#and realised that this man takes barely any time to warm up to people | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thetriumphantpanda · 4 months

Text

baby, it's cold outside | joel miller

Summary | Patrolling with Joel is always easy, he's your friend after all, but when a snow storm forces you to stop halfway, you're both faced with feelings that you'd both rather ignore, but with nothing but time, talking about them is your only option.

Word Count | 4.2k

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Warnings | Explicit 18+. A snow storm and a cabin with a nice, warm fireplace. Unspecified age gap. Explicit smut - unprotected PiV (don't do this, pls be smart), oral sex (F), size kink if you squint, dirty talk, two idiots who love each other, some negative feelings towards the holidays but nothing else I can think of!

Authors Note | A huge thank you to the wonderful @hellishjoel for setting the 12 days of Pedro up and asking me to take part - this was so much fun to put together and I hope you all love it as much as I do!

12 Days of Pedro Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Thank you to the wonderful @saradika for the divider!

Despite having lived in Wyoming for years now, the winters were still a surprise to you. Icy cold winds, frosted windows every morning, thick downfalls of snow almost daily and a struggle to get warm no matter how many layers you wore. Some would call it picturesque, and you suppose you could see it, everywhere you turned in Jackson at this time of year, even though it was against the backdrop of the end of the world, it looked like it could adorn the cover of any Christmas card or be the setting for any Christmas movie. It didn’t matter, because you hated it either way.

When the tree went up in the centre of town, and the lights got switched on, it only served to remind you how solitary you were. How you existed mainly entirely on your own. No family, barely any friends, always the talk of the gaggle of girls who would whisper to each other whenever you passed and start laughing to each other, or the boys who always wondered why instead of hanging around with people your own age, you opted to spend it alone, or with someone who was pushing sixty.

Because if there was a single person in this Godforsaken town that you could class as a friend, it was Joel Miller. Quiet, closed off, unapproachable until you chipped away at his hard exterior, just like you in so many ways, it was actually sickening really. You liked Joel, ever since Tommy had put you two together for patrols when Maria had given birth, it was like you’d found someone who finally understood your need to be alone.

Patrolling outside the walls gave you peace, let you leave your loneliness behind for a while, just you and the ground beneath your boots, the feeling that you were doing something wrong, were less of a person because of your lack of friends and relationships left behind at the gate. You’d proven yourself capable more than enough times for Tommy to realise you were an asset. You’d saved more than enough people with your good aim and quick trigger finger, been ruthless in getting rid of raiders who strayed too close to your safe haven, and he knew your need for solitude, which is why he trusted you on these longer routes, on the more complicated patrol rotations, the ones that would get you out of Jackson for a week.

You surmise that’s probably why he chose to pair you up with Joel. In the two years you’d patrolled together, you’d come to realise that he needed that solitude just as much as you did. A way to leave behind being a father at the gate and remind himself of exactly who he was before. Out here, walking side-by-side next to you, he wasn’t Ellie’s dad, he wasn’t the man who still woke up in cold sweats remembering the heavy weight of his dead daughter in his arms, or that man who had lost almost everyone he’d ever cared for along the way, he was just Joel. Joel, who was more comfortable cradling a rifle in his arms than he was his infant nephew. Joel, who preferred comfortable silence instead of filling the quiet with talk. Joel, who, even when you suspected he hated you at the start, would have protected you to the death no matter what.

You were similar, far more than you’d like to admit, and as the weeks and months had drawn on, and you’d moved into being more comfortable with each other, he really was one of those things you’d wanted for so long. A friend. Someone to rely on, someone to drink with at the end of a hard patrol route, someone who made sure you ate when it was the last thing on your mind, someone who fixed the hole in your roof and put new planks of wood on your porch when you almost fell through it one day, someone who confided in you about how hard he found being a parent again, someone who opened up to you when things started to sour with Ellie. A friend.

He was also someone, in the last six months, that you suspected wanted to be more than your friend. It had started small, with things any good friend would do. He would offer you his arm when you walked during the winter so you wouldn’t slip, started packing double lunch so he knew you’d eat when you’d go out together, but then it was the hand on the small of your back through town, or the way he’d sit close to you in the bar, knees knocking against yours just so he could put a hand on your knee to apologise for getting too close.

And it’s not like you didn’t see that in him either. For a man who was almost sixty, he was incredibly handsome, able to do unspeakable things on patrol that neither of you would talk about to anyone else, strong in a way you didn’t think you’d ever seen before. Sure, his hearing was shot in one ear, his middle soft with age, and his hair and beard peppered with grey hair, but Joel Miller was a sight.

But, what if you’d read his signals wrong? What if his kindness and that warm hand on your knee was just him being a Southern gentleman? You throw yourself at him and he doesn’t feel the same, what happens then? You lose one of the very few friends you’ve ever had, and that’s somehow worse than knowing you’ll never know what the feel of his skin is like under your touch or what it sounds like when he moans your name for you.

The patrol route is brutal this day, wind and snow making it hard to see anything in front of you. You and Joel had to shout loudly to each other in order to hear anything, so when you stumble across the cabin, halfway through the route, you both decide that it’s best to head inside, get warm and wait out the worst of the storm before carrying on. Safer that way, is what Joel said, but you think it’s got more to do with the cold on his joints than the safety. Even at your younger age, your bones were certainly aching.

The wind whips a flurry of snow into the abandoned cabin when Joel pushes the door open, ushering you inside quickly, shutting the door quickly behind the two of you before more snow can follow you in. He sets his rifle down near the door and his backpack on the worn, moth-eaten couch, kneeling in front of the fireplace.

This particular cabin is a regular stop on this patrol route, an agreement between the residents of Jackson who frequent it to keep it stocked with firewood during the cold season. You silently note to thank whoever had patrolled before you for stacking the fireplace so all Joel really needs to do is set fire to the scrunched paper dotted through the wood to get the warmth of the fire flooding the small front room.

“Reckon we’re here for the long run,” Joel grumbles, holding flat palms up to the flames to warm his hands, “Ain’t no way we’re walking anywhere in that.”

And he’s right, the light of the day is fading fast and even in daylight, the blizzard had been a nightmare to traverse. It’s not like you’re wanting to rush back though, you sometimes wish you could pack everything up and come out here for good, live in your solitude until the end of your days, but for now, just a few more nights away from the place that reminds you just how alone you are will do.

You settle down on the couch, trying to burrow further into the coat around your body, not bothering to take your gloves or your hat off until the flames of the fire are stronger.

“Come sit closer,” Joel murmurs, motioning with his hand for you to sit on the floor next to him, “Warm up a little.”

You slip down from the couch and scoot along the floor until you’re sat next to him. Joel reaches over and takes hold of your wrist, gently pulling off your glove, “They’re damp,” He states, reaching for your other hand to do the same, “Take your coat off too, you’ll get a chill otherwise.”

Working to unzip the front to pull it off, whilst Joel throws an extra few pieces of wood on the fire, you settle a little bit closer to the flames, feeling the warmth start to seep through your other layers. He stands, taking your coat and his, hanging them on either end of the fireplace to dry out a little, then he sits back down next to you, although a little closer than he had been before, so close that you can feel the heat of his body next to you.

You take a moment to steal a look up at him, his body larger than yours, towering a little next to you, but in the glow of the flames he’s fucking breathtaking. You get lost in tracing his jaw and the hook of his nose with your eyes that he’s turning his head to face you before you can turn away from him. He catches you with that small smile that is saved only for his family normally, Ellie, Tommy, sometimes Maria, and now, more often, you. So you smile back at him, let the warmth lick through your body, and before you realise it, he’s leaning his, broad shoulders bumping yours as his face gets closer, and God, it would be so easy to let him do it, move your face towards him, press your lips to his and burn it all to hell, but as he inches closer, that pit is opening in your stomach, bubbling anxiety and dread, so as he inches closer, you have to stop him.

You bring one of your fingers up to press against his lips gently, watching as he purses them against your touch a little, but then his eyes open when you speak, so softly, so quietly that he almost missed your plea, “Please don’t.”

It’s like you’ve burnt him with the way he not only drags his face from you, but his whole body, putting so much distance between the two of you that you almost cry. He clears his throat, running his hand over his face, “Right,” He mumbles, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” You insist, not meeting his eyes though, “You don’t need to be sorry.”

“Stupid of me,” He shakes his head, “Just thought-” He sucks in a breath and pushes it out on a sigh, “Thought maybe you’d feel the same, but it was stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid, Joel,” You sigh, finally turning to him, “It’s okay.”

“Makes sense,” He shrugs, eyes boring holes into the flames in front of you, “I’m old, too old for you to want me.”

“It has nothing to do with you being too old for me Joel, I couldn’t give less of a fuck about that.”

You expect him to drop it, like he often does with these kinds of conversation, the ones that involve feelings, but he doesn’t.

“Then what is it?”

“Well, it has nothing to do with your grey hairs or your creaky fucking knees, that’s for sure.”

He’s looking at you with a look that says to get fucked, hurry up, tell him the real reason for all this.

“I could be shit in bed for all you know.”

“Well that’s easy to rectify, just need a little practice.”

It makes you snort, “Can we be fucking serious for a minute, Miller?”

“You’re the one who said it first.”

“What happens when it goes tits up?” You ask, “When you get bored of me, or realise I’m not what you thought I was, what happens then?” He opens his mouth to respond to you, but you beat him to it, “I lose my best friend, that’s what happens, the only person in this Godforsaken world that I have, and I don’t want that, I don’t want a world where I’m without you.”

“Who says it’s going to go tits up?” He counters, “Baby, I’m old, I ain’t gonna go running off, I just want somethin’ good, somethin’ happy, and I want that with you,” Just like you had done before, he starts talking again before you can add something, “Put your faith in somethin’, darlin’,” He’s moving back towards you now, shifting closer, “Put your faith in, me.”

It sounds so easy when he says it like that, because you had once before, without even realising. Let him in, let him get close, to know everything you’d been through, share everything he’d been through. You let him sit with you late at night in the summer, strumming his guitar on your porch, he lets you share his whiskey when you need it.

“I’m still gonna be your best friend,” He urges, that warm palm resting on your knee, “That ain’t gonna change, we’re just gonna add to it.”

And for some reason, it snaps, all of your good judgement and everything that was holding you back. His face is cradled in your palms before you know it, your body straddling his lap as your mouth slants over his, a surprised gasp swallowed by your mouth as his lips open against yours, his hands coming to rest on the globes of your ass through your jeans, pulling you closer, chest flush to chest as you soak this in.

Hands dropping to the collar of his shirt, you start to slowly unbutton it, mouth still against his, tongue tasting him as your fingers push button after button through their holes until you can push it from his shoulders, drag his arms from it, drag his undershirt from it’s place tucked into his jeans.

Joel gasps when your hands make contact with the skin under it, fingers still slightly icy from the cold, but that too is swallowed by your mouth, as is the moan that drags from your throat when he bucks his hips into yours.

He pulls away from your lips, forehead pressed to yours as you both breathe deeply, “Don’t seem shit in bed so far.” He chuckles.

“I was fucking with you Joel,” You smile, punctuating it with a roll of your hips into his, “I’m a delight in bed.”

“Prove it.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“This is the floor Joel,” Which earns you a squeeze to your ass, “I’ve never fucked someone on the floor before.”

Before you know what’s happening, he’s flipped you over, your back pressed to the dusty wooden floor, his body looming over yours, fingers picking the button of your jeans apart, pulling the zipper down, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down your legs, underwear along with them too, before they’re thrown behind him somewhere, forgotten as he parts your knees, legs spread, exposed to him, and you think you might die from the way he looks at you. You bury your head into your shoulder, trying to escape his gaze as he drags his thumb along your folds, growling when he feels how wet you are just from his mouth on yours.

You’re vaguely aware of the sounds of his feet hitting one of the armchairs behind him as he lowers his chest to the floor, hands pulling at your hips, your back dragging across the wooden floor as his mouth presses a single, feather-light kiss to your clit. The smallest of touches to your body has your back arching into him.

How long has it been? Not since you fucked someone, because in the grand scheme of things that hasn’t been too long. No, how long has it been since someone actually made you feel good? Years, you think. Too long. Too long since sex was anything more than just stress relief, pressed against the brick wall by the Tipsy Bison, letting someone fuck you so you could feel something, giving them the bragging rights of fucking the town outcast in return.

This is different. So different. Joel is slow with it, parting you in front of his face with his thumbs, tongue swirling through the slick you’re not even embarrassed about now, tasting you, drinking you in, before he drags his perfect mouth up, lapping gently at your clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Taste so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He coos against your skin, his praise making you preen, hips chasing the feeling of his mouth on you, he chuckles at your desperation, “How long’s it been since someone made you feel good, huh?”

Your fingers tangle in the curls on his head, dragging him back down to your cunt to silence him, “Too long.” Is all you offer as he feasts on you.

Tongue swirling, lips suckling, fingers digging into the skin of your hips, dragging you slowly but surely to the edge, the fire in your blood no match for the fire against your skin. He’s fucking good at this, knows exactly how to listen to your moans, the way you pull at his hair when he does something you like, collecting the little gasps and hip movements until he’s working a pattern on your pussy that makes you feeling like you’re going to explode, combust, maybe even die a little.

“Don’t stop,” You urge, breathless, sheen of sweat settling across what skin of yours is exposed to the flames near to you, “Gonna - fuck Joel - gonna cum.”

That’s when he pushes two of his fingers into you. Hooking them up inside of your cunt, your legs dropping open further than you thought possible as he works you and works you. You’ve gone quiet, letting out only short breathes when holding them in makes your head light, fingers so tight in his hair that you think it’s probably hurting.

Then, you think you find God, right there on the dirty, dusty floor, when the coil snaps inside of you. Your back arches off the floor, thighs clenched around Joel’s head as his tongue continues the flicks against your clit, ignoring the high-pitches whines of too much, Joel listening instead to the movement of your legs, the way your entire body convulses until you truly are spent for him.

Joel pushes himself up onto his knees, dragging his undershirt over his head, pulling his belt through its loops as you’re sitting up, dragging the upper portion of your clothes off, naked on the floor for him, the flames from the fire keeping you warm, even if your nipples do pebble and peak against the cold.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel breathes out as your hand settles on your pussy, fingers dragging through the slick to lazily move over your clit, “I wish you could see yourself right now, baby,” He crones, pushing down his jeans, cock springing free, immediately clasped in his fist, movements slow as he watches you touch yourself, “Pretty as a fuckin’ picture.”

His body falls forward, coverings yours, but this isn’t what you want. Hand on his chest, you’re pushing him back, “Wanna ride you, Joel.” You whine.

Like a kid on Christmas, he’s on his back in seconds, jeans and underwear pooled around his ankles because if you’re not sinking down on him in the next few seconds, he’s going to scream. You settle your thighs on either side of his hips, his cock, heavy and throbbing against his stomach. He’s watching you, as you take the base of him in your hand, line him up with that aching core of yours, head notching into you, where you just keep him for a moment, let him stretch you as you ground yourself with palms on his chest, sinking down, inch by inch until he’s fully buried inside you, warmth wrapping around him, just like the warmth from the fire against his skin.

You start moving your hips, his cock so deep in you he swears if he put a palm on your lower belly, he’d feel himself through your skin with the way you’re grinding against him, head thrown back, mouth dropped open. He wishes he could take a photo of this. He doesn’t think he’s seen a nicer sight in his life.

“It’s a lot, ain’t it baby?” He coos, hands on your hips, guiding your movements, he knows he’s big, been told enough times through his life, but the way you’re slow, getting used to him inside him, has him on the verge of spilling inside you already.

“So big, Joel.” You whine, leaning back now, hands on his knees which have moved up, his feet planted on the floor now, and God alive, if he thought you were a sight before, you’re a fucking masterpiece now as you start bouncing on his cock.

