#[ but he's still just ruffle their head before going to hide in a corner and cry--- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

appocalipse · 1 month

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that guy ⊹ steve harrington

summary: After he's been to yet another failed date with yet another random pretty girl, Steve Harrington, your best friend, stops by at the diner your family owns for a late-night chat, same as he'd done a thousand times before. Steve is totally unaware of how much he's hurting you with his endless parade of dates, because after all — the two of you are only friends and nothing more, right? It's not like you have any secret feelings for him… | 2.6k words

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The moment Steve steps through the glass doors of the diner, you wonder, for about the millionth time that month alone, what is it that you've done so wrong to deserve this kind of punishment.

It's Friday night, and on Friday nights, Steve Harrington goes on dates. It's just like clockwork, really: he meets a pretty girl, thinks she's the one, takes her out on a date, realizes quickly enough that she isn't quite what he was looking for, then comes here after having dropped her back home to sulk with you, in the diner that your family runs, still clad in the outfit he'd chosen especially for his failed date.

To be honest, he never looks sad, per se — more like disappointed. Frustrated, maybe.

You watch as he weaves around tables occupied by laughing friends, past booths filled with couples sharing desserts, then slides into a seat in front of you at the bar. Steve sits down with an exhausted sigh, ruffling up his hair before shooting you a tired smile.

"Hi."

You don't look up from where you're polishing the counter. "Bad date again?"

"Not even close. She talked about horses non-stop."

A quiet laugh slips past your lips despite yourself, and finally, you tear your gaze off the dark wooden surface of the counter to look up at him; he's got this pleased little smile on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly in the way they always do whenever he succeeds at making you laugh, even if just a little.

How are you supposed to keep acting like nothing's wrong when he looks at you like that?

You clear your throat awkwardly and make yourself busy stacking clean glasses next to the coffee machine.

"So...not the one, I take it?"

Steve leans forward against the counter and props his head up with his hand, sighing deeply.

"I'm starting to think she won't ever show up," he says quietly, running his other hand through his hair. You chance another glance at him and note how genuinely worried he looks. It breaks your heart almost as much as it annoys you. "What is it that's wrong with me, huh? I just don't get it."

"Nothing is wrong with you."

"You don't need to be nice to me. We've been friends since forever, remember?"

The word 'friends' makes you wince a little bit inside, but you hide the reaction behind a neutral frown. "Do you think there's something wrong with me? Because I haven't found the one yet either, you know."

Steve's expression softens as he looks at you, and once again you feel that horrible twinge in your stomach that you wish would just stop already.

"It's different. I mean—you're not actively trying to find someone." He reaches out to pull one of the half-melted mints out from the glass bowl on the counter and pops it into his mouth with a shrug. "I go out looking for her and she just doesn't come. If she even exists, that is."

"She does."

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, but I wouldn't hold my breath. God, why am I such an idiot, y'know?" Steve slumps over the counter with a groan, burying his face into his crossed arms. "My love life is a trainwreck."

"At least you have one."

He glances up at you curiously and lifts an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing. Forget it. Do you want some pie?"

You're not about to tell him what you've only admitted to yourself mere months ago — that you're actually hopelessly, madly, stupidly in love with him, and that you have been ever since the two of you were just dumb kids racing around your parents' diner.

What makes it even worse is that you had no idea your feelings went that deep until Steve started going on these dates of his again. Before then, everything was normal — you met up every weekend and binged on candy, watched bad movies on your couch, drove around town together blasting The Clash on his BMW's speakers...it was good.

Until it wasn't.

"Wait, c'mon, you can't just leave me hanging like that," Steve presses. He shifts a little on his stool to better face you, then gestures at you with his hands. "You've clearly got something you wanna say, so, like—hit me. Lay it on me."

"Nothing. I'm just saying...at least you're trying, you know," you say carefully, measuring each word before speaking them. "And at least you're the one doing the rejecting. Could be worse."

Steve's eyebrows rise high up on his forehead and he looks at you incredulously. "Whoa, wait—are you trying to tell me you've been rejected?"

You busy yourself by filling two tall glasses with soda, then slide one to his side of the counter and keep the other for yourself. "Uh...kind of, yeah. But it's fine."

"But who the hell would even do that?" he blurts out. There's anger in his voice all of a sudden, a defensive fire in his eyes that makes you feel as if someone has punched you in the gut. "To you? You're like, the nicest person on the planet, and super pretty to boot. That's just—that's crazy!"

Your heart gives a violent little jump in your chest. He thinks you're pretty. Steve Harrington thinks you're pretty.

Pretty as a friend, you correct yourself immediately, and sigh as you sip your drink. Of course, it's nothing more than that — just meaningless words spoken in a moment of unthinking kindness.

"Seriously, who?" he presses on. "Give me a name. I'll fight him."

"You mean like you fought Jonathan Byers?" you smile behind your glass, looking at him from over its rim.

Steve looks embarrassed at the memory and drops his gaze for a second or two before meeting your eyes again with a playful little smile of his own. "Different situation, okay, but that's not the point. So? Who's the guy?"

"You...don't know him," you hedge.

"It's Hawkins. I know the stray cats here by name."

"Fine, well, even if you did know him, it doesn't matter. He didn't reject me, exactly...not really."

Steve frowns a little. "Okay, you're gonna have to start making sense now. This is hurting my head."

The funny thing is, he actually looks confused, as if he can't possibly fathom the idea of someone rejecting you. It's sweet, really — way too sweet for your liking, especially when you know fully well he doesn't see you in the way you'd want him to.

You lower your gaze to avoid his and instead focus on drawing random shapes on the counter with your index finger, where tiny droplets of condensation from your glass have pooled up on the dark wood. "I mean, I never really told him how I felt. Not directly. It just…never happened."

"Oh. Well, then how do you even know if he feels the same way?" he asks you, looking rather doubtful.

You steal another glance at him and almost regret it instantly. His eyes are trained on your face, patient and attentive like you're the only thing worth watching in the world. It makes you feel horribly small and selfish and guilty, because after all, what right do you have to want him when he so clearly wants someone else?

You feel like you could cry. You might, if you don't distract yourself with something fast enough.

"I just know. Do you want some pie? I'll go get you some pie."

Without waiting for a response, you rush off to the kitchen even though there's plenty of pies sitting on the display counter at the bar, and you make a beeline straight for the back exit.

The alley behind the diner is blissfully empty as usual, just a lonely dumpster and a handful of sad-looking shrubs and weeds peeking out from under the concrete.

No, you aren't going to cry.

This is stupid.

You press your back against the rough brick wall of the diner and breathe in deep the warm night air, then exhale slowly as you count to ten in your head.

When the door opens behind you and the diner's familiar chatter and clatter of cutlery spill into the alley, you wince, mentally cursing yourself for being so goddamn weak. You should have known better.

You don't have to look up to know that it's him.

"Are you hiding from me?" Steve's voice comes, quiet and curious and maybe just a little bit hurt, even.

"I got...suddenly nauseous," you explain weakly, still refusing to look up and meet his eyes.

There's a long stretch of silence, and you feel Steve move closer to you until he's leaning against the wall by your side. You finally look up and find him smiling, this gentle, amused little thing that makes your traitorous heart skip a beat.

"You look just fine to me."

You stare up at the sky, head against the wall. "I thought I was gonna throw up."

He's still watching you, you can tell; you're keenly aware of his eyes on you, so much so that your skin prickles at the attention. "No, you didn't."

"No, I didn't," you admit with a sigh, and turn your head to finally look at him. He's got this little half-smile on his lips, the very same one you fell for years ago, and you curse yourself silently for never learning how to let him go. Really let him go.

"Hey. Listen. You don't have to tell me, okay?" Steve says gently, pushing himself off the wall to step closer to you. He brings his hand up to your face and tucks a loose lock of hair behind your ear, letting his fingertips linger on the edge of your jaw for the briefest of moments, just long enough for you to wonder whether he knows what he's doing to you.

You don't dare to move. You're afraid of breaking whatever spell has seemingly come over him.

"I should've never asked. That was selfish."

"Forget it," you say.

He's standing close now, close enough that you have to tilt your chin up to be able to look up at him properly. There's a strange kind of tension in his eyes, something dark and unsure and tentative, and his gaze darts down to your lips just the slightest bit.

You're fairly sure you're just seeing what you want to see, your foolish heart playing tricks on you. But you panic nonetheless, feeling a sudden, irrational fear that if he moves any closer, he'll realize the truth — that you're a liar and a coward, that you've been harboring these feelings of yours for him for years.

"I should—I should go. Back inside," you mutter, pointing vaguely at the door with your thumb. "In there."

"Sure, yeah. Okay. In there," he echoes, not making a single move to leave. "Not out here."

"Yup. Exactly. In there."

"So you said."

"Yep."

The wall of the diner is digging into your spine uncomfortably, and your mouth is dry, and your knees feel weak, and your stomach is doing somersaults, and the longer he stares at you with those eyes of his the more you feel like you're burning from the inside out and—

He's not moving. All he does is look at you, really look at you, as if it's the first time he's really looked, as if he's seeing something that wasn't there before.

"Okay, so—"

You try to push past him towards the door, but Steve grabs your arm, making you stop dead in your tracks. He lets go as soon as you look up at him, lifting his hand in front of him in an apologetic gesture.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," he says. He swallows hard and rubs his palm on the front of his jeans, a nervous little habit you think he's always had. He runs his hand through his hair, mussing up the carefully gelled strands, and it's probably the first time you've ever seen him look so flustered.

He laughs nervously and gestures at the ground with his hands as he speaks. "Look, this is just—this is just crazy, okay, but I think I, uh, maybe sort of realized something."

You blink at him, not quite certain you're hearing him correctly.

"Realized what?" you ask, the words barely more than a whisper.

Steve clears his throat and nods at you, seemingly pleased that you've finally spoken. "Yeah, well, this is stupid, but you know how you're always telling me to listen to my gut?"

"You're not making a whole lot of sense right now, Steve."

"Just bear with me for a sec, okay? This is like, totally new to me." He holds his palms up, and you notice his hands are shaking a little. "I just need a minute, alright?"

He breathes in deep and exhales slowly, then shoots you an apologetic look.

"Sorry, this is just...really weird," he confesses. "Weirdly real."

"You're freaking me out," you tell him, but Steve only smiles at you.

"Maybe I should just show you. Because, I mean, what if I'm wrong? That'd be terrible, obviously."

"Steve."

"Yeah, I know, but hear me out, okay?" he says quickly, and takes another step closer. You stand your ground this time, if only because you don't trust yourself to actually move without your legs giving out. "So, look. Here's the thing. You're, like—you're one of the most important people in my life. You've been there for me when nobody else was, and I...you mean a lot to me."

"Steve—"

"Shut up, you're ruining the moment."

He takes another step forward until he's crowding you against the wall, hand coming to rest next to your head on the brick. He's close, so close that you can smell the scent of his cologne and shampoo and laundry detergent, and if you were to lean in even the slightest bit, your faces would bump.

Steve is a little out of breath, his lips parted ever so slightly. And he's still looking at you with that strange, searching expression of his.

"Is this okay?" he whispers.

"I don't—what?"

Your voice catches in your throat. There's no room for doubt in his eyes now, not even the tiniest, slightest sliver of uncertainty left.

"This," Steve murmurs.

He tilts his head to the side a little and leans in until you're sure your noses are touching, and you feel your eyes slip closed in anticipation.

"Is this okay?" he repeats in a whisper. "Please tell me I'm not crazy."

"I think I am."

His lips brush yours. It feels like an accident, doesn't last long enough to be anything but a dream. You can still taste the faint, sweet trace of sugar and mint on your tongue when he pulls away, though.

"Just to be clear," Steve whispers, his fingers brushing lightly over the skin of your neck, tracing invisible lines that make you shiver, "am I the guy from earlier? The one you like?"

You don't have it in you to deny it anymore.

"Yes. It's you."

A wide grin breaks out across his face, and suddenly he's everywhere; he cups your face in his hands, pressing eager, fervent kisses along the line of your jaw, trailing hot and open-mouthed down the side of your neck.

You giggle helplessly, grabbing Steve by his collar to pull him away from you and up to your eye level. He's breathing just as heavily as you are, his hair messy and his eyes bright.

"How do you do this to me, huh?" he pants, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth. "You just—you just completely knock me out."

A pleasant little thrill rushes up your spine at that.

"Oh yeah?"

"Completely."

You kiss him this time.

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generalsmemories · 8 months

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To raise a child

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader ft. yanqing (platonic)

✧ based on the asks: 3 requests asking for a family fic with jing yuan and yanqing

✧ synopsis: raising a child is always hard, even when you're a long life species with a lot of experiences.

✧ contents: established relationship, fluff, found family trope (a.k.a my one weakness with every media), yanqing & reader have a slight rocky start, mentions of other characters, sentences in italics are readers thoughts.

✧ a/n: i'm not gonna chuck angst into a found family trope unless i feel particulary miserable, they just gonna have a good ole time being parents to a yanqing from when he was a wee babie to the lieutenant he is today - also a lot of this is my own interpretation SINCE I DON'T GET A CRUMB ON HOW THE HELL THIS MAN FOUND MY BABY. not beta-ed like usual i'm sorry.

The first time you were told about Yanqing's existence was when you were not onboard Luofu, which honestly made the first meeting between the two of you a lot worse.

"... Pardon, he found what now while I'm away?" you stare bewildreded at the messenger before you while clutching the letter Jing Yuan had written to you - you can practically hear his easy-going voice resound in your head through the words before you.

"What do you mean he suddenly picked up a whole child?!"

Safe to say that the Luofu were turned upside down by the time you came back to the ship. Rumours spread amongst the citizens, gossip between the storytellers and the newsboard retelling the latest news and constantly updating on any new "information" they had gotten.

To say you got stopped at every corner before you even stepped foot back in land was an understatement. You practically had a crowd waiting for you - it was only by the assistance of Yukong that you had managed to worm yourself out of the crowd and hightail home.

Maybe it's because Jing Yuan knew you would come home first, or maybe it's because he was aware that you had a lot of questions for him. Which was why you had gotten a text prior to landing with the single message of:

"Decided to take the day off today <3"

Safe to say he was left on read.

"Jing Yuan, what has gotten into you-" are the first words that leaves your mouth when you slam your entrance doors open, only for your eyes to widen when Jing Yuan is already waiting for you at the foyer. Hands behind his back and sporting his signature smile, but your gaze isn't at your lover before you.

Rather it was on the smaller child that was hiding behind his legs, he was by no means scared of your sudden appearance you noticed. Rather, he was sizing you up and down with a fierce gaze, almost like a lion cub who had just found its first prey.

The glare made your previous anger and confusion fade into a more surprised shock, rendering you speechless on how to proceed further. Jing Yuan steps in after seeing your anger dissipate upon seeing the fierce boy, raising a hand to ruffle Yanqing's hair before he directs his gaze back to you who is still staring at Yanqing in mild surprise.

"He's a feisty one isn't he?" is what he utters softly, and it's the slight exhaustion in his voice that causes you to let your guard down and put aside your confusion and need for answers aside.

Right now there's a young child before you, a child that you don't know the lineage of - but a child that Jing Yuan himself had picked up and stood his ground against public opinion for.

And Jing Yuan didn't do things without reason.

But you're well aware that he's also the kind to not tell you much as to why he had done a few decisions. As futile as you know it is, you would still try to get something out of him later. But for now, you would have to try to give a better impression of yourself to this kid who you're pretty sure sees you as anything, but a person with good intentions.

... What do you say to a child that is currently holding animosity towards you?

Seeing your distraught face makes Jing Yuan let out a chuckle, glancing down at Yanqing who is still staring fiercly at you, "They're not someone you should be on guard with. That's my spouse, they're just surprised by your sudden arrival is all, Yanqing."

So his name is Yanqing.

The reassurance from Jing Yuan makes the young boy relax a bit, but you can still tell he's very much on guard against you, "... I'm Yanqing," he mutters quietly.

The two of you seem to have a long way to go from the first encounter.

"... What were you thinking?" you question the moment Jing Yuan slides the door to your bedroom shut, you had spent the majority of the afternoon cleaning up a spare room for Yanqing to sleep in after the meeting while the two had headed out to prepare the paperwork for Yanqing to be offcially be recgonized as a Cloud Knight.

