#i still feel like i got more attached to the characters than usual

[nymphomatique]

wanna sit on nerd miguel’s face while i use my phone to snap other guys that’s my little chair fr😔😻

this just changed the trajectory of my life in a way you cannot understand.

cw: slight d/s dynamics, sending nudes, munch miguel makes an appearance once more, bro literally FEASTS, new character yippee (v minor), brief choking (more like a neck squeeze tbh), praise, squirting LOL, miguel gets kicked out again 😔 reader catching feelings?? we may never know. semi proofread today i felt nice. this is a longer one than usual, so enjoy!

“stop fuckin’ squirming down there and eat me out properly,” you say, looking down at miguel. his eyes are hazy and hooded, his glasses somewhere on the bed, his brown eyes clear as day. you grip his head by his hair and position him to where his nose brushes above your clit, and you moan at the feeling. “l-like that, okay miguel? be good for mommy.”

miguel takes heed of your instructions and begins to lick, suck, and thrust up into your wetness, making it hard for you to maintain something relative to your composure. in the throes of miguel’s mouth work, your phone screen, next to miguel’s head, lights up with a snapchat notification from none other than the star quarterback of your school, peter parker. you bite the corner of your lip, mouth pulling up in a smile at an idea. you grab your phone and open it to snapchat, seeing peters name at the top of your snap list. you open his snap and it’s a picture of him shirtless, abs on display, his happy trail just peeking over the band of his pants. his snap is captioned with text reading ‘wyd?’

you prop your camera up, angling it enough that miguel’s face and your pussy are out of frame. miguel stops for a moment to ask what you’re doing, but before he can get a word in you speak up, “if you stop, this will be the last time i ever let you touch me. got it? keep fucking going.” and wordless, miguel does as he’s told, going back to eating you but with a new energy this time. it catches you off guard a bit, and you let out a light f-fuck in response, but you don’t let it derail you from answering peter back.

peter. you and him have had.. complicated history to say the least. since high school, the two of you ran in the same social circles, with him being on your high school football team and you, a cheerleader. a true status quo. the two of you had ended up attending the same underaged parties, hooking up and even going steady for some time, until the blonde busty thing known as gwen stacy walked into your high school in sophomore year and made her claim on your then boyfriend. you figured it out after you walked in on them under the bleachers post-game, the spot where you habitually got on your knees to congratulate peter for his win. you stayed with him after a profuse apology and intense “i’m sorry” fuck session, to your dismay, but broke up with him in the beginning of your senior year. now, you two fuck from time to time, scratching an itch when you have it.

you look back at the tease of a photo on your phone, your tits spilling out your plunge neck crop top and your abdomen cutting off right above your pubic area, your pink thong still visible coming up the sides of your hips. you feel miguel plunge his tongue into you, causing you to fall forward, steadying yourself with one hand, phone in the other. “keep this up and i’m gonna squirt on you, but i bet you’re into that huh?” you laugh out a little, miguel moaning into you in response. you try not to get distracted and caption your snap to peter ‘nothing really’ and press send.

immediately, you see that he opens it and he replies just as fast, this time the photo of him in grey sweats with a visible tent, layer out on his bed. the caption attached, ‘wanna turn your nothing to a something? ;)’ and you roll your eyes. you move to answer him with another midriff picture, but you change your mind. “hey, look at me dweeb,” you say, turning the camera so that it’s capturing the angle of miguel’s mouth on your pussy, covered in spit and your juices. he looks up and sees the camera of your phone pointed down towards him and he goes red in the face and tight lipped. “remember what i told you about stopping,” you remind him, and he maintains eye contact with the camera as he goes back to lick a strip up your pussy, from your leaking hole to your clit. you move your unoccupied hand to his face, palm to his cheek as you slowly caress him with your thumb. “that’s a good boy.”

you move your hand from his cheek, trailing softly down to his strong neck and you wrap your hand around his neck and squeeze. at the pressure he lets out a groan, his hands moving to grip your thighs tighter to his face. “fuck miguel, you’re making mommy so happy right now- ah! fuck, just like that. keep doing that, o-okay?” you moan out. he says nothing, his eyes, still maintaining contact with the camera, clouded with lust, answering for him.

you snap a picture, turned on at the lewdness of it. it’s your pussy on miguel’s face, pink panties pushed to the side as his mouth is sucking on your clit, his hands gripping the fat of your thighs, and your hand around his neck at the same time. you make quick work to save the photo and caption it ‘busy, sorry’, feeling your orgasm approach. you press send and drop your phone, ignoring the back to back buzzing, probably of peters reply to your salacious snap.

a steady heat begins to boil in the pit of your stomach, and you keen forwards, your hand leaving miguel’s neck to grip the white sheets on your bed. “i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna-“ and with that, you feel the pleasure within you tighten then burst, like a damn breaking way, and you begin to tremble as miguel continues his work down on you. the overstimulation begins to hit you, and you feel a spurt of liquid leave your body and miguel groan and suck. “oh my god,” you heave out, “st-stop, no more.”

miguel places a final kiss to your mound as he moves to lift your limp hips for you. he feels sheepish how, his sweater and mouth drenched with your liquids. he wipes his lips and makes way to speak to your still firm on the bed. “are- are you okay?”

you say nothing, grab the nearest pillow you have, and throw it at him. miguel dodges and understands that means get the fuck out.

after collecting yourself, your body still spent and sheets still wet, you roll over on your back and grab your phone to look at what peter replied to you. you open his snap, and laugh a little at his responses.

peter 🚮

| is that fucking o’hara..?

| you’re fucking with me???

| fucking whore

| you sleep with nerds now??

you make way to reply to peter one more time, opening the camera and taking a picture of the wet bedsheets, caption it ‘nerds that can make me cum? yeah’ and unadd him after.

you finally haul yourself up to change your sheets when you see miguel’s glasses on your bed. you grab them and put them on your nightstand, feeling heat rush through your blood to your face, thinking of him and the mess he made of you.

fucking dweeb.

#the ask had me sweatin #u guys need to start writing instead of me 😭 #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara drabble #miguel atsv smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel atsv #sub miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #you’ve got mail💌 #<nerd!miguel3

[dduane]

Hi Diane!

I promise this will end in an ask, but I have a story to share first, if you have the time.

I’m very new to Tumblr, in fact, I was moved to finally create an account to send you this message, but I’ve been casually poking around for a bit. A quick google last summer told me that Tumblr is the best place to get Good Omens news from Neil himself, but it didn’t do the courtesy of warning me just how magnetic this particular bastion of chaotic creative internet mayhem can be. This story is one example. Fun note, when I was composing this message my husband looked over my shoulder at the literal essay I’d typed out and suggested that I maybe, perhaps, might consider shortening it to the length of a conversation that could take place in an elevator. Or in line at the coffee shop. However, i’m not one sacrifice enormity for brevity.

Your post the other day regarding the cover for your novel, Stealing the Elf King’s Roses, got me thinking. First, that it was a very genuine thing to share, second, that I wasn’t entirely sure why I wasn’t immediately familiar with your work, and third, what a fun visual challenge. I was still thinking about it when I should have been sleeping, so I decided to dig in. I almost stopped reading your bio at the ‘blah blah blah’ because I was feeling quite bad about my media literacy at that point, but then I saw that you’re well-known for the Young Wizard series.

The Young Wizard series.

I said I’d try to keep it brief and this is my best attempt. I read books 1-5 of that series during the hardest, strangest, most heartbreaking time in my childhood when I desperately needed a different reality than my own. What I found in your novels was so much better than that. Your stories, your characters, your vision, helped teach me to ground myself in my strengths, frame my reality with hope and purpose, and how to build the spaces I needed within myself to find the compassion, forgiveness, joy and peace I so desperately needed. One of the things I built within myself on my healing journey was a beautiful jeweled box. It resides in my mind just off of I-335 in Topeka, Kansas. I was driving through the flint hills on a road trip from Milwaukee to Wichita when I finally finished the long process of constructing it, so that is where it stays, shining in the sun and twinkling under the stars. This box contains everything I experienced that couldn’t come with me as I grew. Crafting it was a lengthy, emotional, wrenching process, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever done to allow me to become the person I am today. I used visit it every now and again, to make sure the jewels are still bright, but I’m very careful to not jostle the lid.

I’m recounting all of this to you because two nights ago I quite suddenly found myself standing beside my box for the first time in almost a decade. I could feel the gravel under my slipper socks as I gently opened the lid to see my copies of your books resting at the very top. I wasn’t immediately familiar with your work when I saw your name because it is so inextricable from the very fabric of how healed myself, that I accidentally let your words fall under the closed lid of the very box they helped enable me to make. Nothing else clamored to be released as I carefully pulled them out, and once more closed the lid.

So, the ask. I will be brief here - I’m an artist. Not currently working professionally as I’m exploring a different career path, but I’m usually working on a personal project or two. I needed a new one and was still intrigued by the post that started this all, so to help me process the emotions described above I made a version of a cover for STEKR and wanted to ask if I could share it with you. It looks like I can’t attach here, but I’d love to post it on my new, very empty page. It truly might not be your style, but I once again found solace in a space you opened the door to and this time I have the opportunity to share it!

Also, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

You're so very welcome! And I'm really glad the books were there for you when you needed them. (And plainly are there with you still.) 😊

And absolutely, post that cover! I'll be delighted to see it.

#Stealing the Elf-King's Roses

[i-turned-into-the-stone]

[Commissioned]

Career's Dead End: Ex-NMIXX Jinni × M!OC

Tags: Rape, Hardcore, Belly Bulging, Face Fuck, Cum In Mouth, Cum Swallowing, Clit Torture (just the usual pinching, pulling, etc), Pussy Slapping, Squirting, Anal, Overstimulation, Breath Play

Character(s): Ex-NMIXX Jinni × Male OC

Word Count: 7,653

A/N: Since the plot takes place before Jini became a soloist, I will use Jinni throughout the story and her birth name, Choi Yunjin in some of the dialogue. I hope you guys don't mind a long plotless chapter.

Jinni had always thought being an idol would be a fun gig. You know, basking in fame, meeting new people, and connecting with fans. She imagined herself becoming a household name, doing what she loved for a living. But, being an idol wasn't the glamorous ride she had envisioned.

It turned out to be a lot less exciting, and before she knew it, she was no longer part of NMIXX. Her career ended abruptly, leaving her feeling underwhelmed and detached. She went through the motions like a robot until the very end.

Even though Jinni's time as an idol was short-lived, her former group mates were like her friends. Saying goodbye to them after living together like a family was a heavy burden to bear. It was even more heartbreaking that she didn't get a chance to bid farewell to the other members before leaving the dorm.

Maybe NMIXX's busy schedule was intentionally designed by the CEO to keep them apart from her as if the company didn't want any lingering attachments to form. There wasn't much she could do about the situation, but she had one thing left to do before she left.

Her manager, Hanwol, had been a constant support throughout her idol career. Looking back, Jinni realized she hadn't seen him since the news of her departure from NMIXX broke out. So, here she was, taking a cab to his house, which was nearly an hour's journey from the dorm.

As the cab drove through the city, Jinni observed the surroundings—a residential area with several empty houses or ones still undergoing renovation. She wasn't entirely sure, so she checked the address again.

"This is the place, but..."

The cab came to a stop in front of a one-story house with a white gate. It appeared more well-constructed than the neighboring houses. Jinni paid the fare and got out, making sure to take the bag of fresh fruits she had bought along.

Jinni took a deep breath to steady herself and then pressed the doorbell. Silence filled the air. After a few moments, she pressed the button again, and she heard a crash that she assumed came from the front door.

Soon after, the gate rattled and slid open. Jinni paused, her eyes fixated on the taller man standing before her. His two-block hair was disheveled and damp, a half-empty beer can in his hand. His usual smile was absent, replaced by a hint of weariness.

"Jinni?" he said, his gaze scanning the area outside. Finding no one else, he let out a sigh. "What brings you here?"

"I-I just wanted to say goodbye before, well, leaving. I haven't seen you at the company, so I came here to see you, oppa. I wanted to thank you for taking care of me and guiding me during my time there..." Jinni's voice trailed off, a sad smile on her face as she handed him the bag of fruits.

Hanwol reluctantly took the paper bag from her hands, his gaze fixated on it with a blank expression. "Damn..." he cursed inwardly. Was this all he had left after being laid off from his job as a manager? That's what had him looking so disheveled, but of course, the former idol standing before him had no clue.

Sure, he received his salary, but he needed a solid reason if he wanted to apply elsewhere, and he hadn't gotten one at all. He was simply told to move on and good luck with his future shit. The can in his hand crumpled as frustration welled up inside him. No amount of beer could help him calm down anymore.

However, Jinni might hold the truth he desperately sought. She was no longer tied down as an idol, and no one could restrict her anymore. Plus, she was alone now. Hanwol's thoughts became clouded as he eyed her, his gaze lingering on her exposed stomach since the hem of her shirt was lifted and tied behind her back.

"Well, I guess I'll take my leave then. Didn't mean to bother you too much. Take care, Hanwol oppa," she said, her smile tinged with sadness as she turned around to leave.

Hanwol's gaze shifted outside, scanning the usual emptiness of the area. He watched her retreating figure, his eyes now fixated on Jinni's hips, snugly squeezed into those low-rise pants she wore, stirring up conflicting emotions within him.

"Jinni," Hanwol called out. The girl turned back, her eyes meeting his. "Wanna come inside and talk for a bit?" he offered, his smile masking the turmoil he felt inside. At that moment, relief washed over Jinni's face, and she nodded, taking a few steps back toward the gate.

Hanwol watched as Jinni walked further into his house, his body moving on autopilot as he threw the beer can at the corner of his front yard and locked the gate. He caught up to her and opened the front door, gesturing for her to enter. She slipped off her shoes and stepped inside, while Hanwol lingered for a moment to lock the door once again.

The inside of Hanwol's house was plain and neat, reflecting his minimalist taste. The living room was adorned with simple furniture, a comfortable couch, and a coffee table. Jinni took a seat on the couch, sinking into its soft cushions, while Hanwol headed to the kitchen to put the fruits away.

In the kitchen, Hanwol glanced at the sparsely stocked refrigerator. "Do you mind a beer? I haven't done any grocery shopping yet," he called out to Jinni.

Jinni smiled politely. "Thanks, oppa. Don't trouble yourself. I'm fine with whatever you have."

Hanwol rummaged through the fridge for a moment, then remembered the leftover milk. He grabbed the carton and decided to pour himself and her a glass. With the milk in hand, he joined Jinni in the living room, placing the drink on the table and taking a seat in an armchair across from her.

As they sat there, sipping their respective beverages, the atmosphere felt both tight and uncertain. The silence lingered for a while until Hanwol finally broke it, his voice filled with genuine curiosity.

"So, Jinni, what really happened at the company? Why did they let me go without any proper explanation?" he asked, his eyes searching hers for the truth he had been desperately seeking.

Jinni's eyes widened at Hanwol's statement. "What? They fired you, oppa? I... I had no idea," she stammered, her grip tightening around her glass.

Hanwol let out a sigh, frustration evident on his face. He downed the milk in one gulp and slammed the empty glass onto the table.

"Doesn't really matter now. I just want to know how you messed up. Why did you leave the group, Jinni?" he asked, leaning forward, his gaze locked with hers.

The former idol bowed her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I have a reason I can't disclose, oppa. But I'll speak to the CEO on your behalf—"

Hanwol interrupted her, his voice laced with accusation. "So, you can't disclose the reason because it's true that you were caught with a guy at a hotel? Is that rumor actually true?”

"Hanwol oppa! You know me! I-I am not like that!" Jinni blurted out, her voice filled with hurt and disbelief. Jinni felt seriously let down by her former manager. Hanwol had always been the one to boost her spirits and believe in her talents, but right now, he seemed like a whole new person.

"Yeah, yeah... My bad..." Hanwol muttered, his eyes fixed on Jinni.

He wasn't wasted or anything, but he was feeling hot under the collar—frustrated and just not right. His mind couldn't help but wonder, secretly hoping that the rumors about Jinni were true, that she was some sort of wild girl behind everyone's back.

"Look, I'm sorry, Hanwol oppa. I didn't realize my issues were getting to you too. I'll still talk to the CEO about this mess," Jinni said, getting up from her seat and giving a little bow. "I'm leaving now. Take care, oppa."

Hanwol stayed silent, his anger simmering inside. He then stood up, his hand grabbing onto Jinni's arm. “Since you're already here, why don't we make it worth our while, Jinni-ya?" Hanwol offered, trying to sound casual but with a hint of malice.

Jinni turned around, her eyebrows furrowing as she looked up at the towering man. "What do you mean...?"

Hanwol shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe you can let me fuck you to make up for all the trouble you've caused?" His words lacked respect, to take advantage of the situation rather than any genuine care.

Jinni's shock was beyond words. She desperately wanted to believe that Hanwol was just messing around, but the grip on her arm grew tighter, making it impossible for her to break free.

"What…? Come on, oppa, you're drunk or something? You-You're hurting and me," she managed to say, attempting to twist her arm out of his grasp.

"No, I'm not drunk, just annoyed and a little horny.” Hanwol let out a chuckle. “Don't be so uptight. There's no need to maintain that squeaky-clean image anymore. You're not an idol now," he said, reaching for her soft stomach and rubbing it.

Jinni pushed his hand away, fighting harder to break free. "Oppa, please... Please let go of me. I know you're angry with me, but you can't do something like this," she calmly pleaded, attempting to reason with him.

