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pellucid-constellations · 3 months

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If It All Fell (5)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, PINING, references to nonconsensual situations (very brief, nothing graphic, and not Az)

a/n: Hope this clears some stuff up ;) More to come and especially more Az to come. Thank you forever for reading and sharing your thoughts! This is getting me through the semester <3

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ☆ Part 3 ✶ Part 4☼ Part 6 ♡

Series Masterlist

Azriel walked you to your room.

He knew exactly where to go, which corners to turn and which to pass, which was very convenient as you still found yourself struggling with the task. The House of Wind, as everyone so lovingly called it, was practically a maze for someone with no memory of its twists and turns. But Azriel had absolutely no trouble getting you to your room.

Once you got to your room, however, he appeared to have many troubles.

“You can come in,” you prompted, looking over your shoulder to find the shadowsinger with his shoes at the threshold. “I promise I just cleaned it. Or, at least I’m pretty sure I cleaned it. It’s hard to know where to put things when I only just started…”

Your voice trailed off. Upon further inspection of the man standing just outside your door, you found that he didn’t simply look hesitant to enter. He had his hands pressed to the doorframe, his head slightly leaned into the room, and his eyes were slowly trailing along your belongings. The expression on his face read as forlorn, but his body read as tense.

He had been here before, obviously. Of course this would be hard for him. You probably had everything in the wrong place and he had just told you about the difficult time he was having—how close the two of you had been before you lost everything.

“Um,” you began, pressing your lips together tightly when his gaze flickered to you. “Maybe you could… or would you mind maybe telling me where my bags are? If you know. Mor gave me a surface-level tour, but she didn’t seem to know everything.”

Azriel looked down to the ground beneath your feet. He blinked back up to meet your eyes. “Of course,” he replied, with so much practiced restraint in his tone you weren’t sure how he gritted out the words.

When he stepped in the room, it felt as if something shifted. He walked between tables and furniture and he fit like a puzzle, his wings never brushing anything, his eyes never casting down to analyze his body in the space. He looked like he belonged—he looked like he completed the space.

Something finally felt right.

Nothing felt right… but this did.

Azriel pushed open the closet doors, rifling through a cabinet you had only glanced at before. After a few silent moments, he walked out with bags in hand. His shadows hadn’t followed him. They drifted towards the bed instead, burrowing into the blankets and pillows until the plush surface became dark.

Azriel zeroed in on them as he placed the bags by your feet, staring off at his shadows as you brought your attention back to him. This close, you were able to catch his scent—the cedar and night-kissed air you’d recognized many times in recent days. But it had been so faint before, like he had been gone for weeks and the scent still lingered, or he had been in the room but only for a brief time. Nothing like now, with his chest only inches from your face.

“They seem to like my bed,” you laughed, just a small, breathy sound. An attempt to diffuse some of the untouched tension in the room.

The side of Azriel’s mouth curled up. You watched it rise, silently relishing in the heat of his body as it radiated into the space between you. “I can see that.”

He wasn’t a man of very many words—that’s something Mor had thankfully shared with you—but you wanted to fight against that. You wanted to hear the soft, low rumble of his voice. You wanted his laugh to spark in the air, to feel his words against your skin as you had just a few moments earlier. Azriel told you he didn’t hate you, that he was close to you, and suddenly the space between you felt impossible.

You just wanted to hear his voice.

“Have I changed things much?” you asked, heart thudding when he brought his gaze down to you. “I don’t know how much time you used to spend in here… or currently spend in here, I suppose—it’s only been a few days—but I’ve moved a few things. If you could tell.”

Azriel took in a long breath. “Actually, you—” he shook his head with an expression you could only decipher as baffled “—you put everything back. Cassian and Feyre, they moved a few things around when you were being brought home. Things that might have… well, we just didn’t want you to be overwhelmed.”

Overwhelmed.

“We should have known that was a ridiculous idea. You’re too brilliant, even without the context.”

Warmth flooded you; one compliment from Azriel and it was as if nothing mattered. You didn’t need your memories, you only needed this.

Azriel’s cheeks colored as if he felt the rush of emotions himself, his eyes bright.

No, that wasn’t right—you needed your memories. You needed to remember each and every time he had looked like this.

“Probably didn’t help that there were a bunch of empty spaces everywhere. If you leave nails on the wall it becomes quite obvious that something belongs there,” you quipped, a small smirk playing at your features.

Azriel laughed. Not a full laugh, but one that you had no idea you were missing before. “I will be sure to pass on the message.”

“Good. Cassian has many messages coming from me, it seems. Conflicting ones as well.”

“Right, of course. I will convey to him that you missed his presence earlier, but also that he is awful at hiding things from an amnesiac.”

“Perfect, thank you, Azriel.”

He gazed upon you, eyes flickering to every corner of your face.

They rested on your lips and then your eyes, trailing up until his hand followed to move the strand of hair that had wisped across your forehead. He brushed it away with delicate fingers, not a touch of hesitancy in them. Like it was natural for him, normal.

And maybe it was.

“I don’t know what to pack,” you whispered, trying to keep some of the lightness in the room. “Can you help? I haven’t a clue where most of my things are and you appear to be much more knowledgeable.”

Azriel drew his hand back, his eyes closing for a few long moments.

You wished you could delve into his mind the way Rhysand could—that you could understand some of the pain written in the tight clench of his eyelids.

“Of course I’ll help you.”

It began with him gathering things from the connected washroom. He entered the tiled room and opened drawers without fault or mistake, collecting perfumes you had been gravitating towards and zipping up products you hadn’t even found yet. He packed your brushes and jewelry as if he’d done this all before, as if your request for help wasn’t really a request, but an expectation.

“Have we traveled together before?” you found yourself asking as you followed behind the shadowsinger, a bag hanging from his arm.

Azriel smiled, turning to you with a glint in his eye. “A few times.”

You were very close friends, then.

Azriel led you back to the closet where he pulled a few articles of clothing from the hangers, holding each out for you to approve before he neatly folded them. You denied nothing, rather surprised by his taste and sense for whatever the weather was like in Day.

He moved further into the closet, half of which was sparsely filled. Maybe you filtered out your clothes with the seasons.

Or maybe something was missing.

Azriel paused.

You watched his scarred fingers brush over the purple dress you had worn on the first day you spoke to him after waking up. He rubbed the material against the pad of his thumb once, and then twice, before closing the closet doors and taking an abrupt step back. You stepped with him.

The shadowsinger said nothing.

“All done?” you asked. “Anything else I would need at Day?”

His shoulders rose and fell. Some of his shadows returned to make revolutions around his body.

“Azriel?”

“I—I’m sorry. Give me a moment.”

The shadowsinger stalked over to the bed, went to sit, but then seemed to think against it and began pacing instead. You tucked your fingers into your palm as you watched him, trying to hide the discomfort you felt as his clear unease.

Had you done something wrong?

Maybe you were being too familiar. This friendship between you was new and comfortable and exciting, but that was for you.

For Azriel, there was a gap, an immense amount of pain and missing connection.

He didn’t hate you, and that was… wonderful news, but this was also uncharted territory.

Maybe you shouldn’t have asked for his help—shouldn’t have invited him in.

“Azriel, I—”

“I need to explain this to you,” Azriel began, running a hand through disheveled locks. “I need you to understand why this is so hard. I don’t want you to assume this is your fault or that this is anything other than what it is.”

You nodded, but he didn’t look up to see your confirmation.

Azriel sighed and his wings flared slightly, returning back to his body in a quivering motion.

“I am terrified, y/n.”

This time, Azriel did look up to catch your gaze.

“I am terrified because this has happened before. It’s like I’m reliving it. Like you’re reliving it but you just don’t remember.”

Your fists unfurled as your brows met a point. “No one’s told me—“

“I know,” he breathed out, defeat the most prominent emotion on his beautiful face. “Last time this happened, the more we told you about the past—about certain aspects of your life—the more it hurt you, y/n. You’d… you’d scream until your lungs gave out every time we tried to share something new. It was like that for weeks.”

The Illyrian forfeited his internal battle with the bed, dropping down into a seat on the foot of it. Unsure of your place within your own room, you simply followed him, standing in front of his bent knees, eyes prompting him to continue.

He watched you as you moved.

“Has anyone told you what you do for this court? Your job?”

You shook your head.

Azriel continued. “You work as an emissary between courts and continents, but that’s more of a cover—a more comprehensible title for those outside of our circle. It’s hard to explain, but that power Rhys mentioned? It’s—it’s as if you have this intuition. For everything. You look at things, at people, and you just… know them. You look past lies and you pick up on things that are seemingly impossible to catch.”

Your head shook as Azriel fumbled over each of his words, confusion swirling in your gut. “That doesn't make any sense. Mor said that Rhys found me working at some boatyard by the Sidra. She said I used to help build vessels—there’s no way I have a power like that.”

“You do,” Azriel affirmed. “Rhys only went to find you because he heard of a girl building boats from memory. You took one look at him and knew what he wanted. Rhys said he barely had to offer you the job.”

It was a struggle not to grind your teeth together in frustration.

You used to know everything.

And now you knew nothing.

Your head began to hurt, or maybe you were just noticing that it had never stopped hurting.

“You said—” you started, tone heavy with vexation. Your eyes couldn’t find a solid place to land “—you said this has happened before. What does that have to do with these powers?”

Sensing the rise in your mood, Azriel seemed to even his own out. A balance between the two of you. You became agitated, he became calm. But you could tell he was struggling.

“Around 270 years ago, after you’d been working for the court for a few decades, Rhys sent you to Day. It was routine. You were going to gather information for a High Lord’s summit meant to take place there, but really, Rhys wanted you to scope out the area. To get insight on any plans, any secret dealings. You were meant to be gone for a few days at the most.”

Azriel’s fists clenched atop his knees. His face remained impassive.

“You were gone for six months. Gone. No one could reach you, Helion had assumed you went home already. It was right after you and I… became friends, so I was worried for you. More than the others, but no one was without worry. We found you eventually, but you—”

Something choked. Azriel choked. His head hung down and you replayed the last few of his words in your mind—the way they tightened and then tapered off.

This was too much.

Conveying comfort in the only way you knew how—in the way this family tended to love—you stepped between Azriel’s legs and brought a hand to his cheek, raising his face until his glassy eyes came into view.

“You don’t have to talk about this,” you whispered. “If it’s too hard, we can stop.”

Azriel’s jaw quivered. His next words seemed to tumble from his mouth without warning.

“Fuck, I miss you.”

It was simple instinct that led to your reply. “I’m right here.”

Something stirred within you, tugging lightly. Your heart, you deduced, beating so fast it was playing tricks on you. The shadowsinger in your hands twisted slightly, just barely so that the corner of his mouth touched your palm. Your heart tugged again.

“You didn’t remember anything, like now,” Azriel revealed, speaking just as you were about to pull away. You stopped yourself, feeling as if your touch was an encouragement to speak. “It was worse though, you were in so much pain. Any time you tried to remember anything, or even just tried to learn, it was like you were being pierced through the skull. You—you screamed so much.

“But it didn’t take us very long to figure it out. My spies in Day found the culprit and it was easy to capture him. He was weak. Strong powers, but weak in every other sense of the word. It was another Daemati—like Rhys. He became infatuated with you during your time in Day. He knocked you out, found a way to use your powers against you, to make them hurt.”

Azriel shuddered. His mouth got closer to your hand like he was leaning into it.

“It took a few weeks to get him to fix it. But those months, y/n—the time you were gone. You don’t remember them. I can only imagine what you went through. And when we brought you home you hurt so badly. So that's why… why us going back there is hard. Because this is all so similar and if it’s happening again I can’t…”

“Azriel,” you softly called, sure that this was the most amount of speaking the shadowsinger had done in a while. Sure that he needed a break. A respite. “It’s not the same, is it? You know that. My head hurts, but not like that. I don’t struggle to be reminded of the past. I learn new things. There is no evil villain waiting to take me away.”

“Y/n—”

“It’s not the same. I might not have access to these all-encompassing powers you speak of, but I can tell you that much. I’m sorry for what you went through before—that you had to watch a member of your family go through that then and then now… but it’s different. It’s different and I’ll be okay.”

His pond water eyes stared back at you as you attempted a reassuring smile. You felt his knees press against your thighs where you stood between them, and the pressure spurred you on. You ran your thumb along the high point of his cheek, relishing in the flutter of his lashes, gravitating towards him to relish in that closeness as well. This moment felt like yours, and something was telling you it was yours. That no one else could have this with him.

But you didn’t have your powers, your fae abilities, so maybe that feeling was nothing but hope.

Your thudding heart lulled you into a long breath.

“Maybe, if it would put you at ease, you could stay with me while we’re in Day? At my side, I mean. You could whisper everyone’s names into my ear so I don’t look like a fool and make sure I don’t get lost—”

“Yes,” Azriel replied, sure and resolute with no traces of the impending tears that had made his hazel eyes a pretty pool just moments before. “I won’t leave your side once. I promise.”

His devotion made you pause, surprise evident in the rapid blinking of your eyes. You wanted to protest, to tell him he didn’t need to promise something so taxing, but determination had set in his brow, and Azriel—your friend—wanted this. Needed this.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Thank you, Azriel. For telling me all of this even though it was hard. For being here for me even though I know that’s hard, too. You’re a wonderful friend. I can’t wait to continue to find that out. I promise to be just as wonderful.”

“You are already the most wonderful thing in my life.”

Part 6 ♡

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel angst #acotar fanfiction #azriel #if it all fell

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yanderestarangel · 1 month

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did u delete a fic? i swear i saw a tio!miguel fic earlier today

a/n: hi angel! thank you for asking, in fact there was an age restriction and I decided to delete it, I'll take advantage of your comment and repost it. ✧⁠*ᜊ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᜊ.

"TIO" MIGUEL O'HARA X FTM READER

𝐓𝐖: dark plot, toxic relationship, power play, non con, dub con, manipulation, age gap, step!incest (non-blood uncle), invasion of privacy, stalking, threat, dead dove, dark smut, latino ftm reader, femboy reader, jealousy, aggressive sex, recorded sex, dom!miguel, v!sex, blowjob, spanish nicknames, send nudes, degradation, objectification, AU, male x male, porn plot, long fic, brain rot, creampie, blackmail.

Family parties were normal for your family, getting together some close relatives and celebrating on any weekend, always with plenty of music and laughter filling your ears, was annoying at times, but you couldn't say 'no' to a tradition.

You felt the cold of the night breeze enter your skin, each hair left its place accompanied by a strange chill ── you were being watched, and you knew very well who it was... Tio Miguel.

Miguel O'Hara was a friend of your father, a mysterious and serious man, even though your family welcomed him as if he shared the same blood, he still had the same look of rigidity and seriousness ── no one knew much about his past, if he had some relationship or family before moving to your city years ago, but it was only said that he worked as a caretaker on some local farms ── which made him earn too much money for a simple caretaker, but that matter was not touched by no one in your family.

You obeyed the strict rule of calling him "Uncle" or "Tio", since when he arrived, when his eyes met yours, it was as if something awakened in his core ── a flame lost for years, now burning in his soul, and you it was the kerosene that made this fire worse.

Your attention returned to reality, seeing the tanned man go to the place where you were, sitting next to you; muscular legs crammed into the black jeans he always wore, with a weather-beaten dress shirt that had previously been white, now appeared to be a light vanilla shade, hugging the girth of his robust muscles. He had a cold, fresh can of beer in his right hand, while his left went towards his hair, arranging some loose strands that insisted on falling on his forehead, his lips formed a thin line, the corners turned down in disapproval ── The sight of you hiding from the celebration hurt him, a pang of possessiveness invaded his chest, soon remembering the things he had seen, however, before touching on the topic of rupture the words came out softly from his throat.

"What is wrong, carinõ?"

He asked softly, hand reaching out to take yours gently. His grip was firm but not unnecessarily tight, calloused skin warm against your own.

"You should be out there, dancing and laughing with your family... You seem thoughtful mi principito"

You sighed in response, quickly explaining that you weren't in a party mood, your hands went back to the cell phone that was previously in your pocket, making the Mexican's eyes narrow in response to such an act. O'Hara took a deep breath, feeling the air fill his lungs, then crushing the drink can in his hand and turning to you, he knew exactly what he wanted to know and he wanted the truth.

"Who was that boy, mi vida?”

He questioned, pulling you closer to his frame as the music swelled around you. His fingers traced idle patterns on your back, you felt the burn of heat on his body, the smell of expensive men's perfume and cheap alcoholic drink.

"You were speaking so intimately with him..."

His voice was a low purr, tinged with warning.

"This is our moment, just us... I dropped that phone." That was a threat, making you make a quick excuse ── after all, you knew exactly what he was talking about, you were going out with "Hobbie Brown", a friend from your college, but you didn't expect your uncle to have seen the two of you together (but it wasn't very difficult, you and the boy always clung to each other even if you didn't have anything officially. )

You moved away from Miguel's heat, before the sensation was still tolerable, but now it seemed like a violent flame and about to explode like a time bomb. Your mouth opened, speaking sweet lies, trying to mask the fact that you were going out with Hobbie ── you knew that the best way was to lie, even if it didn't do anything, you had already seen how your non-sanguine uncle acted like a crazy man when you were around people other than him. Miguel's eyebrows arched in disbelief, dark brows furrowing deeply. "Tell me, corazón, is there something you wish to confess to me?"

He asked, tilting his head curiously. His gauze lingered on your lips, as if he could taste the lie on them. "I see what happens around me, my heart."

He murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

"And I do not like it... Do not lie to me, mi angel, because the next lie I hear from your sweet lips, you'll regret it." The sound of his voice was a low rumble, like thunder on the horizon. He pulled you close again, his lips brushing your ear softly.

"You play with fire... Mi pequeño."

His voice was a whisper now, his breath warm against your skin.

"And one day, that fire will burn you."

He released you then, stepping back with a harsh exhale. His eyes were stormy, his features set in a hard line. Miguel stared at you for a moment, as if he could read your thoughts, as if he could feel your fear ── Finally, he sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"If I ever hear of another man touching you like that again... I will end him." He muttered, downing a large gulp of his drink before setting the bottle down on the table. You watched him leave, the loud footsteps on the raw cement floor were enough to tell you that he was angry. The rest of the party was strange, you felt tio Miguel's eyes on you, even though the atmosphere was pleasant for the other participants in your family, everything had gotten worse after the confrontation you had with the man ── you thought about telling about your uncle's strange behavior towards your father, but you knew it wouldn't help, they would just defend Miguel and say that you were exaggerating... But you felt like you weren't.

You went to your room, while you saw the tall man's shadow in the hallway, bumping into the walls because he was too drunk to think or stand on his feet ── you saw him leaning on your door frame, while you asked calmly if he needed some help. Miguel's eyes met his, his vision slightly blurred from the alcohol he had consumed. He licked his lips, his gaze roaming your body hungrily, but he didn't act, only a sob and a sad laugh left his lips, while he showed his white canines.

"You are mi ninõ. You always have been and always will be... There is no escaping your destiny."

He babbled, his words filled with drink, but he was serious, like he had never spoken before, you could see a mix of dark emotions that burned in his brown orbits, each word, no matter how slurred it was, carried a clear truth that could not be said aloud by several taboos.

His hands reached out, gripping your arms tightly. His fingers dug into your flesh, leaving small red marks.

"Don't forget this... You would never lie to your Uncle right? I will protect you... Incluso si es de ti mismo."

He leaned closer, his breathing heavy and laced with the smell of whiskey.

"But I will also punish you if you disobey me."

He let go of you then, frowning as he looked at the marks he had left on your arms.

"Go to bed now."

He mumbled, turning away from you and stumbling towards the door.

"Sleep well, my precious boy."

His voice was filled with alcohol, spite and a twisted desire ── the latter making his gaze linger on you for a moment longer, as he staggered out, ignoring everything and everyone around him, you tried to ignore the burning in your stomach, a mixture of fear and a bittersweet heat near your stomach, you were maybe just very tired... Right? You pushed away the thoughts that consumed your mind, trying to grab the fog of sleep that you tried to achieve, you hoped for a good day... But little did you know what fateful destiny had planned.

You woke up to your parents cleaning the house, it was a hot and irritating Sunday, you woke up sweaty and to the loud sounds of rooms being dragged from one place to another ── you really didn't want to be there, so your father told you to go to your uncle Miguel's house, even though you insisted on saying the opposite, that you could handle the chaos at home and help them, but your parent just repeated the phrase and sent you to keep O'Hara company at his house.

Everything would be better than facing him again.

You wore your most comfortable and cool dress for that sultry summer day ── your breasts bounced and you felt the coolness of the wind blowing beneath your legs, reaching your thighs and panties, an adorable boy, on the way to the wolf's house.

Walking under the sun until you saw Miguel's house in a rural area and away from the common neighborhood, you called his name, soon seeing the man come completely sweaty and shirtless, still wearing the same pants from yesterday, while drying his sweat of his brow, letting you into his comfort.

"Fine."

He grumbled, he turned around, taking you home without saying another word. The tension between the two of you was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words.

As you entered the house, you noticed a slight disorder. Miguel's usually immaculate house really needed some cleaning. He gestured for you to sit on the couch.

"Your father said you were coming..." He sighed with a hand on his hips as he looked at you steadily. "That's good, now we can continue our conversation from yesterday, okay? I want the truth my boy, give me your cell phone, unlocked... After all, you have nothing to hide from me right... You and Hobbie are just good friends... Right?" His voice carried that threatening and authoritarian tone again, you stuttered but when you saw your uncle's look you swallowed hard and accepted your fate, obviously you had spicy messages on your cell phone, but what could you do? Running unfortunately wasn't an option, neither was screaming, you were trapped in a spider's web, and in the possessive man's judgmental gaze.

"Now. Give it to me. Or else you know what I'm capable of."

He repeated as you handed him the electronic device ─ and it didn't take long for him to find what he was looking for... Miguel's eyes narrowed as he flipped through the messages on his phone. His grip tightened around the device, his knuckles turning white. A mixture of anger, jealousy and hurt crossed his face as he read the explicit messages and saw the intimate photos, you were really with that boy... You were doing everything behind his back.

"How dare you show your body to that piece of shit!"