"... I saw potential?" he tries, but with one glance at your direction and being faced with your quirked eyebrow makes him let out a sigh instead, reaching a hand behind his head to pull the red ribbon tying his hair back.

He doesn't say anything as he makes his way over to you. Neither does he utter a word when he lets his entire weight fall on top of your own, the noise of surprise you let out making him chuckle, rubbing his face onto neck, "W-Wait, hold on. There's a literal child in this house now, what are you-"

"Dear, what are you thinking?" Jing Yuan snorts before you finish your sentence, wrapping his arms around your waist before flipping himself over so that you're laying on top of him, "Our schedule clashed together too much that it's been 2 years since I last saw you? And when I meet you again you looked like you were going to pull my head off of my own body, this is quite frankly the first instance where I get you all to myself," he explains, raising an eyebrow at your gradually reddening face, "Whatever you were imagining is beyond me, darling."

"... Shut up and tell me the truth already," you murmur before burying your face in his chest, lifting a closed fist to lightly hit his arm when you feel his chest rumble with his constrained laughter.

"I didn't lie when I said I saw potential. Despite his young age, Yanqing is quite gifted with the sword," he starts after a brief silence, fingers drumming along the spine of your back, "But it would be more accurate to say I'm preparing the future generation?" he muses out loud, sounding unsure himself which makes let out a chuckle, "Wow, I'm sure lady Fu Xuan would be delighted by the news of your possible retirement."

"I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint our Master Diviner for another few decades unfortunately. She's still far too young to take up the mantle of the general."

You hum, raising your head up from his chest to make eye contact, Jing Yuan directing his gaze from staring up at the ceiling to instead stare at you as well, "Next time you're thinking of picking up a kid, give me a heads up? Or else you're going to end up on the news again like today with the headlines of you committing infidelity."

He laughs, hoisting you further up his body to peck your lips, "Please, I won't be picking up another child anytime soon. But maybe I need to show the citizens that I only have eyes for one person if they were swayed this easily by the apperance of one child."

"... Please don't say something that embarassing in front of Yanqing."

"See, you're already being a great parental figure."

Great parental figure my ass.

Is what's currently running through your mind as you're once again, left alone with Jing Yuan's prodigal apprentince. it's been a few months after Yanqing's first arrival, and the relationship between the two of you seem to still be threading on thin ice.

Your relationship with the young prodigy hasn't gotten worse, but it has in no way improved either. Whenever Jing Yuan is not present amongst the three of you, Yanqing becomes extra reserved and takes extra caution to not bother you - which makes any attempt to even talk to him 10 times harder than it has to be.

Yanqing is out in the garden, brushing the fallen leaves into a neat pile while you're sitting by the living room table doing paperwork. And yet, ever since Jing Yuan had stepped out for some urgent business, the two of you haven't even spoken a single word to each other.

Yanqing was at an age where you didn't need to give him constant attention, but with the way you two had started on the wrong foot it felt a lot harder trying to get closer to him - mostly because the boy himself tries to not be a burden on you, which in a way has become a burden.

Not to mention, Jing Yuan spends the most time with him training him personally - so the time you spend with Yanqing is close to nothing compared to your lover.

The odds are truly against you at the moment.

At this point, the new paper scroll that you had rolled out were becoming useless with how long you had pressed the ink filled brush on it's surface, the gradual circle of ink stained paper growing with each passing minute.

Topics you can talk about.. Jing Yuan mentioned he was great with a sword, but it's been ages since I've held a sword myself till the point he's probably better than me...

Were you always this awkward with children?

Glancing at the clock, you notice it's almost time for your meetup with master Gongshu over at the Artisanship Commission. So with a reluctant sigh, you glance down at the paper scroll before you - that has long been ruined before you put the brush away and roll the scroll back up.

"... Yanqing I'm about to head to out to the Artisanship Commission, can you..." your voice dies down when you see the boy whip his head around the moment you mention the Commission. And although he tries to hide it, you would be a fool to not notice the sparkle in his eyes at the mention of where you are going.

"... Do you want to join?" you end up asking instead.

You've never seen his facial expression change so much in just a few seconds. First you could tell he wanted to agree, but then you're pretty sure he managed to figure out why you were going and didn't want to be a burden, but still wanted to go. You soon saw hope come back to his eyes, presumably remembering that you personally asked, but you saw the same hope dwindle down when he probably thought that you asked just to include him.

The sight made you laugh, "... A child is a child after all, no matter where they are," you whisper quietly to yourself, "You won't be a bother, Yanqing. And wouldn't it be better for you to look around the Luofu a bit? I'm pretty sure Jing Yuan has only brought you to the Cloud Knights training area after all, we can even stop by Cloudbreath Sleeves to take your measurements so that you can get some tailor-made clothes and not Jing Yuan's old clothes."

That seemed to be the only reassurance he needed.

You're pretty sure Yanqing hasn't noticed that your meeting with master Gongshu ended 15 minutes ago. Neither has he seemed to realize that the two of you have spent the next 15 minutes just observing his every reaction to the swords on display.

His eyes seemed particulary glued to an iridescent blue sword with a black handle, master Gongzhu giving a low whistle beside you, "He's got a good eye."

You roll your eyes, "Send me the invoice later," you reply back before stepping towards the awestruck boy, "Why not bring it home with us?" you ask, Yanqing jumping slightly in surprise, his head turning around with widened eyes, "I can't possibly ask that of you, I can just save up-"

"You're staring at it like it's your first love, Yanqing," you chuckle, reaching out to grab the handle, twirling it around before reaching for the scabbard right underneath where it was displayed - sliding the sword inside.

"Consider it a gift, for future endeavours."

He blinks, taking the scabbard from your hands, staring at the intricate design weaved into the metal - and you notice the faint tears forming at the corners of his eyes before the boy leaps into your arms to give you a hug, "I swear I'll treasure it, thank you!"

Perhaps too shocked by the sudden hug, you fail to realize that master Gongshu had quickly snapped a picture of the scene and sending it to a certain general.

Qingzu had to stop the very same general from storming away from the Divine of Foresight to head to the Artisanship Commission the very next minute.

"... Well the two of you seem to have gotten a lot closer these past few months," Jing Yuan comments the moment he noticed the position you were currently in. You merely glared halfheartedly at him, but Jing Yuan made no effort to help you - instead walking over to bend down to peck your forehead, careful to not wake the child asleep on top of you.

"I told him to head home before me since I still had affairs to tend to, didn't think he would immediately collapse on top of you and doze off," Jing Yuan remarks with a laugh.

You had one hand supporting Yanqing weight on top of you so that he doesn't topple over, so you decide to use your other hand to reach over and flick Jing Yuan on the forhead - a flick he moved away from with a smirk, "He just dozed off mid-talk too. He was talking about your recent spar match before he just fell asleep," you say, "And to think he vehemently denied not needing a nap after a training session because he's not a child."

Jing Yuan lets out another laugh at that, effortlessly wrangling Yanqing away from your hold and hoisting him up in his arms without manaing to wake him up, "Well if you treat him like an adult, he'll show the temperament of a child as well."

"You should try to get some rest as well, dear. We can just order something from Aurum Alley later," Jing Yuan suggests, to which you merely nod to, standing up to stretch your limbs, "Join me then, I'm sure our dozing general is quite tired too."

"My, what an alluring offer. Can I assume that there's something more-"

"Don't push your luck."

here's the 3 requests that wanted a family fic - i actually struggled a bit with how to do this, but alas - i just know future me will conjure something up again so have this as a teaser HAHA

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail imagines #hsr x reader #hsr x you #star rail x reader #star rail imagines #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #x reader #reader insert

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hwaitham · 2 months

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𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓪 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝔀𝓷 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 ⋆ ࣪˖ 𓂃𓋜

al haitham x f!reader . sfw — hurt ﾉ comfort . established relationship . rewrite from an old blog ﾉ insecure reader ﾉ he calls u ‘ habibti ‘ + ‘ baby ‘ + ‘ sweetheart ‘ ﾉ non - sexual nudity ( ie. u bathe together ) ﾉ reader is heavily insp by me n' this is a piece i wrote to comfort myself over anything soo .. Ya ૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა pwz b kind with ur comments thanku!!!! ꒱ྀི 3.9k wc

“i’m always clinging onto you… and i depend on you quite a bit… don't you find it to be bothersome?” (i’m sorry if my love for you feels harrowing, unbearable, suffocating; i’m sorry the only way i know how to love is like a child.)

all it takes you is one little step past the front door, and al haitham immediately realises you’re unhappy.

it's hard not to, when it comes as large as a raincloud hanging over the house.

first, a drizzle with the drag of your feet; steps that are normally light and fawn-like and struggling to catch up with his own long strides, a wee bit skittish and much more adorably clumsy than you’d care to admit, are now sluggish. devoid of their usual urgency and purpose.

then, a deluge, as he hears you heave a sigh from beyond his tome. you’re burdened by something, he notices, as you scuff along the hardwood floor, let your book bag—and subsequently your heart—tumble to the ground.

“welcome home.” al haitham rises from the daybed, coming to meet you in the foyer. “how… was work?”

something in his tone, the pause in his question and the uncharacteristic apprehension of it makes your heart wither and crumble. quick as ever is he with his eyes—most especially when it comes to you.

how you so wish in this moment that weren’t the case.

“fine!” your reply is light, “just, i’m a bit tired… is it okay if we eat leftovers from last night for dinner? i’m really sorry…” when you smile up at him, it doesn’t meet your eyes, nor too do your eyes meet his own.

lies—you’ve never been all that successful at convincing him of them, due in part to the guilt that you can’t keep hidden from your countenance, as well as the callowness of your voice that seems to render any falsity you utter ring with an air of untruth.

“it’s nothing to apologise for.” he says slowly, standing before you as he awaits the hug you always give him when you arrive home from work, the press of your ear over his heart. you up on the tips of your toes as you ask him for a kiss and to cut up a peach so you might feed them to each other as you sit on the sill facing village hills.

you do none of these, and al haitham wonders why.

walking past you, he ruffles your hair, softly scritches at your scalp. “go wash up; i’ll set the table.”

you want to speak, say thank you, but you can find no words. a deep melancholy breaks over you like a hurricane. it terrifies you. but still you lift your head, look past his ear as you smile again to hide all the woe-rapture that festers within.

and this is all it takes for al haitham to resolve that he will do something about it.

the tahchin is bitter on your tongue today.

grains of rice pebbly between your teeth, chicken tasting far too much of chicken and not the blend of spices it had been marinated in. it’s near unpalatable.

and just as it is unpalatable, it is a most arduous task to even lift your fork. the weight of your melancholy is clamped to your wrist and your jaw—it makes eating all the more difficult than it need be, and a knot at the back of your throat that feeds the taste of bile into your mouth only serves to darken the shadow that your malaise casts over dinner.

how is it: your favourite dish losing its ability to console, its only purpose to be a vessel for sustenance. yet, even at that, what sustenance does it provide you with when each bite makes you feel as though you might hurl?

“you’re not eating.” al haitham observes sharply, glancing at you out the corner of his eye. it’s a serious shortcoming in his mind, obviously, for someone who does so dearly enjoy her meals.

you shrug despondently and sigh, “suppose i’m just not hungry.”

as much as he may want to, al haitham doesn’t push further—his hand hovering over a button before deciding to leave it untouched in fear of what may come. and you’re grateful, that he doesn’t ask you what the matter is, and simply hums in acknowledgement before returning to his food.

(his silence casts a harsh stroke upon your heart.)

you’re grateful, truly, you are.

(you hear his voice in your head—‘are you alright, habibti?’, and quickly, you seize a grasp of your heart to stop the bleeding that threatens to reach your eyes.)

now you’ve gone and worsened the spoil of your appetite.

resting your fork on the worn wood table, you sigh yet again—this time around a soft wispy thing that does little to soothe the ache of your lungs, and turn your head to regard his profile.

the relaxed ridge of his brows and the handsome slope of his nose, lidded teal eyes that are always analysing, never idling; he is just as a diamond is. all sharp edges that glimmer and glint, not only in body but also in mind.

al haitham is beautiful by way of his nurturing and guiding in a seemingly unorthodox manner. generous with his intentions no matter how hard he may try to prove otherwise, clever and witty and always five steps ahead and so incredibly attractive in his self-assurance—oh, he is just perfect—as is the ground he walks upon and the air that floats over his head and each word that touches his lips.

what is he like… winter fields blanketed by the sun and the tips of flower petals after a deluge, bubbles in wine, diamonds, diamonds, all diamonds. he is a brilliant blue diamond in your night sky.

and you, what are you like?

puerile at heart and loud with your love. a wee bit foolish and entirely silly, always fumbling and mumbling and messing up in spite of trying your best.

if al haitham is as a diamond is, then perhaps you would best be suited to a pearl—with those little dewy globes resting on your lashes more often than not, a heart smooth to the touch and all the more fragile.

which, yes, does sound rather precious when worded in such a way, but you can’t help but wonder, if for al haitham you are too much.

whether your whimsies are too fantastical, and your brain is too often in the clouds and not in your head where it belongs. or whether the apple-sweet naivety that offers your heart up to anyone who shows you even a modicum of kindness, be it honest or corrupt, is too much of an annoyance to look after. you worry whether your love is too strong for someone like him who has grown so comfortable in his own company, like fire scorching his blood or the waves of the sea crashing along a cliff or the sticky residue of honey on fingertips that just won’t wash off.

these woes slather uncertainty over your spine, and before you can think, you’re already reaching over to clutch at al haitham’s sleeve.

it’s an effort to command his attention, silently, for if you call him by his name instead, you fear the tears may fly out your eyes and the pathetic hiccups out your throat and you’d weep until the end of eternity. that’s how it feels, anyway.

“yes, habibti?” al haitham wipes the corner of his lip with his thumb and lays down his fork just as you’ve done yours. he waits for your voice to fill the heavy air of the dining room, but when he notices the nervous nibble of your lip and the twiddles of your thumb, he sighs, pulls you in closer by the leg of your chair. “you know, you shouldn’t be afraid to tell me if anything’s troubling you. i’ll do my best to help however i can.”

his hand swallows your fist in a comforting embrace, plucking your fingers free one by one so that he can thread his between yours. it’s a challenge to not look his way when he behaves so darling, and in his eyes you see a certain pleading softness swimming round the edges of his pupils.

it’d be hard to notice to an untrained eye, what with his acts of romance mostly always lacking the entirety of pomp and blare in the world, but you can tell—of course you can.

it holds you spellbound, compels you to give in, and so, you reach your trembling hands past your ribs and take hold of your burgeoning heart, pay little heed to the rose thorns that scrape and scar it as you tug it free of its cavity. placing the lame organ in front of al haitham, you wince at all its clotted ugliness and self-serving insecurity.

“that’s exactly it… i cause a lot of trouble for you, don’t i.”

(am i too much? am i too overbearing?)

“i’m always clinging onto you… and i depend on you quite a bit… don’t you find it to be bothersome?”

(i’m sorry if my love for you feels harrowing, unbearable, suffocating; i’m sorry the only way i know how to love is like a child.)

“it’s just—” there’s a fracture in your voice and then a whimper that follows.

you’re quick to avert your gaze from him and down to the worn wood table, at your grubby plate of food. the words, recited in your head over and over slip away from your tongue and leave it laid with only scribbled thoughts; they float up—up—up… and then your eyes squeeze shut and your fingertips press anxiously into the space between his knuckles and your shoulders shirk in on themselves.

as many a time have you weeped before him—over the loveliness of a perfectly sunny day or a particularly sweet and excellent bite into a zaytun peach, over all things nonsensical and silly and things that one ought not to be weeping at. but in this moment, you feel obliged to hide your tears from him.

you’d rather he didn’t see you cry, at least, not over something like this.

not over yourself.

“it’s just, i can’t help but feel as though you’d fare better off with someone more like you—someone more sound in mind and less chaotic at heart, perhaps. i dunno…” you pick idly at your food, the tooth of your fork accidentally sending a grain of rice flying to the floor under the pressure of its touch. how unfortunate. “i don’t know…”

(i wish i were more like you. maybe then i’d feel like less of a liability at your side.)

in all your days of loving al haitham, you’ve only presented your heart to him as a dog would to its human, but today you’re atoning. it’s near sacrificial—your laments and apologies for being too much, too little, not enough, whatever.

your heart waits anxiously before him: sliced down the precise centre, carmine, bleeding, beating.

and for the first time since you’ve come bounding into al haitham’s life, his house is silent, though, this silence seems to dislike being broken as he mulls yours words over—save for the sad hymns sung by the wind and the gauche scritches and scratches of your fork atop ceramic.

the tears begin to brim and froth behind your lash-line, like milk on the stove that boils and isn’t being kept a watchful eye over. yet, even as your vision begins to blur, you know al haitham is glancing your way.

he takes your heart into his mouth and cradles it gently within his maw.