He can’t help himself, he is only a man after all, his hands trailing up the curves of your side, taking hold of your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers, listening to the way you sing for him. Somehow, he finds core strength from somewhere, pushes himself up, one hand behind him to prop him where he is, as his mouth sucks a nipple into his mouth, rolling that pebbled peak with his tongue, your arm wrapping around his shoulders to steady yourself against him, hips still working against his, finger tangling in the curls near his neck, keeping his mouth anchored right where it is.

Joel pulls off you, a wet smack from his lips as he looks up at you with those beautiful brown orbs, “Feel so fuckin’ good, baby,” He praises, “So tight around me, like you were made for me.”

“Wanna feel you,” You moan, head dropping against his shoulder, “Wanna feel you come for me.”

He’s wrapping his arms around your back, dragging you down with him as he rests himself back on the floor, your chest pressed to his as he finally takes control. Feet planted on the floor with your teeth digging into his shoulders, he fucks up into you, the cabin filled with nothing but breathy moans and a lewd smack of skin as he pounds himself into you. In an ideal world he’d focus on making you come again, feeling you clench around his cock as you fall apart would be incredible, but he thinks there will be time for that later.

He’s so fucking close, you can feel it, the way his fingers are gripping t every inch of skin they can reach, the way his hips are faltering and how your name is more of a feature on his lips. You let out a surprise squeal as he flips you both, your back now to the ground as his cock slips out of you, his fist replacing the wet heat of your cunt as the warmth of his cum splashes across your lower belly, a howl, not unlike an animal, falling from his mouth as he paints you, claims you as his own with those ropes of cum across your skin.

When all is said and done, and he’s taken in the sight of your skin splashed with his spend, the two of you lying in front of the fire, one blanket dragged from the bed on the floor to soften the harsh wood, another pooled around both your hips, this feels like home. Both you and Joel, led on your side, watching each other, and the flickering light of the fire bathes you both in orange, in warmth.

His hand traces your face, thumb dragging across your bottom lip as he leans in to kiss you. Hours later, with harsh wind and snow still swirling outside, he brushes a thumb across your nipple, your hand reaching down between you to find him hard again. He puts you on your back this time, creaky knees be damned, slides his cock into your aching cunt once more, fucks you slowly, the entirety of his weight pressed against you. That orange glow almost convincing you that this was before, when things were normal, romantic even, as his lips leaves tiny bruises across your skin.

When he’s marked you once more as his, cum splashed from your pussy to your tits, he lies back down, the broad expanse of his back to the dying embers of the fire, your back pressed to his front, his arm snaked under your neck, urging you to sleep, and as you drift off, Joel’s hot breath against the skin of your ear, his other arm draped loosely over your waist, you pray that the snow is just as bad in the morning, because if it were possible, you want to return even less now, want to remain huddled next to Joel, on the floor, for the rest of your life.

2K notes · View notes

igotanidea · 4 months

Text

Not enough: Anthony Bridgerton x reader

(Part 2 to too much)

„I am so terribly sorry for the inconvenience I might have brought on you with my sudden appearance-” she started while walking inside the place of her destination or, to put it more bluntly, after fleeting from her own house upon not-so-subtle fight with her still-husband.

„Y/n! Nonsense my dear, your presence is always welcomed here.” she heard in response and for the first time since the argument she managed to look into the eyes of another person as well as take in the scene in front of her.

Oh dear lord!

Her timing couldn’t be more wrong.

Apparently the only person who was missing from the widow viscountess Bridgerton household was the queen herself, since not only the lady of the house alongside with all her unmarried daughters were enjoying the afternoon tea, but - to Y/N’s very well hidden terror - the duchess and lady Danburry were present as well.

„duchess.” Y/N bowed in the most polite manner she could even though her knees were shaking „lady Danburry.”

Act like nothing happened.

Behave like a lady and not like a little kid, who came her to pour all her worries and tell on her husband who happened to be mean. The last thing she needed was for everyone to talk about her nervousness and giddiness. None of those ladies would be easily fooled and most definitely not lady Danburry with her nosy nature and piercing gaze.

The point was to visit her favourite sister-in-law Eloise who- luckily - were free of any marriage troubles and gain some perspective but that scenario flew away with the gentle summer breeze faster than Y/N could think.

And now she would be kindly invited to join the tea and the respect for widower viscountess alongside with the obligation to the higher positioned duchess (even if family) would forbid her from declining.

„Y/N.” Daphne sent her that tiny, quite shy smile that didn’t calm the nerves even in the slightest. Yes, the duchess was one of the most polite and subtle person in the society, but she was also happily married with another baby on the way.

„Viscountess Bridgerton.” the oldest, lady Danburry on the opposite was known from her sharp tongue and straightforward attitude. That one did not pull her punches.

„My dearest Y/N.” Violet Bridgerton, the mother in law stood up from her place and hugged the girl close. Obviously she was the most open one with her emotions. And the simple warm welcome made Y/n feel a bit strengthened to the point when she even gave a little smile. Tiniest, but honest and still visible.

„Is Anthony with you my dear?’

„Unfortunately my husband is absorbed with the matter of the household today.” Y/N explained, taking a seat next to Violet. „I was rather confused with all the men’s affairs, which brought me here.”

„confused?” Eloise, of whose presence everyone seemed to forget scoffed from her book „You are way smarter that Anthony is, Y/n!”

„Eloise!” her mother friendly scolded her second daughter

„It’s true mama!”

„Even though-’

„Did you come baring notices by any chance, viscountess?" lady Agatha cut into the family exchange innocently taking a sip of her tea, those sharp eyes of a predator glistening

„Notices?”

„Yes viscountess, notices. It;s been a fair amount of time since the marriage, surely something should happen soon between two people who are lucky enough to be in love as much as yo and the viscount?”

Oh...

Oh, she meant that kind of notices.

„May this be so, Y/n?” Daphne asked seeming uncharacteristically brisk. „shall we expect?”

„I certainly hope she won’t be burdened with the heir to the title any time soon--”

‘Eloise!”

„Is it the only purpose of a woman to be obedient to a man and give him children?!”

All the four older woman in the room went quiet and Eloise realised she might have had said a little bit too much. Not only for the lady but in general.

„I suppose our dearest Y/N would love to become a mother and bless us with the little boy or girl, am I correct?”

Of course I would love to, Violet.

I would love to.

Unfortunately so it happens your oldest son refuses to even speak or look at me, let alone performing his so-called marital duty. Which is even more tragic, since I became one to him. Here is the essence of my existence - forever being reminded of the burden I put on his shoulder with storming into his life.

Obviously those thoughts were something the newest viscountess Bridgerton could not form out loud.

„I shall send the regards to my husband ladies. Certainly will not omit to inform him of the expectation placed upon us both.” was the only thing she managed to say with confidence before her voice broke and she covered the sudden wavering by reaching for the sweet placed on the nearby platter.

„Oh my dearest Y/N, it’s no obligation!” Violet seemed quite hurt by the words spoken by her daughter-in-law „Regardless - a child is always a miracle that-”

„Maybe Y/N wouldn’t have to worry about it, if Anthony were taking more interest in her rather than spending time with Benny and Colin.”

„Eloise!”

„It’s just a simple observation! Benedict and Colin are still bachelors, even though the ladies of kind are sharpening their claws for them both, considering the fact the viscountess title is not longer available. Nonetheless, neither of them seem to be interested in taking in marriage-”

‘Eloise!” Violet called upon her daughter once more

„Perhaps if they weren’t spending their times in the club, effectively convincing Anthony to go with them--”

‘Enough, young lady!”

„But-”

„Enough Eloise.”

Y/N went pale at all the words spoken. Not because of their truthfulness, but due to the fact that the word already got out. This was a calamity she was trying her best to cover up and now her favourite member of the family announced them to the world, not thinking about the possible consequences of aforementioned action.

„Y/N, are you quite all right?” Daphne was the first one to take some action „that sudden pallor cannot be good for you. Shall we take a walk?”

Naturally the little stroll around the room will be something to make her feel better. Luckily the most perceptive Eloise noticed the torpid expression on the viscountess face and, not giving her sister any chance to press the matter further, vigorously explained that Daphne certainty meant an actual promenade outside on the manor grounds and that was something y/n was more than delighted to engage in.

Presenting a perfect opportunity to actually indulge in a meaningful conversation not regarding children and submission due to a woman.

***

On the other side of the city Anthony didn’t even notice his wife’s actual absence.

How could he, when she was always present and vivid in his mind, leaving him with her image in front of his eyes even when she was away from him.

Y/N’s face and silhouette, her smile and her resonant, joyful laughter were forever carved in his mind, ever since the day she laughed at him at the lake upon their first meeting, through the first moment of stolen forbidden intimacy, up to the moment looked into her eyes while vowing to love and to cherish her.

His beautiful bride.

His beautiful wife.

Strong willed, hot headed, always having an opinion of her own and doing things her own way, capable to charm everyone with the cheerful character and most natural humor and intelligence.

All the traits that could not be bought by any of the obedient, quiet and shy ladies from high society.

All the traits that put him under her spell and made him want to spend the rest of his life with Y/n.

Only with her.

And he didn’t want to fight, he wanted the same kind of marriage his own parents were joyful to share.

It was all so perfect, until the moment those bright memories got covered with storm clouds of how he behave towards her.

Not that the viscount gave them much thoughts, too lost in his own meaningless settlements that were not due till the fore-coming month.

It was easier this way.

Forgetting about all the words he said int he moment of anger and of fear (if not mere terror) of his own emotions.

Emotions that, unfortunately, refused to be closed in a hard shell of harsh, obsessive behaviour and being ignored.

Once let out, they wanted to run free.

And oh, so they did, causing the viscount to feel dizzy and giving him palpitations.

All the marriages had their bad moments.

It was impossible to continue for years keeping the same flame that started years ago.

The wife was supposed to be obedient and comply with her husband wishes, especially not bothering him with her presence and whimsical needs or fairy-tell beliefs.

A lady was a diamond in the crown but a wife became a part of the estate, of the livestock. Forever in her husband’s hand to rule.

He was the the man.

He was the viscount and before he met her she was just another long-forgotten by admirers débutante desperate to--

No.

No this was not true and as much as it would be comfortable for Anthony to dwell in all those thoughts, his heart was still in the right place giving him a very clear signal it was time to stop justifying his previous action. Those were the foundation for a very unstable and fragile house that could be blown away easily.

Maybe it wasn’t that his emotions were too much. Maybe it was that his heart capacity was not enough to contain the amount of affection he held for his one and only.

His Y/N.

And he couldn’t have that.

He had to find her wherever she might have been.

He had to fight for her and make it all right.

Even if that meant getting back on his knees, making a scene straight out of those unrealistic romance novels ladies loved and putting it into practice.

„Where on earth is my wife?!” he yelled to the servants, opening the door to his office, his voice loud enough to make the walls shake.

I’m coming for you, my viscountess.

My love.

***

It's not over yet!

Edit: part 3 : almost there

@pietrawebster @chrissisheadisinclouds @fuzzym4m4

@gloomysel @urfavnoirette @dd122004dd @milkbummm

@bevstofu @taniasethi @syraxnyra @cat-lockwood @pr3ttyfac3jaelyn

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fic #bridgerton angst

1K notes · View notes

7s3ven · 4 months

Text

ONE CUP OF COFFEE. theodore nott

( master list )

IN WHICH… Theodore Nott can’t stand the idea of actually falling in love but he finds himself questioning his choices after a series of rather comforting conversation with a Hufflepuff.

“Do you hate me so much that you can’t stand having one coffee with me?”

Warnings: Smoking, mentioning of throwing up, mentioning of weed, swearing here and there, mentioning of hooking (pretty tame for a Theodore Nott fic tbh

—

“One coffee. Black. No milk or sugar. Make it hotter than usual.” Theodore Nott wasted no time in repeating his order to the worker behind the counter. A new coffee shop had opened inside of Hogsmeade and in the Slytherin’s opinion, their drinks were better than any muggle one.

He tossed a few golden coins onto the table before walking away and taking a seat in a deserted corner. He liked to be away from people because despite being part of a popular Slytherin group and partying often, he wasn’t a social person.

The quiet lulling of muggle songs played around in the cafe, bouncing off the walls. Theodore pulled his turtle neck up higher, covering his bare skin from the cold air. It nipped at his slim fingers and he wished he had taken a pair of Draco’s Dior gloves now.

The rusted bell attached to the door dully rang as someone else entered. The cafe wasn’t too crowded. There were a few other students scattered here and there but not many people were willing to freeze just to grab a coffee.

Melted snow dripped off Theodore’s boots as his observant eyes followed the actions of the newcomer. He couldn’t tell what house she was in because she was wearing all white, but she definitely wasn’t a Slytherin. The girls clad in green and silver had a certain aura; an unfriendly, poisonous, and addictive one.

This girl radiated off sunshine and daffodils and basking in the warmth of a crackling fire. Theodore guessed she was in Hufflepuff because she had a certain charm to her bright smile.

“One cinnamon chai latte.” She ordered, kindly handing the cashier a few coins. She was practically the opposite of Theodore.

“Name?” The cashier asked, much comfortable in her presence as opposed to the Slytherin who sat a few feet away.

“Y/N.”

Her name jogged Theodore’s memory. She was the girl Lorenzo had been paired with in herbology. It was quite a long and dragged out assignment so whenever Lorenzo wasn’t hanging out with his friends, he was with her.

Theodore subconsciously sat up straighter and leaned forward to get a better look at Y/N. Lorenzo described her as a pretty and bright girl with a warm perspective on life. Instead of saying “what’s the worst that could happen?” She always said “what’s the best that could happen?”

Theodore was somewhat impressed by how positive a person could be.

He didn’t notice he had been staring until Y/N turned her head, innocent E/C eyes burning holes into his. Theodore almost jumped. He quickly adverted his gaze, clenching his jaw.

Out of the corner of his vision, he could see Y/N sit at the table beside him. She sat with her legs oddly crossed and her body was turned so she could look at him.

“Theodore Nott, right? Enzo’s friend?” Her voice was gentle, like a meadow full of daisies and glittering ponds of water.

Theodore thickly swallowed before he nodded. “Yeah. Lo’s talked about you. You were his partner for potions.” The brunette had never heard anybody call Lorenzo by Y/N’s nickname, but maybe that was because he didn’t allow anybody to call him that. Unless it was Y/N, of course.

The poor boy was smitten with her during fifth year but he shyly backed off when he realised he had too much competition. To this day, Draco was still trying to convince him to man up.

“He talked about me?”

“Only once or twice.” Theodore lied through his teeth. He may be a tease, but he refused to out his friend.

“The assignment we did was so annoying. I’m glad I had him as my partner. If it was anybody else, I would’ve gone mad.” Y/N signed and a small laugh slipped past her pink-tinted lips.

“You practically saved his herbology grades. Lo is smart but his plant knowledge is in the negatives.” Theodore huffed in amusement, his mouth curving into a sly smirk.

“He’s good with everything else, though.” Y/N uttered. Out of the whole Slytherin group, Lorenzo, Draco, and Pansy had the highest grades. Blaise couldn’t care less; he still scored pretty high but grades weren’t his whole life. And Matteo and Theodore, the players they were, didn’t even bother studying for exams.

“Black coffee.” The barista suddenly called out, making Theodore realise he had never given the worker his name.

“That must be your’s.” Y/N said, nodding over at the steaming drink. She smiled, which almost set Theodore’s heart alight. It was already drowning in gasoline and her damn grin may as well be the flaming match. “Theo?” She waved a hand in front of his face as he spaced out.

“Huh?” Finally, his blank eyes shifted to stare at her.

“Your coffee.” Y/N reminded him.

