#i wrote this all from pure memory
Note
giving miguel head while he explains complicated concepts of the multiverse. 😳 at first he chuckles when reader requests this, but he starts to struggle and lose track of what he was talking about. his voice becomes more desperate as he tries to explain all this stuff he knows to reader with his talons gripping at his love’s skull and his voice shaking and melting into pretty breathy moans until he can’t think of what he was talking about and instead fucks reader’s throat til he’s an overstimulated, sobbing mess
𝗧𝗘𝗔𝗖𝗛 𝗠𝗘
✧ 𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦 gn!reader x miguel o'hara
✧ 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 blowjob (reader giving), deep throat, slight overstimulation at the end, reader has no gender or genitalia mentioned, a little of blood
✧ 𝖠/𝖭 This was in my drafts for two weeks and honestly I don't remember what/how I wrote half of it, but still, this request was delicious
"—Are you listening to me?"
You blinked, seeming to come back to reality and looked into Miguel's judgmental brown eyes.
"I've been speaking Spanish for the last ten minutes," he continued before you had time to speak.
"I am," you insisted. Your first instinct was to lie. The truth was no, you weren't paying the slightest attention to any of all that complicated science and physics coming out of Miguel's mouth, even though from the beginning your focus hadn't left his lips framing every complex and long word, occasionally rising to appreciate that expression of concentration on his usually serious face that shouldn't be so erotic to anyone but you.
Miguel's eyes fell to your lap, as if he could see through the pillow you were holding, his brow immediately frowning in that way that indicated his bad mood.
"So what is the simple concept of what constitutes a Multiverse?" he questioned, sounding so much like a hot, strict teacher that you felt your sex throb in response, too distracted to even try to think of an answer. "What are the ways to overcome the barriers that separate our world from other universes?" Silence. "What happens when there is a divergence in events? Where does the variety of these universes originate?"
You knew the answer to some of these questions as someone who had heard more than enough about this subject: the multiverse was nothing more than the aggregate of parallel realities and bla bla bla. But that wasn't what Miguel wanted to hear, he wanted concise, long and scientifically coherent answers and that's why you preferred to keep your mouth shut.
"You weren't listening," he concluded with a sigh.
"Keep talking, I'll pay attention this time."
Miguel looked into your darkened eyes, noting the warm innuendo in your tone and then once again, his attention fell to the pillow that covered your lap. "You're excited," he observed, then continued seeming disgusted and irritated: "Why? Physics does that to you?"
“You do this to me,” you said. Miguel's expression seemed to become even darker. "You always seem so focused and intelligent while talking about these things I can't understand, it's sexy."
"You were the one who asked me to teach you, I didn't know this was a fantasy of yours," he pointed out.
"I know, I know, I'm sorry," you asked soflty as you got up from the sofa where you sat next to Miguel and fell to your knees in front of his feet, your hands running up his bare legs until they slid under the hem of his shorts. "Continue teaching me, please? I promise I'll pay attention this time."
Miguel half growled at you, not seeming too willing to indulge in your fantasies even as his legs opened in pure muscle memory to give you room to fit between them and desire flashed in his eyes.
"How are you supposed to pay attention to what I say with my penis in your mouth? That doesn't seem like a very concise teaching method." Even with you kneeling in front of him on the floor of the apartment's living room, Miguel seemed genuinely concerned about teaching you some real knowledge about multiverse.
You rubbed your hand against the bulge in his shorts to bring him to hardness, laughing a little at how genuine Miguel was sometimes.
"You talk, I listen, then you can test me to see if I really learned something or not."
Miguel opened his mouth, looking ready to retort with some argument, but your fingers fitting into the elastic waistband of his shorts was enough to make him swallow back his words. “Okay,” he agreed finally, lifting his hips off the couch to let you pull his shorts down his legs and discard them on the floor.
"Without underwear?" You inquired teasingly, your fingers closing around Miguel's thick cock that was slowly getting hard for you and pulling him into slow, steady thrusts.
Miguel sighed at the sudden touch, a light blush coloring his cheeks at the teasing.
"Back to the beginning," he started to say, ignoring your words. "When we talk about the Multiverse, this refers to a conception of multiple universes or parallel realities existing simultaneously. Together, these universes are presumed to comprise everything that exists: the entirety of space, time, matter, energy..."
Your tongue trailed in a wet line from the base to the head, interrupting Miguel's speech as he trailed off with a soft sigh.
That usual satisfaction made you smile between the licks you dragged along his length, feeling the pulsation of the bulging veins against your tongue, your fingers keeping his dick firm at the base. Your lips parted, gently sucking the side of the bulbous, red head where drops of precum were beginning to leak.
Miguel let out the most beautiful moan, one of his hands falling into your hair.
“Oh,” he sighed softly, voice already falling into that deep tone that always did things to you. You looked up at the same time you slid your tongue over the slit leaking from his cock; Miguel's eyes met yours, warm and shining. He took a deep breath and continued speaking: "In the concept of multiverse, a scheme is imagined in which... all universes aggregate each other across an infinite vastness..."
He looked so composed even with your mouth on his dick and you wanted to break that composure of his until it became nothing, until his mind stopped working and the only coherent thought he had left was fucking your throat.
Miguel doesn't stop talking when your fingers tighten around his length in a grip that borders on painful and your mouth opens so you can take his length. His cock filled your mouth, the warm, smooth skin sliding over your tongue and inward in a delicious, welcome weight that made your skin tingle. Almost instinctively, you searched for more, leaning forward and taking him deeper, your free hand feeling Miguel's thigh muscles tense under your touch.
Saliva pooled in your mouth and as soon as you pulled your head back, spit slid down his length to his heavy balls and a wet line ran down your chin, a mess you knew Miguel liked. As expected, his breathing stuttered and you saw him losing his train of thought at the sight of your saliva-glossy lips stretching around the thickness of his dick.
"...In addition to the state superpos- superposition property, there are many other phenomena that occur as quantum-scale systems, such as quantum tunneling, quantum e-entanglement..."
The firm fingers tangled in the strands of your hair suddenly became sharper, like thick needles scratching your scalp. The threat of the grab hung in the air, filling your stomach with a tense heat as you realized they were Miguel's deadly talons, which could penetrate through the fragility of your skin in seconds and even an accidental scratch could draw blood. This realization shook you to the core and a moan rose in your throat.
"... So you can connect gravity and the other three forces in an apparently firm way?" he panted, sweat glistening on his forehead. "Dios mío."
It took you a few seconds to understand the jumbled words that came out of his mouth, but when you did you knew that you had achieved your objective, as the argument didn't seem to fit into any part of the multiverse theory.
Tears blocked the corners of your vision, jaw opening wider to take Miguel's cock deeper, the tip slapping against your cheek and tongue before going deeper, and then more and more. The salty taste of precum, sweat, and something else you could only describe as Miguel's taste rising in the back of your throat, clouding all your senses and pushing away the urgency burning between your legs. All that mattered was Miguel.
At that moment, your entire world was just Miguel's body contracting on the couch under the heat of your mouth, the heavy leg he had thrown over your shoulder and his heel digging into your shoulder blade in an attempt to bring you impossibly closer. There was a distinct feeling of discomfort growing in your body, Miguel's grip was strong and painful, his rationality seemed to have dissolved under the pleasure.
"[n-name] [name] [name] [name], por favor." The beautiful moans of your name in his voice echoed through the room in repeated, stammered repetitions.
The gag reflex kicked in, the bulbous head of Miguel's cock pressing past the tightness of your throat. Your eyes closed in an attempt to fight the immediate instinct to choke and suffocate, the desire to give Miguel everything he wanted was stronger. You willingly obeyed the grip of the talons on your head keeping you still, your mouth falling open and easy for the deep thrusts.
Resisting him, the urgency with which his hips undulated, as if he needed the pleasure to breathe, felt equal to having at least one pulled muscle and a deep cut left behind.
Fortunately, fighting him was far from your intention.
You could feel as his dick twitched inside your mouth and the thick, salty liquid filled your throat, which rose and fell as you swallowed. Your eyes opened, tears running down your cheeks, you closed your lips around Miguel's pulsing length, sucking. Miguel's reaction was lascivious, his thrusts becoming erratic, whole body shaking violently, his talons sinking at least a few centimeters into your skin, until it breaks under the pressure.
Hot liquid ran down the back of your neck, the pain was a distant thing in your warm body, your fingers digging into the soft skin of Miguel's thighs as you pressed the nose against the curly hair of his groin. Miguel whimpered as his cock continued to spurt small jets deep down your throat, tears glistening in his eyes and fangs sinking into the lower lip.
You had lied again, you hadn't paid attention to anything he said, but it didn't matter since you doubted that Miguel remembered what even was a subatomic particle now.
#x male reader#x gn reader#across the spiderverse x reader#across the spiderverse x male reader#across the spiderverse x gn reader#miguel o'hara x male reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x gender neutral reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#atsv x male reader#atsv x gn reader#atsv x reader#atsv smut
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The Day After
cw: dubcon, male reader, overstimulation, implied prior engagement in sexual activities, ooc, porn without plot
A/N: I have never read or watched Jujutsu Kaisen and I don't think I will have time to do so anytime soon so don't expect an accurate writing of Toji. I just wrote this purely for the horny lol. This is also a pretty old draft I wrote this back in 2021 and haven't edited it, just wanted to get rid of it from my google docs. Anyway, enjoy or don't.
Toji’s eyes fluttered open just doing that seemed hard, a familiar ache in his lower abdomen and his ass. Memories of last night came flooding back, he opened his eyes fully and saw your naked body lying next to him, sleeping peacefully, it’s almost like you weren’t the person who fucked him until he passed out last night. He groaned in annoyance, partly from the pain that’s coursing through his body and the other from the fact that he wasn’t able to top you last night, there was also a bit of anxiety from you telling people about this, but it turned him on more than anything even though he was too prideful to admit it. He tries to get up but is immediately pulled down, he looks up and finds you pinning him from above
“Where are you going, To-ji” you asked the smaller man, saying his name mockingly, he tsked at you before answering
“I’m going to get something to drink” he replied
“Hm, why do you have to go anywhere for that? I have something for you to drink here” you replied slowly stroking your dick, smirking upon seeing the faint blush on the tips of Toji’s ears
“W-what the fuck are you saying” Toji replied after much thinking, silently cursing himself for stuttering, you smirked raising your eyebrows in amusement, you hold your dick on your hand jerking it off faster, Toji quickly catches you doing so and tries to hide the fear and anticipation
“What- you’re-” before he could even finish you place your dick on top of his chest, pushing his pecs together, his pink cheeks blooms into a bloody red, words stuck in his throat
“Hah, so all it takes for you to shut up is a cock? I knew you were a slut” you spoke after a while, he opens his mouth to give you a snide remark but before a sound could even get out of his mouth, you thrust your dick inside him, his eyes widen in surprise and he gags from the sudden thrust
“There you go, just shut up and take it like the slut you are, yeah?” Toji closed his eyes as he unconsciously nodded his head, swirling his tongue on the tip of your cock to try and take a taste of you. You snort at his face, you haven’t even done much yet but he’s already so pliant, looks like fucking him dumb last night did the trick.
Again you thrust your hips to his mouth and he quickly responds licking your cock all over and bobbing his head the best he can, Toji brought up his hands to his chest and brought them together to give you more stimulation, he pushes his body up to rub you, you sigh in pleasure, breathing becoming more ragged as he continues, you continue on thrusting your hips in a slow steady rhythm, you stop for a moment and he looks up at you as if searching for an answer why you stopped but he didn’t have the chance to ask why when he felt your tip prodding his entrance teasingly, small whimpers escapes his lips while you tease him with your tip, he was getting frustrated he just wanted you inside of him already!
“Are you putting it inside or not?” he glares at you, you hum amused at him for snapping at you, you snicker then finally snapped your hips forward to get your cock inside him, despite how much you fucked him last night his hole was so tight, sucking you in so eagerly.
Toji moaned at the feeling of your cock inside him, no matter how much you pounded him last night he couldn’t get used to the feeling of your cock inside him, it was just too much, your scent, your size, your stare, everything was so overwhelming and he wasn’t sure how to deal with all of these things at once, it was almost suffocating and although he would never admit it out loud he wouldn’t mind drowning in your presence.
You wanted to wait for him to relax but recalling how much shit he’s given you, you pushed the thought back and started thrusting into his tight hole. Toji was caught off guard. He didn't expect you to go immediately; he thought you’d at least be considerate enough for him to get ready, but he found it quite…hot.
“Hah, you’re hole just tightened, is this turning you on? What a slut" You asked the small man, he let out a choked moan, he couldn’t catch his breath from your pounding, how do you still have this much energy after everything you did to him last night.
Toji looked dazed, all you could do is chuckle at his expression, putting his legs on your shoulders and pressing his chest with yours, you trailed kisses down his neck and then bit onto his skin that was already full of bruises, he screamed as he feels blood trickle down his neck
“Ngh- not- AHH!” again he was cut off by his moans as you set a punishing pace, pounding into him roughly
“Haah! Agh Ahn~ W-wai- you fucking- ba- Hahh~ bastard” Toji kept getting cut off by his moans, it was actually quite impressive despite how fast you’re going, you wonder how fast you’ll need to thrust for him to shut up
Finally you stopped thrusting after a bit, he pants and tries to catch his breath propping himself up using his elbows to look at you
“What? Tired already? Thought you were going to shut me up with your dick? You ca-” Toji let out a silent scream, you thrust into him again this time harder, faster, rougher, he didn’t even know that was possible, what is with this inhumane speed?
“Hmm? Why are you quiet now? Isn’t. This. What. You. Wanted?” you asked, thrusting harder into him to emphasize your words, all he could do as a reply was to moan and whine he couldn’t let a single word out because of the sudden shock of you thrusting in him
“That’s more like it, you’re prettier just being an obedient little slut so just stay that way, alright?” you taunt the man, he nodded dumbly too fucked out to register your words. You chuckle, he definitely looked better dumbed down like this.
Toji suddenly shivered and you took that as a sign that you found his spot, you smirk at him and adjust his legs to hit his spot precisely, pistolling your hips you aim for his spot and thrust into him fast and rough, just how he liked it
“Mhh- Ahh! Ngh I- going to- ha- ack!” Toji tried to tell you that he was close but he was so fucked out that you can’t understand anything he’s saying but the tightening of his ass, his shivering, his lolled out tongue and his rolled back eyes spoke for itself
“Hah, cumming already? Aren’t you a certified whore how can you not take at least this much?” you said, getting cut off to breathe every once and again from how fast you were thrusting
“Ngh- can- please cum–!” he said again trying to warn you, opening his mouth wide a scream ripped out of his throat as he came all over his stomach and chest, some of it landing on your stomach, but even as he just came you still haven’t stopped thrusting, sobbing, Toji tried to push you away
“N-No mo– Ah~ ngh- plea- I- haah~” sobbing in between his words, you don’t bother trying to understand his words, just indulging yourself with his inside and chasing your own high you were even more turned on by him sobbing underneath you, Toji was terrified to feel you grow bigger in him, how was that even possible?
“You- just now you- nggh~ I— haah~ wai-” Toji couldn’t let out coherent words anymore he was so drunk at the feeling of you, he can’t handle this any longer, just how much more will you keep going?
Finally after what seemed like forever, Toji felt your cum fill him up and pushed him to the edge as he came again moaning your name. Toji pants, sighing in relief as he tried to catch his breath, his relieve was short lived as you pushed out of him and lift him up to make him lay on his stomach then push inside of him again
“Haah! Ngh~ Please I can’t anymore, no- m-ngh- haah~ more p-leashee~!” Toji’s begging fell onto deaf ears as you adjusted his hips, putting his knees on the bed and lifting his ass before pulling out until only your tip remained in him before slamming in again and again not letting him catch his breath.
Toji clutched the sheets and again tried to get away from you, crawling away, but your hard and fast thrusts made his legs wobbly and he couldn't find the strength to keep on moving.
You smirk as you feel him stop trying to get away and slowly giving in to your touch. You lean down to his ear and nibble on his earlobe
“That’s it, did you figure it out? Below me is where you belong, so stay still~” you whispered huskily in his ear, Toji felt shivers down his spine upon feeling your hot breath on his nape and hearing your husky voice that’s a bit out of breath from how fast you were going.
Feeling his hole suddenly tighten you groaned causing his hole to tighten around you even more, ah did he find that hot? Toji was easier than you thought. Hearing you chuckle right beside his ear, Toji felt his face getting hot, what the hell is up with him? Why is he feeling this way? Over a chuckle? How fucking pathetic
“You keep on squeezing me Toji, what are you thinking inside that pretty little head of yours hm?” you comment, and to your delight that made him tighten around you even more
“Haha, you make me feel so good baby, let me repay the favor~” you whisper teasingly, adjusting your grip and the position of your thrusts, you thrust into him perfectly hitting his prostate, Toji gasped.
You began hammering into him smashing his prostate repeatedly, the poor boy couldn’t even let out a whole moan as he keeps getting cut off from more of his moans, his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he clutches the sheets harder, he bites onto the pillow below him feeling ashamed of the loud moans he keeps on releasing.
You brought your hand down his face and forced him to look at you before you went down and crashed your lips with him, your other hand going down to his dick stroking him rough and fast, Toji gasped as you had planned, you shoved your tongue inside his mouth, exploring the inside of his mouth kissing him feverishly.
Toji feels himself melt and become more pliant to your touches once he feels your tongue inside his mouth, gulping in his moans and kissing him as if you’ve starved and his lips are the only things that can satiate your hunger, and he wasn’t wrong— you have waited way too long for this, you’re going to take every chance you get and make sure he won’t be able to forget the way you touched him and played with his body as you please like no one did before.
Separating from his lips you place your hand on his tits, you start to squeeze and massage them, pinching his nipples and playing with it. Toji's breath becomes ragged and whines every now and then slips from his mouth, everything was so overwhelming, just then his vision turned white and again he came onto the sheets, tears pricking his eyes and falling down his cheeks onto the sheets, not long after you came inside him
“Haa I- hngh~ are- mmh!” Not understanding what he’s trying to say, you caught his lips in yours and kissed again, Toji noticed a trace of gentleness and savored every single bit of it until it quickly disappeared.
Feeling him stop from moving you separated your lips from him, seeing him passed out you quirked your eyebrow, you contemplated if you were going to continue or let him rest, glancing at his face to see his peaceful expression one more time, you came to the decision that you’d let Toji take a rest for now.
Pulling out of him you picked him up and laid him down on his back, taking out the sheets and venturing into the bathroom to fetch wet towels to wipe his body down with. After replacing the sheets and cleaning Toji and yourself up, you lay down beside him, pulling him close to you. You convince yourself it’s just because it was cold and wanted some source of warmth, before closing your eyes and falling asleep.
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path to you
• pairing: theodore nott x reader
• now playing: war of hearts by ruelle
• word count: 7.3k
• genre: angst, fluff every now and then
— not proofread, i wrote this on a whim the other night and only finished last night.
Theodore Nott stood amidst the crowd of returning students aboard the Hogwarts Express, his heart heavy with a blend of emotions. His eyes were ablaze, lit with determination in search of that one familiar figure with locks he spent nights running his fingers through. However, as the last call to board the train echoed through the station, his hope was diminished when there was still no sign of you.
In truth, he knew it was futile right from the moment the both of you had left Hogwarts. The incident— if that was what he would even call it for that— was the moment that Voldemort had truly begun making his appearance known to the students of Hogwarts.
He was no innocent bystander to this, the mark that burns on his right arm is a constant, painful reminder of that. His father had mercilessly subjected him through the initiation process, appointing him watch of Draco to ensure he would follow the Dark Lord’s order just as others had been compelled to do.
However, in the brief moment that he knew your eyes had latched on to an exposed skin of his sleeved arm, a fear struck him, unlike the familiar one that had long been instilled by his father. He decided that he would rather weather the searing pain that seemed to burn deeper for every day that Dumbledore roamed the grounds than prove he was no trustworthy person to you now. He would ignore the ache that pried into his very soul as you steer a conversation away as he picks you up from your friends.
Despite this, in the dark and dreary summer, he is left terribly alone with only thoughts of you entangled in his mind. The old days of sunshine only remain in memory, as he supposes is a communal thing for all of you as Voldemort continued to infiltrate and pollute the magical world with his influence.
Theodore had written you a myriad of letters over the many days, his heart engraved with every droplet of ink that marks the parchment.
I miss you.
I beg of you to tell me that I’m not as forgettable as your silence otherwise makes me feel.
But every owl that returned carried nothing but itself. No words from you. Not a single one even from your friends, a choice he made in desperation, regardless of the consequences if his father found out he had been in contact with one of you.
He knew that they knew where you were, even if it might not be the entirety of it. If there was one thing he truly regretted before, it would be his cowardice. His fear runs deep in the thick crimson inside of him that dictated his every move. Though he shares a strong companionship with Mattheo and the others, Theo remains in awe of the camaraderie that you have with your friends at this time.
