#i try so hard to be idk mature?

[pseudonemisis]

half the of the time I'm just a silly little guy and the other half I'm confused why everyone thinks I have autism

[dukeofthomas]

Do you see my vision

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

I think the funny thing about my being a youth leader is that I basically just Hang Out with a bunch of middle schoolers. like I just pal around with them and play games and then sit down and ramble at the youth pastor when it's time to discuss the Biblical topic of the night and somehow this has charmed like half a dozen of them into considering me A Cool Person despite the fact that I'm actually Introverted And Awkward at all times

[faillen]

.

[shentm]

outsider still doesn't feel complete to me but i'm leaving it here for now. blade pov, no beta we die like baiheng, check tags for trigger warnings

dreamwidth mirror, which by the way is the more updated and also likely more permanent version of this piece, as this tumblr post always runs the risk of deletion anytime i'm awake past 11pm

The dream catches itself on those at the center of the tragedy, locking on to the minds already half-emptied by mara. It watches, as the nights repeat, as the hunt grows farther from its purpose.

He's covered in it, clothes slick with blood, the moonlight sliding off of it and watching him through the reflection. Every time he shows up, Jing Yuan has to stay awake for hours afterward, scrubbing at the floors to rid his home of the stains and the stench of mara-stricken beasts. It doesn't help that he likes to trail his sword behind, leaving gouges that the blood flows through, pooling in divots and seeping into the cracks between. But it's not like Jing Yuan expected him to be different.

An Outsider, who participated in a horrific ritual, and became tethered to the merging of paths, a creation of a collector who found the occurrence too interesting to resist. Who was given the abundance emanator's blessing, transforming him into something thought of as prey by most of the Xianzhou Alliance. It's strange that he's still sane sometimes, occasionally managing to break the contradictory resonance of intertwined paths where the hunt and the abundance intersect.

In the shared dream he sees the echoes of those he once knew, dead beings recreated in a perfect recollection of the waking world. It's just how he remembers, an everlasting reminder of what they did. He's drawn in when asleep and awake, unable to escape the repetition of memory.

In that intersection of paths he sometimes finds the shadow of the Imbibitor Lunae running away and away, too afraid to face his crimes. He finds the corpse of a dragon protected by its unborn kin, and tears it apart instead of looking back. He fights through the same landscapes again and again, always waking up in front of the same dim lamp. The only reason he can think of for this endless repetition is that someone out there likes these memories, wants to see the moment of the sin done right.

Skin melts against skin, fire burning through hair. The wet noise of a blade squelching as it rips through meat is the only sound that interrupts the guttural screaming of those beasts, displacing the cries with blood down their throats. Their pathetic existences mirror his own. Eyes press against his brain where they grow inside his skull, amplifying the beats of his heart. A constant high pitched whine carries through the sky, staying with him wherever he goes. Physical discomfort keeps him in the dream, afraid of what deeper pain awaits with the dawn of wakefulness.

He sees her too, sometimes, guarding the path before the corpse. She sees him in return, and they always meet in a clash of swords, the moon almost close enough to touch. It watches next to them, the blue light of her own weapon brilliant against the clouded orange sky. There was never any other choice; a recreation can only travel down the path of the original, like wheels in a rut on a dried dirt road. They tell each other that the dream will end. He continues the hunt again.

The dream is an awful thing to endure. He wonders about its purpose when cleaning his blade that Jingliu so kindly returned.

Dan Feng never acknowledges him, never admits to what he did, never even calls him by name. But it's clear that despite the physical differences, he's still the same arrogant coward that lives in the dream. How else would Dan Feng manage to kill him every time with the weapon he forged with his own once-deft hands, buying useless time before his inevitable judgement?

When he wakes up it is only a brief moment of respite from the dream as clear-cutting pain reminds him of his immortality. Sleep comes with the soothing promise of comfort, but also with the knowledge that it will not be restless.

Later he joins the Stellaron Hunters, gets taken in despite being on the brink of insanity. Feels the frenzy slipping away with Kafka's words, feels the understanding leave his mind. Turns him into a docile puppet, waiting for the next command. He names himself Blade. She gives him the first genuine rest he's had in seven hundred years.

His senses are diluted with her influence, not enough to render him completely useless, but enough to clear his mind. It's mostly just his sight that's a problem, and it's easy enough to counter with his other senses. The other one is touch, but he doesn't expect that to really be important. He does most of his hunting with a sword anyways, distanced enough from his prey.

He's never gone back to the Luofu personally. Once or twice through the years he hears news of its whereabouts, and soon has those reminders taken from his mind, rendering his sleep dreamless yet again.

He doesn't go back because he's not done hunting.

But at some point it was bound to happen, the meeting of three tragic sinners and that other guy who was also there.

A mission brings him back to the Luofu, and he doesn't complain because his mind is too empty to think. He tries to think of himself as just a simple vessel to help Elio carry out his plot. A stagehand for the endless show that they try to put on. It's quite nice, being like this, the desperately needed reprieve from the eyes that always try to crawl their way back into his brain. It's not easy to forget once your body has learned.

Kafka says the mission went well. Elio says he can break the tether now. He doesn't remember any of it, except from the brief moment of clarity when Jing Yuan asked him if he was done, and then the consciousness when he wakes up later.

Jing Yuan looks the same now as he did all those years ago, except for the young shadow he keeps at his side. He's still just as radiant as the sun, the center of everything he joins. Of course a comet like himself was never meant to stay long in Jing Yuan's orbit. The sun does not need to change when a dirty snowball cuts through its orbit after centuries of desolation in the universe; the sun burns bright on its own, without a need for a secondary light.

None of them are, were, like that, just a product that reflected their surroundings instead of the magnetic core that shaped their era. Maybe that's why they're all criminals wandering the stellar seas now, shot out from the gravity well and driven by their own definitions of the hunt.

But eventually he feels the searing pain start to fade when he chokes awake on drying blood, glances over at the dissolving bodies next to him. The eyes can no longer see. Kafka helps with her lightning, and soon the only physical links left are those burning wounds inside his brain.

Between puddles of blood and dripping black stone he wakes up, and the night grows deeper but the streetlights start burning. He collaborates, strangely, with Dan Heng (a new trailblazer) to force Jing Yuan back into his bed. He sees the artificial sunrise a few times, occasionally with Kafka, and sometimes just on his own. The sight of a celestial object rising behind the clouds has been one he's not seen for a while, even if it is still a false sun.

It's done, the dream has an end. The hunt is over, its conclusion long since found.

He meets the one who couldn't let go in the waking world, both of them more alive than they should be. Neither of them deserve to be here, yet they sully the Luofu with their presence anyways, carving and gouging out a place where they no longer belong.

She meets him with the same intensity she always carries, unable to be diminished by time or a dream's veil, and he feels alive as they dance the familiar battle once again, for what may be the last time. Unlike the cycles before them, this time it feels like a breaking of bonds, like something being set free.

On the last night of his stay on the Luofu he ends up at Jing Yuan's family home after he manages to separate from the dream, and he's lucky that Jing Yuan still stays here even after seven hundred years. Conveniently, Dan Heng mentions that Yanqing would be dragging the Luofu's heroic trailblazer on some sort of sword-hunting adventure on that day.

"Yingxing," Jing Yuan says when he enters civilly through the window, "please stop dripping blood on the floor."

It's that name that breaks him into the clearest state of mind he's had for centuries. That and the newfound control over his own mind, now that the moon no longer watches him. Jing Yuan still sounds the same, calls him with the same tone of voice. When's the last time anyone's referred to him as Yingxing? When's the last time he's been able to hear that name without his consciousness slipping through the cracks?

"Jing Yuan," he responds, and he's suddenly aware of the winds outside, carrying with them a fine mist of pollen that coats everything in a layer of grit, sticking to the drying blood on his clothes. He's aware of the artificial moonlight that gazes into the room, blue in tone and so much softer than the harsh orange red in his sleep. He can feel the silence of the home, where four others once gathered and where only one stays now.

"That's not my name."

The dream tries to call to him, but its voice is quiet here.

Jing Yuan reclines on the mass of pillows he calls a bed, and when he shifts he can hear the sound of feathers scratching at their confinements. He hears his pulse in his head, reviving nerves once thought to be dead, and he can feel the tingling sensation where it creeps through his limbs.

The air is cold where it hits his skin. It's been so long since he's been able to feel the temperature. He looks at Jing Yuan, and he can see the shine in his eyes, the strands of his hair where it was only a blurred image before. The world is clearer than it's ever been. It's like getting glasses. Do they still have those?

Jing Yuan grounds him in the present, the physicality distracting him from the broken link between his mind and that all-seeing eye disguised as the moon. The moon here on the Luofu is fake, as is the rest of the sky over most of the ship. The mara-stricken here do not scream as they claw at their faces, nor do they tear apart their prey with overwhelming strength.

He can touch and be touched now, acutely aware of the blood on his face, his body, his hands, the stains across the sheets and the fabric where he dares to rip them apart, but it doesn't matter in the moment. Cauterized wounds of foreign eyes that once grew inside his head start to make their presence known again, but they don't try to regrow. Flesh, not his own, knits itself together when he lets go, and the scent of iron permeates the air.

He's never been a particularly selfless lover. He bites down again.

"Ren," Jing Yuan says, quiet with an edge of something else. The false moon silently hangs behind the clouds, diffused into a hazy shower of light. The metallic taste of blood fills his mouth.

Jing Yuan is just as pliant for him now as he was centuries ago, body remembering and opening its vulnerabilities for him so readily. The heat in his head is easily ignored in favor of the heat beneath his hands. It's easy to get lost in the chase to consume and feed, but he reins himself in with the control he thought he'd lost a long time ago.

An Outsider, on equal ground with the Luofu's general, if only for one night. An Outsider, carving his own mark into the Xianzhou's history.

He finds Jing Yuan again after all these centuries, and he's still just as passionate as he's always been, fervent energy and primal fear driving him deeper into the desperate desire to stake a claim of his own.

[kyouka-supremacy]

Soo about what I asked you what do you think of yosano x higuchi

I said in the reply there I think higuchi is in her early 20's so therfore an adult

You didn't really say what do you think of this pairing outside of wanting to know how old is higuchi so can you say what do you really think of it?

Mmmhh idk, I don't have any strong feeling about it? I don't think I can picture them together romantically

[parkinglothater]

feeling insane insane insane insane insane insane

[majorluz]

reaches into my brain and violently plucks out the piece that makes me a huge jealous bitch

[username-that-isnt-my-name]

man today i had to buy additional kitchen supplies like measuring cups bc i didnt have any of my own

and now i do have them so i dont have to spend any additional money again in the future

but whew

that plus groceries this week is hurtin my pocket book

[m0llygunn]

shy girl (eddie munson x fem!reader)

summary: typically shy, you aren't good at telling eddie what you want. finally brave enough to ask, eddie happily rewards you

cw: 18+!, mature language, petnames, smut, pinv sex (unprotected), creampie, anal fingering, shy/nervous first time anal reader idk, lots of praising, porn with very little plot an: wrote this a while ago and was suppose to be a 3 part butt stuff saga lol but i probably won't do the other 2 parts if im being honest. makes sense alone, theres just clearly a segue for the other parts at the end. kind of edited but not really. wc: 3.6k+

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Your stomach clenches, whole body quivering with nerves.

“Y’okay?” he asks from behind you, finger just barely brushing over the focus of tonight.

“M’okay,” you answer tentatively.

“You don’t sound okay?”

“I want to do this,” you say with an exhale, forcing your muscles to relax. You drop the side of your head further into the plushness of the pillow, back arching deeper as you breathe away the low vibrations of your nervousness. 

His hands rise up your lower back, palms flat to your skin. “You don’t have to.” He glides both thumbs up the sides of your spine before rounding them outwards, massaging an achy spot you didn’t know existed. You relax into it, taking another breath. 

“I want to, Eddie. Wanna try it.”

His thumbs return to the base of your spine before gliding upwards, doing it all again. You could fall asleep if he kept doing this— but you don’t. You push yourself up, craning your neck to see him perched behind you on his knees. His eyes flicker up from the movements of his hands on your lower back to meet your gaze.

