#trying to go through their page you'd see it was actually a mistake

[tonyspank]

I WANNA BE YOURS

Summary: Months after admiring the girl from afar, you finally begin your relationship together.

Warnings: smut and idk…

Words: 9.3k

A/N: Longest imagine ive ever wrote. So please bare with me i did not edit or revise this

Vada Cavell x Footballer!GP! Reader

You walk through the crowded hallways, a black bookbag hanging off your shoulder. You look around and see the people you know, and those you don't. You make your way to your classroom, immediately recognized by your best friend. "There she is!" He shouts from his seat, raising his hands in the air.

"Ethan... it's like eight in the morning. Why are you shouting?" He laughs and pats the seat next to him. You take your seat and start to unpack your bag. "Coach cancelled practice for today. Something about giving us time to mentally prepare for the game."

You raise an eyebrow in surprise. "That's so unlike him." Ethan nodded in agreement. "Yeah, but I'm not complaining. It's nice to have a day off."

"Wanna hang out after school?" You ask, placing your notebook on your desk. The brown-haired boy leans into his chair, a smug smile on his face. "No, can do."

A smile makes its way on your face. "What's that look for?"

He shrugs, "Oh, nothing. It's just that Mia Reed and I are going to this Taylor Lift concert together."

You snort at the mess up of the Singer's name. "You mean Swift?" He rolls his eyes. "Yes, that's what I said, Taylor Swift." You shake your head, amused. "Just don't make that mistake in front of Mia."

Ethan has had a crush on Mia since middle school. But he's always been too scared to talk to her, so he'd always comment and support her dance videos on Instagram. He would often try to find ways to run into her, but he could never find the courage to talk to her.

"Wait," You furrow your eyebrows, turning to Ethan completely. "How did you even finesse a date with Mia Reed?" Ethan smiles and shrugs. "What do they say again? Drunk words are sober thoughts?"

You shake your head and laugh. "I was drunk out of my mind during Max's spring break party, and then I saw Mia... and I just went for it." You had seen Mia around school but had never actually talked to her.

You were surprised that she even agreed to go out with him. Ethan could be surprisingly daring when he wanted to be. "You're a brave guy," he holds up a finger. "A brave drunk guy!"

"Also you'd never believe who else I seen at Max's party." "Who?" you asked, curious. He grinned, "Fucking baby Adam Sandler, Vada!"

You stared in disbelief. "You're such a liar." He shakes his head, sitting up in his seat. "Bro! I swear to god! She was there! In her oversized clothes and everything."

You narrowed your eyes at him, still skeptical. He laughs at your facial expression, "Maybe if you had gone then you could've seen yourself." He says in a sing-song tone.

You shake your head and turn away, still unconvinced. He laughs again, "Well, believe me, or not, I'm telling the truth." He shrugs.

Your teacher then walks into the classroom. You glance back at him, trying to figure out if he's telling the truth. He winks at you and turns away, leaving you unsure. As your teacher brings the lesson your mind wanders off.

Vada Cavell, whose last name you only found out due to her Instagram page. Kind of like Ethan, you've been liking Vada for a while but never built up the courage to talk to her or ask her out.

It's been months of admiring her from afar. She was beautiful in person and you found yourself totally mesmerized by her. You liked the way she dressed, unbothered by how anyone else thought of it, you liked the way her smile lit up the room.

You just had to talk to her, but you hesitated. You felt like you could never measure up to her. You wondered if she could ever like you, too.

You only seen Vada talk to her friends from the beginning of the year. It was Nick, Mia, and Quinton. You felt like an outsider, not part of their group.

You were too shy to approach her, and you were afraid of getting rejected. You also felt like you were the total opposite of Vada's type, so you decided to stay on the sidelines and admire her from a distance. You wanted to get to know her but you weren't sure how to start a conversation.

The rest of the day went by fast. Before you knew it you were back home, greeted by your cat and your mom. "Hey, honey. You're home early."

Your mom speaks up from the kitchen, while your cat rubs itself against your leg. Taking off your jacket and bookbag, you smile and reply. "Yeah, coach cancelled practice." You give your cat a few scratches before heading off to the kitchen to join your mom.

"Really? That's surprising." You laugh, peeking into the pot your mom was stirring. "Yeah, that's what I said."

"What are you making?" you ask, taking a seat at the kitchen table. "Spaghetti." She smiles, adding stuff to the pot. You feel a wave of warmth wash over you as the familiar smell of your mom's cooking fills the kitchen.

You watch as she expertly moves around the kitchen, adding ingredients to the pot. "I have to work late tonight, so I figured I'll start dinner early." She stirs the contents and you can smell the delicious aromas wafting from the pot. She gives you a smile, and you are grateful that she is willing to take the time to make dinner for the both of you.

"Ma, you should be resting. I can cook dinner." She waves her hand at you dismissively. "I want to do this. After all, it's my job to take care of you."

She pours some more ingredients into the pot, and the smell of the food intensifies. "What if I got a job? So you don't have to work late shifts anymore?" You suggest, a frown on your face.

She pauses for a moment, before shaking her head. "No, you need to focus on your studies and football. You worked hard for your starting spot, honey." She smiles sadly at you, before stirring the pot and humming a song.

She stops, "Now, go take a shower. It's almost finished." You nod and walk away, feeling a bit defeated. You know she only wants the best for you, but it's still hard to hear. You take a deep breath and head for the bathroom.

You take a long shower, letting the hot water wash away the disappointment. You remind yourself that you are doing your best and that will have to be enough.

Taking a deep breath, you step out of the shower and head back into the kitchen. After eating dinner with your mom, you begin scrolling through Instagram and TikTok. You soon find yourself laughing at memes and videos, allowing yourself to forget the stresses of the day for a few moments.

Hours pass and you soon realize it's time for bed. You turn off your phone and crawl into bed, just as you're about to drift off to sleep, your phone dings. It was a message from Ethan.

ethan - best fucking concert ever

ethan - im officially a swiftie

ethan - taylor's songs are anthems for my life. everything she does is iconic. she's my queen.

you - i'm guessing it went well with mia?

ethan - well? it went amazing bro

ethan - she wanted to hang out tmr but she has plans w adam sandler

you - oh thats a shame

ethan - omg i jus got the best idea evr

you - which is

ethan - A DOUBLE DATE

you - ethan no.

You place down your phone, and it vibrates from the amount of messages you're receiving. You lay back down, but of course, your phone starts ringing. And it's Ethan, obviously.

You sigh, but you pick up the call anyway. "Listen to me! It's a great idea!" He shouts through the speakers of your phone, You groan and roll your eyes, but you can't help but be amused. You reply, "Okay, I'm listening."

Ethan begins to explain his idea in more detail, "Okay look! If I text Mia, right now saying what if me and you both go to the arcade with them, she'll be like sure! Then that means I get to hang out with Mia and you finally get to meet Vada."

Ethan smiled, knowing he had found the perfect plan. You chew the inside of your cheeks, debating if you should agree to Ethan's plan. You take a deep breath and finally give in, deciding that this could be the start of something good.

He quickly texts Mia, and after a few moments, she replies agreeing. "Looks like we got ourselves a double date." Ethan and Mia started to chat excitedly about the date, and you couldn't help but feel a bit of excitement as well. You hadn't been on a date in a while and it felt like a new adventure. But was this actually a date, or just a way to hang out with friends? You weren't sure.

You woke up to a shout of your name. You quickly scrambled out of bed and rushed to the living room. There was your mom standing in the doorway with a wide grin on her face and Ethan right beside her.

"Ethan's here." You send a tired smile to your mom, "How was work?" She shrugs, "It was alright. Come here and give Ethan a hug." You side-eye Ethan, who opens his arms wide, a goofy smile on his face.

"C'mon Y/N/N! Hug me!" You reluctantly walk over and give Ethan a hug. He squeezes you tightly and laughs. Your mom smiles, watching the two of you before turning to head upstairs. Ethan lets you go and gives you a pat on the back.

You take a few steps back and he grins at you. You smile back, "Why are you here so early?" Ethan shrugs, "Your mom said it was okay. Plus it's 3 o'clock in the afternoon." You nod, and Ethan takes a seat on the couch.

He looks around and then turns back to you, "So, what have you been up to today?" You shrug, "Not much. Sleeping."

"I can tell," he motions his hands above his head, basically telling you your hair was a mess. You laugh and run your hand through your hair, trying to tame it. You look back at Ethan and smile, "What about you? What have you been up to?" He grins, "Talking to Mia."

"Oh, really?" You raise your eyebrows. "And what did she have to say?" He shrugs. "She said that they'll be at the arcade at around six."

You nod, sitting down on the couch as well. "Wanna watch The Walking Dead?" He nods and smiles. "Sure, let's watch it!" You grab the remote and search for the show getting comfortable on the couch. The episode starts with a bang, and you both settle in to watch.

Two hours later, you two are still glued to the screen, eagerly awaiting the next plot twist. Once the episode ends, you turn to your friend and say, "Shit! What time is it?"

Ethan, eyes wide, checks his watch and gasps. "We have to go, now!" He exclaims. You both jump up but you pause, "Wait! I gotta shower, do my hair-"

"Less talking and more doing!" Ethan pushes you to the stairs, and you begin sprinting up them, almost running into your mom. She steps aside to let you pass, a mix of surprise and amusement on her face as she watches you go.

Quickly you take a shower and change into a clean set of clothes. Not before fixing your hair and spraying on cologne, you head downstairs, ready and excited. Ethan is waiting for you, a satisfied smirk on his face, and together you leave.

When you arrive at the arcade you see Mia and Vada. Mia's smiling and waving excitedly at you both while Vada kicks a nearby rock. You both walk over and Mia gives Ethan a big hug.

Vada stands off to the side, her arms crossed but a small smile on her face. You look around and see the arcade bustling with activity, and you know you're in for a night of fun. "Hey, guys!" Ethan says, smiling. You look at Vada, and your heart beats like crazy.

"Hey, Vada." She smiles. "Ready for a night of fun?" she asks, her eyes twinkling. You can only nod as you follow the couple into the arcade. Almost immediately, Ethan and Mia go off and do their own thing leaving you and Vada alone.

Vada points to a game ahead of you. "Let's see who can get the highest score," she says with a mischievous smile. You nod and the two of you start to play. After a few minutes of intense competition, Vada ends up with the highest score.

She laughs and celebrates her victory, and you can't help but smile widely. "If I knew you were such a sore winner I would've tried harder." Vada gives you a playful shove and giggles. "You'll have to try harder next time!" she says. The two of you soon move on to the next game.

In watching you press the start button, Vada admits, "I'm bad at basketball." You pick up a ball, looking at her smiling. "That's ok, I'm pretty bad at it too," you reply. She furrows her eyebrows, "I thought you played basketball?" You shoot the ball, and it doesn't even hit the rim.

"Actually-" She starts, and you let out a loud laugh. She joins in your laughter. "I play football," you say continuing the shoot the remaining balls in front of you.

"But like aren't you supposed to at least have good accuracy? A blind person could shoot better than you." You chuckle, "I'm more of a receiver, not a quarterback." You shoot the last ball which ends up bouncing out of the cage from hitting the rim.

You catch the ball easily, placing it down. She shakes her head and grins. "I stand by my statement. You're terrible." She presses the button, picking up the basketball in front of her. "Watch and learn."

The first one she shoots goes in, "Lucky shot." You mumble, and she smiles in response. The second one also goes in, and the third and fourth too. "You lied to me. You said you sucked." She laughs, and sets up the next shot. "I never said I was suck, I just said I was bad." She takes the shot and it swishes through the net. "What the fuck?"

She turns to you and grins. "You see? I told you I was bad, not suck." You can only stare in amazement as she lines up the next shot and scores again. She laughs and walks away, leaving you in awe. "You lied!" You yell out as you follow her. She laughs again. "I'll let you in on a secret."

She stops and turns around, her face serious. "In order to score all the shots, you have to aim for the back of the rim. And then once you do that, calculate how much power you're putting into your shot. That way you'll be able to get a better idea of the trajectory the ball will take. And you'll have a better chance of making the shot." You squint your eyes at the girl, tilting your head a bit.

She bites her lip in response. Adorable, she thinks. "How do you know all of that? Or like, how'd you even figure that out?" She shrugs, a smirk playing on her lips. "I came here before with Quinton." Your eyes widen in surprise. "Really? You two are...close?"

"We're friends." Is all she says. She looks away and takes a deep breath. "But yeah, he's a good friend." She smiles and looks back up at you, her eyes twinkling. "Wanna get something to drink?"

You nod and smile, and the two of you head to grab a drink. "Look, I'm gonna show you how to make the best slushie you'll ever fucking taste in your life." You grab a cup, joining Vada in front of the slushie machine.

Vada begins to explain the steps, and you find yourself getting more and more invested in the process. You join in, and together you prepare the perfect slushie. You take a sip and it's everything Vada promised. "Wow."

"Right!" Vada grins with satisfaction. Your eyes look around the arcade and you notice Ethan and Mia shooting water blasters at the target together. "You know, they're kind of cute together." Vada looks at the two, nodding in agreement. "It was bound to happen eventually. She's been crushing on the guy since sixth grade."

You furrow your eyebrows, your head snapping at the shorter girl next to you. "Really? Ethan too!" Vada laughs, a smile on her face. "That's crazy. It's been obvious to everyone but them." She turns back to the two, watching them laugh and shoot water blasters in sync. "They just need to tell each other how they feel."

"I mean...It's not that simple." You say, taking another sip of your slushie. Vada shrugs. "It's worth a try. I mean, what have they got to lose?" You shake your head. "I don't know. It's a risk they might not want to take."

You're beginning to wonder if you're talking about Ethan or yourself. Vada looks at you with a knowing look. "You never know. Sometimes taking a risk can be the best thing to do." You take a deep breath, considering her words. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"I'm glad you agreed to come, I would've been third-wheeling the entire night." You laugh, "I'm glad I came too." You never know. Sometimes taking a risk can be the best thing to do. Vada's words basically repeat in your head, "I uh, I've actually been wanting to talk to you for a while." You admit.

She looks surprised but pleased. "Really? I had no idea!" You nod and smile, feeling relieved that you finally said it. "Yeah! I just didn't know how to approach you." She smiles, her dimples appearing on her cheeks. "Dude, it's not like I would've bit you if you tried to make a conversation with me."

You both laugh and the tension between you dissipates. She looks at you, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "So, what do you want to talk about?" You shrug, using your straw to stir around your drink. "Favorite color?"

"Easy. All of them." She smiles and takes a sip of her drink. "I guess I can't argue with that. Favourite movie?" She pauses for a moment, thinking. "It's hard to pick just one, but I think it's The Staircase. I watched it a thousand times." You hum, "I've never watched it before."

"Wait, what?" She shakes her head in disbelief. "You have to watch it. It's a classic!" You shrug. "I'll watch it. What's it about?" She grins. "It's about this white guy who murders his second wife, and probably his first wife, and gets away with both."

You look at her, surprised. "That sounds intense. Is it a true story?" She laughs. "No, it's a movie. You'll love it. What's yours?"

You open your mouth to speak but she cuts you off. "Lemme guess. Tom Brady Documentary: True Stories." You start to laugh. "Yeah, that's it. It's a classic." She laughs. "See, I knew it!"

"But actually, it has to be How To Build a Better Boy." You say, watching her face to see her reaction. She looks shocked, "Wait that one sappy Disney movie?"

"It's not sappy." She laughs, "Yeah, right. I'm sure it's full of life lessons and cheesy dialogues." You smirk, "Maybe, but it's still worth watching."

She shakes her head, "I don't believe you. There's no way it can be that good." You shrug, "Trust me. I promise you won't regret it." Vada takes another sip of her drink, only to realize she's finished it. She looks up at you with a questioning gaze.

You smile and offer her some of your drink. "Trust me how I trusted you to make this drink." Vada hesitates, then takes the drink from you. "Okay. I'll watch it tonight, and then first thing in the morning I'll tell you if it was good or bad."

You nod and watch her take a sip. "You'd need my number for that." She smiles, takes out her phone and hands it to you. You add your number, then hand it back. "I'll be waiting for your call then." You wink and she laughs, taking another sip of the drink.

Ethan and Mia make their way toward you two, smiles on their faces. "You guys ready to go?" You both nod, and you all make your way out of the arcade. You all walk out, the cool night air bringing a sense of peace. You and the girl share a glance, and she smiles. You both head to your respective cars and drive off in different directions.

"How was it with Vada?" You reply, "It was great. She's a really cool girl." Ethan smiles and you ask him how it went with Mia. "We had our first kiss." Ethan's face lit up with excitement. "WHEN?"

He shyly looks away and replies, "Just a few minutes ago. You missed it being too oo la la with Vada." You roll your eyes smiling and give him a high five. Ethan grins and says, "It was amazing." He then pulls out of the parking lot, turning on his blinker and making a left towards your place.

Meanwhile, in Mia's car, she and Vada are talking about you. Mia teases Vada about her crush on you. Vada blushes and laughs, still a little embarrassed. "I mean she's cute and I can tell she really likes you."

Vada looked away, still blushing. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, laughing. Mia just smiled and shook her head. As soon as Vada got home she was questioned by her mom.

Vada quickly changed the subject, not wanting her mom to know what had happened. Vada's mother gave her a knowing look but didn't press the issue. Instead, she just said, "Well, I'm glad you had a good time." Vada smiled and nodded, grateful that her mom hadn't pushed the matter any further.

She fell against the couch, hesitating before turning on How To Build a Better Boy, your favourite movie. The movie started and Vada felt a sense of relief as her mom left the room. She curled up in her blanket and let herself get lost in the movie.

"Perfect boy but his name is Albert! And how'd he get a car...plus why'd he just throw his keys to a random guy?" Vada mumbles to herself, confused at the logic of the movie.

She giggled at the absurdity of it all, hoping the movie would eventually make sense. Despite the silliness, she couldn't help but be drawn in by the characters and their stories. Vada watched with anticipation as the movie unfolded, eager to find out what would happen next.

Until Amelia comes down, standing in front of the TV. Vada groans at her little sister, "Dude. I'm trying to watch something." Amelia turns to her with a small frown, "I wanna watch too." Vada reluctantly scoots over to make room for her, rolling her eyes in an attempt to hide her growing smile. They cuddle up on the couch, ready for whatever the movie had in store.

The sisters watched the movie, laughing and pointing out silly things until it was time for bed. Vada tucked Amelia in, giving her a hug and a kiss on the forehead, before heading off to dreamland herself.

When you woke up in the morning the first thing you did was grab your phone, checking for any recent messages. You felt a wave of disappointment as you saw that no one had messaged you. You decided to go downstairs to make breakfast.

Your mom had already left for work, so it was just you and your cat, Goose. You started making a simple omelet. It was one of your go-to recipes. But gosh, was it delicious.

As you ate the omelet, you had a moment of peace, just you and your cat, and the warm and comforting taste of the omelet. Goose jumps onto the table, meowing in your face. "Goose down."

Goose meows in protest, but eventually jumps off the table. You take a deep breath, savouring the last bite of the omelet. You look down at Goose and smile, "I'll make sure to give you a treat later." Goose purrs in response, contentedly rubbing against your leg. You get up to clean the kitchen, and your phone goes off in the middle of the dishes.

xxx-xxx-xxxx - ok. i'd admit it's a very good movie

You smile, she had finally texted you.

you - see it's not sappy, but a work of art

vada - i wouldnt take it that far

you - lol, i still have to watch the stairless

Three dots appear on the screen, then disappear. You frown, continuing to wash the dishes. You pause and turn off the water, drying your hands. You pick up your phone again, Vada had texted back.

vada - we could watch it at my place

you - when?

vada - today if u want

you - ok sure

you - send me ur address

You ring the doorbell, shifting your weight from one leg to the other anxiously. "Mom! Do not open the-" The muffled voice stops once the door is swung open. You stand there, frozen, unable to move. The blonde woman smiles at you, "Hi! You must be Vada's friend. Mia is it?" You shake your head, hearing a groan come from inside the house. "Mom, this is Y/N."

You smile awkwardly, feeling embarrassed. Mom chuckled and stepped aside, motioning for you to come in. You nervously step inside, smiling at the woman who let you in.

Vada sends you a wave which you return, placing your hands in your pocket. You take a deep breath as you take in your surroundings. The home was warm and inviting, with decorations all around the place.

You follow Vada, who leads you to the living room. She offers you a seat and you sit down, feeling somewhat more at ease. "Sorry about that." You wave it off, "It's fine. She seems sweet."

"If sweet means extremely noisy and out of touch with this generation, then yes. She's very sweet." Vada sighs and sits down on the couch next to you. You can't help but laugh at her comment. She shakes her head and smiles. "She means well, I suppose." She says with a shrug.

You lean further back into the red couch, as Vada picks up the remote turning on The Stairless. Vada and you sit back and watch the movie, exchanging comments and laughs. Time passes quickly, and soon enough you both find yourselves lost in the story. "Off the bat, I knew he killed his first wife." You laugh, slightly turning your head to Vada. "I'm telling you, he did it!" Vada exclaimed.

You both chuckle and then continued watching the movie. As the movie plays, the closer you two get. Now leaning into each other, you can feel the warmth of Vada's body as your hands occasionally brush against each other.

Your conversations become more meaningful, and the laughs become genuine. The movie fades away, and all that's left is the two of you, living in the moment.

As the credits rolled, you both looked at each other in amazement. "That was one hell of a movie," you say. "I told you. That movie is the shit." You sit up a bit, your shoulder brushing against Vadas. "Okay, rate How to Build a Better Boy and then I'll rate this."

Vada takes a moment to think, then finally responds. "It was an 8/10 for me," she says. "I really enjoyed it. How about mine?" You pause to consider the movie before finally saying, "Hmm, I'd give it a 9/10. Definitely worth watching again."

Vada grins. "I knew you'd like it." She leans back against the couch and stretches her arms out. "I'm glad we got to watch it together." You give her a smile and nod in agreement.

You give her a smile and nod in agreement. You both take a few minutes to relax in the comfortable silence. Then, you break it.

"I'm really craving one of your slushies." Vada laughs. "Wanna get one?" You nod and she jumps up, pulling you up from the couch. "Let's get Albert!" Furrowing your eyebrows, you both head out the door. "Albert?"

Vada laughs again. "I was thinking about it and you literally are the fully human version of him, except you don't really look alike." You roll your eyes, but you can't help but laugh. "Albert's a douche, I'm not a douche."

Vada snorts as you unlock your chair door, getting inside together. "Albert is not a douche. He's a sweet young boy who cares about his girlfriend, and he's really good at football."

You can't help but smile, shaking your head. "Yeah, okay, maybe he's not a douche." Vada grins as you start the engine. "Exactly. So therefore you're Albert." You chuckle and put the car in gear. "Are you trying to say that I'm perfect and really good at football?"

She laughs."No, I'm saying you're not a douche. Now let's go! The slurpies are calling my name." You roll your eyes and drive away, the two of you laughing as you go.

Since that day you've been texting Vada non-stop. She doesn't seem to mind it either. You feel like you can talk to her about anything. And to add to that, you've also been talking during school. Vada had even come over to meet your cat, when your mom was at work. You two have become really close over the past few weeks. Every day you look forward to talking to her and spending time with her. You can't help but feel like you are falling for her.

"Are you coming to my game tonight?" Vada smiled at you and nodded. You felt your heart flutter. You knew for sure, you were starting to fall in love. "Yeah, of course. Even though I barely understand football." You laugh at her response, leaning into the lockers. She smiles back, her eyes twinkling. "I'll explain the rules to you," you say, your voice soft as it can be. Vada can feel her heart skip a beat, and you smile at her.

She looked away for a moment, then back into your eyes. "But if you don't carry four people on your shoulders and score like Albert, then I'm leaving mid-game." She jokes causing you to smile. You tried to think of a witty reply, but all you could do was laugh. "I'll try my best."

She smiled and put her hand on your shoulder. "That's all I ask." She patted your shoulder and walked away. You watched her leave, feeling content with your exchange. Ethan, who you didn't notice was behind you places a hand on your shoulder.

You jump in surprise. "Jesus!" He laughs. "You should relax, man. I didn't mean to scare you." He removed his hand and stepped back. You take a deep breath and let it out, relieved.

"What were you guys talking about?" You shrug, "Nothing important. She's coming to our game tonight." Ethan's eyes widen in shock, "Are you serious?" "Yeah, why?" You reply, slightly confused. He shakes his head, "Nothing, just... Mia asked herself and Vada said no."

"Hm..." You hum, unsure of what to take from the situation. "I don't know maybe she changed her mind last second." A goofy smile makes its way onto Ethan's face, "Or maybeeeeee... she likes you."

You look away, blushing. "No way," you say, shaking your head. "She's definitely not interested in me that way." Ethan gives you a knowing look. "You've been talking for weeks. I've seen the way she looks at you," he says. "You should ask her out dude." You hesitate, not sure if you should take his advice.

The bell rings, and you look at Ethan with a smirk. "Saved by the bell." Ethan rolls his eyes and laughs. "Just ask her," he says, and you cover your ears humming as you walk through the hallway.

"Check, check! Elvis, Elvis!" Ethan yells. You look at the cornerback in front of you, and give Ethan a thumbs up. You take a deep breath and get into your stance. You know that if you can get past the cornerback, and potentially win your team some yards. You focus on the cornerback and wait for the snap.

The snap comes and you explode off the line. You easily beat the cornerback and break into the open field. You know you have a chance to make a big play and you sprint as fast as you can. Ethan throws the ball to you, and you catch it successfully.

Only making it to the 45-yard line before you're tackled. The crowd erupts in cheers as you get up from the tackle, smiling. You know you've made a huge play and energized your team. As you jog back to the huddle, you can feel the momentum shifting in your favour.

The team regroups and prepares for the next play. Everyone is pumped up and ready to take it to the end zone. Ethan calls the next play and the team breaks the huddle, ready for action. Ethan snaps the ball, handing it off to the running back who earns just about 8 yards from the play. It's third down, and you need 10 more yards to get to first.

Ethan calls out the next play and the team runs it perfectly. The running back manages to break free and run for 20 yards, giving the team a first down. The team cheers in excitement as they get a fresh set of downs and move closer to the end zone. "Y/N," you perk up at the sound of your name, "Be ready." You nod as Ethan pats your helmet.

You take a deep breath as you prepare yourself for the next play. You watch as Ethan signals the play and the team begins running it. You run up to the line of scrimmage, ready to make your move.

You see a gap in the defence and make your move, sprinting forward. You catch the football with both hands and take off, running for the endzone. You feel the wind in your face as you cross the goal line and score the touchdown.

The crowd erupts in cheers as you spike the ball in celebration. You jog back to the sidelines, feeling a sense of accomplishment and pride. You know you just made a game-winning play.

Meanwhile, Vada is in the stands beside Mia yelling, "GOAALLLLLLLLL!" Mia and Vada jump up and down excitedly, hugging each other in joy. The crowd continues to cheer as you take off your helmet and raise your arm in triumph. You feel a deep sense of satisfaction knowing that your hard work has paid off.

You wave to your mom who waves back, a huge smile on her face. "That's what I'm talking about!" Your coach saying patting your back. You take off your helmet, rubbing the sweat off your forehead with your towel. "Just one more touchdown and we've made it to the playoffs, baby."

You take a moment to take in the sound of the cheering crowd and the feel of the cool night air. The team gathers together in a huddle, the defensive team heading onto the field.

