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kedsandtubesocks · 2 years ago

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I NEED TO INJECT THIS INTO MY VEINS

now we're partners in crime—

gojo x f!reader wc: 4k+ tags: modern au, no smut but it is a mentioned subject throughout, intoxication to the point of slight memory loss (referenced), gojo being gojo, f!reader (referred to as 'wife' and 'bride', etc.) takes place in you guessed it las vegas, so there's some american stuff in here inspired by the katy perry song 'waking up in vegas'

many things are immediately concerning when you wake up.

the first being that you're laid up in a bathtub and not entirely naked, wearing some ridiculously scandalous lingerie you would never buy for yourself while in your right mind — though you think that might be precisely the problem. that you weren't.

you have no recollection of getting into this...outfit, which is little more than too-tight ribbons and misplaced pasties and strips of crotchless, white material. it's so open and exposing that you are horrifyingly embarrassed, hands clumsily rushing to cover the bits of you that are all out even if you are in a hotel bathroom by yourself.

the thought of anyone seeing you in this nonsense nearly has you sinking further down into the tub and turning the faucet on high until the water runs up and over your head, but someone would come to find you eventually, and they would catch just as much of an eyeful as whoever tied you into this crap.

and someone certainly did, because there's no way you could have gotten into this alone, either stone-cold sober or sloshed out of your mind. which you're quite sure you were. had to have been.

there are faint and distorted memories tickling the sensitive skin of your throat, of cherry-stained lips and rushed, slurred whispers. "y'look so sexy," he says, and the little giggle pressed into your neck is innocent, childish compared to the wide hand gripping your ass cheek too hard.

the terribly concerning thing about this isn't that you don't know who that man is, but rather that you do. all too well. and now your head is pounding and your stomach is turning and your hangover is coming in full force at the realization that you may have, in fact, fucked your best friend.

but even that isn't the most concerning thing. no, waking up in a bathtub with few memories of your wild, first night in las vegas has nothing on the glittering, heavy diamond ring on your finger.

you don't know anything about carats but someone — that you hope and pray is not gojo satoru — has bought you a whole crop of them.

it seems as if an eternity passes before you can haul yourself up and over the edge of the tub, though it probably only takes about 10 minutes in total. on all fours, you feel like a little show cow, with fabric everywhere except for where it should be, and you're almost so overcome by your embarrassment that you turn back for the tub.

but there's a faint ringing coming from outside the door. an annoying, too-cheerful noise that you realize is what's woken you up in the first place, because it hasn't stopped for ages. a ring-tone that, again, has your stomach dropping from the familiarity.

maybe it's getou, you try to tell yourself, come to find gojo's phone because the clown ran off without it too late last night and is now panicking. maybe shoko and suguru and satoru are all sober as can be and you've just made a big fool of yourself, all by yourself, and everything is totally fine; you'd happily be labeled a sloppy drunk rather than...whatever it is your brain is trying to piece together right now.

you're not actually any more covered on the ground like this, but it gives you some semblance of comfort as you open the bathroom door and peer out down the hall — which is made of marble flooring and a crumpled-up white, mink rug, gold picture frames lining the pristine white walls. you can see clear across the room, and the floor-to-ceiling windows are all city skyline and a cloudless blue day.

and this is absolutely not the room the four of you booked.

not that it was some backwater, mysteriously-stained-carpet-esque motel room, but it was a bottom-floor rental, and definitely not on the strip, as this king-fucking-suite seems to be. definitely not littered with rose petals and pictures of greek goddesses (?) and a cardboard cut out of elvis presley.

the first piece of real clothing you come across while crawling along the floor is a black blazer that had clearly been tossed into a haphazard clump last night; you hate to imagine why. you yank it on as quickly as your lead-heavy limbs will let you and button it up as far as it will go. a good portion of your chest is exposed, still, but it goes to nearly your knees, because it's fitted for some stupid, tall idiot.

— and said stupid idiot is passed out in the middle of the hotel room, half of one leg kicked up on the couch. there's a sticky, splotchy puddle — of old champagne, you guess, if the empty bottle in his hand is anything to go by — right next to his stupid idiot head, and if he were to only turn his face a little, it'd get all in his hair. you wish it would.

satoru is also entirely shirtless, with the button of his slacks undone and a peek of his black, expensive briefs staring you in the face.

for a moment, you're surprised; all his dumb designer clothes make him seem too slinky, like a limp string-bean, and you didn't expect him to be as...thick as he is. still lean, moreso than even suguru, but there's a soft roundness to his shoulders, which have never looked so wide beneath his fancy shirts.

he has pecs. smooth abs that you want to poke, maybe bite. you're also trying not to care about the snow-white happy trail underneath his belly button.

the first thing you do is whack him in the head.

"gojo!" you hiss, hugging the blazer closer to your body as he whines and, unfortunately, turns further from the mess on the floor. "wake up!"

his glasses are nowhere to be seen, hopefully broken or lost for good, and he only manages to crack a single baby-blue open before covering his face with his hands and groaning out in pain. "did you hit me?" he asks, muffled and delayed, so you do it again to be more clear. "ah!" he cries, "why are you hitting me?"

"b-because! where are my clothes?"

you can see the brush of his light eyelashes against his fingers as his eyes open beneath his hands, and then he's sitting straight up, interested, smile growing at the sight of your bare legs.

gojo has the nerve the laugh, infuriatingly similar to the one haunting your memories. "noooo clue."

"satoru," you grit, and the use of his first name has his face falling into something more serious. "this isn't funny. what—" you hold up your hand and point to the ring on your finger, face burning up when his eyes go wide. "—happened last night?"

but — you know what happened, don't you? because, try as you might to ignore the silky white dress draped across the back of the couch, you're looking into gojo's eyes and you can see them staring back at you underneath the cheap light in some shitty little chapel.

you gasp out loud as your hands go to twist in the roots of your hair, the realization a physical assault on your sanity. "what the fuck have we done?"

a small crease forms between gojo's brows, courtesy of his own hangover headache, and his lips press together evenly as he blinks in the sunshine pouring through the window. he's startlingly less bothered by this than you are and you think it's driving you even more crazy; sitting as if has hasn't just dropped who-knows-how-much on a giant, ugly ring and a suit and this honeymoon-esque-fucking-suite.

the lack of frenzy from him is only driving your anxiety up tenfold.

the annoying little ring-tone splits the air again and that finally prompts him to leave the floor, stumbling around to the kitchen as he knuckles at his eyes. he brightens for a moment and holds up a hand-written note left for you both that says "congrats newlyweds!".

satoru answers the call without a care, voice light and amused. "mr. and mrs. gojo speaking!"

the only very little, teeny-tiny upside to all this is that shoko and getou look just as hungover as you.

ieiri is still laughing, however, into her eggs and then into her mimosa and then fully, into her hands, when you glare at her from across the table. suguru seems unphased for the most part, though you didn't miss how big his eyes got at first sight of the ring on your finger.

there had been no choice but to slip back into the dress you'd worn last night, as it seems the rest of your clothes were in the hotel room where you should've been; gojo at least lets you keep the blazer. most of the buttons on his shirt are gone and you'd both spent too long, too much brain power, trying to figure out how to get it to stay closed before meeting up with getou and shoko in one of the restaurants on the bottom floor of the hotel.

they confirm the worst.

the diagnosis? terminal. 'til death do you part.

"i can't believe you let me do this," you moan, dropping your head to the smooth, cool surface of the table; it doesn't alleviate your headache whatsoever. "why did you let me do this? how could you let me do this to myself?"

"oh, you both were very adamant about it," shoko snorts, downing the rest of her drink in one shot. you don't know how she does it; the very thought of alcohol makes you want to be sick. "wouldn't take no for an answer."

your face falls back into your hands, all doom and gloom. you want to refute such a claim, vehemently disagree that you would want to marry gojo satoru under any circumstances — but there apparently are circumstances that have led you right here. beside gojo, who is drenching a fat stack of pancakes in syrup.

he only grins. "i always knew you found me irresistible."

"look what you've let me do," you cry, digging your hands back in your hair as you send ieiri a pleading look, as if she could go back in time and stop you from ever getting into this mess. "you've let me ruin my life!"

getou sighs, head falling back against the booth you're sitting in. "it can't be that hard to undo. must happen all the time."

gojo chokes at that. "what? you would dare suggest the d-word on our first day as man and wife?"

you smack him again to shut him up, though he only frowns at you, cheeks full of food. "we are undoing this!" you hiss, glaring at your own reflection in the over-sized glasses shoko has let him borrow. "and you're paying for it!"

gojo chooses violence in that moment, by reaching out to catch the attention of the waitress walking by. "excuse me, do you mind getting my bride a cup of coffee? she gets a little grumpy in the morning without her caffeine, you know how it is."

you launch forward in the seat to strangle him, but he's quick to deflect by looping an arm around your shoulders, just before you get your hands on his throat. he yanks you close to his side, hard enough that you feel the phantom pain of his grip on your sore ass, from the night before, and then you catch sight of all the purple hickies just under his collar.

the unshakable reminder has you shrinking back into yourself, unintentionally nestling deeper against his side due to your blazing hot shame. it's mortifying suddenly, to realize it's public knowledge that you've married and screwed your best friend in the same night. maybe even the same hour. and he's seen you in that ridiculous lingerie.

the truth is that you don't know how to take this. you don't know how you feel about this. being married to him, having been bedded by him. you know he's not the reputation he tries so hard to uphold, as some playboy douche-bag; satoru is nothing but a goofball, a bit of a nerd about mathematics while also shouldering a substantial amount of emotional trauma.

you've known him since college, when you and shoko shared that crappy little apartment off-campus and spent too many nights playing beer pong with your only other two idiot friends — who are conveniently sitting in this booth with you.

he's slept in your bed more times than you can count, because he's too stubborn to sleep on the couch, and you were the link between he and getou when they stopped talking for a while. you don't know what the real deal is with megumi and tsumiki, but you've housed them, too; brought their lunch to school and washed their clothes when gojo forgot to pay the water bill, after he decided to stop living off his family's money.

you don't know how you feel being married to him, even if it's only for 24 hours. you don't know how you feel about crossing such an intimate boundary, or how you feel about not remembering any of it.

gojo, on the other hand, seems to feel great about all this, though the look getou gives him across the table doesn't go unnoticed; disappointment, almost. an are-you-serious kind of look.

"i'm never drinking again," you whine, frowning down at the diamond in your lap, sitting bright and sharp on your finger. it's too big for your taste, a bit gaudy, all for show; definitely satoru's style.

"good idea, peach," gojo nods, "let's agree to go sober."

"you didn't even drink that much—"

gojo interrupts suguru by raising a quick hand. "but we all know i'm a lightweight, so it doesn't take much to begin with."

shoko pokes through her phone and you notice the odd way she's angling it, almost like she's just snapped a picture of you and him snug together. you consider kicking her under the table, or throwing her phone in the obnoxious fountain blubbering over by the bathrooms.

she snickers. "i can't wait to tell utahime."

"you will not!" you squeak, suddenly wrenching yourself from gojo's grasp to scooch down to the other end of the booth, as if that could erase the evidence somehow. "we're getting divorced, like, right now!"

gojo — still seems unbothered, which only has your nerves flaring up again. "you know peach," —he pouts when you hiss at him to stop calling you that— "i'd move heaven and earth to make you happy, but unfortunately i can't find my credit card, so you'll have to put a hold on breaking up our family."

"you what?"

"yeah, what?" getou screws his face up, crosses his arms. "who do you think is paying for all your food?"

"suguru," he gasps, scandalized, "you would make the newlyweds pay for—"

"oh my god, get out!" you fuss, reeling your leg back to literally kick gojo's ass out of the seat. "get out, get out now! we're going back to that room and we're not leaving until we find your stupid card!"

"honey," gojo laughs, sweet and light, sending a chill down your spine as he is gladly steered by you. "don't be so forward in front of our friends."

"shut up!"

you re-tear apart the already torn apart hotel room.

there's not much to sort through, which is both good and bad for your pending annulment; helpful, because it means there isn't much in between you and gojo's credit card, but also unfortunate, because you rip the place to shreds and still can't find the stupid thing.

you're met with plenty of other things, though, that only serve to make your body hot and your brain fuzzy.

all the buttons of gojo's shirt, for one, which are scattered in various places across the floor, where they must have flown when one of you ripped it open. there's a ridiculous assortment of chocolates that, at one point, spelled out something —married!; gojo digs into them immediately with an excited little "oh!" as you crawl around on the floor.

whatever it was you woke up in gets shoved in the trash, and you don't even speak about it to satoru.

it eats away at you, though, the flitting images that cycle through your brain, the muddled memories you have of this ridiculous hotel room. the more you look, the more comes back to you, and you eventually can't stop replaying the way he'd thrown your dress up over your head, or the hand you stuck down his pants.

to no surprise at all, gojo isn't really helping. instead lounging on the couch, shoes kicked off, little foil wrappers in his lap. when he notices you staring at him, remembering, he smiles his coy little smile. "c'mon," he starts, "being married to me can't be that bad, can it?"

it's only been a few hours, but it feels like the day has drug on, far too long; you only shake your head, raise a hand and say, "don't."

"i can take care of you," he continues, turning to prop his chin up on the back of the couch as you pace back and forth. "i can—"

"i don't need to be 'taken care of'—"

"—you know what i mean." he has the audacity to roll his eyes at you, but the smile on his face is dimming. "i'll do the cooking and cleaning."

you huff out a laugh. "satoru, you've never cooked anything in your life."

he ignores the diss. "is it because i've got kids? you don't have to be the step-mom—"

"god, stop," you groan, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. they sting, suddenly, and you tell yourself it's only because of the migraine. "what are you—you can't be serious. why are you—i mean, what the hell?"

the hotel room goes entirely silent, and maybe it's because a phone isn't ringing in the background, but it feels like a completely different room. there's pink and red everything, bouquets to go with the petals littering the floor. the ring around your finger fits just right, but you force it to spin around and around, pinching at your skin because you can't keep your hands still.

satoru's face betrays nothing. you have no idea what he's thinking. why he's going so far, if this is all just another joke of his.

"we didn't, by the way," he tells you then, voice low and calm. "you went to throw up in the bathroom and never came back and i passed out on the floor."

you press your thumb into the center of your forehead, trying to tide back the frustration building in your waterline. "what? what do you mean?"

a small smile returns to his face, bringing about a rosiness with it. "our marriage was never consummated, i mean. we never got that far."

oh.

satoru is your best friend, one of them, and you decide, while looking at his tired eyes and soft smile, that maybe marrying him wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. getou gets on your nerves too much, with his grumpiness, and shoko is too flighty. utahime is maybe ideal, though you think nanami would be a good, safe choice.

and gojo, too. couldn't be too bad of a choice, with him.

you heave a sigh and come around to sit beside him on the couch, slumping back into his side — which was undeniably comfortable, down in the restaurant. the affection makes him hum, warm and happy into the crown of your head.

"every marriage has its ups and downs."

you dare to laugh, finally, at the situation. "i don't think i've been a very good wife."

"that's alright, peach," he yanks away, squirming as you try to pinch him. "i'm willing to try therapy to save this thing."

"you're stupid," you tell him childishly, though he only shrugs in response. "we have to figure this out, gojo. we have to — fix this."

"megumi will be out of the house in two years, if that's really the issue—"

you shake your head with another laugh as you get up to stretch your sore limbs, to rub at the tenderness still lingering in your buttcheek. "oh my god, it's not the kids, gojo!"

he laughs, too, though it sounds a little strained, like it's being forced from the back of his throat. "then what is it?"

"we're—" you shake your head again, at a loss from the seriousness dulling his eyes. "i mean, we've never even—we can't be married. we're—just friends, aren't we?"

there's a tension that hardens his face for a moment, solid enough that you get the feeling he's going to pull away somehow, from you and this conversation — but then it's falling away just as quickly, replaced by a look of exasperation. "we can be whatever you want."

another chill shudders down your spine at his honesty, his decision to be vulnerable, here, right now, with you. you've never been under the impression he had any...romantic feelings for you, and maybe that's been on purpose, out of fear of him and what loving him could mean. what losing him could mean.

"i think," you sigh, turning your attention back to the ring—your ring. "i think i'm going to give this back to you and you can hold onto it, if you want, and maybe give it to me in the future. after you cook me dinner and clean all the dishes."

he frowns, but it isn't too severe, playful once again. "so you're really gonna d-word me?"

"yes, satoru," you nod, unable to stop from smiling when he does, too. "i'm really going to d-word you. you're just gonna have to win me back, i guess."

"oh, challenge," he grins in full at that and rises to his feet, towering over you a bit. completely without ceremony, his hands come up to cup your face, thumbs brushing over the heat that swells in them. "it's good for us to shake things up every now and then, it'll keep our marriage fresh."

"yeah, great, i'm so glad you're so knowledgeable about this,"

"i'd be a perfect husband,"

—and he kisses you. so simply, so suddenly, a small peck to your lips as if it's nothing but natural.

"also," he kisses you again, a little firmer as your eyelashes flutter against his. "my credit card has been in the pocket this whole time."

"what?" you murmur, brain struggling to keep up with whatever he's saying between the press of his mouth to yours. the sharp breath he inhales through his nose is audible, felt against the skin of your cheek, and you almost throw the conversation out the window when he steps in closer to you.

but you yank away from him at the last second, as soon as you feel his lips curving into a smile.

"wait, what the hell?" you dig around in the pocket of the blazer only to find his little metal card, sitting there and waiting to be found. this time, he accepts the smack, because he knows he deserves it. "gojo!"

"what do they say? 'what happens in vegas, stays in vegas'?" he cups your face again, but it's only to squish your cheeks together to silence you, to smush your frown. "well, we don't leave for another two days, so i don't think you need to rush into tearing my heart into shreds."

you mean to tell him to shut up, but he doesn't let you, and you decide not to fight him on it this time.

—because you are working on your marriage, after all.

you're in the bathroom, washing your hands up after crawling around on the floor, when you feel another painful throb in your asscheek. only — it's less of a throb, really, and more of a stinging. almost like you have a scrape of some kind.

from out in the room, satoru laughs, cackles, wholly elated.

"hey peach, you're never gonna guess what's tattooed on my butt!"

#i read this twice over the weekend and sobbed both times #Willow you…you wrecked me #body and soul I am just a husk of who I am #HIM CALLING US PEACH??? I NEED TO MEET YOU OUTSIDE SO I CAN FIGHT YOU (affectionate)#and then the way you set up us finding out more and more throughout the piece??? absolute legend #you captured him wonderfully and then seeing us interact with Shoko and GETO!?! I AM!!! I am just obsessed #this is wonderful and magical and feels like taking a bite of my favorite funfetti cake #thank you thank you for sharing this with us darling I appreciate you more than words can say #Willow’s tag 🪴✨#Gojo 🩵#anime fic rec 📝

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meowzfordayz · 1 year ago

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hashira accidentally touch your chest

Author’s Note: pls and ty enjoy this tidbit of crack-fluff. 😆💖

hashira accidentally touch your chest

Hashira x Reader

Word Count: ~1,600

CW: explicit language, Fem!Reader, mild sexual content

Suggestion Fulfilled: Can we get all hashira accidently touch y/n's breast

~faqs~

Fyi, “chest” means boob. I was just worried Tumblr would block this post from tags if I included “boob” in the title lmao. 😉

Shocked 😳😖

“I apologize, [y/n]-san, it won’t happen again!”

Gyomei’s nearly in tears, he feels so terribly 😞

“These things happen!” you promptly assure him, “Besides, you technically won the bout.”

No need to mention that he always wins when training together 🥲

“I cannot accept such a tainted victory.”

“Himejima-san, though I appreciate your concern and respect, there’s truly no issue.”

Meanwhile, Gyomei’s rethinking his entire Breathing Style to ensure he never accidentally touches anyone’s boob(s) again 💀

In cold disbelief 😐😐😐

If you don’t say anything, then he won’t say anything

Alternatively, if you do say something, then Obanai will immediately curl up into a ball and die

Spends the rest of his day recalling the fleeting warmth of your breast

He swears his hand doesn’t even get cold, so affected by the heat of your bosom

Your boob must be ✨magical✨

“Iguro-san,” you call out gently, noting his dazed stare, his dinner untouched while he sits crossed legged, “Is something on your mind?”

“No.” 😐😐😐

Well okay then 🙃

“About what happened earlier…”

🫨🫨🫨 <— Obanai is FREAKING OUT

“… Iguro-san, I didn’t mind.”

And then you stand up, take your dishes, and leave

WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN MEEEAAAN?!?!?!

Good luck finding Obanai tomorrow 🫡 (the poor man’s been pleasantly overwhelmed)

He’ll avoid you for eternity now 😌 (not really, but at least until he can breathe around you again)

She giggles 🤭

Lol

“Oh my! [y/n]-san, I didn’t mean to touch you so intimately!” 😅

“No worries, it happens.”