“Eddie, I’m serious. I want to try it,” you convince, eyeing him. His naked chest glistens in a faint sheen of sweat under the warm light of the bedroom, courtesy of the ample foreplay that brought you both here. His disheveled hair is further proof of how the night has gone. He raises his brows, showing off the sincerity in his widened eyes, hands paused on your skin. 

“If it’s just for me, I’m fine with how we usually have sex— I love your pussy,” he smiles crookedly.

Worked up, bare, his cock already hard, and so close to your soaked entrance— it would be easy to give in and let him fuck you stupid, but you prepared for this, you thought endlessly about this, you want this. 

“I’ve never done anal before though, wanna try it at least once.”

His hands resume their movements, this time gliding down and over the roundness of your ass. His thumb brushes over where you want him.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Yes, Eddie. Please.”

“It’s gonna take a while if you don’t want it to hurt. We coulda been warming you up if you told me earlier.”

Your back arches deeper as you deflate, pressing your face forward into the pillow. You knew Eddie had more experience than you, you knew he’s done this before with other people, but you didn’t know how to bring it up. It was only in the heat of the moment when you managed to let the words slip from the tip of your tongue despite planning to say them at the beginning of the evening. At least this time you got the message out, last time you got ready for this, you chickened out on telling him what you wanted and went without.

Eddie brushes his thumb over your hole again before traveling down to your cunt, dipping into your wetness. Shallowly, he circles his thumb in your entrance.

“Shoula told me earlier, pretty girl,” Eddie says and your stomach drops with disappointment. You know you should have, you told him too late and now you have to wait again. 

His thumb pulls out from your cunt, trailing upwards. 

“Shoulda told me earlier, cause now I’m all worked up and need you— but you’re shy, aren’t you?” His voice drops to a low rasp that makes your disappointment vanish, heated excitement taking its place. “My shy girl, too nervous to tell me she wants me to fuck her in the ass.”

The warmth of your slick on his thumb circles around your puckered hole lightly, teasingly. 

“Are you my shy girl?” he asks.

You nod your head, the sound of ruffling cotton on your pillowcase acting as your response. You know Eddie doesn’t appreciate your lack of a real answer when his thumb stops it’s movement.

“Yes, I’m your shy girl,” you say quickly, wanting him to keep going.

“Good girl. My good, shy girl,” he hums. His thumb resumes circles before gliding right over your hole, adding increasing pressure that has your stomach squeezing. You hum happily, enjoying it so far but it doesn’t last for long when he removes both hands from you.

“Touch yourself, baby. Want to see your fingers in your pussy while I get your ass ready for my cock,” he says and your stomach flips.

“Touch myself?” you ask.

“Too shy to touch yourself f’me?” he asks, amusement laced in his voice. You hum, turning your head briefly into the pillow to hide, before taking a breath. 

“No,” you reply, the bashfulness of your voice telling both of you otherwise. You bravely snake a hand under your body, holding your hand flat over your mound. 

“That’s a good girl, let’s see you sink your little fingers into that pretty cunt.”

Hot and wet, your fingers glide in easily, an audible squelch of wetness sounding out that makes your skin heat from your neck all the way up to your cheeks. Eddie groans from behind you and it gives you the confidence to pull your fingers out, starting a slow pump. 

“Thatta girl, keep doing that,” he praises and you hear the mattress shuffle behind you. 

You turn your face to see Eddie but when you catch his gaze, he pointedly looks towards your cunt, reminding you with a raised brow to keep going. He shuffles off the bed, moving to the bedside table. Seconds later, with a clear bottle in hand, he crawls back into the bed, moving to sit behind you again. 

With the pop of a lid opening, your fingers pause as your mind’s focus shifts to what Eddie’s doing.

“Keep going baby,” he's quick to prompt. “Just gonna warm up some of this lube in my hands and we’ll get you started, okay?”

“Okay,” you reply meekly, making slow wiggles of your fingers inside of yourself, movements far too shallow and tame to get yourself off. 

“Gotta relax baby, focus on playing with yourself,” he guides as you hear the slickness of the lube being rubbed between his hands. He finally makes contact between your cheeks, rubbing the warmed up liquid over you. 

You try to continue plunging your fingers in and out of yourself but your attention wanes as the pads of his fingers rub circles over your hole. 

You resist the nervousness that threatens to creep in. It’s not that you don’t trust Eddie. You trust him more than yourself, it’s just new and you’re not sure what to make of it yet.

“Can you tell me what you’re doing?” you ask shyly. 

A gentle palm meets your lower back again, warmth spreading over your skin as he rubs soothingly. An appreciated affection that calms your nervousness. 

“’Course, baby,” he answers. “Just getting you ready and lubed up. The slicker you are, and the more relaxed you are, the easier it’ll be.”

You hum an agreement, trying your hardest to focus on fingering yourself. You start building a steady rhythm when Eddie’s hand pauses.

“Gonna start small, okay? Just gonna use my little finger at first— see how you like it.”

“Mhm, okay,” you agree. With his one hand still rubbing a soothing massage on your lower back, you feel the prod at your hole, slow and gentle.  

“Just, relax,” he hums quietly, “mhm, just like that, baby.” His little finger pushes into the tightness, and your own fingers pause completely as you take a moment to decipher the feeling. 

His hand slides from your lower back, down to rest on your hip. His finger pushes in the slightest bit further. When you feel the knuckle of his finger your whole body moves forward, away from the intrusion instinctively. 

“Hurts?” he asks, letting you pull away, leaving just the tip of his finger inside you. 

You shake your head. It’s not pain, it’s not something you’ve really felt before. “Just feels weird,” you answer, relaxing back towards him. 

“Wanna stop?”

“No,” you reply with another shake of your head. “Keep going, please,” you say when he makes no further moves. 

He pushes his little finger into you again, knuckle pushing past the band of tightness but this time you don’t pull away, you breath through the odd feeling. 

“How’s that?” he asks, stilling his finger inside you. 

“Feels… fine? Not bad, just… tight.”

“Yeah, s’really tight,” he breathes. You feel his finger wiggle the slightest bit and it makes your stomach clench from the strange sensation. 

“Wanna play with your clit for me? It’ll make it feel better.”

“What are you gonna do now?” you ask, wanting him to talk you through it some more. 

“Get you used to this, just go slow, in and out for now,” 

Gliding your fingers out from your cunt, wetness gathered between your fingers, you move to make circles on your clit, letting out a breath at the distracting pleasure.

Eddie starts slow movements of his finger, pulling it out before pushing it back in. With your fingers working your clit and the added pressure, you hum a quiet moan. 

“Feel good, baby? Like having my finger in your ass?”

“Like it, feels good so far,” you answer, picking up the speed on your clit. 

You get so lost in the buzzing throughout your body that Eddie’s words go in one ear and out the other as he guides you through the next step. You almost don’t notice him switching from his little finger to his middle, only when he gets to the knuckle again do you notice the extra stretch. Surprised, despite him telling you what he was doing, a gasp pulls from your lungs and your circles on your clit stutter. 

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, just surprised me.” 

“Tell me if it starts to hurt, okay?”

You agree and Eddie starts a slow thrust in and out. The feeling is… interesting. It’s like pressure and quite different from when he’s in your pussy. 

When his knuckle slips in and out with ease, you feel yourself get excited.

“Ready for more,” you chirp quietly. 

“Yeah? Ready for two of my fingers?”

“Mhm, ready for ‘em, Eddie.” Your belly pools with heat just at the idea of two of his fingers inside of you. Your pace on your clit picks up again, having slowed down so you didn’t cum just yet.

He does it methodically, pulling his finger out until just the very tip is left inside of you. Then he adds his second, pushing inside of you so slowly that you nearly feel like pushing back into him— until he gets to the hilt of his knuckles again. 

Biting your lip, the stretch is close to being painful and you can’t help the way you tense. Eddie stills.

“My ambitious girl, thought she could take more already. S’hurting isn’t it?”

“No,” you lie unconvincingly. 

“No?”

“Just feels like a stretch,” you say, voice coming out squeaky. 

“Yeah? Wanna keep going?” 

You pause before nodding your head. “Wanna keep going,” you answer, continuing slow circles on your clit. 

His fingers prod deeper, knuckles stretching you out and adding pressure. When he finally has both fingers fully inside you, you let out a breath you had held in that clearly you nor Eddie realized you had held in.

“Baby, you gotta keep breathing. If it’s too much, tell me,” he admonishes gently, rubbing his opposite hand along your hip.

“It’s not too much… it’s just different. I want it so bad, Eddie.”

“I’m so fucking hard, you’re not making this easy for me,” he laughs softly.

“I do. I've been thinking about it for a long time. Really want it just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Sweet, shy girl, you can tell me anything. You know I’d never say no to you,” he says as he starts moving his fingers again. You make a conscious effort to breathe, taking deep inhales and extended exhales. 

When he eventually gets you used to his two fingers, the way he twists his wrist with each plunge has you humming in the intimate pleasure. More than anything, the thrill of it all is what has you enjoying this the most. It feels good so far but you need more.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah, pretty girl?”

“Can you…” you trail off, shyness creeping in.

“Can I?” he prompts, slowing his fingers.

“Can you… can you do that but…” you trail off again.

“Anything you want baby, just gotta ask,” he says softly, hand rubbing along your hip still, encouraging you to say what you want to say.

“I want you to do that and fuck me too,” you say in a quick breath.

“Yeah?”

“Please.”

Eddie laughs softly, his gentle massaging hand turns into a quick squeeze. “I can do that, want me to stuff both your hole, fill you right up?” he asks salaciously.

You pussy clenches at the thought and you need it more than anything.

“Please, Eddie.”

He sinks his fingers deep into your ass, making you moan, lighting every nerve up in your body. He shuffles behind you, free hand guiding your thighs wider to accommodate himself.

“Gonna make you feel so full, you want that don’t you? You been thinking about it?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum. “Been thinking about it for so long, Eddie.”

“Gotta tell me these things, baby. Want to know every dirty thought of yours,” he grumbles in a deep baritone. His fingers twist with the movements of his wrist and you feel the prod of his cock as he drags it through your folds, catching your clit before lining himself up. 

“Please,” you whisper, pushing back into him. He lets out a low chuckle and he spares you your additional pleas that sit on your tongue as he pushes inside of you. 

The stretch of the head of his cock makes you whine and with the addition of his fingers in your ass it’s a fuller pleasure, one that gets more intense as he pushes deeper inside of you. 

“Eddie,” you whimper out, dropping your head to the pillow. 

“I know baby, s’a lot isn’t it?”

“Feels good Eddie,” you whine, arching your back deeper.

“Yeah? You like being filled up?”

“Love it, Eddie.” 

He draws his hips back and your stomach flips just at the thought of the pleasure to come. When he pushes back in, his fingers wiggle inside of you and your breath catches. He does it again and you swear your head goes fuzzy. 

He starts slow, his hips thrusting slow and lazily, barely grazing the backs of your thighs with each stroke. His fingers are what makes your breath stutter. He twists them in and out with the swirl of his wrist, and each time he sinks his cock inside of you, it adds unique pressure that has you reeling. Most of all, you like that it’s him doing it— you feel a profound intimacy having him like this that makes your chest squeeze alongside the burn in your lungs from having every breath stolen. 

“Want to add another finger,” he says and you let out a drawn out whimper. He coos, rubbing his free hand along the round expanse of your cheek and up to your waist. “I know you can take it, you’re doing so good f’me.”

“I can take it,” you nod into your pillow. 

He pulls back from you, enough to have just the tip of his cock inside, and you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from pushing back into him. That feeling vanishes when you hear the click of the bottle lid.

“Just gonna add more lube, okay? Make sure you’re nice and slick for me,” he says in a soothing cadence.

“Thank you, Eddie,” you say. He huffs a quiet laugh and you hear the wet sound of the lube in his hand. 

“Don’t gotta thank me, pretty girl. I’m having fun back here,” he chuckles and your heart skips a beat at the thought of him enjoying this. It’s a warm feeling— the shared pleasure, it’s hard to explain but just feels good being together like this. 

Pulling his fingers almost all the way out, you feel his other fingers glide around your entrance. When he shifts, you take a deep breath. 

“Good girl,” he praises. 

His free hand finds your lower back again and the stretch of a third finger starts. It’s a lot this time. A lot more than all the other stretches. 

