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woso-dreamzzz · 26 days

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Leaving II

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: Your Career Grand Slam

Alexia didn't leave Spain a lot.

Apart from matches, she doesn't travel much.

Her life is simple. Practice, home, watch football, sleep. Repeat.

It takes a lot to get Alexia to break her routine but she happily does it for you.

She's curled up on her sofa under a blanket, eyes staring up at her tv as she watches the tennis. She's never found it interesting. She'd never enjoyed watching it but she put that aside for you.

On days when Mami couldn't and Alba was busy, she was left with the job of trekking halfway across the city with you to take you to your lessons.

You were so young back then, practically tiny with your little pigtails and a racket that was almost double the size of your head.

Loathe as she is to admit it, going to Poland has done you some good. You were always amazing at tennis but you've gained confidence that Alexia isn't used to seeing from you.

You're working harder than you ever have before and it shows.

You'd won the Australian Open in January. A win at the French Open rounded off your June. Most recently, you had won Wimbledon by the skin of your teeth and now you were at the US Open.

Alexia could practically see the beads of sweat dripping down your face as you served again, your shoulders rising and falling as you skidded across the court to hit the ball back at your opponent.

She winces every time, unable to keep her thoughts away from what would happen if you planted your leg wrong or if you slipped. The thought of you tearing your acl too haunts her.

You don't deserve that.

You don't deserve any injuries like that, her little sister who used to cry when Alexia got bumps and bruises and made sure to kiss them all for magic healing.

You stumble a little, just managing to volley the ball back over the net.

Alexia can see the hit to your confidence it gave you before you snap out of it and get back into the zone.

This is a semifinal and she knows that you want to win.

Tennis is a little more brutal than football, Alexia thinks.

There's no team to back you up. There's no other people to help you when you make a bad hit.

It's just you and your opponent and the ball you're hitting between you.

It's when you win that the anger bubbles up in your sister. She hadn't been expecting it. Honestly, she had been screaming at her screen in celebration as you finally take the set and win your place in the final.

Her fist was pumped in the air and the next moment she wishes it was punched against this girl's nose.

You'd just finished shaking your opponent's hand, a woman nearly double your age who congratulates you warmly, when you take off to the stands.

Your coach is sitting in his box and he fists bumps you, something you do back only in passing before you're crushing a girl into a hug.

Alexia freezes, ice spreading across her body as she stares.

You're not the most physically affectionate person. You're quite touch averse despite growing up with Mami and Alba willing to lather you in affection at a moment's notice.

For years, Alexia has been the only one whose touch you enjoyed. You had always curled into her like a little kitten. She was the only one that got to touch you like that, even way back when you were only six and getting skinned knees from tennis practice.

Watching you and this random girl on her tv screen fills Alexia with anger. She doesn't know why. She knows that it's wrong but she can't help it.

For years, she's been your rock, the one you came to when you needed a hug. This random girl hasn't known you nearly long enough to be touching you with such familiarity.

It's all Alexia can think about even as she sits on the plane journey from Barcelona to New York. She can't help but stew.

Nothing looked like it had changed when you last called her from Poland, a week before you flew out for the US Open. You hadn't mentioned sharing hugs with anyone else. You hadn't mentioned using anyone else as your substitute Alexia.

You don't mention anyone now as you practically tackle her into a hug, rapid Catalan spilling from your lips like every time you speak to her.

Alexia catches the girl from the semi-finals hovering over your shoulder and she frowns, brows drawing together as she watches the girl awkwardly shift on the balls of her feet.

"Who is your friend?"

You say her name but, truthfully, Alexia couldn't care less. Her eyes focus on the way you reach for this girl and lace your fingers together tightly.

She's never seen you do that with someone else before.

"-My girlfriend and-"

"What?"

Suddenly, her mouth is dry and her head is filled with cotton. Alexia prays she misheard.

"My girlfriend, Ale," You repeat before continuing on with your story," And we were running right down the street because those old dudes kept yelling at us. It's not my fault that they couldn't understand my accent."

You and your girlfriend start giggling like you've said something funny and Alexia gets the feeling that she should have been listening to the start of your story rather than glaring daggers at this stupid girl.

She smiles though, just so you don't realise that she hasn't been listening before she laces your fingers with hers and pulls you into her side again.

"I'm so proud of you," She says, brushing back your hair softly and cupping your face.

You lean into her with a smile, eyes sliding closed for a moment as you suck up her affection.

"Are you feeling ready?" She asks," This is a final. Do you feel in the right mindset?" Alexia cuts her eyes towards your girlfriend. You're still so young and you seem to want this so bad. She doesn't want any distractions for you.

"Can you help me get ready?" You ask softly and Alexia grins.

"Of course." A kiss is laid on your forehead and Alexia is brought back to your first game when you were still very little.

It was just a few kids playing and was hardly a tournament of any kind but Alexia had treated it like one for you. She'd done your hair that morning and helped you get dressed. She'd laced up your shoes and given you your racket.

It was something you did at every final now - a superstition that you both adhered to strictly.

It was strange to do this with an audience.

The girl - your girlfriend, Alexia sneers in her mind - is at home with herself in your changing room. She's in control of the music, something that you didn't even let Alexia do.

She tries to shake it off, this interloper in your space as Alexia stands behind you and does your hair.

Gone are the days where you would have it up in two pigtails. Now it's replaced with a braid and tied back with a headband to keep flyaways out of your eyes.

"I love you," She says as she ties off your braid.

"I love you too, Ale."

She kneels down in front of you before helping you slip on your shoes, lacing them both up tightly.

"I love you," She says after each of them.

"I love you too, Ale."

She cups your face and looks into your eyes.

"You're so talented," She says to you," You deserve this so much. You go out there and you try your very best, okay? It's just you on the court."

"Yes, Ale."

Her lips brush against your forehead and she teasingly tugs on your braid, laughing at the way your cheeks puff up just like when she used to do it to your pigtails.

You stand and grab your bag.

Alexia expects you to walk straight out onto the court but you stop in front of your girlfriend instead.

Your foreheads are pressed together and her hands are on your waist. You're whispering to each other. It's not the familiar Catalan that Alexia is so used to hearing from you but Polish instead.

It sounds strange in her ears as you murmur to this interloper, your lips brushing hers every so often before she pats your side and sends you on your way.

Alexia tries to avoid her as much as possible, quietly distraught that she has ruined the superstition that had won you so many finals before. This is your last big hurdle of the year, Alexia doesn't want to see you lose.

Somehow, though, Alexia ends up wedged between her Mami and this interloper. It would have been easier if she was between your girlfriend and Alba because any snide comment she made wouldn't be picked up but Mami had always been able to concentrate on watching you play tennis and lecture her other two daughters at the same time.

It was a scary talent which was why Alexia kept her mouth firmly shut.

She pretended this girl didn't even exist, this girl that had clearly taken advantage of the fact that you had no Alexia affection in Poland and latched onto you like a parasite.

Alexia plays her no mind, silently cursing her in her head as she watches you step onto the court.

This woman is older than you by at least ten years, maybe more but you hold up against her well, trading hits across the net.

The first set is perhaps the longest one that Alexia has ever sat through and it's enough to have everyone sitting up straight in awe.

Even Alexia, who will admit she knows next to nothing about tennis, will admit that it's clear both you and your opponent are giving it your all but, ultimately, you come out on top in the first set.

You look exhausted though as you take your break, wiping the sweat off your face and practically caning your water bottle when Alexia knows you should sip.

Your shoulders rise and fall and Alexia knows that you're fatiguing.

She knows that it's because of this killer first set and the blazing of the sun on your back but she blames your girlfriend.

If she hadn't interrupted your usual pre-game routine than none of this would have ever happened.

This idea is only solidified in your sisters mind when you drop the second set.

You look frustrated as you hydrate again, knee bouncing.

The women only go to best of three and you and your opponent are tired. There can only be one winner and, with the way that you're fatiguing, Alexia puts all the blame on your girlfriend.

Your girlfriend who you've turned to look at with a little furrow in your brow. Your girlfriend who's smiling at you with an encouraging nod and a thumbs up that makes you produce the dopiest smile Alexia has ever seen.

You don't even look at her or Alba or Mami, just your girlfriend as you make your way back onto the court, bouncing up and down to ready yourself.

Alexia has no idea where all this energy has suddenly come from but you return the ball with vicious intensity that catches everyone off guard.

It's beautiful to watch, even more beautiful when she realises that you haven't conceded a point at all.

It's a beautiful moment as you fall onto your back when the umpire proclaims the match won.

You just lay there, arms splayed out on the court as your chest rises and falls in a pant. You've abandoned your racket next to you even as the box and crowd erupt into cheers.

You're crying, Alexia notices when you sit up and finally pull yourself to your feet, leaning over the net to shake your opponent's hand.

Tears streak down your face and you keep trying to wipe them away but more come. You make your way over to the box, reaching up to lace your fingers with your girlfriend's.

She's saying something to you, screaming really over the crowd but Alexia can't understand what she's saying.

You can though because a bubble of laughter forces its way through your tears and you nod.

Your other hand reaches up for Alexia's and she grabs it instantly, squeezing it like she did when you were little and just won your first game.

"Ale!" You say," I won!"

"Si, hermanita," She says," You did. I'm so proud of you."

"Go get your trophy," You girlfriend says with a beaming smile," We can put it next to all your others."

You look at her now and drop your sister's hand.

Alexia finds that she doesn't mind as much as your girlfriend leans down from the box and fists the front of your shirt, pulling you in for a kiss.

Though, she could have done without a front row seat to that.

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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archonsabyss · 3 months

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╰─..✶. [ Desire for Simplicity ]

❒ pairing: al haitham x fem!reader

❒ genre: domestic! slice of life w minor angst w comfort? smut [nsfw 18+]

❒ warnings: fingering! vaginal sex ! teasing! biting! hickies! desk fucking! unprotected sex! nudity! showering together! aftercare!

❒ word count: 5.5k

─❒ authors note: guess who's finally clearing out her drafts🙄 couldn't possibly be me. but also I'm like superly- giddily proud of this one heh especially towards the end. i'm finally trying to work on my smut skills too so there's that. truly envy and appreciate all those smut writers ✨

For a man averse to exceeding his expected workload, you were certain the corridors of the Akademiya saw your lover more often than the walls of your home did, and initially, you were fine with it considering you understood that was the duties and responsibilities of his work, acknowledging that life demanded such commitments, but as the days unfolded it became increasingly challenging to suppress your missing of his presence.

The bed felt cold when you drifted off to sleep, with only a fleeting warmth lingering in the morning. Al Haitham would often slip into bed during the late hours of the night to lie with you. He'd hold you close against his chest before having to rise and depart for work once again, and on both occasions you seldom seized the opportunity to greet him, always succumbing to sleep. Even breakfast passed in unusual silence, accompanied only by the chirping of birds outside. Then came lunch, where boredom crept in and led you to experiment and explore the making of dishes from a diversity of cultures to fill the void of passing time, and when evening descended, you dedicated yourself to catching up on work and completing your studies as those were the designated hours of the day you set out for it.

There were times when making dinner seemed futile as you were home alone more often than not, and with your lack of appetite and constantly visiting laziness, one could argue that dinner was unnecessary when there were leftovers from lunch. Nonetheless, without fail, you ensured that a plate of food awaited Al Haitham in the fridge upon his return every day. If not for the little note left behind on your bedside table expressing his gratitude for the meal, and the empty dish drying on the rack, you would have been left uncertain about whether he had eaten or not, and that would make for a continuous worry.

With every day that passed and you encountered him less frequently despite living together, you held onto the hope that these busy days would soon die down and he'd return home in the afternoon with a subtle smirk playing on his lips as he assured you of his newfound availability.

You were convinced that Al Haitham also felt the absence of your presence, evident in the increasing number of notes he left behind and the bouquet of flowers sent every other week. Additionally, his unrefuted companion Kaveh had begrudgingly visited regularly at Al Haitham's insistence to provide you with company. Though Kaveh expressed annoyance at feeling like a servant at Al Haitham's beck and call, what he wouldn't admit was that he understood and perhaps even felt a hint of sympathy for the man. Moreover, if it were up to him, he would do anything for you, keep you company if you could stomach his endless ranting. Kaveh just simply disliked that Al Haitham had to be the one making the request, making his visits feel like fulfilling the latter's directives.

As the middle of the second month in this monotonous routine approached, you found yourself running out of ways to stay occupied. Work and studies were up to date, projects were completed in advance, and you actively sought hands-on experience through practicals. Life had indeed slowed down, and while grateful for the break, one unsettling aspect remained – your partner did not share the same sentiment.

One afternoon, after a day spent in the forest with Tighnari, you returned home with a content smile, anticipating a relaxing bath and the rest of the day unwinding. However, upon entering the house a sense of unease gripped you. As you surveyed the living room for clues, the puzzle started to unravel when you approached the bedroom nearing Al Haitham's home office positioned just before it.

The closer you got the more the distinct sound of papers being crunched and flipped caught your attention, prompting you to peek through the door and witness the unexpected sight of your formally absent lover home earlier than you expected. He was immersed in a sea of papers at his desk, focused intently until your call reached him, the evident smile in your voice. His gaze lifted and you found yourself captivated by the glow of his green eyes, encircled by a subtle twinkle of orange, radiating with a touch of ecstasy.

"You're home" You exclaimed, a broad smile impossible to restrain making its way onto your lips.

"Indeed, I am," He replied, a hint of guilt evident in his dismissal. His tone lowered, and signs of stress appeared in his body language, yet it all seemed to diminish as soon as you entered.

Pushing his seat back and setting aside his papers, he motioned for you to come closer.