Your face may or may not be burning up a storm, but that’s okay!

Mitsuri’s blushing too

A lot 😳

“I hope I didn’t hurt you?!”

Because like, What if I gripped too hard?! 😭

She’s well aware of her own strength

“You barely brushed me, Kanroji-san. I promise!”

Phew!

She grins, relief evident as she bumps her elbow against yours

“Don’t tell anyone, okay? I would be so embarrassed!!!”

“Kanroji-san, our secret is safe with me.”

I wish it would happen again… <— lowkey both of you thinking the same thing 🤪

As a medical personnel (among other roles), Shinobu accidentally (or even on purpose, depending on where you’re wounded) touching your boob isn’t entirely unreasonable nor unrealistic

Obviously it would be nicer if she was caressing you out of love and affection 😔

And not methodically cleansing then bandaging claw marks that just so happened to cross over your chest 😒

“You should make a full recovery,” she’s all business, “The demon avoided your nipple and didn’t puncture deep enough to affect the functionality of your breast,” fortunately, you’re too exhausted to be embarrassed by her bluntness, “It has a nice shape. I’m glad you survived.”

EXCUSE ME WHAT?!?!?! 😃🫠

Now you’re kinda embarrassed

More so preening, really 🤭

It’s like when a doctor randomly compliments the rhythm of your heart or some other characteristic from a mainly professional POV, but you’re still caught off guard because who tf compliments someone’s kidneys or bowels movements or?????

In your pain hazed delusion, you briefly contemplate somehow getting your other boob injured too… gotta make sure you’re matching in (nice) shape, y’know? 😌

Kyojuro can be discreet, albeit more so for your sake than his

“I APOLOGIZE! I DID NOT MEAN TO TOUCH YOUR BREAST!” <— how he could react 💀

“Pardon my slip, are you okay?” <— how he actually reacts, because he isn’t entirely lacking in social awareness and decorum 😆

“Oh,” you don’t mean to squeak, but it can’t be helped when the most handsome man you’ve ever known just casually grazed your boob, “I’m fine! Totally fine! Haha!” 🫨😵‍💫🫠

You’ve gotta be more convincing than that, or Kyojuro will never forgive himself 😕

He’s a lil oblivious when it comes to physical attraction

Not like, infantly so, but given this particular circumstance?

He doesn’t realize you’re flustered; he assumes you’re mortified 😖

“You sound decidedly less than fine.”

He’s softer now, worried about startling you 🥺

“I was surprised! But don’t worry! I’m not worried!”

Okaaay, but he’s worried 🥲

“Is there any way I could make amends for my indiscretion?”

Not only is he handsome, but he is such a gentleman 😭😍

“Rengoku-san, there are no amends to be made, I promise. I’m not mad, nor do I feel unhappy or unsafe. I forgive you.”

Your regaining of the ability to speak in complete sentences greatly reassures him 😮‍💨😁

“Ah. Well. I am grateful for your kindness and understanding. It will not happen again.”

…

Hold up 🧐

Why does she seem… she seems… disappointed? Should I have said it will happen again??

You’ve suddenly given Kyojuro something quite pleasant to ponder 🤔

After all, he isn’t entirely oblivious 😉

“Are you going to apologize?” Sanemi demands

“For what?” you screech

“For touching my hand with your boob!”

Your eyes roll, “Oh fuck off!”

“I didn’t ask to touch you,” he grunts

“I wouldn’t have given you permission anyway,” you retort 😒

Arms crossing over his bare chest, Sanemi scoffs, “Well I didn’t give mine either!”

“You’re ridiculous. It was an accident.”

You seem genuinely pissed 😬

Sanemi rethinks his approach

“You know I’m joking, right?” 😅

“Nooo,” your sarcasm cuts deep, “I thought you were flirting.” 😐

Uh 😀

Well 😃

Shit 😄

“Fuck you!”

When in doubt, curse ‘em out 💀

You scowl, confusion lingering as your blood boils, “Fuck you!”

“I said it first.” 🙄

You stalk away, fed up with his antics

#man child #sort of #romantically inept is more like it

As tends to happen with epiphanies, yours doesn’t hit until you’re almost asleep

“WAS THAT MOTHERFUCKER FLIRTING WITH ME???!” 😳🥴😭

Best believe Shinazugawa Sanemi is about to have a Lesson 101 in flirting asap 😤😎

(assuming you’re older, like, mentor age to Muichiro)

Neither of you make a fuss about it

It’s like accidentally calling your teacher mom 😬

Or grabbing a random person’s hand in the supermarket thinking they’re your parent 🫣

Embarrassing, but not a huge deal — unless you make it one

There’re those three seconds of slow motion Uhh and What just happened and Oops 🫠

And then time speeds up to normal again, you have a quick conversation with your eyes (gosh forbid you speak and bring the unspoken into reality 💀), and it’s over

^^ Alternatively, if Muichiro initiates a conversation to clear the air, then you’re able to have a mature and concise chat that is respectfully and patiently resolved

Embarrassing/accidental encounters are part of growing up

As long as they can be navigated ~safely, there shouldn’t be any lasting harm

⚠️I also want to emphasize that I am talking solely on inarguably accidental/one time incidences⚠️

Hehehe

Giyuu’s hand is stuck 🫣

Only for like, a fleeting second

But omg 😭

He was already embarrassed, and now he’s triply embarrassed 🫠🫠🫠

“... Tomioka-san?”

You won’t lie; you aren’t especially bothered 🤭

But it is a compromising position to be caught in; Giyuu lowkey crushing you, one of his palms clearly cupping your boob 😬

#wrestling #or something #so maybe this isn’t super realistic #forgive me

You’re about to repeat his name when he finally springs to life, immediately rolling off you, standing abruptly, about to literally sprint away

And then he remembers his manners 🙃

He offers you a hand

His other hand; his boob hand is currently tucked away in his haori

He’s never washing it again

#closet perv

“Thanks,” you smile faintly, accepting his assistance as you lift yourself from the ground

You hope he can’t hear your heartbeat 💓

He definitely can 😶

But can you hear his?

“I don’t think we should train together anymore.”

Giyuu is swift and harsh with his solutions

“Why?”

Your question comes out stiffer than intended

He hesitates, unable to interpret the fear in your tone — the longing

“I always beat you,” he explains lamely, “Don’t you get tired of losing?”

You scoff cheerfully, grinning now as you squeeze his hand

Fuck, we were still holding hands?! <— Giyuu is in shambles 😳

“I could never lose!” you declare, feelings brimming in your throat, spilling onto your tongue, “Not when I’m with you.”

Then we should absolutely stop training together would be the responsible reaction

Attachments are the most dangerous game for a Hashira to play 😕

Instead, Giyuu’s rendered speechless, unable to shake his hand from yours

“Well alright then,” he mutters, stomach churning as he narrowly avoids the warmth in your gaze

In fact, you swear he squeezes back 💓

“EXCUSE ME! I HAVE A WIFE!” 😤😤😤

“You have three wives.” 🙄

Sputtering, Tengen shrieks, “I already have plenty of breasts to touch!”

“Tengen,” you glare, not one to back down as you jab a finger into his own chest, “You touched my boob.” 😒

“AND I’M SORRY!” 😭

Much better 😌

“I don’t know what they see in you,” you scoff (you’re also lying, you can see plenty🤭), “They’re gorgeous… and you freak out when you accidentally touch a boob.” 💀

Tengen is 100% pouting now

“I don’t freak out when I touch their boobs,” he huffs

“Well aren’t they lucky.” 😐

“You could be lucky too!”

…

Tengen starts running

You give chase

“DID YOU TALK TO THEM ABOUT THIS?”

Tengen runs faster

“TENGEN!!!!!”

Tengen runs faster and faster

You give up

*insert gasping for air here*

“DO YOUR WIVES KNOW THEY’RE MARRIED TO A COWARD???!!!”

Oh well, you’ll have to visit their estate sometime this week 🙃

You’re sure to get an answer from Hina, Makio, and Suma ☺️

And you can’t wait to see more of Tengen 😏😋

Sorry, sometimes the horny just happens 🥴

#hashira x reader #headcanons #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #gyomei x reader #obanai x reader #mitsuri x reader #shinobu x reader #kyojuro x reader #sanemi x reader #muichiro x reader #giyuu x reader #tengen x reader

5K notes · View notes

mamayan · 1 year ago

Note

You up? Give us some delicious yandere stuff 🙏 let's say... Fae King yandere and changeling darling 😏✨

This turned into a full fic :3 ~★ In honor of some monster fucking!

Yandere! Dark Fae King x Darling! Changeling

tw: NSFW • Obsessive/Possessive Themes • Non-Human Morality • Kidnapping • afab Reader • Dubcon • Oral (F) • Grooming (reader is of consenting adult age) • Forced Mating • Imprisonment • Violence (not toward reader) • Implied Murder • Rough Sex • Praise • Overstimulation • Dumbification • Belly Bulge • Size Kink

Part Two: Here

“…hic…sniff…”

Dark eyes glanced into the cool night, curious as to what creature was disturbing his evening.

“…hic…” it came again, much to his chagrin.

The still lake reflected the full moon like a mirror. To his left, not too far off, he honed in on the disturber. Something small and curled up. Shaking. The oddity enough to catch his full attention as he stood silently. The night his home and prison as he swiftly left in a puff of smoke over to the location of his intruder.

You.

His first instinct to end your miserable life, a human somehow entering his domain and crossing his barriers, but upon a closer look… he realized you were of his own kind.

A changeling at that. An abandoned fae left to die in the hands of mortals. Few if any live to maturity like this, but your short human stature led him to believe your growth was surely stunted due to neglect. Young fae needed abundant love and care in their infancy, the first 100 years of life incredibly crucial for their development. Least they end up like him and his kingdom. You were even younger than full maturity, though your physical body had completed it’s growth, your magic was weak and juvenile.

You were making odd noises which drew his curiosity, moving closer to your form, face buried in your lap as you hunched over your drawn up legs. Your feet were bare as the edges of the water lapped at them. Clothing sparse and tattered, rags unfit for even a human, let alone a Fae nearing maturity.

“Noisy little thing,” he hums aloud, startling you as you jolt and nearly throw yourself into the water. Your neck snaps up, pretty face swollen and blotchy from tears looking up and up until you saw a creature looming over you.

Your scream is cut off by a clawed dark hand, slapping over your mouth and muffling the cry as you try to jerk away in fear and panic. He watches in mild amusement, snickering as you realize your struggle is futile and efforts dying down. “Scream if you like, but none other than I will hear it out here.” He assures ominously, thin onyx colored lips pulling back to bare his razor sharp canines and pearly teeth at you. His grin savage and delighted in your terror.

He watches curiously as your wide doe eyes well up with tears, the crystalline droplets spilling up and over your cheeks, soft lips quivering beneath his palm. You reminded him of an animal imploring their predator for mercy by revealing their underbelly. There was a word for it…

Cute. His mind conjured at last. He found you cute, a changeling bold enough to intrude into the kingdom of the corrupted. You hadn’t even dropped the mirage covering you, old magic from your biological family still covering your natural appearance to mimic the human you parasitized off the life of.

“Why do you cry little one?” He asks softly, attempting not to terrify you further and avoid his questions.

You hesitate, but his molten gold eyes seem to melt through your defenses despite his dangerous and beautiful appearance. “I’m wrong,” you sniffle, grateful when he removes his enormous hand off your face, the sharp claws tipped in gold frightening against your soft breakable skin. “All wrong… and I don’t know what to do.” You curl back up around yourself, as if he too will cast judgement upon you.

He awkwardly mimics your stance, curiosity blazing as watches you in fascination. You find the way his monstrously large form contorts to sit like you somewhat baffling and amusing, less frightened now that he doesn’t seem to wish you harm.

“How are you wrong then?” He pries further, cupping his defined jaw and leaning into his hand as he observes.

“I’m not…I’m not human—I’m a—a—,” you stumble, unsure if this night is even real anymore. The shock so great you’re still trying to cope.

“A faery?” He supplies, amused by the way you gesture with your hands, expression so open and easy to read. “A changeling raised amongst humans to feed off their happiness?” His deep voice purrs it happily, as if he’s glad for it.

He is. His hatred of humans not something he feels the need to hide.

You appear devastated though, “I didn’t mean to—I don’t want to hurt or make anyone unhappy.” You mumble miserably, tugging at your hair and skin, as if that will dispel the magic which hides your true appearance.

“That’s just how our kind is, we need that happiness to grow properly.” He rubbles, eyeing your shocked expression. “We also happen to be fickle creatures ironically, and if a newborn is thought to need too much care, it is pawned off on humans who have more patience.” He clarifies, smiling as you seem to take him in with new eyes.

“You— are you a faery too? You just seem…” he chuckles as you awkwardly trail off.

“Evil? Centuries ago humans once called me the devil,” he laughs, his dark hair falling into his face like a waterfall as he shakes the loose fluffy curls, his pointed horns jutting from the top of his forehead jet black and smooth like ivory. He was too beautiful to call a devil, though you supposed it could be because of that which he was deemed so. His every feature seeming to catch your gaze with it’s beauty.

“I was going to say different…” you trail off shyly. “You don’t seem evil to me at least.”

He pauses, taking you in again as you regard him with those harmless eyes still wet with drying tears. It’d been centuries too since he’d left his kingdom, the entrance to the veil this lake he occasionally comes up to lounge by. He hasn’t seen a human since then, let alone a changeling or uncorrupted little faery like you.

He likes those pretty tears. He finds it annoying you shed them for humans you should guiltlessly take from.

His smile widens, eyes glittering mischievously and nearly glowing as he leans closer. The smell of sugar and cinnamon wafting off of him as you breathe in, nearly gasping as your mouth waters.

“How’s this little one? I’ll teach you how to be a faery, to show you there is nothing wrong with you.”

His eyes, where they should be white are entirely inky black, golden irises with reddened pupils framed by dark thick lashes, looked sincerely upon you.

He seemed genuine and kind despite his towering humanoid figure which looked to be capable of killing you easily.

It warmed you though, the thought of wanting to belong strong as you nod with a smile.

“I’d be eternally grateful.” You nod.

Sealing your fate.

“Tell me your name.” He asks sweetly, because despite his menacing size and sharp teeth and nails, your new friend was nothing but kind and gentle with you.

“Y/N” you reply easily, letting him playfully ruffle your hair as he picks out the leaves which got tangled in your locks from your travels here.

When he repeats it though, wonderful shivers shoot down your spine. He smiles, cooing at you like one might a baby as a he teases, “Such a cute name for a cute faery.”

You weakly protest, but fall into easy laughter as he swiftly changes the subject.

He was discussing proper fae etiquette. The basics, to not say please or thank you or I’m sorry. They all meant you expected more from the other or wouldn’t reciprocate, and that was just bad manners.

His soft hands, which could easily cover your entire face, were settled on your upper arms, having sat you in the grass against his chest.

He liked holding you close. Your little figure so soft, and from the dark circles beneath your human appearance, he assumed the neglect from the humans you resided amongst was growing worse. It was bad for your development.

“You should come live out here, they are vile creatures you know.” He comments every time you visit, though he never forces you to stay with him.

“It’s because I make them unhappy…” you explain sheepishly.

He shakes his head, thick brow arching as he rolls his eyes. “You are nearly completely mature now, you suck no happiness from your surroundings anymore silly girl.” Your confusion was palpable as he sighs and further explains, enjoying the squish of your tender flesh as he lightly squeezes you.

“While it is true fae infants are quite the hassle to raise, it isn’t as tortuous as humans make it out to be. In fact, most fae will take their child back if not treated well by their human surrogates.”

You hum, relaxing back against his warm chest and breathing in his sugary scent.

“So why wasn’t I—,” you stop short, brows furrowed but no longer speaking.

He doesn’t pry further, leaning his chin atop your head as he looks out at the lake.

“You won’t tell me?” You push, annoyed how he dances around your question endlessly. Your companion close enough that you feel insulted he won’t reveal it.

“My name is not to be uttered aloud, least calamity befall this land~” he’s teasing, you know he is, but still he refuses to divulge his name. “I gave you mine,” you argue again, huffing as he chuckles and lightly shoves you to your back on the grass, leaning over you and caging you in beneath him.

The moon is bright like the first time you’d met, illuminating his other worldly beauty.

“If you wish to call me something, call me Master,” he laughs, his sharp teeth no longer scaring you, but making your thighs squeeze together whenever he flashes them. He acts nothing like an immortal being, too immature and jovial to resemble someone having lived for thousands of years.

“So why do you get my name, but I don’t get yours?” You question in annoyance, avoiding his kiss to your cheek by jerking your face away. He huffs, sharp gaze daring you to dodge again.

You do. Earning yourself a warning nip to your collarbone as you yelp.

“Mean!” You cry, pushing at his chest as he snickers.

“Yes little flower, I am very, very, mean.” He rumbles, chest literally vibrating much like a cat does to purr.

“You give me weird nicknames…” you mutter, giving up as he licks your cheek. You don’t fight it, even as it feels foreign to you, trying to accept this side of your culture.

He licks your neck, lavishing the point where your pulse races with wet kisses and you tremble and struggle to act unaffected beneath him.

His smile is dangerous outside your view.

“Star!” You giggle, his rumble of irritation not the least intimidating to you as you roll away.

“That is an awful nickname.” He hisses, face twisted in disgust as you throw out the most horrendous names you could conjure in your pretty head at him.

“Lumi!” He growls.

“Then… Kitty?” He nearly bites you, careful not to play too roughly as he lightly tackles you down.

“If I give you a nickname, will you cease your little game?” He feels his anger fade as he wraps his arms around your smaller figure, easily pulling you into his lap. You don’t even flinch, too engrossed in your amusement to care where he handles you. You nod happily, your wish finally being fulfilled.

“Very well you stubborn creature,” he chides, “In addition to Master, you may also call me King.”

You frown. Clearly displeased by the lack of intimacy in the name. He laughs, amused by your obvious dislike. He kisses your puffed cheeks, over your pouty lips, and down to your vulnerable neck. Snickering as he goes, adoring how you so easily become pliant for him.

“I am teasing pretty flower, there was a time long ago I was called Ava, will you settle now?” He asks, voice husky as he sucks a mark into your skin, your little whine flaring his desires.

A strong urge to press you down and mate you nearly overpowers his control, but he merely holds you close and breathes your floral scent in to calm himself.

“I still prefer Kitty…” His eye twitches.

“Ava… this feels weird…” he pauses, looking down at your small form still cloaked like a human. Weak beneath him, partially nude as your skirt is pulled up to your soft belly. Your thighs are spread and shaking, his lips sucking another mark onto the thin skin of your inner thigh while you writhe.

He had your wet dripping slit open to the night air and his lustful gaze, begging for his tongue to taste.

“You don’t want to please me?” He asks, purring as you pout but deny. You were such a good little girl for him after all, so eager to learn and soak up his attention.

He resumes, licking down your thigh until his face rested above the warm mound you so sweetly offered him.

“You’re being so good for me petal, can you keep your legs open or should I help you?” He doesn’t need to look up to know you’re shaking in arousal and embarrassment. He can feel the tremors through the air as you struggle to keep your thighs spread as he asked.

“I-I need help…” you admit, feeling terribly hot as he keeps licking you, except where you seem to ache for him to lick.

He easily shifts forward, arms wrapping around you and letting your legs rest over his shoulders as he finally lets his tongue slip out to taste you.

You glance down, choking at the sight and feeling as he lets his entire tongue come out, the appendage inhumanly long and colored purple. It feels strange, the wet slimy feeling of his tongue slithering through your folds, but when he nudges the tiny nub hidden above your slit, you moan.

It sends jolts of electricity through you, hips canting up so he can to lick there again, earning you a hearty chuckle as he obliges. Licking and even curling his tongue around it, riling you up as your tiny hole leaks arousal and drips down your ass to the earth below.

“You’re making a mess petal, do you feel good? Should I stick my tongue inside you this time?” You moan, feeling the muscle prod at your unused vaginal entrance, too hazy to bother responding. He doesn’t wait for your answer, letting the thin tip of his tongue lap and taste your heady desire before poking and wiggling inside you.

It has your legs shooting straight, back arching as he holds you down with one large hand placed over your belly and chest. He groans as he feels the molten texture of your insides struggling against his intrusion, trying to force him out of your tight heat as he surges forward.

The tip of his tongue curls, swirling up and knocking the air from your lungs as a rush of hot liquid spills from your insides for him to drink down.

You shook and twitched, moaning and curling your hands around his curved horns like a handle.

The touch sends blood racing to his cock, as he moans and loudly slurps your cum down with audible squelching, enjoying the cries you released into the quiet night.

He lets you rest as he pulls back for just a moment, your body limp and panting as your high comes down.

