#part of me wishes I had tried to do it sooner

[xkaidaxxxx]

Fortunate Ones

BAKUGOU X READER

Mentions: Corrupt Government, Quirkless, Injections, Pregnancy, Dad Bakugou, Fluff!

reblogs are appreciated! <3

There was a point in time where life was happy for everyone. Then one day things changed.

Those with Quirks lived a better life. Good homes, good environment, upperhand on job opportunities. Quirkless born have it rough. A child should have their quirk by the age of 5 and if not the government will give the child another year just in case they’re late bloomers. If no quirk is developed by the age of 6 they’re separated from their parents and put into the quirkless side of town, Although they are allowed to travel anywhere.They get paired with a good family. They’re not allowed to have any contact with their old family.

You grew up with Bakugou and Izuku. Yeah Bakugou was an asshole but you still followed behind him just as everyone else did. You and Deku had each other. Yes you were parted from your birth parents but the ones you were given too were great. They love you like their own. Deku went through the same thing which is why you guys are understanding each other. You thought you’d be with Izuku forever as besties and have a possibility to end up with Bakugou.

Izuku never told either of you about training with All Might. He couldn’t. He didn’t even tell you about getting into U.A. You thought you'd be going to school. You knew Bakugou got in and it hurt you like hell. Parting ways with someone you fell in love with. “ Since when do you have a quirk!?” You yelled at Izuku. “You’re a piece of shit for not telling her sooner.” Bakugou said. “ It’s not what you think,”Izuku said. He wanted to stay with his best friend. He wished the three of you could attend the best hero school there is. He cared more about being a hero. “ I can’t believe it. How..just have fun with your quirk Izuku. Bakugou have fun as well. I guess this is it…” you say tears running down your face. “Who knows…maybe we can meet up one day or whatever.” He said handing you a piece of paper with his number on it. You smiled. “Y-Yeah..thanks. I’ll miss you guys more than anything.” you said. Bakugou hated it when he was forced into a group hug. He hates physical contact but tolerated it for you. He’s always had a soft side, though he's a total asshole. 

Everyone went their separate ways. You didn’t stay in contact with Izuku. He’s “too busy.” when in reality he didn't make time. He cared more about being a hero. Bakugou is very serious about it too but he tried and did make time even if it was talking on the phone or meeting up in the city going to places where Quirkless people were allowed in. Sometimes he’d even facetime with you at night even after a long and tiring day. Yes he’d knock out mid way with you but he made the time and it made you happy. 

As time went on Bakugou developed feelings towards you and finally confessed after becoming a hero and you two Immediately started dating. During the ending of highschool there was a bill being set. Quirkless people were not allowed to house with a quirk user unless married. Then 2 years later the bill passed. 

“We could always lie. We don’t have to worry about it. Let me handle it.” Bakugou said, holding you close. You were both 20 and ready to move out. Bakugou was making a great amount of money from being a hero even though he's young. You were in your 3rd year in college studying for business management and English language. You had a small business. It’s going very well. You always have orders coming in. “We can’t lie about it,Kats. If they find out then what?” you asked. “We’ll make it happen eventually.” he replied, pecking your cheek. You nodded slightly. It was your plan with him. Him becoming a hero, you finishing school and starting your small business then soon enough live together. You continued your homework. Thank god you’re the smartest in all your class and gained trust from your teachers. They’d give great recommendations for when you need a job. 

“Hey mom. I brought her to meet you. You’ll love her.” Katsuki said. He brought you into the living room. “Really!? All this time?” Mitsuki said, giving you a big hug. You returned it. She’s known you since a kid; she just never thought you’d end up dating her son. “You should’ve told me since you started dating her. Why did you keep it a secret for so long?” She asked, letting me go. “I told him I wasn’t ready not until I was almost done with university.” You answered. “We were planning to move in together but…the new bill was placed..” he said gripping your hand lightly. Mitsuki knows how much he loves you because when you and Bakugou started she noticed how much he started changing and in a great way. “You two are young. Still in the beginning of the new chapter. Us parents will be here to support you both.” Mitsuki said. 

When you and Katsuki turned 21 he proposed to you. While you were at work he decorated the dining room with candles and roses.(he lived on his own.) He made your favorite meal. The lights were dimmed. “Hey Kats. I'm here. What did you need help with?” you asked as you took off your heels. “Yeah I'm in the dining room,” he replied. You went over and blushed as you saw the lovely decorated table. You both enjoyed the food. You talked and laughed. “You’re such a romantic, it's cute. Thank you for this.” You said smiling. “I have one more surprise.” He walked over to you.” he replied and made you stand up. “ Where are you taking me?” you asked. “No No, just stand there okay. Close your eyes, loser.” he replied. You obeyed him. Bakugou took out the ring and got down on one knee. “Open.” he ordered. When you saw him your heart was racing. “Y/n I'm in love with you and you know that. You give me everything you have to offer. You always express your love to me. Make me the happiest man in the world and marry me.” He asked. You nodded as you started crying with him. He slipped the ring on your finger. When the wedding happened a year later you both were so happy, loved and fortunate, very very fortunate. 

You must be wondering why? Well thank god you and Bakugou decided to try for a baby during the honeymoon and it happened. You were blessed twins, baby boys. During the time you were 7 months the government released the news about planning on injecting half of the quirkless females. An injection to stop them from reproducing. You had your babies and after you got approval from the doctor to have another child. You and Bakugou got to work. It was hard to take care of the twins while pregnant but you and Bakugou want a little tribe. 

“ Morning my wonderful boys.” Bakugou said to the twins who were awake and ready for their bottles. He carried both of them and got comfortable on the couch he fed both of them. Struggled but fed them. You were still asleep. He makes sure you get proper rest which is why he took time off work. To help you around the house another set of twins are on the way. You woke up around 9:30 am“Kats?Kousuke?Kensuke?” You called. “In the bathroom babe!” Bakugou said. He was giving the twins their baths. Kensuke was the calm one and Kousuke…sweet lord he’s the wild one. You walked in and saw Bakugou’s shirt all wet. The boys cooed and kicked as Bakugou made silly faces. Kousuke splashed water as Bakugou lifted him to scrub his back. “Let me help kats.” you said with a smile. It took about a good 30 minutes to bath them and have them all set . 

You had a small and cute gender reveal only you,bakugou, his parents, yours and your 2 siblings. It was inside the second nursery. Your sister knows the genders so she planned it. “You guys ready?” Mitsuki recorded. You and Bakugou took a deep breath and then let go as you both opened the closet. Half of it was filled with boy clothes and the other with girl clothes. You shared a kiss with Bakugou. Everyone clapped. “ I love you and our babies.” Bakugou said as he rubbed your bump. “ We love you too, loser.” you replied. Months later you pushed your beautiful babies out. 

You guys want a K family and you also wanted to have one more pregnancy. Hopefully you’re not one of the chosen quirkless females for the injection and lucky for guys you werent. By the time you and Bakugou were 26 you had 6 kids. 

Kids' names. K family. Eldest to youngest.

Kousuke Bakugou(m)

Kensuke Bakugou (m) 

Kyousuke Bakugou (m)

Kimiko Bakugou (f)

Kaoru Bakugou (f) 

Kaisei Bakugou (m)

You changed the kids out of their pjs and into cute clothes. Your mother made a family gathering. Bakugou hugged you from behind then nibbled on your ear whispering, “We should have one more, don't you think my sexy girl.” Your eyes widened when you felt his bulge. “ Go fix your problem in our room.” you said. “ Come on one more?” he begged, leaving a hickey on your neck. You saw the kids fall asleep as you packed up their diaper bags. “ Katsuki Bakugou no.” you replied. His hands roamed your body. When he got to your breasts you moaned as he pinched your nipples,you felt your milk leak a bit. “ one more.” he whispered in your ear and then licked your neck. “Fuck it.” you gave in. He was about to carry you away until baby Kaisei started crying. Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Mommys boy for sure,” he said. You smacked him then carried Kaisei, rocking him in your arms. Bakugou looked at him playing with his little hand. Kaisei wrapped his hand around Bakugou’s finger and gripped it. When the kids do that to him he always ends up crying. You never knew why but he always smiles and pecks their hands in the process. 

The best part of it all is that your children grew up with quirks. When they got their quirks you and Bakugou were blessed. Blessed to be able to stay with your family. 

You both were blessed by God to keep your loving family.

#fanfiction #fanfic #bakugo katuski #bnha bakugou #bnha katsuki #katsuki bakugou #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #mha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugo x reader #mha bakugō #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo mha #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki #bakugo #bnha kacchan #bnha #bnha x fem!reader #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bakugou x y/n #bnha bakugo x reader #katsuki x you #anime #katsuki x y/n #my hero x reader

[sassysnowperson]

I don't think I told y'all, I'm a therapist now. Been a couple months since I changed jobs, I'm working towards my licence.

Frankly, it's wild, I can't believe nobody's figured out I'm fifteen ferrets in a trench coat and they are letting me tippity type up notes for insurance.

But also, when the imposter syndrome quiets down, I realize I've got more job satisfaction and feelings of competence right now than I think I've had at any other point in my professional career. So, yeah, gonna call that a win overall

#part of me wishes I had tried to do it sooner #much more of me knows that part of the reason it's going well is all the learning I did from my life so far #i think it'll probably come up in future life chats so...hey! #now y'all know #i promise not to therapize at you #i might therapize the blorbos #but that's just because Life Comes Out in creation

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

Me, when Sebastian joins my party for the first time: Okay, this time I'm not going to forget about you, Sebastian. I'm going to make an effort to use you a lot this playthrough so I can better understand you.

Also me, immediately forgetting about Sebastian while finishing Act 2 and making it halfway through Act 3 before I finally notice his Faith quest: ......................Oh. Right. My bad.

#da2 #dragon age 2 #sebastian vael #listen in my defense..........i don't like bringing sebastian anywhere sksksks #okay look i seriously tried but every time i bring him somewhere i always think man i wish i had brought someone else #and also i do just forget about him! i finally added him to my party at one point and he had 24 points to spend... #that's how long i neglected him after i promised myself i was gonna use him more and then i didn't #it's not that i don't like sebastian as a character though i do tend to side eye him A LOT... it's just that i like everyone else more #even aveline like i'd take aveline over sebastian any day and that's saying something... or is it? i have a lot of feelings about aveline #whereas my feelings about sebastian could maybe fill a thimble...it doesn't help that in my canon run as a mage hawke #i romance anders and well... sebastian wants me to kill anders and my hawke is like 'do i approve of blowing up the chantry? complicated.' #'am i breaking up with anders for this? absolutely. do i still love him? mmhmmm. am i going to kill him sebby? i'd sooner set varric aflame #then sebastian threatens to bring an army to kirkwall and leaves so i can't say i have the greatest opinion on him #even the time where i did kill anders and he stayed in my party he was just... there #and then he glitched out and started t posing while asking if ed ever found out what anders wanted to do in the chantry so..... yeah #but even this playthrough where i'm playing as a lady warrior with a different personality and everything... i'd just rather use anyone els #also keep him away from bethany i do not approve sksksks she's too good for him #i want to understand and see the different angles of him like with the other companions but i've yet to convince myself to do it #also sebastian romancers out there can you like... explain? genuinely can you explain the appeal? i'm curious #because of all the love interests in da2 i look at sebastian and you'd think i'd maybe be more interested? but it's like... #i know about the chaste marriage and everything like that's fine i don't need sex to be a thing in the relationship but it feels less like #an asexual romance and more like... y'know... being with a priest and i guess that's just not one of my kinks? sksksks #i guess there's also the prince angle but i romanced alistair in dao and kept him a grey warden i don't really care about royalty power #and i don't have issues with him being a part of the chantry [well i do but yknow what i mean] since i romanced cullen in dai #and his whole deal with the chantry and magic and shit makes his romance interesting to me but sebastian is just.... a bit too much i think #i don't know i'd like to understand because i really don't but i also keep forgetting about him

[suguae]

Haunted

Toji cannot move on, until he realized too late.

Warnings: Angst, slightest fluff (reader and baby 'gumi moment)

You were just a girl, standing in front of a man, asking him to love you.

How hard was that for him? Yes, he wasn’t good with his words but he wasn’t good at anything else either. He was just there.

Maybe because the woman he truly loved—he was still mourning over her. His sad eyes every time he watched an old couple dance together, wishing he had been doing that but with her. The cute babies babble with their mothers as Megumi babbles with his father, how he wished his wife was still here instead of you. He never said it, but that’s what it felt like. 

And perhaps that's what it was. 

Sometimes he curses himself out when he accidentally calls you his wife's name. During intimate times only. You tried—trying to keep the emotions in as if it wasn’t breaking every part of you, was the hardest part. “Look he’s walking...” You smiled at the dark haired baby who was walking towards you. Toji smiled, making sure he’d record every second of it; deep down he wished his wife was the one the baby was walking towards instead of you.

And it was wrong—so wrong. 

“This relationship, I’m with you but Toji—Toji this is the loneliest I’ve ever felt.” You whispered while he ate his leftovers, his brows still furrowed from the argument occurring earlier. Having Toji work from 9–5 wasn’t the best but good thing he had you, helping him out with so much. Picking up groceries, picking up his lovely son—until you mentioned that one of his teachers mistaken you as his biological mother. That right there was enough to make Toji angry for weeks at least.

But not this time.

He stopped chewing on his food after you spoke, waiting for more of an explanation. Which you figured he needed, “I don’t think you’re in love with me–” 

“I like you [name], a lot.” He cleared his throat. He leaned back on his chair as his arms crossed waiting for you to continue the sentence he interrupted. 

Right, he liked you a lot. These three rough years you’ve been dating Toji—that particular l word was never uttered once, not even if he was drunk, or having a special moment with you. You huffed trying to find the right words for Toji to understand. That was until little Megumi started crying from his room. “I’ll try to put him back to sleep, finish eating.” He watched as your fragile little body sulked its way to Megumi’s room.

He knew this was gonna happen, he knew you were bound to leave him sooner or later. 

You smiled as you opened the door to see the little Megumi standing on top of his little bed. His hands wiping his tears as he ran towards you, his arms now wrapping around your legs. “Sleep with mama and papa.” He cried out as you leaned down to pick up the little boy. “[name] and papa, not mama okay?” You corrected him, if Toji were to find out that he had been calling you that, then that argument would’ve climaxed.

The little boy nodded, his tears now gone as you swayed him around. “Sleep with you.” He mumbled, leaning his head on your shoulder as he played with a strand of your hair. “Just for tonight.” You whispered, watching Megumi pick up his head and smile. Content with your answer. 

Toji’s heart could just swell at the sight. You treated his son as if he was your own and nothing looked so much better right now, except for the fact that he wished it was his wife.

Megumi was now soundly sleeping between you and Toji, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” His eyes shut tightly hearing those piercing words leave your mouth. It hurt when his wife left him, but this hurt was different—different because he knew it was coming yet he didn’t want to do anything about it. 

“I’m sorry—”

“You don’t need to be the one apologizing.” He watched your soft gaze stare at completely nothing. He was confused, this was his fault. He never treated you how you needed deserved to be treated. “It was my fault for throwing myself at a man who simply was not ready.”

The next morning was silent—baby ‘gumi was confused at the saddened look on your face. Constantly walking up to you asking if you were okay. He was still just a baby, yet he read the room so well. “I’m sure we can work this out—” Toji now sitting next to you on the couch, some cartoon playing in the back as Megumi’s little head sat on your lap. “You’re not ready, Toji.” You nodded, eyes still glued on the tv as if it was meant for you and not the little Megumi. 

“And how are you so sure—”

“Tell me you love me then.” Your eyes are now fixed on Toji’s. It was hard, he felt as if his mouth had been glued shut. You sigh, bringing your gaze back to the tv, “I love you—but it’s hard when it’s one sided Toji.” 

It hurt much more, seeing you drive away as the clueless Megumi waved you out. Poor thing thinks you’re simply going to the store. The house that once felt like home was so dull now. Toji sat little ‘gumi down on the couch. 

His constant, “mama?” or “[name]?” while he kept his gaze on the door every so often. Nothing prepared Toji for this. Megumi cried that he wanted to sleep with his mama and papa, his heart swelled knowing that he had been talking about you.

You were gone, just like his wife. But it hurt—it hurt so much more knowing that you’re alive trying your best to…move on. He stayed up late that same night, stumbling upon a video from two years ago. When Megumi first learned how to walk. You and Toji had just started dating but the look of happiness plastered your face as you watched the little baby walking. 

That was one thing Toji never forgot about, how much you loved kids. Telling him how once you had kids of your own you would finally be able to live in peace. How he heard of it less and less as the years went on, he wonders if you still think that.

next part ->

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x y/n #angst #jjk angst #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x you #toji zenin #jujutsu toji #toji fushiguro angst #toji fushigro x reader #jjk x you #jjk drabbles #rosipuree

[cupid-styles]

daisy 2 (english profrry x quiet TA!yn)

she's alive and I hope you like it 🩷 I think there will be a short epilogue wrapping everything up after this :)

part one

word count: 7.9k

content warnings: a bit of angst (nothing too crazy), smut (f receiving oral, penetration, size kink/belly bulge, dirty talk, a tiny bit of cum play), and — as stated in the first part — massive, big fat warning for an inappropriate power imbalance.

main masterlist | talk to me

. . .

Y/N had tried to talk herself out of it. Several times, actually. For hours. 

But at a certain point, she realized all she was doing was driving herself insane with a nonstop, hamster wheel of thinking. She couldn’t stop replaying the conversation with Professor Styles — or Harry, rather, as he’d said earlier — over and over, nitpicking at every tiny detail. She wished she had someone to go to — an unbiased, neutral third party who wouldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear, but she doubted that even if she did have that, they’d think her analysis of their discussion would be appropriate.

Because she had a huge, obvious, stupid crush on her professor. 

Well, he wasn’t technically her professor. She was just the professor she was… assisting, and that technicality is the only thing that gave her enough courage to bundle up beneath layers of thermal wear and her forest green puffer jacket, hiking through the chilly winter evening to see if, by some miracle, Harry was still in his office. 

On the way there, she spoke to herself sternly. She needed to have a goal in mind — an intention, really, of what exactly she was going there for. It wasn’t a normal thing to go see a professor in his office on a Monday at 6:40 pm.

It wasn’t normal to think about his grumpy face and even crankier demeanor; the way his lips pursed thoughtfully around wordy responses about a student’s answer to an essay question, or his long, calloused fingers that wrapped around the same gel ink pens he always used for grading.

It wasn’t normal for her to fall asleep imagining herself pressing her own plush lips to the same ones that nearly begged for an apology just a few hours ago.

And it certainly wasn’t normal for her professor to admit that he’d spent the weekend thinking of her, either.

The English building stays unlocked until around 9 pm on weekdays, just in case professors end up hauling their grading into late nights or students have group projects. She hurries through the wooden doors as soon as she arrives, hurriedly yanking her mittens off and stuffing them in her coat pockets as she walks the familiar journey down to Harry’s office. She’s unsurprised that most of the offices and classrooms have already gone dim, but the closer she gets to Harry’s, the sooner she realizes that his is the exception. With the bleak, yellowed light from the lamp she’d picked out a few weeks back, she sees a faint luminance from his office’s frosted window. Swallowing, she decides against her better judgment before waltzing in like she owns the place, and instead opts for a hesitant knock, punctuating it with a call of his name. 

“Profess— Harry? Are you in there?” she nibbles on her lip before tacking on a, "It's Y/N."

She hopes he recognizes her voice as she wrings her fingers together in front of her. She thinks she hears muffled movement on the other side of the door, but she’s not entirely sure. It never occurred to her that perhaps he wouldn’t want to see her — maybe he’d peek through the crack of the door, see her face, and widen his own eyes in shock and embarrassment, maintaining silence until she eventually gave up and walked away. Her throat bobs nervously at the imagery. 

She’s ready to give up when the door swings open, revealing a rather flushed looking version of the typically neat, well-kept professor she’s used to seeing. His cheeks don a splotchy pink hue that speckles down to his neck, where his usual button down is currently undone. Underneath, he wears a plain white tee-shirt. She blinks at the small display of intimacy before snapping her eyes back up to his face. He’s running his finger through his messy curls, tugging lightly at the base of the locks.

“Is everything alright?” he asks through a slightly nervous voice. With furrowed eyebrows, she nods her head slowly.

“Yes— well, no, I guess. I feel bad about earlier.”

She chokes the words out in hopes that she can keep her humiliation at bay. She’s unsure if her eyes deceive her, but it seems as though his face relaxes some before he quickly nods, stepping aside to let her in. 

“Um, you have nothing to feel bad about,” he says, shutting the door quietly behind her. She shrugs her shoulders as she stands in the middle of his small office, avoiding his gaze. “I was out of line, Y/N.”

“What did you mean by it?” she rushes out, facing him with a leery expression. “That you spent the weekend thinking of me. And feeling awful about how you’ve treated me.”

His mouth opens and closes, and she can’t help the way she glances down at his raspberry-hued lips. She swallows tightly, biting on her own bottom lip.

“This isn’t something we can do,” he mumbles out breathily with a shake of his head. “You know that, right?”

They’re dancing around the obvious. Her stomach lurches at the low, groveled volume of his voice, and her fingers twitch at her sides as she resists the urge to step closer to him. She’s never been forward with a romantic interest before — she’s never had a reason to be, to uphold a certain level of confidence. 

But she can’t help herself. 

“Tell me, then. Tell me what you thought of this weekend.”

Harry’s nostrils flare. 

“If it’s not something we can do,” Y/N says softly, licking over her lips, “Then whatever you thought about should be nothing, right?”

He’s torn. He’s so utterly torn that it feels like his brain is being split in half. He knows what he should do — he should tell her she’s wrong and that she should leave. He should leave this entire situation behind him, chalk it up to him being a touch-deprived idiot, and move on with his life. Join a few dating apps and find someone decent to settle down with. 

But why would he do what he’s supposed to do?

“I thought about how fucking shitty I felt for ignoring you for weeks after you told me you just wanted my praise,” Harry blurts, heart hammering in his chest as he slowly starts to close the gap between their bodies. “I thought about how much I like having you around — how smart and talented you are, how beautiful and creative your brain is.”