"Do what? Unleash the wild side of Choi Yunjin?" Hanwol swiftly shifted their positions, harshly shoving Jinni onto the couch. "I'll give you a good fuck as a goodbye, Jinni-ya, don't you worry.”

Hanwol wasted no time in yanking his track pants down, revealing his semi-erect cock to Jinni without a hint of shame. Jinni's heart filled with fear and panic, but she managed to keep her cool. She quickly got up from her seat and darted around the table, but before she could escape, Hanwol grabbed hold of her hair and pulled her.

"Ack!" Jinni let out a pained yelp as she crashed back onto the couch.

"Seems like you enjoy playing hard to get, huh?" Hanwol taunted, mocking her while tugging her head towards the edge of the couch. He stepped out of his crumpled pants hanging around his ankles, and slipped his legs under her armpits, effectively locking her arms useless.

Jinni found herself stuck upside-down, her head trapped between Hanwol's legs, with his cock noticeably weighing on her chest. This position made her dizzy, but she continued to fight back, trying to free her arms from behind his knees, yet all her efforts were in vain.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?! Ugh!" Jinni thrashed about, her panic evident.

"Don't ask dumb questions, Choi Yunjin. You're not that innocent. Just admit it," Hanwol asserted, gripping Jinni's thigh and maneuvering her lower body to align with her chest, pressing her butt against the cushioned backrest.

Jinni kicked her feet in the air, but Hanwol just held onto them, hugging them against his solid chest. He squeezed her ass through the fabric, getting all worked up by its softness as his junk on her breast reached its full glory.

"Yah!!! Stop! Please!!!" Jinni screamed her lungs out, trying to push herself away from between his legs by shoving against the edge of the couch with her palms.

Hanwol pushed himself down even more, trapping her tighter. He smacked her ass, making her flinch. "Can't you just stay put, you bitch?" he said, reaching for the zipper on her pants and unzipping it.

"Hell no!"

The ex-idol wriggled like crazy, but Hanwol had a grip on the waistband, wrenching her pants along her legs until they were stuck at her ankles, tying them together. He folded her calves to the back of the backrest and spread her knees wide, his eyes widening at the sight of her purple lace panties. His hands greedily massaged her inner thighs, ignoring Jinni's cries of resistance.

"Holy shit, you've got a fat pussy," Hanwol leered, pinching her squished cameltoe inside the panties.

Jinni tensed up and cursed at him, "Let me go, you disgusting creep!"

Hanwol scoffed and smacked her crotch with an open palm, causing her legs to close up in pain. He spread them apart again.

"Keep those legs wide open. I'm not done yet. Since you're so eager to scream, I'll give you a reason," he taunted. Without warning, he delivered another stinging slap to her sensitive area.

"Aah!" Jinni cried out in agony, clutching onto his legs for support.

Hanwol arranged her body on the couch so that only her head dangled over the edge. His balls intentionally pressed against her chin, while his rock-hard thick cock twitched whenever her breasts brushed against it.

"Why so quiet now?" he sneered, slapping her pussy once again. But this time, he didn't stop. He kept on repeatedly striking her burning flesh with force.

"It hurts! Fucking stop! Please!!!" Jinni twisted and turned in pain, but Hanwol kept her legs spread wide, keeping them in place.

"Come on! Admit it, you're just a cheap whore. The idol life doesn't suit your horny ass at all," he growled through gritted teeth, matching the rhythm of his hand pounding on her pussy. Jinni cried her heart out, her legs shaking from the intense pain inflicted on her most intimate sensitive area.

Just as Hanwol stopped, he ripped her panties in half and tossed the torn fabric aside. The scent of her pussy hit his nose as he got a full-on view of her naked snatch. He ran his thumb over her neatly trimmed pubes before reaching her clit.

Jinni's legs instantly clamped shut when she felt his touch on her sensitive spot. She let out a weak grunt, unable to lift her head anymore after enduring the relentless smacking on her pussy.

"I fucking told you not to close those legs, bitch," Hanwol reminded her, and another slap followed, leaving her already red and swollen pussy even redder.

"Oww!" Her body was in shock. She felt his finger slip inside her slick labia and slide along her slit. She knew exactly where he was heading, but she couldn't do a single thing to stop him.

Despite Hanwol's strong desire to fuck Jinni senseless right then and there, he knew she would fight back until the bitter end. So, he had to break her spirit first, and the plan was simple - make her own body betray her will. His finger found her entrance and slipped inside smoothly, all at once.

"Ahh!" Jinni's back arched involuntarily, her legs spreading wider as he moved his finger in and out. "Oh, God— S-Stop!"

"Quit pretending, Jinni-ya. Admit it, you love this," he stated, holding onto one of her thighs and adding another finger, fingering her with increasing speed.

"Aah! Fuck! Mm..." She bit her lip, suppressing a moan, feeling his palm smacking her pussy while his fingers explored her tight inner walls.

Hanwol slowed down but didn't stop completely, teasing her senses, making her crave more. He glanced at her flushed face, her chest heaving against his cock.

"You should be the one pleasuring me, you know, but look at you, enjoying yourself instead." Hanwol withdrew his fingers and flicked her clit sharply.

"Oww!" Jinni jerked in a mixture of pain and undeniable pleasure. She saw his hand rising. "N-No, don't— Argh!" A sharp slap instantly numbed her throbbing pussy.

Hanwol's two fingers slipped back into her pussy, now wetter and more fragrant from her growing arousal. Seeing that Jinni was weakened, he shifted to the side, freeing her arms and upper body from beneath him. He then folded her legs towards her chest, ensuring that the former idol had a clear view of how eagerly her pussy clenched around his fingers.

As he withdrew, his fingers glistened wet, some of her juice even dripping on her pubes. "Still refusing to admit that Choi Yunjin is a slut?" he taunted with a smirk, observing her flushed and sweaty face. Their physical exertions had left both of them covered in a sheen of sweat.

"I... I trusted you, Park Hanwol. I thought you were a good person but..." Jinni paused momentarily, "Ugh!" She twisted her body sideways, attempting to kick him off. Too bad he now had a firm grip on both of her legs. "Let me go!”

Hanwol reached down and wrapped his hand around her neck, giving it a squeeze. "Save your breath, Jinni-ya. Just quietly let me fuck you. Nobody gives a damn about us anyway. Not anymore.”

He tightened his grip, and Jinni's teary eyes shot daggers at him as she swung her arm, smacking his with all her might. Her face turned pale as she struggled to catch a breath, her mouth wide open.

He stood there, watching as her eyes rolled up, and her feeble attempts to hit him turned into weak tapping. Even the legs he held in his grasp barely put up a fight. Jinni was suffocating, and he knew it.

Not wanting her to pass out just yet, he released her legs and swiftly grabbed her waist, lifting her body up and tossing her onto the couch. Her head found support on the armrest, but it hardly mattered as she painfully gasped for air, coughing uncontrollably.

Hanwol wasted no time and positioned himself between Jinni's trembling legs, dipping his thick pre-drooling cockhead between her slick pussy lips. Still huffing and puffing, Jinni's hands flailed around aimlessly, trying to push him away.

"For fuck's sake! Just take my damn cock, you filthy slut!" Hanwol screamed into her face, his voice filled with rage, as he pinned her hands—one above her head and the other against the backrest—ensuring she had nowhere to escape.

"Yah, Park Hanwol... Haa... Don't you fucking dare! You bastard…”

Jinni's futile words were all she had left to fight against her former manager. However, they seemed to only provoke him further. He bent her body in a double, hoisting her legs up over her head and thrusting his crown against her defenseless little pussy.

Jinni let out a surprised "Eep" and wriggled violently, twisting and arching under the weight of Hanwol's forceful press. From her vantage point, she could see his cock slowly but surely stretching her tight cunt around its girth.

There was simply no way around it: she was doomed the moment Hanwol thrust forward hard, and Jinni's eyes widened as she saw all inches of his cock vanish into her, tearing her out and causing her belly to bulge beneath her belly button.

“Too big! Ahh! Shit— too deep… Fuck!!!” She gasped, barely managing to get the words out before Hanwol began clobberfucking her, pressing her down beneath him in a savage mating press.

He brutalized her with each powerful strike, causing her belly to swell at an insane speed. Her abdomen expanded with loud, squelching bloats and swells that outlined his cockhead inside her, leaving her gasping for breath and overwhelmed by the roughness of his smacking her soaking cunt.

The couch shook with each jab, but for Jinni, it felt like her whole world was being rocked at that moment. Her pussy was filled to the brim, a mix of pain and an unexplainable tingle shooting through her nerves, messing with her senses.

Hanwol locked eyes with Jinni, refusing to break the intense gaze. He kept thrusting his throbbing shaft into her, ramming it in and pulling back, perfectly in sync with the rhythm of his hips. His grunt of exertion reached Jinni's ears, making her shiver at the sound that solidified her lower position between them.

"I took good care of you..." he said, his breath ragged as he slowed down, relishing the tight squeeze of her canal. "So don't feel too bad for being such a good girl for me— Ugh!" he grunted in pure ecstasy.

Jinni narrowed her gaze, weakly looking at him. "I fucking hate you..."

The man slapped Jinni, leaving an immediate mark on her face. "Oh, I know you hate me, but you love this cock, you whore," he informed her.

She shook her head in denial and a hand closed around her neck. "Keuk," the sweaty girl gasped, her breath catching. His grip tightened even more. "Eughh!" Jinni groaned as Hanwol's fingers dug deeper into the flesh around her windpipe.

As his pulsing cock ripped into her, Jinni couldn't hold it and gurgle for mercy. Within moments of this harsh treatment, her body betrayed her, hitting her first mind-blowing orgasm of the night. She shrieked and writhed wild under relentless Hanwol.

Hanwol kept on holding onto her ankle above her head while another grip was on her bruised neck. Jinni expression was all messed up, teeth clenched tight as Hanwol gave her the fuck of a lifetime.

His hips barged down like a sledgehammer, slamming his balls on her entrance harder, causing her juice splatter everywhere. Her stomach bulged out even more, and Jinni threw her arms around it, wailing and going absolutely crazy. It made her nauseous for some reason.

Hanwol’s hand pressed the bulge in her stomach and a prolonged groan escaped through her constricted throat. He applied more pressure to the bulge, making her jerk in response, completely overwhelmed by the sensation of his cock filling her up.

Hanwol stopped and pulled out. Jinni convulsed as those veins and ridges of his cock dragged along her sensitive velvety walls. Before she could process anything else, Hanwol thrust back inside, causing her to cry out as the force pushed her upward.

"Ahh! P-Please..." her shaky voice was barely a whisper.

He set an unforgiving pace, his cock relentlessly hitting all the sweet spots inside her. The sounds she made with each pump were like exclamation marks. Whenever his tip brushed against her cervix, her eyes rolled back. Jinni was dripping with fluids, leaking and gushing all around him. Some even trickled down to her butthole.

"Please what?"

Hanwol loosened his grip on her throat, giving her a chance to breathe and speak, but all she could do was whimper and dig her nails into his shoulders. She was on the edge, feeling nothing but knots in her stomach, desperately craving release.

Hanwol let his hand slip between their bodies, pinching and tearing her stiff clit to stimulate her even more with both pain and pleasure. She shook against him as his hips roughly pierced into her. And then without pausing, he grabbed her left leg, placing it on his shoulder, driving his cock to the deepest depth of her pussy.

“Oh shit! You're milking me good, Jinni-ya. Haa— Fuck!”

Once again, she was choked, gasping for air beneath him, holding onto his muscular body as he both strangled and inflated her.

Hanwol took a deep breath and let out a blissful bellow as he shoved his entire cock into Jinni's pussy—way more than she ever thought possible. She went cross-eyed and had another body-shaking orgasm as he exploded inside her, filling her up with his hot, churning seed.

Her poor belly was filled with an excessive amount of fresh semen, a lot of which spilled back out and pooled on the couch. Her trembling hand clutched her swollen stomach.

Jinni was completely shattered, reduced to a wreck by his violation. Hanwol stayed inside her for a moment, panting, before slowly pulling his cock out from her cum-filled cunt, causing her pussy to squirt her nectar all over his crotch as she spasmed and arched her body, overwhelmed by ecstasy.

Hanwol wasn't about to give Jinni a break. He released her neck, and before she could even take a breath, he shoved all his fingers into her mouth, except for his thumb. Jinni gagged out loud, her chest sucking in as she struggled to handle it.

"You don't think we're done, do you? We're both jobless, so we've got all the time in the world to have some fun," he said with bitterness in his voice, recalling how he was unjustly fired.

Anger consumed Hanwol as he viciously attacked her hypersensitive pussy, aiming her clit at the tips of his fingers, repeatedly slapping it in an upward motion. With him between her legs, Jinni couldn't even close them, so they kicked against the couch on his sides.

Jinni's vocal resistance was reduced to gagging and retching as his fingers probed the depths of her throat, forcing her saliva to dribble down her cheeks. Her hands clenched his shirt tightly, but it didn't seem to have any noticeable effect.

Hanwol yanked his hand away from Jinni's mouth, and she shot up, coughing and sticking her tongue out. He grabbed her messy black hair, pulling her up while pointing his cock towards her mouth.

He pressed the tip of his cock against her cracked lips, feeling the anticipation of her warm mouth overwhelming him. Her lips tightened, her teeth grinding together in denial. She glared up at him, a mix of shock and disgust on her face.

Leaning over her, Hanwol tightened his grip on her hair, yanking out a few strands as she tried to pry his hands off. "Listen here... I'm not letting you go. I bet nobody even knows you're here, so might as well enjoy this like a slut you are."

"I am not your fucking slut!" she spat, her chest heaving with anger.

He responded with a loud slap across her face. Her lips parted, and Hanwol sighed as he invaded her mouth, feeling it close around him. He loosened his grip on Jinni's hair, his fingers cradling the back of her head. The wet heat got his pulse racing. He let out a breathy exhale, his eyes rolling back as Jinni reluctantly sucked on his shaft.

"Fuck," he hissed softly.

Jinni's head bobbed back and forth, her tongue embracing his thick flesh. It felt great until he realized she was just going through the motions. It was mechanical and lacked passion. Hanwol growled, his fingers twisting in her hair again before rocking his hips forward, sliding past the barrier of her throat. She gagged, her body tensing, and he groaned at the tight grip around him.

Hips jerking, he grabbed the side of Jinni's head with his other hand to hold her in place. If that's how she wanted it, he'd give it to her. Jinni's eyes darted up to him as he grinned down at her before shooting his cock forward, widening her eyes in surprise.

Hanwol was totally into it, feeling the warm, wet, tight glide of Jinni's throat around his pulsating cock. He thrust again. Her throat tightened. Jinni gagged and struggled, which only turned him on even more. He held onto her head firmly and pounded away, his hips going at it like a jackhammer, giving Jinni's throat no mercy.

Her knees shifted on the squeaky cushion beneath her. She tried to squirm away, but Hanwol had her face locked in place. Poor girl whimpered, choking for air. Drool and precum dripped down her chin, making a sloppy mess.

Feeling the climax approaching way too fast, Hanwol pulled back, his cock slipping out of Jinni's mouth. She coughed and spat, trying to catch her breath. Her cheeks were flushed, lips all swollen, and her skin had this slick shine to it. Hanwol licked his lips. She looked enticing. He gripped his throbbing member tightly to hold back the eruption.

He ran his fingers through Jinni's hair, trying to soothe her, but she shot him an angry glare with those slightly unfocused eyes of hers. Hanwol leaned down and licked the sweat off her ear, making her shudder as she exhaled shakily.

"Please," Jinni rasped, her chest heaving as she struggled to breathe. She needed a break. A quick one would suffice.

Hanwol raised an eyebrow at her and straightened up. His cockhead brushed against her lips, but Jinni pulled away, denying him access. Hanwol just tugged her hair, yanking her head back. He bucked his hips forward as he entered her mouth again, rubbing himself against the inside of her cheeks and then felt Jinni's throat moving as she swallowed.

Honestly, Hanwol couldn't remember when he closed his eyes, but when he opened them, he saw Jinni's lips wrapped tight around his girth. Her eyes were shut, brows furrowed, and she really got her technique down this time. Her lips and tongue worked their magic, occasionally grazing him with her teeth, making her gag even before he was halfway down her throat.

Jinni spread her knees wider, like she was trying to ground herself somehow, and her head started moving faster. She forced herself onto him, shaking and gagging as Hanwol pushed past the resistance at the back of her windpipe before pulling back.

Moaning and totally lost in the moment, Hanwol tightened his grip on Jinni's hair, his mouth hanging open as he kept hammering forward. Jinni's eyes shook with fear, but she didn't back away, knowing things would get even rougher if she did. Instead, she braced herself as Hanwol went at her mouth with renewed intensity. He grunted, completely caught up in the pleasure.

She was hot, wet, and soft, spinning his world around like crazy. He fucked her face even faster, pounding into her stretched throat, savoring every desperate gag. Jinni's eyes rolled back, tears streaming down her cheeks, and Hanwol let out a loud cry as he buried deep. Leaning forward, he cradled Jinni's head in his hands as he blew his load down her throat.

With no choice in the matter, Jinni swallowed every drop Hanwol gave her, but some of it dribbled from her mouth, ending up on her chin. When he was finally done, Hanwol pulled away, leaving Jinni slumped forward on the couch. She was awake but weak, panting loud and hard.