Driven purely by the need to be a catalyst; to make an end of this war.
With the sudden void torn into his at your disappearance, Theo found his heart crystallising once again, trying to preserve what little warmth is left by you.
Praying to a god he doesn’t believe in, begging that there will never come a day that he won’t know your last words.
You exhale slowly.
The morning had barely started, and the sun was still but a ray in the dim sky. You tug the blanket over your face, blinking once, twice. The stream below the knife-like hill they had taken camp in, continued its hum.
It has been roughly three months since the start of the school year started, and four months since you have made the decision to accompany Harry, Hermione, and Ron in the hunt for Horcruxes. Four, lengthy months since you’ve last exchanged words with Theo, afraid that you would let this mission slip, Merlin knows he knows you better than you did.
If circumstances were different and he was not tied by that horrific mark, maybe he would be even with you. But reality is unforgiving and you are left in sorrow for the easy times you’ve taken advantage of.
There were times it felt ghastly to keep certain things to yourself, for so long it had been you and Theo, sharing the deepest truths. Then in a snap of a finger, it seemed most of what came out of you were lies, all in the name of protecting your friends. But it was paramount to be cautious nowadays, even if Theo was careful and dedicated to keeping crucial information, you couldn’t shake off the fear that Voldemort may attempt to pry on his mind.
Harry, with all his strength, is no exception to Voldemort’s manipulation of the mind. What more of Theo?
You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if everything came crumbling down the moment Voldemort sought Theo’s memories.
Sometimes, you couldn't help but feel the urge to apparate for even just a moment. Just a minute. You found it difficult to get rid of the nagging feeling that he now despised you for doing this, for running away and leaving him, despite the promise you made only a year ago. It was a constant tug-of-war of the heart and the mind, most days leaving you drained in addition to the physical exhaustion.
I miss you.
I hate this uncertain silence that does nothing but bring you forth.
“Y/N? Are you awake?” You hear a voice call out.
You snap yourself out of your thought
“What time is it?” You mumble. Hermione’s sharp ears are used to your morning voice by now. “It’s already 8 in the morning, Y/N. Get up.”
“Goddess!” You shot up, “Why didn’t you wake me up earlier, my shift was supposed to be an hour ago.”
With one less person in your team, as Ron left in his fury, the rest of you had to take shorter rests now.
“It’s fine, I couldn’t sleep anyway,” Hermione reassures her. You stand and make your way down to the table where a cup of steaming tea is left for you. “Are you alright?” You ask.
She merely hums in question but makes no indication that she will answer. Instead, she walks out of the tent to sit on one of the rocks nearby.
“He will be fine, mione.” You say, following her. “Ron has been through so much in the past, I think by this time, he would be able to get by on his own.”
You pull her into a side embrace, holding her close without saying anything as she rests limply underneath your arm. She needed it. Sacrificing the risk of her parents forever forgetting that Hermione was their daughter had taken a heavy toll on your friend. Leaving them in the house she deemed her sanctuary from the destruction, the madness that reigned outside.
With Ron having left the three of you. Although you weren’t as close with the redhead, you knew he had been Hermione’s shoulder— ever since forever. You understood how she felt or even a spectre of it, for you, too, had left someone behind.
Someone that you could only beg the gods remains breathing and unsullied by the encroaching darkness that seemed to follow him.
“And what about you?” Hermione whispered softly, the tears that lined her cheeks dry now. “What do you mean?”
“Nott.” Hearing the name instantly formed a small, melancholic smile on your face.
“I’m your best friend, Y/N. You can stop pretending to be the shield for us now, Harry and I will be here for you. You can cry.”
Your gaze remains fixed on the sight before you. Atop the hill, the pale gold ball of sunlight emerges and bathes the cold stone in warmth. Reminiscent of the days before the Triwizard Cup, before Cedric died. It all seemed so far away now.
“I’ve exhausted all the tears from me already, Hermione. I miss him terribly. I may just crumble beneath his feet the very moment that I see him again.”
“It’s difficult what you had to do. I can’t even begin to decipher it. The both of you had consistently defied, and will likely continue to do so, every misconception that the others had of you back when you were still friends."
“I hate how there was not a scintilla of hesitation and doubt in me when I had to keep so many things from him when I had to lie to him.” You croak out, voice barely above a whisper.
“You did so because you knew that in the end, it wasn't just for the best of the wizarding world that you deliberately did all of that, it’s all for him. You did it because you wanted to keep him safe from that vile, bald head.”
You nod. It's true. Ever since you found out about the abuse that Theo’s father inflicted upon him, you knew that there would come a day when he would pay the price for it. Knowing that he couldn’t escape him before he turned 17, the only solace you can provide is your unwavering companion.
It only weighed on you heavily that Theo would have to endure it all alone again so that you could work to permanently sever the ties between him and his malevolent father..
“We’re kids.”
Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over, and you clenched your fists in frustration. At Voldemort, at Theo’s father, at your parents who left you all alone, at the lost innocence of your childhood.
“We’re supposed to be ripping our hair off for NEWTS, preparing for life after we leave Hogwarts, dancing and drinking our teenage years away. Why did we have to make all these choices? The storybooks on my shelf speak nothing of this.”
Then, her gaze unwavering firmly set on you as she sat up straight. “We’re doing this so that Voldemort, or any wizard that dares follow his steps, may never inflict the kind of pain on anyone else, the way he did to us and our parents.”
Heart heavy with foreboding and unease, Theodore stands among the students of Hogwarts in the dimly lit Great Hall. The room, devoid of its warm glow and chatter, was bathed in eerie silence where Snape, now the headmaster of Hogwarts, had summoned every student. From the tense shoulders of the man, Theo could only surmise that it was something important. It was rare to see Snape truly bothered.
“Many of you are surely wondering why I have summoned you here at this hour. It came to my attention that earlier this evening... Harry Potter was sighted in Hogsmeade.”
A murmured thrill fills the Hall. Theodore’s eyes widened, as he waited for a sign. If Harry Potter was nearby, it could only mean that you were too.
Snape continues, raising his voice a tad bit to quell the noise. “Should anyone — student or staff — attempt to aid Mr. Potter, that person will be punished in a manner consistent with the severity of their transgression. Rest assured: So long as I am Headmaster at Hogwarts, Harry Potter will never again step foot in this castle.”
Theo only hears the latter of what he said, mind distracted by the idea that you could be in the castle. His feet itched to run out and find you himself. Not an ounce of care for what the man in front is saying.
“Now then. If anyone here has knowledge of Mr. Potter’s movements this evening... I invite them to step forward now.”
However, the sound of footsteps catches his attention in the dead silence, and the younger Slytherin students near him exchange glances with each other. Then a figure appears from the shadows at the back of the hall. Someone that brought forth a sigh of a blend of relief and disbelief from Theo. An action that the younger him would probably scoff at.
“I think I can help you out with that…” Harry exclaims, “It appears that, even with all your thorough defensive measures, you might have a security problem, Headmaster”
The students all stare in utter perplexity, each wondering when and how the bespectacled boy had entered the castle. A vacuous question really for Harry has proven countless times that he is, in several ways, a gifted person who is filled with more courage and resolve than anyone in this room. Even Theodore, who’s good friends with Draco, can admit that fact.
The sight of Harry struck a spark of hope in a place that had grown increasingly bleak since the death of Dumbledore— Diggory’s death if you will. But the spectacle wasn’t yet done there when the doors of the Great Hall swung open, revealing the members of the Order. Their arrival further sets a ripple among the unexpecting students, though from the looks of Harry’s friends, it seems that they were the ones to aid them.
His gaze shifts to watch as one by one, they line up in a defensive pose behind Harry. He Recognizing a few familiar faces like the Weasleys, Hermione, Lovegood, Professor Lupin, Fleaur from Beauxbatons, and even some members of the Ministry.
“How dare you stand where he stood.“ Harry shouts. “Tell them the truth of that night’”
Theodore’s breath catches in his throat. The air becomes suffocating at the reminder of those times, days that still hunt him and the others. He takes slow inhales and exhales to calm himself, knowing that now is not the right time and place.
Snape with his eyes like shards of ice, faced Harry Potter. Theodore watches as he moves as if to retrieve his wand, but before he can do so, McGonagall comes forward and sends a blast in Snape’s direction. Snape pivots and barely rebounds the spell in defence,
Chaos ensues as the rest of the staff leaps forward with their wands out. A short but intense exchange erupted in the middle of the room, making the students shuffle to the side to avoid being hit by the spells and curses that flashed through the air like crackling lightning.
Snape, ever the formidable wizard despite his attitude, held his ground with a stoic determination. But Theo couldn’t help but notice how his old professor merely deflected the curses thrown upon him and never cast his own. It piqued his curiosity knowing that he was a master of the dark arts, prominent in the way lectures were replaced by dark arts in his headship.
In the end, Snape yielded, a moment that sent shockwaves to many.
“A coward, that man.” Professor McGonagall proclaims, before turning to Harry. “Mr. Potter, do you mind telling me what you’re doing here, which, I trust you realise, is an act of complete lunacy?”
Harry replies by simply telling her that he is a Gryffindor which comes to no surprise to the woman. McGonagall then turns to the rest of the students, calling them to settle down after the whole debacle.
Just then, Harry suddenly winces, pressing his palms to his temple, before a rumble rings throughout the Hall. A dark cloud swarming in the Enchanted Ceiling, imminent that the beginning of the war will begin any time now. It is the screams and face of pain that confirms it.
A familiar voice to Theodore sounds off in a deathly whisper in his head. And by the looks of everyone, it was the same for them.
“I know that many of you want to fight. Some of you may even think this is wise. But this is folly. Give me Harry Potter. Do this and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave Hogwarts untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded.“
With that, the whispers recede followed by the dark clouds evaporating into thin air. For a moment, silence ensues. Pansy’s screechy voice scratches in his right ear from where she stands beside him.
“Harry’s right there! Somebody grab him!” Yet nobody gives her a second thought. Everyone’s attention shifts instead to Filch who loudly enters through the Hall, screaming that everyone’s out of bed. The man made Theo chuckle inwardly, making a tiny smirk form on his lips.
“They are supposed to be out of bed, you blithering idiot!” McGonagall tells him off. “Oh right, sorry.”
“Now, as you’re already here, I’d like you to lead the rest of Slytherin House from the Hall to the dungeons.” She adds on before Filch can leave.
Theodore’s thoughts returned, as they always did in the past months, to the one question that haunts the very corners of his mind: Where are you? In this whole happening, his eyes had been moving back and forth towards the group that stood near the large double doors. Trying to catch a glimpse of you in between the still figures. But as you had tortured him, you were still nowhere to be seen and he began to question if you had truly disappeared and left him questions unanswered.
As they were being ushered out of the Hall, he, like many others, was vacillating between insisting upon fighting for Hogwarts or to keep their loyalty to their Slytherin roots. But really, the prevailing choice for him is neither of those. He desperately wants to run towards Hermione and just ask her of your whereabouts.
But before he could approach a decision, Hermione made it for him. He jolts when a hand grasps his forearm, taking him by surprise.
“Nott.” Hermione begins before he cuts her off. “Where is she?”
It must’ve come off louder than he intended to from the way she jumped and the stares from the clutter of students from all directions. But he couldn’t care less, and it seemed that the girl in front of him had just now remembered when he didn't offer an apology.
“Well, it’s nice to see you’re not much different.” She sarcastically says. “Granger. Hermione. I frankly don’t have the time for this and I doubt that you do too, so I beg you to answer me now.”
Theodore’s impatience taking over him, he could not endure another moment without having you within his sight. It was a bit of an uncharacteristic burst of urgency for him and he knew it, but you were different. You, who holds all of his vulnerable entirety in your hands.
“She’s somewhere in the castle, searching for one of the remaining Horcruxes in the castle,” Hermione explains. “Y/N had suggested that we split and she began the search while we had to ward off Snape. We will be doing the same thing now, so if you have any idea of Ravenclaw’s lost diadem location, then that’s where you’ll find her.”
With a simple nod and a meek expression of gratitude, he runs off to a place where he begs must hold such a priceless object. It would be somewhere close by but nowhere that it can be easily found.
In the corner of his eyes, Theo caught a glimpse of Harry sprinting towards a distant hallway before rounding a corner. Knowing that by now he must have an idea of where it is, Theo makes a sprint for it. He cautiously peers around the hallway where he sees a door materialising in front of Harry.
Before he can approach Harry to accompany him inside the Room of Requirement, he sees the unmistakable form of his two friends, Draco and Blaise, along with Goyle, discreetly following Harry inside. He muttered frustrated curses under his breath, knowing that those three would make trouble.
He enters through the door, where he makes a dash along the stockpile of objects that seemingly never seems to lessen with every step he takes. A sigh of relief escaped his lips, but still a lingering tension persisted, as he saw Harry’s figure running.
“Potter!” He calls out to the boy, casting aside any lingering apprehension he once held for the boy. “Did you find it?”
Harry halts in his run, taking a moment to catch his breath before responding to Theo. In truth, he wasn’t surprised that Theo was here with him, but rather, more so that you weren’t the object of his first question to him.
“I think so, the sound keeps getting louder.” He answers.
“It should be somewhere near now.” He continues. “Let’s go then.”
Theo quietly takes his place beside Harry as they weave their way through the maze of ancient objects and furniture. They continue until Harry stops, causing Theo to freeze in his step.
There you stood, a presence that seemed to penetrate his very being. The only person who plagued his thoughts, you had woven yourself into every conscious moment and every corner of his mind.
Now that you were a mere five steps away from him, he couldn’t conjure the nerve to move forward, feeling himself paralyzed.
Was it the fear that held him back? The nagging thought that this might be just another dream of his? He couldn’t grapple at an answer, but by the length of your hair that now sits at your shoulders, he would like to believe that maybe this was indeed you. This was you, and before he realised it, he was all but standing still.
A sharp gasp escapes your lips as you nearly lose your footing, feeling a heavy weight press to your back. The sensation of those familiar long arms enveloping you in a tight embrace sent your heart racing, the shock of it sending a rush of emotions through you.
For a fleeting moment, it felt that your body had become one with the ground, immobilised by the torrent of emotions surging through you. But then when the realisation finally sinks into you, the tension that seemed to course through you suddenly dissolves and you willingly surrender yourself to the warmth of his embrace.
You turn, your hands tracing a graceful path across his back. It had been far too long, and you couldn’t imagine being apart from him for such an extended period ever again.
The background fades into obscurity. Harry was forgotten, a distant blur that moved with the others. Your eyes filled with relief and that soft, affectionate expression that he adored. All he could see was you, the person he had yearned for and feared losing in the world you both live in.
Theo’s defences crumbled, and he finally surrendered to the weight of his emotions. He couldn’t find a part of him that would care if others saw him right now. Tears flowed freely down his flushed cheeks, like a torrential downpour.
“I’m here. Theo, I’m back with you.” Your arms held him, gently rocking him as you tried to soothe his nerves.
“Never leave me alone again.” He choked on the words, his voice raw and rugged with pain. “I beg you.”
“I won’t be going anywhere, I promise. I’m sorry for having to leave so suddenly.” You whispered, your voice filled with genuine remorse. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of movement behind some cabinets— a flash of white.
“But we’ll have to talk later.” You continued, turning your focus back to Theo. “We need to get rid of this Horcrux.”
“Horcrux?” He asks, pulling back from the crook of your neck. “Hermione mentioned that when I asked about you.”
“It’s one of the many things that Voldemort has done to ensure his immortality.” You explained, your tone carrying a sense of urgency. “But if we get rid of it, we’re one step closer to finally banishing him for good.”
He opens his mouth to say something but before he can, he is interrupted by Draco, with Blaise and Goyle, stepping into view. “Well, well, what brings you here, Potter? And Theo, what are you doing with them?”
Your gaze shifts back at Harry who had only realised that you had some other company. “I could ask you the same.” You retort.
Theo, however, pays his friend no mind. Instead, he leans to your ear, his voice a hushed whisper. “We should get that thing while Draco is still preoccupied with Harry.”
You could make a run for it; it seemed that Draco didn’t care for your purpose inside the room. Rather busy demanding your friend for his wand back, the very one you had accidentally brought back with you from the Malfoy Manor.
“- its allegiance is to me now. If you want it, you’ll have to win it back. Perhaps even kill me…” You hear Harry proclaim. You silently curse your friend for his recklessness, tired of his cavalier attitude with his life simply because he’s braved the risk of death before. You kept your eyes trained on Draco, knowing that despite his hesitation before, he might act on it now.
His wand hand twitches.
Brow conflicted.
Uneasy eyes settling somewhere behind you. You look behind to see a silhouette of a girl with a wand pointed in your direction, before you can see who it is, a ball of scarlet light emerges and briefly lights up her face and hits Draco’s hand.
“Avada Kedavra!” You were pulled back by Theo, landing on the ground with his body catching the fall. You watch as the spell ricochets and sends the diadem, which was sitting peacefully in its encasement on the table, flying away.
You spring to your feet, a burst of adrenaline propelling you forward to catch the item before it vanishes on you in this labyrinth. Your hand barely grazed the edge of the jewelled headband and with a quick nod to Harry and Hermione a nod to escape this room. Meanwhile, you’re confused as to where Ron had disappeared off to.
The red-head gives you your answer when he comes running from somewhere followed by a twisting serpent made of scarlet flames. “Run! Goyle’s set the bloody place on fire!”
With your right hand clutching the crown, you secure a firm grip on Theo’s hand, which rests lightly on your waist. The five of you dash through the towering heaps of debris that would likely be a pile of smouldering ashes and soot. A quick glance behind you reveals flames that draw closer, mutating into different forms: serpents, dragons, and the like, each following you so closely that sweat beads form on the nape of your neck.
“Keep running!” Harry shouts when Hermione sees Draco scaling a mountain of furniture. You were still running for your life when suddenly Harry spots a stack of broomsticks. TO which you all took one and began to speed across the room.
The flames explode behind you, You and Theo, who decided to share, barely elude the snap of its jaw.
“Wait! What about Malfoy and Blaise!” Harry screams at the rest of you, your head turns to look back at the two who are barely hanging on as the flames continue to destroy the room. It was only a matter of time before it reached them and they would have nowhere to go.
“You grab them!” Theo replied, his voice scratchy and painful from the amount of smoke you’ve inhaled.
“Are you serious? He’s joking right?” Ron asks Hermione, to which you instead reply. “No, he’s not! Go get them!”
Harry and Ron sweeps down, swiftly reaching out to grasp Draco and Blaise’s outstretched hands. While you, Theo, and Hermione went ahead as a giant beam of light appeared in the distance, a radiating beacon. It’s Hermione, hovering on her broom with her wand raised.
Then, with Harry and Ron in tow, you all fly headlong towards Hermione’s beacon. And in an instant, your sight dissolved into a blinding whiteness.
Your eyes flutter open, your senses returning to you in a hazy rush. You felt someone shaking you furiously, and in your disoriented state, you instinctively pushed them away. But arms instead wrapped around you and pulled you into a warm chest.
“You’re fine!” The person evidently shakes in relief, before you feel a gentle bush of lips against your temple.
Blinking away the remnants of confusion, you look up to see Theo’s striking blue eyes already intently focused on you., striking a shiver across your spine “You couldn’t get rid of me that easily.” You joked weakly, a tiny smile on your face.
Theo’s expression softened, and he tightened his hold on you as if he was afraid that you might disappear again. “I thought I lost you there,” He tells you, voice barely above a whisper. “When I saw you just lying there, unmoving… I was utterly terrified.”
You reach up and gently cup his cheek, wiping away the dark ash that sullied it with your thumb. “Like I said, love, I’m not going anywhere,” Your voice filled with reassurance, and you sit properly to kiss him softly, sealing your promise in that tender moment.
But as with everything else, it was interrupted by an awkward cough behind you.
“You guys done there? We still have some things to do?” Ron retorts. To which Hermione slaps him in the chest.
You laugh and hum in tease. “Well, actually I think we could do with some more snogging here.” Ron merely groans. “No, please. I don’t wanna see that.”
The both of you stand from where you sit, your hands still entwined, hearts racing. “Where’s Draco and Blaise, by the way?” You ask Theo. “They ran off somewhere.”
As they all stepped out of the corridor, they caught you up on what happened while you were unconscious. Harry had stabbed the diadem with a basilisk fang which Ron and Hermione retrieved from the Chamber and threw it back towards the Room of Requirement where it blew up into flames.
You look at Harry who was staring into the distance, his face still bearing the trace of the agony he must’ve endured when he stabbed the diadem.
“It’s the snake. She’s the last one. The last Horcrux.” Harry speaks up.
“Where do you think he’ll take it?” Theo asks from beside you. “Somewhere safe. He’ll be keeping her close to him.”
“You should go ahead, Theo and I will stay here to help with the others.” You tell your friends, while Harry tries to locate Voldemort with his mind.
“I know where he is.” He finally comes back. “Let’s go.”