“is this what’s been on your mind? silly girl.”

your lover leans into your personal space and flicks your forehead gently, coaxing your gaze from your lap to his face.

“your heart is rather big.”

(you make it easy to adore you. and i like that. it saves me so much trouble making myself adore someone.)

“you both love and loathe it in equal parts.”

(you will always be so free and blithe, as you will always be naive and afraid. such is the eternal nature of your heart—it will coddle and weather in its fragility until its last days. won’t you trust it to me to make sure of? to care for?)

“yes—you cry too often, and you forgive too easily, and you worry too much about those who aren’t deserving of your care, and you feel guilt too strongly over things you have no control over.”

(you are so precious, so pure, so full of infinite compassion for the world.)

“it’s easy for one’s heart to be trampled over if it’s held in their palms, for the world to see. just as you hold out your’s.”

(to me, your beauty lies heaviest within your fawn heart.)

al haitham’s words are veined with ice, and your lips freeze in their subtle pout—one that wobbles on the edge of a dejected frown, “it’s not like i mean for it to—”

“but don’t you realise that’s why i’m here? why i’ll continue to be here? to catch your heart before it has a chance to get trampled over, and to tend to it when it does?” the ice crackles through his words and they all break up, as if it were spring again. “don’t you realise this is what i admire most about you?”

(i love you.)

for a moment, your heart flutters queerly. the veil shrouding your thoughts lifts and you’re left to be shaken and pierced by al haitham’s tender tone.

“it sounds as though you wish you were more like me…” your lover takes the fork from your hand and raises with his fingers your chin, so that you may properly meet his eyes for the first time this evening. “but when we love someone, we love them entirely for themselves, not whatever thing we’ve twisted them into to fit our own image. if that were the case—we’d only be loving the reflection of ourselves we find in them. is this not what you once told me, sweetheart?”

(i love you, in all your adorably jejune whimsies and nonsensical musings and humble tidings. i love the darling tears that cling to the round of your cheek and your great excitability and childish curiosity—all things i lack. and of all things i love your mad, devout love; so… please, please continue to love me as you do without fear of abandonment.)

perhaps, after all, it is okay that you are nothing like him and he is nothing like you. that you are diametric antitheses, like earth and air or diamond and pearl. your eyes falter under his gaze, body rigid in his arms as he manoeuvres you into his lap and presses his palms to your hot cheeks.

“please, i…” you weaken and he smiles and then you tremble and soften and melt and the tears finally bubble onto your face just as a white rose slips past its sheath.

like a baby, you sob—free of guilt and shame, it’s the only thing you know how to do when you’ve already spoken the words in your mind.

you press a palm to his chest, fingers splayed out over his heart, head tilted down and hair hiding yourself from him. though, he can still see; and you know he can, even if all that’s in your periphery are clouds and fuzz, wobbly pearls of dew that dribble down your face. he doesn’t ask you to look at him—he already knows why you weep. from catharsis or love or joy or heartache or gratitude… all of them at once or perhaps none of them at all.

“i-i’m really sorry for r-ruining dinner!” your voice is stuffy with sniffles and you hiccup in between your words, eyes squeezed shut awfully tight so that your nose crinkles. how sweet.

there you are again, little flower. al haitham spares you a smile that twists your heart as he leans in to brush his lips against yours, exchanging breaths. i’ve missed you. “you didn’t ruin anything. now—” with one hand, he holds you by the dip of your waist to press you to his chest and uses the other to gather a bite of tahchin on his fork, “you need to eat.”

at the hands of your lover, the tahchin is savoury and full of life on your tongue, nowhere near as nauseating and boorish as earlier. “isn’t it fascinating, haitham?” you part your lips to take another bite and hum softly as the spices flush you with warmth. “how the tahchin tastes so much more delicious now that you’re feeding it to me?”

he watches on in awe as you chew on your food, tiny little hiccups from tears unshed that occasionally rack your chest and fluster you, the ones that have dried coming off your face as gossamer flakes. they’re angel tears, he’s certain of that much.

“you have the cutest cheeks, you know…” your lover takes the fat of your cheeks between his thumb and index finger as you eat, gently squeezing and marvelling at the suppleness of your powdery skin. “baby's just like a bunny.”

“stop teasing…” you grasp his wrist gently, swallowing your food and sucking in your cheek to bite down on it bashfully, look the opposite way of prying eyes. they’re lidded and lazy and there’s a smile that lifts them up at the edges—his eyes, you see—but also his heart. because you just make him feel like that: organs and limbs loose and relaxed and thumping with his calm pulse, vision framed by a glowy pink haze as though he were laying on marble under the sun by the sea. everything sweet and wonderful in the world.

“even after all the moments we’ve shared…” he smirks and pinches your bottom lip, bringing you in close. “you’re still just as shy as though it were our first.”

you can't help but burst into a lovely little peal of giggles as he kisses you and pampers you, your tippy toes dusting the floor playfully and your fingertips curling strands of his hair. your cheeks are stuffed with warm food and your eyes burn with the crystalline that brims at your lower lashes when you swallow thickly, so you push back the tremble to your voice and bury it under his love stored in bite after bite of tahchin.

and even after your plate has been emptied and love is about to burst past the seams of your heart and your tummy, and you lay half-asleep atop him in a growing pool of moonlight—even after much of your aches and pains have been put to rest, al haitham still has yet to be completely satisfied, awaiting to be placated by one final thing.

“come, you must be tired,” he ties your hair for you, takes you by your hand, offers to wash the lingering fogs out of your soul. “should we bathe together before we sleep?”

al haitham’s touch is soft as he strips you of your clothing, kisses downwards of your clavicle after he removes your necklace—your wrist, your rib, your belly, your thigh. he knows just how you like your baths: window propped wide open to waft in the fragrance from blossoming peach trees and the sweet lulls of nightly birdsong, padisarah petals coasting across the water.

he prepares the room for you as such, swathing your frame between his long, broad limbs in the tub, too tiny for two, mind you. yet, he finds it to be a simple task to ignore the annoyance of the ledge digging into his spine when your body curls up against him like this, cheek pillowed by the plush of his chest and your arms draped ‘round his waist.

“you like holding me close, sweetheart?”

it’s a fun little poke at just how tight you cling to him, but truthfully, al haitham is all the same. a hand on the small of your back or warm fingers massaging your chilly nape—he finds the utmost comfort in feeling your skin on his, familiarity in the clouds of chantilly cream and sumeru rose that seem to linger about in the air around you.

perhaps he is just as clingy as you are, in how he cuddles you close to his chest and takes a book from the stool next to the bathtub, preparing to read to you from it.

and you listen intently—no matter how hard the throes of sleep try to whisk you away—to the flip of parchment, the birds keeping you company at the sill, the handsome cadence to your lover’s voice that makes your cheeks feel all bubbly, the beat of his heart dovetailing yours through your back.

he reads to you until the moon casts her light over the water through the window and your fingers are pruned—short fairytales about butterflies dancing on honey cups, maidens falling in love with talking roses—all from a certain emerald-covered book handed down to him from the only person to show him the same tender care you do.

the tension is dispelled from your shoulders, the barely there coil of anguish around you fully snapping and resolving into something lighter, entirely less murky. and as you sit there in his embrace, you feel your nose twitch and the backs of your eyes sting.

again! again, you cry! how lame you are in love, indeed, silly girl.

because al haitham is romantic in the way he silently cares for you like this, looks at you as though you’re extraordinarily lovely, the greatest bit of knowledge he’d ever be able to wrap his head around; touches you as if you were the most delicate of flowers.

which, you are, because how can you not blossom under his affection and grow a little love-struck?

“h-haitham?”

the words halt in his throat and he looks down at your face, or as much of it as he can make out when you’ve near buried it entirely into his neck. humming sweetly, he coaxes you on with lithe fingers slipping beneath the water’s surface to rub shapes into your doughy hip. “yes?”

“i love you…” you pick mindlessly at the emerald on his chest, let the words flow freely from the blubbering mess that has become of your voice— “i really love you, a whole lot.”—look up at him and smile toothily, plainly, eyes all watery and full of hope, promise, just like the child in you. “you love me a whole lot, too, don’t you?”

and what can he do but mirror your smile. because from it a picture of reassurance has been born, flooding and twisting and seizing his entire being. sometimes, most times, he doesn’t know how to behave when this thing, this wild love so eagerly breaks his body and pours without end into the hollow of his heart.

but it is a nice feeling, a sweet feeling: when you look at him like this and he thinks, perhaps, he could learn to love as freely as this too. all he has to do is look. it won’t be hard.

after all, everything he sees holds your darling smile within it.

tusm for reading!!! i hope this was able to bring some comfort for those who also have little fawn hearts .. and worry about their love being too all-consuming . im actually rllie embarrassed n nervous to be posting this fic bcos it means an awful lot to mi ૮꒰ྀི◞⸝⸝⸝⸝◟꒱ྀིა that being said , if you hav any comments to share please make sure they are only kind .. thanku ♡

#𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓯𝓸𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓻 ⑅˚˖ ݁ ˓ ෆ #alhaitham x reader #genshin x reader #al haitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #genshin drabbles #genshin imagines #alhaitham comfort #genshin comfort #haitham ❤︎

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sleeping-sirens · 1 year

Text

morning with haechan *ੈ✩‧₊˚

🌻✨🌙🌿☁

pairing : idol haechan x f reader.

genre : tooth rutting fluff, domestic, established relationship.

summary : to be very straightforward, this was inspired by his ig live in hongkong.

word count : 1648 words.

warnings : reader has period cramps, make-out session, suggestive.

a/n : i wrote this mainly for myself 😔 i love haechan so much 😭

masterlist

buy me a coffee 🥹🫶🏼

if there is a way you could translate the perfect morning, it’d be the way haechan always wraps his arms securely around your body, holding you close to him. it would translate into the way he nuzzles his cute nose into the deepest crook of your neck and breathe in your scent calmly before he opens his eyes. it would be the way he hums softly as his hair tickles your nape and his eyes would notice the goosebumps that would prickle your skin.

but this time, your perfect morning doesn’t seem so perfect anymore when you wake up with atrocious cramps eating out at your lower belly. you can’t open your eyes as you try to control your breathing, your frail fingers catching on haechan’s to ease the pain, or barely try to as it gets stronger.

you curse inside your head and prepare yourself mentally for the hell of a week that’s ahead of you. before an accident would occur, you gently peel yourself away from haechan’s strong grip and hurry to the bathroom. with a deep sigh, you quickly put on a pad and go back to the warmth of the bed.

haechan’s eyes are still closed as he senses you back beside him and without wasting a second, he fumbles around the sheets to wrap his arms around you again, squeezing you into a hug and stretching his body at the same time. you instantly snuggle into his neck before guiding your lips to the mole sitting just below his neck and kissing it gently.

“good morning,” he softly whispers, voice gruff and still dripping with sleep. his morning voice never ceasing to give you butterflies deep inside your tummy.

you hum in response when his fingers start dancing around your lower back, gently massaging your achy muscles. you feel comfortable beside him and your body always seems to feel lighter whenever he’s cuddling into you.

“do you have practice this morning?” you ask with your eyes closed. haechan smiles down at you, a hand still massaging your back while the other slithers inside your hair. his fingers deliver the most tender touches around your ear, the gestures helping you relax even more and melt into him like a burning candle.

you secretly wish he’d have a late start of the day today, just so you can stay glued to him all morning.

“do you want me to stay longer with you?” haechan smiles, his eyes squeezing shut in the process.

your response is just you snuggling closer to his body, your legs wrapping around his.

“hm, clingy girl?” he chuckles as he ruffles your hair, waiting for a verbal answer this time.

you deeply breathe his scent that’s drifting to your nose with every movement of his body. placing another gentle kiss to his neck, you hum. “yes, i want you to stay longer. don’t want you to leave me just yet.”

“okay baby, anything for you,” his thumb dances on your face, the pad kneading around your forehead, temple and the space between your ear and cheek.

“you’re gonna cancel practice?” you pop your eyes open, lifting your face to come closer to his.

“you know i can’t do that, baby,” he pouts, kissing the bridge of your nose before kissing your lips. “but it won’t hurt if i go a bit late.”

you can’t hide your disappointment but you also can’t be greedy while dating an idol. you try to wipe the pout off your face and end up smiling up at him. a stubble has started to from on his chin, giving him a vary sexy look and his lips are beautifully puffy and so kissable, hypnotizing you into pushing your arm up from the sheets and placing your fingers on his pillow-like lips. on instinct, he pressed the tip of his tongue on the corner of his mouth before biting his lower lip and giggling at your sweet actions.

with the pad of his finger still caressing your cheek and yours running through his lower lip, you couldn’t believe that this is true. how he’s here by your side and he loves you way too much for his his own good. and you…your whole existence now has meaning with his name written all over the corners of your body and mind, with touches and kisses and words and hugs imprinted on the map of your skin that he knows oh so well.

you’re not afraid of being an open book to him because he’s so gentle and generous with you. he knows you so well and you don’t mind it one bit. and the same goes for him. he’s never afraid to be vulnerable with you and to unveil his deepest thoughts and feelings because he knows that you’d always have his back, and would love him the way he deserves.

“i’m so in love with you, i can physically feel it.” you confess, taking haechan by surprise.

“yeah?” he whispers, the corners of his lips stretching into a wide smile. with his thumb traveling down to caress your lips, his face gets closer to yours before he places the tenderest, most gently powerful kiss on your lips. your heart skips two beats at a time as he seems to take you into a place far from reality with only his lips dancing around yours.

his soft lips push into yours and mold together to create the perfect pace. your fingers grip his waist, legs pulling him closer into you as if it’s possible to merge into one. your body exudes warmth that can burn his bones down to ashes down your feet, but you would bring him to life over and over again with just one pinch of your fingers. haechan’s heart drums crazily over the curves of his ribcage as his fingers take their usual path to lodge into the swell of your hips, and going down to strongly grip on your butt.

the smallest yet most sinful whine escapes the back of your throat as you arch your back into him, your chest pressing into his, nipples hotly poking his naked chest and igniting a speedy rush of blood to pump angrily down his bundle of nerves. haechan’s breathing quickens and he latches on your lips as if it’s his last mission.

he makes you feel good with everything he does, from his passionate kisses to his sensual touches, he’s got your small heart full of him. and with one last bite on your lower lip, he gently pulls away with it still between his teeth, before it bounces back to its place, a visible thread of saliva stretching between your mouths.

“can you feel it now?” he breathes, hard on top of you. “how much i love you?”

your hazy eyes gaze at each other as if you guys were up in the clouds, your chests rise and fall through a crazy rhythm with fingers still gripping into each other because you can’t get enough.

“more.” you whisper.

“more?” haechan chuckles, pecking your lips softly. “more what, baby?” he tilts his head to the side, his childish side quickly making an appearance after he has just managed to swipe you off your feet, not quite literally since you guys were laying down on the bed.

“i can feel it more now,” you guide his hand to place it on top of your trembling heart, and he smiles proudly at that. “and i always want more of you, haechan. always, always, always.”

“i’m always yours baby, and you can take whatever you want from me, i’m all yours.” his arms wrap around you, giving you the warmest hug before softly pulling away.

“i’ll be back in a sec.” he quickly retreats from your embrace before getting back to bed with a tissue in his hand. you look at him confused before he starts wiping the droplets of sweat that have gathered on top of your cupid’s bow and all around your neck.

your heart swells at his actions and you can’t help the smile from reaching your lips as you notice the pout forming on his mouth from concentrating on wiping your sweat away from your skin.

“are you having bad cramps?” haechan asks, worrisome visible on his face. “you’re sweating so much…” he trails off, voice softening towards the end.

“yes,” you answer, only now realizing the state you’re in. “but you made me forget about them,” you smile tenderly at him.