“Good girl~” he praises, leaning over you to kiss softly at your sweaty skin, licking that too and tasting the sweet and salty mixture.

Then he’s pressing his lips against yours, forcing them open to sneak his long tongue inside your mouth, filling it and claiming that space too as his own. You’re helpless to resist, delirious on pleasure as he devours you, wiggling muscle curling and rubbing erotically around your own.

He tastes like sugar and something heavier, more musky, as you come to realize it as your own taste.

“Is this… really normal…?” You can help but ask as he pulls away, his lips still sticking close to trail kisses across your skin.

“It’s quite normal little flower, are you shy still?” He asks curiously, lifting one of your small hands and bringing it to his face, his size dwarfing you considerably. He lightly nibbles on your fingers, making a giggle bubble up as you smile and then squirm when he grins and licks your hand instead.

“A little…” you admit honestly. Always so honest and open.

He nods, as if completely understanding.

“That’s alright, we’re in no rush, I’ll teach you slowly…” there’s something else not said in his words, and you’re left drunk on his pheromones and lips as he distracts you. Then he’s kissing down, discarding your clothing and leaving you naked for his mouth and curious fingers.

Your breasts are lavished in his saliva, pebbled nipples sucked until standing upright before poked down with the tip of his tongue playfully. Always so playful, Ava nips and teases your skin, blinking innocently when you moan and glare accusingly.

“It’s not my fault you enjoy this so much petal~” he pouts, looking comical and so harmless, his glittery gold wings, almost translucent behind him, fluttering as if indignant to your silent accusation.

The golden tattoos which marked his skin more visible tonight, his clothing more minimal in his wish to feel more of you as he explores and plays.

Then he’s parting your thighs and throwing you into ecstasy again.

“Who did it?”

You sat curled around yourself, terror and dread swirling inside of you at the new side of Ava you’d never been graced with before.

The side you supposed was reserved for his enemies, but now showed to you.

Despite your fear, the tears spilling down your cheeks, and the injuries you bore, you still remained stubbornly silent.

He was going insane with rage and anguish.

You truly were a flower. So delicate and easily destroyed.

“Y/N… while I am being reasonable…Tell. Me. Who. Did. It.”

For all the times he’d made himself smaller, less alarming and more charming than his true nature called for, it made this time more appallingly. He stood to his full height, like an unwavering tree he did not budge or allow you to leave, golden eyes flaring and mixing with his red pupils to create something alarming. Even the markings which covered his dark skin seemed to glow and match his eyes, magic crackling in the air and silencing the night further.

As if the stars and moon were frightened too.

Still, still, you did not speak, even as he closed in on you, your fear so strong it almost choked him. Almost. He was too angry, too furious with the humans he liked to cast out of his mind. They needed to be taught a lesson it seemed. Their fear of the Fae renewed. They were becoming arrogant, as if their species was even in the same standing as them.

Your pretty injured face and form, battered from abuse and humiliation, was all the information he truly needed.

If you wanted to protect them, and not tell him, then he’d just punish them all as if they were the culprits.

It soothed him finally, his decision made as the ominous energy around him faded slowly. He let his rage dissipate, worry and concern bleeding through now as he crouched and shuffled towards you, claws spread and outstretched towards you.

“Come here Y/N, keep your secrets, but allow me to hold and comfort you…” his eyes darkened, the glow leaving behind almost a copper color, somber as he looks at you. There’s not pity in his eyes though, as you swallow and sigh in relief, grateful to crawl into his warm embrace where it feels safe.

He’s gentle as he wraps you in his arms, lips and tongue soothing as he tastes your tears and blood.

He grits his teeth, focusing on your scent and the feel of you to calm himself again, before letting his magic seep into your skin. You easily absorbed it, soaking it up like a sponge as your pain and injuries heal.

“Ava—?” Your eyes widen, amazement in their depths which stroke his ego as he taps his forehead against your own. His horns slightly tangling in your hair.

“Do you not want to drop the illusion on yourself?” He asks softly, staring at the human image your portray. He didn’t want to admit it, but it enraged him to see you still trying to live amongst them.

You seem surprised, before looking away nervously.

“It just feels strange… to not see myself anymore,” you confess, burrowing deeper into his chest while enjoying his ability to heal and soothe you. His sugary smell lightening your heavy heart.

He nods slowly, eyes staring at nothing over the still lake.

He holds you a little tighter.

Then you’re asleep.

The burns and screams of the people echo, the night come to life with flames and chaos.

Ava stands leisurely, smile filled with fondness as he watches the human village he’d followed and found to be your residence burn.

He’d spent all night playing with them, listening to them confess the awful things they’d done to you, said to you, and tried to do to you. They even thought of sacrificing you to some nonexistent deity, which only prolonged the nightmare he’d turned the populace into.

He laughed as the sounds swirled into music for his ears, the sharp points curling in delight as he hummed a tune older than the trees towering in this forest.

The night was still coming to an end sadly, and he’d need to return to your unconscious body still where he’d left it.

He didn’t want to let you wake in your new home alone after all.

His body covered in the blood of mortals he’d torn into and feasted on, Ava left them to perish.

Alone you woke. In a bed four times the size of any normal one, within the walls of a palace you’d only ever seen depicted in stories told by faraway travelers.

You glanced down, at hands unlike ones you were accustomed to seeing. You were nude, unable to hide from yourself as you felt tears begin to sprout. The illusion magic wasn’t working, and you couldn’t understand why.

This body was your true form, not that of the human you continuously tried to convince yourself you were. You hadn’t showed Ava, too afraid he’d see your appearance and dislike you for it.

While he was magnificent, you felt puny and odd.

A hiss snatches you from your self loathing, eyes flicking up to land on the one you’d just been thinking of.

He was covered in something, though you weren’t entirely sure what until he moved closer. The pearls lining his chambers glowed softly, his appearance more vibrant as he closed the distance between himself and the bed you laid on.

You sucked in a breath, realization dawning as the red contrasts against his skin. His lower face completely smeared in it, but his lips seemed clean. Until he grinned, red stained sharp teeth with chunks of dark meat stuck in between.

You remembered briefly him mentioning being mistaken for a demon.

You finally understood as a strange fear blossomed in your gut and you scooted away. Confusion and terror consuming you, but your body not catching up with your mind, because it recognized his scent and touch. You didn’t move quick enough, a clawed hand easily curling around your ankle and tugging you close. You slid smoothly over the cool silk, brought close to his body radiating heat. He only wore trousers, his taloned feet bare and ankles revealed as he’d cuffed them up to avoid bloody human fingers trying to grip them.

“Oh my little flower, look at you,” his eyes are swirling melted gold, enchanting and so disorienting. His beauty becoming savage with the blood and human flesh he adorned.

“A-Ava…” you want to ask, but you also don’t want the answer.

Did he find out who hurt you? Or was it unrelated? It seemed too coincidental.

Your chest constricted painfully as he stared down at you in wonder. Your true form so lovely it took his breath away, your image so fitting for you it was a wonder why you didn’t prefer this over your human mirage. Your ears, pointed like his own, were curled down a little with your emotions, as his eyes traced your face.

The shape was the same, your body still so small, and your eyes still expressed every little thought without fail.

He hated to admit it was even cuter, though he mused it was likely because he was the first to see your true form.

An abandoned young changeling, one he only took mild interest in, had him so thoroughly ravenous for all of you now.

“Isn’t this more comfortable petal? Instead of masquerading as a filthy human, aren’t you happier to just be you now?” His callous words seem off, but you can’t quite fathom it all as the shock settles in.

“My precious flower faery, are you scared?” Yes, you wanted to scream, as his bloody face and body near you, his sugary scent over powered by the scent of iron and death. Fae hated iron. He shouldn’t be comfortable.

You choked, jerking back and trying to crawl away from him, but he still had your ankle caged in his hand.

He laughs, but it’s empty and devoid of any true humor as he stares down at you with something dark in his gaze.

He yanks you back, harshly and sending a jolt of pain up your leg as you cry out, pulled back beneath him as he crawls onto the bed over you.

He’s too close, nausea consuming you as you smell and see the gore adorning him.

He finds your useless fear amusing and annoying all at once.

“I asked you a question little flower.” He grips your face, smushing your cheeks and making you look at him.

He rolls his eyes as the tears you so love to shed spill down your cheeks.

“Yes… I-I’m scared…” his smile softens, almost becoming sweet and familiar.

“Good. You should be.” Your blood runs cold.

He has the mercy to bathe, but not alone. You watch as the spray of water from some sort of piping turns pink as it disappears through tiny holes in the marble floor.

He’s nude, like you, and even though you cower and try to turn away, he easily stops any and all retreats with hardly any effort.

“I thought you didn’t like the blood? I’m still not clean petal.” His fluffy curls are flattened by the water falling above, the warm spray soaking you both as you try not to wonder why the sticky redness won’t just wash away with the water. The dried portions difficult to get off without physically touching and rubbing him with your soapy hands. You wanted to know why he was doing this, being so mean.

His ears look more distinct with his hair flat, onyx horns prominent against his forehead as his lashes hold droplets of water to frame his golden eyes.

You try not to show it, but as the blood clears and his dark smooth gold lined skin is revealed, you notice the hard lines of muscle and purple veins which protrude.

You only come up just below his chest, and you can’t look down, least you see it again.

He was making you nervous and scared on purpose, but you couldn’t understand why.

Like a coward you didn’t ask either, because you feared the answer even more.

Ava shifts, fingers coming up to cup your face in his hands and tilt your head up as he leans over you and blocks the water falling. His claws jut out beside your head, one lightly tickling your pointed little ear.

He licks his lips, loving the sight of you soaked and naked, your pretty form so enthralling to his eyes he struggles to contain himself.

“Do you want my help…?” His tone is condescending, eyes uncaring in the least about your inner turmoil.

“Here,” he drops one hand, engulfing your wrist and forcing you to plant your hand against his abdomen. “You have to wash like this—,” he teaches patiently, like none of this was happening and everything was fine. He moves your soft little hand back and forth, the soap quick to wash away as the water continues to fall. “You need more soap petal.” He informs gently, moving to stop the warm spray and letting you both stand in silence now, drops of water falling the only noise besides your breathing.

He sighs when you don’t move, your eyes trained on the corner of the spacious bathing room, where an in ground bath rests. He would take you to the hot springs later.

He fills the hand he has control of with soap, and amuses himself with using it like a washcloth, your little fingers curling as your lips tilt down into a frown.

“Since you need the help,” he goads, watching as those sweet familiar doe eyes flash up a glare from the corner of your eye.

He smiles, a nasty grin filled with something sinister as he chuckles darkly. “Don’t want to be my good girl anymore?” It’s a loaded question you’re unsure of how to answer.

It hardly matters as he forces your hand down, until you jolt at the change in body part you were touching. He forces your fingers to close around his throbbing length, unable to touch or fully wrap around it as your head jerks instinctively to look at what he was making you do.

“A-Ava—,” you try to pull away, but to no avail. He only hums, the soap like lube as he uses your hand to jerk his cock, amused as you stare in shock. He won’t let you go, not when the sight of your smaller form holding his leaking rod is so arousing he comes a minute a later. Hips thrusting with the timing of the squeeze he forces your hand to hold, hot ropes of his seed shooting out onto your chest and belly as he cages you with his free arm from moving away. He allows his purple tapered tip to smear the remaining pearls of his seed on your skin, ignoring your whine of protest as he paints you.

“Fuck, that’s it, be good for me pretty girl,” he growls lightly, chest rattling as he releases his pent up frustration on your confused form.

Really, you couldn’t be more adorable covered in his release looking dazed.

His golden eyes heavy lidded as he crouches down to catch your lips in a heated kiss.

You swallow nervously, staring at Ava as he stares at you from across his bed chambers.

You’d fallen asleep after… after bathing, if you could even call it that, and awoken later to find yourself alone again. Ava missing and your body covered by fine silk sheets while you slept.

You’d scrambled about the room looking for escape, finding nothing but a single exit locked, which Ava now stood before.

He wore a pair of silken sleep pants, tailored to his enormous figure as well as a matching robe left loose and revealing a majority of his chest and abdomen. His wings weren’t physical but a magic which naturally formed behind him, you’d learned.

The gold markings on his body were duller than earlier, his eyes less vibrant and more cool as he looks at you.

He seems more… familiar. Less of the Ava covered in blood and flesh of humans and more of the one you’ve befriended.

He’s silent, unmoving as he stands still in the doorway.

You don’t want to make the first move, unsure in this new environment, but you similarly disliked all of this distance and miscommunication between you both.

You moved cautiously, much like the skittish animal he likens you to in his mind, off the bed. You’d wrapped yourself in one of his sheets, his scent clinging to you the only thing stopping him from tearing it off you in annoyance. He stays put, muscles taunt and jaw clenched as you approach him like he might harm you.

He debated it.

Briefly showing you why you should be obedient and just listen, but dismissing it in favor of you liking him at least to some degree.

When you reach him, he merely stares down at you, face impassive unlike your nervous and awkward expression.

“Ava…?” He finally shifts, leaning down to close the distance a little but still not touching you. It’s you who initiates, because he’s certain he’s trained you well enough in your past touch starved state that you can’t resist the comfort and warmth he provides. You wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your figure to his while looking up with those honest eyes he adores.

He finally relaxes, your touch so addicting he was unable to resist wrapping you further into his embrace while lifting you up. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, warm bare cunt now pressed against his abdomen while your arms come around his neck. The sheet loosening and falling down to pool at his feet. He finally smiles at your flustered state, not letting you climb down to grab it, instead moving you both towards his—your—bed and easily laying you down to drape over you.

“You’re calmer than I imagined you’d be…” he murmurs against the skin of your neck, kissing up to your jaw. “Should I prepare for your wrath later little flower?” He muses, lifting up to look at your expression.

“Was that blood… from a human?” You look guarded but he isn’t surprised.

“Yes.”

“Did you kill them?” He affirms again.

“Was it because of… me?” Those sweet eyes looked so haunted as you asked, as if you knew what he was going to say.

“No. It wasn’t because of you.”

You check his face, as if he were a human and would lie to you as they do.

“Then why did you do it?” You breathed, sagging in relief beneath him. His lips twitch, molten eyes shining with adoration as he looks upon you.

“They greatly offended me.” He answers vaguely, but it was the truth. They offended him by breathing and walking the earth. It was a direct insult to him. They only met misfortune because they caught his attention.

You seemed happy to accept whatever rid you of any guilt, looking up at him less fearfully now that he was clean and not being mean to you. Though, you both shared very different definitions of being “mean”.

“Am I staying the night?” You asked him curiously. You had thought he’d brought you here as he didn’t know where your home in the village was when you’d fallen asleep.

He shook his head, lips curling higher.

“You’re staying forever.” He declares, sweet scent filling your senses as he comes close enough to kiss you.

Then he does.

You thought his teasing was funny, lips tilting up finally as the awkwardness dissipates and familiarity rises.

This is your Ava, warm sweet Ava that smells so good it makes you crave sweets you cannot afford.

He presses you further into the unfathomably soft bed, his lips demanding as you open for him.

“Ava,” you break the kiss, breathing heavier as he growls and nips at your bottom lip, a shiver wracking you as he leans back enough to meet your gaze. “What we’re doing… it’s what lovers and spouses do isn’t it? At least, this is what human lovers do…” your voice becomes smaller as he stares down as you with an expression you couldn’t name.

“And?” He encourages.

You look away for a moment, gathering your thoughts before remembering out of all the cruelty in the world, Ava was the outlier.

“Is that what we’re doing? Like lovers?” You felt too embarrassed to directly state it, to say it aloud, and equally scared this isn’t anything different than exchanging a handshake with another faery to him. It was different to you.

“Do you want it to be?” He leans down, placing a feather soft kiss against your temple so you couldn’t see his eyes glowing bright. “Do you want us to be like lovers little flower?” His voice is deeper than usual, strained almost as he holds himself perfectly still above you.

You take the time to think, much to his displeasure, but when you answer it was everything for him.

“I do.”

He places a chaste kiss to your lips, his own tilting higher and higher until he’s grinning gleefully.

“Then that’s what we’ll be.” He confirms, and you miss it.

You miss every little trap he’d laid, each tiny piece of the puzzle forming around you like a cage. You miss everything and it’s too late to go back now. Ava muses wickedly, as he kisses you more sensually, lets his claws drag so delicately down your soft skin, he thinks how stupid you are.

“I’ll be all yours if you ask for it Y/N,” he speaks directly into your pointed ear, hot breath making the tips curl as you whine. The way he says your name is different than usual, more serious and seductive. You realize this seems wrong somehow, the way he’s making you melt so easily like this, how your panic and fear evaporated so quickly. You aren’t given time to think further, when he shifts and sits up. He sneers when you attempt to cover yourself again, gripping your wrist and lightly pulling you up too. On your knees, you face his chest, eyes looking up to see his heated expression.

Ava cups your jaw with one hand, and pokes at your lip with the other.

He doesn’t ask before his thumb invades your mouth, and you fight not to bite down or jerk away with his pointed claw inside.

He’s exploring, squeezing your cheeks until you open wide so he can playfully run over your sharpened canines. Curiously playing with your tongue until he leans down licks it with his own. It felt strange and erotic, your body vibrating with nerves and budding arousal as he explores you.

“Ava…” you wanted to touch him too, but he didn’t seem to be listening as he lets his hands trail down to cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples as your back arches into them.

So you let your own hands wander, bolder than usual as you feel his solid form beneath you. His skin is much softer than it appears, strange markings and golden symbols flat. He had no softer points aside from that, muscles like stone and occasionally uncomfortable to lounge against due to it.

He squeezes your waist, smiling mischievous as you yelp and glare at him. He does it again, finally chuckling as he lets his hands slip to your ass.

This time his squeeze makes you gasp, as he parts your ass cheeks and allows your heated core to be exposed to the air. His claws so careful not to tear your skin open as he drags you taunt against him, rutting his hardened cock against your soft belly.

He moans aloud as he sees the tip poke out between you, your breasts above a delicious sight as he does it again and again.

“You drive me wild pretty faery,” he smiles, licking your cheek as he easily lifts you up to toss you to the center of the bed. You sink in, huffing but giggling as he crawls over you, looking like a dark angel as he covers you completely to capture your lips in a much more filthy kiss.

“I want to devour you,” he purrs, licking and kissing down your neck and chest, spreading your legs. “Make you mine completely,” you moan, feeling delirious as he finally licks your sloppy pussy.

You moan when you feel his fingers prod your entrance, sharp claws gone and retracted as he pushes one inside you while he laps at your clit. It feels different and firmer than his tongue, able to rub and stretch you better as he begins sucking on your puffy nub and purring deep in his chest. “Your little nub is hard~ are you feeling good?” He teases, wiggling the tip of his tongue over your engorged clit.

Then he’s pressing a second finger in, a mild burn heating your core as you gasp and try to shift away to no avail. “So sensitive,” he murmurs, spearing them into you, your soft gummy walls forcefully spread around the two digits as he noisily slurps. He’s being messy and a bit rough, but your moans spur him on as he groans into your pussy when you begin clawing at his hair and whining.

“Ava! S’too much! Can’t—!” You squeak and almost bite your tongue when you cum, pussy sucking his fingers deep and massaging them as you soak his hand and face.

He doesn’t stop, eyes glowing bright molten gold as he watches you squirm and babble senselessly while he stuffs a third finger into your poor overstimulated cunt. Your little hole stretched wide around him, and he’s content to watch as your greedy lower mouth takes it as he pumps them into you.

You’re less amused though, body thrumming as the pleasure becomes overwhelming and you panic.

“Stop, I’m gonna make a mess, Ava stop—!” You cry out, eyes watering before tears fall as you struggle to stop the powerful pressure building in your core, hurting you with the intensity as he pushes you further and further. “Your insides are steadily swallowing and sucking my fingers in, aren’t you a little lewd?” He asks, unaffected by your dull nails digging into his forearm, eyes trained on your drooling hole below.

He’s got an iron grip on your hip with his other hand, nails digging into your flesh every time you try to squirm away. “You’re so lovely like this petal.”

He’s fascinated when you break again, clear fluid squirting up and out from your squelching pussy as he continues to shove his fingers in.

You cum so hard it nearly causes you to lose consciousness, eyes rolling back as you twitch and moan as the dam inside you bursts open.

You whine as he pulls free, hand dripping in gooey arousal as he brings it to his lips and slurps it up without any decorum, appearing almost starved as he gazes down at you with the eyes of a predator. “Messy girl~ I’ll teach you though,” his lips pull back to reveal his sharp teeth, “When you feel so good you think you’ll break, you’re supposed to say I’m coming, do you understand?” He asks darkly.

“No more…” your weak plea only makes him smirk, kissing you softly as he slides forward and uses both hands to cover your hips and lift your lower half up.

