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vixstarria · 4 months

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Mark me as yours

This takes place immediately after and is interlinked with 'Missionary with the lights off' but from Astarion's rather than Tav's POV - check it out if you haven't already, the fics complement each other.

Soft sassy Astarion, F!Tav, Gale, minor appearances by other origin characters, Astarion POV

Fluff, humour, banter, pining, non-explicit sexual references

A day in camp in the life of Astarion. Features brooding, sewing, doing laundry, being dramatic, engaging in improper use of archmage of Waterdeep, reading erotica, and more!

Approx. 2,000 words

You frowned at the stuffed bear you held in your hands, weighing up your desire to showcase your skills against the absurdity of the task at hand.

The whole thing was coming apart and needed to be washed and restuffed if you were to do this properly. What was inside, anyway? Fur..? You supposed you could go hunt something furry. Or maybe save yourself the time and just give Scratch a quick partial shave, he wouldn’t mind – the mutt lying at your feet was stupid enough to like you. To prefer you over anyone else, in fact.

You reached down to give him a fond, absentminded pet.

And then there was the matter of not letting it burn to a crisp the moment Karlach touched it.

“Is there a flame ward enchantment on this..? Can you reapply it?” you asked Gale, who was nearby at his usual spot by the fire, concocting something edible for the rest of your group.

“There is and I sure can,” he replied.

Great. You had gotten yourself into a group project with the wizard to rescue a teddy bear.

“Don’t tell me this is what Wyll was so concerned about earlier...” Tav had finally made it out of your tent and sat down next to you, looking somewhat less disheveled than how you’d left her.

“The bag of holding finally tore. Naturally I was the only one competent enough to fix it.”

You gestured with your thumb towards a towering pile of assorted crap that Wyll and Lae’zel were still sifting through: Lae’zel inspecting and setting aside any weapons and armour she deemed worth keeping, and Wyll sorting through an array of scrolls and potions no one was ever going to use, or would forget were in your possession if the need for them ever did arise.

“Darling, this is your fault, you know,” you added. “Must you pick up everything?”

“Karlach made me do it. Also I don’t know what you’re talking about, I am prudence and sensibility personified,” she said.

“You’re uh... You’re also bleeding,” Gale said, pointing at her neck.

A trail of blood had started running down from the puncture wounds, which must have reopened.

Shit.

Before you could reason yourself out of it, your instincts kicked in and you pressed your mouth against her neck, licking the blood off. By the gods, she actually leaned into you as you did that, not away. You glimpsed a guilty, sheepish smile she threw at Gale, as you pulled away.

“Idiot... Here, apply pressure, I’ll get the amulet,” you said.

“I’m the idiot?! You’re the one who ran off to resolve a sewing emergency, like a good little seamstress, before sorting me out!”

You strode over to your tent, in part to grab the amulet of Silvanus, in part to discreetly tuck away the erection that had immediately started developing as soon as you tasted her blood.

Hells, am I 239 or 15? you thought, annoyed with yourself.

“An amulet? I was wondering why you’d stopped visiting me in the mornings...” you heard from Shadowheart.

“We have a system,” Tav replied.

“Clearly,” laughed Shadowheart.

A scene from the night sprung up in your mind as you went about your day:

She’d fallen asleep on your shoulder, half lying on you, her nose buried in your neck.

It was... nice. Really nice. And you didn’t think this bizarre scenario would ever happen again.

And yet, pleasant as it was, she still felt too far. You needed to feel her closer. Perhaps you were being greedy, but after all these years, why should you get anything less than exactly what you wanted?

Carefully, very carefully lest she stir awake and leave, you rolled over onto your side, holding her against you.

She was still asleep. Good...

You cautiously slipped lower and lower until your head was at her chest, delicately wrapping your arms around her torso.

Then she stirred.

Shit.

Without waking, she sighed, drawing you into a tight embrace, clutching you against her chest, complete with throwing a leg over your hips to pull you even closer.

You finally relaxed, your arms wrapped around her waist.

Perfect...

She felt so warm... She smelled of comfort.

You could indulge in this for the night. You would wake up before she did anyway.

You drifted away, lulled by the beating of her heart.

You didn’t have any nightmares that night.

“Is your boyfriend coming?” you heard Karlach somewhere in the distance.

You cringed at the juvenile term. Still, you were curious how she would answer.

“He’s on laundry duty,” she responded. “Just us gals today.”

“So your idea of doing washing is to pawn everything off to me,” said Gale.

“Vampires and running water, remember,” you said. “Also you don’t look like you’re exerting an awfully large amount of effort yourself... Although I must admit, this is ingenious.” A little flattery wouldn’t hurt.

Gale sat at a riverbank at a deeper section of the river. Some sheets and clothing were being tossed and spun in a small bubbling whirlpool within the water, together with foaming slivers of soap.

“Surely few archmages possess such finesse and creativity?” you continued.

Gale sighed and motioned for you to throw your bundle in as well, expanding the whirlpool.

“Just toss your shirt in too, it's splattered with blood,” Gale added wearily.

Her scent lingered on it. The last thing you wanted was to wash it off.

You pulled the shirt over your head and hurled it into the whirlpool.

“Not Tav’s creative nailwork, I presume..?” Gale asked with a wince, looking at your back.

“Nope” was all you said, as you pulled a book out from your pocket, making yourself comfortable on the bank. To his credit, the wizard did not probe further.

‘Mark me as yours’

Those words had been echoing in your mind over and over all day.

It couldn’t have meant anything.

A little expression of some vampire fetishism finally poking through – you shouldn’t have expected any different from her, she did offer you her blood consistently, not even asking for anything in return.

Still, you’d felt like something inside you might burst from your desire and thrill when you heard those words.

And then everything that followed after...

You had actually lost yourself for a short while. Not dissociated and detached. Lost yourself. In bliss. In the scent of her skin, in the sounds of her need for you, in the sensation of her blood merging with yours and flowing through your veins.

And now she was walking around somewhere, with telltale bitemarks on her neck for all the world to see. Scandalous...

No, it couldn’t have meant anything.

‘Mark me as yours’

Still... What a pleasant little fantasy...

‘Yours’

“You’ve been smiling at that page for ten minutes straight now,” Gale’s voice snapped you out of your musings.

“It’s my favourite page,” you retorted.

“What’s it about?” he asked snidely after a short pause.

“I have no idea,” you confessed, begrudgingly, snapping the book shut. If the wizard knew what was best for him, he would abstain from any further comments.

“She’s quite fond of you,” Gale said sombrely after another pause.

“Is this about to turn into one of those ‘You break her heart – I'll break your face’ talks?” you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Oh gods no,” Gale laughed. "No, I would go straight to incineration... You just strike me as the type that needs to have the obvious spelled out for them.”

“I am not entering this type of discourse with someone who’s presently washing my spend off my bed sheets,” you said, laying back and shutting your eyes, to bask in the sun. No answer followed.

Not even a minute had passed when a shadow fell over you.

Odd, you thought. There hadn’t been a single cloud in the sky.

You opened your eyes to see a giant water bubble hovering a few meters above you. Was that... a bedsheet floating in the middle..?

Worth it, you thought just as the undulating bubble spilt and crashed over you.

You coughed and spat, trying to untangle yourself from the sheet, as the unleashed torrent nearly swept you off the bank. And yet, above all else, you found yourself curious.

The water had no longer been running as part of the river, true, but given its sheer volume and the velocity at which it hit you, it should have hurt more than merely your pride.

You made it to the edge of the bank, and cautiously dipped a finger in.

Nothing...

You proceeded to submerge your hand, then your entire forearm, to your elbow.

Nothing.

Of all things... Why this? Why not your reflection? Why not the blood craving? Oh well. Beggars, choosers...

You were laughing.

“This tadpole,” you turned and shouted at Gale, unabashedly stripping yourself of your pants, as Gale turned away, muttering something about going blind, “is the best thing that’s happened to me in centuries!”

The best? Maybe second best? It had some tight competition, but you supposed nothing would have been possible without it, so it reigned supreme.

You leaped into the river, diving and letting the gentle current carry you downstream for a while.

You knew what you would be doing later that evening with her.

“What have you got there?”

She slid onto your lap like a cat that refused to take ‘no’ for an answer as it sought attention. You had been idling away your time by your tent, with some pulp you had picked up earlier. The rest of the group had been drinking and roasting something at the campfire.

“Trash. Disappointingly boring trash, this time,” you answered.

“No pulsating flesh tunnels in this one?”

“Alas... There were not one but two mentions of ‘velvet-wrapped steel’ however, and plenty of ‘sword-sheathing’.”

“To the hilt?”

“Is there any other way?”

“Wouldn’t want to sheathe it only partially, I suppose...” she mused. “Come join us. We found some half-decent wine. And you don’t have to be alone all the time, you know.”

“Spare me, I’ve had enough of Gale’s lectures and Wyll’s tales for the day. And besides, ugh, all those chewing noises!” You made a gagging sound.

None of them want me there.

“Oh don’t be such a delicate princess,” she rolled her eyes. “How’s this: it’s our joint meal time. It would be rude and completely unfair to exclude anyone. You should sit down with everyone, bite down on my wrist and make a great deal of slurping.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Delightful. Simply delightful.

“It will be funny!”

“I fear you might be the only one laughing, darling.”

That is hilarious, I can just imagine Gale squealing or getting sick.

“Is there anyone else you’d care to make laugh?” she asked with a slight upturn of her lips.

Not in the least.

“I could die again knowing I have accomplished something if I ever make Lae’zel laugh. But perish the thought – I am perfectly happy right here with my literature.”

“Well, if you don’t want to join the group, perhaps I will stay and you can...” She snatched the book from your hands and tossed it aside, leaning in and bringing her lips up to your ear. “...Release your kraken in my field of rose petals,” she purred in a sultry voice.

“Stop,” you choked back a snicker.

“Get tangled up in my beef curtains?” she continued with the same tone.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Sink your meat shaft in my cream tart!” she persevered.

“By the gods, woman, I am never having sex with your again.”

“Suckle the nectar from my weeping core!”

“Alright, fine, I’ll go, anything is better than this.” You got up, pushing her off your lap.

“Taste my forbidden, oozing fruit, Astarion!” she cried out from the ground behind you as you covered your ears and shouted “LALALALA”, making your way towards the campfire.

You would endure the prattle of your companions.

Then you would take her for a moonlit swim in the river.

Then you would see if she might spend the whole night in your arms again.

Perhaps she could sleep in your shirt and leave her scent on it again – it was foolish to sleep completely in the nude out in the wild after all, what if there were intruders?