“I’m not—”

“I’m not finished,” he replies curtly, making Y/N’s eyebrows shoot up to her forehead. “I thought about how pretty you are. I thought about how I’m thankful to have you as my assistant, because no one has ever been able to meet me on the same level. I thought about… how I’d be taking advantage of you if I told you any of those things, so I promised that I’d keep them to myself.”

He’s standing directly before her now. He’s so close that she can smell the warm musk of his cologne and see the freckles dotted over his nose. It makes her stomach churn in the best way. 

“Why didn’t you?” she finally breathes out. 

A smirk forms at the edges of his lips. He looks down at her as if he wants to swallow her whole, and she’s not sure that she doesn’t want him to. 

“You asked me to tell you, sweetheart,” he murmurs. He reaches out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and her skin zips with electricity. “‘S not much of my fault now, is it?”

Quickly, she shakes her head. She swallows nervously and hopes he doesn’t notice her picking at her nails as she waits for him to surge forward and press a messy kiss to her lips. 

But instead, he stops. 

A look of clarity ghosts over his face and his throat bobs. It doesn’t stop him from thumbing over her chin with sorrowed eyes. 

“We’ll wait until the end of the semester,” he murmurs out. The look of disappointment on Y/N’s face must be obvious because his eyebrows furrow in dejection. “It’s the safest way, okay? After that… after that, I’m yours.”

I’m yours. It echoes through her brain, making her heart thump rapidly in her chest. She feels it everywhere, but the hesitancy remains. 

“Promise me,” she whispers, pressing a wary hand to the expanse of his chest. “Promise me I’m not wasting my time. Promise me that you mean this.”

He can’t help it — before he can even contemplate the consequences, he ducks down to connect their lips. It takes her by surprise but she immediately kisses him back, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck to pull him closer.

Despite the reluctant context, the physical bond is anything but. Harry kisses her unhurriedly, like he has years to worship every bit of her lips. He dips his tongue into her mouth the second she grants him the opportunity, and her chest feels like it’s ready to explode when he squeezes her hip. His large palm easily finds its way to her ass and she whimpers breathily into the seal of his mouth. It’s the only thing that brings him back down to earth — a reminder that he’s no longer daydreaming but experiencing the real thing. He forces himself to break the kiss but leans his forehead against hers, keeping his eyes shuttered closed.

“I promise you,” he exhales, and he feels her nod. “I’m yours.”

. . .

Attempting to act normal around Harry is harder than Y/N had anticipated. 

In hindsight, the evening consisted of a half-assed confession and a rather… intimate kiss that nearly knocked her off her feet. If it had been with anyone else — someone her age, a fellow student or peer, maybe — she, of course, would be anxious over it. But the fact that she had to see him a day later in class was… well, somehow embarrassing. 

She contemplates her outfit for hours, wanting to seem cute and put-together without overly desperate. She was scared it would be written all over her face the second she walked in and sat at her seat beside his podium — "I made out with Professor Styles in his office a day and a half ago and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it for more than two seconds since it happened" may as well have been written across her forehead. 

When she finally does show up to class, Harry looks… well, he looks like his usual self. He’s wearing those wide-legged trousers that she thinks he must have in at least a dozen colors, matched with a button down and a sweater vest overtop. He’s standing at the podium with his back to the entrance as he waits for students to filter in, squeezing his bottom lip between his fingers. He’s reading something, Y/N’s unsure what it is, but when he hears the less than graceful clatter of her setting her things down at the table, he glances over to her and flashes her a smile. 

A smile.

“Hey,” he greets. His voice is low and gruff and if she hadn’t been looking for it, she surely would’ve missed it. But she doesn’t, and it instead sends a zap of lovesick energy thrumming through her body. 

“Hi.” she mumbles back, waving as she leans over to pull her laptop from her bag. 

That’s the extent of the interaction, but it’s far more than she’s ever received from him. Normally, when she arrives at class, he fully ignores her. She only began to take issue with it when she figured out she was growing feelings for him, but somehow the quiet utterance of hey feels like a public acknowledgement of what occurred just a day prior. In some crazy way, it seems like it’s just as open as grabbing her and smacking a hard kiss to her lips. She finds herself wishing he would as he begins today’s lecture on male writers in feminist discourse.

As written on the schedule, Harry’s taking the time to discuss authors like George Herbert, John Berryman, and Leo Tolstoy. Y/N doesn’t feel particularly drawn to any of those figures, though a few weeks back when she and Harry were discussing this unit, they did find a mutual appreciation for Jacques Lacan. He wasn’t originally in the lesson plan — Y/N remembers it vividly, because she can recall saying that he would be a great fit. Her heart had expanded in her chest with praise when Harry agreed. 

And yet… Harry’s standing up there in front of the lecture hall, waxing poetic in the dreamiest way possible, about Jacques Lacan.

“Lacan was incredibly controversial, so I don’t expect all of us to feel comfortable with translating his viewpoints to modern day psychology,” Harry explains as he hovers over the old, wooden podium, “But what I do want to dig into is his basic idea of the symbolic register. Does anyone know what that is?”

Yes, Y/N wants to say. It’s the concept that our existence as humans includes language, culture, and rituals. 

“Lacan came up with this idea that he thought was waiting for us the second we were born. He felt that the symbolic register encompassed maybe more artsy, culture-based facets, and that was one of the most important parts of the human existence. We won’t get too far into it because this isn’t a psychology course, and frankly, I could give a shit if you truly understand this or not.” The class, including Y/N, laughs quietly. Harry rolls his lips into a thin line to avoid a smirk from appearing.

When the huffed merriment tapers off, he continues. “What I want you to take away as writers is this: Lacan’s symbolic register essentially implies that our lives, from the very start, are swamped with uncertainty. There’s no path for us. As you write your characters, consider that. Lacan thought that life experiences, specifically lack and desire, were what impacted the course we go on.”

As expected, the class is silent. Y/N’s found that students are typically too nervous or intimidated to contribute to conversations during Harry’s lectures, and she’s been on the receiving end of many, many emails asking things that could have been resolved in class.

“Think about what your characters lack. What are they missing? What are they unable to receive access to? Is it a resistance to pleasure, to giving in?”

Y/N swallows harshly at that. She pretends like she doesn’t hear it, instead focusing in on typing a response to an email in her inbox. 

“And then, consider their desires. Their deepest, darkest wants. No one has to know them — in real life, no one truly knows our truest desires, anyway,” she swears her eyes squeeze closed at that, but she quickly snaps them open, “But use it as an exercise for this weekend. Don’t forget, second drafts are due on Monday. Class is dismissed.”

Y/N swear she feels a second heartbeat in her core as the lecture hall begins to trickle out with students.

. . . 

“I thought we were waiting until the semester is over.” Y/N blurts it out when she can’t focus on grading Ren Wei's draft. 

Slowly, Harry glances up from the stack of papers he’s currently grading. With confused eyebrows, he sets his pen down. 

“We are,” he says softly. 

“Then what were you talking about in class today?” She hisses lowly. She keeps her voice quiet even though the door to Harry’s office is shut closed. 

“What do you mean?”

Y/N sighs frustratedly and sits back in her seat. She avoids Harry’s confused gaze as she crosses her arms over her chest. He ignores the way it pushes her breasts up through the soft fabric of her sweater. 

“The whole lack and desire thing. You know you weren’t planning on talking about Lacan until I brought him up a few weeks ago.”

Harry’s throat bobs and she licks over her lips, quickly glancing back up to his face. She’s right — they both know she’s right, but Harry’s reluctant to admit it. He’s stubborn — he’s always been this way in relationships, and it tends to be one of his greater downfalls as a partner. Deep in the pit of his heart, he knows Y/N deserves better. She wouldn’t be worth putting his job or her status as a student in danger if she wasn’t.

“You’re right,” he finally admits as he nibbles on his bottom lip. “I’m sorry. It was out of line and I won’t do that anymore.”

She pauses for a beat. And then, “I thought maybe you changed your mind.”

His shoulders deflate and she suddenly feels embarrassed. It was a stupid thing to reveal, she decides, and she picks at the skin surrounding her fingernails as she mentally beats herself up for it. 

And for a moment, Harry contemplates it. He knows it hasn’t been that long since he told her they have to wait, but he’d be a ridiculous liar if he didn’t admit that she’s all he’s been thinking about ever since they kissed in his office. Nervously, he reaches across the length of his wooden desk and takes her hand into his. He intertwines their fingers together and gives her hand a small, reassuring squeeze, and she looks up at him through her eyelashes. It makes his heart warm.

“You know this is incredibly difficult for me, right?” he asks. Y/N shakes her head and he scoffs in response. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N.”

She blushes. “I can’t stop thinking about you either.”

“Yeah?” he chuckles, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. She nods. “When we kissed, it… it was so good, y’know? It just… it felt good.”

“I know,” she breathes. She squeezes his fingers lightly before retracting her own hand and placing it in her lap. She may look naive, but she's already decided that she won't let him have the upper hand – not when it comes to something she can actually have control over, like teasing.

The movement surprises him but he chooses not to acknowledge it. “But this is what we decided on, right? It’s better this way. It’s kind of like edging, hm?” 

His eyes nearly bulge out of his skull as she glances down at her phone to look at the time. 

“Anyway, I have to head out to class. Text me if you need anything, Professor Styles.”

She waltzes out of his office with a snarky, knowing grin on her lips, and Harry has to do a series of deep breathing to stop his cock from exploding in his trousers. 

. . .

Y/N Y/L/N is a complete and utter minx. 

Harry has no choice but to come to this conclusion because in the weeks that follow their agreement, he swears she does everything she can to try and make him break. The worst part is, he doesn’t even know if she’s doing it intentionally. But every time they’re in the same room, all he can think about is hauling her over his shoulder, locking her in his office, and stretching her body over the length of his desk so he can fuck her until she can’t even think straight.

And there’s still three months left of the semester.

Admittedly, nothing ever really happens between them. Despite the apparent and blatant flirting that occurs on both sides, they keep things surprisingly professional, even behind closed doors. For the first time in his teaching career, Harry is actually ahead of grading. For some reason, he feels as though it’s a testament to how well he and Y/N actually work together.

But then there’s the matter of her teasing, which drives him up a fucking wall — the cute little mini skirts she almost always wears, the batting of her eyelashes at students in his class, followed by the wide-eyed smile she flashes Harry as soon as she knows he’s seen it. She even out-smarted him on Ursula LeGuin the other day and, as dorky as it seems, Harry doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on in his life.

It’s a series of back-and-forth. When Y/N has to leave his office for class, he’ll thumb at her chin or her cheeks so she gets all flustered before she heads out. Later that night, she’ll text him an innocent question with some sort of “typo”:

can’t stop thinking about your lips

oops! list* not lips! your list of grades — it’s due next friday, right??

It’s a stupid, risky game that neither of them can stop playing.

Even when they’re sitting in Harry’s office that Wednesday afternoon, buried beneath piles of final drafts for the midterm paper, he can’t help but gnaw on his bottom lip as she sits across from him. She’s focused — the cute furrow between her brows is the primary tell — but every now and then she’ll bring her pen up to her mouth to bite on it or poke her tongue out to lick over her lips.

Despite the chill of the day, she’s wearing a wool mini skirt atop sheer black tights, and he hasn’t been able to stop glancing down at the soft skin of her thighs since she showed up to campus hours ago. He wants nothing more than to rip a hole in the fabric, pull her into his lap, and kiss her until she’s a whimpering, breathless mess. 

He’s so distracted that he doesn’t even notice the clock is steadily ticking towards 5 pm and, technically, Y/N should’ve left an hour ago. With wide eyes, he drops his pen on the pile of papers in front of him. 

“Shit,” he curses, “You should go. Your hours ended at 4.”

She taps her phone screen beside her, “Oh. I didn’t realize it was so late. I guess I got in the groove with grading.” 

“It happens.” He says understandingly as he leans back against his chair, stretching his achy back out some. “I’ll see you on Monday, then?”

She peers up at him through her lashes. “It’s 5 pm on a Friday, Harry. You should leave, too.”

He runs his tongue over his teeth. She’s right, especially since he’s been attempting to distract himself from his crush on Y/N by doing late grading sessions in his office. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he mumbles as he grabs his large tote bag. “I’ll walk you out, if that’s okay.”

They both know that it’s perhaps a cross of the boundary they’ve been trying to firmly maintain, but how harmful could a walk be? 

Y/N flashes him a small smile. Silently, they each pack their things up, and she follows him out of this office as he locks his door. They walk side-by-side, Y/N nibbling on her bottom lip as Harry tries to resist the urge to grab the hand that he keeps accidentally brushing with his own knuckles. 

“Do you have any weekend plans?” She suddenly asks softly, glancing up at the taller male. 

He hums, “Nothing too exciting. Probably just gonna catch up on TV and reading. You?”

“The secret life of an English professor, hm?” Y/N teases and he chuckles. “I have to start prepping for midterms. Laundry, too. I guess nothing more fun than your plans.” 

He laughs and her stomach erupts into flutters as he holds the front door for her. She smiles in gratitude, but her steps come to a stop when she witnesses the state of the weather. 

It’s nearly a white out. A snowstorm must have barreled through while they were busy grading, because now it’s dark, flurries of snow instantly landing on Y/N’s eyelashes and jacket. 

“Y/N,” Harry appears at her side, “You’re not planning on walking through this, are you?”

“I-I don’t have a car.” She mumbles, stuffing her already freezing cold hands into her pockets. “I’ll be fine, it’s not far.”

“No, but I wouldn’t feel okay with sending you home in this,” he replies. She blinks when she feels his hand reach out to her shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. “Would you let me drive you home, please? Just so I know you get home safely.”

Her stomach turns. This would officially cross the student/teacher boundary, but he’s right — it’s frigid out, and she always hates walking home in the dark anyway. Swallowing tightly, she nods. 

“Yeah, please. I’ll take a ride.”

“Good,” he exhales with a nod, “My car’s just over in the faculty lot.” 

With the both of them slowly shuffling through the snowy ground, they eventually make it to Harry’s car. As expected, it’s covered in snow, but he turns it on and blasts the heat so she can sit inside while he uses a brush to clear it off. She picks at her fingernails as she watches him through the foggy front window, her chest continuing to grow with nerves. She knows that this is all she’s wanted for weeks — to be alone with Harry, outside of the confines of his office — so why is she so scared? 

Luckily, he gets in the car before she has more time to contemplate it. Blowing warm air into his cupped hands, he shivers dramatically. 

“Fuck, it’s cold,” he whines, making her giggle. “Something funny about that, passenger princess?” 

“No!” She exclaims with a laugh, “I’m sorry I didn’t help clear your car off. I’m sure that was awful.”

His eyes crinkle teasingly as he chuckles along with her. As he backs up out of the parking spot with ease, he presses the palm of his hand to the back of Y/N’s headrest, checking to make sure he’s clear. She wonders if he’s used to driving in the snow, but lets the question die in her throat instead of pushing the conversation. 

“Sorry, I didn’t ask where you live,” he says when he turns onto the main road. “I think you mentioned once that you’re not too far from campus?”

She nods. “Yeah, I’m on Maple. It’s a single-person house, I’ll tell you where to turn.”

“You live alone?”

She doesn’t think the question is meant to be inherently suggestive, but there’s something about his immediate response that has her teetering on feeling that way. Swallowing, she nods again.

“Mhm. Most of my friends graduated or moved away when we finished undergrad, so it’s just me.”

“No pets or anything? You seem like the type to own one of those bald cats.”

Y/N balks at his reply, a peel of laughter bubbling from her chest. “What?”

Harry’s cheeks warm as he slowly drives down the snow-covered street. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he thinks about what kind of person she is when she’s not around — he knows it probably sounds creepy, but it’s how he’s been entertaining himself in the meantime. 

“I just… feel like you’d like those things,” he treads lightly, shrugging his shoulders, “Is my assumption wrong?”

“Very much so. I’ve only had dogs,” she giggles, “Are there any other assumptions I should know about?”

His throat bobs. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” she quirks a brow. “Turn at the light.”

He flicks his right signal on, “I may have tried to figure you out a bit in my… spare time.”

He cringes, but the sound of her laughter quickly pulls him from his embarrassment. 

“Well now I have to know.”

“Fine,” he decides, finding himself drawn to her little game, “I think you prefer matcha or hot chocolate over coffee.”

“True, but that’s only because you watch me cringe every time you drink your stupid black coffee.”

Harry snorts, “Okay, fair. I think you’re a homebody.”

“Mhmm,” Y/N nods. “True. Go on.”

“You prefer chocolate to vanilla.”

“Strawberry, actually.”

He hums. “You read period piece smut for fun.”

Y/N lets out a loud cackle. “What about my personality makes you think that?”

“You just seem like the type to go to the romance section at the bookstore, but only buy dirty books that are set in the 1800s,” he replies easily, a smirk edging at his lips, “Am I wrong?”

She ignores the way her cheeks flair with warmth. “I’m not opposed to it, but it’s not the only thing I read.”

“Sure,” he laughs. She rolls her eyes before pointing to a house down at the end of the road. 

“I’m right over there.” 

Harry nods and pulls up in front of it. The snow is only worse on the residential streets, likely because there haven’t been many cars going through to clear the roads. She nibbles on her lip as she unbuckles her seatbelt and turns to look at him. 

“Thank you for the ride.” she says softly. 

“Of course.”

They stare at each other for a beat before Y/N tears her gaze away from him. She glances out through the front window, watching momentarily as snowflakes continue to beat down on the exterior of his car. 

“It’s not safe,” she mumbles breathily, facing him again. “You shouldn’t drive in this.”

He swallows. He knows what he should say: No, it’s okay. I should go home. We said we’d wait, remember?

But he doesn’t want to. Not when she’s dangling alone time, off campus, right in front of his face. He can’t resist her — he doesn’t want to resist her.

“Can I come inside, then?”

. . .

Y/N’s house is everything Harry would have expected it to be. 

She has two huge bookshelves that are overflowing with worn novels, Post-It’s and folded-down pages sticking out of nearly every page. She has plants and candles, cuddly blankets thrown askew over her couch, and a sink filled with half-consumed cups of tea. There are framed pictures and Polaroids tacked up on her fridge of people Harry assumes are her friends and family. He smiles gently as he passes by an image of her wedged between two older people who have some of her same features. It’s all very her, which means it’s all entirely too comforting.

“Do you want something to drink?” Y/N asks, nibbling on her bottom lip as she glances up at the man before her. It’s an unusual sight; one that makes her feel like she has to blink a few times to ensure she isn’t dreaming. 

“Not unless you’re willing me to make my ‘stupid black coffee’, as you affectionately referred to it in the car.”

Y/N blushes, “I don’t have any coffee here, but I can make you tea. Or hot chocolate.”

“Tea is good, sweetheart.”

The flush only deepens at the pet name. He’s not sure where it comes from — maybe easing into a relationship-type dynamic is easier than he thought, especially considering he’s been pushing it down since their kiss. He watches as she turns to face the kitchen counter, occupying herself with turning the kettle on and retrieving two tea bags and mugs. He wants nothing more than to hug her from behind, pressing his fingertips into her hips to squeeze them teasingly. To dip his head to the crook of her neck and press kisses along her delicate skin. He swallows and adjusts his trousers, willing the thickening erection tucked underneath to go away.

“How do you want it?” she asks, glancing behind her to look at him.

He coughs. “Sorry? How do I want what?”

“Your tea,” Y/N replies slowly, a small smile on her lips, “How do you want your tea, Harry?”

“Oh— um, however you take it is fine.”

She nods and busies herself with filling the mugs up with the boiling water. Once she’s finished, she slowly hands him the steaming cup. He smiles in gratitude, allowing their fingers to brush against one another in the pass-off.

“By the way,” she says lowly, blinking at him, “You’re doing a shit job of hiding your boner.” 

Her eyes crinkle in a smirk as she lifts the mug to take a sip of the warm liquid. Harry’s cheeks instantly warm and he stutters over his words, attempting to force out an apology. She lets him scramble for a moment before reaching out to curl her fingers over his wrist with a smile. 

“I’m just teasing you. I hope you know I don’t care.”

He huffs, setting his cup down on the dining room table, “Yeah, but I’m the one who told you we have to wait. And now I’m standing in your kitchen, getting hard over you making me tea.”

She giggles. “I consider that a compliment, to be honest.”

“I’m sure you do,” he grumbles, “You make me feel like a doped up, lovesick teenager.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” he scoffs, “Everything you do does something to me. Even if you don’t mean it. It’s ridiculous.”

“What do you mean?”

He sends her a knowing look and she grins. 

“You know what I mean, Y/N.”

“You know I’m not good at reading between the lines, Harry.”

He sighs. “You turn me on. Even by doing the stupidest shit— knowing more about me in certain subjects, wearing those cute little skirts… it all drives me insane. I’ve been trying to keep it together, but I can’t.”

“Then don’t,” she replies almost instantly, placing her mug on the table next to his, “I don’t want to wait, Harry. I feel… I feel so stupidly desperate for you. And I want this— I want you.”

“I know, but—”

“But in any other context, if we didn’t meet this way, there wouldn’t be an issue,” she points out stubbornly, “If we had come back to mine after a date, we’d already be upstairs with our clothes off.”

He can’t help the way his cock jumps at her words and he mentally groans. He wants to yell into one of those cute throw pillows on her couch, or maybe lay face down on the fluffy carpet in her hallway. 

“Listen, I’m sorry if I’m crossing boundaries, we can just watch TV or something—”

“Stop,” he cuts her off with a shake of his head. “Can we just… Can I just kiss you again? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

Y/N blinks owlishly. Surprise is clear on her face, but it doesn’t stop her from nodding her head. As corny as it sounds — and Y/N knows it’s corny — it feels like magnets being pulled together. It’s not a moment longer before Harry’s palm is pressed gently against her cheek, his lips brushing up against hers. She’s nearly salivating at the thought of closing the gap between them and yet, at the same time, her brain is melting with lust. 

This kiss, unlike their first, is riddled with want. It’s hurried and sloppy, teeth clashing and tongues dipping into each other’s mouth. Harry’s hand slips from her cheek and down to the back of her neck, giving it a small, testing squeeze. She presses her chest impossibly closer to his, eyelashes flittering at the warmth radiating from the button-down he wears. She’s desperate to feel him, to eliminate any boundaries or distances between them — for the first time, she’s sick of playing games. 