Your eyes feel heavy as you force them open, slow to realize that his enormous cock is now laid over your pussy, pulsing and dragging back and forth through your slick folds. The thick veiny appendage causes your trepidation to rise, realization dawning that he intends to fit that inside of you.

“It won’t fit—,” you weren’t being cute or coy, because while you may not be human, your form was still the same size as one. He was much, much bigger, and his cock certainly fit his proportions. You try to catch his attention, unable to close your legs with his body between them. “Ava,” He’s truly not hearing you at all, too enthralled and excited as he lubes his massive length up with your juices. He’s shaking a bit too, heart beating rapidly in his chest as he coos down at you mindlessly, golden orbs almost unseeing at this point as he lines up with your entrance.

“So good for me petal~ you’re all mine aren’t you?” He breathes, and you feel the weight and pressure begin as his tip breaches.

“Wait, stop Ava—!” You whine as the sting becomes a burn and then you’re being filled to the point of excess as you struggle to breathe anymore.

“Shh—♡,” he hushes you, pained as well due to the pressure around him, strangling him as he grimaces and drags back out a little before surging forward. “You’re mine now petal,” he groans.

You’re unable to form words as he works his cock into you like a piece which doesn’t quite fit, bullying and stretching you open to forcefully fit himself.

He leans more weight down onto you as you struggle and writhe, noisy cries falling on deaf ears as he feels himself slipping deeper as your body finally gives up on keeping him out. His tip touches your cervix, before shoving even further and smashing it up as your stomach aches in protest.

You lay limp as he finally bottoms out, twitching with your mouth open and drool pooling down your chin as you feel nothing but the feeling of him inside you. He huffs a laugh, the way you look ruined before he’s even gotten started.

You look like a doll in his grasp, his cock extending your stomach a little as it twitches inside you. Your thighs ache as they’re naturally forced up, unable to spread fully enough for him to settle so he’d merely folded you and pressed you down to prevent escape.

“You did it pretty girl, look at you~” he grins, one hand leaving your hip to press on your belly, making your eyes widen and roll back as you whine. “You took every inch of me in this cute cunt didn’t you?” This male over you isn’t familiar, even as his sugary scent seems to increase and smother you, he seems foreign in his words and actions.

The inconsistencies are difficult to track as he drags himself out of you, the fullness replaced by feeling each ridge and bump of veins decorating his cock as he slides out.

Then he’s pushing in again, stealing your breath and ability to think as he starts to fuck you.

“Don’t worry petal, I won’t hurt you,” you can’t quite understand as he pushes his thick rod inside you, brain shutting off as you go pliant in his hold. “I’ll go nice and slow so you never forget,” he moans as you tighten and jerk, “who owns you.” He’s holding back with all his might as you spasm and grip him in inside of you, walls sucking him back in as he moves to exit.

You make him forget.

As you slick his cock up with your juices, he begins to slip in easier, folding you down further into a mating press as he looks down at your teary face. You make him forget all the time he’s spent alone. Your moans increase as he picks up the pace, pounding nice and deep inside of you and ridding you of any thought beside him. He slips a hand down between you both, claws retracted completely as he softly presses on your swollen clit and throws you reeling into another orgasm around him. “Say it petal,” he grits out, the feeling of you tightening drawing his own end. He’s hardly able to move inside you, short thrusts all he can manage as he drags you over the edge.

“I’m coming—!” Your head tips back, neck bared to his eyes as you cum for him obediently.

He fills you up right after, heavy engorged balls drawing up as he pumps his first load of the day into you. His thrusts not stopping as he rocks forward, expression relaxing as his magic swirls inside of you, his mating mark slowly sinking into your soul as he works to keep his seed deep within your womb. You’re too fucked out to notice, the pleasure and pressure overwhelming your senses as you try to rest now.

Except his cock doesn’t soften.

He thrusts hard once he’s sure his bond has settled, feeling you so much deeper in his soul as he drags his cock out almost all the way. “It’s like your little hole misses me already,” he smiles, watching as you flutter around his tip as if to tell him you don’t want him to leave. “Tell me petal,” he slides back inside, jolting you awake as you stare incredulously down at where you both connect. The slick sounds of him slipping into your sticky wet entrance haunting as you whine, hands digging into fine silk as you try to push away.

He only presses you down harder, cock burrowing deep as if to anchor you. His eyes are wild and swirling, the color so bright it’s almost blinding in the dim room. “How does it feel to lose?”

You blank. His question not making any sense as the room spins and you’re overcome again with pleasure so intense it makes your toes and feet curl in the air where they rest.

“How does it feel to be utterly mine for the rest of eternity?” You gasp, tearing at the sheets as he picks up the pace, balls slapping against your ass as he begins to truly fuck you now. Enormous cock working you into a frenzy as you yelp when two fingers pinch painfully around a nipple. “You’re not going back pretty girl,” he laughs, face wicked and beautiful as you look up through blurry eyes spilling tears. “You’ll not return to that filthy human village,” he releases your sore nipple in favor of loosely gripping your throat, feeling your pulse beneath his hand. “You are not in the land of Fae sweet flower,” he lets his lips ghost over yours, his tip bullying your cervix as you writhe and move to claw at his shoulders. “You are in my kingdom, ours, where the corrupted Fae separate themselves,” you’re lost, eyes crossing almost dumbly as you come again, choking as you cry out his name.

You can’t move even an inch, unable to even squirm as you’re forced to take each punishing inch of his cock and he ruts into you.

“Your pussy keeps tightening up when I tell you all the ways you’re mine. Do you like this?” He delights in your pathetic attempt to push at his chest, clearly finished despite his balls still being heavy with his seed he intends to spill into you.

“A-Av-Ava!” You struggle to form even his name, let alone any sentences as he keeps up his fast and brutal pace. Though, from his perspective he was still holding back as he moans and spills himself inside you again.

“Yes flower?” He coos, pushing your hair out of your sweaty face as he pulls out just enough to grip your thigh and turn you on your side, sliding back to the hilt again. He hugs your leg to his chest, working his cock at a new angle in your abused pussy still spilling cum from earlier. “I’m listening,” he chuckles, knowing you can’t speak, aware his cock was keeping you like this.

Words die down as he uses his hand not holding your leg up to grip your hip, holding you still while pushing his hips forward, railing himself inside your exhausted body. Your head rests against the bed, mouth open as your saliva soaks into the sheets, eyes staring at nothing as you feel another impending orgasm approaching.

Ava doesn’t mind, adoring the cute cock drunk expression as he uses you like a toy, filling you up over and over while you slowly lose your mind. “I’m sorry—Ava please, I’m sorry,” your slurred speech and delirious voice make him laugh. Genuinely amused by your rambling, “Why are you sorry petal? I’m not mad,” he catches your lips, tongue invading and swallowing your cries. He finds you so cute.

His cute, stupid little changeling, so trusting and unaware of his unsavory intentions.

You lose consciousness and count when he comes with his hips pressed deeply into your ass, pressing you belly first into his hand as he keeps you angled up to meet his thrusts. Your sensitive chest rubbing against the silk below, body limp as your world goes black and you convulse around him.

This time he lets you fall flat into the soaked bedding, taking his still hard cock out so he can pry apart your pussy lips and watch his release ooze out of your gaping hole.

His golden eyes flick up to your sleeping form, lips pulling as he coos, “Cute~♡” before he’s stuffing you full again, merciless as he leans on one arm to keep from crushing you as he continues to drill into you.

Even when you regain consciousness, trying to crawl away from his torturous pleasure, he only grips your arm and twists it gently behind you to hold. “You’re soaked and so hot inside, do you know how crazy you’re making me?” He groans, almost sounding like he’s in pain as you squeeze and come again. “I’m not letting you go, stop trying to run. You’ve already lost sweet girl.” As he lifts his hips, tip still encased by your wet hot heat, he eyes the slick mess which coats you both and connects you to him. “Go ahead and go crazy too, be good and listen.” He laughs, slamming back in and making your back arch as you nearly scream, feeling him so deep it makes you wonder if he’s going to break you. You really will go crazy, it’s a fleeting thought stolen by his cock once again, but you truly worry as he drowns you with euphoria and madness.

He’s hunched and leaning over your back, letting his tongue and teeth tease your ear so sweetly while he pounds you stupid, whispering to you things you won’t remember.

“You wanted my name so badly, didn’t you my lovely mate?” He knows you don’t understand, but it doesn’t stop him from speaking on, husky voice lulling you as you cry and lose yourself to pleasure. “I’ll tell you since you’re being so good, taking my seed so well~” he lets a little more weight settle on top of you, his cock nestling into your deepest parts with it.

“I am Avarice.”

Post dividers by @cafekitsune

#Dark Fae King x reader #Yandere Fae King x reader #Yandere Fae #monster smut #Greed x reader #Fae smut #faecore #yancore #yandere x reader #fae king #yandere smut #Dark Fae #kinktober fun #request filled #afab reader #Fae x reader smut #changeling #changeling reader

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yuriisclumsy · 8 months ago

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hii! How are you darling :)

Can i request a crack/ funny and fluffy cale x pregnant reader ? Like she is a few months pregnant, so cale and the kids always lay with her and dont let her do much.

Ofc the others are overprotective of her, bc like shes clumsy😭 like always falling down the stairs, nose bleeds (me core) and she watched everyone panic while looking at them with a deadpanned look bc

1. Shes a baddie whos to hot to die

2.the baby is fine and alive

And cale is loosing his mind bc he cannot leave her alone for two mins bc she will somehow make even more trouble simply bc shes ✨just a girl ✨

Stay still, will you?

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝:1,267

»»►This is a funny scenario. I like to think Cale is a super, over the top, overprotective, man. If you mess with those he cares about or loves, you’re about to find yourself in an interesting situation.

»»►But when Cale finds out he’s going to be a papa, he goes wild. Forget accepting whatever mission the crown prince wants him to do, he needs to be right next to his wife–24/7.

»»►And let’s be honest with ourselves, this man would literally take this chance to laze around even more. This is the life he wanted, no?

»»►Oh, but his dear wife doesn’t like sitting still for more than a minute. This is torture for her—but can’t do anything about it because her husband and (adopted)kids want her to relax and take care of herself and the baby.

»»►But, why? You may ask. That’s for the single fact that she is clumsy (hey just like me!). She crashes stuff, trips, falls, hurts herself—according to Cale and the others—she denies such accusations—and last but not least, she gets herself in trouble.

»»►So, yeah. [Name] have no “stepping outside the state” privileges until after the baby is here physically. But [Name] is a tough cookie. She can handle herself when no-one is around. So—to everyone’s dismay—she goes outside one day. It’s just to stroll around and see what has progressed in Harris Village.

»»►One thing to note: she didn’t tell a soul about her outing.

»»►Now imagine Cale’s face when he comes back to see the staff panicking for the whereabouts of his wife.

»»►Let's just say…it was chaotic that day.

“Woah, that looks tasty...!” [Name] drooled at the sight.

“Good morning, lady [Name]! What can I get you today?” The shop owner greeted [Name] with a smile.

“Can I have this please?” [Name] pointed to one of the delicacies of the bakery. It was a croissant-looking-bread stuffed full of chocolate.

The owner of the bakery gave her a bag filled with what she ordered. “Here you go! Please come back soon!” the owner waved goodbye.

“I will!” She waved back at the owner. [Name] took one of the baked goods and began to eat it.

“I wonder how everyone is doing at the state.”

…

“LADY [NAME]!”

“M’lady! Where are you?!”

“Does anyone remember the last place [Name] went to?!”

“M’lady, please be okay!”

Currently, everyone is in a frenzy. The lady of the house was nowhere to be found, and everyone and their mothers were running like headless chickens in search of her. And if they did not find her, their master was going to kill them!

“What is with the commotion here?” a voice spoke from the entrance of the manor.

Everything stopped. Slowly, the housekeepers and butlers turned their heads towards the voice. They knew this voice. Very well in fact. Although they grew to like it, right now, they wish they didn’t hear it. They prayed that it was a ghost. Dread overtook them as they saw the voice’s owner.

Cale Henituse. Their young master. And the husband of the manor’s lady they were trying to find.

“So? Is anyone going to tell me why you are all running like the world just ended?” Cale spoke.

Who was mad enough to even dare to tell the young master that his wife magically disappeared? Not me. And not anyone in this room.

Yet a brave soul stood up and spoke. May he rest in peace.

“Ah…y-young mater Cale,” a young butler went forward and vowed, stammering in his word, “we..uh…. Can’t find lady [Name] anywhere...?”

“...”

It was deafeningly silent. No one moved an inch, waiting—waiting for the order to execute them. They fully accepted their fate.

“Well, what are you all just standing there for?” he spoke, breaking the iceberg.

“Huh?”

“Standing still isn't going to bring back [Name].” He stood there, staring at the crowd.

He was right.

They needed to get back to searching for Lady [Name]!

A chorus of ‘yes, sir!’ was heard before a horde of housekeepers and butlers left in search of their Lady.

“*sigh* Why are you like this [Name]...?” Cale whispered and looked up. He slowly walked to the exit of the manor heading to the town; the children followed after him–this included Choi Han.

“Master Cale, where are you going?” Hans asked.

“I’m going to the market area in the town,” he said, not bothering to look back. “Ron, make my bed as comfortable as you can make, will you?”

“Yes, young master.” Ron responded.

“Great.”

…

Lovely day for [Name] sitting in the shade of an umbrella and her delicious foods. Going from one shop to another, she had managed to gather a lot of food. She had gone overboard again, yes, but the baby she was carrying and her were happy. Who could ever disturb such happiness?

“[Name].” A male voice called her name firmly from behind.

Of course. The only person that could was her husband. [Name] knew he only meant good, but right now he had broken that tranquility.

“Oh! Cale, love, darling, how are you...?” [Name] turned and looked at him nervously. The children had gathered around her–with Raon being invisible naturally.

“[Name]...” Cale rubbed the temples of his face before sighing, “why are you out?” he asked sternly.

“Well clearly, I was taking a walk. And I bought some snacks on the way.” She answered, petting both Hong and Raon while On made herself comfortable in her lap.

“What–no. That’s not what I meant.”

“You asked why I was out, and I told you why.”

“You know exactly why I asked that.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” [Name] gave the children the treats she had bought earlier.

“[Name], please. You know how dangerous it is for you to be here right now. You are due at any point now! And I just…agh..I just want you to stay safe.” He said in frustration.

[Name] looked at him, feeling a bit guilty that he is like that. She had reached her ninth month a week ago, making this month the most crucial. She just didn’t want to stay locked up in her room all the time. It was something that did not sit right with her.

“I’m sorry…” [Name] looked down in shame.

“I…*sigh* You are going to be the death of me.” Cale came closer to her and placed his hands underneath her.

“Hu-huh? Cale? What are you doing?” panicking a little before realizing he was going to carry her.

“Carry you, obviously.” He scuffed. “We’re going back to the manor.”

“Aww…can’t we go to another shop? It’ll be the last one, I promise!” Her begging went to deaf ears. He wasn’t letting her get away with it, so she started to wiggle her way out his arm.

“Stay still, will you?”

“Not until I get my last treat.”

“*sight…* Fine. But you’ll have it after dinner. Dinner is going to be served soon.” Cale said while walking to the nearest candy shop.

“Mmmm, I'm fine with that. Oh! Choi Han, hello. Sorry, I didn’t notice you there.”

“It’s fine lady [Name].” Choi Han gave her a small nod.

“Moooom…I want a treat too!”

“I also want one!”

“The great Roan Miru will get one too, right?”

“Wait a second. Since when do they call you mom?” Cale asked in confusion.

“Yes, yes. All of you will get one.”

“Don’t ignore me.”

Choi Han giggled as Cale continued to ask and get ignored by them.

Fin

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: @lureslutes, @cruzerforce4256, @narcise63, @potterhead-whovian-117, @margieee194, @zenix108, @vimenorie, @lunavixia, @potterhead-whovian-117, @alithurism, @matchalyne, @minteaspoon, @dontknowhowtousethis, @valacz29, @rainalovesouya, @vimenorie, @lunavixia, @ru8yx. Re-blog or Comment if you want to get added into the Tag section for Lout of Count's Family updates. Back to Lout Of Count's Family Master-List

Master-List

#cale henituse x reader #cale henituse #trash of the count's family x reader #trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #lout of the count's family x reader #reader input #x reader #manhwa x reader #totcf #manhwa #manhwa fanfic #choi han #ron #deruth henituse #hans #raon miru #on and hong

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deadghosy · 1 year ago

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Mommy long legs reader or slender man reader x Hazbin hotel 🌚🌝

AHHHH I LOVE YOU MY GHOST ANONNNN! SLENDERMAN?? YOU FINNA BRING OUT MY CREEPYPASTA PHASEE🦆✨💗‼️‼️‼️

HAZBIN HOTEL X SLENDERMAN! READER

prompt: a faceless creature of the height of 10’5 (or 7’9 idk I got two different heights from safari lol) came to hell to serve one final purpose…get a damn job.

Two words, scary tall…

So say your height was 10’5…

SHIT GON GET WICKEEDDDD!!!

Okay so I can see Charlie being scared staring at you as you just sit like a nice gentleman as your body doesn’t fit the whole seat… (y’know what, let’s go with 7’9…) you told Charlie you use to be a leader before you somehow came to this wrenched place

Charlie felt bad and gave you a job here so yon can stay. But she was confused when you said “somehow”’ as if you didn’t die as a Human…WAIT A MINUTE..DID YOU JUST TALK WITHOUT A MOU-

Lucifer looked up at you and was like….“What in the fucking nine circles…” and you two became friends because of how Lucifer put accessories on you like a Christmas tree

Y’know how people make slenderman wear reading glasses sometimes? That’s you. 😭 with your blind ass LMAOO (I also wear glasses dw…) But I can see you wear the glasses and residents be so confused because…you don’t have eyes for Christ out loud-

“Fuck you wearin' glasses for?” Husk said to you once as he caught you even reading a book…now he was more confused. “I’m reading…” “…..okay..” husk was so done with this buffoonery as you had no mouth and eyes. But yet you could still read, see, and fuckin talk? Yeah he must be drunk as hell itself…

You treat niffty just like how fanon slenderman treats Sally. That’s how I headcannon it.

I headcannon you to be the fanon version of slenderman rather the cannon version. Cause you being the fanon version is just sweet considering the chaos that can happen in the hotel and how you treat niffty.

I can see people thinking you are a new overlord as you had a stern aura around yourself as you had a proper straight walk as you held a high chin not showing any weaknesses.

“Woah….did you see that sinner get lit in flames…” “yeah I did.” It got so quiet so quick as angel gave you a confused face as you just stood there. 😭 Angel couldn’t tell if you were being fr or being a smartass

You were just sleeping on the couch, dead ass like a passed out beer dad after watching football. And fat nuggets sat in your lap sleeping. Then angel came and slept by you, then husk, then niffty, AND THEN EVERYONE JOINED 😭 big ass family cuddle💗💗🦆

You deadass could be the bodyguard of the hotel as you could escort a sinner who is trying to be an ass to the staff and you’re just like, “YEET!” And boom they are thrown away

You and Alastor definitely bond the most as you two got black tentacles. It’s just for Alastor it’s based on his powers when he uses his magic. But for you, it’s just your appearance as you use them to pierce your enemies. But mostly you use them when you are too bored to pick up objects with your hands

BIGGG headcannon that when slenderman do that static thingy, for you it clouds their vision and hearing as you make them pass out. Either to death or just to knock them out.

Lol I can imagine the whole creepypasta mansion going crazy while you drink tea like “this is fine” as you are in some other universe- 😭 crossover type shit

Like Drowned Ben is spam texting your phone like, “slender. slender. Help. Slendy. Octopus. Father. Help help.. help JeFF STABBED ME!”

And your tall ass is just sleeping as everything is going soooo peaceful in the hotel.

While we are at that, EJ definitely was using a book to try and to summon you with sally behind him hugging her teddy to see you again. Meanwhile Jeff was chasing Ben as he goes through a tv to hide from Jeff.

I imagine people in the hotel would hug you except for Alastor as he hates touch. But the people would dead ass hug you as one of your tentacles hold them.

You picked up angel, niffty , Charlie and Vaggie with your four tentacles as you read a book. It was a funny but cute sight as Charlie was like “:p” while the others had a cartoony ass expression or a blank one which is definitely Vaggie and husk

Adam and Lute definitely glanced at each other confused at what the fuck you were as you didn’t have a demonic or angelic aura. But you had some type of power in you. It was weird asf as you just stood there like “🧍🏾am I ugly?” They just kept staring at you

I can see you having the same expression as the picture above when you met pentious as you and Alastor was having tea just chilling with the hellish weather.

“Do you know that guy?” “I have no idea who that pest is my dear friend.” Alastor says with his usual smile as he hands you a cookie.