He grasps your hand, guiding you to sit on his lap.

As you settle comfortably on his lap, Al Haitham immediately nestles his face into the area between your ear and shoulder, and he breathes in your scent fulfilling a long-desired longing.

A deep sigh of contentment escapes him as it envelops his senses.

"How long have you been home?"

"A couple of hours. I was hoping to catch you, but I didn't know you'd be out," He murmurs, his head resting on your shoulder.

"Yeah, Nari invited me for brunch. He needed assistance gathering some herbs and brewing remedies. Figured it would be nice to step out and dust off my skills, they were getting a bit rusty."

"They see you more frequently than I do lately," Al Haitham remarks wearily, planting kisses on the same spot on your neck.

"Can't be helped, my love," You replied, running your fingers through his hair.

"This is precisely why I declined the position of grand sage from the beginning. I was content with how my life was; comfortable, and with ample time to spend with you."

You couldn't argue with his perspective; you empathized with the burdens on his shoulders. Feeling the tension beneath your fingertips as you massaged his knots, you understood his stress. Al Haitham's arms enveloped you, his body gradually relaxing under your touch, indicating that it was effective.

"Are you alright?" You asked softly, concern evident on your face as you noticed his eyebrows furrow in response to the pressure applied to relieve the knots in his tense muscles.

"I'm fine, princess." Or at least, I will be

However, he wasn't. In the context of missing you, he was far from fine. Previously, he couldn't have imagined what people sought in relationships. While he grasped the concept of loneliness and the desire for companionship, recognizing physical touch as a form of expression, his understanding was largely confined to the knowledge recorded in countless scripts. Though remarkably clever, his emotional aloofness became apparent when he entered a relationship with you.

He came to realize that the everyday acts of service he had carried out throughout his life held more significance than he had initially envisioned.

How could a simple gesture like holding a door open for you, elicit such a appreciative smile?

What did it signify that the unspoken deeds he performed, seeking no recognition, held weight in portraying him as a decent and well-mannered individual?

He had done these things without much thought. However, you made him realize that these acts were integral in fulfilling human desires for care, love, attention, and affection.

But it makes sense, he thought to himself, 'no wonder he received admiring glances when he held the door open to the Cafe for a girl and what he presumed to be her friends'.

This is what human desires encompassed— their hunger for power and attention, their seeking of approval and validation, and their longing for love and affection.

Through you and the bond you forged with him, Al Haitham slowly started comprehending human concepts, as if he weren't a mortal made of flesh and bone just like them. He gained a better understanding of love and the yearning for emotional connection, realizing that these were things he desperately needed after weeks consumed by work. So, he embraced you, holding you tightly against him. At that moment, he thought to himself, finally, you were within his grasp, compelling him to relax and savour the present.

His hands moulded to the curves of your hips as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss, maintaining a steady pressure that kept you securely in place against him.

"Can I get a kiss?" You inquired with a smile, growing more empathetic as you observed him letting go of tension and in response, Al Haitham lifted his head from your shoulder, tilting it slightly to allow you to take the initiative and claim what you asked for.

His gaze locked onto yours, time standing still as he anticipated the gradual descent of your lips; and when they finally met, he couldn't help but release a contented moan, sinking deeper into the chair while pulling you closer in a tight embrace.

"Have you eaten yet?" You asked after you pulled away.

"No, but I could work up an appetite if you'll let me" He suggests with a lazy smirk, subtly adjusting beneath you, letting you feel the tension building and restraining against his pants.

It's not like you were going to deny him considering it's been a while since you've had him present, needy, and all to yourself, but your worry for his well-being took priority, especially upon noticing the dark circles beneath his calculating eyes and the paleness of his skin. Your fingers danced across his cheeks; observing the features of his face that you feared were slipping from memory and traced over them with precise attention, swallowing harshly when you felt the hardness of his erection momentarily distract you from what was meant to be your sweet moment.

Al Haitham was slowly losing his control under the weight of your attention whether he wanted to or not, but it was happening regardless.

"Yes, no? I'm going to need a verbal answer from you, baby" The playful tone in his voice snaps you out of your trance-like gaze and you blink several times before looking down at him.

You nod, a hint of shyness showing— it's been a while, and if your urgency wasn't clear in your eyes it certainly was in the way you were clenching.

Al Haitham lifted himself from the chair, cradling you in his arms. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist and he placed his hand beneath you for added support. He positions you on his desk, paying no mind to the papers scattered across the oak surface. His obligations to his reports are completely forgotten as your arms wrap around his neck and pull him down to meet you halfway. Your pupils dilate with desire when he sweetly captures your mouth in heart fluttering kiss.

"Answer, need an answer..." He reminds you firmly, pulling back only enough for you to reply. He's unwilling to proceed without your clear consent and you have to admit it only turns you on even more. The way his fingers tap against your thigh with an itch to insert themselves within you; the way his eyes fixed unwaveringly on yours, masking the struggle to restrain; and the way he attempts to quiet his breaths knowing you saw right through it.

With a sly expression, you purse your lips and shift your gaze to focus on his hips.

"I'm not trying to-"

Al Haitham exhales, resting his hands on the desk on each side of your legs and tilting his face to align with yours.

“You’re in no position to tease baby" He says, swiftly gliding one hand along your thigh until the warmth of his touch cups your colds through your pants eliciting a sharp inhale from you as your eyes meet his gaze.

"Fair enough" He cuts you off sharply, "If you want to play, I'll play" He steps back and your eyes widen at the abrupt separation and departure of his warmth. Al Haitham brushes a hand through his hair and it leaves you shaken at the sight that remains— a tousled mess of grey hair falling haphazardly over his eyes that reconnect with yours in an instant.

"You're adding to my workload," He chuckles, "And here I thought showing up early would grant me unfettered access without a formal request"

"I didn't say a word," You find yourself compelled to defend, your lower lip on the verge of protruding in a pout.

"Exactly, sweetheart. You haven't said anything yet" With a teasing smile, he tilts his head and flicks your forehead. "And what's with the shyness? Can't bring yourself to say you want me? Or has my absence dulled your attraction to me?"

"Get back on your high horse, will you" You snort, seizing his hand and yanking him back firmly between your legs. "You know that's impossible! Rather, your absence has made me realize just how incredibly attracted to you I am. I've missed you"

"Oh really, has your pussy missed me too?"

"Al Haitham..."

"Don't Al Haitham me. If it weren't for this sudden shyness, my fingers would be buried in you right now."

"No one's stopping you"

"You're not giving me permission" He insists, "Need you to use your words and that pretty mouth of yours to say you want me to fuck you"

You do want to say them but they can't find their way out of your mouth.

Al Haitham, a patient man, traces your neckline with soft almost imperceptible kisses, giving you the time and space to gather the courage to confess the words both he and you needed for release. "It's just a few simple words" He mutters, kissing your jaw with a recurring motion until it reddens. When he's satisfied, he shifts to another spot and repeats the process. He's aware it pulls you deeper into a haze of desire, but, above all, he understands it instils a bit more confidence into your soul. Al Haitham has taken note that in his absence, the efforts he invested in boosting your confidence and boldness with him seem to have gradually faded, and now, he's once again determined to restore them, just as he did before.

His thumb lingers on the pulse of your neck, his kisses never ceasing as he leaves behind a mark of his missing for you with his lips. But when a needy whimper slips from you, he stops, a fox-like smirk appearing.

"Al Haitham," Your gentle voice whispers. "Please"

"Almost there" He encourages, "Use your words"

You comply, your knees trembling and your heart sinking as the ache pulsates painfully between your legs. "I want you"

You want him like you've never wanted him before, and the profound satisfaction that envelopes him is inexplicable as his eyes darken with the emergence of his lust washing over him like a tidal wave. Without warning, he tugs you closer to the edge of the desk and drives his tongue into your mouth whilst his fingers slip past the waistband of your pants, ushering both that and your panties down in one swift motion.

There's no time to wait, not an ounce of restraint left in him. He has you and he has your permission and he sees nothing but fucking you right in his mind.

It is but a single finger that teases your entrance, tracing the contours before gradually slipping in entirely drawing forth a gasp as another is added. His fingers begin to work at your clit expertly and your cunt clenches pathetically at the feeling. Al Haitham lowers your back onto his desk, causing papers to crumple and scatter but he could care less. Right now it's you, and only you.

The noises that escape your throat are embarrassingly guttural but you couldn't care less when the pleasure is so intensely gratifying that it transports you to blissful heights. You spread your legs further for him and he's satisfied with your actions enough to add a third finger.

"Missed this" He mumbles with furrowed brows, deeply concentrated, savouring the way your legs tremble because of him. "I've been neglecting you, haven't I?"

You struggle to discern his words as your body instinctively rises from the desk, responding to the touch of his finger as it finds your clit and gently presses against the pulsating, hardened bud.

"Rarely get to see you when I return home. And this damned job has me leaving for work before I can hold you and kiss you goodbye in the mornings"He exhales deeply, his breaths heavy, frustration evident in the movement of his fingers within your core, creating a wet, loud, and lewd squelching sound.

"Al Haitham!!" You gasped loudly as you cum hard, a screech echoing as your arms wrap around his shoulders seeking support. Your nails dig into his shoulder with a sensation that is palpable even beneath his shirt and the leg you have draped around his waist stiffens. His hand cradles your thigh, keeping you close as you descend from your initial climax. Cupping the side of your face with his clean hand, he leans down, pressing a kiss to your fatigued, parted lips.

Al Haitham withdraws his fingers from your core, maintaining eye contact with your lidded eyes as he brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean.

"Is your back okay?" He asks attentively, helping you to sit up. "Do you want to move to the bedroom?"

"Please, if that's okay with you" You mumbled with a weak smile, the remainder of pleasure coursing through your veins like a potent drug rendering your sanity momentarily lost. Al Haitham acknowledges with a nod and lifts you off the desk bridal style, kicking his chair aside before carrying you towards your bedroom with ease and your head drops, finding a resting place against his chest, listening to the irregular beat of his heart.

"I really missed you"

Al Haitham glances down at you with a smile, "I've missed you more" He gently places you on the mattress, and you audibly moan at the softness beneath you, appreciating the slight cold chill of the blankets compared to the hard wooden desk in his office.

"Keep moaning like that and you'll find yourself unable to walk for the rest of the week"

"No objections" You yawned, "but you've been gone long enough Haitham, and I just had a longed awaited and deserved orgasm on a hard as fuck desk, let me moan over the softness of our bed in peace"

"Moan for me then" He says your name in such a seductive manner you feel inclined to close your exposed legs but of course he's not having any of it as he forces them back open with his hand.

Without breaking eye contact, Al Haitham proceeds to toy with the ends of his shirt before deftly pulling it over his head, tossing it aside, and revealing the sight of clenched muscles that ripple along the expanse of his abdomen. Once more, it seems like an eternity since you've witnessed him in this way, and you can't resist seizing the opportunity to revel in the view. Both of your hands rest on his shoulders, gliding down his arms to explore the well-defined bulge of his biceps. Al Haitham deems it's your turn next and starts to unbutton your shirt. Buttons pop one by one until only your bra remains.

Wrapping his other arm around you, he yanks your body against his and crashes his lips onto yours. His hands roamed all over your body with vitality until they lastly gripped onto your hips.

"This has to go" He smirks, playfully pulling at your bra, and as you lean up, he swiftly unclasps it and flings it onto the floor.

As he crawls over you, his eyes lock onto your breasts and with a sudden force he snakes your hips to pull you against his erection, and you moan at the pressure it applies. "You're taking too long" You sighed, fanning your cheeks to cool down as sweat accumulated on your forehead. No further words were necessary as he discarded his pants and swiftly positioned himself at your entrance. Upon your request to hurry things along, he mumbled something almost inaudible before thrusting his entire length into your cunt, and you're singing his praises and calling his name as tears well in your eyes, the sting of taking him whole without easing into it lingering as he buries himself between your walls.

The pleasure derived from his movements overwhelms you, they compel your hand to grasp the back of his head, fingers tangling into his hair to provide a sense of grounding while the other clutches the sheets unyielding. Your body arches in reaction, your pelvis raising to meet his every thrust.

A sharp, almost pained breath echoed from him as he closed his eyes to savour the feeling. "Fuck" He curses aloud, a moan amplifying as he hums with pleasure at your tightness and you tremble against him. you hadn't anticipated the need to readjust to having him, and without a gradual entry, you were even more astonished by the sudden sense of fullness.

Al Haitham angles his hips to perfectly reach your pleasure point, dragging the head of his cock over your g-spot. He rolls his cock all the way and pounds your cervix without mercy.

"I can't"

"Al Haitham," You exclaim amidst a mix of moans and groans as your head throws back against the pillows.

"Slow down, please"

It's a miracle the words emerge comprehensible but your beloved partner is unabashed, accelerating the pace and panting as he pursues euphoria.

"Yes, you can" He pants, eyes pinching together as you clench down on him hard. He shoves your hips down onto the mattress and thrusts into you relentlessly. With each press of his body against yours, your moans grow louder and you squirm in an attempt to evade the fevor in each of his movements, wanting a moment to catch your breath, but he persists and pushes in and out repetitively, his pace and sense of rhythm reinforcing after every stride.

"Can't hold on-" He grunts, his eyes rolling back.

His muscles are taut, and his biceps bulging as he looms above you. "Want me to pull out?" He feels compelled to ask despite having trouble breathing and feeling as though he might collapse.