“Upstairs,” she pants out through swollen lips. He takes her bottom lip between his teeth and pulls playfully, allowing it to snap back in place, “Take me upstairs, please.”

He swallows and her eyes find his Adam’s apple, nervousness settling in her chest. He gives her neck another squeeze. 

“Are you sure?” he breathes. She leans up to wrap her arms around his neck and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“If you’ll have me, I’m yours, Harry.”

“You’ve always been mine,” he mutters with his forehead against hers, “Show me the way, sweetheart.”

She grabs his hand in hers and lightly tugs him out of the kitchen. If she’s being honest, she’s fantasized of this moment for months now. She was never sure of how it would happen (the logistics never mattered in her daydreams), but having him here, standing in her bedroom, feels like some kind of joke her mind conjured up. 

But when he lays her back against the mattress, elbows digging into the soft tufts of her bedding, it feels a little like a hazy fantasy. 

When he parts her thighs and kneels down between them, pressing a smattering of kisses along her neck as his hands push the fabric of her thick sweater up, her labored breathing is the only anchor she has in reality.

And when he finds himself between her thighs, tugging her black tights down to reveal a sodden pair of underwear, a hiss sounding out from her mouth when he bares her center to the cool air of her bedroom, things begin to feel very, very serious.

“Is this okay?” he asks huskily. He’s since moved down to kneeling on the carpet of her room, his large palms parting the insides of her thighs. Every single move he makes drives her insane. 

“Yes,” she breathes, fingers gripping the blanket beneath her. 

He’s less calculated now that he’s received her consent. She instantly mewls the second he puts his mouth over her, licking through the wet fabric of her underwear. Her eyes roll back just from the muffled sensation, especially when he allows a low moan to vibrate from his chest. 

“Need more,” he mutters against the soft skin of his thigh as he pulls the material to the side. He inhales sharply at the sight of how wet she is, his fingertip gently tracing over the tip of her swollen clit. “You were hiding all this from me for months.” 

He states it as if it’s a fact — like she’d been doing it intentionally, when all she’s been doing is dreaming of the day he’d finally be the one to break. Through a shaky swallow, she parts her lips. 

“Didn’t mean it,” she murmurs, sitting up slightly to look down at him. It’s a heavenly vision — the image of the professor she’s been crushing on, on his knees for her in her bedroom. He sends a smirk her way as if he can read her thoughts (and maybe he can, she’s truly not sure anymore), and surges forward to dip his tongue through her folds, licking up the heady arousal dripping from her hole. It makes her gasp and reach down to grab his hair, a tight fistful of locks in her hand.

“Doubt it,” he says into her core. His fingertip continues tracing tight circles into her clit as he begins to flex his tongue inside of her, and Y/N’s back is arching against the expanse of her mattress from the wet, intoxicating sensations of it all. It’s nearly too overwhelming for her, especially given the sensitivity of her clit — but Harry can feel her tensing beneath his grasp, a delicious telltale sign that her peak is quickly rising. 

“Harry— oh my god—”

“I know,” he coos, replacing his tongue with two of his fingers. He presses against her g-spot and she gasps, grinding her hips down against his hands, “There you go, angel girl, cum on my fingers. That’s it, good girl.”

If his hands weren’t currently occupied, one would undoubtedly be wrapped around his length right now, twisting and pumping until he emptied himself to the sight of Y/N’s coming, pulsating pussy. It's better than any daydream he ever could have thought of — her moans are beautiful and whimpery, her body warm and pliant beneath his touch as she comes down. Sensitivity immediately takes over and she gently bats his hands away, panting out loudly from above. 

“Alright?” He asks softly, placing a light kiss to her thigh. He hears her swallow loudly. 

“Jelly,” she mumbles, “Limbs are jelly.”

That makes him chuckle as he sits back up on his knees. He hovers over the length of her body and smiles at her fucked out expression. 

“You’re pretty when you come.” He says before leaning down to peck her lips. 

“Yeah?” She asks teasingly, “Show me what you look like?”

Harry stills but she nips at his bottom lip playfully, “You didn’t cum in your pants just from eating me out, did you?” 

“Got pretty close to it.” He confesses, eyes falling shut as she continues pressing kisses to his jawline and down to his neck. 

She hums at the admittance as her hands rake down his chest, “Do you wanna fuck me?” 

“Whatever you want,” he swallows, the answer sounding far more submissive out loud than he’d intentioned, “Fine with… I’m fine with whatever.” 

“I want you to fuck me.” She says, looking up at him. “Is that okay?”

“That’s perfectly okay.” 

Y/N grins and begins to make quick work of shedding his layers of clothes. His button-down is the first to go, followed by his trousers and belt. Once he’s down to his briefs, she gently hints at wanting to climb on top. He has no reservations with that so he helps her straddle his thighs, watching as her eyes peer down at his covered length. 

“You look big.” She admits. 

He’s not sure if it’s meant to be a compliment or a nervous comment, so he silently issues a small squeeze to her hip. 

“Seriously,” she continues with a frown. “Other girls have taken you no problem?” 

This makes him laugh. “Generally, yeah.” 

“I don’t think it’s gonna fit.” 

Harry smirks. “This isn’t your way of telling me you’re a virgin, right?”

“No!” She exclaims theatrically, and that only amplifies his laughter. “I’m just… I’m nervous! You look really big Harry, seriously.” 

“Take me out then,” he instructs lowly and the tone of his voice zips straight to Y/N’s center, “I promise, you’re freaking yourself out over nothing.” 

She grumbles as he pulls his underwear down his legs. Harry kicks them off his ankles and she sighs as she takes him into her hand. He has to make an effort not to hiss at the feeling of it. 

“Still huge,” she mutters, “My hand barely fits around you, Harry.” 

“You’re making my ego insane, angel.”

She peers up at him, where his arm is tucked behind his head like he’s lounging the day away. She gives the head of his cock a small squeeze. 

“Do you really think it’ll fit?”

“Yes,” he chuckles, “If not, I’ll just go down on you for an hour and by then you’ll be open and wet enough.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles, the thought of him spending an hour of his time between her thighs almost being too much to fathom. “‘M gonna try to put you in.”

“It’ll be fine, sweetheart. Just breathe and take your time. We can do a different position—“

“No,” she quickly shakes her head. “Wanna ride you. This is how I envisioned it.”

Harry’s eyebrow quirks at that but his curiosity is quickly replaced by pleasure when she hovers her hips over his length. The warmth from her previous orgasm is radiating off of her and he breathes out sharply when she pushes the tip in, her fingertips covering the sight. Harry reaches out to move them. “Need to see,” he grunts. 

Her jaw drops open as she slowly lowers onto him. Neither of them speak — it’s all entirely too consuming; her getting filled to the brim and him being surrounded by the tightest heat he’s ever felt. When she finally sinks down to his pelvic bone, her eyelashes flutter. 

“Can you move?” He asks through a slightly clenched jaw, “Or— do you need me to—“ 

“I can do it.” She replies as she steadily attempts to move her hips up. “Oh, that’s a lot.”

“Too much?”

She shakes her head, “It’s good. Is it good?”

“It’s amazing.” He breaths out, gritting his teeth as she moves up and down. 

With his reassurance under her belt, it’s easier for her to find a bit of rhythm, even if she has to place her hands down on his chest for stability. He happily places his own palms on top of them, curling his fingers around her wrists to help her. 

“There you go,” he encourages, leaning his head back against the pillow as he watches her. “You look so beautiful, holy shit.”

She moans when she finally figures out a pace that hits that soft spot inside of her, eyelashes fluttering from the constant pressure. Harry moves his hands down to her hips to assist in the maneuvers, but mainly because he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get sick of seeing his touch on her skin. She swallows harshly when she lifts a hand to coax at her swollen clit, a wet gasp sounding from her lips. Harry’s gaze lifts from where they’re connected to see widened eyes. 

“What’s the matter? Are you okay?” He asks in immediate panic. 

She nods quickly and reaches out to grab his hand and place it over his stomach. 

He thinks he may pass out. 

Beneath the soft, dimpled skin of her stomach, he can feel his length bulging in her tummy. If he looks close enough, he can see the faint outline. It takes everything in him not to snap. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters as she resumes her pace of bouncing on his cock. 

“Told you you were— oh— big,” she says stubbornly, and if he wasn’t so overwhelmed with the current state of her body, he probably would have had a comeback. But right now, all he can focus on is not blowing his load inside her. 

“Need you to come,” he grunts. She nods eagerly like a puppy and he smirks when her fingers return to her clit, rubbing tight circles. “Need you to come so I can paint that pretty pussy, yeah?” 

“Yes,” she mewls desperately. Her movements get jerkier and sloppier, but Harry has no problem meeting her hips. He thrusts up inside of her to hopefully reach the same spot, though his worry is quickly wiped away when he feels her muscles contract, her face twisting beautifully. 

He can barely help her through her orgasm before he’s pushing her into her side. He’s no longer inside and his hand has switched to keeping her thigh up as he pumps himself, groaning at the sticky mess between them. 

“Wanna feel it,” she whimpers almost pathetically, “Please Professor Styles, cum all over my pussy.” 

That’s all he needs before he’s bursting at the seams, ropes of thick, white cum covering her. He’s a groaning mess and he doesn’t even notice that she’s running her hand through his hair, playing with it gently, until he has nothing left to give. With a final whimper, he lays back against her bed, completely spent. 

When they’ve both caught their breath, Harry turns back onto his side to face her. 

“You alright?” he asks softly. He’s nervous to reach out and thumb at her cheek or press a kiss to her hand. For some reason, he feels like the situation is too delicate right now and he’s at risk of fucking it all up.

Y/N hums, “Mhm. Are you?”

“I am.” he answers with a thick swallow. “Is it okay if I hold you?”

“Please.”

His heart jumps and he wraps an arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his chest. He leans down and kisses her hair. 

They sit in the silence for a bit, Y/N finding comfort in Harry’s constant breathing, the sound of his heartbeat. 

And then: “So you envisioned this?”

She bites at the smile on her lips before she bats at his pecs, “Shut up. I know you did too.”

Harry has no problem admitting that she’s right.

#writing #english profrry #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles one direction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x oc #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles au #harry styles fic rec #harry styles rec #one direction

[theorphicangel]

“𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬?” | 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

synopsis: you have a valentine’s date tomorrow and you’re somewhat excited for it. but there’s just one thing you’re unsure about…thankfully your trusted roommate can help. right?

tags: roommate au! (Here we go again), smut, 18+, male masturbation, mutual pining, these mfs are in DENIAL smh, angsty ishhhh

taglist: @ghost-lantern @mreowmoreww @maomaimao @ahano

PART TWO. (click here for part one.)

“I think you’re lying to me.”

Miguel glances up at you from the dining table that he’s sitting at, currently eating a bowl of cereal. You’re standing opposite him, buttering a seemingly burnt piece of toast.

“Hmm?”

“I think you’re lying to me about not having a valentine’s date.”

Miguel’s eyes move back down to stare at his bowl, spoon mindlessly poking at the cereal but he’s not eating. He pauses for a few seconds, thinking over your words.

“What makes you think that?”

“You?” You point at him with your butter knife. “The Miguel O’Hara, the well-known ladies’ man has not one date tonight? Not a single one out of the countless ladies that he’s been with? Suspicious.”

“Looks like it.” he mumbles. You notice that his tone is dry. Refusing to play along with your teasing.

“See, I don’t believe it. Something’s up, you’re acting…weird.”

It’s ironic you say that. You have no right to judge him on his behavior. After all, you did suck him off on the couch last night. This morning, neither of you had made an attempt to discuss what had happened last night. You acted as if nothing had happened between the two of you, as if you had just gone to bed for an early night.

As for Miguel, it was a whole different story. Unbeknownst to you, he didn’t get any sleep that night. Tossing and turning, his cock aching at the thought of you. Each and every time that he tried to close his eyes, all he could picture was you between his thighs.

It was that look. That look you had in your eye, it was full of hunger and desire. It was a look that proudly told him that all you had wanted to do was to make him feel good.

Reminiscing on this, guilt ran through his bloodstream like poison, questions running through his mind.

Why didn’t he ask you to be his valentine’s sooner? Why didn’t he confess there and then? Why did he have to wait so long to make a move? Do you feel the same as him? Do you feel as if your soul is eating you from the inside out, tempting you to confess how you really feel? If he did confess, would you have canceled all your plans for him? Or would you act like how you’re acting now, pretending that nothing happened?

“I’m not being weird. I’m tired.” He mumbles, still poking at his cereal. In his mind he can already hear the voice of his mother berating him for it.

“Right.” you say, unable to think of anything more to say. Normally, it’s easier than this to start off playful banter between the two of you but you can sense Miguel’s energy was off.

This was almost reminiscent of your earlier days after moving in. How you both exchanged awkwardness and empty conversations that resulted from who's turn it was to take out the trash and the weather forecast.

You figure that perhaps Valentine's Day wasn't the best day for him, assuming that his behavior is the result of something else that happened. You decide to keep your pondering questions to yourself, instead finishing your breakfast in silence. You scroll mindlessly on your phone, seeing multiple posts of friends already waking up to cute valentine gifts and what not.

Audibly, you let out a sigh, wondering if your date – whom you may come across at work– has anything planned for you this morning.

You glance over at Miguel who continues to stare down at his bowl, the obnoxious sound of milk falling off his spoon fills the silence.

Anxiety builds up in your stomach about last night. Was it wrong to ask him to help you? Perhaps he regrets what happened, suddenly wishing he’d never agree to it. Your negative thoughts continue to build up inside you, suddenly taking away your appetite.

You thought last night was…good. Great, even. It had given you confidence for tonight.

if anything was to happen tonight.

Was last night helpful? Most definitely.

Did it spark something in you that you’ve tried to keep buried since the very moment you moved into the apartment? Sure.

Did you want to do it again? Hell yes.

But the question is, does he feel the same?

You take in his demeanor, his low mood and refusal to look up at you. Maybe he hates you so much that he can’t bear to stand you after last night. This brutal assumption was all you needed to get yourself to snap back into reality.

Before disappearing to get changed for work, you take one last glance at Miguel, who continues to ignore you. By the time you step out of your room to leave the apartment for work you find the kitchen empty.

You find a single bowl of cereal on the table that remains unfinished.

/

Exhausted, miguel steps into the apartment. He thinks it’s nearing 6pm by the time he arrives, taking a little longer than usual to return.

As soon as he shuts the door behind him he can hear your voice calling for him; a personal singsong just for him bouncing off the walls. After locking the door, he turns to hang up his coat before bending down to remove his shoes.

By the time he looks up again, you’re suddenly standing in front of him and for a second it feels like his breath is knocked out of his lungs.

And there you were. Stood in front of him with a cheesy smile across your lips, wearing a dress he’s never seen before. You tilt your head to one side, awkwardly fiddling with your hands as Miguel stares you down.

“Do you think it’s a little too much?”

You move your body a little, providing different angles of the dress. Immediately Miguel’s eyes are drawn to the way that your curves hug at the dress. His eyes are latched onto you, unblinking. As he stands in silence your mind turns into panic, taking it as a negative reaction. Maybe it’s not the right dress.

Your disappointment is more than obvious as you start to turn, heading back to your bedroom where a pile of clothes await your return. “You’re right, I think I should–”

“Perfect.”

Finally, the words leave his throat.

If the words ‘Will you be my Valentine?’ won’t fall from his lips then he makes sure that you’re able to hear this at least.

“It’s perfect.” He repeats, a little louder now. His body forces himself to blink now, eyes stinging at the image of you.

“Are you sure?” Your tone is apprehensive, unable to see the positive correlation between his reaction with his words. “Because I think I have a better dress–”

“No.” Miguel swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I like this one, it looks good. Perfect.”

He likes it.

Relief crashes over you, all doubt washed away. His external validation was the only thing you needed.

“Really?”

Miguel’s patience was wearing thin at your disbelief, it took everything in him not to run up to you and mark you as his. It took everything in him not to run his hands all over your body, to ingest every feature, to worship it, to make love to it and provide you everything you had ever wanted.

God, he wanted nothing more but to prove to you that, yes, you looked fucking gorgeous, stunning even. If there was a moment where he wanted to kick himself in the balls for not asking you out sooner, the moment would be now.

“Really. Don’t change.”

He can’t tell whether this final validation was all you needed or whether his tone was finally believable to you but either way he’s satisfied that he has finally gotten through to you as a smile reaches for your lips.

“Thanks mig’. ” you mutter quickly, turning from him as fast as you could to hide the heat that now spread rapidly across your face. You say nothing more, disappearing as quickly as you had appeared, leaving him in a wondrous state.

/

“Think you’ll be okay?”

You don’t look up at him, too busy replying back to a message. He watches as your thumbs move across the small screen at lighting speed. “Yeah, yeah, he’s nearly here.” you mumble quietly. Unfortunately, you’re too preoccupied to notice the look of apprehension on Miguel’s face.

There’s something that gnaws at him completely. From the inside, just begging to be let out. He doesn’t know whether it’s a confession, his jealousy or anger at himself. He assumes that this feeling is a mix of all three.

He can tell that you're nervous, teeth softly biting down on your bottom lip, heels tapping the floor with impatience. If you weren’t holding your phone with two hands, he’d bet that you’d be biting at your nails. It takes everything in him not to grab you by the shoulders, forcing you to look at him and take a few deep breaths.

Soon enough, a ding is heard from your phone and he watches how your face lights up. All he can do is stand awkwardly as you tell him your date is here to pick you up. Miguel watches you as you make your way to the door, double checking your purse for anything that you may have forgotten.

A wish of ‘good luck’ dies in Miguel’s throat as you slip through the door, leaving him with nothing more than an echoed goodbye.

The second he hears the door lock behind you, a sigh seems to leave his lips. He can smell the lingering scent of a perfume that he had bought for you as a christmas present, a new favorite that you only wore on special occasions.

Silence now begins to torment him, his mind is jumping to conclusions. What if this one date will lead to a second date and then a third and then a tenth? Until eventually the day comes, when you announce that you’ll be moving out.

He’ll be left on his own, again.

And all that follows are bland text messages from you every now and again, checking up on him as a friend whilst he falls back into the shadows, forever stuck with the label of ‘roommate’.

The deafening silence continues to torture him, thoughts emerging to the idea of your date becoming the love of your life. It's completely stupid and useless to jump to this assumption but he can’t help it. He can’t help but tyrannize himself, his insecurity eating away his insides like vermin.

“Fuckin’ hell, you need to get yourself together.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, making his way over to the couch. He collapses with exhaustion, a groan leaving his body as he does so.

It takes him more than a few minutes to realize that he’s sitting in the same spot as last night. The only difference being is that there’s no pretty girl sitting between his thighs, eyes glowing at him with lust and desire. This single thought is enough to make him hard.

A curse or two is muttered under his breath as an uncontrollable bulge begins to grow in his pants. He really shouldn’t. But he does.

His fingertips run over his crotch as he reminisces about last night: the innocent look on your face, your shock at how big his cock was, your attempt to take him whole, desperately trying to fit him into that pretty little mouth of yours, and by god, it took everything in him not to keep you down there.

But that look, that glow almost dared him to. Your eyes silently expressed that this was all for him. Miguel lets out a groan, finally giving in to his needs, a hand slipping into his pants to free his aching cock from his boxers.

He gives slow, long strokes imitating what you had done yesterday. A quiet whimper leaves his throat, his thumb wiping away at the pre-cum at the crown of his length. He remembers the way his body shudders as you left tantalizing little circles at the tip of his cock, practically torturing him.

His thoughts drastically change from imagining your mouth teasing his cock to how he would tease your dripping cunt. He imagines how soaked you would be for him and wonders whether you were like this yesterday, when you were sucking him off, completely soaked through your panties.

Miguel lets out a groan at the mere thought, his hand now increasing the pace of his strokes. You’d be so tight, he thinks, so tight that your eyes would tear up at your cunt trying to take him whole. His cock would stuff every inch of you, your cunt clenching around him, your little whines persuading him to go deeper, trying to prove that you can take it all.

He wraps a tight fist around himself, pumping himself a little faster now, his breath hitched. His free hand grips at a pillow beside him, imagining that he was taking handfuls of your ass as he buried himself deeper into you. He’d start off slow, let you get adjusted to his size before building up a merciless pace.

Miguel imagines your body writhing beneath him, fingertips scratching at his back as he pleases you. Miguel begins to feel heat in his lower abdomen, his eyes are closed and brows are furrowed as he tries to focus on pornographic images of you in his mind. He imagines your whimpers, babbling to him about how good it feels. That’s all he wanted to do. Make you feel good.

“Please, please, please– fuck, don’t stop.”

Miguel’s thighs begin to tense, hips jerking slightly as he fists his cock. It feels too good to stop. It’s wrong but he can’t stop your name from escaping from his lips. He surrenders to the feelings of pleasure and complete euphoria. He feels the cord in his lower abdomen begin to snap away, desperate pleads echo off the walls as he cums, his seed spilling across his hand and lower abdomen.

Coming down from his climax, the realization of what he’s done crashes over him like a wave and suddenly he finds himself violently drowning. Drowning in a sea of his thoughts and his mistakes. Cruelly, he reminds himself that he can’t be saved and that he deserves to be alone. After all…

he has no one to blame but himself.

click here for part 3

#angel writes #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel smut #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara atsv #atsv headcanons #atsv x reader #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader fluff

[barcaatthemoon]

flirty || alessia russo x reader ||

you flirt a little with alessia, despite the team's teasing.

you walked into the locker room like you did every other day. for the most part, nobody paid much attention to you aside from a wave here or there. you sat down in your cubby, immediately catching the eye of alessia, who was sat directly across from you. she glanced up at you and waved, which you responded to with a wink and wave of your own. like always, alessia looked away from you extremely flustered.

"careful, you flirt any more and they'll think you're me," katie teased as she nudged you. you rolled your eyes. there were tons of people already drawing comparisions to the two of you. katie mccabe was definitely your best friend on the team, but you didn't think the two of you played all that similarly.

you weren't overly aggressive, you were just stubborn. katie was the one with a shoving problem, one that you often had to pull her back from showing. almost everybody on the team liked to tease katie that she was more whipped for you than she was for her own girlfriend. the jokes didn't really bother you, but they definitely would have if you knew how much they messed with alessia.

that was where the true soft spot for you was. katie was bound to get her ass kicked one day, but you were prolonging it. in all honesty, you were pretty sure you'd actually be the one to do it. you didn't look out for katie the way that you tried to for alessia. that was something that kim and jen had quickly shut down anybody messing with the two of you about. both of them could see the care in your eyes every single time that you looked at her.