“i love you so much,” he wraps both his hands around your face, before kissing your forehead. “my strong girl. let me go grab some painkillers for you, hm?” he kisses your forehead again.

you nod your head at him with a smile on your face. you see his silhouette disappear behind the door of the bedroom before you turn to lie on your back. the butterflies inside your tummy getting wilder by the second, with every kind touch and word coming from haechan, you seem to only drown in his love even deeper, especially when he knows what’s wrong with you without you saying anything to him.

you deeply inhale from your nose, when you see him enter the room again, a cup of water and painkillers in hand.

“here,” he helps you sit up, pulling your body up with a hand gently placed on the back of your neck. he then grabs the cup of water and guides it to your lips, smiling at you until you take a sip. “there you go.”

“thank you.”

“anything for my baby,” he smiles before turning his attention to the window behind you. “it seems like it’s gonna rain this morning, how about we put on a movie of your choice?”

“sounds like a perfect morning then.”

and with that, period cramps are long forgotten, and your perfect morning is back again.

back and better.

a/n : this was supposed to be a small haechan drabble…i got carried away SO MUCH!! but blame haechan, don’t blame me 😔 i hope you enjoyed what i wrote, please reblog if you did🫶🏼 my heart is still beating so fast!!🤭

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yourstruly-caycay · 11 days

Text

A "Loving" Husband

Yan! Poseidon x reader

Woo! My first time writing a yandere version of a character, and for the first time in forever I post something ehe.

Warning: yandere behaviour incoming

Synopsis: Poseidon never have any intention to tell Atlas, his son, about the inside of the golden door under the deep sea within the darkness. But, out of impatient and curiosity, Atlas bound to uncover the secret.

....................

The curious little boy finds himself in front of a huge golden door, a shiny one as it shines by the glimpse of the moon. He checks his surroundings once more to make sure he doesn't hear any doorstep near him as the window shows a scenery of the darkness of the sea. He sighs in relief as he's ready to find the answer that his dad has been avoiding to answer, “If this door is in this deep underground, what could dad possibly hide?”

He tries to push the door, he keeps pushing to the point his face and hand turns red. “I can open it!” He courage himself as it finally opened a little bit, small enough to fit his size.

“Ha! Dad must be proud if he knows that I can open a door this heavy.” He pat his back proudly as he goes through the door. The inside of the room is exactly as he questions it, a room full of old neat treasures and artifacts on the shelves. Out of all the treasure he saw, he spotted something bigger. A beautiful and shiny marble statue of a life-sized woman sitting on a couch with a lot of jewelry on her and white silk dress, but he notices that the clothes at the waist part are ruffled, as if that part has always been touched.

"Hmm, why does the ring seem familiar?" To get a better sight, he climbed to her thigh and sat on her. Observing the ring closer, he remembered the very same pair of rings in his dad's finger.

“But why is it on the statue? I thought mom was supposed to wear this? Perhaps I should try to give it back to her.” Carefully, his eyes focus on taking off the ring from the finger without realizing that his feets slip from the statue's silk dress as he’s hanging by the ring finger.

Unfortunately, the ring finger cracks as his head knocks onto the floor. He rubbed on his injured head, displeased seeing the gold blood on his hand from the injured head. However, the feeling of pain is replaced by panic as he closes his mouth when he sees the ring finger shatter from the statue. In a speed, he grabs the statue's ring finger and sprints all the way to his room.

…

By the next morning-

"WHY DO YOU NEED TO BE ANGRY JUST FOR A MISSING PART OF A STATUE?"

The boy jolted up from the sudden loud voice outside his room, he immediately opened the door. His heart beats fast and eyes go wide seeing his father and mother arguing in the hallway with Hades and some staff hidden in the corner or running away because they’re too scared at the sight of Poseidon.

"WHY? I'VE WARNED EVERYONE IN THIS CASTLE NOT TO ENTER THAT ROOM EXCEPT FOR ME, BUT A HIDDEN INSECT SEEMS TO HAVE BROKEN INTO THAT ROOM! I’LL FIND THE FOOL AND SHRED THEIR HANDS."

"BUT THAT DOESN'T EXCUSE YOUR SUDDEN OUTRAGE LIKE A MAD MAN."

“You insolent women-” Before Poseidon’s trident even near Amphitrite, Hades held his wrist and said in a stern voice. “Poseidon, calm down,” His eyes now turn to glare at him, but Hades still has the stoic face and staring back at him, “It’s just a statue, I don't know what's so special about that. But, if you’re still determine to punish the culprit, do it, but don’t throw the blame to the wrong person.”

And so, he put his trident down, his breath steadier and turned back to his usual stoic face, yet eyes still glare at his brother, “Just a statue? That statue is a prize possession of mine, worthy of my time to care for it.”

Hades can only sigh and shake his head in disappointment, meanwhile Amphitrite opens her mouth to say something while holding in the trembling voice with knees getting weak pressing down her fear as she stares back at him. The trident might not pierce her at all, but the sharp wind from the trident is enough to cause a scratch of gold blood to flow from her face.

"You've got to be kidding me, Poseidon, everyone already fucking know that you're protective of that precious little statue of yours. I don’t know what’s so special about it, it might be more special than me, but have you even spared a little heart for your poor wife whom you married by your own choice? Why do you marry me if you never treat me like a wife?"

"Amphitrite," Poseidon said coldly, "Since when gods married for love? Just do your own job as a queen."

Poseidon is finally out of sight as Amphitrite clenches her fist, glaring at her husband's back. "Tch, what did the statue do to make you this crazy?" she mumbles.

"Amphitrite, I do apologize for his manners." Hades pats her shoulder as he sees her in a trembling state, she gazes at him with tears spilling from her eyes.

"There's no need to apologize," she wipes her tears, "It’s his fault… no, it's my fault. How stupid and naive I am to agree to marrying him in the first place. I thought that maybe… if I become a good wife; a good mother, then maybe he can at least show an ounce of love to me like any lover does… what did I do to deserve this?"

"Don't say that, it’s his fault for being immature."

"Immature?" she snapped at him, "No no no, it’s insanity. I saw it in his eyes, the possessiveness and madness when the part of the statue is missing, all for the sake of that? I don’t know how long I will have to bear this. I can slowly go insane too for centuries living in this lifeless marriage, Hades, especially when the son he so much loved is not my own blood-" She gasped and closed her mouth, Hades got caught off guard hearing it.

"What?" He holds her shoulder, “What do you mean? Didn’t Poseidon announce to the whole Greek pantheons about you bearing his child?” Amphitrite isn’t able to hold eye contact anymore seeing the confused but angry Hades.

"Mom..."Her heart drops dead as she turns in horror to see him trembling, the familiar uncomfortable expression when he has to witness the familiar scene many times.

"Atlas!" She runs to hug him, "Did you just see the fight? Oh, I'm so sorry to have you see that."

"Mom... what do you mean?"

"W- what is it?"

"So, you're not really my mom?" His eyes are getting glossier each time passed along with his red nose. "Then, where's my real mom? Did she abandon me?" The tears fall as his crying sound is getting louder making her feeling more guilty, she hugs him tightly and pat his blonde hair.

“No no, of course not my dear… she’s umm… she-”

“I believe me and him deserve an explanation from you, Amphitrite.” He glared at Amphitrite like a predator caged its prey, unable to let her run away from the problem. After a long uncomfortable silence, she takes a breath first and stands up to glance at him.

“You both deserve an explanation… but, promise me,” she continued, “Don’t tell Poseidon, at least not now, okay?” He nods as she leads them to Atlas’ bedroom and locks the door. She sits on his bed as she massages her head, trying to find the best words to explain while the two of them wait for her.

“I already knew Atlas when he’s only a toddler, I still remember the sight of Poseidon holding him…”

…

~The night before the wedding~

To her younger self when she was still a naive princess, who was once frightened by Poseidon’s first sight. The way he always ignores her or glares at her when she makes a mistake. Hundreds of insults and mockery threw at her, driving her to avoid him even more throughout years staying in Poseidon castle as his fiance because her father thought that it’s a “good thing” for her to get familiar with him before the marriage.

When she’s ready to go to sleep, relaxing her tense muscles before tomorrow's marriage, the sudden strange calming sound arouses her suspicion. She opens the doors and follows the sound. All the way to the bottom of the sea floors. She found the source of the sound from one of the rooms and opened the door a little bit. Her eyes went wide at such a beautiful sight of the cold tyrant of the sea showing a small smile toward the unknown baby, holding the sleeping baby with such a gentle touch while humming a calm deep lullaby with the moon illuminating him heavenly like an angel.

“Impossible, how can he be so cruel, yet gentle at the same time?” She mutter

“Women, what are you doing?” She jumped at his sharp tone, once warm turned icy in a split second. She slowly opened the door, welcomed by his unamused face. She clears her throat to not feel pressured by the awkwardness, “My apologies, Poseidon, I just happened to hear your heavenly lullaby from my bedroom, I can’t help but listen to it too.”

She glanced at the sleeping baby, a smile growing wide fighting the urge not to touch the cheek, “So, who’s this baby? He’s just as beautiful as you.”

“My son.”

Silence came again, as her mouth slightly opened and eyes wide in disbelief. Unsure what to even say, “S- so, you’ve married before, then?” she frowned when he kept silent, “Where’s your previous wife?”

“Passed away.” He said in the usual cold tones, but she knew underneath that there’s a slight crack and irritation as his gaze now turned to the moonlight. Of course she passed away, or else Poseidon wouldn’t even remarry. However, deep in her heart she knew there’s a small crack discovered he’s used to love a certain woman, and now the baby is the only thing left of that woman.

“Sorry to hear that,” she continued, “What’s the name of the baby?”

“Atlas.”

…

~the night after the marriage event~

It was a cold kiss, but she received it welcomely despite his expressionless face throughout the whole wedding, but it’s okay. “It’s really okay, he’s probably not used to me yet. One day he will!” She patted herself. Emerald eyes sparkled at the whole sea regions and the Greek pantheon of deities and nymphs congratulated them, isn’t this what she’s been dreaming of? Marrying a handsome prince and living happily ever after?

During night time where everyone has a great time of feast, smiling and chattering. While Poseidon were discussing with his brothers and several gods, Amphitrite was accompanied by Aphrodite and Persephone having tea together as the both of them enjoyed their little chats while she quietly listened.

“Dear Amphitrite sweetheart, may I ask why you would want to marry Poseidon? It’s clear as day that he’s hard to be swayed by love.” Amphitrie got caught off guard with Aphrodite's question, she rested her chin on her hand thinking the perfect way to explain it.

“Well, I’m aware that a god like Poseidon is difficult to read and likes to close himself off from everyone. I’m aware too that this is a marriage for political reasons, but time itself is impossible to read too, who knows it’ll take time for him to open up to me, and maybe I can fix him.”

Aphrodite giggled while pinching her cheek playfully, “Amphitrite, I hope you can keep your words, I’ll give you the best gift if you can win his heart.”

“Haha, to be honest, I’m used to being scared of him too, but when I saw him holding his son gently in his arm it’s like seeing part of the real him open up. How can I not want to win his heart and show his other good side to me too ?”

“Son?” Persephone gasped and stood in surprise causing everyone to look at them, “What do you mean he has a son?”

Suddenly, everyone is freezed, tons of eyes now peered at Amphitrtie who was surprised too at everyone’s new discovery. “I- I thought everyone know that he has a child-”

Suddenly Poseidon touched her shoulder and leaned her closer to him as he announced to everyone, “Yes, I do have a son… with her.”

Everyone including his brothers and her families are elated by the news, congratulating the couple as they continued the feast. However, Amphitrite snapped at Poseidon who’s still avoiding her eye contact, questioning his suspicious act… head feels dizzy as she frowned at the announcement. Suddenly, Zeus wrapped his arm around Poseidon and Amphitrite in joyous, “Congratulations on having a child! So it turns out you guys already did a dirty thing before the marriage, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“Congratulations, I anticipate meeting my nephew by tomorrow.” Hades shook his hand while laughing, yet despite the wonderful news, Amphitrite got left confused all alone watching the crowd in line congratulate them, leaving her deep in thought of her mind.

…

“Poseidon, what’s with all of this? I thought everyone knew about your son.” Amphitrite sat on bed facing Poseidon who’s changing his clothes to something more comfortable, once again avoiding eye contact with her. She clenches her fist when he has the nerve to ignore her question, “Not only that, but you LIED to them about him being my son in blood? What about your previous wife? How would she feel about this?”

“Don’t remind me about Y/n, Amphitrite.”

“Y/n? So that’s her name, huh? Don’t tell me that no one also knew about this Y/n.”

Another silent response made her more convinced, knowing this, she slowly moved away from him, his unreadable expression made her stomach twist. “Poseidon, why would you lie?”

What are you trying to hide?

“All you need to know is that I did all of this to keep her and Atlas safe from the gods’ eyes. If they ever discover the truth about them, I’ll gouge their eyes and shred their bodies to pieces where their mouth wouldn’t spread all over to other realm,” Amphitrite shiver at his calm tone, she felt her heart skipped a beat at his eyes finally made an eye contact, the eyes that threaten her as if a trident ready to strike her if she made a single mistake, “This include you too Amphitrite, just do your job as a queen and a mother, and I’ll turn a blind eye on you. Remember that this is a marriage that’ll benefit your family.”

…

“That’s all I know,” Amphitrite steady her breath as she lies her head down, feeling uncomfortable with the silence, “It’s true, ever since that, I wouldn’t dare to ask him about her. I- I don’t- I don’t know why my foolish self is still trying to love him despite his undying love for his previous wife.”

Tears spilled from her eyes, words unable to be formed as she cover her cry from them. “Why did I even keep pursuing?” She thought, but a sudden heaviness on her caught her off guard, uncovering her face to see Atlas hugging her.

“It’s ok, mom.” Amphitrite hug him back with more tears spilled, her heart melt knowing Atlas is still calling her mom despite the truth. However, Hades is still standing across from her as he Massages his forehead, still surprised yet angry, but at his foolish brother.

“Atlas, can you please change your clothes and go have breakfast? Your mother and I still have to discuss about… this…further through.” Atlas nods as he changes his clothes and unlocks the door to go to the dining hall, leaving Amphitrite and Hades alone in his room.

Hades approach Amphitrite to sit beside her as his hand tap on her shoulder, “I’m sorry to hear that… I never thought he would do that.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is. As his brother, I shouldn’t have been too lenient on him, he’s just using you for his own benefit.”Amphitrite shake her head, “It’s partly my fault too for not refused it and being naive, I was too scared by my own father,” clearing her throat as she jump to different topic, “But, about her…”

“Y/n…” Hades humm, “So she’s Atlas' biological mother, why does Poseidon hide her from everyone? Out of shame?”

“Shame?”

“Poseidon is a pride god, if he loves her that much, what makes him want to hide her in the dark? Have you ever suspected her identity and background?”

Amphitrite put her hand on the chin as she recalled her moment when she was in the library, however it put a frown on her face, “I have try to search about her in the library, yet no books have had a record about her, so for now I’m assuming that she’s not a goddess from this pantheon nor a nymph.”

“Not even a nymph? How did you come up with that assumption?”

“From Atlas of course, if Y/n is a nymph from certain creatures, he will have the appearance or characteristic of that creature, however none of it are in him.”

“Fair enough.”

“How about you? Does the name Y/n sound familiar?”

“That’s… the problem, it’s new and unfamiliar within this patheon nor any other places, never for eons have I ever heard that name,” Hades massages his head and sighs as the mystery causes a headache to him., sick of his brother’s antics, he stand up, “I will ask him right now, he’s the only one who knows the truth.”

Hearing this, Amphitrite immediately stand and holds his shoulder as she shakes her head, “Don’t! If you ask him he will immediately know I told you and will slaughter me,” she continued after steadied her breath, “Please, I’m not stopping you to research about her, but don’t directly ask him.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him about this too. He has been hiding this far too long, I’m disappointed at his oddly obsessive behavior-”

“Hades, your shoes.” Hearing her gasp, he looked down and froze, seeing the crimson blood seeping from under the bed all the way staining his shoes. He kneels, and looks under it to discover the missing part of the statue — the ring finger — feeling the hard rock texture, yet when he touches the bleeding part, he shivers from the soft rotten meat and bone texture.

“There’s a dead body of a mortal hidden inside a statue, how is it under his bed?” He frown, “Moreover, the ring on that finger-“

“It can’t be, that’s the same pair of rings that Poseidon has.”