As the players take their positions on the field, the energy in the stadium is palpable. The coaches call out the plays and the team readies for the snap. The opposite team's quarterback takes the ball and the game resumes.

Thankfully your defensive side was able to stop the other team, and you're back on the field. Your team huddles up and the coach gives the next play. You take your position and get ready for the snap. As the ball is snapped, you make your move and the play is underway.

You make a break for the end zone, dodging and weaving past the other team's defence. Catching the ball with ease, you can feel the cheers of the crowd getting louder as you get closer. You feel someone hop on your back, but you continue running.

You keep going until you cross the goal line and score the winning touchdown. The crowd erupts as you raise your arms in victory. You look back to see your opponent still on your back, frustrated and disappointed.

The referee quickly signals for a touchdown and you can see the joy on your teammates' faces. You look back at your opponent and offer a friendly handshake to congratulate them on a good game. The team celebrates your victory as the crowd continues to roar.

You run to the sidelines, ecstatic about the win. The coaches congratulate you on your performance and the team gathers for a group hug. You look into the stands and see Vada staring back at you, her mouth open in shock. You take off your helmet, dropping it on the ground before holding up a heart.

Vada smiles and laughs, she mimes a heart back to you, and you smile widely. Ethan brings you into a tight hug, patting your back, "HELL YEAH!" You finally feel the euphoria of a victory. You had worked so hard and it had all paid off.

You look back at the field one last time, taking in the feeling of success before you turn to join your team in their celebration. You have made it, and nothing can take this moment away from you.

Moments pass and the entire team makes its way into the locker room. Everyone is in high spirits, laughing, hugging and even dancing to the sound of the music playing in the background. You can't help but smile, happy about the win.

As the team disperses, the coach takes you aside. He looks you in the eye and says "I'm proud of you. Great job today." You feel a thank him before leaving the locker room, walking outside to the front of the school building.

Ethan, Mia, and Vada are already there waiting. Once Vada sees you she runs to you, basically jumping into your arms. You hug her tightly, feeling a warmth inside. "You did it!" She shouts, her eyes bright with excitement.

"You like actually carried that guy onto your back? I told you you're Albert!" You laugh and hug her again. "Thanks, Vada." You are interrupted by a throat being cleared, and it's your mom.

"Hey, Ma." Your mom smiles at you, holding out her arms and you step into them, contentment washing over you. She pulls away slightly, with a proud smile and says, "You should be proud of yourself, Y/N. You did something remarkable today."

You smile, feeling a warmth in my chest. "I'm glad you think so," She hugs you again and says, "I always have, sweetheart. Now go hang out with your friends." You smile wider, feeling a warmth in your chest and your eyes start to mist.

You hug her tightly and thank her, before turning to go. You pause for a moment and look back, feeling so thankful for the unconditional love you have been given.

"TIME TO PARTYYYYY!" Ethan shouts from beside Mia, who joins him. You shake your head at the two, turning to Vada who raises her head, joining in as well. You can't help but laugh at their enthusiasm and join in, feeling the energy of the night.

The four of you make your way towards Max's house. He's known for throwing the best parties at your school, but you've never gone to any of them. You've never really had a reason to, but now you kind of do.

You knock on the door and Max welcomes you all in. The house is filled with people, and loud music and the air is thick with laughter and energy. You can feel a sense of anticipation and excitement as you all take in the scene.

You look around and take it all in, feeling a bit overwhelmed but excited. You make your way through the crowd, looking for a place to sit down and relax. You finally find a spot and settle in, ready to enjoy the party. "No way you're sitting down at a party," Vada says from beside you. You swallow your drink before sending a small smile at her.

She grins and grabs your hand, leading you to the dining room. "We're gonna play beer pong. I hope you have better accuracy."

"Any challengers?" A dark-haired boy says from the other side of the table, his friend close by. "Yeah." You speak up, wrapping an arm around Vada's shoulders. "Me and her," Vada smiles, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Ready to go?" you ask, and she nods.

The boy nods, "Okay. But just know beer pong is my calling." You and Vada exchange a knowing look, and you set up the table. The game begins and you soon find yourself in a heated battle with the dark-haired boy.

It's drink after drink, throw after throw, and soon the game is over. The boy is declared the winner with a triumphant grin on his face. Vada and you exchange an impressed look and congratulate him on his victory.

"I can't believe he won that." You mutter, a bit tipsy. Vada shakes her head, "I can. You still suck at aiming balls into stuff." You laugh and throw your hands up in defeat. "You're right, I do. But maybe I'll get better one day." You continue following Vada around the party until she suggests something.

"Wanna get high?" You look around the party and then back at Vada, "Let's do it." She smiles and grabs your hand, leading you away from the party. You quickly found a secluded corner outside, and she produced a joint from her pocket. Taking a lighter from her other pocket, "You always have a lighter and a joint in your pocket?"

She laughed, "No but... I knew I'd be going to this party. I wanted to prepare myself." You hum with a nod, Vada's eyes leave the joint before meeting yours. "Have you done this before?" You shake your head, "No. I haven't.."

She smiles, takes the joint and takes a deep breath. "It's ok, I'll show you how."Vada inhaled, and slowly exhaled. She passed the joint back to you and said, "Just take a tiny puff. Don't hold it in, just let it out." You took the joint and followed her advice. You felt a tingle in your chest as the smoke lingered in the air. You coughed a bit, but it was a good feeling. You exhaled and smiled. "See? Not so bad."

You handed the joint back to Vada, feeling a bit more at ease. You sit down on the grass, and Vada joins you laughing. "Just wait till it hits."  You close your eyes and lean your head back, savouring the moment.

You feel the warm sun on your skin and the cool grass beneath you. You can feel the effects of the marijuana start to take hold, and a peaceful calm overtakes you. "I wonder what kind of high you'll be."

"There kinds?" You smile and nod, feeling content. "There's the body high, the mental high, and the spiritual high. Each one has its own unique experience." You take a deep breath and sigh, feeling the effects of the marijuana wash over you.

You close your eyes and relax, feeling the tension in your body slowly dissipate. You smile, feeling a sense of peace and clarity that you hadn't felt in a long time. You open your eyes and take another deep breath, feeling a deep sense of connection to the world around you.

"I wonder who wrote the script for How to Build a Better Boy," Vada's eyes widen. She can't believe that's what you're talking about mid-smoke. You laugh and shrug. "It's just something I thought of. I was just trying to relax." She smiles, understanding. "Well, it seems like it worked. You look much calmer now."

You take a deep breath and smile. "Yeah, I guess it did. I'm glad I was able to take my mind off things for a bit." Vada nods in agreement, then takes a deep drag from the joint. You both take a moment to enjoy the silence and the feeling of companionship.

You turn to the shorter girl, smiling. "I wanna kiss you. Badly, I've been wanting to kiss you, but now I just really really really-" You're cut off by a pair of lips onto yours. You close your eyes and kiss her back, savouring the moment. When you pull away, you can't help but smile.

You look into her eyes and feel a warmth inside you that you never thought was possible. "I've been wanting to kiss you too." You smile wider, bringing her back into an intense kiss.

Bringing the girl into your lap, gripping her waist tightly. You can feel her heart pounding against your own. You can feel her body relax into your embrace as you kiss her more passionately. You don't know if this is just Vada or the cannabis you've inhaled, but this is definitely one of the best kisses you've had.

She pulls away and smiles at you, her eyes twinkling. You can feel the electricity between you, like something that will never be broken. You know this moment will stay with you forever.

She leans in and whispers in your ear, "I love you." You can feel your heart swell at the words. You hold her close and whisper back, "I love you too." Everything around you fades away and all that is left is the two of you in this moment. You kiss her tenderly as your hearts beat in unison.

"You've gotta be quiet!" Vada whisper yells at you, trying her best to support your weight. You nod and press your lips together, trying your best to muffle the sound of your breathing.

You feel Vada's arms tremble as she carries you through the darkness. You can sense her fear. "Ma is probably..." You start snoring and begin laughing at your own joke.

Hopefully, your mother is sleeping because of the way you're acting right now, she'd definitely tell if you're not sober. Vada stops walking and scolds you.

She tells you to keep quiet and you quickly apologize. You try to remain quiet for the remainder of the journey, but you can't help but feel a bit of excitement as you approach your bedroom.

On the second to last step, there's a creaking noise. You both tense up at the sound, waiting there a few moments before resuming your movements.

"Are we gonna make out, V?" Vada blushes, a slight smile playing on her lips. "Shh, we're almost to your room." You make it to the room, closing the door behind you. Vada then pushes you onto the bed, plopping down beside you with a heavy sigh.

You begin giggling, turning to the girl beside you. She smiles, leaning in closer. You close your eyes, feeling her warm breath on your face. You both press your lips together, eagerly exploring each other.

Your heart races as you feel her hands on your back. You break away, looking into her eyes. You both share a knowing smile, "Are you sober enough to consent?" You nod, "Yes. Now hurry... sober thoughts and drunk thoughts."

Vada laughs at your mess-up, fuck it. She was high as hell as well. She was just handling it way better than you.

You both kissed again, feeling the warmth as your bodies pressed against each other. You felt the alcohol between you, but you both knew that you were sober enough to make a conscious decision. Your hearts were pounding as you embraced each other, both of you eager for more.

You pull away, climbing onto of Vada. Vada smiles up at you as you look deep into her eyes. You lean in and kiss them passionately, your hands exploring her body. You two stay like this for what feels like an eternity, until finally you pull away, and you begin undressing.

You throw your hoodie away, and try to rip apart your white tank top but fail. Vada notices your frustration and giggles, then helps you take off your tank top, revealing your toned abs. She smiles, before reaching up and kissing you again.

She then fumbles with the buttons of your pants, and pulls them down, before pushing you onto the bed. She climbs on top of you, and begins to passionately kiss your neck and chest. You can feel her hands trailing up and down your body as she continues to kiss you.

She moves her hands to your back and pulls you closer. You can feel her breath on your skin as she whispers into your ear. She then moves her lips to yours and you become lost in the moment.

You pull away slightly, "Vada take off your damn clothes." You say fiddling with her shirt. She complies taking off her bra as well. Your mouth moves to her chest, kissing, licking and suckling as your hands wander to her shorts. You slip them off her hips, leaving her in just her panties.

She moans in pleasure as you continue your ministrations.

You move your hands further down, gently stroking her inner thighs. You pause, taking in her beauty before slowly slipping off her panties.

She smiles at you, her desire and anticipation palpable in the air. "My heart is racing so much," she admits, smiling. "Mine too," you reply, leaning in to kiss her.

Her lips are soft and inviting, and you can feel the heat of her body radiating around you. You both lose yourself in the moment, the anticipation of what's to come envelops you both.

You flip her over, laying her on her back. You begin to explore her body with your hands. Her skin is soft and smooth beneath your fingertips. She moans softly, her eyes closed in pleasure. "Y/N..."

You move your hands up and down her body, exploring every inch of her. She gasps softly as you reach her most sensitive areas. You press your lips against her clit, sending waves of pleasure through her body.

She grabs hold of your hair, her moans getting louder as you keep going. You feel her body quiver beneath you as you continue to pleasure her, her breathing becoming rapid and her body shaking with pleasure.

You can feel her nearing her climax and you increase the intensity of your motions, pushing her over the edge. Her body convulses with pleasure as she reaches her orgasm. "Ohmygod."

You kiss her body as she recovers from her orgasm, her breathing slowly returning to normal. She looks up at you with a satisfied smile, her eyes still filled with pleasure. You return her smile, happy to have been able to bring her pleasure.

You feel yourself hard against your underwear, and you know that you're ready for your own pleasure. You pull her closer to you and whisper in her ear, letting her know that you're ready. She responds with a mischievous grin, her hand moving to pleasure you.

You moan as her hand slides up and down, the pleasure building inside you. She moves her lips to yours, her tongue exploring your mouth as her hand continues to work its magic.

You can feel yourself getting closer to the edge, and you grab her hand to slow her down. She smiles in understanding and pulls away, the pleasure ebbing away. You look into each other's eyes, and you both know that this is only the beginning. "I'm gonna grab a condom." You mumble, rushing off the bed and into your drawer.

She nods in agreement, and you can sense the anticipation in the air. You come back to the bed, and she eagerly takes the condom from you. Opening the gold wrapper, you take out the condom and unroll it onto yourself, before moving to lie on top of her.

She wraps her arms around you as you take a deep breath as you slowly slide inside her, and you both gasp in pleasure.

You both moan in pleasure as you start to move, and she wraps her legs around you. You start to build up momentum, faster and faster, as you move together. The friction of the condom creates a warm, smooth sensation that sends pleasure through both of you with each thrust.

With each movement, you feel your connection with her deepen and you can feel the sensations in both your bodies become more intense.

"Vada," you sigh out, resting your head in the nape of her shoulder. She looks up at you and smiles, her eyes twinkling in the dim light. You kiss her softly and she wraps her arms around you tightly.

You can feel the warmth radiating from her body and you feel the love you have for her in that moment. You want to stay like this forever and the thought of having to part from her is too much to bear. You tightly embrace her and whisper that you love her. You feel her body trembling as she returns the embrace.

"I'm about to cum." She moans into your ear as she cums. You feel her body quivering and it sends waves of pleasure throughout your body. You hold her tight as you release as well. You collapse onto the bed, panting heavily. You lay there in each other's arms for a few moments, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking. You kiss each other tenderly and drift off to sleep.

"Was I your first time?" She replies with a soft whisper, "No, Mia was." Your head snaps to her and she laughs, sighing out shortly after.

You take a moment to process what she said. "Really?" She nods, "It happened... multiple times... the fifth week of school." You take a deep breath and look away for a moment, trying to contain your confusion.

"Was I yours?" You shake your head smiling, "No, Ethan was." She lets out a loud laugh at your joke, laying her head on your chest. You take a deep breath and hold her close.

You feel a wave of emotions wash over you, grateful for the moment of comfort. You are filled with a sense of peace, knowing that you have someone to talk to and share your feelings with.

"I need to shower." You say. Vada nods rolling over. "You can join me, but you gotta be quiet." You smile, "Oh, you're telling me to be quiet now?"

You chuckle and lead her into the bathroom. You both take your time showering, enjoying the warmth of the water and each other's company. After, you dry off and return to your bedroom, both content and peaceful.

You wake up to a shout of your name. Looking to your left you notice Vada is still sound asleep. "Fuck," you rush up out of bed putting on your clothes before nearly darting downstairs to the kitchen, following the smell of breakfast.

Your mother is standing over the stove. Three plates of eggs and bacon already waiting for you on the table. She gives you a stern look before turning back to the stove. "There are three..." You mutter to her confused.

She points to the plates. "One for you, one for your girlfriend, and one for me. Now wake her up and come and eat."

You sheepishly smile turning on your heels to go wake up Vada.

#reader insert #wattpad #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #vada x reader #vada cavell #vada x you #vada x y/n #vada cavell x reader #vada cavell x you #vada cavell x y/n #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna x reader

[daemonsversion]

Hightower Girl | Daemon x Reader

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Female (Hightower) Reader

Summary: Sometimes it seems like Daemon has made it his life's mission to annoy you as much as possible. However, when he learns that your father has practically arranged a marriage for you, a long hidden desire comes raging to the surface.

Content etc: profanity, slight masturbation but not really, smut (fingering, loss of virginity) I never know what to put here tbh. Sorry for any mistakes, I only read back through it once or so.

Word count: 6,935 (my first fic on this page was NOT meant to be this long help)

The air held a chill as you turned your gaze up to the sky. You were standing at one of the large windows, looking out over the courtyard as the morning light continued to grow. It was beautiful to look at, yet the chill felt similar to the one that ran through your heart.

With a sigh, you turned away and retreated down the corridor. Last night your father, Otto Hightower, had told you of his plans to marry you off to one of the lords on the small council. You would, quite frankly, rather eat your own head but when you tried to protest all he'd done was get upset with you and tell you it was long overdue that you wed.

So you had been in a downward spiral ever since, trying to decide what - if anything - you could do to get out of it. It was a feeling of powerlessness that had you in its grip as you lamented that there might actually be nothing that you could do about it. Unfortunately, in many ways, you were seen as your father's property. To effectively sell off as he saw fit.

You didn't see him at first. Your eyes were fixed firmly ahead as you walked but they were not really working as they should. You had tunnel vision, moving mainly on autopilot. It wasn't until you'd walked right into Prince Daemon and trodden on his foot that you realised he was anywhere in the vicinity.

"Ah-careful!" He hissed, though not out of real anger, just a bit of surprise and pain because you'd really stomped down on his toes without meaning to. His hands had shot up to your shoulders, pushing you away from him, holding you at arms length.

Your gazes met at the same time and he blinked, abruptly letting go of you and stepping back, his eyes looking you up and down. "Oh." Hightower girl.

You frowned at his reaction but you were not in the mood today to get into an argument with the prince of the city, though some days you almost lived for it. "Forgive me, I was not looking where I-"

"No. I daresay you were not." Daemon smoothly interrupted, causing a flash of irritation to go through you. As much as you tried to conceal it, it did not go unnoticed and his lip curled into an amused smirk.

He leaned in slightly, his eyes now full of mischief as he saw the reaction he'd drawn out of you. Very similar to the ones you often drew from him, merely by the circumstance of your birth. He had not the stomach for Hightower cunts, after all, but he had absolutely found some use for you - getting to make you scowl and want to stomp your pretty little foot was the highlight of his day sometimes.

"You know, if you wanted to be close to me, all you had to do was ask." He purred, a hand coming up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face.

Your own hand immediately came up to slap his away before he could even touch you. Daemon chuckled, straightening up and letting his eyes roam down your form once more, from head to toe. This time it felt like there was something more than just derision there... and a sort of heat started to creep through you. Once his eyes met yours again, he gave you another one of his irritating smirks and then turned on his heel and vanished as quickly as he had appeared.

With a glare, you watched him leave, ignoring the deep ache that started to gnaw at you somewhere within and then you turned away and continued about your business.

Idiot.

Hours later, your frustrated footsteps took you through the keep, away from your father's office, out into the fresh air. The expression on your face was anything but happy, the argument you had just had with Otto fresh in your mind. You had, of course, gone to him intending to have a very levelheaded conversation about all of this but as usual it had descended into madness.

'It is high time you wed and start a family of your own, I have coddled you too long. Grow up. You will marry him.'

The words were spinning in your mind as you exited and stormed out to the Godswood. Not for any reason other than the fact that you knew it would be empty of people and your main desire was to be alone.

You didn't even want to talk it out with your little sister right now because you knew Alicent would only try and defend him. Ever the little appeaser, she would probably say that Otto was only doing what he thought was best. If he wanted to do what was best for you, why not let you marry someone you wanted, when you wanted?

A large pair of hands suddenly gripping you by the waist from behind and pulling you backwards, flush up against a hard body, startled you from your web of thoughts.

"You know the Gods aren't actually listening, don't you?" Daemon's lips grazed your hair and his breath was hot in your ear.

With a squeal, you scrunched in on yourself, squirming out of his grasp, twisting around to shove him away by the chest. "Daemon!" Your tone was scolding.

He only chuckled, leaning against the nearest tree as he looked back at you. "What?" He asked innocently.

You could only frown. Usually you had no problem giving back what you got but you simply don't have the heart for any of it today.

"Oh, what?" Daemon practically sneered, his lip curling as he stared at you. "Cat got your tongue, Hightower girl?" He knew your name but he never bothered to use it, simply out of a desire to further annoy you. You only ever called him by his name and he never called you by yours.

You rolled your eyes and gave him a look but there was not as much fire in it as usual and he found that this disappointed him a little.

"I saw you leaving your father's office." Daemon continued, watching the way your jaw tightened just slightly. He smirked. "Is it your cunt of a father that has upset you, hm?"

Where he expected to see a scowl at his insult against Otto, perhaps even a little fight, you instead huffed a humourless laugh and threw your hands up in a defeated manner. Upset was an understatement, you felt so far beyond just upset.

Daemon frowned, his expression becoming more serious. Well, teasing you was no fun if you did not react in the way he had become accustomed to. It seemed that he might have hit the nail on the head here without even really meaning it - he thought your mournful look was due to his presence, though now that he thought about it you had stormed out here in something of a temper. He had followed you all the way from inside, after all, so he'd seen the swiftness of your steps.

"What has he done now?" He asked then, studying your face with a look you rarely saw on him.

"Nothing." You mumbled, looking down at the ground. The last thing you wanted to do was pour your heart out to Daemon fucking Targaryen.

"It does not look like nothing." Was all the prince said in response.

Just that, not a hint of mockery in his tone, and you lifted your head to frown at him again. He did not look his usual level of cruel amusement. He looked almost like he... actually just wanted to know. That couldn't be right.

However, something about that made you just blurt the words out. Your father had basically sold you off to one of those stupid, stuffy lords on the small council. You had no choice and you felt like you were suffocating!

After you finished venting, Daemon's expression changed again. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but you caught the slight narrowing of his eyes as he stared at you in silence. The smugness seemed to have been wiped completely from his face. You couldn't remember the last time you'd seen him without it.

"What?" You asked, confused now as well as frustrated. Why was he not making fun of you about this? Why was he not taunting you with your looming fate?

Daemon gave the slightest shake of his head, his gaze dropping away from your face slightly. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then he closed it again as if he'd changed his mind. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip and then he turned his face, looking away over the trees.

Your gaze had dropped to his mouth but you ignored the feeling in the pit of your stomach that the glimpse of his tongue gave you and tried to focus.

"What?" You asked again, a little more firmly this time. Daemon's silence was setting you on edge.

"What do you mean, what?" Daemon practically hissed as he turned his face back towards you.

Your glare returned at his tone. That was more like it. More familiar. "What do you think I mean? What is your problem?"

"You are my problem!" Was his furious reply as he took a step towards you.

"I have never done anything to you!" You exclaimed back. It was always him! Starting an argument or saying something snide in passing. He'd started this whole thing! If you were such a problem, why did he keep seeking you out just to bother you?

"Oh, do not act as though you are blind!" Daemon said, exasperated.

"What are you talking about?" You could not understand how a discussion about your predicament had spun so out of control. Why was he so angry? He was the one who'd asked! You were the one who was being given to some random man! "This is typical Daemon Targaryen. Everything is always about y-"

"You know very well that I have desired you, do not try and deny it!" Daemon snapped.

The silence that followed was absolutely deafening. You stared at him, your expression now one of shock. He stared back, his one of anger and also regret for speaking the words aloud.

"You..." Was all you could get out before you fell silent once more. This did not make sense.

In one of the most surprising moves he had ever pulled on you, Daemon closed the remaining distance in an instant. Taking your face in between his hands, he held you in place for a moment as his dark gaze burned across your features, and then his mouth descended upon yours and you were thrown so far into shock you were not sure you would ever come back from it.

His kiss was hot and passionate and his tongue was in your mouth before you knew what was happening as you... kissed him back, the desire that had been fighting for attention inside you for years now taking control.

His hands moved from your face and took hold of your waist as his mouth continued to explore yours, guiding you backwards towards the tree and pressing you gently up against it. You would have expected him to be rough and quick but he was not. His touch was gentle and soft and your heart was practically flying in your chest.

His body pressed up against yours as he deepened the kiss and you couldn't stop a soft sound of desire leaving you. It spurred Daemon on as a hand moved up from your waist, sliding up over your dress. He groaned into your mouth at the shape of you and you felt like you were on fire.

Only when Daemon's fingers began to fiddle with the lacing at the front of your bodice did you come back to your senses, turning your face to break the kiss and the hands that had moved to grasp his shirt began to push him away. "Stop... stop..."

The kiss stopped but Daemon did not immediately move away, his nose grazing your hair and his breath now hot against your ear as he fought to get his lust under control.

Eventually, he pulled away, his hands leaving you, stepping back to put distance between you both.

You were in an absolute whirlwind. Had that actually just happened? You had kissed Daemon. Daemon had kissed you. He'd been desiring you? For how long? Why? He hated you, did he not? You had so many questions and a moment later you turned your face back so you could see him.

Daemon stood where he was for another few moments, breathing heavily as he stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then he suddenly turned on his heel and started walking off.

"Daemon!" You called, stepping after him in surprise. What? He was just going to leave? This was not finished!

The prince said not another word, nor did he turn around, simply picked up his pace and disappeared.

The night was quiet.

The hour of the wolf had come and you had still not managed to fall asleep. It was not just your marriage predicament playing on your mind this night, it was also the moment with Daemon in the Godswood.

His hands on your waist. His tongue in your mouth.

You would be lying if you tried to convince yourself that you had never imagined it before. Despite the way he often spoke to you, and the remarks or looks you sometimes even gave him back, you had always had that funny feeling around Daemon. Try as you might (because he was a complete bastard, there was no denying it) you just hadn't been able to shake it. That desire.

Desire. He'd said he had desired you. How long had he felt that way? Why had he never said or done anything? To be fair, you knew why, and it probably had everything to do with your father.

Otto Hightower was the snake in Daemon's boot.

You thought about the way he'd looked at you when you'd told him about Otto's plan to marry you off. The speechlessness you had never witnessed before. The way his anger had risen quite quickly, causing him to just blurt out these apparently hidden feelings he'd been harbouring.

Your thoughts began to wander, wondering what would have happened if you had just let him continue what he'd been doing. If you'd let him pull at the laces of your dress and go further. He'd already had you up against the tree, what would it have been like if you'd just... let him take you?

As you imagined it, an ache began to grow steadily down between your thighs. Sighing, you squirmed. It was too late for this! You needed to sleep... yet it would not go away and your thoughts would not quiet.

With a frustrated noise, you shifted and your hand slid beneath the sheets. You couldn't believe that you were about to do this. Touch yourself to the thought of Daemon fucking Targaryen. That rude, arrogant, self-centred...

Your eyes drifted closed as you pulled the hem of your nightdress up and moved your fingers where you wanted - no, needed - them.

The lightest of touches was all you were afforded before you heard the sound of soft knocking at the door. You flinched, eyes flying open again as you sat up on your elbows and stared at the door with a frown.

The hour was so late. Who could that possibly be?

"Who is it?" You eventually called out, in case it was Alicent or maybe a guard informing people of a problem - though you had not heard any activity in the halls.

Instead of receiving a reply, your heart leapt into your throat as the door was simply pushed open upon hearing you were awake and a figure slipped into the room. It took you a moment to realise it was not any old intruder.

"Daemon!" Your heart rate slowed again, though not by much. The fact he was here at all was very improper.

He did not speak but stayed standing by the now closed door, staring at you through the darkness.

His silent, lingering presence in your dark chamber unnerved you slightly. "What are you doing?" You hissed.

Daemon blinked, seeming to snap out of whatever reverie he'd found himself in. He had been staring at you in the bed, not having been prepared for the sight even though he'd known logically you would be in it. "I thought that we should speak." He said, taking a step away from the door.

You sat up even further in the bed. "At this hour? In my chambers? You should not be here."

"I could not sleep." He said simply. Even through the darkness you could see the way his gaze flickered very quickly over your sheet-covered form.

"What has that got to do with me?" You asked even though you were pretty sure you already knew the answer. Had he been thinking about it too? Had it kept him awake as it had kept you?

Daemon's slight smirk returned as he took another step towards the bed and slowly moved to sit down on the edge of it. He wanted to touch you but he refrained. You were right, it was late and inappropriate but he just hadn't been able to rest. He had been pacing a hole in the floor of his own room for the past few hours.

You shifted in the silence that followed, refusing to be the first to break it. Your eyes were glued to him.