Hanwol's thirst was somewhat quenched, enough to make the air feel steamy as he finally took off his shirt and slung it over his shoulder. He then helped Jinni peel off her sweaty clothes, tearing her tight shirt in half down her back and yanking it off her body, leaving her kneeling there on all fours in her bralettes.

Not that he cared about her boob size or anything, but he figured it'd be better if she was completely naked. So, he unhooked her bralettes, letting the lacy fabric drop down. Jinni didn't put up as much of a fight anymore, which made him give her bare ass a smack, printing a reddish mark on her skin.

Jinni fell silent, her heavy breathing the only audible sound in the room. Yet, Hanwol's frustration lingered, leaving him unsatisfied. He had come this far, so why not push further? That thought crossed his mind.

Giving in to his negative emotions, Hanwol grabbed a handful of Jinni's hair, pulling her upright. With his other hand, he explored her chest, groping her breast. Moving on, he caressed her stomach while gazing into her fluttering, puffy eyes.

"You're gonna be filled up with nothing but my cum, Jinni-ya," he remarked, pressing his palm against her soft tummy.

Jinni simply stared at him, her mouth dry as she swallowed hard. Hanwol didn't require a response either way. He guided her down onto the couch, positioning her in front of the coffee table. Then, he bent her over the rectangular surface.

On the other side of the table sat a glass of milk he had served her earlier. Jinni's blank gaze glued on it, her indifference palpable. That was, until he spread her ass and spat right on her asshole. Her eyes widened as she glanced back at him.

"Wh-What the hell are you doing? Yah! You-You can fucking ruin my pussy, damn it! Don't you—Argh!!"

Hanwol stepped on her head, causing her hands to flail behind her in a desperate attempt to shield her untouched anus. That turned out to be a major mistake as he captured her wrists and bound them with his shirt he had hanging on his shoulder earlier.

With her hands tied, she was once again at his mercy as he gave her pussy a hard slap from behind. "Ahh! Fuck!" She gritted her teeth in pain, yet her legs trembled, and her juices leaked from her sore pussy.

"What the fuck? Did you just come from that? What a slut," he scoffed, delivering another solid smack to her pussy.

Her body shook even harder, her toes curling as more fluid dripped onto the floor. Biting her lip, she suppressed a moan. She wasn't about to give Hanwol the satisfaction he craved by admitting that her body was practically in overdrive because of all the sensation scratching under her skin.

Hanwol's mouth found her glistening skin, planting wet kisses on her shoulder and neck, while his hands reached around her belly, giving it a gentle massage.

"You are so fucking erotic right now," Hanwol murmured. "Would be a shame to let you go so soon..." His fingers traced light patterns across Jinni's waist, causing goosebumps to rise in their trail. "I should keep you like this. Completely naked, Choi Yunjin."

Jinni closed her eyes, trying to imagine she was anywhere else. With anyone else. But then, a warm, wet tongue licked up the side of her neck, and she reluctantly opened her eyes again.

The sensation felt strangely good. Unwanted, of course, but still pleasurable. She didn't want to get lost in the sensations and forget the nightmare—the fact that he was forcing himself on her. Hanwol's fingers trailed down her body, reaching the cleft of her ass, making Jinni tense up.

"This could have gone differently, Jinni-ya," Hanwol said, sounding almost wistful. It took a moment for Jinni to swallow the lump in her throat. "You could have just given in. Let loose and fuck like wild rabbits.”

She shook her head. "I used to care for you, Park Hanwol. I used to adore you. But not anymore... Go fuck yourself,” Jinni calmly cursed him, straining against her restraints, trying to free herself. A firm hand clamped onto the curve of Jinni's hip, and she tensed as his middle finger pressed down between her ass cheeks, pressing against the entrance of her anus.

"Please, don't. I'm begging you," she huffed, fear evident in her voice.

Hanwol loosened his grip a bit, but his finger stayed put, poking her asshole.

"Come on, please," Jinni pleaded again, tilting her head to catch a glimpse of her former manager's face over her shoulder.

Hanwol sneered at her, his grip digging into her hip like an eagle on a mouse, and a surge of panic shot through Jinni's chest before he violently shoved his finger up her ass.

The pain was unbearable. Jinni let out a shrill scream, feeling the dry, burning agony, and desperately tried to wiggle her hips away. But Hanwol had a tight grip, keeping his finger firmly lodged inside her.

Jinni slumped against the table, her head hanging down. Then, he twisted his finger inside her, making her insides clench and spasm in torment. It hurt like a bitch. Tears squeezed through her tightly shut eyelids.

Slowly, he pulled the finger out, making it feel like he was about to rip her guts out too. Jinni took a shaky breath, only to have it shoved back in with brutal force.

Something tore. Jinni felt it like a blazing inferno ripping through her, and she let out an anguished wail. She slammed harder against the table, all her muscles toned up, desperate for any escape that seemed impossible.

Meanwhile, Hanwol's other hand trailed up her spine, ending at the base of her skull, and he yanked her back against him. Full of excitement, he drove his finger deeper, like it was drilling through her freaking guts.

"Pull it out! It hurts!" she screamed, her tied hands twisting trying to reach out to her burning ass. "Please! Ahh!"

But Hanwol didn't give a shit. He kept curling his finger inside her until Jinni's vision blurred at the edges and the room started spinning like a damn tornado. She wished for the sweet relief of passing out. At least then, she wouldn't have to endure the humiliation and agony.

Closing her eyes, she tried to surrender to the darkness, but then Hanwol's thrusts eased up, finally stopping, and she grunted as he jerked his finger out of her and shoved her face down onto the table.

Hanwol freed her hands and instead used a shirt to cover her face. "Hmph!" It wasn't as suffocating as when he choked her, but she still had to inhale deeply through the fabric to get a breath of air, resulting in a constant huffing sound escaping her mouth.

As Hanwol's hands slid hotly along her hips again, Jinni tensed up. She could feel the pressure of the man's cock, and it seemed unbelievably larger than when she had taken it in her mouth. Hanwol had been big before, making her choke and struggle to accommodate his entire length.

Now, Jinni silently panicked, fearing that his cock wouldn't fit before he forcefully pushed it inside her. It was too much. Hanwol's cock was larger than his finger. Jinni screamed, her nails digging into the tabletop as she desperately searched for something, anything to escape, only to find more pain. Hanwol pressed deeper, thrusting his hips forcefully until he was completely buried inside Jinni's already abused hole.

Jinni tore around him, screaming, jerking, and clawing at the table as her weak body protested against the invasion.

The intoxicated man groaned behind her, his hands gripping and releasing Jinni's curvy hips. "Oh fuck—so tight!" he moaned in bliss. "You're squeezing my cock, Jinni-ya!"

He slowly pulled out, causing Jinni to hiss as her insides clung to the retreating girthy member. But Hanwol didn't leave her completely. He paused with the head of his cock still inside her and, with another groan, thrust back in.

Jinni grunted, squeezing her eyes shut. She wouldn't scream again. Hanwol could take what he wanted, do as he pleased, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing her break yet her loud heaving continued without a second break.

More tears streamed down her face as Jinni pressed her forehead harder against the table. His thrusts were forceful and deep, pushing her stomach against the table. Jinni held onto that small pain—it provided a temporary escape, allowing her to focus on one thing instead of the other, although it didn't last long.

Hanwol leaned over her, sliding one hand into Jinni's hair, pulling her head up and back. "I will have you," he hissed in her ear. "Your body. Your pain. Your screams. And you'll accept it soon enough."

Jinni gagged as he suddenly impaled sharply, her eyes blinking open, seeing only white blurry vision. Her body had loosened, her constricting passage slick from his precum and her own fluids. Hanwol slowed down, penetrating her belly deeply until Jinni could feel the bulge inside pressing the table.

Shifting his hips, Hanwol changed the angle of his thrusts, and Jinni's mouth fell open. The pain began to fade, replaced by a burning, aching pleasure that she denied in her heart. She refused to give in. She wouldn't break. She wouldn't allow this to be anything more than what it was—a brutal violation of her body and mind.

"Never!" Jinni exclaimed, but her body had a mind of its own.

Her clit was throbbing, starting off slow but getting stronger with each scratching thrust from Hanwol. Her skin flushed, heat spreading through her chest, nipples fully standing, and her pussy leaking excessively. It was making her dizzy. Jinni's body was on fire, and she couldn't help but let out a moan between her deep breaths.

Hanwol chuckled, loosening his grip on Jinni's hair as his hand trailed down her arched back. He grabbed her ass, going harder and faster, fucking her with wild abandon. Jinni's head dropped forward, mouth hanging open, her spit soaking the cloth around her head, choking on the mix of pleasure and distress.

One of Hanwol's hands found her dripping pussy and began stroking her clit in rhythm with his thrusts. "You see, Jinni-ya," Hanwol groaned, giving her clit a wicked twist that made her stomach flutter. "You're a slut. Your body knows it, even if you deny it."

Jinni shook her head, denying it, even as her body burned with heat, desire, and pulsating bliss. Sweat clung to her skin, beading on her forehead and rolling down her back and chest. But with each passing moment, her denials grew weaker as Hanwol's actions intensified.

Hanwol pulled out of Jinni, gripping her shoulders and turning her towards the davenport. They slipped on the pool of her sticky juices on the marble floor, barely managing to stay upright before falling onto the cushions.

Quickly kneeling between her thighs, Hanwol guided his cock towards her puckered and twitching asshole. This time, as he entered Jinni, her ass welcomed him, making her feel full to her stomach. It stretched her virgin hole wider than she thought possible, almost as if it would tear from the sheer force. But Hanwol didn't hold back, pulling out and thrusting back in.

Jinni's breath caught in her throat as a new sensation shot through her like a lightning bolt. Her arousal ignited, and she squirted girl juice across Hanwol's chest, her legs quivering as he spread them to the sides and continued to pound into her, his cockhead slamming her guts from the inside.

Hanwol was going at it, pounding away with all his might, and the room echoed with the sound of slapping flesh and heavy breathing. Jinni couldn't help but moan, her body heating up and craving something she had never felt before.

"Come on, say it," Hanwol growled, thrusting so hard that Jinni felt like she was getting launched off the couch. She held onto her legs tightly, trying to keep up with the intensity. She was determined to keep her pride.

Jinni tried closing her eyes, hoping to escape the overwhelming sensations, but darkness only seemed to amplify every touch, every thrust, and every surge of heat that washed over her. When she opened her eyes, she saw Hanwol lost in his own lust, and it made her feel ashamed and disgusted with herself.

"Just say it!" Hanwol demanded again, his voice a mix of ecstasy and a dangerous growl. His hips moved with a ferocity that hit Jinni in all the right places, and she whimpered as her clit pulsated.

Her whole body felt like it was about to explode when she couldn't hold back anymore and screamed, muffled, "What do you want from me?! Ahh!"

Hanwol ripped off the shirt covering her face and kept thrusting. Finally, Jinni could breathe freely. He didn't care about anything else now, just fucking her relentlessly, over and over, until his rhythm became erratic and Jinni's eyes rolled back.

He was on the edge of climax. "Just say you're a slut!" Hanwol snarled.

His body tensed up as his orgasm ripped through him. He buried himself deep inside her, pressing his hips against her firmly, and Jinni bit her lip as she felt his hot load flooding her. It felt like he was shooting directly into her stomach, making her feel bloated.

Hanwol jerked and kept going until his orgasm subsided, and Jinni desperately hoped he would be done with her now. He slumped forward for a moment, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his high faded into a satisfied glow.

Letting out a soft groan, Hanwol looked up and let go of Jinni's legs, reaching for her swollen clit instead. No words were needed; his gaze alone conveyed what he wanted as he gripped her pussy lips tightly.

She shook her head. "No…" she weakly said, her voice filled with emotion.

Hanwol's eyes flickered with irritation, and he gave her clit a sharp, painful twist. Jinni hissed but then followed it up with a precise stroke that sent waves of pleasure through her. He fingered her pussy, twisted his hand like a screw, and then pulled back until his thumb teased her entrance.

Tears welled up in Jinni's eyes, and all she could manage was a choked-off sob. She pressed her fist against her mouth, biting down on her finger. Hanwol twisted his hand around her crotch so forcefully that Jinni feared he might rip off her clit.

Jinni let out a cry, sounding like a wounded animal on the verge of giving up, and she slipped off the couch, landing on the cold floor. She huffed, clutching her stomach, feeling too weak to move any further. The tingling sensation all over her body just added to her discomfort.

Hanwol flopped onto the couch, running his fingers through his damp hair and letting out a huff. He kicked back, staring up at the ceiling and realizing that the living room had been dim for god knows how long. The day was almost over, slowly turning into dusk.

Out of the blue, a laugh burst out of him, followed by a scoff. "We're both a mess now. We're ruined, aren't we?" he mumbled, catching a whiff of the unmistakable scent of sex lingering in the air. Exhaustion was finally getting the best of him, and his tired eyes fluttered, gradually closing.

Everything was cluttered. His life, his house, his future— a huge chaos. Strangely enough, he didn't feel crushed by it all. He knew he'd deal with those problems when the time came in whatever way he could. Jinni too.

With his eyes shut, Hanwol's lips moved silently. "Jinni-ya, should I be your manager again after this?" No response came from the violated girl, and a breath later, he drifted off to sleep.

#kpop smut #kpop gg #kpop girls #male reader #non con smut #nmixx smut #nmixx jinni #Jinni smut #male oc #girl group smut #commissioned work

[fictionadventurer]

In Emma, the incident that sparks the story isn't a death or a loss of fortune or even someone new coming to town. It's a wedding. A happy event, usually the end of a story. But I like how this acknowledges that even a happy event like a wedding can bring its own kind of sorrow. Emma's happy for Miss Taylor, but she still mourns the way that her life has to change. Marriage can massively alter social circles, especially for women, taking them away from the home sphere and into a new life, and forcing the people they leave behind to deal with the loss. Here, it's a good change, but it's still a change.

Emma's in a unique position among Austen heroines. She's got money, a comfortable home, a loving father who would prefer she stay in his household for the rest of her life. She doesn't have to consider matrimony as a business arrangement the way some heroines have to. If she marries, it's going to be almost solely for companionship.

Because that's the one thing Emma lacks. She's lonely. She loves her father, but he's not someone she can engage with socially or intellectually. She ranks above everyone in town, so there's no one who can be on an equal level with her. Her father won't travel, so she can't get involved in social events with people who are of her rank and happen to live a little further out. Her attachment to Harriet is a desperate attempt to create a companion of her own social rank, and then marry her to Elton so she can remain in Emma's social circle. Mrs. Martin would be just another farmer's wife who sits below Emma's level; Mrs. Elton can be her equal.

But we can't overlook the fact that Emma makes the situation worse through snobbery. She's not only of a higher social rank than the people around her--she feels herself superior to them. Her father has plenty of friends, but to her, Mrs. Goddard and Miss Bates are just "prosy old ladies". Which is fine--they're more of her father's age, not hers. But it does indicate a wider personality problem. There's more than a hint of Mr. Darcy about the way she goes about detaching Harriet from Mr. Martin because he's so "coarse and vulgar", and trying to raise her up to Emma's standards of what's acceptable.

So, anyway, Emma's uniquely positioned in a story where friends-to-lovers has to be the character arc. And in the process, she's got to overcome her sense of superiority that makes it so difficult for her to classify people as friends.

#the great emma reread begins! #emma #jane austen #i feel like this should have been a bullet-point list #because written out in essay form i'm just restating what everyone's said a jillion times #but i gotta get my thoughts straight to have a lens on this reread

[amerricanartwork]

Fat-Shaming

Technically, Pebbles is right here, but I think it's about time he got a taste of his own medicine!

This is technically the first true comic strip I've done... ever, it seems! I've had it in the works for at least a week, and I'm really enjoying how it turned out! It was inspired by a Reddit post I found comparing these two characters, and this silly scene just popped in my head as a result, since that part of the Gourmand campaign where Pebbles makes little side-insults about your weight will never not be amusing to me. Probably requires more context to get than the previous, but I hope you still found it funny!

Also, a headcanon of sorts below, if you want some more serious ideas:

I like the idea that Five Pebbles has a particular disdain for Gourmand, not just because he's the polar opposite in many ways, but because Gourmand represents everything Five Pebbles and the Ancients sought to overcome: indulgence, attachment to the pleasures of life, attachment to family, having low aspirations, accepting your place in life, accepting life in general the way it is.

I also like to think part of it comes from jealousy — this fat, lazy animal barely scratching the surface of civilization is both able to enjoy all the pleasures of life AND ascend whenever he wants, meanwhile the near-godlike supercomputer far more intelligent than this creature could even hope to fathom in a century is stuck just standing there, abandoned by his creators, trying to solve an unsolvable problem while he literally rots away? He'll hardly admit it, but it really does feel quite unfair, if you ask him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I'm curious to see how my ideas for Five Pebbles evolve over time. As of now, I actually have like, half the campaigns to finish still (did Survivor and Monk, and just about to complete my Gourmand run), so my ideas of his character may not be the most accurate right now. From the glimpses I've gained through fanart and such, there seems to be so much more to the story of the Ancients and their iterators, and it's tragic at that. Needless to say, though I usually don't like tragedy, I'm very curious to see the rest of that story...