"that's funny, i don't remember shrinking six inches and losing all my muscle mass," you joked. katie wound up to hit you, only to be interrupted by kim clearing her throat. "morning kim!"

"good morning (y/n), you seem to be in a good mood," kim noted. you nodded as you started changing into your training kit. you turned your back to katie, and incidentally alessia, whose jaw dropped when she saw the new tattoo you'd gotten.

"what the fuck is that?" katie asked as she rushed over to touch your back. you were glad that you had gotten it a little over a week ago whenever you were on injury leave. katie's fingers poked and prodded at the tattoo, as if she couldn't believe that you had done it. "who the hell is that for?"

"katie, shut up, it looks cool," alessia said as she walked over to the two of you. you shot her a grateful look over your shoulder before you pulled your training kit on.

"thanks less, i'm glad someone has good taste around here," you teased. alessia blushed as your attention was focused solely on her for a second. "walk to the gym with me? you're much better company than mccabe."

"hey!" katie exclaimed.

"i'd like that," alessia said. she let you finish getting ready, surprised when you linked arms with her. you walked ahead of leah, beth, katie, and caitlin. you could feel all of their eyes on you, but you chose to ignore them.

…

"what's the deal with you and lessi?" leah asked as the two of you walked through the parking lot together. you quirked an eyebrow at her, unsure of what she meant. as far as you knew, there was nothing going on between you and alessia. if there was, you really wished that someone would have told you sooner. "you're very flirty, someone might get the idea that you like her."

"a little flirting never hurt anybody," you said. truthfully, it was starting to hurt both you and alessia. you wanted her to take the things that you said seriously, but she always seemed to dismiss it as friendly and jovial remarks.

"you like her though, don't you?" leah asked. you glanced down at your feet as you nodded your head. "talk to her then. i'm sure that she likes you too."

"leah, if she doesn't-," you started, only to be cut off by leah's hand covering your mouth.

"don't think like that, okay? i've seen the way she looks at you, and it's sickening. absolutely disgusting, i can't sit there any longer while the two of you dance around whatever this is. don't ask her out for you, do it for your team, who are all sick and tired of your flirting without getting anywhere," leah said. you knew that she was teasing you, but that she also believed alessia wouldn't reject you.

alessia and leah had a tendency to talk to each other, most likely more about these sorts of things than you did. leah knew why you were so closed off, having remembered your first big heart break. if she was pushing you towards alessia, then it absolutely had to mean something. that was what you told yourself when you made your way towards her apartment after practice was through.

"(y/n)!" ella shouted excitedly, ruining your surprise. alessia quickly turned to face you, a small smile appearing on her face. she seemed somewhat frazzled, most likely by what you assumed was ella's surprise visit. "just the woman we were talking about. come on over, give me a big one, it's been a while."

"you're ridiculous," you laughed. still, you walked over and engulfed ella in the biggest hug you could muster. behind her, you noticed a somewhat sad look on alessia's face. "don't worry, you can have a hug too."

"it's not-," alessia tried to protest, but it was no use. you stood in front of her with your arms open, and alessia walked right into them. she was a bit taller than you, just barely noticeable, but you took full advantage of it. your hug with her lasted longer than yours with ella's, the two of you not wanting to separate. "what are you doing here?"

"i wanted to see you, that's all," you told her. it was sort of a lie, but also so unbelievably true. alessia blushed as she tried to duck away from you. "if you're busy though, i can go back home."

"no, i want you to stay for a while. maybe you could help me with dinner and stay for a movie?" alessia suggested. you nodded, following her inside. ella ended up only staying for a late lunch, leaving you and alessia alone for the majority of the night together. alessia ordered in your favorite while you put on a movie you knew she'd love. "this is nice."

"yeah it is," you agreed. you were cuddled up beneath her arm, feeling warm and safe. you glanced up at her at the same time that she looked down, both of you pausing to look at each other's lips. "careful, if you look at me like that again, i might just have to kiss you."

"i want you to. god, i want it so bad," alessia confessed. you were immediately put into a state of shock as you stared up at alessia. she looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole, and as she started to move away, you sprung into action.

"i want to kiss you too. i've wanted to since the euros," you told her. alessia looked surprised. the euros was really the first camp where the two of you had played together. before then, you'd only been competitors, which hadn't left much room for making friends.

"will you kiss me?" alessia asked nervously. you nodded, moving up to press a feather-light kiss to her lips. it was supposed to be a peck on the lips, but alessia grabbed onto your face to deepen it. she pulled you further onto her lap, holding you against her with no intention of letting you go. "stay the night."

"that's moving a bit fast less. i'll finish the movie, but i really do have to go after that," you told her. alessia looked a bit upset by the rejection, but she understood nonetheless. and so, she kept you close to her until the movie was over and you got up to leave.

"can i have a goodbye kiss?" alessia asked you. you leaned down and pressed your lips to hers for a quick kiss. "oh, and a goodnight one? oh, and an advance on my good morning one since you aren't staying over?"

"you can't trick me into staying by making me kiss you," you told her. alessia pouted up at you until you gave in to her demands of more kisses. she may not have convinced you to stay, but she had gotten a good ten minutes of kisses before you actually left her for the night.

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo x reader

[orikiys]

✿ ✿ 〞 the aftermath

✰ pairings: ot8!skz x gn!reader

✰ genre: fluff, a bit of angst and romance

✰ warnings: cursing, tears, aftermaths

✰ word count: 2k+ words

part 1

౨₊ৎ chan

it’s been a few days since the fight. and chan hated himself for saying those things which he shouldn’t have. regret was an understatement. even the members were aware of the fight since chan kept overworking and refused to go home out of shame. he promised himself that he would always protect you, and he felt himself collapse every time he remembered the fight.

truthfully, you weren’t much better as well. you missed him, you did. and you wished he would come back home sooner but you couldn’t muster the courage to say that to him. you knew he would be beating himself up for the fight, even though part of it was your fault as well. you agreed with it.

your heart leaped out of your throat when chan stood on the door, holding a bouquet of roses. and although he tried to do his best to smile, it immediately turned into a sob when he saw you.

“i’m so sorry baby. so so sorry,” he hiccuped, and rested his face on your shoulder and closed his eyes in relief, when he felt your familiar arms wrap around his torso and held him close.

“it’s not your fault entirely. it was mine as well,” you hushed out and pressed a kiss on his head, feeling him cry harder at this.

pulling away, he leaned his forehead to yours and let out a weak chuckle.

wiping away your tears he muttered, “god i love you so much.”

you giggle softly and press a kiss on his nose, “i love you more mr bang.”

౨₊ৎ minho

you laid face down on the bed, with hot tears spilling down. it had been two hours since the fight, but yet minho didn’t once dare to apologise. your eyes burned so much that it hurt.

a knock breaks you out of your session. with a hesitant step minho enters the room and feels his heart ache upon your state. gulping the lump forming in his throat he walks closer but gets shoved away when you stand up and push him out of the room out of anger. and he lets you. knowing he deserved it. his eyes show pain but he doesn’t stop you and finally looks down at you in the eye.

“minho you’ve said enough, please leave me alone for some time,” the moment the door slammed in his face, he dropped to his knees and let his tears flow.

“i’m s-sorry. i really am,” he whispered, leaning his head against the door and wiped away the tears but they kept flowing continuously.

“i didn’t mean to i swear,” his voice kept cracking but he tried to continue in hopes you could hear the despair and desperation in his tone.

“i feel horrible for hurting you kitten, i mean it. and even though i tend to appear closed off, i love you so much, i really do,” upon hearing his voice you had to bite your lips to muffle the sob threatening to escape.

sure you were angry at him. but you couldn’t just let him cry his eyes out on that cold floor. about 15 minutes later, with soft steps you opened the door and looked down at him. he was hugging his knees close to his chest, and looked so. . . lonely.

his eyes practically shone upon seeing you, but it disappeared when reality hit him that he was the one who caused this. he raised himself up, and slowly and very hesitantly wrapped his arms around you. he pulled you in his embrace and tucked your head in his chest, letting you cry. letting you release your anger at him.

he would do anything if it means he gets you back. if he can erase the mistake he made.

“i won’t ever let my anger control me. i promise,” he mumbled and you smiled softly. you believed him. his words held sincerity and so did his eyes.

you were just glad to know he would try his best to not let this occur again.

౨₊ৎ changbin

the next few days passed by a blur. you were doing your best at ignoring changbin and hoping he would realise his mistake. which he did all too soon.

“hey,” he greets you with a soft smile but receives silence which makes his smile falter but he tries to stay happy for you.

then he proceeds to tell you about his day but the moment you begin to get up, he can feel those silver tears dripping down.

he clutches the hem of your shirt in your hand, and backhugs you. leaning his forehead on your back he mutters, “don’t punish me like this anymore. i can’t t-take it. i’m very sorry baby. please. i promise to take you on dates weekly now, will that work?” his clutches your shirt tighter and forces you to turn around.

he lets out a soft scoff when he sees the tears on your face as well. cupping your face he mutters, “i’ll plan the dates from now on. you don’t need to. and i’ll reach an hour early if you want,” your chuckle makes him smile as well. with a soft sigh he presses his lips on your forehead making you breathe out in relief. war is over. finally. and you couldn’t be more thankful.

౨₊ৎ hyunjin

every day of his tour, hyunjin video called you for at least 2 hours. and you almost felt guilty for taking up that much time but then he reassured you that nothing’s wrong. wrong turned right. and his sincerity turned stronger if possible. he began showing you his love subtly and more often.

“i really am sorry,” he murmurs, twisting his head a bit to kiss the skin of your arm closest to him. “i hate fighting. didn’t mean to make you upset.”

he sat on the bed with you in his lap and hugged you tightly as if you would disappear if he let you go.

“hyunie, i’m not going anywhere you can let go of me now,” you laughed when you saw him whine and childishly shake his head in denial.

“no. never. do you not love me anymore?” his dramatic tone almost makes you laugh out loud but you decide to play along.

with a soft gasp you mutter, “that’s impossible! i love artist hyunjin so much.”

he blushes upon the nickname and looks at your hands intertwined with his.

raising it in the hair he smiles at the sight, “doesn’t this look like a perfect sight? which means we are perfect for each other.”

tackling you down to bed with hands poking your sides you giggled, and maybe it was just time he needed to take out for you.

౨₊ৎ han

“look what i got!” he yelled out loud, wiggling the plastic bag in his hands as he made his way over to you.

passing him a blank stare, you turn your head and continue watching the drama. you feel him sit beside you. you feel him stare at your face. you feel him shift closer to you till his knees are touching your. you also feel him grab your hand, delicately. you let your eyes wander over your hand and watch him touch your index finger, trace patterns which are out of nowhere and suddenly you’re snapped back by his soft sigh.

“i’m terribly sorry– i’m not asking you to forgive me, not that you would this sooner as i may or may not, no i may have committed the biggest mistake of my life by treating you that way. and i swear it may sound funny to you but i literally panicked when those words left my mouth. i felt like beating the shit out of myself because i still can’t believe that my own mouth could even utter words like that–” his words get cut off when you wrap your arms around his neck, practically choking him but he doesn’t care. a huge grin spreads across his face as he brings you closer to him.

he looks into your eyes as he says the next words, “i promise i’ll be a better version of myself. for you.”

౨₊ৎ felix

you drag yourself into felix and chan’s dorm building and sigh for upteempth time. it felt weird to come here with this unexpected reason. but you had to. you had to apologise to him and mend the things between the two of you before the matters took a toll for the worse. the door opens and there you see hyunjin, still rubbing his eyes. he must’ve probably woken up now, you let your gaze wander behind him, trying to find any hints of lee felix. but there’s none. though you do wonder what hyunjin is doing here. you bite your lip to stop yourself from asking that question and instead focus on felix.

“he’s in the kitchen,” hyunjin rasps out after having seemingly read your thoughts which makes you flush about how you were like an open book to him. walking into the kitchen you find felix whisking the eggs with all his strength and even managing to spill some out.

“lixie,” your voice comes off even weaker than you expected. but felix’s head snaps in your direction and only then do you notice his state. his dishevelled hair, flour stains on his cheeks and dried tears that break your heart. without letting him speak anything you crumble into his arms and hold him tightly.

“i’m sorry! i’m so sorry, my sunshine. i misunderstood you entirely. and i– god i just did the biggest mistake letting you walking like that,” and when you don’t feel his arms wrap around you, you pull back just to see him trying to control his tears. he doesn’t want to appear weak in front of you and that breaks your heart even more.

“it’s okay lixie,” was the last straw before he buried his head in the crook of your head and let himself go. lose all control of his emotions till he doesn’t have anything to hide. and at that moment, you swore you could feel at utter peace.

౨₊ৎ seungmin

you feel the bed dip beside you but you stay still, laying on your side with your eyes closed and pretending to be asleep. he lets out a soft sigh at something you can’t see and you resist the urge to turn around and observe him.

slowly, you feel arms pull you close to his chest and although you try to struggle, it’s of no use. he just hugs you tighter.

“i’m sorry. i really am,” his breath fans your neck as you speak and you try your very best to stay still and forgive him. but that wall cracks the moment you feel something damp against your shoulder.

you turn to look at him as he tries to hide himself but he’s too late. and now he’s afraid whether you’ll forgive him, judge him or throw him out. but he’s surprised when he feels you hug him and whisper it’s okay. his arms automatically wrap around you and he truly feels it. it’s okay.

౨₊ৎ jeongin

your phone keeps vibrating from jeongin’s texts and you try your best to ignore him until you see him walk on the road, looking like a lost kid searching for his mother. his eyes are red and puffy from crying and his throat probably aches too from asking random people about you.

you frown at the side and for some reason you can feel your heart ache. why? you’re not sure why. weren’t you supposed to stay angry at him until he begs for forgiveness? then why are your legs taking you to him? until you’re standing right in front of him and panting.

his eyes shine, but with sorrow and remorse. he tries to wipe his tears. tries to hide the fact as if he wasn’t just searching for you all around like a desperate person, but he fails. he looks down at his feet, unable to meet your eyes and feels the tears drip down his chin and on to the floor.

various words escape his mouth, some stuttered, some muffled while some he chose to say in his mind. but the only sentence you were able to understand was that he is sorry. and that he loves you and will wait until you forgive him.

he finally looks up, and he swore that he could’ve seen your lips lift and finally he could breathe normally again.

#ॱଳ͘ #k labels #straykids reactions #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #chan x reader #minho x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #skx angst #skz scenarios #skz x gn reader

[lizardaggro]

on the flip side (twst bully!au) part 4

sorry this didn't get out sooner; my sleep issues are really upset (might be daylight savings?) and i spent most of the past few days feeling like a zombie. i'm better now though! it's also a bit shorter than i'd like, but i didn't want to leave you guys hanging. also two fics? in one day?? crazy!

part 1 part 2 part 3 genre: gn reader, angst trigger warnings: bullying, yandere has officially escalated word count: 897

“Child of man,” Malleus said. Even his voice felt suffocating. “Lilia has informed me that some… pests have been bothering you as of late.” He must mean the others. Did he really not know? Well, you supposed it wasn’t too farfetched, since he didn’t have any friends and everyone was afraid of him, especially after his Overblot. “You need only have let me know and I would have… taken care of them. But worry not. You’ll be safe here, where no one would dare to harm you.”

Oh no. Oh no no no. It was finally happening. Malleus had lost his mind. It felt a little nice, you’d admit, knowing that at least one person still cared for you. But that didn’t mean you could accept being trapped here for who knows how long. You still had to take care of Grim and attend classes. Not to mention you hated feeling trapped.

You knew you couldn’t count on anyone to save you. Lilia was the only one who might be able to make him see reason, but he seemed to be fully complicit in the matter. The dorm leaders might be somewhat capable if they worked together, but they’d have no motive for that, other than to torment you further.

Getting angry and yelling wouldn’t solve anything here. You had to be smart about it. “Tsunotarou, I can’t stay here. You know that,” you reasoned. “I have responsibilities to take care of. Besides, wouldn’t you grow tired of me? Everyone else did, after all.” You surprised yourself with how true your sentiments were. Maybe you harbored more negative feelings about all of this than you’d realized.

Naturally you were pissed that everyone turned on you, but you’d never really stopped to think about how lonely you’d been. Even your professors would hardly give you the time of day. You didn’t even know what you possibly could’ve done to set them off. Grim and the ghosts were the only ones whose attitudes never changed; but it wasn’t the same.

Malleus was pouting; there was simply no other way to describe the look on his face. “Surely you don’t mean that; not after everything they’ve done,” he quipped. Was he serious? In what way did he think you’d enjoy being trapped inside one tiny room for who knows how long?

“Yes. I do. And I don’t appreciate you taking away my freedom like this. If you really cared about me, you’d respect my wishes.” You hoped appealing to his emotions would work, no, you needed it to work. If it didn’t, you weren’t sure how long your sanity would last.

“I do care about you, Child of Man,” he objected. “Can’t you see that’s why I’m doing this? It isn’t safe out there. You’ll get hurt by those vile beings you once called friends.” He spat out that last word, like they were undeserving of the title. You didn’t know how to feel about that.

There was one thing you did know, however: this man was delusional. He’d gone paranoid with worries for your safety, even though he knew nothing just hours ago and was fine. He’d always been a little possessive, you’d noticed, but you’d brushed it off as him being afraid of losing his one and only friend. Now this? This was a whole new level.

Ah, but then you remembered. Malleus knew about most of the bullying, but not all of it. You doubted Lilia would’ve tattled on his own dorm members. You smiled, catching him off guard. “But am I any safer in here? I bet you don’t know, after all. You don’t know how Sebek would beat me in the halls, how Silver watches me everywhere I go. It’s creepy; I don’t like it. And I’m sure Lilia didn’t tell you how he tries to poison me with his cooking,” you listed calmly, as if you were having an ordinary conversation.

“They WHAT?!” Malleus shouted. “LILIA! SILVER! SEBEK! GET OVER HERE THIS INSTANT!” You flinched; he was usually so calm, you didn’t expect him to suddenly yell like that. It was good that he believed you, not that you were lying. You didn’t have a backup plan.

As the unfortunate trio entered the room, you made your way over to the door. You thought you’d managed to slip out unnoticed, but Lilia shot you a wink. Did that mean he’d keep his mouth shut about your escape? You could only hope.

You ran through the halls, Malleus’s shouting covering up the sounds of your footfalls. You knew this place like the back of your hand, so you weren’t at risk of getting lost. The only question was how long the lecture would last. If you were lucky, Lilia would buy you some time, but you wouldn’t count on it.

And then, at last, you were safe, on the other side of the portal. You were totally winded, after having had the run of your life. Everything seemed great, but then you heard a voice.

“Oya? What do we have here? What were you doing in Diasomnia, prefect?” Jade asked with a definitely fake smile like he didn’t know exactly what you were doing in Diasomnia. Oh, great. Azul was with him too. How… lovely. Staying with Malleus was starting to sound like it wasn’t so bad after all. No, nevermind. It was definitely worse.

taglist (CLOSED): @twistedcece @slxt4h1m @teawhere @pleasehugmeaether @reivelmin @aoiyx @trashlanternfish360 @probablynoposts @d3sperate-enuf @mono273 @help-whatdoimakemyusername @justuraverageeverydaydegenerate @im-here-for-the-fun-of-it

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst bully!au #twst bully au #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #sebek zigvolt #diasomnia #twisted wonderland silver #lilia vanrouge #azul ashengrotto #jade leech

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

I Want It All: Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

Astarion x AsexaulBard!Tav Masterlist

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Asexual!Reader, Astarion x Bard!Reader

Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Soft!Astarion, Allusion to Astarion's Past (Sexual Assult/Dissociation)

Summary: You and Astarion had been playing this little game of yours for a while; he pretends to care, you pretend not to fall for it. It’s easy, even fun at times. The trouble is, what happens the moment you can’t pretend anymore?

A/N: Holy shit! It's done! Thank you so much to everyone who has commented and reblogged and just...everything. I cannot tell you how much it means to be to know this story has resonated with so many people. I don't have any plans to continue this as a larger story (I still haven't played the game); however, if anyone would like to send requests for small one-shots or headcanons involving Astarion and this Asexual!Tav, feel free to send me an ask.

Also, sorry if I didn't tag you. There were a lot of request, so I stuck to those who asked on the previous chapter.

And as always REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS! I NEED VALIDATION TO SURVIVE!!!

Word Count: 5.2K

You didn’t sleep that night, but what else did you expect?

For hours you simply lay in the dark, staring at the window. The patter of rain was the only source of sound besides your own breathing. Even that small comfort didn’t last as the storm passed leaving behind cloud covered silence.

No tears came to you.  What had you to grieve over? Everything you felt had been a product of your imagination. You knew that.

Still, it ached.  There was a throbbing in your throat you couldn’t swallow down and a constant pressure behind your eyes.  You almost wished you would cry, just to get it out of your system. If you could have a nice little breakdown, there was a chance you could get over this. It would be the slap in the face you needed to accept reality. Maybe then you’d stop doing this to yourself.

All the same, it stayed there, pressing heavy on your chest until the sun teased the edges of the clouds beaconing morning.

You groaned, burying your face into the pillow. You couldn’t lie and wallow the rest of the day. You had things to do, places to be, worms to destroy. The sooner you had something else to occupy your thoughts the better.

With an effort you pulled yourself out of bed and slowly made your way to the dining room.

You were a bit surprised to see everybody already up. Wyll, Karlach, Lae’zel, Shadowheart, and Gale were already seated with plates of half eaten food in front of them.  Two seats were still empty, settings ready and untouched. A quick look around confirmed the rest, Astarion had yet to make an appearance.

“Morning everyone,” you said, trying your best to be cheerful as you sat yourself between Gale and Wyll.  

You could feel all their eyes on you, no doubt noticing the dark circles under yours.

“Morning,” Gale greeted. “I trust you slept well.”

He let out a small yelp of pain.

You looked up to catch him glaring at Shadowheart as she shot him a disapproving look.

You frowned. Did she just kick him?

“I mean, ah, did you lie comfortably?” he amended.

“Seriously?” Karlach questioned.