"I would say sorry about earlier," his voice came again. "But I would not mean it."

"Why are you here, Daemon?" You asked, ignoring what he'd just said completely.

He smiled a little wryly and his gaze dropped briefly to the low neckline of your nightdress and back up to your face. The moonlight streaming in through your window was the only thing illuminating the room.

"I think you know why I am here." He murmured, lifting a hand as if to reach for you face.

As earlier in the day, you lifted your own hand and lightly smacked his away before he could touch you. "I am not one of your whores!" You snapped, offended.

"Give yourself to me and I will never take another whore again, I swear it." Daemon said simply, his voice low as he leaned in slightly, his eyes never leaving your face.

"What?" You leaned backwards but the pillows didn't let you move too far from him. You could feel that ache again... the closer he got, the more he spoke.

"I mean it, I am being serious." He stated, lifting his hand again to graze the backs of his fingers down your cheek. This time you let him. "You do not wish for your father to marry you off to that stuffy idiot." He whispered, shifting closer. "Well, neither do I." His tone had darkened a little on that, taking on an almost possessive quality that made your heart somersault. "I presume you are a maiden." It tended to be something of a good bargaining chip for arranging unions between houses, after all.

Daemon's touch travelled slowly down your cheek towards your jaw and he eventually curled his long fingers under your chin, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "Give yourself to me," he repeated. "And I will deflower you and make it known... the marriage will be over before it is even begun." He knew this particular lord well and he knew he would not want a wife who had been sullied.

You stared at him in stunned silence for a long moment, trying to ignore the tightening in your belly and the racing of your heart at his proximity and his words. "To what end?" You asked in a helpless little whisper. "I would not have to marry this lord, no, but then what? I will surely be...-" Unwanted by most, seen as ruined perhaps, used. And gods the fury of your father when he found out...

As much as you desired him you did not want to be just one of Daemon's conquests, especially when it would leave you ostracised with no options while he continued to swan around doing whatever he wanted with no consequences. Oh, to be a man, you thought bitterly.

However, you did not get to finish your thought as Daemon interrupted, with a frustrated little frown on his face as if he'd expected you to piece that together on your own. "You would marry me."

A silence followed in which the two of you simply stared at each other. You were stunned. Did he mean that or was he being annoying? Despite the frustration on his face, which was also kind of born from his lust, you got the feeling he wasn't making fun of you. Not this time.

"What?"

"I said you would marry me, Hightower girl, are you deaf?"

A small scowl appeared on your face at his response and you pulled your face from his grasp. No, you were not deaf, but it was a bit of a bloody shocking thing for him to say, wasn't it?

"I have a name you know, you arrogant-!" You cut yourself off before you could say something too terrible but the irritation remained on your face. He had never in all the years you'd known him told you off for not using a title with him, yet he had also never called you by your own name from what you could recall. No doubt he had probably long forgotten it!

Daemon smirked at the sudden rise of fire in you. You had been off for most of the day due to wallowing in your misery and fighting with you had not felt quite as satisfactory as it usually did.

"There she is." He muttered, reaching for your face again. This time he took it with both hands like he had in the Godswood and he stared directly into your eyes, amusement shining on his face as he said your name.

Something about it falling from his lips, the way his mouth moved as he spoke it, coupled with the slowly growing desire in his eyes made you cave. Something flickered in your eyes. Daemon saw it and he immediately took it as a yes and leaned in. You did not object, tilting your head slightly once his mouth came down on yours, kissing him deeply.

A moment later his hands left your face and he was tugging at you to get you to lie back down. You shifted, still reeling slightly, and lay down again in the bed. Your heart was racing. You should not be doing this.

Any further thought was momentarily ceased as Daemon slid over top of you, hovering for a few seconds as his eyes seemed to take in as much as they could of you through the dark. "You are beautiful." He mumbled, so quiet that you thought he'd probably said it accidentally. His mouth immediately descending upon your own to prevent any response strengthened this thought.

You kissed him back right away, not in the state of mind to fully think on it anyway. Your desire was rising and the ache that had kept you awake was growing once more.

You made a small sound into his mouth which made Daemon press his body down against yours a little. The contact just made you feel hotter.

His hand slowly moved up to the neckline of your nightgown and this time you did not try to stop him. You let his fingers tug at the little ties, feeling it loosen with each one he pulled free. Your heart was now hammering so hard in your chest that you wondered how you had not passed out.

This is wrong, your mind was screaming.

But if it was wrong... then why did it feel so right?

Your thoughts ceased again when Daemon's fingers touched the bare skin of your right breast, having gotten the laces at the bust undone while you were kissing. You made a sound into his mouth and then he broke the kiss, pulling back so he could look down at you, wanting to see you properly.

The light in the room was dim but his eyes were keen enough and he groaned at the sight of you, gently pulling the rest of the fabric aside.

Again, Daemon continued to surprise you. Earlier, in the Godswood you remembered expecting his kiss or his movements to be rough and demanding yet it had been soft and gentle. In bed, you had imagined (yes, shamefully, you had imagined) Daemon ripping clothes off impatiently and taking what he wanted, yet he was taking his time undressing you and he was looking at you like you were something special, not just a body he wanted to use.

There was a funny, fluttery feeling in your stomach that you ignored as Daemon's eyes met yours again. He just held your gaze for a few seconds and then his lips were on yours once more. While his tongue explored your mouth, his fingers roamed your breasts - pinching, rubbing, tweaking, caressing - until you were squirming and whining.

You felt the beginnings of one of his trademark smirks and he broke the kiss with a chuckle, pulling back and looking down at you with amused eyes. Before you could complain about his teasing, a hand reached down and began to pull the skirt of your nightdress higher up your legs.

Briefly, you tensed. You tried to hide it but Daemon, who had been watching you very closely, immediately stopped his hand.

"Tell me to stop..." He said quietly. "And I will."

You could have. You could have told him to stop. You could have pushed him off. You could have told him to get out of your room. You could have stopped this whole insane plan right there and then.

But you didn't.

Because you wanted him.

You shook your head and Daemon raised an eyebrow, still not moving. He needed more than that.

You wriggled in frustration. "Please." You muttered, a little embarrassed to seem like you were begging for it, but Daemon did not mock you. His gaze seemed to darken with desire and his fingers clawed at the fabric once more, pulling it all the way up your thighs, wanting access to you. He might not seem it but he was growing impatient. He could feel the proof of it straining against his breeches, practically screaming to be let out.

But he would not be selfish and greedy. Not tonight. Not with you.

His fingers reached your most forbidden area and your mind immediately went blank once more, a gasp catching in your throat as he began to touch you there. His eyes did not leave your face once, wanting to see every little expression of pleasure that passed across it.

Daemon let out a groan when his fingers slid up and down your centre, feeling how wet you already were for him. He could scarcely believe his luck, it took everything not to just hold you down and finally make you his.

It was all he had been thinking about for months, probably even longer. Every whore he'd fucked to try and banish the thought of you from his mind had only succeeded in lodging you deeper into his heart.

He circled your clit a few times, drinking in the way you writhed at the sensation and then he slipped a finger inside of you. Your breath caught in your throat and he felt you tense slightly once more, an involuntary reaction. He'd felt such a reaction many times before. This was not his first deflowering.

"Shh.." He soothed, leaning in to press soft kisses to your cheek and jaw. "Shh... relax."

Daemon began to move his finger slowly, to allow you to become accustomed to the feeling. He felt you relaxing in response to his kisses and his gentle movements and soon it felt nice and you were making those sweet little sounds once more. He swiped his thumb over your clit again and then inserted a second finger, moving them both in and out with a gentle rhythm.

His lips came back to yours and he stayed like this for a little while, tongue exploring your mouth while his fingers worked you, slowly increasing speed. Your body felt hot, you were shaking and moaning... and Daemon was growing more and more turned on.

When he finally drove you to climax, he could take no more and he grunted, pulling his mouth from yours and leaning back to watch you come undone on his fingers. You were almost dizzy from the stars he'd just made you see but your eyes reopened as you felt him move away, whimpering slightly as his fingers left your heat.

You heard the sound of his belt being unbuckled and your heart started to race.

His fingers were starting to becoming impatient as he freed himself of his bothersome clothing and then moved himself back on top of you. When he kissed you this time, you felt something pressing up against you that was certainly not his hand. You shuddered and moaned into his mouth.

Daemon's lips left yours and began to trail down your jaw to your neck. He let them linger there, kissing and licking your skin as his hand moved back down your body, caressing your breasts and familiarising himself with the shape of you. He gently nudged your legs apart with his knee, trying not to rush too much because the last thing he wanted to do was go too fast and ruin the experience for you, but he wanted you to badly by this point it was almost painful.

Your body was on fire and your mind was focused on nothing but him, him, him. If there had been any lingering doubts anywhere inside of you, there wasn't any longer. You wanted this. You craved it. You had craved it for a long time, though you had not fully let yourself think it.

Daemon's hand took hold of his length and he gave himself a lazy stroke as his teeth gently grazed against your neck. The scent of you and the way you were responding to him was driving him absolutely mad. He wanted nothing more than to be inside of you. For you to finally be his.

He guided himself to your cunt and began to slide himself through your wetness, not quite pressing in yet, teasing you over and over as he got you used to the feeling of him.

You whimpered desperately.

Daemon groaned, his breath hot against your neck. "Gods, I want you." He muttered. He was frustrated, almost guilty, that he had not the patience to spend more time on your body. He wanted to taste you, but he told himself next time.

"Please..." You whispered, once more practically begging him. The feeling of his cock gliding through your slick was too much, you needed more, you needed to feel him. "Please." You said again, in a whine that caused Daemon to groan again in response.

He pulled his head back and looked down at you. "Say you want me."

"I want you." The words fell from your lips easily. They were true. They had always been true.

"I want you too." He whispered, leaning back in to kiss you one more time before he pulled away again and then shifted slightly. He kept eye contact with you the whole time as he began to press himself into you, your arousal making it so easy for him to slide himself into your heat.

Gods, the slick between your thighs made you feel like such a wanton little thing. He almost growled.

Another few seconds and he was buried inside you. He gave a deep moan as he pressed his face back into your neck, dizzy on the feeling. He wasn't so far gone that he didn't feel the tension rise in you once more though and he leaned back up, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your face and jaw again.

"Shh..." He soothed once more as he heard your breath catch in your throat when he shifted his body. He had gotten you ready for him and been as gentle as he could but he knew you were hiding the fact it still hurt a little.

"Look at me." He murmured, pressing a kiss to your lips and then looking down at your face. "Good girl." He purred when your eyes met his, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. The praise awoke something inside you and you made a soft sound. He smirked slightly, having felt the fluttering of your walls around him. "Mhm. You liked that." Daemon teased.

If your face was not scarlet before, it was when he said that. Still, all panic had left your body as you were now just focused on the pleasure of the moment. When Daemon tested the waters by shifting his hips a little bit, a soft moan left you and he could tell it was feeling better for you. So he moved again. Then again. And again.

Soon, he had built up a steady pace, thrusting in and out of you. The room filled with lewd sounds and you could do nothing but revel in it. The burn had faded and now each thrust of his hips gave you a jolt of pleasure. Daemon was good at this. You supposed it was to be expected with all the experience it sounded like he had.

He wanted to last. He really did. But he had wanted you for so long and he felt like he was about to burst with each little sound that left you, each little wriggle you made underneath him, each time your nails gently bit into his arms as you clung to him.

His movements began to get quicker and you whined as he rubbed repeatedly against a certain spot inside of you. He grunted hard as he realised the reaction you were having. Daemon, however, was slightly unhappy with something. You were not reaching release quick enough and he was worried, with the way things were going, that he would before you did. He would be damned if he left you unsatisfied.

He moved his hand back down between your bodies and found your clit again, circling the little bud with skillful fingers. It was not long after that you were trembling and then shattering as he pushed you over the edge once more.

The sounds that your release pulled from you were so hot that he pretty much fell apart there and then. He groaned helplessly and buried his face back into your neck, breathing heavily as he moved his hips a few more times, his movements becoming a little less controlled as he felt himself nearing completion. With a harsh moan, Daemon then spilled himself inside of you and collapsed on top of you.

For a few minutes, the room was filled with nothing but heavy breathing as the two of you lay there like that, tangled together, all hot and sticky. You felt utterly boneless. Your eyes were shut and your breathing was ragged, your heart racing, your body limp beneath his weight.

It was perfect.

He was perfect.

"I will speak... to my brother to... tomorrow." Daemon muttered against your neck, slowly coming back to himself. Even if Otto held any reservations after what happened, Viserys would no doubt smooth them over somehow and convince him that you marrying Daemon was the best (and only) option to come out of this.

You could only hum in response, delighting in the kisses he began once more pressing against your skin. You felt warm and content and when he eventually moved and rolled off you, you couldn't hold in a sound of disappointment. Immediately you felt embarrassed but Daemon's arms coming around you and pulling you to him distracted you from it.

Opening your eyes, you blinked at him. "You can't stay."

"We are to be married." He said simply, a small smirk on his face. "I have taken you. Everyone will find out anyway." He reminded you. That was the plan after all.

"Yes, but..." Your cheeks felt hot but hopefully he would think you were just still coming down from the high because you partly were. The idea of being caught with a man (Daemon Targaryen of all people) in your bed was too scandalous. A step outside your comfort zone. "...you..."

"I will go, do not worry." Daemon purred in your ear, flicking his tongue out lightly over the outer edge, smirking as he felt you shiver. "I only want to hold you until you fall asleep. Does that not sound nice? Hm?" He did not say that he simply could not stomach the thought of just rolling out of bed and leaving you lying here all by yourself after your very first time. He did not want to leave you alone in the dark.

You sighed, acting bothered, but it did sound very nice and you were already so comfortable. He was very warm... so you were quick to relent. "Fine. But as soon as I am asleep..." Your voice held as much warning as you could muster.

Daemon chuckled softly, nodding as he adjusted slightly, getting more comfortable in the bed and pulling you up tighter against his body. "Yes, my lady." He said it as if you had given a command and he liked the way his teasing tone made you giggle.

It did not take you long to fall asleep. Indeed, you were so exhausted, you were out in a few minutes.

Unfortunately, Daemon was also so exhausted that he fell asleep mere moments after you did.

When Alicent entered your chambers the next morning, she got quite a shock... and quite an eyeful, as Daemon had kicked himself out of the covers at some point during the night, giving the poor girl an unfortunate glimpse of his backside that did not leave her memory for the rest of her days.

Her shriek was what caused your father to come running into the room. You were not sure you had ever seen Otto quite so angry in your whole life. After the initial shock wore off, you thought he might actually be so angry he would lay hands upon the prince but he managed to somehow hold himself back.

The look of disappointment was clear as your father turned his gaze on you but Daemon, now standing, shifted in front of you the second he saw it and blocked Otto's view.

If anyone would take Otto Hightower's anger, it would be him.

"What's say you and I go and have a talk with my brother, hm?" Daemon muttered, his eyes narrowed.

Otto stared at him with barely concealed rage. The last thing he wanted was his child linked to a man like Daemon Targaryen. He had been a thorn in his side for years. And now he had... defiled one of his daughters! He tried to look at you again but Daemon cleared his throat.

Otto glared at the prince. "You may wish to put on some clothes first." Was all he said before turning and sweeping from the room, dragging Alicent out by her elbow, letting the door slam behind them.

You would have burst into tears if you were not so shocked. You watched Daemon turn to pull his clothes back on. When he looked up at you, he was smirking.

"It's not funny!" You exclaimed.

"Oh, come on." He teased, sitting down on the bed and leaning closer. "It is a little bit funny."

You turned your head so he couldn't kiss you, frowning. You had never felt so embarrassed and ashamed in your whole life. Though it would have come out anyway when Daemon told his brother and you confirmed but to have been walked in on by your father and sister was another thing entirely!

Daemon sighed, lifting a hand to your chin and gently turning your face back towards him. "I'm sorry."

"You said you would leave!"

Daemon blinked, feeling a little bit guilty because he could see this actually had been difficult for you. "I did not do it on purpose, I fell asleep!"

You scoffed. "Right."

"Hey. I mean it." He said and he looked and sounded so serious that you did believe him.

There was a brief silence and then Daemon smirked again.

"What?" You asked, half snapping at him.

Your tone did nothing to rid him of his smile, the smirk turning into a bit of a grin. "When I return," he said as he leaned in again. "You and I will be betrothed."

You could not stop your face from breaking into a smile of your own. "You seem very confident in that fact." After what he'd just walked in on, you were pretty sure your father would be vehemently against this, perhaps simply out of spite and anger.

"Don't you know by now, Hightower girl?" Daemon's eyes glinted with mischief as he closed the distance and kissed your lips once more. When you parted, he was smirking again. "I always get what I want."

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd x reader #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon x you #daemon targaryen x you #house of the dragon x you #hotd fanfic

[demonpiratehuntress]

fictional boys (Monster Trio + Ace, Kaku)

featuring - Zoro x F!Reader, Ace x F!Reader, Sanji x F!Reader, Luffy x F!Reader, Kaku x F!Reader

summary - their reactions to finding out you have a crush on a fictional character

warnings - slightly angsty in Sanji's part but otherwise none

a/n: Kaku is severely underrated and there is a shocking lack of fics for him

ZORO

You're always reading. This was normal for you, but Zoro had never seen you this engrossed in one before. You spent more time with that damn book than you did with him these days, and even napping with you was a pain because you always had it with you. And he didn't understand your obsession with it, until he overheard a conversation between you and Nami.

"So who's your favourite?" The orange-haired navigator asked excitedly, leaning forward for the gossip.

"(Random Name)," you answered just as eagerly, your eyes lighting up excitedly. "He's the coolest!"

"Right?" Nami agreed, a dreamy smile on her face. "And the hottest."

"Oh yeah definitely."

"Who's the hottest, now?" A familiar deep voice cut through before you two could get any further than that. Zoro stopped by the table, crossing his arms and looking unamused.

"A guy in this book," you answered your boyfriend, unaware of the hostility in his tone, "He's this really cool knight who-"

"I'm cooler."

You looked up at him in surprise, not expecting him to cut you off with those words, "What?"

"Your stupid knight," he clarified, "I'm cooler than him. And hotter."

You looked at Nami, who was trying her hardest not to laugh. Then you looked back at your boyfriend, who was looking at you expectantly. Waiting for you to agree.

"Zoro-"

"Oh, so you like him better than me?"

"No! I never-" You stopped, starting to smirk. "Wait...are you jealous?"

He glared at you, "I don't get jealous."

"Oh, alright then," you sat back, deciding to tease him. "Then I can tell you more about his heroics, if you'd like."

A growl followed your words, and the book was quickly pulled from your grip and tossed overboard. The silence was only broken by a splash, before you finally reacted.

"Zoro! What-"

"Mine," he suddenly lifted you up bridal-style, "All mine." He carried you off to his room to show you - remind you - who you belonged to.

"I'm way better than that shitty knight."

ACE

The last time Ace had seen you, you were reading. The next time he saw you, you were still reading. He had gone and had a whole island adventure while you'd apparently just lay on your shared bed with your nose buried in a book. He wondered what was so special and interesting about it, so when you went to go do something he picked it up and read a little bit of it.

"Ace? Are you actually reading something?"

You giggled from the doorway, watching as the second division commander jumped, startled, and dropped your book. He looked up at you, pouting slightly.

"Just wanted to see why it's more interesting than I am."

"It's not more interesting than you are," you denied, coming over to the bed. You sat down next to him, picking it up and checking if you still had your page marked.

"But you're ignoring me to read it!" He protested, crossing his arms. With that and his pout, he looked like an upset child. It was cute.

"I'm not ignoring you! It's just..." You sighed. "There's a character I really like and I want to see where his story goes."

"His?"

You realised your mistake too late. Ace's eyes narrowed, looking from your face to the book. For a moment, there was dead silence, before he suddenly burned your book to a crisp. Your eyes widened and you were about to scold him for that, but he quickly engulfed you in a bone-crushing hug, nuzzling his face against your neck.

"You don't need a stupid book boy, you have me."

"Portgas D. Ace, are you jealous of a fictional character?"

"W-what?! NO! I just...you know...you don't give me any attention anymore!"

"So you're jealous. Of a boy who doesn't exist."

He groaned, keeping his face buried in your neck so you wouldn't see the embarrassing blush that fell over his cheeks, "Not jealous. Just want you." Before you could tease him any further, he leaned up to kiss you deeply.

"I'm the only one who's allowed to have you, no one else. Not even some damn fictional character."

LUFFY

He doesn't think much of it when you spend most of your free time reading. He doesn't feel threatened by anything or anyone when it comes to you, but he is also very confused by the concept of fictional characters. So when he hears you and Robin gushing about one, he is only intrigued by what you guys are talking about.

"Did you get to the part where..." Robin was asking you, rambling on about one of the scenes in the book.

"I did!" You gasped, "And I loved it. Especially what he did."

With Zoro napping, Sanji cooking, Chopper making more rumble balls, and Franky and Usopp working on the ship, Luffy had nothing better to do than come sit and listen to you and Robin. When he heard 'he', though, his interest was piqued.

"Who's 'he' (Name)?" He asked curiously.

You blushed at his question, unsure of how to explain this to your boyfriend, "He's, um, he-"

"He's (Name)'s fictional crush," Nami answered for you, shooting you a playful smirk. She knew damn well what she was doing, and your eyes widened.

"Luffy-"

"What's a fictional crush?" He blinked, confused.

"Nothing!" You quickly responded before Nami could open her mouth again, "It's really nothing, it's not important."

"It means (Name) likes a boy in the book she's reading," Nami continued, "The same way she likes you, Luffy."

"NAMI!" The glare you shot her could make sea kings tremble.

"But why?" Luffy questioned, "(Name) said I'm the only one she likes like that."

"And that is true," you agreed, smiling as you gave him a quick but loving kiss on his cheek. Sometimes you were grateful for Luffy's obliviousness.

"Good, because I would have just fought him for you."

SANJI

Sanji was happy to see that you had found something to occupy yourself with while he was busy, so he wouldn't feel guilty about leaving you alone so much. He would bring you snacks and refreshing drinks while you read, happy to serve you and keep you satisfied while you enjoyed your mental adventure. But a conversation between you, Nami and Robin changed everything.

"(Random Name) is so hot," you were gushing as Sanji arrived with another tray of drinks, "Like, unbelievably hot. And he's so sweet, too. Definitely boyfriend material."

While Nami and Robin eagerly agreed with you, Sanji almost dropped the tray he was holding. His eyes went wide at your words, and he felt his stomach churn.

"My love...who are you talking about?"

He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but why would you openly talk about some other man in front of him? Is this how you felt when you saw him give attention to other women? He swore he would stop right now if it meant this person wasn't real.

"A guy from the book I'm reading," you smiled up at him, but faltered when you saw the look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he shook his head and forced a smile, "I'm glad you're enjoying the book, love."

"Sanji, he's just a fictional character," you turned to face the cook completely, "I wouldn't really date him, even if he was real. You know I only love you, and you alone."

Your words were reassuring, and Sanji was grateful it wasn't any real person, but the words 'boyfriend material' rang in his head again. He set the drinks down. Then, unexpectedly, he got down on his knees and clasped his hands together in a begging gesture.

"(Name), my sweet, beautiful girlfriend that I love more than anything else in the world, I promise to stop looking at and flirting with other women if you stop reading that book!"

You raised an eyebrow, realising that he really was jealous of (Random Name), "You really mean that?"

"Yes yes yes! Please!"

"You better keep that promise."

"I will, because I'm only yours and you're only mine."

KAKU

With Kaku's job being...what it was, you spent majority of your time at home in Water 7 alone. He was almost always away on missions, leaving you with nothing to do but turn to books to occupy yourself during the day. So in the absence of your boyfriend, it was only natural you would be drawn to fictional men as a way of receiving affection.

Kaku didn't expect to come home and find downstairs neat but empty.

"(Name)?" He called out, frowning when he got no response.

He came upstairs, finding you asleep on the bed with a book clutched close to your chest. He looked at the title - it was a romance. That made him feel guilty; he knew you didn't like romances, and that you only read them when he wasn't around. He tried to remove it from your grip so he could cuddle you instead, but this action stirred you and you slowly sat up.

"Kaku?" You blinked the sleep out of your eyes, then smiled softly, "You're back. Hi."

"Hi," he replied sweetly, returning your smile. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"It's alright," you reassured him, "I didn't realise I fell asleep. Must have read until I passed out."

He chuckled at that, before gesturing to the book, "What were you reading about?"

"This?" You looked down at the book. "Oh, I just heard from a friend it was good. And that the main male character is swoon-worthy, which he is. I can see why she liked it."

At the mention of the male MC, Kaku felt an unjustified and unnecessary bout of jealousy swell up inside him. You liked the guy in the book? Maybe if he had been here you wouldn't.

"You don't have to be jealous you know," you started to smile playfully. "He doesn't compare to you."

"I'm not jealous," he tried to deny it, but his rosy cheeks gave it away. "It's a fictional character, why would I be jealous?"

"'It'?" You teased, pulling him closer to you. "So jealous you can't even give him a pronoun." You laughed, and the sound relaxed the tense CP9 agent.

"Ha, ha," he replied dryly, wrapping his arms around you. "Come here."

"I love you, and only you," you smiled and kissed his cheek.

"Good, because it will only ever be me and you."

#one piece #zoro x reader #zoro x you #roronoa zoro #sanji x reader #sanji x you #vinsmoke #ace x reader #ace x you #portgas d ace #luffy x reader #luffy x you #monkey d luffy #op #one piece x reader #one piece x you #op x reader #op x you #kaku one piece #kaku x reader #kaku x you

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 9

[prompt: problematic relationships]

male reader x nana

10k words

"Do you have any idea how long I've thought about it?" Nana slips a finger between the buttons of your shirt. "You, me - us?"

And here, you actually, truthfully do not want to know.

So, go ahead, cue up the sound of a mental rolodex spinning out while you start to list the very real, very valid, very adult reasons you should never, ever put your hands on her. (1) She's too young for you, (2) you're kind of a community figure, or at least someone who has to appear to be one, and more pertinently (3) she was your student not long enough ago - in your ethics class, the irony of which is not lost on you - and that makes it the kind of dirty, low thing you'd feel guilty for even masturbating to. Let alone actually attempt to live through, no matter how insistent some parts of you might be to the contrary, a point emphasized by the pressure of her finger against the dip just below your sternum.

"These... oh, how should I call them." Nana hums softly just before easing a bit of distance between the two of you, head tilting like she's in a trailer for this summer's romcom, and not, you know, trying to drag you into hell. "Filthy little fantasies?"

-

You're a high school teacher, interdisciplinary. Sometimes history, other times philosophy, you've also taught math - and once, egregiously, home economics when the faculty member whose usual duties consisted of teaching the class was out on a very sudden and scandalous maternity leave. But it's your love of literature that finds you in a bookstore near enough to the high school to sell more used copies of intro textbooks than actual novels.

You're paging through a book you'd say you're considering buying - if any of the store staff were to push the question onto you - when she appears at the other end of the fiction aisle.

You catch the look first of her dyed hair, this perfect shade of chocolate, to the edges, the fade-to-brown, cascading over where a more formal shirt would ostensibly have shoulders.

She smiles; it's pretty.

Then, you make the mistake of glancing down and seeing the modest rise of her chest beneath a crisp-collared sleeveless top; all your typical college-age tells but for the red flannel, rolled back down around her waist. Her fingers, long and thin, dangle from where a uniform button-down would taper off around her wrist, thumb rubbing lazily at her forearm. The briefest glimpse of her nails, all done up in acrylic - perhaps the most potent way to show contempt for an old dress-code.