#art #artwork #sketch #sketches #drawings #drawing #traditional #traditional art #sketchbook #comic #comic page #fanart #rain world #slugcat #rw slugcat #gourmand #rw gourmand #iterator #rw iterator #five pebbles #quetzalli draws #quetzalli headcanons

[thatonegenshinsimp]

Something’s Fishy Here (Merperson!reader)

Notes: My contribution to Mermay 2024 while I still have motivation to write this month.

Characters: Alhaitham, Diluc Ragnvindr, Wriothesley, Dainsleif, Neuvilette, Capitano

Warnings: mentions of physical violence

Masterlist

Alhaitham (Lemon Shark)

Sumeru was known as the land of kelp. It was a large kelp forest before the reefs of Fontaine and after the clear waters of Liyue and Mondstadt.

You, being one of the more curious members of the merfolk, had been traveling alone for a time.

Sumeru, as it happened, was one of the places you’d been wanting to visit the most.

That was when you first met Alhaitham, a lemon shark merman who was a tad more standoffish than most others of his subspecies.

You were a beta fish merperson, your tail frilled and colorful. It was one of your only defense mechanisms save for the shorter claws you had compared to other more aggressive merfolk that came from harsher places.

Alhaitham was, by all standards, a good lover to you. He treated you well and kept you safe if ever he saw someone as a threat.

One time, you accidentally flipped him over while you were bothering him and that was the day you realized what Tonic Immobility was.

He likes nuzzling your neck and is practically attached at the hip to you all evening after a long day apart from you.

Diluc Ragnvindr (Red Snapper)

You were a shark, so you often tended to be a bit of a loner.

That’s why you were so surprised to find that you had feelings for Diluc, a Red Snapper merman.

Diluc didn’t really know how to react when he found you were often there to help whenever he needed assistance, but he figured out why when you bared your teeth at Donna when she tried to make him uncomfortable and get in his personal space.

Soon enough, he plucked up the courage to ask you to be with him. He noticed you looked rather excited when he asked, and you happily said yes to him.

He definitely laughs when he realizes you can go into tonic immobility.

He doesn’t do it often, given that you’re in a trance for almost fifteen minutes every time he does it, but he does find it heavily amusing.

He likes staying close to you, given he rarely gets to have a break from work, so you usually help him with his work when you’re not working for the Adventurers Guild.

Wriothesley (Great White Shark)

Shark Wriothesley is the best Wriothesley

You were a swordfish merperson, but you quite liked being around Wriothesley even before you got into a relationship with him.

There’s a lot of hunting competitions between the two of you.

Wriothesley, despite knowing you can hold your own, definitely fights for you whenever you two get into any skirmishes with others because of his more instinct driven nature that rears its head in fights.

His territory is the Meropide Trenches that separate the north and south hemispheres of Fontaine’s waters.

He hates it when you flip him over. His tonic immobility lasts for a little over ten minutes, but he still hates it because it stresses him out.

He’s fiercely protective of you, but it’s because he loves you and doesn’t want you getting hurt.

Dainsleif (Greenland Shark)

He’s definitely a Greenland Shark merman in my personal opinion.

Khaenri’ah used to be a reef system, but during a tectonic shift, was sucked deeper down in the ocean, resulting in a tsunami due to the colliding tectonic plates.

The tsunami wiped out many in the population, which were sharks, and Dainsleif, cursed by the Seven alongside the other pureblood Khaenri’ahn people, slowly became a Greenland Shark, but his tail remained the same deep royal and navy blue colors it had always been, despite the fins morphing over time to tolerate the far lower depths of the sea.

That was when he met you, a snailfish merperson, who lived closer to the deeper depths of the trenches.

You got along well with him, and often visited him given how easily you traveled to the deeper parts of the trenches without any trouble.

He’s a tad more protective, but that’s because he doesn’t want to lose you as he has most of not all of the other people in his life.

Neuvilette (Swordfish)

Neuvilette is a swordfish merman, I’ll die on this hill.

Instead of being protective and possessive of you, he mostly just tries to avoid situations where you would need his protection.

He likes giving you gifts, it’s one of the ways he expresses his love for you.

Suddenly, your home is filled with little trinkets and shiny things he finds whenever he’s out and about in the reefs.

He also speaks to the melusines, who swim around with you when you’re unable to see him due to his work.

He likes physical touch, it’s one of the things that calms him down in the rare occasions where he gets angry.

Though he rarely shows it, he does often worry about you, even if you can defend yourself.

Capitano (Great White Shark)

Another shark merman.

Capitano is one of the larger shark merfolk, so he usually doesn’t even need to fight for someone to get the message to leave if they bother you.

You’d wandered into his territory by accident, but you, being a remora fish merperson, immediately thought he was friend shaped and swam up to say hi.

He’s perplexed by you. Few to none of the other merfolk in these waters swim within half a mile of his territory, but he’s certainly not one to refuse the company of someone as kind as you, so he lets you explore.

He slowly grows to realize he has feelings for you, and it’s only when he sees Dottore, a tiger shark, going after you that he realizes that he’d rather fight someone to the death than see you hurt.

After all, it ought to be only him biting you, and certainly not to kill you.

After that incident, he asks if you’ll be in a relationship with him, and you say yes.

He’s a good lover, and provides most anything you wish for.

He’d raze the whole ocean if only to see you happy.

#genshin impact #mermay 2024 #genshin #genshin dainsleif #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #wriothesley #wriothesely x reader #dainsleif x reader #dainsleif #neuvilette x reader #neuvillette #il capitano x reader #capitano x reader #capitano

[anthonsgi]

★’･ﾟ:｡･:*:First kiss with HSR characters PT.1:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

【Note: Hello! I haven't written anything in a while, but I recently got a surge of motivation, so why not take advantage of that? :) There will be a few parts because I want to write for many characters and the process of writing each one is really long for me so I prefer to spread them out a bit, so if the character you would like to read about isn't here, keep an eye out for future parts, perhaps I will include them there! As per usual, English isn't my first language and I'm learning as I go, please be patient with me. Requests are open! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧】

【Pairings: Kafka, Argenti, Blade x GN!Reader】

【CW: I may have added some angst here and there, but I couldn't resist (I tried to end it with a good, slightly bittersweet conclusion each time though)! I wanted to make the characters' traits as similar to the game's as possible, but a few things may still be out of character, sorry in advance!】

a lil note: this is literally just all of these characters being absolutely SMITTEN for you and them fawning over you, but every day is a good day to get praised left and right, no?

☆〜KAFKA〜☆

It shouldn't be much of a surprise that you fell in love with this young and exceptionally charming woman. As a Stellaron Hunter, she ensures that Elio's predicted plans are carried out. That being said, you were a completely unpredicted element in a series of missions; there was never a mention of you ever being included in situations that you always found yourself stuck in. Kafka always saw it as "the usual result of the unforeseen nature of destiny," as she liked to explain to you.

After a while of simple acquaintance, she has grown more fond of you than she has of anyone. Not only were you beautiful in her eyes, which was a big thing for a connoisseur of beauty such as herself, but she felt at ease with you. She may be a sly, unbothered criminal whose prize for capturing her is enough to provide many good-lived lives for a bunch of Vidyadharas, but she actually really appreciates the times when she doesn't feel like she's being chased by people or by time itself.

Being with you was as enjoyable as studying the waves—a peaceful activity, a thought-provoking process. She desired to look at the horizon and discover more than meets the eye, however, it was quite impossible. The job of a Stellaron Hunter is challenging not only because of the relentless pursuit of destiny and the never-ending dangers but also because it entails never staying in one place for too long, never forming more meaningful connections, and never attaching yourself to finite, frail matters. Even though she knew she was more unlikely to run into the same individual twice as a Devil Hunter than she was now, her options were usually limited.

Kafka isn't one to fully hide her true feelings; she spoke very highly of you, your way of being and thinking, your appearance, and your tendency to be the miracle of one's destiny (*cough* talking about herself there). She has developed a habit of complimenting you just to see you squirm away from her gaze and bite your lower lip to try and stop a smile from forming. These occurrences weren't rare; they always followed the same pattern: she said something = you discreetly reacted = she noticed and couldn't stop noticing.

A kiss from her would be more of an indication of her love than a reveal, showing rather than declaring it. It may have happened during one of your late-night chats where you slowly opened up to one another, or it could have happened in the early morning after she invited herself into your home after you had just woken up and weren't sure if you were still asleep. In any case, without having said much, she leaned in, rested her hand on your cheek, and left a tender and delicate kiss on your lips. It didn't last long, but it meant more than a decade of stolen glances and conversations with hidden meanings.

It didn't feel like a goodbye kiss, it never did, but it was clear it was some form of leaving you wanting more, leaving you yearning for her to come back and see you again, and leaving you wondering how long it would be before she does it once more.

☆〜ARGETNTI〜☆

Knight of Beauty, a follower of the fallen Aeon Idrilla. He's constantly on the journey to honor the principles of beauty itself, spreading the grace of his Goddess all over the universe. Discovering numerous forms of beauty in the ordinary and in the extraordinary. When he first laid his eyes on you, it was as if time began to bend around you, a black hole in which the concept of time didn't seem to exist, trapping anyone and everyone residing in its proximity.

Recognizing refinement in people was second nature to him, admiring their souls that mirrored their personalities and beliefs. He wished nothing more than to convey compassion to those who possessed honorable qualities, pure hearts, and desirable traits. Your beauty shone with such radiance that it put the stars to shame; your existence was an excellent reminder of Idrila's presence in the universe.

To Argenti, love is a miraculous feeling that is a joy to experience; it reflects a person's deepest desires and is an act of care so poetic that it almost brings a tear to the eye. In a way, having never experienced it before and having no opportunity to try due to his commitment to traversing in solitude, he decided it wasn't he who was supposed to feel it and that he was merely destined to admire the beauty of it from afar.

Meeting you meant the world to him; you made him feel love for another person for the first time—the all-consuming love from every classical novel he had read. The purest form of it is tragic love, one that breaks down the foundations that hold one's life in perfect balance. He spent several days and nights with you, staying in one location longer than he ever did since becoming a knight—the place where he started to ponder his destiny and his vocation.

He made every effort to push these thoughts away, thinking such things felt like a violation of the universal code of chivalry he upholds, yet when he gazed at your gentle smile as he held your hand, it was a tougher battle than that of a wax candle facing the sun. He was melting into a pitiful puddle as your very being formed him again, never to be the same as before.

One beautiful night, when the birds had gone to sleep, no expectations were laid forth, and no secrets were to be unveiled, Argenti took you by both hands, kissing each knuckle as if they would break if he put pressure on them. He spoke of you as if you were the one he had devoted his life to worshiping, his lips singing silent praises; perhaps it was a prayer, perhaps an apology. His eyes met yours, a nonverbal plea, and you leaned in, connecting your mouths in a passionate kiss, electricity coursing between each soft teeth clashing.

What an outstanding farewell kiss that was. The thought alone made you gulp down the lump growing in your throat. Argenti has to leave, or rather, ought to leave; otherwise, he's afraid he may decide to stay. He's certain your paths will cross one day; it's just the way of the world. Either way, he always finds himself drifting towards beauty. Behind him, he will leave a timeless tale of a wounded and repaired heart, as well as a dose of fate that makes no mistakes.

☆〜BLADE〜☆

The undying man who became a blade, a shell of a person, a mara-stricken monster with no hope for craved demise. His story is one of endless agony and misery. In this everlasting life, Blade's abilities are used in matters including bloodshed, spreading the pain he felt himself, and only then would he feel himself disappear, even for a moment. As bitter as that was, it was reality, his burden to bear. Blade didn't have "companionships" and never needed attachments. The closest he had to an acquaintance was Kafka, whose voice managed to calm the monsters who grew inside him relentlessly, and possibly Silver Wolf. However, he didn't understand her, nor did he wish to.

How you were able to capture his wounded heart remains a forever-unsolved mystery. He, of course, didn't decide one day that the way you laughed made him feel emotions so intense that he wondered if what he was feeling was some form of suffering he'd never experienced previously or that his intensified urge to protect you wasn't just due to the fact he was always nearby when danger struck, but because he genuinely cared. It was a lengthy process imbued with a myriad of understatements and denial. An "I love you" leaving his lips was as bizarre as the prospect of hell freezing over... yet when it did happen, you only wished to hear it again.

He frequently wonders why he finds himself faintly grinning primarily in your presence alone (and obviously during combat). When you resided in his vicinity, everyone could feel a shift in the atmosphere surrounding him, as well as a change in his usual behavior. It was almost comical to observe, especially to his fellow Stellaron Hunters, who never missed an opportunity to tease him. Nonetheless, love expressed by a presumably loveless man is as fascinating as it is arduous. Your existence was curative, helping him to rediscover parts of humanity he thought he had lost, yet healing is a part of him he has come to loathe with every fiber of his being. At one point, he distanced himself, as if limiting your healing influence on him was the sole thing that he could control about his 'condition'.

That didn't last long, and he scurried back to you like a moth to a flame. Blade didn't grasp the concept of physical touch as a kind of comfort; it never failed to remind him of how many times he had been hurt. You, once again, were the exception. Gentle arm touches, random lacing of fingers, your scent, and that insufferable (not really) look in your eyes whenever you stared at him drew him in. As much as he despised life, he did not detest the idea of living simply to be with you; that paradise that always seemed to be out of his reach, a mere push away, appeared to be standing right in front of him.

A minor brush of your body against his made you excited, but a kiss? It's overwhelming to even imagine. You'd have to initiate it, subtly steering the conversation to a topic where it wouldn't be too odd to inquire about moving to the next step in your relationship, acting as lovers. If Blade didn't wear a stoic expression on his face more than half the time, you could tell by his nervous swallowing that he would be at least blushing a little. He wasn't an adolescent, and he didn't think of a kiss as the grandest gesture of intimacy; nevertheless, that didn't free him of hesitations. Being vulnerable and helpless in the hands of another, all of his shortcomings could be easily revealed.

Kissing Blade had to come naturally when you were alone and indulging in small talk; there was no need for a perfectly timed gust of wind or a captivating blanket of stars above, just two imperfect people pouring all of their desires, yearning, and passion into a single imperfect kiss. Your lips met, linking your souls and creating a sensible spark deep within. There was no distance between you, and you were both entirely defenseless against the other's will. After you moved away, it was as if a thousand sentences were pulled from your mouths, yet no one spoke a word. With swollen lips, you were unable to resist a grin while Blade leaned in for another kiss.

lil ending note: hope you enjoyed! also, I have to mention that I know that both Kafka and Blade are Stellaron Hunters so the main problem portrayed in Kafka's part (the never being in one place too long) could potentially be brought up In Blade's part as well, but I decided that would be pretty repetitive so I wrote about Blade's history instead :D

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x male reader #honkai star rail x female reader #kafka x reader #kafka x you #kafka x y/n #argenti x reader #argenti x you #blade x male reader #blade x reader #blade x you #blade x y/n #blade x gender neutral reader #blade x female reader #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x male reader #hsr x female reader #argenti x male reader #argenti x female reader #argenti x gender neutral reader #kafka x female reader #kafka x male reader #kafka x gender neutral reader

[mikavlcs]

Spotlight

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Summary: During an unprompted visit, Wednesday discovers something that you’ve been trying to hide.

Warnings: competetive!wednesday, overuse of parenthesis, this exists outside of canon bc i didn’t wanna come up with characters to replace thornhill and weems lol

Word count: 2.5k

Notes: this was requested by an anon (dino, hi), hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Wednesday could not stand most of the Nevermore population.

Normal teenagers were already grating enough but throw in the various quirks and abilities that came with being an outcast, and you were left with a supernaturally aggravating group of people that Wednesday wanted nothing to do with.

Most of them managed to vex Wednesday without even speaking—their mere presence an irritation to her. And that went for both students and teachers alike. No one was safe from Wednesday’s wrath.

But amongst the outcast-driven chaos and adolescent body odor, she managed to find a few people that she tolerated. Diamonds in the rough (though she would never describe them as that to their faces).

People like Enid, whom she was slowly and unwillingly warming up to, and Eugene, who reminded her too much of her brother for her to not become somewhat attached to him.

Xavier was still able to agitate her by merely being within her immediate vicinity, but he had his rare, fleeting moments of tolerability. Though they started off on the wrong foot, Bianca had earned her respect, solidifying her place on Wednesday’s short list of acquaintances…until they entered fencing class.

And finally, there was you.

A truly unlikely friendship. One that actually began as an initially one-sided academic rivalry.

You were the unfortunate soul that she got assigned to sit next to in a few classes. Because of this, Wednesday found out quickly that you were very smart.

Not as much as Wednesday (no one was), but enough to earn her respect and allow the competitive air between you to form.

She, of course, was winning but you were never far behind, and she refused to let you win.

For your part, you participated in her competition without complaint, but you seemed to do it more out of interest than a need to best Wednesday. Which shifted the dynamic in a way she didn’t expect.

Because unlike Bianca, you didn’t return her insults or instigate fights. You were kind to her. Always. Even when she was anything but kind to you. It made her feel… unpleasant.

So she resolved to stop being excessively rude to you, toning down the insults and leaning into apathy which was her first mistake. Her second was the decision to engage with the small comments you made during class rather than ignoring them outright because once she started lowering the wall between you, she couldn’t help but let it fall a little further each day.

The more she got to know you, the more her indifference morphed into something unrecognizable. The coldness she extended toward you melted, and the acquaintanceship turned into an actual friendship.

It shouldn’t have. In theory, she should have never grown close to you. You were shy, unnaturally clumsy, and you had an absolutely ungodly obsession with puns. But you were also sweet and endearing and pleasant to be around.