Everything was going according to plan, you reminded yourself.

~~~~~

Next in series - Down by the river

Series master list

AO3

Tags: @littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny

Also @spacebarbarianweird - you haven't asked for a tag but sounded interested

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion x tav #astarion romance #astarion x reader #astarion POV #gale dekarios #bloodweave more like beefwave #archmage of waterdeep as a washing machine #the narrator may be somewhat unreliable #reflections on author's own inventory management

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bluessmutifyplaylist · 11 days

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i am in desperate need of smutty lilia and idia x reader in which it ends up with taking their cocks and giving up on gaming

I don’t really know what this was saying, so I decided to do my own interpretation? I also decided to leave them separate?

Warnings: 18+, Gender-Ambiguous!Reader, oral (character receiving)/blowjob, under the desk situation, pre-established relationship, subby!Idia, dom!Lilia (you give him a blowjob while he’s unmuted… so public?)

Idia Shroud

“Just one more game…” You let out another sigh as you laid on his bed. He said that so many times since you arrived at Ignihyde. You were feeling needy… horny… and attention-starved. So what did you do? You got an idea.

While Idia was locking in on his game, you sneakily got down on the floor and crawled underneath his desk. You were careful to not disturb him… until you put your hands on his thighs.

He yelped slightly in surprise, and when he looked under his desk and saw you with that sinister… sexy grin… he’s only ever seen this happen in porn videos! “W-What are you doing?!” His hair went bright red, as did his face, and his stuttering only got worse when you pulled down his sweatpants.

You always knew that Idia was on the bigger side… always giving big-dick-loser energy… but damn. It was on the limper side right now, but it still had some heft to it. Taking it into your hand, you were able to feel it twitch… and damn if it didn’t make your mouth water.

“P…P-Please…” His whimpers as you started pumping your hand turned you on. He was lucky to have his mic muted… but he already died in-game. It didn’t matter, though, because his significant other was currently jerking him off.

Leaning forward, you put his tip against your tongue, and you would have thought that Idia saw the Heavens. As you started sucking, you were basically taking his soul with it. It took a bit of work to adjust to his size, and you knew your jaw was going to be sore… but his moans were worth it.

Swirling your tongue on the tip before diving in… it tasted not at all like you expected. He definitely kept himself cleaned… maybe he was preparing for something like this to happen. Your mouth started filling with saliva to accommodate for his size, and that’s when he started thrusting.

“Oh, fuck…”

He gripped the arms of his chair as his hips started moving up, jerking his cock into your mouth. It wasn’t choking you… it was actually quite pleasant as you got to really enjoy the taste of his precum.

It wasn’t long until he was busting a load into your mouth. A raspy whimper, and you felt your mouth be filled with warm cum. It was fairly sticky going down, and it had a somewhat salty taste. It wasn’t surprising, given his poor diet, but it wasn’t absolutely horrible.

Licking your lips and smiling, you look up at Idia, and he was panting as he released his grip on his chair.

Lilia Vanrouge

The second you crawled under his desk, he knew what you were doing. He didn’t even give you the courtesy of him muting himself. Everyone in the chat was going to hear him praising you while you suck his cock.

As you unzipped his pants, you were teasing him about how it probably looked ancient… only to be met with a very hard, very angry-looking dick… and your mouth immediately wanted it in your mouth.

“Are you going to be a good Prefect and suck the General off?” He tilts his head with a smirk, muting his computer. Never in this time did he mute his mic.

You had no idea what sorcery he was using… but quicker than you can say “Grimm’s annoying”, you had Lilia’s cock in your mouth.

There must have been an aphrodisiac in the air because you nearly immediately became cockdrunk. Within five minutes, you were drooling over Lilia’s cock. He had his hand on the back of your head as he thrust into your mouth, making you choke.

His member hit the back of your throat as he kept thrusting, and he chuckled lowly as he saw you struggling for air. “Are you about to tap out, Prefect? Is that perfect little mouth of yours growing tired? Oh, you poor dear… Perhaps you ought to let me take care of it…” He giggled softly as he held you still while he continued thrusting into your mouth, not letting you take a break until he was shooting his cum down your throat, forcing you to swallow all of it.

“I hope I wasn’t away too long…” He said into his mic as he resumed his game, much to your dismay… and arousal.

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wandererluvr · 5 months

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hiii its my first time asking (i really love your writings style <33)

could you write a nsfw where reader and scara/wanderer are flirting/exchanging pick up lines and reader decides to say something naughty?

reader would be like "are you ice cream? cause i’d lick you up till your done" and laugh about it thinking it'll make scara/wanderer flustered, but he just smirks are us as says "Oh that was smooth. Although, I must admit... I have a feeling I would be the one doing all the licking." hehehehe

If this was late, I humbly apologize. More importantly, I’ve risen from the dead. So, here’s some smut 😊

Scaramouche x Fem! Reader Smut

Minors, DNI. I can’t exactly stop you, but it’s safer not to interact.

Warnings: Flirtiness, 69, might be ooc

It was only a joke, you swore about it. Some flirting thrown around and whatnot, but how exactly did it end up being a steamy oral sex session? Ah, let’s recall, shall we?

Out of boredom, you started flirting with Scaramouche. You said somewhat intimate flirts, but Scaramouche couldn’t help but take it so seriously, as if he were a beast who’s craving was pleasure. “Hey”, you said. “What?”, Scaramouche replies in a bothered tone.

“Are you ice cream? ‘Cause I’d lick you all up ‘till you’re done”, you seductively say in a manner that wasn’t that serious.

“Smooth… but, I'm afraid I'll be doing all the licking~”, Scaramouche unexpectedly replies. You were utterly speechless, but attracted at the same time.

“Do you want to… test it out?”, Scaramouche says slowly, as if he were trying to seduce you into having oral sex with him.

You stammer, you didn’t know what to say. But, you were certain that you wouldn’t regret accepting his offer.

“There’s no one around. We could… you know, in my room”, he says quite nonchalantly. Of course, the head-over-heels gal that you are, you accepted.

Now, your head was hazy and messed up, as you ended up in a 69 position with Scaramouche. His voice was low and husky as he groans in pleasure at the taste of your slick folds, muttering “delicious” and “more” every now and then.

Of course, you were also busy with resisting your building orgasm as you sucked at his thick and long length, trying to give him the same skyrocketing pleasure he’s giving you.

Lewdly wet sounds and heavy pants can be heard, as Scaramouche continues to lick at your wet folds, circling his tongue around your clit and inserting his tongue inside of you. He loved how you tasted, so he devoured and sucked all of the slick your tight walls had to offer.

Suddenly, you could feel an oddly pleasant feeling building up on your stomach.

“Hngh- Hah! S-Scaramouche, ‘m gonna- gonna cum~!”, you whimpered out in between moans.

Scaramouche lets out a low groan of pleasure as he sped up his licking and sucking at your wet folds.

“Yeah…? Ngh~”, Scaramouche moaned out as he feels his orgasm approaching as well when you sucked at his tip harder, feeling his length twitch.

“Cum all over me then~ Hah~! Then, swallow my seed…”, he moans out.

Your moans become more desperate, and you prepare yourself to swallow his hot seed.

“Hngh- ah~! Fuck, fuck, you’re sucking me so good~! Ah~!”, Scaramouche praises you.

For some reason, you found his moans arousing, and he sped up his licking, so you were definitely going to orgasm all over his mouth.

“Mph~!”, you muffle as you suck his length. You feel a skyrocketing pelasure as you orgasm all over Scaramouche’s mouth, and he shoots his hot seed into your mouth as well.

Panting heavily, Scaramouche licks you all up and swallows all of your cum. Of course, you swallowed his hot, salty seed as well.

“Hah, you- *pant*, you taste good…~”, Scaramouche says smoothly in a sweet dulcet tone.

“*Pant*, y-you do as well~”, you reply.

(You were doing your best not to collapse onto him out of the relief from your orgasm, as well as your legs trembling from pleasure.)

That’s all, thank you :) I hope you all enjoyed it, consider it as a treat commemorating my return to the deep depths of Tumblr fanfiction 🤭 (It’s my vacation.)

i do appreciate your requests, so please do request more often. I don’t get ideas that frequently now, so i would very much appreciate tailoring to your requests. See you next time!

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cinnamonest · 10 months

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Yandere Profile - Kaveh

Happy birthday baby boy. Angel. Blessed boy. I want to hold his face in my hands and squish. I love a man that's just a lil bit pathetic, as all men should be. If I can't occasionally point at a man and laugh what's even the point

(Also I added a question to the list that I'll be using in all future profiles as well ^_^)

//dubcon/noncon, yandere, fem reader, manipulative behavior, n/s/fw section + implications/mentions of not sfw throughout

------

What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

Kaveh falls head over heels, face-first, and he tries so, so hard. It's pitiful, really.

He's somewhat on the milder side in terms of what he'll actually do to you and others, provided you comply with him and don't give him reasons to become worse. He's just... very, very intense. In lots of ways, he's a very ideal partner to have, so much so that there's a very good chance you'll end up together of your own volition, making him more of an over-attached boyfriend than a stalker from a distance.

At the very least, even if not a romantic partnership, he will surely become an active part of your life very quickly. Which you likely won't mind, given his pleasant disposition and empathetic nature. What's not to like? Compared to a roster full of individuals ranging anywhere from unhinged and violent to cold or cruel to prideful and infuriating, Kaveh feels like a breath of fresh air. He's considerate, he's empathetic, he really likes making you happy. He recognizes his feelings very early on and has no trouble understanding them, so there's not a lot of time that passes between meeting you and trying to get closer to you. It doesn't take a lot to get him infatuated, either, namely just showing him some kindness.

A waitress or bartender that he sees regularly that's always sweet to him, a stranger that calls out to him to give him something he dropped, a former classmate he still sees around sometimes, pretty much anything, he just latches on to any gesture or display of kindness or affection. Kaveh has the same vibe as a stray cat -- you feed it once, and watch it come back again and again until it just decides to permanently stick around you, only he feeds off of smiles and nice words and gestures. He's always conveniently showing up where you are, trying to brush it off as if he's surprised to see you there.

And again, it's head over heels, boy is in love, the sort of love where he's going around in this smiling daze all the time, mind off somewhere else to the point that he hmm?'s every time someone is trying to talk to him. He asks around about you to people who know you, starts showing up a short ways outside your door and greeting you in the mornings (you never told him where you live, though), starts making small mistakes in his work that he has to go back and fix because his mind was preoccupied with you. He also starts following you around a bit, just to a degree that he feels is still normal. He's not, like, some creep or anything.

Which is how he rationalizes things to himself -- he's well aware of his own feelings, yes, and he's not really a full-blown delusional type per se, but he does have a tendency to rationalize abnormal actions to himself, convince himself that certain things he does are okay or normal or reasonable when they very much are not. Or sometimes, he can acknowledge something is in fact not normal or okay, but he lies to himself that it's just this once and he won't do it again (he will), that everyone makes poor decisions or does some not-so-good things every now and then, or that he's doing what he does for good reasons, which justifies the action itself. It's a specific sort of delusion wherein he maintains lucidity and objective perception of everything else -- he doesn't think that everyone else who likes you is actually super evil and has malicious intent if they clearly don't, nor does he convince himself that you must love him, or anything like that -- it's limited to rationalizing his own actions.

And even then, it's fairly weak, not so much true delusion, because in the back of his mind, he doesn't actually believe it, it's just what he tells himself for a time to feel better about what he does. Even so, it can't last forever, and eventually he gives up and just has to live with the guilt. Thus, it gradually progresses to following you more and more, taking some things that won't be missed, and maybe he might or might not have climbed into your room and laid on your bed for a while because you left the window unlocked. Which is bad, but he won't do it again, it was just a one-time thing, really.

While he does rationalize acts he knows are considered "bad," he also engages in other behaviors he isn't quite as self-aware of, including both clingy tendencies as well as other behaviors that aren't noticed by anyone else, but he fails to stop and realize how abnormal and unwell said behaviors are. For the clinginess aspect, the closer to you he gets, the more comfortable he gets with complaining about his frustrations and stressors onto you, and frankly, he can get a bit whiny. It's not intentional, it's just that he doesn't have a lot of outlets, and he's under so much stress and you're so nice to him and you don't stop him from drinking so he just starts to go on and on and on, eventually leaning over onto you as he continues on about his woes. Sometimes for very long periods of time, if you don't stop him. He likes the attention and sympathy you never fail to give him.

Which tends to happen a lot anyway, since you notice the poor thing seems rather prone to misfortune and mishap, at least whenever you see him. There was that time he showed up to you all scraped up, forearms covered in little cuts because of, when you inquired, apparently helping that traveler friend of his fight some common criminals as part of some mission or another. He didn't bother to take care of the wounds in any way, seeing as they were fairly minor, but you started fussing about infections and insisted he come over and sit down and let you wrap them up and treat it to the best of your ability.

You poor thing, you said. He can recall the softness and concern in your voice. You said something about how he should be more careful, that he could come back to you if he got hurt again, that he must be rather brave and strong to get into fights like that. He doesn't remember all the exact words due to the dizzy fuzzy warm feeling all over. You only recall that he started to show up to your home within a few days with significantly worse wounds, which you once again worried and fretted over and tended to for his sake. It becomes something of a routine. You think to yourself that it's sweet that he smiles the whole time despite being hurt. You assume it's forced so as to not make you worry more.

Also, Kaveh has a drive to learn about the things he likes, more intensely so than the average person. He's been academically successful for a variety of reasons, such as being both naturally suited for at and passionate about his craft, but also possessing the general ability to intake, retain, understand, and apply information. And when it comes to you, he undergoes an experience very much akin to how he used to discover some area of special interest in his field while studying, he'd come across and become fascinated by a certain style or era of architecture or the like, and spend days on end absorbing information on it.

Similarly, he feels a compulsion to know you, to learn everything he can in relevance to you. He takes any available avenues to do so, be it from others, from quietly observing you and your behaviors and habits, normal things... and maybe some more intrusive things. It can't be that private of a conversation, since you know he's supposed to be in the other room, so it can't be that big of a deal if he just quietly shuffles his way over and puts his ear to the door, just to listen in on who you're talking to. And if you wrote things that were really that private or secret, you wouldn't leave your journal sitting right there on your desk, you'd hide it away somewhere, so it can't be that bad to read it.

Regardless of those more secretive behaviors, his outward, non-secretive behaviors are a lot more obvious than he realizes, so much so that you're not at all surprised when he finally does muster up the courage to say something to you. He's also rather nervous and consequently awkward, at least when sober. He's like a little schoolboy trying to confess to a playground crush, stumbles over his words, lots of nervous smiling.

Still, you're fairly inclined to accept. He's always been so sweet, he's pretty, you see no reason not to, and he seems positively elated when you agree. The poor thing is in such a daze that he walks headfirst into a lamppost after walking you home and parting for the night (you laughed, but you still ran over to help him back up). Sure, he's a bit clingy, that much is already obvious, but you figure he'll calm down at least a little bit once you start seeing each other more.

That, however, turns out to not be the case. Quite the opposite.

The most noticeable behavior from the get-go is that he is almost a bit too attached, and he develops a bit of a dependency very quickly. Now, it's more acceptable for him to know where you are and be around you and all that, so he makes sure to do so at every opportunity. To an even greater degree than before, which turns out to be somehow possible. He moves very very fast, in terms of a relationship. You've heard the phrase I love you within a few days, he wants to move in together within no time, he's spending what little extra money he has on you at every opportunity from the get-go. Sure, there's a "honeymoon phase" where it's normal to be super clingy to each other, but it quickly becomes clear his is not dying down any time soon.

And he cares about you so much, so it's okay for him to want to know where you are if he can't find you, to get a bit upset and frustrated with you when you disappear for fifteen minutes because you went to the store to pick up something and didn't tell him (or, ideally, take him with you). Which you can dismiss and blow off as him just being stressed or anxious once or twice, but it soon becomes clear you can't so much as leave his line of sight for a few minutes without him going to look for you.

Then starts the isolation from others. Sure, you could go out with your friends, but he forgot you had that planned and may or may not have gotten takeout for both of you, so you can miss it this once, right? And then the next time, it's that it's just that you all are planning to meet so late at night, and he doesn't feel comfortable with that kind of risk... so on and so on. You soon realize you haven't spent time with anyone else in quite some time. Whenever you do talk to someone, he always wants to know who they are and what you talked about. He doesn't demand to know, or sound angry or anything, he just... asks. Just out of curiosity, you know.

He just wants to be with you, spend time with you, talk to you, be involved in the little aspects of your daily life. It's just that that means... everything. All the time. Every single second of every single day. Even the phrase "every waking second" doesn't quite cover it, because he'll be there every second of your sleep as well, clinging to you tightly. He wants to be there when you wake up, and when you get ready in the mornings, and when you walk to your daily routine of work or school or whatever, and he'll linger and talk and talk until the last possible second, until you remind him for a third time that you're both going to be late if you don't go your separate ways, where he'll finally relent and wish you a good day. Then he starts to make sure he gets to eat lunch at the same time as you, so you see each other then too! And then he's right there to greet you as you leave for the day, and then you can walk home, and then he'll be there the whole evening, clinging to you both emotionally and physically, talking and cuddling and staying right there by your side, and then he'll ask if he can stay over for the night as he always does these days, and then you'll go to bed and he won't leave your side all night long. And of course, he'll bring up the idea of moving in with you yet again, that he could pitch in for the rent and it would save you both money, and you'll give a vague non-answer because you're not quite ready for that but don't want to hurt his feelings, deflect and try to change topics again. And then the cycle repeats.

Day after day. Without relent. Endlessly. To say it's starting to affect you psychologically would be an understatement.

Of course, with all the unfavorable aspects combined, you might just start to think that maybe you made a mistake, maybe you should think about suggesting you take a break...

Except he seems to kind of sense that. Even if it's just subconscious, he sort of detects your body language and recent behaviors and realizes something has you unhappy or discontent or just distant from him. It makes him feel this awful pit of dread in his stomach, the mere notion makes him sick. You wouldn't ever leave him, though, would you?