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #anime #ror poseidon #snv poseidon #poseidon x reader #yandere poseidon x reader

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lewsnumerounofan · 9 months

Text

party foul (jeremiah fisher x reader)

summary: so what if you're in love with your best friend, jeremiah fisher? one drunk kiss won't change anything. right?

notes: not biblically accurate conrad, teen drinking, kissing, 3k words, reader previously dated co**ad, angst/miscomm., not proof read at all

+ part 2

+ i never keep the same tense i'm so sooryim gooo fuckjuhnbsorry oh my god and dw abt the header image!!!!!! it's okay!!!!!

kissing jere was easy.

it was the first thing you noticed. how easy it was to let his lips slant over yours, to tilt your head back at the greedy request of his hands, to forget about the party and conrad and the house.

it was just him and the feel of his mouth on yours.

you hadn't expected this, to say the least. in fact, you'd been bracing for an awkward and mostly miserable night. ever since conrad and you had split back in june, things had been awful. the breakup had been bad itself--getting ditched at prom without explanation was one thing--but watching conrad get back with nicole a week later was even worse.

so you were pleasantly surprised with yourself when you decided to go to the fisher's goodbye party, despite whatever tension there might be between you and conrad.

if you were being honest with yourself though, you mostly had jeremiah to thank. you two had been best friends since childhood, but ever since his brother had broken your heart, jere had been there for you. all the time, really. he'd drive down on weekends to check up on you. and when susannah had gotten worse, you'd driven up to make sure he was eating and sleeping too.

so of course he'd been able to convince you to come stay, waving off your concerns about conrad. i want you there, he'd said. i really want you there. and so you'd come. you arrived late, tired from the hours of highway driving. already the house was packed with hap hazardously parked cars and drunk teenagers. the music was loud even on the warm streets outside, and you couldn't help but feel excited as you pulled your bag out of your car and started towards the party.

taylor was the one who opened the door for you. she launched herself into a hug, giggling and shrieking as you two swung around.

"oh my god. you have no idea how happy i am to see you," she yelled, dragging you into the crowded house.

together you fumbled upstairs, eventually breaking into one of the larger rooms. various assortments of air mattresses and water beds covered the floor. jere had called you as soon as they'd gotten back from the boardwalk about julia's suprise moving. it wasn't often you heard him so... defeated.

"you can drop your stuff wherever," said taylor, "but the one in the corner is jeremy's."

she didn't even bother to hide her grin as you slapped her arm. nothing, not even your best kept secret, made it past taylor.

"shut up. you can't say anything to him or i swear i'll kill you," you promised, only half joking.

"oh please. he hasn't stopped talking about you the whole trip. it's disgusting."

you tried not to smile at that--jere talked about you? i mean, he'd called you just about every day for the last few months. more, on days when things were hard. but still, you felt almost nervous at the thought of seeing him now. of what it might be like between you.

your thoughts were cut off by a shout of your name. running into the room was belly. well, not running--rolling.

"oh my god bell what are you wearing?" you asked. it was too late though, because she was wrapping you up in a wobbly, crushing hug.

"roller skates? duh? they're an old pair of susannah's," she said.

you'd missed belly. she looked fucking adorable in her little vintage number, and you hugged her again just because. over her shoulder you could see steven grinning, and conrad too. you waved to the later while steven strode over, ruffling your hair before taking your bag from you.

"long time no see, city-girl," he said.

"yeah yeah yeah. just be nice to my bag, okay? it's got some very delicate presents," you said. steven raised his eyebrows but did as you said, placing your bag onto the bed taylor had indicated earlier. jere's bed. taylor and steven met eyes and winked--uh oh. the last thing you needed was them trying to set you up with your best friend. your best friend who you're in love with, something inside you said. you tried your best to strangle it.

"hey."

this time it was conrad, who was sporting a pair of atrocious sunflower sunglasses on the top of his head.

"hey. i like the glasses," you said, doing your best to smile. it was weird to talk like this to him. you were so angry and embarrassed and sad because of him for so long, and now there was just... nothing. and it felt okay.

"uh, yeah. nicole--nicole got them for me."

he looked sheepish, blushing in a way that used to have you fawning. now you just did your best to nod, saying, "well, she's certainly got a good eye for fashion."

you were saved from the conversation by steven's cough. he stood by the doorway, impatiently waving you towards the party.

"cmon guys, can we hurry this up?"

"yeah, gimmie one sec," you promised. returning to your bag you pulled out the liquor you'd secured on your way there, the bottles heavy in your hands.

"see," you said, turning back to your friends, "presents."

downstairs was even louder than you thought it would be. belly had gone all out for the party--strobe lights blared in every room, a kegger was set up outside, and a dj (was that cam cameron??) was spinning in the living room. you had to admit it: you were having a good time. a really good time. except for, that is, one thing. or person, really. jere was nowhere to be found. he'd even missed out on the group shots you, steven, taylor, belly and conrad had downed first beside the pool and then by the kitchen. jeremiah never missed group shots.

a little more than drunk now, you pushed off from your spot on the counter to find your bestfriend.

"city-girl, where you going?" asked steven.

"i'm gonna go find jere. i haven't seen him since i got in."

"i'll come with you," a voice spoke up.

it was conrad, who looked between you and the floor nervously. you didn't miss the questioning looks that pass between taylor and belly. you shrug at them--a little nervous, but not enough to turn him down in front of all your friends.

"uh, yeah sure."

so you and conrad made your way back through the party, scanning couches and corners for jeremiah. by the time you hit the stairs you were both sweaty and annoyed. you had come all this way to see him, and all of a sudden he'd disappeared.

"he's not picking up any of my calls," said conrad, pulling his phone away from his ear.

"me neither," you admitted, letting yourself swing around the banister to sit at the bottom of the staircase. cautiously, conrad gestured to empty landing beside you.

"mind if i join?"

you nod, scooching over to make room. conrad looked bigger than last time you'd seen him. he looked stronger too. for a while after susannah died he'd looked like a corpse--pale and skinny and only half there. even you could admit you were glad to see him doing so much better.

"hey, look i didn't really tag along to search for jere," conrad said, glancing back at you. shocker.

"i uh," he cleared his throat, "i mostly just wanted to apologize. for how things ended. i know i messed up really bad and i wanted to say i'm sorry."

in the hazy blue and purple's of the dance floor below, conrad's steel-blue eyes were genuine. for the first time that night they held yours steadily.

"i was hurting, and let myself fall on you for comfort even when i knew you weren't who i wanted. who i needed. and it wasn't fair to you. i know that now, and i'm sorry it took me so long. i'm really, really sorry."

huh. you hadn't really expected that one either. but it was nice to hear him say those words. you liked conrad. he was a good guy who'd had a rough hand delt to him. and yeah, he hadn't done right by you. but like susannah had always repeated:

"no harm no foul," you said, and let yourself smile at him. he looked relieved as he smiled back, no doubt recognizing the reference to his mother.

"you're happy now, i take it? with nicole?" you ask.

"yeah. more than happy, actually. don't know what i did to deserve her."

you're happy for him, in that moment. really happy.

"what about you? you finally stopped messing around and admitted your feelings to jere?" he asked.

"huh?" you drop, mouth open. there's no way.

"what," he chuckled, grinning harder at your shocked expression, "like it's not obvious you two are crazy for each other."

you can feel the blush spreading across your cheeks now, stomach skipping at his words. so they all knew, you realized. does jere?

"he doesn't--you didn't tell him, right?" you said, panic rising.

conrad shakes his head, still looking amused.

"no, but he'd be a fool not to see it. you guys are perfect for each other. really."

"thanks, conrad."

and you mean it--it's been months of awkwardness between you. and now you just feel... good. you feel like you've got your friend back. so you lean over and hug him, letting yourself remember that before your fling you were friends, and returning back to it feels comforting and warm.

"thank you, for hearing me out. i'm glad we can be back to normal now," he said into your shoulder.

"friends again?" you ask.

"definit--"

"what the fuck?"

it's jeremiah. he stands at the top of the stairs, eyes wide. he's wearing the ariana grande merch you'd gotten him. he looks the same and yet--

and yet something in your chest fizzes and your stomach starts running circles as you look at him. you missed him. and not because he was your best friend.

"jere--it's not what it looks like," said conrad.

and then you realized he did look different. the jeremiah you knew was always grinning about some secret joke, or making fun of belly or steven. he never looked... betrayed like this. and he certainly never looked at you with disgust. with anger.

"what the fuck are you guys doing?" he asked again, but this time he didn't even look at you.

"nothing, jere. we were just talking," said conrad.

you cringed at his words. they might be true, but they sure didn't sound good.

"yeah, sure," laughed jere. you'd never heard him laugh like that. it made your skin prickle.

"c'mon, you know i'd never do that-" conrad started.

jeremiah was faster though. he was up in conrad's face in a second, pushing him into the wall. you'd never seen him like this. he wasn't an aggressive guy; even when the brothers fought it was never violent.

"don't fucking lie, con. you were just waiting to take her back weren't you? waiting until you knew it'd hurt me the most, huh?"

you felt his words viscerally, like they were being penned onto your skin. hurt him the most? it was the closest to a confession you'd gotten, but it all felt wrong.

by now, partygoers on the main floor had started to notice the commotion. people were pointing, some even starting to pull out their phones. great.

"jere," you called. he paused, bright blue eyes on you. even now, fighting with his brother, jeremiah looked beautiful. maybe you had had a bit too much to drink.

"jere, please let it go. conrad isn't a part of this," you murmured. though you didn't break eye contact, you could see his hands loosen around his brother's shirt in your peripheral. jaw clenched, he heeded your wishes, giving a final shove to conrad before breaking away. he walked quickly down the stairs and into the throngs of people below.

"jere, wait up!" you call, desperately trying to follow the broad shape of his back through the crowd. jeremiah didn't bother trying to accommodate your smaller strides, and you almost lost him a few times in the packed house.

"would you please slow down? jere," you said again. by now you were out of the house, dodging pool floaties and scattered drinks. the blonde made no indication of hearing you as he kept striding towards the beach.

"jeremiah!"

finally he whipped around. he still looked mad--the set of his jaw, the notching of his eyebrows--but under all of it, he just looked sad. you hated seeing him upset, and you hated knowing you might've been the cause of it.

"jere, please. what's going on?" you asked, this time softly. he was close to you now. you could see his heavy breathing, could smell the perfume he always wore.

"how would i know. you're the one who's looking all close with your ex--my brother--conrad," he spits. he swallows hard, like he's checking himself.

"it was always you and conrad. even when we were kids it was that way. i was stupid to think it could've been any different."

he turned away from you, gaze hard. oh, jere. you have no idea, you thought. it was him--how could he not see that? how could he really think it was conrad you cared about?

you couldn't deny it any longer: you loved jere. and you definitely weren't about to let him walk away thinking otherwise.

quickly, without letting yourself dwell on it, you grabbed jeremiah's hand. he turned back, eyes wide. and you kissed him.

kissing jere was easy.

it was the first thing you noticed. how easy it was to let his lips slant over yours, to tilt your head back at the greedy request of his hands, to forget about the party and conrad and the house.

it was just him and the feel of his mouth on yours.

and then everything was static. everywhere he touched you--the long, lean press of his body to your front, the sharp slide of his jawline under your palm, the firm press of his hands at your waist. every sense was filled with him and his warmth and the way he smelled.

you were gasping into the kiss, hyperaware of the small noises he made when you pulled on his curls. of just how tall he was, how much he had to lean down to hold you like this.

you barely broke away enough to say, "jere, nothing happened with conrad. we were talking about you-"

"don't care," he said, voice rough. because he was too busy lifting you onto one of the wooden boardwalk rails, muscled arms flexing in the distant party lights.

you barely had time to settle before he was kissing you again, sloppy this time, like he owned your mouth and wanted you to know it. you felt hot everywhere, as his hands pulled apart your thighs and he crowded his broad body into you.

you'd kissed once before for a game of truth or dare. it had been sweet and short, and you both had been teased about it for years afterwards. this was different.

wholly different, you realized, as jeremiah's lips sought out the hot skin of your neck. there was no place except where he touched you; the noise of the party, the lull of the waves on the beach, the quiet way he murmured against your skin.

"jere," you said, because there was no room in your mind for anything or anyone else. he hummed as his canines bit lightly at your ear. jere.

greedy for more, you took one of the tan, strong hands holding your face and brought it lower, lower until it rested over your frantically beating heart. jere had pulled away to watch your ministrations, cursing softly as his hand fell over your chest.

"you sure?" he asked, and his voice sounded hoarse.

"yeah, course jere. it's you."

something behind his eyes sparked at the trust you promised. it's always been you. kissing you once more, gentler this time, jere let his hand run up and under the vintage bathing suit top you'd stolen from your mom for the party.

skin on skin, jeremiah was soft and warm. he was breathing heavy as you as he felt you up. forehead to yours, gaze keen as he watched you pant and squirm.

"this okay?"

you could only nod, eyes drawn tight at the sensation. he kissed you again, his touch more confident as you clung to his shoulders.

you'd messed around with conrad a few times. it had felt good. fun, even. but he'd never had you reeling like this, never made you feel like everywhere he touched was fire. that feeling was reserved for jere.

and as his thumb circled your nipple and his teeth pulled at your lip, you realized you were burning and there wasn't anything you could do to stop it. best friend or not, jere was the only one who could make you feel like this. ever.

you pulled away from his mouth. he looked concerned, and you could feel him move his hands away from you.

"sorry if i..." he started, blue eyes near scared as he watched you.

"no, jere it's not that. it's, it's just that i-"

"hey, there's my man! where the fuck were you dude?"

it was steven. fucking steven. on his arm was taylor, who grinned manically when she saw your mussed hair and blushing expression. please not now, taylor. please don't mess this up any more.

but drunk as they were, the pair didn't notice your nervous expression. instead, steven laughed and said, "so did you finally tell her you're in love with her or what?"

jere's face dropped. whatever softness you'd shared moments earlier was gone. his mouth set flat, hands that had been mapping out your body now closed into fists.

"fuck you, steven."

taylor's eyes were on you now, finally recognizing the tears you tried to blink away. with a hand on his chest she held steven back, some wordless communication passing between them. if you hadn't been feeling your own heart break you would've been trying to tease them about it.

instead, you chased after jeremiah's retreating figure.

"jere, will you please listen!" you called. but he was stubborn--you knew this better than anyone. one more time you tried, shouting his name over the stupidly loud party.

he whipped back around, blue eyes sharp.

"just stay away from me, okay? why don't you go find conrad to wipe your tears," he snapped. for a moment, jere looked shocked at his own words too. but then he was shaking his head, tearing his gaze away from yours as he continued through the crowds towards the house. away from you.

and this time, as people collapsed into the space all around you, their yelling and singing drowning out even your thoughts, you knew there was no use calling for him.

#jeremiah fisher #team jeremiah #jeremiah x reader #jeremiah fisher smut #jeremiah smut #jeremiah fic #jeremiah x you #tsitp #jeremiah fisher imagine #jeremiah tsitp imagine #party foul #bigkeepup

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blindmagdalena · 1 month

Note

I love the idea of you having a cat and she loves Homelander more than you. So she trots up to him, does belly flops next to his feet and always sits on him. You're like, "you TRAITOR!" and he is smug.

"Traitor," you accuse sullenly. There's nothing to be done about it, though. All you can do is watch your cat—your once loyal and beloved pet—purr and roll every which way, bumping between Homelander's boots.

Homelander's brows furrow, but he doesn't move. He's planted firmly on the couch watching the rolling animal. "What's wrong with it?"

You exhale an incredulous laugh. "What do you mean? She wants you to pet her."

His gaze flickers up to meet yours, those ocean eyes contemplative. There are times when Homelander is strange in ways that are difficult to articulate. He becomes lost in mundane moments that you take for granted.

Sometimes he's like an alien. A perfect approximation of a human assembled by an entity that knows of them only through film and the pop culture zeitgeist.

"Never pet a cat before?" You ask.

"No," he answers, surprising you. Oh.

"Well, just... stroke," you encourage, miming the gesture. "Head to tail, never backwards. Go with the fur."

He moves to do as instructed, but your cat startles at the touch and lets go a harmless hiss, sniffing at the leather of his gloves.

"Oh, what?" He asks the cat derisively, visibly offended by the unpleasant reaction. He always hates to learn he's done something wrong. "You instigated."

You stifle a laugh behind your hand. "You spooked her. Take off your glove."