You have, admittedly, also noticed the length (appropriately, the lack thereof) of her pleated skirt and those frilly stockings that ride so far up the creamy curves of her thighs that it has your stomach rolling and tightening when she shuts closed the book in her hands and says -

"Isn't it weird how most of the novels in the romance section are written by women?”

- she speaks with a slow deliberateness, like she'd only ever hoped to find one of her old teachers alone and slightly vulnerable in a used bookstore -

“Like, how do you think a man would even go about writing those kinds of stories?" She grins, because maybe this isn't really a question at all - not one meant for you, certainly. And for one wild moment, the rush of relief (she's not actually talking to you), then panic (she's actually talking to you.) surges through you.

But then the girl pushes another couple books along the shelf and continues.

"Because I'll tell you what, Professor - all this stuff," a flip-flip-flip of her fingertips against a leathery dustjacket, "about just feeling it, not being able to control it. It's all women, always women." Another wave of her hand to set another row of spines a-shuddering. "Do you ever think maybe people will get tired of listening to girls talking about feelings when what they really need to see is what guys would do?"

There are so many reasons you should turn and run. 

So many little flags, flickering wildly in your mind. This is one of your students. Was it this fall? Maybe the last; she had sat front-center. Never slept in, was one of your best by several measures - not simply in regards to the simple repetition of classroom work, but by her insistence on getting in the kind of heated discussion where one might dig their fingers through the innards of your lectures. Not just good - fantastic.

"Nayeon," you end up saying, flat as your suddenly paper-dry mouth can make it - with just the tiniest hint of unease. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

And almost as if she knows that you're trying not to let your eyes dip any lower than the collar of her shirt, her shoulders do that lilting little move (hiking up and away just so), the one that your girls tend to learn a long, long time before your boys ever manage to figure out. She laughs out this pleasant sound, adds: "not that long, sir."

"Well," you're clearing your throat, looking around the bookstore like it might contain a way out, and eventually landing somewhere on her skirt, "you know how fast it all goes."

"Nana, by the way."

“I’m sorry?”

“Nana,” She gently corrects you again with this mischievous slant to her smile, and you start remembering: all the gossip and rumors, how she was being courted by these talent-scouts and labels. A prodigy, or as close to it as anyone from this town could ever get.

Your eyes are starting to sting again when she, this perfect-fit model of your worst impulses, runs her hand through her hair, tugging at the roots a little bit, a silver wristwatch falling slightly down the perfect length of her forearm. It almost hurts not to reach out and steady her. And it definitely shouldn't, but it has you breathing a bit faster. The rationalization: you are a man, and there is a perfectly ordinary part of you that might be aroused by any amount of smooth, inviting skin. That's fine. You're fine.

"Just for the record," Nana starts, still looking like she wants to put a hand forward and hook one long fingernail into the buttons of your shirt. "You were, like, absolutely one of my favorite teachers."

"I guess it's nice to hear I'm not a complete lost cause," you say.

She snorts. "Oh, definitely not." And maybe because, after all of the years you have been teaching these soon-to-be lawyers, politicians, and doctors, you've come to not look down on them for saying the wrong things so much. Though you do envy their absolute ability to say the wrongest of things - just so - just on purpose.

"Are you," you nod at the thick stack of paperback novels that she is still holding, and with which, suddenly, she's bashful and flustered - this perfect shade of pink blossoming through her cheeks. "Actually here to buy those?"

The response: a demure little shrug. A drawl. "We all have our vices, professor."

"I'm not your teacher anymore," and remembering at the last moment, "Nana, you can drop the honorifics, please."

She holds a book out, cover turned toward you, and your mind stalls - even your fingers slip a little where they are resting on the spine of your own paperback purchase. The title is an affront to literacy, and the art on the cover seems to have been produced only with stock photos, gaudy.

"Have you heard of it?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Well," she laughs and has the courtesy not to lay it at your expense, "it is so good." Then, without missing a beat, she twists her lips together, and finds the book flush against your chest. "I'm sure it beats reading textbooks and essays about the merits of Locke and Hobbes' life-after-death stuff all day, anyway. An hour if you can spare the time? I'd love to hear your thoughts on it"

And - ah, there it is. The push.

-

There is a zero percent chance that, after any of this, things will end neatly for either of you. 

You still wonder, slightly, how long Nana will keep up the charade before breaking character - because there's no way in hell she doesn't see what she's doing: wrapping you around her pretty fingers, her shiny, manicured nails, twisting every chance you get to reject her into an excuse to linger that little bit longer.

But it's well over an hour spent at the cafe-end of the bookstore, where she orders an iced-coffee and fills you in on the details you don't really need to hear, what she's been up to these last couple semesters - playing twenty questions; questions about other faculty members, the school, if the school newspaper is still anything like it used to be (for the record: no), then coming back to if you've been seeing anyone lately. That last one slips in so naturally you can't stop yourself from taking a slow drag off of the straw in your drink and answering: "not recently."

Because no honest deed goes unpunished, or however the saying goes.

"Hey," her hands splay out over the tabletop, pushing the cold, condensing water of her glass, smudging where a finger drags a line through the pool.

Maybe she knows. How you're already caught, and there's no going back, which is to say you're perfectly free to watch, hungrily, where her throat moves, and then where her lips part.

"I’ve got the perfect thing for that," and for one unhinged, hysterical moment you picture it, Nana: lying back against a counter or maybe in the cushions of a sofa, panties thrown carelessly over her shoulder; heaving out this soft, heady gasp. You: pushing inside of her for the very first time, both of your legs bracing, the heel of her foot pressed into the small of your back - but before you can convince yourself that she can't be talking about that, and just barely before the air gets stuck in the back of your throat and you realize that you might be so thoroughly, tragically fucked -

"Read this." A snap back into the here and now. She is looking at you very pointedly, not naked - but beautiful and perfect as she leans a bit into the table and crosses those lovely, lovely legs of hers, and tilts the copy of that awful, awful filth at you.

"Nana, respectfully, this is drivel," you say, immediately and plainly, listening to Nana laugh out loud as you glean more than you need to know from the info on the inside cover. "They've crossed like five major genre boundaries for a hook-up. Why should anyone bother?"

"Come on." She waves it off with a careless gesture of her hands. "There's plenty of things to like. Maybe you should give it a chance - broaden your horizons, teach. Besides - the sex scenes?" She rolls her shoulders with the same shrug you remember watching so carefully all those times she made her way, out of the hallways and back into that front-and-center-seat she was always occupying whenever the bell rang. "So filthy. I can show you one of my favorites."

"Doesn't really seem like appropriate reading material for -"

"You said it yourself," her voice has a bright, saccharine tone, just on the right side of strained. And between sips of that straw stuck in the purse of her pert, little mouth, she draws that next sentence - the ice cracking, thinning under your feet -

"Not my teacher anymore."

Nana smiles; this brash, cock-sure thing that reminds you, as you try to clear your throat of the nerves making a bed there: you are actually so, so fucking gone on her. So far gone it hurts, when, with a flourish and a bounce and a complete, reckless lack of discretion, she starts paging through the first chapters.

"Who says you can't study these kinds of stories on an academic level? Think about it: sex sells. Whoever ends up writing, it's a whole lot easier and a hell of a lot cheaper than trying to do it all yourself." She looks up, this mischievous twinkle in her eyes, as she angles her fingertips down on the book and opens it - page after page of very obviously poorly-written sex. You look, not even consciously.

But of course, her fingertips drift lower and lower along the pages until it's evident: she doesn't have an exact page in mind, but only a particular passage -

"Here. Let me show you, just one."

"Alright, fine," you start - trying for an effect of exasperation, something to mitigate this god awful throbbing, "whatever - you get one, one sample paragraph and I'll, you know, whatever."

"Yeah, you'll definitely see. Just trust me. Just the one."

She drums her long, gorgeous nails against the table, then eases back with a finger highlighting the text.

You're screening and scanning the words as she tells you about the heroine in the story: a pretty girl who comes down with a bad case of infatuation for her teacher - unrequited, of course. And then, into a passionate affair, of course; all the most raucous, explicit details laid out over the table for everyone else to hear. She says it is about as nonchalantly as though she had been reading you the daily weather forecast and not an elaborate metaphor for - and here, you stop her.

"He cums on her desk?"

"Fucking hot, right?" She nearly snorts and gestures you onward, her eyebrows jumping - go on, go on.

So, you skim along: a heavy rush of nausea (alongside another) pulsing down around your gut at the thought of actually doing such a thing, your ears going hot and your legs crossing on instinct. There's not so much a breath of hesitation as Nana, cool, unfazed, and utterly unaware of the uncomfortable churning of your stomach and the simultaneous thrumming in your cock, takes another deep swig of coffee.

She hums, thoughtful. "Honestly? Kinda wished it happened to me like that. You were a good, good teacher, professor. I wouldn't have minded your hands all over me." You hear her laugh, and the entire universe collapses like the end-days. You are struck down with feverish conviction: this girl is the worst. 

"Anytime you wanted," she adds, so carelessly.

There's a clunking sound, of glass on wood; a half a second where you almost lose control over yourself.

“Nayeon,” you let slip, the old name - a mistake of an invitation she grasps like a weapon. All coming to a glint in her eye that says she knows how you see it, how you can still picture her sitting with her hands folded over the skirt of her uniform, chest rising and falling beneath her cotton shirt. Studious, taking notes, acting every bit the naive sweetheart everyone believed her to be.

You shudder out some pretense of composure and settle back a few inches as she continues to coax a reaction out of you, prodding: "how many girls did you make confess back then, hm? Did it ever do them any good?"

"Dial it back, Nana."

Her expression is all feigned, gentle surprise. "But sir," she looks at you so innocently, "you said I should drop the honorific."

You want to argue that, you also want to tell her off for being such a brat - to demand that, instead, she cut the shit, sit back, and remember who you both are, but when, with a wink and a smirk, she's getting up out of her seat, Nana sets a gentle, reassuring hand on your shoulder as she pushes her chair back beneath the table. You get onto your feet, and when the two of you are stood close together like this - she's really and truly that much smaller than you remember. Waist so tiny you think you could almost, almost wrap two hands all the way around her; skirt rising all too easily when she tosses her weight between her heels.

"I hope you know what you’re doing," you tell her, sternly - the voice of a teacher whose patience is running thin.

But no matter where you look, the consequences are dire and immediate: an abject fascination, a kind of debilitating greed; the absolute fucking loss of ability to look her directly in her eyes. Not like Nana isn't staring right through you. There's no doubt some part of her relishes the feeling.

"Hey, what do I know?" This sweet, demure-like chuckle follows. "It's just porn, right?”

-

Eventually, Nana says to call it a night because the sun's long set into the horizon and the chill starts getting at the both of you.

She tells you while you're packing up your belongings to come by again sometime, her voice teasing as she explains that you should pick out a new novel to read for your benefit.

Which is possibly the ideal outcome, all things considered, if it wasn't for the way she found herself in your hands just a few paces into the parking lot - no one around to catch you, where you're gripping fast onto her wrist and pressing the lines of her body into door of your car, looming and ready to give a piece of your mind.

You know what you ought to say - things like don't bother, you've enjoyed her company, she's fun and sweet, and in a dozen different ways: be a good girl, and go home. You had your fun, didn't you? But she's practically begging, those huge, wide doe eyes that stare straight up into your soul.

"C'mon,” her voice lilts into a deeper, more purposeful register, “you wouldn't turn down a student on her way home, would you?

(This fucking girl.)

She speaks of propriety, like you aren't a man of your own principles - like you aren't reaching down to press a kiss to the swell of her lips like she undoubtedly deserves. To lick into her mouth and pull and kiss and bite until she's trembling, teeth caught in a delicate whimper. Or, that you aren't running your hands down her sides to find the backs of her knees and draw them upward, hooking your hips flush against hers.

She's all too breathless, watching you draw off her lips, fingers fast in your shirt, your hair - holding you close.

Then finally, a true, honest reflection of your heart. Nothing less than sheer and utter capitulation: "let me take you home."

Nana just nods before wrapping her arms around your neck and kissing you again.

-

It's definitely on you for expecting anything different, but Nana fucks like she talks.

Conceited. Brash. A little selfish.

The girl's sitting there on her kitchen counter with one leg hooked over your shoulder. She's stripped herself down to near nothing save for those fuck-off ridiculous panties: slick, shiny with a thick strip of satin between her lips, complete with white lace frills and all; the same ridiculous pattern as the thigh-high stockings clinging tight around the soft-gentle fat of her legs and the lace top of her garter. Her pussy - all tight and pink and soaked - has left this shimmering, shiny mess that's trailing down the insides of her thighs.

Your fingers are in the elastic of her panties, near bruising the curve in her waist where she's rocking, flushed and keening against your grip.

You tell her, "take these off."

"Off?" She repeats it back to you with the same little grin: playing dumb, the smart, charming ass she's been all night.

"I'd tell you what I really want to do to you," you start, pushing your fingers in a little harder, eliciting another pretty moan. "But I'm really, really sure you can fill in the blanks yourself.

"I hope you're not planning on being rough with me," she teases, running her hands all through your hair as she pulls herself against you - and of course, it's her audacity to insist, "no marks." She drops a chaste little kiss along the underside of your jaw. "At least, nothing that might show up on a camera."

Someone with a little less baggage might have done just that. Might have jerked her panties down a couple inches further - ripped the cloth, exposed her even more. You might have followed the waistline further along the perfect round of her ass, found those dips and dimples that, maybe, no one else has ever gotten to explore. You may have grasped at the ends of her hair and gotten your fingers in her pussy without ceremony - driven Nana to the very brink of her climax just before palming two greedy handfuls of that ass - shoving yourself right there between her lips and, lost to shame, put a fucking kid in her.

All the things she must be dying for you to do.

"Something the matter?" She pushes her mouth into yours for a kiss that has all the urgency of a lazy Sunday morning. Your tongue against hers, languid and gentle at first; wet-sloppy, kissing and sucking on her bottom lip. You can feel her smirking when she says, "don't tell me you've forgotten how."

It's a lot, the effort you're putting in not to crumble - to crack at her taunts, snap your restraint, the temptation. You just wanna grab her pretty tits in both hands, shake her, and say: "shut the fuck up." But no - even in your wildest fantasy, you want to hear her first - beg you to make a wreck of her. So you force the words between your lips, dry and cracking:

"Not a fucking chance."

A laugh. "Guess I'm in good hands, then. Have to admit," Nana slides her hands down to hook under your own, bringing them lower. She grinds your fingers in slow circles over that one, aching, perfect little bud - a shock that has her curling tight inward until she's whining, clutching at her waist. "Not the - not the situation I had in mind."

Nana shifts her weight a bit more on one hip, guiding you through rubbing along the entrance to her slit - sloppy with precum, silky and aching - and when you place just the lightest pressure over all that hot skin, she opens her mouth: 

"Ah."

Her eyes, her hair, her fucking mouth - you can’t look away - she’s so gorgeous it hurts.

Even the way she pants; the perfect furrow between her brows. And then, you dip a finger inside her, just to the first knuckle. It’s enough to make her whine, all shaky and high.

"Go on then, with how you’d pictured it," you press, already easing your digit in and out; slow, slick pumps that she is growing hotter, needier around. "I'm sure you've touched yourself to it more than a few times. The details and - stuff - must have been vivid."

"You haven't the slightest clue."

A brief kiss. You coax another shy sound from her, drawing a long sigh against her mouth -

"Try me, Nayeon."

"This is a lot closer to the truth than you’d think, professor." This time, no correction, she just smiles wide and tosses her head back, asking, sweetly, as if to absolve you of the responsibility. "Do you have any idea how long I've thought about it? You, me - us?" 

Nana slips a finger between the buttons of your shirt and starts to pull.

On that detail, you actually, truthfully do not want to know.

"These... oh, how should I even call them." She hums softly just before easing a bit of distance between the two of you, head tilting like she's in a trailer for this summer's romcom, and not, you know, trying to drag you into hell. "Filthy little fantasies?"

"You know," you start. And by this point, her cunt's that much tighter. You've managed two fingers now, but no further, and she's making these desperate, punched-out gasps. Her clit's a swollen pink nub, jutting out from its soft hood. "I really had you pegged all wrong."

"Not - not at all. You can fuck me just fine, trust me - ah. Please, you can fuck me anyway you want."

And here, you grab a little higher on her hips, pinching her on the outside of a thigh, and begin working your fingers fast. You've never cared much for teasing, not really, but something about the way she squirms in your grip, tries to lean up and grasp onto your shoulders with shaking hands, it gets you smiling. It gets you grinning, even, especially the way she makes these pretty noises: a long, desperate little, "ah," at each press and thrust, her breath going high and uneven. 

"Listen, Nana -" She squeals out loud when you push your fingers just a little deeper, a little bit harder. "I'm not going to talk about what a slut you've been today or how badly I want to spread you wide open," you can already tell it's affecting her: the sudden change, the subtle hitch in her breathing, the tremor where her thighs press together. "Tell me about you, about your little ideas. Let me help."

"Wouldn't be fair." Her pussy's getting tighter, urgent with want. And still:

"C'mon now. Humor me a little. There was probably-" you say, sliding down that ridiculous pair of underwear along her ass, tugging them over the curves of her legs - so slow and easy, all while you're not bothering with easing off. Nana moans again; voice pitched. "Lots. Lots and lots of dirty things - and, I'm willing to bet my career that they made you a hot, mess - an awful, soaking fucking wreck. Who could've guessed? You, of all people, with just the right kind of teacher's-pet-appeal, hm?"

And you meant it to be a joke, just some ribbing. But the question has her immediately tensing, looking at you very intently, no trace of shame as she snaps back -

"Your mouth." She rocks forward. "Your fucking mouth."

You shouldn't keep touching her, you shouldn't keep staring, you shouldn't push her flat on her back and shove your face right into her cunt, you should pull away before this goes too far - it shouldn't be your fingers drawing out sopping-wet gasps out of her pussy, nor should you press your tongue to her cunt, your mouth to all that delicate flesh and, at your first taste, shiver.

Nana laughs: shaky, nervous. Then, your fingers sink back into her pussy alongside your tongue, your lips, the way even your hot breath against her aching pussy has her all stunned, breathless - and -

"Please."

- right before she breaks off into a beautiful sound that catches her hard in the chest.

(A sound like you’re all she could ever want in this life, maybe the next; it’s this wordless plea.)

"Hah, I had - ah, had so much - hah - dirt on you, used to masturbate thinking - ah," and there, she arches her spine, forcing a sigh out, "thinking about how you might punish me." She laughs - nearly choking. "How you might break down all your veneer of being a good, moral man and fuck me raw and rough and - ah - fuck. Oh god, fuck."

You twist your fingertips up just so, right against this perfect spot in her, and all the sudden the entire line of her body seizes - stiffens up, the muscles in her thighs twitch as you both moan through the moment, the spasms reverberating in your own ears, loud and unashamed, right against her wet, wet clit. Your fingers are fucking and fucking and fucking away in her cunt, harder and faster and sloppier, every word, every groan, every gasped breath only making it easier to forget. To give in. And with every heavy slap and squelch of your fingertips digging in as deep as her body allows - you're sending her that much closer.

You pull back long enough to bite out: "cum whenever you want, Nana.”

She can’t, she can’t, she can’t, is what she’s trying to say, bracing against how your tongue moves around her clit, and she knows, there’s no use fighting it.

A kiss against her swollen mound and she writhes. “There you go sweetheart, cum for me.”

Nana comes undone. Gradually at first, then vaulting over that edge all at once. She lifts and lowers her hips - pushing your fingers into the smooth, velvety muscles of her cunt; rocking up and up again. It's a torturously slow kind of grinding, and her feet find purchase on either side of you as her toes curl, one heel digging into your shoulder. An assurance; a promise; a lifeline; that she might tremble and shake through it, moaning.

“Fuck,” and, “god,” and, “you’re gonna make me-” slip past her lips alongside all the assured gasped-out cries for relief - the orgasm sweeping through her, tearing her apart.

Back pitching, shoulders narrowing, face twisting, cinching tighter and tighter -

Until she collapses.

Until it’s over.

As she lays there, chest heaving, arm draped carelessly across her forehead and half over a kitchen cutting board - her thighs splayed open, fucked and spent - she's so, so beautiful.

And it’s in that sort of fucked-up-noodly-state where she just slides right into your arms - those long, slender legs wrapping tight around your middle. "Here's the deal," you say, grabbing hold of her hips and steadying her, as best as either of you can.

"Hm." This lazy, sated look, the way her tongue's dragged out - slow and slick - across the top of her teeth and bottom of her lips. "Go ahead, sir. I'm listening."

The lip service - that coy little appeal to authority that maybe you’re actually plenty fond of - it makes you stop for the barest of moments. This girl, she's unreal. How hard could you ever be asked to resist her?

She lifts a brow. "Professor."

So you continue:

"I'm going to get out of these clothes, and we are going to see what happens after that - if you have a preference for the bed or the sofa, now's your chance to pipe up. Or else -"

"Or else-" She repeats, shifting her weight around again. You can feel how she adjusts her heels to hang higher up your ribs, rocking her weight against your abdomen, against your cock - and the instinctual twitch that runs through your spine is turgid and rough. Like a shot. If it had a smell, it'd probably remind you of gasoline.

And then, maybe just to rile you up even more: "the dining room table makes a good impression of a teacher's desk, no?"

You slide your hand along the backs of her thighs until you have a good, tight, high hold on them and pick her up, leaving the panties, the stockings, all of it down where they can gather dust or whatever - she giggles, and tightens her hold around you like she doesn't need to worry about falling.

"I'd rather fuck you into a mattress to be perfectly candid."

Nana throws back her head and laughs - this real, honest-to-goodness peal of laughter, a hint of playfulness where there was usually just a practiced ease. "Oh. So forward."

(In all likelihood, you're both going to hell, and on the off chance you meet down there, you figure you'll fuck her then, too.

You've read the myths, the Greek tragedies, the ones that have these gods descending from the heavens on human women, for pleasure and nothing but, you've read those stories and plenty more - the details don't matter: it's always a bad, bad end for everybody involved.)

She takes you upstairs. And the two of you fall through the doorway to her bedroom, stumbling all the way.

Her apartment is simple and clean in the way all young adults try to emulate, all white countertops, but with pictures hanging in little, neat rows on the walls and the space void of anything with some sort of character or history.

You know because you're fumbling toward a dresser or desk or bookshelf in an attempt to orient yourselves, bumping and tussling, half-blind, on your path forward and all of a sudden there's a goddamn framed photo in your hand - not of her family, thank god. Though just about every other person in the picture is familiar to you, you remember every single one - but all you're capable of focusing on is Nana, Nayeon: not quite the same. The same glint in her eyes, the way her smile has a timeless kind of quality, the faint dimples in her cheeks. 

And some wicked part of you is all too willing to ignore the whole timeline of events that has led up to you, Nana, like this: you want to pull her hair. You want to shove her around like she doesn't matter - is in any way disposable or replaceable; the most selfish parts of you wishing you could keep her pinned down by her slender neck; pressing a palm, bruising, into her collarbone as you start to work at your belt buckle and slacks with your other hand.

It's hard, getting a grip on yourself as Nana, sliding onto her bed and rolling across the sheets, pulls her stockings down the length of her legs - only stopping herself long enough to meet your eyes. Her throat bobbing.

“Of course,” she says, because your cock is hanging out by that point, straining and a little pent-up. "I fucking knew you would have a perfect cock."

"Flattery or sincerity?"

"Um, let's say both." She shifts around the pillow - that sweet little pout on her lips. Her gaze dropping from your mouth and running all along the length of your torso, lower and lower. Like her hands. And when her eyes flick up to meet yours, just when you're stroking at your cock, base and shaft, teasing yourself, well past the point of pretense, a devious smile spreads wide across her pretty, beautiful face. The implication: you aren't leaving here until you're cumming inside her.

And with a glimmer in her eyes, the sheer audacity, her fingertips ghost the underside of your cock as she draws up toward the head, "you're going to ruin me with this thing. You know that right?"

"A bit dramatic."

Nana moves to rest with the tops of her knees at the edge, her chin resting against the insides of her wrists, elbows propped up - poised, playful, everything she should be as the both of you regard each other a moment longer. "Can you blame me? It's not just that it's huge, I mean - I've barely even gotten a hold of it, and yet... god," she snorts. Her eyelids are heavy, mouth curved, almost a snarl as she drags her bottom lip through the grip of her teeth and sinks down onto the mattress.

"Say something filthy again," and this is a test, this is Nana testing you to see what exactly you'll get away with.

(Hint: it's a whole lot.)

She sighs. The image of indigence, innocence, everything pure and good you couldn't hope for. "Should I suck it or not? Or maybe, I don't know. Would you prefer me to beg for it first, ask if you'll put it in? Like, I think if you ordered me to put it in my mouth, right now, I wouldn't be able to say no."

"Really," the most sarcastic answer.

"Really," she continues. "For instance. If you came over here right now and guided me up and onto your dick and told me, specifically, that you were going to face-fuck me? I couldn't say no. No sir."

You could have her any damn way. You could have her, and you both know it.

"So tempting," you tease, mostly in earnest, "maybe another time, when my self-control isn't quite so lacking."

Nana hums a low, flippant sort of noise - like: whenever you're ready - and just how much trouble it gets you in, the mere suggestion, is what she is banking on.

"Hey," is her invitation, "I won't beg yet. You still want me to put my mouth all over it," and to emphasize, she slips her fingers between the plump pillows of her lips, smiling at how that makes you reach over the nightstand, accidentally pulling open a drawer, possibly reaching for the first aid kit, "or would you rather watch me stuff all these fingers in my wet, little hole."

A sharp inhale: it really would be fun, probably, but you can't take it.

"Nana," this voice, gravelly-ragged and harsh, "if you're planning to make me snap, you are, without question, on the right track."

"Then before that happens," she says, pulling you down into the bedsheets beside her. Your body flush against hers, the beat of her heart loud against your own; this gorgeous, pristine girl, so nakedly giving - this is an honor and a curse all rolled up together, no doubt.

And after a hot, wet kiss: "fuck me like I always thought you would."

(She was made to be like this; it's the only explanation.

Made for wanting. Made for fucking. Made to be loved and made to have her cunt fucked full - ruined by your fingers, your tongue, your cock. This absolutely perfect body, and all the delicious parts of her; this thing of desire, bashful and coy and that deserves all the world and, having none of the grace or courtesy to actually beg, orders, like she always knew she could:

"Like, right fucking now."

Or else.)

Then you're there - her hot mouth, her cunt, your fingers digging in bruising-tight all along the curve of her thighs where they meet her ass, hips, thighs, waist. She's pumping her soft palm and delicate fingers, slick with her spit and yours around the length of you and this isn't going to last long; not that there's any doubt you're going to leave her sore. But still, you drag the head of your cock across the swollen lips of her pussy, down through the plump swell of her clit until it rests where the ridge just begins and every slide, every pressure along every inch of your cock, the thought of being enveloped entirely in all that silky warmth is nearly the end of you.

A whimper, "professor."

You wrap your hands tighter around the smooth, firm muscles in her thighs; dragging your fingers back and forth across the supple skin there - just firm enough to elicit a reaction from the tension in her legs, until you have her flipped over on her stomach. Because if you're going to fuck her properly, it's going to be with her face buried deep into a pillowcase and you perched above her, holding her down against the sheets.