Tears fill your eyes and run down your face as you urgently shake your head. "In me" You plead, "In me, please. Missed you enough, Haitham.." He clenches his teeth, responding to your pleas with thrusts – once, twice, a third time – and on the fourth thrust, he releases, his climax flowing into you. Your orgasm follows seconds later with a wild cry, and your cum gushes out more and more, blending with his, like the exchanged saliva and mingled sweat. Together, with a gasp your bodies cave. “Breathe baby, breathe. I’m right here.” He coaxed as your arousal seeped out and coated his balls, some escaping the embrace and staining the bed sheets.

You slump against the bed, your thighs weary and pleading for reprieve. Al Haitham reluctantly withdraws from you, forced to do so when his arms threaten to surrender, and so to avoid the risk of crushing you he slips out with a grumble and collapses flat on the bed beside you.

"That felt good" He exhales in relief, arm resting behind his head as he looks at the ceiling and you agree. Your chest rises and falls, marked by the aftermath of two orgasms and the happiness of having him with you at this moment. You tilt your head to the side and Al Haitham does the same to meet your gaze, you exchange a smile and extend your hand for him to hold. He clasps your hand in his and brings it to his lips, planting a kiss on your knuckles.

The moment is sweeteningly blissful and would have remained that way for a while longer had the rumble of his stomach not shaken the room causing you to stifle a laugh as he glares at you playfully.

"Hungry?"

"No"

"You sure?" You giggled, lifting yourself into a seated position with difficulty.

"No" He shifts onto his side, propping himself up on his forearm as he gazes at you.

"Well─ I didn't cook today because I was out, assuming you wouldn't be home, but I can—"

"But nothing," He interrupts with a languid smile, "I can cook tonight. All I ask of you is your undivided attention, that okay?"

You hesitate to agree, and Al Haitham understands your silence well enough to recognize your contemplation. Your reluctance arises from your fondness for tending to him, especially as it has been a while since you shared a meal. But as you think a little more, you begin to feel a numbing sensation creeping up your leg making you realize you're probably not in the best condition to safely enter the kitchen. Thus, you give in and let him have his way, at least for tonight.

Your sigh and hesitant nod signal you're finally complying. "Good girl. Let's get you cleaned up first" Al Haitham praises as he propels himself onto his elbows to gently peck your lips before rising from the bed. Scooping you into his arms once more, he plants yet another kiss on your forehead this time and continues to carry you to the bathroom, eager to lavish you with all his attention to compensate for the time he's missed.

Al Haitham settles you back onto your feet once in the bathroom with a hand on your lower back for support. Once you assure him you can manage to stand for a few minutes on your own, he instructs you to pee while he fetches a fresh pair of towels for both of you and makes a second trip after that to fetch the dirty sheets and shove them into the laundry basket to have cleaned tomorrow.

"You holding up?" He asked amidst the droning sound of the flushed chain, his voice nearly drowned out entirely but fortunately you caught it and hummed cheerfully, "Better than ever. And you?" He makes his way to you and you loop your arms around his neck as he effortlessly lifts you off the basin countertop. Together─ in his arms, you step into the perfectly heated shower.

"Perfect" He admits with an oddly loud contented sigh, gently lathering your body with a mesh body scrub that moves in circular motions around your breasts, over your stomach, along your back, and down and between your legs, combined with the warmth of the water and the evaporating steam, you notice your congested nose gradually clearing and your tense, aching muscles starting to relax. He is constantly mindful of the pressure he applies while cleaning your body, aware of its sensitivity and you're grateful for such an attentive partner as it only motivates you to reciprocate with even more care for him.

The process of cleansing each other unfolds in tranquillity, the soothing white noise of water pattering from the shower head calming your senses. Al Haitham washes your body, and then you return the favour, repeating the same with your hair until you both finish and then takes the towel and wraps it around your body first before tying another around his lower half. This time, instead of carrying you, you insist on walking as the discomfort between your legs has lessened enough after the shower, making it feel less like they might give in at any given moment.

Al Haitham is amused by your stubbornness and plays along, his hand falling onto your waist as he guides you to sit on the edge of the bed.

"It's a bit hot" He mutters to himself, sliding your panties up your legs as you hold onto his bare shoulder. "I wasn't sure if you wanted to wear pants to bed or not, so I didn't take any out."

"It's okay, Haitham," You chuckle, picking up on his attention to even the smallest details.

"Your shirt will suffice," You slip your arms through the holes of the sleep shirt he laid out for you, noting that it was specifically his.

"If you don't mind me asking, what exactly has been keeping you so occupied at the Akademiya?"

Once you're mostly taken care of, Al Haitham crosses the room to rummage through his drawers for a pair of pants, throwing them on before searching through another set for a golden tub of ointment to soothe the scratches adorning his back from your hands.

He practically skips back to you with a towel in hand, "Haven't done your hair yet, but could you dry mine for me first so I can start on dinner?"

It's adorable how his eagerness doesn't show on his face, but in the way he doesn't exactly wait for a reply, shifting you upper onto the bed and settling between your legs.

"You tend to forget that this is the typical nature of most humans, Dear" You smile with amusement, noting the hint of irritation when he looks at you with an expression that distinctly conveys 'I know, but still', as he rises from the floor and flops onto the bed ready for you to apply the ointment to the faint red marks that were slowly deepening in color.

"Well- there was an unexpected disagreement among a group of scholars which caused a stir at the Akademiya. People, being naturally nosy were easily drawn away from their duties for some time and inevitably I was dragged in as the situation demanded 'careful mediation', as they put it, even though I was inclined to simply ignore it and exit the room leaving them to hash out their differences" He emphasized with an undertone of annoyance, and while he converses, you attentively listen, simultaneously twisting the towel around his hair and gently dabbing and squeezing until most of the water is absorbed.

"Pray tell, what purpose lies in dragging out a trivial dispute for weeks on end and then taking an additional week to resolve it? Does it truly bring any advantages? If anything, it has significantly set me back in handling a majority of reports and applications."

"It's not particularly new or surprising considering that our entire existence is moulded by our emotions, including— perhaps mostly—the negative aspects. Our love for dramatics and our inclination to involve ourselves in other's affairs. Living a simplistic life is not hard at all but shedding these negative aspects and common flaws are where the challenge lies. Consequently, we often end up causing a disturbance for everyone involved" Your words are laced with experience from observations made over the years of dealing with people.

"Either way, I despise it" He grumbled, burying his face into the clean sheets while your fingers glide smoothly over your handiwork. "Don't want to talk anymore about work"

His irritation is so endearing that you can't resist running your hands through his hair and giving him a soothing scalp massage.

"You're home for now," You said, "Focus just on that, mhm?"

"Yeah... Shit... Forgot about dinner" He mutters, suddenly recollecting, and then he pushes himself up to leave the bed.

"Haitham..." He glances at you through the corner of his eyes and your arms are open waiting for his embrace. He abandons his objective of leaving the room to cook and walks into your embrace.

You know because he wasn't home much he wanted to do the cooking and look after you for a change, but seeing the sudden decline in his mood, you refused to leave him to fall into the shell of which his burdens threatened to crush.

"We can prepare dinner together, and then tomorrow, you're going to stay home and take a proper rest."

He doesn't protest. There are no inquiries or remarks about how the Akademiya requires him urgently, especially with the impending entrance exams for new applicants, or the fact that they are mere weeks away from hosting an exposition at newly discovered ruins – a questionable idea in his opinion. Allowing the locals to be present around the sacred remnants of the old didn't sit well with him, but with the majority in favour, Al Haitham felt compelled to let them proceed. Instead, your beloved nods, burying his head into your shoulder, expressing his gratitude for your existence, your love, and your constant unwavering care.

It may no longer be the simplistic life he desires, but maybe this life, with all its challenges and complexities, isn't entirely unfavourable when he always has you behind him, beside him, and waiting for him.

☣ copyright @archonsabyss all rights reserved // do not copy; steal; plagiarize; reword or repost my works to any other platform! No translations!! All credits to original owners of characters/anime/pictures that are not my own!

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scudslut · 15 days

Text

too sweet

daryl x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, mdni

a/n: okay, is this like the song? IDK i listened to it on repeat tryna decipher shit and come up with a good plot but i think i got a little lost in the sauce, or maybe im just being mean to myself🫢 ANYWAY I HOPE YOU LIKE IT ANON BYEEE🤍

you two never got along, never saw eye to eye.

years you’d known each other and all it ever did was reveal those differences all the more. highlighting them in bold letters for you to gaze at thoughtfully, but did that stop you?

it was a game you played, back and forth for so long that it became a routine. bicker and disagree till you were blue in the face and at each other's mercy for only the moon to bear witness too.

how many times had you dug into him for his habits. he smoked, kept to himself, he fought, but where had that ever gotten him? it was against your nature. a way of being that you genuinely could not understand.

and he’d be right there with you, matching each dig with his own. you were sweet, too soft. you pleased and walked among ice like you weighed as much as a feather, so predictable it was almost humorous. if you didn’t understand him, he was absolutely riddled by you.

“how do ya sleep at night? huh? don’ya ever get tired of keeping everyone so fuckin happy?” he’d mutter, all the while tearing articles of clothing off of your supple skin, one by one. skin that was pristine by default and worn as if only heaven itself had touched it.

“believe it or not, i actually want people to like me daryl. i like when i can make people happy. it’s not a fucking act,” you sneer back.

who was he to talk? he lived inside his own head. could go days… no, months by himself, not muttering a single word to a breathing soul. and you’d tried to reason, guide, and help, but if anyone knew daryl dixon, they knew he didn’t budge easily. he had to want it for himself and he simply didn’t see the glory in your people-pleasing nature, as he’d like to call it.

sure he saw the value in it, somewhat. but he liked things the way they were, as they were meant to be. if he disagreed with something he sure as shit wasn’t gonna prance around trying not to hurt no feelings.

“alright, you keep tellin’ yerself that, princess.”

so what was it that kept you two coming back for more? why was the tension and aversion between your minds so magnetic between your bodies? he wanted to snap those annoying, pretty lips shut with his. maybe if he kissed you hard enough something would click in that head of yours. maybe he could fuck some clarity into you.

his fingers would rub fast circles over your clit, watching you keen and moan into the pillow beneath you, “how’s that princess? good enough for ya? hm?” he’d mock, “faster? slower?”

“god, would you shut up already?” you tried to sneer only for it to come out as a breathy whine, adding fuel to his pride and smirk across his face. your lips crashed into his in an attempt to diminish it but it was right there, now pressed up against your face, and fuck, why was that so hot? why was his rugged stubble, his long hair kissing your shoulders, and his broad, strong body so infuriatingly sexy to you? muscles built from years of fights, kills, and hunting. you didn’t like it… but you did.

“fuck, i’m gonna-“ you cried to him softy.

“nuh, uh. not yet pretty girl.”

his belt was loud throughout the quiet room. your eyes were squeezed shut in pleasure but you heard the familiar clanks and zips, and then you felt his weight above you — warm and spicy. it pulled you so far and close that you sucked him in before he even got his pants all the way off.

“fuckin’ christ girl,” he groaned, snapping down to meet your hips flush. it was rapid and hot, both of you pouring all your frustrations into each push and pull. frustrations with each other, frustrations with yourselves that you liked this so fucking much.

he fucked you deep and hard like his body hated you, but somehow kissed you so tenderly through it all. his tongue massaging and tangling with yours as if you created his oxygen for him.

“so fucking sweet, princess, y’know that?” he whispered against you, “no good fer me.”

he was telling himself that; convincing himself and you knew it. your body rolled to meet his quickly, feeling every gooey, warm muscle against your skin and drooling over it, “more.”

as if to prove a point he slowed down, pulling out till just his tip was caught at your entrance, and then would thrust in, hard. over, and over, and over until you were singing his name and muffling it with his neck. warm and spicy.

“ya like that? thought ya wanted faster?”

he knew he was walking a line, but what had you guys ever been but a definitive line? a clear distinction of night and day, the only time ever seeing eye to eye being these moments. as one.

you were sent over the edge instantly, spasms of pleasure rolling languidly through your body. the tight swelling of your cunt causing daryl to finish with you and fuck if he didn’t cum the prettiest, sexiest way you had ever seen. straight out of your dirty, teenage fantasies and above you to soak in while you wreathed along with him.

he groaned and cursed into your chest, riding out each wave until he was shaking above you and so sensitive he couldn’t help but hiss as he pulled away, flopping down beside you.

a cigarette was quickly fished from his strewn jeans pockets and placed between his lips, lighting up and rolling back into the pillows lazily. every ounce of mending and merging you had just done was palpably tossed out the window, your scoff loudly filling the silence.

“that will kill you one day, hope you know that,” you muttered whilst gathering your clothes and slipping them on.

he didn’t bat an eye, nothing he hadn’t heard before from you and honestly, he didn’t really care. plenty of things in the world that’ll kill you, your naivety being one of them.

“lemme guess, gotta be up bright n’ early? tendin’ ta all yer charity cases?” he mused as he watched you head for the door. there had never been a night you’d spent together, probably would end up ripping each others faces off alone in room together for that long.

he didn’t get an answer, just an amused eye roll as you opened his bedroom door, “bye daryl.”

and then you were gone, quiet stomps heard as you floated up the stairs and he knew it would only be a matter of days before you were right back here, glued to his body and singing his name like you needed him to survive.

“figures,” he mumbled, taking a long drag from his smoke and smirking softly to himself.

what’s that saying? opposites always attract?

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lendeah · 3 months

Text

Happy Memories

Also on AO3

Summary: Based on this line from the epilogue- One night he tells you that these six months of happy memories are the counterweight to two hundred years of misery.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader.