“Oh. Right. I’ll see you later.” Theodore was quick to stand up and grab his drink, the paper cup burning the palm of his hand.

“See you later, Theo!” Y/N called out, not seeming to notice his uneasy mood.

Theodore sped walked out of the coffee shop, holding a hand to his chest. His stomach sank as dread overwhelmed him.

Him and Matteo were like two peas on a pod. They shared the same habits too, like drinking their sorrows away and smoking until their lungs burned. And let’s not forget their infamous reputations as playboys. Theodore Nott didn’t do relationships so he refused to let a soft Hufflepuff change his mind.

Despite shoving down whatever warm feeling he felt when he was next to Y/N, Theodore couldn’t help but crane his head in search for a certain flash of H/C hair.

“Black coffee. Extra hot.” He muttered absentmindedly to the same cashier who had served him a week before.

“Name?” She asked, bored eyes gazing up at him.

“Theo.” He quickly replied, turning his head again when he thought he saw Y/N. He felt disappointed when it wasn’t her. The worker seemed to notice.

“Are you looking for that Hufflepuff you were talking to last time?” She questioned, arching a thin brown eyebrow. Theodore glanced down at her name tag that read Eulia.

“No.” He quickly denied her inquiry, wrapping his long Slytherin scarf tighter around his bare neck.

“She comes in every week around this time. She’ll be here soon.” Eulia said, glancing over Theodore’s shoulder to take in the growing line. She cleared her throat, reminding Theodore of where he was.

As usual, he threw some coins onto the countertop and walked away to the same table he sat at before. His head perked up when he heard the sound of familiar laughter.

Y/N walked in, waving good-bye to her Ravenclaw friend. “The usual, Y/N?” Eulia asked, already typing her order into the monitor.

Y/N practically bounced over to Theodore, taking a seat in front of him. “Hey, long time no see. I thought I’d see you at school but I guess not.”

“I was busy.” Theodore lied. In truth, he had been hauled up in his dorm and listening to Draco rant about Pansy.

“Doing what?” Y/N innocently tilted her head to the side, genuinely curious.

Theodore, as blunt and brainless as ever, blurted out the first thing he could think of. “Weed, drugs, and smoking.” He wanted to bash his head into the table. What kind of response was that?

Yes, he used to do all those things but he had toned it down. The only addiction he had was smoking now.

“I don’t know why I said that. It was the first thing that popped up in the mind.” He admitted, scratching the back of his head.

“I’m not judging you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Y/N laughed, “By the way, your cigarettes are about to fall.” She pointed to the packet that was lazily shoved into Theodore’s pocket. He quickly caught it.

“I don’t do weed or drugs anymore.” He uttered, “Just so you know.”

From the coffee machines, Eulia rolled her eyes. “Coffee for Theo. Cinnamon chai latte for Y/N.” She called out, placing the drinks down.

Theodore quickly stood up. “I’ll get them.” He offered, not waiting for a response.

“Smooth.” Eulia said as he grabbed the drinks.

“Cut me some slack. I’m used to hooking up with toxic girls, not chatting over coffee with a sweet Hufflepuff.” Theodore lightly scoffed.

“So, Theo, what do you want to do when you graduate?” Y/N asked as soon as he sat back down again.

He shrugged. “I don’t know.” In all his years of Hogwarts, he had never thought about it. “What about you?”

“I want to open a bakery.” Y/N said like she had been waiting the question to come up.

Theodore raised his eyebrows. “You like baking?”

“Yup! I’ll bake you something next week. Do you like chocolate?”

“Who doesn’t?” Theodore only knew one person who didn’t like chocolate, and that was Pansy. But to be fair, she had gotten food poisoning from spiked chocolate in third year.

It was safe to say that she spent most of that day hunched over the toilet while Matteo held back her hair and Lorenzo gently got her to drink water, which she threw up too but it’s the thought that counts.

“Great! I have to go now. I’m meeting up with another friend. See you at school, Theo!” Y/N effortlessly chugged her scorching hot drink. She slammed the cup against the table, grinning.

“What the…” Theodore was still trying to process what had just happened as he watched Y/N run out of the cafe and into the arms of her friend

The next week, Y/N arrived earlier than Theodore. He had been held up by Blaise, who was curious as to why he was visiting the same coffee shop three times in a row.

Theodore entered the store after managing to shake Blaise off. He shoved his hands into his pockets, shivering despite the atmosphere being warm.

Eulia, who seemed to be on duty every day, had already made his drink and placed it in front of Y/N. She was too busy doodling on his cup with a permanent marker to notice his sudden appearance.

“Cute outfit.” He said as he sat down, the legs of his chair scraping against the tilted floor. Y/N’s face visibly lit up at his small compliment. Theodore observed her pink sweater with little bows sewn on it and her short white skirt with fleece leggings lining her legs.

“As promised, your cookie.” Y/N slid the box over to Theodore, smiling. “I would recommend heating it up. A warm cookie is better than a cold and hard one.”

“Do you bake often?” Theodore asked, taking the box and letting it rest on his lap.

“I try to bake as much as I can. I like helping the house elves too.” Y/N began to fondly talk about her love for baking and as much as Theodore tried to focus on her words, his gaze wandered to a suspicious group huddled in the opposite corner.

Once Theodore looked past their dark sunglasses and large coats, he recognised them as his friends. He saw Draco shove past Pansy and he surely pointed at Y/N then at Theodore before slapped his hands together.

Theodore stared at him, puzzled. And it showed as he furrowed his eyebrows and frowned. Y/N didn’t seem to notice his wavering attention, much to his relief.

“Do you want to bake together sometime, Theo?” Y/N asked, bringing him back to their conversation. He felt a little guilty because he hadn’t heard another word of what she had said.

“Sure. Though, I don’t think I’d be much help. Matt and I tried making edibles once and we messed that shit up.”

From behind Draco, Matteo glared at Theodore. It was your fault, he mouthed. He wasn’t lying, Theodore had gotten just about every ingredient in the recipe wrong.

“Edibles?” Y/N tilted her head to the side.

“Weed brownies.” Theodore elaborated, “But that was last year. I don’t do that anymore, remember? I only party and smoke.”

“I know. You told me.” Her eyes crinkled when she smiled. Y/N’s gaze flickered to his packed of cigarettes that always looked like it was about to fall out.

“Would you like to come to a party with me?” Theodore asked, leaning forward. There was one in the Slytherin common room next week. Normally, people from other houses weren’t invited but if you had the right connections, you’d be let in.

“Parties aren’t my thing. I… don’t like the vibe. You know?”

“That’s fine. You ever tried smoking?”

“No. Cedric offered to teach me but I declined.” Y/N frowned at the lost opportunity.

“I’ll teach you.” Theodore said a little too quickly. He cleared his throat. “I mean, you keeping me company wouldn’t be so bad.” He grabbed his packet, sliding it across the table. “These are my good ones. Keep ‘em and whenever you’re having a bad day or just wanna have a smoke, find me. I’ll light one for you.”

From across the room, Matteo lightly gasped. Theodore never ever shared his good cigarettes with anyone, not even him.

“Really?” Y/N picked up the worn-out box, staring at it.

“Yeah. I gotta get going. My friends are probably wondering where I am.” Theodore, once again, lied through his teeth. He knew his friends had questions and he didn’t want to keep them waiting. He stood up, feeling Pansy’s gaze burn a hole through him.

“Enjoy the cookie!” Y/N exclaimed, grinning and waving him off.

Theodore smiled. “I’m sure I will, love.” He walked out of the cafe, his friends following close behind and bombarding him just like he had predicted.

“You clearly have some sort of feelings towards her.” Panay said as she poked the brunette beside him. All throughout breakfast, Panay had been trying to get Theodore to admit his growing affection for Y/N. He denied it every time.

“I don’t.” He said for the third time, leaning down to stuff some bacon into his mouth. As he quickly chewed, his gaze flickered to Y/N.

“You’re looking at her again!” Pansy exclaimed, huffing. “It’s so obvious you like her!”

“Where’s Lo and Draco?” Theodore changed the subject, realising the two boys were missing.

“You can’t change the topic. You like her and you know it.” Unfortunately for Theodore, Pansy was persistent. Maybe a little too much.

“Theo likes who?” Lorenzo tilted his head to the side in curiosity. The whole group, even Blaise who laughed at awkward situations, froze.

Nobody responded for a moment before Blaise put down his fork. “Y/N. He likes Y/N L/N.” Theodore glared at the boy, wondering why on hell he’d even tell Lorenzo the truth.

“… Oh.” Lorenzo didn’t say much as he sat down, glancing over at Y/N. “You’re not going to break her heart, right?”

“I don’t like her. End of conversation.” Theodore groaned, taking a huge gulp from his goblet.

“I don’t believe you.” Lorenzo uttered, pointing his fork at Theodore’s eyes, “Your eyes say it all. You keep looking at her every minute and when you do, your eyes soften.”

Pansy snickered, nudging Theodore. “Told you.”

“If you don’t like her, then you wouldn’t mind if someone else asked her out, would you?” Matteo piped up.

“You aren’t her type.” Theodore immediately replied, scoffing.

“We’re practically the same, Theo. If I’m not her type then you aren’t. She’s pretty and all but I don’t date. That guy, on the other hand, seems like he does.” Matteo pointed over to a Ravenclaw boy approaching Y/N. The whole Slytherin group watched as he nervously asked her something and when she slowly nodded, his face lit up.

Theodore clenched his hands into fists. “Did he just ask her out?” He seethed, clenching his jaw.

“You don’t like her, remember? You shouldn’t care.” As usual, Matteo had that same infuriating smirk on his face. “Anyway, what are we doing for the party tonight?”

Theodore had forgotten all about it. He faintly remembered Y/N saying parties weren’t her thing. Did she like guys who didn’t party? That Ravenclaw boy looked like he didn’t. Is that why she said yes?

“I’m not doing. Not really my thing.” He uttered, shrugging. His friends looked at him in disbelief.

“Not your thing?” Matteo stammered, “Mate, the only thing you do is party! What’s gotten into you?!”

“He’s trying to turn into Y/N’s ideal type.” Pansy snickered, “He knows he isn’t the blueprint and he can’t see her with anyone else so he’s improving himself.”

“Respect, bro. But what about Izzi?” Matteo motioned to the Slytherin girl down a few rows who was Theodore’s favourite hookup.

“I don’t care about her.”

“What about the drinks?”

“I need to cut my alcohol intake.”

“Smoking? You can’t give up smoking! You’re addicted!”

“Y/N has my cigs. When she wants to learn, I’ll teach her.”

“And if she never wants to learn?”

“Then I won’t pester her. Not smoking for a while might do me some good.” Theodore on the brink of giving up smoking for some girl was a huge deal.

Matteo leaned over to Draco, “Is he sick?”

Pansy lightly snorted and she teasingly grinned, “If you mean lovesick, then yeah.”

To be honest, Theodore didn’t even know what he was doing. His head tried to convince him to return to the common room and drink like he usually did, but his heart said no.

That’s how he ended up in the courtyard, enjoying the fresh breeze.

“Theo?” An all too familiar voice called out. He practically spun around, facing Y/N. “I thought you’d be at your party.” She stared at him, confused.

“I’m taking a break from all that.” He said. Y/N silently sat beside him on the stone bench.

“I still have your cigarettes if you want them.” Y/N said, handing the packet over. “I thought about it and I don’t think I want to smoke just yet.”

“Thanks, love.” Theodore took the box, shoving it into his pocket without hesitation. Normally, he’d take one out and light it up but tonight was different.

“So, that Ravenclaw boy.” Theodore drawled. “He asked you out, huh?”

“Hm? Oh, Rowan? Yeah. I only said yes to be nice though because he helped me with some work last year.”

“You’re too kind, love. You need to know your boundaries.”

Y/N’s cheeks heated up at the sound of his endearing nickname. “I can’t say no now. It’ll just be one date then I’ll say it didn’t work out.”

“What if he wants a second date? What will you do?” Theodore moved closer to Y/N so he could feel the warmth radiating off her body. His heart jumped at their close proximity.

“Then I’ll tell him I don’t want one.” Y/N whispered, staring up at Theodore with those gentle eyes he liked so much.

“I liked your cookie, by the way.” Theodore slowly smiled, “It was good.”

“I’ll bake you a few more next time.” Y/N beamed. “I’m trying a new recipe for a brownie so I’ll give you one too!” Theodore smiled as she jumped into another rant about baking. This time, he could actually listen without being pestered by his friends.

Theodore, as usual, walked into the cafe around the same time he usually did. Eulia spotted him and subtly waved. “Has Y/N come in yet?” He asked.

Eulia hesitated before she pointed over at Y/N and Rowan. Theodore visibly deflated. He knew Y/N was only being nice to the Ravenclaw but he still felt a twinge of sadness.

“I’m sorry, Theo. If it makes you feel better, she hasn’t looked like she’s enjoyed the date. She looks much happier talking to you.” Eulia handed him his coffee.

“Right.” He sat down at a nearby table, glancing over at Y/N every so often. The slight pang in his heart reminded him of why he never dated in the first place. He quietly cleared his throat, deciding that whatever butterflies he felt for Y/N had to be drowned.

He stood up and Y/N immediately caught his gaze. She smiled and waved when Rowan wasn’t looking, but Theodore ignored her. Slowly, she lowered her hand.

As Rowan ranted on about how Ravenclaw was the best house, Y/N couldn’t help but think of what she had done to possibly anger Theodore. So much that he ignored her when he usually enjoyed her small smiles and secretive waves. She blocked out Rowan’s voice, frowning. He couldn’t grab her attention like Theodore could.

If only she knew that Theodore was simply trying not to fall in love.

Theodore avoided her for the rest of the week. Whenever she tried to approach him, he’d walk away. Even his friends were puzzled. After another failed attempt of trying to talk to Theodore, Pansy placed a hand on her shoulder.

“We’ll talk to him.” She said.

“I don’t know what I did wrong. He’s been acting so moody all of a sudden.” Y/N sighed and pouted.

“Maybe he’s on his period.” Matteo snickered at his own joke but immediately stopped when nobody else laughed with him. “I mean, Theo hasn’t had a good drink, fuck, or smoke since Monday. And all he did on that day was smoke for five minutes before he got caught.”

“I thought he liked doing all those things. Why’d he stop if it’s just going to make him grumpy?” Y/N murmured, playing with the hem of her blouse. Matteo and Pansy exchanged a glance, knowing they shouldn’t expose Theodore so early.

“He’s just being unreasonable. Don’t worry, we’ll get through to him.” Matteo grinned, his eyes flickered to the box in Y/N’s hands. “More cookies for him?”

She nodded. “Could you give this to him? It might make him feel better.” Matteo lowly hummed, taking the box. He and Pansy walked off after Theodore, muttering to each other about what could possibly be wrong with their friend.

“Theo.” Matteo called out as they entered the Slytherin Chamber. They found him sprawled out on the couch, a burning cigarette in his mouth. “Y/N made you cookies.”

Theodore looked at the box in Matteo’s outstretched arms. “I don’t want ‘em.” He said with a lazy flick of his hands.

“But you said you love her cookies. Jeez, dude, what’s gotten into you?” Matteo scoffed as he grabbed one, shoving it into his mouth. “If a girl made me cookies like these, I’d fall in love.”

“That’s the problem!” Theodore exclaimed loudly. “I’m Theodore Nott, Hogwarts resident fuck boy. I don’t do relationships! But Y/N- Y/N is making me feel things I shouldn’t!” He groaned, pulling at the ends of his hair.

“That’s the problem?” Pansy huffed, taking a seat beside him. “Theo, look at yourself. You haven’t partied in ages, you haven’t drank, you haven’t had sex with any other girl since last month. And you haven’t been smoking up until now! If you’re willing to stop all that shit for Y/N then you obviously like her!”