You watch her get her elbows underneath her, laying almost flat. Watch her trace the shape of her own jaw, her nose, her neck - the smooth expanse of her chest - as you straddle her thighs. With her ass pointed right up at you and the heel of her ankle gently grinding into the underside of your leg, you groan, placing both hands just above her ass. And once you're gripping the whole shape of her, you push your cock into her, just an inch, listening to the shift in her breathing.

She shudders, "don't tease - oh, please, sir-"

"Is this what you expected, Nana?" You grab onto her hair. Then again, when she tries to get her hands on herself. Her shoulders are high, tight. You just don't give her a chance; pushing yourself another inch, a couple. The pace, so gradual she starts making these soft, little breathless sounds as you stretch her tight pussy open. A few moments when she stops trying to bury her noises, her gasps - stops trying to angle her hips or squeeze or resist the thick shape of your cock where it is so, so hot and full inside of her - and there you stop. "What is it you had in mind, hm?"

"Ngh - oh."

Her cunt's clamping tight around just the first few inches of you. The tightness, the wet heat is staggering; how it pulls and begs with the words she seems reluctant to spill out.

So - you lift a hand, bringing it back down again onto the pale, rounded flesh of her ass with a smack, a gasp, and this wet sound from the sopping heat of her pussy, all aching and sobbing, "don't, fuck, stick it - fuck, put it - just. Just fucking get on top of me and pin me down - make it hard for me to breathe - do it, just. Like I, fuck, like I always wanted, sir, please-"

And you sink all the way in.

"Fuck." She bites into those consonants, a whole-body motion that pulls at the tension in her spine, the muscles in her legs. But her hips angle right up, and she presses her ass into the hollow of your abdomen and says, "thank you. Thank you. God."

"Don't get lazy on me," you say, grinding the tip of your cock in little circles; pulling it out and angling it down until it's prodding at all the right places to make her arch and shiver.

"Please," she says again, louder this time, almost a moan. "That. Fuck. Yes. It's."

"Yes, yes, I know. Nana, you-"

"Just use me. Whatever you like," she pants; then, once you've pulled yourself out to the tip, slowly filling her again, "use me like a fucktoy, alright. Because - fuck," Nana shivers, pushing her hips into yours. Her shoulders lower, as if by degrees, "please. Use me. Make it rough. Please, professor - use me however you want, I don't care - anything's fine with me - use me, as long and as much as you need, I. Please."

The real difference here, beyond anything else, is that this is no longer the game it was; the very instant she was sprawled across the mattress with a line of drool dripping into the sheets, all her bright, polished glory has vanished, leaving this bare edge of her exposed - the girl who lives solely to be fucked and used by your cock, her cunt leaking, begging for more. Reduced to the basics and nothing else.

"Your fucking cunt, Nana, the goddamn clench - you feel - it's-" (So fucking good, is what you can’t quite say, because she’s tight and wet and her tiny pussy is quivering like mad every time you bathe your cock in its scorching heat. Over and over.) It’s hard to think; you’re truly - truly - fucking her, but you can’t ignore the tautness in her spine either, bent below you. There are probably tears beading down her cheeks, but there's no helping the raw instinct screaming through the core of her being, pleading with you to pull yourself free, before sinking hilt-deep into her again, again, again - to a chorus of sloppy, loud, nasty, fucking whimpers and moans.

Like music. 

It's easy after all, how her pussy gives way to you. How she molds around you - sleeves onto you like a glove - like there was only one cunt in the world you should ever be fucking up and fucking apart. 

"It's incredible. Fuck. Just that perfect."

Nana, as best as she can, trying to stay steady, braced against her hands and knees, is raising her hips.

But it's clear with the way she's slipping all over, slicking the sweat off her palms and rocking her ass back into your thrusts, a cry falling out of her, unbidden, when she speaks and not.

"Please," she pants, through tears probably, this breathy-shivering. A renewed enthusiasm for your grip on her - where, in another place, you'd worry about leaving marks behind - for the feeling of your weight slamming down into her, driving the air from her lungs.

The sheets are a crumpled mess, pillows knocked from the mattress, where the two of you are shaking it apart.

You're pulling her apart, slowly, thrust by thrust into her sopping cunt, and in a promise of how you'll put her back together, you get your mouth on her shoulders, her neck, kisses in her hair, behind her ear - Nana just whimpers, curling her toes and ankles along the backs of your knees, her face against the pillow and gasping, "thank you - thank - thank-"

And when your palm smacks against the generous swell of her ass, again, she keens so perfectly for you.

It's a breathtaking sight, so good, so perfect: her flawless ass pitched high, round and flushed pink. The flutter of her eyelashes and the tears and drool. The outlines of her pale white cheeks sent into ripple after ripple, and then the way you can slide one hand forward between her shoulder blades and slip it into her hair, nails raking her scalp, grabbing a handful of hair in your fist and tilting her face - to the side, enough for her cheek against the pillow and the way her hips try to press against yours; try to chase the pleasure; this brash, gorgeous, slim-waisted, well-curved, exquisite young woman - like everything.

"Please," is all she says as you fit your chest up tight to her back and mouth at her neck - lick all along the sweat. "Please."

You can't take it anymore, can't keep watching this masterpiece, can't stand the molten heat wrapped around your cock every time the drag in and out of her pussy pulls sets every nerve on fire. Right in her ear: "I'm cumming, Nana, I'm cumming inside this tight, little pussy."

A short gasp, "yeah."

"Yeah. Inside, Nana. Cum inside, you -" You twist your fingers against her scalp and find purchase, an excuse - a means to yank her head around and lean into her, teeth against skin, that familiar coiling in your gut and the burning sensation that flows right alongside every slap and smack of her hips on your skin.

"Fuck me." You watch her bite down, swallow a sound, try to say: "fuck your load so deep inside me it’ll be all I think about for weeks, let me feel it, all that hot, all that sticky, fucking cum"

And you drag your hips, these final, punishing drags through her drenched cunt. Her fingers are white knuckled and fisting the sheets, until the very second you've pressed every ounce of your own body's worth into her own, when you're collapsing her spine and pushing her face into the bedspread, this wave rushes through your ears like the buzz and hum of insects and waves and things out of sync - the high, the peak -

And then:

Sobering, subjugating silence.

In fact, you're shuddering; You're cumming, spilling pools of thick cum deep inside of her. It's all in that warm, filthy sensation, a heady, hazy, desperate thrill when her own cunt seizes in its climax around you, trembling, throbbing, quivering, clenching; drawing everything out and taking your cock deeper - even while the whole of her is thrashing and bucking, all of this messy with her pleasure and her voice caught up, writhing and breathless.

"God-" is the last thing out of her mouth before you can kiss it quiet, tug on her lower lip and open her up like a present - messy and breathy, crying out, you're making this mess inside, this beautiful fucking mess - as the whisper you feel against your lips:

"Inside me, like that."

As you groan, deep and hot, "filthy fucking cumslut-"

Right on the verge, riding out every twitch of your cock and each flex of your hands at the skin around her ass, her waist, back and shoulder blades; even after you've caught your breath, you keep pumping more and more inside of her, you don't stop, won't, and even when you manage it, pulling out the head of your cock - you can feel every slick detail - just the slit and rim, resting the throbbing head of your cock at her swollen little mound, feeling the length of her fucked-out pussy spasm at the emptiness and trying to grasp around nothing - empty, tight and aching, sopping.

There's her hips, just this, right there; the line, the silhouette. Her thin waist and the curvy swell of her ass, jutting out straight - the cream-colored flesh dusted pink. The lithe, soft line of her stomach and the insides of her thighs a little farther along, sweaty and inviting.

She's so pliant in your grip, even though she's trying her best to curl herself backward - to angle your spent cock back into the ready, welcoming warmth of her slick, wet pussy - and once the afterglow has begun to wear away, that same greed and yearning takes its rightful place. A glimmer in her eyes. The unmistakable need and drive.

"One more," she says, wiggling her hips back into your stomach. "For me."

(The truth: you can't refuse her, not as she bites her lip and twists, all that soft hair splayed across her face, stuck to her tear-damp skin.

One more, because you both still want it. One more, because in the dim glow and evening air of her bedroom, everything that happens now matters just as much as anything that happened before.

One more, because you need her again.)

-

When she wakes in the dark, you figure her bed will be empty.

Nana will realize that you're gone. Of course you’ll be - it was never going to go differently; the sex had to end at some point. After all, if you stayed, eventually she'd start saying something you'd find a fault in or your skin would be so sensitive she couldn't stand not running a finger up your spine and maybe kissing your hip.

The reasons to go always outnumbered the reasons to stay.

The world would catch up and someone would find out and that's the sort of gossip that might leave both of your careers in shambles. Or else, you'd do something you couldn't come back from, the moment the heat of the sex left your body and her cunt, god, her perfect little cunt was spent - slackening - and the moments-after-haze, her legs locked up and her arms a bit sore, would clear up. Then you'd look at her, or else the shame would win out - the guilt and you'd call it quits. She won’t blame you. She can't.

-

But then again,

Her heart won't fall completely to pieces, because:

You've stayed. And it isn't an easy position, even if she is easy.

Here she is, though: sleeping on her side with her wrists crossed in front of her face - peaceful and quiet, probably tired enough to sleep without dreams. The dark has long since settled across her bedroom, save the pinpricks of stars in the sky out her window and a sliver of moonlight. You can see her, or you could reach out and run your hands all along her calves and thighs, but you don't.

Nana's shoulders slump forward in the faintest of sighs, and there it is - the slow, gentle swell and fall of her chest.

-

Here's how you got here:

In this scandal-in-waiting of a relationship. Here's the stupidest possible path, where a bright-eyed student with a crush fucks her older professor just once, and somehow you both find yourselves coming back for more, like maybe your very, very bodies belong together - a maddening compulsion.

Even once you've managed to work through the idea of your cum all inside of her, a seedy, twisted corner of your mind murmurs how it makes the most sense. To stick your cock inside of her again.

Where she can show you the way it can look; the mess and the texture of the slick, white spill - dribbling out of her pussy in the afterglow, onto her palm, and down the crevice in her ass and lower.

It's the phone calls probably - and not just the phone sex - late-night talking, conversation and every once in awhile, the kind of hot, hard fucking that gets you in trouble, but also a reason to be with each other again. Not just the quick fucks but the nice ones - the days, the late nights and mornings and what have you: all the casual intimacy of it. All the sweet nothings exchanged.

The after-sex cuddling, with her straddling your lap;

The sensation of her thighs sliding into place around the tops of your legs, her arms tucked around your neck;

The kisses you don't take and kisses you'd be okay with, all the promises made to love you as many times as necessary, however necessary, wherever.

That's all here too.

Again:

She is young. But, who the fuck are you to say? Who the hell can tell you she doesn't deserve the least rotten, least painful, most promising love she can find in this particularly fucked-up world?

Who else is going to keep the both of you safe and hidden?

And who else, despite everything, seems to like having a secret that they're sure only you know; every glance or accidental touch with her eyes brimming, alive, and the whole of her bent like a bow-string - all held back and wound-up tight.

To the point her spine will shiver and shake; you know how it can be.

-

"Are you actually going to buy those?" Nana asks one day, dangling on her toes, chin rested comfortably in the sweep of your shoulder.

When she crowds the swell of her hip and her breasts and her entire body into your back and snakes her arms around your shoulders, you think there's nothing else in the world you need.

"You called them drivel," she adds, almost pouting - which is a look you're slowly trying to inoculate yourself against because the moment it comes up, you have a knee-jerk reaction to drop anything and everything and carry her off someplace else. To have a place where she could, could, could -

"Hah," you roll your eyes, not taking the bait. There's a shelf-full of campy, smutty romance novels in the dollar bin. "It is. The story was less than complicated, but I couldn't figure out what the hell two or three characters' plotlines had to do with one another, and sometimes you just want a little guilty pleasure, you know?"

"Ooh. So," Nana smiles, the devious sort. "I guess there is some honesty in you after all."

"Come on, this one at least has an original story," and it is a shameless attempt, "plus-"

"I know, I know. Fine. And if it is so terribly bad, well, I suppose I can use your chest as a pillow to take a nap," she says, before throwing this particular glance over her shoulder.

The cashier doesn't need to ask if the two of you want your copies of 'Wild West of the Heart' or whatever-the-fuck this one is titled, scanned separately.

All of that, those paperback-cover love stories and TV drama plots, these are the sorts of things you do just for Nana; as the two of you wait in long lines, get carried along, get bumped and pushed, like every other ordinary-person thing you've done for her ever since.

("Honestly, this isn't my kind of thing either," you tell her in the aisle of a grocery store once. The fluorescent lighting only accentuates the blush high on her cheeks. "don't make me fuss over something like this."

"Have a little sympathy," she insists, nudging the handle of the shopping cart against the inside of your shins. "A girl like me isn't good for much else.")

It's not romance, really, that's such a fucked up way to go about describing any of it, but then there's Nana, bouncing on her heels and prattling on, this girl in the spring of her life who is full to the brim and bursting with the most chaotic and eclectic sorts of thoughts and passions -

So, what.

"Really," she adds - another side, another angle on an issue the two of you had an hour ago while cooking breakfast. "Just, think about it. Would you honestly put all this effort into somebody who doesn't make you laugh at least as much as they irritate you? Because like, you would never tolerate some self-obsessed jerk long enough to eat their burnt, terrible pancakes every day of the week."

"Fine. Maybe." You sit across the table. "You're right."

Nana blinks and this look of wonder crosses her face as she grins. A moment of triumph for her and that was more than the honest truth. It's still strange, admitting defeat in any argument here or there, or that the two of you make an actual decent couple - together. The kinds of things that come naturally to other people.

"Any more caveats to all of this, professor?"

"You’re gonna end up bent over that counter again if you keep pushing it, kid."

The both of you break out laughing and then you finish your coffee, or she stabs the last few pieces of cantaloupe on her plate, or you kiss her neck, and just -

Everything.

#wooah smut #nana smut #kwon nayeon smut #el7z up smut #kpop smut #male reader #capslocked kinkvember #woo ah smut #woo ah nana smut

[maximwtf]

“Fret not, all will be well.”

Xianyun x Reader

Words: 2k

Google Docs Pages: 3

Warnings: chronic (joint) pain but I guess the mentions are very brief, could just go as a sickfic, hurt/comfort angst you know the usual. Mother is mothering

Opening: Having been Xianyun’s disciple for years, you finally move to the harbour. Though, trips to Mt. Aocang to see your master started to feel like a chore after your body started to ache. Word of this pain spread to her unknownst to you. This making the adeptus seek you out. 

AN// Reader can be any gender! Oh no, is that another very self indulgent fanfic I see?! Yes. But these help with the bane of my existence so I might as well keep making them. This also gives me a chance to learn how to write for her, because I’m a firm believer that more content of her is needed :”D. I found her way of speaking hard to follow up on without hearing her talk constantly, so I apologise if any of her lines seem off. 

I proof read this fairly quickly, so any mistakes are on that.

“Fret not, all will be well.”

After years of studying the adeptus arts with Cloud Retainer, you moved back to Liyue Harbour. Got yourself a comfortable house to live in, and built your new life around there. From time to time you would still visit the all too familiar mountain that your master ruled. You’d sometimes bring in notes and greetings from Shenhe and Ganyu whenever they couldn’t find the time in their busy lives to visit the crane. An overall nice set up you’d gotten yourself into. 

You couldn’t deny that the scenery along the way to Mt. Aocang was also beautiful, bringing you joy as you made your way each time. As rough as the trip from time to time was, it was always worth it in the end. You could tell the visits delighted the adeptus living alone, bringing her peace of mind to hear that her disciples were doing alright. 

Though as of recent, you had found it hard to make it all the way to her. Body aching badly enough to not even make you dare to try. You began giving your regards to Cloud Retainer through Ganyu or Shenhe instead, staying home and working as you’d usually. Though, as much as you had hoped otherwise, the condition seemed to worsen over time. 

But even with life getting harder due to the aches, you couldn’t find it in you to complain. After all, you lived comfortably and didn’t feel the need to bother anyone with this. Maybe even still hoping that this would eventually pass. That having been one of the main reasons why you hadn’t told Cloud Retainer why you stopped visiting her like you’d done in the past. 

But even with the hopeful mindset, you had to admit to yourself that doing daily tasks had become more challenging. You'd already taken a few days off work to rest, but that hadn’t helped as much as you had hoped. Your form ached just as much each morning, having to find the extra courage to get up and prepare breakfast. 

So in hindsight, the fact that the news of your worsening condition had spread shouldn’t have been as much of a surprise as you’d taken it as. Especially with how close you were with the people around you. Them figuring out something was wrong was no surprise. 

Though, you didn’t notice any of that happening. Being busy enough with keeping your daily routines together. 

And that was exactly what you were doing this morning. Sitting up from your bed with muffled groans, eyes tired from the lack of sleep. With a yawn you attempted to gently stretch, wiping your eyes to maybe rub away the exhaustion behind them. You didn’t know if it ever actually went away at this point, but you stayed hopeful. 

As normal as this morning had been so far, it was going to turn upside down soon enough. And that happened as soon as a knock echoed from your front door. It alerted you, chasing away the last bits of sleep from your mind as you took a hold of your nightstand to stand up. 

You stumbled with the first few steps, cursing to yourself silently before shaking the nagging attitude off for whoever was at your door. With a deep breath you tried to pull something that resembled a smile on your face before opening the door to see who was on the other side. But that facade of a smile soon fell when you saw your master standing outside, patiently waiting for you. 

Your eyes widened for a brief moment, trying to quickly collect yourself as to not embarrass yourself in front of her. “Good morning, master.” You began, watching as her keen eyes looked around your house quickly before landing on you. “May one come in? Perhaps join you for breakfast?” She asked, a polite invitation with a clear hidden meaning. But who were you to decline her offer, after not being able to go and see her yourself for such a long time. “Ah, of course. Come in.” You mentally sighed, stepping out of her way as she walked through the threshold. 

Her feather-like clothing swayed smoothly as she made her way to your kitchen, seeing how messy it looked. You cringed at seeing the dishes you’d avoided cleaning, knowing it would put a strain on your body and even the thought of that felt unwelcoming. But it most certainly was not a good look for you in her eyes. But she was kind enough not to mention it, hiding the scowl mixed frown from her face before turning to you. 

“Word of you got to one, making one wish to come and see you.” Xianyun said, seating herself on one of the chairs gracefully. You didn't know what she was talking about. Not having any memory of talking to Ganyu or Shenhe about yourself, you weren’t so sure what she’d heard and from who. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean, master,” you replied before turning your back to her in an attempt to prepare tea for the both of you. Still fully listening to what she had to say. “One heard you had fallen ill, thus making you unable to visit.” She said, voice observant as she watched you gently. You cringed at the explanation, assuming the people around you must have spread the word around. “Ah, I see. Well, worry not for I am perfectly fine.” You hummed, taking a hold of the cups with a low hiss. You hadn’t had the time in the morning to mend yourself into a better shape before making something to eat. So these tasks hurt to do, but there was no way to explain this to Cloud Retainer in simple means. 

But perhaps you didn’t have to explain. The hiss and careful movements must have been enough for her to form a deeper frown on her face once more. “One does not recall teaching one’s disciples to lie, hm.” She said with a huff, some offence in her tone but you knew it wasn’t serious. You were more worried when you heard her stand up. You swallowed hard, turning to see her after placing down the cups. “One may not know every mortal illness, but that does not mean one is blind.” She continued, placing her hands to her hips. You weren’t sure what she was looking to gain from this, drawing in a deep breath. There was no way out of this with her. You’d have to explain what had been going on. 

You leaned on the kitchen counter, looking away from her as you collected your thoughts. “Well, I wasn’t necessarily lying when I said I was fine. It’s merely some joint pain.” Cloud Retainer gave you a look, tilting her head a little as if to point to the mess in your kitchen. Not to even mention the rest of the house. “Well- It may or may not stop me from doing certain tasks sometimes, but it honestly is nothing to worry yourself over.” You sighed, not sure if you were trying to defend yourself or make her worry less. “One does not worry themselves, one merely came to see where you had been,” she huffed but after reading her expression it wasn’t hard to tell that she was only keeping up appearances with the comment. She had come here for exactly what you accused her of, worry. 

There was no getting through to her. You sighed, shaking your head gently before giving in. “Very well. It hurts enough to have stopped me from climbing the mountain to come and see you. And maybe it also affected the appearance of my living space.” You huffed, turning your eyes to her form, giving her a strong ‘you happy now?’ look. And in return she gave you a moment of deep silence before crossing her arms over her chest. “Words of comfort are not one’s strong suit, but allow one to prepare the tea for you. We shall sit and talk after.” She said, and without another word you understood the look she was giving you as ‘go sit down’. And that you did with no further complaints. 

You abandoned the kitchen, not wanting to sit in silence in the same space as her as the water slowly boiled. So you retreated to the nearest couch, huddling up on it to the best of your ability. You’d figured a while back that sitting with your legs criss crossed or straight were the only two pain free ways of sitting. So, choosing to cross your legs, you waited for your master to come back. And whatever entailed when she did.

In no time the sound of her heels alerted you, the sound getting closer and soon a warm mug was placed on the table in front of you. Xianyun herself sat on a stool you kept under the table, crossing her legs. 

Taking a hold of the mug, it warmed up your hands. Not even having noticed how cold your hands  had gotten, it felt nice. Bringing it up made the steam hit your face, but it wasn’t too hot, making you confirm that the tea probably wasn’t too hot not to drink. So you took a sip, holding back a wider smile at the taste. It reminded you of the tea you used to have with her back when you’d just started as her disciple. The teas she made had a specific taste that you couldn’t chase whenever you made it. At some point having started to believe that perhaps it was the effect that happened when you ate any food someone else had made. It just tasted better. And so did the tea she prepared, bringing back pleasant memories. 

But that train of thought was interrupted as she spoke up, placing her mug down gently. “One had time to ponder on your condition. One believes there may be a stronger medicine one could prepare for you in order to relieve the pain. One also feels the need to remind you, that one is always here for you. You need not but reach out.” She spoke, a sense of comfort in her words which somehow managed to embarrass you. 

You gulp down the rest of the tea, placing down the mug to reply to her properly. “You need not do that for me, if it’s any trouble-” You started, but she raised her hand slightly, shaking her head. “Nonsense. One wishes to help, it is no trouble. So fret not, all will be well.” And the way she managed to word everything out brought a sense of comfort that overpowered the embarrassment. Perhaps she was correct, all would be well if you had someone helping you. So you agreed with a nod. “Alright. Thank you, Cloud Retainer,” you added, a tired yet grateful expression on your face. 

A short, rather awkward silence fell upon the two of you. As if she wanted to say something but wasn’t so sure how. “Hm, as eloquent as one may be, there is not much more I can say. So allow one to tidy up here and you take a rest. One will wake you up in due time.” She requested but truly there was nothing you could say to protest against her. She was going to do it regardless. “You really do not have to,” you mumbled while laying down carefully, reaching down for a felt. You groaned lowly at the action, shoulder not giving out enough to unravel it. “One does not feel obligated to, fret not.” She replied, even as rhetorical as your silent comment had been. But almost as if automatically while speaking, she’d gotten up enough to unravel the felt for you before turning towards the kitchen. You blinked a couple of times at her action, not mentioning anything of it as you huddled to a more comfortable position. You’d thank her once you woke up again, was the last thought you had before the sleep you’d been losing recently caught up with you. 

#xianyun x reader #cloud retainer x reader #cloud retainer #xianyun #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #x reader #genshin x reader

[isaacswhy]

horror games w/ the group

the group x gn!reader (sfw) summary: headcanons (kinda) of playing a horror game with each of the group members. requested?: no, inspired by grunk playing fnaf

Isaacwhy

He first saw the horror game on his steam front store page and decided to buy it.

When you asked him if he was going to beat if first try, he just laughed. Not a yes or a no.

As soon as he got into the game, Isaac got eerily quiet. He was normally a pretty loud person when it came to playing games, but this was your first time seeing him play horror.

When he died, Isaac let out a high-pitched yelp like a little girl. The tension in him released and he finally let out a laugh and explained just how scared he had gotten.

You offered to help play it for him when he was getting tired, which he promptly said no. He was getting focused into the game.

He finished it at an average pace, with a fair share of deaths during the run. He gave you a big grin and hugged you really hard when he won, feeling accomplished.

He posted a tweet about beating the game and took a picture of you next to the win screen. All in all, successful day.

Softwilly

You showed Nick a tweet about how hard a brand new horror game was, and that was that. He had already bought the game and installed it before you were done talking.

When you asked him if he thought he could beat it, he looked at you like you were insane. "Of course I'm gonna beat it. It's gonna be easy," he said.

He died really quickly, almost at the first point in the game in which you can die. He got pretty mad.

You gave him some consolation kisses but he was determined to beat the rest of the game flawlessly. You bet him $5 he wouldn't.

It took less then fifteen minutes for you to get your $5. He raged pretty hard, but he swore that he'd beat the game in less than five deaths.

He finished the game with just under ten, but he was pretty confident with how he did. By the next day, he was playing the game again.

Every time he improved in an area, he'd show you really proud of what he did. You gave him loads of encouragement.

BigT / Tanner

He first saw the game on a livestream of one of his friends and motioned you over to his desk. He asked you if he should play it, and you told him sure.

You nudged him and asked if he'd beat it first try. He very jokingly responded that he would do it easily, boasting his skills.

It took him a little while to die, but then after that he let down his guard and died a bunch. It turned into an unserious laugh fest with the two of you.

Every time he would make a really bad mistake and die, the two of you would bust out laughing.

Tanner took videos of the experience and posted a few to his Instagram story, but it was way funnier in the moment.

By the time he had beaten the game, it was four in the morning. The two of you cheered and celebrated, to your roommates' dismay. Oh well.

The rest of the week, the game became an inside joke and you'd end up laughing your heads off whenever it was mentioned.

Yumi

You were actually on his computer scrolling through steam when a game popped up that you found interesting. Blake was on the bed.

You called him over and had him give his opinion, and he was super into the idea of watching you get scared at a game.

Thus, you ended up getting this game and installing it. He gave you words of encouragement as you booted it up, but you were scared out of your mind.

It didn't take long for you to die and give up on the game entirely. Blake liked horror, so he was happy to step in for you.

He died way less than you expected him to. He would point out things he did to outsmart the enemies but also kept focused on the game.

When he won, he celebrated and took a picture of the two of you together, putting it on his story with the caption "just beat this game ama"

When asked about it on his stream, he said, "Oh, that? Yeah, it was pretty tough. Had Y/N at my side though, so we're chillin'. Can't have a bad time there."

Larry Croft

You and Larry were hanging out on his bed together when he saw a game on his timeline and showed you his phone.

He got up to buy the game and install it, and you stood up and sat into the chair you had next to his to watch him play games.

He decided to stream the game with you at his side, and you were more than happy to be there.

He was pretty bad, all things considered. He died way too often and in places he knew how to beat. But you were his sidekick.

When he'd get too scared or during cutscenes, Larry would reach down and hold your hand under the desk, getting close to you.

You called Isaac into the room, who became Larry's hype man in the background of the stream.

Soon enough, the whole group house had piled into Larry's room to egg him on and backseat his stream.

When he finally did beat the game, the celebration was massive and Tanner ordered pizza for the whole house.