Word Count: 2.8k

Tags: Fluff and Smut, 6 months post-finale, Lovemaking, Domestic Fluff, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Love Confessions, it's so soft really, Soft Astarion, they have just been through so much, Tooth-Rotting Fluff.

WARNING: +18, minors DNI

The past few months had been a trying time, both of you struggling to come to terms with the events that had transpired. The weight of it all hung heavy in the air, leaving you to navigate through nightmares and Astarion's bouts of dissociation. Yet, somehow, you were making progress. Together.

You had taken it upon yourself to find a cure for Astarion's condition, a challenging task made even more difficult by his returned aversion to sunlight. But it gave you both a purpose, something to look forward to - a brighter tomorrow. The greatest source of joy in your present life was the simple act of lying down next to him every night, enveloped in each other's arms with the comforting knowledge that tomorrow you would once again wake up without the constant fear of losing him.

Together, you had found solace in a serene cottage by Riverbend, settling into a comfortable routine. You delighted in gardening and cooking, while he took care of household chores and lovingly mended and sewed your clothes. On lazy afternoons, you would paint alongside him as he engrossed himself in endless books. It was pure bliss, and you were content with your perfectly imperfect life together.

As the two of you prepared for bed, Astarion wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. In the past, such an intimate gesture would have caught you off guard, but he has since learned to let his guard down and embrace moments of tenderness. Though he still struggles at times, he relishes in this display of affection.

"Everything alright, my love?" you asked, resting your head against his.

Astarion's arms tightened around you as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. "Alright would be an understatement," he murmured, his voice low and warm against your skin. "I am absolutely enchanted, my dear."

You turned around in his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I'm glad to hear that, because I am enchanted too," you said softly.

Astarion leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a delicate kiss. You hummed against his mouth, savoring the familiar feeling of his soft lips moving against yours. He pulled back slightly, forehead resting against yours as he whispered, "I have something I want to show you."

Curiosity sparked within you, but you simply nodded and followed him as he led you outside. The moon was high in the sky, casting its soft glow over everything. Astarion took your hand and led you toward the nearby meadow. And that's when you see it: he has prepared the scenery around to look like the one from the first night you shared together, back at the Grove.

"What is this?" You say, with a huge grin decorating your face.

Astarion's crimson eyes shone with excitement as he turned to you. "This, my love, is a recreation of the night we first shared at the Grove," he said proudly.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you took in the scene before you. The soft grass beneath your feet, the gentle rustling of trees in the distance, and a small basket filled with wine and various snacks, right next to a small blanket.

"I thought we could relive that enchanted evening, but this time we'll make it truly unforgettable." His fingers caressed your cheek, gently wiping away a stray tear, as he added with a cheeky smile, "Because let's be honest, the first time was... underwhelming."

You smiled at him, grateful beyond words for his thoughtfulness. "Thank you, my love, this is incredible," you said, your voice thick with emotion.

Astarion's smile widened and he pulled you into a tight embrace. "Anything for you," he whispered into your ear.

You stayed wrapped in each other's arms for a while, just enjoying the peacefulness of the moment. Eventually, Astarion led you over to the basket and poured some wine for both of you. As the night went on, the two of you talked and laughed, reminiscing about your early days together and all the adventures you had been on since then. And with each passing moment, it felt as if the world had paused just for the two of you, as if all the events of the previous months were leading up to this one perfect moment.

As midnight approached, Astarion stood and held out his hand. "Shall we dance under the moonlight?" he asked with a playful glint in his eyes.

You raised a teasing eyebrow, "Has the spirit of Wyll possessed you?"

Astarion chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, my dear, you wound me! I assure you, this idea is entirely my own. Besides, who needs Wyll's spirit when I have enough charisma to ignite the heavens themselves?" He flourished a grand gesture, pretending to adjust an imaginary top hat atop his head.

You couldn't help but giggle at his theatrics. "How could I resist such an offer from the ever-enchanting Astarion?" you teased, accepting his outstretched hand.

He pulled you close, his hand resting firmly on the small of your back as he led you in a slow and graceful waltz beneath the soft glow of the moon. The world around you seemed to fade away as you slowly swayed in each other's arms.

"I don't remember this happening on our first night," you murmured against his ear, remembering how different that moment had been compared to this one.

A low, seductive chuckle escaped Astarion's lips as they brushed against your skin. "And pray tell, darling, what do you recall?"

"I remember you trying to seduce me and then almost draining me dry," you teased, a mischievous glint in your eye.

Astarion let out a dramatic gasp. "Such slander! I would never do such a thing!" He pressed his hand to his chest in mock offense.

You both laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet night. It was a stark contrast to the fake seducing words and lack of feelings of that first night. Now, he was completely at ease, his true self shining through without any pretense or hunger clouding his mind.

"But it was still special," Astarion whispered, stopping the dance to pull you closer to him. "It's what brought us to be here now, and I wouldn't trade that for anything."

You smiled up at him, your heart fluttering at his words, as you leaned in to kiss him. It was a gentle and sweet kiss at first but soon turned more passionate as Astarion deepened it. His hands grabbed your thighs and picked you up to press you up against a nearby tree, lips trailing down your neck.

"This is bringing back memories," You say breathlessly.

You could feel him smirk against your skin "Do you really think so? Perhaps I should refresh them even more."

His declaration sent a wave of warmth through your body and you leaned in to kiss him again, eager to lose yourself in the moment. His hands were now unbuttoning your shirt and you gasped as they reached your bare skin. You looked at his hooded eyes, and with a playful smile, offered your neck to him.

However, Astarion pulled away slightly and looked into your eyes, with something like doubt swimming in them. "I want this to be real," he said earnestly. "Not like last time."

You nodded in understanding and smiled softly at him. "It already is," you reassured him, cupping his cheek with your hand.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he leaned in to kiss you again, but this time it was slow and tender – an exchange of affection rather than something laced with hunger or deception. Astarion picked you up again and gently set you down on the soft blanket that he had laid out earlier. He leaned in to kiss you once more, his body hovering over yours.

As you entwined your fingers in his soft, white locks, you pulled him towards you, deepening the kiss. His hands explored every curve and dip of your body, sending pleasurable shivers down your spine with each touch.

As his lips trailed from yours, they left a tingling sensation in their wake. Your hands eagerly reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. Astarion's hungry gaze followed every movement as you unbuttoned your jeans and let them fall to the ground. With a grin, he helped you out of your remaining clothes before stepping back to fully appreciate your naked form glistening under the moonlight. His eyes traced every curve and dip of your body before meeting your gaze once again, a hunger evident in his expression.

"You are breathtaking," he murmured, and then pulled you into another passionate kiss. Your fingers traced the lines of his bare chest, feeling the softness of his skin. You tugged at his shirt, silently urging him to remove it, and he obliged with a sly smile. His pants soon followed, revealing the chiseled contours of his body. Your hands traced over every ridge and dip of his body, feeling the coolness of his skin against your fingertips.

"I want you to bite me," you whispered urgently.

Astarion leaned down to press his lips against the nape of your neck, making you gasp and arch into him as he traced his fangs along your pulse point. Your skin tingled with excitement as his hands eagerly explored your body before gripping your hips, sending shivers of desire through you.

"Tell me if it becomes too much," he whispered against your skin before sinking his teeth into your neck gently.

You gasped at the sensation – a mix of pleasure and pain that sent sparks flying through your body. Astarion's grip on your hips tightened as he drank from you, his other hand reaching up to cup one of your breasts. You moaned as he continued to drink from you, feeling the pleasure building up inside of you.

After a few minutes, Astarion pulled away and licked the wound on your neck before kissing it gently. His red eyes met yours and they were glowing with a mix of emotions – desire, love, and something else that you couldn't quite pinpoint.

"I'll never grow weary of that," he murmurs, before leaning in for another kiss. Astarion's lips trailed down your neck and onto your chest, leaving a trail of kisses as he made his way towards your breasts, taking a nipple between his lips. Every touch of his tongue sent sparks of pleasure through your body and you arched your back in response.

"Astarion..." you panted.

The sound of his name on your lips only spurred him on, and he began to suckle harder, moving to tease the other nipple with his fingers. His hand moved from your breast to between your legs, and you gasped as his fingers found your wetness. He slipped his fingers between your soaking folds, skillfully rubbing and circling your clit. The combination of his mouth and fingers sent waves of pleasure through you, making you whimper and writhe beneath him.

"Please," you whimpered, unable to hold back any longer.

Astarion smirked against your skin before moving down your body, his lips leaving a trail of kisses until he reached the apex of your thighs. He looked up at you with hunger in his eyes before diving in with his tongue, causing you to cry out in pleasure.

His tongue flicked against your clit, sending waves of ecstasy through your body. You tangled your fingers in his hair, urging him on as he continued to please you.

"Astarion...oh gods..." you cried out, your voice thick with need. His fingers thrusted into you relentlessly, syncing perfectly with the skilled movements of his tongue on your swollen clit. Your body arched and trembled with each wave of pleasure, every muscle tensed in anticipation.

"Inside...now..." you begged, unable to find the words to express the ache for him to fill you completely.

Astarion looked up at you from between your legs, his eyes filled with lust and desire, "Whatever you wish, dearest."

With a swift movement, he withdrew his fingers from your slick entrance and aligned himself at your dripping core. He pushed in slowly, savoring the tightness and heat engulfing him. A moan escaped your lips as you were filled to the hilt, waves of pleasure washing over you. Your bodies melted together, panting and trembling with pleasure. He then leaned in close, and gently rested his forehead against yours, breaths mingling as you held each other.

"I never envisioned discovering someone like you," Astarion said softly, "You have made these six months of happy memories counterweight two hundred years of misery."

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes at his words. The weight of his words, the realization that you have brought true joy to someone who has known nothing but misery, crushes you in the most beautiful way.

"I...I love you," you managed to choke out, your heart overflowing with emotion as you reached up to touch his face, tracing the lines of his cheekbone with trembling fingers. "More than anything."

Astarion's eyes softened at your words, a small smile tugging at his lips. He leaned down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss, pouring all of his emotions into it. You both stayed like that for a few moments, just lost in each other.

"I love you more than my own existence," he whispered against your lips, his voice raw with emotion. "You are my everything."

Without hesitation, he leaned down to capture your lips in a desperate kiss, and you savored the feeling of his lips against yours. Eventually, he starts slowly moving inside of you, each thrust calculated and precise as he intertwines his fingers with yours. You moaned and wrapped your legs around his waist, still lazily kissing him. Astarion continued to move inside of you with slow, deliberate strokes, making love to you in the most intimate way. Every movement is filled with intense desire and tenderness, eliciting uncontrollable moans of pleasure from your lips.

"You feel so good," he whispered against your lips, his voice filled with adoration.

Your legs wrapped around his toned waist, your fingers tightly gripping his as he moved inside you. Each thrust was met with a moan from your lips, the heat and friction between your bodies igniting a passionate fire within you. He held you close, his lips eagerly finding yours in between each deepening thrust. The intensity and intimacy of the moment had you lost in a sea of pleasure, feeling every inch of him as he poured his love into every movement. Your body trembled as you neared your climax, unable to contain the overwhelming sensation any longer. Sensing this, he shifted his hand between your bodies, his fingers finding their way to your clit once again.

"Oh gods," you cried out as the pleasure intensified. Your body trembled and your breath quickened as Astarion's fingers moved expertly over your skin. You dug your nails into his back, desperately trying to hold on as he brought you closer to the edge.

"I'm close," Astarion grunted, his own body trembling with need.

"I am too," you whimpered.

Astarion's movements became faster and more urgent, his own moans mixing with yours in the stillness of the night.

"Look at me when you come," he demanded, and you obeyed.

Your eyes locked with Astarion's, the intensity of his gaze sending chills down your spine. As you reached the peak of pleasure, your body trembled and your walls pulsed around him. You couldn't hold back any longer and cried out his name, drowning in waves of pure ecstasy, and Astarion followed suit with a guttural moan. As you both lay there, breathless and entwined, every cell in your body buzzed with contentment and fulfillment.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice raw with emotion.

"I love you too," Astarion replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead before rolling off of you and pulling you close to his chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling content and complete in his arms.

You both lay there for a while, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking, until eventually, Astarion spoke up.

"Even if we don't find the cure, being here with you is enough," he said softly, his voice filled with emotion. He paused for a moment, his eyes on yours, searching for the right words. "This is all I ever wanted," he says softly, placing his hand on your cheek.

You looked up at him, a small smile on your lips as you traced your fingers along his chest.

"I feel the same way," you replied, resting your head back on his chest. "But we can't give up hope just yet."

Astarion nodded, his arms tightening around you. "We won't" Astarion replies. He pulls you in close to him, squeezing you tightly. "We'll find the cure. I know we will." A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "And I will spend the rest of eternity making it up to you."