“The three of you keep safe alright?” You remind them as you all run towards the battlefield, where many of your friends stand fighting. They nod, promising you that they will and in return make you and Theo swear you’ll be careful.
In the courtyard, where students and staff trade spells with the Death Eaters that littered across the school grounds, you quickly join them, making sure that you are in sight of the other. The unspoken promise to do so served as a beacon of comfort amidst the chaos you were faced with.
From the upper balcony, your eyes scanned the battlefield, assessing the danger that lurked when you saw a Death Eater poised to send a curse to Luna from behind. Without a second thought, you unleashed a forceful flick of your wand, sending a powerful spell toward the Death Eater which sent him tumbling through the air and straight to the waters beyond the castle.
Luna, whose signature dream-like demeanour was replaced by an expression of gratitude, turns and locks eyes with you. She offered you one of her wide smiles, “Thanks! Y/n, glad to see you back here!”
Your heart swelled with warmth for your friend. “Don’t mention it, happy to see you also, Luna.” You quickly reply before returning to battle when you are hit by a deafening blast straight on the chest. You were raised to the air before you crashed into the floor below.
Theodore Nott fought valiantly in the courtyard, proving to the others that the dark mark that covered his right arm bore no significance to the man. His wand moved in a blur of motion in the onslaught of Death Eater. His thoughts were empty save for the ever-present worry that plagued him for your safety.
From his vantage point on the ground level, he does a quick scan of the courtyard, his heart pounding in his chest. The grisly sight of students and friends, along with the staff all stood their ground against the dark forces that dared penetrate their home. It filled him with a mixture of pride and fear.
And then, his eyes flicked onto a scene that made his heart skip a beat. From the upper balcony, he sees you with your wand in hand and your expression resolute as you defend Luna, a dear friend of yours. It filled him with a warm emotion at the sight of your strong determination to protect her.
But then in a blink of an eye, disaster struck. A blast struck you square in the chest, lifting you off your feet in shock and sending you crashing down. Theo’s heart which skipped a beat earlier had now wholly stopped, his blood turning to ice as he watched in horror.
With everything in him, he surges forward through the chaos to catch you before you fall down. But as he was still many steps away from you, you dropped full force into the stone ground. Panic fueled his every step as he ran towards your motionless form now with even more speed than he ever thought a human possibly could.
He feels his gut twinge at the bloody sight, a sickly feeling developing in the deep recesses of his body, the wand heavy in his hands then. His lips bore no sound as tried to call your name, his heart was twisted in his throat.
He knelt beside you, pulling you into his lap and checking you for your injuries. To his relief, your breathing was still steady for what had just happened to you and you didn’t seem to take any damage to the head, Still, he carried your disoriented body in his arms bridal style.
As he began to stand, his eyes went back to where you had previously been, searching for the source of the blast that struck you down. And then, with a shock that sent chills down his spine, he sees a familiar old face.
His father.
He sets you down somewhere safe inside the castle, without taking his sight away from his father. By the time he returns back to where you both were, his father is now advancing towards him with a sinister, triumphant grin on his face. It was a face that had been both a source of fear and disappointment throughout his life.
The face that caused his mother’s death.
“Father,” Theodore muttered, his voice laced with a blend of anger, disbelief, and a profound sense of betrayal. That despite all he’s done for him, his father still stood there with not an ounce of recognition that he was faced with his son. It was as if he had truly sunk to the depths of his loyalty to Voldemort and there was no other obligation for him except for his unwavering loyalty.
Their eyes were locked in a moment of tense, silent confrontation. He knew that this battle was only physical but also a battle of his loyalties. He had to protect you, he had to stand against his father, and he had to make a choice that would define the course of his life.
With the courtyard around them paying no specific attention to the father and son, it was only fair to say that everything else faded into the background for them too. Father and son. Standing on opposing sides, driven by their own convictions and beliefs, the younger no longer waited.
He was no, father, not in the true sense of the word. He was merely a shadow of a man, a heartless figure who stood there—grinning as if he had just claimed the grand prize in this twisted lottery.
In that moment, he had not only attacked the one person who held his son’s heart after he took away the other one but he had also torn away the last remaining fragments of the bond that tied the two of them.
His father had no time to react when Theodore raised his wand in a swift manner, hurling him violently to the cold, unforgiving wall across the castle. He rained down curses after cruses upon his father’s assailable body, each blow driven by a potent combination of anger and a fierce desire to defend.
“Stay” He seethed, punctuating his rage with a curse. “Away” Another spell. “From” The onslaught of his attack never ceased despite the dawn that slowly began to fade into view. “Her!” Each word carried the weight of an entire lifetime’s amount of hurt as Theo relentlessly battered his father until he was left into nothing but a fraction of what he used to be.
His eyes are glazed and unfocused as he continues this torture until he comes to a grip on reality when strong arms pull him away. It takes him a moment to realise that the battle has ceased.
The two people behind him dragged him away, from his father's still body. But still, his eyes remained locked onto him, unable to shift it away. The cold fire in him terrified the others that they had passed. They whispered that nothing could compare to the kind of fury and destruction that he was sure to rain upon his enemies.
“Wake up, Y/N. Please.” Theo’s voice quivered, his words trembling on the precipice of his emotions. His eyes, blurred by the veil of his tears, bore a weight drastically different than it did only hours ago.
Eyes that failed to veil the inner turmoil that plagued him. The entire battle against Voldemort had taken its toll on both of them, leaving them stranded from each other for nearly half a year, but seeing you this way…
He watched from a chair beside you as the healers worked diligently, silently begging them to look at you again, despite numerous assurances that you are now stable. His fingers unconsciously flexed at his sides, a manifestation of the anxiety that controls him.
The fear of losing you, the anger towards his father, the overwhelming relief that you are alive– it all left him in a state of disconcerting.
As he waits for you to wake, he couldn’t help but reminisce on all that the both of you had been through. The trials, the secrets, the moments of love and laughter everywhere and anywhere. You were not just some person he loved; you were his best friend, his reason.
His eyes welled up with tears, and he wiped them away hastily. He needs to be strong for both of you, just as you will in your state of unconsciousness. He knew that your love had emerged stronger than ever in this crucible of war. So he made a silent promise to himself that he would do whatever it takes to take you away from any danger that dares creep upon you.
Finally, as if an eternity had passed, your voice broke through the silence. He jumps up in shock at the sound. You had slowly begun to stir in your makeshift bed in the Great Hall, your eyelids fluttering as you emerged from the depths of unconsciousness. The world felt hazy at first. But as your senses gradually returned, you became aware of the hustle and bustle of the people around you and you tried to call attention.
Theo sees that you were trying to say something but from the scratchy tone that instead came out, you were in need of some water so he ran to the nearest jug he found and helped you sit up so you could properly drink.
Then, as your vision cleared, you saw Theo sitting by your bedside and that he was the one that quenched the dryness that lined your throat., his eyes locked onto hers with a mixture of relief and worry.
His face broke into a gentle smile as he saw you recognize him. “Y/N” He whispered, his voice cracking as he began to cry once more. “You’re awake, you’re back. Thank Merlin!”
You manage a weak smile in return, your throat still dry and your body aching from the attack on you. You tried to speak, but your voice came out raspy. “Theo.”
Theo reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from the side of your face, his touch gentle as ever. “You’re going to be okay.” He says, but it was more like he was also trying to convince himself. “You had me worried there for a while. I am this close to tying you up in a chair because you have caused me nothing but stress lately.”
As the both of you lay on the bed after you guilted him into laying beside you, your memories of the battle and the moments leading up to your injury slowly came back. You remembered Luna, the chaos, and the deafening blast that nearly took you away. But most of all, you remember the face of the person who did this to you.
Tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out to hold his hand, your fingers entwined in a silent, unspoken connection. “You must have been like a hero back there, then?” You gently try to ask him.
“More like a monster.” He mutters, unable to bring his eyes to you. The truth is he felt horrible after he finally calmed down. He was disgusted with himself and how he acted. He let his rage take control and acted like a monster. “What do you mean?”
“I was just like him, leaving him unable to fight back like he did to Mom and I back then. I just fired curses and curses at him. It was like a veil had draped over me and all I wanted was to protect you and destroy anything and anyone that dared harm you. ”
You call his name. But he doesn’t respond and continues to stare off into the distance with a glazed-over expression. You reach out to cup his cheeks to pull his gaze towards you. “Theodore, look at me.”
He hums, now staring at you but still he can’t hide the tumultuous emotions that were a storm inside him. “You are not like your father, Theo.” You said softly. “Just from what you told me, you are a gazillion ways different from him. You didn’t cower behind the fear he caused you. Instead, you faced him head on, and defended not only me but also your mother from his cruelty.”
Theo looks at you, his eyes searching yours for affirmation. “How?” He meekly asks.
“You took away the power that he boasts to have over you. '' You replied. Tone unwavering. “You showed him that you will never, ever, become anything like he is."
Your words hung in the air, a testament to Theo’s strength. At that moment, he realised that he had broken free from the shadows of his father’s influence and that he had chosen a different path. A path that is defined by love, courage, and a refusal to be controlled by his fear.
“I’m here because of you. I strived each day so that I could go back to you.” You whispered, your gaze never leaving Theo’s. “And I'm not going anywhere.”
Theo’s eyes shimmered with tears as he leaned in to gently kiss your forehead. “I love you.” He murmured, “I am in love with you, physically, rhetorically, every -ly.”
You laugh at his cheekiness, “I love you too.” You close your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to drown in the wave of his love that washed over you. Giving his hands a squeeze as you raise them to lay a kiss upon the back of his hand.
In that Great Hall, amidst the scars of battle and the uncertainty of the future, they had found something precious in the very same place where two 11-year-old kids once locked eyes and found a connection.
masterlist
#harry potter#theodore nott#theo nott#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott x y/n#theodore nott x you#theodore nott fluff#theodore nott angst#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott fanfic#theodore nott fanfiction#slytherin#theodore nott oneshot
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five minutes | c.sc
- he has never seen such a picturesque sight draped in morning light
oneshot | 1.3k | domestic!au | fluff
if choi seungcheol could choose one memory to keep after death, it would be the ones like this. the ones where he rises slightly early and gets to watch as you wake up to the world. for him it’s the little things: sunshine falling atop his sheets, your limbs intertwined, the pout in your voice begging him to come back to bed. though seungcheol knows for a fact, he would always hit snooze if it meant five more minutes with you.
~ pairing . choi seungcheol x gn!reader
~ content . non idol!au, early mornings with choi seungcheol, oddly sentimental moments lmaoo, fluffiest of domestic fluff, brief banter
~ tw/cw . one slightly suggestive allusion to hickeys but apart from that none at all!
~ song rec . come to me - seventeen
~ author’s note . here’s the surprise i was talking about! apologies for being so inactive, life just had to take priority for once. but i had some free time so i wrote this as a little writing exercise. also i just imagine seungcheol to be the best to wake up to lmaoo. sorry for once again proving i don’t know how to write anything that isn’t pure unfiltered yearning 😭 hope you guys enjoy anyways!
FOR ONCE, IT IS NOT THE DRONING SOUND OF AN ALARM THAT WAKES HIM
but instead the light of the morning - rousing him with its golden-honey rays. Slithers of sunlight burn against his droopy eyelids and he curses himself for forgetting to close his curtains in the evening. He wonders what the time is. With the advent of summer, guessing the time has been harder than a blinded game of Russian roulette. It could be anywhere between 5:30 (he could afford to sleep for a couple more hours) or 11:25 (he might as well not bother showing up to work).
Seungcheol rolls onto his back and cradles his skull with his palm. He drifts his eyes up towards the cream-coloured ceiling, feeling an inexplicable lightness in his chest as it rises with his every breath: ocean waves at high tide. Even though the future stresses of the working day loom at the forefront of his mind, they aren’t tormenting him like they usually do. He isn’t dreading the ring of the alarm. There’s something in his mind and soul that’s scarily at peace, a calmness he only thought he would feel in his dying hours. A sharp snore cuts his train of thought short. Feeling the warmth pressing taut against his side, he realises what the feather-weight feeling in his chest was for.
He flips over to look at you, out like a candlelight. Seungcheol swears he has never seen such a picturesque sight draped in morning light. No painting in a museum could ever come close to this sight of you. Your legs are curled into your torso and hands loosely gripping the sheets. Seungcheol’s eyes are drawn immediately towards your lips, your pillow-soft sighs drift onto the pillow where a tiny pool of salvia is. A thin sheen of sweat, illuminated by golden rays, wraps around your body like a second skin, causing you to glisten like the sun during dawnbreak.
In this moment, you are so peaceful, so calm, so vulnerable. You’re like a god to him, a statue chiselled painstakingly out of marble. Seungcheol has to hold himself back from caressing your puffy cheeks, terrified he’d wake you. You’ve been working long hours recently and today’s your only day of rest. Apart from that, something about watching you catch up on some well-deserved rest burns his heart white-hot with passion.
‘I must have been a saint in my last life to deserve this,’ Seungcheol thinks. As clearly and effortlessly as the chime of a bell of a small bookstore, you entered his life, taking him by surprise. You were like a whirlwind and Seungcheol was enraptured in the eye of your storm. Each day he was falling deeper and deeper, closer and closer to the point of no return. The way your smile and sense of humour makes him float above the clouds, almost as if is high on your presence. If he is, then you’re his favourite drug, that itch that you can never scratch enough, that song that no matter what he does cannot get out of his head.
He thinks about how much he loves you. How much he longs for you when you are not near - how much he wants to worship you until marks, the same colour as pink lemonade, pepper your chest. It almost brings him to tears: the intensity of his feelings in contrast to the softness of the morning light. You’re the most beautiful person to him - mind, body and soul.
Right now, Seungcheol feels content, not in the way you do when finishing a task or lying down with a stomach full of your favourite food. This is different. A contentedness he knows he may never be able to feel again, but the moment is so perfect that he doesn’t need to feel this way again. This morning is already more than enough.
RING-RING
Seungcheol rolls his eyes as the sound of his alarm vibrates deep through his ears. He checks the time. Fuck. He only has 35 minutes to get ready (he could have sworn he set it for earlier). He tries his best to move cautiously, trying not to wake you. But as he sees your body start to shift, he knows his attempts are in vain.
“Sorry sleepyhead,” Seungcheol coos his voice so sweet that it almost fully distracts you from the alarm's monotonous cries. You reply with a quiet 'morning' but you’re not sure if he hears: the sound being muffled by the sheets. He traces mindless patterns across your exposed skin. His fingertips leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You squirm slightly at the ticklish feeling, trying to curl away from his touch. Seungcheol can only laugh.
“What?” He knows he’s teasing, the grin on his face ever-wide.
“Shut up…” You turn your body to face him as he sits up, a yawn escaping from the depths of his chest. “How long have you been awake for?”
“A while.” He stretches over your body to hit snooze and you hear the light crackling of his bones as he moves.
“So you’ve just been watching me drool in my sleep this entire time, weirdo.” You say mimicking his previous teasing tone. Seungcheol rolls his eyes but still helps you rub off a small string of dried salvia sitting on the corner of your lip.
“Maybe, maybe not. Though, you are a wonderful sight to behold in the morning.”
“You’re mad.”
“Madly in love with you.” You snort at his words and playfully smack his bare chest as whiny ‘it’s true’s' fall from his pink coral lips. He smiles so wide, that you catch a glimpse of it through the blinding sunlight - a look at his sweet gummy smile. So wide that you can’t help but smile as well.
If Seungcheol were to describe his personality in one word, it would be a realist, maybe a cynic at times. But when it comes to you, he’s a dreamer. You’re the painter who colours over his grey corporate days, the person that keeps him going when his 9–5 starts to feel like a 24-hour shift and it’s your smile he thinks of at the neon red stoplight when he’s racing back home (he hopes you feel the same). He realises that he would do anything for you and it doesn’t anger him in the slightest.
“After you’re off from work, we should do something. Take advantage of the good weather and longer days.” You muse, still looking up at him. With the way tiredness pulls at your eyes you resemble a baby deer. Seungcheol doesn’t even let you finish your sentence before he’s humming in agreement.
“That would be lovely. Hmm, a walk around the city seems nice, there’s this pop-up museum that I think you’d like. We could also-“
RING-RING
You both groan at the cursed sound. Reluctantly, Seungcheol attempts to rub whatever remnants of sleep are left in his eyes (it doesn’t work, he feels more tired afterwards). With a chaste kiss on your forehead, he tries to free himself from the hold of the duvet and many blankets intertwined with his limbs. If he eats breakfast quickly, he may be able to get to work on time. However, as his legs hang over the side of the bed, Seungcheol feels a vice-like grip tighten around his wrist.
“Don’t go.” Your voice sounds so tired yet commanding, as if you were a witch, forcing him into a trance.
“But lovely, work-“
“If you can shower quickly, you can spare five more minutes with me.” You whine. To Seungcheol, there is no point trying to fight it, you’ve already won.
“I suppose I could."
The light giggle that escapes your mouth seals the deal as you drag him back down to drown in the sheets. He throws an arm around your middle and pulls you impossibly closer. Seungcheol knows his alarm is going to go off again in the next five minutes, but as you melt into his embrace like candle wax and press kisses along the base of his neck, he couldn’t care less about hitting snooze again.
For you, he could spare five more minutes.
For you, he would do anything.
#seventeen oneshot#seventeen fanfic#seventeen x reader#seventeen fluff#seventeen imagines#seventeen drabble#svt oneshot#svt fluff#svt x reader#svt imagines#svt fanfic#scoups oneshot#scoups fluff#scoups fanfic#scoups drabble#scoups x reader#seungcheol x reader#seungcheol fluff#seungcheol fanfic#seungcheol drabble#if ur reading this i hopr u have an amazing day/night 💛
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in moments | spencer reid x reader
a/n: little thing i wrote today maybe intended for longer series, not super edited (sorry hehe). trying to get back into the habit of writing with this new side blog. send me any requests if you'd like <3
wc: 1.9k
warnings: fem reader, use of she/her pronouns (reader), shy!reader, early seasons shy spencer, just pure fluff (for now)
There wasn’t a shadow of a doubt in anyone’s mind that the BAU changed when you and Spencer seemingly arrived at their doorstep out of nowhere – both of you young and bright-eyed, but an undeniable force together, a wealth of intelligence. But sometimes – especially in moments like this – the team wondered how either of you managed to function in society up until now. Everyone is watching curiously, trying and failing to hide their amused smiles behind their coffee cups.
You’re nervous. They see it in the way you fiddle with the hem of your sweater behind your back, the way you squeak out your words like you’re afraid of them. If anxiety were personified, it’d look incredibly reminiscent of you. Spencer isn’t any better. From the base of his neck to the tips of his ears, every inch of exposed skin is visibly tinted with a cherry-red hue, and his eyes continue to fixate on everything, everywhere except your face.
“How are they even getting anything done right now? They look like they’re both about to throw up,” Emily mutters.
Morgan nods, “My money is on both of them having nervous breakdowns in the next ten minutes.”
Penelope tries her very best to swallow her laugh, but her efforts prove to be futile as a giggle manages to escape from her lips anyway. She quickly coughs and covers her mouth with her fingertips in an attempt to stifle it, but to no avail. Both you and Spencer hear it and glance over with adorably similar facial expressions, brows tightly knitted together and a hint of a pout gracing your lips.
When you’re only met with silence, you tilt your head questioningly.
“What?”
“Nothing, nothing! How is it going over there? Did you guys find anything?”
“Yeah, actually. Spencer thinks that the Unsub’s location can be narrowed down to these specific neighborhoods given the pattern of…” As you turn to look at Spencer, you realize you’ve made the greatest mistake in your life. It’s as if every possible nerve ending you have in your body surges with electrical current, and you swear you can feel your heart pumping from the middle of your throat. His eyes meet yours, and he’s closer to you than you remember. Was he here the whole time? You have the sudden urge to crawl under the desk and stay there for as long as you can get away with it.
Do his lips always look like this? Has his hair grown out since yesterday? Is he furrowing his brows?
You realize that you haven’t spoken in what must be at least thirty seconds. Spencer would know how long. You feel even worse.
“Given the patterns in where the victims were found.” you finish quietly.
Spencer swivels his chair to face the team and continues with his explanation, but you can barely hear him as all of your thoughts focus on the fact that his leg is now pressed up against yours. You’ve come to the natural conclusion that your brain is no longer functional anymore, your career is over. Maybe if you beg on your knees, Hotch will let you take a sick day?
“Alright, let’s send smaller teams out and cover all possible locations, see what we can find,” Hotch announces from behind you. As he begins assigning pairs, you breathe out a sigh of relief. Now, you’ll have at least a few hours before you have to face Spencer again, and hopefully, by that point, all of the residual awkwardness of your stumble will be completely obliterated from everyone’s memory.
“And (Y/N) and Reid, you’ll take the last of the locations. Let’s debrief here once we’re done.”
As you stare at Hotch in disbelief, you swear there’s a very, very faint hint of a smile on his face.
You’re going to kill him.
