#as well as description coming up so like don't read ->
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The Fall from the Heavens (29)
[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]
[ warnings: sex content, sexual tension, smut, angst, swearing ]
[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]
The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.
Characters & Series Moodboard
Lady Strong Moodboard
Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard
Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Next chapters: Masterlist
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She was awakened by the touch of his hand − his fingers combed lazily through her hair making a pleasant, hot sensation ripple through her stomach. Although she knew he always got up earlier than her, this time he stayed in bed, her body, for some reason she didn't understand, snuggled into his chest.
She felt a pinch in her heart at the thought that some part of her wanted to move away from him and another part of her just wanted him to carry on, so she decided not to open her eyes, pretending she was still asleep.
She felt him looking at her − his lips once in a while placed a soft, warm kiss on the top of her head, from which she felt a pleasant sensation in her heart.
She felt like begging him to stay in bed with her all day, to make love to her, but she knew she couldn't to this.
She didn't want him to think that what he had done, what he had hidden from her, she could forget and forgive with such ease.
"− if that's your wish, we can stay like this all day −" He whispered softly, running his fingertips over her bare neck, making her shiver.
She felt a squeeze in her throat at the thought that he knew her so well, that he was perfectly capable of recognizing that she was awake, that she was faking it. She opened her eyes and rose without a word, his arm immediately placed around her waist, trying to stop her.
"− my love −"
"− you promised me −"
She heard him let out a quiet breath and let her go, resigned, sinking back onto the sheets, burying his face in his hands. She got out of bed and called for her maidservant, feeling that if she did not disperse her thoughts she would cry again.
They ate their morning meal in silence and although she saw that he looked at her once in a while, she did not reciprocate the gaze.
"− has he tried to touch you before? − your brother-cunt, I mean −" He added mischievously, but pressed his lips together when she threw him a tired look full of disapproval.
"− no − I've already explained it to you − the grief and humiliation took his mind away −"
"− he was always mocking you to please Aegon − Baela must be delighted with how faithful he is −" He said with amusement mixed with mockery, turning his head away.
"− apparently we are both fortunate in terms of faithful men − don't you think so, husband? −" She asked him coldly; he gave her a quick, horrified look and swallowed hard, knowing full well what she was implying.
"− I have never betrayed you − not in this way −"
"− and a woman in a brothel? −" She asked matter-of-factly, thinking with surprise that she felt nothing when she said those words. She saw that he turned pale at the mere mention and furrowed his brow.
"− I've already said it − it didn't come to anything − it was not my desire to sink between the thighs of a whore that hundreds of men already had, but Aegon wouldn't listen to me −" He muttered, clearly embarrassed and irritated that she had brought up the subject again.
"− what happened there? −"
Her uncle closed his eye and hid his face in his hand, clearly losing patience.
"− why do you want to discuss it now? −"
"− I thought you wanted to be honest with me, uncle − as I can see, nothing has changed −" She said dispassionately, rising from her seat, heading towards the door. She heard him draw in a loud breath and move restlessly in his chair.
"− I − fuck − she told me − she told me that Aegon paid her for my fulfilment − I didn't want − I didn't want to lie with her, so she just put her hand in my breeches −" He muttered, stammering. She looked over her shoulder at him − his head was dropped in shame, his jaw clenched, his lower lip quivering.
"− did you wish for this? −" She asked.
She saw that he swallowed hard, looking dully at his plate.
"− …no −" He whispered.
Something in the way he looked, in that confession made her feel a need to comfort him.
He threw her a surprised, horrified look, tense as she turned back and approached him slowly. He stared at her from below, unsure of what she was trying to do − her hand sunk into his hair, pressing his face into her stomach.
She pressed her lips together as his hands tentatively clenched on the material of her gown, his nose snuggling into her flesh as if seeking refuge.
"− I was afraid that she would have told Aegon if I − that the whole of King's Landing −" He muttered in a breaking voice, as if only now did he truly understand what had happened then.
"− shhh −" She hushed him, stroking his hair tenderly and calmly, recognising that despite her anger and grief, he deserved her to show him her understanding on the matter.
She didn't want to reject him, she just wanted him to understand his mistakes.
"− are you disgusted with me? −" He asked in a trembling voice, to which she responded with a quiet, tired sigh.
"− no − it is the woman who disgusts me − what would you think of me if I told you that when I was so young, a grown man touched me between my thighs despite my pleas? − would you have been disgusted with me? −" She asked quietly; she heard him swallow hard at the thought, his fingers digging harder into the fabric of her gown.
"− I would have killed him with my own hands − I would have brought you his head −" He hissed in a way from which, for some reason, she felt not discomfort but pride.
"− and I will bring it to you −" He began, and she blinked, looking at him surprised, not understanding what he meant. When he lifted his gaze to her, she froze, seeing something in his eye that she knew perfectly well.
"− I will bring you the head of Larys Strong − I am returning to King's Landing −"
His gaze went from intense and threatening to surprised and frightened as she let go of him immediately, turning pale as she took a few steps back, breathing heavily through her mouth.
I am returning to King's Landing.
"− you want to abandon me −" She muttered with regret and disbelief feeling her whole body was trembling − he stood up from his seat, horrified at how she reacted, shaking his head.
"− no − no, I want to make sure that no one dares to act behind my back anymore − that what happened will never happen again − I need to speak with my brother −"
She looked away, embracing herself tightly with her arms, trying not to cry, trying to maintain a semblance of indifference as the cold sweat of disappointment, fear and despair ran down her spine.
"− fly with me − this time of your own free will −"
"− no −" She declared immediately, startling him. "− this is the only place where I'm safe − the only place where I'm not afraid for my life − don't expect me to go back to my golden cage −"
He looked at her dully, with a disappointment mixed with sadness. He swallowed loudly and looked to the side, licking his lower lip with his tongue.
"− I see − so I'll do what is necessary and return here − I can't predict when that will happen −" He replied coolly in a way from which she felt her heart squeeze.
She pressed her lips together in rage as she felt involuntary warm tears one by one begin to run down her cheeks and hid her face in her hands as she finally burst into a helpless, loud sob.
He drew in the air loudly, not knowing what to do − she heard his footsteps, his strong arms embraced her, hugging her into his leather tunic. She snuggled into him, tightening her fingers on the material of it, feeling hot in her lower abdomen as his familiar, longed-for scent filled her nostrils.
"− will you betray me again? − will you stab a dagger into my heart? −" She mumbled in a quivering, breaking voice, imagining that he had given up once and for all, that he had decided that she was not worth such an agony, such an effort, such a sacrifice.
She heard him huff, sighing impatiently − he shook her body as if he wanted her to wake up.
"− what are you saying? − I'm doing all this for you − only for you −" He exhaled, uttering the last sentence while pressing his lips to her ear, his hot breath enveloping her cheek. She turned her face towards him and the tips of their noses touched − they stared at each other for a moment, his thumb running tenderly over the soft, hot skin of her face.
"− let me −"
She didn't object as his arms embraced her hips and lifted her up, as he headed to the bed with her, as he laid her gently on the sheets − he watched her face with his lips parted in desire as his trembling hands uncertainly lifted the material of her gown up, exposing her bare thighs.
She heard only the rustling of the material of his breeches before they both sighed − he took his swollen, long manhood in his hand and guided its pink, fat head to her slit, pushing against it, stretching her folds to the sides.
Though he didn't even touch her, her moist, puffy walls welcomed him easily as he slid deeper into her with a soft, slow, tender thrust of his hips.
He leaned over her, nuzzling his face into her cheek − she could feel his ragged, excited, hot breath enveloping her face.
"− I love you − I love doing this to you − I love feeling you − your warm, tight insides − your scent − gods, Rhaenys −" He breathed out, beginning to move inside her, with the gentle rocking of his hips slamming his cock into her again and again with the quiet click of their shared wetness.
She felt tears of emotion, pain, affection and fear run down from the corners of her eyes onto the pillow under her head, her fingers tightening on the material of his tunic.
"− uncle −" She mumbled helplessly like a small child − she felt his manhood pulsate hard inside her, felt his fleshy, swollen lips pressed against her cheek placing wet, hot kisses on it, his thrusts deeper, surer and faster, teasing a wonderful spot deep inside her.
"− I'm here − your husband is by your side −" He whispered, his words, his pushes, his hands stroking her cheeks and thighs so tender, so warm, that she gave herself to him completely, spreading her legs wider, letting him sink deeper into her with his low groan of pleasure.
Never had they made love so quietly, so close together, so helpless and vulnerable, never had she felt so frightened and so safe at the same time, his scent, his breath, the fact that she felt him deep inside her soothed her nerves.
"− don't leave −" She mewled, cuddling his body into hers, listening to the slickness of their naked bodies, the wonderful, tickling heat intensifying in her lower abdomen, her nipples under her gown growing hard and sensitive, her lips parted wide as his thighs slapped against her buttocks again and again.
"− I'll come back to you − I promise − I promise −" He exhaled, his lips, his tongue clinging to hers in sticky, dirty, loud kisses from which her fleshy muscles clenched around him, sucking him inside, both of them soaking wet from her moisture.
"− your seed − I want it inside me, uncle −" She mewled throwing her head back, feeling the tension inside her reach its peak, her hips responding greedily to his thrusts − he sighed loudly, surprised, rooting into her at last with all his might, pressing her body against the bed, which began to creak loudly beneath them.
"− I know − 'm close − Rhaenys − fuck-fuck-fuckkk −" He groaned, closing his eye, his hands finding hers and intertwining their fingers as his warm spend filled her womb, his lips parted in relief and pleasure. He pressed his face into the hollow of her neck not slowing down his pace, giving her what she needed until she came.
She reached her peak feeling it, clenching her fingers against his, moaning helplessly beneath him, trying to calm the convulsions of her body as his hips still rocked deep inside her for a moment longer.
"− Rhaenys − Rhaenys −"
They lay like this in silence, holding hands, trying to calm their shaky breaths, his manhood still pulsing inside her for a while, soft and warm.
She thought that never before had she felt so secure, so fulfilled as she did now, with him, with this man.
She wasn't sure where her body ended and his began − it seemed to her that they intertwined like vines and had long since become one.
She had always known that something was missing in her without him.
A single, solitary tear ran down the side of her face at the thought that he would no longer be with her.
He felt it, felt the moisture on her cheek and lifted his gaze to her.
"− no − no, my love − shhh −" He hushed her, stroking her hot face with his thumb, wiping a wet trail off it.
He gave her a tender kiss, long and drawn out, the way she had always imagined a man would kiss the woman he loved.
She felt hot in her heart at the thought.
Her mother, on hearing that her uncle intended to return to King's Landing, was not pleased, but neither did she object when she learned her daughter intended to stay by her side. She allowed him to leave; he did not, however, receive a warm farewell and, as she understood, did not expect one at all.
She was the only person to lead him away − the sun shone high in the sky as they approached Vhagar, her gown, his cloak and their hair blowing in the wind. He turned towards her, his hand raised to her face, seeing the sadness painted on it.
"− my wife −" He said quietly and kissed her forehead, like when they were little children.
He did this whenever he wanted to reassure her, when they were alone and he was unable to find the words to give her comfort.
She felt a squeeze in her heart at that thought, that he remembered it, that, like her, he held all those memories deep inside his heart.
"Why can't I have a beautiful hair colour like you, uncle? It's not fair. Many women in the world have dark hair, but not white." She muttered, fiddling with the fabric of her gown as she sat beside him on the wide windowsill in his chamber, a book in his hand.
They spoke of House Targaryen and Old Valyria, reflecting on their trip to Essos and what they wanted to see there first.
She lifted her gaze to him and saw that he was looking at her with his eyes wide open, as if there was something about the subject she had brought up that frightened him for some reason. He grunted quietly and licked his lower lip, swallowing hard, looking away.
"Well…I understand your sadness. But that was heaven's decision." He replied calmly, turning the page, apparently wanting to close the discussion quickly.
"Aren't you disappointed that your future wife doesn't have snow-white hair?" She mumbled in a breaking voice, pressing her lips together, feeling her chubby cheeks turn red from the tears that had welled up under her eyelids.
He looked at her, shocked to hear her question, his lips parted when he saw that she was on the verge of bursting into sobs.
She was afraid she had been a disappointment to him.
"− I − well − I never considered it − I don't feel any disappointment about it − I am fond of your dark, long eyelashes − they make your eyes seem even bigger − your curls are soft to the touch −" He muttered, apparently trying to get anything out of himself and her face lit up with a wide, grateful smile. He looked at her and sighed finally, the corner of his mouth also lifting up lazily.
"− don't think about it −" He hummed, laying his hand on the back of her head and leaned in, placing a warm, soft kiss on her forehead.
All she could think about was that, that sunny summer day when his hand dropped as he stepped back and turned, walking towards Vhagar, warm tears of grief, sadness and helplessness running down her cheeks one after another.
For the next few days, she felt as she had for the eight years she had been separated from him.
She locked herself in her chamber, eating almost nothing, reading and reflecting on everything that had happened.
She shuddered when she heard a knock on her door. She wanted to say that she longed to be left alone, but she heard a familiar voice from behind them.
"May I come in?"
Baela.
She swallowed quietly and rose to sit on her bed, sighing.
"Yes."
The door opened and her stepsister stepped inside, closing it behind her, bestowing upon her a calm, warm smile. She walked over to her and sat on the bed beside her, looking down at her hands.
"Did Jace tell you what he did?" She asked uncertainly.
She wanted her brother to admit it himself, to take responsibility for his actions.
He wasn't a little child anymore.
Baela looked at her and snorted.
"Yes. He asked me to apologise to you. He said he was unable to come here to do it himself out of shame. The sight of your uncle took his mind away." She muttered disapprovingly, shaking her head and running her hand over her face. She looked at her finally, concern and compassion in her gaze.
"How do you feel?" She asked quietly, her fingers tentatively reaching out to hers. She squeezed them, wanting to let her understand that her closeness meant a lot to her even though she couldn't express it.
"Empty." She whispered.
Baela pressed her lips together at her words.
"Because he's gone?"
"Yes."
"Is he coming back?"
"That's what he said."
They were silent for a moment, looking towards the window, contemplating.
"What he did…he shocked me. He's obsessed with you."
She furrowed her brow at her words.
"My brother?" She asked uncertainly, frightened by the thought that it might have been worse than she thought.
"Your husband."
She swallowed hard, feeling her heart heat at her words for some reason − she knew her cheeks lit up with a flush of shame at the memory of what he had done in front of them.
"− forgive me − I don't know what got into all of us then − you must have been embarrassed −" She muttered, lowering her gaze. Baela giggled at her words.
"− no, just the opposite − I felt jealous − when he embraced you, when he touched you, he wasn't looking at us anymore − he was looking at you − how madly in love do you have to be with someone to do something like this? −" She asked with amusement.
For some reason her words and light-hearted approach made her feel better. Her fingers clamped tighter on hers.
"I missed you. It's only now that I realised that. You were always so good to me." She mumbled in shame, thinking of how she had never shown her as much warmth as she should have, sunk in her grief and pain.
"You've always been that way towards me too."
She shook her head.
"No. I couldn't let you into my heart. I couldn't −"
"You suffered. I know, you don't have to explain it to me. I never held it against you." She said calmly. As she extended her hand to her, Baela smiled and sighed as if relieved, laying down beside her, pressing her cheek against her breast.
"− what are you going to do with Jace? −" She asked uncertainly, stroking her shoulder, her pleasant floral oils teasing her nose. Baela laughed under her breath.
"− I'll raise him −"
They spent the evening together, conversing about everything and nothing, as if they were trying to recapture lost time. Rhaena eventually joined them, looking for her sister, finally laying down next to them.
They tried to forget, at least for a moment, what was happening around them.
It was as if she had never left Dragonstone.
After a few days, a servant interrupted her morning meal by saying that a message had arrived for her from King's Landing. She blinked, shocked, wondering what it could have been about, convinced that something bad had happened.
She nodded and dismissed the boy, ripping off the lac and unrolling the parchment as soon as he closed the door behind him.
I cannot sleep. When you are not by my side, I have nightmares. I dream that you are dying. In a sleep. In a fire. In childbirth. I think I am losing my mind. Write me immediately when you receive this message that you are alive and safe. Send it to Harrenhal, for there I set out on my mission to end the life of Larys Strong once and for all.
You will have his head.
Aemond
She swallowed loudly, feeling the rapid pounding of her heart, joy and disbelief, for it was the first time in her life that she was the one to receive a letter from him.
The letter he had written her before he flew to Storm's End had been an act of desperation, but now it was a confession of his free will, a desire to communicate to her what he had felt and experienced during their separation.