#astarion ancunin #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #baldurs gate fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 #astarion baldurs gate #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #fanfic

748 notes · View notes

inkykeiji · 6 months

Text

characters: haitani ran x fem!reader x haitani rindou warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, consensual somnophilia, rough sex, implied poly relationship, minimal prep, lots of cum words: 1.4k

the haitani brothers have fallen into a bit of a habit as of late. a nasty habit, a naughty habit, and, to them, a natural habit.

or so they’ve told you.

it’s become a part of their morning and nightly routines, the perfect way to start and end their days—by fucking you awake, and fucking you to sleep.

they’ve got a sort of system going now, working in perfect sync just like they always do, falling into step with one another efficiently, effortlessly.

as to be expected.

despite his aversion to waking up, ran has taken the morning shift. he’s careful with it, cautious with it, rousing you slow and soft and sweet as he sinks his cock into you, breathing out an airy little sigh against the nape of your neck as he watches your cunt stretch and strain around his girth, as he finally bottoms out, cockhead pressed snug to your cervix and hips pressed flush to your ass, balls nudging you gently.

his favourite part will always be the way your face scrunches oh-so-cutely, features warped in pain—brow crinkled and nose crumpled—the moment he grinds himself into the sensitive mound of tissue, lazy and languid yet somehow still powerful and purposeful. his hips move in precise little gyrations, rubbing quick circles into your cervix until those stringy whines are oozing from your lips and soaking into your pillow, cheek still half-buried in the flesh.

those precious little sounds evolve into pitchy mewls and high moans, stammered by each hitch of your breath with each rub of his cock, climbing in volume and frequency as a dense pressure collects in the pit of your stomach, steadily pulling you further and further into consciousness.

ran presses his forehead to the crown of your head, rests it there and lets his eyes slip shut as he works into you, works to wake you up, gradual and gentle with shallow little thrusts, just enough to have the head of his cock dragging and rolling over that swollen spot buried deep within you—that spot he knows so well, that spot he relentlessly abuses with each and every sunrise, that spot that has you trembling and clenching and crying out his name as your cunt gushes slick all over him—so much, too much, and god, baby, you always make such a mess—sticky and slippery as it streams down his shaft and coats his thighs.

and it’s only after this, after he’s sure your orgasm has smashed through your unconsciousness and left you wide awake with pleasant mush for brains, that he will really fuck you just the way he likes to; swift, smooth strokes of his cock as his hips jackhammer that sometimes have you convulsing on him for a second time as he spills himself into you, a gasp of your name beautiful and breathless on his tongue.

it’s rare that ran will actually get up with you, usually falling back asleep a mere moment or two after he’s filled you with his cum, but him being awake was never the goal. as long as it has you rolling out of bed on wobbly legs and with dollops of ivory rolling down your inner thighs, he has succeeded.

resultantly, rindou has taken the night shift, though he doesn’t always come directly to bed even after he’s got your cream slathered all over his cock and your cunt stuffed full of his cum.

rindou isn’t really sure why his brother bothers with dressing you in such pretty little silk slips and lacy babydolls every evening, especially when he knows rindou’s just going to ruin them, stain them with cum or tear through them with overeager, too-strong fingers, but he lets ran have his fun with you anyway, waiting patiently as ran plays dolly.

but once you’re finally ready, teeth brushed and face washed and body outfitted in the cutest nightie money can buy (sans panties, of course), ran hands you off to his baby brother, often paired with an insouciant remark about being a little gentler this time—advice rindou never heeds, advice rindou accepts with equal apathy.

because as much as ran spews out those nonchalant reprimands and requests, they both love seeing you covered in rindou—all four of his fingers and his thumb, collaring your neck or cuffing your wrist or painted across your ass; all thirty-two of his teeth, engraved into your inner thighs or stamped right over your heart, deep and dark and congealed with blood.

besides, rindou argues, he has to be rough with you, has to fuck you hard and fast and so fucking ruthless—how else is he supposed to tire you out and get you to sleep?

he has to give you an orgasm so absolutely earth shattering that you need to pass out, to slip into full unconsciousness, to piece your world back together. he has to fuck you until your muscles are heavy and your bones have liquified under the immense pleasure, body turned to pliable putty so he can twist and curl and knot you into whatever position he pleases.

he has to fuck you until your words are nothing more that spit-soaked whines smeared across the sheets, until your lids are weighted with exhaustion and your lashes are bloated with tears, unable to stay open as your irises roll and reveal white, until your fingers go slack, cotton no longer tangled around your knuckles, grip loose and weak.

and then he has to fuck you some more, just for good measure, of course, sculpted muscles in his thighs flexing beneath smooth skin as his hips pound and plunge with such force the entire bedframe shudders, jostling your whole body up the mattress, your arms shaking as they try to keep you steady and still while pushing back against his snapping thrusts, his abs rippling with each thrust, his chest swelling with ragged breaths and hoarse groans.

it’s when your tongue is sloppy and your words are messy and melty and mangled together in a single matted stream that rindou knows you’re close—to cumming and to passing out—brain gone so adorably stupid with lust, only capable of stitching together a weeped out patchwork of rin-rin-rin; yes-yes-yes.

the head of his cock is assaulting that spot in perfect rhythm with your cute little chants, that spot that feels so good, rin, s’good, that spot he and his brother continually stain their names into in ivory and cream.

you’re teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when your orgasm hits with all the intensity of a freight train, sending you tumbling over that cliff with a cracked gasp of his name, body gone rigid for a moment as pleasure seizes your form, little sparks of electricity zipping through your veins, blood left bubbling in their wake.

then you’re mollifying, sinking into the bed as his desire melts you to nothing, malleable in his palms as he molds you into whatever he needs.

a calm, deep slumber has already enveloped you by the time his cock is pulsing, pumping you full of thick cum—so much cum, too much cum, always, seeping out from around his shaft to roll down your ass and his thighs in fat beads of pearl, streaking your skin with shimmering streams of translucence.

it’s so pretty, he’s breathing as he watches it with voracious pupils outlined in a thin ring of violet. you’re so pretty when you’re coated in him; his seed, his tongue, his touch, his teeth, stained across the canvas of your body.

and even though he knows you won’t remember it by the time the sun is rising and his brother is fucking his cock into you, rindou takes his time to clean you up—to wash your skin and smooth down your pretty nightgown and swathe you in fluffy comforters, petting sweaty hair back from your forehead and temples, sealing his actions with chaste kisses.

they’re not much, but he hopes they make up for some of the pain and soreness he’s stained into your body tonight—a soft, tender, silent thank you.

he isn’t as good at it all as ran is, isn’t as thorough and meticulous and careful, but he does it nonetheless, because he enjoys it, because you deserve it, because he likes to take a moment or two just to admire you, on his own, alone, in the dead of the night.

an angel. his angel. their angel. pretty and precious and perfect in every way.

they couldn’t ask for anything better.

#haitani ran x reader #haitani ran smut #haitani rindou x reader #haitani rindou smut #haitani brothers smut #bonten x reader #bonten x you #bonten smut #haitani ran x you #haitani rindou x you

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munson-blurbs · 5 months

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Day 3 of TUI-Mas

Warnings: pregnancy, morning sickness/vomiting, food aversions, fatigue, some angst sprinkled in for ~flavor~

WC: 1.2k

Divider credit to @saradika

March 1999

Oatmeal: a delicious, nutritious breakfast food that has been a staple in your diet since you were a child. It hasn’t done anything wrong.

Until now.

The scents of brown sugar and cinnamon always perk you up in the morning; at least, as much as anything can without containing copious amounts of caffeine. Today; however, they waft past your nose and have you hurtling towards the bathroom.

Eddie runs in from the bedroom, his jeans button still unfastened where he’d abandoned getting dressed for work. “S’okay,” he murmurs, rubbing your back as you empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet. Your cheeks blaze with the rush of blood to your face and the shame from being in such a vulnerable position.

You spit the last of it into the bowl and grab a handful of toilet paper to wipe your lips, taking a moment to collect yourself before slowly standing up. Eddie places a warm washcloth in your palm; you hadn’t even heard the faucet running over the pounding in your ears.

“Thanks,” you mumble, pressing the damp cloth to your forehead and taking a deep, shaky breath. This isn’t your first bout of morning sickness–that happened about a week after you received your positive test result–and it likely won’t be the last. Still, you’re surprised at how quickly your husband has adapted to this relatively new routine.

He kisses your scalp, nimble fingers fixing his pants button and buckling his belt. “Are you sure you wanna go to work today?” he asks, concern pinching his brows as he takes in your exhausted form.

You nod slowly, determined to stop the room from spinning. “I already took off twice last week.”

“So?”

“So,” you explain with a sigh, “I don’t want to use up all of my sick days in the first trimester. Not when I’ll have more doctor appointments as I get farther along.” Not to mention the fact that people have started questioning your absences, and you’re not ready to tell anyone the reason just yet. “Besides, I woke up feeling okay; I didn’t throw up until I smelled the oatmeal.” Your insides lurch at the mere mention of the food, and you find yourself hovering over the bowl once more.

Eddie hums knowingly as he runs the washcloth under the water again and wrings it out with a twist of his hands. “Uh-huh. And what if one of your students happens to talk about oat–”

“Don’t say it!” you cut him off as forcefully as you can, fighting your buckling knees as you steady yourself.

He relents, exasperatedly pivoting back to the bedroom to finish getting dressed. There’s little sense in arguing with you, especially with a nosy little boy eating breakfast in the kitchen not even twenty feet away. As far as Harris knew, you’d just been battling a stomach bug, and you and Eddie were both grateful that he hadn’t questioned it further. His response was telling you a…charming story about how his friend Charlie ate three bags of Hot Cheetos before promptly vomiting all over the cafeteria table; an anecdote that did nothing to quell your nausea.

You pull yourself together enough to make it to work. The queasiness subsides as the minutes tick on, though you take your lunch break in your car to avoid any smells in the faculty lounge that could inadvertently trigger another bout of sickness. You half-heartedly go through the motions of story time and arts and crafts, silently promising your students that you’ll have more enthusiasm once your second trimester begins.

By the time you arrive back home and trudge through the door, you may as well be dragging sandbags from your ankles. Exhaustion hits you without warning, your eyelids heavier with each passing second. You drop your keys on the side table and glance over at the clock hanging on the wall. The larger hand has barely ticked past the “6,” which means you have just under a half hour until you have to leave and pick up Harris from his after-school art program.

You don’t even make it to your bedroom, heaving your body onto the couch with a grunt; the stiff pillows have never been more comfortable. The last thought that crosses your fatigued mind is that you can’t sleep for long. If you lay down for a moment…set an alarm for fifteen minutes…

You’re awoken not of your own accord, but by the sound of the apartment door squeaking, the knob thwacking against the wall as though it’s being flung open.

“Thank God you’re okay.” It comes out in one breath, Eddie’s relief palpable as soon as he sees that you’re alive and breathing.

Still groggy with sleep, you push yourself onto your elbows, squinting at the influx of light from the hallway. Why wouldn’t you be okay? You were just taking a nap; it’s only been…an hour and a half?

“Shit, shit, shit!” You scramble to your feet, not even cognizant of the fact that you’re swearing in front of Harris. You take in his tear-stained face, comprehending his thought process before he can even say it aloud. “Har, I’m so sorry. I swear, I didn’t forget about you. I’ve just been really sleepy–”

“Har, can you go to your room for a sec?” Eddie keeps his voice even and controlled, but you can still sense the frustration simmering beneath. He puts his hands on his son’s shoulders and gives a tense squeeze, and Harris nods and somberly obeys.

Your misty eyes meet your husband’s gaze, his jaw steeled as you fumble to explain yourself. “Eddie, it was a total accident! I…I needed to rest…I didn’t think I’d sleep this long…”

He shakes his head, arms dejectedly hanging by his sides. “I asked you not to go to work,” he says softly, teeth digging into his lower lip. “It’s not because I think you’re weak or incapable or anything like that. You just need to take care of yourself.” His voice drops to an even quieter whisper as he walks closer to you, caressing your cheek. “You’re growing our baby, Sweetheart. That’s a pretty big deal.”

“I know,” you murmur, tears leaking from your eyes. “I’m not good at slowing down.” You can usually push yourself to your limits with minimal consequences, but it seems like those days are behind you.

Eddie tilts your chin so you’re looking directly at him. His expression isn’t as hard; a faint smirk of understanding graces his lips. “And I love how driven you are. But your mission for the next nine months—should you choose to accept it—is to incubate Baby Munson.”

“Incubate?” You wrinkle your nose as his phrasing.

“Incubate,” he affirms with a kiss to your nose. “Now, why don’t you go check on Harris, and I’ll start dinner.” His hand rests on the small of your back. “I was just gonna roast some chicken breasts, if that works for you?” It’s a quick and easy dinner that you have once a week.

But it looks like it might be off the menu for a bit; your eyes bulge and your palm flies to your mouth as soon as you imagine the varying textures of meat and skin.

“On second thought,” Eddie mutters, plucking a Surfer Boy pamphlet from the kitchen drawer, “maybe we’ll do pizza tonight.”

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui #smut

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sashiavi · 6 months

Text

•····🍑········• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𝓓𝓪𝔂 𝓕𝓲𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓮𝓷⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•········🍑····•

𝚂𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒𝙰𝚟𝚒'𝚜 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛

#15•𝙻𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗•#15

𝙰𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒 𝙸𝚝𝚝𝚘 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ ².⁸ᵏ

The Arataki Gang was made up of many interesting characters. An intelligent ex-shrine maiden, a hulking descendant of the Red Oni, a young Akaushi bull calf, even the renowned Traveler was an honorary member. The Gang was a group of rowdy misfits, tossed aside from their previous lives, doing their best to make every day count. They welcome people with open arms, including you! A sweet young girl from the outskirts of Inazuma.

You fit in well with the group, adorning your own unique features; You were a hybrid, not too common of a sight within the Nation of Inazuma, a Taurean hybrid to be exact - or a Cow Girl! As Itto says. You sported large, floppy ears and adorned the cutest little horns on your head. You were sweet, soft and loving, ever so compassionate towards all of the members of the group.

Whether you meant to or not, you took on a maternal role for the Gang. You ensured everyone's tummies were full and satisfied. Took up mending clothes and garments whenever they were torn. Regularly, halfheartedly scolding the silly boys when they stayed up far too late considering their plans for the morrow.