His voice was laced with bitterness and disappointment. He threw the phone onto the table, the screen cracking on impact.

"Do you think you can send nudes to some random boy and get away with it?"

He took a step towards you, his expression darkening.

"Did he make you wet? Did he make you excited?" His words came out like venom, his hand shot out, grabbing your chin tightly, forcing you to look at him. Miguel's grip on his chin tightened, his fingers digging into his flesh. His angry eyes fixed on his, his expression filled with a mixture of possessiveness and pain.

"I expected everything... Except that, I'm tired, tired of just being seen as your fucking uncle... I can give you so much more than that boy ever could. I can make you scream, make you beg for more. But you need to understand that you are mine."

His voice was filled with a desperate need, a desire that was both warm and terrifying. He pressed his body against his, his erection evident through his jeans. You tried to protest again, in vain, you just felt O'Hara's thick lips on yours, it was strong, his tongue dominating his as he held you tightly. His hand guided your trembling hand to his hard, throbbing erection, pressing it against the fabric of his pants. He let out a low growl of pleasure, the sound vibrating against your lips.

"You always make me hard on boy... So fucking hard." He continued kissing you fiercely, your free hand moving to grip his waist, his fingers digging into your flesh. He pressed your body against his again, now the bulge of his pants rubbing against your thigh. The intensity of his touch and the raw desire in his eyes made your own body respond, despite the fear and confusion, it was so wrong, but it felt right at the same time.

"Do you think you can show yourself like that to anyone? Do you think there will be no consequences?"

He pushed you back, guiding you towards the couch again ─ his hands exploring your body with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

"Strip for me, baby boy. Show me that body you dared to share with someone else. Show me what only I should see."

His voice was commanding, his eyes burning of lust and anger. He watched as you hesitantly complied, removing your clothes piece by piece, revealing your naked form to him ── your dress was discarded somewhere in the room, your breasts bounced while your nipples became hard from contact with the air, your pussy was already wet, a simple kiss had done that to you.

He looks at you with admiration... All of that was for him, a banquet of the gods, he wasn't going to leave you in punishment, no matter how angelic you were, he was going to reduce you to a dumb and beautiful mess, totally broken for him.

"Look at you... So eager to please, so desperate for my touch. Did just one kiss from does your uncle get you this wet?"

A smile played at the corners of his lips as he took hold of his cell phone, opening the camera app with a sinister glint in his eyes.

"Well, since you were so willing to show yourself to that boy, I think it's only fair that I capture this moment. Don't you agree, my precious angelito?"

He positioned himself in front of you, his cock springing free from his pants. The sight of his naked arousal feels a mix of fear and excitement coursing through you. He pulled you down to your knees, his grip firm on the back of your head.

"Suck it," he commanded "Let the world see what a slut you've become."

You hesitated for a moment, the gravity of the situation sinking in. But the thought of defying him only fueled his anger further. With a mixture of trepidation and submission, you wrapped your lips around his throbbing length, your tongue swirling around his head. He groaned, his grip tightening in his hair as he began recording your submissive act.

"You look so fucking beautiful with my cock in your mouth. Such a good boy, taking it all in."

He continued to record, capturing each salacious moment as you eagerly pleasured him. The taste of his cock and the sound of his moans filled your senses, heightening your own pleasure. Your body responded, the tingling warmth between your legs growing more intense with each passing moment.

"No one else gets to taste you like this. You're my slutty boy, and I'm going to make sure everyone knows it."

He spoke as the fat and hot tip of his member hit your throat repeatedly, making you choke and connect your nose with his groin, the lack of air making you momentarily see stars as he let you breathe again.

As Miguel reached his climax, he grunted and released a hot jet of cum into your mouth. He groaned with satisfaction, feeling the pulsing sensation as he emptied himself into your mouth. The taste of his essence filled your senses, mixed with the bitter-sweet humiliation of the situation. Once he had finished, he withdrew his dick from your mouth, his grip firm on your face. He forced you to open your mouth wide, showing your dirty tongue, coated with his cum, to the camera. The sadistic glint in his eyes only intensified as he instructed you to swallow it all.

You obediently complied, gulping down his cum, heavy tears ran down your body, while his thumb pulled your cheek to show him even more of your oral cavity.

"Look at the camera....You look like a damn porn star... A filthy, little porn star."

You barely had time to react, then the man trapped you beneath him again ─ his thighs separated yours, while he looked at your cunt milking the air with so much excitement, making him laugh mockingly and dominantly ─ without prior warning, his thick cock entered your wet pussy, stretching you to your limits and causing a mixture of pain and pleasure to surge through your body. Your legs were draped over his shoulders, granting him unrestricted access to your most intimate parts.

As he thrust into you, Miguel focused the camera on your tear-streaked face, capturing every moment of your vulnerability and submission.

You were a mess of conflicting emotions, a beautiful sight to him as he reveled in his dominance over you, The desire makes you delirious, completely erasing your sense of right and wrong ── soon you find yourself thrusting your hips onto his cock, whimpering pathetically as you moan his name.

"Mmm, you're such a buen chico para mí.. such a good and beautiful pussy... You hid it from me for so long... But you showed it so easily to that bastard... You disappoint your uncle sometimes, boy."

His hand left the camera momentarily, his fingers finding your clit, caressing it in a way that made your moans intensify, he watched your reactions closely, moaning with lips parted, as he looked directly into your teary eyes.

"See, I knew you'd love this, aren't you? Oh, sí... Mierda- Eres tan apretado chico".

Then, with the peaks of moans and pounding of flesh on flesh, his grunts grew louder and more primal as he climaxed. With one final thrust, he released his hot sperm deep inside your pulsating pussy, filling you with his essence. When he pulled out, the camera captured the evidence of your intimate connection, showing the mixture of his cum and your own juices. Your pussy clenched and milked the air, aching for more even after he finished.

"You've taken all of my cum... Un buen chico para tu tio."

You couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction mixed with a tinge of shame as you watched your body respond to his touch.

He smiles at the video on his cell phone, while looking at you with a dangerous glare.

"Now you're going to be a good putito... After all, you don't want this to leak out to our family, do you?"

You had no choice, and maybe you didn't even want to... Miguel had broken you, as he always wanted, you were his now, only his.

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bedoballoons · 11 months

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Genshin Men Headcanons:

~Smacking/Pinching/Grabbing their ass in public~

CW: Suggestive themes! GN! Reader!

(Includes: Diluc, Albedo, Gorou, Tighnari, Kazuha, Aether, Xiao, Wanderer, Cyno, and Scaramouche!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Diluc:

Your imagination was getting the better of you, your courage building up as you watched your boyfriend work...serving drinks and taking orders. You had originally offered to help but he said he'd only be a moment...that was half a hour ago, but you weren't angry. Far from it actually.

It was warm in Angels share and he had taken off his jacket revealing his tight pants that happened to be...emphasizing some of his...features. He just looked so good...you bit your lip but in the end your impulses won as you stood up walking quietly behind him...without any warning you smacked his butt, hard enough to make a loud slapping noise.

His back straightening, as he whipped around staring your down with angry fire red eyes and a bright pink face, the people he had been serving chuckling slightly behind him. Before you could apologize he pulled you close, his words holding lust and anger as he spoke. "We, will deal with this later...your punishments undecided. Go. Sit down." You didn't know exactly what that meant but...you decided it best to listen quickly returning to your seat.

Albedo:

To you Albedo always looked beautiful, his shoulder length hair tied back out of his face, his clothes always neat and tidy...today however, as you walked through the crowded lecture room, you couldn't keep your eyes off of him. Was there something in the air...had he done something different? You weren't sure, all you knew was he looked absolutely gorgeous to the point you were having a difficult time keeping your hands to yourself.

This was made even more obvious as you followed him to the area beside the podium where he'd be giving his own lecture on alchemy and its uses. At first you were just going to give him a kiss for luck...but as he turned around to walk onto the stage...you couldn't help it, you slapped his ass, his back arching slightly in surprise as he gasped.

He turned to you wide eyed with a blush on his face, he was unable to say a word as he was rushed onto the stage. You couldn't help but giggle as he stood in front of the crowd his eyes darting to you as he stuttered through the first sentence...you might end up paying for that later.

Gorou:

You blushed slightly, your eyes on your boyfriends fluffy tail as you walked through the crowded festival, his hand holding yours tightly, tugging you happily along. You couldn't help but smile at him, he had been so nice, inviting you, buying you your favourite treats and his laugh was contagious.

If only you could take your mind off more...suggestive topics and fully enjoy the festivities, but that simply wasn't in the cards for you. Gorou paused in front of one of the concessions stand, his tail wagging in excitement as he looked at all the different fireworks,....you couldn't help it. He just looked so cute...you walked up next to him, your hand reaching down grabbing his butt softly.

He yelped in surprise, his face turning bright red as he tried to hide his blush with his hands, his ears flattening and his tail straightening. You chuckled, telling the cashier who thankfully wasn't paying much attention, you'd take two dog shaped fireworks. Considering the reaction he had...you just might do it again.

Tighnari:

Tighnari smiled slightly, occasionally mustering up a wave at students of the akademiya he had previously went to school with. The only reason he was here after all was for a renuinion with some of the other graduates...and the only reason he had even decided to attend was because of you.

Originally you had said it would be good to socialise with some of his old friends...but you also had other intentions, seeing as he had taken a opportunity like this prior to completely embarrass you in front of some of your friends. You vividly remembered how he had come up behind you kissing your neck while warning your friends you were taken. Revenge was going to be sweet...

You waited, a small crowd gathering around your boyfriend as they all spoke of their achievements and compared their latest experiments. A small mischievous smirk finding its way onto your face as stood just a bit closer to him, you could barely stop yourself giggling as you pinched his right cheek.

He jumped gasping in surprise as he looked behind him, a bright pink blush painting his face before his eyes landed on you and he pieced it all together. He crossed his arms, his schoolmates asking what happened and you just smiling, your plan worked. He'd most likely get you back later and you simply couldn't wait.

Kazuha:

You looked around the harbour, your eyes darting between the different salesmen of Liyue and the people walking by, each going about their normal everyday lives. Kazuha would say it was poetic and as you glanced at him, his small figure leaning slightly over the railing of the harbour to look at the fish swimming in the sea, you couldn't help but agree with him.

You blushed slightly as you looked him up and down, you truly felt so lucky. He was so handsome, his white hair pulled back in a ponytail gently blowing in the wind, and his red eyes scanning the waters...you sighed contemplating internally if it would it be wrong to show off a little...you bit your lip...stepping closer

Just one touch couldn't hurt...you silently said to yourself as you wrapped a arm around his waist, making him straighten for a second and you lost all control your hand grabbing his ass as he quietly moaned his face blushing heavily as he looked around. "W-what was that?"

"...I couldn't help myself"

Aether:

Why did he have to look so fine...his pants hugging all the right areas, his usual blonde braid having a few strings of hair loose that framed his face beautifully, and most of all the soft blush on his cheeks from the workout of his training. Your heart couldn't stop racing as you watched him, each movement he made making you want him more and more.

Maybe he was teasing you...well if he was...it was working, especially as he walked over to you, wiping a thin layer of sweat from his forehead. His lips moving as he spoke, but you couldn't concentrate on the words, it took him waving his hand in front of your face and calling your name for you to understand he was asking for a drink of water.

"Are you okay? You were really spaced out...I can take a break and we can eat something. Maybe your hungry?" His words were caring, and maybe you were a little hungry...just not for food. You shook your head, but he didn't seem to believe you as he turned around bending over to pick up a training dummy he had knocked over.

That's when you couldn't take it a second longer, you stood up smacking his ass...harder than you meant to. He moaned jumping back, his face redder than you had ever seen it as the noise alone drew the attention of all the knights who had been training in the area. You went to apologise but Aether was ahead of you, pulling you close to him having no shame as he kissed you deeply.

Xiao:

You looked at Xiao, his clothes wet from the downpour that had started only moments ago, forcing you to run into the nearest roofed building which happened to be a restaurant. The food smelled delicious, but it was the last thing on your mind...

Your attention was fully on your Yaksha boyfriend, his normally cream white shirt now see through...his pants clinging to his body and his hair flattened slightly against his face. You could see his muscular figure through the wet clothing and it was more than enough to make you blush.

Even as he started to speak with someone about sitting there for a few minutes you couldn't take your eyes off him...especially his ass...it was so highlighted by the clingy clothing you just wanted to...to touch it. You stood next to him, checking behind you before acting on your desires and touching his lower back.

You watched with a small smirk as he instantly straightened, his yellow eyes darting to you wondering just what you were up to. He didn't have to wait long to find out as your hand traveled slowly down to his butt, harshly grabbing it.

You watched in satisfaction as he gasped, his face turning pink as the person he had been speaking to asked him what was wrong. You simply winked at him knowing full well he'd punish you for it later...and you would enjoy it.

Wanderer:

Wanderer looked at you, slightly annoyed as he twirled slightly, his normal outfit replaced by something basically identical...except the shorts were a bit shorter than normal. "These shorts are tighter fitting. You must have measured wrong...idiot." His words sounding just as rude as ever but you didn't mind...you were enjoying the view after all.

"I didn't measure wrong,...it's probably just because they're not the exact same materials. Don't worry though...you look ver nice~" You spoke with a flirty tone, looking him up and down in a obvious way. You watched as his face blushed, his brows furrowing as he glanced at the people picking up their own garments not far from you.

"Quiet." He said under his breath, but being quiet wasn't currently in your vocabulary as you kneeled beside him, taking your measuring tape out of your pocket. He stood still and you took this perfect opportunity to use the numbered tape as a excuse. Lining it up just above his ass before gently pinching his right cheek.

You felt almost proud as he whipped around pulling you by your shirt up to his face, his blush now tomato red as he glared at you. You giggled quietly peeking over his shoulder at the people behind him, you couldn't help but whisper to him, "People are watching...later~"

Cyno:

Scaramouche:

Cyno held you close, his movements slightly clumsy as he attempted to stay on beat to the music, it had been your idea to take a class with Nilou about dancing and you weren't regretting it in the slightest as you moved your body against his. Each class was another chance to be close to your boyfriend and bond with him...over something other than joke which you loved but got a little tiring sometimes.

You giggled as you spun him, originally it was supposed to be you spinning but you'd gotten dizzy to the point of falling over and he agreed it would be best if he took a turn. He spun gracefully before pulling you close to him, your face instantly heating up as a idea crawled into your mind....

You surveyed the area, the other couples all seemingly busy trying to keep up with the moves and each other. "Is something wrong? I didn't step on your foot right...that would be toetally bad." His voice was slightly concerned but the pun still made you smile, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on his lips as you nodded.

Your hand slid down from its position on his waist downwards, his eyes widening slightly as he stared at you, and you winked at him, pinching his ass. Watching in sheer delight as he jumped, his face blushing a dark red and his hand grabbing yours, holding while he contemplated just what punishment he should give for your indecency...

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You watched Scara intently, the way he put his hands on his hips when he got frustrated with someone and how he smirked when someone doubted his intelligence then found out he was smarter than them ten fold. His small figure illuminated by the dim lights of the fatui hideout and his eyes always having a slightly menacing theme to them.

Your heart skipped a beat as he looked at you, catching you staring, before...to your disappointment, simply rolling his eyes and continuing to boss lackeys around. You wanted his attention...and you couldn't help it anymore, you bit your lip slightly, looking around the room for anyway to catch his gaze again.

Yet again your eyes landed on him, this time however it was on his perfect ass, plush and soft...he was your boyfriend after all. There was nothing wrong with it and if it got his attention on you for a little it would be worth it. You wondered what consequences there would be...but quickly shrugged them away. Your mind already made up as you walked away from your spot against the wall.

You snuck as carefully as you could behind him, without a single regret, you slapped his ass your palm stinging for a second. You watched as he moaned out loud, turning to you with furious rage in his eyes and the deepest blush you had ever seen on him. You giggled before sprinting away...you knew he'd catch you but that was half the fun...

~Requests Open~

A/N: Sorry this is so late!! Also should I make any genshin female HCs?

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hanasnx · 3 months

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MINORS DNI 18+

ANAKIN SKYWALKER who pissed you the fuck off. Who’s earned himself a one-way trip to the doghouse. Who tries to talk his way through the silent treatment, everything from questions to pleas to shouting. You won’t have it, and it kills him to be ignored.

“Well, fine! Be that way.” he announces loudly throughout the house, storming to the opposite side to leave you completely alone. He punishes you for being upset with him, for needing space from him. Your unhealthy response is met with his in poetic turn.

He sleeps by himself that night. Even though sleep is inaccessible, he lies on his back with his arms crossed over his chest. The delicate crease in his brow has deepened to a permanent crevice, scowling at the light fixture in the ceiling. He can’t even recall exactly what caused this disruption and he certainly doesn’t believe it’s his fault. Whatever stance he took that offended you is clearly his private beliefs and you should’ve respected that. His metal fingers tap in a wave across his bicep, and he picks up his head to glance at the doorway of the living room as if you would be there to greet him. No such thing. You’re probably fast asleep in the comforts of your shared bed, the bed you so carelessly kicked him out of.

The couch is uncomfortable. The material is smooth but naturally cold against his bare back and his thin black pants. He’s used to his many covers, and a body next to him.

A warm, smooth body. He misses it. Soft and creamy in texture, he misses the way it winds around him. But you’re being difficult. As if you’re a princess, every interaction between the two of you has been scrutinized with extreme prejudice by your judgmental eyes. You questioned his every move towards you, every touch, every word. Your wrath knew no bounds and now he’s cold and alone and it’s your fault. He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t want you near him, holding him, running your hands through his hair. He doesn’t want your massages that release muscle tensions he didn’t even know he had, he doesn’t want your kind smile against his ear as you whisper your dirty little secrets, he doesn’t want your experienced hand running down the hair at his abdomen to caress him through his sleepwear.

You’ve had a prissy little attitude he could fuck out of you, if he wanted to. His grip on his bicep tightens, sharp spite taking root within his heart as he curses himself in Huttese. There’s a dirty word he’d like to call you right now, he’d like to sneer it in your face in a language you can’t understand just so you can be offended without reason. It’ll give you a taste of the betrayal’s he’s felt this night.

The chaise he lays on is not long enough for his body, his bare feet hang off the arm rest, and he shifts so he can plant them there. Once properly leveraged, he straightens his legs so he pushes himself up to more of a sit as a sneer twitches at the corner of his nose. He has half a mind to go disturb you while you peacefully slumber, interrupt you with his jealousy over your comfort and demand that if you have a problem with him that you should be the one to leave. You’d fit on this useless couch anyway. A yelling match would surely ensue; he’d be able to raise his voice over yours and finally make you understand his point of view. You’d be so eager to make it up to him, so keen to please him that you’d do anything, wouldn’t you? Pondering its possibilities has his left hand lured to the sudden ache between his legs.

You’d be so broken up over how coldly you’ve treated him, you’d spoil him. You’d pamper him with apologies and compliments he’d ignore, you’d beg to rub his sore shoulders and arms so that he’d look at you again. Kisses would be planted wherever you could reach, and he’d direct you with a palm on your head to where your lips belong. Sweetly you’d worship on his manhood, coaxing him to attention with patience and enthusiasm until he’s ready to free it. Wouldn’t matter how long he’d let you perform for him, you wouldn’t say a word about rushing him. Briefly, he considers the notion that you’d let him bat it against your cheek, and rub it on your face. He’d hump your head just to see the thick mix of fluids coat your pretty features. If he’s feeling particularly vengeful, he might fuck your throat with the intent to hurt, the intent to choke. You’d have to campaign for his mercy by flattering for his ego because if you’re too pitiful he’ll be too inclined to suffocate you with his every inch plugging your airway. Big hands at the back of your head to keep you pinned while you sputter and spray around his base. Your mess of stringy saliva would dribble down his balls and catch on the hair on his thighs.

A noise of the house creaks and his eyes fly open. His hand has come to caress himself, balled around his solid shaft that pulses with need. He can practically feel the blood pump through it, the sensitive skin burning for relief as he’s rawed it against the material of his pants.

He pushes through the discomfort, and plunges the hand down his waistband, fisting his red hot cock with a callused grasp.

#indy: drabbles #ch: anakin #anakin skywalker drabble #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin smut #anakin x reader #anakin x fem reader #anakin x you #anakin x y/n #anakin imagine #anakin fic #anakin fanfiction #reader insert

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onlyjaeyun · 11 months

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[ 12:45pm ] 𝙨𝙞𝙢 𝙟𝙖𝙚𝙮𝙪𝙣 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙥𝙪𝙨𝙨𝙮 𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙝𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙖𝙨𝙩!𝙮𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙚, 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮, 𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜

"your nose is so pretty."

you find yourself mumbling at your boyfriend before your brain can even overthink those words and yet you're glad you didn't hesitate.

there's absolutely no reaction from jaeyun for a whole minute as you absentmindedly trace his sharp features with your fingers, not quite able to handle just how handsome he is.

you've been observing his side profile for a while now and every time your eyes found their way to his nose, you couldn't help but bite your bottom lip at the mental image of its tip nudging against your clit whenever he's got his face buried in your cunt.

jaeyun's been playing his video game for about an hour now and despite wanting to give him some space, you simply couldn't resist the craving of being close to him.

it's not like he minds your presence at all; jaeyun loves having your legs in his lap and your hand in his hair, playing with the soft strands as he enjoys his daily screen time away from all of his responsibilities.

usually you're quick to fall asleep, yet this time you seem to focused on him to even let the actual thought of sleep cross your mind.

you know it's because you can't stop thinking about your boyfriends plump lips, his hot tongue and his perfect nose, your head full of thoughts about how good he makes you cum over and over again once he's gotten a taste.

whereas jaeyun remains absolutely clueless. he's also a little too focused to pay complete attention to your words but he does appreciate your conpliment a lot. growing up it's always been a little difficult for him to like his nose since it's on the bigger side and not quite what people necessarily find attractive, until the two of you started dating and you've made it your mission to let him know just how perfect he is.

jaeyun places a quick kiss of gratitude into your palm before he pushes his lips into a thoughtful pout and focuses on his game again, not realising how much you've been pressing your thighs together in hopes of releasing some of the pressure on your needy cunt.

there's just something about the way he scratches the sides of his nose whenever he's slowly getting excited, poking the inside of his cheeks with his tongue and nibbling on his lip like he's purposely trying to torture you.