She was touched by it.
She immediately sat down at her desk and began to write, not wanting him to wait any longer than necessary for her reply.
I am alive, my husband, and I am in good health. Do not fret, I know I am safe here. I ask you, whatever you intend to do, not to take the life of Alys Rivers. I am owed a debt to her and her death is not my desire. Return to Dragonstone as soon as you can.
Rhaenys
She rolled the parchment in her hand and summoned her servant, ordering that the message be sent to Harrenhal and that it be passed directly into her husband's hands.
The next few days passed as she waited for his reply − she feared that something had happened, that her father's brother would realise why he had come there, that he was in danger.
One morning when she got up she simply fainted, her head hitting the table − she lay like that for a long time, unconscious until one of the servants came into her chamber, wanting to help her dress.
Her mother panicked and immediately summoned the maester, ordering him to examine her. When she woke up, she heard her conversation with Daemon, and recognised their voices despite not seeing them.
"Is he absolutely sure?"
"Yes, he had no doubt. It may be a sign, Daemon. I −" Her mother paused, turning towards her, hearing that she was trying to get up.
"− no − no, my love − lie down and rest −" She said with concern, placing her hand on her shoulder, the other fixing a pillow under her head, warmth, tenderness, concern in her eyes.
"− what happened? −" She mumbled, feeling that her head ached badly. Her mother smiled at her in a way that warmed her heart.
"− you are carrying a child inside you −"
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Oops 🤭 teehee, relapsed <3
#king posts#self harm m#as well as description coming up so like don't read ->#but like... only shallow cuts tho#and only a few on one thigh#it did draw a little bit of blood#but I feel a bit better tho!#cutting has always helped#like for an unhealthy coping mechanism it really does wonders for making me feel better#it's like all the sad thoughts just seep out of my cuts along with the blood#the sad thoughts are stored in the blood lmao#like I still want to die but I'm not going to kill myself#not that I was going to anyways UHJGKFD#too pussy for that yet#but wev. going to bed now. I need sleep
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one of the lesser talked about fun things about intentionally reading more books is finding new stuff to be a bit of a hater about tbh
#and i know sometimes im probably just not properly picking up whatever the writer is putting down but whatever it's still fun#to actually know what you think about stuff like the highly regarded classics and extremely popular hyped up things#here are a few writers im a bit of a hater about w my opinions now btw#neil gaiman: does not do it for me at alllll#have read the graveyard book and american gods and hated almost every minute of both#in american gods i just found the aesthetic ideas and characters completely unappealing and in the graveyard book#i thought it was dreary and not well described enough... kept feeling like it was too bare bones in some way to picture things properly#i was like 'hmm i wish this was one of his graphic novels instead bc i'd like to be able to see what's going on here a bit better...'#also his humour just never lands for me and i do not often get his references either#ray bradbury annoys me in a similar way to neil gaiman but also somewhat oppositely like where#the way they write characters and plots and ideas and the stuff they care about gets on my nerves in an almost identical way#that i don't know how to define except to say i had a bit of a 'same energy' experience reading Something Wicked This Way Comes#and some of neil gaiman's stuff#but unlike neil gaiman i think that ray bradbury attempts to describe things unusually so much and TOO much#to the point that it takes me out of the story in a different yet similar way#to how the lack of description in neil gaiman's stuff does#what else have i become a bit of a hater about or did not get the appeal of lately? hmmm#oh hp lovecraft hahahaha#least scary stories ever god everything he's scared of is so dumb#like even aside from his extremely racist takes and fear of the 'exotic other' his fears about being cosmically insignificant are just like#yeah and? whats so scary about that hahaha i literally just dont get it#also the amount he writes dialogue in heavy accents annoys the shit out of me#p
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I'm very tired, I have to do everything around the house myself (as in, I keep having to turn the water off and on to the kitchen sink until I teach myself to install a new faucet, and negative cleaning gets done if I don't do it), and the money is in the hands of the third worst person in the whole family when it comes to money (the worst being my grandpa who is dead, and my grandma who blows all her money on overpriced jackets and other junk)
I'm very tired, I have to teach myself how to do everything, and I have almost literally no support in any way shape or form ever
I can't remember the last time anyone said they were proud of me... I don't actually know if anyone's ever used that word with me before. When I do something like get the trailer cleaned out or buy a house, frankly no one gives a fuck, except my grandma who gets mad
I haven't actually had a chance to see anyone that counts as a friend in like 15 years, and I mean even in high school everyone liked me but no one could be bothered to actually ever even talk outside school... so even back then it's not like I had anyone I was close with
I'm providing this version where I totally remove how I feel or how I view myself from the description and instead try to provide something close to an objective description of things
So if you wonder why I say what I say about myself, honestly I think it's pretty much all summed up here
#mm tag so i can find things later#also this is why you can maybe piss off instead of coming around here and saying I should get off the internet and go to therapy#in spite of how morose I am; I'm actively working to fix this stuff by... at least learning more of the skills I need#like... learn to replace a faucet; then at least I don't have the sink issue weighing me down#and maybe if I fix enough of it someday things'll be ok#although... in my mind no matter what I do I'll still be alone and unlovable; but that's just a description of how I view things#regardless of how I may feel; I am trying to do stuff to fix how I feel by trying to fix my situation#so like... if you're gonna come here and tell me I need to fix my mental health#may I respectfully say either you can lend me a hand or maybe you should mind your own business#cause what the fuck do you think I'm trying to do?#not that anyone will read this or particularly care#not trying to be rude or something; just extrapolating past data to make a prediction#it's not that people here don't care or don't like me; it's just we're all busy with our own lives and no one really knows what to do#well I'm... I'm trying to write you a guide; I'm asking for help here#...to an extent it's totally fine if no one helps... but you kinda don't get to go around acting like you love being asked for help#I mean... you do; it's your life... but I'm just saying... this is me asking for help... yet again#but I expect nothing because that's what usually happens#I really don't mean to... to imply anything about anyone else; it's just descriptively I don't get help and I don't get support#and... based on all the information I have my model for the outcome of this says no one will even notice it#that tag of mine of things I can find later or whatever... it has me outright saying a number of things#...no one ever hears or listens#anyway; there it is... another pointless cry for help#...don't say I didn't warn you when I wind up killing myself one day#probably not anytime soon; maybe not ever... all I'm saying is don't pretend you didn't see it coming or like I didn't reach out#at least... as best I could... maybe I could have done better#like sure; could I walk up to specific people and say 'I need you to do this'; sure...#but I find... I find people just ignore it if I say that too#so I've given up; you know?#this is the best I can muster#don't say I didn't tell you
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I feel like the Hbomberguy plagiarism video has a lot of really good lessons about building an argument.
Like, the thesis of the video isn't just "Plagiarism is rife on Youtube", although that point was certainly well made, it was specifically about James Somerton, who isn't mentioned until about halfway through the video.
Before then, Hbomb goes through several creators who are already widely discredited as plagiarists, and in each section he introduces concepts that are later incorporated into the final takedown of Somerton, but each section also stands on it's own.
Like, he starts with Filip, the game reviewer, which he uses to introduce the format of how he will discuss and expose plagiarists. Specifically, the graphic of displaying the source material while the plagiarist's voice plays, and marking up said source material every time the plagiarist changes some wording slightly. This is the method that Hbomb uses across the entire video.
With Illuminaughtii, Hbomb introduces a few major concepts
1) The idea of Insufficient citation. Illuminaughtii "Cites" her sources by putting a plaintext pastebin link in her video descriptions with no indication of how each source was used. Technically, her source is CITED, but not in any relevant or useful way. She has a big list of stuff she read, and a random youtube link in there happens to be the source that she stole 90% of the video from.
2) He introduces the profit motive behind this approach. Putting out a lot of content very quickly is how one builds an audience, and therefore an income, out of making stuff on youtube. Plagiarism of this sort is a way to produce content very quickly and build a following.
The Internet Historian section introduces two new concepts:
1) The behavior of an exposed plagiarist, taking down and reuploading videos with minor changes, awkwardly trying to insert credit without admitting guilt.
2) That the plagiarists are stealing not just research, but STYLE. Previous sections go over how the plagiarists are reusing the same words, but this section oozes over how much of the final product's quality was the result of how well the source material was written. TIH didn't just crib the notes from the Mentalfloss article, he created a video heavily dependent on the original author's skill as a writer. When TIH tried his own hand at presenting the same set of facts, it came out much worse.
So that when the time comes for the Somerton takedown, Hbomb has already laid the groundwork to bring these concepts back. Somerton takes down and reuploads videos when he's caught, he declares this his video is "based on" work by somebody else without providing proper citation. He's not just stealing research done by somebody else, he's taking their insights and talent as a writer and regurgitating it as his own, and he's doing so to churn out a vast wall of content that he can financially benefit from, and he doesn't need to tell you why this is important, because he's already done so. He already convinced you that Illuminaughtii hiding a line in a pastebin didn't excuse her plagiarism, so you don't need to be told why Somerton saying his video is "Based On" somebody else's book doesn't excuse it.
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Do you have any advice and how to write a long fic?
I'll encourage long fic writers to add on in the notes, but as someone who tends to prefer short and medium-length fic, I'll tell you how I go about it.
Get a premise that you just absolutely love. You're going to be writing this thing for months, if not longer, so you want it to be something you're willing to spend a lot of time thinking about.
Embrace subplots. You'll have your main plotline that you want to see through from beginning to end, but you can also weave in some subplots here or there. The way I do this so that I don't get lost down a rabbit hole is that I always make sure that every chapter has at least 1 thing that moves the main plot forward and then if I want to spend 1-2K with some side characters doing something fun I can do that as well. Subplots can extend for the length of the full narrative, but they can also just last a chapter or three. If you're used to writing short fic, these might give you that familiar feeling of "completion"
A chapter is only as long as it needs to be. Don't get hung up on having a consistent chapter length. Don't get hung up on hitting some arbitrary number every time. Instead, figure out what the next part of your story needs to include and write however many words it takes to get that chunk across. Varying your chapter lengths is a normal thing to do and not something to stress about.
The next thing that I find important personally may or may not be relevant to you, but I find that I can't plot anything in much detail. If I get too into the nitty gritty with my plotting, it just feels like I've already written it. I need to keep it at the level of "And then A and B meet C and hijinks ensue." I can figure out the particular hijinks later. It's the characters meeting up that's the next important thing for me to figure out. Getting too far ahead of myself is a death knell for me in writing long fics, but there are other writers who swear by it. Test out different ways of approaching it and see what works for you.
As someone who tends to write more briefly, another feature that's common to longer fics is more extensive descriptions. People spend time painting visual pictures of the setting or the characters or the actions that are happening. Write the more bare-bones style that focuses more on dialogue (if you're like me) and then go back and read through what you've just written and see if there are opportunities to add in more detail. This can lead to some really interesting characterization choices and also help you out with worldbuilding.
When it comes to worldbuilding, you don't have to get it all on the page. You just need to share what's relevant for the reader in that moment and what is useful to lay out now so that it's already there in a future chapter. You can have an encyclopedic knowledge of how your world works in your head, but it's not actually necessary. No one is going to be quizzing you later - and if they do, you can always figure it out at that point.
Most important for me when I'm trying to get myself to the end of a longer fic, have a friend or a group of friends who are also into what you're writing - or at least willing to hear you get excited about it. Being able to get excited about your work is so important. It's like a bottle of water being handed to you on mile 10 of a marathon.
#asks and answers#long fic writers go!#and short fic writers who have successfully written long#how did you go about it?#long post
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How They React to Your Death
My HCs about how I think the Genshin boys would react to your death. I wanted to write Kaeya too, but ran out of steam.
This month has been terrible to me, so I was in the mood for angst. I don't know how well these turned out, but they were fun to think about.
Characters: Alhaitham, Childe, Heizou, Kaveh, Lyney, Neuvillette, Venti, Wanderer/Scaramouche, and Wriothesley
WARNING:
Reader has death descriptions. Some are more graphic than others, but I don't get into the nitty gritty details.
Spoilers for the backstories of all the mentioned boys.
MAJOR SPOILERS for Act V of the Fontaine Archon quest in Neuvillette's part.
Childe's part contains mention of suicidal thoughts.
Kaveh's and Venti's parts contain alcoholism
🎧 Alhaitham
Despite Alhaitham’s considerable wealth, no amount of money could cure your Eleazar sickness. His money could only buy treatment that prolonged your life a little bit, but ultimately your many years of battling the illness ended when he got news from the doctors that you had passed away in your sleep.
Alhaitham had accepted the news fairly quickly. He knew your death was inevitable, could see you slowly wasting away each time he visited you in the hospital over the past few months. So it was no surprise to him when the day finally came. The other patients and staff thought it strange how Alhaitham had no visible reaction to the news, but some chalked it up to shock when in truth the Scribe was simply accepting of that fact. There was no use denying something that already happened.
When Alhaitham came home that day, the house felt silent and empty. It reminded him of how the house felt when his grandmother passed away when he was younger. The sensations were similar. However, he did not cry over your death. Instead, he carried on his life as normal, or as close to it as he could now that you were no longer a part of what he considered ‘normal’.
At first glance, people thought that Haitham was unaffected by your death. Nothing about him changed. Not his mannerisms, his quality of work, or his expression. He remained the same reserved, stoic Scribe who had no time for trivial nonsense or extra work. He also never talked about you to others aside from confirming their question if you were truly gone. Alhaitham was like a well-oiled machine that worked efficiently like clockwork, keeping up the same even rhythm.
What they don’t see is how he comes home with the expectation of hearing your voice greet him upon entering, only to be faced with a defeating silence that makes his heart sink. They don’t know that Alhaitham wakes up throughout the night, expecting to find you snuggled up next to him in bed the way you used to before your sickness got worse, and you had to be hospitalized. However, you weren’t there no matter how many times he looked towards your side of the bed, and the Scribe could only sigh and try to fall back asleep while ignoring his aching heart.
No one sees how Alhaitham gets too lost in his books in the mornings and accidentally makes two cups of coffee instead of one due to force of habit. Or how, for once, he finds the silence of his house bothersome without your voice and the sounds of your activities resounding within the walls, and it’s enough to distract him from reading. He could be found reading at the House of Daena and Puspa Café more often from then on.
During his afternoon naps, Alhaitham sneaks back home and cradles your favorite blanket to mimic the sensation of holding your soft body in his arms the way he used to when you joined him for naps. He listens to recordings of you talking with him just so he can hear your voice again. He was glad he made the decision to record your voice at the hospital before you became too weak to speak. It gave him the chance to hear you one more time even if the sound of your voice made his chest hurt so much that he occasionally had to stop the recording to collect himself.
Nobody sees how Alhaitham finally picks up the fiction books you recommended him because they were your favorite. He prefers non-fiction, but these books are the last things he has left through which he could connect to your mind and way of thinking. He reads them all cover-to-cover even if he finds the story lacking or the writing not to his taste. He will learn to treasure each and every word because you once did.
What someone might see, as Kaveh did when he moved in with the Scribe, is a bookshelf filled with a few journals, a thick book with an emerald cover, and an assortment of fiction books that exist nowhere else in the house. Alhaitham never talks about these books unless asked, but their well-worn covers are a sign of frequent use, and sure enough, one can catch him reading a rare fiction book during one specific month each year.
🐋 Childe
You went missing after going out to collect some firewood in the woods near Childe’s home. A search party was arranged to find you with Childe in the lead, and he was also the first one to find your remains. Your body had been torn apart, blood and innards splattered across the snow, no doubt the work of some rifthounds. Usually, Childe would relish in such a gory sight, but not this time. Not when it’s your blood and flesh painted in the snow.
The sight leaves him numb. He’s numb when the search party comes to retrieve you, numb when he sees your parents weeping over your gruesome death, and numb when he takes on the duty of exterminating every rifthound he finds around Morepesok.
He wants to cry too, to grieve for you the way he needs, but refrains. He doesn’t want to appear weak and unreliable when his younger siblings mourn and cry over your death. You were like family to them, and your death broke their little hearts to pieces. Childe didn’t want to burden his siblings further by breaking down in front of them. He needed to remain a reliable older brother who could support them through this tough time, even when his own heart bled and he cried in his sleep when he dreamed about you.
Childe’s underlings noted that the Eleventh Harbinger became colder and more irritable after your passing. Any mention of your name would garner the speaker a harsh glare, and if Childe assumed what said person said about you was disrespectful, he didn’t hesitate to start a fight and beat the other person within an inch of their life. He became violent and unhinged, much like how he used to be when he returned from the Abyss as a fourteen-year-old boy.