It worked in spite of the odds because you somehow exploited the same weakness within her that Enid and Eugene did. A fact that should have upset her but didn’t.

Still, the rivalry, though much friendlier now, endured. Both because Wednesday’s want for challenge never ceased and because you began to enjoy the competition as much as she did.

(Wednesday also enjoyed the look of wonder you had whenever she showed you a perfect test score. But she would never tell you that because you would then think that she was trying to impress you. She wasn’t.)

Whether she was influencing you or not was unclear, but you came out of your shell, matching her usual light insults with playful jabs of your own. Teasing slowly replaced the shy comments you made during class, and you grew just a bit more confident around her.

It only served to warm her up to you further.

The amount of time Wednesday would spend with you outside of class unknowingly increased. And with this newfound closeness, she started to notice some…oddities about your supposed clumsiness.

At first glance, it appeared that you were just chronically uncoordinated—tripping over things that were in plain sight was an everyday occurrence for you—but she discovered that this lack of coordination was a symptom of a greater issue.

That issue being that you had terrible eyesight.

The first time she really picked up on it was while working on a project together outside. You were working under the shade of a tree in the field behind the school and a flash of movement from above caught Wednesday’s eye. She went to inspect it and had to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

Thing, the attention seeker that he was, was trying to wave to you from her balcony.

She commented on it so you could wave back and get him to stop, but when you turned, you didn’t wave back. Rather, Wednesday watched as you struggled to find Thing above you, unfocused eyes flitting in every direction without finding their target.

It got to the point where she took pity on you and pointed to where he was hopping on her balcony railing. You waved in his general direction and got right back to work but Wednesday’s mind lingered on the incident.

She began paying more attention to your behaviors in class, the way your eyes squinted, and you had to lean forward slightly when trying to read something that was just a little too far away.

You struggled most in Miss Thornhill’s class, which Wednesday couldn’t really blame you for.

Thornhill moved at a breakneck pace, something Wednesday liked about her class, but she wrote terms in a small, nearly illegible cursive that even her well-trained eyes had trouble deciphering at times. Being assigned to sit at one of the tables near the back surely only exacerbated the problem.

And if it were anyone else, Wednesday would be happy to know that she had a leg up on the competition. But you weren’t anybody else and instead of finding victory or satisfaction in your hardship, she found herself wanting to help you.

An urge she obviously resisted, but it persisted nonetheless.

During a particularly rough class, Wednesday watched as you constantly tried and failed to understand the things written on the whiteboard up front.

You were so distracted with your notes that you made no attempts to tease her, nor did you tell her a single joke. Not even a terrible pun when she sat down in her seat. It bothered her far more than it had any right to.

After class, Wednesday stayed behind longer than usual. You noticed—if the glances you sent her way were anything to go by—but didn’t say anything. That only bothered her more.

She sighed, slid her class notes over to you. “Here.”

Startled, you looked over to her, then to the papers, then back to her.

“You’re letting me borrow your notes?” you asked, astounded.

“Just this once,” she warned, cold eyes piercing. “It would be a shame for one of my only worthy academic rivals in this outcast prison to fall behind because you refuse to act on your eyes’ obvious inadequacies.”

Before you had the time to comment on her admittance of your intelligence, she was swiftly packing her things and walking off. Just before she left the classroom, she heard a bemused, but grateful “Thanks, Wednesday!” called out behind her.

She ignored it, just as she ignored the disgusting fluttering feeling that accompanied it.

-

Unplanned setbacks were nothing new to Wednesday.

Honestly, this one wasn’t even really her fault.

One of the gorgons—tall, loud, and annoying—called her tiny. Him finding three uncovered, full-body mirrors in his dorm bathroom was simply what she would classify as karma.

When confronted she denied any involvement, citing it as “a truly unfortunate accident” but Weems, for all her faults, was no fool.

So now, Wednesday was confined to her dorm room for the week as punishment. Thornhill was stationed outside to make sure Wednesday didn’t leave her room after classes for anything other than meals and extracurriculars.

Wednesday didn’t have the heart to tell Weems that this feeble excuse for “solitary confinement” was more an escape for her than a punishment.

Though it was proving to be an obstacle for her now.

There was a Botany test scheduled for the next day. That was part of the reason why Wednesday chose to lend you her notes. But she wanted to get some studying done before her quickly approaching writing hour, so she had to get them back.

(Not that she needed to study—she had every word written on those papers memorized, but another sweep over its contents wouldn’t hurt. Especially if it guaranteed her a higher score than you.)

She had planned to retrieve them after harvesting hives with Eugene, but now it wouldn’t be that straightforward.

Fortunately, security measures as amateur as having a teacher stand outside her room were as simple for her to bypass as performing an autopsy. Something she could do in her sleep.

“Thing,” she called to her disembodied companion, “fetch me one of my spare grapples and some rope.” When she didn’t hear his tell-tale scuttling, she begrudgingly added a low, “Please.”

The sound of scampering finally reached her ears and Thing appeared beside her, the grapple and rope she requested nestled between his fingers.

She took the items from him and began tying the rope to the grapple’s end. “Thank you, Thing. If Enid returns before I do, then tell her to cover for me.”

He flashed her a thumbs-up and crawled over to Enid’s bed, no doubt intent on raiding her magazine collection.

After knotting the rope, she kicked the window open and ducked onto the balcony, connecting the hooks to the balcony railing. She threw the rope over the edge and gave it a hard tug to make sure it was anchored properly.

The grapple didn’t budge. Satisfied, she grasped the rope, climbed over the railing, and rappelled down to your balcony below with ease, spotting your hunched form through the glass of your window once her feet hit solid ground.

Silently, she pushed the window open, slipped in, and approached you. “Are you finished with my notes?”

You jumped, hard, knees banging against the underside of your desk and scattering your papers. Chest heaving, you spun around, relaxing when you saw her. “Wednesday, oh my god. Don’t scare me like that.”

She would have laughed or given you a sly remark, but she was distracted. Her attention completely taken by the glasses on your face.

The sleek, thin frames sat steadily on the bridge of your nose. She despised how she noticed the way the color accentuated your eyes. Even more so, she hated how she couldn’t deny that they looked…nice on you.

How unfortunate.

“So you do own a pair of glasses.” The words slipped from her lips as her eyes traced them for the fifth time.

You paused, then settled back against your chair, hands moving to reorganize your jumbled notes as you avoided Wednesday’s eyes.

“Two actually.”

Confusion coursed through her. You had the solution to your problem within your grasp this entire time, yet you decided to not use them? It made no logical sense.

“Then why don’t you wear them to class?”

“I-“ you sighed. “It’s stupid.”

“More stupid than knowingly impairing yourself and your performance in your classes?” Wednesday deadpanned. You stayed silent. She exhaled. “I vow not to use the information to blackmail you in the future if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The promise pulled an airy chuckle from you, and she cursed the warmth it spawned deep within her chest. “I actually wasn’t worried about that, but thank you for the assurance anyways, Wednesday.”

Wednesday gave you a nod and kept her eyes on you. Her expectant gaze didn’t go unanswered for much longer. Your eyes moved to the floor, apparently finding your socks a more interesting sight than her. Not that she cared.

“It’s just-I don’t like the way they look,” you admitted, soft and unsure. “I know you don’t care about others’ opinions but I’m not like that. I’m afraid people will laugh at me if I wear them outside of here. You probably think that’s stupid.”

You were right, she did think that was stupid. Because it was. She knew that insecurities were rarely rooted in logic, but this was just ridiculous. Ridiculous enough that she had to unpack it in steps.

First, the idea that anyone would laugh about you wearing glasses was odd. Thornhill and Eugene wore glasses without issue or ridicule. And if the vampires could walk around in their moronic sunglasses with no shame, then you should have no problem traversing the halls with your glasses.

And second, the ludicrous idea of yours that you looked bad with them on. If anyone were to see you now and say that you looked bad, she would question their own need for glasses.

Even she couldn’t find a single negative adjective to describe how they looked on you. In fact, she was having the exact opposite issue.

Wednesday debated just not saying anything in case she let her unsavory feelings slip accidentally, but she didn’t like how downtrodden you looked. Especially when it was because of something as insignificant as this.

“Well, if you’re going to listen to anyone’s opinions then listen to mine since you know I’m always correct.” The tiny smile that crept onto your face threatened to derail her thoughts, but she pressed on. “I think that you should wear them more often, and if anyone laughs, I will personally see to it that it’s the last sound that they ever make.”

You looked up, surprise flashing across your features. “Really?”

“Considering you literally need them to see, it just makes good sense to wear them, does it not?” she drawled out evenly. Seeing your remaining hesitance, she continued. “And in spite of what you may believe, they don’t make you look any worse than you normally do.”

Despite the blatant insult she included to try and distract you, your face lit up. Wednesday nearly looked away. “You don’t think they look bad?”

“No. I think they frame your face quite nicely actually.”

She didn’t catch her mistake, too busy fighting off the heat spreading in her cheeks to notice her fatal word choice. But you did. You gasped, a wide smile pulling at your lips. “Was…was that a pun?”

The words hit Wednesday like a punch to the stomach. She recoiled slightly, but knowing she couldn’t take it back she heaved a heavy, defeated sigh. “Not an intentional one.”

“Oh my god,” you said through a burst of giggles, “I can’t believe Wednesday Addams just made a pun.”

“Please stop pointing out my linguistic shortcoming. I hate being reminded of my personal failures,” she grumbled, trying to minimize the damage as much as possible. But you paid her plea no mind.

Your soft laughter filled the dorm, a melody almost as pleasant to Wednesday’s ears as the ones she played on her cello. The radiance you exuded in that moment was overwhelming.

She should have been upset with you, she really should have, but she could muster no negative feelings in the face of your unbridled joy. Even if it was at her expense.

So she let you have this victory. Just this once.

And maybe, just maybe Wednesday would be willing to accept defeat more often if it meant seeing you like this.

#pretending tyler doesn't exist is practically my full-time job at this point #wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams imagine #jenna ortega

[lovelybrooke]

I'll wait for you (Yandere Honkai Star rail x genshin!reader).

A little bit of backstory on the reader based on the vision you guys picked a while ago. Based off this concept here.

Also, I could be entirely wrong on how you get a vision, hydro or otherwise. From the research I did, characters with hydro visions worked hard to achieve an ideal version of themselves of the world, which ties into their sense of justice (i.e.: Childe training to be stronger to serve the Tsaritsa's justice). I could be wrong but just bear with me.

Check out my other works here: Masterlist.

---

"And this is where I'm from, you see that big tree, right there." You use a finger to point to the middle of the map you laid out, towards Sumeru. Out of all the things you appeared in this strange world with, your map of Teyvat was most precious.

Yanqing's eye become saucers, a loud gasp escaping his mouth. He stands on his toes, trying to get closer to the map. "What is it called?" He questions, excitement dripping out of his mouth with every word.

You smile at his child like wonder, "It called Sumeru, it's the land of the Dendro Archon." You've told Yanqing enough about the Gods of your world for him to have a basic understanding of them. You'd often recite parts of Teyvat's history to anyone that listen and listen Yanqing did. He was the only one still interested in your stories.

Suddenly you hear footsteps, turning your head to see Yanqing waving Jing Yuan over. He takes slow strides towards you, standing next to you with a subtle smile. He leans over, placing a hand on your back as he examines the map that's spread across his table. "What are you two doing."

"They're showing me where they used to live." It was a simple sentence, but it filled you with sadness. Sumeru was still your home. Regardless of how long you've lived with the Astral Express crew, you feel alone in the vast cosmic ocean, desperately wishing to return back.

Jing Yuan lets out a hum, gazing at the map with an unreadable expression, but his lips were stuck in a thin line. Despite the anxiety it sent through your body, you ignore his expression in favor of feeding into Yanqing's curiosity.

"Yeah, I even got to study at the akademiya before getting my vision." Yanqing's raises a brow, tilting his head in confusion as he looks at you.

"You've mention that before." He said, referring to your vision, "they're like paths, are they not?" You nod, feeling Jing Yaun's eyes stuck on yours.

"From my understanding, yeah." You lean over to roll the map back up, feeling Jing Yuan's hand leave your back, which prompts a small, unnoticeable, sigh from you. "They're gifts from the Archons, usually given when someone faces adversity in some way."

Your words reinvigorate Yanqing, he runs over to examine the glowing blue vision attached to your clothes. The orb swirls with color, reflecting in the wide eyes of the young boy.

Jing Yuan's deep laugh breaks Yanqing out of his daze, his cheeks heating up with embarrassment. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested in how you obtained yours." Yanqing nodded furiously, pulling you towards a seat to sit down.

"Yeah! How'd you get it?" You were plopped down in a seat, to overwhelmed by Yanqing's excited ranting to protest, "Oh--was it a battle? That would be so awesome!" You shook your head, not noticing Jing Yuan sitting next to you.

"No, nothing like that. In fact, it was kinda boring." You raise your hands to calm him down, slightly guilty you didn't have an extravagant story to tell. Yanqing doesn't relent, words tumbling out of his mouth so quickly you can barely understand what he was saying.

"Yanqing, calm down." You heard Jing Yuan say, his words harsh but lacking any animosity. In an instant, Yanqing quiets, looking more embarrassed than he was before.

You jump when you feel a buzzing on your side. It takes a second before you can locate your phone, pulling it out from your pocket. You fumble with it for a while, still not used to the strange devise even after weeks of using it. Right after unlocking it, you're flooded with messages from Dan Heng, March 7th, and Stella, all telling you to come to the Express before it leaves for Herta's Space Station.

"Sorry guys, I have to go." You say as you stand. Yanqing's face falls while Jing Yuan nods. You wave goodbye before heading off, your mind still on the earlier conversation.

---

"(Y/N)!" You shook awake, shooting up when you finally come to your senses. Blinking your eyes a few times at the harsh light, they focus on the person in front of you.

Alhaitham.

His face was like stone, not moving, even as your mouth widened into a yawn. You look back down, cringing at the small bit of drool left on the table, using your Akademiya uniform sleave to wipe it away.

"You slept through all class." Alhaitham said blankly, causing you to groan. You're going to have to get notes from a classmate, already knowing Alhaitham wouldn't have any. Damn him and his eidetic memory.

You stand, grabbing all your book and tucking them under your arm. Without waiting for Alhaitham, you speed out of your class, ready to get back home, unable to hear the yells coming from your friend behind you.

"(Y/N)! Wait!" He's right next to you know, slightly panting from having to catch up to you. You side eye him, still speed walking to your next class.

"Have you submitted the forms yet."

Oh right, the Driyosh forms. You've been wanting to become a traveling researcher for a long time now, unable to quell the ache that was your need for adventure. You love the Akademiya, but you need more, and you doubt you can learn just from sitting at a desk.

You nod to him, "Yeah, I got them right here." You pull them from your stack of books, Alhaitham barely waiting a second before snatching them from your hands. He hurriedly scanned them over, eyeing every letter with an increased sense of distress you were unable to detect. His hands gripped the paper tighter as he read your reasoning at the bottom of the page.

Please state your reason for wanting to switch academic course of study:

"I've felt cooped up and able to learn by simply saying at the Akademiya. I believe taking sometime out of Sumeru will help me widen my knowledge on the work."

Alhaitham didn't understand your reasoning for leaving, but he knows nothing was going to change your mind. You were stuck in your ways, unable to see past your goal once you set your mind to it. You've always talk about wanting to see the world, ever since you were children. But he somehow never realized that it would mean leaving him.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" You don't respond, just nodding as you take the papers from him. His hands were left burning and his mind was fuzzy as you entered into your class with a wave. Alhaitham knew that by the end of the day, your papers would be submitted and there would be nothing he could do to stop you.

---

"Mondstadt, that's so far!" Kaveh yells, getting a groan from Alhaitham. You giggle, ignoring Alhaitham's annoyed expression.

"Yeah, I know, but it just the right time, y'know?" Kaveh doesn't say anything, his face somewhat downtrodden. You don't see it for long before he's grasping your hands, pointing at Alhaitham in anger.

"How dare you leave me with him! I can't handle it." He sits back down with a huff, crossing his arms, "why are you even leaving?"

"You know Kaveh, the Akademiya is restrictive. I want to see the world." You take a bite of your food, sharing a small look with Alhaitham. It was impossible to read his expression. "I want to learn from the locals around Teyvat and teach people about the world. I want to make the Akademiya better." Your eyes were bright, filled with hopeful stares that managed to put both the boys at ease.

Alhaitham thinks you can do all that here, in Sumeru. The House of Daena has a ton of books about the Seven Nations and their people. You could learn the same thing here, but Alhaitham wasn't going to tell that to you. He wasn't going to ruin your dream, regardless of how mad they made him.

Kaveh smiles, he's happy for you. He really is. As long as he doesn't think about it for too long. He wishes he could go with you, but he knows this is something you have to do on your own. Maybe when you return home, you'll tell him all the wonderful things you've seen on your adventures, and he'd be happy once again.

The conversation that night never went back to you leaving, the two boys being unable to except it. Even as you left their shared home, and it was just them, they both never acknowledged that you would be leaving their lives, hoping that when they woke up, they'd see you in the morning.

---

Alhaitham hasn't seen you in years. Your given traveling period extended days, months past the time you were instructed to return. After a year past, Alhaitham assumed you weren't returning.

The entire time you were gone, you only contacted him once.

It was a letter sent to his desk at the Akademiya when he started working as Acting Grand Sage. The letter was light but weighted a ton the more he simply looked at it.