Just straight up tea times with Alastor is so peaceful as Alastor was kinda suspicious when you didn’t say anything if he ate a cannibalism meal. But I mean…slenderman! Reader is use to people being a cannibal.

The vees are definitely intrigued with who the hell you are and how powerful are you as you were the talk of pentagram city when you first came.

I headcannon a sinner tried to cut off your tentacles only to be grabbed by one of them and slammed to the ground. You just stood there and let static ring loudly in their head to the point it exploded.

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12daysofchristmas · 3 months ago

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Join us in the 2024 12 Days of Christmas Challenge as we hope to spread a little ✨holiday joy and cheer✨ through the magic of writing fanfiction & creating art!

About & Rules

The challenge will run from December 13-24, 2024.

The challenge is open to any and all fandoms.

Submissions must include at least one of the prompts for that day but can combine two, three, or all four.

Prompts for the day always include: a word/words, a scenario, a quote, a "famous" quote (taken from songs and movies)

Tag your submissions with #12daysofchristmas2024 and/or mention this blog so that we will be notified to reblog your submissions here. (Also, it would be super cool if you gave this blog a follow!)

Submissions for the day must be posted before midnight YOUR time. We're not super hard-and-fast about this rule, but posting within time is very much appreciated!

If you’re posting your submission directly on Tumblr (as opposed to linking to an external site such as AO3), you MUST use a “keep reading” cut!

Edit: We're now also allowing ALL KINDS OF ART: drawings, edits, aesthetics, mood boards, videos, podfics, fiber arts... go wild!

!! Absolutely NO AI creations !!

Please format ALL submissions with the following heading:

Title Day/Prompt(s) Fandom/Character(s)/Ship Warnings (if applicable): Word Count/Medium (in case it's art): Example: Santa, Baby Day 8 - “Prompt(s) for that day” AEW - Adam Page x OC Warnings: Alcohol, cursing, sexual situations (explicit) Word Count: 7,290 or: Medium: fan video

You can also include a summary, gif, edit, whatever you want! Just don’t forget the “keep reading” if you’re posting directly on Tumblr!

If you're posting on AO3, here's our collection: 12 Days of Christmas Collection

2024 Prompts

Day 1 ❄️ First snow ❄️ Getting soaked ❄️ “Your hands are so cold.” ❄️ “I suppose it all started with the snow.” —Frosty the Snowman

Day 2 ❄️ Little lie ❄️ Trapped together in a snowstorm ❄️ “I thought you knew where you were going?!” ❄️ “I don’t know what to say, but it’s Christmas, and we’re all in misery.” —National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation

Day 3 ❄️ Accelerated heartbeat ❄️ Kissing in the snow ❄️ “Here, take my coat.” ❄️ “Let's hope the snow will make this Christmas right.” —Queen

Day 4 ❄️ Mulled wine ❄️ Playing board games ❄️ “I have no regrets.” ❄️ “Cheer up, dude. It's Christmas.” —How the Grinch Stole Christmas, 2000

Day 5 ❄️ Cookies ❄️ Holiday-themed contest ❄️ “That definitely looks… interesting?” ❄️ “That is exactly why you want a high-quality fire extinguisher right in the kitchen.” —The Santa Clause

Day 6 ❄️ Present ❄️ Making a new Christmas tradition ❄️ “Not another Christmas movie!” ❄️ “You say you hate Washington’s birthday or Thanksgiving, and nobody cares, but you say you hate Christmas, and people treat you like you’re a leper.” —Gremlins

Day 7 ❄️ Decorations ❄️ A little accident ❄️ “I was just trying to help!” ❄️ “I want my house to be seen from space.” —Deck The Halls

Day 8 ❄️ Touch starved ❄️ Telling secrets around the fire ❄️ “Sometimes the hardest part is forgiving yourself.” ❄️ “Santa, can't you hear me?” —Ariana Grande & Kelly Clarkson

Day 9 ❄️ Christmas fair/market ❄️ Late shopping (together) ❄️ “Hmm, this is actually not bad.” ❄️ “When you're still waiting for the snow to fall, doesn't really feel like Christmas at all.” —Coldplay

Day 10 ❄️ Surprise visit ❄️ Lighting scented candles ❄️ “I didn’t know you were here.” ❄️ “You’re skipping Christmas! Isn’t that against the law?” —Christmas with the Kranks

Day 11 ❄️ Fairy lights ❄️ Christmas party/ball ❄️ “I never want this night to end.” ❄️ “I won’t even wish for snow. And I’m just gonna keep on waiting, underneath the mistletoe.” —Mariah Carey

Day 12 ❄️ Feast ❄️ Indoor picnic by the tree/fireplace ❄️ “I baked your favourite cookie/pie/cake.” ❄️ “You are all I need tonight underneath the Christmas lights.” —Sia

Extra Challenge

Angst or fluff, romance or platonic - you're unsure in what direction your fic should go? Spin our

Wheel

and let it decide for you! You can spin it once and write all fics with what comes up, you can spin it daily and change course accordingly, you can spin it as often as you need or not at all - it's all up to you.

Please don’t hesitate to contact us with any questions! Also, feel free to share this post and help spread the joy and cheer!

Happy writing, and good luck 🍀

#12daysofchristmas2024 #christmas writing challenge #christmas writing prompts #writing #challenge #christmas #christmas fanfiction #holiday fanfiction

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moonlightcycle571 · 4 months ago

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The Cons of being Omni-lingual

I made a post about the pros of being omni lingual. Did you really think I would make fluff without making any angst? *insert evil laugh*

As established, Cap can speak any language and knows what’s your Native tongue. Cool right? Wrong.

There’s a reason he hates speaking Themesquiran. Wonder Woman was NOT the first Amazonian he ever met. No, the first time he met one of the warrior women, it was when he was doing a sort of quest as part of his Champion duties where he met an Amazonian away from home. Seeing that she wasn’t affected by All Speak (a type of magic that lets magical or magical adjacent speak in accordance to their environment), he decides to speak Themesquiran. It does not go well. Gets insulted, accused of many things, immediate battle that he doesn’t want to be in. It’s all around not a good thing for him.

So no Diana, he will not be speaking that language, he knows it’s a trap (the last Amazonian said it was OK, but then threw an axe at his head out of reflex)

A very similar experience happened with the Valkery.

Another thing is the suspicion. Sure most of the time, it evaporates after you get to meet him, but it still hurts. What; you think Waller will think ✨magic✨ is a good enough explanation, and not try to pry into his life? Or try to exploit this other facette of him?

It gets especially rough when people don’t take it well. His a big buff white guy, so sometimes speaking more obscure language, or even any non European language, is at best seen as a parlour trick, at worst seen as an insult (how dare he defile our sacred language with his ‘dark arts’).

Another thing to note is that Billy started young. In some iterations, he started at age 8 and joins the JL at 10. So when he hears people curse him under their breath, or even to his face, in another language… he knows. He knows most people don’t think is human, and sometimes doesn’t treat him like one (it doesn’t hurt, really). He knows exactly what people say about him (be it his Cap form or Billy form). And maybe calling them out will make them worse. He’s already been called a freak enough times by his uncle and various foster families, he doesn’t need more

Maybe sometimes he would get captivated by languages long gone, and have access to tidbits of their history, but not have anyone to talk to about it. How many of the languages were forgotten and changed over time, and how many were forcibly destroyed? Would he mourn a civilisation he never knew? Was it even human? The day he found out one of his favourite obscure languages was Kryptonian, his powers opened up a bit, to see what the civilisation was like, and how it ended. He mourns in private and never tells a soul. Cap is not Kryptonian or ever been to Krypton, he has no right to openly mourn. If Supergirl noticed something different in her and Caps hang outs, she says nothing

The worst is when he forgets a word. It happens to everyone, and maybe he was in a place that makes magic glitch. It doesn’t matter. As soon as he finished the mission, he rushes back to the rock to make sure he knows EVERY language. He not forgetting, no, he refuses to forget any language. Especially since for a lot of them, he’s the only one that still remembers them (he may not know the context or culture, but at least he can keep something alive).

#billy batson #dc #dc captain marvel #shazam #supergirl #languages

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lizzyiii · 5 months ago

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His Lady Love (7)

pairing | aemond targaryen x vampire!mikaelson!reader

taglist | to be added to the tag list just add your username to this DOC

word count | 6,1k words

summary | you leave for the reach, angsty love confession, false rumors travel to king's landing.

tags | (MDNI), SMUT, unprotected sex (this is asoiaf so all sex is unprotected), p in v, death, heavy angst/NO COMFORT, vampire powers, heavy miscommunication

note | I'd be really interested in knowing if you guys made a name for the reader, in my head her name is Krystyna Mikaelson (yes, I googled norse names and chose my fav) So did anyone else read George R.R Martin's blog??? Anyway, I'm just here for Ewan, Olivia and Phia tbh. I was thinking that reader could be a witch. Like I know witches can't be vampires, but Siphoners can. Like just imagine her father was from a Gemini coven, and she doesn't know she has magic and since she's an original, she's her own power source, hence first heretic.

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

You had woven yourself into a web of deception, and now, the strands began to unravel. The Hand’s summons rang ominously in your ears, commanding you to escort Prince Jaehaerys to your so-called "home" in the Reach. Yet, the truth was far less straightforward; your true home lay not within the verdant fields of the Reach, nor did it belong to this mortal realm at all.

Time pressed against you—tonight, you would depart from Kings Landing. What could you possibly say to the watchful White Cloaks accompanying you? The question gnawed at you, demanding a rapid strategy as you struggled to quell your rising panic.

For the moment, the Hand had instructed you to gather only your essentials. As the hour of the wolf approached, you prepared to meet the call at the courtyard and bid a bittersweet farewell.

Your hands moved with urgency, tossing your cherished Mikaelson amulet into a trunk, alongside an array of simple dresses that would serve you for the arduous journey ahead. But amidst the flurry of preparation, the creaking of your chamber doors momentarily pierced through your focus. The air thickened with the unmistakable scent that sent a thrill down your spine, a presence you knew too well.

Stubbornly, you continued to pack, resolutely ignoring his entrance. You were a fool playing a game rigged against you—fostering feelings for a prince destined for a mortal being. Unlike your sister Rebekah, who pinned her affections upon every charming face, you fought against the tide of your own heart. Yet, in the shadows of your denial, an undeniable pull towards Aemond Targaryen had ensnared you, leaving you trapped in a whirlwind of desire and longing.

“I knew something would eventually go awry,” he murmured from the shadows, his tone laden with the weight of foresight.

You stubbornly continued to gather your belongings, your hands trembling ever so slightly. “I know not of what you speak,” you replied, defiance lacing your words like poison.

The atmosphere shifted as Aemond crossed the threshold, his presence a storm—intangible yet fierce. You felt the warmth radiating off him, enveloping you as he positioned himself behind you, the scent of dragonfire and leather filling your senses. “Whenever I find a fleeting moment of happiness, it is whisked away quicker than it appeared. The day I claimed Vhagar, and now, as I stand here with you,” his voice wavered, betraying an edge of vulnerability.

You clenched your jaw, a frown creasing your delicate features as an unbidden ache tightened around your heart. “I do not know how long I shall be gone,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Strong hands found your waist, pulling you into the warmth of his chest, a silent promise wrapped around you as he whispered, “It matters not; I shall await your return, no matter how long it may take.”

With a pained sigh, you turned to confront him, your eyes glistening with unspoken sorrow. “You shouldn't.”

Aemond's brow furrowed, confusion etched across his handsome face as he tightened his grip, unwilling to let you slip away. “Why would you utter such foolishness?”

Your insides twisted as you longed to lay bare the truth that lay heavy on your heart. A truth about your eternal curse—a vampire destined to walk the earth forever, but never to grow old alongside him, to bear him no heirs. Instead, you shook your head, you voice trembling as you whispered, “A prince cannot wed a bastard.”

His brow knitted deeper in perplexity. “What do you mean?”

“I am not my father's daughter,” you confessed, the words tasted bitter as they left your lips. “And that alone should be reason enough for you to forsake any thought of marrying me.”

The admission struck you like a blade, a noose tightening around your spirit. Aemond’s disdain for bastards echoed hauntingly in your mind—his vitriol directed at those he deemed unworthy. If claiming your own truth was the only path to forging a distance between the two of you, then so be it. You would bear the burden of his scorn, if it meant sparing him from the shadows that clung to your existence.

In a flicker of desperation, you realized the power you held—the gift of compulsion. You could erase every whispered promise and shared secret, rendering him a stranger to your existence. Yet, the thought pierced your heart like a dagger; to be forgotten was a torment worse than heartbreak. Aemond’s scorn would be a balm compared to losing him entirely, for you would rather endure his hatred than vanish from his memory.

Closing your eyes, you braced yourself for the inevitable scorn, the revulsion you feared would pour forth from his lips. Instead, you felt his hands, warm and tender, gripping your face with an intensity that stole your breath. “Look at me,” he urged, his voice a gentle command.

With reluctance, you opened her eyes, meeting his piercing violet gaze that seemed to see through to your very essence. "I do not care," he declared, as though his unwavering love could alone mend the fractures within your heart.

A tidal wave of anger surged through you—not directed at him, but ignited by the very depth of his relentless love. With a swift motion, you pushed him away, desperation fueling your words as they spilled forth like a torrent. “You should care! You must understand, Aemond— I am not good for you, and I am certainly not worthy of your love.”

Aemond’s frustration prickled in the air as he gestured animatedly, his brows knitting together as if you had unleashed a storm within him. “And who are you to declare yourself unworthy? Do you think Aegon worthy of the Iron Throne?”

You let out a derisive scoff, the incredulity igniting your tone. "Comparing me to Aegon? That is a completely different situation," you stressed, your words punctuated with defiance.

"I cannot fathom your urge to push me away," Aemond's voice rose, desperation lacing his every syllable. The calm mask he wore shattered, revealing the turmoil beneath. “Is it because you do not love me?”

The weight of his question struck you like a lightning bolt. You could feel the tears welling, and you felt the weight of your own heart as it threatened to overflow. Unconsciously, you yelled, “Of course I love you, Aemond! How could I not," The urgency in your voice rose, a plea wrapped in desperation. “But what you fail to grasp is—”

“You love me," All traces of anger evaporated from his expression; instead, a spark of something else ignited in his eyes as he latched onto your statement.

You faltered, momentarily confused. “What?”

“You love me,” he echoed, his voice rising with fervor, amplifying the truth hanging in the air like a spell.

With a scoff, you shook her head, trying to dismiss the revelation. “That is not the point of the matter, Aemond—”

“It is indeed the point,” he countered, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming as he reached out, cradling your face in his hands. “Because you love me, and I love you.”

A weary sigh escaped your lips, the weight of his insistence pressing down on you. “Aemond, you’re not hearing me.”

“I am,” he replied earnestly, his thumbs brushing softly against your cheek, “I hear you, and yet your heart speaks a truth that cannot be silenced: you love me.”

And as Aemond leaned closer, that fierce violet eye consuming your own, your defenses began to crumble. His lips brushed against yours, igniting a spark that uncoiled like wildfire within you. Resistance became a ghost, fading in the heat of your shared breath as your mouths melded together. Aemond's tongue slid past your lips, a tantalizing invasion, and you found herself yielding to the irresistible pull of desire, your essences intertwining in a dance as ancient as the realms you inhabited.

With each caress from his skilled hands, the world around you faded into oblivion, thoughts dispersing like ash in the wind. You clutched at his neck, your fingers tangling in his silver locks as you deepened your kiss, hungry for more. Aemond's grip roamed boldly across your form, igniting a fire beneath your skin that made your pulse quicken—a symphony of passion building between the two of you. You could feel the unmistakable hardness of his desire pressing against you, stirring a yearning that enveloped you.

As the kiss broke, your breaths mingled, thick with anticipation. Aemond trailed hot kisses along the delicate curve of your neck, his lips sending tremors through your body. A gasp escaped your lips as he scooped you up with effortless strength, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, your body fitting perfectly against his as he pressed you closer. Your bodies met, his erection unmistakable even through the barriers of your clothing, igniting a primal need that demanded resolution.

He carried you to the nearest table, as he laid you down, the cool surface contrasted with the heat emanating from your bodies. Aemond’s fingers deftly hiked up the hem of your dress, each inch sending electric thrills along your spine, leaving your breathless.

"Do you want this?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper yet filled with a primal urgency that stirred something deep within you, all of your hesitation gone.

With languid desire pooling in between your legs, you yielded, your desperation spilling over into your voice as you breathed, "Take me now, Aemond. I wish to feel you in me, even after I've departed."

His response to your words was immediate and animalistic, a predatory instinct awakened. A growl rumbled deep in his chest, words lost to the fervor that gripped him. Like a tempest unleashed, he tore away the delicate fabric that separated the two of you, casting it aside with a fervent urgency. His fingers deftly unfastened the laces of his trousers, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet room.

In an instant, he pulled you closer, your bodies colliding with an electric urgency. The tip of his cock grazed your slick heat, a tantalizing tease that sent ripples of desire coursing through your veins. With each passing moment, your body ached for him, the need swelling within you like a tide crashing against the shore.

“Please,” you breathed, your tone rich with longing, “I cannot wait any longer.”

Before you could utter another plea, Aemond surged forward, his curved tip breaking through the barrier of your softness. Moments stretched into eternity as he filled you, a divine sensation that stole your breath. It felt like fire and ice intertwined, the ecstasy consuming you both.

As you joined together, he leaned over you, your faces mere breaths apart. His lips found yours, capturing the essence of your fervent connection in a searing kiss that tasted of bloodlust and boundless craving.

You were not a creature of restraint, especially not in the heat of the moment. With a sly, vixen-like grace, you entwined her legs around Aemond's waist, ensnaring him effortlessly. The force of your pull sent him slamming into you, your bodies colliding with a fervor that made the very air sizzle with electric desire. Aemond groaned, a primal growl escaping his lips as he felt the intoxicating warmth envelop him completely; he was ensnared by you as if caught in a hunter's trap.

Your soft moans echoed like a siren's song, urging Aemond on as your lips trailed kisses down the cool expanse of his alabaster skin. Each kiss was deliberate; it was a tantalizing dance between temptation and control. Your fangs tingled with the hunger for his fiery dragon blood, simmering ever closer to the surface, but for now, you quelled that urge with sheer willpower.

Yet Aemond, with his predatory instincts ignited, began to thrust into you with a relentless rhythm, your flesh meeting with a damp slap that resonated through the great hall like a heartbeat as Aemond thrust himself into your cunt over and over. The air thickened with the sweet scent of lust, pleasure, and something darker that lingered in the wake of your intensity.

“When will you truly understand?” Aemond rasped, his breath quickening as he plunged into you with fervor. The rhythmic, wet sounds reverberated softly in the room, his hand finding its way to your most sensitive spot, teasing your clit with skilled flicks. “You were made for me, just as I was for you.”

Pleasure surged through your veins, overwhelming your senses as you murmured, “I love you.”

With deliberate movements, Aemond traced slow, firm circles on your pearl, lowering his body closer to yours as he whispered against your lips, “I love you.”

A soft whine escaped your lips as your body tightened around him, waves of ecstasy crashing over you in a blinding storm of sensation. Aemond was drawn to your peak, his own release spiraling just behind yours. He let out a deep groan, his essence spilling inside you as he collapsed against you, panting, entirely lost in the moment.

You felt Aemond's warm breath against your skin as he leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear. “Nuhon,” he murmured, his words carrying an electricity that entwined your very essence with his. (Mine)

For a fleeting moment, you tightened your grip on him, reluctant to sever the bond that pulsed between you. Yet, time was against you, and Aemond slowly withdrew himself, his gaze piercing into yours, leaving an ache in the space inside you. A soft gasp escaped your lips; the void he left behind felt cavernous, devoid of his heat, as you only felt emptiness.

Silently, you watched as he regained his composure, the delicate dance of his fingers deftly lacing his trousers. As he turned, casting his attentive eye around the chamber, he picked up a handkerchief with a gentle touch.

What followed was an act more intimate than what the two of you had just done—the careful way he wiped away the remnants of your shared passion felt surreal. Aemond's hands were gentle, almost reverent, as he smoothed your skirts back into place, making you feel cherished in a way that transcended the physical.

His hands found their home on your waist, solid yet gentle, your fingers instinctively wrapping around his shoulders. With a graceful lift, he eased you from the tabletop, setting you down on the cold stone floor. His gaze shifted downwards, landing on your stomach, and a wave of panic surged through you, yet you instinctively placed your hand over your stomach, wishing to shield it from his penetrating stare.

“You must drink moon tea before you depart,” he murmured, his voice laced with a trace of regret, as though he carried the weight of unspoken truths.

A harsh swallow caught in your throat. It was an empty act for you to do, as your womb lay barren, yet the implications of his words hung heavy in the air. You turned your gaze away from him, a flicker of vulnerability dancing across your features, and nodded nonetheless.