Childe knew his behavior was irrational, and it pained him to see even his own family fear him due to his violent actions. He felt restless. Spending time at home among your belongings summoned feelings of longing and sadness, but even so, he couldn’t bear to throw anything away. He lived among the ghosts of your existence, however, it drove him mad with grief.
Childe needed an outlet for his emotions, so he took to fighting monsters and other strong opponents. He became even more reckless in battle. If before, the Harbinger sought out strong enemies to test his mettle against them and grow stronger as a result, now he sought out an opponent that would be worthy of taking his life.
Childe didn’t want to abandon his family. He loved them dearly and wanted to see his siblings grow up to be happy and successful people, but life without you felt so hollow. A part of him wanted to return to his family, but the sense of his family feeling incomplete never left him. You were just as much of a family to him as his siblings and parents were. He had plans to start his own family with you. But now… now, a part of him yearns to reunite with you in the afterlife. He promised he would stay by your side no matter what, and Ajax is not one to break his promises.
🔍 Heizou
Heizou was one of the first to hear about your stabbing that occurred in an Inazuman alleyway late that evening. You were rushed to a doctor to have your wound treated, but the robber who attacked you hit a vital area. Your blood loss was colossal, and it wasn’t long after arriving at the doctor’s that you succumbed to your injury.
To Heizou, the news brought on a sense of deja vu. He’s already lost a friend to crime in the past, and now he lost you to crime, too. The knowledge made him furious and heartbroken. He was angry at the robber for stabbing you just so he could steal some money that you didn’t want to part with, and he was angry at himself for failing to prevent this. After his friend passed away, Heizou swore to nip crime in the bud by discouraging criminals from committing crimes with the threat that he would find and capture them no matter what without fail. But what good did his resolve do if you still died because of an armed robber?
The heartache and guilt he felt ate away at him as the memory of your ashen face during your last few moments haunted him. He lost you. Never again would he get to spend time with you and make you laugh, kiss and hug you, or tell you he loved you.
His anger drove him to capture the murderer in record time, but hearing the criminal’s subsequent sentence for theft and murder didn’t comfort the detective. No amount of jail time would ever atone for the loss of your life.
After that day, Heizou lost his playful demeanor, becoming somber and reserved. He threw himself into his work, feeling pressured to capture as many criminals as he could in as little time as possible. However, his grief and exhaustion caused his mind to dull and make mistakes while investigating clues. It got to the point where Kujou Sara had to forcibly send him on vacation so he could take a break and properly process your death.
Despite his protests, Heizou knew he wasn’t much use in his current state, so he took this free time to visit your family and mourn together with them. He apologized for not doing a better job of protecting you, fully expecting your parents to lay blame on him for not protecting their child. To his surprise, your parents didn’t blame him at all. They even thanked him for catching the murderer and helping them to feel a little more at peace. Heizou’s interaction with your family helped him feel a tiny bit less guilty about your death.
The experience left him feeling a little less broken, so in the following days he sorted through your belongings in your shared home. He packed away some items to return to your parents, some things he put in storage, and others he gave away that he remembered you wanting to get rid of. A few of your items he kept for himself, one of which was a scarf you mentioned you bought because it was the same shade of green as his eyes which reminded you of him.
Heizou wore your scarf as a keepsake and good luck charm and would hardly be seen without it when he finally came back to work. What once served as your reminder of him, now served as his reminder of you, the person he loved with his whole being. But with the memories of you came the reminder of how you died. Though the memory was painful, it helped Heizou work up the will to keep pursuing his goal of eradicating crime. Even when the case was extremely tough with conflicting clues, your scarf would remind him to not give up, to not let another incident like yours happen again, and Heizou would persevere. He would continue to persevere no matter how long it took because he didn’t want innocent lives like yours to be snatched away so cruelly. Maybe one day, he will see you in the afterlife and proudly tell you all about how he achieved his dream. Until then, he will work hard to be worthy of the title of Inazuma’s best detective.
🍷 Kaveh
Kaveh had a lot of work to do. He was saddled with creating drafts for another large project while also trying to work on the commission for constructing a library in Aaru village for the children. Wanting to help alleviate his burden, you offered to take the finished drafts over to Aaru village yourself so he could focus on finishing up work for his other project. Kaveh tried to object, saying you really didn’t need to trouble yourself on his behalf, but you insisted, expressing your desire to help him finish his work sooner so the two of you could spend more time together again. After some deliberation, he let you go to the village by yourself, confident that you could make the trip since you accompanied him there several times before.
A few days later, Kaveh received news that you had died on your return trip from the desert. When he heard the cause of your death, his stomach roiled. You perished in quicksand just like his father. You died doing something for his sake, just like his father did.
Whatever future plans he was building together with you, whatever progress you made in helping him slowly heal from his trauma, it all came crashing down around him. Your death reopened old wounds Kaveh was only starting to heal from, as well as left new scars that tormented him every waking moment.
The first few weeks, Kaveh couldn’t stand to be in your shared home. It was full of memories of you, and each and every one of your belongings would stab at his heart like a blade. Moreover, the house felt so silent without you around. It reminded him of when his mother left for Fontaine, leaving him alone in a house too big for only him to live in. Now, he was reliving that moment all over again, but it was worse this time because, unlike his mother, he would never see you again.
Kaveh also couldn’t stand to look inside his sketchbooks. The pages were covered in various sketches of you, and looking at them only made the anguish and guilt grow in him tenfold. He blamed himself for your death, attributing it to being his fault just like he attributes his father’s death as his fault too. No matter what anyone says to console him, he will never stop believing it’s all his fault.
Fueled by guilt and self-loathing, Kaveh spent several weeks visiting Lambad’s tavern practically every day. One could even say he lived there since the architect seldom went home. He used what little money he had to buy alcohol, especially of the stronger kind. He wanted to numb the pain in his heart and to pretend that you weren’t really gone from this world. The alcohol helped to muddle his mind until his intoxicated brain conjured happy memories of you together, and Kaveh would mumble your name in a drunken haze. Other times it didn’t help, and Alhaitham, Cyno, or Tighnari could often find a drunk Kaveh quietly crying while slumped over a table and trying their best to drag him home while listening to his drunken babble of self-loathing and regret.
It will take a long time for Kaveh to feel okay again, and even then, he will never be the same optimistic and cheerful person he used to be. You were his muse, the one who made him feel like maybe he was deserving of love after all. But with you gone, he lost his creative spark. His designs no longer held the same extravagant and artistic flair they used to. Now, they’re more tame by comparison. With your passing, you took with you the little bit of joy he felt towards the world, and it seemed more bleak than it used to be when he was with you.
Kaveh refused to seek out love after your death. He’s lost too many people he held dear and has been left alone over and over again. The pain of being left behind and of feeling like he will only bring misfortune to those he cares about, made him seal off his heart. He doesn’t want to let people close to him like that again, and neither does he want to replace you. You were, and still are, very special to him.
Despite numerous years going by after your passing, Kaveh never forgot you, and he didn’t want your memory to be forgotten either. He built an art school and dedicated it to you in honor of being the one who inspired him so much in his creative endeavors. He hopes that your name will live on and continue to inspire future generations of artists long after he is gone from the world.
🎩 Lyney
Having grown up in the House of the Hearth with Lyney and Lynette, the twins were practically like family to you. Though admittedly, Lyney and you developed romantic ties rather than familial ones the more you got to know each other. It was no surprise to anyone when the two of you became a couple, and Lynette even encouraged it.
Being a member of the Fatui, you were often sent out on dangerous missions to infiltrate enemy territory and report your findings back to Arlecchino. You were good at your job and had major successfully completed missions under your belt, but even the best slip up sometimes.
After infiltrating enemy headquarters, you regularly reported your findings back to the House, however, one day the correspondence stopped. You went completely silent. The thought of you being caught immediately crossed Lyney’s mind, but he was hopeful that as an experienced agent, you would manage to find a way out somehow. You always have in the past, and after having worked together with you during joint missions, he saw first-hand how capable you were. To pass the time, he focused on polishing a magic trick he wanted to show you upon your return.
Days go by, and just as the magician is about to lose his patience and run off to try and find you, news about your body washing up on a riverbank reaches his ears. The heartbreak Lyney experiences upon hearing the news is indescribable. He felt lost, disoriented, and anguished. A part of him refused to believe the facts, but after witnessing the gruesome sight of your corpse, he had no choice but to face reality.
You were dead.
Lyney wondered at length about the cause of your death, and while his own guesses made his stomach knot, the autopsy report he read a few days later made him livid.
Numerous torture and abuse marks were found on your body. It seemed that the enemy had captured and tortured you, hoping to force you to spill some of the Fatui’s secrets. Judging by the severity of the most recent wounds, you must have kept quiet because more brutal torture methods were used on you until the enemy figured out they wouldn’t get anything out of you, and disposed of you.
Lyney knew how loyal you were to your family. You would never betray them even at the cost of your own life, but in that moment, he really wished you would have treasured your life more. Maybe then you could have survived. Maybe then he would have had the chance to hold you in his arms and tell you he missed you while you were gone. Maybe he would have had an opportunity to show off the magic trick he created specifically for your eyes only. But now, he’ll continue to miss you until the day death comes for him too.
Lyney’s initial reaction upon hearing of your torture is overwhelming fury. Lynette had to hold him back from recklessly running off to take revenge against the enemy. It took a lot of reasoning on her part, but eventually, her brother calmed down.
Once his bout of anger passed, Lyney broke down. Lynette didn’t hide her own tears as she held her brother in her arms while he cried. The siblings both missed you dearly and mourned your loss, but Lyney took your death especially hard. He felt broken. One of his most precious people was taken from him in such a cruel manner, and the mere thought of how you must have spent your last few waking hours made him feel horrible.
He was anguished and angry, and the potent concoction of negative emotions weighed down on his heart and mind. Gone was his cheerful smile and outgoing attitude, replaced with a cold and somber frown. His calculative side took center stage. Though his initial burst of outrage passed, he wouldn’t give up on his desire for revenge until the act had been carried out.
Aside from the twins, Arlecchino also refused to take your death lying down. You were her precious child, someone she put in a lot of love and effort to raise, and this transgression angered her as much as it angered Lyney. Together with Arlecchino, Lyney and Lynette infiltrate enemy headquarters and make every person a part of that organization pay. The magician ensures that the perpetrators experience the same pain you went through during your torture, and by the time they’re done, not a soul is left alive.
Even after exacting revenge, Lyney barely feels a smidge better. Though your captors have been neutralized and won’t hurt anyone the way they hurt you ever again, it doesn’t satisfy Lyney. At the end of the day, all he wants is to have you back in his life. He consoles himself with pieces of your clothing. Your clothes smelled like you, and Lyney hugged one of your items every night, breathing in your scent and soaking the material with his tears as he quietly cried.
It takes a long time for Lyney to get himself together and act like himself again. Though he could easily put on a fake smile for his audience, his heart still aches inside. He misses you no matter how many months go by, and Lynette has her hands full comforting him when he breaks down at night and cries about how much he wants to see you. Lyney would have had an easier time accepting your death if you had passed away more peacefully, but knowing you were tortured to death will forever haunt him.
Once he feels more like himself, Lyney incorporates the magic trick he originally wanted to show you upon your return into his magic shows. He only performs it during special occasions so it would leave a great spectacle upon his audience. It was once made to awe you, but now it awes his audience, and a part of him feels some semblance of catharsis in knowing he could inspire others to feel the same joy you made him feel using just this trick. At times like these, Lyney feels as if a part of you was still there with him, enjoying the show he secretly dedicates in your honor.
⚖️ Neuvillette
You were visiting your friend Navia in Poisson, when the Primordial Sea flooded the area and caused a great catastrophe that took the lives of many of its residents. Neuvillette was aware you were in Poisson when the disaster struck, and he tried to get there as quickly as he could to check on you. He would have arrived there immediately were it not for the pressing matters he had to settle prior. He hoped the Traveler and Paimon would find you and keep you safe since they knew you were the Iudex’s beloved.
When he finally made it to Poisson, to his morbid surprise, he found neither you nor Navia, but some Fatui members helping to mitigate the damage. When he asked about your whereabouts, he was told that nobody had seen you. Immediately, his thoughts ventured to the worst scenario, but he refused to believe in his fears until he could get confirmation. He held out hope that you were alright, and went in pursuit of Navia and the Traveler, hoping that maybe you were with them, or they knew what happened to you.
It wasn’t until he was saving Navia from getting dissolved in the Primordial Sea water, did he catch a glimpse of your face. You were trying to protect Navia from certain death, along with Silver and Meluse. At the time he was too anxious about saving Navia to fully register the implication, but an unsettling thought sprang in his mind that maybe you really were— No, he didn’t want to accept it.
When Navia regained consciousness, Neuvillette asked her about your whereabouts. Her answer pierced through him like an ice-cold lance. With tears in her eyes, Navia recounted how you were helping Silver and Meluse rescue the residents of Poisson when the Primordial Sea flooded in, and how she saw your body dissolve in the water along with her loyal subordinates with her own eyes. The news settled in Neuvillette’s stomach like a boulder, causing it to sink and make him feel nauseous. Dread filled him, but he could only muster a quiet “I see…” and stare off into the distance. He felt crushing sadness, but he wasn’t given time to properly process his emotions and your death until he managed to make it out of the ruins.
That evening, Fontaine was hit by a torrential downpour that lasted several days. The rain fell in heavy sheets, flooding the streets and urging most of the citizens to seek shelter in their homes. Only the Chief Justice had the gall to stand outside and let the rain seep and soak through his clothes.
Neuvillette let the water droplets cascade down his face, imitating the tears he wished to shed as the realization that he would never see you again settled in. It was strange. Though he was on land, each waking moment he was pursued by a constant feeling of drowning. His chest felt heavy as if burdened by a great weight that made each breath he took feel like a herculean task.
Neuvillette felt a lot of emotions he couldn’t find the words for. He was frustrated and angry that innocent civilians had died in the flood because nothing was done to prevent it. So many people died. You died. If nothing else, he wanted to get justice for your and the others’ deaths.
However, Furina refused to provide answers to his questions despite his probing and insistence that now was not the time to keep secrets that could potentially help prevent an even greater catastrophe. That was when he turned to seeking aid from his companions, in the hopes that Fontaine could still be saved. Neuvillette lost and gained many things in those few days. The citizens of Fontaine were freed of their curse, and Neuvillette had obtained a position of complete authority, however, it all came at the cost of the lives of innocent civilians, Focalors’s life, Furina’s mental state, and… your life. Those were great prices to pay, and Neuvillette mourned each and every sacrifice.
Now that he had some time to himself to process his feelings, Neuvillette recognized that what he felt was grief and longing. He wanted to see you at least one more time, to feel you in his arms again. To have you taken from him so suddenly was too painful. He never got to tell you one last ‘I love you’, and he could only hope that his words reach you wherever your consciousness might be now. Fontaine will see frequent rainfall in the coming months. It won’t be easy for Neuvillette to get over your death, and some part of him will always ache and yearn to see you again. But one thing he can do is strengthen his resolve to make Fontaine into a nation that both you and Focalors would be proud of. A nation where tragedies like these will never happen again.
🍃 Venti
Venti liked to climb up on high places like his statue in front of the Favonius church, the rooftop of the Cat’s Tail, or the great tree at Windrise. Today, you found him high up in the tree, absentmindedly strumming a new tune on his lyre. Wanting to surprise the bard, you tried your best to climb the tree as quietly as you could, but right as you were about to pop up and surprise him, the branch you were on snapped, and with a heart-stopping shriek, you plummeted down to the ground.
Your scream alerted Venti. He felt your presence before you even started climbing the tree, but he failed to foresee the danger until it was too late. He didn’t react fast enough to summon a gust of wind to safely lower you down. The sickening crunch of your skull hitting the ground made his stomach roil, and for a brief moment he felt as if the blood in his veins turned to ice. He felt frozen in place.
Snapping out of his momentary stupor, Venti rushed to your side to check on you, but the enormous pool of blood blooming around your lifeless body made him throw up.
Not again. He lost someone he loved once more. The painful emotions of losing you triggered a cascade of memories of seeing the broken body of that one boy he called a friend thousands of years ago. The same boy whose face he now wore as a way of honoring his memory and giving him an opportunity to live out his dreams of freedom through Venti.
Venti felt that same feeling of heavy emptiness once again as he cradled your lifeless body in his arms, your blood smearing the white sleeves of his shirt. One of the bard’s hands cradled your still-warm cheek, and he wept. To have you taken away so easily through such a small accident… it was too much.