"yunie", you mumble and reach for his hand, grateful he's quick to play into your neediness as he grabs your inner thigh and gently strokes your skin, "i wanna ride your face, please."

usually you're not one to be this bold with your requests but after watching him for the past hour it's been incredibly hard for you to maintain your composure and even your patience has limits.

jake is absolutely stunned at your words. for a second he's not sure if he even heard you right, giving you a double take just to realise your current state.

eyes glossy, lips pushed into the cutest pout, thigh firmly pressed together and your cute nipples poking through the fabric of your pyjama shirt to the point where not a single thought is left to imagination.

just out of curiosity jaeyun lets his hand wander in between your legs, gulping harshly at the way they fall apart like you've been waiting to be relieved and once his fingers graze your soaked panties, he knows exactly why you're reacting the way you do.

without even missing another beat, jake throws his controller as well as his headset to the side, turning his game off and almost instantly laying on his side of the bed.

"i'm sorry for not realising sooner, baby", he whispers as you shakily make your way to straddle his handsome face, his cheeks and lips tinted in the sweetest shade of pink, "there you go, good girl."

his praise elicits a soft whimper from your throat, your hole clenching in absolute despair and the second the tip of his nose grazes your flesh, you throw your head back with a loud moan of relief.

"fuck, baby", jake grunts against your cunt, his tongue lapping up your sweet juices and if it wasn't for his tight grip on your waist, you would have thought he passed out, "you're so wet for me, angel girl, so perfect."

all you can do is whimper in response, grabbing a fistful of his dark hair and grinding yourself against his tongue, whining every time his nose nudges your hardened clit.

"that's why you love my nose so much, hm?", jake smiles and pushes his tongue inside of your clenching hole, groaning and moaning against your wet flesh like a man gone mad.

"mhm, y-yes", you whisper and feel the sweet sensation of your release climbing up your spine in the sweetest way possible, "love sitting on it."

and for a moment jake's movements stop, as he appreciates your sweet compliment, head cloudy from all the arousal floading his brain and his cheeks burning from excitement.

"that's my good girl", he grunts and finally wraps his lips around your sensitive clit before he pushes the tip of his tongue against the nub and applies just the right amount of pressure, making sure to have you cum all over his face to make you feel as lover and appreciated as he does.

#enhypen smut #sim jaeyun smut #enha smut #enha hard hours #jaeyun hard hours #jake hard hours #; angel boy #; drabbles

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highvern · 6 months

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Jealousy

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x reader

Genre: angst? humor, idiots in love

Warnings: jealous reader, mingyu is kinda an fboy but not really, Seungkwan is a readerxmingyu stan, alcohol mention

Length: ~1.5k

Note: another Drunk Goggles prequel! its a twin piece to bite the bullet bc they're both dumb jealous idiots but this is still very early on in their relationship.

If looks could kill then the nameless girl chatting with Mingyu at the bar, tracing her manicured nails down his bicep as she giggles obscenely, would be six feet under by now.

She technically isn’t doing anything wrong; you and Mingyu aren’t a couple, you have no right to be upset when someone flirts with him. It's a given that someone as handsome and charming as him has a line of people bidding for his attention. But it doesn’t stop your mood from turning to shit when it happens. Frowning into your watered down drink, you swallow the remaining liquid, wincing against the bitterness. If you’re gonna watch people throw themselves at him tonight you’re definitely going to need something stronger than what’s in your cup.

You make your way to the far end of the bar, away from Mingyu and his new “friend,” ordering yourself two shots of tequila to extinguish the fury igniting your veins. The burn of liquor hurts far less than what you witness from the corner of your eye. Mingyu’s back is to you, obscuring his face but not the face of Yeji or Yeri or whatever her name was. She’s smiling at him coyly, blinking up from under her lashes as she leans a little too far into his personal bubble. Mingyu is an idiot if he can’t tell how much this girl wants him to take her home. Her less than subtle squeeze of his bicep sends your eyes rolling and an indignant scoff living your throat. You’ve seen more than enough.

Pushing away from the sticky wooden surface with a new drink in your hand, you creep back towards the table your friends are spread around. Luckily, most are either caught in conversation and don’t notice your tense expression or they’re kind enough to ignore it.

Keyword: most.

Jihyo hones in on your attitude change in zero seconds. And because she is about as subtle as a bull in a China shop, she jumps up to snag your hand and pull you towards the bathroom without a word before anyone else can say anything (re: Seungkwan who is about to kick Mingyu’s ass on your behalf).

“Mingyu’s an idiot.” Jihyo states calmly once she’s locked the door.

She watched Yerin approach Mingyu at the bar and knew the second you saw there would be a meltdown. Jihyo won’t judge you, she never does. But she will wring Mingyu’s neck the next time he comes to her for advice about you. This was definitely not something she would have suggested to him.

“I’m not upset!” You cry, but it’s no use.

“Oh please,” she snorts. “I saw you at the bars. You only drink tequila when your feelings are hurt.”

“He can do what he wants, it’s not like we’re dating.”

“So? You like him, he likes you. If he’s gonna act like a dick in the meantime then he should have at least done it where you wouldn’t have seen.”

“If he likes me so much, why is he flirting with some girl?” You warble.

The tears forming in the corners of your eyes are sponsored by shitty tequila and a long island iced tea.

"Because he’s a dumbass.” She raises her voice. “He adores you, but he’s a dumbass.”

“He can adore my foot up his ass.”

“He probably would.” She contemplates.

You snort. Jihyo knows exactly how to make you feel better.

“If you wanna go home, I’ll come with you. I hate this bar.”

“No you don’t, but I appreciate it.”

“Alright then, can we please get out of here?”

“Yeah, it smells like vomit.” Your face twists as you dab away the tears on your cheeks.

“I thought that was just you.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.” Jihyo argues. “Now, let's go show him what he's missing!”

You raise an eyebrow but leave the cramped space nonetheless.

It's difficult to hide your shock when you approach the table and find Mingyu getting an earful from Seungkwan. You can’t make out what he’s saying but Seungkwan's face is red with either alcohol or anger (probably the latter given the way he’s gripping Mingyu’s collar). Mingyu’s eyes are wide in fear as he’s shaken to and fro by the younger man.

But when Mingyu sees you approach over his friend’s shoulder, the fright melts away, leaving a beaming drunken smile. It’s really hard to be pissed off when he looks like a puppy whose owner just came home. Seungkwan looks around to see what interrupted his lecture to find you staring inquisitively, to which he just rolls his eyes before settling back in his seat, diving into the heated exchange between Jeonghan and Chan.

Mingyu throws an arm around the back of your chair after you settle next to him. His fingertips trace the peak of skin next to the strap of your tank top, raising goosebumps and evaporating the rigidness in your posture immediately. Damn him.

“Missed you.” He mumbles close to your ear.

This time your eye roll is obvious. Mingyu thinks you're being playful but you remember how he was pinned to the bar only a few minutes ago and steam is threatening to pour out your ears again.

“Seems like you had decent company.” Your words are pointed and the way his eyes grow wide and his smile drops almost makes you feel guilty.

“Yerin?” He furrows his brows, “She was nice but not really my type.”

“Pretty girls aren’t your type?”

“Not when they aren’t you.”

The smirk on his face is lazy and confident. Knowing Mingyu, he’d high five himself if he was less trashed.

A cough covers what suspiciously sounds like a snort on the other side of his seat where Seungkwan is.

You bite your tongue against the scoff in the back of your throat. Mingyu’s got balls, you’ll give him that. But if he thinks he can flirt with you right after letting someone feel him up where everyone can see then he has another thing coming.

“You think I’m pretty, Gyu?” Your voice is sickeningly sweet, encouraging Mingyu to fall into your trap.

You turn towards him, letting your eyelids lower and lips pout. One of your hands drops to his thigh as you twist to see him better. It's exactly what Yerin was doing to him earlier but you can immediately tell that he is much more receptive to your antics than he was to hers.

The shock on Mingyu’s face makes you wish for a camera. It’s an effort to keep from laughing when his jaw falls open as his gaze follows the pattern your hand traces on his knee. You’ve never touched him like this before, but if this is how he reacts you’re more than happy to continue.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “The prettiest.”

You hum in acknowledgement. Mingyu is free flowing with compliments whether he’s drunk or sober but it always leaves you breathless.

“Prettier than Yerin?” It’s petty but you’re feeling the shots you downed and logical thought isn’t your priority.

His face has moved into the crook of your neck, chin resting gently on your collarbone, sigh ruffling your hair as he gets cozy in the warm space and allows his nose to trace the curve of your shoulder.

“Absolutely.” His lips tracing the word on your skin makes you shiver.

“Then why’d you spend all night talking to her instead of me?”

Disappointment seeps into your voice; as much as you deny it, he’s hurt your feelings and wounded your pride.

“I—,” Mingyu swallows.

“Hmm?” You’re being mean but he started it.

“Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” you coo in his ear. “Looked like you were having fun.”

“Have more fun with you.” He’s stuttering, flustered at how easily the words slip from between his lips.

“Where’d she go anyway?” You turn your head to locate her but she's nowhere to be seen.

“Don’t know,” Mingy rasps, mind focusing more on the way your nails tickle the inside of his knee through the fabric of his jeans than your questions. “Don’t care.”

“Don’t be mean.” You chide.

“I really don’t though.”

“Well, Jihyo and I were thinking about heading out.” You feign a yawn. “It’s late.”

At the sound of your threat, Mingyu is immediately up out of your neck and staring at you with puppy eyes.

“But you just sat down!” He pouts.

“I’ve been here for hours.” You mirror his expression. “I’m tired, Gyu.”

“I haven’t gotten to talk to you all night!”

Hook.

“Maybe you can talk to Yerin again.” You smile with venom in your eyes.

Line.

The shock on Mingyu’s face informs you that he is now realizing how much he fucked up.

Sinker.

“Bye, Gyu.” You coo sweetly, giving his thigh one last squeeze.

Jihyo watched the entire scene play out much to her own horror. She’s ready to go the second you stand, preparing the lecture of a lifetime once you're on the way home. But the shit eating grin on your face makes her proud.

What you two don't see is Seungkwan leaning over to whisper a “told you so” in Mingyu’s directions as they both watch you walk towards the exit and into the night.

#svthub #kim mingyu #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfic #svt imagines #svt fluff #seventeen fic #svt fanfic #svt x reader #🫡 highvern #dghe couple

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7-wonders · 8 months

Text

Wishful Drinking

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x GN!Reader

Summary: After Morpheus cruelly dismisses you, you decide that you'll get back at him by staying out of the Dreaming one night for as long as you can. What you don't anticipate is letting your feelings get the best of you and getting very drunk instead.

Or, drunk shenanigans galore!

Word Count: 3.5k

Author's Note: I don't know what this is, y'all. I haven't written anything in more than a month, and it was so tough to even write this, but I wanted to write SOMETHING. As always, hope you enjoyed, let me know your thoughts, and likes, comments, and reblogs make my world go round.

ALSO! Dream logic applies here, in that you're still drunk when you reach the Dreaming.

Listen.

You know that certain coping mechanisms, like, say, going out clubbing with your friends and getting crazy drunk for the first time in a long time, aren’t exactly healthy. But things have been difficult for you lately! You’ve been struggling a lot, in both your professional and personal life. These hardships are only compounded by the fact that the one person (or person-shaped being) in your life that you thought you could count on, your Morpheus, has been too busy to have time for you.

Literally. He said those exact words to you a mere three days ago, when you had found him in his personal study (a study that he almost never used) after what felt like a day spent chasing him around the Dreaming. You meant for it to come out as teasing when you took note of the fact that you hardly saw him around lately and that it felt like he was purposefully avoiding you, but he had sighed and glared at you before saying, “I have much to do, and I am far too busy to entertain you right now.”

You glowered, but, as he said, he was too busy to see it. Fine, you thought as you turned around and stalked out of his study. Leave him to his business.

Cut to today. When your friends asked if you wanted to go out with them, you almost said no, having gotten accustomed in the past couple of months to the routine of going to bed by nine o’clock in order to maximize time spent in your lover’s realm. But then, the more you thought about it, the more you realized that you didn’t want to just continue sitting around in the Dreaming and hoping that Morphues would come out of whatever funk he was in. After all, why should you make an effort when he won’t? You’re not about to beg for his attention.

With that in mind, you texted back that you very much wanted to go out with them and proceeded to get ready for a fun night out.

The plan was to have a couple of drinks, dance for a bit, and stay out of the Dreaming just long enough to make Morpheus sweat a bit.

But then shots had been ordered.

And your friend bought you a drink because they knew you had had a tough week.

And you bought yourself two drinks.

And a group of guys bought you another round of shots, and though you all laughed at the fact that they were not getting anything out of this, you still took them because you weren’t about to turn down free alcohol.

This leads to you and your friends stumbling out of a bar at two in the morning, holding each other up as you do. Definitely not the plan, but what’s that one quote about plans and mice and men?

“What about a mouse?” your friend asks from beside you, making you realize that you said that out loud.

“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” you say.

Somehow, you make it into a Lyft (thank the gods for friends who don’t get carried away), and somehow, you make it into your home. Not without its difficulties–you dropped your keys multiple times on the walk to your front door, and there might be a you-shaped indent in the entryway wall from where you fell into it when trying to kick your shoes off.

When you reach your bedroom, you decide that actually, the floor looks comfier than your bed does. You’re so drunk that the room feels like it’s spinning when you lay down, and you close your eyes to enjoy the ride.

“Fuck, I’m so drunk right now,” you say out loud, laughing at the sound of your slurred words.

You don’t mean to fall asleep, really. You know that you need to crawl to the bathroom to wash your face and find enough dexterity to change clothes before hopefully sobering up just enough that you can make it to the kitchen to grab painkillers and water for the inevitable killer hangover you’re going to have tomorrow. The floor is just so soft, though, and you work yourself into a trance-like state by staring up at the ceiling fan and watching it go around and around and around. On one blink, you’re staring at your ceiling.

And on the next, you’re staring at another ceiling, one that’s not really a ceiling at all, but an entire galaxy above your head.

It’s easy to get lost in the magnificent colors swirling above you (especially in your current state), and you do, until you hear someone calling your name. When you look away from the universe, you see the love of your life looking at you, though at present, he is not reciprocating the heart eyes that you are always looking at him with.

“Where have you been?” Morpheus demands.

“Morpheus, my love!” You throw your arms out and grin. “I’ve missed you.”

“Do you have any idea how worried I have been? I sent Matthew to find you hours ago when first you were late, only for him to report that he could not find you at your home.” You’re a little surprised that Matthew hadn’t managed to track you down; your little raven friend was almost scarily good at finding people/places/things.

“Aw, you’ve missed me?” It makes sense, of course; after all, you’ve missed him, so it’s only natural that he would miss you in return. Still, the sentiment makes you feel all warm and melty on the inside.

It’s obvious to anybody who actually takes the time to know Morpheus—a tiny list of people and beings, two of whom are in the room with him right now—that he’s fighting a war between wanting to scold you and wanting to hold you and check you up and down for wounds. Morpheus crosses the room towards you, and you ready yourself for the inevitable lecture you’re about to get, about how you’re just a fragile little human and he worries every moment that you’re away from him (y’know, now that you have the clarity of a drunk person, you’re actually annoyed that this is constantly coming from the being that’s meant to be your lover).

But that’s not what happens.

Instead, you find his arms wrapped tightly around you and his face buried in your neck. He’s hugging you, not the other way around. He’s never done such a thing before, and you don’t know how to react. What you do know is that any of the residual anger you had been feeling drains out of you like water from an unstoppered bathtub. You really didn’t think that being away for—the math isn’t mathing for you currently, and you don’t actually know how long it’s been—a couple of hours would affect him this much.

“You are the one most dear to my heart,” he mutters into your ear, cognizant of the fact that you are not alone in this throne room. “Of course, I missed you.”

“Oh. When you said you were ‘too busy to entertain’ me, I just kinda assumed you wouldn’t notice I was gone.” Though you don’t mean to weaponize your words, the poison darts make contact with their target anyway, and Morpheus stiffens in your hold.

“Are you alright?” he asks instead, choosing to wait until a later time to have this particular conversation.

“Aw, dream boy” you coo, snaking a hand up to clumsily run it through his hair. “I’m okay baby, swear it! Like, absolutely, one hundred percent fine.”

Morpheus pulls away from you so that he can look you up and down to confirm that you really are okay. “You smell like a pub,” he notes.

“How can you tell that in the Dreaming?”

He ignores your question when a realization seems to hit him. “Are you inebriated?”

“No, I’m drunk,” you correct very matter-of-factly.

“That is–” he stops, choosing instead to just shake his head.

“Oh, dear,” Lucienne mutters from behind Morpheus, reminding you of her presence in the first place.

“Lucienne! Hi! How have you been!”

You crane around Morpheus to be able to see your favorite librarian, but you almost fall over in the process. Before you can tip too far over, Morpheus is there to right you again. When he does, he looks down at you with quite the serious expression on his perfect face.

“Who did this to you?” he asks, ready to punish whoever put you in such a state.

“Vodka. Rum, maybe?” You think back on your drinks for the evening, though it’s hard to think back that far. “Yeah, the second round of shots was definitely rum.”

“You put yourself in this state?”

“Yes?” Has Morpheus never heard of the concept of going out and getting shitfaced with your pals? “To be fair, I didn’t think that my drunkenness would…” You search for the word that you want to use, but it’s just not coming to you! “Uh, carry over?”

“Please tell me you managed to make it home safely?”

You nod. “Sure did! Pretty sure I fell asleep on the floor, though.”

Lucienne slowly begins to back up towards the door, and Morpheus stares at you for a long moment before sighing heavily.

“Are you mad at me?” you ask nervously, starting to get upset the longer the silence drags on. Did you say something that you shouldn’t have? Is there a rule you don’t know about against sleeping on floors?

Instead of answering you, Morpheus waves a hand in the air and says, “This dream is over.”

You’re awake and once again staring up at your ceiling fan, only this time, Morpheus is also in your line of sight. It’s impossible to stop yourself from touching him when you’re sober, so it’s not at all surprising that your hands go up to caress his face now when you’re drunk.

“Hi cutie,” you greet, laughing in delight when he flushes just the slightest amount.

He grabs your hands and kisses the back of both before setting them against your chest. “Why are you sleeping on your floor?”

“Because,” is your simple, childish reply.

“That is not a good answer.”

“It’s the one you get because it’s the one I have.” You throw in a peace sign to be extra spicy, but Morpheus, unfortunately, doesn’t comprehend your 21st-century humor, and instead just segues into the next order of business.

“Might I help you up, so that we can get you properly ready for bed?”

“But I’m comfy,” you groan. Morpheus is not buying what you’re selling, unfortunately, so you sigh. “Fine.”

Morpheus holds his hands out for you to take and helps you to your feet. Too fast, apparently, because the room begins to spin and your stomach tilts dangerously, making you clap a hand over your mouth.

“Oh no. Dizzy, dizzy, dizzy,” you chant, squeezing your eyes shut and laying your head against Morpheus’s shoulder while you try to breathe through sudden nausea. You will not throw up on your super hot eldritch nightmare king boyfriend, you command yourself. Not tonight, and not ever.

“What is wrong?” Morpheus sounds panicked, and you want to reassure him, but you hold up a finger in the meantime.

When the nausea finally passes, you take a deep breath and slowly look up. “Okay, I think I’m good now.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Sometimes drinking too much combined with moving too fast makes people feel sick. It’s my fault, but I’ll be okay.”

“Are you well enough to move?”

“Yes, I promise.”

To prove your point, you let go of his hand and start walking heel to toe as the police require during field sobriety tests (honestly, you’re a little surprised that you can actually do this right now). You can practically feel your lover's amusement behind you, but it proves to him that you are capable. Morpheus lets you walk to the bathroom on your own power, and you think the only reason he doesn’t sweep you off your feet is because he’s worried you’ll throw up if he does. He watches you intently the entire time, though.

You sit on the lip of the bathtub, watching Morpheus move about your bathroom as though he knows where everything is; he probably does, you realize, whether it be from that endless wealth of knowledge about everyone and everything that he possesses, or just his familiarity with your home. After rummaging around for a few moments, he comes back with a washcloth and your favorite pajamas. The sight of the familiar material makes you tear up, and you sniffle loudly.

Morpheus looks up in alarm. “Are you okay?”

“You remembered my favorite pajamas,” you say, trying to not start crying. You can count on one hand the number of times he’s come directly to see you off to his realm, and you’ve probably worn those pajamas twice. Yet he remembered the one-off comment you had made about how they were your favorite because of course he did.

His face softens. “Of course I did.”

You clear your throat and wipe your eyes. “Sorry. I’m okay! Just drunk.”

Morpheus hands you said pajamas before turning the faucet on and letting the water run. He seems to realize something after a moment and looks at you helplessly. “I do not feel temperature as you do. Is the water alright?”

You grin and stick your hand under the faucet, moving the tap just a smidge hotter before nodding at him. “It’s good now. Thank you for asking.”

He begins to run the damp washcloth gently over your face, a barely-there smile appearing on his own when you wrinkle your nose at the cool sensations. Where this situation would be awkward with anybody else, it feels entirely natural with Morpheus. You’ll take these little moments of domesticity with him whenever you can get them, even when you’re still half drunk.

Even if you wanted to, you can’t hold yourself back from saying, “You’re so beautiful, do you know that? Seriously, you’re the prettiest man-slash-anthropomorphic-personification I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” The words are heavy on your tongue, but you’re pretty proud of the way you only barely stumble through ‘anthropomorphic’.

“You are still under the influence,” he notes.

“So? Drunk words equal sober thoughts, right?”

“‘A drunk mind speaks a sober heart.’ Jean-Jacques Rosseau,” he supplies.

“Sure, that. I’d tell you how pretty you are even if I was sober, and you know that.”

“Perhaps.” He says it in that infuriatingly sexy way of his, the one that makes you want to tear his clothes off.