His hand, warm and reassuring, cupped your cheek, gently guiding your eyes back to his. "I shall fetch some for you. Wait here, I will return shortly."

Silently, you nodded, feeling the electrifying brush of his lips against yours in a fleeting kiss, a soft collision of breath that sent shivers through your being. It was a moment suspended in time, brief yet profound, leaving you yearning for more. But before you could fully savor it, he withdrew, leaving your chambers cloaked in the bittersweet essence of his absence.

You busied yourself, gathering the few belongings you possessed, when Aemond returned with striking swiftness. A sense of discomfort washed over you as you drank the vile tea, acutely aware of his watchful eye.

After a brief silence, you dared to glance up at him, a question dancing on your lips. "Do you intend to escort me to the courtyard?"

His gaze remained piercing, an unwavering ember in the flickering light. "Indeed," he replied with a hum that resonated between you.

A sigh escaped you as you reached for your trunk of belongings, but before you could grasp it, Aemond’s hand was there, lifting it away with a possessive ease. A small spark of frustration flickered within you, yet words eluded your lips as you and he made your way through the dim hallways toward the courtyard.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and palpable, each lost in private thoughts as you pushed open the grand doors leading into the courtyard. A sea of anxious faces greeted you, their attention fixed squarely on your arrival.

Shame washed over you as you realized you were the last to come forth, and with Aemond at your side, the scrutiny felt even more intensified. Yet, this was a moment that demanded courage. You squared your shoulders and set your gaze ahead, making your way toward Helaena.

Her eyes danced with sorrow as she stepped forward, cradling her sleeping son, and placing him tenderly into your arms. You held him protectively, your voice dropping to a fervent whisper. “I promise I shall protect him with my life.”

Helaena's expression softened, her hand gently caressing the boy’s delicate face before nodding in earnest agreement. As you turned, your gaze met Aegon’s, his watchful eyes drilling into you, fixated on the sleeping prince nestled securely in your embrace.

With a steadying breath, you made your way toward the carriage, but a hand on your shoulder halted your steps. You turned to find Alicent, her eyes reflecting a sadness that tugged at your heart. She offered you a tight smile, squeezing your shoulder in a gesture of support. “You’re performing a great service for the crown,” she said, her voice filled with sincerity. You could only nod in acknowledgment as she added softly, “Promise me you’ll look after yourself.”

“Of course, My Queen,” you murmured, tightening your hold on Jaehaerys, his warmth a comforting presence against your chest.

Her smile deepened, and she said, "I will pray for the safety of both you and Jaehaerys."

“Thank you, Queen Mother,” your heart swelled at her words, while you whispered the word 'mother' as if it was sacred.

As you stepped into the carriage, you turned once more, your gaze locking with Aemond’s, unspoken words hung heavy in the air between you. Just then, a white cloak swept to close the door, sealing you and the sleeping prince in an intimate cocoon of silence.

When Jaehaerys stirred awake, panic etched across his delicate features, his bright violet eyes wide with confusion, had required an abundance of soft whispers and lots of patience from you. With tenderness, you had reassured him, carefully explaining the necessity of his departure, a necessary measure for his safety.

“What of Jaehaera?” he inquired, his voice laced with anxiety as he searched your face for answers.

A frown tugged at your lips as you deliberated, knowing the harsh truth—that his life must take precedence, for he was the heir. Instead, you offered a gentle smile, fabricating a reassuring lie. “She is being taken somewhere else, my Prince.”

“And Shrykos?” the small prince pressed, his tiny hands fiddling with one of the lemon cakes hastily packed in by the Queen Dowager.

You gazed down at Jaehaerys, who nestled against your side, “Shrykos and Morghul will remain safe within the Dragonpit,” you whispered softly.

A deep sigh escaped him, a pout forming on his lips as he burrowed deeper into your embrace. “I've never been away from Mama or Jaehaera before..." he murmured, his small frame trembling with a mix of fear and longing.

Wrapping an arm around him, you tightened your hold, "Fear not, my prince. I will keep you safe. And soon, you will be reunited with them," you murmured.

You were suffocating in boredom. Two endless days cooped inside this rickety carriage left you feeling more drained than when you began. The road to Highgarden loomed ahead, a serpentine path promising nearly a month's worth of dreary travel. Restlessness gnawed at you, a specter whispering in your ear, as you devised a plan.

Murdering the three White Cloaks tasked with your escort was an appealing thought. Yes, it would be regrettable, but the crude vulgarities spilling from their lips, laced with the foulest lechery as they leered at you, twisted the notion into something almost justifiable.

Once the deed was done, once the lifeblood of those pompous guards stained the earth beneath you, you would take Jaehaerys and make your way back to King's Landing. You would craft a tale of treachery—how you were ambushed by Rhaenyra's sympathizers, forcing you to retreat and return.

As Jaehaerys slept peacefully beside you, his form curled like a contented cat, you decided now was the best time to act. With delicate care, you shifted him onto his back, ensuring he remained undisturbed. You then directed your attention to the partition that separated your lavish prison from the brutish guards beyond.

With a purposeful knock, you roused their attention, your senses heightened, attuned to the disgruntled murmurs that reached your ears as the carriage shuddered to a halt. The door swung open abruptly, revealing Ser Loren, his face taut with irritation, the kind one might expect of a man dragged from the warmth of the sun into the chill of night.

“What,” he snapped, brows furrowing with annoyance, the tone of a man used to being in command.

In response, you offered him an enchanting smile, sweet as nectar dripping from a ripe fruit, and raised a hand to cup his cheek. The confusion flitted across his features, but your grip was steadfast as you redirected his gaze to meet yours.

“Ser Loren,” you murmured, the subtle power of your compulsion thrumming through you like a siren's song. “I need you to slay your fellow guards for me.”

His eyes widened, the flicker of uncertainty sparking a thrill within you. Yet, you tightened your hold, your voice dropping to a velvety whisper as you compelled him anew. “Do not utter a word,” you commanded softly. “You will carry out my will without hesitation, and when that is done…you shall take your own life.”

“Now go,” you urged, the finality of your words binding him as surely as any ancient spell.

As he departed, you closed the door with a soft click and settled back beside the peacefully slumbering Jaehaerys, the anticipation coursing through you like a potent elixir. Through your enhanced hearing, you could make out Ser Loren’s hesitant movements as he drew his sword. The air was thick with tension as you tuned into the muffled voices of his comrades, their puzzled murmurs a prelude to chaos.

Then came the dreadful sound of steel meeting flesh, followed by the piercing screams of two men, echoing in stark contrast to the quiet of your carriage. The ritual continued—a whimper preceding yet another stinging strike of blade on flesh—until an oppressive silence fell, wrapping around you like a shroud.

Rising to your feet, you opened the door and stepped out into the chaos. The sight that met your eyes was macabre: the fallen guards lay sprawled upon the ground, their once-pristine white cloaks now marred with blood, a stark contrast to the pale of their skin. Only the soft whicker of the horses broke the stillness.

With a satisfied hum, you turned your attention back to the carriage, intent on retrieving Jaehaerys. By horseback, you would make your way back to King’s Landing. Slipping back inside, you knelt beside the sleeping prince, your heart sinking as you perceived an ominous shift in Jaehaerys.

Gently placing your hand against his brow, a frown twisted your features upon feeling his rising temperature. Panic bubbled within you as realization struck: the boy was burning with fever, likely the consequence of his first venture beyond the castle walls. His frail immune system was struggling against the onslaught of illness. Children, as you knew all too well, were vulnerable, and fevers could turn grave in the blink of an eye.

Time was of the essence; you needed to find safety for him, a sanctuary where he could heal swiftly.

With care, you gathered him into your arms, cocooning him in a soft blanket to protect his fragile form. Then, you climbed onto a horse with him nestled closely against you. Urging the steed forward, you set your sights on the nearest village, aware that King’s Landing would have to wait—your priority was the precious life cradled in your embrace.

What you were blissfully unaware of was how swiftly whispers of three slain white cloaks would flutter to the ear of King's Landing. Such is the nature of tidings that venture too far from their origin—truth, like shadows, warps in the light of rumor.

What reached the capital painted a grim picture: three white cloaks brutally cut down, their carriage reduced to cinders, with the lady and the prince within consumed by flames. Perhaps there lay some truth to this tale; after you'd fled with Prince Jaehaerys, desperate commoners stumbled upon your carriage, and in their frenzy, laid it to waste.

And so, that account flew to King's Landing with the swiftness of a raven on the wing.

"He's dead," Aegon breathed, his voice thick with disbelief, as he struggled to absorb the weight of the news. "He's dead!"

In a fit of rage, Aegon hurled a glass goblet against the stone wall, shattering it into a thousand shards, his fury echoing within the council chamber. "I’ll kill them all!"

He pounded the table with sufficient force that the goblets rattled, while the rest of the council sat in stunned silence, their eyes upon him. "This is war! I declare war! I declare war!" His voice rose, raw and strident.

With cheeks flushed and a face streaked with remnants of tears, Aegon turned to his Grandsire, his expression a tempest of anger and anguish. "This is your doing! All of this is your fault!"

Alicent, glancing nervously between her father and her son, sought to defuse the tension crackling in the air. "He did not kill Jaehaerys, Aegon," she insisted softly, her voice trembling with urgency.

"No! He merely sent him forth to meet his doom!" Aegon shouted, his despair morphing into a howling tempest.

Otto's gaze remained steady but weary as he leaned back in his seat, allowing a heavy sigh to escape him. "It was a miscalculation on my part."

"A miscalculation that cost my son's life!" Aegon's anguished cry reverberated through the chamber.

"And yet, no one was privy to Jaehaerys’ departure, which suggests treachery lies among us," Lord Larys Strong observed softly, his voice laced with a chilling certainty.

Aegon turned his gaze to the council, suspicion etching lines on his youthful face. "Then it could very well be any one of you!" He thrust a finger towards the council members, prowling behind the table as a predator.

“While Lord Larys raises a point of merit,” Otto continued, as Aegon sank heavily into the head chair, the weight of his grief palpable as tears fell freely down his cheeks, “Jaehaerys will do more for us now than a thousand knights in battle. You will have your war, Your Grace. But if you wait a short time, you may yet double your strength.”

"Mother," Aegon whispered, his voice a fragile wisp swirling in the air, laden with unshed sorrow and searching for comfort.

Alicent stepped closer, her hand settling gently on her son’s shoulder. "The Hand sets on a difficult path, my darling, but it, it might be the right one."

Otto, with an air of finality, declared, "Let us continue with the funeral procession for Jaehaerys. He shall be honored with a grand casket, and riding behind it, the Queen, and with her, the Queen Dowager."

Alicent shook her head in disagreement. "No, I no longer wish for it to become some grand spectacle."

“The realm must see the sorrow of the crown,” Otto asserted, his tone brooking no argument, “a sorrow best expressed through its most gentle souls.”

Casting one last mournful glance at her son, Alicent firmed her resolve. “I think you’ll all agree the king himself must be spared.”

“No. No. It cannot be true,” Helaena whispered, her voice barely above a breath, as she shook her head in disbelief. Alicent stepped forward, the weight of the grim tidings looming over her like a storm cloud, heavy with sorrow.

“The carriage… it was consumed by flames,” Alicent spoke, her voice trembling with the pain of the knowledge she bore.

Helaena’s denial tightened its grip on her heart; she paced restlessly, the fabric of her gown whispering against the stone floor. “She promised me,” Memories of warm embraces and gentle reassurances echoed in her mind, each one a testament to the promise that now lay shattered, “She swore she would protect him.”

“Helaena—” Alicent's hand reached out, a mother’s instinct to comfort surging forth.

Yet Helaena recoiled from the touch, wrestling her emotions. “They are alive, I can feel it,” she insisted, the desperation in her voice soaring.

“There were no survivors,” Alicent replied, her tone heavy with the weight of acceptance, an acceptance that felt like betrayal.

Helaena’s eyes glistened with tears as she twisted her fingers together, seeking solace in their familiar dance. Alicent took a deep breath, gathering herself before adding, “The funeral for Jaehaerys will go on as planned, and… we’ve been asked to ride on a wagon throughout the city.”

With a swift turn, Helaena faced away from her mother, leaning against a sturdy timber beam that framed her bed. “I don’t want to,” she murmured, her voice defiant yet frayed.

Alicent’s expression twisted with empathy; she understood her daughter’s pain all too well. “Neither do I,” she admitted, her heart heavy with the weight of duty. “But when a thing like this happens… a blow to the king is a blow to the realm. When the people share our grief, they draw closer to us.”

“I don’t want them closer,” Helaena shot back, “I don't know them.”

“Sometimes, we have to pretend,” Alicent whispered.

Defiance shattered, the tears Helaena had valiantly held at bay now cascaded down her cheeks. The truth settled in her chest like a stone. “Why?” she questioned, her voice choked with pain.

Alicent stepped closer, “We are representatives of the throne. We have a duty,” she reaffirmed.

Helaena offered no reply, her silence a testament to her grief. Instead, she turned away, allowing her tears to flow freely as she braced herself to mourn not only the loss of her son but the fading light of her dearest friend.

You were dead.

Those haunting words echoed relentlessly in Aemond's mind, a cruel mantra he could not shake off. You were gone, and he would never again behold your celestial beauty, nor bask in the warmth of your radiant smile. The soft comfort of your embrace, which had always been his sanctuary, was lost to him forever. You were gone, and with that, the future he had imagined—a life entwined with yours, filled with laughter, children, and the tender joys of family—vanished into the ether.

He knew he should have fought against the tides of fate, should have raised his voice and insisted on accompanying you to The Reach. But in that fateful moment, he had faltered, and now the price was your death.

The one soul who had loved him unconditionally—perhaps the only soul that ever had.

In the throes of despair, he had ravaged his own chambers in a storm of sorrow, crashing furniture and shattering glass. Yet, even amidst the chaos, he found no solace. Driven by a desperation he could hardly understand, he stumbled to your chambers, longing to find you smiling, blissfully unaware of his turmoil.

But the truth awaited him there, stark and unforgiving: your room stood as a mausoleum, empty and frigid, a world devoid of the warmth you once brought. A wretched reminder lingered in the air, a bittersweet trace of your scent that was now inseparable from his suffering.

And so, in his agony, he lay upon your bed, a canvas of despair draped in the remnants of your essence. He curled around your pillow, desperately inhaling the lingering fragrance of you, each breath a silent prayer for your return as tears slipped from his eyes, tracing paths down his cheeks.

There was a desperate thought that flirted with the edges of his grief—perhaps he should end it all, surrender to the oblivion that beckoned. In that darkness, he imagined a reunion with you, a sweet escape from the relentless pain of war and dread. Yet even in his muddled sorrow, a flicker of sanity held him back, urging him to cling to the slivers of his own existence, the remnants of a life that felt achingly incomplete without you.

Even if he were to shatter this fragile existence, he knew deep down that he would not be reunited with you; heaven would welcome your pure soul, while he would drown in the torment of hell's grasp.

Shame twisted in his gut as he found himself in the Blue Pearl, entwined with a woman who was not you. The very same woman who had robbed him of his innocence so many years ago, the one who had snuffed out the last vestiges of his untainted childhood.

"The love of my life is dead," Aemond murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper against Madam Sylvi's soft, perfumed skin. He was acutely aware of the hollowness inside him, a well from which no more tears could flow.

"You are still young, my prince. There will be many more to come," Sylvi cooed, her voice a melodic attempt to soothe his anguish. But her words only ignited a flicker of anger within him. How could she presume to understand? How could she speak of future loves when in his heart, there was only room for you?

"The last time I laid eyes on her, she told me she loved me," he said, squeezing his eyes shut as if he could summon forth that cherished moment. "I was the happiest I had ever been. And yet, how swiftly that joy was cruelly ripped away."

"Daemon sent them to kill me," he continued, his tone darkening with the weight of truth. "I was out."

"You were here," Sylvi stated.

"In truth, I am proud… that he considers me such a foe," Aemond confessed, a grim satisfaction threading through his grief. "And that he seeks to murder me in my bed—he fears me. His actions have borne my lady love’s tragic end, and he will answer for it."

"As well he should," Sylvi replied, her gaze intense. "The boy is grown into a man." She leaned closer, her lips hovering tantalizingly close to his.

"Mm. No. Not here," Aemond said with a frown, his body recoiling from her advances. Disgust flooded through him as he shifted away from her, seeking refuge on her thighs, though his thoughts were elsewhere. The brothel faded into the background as memories of you flooded his mind—your laughter, your warmth, the connection that ignited his very soul.

(I love making these vids)

Names that are in bold are ones that couldn't be added :(

@barnes70stark @izabell26 @anyisaravia2001 @urdeftonesgrrrl @helo1281917 @strangefunthornqueen @ellie-xOxo @hueanhdang @elenapri0502 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @caged-birdies-blog @darktrashsoulbear @lenavonswartzschild @writtenbyhollywood @gl4ssw1ngp1xy @goddesslilithmoriarty @sunset18rose @filmflux @ln8118 @esposadomd @sara-grimes-yess @littybeech @gyneve @https-kokomi @void21 @yariany02 @baby-w3-ar3-infinite @baby-i-can-see-your-reylo @niktwazny303 @missyviolet123 @caribbeangal @ggukiespace @levimaids @Lokisgoddessofpower @anakilusmos @spacexdrago @strawberymilktea @snowtargaryen @fiction-fanfic-reader @feelingfaye @sxlsvv

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #house of the dragon #aemond x you #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #hotd #hotd fanfic #mikaelson #vampire!reader #the originals #ewan mitchell

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maluustrawberry · 6 months ago

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I wanted to make a request about what it would be like Bunnymund (ROTG) to fall in love with Reader who is the Guardian of Spring ❤️

Bunnymund X Guardian of Spring Reader. (Headcanons)

A/N: I thought this request was really cute, WHY IS HE SO HOT??!!! He was my childhood crush. I hope you like this Headcanon, I made it with great care.

-•❥❥• Spring and Easter had always worked together, so it was obvious that he knew you and admired your work. You never actually spoke to each other, but there were times when he watched you from afar, always surrounded by the animals you had awakened at the beginning of spring. The first impression you made was that you were very gentle, delicate and shy.

-•❥❥• He was surprised when you were chosen as guardian by the man in the moon. Being skeptical, at first he doubted whether you would really be able to protect The children from Pitch Black, because you had such a delicate and shy manner.

-•❥❥• The two of you became closer when you became guardian. Bunnymund didn't want to admit it, but he loved being around you because of your presence, always bringing calm.

-•❥❥• It was after a few years that he realized he was in love with you, when he was staring at you for too long, and admired how cute it was when butterflies landed on the flowers in your hair.

-•❥❥• One day, North caught him looking at you absent-mindedly and made fun of him for several months.

-•❥❥• He's very protective and loves to defend you by always standing next to you or behind, even though he knows you're powerful and can defend yourself.

-•❥❥• Often, when Bunnymund least expected it, he found himself very vulnerable in your hands when you paid too much attention to him. Because of your touch, he could become so vulnerable that he was almost submissive to you, almost desperate to be the only thing you saw at that moment.

-•❥❥• He likes to take you to flowery places that make Easter much more magical and colorful, especially because of your presence. And of course your meetings were in his den and painting Easter eggs.

-•❥❥• You know about the little feud between Bunnymund and Jack Frost, he gets jealous when Jack gets too close to you, and the winter spirit knows this and does it on purpose to provoke him.

-•❥❥• To calm him down from his constant jealousy, you would stroke behind his big ears or just give his muzzle a little touch. This quickly calmed him down, as it's the rabbit's most sensitive spot, almost like a drug... maybe even causing him more than that.

-•❥❥• When he confessed his love for you, he was completely nervous. He invited you to a flowery glade, almost enchanted by the beauty of the place and all the nature around. He knelt down humbly and took one of your hands, looking at you as if you were his goddess. That moment was overly dramatic because of his lack of knowledge about love or being in love, so he did it out of "common sense", but he really had no idea what he was doing at the time, almost like a desperate improvisation. He has trouble with very complex words all of a sudden, but, with his courage, he says everything he feels while looking at you with his piercing green eyes.

-•❥❥• He likes to call you by nicknames (my flower, my sweetheart, lovebug, cutie, darling... and of course, in hot times, he likes to call you "My bunny" or "Baby bunny").

-•❥❥• You can bet that in this relationship you would eat a lot of chocolate.

(I love those scenes when he turns into a little bunny OMG!!!😭💕✨🐰)

#bunnymund #bunnymund x reader #dreamworks animation #fanfiction #rotg x reader #rotg jack frost #rotg fandom #the rise of the guardians #rise of the guardians #rotg #pitch black x reader #pitch black #jack frost x reader #jack frost #easter bunny #Easter bunnymund

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enha-doodles · 9 months ago

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Heyya I love your works 💗💗 and I was wondering if u u could do Slytherin boys reacting to the reader being a muggleborn 🥹

Classic yk🕺🏻🕺🏻

SLYTHERIN GUY'S REACTION TO YOU BEING A MUGGLEBORN | ✧⁺。

Pairing : (Mattheo , Tom , Theodore , Lorenzo , Draco) x muggleborn!reader

Note : tysm bestie 🤪🤪✨ also that is such a classic request !!!