He was already attached to you beforehand, but now, his entire happiness and sense of purpose depends on you. You become his entire world, the only thing that really matters. The only thing he really thinks about or cares about. If, for whatever reason, you were to suddenly disappear from his life... well, then he would have nothing left. His passion for his work alone can't keep him going, now that he's had a taste of the euphoric feeling of such intense emotion towards someone. Nothing else will ever compare. You wouldn't do that to him.

But just in case. Whenever he gets this feeling like you're getting distant or like you're going to soon tell him something he doesn't want to hear, he makes sure that he has something prepared to prevent the worst. Expensive gifts he scraped enough together for, planning some big night that will make you happy, doing some significant act of service or favor for you. Something that wins over your favor, makes sure you remember you love him and don't ever think of leaving him. Or maybe even just holding you close and reminding you that you're everything to him, that he needs you, that he wouldn't know how to keep going if he didn't have you. Just to make sure you know how much you'd hurt him, how awful you would be, if you ever got any ideas about not needing him as much as he needs you.

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

Kidnapping is something that would only ever be a last resort. Kaveh ideally wants something very close to a normal relationship. In his mind, what he wants is a normal relationship, he's just... maybe a bit clingier and more protective than most. But otherwise, he's very normal!

Nothing unusual, he just wants to... move in together. Get a place together that he can pay part of (eventually he'll make enough to pay for it all by himself, so he promises). Or you can even just move in with him where he is now! It'll be, uh, awkward, but Alhaitham will probably be okay with it. You've already spent a lot of nights there, and he's only told Kaveh to go over to your place instead so he can 'get at least one night without having to sleep with earpieces in for once, you do realize I can hear literally everyth--' well, anyway, he's only been driven to the point of saying that a handful of times, so as long as you're careful with the, uh, timing, it should be fine.

The whole moving in together thing does get sprung on you very fast, like, a matter of maybe a week at minimum. A bit too fast, so you can gently put him down and try to hold off for a while, but he'll take the first opportunity you allow, and with enough pushing, you're bound to agree eventually.

Which makes him very happy. Now he can be around you that much more.

He does have some ideas, though, to gently suggest to you, on your future and how the relationship should work and all that. He saves up enough to decide that you don't need to work or have a job, you can stay at home and take care of domestic stuff and not have to worry about ever leaving. Oh, well, you can leave to get groceries and stuff, just... don't go by yourself, okay? Let him go with you. That way you'll never have to be alone outside without him, that's all. You know, he read this headline on a public news board the other day, said pickpocketing and theft in the area has been rising, so you know, just to be safe, you never know who's out there. Best to just not go out in public alone. And if you really do have to go meet someone or get something alone, just be sure to let him know. In fact, here's a fun idea, how about each morning you give him an hour-by-hour plan of what you anticipate doing that day? Just so he can have an idea of where you'll be, just for safety's sake. And be sure to be there at this and that time, since he'll use his breaks to come back and check on you, and he would get really worried if you weren't exactly where he anticipates you to be, you know?

As long as you can mutually agree to be safe by following those little guidelines, everything will be fine, he won't have any reason to worry, and he'll be content. Should you disregard his suggestions, though, he might get a bit more paranoid. Check on you more often. Try to talk it out, just let you know that, hey, he would really appreciate it if you could do like he asked you to and stick to the plan, he just worries about you is all. You understand that, don't you? He'll have to continuously bring it up the more you deviate from that plan, and maybe he'll have to, in is own words, 'get a bit annoying about it, haha...'

There is, however, one way that could potentially get you truly imprisoned in the classic obsessive-lover sense: attempting to go through with those thoughts of yours about leaving him.

You don't actually get to finish your spiel, when you try to bring it up and lay it on him as gently as possible. It's very obvious where you're headed, what you're about to say, so there's no need to let you finish talking, to make it all too real and actually be forced to hear the words he'd rather not. You can already see his face fall, his eyes get wide. It's... it's actually kind of creepy, unnerving and unsettling in a visceral way, a way that sends a genuine chill down your spine, like some instinct telling you something is very, very wrong. You find yourself trailing off and going quiet before you can even get the words out.

You instinctively take a step back when he moves towards you, but he's faster. Locks his hands around your wrists with a crushing grip. His face is completely blank, pupils small from having widened eyes.

You don't... you don't mean that.

HIs voice is eerily quiet and soft. You try to pull back, but his grip is unrelenting. You say something else, but he acts as if he doesn't hear you. Pulls you along as he starts to walk. Doesn't respond when you ask what he's doing. You feel a sense of alarm growing heavier in your chest. He pulls you into your shared bedroom.

I think we both need to just calm down for a while.

His voice is still ominously quiet, devoid of emotion. You try to step back, but he pulls you forward again. Lays down, takes you with him. Holds you tight, runs a hand up and down your back, slow soothing motions, totally silent. A moment ago you were trying to end things, but you suddenly feel very, very nervous at the thought of saying anything further, some instinct telling you that trying to break away or insist on leaving would be a very, very bad idea. You don't like the thought of that, the implications of the fact that you're pretty sure it's your innate danger and self-preservation instincts telling you to stay quiet. You find yourself trembling in his hold.

And after a while like that, he finally says something.

I really love you.

You know what the appropriate response is. Even if you're filled with resentment and irritation, those same self-preservation instincts force out the correct response. He sighs when you say it, like he was afraid of hearing something else.

I'm... glad. See, we just needed to relax for a moment. That's all.

And when he stands up, smiling again, you think the moment is over, that the eye-opening momentary episode of whatever the hell that was is done and you can escape. But then, he gently pushes you back onto the bed.

I think... you need to stay in here for now. I'll be back in just a little while with some food, okay?

Once more, the instincts tell you not to resist, at least not now. O-oh, uh... okay...

He hums in response and smiles, and for a moment, you think everything is fine now, that maybe he's just emotional and in a bad state of mind, maybe he'll come back and apologize, maybe he'll finally agree that this isn't working out and wish you the best... but when he shuts the door and you hear the distinct sound of heavy furniture scraping against the floor as something is pushed in front of the door, a sinking feeling of dread swells in your stomach. Another instinct, somehow even worse than your prior fear, tells you you won't be leaving this room for a long time.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

Because he doesn't really want to restrain you much in the first place, the only thing really holding you in any given place, at least initially, is his gentle suggestions on where you should or shouldn't be, and specifically some very strong urging to stay away from certain places or people. Really, the biggest hurdle is his presence, seeing as he clings to you so much, it's hard to get away, and he'll do everything in his power to stop you from leaving if he's right there, namely standing in between you and your path, trying to change the subject or stuttering to find something to say to distract you and deter you from leaving.

Should you try to slip away and get a little bit of time to yourself, it probably won't last long. Firstly, he notices your absence near-immediately, and seems to have some innate ability to find you, like a bloodhound or something. You didn't give him any hints or implications as to where you'd be going, yet somehow he manages to show up there as his first guess of places to look...? The only possibility that actually makes sense is that he's obsessively learned your own mental process tendencies to such a degree that he was able to predict your own conscious choices, which frankly terrifies you in its own way, so you choose to believe it's coincidence.

He always calms down once he does find you, but he stays quiet as you head home (he insists you go home right now, and the unusual, almost out of character intensity to the command makes you nervous enough to comply). Once home, he'll go through his usual cycle of being cold and quiet, then expressing his feelings all in one frustrated rant. Holds onto you, buries his face in the crook of your neck.

This is where one of his talents comes in -- albeit largely a subconscious behavior, he's masterful at guilt-tripping. Keeps talking about how he was so worried, how he doesn't understand why you want to hurt him like this, he cares so much about you and it feels like that means nothing to you, on and on it goes. Any irritation on your part is met with more and more guilt-tripping, sucking you down until you can't be mad or express your own frustrations that led to this for long because come on, look at him, he's looking like a wounded puppy and talking about how much he loves you, how can you be so mean? It's not asking a lot, is it? Are you really mad that he cares so much about you...?

No? Now you sigh and shake your head and get out something about how you're sorry, but-- You don't get to finish the sentence, though. He's already wrapped his arms around you, smiling and assuring you he'll try to be around more so he can take you wherever. Just... don't do this to him again, okay? The way he grips your shoulders like he's trying to break them when he says it makes you inclined to stutter out an agreement out of impulse, even if you regret saying it a moment later.

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

It's easy enough on a purely practical level, but honestly, it's hard to not feel guilty for doing so, given how sincere and loving he is. He's pretty gullible, it's not hard to fool him. He'll just get really sad once he realizes you did, in fact, lie to him. Or, if you lie about something like where you'll be or what you'll be doing because you didn't want him to get all worried and paranoid (such as going out with friends, which always makes him very paranoid), he gets nervous. If it's bad enough, it might be one of the few occasions where he really raises his voice and gets upset, asking you what you were thinking and why you didn't listen to him, why you couldn't just talk it out, and so on. But his anger very quickly gives way to being rather hurt and bitter, resulting in him isolating himself and sulking for some time. He takes a few days to get over the sense of betrayal, but his recovery is expedited if you try to make it up to him or apologize for it. Apologizing is especially a wise move -- even though he tries to be understanding and often tries to agree to whatever you want to make you happy, when it comes to things like this, where it's a matter of your wellbeing or a moral issue, he really toughens up and becomes much more firm in his resolve, even stubborn, when it comes to things of that nature.

And as easy as lying to him is, manipulating him is even easier, you barely have to try. Just give him a little bit of affection and talk to him in a sweet cooing voice, and he'd walk off a cliff if you asked him to. You hold a lot of power in your hands. If you end up abusing it enough, he'll eventually realize he's being manipulated... but even then, he can't bring himself to stop. He just loves you so much, he lives for the high he gets from hearing you thank him and hug him and kiss him for doing things for you. You can even convince him to do morally bad things for you, if you push him enough, although he'll be sullen and sad afterwards, so if you have a heart, try not to abuse this power.

And another thing. The moment sex is involved, he becomes somehow even more manipulable than he already was. An inch of bare skin or a few sweet suggestive words in a sultry voice will have him going red in the face before bending over backwards to do whatever you want and performing requested tasks at the speed of light, often without even thinking through what it is he's been roped into doing. It's rather cute and amusing, really. Again, please be careful with the power you hold.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

He would like to allow you to do anything you want -- and he'd never force you to not do something you want, of course! -- but obviously, anyone who cares for someone has certain limits and boundaries, which are there because of love for someone. After all, if you love someone, you won't let them do something reckless and stupid or dangerous. If anything, allowing someone to do whatever without regard for safety would indicate apathy. That's why it's understandable -- you should be glad, even -- that he's very conscious of your well-being and risks thereof.

You can do pretty much anything, so long as it's inside. He'll spend whatever he has buying you anything you want to do, supports any non-dangerous hobbies. It's just... you can't go outside, not without him at least. He'll gladly take you anywhere you want as long as it's when he has free time, though! Just... just abide by this one simple request, please? That's the only thing he takes an issue with. You can dress however you want, act however you want, do whatever you want. He just doesn't want you putting yourself at risk is all.

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

Again, it's pretty much entirely about staying inside and not going out, and he would really appreciate you do that one thing for him. It's not asking a lot, right? Well, then there's all the checkups throughout the day and insistence on communication, but that all ties back to the same main rule. But to be honest, he really doesn't like thinking of it as a "rule," that word has this... authoritative, controlling connotation to it that he really doesn't like. It makes him feel guilty to think of it like that, like he's doing something wrong. He'd be really hurt if you referred to it that way.

Likewise, punishing you for not following something you both agreed to sounds a bit harsh. He'll try to talk with you about it, of course, communication and mutual understanding is important, and the key to a happy relationship. The only issue is you might not come to that mutual understanding. But even if you don't agree, he can't just let you do as you please, and put yourself in danger, as well as give him constant anxiety. If you can't seem to reach an understanding, he might just have to get an extra lock from the outside. You may call that unnecessary or absurd, but he's very insistent, and if confronted on it, will get huffy and cross his arms, say something about how it's incredible you're getting mad about him caring about you. He's good at overdramatizing like that to deflect from his own actions, to sort of shift the blame onto you. The more you try to bring it up, the more he'll talk over you, keep distracting and refuse to acknowledge the actual problem.

While he also doesn't call it a rule either, he also is really insistent that you communicate. He gets very paranoid if you won't talk to him, if you try to give him silent treatment or something like that. So if you pull this behavior a few times, he'll try to sit down and have a talk with you about how communicating is very important, and how when you refuse to speak to him it makes him really really nervous and he feels so sick to his stomach and his mind assumes the worst and the paranoia eats away at him and... well, just, can you both maybe agree to not do that? That when you're upset, you'll just tell him you are and why? Please?

He'll be very relieved if you agree, but do note that in practice, this rule actually only applies to you. He, on the other hand, will very commonly get quiet and refuse to elaborate on why he's upset without coaxing. But he tells you eventually once you give him the attention he wants, so, it counts as compliance with the agreement, in his mind.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

Kaveh would strongly prefer to avoid homicide if at all possible, and will go to great lengths to avoid it. He's not a particularly confrontational or aggressive person at all. He's also self-aware enough to know that starting any actual up-front conflict with someone else would just be embarrassing himself, and you as well.

It's not as if there isn't a brief second where the thought does cross his mind, though. That it would be so much easier to deal with everything if he could just permanently get rid of someone.

But he's just not that sort of person. He's rational and empathetic, he's not the sort of obsessed that will convince himself the other person is committing a transgression worthy of death just by liking you. He knows that killing them would be an incredibly selfish, abhorrent act... and, of course, very much a crime, one that has the potential to ruin his life if found out.

He does try roundabout ways. He's a sweet person and most people like him, so he has heard his fair share of talk and gossip that circulates around the community. Ideally, he can find someone else that likes the person who likes you, encourage them to go for it and pursue the one they want, and everything works out perfectly. Well, that's how he envisions it in his head, but he knows it probably won't be that easy.

He puts himself to work trying every other angle he can. Digs around for information on the individual, trying to find some negative thing to use against them — a violation that could get them expelled or jailed, a secret he can post on a public bulletin and ruin their reputation, anything. He feels bad, of course, but it's the morally superior option to murder, and that thought helps him feel less guilty.

If worse comes to worse, he can still cause inconveniences. They're going to go meet up with you? Not with their keys hidden they aren't, preventing them from locking their door. He'll find countless little ways to sabotage, all in the hope that it will somehow ruin the relationship between the two of you... he'll feel bad, but it's worth it.

For him to ever actually, truly reach a point where killing is a realistic possibility, it would require a lot of pushing and desperation. He would have had to exhaust every other possible option, and feel that he's at a point where he'll lose you permanently unless he takes some form of drastic action. Even then, the downside of this is that he actually doesn't plan a murder, he ends up doing something spontaneous and impulsive out of a sudden panic response. There's an opportunity — they're standing at the edge of a railing they would die if they fell from, he knows which drink is theirs and there's pest poisons just sitting right there so temptingly, or something of that nature — and he just takes it on an impulse, only to process his own actions a second too late.

The downside of this is that the homicide will certainly be discovered, so it's not as if it's just a person gone missing, but it's just perfectly done enough that they never have any idea who might have done it, or, it may be written off as an accident, depending on the specifics. Nonetheless, you notice that you haven't seen Kaveh in a few days... turns out he's holed up in his home, with his roommate saying something must be wrong with him, because he's been sick and feverish... it's very unfortunate timing, seeing as you were hoping to go to him for some comfort over the loss of another friend, but you can just wait for him to feel better.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

He may be sweet, but it's not really that hard to get him upset. He's rather patient, tries to be understanding. If you have some disagreement, he tries his best to be calm and see things from your perspective and all that. But there is a limit to his patience.

However, his poor moods aren't really what you'd call true anger, he's more prone to this quick cycle where he first gets frustrated and huffy, then sullen and sad and moody. The first stage is lots of heavy frustrated sighs, he crosses his arms and grinds his teeth. He doesn't yell or shout, but he does raise his voice just a bit, and it's clearly audibly irritated. Prone to using those phrases with "if" and "just" -- if you would just listen, or if we could just do that, then, or if they just leave you alone, so on and so on, creating these scenarios where his ideal is the most reasonable outcome, and it's dependent on you or someone else to meet some simple condition, at which point everything would work out perfectly, making you or some other person the only thing inhibiting said ideal outcome. If he's really, really mad, he doesn't want to end up saying something that would hurt you or anything, and he gets the impulse to just go walk it off and cool down, so he actually ends up storming off, muttering something about needing just a few minutes. It's actually one of the few times he ever leaves you alone, funnily enough. It doesn't last too long before he comes back, and that's only on rare occasions that he reaches that point.

After that first stage, after getting out the frustration, it gives way to feeling all sad and melancholy, so he tends to mope. And whine. And sulk. And wallow in feeling sorry for himself. And, if possible, drink the feelings away. It's kind of childish, really, and often overdramatic. If you're present and it's not you who made him feel that way to begin with, he doesn't actually outright say anything or ask for anything, but he goes out of his way to be extra mopey and sad and makes sure it's right within your field of vision, hoping you will give him attention and love and encouragement. Just sort of silently sits there all sad and waits for some attention. And yes, this means that if you haven't caught onto it due to being spaced out or focused on something else, and go into another room, he will sort of quietly trail behind you and go into the next room with you before sitting down and sulking again, until you finally catch on and give him the attention he craves.