You swore you could feel the heat of Gale’s blush, as he grumbled into his toast. “Damn it, you know what I mean.”

“Do I?” you asked.

“We just hoped you spent the rest of the night…pleasantly,” Wyll tried, and ultimately failed.

Your stomach flipped, as harsh, dreadful realization washed over you.  Yes, of course they would.

“You don’t look well,” Lae’zel noted. “After all his boasting, I had thought Astarion would leave his partners more satisfied.”

You didn’t say anything, deciding to take a bite of egg as an excuse. Now would be a great time for the ground to open and swallow you into the hells. Gods knew it would be an improvement.

“She’s right,” Shadowheart said, sounding a little annoyed to admit it. “You do look tired and not the good kind. Did something happen?”

“Did he hurt you,” Wyll said, his brow furrowing in sudden concern.

“What?! No!” you said quickly. “Nothing happened.”

“How’d you mean nothing happened?” Karlach put in. “We all saw what we saw. How could anyone turn down all of that?”

Fresh embarrassment washed over you, making you wish you could erase the last twenty-four hours and crawl into the nearest, deepest hole. You had spent the whole night worried about what Astarion would make of your vision, you had all but forgotten you had shared that part of yourself with all of your companions. Of course they would have their own interpretations.

“It wasn’t like that.”

A quick look around the table gave away the doubtful thoughts of all.  

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to calm. They weren’t going to believe you if you were emotional about this.

“Look, I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. As I said, nothing happened. We talked, and it became clear that we just want different things. That’s the beginning and the end of it. Now are we done or are you all going to keep chattering on like a bunch of fishwives?”

The silence at the table was palpable as everyone exchanged looks.

Alright, maybe being calm wasn't a realistic expectation, but you hadn’t lied. Sure, there were some details you neglected to share, but that really was the long and the short of it. He hadn’t done anything wrong and neither had you. It just didn’t work out.

The plain truth of it settled in your heart carving out a hollow space for it to lay in.

Gale was the first to act, clearing his throat. “Fair enough, the matter is closed. Please, accept our apology. With such an intimate group as ours, it’s sometimes easy to forget that one’s personal matters can be well and truly personal.”

He looked at the rest of the group, each nodding in agreement to various degrees of reluctancy.

“Just for the record though, if you need someone to knock some sense into that pretty boy’s head, you just need to ask,” Karlach offered. 

Despite yourself, you had to smile. “I’ll think about it.”

You then turned to Gale, who met you with kind eyes and a comforting smile. You let yourself be warmed by it, even if you still felt a little guilty for snapping. He really did understand. It was easy for heartbreak to recognize heartbreak.

“Thank you,” you murmured. 

To your surprise, his first instinct wasn’t to reach for words, but rather your hand as he gave your fingers a gentle squeeze. 

“Anytime.” 

“Good morning everyone. Gossiping without me?”

You whipped your head around to find Astarion standing near the head of the table, a sardonic smile on his lips and a hard glare in his eyes.  No doubt he had heard everything. 

Everybody shifted in their seats, glancing between you and Astarion. You averted your gaze, focusing hard on the table in front of you. 

Gale’s hand still rested over yours. Whatever comfort it had given you, faded as something akin to panic flooded your veins. In the next second, you rose from your chair, scraping it hard against the floor in your hurry. 

“I’ve still got some packing to do,” you said. “Be back down in a few.” 

Coward’s way out? Yes, but after the night you had, you figured you were entitled to it. 

Keeping your head down, you slipped past Astarion, feeling him watch you as you made your way back up the stairs. 

If you had lingered a moment, you might have caught the flash of hurt in his eyes. You might have noticed how his clothes were more rumpled than usual. You might even have seen his hand twitch with the instinct to reach for yours. But you didn’t see, and anything that might have happened disappeared in a brush of air. 

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

The next several days carried on in much the same way.  Not as torturous as that first morning, but still a drudge of avoidance and awkward silences. 

In your defense, Astarion seemed just as keen to keep his distance. Where he used to be your preverbal shadow, filling the hours of travel with idle teasing and conversation, now he kept to the back, his mouth decidedly shut. 

The others caught on and seemed determined to make up the difference. Karlach, Shadowheart and Wyll especially made a point to walk alongside you, telling stories and jokes in an attempt to make you smile. 

You did your best. They meant well, but in some ways they only served to emphasize the absence of another. 

Gale, on the other hand, had the foresight to try a different approach. He made it clear he didn’t expect you to talk, but always made sure you had the best spot by the fire and a little extra of whatever he made for the camp. You had to wonder if Tara had provided a similar comfort to him after Mystra. It was obvious he had the practice. 

Even Lae’zel offered to help you train it off, something about how your, “objectively weak body had left the rest of you vulnerable to attack”. A part of you felt the insult, but the gesture was appreciated. 

Honestly, all of this care was starting to make you feel guilty. None of them were giving Astarion the same courtesy. He wasn’t being shunted exactly, but the message was loud and clear; they were on your side. 

This was met by him taking a step back from the late night conversations. His interactions with the others were kept short and lacked his usual humorous flare. He took his shifts on watch alone and he spent even more time either roaming the forest or in his tent. 

The only person he consistently spoke to was Gale, which should have raised some alarm bells on their own, but you never caught what they were discussing. All you knew was Astarion never appeared especially pleased while Gale gave a look of someone begging the gods for patience. 

All of this was your fault. You just wanted things to go back to normal. Even if you couldn’t be with Astarion the way you imagined, you still valued his friendship.  If this kept up, there was a chance he might decide to leave all together. An olive branch was needed, something to signal you didn’t hold a grudge or expect anything more. 

The answer came to you one early evening as you took note of his haggard looks and less than graceful steps out of camp.  He hadn’t fed on you in a week and there was only so much deer and boar could do. 

You considered simply offering up your neck, but that felt too forward. Besides, you weren’t sure if you were ready to have him that close. The only other solution you could think of was to bleed yourself somehow. 

This proved more difficult than you first imagined. Astarion seemed to have an instinct for where to bite, balancing enough blood for himself without causing any permanent damage. You couldn’t boast the same. It took more than one cut to fill an empty goblet with what you hoped to be the right amount of blood. You’d ask Shadowheart to heal you properly later. Hopefully she’d accept a poorly executed knife trick as an excuse. 

You wrapped your wrist as best you could and, watching to make sure the others weren’t looking, slipped into Astarion’s tent. 

You were immediately hit with the scent of bergamot, rosemary, and aged brandy. A sense of calm washed over you at the familiar combination, settling comfortably in your lungs as you took in the space.

 A single candle remained lit, allowing just enough light for you to appreciate the rich purple and red fabrics lining the walls as well as the sheer number of pillows littering the floor. How he managed to pack so many was a mystery you doubt you would ever solve. The whole set up was down right ornate, but considering this was Astarion you were talking about, you shouldn’t have been surprised. 

It was only then you realized you’d never been inside before. He’d invited you more than once, but you’d always turned him down preferring to keep your feeding session in the open air. You had known, even then, any closer would give the wrong impression; all for naught it seemed.

You pushed the thought aside, pulling your attention back to the matter at hand. There had to be some place you could put the goblet where he wouldn’t knock it over. Why did he have to keep a side table outside the tent?

A shuffle came from just outside. Focusing your ears, you caught the tread of boots on grass transition to the nearly silent carpet just outside the tent flap. You turned using those handful of extra seconds to school your features into something passively innocent as Astarion ducked inside.

His whole body froze, his arm holding the fabric above his head as his eyes went wide. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. 

You took advantage of his momentary shock to examine his appearance more closely. He looked…well, tired and more than a little confused. No blood marked his shirt or his lips. His pants appeared to have taken a tear or two from a bramble bush. Even his hair looked just a bit disheveled in a way so unlike himself.  

“No luck hunting?” you said, unable to keep the concern out of your voice. 

He stared, as if your words were coming from somewhere far away and required extra time to reach his ears.

“I’ve had better,” he finally said. 

You nodded in understanding, shifting awkwardly as your eyes went to the goblet in your hands. 

“Here,” you offered. “No offense, but you look like you could use it.”

He gave a tight smile. “I’d say no offense taken, but this is me we’re talking about.” All the same, he took the cup, sniffing it cautiously. He blinked hard, his brows furrowing as he stuck his nose further into the cup and took a deep whiff. 

“Is this yours?” he asked. 

You shrugged, holding up your bandaged wrist. “Whose else would it be?”

His mouth parted slightly as if to say something before closing it again. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, his tone oddly serious. 

“I know,” you assured. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Once again, he opened his mouth as if to speak, but instead released a breath of a laugh, allowing whatever tension he had formed in those last few seconds to fall from his shoulders. 

“I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but it seems I can’t help it with you.” 

Before you could ask him what exactly he meant, he raised the goblet to his lips and drank. 

The effect was instantaneous. Your blood met his tongue and any control he had slipped away. His pupils dilated to those of a predator as he guzzled the whole thing down in two deep swallows. He let out a gasp of air before returning to the cup, licking the sides so not to waste a drop. A low hum of bliss came from deep in his chest as he savored the rest, allowing his fingers to scrap the bottom before bringing it back to his mouth. 

The sight should have left you horrified, but in truth, it was encouraging. Things would be different, but you could at least provide him this. 

“Do you need more?” you asked. 

This time his laugh was loud and genuine as he wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand before licking the remains; yet another thing you found inexplicably endearing. He really was just a big cat sometimes. 

“Dangerous thing to offer me in this state, darling,” he said. “Luckily for you, I found a nice burrow of rabbits yesterday.” 

Once satisfied there was truly nothing left, he set the goblet down on the ground before turning his attention to your wrist. 

“Let me see,” he said, reaching out a hand. 

“It’s fine,” you promised. “I’ll get Shadowheart to look at it later.” 

“I’ll be the judge of that, give it here.”

Knowing there was no fighting him, you relented, allowing him to unwrap the bandages.  

He visibly winced as he examined the litter of harsh scratches along your skin. “What did you use? A rusty spoon?” 

“I had trouble finding a good vein,” you said, feeling the need to defend yourself. You hadn’t thought it looked that bad. 

“Oh is that all? And here I thought you’d lost an argument with a displacer beast.” 

You pressed your lips into an annoyed line, but Astarion was already digging around his pack, coming back with a salve and potion of healing.  

“Drink this.”

You shook your head, ignoring the pleasant little flutter in your chest at the gesture. “I told you, I’ll just ask Shadowheart.”

“Oh this isn’t just for you,” he said, dryly. “Do you think I want her believing you’d willingly butcher yourself just to give me a proper meal? Neither of us would hear the end of it.” 

A small flush of embarrassment worked up your neck. He was right, of course. The party really hadn’t been subtle in their disapproval. It was the reason you had tried for discretion. 

Without further protest you accepted the potion. 

This seemed to appease him as he quickly got to work on applying the salve. 

He had bought it not long after you had come to your little feeding arrangement. It helped to sooth small cuts and bruises while minimizing the threat of scars. He had initially offered to provide…other services to relieve the pain, but you had declined. This was the compromise. You’d offered to do it yourself, but he insisted, claiming it was the least he could do. In truth, it was all very…transactional. 

This felt different. The hesitation he so often held, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop, was gone. His touch was gentle, his expression focused and his body oddly relaxed. It didn’t feel like an obligation, but an act of kindness, one he was more than willing to give. 

Any nerves that remained slipped away.  You could find a way to live with this. Certainly it was more than others had given you in the past. 

Once he was done, he pulled fresh bandages from his bag and began redressing your wounds with decidedly more precision than you had. 

“I am glad you’re here,” he said, breaking the silence. “I was hoping we could talk.”

A sharp sting of anxiety pressed itself into your skin. 

“Oh?” 

He nodded, tying off the bandage. “I think it’s important.”

You swallowed. The instinct to run pulled at your feet, but you managed to keep it in check. You owed him that much. 

“Well, I’m here so…let’s talk.”

He breathed out an audible sigh of relief, raising his hands up as he took a small step back.

“Just stand there a moment. Don’t move.”

He spun around, rummaging through various bags before letting out a cry of triumph. He stepped back holding what looked to be a violin string glowing with magical golden light. 

Your head tilted to the side as your eyes narrowed. “Is that…?”

“Part of the violin, yes,” he admitted. “Bit of a story. Short version, Gale was able to extract one of the strings. It shouldn’t cause any permanent damage to the instrument, as far as I know.” 

You raised a doubtful eyebrow. “And Gale just let you pluck this from his tent did he?”

Astarion shifted uncomfortably. “Not exactly. I, ah, may have had some trouble understanding how it worked and…inquired as to his assistance.”

“You asked Gale for help?” you asked, astonished.

“Don’t make me relive the experience,” he lamented. “He told me the strings themselves have different magical properties in order to create the effect you demonstrated the other night. Apparently this one alone compels people to tell the truth.” 

He then took the string and carefully wrapped it around his wrist before handing the other half to you. 

Your eyes widened, glancing between him and the offered cord. “What are you doing?”

“Leveling the playing field,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You shook your head, taking a step back. “You don’t have to do that.”

His lips curved into a self deprecating smile. “I think I do though. I haven’t been honest with you and…while that’s not exactly unique to you, the regret I have is. So you see, it really is a selfish action. If I’m to be free of this, I need to know for certain you understand that what I say next is the truth…all of it.” 

Your mouth opened to protest, but the words caught in your throat. The expression on his face was one you had never seen before. While he did his best to hide under his usual indifferent airs, his eyes gave him away. You’d never seen them so open and unsure. 

Slowly, you took the other end, feeling a familiar tingle spread through your fingers. 

“Alright,” you said, cautiously. “What’s your favorite color?”

Flashes of red shot across your vision, moonlit skies and a pair of eyes you only just caught to be your own before the image settled on something else entirely.

“Pink,” Astarion blurted.

Your eyebrows shot up as the start of a delighted smile spread across your face.

 “And orange,” he amended quickly, “and dark blue and…honestly just the color of the sky at sunrise.” He pouted as if annoyed at the words that escaped his lips, but he shook it off. “Alright, you had your little test run. Give me something harder.” 

You considered a moment. It was very tempting to continue on with some more embarrassing questions, but that wasn’t the purpose of all of this. Best to start at the beginning. 

“What did you think of me when we first met?” you asked.

He grimaced, guilt evident not just through his averted gaze but the tug of the string between you. “You were a target,” he admitted. “At best a convenient meat shield. You were just so…open, ready to trust. Manipulating you would be easy.”

You took a deep breath, ignoring the stab of pain between your ribs. You should have expected as much. He wasn’t exactly subtle. 

“And that’s what you were trying to do the other night, manipulate me?”

“Yes.”

Another stab of guilt, a flash of your own back walking out of a candle lit room as a hand that was not your own reached hopelessly outward. 

Your actual jaw clenched. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity.”

“Then what?!” you snapped. “Hells bells Astarion, do you even like me?”

“You drive me to acts of insanity,” he said indignantly, raising up the glowing cord around his wrist as proof. “Do you think I’d willing subject myself to days of Gale’s passive aggressive commentary on my personal life for just anyone? Of course I like you. Gods below!”

You stared, unable to deny the waves of exasperation mixed with the sound of your own laughter as heard through another’s ears. Something warm and unfamiliar bloomed in the chest of the body opposite you making your mind spin, as you tried to re-establish the divide. 

“Why did you ask me to come to you?” you asked. “What were you hoping to gain?”

Astarion took a deep breath. It was only then you noticed how tightly he was holding the chord linking you.

“I was hoping to get back on track,” he said, slowly. “I had a plan when we met. A nice simple plan. Seduce you, bed you, manipulate your emotions so you’d never turn on me. It was easy…instinctive.” 

He met your eyes and for the first time, you felt him fight against the images threatening to breach the gap between you. You caught the barest flashes, memories of half forgotten faces passing by one after another. Shame and vile brushed the edges of your mind, and quickly faded as Astarion regained control. 

“But, you seemed immune to my attempts,” he continued. “I could tell you enjoyed my attentions, but you never asked for more. My simple plan that had worked on countless targets, couldn’t get off the ground. And yet, you still gave me blood, protection…trust. I couldn’t understand it. I found myself wanting to know more, to know you. To anticipate what you would ultimately ask in exchange. And then that night, you showed me exactly what it was you desired.”

Something slipped through. You saw yourself in the center of the tavern with darkness surrounding you. A rise of fear entered your heart as you heard your name called from familiar lips. And then, the world shifted, light came back into the world and it was…beautiful. 

“I thought I finally understood you,” he said. “A poor repressed urchin who had been hurt one too many times. All that was required was a more gentle touch. I could provide that. It wouldn’t be the first time.” 

He paused, his expression softening. “And then you had to do the most inconsiderate thing and surprise me all over again: you asked for my heart, in exchange for yours. I should have been elated. It meant my plan had worked, not the way I intended, but you had fallen for it…for me. The trouble was, I hadn’t accounted for the possibility that I would fall for you.”

You stared, unable to say anything as a well of emotion threatened to burst from you. It was as if someone pulled a bow across your chest, creating a resonating sound that moved in harmony with your very soul. 

It was true, all of it. 

By some miracle, you wrestled back control over your lungs and tongue. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“I didn’t know how,” he admitted. “Even if I had, would you have believed me?”

You averted your gaze. It was answer enough. 

“It’s alright,” he said, offering a wry smile. “Smart really. I wouldn’t have believed me either.” 

You nodded in appreciation, your mind still reeling from everything he had just confessed. 

“What are you thinking?” he asked. 

You frowned, unable to shake a question that had been stirring for some time. 

“Do you even want to have sex with me?”

His eyebrows shot into his hairline, his mouth falling open. “I’m standing here baring my soul to you and that’s what you ask?”

“You asked me what I was thinking,” you defended. “Besides, it’s a relevant question.” 

He looked like he wanted to argue, but let it go just as quickly with a huff. 

“Well?” you prompted. 

He made a series of non-commital noises, his mouth half forming words before being wrenched in another direction. The chord between you glowed brighter, twisting just a little deeper into his skin.

“I…don’t really know,” he said, slightly stilted, as if surprised by his own answer. “To be clear, I do find you physically enticing. In that aspect at least, I’d hardly qualify bedding you a chore, but... I spent two centuries using lust and desire to lure people back to him. In that time I developed the habit of taking myself out of my body, looking at it as if it were happening to somebody else.  Even in those rare times it could be pleasurable, I still walked away feeling nothing but disgust and loathing. I don’t want those feelings associated with you. At the same time, I can’t help thinking that if we were together, it would be different. But, don’t take that to mean I expect it. Like I said, I don’t even know if I want it. Honestly, before you said it, I didn’t know saying no was an option.”

You took all of that in, your heart clenching as the full weight of what Cazador did to him settled on your mind.  Red filed your vision, the sympathetic ache replaced with a rush of fury.  He was a dead man. One way or another, you would see Cazador bloodied by the end of all of this. But as quickly as it had come you let the emotion pass. This wasn’t about him.  You wouldn’t let him intrude any more on this moment. 

“What do you want from me then?” you asked, softly. 

To your relief, something familiar and teasing flashed across his face. 

“I thought I’d made that obvious.”

With his free hand, he cupped your cheek allowing his thumb to lightly caress your skin. His scarlet eyes burned not with lust, but something warmer and just as desperate. 

“You showed me the chorus of your heart. How could anyone look upon that and not desire it? The trouble is, the price you asked. I…I don’t know how to pay it. I don’t know how to be with someone that way, but I’m willing to learn. I want it all. I want you to have it all.” 

The connection between you burned hot in your hand, but you couldn’t let it go. It felt so warm, so real. It filled every empty part of you to the point of bursting and still you wanted more. You were insatiable. 

Astarion looked just as lost as you, his eyes glazed over with too many emotions for you to name. His body began to tremble. It was becoming too much. 

In an instant you pulled his hand away, unwrapping the chord from around his wrist and tossing it aside.

He took a sudden deep breath as if coming up for air after being submerged in deep water. 

“Shit,” he cursed, gulping for air. Closing his eyes, he ran a hand down his face as he tried to calm. 

Your eyes widened as you caught the angry marks left behind on his wrist. 

“Are you alright?”

He blinked hard as if clearing spots from his vision. “I’m fine. Wasn’t expecting that is all.” He turned his focus to you with a bewildered expression. “Does it always feel like that?”

“That’s admittedly a first for me,” you confessed. You reached out your hand, glancing at his injury. “Let me see.”

He followed your gaze frowning, as if surprised to note the welts forming on his wrist. Still he stepped closer allowing you to examine them without protest. 

“Does it hurt?” you asked. 

He shook his head. “Sort of numb, honestly, tingly.”

You nodded, swallowing hard to keep the rise of guilt and fear at bay. It didn’t help. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, quickly. 

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t think a little thing like this is going to scare me off. I meant what I said. I intend to give you your fill.”

“You don’t have to give it all at once,” you promised. “I can be patient when it counts.” 

A sly smile turned at his lips. “I almost hope you won’t. You’re not the only one who's starving.”

Heat spread up your neck, something Astarion undoubtedly caught as he gave a low laugh. 

“Well, now that we’ve cleared the air, what happens next?” he asked. 

“I’m…not sure,” you admitted. “Nobody else has ever given me the chance to figure that out.” 

He nodded slowly, before taking a small step back. His head tilted as if to examine you from every angle. A question started to form on your tongue just as the start of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He suddenly straightened before placing a hand on his chest and regarded you with a deep bow. 

You grinned, matching him with a curtsy of your own. 

He then offered his hand, which you easily took before he pulled you just a little closer. Your other hand found his shoulder while his pressed lightly on your waist. And then you did what was only natural. You danced. 

It wasn’t anything elaborate. There was no fire or sparks of magic. You simply moved together to a song of your own imagination. It stirred in your chest, the barest pluck of a melody, but it was yours and his; the promise of a symphony to come.

