#even though it's not 100% white like before | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pucksandpower · 11 months ago

Text

So Good to Me

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc is the perfect man for you … getting stopped on the street for a random TikTok challenge just serves to prove that even further

The warm Monaco sun beats down on you as you stroll leisurely along the bustling sidewalk, a canvas tote bag filled with fresh produce and flowers from the local farmer’s market hanging from your shoulder. The salty sea breeze wafts across your face, carrying with it the excited chatter and laughter of tourists admiring the luxurious yachts bobbing in Port Hercules.

You smile to yourself, relishing this perfect Mediterranean afternoon. Just a quick stop at home to drop off your purchases, and then maybe you’ll take a dip in the infinity pool on the terrace to cool off before Charles is done with-

“Excusez-moi, mademoiselle!” A young man’s voice breaks through your daydreaming. You glance over to see a twenty-something guy with a neatly trimmed beard, expensive-looking sunglasses, and a black t-shirt emblazoned with HUSTLE in white block letters. He’s holding a mini microphone and has his iPhone pointed at you, clearly filming.

A TikToker.

You sigh internally but force a polite smile.

“Oui, puis-je vous aider?” You reply in French.

“Ah sorry, I don’t speak much French! Do you speak English?” The TikToker asks eagerly in a British accent.

“Yes, I do. Can I help you with something?” You say, switching to English yourself. You just want to get home but you know these influencer types can be annoyingly persistent.

The TikToker grins. “Brilliant! I’m doing a social experiment for my followers. I was wondering — do you have a significant other? A boyfriend or husband perhaps?”

You raise an eyebrow questioningly but decide to humor him. “Um, yes, I have a boyfriend,” you answer simply.

His eyes light up. “Fantastic! And would you say your boyfriend loves you very much?”

You can’t help but chuckle at the boldness of this stranger’s line of questioning. “Yes, I would definitely say that. He loves me a lot,” you confirm, a soft smile playing on your lips as you think of Charles.

“Perfect! Okay, here’s the challenge,” the TikToker announces dramatically, staring intensely into his camera. “I want you to call up your boyfriend right now and ask him to send you some money. Doesn’t matter how much. But for every €100 he sends, I’ll give you €20 to keep for yourself. Let’s see how much he really loves you, shall we?”

You stare at this guy incredulously for a moment before bursting out laughing. Is he serious? He clearly has no idea who your boyfriend is. An amused smirk spreads across your face as you fish your iPhone out of your designer purse.

“Alright, you’re on,” you say confidently, already unlocking your phone and tapping on Charles’ contact. The TikToker looks surprised but excited that you actually agreed to his silly challenge.

“Put it on speaker phone,” he instructs, zooming his camera in on your phone screen which is now dialing Charles.

After a few rings, the warm, honey-smooth voice you adore comes through. “Allô mon amour, what’s up?” Charles greets you sweetly. “I’m just finishing up some simulator runs but I should be done soon to help with dinner.”

“Hey baby,” you reply, your voice automatically softening. “Sorry to bother you, I know you’re busy. But I’m out right now and I just passed by that little boutique near the casino, you know the one? And I saw the most incredible pair of shoes in the window. I swear they were calling my name.”

Charles laughs affectionately, the sound like music to your ears even through the cell phone speaker. “Oh yeah? The ones that were calling your name last week turned out to be, what was it, €900?” He teases.

You roll your eyes playfully even though he can’t see. “Okay, fair, but you know I hardly ever splurge on myself. I’m usually so frugal!”

“Mmhmm, whatever you need to tell yourself, chérie,” Charles says wryly and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Let me guess, you need to go get these dream shoes right now? Or else they’ll haunt you forever?”

“You know me so well,” you gush dramatically. “I promise I’ll pay you back though! I get paid next week and-”

“Hey, hey, stop,” Charles cuts you off gently. “Mon cœur, you never have to pay me back, you know that. I love being able to treat you and spoil you. You deserve the world. Never forget that.”

You feel yourself melt at his earnest words, momentarily forgetting you have an audience. “I love you so much,” you murmur. “Thank you for always being so good to me.”

“Right back at you, ma belle. Je t’aime,” Charles says tenderly. “There, check your banking app. Let me know if you need any more. And have fun shopping! I’ll see you at home in a bit, okay? À bientôt!”

You glance down at your phone as a notification from your bank pops up on the screen. Your eyes widen slightly when you see the amount Charles sent over, but you recover quickly.