If you are the reason he's all hurt, even unintentionally, he might resort to giving you a bit of silent treatment, with a similar goal: hope that you'll give him attention and ask what's wrong and then ask what's wrong again when he says 'nothing' and then gasp and apologize when he tells you and say you didn't mean what you did or said that way and hold him and kiss his forehead and... well, that's how it plays out in his head.

If you're trying to make him mad intentionally, though, he's likely to see through it, and again, he just gets hurt. Why are you being so mean? Did I do something? He actually gets really, genuinely hurt by this sort of behavior, and will likely make you feel so guilty for trying it that you cease and refocus your efforts to a different tactic.

How do they express affection, or attempt to endear themselves to you?

It would be easier to ask how he doesn't. He tries every angle, every means of expression, manages to have every "love language" simultaneously. He's always getting you various little gifts (how is he affording that?), always saying nice things, always doing things for you and helping you with any task you wish, always spending time with you (even if you don't want it), and if you'll allow it, he's very, very cuddly. While he does it all, he's especially focused on getting stuff for you, despite his lack of funds.

Maybe it's because it's just his preferred way of expressing his affection, but perhaps there's also a more manipulative side to it -- he knows that you know that he doesn't have a lot of money, so if you see that he's spending what little he does have on you, it will seem that much more significant, right? You'll notice, and then it will seem like an even bigger, more meaningful gesture because of that. You'll thus be more emotionally moved by the gesture, and you'll surely want to repay him with affection and attention. Whether that's just a natural exchange of sentiments or a subtly manipulative means of trying to win your favor, well, you can think whatever you like.

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

It somewhat depends on his mood. On better days, he'd like to just disregard such notions as "value" of an individual person, thinks the concept is shallow and meaningless, the sort of thing only either very prideful or very insecure people would even care to think about. Who cares what someone's "worth" is, or if someone is "better" or "worse" than someone else? As long as two people love each other, nothing else should matter, right?

But on worse days, when he's sulking and his thoughts wander to negative places, he starts to feel like you're better than him, to the extent it can make him depressed. When he's not in a good mood, he often lays around wallowing, deep in thought about how you can do so much better than him, there's no way you'd ever choose to stay with him permanently, and even if you do like him, surely someone better will come along and he'll lose you... sigh.

When he's in such a sulking mood, it's very outwardly obvious, he gets quieter than usual and a sad look on his face. So if you just give him a bit of reassurance, maybe a hug and cuddles and a kiss to the forehead and some sweet uplifting words (please), he'll perk right back up. Well, the thought will still be in the back of his mind, but he can't stay too sad when you're giving him attention. He'll just keep feeding off your reassurance for a while until the contentment from it runs out, and then he gets depressed again, and then you reassure him again, and, well, it cycles like that.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

If you haven't accepted him, he's still incredibly determined, in spite of a tendency to sometimes be pessimistic in his own thoughts about the matter. He bounces back and forth -- he'll undergo a brief sad spell thinking about how he'll never make you like him, but he comes out of it with newfound determination that he'll either win you over or die trying. This repeats over and over, at least until you show some semblance of affection or attention, which will serve as a fuel he manages to stretch out for an incredibly long time thereafter.

...And don't give him any ideas, because seriously, he will die trying. This man will put his own well-being at great risk for a chance to impress you. Seriously. He doesn't even really need you to do anything to push him, even. He will do something incredibly stupid and he will get himself hurt if you don't actively stop him from doing so. Over time you kind of develop a sixth sense, a radar where you can feel when he's about to do something stupid, so use it wisely.

If you do accept him and agree to be with him, he'd like to think you already do love him, but to be honest, he gets insecure pretty easily and, while he won't actually ask for it because he deems it too pathetic, he would very much appreciate if you remind him you love him on a regular basis.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

His reluctance to do anything he deems immoral does not combine well with his desire to secure you all to himself. The two don't exactly go hand-in-hand, it's difficult to ensure someone remains around you at all times and never interacts with anyone else without taking some unsavory measures to get to that point. Hence, he takes so many roundabout measures of getting the results he wants, and does so much by proxy -- not only does it prevent a lot of things from being tracked back to him, but it also alleviates himself of guilt. That alone sets him apart from the typical type of obsessive lover and their tendencies to kill, rape and kidnap without much hesitancy.

When he does engage in morally questionable behaviors and manipulative tactics, though, it's really not even intentional. That behavior isn't even necessarily a conscious choice, he doesn't really think about it or intend it to be part of some bigger picture of control, it's just that whenever you mention going out to see other people, or when he doesn't know where you are, or when you're paying more attention to something else than him, he gets this awful sick feeling and acts on impulses to soothe his nerves, which just so happens to be keeping you right by his side and ensuring he has your full attention. It's not malicious, or intentionally controlling or manipulative. He just cares so, so much and loves you so, so much and the behaviors just come out without him really putting any intentional thought into them, nor has it ever occurred to him as an afterthought. It just doesn't really cross his mind, he doesn't reflect on his own actions all that much.

If he was made aware of how manipulative he can be, forced to come to the realization of everything he's done, it would come as a bit of a shock to him, and would leave him more or less a psychological mess for a little while as he comes to terms with the fact that, despite his best conscious intentions, he's actually been pretty awful in some ways. He would come out of it swearing to himself to be better, thinking he will keep better track of himself in the future and think his actions through, that he'll make up for anything bad that he's done before... but, of course, the chances of that resolve lasting in the face of situational impulses is not that great, and in the heat of the moment, any thoughts he has that what he might be about to do is kind of distasteful behavior will be overridden by some momentary justification, which will be reinforced and repeated to himself afterwards to make himself feel better.

On a more wholesome note, Kaveh also gets really enthusiastic about your passions, talents and hobbies. He understands passion and dedication to a craft or art form, having the same experience himself, and gets really into supporting you in your endeavors, should you have anything of the sort. Whether it's something artsy like music or drawing or dance, or something more sport-related or science-related, doesn't really matter, he just really makes an effort to support you and encourage you. He'll tell you whatever you've created is amazing (even if you both know it's not), he'll spend whatever money he gets his hands on to buy materials or supplies or other thematic gifts (even though you keep telling him not to, to save his money), and he always asks tons of questions. It's partially a genuine, heartfelt sentiment, and it's also just partially an obsessive compulsion to know everything there is to know regarding you, but he also does very much hope that you will be happy and appreciate his efforts, and that in turn you'll think more highly of him and have more affection for him. Basically, it's partially yet another means of trying to win your favor. Nonetheless, it's really sweet and endearing.

Finally, in all honesty, Kaveh can be pretty sensitive. Especially in regards to you. It's easy to hurt his feelings, and when he's hurt, he goes into one of his attention-seeking moping sessions. You often find yourself feeling like you can't be entirely honest with him, because he's so sensitive to your words and feelings, so if you're bluntly honest, you'll end up hurting his feelings fairly often. You sometimes have to just find ways to articulate what you want to say in a way to deflect from anything he might take too personally. Regardless, be prepared to deal with a lot of his sad wallowing. He'll be sad (and make sure you see it) until you come cheer him up, preferably with hugs and kisses and sweet words. He can get rather childish when it comes to this, so it's easy to get frustrated by his sensitivity, but it's easier for both of you if you just comply and be all sweet like he wants, or else you'll just create a bigger task for yourself when he gets even more upset.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

He's incredibly touchy, if you allow it. He's perceptive enough to tell if you flinch or draw away from his touch, so he'll refrain if he feels like it's bothering you, but if you seem to be receptive to his touches, he can't keep his hands off of you. All throughout the day, laying on the couch or in bed, he keeps his arms wrapped around you, always holds your hand in public, and clings to you in some way even just walking around the house. Depending on your height difference, he likes to rest his chin either on the top of your head or your shoulder, arms wrapped around you from behind while you work on whatever you're doing.

He's admittedly developed a habit of masturbation fairly regularly, so he's used to getting to cum pretty often, needs it at least once a day. He's fairly horny overall, but in particular, his drive increases as an emotional response. If he's in a good mood, the slightest of visual stimuli or touches can get him going, and he's very eager. If he's sad, though, he still gets horny over it, the purpose of wanting sex just changes, now being that it will cheer him up. The only time he really can't get easily aroused if when he's under very intense stress, situations that need to be resolved as fast as possible, he's just too focused on whatever the task at hand is to think about much else. He'll still very much appreciate (and not outright ask for, but maybe strongly hint at wanting) a nice blowjob or riding him when he's finished as a means of praising him for getting through his task, though.

He's a mix of reserved and not reserved. He's awkward about it and very new to it all, so he has a tendency to be shy about it, the sort of thing where he can't make eye contact, keeps sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. But the raging hormones and eagerness make him simultaneously still very much unhesitant to participate and discuss, even if he's burning on the inside with embarrassment the whole time.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

Of course he cares tremendously. Forcing someone into doing intimate acts against their will is one of the most horrific crimes he can conceive of, and he despises people who would do something like that. Rapists, in his mind, are all strangers, a certain class of bad people who exist solely in certain unsavory spaces and groups.

But people who are in relationships are supposed to be intimate with each other and all. It's natural and healthy. Relationships are said to suffer if there's a sudden drought in that department.

See, Kaveh has a sort of slow descent. A lot of his approach depends on whether or not you've had sex or any sort of intimacy before. Before you've ever done so, he's very respectful of your wishes, would never push anything onto you, would never pressure you, is willing to maintain a perfectly squeaky-clean relationship where you never touch below the neck, will stiffen and turn around and cover his eyes automatically if you start to change or have a wardrobe malfunction that reveals something, won't even talk about such things if you don't bring it up first. Much to your amusement, he even asked to kiss you the first time he did so. The sort of "pure" relationship that you've seen particularly religiously pious or socially traditional people promote.

Things change a bit with time, though. Still, he'd never ever ever force anything, of course, but, you know. There's a lot of space between forcing something and being totally okay with not having it ever.

Once you've gotten somewhat hot and heavy, late at night alone in your place, mouths latched onto each other, but you pull away because you don't want to move too fast or whatever your reason is, he accepts that, really. He just looks very visibly disappointed, might mope a bit... but no, really, it's fine. You can tell how badly he wants it, and he seems to think every night is going to be The Night based on how quickly he seems to perk up and eagerly latch onto you if you embrace him or kiss him or anything of the sort. But no pressure. It's fine, really.

The pressure of the blatant disappointment is not so bad, really, it can be more amusing than anything, but it gets significantly worse after you actually do sleep with him for the first time, because he gets hooked like some sort of drug. And consequently, without even realizing it himself, he gets much pushier. In a more rational mind, he'd probably at least try to stop himself in his worst moments, but one's self-awareness and inhibition are severely compromised when you have a flood of hormones pumping through your veins, and the object the brain associates with that burst of a chemical high right in front of you, complete with visual stimuli. He's still not forceful, of course, just... encouraging. Touchy. Can't get behind closed doors for more than a few moments without pulling you close and holding onto you while you two lay on a couch or bed or whatever at the end of the day, just like you always have, just much more sensual with the places being grabbed and the not-so-subtle tugging on your clothes. If you actually want it, it's rather cute, always strikes you with the imagery of an eager puppy wagging its tail or the like.

But you don't have to, and if you aren't feeling it or something, that's fine... he'll be really sad, but that's fine. Maybe you'll feel like it again in an hour or so. He'll be sure to check. But if not, that's fine... he's just going to be even more sad. And quiet. And mopey. Blatantly so, such a contrast to his usual self you can't not notice it. It makes you feel a bit guilty, makes the atmosphere a bit awkward. But hey, if you give in and give him what he wants, he immediately perks right back up.

It's really not a conscious behavior, not something he's ever really stopped to think about, it's just something he sort of does without ever really thinking about it or how manipulative it is. If you ever point it out to him, he'd feel awful about it and try to stop himself from subconsciously engaging in that behavior... which will last about a week or so.

What is intimacy with them like? What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

Poor baby is a total virgin. He won't admit to it unprompted, but it's kind of obvious, and he'll be (albeit sheepishly) honest if you asked. He's incredibly nervous, but also very eager, hands that tremble yet rush to pull everything off of you and run over your bare skin with intense fixation. He pays a lot of attention to you and your reactions, at least in the beginning, and is very afraid of accidentally hurting you or something.

Oral fixation

Kaveh is a very simple boy, he gets off to knowing he's getting you off. He likes making you feel good. He quickly discovers that he really likes having his head between your legs. Loves the way you squirm and moan and fuck it feels so good when you lace your fingers in his hair and pull, when you clamp your thighs down on either side of his head. It gives him such a rush, a sense of pride and excitement at the same time. He can spend literal hours like that, and likes to just do it at random. Expect to be often pushed against the wall when you're home, any of your whining about how you were cleaning or working on something soon replaced by noises of pleasure you can't restrain when he drops down and buries his tongue inside you. He keeps insisting that you sit on his face -- yes he can breathe, don't worry, and even if he can't, he'll be pretty content if that's how he goes anyway, doing what he loves.

It goes both ways, though, not just on the receiving end. If you go to reciprocate, he'll be in total, sheer bliss. He starts off trying to be cautious and worries about your comfort, but quickly gets lost in the feeling, grabbing you by your skull and pulling your head down, jerking your face up and down like a toy until he cums down your throat. Of course, after he does, he'll be apologizing for it over and over, but if you reassure him it's fine, he might just lose inhibition and control like that more readily in the future.

Praise

This probably doesn't even qualify as a kink for him, it's more like a need. He desperately needs you to tell him that he's doing a good job. Moans and other such noises are very nice on their own, but specific verbal praise is very much appreciated. Tell him it feels good, that he's good, that you love him, that you love his cock inside you, that you need him and want him and will never ever leave him. He eats up any positive words you say, depends on them even. It's partially an emotional thing of course, but it also makes him cum that much faster, each word of praise about how good it feels like an electric shock of pleasure.

Oh, and if the phrase "good boy" leaves your mouth, his soul might actually leave his body and ascend right then and there.

Marking

He discovers this because he has a tendency to get rougher than he realizes in the heat of the moment. He'll get more intense halfway in, start thrusting harder and gripping more firmly, nails digging in and even, without consciously intending to, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. Only after it's over does he start sputtering all wide-eyed because he sees the marks his actions have left across your skin, stammering out an apology and asking if you're hurt or need something and why is hot, why does it make him feel weird. What is this? This weird feeling, he feels so bad about having done it, and yet, it's... kind of nice...

If you don't mind it, maybe just maybe he can do it again... the thought of which makes him nearly hard again already. He finds himself tracing a finger over the indents of his teeth in your flesh, over the hickeys and scratches... he still feels guilty, but provided you don't seem upset, he finds himself sort of attracted to it. It feels nice, in a way, like it's marking something as his own, makes him feel a sort of prideful swelling feeling that also very much correlates to making his cock twitch. Like he's writing his name on you with each mark. Or, hey, maybe he could quite literally do that instead...

He grows a fast affinity for any sort of marking on you, be it scratches, bites, hickeys, actual writing, or even just cumshots on your face and back. It's rather cute how he still feels guilty about it, mumbles out an apology for it, but it's very evident that he's enjoying it nonetheless.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them? What are they like as a parent?

He'd prefer to be financially stable first, of course, but yes actually, very strongly so. He really likes the thought of eventually having a family, likes to picture it in his head. Just you, him, a bunch of kids, maybe you guys could get a dog or a cat or something, in a nice but modest house, living a peaceful, happy, simplistic life... it's a nice thought. He knows it's a bit embarrassing to be dreaming of stuff like that with someone he doesn't know that well, so he tries to refrain, but the thoughts seep in nonetheless.

It wouldn't be something that would practically, actually happen, though, until later stages, if you've finally accepted him, most likely via an "accident" wherein he forgot (or rather, tells himself he forgot) to wear protection, and one thing leads to another. Granted, he probably won't actually make it to the point of financial stability before it does, but... hey, having love and hope is what matters, right? Sure, maybe it'll be a struggle, but you'll manage... probably.

On the bright side, he's actually a very good father, one of the best you could have. Very caring and loving, and highly involved in every aspect of the kid's life. He's always trying to take care of tasks for you to "give you a break," wants the full Parent Experience™ -- which is rather endearing, seeing as you know a lot of men tend to push the boring or annoying or tedious tasks off on the mother, but Kaveh gladly helps you with a smile on his face and enthusiasm in every second.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

It would be a stretch to call it that, largely because he doesn't really intend it that way. But if you happen to trigger his anxieties when he's already in one of his worst moments, where he becomes more forceful and irrational out of paranoia or panic, the solution his mind comes up with for the issue of your discontentment is to make you feel good. Orgasms trigger a critical part of a bonding process (he remembers learning that in some mandatory class years ago), and you can't have room for too many bad thoughts when your mind is completely consumed by pleasure.

As always, he's not going to force you, of course not, he's just a little more pushy than usual, talks fast enough you can't get a word in, hands on your shoulders with a firm grip and an even firmer push as you get quickly guided into the bed (not forced! If you really didn't want it, you could always shove back), pushed down onto your back. A hand held over your mouth, should you try to talk, not because he's trying to prevent you from getting a word in, but because you're going to get yourself more worked up and distressed if he lets you talk. Just... just calm down, okay? Just let me handle it...