Venti didn’t attend your funeral. He couldn’t bear to. However, he forced himself to watch from a distance as your loved ones gathered around your grave. He fully empathized with their grief.
In the following days, one could often find Venti at a tavern. He started with Angel’s Share, but after consecutive days of heavy drinking and drunken ramblings about how remorseful he felt and how you deserved better, Diluc put a stop to Venti’s visits. The Anemo Archon wasn’t getting any better from drinking himself into a stupor until he could barely hold himself upright. It was heartbreaking to see.
Even after being banned from the Angel’s Share, Venti would visit other taverns in the city and rinse and repeat. He so badly wanted to numb the pain in his heart and forget the awful memory of your lifeless body. Only after several bans did Venti finally stop coming to the city altogether. He disappeared for a while, and nobody was able to find him. Only after many weeks did the bard suddenly pop up in the town square with his lyre in hand.
During his absence, Venti wrote a few songs as a way to cope with his grief, and after a while, finally felt well enough to play them. As a bard, he was well-known in Mondstadt for playing cheerful and beautiful tunes, but this time his melodies were melancholic, even sad. They listened to him sing about a love he can no longer say ‘I love you’ to anymore, someone he can no longer forge new memories with and can only carry on in his heart as a memory. The music he played captured the attention of every member of the audience and touched their hearts so deeply that they, too, could feel the sorrow the bard was trying to convey through his melodies. His pain became their pain, too. The heartache was so profound, so raw and crippling, that many people couldn’t hold back from crying.
Venti wasn’t playing the songs to earn money or share his sadness with others. He was playing them for you. He hoped that his feelings would reach you wherever you were and that your memory wouldn’t fade away even if he remained the last person alive who knew of your existence. His songs will keep your memory alive in the hearts of the Mondstadt citizens, never to be forgotten.
☂️ Wanderer
You have been fighting chronic sickness for months, but despite the treatments, each week you seemed to get worse and worse. Neither the doctors of Sumeru nor even Nahida herself could figure out a cure for your condition. You were bedridden with barely any strength to move. Wanderer took responsibility for nursing you back to health by helping you get to places you needed, cooking all your meals and feeding you, as well as getting your medicine and administering it.
Despite his efforts, you could tell you wouldn’t last long. While you still had the strength to talk, you apologized to him for being forced to part from him.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed, with a frown pulling at his lips. “Rather than talk about such nonsense, use that energy to get better instead.”
He didn’t want to face the facts, to accept the reality that you could disappear from his life. But then came a day where you no longer opened your eyes when he called your name, nor stirred when he tried to shake you awake. Your body was cold and stiff and so unlike what he was used to seeing you as. The life you possessed was gone in all senses of the word.
Something in Wanderer snapped that day. Falling to his knees, he let out a guttural scream that tore at his vocal cords. He unleashed a wail that carried all the anguish and misery he’d been keeping bottled up inside for hundreds of years. He’s lost so many people he cared for in the past. Each time he met someone he grew attached to, fate would always tear them away from him, and you were no exception.
He cried bitter tears in the privacy of your shared home, cursing Fate for doing this to him over and over again. He was angry and heartbroken. Though he lacked a real heart, the sensation in his chest felt like something inside him broke into a million tiny fragments. As if sharp needles pierced through his non-existent heart and caused him to scream until he lost his voice.
He wanted revenge, but how can one get vengeance against Fate itself?
You were gone, so cruelly torn away from his side despite his best efforts to keep you alive. You were the little ray of light that never gave up on him no matter how cold he was towards you or how much he pushed you away, and helped him heal little by little. You accepted him in his entirety and wormed your way into his non-existent heart, so how dare Fate mock him like this? Wanderer truly felt as if Fate was purposely torturing him by taking away all those whom he held dear.
Helpless and anguished, Wanderer reverted to the days when he used to be Scaramouche, the sixth of the Fatui Harbingers who was infamous for his callousness and mercilessness. His roiling emotions spurred him to repeat these spiteful acts against anyone who got in his way. It was the only way he knew of how to vent these overwhelming emotions that made him feel like he was choking on his grief.
It took Nahida’s interference to calm him down and get through to him that you wouldn’t want him to be like this. The Wanderer you fell in love with wasn’t such a hateful person driven by negative emotions, and though he was loathe to admit it, the God of Wisdom was right.
Having quelled the initial burst of wounded anger, Wanderer would think more clearly about what he should do from now on. He could keep all your items, photographs, and letters, but they would never replace you, only help preserve some of the memories attached to them, which a puppet like him had no need for. He won’t forget even the smallest thing about you, not as long as he’s alive.
Wanderer becomes a regular visitor of your grave, taking care of it so your name won’t be erased from the gravestone by time too quickly. He would frequently bring your favorite foods and flowers and place them in front of your grave, before taking a seat next to it and staring off into the distance without saying a word. He did this mostly at night so he could stargaze, just like how you both used to when you were alive.
Even centuries later, when everyone who knew you took their memories of you to their graves, Wanderer will remain to watch over your final resting place, unwavering in his devotion.
🐺 Wriothesley
You accompanied Wriothesley on another one of his swims out in the open waters surrounding the Fortress. Since you weren’t a vision holder, you had to wear a diving suit to breathe, unlike your beloved Duke. You’ve had these private little swim dates a few times before, so your guard was down when you swam through some jagged areas of the Fortress’s scaffolding. The shoulder of your diving suit caught on a sharp edge of metal and tore a hole in it. The tear was fairly large, and you panicked when you felt water rush inside your suit.
Wriothesley was quick to freeze the hole and pull you up to the surface to get the suit off of you, but by the time he did, it was too late. You had inhaled too much water and were unresponsive. Wriothesley tried to keep his anxiety at bay and utilized all the CPR knowledge he learned from Sigewinne to try and save your life. He breathed air into your lungs and did chest compressions with enough force to hear your ribs crack, but even after 30 agonizing minutes of trying, you wouldn’t wake up.
Wriothesley had no choice but to accept the fact you died.
Wriothesley doesn’t cry for you. He’s no stranger to death. His exposure to it in his younger years made him all too aware of how easy it is to die, and that death came for all without exception. As a result, he was able to accept your death a little easier than most, but it doesn’t mean he made peace with it.
The staff and inmates at the Fortress all said Wriothesley looked the same as usual even after your death. He kept up his laidback yet intimidating demeanor and busied himself with the variety of work someone in his position was required to take care of. Only Sigewinne could tell that Wriothesley was not alright despite all the strained smiles he gave everyone. The bags under his eyes grew more prominent by the day, a clear indicator he wasn’t sleeping well. She saw how he threw himself into his work, barely taking any time to rest properly, as if wanting to keep his mind busy from the horrible memory of seeing your corpse.
Though he tried to mask it, in truth, your death affected Wriothesley deeply. He had frequent nightmares about watching you drown and being unable to save you, and they would keep him up at night. He usually awoke in a cold sweat, his heart pounding from intense panic and dread until his mind cleared, only to be replaced with a stone-cold reality that made the feelings of guilt come rushing back. Out of habit, he turns to your side of the bed to seek comfort in your presence but seeing it cold and empty served as yet another harsh reminder that you were gone. Wriothesley can’t sleep after his nightmares, so he opts to work out or fuss over his gauntlets to distract himself from his feelings. It takes all his self-control to keep a lid on his emotions and not become the angry, irritable mess he knows he will be if he’s not careful.
When he makes tea, Wriothesley accidentally makes two cups out of habit. One for you and one for him. Even weeks after your passing, it was still a difficult habit to break. For the first while, Wriothesley would even stop drinking your favorite tea blend because it reminded him of you. Rather than enjoy the flavor, all he tastes is bile in his throat. The flavor of your favorite tea makes him nauseous because it makes him think about how you will never taste this again or have another tea date in his office.
There was one occasion when he tried to drink your tea shortly after your death. He thought maybe the flavor would remind him of the happy times he shared with you, but all it resulted in was a broken teacup from the force of his grip, and Sigewinne fussing over his cuts and burns. He didn’t drink your favorite blend for a long time after that, only being able to find enjoyment in it again many years later when the startlingly clear memory of your death didn’t hurt him as much.
Wriothesley felt lonely without you. You were the friend and confidant he told his deepest and darkest secrets about his past, the comfort he sought after a difficult day, and the soothing presence that made him feel accepted for who he was without all the embellished titles. But after your passing, the Fortress of Meropide seemed cold and gloomy, as if devoid of the warmth it once had that made him call it home. It was as if your death snuffed out the little ray of warm sunshine he felt when spending time with you.
#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#alhaitham x reader#childe x reader#tartaglia x reader#heizou x reader#shikanoin heizou x reader#heizou shikanoin x reader#kaveh x reader#lyney x reader#neuvillette x reader#venti x reader#wanderer x reader#scaramouche x reader#kunikuzushi x reader#wriothesley x reader#For some reason Lyney's part is the longest
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just read all your imagines and they are so good!! just on here to req anything hobie brown related cos god that man is so fine. maybe like a one-shot where they are fwb cos hobie doest do labels but gets jealous and then asks reader to be his gf and then shows her off to everyone. just like really anything u want to write tbh ✨✨
end of line | h. brown
description. being friends with benefits with your best friend, hobie brown, is fun and all, but you start to realize that maybe firm labels suit you better than whatever this is
includes. slight smut SUGGESTIVE 16+, fem!reader referred to as “girl”, fluff, sweet!hobie, pav gwen and miles mention, rockstar!hobie
a/n: i have no words this was supposed to be uploaded like a week ago but then i went to disney so ... sorry yall. also not edited well bc ... disney. edit: title from the song by daft punk bc tron <3
word count: 1.7k+
things are still in your bedroom. they always are right before he arrives.
you're not a psychic, nor do you have a "spider-sense" (which, with the creepy-sixth sense way hobie described it, you don't want one either), but you like to think that you can tell when he'll come by.
nights when you haven't heard much from him, but the sirens seemed to never stop outside, were usually when your window would creek as it slid up.
you listen out for the sound now as you finish painting your last nail. you'd used the quick dry polish tonight, in hopes that you wouldn't have a repeat of last time, when your fingernails weren't dried but hobie was incredibly impatient and when you were done, you'd realized that your right ring and pinkie fingers were smudged.
the bottle's closed, you'd blown on your nail to ensure it dried, and that's when your window slides open.
there's no point in looking back at him when he tumbles into the room. he starts mumbling complaints as soon as the window's closed, the sound of his shoes unlacing padding his words, something about some common thief who hobie was going to let go but then he went and messed with the lady on the street and her cat.
you'd lost the tail end of his words whenever he started walking closer to you. you sat up straighter, pushed everything out of the way, and waited for him to turn your chair around.
which, when he did, you looked up at him, small smile on your lips as you stared into his deep brown eyes.
"how's your night, hm?" he asked, a courtesy before getting to the real action.
you shrugged, pretending to think. "nothing. just a lot of this."
"no smashing societal standards? picking off misogynists one by one?"
a small laugh in the form of a snort from you. "nah. figured i'd take a day off, you know?" the sarcasm dripping from your words. that's not who you were. you wish you could've been like that, could've been like hobie. but there's one spider-person for a reason.
"oh, yeah, uh-huh..." and hobie trailed off as he leaned in, pointer finger hooking under your chin to pull your lips to his.
it always felt good to kiss hobie.
you'd fantasized about it for weeks before it actually happened. he's your closest friend at the moment, and he occupied the title before this arrangement even existed. and of course you had the worry about ruining your beautiful friendship if you became more, fear that you wouldn't be able to go back and you would subsequently lose probably the best friend you've ever had.
but that was no need to worry. because while you could let hobie pull you up and lead you to your bed, sitting back and pulling you into his lap while he kissed you with a tenderness you know so well, you could also just be friends with him, sitting side by side on the couch and having a movie marathon of horrible biopics without thinking about jumping each other's bones.
there's a balance here that you could only hope would've existed.
and it's never thrown off. not even when he pulls your shirt over your head and his full lips find your nipples and the slightly-faded marks he'd left a few days ago. not even when he switches your position, laying you back and kissing down your torso until he can bury his head between your legs. not even when you whine and cry just a bit, slightly begging for him to pull his suit off so he can fuck into you in a way that only he can.
you try not to think about the equilibrium of your relationship with hobie when your legs hook around his waist and the heels of your feet dig into your lower back. you try to solely focus on the way his cock fills you up perfectly, mostly long with the right amount of girth for your walls, tip reaching deep within you in an almost mind bending way.
but you can't help but think about the way hobie doesn't do labels when he helps you to your bathroom, where he lets the shower heat up while you sit in a shirt he left behind a few days ago when he'd shown up as just hobie brown and not spiderman. you can't help but think about being hobie's girlfriend when his big, veiny hands run along your skin after the shower, smothering you in shea butter as you struggle to hold your eyes open. and you don't bother attempting to fight off the lasting thought of being hobie's while he hums an unknown song to himself with your head on his chest, the deep sound of his voice and the vibration of his chest lulling you to sleep.
you need to be someone's.
the friends with benefits scenario was fun, it worked, it was glorious, but you don't think it's for you. and labels aren't for hobie.
so, you look elsewhere.
you're at hobie's show, standing in the back of the pub with a drink you weren't interested in, with some guy you really weren't all that interested in, either. but he smelled nice, and he seemed nice, and you were just looking to broaden your horizons just a bit.
you and hobie weren't exclusive, but maybe it's a little wrong to flirt with someone else at his show. but you were slightly upset, and craving attention, so it didn't matter.
not until hobie got off stage.
it took a while for him to roam over to you, but even then you were still entertaining the other guy. giggling, tilting your head, batting your eyelashes, your hip popped out and a manicure, that was still fresh, blinging as your hand rested on the bone.
he greets you with a term of endearment that he uses often, but it feels different in this circumstance. you tell yourself that it feels different because you want it to feel different.
"oi, babe! who's this bloke?"
his arm slings over your shoulder and you tense under it. your hands folding over your chest, your smile tightening a little.
“uh this is steven.” your hand reaches out to point to the man, a tight lipped smile spreading onto his lips.
“steven …” hobie repeats the name slowly, and without looking at him you can tell that he’s eyeing the guy up and down.
the air is stiff, the three of you are silent, and unfortunately, steven takes the hint to dismiss himself, and you instantly turn to hobie, a scowl on your face.
“what the fuck, hobes?” you’re pissed, but the nickname still slips off easily.
hobie shrugs and reaches into his back pocket, a cigarette appearing and he sticks it between his lips. instantly, your fingers pluck it out from his mouth, instead putting it in your own back pocket.
instead of looking upset, hobie looks amused. his hands reach out to grab your waist, and you want to give in, but you try to push his hands away instead.
hobie lets you, and you don’t know if your happy or upset with that.
“what’d you mean?”
you stare at him, deadpan, then gesture to where steven had walked away towards.
“you just cockblocked me!”
a cocky grin, almost a little condescending. “i didn’t ‘cockblock’ you, babes. you weren’t trying to get with that guy.” your eyebrow lifts and you can see realization come onto hobie’s face. “oh … you were?”
“yes! of course i was!”
“but why? you are i are together.”
“sure, hobes, but we’re not ‘together’.”
“yes we are.”
“no, we aren’t.”
“why do you think that?”
you suddenly feel a little insecure, eyes scanning the thinning crowd, ears noticing the way the volume in the pub is lowered. “because you’ve never put a label on it, bee.”
another layer of realization. hobie’s hands coming to your waist again, but this time you let him pull you in.
“i didn’t know we needed a label. but you’re my girl. and i’m your guy.”
your body heats up and you bite down onto your lower lip giddily, peeking up at hobie through your lashes.
"thought you didn't like relationships?"
"labels. i don't like labels."
there's a disruption in the atmosphere. goosebumps raise on your skin, the hair on the back of your neck sticks up, and even if you weren't aware internally, the way the magazine you were previously reading floats above the table would've tipped you off.
the portal opens shortly after, but you knew it was coming. it took hobie a while to tell you that he was spiderman, longer to convince you that he was spiderman, and a while longer to convince you of the existence society, and even though you know, you still get a little shocked whenever a portal opens.
he comes through first, thud of his heavy boots against the floor of his flat. the spoon in your mouth clings against the side of the bowl, your free hand reaches out to the tv remote to pause the episode as you look over at hobie.
"oi, didn't know you were still here." is all he says before he's walking over, pulling his mask off on the way, and leaning down. your head tilts up instantly to meet his lips in a kiss, your body warming with the way his hand pushes into the back of the couch, slender but muscular form caging you in.
you expect him to sit beside you and force you to give a recap of the episode, but he stands back, and then three other people come through the portal.