Warnings : mentions of fighting , toxicness in Tom's (I mean?)

MATTHEO RIDDLE

Yes , he's got this thing against Muggle-borns, but if it's you, he's willing to put on his big boy pants and overlook it. But don't you dare insult his girl's blood status, or else you'll witness a show even Voldemort himself would be proud of! Picture it: a bunch of Slytherin wannabes start spouting nonsense about you not being worthy of Mattheo because he's the Dark Lord's spawn, and well you're just a stupid mudblood.

That sets Mattheo off like a firecracker! He goes all Hulk mode, smashing and bashing until they're all groveling at his feet. "Stay in your fucking place, you piece of shit, or else you won't live to tell the tale of Voldemort's son representing the Dark Lord himself!" He's a total hotie in fight mode btw

TOM RIDDLE

Now, Tom's got issues. He's got this whole orphanage baggage weighing him down, but deep down, he's just a lovesick puppy because he never received any. Sure, he hates the whole blood status talk, but he loves you more than he hates it. And merlin, does he have a way of showing it! He'll dominate and control like it's his daily job, but common, it's all out of love, right? And if anyone dares to even look at you funny, bam! It's going to be a hex city, and guess whose the population ? them.

But if you try to disobey or disrespect him he won't hesitate to return to his true self , he'd grab your chin harshly and menacingly whisper, "You're just a filthy mudblood, know your place. Here, God isn't your lord. I am."

THEODORE NOTT

hmm, Theodore, the rebel with a cause. He's not like his father , nothing like him at all and he constantly wants to prove it , this is just one of those things that help him show you and others that he's different.He couldn't care less about blood status drama. Nope, if he loves you, he loves ALL of you, flaws and all.

He'd threaten everyone around that you're his girl and if anyone says anything to you or if they try to hurt you then they'd be found dead before they can say sorry . "Get this in your stupid ass head, you dick - you mess with her, you mess with me and remember I don't pull bunnies out of a hat ."

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

Lorenzo's like that curious cat who just can't resist poking his nose into everything. Muggle stuff? Fascinating! Like Theodore he wouldn't mind . He'd actually ask more about how it's there and all the technology intrigues him but he'd still be on about how magic is better . He would support you all the time and try to indulge in stuff to make you feel better .

Would threaten his friends to be mindful of their words around you because you're very dear to him and he wouldn't mind a punch to two if it means you're protected "Hey hey hey , watch it or I won't!"

DRACO MALFOY

Draco, return of the drama queen of Slytherin lmao . He'll start off all high and mighty, spouting hurtful things left, right, and center. But when reality hits and you stop talking to him , he realizes he's messed up, cue the banging at your door , sputtering out apologies and the gifts galore - rich boy lowkey buying his way out but you can't complain because he's got all your favourite stuff .

Draco would kinda joke to lighten the mood "God, I love you, but my father cannot hear about this." Classic Draco, am I right?

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　　　。

TAGLIST : @sugarcandydoll @helendeath

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harrywavycurly · 6 months ago

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YES TO A PART 2 PLEASE!!!

Hiii babes!!! So happy y’all wanted a part 2! So here it is and I hope y’all enjoy💖

A/N: if y’all want more updates on these two let me know because I lowkey love them so much✨

-find all things Lonely here✨

Tag List: @blckburd @fangirl509east @ell0ra-br3kk3r

Summary: You’re ready to talk to Harry but are you ready to hear what he has to say? Aka you tell Harry how you feel and he asks you to marry him…again✨

Harry cant help the smile that takes over his face as he sees you walk into his living room. His eyes glance down to your left hand and he’s pleased to see you still have on the gold band he slid onto your ring finger in your backyard a little over twenty four hours ago. He makes a move to get up from his spot on the couch but you quickly put a hand up making him raise an eyebrow as he pauses his movements. He watches as you let out a deep breath before finally making eye contact with him and his feels his smile morph into a slight frown when he sees the sadness that’s written all over your face. Your eyes are red and the tip of your nose is pink and if he was standing closer to you he knows he’d hear you sniffling letting him know you were crying not too long ago.

“You can’t marry me Harry.” He hates how your voice sounds shaky as your eyes go from looking at him to down to your shoes. “You deserve to be with someone you’re already in love with and not someone you just hope one day you’ll wake up and magically be in love with.” He stands up and ignores your warning glare when he sees your hand start to grab at the ring on your left hand trying to slip it off.

“I love you.” His words make you want to let out a sob as he takes your hands in his and ducks his head down so you have no choice but to look at him. “I know it’s not the same as being in love okay? But I also know that I’ve never allowed myself to think about you in any other way than as a friend because I knew from that very first night when we met all those years ago that I needed you in my life and I know that feelings and friendships don’t usually mix well.” You feel his warm hands give yours a gentle squeeze as he brings them up to his lips.

“I just couldn’t risk losing you so I never let myself see you as anything other than my bestfriend.” His lips are soft against the skin of your knuckles, he hears you let out a small sigh as your shoulders relax a bit. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t. I already know the moment I let myself actually see you as someone that’s not just my bestfriend but as someone I’m allowed to be in love with my life is going to change forever but I can’t take that leap unless you’re taking it with me.” He can’t help but feel his heart begin to beat faster as he watches his words fully register with you. He feels his heart drop to his stomach when you just shake your head and close your eyes as an attempt to avoid his intense stare.

“I already took the leap Harry.” He raises an eyebrow as you turn your head and open your eyes, you know if you look at him he will make you crumble and you can’t, not yet at least not until you tell him the truth. “I’ve been in love with you for so long that I can’t remember a time where I just loved you as my bestfriend.” Harry hasn’t ever wished he could change how he feels about someone more than he does in this moment, he wishes so badly he could tell you he’s in love with you too but he just can’t and you know it. “So I can’t do this, I’m sorry.” Your words come out like a whisper as you slide your hands out of his.

You try to turn and make your way to his front door but Harry knows you so he anticipates your escape attempt so he is quick to grab your hand before you can even try. You make a small squeaking sound of surprise when you feel him tug at your hand bringing you closer to him and when you look up at him and see a playful glare in his eyes as he just lets out a frustrated sigh and shakes his head you know he’s not upset but more so just annoyed and you don’t understand why until he starts to speak.

“You always have to beat me at everything don’t you?” You can’t help but shrug as a small chuckle escapes his lips causing the energy in the room to shift from sad and borderline heartbreaking to more optimistic and comfortable. “Can’t even let me try to fall in love with you first you have to go and admit that you’ve loved me for a while now and then in the same breath you want to tell me you can’t do this?” He gives your hand another tug bringing you even closer to him making you have to brace yourself with your free hand so you don’t crash into his chest as he looks down at you with a pout you know isn’t genuine because the way the corners of his mouth twitch in an attempt to hold back his smile. “I don’t think so sweetheart.”

“Harry I-”

“Just let me catch up to you love.” He closes his eyes as he leans down and rests his forehead against yours. You can feel how desperately he wants you to give him a chance. “I just need some time to catch up to you that’s all, you have a bit of a head start so just give me a little time please?” You interlock your fingers with his in the hand that he’s holding, this little sign of affection makes him smile as he opens his eyes and stands up a bit straighter.

“What if you never feel the same? Will you tell me?” He just nods as he brings your hand to rest on his chest right where his heart is. “Good so then I’ll be able to divorce you and take half of everything and move to Italy.” He rolls his eyes the moment you mention Italy.

“You’d never move to Italy without me.”

“I totally would if I was divorcing you because you realized you can’t ever love me the way I love you.”

“So you’d take half of everything and you’d take Italy from me?” You just nod as Harry lets out a scoff as he gives your hand a squeeze. “That’s just cruel love.” He brings your hand up to his lips and gives your knuckles a little kiss before he lets it go allowing him to use both hands to cup the sides of your face. “You won’t have to divorce me though.” His voice is soothing as his thumbs gently run across your cheekbones and you know you look a mess with your red eyes and puffy face from crying but Harry doesn’t care.

“How can you be so sure?” You need him to explain it to you, to make you understand why he’s so confident in his decision that you should be his wife. Your question just makes him grin as he leans down and places a quick kiss to your forehead making your knees want to give out.

“Because how could I not fall in love with you? For starters I feel like it is my duty to remind you how beautiful you are because I could literally stand here all day and explain to you exactly why I find you so stunning but I also know you hate that sort of thing so we will just move on.” Harry shoots you a playful wink but you know him enough to know he means it, if you wanted him to he’d stand there and give you a detailed explanation on why he finds you so beautiful because he’s done it once before when the two of you were drunk and you called yourself ugly and he wasn’t having it.

“You’re funny and you even find me funny at times which is a huge boost to my ego every time you laugh at one of my horrible dad jokes. You’re so smart and I love the way your mind works because you see things in a way that I don’t which is why we make such a great team. You challenge me constantly. You tell me when I’m being an idiot which is often and you allow me to make my own mistakes but you always let me know you’re going to be there when it falls apart.” You lean into his touch as he talks and you feel your cheeks get warm as he looks at you with such intensity you want to look away but you don’t, you know he’s saying these things to you because he desperately needs you to believe him when he says he can love you the way you love him.

“I think the love has been there this whole time I just refused to see it because I didn’t want to lose you.” He breaks the eye contact and drops his hands from your face as he tilts his head upward and looks towards his ceiling as he lets out a deep breath before you watch him look back down at you while taking a few steps backwards. “Now I’m going to do this one more time and honestly if you tell me no I’m never doing it again so no pressure but the future of the Styles name is sort of resting on your lovely shoulders.” You want to roll your eyes and make a joke but you can’t, all you can do is stare at him as he quickly reaches into his back pocket for something before he drops down to one knee for the second time right in front of you.

“I know how to make you happy and I know how to make you laugh. I also know exactly which buttons to press to make you want to smother me in my sleep while I’m taking a nap on the couch, I know this seems crazy but if you think about it we’ve kinda been dating for the last ten years and we have everything two people need in order to have a very happy and healthy marriage.” You smile and give him a small but encouraging nod as he reaches for your left hand.

“We have the foundation of over a decade long friendship and we have respect and for the most part we don’t judge each other even though I know you sometimes send photos of my outfits to Niall and you two talk shit but that’s okay because I sometimes talk to Mitch about the things you would tell me about all your tinder hook ups.” He watches in amusement as your eyes go slightly wide at his confession and before you can say anything your attention is brought back to your ring finger as Harry starts to slowly slide off the gold band. “But most importantly we trust each other and we’d never do anything to hurt one another and also it doesn’t hurt I quite like how you look nak-”

“I will say no right now if you bring up how I look naked in the middle of your second marriage proposal.” Your voice is teasing but Harry doesn’t want to risk it so he just nods as the gold band is now off your ring finger and you don’t even know how he does it because it’s so quick but he manages to switch it with a ring that you know you’ve seen before but you just can’t quite remember where.

“It was my Nan’s but you’ve probably seen my sister wearing it but after an intense evening of negotiating I managed to get her to agree to give it to me.” You feel your eyes get that familiar sting to them as he slips the ring on your finger. “I hope you don’t mind Gemma as a name for our first born child because that was one of the conditions as well as letting her be my best woman at the wedding but the main condition she had for giving me this ring was,” Harry smiles at how well the ring fits you and how good it looks on your finger before he looks up at you, and that’s when you feel the first few tears roll down your cheeks because he’s looking at you almost as if it’s the first time and you watch as his smile grows and his eyes light up. “You had to be the one wearing it.” You look from Harry’s eyes down to the ring and then back to him as you feel your heart begin to race as you prepare for him to ask you the question this has all be leading up to.

“Will you please marry me and allow me to prove to you just how easy it’ll be for me to love you for the rest of my life?” Harry watches with a hopeful smile as a few more tears roll down your cheeks and when you just nod your head he feels as if the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders as he lets out a deep sigh of relief but to your surprise he doesn’t move he just stares at you for a moment. “I really need to hear you say it. Please.” You’ve never been one to deny him especially when he asks so nicely.

“Yes Harry I’ll marry you.” His smile turns into a grin that makes his dimples pop out and the corners of his eyes crinkle as he finally stands up and wraps his arms around your shoulders pulling you into his chest.

“Thank god.” You let out a giggle as he mumbles into the top of your head while your arms wrap around his middle so you can press your cheek against the soft material of his shirt. The two of you stay like that for a moment, just enjoying the feeling of being wrapped up in each other’s arms.

Harry is the one to break away from the embrace but just enough so he can look down at you with a quirked brow. “Would it be weird if we kissed? I know we’ve kissed a handful of times before and it wasn’t weird but is it different now? Or-” His words get cut off by you pressing your lips to his in a very rushed kiss but one that still makes him smile when you pull away.

“It is different now but it’s not a weird different.” You explain and Harry just licks his lips as he nods his head and before you can say anything else his lips are on yours but this time the kiss isn’t rushed and it feels like how kissing someone you just got engaged to is supposed to be, soft and sweet leaving you both with grins on your faces when he pulls away.

“So does next week work for you to get married?” You roll your eyes at him and ignore his question as you rest your head back on his chest.

“God we have to like actually plan a wedding now.”Harry laughs as you let out a groan and he knows you’re making a mental checklist of all the things that need to get done. “Where are we going to live?” He looks down at you and offers you a casual shrug making you roll your eyes at him yet again.

“We can live here if you’re comfortable with that? Or if you want we can look at some houses and find something that feels like it’s more us so you don’t feel like you’re moving into my house? Because no offense lovey but your house isn’t an option you have two bedrooms and one of them is the size of the closet I just have for my shoes and accessories.” You ignore his rude statement about the size of your house and smile at the idea of finding a place that feels like it’s just for the two of you rather than you moving into his house that he’s had for years and has seen a few other woman move in and out of it.

“Okay I like the idea of us finding a place together.” He just nods as his hands begin running up and down your back. “Who’s going to be your first call?” You know his answer but you want to hear him say it anyway.

“My mum so she can get all her ugly crying out of the way and I’m sure I’m going to have to talk her out of booking a flight out here and try to tell her to save it for the engagement party or something but we both know she doesn’t listen to me half the time so she’s more than likely going to ring my doorbell in a few days.” You laugh as he rambles on about his mom and you know even though his tone is teasing that he adores his mother and he’ll be a big teary eyed mess the moment she wraps her arms around him when she arrives.

“Mine is Niall because-”

“Niall Horan? That’s the first person you’re telling about our engagement? Really?”

“Yes because if he finds out through someone else it’ll just wreck him, you know he’s sensitive and besides I need him to get the big brother type conversation with you out of the way as soon as possible.” Harry rolls his eyes at the idea of Niall trying to have a brotherly conversation with him but he knows Niall has always been like a protective older brother to you and he’s been there for you at times Harry couldn’t so he’ll let Niall say whatever it is he needs to say and be done with it.

“You know he’s going to be a mess right? He’s going to cry and be all dramatic-”

“You’re one to talk about being dramatic Harry when you’ve literally proposed to me twice now.”

“I wouldn’t have had to do it twice if you would’ve just said yes the first time.”

“Someone has to keep you humble.” You feel Harry’s chest vibrate as he laughs making you smile, his laugh has always been one of your favorite sounds.

“And you do such a good job at it sweetheart.” You give him a little squeeze as he rests his cheek on top of your head. You feel your body start to relax as you look down at the ring on your finger. It’s a beautiful reminder that Harry Styles, your bestfriend for over ten years really did ask you to marry him and you really said yes because you love him and you believe him when he tells you that if you give him some time he will love you in the exact same way.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #Harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles drabble #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x bestfriend!reader #harry styles au #friends to lovers #famous!harry #one direction fanfiction #one direction fluff #harry styles angst

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sudokuplayer · 4 days ago

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I agree with you about the ridiculous book titles but I don't think the ones you mention are so great. Like what's so good about them👀

hiii 👋🏻 I apologize for this long answer. This is so serious for me lol I could talk about it for hours.

I think Giovanni's Room is a perfect title. As I said, it's short and evocative, and I think it's also mysterious but not that mysterious. You don't know what's up with the room in question but you can gather, for example, that this guy Giovanni is Italian, otherwise the name would be John or something, so for sure his Italian identity will be relevant. You have to assume there’s intention behind something as significant as a main character’s name. Also, and more importantly, there's no last name attached to Giovanni so it suggests intimacy—being on a first name basis. It lets you know that whoever tells the story is close to Giovanni; for sure close enough to have been inside his room. Name and last name creates a sense of distance and formality, or it suggests the person is 'important' or special; preternatural like Dorian Gray, famous like that woman Evelyn Hugo (probably, I haven't read it). But just ✨Giovanni✨ ... you can tell it's going to be a first person account of the events by someone who knows Giovanni very intimately. But obviously I’ve already read it and my interpretation is biased. Nothing about the title guarantees it'll be a first person account. This is just what I mean by evocative; it makes me theorize and read into it.

Now, just Giovanni, like Emma or Carrie or Rebecca, wouldn't work because—and this you find out once you read the novel but the title is already telling you—the room is the main character; it's the metaphor. But I wanted to mention those single name titles just to say I don't like them lol. I get them but I think they don't really work nowadays. A recent example I can think of is Eileen. Crickets, right? Eileen by Ottessa Moshfegh. It's a good novel though.

And I also don't like "[Name] [Last Name]" titles very much: - Anna Karenina - Jane Eyre - David Copperfield - Oliver Twist

As I said, full names give a sense of distance (imo!), BUT those I mentioned make sense because the novels span the lifetime of the character. Of course the title of a person's life should be their name, and at least it's not something like The Unbelievable Life of David Copperfield, which would be so silly. I think full name titles had their time too. Just Evelyn Hugo would be crickets but it doesn't mean its original title is any better lol

Giovanni's Room is perfect because I think "[Name]’s [Noun]" is a good title formula: - Charlotte’s Web - Ender’s Game - Sophie’s Choice

Adding an adjective to any of these would truly fuck them up. Imagine if it was Giovanni's Mysterious Room… flop! It was already mysterious. Or Giovanni's Peculiar Room, also a flop and an awful sounding adjective.

You have to be very particular about the adjective to make "[Name]’s [Adjective] [Noun]" work. Howl's Moving Castle is a perfect example of a good one because it could have been something like Howl's Magical Castle, right? But that sounds basic. The chosen adjective, Moving, couldn't be more perfect.

The other title I mentioned in my post is The Bell Jar. Just picture a bell jar; something so delicate that can trap or protect or display or contain. You can already tell the metaphor game is going to be strong. Also, its formula is my favorite ever: "The [Noun]": - The Trial - The Metamorphosis - The Waves - The Tunnel - The Goldfinch

This formula is serious business for me. I think it's perfect. Short and so sure of itself. They demand to be taken seriously. I see them and I feel reassured that the author is confident and clear about their work.

"The [Adjective] [Noun]" is good too but it really has to need that adjective: - The Virgin Suicides - The Savage Detectives

I love "[Adjective] [Noun]" — Short yet compelling. Just two words so you can have them tattooed on the back of you ankles or something: - White Teeth - Wuthering Heights - Sharp Objects - Invisible Monsters (Chuck Palahnuik’s titles are always a hit with me. Short and straightforward; they come across as very cool and crude, Fight Club, Choke, Snuff, and then he delivers cool and crude. The 3 titles below are by authors with a similar vibe to Palahnuik, and look at those titles… chef's kiss) - Exquisite Corpse - American Psycho - Mysterious Skin

I also love "[Noun] and [Noun]" — To contrast, to compare, to complement each other, whatever it is it's always a hit. The alliteration in both Jane Austen's titles is more poetic than whatever long wordy title you can think of: - Pride and Prejudice - Sense and Sensibility - War and Peace - Sons and Lovers - Crime and Punishment

❌ Now, the ones I consider flops no matter what. The long “creative” ones that come across as eager and insecure and make me roll my eyes.

Anything that tries to sound like The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Also these wretched formulas:

"The [Adjective] [Noun] of [Fuckass Name + Last Name]": - The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry - The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo - The Secret Life of Walter Mitty - The Curious Case of Benjamin Button - The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August - The Strange and Beautiful Sorrows of Ava Lavender (Two adjectives! Get out of here!)