It took his forever to open it, slightly afraid of what it was going to say. After what felt like eons, he swallowed his fear and ripped open the letter.

Dear Alhaitham,

I hope this letter comes to you in a timely manner. I heard that you've become Acting Grand Sage! Congratulations! I'm super proud of you Alhaitham. I know you haven't heard from me in a while and you're probably wondering why I'm contacting you. That's a fair question, and honestly, I don't have an answer.

After exploring all around Teyvat for years, I've realized that there is so much more to learn. I've learned much more in these few years than I have in the Akademiya, and I feel way more fulfilled.

Did I tell you I finally got a vision? It was right after that last diner with you. I got back home, and it was on my pillow. How crazy is that? It's a hydro vision, and I'm still wondering why out of all the gods, why was it the God of Justice that recognized me. I should just be grateful, shouldn't I?

I hope you fix a lot about the Akademiya, Alhaitham. There is so many problems with it, and so much good it could provide if its eyes were opened to the beautiful world around them. The songs, the art, the stories, it's all so fascinating. I know you've never really been a fan of all that stuff, but I just think it'd be great, wouldn't it?

I think that's why I've spend a lot of my time as a teacher. I want knowledge to be spread all throughout Teyvat, have people know about the world around them. But even I'm still learning. Maybe once I return, I could become a teacher. That would be fun.

Anyway, I promise I'll be home soon, so just wait for me, okay Alhaitham?

Sincerely, (Y/N).

Alhaitham didn't make a sound, simply closing his eyes. He promised that he'd continue to wait for you. Regardless of how long it takes.

---

"(Y/N)" What are you thinking about?

"Nothing March, let's get going."

---

A/n: could you tell I like Althaitham?

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #honkai x reader #honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail #honkai star rail

[girlreviews]

Review #146: Parallel Lines, Blondie

Man oh man oh man. I love Blondie so much. I found this record in the Windsor Oxfam. I don’t remember exactly how old I was, but I remember what boyfriend was with me so that puts me between 15 and 18. Yeah, same guy. I actually don’t remember if he ended up getting his hands on this record or not. I think I still have it. Will rifle through my collection later to check.

Blondie was in the “being cool” wilderness for some absolutely crazy reason at that point, and nobody really gave a shit about them anymore. When I was 17 or 18 they were playing the Reading Hexagon which is honestly still just such an unbelievable insult I’m still annoyed about it. I’ll circle back to that.

Parallel Lines epitomizes the complete and total coolness and badassery of Debbie Harry. I have never wanted to be someone more than I wanted to be her. So much confidence. Such incredible cheekbones. Such commitment to art. No apologies. The voice of an angel one moment and snarling whimsical warnings, like, hey you, don’t fuck with me, the next. Always standing in front of all of those completely non-descript nobody dudes. Yeah they’re playing the music, but who cares, who are they? It’s all her. She is Blondie.

Can I pick a favorite? It opens with Hanging on the Telephone, in which she is really threatening to rip the phone clean off the wall. It might be that one. But we’ve also got the classic One Way Or Another, which needs no comment, and one of my actual favorites of all time, Heart of Glass which never fails to fuck me up, but like, it’s a god damn disco track? Like sure, yeah, let’s boogie away our heart break. And I did. And I have. And I will. And these are all SINGLES. We aren’t even discussing the actual album tracks yet. Just listen to it. Honorable mention goes to Sunday Girl, which I always really loved. It’s cute and it’s kind of sweet in a very teenage girl kind of way that worked for me since I was in fact, a teenage girl. Also, not on the official album release, but there was a version of that track where the latter half was sung entirely in French and I always really dug it.

Okay so circling back to the Hexagon. This is a weird story and I’m still not sure how I feel about it, to this day. As I said, Blondie were playing a show at the Hexagon. I was absolutely obsessed with them, and Debbie Harry. I was also 17 or 18 and spent every penny I had on going to shows, but those pennies were pretty limited. I worked as a waitress at the pub that was two doors down from my house. It was full of characters. One such character was a regular, he was in his late 40s, was very wealthy, didn’t drive, was single, and spent literally every bit of his spare time in that pub. Think on that. He paid a lot of attention to the various young women that worked there. Was he creepy? No not exactly. But did it make you uncomfortable? Yes it did. Because you never knew when he might make it weird. Everyone liked him well enough. One day out of the blue this guy presented me with five tickets to the Blondie show. I didn’t know what in the hell to say or whether to accept them. Or what it meant. Whether there were expectations attached to them. Whether it was okay to take them. I was uncomfortable. I was 17.

Here’s what happened. My Mom, who sort of knew him too, since he was always there, decided it was fine, because she wanted to go. But for it to be okay, she decided he also had to come. So we went, he came, and a few friends too. The thing is though, she never knew him like I did. I saw him every day. I saw him with the other girls that worked at the pub. I saw him drunk off his ass. I don’t know that I ever would have taken the tickets. Or if I did, I’m not sure I ever would have invited him. I feel a bit queasy about it to this day. I think in the end something really off-base happened one night between him and someone on staff and he got barred. That was usually the way it went with regulars who were there that often.

The other thing to note is that Blondie ended because Debbie Harry was with Chris Stein, who was literally dying of some rare autoimmune disease throughout their last tour. There were other factors at play, but essentially, they broke up because he was too sick and she stayed at his side and became his full-time carer. When he was well, he left her. They are, remarkably, still close friends to this day and still perform together. Just never forget that men are dogs, and that Blondie is and always will be Debbie Harry. I love her. To this day she looks better than I do in a mini skirt and I love that for her.

ETA: I checked and in fact, I do not still have Parallel Lines in my record collection, but I am quite confident it got lost when I moved back to the US. Also, I’m not 100% certain that show was at the Reading Hexagon. I just know it was a shitty venue not worthy of Blondie. This was 18 years ago. You get the idea.

#album review #music #music review #rolling stone top 500 #blondie #parallel lines #debbie harry

[equestriagirl16]

So I know Arven’s nickname for us, ‘little buddy’, is 100% a completely platonic title he you gives you as someone who’s inherently a softy and connects with you pretty quickly as you dive into helping him with his biggest troubles.

But as a full on Arven simp and someone who’s also a very touchy feely person there’s just something so extremely affectionate about that title. Now whether you prefer the idea of a platonic or romantic relationship with him is all up to the individual, and is totally valid. But for me there’s just no denying the genuine giddiness I feel whenever he calls you that.

Perhaps it’s because he’s one of the few characters in Pokémon games to flat out call you something other than your name. Or maybe the fact that he mostly prefaces it with ‘my’ before saying it, which adds this extra layer of praise and slight possessiveness as if he was instantly attached to you at the hip. Not to mention it usually follows up after a compliment. And the feelings just grow stronger as you continue on your journey with him, getting to know his personality and motivations as he learns yours. Slowly leaning on and confiding in one another through it all.

It’s almost like he knew, like he knew he made the right choice. Sure at beginning it was because he realized you were a strong enough trainer to help him, but he started to see you were so much kinder and cooler. Your reputation proceeded you, but he got to know you personally and not many others can say that. He has so much pride in you and feels like he owes you so much, the least he can do is stick by your side being as much of a constant in your life as you are in his.

At the beginning you were his little buddy and through everything you’re still HIS little buddy. And running into him throughout the game and hearing him say that has made me physically smile more times than I’ve realized.

#I just rly like Arven #the first pkmn chara I’ve felt this attached to in a long time #heck first of few chara in GENERAL I’ve like this fast #pokémon #pokémon scarlet #pokémon violet #pokemon sv #pokemon scvi #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon scarlet x reader #pokemon x reader #pokemon x trainer #pokemon arven #pokémon arven #arven pkmn #pkmn arven #arven #pokémon x reader #arven x reader #pokémon scvi #pokémon sv #pkmn #pkmn sv #pkmn scarvi #pkmn scvi #pkmn scarlet #arven pokémon #Pokémon sv x reader #camiposts

[oneshlut]

Overjoyed (Dr. Flug x Reader) [Headcanons]

Rules For Requesting

Characters I Will Write For

Masterlist

Summary: General Dr. Flug crushing and confessing headcanons

VERY rarely experiences love. This is very new to him, so he will NOT recognize it the first few months he has a crush

Will think of you as a really close friend! At least, he thinks so. He may get a bit more insecure because he thinks you're a better person than him

If you treat him like a normal person and like.. don't bully him??-- He will get attached. I don't think he's recieved affection in a hot minute

You, overall as a person, fascinate him. How can someone be so kind, smart, witty, good-looking (in a totally platonic way), AND care for him? Part of him thinks you're not real. Don't worry, he just hasn't experienced love that often to know what admiration is

He doesn't understand why he gets so nervous around you. He's not scared of you at all, not like he is around Blackhat--you were, in fact, the opposite of him. So why was he getting all fidgety and jumpy around you? It didn't make sense how he could feel so comfortable around a person, yet still feel so anxious all the while

Over time, he becomes a bit protective over you without really knowing it. He'll push you out of his lab when he's doing a dangerous experiment, or will give you the easiest job on missions (besides 5.0.5.'s). He tries to refrain himself from acting this way sometimes, he doesn't want you to feel like you're incompetent in any way--all his intention was to keep you safe! And now he's spiraling because he doesn't know why he feels so protective over you

Sometimes you'll compliment him, and he feels as if Blackhat himself just told him he did a great job on a mission. Except, this time his heart was beating faster, his palms were more sweaty than usual, it felt stuffy inside his mask, and-- ..Goddammit, why is he getting so nervous again?? He then realizes he hasn't responded to you yet, and mutters a small 'thank you' that made him sound a lot less confident he wished he could've sounded

Eventually, he got sick of it. He needed to find out what the hell was going on. So imagine his mini panic attack when he googles 'why is my heart beating so fast', and Google tells him his heart is failing

It's not like he doesn't know what love is, no, far from it. He's seen his average romcoms (and hated them), he knows what love should be like. Hell, he knows the entire chemical formula for the damn feeling. He was just never able to understand what others felt when they said they were 'in love'. Until now.

For him, it was unbelievably weird to have his heart race for someone that wasn't out of fear. Honestly, he.. liked the feeling. If it weren't for how he reacted to it.

Dr. Flug wasn't this nervous around you before. Normally, not at all. When you hung out at his lab, he would ramble on and on about his inventions, only checking in every few minutes to make sure you weren't getting bored of him or anything. But now, knowing his feelings for you, he feels horribly nervous around you. This affects every little thing he does, and he hates it.

When you hang out with Flug now, he realizes how truly lucky he is for you to even do more than just glance over him. Him? Why him? Why not spend your time with anyone else..?

Then he realizes you actually care about him. His existence. He isn't.. invisible to you. And suddenly he's over the moon.

Right--about the way Flug acts around you. Every conversation you have with him suddenly has this weird air around it. You could tell he was more nervous than.. well, usual, but whenever you asked he just waved it off as some upcoming mission or invention he still had to work on. You'd normally decide not to dwell on it too much.

On his end, he thought he was doing everything horribly wrong in front of you. "Catch you on the flip side"??? When has he ever said something like that?! Not to mention his stammering practically increased by 5 times its normal amount, as he was fumbling over most words in every single sentence he dared mutter around you. If he wasn't talking, he was tripping over his untied shoelaces (he almost always had them tied, god, what happened to his schedule-?) or spilling some important chemical all over his workspace.

Overall, he was more fidgety than normal, and he hated it. It made him want to tear his bag out. Why couldn't he just be normal around you? Now he's just worse than he ever was. All his attempts of impressing you were down the drain at this point. But at least he hasn't completely drawn you away--I mean, you still liked hanging out with him! At least, he thinks you like spending time with him.. Part of him is still just the slightest bit insecure.

His worry for you has increased when you go on missions with him now. Part of him wants to just keep you in the hat ship so you don't get involved in something messy, but he knows that would be unfair for you. Flug just worries about you getting hurt, is all. He tries to focus on you a bit more during missions to make sure you're doing alright, but sometimes this just causes him to fuck up even more in front of you. Way to go, Flug. He suddenly feels as if his engineering and villainy PhDs didn't really do that much for him in the long run.

As we all know, Dr. Flug is far from someone to act on feelings. He acts on his logic, most of the time at least. With this in mind, he is the last person you'd think of as someone who would confess their feelings to someone. In all honesty, even if he did muster up the courage to try, he would pass out on the spot. So, he just tries to wait it out until this crush subsides. Spoiler alert: it doesn't!

Right, right--so, since he probably won't ever come clean about his feelings to you, you'll probably eventually just have to confess yourself. Unless Flug slips up one day and accidentally says he loves you in one of his long-winded rambles, in which would make a very awkward situation.

Under the circumstances that you do confess to him first, he.. well, Flug won't believe you at first. You've probably just gotten yourself mixed in with one of Demencia's pranks. A bit cruel, but nothing he couldn't handle. He will have to talk to Demencia later though, she's been getting on his nerves lately.. And besides, the whole spiel of you actually liking him, caring for him, and wanting to be with him? Yeah, okay.

So he laughs. And then he realizes you're serious. Oh. You're serious.. Oh.

Ohhhhhh crap. Okay! So you like him. It was.. It didn't feel real. But it was. And now that same feeling came back to him, the one where he feels his hands getting sweatier, his bag getting stuffier, and.. a new symptom. His legs turned flimsy, and could now just barely hold his body. He leaned onto his desk for support. If only he could see how red his bag was at the time.

And yes, you were able to calm him down, but even as the day progressed, Flug still couldn't swallow the situation. He laid in his bed unmoving, still, and.. awake. He couldn't get his mind off of anything that had happened that afternoon. He's probably pinched himself at least 6 times now, making sure he wasn't just dreaming or anything. After the 7th pinch.. yep, he wasn't.

Eventually, this surprise faded away into another new emotion.

Overjoyed.

#villainous #dr. flug #dr flug #dr. flug x reader #dr flug x reader #headcanons #x reader headcanons #x reader #villainous headcanons #villainous x reader #dr flug x reader headcanons #dr flug/reader #crush headcanons #romantic headcanons #sfw #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #no beta we die like men

[peterman-spideyparker]

my tears ricochet (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader) 1/5

Author’s Note: Hi! This is technically a combination of two ideas--one that I've had for a bit written in my idea notebook, and another I got about a week ago (mildly induced by me watching Gossip Girl for the first time despite knowing all of the major plot points). I don't usually do angst, but boy is it here in this series. Enjoy, and I apologize in advance if I make anyone sad.

Summary: You and Matt Murdock come from different worlds: Matt, the son of a prize boxer from Hell’s Kitchen, you the daughter of a clothing designer and doctor on Park Ave. Meeting in law school was just chance, just was much as you falling for your friend. But fate had different paths for the two of you that pulled you apart, and you felt pain with each tear. Now, just over ten years later, you two meet again by chance, and everything and nothing has changed.

Warnings: Angst, unresolved feelings, lingering love and fondness, canon-typical arguments, language, mentions of death (reader is a widow)

Other Characters: Elektra Natchios

Word Count: 1,807

To say that Matt was annoyed with Elektra was an understatement. Pulling him away from a date was one thing, but pulling him away from a date to go to a ritzy gala? He was pissed. Maybe he wouldn’t mind it if he liked that kind of stuff, but he absolutely hates large crowds, people pretending to be things they’re not to look better than others. It’s just a place for the upper crust to brag. One of these things was the reason that he met Elektra in the first place; while their relationship had its moments in college, that is a moment he repeatedly visits in his mind with regret. There was absolutely no reason for Foggy and him to be there at that event—they were just two stupid college kids crashing a party, and it changed the course of his life. 

Even though Elektra made sure to get him a soft tux, it still felt like it was suffocating him. It was too much, and it was only adding to his discomfort and annoyance. He knows there’s a mission to focus on, but he can’t keep his mind on track. Matt half-listens to the plan Elektra is talking at him about as they stand with champagne flutes in hand, and just as she slips away into the crowd, he hones in on something that has to be a mistake. He puts down his untouched drink on a tray, slowly tapping over toward what has to be an anger-endured hallucination. But as he gets closer had he picks up a familiar scent, he knows he’s not imagining anything. Oh God, he’d never forget that smell. How could he the it’s attached to every memory he has of you?

“Angel,” he breathes. 

He can tell that it catches you off guard by how your posture changes, how your heart skips, and how your breathing increases. You turn slowly and Matt can sense how your eyes widen softly in surprise and something more. Matt listens to your heart flutter like a hummingbird’s as you try to keep calm and dull your buzzing senses.

“Matty,” you breathes, color rushing to your cheeks. His name sounds like honey dripping from your lips. He’s missed that sound. He’s missed you. So, so much. You clear your throat to regain your composure. “What a surprise. It’s lovely to see you here.”

“(Y/N/N),” he murmurs. Matt is simply shocked by meeting you here after ten years—he doesn’t believe his senses that it’s actually you. But it is. 

“Please,” you whisper, mildly embarrassed and suddenly very conscious of yourself as you dip your head and smooth your gown. “No one has called me that in years. (Y/N) is fine.” You sound as if you’re going to cry from nerves—definitely not how you had been just a minute earlier speaking with someone in the crowd. It might slip past someone else, but not Matt. He knows you, no matter how long you’ve been apart.

Matt’s face shifts from surprise to something he can tell you can’t quite put your finger on. “You . . . How have you been? I mean, I’d assume well judging by the scale of tonight and your role in it all.”