“Just breathe, there you go. Doing so good,” he soothes in a low voice. Feeling a heightened sensitivity, you don’t miss the way his cock twitches and throbs inside of you. While the stretch tinges painful, you focus your attention towards that, feeling the way his excitement kicks up in his cock. 

The stretch doesn’t give way to pleasure, but the pleasure comes from somewhere else. Somewhere deep inside where you feel connected to Eddie. You’re his like this, physically but emotionally as well. All his. It makes you throb, and you reach between your legs chasing that feeling. 

“Fuck, there you go,” Eddie says, voice turning gravelly. His cock kicks up again and he lets himself push forward, sinking halfways inside of you. 

His fingers, just barely past the knuckle, shift inside of your tight hole and it has you lighting up in a searing pleasure— pain speckled but so rewarding when Eddie lets out a deep grunted moan. 

“Don’t think I’ll last, baby,” he says in a strangled breath. 

“Just fuck me, please. Need it so bad Eddie. Need you.”

He huffs a deep exhale. His hand on your lower back pushes you down into a deep arch and you meld to the way he needs you. His fingers shift again and it’s like fire in your veins. You rub quick circles against your clit and with a deep breath that tickles across your spine as Eddie lets it out, he thrusts. 

Guttural and from deep inside of you, you let out a pleasure ridden moaned cry. 

He pulls back and rolls his hips to yours. 

You’ve never felt so full in your life and you love it. It’s thrilling, it’s connecting, it’s masochistically beautiful, and it pools in your lower belly, making your stomach clench in rigid convulses. 

“Fuck, feels so fucking good,” Eddie groans. His breath is heavy and only adds to your pleasure. “You like both your holes being filled don’t you, can feel you squeezing me so tight,” he says in a deep grunted babble.

Your moans surpass their usual shy quietness, and the way your pitch raises is barely within your control. If you didn’t feel so conscious-shatteringly good, you might be embarrassed about how your voice echos off the walls. Normally Eddie’s the vocal one, and even with his drawn out groans, grunts, moans, and dirty talk that choruses alongside your own, you’re undeniably loud and it has Eddie’s thrusts stuttering already. 

He presses his fingers downwards inside of you and it’s like something shatters. You’re almost at your climax, but that small movement has his cock pressing perfectly against your g spot, and the stretch, the subtle pain, and the blatant pleasure of your fingers on your clit have your muscles seizing. He thrusts as deep as he can, moving quickly in and out to push you over the edge, and you erupt into shakes that tremor through your body. 

Your legs threaten to give out and your head turns foggy with buzzing luxury. His thrusts continue and even with your eyes squeezing shut, your vision gets darker until you see the sparkle of your pleasure peaking through like stars. 

Eddie spews moans and grunts after whimpers and curses, and pulling his fingers from your ass, he quickly grabs hold of your hips in a pinching grip. Staying planted in your cunt, he chases you downwards on the bed when your legs finally give out. He follows you, prolonging your high, and finding his own as he fucks you into the mattress. 

“Fucking Christ— fuck, fuck,” he grunts, hips slapping heavily to your ass in quick thrusts. The bruising grip he has on you, and the urgency of his broken curses tell you he’s on the edge. He sinks his cock deeply inside of you, convulsing balls pressing against your cunt, and you feel the subtle warmth of his orgasm fill you up. Working himself through his high in shallow thrusts with stuttered grunts, the room is silent as you’re reduced to levelling breaths. You feel as light as air with the pleasure of electricity strumming through every inch of you. 

He’s pressed to your back, both of you completely collapsed to the mattress but you need to feel more of him. You shift, reaching backwards, and like he reads your mind he’s already searching for you with an open hand. 

He pulls out, rolling to the side and you follow, moving yourself to lay against his chest. His hand in yours, it’s sticky and wet and full of lube but you hold it tight, squeezing it within your own. He squeezes back. 

You hum with more satisfaction and good feelings inside your chest than you can communicate. Eddie brings his other hand to your back, rubbing it up and down, replying with his own hum. 

“That was really good,” you mumble, leaning your cheek to his sweat damp chest.

“So fucking good,” he nearly growls, the tone of his voice proving the assertion of his truth. 

You laugh softly, pressing a kiss to his chest. His heart hammers below your ear and the rise and fall of his chest soothes you, relaxes you. 

“My shy girl,” Eddie hums and from the lightness of his tone you know he’s smiling. Feeling brave from your post sex high, you smile to yourself.

“I can’t wait to feel your cock in my ass,” you say. Eddie lets out a deep laugh that vibrates in his chest. 

“Not so shy now, huh?” 

Cheeks burning with your smile, you shake your head.

“Want to do you too,” you say. You lose a bit of your nerve but the dramaticized gasp you get from Eddie, you know that he knows what you mean. 

“You want to do me too?” he laughs. 

“Mhm, want to fuck your ass,” you whisper, just barely mustering the courage to say it. You’re rewarded for saying it with smooth, soothing strokes up and down your back, and a chuckle from deep inside Eddie’s chest. 

“Who woulda thought my shy girl’d be so dirty,” he says, pulling you even tighter to him, hugging you extra close. 

──────────── ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

[depresseddepot]

.

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: FUSHIGURO

A/N: OH. MY. GOD. Anon. I love you and hate you for this request. This was…hard. I told myself I wouldn’t publish it unless it was fucking perfect (you should see the scalpels I took to each goddamn sentence before this version).

SECOND: I will square up with Gege for writing the most enigmatic, LAYERED, complex, muddled character to exist. I wanted this to be Megumi. Through and through. His darkness, his light, his reservation, his crazy, all in one. And IDK. I think I did it? This one is purely to prove to myself that I can write for characters that are hard to write for (*cough* yuta im glaring at you *cough*)

THIRD: if you do read this (I get people feel things about aged up characters etc), I implore you to listen to this. Guys. I heard this at 0200 IN THE OR during a 6 hour case and the entire concept for this came to me. Meg is sophisticated and unruly, selfless and selfish, etc. So this has some NSFW but definitely probably more on the poetic, long ends of my works.

CW: Aged up characters (20+), college AU, fluffy/raunchy/dark romance-y because LOOK at him. He takes after Gojo AND Toji. Mature, 18+

“You like it when I’m rough.”

Megumi’s melody rings crystal clear.

Low.

Precise.

An F-14 Tomcat fighter jet, flying dark. Below enemy radar.

The piano keys float beneath his tone. His long, slender, deft fingers effortlessly execute the sheet music before him. It’s his GPS system, a personal flight map.

Little Beethoven, his advanced music theory professor calls him.

Truth is, Megumi is a prolific pianist and vocalist. He can tame any note, any melody, any harmony faster than any of his Shikigami.

Speaking of…

Megumi pulls off the piano and tortured love song in an instant. Just as the grade 3 curse creeps through the open door.

The part between his right long and ring fingers is automatic. His left hand grips the web space between his right thumb and index finger.

“Demon dog.” Megumi summons.

Low. Precise. Decisive.

“Eat it, boy.”

A small, approving smile tugs on the corners of his lips. Low level curses are the nothing more than chew toys to his divine dogs. With a tiny wave of his fingers, his technique buzzes inward.

Megumi’s eyes float to the ancient analog clock on the wall.

13:50

10 more minutes until you’ll meet him for your date.

No. Not date.

Study. 10 more minutes until you’re meeting him to study.

Your thought blooms within him like wildfire. It sets his normally cool, porcelain skin ablaze.

Megumi whips his body around to face the piano. To exorcise the feeling. The keyboard has always been his outlet. His life blood. Playing, singing, musing in and out of written songs is his catharsis.

Words don’t come easy. They never have. But lyrics do.

And when he gets to ride lyrics with his voice, his runs..?

The words he can never find on his own are suddenly out there. In the atmosphere. Coating empty rooms in a mist of his thoughts, his feelings.

No certain promise that the person the words are destined for will ever catch them. Or ever walk through the room and be kissed by the remnants of his musical trail. But Megumi has said (sung, played) them. And that’s enough.

“Sorry if I come across a type of way.”

“I’ve been trying to get out of my way…”

His fingers dive into the keys. Angrily. Earnestly.

“I know it doesn’t seem like I care, but you know I care—“

“Wow Meg, you sound incredible.”

You bring him to an abrupt stop. Your voice is maple syrup trailing down Megumi’s neck, leaving goosebumps in its candied wake.

Pitch fucking perfect.

A soft, ethereal C, gliding down Heaven’s staircase. You infuse sunlight into his name, whichever way you choose to say it.

And it’s hell. It’s cruel. To have as keen hearing as he does. To listen to you sing his name and have nothing else follow.

“Fushiguro.” Megumi shoots up from his seat, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

“What?”

“Fushiguro.” He repeats, eyes briefly meeting yours before settling above your head. He’s at least a head and shoulders taller.

“Nobody calls me Meg.”

You throw your head back. Feather light crescendo in your laughter. It’s pretty. Tantalizing in the way chandeliers twinkle when they capture a beam of light.

His eyes dart down to catch the feminine column of your neck. Curving into your delicate collar bones. How are your lines so seamless?

So cinematic. Like he’s watching a figure skater land a triple axel. Or a prima ballerina en pointe. It’s not fathomable.

Gorgeous.

You are gorgeous.

“I call you Meg.” You retort with a smile that liquifies all of his joints.

You double your walking speed to keep pace with Megumi’s long strides. Both of you exit the sound engineering building. Heading straight for the campus library a couple blocks away.

“Who were you—oh,” Megumi’s glacial hand along the small of your back steals your voice away.

Your eyes and feet follow his gentle push, shifting you to the other side of him.

“Walking on the wrong side.” He mutters, monotone. Matter-of-fact. Obviously.

He’s a gentleman. Of course he is going to walk on the traffic facing edge of the sidewalk.

Of course he didn’t feel the electric currents wire through his fingers to clench — suffocate — his heart.

No, he didn’t hear that punched out, falsetto gasp when his hand cradled your perfectly tapered waist.

Or notice how well you fit into his hand. How light you are under his touch that had none of his real strength behind it.

You’re made of alluring lines. Intoxicating sounds.

What would it take to coax a pretty melody out of your pouty lips?

His fingers?

They’re long. And smart. Cold. Remarkably patient. You’d like them.

He could make you love them.

Crave them. Need, whimper, whine, and cry out for them.

“So who was it?” You tether him to reality.

“Who was what?” Megumi counters, leading you to a private study room.

“The way you were singing earlier.”

Hairs along the back of his neck stand at attention. Blood runs Siberian cold. Megumi’s gaze on you is subzero.

“It had to be for someone.” You lower down into a seat in slow motion.

The sweetheart neckline of your sundress is mean. Your supple mounds tilt and ripple with every micro movement. Megumi has forgotten why he’s glaring at you.

“You sound too…pretty. It can’t be wasted on thin air.” You continue.

“She must be—“

“Let’s just get started, okay?” He sharply redirects the conversation.

And promptly shifts gear to low autopilot. He’ll speak when spoken to, answer questions intermittently. But his mind’s true coordinates are a galaxy away.

Megumi retreats to his shadow garden.

Watching you.

Drinking you in.

Savoring each detail on his tastebuds like dessert.

The pencil eraser leaves an indent on your bottom lip where you’ve been pressing too hard.

Megumi wants to roll your bottom lip under his teeth. Until it flushes rose and swells beneath his relentless pull.

His eyes fall to your bracelet, far too big for your dainty wrist.

He could hold both of your wrists in one hand above your head or behind your back for hours. Without breaking a sweat.

His other hand would take its time.

To stroke you. Pet you. Learn your sheet music. Then play your body like a harp until you’re a chorus of beautiful, soprano whimpers and moans. Begging and pleading so prettily, enticing him to give in.

But he won’t.

Not until you’re soft enough. A babbling, warm, ruined brook beneath his fingers.

Then he’ll take you, gorgeous.

Searing pain from his sharp swallow and nails digging into his thighs rip him down to the present.

Vision a little fuzzy. Head a revolving door of vulgar scenarios. A dull, demanding ache between his legs draws his eyes to his lap.

Fucking hell.

His jeans are uncomfortable. He’s stiff and needy. Not nearly enough strength in his pants to hold back his drunken arousal.

Not to the mention, the—

swarm of shadows growing at his feet?

Is his…innate domain materializing around him right now?