“Thank you, baby. See you soon!” You reply before hanging up. You turn back to the TikToker who is gaping at you in disbelief. Casually, you turn your phone screen towards him and his camera so he can clearly see the notification that €10,000 has just been deposited into your account.

The poor guy looks like he’s about to pass out from shock. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, rendered speechless. You just laugh good-naturedly.

“Well, guess I won your little challenge, huh?” You remark, slipping your phone back into your purse. “Tell you what, why don’t you donate whatever money you were going to give me to a local animal shelter instead? I think it’ll be put to much better use there.”

The TikToker finally manages to pick his jaw up off the floor. He laughs shakily and nods. “Yeah ... yeah I can do that. Wow. Um, thanks for being such a good sport about this. And congrats on, uh, winning, I guess?”

You give him a friendly wink. “Anytime. Have a nice rest of your day!” With that, you turn gracefully on your heel and continue on your way back home, feeling rather smug and deeply appreciative of your wonderfully generous boyfriend.

“Wait!” The TikToker calls out after you. You glance back over your shoulder curiously. He hesitates before asking in an awed voice, “If you don’t mind me asking ... who the hell is your boyfriend?”

An enigmatic smile plays on your lips. “No one special really,” you reply breezily. “Just a guy who loves driving fast cars.”

You leave the gaping TikToker in your wake as you saunter off, already daydreaming about showing your appreciation to Charles later for being the most incredible boyfriend imaginable.

Maybe you really will splurge on those designer shoes after all … and pick up a little something special from the lingerie boutique next door while you’re at it.

Your smile widens. Just as a little thank you to your man, of course. Life is good when you’re in love with Charles Leclerc.

4K notes · View notes

rae-writes · 7 months ago

Text

OnlyFantoms?? pt.II

om dateables/sides x reader

wc : 2.k

warnings : nsfw, gn!reader with skirt wearing (raphael), lingerie wearing (diavolo), online sharing

synopsis : lets see what the new latest trending porn videos are

a/n: MWAHAHAHA IT'S FUCKING HERE

brothers ver.

The maroon fabric of your babydoll lingerie was rumpled, tearing not even a second later from how ironclad Diavolo’s grip was. One hand had the lace fisted, using it to yank you back on his cock, while the other was wrapped around your throat, veins highlighted and muscles flexing each time he effortlessly lifted your body and slammed it back down at the rough pace he was fucking you. Your legs were spread wide over his straining thighs, body just barely covered by the sheer material that adorned your sweaty body, hands white-knuckling his horns with your nails scratching along the golden ornaments . Each time skin met skin, it echoed in the room— adding to the sensual sight of the morning light reflecting off the golden floors, walls- the regal throne the two of you were seated in. His sounds were muffled from the way his head was buried in your neck, no doubt adding more marks to the already bruise-littered skin. Your own head was tilted back against his shoulder, his fingers squeezing visibly at your throat before two of them pushed past your parted mouth, making your high pitched moans turn choked. His rough pace got even more animalistic, feral growl escaping him as your body tensed, milking his cock as you came, pushing him past that edge too— and the video cuts.

Where royalty sits | 0:10 seconds | 112.k views | 109.k likes | 100.k comments

TEN WHOLE SECONDS OF ABSOLUTE GOODNESS

Is this even legal to watch?? Cause if not, I’m happily packing my bags for jail

Typing this comment from my grave

*eats phone*

Amazing day to be a Devildom citizen folks

†

Hidden underneath the castle’s foyer stairs, the golden fractures of light shift as each of your bodies move. You were on your knees, thighs flexing, as you bounced up and down— riding Barbatos’ tail. The appendage forced itself deeper and deeper until the camera picked up on the arch of your back, the shimmer of your nails (painted in his colors) digging into his thighs, leaving behind wrinkles in the usually pristine black slacks. Gloved hands were tangled in your hair, gripping tighter the more his composure began to waver. The guided bobbing of your head went from leisure to almost desperate and then back again; after a particularly stressful day, he just couldn’t decide what he wanted. Only murmurs of praise left the royal steward, as opposed to your choked moans and whimpers and occasional gasps of his name when you came up for air before swallowing him down again. There was a brief moment in which he cupped the back of your head and shoved you all the way down- pausing- when footsteps ascended the stairs you were both underneath. Once it was quiet again, he pulled your head back with a caress of your hair and a soft apology, fucking you with his tail at a more rapid pace, insisting you needed to cum first. With you melting at his ministrations, he begins fucking your mouth, too, grunting almost inaudibly; the second your body wracked with your orgasm, he followed suit— and though only your backside view could be seen, the sounds of swallowing were crystal clear. With a low chuckle from Barbatos, and a breathy giggle from you, the screen goes black.