After the stream, in bed, Larry told you, "That was really fun, but scary as shit. Thanks for being my support system."

Grunk

Grunk had been sent the horror game to play by a friend, likely Isaac. He shrugged and told you to join him.

As soon as he got in the game, Grunk told you he was going to beat the game flawlessly, with no deaths. You grinned and nodded, not believing him at all.

He kept the streak up for an impressive amount of time, over halfway through the game. It went straight to his head, and he was bragging about how well he understood the game.

When he finally did die, Grunk's ego was shattered. He looked crushed and he slid down in his chair, defeated. It took over five minutes to get him to even try again.

When he did try again, he failed over and over. It took him hours to finish the game.

As soon as he won, it was like all the disappointment left him and he jumped around his room cheering about how good he was. You laughed and celebrated him.

The next day, he would make a lot of small comments like, "That game was really tough! I did great though, didn't I?"

It was kind of annoying, but you gave him lots of encouragement and would agree with him.

#the group x reader #the group #the group chat #isaacwhy x reader #isaacwhy #yumi x reader #yumi #softwilly x reader #softwilly #grunk x reader #grunk #bigt x reader #bigt #larry croft x reader #larry croft

[ddesguv]

It was a honest mistake, really, who knew you could be so clumsy, he was just trying to be a gentleman, holding his handkerchief at your nose to help with the bleeding after you smacked yourself in the face with the cupboard door, you simply opened it too fast.

You have long since left the kitchen with his handkerchief, while he remained, staring at the small speck of blood on his finger.

It was as if he was hypnotized by it. He couldn't take his eyes off of it, couldn't stop thinking about the taste of it on his tongue. He found himself wondering what else of you might taste like that, what other things might make him feel so...alive.

He didn't realize he had started to pace until his cane thumped against the floor, echoing through the room. His mind raced, his heart pounding in his chest. It was as if something inside of him had awoken, had been stirred to life by that single drop of blood.

He found himself wondering if he could convince you to let him taste more, to let him see what else of you might be as intoxicating as that tiny speck of life. The thought made his blood run hot, his body hum with desire.

His hands began to tremble as he clutched the cane, his breath coming in short gasps as he imagined what it would be like to taste you again, to feel your warmth against his skin. He could feel his heart racing, his pulse thrumming in his ears as he pictured your lips, your neck, your wrists.

This was unlike himself, to loose his composure over such small things. He could laugh at himself if it weren't for the depraved thoughts running around his mind.

He couldn't spend another moment in this kitchen, he wouldn't dare let someone else see him like this. With a snap of his fingers, he found himself into his dimly lit room.

The shadows seemed to wrap around him like a comforting cloak, and he allowed himself a moment to steady his breath. He couldn't deny the fact that he was...aroused. It had been so long since anything had affected him like this. He hadn't expected to react this way to a simple drop of blood.

He wasn't a blind man, stupid either, he noticed how you seemed to have some sort of fondness for him, actually engaging in mundane pleasant conversation with him, laughing at his jokes and offering your own, not being bothered by his touch or him invading your personal space, unlike the others. He'd notice how your eyes followed him around the room, how you smiled whenever he was in your presence. He just didn't know how to use that for his advantage.

He found himself pacing again, his cane thumping against the floor in a familiar rhythm. Maybe he should just ask you outright, see if you'd be interested in exploring something more with him. No, that seemed...too forward, too desperate. He needed to be more subtle, more manipulative. He needed to find a way to make you want to give yourself to him, willingly.

He stopped by his favorite chair, the one with the comfortable cushion and the armrest that fitted just right. He sank into it, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, trying to clear his thoughts. But the more he tried to push the thoughts of you away, the more they seemed to crowd his mind, filling his senses until he could hardly breathe.

He needed to do something, anything, to take his mind off of you. He reached for a book on his nightstand, flipping through the pages absently, trying to focus on the words, but they might as well have been written in a foreign language. His mind kept drifting back to the taste of your blood, the feel of your skin beneath his lips. With a frustrated groan, he tossed the book across the room, watching it land with a satisfying thud against the wall. He felt like he was going absolutely mad.

He rose from his chair, pacing again, his cane clicking against the floor in a familiar rhythm. He needed to get out of this room, to clear his head, to find a way to get you alone, to see if what he thought was true. Maybe he could invite you for a walk in the garden, or perhaps a quiet meal in his study. Anything to be near you, to feel your presence again.

You bewitched him, there was no other possible explanation. You and that sweet ambrosia running trough your veins, that sinful body, that angelic voice!

As weeks passed by, he became more agitated, it was obvious to anyone who had eyes that he wasn't acting quite like himself.

Wherever you were, he was there. You were taking a stroll trough the city? He was right there, claiming to have some errands to run.

In the library? He was looking for a book to entertain himself.

In the kitchen? He was supervising you to make sure you didn't burn the hotel down.

You could say he was...obsessed.

He found himself unable to focus on anything else but you. His thoughts were consumed by the image of your face, your smile, your laugh. He would find himself lost in daydreams about what it would be like to kiss those lips, to feel your skin pressed against his own. It was both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

But now, only anger ran trough his body, positively boiling with rage as he watched you from the shadows.

You were sitting at the bar, a drink in your hand, chatting, no, flirting! With that depraved spider whore of all things!

You were such a foolish little creature.

He couldn't help but observe your conversation with that pest.

" Ya' know toots, that dress looks good on you, would look even better on the floor in my room." He watched as you laughed at the demons suggestive comment.

He felt his fists clench at his side, his jaw tighten as he fought the urge to lunge across the room and strangle the demon with his bare hands. But he couldn't. Not yet. He had to play his cards right. He had to wait for the perfect moment.

" Animal abuse ain't cool, but I got insurance, so how about you destroy this pussy?" It infuriated him even more when you responded back with the same suggestive mannerisms.

" Fucking hell toots, that was horrible" The pest laughed, and you joined in.

" I know, I know!"

" For real now, how's it going with mister tall dark and handsome? Any luck?"

" Alastor?" His breath stopped for a second at hearing your sweet voice saying his name.

" No shit Sherlock!"

" I wish, trust me if he'd be interested I'd jump on it." Now, this, really got his attention.

" You are one blind bitch if I eva' seen one, toots."

"Go fuck yourself Angel"

" Fuck me ya' self you coward!"

" Nah thanks, I want my guts rearranged by Alastor."

His eyes narrowed, his fingers curled into fists at his side as he listened to your words. You. Were. Tempting. Him. With. A. Line. You had no idea how close you were to crossing.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, his boiling blood. He needed to be patient. Bide his time. Wait for the right moment to strike.

" You've got it baaad toots."

" Honestly, if he asked me to get down on my knees and bark, I would."

Patience is a virtue, and he is no saint.

With a snap of his fingers he was right beside you, hand on your shoulder. And just as soon, he took you to his room, shadows wrapping away from the two of you.

There you lay, beneath him, your wrists above your head, pinned down by one of his hand.

" Foolish little doe, do you find it amusing tormenting me? Are you really that stupid? Do you truly have no idea of what you do to me?!"

His words were like a slap to your face, a harsh reality check. You feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment and shame as you look up at him, your eyes wide with a mix of fear and confusion. His face is contorted with anger, his jaw tight, his eyes blazing with fire. You've never seen him like this before, and it's both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

You want to apologize, to explain that you didn't mean anything by it, that you were just playing along, but the words stick in your throat. Instead, you remain silent, your gaze fixed on his. His hand moves from your shoulder to your cheek, gently cupping it as he tilts your head up further. "Do you know what you do to me, when you say those things?" he asks, his voice low and intense. "You make me want to claim you, to own you, to make you mine."

His other hand moves down between your legs, his fingers pressing against your wetness. You gasp, arching your back involuntarily, as pleasure courses through you. He growls in response, his touch growing firmer, more demanding. "Do you want this?" he asks, his voice rough with desire. "Do you want me to claim you, to take what's mine?"

The question echoes through your mind, the desire in his voice making your heart race. You nod slowly, not trusting your voice to speak. He smiles, a predatory grin that makes your blood boil. " Use your words little doe, I won't do anything else until I hear you say it."

You close your eyes, taking a shaky breath before opening them again. "I want you to claim me, to make me yours," you whisper, feeling the words escape your lips like a sigh. His fingers press deeper, finding a rhythm that matches the ache between your legs. He growls in approval, the sound vibrating against your skin. "I need you to make me yours," you add, arching your back further as his touch sends waves of pleasure coursing through you.

His other hand leaves your cheek, trailing down your body, coming to rest on your hip. His thumb brushes against your skin, tracing circles, as if he's trying to memorize every inch of you. "Say it again," he demands, his voice thick with desire. "Tell me you're mine."

You moan, the sound escaping you as his fingers find a particularly sensitive spot deep inside you. "I'm yours, Alastor," you gasp, feeling the words tumble out of your mouth. "Please... take me."

His answering growl vibrates against your skin, his fingers snap and your clothes disappear, in a flash, his hands spread your legs and he's laying down on the bed, head between your legs, his tongue pressing against your folds. It's a shockingly intimate sensation, having him so close, and you arch your back further, letting out a whimper as his tongue begins to explore. He's rough and demanding, lapping at your folds, sucking on your clit, driving you wild with need. Your hips buck up off the bed, seeking more of his touch, more of his possession.

"That's it, little doe," he murmurs against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers through you. "Give yourself to me." And you do, giving in to the overwhelming sensations that consume you. Your hands find purchase in his hair, tugging gently as he pushes you closer to the edge, your body tensing and releasing in rhythm with his tongue. You feel your orgasm building, and with one final stroke of his tongue, it crashes over you in a wave of pleasure so intense that it steals your breath away.

He's completely enamored with the taste of you, the guttural moan he lets out against your skin makes you shudder.

It's been so long since he's felt this overwhelming need to possess someone, to make them his own, and he's not about to let go now. His fingers trail up your body, finding your breast, kneading and pinching gently, he offers small kisses as he makes his way up your body, until he reaches your neck. He nibbles, sucks, licks and kisses at it for a moment as he desperately unbuttons his pants.

He's already hard, aching for you, and as he frees his cock, he positions himself between your legs, nudging at your entrance. He groans, biting at your neck, just enough for a little bit of blood to come out, as he pushes inside you, filling you up in one smooth stroke. You cry out, arching your back in pleasure as he takes you, claiming you as his. He begins to move, slowly at first, building up a rhythm that matches the need that consumes both of you.

His hand comes up, cupping your breast, his thumb rubbing over your nipple, and you feel the answering tug of desire deep within you. You writhe beneath him, helpless to the sensations that overwhelm you. He's possessive and demanding, taking what he wants and giving you what you need. He growls in approval as you tighten around him, your body moving in perfect synchrony with his.

" That's it, good little doe, taking whatever I give you. "

His thrusts become harder, faster, and you're lost in the rhythm, the heat, the connection. He's demanding and unyielding, but there's an undeniable tenderness in the way he touches you, the way he looks at you. It's a heady mix that sends you spiraling out of control, and you meet him stroke for stroke, arching your back off the bed, your nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure builds.

The sounds of your bodies colliding fill the room, a symphony of desire and need. He growls and moans, his hips thrusting in a frenzy, his cock pumping inside you, and with each thrust, you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. You can feel your orgasm building, growing stronger with each passing second, and when it finally crashes over you, it's a blinding, all-consuming wave of pleasure that leaves you breathless.

He follows you over the edge, his movements becoming more urgent, more intense. He's lost in the sensation of being inside you, feeling you tighten around him, feeling the way you writhe and moan beneath his touch. His thrusts are rough and demanding, his hips slam against yours as he comes, filling you up with his essence. The weight of him atop you is almost too much, but it feels so right, so necessary.

In the hotel's lobby, Angel and Husk share a knowing look as they hear the radio static and watch the flickering lights around the hotel, the chandelier sways slowly from side to side.

"Ya' owe me 100 cash, pussy cat."

" God fucking dammit!"

#alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #x reader #fanfiction #alastor #mature theme #alastor smut #sexy content

[basilpaste]

On Command!

(This fic contains depictions of panic attacks and also talks of death! please be safe.)

You can loop without dying. You can loop without touching a tear or dying. Why?

Better question: how?

You know you loop when you talk to the Head Housemaiden. You know you looped when Loop said something similar to her. Is it those words that trigger it?

Something is breaking. Something's failing, rotting. You sit in front of the statue of the Change God and think the words with force. Panic swells in your chest. You hate thinking about it! You thought you were free the first time you beat the King! That your friends would get to go and you'd be done with this whole thing. And then the Head Housemaiden started talking like that and it just!

You don't feel like looping. You just feel bad.

So if not that… what? What caused you to loop those times? Was it… emotions? You weren't stressed the first time you talked to the Head Housemaiden, though! But you still looped back anyway! You bite your lip — hard. Okay. Maybe you'll have time to think about this later. Because Sif just passed the statue and you have a schedule!

… You could ask Loop about it. You aren't sure Loop would appreciate that much. So. You won't! You'll figure it out on your own! It can't be that hard, can it?

-

You are in the House. In the secret library, thumbing uselessly through the same books you've already skimmed. There's nothing important here, not that you know of at least, but you still look vaguely at the pages. One of the books, shoved away and out of place, is on self help. A page catches your eye! Breathing exercises! Like Sif's! From all the time you've spent with him, now, you've found yourself doing them subconsciously. To keep yourself calm!

Hm.

You don't panic in front of your friends much, do you? Not genuinely, at least. You play up nervous embarrassment, lean into it when m'dame Odile teases you, but you don't ever actually panic. Not visibly, not in a way they can see.

What are you thinking? You'd already ruled out the strange loops being based on emotion because of the first time you talked to m'dame Head Housemaiden! Would it hurt to try, though? This loop is already a bust, after all. It'd be nice to not have to die.

… The tears have started to give you more nightmares than dreams.

It's not like it's hard to panic! In this situation you have a lot to panic about! You're pretty constantly stressed! You place the book back on the shelf and move on from the library, holding that thought in your mind. Panic… panic. You're trapped in a time loop. The end doesn't end it, the beginning never changes. You are the only one who remembers other than Loop. You have to watch your friends do the same things over and over and over again.

You keep moving on autopilot. You know this floor well enough to not make any dumb mistakes. Your head feels fuzzy, your chest feels tight! You're doing a good job at making yourself panic! If you never get out of this loop Mira will never realize how much she's grown. If you never get out of this loop Bonbon won't ever see their sister again. If you don't make it out m'dame will never really respect you and you'll never properly tell Sif how much they mean to you — not really. So you need to get out. But you're trapped. You can't escape.

There is static in your head, the back of your throat tastes sweet like sugar. You're trapped. Forever and ever in this world without change. There's no escape.

"… Isabeau?"

Mira. She's looking at you! Maybe you weren't being as subtle as you thought, huh?

You breathe deep. In and out. Staying calm under pressure is easy for you. You want to choke and scream and sob but you won't. You can't! You're the fighter! You're big and strong and reliable! What would happen if you weren't? If no one could trust you to be their rock!

"Sorry, Mira!" You rub the back of your neck, "I got lost in thought for a second there."

The static is gone. You're fine.

-

You stand in the room with the poem. You're not quite sure what made you come here! It's a dead end! Poetry isn't even something you're that big on! You like it, sure, especially love poems (which a Housemaiden in Jouvente once said were the lowest form of poetry. You exist to spite xem every day), but its not like you go out of your way to read any poems!

You're just… here.

That's all a lie.

You know why you came here. You have a theory. Not a strong theory, not a good one, but one you can test. The last time you tried to loop without a tear… you couldn't. You got close. You know for sure you got close but… you're missing something. You're at a dead end but no one else has realized it yet. If you coward out — you can use that as an excuse! Hah!

Panic. Okay. You're terrified of this! Of doing this! Because if it doesn't work the way you want it to you'll make everyone worry! And the idea of making people worry about you makes you want to curl up into a ball and scream! Because you're Isa! Emotional Isa, but never really scared! Only ever spooked!

You're stupid. It's what you convince others is true about yourself. You think… Mira knows it's not true. That's so scary it makes you kind of sick to think about, actually! You don't want anyone to see through you, to learn what a coward you are. Hiding everything about yourself.

Oh. Um. You're doing the breathing thing. Don't do that, Isabeau! It slows your heartrate down! Don't keep your cool! Don't don't don't! You have to do this — you at least have to try! You hold your breath. You know that doing that slows your heart but if you do it long enough when you breathe out it'll start racing! And you'll breathe quicker because you need to catch your breath.

People are talking but you aren't listening. You can't hear them, you're too focused on not breathing. On not being calm. Because oh Change are you not calm! You're so not calm!!

You can't hold your breath anymore.

Just like you knew it would, breathing out leaves you gasping for air. You can feel your pulse drumming in your ears and your breath coming out in short little bursts. It's not enough! It's not quick enough! They'll notice. You don't want them to notice you. You dig your nails into your palms, feeling them even through your gloves.

You've died. You've died a lot. It's really really scary to die and you don't think you've actually thought about it enough! The King killed you brutally twice before you figured out what you were supposed to do! You've gotten caught off guard by the strong sadnesses! Once you even managed to get crushed by the stupid crabbing rock!

There is a sickly sweet taste in your mouth and when you try to swallow you almost gag.

You're not strong! You're not strong, you're panicking like a little kid! Tears prick in the corners of your eyes and they sting.

If anyone notices they'll know that you're not what any of them expected. You're an overgrown child who can't protect anyone!

You can't protect anyone.

How could they ever trust you to protect them, to be strong enough to keep them safe, when you're acting like this!

They won't trust you.

You won't be able to protect them.

You can't breathe you can't breathe you can't—

There is a thread tugging at your chest.

The thread snaps.

#in stars and time #in stars and time spoilers #isat spoilers #isat fanfic #in stars and time fanfic #isabeau isat #hes the only character who has a major role in this one so. #of stitches in sequence #basil writes #this one is 1.3k words! that makes it by far the longest of the tumblr fics for this au! cheers! #OH i didnt say this but this is isas equivalent of the dagger. loop is. nnnnnot happy about it.

[scribblement]

Warnings: Kidnapping, Sexual Assault, Drugging, Minor Violence

Summary: Dottore leaves Sumeru, his work there finished, however he can't resist taking his new little assistant with him.

A continuation of my Dottore Akasha Mind Control Fic

Sorry for how long this part 2 took. I've still got 2 more parts in mind to write, but I honestly have no idea when I might actually write them.

I tried to make this as gender neutral as possible, but please let me know if I’ve made any mistakes.

Word Count: 4599

“Don’t worry, you’ll love Snezhnaya, it’s a bit cold, but you’ll get used to it,” He leaned down towards you, gripping your chin tighter as you flinched, trying to pull away. “I’ve told the Doctor plenty about you and he’s very excited to meet you.”

You paused for a moment, taking in what you had just been told. It didn't make any sense, isn't Il Dottore supposed to be 'the Doctor'? You were sure that was what he had introduced himself as before, though your memory was fuzzy, you weren't even sure how much time had passed since you had the misfortune of meeting him.

He cocked his head to the side, watching your reaction, seemingly amused with your confusion, yet not offering any clarification.

"What do you mean 'meet the Doctor'? Isn't that you?"

His smile only grew wider as he shook his head, looking as though he was disappointed in your question, yet still finding it amusing that you would ask.

"Hmm, an interesting question. I am indeed 'the Doctor', however 'the Doctor' is also currently wrapping things up in Sumeru."

Your confusion only grew with his strange answer, and seeing his amusement at your confusion, your annoyance also grew.

"That doesn't make sense, there's more than one Il Dottore?" You looked to 'the Doctor' for more clarification, but he only gave a non-committal hum, followed by a gesture for you to continue, so you did, trying to work it out. "But if there was more than one of you people would notice. Multiple people all calling themselves 'the Doctor' would raise questions. So you'd have to look at least somewhat alike."

His smile grew slightly, and he waved you on to continue.

"Are you twins?"

At that he let out a laugh. "No, no, nothing like that."

He stepped closer to you, placing a hand on your back. You tried to move away from him, but he simply stepped closer, caging you in and pulling you closer to him so he could lean down with his mouth right by your ear.

"You're close, but I'm afraid we'll have to take this conversation somewhere more... private." With that said he suddenly stepped away from you, using his hand on your back to spin you around in one fluid motion, then guiding you back to the room that you had woken up in previously.

It happened so quickly you weren't even able to properly try to escape his grasp, before you knew it the two of you were in a room, door closed behind you, with Dottore gesturing for you to take a seat at the desk.

Hesitantly you took a seat, keeping an eye on him, unsure of what was going on.

He took a spot near the bookshelf, casually browsing through the covers before one caught his eye and he pulled it from the shelf.

"We are not twins." He looked up from his book briefly, studying your face, smirking when he saw a look of confusion cross you. "You are going somewhat in the right direction. There are many of us, and we do look quite similar, and some of us even look exactly the same. But we are not twins, or siblings of any kind."

He quietly began to read and for a while the only sound was the soft flipping of pages as he read and the sounds of waves hitting the ship, dampened by the walls. You just sat there, confused, not sure what to make of what he had said.

"Continue working through your hypothesis, work through it out loud, it can assist your brain with making connections and organizing your thoughts."

With that he gave you another small wave for you to continue your previous line of thought.

"So there's more of you, and you all look the same, but you aren't siblings. I guess you could be robots, or clones," He looked ready to say something, but you quickly continued on. "But no one's been able to do things like that. Cloning people is a far off idea, and even the best scientists haven't been able to make robots that lifelike or small. I suppose you -"

Suddenly you were cut off by the sharp sounds of a book being shut. You looked over to Dottore to see him frowning at you. He set the book back on the shelf before walking towards you, placing a hand on the desk, before leaning into you, caging you in when his other hand settled on the desktop on your other side.

"Do you think me unintelligent?" His voice was low, nearly threatening, it was the most unsettling you'd ever heard his voice, for a moment you felt very afraid. "Do you think me to be an average scholar, bumbling my way through useless research, unable to move forward past the failings of others?"

The 'no' that escaped you was small, and you were surprised that you had found your voice at all, no matter how small and afraid you sounded.

"Good, you are a smart one aren't you, just too blinded by what you've been told is possible to consider the impossible." He brought a hand up, to toy with a piece of your hair, turning it in his fingers, examining it with a neutral expression. "I am neither a clone, nor a robot, but what I am is quite similar. What I am is a segment of the true Dottore, a part of him created to provide a diverse range of perspectives from different times in his life. I am the Omega segment, and you may refer to me as such, so long as no one else is around."

His answer left you with more questions, but you weren't sure if this was the best time to ask them, so you simply accepted what he told you.

With a sigh he let your hair drop from his grasp as he stood back up, walking back over to the book shelf, studying the selection once more. You continued sitting at the desk quietly mulling things over in your mind while he once again began reading. The silence was a welcome escape, you weren't sure if you wanted to continue speaking with Dottore, or Omega, or whoever he was. Speaking with him was exhausting, it seemed like he was judging and evaluating you every time you spoke, like there was some sort of test going on and only he knew the correct answers. Not to mention, certain things seemed to set him off and you didn't want to risk his wrath, not here on a boat where you were completely at his mercy.

"You will meet Prime Dottore soon," You jumped at his voice, not having expected him to break the silence. "He is on his way, his boat will depart Sumeru soon and we will wait for him at the next port city where we will disembark and board the ship that is waiting for us."

You simply hum in response, not quite sure what to say in response. Escaping at the port seems to be your best bet for freedom, who knows what will happen when you board the next boat.

"No more questions? With such an inquisitive mind I expected you to have more questions for me, but you've been surprisingly silent."

You thought long and hard before finally voicing the question that had been on your mind ever since you woke up on this boat.

"Can I go home?"

His eyes widened slightly, and he tilted his head ever so slightly to the side as he studied you. He seemed genuinely confused at your question. "Home? My dear, why would you ever want to go back to that small existence?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but he swiftly cut you off before you could speak.

"We are going to Snezhnaya, and you are going to continue being my assistant, which I can assure you is quite the honor. You will have power, prestige, and you'll have the freedom to question all those silly little things you were taught in Sumeru." He waited a moment, seemingly expecting you to agree with him and drop the subject, when you didn't immediately respond he frowned slightly, studying your face to determine what you were thinking.

"If I can't leave then it doesn't seem like I have that much freedom."

He was on you quicker than you could blink, grasping your chin in his bruising grip, forcing you to look at where his eyes must be underneath his mask. You were so close to him that the beak-like protrusion on his mask was brushing against your nose. You held your breath, fear settling in once more, this version of Dottore seemed to be rather volatile, and you couldn't help but wonder if the real Dottore was just as volatile.

"You're alive aren't you? I'd say that is quite the gift, and allows for a great deal of freedom. Plus the Akasha is no longer working, so you once again have your mind. You have the freedom of your thoughts and autonomy once more, is that not enough for you? Such a greedy little thing." He sneered at you, gripping your face tighter, as he studied your expression.

When you didn't immediately respond to him he loosened his grip, showing you away from him in disgust. "We'll fix that attitude of yours eventually, you'll come to appreciate the freedoms you are given."

Fear took hold of you once more, and you were suddenly gripped with the urge to flee, you felt as though you were a rabbit cowering before a wolf. Eyes darting around you noticed that there was no lock on the door to the room you were in, which meant, if you were fast enough you could escape.

Subtly shifting your body until you were facing the door more, you quickly pushed off from the bed and lunged for the door, getting it open and racing down the hall on unsteady legs as the boat shifted beneath you.

You were shocked when instead of footsteps thundering after you you merely heard laughter, bold, full bodied laughter, he was enjoying this.

"Where do you plan on going? Or have you forgotten you are on a ship, not too many places to escape to."

His voice echoed to you through the hallways, and suddenly you were struck with the truth of his words, you were on a ship, you had forgotten that piece of information in your fear. Where could you go? From your brief time on your deck you recalled that there wasn't any land around you, so you couldn't jump overboard and swim to safety. So what could you do?

Making another split second decision you spotted a door that was slightly ajar and raced for it, quickly shutting yourself inside, moving a few boxes to hopefully provide some degree of safety, and prevent the door from being opened.

You heard the footsteps of someone casually meandering down the hallway softly echoing off the ship. With every step they slowly grew louder and louder, and you knew they were gradually drawing closer, you could only hope that this door would look unassuming and he would pass by it giving you more precious time to figure out a plan.

You saw a shadow approach your door, and then, mercifully pass right by. You let out a breath you didn't know you had been holding in and slouched back against the wall in relief.

Very short-lived relief, as a moment later the door was unceremoniously shoved open, flinging the boxes against the far wall.

His mood was difficult to discern with the mask covering most of his face, but his posture as well as the slight upturn to his mouth seemed to say that he was enjoying himself, and indeed when he spoke his voice was laced with mirth.

"Hmm, seems like you didn't pick the best hiding spot," Kneeling down to match your height he reached out to grasp your shin once more, "Now are you going to stop being so childish and come back to our room, or am I going to have to lock you in here for the remainder of our 5 day voyage?"

You took a moment to mull over your options, being locked in a room for 5 days didn't sound fun, but at least you'd be away from this volatile man. On the other hand, while you would be sacrificing a bit of freedom if you went back to 'your' room, you would have more freedom than staying put.

Taking note of your hesitation he spoke again. "I should inform you that being locked in here means you don't leave for any reason, and no one is permitted to open this door for any reason until we make landfall, that means no food, no water, nothing."

With that new piece of information in mind you made your decision.

"I'll go with you"

His smile grew as he released your chin and stepped back, gesturing for you to follow him down the hallway.