Megumi aggressively slices through the air at his hip level. Below the table, but you don’t miss his sudden stirring.

“Meg? You okay over—“

“Going to the bathroom.” He gruffs through a clenched jaw. Megumi places his forearm over his crotch before hurrying out of the room.

He can barely recognize the man in the mirror. Flushed to his ears. Volcanoes threatening eruption in his eyes. Api Biru. Pure, triple distilled, blue lava coursing through his veins.

Snap out of it, Fushiguro.

The splash of cold water does nothing for his internal heat. But his milky complexion returns to its effervescent state.

But then he turns a little too quickly to leave. And his painfully hard length drags along his fabric. It’s blinding.

A feeble moan tumbles out of his tight lips.

“Fuck.”

Megumi slams his eyes shut. He needs to readjust. But if he touches himself now, he might not be able to stop.

A slow, steadying breath fills his lungs.

“Just adjust, don’t…” His voice trails off. Icey fingers around his hot, angry base is enough to rip the carpet from beneath his feet.

“Oh, fuck.” Megumi mumbles through one quick pump up his shaft.

He shakes his head as if to tell himself enough. He rests his erection along his thigh before zipping up. Still painful, but tolerable.

A tornado obliterates any remaining resolve in Megumi’s mind on his walk back to you.

You are a dream.

Or a nightmare? A curse?

It doesn’t matter. He couldn’t care less.

Megumi would follow you. Deeper than the crypts of his 10 shadows. Into hell if it meant he could have you the way he wants you.

The way he craves you.

Because fuck the cost.

He’d pay anything.

You’re working on an elaborate concept diagram on the white board. On the tip of your toes. Lip curled under your teeth. And you are just irresistible.

So, he won’t resist.

“Meg! Took you a bit, you okay?”

Megumi is silent. Unblinking. Sauntering toward you.

“Megumi?”

You lower to the soles of your shoes. Neck craning to look at his face. Your eyes widen at his persistent silence. Rosy heat dusting your cheeks.

Pretty little doe, rooted in place by his wolfish glare.

Megumi takes the marker out of your hand and tosses it behind him in one swift motion.

“Hmm,” a tiny acknowledgment of his name. Just because it sounds so sweet rolling off your tongue.

Megumi corners you against the wall. Both of his hands casually in his pockets.

He watches you shift. Flicker your eyes in every direction. Fiddle with your thumbs.

His quiet.

His presence.

It flusters you. Well before he’s gotten the chance to run his hands along the lazy curve of your waist and hips.

“So…so blue.” You stammer. Your warm eyes metronome between his.

“They are.”

Megumi steps impossibly closer. His eyes drop to your chest. Dainty, nervous heaves. Up and down. Up and down.

“You are so,” you swallow thickly, dropping your gaze. “hard to read.”

Megumi snakes his large, graceful fingers into your nape. The temperature difference between your warmth and his cold startles you deeper into his grasp. Your head evanesces into his pull.

A beautiful, shocked gasp escapes you. Just as Megumi’s lips trace the shell of your ear.

“I want you.”

His breaths collide with yours, now. Heat welling deep in his groin. His cock thunders against his thigh.

“Can you read that?” Megumi rasps. Ensuring his voice vibrates down your spine.

A new sound tumbles from your lips. Like you choked on your last swallow. How pretty. You gurgling and gagging like that.

“W-want me? Megumi wh—“

“I.” Megumi nudges his thigh between your legs. His steel pipe erection digs into your dewy, hot core. He angles his leg slightly upward, inching you on the tip of your toes.

His prima ballerina, en pointe.

“Want you.” His lips ghost against yours. Free hand cups the flesh beneath your thigh. Pads of his fingers twitching to dig in.

The two of you drink in this lock-in-key fit. Megumi revels in you. Like this. At his complete mercy.

The prodigal son, born with more power than he knows what to do with.

Ten shadows. Ten Shikigami. It’s been centuries since the last head of his bloodline had power buzzing beneath his fingertips like him.

And somehow he’s never felt more powerful than this.

With you, heaven’s most precious angel, cradled in his arms. Drowning in sinful ecstasy. He brands this freeze frame into the most permanent part of his memory.

Then, he free falls off your cliff edge.

Megumi takes your lips with unfettered greed. Hunger woven into the way his tongue traces every corner of your delectable, soft mouth. His fingers push your head deeper into him. Sucking and nibbling on your warm muscle.

You shower him with airy, choppy little pants. Moans and whines so light they crescendo to fairy dust. You can’t keep up with his bruising kiss. His other hand palms your thigh, kneading little bruises into your silky smooth skin.

Marking what’s his.

“Oh my god.”

You breathe into his mouth when he lets you up for air. Megumi’s eyes dart down to the meeting point of your sex and his muscular thigh.

Did you really think he wouldn’t notice how you’re rutting your pretty little cunt against his leg like that?

Crimson high on your cheeks. You look away when he tries to catch your fucked out gaze.

“Don’t hide from me, gorgeous.” His hand traces up to your hips. You preen into his firm grip.

“Megumi.”

“Don’t stop, pretty girl.” He forcefully moves your hips in more dramatic, languid, deep rolls against his thigh. He’s not paying any mind to the pool of his precum soaking through his pants.

You bury your head in his neck. Fingernails digging pretty crescent moons into his back. You take over the pace. Undulating against him. Shameless. In complete heat.

“You feel s-so…so good.” Your lips smear against his dampened neck. Megumi responds by circling your puffy, slick bud with his fingers.

And fuck. The slurred, broken whimper that rings in his ears.

The way you hump him even more sloppily.

He could finish from that alone.

Your hand flies to your mouth. Empty huffs spilling. Whines ascending in pitch. You are close.

“Such pretty sounds, baby.”

“Megumi…meg..I-“

“Let it out.” He grips the back of your neck. Feeling dangerously close to his own nirvana. Drunk off your precious melody.

“Sing for me.”

“F-fuck, GOD.”

You bite down on his neck. Waves of pleasure crashing into you like hurricane winds. He grips your waist steady. Feeling every involuntary twitch and jerk of your doll-like frame.

Blessing or curse?

He doesn’t know.

But he will follow you to the end of his lifetime and the next.

“God, Fushiguro. That was…” The lusty haze from your peak settles around you. The once shattered world, slowly pieces itself back together.

“No.” Megumi pulls you out of his neck. Dropping his lips to yours, so he can breathe the air directly from your lungs.

“Meg. You call me Meg.”

[7s3ven]

Hi! I love all of your harry potter writing!! I was wondering if maybe you could do something thats one of the slytherin guys (theo preferably) with a hufflepuff girl reader and just a tonnn of angst? like a happy ending but just a good amount of angst lol (maybe hes mean to her or smtg - or like he is just to keep up an appearance in front of his slytherin friends??) idk lol

ANGST IS MY FORTE.

BACK TO THE START. theodore nott

IN WHICH… theodore nott is dating the perfect girl, yet prefers to keep her hidden from his friends.

“Some boys take a beautiful girl and hide her away from the rest of the world.”

Warnings/notes : angst (duh, it’s me), matteo riddle and his dumb jokes, illusion to mature content, panic attack, astoria x draco mentioned, pansy x blaise mentioned

—

A/N : thank you so much for the request and the kind comment!

Being a Slytherin was hard. Being part of the popular cliche was even worse. It wasn’t hard for Theodore Nott to blend in with his crowd. He was rich, a little bit crazy when he drank, and as all of them were, an asshole to an extent.

Theo had his life all planned out; get sorted into Slytherin, check. Join the popular group, check. Date another rich Slytherin girl who he’d only use for reputation, not checked. That last point was an important part of his life plan but, as if the universe intentionally wanted to screw him over, his gaze was constantly stuck on a Hufflepuff.

Y/N L/N wasn’t all too bad. She was pretty (or gorgeous as Theo liked to mentally describe her), rich enough, and had a big reputation in school and outside. She should have been Theo’s ideal type if she wasn’t draped in that damn yellow uniform.

Nevertheless, Theo was smitten by her. He talked to her in secret, wanting to avoid his friends’ shifty eyes and gossip. They’d no doubt tell his parents that he was talking to a Hufflepuff of all people. But, at least she wasn’t in Gryffindor.

He kept her hidden from the world, which he knew she hated but what else could he do?

“Theo.” Y/N called out in the empty hallway. She had her books clutched closely to her chest, scared they’d drop. Theo passed, his heart slightly sinking.

How was he supposed to tell Y/N, his secret girlfriend, that he still wanted to remain a secret despite promising her otherwise? Theo didn’t have the time to even think about it before he heard loud chatter that could only be his friends.

“Theo!” Pansy exclaimed, jogging towards him. She didn’t even notice Y/N, pushing past the H/C-haired girl without a word. “You have to try Enzo’s batch of cookies! He’s actually getting good at baking after last month’s incident.”

Theo lightly chuckled before he remembered Y/N was still here. She was looking at him like she expected him to do something. He quickly brushed past Pansy. He could feel his friends staring daggers into his back, all curious as to what he was doing.

“I told you I don’t want to go out with you. Leave me alone, Hufflepuff.” Theo wasn’t half-bad at acting after all the times he had to pretend to brush Y/N off for the sake of his friends. He subtly leaned forward, “I can’t be weak around my friends, Y/N. You understand, right? I’ll tell them soon.”

It was ironic how Theo made the first move yet never revealed his relationship with Y/N.

“Yeah… sure.” Y/N whispered.

Theo quickly walked away, catching up with his friends. “What was that?” Astoria questioned as she hooked arms with Theo to quicken his pace.

“Just another lovesick girl.” Theo uttered, loud enough for Y/N to hear. He didn’t even spare her a glance as he walked away, breaking yet another empty promise.

“Isn’t that the same girl from two weeks ago?” Pansy asked.

“They all look the same to me.” His words, fake or not, always left Y/N wondering what was wrong with their relationship. She was a good girlfriend so why was Theo always acting so embarrassed of her? Was he ashamed of her?

Theo told her every time that he’d make their relationship public but he never did, too scared of what his parents and companions would think.

What a coward.

Y/N arrived in the Great Hall and immediately slumped into her usual seat beside her friends. “Hi.” She casually greeted them.

“Boyfriend troubles again?” One of her friends, Cerci, asked.

They all knew Y/N was dating someone from Slytherin, but she never told them his name. They didn’t doubt her, there were plenty of other Slytherin guys who would have asked Y/N out if it wasn’t for Theo.

“He keeps saying he’ll tell his friends but he never does. And it drags on for months. I can’t stand it anymore.” Y/N stabbed her breakfast with her fork and sighed.

“Just break up.” Alice, another girl, piped up. Cerci elbowed her.

“You can’t just say that, Alice. You know this topic is sensitive to Y/N.”

“I’m just saying. If he treats her so wrong, why not just break up?”

The pair begun to bicker, as always. There was never a dull moment with Cerci and Alice around. Y/N’s eyes shifted to Theo, who was trying to shake Astoria off his arm. He succeeded, but spilled pumpkin juice on his blazer.

Matteo immediately burst into laughter that could be heard even at the Hufflepuff table. Alice and Cerci seemed to notice the commotion.

“Nott and Greengrass are at it again.” Alice sighed. “You know, there’s a rumor going around that they’re dating.”

Cerci scoffed. “No way. Greengrass likes Malfoy, everybody knows that. And besides, I saw Nott with some H/C-haired girl and they seemed pretty close.”

Y/N quickly lifted her head, lips parted. “What?” She asked. “You saw Theo with someone?”

Cerci scrunched up her eyebrows. “Since when did you start calling him Theo?”

“We were paired up for potions last year. Old habit, sorry.” Y/N quickly lied through her teeth.

Theo was a master at hiding things, even his girlfriend, but not good enough to avoid Cerci’s watchful eye.

“Nott’s handsome, I guess, but have you seen Riddle? Too bad he’s a player.” Alice mumbled before taking a sip from her goblet.

Cerci snickered. “And an idiot. He asked me if the color orange came before the fruit. Everyone knows it’s the color.”

“No. It’s the fruit.” Alice immediately backfired. “Thats like asking if the chicken came before the egg. Which, by the way, was the chicken because of evolution.”

“Where did the chicken come from then? It needs to come from an egg.”

Y/N could only slump in her seat once more as her friends argued about trivial matters that she didn’t care about.