Tag List:

@ambrolyer, @cassiecasluciluce, @tamwritesstuff, @hallowedandhungry, @mangomonk, @amefuyuu, @righteous-scamp, @starved-kitten, @tinystarfishgalaxy, @twinkliker3000, @unrestrictedbyreality, @screechingphantommaker, @becksynthetic, @black-sapphic, @dicenete, @isharaneith, @sarcasticlittlebook, @catsandskyrimcafe, @sora-o-kaku, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ka-du-trur, @baldursgateslittlestar, @rakilein

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #asexual #asexual!reader #asexual!tav #bard!tav #baldur's gate iii #astarion x ace!tav #astarion x evie

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

Listen hear me out you're with older eddie and everyone just assumes he's very rough and dominant but really he likes it when you slap his face and spit on him he practically begs for it while you ride him

Oh, I'm listening 😌 ya know anon you sound exactly like one of my besties...suspish🤨

Sub!Older!Eddie munson x fem!reader

I'm so sorry, btw this was also kind of rushed, so I hope you enjoy it. 18+ no minors

You don't know why everyone was a little intimated by your boyfriend. Maybe it was his choice of clothing or music. Maybe it was the faded scar on his eyebrow from a bar fight. Maybe it's because his face always had a scowl, and he never seemed to crack a smile until you're around.

Everyone in town seems to think he's this mean and rough person, but that's the farthest thing from the truth. Eddie's not like what the others would describe him to be. He's soft-spoken, gentle, and incredibly smart.

They also would assume he dominated you in the bedroom as well. You heard the gossip around town, and the little comments made your way as you passed by. Mainly from men with nothing better to do. Truth be told, it's the complete opposite for you both. If they only knew he is practically on his knees every night begging you to degrade him.

Eddie was a dominant person in every aspect of his life except when it came to sex. That's when he let you have complete control and use him, however you wanted. Even if that meant only getting yourself off and leaving him to finish the rest himself.

He loved it when you mock him if cums too early. He wants to be overestimulated to the point where it's becoming painful. He wants you to spit on him and cuff him to his bed. He loved it when you collar him and used your paddle.

At the beginning of the relationship, your sex life was amazing, but you always felt like he wasn't satisfied enough. You could tell he wanted to confess something but was too afraid. Then, one day, he blurted it right out. You didn't know if he meant to say it or if he was just too caught up in the moment.

"Slap me." He grunts out causing you to pause for a moment as you're bounced on his cock. You wondered if you heard him correctly at first until he said it again. His voice came out strained and desperate. His eyes look up into yours, pleading for you to do it.

You hesitated just at first, not knowing how hard you should slap him. You pulled your hand back and gave his cheek a firm light tap. The slap wasn't hard, but it was enough to leave his cheek a little pink.

"Y-yeah, again, just a little harder, baby, please." He bites down on his lower lip and thrusts upwards allowing his cock to hit that sweet spot on your walls. He thrusted up again harder, squeezing your hips tighter when he feels the sting of your hand against his face.

He feels like he could cum right now having you fulfill a fantasy he's kept to himself for so long. A small whimper left his mouth when he felt you clench around him. You both were breathing heavy in eachothers face, mouths parted slightly.

You never thought you would be into something like this. Seeing Eddie a complete mess underneath of made you wish he'd ask to do this much sooner. There was still some guilt on your part. What if you end up hurting him?

"Eddie, I don't want to hurt you." You confessed pausing your movements once more.

"It's okay if it's too much, and I want you to stop. I'll just shout Ozzy or some shit. " He insisted desperately.

You shook your head, "Okay, promise me you will?"

"I promise, sweetheart." He reassured, patting your thighs for you to continue riding him.

He laid back against his pillow with a big grin plastered on his face. You giggle a little as you proceeded to move up and down on his cock. Eddie helped by gripping your hips and lifting you up and back down on his hard length. His fingers dug firmly into your plush skin.

"Fuck, slap me again." He whined.

You tried to gain your composure long enough to do as he asked. His cock hitting deeper inside you making it hard to focus. Your thighs begin to tremble and burn. You pull your hand back again, slapping him right across his cheek. He threw his head to the side, moaning in response as tears leaked from the corner of his eyes.

He looks back up at you in awe as you move up and down on his hard length. His cheeks an angry shade of red now. The same cheeks you like to pepper with kisses early in the mornings before work. You can't deny you don't love this. That having him at your complete mercy didn't turn you on more.

It didn't take long before he was cuming deep inside you. As a matter of fact, he had been trying to his best to hold it when you began slapping him the first few times. He ended up cuming before you, which embarrassed him a little.

Eddie felt bad for doing so, especially after you indulged in his secret fantasy. You decided quickly as a punishment to try to make him cum as many times as he could. You wanted him sore but begging you not to stop. You had him filling you up with cum over and over again. Turning him into nothing but a whimpering mess as he came for the fourth time.

After that night, you both quickly moved on from slapping to cuffing him to his headboard. Eddie would asked to be blind folded and gagged while a vibrator was strapped to his cock. He wanted to be called names.

You'd make him cum over and over until he had tears streaming down his face. Until his mind would go all foggy and he couldn't put together a cohesive sentence. His cock being so sore afterwards that even the cool air would cause him to wince a little.

What you both loved to the most was how close this brought the two of you together. You loved taking care of him and washing his hair. Making sure he was okay and if he needed anything. He always just wanted to cuddle afterward. Which you happily obliged every single time until he was softly snoring in your ear.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #my writing #older eddie munson #older!eddie #sub!eddie #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader

[melzula]

Break Apart

pairing: Zuko x princess!reader

notes: i know i’ve said previously that i don’t like going backwards with fire lilies but i feel like i didn’t do this scene justice the first time so i decided to rework the piece. plus i think revisiting this scene will be important before starting smoke and shadow

summary: your peaceful life with Zuko comes crashing down in the crystal catacombs of Ba Sing Se.

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

You pull the shutters apart and let the sun shine through your new home in Ba Sing Se. The morning is just getting started, and as Iroh begins fixing breakfast for your little family you take it upon yourself to begin the day’s chores before it’s time to head to work. It’s been a long week, what with Zuko’s sickness and the hassle of moving into the Upper Ring, and you’re beginning to feel worn out from the emotional turmoil, but you do your best to keep these feelings to yourself in order to not ruin Iroh’s excitement for the opening of his tea shop. At least one of you gets to live out the life you dreamed for yourself in the city.

You eventually end up outside hanging the freshly washed clothes to dry, brows furrowed in thought as you pin the fabrics to the clothesline and hum a song Iroh used to perform for you during your day’s on Zuko’s ship. You’re too engrossed in your work to notice you have company, and it isn’t until you hear someone gently clear their throat that you turn to see Zuko standing before you with a smile on his face and two bowls of pongi in his hands.

“You’re up early,” you note with a raised brow before accepting his offering of breakfast.

“I wanted to have breakfast with you,” he says with a gentle smile as the two of you seat yourselves on the steps of your apartment. “It’s a beautiful day out, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I suppose,” you reply carefully, unused to his positive demeanor. “You’re not still feeling sick, are you?”

He laughs at the way you press the back of your hand to his forehead and feel for his temperature before carefully lowering it down. “I feel better than I ever have before. I’m really starting to like it here, and I wish I could have realized sooner how peaceful life is with you in Ba Sing Se.”

“Uncle was right, you really have undergone a metamorphosis,” you note, half teasing and half serious as you take a bite of your pongi. “But I’m happy you’re finally deciding to give the city a chance, my love.”

“It’s something I should have done sooner, and I plan to make up for all the time I wasted being miserable instead of enjoying my new life with you. I love you, y/n, and I’m going to make things right for us.”

You’re pleasantly caught off guard by the sweet kiss Zuko gives you after tenderly cupping your face in his hands and pulling you forward to meet his lips. You easily melt at his touch like you always do, and for a moment you’re able to forget all the hurt and insecurity you’ve felt for the last few years. Your relationship had suffered a few rough patches recently, and you worried that you’d never be enough for Zuko no matter how hard you tried, but it seemed that things were finally beginning to fall into place, and you could live the life you’d always dreamed of since running away with Zuko.

Finally parting from the kiss, he gifts you a sweet kunik before pulling away and taking your empty bowl of pongi with him. “I have to start getting ready for the grand opening of the Jasmine Dragon. You’ll be there, won’t you?”

“Of course. Miss Tai is letting me leave my shift early today so I can be there,” you assure him with a smile. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“I love you,” Zuko utters earnestly in response, “and I’m happy you’re still here with me.”

You longingly watch his form retreat inside, already beginning to miss his touch. But you have work to do before your shift at the dress shop, so you rise from your seat on the steps and resume hanging the laundry to dry.

Life is going to be perfect now, you can feel it.

~~~

The opening of the Jasmine Dragon was a success, so successful, in fact, that the Earth King himself has invited Iroh to serve tea in the palace.

The Earth Kingdom palace is certainly different from the palace you grew up in, and though you yourself are technically royalty you feel as if you don’t belong in such a grand space. The dress Miss Tai had loaned you and the way she had styled your hair for you at least makes you look the part, and you make sure to be on your best behavior as you wait with Iroh and Zuko for the king to arrive.

You neatly set out the cups as Iroh begins pouring the tea with a pleased smile on his face while a restless Zuko surveys the room for any sign of the king.

“What’s taking so long?”

“Maybe the king overslept,” Iroh suggests, prompting you to raise your brow at his unlikely explanation.

“He’s a busy man, Zuko. I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” you assure him, but the former Prince isn’t convinced so easily. The sudden appearance of Dai Li agents only furthers his apprehension as they begin to close in on your little trio.

“Something’s not right,” he utters anxiously, and as your gaze falls upon the shifty eyes of the agents before you you find yourself slowly pulling the tea pot towards you in preparation for bending.

“It’s tea time,” a familiar voice chimes prompting Zuko to immediately rise to his feet. The mere sight of the Princess is enough to prompt you to bend the tea out of the pot, and though it isn’t much you’re able to close your fists and produce small blades of water that shoot sharply from your palms. It’s a move you’ve seen Zuko perform countless times with fire, and it’s a move that you’ve managed to perfect just as easily with water.

“Azula!” He scowls only for her to smirk in response.

“Have you met the Dai Li agents yet? They’re earth benders, but they have a killer instinct that’s so fire bender. I just love it,” she punctuates with a clenched fist before her eyes shift to your makeshift water daggers. “I see that’s something you’re trying to mimic, Princess. Such a cute little trick.”

“It isn’t so hard,” you reply with a relaxed shrug much to Azula’s dismay.

“But of course,” she sneers disapprovingly at your lack of fear for her.

Breaking the silence, Iroh suddenly says, “Did I ever tell you how I got the nickname the Dragon of the West?”

“I’m not interested in a lengthy anecdote, Uncle,” she scoffs with a bored expression, but Iroh merely smiles.

“It’s more of a demonstration, really,” he explains before taking a sip from his cup of tea. Before you can even process what’s happening, the man quickly pulls both you and Zuko behind him before exhaling a breath of fire around the room. With the Dai Li temporarily disabled, you’re able to make your escape out of the palace.

Using a blast of lightning to break through the walls, both Iroh and yourself make the jump through the hole and land down below in the the shrubbery. However, Zuko doesn’t follow behind, and instead you’re forced to watch him chase after Azula.

“We have to help him!” You cry only for Iroh to stop you.

“Even with our abilities combined we will not be able to outmatch both Azula and the Dai Li agents on our own,” he utters carefully.

“Then what are we to do? We can’t just leave him behind,” you express worriedly. You have no idea what Azula has in store for her brother, and you don’t want to leave Zuko in her clutches long enough to find out. You know Iroh’s right, but you can’t just sit and do nothing.

“We’ll have to get help,” Iroh notes thoughtfully, and you’re left with no choice but to blindly follow the man as he begins to head back towards the city.

“Help from who?”

~~~~

It’s safe to say Iroh and yourself are the last two people the Avatar and his friends expected to see at their doorstep, but you’re not left with many other options.

“Princess?!” Sokka exclaims in surprise at the sight of you as you gift him a meager wave of hello in return. The last time you’d seen each other had been during the siege of the North, so it was safe to say he was more than surprised to see you here in Ba Sing Se. “What’s going on? Have you finally come to your senses and decided to leave Zuko?”

“What? No!” You cry indignantly much to the boy’s disappointment. “It’s the opposite, actually. We came to ask for your help.”

“Princess Azula is here in Ba Sing Se,” Iroh explains gravely.

“She must have Katara!”

“She has captured my nephew, as well.”

“Then we’ll work together to fight Azula,” the Avatar expressed firmly, “and save Zuko and Katara.”

“Whoa, there,” Sokka interjects immediately. “You lost me at ‘Zuko.’”

“I know how you must feel about my nephew, but believe me when I tell you there is good in him,” Iroh insists earnestly, but Sokka doesn’t budge.

“Good inside him isn’t enough!” He insists. “Why don’t you come back when it’s outside him, too, okay?”

“Sokka,” you call gently, eyes full of sincerity and a hint of guilt as the Water Tribe boy meets your gaze. “Please understand. We just want him back safe. I need him back safe. I know Zuko has done horrible things to you and your friends, things I don’t expect you to forgive, but we don’t stand a chance against Azula and the Dai Li on our own.”

“Katara is in trouble,” Aang reiterates to a contemplative Sokka, your words swimming in his thoughts. The mere look of sadness on your face is almost enough to make him cave in, but not quite. “All of Ba Sing Se is in trouble. Working together is our best chance.”

After a moment’s pause, Sokka finally relents. Relief immediately washes over you now that you know the Avatar and his friends are going to help you get Zuko back. “Thank you, Aang. Your kindness means more than you know.”

“I’m just returning the favor,” the boy says with a sheepish smile, prompting you to recall fondly your first meeting with him on Zuko’s ship long ago.

With the Avatar’s help, you stand a chance now, and as your group heads to the crystal catacombs you once again feel that sense of hope grow in your heart.

Once this little bump in the road is over, you can resume your perfect life with Zuko, all you need to do is just get through the day.

And you will.

~~~

You journey underground with Iroh and the Avatar to the crystal catacombs, tuning out their conversation as your mind reels over your worry for Zuko. It figures that after having such a perfect day the universe would throw something like this at you. But that’s just the way your relationship was, and anytime a hurdle had been cast your way you’d always been able to overcome it. This time would be no different.

After finally arriving in the crystal cave, you’re quick to lift the skirt of your dress and sprint towards Zuko before flinging yourself into his arms.

“You’re okay!” You exclaim, voice coated with relief.

“What are you doing traveling with the Avatar?” He asks, almost as if he’s insulted by Aang’s mere presence.

“Saving you, that’s what,” Aang replies testily, prompting Zuko to lunge forward only for Iroh to hold him back.

“We wouldn’t have been able to find you without him,” you explain truthfully. “Please don’t be upset.”

Zuko had never really gotten over your little stunt back on his ship when you’d helped the Avatar escape, so seeing you by Aang’s side again felt like rubbing salt in the Prince’s wound. He was trying to be better for you, but the conflict within him still remained.

“Zuko, it’s time we talked,” Iroh says before encouraging Katara and Aang to move ahead without your group.

“Why, Uncle?” Zuko asks softly, hurt clear in his voice. Your gentle eyes meet his own and he looks away in shame, unable to return your gaze. He knows he’s disappointed you too many times to count, but he’s not sure how much longer he can keep up this charade of pretending to be happy in this dirt prison you now call home. He doesn’t want to admit this to you, but the conflict within him continues to fester.

“You are not the man you used to be, Zuko. You are stronger and wiser and freer than you have ever been,” Iroh says proudly. “And now you have come to the crossroads of your destiny. It is time for you to choose. It is time for you to choose good.”

A hopeful smile plays upon your lips at Iroh’s words, but it is quickly wiped away by the sudden rumbling of the cave. Before you can even process what’s happening, Iroh and yourself are encased in crystal.

“Y/n!” Zuko exclaims, but he isn’t left with time to free you once Azula appears with the Dai Li at her side.

“I expected this kind of treachery from Uncle and your little girlfriend,” she says sharply, “but Zuko, Prince Zuko, you’re a lot of things, but you’re not a traitor, are you?”

“Release them immediately!” He demands firmly, his hardest gaze focused on Azula. The crystals dig uncomfortably into your sides and pin your limbs in cramped positions, but you have enough movement in your wrists to bend should you need to.

“Are you sure? I think the crystals are quite flattering on y/n, don’t you?” Azula goads playfully to an unamused Zuko.

As his sister tries to fill his head with promises of redemption and honor in exchange for his help, and as Iroh tries to persuade him in the right direction, you focus your attention on looking for any source of water to help you. Your eyes land on a trickle of water that drops from the roof, but you don’t make your move until Azula has left the room.

“Zuko, you have to help Aang and Katara. If Azula and the Dai Li catch up to them they won’t be able to fight them off on their own,” you express urgently as you use your free hands to pull the droplets of water towards you. “Iroh and I will be right behind you.”

You’re too engrossed in your escape plan at first to notice that Zuko doesn’t budge, but when you lift your gaze to see he hasn’t moved at all a frown quickly pulls at your lips. “Zuko?”

A sense of dread washes over you at his lack of response, and for a moment you fear that perhaps Azula had gotten to him, but then he finally moves to meets your gaze. The green crystals of the catacombs reflect beautifully in your tired eyes, and Zuko can’t help but try to commit the scene to his memory. It will probably be the last good one he’ll be able to keep of you.

He finally gives you a silent nod in response, but not before urging you to stay behind.

“You’ll be safer here,” he says, and he doesn’t give you a chance to argue as he runs off in search of Aang, leaving Iroh and yourself behind.

After gathering enough water, you cover the crystal in ice until the intense cold prompts it to crack, and with a firm flick of your wrists the ice and crystal shatter so that you are finally free from the trap. You move to do the same for Iroh, but he quickly shakes his head to stop you.

“You must go and help the Avatar. I will catch up with you shortly,” he assures you. “There isn’t time to waste.”

You give him a firm nod before rushing after Zuko, hoping you’re not too late to offer your help. The crystals had ripped through the skirt of your dress, and though you felt guilty for ruining the clothes Miss Tai had lent you, you’re grateful for the range of motion the tattered fabric now gives you. Hopefully Zuko won’t be too mad at you for disobeying his request.

The commotion in the catacombs has you pushing yourself to run faster, but when you finally reach your destination you’re quick to skid to a stop at the sight before you.

Katara has Azula in her grasp, and it’s clear that the Fire Princess is at a disadvantage. Zuko’s back is turned to you, and at first it looks as if he’s about to help the water bender. But when his blast of flames cuts through her water arms and frees his sister you’re left with a dreadful conclusion.

Your heart sinks to your stomach as you realize Zuko hadn’t come here to help the Avatar- he’d come to defeat him.

“Zuko…” you utter softly, your features riddled with heartbreak and disappointment as he finally turns to look at you after hearing the sound of your voice. The eyes of the boy that stare coldly at you now are not the same ones that once used to look upon you with nothing but love and adoration.

There is no remorse or guilt on his features, but there is anger and resentment. He’s never looked upon you this way, fury blazing along his irises as if you’re the enemy, as if he hated you.

“How kind of you to join us, Princess,” Azula calls with a taunting smile. You swallow harshly and stand frozen in place, too in shock to move. But then she gestures to Zuko, and a sickness settles in your stomach as he slowly begins to approach you.

“Zuko, stop. This isn’t you,” you beg desperately, cowering away from his menacing figure. “Please, don’t do this.“

“This is me,” he says gravely. “You just didn’t want to see it.”

You can’t help but let out a scream as he shoots a blast of fire towards you, and you’re barely quick enough to form a wall of water to block his attack. His moves are relentless, but no matter how many times he strikes you don’t dare fight back. Your moves are defensive, for even though he’s turned against you, you can’t bring yourself to hurt him.

“I don’t want to fight you!” You insist, narrowly missing the fire he whips at you.

“Are you sure about that?” He retorts harshly, eyes hard-set on the water swirling in your palms. “You’re afraid of me, you always have been. You think I’m a monster!”

“That’s not true!” You cry desperately as you block another attack.

“You only stayed by my side to try and fix me so you could feel better about yourself. You’re no different than the rest of your people.”

“Zuko,” you gasp in disbelief. “How can you say that?! I love you!”

“You’re just a spoiled little Princess who thinks being a water bender makes her special.”

“Stop it. That’s Azula talking, not you.”

“You left your people to fulfill your own childish dreams of love. What a joke,” he scoffs harshly before hitting you with another blast of flames. “You’re selfish! You’re weak! You’re-“

You don’t want to hear anymore. It’s as if he has your heart in his hands, squeezing it apart with each insult he throws your way. Your Zuko is gone.

He isn’t able to finish his assault as the tsunami like wave of water you send his way sweeps him off his feet and throws him across the catacomb. The water roars deafeningly in your ears, drowning out the sound of the anguished sobs that wrack your body as you finally turning your bending on the one you love.

The rest of the fight seems to be a blur as you do your best to hold off Dai Li agents, but once Azula shoots Aang down with a blast of lighting it’s clear that the battle is lost. The fire siblings are beginning to close in on your group, and in a last ditch effort you find yourself standing protectively in front of Katara and Aang ready to fight for as long as you can. However, you find you don’t need to when Iroh swoops in and saves your group.

“You’ve got to get out of here. I’ll hold them off for as long as I can!” He insists before blocking the Dai Li from reaching you.

You hesitate in your tracks, unsure about leaving behind the man who had become family. As if reading your thoughts, he gives you a firm nod of encouragement. “Go, Princess.”

Swallowing harshly, you urge Katara to her feet and guide her to the waterfall. As she holds Aang’s limp body securely in her grasp, you use your bending to reverse the flow of the water so that it sends your trio upwards. Tears stream steadily down your face, but your gaze remains firm and set straight ahead.

Your relationship with Zuko is over.

~~~

The tide is calm as the Fire Nation ship sails towards the Capital City. After three long years, Zuko is finally returning home. It’s all he’s ever wanted, but for some reason it feels as if something is still missing. There’s a relentless ache in his chest that won’t leave him be, and he can do nothing but stare contemplatively out at the water.

“You seriously can’t still be worried about finally coming home,” a voice calls playfully as cold hands rest upon his tense shoulders. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, you’re practically a hero now.”

“I know that,” Zuko snaps irritably. Mai simply rolls her eyes in response.

“Then what is it?” She retorts only to be met with silence. Her eyes harden suddenly, and she yanks her hands away from him as if revolted by the Prince. “Don’t tell me you’re still hung up on that water Princess.”

“Of course not.”

“Sure,” Mai replies flatly, obviously unconvinced. “You don’t need her, Zuko.”

“I know that! She was just a distraction,” he tells her, trying to convince not only Mai but himself of it. “She never really meant anything to me.”