"I knew you would be reasonable," He held a hand out to you, waiting for you to take it. "Now, let's go back to our room shall we?"

He waited a moment, gauging your reaction, frowning slightly at your hesitation, though his frown quickly shifted to a smirk once you reached out to take his hand. He silently led you back down through the halls until you reached the room that you had woke up in. He led you back to the bed, and sat you down, taking a seat himself at the desk, turning to face you.

"Now, I'm sure you have questions, so," He gave a small wave towards you, "Go ahead and ask anything you like."

You thought for a moment, unsure of how many questions you would be allowed to ask, or if he would really answer them. After a moment's hesitation you decided on the most important questions that you had to ask, you needed to know what had happened after your meeting at the Akademiya.

"After I met you at the Akademiya, everything just goes blank. That was the Akasha right?"

You looked up at him, trying to gauge his reaction, which was made difficult by the mask covering most of his face. But you could see the small smile playing at his lips, he was clearly amused by your question.

"An astute observation, it was indeed the Akasha's doing, I felt it would be easier if you were not aware of what was occurring, less chance of you attempting to rebel."

"So then, what happened during that time?"

"Ah, now that is the big question isn't it?" He smiled as he cocked his head to the side, studding your responses to him.

"So?" You looked at him, waiting for his answer.

"So..." he let the word trail off, waiting for you to elaborate and ask again.

"So," You huffed in annoyance, looking away from his smirking face. "What happened during that time that I don't remember."

He hummed in response, as though he was thinking over the answer, only speaking when you eventually brought your gaze back up to him, watching him once more.

"Now that is quite a valuable piece of information, and as a resident of Sumeru I'm sure you understand that all knowledge comes at a price." His smile grew as your face fell at his answer. "What will you give me in exchange for that information?"

You were taken aback at his response, he had told you to ask him any questions you had, and now he was refusing to answer them? That's just absurd.

"You said to ask you anything I wanted." You frowned, shifting on the bed to face away from him once more.

"Indeed I did, and you may ask any question you like, however whether I deign to answer them is a completely separate matter."

He stood from his desk, crossing the room in a few strides, opening a chest on the far side of the room. You remained silent as he pushed things around, looking for a specific item, eventually pulling out a box.

Walking back towards you he placed the box in your lap.

"Open it."

You weren't sure what you were expecting in the box when you opened it, but a knowledge capsule certainly wasn't high on your list of possible items.

"The offer is always open, once you decide what you are willing to trade me for that knowledge come and find me." He picked the capsule up from the box, studying how the light passed through it, turning it over in his hands. "This capsule contains all your memories from that time, while we may no longer have the Akasha system I'm sure I can make it work."

You remained silent, not sure how to respond to what he had just said, the answers you wanted were so close, but just out of reach. Who knows what you'll have to offer to get those memories back, and do you really want them? Who knows what happened, what you may have done.

You were startled out of your thoughts by a sudden knock at the door, jumping slightly from your spot on the bed. Omega simply sighed, moving from his spot to wrench open the door. 

“What?”

Looking around Omega you spotted a fatuus clutching a letter in his hand, fear at having possibly interrupted the Doctor etched on his face.

“Lord Harbinger sir, a letter has just arrived for you, it is from the Regrator.”

Omega didn’t answer, merely snatching the letter from his grasp and dismissing the man with a wave before he closed the door, making his way back to his desk.

Pulling his chair out and sitting down he began rifling through papers, pulling out anything that caught his eye. Reaching into one drawer he pulled out a letter opener, quickly using it to open the letter he carelessly tossed it to the side. 

You sat in silence as he scanned the letter, muttering to himself as he did. You didn’t listen too closely, but you could have sworn it almost sounded like he was having a conversation with himself.

You remained quiet, awkwardly sitting on the bed, unsure what to do with yourself. Escape wasn’t currently an option, as you had recently learned. Perhaps if you kept your head down you could make a break for it when you reached the next port, after all you’d have to leave the boat to board another, perhaps that could be your chance. 

“I will be right back, behave while I’m gone.”

Omega’s voice broke through your thoughts, startling you and causing you to slightly jump.

He got up and left, closing the door behind him as he left to take care of whatever work he needed to. You quickly sprung into action as soon as his footsteps began to fade, snatching up the letter opener, it may not be much but you'd rather have a weapon, no matter how small in your possession. 

You then began looking around for anything that might be of use to you. Most of the papers on his desk were complicated scientific research notes and papers on all manner of seemingly esoteric research that you weren’t able to make heads or tails of. You left them where they were, choosing instead to carefully open and search all the drawers and cupboards, unfortunately not finding anything of use. 

You then took a few moments to study your sparse surroundings, the room was large, but sparsely furnished, a bed took up a bit of the space, the largest piece of furniture in the room was the desk that was beside the bed and wrapped around the room. There was nothing that you could use, and nowhere to hide. 

You started hearing footsteps returning, so you quickly hid the letter opener in your pocket, careful to wrap it in a spare piece of fabric you had found so you didn’t cut yourself. You then returned to your spot on the bed where you had been before he left, trying your best to look like you hadn’t just been searching through all of his things.

When he returned he simply went back to his desk, pulling out more papers as well as an inkwell. Eventually the sounds of papers shuffling around and the scratching of pen on paper lulled you into a fitful rest, your body succumbing to the exhaustion of the day.

The rest of the voyage passed fairly uneventfully, though it was terribly boring. You were left without anything to do but sit on the bed and watch as Omega worked, you were forbidden from going anywhere on the ship unless Omega was with you, and he did not like being disturbed for anything, not even food or rest.

The first two days were oppressively quiet, by the third day you worked up your courage to make small talk with him. He didn’t speak much in response to anything you said or any questions you asked, too focused on his work to pay you much mind. But he did on occasion speak to you, which, as much as you hated to admit it, made the days a bit better. You never realised how much you craved interaction with people, no matter who they were until it was completely taken away from you.

The final day of the voyage started the same way as usual, and progressed in much the same way as well. It wasn’t until late at night that Omega broke his usual schedule, briefly leaving the room, only to return a short while later with a small plate of food and a pot of tea.

It was the first time he had ever eaten that you had seen. Eventually he noticed your gaze on him, and turned to you with a smirk.

“What is it? Do you want a treat?” He gestured to the plate he had brought in and you noticed that it didn’t contain the food you had expected, instead it had small cakes on it, who knew that he had a sweet tooth.

You ignored his jibe, knowing that if you addressed it he would get no end of enjoyment from your anger, instead choosing to focus on the cakes.

“What are they?” You asked as you moved closer, slowly perching yourself on the edge of the bed so you could get a better look. They were small rectangular shaped cakes, with what looked like layers of cream and chocolate, plus a layer of chocolate on top.

“A traditional Fontaine desert, I find them to be quite enjoyable.” He took his fork, and reached over to the plate, taking a small chink out of one of the cakes before taking a bite. 

You had to admit, it looked delicious and you weren’t sure how long it had been since you last had something sweet. When you worked at your bakery you would have sweets every now and again, when you were surrounded by them all day it was easy to take one and have a small snack. 

And you had never had any cakes or pastries from Fontaine, when would you ever get a chance again?

“Can I?”

He smiled when you spoke, taking his fork once again, and gathering up some of the cake for you, before holding out the fork for you to take a bite from.

You hesitantly leaned over, unsure of his intentions, but when he didn’t make any moves you took a bite from the fork, sitting back down as you did. You savored the bite, it was different from cakes that you had previously made and tried. It was soft and creamy, you could taste almond, and chocolate, but also a distinct coffee taste, there was also a bitter flavour that you couldn’t quite place, but you assumed that it was a spice or ingredient from Fontaine that you haven’t tried before.

“Well?”

He studied your expressions as you ate, smile widening when he saw your eyes drift to the second piece on his plate. 

“It’s good,” You hesitantly leaned back towards him. “Can I have more?”

He sat back in his chair, studying you for a moment before smiling again. 

“I suppose you can, after all you have been rather well behaved, aside from the incident, on your first day awake.” He pulled out another fork and placed the plate on the empty section of desk beside you, allowing you to finish the cake that had a few bites out of it while he ate the other.

The two of you ate in silence, savoring the delicious cakes, and all too soon they were gone. Omega took the forks and plate, leaving the room to return them to the kitchen. 

You began feeling tired, and let the gentle swaying motion of the ship rock you to sleep.

Your mind was fuzzy, tired with sleep as an unknown sensation slowly pulled you from your dreams. You began shifting around, feeling a pressure on your hips, almost pinning you down.

"Shhh, shh, shhh," A soft voice broke through the sleepy haze of your mind, you knew that voice, but couldn't quite place it. "Relax, bunny, just relax."

You made a soft noise of discomfort as you continued trying to move, something other than sleep was stopping you from being able to move as much as you wanted to.

You felt a hand trailing up your side, ghosting over your skin as it traced unknown patterns across your skin. Then you felt another strange sensation, a soft press against your neck, and then again, moving higher and higher.

You tried to squirm away again, when that was unsuccessful you focused on trying to focus your vision. Everything was so blurry you couldn't make out anything distinct. When you turned your head slightly you saw blue hair.

When you moved again, you were suddenly roughly pinned down, and a face came into view. Through your altered vision you couldn't make out much, just blue hair and red eyes.

"Stay still, stop fighting the sedative, just go back to sleep."

You thrashed, trying to get away from the unwanted touches, or at least you tried to. Whatever sedative he had dosed you with was having quite the effect, you were barely able to move.

He tutted as you continued trying to squirm away from him.

"You know, you were so much more compliant when you had the Akasha."

You stilled at that, a thousand thoughts running through your mind as your blood turned to ice. What had he done to you when you had been under the control of the Akasha?

He hummed when you stilled, pleased with your seeming compliance.

"That's it, just like that." His hands resumed their exploration of your body, leaving a burning trail of shame in you everywhere he touched. "I don't know how much time we have left together, so just lay still and let me commit your body to memory."

Panic welled up in you once more and you desperately tried to move again, to speak, to do anything to stop him. All your efforts rewarded you with was a sigh from Omega as he lifted himself off of you before he reached into the bedside table, searching for something. You couldn't see what he pulled out, but suddenly you felt a sharp pinch in your arm before your vision slowly faded back to black.

#yandere genshin #genshin x reader #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #yandere dottore #🔮.dottore #🔮.genshin #🔪.darkcontent #cw:yandere #cw:sexual assault #cw:kidnapping #.mine

[slytherin-paramour]

Whew! Boy, this was meant to be a lot shorter than it is! This is a sad tale revolving around the Richard Jackdaw storyline, if it diverges from the actual story at all I don't care! 🤣🙏

(Thank you to @cuffmeinblack for the imagery of #aliveRichard lol)

💠▪️💠▪️💠

So I've started outlining a story in which you are Richard's best friend.

You grew up together, and now you are secretly in love with him.

You do everything with him, go exploring with him, keep his secrets, lie for him etc.

He constantly batters your ear with talk of Apollonia and how much he wants to court her and even though it's like a dagger to the heart you listen on with a smile and encouragement but secretly cry with despair when you are alone.

Apollonia knows how you feel and uses every opportunity to make you feel worse, flirting with Richard and stringing him along.

Eventually, Richard gets tired of chasing Apollonias unrequited love and focuses on adventuring with you again, and your heart starts to feel better.

You help him to store away random items and artifacts that he discovers, in a little enchanted cavern down by the lake. (He informs you that he'd stolen a few of these items in an attempt to impress Apollonia, which you frown upon and roll your eyes.

You spend a lot of time there in the lake cavern with him, chatting about anything and everything, playing wizards chess and trying to decipher old tomes.

One night, Slytherin are celebrating a quidditch victory over Gryffindor in The Three Broomsticks. Student's from all house's are gathered there, having a good time and drinking.

Richard and you are there, and this is the night when he finally gets acquainted with a pretty Hufflepuff named Anne Thisbe. Anne becomes besotted with him, and he is ecstatic at the attention. You'd seen her about the castle but not spoken to her-a year below you, you think. Your heart lurches as he chats animatedly with this girl. And so begins a tragic tale.

Richard starts to spend a lot of time with Anne, to your dismay. Because of this, you instinctively draw into yourself and away from him, throwing yourself into your studies.

You are surprised one day when he seeks you out-alone. He's noticed your lack of presence and questions you about it, to which you conjure up a lie of some sort to placate him. He sees the tired look on your face, dark rings under your eyes and is worried for you. You wave him off and swallow thickly, asking him about Anne. It's then that he mentions something about some ripped out book pages that he'd stolen from Peeves the Poltergeist, that included some sort of a map that he intended to follow in the next few weeks.

He shows you the pages, covered with cryptic imagery and symbols that aren't like anything you've seen before, and you can't help the bad feeling that runs through you as you brush your fingertips over the parchment.

You consider telling him about the bad feeling, but looking up at his excited face as he stares at the pages from over your shoulder, you lose the will to ruin his joy.

You think, and hope for a moment that he's going to ask you to go with him, as usual, but your heart drops in your chest when he starts to talk about leaving fun little riddles for Anne to solve, that he couldn't wait for her to join him on this exploration.

He falters as he witnesses your crestfallen face, mistaking your heartache for exhaustion as he brushes his thumb over your cheek gently. The touch sends sparks through you and you look into his beautiful brown eyes as he speaks.

"You don't look so well. You should try and get some rest."

There's an annual ball coming up in the next couple of weeks, and it's all the Hogwarts students can talk about. You don't think you'll go. Don't want to see Richard dancing with Anne. Whom you know that he invited. But then you are surpised by an unexpected invite by a boy in your year named Tobias Ashworth, a Gryffindor. He's handsome, you note, but a bit quiet. Likes to keep himself to himself, usually. Then he tells you that he's noticed you around the castle, in your quiet moments alone when you're in the library or tending your plant's in the greenhouse. He thinks that you seem like a nice person and would love to take you to the ball, get to know you better.

You think of declining, but then you think of Richard, and of Anne, and so you smile at Tobias and accept his offer.

The night of the ball is in full swing. Tobias is off getting you drinks. He looks very handsome in his tailored dress robes. You are wearing a fine gown of green silk and lace, long pearlescent gloves up to your elbows. You stand in a corner, watching. Looking out for Anne and Richard. You see them dancing at the far end of the Great Hall. You also see the seething glares of Apollonia Black as she watches the same couple, blatant jealousy shining through even though she had a good looking boy on her arm tonight. You roll your eyes, the action becoming a habit of yours.

Tobias returns with your drinks. You try and forget about Richard and focus on your date, accepting with a small curtesy when he asks you to join him on the dancefloor.

You don't notice the disapproving looks sent your way by your best friend, who although dancing with Anne, has noticed your presence and is quite disconcerted about the fact that you're dancing with a random boy that he's never met before. He also thinks that he's never seen you look this lovely before, noting the curves of your body in the pretty dress that you're wearing. He doesn't enjoy the fact that your dance partner is holding said curves and frowns, returning his focus to Anne when she notes his distraction.

Tobias presses his lips against the back of your gloved hand just outside the Slytherin common room, thanking you for a perfect evening and bidding you goodnight. You watch his figure dissappear up the stone steps behind you, a smile on your face. Turning to enter through the enchanted snake archway, you are shocked when a voice whispers into your ear.

"He seems...nice."

From nowhere, Richard appears, dropping his disillusionment charm and looking down at your scared form with a smirk on his face. You frown and reprimand him for sneaking up on you, before putting two and two together and realising that he must have been following you. You ask him as such to which he scoffs and looks away.

He informs you that he wasn't being creepy. He just wanted to make sure that Tobias' intentions with you were above board. He thinks that the other boy is a terrible match for you and that you deserve better.

You look at him incredulously, not sure how to respond to him, but silently seethe. How dare he? How dare he presume to have any say over who you decide to date? Who would be good for you? Tears fill your eye's and you turn to storm away from him, afraid you'll say something you'll regret. That is until you feel a hand wrap around your gloved wrist to yank you back. Your head snaps back toward him angrily, tears now flowing down your face. You tell him to go back to Anne. To leave you alone.

Richard is confused. Confused because he doesn't quite understand what he's feeling tonight. He thinks of Apollonia, the vile temptress. And then he thinks of lovely Anne, with whom he said goodnight to earlier before giving in to the jealous streak that made him follow you tonight. And then he thinks of you. That wonderful constant in his life. There through the best and worst of his times. He remembers the way that you danced with that other boy tonight, and the way the sight of it sent sharp tentrils of pain through his chest. Confusing.

He sees you now, tears streaming over flushed cheeks, angry azure eyes barely focusing on him, and he thinks that you are possibly one of the most beautiful, strong and smart girls that he's ever laid eyes upon. How hadn't he noticed that before?

Coarse fingertips gently brush stray hair from your temple, another hand cradling your chin as though your face were made of china. Chocolate irises gazed into your angry ones with intent. Your lungs struggle to take in a breath of air. When had he gotten so close? And then his lips, divine and soft, were brushing softly against yours, slowly and unsure. You barely had a chance to register before he was pulling away, forehead resting against yours as you both took deep breaths.

"I'm sorry."

He spoke the words and then shot away, down into the Slytherin common room and out of sight. You stood alone, trying to process what had happened, your fingers trailing over your lips as another stray tear fell to join the salty streaks on your face. You briefly wonder whether you are destined for heartache.

You don't speak to Richard for the next two weeks, only seeing him in classes and rare glimpses throughout the castle. You don't even see him in the common room. The distance makes you feel physically sick, the memory of his soft touch constantly replaying in your mind. You miss him terribly.

The few times that you do see him, Anne is predictably by his side, smiling her perfect smile as he laughs at something she'd said to him. Another blow to your tormented soul.

Tobias says hello now and then, if your paths cross in the hallways. Though you get the feeling that he too, is keeping his distance. You wonder if Richard has said anything to the poor boy. Likely.

You begin to regret not having a wider friend group. Days that were usually spent in Richard's company now reduced to a pathetic loneliness in his absence. You feel increasingly more hollow as the days pass by.

It's late one evening when you awaken in your dormitory bed, the girls that you share your room with are sound asleep. You wipe the sweat from your brow. Another nightmare. About Richard, and those damned pages of his. You can't quite recall the dream, but it was bad enough for you to wake up in a cold sweat. You wrap your night robe around yourself and walk as silently as possible out of your dorm and into the Slytherin common room.

Curled up on one of the plush, elegant sofas in front of the fireplace, you stare into the flames. You are unable to shake away the awful feelings that stemmed from your dream. This, along with your injured heart, causes twin tears to trail down over your face. You wipe them away, frustrated. Another tear. Then another. The deluge refuses to stop. You press your face into you knees which are tucked up against your body and sob. Your body shakes visibly from the force of your anguish.

An arm wraps around you. The sofa shifting as a body presses up beside you. Your face snaps to the left, shocked, embarrassed to be caught in such a state.

Richard's face is laden with guilt. He pulls you further in to him, burying his face into your hair and mumbling something that sounded like 'sorry' in a regretful tone.

You should be angry. You should be storming away from him and not looking back. You quickly realise that you could never do that, though. Not with him. Instead you press your sodden face into his neck, your arms winding around his broad form and you let him hold you, comfort you as you finally release your frustration.

After calming down somewhat, you ask him why he kissed you that night, to which he replied honestly. He has feelings for you, and is confused. He has feeling's for Anne as well, but his feelings for you had bombarded him out of nowhere. Smacking him like a bludger to the head.

After about an hour of reconciliation, apologies and emotionally charged conversation, you're feeling exhausted. Your feelings are still very much all over the place. Truths had been spoken but made thing's even more confusing than before.

Richard runs a hand through his soft brown curls and yawns. He informs you that he's planning on following his mystery map the next evening, with Anne hopefully joining him should she figure out the puzzles he'd left for her. He gives you a longing look before sheepishly asking if you'd like to join him.

You shake your head quickly, that feeling of dread curling down your arms and into the tips of your fingers. You grip onto Richard's shirt sleeves tightly, looking up at him with fearful, desperate eyes. You beg him not to go. To forget about the pages and the silly map. You even offer to go treasure hunting elsewhere with him, so long as he promised that he'd abandon this quest of his. He chuckles and pulls you closer to him so that your head is resting on his chest. He card's his fingers through your hair, a soothing motion that makes your eyes droop. You reach out to grip his hand, already half asleep, and press your lips against his knuckles.

"...Promise me...promise that you'll stay...I need you..."

His heart clenches as he watches your eyes finally flutter shut, his hand still clasped in yours. Leaning down, he presses his lips against your forehead, wordlessly asking you to forgive him.

You wake late into the day to the sounds of students bustling around the common room. You were exactly where you fell asleep in the early hours, the only difference being the lack of Richard by your side.

Your chest still tightened when you thought of him, and of Anne and your situation. You push the thought's to the back of your mind and head to the showers to clean up.

The day passes by uneventfully. You throw yourself back into your studies, feeling at least a tad lighter now that your emotions were laid bare and Richard was speaking to you again. You don't see him all day, which doesn't surprise you anymore. You hope you'll see him later in the common room.

Night falls. He still neglects to make an appearance. You think suddenly of the map and the book pages. That's where he was, you thought. He was off adventuring with Anne in the moonlight. You'd asked him not to go, but he'd gone anyway.

You close your eyes and stare out into the murky depths of the black lake. The tall glass windows shimmered with the motion of the water. The quiver of foreboding is present once more.

After a night and morning of practically no sleep, you are sitting alone at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. You pick at your food, chewing away at the tiny pieces. Your mind was on Richard, and how he had fared with Anne on their outing. Something wasn't sitting right with you though. A quick enquiry earlier had informed you that he hadn't returned to his dorm that night. Your instant thought was that he'd most likely slept in the lakeside cavern instead of disturbing his dorm mates. He'd probably taken Anne there too. You soured at the thought.

This hypothesis was thrown to the wind when none other than Anne herself approached your table, quietly asking you for a word.

She wants to know if you've seen Richard this morning. She informs you that she did not, in fact, accompany him on his venture last night. She found his letter and his puzzle, but being unable to solve it, decided not to go to him. Anne looks sheepishly at the floor. You begin to panic. You try to remember the landmarks on the map, but come up blank. You take off from the Great Hall, leaving Anne standing there dumbfounded.

It's hard to breath. The dread. The nightmares. They were trying to warn you of something, you just knew it. As soon as you were outside, you pulled out your retractable broomstick and extended it, hopping on and flying as fast as you could towards the one place you could remember from the map-the Forbidden Forest. You'd search the entire damned place if you had to, praying to Merlin that you would find your best friend.

Weeks had passed and you'd run out of tears to cry. Your searching had proved fruitless. The pain inside you was incomparable to anything that you'd ever felt before. You missed him. Missed his voice, missed his touch, missed his friendship. The school was aware of his disappearance, and Aurors were sent to investigate but even they came up short. It was as if he'd simply vanished.

You knew in your heart that something awful had happened to him though. And you were numb. If he were ok, he'd have come back to you by now.

You dreamt of him frequently, his fingers on you skin, a look of pure, unconditional affection shining in his eyes. And then you'd wake up, drenched in sweat with your face sticky from your tears.

It was one such night, lying in your bed, that you'd woken yourself up with your whimpers and snot ridden nose. Your hair stuck to your wet cheeks and you sobbed into your arm that draped over your eyes. You lay there in your grief, briefly considering casting muffliato, when an echoey yet familiar voice broke through the darkness of the room.

There, at the foot of your bed, stood none other than Richard Jackdaw. Or rather, floated Richard Jackdaw. Your hand shot up to clasp around your mouth, unable to handle the absolute agony of witnessing your best friend, your lost love...hovering before you as a ghost. A fresh flood of tears waterfalled from your eyes and you groaned into your palm.

Richard looked at you with despair, his ethereal form moving closer to you, as if to comfort you. He brought his wispy hand up to your face, but sadness befell him when his fingertips passed through you. You try to ask him what happened, through shaking breaths, but he can't remember how he died. He apologised for not listening to you and for being a terrible friend, to which you denied with a sob.

He begins to move away from your bed, at which you panic and whisper for him not to go, not to leave you again. He turns to look at you with a sad smile, his once vivid eyes now black and lifeless.

"I was in love with you, you know."

And then, he was gone, and you wouldn't see him again for a long, long time.

That night, you cast the silencing charm around you and screamed and cried until your voice was hoarse and you had nothing left to give. You cursed that map, and you cursed yourself for not being able to save him.

Fin.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fandom #harry potter #slytherin pride #hogwarts legacy oc #Richard Jackdaw #hogwarts legacy mc #Anne Thisbe #Apollonia Black

[mdhwrites]

What did you think of Anne's sacrifice/death/rebirth, especially compared to Luz's? Do you think it's the sane Anne, or was she replaced by a copy?

So I've talked before about how the death/rebirth of Anne is beautiful. How death is the greatest change we as humans have to ever face and Anne embraces it to save the community she cared about. It's pitch perfect thematically and her understanding she's still a dumb teen and STILL embracing death instead of godhood not only helps keep the thematics on point but also is just great for her character.

As for the clone... Why does it matter? A large part of Amphibia's optimism with change is that our experiences shape us. That they and the people we have met along the way will always be a part of us and shape who we shall be. Since this Anne has all of her memories, all of her experiences, all of those connections... Why should we argue about whether the cells and the like are the same? That is Anne.

It's actually a fun parallel to the Ship of Theseus that doesn't require transfer of souls or the like. That is Anne because she has the spirit of Anne. The personality. The heart. She could be placed into a giant monster or a tiny robot and it would still be Anne. Arguing if she's the same or not is pointless.

Also, comparing it to Luz is laughable. TOH doesn't have themes that fit trying to portray death as an accidental thing you can't control, the only reason The Collector needs saving is due to stupid writing, the choice isn't hers and her going to see the Titan pretty much purely exists for LITERAL GOD to pat her on the head, give her a cookie, tell her she's special and then let her go. Hell, the fact that Luz gets given a choice barely works on a meta level, let alone a narrative one. Do you want to go back, save all your friends, be beloved by all and get to live out the same sort of consequence free fantasy you've always wanted to? Or do you want to die and let everyone you know die for no reason? Especially no reason when you've gone through THREE different character conclusions IN THIS SEASON about you forgiving yourself for your singular mistake that barely mattered to anything.

That is INFINITELY more stupid and meaningless than "Do you feel confident to control the fates of UNIVERSES or do you have humility and accept that you did good and are willing to die with that?" Because remember: Anne isn't revived because she asks to be. She's revived because her willingness to believe ANYONE can improve and no one is flawless, INCLUDING HER, convinces the god that hey, if I think she's ready now, just imagine what more life experience will do to her? Before she gets revived without it even actually being her choice. Though, she does say that she'd like to live again which stops it from being like the guardian is doing something she doesn't want.

It's beautiful and part of why I had to talk about how the fandom undersold it because sure, you can describe it as "Anne dies saving Amphibia and then is revived by god," but that is leaving out JUST how good the writing is. Then again, much of Amphibia looks just fine on paper but looking a little closer almost always yields so much more than you'd expect.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

And finally a Twitter you can follow too!

#amphibia #anne boonchuy #amphibia finale

[skriveting]

A bunch of different writing prompts MASTERLIST #2

updated 13.11.22

MASTERLIST #1 HERE

"This isn't going anywhere."

"This is making me very uncomfortable." "Good, I'm glad."

"Move along, move along, nothing to see here!"

"Where have you been?"

"My will to live is dwindling at an alarming rate."

"Don't get confused, you are disposable."