Instead, you’re the one taking your own clothes off, though not for any fun reason. Getting changed is not as difficult a task as it would have been when you first arrived home, with the benefit of time naturally sobering one up on your side. Morpheus still keeps a hand held out, just in case you lose your balance and need something to grab onto, but after you’ve finished changing, that hand slips under your shirt and caresses your side.

“Thought you were supposed to be helping me keep my clothes on,” you say with a shiver, grabbing his wrist and pulling the offending extremity out from under your shirt.

“Apologies.” His tone implies that he’s not sorry at all, not that you would want him to be. “I simply couldn’t resist.”

He looks down at you with so much love in those blue eyes of his that you feel like you don’t think your mortal mind could ever truly comprehend it. Nobody has ever loved you the way that Morpheus has—all-consuming and passionate. He told you once that many of his relationships had ended because he had been seen as too intense, too obsessive in his love. Bring it on, you had told him when he expected you to back down. To date, you haven’t regretted that.

You don’t think you ever will.

Now that you can see the end of your night in sight, tiredness begins to seep into your bones. Though your bed is just right through the bathroom door, it feels miles away. With that in mind, you ask, “Will you carry me?”

“Were you not worried that you would feel sick?”

“Yeah, but I’m tired.” You pout (on purpose because you know what it does to him), and you can practically see his resolve break. “Just be careful?”

“Always,” he promises.

And careful he is, slowly picking you up and waiting until you nod to carry you to your bed. He sets you down gently, You’re thrilled to see a glass of water already waiting for you on your bedside table, Morpheus anticipating your needs before you’ve even realized you have them in the first place.

Crawling under the covers after finishing your water, you motion for Morpheus to sit next to you on the bed. He does as you ask, and you move your pillows so that you can sit up and lean on him. When you’re comfortable, you say, “Thank you for everything tonight. I know taking care of me wasn’t what you had planned.”

“You need not thank me. I enjoy caring for you, no matter the situation.”

Your eyes flutter closed at the sensation of his hand carding through your hair, and you start to feel yourself inching closer to the Dreaming. Something keeps you from truly falling asleep, though, and when Morpheus shifts next to you, you realize what it is: the conversation’s not over. Morpheus is trying to figure out how to say what it is he wants to say.

Finally, he figures it out. “Might I ask you something?”

You open your eyes to give him your full attention and nod.

“Earlier, when you seemed surprised that I had noticed your absence. Did you do this,” ‘this’ being getting very drunk, “because of what I said?”

“No. I mean, I went out because I was mad at you, and I figured that me being a couple of hours late would make you learn your lesson, but I got drunk because I wanted to have fun with my friends and let loose.”

“And did you?”

“Maybe a little too much,” you admit cheekily.

“I apologize for my harsh words the other day. I have been…feeling burdened under the weight of my realm, and I took it out on you for no reason.”

“It’s okay, Morpheus. You’re busy running an entire realm and overseeing the collective unconscious. I shouldn’t be so needy.”

He shakes his head. “It is not okay. I should never talk to you in such a way, and you should never feel as though I do not want you around. I do want you around, always.”

“People say things that they don’t mean. That doesn’t mean they’re not worthy of forgiveness. But you gotta talk to me, okay? When you’re feeling stressed, or when things get to be too much. I’m here for you, and I want to support you however I can.”

“I love you,” he says. The fact that he’s being so open with his emotions is a pleasant surprise; it took him so long to be the first to say it, and even longer to be comfortable with it. You smile up at him.

“I love you, too. Stay with me until I fall asleep?”

“Of course.”

Morpheus turns your bedroom light off without you needing to ask (seriously, you love him so much), and you close your eyes. Then, a thought hits you.

“Hey,” you say, staring up at him in the dark and waiting until he looks at you to continue. “Can you get drunk?”

“No.”

“Why not? I mean, isn’t there special alcohol for preternatural beings? You’d think gods and goddesses would’ve figured out a way to get turnt by now.”

Though he doesn’t want to give in to your rambling when you’re meant to be trying to fall asleep, he can’t help but indulge you. “Gods and goddesses can. We, the Endless, cannot.”

“What? That’s so fucking lame. No. That’s–that’s an injustice! I’m so sorry.

“I promise, it is okay. Now, please go to sleep.”

You nod, but close your eyes for maybe thirty seconds before they snap open again with a realization. “Wait.”

“What?”

“You mentioned other gods and goddesses. How many are there? Are they all real? Is actual God real? I mean, I know the devil is real, you kicked their ass for your helm, but for some reason that’s more believable than–”

“Go. To. Sleep,” Morpheus commands.

“Ugh, you’re no fun!”

“I am not afraid to use my sand if need be.”

“You wouldn’t.” You raise an eyebrow in challenge, and he raises one right back. After a brief stalemate, you’re the first to give in. “You have to understand how world-altering this information is to a regular human like me, I mean–”

You’re asleep before your head hits the pillow.

#morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus imagine #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless imagine #the sandman #the sandman imagine

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utterlyotterlyx · 2 months

Note

I love your writing. Could you write an Eris x Reader where she's known he's her mate but he didn't? And maybe they had a flirty thing going but nothing more Beron was recently overthrown and she finally felt safe to be more assertive about her feelings.

Oh my gosh, thank you!

A thousand times yes, let's go.

Dark Paradise

Summary - Eris was the only person who truly saw you, the daughter of a Lord of the Day Court, but when the bond snaps and creates a one sided love, you have no other choice but to distance yourself or else face Beron's wrath.

Warnings - pining, angst, fluff, mentions of torture

It had never been more than what it was, lingering looks of longing and what others would call harmless flirting, but to you, it meant the world.

Autumn wasn't exactly safe for you. Beron wasn't stupid enough to stand against Helion, even for the moment of satisfaction it would bring him to see you cowered and hurt. He'd made it clear he thought of it often.

You had moved to Autumn by the order of your High Lord, there was the potential that you could one day wed one of his sons since you were the daughter of a very powerful lord holed within the Court of Day. It had been two years since you had been moved into the Forest House, two years since you had met the Autumn Court heir and shrugged off attention from anyone else.

It had been a difficult adjustment, your Day Court attire was too revealing, too thin to protect you from the seasonal court you had found yourself within.

You knew Beron had no intention of wedding you to one of his sons, but you were a very lucrative card in his arsenal. Helion was like family, he'd to anything to ensure your safety, and Beron knew that fact well, like he'd thought about it more often that not.

But Eris. Mother above. Eris.

Hair the colour of hot embers, rich amber eyes, the cobalt jacket over a cream shirt with the top two buttons undone, brown leather pants, and the melody of the warm autumn forest as the sun slit its slumberous eye through the tree line mixed with smoked pinewood, enough to make you swoon.

Eris had grown to like you, he didn't speak to you much when you had first arrived, but after finding you with one of his sickly pups in the stables and where you began nursing her back to life did he know that you weren't in his home for any sinister reason.

From then, it had been long glances, insatiable flirting, small smirks that pulled at the edges of his lips when he saw you across the room, late night visits to the kitchens to eat pumpkin pie, and walks up the hills to catch the sunrise.

You were surprised it didn't happen sooner.

The snap that is.

When he had handed the now fully healthy and wriggling pup to you and told you to keep her, that her life continued because of you so she should be yours. It wouldn't be fair on her to be away from the being she had imprinted on.

The way his amber orbs brightened at the sight of her, Maple, wriggling around in your arms to douse your face in those sweet puppy breath kisses, the way he smiled at the sight was enough for your soul to sing. It was like he was the centre of gravity and all you wanted was to fall and allow him to pull you to where you needed to go.

But when the little gasp had left your lips, when he had looked at you with that furrowed brow of concern and asked, "What's wrong?" You knew that it was completely one sided.

Perhaps it wasn't a bad thing that he didn't know. If Beron had found out that the High Fae female he loathed was mated to his heir, he would surely do everything in his power to be rid of you before you could do any real damage. Helion' wrath or not, Beron would peel the skin from your body and relish in your cries.

So, you continued on seemingly unphased, raising Maple to be the most docile and beautiful creature, all whilst distancing yourself from Eris. No more morning walks. No more pumpkin pie after dark. Instead, his looks of longing turned into stares of concern, and the rife flirting had transformed into cornering you and asking if everything was alright to which you simply nodded to before scurrying away.

"Did my father say something to you?" Eris had pinned you to the wall by your rooms one evening, Beron was throwing some pompous dinner for the Lords of Autumn and you had done your duty as dictated by your title, wanting nothing more to leave the room and bury your face into Maple's fur until sleep consumed you.

"No."

"You're lying," Eris' eyes darkened, "You're my friend, Y/N. Tell me what I've done."

Friend.

"I, I just," footsteps approached and you flinched from his grip, trying to stick to the shadows as the steps passed and faded into silence, "I think I forgot my place here," you told him in a hushed tone.

Eris examined you, rolling his eyes down your body before finding your face and waiting expectantly for you to continue. Autumn suited you, the colours complimented you perfectly, the deep hues of earth and the brightness of the day melting into pristine harmony. You stood before him in a velvet stress the colour of ripe plums, hair unbound and falling down your back, with two braids meeting to frame your face.

"You mean everything to me, you're the only person here who actually sees me," his gaze softened and he willed you to continue, he loved your candidness, your will to always be truthful but also be mindful of how you spoke so that you didn't upset others, "I'm afraid that Beron will mistake our friendship for something more. He hates me, he hates everything I stand for, and I'm sure he'd have no problem showing me just as much. I have to distance myself, I don't have a choice if I ever want to go home."

"So that's it?"

"It has to be, Eris. I'm sorry," your bottom lip wobbled, Eris knew how hard you had tried to fit in and make friends with the people in Autumn, but Autumn hated outsiders, and that was what you were. You were so lonely there, and Beron was too stubborn to let you go.

If only he knew how much you loved him, how much you yearned for that tether dancing in the autumn breeze to find something to bind itself to. If only he knew how you dreamt of a life with him and how he consumed your dreams, night and day, his face was there, he was there all of the time and you were suffocating.

It had happened.

Beron was finally gone.

The news had spread around Forest House, the chatter so loud that it had awoken you that morning.

Maple was perched on the edge of your cream coloured comforter, tail wagging and ears pricked upward to the sky as if she was absorbing every bit of information that floated through the closed door.

Beron was gone. You were free.

But Eris. Poor Eris.

You knew that Eris loathed everything his father stood for, that he was already looking for a way to usurp the High Lord and take his place, to make the Autumn Court better for all. But his father had still died, his sire, the man who raised him.

Dressing quickly and calling Maple after you, you hurtled through the Forest House, squeezing through the haze of alarmed bodies that swarmed the foyers and halls, all muttering their shock, and some, delight.

Maple trotted alongside you happily, her ears flopping over her face as you raced toward his rooms, to only be stopped at his doors by two guards telling you that the new High Lord wished to be left alone. At the sound of your desperate voice, the doors behind them opened to reveal him.

Eris stood before you dishevelled, hair messy, bags under his eyes, swollen red cheeks, and clothes askew, he growled at the two guards before grabbing your wrist and pulling you inside, closing the door securely behind you.

Eris immediately fell into you, loud sobs soaring through his body, you supported his weight in your arms and worked your fingers into his hair, shushing him softly and holding him as closely as you could.

"I'm so sorry, Eris," you strained, threatening to join him in his sorrow, you swallowed it down and used the pads of your thumbs to wipe his tears away as his eyes scoured your face, like it was the last time he'd ever see it.

It took him a moment but he finally spoke, "I'm more upset about you leaving, is that bad?"

"What?"

Eris swallowed thickly, water pooling at the corners of his eyes again as he held your forearms in his hands, tracing small circles into your skin and drowning in your scent.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee clung to you, with a hint of honey and lavender, "He's gone, Y/N. You're free, you can go home."

Eris watched your face soften, he watched as you tried to contain your tears, he watched as you took a step closer to him and peered upward so that your eyes pierced through his soul, "I don't want to go, Eris."

Frowning, he asked, "Why? Beron was the only thing keeping you here-"

"Not the only thing," your voice was barely above a whisper, so quiet that he would have missed your words if it weren't for you standing directly under his nose. "You were right that night. I have been lying to you."

Eris said nothing and you continued with a shaky breath, "I'm sorry that I had to distance myself, that I had to stop being me with you. It was either be lonely or risk Beron hurting us, and I couldn't let him do that."

Sun filtered through the windows, cascading its glow over your bodies and spilling onto the floor, curling around you both to avoid interrupting the words flowing from your lips, "Seeing you was the best part of my day, no one looks at me here but not only do you look at me, you understand me, you see me for everything I am and accept it without hesitation. I couldn't be the reason you got hurt, I would sooner die than be the reason of any of your pain."

Eris looked down at you, etching the slope of your nose and curve of your lips to memory, the sun shone on you, making the bright specks of your eyes dance in its light and your skin glimmer softly like fine sand. It was your eyes he loved the most, pools of wonder and sadness, you spoke with your eyes, he had noticed, every single mood of your was clear as day when he looked into them.

Adoration was laced in them, elegant guarded adoration.

The glow felt brighter, and shimmers of gold tugged at his essence, enough to see you in a different world of light that wrapped around you both.

Eris was breathless, panting softly through his nose, "You're my mate," and as he said the word the bond came to life, that lonely tether dancing in the autumn breeze now finding the end it so craved to entwine itself with, "You knew?"

You nodded, "From the day you gave me Maple," you smiled sadly, that had been just over six months ago, and then it all made sense to him.

Eris had almost gone insane trying to figure out why you had suddenly cut him out of your life, but of course you were trying to protect yourself, to protect him from the evil that was Beron. The former High Lord would have brutalised you if he had known of it. You would have rather have been all alone than risk Beron unleashing his anger onto Eris.

"Why didn't you tell me? I could have done something, I would have gotten us out of here, I would have taken you away and kept you safe," his fingers brushed against your cheek and you leaned into his touch, fire skittering across your skin.

"I didn't want to put you in that position, I couldn't do that to you," tears fell from your eyes and Eris kissed them away, the salty drops coating his lips.

"You've been alone all this time because you didn't want put me in that position?" Eris' hands fell to your waist and he pulled you in closer, your chests meeting, he pressed his lips to your forehead, mumbling against your skin, "I would turn this court into ash if it meant that you were safe."

"Eris-"

"No, let me talk," he held your face in his hands, willing you to meet his eye as he lowered his gaze, "You are my heaven and my hell, you are the morning sun that illuminates the world after a night of storms and darkness, you are the sandy shore that glistens in the moonlight, you are the first birdsong that cuts through the equinox. You are everything, and you are mine, really mine?"

Eris felt as though he was dreaming, or maybe he was stood in the middle of some cruel nightmare, but as you stood on your tip toes and brushed your lips against his, he knew that no pinch was necessary to wake him, your soft lips were certainly enough to remind him that you were there and real, and his until the moment he took his last breath.

Authors Note

I really hope you like this! Thank you for the request, I love writing for Eris so much x

#fanfiction #imagine #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #maasverse #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #helion acotar #rhysand #a court of thorns and roses

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yandere-daydreams · 8 months

Text

Title: Needlework.

A grab-bag commission for the very lovely @pale-horse-writing.

Pairing: Yandere!OC x Reader.

Summary: Your long-term captor takes one more step towards making you his perfect little doll.

Word Count: 1.2k.

TW: Injury To Reader, Infantilization, Dollification, Feminization (Reader Dressed Femininely and Specifically NOT Cool With It), Implied Kidnapping, Unhealthy Relationships, and Non-Consensual Drug Use.

Every stitch took exactly fifteen seconds.

Two for the tip of the needle to pierce your skin, three more to find its exit-point, and ten for Dottie to pull the long, braided string through your punctured flesh. The final result was two perfectly symmetrical rows of neat, pinkish white ‘x’-es leading from the curve of your foot to the bottom of your knee, binding vinyl to skin and ensuring you wouldn’t be able to remove it without a great deal of trouble, without ruining your perfect white gloves and perfect white dress. The shoes themselves – because that was the point of this, as difficult as it was to remember, to make sure you couldn’t misbehave and remove your real punishment – were silver and well-polished, a pair that he'd just brought home a few days ago. There had been crossed strips of ribbon down the front at one point, but they’d been removed in favor of leaving that much more of your skin exposed, and in place of the dainty, delicate heels he usually preferred were thick platforms; about six inches tall and specially weighted to limit mobility. You couldn’t imagine where he’d gotten them. You couldn’t imagine how he’d gotten it into his head to use them for something like this.

Dottie brought the needle to your skin for the final stitch, the point sinking into your numb calf for the thousandth time. Despite everything, he wasn’t a sadist – the mask fitted over the lower half of your face and the canister it was attached to made sure you stayed limp, complacent, too strung-out to move or run or think as he worked. A few months ago, you would’ve protested, kicked and screamed and threw the kind of tantrum he’d have to calm with a hushed tone and a handful of sedatives, but you’d learned better, since then. He was going to do whatever he wanted to you, no matter how you reacted to it. The only thing you got to decide was how much it was going to hurt.

There was an airy chuckle, the sound of a thread being cut, then a fleeting kiss to the inside of your knee. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, peeling off his latex gloves and discarding them along with his bloody needle before turning his attention back to you, to your prone state. Your mask was removed, but your vision remained unfocused, the fog laying over your thoughts still thick as Dottie ran his fingertips over your cheek, rubbing out the lingering indents. Out of reflex, you leaned into his touch, eager to savor his gentleness before the numbness wore off and the ache let in, and your desperation was rewarded with a light hum, another kiss – the one to the top of your head. “You did beautifully.” You felt his lips against the shell of your ear, then your cheek. “I couldn’t ask for a better model.”

You tried to speak, to respond with something halfway coherent, but your tongue was too heavy and your throat was filled with cotton and it was all you could do to open your mouth, to let out something you could only compare to a fractured whimper. There was a sympathetic coo, a new weight on the edge of the velvet-cushioned lounge-seat he used for your little ‘adjustments’. Carefully, with pains taken not to disturb the delicate bows tied into your hair, he draped an arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his chest. “I know, I know,” he muttered, squeezing you against him before detangling himself from you completely. “But it’s for the best. I knew what had to be done the second I saw what you were getting up to while I was gone.”

What you were getting up to. He must’ve meant breaking his unspoken rules – cooking for yourself, changing out of his meticulously chosen outfits, loosening the strings of the lung-flattening corsets he took minutes out of his schedule to bind you into. You weren’t supposed to do anything, not while he was gone, not if there was a chance you’d bruise yourself or tear the hem of one of his handmade petticoats. He would never say it aloud, but he wasn’t subtle. He wanted you to be something pretty, something useless, something that was doted on and adorned with proof of his misplaced love. You’d heard him admit, once, while he thought you were asleep, that if he had his way, you wouldn’t have to do so much as think for yourself, but thankfully, he hadn’t found an article of clothing that can accomplish that. Not yet, at least.

“This’ll keep you out of trouble while I’m away.” He positioned himself at your side, clapping his hands the way you would if you were trying to get a child’s attention. An animal’s attention. “Why don’t you try taking a step for me, sweetheart?”

Dread, fear, and shame coiled in the pit of your stomach. With more than a little reluctance, you swung your feet over the side of the chair, tears immediately welling up and blurring your vision further as the platforms strained Dottie’s stitching and sent a thousand stabbing, agonizing jolts racing up your legs. Standing was no easier, but you managed to push yourself to your feet, to ignore the way your legs screamed in protest long enough to lift your right foot and took a single, unsteady st—

Your knees buckled, your strength faltering, and then you were on the ground, legs bent into a crumbled heap and dress fanning out around you. Dottie was by your side in a moment, pulling you into his arms as you heard yourself start to sniffle, as you felt warm tears start to drip down your cheeks. “Poor thing.” The sentiment was empathetic, but his cadence was overjoyed, brimming with excitement. It was the same tone he used when he sat you down in front of a vanity, made you watch as he fastened yet another lace collar around your neck. It was the same voice he used when he was on top of you, wiping away your tears as he pretended to care about whether or not you were happy. “Like a puppet without its strings. That’s alright, though. You know I’ll always be here to repair you.”

You rested your cheek against his chest, shutting your eyes. “People don’t need to be repaired.”

“But you do.” One last kiss, this one to the corner of your lips. This time, you couldn’t bring yourself to pretend the affection made you feel much of anything at all. “And that’s why I have to look after you.”

He was taking you back to your bedroom, to the pink-soaked space filled to the point of bursting with soft blankets and stuffed animals and all the things he wanted you to want. You’d be left there until the numbing agent wore off, until the pain was more than you could take, and when you cried out for him and his distorted comfort, he’d take joy in doting on you, in reassuring himself that you were too helpless to take so much as a step without his help.

You could only hope that, whenever he decided you’d learned your lesson, his stitches would come out faster than they’d gone in.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere oc #oc x reader #yandere oc x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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mirnilop · 8 months

Text

𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓁 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 ˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ wally darling

⚠ tags: sfw, mob au, yandere!wally, gn!singer!reader, power imbalance, discussions of violence

♡ synopsis: you’d be surprised how many fans you accrue as a small-time lounge singer. while this is usually a good thing, one of yours happens to rule half the city, so he isn’t exactly receptive to the word “no”.

♡ word count: 5,310

⛧ﾐ‧*･ﾟ the following content may be triggering to some. please proceed with caution! ･ﾟ*‧ミ⛧

a/n: hello!! ₍ᐢ.ˬ.⑅ᐢ₎ goshh, my very first post on this acc!! i haven’t posted fanfic in a hot minute but i’m suuuper excited to get back into it!! 💞 i have sooo many wips for this fandom, it was difficult to choose which one to finish first! credit to @/clownsuu for creating the au and for the lovely art!! i tweaked the concept a wee bit so that it takes place in a roger rabbit-esque world where puppets and humans live together unharmoniously (with a jessica rabbit inspired reader ofc >v>). it was a lot of fun trying to marry wally's canon personality with a Scary Mob Boss (*´ 艸`) i can't wait to post more!! what are y'all's favourite aus? let me know!! ･*･:≡(　ε:)

There’s a rose on your vanity.