“What if I’m just concealing it, huh? What if I haven’t changed and if I date Y/N, then I hurt her? I don’t care about any other girl’s feelings but Y/N, fuck. I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Figure your feelings out then decide what you want to do. Easy peasy.” Matteo shrugged, eating another cookie. Theodore clicked his tongue, snatching the box out of his hands.

“It better be easy or I’m going to smoke all your favourite cigs, Matt.”

Matteo was lying. It was not easy to figure out how he felt towards Y/N. Every time he got close to her, he changed his mind last minute and rushed off. It earned him some weird looks but he couldn’t care less.

“Have you even slept lately?” Matteo questioned, slamming a cup of coffee in front of Theodore. He groaned.

“Do I look like I’ve slept?” He muttered, glowing at Matteo.

“Like a baby.” His friend teased, cruelly laughing. Lorenzo glanced over Theodore’s shoulder, clearing his throat.

“Y/N’s coming this way.” He whispered, kicking Theodore.

“What?” He looked around, panicked. Y/N was indeed walking towards him. He grabbed his coffee, splashing it onto Matteo’s wrinkled blouse.

“Yo! What the fuck, dude? That’s hot!” Matteo seethed, resisting the urge to peel his wet shirt off. Some girls hoped he would.

“Sorry, Matt. It was an accident. I’ll help you clean up.” Theodore tried to play his stunt off as an accident while practically dragging Matteo out of the hall.

“Okay, seriously, what was that all about?”

“I needed an excuse to get away.”

“So you spilled hot coffee on me?!”

“I would’ve let you do the same.” Theodore glared at his friend as he sat down and slumped. “She’s everywhere. How is she so social? I can’t get away from her.” He ran a hand through his messy hair.

“Have you been running away from Y/N this whole time?” Matteo questioned, arching an eyebrow. “It’s hilarious to imagine you running away from a girl.”

“Shut up. I’m processing things.” Theodore sighed.

“Just talk to her, Theo.” Matteo lightly nudged his leg, “What else can you lose? You’ve already lost your dignity.”

It had been a few weeks since Theodore had returned to the coffee shop. But finally, he strutted through the doorway with his usual uncaring demeanour.

Someone else entered as Theodore stood in the middle of the room, taking in everything he had missed about this cafe.

“Theo?” Y/N asked, peering over his shoulder. “I haven’t seen you in a while.” He stiffened and slowly turned around. “Are you having a coffee?”

“I’ve already had one, actually. I was just seeing if this place had changed.” Theodore wanted to walk away but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Y/N’s eyes.

“Well, there’s no harm in having another one, right? It’s on me.” Y/N smiled at Eulia, “One cinnamon chai latte and…” She thought for a moment, glancing over at Theodore, “You’ve already had a coffee so one cream latte as well!”

Y/N paid and brushed past Theodore.

“Kiss her.” Eulia hissed, harshly poking Theodore’s shoulder.

“I’m not kissing her.” Theodore replied back in a hushed whisper.

“Theo, you coming?” Y/N called out, looking over her shoulder.

There was barely anybody in the cafe and even if there was, Eulia would’ve ignored their drinks to make Y/N and Theodore’s.

Theodore reached out to grab his but Y/N was quicker. She grasped both drinks, smiling at him. “We don’t have to be back at school for a while so let’s sit here.”

Theodore nervously followed behind Y/N to their usual table. He sat down, rigid and stiff. He saw his cup and glared at Eulia, who laughed. She had written a message on the cardboard, kiss her, and Theodore was quick to cover it.

He looked out the window, almost jumping with joy when he saw Matteo. “Oh! Matt! I need to talk to him! Sorry, Y/N. I’ll see you later!” He ran out of the cafe, crashing into his friend.

“Matteo! Quick! Do something!” Theodore shook his friend, urging him to create a distraction.

“Is this about Y/N?” He asked.

“She’s in the coffee shop- don’t look!” Theodore shoved his friend.

“And you need me to something stupid?”

Theodore eagerly nodded but was unprepared when Matteo pushed him forward and down a snowy hill. “Theo! Sorry! My hand slipped! I’m coming!” Matteo yelled out in a fake worried voice as Theodore rolled and got a mouthful of snow.

Y/N watched their strange interaction as she sipped on her drink. “… He didn’t call me love like he usually does.”

Y/N hummed to herself as she slipped on a pair of mittens and took out a tray of cookies. She placed the hot metal tray on the counter, the smell of baked goods wafting through the air.

She poured herself a cup of light coffee and sat down, swinging her legs. She lifted her head when she heard the sound of quiet swearing and smelled the scent of cigarettes and cologne.

“Theo?” She asked, tilting her head to the side. It was silent for a moment before the boy sheepishly pushed the kitchen doors open.

“I was looking for a snack for Pansy. She’s not feeling well.” He looked around, staring at everything but Y/N.

“I would offer her a cookie but she doesn’t really like chocolate, does she?” Y/N circled her finger around the rim of her cup, “Would you like some coffee? I made it myself.”

Theodore found himself sitting across from her against his will. He watched as she poured him a cup, softly smiling.

“Thanks.” He stammered, grabbing the white mug and gulping it down.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Careful! Isn’t it hot?”

Theodore slammed the cup down, ignoring the burning sensation on his tongue. “No.” He wheezed, his vocal cords threatening to give up on him, “I’m fine. Tastes great.”

“You’ve spilled some.” Y/N said. She leaned forward, pointing at his collar. His top two buttons were undone and hot coffee trickled down his skin. “That must hurt. Here, let me help.”

Y/N dabbed a tissue against Theodore’s collar and he flinched as her fingers came in contact with his exposed skin. She noticed, peeking up at him through her lashes.

“Do you hate me so much that you can’t stand having one coffee with me?” She asked, taking a small step back.

“What?” Theodore choked. He didn’t hate her, quite the opposite to be honest.

“You keep running away from me. And you left me in the cafe the other day. And you didn’t wave back. Do you hate me?”

Theodore hated how he could see her E/C eyes glass over. He fiddled with his mug, tapping his nails against the porcelain.

“I… have to go. Pansy needs me.” He stood up, leaving without another word. He was doing what he did best; running away from his problems.

With Theodore out of the picture, Y/N felt lonely. She dug around in her pocket, confused when she fished out a cigarette. “Oh… it must’ve fallen out.” She murmured.

She was on her way to the cafe, but not to meet up with Theodore. The day after he had walked out on her, again, a Gryffindor had approached her and asked her out. She said yes in hopes this date would be better than her date with Rowan.

Spoiler alert, it wasn’t. In fact, she felt like it was worse. Y/N stared at her cup as the boy beside her talked on and on about his love for quidditch.

“What’s your hobby?” He suddenly asked.

“Baking.” Y/N answered absentmindedly.

“Oh, that’s kind of boring. Quidditch is better, don’t you think?”

Y/N resisted the urge to sigh. Theodore never insulted her love for baking.

“Do you do anything else?” The boy questioned.

“I study.”

“Jeez, you really are boring. You wanna come to a party with me? I know a guy who’ll hook us up with some coke.”

“No thanks.” Y/N rested her cheek in the palm of her hand, watching the clock closely so she could dart away as soon as the date was over.

Someone suddenly pulled up a chair in front of Y/N. “Coke is boring.” Theodore uttered, “Baking is better.”

Y/N tried to conceal her smile since she was still upset with him, but when he winked at her, she couldn’t help it.

“What are you doing here, Nott?” The Gryffindor sneered.

“I’m here to thank you for keeping my girl company.” Theodore grinned, showing off his pearly white teeth. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.” He grabbed Y/N by the wrist, tugging her out of the cafe.

“Why do you choose the shittiest guys to go out with?” Theodore asked.

Y/N lightly huffed. “It’s not like I mean to. At least they don’t walk away from me when I’m trying to talk, though.”

“You still upset with me, love?”

“You hurt my feelings, Nott.” Y/N pulled out the lone cigarette, shoving it into Theodore’s hand, before hurrying off.

He quickly placed it between his lips and lit it. “Let me explain, love!” He exclaimed, chasing after her. He breathed out a mouthful of smoke.

“Okay. Then explain.” Y/N folded her arms over her chest.

“What? Here? Now?” When Theodore saw the unamused look on Y/N’s face, he sighed. “Fine, but this is going to sound stupid.” He took another hit from his cigarette, needing all the courage he could get.

He took a deep breath. “I think you’re wonderful person and I didn’t want to risk hurting you so I tried to distance myself but that backfired and I was trying to process my feelings because I’m Theodore Nott. I don’t do relationships. But you made me want to give it a go so I got scared and that made me do stupid shit like spilling coffee on Matt or running away or allowing Matt to push me down a hill.”

Y/N furrowed her brows. “What are you trying to say?”

“I like you, Y/N! I like the way you smile and the way your eyes light up and I like how you look and me and how fond you are of baking! I like how you take the time to make me cookies because it makes me feel special! You treat me so differently from other girls and that’s how I know you aren’t just around for a hook up! I like your perfume and your hair and your outfits and the way you skip when you’re happy and how you read classic Muggle books because you want a cute teen romance!”

“You noticed all of that… about me?”

“How could I not? You have such a charming aura and I can’t stand it because no matter how much I try to deny it, I like you.”

“You really like me?” Y/N knew about Theodore’s reputation and she’d be lying if she didn’t feel the same way. But what if he was just toying with her?

“I do.”

“Okay then. Hug me!” Y/N exclaimed, confident he was joking. Theodore shrugged before embracing her tightly. “Uh… hold my hand!” He intertwined their fingers without hesitation. “Kiss me!” Y/N was sure he wouldn’t do it but when he leaned down and pecked her lips, she froze.

“Are you done? There’s a lot more things I’d do for you, Y/N.”

“Are you sure you like me? Like, really? Because what if we get married and you decide you don’t like me but we already have two kids and a cat together? Who will keep the cat? Or will we have shared custody over it?” Y/N spoke so fast Theodore could hardly understand her.

“What about the children?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

“What about the cat, Theo?”

“I really do like you, Y/N. Believe it or not. I’m willing to give dating a try… if it makes I can date you.”

“Please don’t break my heart, Theo.”

“I won’t.”

“Can we finally drink coffee together without you running off?” Y/N questioned, which earned her a small chuckle from Theodore.

“I won’t run away this time, love. I promise.”

3K notes · View notes

konigsblog · 26 days

Text

stepfather-simon riley and his perverted desires towards his stepdaughter.

tw: possessiveness, over protectiveness, stepcest, non-con/dub-con. MDNI 18+

photo credit: @ave661

it's disturbing and frowned upon for simon riley to be this perverted over you. he knows if the truth was let out, people would look at him with disgust, knowing how he feels about his stepdaughter.

your boyfriend is a complete jerk, a total dickhead who doesn't value your opinions or care about your emotions whatsoever. he's cheated on you numerous times, with messages and notifications from other girls causing his screen to light up, your stepfather catching a glimpse.

he wants to tell you so badly, but he knows it'll break your heart. the man's a total jerk, and you deserve better, someone like simon. he listens to the sound of the bedframe creaking in your bedroom as he fucks you brutally, which only infuriates simon even more, who would be so gentle and soft with you if he had the chance.

you're blindfolded by your boyfriend. he finds him sneaking out of the room to grab his phone that he had left downstairs in the living room, to be met with a very frustrated simon, who threatens him to get the fuck out of his house, and to never contact his stepdaughter again. the sight of you blindfolded is a sight for sore eyes, that causes his stomach to churn with excitement, anticipation, and horniness all at once as he begins to undo his belt.

he's slow with his thrusts, the thickness of his meaty cock stretching your pretty hole out. your sweet stickiness coats his lengthy, veiny cock in a shiny glimmer of your arousal, smeared along your bare thighs. the prominent veins along simon's shaft rub against your gummy walls, and the sounds of your pleasure and ecsasty cause blood to rush to his leaking dick, his thrusts becoming deeper and harder.

he doesn't waste a moment in the warmth of your pretty, warm cunny. your thighs tremble and shake with neediness, the slightest and smallest touch to your clit causing moans to flow from your lips, a sound simon could listen to all day. he adores the way you sing to him, whimpering through desperate pleas for more, the firmness of his heavy balls smacking against your tight rear bound to ache later.

although, simon couldn't wait any longer. he had to see the look in your eyes when you realised that you were getting fucked by your stepfather, and not your boyfriend. his hand came around to the back of your head, taking off the blindfold, your eyes widening with shock and horror, bottom lip quivering as you freeze in your place.

“fuck, baby--.. look at you, already takin’ me so well, sounds like you’re enjoyin’ it, yeah?” his breathless pants and hoarse groans became louder as he fucked deeper into your spongy, slick pussy, folds coated in your release as you squirmed and wriggled, starting to sob out of humilation and terror.

although, simon couldn't help himself. he knew he should feel disgusting and horrible for doing this to his beloved stepdaughter, but this was everything he'd ever dreamt of, and he wasn't gonna waste a moment of this opportunity... :(

#orla speaks #tw: stepcest #tw: non con #tw: dubcon #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #tw: dark content #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost simon riley #mw2 ghost #call of duty ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley imagine

563 notes · View notes

childeel · 7 months

Text

"GREEN WITH ENVY."

✦ childe, zhongli, xiao, baizhu.

reaction to when the liyue men are jealous

notes — femme terms, fluff!

childe ⟢

childe is very secure in himself; he believes that he's pretty good-looking, he's very strong & he can fight very well. he 's confident, and his flirtatious personality has always seemed to work it's charm when been needed. he knows, he's all that you could want. and so, he's not jealous because he's insecure in himself, he's jealous because quite simply, he doesn't like sharing what's his. he understands completely, you're beautiful – absolutely divinity. you have such a warm aura and sweet personality that just draws people into you, wherever you go. you're heavenly beyond compare, and that's why you're his. if anyone were to try anything with you, childe would be quick to interrupt – barely even letting them get their full sentence out before he's got an arm around your waist, cold and daunting eyes piercing into whoever thought of bothering you. the other person probably only has a good ten seconds before childe sees this as an initiation for a fight.

zhongli ⟢

i don't think at all that zhongli would be a jealous man. he is a god after all, he's lived through hundreds of years; it'll take a lot more than the waiter in the xingyue kiosk admitting he thinks you're beautiful to get a rise in zhongli. zhongli would more than likely smile, nodding his head in agreement with the waiter. he's glad to hear you receiving compliments and praises from strangers in liyue, it's what you deserve. the only time he recalls feeling an emotion even somewhat close to jealousy was when the two of you were walking hand in hand through the streets of liyue; your hand had tore away from his all of a sudden, and zhongli was on guard whilst looking around frantically, trying to scan out any enemies. but, there were none... and where were you ?! when his eyes land on you, you're crouched in an alleyway just up ahead, cooing at the cat you found lazing around, hands petting lovingly at every part of it's fluffy little body! zhongli breathed a light chuckle, realising that his only rival in the competition for your attention, was of the feline species...

xiao ⟢

xiao probably wouldn't really understand his jealousy. being his precious girlfriend, xiao feels a strong sense of responsibility over you – he feels it's almost part of his life 's purpose to protect you and you keep you out of any harms way – and he does a good job. and so when he's watching you talk to a man simply passing through the wangshu inn, he's not sure why he feels this painful burning in his chest – and his stomach knots. you're smiling and laughing so it's clear to xiao you're not in danger, so why does he feel this overwhelming need to go and protect you, take you away from the man that was causing this cursed feeling in him. he continues watching for a few minutes longer, before the unknown feeling becomes unbearable for him, and he's by your side in seconds, startling the man in-front of you. with xiao 's sudden appearance behind you, you'd turn briefly with a smile, taking one of his hands in your own, quietly asking if there was anything wrong. but the feeling was gone now, it dissipated the instant he felt your warm touch against his skin. and so, xiao would shake his head no, remaining behind you with his chest pressed against your back, a hand lingering on your hip, for the remainder of your conversation.

baizhu ⟢

i think that similarly to zhongli, baizhu wouldn't be a particularly jealous person, and he would also be delighted to hear strangers throwing compliments your way. but sometimes; having a popularly adored girlfriend can be a little bothersome when all he wants is some of your attention ; ( a man had come into the pharmacy to pick up a prescription, and was struck by your looks; feeling the need to stay a few more minutes to praise your beauty. baizhu wouldn't interrupt your conversation at all — like i said before, he'd be happy for you receiving such compliments, but you can only call someone beautiful so many times before it gets boring! ... when the man finally leaves — you'd breathe a lil sigh of relief, returning to your boyfriend, who as much as he tried to hide it, looked rather disheartened. he didn't need to say anything as you practically threw yourself onto him, peppering the sweetest kisses along his face. the annoying little feeling in his chest would quickly fade, a bashful smile curling at his lips.

#genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #childe #childe x reader #tartagila #tartaglia x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #xiao #xiao x reader #baizhu #baizhu x reader

973 notes · View notes

johnpriceslamb · 9 days

Text

𝓽 𝓱 𝓻 𝓮 𝓪 𝓭 𝓮 𝓭 𝓮 𝓵 𝓮 𝓰 𝓪 𝓷 𝓬 𝓮

🪡 Before you joined the gang, you used to be a tailor. An event was coming up soon which involved looking fancy, meaning that you had to take his measurements for a new suit.

𝓑𝓔𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤 𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓒𝓔𝓔𝓓 ! ⋆ female ! reader ⋆ hyper-feminine ! reader ⋆ very suggestive content w/ javier ⋆ close proximity ⋆ reader is mentioned to be physically smaller than said chars ⋆ poorly google translates spanish >.> ⋆ not proof read nor edited ⋆ wrd count/1.2k

🪡 arthur morgan ⋆ charles smith ⋆ john marston ⋆ javier escuella (sep) x f! reader

🪡 𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓾𝓻 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓷,

“stand still!”

You prattle on for the umpteenth time this evening. The loyal enforcer of the gang grunts at the feeling of the cold tape measure wrapped around his bare waist, as he begrudgingly lifts his arms up to avoid messing up the measurements.

“For someone so little,” He groans at the feeling of the flexible measure tightening deliberately around him, “You sure do have a lot of attitude.”

You ignore him, of course. You scribble down the exact number of his measurement down on a piece of paper with a slight hum. The beads of your delicate necklace hang delicately off your neck as you bend over the edge of the table a bit, elbows propping your demure head for support. Arthur couldn’t help but boredly take a peak of what you were writing down, before ultimately sighing as he hopes for this to go a little quicker.

the cigar in his mouth hangs low on his bottom lip, embers flying out from the tip. He takes another slow drag, before letting it out with a gentle sigh- to your direction. You throw the man a puffed-cheek glare, your little nose scrunching up at the smell.

He wouldn’t admit the fact that he felt warm when your fingers would touch his body so subtly when measuring him. Or when your face was so close to his ragged skin, he could really feel your soft breath. Did you always look that pretty when you’re concentrated?

“Hey, Arthur?” That familiar high-pitched voice catches his attention. His hands lazily grab ahold of his low-hung belt, before leaning in.

“Mh?” He lowly grunts, squinting his eyes at the sight of your beady eyes staring up at him. He chews at the end of his cigarette, letting out a huff when the smoke unexpectedly enters inside his body.

You cheekily smile, tinkering your dewy lashes at him to feign innocence. The pencil in your grip is tapped multiple times on the paper, “Wouldn’t pink be a suitable colour choice for your suit?”

“[name].” You’re lucky you were blessed with a cute little face, otherwise he’d have no issue throwing you in the lake nearby.

🪡 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓮𝓼 𝓼𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓱,

“..I’m not familiar with getting measured, I apologise if I make anything difficult.” Charles quietly explains to you in that baritone voice he had. You can’t help that sweet fluttering in your chest at the apology.

“Nonsense!” You wave him off with a toothy smile, “All you’ll have to do is stand still.”

The gentle giant in-front of you slowly nods. He’s not uncomfortable, but he’s kind of on the edge since this was new to him. But since it’s you, he can feel some of the tension in him melt. Usually, he tends to avoid interacting with other people at camp.

But you? Something about you made him draw closer.

“Just a matter of standing still? I think I can manage with that. No trouble with me.” A ghost of a smile slowly etches onto his dark skin at your expression. Almost.. puppy like.

You’re about to measure his full height to ensure the exact proportions of the suit are balanced, only to realise..

Your height (lack thereof.. oops.) comes in as a bit of an issue here. For plot purposes, there aren’t any stools around nor could you go on your tippy toes to measure him fully.

“..Ah.” Charles blinks at the situation. Amusement crosses his face, before gesturing to hand over the end of the measuring tape. He holds it just at his head, patiently watching you peak at the number it falls down to at his ankles.

“Oh my..” You let out a tiny squeak at the number, a shy smile appearing on your sweet face before scribbling it down on a piece of paper nearby.

“Oh my?” He repeats you, “What? Is that.. Is that bad?”

“No, no!” You stammer, meekly brushing your hands over your light pink petticoat, “You’re just.. Y’know. You’re tall.”

“Oh?” He smiles lightly, lovingly looking at your light expression, “I hope that won’t be too much of a problem.”

“It’s not a problem. Quite the opposite, actually.” You quietly mumble the last part. Oh dear, you can feel his gaze, practically warming up your soul, staring at you as if you hung the stars. You feel your cheeks heating up.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing!”

🪡 𝓳𝓸𝓱𝓷 𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓷,

never in your life have you wanted to smack a man in the face so badly.

“Woah,” John grins like a newly wet dog from running through a puddle, “Y’here to take my measurements or to feel me up?”

All you did was just wrap the tape around the swell of his hips. Your cheeks puff out, purposefully tightening the tape to get your point behind.

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind either way.” He cheekily smiles, before scoffing at the feeling of the measuring tape deliberately tightening around him.

You swear you can smell the scent of booze. You ignore it, before straightening your back to measure his waist. What you can’t ignore however, was that raspy drawl his voice had which somehow makes you fall for him over and over again.

He may be as dumb as rocks, but his little antics drew you in.

“Hey,” He calls out to catch your attention. You sweetly tilt your head up, and to the side when he looks down at you.

“You gon’ pick the colours of my suit, or do I get to?” He asks curiously.

You ponder, “Well.. Do you want to?”

He thinks about it for a moment, before coming up with an answer. “Nah. Reckon you should. You’re the professional, after all.”

You can’t help but let out a soft giggle, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

When you’ve finished his measurements, you excitedly turn to him to discuss the colour choices which’ll be appropriate for the event coming up soon. Both of your eyes meet and he peers down at you with a loving gaze, it catches your breath a bit before you force yourself to look down at the notes which contained your notes.

“I think your suit should have a low v cut to really show that upper-body of yours. Perhaps a classic navy blue as your primary colour, and— Hey! Are you even listening to me?”

He blinks a few times, a bit sheepish. “I am, I just don’t got a clue on what you’re saying, sweetheart.”

You can feel your hand tighten.

🪡 𝓳𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓮𝓻 𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓪,

“Ah.. Quite close there, aren’t you?” He has this.. devilishly handsome smile you want to wipe off badly. He peers down at you as if you were nothing but a little dollie while you measured his chest.

“‘M not trying to be!” You whine, going just a bit lower to wrap the measuring tape around his waist now. You hum delightfully as you find the exact number, squinting your eyes to see where the tip of the measurement tape lands on.

While you’re busy with your own little thing, you don’t notice the way Javier admires you from above. He can’t help but comment on it too.

“You know,” He starts of with a slow, lazy smile. Mischievous, even.

“You’re looking very pretty working down there.” He puts a lot of emphasis on the word ‘very’ in his sentence. It’s subtle, but if you were to be paying attention to him you’d get it immediately.

You tilt your head up to innocently thank him with a small smile etched on your pretty little face, before realising what his words were implying. That little..

“Javier!” You scold him with a very high-pitched tone. You feel your dignity fading away as soon as he replies with a mocking laugh to your whining.

“You know I’m just playing around, chica. Don’t take it so seriously.” His hand goes down to cheekily pinch your squishy cheek to get his point through. You frown.

“You’re horrible.” You babble, begrudgingly taking his last measurement. You’re very tempted to give him the cold shoulder, but decided against it.

“You’re too kind.” He sarcastically replies, that same lazy grin on his face from the start as when he sees you scribbling down some notes about his measurements and preferences. You throw a tiny glare at him, “I’m the one creating your suit here, be nice!”

“Mhm? I haven’t gotten to express my gratitude yet have I?” He takes the notepad away from you, setting it aside before easily picking you up by the waist and setting you on the table, your legs dangle off the edge easily as he nears you.

“Permiteme que, querida.”

264 notes · View notes

xhdream · 5 months

Text

seungmin’s double date ♡

smut | oh seungmin x fem!reader | mdni

Seungmin glares at his colleague’s hand travelling on top of your thigh. The neon lights are flickering at the man’s fingertips, making their presence on your kneecap even more visible than it already is. He cannot look away. In his mind there’s a trapped sick scenario in which both of you are naked together. He imagines going to work every day, and having to smell your perfume from the collar of his shirt, cause he fucked you against the door right before leaving. It makes his blood boil.

The girl sitting beside Seungmin, that one friend of yours, you specifically picked out for him, is speaking at his ear, overexcited about something, but he doesn’t hear a word. The laugh you respond with every time his colleague makes a lame joke, tunes louder than the music that’s pulsing in the club.

Seungmin swallows the rest of his drink, and speaks up for the first time in several minutes.

“I’m going to get us more drinks. Y/N, come help me out.”

You nod at Seungmin’s request, and walk after him.

After you pass by the bar, you ask where you’re going, but Seungmin keeps walking towards a small corridor, not giving any explanation. He opens the restroom door, and pulls you inside. Your fingertips brush over the expensive watch, as the sheer sleeve of his shirt exposes his wrist. You watch him slam the empty cup he brought all the way here, next to the sink. He seems irritated.

“Seungmin, what happened?”

“How’s the date going for you?” He asks, after a moment of silence, which he used to control his temper.

“It’s going good,” you say through a smile. “I think they’re both great people, and they’re funny too. What do you think?”

Seungmin turns around to face you. At that point you realise something is off with your friend.

“I think he really likes you.” He walks closer to you with hands, hidden in his pockets.

He stops when someone storms out of the women’s restroom. The woman glances at the pair of you curiously, before washing her hands, and leaves.

“There isn’t a minute he’s not looking at you.” Seungmin locks the door after her, before speaking up again. “At your body, at your lips… It drives me crazy.”

A moment later, your faces are just centimetres apart, and you can’t look away from his lips.

“What are you saying?” Your whisper almost gets eaten up from the barely repressed noise of music and crowds shouting, that’s buzzing through the walls.

“I don’t want you near him.” He answers with no hesitation.

“You were the one who gave the idea for this double date, Seungmin.” You remind him, but it doesn’t seem to do anything.

Next thing you know, his right hand is gripping your throat. He moves your chin up, so as much of your irresistibly scent skin is exposed for his mouth to devour. While his warm tongue works its way up towards your earlobe, you stay with your eyes shut and his other hand, cupping your ass.

His mouth marks your sensitive skin with greedy sucking, not taking into consideration how are you going to cover up the next day.

Moving down to your neckline, Seungmin uses his fingers to expose your bare chest, as he pulls the straps of your little dress down your shoulders. He stuffs his mouth with your left boob, eagerly playing with your nipple, leaving you no time to grasp what is happening.

You moan his name over and over again, but not really knowing if it’s to make him stop, or if it’s to beg him for more.

Meanwhile, Seungmin’s hands have already pulled your dress up your legs, sliding fingers underneath the thin fabric of your panties to squeeze your exposed ass cheeks roughly. His body squats lower, and his face gets dangerously closer. Wet tongue, tracing your inner thighs; hungry bites all over your skin, making your back sweat and stick to the bathroom wall. His slim fingers tease the lace of your underwear by pulling on the string, but he doesn’t remove them even a little. You feel his nose lightly brushing your clit through the slightly revealing fabric, and gasp at the way his hot breath immediately soaks through like a kiss.

“Seungmin…” you whimper quietly, although your mind is almost empty now, and you’re not sure of what to say next.

Seungmin gets up on his feet, leaving you dizzy and half naked. He grabs your wrists, and pins them above your head.

“You belong to me,” he whispers in your open mouth. “No one else.”

You look each other in the eyes, before you speak up.

“Get us out of here.”

#xdinary heroes smut #xdinary heroes hard hours #xdh hard hours #xdh smut #seungmin #xdh seungmin #oh seungmin smut #seungmin hard thoughts #seungmin smut #xdh x reader #seungmin x reader #seungmin hard hours #xdinary heroes o.de #o.de x reader #o.de smut #xdinary heroes hard thoughts

122 notes · View notes

jotun-philosopher · 9 days

Text

Discworld/Good Omens parallels ramble

Exactly what it says on the tin! These are some fun little Discworld/Good Omens parallels that my brain picked up on at various times (usually 3 a.m. or thereabouts... Thanks, mum, for the persistent insomnia...)

Mild-to-moderate spoilers for Wyrd Sisters, Lords And Ladies, Men At Arms and Carpe Jugulum below the cut.

In A Life With Footnotes, the official biography of Terry Pratchett, Rob Wilkins mentions that when he was in school, a young Pterry wrote for English class a story (sadly lost to the mists of time) about orcs attacking a vicarage in full Jane-Austen-spoof fashion. Now, given how the Whickber Street Shopkeepers' Ball turned out, it seems reasonable to assume one of two things: a) Neil Gaiman did not know about this story when writing S2 and the parallel is an ineffably delightful coincidence (a bit unlikely) b) Neil Gaiman *did* know about this story when writing S2, and the nod to Pterry happened to work really well with the plot (seems a bit more likely). Either way, the parallel is there and giving me all of the warm fuzzies <3

There's an idea in Discworld, forming a significant part of the moral backbone of the series, that's very succinctly summed up by Granny Weatherwax in Carpe Jugulum: "[S]in [...] is when you treat people like things. Including yourself." This is absolutely at the core of what's wrong with Heaven and Hell and God and Satan in Good Omens; the leadership and culture of both organisations/cults treat everyone -- angels, demons and humans alike -- as disposable things to be used and toyed with and discarded or destroyed if they start having the temerity to be imperfect or form opinions or thoughts of their own.

There're two characters in Discworld who parallel Aziraphale surprisingly strongly: Magrat Garlick (of the Lancre witches) and Captain Carrot Ironfoundersson of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch. -*Magrat is viewed as a bit of a soft, soppy 'wet hen' by the other witches, but she is still a witch, with all that that implies. She also has at least one scene in every book in which she appears where she does something extremely badass and witchy; for example, turning an ancient wooden door back into a tree, or (very pertinently to GO) delivering a literally iron-clad punch to the face of a villain who's mentally torturing her with her own insecurities. Likewise, Aziraphale seems to mostly be viewed as a bit dull and wimpy by the other angels we see (though Magrat still has the genuine respect of her witchy peers) but he is still an angel -- a Principality -- with all the powers, steadfast guardianship and bloody-minded stubbornness of that rank. The Metatrash might not be vulnerable to iron in the same way as Discworld elves, but you can bet that his attempt to break Aziraphale and bring him into line is going to backfire just as spectacularly! *For the parallel between Aziraphale and Captain (well, Corporal, at this point in the Discworld timeline) Carrot, the novel I have in mind is Men At Arms. At one point, Vimes is being held at crossbow-point by a villain, and has a bout of internal monologuing about how, if someone has you at their mercy, you'd better hope they're evil, because that way they'll take time to gloat and mock you so you'll have an opportunity to think of a way out; a good man will kill you with barely a word. Carrot does exactly that at the climax of the plot, putting his sword through the villain and the stone pillar behind said villain without saying a thing. Now, Aziraphale might not quite have Carrot's 'incorruptible pure pureness' tendencies, but he is -- for all his flaws -- a good person. If he knows that something needs to be done to prevent an evil outcome, he will DO it without hesitation. He knows how to use a sword, too, and if That Frickin' Elevator Smile Of Tranquil Fury is any indication, the Metatrash is in far deeper doodoo than he realises! Related to the above, The Smile also reminds me of the old adage, "beware the fury of a patient man." (Well, man-shaped being in this case...) Very appropriate for our careful, thoughtful angel -- it would not surprise me (much) if Metatron were to depart the plot of S3 with a flaming sword pinning him to one of Heaven's columns (probably won't happen, but I can dream, eh?)