“‘Well’ isn’t the word I’d use to describe it.”

His brows furrow. “C’mon, (Y/N/N). Everyone that’s here is because of you and the work you’ve done. This . . . This is more than you could’ve ever dreamed of when we were at Columbia. You’re doing more than Foggy and I could hope to achieve in our entire career.”

“‘Well’ isn’t happy.”

“You’re not happy?”

You give him a sad smile. “I fit into the mold of the perfect Upper East Side darling: went to private schools, society debut, got my degree, worked to established a successful career, got married. Unlike my fellow wives of the Upper East Side, though, my marriage ended in death instead of divorce. Besides, this isn’t anywhere near the work I hoped I’d be doing. ‘Well’ is just a mask I have the burden of putting on everyday.”

Matt’s eyebrows pull down, his heart sinking to his stomach. “You’re not happy,” he breathes softly, pain and sadness painted all over his face.

“I’m not,” you admit, holding back tears to save face. “I haven’t been in years. We talked about it at Columbia—this life wasn’t what I wanted. I was naive to think I could have anything different. But at some point . . . My happiness stopped mattering. It wasn’t important. I just needed to become the woman I was expected to be, and I did.”

“Angel.” He moistens his lips. “Your happiness does matter. When you’re happy . . . (Y/N/N), it lights up the people around you. It’s infectious, it’s like sunshine, it’s . . . It’s why I fell in love with you in law school.”

That sentence is a knife to the heart, and the slight shift in your stance tells Matt that he knows what he just did was not the best move.

“It’s a shame it wasn’t enough to keep us together, then.”

Your words kill him, but no matter how they hurt, he knows they’re true. “(Y/N/N)—.”

“Do you know when I first fell in love with you, Matt?” He just looks at you as he holds on to his cane. Nervous. Fragile, even. “Two weeks in, fall semester, first year of Columbia. We were studying in the library, and it was late. You could tell I was losing steam and giving up, and you took my mind off things and cheered me up by balancing a ruler on that huge, beautiful nose of yours like a goddamn otter. The way you smiled when I laughed . . . That man who had a passion for the law, wanted to help those that needed it most, fiercely loyal, he’s who I fell in love with. He’s who I thought would stand beside me through anything. He just never felt the same, no matter much I wished he did.” That salt Matt tastes in the air tells him that you desperately want to cry right there in the middle of the party no matter who is around, but you catch the eye of someone else in the room—a silent savior in the conversation. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go mingle with guests. It was lovely to see you tonight, Matthew.”

“(Y/N/N), wait, please—.”

“I’m sorry, I have to go.”

Matt’s frozen as he listens to you walk away, interacting with the people at the party as if your conversation never happened. He feels a hand rest on his shoulder before it slowly runs down his arm and hooks in the crook of his elbow. 

“We need to go,” Elektra whispers. “Now.”

Gently tugging him along, Matt feels like he’s having an out of body experience. He doesn’t want to leave, not with you here, not when every fiber in his being is telling him to stay and catch up, talk, try and fix what was lost—what he broke—during your last year at Columbia. Unfortunately, his shock and awe at seeing you again is perfect for Elektra to use to drag him out of the building and into the car waiting for them, giving the driver a new address. 

“Well, I was only able to recover part of the files, thanks to someone getting distracted. But, I read some notes on a desk calendar, and the portion of the files that we really need are—.”

“Did you know this was (Y/N)’s company’s party? Did—.” His blood runs cold at the thought that crosses his mind. “Does she know what she’s involved in?”

“She’s not involved at all. One of the charities that her company supports is involved—someone higher than her has their signature all over the paperwork. She is in the dark.”

“Then we need to protect her. We—.”

“The best way to protect her is to take down the Hand. She’s fine, Matthew.”

“No, she’s not. (Y/N/N) . . . Tonight, she was like a ghost of the woman I knew in law school,” Matt tells Elektra. 

“She’s fine.”

“She’s not.”

“She made choices and is living with them. She’s fine.”

He feels shell shocked. Everything is telling him that that couldn’t have been you, even though all signs point to yes. “Those weren’t her choices. I could’ve been there for her—I should’ve been there for her to tell her that what she wanted was important and mattered more than what her parents thought. I . . .” He hangs his head in shame. “I let myself get distracted by something that didn’t matter.”

“Matthew—.”

“Her life could’ve been so different if I stayed with her. My life could’ve been different.”

“It would have been a life you hate. When you have someone like that . . . it doesn’t matter what you do. Their status will take precedence. Any life different than that that tries to mesh with it . . . It would go up in flames, no matter how hard one tries.”

“I could’ve made her happy, Elektra. I could have at least made sure that she was okay all these years, something. But I abandoned her. And I never told her why.”

“It’s not like she didn’t land on her feet. Besides, it never would have worked between you two.”

There’s something different in her voice that Matt can’t quite put his finger on, but it fills him with rage.

“You don’t know her like I do—did. We would have made it work, we could have done it. Status be damned, she—.”

“Your big heart is blinding you more than you already are. You don’t get it. It’s not just her social standing. You’re too different personality wise. Do you really think she could handle what you do in your spare time? Don’t you think that would shatter her, tear you two apart?”

“She’s part of the reason I started doing this!” Matt snaps. “She . . . Having any kind of relationship doing what I do is difficult. It wouldn’t matter if she was completely in the dark or out with me every night. (Y/N) would stay. It would work with us. I know it. She wouldn’t give up on me.”

He senses Elektra’s 180 shift in her demeanor. “Fine. You can have your movie moment with her, but you finish this with me first.“ She shifts in her seat. “I’m telling you it won’t last. You say I don’t know her, but I do, Matthew. And she will leave you broken because she never will be able to accept all of you.”

“You know, maybe she wouldn't. Maybe it wouldn’t last. But I wouldn’t forgive myself if I never tried to repair that bridge.”

“Your heart will always be your Kryptonite, Matthew. Mark my words.”

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[mrsrookhunt]

Hello! I saw your request was open and I wasn’t sure what to really think of

So maybe a general or simple nsfw hc of Yandere Chuuya?

My first ask! Of course! ❤ I added more characters for the sake of making a well-rounded post, but I gave chuuya a bonus scenario :) Enjoy!

Yan!Bsd Men in Bed

NSFW!!

(Short post, feel free to request more characters)

Pairings: Chuuya Nakahara, H.P. Lovecraft, Mushitaro Oguri, Jouno Saigiku

Chuuya Nakahara

Warnings: punishment, manipulation, yandere, kinks mention, violence mentioned/implied

Chuuya is nice in bed, mostly.

He's powerful, and not afraid to be the dominant one, but he is still very respectful of your boundaries. He feels very guilty for the way he's treated you, so protectively, in his eyes. But you've grown tired of it, and he knows; so, as not to anger you further, he tries to make you as in control as possible.

Chuuya will do whatever you'd like, so long as he still gets to be the one in charge. He'll indulge your kinks or let you explore with him, permitting it doesn't cross his own boundaries (but considering the fact that you're willing to be intimate with him at all, he isn't too picky).

Definitely into degradation and BDSM, but he's fine if you're uncomfortable with that. Only occasionally will he ask you to do something that steps outside of your comfort zone, and it's usually for special occasions, like his birthday or holidays. I feel like mirror sex would be a special anniversary treat with him.

He's only rough with you if you ask or more like plead, or if you need punishment .

Chuuya doesn't take sexual punishment (or any punishment) lightly, but if you've pushed him far enough.... He may torture you in very unexpected ways.

You think, for a moment, that you're in trouble. You fucked up, you fucked up so bad. Chuuya slammed the front door behind you, with a blatant fury that made you jump.

"Please, Chuuie, I'm sorry-- don't- don't do anything rash now-"

"Don't tell me what the FUCK to do in my own home."

He cornered you into the kitchen, snatching your arm and bending you over the center counter.

"Tell me how sorry you are.' His voice was soft, quiet. Testing.

"I'm sorry--I'm- really s-sorry" You choked out from between sobs. You had never seen it coming, the violence, the anger, the sheer reaction, to your misdeed.

The cold granite countertops cut into your stomach with the chill and pressure. You squeezed your eyes shut as he reached for his back pocket, the one with his knife.

You gasped when a small, shockingly fast-paced vibrator was placed on your thigh. Out of all the things you thought he could and would do to you, this was not one.

He put his hand on your other thigh, making you involuntarily moan.

"I'm going to show you the true meaning of punishment tonight."

H.P. Lovecraft

Lovecraft essentially has no idea what he's doing in bed; he understands the concept in theory, but he really still feels lost. His sense of clinginess and protectiveness doesnt carry over into the bedroom, and is lost on everyone but you, so you're the only one who can guide him in this matter.

He gives you the most doe-eyed look if you ask if he ever considered sexual punishments. He doesn't really understand why sex is used for pleasure or pain; he finds procreation to be the only benefit to him.

Overall, getting him into bed with you is the biggest challenge, but once you've got him there, you can change his life; and you certainly will.

He's not a man to make much noise or fuss, but he's absolutely blissed out, and wonders how he has not understood this aspect of life before.

By the time you're done, he's more attached to you than ever, curling you into his arms and refusing to let go. You've shown him just one more reason to love you as much as he does, and keep you from showing anyone else the same kindness.

Mushitaro Oguri

Mushitaro finds sex in general an indecent act for most anything. That isn't to say he doesn't have urges like everyone else, but for the sake of his meticulous regimen, he will squish them down until he absolutely cannot control himself anymore.

You're both the source of his frustrations and the perfect release. Mushitaro is completely in control in bed, just like he is in every aspect of your life together.

Mushitaro can be kinkier than most men; casual choking, roleplay, and some hardcore BDSM can be in the cards for you depending on how far he's gone to deny himself previously.

That being said, your needs also often don't get met. You don't like to ignore yourself the way he does, but he forces you to. You're not allowed any toys, he has SafeSearch on for google, and you are routinely scolded on the indecency of self-pleasure, regardless of whether he's caught you or not.

Mushitaro's demanding and high maitenence personality makes him one of the worst in the sexual part of your relationship.

He rarely considers sexual punishment, unless the circumstances are juussst right. I.e, if you've been caught touching yourself in any way, shape or form, and Mushitaro's already been hot around the collar, he may be rougher and more cruel in bed than normal just to teach you a lesson.

Jouno Saigiku

Joun-bug's high sex drive makes him a worthwhile adversary in the bedroom. Much like Chuuya, he wants to be in control; but more than wanting to, he will be in control.

He'll push you to the brink of absolute pleasure and then throw you down and tell you how worthless you are until you beg and plead and go through whatever torture he has planned to get him to finish you off.

Jouno is always going to be... well, Jouno. He'll sadistically torture you in every way he can possibly exploit in bed for his own pleasure, and he doesn't give a damn whether you're comfortable with it or not. Remember, his composure and sweet smile is a farce he hides behind; and he'll show you his true self when he feels it's appropriate and necessary.

Maybe he'll be gentle with you, if you've been put through enough and he feels you deserve it. He does love you, but his desires take priority. If you've gone through whatever he had planned for his own pleasure, he may indulge in yours.

Sexual punishment is the worst with him; he takes absolutely no mercy on you, and punishes you often, for the smallest of things.

#x reader #x character #character imagines #fanfictions #fanfic #bungou stray dogs #fanfiction #jouno x reader #jouno saigiku #bsd smut #mushitaro x reader #mushitaro oguri #yandere chuuya #yandere #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara #lovecraftxreader #bsd lovecraft #yanderelovecraft #yandere jouno #yanderemushitaro

[cheeseanonioncrisps]

The thing with Alastor is that I think he genuinely does like people. I don't think he cares too much about many individual persons, but when it comes to people as a collective he likes and wants to be liked back.

You don't go into entertainment if you don't want some kind of validation from it, and Alastor got so into radio in life that his soul was moulded around it in death.

And that's fundamentally the source of a lot of the conflict in his character.

Alastor wants to be the feared and hated Radio Demon. But he also wants to be ‘Al, that charming guy from the radio!’

Alastor wants to be treated with respect and terror at all times. But he also wants to have fun and joke around with people.

Alastor wants to keep the reasons for his disappearance a deadly secret. But he also wants to go to the Overlord meeting and have everyone dying to know where he was and what he was doing.

(“And when Alastor's not in the scene, all the other characters should be standing around like ‘hey, where's Alastor?’!”)

This is why Husk, up until he touches that particular sore spot, gets away with so much more in his relationship with Alastor than, say, Angel gets with Valentino.

Val wants Angel to be a tool or a toy he can control. Alastor kind of wants the same from Husk, but he also wants to be able to play the role of the cheeky but charming boss who can talk Husk around with a wink and a bottle of cheap booze.

(A role that Husk, for his part, goes along with because it allows him to keep some of his dignity. He gets to snark at Alastor and act like he still has even the slightest control over his own destiny. Alastor gets to laugh it off and act like he's a good employer. They both know it's a lie, but Husk clings to it because the alternative is even more humiliation, and Alastor finds it too much fun to give up.)

This is also I think the real reason he and Rosie are such good friends. Because Rosie is also 100% playacting.

Cannibal Town is a fucking dangerous place. Given that Charlie considered the “sights to see en route to my hotel” a selling point for joining her army (a hotel in walking distance) I'm guessing there are some restrictions preventing the residents from leaving. People eat corpses in the streets.

Rosie is clearly a fearsome and vicious Overlord in her own right. Even Lucifer's daughter is twitchy around Cannibal Town.

But, at the same time, when the streets aren't covered in blood and viscera, they're gleaming. The people are all well dressed. There are quaint little shops. Everyone is smiling, all the time.

It's clearly a stage play, but it's one that Rosie and the residents seem to enjoy acting out, and one that they let Alastor have a role in when he visits. In Cannibal Town, Alastor gets to be the charming young man about town whose smile brightens up the place and who everybody (except, ugh, Susan) is pals with.

And I think it's this conflict of personas that is ultimately going to be the biggest factor in whether Alastor ends up being a hero or a villain on the show.

Cause like, Alastor the altruist is obviously an act. But, so is the Radio Demon.

Alastor isn't an all powerful killing machine. In most of the scenes he's in, he's not even the most powerful person in the room. (Albeit

primarily because he's usually accompanied by Charlie.) And he's not acting purely on his own whims, he's on someone else's leash.

I don't think Alastor is necessarily capable of feeling remorse for the stuff he's done in the past. Or caring about other people more than he does himself. It's just not his character.

But I think he is capable, given time to get attached and a lot of positive reinforcement, of deciding that playing 'steadfast hotelier' for Charlie and co is more fun than playing the evil Radio Demon for everyone else.

Picking other people over himself is probably not something that's going to happen for Alastor any time soon. But picking one persona over the other? That I could see.

#alastor #the radio demon #hazbin hotel #hazbin meta #hazbin headcanons #charlie morningstar #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin hotel husk #alastor hazbin hotel

[satoruxx]

NORTHERN LIGHTS.

✧ PAIRING: kaeya alberich x fem!reader | 4.5k words

✧ SUMMARY: smut, p -> v, praise, fingering, lots of pining, angst, angsty bc it’s kaeya tbh lol, kaeya lore but it’s vague, also military themes bc sometimes we forget kaeya is a captain and i love the knights of favonius, he’s highkey got commitment issues but i think he’s valid, man is whipped tho, he's just an overthinker and traumatized, also can you tell i’m a med student?

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: first i have to apologize bc this is SO late??? i got this request back for my 200 event, asking for kaeya with the song northern lights by kennie (which is such a good song). at first i was gonna make it a short little drabble, but the more i wrote, the more i wanted to make it a full fic, which is what ended up happening. kaeya's character has so much depth and i wanted to explore it hehe. northern lights is such a fitting song for him so i just had to go all in. but i'm so sorry that i got to your request so late, hopefully you still enjoy it lovely! (even tho it’s not the main focus in this fic, this is technically my first real smut fic so take it with a grain of salt; i don't think i write it that well LMAO)

it was rare to truly know your own weaknesses, but kaeya knew his a little too well. behind his carefree, unbothered exterior he cared a little too much. he cares a little too much when klee tugs on his fur cape and whines about a scolding she’s gotten from jean, and he ends up indulging her with whatever she’d like. he cares a little too much when rosaria spills just a tad more than usual during her drunken ramblings. he cares a little too much when he sees the discomfort in the face of certain fiery bartender as they speak, and he consistently lies awake and remembers days when that discomfort between them didn’t exist.

it’s a curse, he thinks, because he always ends up feeling too attached to people he knows he shouldn’t be attached to.

even now, his weakness is acting up as he barks orders to his soldiers. they scramble around him as they enter the city, carrying their wounded brethren to safety up at the cathedral. kaeya knows he shouldn’t blame himself but as their captain he feels like he should’ve seen this coming. new recruits wouldn’t be able to handle the hordes of monsters at daduapa gorge—he miscalculated.

“take them to the sisters at the cathedral. sister barbara and the others should be able to heal them,” kaeya commands, clasping one of the men’s shoulders and helping him up to the church. he’s ignoring the now dull throbbing in his side as blood stains his clothes—his soldiers were most important right now. like he said, he cared a little too much.

the nurses had set up a medical station at the cathedral, and in between all the commotion, kaeya’s finally able to hand over the groaning soldier to a nurse, who immediately gets to work.

he then takes a few steps back to assess the damage, grateful that all of his soldiers are getting the attention they needed. he’d hate himself if there were any losses today.

he doesn’t even realize that he’s now leaning against the wall, panting shallowly as blood continues to pour from his abdomen. oh well, he’d wait his turn—only after his soldiers were taken care of.

kaeya shuts his eyes, letting his body rest for a minute.