"oh ... are we expecting guests?" surprise sits in your words, the tone amplified when hobie takes your bowl of cereal out of your hands to finish it off himself.
"right," he speaks through mouthfuls, saying your name as an introduction to the other three. "this is pav, miles, and gwendy. spider people." you nod, waving at each.
"this here, is my girlfriend." three sets of spider-eyes widen with the admission and you can already sense what's coming.
"wow, you're pretty. 's nice to meet you."
"i knew it! i could sense the tension as soon as we got here."
"you have a girlfriend? wait. i thought you didn't like labels."
a small smile on your face as you tuck your hands in the pocket of hobie’s sweatshirt that you wear.
in coordination learned from how close you two are, you speak at the same time.
"he doesn't like consistency."
"don't like consistency, mate."
#hobie brown x reader#hobie brown x you#hobie brown smut#hobie brown fluff#spider punk x reader#spider punk x you#spider punk#celeste writs mcu#hobiesworld!#hobie brown#spider man across the spider verse
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CW: A literal Serial Killer, obv gore description.
Yan! Serial Killer who didn't expect to fall head over heels for you, his supposed next victim. Don't get him wrong, he still wishes he could just yank those eyeballs out of your eye sockets and dip them into his cup of tea but he will refrain from doing so, just yet.
Yan! Serial Killer who loves to hide under your bed and waits for you to either fall asleep, stay up like a bat, or do your business. He's savoring every little noise you make like a fine wine.
Yan! Serial Killer who will actually stay in your home like he lives in it. Won't hesitate to make himself a dinner if you are a heavy sleeper (can always just knock you out with sleeping pills). That said he will also shower in your home, savoring the scent of the products you are using
Yan! Serial Killer who actually helps you in one way or another! Oh goodie, you ran out of soap! Here, let him refill it for you. Wait, you got a stain on your shirt. tsk tsk tsk, this will do justice. Hm? Are we running out of eggs? A visit to the market will solve the problem!
Yan! Serial Killer who loves to collect the eyeballs of anyone who dares to look at you for more than 5 seconds adoringly. He's lucid enough to differentiate which one to be spared and which one is not.
Yan! Serial Killer who almost squeals happily when you acknowledge him indirectly. "Perhaps my fairy godmother has finally come to help me," you quoted.
Yan! Serial Killer who can't help but stroke one out on your sleeping figure, his hand lifting your pajama up to reveal your chest. He will go as far as to rub his cock against your sex then whoops, plunge it into your hole <3
Yan! Serial Killer who contemplates whether he should cum inside you or not. One thing leads to another, and he chooses not to (It's rather troublesome to wash you up so he just came inside your mouth <3
!! Gore Warning !! (You don't have to read it if you are not a fan of it, nb: Cannibalism and Necrophilia + Backstory)
Yan! Serial Killer who somehow adores the idea of gutting you and feeling your innards, tasting how your heart beats against his tongue, or playing with guts as though he is making dough.
Yan! Serial Killer who adores you so much that he won't stop rutting against you, fucking you despite your state, cold and unmoving. Dead. He might even treat himself by burying himself deep in your guts huh?
Yan! Serial Killer who will not let death separate you two. Didn't you know that the reason he fell for you? Ah, you didn't know why he is branded as a serial killer too right?
Erickson is a man of wonder, due to his upbringing as the first heir of an infamous dukedom, he has been spoiled rotten with everything he has always wanted.
Nonetheless, he feels like he has never even once been given what he truly wanted because the supposed first heir is supposed to be his twin brother, Noel, who came out first.
In the mansion where his family resided, there was a servant who caught his twin brother's heart. A girl, or a boy? He pondered. It appeared that you were an orphan that his mother took in out of pity for your state.
It was not love nor fascination. It was the urge to take and destroy what Noel possessed and adored. And this kept going even until the three of you grew up as adults.
He would do anything to tarnish his brother's life, his position, his honor, and his beloved. That would also include you, his unrequited lover whom he accidentally met during his killing spree.
It was boredom that killed him and killing people kept him away from boredom. But you? You surely would not fail to ease his boredom for you were whom his brother longed for.
And what Noel longed for would be what Erickson longed for as well, alas loving you in his stead.
#Erickson the Chosen#CatboX#Yandere x Reader#Yandere Smut#Yandere Headcanons#Yandere Imagines#Yandere scenarios
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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
pairing: draco malfoy x reader
summary: draco malfoy sneaks you into the restricted section of the hogwarts library, but gets a little distracted.
word count: 1.7k
genre: smut
warnings: descriptions of sex
author's note: i usually don't write smut so please don't judge if it's bad, i just couldn't not write this one!
"Draco, how exactly do you plan to pull this off?"
Truthfully, you didn't know what you were thinking either. But when Draco Malfoy tells you he wants you to go with him somewhere in the middle of the night, you don't object. How could you?
"Well, darling, there's a reason I was sorted in Slytherin." Draco whispers as you were both walking towards the Hogwarts Library on the first floor. He held a key in his right hand that you could see from the light reflecting off the candle you held.
"Do I even want to know how you managed to get that?"
All he did was chuckle slightly as he opened the door to the library for you, looking behind you to ensure no one was witnessing what they were about to do. It was absolutely prohibited for any student to be out in the corridors this time of night. It was idiotic to do this, but you come when Draco calls.
He took your free hand in his and walked you over to the back of the school's large library. You held your light up towards the ceiling, looking up until you could read the words that laid upon the wall.
The Restricted Section.
"Wait, why are we going in here?" You didn't mean to, but your voice quivered a bit. Of course, you had seen the entrance to this section numerous times, but never dared to try to enter. Only students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts could obtain permission, but you had heard rumors from those students who had entered that the section contained books from your worst nightmare.
"Don't be scared, (Y/L/N)." Draco said quietly, using the key to carefully unlock the door. "I'll protect you." His lips were dangerously close to your ear as he held the door open for you to enter. You knew that he meant that sincerely, it sent a slight chill up your spine.
Draco Malfoy was perhaps the most overprotective boyfriend you've ever seen, but you didn't mind. In dark times such as this, it was welcomed even. If anyone even looked at you for a second too long for his liking, he had no problem using every spell he knew to defend you.
Despite the fact that both of you were breaking a few school rules, you couldn't help but marvel at the sight before you. The world's most fascinating books must have been contained in this section. You put your candle on a nearby table, your fingertips grazing every spine you could manage.
You finally managed to grab a book that seemed interesting, pulling it out of the bookshelf and opening it. However, your mind wasn't on the book.
Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Draco leaning against the door. The candlelight reflected on him beautifully, the night seemed to become him. His blond hair was a mess due to waking up in the middle of the night, but he still managed to look better than you could ever imagine.
"Misbehaving over there?" A smirk came to his face as he began to walk towards you, forcing you to turn your full attention on him. "I thought I brought you here so you could read, not admire me."
You couldn't help but laugh softly. "That's bold coming from you, Malfoy. Don't think I didn't see the way you were looking at me over there, I thought you were supposed to be guarding the door."
You turned your head back towards the book in front of you, your eyes scanning every word on the page. You knew he must have been pouting at the loss of attention.
"Oh, I couldn't help it, (Y/N)." He sighed out slightly, his fingertips gently grazing your back. "How am I supposed to do that when you're this beautiful?"
He kissed your cheek and you could feel yourself grin, but you still paid him no mind. "Thank you, love. Let me just finish this chapter, then we can head out. I know you must be exhausted."
You really did think that. You knew Draco had a lot on his mind this year, with all of his assignments and the pressure from his family was even more apparent.
"Oh, I'm not exhausted." He whispered into your ear as he gently pressed his crotch area against you. You could feel his growing erection and his lips slowly kiss down your neck. This earned him a soft groan from you.
"But I-" You protested until you felt his soft lips kiss your collarbone, then you were just clay in his hands. "I-um.."
"What was that?" You could practically hear the grin on his face, but you were no match for the brilliant technique he had of getting what he wants. His hands, covered in several silver rings, reached for your book to place it back on its shelf. He turned your body around to face him, his face close to yours.
You could see the passion he had for you in those gray eyes of his and could feel your body burning as those eyes made his way down your body. Somehow, in the trance you were in, he had managed to position your body to sit on the table, with him standing in between your legs.
"Are you insinuating that reading one of those old books is better than something I can give you?" His lips finally crashed into yours to end his question, his hands resting on your thighs.
At this point, how could you focus on anything else but the feelings he was providing to you? Nothing else mattered except for the way his hand now made his way up your skirt, his fingertips pressing softly against your underwear.
"Draco, please-" He knew how to get what he wanted, didn't he?
"You didn't answer the question, (Y/N)." He pulled away from the kiss to look into your eyes, smirking as he enjoyed this game. "You're not getting what you want until you answer." At this point, his fingers had pushed your underwear aside. They were simply waiting for instructions from their master.
You knew what he wanted, he wanted to hear you plead. You spread your legs, lifting up your skirt to reveal your thighs even more. "Please."
That was all you had to say for him to make up his mind. He pressed you back into the bookshelves, two of his fingers finding their way to enter your folds. You couldn't hold back the gasp as you leaned your head back against the bookshelf.
"Be quiet, darling. Remember, we're not supposed to be here." He whispered into your ear as his body was practically pressed against yours. You nodded, although you knew that would be a hard task. Draco knew his way around your body very well, he knew how to pleasure you.
His two fingers began to pump themselves in and out at a slow pace, which you were thankful for. Any faster and you knew you would finish all too soon. You held a hand over your mouth, attempting to silence the sounds that threatened to come out.
"You're already wet for me, aren't you? You pretend you're some sort of good girl, but I know what you are. You love it when Draco Malfoy can give you pleasure no one else could." He teased you slightly with a wide grin, as if he was proud of what he had achieved.
He took his fingers out of you, causing you to whimper slightly. He raised his eyebrow at that, placing one of his fingers over his lips for you to remain quiet. Your eyes went down to his crotch area as he took off his belt, pulling down his pants.
This is a sight you would never get tired of. The image of him pulling your hips closer, waiting for him to make you his once more. The image of him biting his bottom lip as he enters you, staring into your eyes as to show that he loved you.
"Oh.." You let out almost a breath of relief as you finally can feel his hardness slide into you. "Please keep going." To hell with the silence rule. The professors can punish you all they want, it would be worth it just for this moment.
Draco chuckles as he looks at you, fighting back moans of his own. His hips push further until they touch yours, as he slides himself completely inside.
"(Y/N)." That was all your lover had to say to let you know what he was thinking. You knew from all the times you had made love that he loved connecting with you in such an intimate way. Beyond the pleasures of teasing you, he loved nothing more than feeling you let him inside.
As if a switch had happened, he wasted no time. He thrusted himself in and out at a pace he knew you craved. It was at a slower pace, but rough and needy at the same time. His lips went to your ear, whispering into it.
"That's my girl, you take it so well. God, I love how you feel."
You could never get enough of his words for desire specifically for you. You were always grateful you landed a boyfriend who wasn't afraid to tell you how he felt. Your head was buried into his neck, but it still wasn't enough to silence the sounds his hardness was causing you to feel. The length and girth seemed to fit you perfectly, as if it belonged inside of you.
"Draco, if you-" You began to moan out, but he shook his head to silence you.
"Say it again." He had a wide grin on his face once again, continuing his thrusts. You felt one of his hands make its way between your thighs, his thumb slowly caressing your clit.
"Draco?" You questioned, before you began to feel what he was doing. This man was going to drive you crazy.
You leaned your head back, the feeling of his hardness and thumb was too much to bear. Finally, you felt your legs shake as you kept repeating his name, closing your eyes as your orgasm arrived. It wasn't long before you felt him finish as well, moaning your name into your neck. He stepped closer to rest in your arms as you both breathed slowly. His skin seemed to glow in the dark with sweat, only reflected by the candle that still burned beside you. Your fingers ran through his hair as you kissed his forehead.
"I love you." You heard him whisper as he grinned. "You can get back to your little books now, but no promises this won't happen again."
#draco#draco malfoy#draco malfoy x reader#draco x reader#draco malfoy x you#draco x you#draco malfoy x y/n#draco x y/n#draco malfoy fanfiction#draco fanfiction#draco malfoy fanfic#draco fanfic#draco malfoy fic#draco fic#draco malfoy imagine#draco imagine#draco lucius malfoy#draco smut#draco malfoy smut
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harvey (sdv) - nsfw alphabet <3
-> there is not nearly enough harvey content on tumblr for my liking. SO two harvey posts in a row, yes i do believe. and i do love reading an sfw/nsfw alphabet so of course i have to provide for our favorite nerdy doctor <3 i also want you to know that as i write this, i imagine harvey as a taller, bigger man. so like he's got some chub on him and he's got broad shoulders. idk idk it's my headcanon.
-> this is nsfw and dirty! like i really tried to get over my reservations about using descriptive language. with that being said, NSFW 18+ MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
harvey is the sweetest, most gentlemanly partner after sex. he makes sure that you get cleaned up, that you protect yourself against any UTIs or other gross things, makes you some coffee or tea, and cuddles with you endlessly. harvey would need some extra reassurance that what he did was good, that you enjoyed it, or that you didn't get hurt. he'd get anxious and worry about it for the rest of the night if you didn't offer him some kind of honest discussion.
b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
i think he appreciates his arms and hands! he knows that he has some strength and likes when you can grip on to his biceps in the heat of the moment. knows how to work his hands i mean, come on. he can do minor surgical interventions. if you hold onto his arm while you're walking in town, he'd get all blushy.
as for you, he truthfully loves every part of you. if you ever asked him "what part of me is your favorite?" he would actually stress over it and couldn't answer. however, if you really really wanted him to say, he would choose your eyes. there's nothing better to him than looking at them when he's giving you pleasure. sends him reeling, actually.
c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
i don't think harvey is particularly keen on making a mess, especially of the bed or another surface. he'd try to keep his cum inside of you, or at least contained to an easily wipeable surface (like your face). on the down low though, i truthfully think he'd surprisingly enjoy cumming on your face, mainly around your lips. messy oral? he's done for.
d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
meeting dr. harvey in his office for a confidential check-up? hmm. definitely not when you first start dating, but give him some time and you may just find yourself on his desk (never in the actual, sterile field) receiving a little extra attention wink wink nudge nudge
e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
he has plenty of knowledge about anatomy, trust me. he never struggles with finding your best spots. however, he struggles with foreplay and building intimacy and dirty talk, etc. he's a nerd! what can i say? tell him what you like, guide him, and help him and he'd be confident in no time. he's a quick learner.
f = favorite position (this goes without saying)
so, i think there are two sides to harvey. he is either incredible slow, passionate, and earnest. this lends itself to something simple like missionary where he can stare into your eyes, kiss you, tell you sweet things, etc. his other side comes out later, when he's gotten more comfortable with you and with himself, and he can get a little rougher or faster or intense. he likes to be able to grip on to you so something like doggy, maybe riding?
g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
harvey can't help but be clumsy sometimes. he learns to be able to giggle at himself when his hand misses the bed and he falls. he also can't help but giggle when hair gets caught in your mouth or some other silly thing. however, he likes to keep things intimate and prefers to have a serious moment with you in bed.
h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
i don't think he fully shaves, he just doesn't strike me as that kinda guy with his mustache. but i do think he trims it, kinda manscapes it a little bit to tame everything down but he likes to have a little hair down there.
i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
loves making sex romantic. he doesn't do it often, but on special days like your anniversary or birthday, he will harvest some flowers from the farm and throw the petals around the room, open up some freshly made wine, and showers you in affection. as for every day sex, he still likes to make it special for you and never backs down on his pure, teeth-hurting sweetness.
j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)
i think that he is the kinda guy that starts feeling guilty for masturbating after he gets into a relationship. prefers to just wait for you. however, before your relationship, he would masturbate every once in a while when he was stressed or horny. if he ever watched porn, which i feel like would be very rare for him, he wouldn't watch highly produced, fake porn. it would have to be something amateur. (harvey has a secret twitter account)
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
okay so...i think harvey starts out vanilla. when you're getting to know him and for the first few times you have sex, he keeps it simple. mainly out of nervousness. however, i think he's kinkier than we might assume. i think he really enjoys being praised and praising you. i think, too, he likes feeling big and strong in that he gives in to his possessiveness sometimes, and he likes being able to manhandle you a little bit. also, i propose this everyone....bondage? nothing super strong! just with his tie or belt. and your hands. to the headboard.
l = location (favorite places to do the do)
your bedroom, mostly! he has a reputation that he needs to uphold so anything in public is nerve wracking. but with some convincing, like i said, his fancy office is not totally off limits.