Your presence created a new balance, something Itto cherished dearly, he adored having you around. His heart swells when he watches you snuggle into Ushi after a long day, napping with the young calf before supper. He smiles when you return after an outing, bringing sweet treats and chocolates for everyone to enjoy. His chest hurts when he sees you unwell, waving everyone off while you attempt to upkeep your routine.

He notices your permanent downturned frown, the sleepy little blinks you make while trying to concentrate on the meeting. Itto couldn't help but ignore Shinobu's voice, something was wrong and even he could tell. You hug your arms around your body, squeezing tightly, in an attempt to provide some sort of comfort to yourself. Itto watches you rock back and forth with little wobbly movements, he swears he feels his heart crack into two.

If it were him, he thinks, he'd like a hug, that'd make him better so.. Surely it'd help you.. Right? There's something tugging at his chest, an urge, to hold you close.

He wraps his large arm around your frame, squeezing you tight into his side. It seemed to soothe you a little, Itto thinks. You smelt really pretty. He feels your soft body relax into him with a little sigh. He was going to get to the bottom of his, even if it took all day! He would make you feel better. The meeting drags on (no offense to Shinobu) and all Itto could think about was the sweet girl in his arms. He was surprised you eased into him so easily - Not that you had an aversion to his touch! He didn't think - just that most people weren't so easily pliant. Man, you really must not be feeling well.

If anyone noticed Itto's arm around you they didn't mention it. When the meeting lets up, everyone makes their way out, babbling on about who's shouting yakisoba and sake, leaving you and Itto alone in the room. You sit in a comfy silence, Itto was nearly sure you'd fallen asleep until he hears a soft whine. He feels your little horns press into his ribs, it nearly tickles him. He squeezes you again and you startle with a gasp. You suddenly pull away from his form with a small '..'m sorry'. Why were you sorry if he was the one to pull you in?

"You okay? You seem sick" Itto pouts, creasing his eyebrows in concern. You looked flushed, your lips still stuck in that unrelenting frown. Itto waits, let's you take your time in answering.

"Just.. Something with my… biology?" You sounded uncertain, you look anywhere but him. Biology? Science stuff? Man he really should have gone to school.. He scratches the back of his head, he wasn't the smartest tool in the shed but he was willing to learn! - He nearly fist pumps the air in determination.

"Biology..?" He probes, relaxing his body, bringing himself down to your level. You give a nervous laugh, shit, he hoped he wasn't making you uncomfortable.

"This thing.. Happens to my body around this time of the year…" Your voice is impossibly smaller, if it weren't for his keen ears he's sure he wouldn't have heard you.

"Ah, like a rut?" It made sense, Spring was approaching, the air was warming and there was the distinct tickle of pollen in the air. Itto was all too familiar with ruts, the hot achey flashes, the unbearable pains, curling into a pitiful ball until it passed. The only thing that helped him through it was a hot bowl on tonkotsu ramen and a heavy set of weights to push. Maybe you needed something to eat? Itto misses the Owl eyed look you give him.

"Ah.. yes… Something like that.. It's more of a h-heat.. Ah! I- I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable, Mister Arataki.. It was inappropriate of me to say that.." Your voice wavers. Inappropriate? What was inappropriate about a heat? Sounded like a rut and they made his bones chill, made his tummy ache and burn, made his legs restless. He wouldn't wish that upon anyone!

"Nahh it's alright, I get it! I get the feeling - and stop calling me that, just call me Itto" His smile is wide and cheeky, doing his best to ease the mood and bring in a little light.

"You.. You feel it too?" You shift in your spot.

"Yeah! If there's anything I can do to help I'll do it, promise!" He even holds out his pinky in a truce. He hopes that your shared experience will help, make you feel comfortable and safe. No judgement here! It's an Official rule of the Arataki Gang.

"I… I may have a request.." You finally lock eyes, you look unsure and Itto feels something in his belly. Second hand anxiety? He could tell you were nervous and for some reason, his body screamed at him to just.. Hold you close.

Itto nods his head, showing you he's listening.

"It's… really embarrassing.." You squeeze yourself tight again. It's Itto's turn to frown, surely nothing could top his most embarrassing moments you've bared witness to.

"Hey, I won't judge.. Trust me! I gotta look out for my Gang, how can I do that without helping you out?" He thinks he makes sense. He hopes he does, he didn't really have a way with words.

"I…" Your lips purse again, in an attempt to gain some courage.

"I'm a hybrid.. With Taurean features.." He knew that, you were a little cow. Not like Ushi, but you had pretty horns, you were soft like a cow too and sometimes you let out little 'moos' when you got excited. Itto nods in understanding, beckoning you to continue.

"We have.. I inherited a certain... thing.. please keep an open mind?" You nearly beg, little tears well up in your eyes. It must be serious then, Itto straightens up, running his finger over his heart in an 'X' shape. He crosses his heart and hopes to suffer the traumatic consequences of the beans. He was really proud of you for telling him this much.

"I can handle anything!" Itto puffs out his chest with a satisfied grin.

"I… I.. I need to be Milked"

…

Huh?

Something inside of Itto's brain starts ticking, a new feeling, something he'd never, ever felt before in his life. He can't help but notice just how pretty you looked, how sweet you smelt, how clamy his hands were. He swallows thickly.

"Milked..? Like.. a cow?" Did she have utters? Did all girls have utters? No that's stupid. Unless?

"U-uh I- I'm sorry it's weird.. I… it just.. hurts" Your sweet voice cracks and so does Itto's soul.

"Ah- bah- no! Not weird at all! I think it's normal.. cows and milk it- it all goes together yeah.. it makes sense- was that offensive? n-not that you're a cow-" Itto babbles, he does his best to reassure you, flailing his arms around madly. You manage a half smile, he was trying and you appreciated it.

"Usually.." You start. "I sort this out alone but.. I haven't had the time." You look away again, letting out a strained breath. You were still hurting and it was Itto's fault, he should have done something sooner.

"How can I help?" He's serious, he'd never felt so sure of something in his whole life. His eagerness catches you off guard, you're giving him the same, owlish look from before. He sees you bite your lip, pretty.. stop it.. focus.

"You just.." You make a gesture, squeezing your fingers together and pulling your hand down. Seems simple enough.. You stand and beckon Itto to follow you. He's lead to a little corner, covered in plush pillows and blankets, a comfy little quiet spot for Shinobu to read and Ushi to nap. He sits first as you request, propping himself up on the mountain of cushions. You follow after, tentatively sitting in his lap, your back to his broad chest. Your frame is soft on his, smaller than him of course, but soft. He nearly wraps his arms around you to give you a squeeze, but he withholds.

"I'm.. going to take my top off… is that okay?" You turn back to talk to him, your face inches from him, breath on his chin. Itto nods with a 'mhm!' - he didn't trust his voice right now. Your soft skin is revealed, illuminated by a warm hanging lantern in the room. You whine softly, poking at your achey breasts, wincing when you touch your sensitive nipple. Ittos heart pulses in his ears, your warm back leans into his naked chest. His hands hover over your hips, unsure on where he was allowed to put them.

You palm at his fingers, carefully bringing them up to your sore chest. He cups your swollen breasts, his warm palms welcomed on your cold, achey skin. Itto resists the reflex to squish and squeeze the soft flesh in his hands, never had he felt so out of breath. He couldn't describe the feeling, the warm, heat in his lower stomach, the sensation near cramping. His brain felt hyperaware, as if he were in danger, despite him clearly not. His thoughts are cut short when he hears your sweet voice.

"S-So.. you just.. pinch like thi- ah~" Your soft tone is cut with a keen as Itto squeezes at your puffy nipples. A sharp spurt of hot milk sputters from your breast, dribbling down Itto's knuckles. His eyes widened in fascination. Neuron Activated.

He continues to pinch at your nipples, tenderly squeezing the swollen, puffy buds with his fingers, relieving the ouchy pressure in your chest. You keen your head back, nearly knocking him in the chin with your little horns. Itto sighs out, breath laced in a new-found emotion. Something soft, something.. hot. His fingers become sticky, coated in your sweet milk. He's almost tempted to shove his fingers in his mouth, lick up the sweet, sweet cream that leaked from your breast. He finds his nose in your neck, drinking in your pretty scent, something about you was making his body agitated, his brain fogged, his tongue drooling.

He feels as though the sweet milks spilling from your breast was wasting. It dribbles down your tummy and soaks into whatever fabric was pooling at your hip. Your wet fingers come up to caress his face, drenched in your cream. The smell drives him mad, just a taste.. it would be a waste otherwise. Itto kisses at your fingers wetly, savouring your sweet cream. Gods he wanted more. Needed more. He doesn't know what comes over him.

"Can I.. please- can I use my mouth?? It'll be faster.. waste less.." He babbles into your neck, nuzzling his nose hard into your pulse. To his surprise you nod. Nod and nod and nod.

Itto is quick to manhandle your form, effortlessly scooping you up and placing you softly into the plush cushions. He wraps his large arms around you, taking a quick moment to snuggle into your front. You pet his hair, kiss his head, squeeze him back. Itto's chest surges and his tummy aches - in a good way. His breath is hot on your breasts, lips kiss carefully on your puffy nipples. His brain sparks, pupils dilate, he needs a real taste.

He licks a soft stripe up your plushy tits, lapping his tongue over your achey, swollen nipple. He urges your hands to wrap around his horns, lest he poked your eye out with them. Your sweet milk leaks on to his tongue and he nearly groans out loud. He breathes deep, his nose pleasantly assaulted with your pretty scent, soft and floral like sakura, sweet like dango milk. Carefully, he wraps his lips around your nipple, engulfing the achey bud in his mouth, soothing it with his tongue.

Itto sighs and nuzzles into the skin of your breast, lips latched on your puffy nipple, carefully nursing on your creamy milk. You cradle his head, petting at his fluffy hair, tucking it behind his ear as he suckles on your tits. He hears you sigh and relax into the plush pillows behind you. His other hand slowly massages at your other breast, in an attempt to soothe any ache while he's occupied. Your bud dribbles milk down your tummy, pooling prettily in your lap. Your sweet buttery milk coats his tongue, warm and creamy as he swallows it down. Your plush thighs wrap around Itto's middle, hugging him close to your body as he nurses on your tits.

Itto feels an ache in his groin, a pulsing pressure at the head of his untouched cock. Your pretty thighs squeeze at him, your achey, swollen nipples spurt the yummiest, creamiest milk on his tongue.

Itto couldn't remember just how he ended up like this, but he wouldn't have you any other way. Itto's thick cock nestles sweetly into your gushy cunt, wet and creamy from your arousal and the sweet milk dribbling from your tits. Your hands grip at his red horns, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the sensitive surface. Itto's lips never leave your tits, body bent over you, milking the sweet, creamy nectre from your nipples. All for him, just for him.

His hips hump carefully into your pussy, warm and sticky and wet. The soft squeeze of your core feels like Heaven on Tyvet. If this was Itto's last day alive he'd die a happy man. Your sweet little moans tumble from your pretty lips, just as soft as you were. Itto peers his eyes up, lips kissing and suckling at your achey nipples as he looks at you. You smile prettily, carding your fingers through his messy bangs, absolutely blissed out on him. Your breaths are slow, soft in his ears, your voice light and relaxed as you speak.

"..'s good Itto.. thank you~… doing a good job.. such a good job.." You praise him with your heart. Itto all but whimpers into your breast, rutting his hips deliciously into your cunny while he milks you. Anything to help out his sweet girl.

You press your forehead to his hair, knocking your pretty little horns against his own. Itto feels a hot twist in his groin, he swallows hard, nearly choking on the thick, sweet buttery cream on his tongue. He feels something, an aching in his cock, a delicious pressure building up in his lap.

"Itto.. m' gonna… getting close.. doing a good job, such a sweetie… my sweet.. my Itto~" You babble, voice breathy as can be, muffled in his hair. He barely hears you, too caught up in the tight hug of your cunt, the sweet milk thay dribbles down your tummy and on to his cock. He looks down, hyperfocused on the pretty, creamy ring around his cock as he humps his hips against yours. He groans out loud, dribbling spit and milk down his chin, something was happening, he could feel it.

Itto latches hard on your achey nipple as he creams in your pussy, slowly fucking hot ropes of cum up into your tummy. He nurses on your tits as he grinds his pelvis on yours, bumping his groin into your sticky clit. You follow soon after with a keen, squeezing his hips with your plush thighs, pulsing over his thick, aching cock. Neither of you made an effort to stop, still grinding against eachother softly. Itto continues to suckle and lap at your achey tits, massaging your nipple with his thick tongue, swallowing up your sweet milk in little gulps.

Itto could stay like this for hours, and maybe he will. Fucking into your soft, gushy pussy while he worships your tits, nursing out every last drop of your sweet, buttery milk until all of the ouchy feelings go away.

These recent fics have been rotting in my drafts for far to long 😔

they're so tedious to write but I think I really like how this one came out - itto is a sweety dumb dumb <3

Also I have never written in Itto's pov? Lmk if it works or not baha he's kinda an unreliable narrator but only because he's confused </3

•··········🍑···········• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•···········🍑··········•

Thank You For Reading! Comments Are Always Aplreciated! I'll Kiss You muah ♡

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@heath-sama @yejiswifex @hunnibunnix @bleh09 @madsw9 @py-schi @wizzardcatwithastick @shiningpaint-marbleheart @cherrytomato2 @i-am-silver @your-tears-taste-sweeter @kqzutcra @themusingsofmany @kaijubxnny @tericula @omletteattack @maryeehawe @pomeiu @the-massive-simp

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dianneking · 1 month

Text

The Affair - Chapter 1 (Larissa/Reader)

Hiya! As part of my weekly writing challenge, I wrote this chapter over two writing sessions, and I chose not to wait for the fic to be finished before posting. It'll probably be a couple of chapters all together.