Off duty | 0:30 seconds | 97.k views | 92.k likes | 88.k comments

This is gonna be the next big fever dream, come lay your eyes on it while you can-

Mouth? Dropped. Eyes? Rolled. Drool? Leaking. Hotel? Corvo.

B A R B A T O S ? !

This is the best day of my life

asdfghjkl

†

Scraping of wood against marble tile echoed faintly as the entirety of Mephisto’s desk moved inch by inch. The force he was pounding into you created small thudding noises, your clothes dulling the sound of skin slapping, followed by sharp grunts as he worked to keep the relentless pace. Lights of the newspaper club’s office highlighted your bodies, leaving nothing hidden as he bends you into an even deeper arch, face buried in the mahogany desk. Newspapers- published and uncompleted drafts- are crumpled underneath your hands; he couldn’t care less, though, not when you’re moaning and crying out his name like you are. It’s clear he tries to show some decorum, but the rare sight of his demon form screams how disheveled you’re making him— tails coiled around your waist, horns pressing into your shoulder, sharp nails digging jagged lines into the wood of his desk. An enchanted quill is frantically scribbling in the background, no doubt writing down what was happening into a page of the upcoming newspaper draft; depending on whether or not Mephisto remembers- or cares- he might just leave the article in. The thought actually has him whining, fucking into you a bit faster, because he’d love to see everyone’s reactions once they read the damn paper— knowing he had you right under everyone’s noses. A quick tug of your hair to pull you into a messy kiss that the camera can’t see and he’s spilling his cum into you- dragging you off the ledge with him- and pressing his body flush against yours. You stay trapped like that for a few seconds, quietly laughing and teasing him, before he huffs and pulls back as you both try to make yourself presentable again when the video ends.

Extra, Extra | 3:25 minutes | 93.k views | 89.k likes | 84.k comments

Front page, baby. FRONT! PAGE!

Got his priorities down pat

What goes down in the news office doesn’t stay in the news office

Get that nOBLE DIck MC

Never thought I’d hear Mephisto whine—

†

White linen curls around your arms, clenched between your fingers, pillowing your head, delicately shielding the parts you didn’t want too exposed— all while the light in Simeon’s room bathes you in a replicated golden hour. His head is buried deep between your thighs, messy hair brushing your skin at each movement. One of his hands is keeping your left thigh flat against the bed, squeezing at the fat of it, while the other is subtly shoved underneath his body as he fucks his fist. With the leg that isn’t pinned down, your calf is resting over his shoulder, keeping him impossibly close; the sounds coming from him are muffled, as he’s barely able to breathe properly, but they’re desperate and needy, echoed by the mindless ‘please’s and praise he’s babbling out. The sheets covering his own body from view only hide his hips down to his mid thigh, giving the perfect- defined- view of his arched back and the flexing muscles rippling underneath smooth skin as he thrusts into the pleasure. There are faint reddened lines trailing along his shoulders and barely visible hickies on his neck, showing that, clearly, this hadn’t been the beginning of the night. It can also be seen in the way his hips stutter with overstimulation, toes curling at the sensation, even if he can’t stop because he still craves the release. It’s timed with the pace he’s fucking you with his tongue, moans harmonizing with yours, getting louder and breathier and a little whinier before he’s practically crying out an ‘I’m cumming!’. Not even a second later, both of your thighs are snapping closed around his head, trembling, as you follow. The come down is soft and sweet, whispered words and gentle caresses, with a murmured suggestion for a bubble bath just as the video cuts.

Worship hour | 2:30 minutes | 86.k views | 84.k likes | 78.k comments

I feel the grace of the celestial realm

PHEW

GOD AND DAMN

We’ve ascended guys—

Where can I get an angel

†

The scattered, organized, yet messy sight of school books, miscellaneous supplies, and the fact that you were in your uniform made it obvious this was one of RAD’s many closets. Raphael was sitting on top of an extra desk, legs spread rather wide as you sat on top of him; your skirt rode up around your hips, but his hands groped and squeezed your ass to shield it from view. He guided you at a quick, needy pace as you grinded against his clothed cock, sometimes jerking his hips up to meet the movements. The normally quiet and aloof Angel was panting and gasping, and if you listened closely, you could hear muffled whines every now and then when you moved at a certain angle. The sloppy sounds of wet kissing and tongues tangling seemed to echo in the small room, even despite his whisper of ‘have to be quiet’— in fact, he was more vocal than you, commanding you to go faster, asking you not to stop. Even the shadows passing under the door didn’t deter him from wanting you. The bell signaling class was about to begin made you pause without thinking, but he gave you no time to think: he grabbed you right up and twisted your bodies around until you were laying back on the desk, legs around his waist. With no room to barely breathe in between, he began fucking himself against you like an animal in heat, breathlessly apologizing and announcing he was gonna cum. With a few more rough thrusts, you can see his body shudder and melt over top of you— and the visible wet stain on the front of his pants as he gently helps you off the desk and fixes your clothes, suggesting a quick clean up spell so you can go to class, before the video ends.