“Woah. What did I miss on my bathroom break?” Esme, the last member of their closely knit friend group, returned. She readjusted her blouse as she sat next to Y/N, stealing a grape from Cerci’s plate.

“Y/N’s having relationship problems with her little boyfriend. Any advice?” Cerci uttered through mouthfuls of food.

“And how does that relate to your argument about chickens and oranges?” Esme raised an eyebrow.

“What came first? The chicken or the egg?” Alice asked, leaning forward to know Esme’s opinion on the matter.

Esme sighed, quickly rolling her eyes. “Oh, not this again. It doesn’t matter. Shouldn’t we be focusing on Y/N right now?”

Alice and Cerci exchanged a glance before looking back at Y/N.

Esme sighed. “You two are useless sometimes. Y/N, if you don’t want to be secret anymore, confront him about it. It’s not fair to you if he keeps you hidden.”

Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line before sparing another look at Theo. “Yeah, I’ll try.” She murmured, resting her cheek in the palm of her hand.

—

Y/N spent all day thinking about what to do. Either she could confront Theo, which seemed like the obvious choice, or let him walk all over her. As much as she wanted to choose the first option, she was still an empath and wanted to see what was burdening Theo so much.

It was in potions, one of Y/N’s unexpectedly best classes, when Matteo Riddle surprisingly approached her. “L/N, right?” The handsome boy asked, leaning forward onto her desk. Y/N’s eyes darted to Theo, whose jaw was tightly clenched.

“Uh… yes.” Y/N muttered, lightly clearing her throat.

“I hear you’re good at potions. You wouldn’t mind tutoring me, right? I’ll make sure to give you a special treat after.” Matteo winked with a stupid boyish grin on his face that Y/N would’ve found charming if Theo didn’t exist.

“Back it up, Matteo.” Theo interrupted, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder and forcing Matteo to take a step back. Y/N’s heart jumped and she subconsciously sat up straighter in her chair. She tried to smile at Theo, anything to catch his wavering attention, but it was fruitless. The next words that rolled off Theo’s tongue stunned Y/N. “You know better than to be associating with low-life, Hufflepuff trash.”

Y/N’s smile immediately dropped. She could feel Theo’s apologetic gaze on her but his words cut deep. Theo left Y/N to sit with Pansy, who had been watching the whole thing with furrowed eyebrows.

“He’s joking.” Matteo tried to cover for his friend. Out of all the Slytherin boys, Y/N had expected for Matteo to be the meanest. But here he was, trying to lighten the mood with a Hufflepuff of all people.

“Right.” Y/N whispered, blinking away tears. If Theo were anybody else, maybe a random classmate she barely acknowledged, then his words wouldn’t have hit so deep. But he was her boyfriend.

Theodore Nott was the same boy who secretly showed up to every quidditch practice when Y/N had been on the team. He was the same sweet boy who aimlessly followed Y/N around the school when she was nothing but his crush, asking to hold her books. Since when had Y/N been the one chasing after him?

Y/N subtly packed her things away with the intention of skipping class to rewatch The Notebook or any other film that would lift her spirit.

Barely anybody noticed her slipping out of the classroom. She almost bumped into Professor Snape, who had been walking in at the same time. After seeing her glassy eyes and shaking hands, Snape let her past with a nod of acknowledgment.

“I expect you to catch up, Miss L/N. Complete page two hundred and twenty three.” Snape uttered.

“Yes, professor.” She weakly replied back.

She was walking to the bathrooms, head lowered and trying to hold back tears, when someone grasped her shoulder and spun her around. Y/N let out a loud gasp of surprise before a hand covered her mouth and she was dragged into an empty classroom.

“Whatever you think I did, I didn’t do!” Y/N exclaimed as she screwed her eyes shut and held her hands up. “I swear I didn’t steal your pet snake! When will you let it go?!” After hearing nothing but silence, she opened one eye. “Oh… it’s you, Theo.”

She was slightly glad it was only him and not the strange boy from two months ago who was sure Y/N stole his pet snake. He went to extreme lengths to try and prove it.

“First I’ve heard of that pet snake. We’ll go back to that later because I’m curious.” Theo placed his hands on Y/N’s shoulders. “Y/N, you know I love you.” Of course she knew that. It was hard to miss when Theo would mutter the same three words between every hidden, breathless kiss. “My parents and even friends expect a lot from me and I can’t go around just telling people I’m dating a Hufflepuff.”

Theo said Y/N’s house like it was a derogatory term.

“Are you breaking up with me?” She asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

“What? No.” Theo was at a loss for words. Y/N truly was his whole world but letting both Y/N and his Pureblood life collide was a recipe for disaster.

“Really? Because this sounds like a breakup speech.” Y/N retorted. A few tears slid down her cheeks and Theo was quick to wipe them away.

“I’m not breaking up with you. I just need you to understand what I’m doing.”

Y/N didn’t know if she could ever understand his reasons. They were all so bizarre and could be easily solved through telling the truth. A sudden wave of confidence drew over Y/N.

“I don’t understand, Theo. You always reassure me that you’ll tell your friends about us but you never do. And sometimes you’re mean to me just to save your reputation. You showed interest first, you talked to me first. You initiated everything first, so why are you trying to pretend like you didn’t? Matteo Riddle out of all people had the heart to comfort me while you walked away. You’re supposed to be nice to me, Theo, that’s your job as my boyfriend.”

Theo never once interrupted her, knowing he was in the wrong. “I’m sorry.” Was all he could muster.

“I don’t want an apology. I want you to tell your friends.”

Theo sighed. “You know I can’t… you know I need to keep up my appearance.”

“Is losing me not reason enough?”

“Don’t make me choose, Y/N.” Theo shook his head. “Please. You know how important my reputation is.”

Y/N slowly grasped Theo’s hands, intertwining their fingers for a moment before dropping them. “If you can’t choose, I’ll decide for you. I don’t want to be a secret anymore, Theo, and it’s clear that you won’t give up your reputation. So keep your reputation and I’ll see myself out.”

“No, Y/N, please.” Theodore Nott was above begging but he’d get down on his knees and plead for Y/N to stay. “I can’t do this without you. I need you. Please. Y/N.”

He watched as she picked up her bag, sparing Theo one more look over her shoulder. “Sorry, Theo. It’s for the best.” She brushed past the door, gently closing it behind her. Theo slumped into a seat behind him, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands gripping his face.

What had he done?

He felt stupid now for not mustering up the courage to tell his friends about Y/N. His leg bounced up and down as he regretted every mean word he spoke to Y/N in an attempt to cover up their relationship. She didn’t deserve that. She was the kindest girl he knew, always giving others a helping hand.

He gripped his shirt, nails digging into the skin beneath the thin fabric. Theo could feel his heart beating at an abnormal rate but it wouldn’t stop no matter how many desperate deep breaths he inhaled.

The room suddenly felt too small and Theo felt claustrophobic, a feeling he had never experienced before. The world was flashing before his eyes with every ragged breath he took.

“Y/N, please don’t go.” He whispered despite knowing she was already long gone by now. He wrapped his arms around himself, shaking. “Don’t go.” He repeated as an attempt to comfort himself. He harshly tugged at his hair, cursing at himself for being so stupid as to letting Y/N go.

He should have tried harder. He should have done everything she asked. He only had his reputation to worry about, but at what cost?

With his head hanging low, he made his way back towards his dorm, trusting his friends would bring his supplies back. He collapsed onto his bed, feeling numb. He was a little bit angry that Y/N broke it off so casually without much tears. Was he not worth it? He suddenly realized how Y/N felt, having to watch your lover walk away like nothing happened.

—

The days following the breakup were gloomy, and that was an understatement. Theo realized early that Y/N was much better at masking her feelings behind a fake facade of happiness than him. He spent every free hour wallowing in self-pity, hoping to catch another glimpse of Y/N like the good old days where he didn’t care about his relationship.

“Theo.” Pansy waved a hand in front of Theo’s face. He scowled, not wanting to go through another rant of how Blaise refused to make the first move. She sat beside him on the green couch, handing him a bottle of alcohol. It was the end of the term, and as always the Slytherin house decided to host a large party. Anybody was invited, unless your name was Harry Potter.

Draco had gone as far in their petty rivalry to hang up a sign at the entrance, stating “no Potters”allowed. He spelled Potter wrong at first, spelling it as pottery, which resulted in the Weasley twins bringing in jars of clay pottery. Theo quietly laughed at that.

“How’s your girl?” Pansy asked as she took a sip from her can of lemonade vodka.

“We broke up. She had enough of me- wait.” Theo quickly turned his head to stare at Pansy, “How do you know about Y/N?”

Pansy simply shrugged with a grin stretching across her lips. “Your words are convincing, Theo, but I’ve known you for a while. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you sneaking off and coming back with lipstick marks?”

Theo’s head hung low. “It doesn’t matter now. She’s done with me and vice versa.” He swirled his drink around before taking a gulp.

“You’re stupid, you know.” Pansy spoke up, “If you liked her so much, you shouldn’t have let her go.”

“I had no choice.”

“You had a choice. The door for you was wide open. You just never stepped inside, too scared of others’ opinions.”

“I’m a Pureblood. I can’t be dating a Hufflepuff girl.”

“You’re a boy, Theo. Three years from now, nobody will care that you dated a Hufflepuff.”

“I’ll care!” Theo exclaimed over the loud blaring music. Pansy didn’t flinch, only staring at him with a mix of pity and annoyance. “My parents expect me to marry a Slytherin girl.”

“You sacrificed your girlfriend for something your parents told you ten years ago?” Pansy was judging him now with a hardened stare. “Be careful how you treat girls, Theo. One day, you’ll realize the possibility of losing her is very much real.”

Pansy subtly pointed behind Theo. He glanced over his shoulder, his wandering gaze immediately spotting Y/N. Her friend, Alice, had an arm hooked around her while a boy was trying to hold a conversation.

“Do what you want, Theo. But if you don’t act fast, you’ll lose her for good.” Pansy stood up to retrieve another drink.

Theo, with his heart beating too fast to be healthy, jumped to his feet and pushed past the crowd. He didn’t know what he was going to do or what he was even going to say but he was determined to shove the other boy away.

Blaise was standing with Matteo on the other side of the room, holding a microphone. A dumb idea struck Theo, which he knew he was going to regret the moment he stepped onto that stage.

Y/N’s eyes lit up as she saw Theo walking through the crowd, scowling at anybody in his way. He caught her gaze and for a second she thought he was going to willingly talk to her in front of his peers. But he walked straight past, his shoulder lightly brushing hers.

Y/N deflated, all hope of having a second chance with Theo disappearing. Until she heard the microphone screech and the music abruptly stopped.

She didn’t have to turn to know who was interrupting the party. She heard his voice and immediately knew

“I’m going to fucking regret this. Matteo, shut your mouth or I’ll throw you out the window.” Theo said, glaring at his friend. He sighed before continuing. “I had a girlfriend.”

Some of the crowd lightly gasped, not expecting Hogwarts resident playboy to start his announcement off with that.

“She was sweet, and kind, and all I could ask for. But I cared more about what my family and friends thought so I lost her. I always promised her that I’d tell my friends about us but I never did so I’m doing it now. I don’t expect her to forgive me.” Theo glanced at Y/N who was already staring at him with her head tilted to the side slightly. “But I owe it to her.”

“Hurry up, man!” Someone shouted, “This is boring!”

“I’ll throw you into the black lake so it’s not boring!” Theo aggressively yelled back. “All I’m trying to say is that I had a girlfriend who wasn’t a Slytherin like most people expected. I was head over heels for a Hufflepuff.”

Theo didn’t hesitate to expose his secret. After years of stating he’d date a Slytherin to anybody who would listen, he ended up with a Hufflepuff instead of one of his lovesick Slytherin fangirls.

"Theo, man, I wanna get back to drinking. Are you done?!" Matteo yelled, cupping his hands over his mouth.

"Matteo, I'm done when I'm done! Y/N L/N is the girl I'm head over heels for, okay?! I forced her to keep our relationship hidden, and I will always regret that. She is smart, beautiful, and kind and if I had a chance to do it all over again, I would announce to the whole world that we were dating! After we broke up, I didn’t want anything else but to talk to her again. So I drew her over and over again and my mind was focused on only her.”