~*~*~
Spencer reads through the case file for the millionth time since getting in the car with you. There’s really no point to it; you and everyone else knows he has an eidetic memory, he only had to read it once. If you asked, he’d lie and tell you he does it to pass the time or to just fill the silence with the sound of pages turning. But he thinks he really does it so that he doesn’t have to hear himself stumble over his words trying to talk to you.
It’s torture, being around you. You’re pretty and smart and nice and so wonderful, and if he thinks about it for too long, it hurts his head. Spencer wants to be around you all of the time and simultaneously none of the time – it’s an unsolvable equation, and he hates it. It’s torturous.
Even so, he knows his best days are always spent with you.
Most of your shared time is inevitably spent dissecting the neverending influx of cases received by the BAU. But every once in a while, there are times scattered between the chaos. Sometimes it’s the early mornings before anyone else has arrived, and the both of you drink your coffees together in comfortable silence. Sometimes it’s the late nights spent sitting at your desks across from each other with hot takeout and tired eyes. In these moments, both of you can talk about the books you’ve been reading recently, the best classical music composers, or your favorite episodes of Doctor Who, without any hesitation or uncertainty. Perhaps the delirium of sleep deprivation gives you courage, or maybe it’s just that both of you feel safer in the quiet, when the world feels a lot less overwhelming and all of your focus can be devoted to one another. Regardless, it’s what Spencer looks forward to the most, above all else.
So, he tries.
He clears his throat, “D-Did you know that Carlo Lorenzini, the guy that wrote Pinocchio, was said to be obsessed with the human nose?”
“Really? Huh… I wonder what the origin of the obsession was, y’know where it came from.”
And for just an instant, the anxiety has subsided, quickly replaced by a much stronger, fluttering from the depths of his stomach.
“Not sure, but sources say that he frequently wrote about noses in his earlier stories, so whatever the cause was must’ve been prior to the 1880s, when Pinocchio was published.”
You hum in acknowledgement, “Have you heard about the Pinocchio Paradox before?”
“The one created by Peter Eldridge-Smith’s daughter?”
“Yeah, I think her name was Veronique. What do you think of the possible solutions?”
While he thinks of an answer to your question, he also thinks about how seamlessly you manage to fit into the fragments of his mind. He’s never felt more seen than when you glance over at him, when you think he can’t see you. You’re perfect in a way that feels whole and complete to him, as if there’s nothing else he could ever want or need. He thinks about all of this, and much, much more.
~*~*~
“Do you want a cup of coffee?” Spencer asks. He begins to rise from his seat, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
“Y-Yeah, sure. I’ll come with you though, I think I need a break anyway.”
It’s late, everyone else has gone home. All of the fluorescent, overhead lights in the bullpen are off, both of you opting to turn on a few of the surrounding desk lamps instead.
You don’t particularly like the dark, especially when it’s this late into the night. The walk to the kitchen feels a lot longer this way, your path being guided only by the residual light coming from the streetlights outside.
There’s a sudden crash to your left, and you yelp, jumping towards Spencer.
“Sorry! Sorry, that was me. I accidentally kicked a box of files I guess someone left on the floor, it knocked into one of the desks.”
“No worries! It’s okay. I’m just,” you sigh, “I’m just a little bit afraid of the dark.”
As your adrenaline levels steadily return to baseline, you’re suddenly hyper aware of how your entire body is quite literally pressed up against Spencer’s side, your hands gripping onto his forearm for dear life. But just as you start to loosen your death grip, you feel Spencer’s fingers searching for you in the dim moonlight.
Every thought you’ve ever had, every bit of information you’ve ever learned escapes you in a single breath as he intertwines your fingers with his.
His voice is just barely above a whisper, “I’m a little bit afraid of the dark too.”
Both of you walk the rest of the way to the kitchen in complete silence and at an incredibly slow pace, as if even the sound of your soles against the linoleum floors would ruin this moment. You almost want to keep the abrasive lights of the kitchen off as you finally walk through the doorway with Spencer in tow; you know that the very second you flip the switch, you’ll have to let go of his hand. It’s not realistic for him to keep holding your hand, you chastise yourself. How would he even make his coffee if you’re holding his hand hostage?
You turn the light on. The alternative would be standing in the dark and you couldn’t think of a reasonable excuse for doing so quickly enough.
A beat passes, your eyes adjust to the sudden change in brightness. You look down, and to your surprise, Spencer’s still holding onto your hand. Worse, he’s rubbing slow circles into the back of your hand with his thumb. I will never recover from this, you think.
“D-Do you still want coffee?”
“No, not really,” you respond. With how your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest, you really don’t think it’d be a good idea for you to consume any more caffeine.
“Me neither,” he trails off. His eyes are glued to the floor as if he’s afraid to meet your gaze, as if it’ll make you realize with sudden clarity that it’s his hand you’re holding and you’ll pull away.
“As you become drowsier, adenosine accumulates in the neuronal synapse and binds to the respective receptors located in the synapse of specific central nervous systems neurons causing further drowsiness,” you ramble.
“And caffeine is an adenosine receptor antagonist.”
“Exactly, and knockout mice studies reveal that it’s specifically the adenosine A2A receptor which is a member of the G-protein coupled receptor family.”
“Interesting. Even though you only have one PhD, having it in biology seems to be proving pretty useful,” he smiles.
“Yeah. I mean, it’s gotten me this far, wait what do you mean only one?”
“Dr. (Y/L/N), you realize I have three, right?”
“Dr. Reid, please shut up.”
You make him feel safe.
“Okay, sorry,” he giggles, “Can you please tell me more about caffeine?”
And because he asked so nicely, because he smiles at you the way he does, you tell him more. It’s nearly the middle of the night, but you’d still stay up and you would tell him everything you know, as long as he continued looking at you with his soft, brown eyes.
You both talk about everything and anything either of you think of, all while holding each other in the palm of your hands.
The next morning, he sits even closer to you. Luckily, it’s slowly getting easier to talk to him without losing the ability to form coherent thoughts, but it’s still hard sometimes. You still get nervous when he looks at you. You can still feel the butterflies flapping against the walls of your stomach, especially when he holds your hand underneath the desk.
Both of you think you’re being subtle, but everyone notices. They pretend they don’t.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fic#criminal minds imagine#bau team
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Escarmiento: Part Two- Miguel O’hara x fem!spider reader
a/n- i have no clue how his fangs or venom work, but just pretend like how i wrote it makes sense. also, this is very long but i didn’t want to write three parts :^
warnings- smut, predator/prey dynamics, spanking, edging, degradation, explicit language, size kink, biting, paralytic venom, mean/rough sex, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, creampie, aftercare, soft miggy after he realizes he was an ass
translations at the bottom!
—————————————————————————
Colors flashed in your peripheral as you darted alongside Miles, your arms burning from the amount of swings you had to pull off, just to get some distance between the hundreds of people around you.
Sure, running may not have been the smartest thing to do, but, you did have a plan. It wasn’t the easiest to pull off, and you’d probably end up being berated by Miguel, but Miles was your priority, and your husband was usually a sane man when it came to you. Usually.
As if he wanted to prove your logic wrong, Miguel’s yells rang from behind you, his voice laced with pure anger as you slipped from his grasp a multitude of times. You were both very fast, but he was a monster. It was like trying to escape death, his claws almost catching your suit, the image of his fangs gleaming in your memories.
“Miles!” you yelled to the boy swinging a few feet ahead of you, his body stalling for you to sync with his movements. “We’ll draw them out-” you panted, your surroundings becoming familiar, recognizable to the entrance of headquarters, “-and when they’re gone, get to the machine, and go home.”
Web after web shot at you, red and blue of all kinds clouding your vision as you maneuvered around gloved hands and swinging limbs. “Y/n,” that familiar voice shouted again, trying to pull your attention away from the obstacles in front of you. “Stop running-” you heard Miguel growl under his breath, the ear splitting sound of shredding steel hitting your senses as he literally tore through walls to get to you.
He had never ever scared you before, but with his feral strength directed at you instead of a casual villain, true fear coaxed its way through your veins. You were his prey. That’s the thought that repeatedly flashed in your mind. He was hunting you and there was inevitably, no escape.
Flicking your wrist, your webbing shot to the upper beams above the training area, pulling you through the air, a panicking Miles right at your side. That particular choice was probably not the best decision, a horde of waiting spider people coming into sight as soon as you appeared through the floor.
Interrupting the frozen crowd, two glowing webs broke through the air to pull a very rage filled Miguel up after you, your feet stepping back to scurry in the opposite direction towards the glistening wall of windows. You could feel him right at your heels, his breathing ragged, a whoosh of air hitting your back, the only explanation being his claws trying to swipe at you.
Dropping into a perch-like position, you ducked a particularly harsh swing, Miguel’s body already moving too fast to stop, his large form smashing through a lower window. Miles went right along with him, leaving you to a room of people just itching to please their boss. That was until your foot was pulled from under you, a familiar web wrapped around your ankle pulling your body to the floor and out the shattered window.
You’d never gotten used to free falling, your stomach wound in knots as the air whipped past you, your wrist helplessly flailing to find some kind of structure to attach to. The web stuck to your ankle was tugged, harshly, pulling you down towards none other than your husband.
Miles was lone gone, his own fleet of spiders chasing him down, leaving you to fend for yourself. Shooting your web to a passing car, your body was caught between two forces, Miguel watching as you cried out in pain, a frustrated groan leaving his lips as he cut his web loose, letting you go. You knew that’d make him buckle, see, he didn’t want to hurt you, no, he just wanted to catch you.
Slinging to the flying car, you were glued to the roof, eyes peeled to search for Miles, your sense lighting up at the sound of Miguel hurling himself from car to car to get to you. A yelp left your lips as two sets of web-patterned arms wrapped around you, one set grabbing your legs to pin you, the other holding your midriff, squeezing all the air from your lungs. Your legs helplessly kicked against them, body bucking in their hold to get away until a rough yell resounded. “Leave her,” Miguel shouted, his fangs extending, eyes tracking their hold on you. “Ella es mía.”
Squirming out of their grasp, you swung to the train-like contraption holding the roadway, Miguel’s suit in your peripheral, his form hurtling towards you, leaving no room to escape. You landed first, crawling along the top of the silver train, Miguel’s claws scratching behind, tearing the metal in their wake.
“Miguel, please-” you panted, your eyes wide as they looked down at him, his mask dissolving to reveal crimson eyes and furrowed eyebrows set on you. “He’s just a kid,” you pleaded, your muscles aching with exhaustion as you climbed away from him. A growl left the lips of your lover, his unbeaten endurance still strong, claws pulling him right towards you and your struggling form.
His hand closed around your ankle, pulling you down until his arms caged you, your back was pressed to his broad chest, hands pinned down by his own, preventing you from using your webs. “All you had to do was listen,” he muttered in your ear, a pained gasp leaving your lips as four sharp prongs sank into your neck, his fangs burying themselves into your skin. Warm liquid flowed from them, eliciting a burning sensation throughout your limbs that slowly turned into numbness.
You could still talk and move, albeit barely, most likely because your husband didn’t want you completely paralyzed, but you couldn’t escape his grasp, his strong arms lifting you until you were slung over his shoulder, lax limbs completely subject to his movements.
“Lyla, send everyone after Miles,” his voice was gruff as he swung off the train, you in one arm, his weight carried by a web in the other, “I’ll handle her.”
———
By the time the paralytic venom wore off, you found yourself at the door of your shared bedroom, Miguel grabbing you from his shoulder and pushing you inside, your legs wobbling slightly from the strange sensation. Shutting it suspiciously lightly, Miguel rested his forehead against the cold panels of the door, your weak legs already positioning you at the other end of the room.
“Miguel, I- I was just trying to help..”
His body went taut at your words, his back rigid, muscles shifting as he turned to look at you. You almost cowered at the sight of him, his eyes a deeper red than you’ve ever seen, his lips pulling back to reply, revealing four-sharp teeth still extended.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he snapped, his pupils dilating into a deep black, almost consuming his whole iris. “All you needed to do was listen to me, and you went and disobeyed a direct order.”
“You’re my husband, not my master..” you muttered under your breath, his breath catching at your little retort, anger lacing his features. “He’s just a kid, Miguel, you’re being too harsh.”
“Harsh..?” He went still at your words, an exasperated laugh leaving his lips as his eyebrows rose. “I’ll show you harsh,” he said under his breath, shoulders squaring to show his full height, long legs making their way to you in easy strides. Your mouth went dry at his words, feet stepping carefully to back away from him, his approaching steps pushing you further and further until your back hit the wall.
“Miguel wait-” your words were cut off as his large hand closed around your wrist, wrenching you towards the bed, your heels digging into the ground. With a battle of limbs, you found yourself atop his knees, your stomach pressing against his strong legs, his fingers gently caressing your bottom. Your hips wiggled, legs struggling to get away at the implication of his hand. “You can’t run now, cariño,” he growled, sharp claws cutting through the fabric of your suit exposing your ass and legs to his preying eyes.
Long fingers hooked under the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down to reveal your soft skin, fingers tracing every inch, his touch disappearing for a second before returning in the form of a harsh slap, a yelp leaving your lips at the scorching sensation blooming along your bottom.
His hand continued its assault, your legs shaking in his hold. “Poca pucha, just couldn’t listen could you,” he gritted out, palm smacking and smacking relentlessly until your ass was flaming red, choked cries spewing from your lips as you pleaded for him to stop.
He didn’t listen though, every spank leaving a new mark on your skin, red handprints painting your bottom half as your hands clawed at his ankles. “M-Miguel please! I’m s-sorry,” you squirmed, hips bucking until he landed a particularly rough slap against your skin. ��Stay still,” he grunted, hands pushing your hips down as he repeatedly spanked you, tears rolling down your cheeks and onto his lap.
You were hiccuping now, so distressed your cries caught in your throat, your bottom raw and red, so sore it stung, the feeling of fire consuming you with even the smallest touch. His hand relented when he heard you muttering ‘i’m sorry’ like a mantra, the rough pads of his fingers gently massaging your inflamed bottom.
Miguel tutted at your soft cries, rubbing your skin as his other hand spread your legs. “Mírate-” he whispered, fingers dipping to scoop up your liquids, spreading your folds, “puta chorrea.” Without any preparation, he stuffed two fingers into your cunt, a choked gasp leaving your lips as he immediately started to curl his fingers into you, throwing you straight into the grasps of pleasure it was almost painful.
His thick fingers nudged at every pleasurable spot inside of you, your walls sucking him in greedily despite your current distaste of your husband. Every curl and poke elicited a whine from you, your body shivering as it neared climax, cunt pulsing around his fingers as a tell tale sign. Before you could release, Miguel pulled his fingers from you, large hands grabbing your waist to throw you on the bed.
You couldn’t even process the loss of pleasure before he was tearing the rest of your suit off and pushing your back into an impossible arch, your inflamed ass stuck in the air as his hands grabbed onto your hips. “Wait Mig-” all air was pushed out of your lungs as he sheathed himself in you with one thrust, the stretch causing a burn to ignite in your cunt.
His palm never left your back as he thrusted in and out at a brutal pace, soft groans leaving his lips, his strong legs slamming into the back of your thighs. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, your mewls and pleas muffled by the pillow Miguel shoved your face into, his fingers cradling the crown of your head to keep you still.
His cock was so thick and long, you felt it hit an unknown area every time he pushed into you, and without normal foreplay, the stretch was insane. Your walls pulsed with the struggle to take him, the ring of muscles at the entrance of your cunt visible as it wrapped around his shaft to suck him in.
Caught up in pleasure himself, Miguel leaned down to cage you in his arms, chest pressed to your back in a primal, animal-like position, his muscled arms placed on both sides of your head, hips never relenting with their intense thrusts.
“Too harsh, arañita?” he whispered into your ear, his teeth pulling at your earlobe, lips sucking at your neck as you trembled beneath him, your voice too hoarse from crying to respond. Heavy balls slapped against your cunt, Miguel’s thrusts becoming harder as you recognized his own tells of an orgasm. His ab muscles rippled against your back, his claws started to emerge, his breathing turned ragged, and he always kissed somewhere on your body, this time being your shoulder.
Groaning into the nook of your shoulder and neck, Miguel released inside of you, thick, hot ropes of cum painting every inch of your cunt, his hips stuttering to push every last drop into you while you tipped over the edge, your climax small and sudden, cunt sucking his juices in as you released your own, clenching around his spent cock.
Catching his breath, Miguel pulled out of you slowly, ears catching the pained whimper you let out, eyes looking down to watch as his white liquid poured from your hole. Your hips slumped and rested against the bed, your face still hidden by the pillow as you caught your breath, exhausted and extremely sore.
It was like he’d been clouded with lust and anger the whole time, because as he looked at your trembling form, the clear feeling of guilt consumed him. As careful as possible, he collected as many soothing ingredients he could find from the bathroom; a cold washcloth, calming lotion, and water all included.
Kneeling on the bed, his hands gently moved to prop your hips up, a choked out ‘no’ leaving your lips, your fear quickly extinguished by his soft, cooed words. “Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered, wiping the washcloth along your irritated folds and your inner thighs, cleaning up any excess liquids. Taking your reddened bottom into his hands, he smoothed and rubbed lotion onto you, the tender skin of your ass slowly becoming soothed by the cool substance.
Kissing up your spine, Miguel stroked your hair, his hand tilting your head to be able to see your face, his heart dropping at the sight of your red eyes, tear stained cheeks, and lack of speaking. “Oh- mi amor..” he murmured, strong arms pulling you onto his chest (careful not to nudge your bottom) as he rubbed your back, a quiet sigh leaving your lips at the feeling.
“I’m sorry.. I shouldn’t have gotten angry with you,” his voice was filled with regret, leaving a kiss to your head as you hummed your agreement. “I-” he pursed his lips, releasing a sigh as he struggled to say a certain admission, “I may have been a little too harsh on him.”
A breathy laugh resounded against his chest, your hoarse voice a relief to his ears as your tired eyes looked up to meet his own, “you think?”
—————————————————————————
ella es mía- she’s mine
cariño- sweetheart
poca pucha- little cunt
mírate- look at you
puta chorrea- fucking dripping
arañita- little spider
mi amor- my love
#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara smut#miguel x reader#miguel smut#miguel o’hara imagine#spiderman across the spiderverse#atsv miguel#why cant he be real
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adieu, mon dieu!
“forgive me, father, for i have committed the biggest sin of all!”
pairing: afab!reader x re4r!leon
warnings: smut, virginity loss, blasphemy, dub-con, inexperienced/pure reader, religious reader, manipulation, cum eating, creampie, pussy slapping, pet names, breeding kink, slight choking, crying during sex, age gap mention (reader is 19 while leon is 27), fingering, porn with plot (?), bit of ooc leon
note: first time writing hence why it’s so long :3 also wrote this based on leon saying “i’ll give you a holy body” in re4r bc nobody freaks out over it like i do
“holy mary, mother of god, pray for us sinners.” the prayer is muscle memory. a smile adorns your face as you walk out of sunday mass with your family. oh how you cherish the time spent in god’s temple. you would not have it any other way. this small, quiet town in washington homes jesus freaks like yourself. where every summer, all children through teens spend their time at church camp. cross necklaces or rosaries are worn around the necks of bypassers and neighbors. you feel as though you are blessed with such a life.
so when leon appears in your life, you think you’re the most blessed girl alive. as the two of you go steady, he starts attending church with you and listens to the word of the lord with you in his black jeep. he listens to your prayers and readings of the bible. leon couldn’t be anymore perfect. “our heavenly father has blessed me with a man who loves me.” pink hues flush your cheeks as you smile giddishly during confession. “do not let temptation fool you.” the priest on the other side taunts, almost as if it’s a warning.
the people of the church disagree with the relationship you have with leon, the eight year gap between you two. more so, they dislike leon. they tell you he is not a man of the lord, he is a walking sin. they share their stories of glancing at him during mass and how he’s appearing to hold back laughter, how he doesn’t actually consume the blood and body of christ, how his eyes are filled with something evil. you choose to not believe them as they don’t know leon as you do. “he is nothing like that, sister olivia.” you defend during sunday lunch, biting your tongue. “you have found the devil in a lover.” sister olivia spews with disgust.
her words are a distraction during your date, echoing and bleeding into the grooves of your brain. “sweetheart?” leon calls as he catches your zoned out state. your eyes connect with his, you break yourself out of thought. “i’m sorry, i was just lost in thought.” you apologize, gleaming with a shy smile. the warmth of leon’s hand engulfs yours across the table, the cold silver of your ring turning hot. “i was asking if you would want to go back to my place after this?” leon repeats what you had muffled seconds ago.