The sight of it snuffs out your high spirits, irritation igniting in its place– and it was such a good day, too! You and the girls were perfectly in sync for your entire performance, bolstered by the unusually affable audience; you even rewarded them with a sneak peek of new material, which made them go wild!

Dreams of stomping it beneath your heel stew in your head as you drop it in the faience vase at the rim of the mirror, where a crinkled, beige-tipped rose droops against the rim. Why not break the vase too? An idea that’s crossed your mind too many times, and while it gets harder to resist with each flower, you endure it. They’re presents, after all, and you doubt your admirer would take kindly to the news that you’ve trashed them. You’re certain one of his minions would obtain the evidence, if not witness you do it; you can’t pinpoint the extent to which they survey you, but the crawling sensation of eyes on your back crops up often, and obviously they have no problem barging into your dressing room to play delivery service.

Sighing, you comb through your rolling rack to pick a suitable outfit to change into. Most of the articles hanging are also gifts, but you’ve made sure to keep some of your own hard-earned clothes here out of sheer spite. A burgundy cashmere number has just slipped into your grasp when the door bursts open.

“How’s that for a show?! And what a great crowd, a whole buncha dolls! Or– well, puppets– and humans! Hahaha!”

Lottie skips in with her usual energy, the bell on her collar jingling alongside the clack of her Mary Janes. You hate that their manager mandates the bells as a part of their costumes, as if puppets being treated like second-class citizens wasn’t enough. “You wanna make money or not? It’s part of the appeal! You know, Mary Had A Little Lamb and all that!” is what he told you after one of your countless tirades regarding his treatment of them, but the sleazy smirk wrapped around his cheap cigarette allowed you to read between the lines. As much as you despise that man, it’s not your business to judge the trio for staying contracted with him. Mottie’s recalled to you how difficult it was to hire a manager at all, and you suppose you have to (begrudgingly) thank him for bringing them into your life, since he’s the one who bagged them the backup singer gig.

A swell of color in your peripheral lets you know that she’s come near, but you don’t bother diverting attention from your search. This is such a common occurrence between you two that pleasantries are no longer required.

“And they were mighty generous with the tips! So me and the gals was thinking we should go somewhere to… celebrate…��

Hearing her trail off, you turn to find her staring at the new rose, her once-perky ears fallen limp. You click your tongue, remorse prickling your heart, though you’ve done nothing wrong.

“I’ll be alright, Lottie. Here,” You grab a wad of bills from your personal tip jar and fold them into her hand. “You take your sisters somewhere nice, my treat. As an apology for having to skip out tonight.”

When she doesn’t move from her spot, merely pouting at you with big, glistening eyes full of concern, you swaddle her in a hug. Fleecy strands of shell pink hair tickle your nose as she nestles her snout into your shoulder, squeezing you like a lifebuoy. Having her in your arms is a vital reminder as to why you continue to put up with everything. Lottie, Dottie and Mottie are your beloved friends– your family when you had none– and you are willing to do whatever is necessary to build a life with them.

“Are ya sure?”

“Positive. And if that bug gives you even a whiff of trouble, you come get me right away, got it?”

She laughs, the sound a balm to the ache of your worries. “He never gives us any trouble– n’fact, I haven’t heard ‘im say a single word!”

“Good. At least one of them has manners. Now go have fun!”

After a few more hugs and a promise to relay your apology to her sisters, she trots towards the entrance. Halfway through it, she pauses.

“Promise ya’ll play nice?”

An involuntary grimace twists your face, which you smooth immediately.

“I was planning on it,” you concede, earning an exhale of relief from Lottie.

“Thanks. Honestly, I’m kinda worried...” She leans against the doorframe, gaze trained on the checkered floor. “I see more and more of that Napoleon-wannabe’s goons lately. Do ya think he’s gettin’ antsy? It’s been real quiet since that incident with Dorelaine.”

Ah, the incident. It happened a handful of months ago; he refused to go into specifics, but what you’ve gathered from his gnomic recount and various news stories is that their rival organization– led by Ronald Dorelaine, a human man– planted explosives somewhere important, racking up thousands in damages and dismembering several puppets, left to be mended with those horrific stitches. You didn’t receive another rose until several weeks afterwards.

“I can’t be sure,” you admit. “He doesn’t tell me much about the goings-on of the ‘family’, not that I care to know. But I noticed he’s been more wound up lately… maybe they’re going to retaliate?”

A visible shudder travels through Lottie, and she tosses her head as if to ward off the gravity of your predicament. It was easier to ignore the implications when there wasn’t an active turf battle.

“You’re right, we should stay as far as we can from that nasty business. Wear the red, then. To butter ‘im up a little.” She offers you a conflicted half-smile, most likely holding herself back from proposing a makeover, before sidling out the door.

Glowering, you follow the advice, shucking your tight, shimmering stage outfit for the cozy cashmere you were eyeing before. Like I need to be reminded of his favorite color. I’ve practically lived in red since I met him. It inexplicably fits like a glove, as do all of the clothes you've been bestowed; for the sake of your sanity, you prevent yourself from delving too far into that subject.

As you fix the little bits of your appearance that got mussed up during your performance, you can’t help but contemplate hiding in your room until morning, even though you know it wouldn’t work– and you’d have to pay for a broken front door. Once every speck of lint has been removed and your ensemble is flawless, you steel your resolve with a hard look in the mirror. If things go south, at least you’ll make a gorgeous open casket.

You step into your shoes and out of the dressing room, swiping your bag and a matching hat from the plethora that dangle on knobs affixed to the wall along the way. The haze that eternally permeates the lounge envelops you as you walk, no longer springing tears to your eyes like it did so long ago, when you were a starry-eyed fledgling. Upon entering the foyer, you call out to the owner, Gene, who’s counting the register behind the bar.

“Hey, I’m heading out!”

“Geez, you’re in a hurry! Got a hot date or what?”

“Something like that,” you breathe, your nerves relighting tenfold now that you’re so close to the outside.

“Ahh, I getcha.” His amusement is clear, construing an innuendo within your words that is absolutely not there, but you’d rather die than clarify. “You did a great job today, you deserve it!”

Somehow, your admirer has managed to limbo directly under Gene’s nose; thus far he’s made no indication that he’s aware he has a very important patron. For a moment, you observe him, and see how he absentmindedly rubs the pocket of his button-up– where a polaroid of his two children is safely tucked away– and you decide that it’s probably for the best.

“Thanks, Gene. Have a good one.”

“You too!”

His reply barely reaches you as you cross the threshold from the comfort of your work into the cold, pensive night. A luckier soul may have suffered a fright when greeted with the colossal figure standing below the street light, carved with shadow, but it’s a familiar sight to you now. An inconspicuous black car is parked behind him.

“Hi Howdy.”

“Evening, Mx.” He bows slightly, whisking open the sleek passenger door which you reluctantly slide inside.

“I wish you’d stop calling me that. I do have a name.” It’s true. Being addressed formally by such an important figure imbues you a with a sick feeling, like he’s won, and you’ve already been initiated into this fucked up institution.

Though he waits for you to finish speaking before shutting you in, he doesn’t grace you with a response; not that you were expecting one. In all the times he’s escorted you to these duress-dates, as you’ve taken to calling them, he’s remained stoic to a mechanical degree, acknowledging your presence and nothing more. Thrashing, crying, screaming– you’ve tried everything to escape, and have never elicited a reaction more severe than that of a tired parent handling a tantrum. If you resist, he simply manhandles you. It’s hardly a fair match, with him having 4 arms and several feet of height on you, so you opt to reserve your energy for dealing with his headache of a boss.

When he hauls his many limbs onto the driver’s seat, the car lurches, too small to accommodate a puppet of his stature; he has to hunch forward to see the windshield, antennae pushed flat. You lean back and vacantly turn towards the window, wondering if cars big enough for someone like him to drive comfortably even exist while the engine rumbles to life.

The umbrous cityscape passes you by, inklings of humans and puppets flashing in and out of the darkness like ghosts. Thick boughs of red and green tinsel are strung across a few lamp posts, but by the end of the season they’ll all be covered. Dottie’s already triple checked that you and her sisters have one day of the annual Christmas market off, even though you strike the same deal with Gene every year; the four of you get Saturday, then he gets Sunday to take his family. It’s one of your favorite times of the year, if only because you get to experience the aura of wonder that enlivens Lottie when the first snow falls, Mottie’s timid wheedling to attend The Nutcracker, and Dottie’s alphabetically-organized checklist of fun winter activities.

Those cheerful thoughts are wiped away as Howdy turns into a private garage attached to a sleek, angular skyscraper. He parks in the spot nearest to the entrance, the first in a row of spaces labeled with metal “Reserved for Staff” signs, and circles the car to let you out. The sensation of him gingerly lifting you comes with no alarm; he always assists you up the concrete stairs leading to the elevator, as if you’re so physically inept you can’t handle 3 tiny steps. You assume his needless precaution is for the same reason he hasn’t beaten you yet despite defying him so often: boss’s orders.

With a reedy knell, the elevator glides open, and Howdy signals for you to go ahead. Once you’re both inside, he inserts a key and presses the button for the uppermost level. Expecting a noiseless ride, you tune into the low muzak emitting from the speakers, which makes you miss the first time he calls you.

“Mx.”

Startled, you swivel towards him. His steadfast profile is unreadable.

“Boss doesn’t know you’ve opposed him so vehemently in the past. Please keep that in mind tonight.”

The entrance broaches before you can interrogate him as to what the hell he means, granting you entry to a luxury penthouse laved in gold, ivory, and– of course– red. A glimmering chandelier suspends from the ornamental ceiling, bathing the antique furniture in an amber glow. If you hadn’t just ridden up the elevator, you would have assumed such a lavish drawing room belonged to an old mansion.

It’s something straight out of a romance novel, except instead of a chiseled, broody Italian, it’s a short puppet sitting at the marble-topped dining table. He lounges at the head in a slate blue silk suit with its jacket buttoned to the top; an honor seemingly reserved solely for you, because it’s the only way you’ve seen him wear it, despite street tales describing the way it billows from his shoulders as he stalks the town. Revealed by its plunged neckline is the collar of a white dress shirt embossed with rainbow pinstripes, and a red ascot neatly tied and pulled askant around his throat.

Wally Darling, in the felt: kingpin of The Neighborhood, and resident thorn in your side.

When you arrive, he rises to meet you, dismissing Howdy with a pointed glance; you’ve learned that the relationship between a crime lord and his loyal bandog transcends language. You watch him as he leaves through a pair of swinging doors to the left, his cryptic advice-slash-warning heavy on your mind.

And so, you find yourself alone with the most dangerous man in the city– puppet or otherwise.

“Good evening, dearest. I hope my gift found you well.”

The concept of personal space might as well be Greek to Wally, since he hasn’t once respected it from the day you had the misfortune of making his acquaintance. He crowds so close that you have to crane your neck to see his face, the heat emanating from him eliciting shivers in your chill-soaked body.

“Yes, thank you. It was quite a lively night,” you chirp, wielding a civil smile.

Although the contours of his wispy, coiffed curls only reach your ribs, he extends his arm to you, which you take with such a featherlight hold that you barely brush his sleeve. Rather than leading you to the dining table like you expected, you’re guided towards a small lounge area to the side, the crackling croon of Billie Holiday wafting over from a refurbished stereo console in the corner. Oh, great. He’s feeling sentimental.

“Would you indulge me with a dance before dinner?”

Don't have much of a choice, do I?

“I’d love to.”

Dancing with Wally is funny, in an ironic sort of way; it certainly caught you off guard the first time he asked. When you envision dancing with a powerful, deadly mobster, you think of being swept away, wrapped snugly by strong arms and a dastardly smirk, or perhaps something more courtly, like a waltz steered by a polite hand on your waist. Turns out both versions are incorrect.

Muscle memory ushers your arms open, and Wally falls into the space in between them– literally. Slack against you, his full weight is heftier than his height would imply, but not physically uncomfortable– emotionally and morally, however, are another story. An air of pure peace washes over him as his cheek nuzzles the underside of your chest, arms limp at his sides; you swear you even hear a little trill. Your face burns, but you say nothing as you begin to sway faintly to the beat, tracing a loop with your feet as you traipse along. Wally follows easily, tethered by the reluctant cage of your embrace.

“Do you remember the night we met?”

The query is felt more than heard, his gentle monotone muffled by the downy fabric of your garb. You huff softly to yourself, rustling a few gel-slick strands atop his pompadour.

“How could I forget?”

The day the infamous Mr. Darling appeared in your club, his two largest henchmen in tow, is burned into your brain like a regrettable tattoo; Gene was off, so you were covering entertainment for the night while the sisters managed the bar and floor. As you were singing the very song playing now, you detected a curious hush that had overtaken the throng of guests, and strained to cut through the stage glare and cigarette fog to locate the cause. Tracking the audience, who were all regarding the bar with varying amounts of subtlety, you nearly dropped the microphone when you saw the broad blue back of Barnaby B. Beagle, someone you’d only heard of in gossip. He gesticulated as he spoke boisterously to poor Mottie, who was as white as a sheet behind the counter. Situated a slight ways away was Howdy Pillar, who stood as motionless as a statue with both sets of forelimbs fastened behind him.

And then you noticed him. A puppet no more than 4 feet tall, but whose oppressive presence commanded full attention. He paid no mind to the (one-sided) conversation between his colleague and your friend– no, he was staring right at you. Boring into you so acutely that you felt pinned, compelled somehow to continue singing until the final note trickled away.

As if a spell had been broken, you leapt from the platform and scurried to Mottie, who stayed petrified even when you tried to covertly nudge her to the side. How avidly you wished a fissure would open beneath their shoes and swallow them whole; but, armed with years of appeasing difficult and sordid customers, you spoke.

“Evening, fellas. I hope you enjoyed the show.”

Barnaby, who had stopped talking when you rounded the bar, bellowed a laugh.

“Fellas?! Is that any way to greet the boss and I?"

He tilted forward with menacing glee, propped up by furry elbows as his claws scraped the laminate countertop. Each of his fangs were as big as your nose.

"Dontcha know who we are, toots? Or do ya just need a refresher on respect?"

The acrid smoke from his cigar blew directly into your face, making spikes of anger bubble in your belly as you choked back a cough. Just when you felt composed enough to reply, a surprisingly mellow voice chimed in.

"It's alright, Barnaby."

The shock slacking his jaw mirrored yours, although you hid it under a mask of cool indifference. You dared a glance at Mr. Darling, but the pressure of his peer chased your gaze back to Barnaby, who grumbled as he straightened back up. It was difficult to stay trained on his good eye, but you soldiered on. Fear was not something you could afford to show, and you knew you'd crumble if you peeked at the fabled gaping socket that he stapled open himself.

"I don't suppose you're Gene Clifton, aged 54, father of two, owner of this joint?" He joked, recovered from the flub.

"No, sir, but my banker would sure be happy if I was. Can I take down a message?"

"A message! I love this bird!" Snickering cruelly, he waved a flippant paw. "Y'should try that material on stage sometime, might bring ya more customers than the singing bit."

You sucked a sharp inhale up your nose. Serenity now.

"See, here's the problem. This is family territory, and in return for our protection, we charge a teensy fee. Now, we ain't unreasonable– we've sent ole Gene a few letters. And what’s our thanks for such humble hospitality? Zilch."

Oh dear. Gene doesn't bother investigating any mail the lounge receives before tossing it because it’s typically adverts. He definitely would've noted The Neighborhood's seal if he did. Regardless, the frank abuse of power only fanned your annoyance, obscuring your better judgment.

"What protection? I don't recall seeing any of your members patrolling outside. Besides, we didn’t ask for protection."

Mottie snapped towards you, looking as though she might faint. The corner of Barnaby's mouth twitched skyward, like he was hoping you'd argue, but his boss beat him to the punch.

"We can reach an agreement, I’m sure. I'd hate to see a family establishment go under, especially when they have such lovely entertainment."

Apparently Wally was so smitten that he'd accept your company in lieu of money, and so the agreement (if you can even call it that, since you were coerced) was this– whenever a rose was delivered to you, you'd attend a rendezvous with him. When you returned to your dressing room later that evening, you discovered the first gift of several: your vase.

“I knew because of your eyes.”

The floral wallpaper in front of you shifts back into focus, Wally’s voice shaking you from your recollection.

“Pardon?”

“That night, you drew me in; I couldn’t concentrate on anything else, least of all a petty protection tax. And I knew I had to have you when I met your eyes.” He sounds dreamy, reminiscing as you were before, though his framing of events is worlds apart from your own; he recalls a destined encounter with his future partner, whereas you mark it the day your wings were clipped for good.

“They shone like stars, even through the smog.”

It’s only after he’s finished that you realize you’ve stopped moving, wrapped in an intimate hug like true lovers. A strange mix of pride and disgust floods you at the compliment, stomach flip-flopping rapidly.

He untangles from you, receding so that only your hands remain connected. The newfound distance eases some of your tension, but to your horror, you find yourself mourning the loss of the husky scent of his cologne. Loath as you are to admit it, the bastard smells amazing: a dark, leathery swirl of apples and saffron that you’d buy out if someone turned it into a candle.

“Let’s not delay any longer. You must be starving.”

True to his gentlemanly veneer, he seats you at the table before settling himself. You don’t see him call, but a server emerges immediately from the doors through which Howdy left with a tray of appetizers.

There are two graces you award Wally Darling: his excellent taste in cologne, and his staff’s Michelen-quality fare. Though they adopt the four courses typical of fine dining, the dishes are more grounded, toeing the border between grandma and Gordon Ramsay perfectly. Truthfully, you’re not even sure what to categorize it as; virtually everything is transfigured into a jello, pie, or salad, harkening back to the post-war cookbooks you used to gawk at as a child in your late mother’s library. The yellowed pictures in those books appeared extremely unappetizing, but somehow The Neighborhood makes it work.

It could be because of an illusive member named Poppy, one of the 7 who make up Wally’s illustrious inner circle. She’s scarcely seen due to her fretful and skittish nature, but Wally lauds her cooking and baking skills, regaling you in the past with plenty of kitchen mishaps that occurred when she tried to decompress by experimenting with recipes and was interrupted by their more excitable comrades. If you remember correctly, he once told you that most of the menus in rotation were created by her.

The nature of these duress-dates is wholly dependent on Wally’s mood– if he’s happy, then he’ll gladly chat your ear off about frivolous happenings in his and his friends’ private lives, though he takes care to be shrewd with any details that dive too deep into the murky underbelly lying just below. If he’s unhappy, then they can be utterly unbearable; his mere existence puts you on edge, so it’s exponentially worse when he’s out of sorts, tone curt and glare fierce.

Thankfully, he’s amiable tonight. The first 3 courses march on without incident, and painless conversation flows between the two of you, even if he does most of the talking– you’re not exactly eager to share more than you have to. It’s when the server presents dessert that things go awry.

“Say, how are those triplets you work with doing?” Wally says, spooning at the Bananas Foster. “I haven’t had the pleasure of catching a performance since our mishap a while back. So much paperwork, so little time, you know how it is.”

The mention of both your friends and the aforementioned Dorelaine incident have you bristling reflexively, but you do your best to tamp it down.

“They’re well, overall. Sometimes it’s difficult for them– their manager’s a real piece of work, and we get all types at the lounge.”

“I see…”

He lets out a long “hmmmm”, like he’s reflecting on this information.

“My family has also come upon hard times. It can be… trying, sometimes, to guide my children. Especially now, when we are under unjust attack.” He confesses, wistfully resting his chin on a thread-scarred palm. “Every family requires a head, but what is a head without a neck?”

Unjust my ass. Still, the weird metaphor confuses you.

“A neck?”

At that, his catlike grin only grows. What is he talking about?

“Yes, a neck; that is, someone who supports the head. I care for my family, so it’s only right I am cared for in return, wouldn’t you say?”

Though the phrasing is puzzling, you’re fairly confident you can infer what he’s purposefully dangling in front of you, and oh, it makes your stomach plummet. Sweat breaks out underneath your suddenly-sweltering outfit; it's as if you've been tied to a railroad and have managed to divert the train through pure will for a year, but now it's steamrolling square for you. The anxiety of impending doom renders you mute, unable to piece together a coherent thought.

Taking your silence in stride, Wally leans forward, intense as he grasps your hand in both of his own. The yellow fuzz does nothing to help how clammy you feel.

“What I mean to say is, I think that it’s time to settle down."

No.

“Wh– what? Settle down how?”

“To get married, silly.”

You’re unable to help the gasp that escapes you. No, no, no!

“Get married? You mean– to me?!”

“Of course. I’ve been courting you all this time, haven’t I?”

You sputter, and he rubs your hand as if to soothe you. His many gold rings gleam under the chandelier, teasing a glimpse of your fate.

“I know in the beginning you weren’t receptive to the idea of this life, but I've shown you that I can provide for you better than anyone else.”

Your expression must betray your surprise, because he chuckles– a slow, stilted sound that sends gooseflesh blooming across your skin.

“You thought I didn’t know? Howdy may not have reported it– which I’ll rectify in due time– but I have eyes everywhere, dear. You’re quite the talented actor, though.”

That trademark simper melts into something beguiling; he cradles you as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held.

“I love you, and I will take care of you, as I ask you to do for me. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

An inviting facade of genuine affection, so ardent that you almost want to believe it. Wouldn’t that be the easiest path to take? To surrender to the hand that feeds, because where it strangles others, it caresses you sweetly? It’s more tempting than you’d ever divulge, because underneath the armor of aplomb you've so carefully forged, you're exhausted. This burden has been yours alone to bear– and what a bear it is, because if you mess up, the people you love could be injured, or worse. So much worse.

Perhaps sensing an opening, Wally continues.

“Be reasonable. The family welcomes you with open arms! Haven’t you missed having a family?"

The words stab you right through the heart, and your waning resolve springs back tenfold by the fury that ruddies your vision. When you rip your hand away, he makes no move to stop you.

"My friends are my family. I don’t want anyone else, especially not murderers!” You snarl. “You kill people– and torture and maim them! How can you expect me to accept this?!"