You have the opportunity to say no, despite the crushing grip and frantic voice and the ominous intensity of his stare. Looming over you, light from the hallway casting a shadow over his face that makes you feel uneasy. But you know he wouldn't hurt you, he's sure of that, so if you really wanted something else, you'd just tell him. Your stillness and quietness and wide eyes are an unspoken form of permission in and of themselves. You're clearly in recognition of your own distress and need for him to help you, and he'll do his best to make you feel good, which will in turn make you feel better and relax. Rather, maybe just keep going until you eventually pass out. Get the negative emotions out of you so that you'll be back to normal in the morning... and if not, he can just keep going then, too.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

If you ask, he'll say something really sappy like your eyes or your smile. Which is true, but he also likes all the soft squishy parts. Thighs, chest, anything he can rest his head on after a really long day and blissfully relax on. It's probably the closest thing on earth to what heaven feels like, he thinks. There's something comforting about the soft warmth that just melts his anxieties and stress away. Sometimes, if he's been dealing with a particularly disagreeable or demanding client or been pushed around all day, he just comes home at the end of the day silently sulking, makes a beeline over towards you, flops down and stuffs his face into your chest without a word.

But going back to his affinity for your eyes, over the course of his career, he's become somewhat familiar with certain stones and metals often inlaid into more ornate or sacred works of architecture, and he will definitely at some point get you some form of necklace or bracelet or the like with some stone or metal in it that matches the color of your eyes. He just puts a lot of effort into trying to be classically romantic like that, which is cute at least.

#alhthm staring up at the ceiling laying in bed at night trying to ignore the sounds before just sighing and putting the earpieces in #hes a real one for allowing it though ty alhthm #yandere genshin impact

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m1dn1ght-hag · 11 months

Note

Hi! Can I request diavolo reacting to reader who had become his wife/queen being hit on by another king who us visiting the devil domain? Saying things like "you are a lucky man", being overly touchy with reader, even going as far as asking if diavolo was willing to " share"?

note: I’m SO sorry this took so long to come out 😭 I just graduated so hopefully I should have more time to focus on being mentally ill 😝💪 the ending doesn’t rwallt fit the mood of the rest of the writing but i like jt too much tk get rid of it

somewhat proofread 😭

Content warning: uhhh catcalling???, inappropriate comments, objectification, jealous Dia

Fem!MC

—

It had been a slow day for Diavolo, and knowing he had to attend a formal party after work helped a little to ease his nerves. The thing he’d be looking forward to all day is seeing you, who’d be accompanying him as his plus one. (as if you weren’t going to be invited anyways.)

He appreciated all the effort his citizens put into celebrating him, however he was simply too exhausted after how slow the day had been dragging on. It was his birthday and he was still forced to attend business meetings and keep up with his paperwork to avoid falling behind. (Barbatos’ orders. He’s scary when he’s angry, and Diavolo did NOT want to feel his wrath.)

A simple knock on his door alerted him of Barbatos’ presence, speak of the devil, before the butler let himself in. Upon entering the room and seeing Diavolo hunched over his desk, slowly dwindling away at the stack of documents he clicked his tongue.

"Young lord," he started, drawing Diavolo's attention away from the paper, "it's time to get prepared, we must leave in the next hour."

With a relieved sigh, Diavolo stood his stretched his aching limbs, glad to be going to the party seeing it as a distraction from the endless paperwork he had to sign.

——

Being with you at the party definitely brightened his mood as the two of you chatted and laughed together, occasionally interrupted by a demon cheering birthday wishes.

“Oh, Dia, I’ll go get us some drinks.” Diavolo smiled as the nickname naturally slipped past your lips, “what do you want?”

“Whatever you’re getting, my dear.” seeing the unamused glare you sent him made him chuckle.

“You better not complain,” you reprimanded jokingly, patting his arm before heading to the beverage table.

He allowed his eyes to follow your figure before he heard a whistle next to him. He turned his head in the direction of the noise to see someone eyeballing you. Diavolo quickly noted the other demon was the crowned prince from another kingdom, visiting in place of his father to celebrate Diavolo. He also noted that he was very, very drunk. A risqué compliment slurred past his lips followed by a hiccup before he noticed Diavolo.

“Oh! Lord Diavolo,” He laughed too loud for comfort, “congratulations!”

“Thank you.” Diavolo replied with fake gratitude, curtly nodding.

“Yesss, you caught a real beauty alright.”

“Excuse me?” Diavolo scoffed, ‘caught?’

The other prince tipped forward, gasping when his drink nearly spilled over before, sloppily, regaining “balance” and downing another flute of demonus. He called over a waiter who, begrudgingly, handed him another.

“You know-“ a hiccup interrupted his speech, “-you should sharee, she’s a pretty one and I’d like a bite if her myself.”

“Excuse me?” Diavolo repeated, feeling his blood begin to boil.

The demon bellowed, waving the new glass of Demonus in the air, “you heard me, yes you did!” He hiccuped, “you’re a lucky man, alright!”

Diavolo glanced over towards you, and felt a wave of relief upon seeing you were still at the beverage table, now chatting with Lucifer. He was silently thanking his friend for occupying you at the moment; he could only imagine how uncomfortable it would have been for you to listen to some drunkard babbling about your body so inappropriately.

You caught his gaze and sent him a pleasant smile, waving. The angry expression he wore faded momentarily as he returned the smile and waved back, before turning his attention back to the drunken demon standing before him, who’d tipped his head back and downed another flute of white wine.

You quickly finished your conversation with Lucifer and dismissed yourself, eager to get back to your boyfriend.

“Hey Dia,” you greeted, interlocking your fingers with his and rubbing your thumb along his, “sorry I took so long.”

Diavolo flinched at your touch and inwardly cursed, sending the demon another nasty look before trying to drag you away from the offender. “That’s quite alright my dear, you could have stayed longer.”

A whistle startled you and caused Diavolo to let out an irate sigh. You turned your attention to the source of the noise, a brow quirked. “Excuse me?”

“Mc, no,“ Diavolo’s plea fell to deaf ears as the demon started talking.

A hiccup followed by a string of coughing as the demon slurred out a provocative comment, waving around the, now empty, flute merrily and swaying closer to the couple.

Diavolo instinctively stepped in front of you, holding you behind him so the demon wouldn't try grabbing you. "End this behavior at once or I'll have to ask you to leave."

"Ohhh-" the demon gagged and swallowed, "don't be that way, I'm just sayin' we could share her, y'know?"

Before Diavolo could react, the demon reached forward to touch you, barely grazing your arm before Diavolo harshly elbowed his arm away. Barbatos interfered before anything got too out of hand and grabbed the drunkard's arm, twisted it behind his back, and escorted him away from the scene, telling him that they’d be sending him back to his kingdom and informing his father of his behaviour.

Diavolo would have to remember to thank Barbatos later.

He turned to you, both hands on either shoulder, his previous anger dissipated and was replaced with concern. “Are you alright, my dear? I deeply apologize for the way he was treating you.”

“I’m fine,” you cup his cheeks, watching the way he melted in your hands, rubbing into your hold, “are you okay, Dia?”

He angled his head to place a tentative kiss to the palm of your hand, a pleasant smile returning to his face, “I am now, my dear. Thank you.”

You gently pinch his cheek, earning a giggle from him before you also began giggling, “what for?”

“For choosing me.”

“Oh, Dia you big sap,” you pinched his cheeks again before pressing a kiss against his lips, feeling him smile against yours. You would have kissed him so more it you two weren’t in public, surrounded by the presence of many nobles, who’d frown upon the un-princely show of affection, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, my dear,” he cupped his hands around yours, before pulling them away from his face and straightening his posture, “now that we won’t be interrupted again, where are the drinks you were wanting me to try?”

“Oh,” you cupped your free hand over your mouth, “I forgot them by Lucifer, I saw you and got distracted.”

Diavolo laughed, squeezing your hand, “well lets go over, together this time, shall we?”

#diavolo om #diavolo x reader #obey me #om diavolo #obey me x reader

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beneathashadytree · 11 months

Note

Heyy can I request 57 and 63 for Mori Ogai smut? For your event ofc💓

SHAMELESS - MORI OUGAI X READER

Warnings : dubcon (reader is coerced into it, but they secretly want it), Mori is a perverted underwear thief, unprotected sex, no prep, some objectification and degradation, belly-bulge, this is not proofread, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : smut born from hell

Word count : 0.8K words

Additional notes : I hope you like this one, nonnie! It’s very… different than anything I’ve ever written, but hopefully still somewhat enjoyable🫣

Prompts : “I knew you were secretly a pervert, but this…!” “You say that, but all I hear is ‘more, more, more.’”

Tip jar if you’d like to buy me a Ko-Fi!

Masterlist

“Oh my fucking God,” they choked out from the doorway, a horrified expression on their face as they looked at their boss where he lounged in front of them.

Sprawled all over the bed, it didn’t seem that the interruption bothered him in the least. There he was, amidst their rumpled sheets and looking perfectly at home intruding on their bedroom, a smirk on his curved lips and his long hair splayed out on their pillow.

But perhaps most alarming of all, was the fact that he’d pulled his hard cock out of his pants, and wrapped a fistful of their underwear around his leaking tip. If they looked closer, they’d notice that he’d already stained the fabric with his cum.

“Cat got your tongue?” His voice came out a little breathy, no doubt from the exertion of his… activities.

Their face was a bright red, feeling more embarrassed than the culprit himself was, apparently. “I’d worn those! They’re used!”

“That’s the whole point, my dear,” Mori chuckled, sitting up enough to look at them with his hungry eyes. “All the better to pretend I’m fucking you through them. And they smell… divine, I must say.”

They started feeling a little dizzy. “I knew you were secretly a pervert, but this…!”

“Is exactly what you’d like me to do to you, isn’t it?” He began to stroke his cock up and down once again, the slick sounds almost pornographic, as were his groans of pleasure. Even through his haze of lust, he managed to meet their eyes with a challenging look. “You want me to fuck you full with my cock, don’t you?”

“N-no, I—“

“Come, now,” he huffed out with a mirthless laugh, fucking their underwear in his fist. “You expect me to believe that when your own feet dragged you over here?”

Indeed, they’d walked over to the bed without even noticing it. It was almost like they were in a trance; unable to look away from his weeping, flushed tip, or the underwear stained with the pearlescent sheen of his previous release. Something about the sight knocked the wind out of them, and they hated every bit of it.

Now close enough for it, Mori used his other arm to drag them down onto the mattress beside him. “Take the one you’re wearing off right now,” he ordered. His smirk was anything but pleasant, but something about him right now demanded that they do just as he asks them to.

“Why?”

“I will either fuck you through it, or fuck myself with it. Which will it be?” he snapped at them, impatiently.

Under his lecherous stare, they could only reach out with wobbly arms and try to take off their pants. It seemed that they’d take too long, however, because no sooner had they stripped them off did he grab them by the hips.

“W-wait,” they cried out, as he unceremoniously shoved their underwear out of the way enough for him to slip his cock in the space created. “Sir, please, slow down!”

Mori shook his head, nudging his cockhead at them and wetting their entrance with his own mix of arousal and release, and watching as their eyes screwed up with a mix of sudden pleasure and worry. He paid their words no heed, as he could see just how much they’d wanted this from the way they pushed back onto his cock, as if begging him to do it faster.

And so he obliged them, and his own carnal desires. With one move, he’d shoved his cock inside them all at once, filling them to the brim and causing them to cry out his name, sobbing curses into his neck as they fell ontop of him. Clicking his tongue, he listened as they tried to formulate pathetic words of protest.

“F-fuck, I can’t… oh God! H-hurts,” they sniffled, digging their nails into his shoulders as he immediately began to pound into them, without so much as a care as to how they whimpered and their body jerked with every rough thrust. “I can’t take it… mmm, fuck!”

“You say that, but all I hear is ‘more, more, more,’” he chuckled, “You’re squeezing me like you never want me to pull out. And you expect me to believe you can’t take it?” His grip on their hips was merciless, and sure to leave a bruise by the morning.

Their insides felt like they were being molded to fit his cock; to be his perfect little fucktoy. His brutal pace was dragging the most pathetic whines and cries of protest out of them. He looked away from their tear-stained face, his dark eyes flitting between the sight of their belly bulging with each thrust, and where their drooling hole kept sucking his cock back inside them.

“You like it so much, and it’s killing you,” he laughed at the realization, something akin to wicked delight in his voice as his hips snapped up to meet their wobbly humps on his cock, “You want me to fuck you stupid, and you hate it.” All light vanished from his eyes, and he looked almost cruel as he met their gaze. “Good. I like my playthings messy.”

Taglist : @wifeofkyojuro @girlypowhat8 @the-foreigner

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simpingland · 1 year

Text

'Alone' together// Lucerys Velaryon x fem!reader.

Y/N Celtigar and Luke have been betrothed for years, but the reader is having a hard time finding true friendship on Dragonstone. Some tutoring makes Luke change his mind about his wife to be.

♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧

No one could stand Jace when he was ahead in any of the classes you all shared with the Master. That's why you took every lesson so seriously, just so you could take him down a peg or two. And it could be fun most of the time, but in the long run, you and Jace never quite clicked, causing Rhaena and Luke to stay somewhat aloof from you, preferring the favour of the prince to the favour of a pupil like you.

When everyone heard the news about Lady Celtigar's death, you were only eight. Rhaenyra saw in you a child who longed for her mother as she had longed for her own, and made a pact with your father to take you into her care. He agreed, proposing a marriage in return. It was a good idea, Valyrian blood with Valyrian blood, extending and strengthening houses that moved across the Seven Kingdoms. Unfortunately, though you were the same age as Jace, Baela was also a close child and the idea of her being queen in the future protected Rhaenyra and Jace's reign...so you were promised to Luke.

It could have been worse, they could have promised you Joffrey...or worse...Jace! At least Lucerys, as you found out a few days later, turned out to be a good boy, if a little too childish for your taste. Growing up in Dragonstone had been quicker than anyone expected, but no less hard. The siblings were very close to each other, and they were also very close to their dragons. Rhaena was sweet and pleasant, but there was something about her company that made you feel as if she was there out of obligation. You never had the feeling that you belonged there.

Arguments between the four of you were very common, never worrisome as they were usually the typical ones caused by going on adventures together, by stealing things from each other... although if someone came out crying, it was usually you. You were a studious young woman, always alert and if Rhaenyra found out about all the shenanigans of the group, it was because you told her. They never listened when you justified yourself by saying that lying was not an option for you. At dinners together you were usually the one who was left out of the conversation, even if they were talking about you. If you were lucky and Luke got mad at Jace too, you had the young man sitting next to you as he prattled on about Arrax and how much he hated Jace that day. He never failed to make you laugh. Sadly, that didn't always happen, and it was more common for him to give you the same dirty looks as the rest when you didn't play along.

Rhaenyra already knew about this problem, and she tried to educate you on how being friends with your husband was always the best way to be married. The problem was that you didn't really know how to make friends...because no one understood how you loved them, everything you said or did ended up being used against you. And no matter how much you made up your mind that you shouldn't do anything, you couldn't help but stay at the table with Luke after he failed his geography lesson with the Maester. Jace had already left for his dragon with a victorious smile, and Rhaena accompanied him, the Maester would show her how to feed her little Morning.

Luke was more embarrassed than sad, you could see it in the way he looked down at you as you paced the table with the map.

"Don't you have one of your sewing classes or one of those lame things you like to do?" he asked.

"I don't like boring things...I just like to be quiet. It's different. And no, I can stay and help you."

"No need, thanks..." he tried to concentrate on the map.

"You should learn some trick to memorize the map...a song, a rhyme..."

"That's just stupid." He interrupted you and you instantly stopped wanting to help him. Something must have crossed your eyes because Luke felt bad right away. "Sorry...it's just...Jace will laugh at me if he sees me burst into song if someone asks me to point out the Isles of Tarth."

This made you laugh, and Luke smiled at your reaction. It wasn't very casual to see you laugh genuinely, it was always usually out of politeness or only brought on by the Maester, Rhaenyra, or some guard. Although, if he thought about it, Luke had seen you laugh at times when he had focused more on you than on the dinners.

"It's just a trick, you end up memorising it eventually. Besides, by the time you're Lord of Driftmark you'll have travelled more. It will be easier."

"How do you memorise it?"

"Oh..." you didn't expect that question. Perhaps because the answer was so personal. "I think about my family. Where my grandmothers were born...where my uncle died...where my grandfather won a battle...where my mother was a ward when she was my age..."

It seemed like a sad thing, but it wasn't really sad for you. The maps served you like a history book. You'd always had a head for remembering stories, and it was all because you felt too trapped there, too lonely. You enjoyed visits to the castle, something the others hated, for even the dullest Lord had an anecdote about someone in your family. However, if the Targaryen children wanted to know something about their family, all they had to do was open any history book.

"It's very nice, really, though I think I'd go mad if I used your method." Luke tried to lighten up a bit the turn the conversation seemed about to take.

"Right, I think the simplest thing to do is for us to decorate our own map." You suggested.

"I don't have enough inks to make a nice map."

"I do!"

Luke had to follow you at a quickened pace, even though he was even slightly taller than you, your enthusiasm to show him your full artistic arsenal outweighed physics. You let him into your rooms, where he hadn't been for many years, and he was surprised to see that it was more cluttered than he expected. There were piles of books in every nook and cranny, many open and with notes on their sides. You also had a small desk in front of your balcony. When he looked out, he noticed that you overlooked the beach. It made him tender to know that he could watch you study while he trained with Jace.

The afternoon flew by as Luke decorated a map with colours assigned to houses, animals and creatures. He made trees and mountains, and you taught him to draw castles for important towns. On a thinner piece of paper, you wrote the names of all those places and Luke tried to name the points you pointed out and then you checked it by putting the paper over it. And it didn't take him long to match what he said with what it really was. He was so happy that he even gave you a hug.

From that day on, geography lessons were much more fun for Luke, as he spent more time drawing than memorising, and he showed you all the things he was doing. Jace's concentration would be thrown off by your whispering and giggling. Sometimes you would show him the annotations and drawings you had on your map, and you would have fun imagining an tracing a dragon ride.

He started helping you in Valyrian, Luke's favourite subject. And at dinners he always sat next to you, apart from Rhaena and Jace. Luke always did the talking, for he always had more to tell than you, who spent the whole day engaged in something completely alternative to what the others were doing. Day by day, he would let you feel open enough to give him your opinion on the books you were reading or telling him some childhood stories.

One of the days when Jace and Luke were training, Luke remembered that afternoon, and your little desk overlooking the beach. He stopped to look for you with his eyes, and it took him a while to find your figure, but he did. He couldn't see you clearly, but he could make out that you were leaning on your balcony, concentrating on something, with a pen in your hand.