Hope you enjoyed reading all that :D

#good omens #good omens meta #discworld #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #granny weatherwax #magrat garlick #captain carrot #carrot ironfoundersson #terry pratchett #sir terry pratchett #pterry #gnu terry pratchett

64 notes · View notes

mi-i-zori · 1 month

Text

Blooming Love - Golden Hearts

CoD - Gaz x GN!Florist!Reader

SYNOPSIS : When Gaz stumbles upon a beautiful flower with the sweetest of secrets.

WARNINGS : Tons of fluff. Mention of Gaz being deployed, but nothing more.

I do not give permission to re-publish, re-use and/or translate my works, be it here or on any other platform.

Thinking about a Florist!Reader who secretly uses the language of flowers in their creations.

When an ex-lover asks for « a bouquet for their partner », probably trying to make them jealous, they simply offer a very professional smile before putting together a beautiful ensemble of bright flowers that basically tells the couple to go fuck themselves.

On the other hand, when a sweet old man tells them the order is for his daughter, who just gave birth to a beautiful baby, they whip up a bouquet full of warm and colourful love.

(Should we ever add a little magic in it, they could probably spread spells though their work. Silently wishing for a woman’s child to get better after a rough trip to the hospital ; maybe accidentally pouring negative emotions into a new batch of plants, hindering their growth or even straight up killing them because of the pressure. This is why they have to be extremely careful about their feelings when entering their little plant heaven, in case they end up bringing harm to their flowery friends.)

I can see Gaz stumbling inside their little shop for an occasion he didn’t really think about. He immediately takes a liking to the pretty bee buzzing around the place, honeyed timbre humming a song he remembers hearing once in a nearby café. When they ask what kind of flowers he would like for his bouquet, he simply tells them to follow their instincts. He leans against the counter, mesmerised as they carefully pick up a series of beautiful blooms with a serene look on their face.

He ends up coming back, again and again. His apartment is quickly filled with a sweet, flowery scent as he keeps ordering bouquets, using thousands of stupid excuses to justify his never-ending orders - even though they probably know he is going to take them home. In the end, he sneaks a flirty edge to his voice when he confesses, his tone underlining how they are the one who sparked his newfound love for plants.

His occupation doesn’t really allow him to keep anything more than a few ephemeral beauties, but it doesn’t stop him from waltzing in the shop with an enthusiastic greeting, his smile widening when they answer in their own sing-song voice.

« You remind me of a Moonflower, » they once tell him during one of his visits after a long deployment. They softly trace the dark circles lining his eyes, and he can’t help the way he quietly leans in their touch.

« Why ? » He asks, and he barely realises their voices are now barely a whisper.

« Because they’re seen as a symbol of blossoming in dark times. You keep facing the darkness of this world, yet here you are : standing proud and tall, with a dazzling smile painted on your face. »

One day, he watches them curiously as they carry a bucket full of red tulips to their workspace and mumble about how, despite not being people’s first choice when it comes to conveying their feelings, they are strongly associated with true love. They beam while telling him they are about to make a piece full of love for a marriage, and he realises their work might be more than just handling flowers and plants. The next day, he runs to the bookstore with a blooming interest for this new, exciting side of his love’s personality, immediately purchasing a few books about the language of flowers.

He carefully plans his next steps while being deployed. Soap’s teasing antics can’t seem to make his focus falter, even though his thoughts are constantly plagued by the hypnotising smile of the Flower waiting for him back home.

The first thing he does after finally coming back is follow the path to the flower shop. He easily catches them when they greet him with an excited hug, his stomach churning pleasantly when the familiar sweetness of their scent invades his senses. Though his mind seems blurred, his voice doesn’t waver when he asks them for a gorgeous bouquet of red tulips and roses.

« I found love, » he says.

Something flickers in their gaze, though it disappears quickly behind a smile.

He soon resumes his usual observations as they fly around their shop with practiced ease, his eyes picking up a few quirks in their normally perfect dance. Their hands tremble slightly as they finally wrap the ensemble of stems with clear paper. They barely manage to hide their hesitation when they wonder out loud who the lucky person might be, a false playfulness floating in their tone.

He doesn’t hesitate to place the bouquet in their hands, his lips meeting with their cheek. They immediately hide against his chest, and he can’t help but laugh at their little squeals, savouring the way their body fits so wells against his.

They hold the flowers close to their heart as they finally grace him with a kiss, the both of them finally allowing their feelings to bloom under the sunshine of their love.

#cod gaz #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #cod gaz x reader #x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #gn reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw x reader #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod mw3

67 notes · View notes

vampyrsm · 2 years

Text

'made to kill.' (4.4k) vampire!bakugou katsuki x female reader

warnings: hematolgania (blood play), reader is a vampire (reader has red eyes), alcohol & drugs mentioned, violence, human deaths, blood-drinking, no prep vaginal sex, angry/aggressive sex, yandere!bakugou, marking kink/ownership kink, very dubcon (blood frenzy & bkg uses venom on the reader), toxic relationship.

➼ 'kinktober 2022 masterlist'

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" a man's voice shouted over the bass over the music, he was drenched in the stench of sweat and whatever drug was currently coursing through his veins—ketamine, perhaps? Whatever it was, it was revolting and tasted sour on your tongue when you pressed it against the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from talking back to him.

Instead, you glance at him, feigning the best doe-look you could possibly muster and the effect was almost immediate. The man's features softened as he lapped up your complexion, the beautiful curve of your lips and the flutter of your eyelashes before you spoke. "I'm so sorry!" you yell back loud enough over the bump of the music. You weren't sorry, not in the slightest. You don't think you've ever felt remorse in the 487 years of being 'alive'.

Before he could speak again you slipped back into the crowd, working your way through the overly warm bodies that made the skin on the back of your neck prickle with something deep and dark, a primal urge that had been gifted to you so many years ago by someone who called themselves your saviour. Speaking of your saviour, it was said he was here tonight. It was odd and extremely rare to come face to face with your sire once they had let you spread your wings and leave the nest but there was always this pull in the chest of someone who had been sired—to seek out the one who had made you immortal.

Your eyes scanned over the crowd of people, all of them were human, and they were all very stupid for stepping foot into the building tonight. But could they really be blamed? They didn't see the barrier they stepped through nor did they realise the alcohol they had been taking all night was laced with a multitude of drugs. Though you did have to give it to the man in charge, it was an ingenious plan. Humans were creatures of habit, they yearned for the promise of forgetting what pathetic lives they lived and would wander far to reach said promise.

And that's how they ended up in the abandoned hospital in the middle of nowhere. If you recall correctly, it actually used to be a hospital to treat the insane. It was quite the hotbed for paranormal activity and thus in turn was a great hangout for things of other supernatural heritage. Namely vampires. It was dark and cold, no one came here unless they were foolish enough to try and "hunt" the undead.

They never did return from those investigations, and neither will any of the people in the room right now. They're unaware of the fact by the time it strikes 2 am, they'll all be dead.

"We didn't expect to see you here tonight," you didn't need to turn your head to know who that was. The person speaking to you leaned against the wall beside you, his presence was suffocating. "In fact, most of us thought you had fled the country after the stunt you pulled."

Finally, you look up at the man, his long thick red hair pulled back into a half-and-half updo to reveal those ruby-red eyes that glowed even without the help of the numerous strobe lights in the room. "He's still got you acting as his lapdog?" you avoid his question, catching the glint of the large fangs in his mouth when he cracks a grin. Kirishima was one of the more terrifying vampires you had ever encountered, you had barely escaped with your life the last time he was sent to 'take care' of you.

"Something like that," he shifts his body slightly, now leaning a shoulder against the wall and letting his body naturally tower over your own. "Do I need to be worried about you being here?"

You shoot him a look, "Red, we both know if you saw me as an actual threat I would be dead by now."

Kirishima huffs a laugh, tilting his head in agreement before his eyes darted back out to the crowd. "Do you plan on staying for the killing hour?"

"No, you've pumped these idiots full of drugs that it wouldn't even taste good."

He hums in response, his body shifting once again and you follow his line of sight to above the main dance floor. They seemed to have knocked out the floor above to make it more suitable for their activities, and in turn, gave themselves a perch to sit upon whilst they watch their prey work themselves into quite the frenzy. Your heart threatens to burst at the sight of the person you had in truth come seeking unwillingly, the red of his eyes was harsher than anyone else's—fresh from a recent kill. His blonde hair was still as restless as it had been all those years ago when he saved your life but instead of the soft look he had once given you, it was replaced with a snarling scowl.

It was the reaction you had expected, yet it still made your heart pang in rejection from your sire.

"He wants you to—"

"He can come down from his throne and tell me himself if he wants me to leave." you spit back, pushing off of the wall to wander back into the crowd of humans. The burn of the crimson eyes was hot against your cold skin, ripping apart your body and staring directly into your soul—begging you to turn around and make the fatal mistake of making eye contact with the strongest vampire in all of Japan.

The crowd ebbed and flowed around you, bodies moving in time with whatever god-awful rhythm was no doubt being played by the resident Raijuu. Denki Kaminari was a harmless beast, a rare one, however, he had the tendency to run with the wrong crowds. He had since the beginning of time, and he had always been stuck close to the kingpin of the vampiric world—Katsuki Bakugou. Your Sire.

You can't quite recall the moment the relationship soured between the two of you. As far as you could remember, the blonde had quite a soft spot for you despite the hard-set frown on his face and the grim words that fell from his mouth when he was particularly angry. But that anger was never directed at you, he always treated you with the utmost care and respect—until he didn't. It happened one evening, that bond that held your heart tightly suddenly slacked and loosened as if you'd been set free but you couldn't quite understand why. Not until you had returned to the usual haunt of a bar that Bakugou always resided in to find him with another human.

Rationally, you knew he was feeding, he had told you that he had no more desires for turning people into undead vampiric leeches but the bond only ever loosened until it was no more when he had moved onto sire another—did this mean he had no longer had a use for you? Would he simply 'dispose' of you? You didn't want to find out. So irrationally kicked in, and this birthed the "stunt" Kirishima had continued to hold over your head for so many years. It was a messy ordeal, you had worked your way through the bar that very night to obliterate every single last human in the bar, it was truly frightening how much strength you didn't realise you had and just how fascinating it was to be able to rip a person apart with a single bite. This included the human woman that screamed for Bakugou to save her from the clutches of your hands.

Of course, he didn't. Instead, he just glared at you, an unreadable expression on his face. And that's when you found out Kirishima wasn't kept around for just his good looks or his ability to smooth talk his way around town but rather for the fact he could rip through a steel door with his bare hands.

In truth you had made yourself scarce following the incident, Kirishima was always hot on your tail and you weren't unaware of the fact Bakugou would go to the coven of witches to try and track you down. He however was not the only one with a magic user on his side—you'd have to thank Midoriya later for doing a spectacular job on the charm you wore around your neck to ensure you could get through the barrier of the hospital without bursting into flames.

"Your thoughts are still too loud."

If it were possible, you imagine your blood would've run cold at the sound of the gruff voice that spoke with sheer power that demanded respect. It seeped through your ears, muddying your brain with the urge to turn around and face him. But that only meant one thing, he'd win in a heartbeat and you're certain you'd be dead on the floor within that same heartbeat. Despite vampires being amongst the strongest at the top of the food chain with the ability to not be affected by other supernatural beings, that was overpassed by someone who had created you.

Bakugou Katsuki was known as the King of Tokyo for a reason, he could look someone in the eye and they'd explode on the spot. He was a force of nature, and even you feared what he could do.

You hardly have any time to react before there's a strong, cold, body pressed against the back of your own. The smell of something rich and spicy sticks to the back of your tongue when you try to swallow, his power wraps itself around you and chokes down any thoughts that are telling you to move away from him. Bakugou effortlessly wraps his arms around you, one across your shoulders with a large hand gripping you tight whilst the other arm circles around your waist to ensure you don't move.

It's far too natural how easily you fall back into the memory of how this was once your everyday life, to be held and doted on by a man who could crush anyone with just one hand. His body moulds around yours, just like yours perfectly moulds into the shape you've left in his chest after all these years apart. He lowers his head, tucking his chin against your shoulder and you get a peek of those blonde locks that you could spot a mile away.

"If you listened to Kirishima for one second longer," he starts, voice lowered enough so only you could listen to the honeyed words he whispers into your ear. "You would've known that I didn't intend to ask him to make you leave. I wanted you to come and join me."

His words confuse you, had he not looked at you with utter disgust from up on his manmade perch? Had he not sent Kirishima after you all those years ago? The man in question hums against your ear, body moving when he starts to sway a little to the beat of his own drum in his head. "Still so loud, sweetheart." he rasps against your ear, the coolness of his breath makes your skin burn with gooseflesh.

"I don't understand." You manage to say, you know you don't have to speak over the noise of the music and the chanting of the crowd for him to hear his whispered words. His fingers tighten against your shoulder, muscles in his forearm tensing to press against your throat and pulling your head back further into his shoulder. "I thought you wanted me dead."

"I did," he admits, still curling himself around your body like a snake would with its prey. You know it's too late to try and get him off of you, especially with the way he noses his way down from your ear and to your exposed neck. His breath puffs out against the scarred mark he had left all those years ago on your flesh, it's the one thing you had never been able to fully heal and Bakugou has never been happier with that tiny fact. "But I realised I couldn't live without you."

Your heart for the second time tonight threatens to burst, how it squeezes despite having not moved an inch in over 400 years. Your head feels light and fuzzy, you try to blink away the haze setting over your eyes but it's too late—his plan is finally in motion. You're barely able to register the wet feeling against your exposed flesh, the smell of copper filling the air before the first scream overpowers the bass of the music. It feels like everything is moving in slow motion, how the bodies start to fall and how it seems to be raining blood.

That age-old craving is back, it has your fangs aching in your mouth. How long had it been since you ate someone? Feasted on their blood and felt the power Bakugou had gifted to you? It feels like forever, and when the drop hits your parted lips whilst you try to suck in a breath, you can feel the reins slip from your fingers. Your tongue darts out on instinct, the droplet gone within the same millisecond that it had been against your lips and suddenly you feel your hunger tenfold.

Over the blood frenzy that's rapidly setting into your bones, you can see the flash of red hair and rippling muscles that are tearing through people like they were nothing. Kirishima. You should've known that he'd be the one responsible for turning this into a bloodbath, and your body itches to dart forward to join in but the arms around you tense up a little more almost crushing you.

"Welcome back, my love." he rasps before there's a pinching sensation spreading from your neck and down along your shoulder, followed by a rush of something molten hot. It has your body writhing, your hands curling into fists until your claws are forced to pierce into the flesh of your palms and your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your mind is tortured whilst Bakugou remains latched to your neck, drinking in your essence and forcing you to live through every memory he's endured in your absence. You can feel his pain and longing, he had truly missed you and he was going to make sure you knew that.