Matteo snickered from the side of the stage. “Dude.” He said, almost judging Theo for being so vulnerable.

“Shut up, you banged a Gryffindor girl then cried when she said it was nothing but a hookup. Don’t pretend like I didn’t see you sobbing and eating ice cream in the kitchen.” Theo wittily retorted.

That silenced Matteo.

“I don’t understand why as a Slytherin, I have to date another Slytherin. I can be happy with a Hufflepuff too, whoever I date doesn’t alter my way of living. Now I'm done, go get drunk, Matteo!" Theo shoved the microphone into Matteo's hands, glaring at him.

Theo found Y/N with Alice, who was intensely questioning the H/C-haired girl. “When were you going to tell me the Theodore Nott was your boyfriend?!” Alice yelled as she shook Y/N by the shoulders. "Were you ever going to tell us?!"

"Ex-boyfriend." Y/N quickly corrected her friend.

"Secret admirer, actually. Like old times." Theo butted in, standing behind Y/N with his hands shoved into his pockets. “I’m not demanding you to forgive me, Y/N.”

He kneeled down, gripping onto Y/N’s hands like his life depended on it. He had seen enough romance movies with Y/N to get the hint of what kind of guy she wanted.

“From now on, no more secrets. I don’t care if you never take me back, all I need is for you to look in my direction again. Let’s start over, Y/N.”

—

The school was buzzing with gossip after last night’s party, the word of Y/N and Theo’s relationship spreading fast.

“Is it true?” Hermione asked, leaning forward. “Were you really dating Theodore Nott?” Y/N silently smiled, sick of all the questions she was receiving. At least it was her last class for the day, she could return to her dorm after and sleep.

Y/N was the first out of the door when class ended. She turned down an empty hallway, a shortcut she would always take with Theo when she was too lazy to hike through the large castle.

“Hey, Y/N, right?” Someone questioned.

Y/N looked over her shoulder, half-expecting another guy to shoot his shot after hearing the news about her and Theo. Instead, it was actually Theo.

“I’m Theodore Nott, nice to meet you again.”

Y/N stared at his outstretched hand before slowly shaking it. “Nice to see you too, Theo. Where are you heading?”

“To the kitchen to bake some cookies with a certain beautiful girl. Would you care to tag along?”

When Theo said he wanted to start over, Y/N didn’t know he’d take it to the very beginning.

“What kind of cookies?” She asked as they walked through the hallway, hands linked.

“Your favourite along with a cup of coffee while you study herbology. Just like old times.”

[aemondsbabe]

Claimant

summary: you've been betrothed to jace and aemond simply can't have that

pairing: aemond targaryen x sister!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, reader is described as looking like alicent (coppery hair, wide eyes) but no other descriptors are used, dark!aemond, targcest, incest, knife play (aemond has a thing for knives idk), knife fucking? she fucks the handle idk, no blood/injury, slight coercion, slight degradation, a very viserys (GoT) coded aemond, slight dubcon but the reader is here for it, fingering, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 2.3k

a/n: i genuinely don't know what to say about this. i got inspiration from this last night and became a woman possessed!

check out part 2 & part 3!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

creds to @tomblythsgf for the gif!

Your skin prickles, the hair at the nape of your neck standing on end as you feel his gaze on you yet again, making your heart hammer in your chest as you nod along to whatever Lord Tyland is saying, your lips stretched into a polite grin while he drones on and on about something or other. The sweet, heady taste of Dornish wine fills your mouth as you sip from your cup and your eyes flick up as you chance a quick glance to the other end of the great hall. 

A small gasp leaves your lips as your eyes meet his, one lilac and one veiled sapphire, both filled with barely contained rage as he sulks in a darkened corner by the doors. 

“Are you feeling well, princess?” Tyland questions and it’s only then you realize how hard you’re breathing, chest heaving as you pant.  

“Of course,” you manage a tight-lipped, courteous smile, “The excitement of the day must be getting to me, if you’ll excuse me.” Quickly, you make your way back to the main table in the center of the room, smiling gratefully as you lay your eyes on your husband-to-be.

“Prince Jacaerys,” you smile, setting your cup down on the long wooden table, “Would you do me the honor of joining me for another dance?”

His dark eyes light up as you approach and he quickly nods, “How am I meant to say no to my future bride?” He chuckles, standing and offering you a hand, which you gladly accept. 

You try your best to focus on the music, the crowd, the loud hum of the conversations that fill the hall – anything but your older brother’s gaze that still bores into you. You can practically feel his rage multiply tenfold as the brunettes wraps an arm around your waist, your throat dry as you grasp his shoulder, fingers digging into the fine silk tunic he wears. 

“Are you enjoying the feast, princess?” Jace asks as the two of you move gracefully across the floor, the steps of the dance thankfully long-since committed to memory. 

“How could I not?” You smile as he twirls you, your long auburn locks swaying against the satin of the cloak that flows down your back before they settle across your shoulders once more, “This is a most joyous day for both of our families.”

“Of course,” the prince nods thoughtfully, though you can’t help but notice his tawny eyes are clouded with a certain sadness, “What I mean to say is, are you happy to be marrying me?” 

Your lips part to answer, though you don’t manage to get a word out before a strong hand clasps your shoulder, your steps halting immediately. You don’t need to turn your head to see who it is, although the sour look on Jace’s face clears any lingering doubt you may have had in an instant. 

“Nephew,” Aemond speaks lowly over your shoulder, standing so close to you that your back is nearly pressed against his chest, “Could I borrow my sister for a dance?”

The prince steps back with an annoyed sigh, shooting you an apologetic look before nodding at your brother, “Of course, uncle,” his voice is monotone as he speaks, though his eyes brighten once more as they land on you yet again, “Until later, princess.” He whispers, dipping his head down to press a soft kiss against the back of your hand; Aemond all but growls behind you.

Your older brother sweeps in as soon as Jace’s back is turned, tightly wrapping an arm around your waist as the two of you continue the dance from where you’d left off. “You know I hate seeing you with him,” Aemond rasps, threading the fingers of one of his hands together with yours, “You belong to me, sweet sister, no one else.”

Your heart twists in your chest and you know deep within yourself that his words are true, not that it matters. “There is nothing I can do, brother,” you whisper, your eyes flitting over to where your mother and grandsire sit, “I had no choice in the matter, you know this.”

Aemond hums lowly in his throat as the two of you sway to the soft orchestral music, his hand untangling itself from yours to grasp your chin, tilting your head up to face him. His lilac eye all but burns with fire as he gazes down at you, “You should be mine, you are mine,” he seethes, words hissed through clenched teeth, “Our fool of a mother should’ve known better than to shackle you to some bast–”

“Do not speak ill of mother,” you admonish, shaking your head free of his grasp, “You know she had as little say in the matter as I did.” 

He huffs a quiet laugh out through his nose, teeth gleaming dangerously as he smiles ruefully, the hand at the small of your back tightening still. “You don’t actually want the Strong bastard,” he whispers, careful to hardly breathe the treacherous words in the crowded hall, “Do you, little one?”

Little one. You shiver at the name, one he had called you since childhood, blushing as he smiles knowingly. “Of course not–!”

“Do I need to remind you who you belong to?” He whispers hoarsely, eye flitting to your lips before he can stop himself, “Of where your true loyalty shall always lie?”

Before you can answer, he’s leading you from the hall and you willingly follow, his dutiful shadow as always, grasping tightly to his arm as he leads you through the familiar winding corridors of the keep until you come to his chambers at last. 

You gasp as he all but pushes you through the entryway before slamming the heavy wooden door closed behind you. Your wide eyes follow him as he circles you like a shark circles its prey, smirking as he looks you up and down, his intense gaze igniting a fire within your belly. 

“Tell me, sweet sister,” Aemond rasps as he comes to a stop before you, one hand grasping your jaw as his lips skirt over your neck, “Does the Strong bastard still believe you to be a maiden?” 

You whimper softly, the feel of his soft lips against your skin sending you into a tailspin as they have so many times before, “Yes, brother.” You answer simply through a gasp, shivering as his teeth graze against you. 

Aemond chuckles lowly in his throat as his hands make quick work of your gown, his deft fingers undoing various buttons and ties until the fine silks sink to a pool at your feet, leaving you bare before him. 

He takes a second to appreciate you, his eye roaming over the soft curves of you he hasn’t seen in so long — ever since your mother had gotten wind of the maids quietly bringing moon tea to your chambers. 

Without a word, he leaves you and saunters over to his bed. You watch him curiously as you stand on the soft rug spread over the floor in front of the fireplace, a cold shiver running down your spine as he pulls his dagger from his belt and traces the long, silver blade of it as he turns back to you. 

“I cannot be so bold tonight as to claim you with my cock, little one,” he whispers, grinning at the blush blooming over your cheeks, “But I will have a piece of you even still.” 

“Aemond,” you start, voice shaking even as you feel slick beginning to coat the insides of your thighs as puzzle pieces snap together in your mind; you haven’t played this game with him in a very long time, “Pl—“

Your words are cut off with a shriek when the sound of fabric ripping echoes throughout his chamber as Aemond pierces his plush mattress with the dagger, leaving the dark leather hilt protruding from the fabric. 

“Come,” he beckons you over with an outstretched hand, “Prove your devotion to me, my Strong girl.” 

Your lower lip wobbles slightly at the double meaning of his words, the fire within you burning bright as you move to him without a second thought, determined to show your brother where your loyalty still lies. 

Aemond laughs softly as he helps you onto the bed, always stunned at how easily you give into him. He holds you steady, his warm hands on your bare hips as you kneel over the knife’s hilt. “You have always been mine,” he murmurs, one hand trailing up your body until it’s cupping one of your breasts, “After tonight I’ll make sure it remains that way.” 

Before you have time to question him, he presses you lower and a whimper leaves your lips as your center brushes against the handle of his blade, the smooth leather gliding seamlessly against your slick folds as you move your hips over it. 

“Oh, Aemond,” you squeak out, eyes fluttering shut as your pearl moves against the hilt, a whine leaving you as you move your hips, trying to position it at your entrance despite yourself, “Please, brother.” You whimper, growing desperate to be filled, even with this part of him. 

Aemond shushes you softly and abandones your breast to grasp at your hip again, pressing soft kisses to your neck as takes heed of your pleas and helps you lower yourself down. His cock stirs within the leather of his trousers, already straining against the fabric as he watches your sweet cunt swallow the hilt of his precious dagger. 

“That’s it,” he coaxes, guiding your hips with one hand as the other snakes up to your throat, smirking as he feels your moan vibrate against his palm, “There’s my strong girl.” 

Your eyes flutter shut as you lower yourself down fully, sheathing the dagger within you. The smooth leather of the hilt presses against your walls deliciously, the various curves and bumps pressing into each sweet spot within you with dizzying precision. 

You cannot help the whimper that tumbles from your lips at Aemond’s words, your walls clench at the leather shaft as you begin to move, impaling yourself on the stem again and again as your brother’s lilac she watches you with awe, his own chest heaving as he notices the way your slick shines against the leather, glowing in the soft candlelight of his chambers. 

“Our sweet nephew will never have you,” he says, shaking his head as his eye once again meets yours, “I’m the only one who should see you this way, writhing and wanting.” 

You nod your head as you lean against him, fingers bunched in the fabric of the black tunic he wears. “Only you, brother,” you whisper, capturing his lips in a frantic kiss as your movements grow quicker, “I don’t want anyone else.” 

Aemond gasps against your lips as you grasp his length through his trousers, rubbing over the bulge before desperately pulling at the laces of his breeches. He helps you, taking pity on your shaking hands, and groans lowly into your mouth when your hand wraps around his length, quickly stroking him from root to tip. 

One of the decorative curves of the handle brushes perfectly over the sensitive spot within you each time you buck against the dagger and you melt against his chest as you swirl your hips, grinding yourself on it. 

Aemond is all but animalistic as he groans and growls and licks into your mouth desperately before pulling away from you with a sigh, only to press hot kisses to the column of your throat; one hand once again cups your breast, his thumb teasing over your pert nipple, as the other leaves your neck to tap over your aching pearl. 

“Gods!” You gasp loudly, stroking over his thick, pulsing cock with one hand, keeping time with your hips as you sink over and over onto the handle of his dagger, your other hand weaves into hair at the nape of his neck, eager for something to anchor yourself with. 