“i’ll have to ask my dad first.” you embarrassingly respond as pinks heat your cheeks. there’s limited privacy with leon, daytime stays at his home with an hour max limit and once every two weeks only. your father implemented this as a way to keep a better piece of mind. “c’mon sweetheart, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” leon persuades with sugar on his tongue. the veil of orange from the candles illuminating the table is covering his face, you might just burst from the ethereal beauty he holds. he’s saying something color-coded yet it’s muffled as the tidal wave of his eyes are drowning you. “okay.” you mindlessly respond, leon faintly smirks.
the little skirt you wear is almost halfway off while you and leon makeout on his couch, something you shamelessly leave out during confessions. you keep your hands on his broad shoulders while he dangerously lingers his hands at your hips and thighs. you think you’re seeping through your panties as you feel a wet patch forming, making you feel bothered. “i feel weird.” you pant between a kiss, lungs aflame from the little oxygen you grant yourself. leon pulls away with furrowing eyebrows, “did i do something wrong?”
yet you’re struggling to understand what IS wrong. why do you feel so…wet down there? maybe you started your period but you realize it ended a week ago. leon’s eyes are burning into your skin, the gaze causing you to feel mortified. how can you tell him this? what if he thinks you’re weird? his girlfriend is wetting herself like a damn fool for no reason. “what is it?” that soft tone of his makes you feel even worse. embarrassment is starting to creep itself into the flesh of your body.
“i feel wet.” you say it so clearly and slowly as if you’re dumbing it down for yourself. you don’t know why you feel like this and you don’t know why it’s happening. leon smiles at the frustration you show, clearly not thinking of your situation weirdly. “that’s a good thing, doll.” he coos while holding your hands. head tilting and ditzy eyes searching for an answer, you are clueless by how this is a good thing. “what do you mean, leon?” “you’re turned on, that’s what i mean.” the blood pumping into your heart turns cold at the realization of what you have let yourself done. one of the deadliest sins of all: lust
how can you let yourself get carried away and almost give into something sacred? something you promised to your heavenly father that you will wait till marriage to do? you clutch the rosary wrapped around your neck, “please forgive me. i’m sorry, leon.” you think leon must be feeling the same way too, realizing you both almost gave into sin. oh how awful he must feel, to almost have betrayed the lord and gave into temptation. leon searches your face in hopes to find something you’re not sure of. “why are you apologizing?” he questions, hands no longer embracing your own.
“for getting you caught up in almost sinning.” “it’s not a bad thing to be turned on.” his voice is laced with something unfamiliar, a tone you’re not even aware of. “but it can lead to having sex and we’re not-” “there’s nothing bad about having sex either.” leon interrupts with annoyance. you can’t fathom how he thinks premature sex is not bad, he’s read the bible with you countless times. the purity ring wrapped around your finger symbolizes the commitment you vowed to and he’s reminded every time he holds your hand. “we can’t have sex, leon. you know that.”
“do you not love me?” leon is frowning at you, taking you aback with his words. “i love you, leon. of course i do.” you profusely confess as you get closer to him. the weight of your chest growing heavy while he shakes his head. “you’re supposed to have sex with the one you love right? then why don’t you? if you love me enough, then it’s not sin.” leon preaches with eyes glimmering with something indescribable. “we won’t have sex, we’ll be making love. that’s different. the lord doesn’t view it as sin.”
different strokes of blue are piercing into your soul, almost like his eyes are trapping you. your mind is foggy as you try to think of something to say. “i don’t think...” you trail off with unsure certainty, but what you want to actually say becomes lost in thought as leon’s cherry-bruised lips pull apart in a smile. you think he’s right, it’s something you probably skimmed over. cold hands caress your bare thighs, leon’s lips kiss the skin below your jaw. “you know i’m right, doll.” he mutters while his teeth lightly nip your skin, you grow hot. “i would never lie to such a pretty angel.”
“i’ll make you feel so good.” leon promises with his hands scrunching up your skirt. the sudden action causing your heart to burst within itself. your dry mouth defeats the words wanting to escape, to tell him to not touch there. you’re also battling the urge to let yourself do so as his hands grasp your inner thigh, sending a rush throughout your body. doe eyes noticing the way leon is looking at you as if you’re a sheep, tethered in his sharp teeth, bracing to become a meal.
two fingers rub you over your panties, the new feeling quickly has you inhale sharply. butterflies flutter around in your abdomen. leon hums as his fingers gather your essence that is leaking through the fabric. “there you are, pretty.” leon lays you further down on the couch. his lips kiss you again roughly and you grip at his bicep as his hands quickly discard your skirt. leon impatiently pulls away from your lips to look at the newly found view, lilac panties adorned with a baby blue ribbon. leon’s favorite color.
the wetness from earlier feels as if it’s completely soaking the fabric. you feel utterly exposed like this, so vulnerable in front of leon. “you’re so fucking sexy.” he sighs out once he finally removes the one thing keeping him away from your forbidden fruit. “please leon.” you’re unsure if you’re begging or pleading. the temperature of your body is uncomfortably hot and you’re sure it’s because your soul is already spiraling down to hell. you want to stop leon from inserting his finger into your sopping cunt, but of course you don’t.
“have you ever touched yourself, doll?” leon asks, while fingering you agonizingly slow. you crave for more, not exactly sure of what. you need more of him. you’re heaving at this point, staring into leon’s eyes as he watches you unfold before him, a flower blooming almost too late. “i’m not supposed to.” you choke out the answer while he begins to messily rub your clit. the smirk resting on leon’s lips is haunting you, why does he always look so desirable with that stupid smirk?
“says who? your god?” leon pushes a second finger into your sopping hole, an uncomfortable stretch soon followed by an indescribable pleasure. the erotic sounds of your cunt being touched for the first time reach your hot pink ears. leon curls his fingers against your spongey walls causing you to squirm. the imaginary coil in your lower stomach feels like it’s on the brink of snapping.
“yes.” you moan while he lightly slaps your cunt. “what kind of god deprives his children of a pleasure such as this? don’t you feel good, angel? i know your pussy sure does.” leon smiles at your reaction for his choice of words, you forget how blunt he tends to be. “d-don’t say that.” “your god can’t be all that great if he won’t even let me feel how your pussy squeezes around my fingers.” the blasphemy hits you like a gunshot only temporarily, the pleasure you’re receiving rids it right away.
you’re shaking your head but you don’t know if it’s from the frustration of leon speaking against the lord or if you’re about to reach sweet relief. “leon.” you hiccup, the pleasure becoming too much and your mind is turning into mush. a tight grip on leon’s bicep has him chuckling, looking down at you so pathetically. “you look so fucking stupid. go ahead and cum for me, pretty.” he grants while your cunt is squeezing so tightly around his digits.
back arching off the couch along with the most pornographic moan to ever come out of your chest, the coil snaps. waves of ecstasy crashes within your body, releasing out of your sopping hole. your thighs are shaking to snap close but leon doesn’t let it happen as he gathers your essence up with his fingers. “god, you’re just so fucking perfect.” leon grunts before sticking his own fingers in his mouth, the honey he has been craving falls onto his tongue. you feel yourself get dizzy at the sight.
leon reaches down to give you a messy kiss, tasting your cum on his tongue. “wanna fuck you.” he moans into your mouth, his jeans rub against your cunt and you’re sure your cum smeared onto the denim. you want to stop right here, you want to run straight to church and plead for your life in the confessional booth. however, when leon pulls away to strip off his pants and his fat, long cock hits his abdomen, you feel that indescribable want grow stronger.
your breathing becomes heavy as leon rubs the tip of his cock at your entrance. his cock looks too big for you, fearing he’ll split you open. the taste of bitter metallic hits your tongue and you realize you’re biting your bottom lip too hard. “i’m so lucky.” leon grunts, dragging his thumb across your bleeding lip. “get to be the first to fuck this virgin pussy.” he barely pushes the tip into your tight cunt when you start crying. the pain of slight tearing mixed with the eternal damnation you’re going to face is cutting at your skin. “please.” your vision is blurry through the tears when leon pushes his cock fully into you, you can hear him let out a deep groan.
the way leon’s cock feels inside of you makes you feel so full. the pain of being ripped open for the first time is soon subsided by a mind clouded with desire, yet you’re still crying. leon moves in and out slowly but roughly, hitting a spot within you just right. you moan wearily, salty tears trickling down into your agape mouth. when leon begins to thrust a bit more hard, you’re sobbing out loud moans. leon presses his hand against your throat, “so fucking loud.” he’s snapping his hips into you, his cock bruising the inside of your cunt so sweetly that you feel the coil about to snap again.
“need to shut that mouth of yours next time.” leon grunts, looking at you in a haze. he squeezes your throat as if to test the waters and you choke out a needy moan, your cunt almost suffocating his cock at the action. “such a nasty girl.” leon smirks while picking up the pace of the abuse on your cunt. baby pink nails are scratching at leon’s biceps. you slur out an apology, clearly not in the right headspace to realize that leon is toying with the rosary tangled in your neck. “oh my-” you cut yourself off when leon’s cock repeatedly hits against a spot so sweet, the coil in your stomach feels like it’s tightening.
“say it.” leon taunts. his hand reaches down to messily rub at your clit once more, your eyes flutter shut. you know what he wants and you don’t think you can push yourself further into damnation by saying the lord’s name in vain. “c’mon, doll. tell your god how my cock is making you feel.” leon tightly wraps his fingers around the dainty rosary, you’re pleading at him through your eyes, mouth too occupied by the moans you let out. “leon please.” you cry out, you’re not sure if you’re begging him to stop the blasphemy or to make you cum.
leon soon loses himself in your cunt, grasping at your hips to drill his cock deeper in you. the stars in your eyes are getting brighter, you’re almost there. dirty blonde hair cover leon’s eyes, relieving yourself of the gaze he had on you. “gonna fucking breed you.” leon laps at your neck, biting at your soft skin as if it’s the bread he eats at church. “you want that? want me to fill you up?” you moan out a incoherent yes, too fucked out to understand what he’s even saying. leon captures your lips in a heated kiss, tongues relentlessly clash against each other.
leon’s cock hits that sweet spot one final time before the coil within you finally snaps. “oh my god, leon!” you moan so loudly, throat becoming faintly sore. your body is shaking at the ecstasy that’s somehow stronger than before, nails clawing at leon’s back that you feel like you may draw blood. “there you go, angel.” leon’s words are drowned out by pure euphoria. you feel the warm essence escape out of your cunt but it’s soon mixed with another hot feeling, leon’s own cum. he desperately shoves his cock into you to rid himself of every last drop. you look down to where you two are connected, the lewd sight brings you back down to earth.
if anyone were to rip open your chest to view the way your heart is pounding, almost punching itself out, they’d think you murdered a man. the burden of betrayal is sitting heavy on your shoulders, all the prayers in the world couldn’t save you now. when you look at leon, who is taking in the sight of his cum dripping out of your cunt, the thought begins to become a crimson haze. a string of pearl beads clutched in leon’s fist catches your eye, you look up at him. a blue hue meet yours, the once bright shade now dark. leon lets out a daunting chuckle, “won’t be needing that anymore.”
sprawled out on his palm is a broken chain along with a few pearls and a tiny cross. leon ripped off your rosary.
#leon kennedy#leon kennedy smut#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#resident evil 4 smut#leon kennedy imagine#leon kennedy x fem reader#idk how to tag this
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𝓪 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓽𝔃 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪 𝓼𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 ⋆ ࣪˖ 𓂃𓋜
al haitham x f!reader . sfw — fluff . established relationship ﾉ how to spend a sunday morning in love . . ♡ note : this is a sweet little ficlet based on a dream i had dreamt two nights ago :3 i apologize for any errors here — i wrote this in one sitting with love absolutely inundating me (∩´͈ `͈∩ ྀི) this is moreso catharsis for me than anything else !
it will never be more homely in al haitham's house than it is late on sunday mornings.
because it really doesn't get much cosier than this: the sumeru sun peeking through the open window to tip its hat and wish upon you a ‘good day!’, the bird-chime breeze whisking the sweet fragrance of ripened zaytun peaches past the curtains, the cuckoo clock announcing that it's prime time for elevenses.
“biscuits with your tea, haitham?”
“yes, thank you.”
what a delightfully dreamy sunday morning it is! today especially of all sundays past, where mottles of gold dust flit and float through the spiced air of his kitchen and you stand before him dressed in a sugar-icing pink frock.
he holds you in his eyes and a mug of chai in his left hand, fondling your fingers with his right, mindlessly thumbing over your ring finger.
al haitham searches for something that isn’t yet there.
and of course, you understand your lover without words. meet his gaze with a demure smile. quiet, fawn-eyed, clever. and you dare him to speak his mind with a pout of your lips, an enticing tilt of your head, a charming giggle that’s puffed out onto the junction of his neck before you give it a kiss— tugging at the roots of his heart in ways you know best, “whatcha thinking about?”
his lips twitch up into a curve at your feigned innocence because, oh, you know exactly what he’s thinking.
it's in this pas de deux that he finds such great joy, these games of push-and-pull that you play. he recognizes that perhaps he's weak to it— your whimsy and wonder, that you're still as coy as when first you met, and he melts underneath it as if he were cream on a cone.
you twirl twine round and round and round his soul to bind it to yours without even realizing.
“i'm sure you already know, habibti,” al haitham tells you: once spoken, once again with a playful tug of your ring finger, once more with the sealing kiss of an unspoken promise to your lips. the syrupy sweetness of his breath and his words are laid thickly on you, and your smile wavers the teensiest of bits as he sets his mug aside and encases your hand within his, raising it to his chest.
“still...”
your head begins to spin and your little heart begins to pound a little louder.
“won't you say it? please?”
so too does his.
there is a lot more vehemence in al haitham than you'd have guessed, and a great deal more than he has any idea of himself— for he's spitting the words out before you can even close your mouth.
but it is just such a tender sunday morning here in his kitchen and the sun is kissing your cheek and casting dancing shadows in the dip of your clavicle and your glass of iced tea is starting to tear up and you smell of harra fruit and white shores and green fields and everything pure in this world and good grief, he is just so in love with you.
“marry me.”
al haitham does not ask it of you nor does he command it of you— it is merely a breath (one that is slightly more wobbly than his pride would have foretold) of a burning desire that he wishes to will into existence.
“let me be your husband.” a delicate kiss is laid upon your ring finger. “let me make you my wife.” another to the one on your opposite hand. “let me make you the happiest girl alive.”
his words slice through your cake of a heart and bleeds it of its custard memories, tart lemony feelings that push a crinkle up your throat and behind your eyes. before he's given the chance to speak such uncharacteristically sweet words any longer, you throw yourself into his arms and steal from him a searing hug.
and it's not the colour of his hair that fascinates you (you do well to remind yourself that it is silver, not grey), nor the peculiar little way he's got about him. it's the form his eyes and lips take when he smiles at you, the shape his voice fills when he talks to you— how carefully, tenderly he crafts himself when it comes to you. it is all for you, entirely yours and only yours to see, to keep, to admire.
“i get to love you until the end of forever... lucky me.” your voice is a garbled mess of sniffles and hiccups but really, you can't help it.
love is inundating you and you can't help but weep in the middle of his kitchen on this fine sunday morning, where the sun blesses you with its light and the birds and chimes sing and the flowers on the sill dance for you and your eternal honeymoon love.
al haitham takes your face within the cradles of his palms, kissing your dewy cheeks and shushing your sobs and caressing you into a peaceful silence. “so… what say you?”
the giggles and squeals of children playing as they run past his house sound through the window and it makes you cling to him tighter, fists furling and unfurling in the linen of his sleep shirt.
how long have you stood, swathed in his sweet embrace like this? his chai is no longer steaming and an ache begins to wrap itself around your head from all the tears you've shed. though, you suppose it matters not— a moment is forever if it is spent in his arms.
“i'm sure you already know, haitham.”
#𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓯𝓸𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓻 ⑅˚˖ ݁ ˓ ෆ#alhaitham x reader#genshin x reader#al haitham x reader#genshin impact x reader#alhaitham x you#alhaitham x y/n#genshin fluff#genshin drabbles#genshin imagines#frens …. i jus . …….. .. …… 🥹#haitham ❤︎
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spring cleaning ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ choi beomgyu
now playing 𝄞₊⊹ sukidakara - beomgyu (og: yuika)
⋆ pairing: high school sweetheart!beomgyu x gn!reader
⋆ summary: in an attempt to declutter your home for the spring, you find an old camcorder filled with beautiful memories of your first love.
⋆ warnings: fluff, mentioned past heeseung (enhypen) x reader, jealous beomgyu, established relationship, italics are flashbacks, beomgyu is a musician? so technically kind of an au, insinuated that beomgyu and reader were high schoolers in the 2000s
⋆ word count: 2k
a/n: LISTEN TO HIS COVER NEOOOWWW!!! god i love him so bad...... this is also not proofread sry i wrote this out of pure delusion LOL. stuff might sound bad omg i just wanted to write fluff 😭 banner by @/saradika <3
it's nearly midnight when you decided to rummage through your drawers, cabinets, and now, your closet. while dipping your head into the various sets of clothes, you reach for a heart-shaped box with a matching pink ribbon sitting on the lid.
inside, you find an assortment of trinkets from your days in high school. lilac envelopes with silly faces drawn on the seal, addressed to you; postcards from your distant relatives; your university acceptance letter; even a nasty tube of your favourite (expired) strawberry lip balm.
what really distracts you from your spring cleaning antics is the silver camcorder that sits in the very middle of the box.
the clunky piece of technology is covered in dust and mismatched stickers, obvious once you bring it out of the black hole that is your closet and into the warm light of your bedroom.
you don't expect it to start up with the way it's been abandoned for years, but the familiar jingle fills the silence and you're met with a pixelated view of your carpeting. you habitually click on the gallery, immediately flustered with the thumbnail that greets you.
a fond smile makes its way to your lips as the video plays. it's shit quality, as expected, but even with all the pixels distorting the boy's face, you recognise him. it comes easy, with beomgyu's round eyes nervously shifting from the falling cherry blossoms and onto the lens.
you recall this specific spring. the one right before you were set to graduate. you remember how odd beomgyu seemed the entire walk back to his house until he clumsily led the way to the little park a few minutes away from his childhood home. your impromptu shoot now becoming a memory to savour.
beomgyu keeps his distance from you as you take the longer, more scenic route to his house. he had it all planned out. today would be the day he'd tell you that he liked you. the first week of spring, the cherry blossoms falling perfectly; it was as if the universe and the gods of romance were aligning everything to his favour. he even got your favourite strawberry yogurt drink on-hand, poking the straw through the film and handing it to you proudly when you gasp and proclaim your gratefulness to him.
unfortunately, that didn't play out the way he fantasised the night before, sprawled out on his futon with a dopey grin on his face until morning came. even so, he didn't let his sleep deprived self peek through for a minute since you exited the school gates.
that was until you mentioned lee heeseung.
"heeseung asked me to the internet cafe this weekend," you begin, harmlessly conversing about your day like you usually do. you take a sip of your drink, then extend it to beomgyu, offering a taste.
he leans down to catch the straw between his lips, heart fluttering ever-so-slightly at the thought of your lips just being on that flimsy plastic a few moments ago. clearly, that gesture wasn't enough to keep his mind distracted from the mention of lee heeseung.
beomgyu tries to remain calm. internet cafe? surely, a thing friends do. you've tagged along with him and soobin a few times.
"he said it was a date."
which explains your current predicament. it's obvious that beomgyu is upset, lips jutted into a pout and brows furrowed. his hands stay stuck in his pockets as if they'd been glued there, so unlike his usual behaviour. on days like this, beomgyu typically links arms with you, or tugs on the top hook of your backpack to ease the weight off you, or even sling his arms around you with a mischievous grin. right now, you're sure this is the farthest beomgyu has been from you.
the silence drapes over you two like a stuffy blanket. you're thankful for the loud honks and bicycle bells in the background, even appreciating the yelling of the street vendors as your typically boisterous peer is quiet.
a bike chaotically speeds through your side, the rider repeatedly hitting the bell as they make their way to you. beomgyu quickly grabs your arm and trades places with you before the bike catches up, him on the road-side and you by the fences. once the bike passes with a hurried apology, beomgyu lets go of your arm and maintains the former distance.
"...sounds like a shit date, to be honest." the silence shatters. he mutters, huffing out a breath as he walks just an inch closer to you, as if trying to be a barrier between you and the road.
you blink at him, lips flat and eyes unassuming. just relieved he's talking to you. "you think?"
"yeah, why would you wanna be inside when the streets look like this.." he motions towards the cherry blossom trees surrounding you both. "..right now. d'you even like him enough to say yes?"
"i dunno. he's cool, i guess. isn't he your friend?"
"just played a few games together."
his responses are straight to the point. none of his beomgyu bullshit spinning your conversations through circles, which you admittedly did enjoy.