The next time your eyes blink open and adjust to the blinking lights around you, you realise the music had long stopped but there's absolutely no one here but one person who calls to you like a homing beacon. You turn in time to see Bakugou wiping a bloodied hand over his jaw, dousing his skin even more in the sticky red and you can't help but track his movements. That's when you register the sticky feeling on your body, how your clothing sticks to your body like a second skin and the satisfying feeling in your stomach of finally being full, sated.

"You back with me?" he asks, tongue darting against his bottom lip before he grins. His teeth are bloodied, his tongue a darkened shade of red and his eyes are glowing in the dark. You imagine you look the exact same. His gait is slow yet every step is made with purpose as he steps over the bodies on the floor, eyes solely locked onto your own until suddenly he's in your face. Large, bloodied, hands are cupping either side of your face. You feel the way the blood seeps into your pores, how it gathers in your hair and clumps together, yet you can't pull away from the way he's looking at you.

His thumbs roll over the apple of your cheeks, and you assume to clear away some of the blood before he's moving in. He's fast, always has been, his lips are consuming yours. The way he moves against you is as if he's punishing you, berating you with the violence of his kiss—how dare you leave him? He crowds your space so easily, towering over you with not just his stature but the natural power he possesses, it has you choking on his very essence. You try to grasp at his clothes, your fingers slipping against the slicked material doused in the blood of the innocent.

You can taste their blood on his tongue, in the saliva that he lets drip from his tongue and the venom that's dripping from his fangs. It burns at your throat but the throb in between your thighs makes it easy to ignore. Something in your mind was screaming at you to stop, but how could you listen to that voice when he was manhandling you backwards until you thumped against the cold broken wall of what must've been the recreational room of the hospital. "Let go, Y/N." he growls against your lips, "Come back to me."

Something brushes against your lips, and you blink away the red haze over your eyes to see Bakugou staring at you intently and he presses forward again. That's when you register the coolness of his skin against your lips, it was easy to let your fangs sink into the hardened skin of his forearm that could withstand the force of a speeding train. Bakugou groans, the red of his eyes slowly being consumed by black until he looked something entirely inhuman. His blood had always been sweet, and you still revel in the fact that you're the only other being in the entire world who had been graced with the opportunity to drink from his royal blood.

Bakugou couldn't take his eyes away from you, watching how your throat bobbed with each greedy mouthful. Your eyes were slowly changing from that shimmering amber tone, not quite red yet meaning you had starved yourself, until they matched his, a deep crimson until it faded into black. He had to have you in every sense of the word, he needed to feel his soul reconnect with yours. The regret that wrapped itself around his heart with sharp metal daggers had been eating away at him ever since he saw the pain on your face that night.

If only you had waited a moment to realise that he wasn't planning on turning another, but rather he was going to aid your ascension to something more than just his sired pet.

He moves faster than your brain is able to register, the blood rushing through his body putting him at the top of his game. He has you beneath him in milliseconds, the blood on the floor soaking into the back of your clothes and clotting in your hair but he can see that it doesn't bother you one bit. Your lips were saturated in his blood, he remembers the conversation he had with you when he offered you his blood for the first time after your transition.

"Is it not taboo to drink from another?" you had asked, eyes filled with worry that maybe it would be toxic to you to consume the blood of another dead soul.

Bakugou shook his head, a hand carding through your hair whilst he hovered over you in the bed of silk sheets. "Not at all, it's the most intimate thing we leeches can do."

It has shivers running down his spine, the reveries alighting that old flame in his stomach and he's lurching forward to capture your lips again. His hands move with renewed vigour as do yours, ripping away at his clothes and he, yours. The growl that tears through his throat isn't as threatening as it should be when your sharpened claws drag across his skin, tearing through it like scissors to paper.

He's not gentle with you either, a hand wraps around your throat to slam you to the ground hard enough to make the concrete splinter beneath the two of you and he's snarling in your face. Elongated fangs soaked in a mixture of his own blood and yours, the sight should be frightening but instead, it has your hips rutting up to meet his own with a sickly sweet mewl.

The look he gave you wasn't like anything you had seen before, his eyes were locked onto you much like a beast would with its prey. He looked like he may just eat you whole. There's a slicing sound before the wet coolness of the floor spreads across your ass and down the back of your thighs before he's hauling your legs over his hips. His fingers slip against your thighs so easily, gliding through the inky red that clung to you.

There's a beat of silence, just the huffing breaths between the both of you before the pressure between your legs makes you yelp. Your eyes widen to look down between the two of you, and you're not surprised to see he had in fact shoved his cock into you with no prep. It has your thighs tensing and walls naturally crushing around him in an attempt to stop him from pushing. What a shame that the man is stronger than you ever will be.

"Don't fight me," he huffs, eyes locked between the two of you before a hand joins to rub quick precise circles into your clit that has your hips rocking upwards to aid his endeavour in pushing his way through your walls until he was fully sheathed in your throbbing tight sex. "Doesn't it feel good? To be back where you belong?"

It does. It feels natural to be back under him, to be wrapped around him and intertwining your souls once again. It has your pained whimpers transforming into moans and murmurs of his name. "K-Katsuki, please." You huff, your claws digging into his forearms when he hunches himself over you to look directly into your eyes.

"Please what?" he doesn't move an inch despite your writhing, the muscles in his body steeling themselves like he was made of marble.

Licking the blood from your lips, you meet his mean gaze. "Fuck me already, I can't wait anymore."

He obliges immediately. His hips roll back before he's throwing them forward, the force of it has your body shifting along the floor easily with the aid of the bloodied concrete before he's grabbing at your thighs with big hands and holding you in place. His claws dig into your skin, easily breaking the reinforced skin before he's fucking into you with a snarl on his face. He looks unbelievably angry like he'd been betrayed by someone.

You imagine he believes he had been betrayed by you, you did lash out first, you did leave immediately, and you did cut him out of your mind link. Is that what he wanted? To be reconnected with you once again so he could see through your own eyes as if they were his? Your mind felt so muddy, wading through your thoughts was impossible with the pulsing of the blood rushing through your veins and the venom that pricked beneath your skin.

His fingers wrap themselves back around your throat, holding you in place when he hunches himself down and over you until his forehead is pressed against your own. His pace doesn't take a hit with the new position he's in, in fact, it feels like he's somehow deeper. Your moans are what he imagines it's like to hear an angel sing, it bounces off of the decaying walls and resonates deep in the pits of where his soul should be. "Let. Me. In." He snarls, not breaking eye contact when he speaks the command.

You have no choice but to let him in, reopening that link between the two of you is like trying to draw blood from a stone. It has a vein popping along your temple, and the throbbing in your mind feels like your head might explode the longer you stare into his eyes. There's a blissful second of nothing but silence before you're bombarded by a voice. "There you go." "What a good girl, I knew you could do it for me." His voice is loud in your head, with no escape from the rich timbre whilst he continues to fuck you with a reckless pace.

The pleasure you're feeling is doubling tenfold, you can feel everything. You can feel his pleasure as well as your own, you can feel the way you throb around his cock and in turn the way your walls are fluttering, milking him for all he's worth. You can taste the metallic bitterness of your own blood that's coursing through his own veins, and when you reopen your eyes you're staring directly into his own. But it's much more than that, it's as if you're staring into his soul, every emotion he had felt over the last 200 years without you has your body writhing.

It's too much, far too much information being forced into your brain and your eyes roll into the back of your head once Bakugou latches his lips back onto your throat. "Mine," the voice in your mind snarls, rumbling deep into your brain until it settles into your bones. "You'll only ever be mine."

The sinking of his teeth into your throat feels different now you've connected with him again, you feel the euphoric pleasure that rolls down his spine and forces his hips to continue to rut like a dog into your wet heat. The feeling has your orgasm snapping violently in your gut, your walls squeezing around his cock until he's forced to part from your throat with a low moan, his eyes fluttering at the feeling of his own rapture.

His cum is oddly hot inside of you, it always was an odd contrast to the usual coldness of your body and it often dropped you back into the days when you were just a human. Bakugou continues to roll his hips, forcing his cum to stay deep inside of you before he's settling his hips against your own and holding his weight on his forearms on either side of your head.

Finally, you look up at him with bright red eyes, swallowing the thickness in your throat and you track the way his adam's apple bobs when he copies the movement. "I've missed you," you whisper into his mind, and you see the instant relief settle on his face.

A hand gently comes down along your face, picking off the strands of hair that dried into the blood coating your skin before he presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. "I missed you too, princess," his voice even sounds softer in your mind, you can't help but relax under him when he pushes his own emotions into you. "I'm never letting you go."

➼ 'kinktober 2022 masterlist'

#tw dubcon #tw death #bakugou x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha x you #bakugo smut #bakugo katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki x you #katsuki bakugo oneshot #bakugo katsuki imagine #katsuki smut #bnha x fem!reader #mha smut #bakugo katsuki smut #bnha smut #vampyrsm kinktober 2022

864 notes · View notes

becca-e-barnes · 9 months

Text

Thinking a whole lot about how good it feels to see someone after the anticipation has been building for a while. There's not much I love as much as a good sexual tension.

Maybe it's been a while since you last saw your dad's best friend but now he's here in front of you, you're counting down the minutes until you can get him alone.

It's hard in a room full of people though. He's just walked into your parents' kitchen, a beer in his hand and as soon as you realise he's looking at you, you look away. You know yourself well enough. Maintaining eye contact with him would leave you fizzling and it's much too early for that.

He doesn't look away. No one would have noticed he's staring but you can't help wondering what he's thinking about. Is he imagining the last time he saw you and how pretty your face looked painted with thick stripes of his cum? Or is he imagining how it feels to slide into you, burying himself to the hilt in your warm, wet, fluttering cunt? Maybe he's imagining the way you beg him not to pull out; the way you clamp your thighs around him and make sure there's no chance of him cumming anywhere except inside you.

If he wasn't thinking about any of that before, you're convinced he must be now. He's leaning against the kitchen counter, ignoring a conversation going on around him with a smirk on his lips and you have to wonder if he can read your mind.

'I'm going upstairs, follow me in 10.' You send the text and leave the kitchen without even looking at him. You have yourself convinced that if you look at him, people will know. They'll know everything. They'll know you think of him every time you touch yourself and they'll know that doesn't even come close to actually being with him.

You've been settled in your room for 14 whole minutes before the door opens.

"Couldn't even hold it together a couple of hours?" Bucky sounds smug and he has every right to.

"I could but I didn't want to. Why should I?" You're on him in seconds, tugging at the collar of his shirt, using it to press his lips against yours.

It's a frantic kiss, all tongue and teeth and breathy moans, hushed as much as possible.

"I want to go back downstairs with your cum dripping out of me." You don't have time to waste so you might as well get right to the point.

"Sweetheart, we both know that's not what you need." Bucky's fingers trail up the inside of your thighs, under your skirt. "You don't need me to cum. You need me to take the edge off."

The soaked fabric of your panties only proves his point. He watches you while he trails his fingers in concentrated strokes against your clit, enjoying every tiny gasp he earns from you.

"I can treat you properly later like we planned. Just let me help you out." His eyes are trained on yours while he slips your panties down your bare legs. With your cunt exposed, he presses you back onto the bed, kissing from your knees, up the inside of your thighs.

One finger sinks inside you, followed by another before his lips seal around your clit, his tongue flicking beautifully.

You've gone from no stimulation to so much at once and it's making your head spin. God, he's good at that. He needs this just as much as you do and it's lovely to be with a man who gets off on eating you out the way he does.

The way his fingers curl inside you is truly breathtaking. "You're going to have to be quiet, angel. At this rate, the whole house will know I'm up here making you cum against my mouth."

#becca's thots #becca writes spice #dbf!bucky #dad's best friend! bucky #dbf!bucky smut #I started writing 4 different ideas before I settled on this one #I've had so many thoughts this week #idk what's wrong with me #my brain needs pressure washed #but I'm going out for drinkies today #and I'm really looking forward to it #I've got a cute new dress #and I'm doing something different with my makeup #and I'll have time to do my hair #it's nice to go out and feel good about myself

333 notes · View notes

malereadermaniac · 10 months

Text

Hogwarts Heart-throb ~ Cedric Diggory x Male Reader

The golden boy of Hufflepuff, heart-throb of Hogwarts is actually gay! (This is a super long fic for me so just beware)

ALSO! For the purpose of this fic, I've added 2 more years to hogwarts so that Cedric is now 19

Smut warning: Fingering, Praise kink, Mirror sex

Everyone at Hogwarts liked him

Girls wanted to be with him & guys wanted to be him

Cedric Diggory was the golden boy of Hufflepuff - maybe even Hogwarts

And even though he was popular, he's remained single for the past two years

People speculate it was because of his near death experience during the games

But the real reason was something Cedric could barely come to terms with himself

Yes, the heart-throb of Hogwarts is gay

Don't get him wrong! He's happy with that, but he isn't out to anyone whatsoever

And that's where you come in

(Y/n) (L/n) the Hufflepuff wizard, who is Cedric's only reason to want to be out and proud

You made him want to show you off

Flaunt that you were his and make sure everyone knew you two were together - so that no one tries anything funny with you

But how did you get him to like you so much?

It started 2 years ago, that's right, you were also his awakening

The term before the games had been announced, on a normal day, Cedric was heading to the library. During this time of day, it was almost fully empty. But when the brunette turned the corner to his usual, secluded table he stopped in his tracks when he saw another student sitting at the table. He eyed up the yellow scarf and recognised you as the boy in his year and house that he shared one single class with - other than that, you were barely in his life, even in the bedroom you two were on opposite ends.

Though, as Cedric was about to leave for another table, you looked up and locked eyes with him. That's when he first noticed something was up because no man should be making his cheeks turn just ever so slightly pink. He noticed your (h/c) hair and how well it framed your face, your eyes were almost entrancing that he couldn't break the eye contact, and Oh Merlin when you smiled at him Cedric swore his heart stopped for a second.

"Did you wanna sit here?" You ask with a warm smile, looking up from your notes

For a moment, Cedric remained quiet, mainly thinking about what he should say but partially still admiring you.

"Yeah... sure" He says with his usual, charming smile

And that was the start of this whole ordeal

Cedric didn't know that what he was starting to feel was love, but instead, he chose to deem it as taking a liking to you

To be fair to him, you weren't like the others, unlike the other guys you didn't obviously envie him or try to pander to him and make him like you

And even though he'd heard rumours of you being gay, you didn't fawn over him like the girls or try to flirt with him painfully

Cedric liked it. You treated him as any other person

You were chill around him in the library

And when he saw you in the hallway the next day, you didn't try to cling to the 2 hours you'd shared the day before like any other person he'd met

But instead, you just smiled at him and kept walking with your friend

That whole day he couldn't stop thinking about you

He wanted to speak with you

More than just a few meaningless words but rather have a proper conversation with you

And so the next day, during your transfiguration class that the two of you shared

Cedric decided to move to sit next to you

And after one whole year of being friends, chatting, hanging out

Cedric finally realised that he liked you

Actually

That's a lie, Cedric came to terms with the fact that he liked you after a year

He realised he liked you during the games, when after the second trial, frantic thoughts ran through his head that of it would have been you under the water instead of Cho, he wouldn't of know what to do

Also, after nearly dying at the grave yard, Cedric could only think about you during what he thought was his final moment

But nevertheless

Cedric knew that he liked you

He knew he would definitely grow to love you

And the thoughts of what could be if he just asked you out already kept him up at night

So one day, he asked you to meet him in a quiet hallway and he spilled his guts to you

It was sweet. He couldn't stop complimenting you, and he couldn't look you in the eye, and he just could not stop talking

You had to shush him with a kiss

Which Cedric gladly accepted, wrapping his arms around your waist and keeping the soft kiss going

"I like you too, Cedric" you giggle after breaking the kiss

That was all Cedric needed to hear

His face had a faint pink hue now, and the biggest grin was plastered on his face

And everything just got better and better from that point on

To your other friends, you and Cedric were just best friends

But behind closed doors, the two of you were a perfect couple

Date nights every Saturday and Sunday

Cedric switched beds to sleep closer to you, and once everyone is alseep, he sneaks into your bed and the two of you cuddle all night long

Once the two of you became 9th years, you only had to share a room with one other person

And of course, Cedric made sure that you two shared a dorm room

"Hey, Cedric!" You say with a huge smile when you run into your biyfriend in the hallways between classes

"Hey b- (y/n)" Cedric says with a small smirk. The two of you always slipped up, but it was never too bad

"Meet me in our dorm after lessons" your brunette boyfriend whispers in your ear as he passes you

So you did, and there he was, waiting for you on his bed.