“I wish I could say I feel sorry for her,” Mai says unsympathetically with a bored wave of her hand, “but she must have been an idiot to expect you to live the rest of your life as a peasant.”

“Yeah…” Zuko murmurs quietly, remembering the way your eyes hard sparkled in the catacombs. They shined brighter when they were full of tears, and the image haunted him.

He’s pulled away from his thoughts by Mai’s hands gently guiding his face towards her own. A rare smile plays upon her lips as she pulls him in for a kiss. Zuko returns the gesture, but it’s empty.

He feels absolutely nothing.

~~~

Sokka is hesitant to approach you, unsure if his presence will make things worse for your emotional state. The tears haven’t stopped since you escaped from Ba Sing Se, but he feels awful just sitting there without attempting to comfort you. He never really understood just how someone like you could love Zuko or why you were ever with him in the first place, but all of it meant something to you, and he couldn’t ignore that.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asks gently, well aware of how stupid the question is. Obviously you aren’t, but he isn’t sure what else to say.

“I should have known I’d never be enough for him,” you weep miserably. “I was foolish to think he would ever put me before his need to restore his honor and please his father. How could I have been so naive?!”

“It’s not your fault,” the water tribe boy consoles while placing a comforting hand on your trembling shoulder. “It isn’t naive to want to see the good in people. You tried to find it in Zuko, but it just wasn’t there.”

“I gave up everything for him,” you murmur dully, exhaustion and defeat clear in your features. “And now I have nothing.”

“You have us,” Sokka corrects you with a careful smile. “Trust me, you’re better off without that jerk.”

You carefully wipe away your tears and give Sokka a meek smile in return for his kind words. “Thank you, Sokka. I’m more than grateful for your compassion. I promise to do all I can to help you and your friends defeat the Fire Lord.”

After all this time, after all the hurt and the guilt, all the running and the hiding, you’ve finally left Zuko. And you don’t intend to ever look back.

| atla tags: @sirkekselord @chronic-daydreamer-blog @niktwazny303

| zuko tags: @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @taeeemin

| fire lilies tags: @titaniafire @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @xapham @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal @chilifrylizard2 @kyomihann @kaylove12 @kiwihoee @freggietale @noodlesfluffy @moon-spirit-yue @bubblegum-bee-otch

#fire lilies #zuko #atla #zuko x reader #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko #zuko x princess!reader #atla x reader #prince zuko imagine #zuko imagine

[sashi-ya]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟑 DAY 17: SOMNO Portgas D. Ace 𝘹 F! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Requested by: anon ➡ Hi! How have you been? I would like to ask for a day in the kinktober event 💞 Day 17 with Ace from One piece with a fem!reader, please 🙏🏻  Have a great day! And take small breaks, I know these events are tiring but I hope you have fun! 💞 tw: mdni. SOMNOPHILIA. very triggering to some, please stay away if is not ok with you. it is, however, CONSENTED and ASKED by reader. Though, I know is a very sensitive topic so please proceed with caution, it is written so that reader gets "surprised" by Ace after having a talk about her having such fantasy. thigh fucking. vag sex. wc: 1k masterlist

“Is there anything you like… you know… during sex that you haven’t told me yet?” Ace asked, during breakfast. You choke with a donut and then looked at him. You weren’t surprised nor scandalized, but it was weird to listen to your boyfriend ask such question at seven in the morning.

“Why you ask?” you inquire him, after taking a sip of your coffee.

“Because I am your boyfriend and… because you forgot to clean your browsing history of my laptop…” he scoffs, remembering you that he lend you his laptop because yours died a few days ago.

Your eyes widen… “What did you see?” you ask, flustered. How could you forget?

“Well… if it was normal that you want your boyfriend to fuck you while asleep…”

“Oh Jesus, Ace… I... ”

That day passed quickly enough for you to wish it didn’t. Work was over, and while you drove home, you definitely tried to convince yourself that Ace had forgotten. “I just pray he is just like his brother Sabo and indulge in that sweet amnesia of his”

But Ace could forget to clean the dishes, to buy toilet paper or even his own head if it was detachable… yet, never, ever the things that have to do with your pleasure.

He didn’t say much during dinner. It was like a normal night, and no “somnophilia” matters were mentioned. So, you breathed alleviated.

“Babe I am going to bed before you. I am tired…” you murmured, kissing his head while he played LoL with Luffy and Sabo

“Sure love, sleep well… I’ll be there after I beat their asses a couple of times”  he laughed, and while you walked away you could hear the insults of his brothers on his headphones.

Soon, and after your head hit the pillow, your eyes closed. The world of dreams engulfed in their magical arms and drifted away through its lands.

And then, something warm felt in between your thighs…

Ace slipped in bed; your ass looked way more interesting that it always did to him. Your body half covered by the sheets that promised to be tangled yet another night.

He came closer to you, grazing your buttocks with his crotch and nuzzling on your nape with total delicacy. His hand slid from your waist to your lower belly, enjoying the rhythm of your breathing cycles.

He usually wakes you up when he is hard, but tonight he wished to indulge in your dreams… your hotter and wetter dreams.

The idea of fucking you without permission floated around Ace’s mind before too. He didn’t want to keep thinking about it, he felt it by far illegal and gross… but still, his instincts, the precum sprouting from his tip and dampening his boxers, the way his hips moved on their own were screaming loudly “fuck her while asleep… use her body until you are satisfied… she wants it”

Ace’s lips reached for the crook of your neck, placing the softest peck on your skin. Perhaps his intention was to wake you up, but not really… after all, he knew that would happen sooner or later, as he lowered his sport shorts down and let his sex free.

When his tip grazed the back part of your thighs, he squirmed. Your skin felt warm enough, like fire engulfing his sex and then all of his body. His freckled cheeks become red, and his teeth began to chatter… should he touch you? Or should he slide his dick in between your thighs?

He did then, both. Slowly, softly, measuring everything with your asleep sighs… Ace needed to play it safe, for you to feel pleasure but not enough to wake up.

His fingers trespassed the boundaries of your shorts and then your panties, encountering in between your slit a sticky mess. You were clearly turned on, thinking that maybe such lewd actions were taking place only in your dreams.

Ace growled loudly when his hand came out completely dampened, and he enjoyed the way invisible strings formed in between his fingers. So much he liked it, he took it to his lips and swallowed the salty delight your core produced for him.

Soon, he realized his dick was forcefully slipping in between your thighs and simply let it happen. It was more than warm now; it was also tight as you moved and squeezed his hardness with your legs.

By now, you were sure -even if still asleep- that the dream you were having was more than just a dream… it was him, only him… the man you chose to spend your life with who had succumbed to your inert body and your “twisted” fantasies.

And just like Ace let it happen, you did too… perhaps moving your ass up with such delicacy he didn’t notice, but still provided a better access for when he got tired of your thighs and wanted your pussy.

Ace, whose trembling limbs he needed to calm down, began moving slowly, fucking himself with your thighs, coating your skin and shorts with the product of his horniness.

And by the time he couldn’t stop himself your senses came back… and still, you kept your eyes closed… and right there you understand the bases of how attractive this kink seemed to you; Ace praised your body even while asleep, he wanted you the whole time, asleep or not. Ace needed you, Ace’s body was obsessed by the touch of your skin.

You mumbled sounds, not even words. You wanted to keep him going, you wanted Ace to keep indulging in the lowest and most impure instincts… instincts that led him to unstoppably move your panties to the side to penetrate you deeply and hard.

You couldn’t help it but moan, louder. Ace didn’t stopped, he simply lifted your leg up to come even closer to your sex. His lips grazed your neck and then your mandible line, and whispering he moaned “shh babe, keep dreaming. I just want to use that sweet hole of yours … it’s ok… good night ~ ”

taglist: @stephisokay @henrioo @shuzuiikoii @bullbonez @fengxinwifutobecalled @i-started-reading-fanfics-at12 @crimsonlikeshellsing @weebare808 @thestarwasborn @bookandyarndragon @cyberdazetragedy @uzxotic @fushiguroshotwife💖🙆‍♀️

#portgas d. ace #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace x you #portgas d. ace x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece #sashi ya #one piece x you #kinktober #one piece x reader #ace one piece #portgas d ace headcanons #ace x you #hentober #ace x reader #portgas d ace x y/n #portgas d ace #portgas d ace imagine #fire fist ace #one piece fanfiction #one piece x oc #one piece scenario #kinktober 23 #kinktober 2023

[steddiealltheway]

Part Six of Six of Meddling :( I'm so sad. Part One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Ao3 Link.

And I would once again like to dedicate this story to Cass (@henderdads). I hope it's as fluffy as you like <3

Eddie's location shows that he's back at his apartment like Robin had said. Steve isn’t sure why he thought he would be somewhere dramatic like on some random hill overlooking the city – especially since Eddie doesn’t like heights.  

So, Steve makes the quick drive over to his tiny apartment and sits in the parking lot. It’s going to be okay. It’s all going to be okay.  

They’re finally going to talk.  

Steve makes the familiar walk up to Eddie’s place and hesitates outside. There’s the loud sound of Eddie playing his electric guitar on the other side of the door. He sighs when he realizes it’s “Master of Puppets” which is his so called “battle song” whenever he’s about to face something really bad.  

Well, this isn’t good.  

Steve sits in front of the door and waits for the song to play out. He isn’t going to interrupt Eddie mid verse and piss him off any more than he already has.  

Two people end up passing him in the hall and giving him weird looks, but Steve just smiles up at them tightly and waves. He eventually closes his eyes and leans his head back against the door.  

He’s always enjoyed listening to Eddie play, but he’s never listened when he’s been the source of Eddie’s inspiration. He just wishes it was a good type of inspiration.  

As the song comes to an end, Steve tries to prepare himself to stand up and knock before Eddie starts another one. But he lingers when he hears Eddie curse under his breath and unplug his amp. He hears the muffled, “Goddamnit... lying... son of a... bitch. Oh, this is so stupid, this is so stupid. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”  

And Steve is too busy feeling sorry for himself that he doesn’t register the words are growing louder as the sound of footsteps approach the door. Then, the door opens and Steve falls back against the ground.  

“Steve?” Eddie asks above him.  

Steve groans and grabs his head. He hopes this doesn’t trigger another concussion or migraine.  

“Shit,” Eddie says. He steps over Steve and holds his hand out to help him up. Steve grabs it and lets himself be pulled up and led to the couch. “I’ll be right back,” Eddie promises.  

Next thing he knows, Steve has an ice pack wrapped in a towel placed in his hand. He glances up at Eddie. “I’m fine. I don’t need this.”  

Eddie crosses his arms and looks down at him. “My apartment, my rules. Put the ice pack on your head.”  

Steve feels around for anywhere tender and hisses at one spot he touches a little too hard. It’s not raised or anything, plus he usually has too much adrenaline to feel pain after he’s gotten a concussion, so Steve is pretty sure it’s just a bruise. He puts the ice pack on it anyways, not wanting to argue with Eddie. “Can we talk?” Steve asks.  

Eddie shrugs and sits in the worn leather chair in his living room. “About what?”  

Steve tries not to roll his eyes. “About the fact that everything was going so well today, and we were supposed to talk until you saw that text from Jordan.”  

He watches as Eddie shifts uncomfortably in the chair and starts picking at his nails. He sighs and looks at Steve. “It’s fine. We were just doing a favor for Robin. We don’t have to make a big deal out of it. There was always a deadline for this whole relationship thing, and I just cut it off sooner than planned. But if she needs me there to make Veronica comfortable, then I don’t think she should date her.”  

Steve sighs and puts his head in his hand. He’ll have to touch on the whole Veronica thing later so Eddie doesn’t get sidetracked. He puts the ice pack on Eddie’s wobbly coffee table then rubs his hands up and down his legs nervously and asks, “What if I wanted to make a big deal out of it?”  

“What?”  

Steve runs a hand through his hair, trying to settle his nerves. “What if I wanted to make a big deal out of it because Jordan means nothing to me? I wasn’t lying earlier when I said I wasn’t seeing anyone. I hooked up with her three weeks ago and haven’t talked to her since.”  

Eddie just laughs and shakes his head. “You don’t get it, do you?”  

“What?” Steve asks exasperated because he would really love if Eddie explained things to him.  

But he isn’t prepared for Eddie to look him in the eye with so much hurt as he asks, “Steve, over the past three years since you’ve met me, do you remember me going out with anyone? Mentioning anyone?”  

Steve shakes his head. Honestly, it was just never something Eddie brought up. He just thought he wasn’t comfortable talking about those things.  

“I wasn’t lying tonight,” Eddie says. “Since the moment I met you, I have fallen for you so damn hard, but every single time I’ve thought the timing was finally right and I was about to confess my feelings, you’ve mentioned someone new. It’s been three years, Steve. Why did you never consider me?” Eddie’s voice breaks at the end.  

Steve shakes his head. “I just didn’t let myself think I had a chance with you.”  

“Bullshit,” Eddie says.  

Steve points at him. “Don’t use that word. You know what it means to me.”  

Eddie leans forward in his chair and slowly says, “I do, and that’s why I call bullshit.”  

It hurts hearing it from Eddie, so Steve stands up and starts heading to the door.

He stops in his tracks.

Maybe Eddie’s right. Maybe Steve needs to be honest with himself. He’s always thought of Eddie as a fantasy out of reach, and in the process, he’s set himself up on so many pointless dates that he knew wouldn’t go anywhere. He was honestly self-sabotaging since the moment he met Eddie because...  

He walks back to Eddie and stops in front of his chair. “I was scared, Eddie.”  

Eddie scoffs.  

This only makes Steve upset. He throws out his arms. “In the past three years, when have you ever seen me have a serious relationship?”  

Eddie is silent for a moment, considering before he answers, “Never.”  

“And why do you think that is?”  

Eddie shrugs. “Because you’re not a relationship guy?”  

“Bullshit,” Steve says. “It’s because I was scared of getting hurt again. You remember what I said today at the bar. The whole reason we were supposed to talk.” Eddie looks down. Steve swallows hard and drops to his knees in front of the chair, forcing Eddie to look at him. “I have been scared of you since the moment I laid eyes on you because I knew you could so easily break my heart.”  

Steve hesitantly puts his hands on Eddie’s knees and squeezes. “And I was scared of hurting you, too.” He pauses and adds, “Then, Dustin would kill me.”  

Eddie lightly laughs at that, and Steve’s heart soars. He laughs with him. “You know it’s true! He would kill the both of us if we hurt each other. God, he’s probably already going to kill me.”  

Eddie softly cups Steve’s cheek and says, “I wouldn’t let him do that to you.”  

Steve leans into his hand and turns to press a soft kiss against it. “Today was one of the best days of my life, and I don’t want to spend another second pretending that I would be okay not reliving it every day. So, can we please finally get the timing right, and will you please go out with me?”  

Eddie stares at him hesitantly and sighs with a smile. “Well, I feel obligated now that you’re on your knees practically begging for me to say yes.”  

Steve laughs and shoves his shoulder. “Shut up.”  

Eddie mimes zipping his mouth closed and throwing the key away.  

“Oh my gosh, Eddie, just say yes.”  

Eddie smiles with his lips still closed and gestures to his mouth then shrugs.  

Steve puts his head in his hands and asks, “Are you going to make me humiliate myself by trying to find the key?”  

He gets a tap on his shoulder, and he looks up to find Eddie nodding with an evil smile.  

Steve sighs and stands up. “Why can’t I just have a normal boyfriend?”  

“Can’t call me your boyfriend when I haven’t said yes,” Eddie argues then slams his hand over his mouth.  

Steve just laughs as Eddie’s hand slowly slides down to reveal his big smile. Steve grabs both of his hands and pulls him up into a hug. He holds on tight as Eddie slowly wraps his arms around him.  

“Yes, by the way,” Eddie whispers into his ear.  

Steve pulls back. “Yes?” he asks.  

Eddie nods with a breathtaking smile. “Yes.”  

Steve lets out a sigh of relief before pulling Eddie into a kiss - their first kiss as a real couple.  

They both smile into the kiss, pulling away every so often to laugh and whisper things like, “I can’t believe this is finally happening,” and “I’m your boyfriend,” and “You’re my boyfriend.”  

And yes, all of those comments end up being Eddie as Steve confirms each with another kiss. But they both end up smiling so hard that they have to pull away and rest their heads against each other.  

“Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie says, “How long are we going to have to lie to Veronica about when our relationship started.”  

Oh no.  

Steve sighs and pulls Eddie to the couch. “You might want to sit down for this...”  

He recalls what Robin and Nancy told him, and Eddie ends up nodding and saying, “Yeah, I was wondering how Veronica would feel about Nancy and Robin being so weirdly close. But this makes way more sense.” Steve finds his reaction to be way more tame than his until he asks, “Want to go over there and make them pay?”  

Steve shakes his head with a smile. “I think making them wait in suspense is the best way to torture them.”  

“And how long do we want to make them wait?”  

Steve shrugs. “A few hours, maybe longer.”  

Eddie smiles. “And what should we do during those hours?”  

Steve presses a kiss against Eddie’s cheek and says, “I have a few ideas.”  

“Me too,” Eddie says as he moves to capture Steve’s lips with his own.  

Steve can’t believe that this could’ve been his life for the past three years, but luckily, they have all the time in the world to make up for lost time.  

But they still should’ve done this way sooner.  

-:-:-:-:-:-

One year later...  

“Come on, Steve. We’re going to be late!” Robin yells.  

Steve stares at his reflection and fixes his hair a few more times before he pulls back to stare at his outfit. He laughs at the yellow sweater that Eddie insisted he had to wear on their one-year anniversary before running off to help Nancy with some emergency.  

He’s not sure why Robin didn’t leave instead of him considering that the two girls now live together, but he doesn’t question it too much. Eddie was ready, and Robin said she wasn’t.  

He’s also not sure why Robin is fussing so much about getting to the bar on time when the four of them could celebrate both their anniversaries at any time of the day.  

“Come on, Steve. We can’t keep Nancy and Eddie waiting for too long or else they’re going to have to keep stalling and insisting that two other people are coming. But what if they don’t believe them? What if they get kicked out for loitering, huh? Then, where are we going to celebrate at? There’s no fair this year, and I think Eddie would die if we made him ride the Ferris wheel again. So, hurry up!”  

Steve stops staring at himself and turns to face Robin who has been pacing in the doorway and frantically texting on her phone for the past five minutes. As far as Steve knows, they’re both going to be right on time and probably early if they leave in the next few minutes, He crosses his arms. “What are you hiding?”  

Robin looks at him with wide eyes, very much giving away that she is hiding something. “Nothing!” she squeals.  

Steve raises his eyebrows.  

Robin stutters a bit then sighs. “Fine, I’m just nervous about the gift I got for Nancy for our anniversary.”  

“I thought you already gave her it?”  

Robin’s eyes flicker to the left. Another giveaway that she’s lying. “It’s another gift.”  

Steve rolls his eyes and walks past her. “I know you’re hiding something from me, but you’re right. We’re going to be late if we don’t leave soon. So, let’s go, Buckley.”  

He keeps pressing it during the car ride over until Robin launches off on a rant about the new lingerie she bought for their anniversary that she doesn’t think Nancy will like and goes into far too much detail about it. So much so that she only finishes her rant once they’ve pulled into the parking of the bar.  

“Steve,” Robin says.  

Steve stops and turns to her.  

She says nothing.  

“What?” he asks.  

Then, he gets concerned as tears fill her eyes and she smiles wider. “Nothing, I’m just so happy.”  

Steve stares in horror and confusion as Robin gets weirdly emotional. “Yeah, okay, let’s get you to Nancy,” Steve says, stepping out of his car and following as Robin practically skips to the bar.  

He stares as she proudly holds the door open. Yeah, things are starting to get weird-  

He stops in the entrance to the bar and stares at the rose petals on the floor. What?  

There’s a guitar strum, and Steve watches as Eddie starts to play on the stage with the horrible acoustics. He recognizes the song from the first night they met, and stops in his place, as mesmerized as he was when he first saw him.  

He plays it the whole way through before he puts his guitar back in his case and comes back to the mic. “Hey, everyone, and especially you Steve.”  

Steve smiles but then startles as he notices there are definitely more people than just him and Eddie in the place. In fact, it’s... everyone he knows. Dustin... the rest of the party... even Eddie’s uncle Wayne is there.  

“A year ago, Steve and I finally got together after I pined after him since the first night we met here in this very bar. Now, the song I just played wasn’t romantic at all, but it’s the song I was playing when I first laid eyes on Steve. And I have never been the same,” Eddie says resting his hands over his heart in a mixture of sincerity and just for the dramatics. “But, a year ago, when we lied to the waiter about our anniversary and scored Robin here some free cake-”  

“Hey!” Robin interjects.  

Everyone laughs, but Steve, Eddie, and Nancy know it’s true.  

“Well, I told the waiter that in one year, I would be back to propose to Steve.”  

Steve’s heart skips a beat as it all connects. He feels tears fill his eyes much like Robin as Eddie gets off the shitty stage and makes his way to Steve. He takes his hands. “Steve, I have loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you. And I can’t imagine a life where you’re not in it forever. And with that being said, I think it’s only fair that I get to be the one that goes down on one knee since you went down on two to ask me out.”  

“Gross,” Dustin says.  

“Not like that!” Eddie yells at him. He mumbles, “Christ, kid is going to ruin the damn moment.”  

Steve can’t help but think that nothing could ever ruin this moment.  

Eddie then pulls a ring box out of his back pocket and gets down on one knee. “Steve, will you marry me?”  

Steve feels a tear slip down his face as he nods and happily laughs out, “Yes.”  

He tugs Eddie up and hugs him tight, as everyone starts cheering and flooding around the two.  

Later, Dustin, Nancy, and Robin start arguing about who is the reason they got together, but the couple is quick to humble Robin and Nancy reminding them that they’re both the reason they almost ruined their relationship forever.  

Nancy apologizes as Robin argues that it still worked out in the end, but Dustin takes it as a victory.  

Eddie just laughs through it all, insisting that it was actually his impeccable guitar skills that got the two of them together, and they would be nowhere without it.  

But Steve knows deep down that no matter what universe they are in, he and Eddie would somehow end up together.

Thank you to my dear tag list and everyone for sticking around for this story and leaving such kind comments <3 I hope you enjoyed

Tag List:

@henderdads @little-gae-shit @dreamingtheimpossibe @leethegay @lazyavenuewhispers @olibxr @thegayestpersonever @heartsforhawke @estrellami-1 @messrs-weasley @evillitteguy @miss-hit @infrogulous @romanticdestruction @liz5100 @evix-syne666 @bebe07011 @corrodedseraphine @meganwinchester @manda-panda-monium @heartdinosblog @ellietheasexylibrarian @newtstabber @irregular-child @turboprops69 @envyadams-vs-me @dude-as-in-i-love-u @slv-333 @jillfriend @goodolefashionedloverboi @steady-delusional-moonlover @scheodingers-muppet @sleepyboosstuff @cyranyx @bestwifehaver @marvel-ous-m @chaosgoblinreblogsthings @vampiregirl1797 @moltenchocolatelavacake

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steddie fanfic