m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
seeing you do anything! especially if you're really determined to get something done and you're working hard at it! like, you've been working so damn hard on renovating and cleaning the farm and you come back proud of everything you've done, he will look at you with a glow in his face. kisses on the neck, too!
n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
i don't think he'd ever hurt you. it's just not something he could ever see himself doing. he doesn't mind seeing like fingertip marks on you the day after but anything like choking, spanking, etc is out of the question. he also would find rudeness a turn off in a person. like he would hate to see anyone be rude to another person and it would take away from someone's attractiveness immediately! (that's not to say that he doesn't enjoy some town gossip here and there)
o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
my first headcanon here is that harvey LOVES giving oral and on the days when he hasn't cleanly shaved his face, his stubble leaves marks around your thighs. okay, now that that's out of the way: harvey is such a pleaser and he'd do anything to make sure you feel good. he likes when you guide his head, mouth, or hands and he likes being told if you want more, or faster, or less. as for him receiving, i think he enjoys it but he gets so in his head that he can't really cum from it. it takes some extra praise and reassurance to get him to fully open up.
p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
like every other answer here, it depends on his mood! he can get really fast when he's feeling extra needy or kinky. however, when he's trying to be romantic, he will take his sweet time and go nice and slow with his thrusts, movements, touches. however, i think he could also use slowness to his advantage and tease you.
q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
prefers to take his time but sometimes he likes to catch you before you wake up and start working on the farm and before he has to go to work. he enjoys these more than he will admit to himself though and he thinks it can be fun!!
r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
he's down to try new things, don't get me wrong! if you wanna try something new, he'll let you to an extent but he won't do anything that comes with a dangerous outcome or health risk! like, sure, he might be down to try some new rope positions but he won't dare put chocolate sauce around his genitals. do you know the bacteria risks that can come with that??
s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
i don't think he has very high stamina. it's not that he gets really sleepy after, but he can't go for multiple rounds. maybe two if it's been a long time since he's seen you. he can last a while though, i think. he won't cum the minute he engages in anything and with his anxiety, it may even take him a while to get to that point.
t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
he doesn't mind bringing out a vibrator because he knows how good it could make you feel. he doesn't like them on himself though! he doesn't mind taking a trip out to zuzu and hitting up a sex shop to buy some new bondage-y toys. they will be thoroughly cleaned though. why would nipple clamps be any less clean than forceps?
u = unfair (how much they like to tease)
he doesn't do it with malice in his heart, trust me. he just likes seeing you on edge, waiting for him of all people, begging for more pleasure. he experiments to see how long you can go for, or how far he can drag out oral. he definitely enjoys it more than he'd let on. oh, and, i leave you with this, imagine harvey offering fake pity and cooing at you:
"my poor flower...you must want it so bad!"
v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
keeps quiet, mostly. some interjections of grunts and groans, especially when he cums. he uses his voice more for sweet talk! he loves hearing your noises, though, and it gives him more encouragement than anything.
w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
the first time you called him dr. harvey in a joking, yet somewhat flirtatious manner, he blushed and got incredibly flustered. then, you did it again, and it had the same effect. and then...oh lord. your hands were roaming his body and you, just testing the waters, called him dr. harvey and he could have finished right there.
x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
he's big guys, i'm sorry. nerdy white men are always packing. i headcanon him as a big boy and it's only fitting that he's proportionate. more thickness than length. he was a little ashamed the first time you had sex but he realized just how good it feels and it makes him proud. big dick energy if you will.
y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
i think he has a fluctuating sex drive. during flu and cold season, he is so stressed and likes to come back and make dinner, cuddle, and go to bed. however, during the summer, when everyone is healthy and only needs some aloe vera gel for sunburns, he could go day after day with you. it just all depends on his mood and the time of the year.
z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
he enjoys cuddling and talking after sex but give him an hour and the man is CONKED. he's the older bachelor so of course he's a sleepy man. cuddle up to his chest, open up the window to let fresh air or the sounds of rain float in, and he'll be like a baby.
#fanfic#fluff#harvey x reader#harvey stardew valley#harvey one shot#harvey#milh (man i love harvey)#alphabet#headcanon#harvey headcanon#stardew valley x reader#stardew valley#stardew valley headcanon
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'Cherry Bomb' | Michael Gavey x Reader (Part 1)
a/n: this will have two parts, most likely! english is not my first language and i have no idea how oxford university works lol i just googled some things, also i suck at maths so any explanation here is just me googling shit. no beta reader. hope you enjoy!
Summary: You wake up with a pounding headache, the worst hangover you ever had. You don't even remember how you managed to get to your dorm, until you see a small note on your bedside table, signed by... Michael Gavey.
Words: 4490
Warnings: +18 (minors do not interact!), female reader, no use of y/n, not specific physical description, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, fingering, loss of virginity, masturbation (and more to come in the second part)
You wake up on a Saturday morning with a pounding headache, your mascara all smudged under your eyes. The sunlight coming from the blinds makes you squint your eyes. You bring a hand to your forehead, sighing. This was the worst hangover you had in a while.
The sound of the door opening and a sudden gasp make you groan and close your eyes shut.
“Oh, here you are!” a particularly high-pitched voice says, making your headache even worse.
“Fuck, Leigh” your voice comes out as croaky and hoarse. “Lower your voice” you ask as she mutters a ‘sorry’ and closes the door carefully. You manage to sit, your back resting against the headboard as Leigh approaches you.
“Next time, be sure to drink water as well. Too many tequilas and shots do this to you” it’s like she’s scolding you, which is fair because she’s two years older than you, she’s like your sister sometimes.
You rub your eyes, smearing more mascara and making you look like a raccoon. On the corner of your eye you notice a glass full of water and some aspirins. You frown.
“How did you get that so fast?” It’s Leigh’s turn to look at you completely puzzled. You point to the glass next to you.
“Uhm, it wasn’t me” she chuckles as you take some aspirins in your hand and drown them with water. Your brows lift in surprise and confusion, your eyes glancing towards a small note next to your lamp. You grab it and read the message in a rushed handwriting.
“What the fuck was Michael Gavey doing in my dorm?” you nearly scream with wide eyes as Leigh takes the note from your hands to read it. She throws her head back and cackles.
“Michael Gavey brought you here last night. You don’t remember?” she looks at your dumbfounded expression trying not to laugh again. “Jeez, you were so drunk you don’t even remember what happened…” she mutters and sits cross-legged in front of you. “Last night at the pub, we were chatting with Felix and his group and you wanted to go to the loo, so you left but on your way you bumped into Bradley and Sam” she wiggles her brows and you scoff.
You dated Bradley during half the second term, then you dated his friend Sam for a brief period of two weeks. You found them too boring, so you rejected any other advance on their part ever since.
“Anyways, I couldn’t see much but I think something nasty happened, because on the other side of the pub was Michael fucking Gavey looking at you. Babe, he was fuming” her lips curve into a devilish smile. “He strode towards you and grabbed your arm, telling them to fuck off. Which they surprisingly did, which is odd because, well… you know… he’s a scrawny awkward nerd and Bradley and Sam are pretty much tall like beasts” she shakes her head while you’re still confused, trying so hard to remember what happened.
“Why the hell would he even approach me? He hates me” your brows lift and she places a manicured hand on your knee.
“Hmm, maybe they were annoying you. It seems Michael’s your knight in shining armour. I think it was hot, wet my panties a little bit not gonna lie” she sighs and fans her face with her hand, pretending to melt.
Now it is your turn to cackle. “You’ve always said you pictured him like one of those guys who compulsively jerks off to hentai every night in the dark of his room.” You look at her with a knowing look, pouting your lips.
Leigh shrugs. “Maybe I changed my mind. Maybe I like nerds like Michael Gavey now. He looked really good with that shirt” she narrows her eyes and twirls her hair, making you laugh again. She grins and looks at you. “You should talk to him. Ask him what happened, and then you might want to thank him…” she wiggles her eyebrows and you roll your eyes, she slaps your shoulder in response. “You know you want to! I mean, I’ve seen the way you look at him sometimes, and a guy like him will never resist a bomb like you. Who knows, maybe he’s jerking off to the thought of you…”
“Leigh!” you slap her leg and she jumps. You shake your head. “Babe, she hates me. I know it. I’m pretty sure he’s part of that group of guys that slut-shames me in the hallways” Leigh presses her lips, knowing you might be right. Might.
Still, you want to know what really happened last night, so you sigh and get out of bed, Leigh following your movements in the dimly lit dorm. “I’ll take a shower and think about how to talk to him, ask him what happened” your friend gets on her stomach on your bed, her feet up and her chin resting on her palm as you grab your towel, feeling the headache go away, but your empty stomach grumbled.
“Mind if I take a nap here? Kev fucked my brains out last night and I don’t feel like going to my dorm” she sounded quite tired, and you hum in response. She groans as she gets into the covers and you enter the small bathroom, closing the door slowly and undressing to get into the warm shower, letting the water fall all over your body. You close your eyes enjoying the feeling, and you start wondering how to talk to Michael.
You never saw him anywhere else rather than in the great hall of college, as he spent most of the time in the library. Besides, you know deep in your gut he hates you. Every time you walk into the library, he leaves, avoiding looking at you.
One time, you tried to talk to him. It was the beginning of the academic year, you were dating a history student named David, and you saw Michael all alone during lunch, too focused on his books and his crunchies. Feeling bad for him, you grabbed your purse and walked towards him, a smile across your face.
“Hi there” you introduce yourself, extending your hand. He looks up from his book, looking at you with a frown, sneering. He looks at your hand and then back at you. Awkwardly, you move that hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, pressing your lips. “What’s your name?”
“Michael Gavey” he says sharply, clearly annoyed. You stand there, feeling heat creeping on your cheeks as he turns his attention to his book. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out so you leave, returning to your friends.
That was the first and last time you tried to talk to him, but he refused. You didn’t know why, but you assumed it was because of your reputation there. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying your sexuality, and it’s definitely not your fault that most of the guys are horny douchebags who aren’t capable of being in a serious relationship. Plus, they’re too shallow for you, and you get bored easily. You don’t want them to get too attached.
But Michael’s different. He avoids interacting with people when he can, he doesn’t do parties -maybe you saw him once or twice at Felix’s-, he’s very vocal about what he thinks about popular people: he hates them. Vapid cunts, you heard him mutter once. And that’s why you feel attracted to him.
He’s nothing like Bradley, Sam or David. Or Luke. Or Peter. Or even Felix.
You finish showering and drying off your hair, Leigh sleeping soundly on your bed. You are careful not to make any loud noise as you try to dress. You put on a lace tank top and a pair of jeans, your favourite flats and the note he left on your bedside table and head out to the library, hoping to find him.
Bingo. You see Michael sitting on the other side of the library, fully immersed in his studies. Your flats make the slightest of noises against the floor, you feel your heartbeat get faster as you approach him. You pull the chair in front of him and take a seat, leaning over as you smile and say hi. Michael looks up and nearly chokes at the sight of your tits nearly spilling from your top.
“H-hi” he simply responds in a low voice. He clears his throat and frowns. “Why are you here?”
Ouch. Rude. “I was looking for you.”
“You were?” Silly old me?
“Yes, dummy. I woke up with the worst hangover of my life, and I found this on my bedside table.” You hand him the small note he left. Drink these with water. Hope you feel better. Michael Gavey. He presses his lips and nods, acknowledging the note he wrote.
“You were pretty hammered” he chuckles and you smile, showing your perfect teeth.
“I was. I can’t remember a thing, Michael. Would you help me to fill in the blanks?” you ask sweetly and bat your lashes at him, making him squirm. Michael Gavey squirms.
“Sure, uhm…” he puts the book aside, scratches the back of his neck and clears his throat once again. “You were heading towards the toilet at the pub and I heard you laugh when you bumped into those assholes” he sneers, remembering the events from last night. “The blonde one landed a hand on your ass and you tried to pull him away. You were clearly uncomfortable so just told them to fuck off” he shrugs.
Your heart flutters, he sounds so honest and worried about you. You extend your hand to place it on top of his, and he meets your eyes. “Thank you.”
He nods, looking at your hands. He slithers them away, making you frown. “No worries. Next time though, try not to throw up on my sneakers” your eyes widen in surprise and embarrassment.
“Oh fuck, did I do that?” He nods trying to hide a smirk. You cover your face with your hands, mortified. “Shit, I’m so sorry!” You move your hands away from your flushed face when you hear him chuckle.
“You had too many drinks, you could barely stand on your feet” he reassures you, his sudden kindness taking you by surprise. “I left you in your dorm and just when I was about to leave, you said you felt like throwing up, but you didn’t make it to the toilet and threw up on my sneakers. I washed the stain off the floor and helped you get off your shoes to lie down. I see you took the aspirins I left there.”
“I did, thank you again.” You don’t know how to thank him properly, so you start thinking. You take a moment to study his features. The glasses he wears frame his face and hide his blue eyes. His aquiline nose —oh God, his aquiline nose—, the pronounced cupid bow of his lips, his sharp jaw. You feel the need to run your fingers through his tousled blonde hair. You press your legs together. “How can I thank you?”
“No, it’s ok. No worries” he makes a gesture with his hands and sighs. “Uhm, I really need to study, so…” he trails off, subtly telling you to leave. You blink and nod, standing up.
“Sure, ok, I’ll leave you to it…” you accommodate the chair back and wave at him. “See you around?” He just nods and opens his book again. As you leave, a great idea crosses your mind, but before you open your mouth a pack of students enter the library. You curse internally and leave.
9:15 AM.
You fix your hair in the mirror, brushing it before going to the calculus lecture. You’re not studying anything related to maths actually, you’re a psychology student and according to the university program you can take a course to complement your studies, so you chose that one.
As you walk down the corridors, you see Michael carrying his notebook and entering the classroom. Your lips curve into a smile and speed up the pace to catch up.
“Michael!” You call him as you finally reach him. You swear you hear him mutter something under his breath, and you follow him as more students fill the room. He smiles at you with pressed lips, greeting you back.
“I didn’t know you were taking calculus” he sounds genuinely surprised. You decide to take a seat next to him, placing your bag on the floor as he opens his notebook and clicks his pen, everything ready to take notes.
“Yeah, I have to take an optional course to complement my studies” you lean down, giving him a clear view of your cleavage as you reach for your notebook and pencil case. You hear him gulp.
“How… dedicated” he replies, to which you smile, taking the end of your pencil in between your teeth.
Michael looks away, his eyes focusing on the board as the professor greets everyone and starts writing.
Half an hour later the lecture comes to an end. You sigh in relief, your brain has melted from all the numbers and formulas the professor explained. Honestly, you paid more attention to Michael’s large hands and long fingers gripping his pen as he took notes, thinking about how they would feel on your body.
You watch as he stands up quickly, nodding at you as a way to say goodbye. “See ya”
“Michael, wait!” You quickly put your notebook into your bag and rush after him. “Shall we study together? We can do the assignment due by next week together” you offer him your signature smile, tilting your head and thinking he wouldn’t say no. Most guys melted when you smiled at them like that.
However, your confidence vanishes when he grimaces and scratches his neck. “Actually, I… I don’t study in groups. Doesn’t work for me”.
Why are you surprised, it is obvious. You always see him alone in the libraries. You curse yourself internally. “Oh, well…”
“I’m sure you will do great though, you seem like a clever girl” the praise coming from his lips make you silently gasp.
“Yeah, you’re right…” Just as he’s about to leave, an idea pops in your head. “Actually, Michael… I’m struggling with this subject.”
Lies. You aren’t a genius like he is, but you can manage. You don’t like maths but you don’t suck at it either, you do good. Enough to pass the subject.
“I was wondering if you could help me” you do your best to sound helpless, knitting your brows and all. “Everyone says you’re a fucking genius, please, Mike?” He swallows hard at the way you practically beg him for help, placing a hand on his elbow.
He doubts only for a few seconds before agreeing. “Ok. I will help you” he yelps as you wrap your arms around him, your tits flash against his chest making him dizzy.
“Oh, thank you Michael!” you pull back, teeth biting down on your lower lip as you smile. “Can we start today? I would tell you to come to my dorm, but my friend Leigh is currently staying there because they found a rat clogging her toilet.” Another big lie.
Michael just nods, he doesn’t really have too many options. “Fine. Uhm, my dorm is on the second floor, 219. I’ll be there at 4pm, bring your notes and a calculator.”
You playfully salute him, like a good soldier. “Yes, Sir” he chuckles softly and shakes his head, turning on his heels to leave.