"All in a day's work when cleaning up the city, unfortunately," Wally hums. "I wish we didn't have to resort to such things, but you must understand. As it is, puppets are treated as less than, and hardship runs rampant for both humans and puppets alike. You’ve experienced these firsthand.” With the elegance of a master conman, he touches his chest in mock respire. “All we wish to do is provide a safe haven for those in need– somewhere to rest your bones, enjoy a hot meal, and where everyone accepts you as their own. A home.”

You abruptly stand up, feeling like you’re wound so taut that you could erupt at any moment. The mahogany chair behind you tips over from the force, striking the floor with a leaden thud, though the sound is deafened by the blood rushing in your ears.

“Bullshit! You don’t have to start a gang to combat discrimination or help suffering people! Maybe that spiel works on the poor saps you trick into doing your dirty work, but it won’t work on me. The answer is no.”

All is still for a moment as you struggle to calm your heaving breaths, trembling and locked in a quiet stalemate with Wally, who’s as relaxed as ever. Your attention flits from his right eye to where the left would be, if not for the lesion carved from a notch above his eyelid to an inch below, giving the illusion that what lies beneath is impaled.

Oh shit.

The magnitude of what just transpired comes crashing down as your adrenaline flushes out. After playing it safe for months– stomaching unwanted exorbitant gifts, being tailed by his employees, and rousted to innumerous “dates”– you just rejected Wally Darling in the most aggressive way possible. So you do the only thing that might garner you a chance to make it out of this alive: run.

You’re halfway across the room when 4 thick arms suddenly wrangle and force you to halt, a scream ripping itself from your throat out of fear. Can this motherfucker teleport now?! How the hell did he get here so fast?? Thrashing, you throw your head back to search Howdy’s face, desperate for an ounce of the sympathy he’d offered in the elevator, but it is in vain; his stony visage is impenetrable, as though it had never wavered.

“How about you sleep on it, hm? Think about all of your options. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to those little lambs when their adorable shepherd isn’t around to protect them.”

Delicate fingers cup your jaw, making you freeze as Wally stretches up to plant a faux-kiss on your cheek, complete with a small “mwah!”. You scowl daggers at him as he collects your hat from where it flew to the floor, dusts it off, and lovingly places it back on your head before giving you a few pats.

“Aw, don’t be that way, darling. I truly meant what I said; you have beautiful eyes. I can hardly wait to try one on.”

With a snap, you’re hauled over Howdy’s back and spirited out of the room, presumably to be transported to wherever you’ll be staying. Hopefully not Wally’s quarters.

It’s all too much; you feel like you’re trapped in a nightmare. How else did you expect this to end? You’re not sure. With all of the awful things he’s done, forcing you into marriage is not beyond him. You just thought you’d have more time: to plan, to save up enough money to take the girls and race to the hills.

Tears gather on your waterlines, and the minute your mouth wobbles, they spill ceaselessly. Full-bodied sobs wrack you, the pain of Howdy’s shoulder jutting into your midsection compounding the profound ache of sorrow. All this time, you’ve been trying to fight, but there was no fight to be had; it ended the moment his eyes found yours across the lounge that day.

#🐇 penned #🌈🖼️ wh #feat. some random ocs i made up for the sake of the fic #welcome home #welcome home x reader #wally darling x reader #x reader #reader-insert #yandere x reader #i love randomly throwing in ronald dorelaine #cause we have no idea who he is or what he's like #so he can be whatever i need him to be #yandere wally darling #yandere wally darling x reader #welcome home mob au #clownsuu

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fairytsuk1 · 10 months

Text

looking glass | (s)

apart of the meet cute: gone wrong series, click here for more!

pairing: shoto todoroki x reader

words: 5.7k

prompt: "moving into a new apartment and realizing they can see directly into their neighbor’s window"

warnings: strangers to lovers, masturbation, mild pervert!todoroki, voyeurism, exhibitionism, fingering, kitchen sex, unprotected sex, alcohol

Shoto had decided to move. He had to get away from it all, and his only option post-college was to find an apartment where he could heal from all his trauma in peace. The moving-in process had been grand, Midoriya had come by, and he was always such a great friend. Even some ex-classmates had come by, with welcoming gifts or a helping hand. Even Bakugou had paid a visit with Kirishima, and the distance was starting to seem not so bad now that he was settled into his one-bedroom apartment.

Things were looking up! Job security, a new place, and lots of people to meet. It even felt a bit exciting. A new chapter.

“So you’re single?”

The apartment complex had its pitfalls, namely the single women that had spotted an attractive bachelor on their radar and were quick to bomb-rush him with questions. Was he single? Was he set to be married? Married in the past? Looking for that special someone?

An older woman, Miyako, had come with onigiri and many questions. Some bordered on creepy, but Todoroki had difficult time saying “go away” to people who didn’t deserve it. He’d come a long way from his teenage years; he had to be better now.

“I’m just going about life right now, er; I’ll let you know?”

Miyako looked thrilled to have caught Shoto’s attention, but it was beginning to feel embarrassing when he only wanted to take out the trash.

“Oh, that’s great! Believe me, my husband is always gone, so if I never need… help, I know how to find you!”

It seemed a bit distasteful that she’d tried lowering her eyes and rubbing her lips together as if he’d get with a married woman. Gosh, imagine the drama. Todoroki took a look around, and most people were leaving for work. He probably shouldn’t be seen with this lady like this.

“Yeah, I’m not exactly handy, though. Uhm, I hope it all works out,” and Todoroki's taking the tray from her hands, “and thank you for the onigiri.”

She follows his steps as he moves backward, “Oh, but are you sure you don’t need anything else?”

An angelic voice floats out from behind him. It’s the smoothest voice he’s ever heard.

“I’m sure he’s fine, Miyako!”

He was thankful someone had come to put this cougar to rest, but as he turned towards the sound of the voice… he thought he could hear bells in the distance. Have you always been living here? Are you a guardian angel striking a pose on Earth? Why hadn’t he gotten to see you earlier?

“Oh, I’m just checking up on him!”

She dares to pinch his cheek, and he can feel it grow warm under her manicured nails, “isn’t he so cute?”

“Soooo cute,” and you offer a small wave, “Hi there.”

He doesn’t take your lack of a compliment to heart, waving back and noting your name. It was pretty, and it fits you perfectly. So did the suit you were wearing, the blazer buttoned to accentuate curves, and you still managed to adorn yourself with gold jewelry without losing your air of professionalism.

“Well, I have to go,” Miyako rests a hand on his, whispering, “Enjoy the onigiri.”

“Thanks.”

She gives a pleasant goodbye to you, and you’re approaching closer as she walks away.

“Got caught by Miyako, huh?”

“Well, I guess. I was taking out my trash, and then she asked all these questions with the tray of onigiri; I couldn’t tell her to go away.”

“You should! She goes after nearly every bachelor that moves here but don’t try it. I’ve seen too many guys get beaten to a pulp by her husband; it’s a dangerous game.”

“Oh, oh no. I wasn’t going to–”

“I didn’t think you would,” and you have the confidence to give him a wink, “you just moved here a couple weeks ago, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m apartment 438. Where are you?”

“Oh, just across from the other side, but there’s never any parking over there! I really am only over here for work,” you gesture to yourself with a small shrug, “law firm.”

Ah, so that’s the reason for the briefcase. He gives a small smile in return. Has he been nervous this entire time?

“Well, government job. So, we’re in the same boat.”

“Hah! I guess so. If you’re ever in trouble, then call me! Unless it’s something pretty bad, I just do real estate stuff.”

“Real estate?”

“You don’t have to pretend to be interested in it! But it’s not bad, not like you think.”

“No, I wasn’t lying. I could never go through law school; that’s very admirable.”

He’s pleased that your cheeks lift unconsciously, murmuring a “thank you.”

The two of you linger in the presence of each other for a minute or two longer, but it feels like ages as the breeze brushes past the two of you under the sun's warmth. You’re the first to break, sighing and offering your hand, “I’ve gotta go, but it was so nice to meet you!”

Your hand is soft, not scarred like his that came from years of working out and being rougher in his younger years. Electricity raves through his veins when you give him a firm shake.

“Yes, you too. Have a good day at work,” he feels his cheeks burn unconsciously at the statement, fingers curling around the onigiri like a lifeline.

“I’ll need it!”

He tries not to watch you get into your gray Toyota, so he busies himself with inspecting the gift he was given till he hears your engine rev. The last look he gives you wasn’t meant to feel like he was yearning to talk to you more, but he’s afraid it does when he catches your eye, and you only smile.

The apartment is cozy, but as he eats his onigiri, he wonders if you’d want to share some with him sometime.

“I’m getting too wrapped up in this,” he mumbles at the small island in his kitchen, “I’ve got to get to work.”

It’s a slow work day.

“A lady? Who’d you meet? That’s great, Todoroki!”

Midoriya blabbers eagerly to him over the phone, having to catch up on each other’s lives, “Yeah, she saved me from some old lady. She was hitting on me.”

“An old woman!? Wow, was she the one who gave you onigiri?”

“Yup.”

“Wow! Gosh, I can’t believe it! I mean, didn’t you say she was married?! That’s just crazy, Todoroki. I don’t know what I’d do!”

“She was not going to leave me alone,” he stirs a pot of marinara sauce lazily, “but everyone here is very nice.”

He doesn’t say your name, but he means you.

“Mhm, that’s good. Uraraka and I have been good. We’re looking at buying a house!”

“Right, how’s that going?”

He’s able to lose himself in the conversation and dinner-making. It’s peaceful; it feels like home. His lights are low, which adds to the lighting, and he can’t help but feel lonely. Usually, at home, he’d smell the soft perfume of his mother or the sizzle of food from Fuyumi.

Todoroki tried to put the lost memories out of his mind. Midoriya was here, and he supposed that was never a sad thing.

“Sounds like you guys have a plan,” the sauce is nearly done, and he finally takes a second to rest against the counter, “I think it’s going to go great. I can always help you with moving when the time comes.”

“Thank you so much! I think we’re pretty steady on what we wanna do….”

It only takes a flickering gaze around the room to cause Todoroki to be shaken to his core. He ended up with a nice balcony in his apartment and opted for curtains during move-in.

This time though, this evening, he’d left them wide open. Wide open and exposed directly to your apartment. You were not only inside but walking around half-naked.

“Todoroki?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry, what were you saying?”

“Oh! I was just saying would you prefer gray walls or white ones? We still can’t decide.”

Picking up your living room is a menial task to you, but not to the man drooling over how you bend over and how your panties outline the plush fat of your ass. White panties with lace.

“...White is good, maybe a bit off-white.”

“That’s what I was thinking!”

The sauce starts to boil over, “shit!”

“Is everything okay?”

He’s got his phone trapped between his shoulder and ear, rushing to turn down the heat and making quick glances at the sliding doors, “Yeah! Yeah, everything’s fine. My dinner’s ready; I have to go.”

“Okay! Hope it’s super good; talk to you later! Bye.”

“Yup, thanks. Bye.”

The phone is slid away on the counter, the sauce is lowered to a medium-low, and his eyes are finally free to enjoy the show that’s been stirring guilt and arousal in his gut. You look good. More than good, so good that he can’t be bothered to turn away in shame. He’s locked in, and you have no idea what you’re doing as your prance around your living room.

You’re just cleaning up. No big deal, but it feels like something is watching your every movement. It only clicks once you reach the sliding glass door to see Todoroki’s “empty” apartment gazing back at you. It makes sense now; you must’ve been putting on a grand show for him while doing your chores.

Something in your brain whispers an idea to you. One that makes you want to go “Eureka!”

It’s a bad idea, an awful idea, to not shut the curtains. However… How often do you get to tease an attractive man? How often do you get to enthrall someone in your figure, your body? It’s an awful idea to turn around and take a nice long stretch down to your toes, but you don’t care.

Maybe he’s imagining filling you up or getting off to the fact that you think he’s not watching. The thought strangely excites you. Sure, it’s immoral, but the fact that eyes are tracking your every curve and committing them to memory is so alluring. You’re definitely going to use your vibrator later.

Todoroki’s hard in his sweatpants; the indentation is practically obscene. A flush spreads through his body, making him unbearably hot. There’s a weird other being inside him that wants to march over to your door and fuck you till you love him. But… he’s being a creep. You’d be scared, uncomfortable! He would never in a million years try to do something to you, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t drink in a long look at your plump ass practically in his face.

But then you do something unexpected; you turn around. Todoroki's reflexes are fast, and the minute your leg bends, he’s acutely aware that if he doesn’t move, he’s going to get caught! Two-toned hair dives towards the floor, the thump definitely irritating his downstairs neighbors as he crawls till he’s behind his sofa and safely able to peer his eyes around the arm.

You look askance like you’re waiting to see something. Todoroki watches you wait a minute more before stepping forward and swiftly tugging the curtains shut. The show’s over, but his cock is still hard in his boxers, and Todoroki thinks it might be time for a shower.

He fists his cock needily under the warm water, breathing your name in soft exhales as he works himself to the end. The cum splatters lewdly against the tiles, and he’s shocked to find his knees weak. What were you doing to him?

Neither of you sees each other again for a while. Your work takes up so much of your time, and your heart withers watching the daylight pass by in your office. Todoroki has been busy, too, he’s closer to the heart of the city, and the daily commute has worn him thin. It’s exhausting, and the two of you are not even the slightest bit excited to read the flier posted up on your doors.

[SHIKETSU COMPLEX MONTHLY BARBECUE AND PICNIC!]

Todoroki’s eyes are assaulted by the bright colors that jump out at him. There are many reasons not to go. He is so tired, Miyako might be there, he doesn’t know anyone like that, he has no kids, he doesn’t know how to barbecue…

His mind keeps circling back to you like a train stuck in a loop on the track. It’s unbelievable that he’s rationalizing attending this event just because he thinks you might be there. You probably won’t go; why would you? You’re way too busy. He tries to convince himself to walk back to the apartment as he makes his way to the barbecue. You won’t be there; he’s an idiot.

Yet there you are, under the hot sun shining in a warm yellow sundress that contrasts your brown skin beautifully. You’ve adorned yourself with gold jewelry again. His heart flutters in his chest. Todoroki can’t believe he’s there and that you were there too.

“Hello, handsome,” you smile warmly as he approaches a picnic table with pre-made potato salad, “did you make this?”

“Huh? Hello, and I-uh, well,” he’s unsure whether to lie or tell the truth, “I don’t know!”

He’s lucky he’s handsome because you laugh lightly and point to the artichoke dip, “Honestly, I don’t know if I made that either,” and then you’re humming with a warm hand on his shoulder, “unless you’re a secret housewife, no one cares that the bachelor doesn’t know how to cook.”

“Is that really my nickname?”

“To some, yeah. Especially Miyako; I swear she’s been trying to scout you out from when you arrived. She’s here with her husband and kids too! She has no shame.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty weird. How have you been, by the way?”

There’s a clear elephant in the room to him; he can’t get your body out of his head. His senses go haywire every time you move, flashing a show of skin. Hopefully, you have no idea.

“Oh, good! Good, just working. I haven’t seen you around often these days; early commute?”

“Mhm, it takes up a lot of time. I don’t mind being in the city, but it’s hard to come back home and do it all over again,” he smiles warmly, “I feel jealous of you.”

“Oh, trust me, once you’re spending long hours in an office and leaving when the sun’s down, you won’t be saying that anymore!”

It’s just a friendly neighbor chat, but it comes so easily for the two of you. It’s not like you guys are chatting for the second time ever, but as if you’ve been friends for years, getting caught up in reminiscing. You launch the dice, scoring snake eyes.

“Hey, I know you mentioned you weren’t too handy the last time we talked, but how are you with electronics? Televisions?”

“I-I used to live in a dorm, so I know a little. Is something wrong?”

“My tv has been having connective issues! I don’t know what the problem is, but I was hoping you might be able to come and look at it whenever you’re free.”

He’s being baited like a shark; he knows this too well. It’s an extremely attractive olive branch. At this point, it’s not even a branch but a whole Garden of Eden planted by you for him. He can’t wait to bite the apple.

Todoroki nods genially, “Of course, I can take a quick look at it. No promises if I don’t know what to do; I’m not an expert.”

You’re sipping your cocktail with a coy look, “I’m sure you’re an expert in other things. If you watch something enough, you’ll eventually pick it up.”

The comment makes Todoroki go stock still, eyes blown out and face deadly pale as you shrug up at him. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but you’re waltzing away to engage with some of the mothers. That had to be a dig; you had to know what he did that evening. Maybe inviting him over was a plot to kill him for being a spying creep.

Then there’s the chance that you… liked it. It feels impossible to even consider that option, but it was clear that you weren’t exactly mad. You would’ve confronted him straight away; he’s sure of that. So, what was he to do? Pretend to be innocent? Tell you that he thought you were extremely beautiful and sexy, so much so that he watched you through your window while you weren’t wearing clothes?

A man offers him a beer; Togami, he says. Todoroki is left to sip the acrid drink and ponder whether he should skip town.

You keep looking at him, and you know the other moms are starting to notice your wandering eye fixated on the lone wolf. Aka, a mother of two, grins eagerly, “See something you like? Ah, young love!”

“It’s not young love. We’ve barely talked, Aka.”

Mayumi chimes in, “Really? It looks like he wants to talk to you; every time you look away, he looks back at you!”

“Are you being serious? You guys are crazy; nothing is going on!”

They’re swirling around you like viper snakes. Their lives are so consumed by their children that they see themselves in you, and they’re poking and prodding like you’re their next do-over, “Why don’t you talk to him?”

“I actually did, Mayumi,” you shrug, “it was good! Nothing crazy, not like how I know you guys are thinking. What dirty minds!”

Obviously, the mothers were gossipy, but you wonder if maybe he needed an extra push. Due to your line of work, you were familiar with pushing someone right till they crack like an egg. You’d left him looking like a sorrowful puppy, and the alcoholic drinks were brewing fiercely in your tummy. Liquid courage runs through you, and you set your margarita down to smooth out your dress.

Maybe they were right; maybe you should do something. Prod him a bit.

“I’m going to be right back,” you mumble to the gaggle of women that debate the current happenings of Ema, a new mom that entered the block and seemed desperate to wreak havoc. You’d met her, and she was actually quite nice.

But that’s not the point. No, you’re straightening your posture and sauntering over with a sway of your hips. You were going to do this.

Your eyes are locked onto Todoroki’s figure as you confidently walk towards him, “Todoroki! Are you getting ready to head out?”

He gives you a small nod, looking around before nudging you, “It looks about time. Are you?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I am. I’m looking forward to just straight-up relaxing.”

“Right,” and he seems to be brimming with liquid confidence as well because he offers, “Do you want me to walk you back?”

It feels weird to be asked that; it’s not a direct question but an offering. Despite that, though, there’s a feeling bubbling underneath the surface. Both of you know that you could give in right here and now, forgo the traditional courting and go straight to fucking like wild animals.

“Gladly, thank you,” he follows with you leading the way, “I think you fit in well.”

“Huh?”

“I said, I think you fit in well. In the neighborhood, you really round it all out. Plus, everyone likes you.”

“Not everyone,” his face tinges pink, so cute.

“Yeah, yeah,” stopping at the steps to my door, you shrug at him, “Do you want to come inside for a second?”

It’s another checkpoint. Another moment that makes one pause and think, “Is this it?” Another moment Todoroki barrels through, eagerly accepting the invitation and kicking his shoes off at the front of your home.

He seems to really take in your apartment as you scurry to make a polite pot of tea. Heterochromatic eyes sweep over the large glass doors; he doesn’t hide his open gawking. You tug your bottom lip between your teeth while pouring boiling water over tea leaves, “I take it to mean you like my apartment?”

“Like? I-I mean, it’s….”

Todoroki trails off, honing in on the pictures on the mantle.

“It’s very homely,” he turns back to look at you, smiling softly, “It looks great.”

“Ah, thank you. Tea?”

The man gladly takes it, and you can feel the lingering warmth of his comments as you chit-chat. You wonder what he’s thinking; his curiosity is on full display. You could come up with a few ideas. Before you know it, Todoroki is checking his watch and giving you a straight face.

“It’s getting late,” his cheeks twitch to a frown before remaining neutral, “but it was really nice to spend time together.”

Does everything he says have romantic undertones? You nod, covering your flushing cheeks with a hand before an idea strikes you. It slips out on accident; you didn’t mean for it to come out, really!

“I agree,” and the bomb drops, “I’d expect a great view from your window tonight.”

Your eyes flicker to his darkly. He’s swallowing, staring at you like a piece of meat as you lay the trap out for him. Neither of you says anything; what should you say? One of you could be bold, could prompt a kiss or more, but you don’t. Todoroki gives a light laugh, gathering his things with a lingering hand ghosting the small of your back as you escort him out.

“Goodnight,” he murmurs lowly, and you think you could kiss him.

“Goodnight!” the door locks with a click.

Todoroki sits patiently like it's a movie theater where he's waiting for his favorite film. It’s dazzling how the curtains peel back to show your partially clothed body facing away from the glass. You only have the kitchen light on, illuminating your soft curves and tan skin better than any ring light could. Todoroki sits in the darkness, not wanting to be seen but to watch. To be an active audience member as his hand trails down to grip and stroke his cock.

Swaying your hips, Todoroki finally gets a glimpse of your sweet face. It’s different from earlier. It was much more innocent before, truly the girl next door type. But this, this? You were something absolutely out of this world; he noted it in the way your eyelids lowered as you salaciously gripped your vibrator or even the way your lingerie left nothing to the imagination.

“Fuck…” he spoke to the quiet air.

He couldn’t hear you, but it was enough to see you. Starting slowly by groping your chest, nipples peeking through the lace of your bra as his eyes continuously dip down to your pussy. Covered, but if he squinted, Todoroki thought he could see your wetness starting to soak through.

You moan, hips twitching as you tug your nipple a bit harsher than the last time. Soft lips part to breathe as a hand snakes down the valley between your breasts and down the slope of your stomach. Manicured nails stop at the waistband of your panties; your eyes seem to search across the darkness for the sight of your lover boy. For a second, you think you see a turquoise eye in the darkness as your fingers make quick work on your clit.

You both know you’re staring right at each other, and neither can look away as your hands cover themselves in slickness and arousal. It’s heady and so risky with such open windows, and yet your orgasms are driving you toward the edge faster than you’ve ever felt before.