Pairing: Larissa Weems/You Rating: Mature

Tags: Morally Ambiguous Character, Swearing, Boss/Employee Relationship, Infidelity, Second-person POV, Teacher Reader.

Link to AO3 in the title

The Affair - Chapter 1

Waiting in the snow for a married woman , you thought, moodily pulling your scarf up to cover your freezing nose as yet another car passed, how the fuck did my life come to this?

You had never been one for thrills in life. If anything, you had been pretty boring: you’d always liked English class at school, always got straight As, never stepped a foot out of line. You never felt the need to, nor the appeal of being rebellious. You’d gone on to get a bachelor’s degree and teacher’s certification, and then you’d gone on to teach English in a string of small town schools.

There was only one aspect out of the ordinary in your life up until now; you could never settle down in one place.. You felt a restlessness, a pull towards something you still hadn’t found, and after a couple of years in a place, it inevitably built up until it was too strong to resist. And so you packed your bags, applied for a job somewhere else, and started anew.

You didn’t think Jericho would be much different. Small town, 5 thousand inhabitants, only spots of interest a tacky historical reconstruction site and a school full of outcasts. The same one you had applied to. Nothing much to offer. You’d give it a year or two at most.

You didn’t really care about the fact that you were teaching outcasts. They might drink blood or howl at the moon or whatever in their spare time, but they were teenagers that had to learn to write a proper essay just like anyone else. You prided yourself in your work ethic and told that to the board when they interviewed you. Apparently they appreciated that. Or there was nobody else who had applied. There had been some accidents during the last school year, apparently. The board had repeated several times that it had been a one-off and it had been taken care of definitively.They had all seemed very defensive about the topic.

Once again, you shrugged it off. You had no time to waste on rumors and things of the past. The school had its quirks, sure, but all schools had, each in their own way. You settled in your quarters on the school grounds, and started reviewing your lesson plans taking into account the notes left by the previous teacher. You settled in for your usual routine of lessons, tests, marking that you were familiar with by now.

And then she barged into your life, throwing routine and predictability to the wind.

Even with your aversion to gossip, you’d heard about her. Larissa Weems, the best principal Nevermore had ever had, mysteriously injured in the line of work, supposedly trying to protect the school, and hospitalized for months after that. When talking about her, voices dropped to a whisper out of respect - or fear, you hadn’t been able to ascertain that.

The day she had come back, you’d have thought royalty was about to visit the school, with the amount of fretting, of preparations, of nervous energy filling the halls and rooms. You’d had to let your classes work on assignments because they had been unable to listen to one word of what you were explaining. You had rolled your eyes in the privacy of your room. Seriously, you’d seen plenty of disruptive principals in your years of teaching, but one who could be so distracting even before she had set foot back in school? That was a first.

You felt obliged to show up as well to the welcoming committee. The whole staff was there, as well as the student body. Some had even prepared signs, and there was a white banner draped along the balcony on which was written, in red paint, a very wonky Welcome back Princ. Weems .

It was cute that she was so beloved by her school, you thought, but you were also thinking of how to recover the day of missed lessons, and how to optimize the next days’ so as to go back on track. You tried not to be too miffed about it.

All of the thoughts of lesson plans and all of the lingering irritation at them being disrupted fled your brain at the sight of the first foot stepping out of the car. Shiny, varnished black shoes, showing off a milky ankle, and a shapely calf that look longer than any you’d seen (not that you made a point of looking at women’s legs all the time, but sometimes your eyes did wander…)

The skin on show was sadly cut off below the knee by the modest hemline of a woolen dress and it was at that point that Nevermore’s principal exited the car in all of her towering beauty, and your mind went completely blank, cause in all of their gossip everyone in Nevermore had forgotten to mention a small, key detail about the principal.

She was stunning.

The most beautiful woman you’d ever seen was standing before you, waving and smiling regally, as the whole school cheered. You almost didn’t notice all the jubilant ruckus, your eyes too busy raking all over her figure, as if trying to commit every single detail to memory. Her slender, elegant hands, wrapped in leather gloves. The perfectly-tailored coat, in the same fabric and color as the dress. The sparkle of her gold jewelry in the pale winter sun. The perfect proportion of her face, the way the bright red lipstick brought attention to her smile.

Her light eyes were roaming all over the crowd, as if taking stock of known faces and new entries. Finally her gaze fixed on you, and you could see a spark of amusement flicker on her face at seeing you.

You belatedly realized that you had been gaping at her like a fish out of water.

The day after you had still been beating yourself up about the humiliation at being caught slack-jawed staring at your boss when she visited you in your classroom after you were done with the day’s lessons.

She rapped against the doorframe, but strode in before you could say anything. You scrambled to your feet, awkwardly, while she covered the distance from the door to your desk in a couple of long steps. She was wearing another dress today, a tartan dress with a belt that cinched her waist, underlying the shape of her hips and chest while still being completely work-appropriate.

“So you’re the new teacher they have hired to replace poor Collins.” It wasn’t a question, but you nodded anyway. “I’m Larissa Weems. Usually, I have the final word on new hires. The board does a wonderful job but sometimes they lack a certain sort of practicality in their assessment of candidates, as it happened with the last hire. I wasn’t convinced by her spiel, but the board insisted and…well. I should have trusted my gut instinct.” Her eyes grew distant for a second, before focusing back on you with a hard gaze. You could see the speckles of lighter and darker blue mixing in her irises, and the perfectly applied make-up that highlighted their natural beauty. You tried to shake yourself out of her charm. She could be trying to fire you, and you were busy ogling her! That’s not the kind of person you were! You cleared your voice, trying to think up something to say to help your case.

“I…”

“I know you have been hired already, and I am sure you are a perfect fit for the role. I’d just like to have a little chat together, nothing too formal, just getting to know each other a little bit better.” She smiled as she said that, and while you were sure it was supposed to be a polite smile, you couldn’t help the shiver that went down your spine at that.

She looks like a predator closing in on prey , your mind unhelpfully suggested.

You swallowed, suddenly conscious of your sweaty palms and increasing heart rate.

“O-of course, ma'am." was all you could meekily say.

"Perfect." she purred. "Meet me at seven sharp at the Lilac Lounge. I'll have a private booth reserved."

To be continued...

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#dianneking writes #dianneking fanfiction #larissa weems #larissa weems fanfiction #gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie fanfiction #dragonmist fanfiction #cross posted on ao3 #larissa weems/reader #larissa weems x reader

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merakiui · 1 year

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Absolutely love the possessive ex Scaramouche ramble in tags, please feed us more of that.

Gladly!! :D

(cw: yandere, extremely toxic ex scara, modern au, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, stalking, coercion, obsession, forced marriage, violent/suicidal threats, manipulation, mentions of intoxication/alcohol, implied self-harm)

The two of you were what everyone calls ‘high school sweethearts.’ You met him in the cafeteria when the both of you were first years. Despite the scowl etched on his face, he looked lonely sitting all by himself while everyone was finding tables, old and new friends gathering in groups. He’d ignored you, even scooting further away when you’d attempt to move closer. Even though he seemed so averse to you, you remained, silently eating your lunch. Neither of you said anything, but you did introduce yourself. He scoffed under his breath.

You started to sit next to him for every lunch, and he continued to give you the silent treatment. You never pressed him for conversation, instead choosing to enjoy silence while you ate and admired him from the sidelines. He never looked at you, always facing forwards and toying with his chopsticks, bending them so far until they were ready to snap. Eventually, he seemed to grow accustomed to this routine because many weeks into the semester he turned to address you.

“Why do you always sit by me? Don’t you have anyone else to bother?”

“Maybe. But I don’t think anyone’s as mysterious as you are.”

“‘Mysterious…’ Yeah, whatever.”

That seemed to be the catalyst because, as sardonic as he was, he’d begun talking to you. And it wasn’t long until he started to warm up to you every lunch until the both of you were exchanging lighthearted banter. Your friendship would only grow from this point onwards until, at the end of your first year during a study session to prepare for finals, where you were both pulling an all-nighter at your house, he’d asked you out. And you said yes, and the both of you had gone from best friends to lovers within the span of a year. The both of you were each other’s first partner, so it made doing things as a couple even more exciting because neither of you had any experience with dates or holding hands or kissing.

Kuni wasn’t a bad boyfriend. In fact, he was very loyal and sweet. He’d stand up for you if anyone was being rude to you or scrutinizing your relationship with hateful eyes. The two of you were nearly inseparable. When you weren’t spending time together in school, you were out doing things together. And when you couldn’t meet up in person, you’d text or call, sometimes talking late into the evening about all sorts of things. You were so immersed in him that you failed to notice the red flags slowly raising over time. But looking back there were a few notable ones.

He never invited you to his house. In fact, you’d never even met his parents, whereas he’d been to your home so often that your family practically became his own. He hadn’t mentioned anything about his family, and if you tried to suggest going to his house for dinner so that he could introduce you to them he was quick to change the subject. For a while you’d push this, more curious than concerned, but eventually you’d drop it when it became clear that he wasn’t going to divulge anything on the matter. That had stung, but you snuffed those feelings in favor of focusing on other aspects of your relationship.

The second red flag was just how clingy he became when the both of you were in your third year, having been together for two solid years. You never noticed it before because you loved him, but when friends had pointed out how attached he seemed—and it was to rather unhealthy levels, according to their observations—to the point where you were the only person he’d ever formed a bond with while at school you started to see the cracks in what felt like the perfect relationship. He’d text you every single day, at every single hour, all the time. He’d call you nonstop, even more so when you didn’t immediately pick up.

The third red flag coincided with the second. When you couldn’t make it to your phone, he was quick to blame himself and those around him for being responsible for your deteriorating relationship. Did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me? Did those guys bother you again? They probably told you some stupid shit about me, right? Don’t listen to them. Hey, you’re not mad, right? Call me back. I need to talk to you. Just text me when you can, okay? (Name), please don’t leave me. I’ll fix whatever’s wrong. Just promise you’ll stay. Messages of these kinds were what you could expect to receive from him. He’d fluctuate between self-loathing to loathing those around him within seconds, shoving blame onto classmates who’d bully him for being that “weird emo kid with too many piercings” and anyone else who tried to, in his words, “come between you and me.”

By the end of your third year, you started to fall out of love. He was so very dedicated to this relationship, evidenced by how much effort and care he’d put into it, but his clingy behavior was stifling. You’d lost some of your own friends because he chased them away, and it felt like you couldn’t do anything without him breathing down your neck. If you wanted to go anywhere with a friend or two, Kuni had to be there to accompany you. If you looked at another for too long, he’d think you were cheating. If you didn’t text or call him at certain times, if you failed to pick up, or—Archons forbid—you left him on seen, he’d spiral.

Kuni had this habit of sounding dangerously self-destructive when he feared you were being unfaithful or he thought you were going to break up with him, which meant you’d have to sit on the phone for hours convincing him that you loved him, that you’d never leave him, that you’d always be here for him, that you were sorry for not responding, that he needs to calm down and please, please, please don’t do anything rash. Those phone calls were always so stressful. You cried a lot; you’d beg him to put the knife away when he’d threaten to use it on himself, on you, on anyone who might try to take you from him. And, after a few hours of this, he’d be back to his usual self, as if a switch had been flipped. You could hear his adoring smile in his voice when he spoke, when he’d lovingly whisper into the phone, “I’m happy you’re mine. I love you so much.” And you’d shakily parrot the affirmation, too frazzled to say or do anything else.

One of your best friends Rosalyne, who you’d befriended in the midst of all of this, had been so supportive the minute you spilled the truth to her. Kuni hated her the most because she wasn’t afraid of him. Because she’d shut him down when he tried to pull you away from her. Because she wouldn’t approve of any of his toxicity. Rosalyne would take you on shopping sprees, brunch dates, and jogs at the local park. She was plenty of good to outshine Kuni’s bad, and the more time you spent with her the clearer your head would become. The both of you had plenty of sleepovers together, and she let you rant your heart out while she listened. She’d tell you to break up with him, but you’d agonized over how terrifying that would be. You couldn’t bear to tell Kuni the truth—that you wanted to separate because things had turned so rotten—because you were so scared. Scared of him and what he might do.

Scared that if he really did take a blade to himself it would be your fault. He told you that a lot. That it would be your fault if he did anything. That his blood would be on your hands. You believed him every time.

By your final year, you’d already had a plan for university outlined and you’d started applying to a few in advance. You never told Kuni about any of them because you worried he might apply to each one in hopes of going to the same school as you. And when there was the dance for the graduating class and Kuni had asked you to it, you’d told him you were going with Rosalyne and a few other friends as a group. He didn’t like this, as expected, but you’d been so sick of him and his behaviors that you snapped and spilled everything to him. You’ll never forget the look on his face when you told him that you were done with the relationship and that you never wanted to see him again.

He looked as if he could lunge at you and tear you to bloody ribbons at any moment.

You graduated single and so very refreshed, and your summer had been filled with friends. Kuni didn’t message you at all, which was surprising considering you were certain he’d spam you relentlessly after the break-up. But he never did. In fact, you never saw him again. Graduation had come and gone, and now that you could recover from such a terrible relationship he was becoming less of a burden for you. For a while you were anxious. You kept expecting to receive a phone call or to see some news about Kuni, but neither ever came. Rosalyne told you to stop thinking about him. It would only make you even more paranoid and that wouldn’t do your mental health any good. You were so grateful to have her in your life, but most importantly you were glad Kuni failed to scare her away.