You can barely contain your joy as you walk towards your dorm, almost singing.
3:40 PM.
You try on different outfits, grunting when you look at yourself in the mirror for the fifth time. You don’t like any fit, and you continue rummaging through the pile of clothes on your bed. You lift your brow as a red fabric catches your attention. It’s the mini skirt Leigh gave you a few weeks ago. You quickly put it on and look at yourself in the mirror once again, happy with the result. Your white baby tee with ‘cherry bomb’ in red letters written on it makes the perfect match.
You grab your notebook and head towards his dorm.
“Coming” you hear Michael’s voice behind the door. He will surely be coming today. He opens the door, breath hitching at the sight of you in that top, your nipples peeking through the fabric. Suddenly he feels his pants are too tight. “Please, come in” he gives you enough space to enter his dorm, which you do. As you walk past him the smell of your perfume fills his nostrils. Fuck.
You smile at him and as he closes the door behind you, you look around the room. It was just what you expected. Everything was perfectly neat, books organised in two bookshelves, more textbooks and notes scattered over the white desk.
“Take a seat over there” he points at the bed, and you gladly do it. “Do you want something to drink? Eat? I have some crunchies.”
“No, thanks, I’m fine.” You flash him a sweet smile as you open your bag, looking for your notes and your pen.
Michael sits next to you, keeping a safe distance of course, but close enough you can hear his hard breathing. “Ok, we can start with the basics, and then I’ll help you with the exercises, sounds good?” When you nod, he continues. “Cool. So, think of limits as a way to understand what happens to a function as it gets closer and closer to a certain point without actually reaching it.”
“That sounds paradoxical” you cut him off, and he suppresses a smile.
“It does seem counterintuitive, but it's about observing the behaviour of a function as it gets infinitely close to a specific value.” He continues explaining, and you pay attention to every word that comes out from those beautiful lips.
Michael’s brows lift in surprise as you finish another task quickly, and he’s even more surprised when he checks it and there are no mistakes. He didn’t find any mistakes in the previous 5 exercises he provided for you either. You just look up at him, waiting for his correction.
He looks back at you. “You did perfectly well. Again.” You squeak and he takes off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t get it. Most students get the first ten exercises horribly wrong, but you solved all of them perfectly. H-how?”
You lean back on your arms, legs crossed. You tilt your head. “Maybe I’m just a quick study, learning from the best” you start moving your feet up his leg, slowly and carefully. He shakes his head as he puts on his glasses again, sighing.
“No. You’re just wasting my time.”
“What?” It’s actually the truth. You are wasting his time, you weren’t having any issues with the subject, you just wanted an excuse. “Ok, yes, I admit it” you lift your hands in defeat, and he curses.
“Why the fuck would you ask for my help if you don’t need it? Fuck, I have many important things to do and you’re here bothering me, leave please.���
You get on your feet quickly as he’s about to turn the doorknob, and you stop him. “No, Michael, please hear me out.” He glares at you, nostrils flaring as you take his wrist and guide him towards his bed, making him sit on the edge. He looks confused, you sit next to him, your knees touching.
“Look, I just wanted to thank you for what you did the other day. For being my knight in shining armour.” He licks his lips and opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off by placing your index finger there. “No, listen. I know it’s not a big deal for you, but it is for me. Michael, I want you.”
Michael’s eyes widen at your confession. “W-what?”
There’s no way you wanted him. You, out of all the people on the campus. Slowly, you lean in, wetting your lips with your tongue to press them against his mouth. You give him a soft peck before truly kissing him, your hands finding their way towards his tense shoulders. He doesn’t respond yet, but when you bite gently on his lower lip he whimpers, he fucking whimpers, and moves his lips against yours, trying to follow your rhythm. Your lips taste like cherries, and he loves it.
Kissing him feels good. You tilt your head to the side to deepen the kiss, feeling how he squirmed under your touch and kisses. You wonder how he would react when you have his cock in your mouth.
You slither your tongue inside his mouth, exploring it as he gets more excited, his hands finally touching you, placed on either side of your waist.
You pull back to catch your breath and he chases your lips. You giggle. “Easy there, lover boy. We have plenty of time.”
“Fuck, I- I… I’ve never done this” you frown, and he sighs. “I’ve never kissed anyone. Ever. That felt really good” he chuckles, and you smile.
“You liked it?” He just nods, and you start placing open mouthed kisses across his jaw, down his neck until you reach his ear and whisper. “Wait until I put my mouth on your cock.”
Michael gulps. “W-what?”
“You think I came here just because I wanted to kiss you? No, Michael” his eyes follow your movements, how you rise from his bed to kneel in front of him, hands undoing his jeans, looking for any sign of discomfort. When you find none, you continue, pulling down his jeans and boxers down to his knees, freeing his cock. “I came here because I really, really want this” you purr and lower your gaze to his weeping length, your cunt clenching around nothing already.
Michael’s big. At least, bigger than the ones you had. Curved upward with a protruding vein on the side. You bite your lip as you start stroking him, Michael closes his eyes shut and whimpers. You never heard someone whimper so beautifully. You study every reaction, every microexpression as you continue stroking him at a tantalising pace, as if you are torturing him.
“P-please…” he begs through bated breath, moving his hips as he tries to get some friction, anything.
“You look so beautiful begging, Michael. You’re making me so wet, baby” he cries out your name again, and you smirk. “Michael, open your eyes” you demand, and he does so, breath catching in his throat as he finds you there on your knees, looking at him like you were his predator. It was so fucking sexy.
“I want you to watch as I suck your cock. And you better last more than five minutes. I want you to enjoy it” he nods and swallows hard as you lick your lips before taking him into your mouth.
“Oh fuck” he curses, gripping the sheets beneath him until his knuckles are white. You lick the vein, going from the base upwards, and you hear him sigh. You lick him like you lick a lollipop, and then you take him into your mouth again, hollowing your cheeks as your right hand works its way around the base. He’s so big he doesn’t fit completely into your mouth.
You hum around his cock, your eyes closing as you bob your head up and down his shaft, making Michael squirm. He doesn’t know what to do, he just keeps looking at you, unable to tear his gaze from you.
The soft moans that escape his lips, the way he whimpers your name and bucks his hips ever so slightly, careful not to hurt you but eager to get more are enough to make you wet. Hell, you are sure your panties are soaked by now, leaking through the fabric.
His eyes widen as he catches the movement of your left hand that was on his inner thigh going in between your legs, under the skirt. Were you touching yourself?
You bob your head faster and moan around his cock as you tease your wet folds with your fingers. You push two fingers inside your pussy, the room filling with the most obscene sounds you ever heard.
“Are you… are you touching y-yourself?” asks Michael in a strangled moan, watching you intently. You release his cock from your mouth with a wet pop, your saliva coating it.
“Of course I am, Michael. I’m fucking wet. Here” you take off your fingers from your pussy to grab his hand, and guide it towards your entrance.
Michael almost passes out. You are, in fact, dripping wet on his fingers. You let him touch you for a moment, grinding your hips against his hand, the heel of his palm pressing against your clit so deliciously. “S-shit, Michael” you bite your lip and he grins, happy to earn that reaction from you. You feel him twitch in your hand, the tell tale sign that he was very close to cumming. You remove your hands from your cunt and he frowns.
“Did-did I hurt you?”
“No, baby. But tonight’s about you, ok? I can teach you how to eat my pussy later, yeah? Right now, I want you to cum in my mouth. Whenever you’re ready” you wink at him and he chokes on a sob as you take him into your mouth again, slowly until you feel him in the back of your throat. Some tears well up in your eyes, you moan around his cock and that pushes him.
He bucks his hips and shoots his load deep down your throat, you look at him through your lashes and see how hard he grips the sheets, his chest heaving as he moans your name. He stays still for a while, panting as you swallow his salty cum, wiping the corner of your mouth with your hand.
“Holy fuck” he mutters, still trying to catch his breath. You get on your feet and plant a kiss on his lips, letting him taste himself on your tongue. “Now… shall I… well, uhm” he’s unsure about what to ask.
“Eat my pussy?” you finish for him and he nods eagerly, you giggle. “Another day, baby.”
“But you… you were touching yourself and didn’t get to cum, right? I have to return the favour—”
“No, Michael. Don’t worry” you reassure him with a kind smile, stroking his cheek. You lean in to kiss him again, and then, you whisper in his ear: “I’ll just finger myself until I cum in my bedroom to the thought of you.”
You smirk as he looks at you with his jaw dropped. You blow him a kiss, open the door and leave.
let me know what you think! and if you'd like to be tagged as well 🫶🏻
#michael gavey#michael gavey x reader#michael gavey smut#michael gavey x you#michael gavey fic#saltburn fanfiction#saltburn#saltburn movie#ewanverse#ewan mitchell#ewan mitchell smut#ewan mitchell fic#mydemimondewrites
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What do AO3's Archive Warnings mean?
Archive Warnings can be confusing to new users, both readers and writers alike, so let's take a moment and break them down. We'll start at the top of the list - which is ordered alphabetically.
Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings - when AO3 was being designed (by fans, for fans) there was a debate about requiring warnings. At the time, they were not a standard expectation, so some people didn't want warnings to be mandatory on every individual fic on the Archive. Other people did.
This warning - stating that the author was making a choice not to provide a warning - was a compromise. A creator could choose not to apply a warning to their fic and readers would then know to be wary because it would be possible that any of the warnings might be needed, or multiple of them, or none of them.
This warning (which I'll abbreviate to CCNTW from here on out) is also a good catch-all for other things that a creator might want to warn for that don't have a specific Archive Warning. Authors can also provide warnings of different kinds in the Additional Tags on a work, so it's a good idea to read those carefully as well.
You can read up on more of the history of this warning on Fanlore.
Graphic Depictions of Violence - This applies to stories where the descriptions of violence are very detailed and probably gory. The violent scenes will likely be brutal and easily imagined. This warning is generally accompanied by a rating of either M or E - meaning that the content in the work is aimed at adults only.
Some authors find it difficult to decide whether the violence in their fic is graphic enough to warrant using this warning, so they use CCNTW instead. For some fandoms, the source material is already full of graphic violence and so they might also use an Additional Tag to give more information such as, "canon typical violence"
Major Character Death - This can be interpreted in different ways. It might mean:
a character dies, and that character is a major character in canon (even if they might be a minor character in the fic).
a character dies, and that character is a major character in the fic (even if they might be a minor character in canon).
the character death in the story is a major component of the story or a particularly intense part of the story.
It is possible that the character who dies does not stay dead in the fic, in which case the author may decide to use an Additional Tag like "temporary character death" to provide more information.
It is also possible that an author will decide to use CCNTW instead because they want to avoid giving spoilers for the story.
No Archive Warnings Apply - This means that none of the other warnings in this list apply to this fic. The fic may still be given a rating that indicates it is for an adult audience.
Rape / Non-Con - This refers to different scenarios in which a character does not consent to sexual activity.
Non-Con is short for non-consent, which is a term from role-playing communities in which not giving consent is part of the sexual game. Non-con can also refer to the fact that in a fictional story, we might see a character verbally state that they don't want to have sex and then read their inner monologue in which they express that they do.
The various interactions and interpretations involved in consent can get very complex and nuanced, and some creators might use CCNTW because they aren't sure if what they're writing rises to the level of this warning.
Underage - This warning refers to stories that describe sexual activity (more than just kissing) involving characters who are under 18 years old. This one is also up for interpretation when it comes to creatures, monsters, mythological beings, aliens that live for thousands of years, etc.
---
All of the above warnings will be used a little differently by different creators and by different fandoms, and as you read more on the site you will likely notice these differences.
However, if you see a work on the Archive that should have one of these warnings but doesn't, you can report that work to the Policy Questions & Abuse team by scrolling to the bottom of the page and clicking the link to their reporting form.
To help the volunteers who manage these reports, you can give them some additional information. If it's a multi-chaptered work, let them know which chapter to look in or give them a keyword or phrase they can search for to find the relevant scene(s). If the volunteer decides a warning is required, they'll contact the creator and ask them to add it. If they decide that it doesn't, they'll let you know.
If the work has Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings on it, that includes all other warnings and that fic shouldn't be reported for missing one.
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Things the Twst Boys Find Interesting From Your World.
Inspired by this post, here are things I think the twst boys would find fascinating from your world.
masterlist
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Ace:
He's kinda basic and is interested in your holidays. I don't think he's able to wrap his head around religious holidays, which makes sense because most religions sound strange when you explain it to someone that knows nothing about what you're talking about. I think he really likes the idea of Christmas, he wants free gifts.
Deuce:
This is kinda hard to explain, but I think Deuce is interested in all the different types of subjects your world teaches. Because when you think about it, so much of this world revolves around magic. Even though there are people who don't use it, most people have a basic grasp of it. So I think he'd really want to know how schools function without magic.
Cater:
Social media and influencers, one hundred percent. Like he'd be so fascinated by the idea of YouTube and Instagram and TikTok, but he's also really into the drama of it all. Explain influencer beef, no matter how niche it is or how well he'd be able to understand it, he's hooked for days. Imagine him finding out that you had a sizable following on one of those apps, oh lord.
Trey:
This applies to lots of characters, but food. He's really interested in all the different types of pastries, especially ones that are your favorite. He probably tries to make them to the best of his abilities purely based on your descriptions.
Riddle:
He's really interested in your world's history. He thinks it fascinating how diverse your history is, and will constantly ask you questions regarding your culture and history. He never gets bored of it either because there is just so much to tell. Like no matter how basic you think your history is, it's so cool to Riddle.
Jack:
I'm gonna say something that might be controversial, but Jack gives off the vibes of someone who says he doesn't like reality T.V. but actually really does. I don't care, he'll eat up all the reality T.V. from your world and somehow be able to keep track of all the drama.
Ruggie:
Ruggie is fascinated by slang that you use, as strange as that sounds. A lot of it overlaps, but there is eventually some phrase or word you say that they just don't get and it cracks him up. I think he'd try to emulate some of your phrases, to varying success.
Leona:
I feel like Leona is just fascinated with humans in general. Like, he's met humans before, but the idea of an entire world with only humans surprises him, and he isn't able to comprehend how your society was able to function. He just can't wrap his head around it, no matter how much you explain your world to him.
Floyd:
Surprisingly, fashion. I read on his wiki that he got really interested in fashion after coming on land. I think he'd really want to know about how people in your world dress, even if it is similar to how people In Twisted Wonderland dress. I think he's really fascinated about how different cultures dress, and how clothing has changed over time.
Jade:
Plants, all types of plants. Like they are definitely more boring than the ones in Twisted Wonderland, but he doesn't care. He's such a nerd for plants, especially mushrooms. There was this video I watched a while ago of a woman talking about all the different ways to cook different types of mushrooms, and I think if he watched that video he'd fall in love.
Azul:
Kinda specific but card games. It's canon that he likes strategy games, so I think he'd really be interested in all the different types of games, but would probably prefer physical card games rather than online ones. I think he'd secretly really like how cute Pokemon are.
Jamil:
He's also interested in your food. Unlike Trey, he's more interested in the complex dishes of your world rather than just pastries. I think he'd genuinely want to try to make every dish he could with you and try them all, especially ones that pertain to your culture.
Kalim:
He's really interested in your music, it's so diverse. He'd definitely be the type of person to say he's interested in all types of music and mean it because he genuinely is. Like show him Chappell Roan and then Laufey, and then Baby Metel, it doesn't matter, he loves it all.
Epel:
I know this is kinda basic but sports, he loves sports. I think he finds the concept of the Olympics so cool, especially on the more obscure sports like skateboarding. He definitely would get really into whatever sport you played or are into.
Rook:
I think Rook would be fascinated by the beauty standards of your world. I think he'd imagine it to be less critical of people, because of the abscess of Beastmen and Fae, but is surprised to learn that it's actually the opposite. This makes him want to learn about all the different types of things people consider "beautiful" in your world.
Vil:
I mentioned this in a separate post, but he is super interested in all the different types of movies from your world. So many people tend to forget that he literally made a club about movies, and just boil him down to "pretty boy obsessed with looks." He'd watch all those commentary videos on movies and if it were possible, watch all your favorites. He'd also really be into the movie stars, especially since he has no concept of how famous they are.
Ortho:
All different types of tech. Obviously, Twisted Wonderland is more advanced, but it's still interesting to learn how your world is able to function without magic. I think since a lot of tech is similar, he'd be really drawn to the gaming consoles of your world and all the silly tech.
Idia:
This is kinda basic, but video games. He really likes all the different games from your world, and would love to play them if he could. We know he likes gotcha games, so I could imagine him wanting to play games like Genshin or Star Rail, but I could also see him really enjoying puzzle or strategy games.