"Darling~ You're here!" Cedric says with a smile, standing up to walk over to you

"Yeah? What did you want to do?" You reply, mirroring Cedric's smile as he cups you cheeks and gives you a prolonged peck

"Well..... Let's have sex" Cedric whispers after breaking the kiss, his nose pressed against yours as his honey eyes stare into yours, looking for your reaction.

Now, the two of you most definitely weren't virgins

Cedric had done shit with girls in the past, and you had a bit of experience under your belt as well with guys

And you'd given your boyfriend blowjobs before - in bathrooms, empty hallways, and even the common room late at night - and he's a big fan of those

But you two had never gone further than that, which scared you a little

"Umm... Now? ....Sure" you say hesitantly, but with a determined smile on your face.

Cedrics grin was even bigger than when you first agreed to blow him

He was a little worried, though

"You know I've never... done it with a guy, right?" Cedric whispers, looking down at you with dusted pink cheeks

"I know, Cedric. I can guide you if you'd like?" You say with a smile, kissing your boyfriend's cheek, and then his lips, and then his jaw

"I'd like that a lot, (Y/n)" the golden boy mumbles

You carry on kissing his neck, down to his collar bone, and pulling his gown to kiss him even lower

Cedric cupped your face and kissed you again, more passionately this time

His tongue pushing into your as you moan into his mouth

As the two of you make out, Cedric taking the lead, you both pulled each others clothes off, sliding the silk fabric off of each other until you were both left in your undergarments

You'd seen most of your boyfriends underwear by now from the number of times you'd blown him

Tonight, he's wearing some run of the mill black boxers with a golden yellow waist band

Cedric, on the other hand, had only seen you shirtless

So blood rushed not only to his cheeks but also his dick when he saw you almost fully naked, sporting some tight, black boxer briefs

Cedric admired your body. He'd only seen it and felt it when visiting his family with you or vice versa

You noticed his eyes were lingering and got a little embarrassed, but decided to have some fun

"You can touch me if you want, Cedric" you say with a warm smile

"Don't mind if I do, Darlin" Cedric said, effortlessly oozing charisma

With your hands on his shoulders, you watched Cedric's face as his hands caressed your skin, feeling around your waist and hips and even ass

His face was a mix of cute and incredibly attractive, the brunette was biting his lip and blushing as he felt your body

His boner now evident

You kissed him, and felt his body as well

Your boyfriend was muscular yet lean, he felt great, strong and smooth

His arms felt as if they could lift you no matter your weight

When you broke the kiss, you looked into Cedric's golden eyes

"Now, I'm gonna go lie on the bed, and I'm gonna need you to prep me" you say, explaining to your clueless boyfriend what to do

"Prep you?" He asks, genuinely confused, tilting his head to the side and furrowing his eyebrows

You could feel your heart melt

"Merlin... this is embarrassing... I'm not a girl, so you can't just shove it in, baby" you say with a bright red blush in your face

"Oh shit yeah... what do I need to do?" Cedric asks, holding your hand and playing with your fingers

He cared a lot, Cedric never wants you to feel uncomfortable

You sit on the edge of his bed and drag him in front of you

"I need you to pull off my undergarments, wet your fingers, and... prep me... understand?" You say with an embarrassed grin

"Ohhhh... yeah, I understand you perfectly, (Y/n)" a grin contorted Cedric's face, confusion no longer present but instead replaced with his excitment from before

Next thing you know, Cedric placed his palm on your chest and pushed you down onto his bed

You giggle as you feel his slender fingers slip under your boxers and pull them off of your hips

You raise your feet onto the bed, legs spread for your boyfriend

"Wow... you're so sexy, darlin" Cedric mumbles, making your heart flutter

You can hear a soft wet sound and a small pop

You then realise Cedric must of been sucking his fingers, because not even 5 seconds later, his hands were spreading your cheeks

And Cedric's wet fingers were circling your entrance

You were a little scared but mostly excited

And when Cedric started to push against your hole, you knew you were in for a long and incredible night

The golden haired boy gently pushes the tip of his index finger against your hole

Once it slid it effortlessly, Cedric watched with wide and excited eyes as you clenched around him

"Nghh..." you whine, the feeling of the intrusion being something you know but aren't used to

Slowly, Cedric started to move his fingers

Clearly he has had experience like this

But you didn't mind at all, probably because of the way Cedric was working your hole

His soft fingers gently pressing against you walls, spreading your hole for his pleasure

Cedric admired your entrance, how when he scizzored his fingers open your hole gapes and winked at him

"Fuck... you're so hot, (y/n)" Cedric mumbles with a flushed face but a shit eating grin plastered on his face

"Oh yeah? Merlin.... you're so good with those fing- MHHNNN!" You stared to say breathily, however you were kindly interrupted by Cedric's fingers pushing against your prostate

"Fuck! Are you okay, (y/n)??" Cedric worries

"I'm great.... you just hit that one spot that shatters my world in the best way possible"

"Oh... I'll get back to that then, darlin' "

40 minutes pass, your hole sloppy and loose after Cedric practically abused it with his fingers

You were moaning mess already, your dick twitching as precum spilled onto your stomach, saliva drooling down your chin as you moan like a whore

"I think you're fine by now" Cedric chuckles as you whine from the loss of his fingers

But as you ground yourself again as your boyfriend kisses you deeply, you notice that his fingers are about to be replaced by something better

You watch as the golden boy if Hogwartz whips out his monster cock from his briefs

It's pretty dick, around 7 inches, a tidy bush of blonde-ginger pubes and loose, saggy balls - with one thick vein down the side of his shaft

"Fuck.... I love you" you say with a giggle and a blush as your return your eyes to Cedric's

"Hmhm... I love you too, darlin'.... My darling (y/n)"

Cedric's arms move to either side of your head and his face is just inches from yours

"Am I alright to put it in, I'm so desperate for you..."

"Go ahead, sexy" you say flirtatiously

The two of you chuckle and kiss each others faces, you gasp when Cedric starts to push the tip of his cock

Merlin... it feels incredible

You moan and gasp and whine in pure pleasure, Cedric's preping getting rid of any possible pain

"Fuuuu.... Unnnnhh" Cedric groans as you tighten around him once he bottoms out

You move your hands to cup his face, which is scrunching in effort as to not cum immediately

The two of you kiss

A passionate, slow kiss as Cedric starts to rut into you

"Hngg..." you moan into your boyfriend's mouth

The sound of the hufflepuff's hips slapping against your bare ass echos throughout the room

Along with your moans and Cedric's, as well as the wet squelches of your lips and hole

"Fuck you're too good... (y/n)... fuck I love you" Cedric whispers breathily into your ear

His praises make your dick twitch

He was good too, really good

"Fuck... you're so good, Cedric... Ahhh Cedric..." you moan

Cedric pushes himself up, looking down at you with a grin on his face

He watches as you wiggle around from his dick slowly pumping in and out of you

He finds this so hot

He finds you so hot.

The next thing you know, Cedrics hands trace your waist and grip your hips, manhandling you to get up on your knees and flipping you to face his bedroom mirror

Oh fuck.

Your face flushes redder than before

"CEDRIC! AHHH...!" You want to scold your boyfriend for wanting to do something so perverted for your first time

But you were not-so-rudely interested by his dick ramming back into you all the way

You moan loudly and lewdly

Watching yourself in the mirror as your jaw goes slack and your body leys Cedric manhandle you into the position he wanted you in

One hand on your hip tight and the other around your chin from behind you, his vein hand making sure your eyes stayed on the mirror infront

As the two of you got wilder, your moans louder and sluttier as your dick twitched and walls tightend, Cedric also got closer to cumming

You looked behind your fucked-out face and looked at Cedric's

Your walls tightened instantly

He just looked so hot, smirking with a thin blush

Sweaty with damp hair, his pecs tensing as he grinned while looking at you, it was the hottest sight you'd ever seen

So hot, that you came...

"AHH! Cedric- Cumming- Ack-!" You shout in between moans

"Go ahead then, sweetheart~"

That's what really pushed you over the edge, along with him kissing your neck and forcing hickey all over it.

Your heart was still racing

Your body sweaty over the covers, covered in cum, spit, hickeys and lovebites....

Cedric was next to you, sat up and reading a book, still naked and sweaty

Your hole was leaking Cedric's cum, but you couldn't care less

Once the two off you cooled off enough, you both cleaned up and went your default

That is, cuddling until you'd both fallen asleep...

#gay #male reader #fanfic #x male reader #gay smut #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory x male reader #ns/fw #mlm ns/fw #gay ns/fw #harry potter #hp #hp x male reader #hp x reader

319 notes · View notes

worriedvision · 10 months

Text

Historically unfortunate in love - Alhaitham

Gender neutral reader, reader is a book. Angst. I know, it's an odd idea, but the idea is that there's this book known for having romance as it's genre, but the book is also known for causing dreams where the reader shows up. Alhaitham takes an interest in this, curious as to what you were. Chaos ensues. There is not a happy ending here, I'm afraid.

"Haven't you heard? That book is haunted!"

"My friend tried to read it, but they freaked out when a scary person showed up on their dreams."

"Hasn't that book been around for decades? More than that."

These rumours, and more, spread about you all the time. Your author had been plagued by an unhealthy attachment to you, to the point they found a way to speak to you in their dreams. As odd as it was, it quenched her loneliness.

But since she died, you were still there. Whenever someone picked you up, you'd appear in their dreams until someone else touched your cover. It was nice at first, meeting people, but you hated the fact they'd keep talking about the romance in your pages. People thought you, somehow, could make their hopes of requited love true. After a few decades, you could not bare it any longer.

So, you made yourself as terrifying as possible. People realised you had no patience left for their love problems, the envy over being used and not talked to like your original owner did being a likely culprit, and the rumour changed to you being so terrifying that you weren't worth reading.

Alhaitham heard from these rumours about you, and he felt like he had nothing better to do. He decides to look into you, taking in the contents of your pages, while also interviewing you.

The first night, he could tell you were trying to be scary. That you couldn't really do anything, positive or negative, towards him. You bulk yourself up, but you can't scare him off. He merely sits there, observing you, and you realise that he's different. He isn't there for a romantic reason, he's not there for some entertainment reason.

He asks you about your origins, your author, what you know about your contents. Over time, he grew more interested in you as a person. You grew to trust him and, you realise, you feel romantic feelings for him. Some pages he mentions to you, it feels like they're happening. Those tight feelings, those warm sensations, the stupid smile your face had.

You were scared of it. You knew he couldn't touch you physically, your form was not physical, and he was an attractive man. You knew that, one day, you would lose him to someone who could give him what you couldn't.

So, you hide from him. You expect him to move on, to see that you aren't showing yourself and his experiment would be over.

Nope, he seems to understand this follows the story you are in. You grow distant after showing symptoms of falling in love, and he would persist.

So, he tells you about himself. His grandmother, his job, anything he could he would do.

"I didn't take you to be a reader of romance." Kaveh chuckles, spying the book.

Alhaitham tuts, taking the book away before Kaveh can take you away. He walks away, Kaveh realising that whatever you were, Alhaitham grew to like you.

Unfortunately, this does not last.

"Please leave." You cry out, Alhaitham not able to find you. "This isn't a good idea, you know this."

"There is no evidence to-"

"No, you are a human being. I know you'll leave."

Those were the last words you said to him. He tried his hardest to call out to you, to tell you how close he felt to you, but nothing worked. Upon reading the rest of the book, his heart sinks as he reads the final chapter.

Your author ended the story with the relationship burning out, the love interest dying in a house fire and the twist being that you were a living possession of the man who loved you. The man comes to terms with the fact you are not real, and he falls in love with someone who ticked all of his boxes.

This must have been the hypothesis of you gifting your reader their desired outcome. People didn't seem to finish reading your story, and the next time he visits you, you know he's finished reading you.

"Burn me. End my suffering." You stare coldly, Alhaitham opening his mouth in horror.

He didn't want to lose you, he didn't give a damn if you were real or if you were simply a dream.

"If you cannot burn me, you have to find someone who can."

No, this isn't right! He didn't want to burn you, he hated the idea of you just, being gone. He didn't understand why you were created, but he understands why he likes dreaming so often.

He enjoys his time with you. He looks forward to sleeping, and not solely because he can escape the people that drain him socially. You don't hear any of it, it was as if your creator made this script for you when someone finally finished your story and stuck with you.

He wakes up crying that morning, Kaveh noting his change in demeanor. Alhaitham hands him the book, unable to carry out your only wish, and he tells Kaveh to sleep at that moment.

"Are you _? Alhaitham seems to like you very much." Kaveh explains, you decide to show your form and nod in reply. "...Do you really desire an end? Alhaitham cherishes you, which is something I didn't think possible for him."

"I envy him. I can't hold him, and he can find a person to hold." You explain. "It's too much for me. My creator made me in a moment of selfishness, and people keep using me until they get what they desire."

"Alhaitham is a different man." Kaveh explains. "He isn't one for socialising unless entirely necessary."

Unfortunately, that only makes you feel even more sure you wish to be burned. You realise from Kaveh's statement that Alhaitham wouldn't be able to stand you if you somehow became human. You hate this constant cycle with people where you wish to form a physical connection but cannot.

"...I'll fulfill your wish, in return for one thing." Kaveh starts. "I am allowed to give the ashes from your book to Alhaitham."

You suppose there wasn't going to be anyone else willing to risk breaking the law for your own wishes, you observed from being classed as a relic of sorts. You nod, Kaveh looking particularly sad when he realises, completely, that you were truly fed up with being used and thrown away.

"For what it's worth.... Alhaitham truly loves you."

When Kaveh burns the book, he calls Cyno to join him to explain the situation. It sounded rather bizarre, however Cyno was understanding enough to know that Kaveh wouldn't make this up, and he did note Alhaitham looks a lot happier than usual. He prepares the bonfire, along with a jar to place your charred pages into once it was completed.

To say Alhaitham was devastated, realising you were gone, was an understatement. He hated sleeping now, knowing for a fact you weren't there, and the charred remains in the jar were the proof you were gone. Your creator was cruel for creating you, Alhaitham couldn't help but recognise. Who makes a book sentient to the point they wish they were human? He didn't know the answer for that question to satisfy his desire for your rest, you must have been miserable up until you felt the flames against your paper, finally feeling the release from this prison you were born in.

Does he move on like the book stated? No. He carries your jar around wherever he can, creating a pouch big enough for you, and whenever someone tried to tease him for it or touch it, he would glare at them. Those stupid enough to try and steal the jar were met with a swift punch to the stomach, catching you before you could hit the ground.

Try as he might, he knew he would have a hold on his heart once filled with you.

#gender neutral reader #genshin impact imagines #angst #alhaitham x gender neutral reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #kaveh

156 notes · View notes