“God, I wish I could feel you,” Todoroki groans, thumb rubbing the slit and feeling his abs tighten, “I need you.”

“Oh god, I’m gonna cum Todoroki,” you pant into the open air, squirming and fucking yourself on your fingers and toy.

It comes all at once, spurting onto the web of his thumb and fingers as Todoroki cums to your wriggling form. It overwhelms you, too, body arching and seemingly bursting with pleasure when you reach your peak. You both came quicker than expected, your legs falling closed as you steadied your breathing. Even under the low light, the clear droplets of your arousal staining the carpet makes Todoroki’s balls ache.

You’ve won again. You’ve once again captured the heart and dick of Shoto Todoroki, and he can feel the feelings ruminating inside him as you playfully clean up your living room. His eyes track your figure like he’ll forget you the minute he blinks. This can’t go on any longer; both of you know this. But then you’re drawing the curtains, and the show ends.

By the evening, Todoroki sets a plan to get exactly what he wants. And you’re none the wiser.

It’s been a while since the two of you had crossed paths. Your work has stolen your energy, leaving you to come home exhausted and weary every day. Normally you’d perk up at seeing the boy you’d come to feel warmth for if you even caught him, but his life seemed to be getting in the way. He always kept his curtains closed these days.

Then, you notice it on your day off, cozy in a sweatsuit with a mug of steaming coffee. The curtains are open, which leaves his apartment looking like a ghost town. It’s been a moment since you’ve seen the light filter in like that since you’ve felt that familiar feeling brewing at the bottom of your stomach.

Your body sits on the plush couch, sipping your drink and waiting patiently. You’re giddy as Todoroki walks into view. The show is about to start, and unlike you, he’s making sure to give an eyeful. He’s never looked more confident; in fact, he’s never put himself on display like this.

Was he really doing this all for you?

The thought is forgotten as a black t-shirt is peeled off to show rippling muscles and brown nipples that pebbled as he rubbed over his chest. He was carved to perfection, maybe by God himself. Todoroki starts slow, blunt nails scratching lightly over his pecs, down his abs, and stopping at the band of his sweatpants.

He looks up at you through his bangs and your pussy throbs. The man flicks his hair back, hand gliding and palming his cock over the thick fabric. Todoroki must’ve already worked himself up, you note as you watch his half-hard cock create a sizable imprint in his sweats.

You’re biting your lip, trying not to reach down and touch yourself. He looks so enticing. Part of you wants to jump up and break down his door, pulling him into a sharp kiss as he…

Todoroki moans behind the glass, head tilting back as his Adam’s apple bobs. You can’t see exactly what he’s doing, but it’s enough to make you feel… hot. Almost angry, he had the nerve to touch himself in front of you yet play shy when you were face to face. If he was going to be so bold as to unashamedly stroke himself, you’d be even bolder by darting up out of your seat and running out the front door.

You miss his smirk as he pulls on his shirt and waits for the piercing sound of your knuckles rapping against the door. After a moment, he hears it and steadily opens it with a teasing smile.

“Hello,” he greets casually, despite the erection straining the front of his pants.

Neither of you can wait anymore as you nearly tackle him with a kiss. He easily holds you, big hands cupping your waist and pawing at your ass. It’s desperate; it’s passionate. Todoroki grunts as his back hits his kitchen island, “do you wanna do this right now?”

“I don’t think I can wait,” your lips graze over him, “I know you need me.”

Todoroki pulls you closer till his leg slides between yours. The small motion makes you lose focus at the delicious pressure against your clit; your arms delicately wind around his broad shoulders as he bruises your lips with another kiss.

“Yeah, yeah, I do,” he murmurs, spit slicking his lips.

His tongue, pink and sweet, glides over yours like butter. The two of you fight to win, each trying to usurp the power of the other and take control. You scratch against his back, Todoroki presses his leg against your soaked pussy, and your hand sneaks down to squeeze his cock that soaks pre-cum into his boxers.

At some point, it goes from a battle to simply indulging in the good feelings. Saliva pools in your mouth as you dry-hump each other like animals. Whimpers echo in the air, but he caves first.

“Wait,” he pauses, chest heaving and lips glossy, “let me…”

The small of your back meets the counter before Todoroki captures your lips in another kiss. He’s grown confident, fingers cradling your wrist and hands fondling your tits.

“Ah! Todoroki,” your body melts easily into his palm, “take me, god. I’ve been waiting long enough.”

“Have you? I think I’ve waited for longer,” his teeth graze over the curve of your neck, “you started it.”

His hands expertly sneak up your shirt within minutes; it makes you wonder what else he’s hiding from you. Your fingers curl into his hair easily. Tugging lightly, the pleasure and blushed face of the man before you made your core throb.

“Then let me finish it,” you murmur softly, hand sliding down to his sweatpants.

“Mhm,” the two of you stare at each other as your hand slides past the cotton barriers to touch smooth, hot skin.

Then, his eyes look blown out, and his hands are spinning you around so fast you nearly get whiplash. Excitement shakes through your body like bursting fireworks as you help tug down your bottoms.

Large hands eagerly spread your ass, Todoroki watching your hole clench and drip arousal down your thigh. His mouth instinctually waters, and his knees want to give in. You would taste so sweet. Todoroki can’t keep his eyes off your drooling pussy. You’re mewling, though, impatient as a thumb runs over your slit before rubbing tight circles against your clit, “You’re so beautiful.”

He slips a finger in, leaving your words choked and broken, “T-thank you.”

“Of course, baby,” he hopes the nickname lands, “oh, you liked that.”

It’s embarrassing to hear the squelch of his fingers inside you. You clench easily at his motions when he flicks his fingers up harshly or calls you such sweet names. Even he chuckles at your obvious arousal.

“Shut the hell up…!

You still squeak as he fingers your cunt. His fingers are reaching spots that even yours couldn’t; it feels so good. One hand of his keeps you pinned by the small of your back while the other eagerly reveals the wet and clicking sounds of your pussy.

“I wouldn’t be so rude.”

The smack against your ass makes stars burst behind your eyes. You could cum like this in minutes.

“Please, Todoroki,” you weakly beg for mercy, needing nothing more than to feel the primal thrusts of him fucking his cum into you.

“Fuck,” he breathes into your neck, “I need to fuck you.”

“Yeah, yeah, you do,” breathless, you go up on your tiptoes, “Please fuck me, Todoroki.”

He hadn’t even prompted you to beg, yet you acted perfectly like his own awaiting toy. Todoroki can’t line himself up against you fast enough, blunt head pressing against your needy hole while you try to breathe through the inevitable stretch.

You were prepared well. The stretch of his cock as he slowly slides into you feels like magic, and you’re keening like you’re in heat. It’s hot, overwhelming, it smells like his apartment, and he was balls deep inside of you.

“Aah, fuck,” his voice warbles, fingers leaving clear prints on your rounded hips.

“So good, god, so good!”

There’s a soft “pap” when his hips meet yours, but then he’s immediately diving into both of your pleasures. He dials in with thrusts, shaking you and churning your insides while you can only grab for purchase against the counter.

It leaves you breathless, and you’re squeezing like a vice around him as he pumps in and out of you. It’s a delicious rhythm; the push and pull are so terribly addicting that you can feel the swirl of your orgasm at the pit of your stomach.

“You’re squeezing me so tight; gonna cum? Gonna cum all over my cock?”

You babble nonsensically as he reaches around to rub your clit. His hands slip over your clit, but he can see your manicured toes curling as he makes you succumb to him.

“Todoroki, Todoroki! I’m cumming–oh god, I-I’m cumming!”

For a minute, everything goes blank. As if you’ve been flashbang.

“Good girl,” Todoroki whispers in the shell of his ear as he chases his own pleasure, “You’re so good for me.”

It crashes down onto you hard. Your entire body trembles, muscles locking up as you cum hard, creaming on him as he watches in awe. Todoroki releases a heavy groan as he finally fills you. It’s white-hot, and he heaves over you. His heavy body completely smothers you in a way that feels reassuring. In a way that feels loving.

The two of you lay still in the post-coital glow, catching your breaths and murmuring soft words. “Let me get you a tissue,” he says as he kisses your shoulder.

You’re unsure why your heart aches as he cleans up your tender pussy and picks up your bottoms.

“Hey, you know I….”

Todoroki raises an eyebrow as you trail off.

“I’m not that kind of woman,” you say with an air of finality, “just so you know.”

The man before you blinks before giving you a genuine smile.

“I never thought you were.”

You leave soon after, giving him a sweet kiss and quickly bounding to your apartment. In the evening, Todoroki catches you crossing your living room. You pause, smiling, before blowing a kiss and shutting the blinds.

#boku no hero academia x reader #bnha smut #boku no hero academia smut #my hero academia smut #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki smut #todoroki shoto smut #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki shoto x you #todoroki shoto fanart

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spiderrrling · 2 years

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Please don't go - Eddie Munson x F! Reader 18+

Summary - After a night with your boyfriend he is reluctant to let you leave, so he has other methods for getting you to stay

Warnings - male masturbation, dirty talk to the max, kissing, hickeys, piv sex, mentions of eating out, crying, not proofread, smoking

Word Count - 3.1k

A/N - Yes its inspired by that scene from Make Up

Masterlist - Taglist - 18+ Taglist - Requests are open

All parties are 18+ and consenting, minors do not engage!

Comments, feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Eddie was laid out on his bed, a lit cigarette hanging lazily between his lips as his eyes followed you like a hawk as you walked around his room trying to find the clothes he had graciously helped you with scattering earlier.

Clothes he had tossed around his room in desperate fleeting moments when he longed to explore your body one more time.

His head cocked slightly to the side as he intently watched you trying to get dressed. It had taken some time, but you were finally comfortable enough being naked around him in such a casual setting, and not minding him staring you down whatever chance he got.

Even though your back was turned towards him you could feel his eyes on your body as you slid up your underwear, letting the soft and delicate fabric rest against your hips and covering up your naked body from his view.

You glanced quickly over your shoulder to look at him where he was laid out in his bed. Eddie was laying propped up on his elbow atop one of the stray pillows he had, sheets pulled up dangerously low around his hip so you could still see the dark patch of hair leading down the bottom of his stomach towards his pelvis. Messy hair ever so slightly sticking to his forehead with post sex sweat, the unruly curls creating a dark halo around him.

“Like what you see sweetheart?” Eddie raised an eyebrow at you teasingly, his smug grin not budging from his face for a single second as he drank up every drop of attention you were willing to shed him. “You know you could stay, take another proper look at what I have to offer.”

He was right, it was difficult not to stare at him. He looked so tempting laid out on his bed and you could already feel yourself longing to touch him again. A persistent feeling which never truly went away unless you were tangled limbs and all with him. Your fingers seemed to crave the feeling of his smooth skin against them, your lips wished to brush against his until you were both bruised and breathless.

“I have a curfew, which I have to meet, unless you want me grounded.” Your eyes rolled ever so slightly at his comment, thankful your back was turned to him so he couldn’t see. It wasn’t uncommon for Eddie to get like this after sex, thoughts clouded with post orgasm thoughts where every fleeting touch or look was a dangerous invitation to rile him up again. “You are the reason I’ve already broken it twice just this month already y’know.”

“Can’t help myself angel, you’re just too tempting.” His voice was low, something else mixed into it, but you couldn’t place your finger on what exactly it was just yet. “So beautiful…”

Your eyes roamed the mess of Eddie’s room desperately searching for your bra, missing the warm embrace of Eddie and his bed, the cold air brushing over your skin was enough to send goosebumps racing over your skin and pebbling your nipples ever so slightly.

Finally, your eyes locked with the bra, carelessly discarded on top of a clothing pile which had started to form beneath his desk. It was when you bent down that you heard it.

A barely audible sound which rang through the room, and the pieces of information finally clicked in your brain. Eddie must have seen the wheels turning in your brain because you could hear a low chuckle coming from behind you.

Was he- would he- he would, you thought to yourself, quickly biting down on your bottom lip and feeling heat rushing to your cheeks.

Carefully peeking at him from the corner of your eye you noticed something you had failed to observe the first time, his other hand snaked beneath the soft bedding which covered his bottom half.

It didn’t take a highschool graduate to figure out what he was doing, his smug grin immediately appearing on his face as he noticed you trying to look ever so subtly at him.

“Like what you see sweetheart?” Eddie echoed his question from earlier, but this time you could hear the slight lustfulness which seeped and lingered through the tone of his voice. Warmth immediately rushed to your cheeks and you did your best to turn away from him while you slid your bra over your chest and clasped it.

He didn’t care that you looked at him, in fact he enjoyed it quite immensely.

“I’m loving what I’m seeing.” His eyes were still roaming your body with almost an alarming sense of desperation, he needed to be touching you. But his hand would have to do for now. Carefully running up and down the length of him with slow calculated moves, the feeling of his own hand would never be able to compare to yours wrapped around his cock.

“Seeing you like this… my girl half naked and standing in my room, that is more than enough for me to think about.” He groaned again, louder this time, letting the sweet sound hang in the air between them. “All these nasty thoughts running through my head cannot be good…”

“I believe I’m half dressed.” You mumbled quietly, knowing he would hear you anyway, you were looking for your shirt among the countless items of clothing and you could swear he managed to hide your clothes from you so you wouldn’t leave.

“Y’know I'm a pessimist baby.” How he could manage to stay flirty like this you would never be able to understand, your mind and thoughts would be muddled and unintelligible by now. “Besides, I prefer you half dressed, preferably sitting on my lap and not so far away…”

“Where I can play with your hair, leave little love bites down that pretty neck of yours, properly mark you up you know.” The tone of his voice was so tempting, so sickeningly intoxicating that your mind involuntarily pictured the scene he was painting for you with his words. You instinctively ran your fingers over the fresh marks Eddie had placed on your neck just moments earlier.

“It’s ok to look at me, I know you want to baby c’mon.” Eddie hissed quietly as he teased you, but your back was still turned to him. And of course he was correct, it was so tempting to turn around and drink in the sight of him. But you knew that if you did you would not be leaving.

“What would you do next?” Your voice was real quiet, barely above a whisper as you stood frozen in his room, any thoughts of finding your shirt completely gone and Eddie knew he’s got you hooked.

“Unclasp your bra, letting it fall from your body so I can play with your boobs, kiss and suck on your hard nipples- fuck you really have the most amazing tits sweetheart.” His voice dropped and the persona he was putting on disappeared for a moment.

Eddie’s eyes were closed tightly as he pictured the mental image of you in front of him. He was in complete anguish, you were so close yet wouldn’t let him see you completely.

He was being careful and extra cautious with his movement to not push himself too hard too fast. Carefully he swiped his thumb over his red hot tip where precum was beading, making him groan out and his hips buck up into his hand involuntarily.

The sounds falling from Eddie’s lips made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, at this point it had become a game of how long would it take before you caved in and returned to his embrace once more.

“Then- then I would run my hands down your body, over those cotton panties you’re wearing, just gently brush my fingers against the outside of your pretty pussy just to feel you jolt in my arms.” You could hear that his breaths were picking up as he imagined playing with you, his words were enough for you to reflexively clench around nothing, feeling your own arousal slowly returning to take hold of your body. “Push aside your panties, feel how wet you probably are- always so wet and needy for me aren’t you sweetheart? Slowly work a finger into your sweet little pussy, feel you clench around me-”

A weak whine fell from your lips and Eddie could have sworn it was the most heavenly sound he had ever heard. Your entire body shuddered at the thought.

“Yeah you like the sound of that- knew you would, my dirty girl.” Eddie didn’t need your input anymore, his body had seemingly gone into autopilot, as if this was a scenario that ran through his mind on a regular basis. “If I had time I would lay you out, spend hours marking up your thighs, eat you out until you’re dizzy and crying, and have lost count of how many times you’ve cum on my tongue- y’know I can never get enough of how you taste, my own personal feast…”

You knew that threat was real, and it wouldn’t be the first time he did something like that. “Is this- is this what you think about-”

“When you’re not here to help me?” You hummed softly in response, rubbing your thighs together as you started growing increasingly more desperate for his touch.

“It sure is sweetheart- but now- now I might have to settle for fucking you instead, draping your legs over my shoulders as I fuck you into my mattress- or have you straddle me, god you look so fucking perfect when you ride me- just want to see you cry for me tears running down those pretty cheeks as you cry my name…” Eddie’s breaths were picking up and his words slowly becoming hurried in his mouth, a telltale sign he was approaching his high. And you knew that this was your chance.

“Are you really this needy already baby?” You giggled a little bit to yourself before turning around and pouting at him ever so slightly, not being able to help yourself from teasing him when he was in this state.

“For you?” Eddie looked up at you with questioning eyes, but you could see that smug tone to them which always managed to hold you captive, his movements had slowed as you approached him. “Always.”

He looked so good laying in his bed, the sheets tangled around him and falling down far enough that he was practically on full display for you. Eddie instinctively let himself go so you could climb into his lap and he could take you in his arms, and he groaned as you pushed up against his painfully hard erection.

Eddie smelled sharply of fresh cigarette smoke as you inched closer to him, his hand still fast at work even as the space between you grew closer. Picking the cigarette from his lips and taking a slow long drag of it, letting him see your lips wrapping around the bud of the cigarette, before you put it out on the ashtray on his bedside table.

“Tell me more about these fantasies of yours…” Your words were drawn out, painfully soft in his ear and your hand replaced where he had been moments before, working your hand around his hard cock with expertise. “Show me what you think about when I’m not here-”

Eddie did not need to be told twice, he was already desperate to be touching you, his strong hands grasping around your waist and pushing you down into the bed, letting your back hit the bed with a soft thud.

You pressed your kneecap against your thigh, swaying from side to side as you watched Eddie move.

He shifted above you, grabbing the second condom of the night out of the nightstand and quickly sliding it on before lingering above you, his hand grabbing around your wrist and pushing into the bed to keep his weight steady.

You grabbed his waist with your free hand as he hovered above you, rubbing gentle circles into his soft and supple skin. There was something strangely attractive about his waist. Eddie’s lips brushed yours softly before without any warning he kissed you with enough force to make stars dance along the corners of your vision.

Eddie’s fingers trailed down your body, neither of you in the mood or need for foreplay, both of you already heavily riled up from Eddie’s little show. His free hand grabbing his hard cock, pushing aside your underwear and swiping along your slick entrance, gathering your arousal and letting it coat him before he slowly pushed into you, almost whimpering into your mouth as he felt how wet you were.

There was a soft dull pain as he pushed into you, you were still sore from the night’s earlier activities. But you couldn’t care less, craving the feeling of Eddie completely filling you up, your hand was still on his hip, desperately trying to drag him closer to you.

Ever so slightly thrusting in and out of you until Eddie managed to completely sink into you, his hips resting against yours for a moment, letting you get used to the feel of him, as if you two hadn’t been in this exact position less than an hour earlier.

“I believe you said something about my legs-” You whispered coyly, letting go of his hip to drag your fingers through his unruly curls. Eddie’s face was pressed against the side of your neck, breathing in the soft scent of your skin. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Eddie let go of your wrist, so both of his hands could hook beneath your knees, pulling them over his shoulders with ease, his hands gripping around your thighs as he steadied himself, the cold bite of his metal rings was a stark contrast to your burning hot skin.

Using your thighs as leverage over you he slowly started to grind against you, his own knees going weak at the sensation of your slick gummy gripping and pulling him in further. He had already been teetering at the edge of his orgasm when you climbed into his lap, and now it was taking every ounce of concentration in him to not spoil the fun too soon.

Eddie’s fingers almost immediately started attacking your clit, rubbing harsh and sloppy circles to the already sensitive bundle of nerves, making your body convulse against him, whines of desperation spilling from your lips before you could stop yourself.

You were always more sensitive with round two, and with his teasing you knew you wouldn’t be able to last long, and you doubted Eddie would be able to either. This was sex in its purest form, Eddie’s hips were rutting against yours with enough force his bed moved with each thrust and you were almost worried he was going to bruise you.

His brows knitted together in heavy concentration as he focused on fucking you just the way he knew you liked, his hard cock brushing against the spot that made black spots appear in your vision and your back arch off the bed. Clenching around him tighter and tighter with each thrust gave you, quickly building to your high as he tried to keep his own at bay.

“Eddie I- I can’t-” You didn’t need to say more, he could tell you were close, your ragged breaths mixed with moans on your sweet lips was more than enough to tell him that you were about to cum again. Eddie’s sweet lips were viciously attacking your neck, lapping at old marks and leaving new ones. “C’mon sweetheart, let me feel you cum around my cock-”

In the end it was always his words that managed to push you over the edge, his ruthless thrusts against you and toying at your clit became too much and your orgasm crashed into you with enough force to make tears sting at the corners of your eyes.

Eddie’s orgasm followed yours in rapid succession, letting himself go and finally reaching the high he had been teasing for himself, almost collapsing onto you as he released inside the condom, your thighs pressing against your tummy, pressing you firmly between his body and the firm mattress beneath you as you milked him through his release.

When Eddie reluctantly pulled out of you, you could feel tears stinging in your eyes and threatening to spill over any second, and Eddie reveled at the sight of the mess he had made out of you beneath him.

Shuffling to stand up on his knees so your legs could fall down on either side of him, the rush of blood finally returning to them. Your chest was rising and falling with sporadic intervals as you tried to recover from your high. Beads of sweat pearling along your chest and tummy.

Eddie slumped down next to you, his arms immediately finding your body and slotting you against him before pressing a soft kiss to your temple, letting his lips linger there as you both still came down from your highs.

“There is no way you jerk off while thinking about eating me out.” You finally broke the silence between you and you earned one of Eddie’s genuine laughs. The kind that made your stomach twist and heart flutter with nerves even though you were reveling together in your post orgasm bliss. “Cross my heart and hope to die, you’re absolutely stunning when you cum.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

You didn’t bother to fight him on it, you knew you weren’t going to win no matter how hard you tried. Instead you simply enjoyed the fleeting feeling of Eddie’s arms around you, your mind still foggy and without a proper thought.