Now you’re a second year in college and things have only gotten so much better for you. You and Rosalyne still keep in touch despite going to different schools. She’d gone to a university in Snezhnaya, while you enrolled in one in Sumeru, and you’ve blotted Kuni from your mind. You’ve made a fresh group of friends while attending classes: criminal justice major Shikanoin Heizou, creative writing major Kaedehara Kazuha, musical therapy major Venti, botany major Tighnari, and so many more wonderful people who have all welcomed you into their circles.

So when Venti drags a familiar face to your usual weekend outing, which is really just a retreat to the forest for drinking and smoking, creeping cold settles into your bones. He looks awkward with Venti’s arm slung around him as the more bubbly of the two drags him towards the bonfire, where you sit with the others roasting marshmallows for s’mores, and it’s a look that is so uncharacteristic on him. What’s even weirder is how friendly everyone greets him—as if they all know him—and you’re completely lost when they turn to you and ask if you’ve met Kunikuzushi.

“No,” you lie through your teeth, forcing a pleasant smile and extending your hand for a stiff handshake, which Venti snickers at. “No, I’ve never met him before.”

Apparently, he’s in one of Venti’s classes—it’s a course he’s taking solely because he needs the credits. Tighnari knows him because they usually work the same shifts at the campus café. Kazuha knows him from his linguistics and philosophy classes. Heizou’s ate with him in the dining hall plenty of times now and they’re also taking the same psychology class. It feels so genuine and yet so fake at the same time. Too perfectly manufactured to be a mere coincidence. But you do your best to push past these suspicions, and when he sits across from you, smiling at you and saying how nice it is to meet you, the warping flames paint his face in devilish shadows. That’s what you think he is when he acts like a completely different person from how he was when you dated: a devil who’s good at being kind and outgoing, noisy and abrupt, and always so foul-mouthed, but in a way that makes him charming. Your friends are so enthralled. They love him and his sense of humor. They love his quick wit. They love how fun he is. And suddenly weekends spent in the forest aren’t so enjoyable.

You do your best to overcome your doubts. For a few months you’re on edge. How he even found you is a mystery. Surely he wouldn’t stalk you and enroll in the same college just to get revenge or…whatever vengeance he wants from you. But when he treats you to coffee, when he brings you and the others pastries every other morning, when he invites the lot of you to study at the library, when he tells the funniest stories while crossed and everyone’s giggling like schoolgirls it really feels like he’s…healthier. Like he’s turned a fresh page in his life and is starting anew. Like he’s changed for the better.

Perhaps he just doesn’t remember you. You’ve changed your style over the years, so it’s possible he’s simply forgotten your image and can’t place memories to your name. Eventually, after soothing yourself with these theories, you begin to accept his presence in the group. He fits in so flawlessly, as if he’s a missing piece to the puzzle, and you can’t believe you’re admitting this, but you like this version of Kuni. He’s confident, not cocky. He’s kind, not rude. He gives everyone space. In fact, he rarely texts frequently in the group chat. And he’s funny! He’s so funny. You don’t think the Kuni from your past was ever as funny as the Kuni who regales everyone with lighthearted stories of how he once took in a stray cat that turned out to belong to his neighbor or how his old job had the strangest customers.

Maybe he truly did change. Maybe all of these coincidences really are coincidences. Maybe it’s for the best that you leave the past in the past.

Finals season looms, and the group hasn’t had time to meet up outside of class. Venti has tried to persuade everyone to come study at his apartment. His roommate won’t care (yes, he will. Xiao hates it when everyone gets blackout drunk and he has to wake everyone come morning), but if you’ve known Venti long enough you’ll know there is no studying that happens at these study sessions. This is probably the reason why he’s had to repeat a year.

With everyone’s schedules packed with academics, it’s difficult to find a time where everyone can get together to study. You think you might just be better off studying on your own, but Kuni’s message of you wanna pull an all-nighter for these lame af finals together?? accompanied with a photo of snacks and coffee, any thoughts of studying alone instantly vanish.

This is how you find yourself in his dorm, sprawled on his bed while he sits on the floor, whacking your dangling feet when they get too close to him. His roommate Albedo is currently out tutoring a few students at the library and won’t be back until much later, so it’s just you, Kuni, and a pile of textbooks and notes. You’ve hung out with Kuni a few times and he was great company during each. You’ve also fallen asleep in his dorm before, when you’d come over to binge a show the both of you enjoy, and you’d lost track of time and had slipped into a dream halfway through the marathon. You’d woken the next morning with Kuni looming over you, grinning deviously and holding an uncapped marker. He’d leaned down and whispered, “You drool in your sleep,” and you’d swatted at him and groused about how you were sleeping so peacefully when he just had to ruin your sleep (and your face) with his antics. And then there was that time when you were so drunk at that one party and you could hardly stand, he’d been there to help. He even stayed with you for the rest of that night, offering his assistance when you became nauseous or needed water or a snack until you passed out.

Despite your initial apprehensions, you consider him a friend. He’s no one nearly as close as Rosalyne or your other friends. He’s just a mutual friend, someone you’ll spend time with when you feel like it, but you don’t truly need him in your life. That, and part of you still struggles to trust him after all of the stress and unhealthy obsession he subjected you to.

“Kuni,” you whine, lifting your head from the textbook. “Can you get me some water? I’m thirsty.”

“Do I look like your maid?” he snaps, immersed in organizing his notes. “Get it yourself.”

“I’m picturing it now and you’re in a frilly dress and—”

“Forget I asked.” Setting his notebook down with an exaggerated sigh, he crosses the distance to the mini fridge and withdraws a bottle of water.

Grinning, you slide off of his bed and reach for it with a grateful hum. He smirks and takes a step back, holding it away from you.

“Seriously…”

Rolling your eyes, you lunge for it and he side-steps you with the practiced grace of a cat. You brace yourself against the wall and swipe at him. Again, he dodges, unscrewing the cap and shaking the bottle teasingly.

“I think I’ll take a sip for myself. All of this studying has left me so parched.”

“No fair! That’s mine!”

“Is it?” He pulls it away from his lips to observe the bottle and feigns surprise. “That’s weird. I don’t see your name on it.”

“Look closer!” you exclaim, but just as he’s about to humor you you pounce, tackling him to the ground—there’s a beanbag cushion that breaks your fall—and the water spills all over the both of you in the midst of the tumble. A slew of colorful words stick in Kuni’s throat and your laughter rings out melodiously. You seize his wrist and hold it down while reaching for the bottle in his other hand, where there’s still some water left. He struggles halfheartedly, relinquishing the bottle with a disinterested scoff, and you pull away from him to down what’s left.

While crushing the plastic bottle into a ball, you notice something on your palm—the palm that had grabbed Kuni’s wrist—and it takes a minute before the skin tone-colored substance registers in your mind.

Concealer.

You peer at him and notice that he’s cradling his arm, and confusion sprouts.

“So funny,” he spits with a hollow laugh. “You owe me a new beanbag if this one’s ruined.”

“Hey, hold on. What’s with the—”

“Forget it. You got your water, so let’s get back to studying. Or do you no longer want to be a perfect student?”

Without thinking, you grab his arm as he’s standing and when you look at his forearm you can see where the water’s started to wash the concealer away. Curiously, you scrub at it while he tries to yank his arm away, but when you unearth a dozen scars littering his wrist and climbing the length of his arm that creeping cold from before returns.

And suddenly you’re brought back to those phone calls—the ones where he’d threaten suicide and murder—and you stumble back as if you’ve been burned, half-expecting to hear those threats once more. Kuni’s staring at his wrist, his features twisted in grim disapproval, and for a moment you think he looks…hurt. Or maybe that’s sadness you see. Whatever emotion it was, it doesn’t linger because a quiet chuckle slips past his lips, and the sound is so very frigid it has your blood crystallizing.

“It really hurt when you said you never wanted to see me again.” Kuni peers down at you, and his eyes that had once been so bright and filled with light are dull and dark. “But nothing hurts more than loving you.”

You open your mouth to say something—anything—but the words won’t come. You’re rooted to the ground, horror slinking through your body and rendering you immovable. Your heart is in your throat, pounding so loudly it’s practically a drum, and a cold sweat washes over you.

“Each time I found myself hating you, I thought it was odd because I love you so much. I can’t possibly hate the one I’ve loved all this time.” He scowls. “But loving you hurts. Loving you feels like chewing glass and drinking poison. Loving you isn’t fair because while you moved forward with your ‘friends,’ I was forced to stay behind and pick up the pieces of what was left of you. So for every moment I couldn’t stand you, I tallied it on myself so that I’ll never forget the times I loved you so much I hated you.”

This can’t be happening, you’re thinking, curling your hands into trembling fists. He changed. He changed, right? This isn’t the same Kuni from before. This isn’t…

“And when I saw how well you seemed to be doing without me, I hated you even more.” Without warning, he’s grabbed your arm and hoisted you up. You open your mouth to scream, but no sound comes—not that anything could when he’s pulled a switchblade from his pocket and poised the pointed tip at your jugular. “You have poor taste in friends. Those guys suck.”

Tutting, he shakes his head at you like a parent might when scolding a child, and says, “Do you know how fucking tiring it was pretending? You think I care about pastries and stupid campfire stories? You really think I’d ever want to associate myself with that sorry lot?”

“K-Kuni, please let go of me. I… I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were—I’m sorry. So please just…”

“And then the first time you see me after all these years apart and you had the gall to lie to my face! ‘I’ve never met him before.’ Bullshit. You just didn’t want any of your loser friends to know our history, right? Because you’re ashamed to have known me, right?”

“That’s not it! I… I was just—I didn’t… I was… I just…”

“I… I… I…” he mocks, shoving you down onto the beanbag. It dips under the sudden weight, and you sink further into it when he points the blade at you. “Stop tripping over your tongue. I should be the one near tears! You cast me aside and then forgot all about me. You abandoned me when I needed you most.” His voice cracks at that last sentence, and your heart skips erratically.

“That’s not what happened! We needed space. I needed space. You were being too—” You stop yourself, unsure of how to phrase it. Too controlling? Too dangerous? Too scary?

“Lucky for you, I’m willing to overlook these past...slights.” The blade twirls effortlessly in his grasp, and you heave a relieved breath when he’s no longer pointing it in your direction. “Marry me and we’ll forget all about the past. We’ll start over.”

His demand almost stops your heart altogether. You stare up at him, mouth agape, and mumble a disbelieving, “What?”

“You heard me.” He seems to soften with his next words, and for a moment he looks and sounds like the Kuni who hangs out with you and your friends. The harmlessly fun Kuni who always takes such good care of you. “You’re the only one I’ll ever love, so let’s get married.”

“K-Kuni, I can’t... I really can’t...”

Within seconds the blade has found itself on his wrist, pressing into delicate flesh. Not enough to cut, but if he applies more force you’ll definitely see blood. You choke on a horrified gasp.

“What was that?” He raises his brow at you, challenging you with a calm smile.

Your mind reels in an effort to conjure a plan. What can you even do? If you take the blade from him, will he turn his anger on you? Will you have to wrestle him into submission? And if you do manage to get out of his dorm, will anyone believe you? He’s painted himself in such a pleasant light. Your friends love and trust him! So what can you say? And if there isn’t any solid proof, no one will even entertain bringing the authorities into this mess.

“I’m waiting, (Name). Are you really going to make me add another tally? Do you really want me to hate you again? Oh, but maybe I should start marking you! We can add a slice for each time you failed to love me. That way we’ll both look like used cutting boards.”

You need help, you want to say, but the words escape you.

Instead, you nod hastily and say breathlessly, “Okay, yes! I’ll marry you!” Swallowing your horror, you glance at the blade as it’s lifted from his skin. Thankfully, there isn’t a cut. “I... I’ll marry you, Kuni. So... So please don’t hurt yourself. Please.”

It feels like you’ve been strangled for an eternity, so when he finally pockets the blade the air in your lungs returns and you collapse against the beanbag, chest rising and falling in short, panicked breaths.

“Good.” He bends down to your height, grips your chin with cold fingers, and forces you to meet his adoring stare. “We’ll look at rings tomorrow. Or maybe you’d prefer bracelets instead? I can be flexible but only for you, so you’d better be grateful.”

You swallow rising bile and nod. “T-Thank you.” You’re not sure why you’re thanking him when he hardly deserves it, but it feels like the right thing to say to ease the tension.

Kuni’s eyes sparkle, no longer a void of endless darkness, and when he leans in to capture your lips in his your heart sinks. You really can’t run from your past, can you?

#genshin chit chat #yandere-romanticaa #yandere scaramouche #scara says he needs you but what he really needs is a therapist first and foremost #adding heizou into the mix!!! he probably takes notice of your change in behavior #and confronts you one on one to ask if everything's okay #and he looks so concerned and his voice is so soft and so you break and spill everything #and he nods while he takes in all of this information before offering to help #he knows the law (he's studying it after all!) so he can help you #but what heizou doesn't tell you is that the law might crush one evil person but it can easily protect other evils :)#especially him who is oh-so-honorable and sweet #you'd never know he wants to be more than just friends #and that he has a journal detailing your every move #but also i like the idea of heizou being a genuine friend and the two of you grow closer while trying to find ways to get scara caught #and taken away from you for good #but yan!heizou just hits so deliciously orz #also also!! adding in rosalyne~~ she went to the same uni as kuni (in snezhnaya)#but when he finally found out where you were he transferred #and rosa only realized they went to the same school when she found out from ajax (who also attends the same uni)#kuni probably worked part-time as a hospital receptionist before he transferred schools #and he's pretty sure the doctor there is a serial killer or he's just on the border of criminally insane (this is dottore after all)#(me looking at every way i can insert each harbinger into this au >:D)

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