“I would sooner gouge my eye out than let him take you,” Aemond groans, his own hips rutting into your touch as the head of his cock leaks steadily between your bodies, “You are mine, I will not stop until it is so.” 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you pant, the fire in your belly threatening to consume you as your brother’s fingers firmly circle your bud, “Aemond, I—“ 

“Let me have it,” he grunts, determined not to finish until he sees you breaking apart in his arms, “Give yourself to me, little one, let me have it.” He coaxes, doubling his efforts on your sensitive pearl. 

All at once, your high washes over you and go limp against him, a high keening sound escaping from your lips as your walls pulse over the hilt of his blade, pleasure zapping you like lightning as you coat the leather with your release, your slick dripping onto the mattress below you. 

You’re so lost in the fog of your own pleasure that you hardly hear Aemond grunt against your throat, muting his own sounds of pleasure as he bites into your soft skin. His cock twitches between you, his thick seed coating both of you as it drips down your hand. 

The two of you remain still for a moment, your brother holding you protectively against him as he smoothes a hand up and down your back. His kisses you softly as he helps you pull yourself off of his dagger before he lays you on his bed, his fingers combing through your coppery hair as it splays around your head like a halo on his pillow. 

“Stay,” he commands softly, rising from you and plucking his knife from his mattress, groaning appreciatively at the way your juices still shine on the handle, still warm against his palm from where it had been so deeply pressed within you, “I will be back shortly.” 

“Where are you going?” You question, watching as he sheaths the dagger once more into the small scabbard hanging from his belt before he tucks his softening cock back into his trousers, agile fingers quickly re-tying the laces. 

“To make you mine.”

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0, @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @demirunner @eponaartemisa, @trshgyn

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[faithshouseofchaos]

hi i don't think this is a real request but for franco colapinto it's kinda cliche ikr (but i believe in your writing skills so)

older reader (u don't need to specific the age) who refuse to be with franco bc she thinks it's better for him to be with someone close his age, but ofc they're in love and franco is down bad for her even though she's kinda cruel sometimes

so angst with a happy end? or at least something realistic? idk and it's up to u to add other stuff! *oh and they're from the same country or foreigners etc*

“She calls me kidz bop” — Franco colapinto x fem!reader

Word count 3.5k

Warnings — Angst, heavy makeouts allusion of smut

This isn’t as good as I thought it would be

Tagged— @crispysoup318 @meeel-things @bieberismysoulmate @dejavuontrack @barcelonaloverf1life @nominsgirl @bluebluesol @chenlesbitxh @ironmaiden1313 @chunkpiboli @kr7-i-know-what-im-doing

Franco watched as y/n stood talking to her fellow driver Something deep inside him wished that she gave him the same attention as she did the rest of them. It didn’t matter if they had feelings for each other. It also didn’t matter that she was so cruel to him and gave him nicknames like Kidz Bop, Teeny Bopper, or Rug Rat.

He didn’t mind the teasing or the nicknames, he could take it. He’s used to being teased by others but not by the one he’s falling for, and he didn’t want to admit it but a part of him knew he was slowly concluding that he loved her. Franco leaned against the garage wall, staring at the ground with his hands shoved in his pockets.

He continued to observe y/n’s body language. The way she stood with her arms crossed, the way she laughed at the other driver’s jokes, even the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It was maddening.

Franco clenched his jaw, trying to hold back his frustration. He wanted to speak to her but he was uncertain of what to say. As he watched her, he noticed she was glancing his way. A small smile crept onto his lips as he realized that she was looking his way. He felt a flutter in his chest, a mix of hope and nervousness. He took a deep breath, summoning his courage, and finally stepped forward.

As he approached, he could feel her eyes on him, studying him. He tried to act casually, his hands still in his pockets, but he couldn’t help the way his heart was racing. He cleared his throat, “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?”

Y/n turned her attention away from her co-drivers and looked at Franco, raising an eyebrow. “Sure, what do you want?”

Franco swallowed hard, trying to ignore the coolness in her voice. He took a step closer, not caring that they had an audience, “Can we talk somewhere a little more private?”

Y/n nodded, gesturing for him to follow her out of the garage. Once they were alone in a secluded area, she turned to him with her arms crossed. “What's on your mind, kidz bop?”

Franco took a deep breath, trying to ignore the nickname. He knew it was her way of keeping him at arm’s length, but it stung nonetheless. He looked into her eyes, gathering his courage. “I wanted to talk to you about us…”

Y/n’s expression remained neutral, but he could see a flicker of something in her eyes. She raised an eyebrow, “What about us?”

Franco rubbed the back of his neck, nervous. “Well, I just wanted to know…if there’s ever a chance for us?”

Y/n let out a snort, “A chance? Kidz bop, you’re way too young for me. You need to find someone your age.” Franco's heart sank at her words, but he tried to hide his disappointment. “I don’t care about age. I just want to be with you.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “Yeah, yeah, very romantic. But I’m not interested in dating some kid who still has a curfew. I need someone more mature.” Franco clenched his fists in frustration, “I’m not a kid. I’m just as mature as any other driver out there.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, “Yeah, sure you are. I bet you still have a teddy bear in your bed and your mom still picks out your outfits.” Franco's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he tried to maintain his composure. He couldn’t deny that he had a teddy bear, but he certainly hadn’t asked his mom for fashion advice since he was 12.

“I’m a grown man,” he protested, “Just because I’m a rookie doesn’t mean I’m immature.” Y/n leaned against the wall, still looking unimpressed. “Oh? Prove it then, Teeny Bopper. Show me how mature you are.”

Franco was determined to show her that he wasn’t just some naïve rookie. He took a step closer to her, his heart pounding. “Fine. I’ll prove it to you.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his sudden confidence. “Alright, I’m listening. Go ahead and impress me, rug rat.” Franco took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. He was suddenly keenly aware of how close they were standing to each other. He could smell her perfume, a soft, musky scent that made his head spin.

He looked into her eyes, unflinching. “I’ll prove it by showing you that I’m serious about this. I’m not just some kid who doesn’t know what he wants. I know what I want, and it’s you.” Y/n’s expression softened just a bit. She was impressed by his directness, but still unconvinced. “You’re young, Franco. You don’t know what you want. You just think you do.”

Franco took another step closer to her. “I may be young, but I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I’m done with being treated like a kid. I know what I want, and I’m not going to give up until I get it.” Y/n’s heart skipped a beat at his words, but she tried to maintain her cool facade. “You’re not going to give up, huh? You’re stubborn, aren’t you?”

Franco smirked, feeling a rush of confidence. “I can be when I want something. And I want you.”

He took another step forward, closing the gap between them. He was now standing so close to her that he could feel the heat of her body. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat as he stepped closer. She hadn’t expected him to be so direct. She could feel the heat radiating off of him, and she had to fight the urge to reach out and touch him. But she held her ground, refusing to let him see how her resolve was starting to crumble.

“You don’t even know what you’re getting yourself into, kidz bop,” she teased, but there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice just before she walked away from him. Franco watched her walk away, a mix of frustration and determination coursing through his veins. He knew he had gotten to her this time, he had seen the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

He wasn’t going to give up, not until he had proven to her that he was serious. He was in love with her, and he wasn’t going to let her brush him off like some naive rookie.

Once again Franco found himself watching and observing y/n and this time was brought out of his thoughts by a large hand clapping him on the shoulder “You good there Franco?” Charles asked. Franco looked over at him and then back at y/n whose eyebrows were bunched up together and her lips in a thin tight line.

“Yeah I’m good,” Franco answered, looking down at his feet. Charles chuckled at Franco’s obvious lie. He followed Franco’s gaze to y/n, his smirk growing even more as he looked at her. “You have it bad don’t you?” Charles teased. Franco quickly shoved Charles’s arm off him as he gave him a nasty glare.

Charles cackled in response. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. How long are you gonna sit on your ass and not do something?” Charles said.

“There’s a reason why I haven’t,” Franco said, still stubbornly keeping his eyes on y/n.

“Which is?” Charles prompted.

“She’s too old for me,” Franco said. Charles’s jaw dropped.

“Bullshit! She’s what, 26? You’re 21! It’s not that big of an age difference, "he said.

“She thinks it is,” Franco said. Charles shook his head in disbelief at Franco’s stupidity.

“Goddamnit Franco. You’re a pretty handsome kid, why are you letting her have that much control over you? If you feel something for her then do something about it” Charles said.

Franco tore his eyes from y/n to look at Charles “There is something between us. But every time I try to talk to her about it, she shuts it down. Says that she’s too old for me and would rather I find someone my age” he confessed. Charles let out a scoff “She doesn’t mean it. She’s just running away because she doesn’t want to admit her feelings for you” he said.

Franco shook his head. “You don’t know that and besides she’s mean to me and she calls me kidz bop, teeny bopper, or rug rat.”

Charles rolled his eyes “Franco I’ve known y/n for much longer than you being mean to someone is her love language trust me the meaner she is to someone the more she cares for them. She calls me a pretty boy. She calls Fernando an old man. I've seen the way she looks at you. There’s no way she feels nothing.” Franco’s heart skipped a beat at Charles’s words.

“W-what do you mean ‘the way she looks at me’” he asked.

Charles smirked again “I mean you’re constantly in her line of sight whenever you’re in a room. Anytime she’s near you, she always seems to be hyper-aware of it. I don’t think she’s as immune to your charms as she makes herself seem.”

As much as Franco wanted to believe what Charles was telling him it was too hard. He’s seen the way y/n talks to the other drivers. They weren’t like that.

“I get that your old ass has much more relationship experience than I do. But you just don’t understand” Franco muttered, refusing to look at Charles. Charles shook his head at Franco “You’re a lot denser than I thought you were. If you’re gonna waste your opportunity with her then that’s your problem, not mine” he said before he sauntered off, leaving Franco by himself.

Franco stood there, his mind reeling from Charles's words. He couldn't shake the feeling that Charles was right about y/n. That she had feelings for him beneath all her harsh words and belittling nicknames. But he couldn't be sure.

Franco looked over to where y/n was still standing, her expression still tight and cold. He tried to muster up the courage to approach her again, but he couldn’t find the words. He was too overwhelmed by the possibility that she could feel something for him. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever rejection came his way. Franco began to slowly make his way toward her, his heart pounding in his chest. With each step, he felt as though he was walking through mud, his legs refusing to cooperate.

Finally, he stood in front of her, his eyes locked on hers. “Can I talk to you for a second?” he asked, his voice much softer than he had intended.

She looked up at him, her eyes flickering with an unreadable expression. For a moment, he thought she was going to brush him off like she had so many times before.

“Fine. What do you want?” she asked, her voice as icy as ever. Franco swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure. He had practiced all the things he wanted to say in his head, but now that he was standing in front of her, all of his words seemed to have vanished.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I just wanted to talk to you about us." "I know we're colleagues, but there's something more there, isn't there?" he said, his voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

She paused for a moment, her expression faltering for just a split second before her walls went back up. "Whatever gave you that idea?" she asked, feigning indifference. Franco took a small step forward, closing the space between them. He could feel the heat radiating off of her body, making him heady with desire.

"The way you look at me. The way you always watch me. I know you feel it too. You're just too scared to admit it." Her breath caught in her throat as he neared. She tried to pretend that his words did not affect her, but he could see the subtle change in her breathing, the way her body seemed to gravitate towards him.

"Scared? I'm not scared of anything, least of all you," she retorted, hoping he didn't notice the waver in her voice. "Then prove it," he said, his voice suddenly low and intense. He was so close to her now that he could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the way her pulse fluttered in her neck.

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers lingering against the softness of her skin. Her breath hitched at his touch, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment. She fought the urge to lean into his touch, to finally give in to the overwhelming amount of tension that hung in the air between them. But she forced herself to take a step back, pulling herself out of his reach. "I don't have anything to prove to you," she said, her voice trembling ever so slightly.

Franco couldn’t help the pang of disappointment that shot through him as she pulled away. He knew he was getting under her skin, but she was still fighting him.

But he had a card he hadn't played yet.

“Then why is this so hard?” he asked, his tone soft and gentle. “If we're just colleagues, then it should be easy for you to turn me down. Right?”