"A [Noun] of a [Noun] and a [Noun]": - A Song of Ice and Fire - A Court of Thorns and Roses - A Book of Spirits and Thieves

"The [Person’s Job/Occupation] [Relative]" — The relative is usually a wife or a daughter: - The Surgeon's Daughter - The Time Traveler's Wife - The Zookeeper's Wife - The Shopkeeper's Daughter

"All The + [Some Bullshit]": - All the Bright Places - All the Light We Cannot See - All the Dangerous Things - All the Colors of the Dark

"Where the + [Some Bullshit]": - Where the Crawdads Sing - Where the Red Fern Grows - Where the Dead Sit Talking

"This Is How + [Some Bullshit]": - This Is How You Lose the Time War - This Is How It Always Is - This is How You Lose Her

"We Are All + [Some Bullshit]": - We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves - We Are All the Same in the Dark - We Are All Birds of Uganda - We Are All Made of Molecules

I also don't vibe with titles that instruct you to do something: - Go Tell the Bees That I Am Gone - Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead (good novel though!) - Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters - Go Tell It on the Mountain (adding one by the author of my beloved Giovanni's Room so you know I'm serious about this lol)

💌 To finish my rant on a more positive note, there are always exceptions, and I do like some poetic titles: - Tender Is the Night

One of my favorites and I haven't read it, I just like how it sounds. That would be "[Adjective] is the [Noun]". I don't know if there are more like this. I like that it's taken from a poem but it's not too wordy.

And the following are all by John Steinbeck. His title game was insane! And they are all references, which shows it can be done with grace and measure: - East of Eden — biblical reference - The Grapes of Wrath — lyrics from hymn which references a bible passage - In Dubious Battle — from Paradise Lost - Of Mice and Men — this one could go in the [Noun] and [Noun] category but the preposition adds a little something imo, and it's also taken from a poem.

Anyway, I hope this wasn't a bore! 💌

#sorry it took me so long to reply but look at this longass reply. and for no reason hehehe

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javierpena-inatacvest · 3 months ago

Text

Chapter 2- Awakening

Summary: There was once a time in his life where knocking on your front door was the best part of Frankie's day. Now, the thought of having to ring your doorbell to face you makes him sick to his stomach.

Word Count: 4.1K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (no use of y/n, reader has a name/nickname)

Warnings: (the tiniest hint of) smut (18+), illusions to masturbation (m), angst/regret, fluff, awkward adolescent yearning (I have quickly come to learn this is my favorite thing to write whoops), Frankie realizing he's caught a case of the ✨feelings ✨ and doesn't know what to do

A/N: Less than 10K word chapters?!? Posting a series on a schedule?!?! I don't even know who I am anymore?!?! AH, thank you guys for all your sweet words about this series so far. Writing this has sparked such a joy inside me, and it means so much that y'all are willing to read my silly lil story 🥺💛 This chapter is from Frankie's POV- I know the first chapter had both reader and Frankie, but as I've been writing, it seems like it fits the story better if some are both POV's and some are just one!

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

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Frankie, Present

“Bring these next door.”

His mother doesn’t even ponder the idea of phrasing it as a question when she practically drops the plate of chocolate chip cookies into Frankie’s lap.

“Ma, it’s 7:30 in the morning.” Frankie looks up at her dumbfounded.

“And? You’ve never eaten a cookie for breakfast when you’re sad? Go now, they’re still warm.”

There’s no way he’ll be able to head anywhere but straight out his front door, but Christ, he at least hoped he would have been able to buy himself a little time before having to face you.

“I just got back from a run. I smell like shit. Can I at least shower first, por favor?”

“Fine,” she groans, reluctant to give in so easily, “but be quick. Don’t think I won’t turn the hot water off, mijo. I don’t want these getting cold.”

She knows her son would take an hour long shower if he could. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’s spent way too long in the bathroom, over analyzing every inch of himself before going to see you. His mom isn’t sure if she should thank you or not for her son’s dedication to hygiene. She could barely get him to shower for the first 10 years of his life, but after you moved in, a few days before the start of 6th grade, bathing had magically no longer become an issue.

Frankie understands her threat of an ice cold shower is very real, and a very effective way to finally get him four doors down. He lets the hot water wash over his skin, turning it to a temperature that’s almost too painful to stand. He hopes that somehow, it’s hot enough to wash away all the sins he’s prayed you’d forgive him for, that the regret of every poor decision he’s been plagued by washes down the drain, disappearing never to be seen again.

He wishes it was that easy. That a simple shower would grant him the forgiveness he’s not sure you’ll ever give him. He wouldn’t blame you if you never did.

He forces himself to put on the first pair of shorts and t-shirt that he pulls out of his suitcase. If he doesn’t, he’ll be stuck in his room for the rest of the day trying to figure out what to wear to bring a plate of cookies to your doorstep.

“You should apologize, you know.” It’s the first thing his mom has to say to him as he makes his way down the stairs, barely three steps into the kitchen before she’s at his throat again.

“For bringing them dessert at 7:30 in the morning? I was planning on it.” Frankie huffs, trying to deflect the plan for the real apology he knows he should be making.

“Dios mio, Francisco, you know what I mean. I hope you’ve thought about how you’re going to explain yourself to her. You owe that girl an apology for the hell you’ve put her through.”

Frankie can’t blame his mother for the way she’s twisting the knife that’s stuck in his gut. He’s the one who put it there in the first place.

“I know. I’ve thought about it, believe me.”

They both know that’s the truth. Frankie’s spent more hours than he can count thinking about what possible combination of words he can string together that won’t make you hate him anymore than you already do. In fact, he’s spent so long thinking about it, replaying the million and one things he could say to you over and over in his head, that he’s convinced there’s nothing he could tell you that would buy him even a shred of forgiveness.

“Fuck you, Mackenzie. Fuck you for ruining my life. It’ll be better off without you fucking in it.”

Three years ago, he disappeared out of your life and those were the last words he left you with. He's spent three years of letting the last thing he had to say you haunt him like some sort of ugly ghost he can't forget.

At this point, there's a part of him that's not even sure he's worthy of forgiveness.

“Mom?” Frankie asks, eyes peeled to the ground, trying to keep his voice from breaking, “Am I making a huge fucking mistake coming back here?”

“Well mijo,” She pauses, gently cradling her son’s face, lifting his chin enough to let his tired, worn eyes meet hers, “That, I cannot tell you. Some things you have to figure out on your own. I think this is one of them. But what I can tell you,” she stops again, ensuring Frankie is listening, really listening to what she has to say, “is that you have never been one to leave things unfinished. I think there are still things left to finish here for you, Francisco.”

The slow nod of his head in her palm tells her he’s heard every word. He knows he needs to finish what he’s started.

“You also need to finish bringing these cookies to the Andersons, sí? Don’t think I forgot.”

“Didn’t think you would.”

Frankie’s not sure the walk to your house has ever felt this long. Every step against the pavement makes his feet feel heavier, weighing his body down, its final attempt at keeping him from showing up at your front door. It takes every ounce of strength he has left to get him there, but he does. He won’t himself fail you again. He can’t.

When he knocks on your door, he’s suddenly 11 years old, palms sweating and heart racing as he rings your doorbell for the first time, hoping the cool girl who moved in down the street still wants to play football with him.

Right now, he’d give anything to be that 11 year old boy again. God, what he’d give to grab little him by the shoulders and shake all of the stupid decisions he plans on making in the years to come right out of him. He’d give anything for someone to come shake the stupid out of him now.

Seconds pass like hours as he waits for someone to answer his knock. Maybe it won’t be you who does. Maybe he’ll get lucky and it'll be your mom. Maybe your dad, who is sitting on his literal deathbed, will be blessed with some divine miracle that grants him the strength to get up and answer the door instead of you.

“Be right there!”

He’d recognize your voice anywhere. It’s been three years since he’s heard it. Even with all the time that’s passed, there’s not a doubt in his mind he knows it’s yours.

Fuck, he’s missed the sound of you more than he’d ever like to admit.

He braces himself as the lock clicks on the other side of the door. The knot in his stomach tightens as he watches it open.

His heart wants to burst out of his chest when you finally appear on the other side.

“F-Frankie?”

“Hi, Mackenzie.”

Frankie, Fall of 2002, Age 14

It’s been 3 years, and Frankie still rings your doorbell every time he’s at your front door. Both you and your parents have been more than adamant he’s welcome to let himself in, at this point, they leave the door unlocked just for him.

As much as he wants to just slip through the front door unannounced to see you, he knows his mom would kill him if he didn’t wait to be let in and make his presence known.

“Francisco, I do not care how often you are over there, you are a guest in their home. If they are gracious enough to let you over, the least you can do is use your manners and greet them at the door.”

Frankie’s always been polite, but the world would stop spinning before his mother would let anyone else even have an inkling of thinking otherwise.

Truth be told, he doesn’t mind. He’d be hard pressed to find any 14 year old who didn’t have some sort of complaint about their parents, but you never really do, and he can see why.

They’re your parents, and he loves his mamá more than life, but the Anderson’s had taken Frankie under their wing from the moment he had crossed the threshold from their patio to their living room and never looked back.

It didn’t take long for the three toned chime of your doorbell to become the favorite part of his daily routine.

“Hi Frankie! Come on in, honey.”

Mrs. Anderson has that soft kind of sweetness that would make anyone’s day brighter, the kind of gentleness that a gardener has when tending to a field of their favorite flowers. She’s the type of person that would put anyone before herself, to a fault. It’s no wonder that given the circumstances, a house that should be shrouded in sadness is one of the places that Frankie feels the happiest.

“Thanks Mrs. Anderson. Can I put this in the freezer for Kenz? I figured she may want it when she gets home later.” Frankie gestures down to the chocolate chip cookie dough Blizzard he’s holding, trying to keep it from melting any further.

It’s become a sacred ritual that every Friday night, you and him ride your bikes to the Dairy Queen two miles down the road. He always gets an Oreo Blizzard, you, a chocolate chip cookie dough one. On the few Friday nights you can’t spend together, it’s an unspoken agreement that a Blizzard will still end up in the other’s freezer for the next day. It’s only happened once that a cookie dough Blizzard hasn’t been found in your residence within 24 hours of the start to your weekend- the one time Frankie was out of town to visit his family, you were pleasantly surprised to find not one, but two Blizzards in your freezer on Monday night upon his return.

“Frank the Tank! How’s it going, buddy?”

It’s always nice to see your dad up and around the house. His cancer has taken a lot of things from him, but his personality certainly isn’t one of them. Some bouts of chemo and treatment are worse than others, but it never ceases to keep Mr. Anderson from being the happiest man Frankie’s ever met. You always tease Frankie that he comes over to your house so often just so he can spend time with your dad. While of course it’s not 100% true that Doug Anderson is the only reason Frankie finds himself at your doorstep nearly every day, he also won’t deny the sense of comfort it brings him that your dad treats him like his own son.

“Hi Mr. Anderson!” Frankie smiles, shoving your Blizzard in the top left corner of your freezer between the ice packs and frozen vegetables.

“Another Blizzard for me? Always so generous, Frank. I’m convinced you might start running a Dairy Queen out of our kitchen pretty soon.” Mr. Anderson teases, giving Frankie a light punch to the shoulder. “How’d your algebra test go the other day, bud?”

“Pretty good, I think.” Frankie shrugs, trying to play off his confidence.

“Think you got a higher score than Kenzie?”

“I think so. But don’t tell her that.”

“Oh believe me, I will. Smart kid like you has gotta put her in her place every once and a while.”

Frankie blushes. School has never been his strong suit. He’s smart in the way he could fix just about anything from the time he could barely walk, but sitting in a classroom trying to absorb information through reading, taking notes and test taking has always made him feel like an idiot. You, on the other hand, could graduate in your sleep with straight A’s. He’s not sure how you do it, but it’s enough motivation to make him want to at least try. He thanks his lucky stars that this year, math is finally starting to make sense, and he’s got the upper hand on you for now.

“Is Kenz upstairs? I know she’s got her soccer banquet tonight, I just wanted to hang out for a little before she has to go.”

Normally he wouldn’t mind staying longer to talk to your dad, but on days he knows he’s working on a limited time table, efficiency is of the essence.

“Should be. If not, we have a problem on our hands.”

Frankie scurries from the kitchen and through the living room, up the familiar and well traveled path to your bedroom door. His heart always races a little faster every time he reaches the top step to the second floor.

Normally, it’s three long strides to cross the threshold into your bedroom before he plops himself on the edge of your bed, but as he takes a left turn at the top of the stairwell, he’s surprised to find your bedroom door is closed, and locked.

“Kenz! It’s me! Open up!” Frankie raps his fist on the back of your door, knuckles thumping against the wood.

“Not now, Frankie!”

He’s taken aback by your protest, scrunching his brow at your response and the distress in your voice through the other end of the door.

“What? Why? What’s wrong?” He asks, now a little more concerned.

“It’s just- Ugh! It’s nothing! It’s stupid, okay! I just don’t have time for this right now!”

You and him both know that’s not enough to get him to leave. Frankie is persistent. He’s not going anywhere until you open that door and he gets an answer as to what’s making you so upset.

“C’mon, MacKenzie.”

He only pulls the full name card for serious occasions, because he knows it’ll work. It’ll work every time. That’s why he can’t help but smirk at the click of your door handle unlocking, giving him permission to step inside.

Except he can’t.

“Kenz, get off the door and let me in!”

“I’m not on the door! Ugh, hold on.”

With the force Frankie was using, he nearly falls flat on his face as the barricade you’d built on your side of the door is removed, stumbling into your room and landing face first in a pile of clothes. As he looks up, he’s greeted with a sight he’s never once seen before in your room, and he has no idea what to make of it.

“Jesus Christ, dude, what happened in here?!”

To say a bomb had exploded in your closet would have been a polite way to put it. Every piece of clothing you owned was now a casualty on your bedroom floor, down to every last pair of shoes. You could barely stand to have a singular, stray sock on the ground, your bedroom always the near picture perfect scene of immaculately neat. So to see the disaster your room had become, Frankie knew that something had gone very, very wrong.

“I don’t have anything to wear for tonight!”

“Yeah you do, have you seen all the clothes on your floor? I think you have enough clothes for a small village.”

“Francisco!”

If she’s already pulling the full name card on him too, it must be serious.

“Sorry! Is this because of the end of the season soccer party tonight? I thought you said you were just gonna wear like, a skirt or something?”

Frankie’s never even contemplated the idea of you being upset over an outfit. You’d always been amicable in the wardrobe department- t-shirt, shorts, sneakers, same has him. This is uncharted territory for the both of you.

“Yeah, but then at lunch today Katie and Morgan said all of the Seniors want to dress up, like, really nice, and now I’m freaking out because I don’t know what to wear and I don’t wanna look like an idiot Freshman who shows up in something dumb.”

Frankie knows you’re stressed from how intensely you’re picking at the skin around your nails, leg bouncing furiously while your eyes dart around the room at the heaps of clothes stacked around the floor.

“You’re not gonna look dumb, Kenzie. You’re the only Freshman that’s made the Varsity soccer team in like, a million years. Hard to look stupid if you’re that good.”

It may not be much help, but it’s at least enough to bring you off the brink of tears.

“I guess,” you pause, too stubborn to admit that he’s right, “It’s just- all the other girls on the team are so pretty. When we’re playing it doesn’t matter ‘cause we’re all sweaty and gross, but- I don’t know, I feel like I’m gonna look so awkward next to everyone.”

But you are pretty.

It’s the first thought that pops into Frankie’s brain. He’s not sure how it got there so fast. All of a sudden he feels a hundred degrees hotter, hoping you won’t notice the way he visibly tries to shake the thought out of his head..

Where did that come from? She’s your friend, Frankie. Your best friend. She’s not pretty, she’s just MacKenzie.

“You won’t look awkward, you’re gonna be fine. I promise.” He’s relieved his response doesn’t seem to raise any suspicions, like you would have been able to read his mind and watch his thinking play out in real time.

“If I um- If I- Never mind, this is stupid! Ugh, this is stupid.”

You’re pacing now, arms crossed so tightly over your chest, he’s worried you’re going to squeeze your own eyes out like one of those little squishy toys you win from a claw machine. That’s if you don’t burn a hole in your carpet first.

“What?”

“If I-” You stammer again, scrunching your face at your own frustration, “If I try on what I think I should wear, will you tell me if it looks dumb or not?”

You’ve asked Frankie plenty for plenty of favors in the three years you’ve known him- being the one to lead the two of you home on a bike ride in the dark, opening your pudding for you at lunch because it exploded on you once and you’re terrified it will again, catching the giant spider that makes a recurrence in the top right corner of your bedroom and throwing it out the window- He’s not sure why out of all those things, this is the most terrifying favor you’d ever asked of him.

“Y-yeah. Okay.”

The two of you quietly nod at each other for a moment, Frankie hoping that he’s not the only one who’s wondering why the air has all of a sudden seemed to have gotten thicker.

“Okay. Well, um- turn around.” You point for him to take his usual spot on the edge of the bed, ensuring that his back’s to you and eyes only have the choice to roam the floor or the wall above your desk before he hears the shuffling of clothes behind him.

It’s then that everything starts to move in slow motion, like a flip has suddenly switched in Frankie’s brain as a wave of unsolicited thoughts begin to flood his head, feeling himself drown in the panic and confusion that’s washing over him.

What if he did turn around? You’re probably taking off your clothes right now. Are you in just your underwear? What color is it? Maybe you’re all the way naked. What would you look like? Why does he all of a sudden want to know so bad? What’s wrong with him?

In his manic state, his eyes are darting everywhere, trying to find something to lock onto that will shake him from whatever obscene cycle of thought he’s caught himself in. He instantly regrets when he lets his gaze fall to his feet, because peeking out of the pile of clothes beneath him is the better part of a bra.

Your bra.

He feels so awful that he can’t stop looking at it. So guilty that he can’t help the fact he’s trying to commit every detail of it to his brain- the teal and green polka dots, the thin lace that covers the shoulder strap, the little bow that sits in between the two cups where your breasts would go. He can’t stop staring. He can’t stop thinking about what you would look like in it. The only thing that stops him is hearing your voice from over his shoulder. And somehow, your voice only makes his chest feel tighter.

“You promise you won’t make fun of me if I look stupid?” Your words are so soft, delicate and fragile in a way he’s never heard you use them before. However scared you are, right now, Frankie would be willing to take that feeling and triple it for himself.

“Promise.”

His eyes are still closed when he swings his legs over the other edge of the bed. He’s too afraid to open them.

“You’re gonna have to open your eyes, unless you’ve suddenly obtained x-ray vision that you haven’t told me about in the last thirty seconds.”

The way you tease him grounds him enough to give in. It doesn’t ground him enough from leaving him speechless the moment he opens his eyes.

“Kenz… You uh, you- um-”

He’s stumbling over his words, trying to find them fast enough to stop the disappointment that’s flooding over your face because you think he hates the way you look. That couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“I look dumb, don’t I? It’s fine, Frankie, you can just say it.” You’re back to pacing again, storming around your room with a desperate, crazed look in your eye. “Ugh! This sucks! Why is this so hard, I just wanna-”

“You look really pretty.”

It stops you dead in your tracks. He can almost hear how hard you gulp, looking back at him like a deer in headlights.

“W-what?”

You ask it like you didn’t hear exactly what he said. He knows you did. You always do. It doesn’t stop him from trying to twist his words to help him out of the hole he’s already dug himself into.

“Your- Your dress. It looks really nice. You should wear it.”

He’s not sure how much time passes as the two of you finally lock eyes. Thirty seconds? Ten minutes? An hour? The way you’re looking at him right now is enough to make his world stop turning. It only makes it worse that he swears he can see your lips trying to fight the smile that’s slowly curling in the corner of your mouth.

“MacKenzie! We need to go, sweetie! Dad and I will meet you in the car!”

Frankie doesn’t know if it’s divine intervention or a devilish curse that your mom is calling for you from the bottom of the stairs. Whatever it is, it’s enough to snap both of you out of the strange spell that had overcome your bedroom and make Frankie feel like the only appropriate response was to race out of your house and hide in embarrassment for the next forty-eight hours.

“I should um- I should go, too. Santi’s probably waiting for me at his house. Have fun tonight, okay?”

“Yeah, o-okay. You have fun, too. Tell Ding Dong I say hi. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

Frankie’s in a trance the rest of the night. Physically, he spends the next few hours in Santi’s basement, glued to the couch while his friend yells at him that he’s not using the right combination of moves to max out his points in Tony Hawk Pro Skater 3. Mentally, he’s convinced he no longer exists on the same planet as anyone else around him.

When he gets home, all he can do is stare at his ceiling. If he closes his eyes to try to fall asleep, the only thing he can see is that teal and green bra laying on your bedroom floor.

He wishes the thought of you in it didn’t make his stomach churn. He wishes it wasn’t you he was picturing when he lets his hand creep below the waistband of his sweatpants. He wishes it wasn’t your name he was muttering under his breath as he makes a mess in hand, hips stuttering into his grasp.

He wishes it wasn’t you.

At least that’s what he tells himself. Maybe one day, it’ll work.

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