It was only when you glanced down at the watch around Eddie’s wrist and groaned hopelessly that reality came crashing back to you. “I hope this all was worth it to you because I am going to be grounded for the rest of my life.” You mumbled directly into Eddie’s chest, dreading your parents' reactions when you inevitably returned home.

“Don’t worry, I’ll just sneak through your window.” He whispered to you, painfully optimistically and starkly out of character for him, but you supposed some part of him might be willing to go that far for you. “But if you’re already going to be grounded for the rest of your life, what’s the harm in staying the night?”

And you did reckon that he had a point.

Mutuals - @uglypastels @catastrofhe @eddiemunsons-girl @eddiemunsonbrxinrot

18+ Taglist - @obiwanakenobi @ghoulsgraveyard @xbreezymeadowsx @a-villain-vying-for-attention @meaganjm @ediemunsonswife36 @AMK0127Sadie @eddiemunsonbby @bloommieb @heebyjeebiebbs @mun5on @salome-c @milly-louise @imagine-all-the-imagines @kbakery @sweetpeapod @heebyjeebiebbs @eddieshellfireshirt @Sunsetenigma @hellfire-state-of-mind @cumbersome-robes @m-rae23 @aerdna023 @magnoliakegmm @adoredconnor @escape-in-time-x @sirpascal @eddiemusnon @eddiemunsons-girl @iddieforeddiemunson @simpingoverfictionalppl @ruinedbythehobbit @xcarabear @kaqua @KelpsieFynn @black-and-white1 @bluetreecloud20

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wen-kexing-apologist · 4 days

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Unknown, Ep 10: Qian and Yuan

I’ve had a few people ask if I was going to do a breakdown post for the final scene between Qian and Yuan. Admittedly, I was not planning on doing so, but I like the attention 😈 so I will!

Last we left off, Qian and San Pang were having a very difficult conversation, San Pang forced Qian to think about the future and was kicked out as a result.

We start with a moment with each character to themselves. Qian closes the door behind San Pang and we see him hand at the door for a second, head hung in a way that feels very tired. He walks away from the door back to the couch to grab his glasses and wrap up the evening, when the camera cuts to Yuan sitting on the staircase, just out of sight of Qian.

We see Yuan look up at the ceiling, take a deep breath, and then slowly move his eyes back to center. He is processing everything that he just heard from San Pang and Qian. Yuan is trying to keep himself composed here, he knows that Qian will be heading up the stairs eventually and so he stays seated because he wants Qian to know that he heard everything. Because Yuan is fucking mad.

Qian heads up the stairs and we get, what could not be a more perfect little deer in headlights look from Qian as he processes that Yuan has heard everything. And I do love what this show does in how it portrays its characters because Yuan is still Qian’s little brother, and his face in the camera looks like that of an upset little kid. “Xiao Yuan,” Qian says as Yuan stands up and rushes down the stairs. In such a quick moment, Chris rolls his eyes, looks up, and then down like Qian is annoyed at Yuan’s behavior while knowing that he is absolutely going to have to be the one to handle it.

Yuan brushes past him, but Qian immediately turns and follows after him, calls after him, tells him to wait. But Yuan keeps walking. Where he’s going? I have no fucking clue, but it is clear that Qian’s words aren’t going to cut it. Yuan has heard everything that Qian told San Pang. He’s heard about Qian’s wish for their happiness, he’s heard San Pang tell Qian that they love each other, that they have tried everything to make them not love each other, and what he hasn’t heard is an answer to San Pang’s question:

“Do you want him to have a future without you?”

I don’t know exactly what (if any) part of the conversation acted as the tipping point for Yuan, but he has been pissed the entire episode about Qian hiding his medical stuff from him. So I can imagine that not hearing an answer from Qian about wanting to be in Yuan’s future might serve as a last straw kind of deal.

And it marks a very important change in Qian that he runs after Yuan this time, that he physically puts himself in front of Yuan to stop him. Because he doesn’t want Yuan to go somewhere to cool off the way he did during Yuan’s first confession four years prior. He doesn’t want to just wait it out. He actually wants to talk to Yuan about where his head is at. That is huge progress from Mr. Hit First Talk Later.

“Ge.” Yuan says, and then lets out a very big breath, like he’s trying to temper his feelings, but the frustration still bleeds out of him “It was never your fault,”

Ah, here we go. What set Yuan off is Qian talking with San Pang about the Russian Roulette, reading between the lines there and understanding that Qian is scared of giving in to his feelings for Yuan because he blames himself for how deeply, how steadfastly Yuan loves him. Yuan is willing to die for him, and Qian has never had that before. He’s scared of giving in to his feelings for Yuan because he is scared of losing Yuan, and he is scared that Yuan’s love for him means Yuan will be lost because of him.

“It was never your fault,” Yuan said and he put his hands on Qian’s shoulders.

I do not even know how to describe the look Qian gives Yuan when he heard those words, nor can I really tell you what emotion(s) Qian is feeling in that moment, but I can tell you that I am obsessed with that look on his face. It’s like his breath catches in his throat and there is an ambiguity there, just like there was a bit of ambiguity in the head nod he gave San Pang, because he’s out of breath from running after Yuan, but there is also this chance that the pause in his breathing there is because of what Yuan said. Anyway:

“Even though I know that in the end you might not want all that I’ve given-”

Yuan says, while Qian looks down in the direction of his shoulders, where Yuan’s hands were just a moment ago. They made excellent casting choices here, I actually think for this scene it is really important that Kurt is taller than Chris, because it adds some extra power to Yuan’s position for me here. The way Yuan looks down at Qian makes him seem even more pissed off about the entire situation, almost like he’s belittling Qian. He wants to dig a knife in here, and he’s being successful at it

“Hearing it first hand still hurts a little,”

And we are back in our original confession dynamic. Qian is not looking at Yuan, Yuan refuses to look away from Qian. Qian looks kind of out of it, I would say he is dissociating a little bit, but I actually think what is happening here is that Qian is getting hit with the full force of Yuan’s words. I think he is absorbing and processing everything that is being said and understanding how not making a decision is hurting Yuan. Mostly because of how quick his reaction time is to trying to stop Yuan from walking away immediately after he says it hurts.

“I’ll be fine. I just need some time.” Yuan says, and I do think he means it. I think when Yuan came back from the States he had reached a point where he could live without Qian changing their relationship status, even if he didn’t want to.

But as Yuan tries to walk away, Qian stops him.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” look at him using his words! Qian looks so fucking exhausted when he does. The world has weighed heavy on him for so long, he’s been fighting an internal battle with himself about his feelings for Yuan for ages. It’s a lot, and the way Chris holds Qian here makes it feel like a lot. But, Yuan finally settles, because Qian is willing to engage in conversation. He is trying to clarify a misunderstanding, he is not outright rejecting Yuan here, he is not running away from talking about his feelings for Yuan. And so Yuan can stay, because there is some hope left there for him to hold on to.

He releases another huge breath, he stretches for just a second, grounding himself. He looks back at Qian “Then what do you mean?”

Qian stares in to the void, then rolls his eyes upwards, closes his eyes, and sighs. Chris shakes his head a little, like Qian is giving up. Because he is giving up. Because Qian is about to say the words. He is about to admit that his feelings for Yuan aren’t clear cut. Yuan looks away from Qian in this moment, where Qian is getting himself together.

gifs by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

“I can’t really figure out if it is love or something else that my feelings for you are.” And at the end of this, he isn’t running from the words anymore, because he looks at Yuan and Yuan is looking back at him. When Yuan first admitted his feelings, his suffering caused Qian to avoid eye contact. When Yuan returned, Qian couldn’t stop looking at Yuan. When listening to Yuan once again speak to his feelings and tell Qian he was hurting, Qian started in his comfort zone, in the old habits of looking away. But when he is actually admitting his feelings to Yuan, he does turn to look him in the eye. He isn’t avoiding it anymore.

“Is it the love of a brother? Can we really turn it into romantic love? I don’t know.” Qian is finally having the conversation he has needed to have with Yuan. This is confusing, how do you separate your feelings out? How do you know? What happens if things don’t go well? How much are you set to lose if things devolve?”

Yuan is capable of holding, understanding, and pushing that nuance, we’ve seen him do it before at the river. “This thing between us, is it because you don’t want or you don’t dare?”

“Yes.” Qian says “All I know is I can’t live without you.”

Yuan has seen that, San Pang and Lili have seen that, we have seen that. Qian wants to be careful with how he proceeds along this path, and he is right to do so. Because it is hard to determine, when you have known someone so long, when you have raised them, when you have seen them as a brother, when you have not had love outside of the family before, when that love has existed the entire time, and has been different the entire time, and how do you recognize that when you are in it?

There is a pause.

“Four years later, you came back.”

There is another pause.

I love these pauses. I love Qian putting space between these thoughts, whether he is scrambling internally for what to say, or whether he is hesitant to voice them, I do not know. I just know that I love love love when directors allow for breathing room.

“I saw your letter of last words.”

Qian stops looking at Yuan here. Another little pause.

“That’s when I started to feel scared.”

The camera cuts to a wide shot, where both Qian and Yuan are visible. And we can see Yuan reacting to what Qian is saying. Yuan also is not making eye contact, he is fidgeting a little. But he is listening intently to Qian’s words. The blocking of this shot is interesting to me too, because the way that Chris is standing has Qian facing Yuan, but we don’t see enough of Chris’ eyes here, so while it looks like Qian is looking at Yuan, that is not necessarily the case. We have seen him look away multiple times and his head barely moves.

Qian is talking in to the void, and Yuan is picking up the signal. Another pause, and right before Qian continues talking, Yuan turns to look at him with this look of surprise on his face. His mouth is slightly agape, his eyes look soft staring at Qian.

“I’m terrified,” Qian says. “What if you had no chance to come back? I don’t know what I would do.”

Yuan looks at Qian, looks away, looks up like he is trying to decide how to feel. What type of treatment he should be giving to Qian at this moment. Should he be bitter, should he be harsh, should he be soft?

“Wei Qian.” Yuan says

AND I WILL ONCE AGAIN SHAKE MY FIST AT THE SUBTITLES FOR TRANSLATING GE AS QIAN BECAUSE IT SO SEVERELY CUTS THE IMPORTANCE OF MOMENTS LIKE THIS ONE.

Qian cannot figure out his feelings! He can’t figure out if he loves Yuan like a brother or something more! So Yuan cuts the brother out of it. He calls Qian by his name. He calls him Wei Qian, he puts the separation up for Qian. Is this the love of a brother? That’s an easier question to answer when you aren’t being called ‘brother’. How do you feel when you aren’t being reminded of your connection?

I do not have the ability to describe the way Kurt’s mouth moves here, but I love the expression he gives Yuan as he finishes saying Wei Qian. He’s clearly going for a soft approach. Qian’s mouth, which hangs open just slightly, closes shut.

“I’ve told you. I can sum up my life in two words: Wei Qian.” A smile starts to creep up his face. That’s love, bitch! Yuan was pissed, but now that Qian has stopped him, not that Qian has voices his hesitations, now that Qian has admitted that he can’t live without Yuan, even if he doesn’t know what his feelings for Yuan are, the love Yuan has for Qian melts the anger and lets the love bleed through. “But I’m not making you take responsibility for me.”

This is a very important character trait of Yuan’s. One of the first things we saw of teenage Yuan was him grabbing one of the household bills. Yuan has been working side hustles while in school. He’s been helping pay the bills. He’s been as helpful as he possibly can be at all times, because this was a home he was given, not a home he was born in to.

GOD DAMMIT CHRIS IS SO GOOD. ALL HE DID WAS MOVE HIS EYEBALLS LIKE…TWO CENTIMETERS AND THAT WAS ENOUGH TO KILL ME.

Yuan is saying all the things that Qian needs to hear. Yuan can sum his life up with Qian, Qian fed him, Qian kept him warm, Qian gave him a home, Qian gave him love. Qian has seen Yuan as his responsibility since they were kids, but Yuan has wanted nothing but to be a support system for Qian. I said it before, that Yuan is the only person who continuously helps Qian to whom Qian is not beholden. Qian owes San Pang and his family, Qian owes Le and the gang, Qian owes Xiong. Qian does not owe Yuan. Qian does not see Yuan as someone that owes him.

That small little eye motion are some gears clicking in to place in Qian’s head. That small little eye motion is Qian well and truly listening to what Yuan is saying.

And here comes the parallel:

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

“Did you come after me because you feel guilty, or because you care?” (this thing between us, is it because you don’t want or you don’t dare?)

A genuine question that Yuan is using to try to push Qian in to allowing himself finally see his feelings through to the end. Qian is standing here before Yuan telling him that he does not know what his feelings for Yuan are. Even though those In The Know (Yuan and San Pang) can see the truth in Qian clear as day, Qian himself has not admitted it.

So Yuan gives him a test.

Qian pauses for a moment, starts to shake his head, blinks.

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

“I really don’t know,” he says

Qian has failed the test.

Yuan’s soft smile has a hint of sadness in it now.

“You don’t need to know.” Yuan leans back against the wall, looking up at the sky. Qian is looking straight ahead, once again not making eye contact with Yuan “It’s always been my problem. Going home with you.”

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

The weight of what Yuan is saying hits. Qian looks at the ground. Complete opposite direction as Yuan.

“Getting attached to you. Falling for you.”

Qian closes his eyes and sighs, pulling his head up from where it was pointed. It’s like he can’t get used to hearing Yuan confess. Like it hits him every time Yuan says he’s in love with Qian and has been forever.

“Wanting you all my life.”

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

That is too much for Qian. Even with his eyes closed, even though he can’t see Yuan right now, he has to face away.

“It was never your fault.” Yuan says, and Qian’s eyes open ever so slightly.

And I just have to say that it is really really important to me that with all of Qian’s trauma, with everything he has suffered, with the stuff he went through with his mother, that he finally has someone tell him that it wasn’t his fault. There is naturally a lot of hesitation in changing the way you see someone you have raised, someone you have looked at and treated as a brother, and suddenly see them as someone to be romantically interested in.

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

So it is important to me that Yuan tells Qian he did nothing wrong. That Yuan’s feelings here are entirely his own, borne of his own mind and body, and that there is no aspect of Yuan’s feelings for him that Qian pressured him in to. That Yuan will be fine, eventually, if Qian does not reciprocate his feelings. Qian is not being forced in to anything here, and neither is Yuan. And I am so so so glad that Qian got to hear that. Twice!

Anyway, Qian’s eyes open ever so slightly right as Yuan starts walking away, shoulder checking Qian on his way out.

“Wait.” Qian grabs Yuan by the wrist “Wei Zhiyuan.”

gifs by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

Yuan’s eyes are locked on to Qian’s hand around his wrist. He once again looks surprised that Qian would be brave enough to stop him from leaving. We get a shot of their hands (😈) and Yuan ever, ever so slowly raises his eyes to look at Qian.

Qian has passed the test at the last second.

#here you go for the people who asked if I was going to write the staircase scene #got this in right under the wire before tomorrow becomes all episode 11 stuff #unknown #unknown the series #unknown the series analysis #unknown the series meta #unknown the series episode 10 #chris chiu #kurt huang #taiwanese bl #wka long post

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solitaryearthperson · 8 months

Text

A Misunderstanding

Summary: Bruce thinks the reader fears him when it's quite the opposite.

(The reader is gender-neutral and uses they/them pronouns. The ethnicity/race is preferably a person of color.)

"Where's (Y/N)," Bruce asked, his eyes not lifting up from the beaker in front of him as he continued to pour more chemicals in.

"They're getting us coffee. Be here any minute," Tony replied, sitting in a seat not far away from Bruce's table, but still on his side of the lab, casually picking up a vial to play with.

"They're our assistant, not servant," Bruce told him, lifting his gaze and instantly furrowing his brow at seeing the vial in Tony's hands. "Put that back, please."

"I'll put it back, when I have my coffee," Tony told him, to which Bruce rolled his eyes, expecting Tony to be his usual difficult self, even when it's early in the morning.

The sound of the lab doors opening made both geniuses turn to see you entering, holding in both hands, cups of coffee, each one specifically made for them both. "Brought the coffee you wanted."

As Tony quickly grabbed his coffee, offering a quick 'thank you' before putting the vial back in its place, Bruce watched you carefully. He had a suspicion about you from the moment you began working in the lab with them and he wanted to confirm it to Tony.

"Hey (Y/N)," he said, watching your face and examining your body language closely. The second your name came out of his mouth, your body slightly jumped. He darted his eyes over to Tony to see if he was watching, and was quickly satisfied to find that he was.

"Could you just sit mine down, please?" He pointed to a far spot on the table.

He noticed the big gulp you made before nodding your head and making your way to his table and sitting down the coffee cup.

He pretended to pay close attention to the beaker, but really he slightly moved his eyes to your hand as you sat the coffee down and noticed the third sign that his suspicions about you were correct. Even though you tried to hide it, he could clearly see your hand slightly trembling. The fourth sign was revealed to him at the same time as he noticed that the hair on your arm was raised, as if in alarm. Every single time, he thought.

"Hey (Y/N), could you go upstairs, and tell Cap to come down here," Tony asked you, opening a drawer in his desk. "I wanna test something on his shield."

"Sure thing, Mr. Stark," You said, before leaving to do as directed, and Bruce couldn't help but notice the way you left was very quickly, almost as if you were hurrying out to get away from him.

When the sound of the lab doors closing behind you was heard that's when Bruce decided to speak up.

"You saw it, right," He asked Tony.

"Saw what?"

"Literally everything they just did," Bruce said, taking off his glasses and placing them on the table before walking over to Tony's side of the lab, and leaned against his desk. "The jumping, trembling, and even the way they hurried out of here just now."

"What does any of that mean, exactly?"

Sighing, Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, already knowing this might be difficult to speak with him about. "They're scare of me."

Tony tried to prevent the grin that wanted to appear and kept his face neutral as he responded, "Scared of you?"

"Yes. I know it."

"And why would they be so scared of you? You haven't hulked out in a while. They've only seen you in your nerdy, scientist attire, not as a green monster. There's no reason to be scared."

"We know why they're scared. Doesn't matter if I've hulked out or not. I'm still dangerous."

Taking a sip of his coffee, Tony sighed knowing that Bruce still wasn't sure of himself being on the team or being in such close proximity to any of them. "Banner, I'm gonna be as honest as I can with you," he said, stepping towards him, and putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You are literally the softest person ever."

"Tony," Bruce tried to interrupt him.

"You're basically a teddy bear with glasses. Nothing about you besides Hulk is dangerous, okay?"

Shaking his head, Bruce tried to ignore the growing frustration he was feeling. He didn't know why it bothered him so bad, but it did. Well, that was technically a lie. He knew why it bothered him, but he hoped that working with them for so long could have remedied that. He knows that he should be used to this by now, but knowing that you, of all people, was scared of him made him feel so much worse than any other person would. "I know what fear looks like, Tony, and it looked like they were scared."

"Please talk to them about it, before jumping to conclusions about this. Can you do that?" Tony had seen all the signs that Bruce had seen for a while and had come to understand what they really were, and hoped that Bruce would soon figure it out.

"Fine. I'll talk to them about it."

~LATER THAT NIGHT~

It was close to 1 in the morning, when Bruce looked away from the computer screen at the sound of the lab door opening, and when he turned to see who had entered, he found himself instantly become nervous seeing that it was you.

"Dr. Banner," You greeted him, smiling politely at him.

"(Y/N)," he greeted back. "What brings you here?"

"Mr. Stark told me to come down and check on you. Plus, he said that you wanted to talk to me about something important."

Of course, he did, Bruce thought, moving away from the computer and sitting down next to one of the lab tables. He couldn't help but notice you seemed to be staying far away from his side of the lab.

"Yeah, I did, (Y/N). It's important."

"Okay. What is it?"

"You do know that if you have any fears, any worries about working here, you can voice them, right?"

"Yeah, of course I do," you told him, nodding your head.

"So do you want to talk about you being scared of me?"

"What-What are you talking about?" You stammered, closing some of the distance between you two.

"(Y/N)," Bruce sighed, closing his eyes for a second before opening them again to look at you. "Ever since you've started here, you've been jumpy around me and keeping your distance from me. You always hesitate to come up to me, like you're scared I'm gonna hurt you."

A look of recognition and embarrassment came over your face and you opened your mouth to explain yourself to him, but before you could say anything, Bruce spoke again.

"I understand why you'd be feeling this way, but-"

"Dr. Banner, I'm so sorry. This is a big misunderstanding -"

"I promise you're not in any danger with me," he continued.

"I'm not scared of you, Dr. Banner-"

"I have control over the big guy. There won't be any incidents of him coming out-"

"Dr. Banner, I like you," you blurted out loudly, interrupting him in the middle of his sentence.

"What," he asked, a look of surprise and confusion upon his face.

Seeing how shocked he looked, you felt heat come to your face and quickly darted your eyes away from him. You never wanted to tell him like this, but to be really honest, you never wanted to tell him period.

"You-You like... me," he asked, shock and confusion still present on his face. "Why were you being so jumpy and-and weird around me then?"

"I didn't know I was being weird," you confessed, walking around the lab table and pulling a nearby chair to sit down next to him, ignoring the burning in your cheeks and your fast heartbeat. "I didn't know how to act around you, and not show my crush, so I thought I could keep my distance. Thought it would better hide it."

"Oh" was all he said, his face suddenly not revealing what he was feeling anymore.

"Um, if you don't want me to work here in the lab with you now, then I completely understand," you said to him, mistaking his silence as a silent rejection.

"Why would I want that?" He asked, confused. Now that you confessed how you felt about him, he thought that now is a great time to confess his feelings as well. "I like you too."

His confession shocked you and it took a second for you to reply.

"You do?"

"Yeah," he nodded, chuckling softly.

"Oh... Well, would you mind going on a date with me or are you uncomfortable with going with your assistant?" You asked, curious and wanting to make sure that he wouldn't feel too weird about it.

"That depends,...will you jump and keep your distance from me the whole time," he joked.

"No, I won't, Dr. Banner," you replied, laughing softly.

"Bruce," he corrected, smiling at you, making a fluttery feeling begin in your stomach. "Call me Bruce."

"Sure thing,... Bruce," you said, excited to finally go on a date with the man you've been secretly pining for forever. "Sure thing."

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