"It would be good if you were concentrating on something, Lucerys," the older scolded him.

"Sorry, you're right...I'm really getting better though." Luke smiled mischievously at her.

"Only in geography, I'm not going to applaud your need to draw trees in the woods." Jace landed a lazy first punch, pulling Luke's gaze away from yours.

"Hey! Easy!" Luke tried to hit him back, but clearly Jace was better than him.

"Oops, sorry...I didn't remember how much of a pussy you've become since you and Y/N are the best of friends."

It was silly, but the fight that was supposed to be a rehearsal turned into something all too real, and Jace and Luke were soon fighting without swords, using shoves and fists. From a blow that Jace threw disproportionately, Luke felt part of his lower lip split. At the sight of blood, both stopped instantly.

Of course they were brought before Rhaenyra by the guard who at the time was unable to stop them. And you, who could hear all the commotion, went down to check what was going on. Both were dishevelled but only Luke was bleeding.

"I want an explanation, right now!" Rhaenyra looked furious.

"Luke is being unbearable, mother." Jace gave her a terrible look.

"It's you who can't stand to be outdone. You're always the most important." Luke accepted the water-soaked handkerchief you gave him. He let out a small whimper as he felt the sting.

"Maybe it's because I'm the heir to the throne, my education is vital. And you only know how to giggle and be a shitty student."

You couldn't take it anymore, he always used that excuse, that he had to be the best to be a good king. Luke had already confessed to you over dinner that the love and admiration he had for Jace causes him a lot of anxiety, because he felt unfit to rule something as important as Driftmark.

"That doesn't give you any right to hit him..." everyone turned to look at you, and Jace was relieved to find himself back in the same situation where you were making a fool of yourself.

"You weren't there to see it, it would be nice if you stayed out of this for once."

"I didn't do anything wrong, don't talk to me like that." You were getting that high-pitched, agitated voice again that you get when you're feeling overly nervous. Luke could see it, his hand rested on your arm gently.

"It's your fault Luke's an twat now. All you know how to do is be a pain in the ass to everyone, and now you're filling my brother's head with your bullshit."

"What's wrong with you is that you're unbearable and jealous because Baela isn't here to tell you how well you're doing everything."

"And what's wrong with you is that you're such a pain in the ass that your father put you on the first boat that offered to take you off his sight."

"Jace!" Rhaenyra snapped at him. "I command you to stop talking like that. I remember teaching you some manners, didn't I?. Apologize. Right now."

Jace gave a sigh. And with a forced smile, he focused on them both.

"Luke, I'm really sorry I hurt you, maybe I went too far, considering you're also going to spend the rest of your life next to this absolute bore and insufferable woman. It's a big sacrifice on your part."

Jace gave Luke a friendly slap on his shoulder and turned away, forgiving himself. You, on the other hand, had already started to feel the tears forming at the thought of disappearing from your father's sight. It was too delicate of a subject, and you longed for him, Jace had struck another blow too hard.

"Apologize to Y/N, Jace." Luke's voice sounded serious, demanding. Jace turned away.

"By what right are you commanding me around now?"

"I'm your brother, and Y/N will be my wife, your sister-in-law, and we'll all be a family. Show her the respect she deserves, and ask for her forgiveness."

Jace was quiet for a second. Luke's hand moved to reach for your hand and squeezed it, it was cold, but at his touch, it began to warm.

"I'm sorry, Y/N." It was dry, and it was surely not for you, but for Luke. It was still humiliating, and of course, it was you who left that room crying.

You tried to hide your tears from Luke, who was asking you not to leave, but you couldn't even come up with an excuse, you just disappeared from there.

When you didn't show up for dinner, Luke couldn't eat a single bite. Rhaenyra watched as your empty seat provoked something in him that hadn't happened before, he became quiet. Jaxe was also quiet, stressed and recovering from the scold he received from his mother after all that scene. With a nod of his head, Luke had permission to get up and look for you. Your door was open, but inside your room you were hard to find. On the floor, your back against your bed, a candle illuminated one of your maps. You tried to wipe your face a little as Luke sat down next to you.

"You're missing your favourite dessert..." he tried to get a smile out of you, he couldn't. "I'm sure Jace regrets what he said, he didn't say a single word at dinner."

"He regrets a lot of things I'm sure, but never that he spoke ill of me." You told him without so much as a glance at him.

"That's not true. There may be friction, but we're all family."

"Yeah, but I'm not in it. All I try to do is to be fair, to do the right thing. Your mother is a future queen to me, I must always tell her the truth. And none of the three of you seem to understand the great danger you are in every day..."

"I do understand that you do it for us, but soon she will be like a mother to you too." Luke held your hand.

"I miss my family so much...All I really have from them is just memories I didn't even get to live, few years with my mother... I try to love in the present but then I'm faced with this ignorace against my person.Lucerys, every day I feel this sorrow, this silence...I feel so, so lonely."

Then he understood your great passion for maps. And he suddenly felt like a tremendous idiot. I could have been there for you much earlier. But he was convinced that it was a good time to start.

"I've had dreams too...well, they were really nightmares...about being heir to Driftmark and spending my whole life alone. Jace would be here, Mother at King's Landing, Rhaena married, and everyone else would be dead...and you would be left, as always, locked in your rooms, not wanting to talk to anyone."

At last you looked at him, he too had a sad expression. His lip was split at the bottom. His eyes connected with yours.

"I'm sorry you had that impression of me...you...I actually, genuinely like you. A lot."

You watched as Luke smiled mischievously, like his mother did.

"It'll be the only thing I beat Jace at..." he finally got a laugh out of you. "Maybe, we could feel 'alone' together."

"Sounds like a good idea..."

"And we can go to sleep together, but alone." He continued to joke.

"And have lonely blonde and brunette children..." you continued.

"And sail the ocean alone..."

And in unison you both said "but together!"

At the coincidence, you burst out laughing. And more you laughed when Luke got a stitch of pain in his lip from smiling. His little scream was too funny.

"Hey...don't be mean!" he scolded you with a totally fake frown.

"Oh, my prince, I'm sorry! That wound looks bad..."

"Well, the Maester says nothing that can't be fixed with a kiss on the wound in question."

"Haha! Now I really feel sorry for you if you need a kiss from the Maester..."

"I'm afraid you're out of luck, the sages say only kisses from beautiful, blonde women, lousy with Valyrian but great readers with a strangely amusing laugh."

In that light, Luke had made you happier than you had ever imagined. He might still be a little more childish than you'd like, but it was this that made you laugh during dinners and lessons. This dedication to your could be the beginning of a fun and pleasant future, much closer than your inner child had imagined when you read those love stories in your books.

It was you who reached first, and Luke was the first to close his eyes. A tender kiss on the lips, first on his bottom lip, soft and slow, trying not to hurt him. But above was his upper lip, intact, and there you gave him another kiss, more intense, but just as sweet. And Luke pressed his lips together as hard as he could, letting himself be carried away by your soft lips brushing his. When you broke apart, he saw you blush a little, but you immediately laughed at him, who was much more flushed than you were.

"Actually...if I'm going to be your wife, you didn't have to memorise all those places. I would know them for you." You told him as you walked on your way to the kitchen, ready to dine alone with the leftovers from dinner.

"Right..." Luke led the way, holding your hand. "Although then you would never have realised how much you really like me."

#lucerys velaryon #lucerys strong #prince lucerys #lucerys targaryen #luke velaryon #lucerys velaryon x reader #lucerys velaryon x you #lucerys Velaryon x y/n #lucerys Velaryon fanfic #lucerys velaryon one shot #game of thrones fanfiction #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #elliot grihault

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pavlovianfuckery · 2 months

Text

how about a fucked up game of hot potato because why not

anyone else a greedy indecisive bitch or is it just me? no? this got messy as fuck and i'm sorry, i was just unbelievably thirsty

Going to bed on the night of your birthday is a somewhat gloomy affair. The day itself had been...fine, you supposed. Sure, there had been a bit of a party, a cake and a few thoughtful gifts from your closest friends. But that had been all. Nothing wrong with any of it. Still, you couldn't help being just a bit disappointed that the only one you had truly wanted to see today had been conspicuously absent. It's stupid of course, something so insignificant as somebody turning a year older would be laughably far beneath the notice of someone like him. And still.

Annoyed, you fully expect to have several sleepless hours ahead of you, so when you drift off as soon as your head hits the pillow, it's a pleasant surprise. Even more so is where you find yourself when you enter the Dreaming.

You'd been in his chambers before, of course. It might not have been very often or for very long, as the fleeting moments before waking up always seemed to pass so quickly. Arriving straight here was new. When his arms envelop you from behind you can't hold back a smile.

"Hey. I missed you today."

"Then I hope my absence can be forgiven," his voice is sly as he continues, tightening his arms around you a just fraction, "but I must confess, I wanted you all to myself when offering my gift."

Leaning back into him, you simply bask in the feeling of having him close.

"What kind of gift would that be? Nothing nefarious, I hope."

He rests his chin on your shoulder and clicks his tongue in mock disapproval, breath tickling your ear. "'Nefarious'? You wound me. That would depend entirely on what you wish for."

"I see. So the gift is a wish, then? Can I wish for anything I want?"

"Within reason, yes. Do you perhaps have a request in mind already?"

Being spoilt for choice isn't your strong suit and usually, this kind of situation would leave you at a loss and unable to make any choice at all, but for once you do know what you want. The real question is if he will go for it or not. Possibly mistaking your hesitation for reluctance, he makes you face him.

"I do have something I would like, but it's...silly." Biting your lip you turn your eyes away, unable to keep some embarrassment from showing.

"I have already seen your every fantasy, every dream. Nothing you could request would shock me," he reassures you."So go on my sweet, make your wish known, for I long to hear it."

"It's more of a combination of two different things, now that I think about it."

"Fortunately for you, I find myself in a very generous mood this evening." His tone is dry but his lips twitch into a small smile.

"Okay, so, first things first. Could I..." you take a deep breath, "Could I have more of you?"

"More in what sense?" The question doesn't faze him in the slightest, which bodes well for the other half of the request.

"In the 'more than one of you' kind of sense." Your cheeks are blazing and you almost can't believe that you just said that, but at least now the cat is out of the bag. Or one cat, at any rate.

"While we are here, in my realm, you certainly could. Is that what you want?" The way he looks at you when he asks makes lust coil in your belly, hot and heavy.

"Sort of." You plant a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth, "Do you remember..." you fiddle with the collar of his coat a bit, still feeling a bit shy about the whole thing, "when you showed me some of the things you used to wear, way back when?"

"I do." Judging by the look in his eye, he can tell where this is going. "As I recall, you rather enjoyed that."

"I did. Very much, in fact." The way he preens at that is kind of adorable.

"And was there, by any chance a...favourite?" He looks at you through lowered lashes, the way he fishes for another compliment not nearly as subtle as he would probably like to think.

"Well, you see, that's the problem, I don't think there was." You've never seen him confused before, but this comes pretty close. Figuring it's better to rip the bandaid off sooner rather than later, you go on; "I adored every version of you. How could I choose only one? I want all of you."

"Is that your wish?" You have a sneaking suspicion that he will be insufferable after this, because he looks like a cat that has eaten an entire flock of canaries, eyes gleaming. "To have one of me for every era? All at once?"

"Can I?" The thought makes your insides quiver, want making you almost dizzy. "You're not...upset with me or anything?"

That makes his eyebrows shoot up, or as close to it as you've ever seen.

"My love, how could your request possibly upset me? If anything, I am flattered that you would hunger after me so." He cups your chin in his hand and brushes his lips across yours. "I would deny you nothing, but I do have terms of my own."

"Tell me." The eagerness in your voice makes him smile again and you almost regret the whole thing immediately, because if there is one thing he doesn't particularly need, it's an ego boost.

"As it happens, my request is also twofold. Firstly, I get to watch." He slides his arms around your waist and pulls you close, and his breath is hot against your ear as he continues; "Secondly, you may have each of me only once, and after you have had your fill, I fully intend to have my own turn with you as well."

"That sounds," the thought of him watching you like that makes the words stick as if your tongue was made of flypaper and you struggle to swallow, getting the words out. "Sounds fair. Why only once though?"

"I admit my motive for that is entirely selfish; I want you lucid enough by the end of it for me to enjoy properly." The way he says it is almost a purr, and if your knees weren't weak before they're certainly starting to get there now. That he would even be willing to indulge you like this wasn't a given, but him outright enjoying it makes you almost giddy.

"Okay. So, this is a bit embarrassing but...I have no idea how this is supposed to work. I didn't really think that far ahead," you admit a bit sheepishly. "Is there anything I should keep in mind at all?"

"Did your appetite get the better of you?" That earns you an outright chuckle, though not unkind. "No matter, I will take care of you," he strokes your cheek with a soft smile. The emphasis on 'take care' doesn't go unnoticed, and it makes anticipation buzz under your skin. "The only thing I require of you tonight is that you enjoy yourself. You need not treat them any differently than myself because, in every way that matters, that is what they are."

"And you're sure that you're alright with this? I don't want you to feel like you're being left out or anything like that." You frown up at him, feeling terribly selfish.

"Your concern is touching but unnecessary, my love." He rubs his thumb over your bottom lip, his tone airy as he continues, "Anything I create for you will be connected to me, and in part, I will share in the sensations."

Flicking his eyes over your shoulder, he steps closer and kisses you deeply, pushing you to take a few steps back until you hit something solid and pair of arms circle your waist from behind. Your heart is beating against your ribs like a bird in a cage and when another pair of hands join in and slides under the hem of your shirt, it feels like all the air leaves your lungs at once. When you whimper into his mouth, he pulls back and has the absolute gall to smirk at you.

"Go on now, indulge yourself to your heart's content. I will be right here, awaiting my turn."

And with that, he saunters over to the sturdy chair by the desk and sits down, in what might be the most nonchalant way you've ever seen. Leaving you there with, well, all of him.

It's a bit like being thrown to a particularly polite pack of ravenous wolves. Being surrounded like this is a bit disorienting and with the way they all eye you hungrily, the thought that you might be in over your head this time flashes in your mind. It's surprisingly gentle though, the way you get passed from one version of him to the next, all of them stepping in close, taking turns, putting you at ease. You've always marvelled at the softness of him, of his skin, but in this mass of bodies and mouths and grasping hands, it feels like you could drown in it.

The way they undress you is no less gentle, one pair of hands passing you to the next until your bare skin is pressed against the myriad of fine fabrics. Some questionable decisions aside he has always dressed well, every texture brushing your skin feeling nothing less than luxurious. It's intense, all the teasing little touches and kisses from every direction, and they don't stop even when you feel like you might implode. The entire time you can feel the way your Morpheus watches you, his gaze on you an almost physical weight.

It's overwhelming, and your knees start to buckle. For a moment you think that you might just sink to the floor, but strong arms steady you as the closest one pulls you to him, the cloth of his tunic so lovely against your heated skin.

"It's alright," he murmurs against your lips, "I've got you."

Pushing one leg between yours he guides your hips, encouraging you to grind against it. It feels better than it has any right to, and when he backs the few steps away to the bed and hauls you on top of him, you don't resist. You're not expecting to come like this, humping his leg like a bitch in heat and ruining his trousers, but the rest of him won't stop touching you and he's watching you and it's simply too much. His slightly longer hair tickles your cheek as you hide your face in the crook of his neck, and with one last slow drag over his thigh, you come, without even meaning to.

Some silly part of your brain feels like you should be apologizing, but when you open your mouth to do just that, this version is gone and you're alone on the bed. You shoot a confused look at your Dream, sitting leisurely in the chair still.

"Did you forget my terms, my love?" He looks like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth as he reminds you, clearly enjoying himself.

Not letting it get to you, you simply set your sights on the next one. It's not as easy as you might have hoped. It's a lot like being a kid in a candy store at this point, they all look so tempting and you just want to devour every single one.

You've always enjoyed a good suit though, and the suit he'd chosen for one of the more recent versions of himself was very good. His hair is shorter than you can recall ever seeing it, and with the ruby shining at his throat, he looks every bit the distinguished gentleman. The sharp lines of the suit are a stark contrast to the rest of him, making the plush pink of his lips look even more inviting. That's probably not the effect he intended, to look kissable rather than imposing, and the thought almost makes you giggle. It doesn't stop you from approaching him and doing just that, though, grabbing hold of his lapels as you do so.

The kiss leaves you winded, the fabric of the expensive-looking suit jacket rubbing deliciously against your nipples.

"This is a good look on you," the words are a bit breathless in their delivery, but they do come easier now, inhibitions crumbling away. The shorter hair feels a bit strange in your hand, not being as much to pull on. It still works though, and he gives easily enough, letting you bite his neck gently, scraping your teeth over the creamy skin. "You should wear a suit more often."

He's a bit too perfect though, still too composed. Undoing the buttons of the vest takes some doing, but you manage it, fingers barely shaking at all. The dress shirt is a lot thinner than what you're used to, and having him so close with almost nothing separating your hands from his skin is maddening.

"Perhaps I shall," the slight curve of his lips makes you want to kiss him again but he grabs your chin, his grip surprisingly gentle as he runs his thumb across your bottom lip. "Tell me what you would like."

You can't resist flicking your tongue out, licking the pad of his finger as you consider your options. When you suck the digit into your mouth he blinks at you slowly, and you can feel him stir through his trousers. It makes your mouth water, makes you know precisely what you want.

"I want to suck you." It comes out as a sigh, full of longing. "Want to come with you in my mouth." Stroking his thighs through the deceptively thin fabric feels wonderful, the muscles of his legs firm under your hands. "Can I? Please?" When you meet his eyes, they are barely blue anymore, the way they reflect the light betraying his true nature.

"You may."

He makes dropping to your knees so easy. Something about kneeling at his feet like this feels right, and as he gets his length out and rubs the tip over your lips you can't stop a small whine from escaping.

"You have the prettiest cock I've ever seen, have I told you that?"

"No." He strokes your hair, gently encouraging you. "Show me."

It's not an order, not quite. Still, he doesn't have to tell you twice. Everything about him is so smooth, his skin like silk as you run your lips over him. At first, you simply lick at the head, teasing fat drops of pre-come out of him, lapping them up like the most precious of pearls. The way they coat your tongue is heady and it always makes you feel oddly powerful, this tangible proof of the effect you have on him. Using your hand to cover what your mouth can't, you start working him in earnest, putting on a bit of a show as you let the drool drip down your chin, drawing the loveliest noises out of him.

The long, shaky exhale as he hits the back of your throat makes you ache.