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ MASQUERADE PT. 2 ]

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A/N: I physically can not refrain from writing smut with angst or implied angst… please forgive me.. ❤️

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ SMUT ] + [ MATURE THEMES ] + [ MALE READER ] + [ SLIGHT ANGST ]

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“Would you mind if I came to see you again? I'll be in town by the weekend.” You tried not to smile too hard as the question left your lips, carrying through the telephone’s gentle crackling to resonate to the receiving end clearly, and the man you'd grown to cherish after a few short months of quiet correspondence gave a low response.

“I'll have you all to myself?” Alastor tugged your inquiry along with his own, smirking as you huffed dramatically and no doubt rolled your eyes at his words.

“As always, Al. You know I'm not one for having many friends,” you admit, slumping further into your living room sofa as if to sink through cushions and disappear from the blooming embarrassment you felt hearing him laugh again.

It was your second favorite thing about him. His honest charm was the first, and that had yet to change since the last time you'd enjoyed his company. Exactly six months ago, during your second visit to the City of Jazz, it was fun!

Alastor had essentially filled the void you'd been unable to conceal, keeping you on your toes at every turn and stringing you along in affectionate mind games you knew better than to entertain.

It was difficult not to, though; he knew what to say, what to do with you, and how to handle you. At times, you considered the idea of him being no ordinary man.

Devilish.

That's how you'd describe him to anyone who asked. Alastor was a striking character, able to overshadow your persona with a gentle smile, making you feel very accessible.

You weren't allowed freedom from judgment, public image, and parasocial expectations like every silver screen star was subjected to. Fortunately, you had no obligations with Alastor, no point to prove, and you amounted such casualness to the building of mutual bonding.

He understood fame and its demands.

He understood you…more than most.

Alastor interrupted your wandering thoughts with a witty comment, “Hm, touche, but I suppose I'm the exception.” You scoffed, grinning at the ceiling before making an equally snarky retort.

“Don't sound so full of yourself..” you heard him click his tongue, a sharp sound you wished to hear in person again sooner rather than later.

“But it's the truth, mon cher. Plain and simple.” he concurs, and you shift to sit up straight, reaching for the glass on the coffee table before you, studying the few ounces of liquor before downing the bitter liquid. “Am I welcome or not, Mr. Hartifelt?” You suck your teeth, nose scrunching as the alcohol flushes your veins, promoting your nerves to settle and easing your heart rate as you wait for his answer.

You felt a thrill from just speaking to him. It was beautiful, really, and scandalous to some degree.

Falling for a man you’d met only a handful of times shouldn’t be possible, but here you were, waiting with bated breath to hear his decision to see you again.

Please say yes…just one last time.

Alastor smiled, taking his time to contemplate your offer while leaning back in his desk chair, eyes trained on the intricate soundboard he sat at. He'd grown attached to you in one way or another, unsure if it was pure curiosity or pity on his part. Both reasons hadn't plagued him before your first encounter, and Alastor refused to acknowledge such impractical emotions, reminding himself that you were nothing more than a tag-along for him.

A lonely soul he could very quickly leave behind.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

That's what he forced his conscience to believe, willing itself to envision his compliance to your request as intrigue rather than genuine affection.

“I wouldn't dream of you refusing you, my friend. I look forward to spending time with you soon,” his answer was concise, a brief hint of satisfaction in his tone, and you immediately blurted out a joyous remark of relief.

“Then it’s settled! I’ll see you in two days,” a bright smile stretched across your face as he laughed softly on the other end, “You make it sound as if I’m your only reason for living, my dear.” Alastor shakes his head at his statement, knowing it held truth and proud to know he had such an effect on you.

Am I really that obvious to him?…

A stab of embarrassment hit you square in the heart, a subtle frown replacing your grin as you reflected on the time you’d spent with the radio host. He’d taken you anywhere and everywhere in New Orleans, insisted you join him for dinner on nights he wasn’t broadcasting, and even made an effort to view your recent film. However, he avidly proclaimed his hate for lackluster visual media.

However, he never criticized your films, choosing to compliment your scenes, or congratulating your recent success on his broadcast, as any good friend should do.

You couldn’t recall when Alastor had ever let on he knew of your attraction to him. Yes, he pried at your emotions for the hell of it a few times, but he’d never explicitly acknowledged it.

This was the first time he’d even alluded to such feelings, and your nerves were alert instantly, mind going blank as you navigated your flustered state before murmuring into the phone with a sheepish smile.

“You think very highly of yourself, Alastor..”

“Apologies, my dear. I’m partial to being honest with you. Take it as a form of flattery, if you will.”

His attempt at a modest apology failed, but you had no intention of stamping out his smug nature. Alastor’s blatant confidence was refreshing, and though you wished to keep speaking with him, your evening wasn’t absent of essential events to attend to.

You bid him goodbye with a heavy heart, wishing him a good evening despite knowing he’d put off sleep until the early morning to keep broadcasting as long as possible, and he returned the subtle sentiment before ending the call.

Hours passed, pictures were taken, interviews were conducted, and fans were screaming your name, but the only person on your mind was Alastor.

The following two days felt tortious, a strained waiting game you couldn’t wait to finish, and the second you arrived back in New Orleans and found the time to slip away from your manager, you headed straight for your usual rendezvous spot with the acclaimed radio host.

Club Intime

—- ——- ——- ——- ———

There he was, relaxed in the seclusion of a velvet lounge booth, merely hidden away from the rest of the dimly lit speakeasy. Alastor wasn’t one to socialize unnecessarily. He was content with observing others through the lenses of his round glasses that were beginning to fog up from the fumes of his cigarette, a cold glass half full of whiskey set before him to aid his solitary sedation.

From afar, he looked out of place, cordial, and put together, unlike the rest of the patrons waltzing around. The only unkempt detail about him was the state of his bow tie and collar. He’d undone it the second he sat down, nimble fingers unlacing the stiff ribbon before trying to unbutton his dress shirt's first two clasps. It was a habit he’d yet to avoid after a long evening of work and one you thoroughly enjoyed.

The insignificant results hit just the right nerves, drawing your eyes to his clean-cut features, caramel skin, and hidden scars that he’d once called “unavoidable trophies.” From what or who you weren't sure.

You’d thought to ask him why he felt so highly of his wounds, concerned they’d hit deeper than he let on, but Alastor reassured you through a tight smile your sympathy for him wasn’t needed.

He was a proud man, very sure of himself, and it showed even in a room full of illicit drinkers and rowdy partygoers. Intimidating was the easiest way to describe him, and you felt exactly that way as his hazel eyes settled on you from across the room: intimidated.

You stood at the club's entrance, letting one of the hosts take your coat, but as he asked which table you preferred, you politely declined his offer before looking back at Alastor.

He hadn’t moved, still staring you down with a gentle smile, glasses pushed to the top of his head, and drink in one hand while the cigarette dangled above its rim nestled between two of his fingers.

God, he was beautiful, like a demon straight out of hell.

Alastor tipped his head, signaling you to come his way, and you did with a certain excitement in your eyes. He studied you just the same as you’d done to him, watching your form intently as you snaked through the bustling crowd toward your regular table with him, and by the time you were close enough to call his name, a shameless grin was on your face.

“Al!” You shouted above the drumming music, slipping to sit beside him in the blink of an eye, and he didn’t hesitate to make room for you. “I see you made it to town safely, my dear!” He placed his drink down, taking one last drag from his cigarette before putting it in the liquor. You blushed at the sight of him exhaling the smoke, brown eyes trained on you and an expectant glint in them as he shifted to face you.

“Y-Yes, well, you’ve been an excellent guide the first few times I’ve come here, so I suppose I’m used to the city now.” You smiled at him softly, hoping he’d disregard the stutter in your voice, but knowing him, you were sure he’d caught it very clearly.

Nothing ever got past Alastor.

He hummed, flattered by your praise but more interested in your apparent nervousness. You had yet to act unbothered by him, which amused the radio host.

“Glad to know my assistance was helpful. Do you plan to stay longer this time round?” Alastor rested an arm on the table, chin finding his open palm, and his head now level with yours.

Fuck, I forget how tall he is sometimes…Jesus Christ…

You gulp, blood running hot as his gaze bores into yours, searching for an answer you had yet to give him. It felt hard to breathe for a moment; all you could hear was your heartbeat and the muffled noise of the club.

Why’d he always have to be so close?

Didn’t he know who you were, who he was, what this looked like to other people?

Granted, the onlookers were drunk or too dizzy from dancing to focus on you both.

But the risk of it all, that unmistakable boldness Alastor embodied, had you nervous in all the right ways.

After a beat of silence and staring, you mustered up the courage to give him a response. “Seeing as I have time off from filming, I’ll spend it here. A change of scenery is an actor's best challenge.” You broke eye contact with him, staring into the crowd to keep from fidgeting as he nodded with a low hum, “So, in other words, I won’t be rid of you anytime soon?” Alastor chuckled as you feigned offense at his question, head snapping towards him and a discreet frown on your lips.

“That was quite rude of you to say, Mr. Hartifelt. Especially since I came all the way here to see you…”

A mischievous spark lit up his eyes, smile growing devilish as you glared at him, “Ah, so I am the apple of your eye, mon cher…”

It wasn’t a question.

He didn’t pose the observation as anything else, wanting to bait you into a confession, and he succeeded quicker than you realized.

“No, I did come to experience the city,” you retort flatly, tempted to order a drink and down it to freeze the nerves burning your skin.

Alastor glanced around, assuring no one was invested in your exchange, before dipping his head to whisper in your ear. “Don’t lie to me, cher. I can see it written all over your face, and I must admit it’s a delight to see.” You could practically hear the wicked grin on his lips, sweet and sinister all at once.

Damn. It.

You paled as he pulled back, smirk ever present as he waved a waiter down to order another drink as if he hadn’t reduced you to a fluttery mess beside him.

You sat pin straight, willing to breathe, and on the verge of zoning out completely.

“And what would you like to order, monsieur?” The waiter addressed you, brow raised as you flinched from the sudden question, “I…uh…I-I’ll have the…” you inwardly panicked from the lack of coherent speech left on your tongue, but the building embarrassment dulled as Alastor spoke up for you.

“He’ll have the same as me. Double it and bring the tab as well. Merci.”

“Je vais le faire sortir tout de suite, monsieur. “ The waiter nodded, taking down Alastor’s request quickly before throwing you a strange look and strutting away.

You had to pull it together, or the image you worked so hard for Katina would crumple at one man’s behest, and deep down, you didn’t mind.

It was tiring being perfect, faking your entire personality for the masses's support, and the longer you lingered in Alastor’s company, the more enticing it was just to let it all go.

To drop the mask you wore like an overbearing shroud.

Just once, you’d like to be another person, someone less empty and carnally fulfilled.

One night wouldn’t hurt, right?

You glanced at Alastor, entranced by his lax manner, foot tapping to the swinging melodies and his eyes scanning the room as if searching for prey.

One night with him…wouldn’t be your end, right?

He didn't pretend with you, nor sugar coat his thoughts and actions in hopes of impressing you, and on more than one occasion you both sought some form of imtalcay from the other.

This man had seen what others couldn’t, so why deny yourself a chance at fleeting freedom?

He could pick you apart and put you back together again, and you wouldn’t mind.

So long as Alastor remained the only man to see through you.

One night.

That’s all you asked him for when your drinks arrived, and you were prepared for him to reject your offer, but the sting of refusal never came.

He accepted the arrangement, smile wide, and his eyes hazing over with lust the moment your question reached his ears.

“I thought you’d never ask, cher….”

The night was a whirlwind after that; the tab left on the table tallied to a large sum from the amount of alcohol ordered, and by the end of two hours, you were utterly inebriated.

You met the comfort of your hotel room not long after your time at the hidden bar, stumbling through the door by Alastors lead, laughing softly as his grip on your wrist tightened when you reached behind to close and lock the door.

If you'd seen the malicious edge to his smile as your lips met, you could've sensed danger before it arrived. Maybe if you'd stopped to think properly as clothes were tossed to the floor and his hands met your bare skin, you would've been weary of how cold they felt. Maybe if you'd perceived the rapid pace of your heart as fear for your life and not a side effect of mind-boggling pleasure while he fucked you to the point of tears, you could've vied for safety.

If only you'd seen through his mask, through his glamorous praises, and listless stares…

Maybe you could've survived and tried to fight him, but the rewards of cracking under his pressure rendered such critical thinking useless.

Once. Twice. A third.

Alastor took you from one height of pleasure to the next, forcing whatever bit of raw honesty he could out of you with a series of unforgiving thrusts, swallowing your breathless moans with shallow kisses. He'd never let you utter a word of refusal, using your body to the fullest without a second thought and scarcely sympathetic of how much you could take from him.

At the mercy of your fourth high, you clung to him, nails digging into his scarred back, head tucked into the crook of his neck, and your chest heaving with quiet groans of his name. Alastor could feel the stray tears on your cheeks, melting on his skin, exciting him to no end. “Oh, you poor thing..” he teased you through gritted teeth, biting back a smile as your walls tightened around his cock, another whine rippling your throat at the condensing remark.

“To think so many adore you, and yet here you are…” Alastor pressed his weight down onto you entirely, hands tight on your hips as he deepened his strokes, reaching places inside you that felt almost foreign. You gave up trying to speak, scratching down his back instead as a wordless warning for release, but he didn't let up.

“…showing your true colors to me. I could almost feel sport for you, Cher.” his tone dripped with vague pity, full of satisfaction as he buried himself in you, earning a soft gasp on your part and a fulfilled grown from him.

A warmth enveloped your core as he spilled his cum into you, adding to the amount he'd already so graciously given and triggering your release in seconds.

“Don't want you to feel bad for me..” you huff tiredly, eyes rolling as your cock twitched and leaked between you. Alastor hummed, eyes lowering the sight of skin glossing over with the sticky white fluid, “I pity any soul as desperate as yours, darling…”

“Desperate?” you question him with a lazy smile, ready to correct his comment but failing to as he pulled out of you, leaving you empty and restless.

“Desperate to be loved by any and everyone…” Alastor clarifies, staring at you with a soft smile on his lips as he leans down to graze them over your parted ones.

“Even by a killer like me…”

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I finally completed this!!!! I'm seriously considering getting an Alastor blanket to curl up in because the stress I've been feeling this week is wild…❤️

Quick side note: do you all realize Alastor would be the most toxic partner in history? Yes, he's sweet, respectful, dashing, and everything else needed to be a surface-level perfect companion. But once you get past all of that, there's not a single aspect of your life Alastor wouldn't control, stalking you, weaving webs of lies to isolate you, using minor signs of affection as a way to keep you close, and buying you gifts to mask all his deep seeded antagonism. He would be your dream man but a total nightmare in one way or another.

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

Pilot Alsstor was something else I love him so muchhhh ❤️ credit to creator

#Spotify #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #human alastor #alastor hartfelt #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel headcanon #alastor smut #hazbin alastor #alastor x oc #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor the radio demon #alastor fanfiction #alastor human #alastor x male reader #male reader #x male reader #x male y/n #x male smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fanfic writing

[elains]

Azriel's association with Enalius, what it means for his arc and Illyria

This is something me and my friends have talked about off tumblr, but I wanted to write my own post about it and gather my thoughts. But here, I'll discuss a bit Azriel's character and how the revelations we witness in House of Flame and Shadow will be important to his character. (+ a little bit of Emerie).

What do we know about Enalius? From ACOSF, Emerie provides us with a little exposition when they are in the Rite, when the Pass of Enalius is brought up:

Long ago—so long ago they don’t even have a precise date for it—a great war was fought between the Fae and the ancient beings who oppressed them. One of its key battles was here, in these mountains. Our forces were battered and outnumbered, and for some reason, the enemy was desperate to reach the stone at the top of Ramiel. We were never taught the reason why; I think it’s been forgotten. But a young Illyrian warrior named Enalius held the line against the enemy soldiers for days.

Now, from the Crescent City crossover, we learned that Truth-teller and Gwydion are twin blades. They are a pair. According to the Silene History Lesson, the dagger used to belong to her father's (Fionn's) dear friend, slain during the war. A bit later, when they find Vesperus, she confirms that this friend was Enalius:

The Asteri’s eyes flared with recognition at the long blade. “Did Fionn send you, then? To slay me in my sleep? Or was it that traitor Enalius? I see that you bear his dagger—as his emissary? Or his assassin?”

Immediately before that, she also confirms that the Asteri crafted (which can either mean created, shaped forged, but we are going with created) the Illyrians:

The Asteri’s blue eyes lowered to the dagger. “You dare draw a weapon before me? Against those who crafted you, soldier, from night and pain?”

From everything, we can conclude this: Enalius was the original wielder of Truth-teller before Fionn and Theia, a dear friend to Fionn, and someone who pulled the ultimate sacrifice to keep the Asteri/Daglan from reaching the top of Ramiel. He was a traitor to the Asteri, a rebel against his masters and everything they stood for.

Enalius is the hero most Illyrians strive to mimic, the legendary figure who they all hope to one day surpass. He's a symbol of their people, even if so much about him has been forgotten — the fact that he had a dagger, Fionn's friendship, what the battle was for, maybe even how he was as a person. Brave, for sure. Willing to die for the cause.

And it's Azriel who bears his dagger. Azriel, who has such a complicated relationship with his Illyrian heritage and loaths it - and by extension, himself - is the one with this enormous legacy right at this hand. And this matters.

Still in ACOSF, we have Rhys talking with Cassian and wanting him to play Courtier, the following exchange then follows:

“What, we’re doing some role reversal? Az gets to lead the Illyrians now?” “Don’t play stupid,” Rhys said coolly. Cassian rolled his eyes. But they both knew Azriel would sooner disband and destroy Illyria than help it. Convincing their brother that the Illyrians were a people worth saving was still a battle amongst the three of them.

Azriel hates the Illyrians for what happened to him and his mother and his dislike for them is, to a degree, understandable. The thing is that Azriel, no matter how much he loaths it, is Illyrian. Maybe he's more than that (as it's pointed that Az is different in a lot of ways and Bryce wonders if he is Starborn), but at heart, he's Illyrian. Siphons, leathers, fighting, being Carynthian, his wings, his scabbard and the dagger it holds.

It was healthy, perhaps, for Az to sometimes remember where he'd come from. He still wore the Illyrian leathers. Had not tried to get the tattoos removed. Some part of him was Illyrian still. Always would be. Even if he wished to forget it.

Being Illyrian is part of who he is and his deep hatred for them only fuel his self-loathing. He would like to set himself apart, but he is not.

We can actually draw a direct parallel between Azriel and Bryce with how they regard the Fae vs the Illyrians. Bryce loathes the Fae and for most of HoFaS, she believes they are evil, corrupt, power-hungry and quite generally, not worth saving. She would leave them all to burn. Sound familiar?

And Bryce is wrong. Sathia challenges her notion, pointing out that she's laying judgement to all fae and that is hardly fair. What the one who don't deserve it? Herself, yes, but Flynn, Declan, and Ruhn himself? Do they deserve to burn too? Bryce herself acknowledges this:

Urd had sent her there to see, even in the small fraction of their world that she’d witnessed, that Fae existed who were kind and brave. She might have had to betray Nesta and Azriel, trick them … but she knew that at their cores, they were good people. The Fae of Midgard were capable of more. Ruhn proved it. Flynn and Dec proved it. Even Sathia proved it, in the short time Bryce had known her.

And this part here sums up quite neatly:

Fire met starlight met shadows, and Bryce loosed herself on the world. It ended today. Here. Now. This had nothing to do with the Asteri, or Midgard. The Fae had festered under leaders like these males, but her people could be so much more.

There are Illyrians who are kind and brave and break the mold. We see this with Emerie, who is also a woman. We see that with Balthazar, Cassian. The main point stands, though, that you cannot judge or condemn an entire race for the bad apples.

Azriel is wrong, just as Bryce was wrong, and his journey will be also to realise that his people are worth saving. They were created of night and pain (words that Azriel embodies, being a master of shadows and a torturer), but that is not everything they need to be. They can be more than soldiers. They can thrive.

And I believe this was something Enalius himself came to the believe, long ago. His people deserved more than to be slaves to the Asteri, forced to give them their power when need be, bred to live and die for them. They could be more. And Enalius died to free his people from their chains.

Is Azriel Enalius's blooded descendant? I'm not sure, but he doesn't need to be. Azriel is Enalius successor because he will finish what was started. He'll uncover the secrets of the past, what his people were in truth, what Enalius rebelled for, what he stood for, what the Blood Rite truly means - which he only got a glimpse of.

And this is where I think Emerie will also come in. She's s one of ACOSF most relevant characters and the first female Illyrian to be Carynthian. I think Emerie will also become an inspirational figure to the Illyrian women, another of these what they coud be. What they can be. And more importantly and that is just a theory, what they were.

Orestes was a warrior. What if so was Carynth and she was woman? The name always struck me as similar to Carina, which is the name of a constellation and commonly used by women. It would be ironic and another shaking revelation to the Illyrians that Carynth, for whom their greatest warriors are named after, was a woman.

Does that mean all Illyrian women must become Valkyries? No, but some might wish to follow this path whilst their society takes its time to catch up. They already shook the status quo and with Nesta poised to have a big role (andthe Valkyries along her), they will continue to do so.

Azriel will uncovered the lost history of Vesperus offered him all the clues he needed to start looking. His journey to find out this secrets will lead to him facing his own demons, confronting his loathing for his people and, in doing so, he will make peace with himself.

#hofas spoilers #azriel #shout out to yaz for helping me fish the quotes #my meta #acotar #acosf #emerie #illyria