"Do you maybe wanna be friends?" "Go away!"

"Yeah, that tracks."

"A friend of theirs is no friend of mine."

"Why did you cut it like that?"

"Oh, dear."

"Could you put the knife down while you're talking, please?"

"Okay, I get it now." "You do?" "Yeah!" "Are you sure?" "No."

"All right, now let's get back to me yelling!"

"Let's eat a kiwi or two and calm down." "You know I don't condone cannibalism." "No, no, that's not what I meant-"

"How is it only Wednesday..." "It's Monday." "NO!!!!"

"Great, you again."

"You mean to tell me she hasn't read 1984?!" "Michael, she's 4." "And??"

"Hm. You know, I didn't really care to know that."

"It's getting worse, isn't it?" "It's nothing, don't worry about it."

"What's a few threats between friends?" "Exactly."

"I guess when you put it like that..."

"You couldn't be more wrong if you tried."

"I wish I could go on just one date where I didn't have to use the Heimlich maneuver." "Dude, what goes on on your dates?" "I wish I knew!"

"Keep up, please." "I'm trying!"

"What did you think?" "It was not good." "Dad!"

"Well I've heard that I can be an asshole, but I don't think it'll be a major problem." "I beg to differ."

"How was I supposed to know that?" "Well, if you'd read the brief I sent you, you would have!" "It was 600 pages!!"

"Put that down, that's disgusting."

"I'll tell you, that threw me for quite a loop!" "Stop talking like that."

"I've waited a long time for this." "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"So what's your plan, talking me to death? Because if so, it's working."

"Let's go, I don't have all day."

"I thought this would be difficult. But, looking at you now..."

"Have you always been this much of an asshole?"

"The least you could do is put up a fight worth my time."

"Why are we doing this?" "You can't be serious."

"Stop wasting time."

"Pity. I'd actually been looking forward to this."

"And you wonder why I hate you."

"Don't push your luck."

"I came alone."

"How you doing, champ?" "Don't call me that."

"I'll let you know."

"How are you still alive?!" "That's a long story."

"A hello would've been nice."

"I'm out of here."

"Get me out of this wretched torture device!" "Get a hold of yourself, it's just a turtleneck sweater-" "I am suffocating!!"

"Yes, it's terrible, and yes, I love it."

"Would you let go already?!"

"Riddle me this: what the heck is going on?!"

"You'd think I'd know better by now."

"I'm feeling pretty vulnerable right now." "Sick, dude."

"Some things never change."

"I'd like for us all to acknowledge that this was a huge mistake."

"So, what do you think?" "Hm. Not enough violence."

"If everyone could just calm down for a second, that'd be great."

"What more do I have to do before you realize that you can trust me?"

"I'm not into that sort of stuff."

"This is actually a pretty common side-effect." "Somehow I doubt that."

"Ever since the day I met you I feel the light inside me dwindle a little more with each passing day."

"You aren't meant to live like this." "Says who?"

"I've had a really hard time trying to work through this."

"What are you doing here? It's four in the morning!"

"Some days I really love my job. This is not one of those days."

"Are you sure about this?" "As sure as I can be, given the circumstances."

"I've given them enough chances. I'm not letting myself be put through that again."

"You got the right answer, but I have no idea how." "Neither do I, to be honest."

"How did you survive that??"

"There's just something about it that bugs me, but I can't put my finger on it..."

"Take that thing off."

"You don't have to tell me twice."

"Did you seriously think that would work?"

"Don't bother me."

"That's all right, I was leaving anyway."

"Well, you know..." "No, I don't, that's why I'm asking."

"Guess I missed the memo."

"Nevermind, it's nothing."

"What gave you that impression?"

“I don't take orders from anyone, let alone from people like you.”

"Wait, you’re telling me it’s supposed to taste like this??"

"It’s not wise to live a life where you make decisions based on compassion and love in a world that won’t show you any."

"Let's save us both some time and just be honest with each other from the start. If you're not, I'll find out eventually anyway, so let's just cut the crap right from the get-go."

"Isn't this enough?"

"Are you afraid?" "Of you? Never."

"Don't ever make me do that again."

"What are you doing?" "I told you, you have to trust me. I figure I should prove to you that you can."

"How stupid do you think I am?!"

"You owe me." "I don't owe you anything."

"I can't believe you carried me off like that, you made me look like a weakling in front of everyone!" "You were dying-" 

"Are you seeing this too or am I having a stroke?"

"Stop doing that, you're freaking me out!"

"This cake reeks of resentment and bitterness." "When we get to the party I'm going to need you to stop talking like that."

"Hang on, hang on, I have the perfect playlist for this scenario-" "Now is not the time!!!"

"Are those... bite marks?"

"The only thing about you that never disappoints, is your ability to disappoint."

"You're incredible." "Aw, thanks!" "Not a compliment, babe."

"I thought you didn't believe in fate." "Until I met you, I didn't."

"Get that thing away from me!"

"I want to get better, I just don't know how..." "That's bullshit."

"Name's Tammy. Short for Tambourine."

"Quit your yapping and start napping."

"Hold on tight!"

"Are you sure you're not drunk?"

"What am I supposed to do with this thing??" "She's a baby, Marc!" "Okay, what am I supposed to do with this baby??!"

"I... I've got nothing."

"You're coming here, right now, are we clear?"

"Why does it matter?" "Because it matters to me!"

"What do you think?" "Do you want me to be honest, or do you want me to be nice? I can't do both."

"I can't do that, I'll embarrass myself!" "That's never stopped you before!"

#writing prompts #writeblr #writing #writblr #writers of tumblr #dialogue prompts #fanfiction prompts #dialogue prompt #writing prompt #prompt #prompts #story prompt #enemies to best friends #friends to enemies #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends #enemies to besties #enemies to bffs #enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to friends trope #enemies to soulmates #writing masterlist #writing masterpost #masterlist #fanfic prompts #fanfic inspiration #fanfiction prompt #fanfiction inspiration #fanfiction inspo #fanfic inspo

[mantra4ia]

I didn't think it was possible for an adaptation to break my fandom heart, however

I just finished season 3 of the Witcher on Netflix

and I cannot yet put into words how disheartened I feel about it except to say 1) bigger in scale doesn't always mean better in quality and 2) I feel like 90% of the commentary in "the making of season 3" is hype.

In my opinion, a majority of the dialogue in this season is painful no matter how hard the actors try to deliver them sincerely and the people who are trying to upsell how faithful it is to the books are clearly omitting much context of the books. I do not feel like reliving the dialogue to site a litany of grievance, but "you'd be dead already" was beaten to death, as was "never lost, always found." The scripting pen was a lot more clever in the days of death and destiny circa season 1. Not just clever, but cutting, sassy even in the midst of purposeful crudeness, artful, and complex. It didn't need to spell things out for you and could let you stumble into unraveling meaning whereas this season clocked you over the head. And it wasn't just the actual lines on the page, but the timing of their delivery — for example the monologues in combat — that makes a bad situation go from rough to rags. Cahir ("my life is yours" speech) and Vilgefortz ("the hardest part was holding back") have some of the worst offending instances. That, and when they threw in a "he's having a heart attack" medical drama one liner in the midst of battle on the Isle of Thanedd, I wanted to 🤦 smack a skull.

The set dressing, when it's not overwhelming —the outlandishness of Redania, back to back with the bombastic excesses of mages on the Isle hardly gives you a moment to discern the differences, it seems homogeneously over the top — makes be sad (footnote: random bowls of apples in hallways of an academy where people can conjure magical meals at will is just sort of silly in a very 90s movie, castle interior stereotype way). I don't think that one set or scenic shot caught my eye in a memorable way, and considering we saw Shaerrawedd this season that's a shame. Yarpen's tiny house is one of my few exceptions of well designed spaces. We also could have used more contrast in design by seeing life/ stylistic choices within the empire — given that the story from here on goes into the war trenches —and so it is disappointing that the few shots we get of Nilfgaard center around an underwhelming Emyhr as opposed to culture, mentality, and actual sense of the opposition and the scale of them.

Also, there were a few props that made me want to shut off my television in terms of quality on camera. Example: the first time we see Milva draw her bow. That poor, ridiculous bow that is neither a good example from text or a nod to any archers.

The fights do not all have their own distinct style as the commentary suggests, and the ones that do have distinguishable flare are filled with artful camera work for the sake of itself; as opposed to adding to the fight it was often distracting. There were also excessive cuts at various camera angles that were superfluous, as evidenced in the walk up leading to Geralt vs Vilgefortz. Two fight sequences were a joy to watch: the Rats escape and one of the opening sequences where Geralt confronts the bounty hunters and we see him walk away through the eyes of the man that he just beheaded as the skull hits the ground. It was an interesting stylistic choice with memorable impact. Nothing that hits like Blaviken combat, but a highlight.

The monster design (the flesh monster and others) makes me miserable, the rendering of which take me out of the fights built around them. Gone are the days of the Stryga and the Bruxa.

Not concluding the the first or the second act of season 3 with the siege of Aretuza and the destruction of Tor Lara was a mistake of timing. Following the battle, the subsequent desert scenes (and Brokilon to some extent) dragged on. Even weird, trippy cameos couldn't save them. Freya/Ciri has some decent beats of progressive desperation descending into madness leading up to finding "little horse" and confronting the demons of her psyche, but the cutting and the placement of the desert sequence does it no favors.

Speaking further on Aretuza, the battle of mages and scoia'tal missed a lot of moments. If we were going to spend precious screen time dividing the familial core four (Yen/Jaskier/Geralt/Ciri) so that Yen can go back for Tissaia— knowing that very soon in the plot it will be divided again when Ciri is portalled and someone is captured by Vilgefortz — then the battle better be worth it. It wasn't entirely. The conflict opened with a very "for the stage" kind of choreography with the assembly of mages. The conflict ramped up with dimeritium arrows (kinda predictable) and elven guts, and then ended on a strange note with Alzur's Thunder, an interesting nod to game play with 50/50 execution on screen. Given that this season likes narrative voiceovers, there was a lot they could have done with Alzur's Thunder in terms of sound, flashbacks, interior cuts of Tor Lara, narration, or even spell work of Yennefer being able to enter Tissaia's mind, to nicely harken back to the themes of control and deepest fears, when Tissaia's spell casting and loss of control parallels Yennefer's early years (lightning in a bottle), and each character comes full circle in pulling chaos back from the edge. But those themes are overshadowed by flash and bang. The opportunity for a contrasting small / personal moment with Yennefer and Tissaia amidst the larger battle is lost.

I'm sorry, but when LSH says this season is very character driven, I don't know what final cut she's watching. It feels like we're racing through plot points A-Z while nearly none of the character relationships get time to breath and impart their emotional beats. Spoiler alert: I should feel devastated when Vilgefortz beats Geralt, literally breaks him, but I don't. I should feel bad when Tissaia dies, I don't. They're trying to rush feelings between Triss and Istredd, Fringilla and Francesa, that I really can't be bothered about because there are so many characters given side quests that no one really gets their due. Least among them in the supporting cast Phillipa, which has animosity with Tissaia that doesn't land, a relationship with Dijkstra that doesn't land, a sidepiece that doesn't land, and is (apart from some interesting wardrobe, hair and makeup choices) reduced to a presence that provides forewarning about Lydia and Vilgefortz. And least among the main cast Geralt, who spends a whole lot of screen time in passive action exuding quiet contempt for other characters. Which is a shame, because if this truly is the last time we see Henry as Geralt, they should have given this man free reign to burn the barn down.

One shining note: I truly appreciate that we bookend this season with narration from Yennefer and, to a lesser extent, Geralt. It is a nice, if slightly less eloquent, homage to the corresponding letters in the novels (pieced together from multiple books). I would have loved far more for each episode to make some use of narration, as a kind of through-thread for this season, in order to get equal turns from Ciri and Jaskier. Ciri has some great internal dialogue of things that she wishes she could say to Yennefer but doesn't before their family splits apart (unspoken moments of respect, adoration, and love that get quickly summarized by ice skating montages). Ans Jaskier is quite often the "unreliable" narrator in sections of the novels, which flashes backwards and forwards from his slightly mythologized autobiography as a world famous bard. Both of them really needed their turn in this season to be an overarching voice.

This season hurts. I'm glad if you are a Witcher / Sapkowski fan and you enjoyed yourself in season 3. But it really let me down, the creative direction and didn't seem to come together into a cohesive tone (it couldn't strike the balance between humor and gravitas), vision, or unfolding of the story.

I don't know if I can bring myself to rewatch this season a second time with fresh eyes and hope for the best. But I will miss Henry Cavill, and have much respect for cast and crew.

#Netflix: the Witcher #the witcher season 3 #witcher reaction'd #the witcher Netflix spoilers #fail #geralt of rivia #jaskier #cirilla of cintra #lauren hissrich

[ronniescribbles]

Holidays at Hogwarts

Severus Snape x Reader

1,730 Words

You can read it on AO3 here!

Winter break has finally arrived at Hogwarts! Snape has a heartwarming day planned for you, and even if things go a little off-script, he still has a way of making the holidays the best they could be.

A/N: A late Merry Christmas and a Happy New Years to you all! I had to get this one posted before 2023, so pardon any mistakes/oddities, as I didn't have a chance to get this one screened for mistakes, haha. I planned for it to be here sooner but I hope you all enjoy this nonetheless! I just love the idea of Snape having close student-friends that he can just be more himself around and form good bonds with. <3 Please enjoy~!

Thanks to you all for supporting me in my writing shenanigans this year, I can't wait to see what's to come in 2023 <3

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

Morning sunlight glistened against the frosted window beside your bed. The light cast itself against your eyelids, a gentle greeting for the weeks ahead of you. You'd managed to string yourself along through finals week and survived your friends' light–hearted nagging as they packed to go home... and at last, the day had come: the first day of winter break at Hogwarts.

You hesitantly opened your eyes to see the same dorm you awoke to every morning. This time it was emptier, and thus you stretched yourself to awareness in peace. A few students quietly chattered to themselves as you rustled into a warm sweater, complete with your house's emblem embroidered on the front. The knitted wool scratched against your arms comfortably, and it embraced you like an old friend.

You made sure to sling your bag across your shoulder as you made your way to the Great Hall. You looked around the normally packed halls, seeing that they now had only a few students sprinkled here and there. Two lovers sat on a bench sharing a morning embrace, one pupil with their head pressed into a book, and even a skittish house elf rushing through the corridor with an empty serving tray in hand. As your head swayed from side to side in admiration of the life around you, you noticed a familiar figure with his cape lifted in the air as he walked.

"Oh, Professor Snape!" You called out cheerily, hand raised to catch the attention of the eyes on the back of his head that he always teased of having.

His footsteps ceased as he turned to look at you. "I see someone is in a rather pleasant mood?" You knew it wasn't a question, but his formality still caused you to giggle and try to answer him.

"Well, it is the holidays, after all! Aren't you excited, sir?" You folded your arms at him.

"I do not get excited, it is not in my... nature." A playful smirk crept onto the once stoic man's face.

There was a glimmer of truth in the statement – Snape wasn't one to partake in festivities with as much excitement as you – but he had his own ways of enjoying the season. Crisp pages of a new book, warm crocheted blankets draping his figure, a steaming cup of tea by his bedside... Yes, these all sounded lovely, especially given the cold breeze biting at his cheeks.

Your eyes rolled at his smart remark, and you moved a hand to rest on his shoulder. "I hope that doesn't mean you're bailing on our plans for today, Professor." You shot him a friendly eyebrow-raise as if to dare him.

His hands raised in surrender. "Why, of course not. I'm quite looking forward to spending the day with you, actually." He then moved to hold one side of his cape towards you, offering you the spot next to him. You gladly took it, and the two of you began to walk together.

You couldn't help but nod in admittance that you shared this feeling with him. You'd been up all night thinking of what he possibly had in store for you today. He'd kept it a surprise, even up until this point, and you felt your curiosity starting to boil over as you entered the Great Hall. Would he finally take you to Diagon Alley? Oh, and maybe he planned to take you to the new coffee shop that opened up next to the potions shop! The possibilities were endless... but Merlin's beard, what could it be?

Blueberry pancakes and crisped potatoes were far less appealing than the approaching reveal of what Snape hid up his sleeve. It could be anything – mostly anything, you corrected your thoughts – especially because he could be very passionate in gift-giving for those he cared about. You were one of those people he cherished, one of the lucky few who were able to see beyond the hardened walls he built to protect himself... and you really were lucky, truly, to be able to say that. Even if others knew him as a scolding professor, a cruel–hearted potions master, you knew the real him, and for that you could only be thankful.

"Lost in our thoughts again, are we?"

You pouted at the realization that Snape had listened in on your internal dialogue, albeit probably unintentionally. He saw this and chuckled gently, interjecting before you could respond.

"Yours are more... prominent to me, naturally, yes." He flashed a warm smile to you as he reached for another biscuit. "And it's quite alright, really. I appreciate your kind words, even if they were only brought to life in your mind."

You knew he was excited as well, in his own toned–down way. The fact that he had even offered you a smile in a room so full of students showed you just how much he looked forward to today's events. You could only manage to playfully roll your eyes at him.

He broke the soft dough in half, offering a piece to you. "You'll need energy for today, no doubt," he added when he noticed the confused look on your face.

Hints of honey and cinnamon melted against your tongue as you chewed the piece of biscuit. That was one thing about Hogwarts: Christmas breakfast just tasted better here. Snape nodded at you in approval as he finished his meal, clearing off both plates with a fluid swish of his wand. You eagerly stood up with him.

"Are we going now?" You asked quickly, bouncing in impatience at this point.

The man seemed to think for a moment. "Well, I think I must go back to my office and finish scoring..." He trailed off, his voice thick with faux–seriousness. "I'm only teasing, don't look so sour."

Snape led you out of the Great Hall and down the decorated castle corridors. Golden tinsel wrapped around the armored knights standing at attention throughout the hallway. Flashes of maroon and evergreen passed your eyes as you followed the swishing obsidian to your right. The colors blended together as he led you down flights of stairs, step by step, and finally, you stood in front of a worn-down door, a mix of browns and tans – his office door.

You turned your head, almost comically slow, towards the pale figure who now had a cheeky grin on his face. "...You said you were teasing."

"Well, the first of your surprises awaits you inside, so unless you would rather turn around and forgo the entire thing," the door interrupted his pause with a squeak, "I suggest you step inside."

That cheeky Slytherin, how he frustrated you to your wits end. With a sigh, you entered the room, only to be greeted by what was very obviously a cauldron wrapped in flashy green paper. Did Snape wrap this? The mental image of Snape clad in his Christmas PJs, grumpily struggling to wrap up a cauldron appeared in your mind, and you couldn't help but giggle.

"I'll have you know I wouldn't dare step foot in scratchy sleepwear such as the ones you're envisioning."

That was doubtful, somehow, and you swore to one day force the headmaster into a pair of gaudy, festive jammies.

You unwrapped the gift, which indeed was a cauldron, but the quality of this one was absolutely stunning. Intricate swirls of metal adorned the legs and handles, a Hogwarts crest had been melded to the base, and even your name sat neatly engraved into the baseplate.

"Oh, Snape.." You felt your bottom lip jutting upward, "This is too much…"

"Nonsense. You're one of my brightest students, and moreso, one I consider a dear friend. You're determined and strong, beyond your years, and I hope this will serve you well."

He paused to point a long finger towards the inside of the cauldron. "Did you see the note?"

…The note? You hadn't seen a note at all, what note– low and behold, a small piece of parchment paper sat inside the bowl of the cauldron. You carefully unfurled it, reading:

"I know you haven't had much time to be small, so I reserved the courtyard for the day.

Perhaps you'd like a snowball fight, little one?

–S.S."

You turned to Snape again, only to be met with the half-ajar door to his office. Oh, if that's how he wants to play, it's on. Quick taps echoed throughout the hallways as you barrelled up to the courtyard. By the time you made it to the entryway, you had thoroughly slipped into headspace – obvious by the toothy smile you beamed at Snape.

He stood with a smile on his face as well, holding a white lump of snow in his hand. Despite your natural instinct to compete in this impromptu snowball fight, you instead waddled up to wrap your arms around him. Thankfully, he ceased fire and returned the gesture with a few light pats on your back. The warmth helped aid how underdressed you were for the snow.

"Tank you for makin' Chrimmas better, Sevvy." You managed to speak through your shivers.

"I believe I should be the one saying that to you, dearest child." His breath was warm against your ear as he laughed. "You've somehow charmed me into the festive professor that stands before you today."

You felt yourself quivering in his arms, even despite the layers of cloth hugging at your skin. Severus took a step back, leaving you lacking any kind of warmth for a moment. Before you could pout or whine, he shrugged his cloak off. He knelt down to your level and swaddled you in it.

"Better, little one?" he asked as he pressed a soft peck to your forehead.

You nodded and gave him a thankful smile.

"Excellent. I'm assuming, by the looks of it, that you'd rather spend today by the fire?" And when you confirmed it with another nod, he took your hand. "Let's get you warmed up then, child."

The rest of the day was indeed spent snuggled up by the fire, paired with warm cocoa and regressed, half-coherent conversations with Snape. He entertained you with stories of cauldron explosions and presents received in years past, and you happily sat up against him and soaked in these memories with him. What better way to spend the holidays than here, beside him, anyway?

#severus snape x reader #snape x reader #snape fanfiction #severus snape #agere fandom #agere fanfic #age regression #sfw age regression #fanfic

[egg-emperor]

To be honest, the only real criticism I have of you is that you spend way more time complaining about people not liking you or having the wrong opinions about Eggman than you do just enjoying Eggman for what he is. Just let people be wrong, man. Let go and just enjoy what you like about Eggman instead of worrying about what others think. This isn't me being annoyed at you either. I'm not. This is me thinking you'd be happier if you quit worrying about others' opinions so much.

I'm surprised it seems that way because my blog is a much more positive place than a negative one all around, I have way more Eggman love posts, analysis, concepts, writings, etc, where I just talk about what I love than I do thinking about what others think and I'm happy when I'm not being harassed over it. I think that shows if one goes through my Eggman specific tags.

I actually don't spend a lot of time thinking about what others think about Eggman. I don't even seek out online talk of him in general nowadays because I realized how negative it was making me feel. I don't search him up on any social media platforms anymore unless I can heavily filter, specifically to avoid that, as sad as I am about missing out on good things people create.

I know a bunch of my posts are counters to popular opinions but they're ones I just remember and I like to bring up for the sake of my analysis or my takes, so if that counts I guess it is a bit more than I feel like I do. But that's just me constantly being aware I have the unpopular opinion/takes/preferences and trying to help with some corrections when mistakes are made and I'm passionate about that.

I find it really hard to let people be wrong if I see blatant misinformation about something I love. I know a lot of people hate it but I really just want to help people learn the truth and understand more because I'm really passionate about it and like to get a chance to share my knowledge and help out. When people tell me they were helped out by me doing that, it makes me really happy and like what I do is worth it and they're who I really make it for always.

But I almost never come in and start directly making corrections to people unless it's in direct messages, I use my own blog instead of intruding on posts, which I feel would be worse. Despite being aware that those people who are wrong exist, I'm not making the posts for them because I know they won't see or read it if they're that firm in their beliefs. But I want to put something out there to help other people who might see that misinformation and believe it and it spreads more.

I'm not unhappy while making the posts, they're some of my favorites. But I also have hundreds and hundreds of pages worth of me just gushing over Eggman, sharing my concepts and writing, and analyzing in ways that focus on the official material without focusing on anyone else's outside opinions at all. I am happiest that way but it's definitely heavily outweighing them overall already. I think most days, my blog is far more positive than negative.

My mind does have a problem of fixating on the negatives sometimes when people mistreat me though because then it becomes a lot more personal. A lot of the times they tend to be a very vocal minority that feel like the majority on some days and I'm honest about how I'm feeling in personal posts, like I was yesterday. But I was also drunk for most of it and dwelling about being down in the dumps even more than usual which explains the burst of them lol I should turn my phone off

But yeah I get that if you come in on the wrong day it probably can seem like all I do is think about how others think of Eggman and think of me. But it feels good to get it out, it stops me from thinking about it and calms me down and posting it can potentially help others and that turns it into something happy for me. But there are plenty of things I've written out and not posted when I realize it can't help others and is just pointless negativity, though on bad days I may actually post them

But I think most of the time I think I do a decent job of not thinking about all that and I am trying to work on it more. I don't search for Eggman and have heavily filtered common words to get away from things I don't like, and many days I spend my free time just focusing on my own creations or playing the games and gushing over Eggman and forgetting about the outside world and have a blast. I do feel like my positivity still far outweighs the negative. But I am hoping over time as I improve, the negatives will decrease a bit more.

I appreciate that you're not being mean and angry about this like common hate anons and actually telling me what you think and what I could do. I'm also not trying to say I shouldn't be fairly criticized, I appreciate the honesty and perspective and always encourage it. I don't see it as that bad when looking through my blog because I genuinely don't feel that negative in my posting most of the time but now that you've brought it to my attention more, I can try to hone in and work on it more to avoid that even more. Thank you

#asks

[book666lover]

Ok, so you know the folklore love triangle? (Betty, james and august story)

So I read somewhere a theory that changed my whole perspective on the story and the album in general. I really wish I could give the person who discovered that credit but I have no idea who is it.

So basecly the theory is that the WHOLE album is a story, and the love triangle is just a part of it.

Now I'll go through the songs in the order of them in the story and explain them:

August (august pov): james and august's summer and how it meant a lot to august but nothing to james.

Mirrorball (august pov): august is trying to impress by being something she's not and trying to seem cool.

Betty (james pov): james comes to betty's party and tell her that he want her back and the summer didn't mean anything to him.

Illicit affairs (august pov): august understands how toxic was what she had with james and how wrong was the way he treated her, but she still can't get over him and what they had.

Cardigan (Betty pov): after they graduating, betty realises that james treated her very badly and that he really messed up.

Exile (both james and betty's povs): betty is breaking up with james.

The 1 (Betty pov): betty is starting a new page with herself and although she understands that her relationship with james wasn't right, she still wonders what would it be like if it worked out.

This is me trying (james pov) james is desperately trying to get betty back and to make things right but he can't.

Peace (james pov): james decided that he needs to go away from the city and to join the military so both he and betty could have peace.

Epiphany: james dies in the war.

My tears ricochet (james pov I think): betty attends James's funeral and feeling guilty about not making things right with him before it was too late.

Hoax (betty pov): betty can't get over james death and it turns her insane.

Mad woman (betty's pov): betty is moving to a new town where everyone thinks she's crazy.

Now there's a pause on betty's story and two songs that seem unrelated, but it will be clear in the last song.

Seven: taylor swifts childhood and early life.

Invisible string: taylor swifts adult love life and how all along through her bad relationships and mistakes she was tied to her true lover (aka joe).

Now we're left with one song, the last great America dynasty.

I thing this is the story that beautifully ties it all together.

The song is about rebecah, the last owner of the house taylor swift lives in now. It talks about how she seemed crazy to the rest of the town, and how taylor bought the house 50 years later.

The crazy thing is that rebecah was an actual person, and she went by betty. So the album might tell the story of her life and how it all ties together like an invisible string(!!).

I don't know if this theory is true, but thinking about this story while listening to the album is insane. There are so many connections between the songs and if you'd like I can do another post about where in the lyrics you can see the story.

This is by far my favorite ts theory.

#taylor swift #swifties #taylorstans #folklore #folklore theory #betty #james and betty #august #the folklore love tringle #taylor swift theories