"Touch yourself for me."

You can't respond, but you can do as he says, so that is exactly what you do. It's hard to do it effectively, but you don't have to be very precise, just the sounds you coax out of him as you bob your head is enough to bring you a good part of the way on their own. From here you can see your Dream from the corner of your eye, and it looks like he wasn't being disingenuous about the "sharing the sensations" part. His cheeks are flushed, legs spread wider than before as he breathes heavily, his eyes never straying from you. Even from here, you can tell that he is painfully hard, the tightness of his jeans does nothing to hide it.

Just to see what he'll do, you decide to press your limits, just a little. In the waking world, you probably wouldn't be able to do it very easily, not like this. But this is the Dreaming, so you relax your throat and take him even further. When you swallow around him the noise he makes above you is a strangled thing and he grabs onto your shoulder, steadying himself.

"Do that again."

When you do, the Dream watching you sags in his seat, knuckles white as he grips the armrests. It doesn't take a lot after that, hearing him and tasting him and watching the way he watches you. It's not as fast as the first time, but you still come faster than you wanted to, your own fingers pushing you over the edge with a few shaky rubs. With the way he fills your throat, you can't even moan as you spasm around nothing, regretting that you hadn't asked for more, to be filled there too.

You wish you could have kept going a while longer but you had agreed to the terms and he holds you to them, though it's less of a surprise this time around. Still just as frustrating though.

"I wasn't finished with that one," you pout at him.

"You were, though." His breathing is still a bit uneven. "Would you rather argue with me, or enjoy the rest of your gift?" Before you can respond he continues, "Or have you perhaps changed your mind? I can take it back if you'd prefer."

"Now you're just being mean." It gets you to your feet and moving again though, not wanting to risk finding out that he's serious. He always looks good so making any kind of choice is still difficult, but you manage. This one you trap against the edge of the desk with your body, caging him in with your arms.

"Why the fuck," you ask, kissing his neck, "are you dressed like a priest? On second thought, don't answer that."

"You seem to like it well enough," he murmurs as you grind your hips into his.

"It's absolutely ridiculous." Twisting the voluminous sleeves you wind the fabric around your hands, using it to pin his wrists to the desk as you bite his neck, perhaps a little bit rougher than you had originally intended.

"Never have I met a creature quite as greedy as you, my love," he groans as you mark him, bruises staining his pale throat prettily. "I would lay my hands on you, if you'd have me. Let me please you."

The way he says it makes it sound so good, so tempting, that you let him go, let him lay you out on top of the desk. This way you're close enough to touch your Dream, so you reach for him, pulling him down for a kiss. Being crowded like this feels better than you had ever imagined as they take turns kissing you, touching you, until you're almost dizzy with lust again.

"Is this..." you pant against his lips as one of his other selves sucks one of your nipples into his mouth greedily, "is it alright, like this?"

Every bit of worry or shame evaporates as he slides a finger into you, though, making you abandon the kiss in favour of watching his hand between your legs. The sleeves might look ridiculous but they feel lovely dragging over the insides of your thighs as he pumps in and out of you slowly. He's always known how to touch you well, and this time is no exception as he adds a second finger, hooking them just so. The way his fingers drag over that one spot inside makes you tremble.

"Can I have some more?" You can feel him grin against your skin at the question, but he doesn't bother to tease you, just adds a third finger, his thumb settling over your clit, just barely touching. The way he ghosts the pad of his finger over it makes you squirm, wanting more still, for him to rub you properly.

"Patience, my sweet," he admonishes you, "I will take care of you, if you let me."

With that, he plunges a fourth finger in and gently presses down on your lower belly, trapping that sensitive spot between the palm of his hand and his fingers. The way he massages you is slow and methodical, as if he has all the time in the world to pull you apart. Every brush of his thumb is light as a feather, and while it makes you want more, you don't strictly need it. You can feel your peak approaching, slow but inevitable.

"If you keep that up I'm going to, "you tangle your hand in his hair, gasping, "make a mess of your desk."

"I know." The way he looks at you then is so smug and just all-around indecent that you can't decide if you want to punch him or kiss him. You barely have time to settle on the latter before pleasure overcomes you, washing over you in powerful waves. You can't remember the last time you were this wet and he's not stopping, whispering encouragements against your lips as you pulse and gush over his fingers with a pitiful little whimper.

The last spasm has barely finished when he leaves you empty, splayed out alone on the desk. Or, not quite alone. This time, the choice isn't yours, another Dream stepping in between your legs before you've barely had time to catch your breath. Compared to the softer fabrics you're accustomed to, the fine leather makes him look sleeker, meaner, though no less inviting.

"This is...different." Running your hands over it, you revel in the buttery feel of it under your fingers. "I think I like it though."

"Of course you do," He doesn't bother to hide the pleased look on his face.

"Hold on, is that..." you pull him down closer, craning your neck to see. "You never told me you had an earring."

"Should I have? It hardly seems important." There is a small wrinkle between his eyebrows, confusion over why something so small could be significant at all. It's pretty adorable.

"Maybe," you hum, wrapping your legs around his waist, petting his hair as you catch the small ring in your teeth, giving it a little pull. He seems to enjoy that, letting out a short exhale of breath as he grinds his hips into you. He's half hard already, uncaring of the mess.

"You can have me like this, if that is what you want." Preoccupied with the earring still you don't respond right away, so he adds, "Unless you would rather play with my jewellery?"

"Sorry." You let it go, albeit reluctantly.

"No need to apologize. If you enjoy it so much, perhaps I should wear it again." His eyes sparkle with mirth as he kisses you, clearly amused by your dumbstruck expression as you imagine the present iteration of him with an earring. "Now, turn over for me."

When he asks like that you can hardly refuse, nor do you want to. At this rate, you're not sure how much more you can take. Being in the Dreaming can only stretch your limits so far, and you're starting to approach yours.

"Wider." The leather of his boots is smooth against your calves as he pushes your legs apart. Once you're arranged to his liking, he leans over you and kisses the back of your neck, his tip prodding your entrance as he rocks his hips gently, not entering just yet. Your Dream is watching you intently, reaching out to twine your fingers together.

"Are you enjoying your gift so far?" The small smile on his lips makes it very obvious that he doesn't expect you to respond in any coherent way. When his other self slides into you, burying himself as far as he will go, they both moan, his grip on your hand tightening.

The pace he sets is slow and deliberate but not very gentle, his grip firm on your hips as he nearly lifts you onto the tips of your toes. Still sensitive from your last orgasm, the way he drives into you with inhuman precision is its own form of torture, pushing you towards the next one with relentless focus.

"Morpheus please, I can't," the words come out in a garbled kind of plea, "it's too much, I can't."

"You can." He sounds so certain, not leaving you any room to argue as he presses himself against you and pushes you down to prevent you from wriggling. "You will."

And he's right, you can feel it. It's a slow burn, like petals unfurling, and it feels like you could swallow him whole, the intensity of it turning your legs to jelly. This isn't the kind of release you can chase, all you can do is wait for it, for him to bring you there.

"You feel so good like this, so plump with pleasure," he sighs, rolling his hips into yours. "Let me feel you." Just hearing his voice brings you closer, he's watching and you're so very nearly there, and then your Dream is kissing you, drinking your every sound like a man parched and he's still talking.

"Come with me." He bottoms out then, and it's either the 'with' or the way he swells so deep inside of you that does it, but you do. It's like melting, like falling, but he catches you, holds you there as you go limp underneath him, hardly able to breathe. He hurtles over that edge right along with you, groaning as he does, but the noise your Dream makes right into your mouth is downright filthy.

Being left empty is no less jarring this time around, but you're more interested in him, the damp spot at the crotch of his jeans. He notices you looking, and lets out an amused little huff of not-quite-laughter, leans his forehead to yours.

"Don't worry, my love," he nips at your bottom lip, eyes dark. "I fully intend to have my turn with you still." He leans back in his chair and drops a kiss on the back of your hand. "Enjoy the rest of your gift. I will be waiting for you."

Flopped bonelessly on top of the desk, you do your best to catch your breath and clear your head. If you had known exactly what you were getting into, you might have been a bit more restrained and not asked for all of him like this, but you're not going to back out now. He's not really letting you either, his mind set on giving you exactly what you asked, for better or worse. When the next pair of hands touch you softly, gliding up the back of your legs, you lean into it, refusing to let him get the better of you as you turn to face him.

"Do you need rest?"

Probably.

"No."

"Very well." If he doubts you, he doesn't show it, leaning over to take the tip of your breast into his mouth.

Something about this version of him is a bit too immaculate, too polished. Everything from the too-rich fabrics of his clothes to the touch of makeup around his eyes makes him look decadent, like a dessert that is just a bit too heavy to stomach more than a mouthful of. There is an honest-to-god ribbon in his hair, tied in the most infuriatingly perfect bow you've ever seen. The effect is maddening; he looks like something you'd like to ruin. And judging by the way he looks at you as he kisses his way down your body, he absolutely knows it.

It's a simple thing for him to haul you to the edge of the desk, leaving you open to him. All his finery makes him look entirely out of place kneeling between your legs, but you can't quite find it in you to care as he kisses you there softly, giving your clit a little flick with the tip of his tongue. Everything is just this side of too sensitive and you flinch away on pure reflex, but he doesn't let you close your legs, keeping them apart with his hands.

His breath is hot on you as he gently laps at you, soothes you with his tongue, almost impossibly soft. Rather than devour you he cleans you, his eyes fixed on yours as he takes every part of you inside his mouth, working his way from the outside in. And in.

The way his cheeks hollow as he sucks at you is nothing short of obscene. The sight alone is enough to make you want him all over again but then he opens his mouth, shows you his tongue coated in his own release and you throb. Watching his adam's apple bob as he swallows makes your mouth go dry and you're not sure what kind of noise you just made but it must have been something to make him smirk at you like that. When he puts his mouth on you again, you bury your fingers in his too-perfect hair.

He is nothing if not determined, wholly uncaring of the fact that you're nearing the limit of how much more you can take. Slipping first one finger into you, then another he sighs, kissing the inside of your thigh.

"I love seeing you like this, all undone for me."

When he puts your aching clit between his lips and gives it a few slow gentle sucks, you can't help clawing at him until the ribbon in his hair comes loose.

"Morpheus, please!" Everything is hazy around the edges and you're not sure if you're begging for more or less or something else entirely, "please, oh please, pl..."

And then there is a mouth on yours, muffling your cries, hands cradling your face. There is almost too much of him like this, so much to touch and his other self is still devouring you like you're the sweetest thing he's ever tasted until you're a quivering mess under his tongue, tense like a bowstring. It's a slow kind of falling apart and you can barely make a sound as he wrenches your release out of you, dragging it out hot and slow, bordering on painful. His hands are the only thing holding you up as he kisses you as if he could swallow you, take you into himself and keep you there.

When the waves of pleasure recede it's almost a relief, finally letting you breathe. Opening your eyes, you think for a split second that you might cry, the way he's looking at you is so soft. No tears fall, but your love for him rises and swells in your chest until it feels like you might burst at the seams, choking you as you wind your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair.

"Take me to bed? Please?"

And he does, they both do. You want to undress him, to peel him out of all those layers, you do, but you're shaking and your fingers can't quite obey, fumbling the buttons until he simply lets all of it fade away and you're pressed between both of them with nothing separating you.

It's a remarkably tender thing, the way they tangle their limbs with yours, kissing every inch of your skin like you're something precious. You vaguely remember how he said that he wanted you "lucid enough to enjoy" but that isn't what he ends up getting, not quite. He doesn't seem to mind though, even as he puts you on your hands and knees.

Despite the exhaustion starting to set in, having his cock right in front of your face like this is a temptation, one you don't bother fighting. Even your mouth feels clumsy as you take him in, wanting him in any way you can get. When his other self starts easing into you from behind you can't keep a whine back, overstimulated nearly to the point of tears.

"Shhh, just let me..." He whispers, pressing kisses to your back, long hair sliding over your skin like strands of silk, "just let me..."

And you do, letting him sink in as far as he will go. He rocks against you so gently, like he's worried you might break. At this rate, it feels like you might. Trapped between the both of them like this, the only thing you can really do is let them, let him, use you. When he puts his hand between your legs and starts stroking you, it feels like he might actually drive you mad.

"Just one more, my sweet," he whispers, his breath tickling the back of your neck, "one more for me, then you can rest."

Every slide of his finger over your swollen clit feels like ice, like fire, and you can't even move away. You feel like a worn-out spring being wound up too tightly, but he is utterly determined to coax one more climax out of you, not stopping even when you start whimpering. When your walls start fluttering around him, weakly at first, you swirl your tongue shakily over the tip of his cock, the shared sensations making him moan.

"You're doing so well," he pants, stroking your hair with a not-quite-steady hand.

You can tell that he's just as close as you are, swelling inside you and on your tongue, and you want him to come with you, properly this time. The noise he makes as you take him into your throat is a shattered thing, he's barely holding on and his eyes are black and that finally makes the tension inside you snap with a strength that wracks your entire body. When you swallow it's more on reflex than anything else but it's enough to push him over the edge right along with you, pulsing down your throat and in your cunt with a sound that isn't exactly human, either.

As you come down from your high everything is a bit of a blur, every part of your body is aching as the tension finally drains out of you. The only thing you have energy for is collapsing on the bed in an ungraceful heap. He wastes no time pulling you to him though, chest heaving for breath you know he doesn't strictly need. When you start shivering, he conjures a blanket to cover you, holds you close. He's never been a selfish lover but the tenderness of the gesture still makes your heart constrict in something like pain, knowing he might not be there for your next birthday. You've always known what he is so you try not to mourn prematurely, covering your worry with humour instead.

"Dream?"

"Yes, my love?" He kisses the top of your head softly, content for now.

"Do Endless have birthdays?"

#dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #sandman x reader #sandman x you #sandman smut #dream of the endless smut #the sandman fanfiction #my shitty shitty writing (affectionate)

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backtotheshitshow · 4 months

Text

Wood & Words (part 3)

Woodworker! James Potter X Princess!reader

Warning: ANGST!! Like ugh I wrote it and I’m tearing up. Kinda proof read. Also this is like a long one so…enjoy.

Part1 part2

A small knock caught James’ attention as he was cutting down the legs for a stool.

He immediately stoped what he was doing and truned to the door.

“You’re late.” He said with a smile.

“I didn’t realise i had a preset time to be here.” Y/n laughed.

“No but you’re usually here before nine..” James explained.

“I’m sorry I was with my mother.” Y/n said stepping into the wood shed.

“It’s alright I’m only teasing.” James laughed, he took a quick glance at her while he measured the stool leg. She was wearing a different type of dress today, not the same neckline she tended to favour.

He couldn’t help but take notice of how soft her collarbone and neck looked, and wonder how it might look if he were to simply grab her and leave a few small love marks.

“You seem in a good mood this morning. May I ask why?” Y/n sat herself against a barrel set near James’ work bench.

“Am I not allowed to be happy.?” He turned to her, trying to push away his inappropriate thoughts.

“Oh no. I much prefer the grumpy tradesman persona you have going on. Quite mysterious I would say.” She grinned, as she was taking in how he looked in the morning light she noticed a bandage on his hand. A medium sized patch of red had soaked through.

James began to speak. “I know you think your joking but I know that you-“

“You’re hurt.” She said immediately walking over to him and taking his hand gently, to examine it.

“Oh ah just a mishap with a saw. I’ll be fine.” He said looking down at her with a small smile, she looked adorable with her eyebrows scrunched together with concern. That fact that she was concerned about him made it all the more pleasant.

She didn’t trust that he was being completely honest about the severity of his injury.

“May I see.” She said looking up at him. He wanted to protest and tell her that it was simply and occupational hazard but the look in her eyes was begging him to let her take care of it and who was he to deny the princess of what she wanted.

He nodded allowing her to unravel the bandage.

James’s expression softened as his breath caught in his throat. His face flushed, as he stood still, letting her inspect it.

His expression was almost apologetic, as if her concern was misplaced.

“Really it’s nothing.” He muttered, in the past he would have simply just refused her help all together. But now he was in too deep, this woman had a hold on him, and his mind was telling him to let her have whatever she asked for.

She let out a quiet gasp when she laid eyes on the wound.

“Surely this must be painful, why haven’t you taken care of this properly?” She seemed upset at him for having such little concern for his on wellbeing.

James shifted slightly, embarrassed at her visible concern.

"It's fine, really," he lied as his cheeks grew hotter. James had never been one to complain, and he couldn't stand how upset she was... she was so cute.

He was so used to taking care of himself, so he rarely asked for help. Now he felt his resolve crumbling under this woman's concerned gaze, her gentle words and her soft hands.

“Sit down.” She said nudging him towards the barrel she previously sat on.

James hesitated, his face telling her that he knew he should, but his stubborn nature getting in the way. Eventually he acquiesced to her soft demand, plopping down on the barrel and letting out a sigh.

Y/n grabbed a rag that looked somewhat clean, and walked to the sink in the small part of the wood shed that look like a very old kitchen, running the rag under some warm water.

She can back over. “It’s very careless of you to leave such a deep cut without cleaning it. Do you have no regard for your health?”

James didn’t answer he looked away embarrassed about how angry she seemed at him for ignoring his own needs.

As she took care to clean the wound, James just sat there, staring at her, mesmerized by her every movement. She was so soft and delicate, handling him without force.

She was just about finished wrapping the wound when she noticed his staring and stopped. She couldn’t move under his intense gaze.

“Just…be more considerate of yourself please.” She said in a soft tone as she slowly lost herself in his eyes.

Y/n didn’t know what came over her, she as never this bold, but in all fairness she never did think to straight when he was looking at her.

She kissed him.

James's heart skipped a few beats as the Princess's lips pressed against his.

He'd been thinking about how pretty she was, being lost in her eyes for a split second before the sweet caress of her lips caught him by surprise.

He'd never been one to receive affection, at least not for years now, and certainly not this quickly and unexpectedly. His mind was a dizzying combination of shock, confusion and elation.

“I….i shall see you tomorrow.” She whispered and before James knew it she was gone.

……..

The following day James waited patiently for the princess’s arrival trying to keep himself busy.

It began to get late. James had spent the day organising the shed and sweeping sawdust. He was beginning to get tired.

After the kiss they shared the precious day it was hard for him to get a good nights sleep.