"is something... wrong? did you guys fight? i can beat him up for you if i go." you try to joke, your eyes never leaving beomgyu's face to catch his reaction.
he winces, "uh, no, not really. that- that's not the problem..."
your silence prompts beomgyu to keep talking, but his eyes don't meet yours. instead, he's staring at the pavement, picking up the creases on his shoes he'd never seen before, distracting himself by counting the petals he comes across. none of it calms his heart or clears the lump in his throat though.
he abruptly lifts his head and stares back at you. a pleasant surprise that causes you to blush at how his eyes sparkle so brightly. he sighs defeatedly, not wanting to be upset any longer. with one look at you, beomgyu's stubbornness weakens, a small smile on his lips as he closes the distance between you both.
his shoulder purposely clashes into yours, "it's really pretty at the park near my house right now. wanna see?"
you pause the video upon hearing the doorbell ring. with a knowing grin, you take the camcorder with you to the door. once you pull it open, the comforting sight of your boyfriend floods your vision.
"m'home~" he greets in a sing-song tone, arms spread wide awaiting your welcome home hug that he always craves after hours at the studio.
beomgyu's eyes travel from your sunken but excited eyes to the familiar thing in your hold. he blinks repeatedly, craning his neck up stiffly to look up at you again. comically, he brings an accusatory finger to the front with a nervous chuckle.
"is that...?"
"yup!" you beam enthusiastically, like you had waited for him to step foot into your shared apartment to eat him up.
knowing what was inside the camcorder, beomgyu could say it was similar. his face feels warmer despite the late night breeze still whisking him away from behind. you tug at his outstretched arm and pull him inside, shutting the door.
usually, you'd ask how work was, or pester him to let you listen to a new song he worked on. tonight though, none of that.
beomgyu sits next to you on the sofa, cheek nuzzled against your head. his downward gaze is alert to every button you press on the camcorder, cringing slightly at the memory of his partly successful confession.
beomgyu leans in closer to have a better look at the viewfinder. he chooses to focus on something else entirely even as you're sucked into the pretty pinks of the sakura flowers and the shaky footage of his round head.
the wind was just slightly unforgiving that day, petals swirling around the park. you're a few steps behind beomgyu. he's biting the inside of his cheek, stare stuck to the pavement, desperately wishing you'd speed up and start walking beside him.
impatient as ever, beomgyu decides he'll just slow down for you. he's not very subtle about it though, opting to halt entirely and turn his head in your direction. beomgyu wants to see the surprise in your face; eyes wide and cheeks pink. instead, what greets him is the lens of your camcorder, a hand-me-down from your relatives that you couldn't stop talking about over text just the other week.
beomgyu strides forward and you stay still in your spot, tightly gripping the camcorder. "beomgyu, say hi to the camera!"
your voice echoes with excitement, beomgyu doesn't have to peer beyond the camcorder to know that your lashes are kissing the apples of your cheeks with the way you're smiling widely. he wants to be the one to keep you beaming like this for years and years on end.
you're about to back away as beomgyu gets too close for the camcorder to film him and the view. then, you feel beomgyu's lithe fingers over your own, tugging on the camera, extending your arm by result, and raising it to his eye-level. beomgyu makes sure you're looking at him through the viewfinder. with a lopsided smile and head cocked to the side, beomgyu braces himself for what's to come, "hey, i like you."
your arm falls limp as he releases his grip on you, shocked by his confession. he doesn't let you process it, though, running towards the opposite direction. it takes you a moment to run after him, camera long forgotten. "choi beomgyu..! you!"
"why are you running away from someone you like, huh?!" you huff out, catching your breath.
when you look up, you can't help but point the camera at beomgyu again. with plenty of cherry blossom trees in the background, beomgyu center in the frame, wind trying to pull his necktie away, how could you not? the boy you like, the one that just confessed to you on one spring day, looked too beautiful.
the camcorder manages to pick up your words amidst the scratchy noises of the wind. in a whisper, one can hear your voice, "i like you too, beomgyu."
"wow, i was really handsome since birth, huh?" he poses confidently, his lips and warm breath kissing your hair as he speaks.
you roll your eyes with a smile, and you don't disagree. you never do and it makes beomgyu blush and grin. if he wasn't too comfortable in your warmth, he would be laying down on his stomach with a coquettish smile and his feet kicking up and down.
"yeah, s'why i'm engaged to you, no?" you blow a raspberry at him.
an exaggerated gasp paired with a dramatic drop of his jaw has your stomach hurting from laughing too hard. "i thought you loved me!"
"i do!" you giggle, biting down your lips to stop more fits of laughter spilling out. you squish beomgyu's cheeks together, lips pursed and begging to be kissed. so you do. "you and your pretty face, baby."
your laughs settle down into echoes of contentment, beomgyu's palm rubbing against your belly as if soothing your self-inflicted ache. plus, beomgyu would stick his limbs to your body if he could.
he presses his cheek against your head, "did you know i liked you even before that spring?"
you hum in thought, resting your hand atop the one on your tummy and filling in the gaps between his fingers with your own. you smile even harder upon feeling the cold metal band of your engagement rings. "nah. i thought it was impossible, honestly,"
"didn't even really think you thought of me like that until then, bomu." you admit shyly, playing with your interlocked fingers. beomgyu's lips purse in thought, "i thought i was pretty obvious though,"
"was buying you strawberry milk everyday and carrying your backpack home even if we lived in opposite directions not obvious enough for you, honey?"
"well... it's obvious now!"
"yeah," he beams that sweet, silly, sly beomgyu half-smirk that you've always loved. he releases your hands momentarily to raise his fingers to the light, showing off his ring. "we're so locked in now."
#from.313#313.softhours#313.beomgyu#beomgyu fluff#choi beomgyu x reader#beomgyu x reader#txt x reader#txt fluff#beomgyu soft thoughts#beomgyu soft hours#txt soft thoughts#txt soft hours#txt scenarios#txt imagines#txt x you#beomgyu scenarios#beomgyu x you
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MOTION PICURE SOUNDTRACK
pairings : paul atreides ⠀𝒙⠀ fem!reader
𐙚 warnings : religious undertones, ( slight spoilers ?! ), suggestive content
words : 0.723k
note. i wrote this barely an hour after watching this movie because my ideas just flooded onto a page. I’m in love with this movie, and I cannot wait for the third ( and final one ). As someone who is in love w movie franchises & trilogies, the build up was so good, but now we wait :3. What better to wait than writing fanfiction !!! ( i need to start writing fics more than 1k bc this is a bit pathetic ).
#. main masterlist. | misc masterlist.
PAUL ATREIDES.
IN your hazy mind, buried deep inside the sacred caves of your soul, you knew he was still yours.
From his lengthened, yet disguised stares to his lingering, yet quick touches, you knew in his carefully hollowed out heart, he still called you his.
Far inside those ocean blue, star-dusted eyes of his, he was the ripple of water amongst the desert sand.
A glass pearl imprisoned in a tight-fisted oyster.
Paul belonged to them, he belonged to his people.
He was the grace of the hand of god, the messiah of your virtue, desire and sin.
Most of all, however, he belonged to you.
Your flickering eyes watched as he exerted his power over them, your figure trailing behind in his shadows.
They never knew you.
Yet, he knew you better than anyone could. He knew every hue that littered your eyes, he knew every spot on your body, he knew your every thought and language, he knew how to drive you practically insane, seduced by the simple touch of his bare hands.
He was yours to keep, and you were his.
In the comfort of your tent, soft oranges bleeding into and staining the night’s dizzy tint, you lay beside each other, your lingering hands abstaining from touching him as your eyes travelled up and down his body.
He was still awake, but it seemed as if he refused to acknowledge you.
Letting out a small sigh, you pushed yourself onto the leverage of your elbow, glancing at his face as you locked eyes with him, watching as his pupils dilated softly, as he flicked his gaze to your lips.
“You should try and get some sleep,” you whispered, cupping his cheek with your free hand as your thumb pressed against his bottom lip. “It’s not good for you to go out exhausted.”
A moment passed before a small smile laced his lips, a glimpse of an old version of your lover coming back.
“What if I wanted to stay up looking at you?” He muttered before leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips.
Your stomach fluttered at that, your body growing weak and the sound of his adoration for you. The keeper of his heart.
Copying his motion, you also moved to deepen the kiss, his hand moving to your waist as he pulled you closer.
You pulled away slowly, breathing deeply yet quietly, as you gazed into his eyes, a deep thought disrupting your raw and pure moment.
“Do I matter to you, Paul?” You asked, your eyes now glossy as you stared at him, attempting to read him somehow.
To find a remnant of emotion or memory on his face.
To study him like the pages of an ancient book.
“What do you mean?” He mumbled, pressing his thumb lightly into the skin of your hip as he caressed it lightly.
“You hardly acknowledge I’m even there,” you explained, pursing your lips into a straight line as you tried to ignore the feeling of his hands on your bare skin.
Paul studied you for a moment in the dim light before sitting up right, causing you to mirror him.
“They need me, you know that,” he answered, placing both of his hands on your face, pulling you in so your faces were inches away from each other, his breath warm on your skin.
“But here, I’m all yours,” he added, taking your hand in his. “I belong to you, and only you.”
His face was sincere and his expression was soft. His heart was pure and his touch was intoxicating.
“I’m yours too, Paul Atreides. I’ll always be yours,” you whispered swollen words, the corners of your mouth twisting into a small grin as you leaned in to kiss him again.
This time, he moved both of his hands to your waist, pulling you onto his lap as he kissed you deeply.
Your body was flush against his, your nimble fingers played with the strands of his hair at the back of his head. He then moved his lips to the crook of your neck, peppering small kisses to every sensitive spot possible, causing you to let out small gasps at the feeling of his lips against your desperate flesh.
Your small whimpers, a raw testimony to his passion.
And all sleep was lost.
#txt.#*misc#dune#dune part two#dune part 2#dune movie#dune 2#dune 2024#paul atreides#paul atredies x reader
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B.D.S.M
Leon Kennedy x F!Mistress!Reader
synopsis: leon has a guilty pleasure, which is a deep secret no one knows. every time after a stressful mission, leon goes to this particular place to release his tension. you're too familiar with the man, already knowing what he loves. he's your favorite customer. you're his favorite mistress.
warnings: PURE SMUT. bdsm on its edge. degradation kink, praise kink, shibari, use of pet names, sex toys, sub!leon and dom!reader, handjob, edging, spanking, gaging, spanking, flogging, role-playing.
word count: 3735k
a/n: sub!leon always comes to my mind for unknown reasons. he's so fucking cute and awkward. sometimes, I don't see him as the dominant one, I think he's more of a switch. anyway, I wrote this bc I thought it would be funny to change sides (since the last smut I wrote was with dom!leon)
Leon's footsteps echoed through the corridor as he made his way back home. His mind was still reeling from the stress of the mission he had just completed. The weight of the world seemed to press down on his shoulders, and he yearned for a way to escape the constant tension that plagued him.
It was almost three in the morning, but he didn't care. Due to the nature of his job, Leon had a highly irregular schedule. His timing was inconsistent, and he did not have a set time to return home. It could be morning, afternoon, evening, or the middle of the night. Although his busy schedule demanded most of his time, Leon still had something that couldn't be postponed.
As he entered his apartment, he casually threw his leather jacket onto a chair and ran his hand through his tousled hair. The peaceful solitude of his home only intensified the profound loneliness that had settled deep within him. He needed a release, a way to forget the horrors he had witnessed. With a sigh, he reached for his phone and dialed a number that he had carefully stored in his contacts. The screen lit up, and he waited for it to ring. He felt a mixture of anticipation and relief when the call was answered.
"Hello," a sultry voice purred on the other end of the line. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Leon's voice was filled with a mixture of longing and vulnerability as he replied, "I need to see you, Mistress."
A wicked smile played on your lips as you spoke on the other end of the line. "Of course, darling. I have just the thing to help you forget about your troubles. How soon can you come to my dungeon?"
Leon quickly checked his schedule. "I can be there in an hour," he replied.
"Perfect," you purred. "Prepare yourself and don't keep me waiting. We have much to explore, and I promise you that by the time we're done, all your worries will be left far behind."
As the call ended, Leon felt a renewed sense of anticipation and excitement. Your dungeon provides a sanctuary from the outside world, a place where he can relinquish control and seek solace in the pain and pleasure you provide. It was his escape, a way to let go of the burden he carried, if only for a few precious hours.
As Leon sipped a glass of wine, he gazed out of the window, his thoughts in turmoil. His work demanded discipline, control, and unwavering focus. Yet, it was in the realm of submission and surrender that he found the release he craved - an escape from the relentless pressure of his responsibilities.
Leon had always been a man of contradictions, and his desire for you was no exception. He wondered if his fascination with you was a reflection of his own internal struggles, a means to delve into the depths of his own desires and vulnerabilities. Guilt gnawed at him as he thought about the secrets he kept and the double life he led.
But as he replayed the memories of their encounters in his mind, he couldn't deny the intoxicating allure of your power and the blissful release it provided. It was a guilty pleasure he couldn't resist, a secret aspect of his life that provided him with a sense of liberation he couldn't find anywhere else.
You knew absolutely nothing about Leon, except for his preferences.
He always liked the rough style. As a skilled dominatrix, you know how to please a man. Since he discovered you, he has requested to become your exclusive client, and the payment he has provided is sufficient to reserve your availability exclusively for him. Fortunately, you were familiar with his schedule, so you began working mostly at night, which suited him perfectly.
You have set up an entire dungeon in your basement. It was the perfect place to meet his needs exactly as he wanted it.
At first, seeing his physique made you think he would be a great dominant. However, you eventually found out that he was more of a submissive man. Completely bent over your knees, ready to obey your commands without hesitation. Most dungeons do not permit sexual intercourse between dominants and submissives, but for him, this dynamic does not adhere to such restrictions. Since you have a dungeon in your own home, you have decided to make some slight modifications to the rules.
Obviously, you have never had sex with him, but other aspects of your relationship work just fine.
Leon's footsteps echoed through the garden as he made his way towards the entrance of his hidden sanctuary. Each step was a solemn reminder of the mission that had just been concluded. The scent of leather and candle wax hung in the air, familiar and comforting. He pushed open the unassuming door at the end of the hallway, revealing a hidden secret world beyond.
The dungeon served as a sanctuary for him, a place where he could escape the burdens of his perilous existence. His eyes quickly adjusted to the dim lighting, and there you were, dressed in black leather, waiting for him in the center of the room. Your presence commands attention; your aura is a captivating blend of power and sensuality.
"Welcome back, Kennedy," you purred, your lips curling into a mischievous grin. "You're not late; you arrived just in time."
Leon's tense shoulders relaxed as he stepped further into the dungeon, the door clicking shut behind him. He locked eyes with you, and a silent understanding passed between the two of you. He shed his jacket, the leather creaking as he tossed it aside, revealing the tension that had built up in his muscles during the mission.
You moved towards him, the sound of your heels clicking against the cold stone floor, with a devious glint in your eyes. "You look like you've had a rough day, my dear," you said, as your fingers lightly traced the contours of his jaw. "But, you know, I'm here to take care of you."
"Yes, Mistress," he nodded, closing his eyes to savor your touch and emitting a slight moan.
"Strip now," you ordered him, and stepped back to prepare the rest of the room and your toys.
The words were both a promise and a command, and Leon nodded in agreement. He needed this - the sensation of control slipping away from his grasp, the catharsis of pain and pleasure intertwined. You led him to the St. Andrew's Cross, a symbol of his shared desire for submission and domination.
With practiced ease, you secured his wrists and ankles to the cross, using leather restraints to keep him in place. Leon's heart raced, his mind focused solely on the anticipation of what would come next. The room seemed to shrink, closing in around him, leaving only the two of them and the palpable tension in the air.
You leaned in, your lips brushing against his earlobe. "What would you like today, darling?" You whispered, asking your question.
"Take me to the edge, Mistress," Leon said, gazing at you with unwavering confidence.
"Very well," you nodded in agreement. "Remember the safe word, just in case."
Leon nodded once more and prepared himself for what was about to begin. He was waiting for the first strike to experience pleasure, but nothing happened. His eyes met yours, and he felt a shiver down his spine when he noticed the smile on your face.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" You approached him seductively, holding a flogger in your hands, your nails digging into his flesh.
"I forgot my collar, Mistress," he said, his breath heavy with the sudden realization that he had forgotten the only item he was permitted to wear. "I'm sorry, Mistress."
"Oh, bunny, you know we don't accept apologies," you said, biting his earlobe. "And do you know what this means?"
Leon nodded, biting his lip. He felt the first whip strike him hard, causing him to emit a loud moan. He tightly grips the leather restraints on his wrists, and the second blow leaves a red mark on his stomach. The third strike narrowly missed his cock and you can see him trembling as each blow compels him to seek relief from the agony of your flogging.
"Please, Mistress, forgive me," Leon begs, as you continue to flog him. Another strike, another groan.
"Have you learned your lesson, bunny?" You asked, delivering another whip to him, striking harder.
“Yes, Mistress. I did” Leon almost yelled, trying helplessly to avoid your strikes. His body was already red from the flogging. "Please, I won't forget it anymore."
You stopped, letting the flog aside. You took a leather collar from the drawer and placed it around his neck. His breath was heavy, and his entire body was shaking. He was indeed enjoying the anticipation of the punishment, although he had no idea what was about to happen. You untied him from the St. Andrews Cross, and he stood there, waiting for your next command.
"Stand in the center of the room," you commanded, holding a remote. He nods, walking with his naked, red body to the center of the dungeon.
You threw a silver spreader bar in his direction, and you didn't have to say it twice. Leon secured his ankles in the spreader bar, and once he was done, he glanced at you again. Silently, you pressed the button and then shackled his wrists to a drop-down ceiling bar. Pressing the button again, he stretched his arms in the air. The bondage dungeon is filled with furniture that enables you to attach him to any object in whichever manner you please.
Now he stands completely naked, with his ankles spread apart by a spreader bar and his arms stretched in the air, wearing nothing but his collar.
You stand before him, wearing a devilish smile on your lips. Suddenly, you firmly grasp his erect penis and apply pressure. You can see tears welling up in his sapphire-blue eyes as he bites his lip and tightly grips the shackles above his head. You squeeze it harder, and he gasps, yelping in pain. You paused for a moment, observing him. Another intense squeeze, another wave of pain, and he screams out loud. You finally release his cock and he exhales with relief, tears still streaming down his cheek.
"You're nothing but a sex toy. Look at you, so miserable," you said, as you walked around him and slapped his ass. "Such a naughty boy, desperate to be humiliated, aren't you?"
"Yes, Mistress," his voice trembles as you slap his ass.
"Your purpose is to provide fuckings, am I right?" You asked again, delivering another slap to him, causing his body to jerk.
"Yes, Mistress," Leon nods again, his body jerking with each slap against his sensitive skin.
"Who owns you, fuckboy?" You stepped closer, gripping his hair firmly, causing him to emit a soft groan.
"You do, Mistress," he quickly replies, his Adam's apple bobbing rapidly up and down.
"Do I own your cock as well?" You asked again, leaving love bites on his skin.
"Yes, Mistress, you do."
You take his cock again, smacking it harder and making him yelp again. Tears were already rolling down his cheeks once more. You walk to your box of instruments and retrieve the manuscript clips. You take one clamp, gently open it, and place it over his left nipple. Carefully close the clamp, ensuring that it does not cause any pain. He tries to hold his breath and keep his mouth shut while you repeat the same process on his right nipple.
"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll bear it all night," you wink at him, and he nods silently.
Then, your hand reached his cock again and you started to masturbate him. You can see his hands tightly gripping the shackles, and his breath growing heavier with each passing second. Leon began moaning, with each moan growing louder as you continued to stimulate him with your hands. And you keep masturbating him until you know he's close.
And then, you come to a complete stop, causing him to whine out loud.
"Bad boys don't get rewarded," you said, and pressed the button to lower the ceiling bar. "Kneel."
He obeys by kneeling down. The ceiling is high enough for him to stretch his arms in the air, and you are sitting directly in front of him. You don't have to say anything; he already knows what to do. Leon crawls between your legs and opens his mouth. He bends forward, his arms stretching upward before him. The restraints are not sufficient to allow him to approach you, and observing him beg for your pussy amuses you.
"Please, Mistress, allow me to pleasure you in my mouth” he begs, his voice filled with desperation as he fights back tears, inching closer to you.
His cock twitches and aches. He's desperate to be released, to ejaculate all over his body, longing to feel your touch. You keep teasing him by not allowing him to get closer to you, making him see your wide pussy open in front of him, yet denying him the ability to touch or engage with you.
"Please, I'm begging, Mistress," he pleads again, desperately trying to reach you.
"Such a pathetic, whining boy," you said, tightly gripping his jaw in your hands.
You released his wrists and ankles, instructing him to walk towards the bondage horse. He silently obeys you and walks straight to the corner of the room. With red ropes, you tied his arms and hands behind his back. Its shape is that of a half barrel with wide ledges and wings, covered in black leather. Leon positions his knees on each wing, and you proceed to shackle him once more, ensuring that he is securely locked on the edge of the frame. His collar is attached by chains on both sides to the ceiling bar, keeping his head up and facing forward.
"What do you deserve?" you ask, as you walk around the room and pick up your flogger once more.
"To be punished, Mistress," he responds, his eyes locked on the wall in front of him.
"Why?" you asked before striking him hard.