A little reluctantly, he does as he's told, popping loose each finger of his glove before he slides it off, setting it to the side.

"Let her smell your hand first," you say, crossing your arms.

He shoots you a withering look, clearly unimpressed with the ritual of it all, given that he was the one initially accosted, but nevertheless he places his long, outstretched fingers in front of the cats face.

You watch, your jealousy dissolving in the wake of the revelation that this is his first time experiencing the favor of such a fickle little beast.

A few sniffs, and then your cat pushes into his finger, dragging her cheek down the length of it. He strokes down her back in turn, and the tentative mutter of her purr revs back up into a full on rumble.

Something shifts in him at her unspoken acceptance. The square line of his shoulders softens, as does his expression. He pets her a few times before letting her sniff again, the corner of his mouth twitching with the force she pushes her head up into his palm.

Another flop onto her back, belly wide open, paws primed. The trap is set.

"She wants you to rub her belly," you say, hiding the deviousness of your smile.

Homelander doesn't question it. He reaches out to ruffle the fur on her stomach, and her claws close on him with all the tenacity of a fuzzy little beartrap, snagging his hand with teeth and claws alike, her hind paws kicking wildly at his wrist.

His expression flattens. "You really are a traitor."

You laugh, closing the distance to sit next to him on the couch. Anyone else would have recoiled, but Homelander dispassionately endures your cats valiant efforts to mangle his invulnerable skin.

"Tis the season, I suppose," you say, leaning against him. "Happy Ides of March."

His lip twitches. No one appreciates a good Roman empire reference quite the way Homelander does. He untangles his fingers from her snare and scratches at her head, splaying his fingers when she ducks away, tail flicking, still purring ardently.

He leans back against the couch, putting his arm around you. You rest your head against his chest, and he turns to plant a kiss atop your head.

Your cat jumps up onto the couch, not content to be abandoned, and starts making her way onto Homelander's lap. She immediately makes herself at home, kneading into the soft padded thigh of his suit. His brows crease at the sound of her claws catching on the fabric, but he doesn't shoo her.

She settles on his lap for the first—but certainly not the last—time. He pets her from her head to the tip of her tail, the remaining bit of tension in him bleeding away as she purrs. Her persistent nuzzling even brings a faint easy smile to his lips.

You never thought that something as mundane as petting a cat would feel like a milestone, but in your time with Homelander, you've learned that he's missing an awful lot of those. Some more significant than others, but none that you would trade away.

Maybe sharing your cat's love isn't quite so bad.

#ask and you shall receive #darling anon #homelander x reader #homelander x you #my writing #x reader

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cowgurrrl · 1 year

Text

Nobody asked but here are my headcanons for Joel as the ultimate girl dad™️

Gets Ellie into a routine as soon as possible so she knows what to expect in her day-to-day life. There’s not much he can guarantee outside of their home but he can make sure she eats, does her homework, and is off to bed at the same time every night.

Speaking of bed, he’s the dad who has a STRICT bedtime set. He can’t sleep until he knows Ellie is safe in bed and even though she’s a teenager he still makes her be in bed by 10 but he absolutely can be persuaded to let her stay up with a long game of cards, guitar lessons, or a movie.

Before Ellie, he would’ve been reckless if it meant keeping Jackson safe but now that he knows she’s relying on him he does things slower and safer.

Maria teaches him how to cut hair so he can help Ellie because he knows how hard it is for her to trust other people especially when they have something that could be used as a weapon so close to her head.

Definitely pushed her into the river while teaching her how to swim. She was pissed and didn’t talk to him until after dinner.

Ellie becomes known as “Joel’s girl” and neither of them correct anybody who says it

Slips notes into Ellie’s backpack when she’s not looking so when she gets to math class and opens her notebook, a sticky note with Joel all-caps handwriting falls out and reads, Why was the toilet paper unstoppable? And on the other side it says, because it was on a roll

He laughed about it for ten minutes before forgetting about it

Ellie secretly keeps all of his notes in a box under her bed

Teaches her how to play football in the spring when all the snow has melted and accuses her of cheating when she scores against him

“How could I cheat? It’s fucking football!” “You’re abusing an old man, you know that?”

Although Ellie never calls Joel dad, there’s an unspoken agreement between them. Joel hated Father’s Day after Sarah died but that Father’s Day they settled, two bouquets of flowers show up on the dining room table with a note from Ellie.

Saw these and thought of you, the note reads. One from me and one from her.

He cries the first time he gets them. He can’t remember the last time anyone gave him flowers.

Lord help the teacher who has to call Joel in for his first parent-teacher conference in twenty years. Everyone is Jackson knows how protective he is over Ellie and her teacher is only slightly terrified of him.

Ellie constantly steals Joel’s shirts and he pretends not to notice

He’s always looking for new tapes for her Walkman and asks every group that comes through Jackson if they have anything

Ellie ends up with three new tapes to listen to by the end of their first year of being settled

Joel knows he’s probably doing a million things wrong and danger is always lurking and the time they have together is fleeting but he does his best to be good for her. He apologizes when he yells, he shows up to her first guitar recital, and constantly reminds her how loved she is even if there aren’t always words exchanged

Sometimes it’s a hug, the squeeze of a hand, or a ruffle of hair but they both know it means so much more. Giving and receiving affection would’ve been seen as a show of weakness in Boston, a vulnerability that others can play into. Here, love doesn’t have to hide or be shunned to the dark corners of their lives. They can just be.

Who knew Ellie tripping Joel while playing football in the spring meadow meant so much more than anyone else thought?

Tumblr if you delete my last paragraph one more time I’m going to gnaw my arm off

#joel miller headcanon #joel miller fluff #joel and ellie #ellie williams #ellie miller #joel miller #joel miller the last of us #joel miller drabble #joel miller x reader #the last of us x reader #the last of us hbo #the last of us #ellie williams headcanons #i wrote this for me but you can read it too i guess #pushing my Joel Miller girl dad agenda once again

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moonstruckme · 2 months

Note

i’ve been craving summer a whole lot lately so i’d love to see what a summer day with tasm!peter would look like if you’re up for it!!

Thanks for requesting my love!

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 705 words

You come home expecting relief, sweaty and smelly and exhausted, but there is none. The apartment you share with Peter is as stifling as it was outside.

You go straight to the fridge. Maybe there’s some water you can pour over yourself or frozen peas you can shove under your boobs or something. As soon as you pad into the kitchen, Peter’s head pokes through the window to the fire escape.

“Hey,” he says, sounding about as peppy as you feel. “The A/C’s broken.”

“I can tell,” you sigh. “Have you texted the landlord?”

“Texted, called, faxed—he’s definitely ignoring me. I went to his unit, and I’m not sure if he’s out or just hiding, but if he doesn’t respond by tonight I’m going in through his window.” Peter lets his head loll against the window frame, face flushed as he looks up at you. He makes a very pretty puddle. “Kiss?”

You smile ruefully. “It’s too hot for kissing.”

He huffs a laugh. “Fair enough. There’s popsicles in the freezer, wanna grab a couple and join me out here?”

You open the freezer, and your heart inflates like one of those lifejackets they keep on airplanes. Peter—brilliant, considerate, genius Peter—has invested in a giant bag of tube popsicles. You grab a red one for him and a green one for yourself and climb out onto the fire escape.

“You’re so smart for these,” you say. He grins as you pass him one, taking scissors from the windowsill to cut the top off of yours before doing his own. Your calf rubs slickly against his as you slot your legs in between his own. You don’t mind as much as you should. “Why’re you out here?”

“The alley gets a breeze,” he explains, closing his eyes and tilting his head back slightly, the encapsulation of a golden retriever in boy form. A whisper of wind catches in his fluffy hair, just barely ruffling it, but Peter grins like it’s the most satisfying thing in the world. “Feel?”

“Gimme a sec.” You take the plastic covering of your popsicle between your teeth, freeing your hands to pull the hair off your neck and securing it with a ponytail. The sweat-slicked skin of your nape feels blissfully cool in the air, and your eyes slip closed too as you pull the popsicle from your lips. “Oh, yeah,” you sigh, “I feel it.”

Peter’s silent, and when you open your eyes he’s giving you a look. Eyebrows raised just slightly, one corner of his mouth tilted up.

“If you still think it’s too hot to kiss,” he says, “you’re going to have to stop being so hot.”

You scoff. “Peter,” you say, like come on. “I was just putting my hair up.”

“And you know what that does to me.” He takes a bite of his popsicle, crunching pointedly.

“It’s hot,” you complain.

“It really is,” he replies, with a grin that has you rolling your eyes.

“I mean that I’m—that my neck is hot.”

“Again, so true.”

“Stop it.” You narrow your eyes seriously, pressing your lips together hard to keep them from quirking. “There’s nothing sexy about how miserable it is out here.”

Peter hums noncommittally, raising one shoulder in a half-shrug before he leans forward to hook his hands under your sweaty knees. You laugh as he hauls you toward him, his knees caging your ribs. He purses his lips, and you succumb yourself to your fate, and then cool air kisses your skin.

You open your eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I think it’s pretty obvious,” he says, continuing to blow on your face. “Is it helping?”

You take a second, letting yourself get used to the feeling of his air soothing over your damp brow. “Actually, yeah.”

Your boyfriend grins, still puffing out air as best he can through his smile. It brings his sun-kissed cheeks up towards his eyes and makes his lashes kiss.

You let yourself kiss him right there beside his eye, a token of your appreciation, but that’s not good enough for Peter. He taps your cheek, nudging you towards his lips, until you oblige him.

“You’re my hero,” you tell him lightly.

“Yeah, yeah, get in line.”

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chiiyuuvv · 5 months

Text

wc; 974

Thinking about classmate!eunseok, who you aren't necessarily friends with, but was someone that was always friendly. You decided to sit next to each other in your college course, agreeing to help the other out.

But recently eunseoks been really tired, stay up late since a new game just dropped last week, and hes been at it with seunghan ever since. The professor's droning voice along with the slightly chilly room sends him in a daze, his eyes getting heavier and heavier until they finally shut, his head leaning until they hit your shoulder.

You were a little shocked at first, having to erase your now messed up letters as you look over at him with a chuckle. Struggling to get your jacket, you place it over his sleeping figure, then continue taking notes.

You didnt mind the first time, or the second time, or the third time.. until it became a habit. Eunseok would come to class saying how he wasnt going to fall asleep but 10 minutes in and hes tapped out, his chair closer to yours so he can rest comfortably against you, his soft hair rubbing against your neck and his pink lips parted that it sends a ping to your heart. But you look away; you didnt want to invade his privacy (even if he was laying on you) and you had to take notes for you to study, and so you could teach eunseok.

It happens so much to the point that random students approach your small corner by the window daily, asking you and a sleeping eunseok if you were together, but you always shook your head no with a laugh.

Maybe this was something reserved for boyfriends and girlfriends? You hadnt put much thought into it, just thinking of doing a favor for a friend.

There's was one day when eunseok was half asleep, his eyes closed and snoring, when another student pops up to ask the same question. He couldnt pick up everything, but he could faintly hear the 'youre so cute together!! Are you dating??' and it wakes him up faster than his alarm. His eyes doesnt shoot open though, and he doesnt sit up as he was too comfortable, so he gets a bold idea.

His crossed arms begin to unravel and wrap around your waist, now side hugging you as it gets your attention quickly, causing your sentence of telling the girls no to halt, your head snapping at his direction.

Youre not too sure what came over yourself as your hand comes up to lightly ruffle his fluffy hair, tucking some of it behind his ear. The girls coo before realiizing their interrupting something, running back to their seats to watch the drama unfold. Eunseoks eyes finally open at your touch, realiizing how close you were, your breath lightly fanning his face. The familiar ping in your heart comes back at the sight of his big boba eyes boring into yours, his lips still parted and looking so kissable, but you shake that thought off and send him your usual smile.

As well as your usual question, "how was your sleep?" You notice how quickly eunseok sits up, his warmth leaving you as he clears his throat, running his hand through his messy hair and avoiding your gaze. "G-good?" The was the first time you ever heard him stutter, along with finding the tip of his ears red.

"Oh." Was all you could say before the bell rings, signaling the long and hard day was over, gathering up your stuff and throwing your bag over your shoulder. "Lemme help you.." you hear him mutter as he puts some of your notebooks in your bag and zipping it up, patting it to show hes done.

"Such a gentlemen." You joke, a low chuckle leaving his lips as you finally stand up from your chair, stretching your legs with a sigh.

Its been an unspoken rule that eunseok walks you home ever since hes been sleeping on you, leading you out of the university and to the grass sidewalk. "Hey.. can we talk..?" His hands were stuffed into his pockets as he stops walking, his big boba eyes looking up at you again as your heart begins to race. For two reasons actually, cute!! and oh no, whats wrong?

"What's up?" You try to hide your nervousness as you watch eunseok take a step closer to you, his shyness making the air a little heavy. "Thank you." He says breathlessly, a smile forming as your eye brows raise.

"For?" You gesture him to continue.

"For.. everything, really. For letting me sleep on you, for taking notes for me.. and teaching me. You teach way better than the professor by the way."

You share a chuckle, before eunseok looks at you seriously again.

"I feel like ive been taking advantage of you, so whenever you're feeling tired, you can lay on me. O-or if you need anyone to talk to..!! Im right here!" He finishes the last part shyly, his hand coming up to rub his nape.

"Eunseok.." was all you could mutter as you acknowledge his kindness. He looks up with a little grin before his eyes widen as you hug him, his strong arms coming to wrap around your waist, holding you tightly.

The next day, eunseok decides to go to bed a bit early, coming into the university with more energy than hes ever had. Sitting down next to you and jotting down notes, his doesnt fail to notice how you've been yawning ever since the professor came into the class.

"What, no, eunse-"

"Nope." He chuckles, softly pushing your head to his shoulder so you can rest comfortably, his arm coming to encirle your waist while the other is busy writing. "You rest, I'll take notes for the both of us." ♡

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rhadamanthes · 27 days

Text

Seashore and more. Sukuna x reader

word count : 2,7 k

warnings : side satoru x reader, voyeurism, pervert sukuna, kind of stalker sukuna, oral sex fem receiving, panty stealing, panty sniffing, body worship, obssesive behavior, breeding kink, lot of pet name, praise, biting, marking

Sukuna has been watching you all night he always does. You caught up on it of course you're a smart girl, but you don't mind, his attention on you feels so good. Drink in hand, from the corner of the room his ruby eyes never missed a single movement of yours. You went from dancing with the bartender to dancing on the table with your girlfriends. Seems like you're distracted and you have fun. The occasion is perfect for him, finishing his drink Sukuna slips away from the hotel's lounge. Using the elevator he stops on your floor. The first day you all arrived at this stupid rich kid summer camp he couldn't help but search for your room you're staying in. Number 308, there you are. The door is cracked open. Are you really that careless ? Even though you're staying in a luxurious hotel with a strong security system this is still dangerous.

If it wasn't for his brother Yuuji that insisted for him to participate to this camp, he'd probably stayed cozily at home, people here are loud and obnoxious, it's the same group of friend then back home, but somehow, they're even more insufferable on the other side of the world. Yuuji killers' argument was, your presence. Of course, how can Sukuna stay away from you for such a long time. Spying your social media daily won't do, he needed the real thing. So he finally obliged.

Letting his body through the crack he pushes the door as he found it before. Your room is spacious but there's clothes clustered all over the floor, the smell of your perfume still lingers in the air. A smirk crosses his lips, you're wearing his favorite tonight. Wasting no time he moves to the section that interests him : the closet. Ruffling through your underwear he can't believe how many panties you bring for 2 weeks. Sure if he takes one you won't notice right ? Pocketing a pair of purple laced panties, he froze hearing voices in the corridor. It's your voice, but you're not alone who the fuck are you bringing up here ? he doesn't have the time to ask himself more questions quickly hiding in the closet shutting the door. Thankfully they're made of wooden stripes so he can see what's going on. And he cannot believe his eyes.

Satoru Gojo, the imbecile impersonified is kissing you with all his might. Kneading your body, he walks towards the bed until you both fall on it. He wants to burst the door open and beat Satoru to a pulp but he can't. You'll freak out if you see him here in the first place. clenching his fist he hopes you'll let this madness end. Kissing your body down to your pussy. Satoru, take off your panties. It's lacy black with some rhinestones on the side. Sukuna jaw grince at the sight, this one is tainted with your scent.