“you’re wounded.”

his eyes shoot open to see you standing in front of him. he assumes you’re not one of the nuns because your clothes are entirely different. you’re young, appearing to be around his age as you eye his torso critically.

“it appears so,” he answers.

“did someone take a look at you yet?”

“i’d prefer all my soldiers be taken care of first.”

your eyes flash with recognition. “so you’re captain kaeya?”

“indeed i am.” he lets his eyes roam over your concerned features.

you give him a small smile before continuing with a sigh. “i can safely tell you that all the wounded are being treated. i’m still an apprentice so i’m only here to deal with the non fatal injuries. like yours, captain.” you crouch down in front of him, fingers reaching towards his clothing with a silent question of permission. he lets his hand slacken as he gives you a nod and you attempt to peel back as many layers as you can to asses the damage before you’re motioning him towards a tent.

a few minutes later and kaeya is letting you strip his torso bare until you have a full view of his injury. your fingers brush over the wounded skin gently, and he wonders if you even touched him at all. “it’s long, but not too deep. a few stitches and you should be alright. if you’re okay with it, i’ll get started,” you tell him.

kaeya wants to tell you that he’s no stranger to the pain of injuries, but he finds something oddly refreshing about your comforting attitude, so he just says yes and lets you begin to work.

you thread through the skin with a delicate hand and despite the sting he honestly can’t even focus on it, choosing instead to analyze your features.

he realizes that you’re awfully pretty.

kaeya makes small talk with you as you work, partly to stay awake through the pain and mostly because he can’t stop his curiosity. he finds out your name, your hobbies, your goals. you may not have the most exciting life but kaeya thinks there’s something so alluring about you it makes him a little dizzy. he's not sure what it is, but he thinks about it the whole time you tend to his wound. realization hits when you finally finish, looking up at him with a smile, and kaeya realizes that your eyes hold the stars in them.

it’s hard to explain but when kaeya watches you work, nose scrunching in the dim lighting of the tent, he thinks you remind him of home.

(kaeya has chased the stars for as long as he can remember. he remembers shouting with diluc in the grass behind the winery, the two of them reaching for celestia because the stars up there were so undeniably pretty.

"we're never gonna get them!" diluc would laugh, trying hard to balance kaeya on his little shoulders. "they're too far…"

and kaeya only grins down at him toothily, raising his fists to the sky. "no way! i'll catch them one day!"

and yet his whole childhood went by without being able to capture the stars. as he grew older he started to learn that it was impossible to steal what the sky so selfishly held on to.

but even as an adult, kaeya knows to appreciate the stars when he gets the privilege to see them in the sky.

especially after he finally seems to find them in the dim glow of a medical tent.)

he hates to admit how often his eyes seek you out after that one encounter. sometimes he’ll see you at the cat's tail, giggling with your friends as you slam tcg cards down on the table triumphantly. other times he’ll catch a glimpse of you at good hunter, chewing on a quick meal as you browse through a book. almost every time he gets caught staring you only smile and offer him a little wave that sends his brain into a frenzy.

(maybe in another life kaeya would allow himself the luxury. he’d let himself go through the motions for you. let himself stress every time you threw a glance his way. work up the courage to ask you out on saturday afternoon. finally get the chance to press his lips to yours. trace your skin with nimble fingers and have the privilege to call you his.

in another life maybe.

but for now he’ll just keep you his own little secret—a guilty pleasure he’ll indulge in because it’s hard to rid an addiction, especially if you don’t have the will to rid it in the first place.)

kaeya’s messed up this summer. he knows it in his soul that he’s made the wrong decision as he watches you babble about something as you lean against his bare chest, still basking in your own afterglow.

he knows that he should have resisted the temptation. as soon as he and the troops got back and he saw you sitting in a secluded corner at angel’s share he knew that his feelings for you hadn’t dissolved.

they say absence makes the heart grow fonder and kaeya only now knows this to be true because just the sight of you sends his mind into a frenzy. you could probably feel his gaze on you because you look up from the book you’re reading and make straight eye contact with him. for a second, he wants to turn away but then you smile at kaeya like you’ve never once forgotten him, and he’s putty. before he knows it, he’s buying you a drink and walking over to your little corner to make himself comfortable.

it’s a slow descent for him because in his head he knows he shouldn’t get too attached. he’ll leave again soon with the troops, and who knows maybe he’ll leave them behind one day too. his future has always looked so clouded to him, and he knows you belong in the sun. he’d like to leave you there in the light—avoid dragging you into his darkness.

so he tries to keep it simple, occasionally meeting you for a drink or catching up around the city. but then you’re showing him your favorite place to study near starfell lake and he’s showing you his favorite stars while laying on his back on starsnatch cliff. and he knows he can’t avoid it.

soon enough he’s giving into everything he said he wouldn’t, finally finding out what you taste like. finally knowing how his name sounds when it falls from your lips.

it's more addicting than he could've predicted, the feeling of your breath against his skin as you pant out his name. kaeya can't even bring himself to pull away from you to stop and think for a second. if he did then maybe he could slap some sense into himself and draw some distance because archons above he was digging himself deeper into this hole. but he can't, not when you're gripping his shoulders as he presses you against the wall of his bedroom, whining into his lips for all that he can give you.

and kaeya is nothing if not generous.

so he indulges both you and himself—the perfect mix of selfless and selfish as he guides you to his bed, nimble fingers loosening the ties of your clothing until you're bare in front of him. he can see the bashfulness settling into your cheeks and he almost feels like goading for just a minute, but he decides he'll be nice.

you've always deserved a nice guy anyway.

he tries to push that thought away, instead distracting himself with the heat of your body, his fingers dancing along your skin eagerly. maybe, just this one night, he can let it be about you two. he can afford to forget about all the old promises he's made—all the responsibilities and duties he devoted himself to a lifetime ago.

kaeya ignores the flush of heat crawling up his neck as he hovers over you, caging your body underneath his as you squirm in anticipation. he understands—the tightness in his pants is enough for him to feel the same. but he's not worried about that, not when his fingers part your thighs eagerly, brushing over heated skin and finding slick wetness there as he dips into your cunt. he hears the sharp intake of breath, the quiet restrained moan, and he preens. kaeya revels in the sounds he pulls from your lips as his fingers curl against your slick heat, your head lolling back against his pillows.

there's a possessive streak of something that cuts through him then—something that tells him how he aches to be the only one who gets to hear those sounds.

it makes him slightly sick.

kaeya realizes then—he's been quite stupid when it comes to you. he's kept the maelstrom of feelings brewing in his soul trapped under all his bravado, arrogant and cowardly all at once. he needs to tell you, needs to be honest because this isn't something he can trick his way out of.

but all he wants to do is run. run so far away from you because he doesn't want you to to get caught up in his own ruin. you're far too good for him, too sweet and carefree to be tainted by his sin-laden hands. he needs to run.

but he does none of that, not when he's guiding his fingers to the apex of your thighs and exploring territory he knows he shouldn't claim. because then you look at him with an expression so blissful—so thankful, relieved that he's giving you a part of himself he never wanted to—and he can't even be angry about it.

kaeya presses his lips to the swell of your chest, feeling the rapid thumping of your heart under your skin, and he shuts his eyes as he breathes out your name. you answer with a resounding mewl, catching his eyes even through the dark strands of his hair.

he then chooses to focus on pumping his fingers in and out of your cunt because archons do you look heavenly when your eyes roll back like that.

but it scares him, the way you leave him open and exposed and aching even when he doesn't want to be.

in his head you're perfect, all bright and glowing under him as you chant his name like he's some kind of savior. but kaeya isn't a savior—if anything he's destruction in human form, sent by the heavens to wreak havoc on those around him. he'd destroyed enough already—he doesn't think he can do it to you too.

but archons the way you're looking at him now, from under fluttering lashes and dewy eyes that shine even brighter when they're trained on him—begging, pleading, and oh so trusting of him and every thing he wants to give you. he can't even help himself.

"i know, sweet girl," he sighs, voice strained as you buck your hips just perfect—a temptress, sent to lead him to his doom. and yet he can't stop his fingers from pushing back your hair from your sweaty skin, knowing that he should be careful because he doesn't want to destroy something as fragile as this.

"kaeya please," your breath comes out in short desperate pants, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders haphazardly.

"i know," he repeats, reaching down to heft your thigh over his waist as he slots his hips against your own, biting back a groan at the sensitive brush against his cock—throbbing, aching, needy.

"ah fuck," he's almost shy at the way his voice shakes as he lines his cock up, the heat and slickness of your cunt a teasing caress against his sensitive head. he drops his forehead against your shoulder, breathing heavily even before he's inside you because something about this makes him so incredibly nervous. a single desperate whine and the soft squeeze of your fingers into his biceps and he's stilling—breath catching, heart pounding.

for a moment, he doesn't even feel like himself. he's not anything, no one.

and then he slides in and kaeya knows that there will never be anything better—another experience that would feel this right in his life.

he pulls out a little, gaze lingering at the sweat beading at your forehead, and something in his chest stutters. "okay?" he traces your face for any hint of hesitation—of the nervousness that he feels in his gut, but all he finds is a stormy mix of desire and devotion.

"uh huh," reassurance, stability—everything he isn't. his brows pinch, eyes shutting because he doesn't want you to know.

he's pulled out of the whirlwind that is his thoughts when he feels your fingers on his cheek, brushing over his skin gently. his eyes snap open, and even through the haze he can feel himself relaxing under your touch, because the way you're looking at him is so undeniably loving and it makes his stomach flip.

"you okay?" you whisper, looking up at him carefully, and kaeya feels as though you've put him between the halves of a microscope slide to analyze him.

"i'm fine," he breathes out, not a lie but not the whole truth either. "don't worry."

his words do little to quell you, but one roll of his hips has your eyes fluttering, a choked moan escaping your throat, and the sound makes his pride sing.

there's an image then—hazy and yet so obvious as his brain registers it. the implications behind it makes his stomach churn.

quiet smiles, hazy kisses, soft goodbyes—and then the inevitable distance as he crosses over the border separating your world from his. a lone figure standing in the streets of mondstadt, always waiting for him to come back. always disappointed.

you buck your hips upward, blissfully unaware of the torrent of conflicting emotions in his head. kaeya's brain short-circuits, and then he's pushing back, a steady rhythm against your gummy walls that takes the breath out of your lungs. you savor every thrust, punctuated by the sharp grunts he lets out against your throat.

your fingers rake over his back, desperate and needy and focused on one thing only—kaeya, kaeya, kaeya.

"that's it sweetheart," he doesn't have any more control—not on his mind, his body, his mouth. they've all escaped his grasp, too spurred on by you and everything you're willing to offer him.

"'s okay…ah fuck…it's okay," kaeya groans into the column of your throat, not sure whether he's telling you or himself. the clench of your walls sends him spiraling, hips picking up the pace as he pistons his cock in and out—trying to find out just how far he can go.

then he hits one spot, and his vigilant gaze catches the way your jaw slackens, eyes glazing over even as they roll back and a shaky moan escapes your throat—surprised, unexpecting. his ego jumps.

an experimental roll of his hips against the same spot and you make a sound so unhinged that he finds himself already addicted to it. and to tease is in his nature.

"yeah? right there?" he drawls, masking his anxiousness with his bravado once again.

"right there," you whimper, nodding meekly as you grip his shoulders. he huffs out a soft laugh, pressing a gentle kiss to your eyelids like he's trying to kiss away the tears that have gathered there. you preen under his ministrations—it feels a little too domestic.

he understands. it scares him, but he understands. he wonders what the point of worrying is—wonders why he's letting his paranoid brain taint this moment that he'd been waiting for. the only solution left is to ignore it. because you're here, writhing underneath him in the throes of pleasure, vulnerable and trusting and just for him. he should give you what you deserve after all.

so kaeya pushes every other thought out of his head, only focused on you and making you feel good because that's what someone like you deserves—everything you desire laid at your feet.

he presses a chaste kiss to your mouth, paired with a languid roll of his hips as he quietly groans. "okay…." his voice comes out an octave lower, pushed down by the barely concealed need for you. "okay sweet girl. i've got you."

another searing kiss as he breathes through his nose, picking up the pace again as he slams his cock into the spot that makes you see stars. your moans get louder even as they remain muffled against his lips, and kaeya can't help but dig his fingers into the meat of your thigh, leaving behind finger shaped dents in the plushy skin.

a claim—possessive, desperate, selfish.

your kisses become sloppier as kaeya leads you closer to the edge, walls clenching around the length of him, tighter with every thrust he delivers. the chants of his name have become almost reverent, and kaeya thinks his name couldn't possibly sound more beautiful than in that moment. he wonders if he could be blessed to hear it for the remainder of his life, and the thought sends pure unadulterated need through him.

his hips stutter, red hot fire coursing through his chilled veins—building, climbing, overwhelming as every sense goes fuzzy with heat. his grunts become more irregular, in time with the reckless thrusts of his cock as your cunt tightens around him greedily.

his cock twitches as you suck him in eagerly, feeling every ridge and vein as he grunts and groans and tightens his hold on you—unyielding, unrelenting, selfish.

your eyes stay locked on his even as your orgasm rips through you, and kaeya sees celestia in them—brighter than ever before. your muscles spasm, clenching almost painfully as you tremble and writhe underneath him, and he follows you to the doorstep of nirvana with a throaty groan. his hips stutter, twitching and throbbing as he pants out a broken chorus of your name and every praise that doesn't do you justice.

then he drops his forehead against yours, watching your eyelids flutter—celestial stars dim. a soft brush of your lips against his.

your muscles go lax, every guard dropped just for him—trust he realizes, trust he doesn't deserve. he doesn't know how to tell you that.

because even after everything—when you're curled up against his chest, skin warm and dewy against his own, he does not think about how he adores the feeling of your hair brushing against his arm, nor does he focus on the soft tickle of your breathing washing over him. instead he thinks about how he's ruined it all, how he's dragged you into him, and how he needs to let you go before he destroys you completely.

at the end of the summer, kaeya tells you he can’t.

“what are you talking about?” you ask him, a light chuckle escaping your lips as you barely focus on his words. your nose is buried in some medical text, and kaeya thinks that the universe is punishing him now by making him repeat himself.

“us. we shouldn’t have…” he sighs, shoulders dropping. “i mean, we should stop…seeing each other.”

he can practically feel the way his words pull your attention and when he looks up he sees the way your grip on the book has slackened. there’s panic settling in your eyes, mixed with a bit of confusion. a conflicted emotion runs across your face and kaeya’s fingers itch to touch you. “w-why?”

it’s a simple question and he should have no problem answering it, but he struggles to get the words out, his throat constricting uncomfortably. “it was fine in the summer, when i was back here with the troops. but now i’ll have to leave and-“

“so what?” you question, turning in your seat to face him completely. his eyes drop to the shirt you’re wearing, his shirt, and he feels his heart squeezing.

“so-“ he gulps, head spinning as he tries to explain himself. he doesn’t even have a proper answer—he just knows that this is his only option. because there’s no way in hell he deserves this kind of comfort, this kind of happiness. “so i cant-“

“can’t what, kaeya?” you stress, voice going slightly higher and he only then sees the real fear in your expression.

he pauses, mulling over his words and the bitter taste they’re leaving in his mouth. he can feel the sting of your pleading stare, and he swallows hard. “can’t stay,” he finally answers, and he’s shocked at how miserable he sounds.

you look at him like he’s insane, and honestly he feels like he might be. you’re confused and rightfully so, because there are so many remnants of him left in your space, so clearly evident the impact he’s left on you.

“can’t or won’t?”

kaeya’s eyes snap up to yours, because the tremor in your voice sends a jolt of fear down to his stomach, churning and roiling until it makes him sick.

he regrets looking, because he can feel himself breaking then and there.

you’re looking at him with these shining eyes and he swears that he’s glimpses them again—the brightest stars he’s ever had the privilege of seeing. for a second he thinks the light of those stars might disappear because that’s what always happens. but they remain, glowing against the backdrop of your irises and he’s captivated all over again.

his plans to leave you in tears fly out the window then and there.

he’s reaching for your cheeks in less than a second, holding them delicately as he lets his thumbs brush over your teary lashes. there’s a reasonable bit of confusion in your face at his sudden change, but when he leans down to kiss you, you don’t protest, melting into him even though he’s so undeniably cold. kaeya doesn’t even realize he’s saying he loves you, choosing to murmur it against your lips because it’s not meant for anyone else to hear—just the two of you.

he remains there, in the quiet darkness of your room for the rest of the night, because he doesn’t want to leave your side even after he told himself he would.

and yes, he dreads tomorrow. he dreads tomorrow because he knows that he will have to choose between the comfortable home he’s found in you or the dark abyss that has swallowed his past.

he’s scared that the more he allows himself to fall into you, and the more he finds that your eyes are the ones that hold the stars of celestia, then the easier his choice will become.

he’s been chasing the stars for so long after all. now that he finally has them, why in teyvat would he let them go?

#[𐐪— rheya’s writings. 𐑂] #kaeya x reader #genshin x reader #kaeya alberich #kaeya alberich x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #kaeya smut #genshin smut #kaeya fluff #kaeya x you #kaeya x y/n #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact smut #genshin impact imagines #genshin angst #kaeya angst #kaeya x fem!reader #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #[𐐪— mdni. 𐑂]