"Because I am a bad man," Leon says, his body jerking again with the whimpering.
You smiled, satisfied, and started to whip him until his entire back was red. When you're done with his back, you move to face him, squeezing his cock again. Leon is on the verge of tears, gasping and unable to control himself. In an instant, without your command, he ejaculates onto your hand. His entire face turns red.
"Did I say you could cum?" you asked him, squeezing his sensitive cock, causing him to whine in pain once more.
"No, Mistress. I'm sorry," he begs, tears falling down his face once more.
"Privilege revoked," you hissed, walking towards your torment box. Leon is visually impaired, but he sheds tears when he senses something cold around his cock. He knows what it is. "You'll come only when I say so."
You walk back to the corner of the room after locking the chastity cage on him. When you return, Leon flinches slightly as he feels your thumb pressing against him from behind. You uses oil and you're smearing it around his anus. A finger slips, then your thumb. Another finger, he already knows what's coming.
He feels the rubber sliding inside, and he moans again. He feels the initial pain, but he's okay with it. You slide it further, allowing the oil to lubricate him internally. You pull back the toy and gently begin a rhythmic back-and-forth fucking of his ass. You have precision and an obvious regular rhythm. Leon moans, closing his eyes and feeling the helplessness of his submission. You insert the toy into him, and he can hear you pressing a button.
It starts to vibrate inside his hole.
To keep him quiet, you place a ball gag in his mouth and leave him in his current state. He is tormented by a dildo in his anus, restrained by shackles and ropes, rendering him unable to move, resist, or voice any complaints. You sit, playing with the remote control of the device in your hands, adjusting the intensity to elicit either loud moans or soft whines from him.
The cock cage on him is painful, and he is aware of it. With his already aroused state, it becomes nearly impossible for him to cum without your consent, and he is aware that this is precisely what you desire. He is unable to move, but the vibration in his ass makes his flesh to ripple. It makes him shake his body. Leon moans again, whether from the pain caused by the cage or the vibration inside his ass. He shakes his head, the only movement he can make.
You press the button, and he sighs with relief, but not completely. You pump him again a few times and stop. You thrust into him quickly and forcefully, causing him to groan and moan. After some time, there is a final push, a powerful thrust that is enough to rock the bondage horse. He moans aloud again. You walk around the corner again and gently push something metallic, cold, and smooth inside his ass. Leon feels the object and thinks it's large, expanding inside him. Then, it pops in, causing a painful stretch that makes him scream again.
"Clean it," you tell him, pointing to his white semen on the leather bondage material. You unshackle his collar from the ceiling bar and his ankles from the restraints, but keep his arms tied with the ropes.
He obediently leans over from his waist until his tongue reaches the black leather. He licks it in wide swaths, gathering all his juices from his previous unauthorized release, leaving only his saliva behind.
You can see the color of his cock. He's so hard and sensitive. When Leon finishes cleaning the bondage horse, he kneels in front of you, waiting patiently. He is clearly struggling to hold back his orgasm, but at the same time, he is on the brink of climax.
"Desperate to cum, huh?” you teased, gently stimulating his sensitive nipples, eliciting another groan from him.
"Yes, Mistress," he says, his voice shaking once more.
You sat in an armchair in front of him, your legs spread apart, offering a tantalizing view of your glistening arousal. He doesn't move, but when he sees you nod, he knows what to do. He leans closer, and you can feel his tongue on your wet, sensitive, and swollen clit. He sucks you, savoring your taste, and moaning from the pleasure mixed with the slight pain he feels on his cock. You moan and grip his hair tightly, urging him to continue sucking you.
And when you reach your orgasm, Leon has to force himself to calm down, feeling your cunt on his face. His cock is hurting and you decide to please him in the appropriate manner.
“Color” you ask him, playfully tweaking his nipple.
"Green, Mistress," he says, trembling. He's lying.
"What color is it, bunny?" you asked him again, gripping the metal of his collar.
"Yellow, Mistress," Leon shakes. The pain in his cock is excruciating.
You released his cock from the cage, and he sighed with relief, only to gasp at your touch. He was very sensitive, and you started to masturbate him again. You took your magic wand and placed it under his dick, vibrating with intense power, while your other hand moved up and down on him. Leon can't last long. He's already too close to reaching orgasm. You, on the other hand, don't care. You continue to deliberate, his rhythm becoming tense.
"Go on, be a good boy and cum for your Mistress," you said, increasing your pace on him.
The words are enough. It emanates from his core and bursts out. His thighs and red belly shuddered first, as if he were being electrocuted. Then, it surged upward, causing his entire chest to shake as he let out a guttural moan, a mixture of pain and pleasure. Afterward, you removed the clips from his nipples, and he yelped and cried again. You also removed the plug from his anus, leaving it elsewhere.
Now, you have him standing at the end of the bondage horse again, and you instruct him to bend over and protrude his ass out. You tied him with the red ropes in a different manner, and he obeys you. This time, you take a flogger to his ass, almost caressing his cheeks with its sleek leather strands. Then, it comes out of nowhere.
The brutal spank of the cane striking his ass. He screams.
You cane him again, this time on his right ass cheek. He screams again and sobs. The third strike goes again. Leon yells.
You guide him to a nearby mirror and compel him to observe the three red marks on his ass.
He's crying. You had successfully led him to his edge, but you knew when to stop. You removed the gag from his mouth and untied the ropes that had left his arms almost purple. Then, you placed a robe on him. Aftercare is important, even in this type of situation.
"Are you okay?" you asked, leading him to the sofa in the opposite corner. "I know you wanted to be on the edge, but this is dangerous. Did something happen?"
"I'm fine, thanks," Leon says softly, although his entire body is in pain. "Just... don't worry, okay? I like it when you get rough with me."
"I'm not complaining, but are you sure you're okay?" you asked, embracing him and allowing his head to rest on your chest.
"I'm fine, trust me," he chuckles.
There is a moment of silence. Usually, he doesn't stay for aftercare. He gets what he wants and then leaves, but there's something different this time. You don't say anything, you decide to give him some space. This night was heavily different from the others, and you're not sure he's really alright.
“Can we do it again?” He lifts his head so he can see you. “But this time, can you blindfold me?”
You smirk. It's time for another round.
#leon s kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy x you#leon kennedy smut#leon s kennedy smut#leon smut#leon s kennedy x y/n#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy x reader smut#leon kennedy x y/n#leon scott kennedy x you#leon scott kennedy x reader#leon scott kennedy smut#leon s kennedy fanfiction#leon kennedy fanfic#leon kennedy x oc#resident evil x reader#resident evil smut#resident evil fanfiction#sub leon kennedy#leon scott kennedy#leon kennedy#leon s kennedy
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Wake Up Call
Summary: Mornings were absolutely divine, especially in the company of one sweetheart of a metalhead— Eddie Munson. Even if he wasnt much of a morning person. You show him just how good a morning can be when you're together.
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader
Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), fluff, blowjobs, oral sex (m receiving), morning sex, reader loves giving Eddie head, Eddie being a screamer, Eddie's morning voice, established relationship, face fucking, deep throating, crying during sex (not the reader), Eddie being a sweetheart, and a partidge in a pear tree.
Word count: I have no clue, babes, I wrote this on my phone 🥰
A/N: Holy shit. I am so self-conscious about this fic, you guys! I haven't posted a full length one-shot in so unbelievably long. I feel rusty. But! I'm posting it anyways! I still feel really good about this one. Anyway. Let me know what you think! Reblog, comment, send an ask, a carrier pigeon, a fax, a telegram, a kindly worded email— I would really love the feedback 🥰 it's nice to be back to writing, and I hope you love it as much as I do. Ok, I'll let you go now. I love you 💖
Kisses 💋
—K
The morning was still, a simple, peaceful hush hanging over the town of Hawkins, Indiana. Birds whistled their songs in a gentle voice, the trees barely rustling in the breeze as the world dreamt a little while longer. With the sun peeking over the horizon and Wayne already en route to work, the little trailer was serenity embodied.
You'd been up for a while doing nothing in particular as you waited for dawn to break. You loved watching the sun rise from Eddie's bed, the sunlight always seemed to pure shining through his curtains. With the new light slowly filling the room, you were finally able to properly see your boyfriend. Eddie lies beside you on his back, hands tossed across his chest haphazardly, his hair tossled carelessly around his face in a halo of chocolate curls and locks. The blanket that covers you both hung low on his hips, showing off the tattoos scattered across his alabaster skin, he ran a little hot at night and the summer heat was enough for him to toss the blankets aside. Your eyes trace the lovebites you left all along his exposed throat and the scratches along his meaty shoulder, a pleasant result of last night's vigorous activities.
The familiar surge of desire floods your body at the memory of last night, it sends a shiver up your bare spine. You bring one hand to his warm chest, drawing lazy lines as you scoot closer and closer to him. A smile tugs at your lips when Eddie twitches slightly, goosebumps pricking his skin like yours. Your hand glides lower and lower, you weren't in a hurry, no. There was more than enough time in the world for you two, right now.
As your fingers brush along the light dusting of hair on his tummy, Eddie can't help but shiver. Even in his sleep, Eddie was always so responsive; aching for your touch, your kisses, your love. He rolled his head to the side, breathing peacefully as he sleeps still. You watch his face for any signs of consciousness, when you find none, you chuckle softly. Your hand teases the edge of the blanket the covers his lower half. A prominent tent rests between his legs, the sight of it has you moaning softly. Your mouth watered with a hunger you knew well, you needed to taste him.
"G'morning, Princess," a raspy voice slurs. You heard the smile in his words well before you saw it. His face was soft from his slumber, eyes puffy but warm with love, his annoyingly charming smile lazily strung across his pink lips.
"Good morning," you whisper, bringing your hand back up to cup his cheek, leaning in so your lips brush against his ever so slightly. Eddie wastes no time closing the distance between you two. Eddie hums happily into the kiss when he feels your body melting into his, your legs tangling with his, his nornally bright voice was always unbearably deep and husky in the morning. The movement of his lips on yours distracts you enough from his arms slowly capturing your waist, holding you to him. He needed his morning kiss to function.
Finally, when breathing became a priority, Eddie relaxed his head back down on the pillow with a satisfied grin. Two rough hands slid across the bareness of your back soothingly as he looked up at you, he noticed the gleam in your eyes, even in the low light of early morning. The realization of your desire made his grin grow twice as big, his cock twitching excitedly with his heart.
"Whatcha lookin' at me like that for, pretty girl?" He teases, he knows exactly what you want. He just loves hearing you say it. You bite your plump lip to suppress a smirk, your hand leaving his cheek to float down his throat and chest.
"I wanna taste you, Eddie," you purr to him, not missing the way his pupils dilate at your confession, a shiver racking his body as your fingers tease the skin at the edge of the blanket once more. Your lips descend to his collarbones, sucking at the pale skin in the way you know drives him wild. "Please?"
"F-Fuck, yes. You can taste me, Princess," he whispers as if the air was knocked from his lungs. The devious pleased giggle you make against the curve of his neck is absolutely sinful, but Eddie can't help but grin wickedly with you. He feels your kisses deepen as you dip lower and lower, your hand finally cupping his morning wood gently— you always were a little tease.
The deep groan that rumbles in Eddie's chest when your warm fist surrounds his base echoes in the brightening room. Streaks of sunshine finally cutting through the blinds to illuminate your actions perfectly. Eddie lifts his head to watch your hand stroke him beneath the blanket, the duvet shrouding your movements, making it that much more erotic.
"Oh fucking hell, that's good," he groans, his hips pushing into your hand eagerly.
"Yeah?" You taunt softly, speeding your hand up ever so slightly. A surprised yelp breaks his deep moans when your teeth nip at the black widow spider inked into his chest, you give the demon head just below it a tender kiss with a pleased giggle before dropping lower and lower. The wet kisses you leave along his body has Eddie fisting the pillow beneath his head.
He fucking loved when you sucked him off, especially since you fucking loved doing it. The way you'd drop to your knees and take him into your mouth so happily, so eagerly— Eddie was wrapped around your little finger from now until the end of time.
"Jesus Christ," he sighs when you toss the blanket down and settle between his legs. You drag your free hand down his side, still steadily jerking him off with the other. You hum at the sight of his hard, throbbing dick, your hand slowing down to appreciate the way his shaft pulses. Your mouth waters to taste the beads of salty precum that ooze from him, but instead you latch on to his twitching thigh, biting the flesh there as you continue to teasingly stroke him.
"Mmmm," you moan, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment as you taste his skin, the heady scent of his manhood filling your senses. The strong yet lean muscle of Eddie's thigh tenses as you inch higher and higher. As much as he wants to believe you'll finally take him into your mouth, he knows better. His guess is proved right when you switched to his neglected thigh, opting to decorate it with hickeys and bites as you did the first one.
"Fuck— Princess, please, have mercy," he groans with a smile, his hands gripping the pillow a little harder. You chuckle and answer him with a kiss to the most recent hickey you were working on. Eddie watches as you finally bring your tongue to his head, he watches the pink muscles greedily clear away the drops of precum.
"O-Oh, fuck, yes," he moans as your lips encase his tip, his eyes fluttering. Yours stay on his face, enjoying the way his eyebrows furrow and crease with pleasure. With a slack jaw, Eddie lets out the pretties sounds you've ever heard; deep, throaty moans that bubbled from the pit of his chest and echoed throughout the unclean bedroom. His words slur together as you take more of his length into you, finding a slow and steady pace to bob your head.
This happened every single time, he couldn't believe how fucking good your mouth felt. How hot, how soft, how fucking wet you were. You moan as he fills your mouth, your hand not holding his base strokes his hip and inner thigh, knowing how sensitive he was there. The shivers you get in return tell you that he loves it. The vibrations of your moan has Eddie's hips twitching, stuffing more of himself into your throat.
"F-Fuck! Fucking hell!" He curses through his teeth, his eyes shut tight as he tries to calm down.
"Mmmmm," you moan again, watching as his face contorts once more.
"Jesus!" He shouts a little louder than intended, his eyes opening only to roll as you speed up ever so slightly. The sloppy sounds of his cock slowly fucking your mouth was going to drive him crazy. "Baby, ple— a-ah!— faster! Faster, God, please, faster!"
The rawness of his voice and his begging was more than enough to convince you. With a deep breath through your nose, you speed up. Your tongue flat against the underside of his shaft to guard him from your bottom teeth, and your hand moving from his base to cup his balls. The moment your soft hand comes into contact with his aching balls, Eddie does all he can do to keep from screaming; his balled up fist shoved into his mouth.
"Ohhhhmygod!" He cries from behind his hand as you play with his balls, his body writhes uncontrollably at the onslaught of indescribable pleasure. One, two, three more bobs of your head and you've swallowed him completely, your nose brushing against the patch of dark curls at his groin and his tip nestled deep in the heat of your throat. Unable to fight it anymore, Eddie's hand leaves the pillow to grip the back on your head fiercely, an unintelligible scream pitifully muffled by his fist.
The sounds erupting from your lover above you has arousal practically spilling from your untouched cunt. Your thighs rub together with need as Eddie's thighs tremble and spread for you. The grip he has on your head limits your movements, unable to pull off more than an inch or two, at best. In quick, jerking motions, he fucks your face eagerly as he listens to you gag around him. Your eyes, clouded with tears, flutter shut, allowing yourself to lose yourself in his pleasure.
Soon, you both find a rhythm. It's fast and dirty, primal, frenzied, lustful. Perfect. Eddie's deep moans raise in pitch, now sounding like a pitiful whimpering mess. Your own moans grow in frequency, knowing he's close to blowing his load down your throat, just like you want. The twitching of his cock signals his impending high.
"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—!" Water gathers at his lower lashes. He couldn't help himself.
Eddie's head slowly begins to lift off the bed, his abs contracting as the pleasure mounts higher and higher, his voice suddenly gone. His hand leaves his mouth to join the other on your head, his fingers going rigid, his eyes stare up at the ceiling in an unfocused gaze, chin tilted towards the heavens as his pretty brown orbs roll and flutter uncontrollably. The smart mouth that is quick with a joke or a witty comment is left hung open in a silent scream, he holds his breath, his entire body drawing painfully taught when the pleasure is suddenly too much for him to take.
The first rope of his hot seed shoots into your throat as Eddie goes still, tears spilling over. He swears on everything holy that he's ascended to heaven, his vision is white and blinded with bursts of light as you milk him dry. You pet his hip as he cums, swallowing his seed with eager gulps, his lungs burning with the lack of oxygen. Each time your throat contracts around his length, his muscles pull tighter.
Finally, the last bit of his cum is cast out from his body. The strength quickly drains from Eddie, his grip loosens from your hair as he falls back on to the mattress, his eyes drooping shut on their own accord. You release him with a pop, gasping to catch your own breath. Through the water in your eyes, you see Eddie's relaxed face, his body limp above you.
"Eddie?" You call softly, your voice gravelly from your throat being wrecked. When you get no response, you crawl up his body, taking note of his breathing and erratic heartbeat. He's out cold.
You can't help but laugh a little before gently petting his sweaty head, brushing his bangs off his sticky forehead. Eddie comes back to you softly tapping his cheek, his ears ring like a bitch but he can hear your melodious voice over the din.
"Eddie, baby, wake up, come on, open your eyes for me, honey," you sound far away, but your words get clearer and clearer. The first thing he sees is your relieved smile, and he just can't help but tiredly smile back. "Hi, there, handsome. You ok?"
"Huh-huh," he grumbles from deep in his chest, speaking was far too complicated for him right now. You had well and truly sucked him stupid. Sleepily, he nuzzles into your hand that now cradles his cheek.
"Ready for a nap, big boy?" You coo and pull the blanket over you both. He hums an affirmative and weakly slings an arm around your waist, holding you close to him. On instinct, you bury your face into his neck as you settle in beside him.
A nap couldn't hurt.
Comments and reblogs are always appreciated!
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#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fan fiction#eddie munson x reader smut#eddie munson#eddie munson x female!reader#eddie munson x you smut#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x fem!reader smut#eddie munson x female character#eddie munson x fem!reader#joseph quinn fic#jospeh quinn#stranger things x reader#stranger things fic#stranger things fan fic#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things#little lion literature
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Astarion x GN!Bard!Tav headcanons
Content warnings: Pure angst, Tav is dead, I literally had to take breaks from writing because I didn't want to cry in public
Summary: Headcanons for Astarion after Tav's death
•Astarion, who ended up with Bard!tav and kept his promise of loving them til their dying day, even after that.
•Astarion, who sang Tav's own songs to them on their last days.
•Astarion, who was more heartbroken than he's ever been when Tav died.
•Astarion, who despite that kept his promise to keep living after Tav was gone for at least another lifetime even if he never found another SO.
•Astarion, who was finally strong enough to clean up Tav's stuff after weeks had passed and found all of their sheet music and a small journal with lyrics.
•Astarion, who made sure to carry copies of Tav's work on his travels and hand them out to random musicians or music shops to keep their memory and work alive.
•Astarion, who learned the basics to Tav's instrument of choice or an instrument they always said they would've liked to play to feel closer to them.
•Astarion, who made sure to carry around either a photo of Tav (if those exist) or a small painting of the both of them to make sure he never forgets Tav's face like he did his (bonus points if Tav made it).
•Astarion, who selfishly kept the last thing Tav ever wrote for him to himself. It was unfinished, written on a paper full of annotations and crossed out ideas for lyrics or how the melody should go. After he learned your instrument he would try to decode the sheet of paper until he understood it and learned to play it since tav didn't get to play it for him.
Edit: Tell me why a few minutes after I posted this I saw the most beautiful sunset reflecting on the bus window and lighting up the isle. IT'S NOT FAIR HE DESERVES THE SUN
#astarion#astarion x tav#astarion angst#astarion baldurs gate#astarion x tav angst#astarion x reader#astarion x reader angst#baldur's gate 3#baldurs gate astarion#baldur's gate iii#baldurs gate angst
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Quite Miss Home
Had an idea. Wrote 2.3k words in a couple of hours. Pure fluff based on the James Arthur song. ❤️
“Helloooooo, Chicago!” Eddie yells into the mic, reveling in the roar he gets back from the audience.
It’s been ten years since it all; since the end of the world as he knew it and the beginning of something so much better. Corroded Coffin had taken off quickly, after the “earthquakes;” something about rising from the ashes like a phoenix, if Eddie had to guess, but he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, just enjoy what he’s given, and damn is he enjoying it.
“How are you?” He asks, grinning when the audience cheers again. “Alright, alright. Man, I’ll tell you, it’s fuckin’ awesome being here. But can I tell you a secret?” The audience roars again, and he grins as he takes his guitar off, hoisting it up. “Who’s this?”
“Sweetheart!” The crowd yells back.
“That’s right!” He quietly thanks the stagehand who darts up to grab it from him. “But it’s not my only sweetheart. In fact, my real sweetheart is at home. And this tour is so awesome, but I’m kinda starting to miss my sweetheart.”
“Aww,” the crowd says, and he grins softly at them.