By the time she arrived the sun had already settled behind the horizon, leaving the shed only lit by lanterns here and there.

“Why have you come so late?” James asked. He noted that she was not in her usual bubbly mood the expression on her face looked almost ashamed.

She ignored his question

“I’ve come to apologise James. My actions yesterday were inappropriate.” She said stopping at the door.

James couldn't contain his shock. Was her kiss really a mistake?

"W-what did you say??" he replied. To him it had been a beautiful and romantic gesture, perhaps even a sign that she felt something for him.

But maybe his judgment had been clouded and now she was telling him she'd made a mistake. James felt his heart drop.

“Yesterday when..I kissed you. I’ve given it some thought over night and It was entirely inappropriate and improper. I hope you forgive me.” She looked away ashamed of herself.

James was speechless. He had been expecting an entirely different response. He had thought she felt some sort of attraction towards him and the way her eyes had blazed in the sunlight when they’d kissed had been beautiful and he’d been hoping to do it again.

But it seemed the whole thing was a mistake– a spur of the moment thing she’d probably thought about too late.

“W-wait, you’re sorry we kissed?”

“I…yes I. It was wrong of me to do so.”

James sat stunned for several moments as he processed what she’d said. Was she truly ashamed of kissing him? His eyes narrowed as his stomach dropped in disappointment.

Perhaps she had thought about the kiss afterward and then realized he wasn’t someone she was that attracted to. Was he not someone she found desirable? He bit his lip and felt a pang of sadness he hid behind a wall of anger.

“You wish we hadn’t shared that kiss?”

“That’s- not what I’m saying.”

James narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow. Why was she backtracking if that wasn’t what she’d meant? What had she meant then?

James’s thoughts raced as he tried to read between the lines, trying to guess what it was that she was trying to get at.

“But did you… Did you enjoy it? Did you not like the kiss?!”

“I did, yes of course I did…but it was clearly inappropriate….im sorry I put you in such an uncomfortable situation. Please do not be kind for my sake.” She noticed James seemed to be getting quite upset.

James was taken aback and couldn't help but grimace at her last statement. She didn't want him to be 'kind' to her?

Did she honestly think he was just being kind? He was beginning to grow irritated at her insistence on claiming the kiss was inappropriate.

"What's the matter? Am I not someone worthy of that kind of affection?" He said.

“Oh course you are! I’m simply saying I shouldn’t have put in a situation like that.” She explained.

James's eyebrows furrowed and he felt himself grow angry and frustrated. He couldn't understand why she was so insistent on claiming she was the one at fault. James raised his voice in exasperation.

"I'm not a child! I can make my own decisions about what situations I feel I am or am not comfortable in and you shouldn't be the one deciding such things for me!"

Y/n was shocked at his outburst.

“I’m sorry. I just…..,excuse me” she turned around quickly as she blinked back a tear or two..

The way she was abruptly leaving now was angering James even more. What was she thinking? He felt his emotions boiling over and could not let her leave like this.

"No, you're not getting away that easily." *James grabbed her by the wrist firmly.

"You're not going to just leave and ignore this. You're going to hear me out."

James took a deep breath and tried to rein himself in. He was still seething with anger but knew that yelling more was only going to make the situation worse. He loosened his grip on her wrist.

"Look, I just don't understand why you're claiming it was inappropriate. We're two adults. We're capable of deciding what is appropriate and inappropriate ourselves.

You say you enjoyed it, so I don't see why you're so adamant on telling me it was somehow a mistake or inappropriate." He looked at her with pained eyes.

“Do you not think I am aware that you only tolerate my company due myself being the princess! I may seem bit ditsy but I’m not stupid!”

James's eyes widened and he shook his head furiously. The Princess didn't believe that he actually liked her?

He thought that the Princess was adorable, witty and intelligent and he'd never felt quite this way about anyone before.

To hear she thought he didn't enjoy spending time with her was painful.

"That's not true! I love spending time with you! I enjoy you like I've never enjoyed anyone else before! How in gods name could you think that?!"

Tear began to well in the princess eyes. She was angry and confused and James was yelling at her. She didn’t like him yelling at her.

“I-I-Idon’t know I just thought ….I’m sorry.” A small crack in her voice came at the end of her sentence.

James's eyes widened as he saw the hint of moisture in her eyes. He felt so bad for having snapped at her like that and suddenly his anger melted away to concern. He felt a sudden overwhelming urge to comfort and protect this beautiful girl. The thought of seeing tears in her eyes was unbearable. He moved closer to her and lifted his hand to brush away the wetness in her eyes.

At his touch, James felt his anger and frustration melt away. How could he stay mad at such a delicate and vulnerable girl? Her beauty was truly astonishing but now James realised she was much more than that.

She was also emotional and he could see exactly what she was feeling on her face. She was sensitive and kind despite her title and her beauty and that was more than enough reason for him to want to protect her. He wished she'd realize her worth.

“I-I should be going.” She said

James felt a sudden rush of emotion he didn't know how to handle. But he did not want to let her leave like this. He didn't want her to think he was just being kind to her. The Princess was so wrong about her own self worth and he just could not let her leave thinking that.

“No. You're not going anywhere.” James said firmly and with conviction, wrapping his are around her waist.

to be continued

———-

If you thought this had drama. Just you wait…,*evil laugh*

Taglist:

@valenftcrush

#james potter #marauders #james potter angst #james potter imagine #james potter x reader #james potter au #james potter x y/n #james potter x shy!reader

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artytaeh · 14 hours

Text

hello. hi! 🌷 do i have your attention now? nice. ♡

because let me tell you something, reader; if you were to date theodore nott, your spot— yours and theo's, the corner of hogwarts that belongs to you, where he doesn't take any other girl and you better not take any other boy, is the astronomy tower.

♡ : SMOKING UNDER THE STARS, as the smoke joins the fog and few clouds seen in the night sky, is a time of the day that theodore enthusiastically awaits— from the moment he wakes up, to the time he falls asleep, tolerating classes with the hope of night arriving at a faster pace. sometimes, theo even uses those classes to sleep; a slumber over the wooden surface of those desks, all for the sake of being able to be fully awake for a few more hours, later when he's with you.

initially, theodore feels somewhat guilty to indulge a new bad habit of yours; constantly fighting with his conscience and that selfishness of his, because theodore longs for the companionship— for a woman that embraces his whole being. not just the attractive part, not just the pleasant lust; to have someone accepting his problems that have those nasty, bad habits as a coping mechanism, a consequence.

when you share a cigarette with him, theodore doesn't know whether he finds it terribly attractive (the sight of your lipstick lingering on the cigarette, where he puts his lips too, an indirect kiss [how childish of him, to think that!]) or if theodore nott should melt in front of you.

a drag from that cigarette you share, is perceived as a gentle try to take a weight from his shoulders. someone willing to listen. to know, to show interest about what breaks his heart, even though theodore is a challenging person to get any kind of personal information from.

theo runs up those stairs as if the dark lord himself was chasing him— he runs with a huge grin on his face, like a bloody child in christmas' morning; however, theodore takes a deep breath, brushes his long fingers through his hair, regains his stoic posture; as if he had taken his sweet time getting there.

as if that hand of his doesn't twitch in excitement to open this damn door, that is keeping you and him at a room of distance.

and when you smile at him, waving with your lighter in hand, one that he has put on stickers and silly doodles for each smoking session together?

theodore nott accepts the fate of his broken heart; pieces melting like butter in a pan, mushing together with hope as glue, daring to slowly put the pieces back together— if someone is capable of mending theo's heart and belief of being a lost cause, it's you.

and all you had to do was listen and smile at him.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

♡ : STARGAZING WITH THEODORE NOTT is a must; an unofficial date of yours, even before you started dating. at first, blankets are brought to lay on top of them; because the night wasn't chilly yet. however, when winter approaches hogwarts with snowy days and cold nights, the chance to share a blanket isn't wasted by theo— who nonchalantly wraps his arm around your shoulders, bringing the blanket with him, so your backs and arms are warm with the soft, warm fabric. this nonchalance, this smooth movements of theodore; they're all a facade, because his mind races with prayers that you're not able to hear his heart beating so loudly inside his ribcage.

theodore used to think that winter is a bothersome season; having to wear more layers of clothes, waking up in the middle of the night from the cold breeze (blaise has this irritating habit of leaving windows open to ventilate the bedroom) or because he, unconsciously, kicked the sheets away only to wake up freezing cold.

now, winter is a prayer, is a pleading to the gods or whoever deity brings the snow, the cold, the fog, the rain, the cold wind: "Dio mio, per favore, rendilo freddo come l'Antartide, così posso coccolare la mia ragazza con una scusa!" (God of mine, please, make it as cold as Antarctica, so I can cuddle my girl with an excuse!)

he brings a blanket. why not two? you'd ask one fateful night; theo was thankful for his wit, for that quick tongue of his, because the excuse he found was believable enough.

apparently, mattheo riddle is easily cold; and impolite, too, since he steals some of theodore's rightful blankets to warm himself up.

huh, who'd say that about the dark lord's son. thankfully, hopefully, this white lie will never reach mattheo's ears.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

♡ : DEEP CONVERSATIONS ABOUT EVERYTHING AND ANYTHING, shouldn't be a surprise for you either. after all, despite his group of friends being constituted by a doberman willing to fight any moving student, a womanizer with a pretty face, mama's boy from the quidditch team and nepo baby gone wrong— theodore nott is an intelligent young man.

and truthfully, as much as theo adores his friends and having a laugh with them... nothing beats these conversations between you two. where theodore has asked you about your philosophy; what do you believe? in your perspective, deities exist? what happens after you die? how are your dreams like? where would you go, if you could go to anywhere in the world? after hogwarts, what will you do— he wants to know your idealistic and realistic plans!

the more he learns about you, the deeper he falls for you, he thinks.

even when you tell him about some silly fear of yours. despite that embarrassment moment that you retold him, making the two of you laugh and almost cough amidst the smoke. those little quirks, even things you'd be ashamed to tell anyone else, your deepest, most secret thoughts...

theodore nott loves them all.

his blue eyes, unfeeling and void of any happiness, soften at the sight of you. theo perceives you as the most perfect being in the world— his Dea.

Dea mia, he calls you in his own thoughts. theodore discovers that he admires your flaws, more than he ever tolerated anyone else's— qualities and good traits can be shared among many people.

but flaws? thoughts, ideologies, habits? that makes you, well, you.

that's what makes his Dea different from other girls of your house. that mole that you find silly, that insecurity that you wished to remove from your body, that habit of yours when you're nervous or when you have to lie— those are so charming to him.

it's charming because it's you, theodore admits to himself one day, when he's smoking alone, already missing you by his side. such a realization makes him sigh.

wasn't love the most terrifying emotion, for a boy who only knew pain and devastation?

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

♡ : HOWEVER, YOU MUST KNOW THAT when something is wrong— be it a stressful day for theodore, a letter from his father, a wave of depression, a fight between you two; he'll be there. on the spot you share, that little secret of yours: the astronomy tower.

he'll be there; be it because he finds a shade of comfort to be there where you've spent time with him once, or because some silly part of him hopes that you'll notice his missing presence, that somehow, you'll read his thoughts and know that he needs you.

even if theodore is angry with you, he'll wait there. unconsciously, of course! i doubt that theo himself rationalizes this habit, of seeking refuge on the place that "belongs" to you and him, as a way to await for the moment where you'll find him, to talk things over.

even if he'll be smoking his lungs out of stress, out of anger, out of sadness, out of hope that maybe if he smokes enough, he'll drop dead with his sorrow.

depending on what he's feeling and the reason why he's there, waiting for you . . .

theo hugs you tightly. of course, such a thing requires a closer relationship with him; even as a friend, theodore will find comfort on you. to have your body inside his arms, to feel your warmth, your scent; suddenly, that hopelessness inside his heart, that void, is filled with love for you. theodore nott doesn't cry; it's weak to do so. what the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel— so if he buries his face on your shoulder and you feel your clothes getting wet from tears... well, that might be your imagination. for the sake of his sanity and peace, please, don't comment about it. just hug him back. theo doesn't feel the kindness of comfort ever since his mother died.

theo averts his gaze, taking a drag of his cigarette before opening his heart. this would be a consequence of a stressful day. usually where anger for himself and hatred towards his father subsides to melancholy. an anguished cry of his heart, where theo isn't sure if he's allowed to pity himself or to scream at the world for what he lacked, what he deserved to have during his childhood and teenage years. he'll take to you, eventually— maybe after a cigarette or two. because theodore knows that whatever you talk there, won't leave those four walls. that's how much he trusts you.

theo leans against the window frame, smoking, pretending as if he didn't see you entering the tower and walking towards him. letting you lead the conversation, introducing the topic of that fight between the two of you. as intelligent and witty as he is, theodore couldn't start a sincere conversation about feelings, honesty and vulnerability even if his life depends on it.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

but please, for the sake of everything, DON'T BRING ANOTHER BOY THERE. not to the astronomy tower— to yours and theo's secret place, a silent agreement between you two, that this is a spot, a moment, a deal that is special and exclusive to the other.

after all, before theo can feel sadness, anger will consume him like a vicious virus. fury boils on his blood, spreads through his veins, as jealousy burns on that aching (and fragile) heart of theodore nott's at the sight of his ragazza with someone else.

the silent threat of someone being on his rightful place— oh, that drives him insane.

so, like a child, like an immature and impulsive guy, theodore returns the favor: bringing another girl there. anyone, really; the first one that falls to his feet.

and he'll kiss her there, too. theo's lips show no mercy, roughly kissing that girl that he barely remembers the name, imagining that it's you on his lap— as if he's taking revenge on you for breaking his heart, diminishing the value that theo thought he had. out of spite, he'll bite that girl's lip; making it hurt, almost bleed, when his mind cruelly invades his thoughts with the image of you and that bastard smiling in the astronomy tower.

a place that should be reserved for him.

soon, theo regrets this. as awful as it sounds, he's not particularly worried about that girl's feelings— he's worried about yours. theodore panics at the idea of you finding out, as if he hadn't done this to get some sick sense of revenge, of having his feelings avenged in some kind of way.

and you betrayed this silent agreement first!

nevermind that. theo is terrified that if you find out he did this, then any chance he build up with you, with such effort and daydreams, is crushed by his stupid, impulsive hot-headed behavior of his.

theo genuinely despises the idea of having another woman by his side, on that window frame, touching his pack of cigarettes; lighting them up with a lighter that isn't yours. engage conversation with someone that isn't you, on those nights spent talking and smoking together.

it doesn't matter if you find out or not— theodore shows up at your door, with flowers on his hands; picked by himself, stolen from professor pomfrey's garden. his abandonment issues, the terror of the idea of being alone as he was before he had a glimpse of you, makes the prideful slytherin beg.

and he does. no more games. no more longing gazes that wonder if the feelings are mutual or not.

he wants to be yours. please, be mine. his blue eyes gaze into yours, seeking for the truth of your soul, pleading for a sign that you were meant to be. sii la mia ragazza, non riesco a respirare quando non sei vicino. soffocherò senza di te.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

the next time you enter the astronomy tower, you'd find that the place had a different tranquility to it. something like little lamps, with a blanket on the floor— facing the window, where the stars shine so bright, as if the universe required such a beautiful starry sky for you and theo only; nevermind the students who are already sleeping, exhausted from the day full of classes.

theo didn't have the time to buy you something; at his command, there were only food and snacks in the castle's kitchen, warm blankets, pillows and two willing best friends to help.

( while lorenzo kept giving suggestions to further increase the romance of this surprise date between the two of you, looking more excited about it than theo himself— well, mattheo riddle lends more than a hand, to make sure that he'd stop hearing such nonsenses about you. every. single. day. from the moment when theo wakes up sighing because of you, eats as he steals glances at your table, rambles about you and dares to avert each topic to your existence. mattheo might sympathize with you— but god, theo is so in love with you, that mattheo's eye starts twitching at the mention of your name. )

it's for the best if you don't make him wait; in those five minutes that he spent waiting for you, theo fixed the blanket to be an inch straighter. two minutes in, and theodore considers changing the position of the blanket and those snacks perfectly pilled up, his mind playing tricks that this blanket is crooked.

and he stresses. as if he'd lose the love of his life because he couldn't put a blanket on a perfect straight position. thirty seconds later, he's fixing the places he put the lamps; checking with an attentive eye if they're symmetrical.

maybe he should have brought a ruler.

because there's nothing else he can fix, theo's critical eye stares at the snacks. some he likes, most of them food that he knows you like.

however, theo is panicking. what if you're suddenly allergic to a food he brought?

does he know how to deal with a person having an allergic reaction?

thankfully, this paranoia spiraling on that genius mind of his reaches its end— the door opens, and you enter the astronomy tower; eyes shining at the sight of that familiar room, now decorated. beautifully decorated. the cherry on top is theodore nott standing there: smiling at you, looking somewhat shy, because theo never really put such an effort for someone.

never cared this much. never loved this much. never craved the approval, never needed the praise from someone of his age.

you spend hours there. if theo was nervous at first, such anxiety dissipates into thin air— the familiarity of being alone with you here, in the astronomy tower, calming his senses, subsiding such a silly nervousness with the happiness of being with you.

you definitely cuddle. and if you two fall asleep there, in each other's arms, probably holding hands, warm between blankets and pillows— well, that's a secret shared between you two.

morning arrives with the interruption of such peaceful slumber; the sunrise bringing too much light for you both. of course, theo walks you to your dorm, even to your room if you let him; saying goodbye with a tender, soft kiss that displays the vulnerability of his stolen heart.

heart that is on your hands. heart that remains with you, as he walks away to his own dorm, already missing you. your scent. your voice. your touch, your warmth.

and even though you'd have to wake up in a few hours for breakfast at the great hall— well, theo still misses you, anyways.

unable to sleep, theo spends those three hours looking at the ceiling. a silly smile on his face, that makes mattheo riddle groan at the sight of this.

god. theodore nott would NOT shut the fuck up for a whole month.

౨ৎ you know where to find me, ♡ ͡

and i know where to look . . .

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— by far, my weakest work. but it was written in fifteen minutes, so why not post it! as always, you're more than welcome to interact with me + send messages. tysm for the feedback!

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

#theodore nott #theodore nott dating #theodore nott x reader #theo nott headcanons #theo nott x reader #theo nott dating #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x you #harry potter universe #hp fandom #drabbles #scenarios

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