"Can I keep it?" Satoru asks, pouting. You snatch it from his hands hiding the underwear between your pillows.

"This cost a fortune and you have the real deal in front of you, get to work " you complain.

Sighing, Satoru dips his head between your thighs. From his spot Sukuna his boiling how can you let this man touch you so willingly. Through all this rage he admits that seeing you like this turns him on, your face is on the side directly facing him eyes closed as the prettiest moan escapes your dainty lips. All of sudden the room's door opens and Sukuna recognizes one of the girls you were dancing with earlier. Satoru jumps from his spot and you just stand on your elbow.

"They're playing please don't stop the music" she yells squealing in a drunken way.

You gasp, putting your dress back on your thigh, trotting excitedly out of the room. Satoru is sitting on his knees looking at your disappearing form as you ditched him for a 3 minute song. He gets up, looking around for a second and laughs when seeing the bed. Sukuna wants to scream right now, why is he getting the used pantie when he just had to satisfy himself with a stupidly clean one ?Before Satoru can reach the pillow your voice resonates in the room.

"Get out before I drag you by your hair" Satoru shoulders slumps in defeat, making his way out.

Sukuna laughs to himself finally getting out of the closet. He hurriedly makes his way to the bed where his trophy awaits him. Taking the underwear in his hand he put it on his face smelling your scent and moaning in the process. How sweet, is this the price for watching the previous torture ? well he gladly took it going back to the lounge with more than he bargained for.

✿ ۪⋆

The next morning your head pounds from all the alcohol you drank, the loud music and all the dancing.You're in the lobby waiting for the breakfast to be served but it takes so much time you snoop behind the bar, catching a few strawberries and a glass of apple juice. Making your way back to your bedroom you almost get knocked over. Clutching the glass so it doesn't splash everywhere, you raise your head to meet Sukuna's stare. A smile instantly forms on your lips.

"Fancy seeing you here~" you tease him.

It's a surprise for you and everybody that he's here. He usually avoids gathering as best as he can, so for one that lasts two weeks it's very odd to see him here. You can't help but want to get on his nerves.

"Already on champagne ?" he asks, ignoring your greeting.

"It's apple juice, I'm not that far gone" you scoff, biting into one of the strawberries you stole. An idea crosses your mind, with your half eaten fruit you reach for his mouth. Before it can even get remotely close to his face both your wrists are pinned against your belly. The glass of juice falls on the ground, spreading its liquid everywhere. You gasp at the mess.

"I was trying to be nice, no need to be in doberman mode."

"And i don't need to be fed" he states plainly, gripping your wrists harder.

You dramatically hiss, not being really in pain just wanting to extrude a reaction for him, he only squints his eyes.

"Help me finish my breakfast at least" you say, wiggling your wrist still holding the strawberry.

Lowering his gaze to your hand he brings it to your lips. you open your mouth slightly, never breaking eye contact. Biting more into the tender fruit you purposefully make a mess, juice running down his finger and you lick it off. His jaw clenches at the feeling of your pink muscle on his rough skin. He let go of your wrists turning back to leave.

"Sukuna wait!" you call "We're having a boat day today, come with us ! It will be spacious enough for you to be alone but also to join if you want to socialize." you chuckle. He gives you a hard stare over his shoulder but you can distinguish a slight nod. "Can't wait to see your bathing suit!" you yell as he's already far down the hallway.

By the time everybody gets on the boat your headache has toned down a bit, the heat still makes you feel a bit dizzy but nothing you can't manage. The atmosphere is lighthearted. The group shared a meal together, Yuuji brought his speaker, and everybody's chatting. The yacht is sailing through the sea and stopping at various spots so you can enjoy the water. You took a dive but you're lezarding on the sunbed now. It's past noon, the sun shows no mercy and you slowly feel the migraine creeping back on. You decide to retreat from the sun and go cool down in the inner part of the boat.

"Don't be a party pooper" you hear Suguru's honeyed voice. Putting your sunglasses on top of your head, you look at him.

"Just going to lay down for a bit i'm burning" you chuckle rubbing his shoulder. He nods, kissing the top of your head. Everybody says goodbye to you and you go inside. The immediate temperature change makes you shiver, you blink your eyes a few times to get used to the change of light. Once you can see clearly again, you go down the steps and notice that someone is already on the bed. A smile spreads on your features. Not anybody, it's Sukuna. His legs are dangling off the mattress, he's shirtless, wearing a dark purple trunk, one of his tattooed arms is covering his eyes. Making less noise possible you close the distance between the both of you, straddling him

"Tired of us already ?" you taunt laying your hands flat on his chest.

Feeling your ass on his crotch Sukuna freezes, pushing your body off of him. He takes his time to look at you, you're wearing a white low cut bikini with cherry printed all over it. Shit, the fabric highlight your curves, you look fucking perfect right now. His jaw clenches and he resumes his previous position. You're frustrated with his lack of reaction, as much as you love to tease him, the fact that he never snaps drives you crazy. He always looks like he's about to bend but he never does. Is he a gentleman in disguise ? Taking matter in your own hands you plant kisses all over his jaw you try to go further down until his hand grabs the back of your neck freezing you in place.

"What are you doing?" he grits through his teeth, losing patience.

"Whatever I want. Don't you think I saw you stare at my tits you pervert" you say, caressing his clothed cock, laying your head in his stomach.

"It's your stupid bikini" he says looking in your eyes

"Stupid ? I thought it was cute" you pout pushing on his chest to stand straight breaking his hold on you. "It doesn't matter, help me take it off" you add gathering your hair on one side to free your neck.

His hand goes from your thigh to your lower back up to the knot tying the bathing suit in your neck. His skin is so warm against yours, you close your eyes in delight. Sukuna sits up not wanting to miss a single moment of what is about to unravel. Pulling on the string softly the upper part of the bikini falls and your tits bounce free. Sukuna have been dreaming about this moment for so long he can't believe it, your skin look soft, he can distinguish tan line adorning your boobs, fuck he wants to eat you whole. He grunt your name and you open your eyes, his face is so close to yours. Admiring his features, you place a soft kiss on his lips, a try, you want to see his reaction. His breath intensifies, you give him another this time before you can break free, he's holding the back of your head to deepen the kiss. You moan into his mouth finally, getting what you want. His free hand goes to your chest and kneads at your boobs, pinching your sensitive nipples.

Eager to touch him too, you let your hand slide under his swimsuit , gripping the base of his cock, he's already half hard, you can feel the pent up frustration in the way he touches and kisses you. You start slow stroking motion and he moans into the kiss. You can already feel your pussy getting wet. Sukuna breaks the kiss and he looks hungrier than ever, his eyes are so dark, his lips shine from the heated kiss you shared. Lowering his gaze he looks at your small hand around his shaft and curses under his breath. Laying your body on the mattress he starts to full on biting at your flesh, no area is spared, your shoulder your neck, tits, tummy and thigh.

"Mine" he grunts between each bite.

You moan feeling more wanted than you ever have been. His teeth pull the string of the lower part of your bikini and you're naked in front of him. He takes a second to admire you, in your simplest attire. He groans and hides his face in your soft tummy, he nuzzles in it, kissing and licking at your skin. Going lower he wastes no time capturing your clit in his mouth sucking noisily on it, he moans like a starved man against it and the vibration makes you arch your back off the mattress.

"Sukuna, god" you pant, griping on his hair. His tongue is so precise against your sensitive bud you can already feel yourself getting close. "Stop please, I want to come on your cock" you beg closing your thigh around his face. Getting on his feet he looms over you nodding his head, you never saw him like that he looks high holding your face he rests his forehead against yours.

"I'm going to make you feel good doll hm?" he coos, locking your legs around his waist.

You nod, impatient to feel his cock ruining your insides.Sukuna plants a sweet kiss on your lips and you can taste your own arousal. He fists himself a few times before entering your pussy in one go. Your eyes shut close at the stretch, you dig your nails in his arms.

"God you're perfect, so tight for me my little dove." he purrs, ramming slowly into you. He makes you feel so safe and loved, you relax in no time.

"Fuck Sukuna you feel so good" you moan

"I know my love" he pants kissing you, messily this time, his tongue exploring your mouth; licking at every part of it. You can tell he's been wanting this for a long time too. His thrust fills you with pleasure as he reaches your most sensitive part, His repeated assault on your g-spot makes you clench around him. He howls in pleasure, his head going backward. Soon he folds you into a mating press in a way you can only take his cock and moan out loud like an animal in heat.

"Say that you're mine" he growls gripping hard on your hips. A bit out of it you just nod your head. Not pleased at all Sukuna takes you jaws in his hand forcing you to look at him "Say it" he whispers.

You feel the tears welling up in your eyes ``I'm yours Sukuna, always been" you cry kissing the palm of his hand. Saying it out loud makes you feel weak but the way he looks at you... He's hungry and looks proud for you to be his. A knot forms in your belly ready to snap under his ministrations. Satisfied with your answers he dips his head in your neck pounding onto you until your legs trash around him in your release. You're a moaning mess as he continues to ram inside of your sensitive cunt chasing his own high. A moment later you feel his warm seed tainting your insides. Sukuna collapses on top of you breathing heavily.

You caress his back as you already came down from your high. Sukuna shifts your bodies so you're both on your sides facing each other. Tired, you smile at him tracing the tattoos on his face. His eyes never leave yours, the silence is comforting until you break it.

"So was this better than to peek from a closet or a shower curtain?" you ask teasingly. The confusion displays clearly on his face. You knew he was there last night ? and back home the times he sneaks into your apartment ? but you didn't say anything ?

"What ? You didn't think that I wouldn't notice your presence ?" you scoff "I'm a woman who lives alone i'd be crazy to be that careless"

"So yesterday you let the door open for me ?" he asks dumbfounded. You nod tracing his lips with your thumb. "The underwear under the pillow was for me too?"

"Who else for? my dirty pervert" you giggle, kissing his lips.

So you've been playing with him all this time, you're as sick as him, you might just be his soulmate shit he's getting hard again.

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muxshwriting · 26 days

Text

like real people do

Spencer Reid x reader

summary: an undercover mission reveals some deep secrets between the two of you || warnings: general FBI talk (it's the murder-stabbing show, be real) || words: 844|| masterlist

"Reid and Y/L/N, you’re going undercover together to find our unsub. We know he’ll be at this club so keep an eye out for someone that matches the profile."

You and Spencer catch each others eyes and you smile softly. He smiles back. Maybe this won't be so bad...

You're look back in the mirror, looking at the dress you're wearing, your makeup and your hair. You mess with it a bit, curling pieces around your fingers, pulling others back and pinning them in place. The dress is shorter than you'd like and has a sheer section up the side. It makes you feel sexy, sure but it also is far more revealing than your usual work attire. Spencer is going to see you in this, the guy you've likes since two months into the job.

Calling it a day, you grab your purse and walk out of your bathroom. Emily is sitting on your bed, playing with her nails and waiting for you. She looks up as you walk in, wolf whistling.

"You look good Y/N."

"Really?" You ask. "It isn't too much or too little? What if-"

"Spencer will love it." Emile jested. "Don't worry."

A knock at the door stops your worrying as you walk to answer it. Spencer is standing on the other side. Except he's not dressed in his silly sweaters and his ties. He's in a ruffled white shirt and a jacket. He looks hot and you find yourself blushing before you can stop thinking about him.

He smiles and your heart swoons all over again. He looks you up and down, a small pink blush dusting his own cheeks. Without saying a word, you reach up and unbutton another button on his shirt so it doesn't look so neat.

"Now you're perfect."

"I- uh-" Spencer stuttered as he tried to speak. "You- You look great!"

"Thanks. You too."

He clears his throat. "Shall we go?" He offers you an arm and a shy smile. You take his arm gladly and let him lead you out the door.

The club is crowded but you find a table in the corner and plant you and Spencer behind it. His arm is lazily thrown around the back of you, pushing his shirt and jacket open even more. You tear your eyes away, looking for your unsub. The two of you sit in silence, sipping drinks and observing everyone as some danced and swayed to the music.

You lock eyes with a man standing stilted at the bar, his knuckles are white around his glass and he matched the profile perfectly. You break eye contact, moving your head to whisper in Spencer's ear. "By the bar, eleven o'clock."

You watch as Spencer's eyes scan the bar until he sees the same man you did. He's not looking directly at you anymore but he's still glancing in the general direction, keeping you in his peripheral. Spencer texts Garcia, who's watching through cameras and she gets to work.

The unsub's eyes are back on you again, this time glancing down at Spencer's phone and narrowing his eyes.

"Kiss me." You whisper softly.

"What?"

"Like real people do," you beg. "Just kiss me."

He takes no less than a second to crash his lips into yours. They fit together perfectly, melting the worry in your brain. He tastes sweet, like the jelly beans you know he's hiding in his jacket for you when you get hungry. It's heaven for a moment before he pulls away and you're brought back to reality.

But his hand stays on your thigh and he presses his forehead to yours as he catches his breath. You quickly glance over his shoulder at the unsub. He's not looking anymore but he has gotten up and stood closer.

"I love you." You whisper.

Spencer's eyes snap to yours as his eyebrows knit together. He moves away from you, adjusting his jacket and letting out a shaky breath.

Inside, you're terrified that you've ruined everything so you calmly gather your things and stand up. Spencer watches you leave, throwing down cash and rushing after you, following you into the night.

A week later, Spencer finally manages to corner you by the coffee machine.

"Hey, can we talk?"

You slowly nod, dreading every word.

"When you said 'I love you' was that for the mission or-?"

Your eyes widen. "For the mission! Yeah. Definitely for the mission."

Spencer speaks slowly. "If it wasn't or the mission, hypothetically, I would ask you to say it again so I could reply the way I should have."

Hope flares in your chest as you look at him. "I love you."

He doesn't say anything, only surging forward once again to kiss your lips. Fireworks that you buried explode in a flurry of light as your heart beats even faster in your chest.

"I love you." He quietly says. "I've waited years to tell you, always afraid of your answer."

Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do.

likes and reblogs are always appreciated! feel free to check out my other works x

taglist: @aoi-targaryen

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #muxsh #muxshwriting #like real people do

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envysparkler · 16 days

Text

ambushes

Dick started it.

In his defense, his replacement was a twelve-year-old who looked like he was nine, and Dick overcompensated when he grabbed Jason’s arms and swung with far too much force for the surprisingly light frame.

Dick had meant to twirl him. Get that annoyed scowl off his face, because Jason could imitate a storm cloud like no one’s business, but when he blushed his whole face turned as red as a fire truck.

It was practically Dick’s brotherly duty to tease the kid, and the cuter his little replacement was, the less Dick’s stomach felt like clawing itself apart, so.

He’d been intending to twirl the kid.

But his grip was too loose and his force too strong and Jason slipped out of his grasp with a yelp as Dick sent him flying.

Thankfully, his trajectory was met with a couch.

Jason clawed himself out of the cushions, spitting mad, his cheeks turning pink, and Dick laughed.

It was hilarious. Jason’s dark glare promised revenge, but Dick was the older brother, and Jason was a whole foot shorter than him.

Dick ruffled the kid’s hair as he passed by, still grinning.

~#~

Jason continues it.

Jason continues it with Damian because the League’s where he learned it – Bruce never let them train in the Manor, and Jason had never been stupid enough to drop his guard on the streets. But the League, yes, it had been a home once, but never a safe place, not when tests and traps and tricks lurked around every corner.

Damian’s eased away from that ever-present state of alertness. Dick’s trained it out of him with praise and cuddles, most likely. Just makes Jason’s job all the easier.

He stalks down the corridor silently – Titus gives him a look but doesn’t bark, the dog is far too trusting – and, when he gets close enough, attacks.

An arm around Damian’s chest, trapping his arms, and another clamped over his mouth before Damian can even think to struggle.

Damian stills, and then twists a wrist, and there’s a knife poking somewhere Jason does not want it to poke.

Eased out of hyperawareness, but you don’t forget your instincts, not if you’ve been raised by the League of Assassins.

“If I’d been trying to kill you,” Jason whispers, “You’d already be dead.”

The knife pokes harder as Damian spits enraged, incomprehensible sounds against his hand.

“Just proving a point, demon brat.”

He lets Damian go and moves for the knife in the same instant that Damian turns on his heel – it’s easy work to disarm the kid, twirling the knife as he grins down at a furious child.