“I know,” he says. “This next song is for my sweetheart. They’re at home because they get migraines, and tours aren’t very conducive to not getting migraines, so we both decided it would be better if they stayed home. So this next song isn’t Corroded Coffin’s normal sound. In fact-” he gestures at the stage behind him- “if you’ll notice, the rest of the boys aren’t up here anymore. This is an Eddie Munson original, and I want to thank them, from the bottom of my heart, for letting me be the dramatic sap I am, and letting me sing this song, on national television, for my sweetheart.” The stagehand comes up again, this time with an acoustic, and again Eddie thanks him. “So, sweetheart,” he says, facing the cameras, “this one’s for you.”
“I'm in the kitchen while you smoke outside. You're careful not to let the smoke inside. I always tell you it's poison, but I know it helps you take the edge off the day.”
Eddie knows exactly where Steve’s gonna be when he gets home from where he works part-time as a bartender. In through the front door, dropping his keys on the kitchen counter, straight through to the porch where Steve’s smoking.
“Y’know those things are poison,” he jokes, stealing it straight from Steve’s mouth and taking a drag before giving it back to him.
“I never want kids,” Steve says in answer. He’s a kindergarten teacher, so he comes home in one of two moods: he has the worst baby fever, or he never wants to see another child again.
“Yeah? What happened today?” Eddie asks, settling in close. He’s hungry, and was vaguely considering a stir fry, but instead he tucks in close as Steve takes another drag, preparing himself.
“Okay, so get this.”
“We get a drink before it's closing time, the one on High Street with the blinking sign. All these memories feel poignant. I won't be there to see the snow melt away.”
“Hey,” Eddie says, seeing someone settle at the bar in his periphery. “What can I get you?”
Then he actually turns to face the person, and-
Oh.
“Whiskey on the rocks,” Steve grins, leaning over the counter. “And maybe… something else? A little later?”
A thrill of heat rushes through Eddie, but he rolls his eyes with a grin and pushes Steve back by a palm to his forehead. “Keep it in your pants,” he admonishes, “I’m on the clock for the next four hours. Someone didn’t tell me they were gonna drop in, and I took my break twenty minutes ago.”
Steve hums. “Y’know, a dull knife could be very dangerous,” he says. “I certainly hope the one you’re using to cut limes is sharp.”
Oh.
Eddie grins, always on board, and leans over the counter. “Steve Harrington,” he purrs, delighting in the flush racing up his cheeks and down his neck. “What exactly are you insinuating?”
Steve sits there for a beat, drains his whiskey, and hops off the stool with a dangerous smirk. “Careful on your way out. It started snowing.”
“Oh, yeah, I been gone on business. I gotta make some money. I really feel the distance.”
“I’m gonna miss you,” Steve murmurs, clinging to Eddie like a koala. They’re still in bed, and Eddie doesn’t have to leave for another five hours. He’s gonna spend all the time he can in bed with Steve.
“I know, baby,” Eddie whispers back. “Tours are so long.”
“A month,” Steve agrees. “And then another three, after Indy.”
“But just think,” Eddie murmurs. “You’re still working, right? And those kids love you, and no matter what you say, I know you love them. And this tour is gonna be really good for us. We could get Wayne into a house, and help Hop with his payments-”
“He won’t accept the help.”
“No, but Joyce will,” Eddie grins. Steve laughs softly into his chest, then sighs and kisses a tattoo.
“I just wish I could be with you. I wish my head worked right.”
“Baby,” Eddie says firmly, “I love you. Regardless of if you can or can’t come with me. If you’re gonna be miserable the entire time—and we both know you would be, don’t even try to deny it—I’d be miserable, too.”
“I know,” Steve sighs.
“But hey. We’ve got time right now. And I’m not letting you move from this very spot until I’m gonna be late.”
Steve chuckles. “I’ll drag you out myself, Eds, much as I don’t want it I know you need to go.”
“I know,” Eddie says softly, turning so they’re both on their sides, facing each other. “But I don’t have to go right now. And I’m gonna spend as much time as I can right now with you.”
“I know.”
“No, baby,” Eddie says, eyes wide, “you don’t get it. I won’t even let you pee alone today.”
“So just like normal, then,” Steve grins.
Eddie squawks.
“And I quite miss home. And I miss you telling me to leave my shoes at the door 'cause you just swept the floor, and the dirt drives you crazy. Yeah, I quite miss home, 'cause it feels like poetry. When the rain falls down on the window while you're in my arms, and we're watching the TV. Yeah, I quite miss home. Yeah, I quite miss home.”
“Hey, Eds,” Steve calls as soon as Eddie steps foot inside. “Shoes off at the door, I just swept and I swear to God, if you track dirt into the house-”
Eddie chuckles, toeing his shoes off before walking further into the house. “I know, baby, it wreaks havoc on your bare feet to feel it. I get a free pass from that ‘cause I wear socks like a normal person.”
“Literally when have you ever been normal,” Steve says, “that’s not normal, you and your fuckin’ ice cube toes in the middle of the goddamn night on my calves-”
Eddie snickers. “‘S not my fault you’re a furnace, babe.”
“I will maintain that it is your fault until we can prove otherwise, actually.”
Eddie is in love with this man. “What the fuck does that mean?” He asks, laughing, wandering down the hallway and into their room, where Steve’s folding laundry. “Fuck, I love you.”
Steve grins and accepts a kiss. “I love you too.”
“I smell you cooking from the living room, and then I tell you that I love your food. I know it doesn't come easy, but you know it reminds me where I'm from.”
“Baby,” Eddie groans when he walks in. “Are you making the pork?”
“I’m trying,” Steve grumbles, frowning at the pan. “‘S not working. It’s not getting crispy like it should.”
Eddie walks closer, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and nuzzling the side of his head. “Looks amazing,” he murmurs. “And smells even better.”
Steve sighs. “I just wish it was easier for me.”
“You don’t have to do this, baby.”
“But I know you love it.”
“I mean, yeah. But I love anything you cook, Steve. Or anything you call in. It’s the effort, y’know? Even when you don’t have the energy for anything but calling in pizza.”
Steve smiles. “You’re a sap, y’know that?”
Eddie chuckles, kissing Steve’s neck. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been down bad for you for a while, baby.”
“Yeah?” Steve tilts his head to allow Eddie better access. “How long?”
Eddie hums, moving down Steve’s neck, worrying his collarbone. “Probably since the demobat, Big Boy.”
Steve moans as Eddie sucks a mark high on his neck, just beneath his ear. “Yeah?” He asks, high and breathy.
Eddie turns the heat off. “Yeah.” A little bite to Steve’s earlobe as his hand creeps around to the front of Steve’s jeans. “Lemme show you?”
Steve pants. “Dinner-”
“Can wait,” Eddie growls. “I want you tonight, baby.”
“Whoa, I'm in another city. I got nobody with me. And it just really hit me.”
“Hey, baby,” someone croons. Eddie thinks he recognizes her from the last stop on the tour.
“Um… hi?”
She giggles. “So coy. You don’t have to play like that with me, baby.”
Eddie narrows his eyes. “I’m not your baby.”
“Well, no,” she admits. “But you could be. Or I could be yours, if you’re more into being a Daddy.” She runs teasing fingers up Eddie’s arm.
He jerks his arm away. “Look, I’m sure you’re nice and all, but I’m really not looking-”
“Not yet you’re not,” she says.
“I don’t even know what that means- look, lady, I don’t want anything, okay?”
“Oh, come on, now-”
“I said no,” he says, harsher than he maybe should have, for the way she steps backs in shock. “Please leave,” he continues, gentler. “Or I’ll call security. And I don’t want to have to do that.”
She narrows her eyes at him. “You could’ve had a great lay.”
“I have a great lay,” he shoots back. “And I’m not willing to sacrifice it for a meaningless one-night-stand.” He sighs, runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sure you’re a great lady. But I’ve got my other half at home.”
“Your other half?” Steve interrupts over the phone, delight evident in his voice. “Christ, Eds, you’re a sap, I miss you so fuckin’ much.”
“I know, baby, I miss you too, now I was in the middle of a story.”
“That I quite miss home, and I miss you telling me to leave my shoes at the door 'cause you just swept the floor, and the dirt drives you crazy. Yeah, I quite miss home, 'cause it feels like poetry when the rain falls down on the window, while you're in my arms, and we're watching the TV.”
“Baby,” Eddie yells inside, “It’s raining lynxes and wolves!”
Steve laughs from the laundry room. “Why can’t you just say cats and dogs?”
“Because,” he stresses, “it’s not. It’s raining so hard, babe, it’s perfect couch-cuddling weather, can we watch a movie? Please?”
Steve smiles. “Dinner’s in the oven keeping warm. Labyrinth is in the player already.”
Eddie stills, staring at Steve, for a solid thirty seconds. “Fuck, I love you,” he murmurs. Steve grins and steals a kiss.
“Go get the food,” he says. “I’ll be there in just a minute, just gotta finishing moving this stuff from the washer to the dryer.”
He does, and Steve does, and soon the dirty dishes are abandoned on the coffee table and their feet are tucked up on the couch. Steve’s leaning on Eddie and Eddie’s hand is under his shirt, not for anything suggestive, simply just to feel.
He kisses Steve’s head with a content sigh, and Steve tilts his head back to look at him. “What’s up?”
“Y’know this is one of the things I miss the most when I’m touring?”
Steve smiles. “Just sitting watching a movie?”
“Well, anything with you, actually. But yeah. No expectations, just the movie, and the rain, and just. Us.”
Steve smiles and kisses his jaw. “This is one of the things I miss most when you’re on tour, too.”
“Yeah, I quite miss home. Yeah, I quite miss home. And I quite miss home. Yeah, I miss you telling me to leave my shoes at the door 'cause you just swept the floor and the dirt drives you crazy. Oh, I just miss home, no, no, 'cause it feels like poetry, as the rain falls down on the window while you're in my arms and we're watching the TV. Oh, I miss home, yeah, I quite miss home, no. Oh, I quite miss home. Yeah, yeah, I quite miss home.”
The last strum reverberates through the silent auditorium. Then, an anguished groan. “What the fuck, why are you perfect?”
Eddie laughs along with the rest of the crowd. “That’s quite the compliment, but no, my sweetheart will be the first to tell you I’m anything but perfect.”
Three and a half weeks later, Steve slams into him as he’s walking into the house. “Oh,” he says, delighted. “Hi, baby.”
“Fuck you,” Steve says, “fuck you and your song, I swear to God, Eds-” he tugs on Eddie’s shirt, pulling him away from the door, and Eddie chuckles.
“Baby, my shoes, the floors-”
“Fuck your shoes,” Steve growls. “Fuck the floors. If I’m not naked in bed in the next thirty seconds-”
Eddie grins and picks him up. “Say no more,” he murmurs into Steve’s ear, taking purposeful strides toward the bedroom.
As he kicks the door shut, he has one thought: This is my favorite part of coming home.
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Also tagging @finntheehumaneater and @gloomysoup because I figure you might like it ❤️
#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#rock star Eddie#bartender Eddie#kindergarten teacher Steve#domestic fluff#quite miss home#James Arthur#song fic#starambles
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Kento Nanami and his wife losing their unborn child in Shibuya (major tw!)
Pairing: husband!Nanami x fem!reader
Word Count: 1,5k
Synopsis: It seemed like a normal evening when you passed out on the couch, not aware of Haruta sneaking into your shared apartment until he pierces his blade through your pregnant stomach. How will your husband react, finding out what happened to you?
Warning: MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING!, if you feel uncomfortable with child loss or it triggers you in some way, please don't read this, heavy violence, heaviest angst but comfort (bc Nanami is the best husband ever), didn't proofread this because it hurts my soul, please note that I never experienced something like that and wrote it out of stories from family and it might be bad
This is like the bad ending to Haruta seeking revenge on Nanami's heavy pregnant wife. You can find it here
Thank you @wifenanami for breaking our heart (I love your requests babe) 😭
Your mind is a blur when you open your aching lids against a harsh light. Damn, everything hurts, you feel like someone has stabbed you over and over again. Your stomach aches so bad…why? The last thing you remember is…
A toe-curling scream coming out of your own mouth. Hands that keep you from falling to the ground. Darkness, unimaginable agony, grief. But why? What happened? Out of instinct, your hands wander to your belly. Weren’t you at home passed out on the couch with your heavy belly laying on the side, waiting for your husband to come back to you?
You were, but there’s something else…
Suddenly, a wave of memories washes over you, memories that make your whole body tremble with overflooding emotions.
“I-I can’t feel her anymore. Shoko, I can’t feel her, she isn’t moving!”, you cry on top of your lungs, hands roaming around your blood-soaked stomach in a desperate attempt to find a heartbeat.
You weren’t fast enough. The minute that blond-haired man with the ugly ponytail stumbled into your apartment and shot a sword directly through your belly, you were lost at words, lost at actions, lost at control. As if frozen in place, you watched as he pierced through you over and over again, your blood spilling onto the cold marble floor, discolouring everything in your crimson blood within seconds.
And hers. Your precious daughter. It was only a matter of time said Shoko the other day. A matter of time until you’d be finally able to hold her in your arms, a matter of time to see your husband putting her to sleep.
But time ran out for both of you.
“Send my best wishes to your husband! Well, you probably can’t do that anymore though…See ya!”
You can’t remember what happened next. How did you even manage to let Shoko know that you’re injured? It doesn’t matter anyway. The look of pure horror on her face was enough for you to know that it’s too late.
“Y-you…you need to save her”, you hush, tears now taking your sight completely.
You are nothing but weak. Too weak to defend yourself, too fucking weak to even move an inch when someone attacks you.
Too weak to save the life of your daughter.
Your daughter…
“Tell me she’s okay”, you mumble into the light above you over and over like a prayer.
Maybe all of this was nothing but a bad dream. Maybe Shoko was really able to use her reversed technique on both you and your precious daughter. Maybe she’s laying in her father’s arms right now, safe and sound. Her father…where is your husband? Is he alright?
“I’m so sorry, (y/n). I tried everything I could but…I couldn’t save her, she was already dead when I arrived…”
“No”, you interrupt her immediately.
You hold your breath. How often did you imagine what she might look like? Your little angel. Oh, you were so excited when you found out you’re expecting your first child back then, Kento was so overwhelmed that he even cried. She was the blessing in a world full of curses, your little ray on sunshine in the dark.
She…She can be dead…
“You were there, right? You saved both of us, right?”
Shoko leans down towards you. And for the first time since knowing her, you see her cry. Not only a single tear runs down her face, but a never-ending waterfall while she holds onto your shaky hand.
You feel numb, want to laugh and cry at the same time, want to scream and to stay silent all at once. This…This can’t be reality. This isn’t how it’s supposed to turn out. You’ve read enough books to know how happy endings work, that the people who deserve it will always find happiness.
“My darling.”
His voice catches you off guard, makes your glossy eyes widen and heartbeat pick up. This is him, without any doubt. Your husband is here.
Gently, he grabs your other hand and leans forwards.
Your breath hitches in an instant.
“Kento…”
Half of his body is burned, bruises cover his gorgeous face. But the worst thing is the unwavering sadness that gleams in his orbs. It hits you like a wall.
The things you saw, Shoko’s words.
Everything is true.
You lost your child at Shibuya.
“I’m so sorry, (y/n). Everything is my fault. I should have saved you, I should have stayed with you, I should have killed him…I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry…”
And then he breaks down on the side of the bed you’re laying in, head pressed against the soft mattress while crying so horribly that you feel like dying right on the spot.
This, everything that happened…Everything is only your fault. You should have listened when he instructed you to stay at Jujutsu High, you should have locked the door like he always said. You are not only responsible for getting hurt, but also for losing the way too young life of your unborn daughter.
She had her whole life ahead of her. Her first steps, her first time saying “dada”, your precious husband buying her clothes, bringing her to school on her first day, comforting her when he first boy breaks her heart only to scare this poor boy to death…
You didn’t only kill her, but her whole future. And Kento’s on top.
“How are you feeling, love? Are you still in pain?”
You don’t even dare to look at him, numb eyes just staring at the ceiling. No, you don’t deserve this man kneeling in front of you, you don’t deserve him even talking to you.
“You should leave.”
Thick silence hangs in the air, Kento’s eyes darted towards you in sheer disbelief. Why would you ever suggest something like that? When he woke up, the first thing on his mind was you. When Shoko told him what happened, that your daughter died and she isn’t sure if you’ll make it, it felt as if a part of himself is vanishing. You, the love of his life, the baby both of you waited for…
“I will never leave your side, love. Not when we both need each other more than ever”, he replies as calmly as possible.
“Why would you say that when I’m the one who killed your daughter?”
Your words hit him with full force, tear the ground from under his feet. It already hurts enough to know you lost your little angel in than senseless battle to that disgusting creature. But hearing that you make yourself responsible for what happened, that you think he doesn’t want to be with you anymore…
“Look at me.”
Carefully, he cups your cheek with his large hand, forcing you to return his gaze. The empty look in your eyes makes him tear up all over again.
This is so unfair, so unbelievable cruel. Isn’t it enough that you’ve lost your child? Why are you plaguing your mind with blaming yourself for that tragedy, why are you even thinking he’ll leave you?
“Let me tell you from the bottom of my heart that I love you more than ever. Let me promise you that I’ll never leave your side, no matter how numb you feel, no matter how often the pain gets overwhelming. Let me tell you that we’ll get through this together. Because you are my wife, (y/n). And even though it rips me apart to know that we’ve lost our daughter to this fucker, I will always be thankful that you survived. You did so well. I’m beyond proud that you’ve managed to call Shoko, that you pushed through and fought for your life. I will NEVER blame you for what happened at Shibuya. And I will love you through everything.”
“Kento…I miss her so much”, you breathe against his hand with so much grief in your voice that it takes him all his strength so not break down all over again.
“I miss her too, darling. But she’s always with us, she’ll never leave our side”, he whispers gently.
“I don’t deserve you…You, you are injured yourself. What happened to you?”
“Nothing but a few scratches. Let me stay by your side, okay? I never want to leave you alone again, (y/n).”
You can’t contain yourself any longer, it seems like the world around you collapses as you let yourself fall into your husband’s arms. Everything is too much, all the grief, all the sadness seems to swallow you whole. But oh does it feel good to lay against his chest, to feel his fingertips stroke your hair gently.
“I will always stay by your side. And so does our little angel.”
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❊｜yuuji x ocd!reader. tw: mention of intrusive thoughts, 527 words, just a comfort/vent thing i wrote bc if anyone knows what it's like to have pure and raw evil in your head it's him. sending love to all my ocd girlies out there
bf!yuuji is protective over you despite knowing very well you're a strong woman and enroll jujutsu just as he does. he can't help it, you're adorable in his eyes so babying you is a regular occurrence. and yet...
bf!yuuji opens up to you about how horrible it actually feels to share a body with a curse like sukuna. he always makes it seem like he's fine with it, like his life has gone on like normal, but the truth is it's mentally scarring in multiple ways. "sukuna is constantly lurking," he tells you, "and he just says... fucked up shit sometimes." he shares with you the incredible guilt that weighs on his chest whenever sukuna acts perverted or violent, how he blames himself for it because it's happening in his body, even though he knows that technically none of it is his fault.
bf!yuuji who tells you he feels incredibly tired and lonely, even with his girlfriend and precious friends by his side. it feels lonely yet crowded in his head and he can't stand the fear that one day he'll lose control of his body entirely.
bf!yuuji who shares with you that even though he's protective and wants to shield you, he's more scared of himself than anything. he's horrified of hurting you, his friends, his teachers.
bf!yuuji who thinks it's cute when you say you understand him - thinking you're just trying to comfort him and failing, but then is actually shocked when you reveal your disorder to him.
bf!yuuji who hugs you as tightly as he can when he realises you feel the exact fucking same as him, despite there being different reasons for it. he doesn't find it funny when you let out a dry laugh and joke "if you think sukuna's lurking in your brain now, wait for the years to come."
bf!yuuji who wants to keep you caged in his arms and comfort you forever when you confess your occasional false (and lack of) memories, and is moved when you start tearing up for him, because in his brain, nobody else would understand. but now he knows it's nobody except his soulmate.
bf!yuuji who feels guilty that it comforts him to hear his lover share the same troubles, and closes his eyes to relax when you kiss his temple softly and whisper to him that "no matter what happens, you're not alone in this, yuuji. there are other people like us, even if they have different circumstances."
bf!yuuji who falls asleep next to you that night, his arms embracing you and both your legs tangled together, your faces dry and salty from crying and sobbing in each other's arms.
bf!yuuji who loves you so much he feels like bursting, and couldn't be happier to reveal all parts of himself to you, trusting you with his heart and soul and not caring if you want to crush it or cherish it.
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#yuuji itadori#yuuji x reader#jjk yuuji#yuuji comfort#fluff#slight angst#slight vent#fanfiction#jjk fanfic#jjk fanfiction#ryomen sukuna#sukuna ryomen
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