Inwardly, she was cursing his stubbornness. But he was right, and she was losing the battle with herself. She had been trying so hard to keep her feelings locked away, to deny the attraction that was growing hotter and hotter each day.

She tried to come up with a witty retort, but her throat was dry, and her mind was fuzzy. The way he was looking at her, the way he was so sure of himself, it was chipping away at her defenses. He took another step closer, closing the gap between them again. “Come on, admit it. This isn’t just some one-sided thing. You feel it too.”

She could feel his breath on her skin, the heat of his body so close to hers. She thought about denying it, pushing him away once more, but the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, she did the one thing she had promised herself she wouldn’t do.

She melted.

It was as if all the tension and resistance she had built up just disappeared. She found herself leaning into him, her body drawn to his like a magnet.

She looked up at him, her eyes betraying the vulnerability and desire that she had tried so hard to hide. "Franco..." she whispered. The sound of his name on her lips sent a jolt of electricity through his body. He could see the change in her eyes, the way they darkened with emotion.

He moved closer to her, his arms closing around her waist, pulling her against him. He leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from her ear. "Say it. Say you want me." The heat of his body against hers combined with the huskiness of his voice sent shivers down her spine. She closed her eyes, her body molding itself to his.

She took a shaky breath, her voice wavering. "I want you, Franco. Damn it, I want you." A rush of satisfaction and relief washed over him as he heard her words. He’d finally broken through her defenses, and now he had her exactly where he wanted her.

He pulled her even closer, his hands slipping under the hem of her shirt, his fingers tracing the bare skin of her back.

“You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that," he murmured against her neck. She let out a soft gasp as he touched her skin, her body arching into him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair.

She had tried to deny it for so long, but now that she had finally given in, it was like an unstoppable force of nature. All she wanted was to be closer to him, to feel him completely. He claimed her mouth in a deep, searing kiss, his body pressing her against the wall. His hands roamed over her skin, exploring every curve and contour of her body. It felt like a dam had broken, and all the pent-up desire that had been building between them was suddenly unleashed.

She returned his kiss with equal fervor, her tongue tangling with his. She ran her hands along his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt.

She wanted more, so much more. She was drowning in the sensation of him, losing herself in the heat and the passion of their embrace. Franco pressed himself against her, trapping her between the wall and his body. He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down her neck, nipping and sucking at her skin.

He could feel her coming undone, her body growing more and more pliant against his. He could tell that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her, and it was driving him insane. She let out a desperate gasp as he found a particularly sensitive spot beneath her ear, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly. She couldn't think straight, her mind fuzzy with desire. The only thing that existed at that moment was the feel of his body against hers, the taste of his skin, and the way his hands sent sparks of pleasure dancing over her skin.

He continued to explore her body, his hands drifting down her sides, his fingertips tracing the edge of her waistband. He dipped his head lower, his lips trailing along her collarbone, then down her chest, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses on her skin. She whimpered and shivered beneath his touch, her body becoming a raw nerve of sensation. Her hips rocked against his, seeking more contact, more friction. She felt like she was on fire, burning up from the inside out.

He could feel her body reacting to his every touch, the way her hips moved against his, the way her hands clutched at his hair, pulling him closer. He could hear the soft gasps and moans escaping her lips, the sound sending a flood of heat straight to his core.

He pulled away just long enough to look at her, his eyes dark and intense.

“God, I love it when you make those sounds,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. The desire in his gaze, the rough rasp of his voice, it was too much for her. She reached up and pulled him back down to her, her lips crashing against his in a fierce kiss.

Her body was overwhelmed by the intensity of her desire for him, the need for him almost unbearable. He met her kiss with urgency, his tongue delving into her mouth, claiming her completely. He pressed himself against her, his body fitting perfectly against hers.

He let his hands slide down to her thighs, lifting her so her legs wrapped around his waist, pinning her against the wall. She wrapped her legs around him, her body flush against his. She could feel every muscle, every contour, every inch of him. She couldn't get enough, she wanted to be even closer.

She tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him tight against her, her tongue exploring his mouth with feverish desperation. He pressed himself harder against her, his body desperate to get even closer to hers. He let his hands slide up to her hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. He wanted to taste every inch of her, to mark her as his. She tilted her head back, exposing her neck to him, her body arching into his touch. A soft moan escaped her lips as he licked and sucked at her skin, his stubble sending sparks of pleasure dancing across her nerve endings. He found a particularly sensitive spot just below her ear, and he lingered there, his lips and tongue working her into a frenzy. He could feel her responding to his touch, her body trembling against his, moans and gasps escaping from her lips.

He nipped and sucked at her skin, leaving a trail of red marks down her neck and collarbone. She was completely undone, her mind consumed with nothing but him and the pleasure he was causing her. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body writhing against his.

Each flick of his tongue and each press of his lips sent shockwaves of ecstasy through her body, stoking the fire that burned within her. He pulled back slightly, taking in the sight of her - flushed and breathless, completely at his mercy. He wanted to claim her completely, to make her his in every way possible.

He lowered her down just a little bit, his body still pressed close to hers, and he looked into her eyes, his gaze intense and hungry. She gazed up at him, her eyes dark and hooded with desire. Her hair was tousled, and her shirt wrinkled where his hands had been. She looked wrecked already and they'd barely even started.

She met his gaze, her own just as hungry and intense. She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her, and nothing was going to stop them now.

[kichiyosh1]

"I made it with you in mind"

wanderer x reader

to think he'd end up finding joy in such a childish activity

✧: he ends up being mean at the beginning but he apologizes in his own special way, slight hurt/comfort but nothing major

(I'm back ig? idk :3)

He couldn't believe the absurdity to which you and the young archon were subjecting him to.

The sins committed by the former harbinger are things he won't refute or deny. Indeed such actions musn't go unpunished, but perhaps he's underestimated the extent of the dendro archon's mercy.

Mind explaining what all of this is supposed to be?" he knows, with just a single glance, he grasped what was about to unfold, he just couldn't believe it. There displayed before his very eyes, a colorful assortment of beads lay scattered across a wooden table.

"You've dabbled in arts and crafts before, haven't you? You could say I proposed the idea to Lord kusanali as a way to keep that evil little brain of yours occupied"

'What evil is there to be done in bracelet crafting of all things, huh?' he deadpanned while simultaneously picking up a bead, examining how it reflects the light that's passing through the crystalline windows.

He let out a scoff.

"Have you forgotten who I am? A being of celestial creation, lessened to do recreational activities such as these? how amusing." Pathetic was the word he was looking for. Seriously, do you really expect him to just sit down quietly and start passing beads on a string without complaint to how this is a hit on his pride? It'd be more fitting if you locked him up for all of eternity, but this, this was just mockery.

It was the warmth of your hand that snapped him out of his thoughts. Eyes widened before squinting, but he dared not move, curious to what it was you were doing. You had started to fasten a piece of string to his wrist, gentle with your touch, measuring it so that it'd fit securely, but not too tight to be uncomfortable.

"Who gave you permission to lay your hands on me?" The warmth of your touch was strangely starting to get to him. He swatted your hand away, any more of that and he wouldn't know how to react.

Both of you were now glaring at each other. "Is it that hard for you to accept someone's act of kindness? I'm just trying to help." You could've sworn there was a slight change in his eyes when you said that, but was quickly replaced by an irritated smirk on his face. "I don't recall ever asking for your help, go give it to someone who actually needs it." He waved you off before plopping himself down on one of the stools before suddenly picking out random beads and charms like he wasn't against the idea a moment ago.

With furrowed brows and your mouth left slightly agape by his rude behavior, your face settled on a frown. You were used to the wanderer's arrogance and unpleasant attitude towards people, but there are times where even you are left puzzled. You went out of your way to make sure the activities kusanali planned out wouldn't overwhelm him, she'd ask you if you were doing this out of pity for him. You firmly shook your head.

You simply cared for him, that's all there was to it, but it didn't seem like he reciprocated the motion. The last he's heard from you was a sigh, before the sound of your footsteps slowly leaving faded.

You haven't visited him since. I mean how could you? if he was going to act like a brat while you spent your time there then might as well steer clear out of his way. No, you weren't being petty, and even if you were, you most certainly had every right to be. You nodded to yourself, justifying your actions as wanderer just being an asshat and you being the more mature one in this situation.

It wasn't easy. There were times where you would cross paths when he was on break from his duties (and bracelet crafting), or times where he himself is actively seeking you out, and before he could even call out your name, you're already making a bee line towards the exit.

You sat yourself down, exhausted from all this running around. Another successful day of not coming into contact with the wanderer.

"Doesn't he have other businesses to attend to?" If he had time to be going around looking for you then surely he was slacking off, right?

"As far as I'm concerned, you are my business." Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"So how long do you plan on avoiding me?" he was standing behind you, face leaning down above your head as you met his gaze from your position on the bench.

You put on an air of annoyance before flicking his forehead, causing him to hiss and reel back from your attack as he rubbed the spot. "Hey! you deprive me of your company for days and now you dare assault my face? you-" you were already walking away, with the esteemed wanderer quickly following closely behind you.

"Hey", he reached for your hand, but you batted it away. It was definitely worth it to see the offended look on his face, but there was a small pang in your heart when you saw how his face faltered. "Who gave you permission to lay your hands on me? don't go acting all buddy buddy with me now." you crossed your arms, throwing back what he had said to you a few days ago.

"ah, you're upset with me about last time." You kept a stern look on your face, expecting for more, but if he failed to deliver then you'd have no trouble turning away from him again.

His mouth kept opening and closing similar to that of a goldfish, but no words came out. He looks conflicted. It took him a whole minute to sort out his thoughts, and with a deep sigh he spoke.

"The way I reacted, it was uncalled for. Like you said, you were only trying to help and I should have, I, it's just the way you held my hand, it made me feel weird." his gaze turned downcast feeling a little embarrassed by getting riled up by something so minor as physical contact.

you don't know that of course, you'd just assume he was really really ticklish in some areas

Would you mind closing your eyes for a moment? I promise It'll only take a second", the soft spoken tone he's taken on is foreign to you, but not unwelcome. You were hesitant but complied. And if he does anything funny you'll make sure to write a full on report about it to kusanali.

You could only feel how he softly held your hand, how he delicately glided his dainty finger in order to tie what you assumed was a,

a bracelet?

You opened your eyes and that's when he leaned in, his soft breath near your ear "It was supposed to be a surprise gift, but an apology gift works too." your face felt warm, and your hand did too (to which he was still holding). Was this the weird feeling he was talking about.

A moment after, you examined the accessory on your wrist.

and my was it beautiful.

The main colors of the bracelet were your favorite colors, accompanied by beautiful white pearl beads and crystal flowers and cute charms. Truly something you wouldn't expect the wanderer himself to make.

You released a small laugh, happiness spreading throughout your system. "Did you really make this?" You were starting to look too happy for his liking, but of course you always looked more beautiful with a smile on your face. He scoffed in order to hide the ever creeping happiness that was also starting to spread across his face.

"Is it that hard to believe? I had you in mind when I made it after all, so if you're going to complain about its design then the person used as reference is at fault." You were just about to complain to him about him complaining that you'd not dare complain about it when he added on.

"again, I'm sorry for disregarding your help. Whether I needed it or not, I wanted to make the bracelet solely on my own so that it'd be more meaningful of a gift to give to you." This time he held your gaze, determined and truthful about what he said.

It seems you had judged him wrong, well not entirely. True he had a unique character, but that's just what made him, him. You held his hand, and the colors from earlier are returning to both of your faces. You held it there before pointing to his wrist, "It's only right I make you one as well, right? that way we'll be matching." You then intertwined your fingers. He was gonna combust.

EXTRA:

"I didn't think wanderer would be that into bracelet making" Kusanali peaked from the corner of the room. He was deeply concentrating on what he was doing and she did not want to disturb. "A little peek into that mind of his wouldn't hurt". After using her skill, a flurry of thoughts from wanderer flood her mind.

'Is this too much? or maybe too little? is [y/n] a minimalist or a maximalist?'

'This reminds me of you, this one too, and this one.'

'This charm is cute, like you. Wait no you're most definitely more cuter'

'this bracelet should be honored to be worn by you'

'maybe i'll make you a necklace next'

'I hope you'll like it'