“You’ve forgotten who you are,” Jason hums idly, tapping the flat of the blade to Damian’s head and leaving before the demon brat can come up with a suitable threat in his speechless rage.

~#~

He sees the new Batgirl – he thinks she’s Batgirl right now, anyway, Babs seems to enjoy playing musical chairs with that thing – sprawled out on the couch like it’s her own home, like she isn’t mooching off a billionaire that she regularly insults.

It’s things like this that make Stephanie Brown his favorite vigilante. She has the same awe for Batman as she does for a roadside weed, she somehow managed to win reluctant approval from Damian, she drags the Replacement out of his hidey-holes, and she’s Cass’s favorite.

Considering that Cass is Bruce’s favorite, it’s another blow to the old man.

She registers him leaning against the doorframe, and tenses.

It isn’t a big thing, she’s still staring at the TV screen, but it’s obvious she’s tracking him as he gets closer.

So Jason makes no attempt to hide it. Just gets close enough, and lunges.

Steph immediately scrambles out of the way, and Jason has to boost himself over the couch to catch her – he catches her shoulder and takes her down, using every drop of his weight advantage to pin her to the ground, arms above her head.

“Jason?” she asks warily, tracking his eyes as she tests his grip.

“Stephanie,” he mocks in her hesitant tone.

Steph’s eyes narrow. “Get off me, you asshole,” she snaps, twisting her hips – forcing him to either let go or use a lot more force to keep her down.

Jason chooses to let go, straightening back up and staring down at the wary teenager. He grins, and offers her a hand up.

Steph takes it, still suspicious – but her suspicion doesn’t save her from being dumped head-first onto the couch.

“Jason!” comes the muffled cry as he saunters out of the room, “You bastard!”

~#~

The Replacement, surprisingly, is the easiest to ambush.

Jason maybe expected slightly more self-preservation from the kid – Jason’s legitimately tried to kill him two times, after all – but Tim clearly falls into the same trap as Damian.

The Manor’s home, thus it must be safe. No matter how many formerly-undead previously-psychotic killers have keys.

All Jason has to do is wait for the kid to step out of the study, his gaze fixed on his tablet as he mutters something under his breath, before reaching out and snatching him.

The Replacement is short and light, two things that make it easy for Jason to carry him, especially when the kid goes startlingly limp at the sight of Jason’s face.

He doesn’t even protest when Jason snags the tablet from his hands and sets it down on one of the side tables.

The pliant meekness is almost worrisome, if it wasn’t what Jason wanted in the first place. He carries Tim all the way to his room, rolls his eyes at the absolute mess, tucks the wilting – and sleep deprived, Jason was counting – teenager into bed, and pretends he doesn’t see the wide eyes as he turns to leave.

He pauses on the threshold. “If you leave the bed, I will hunt you down,” he promises, and makes no attempt to hide the threat in his voice.

Tim ducks underneath the covers.

~#~

Cassandra Wayne is, no doubt, the most formidable of his opponents. He cannot sneak up on her. He cannot even try.

Well, no, he can certainly try, which is how he ends up wearing the contents of a water bottle as Cass blinks down at him from on top of a bookshelf.

Jason sighs, eyes the bookshelf, and pretty quickly decides that it won’t be able to hold his weight.

“I’ll get you one day,” he warns before leaving.

~#~

“No, Jay, Jay,” Dick clutched Jason’s shoulders, failing horribly at hiding his grin as Jason rounded the edge of the deck, “I swear, Little Wing, don’t you dare –”

“I think you need to cool off,” Jason laughed, and tried to pry Dick off.

“Not getting rid of me that easily, Jaybird,” Dick said, holding on tighter.

Jason considered him for a moment, before his face split into a wide, devious smile. Dick had just enough time to think uh oh before Jason sprinted the last few steps and jumped into the pool. Dick yelped, but there was no time to disentangle himself before they hit the water.

“Told you I’d get revenge,” Jason grinned.

#my snippets #jason bullying his siblings #dick started it

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afro-hispwriter · 5 months

Text

In the Past(2)

Somewhere between post-season 10 but pre 11

Summary- Will Daryl win you back?

Warnings- language, Leah is implied, fingering on the counter, unprotected sex, creampie, Doggystyle, emotions

Word count- 2.8k

1 2

*REPOSTED*

"You should ask her to dinner." Says Carol as she and Daryl walked back to the bike.

"Why?"

"So you can win her back dummy, invite her and Archer over for a simple dinner."

"I'on know how to cook." Mumbled Daryl and Carol laughed.

"I'll cook for you, you just have to do the talking."

"What's the point she might not even want me back."

"Hey, she still loves you, I know that for a fact, and also far as I know she's single." Carol elbowed him and he scoffed.

"Fine, simple dinner."

"Simple, and try and talk to her, you never know what can happen."Carol winked at him and he shook his face to hide the blush.

They made it back to Alexandria and Daryl could feel the nerves already starting.

"Hey let me know when." Carol goes off and Daryl nods. He looked down the road and he saw Archer playing with RJ. He then saw you sitting on the steps to your house with a book in your hands, occasionally looking up to watch the kids. He wiped his hands on his jeans. He began walking over to you when something colorful caught his eyes. He looked over to see flowers growing, he bent down to pick a few not bothering to cut off the roots.

You saw Daryl approach from the corner of your eyes and you looked up.

"Hey." You said and placed the book on your side and stand up.

"Hey." Says Daryl and does his little wave at you. He then holds out the flowers to you making dirt flu everywhere. "Sorry." You smile at him and take the flowers.

"Thank you."

Archer looked to see who you were talking to and his eyes immediately lit up.

"Daddy!" He yells and Daryl leans down to catch his son as he runs towards him.

"Hey kid, ya miss me."

"Yes." Archer hugs him tightly but his neck and Daryl opens his eyes playfully at you in a plead for help.

"Ok sweetheart don't kill your dad."

"Sorry." Daryl chuckles and sets him down.

"It's ok." He runs back to RJ and continues playing.

"Did you want to take him tonight?" You ask Daryl pulling him back. He gulps and shakes his head.

"I can but I wanted to ask if you two wanted to come for dinner tonight or tomorrow." You looked at him

in confusion when he said that.

"Dinner?"

"An innocent dinner." He says and you nod.

"It's okay, and we would love to." Daryl felt relief wash over him. "Tomorrow though, it's already a little late."

"Ya any time you can."

"Tomorrow then." You smile and so does he. God damn, you were beautiful, he really hopes you'll be together again.

"See ya." He backs up awkwardly and leans down to ruffle Archer's hair. "See ya tomorrow bud."

"Bye, daddy."

Daryl left and you watched him go, flowers in your hand.

"Archer, Rj let's go inside before the mosquitoes come out."

Morning came and you immediately got up so Archer wouldn't come complaining to you that he is hungry. You walked into the kitchen, noticing the flowers you put in a vase. You were about to start breakfast when a knock came to your door. You looked through the peephole and saw Carol. You opened the door and greeted her.

"Morning Carol."

"Morning, how are you?"

"Good, good, just going to make Archer breakfast."

"I'll help you, and we can talk."

"I appreciate it"

You got to working on breakfast when all the kids started waking up. They greeted Carol and started playing around.

"So, did Daryl come to talk to you yesterday?" Carol asks, but she already knows the answer. He went straight to tell her that you agreed. And even if he didn't exactly show it he was happy, very happy.

"Wait are you the one who told him to ask me to dinner?" You raise an eyes brow at her and she shrugs.

"He still loves you." Those words shocked you. "He wants you back, he just needed a little push."

"Carol-." You started but she cut you off.

"He told me why you broke up, and when I asked if he would take you back he said he would. And you know Daryl doesn't lie." You sat down and sighed. "And I think you still love him too."

It was true you still love him.

"Carol, who knows if that woman is still alive and if she is and one day she shows up and he- I just can't go through that again." Carol nods in understanding and stands up to start grabbing ingredients.

"I understand, but I know he won't leave you again or Archer." She saw that you were in deep thought and smiled.

"Alright think about it later let's get these kids breakfast."

Night came by quickly, your nerves were everywhere.

Just a simple dinner... right? Did you want it to be? No.

You got Archer ready and made your way to Daryl's house. You knocked on the door and it opened immediately revealing Daryl.

"Hey." He says and moves out the way to let you both in.

"Daddy I'm hungry." Says Archer and hugs his leg, greeting him.

"Dinners ready." Daryl ruffles his hair and you smile. You all walk to the kitchen, Archer crawled into a chair, and Daryl ran to pull back a chair for you to sit in. You served Archer a plate and his eyes widened. Once the plate was set in front of him he dug in and you got to work on yours.

"This is really good." He says with his mouth full. You took a bite and nodded in agreement.

The dinner went smoothly. Archer did most of the talking all you and Daryl did, was sneak glances at each other. It felt natural, you missed it a lot and so did Daryl.

When dinner was done you volunteered to do the dishes.

"Ya ain't gotta." Says Daryl and tries to take away the plates.

"I don't mind, plus I don't think Archers ready to leave dog just yet." You point back to Archer playing with Dog.

"Then let me help you." He says and grabs the rest of the plates and brings them over to the sink. You began washing the dishes together. Slowly you were shoulder to shoulder with each other. You turned your head and you caught a whiff of him, you could tell he showered and put on the cheap cologne you got him a few years ago. Daryl turned his head and looked down at you, smiling slightly.

"You smell good."

"Thanks, ya look good." You smile and bit your lip.

"Thank you." You say and a few seconds go by making an awkward silence. You finish the dishes and dry your hands off. "Daryl?" He turns around and raises his eyebrows.

"Need somethin."

"Um no, it's just Carol told me something this morning." You grab your fingers and look up at him. Daryl's heart was racing wondering what Carol told you. "She said you still love me." Daryl didn't say anything just looked down at his boots. "Is it true?" He nods.

"I wanted to tell you tonight but I guess Carol best me to it, wasn't really her place to tell."

"Ya, I guess not." You stayed facing each other trying not to look into each other's eyes. "I- I still love you too." If Daryl was shocked he didn't show it, all he did was take a big step towards you and slowly brought his hands up to your face, and caressed your cheeks.

"M'sorry for what I did."

"Daryl, I can forgive you but I will never forget." Daryl nodded and slowly pressed his forehead against yours. You then pushed your hand into his hair and tugged him towards you, sealing your lips. He tensed immediately but relaxed and placed his hands on your hips, pulling you in closer. He pushed you against the counter and pressed himself against you. He towered over you and licked your lips with his tongue.

"Sorry." He says and pulls back.

"Don't be sorry." You say and bring your hand to his chest and drag them up and down. You found the buttons to his shirt and undid them one by one.

"We don't-." You opened his shirt and brought your mouth to his chest and licked up all the way to his ear.

"Fuck me." You whisper and nibbled his ear. Daryl shivered then trailed a hand up to your neck and grasped it. You gasped and smile as he tightens his hand. He pushed your back against the counter and lifted your shirt. He undid your pants and pulled down your panties.

"I'll fuck you." He kissed down your belly, stopped at your hips, and swirled his tongue. He was getting closer and closer to your cunt. His breath fanned over your cunt and he moaned when he saw you twitch. His fingers traced up your thighs until he reached your fold and spread them apart. His nose bumped your cunt and you gasped.

Your wetness was leaking and that was when you felt something cold hit. Daryl spit on your cunt then pushed two fingers in making you arch and moan.

"Fuck." You say and smile. Daryl latched his lips on your clit and squealed. You heard your cunt squelching as he fingered you. "You're so good." He pushed his fingers up hitting the spongy area making your hips buck up. "Gonna cum." Your hand pulls at his hair making him growl. Daryl sped up his fingers and you choked on a gasp. He came out from between your legs and started kissing up to your body, never stopping his hand movements.

You came hard, grabbing his wrist which continued the abuse on your pussy. He pulled back his hand and he smirked when he saw your cum dripping down his fingers. He stuck the fingers in his mouth and swirled his tongue around them, moaning happily at the taste. You were out of breath as you watched him lick his fingers.

You hopped off the counter on wobbly legs when you heard a voice.

"Mommy, Daddy, I'm tired." You both look to see Archer rubbing eyes. Your eyes widened and you hid behind Daryl and crouched to grab your pants.

"Uhh." You say but Daryl raises his hand.

"I got ya buddy lets go to sleep he says and points up the stairs. Archer turned away and Daryl immediately turns and turns on the water to wash his hand with some soap. He was about to leave when you grabbed his hand to pull him back.

"Daryl meet me in your room." You say and undo his pants. You reached into his pants and were hit with his rock-hard cock. You bit your lip and squeezed him making him jerk his body. You pulled your hand back and walked past him making sure to drag your hand against his stomach.

That spurred Daryl on to put Archer to bed quicker. Archer was almost fast asleep when he got to the room. Daryl slipped his small shoes off and tucked him in.

"Goodnight kid." He says and kisses his head. Daryl practically ran out of the room to his.

He went down the stairs to his basement room and saw clothes on the ground. He looked up to see you, spread legs with your hand playing with your clit.

"Fuck." He mumbles and shreds his shirt off along with the vest. You look up at him and smirk.

"Daryl I need you inside of me." You whimper and close your legs. Daryl took long strides over to you and dropped his pants that were hanging on for dear life. You moaned snd pushed your breasts together. Daryl pushed your hands away and grasped them in his hands. He got down on his knees and took one in his mouth, slowly sucking. You moaned and threw your hair back, grinding yourself against the couch.

"Stop teasing." You moan out and shove his head away. Daryl watched you as you turned around. Face on a pillow with your ass up. "Please." You felt a smack against your ass making you jump and smile.

"Fuck I missed this." He says and stands up, grabbing his cock in the process. He moved his fist up and down before getting into position. Teasing your hole with the tip. He pushed in, inch by inch, filling you up completely. You let out moans as he stretched you out like it was the first time. His hips were against your ass and his hands were on your hips, slowly thrusting back and forth.

"Please." You said and Daryl grunted and leaned down over you. Kissing down your back and slapping your ass.

"I'll give ya what ya want." He says and pulls out completely before slamming himself back in. All you heard in the room was skin slapping and your moans. Daryl occasionally grunts and bites your skin. The tip of his cock pushed something devastating inside of you, making your toes curl.

Daryl felt you clench around him and he groaned. You came again, slowly bottoming out on the couch. Daryl growled and flipping you over onto your back and grabbed your legs to rest on his shoulders. He pushed back into your sensitive pussy making you buck up against him. He leaned forward, pushing your thighs to touch your chest.

"So-So good." You blabber out and grip the cushions. Daryl looked down at your bouncing breasts that never went back to their original size after you gave birth. He kissed you hard, shoving his tongue in while you moaned. His hands grabbed the back of your thighs and pulled away from your lips.

"Imma cum in ya." He says and pushes himself all the way until he hit your cervix. You gasp at the sudden discomfort but it's taken over by pleasure. "So god damn tight." His hips stopped moving and he pushed in balls deep as he came. The hot ropes of his cum spilling inside of you triggered another orgasm. Your legs fell to his waist and he leaned forward to kiss you lovingly.

Daryl pulled out and watched his cum drip out of you. He pushed it back in with his finger making you moan. He pulled them out and brought them up to your mouth. You wrapped your lips around his finger and sucked his and your cum off. Pulling your lips off you then sat up and pushed him down so he was in a sitting position. You climbed into his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck while he rested his hands on your waist.

"Daryl." Say and he looked up at you with love. "I want to try again, but I need to know." Daryl kissed your shoulder and gestured for you to continue. "I need to know, that if that woman shows up again, you won't leave me or Archer. I know I left you but I had to, our son didn't deserve to grow around parents who fight all the time." You dig your face into the crook of his neck and inhale his scent.

"I know, I ain't mad at ya for that. And I promise I won't leave you, both of you." He says and pulls back.

"It's in the past what more can we do? But does this mean we can try again?" You ask and lay down on the couch. Daryl slides in next to you so your chests were touching.

"If you'll have me." He says and you smile up at him. Your hands went up to his face and kissed him.

"I love you." You mumble against his lips.

"I love you too." He says and pulls away completely. "We gotta sleep, talk more in the mornin." He wraps an arm around your body and you rest your head on his chest.

"Goodnight, my love." Daryl felt his heart burst. He truly didn't think you'd take him back at all, he didn't even think nothing of what happened just happened.

"G'Night."

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon

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