Sebek
I read on his wiki that he enjoys reading, so I could imagine him being really interested in all the literature from your world. He's kinda surprised that humans were able to write so much on their own, and while he doesn't want to admit it, he wants to read all your favorite books from your world.
Silver
I also think Silver is really into history, and finds the history of your world really interesting. I think he finds the progression of your weapons really fascinating. He also finds the technological advancements so cool.
Lilia:
Some might say this doesn't count, but Lilia is interested in literally everything. Like he can't pick one thing to be interested in, because your world is so complex that it would be a disservice to pick just one thing. He does, however, find your war history interesting. Just don't explain the concept of "mutually assured destruction" to him, it might make him too sad.
Malleus:
I think he'd love to learn about art from your world, specifically architecture. Like we know he likes gargoyles and all, but I could see him really enjoying classic architecture and how it changes from place to place. It would totally inspire his own works as well.
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A/n: Tell me your ideas because some of these were really hard.
#soft yandere#yandere x reader#platonic yandere#vil twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#yandere twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland#twst x reader#yandere twst#twst
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Is it just me or can I imagine a yandere with a darling who’s immune system and possibly everything about them just screams weak and pathetic, BUT their darling is actually very strong mentally and has and will create the most fucked up, batshit crazy inventions from what used to be harmless to something that can help them escape and possibly destroy everything in its path.
But at the end of the day, they become sleepy koalas who hug whoever is near them and fall asleep :)
This could be a request or rant, whatever you can think of! I just wanted to see how different yandere writers would interpret this small imagination of mine <3
But as always, stay safe and take care! everyone needs a break some time to time~
Sorry, but the moment I read the Darling's description, I instantly thought of Dr. Finkelstein from Nightmare Before Christmas. You know, Sally's inventor. 😭 So let me quickly write this down while I'm in my Shelley vibes, because I like the idea a lot. With a little twist, if you don't mind. :)
Yandere! Monster x Inventor! Reader
A frail inventor, and their affectionate rag doll that has been carefully stitched together for the purpose of a caregiver. An artificial existence, trapped within the confines of your lonely tower. Or so you might think.
Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, obsessive behavior
"I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel..." [Frankenstein]
You dangle an old, rusty bell for a good minute before leaning back in your chair. The barely audible chimes are quickly swallowed by the loud, mechanical groans of the gears and engines occupying most of this room. No matter, his ears are good. You picked them yourself. And surely enough, within moments, the door to your laboratory opens and someone cautiously walks in.
A tall, slender man. Or rather, something meant to resemble a man. The skin is a clumsy patchwork of blues and grays - you're no talented seamster, sadly - gathering together the body parts in what feels like a parodic attempt at mimicking God and his image. You gaze at the creature approaching you with a tray of tea and sweets. Scarcely your best work, if you must adhere to honesty. Regardless of the quality of your labor at the time of creation, you are proud of the result. How could you not be? You know this man better than you know yourself. Every organ, every artificial nerve cord, every blemish and stitch of his body was placed according to your intentions. A masterfully detailed project that took you years to complete; not an easy feat considering the lamentable state of your health.
"Here's your deadly nightshade tea." The man places a small, porcelain cup on the desk. "Do let me know when I should take you to bed, (Y/N)." You wave your hand dismissively and stretch out your limbs. "Not yet. I am almost finished", you respond, returning to the mound of metal scraps and pipes before you. "Can I ask what you're making?" The pale creature lowers himself to your level, a curious smile plastered on his face. "It's a mechanical heart", you reveal boastfully. "Like the one I have?" You run your hand through the creature's hair affectionately. "Almost. I'm testing out a different way to build the valves, for a more efficient pumping cycle." You continue to explain the intricacies of your novel mechanism, occasionally sipping on your tea. "Who knows, you might have a sibling in the near future."
The man's smile drops in an instant, and his sunken eyes widen at your statement. "What? Am I- am I not enough?" You glance at the creature as he becomes increasingly frantic. "Don't speak nonsense. If it comes out alright, I'll upgrade your own parts as well. I'm a disciple of scientific virtue, of continuous improvement." Nonsense? Vile treachery! You might've chiseled the brain that throbs within the walls of his skull, but his mind is his alone, and you seem to lack a fundamental understanding of his feelings and thoughts. His ardent confessions of love are met with mockingly pitiful grins, in the way a parent soothes a needy child. Even now, your eyes reflect nothing more than sympathy towards his protest. A childish tantrum is what you're most likely thinking. You've no time for emotional bagatelles. He can read you like an open book.
You simply won't understand. There is no place for a stranger in the life he's crafted with his very own hands: you, and him, and the evening tea with a side of butterscotch biscuits, and the bedtime talks, and the stripped branches of the decaying tree that rap at the windows on stormy nights. You might be the Inventor, but he is not just a mere, humble servant, a rag doll to be tossed around or toyed with. As you will soon discover, after all.
You awaken in the midst of night with your temples burning from a much too familiar headache. Although it's not just the pain that has disturbed your slumber. You can hear rattles and thuds coming from the upstairs laboratory. An intruder? Oh, your creations! The sound of glass breaking and metal scraping sends you into spiraling despair. You fumble to reach the nightstand, patting the surface in search for the bell and keys. You shake the handle in a panic, unable to find anything else in the darkness.
The chaotic rustle abruptly stops, followed by descending footsteps. You hold your breath as the chamber door opens, but it's none other than your creature. "Another flare-up? Shall I bring you some medicine?" the man asks with monotonous courtesy. "What have you been doing? What's all that noise?" you demand, agitated, but upon lifting yourself off the mattress you discover your legs are numb and uncooperative. The man hurries to your bed with a worried frown, and you hear the familiar clatter of the keychain coming from one of his pockets. "Have you taken my keys? Cease this foolishness at once!" Indifferent to your reproach, he places a firm hold on your shoulders and forces you back down, tucking you in effortlessly.
"You must forgive my impertinence." he says in a pleading tone. "I do not wish to impede the works of your genius. As your partner, however, it is my duty to prevent you from making mistakes." You furrow your eyebrows at his words. "What mistakes? My invention was flawless!", you argue fervently. "Indeed it was, but not its purpose. What need have you for another being?" It is the creature's turn for a passionate speech. He stands up with a confidence you don't recognize and continues: "You should know by now that I am fit to perform any role. That of your servant, your caregiver, your lover, or anything else you may desire. You can resume your tinkering starting tomorrow, but such blasphemies to our bond as the one today will not be tolerated." He straightens his vest and reaches for the door handle. "I will prepare some tea to help you rest."
Inconceivable. Your own creation, built with your own hands...Has something escaped your attention? His dialogue is deranged, tainted by madness. "Have I done something wrong?" you mumble to yourself, deep in contemplation. "Nonsense." the creature turns to face you briefly. "It was you who created me after all. Everything is perfectly splendid."
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere x darling#male yandere x reader#yandere monster#yandere monster x reader#monster x human#monster x reader#yandere oc#yandere oc x reader#gender neutral reader#yandere headcanons#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#yandere creation
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Dads best friend 💫
(I stopped doing the red: Miguel thing bc it takes a long time)
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(summary: your dads best friend came to the small celebration of you coming back home from college, and since your father got drunk he stayed home to help with him after he thought you went to bed, and found you in your room.)
CW: sex toys, edging, spit kink, size difference, age gap (23 and 47), dirty talk, choking, cum licking.
(this one doesn't have sex, but I'm gonna make a series like this after KinkTober)
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"Welcome home sweetheart!" your dad called from the kitchen as you walked in with your suitcase in your hands.
"hey." you said, then walked into the kitchen. across the counter was Miguel, wearing a tight black shirt and a pair of gray jeans, holding a glass of whiskey.
"hey." he said and you looked at your dad. "what's he doing here?" you asked and your father raised an eyebrow.
"well that's no way to greet your dad's best friend." he said jokingly, and your father nodded.
"what's gotten into you? be polite." he said sternly and you sighed.
last time you'd seen Miguel, he found your diary while him and your father were packing your things to go back to college for another semester.
he'd read it, curious of course. and he found out you liked him, and for a long time at that. you went into descriptions of things you wanted him to do to you, and things you wanted to do to him. how you think he'd feel, estimates of how big his dick was, etc,. he was flattered to say the least, and confronted you about it, but you got embarrassed and had yelled at him.
"Hi Miguel." you mumbled, then walked down the hall to unpack your things.
after you'd finished, you came back out and your father and Miguel were sitting at the table, drinking and laughing. (your father more than Miguel.)
your father looked at you, clearly already buzzed and he smiled.
"well don't be shy! come over here and celebrate!" he gestured you to come over, and you sighed and sat at the table.
Miguel and your father were sitting across from each other, so you had to sit in the middle.
your father poured you a glass of whiskey, and you took it but didn't drink it.
"so how was this semester?" Miguel asked and you side eyed him.
"fine." you said plainly, and your dad was too drunk to notice your attitude so he didn't say anything about it this time.
Miguel just simply nodded, and you tried your best not to look at him. but his pecs poking out of his shirt were basically calling to you.
your father started blabbing about his new job as you sipped on your whiskey.
Miguel was nodding and occasionally asking a question, just to make him feel like he was listening, but again he was too drunk to notice.
your shorts were stuck to your thigh, so you adjusted yourself and pulled them off. your knee bumped Miguels, and you didn't notice but he had to turn away for a second.
he had a painful boner already growing in his boxers just from looking at you.
after about an hour or so, your father was WASTED. head slumping every so often, and his ranting turned into incoherent mumbling.
you sighed and looked at your dad, tapping his shoulder.
"Dad it's late. we should go to bed." he waved you off, and Miguel stood up.
you caught a glance of his boner, your eyes widening before he turned and helped your dad up.
"c'mon. we're gonna go upstairs." he said and then walked your dad down the hall.
after seeing his boner, you couldn't get the thought out of your head, feeling wet slick form in between your legs and you quickly stood up, walking to your room.
"I'm going to bed!" you called out, shutting your bedroom door and jumping in bed.
you lay on your back, slipping your hand into your pants and your fingers run over your clothed and soaked clit.
you moan softly, thinking about masturbating while you remember the sight but you don't wanna risk being heard so you pull out your phone instead.
Miguel in the other room was laying down your father, debating on going into the bathroom and jerking off to the thought of you, but he decided to check on you first.
he left your fathers room, walking down the hall and knocking on your door.
you looked up from your phone, seeing his head poke through the door.
"hey." he said and you looked back down at your phone.
"...hi." you mumble
he looks at you, then steps fully inside, shutting the door and he stands in front of it.
you side eye him, noticing that he's as tall as the doorway and you imagine what'd it be like if he broke your back.
you shake the thought away, then put your phone down.
"what do you want?" he blinks a couple times, his hands folded in front of his crotch so you don't notice his boner again.
"I was just checking on you." he says and smiles a little.
you sit up, crossing your arms.
"I have a headache. no thanks." you say and he looks around
"does your dad have any Tylenol around? I could bring you some." he offers and you didn't really have a headache, but you had to play the part anyways.
"I have some in my drawer." you point to your dresser, but you made the mistake of not specifying which one.
he opens the second drawer "this one?"
your eyes widen "no! that's not-"
he looks down in the drawer, seeing a pretty pink vibrating wand, and a printed out work picture of him next to it.
you sit there silently, watching him as he crouches down and picks up the wand and the picture.
"I-"
"I could've just given you a better picture y'know." he says and looks back at you with a small smirk.
he holds up the wand "you use this?" he asks
you hesitate, not knowing if you should come up with an excuse or something.
so you turn away.
"I'll take it as a yes." he says, setting down the picture and bringing the wand up to his nose.
you hide underneath your blankets, hoping this is all a dream until he pulls it away from your face, his large calloused hand gently touching your jaw.
he was so much bigger than you, and he was hunched over just to see you.
he held up the wand, setting it on your stomach.
"I could do better." he leans down and whispers in your ear, gently kissing it.
shivers go down your spine. you want it, but you don't know how to ask.
your brain musters up a weak "please?"
he grins, his large hands sitting you up and he steps back.
he takes the wand, flipping the switch on.
his other hand runs against his belt, basically teasing it. he moves the wand in between your legs, rubbing it against your thigh.
"spread your legs." he says, and you immediately sit up a little more, leaning against the wall and you spread your legs like he asked.
he pressed the tip of the wand against where your clit would be, your panties and shorts barely softening the strong vibrations.
your hips squirm a bit, a squeak leaving your mouth and rubs it against your crotch, sending your head jerking back against the wall and your knuckles turning white from gripping the sheets.
"my pretty girl..." he cooed, his hand coming off of his belt and rubbing circles on your thigh.
you whimpered, his thumb flicking the '+' button on the wand, making the vibrations harder.
"so dirty. coming undone for a man twice your age hm?" he grinned, a small moan leaving your mouth and your hips twitched.
"I'm gonna make you scream my name later. just like you had in those diaries."
"k-keep going..." you whine, a knot twisting in your stomach as he kept rubbing the wand against your clothed crotch.
"close?" he asked, pressing down a little harder which make your hips buck.
you nodded quickly, feeling the knot loosen.
and then, he pulled the wand away from you, making your eyes tear up.
"not yet princess." he cooed, turning the wand off and revealing the slick that seeped through your pants.
he set the wand aside, pulling off his belt with one hand and tossing it onto the floor.
you looked up at him, watching him unbutton and unzip his pants. he let them fall to the floor, kicking them off.
you looked down at the bulge, visible veins on it popping through and stretching the fabric.
his cock was that big.
your jaw dropped, wide and your mouth pooled with saliva at the thought of that in your mouth.
he grinned "that's as far as you'll need your mouth open chica."
you looked up at him, sliding off of the bed and you got on your knees in front of him, your back on the side of your bed.
"eager huh?" he cooed and you nodded
"can I?" you looked up at him and he already imagined your face covered in his cum, mascara dripping down your cheeks.
he held your chin, his thumb rubbing against your bottom lip.
"open." he ordered, and you opened your mouth widely.
he leaned down, spitting into your mouth and he shut your jaw.
your eyes widened with shock, swallowing it. you were surprised it happened, but you liked it.
"lemme see?" you opened your mouth for him, sticking out your tongue.
he nodded and pressed his thumb against your tongue.
"good girl. now you be quiet okay? don't want your dad hearing us."
you nodded, and he pulled his thumb out of your mouth and you closed your mouth.
you looked down at his bulge right in front of your face. he was so hard you didn't know how he was resisting right now.
"can I?" you ask again, looking up at him and he nods.
"go ahead."
you slowly lean forward a bit, pulling the waistband down and his boxers to his knees.
the tip of his cock hits your nose, and you lean backwards, your hands on his thighs as you look at his size, wondering how it'll even fit in your mouth.
he grinned, his ego clearly boosted.
"well go on. don't just gawk at it."
you snap out of it, nodding and you wrapped your hand around the base, your thumb rubbing against him.
he lets out a low groan, reaching down and pushing your head closer.
you follow his lead, opening your mouth and making sure he won't touch your teeth.
you barely get him halfway before he hits the back of your throat, making you gag.
he grins and gently pushes your head on the bed behind you.
"just sit there and look pretty okay?" he says and you nod.
you keep your hand wrapped around him, your tongue flat against his cock.
he starts to move his hips, groaning a bit and everytime he hits the back of your throat he pulls back.
his thrusts become faster, his hands on both sides of your head as he uses your face as a Fleshlight.
tears stream down your face, your makeup getting messed up.
he reaches down, wrapping his hand around your throat and feeling his own cock throat-fuck you.
your eyes rolled to the back of your head, not able to breathe and he spat on your face.
"c'mon c'mon just a little longer princess okay?? I'm so close." he groans, throwing his head back and he lets go of your throat.
with a couple more thrusts, his warm seed fills your throat and he pulls out.
you lean over, coughing and accidentally spitting up his cum as you wipe your face off.
he looked down at you, his cock twitching.
"you okay bebe?" he asks, touching your hair.
you catch your breath, staying silent for a second and you look down at the cum you spit out.
"...aww." you mumble disappointed, and he gets an idea.
"lick it." he says and you look up at him.
"lick it?" you ask, and he nods.
"yes. lick it." he deadpans, and you look back down at the cum. you lean down, licking the salty seed off of the carpet.
"good job." he praises, stuffing his cock back into his pants.
————————————————
this is delicious.
I'm gonna make a series with dads bsf, so stay tuned!
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#spiderman 2099#2099#astv miguel#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel ohara x you#kinktober#dark garfield#dads best friend#age g4p
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