[Can’t] resist temptation | 1:10 minutes | 88.k views | 82.k likes | 75.k comments

PHEW PART FUCKING TWO

His veiny hands make me ajsaljdkd

Are all the exchange students always this hot??

I will take a shower of spears to see this in person

Mc is my hero

†

Whatever device was recording had to be enchanted, as the screen was divided perfectly to show the inside of the common room, where the seven brothers all lounged, and the hallway wall just outside, where Solomon had you hiked up against it. His head was buried in the crook of your neck, only a peek of his lips showing. The bottom half of your face that was in frame is covered by his hand, fingers digging into your jaw to keep you quiet. The only thing covering your body was his starry cloak; the fabric fell off your shoulder, showing off the many hickies and bite marks adorning your skin. Your body bounced upwards at every sharp thrust— he was unforgiving with his pace, frame flush against yours as he fucked you deep. The audio barely picked up on the ragged pants falling from his mouth, the debauched praises that he was damn near singing as he had his way with you, all while being ten feet away from the brothers. The muscles in his arm flexed as he held you up, fingers marking bruises into the skin he was gripping. You raked your hands through his sweat-soaked hair, tugging and pushing his head up until you had your mouth against his. A barely audible cry of his name reached the camera as your back arched, fingers pressing just as bruisingly into his back. He finally stuttered in his pace, mouth falling open; he came with his tongue tangled with yours, accidentally having let out a hiss when you moaned aloud. Lucifer, who had been glancing up occasionally, as if he thought he heard something, immediately stood just as all the others’ heads snapped up. With a desperate kiss, Solomon opened a portal and carried you right through, leaving the brothers to hastily round the corner and begin shouting, before the video cuts.

Claim staking | 4:45 minutes | 91.k views | 88.k likes | 84.k comments

A good section of the comments is just hate from the brothers, I—

That sly, sexy, smug little fucker

I wanna be between the two of them

Sorcerer man hot

You could physically feel the charge in the air through the phone when the brothers figured it out

#om x reader #om smut #obey me x reader #obey me smut #diavolo x reader #diavolo smut #barbatos x reader #barbatos smut #mephisto x reader #mephisto smut #obey me raphael smut #obey me raphael x reader #solomon x reader #solomon smut #obey me simeon x reader #obey me simeon smut

3K notes · View notes

holeforzenin · 7 months ago

Text

First time with Yuta!! ₊˚⊹ᡣ𐭩

Not proofread, both are 19. Don’t take this seriously I wrote this while I was like half asleep :p

Yuta loses every factor of his well-being the literal second he feels your tight warm pussy enveloping his cock as he slowly thrusts it into you, feeding you inch after inch of his cock for the first time, he literally shivers as he feels your leaking hole coating his twitching dick with your essence.

You both were virgins so he kept promising you over and over that he’ll be so gentle and soft with you, he’d rather die than ever hurt you even if it was an accident. He’d question and constantly ask if you were sure that you were ready for it to happen and even though you kept reminding him that it was fine, it’s bound to hurt even if it’s a little, for the first time but he’s just so sweet and caring he had to make sure you were 100% okay with it!

But after he stuffed his cock deep—all the way into your hole to the point where the small huffs of his pubic hair planted on the base of his cock were tickling and grazing your puffy clit so deliciously, the wave of pleasure was just sooo overbearing for him. It’s something he never felt before even when he’s jerking off. The feeling is just not comparable, not even close—your pussy felt like fucking heaven to him. He whined, his breathing growing heavier as he stared down at your pretty face distorting in pleasure and pain. His eyes filled with pure lust and adoration as he wrapped your legs around his waist. “Fu-fuck! So this is what it hah!—Feels like?? Your pussy feels soo good baby, so warm and tight around my cock. You look so pretty like this” he moaned, his hand moving to slowly pull his shirt off his head, revealing his toned abs and bulging biceps. You bit your lips as you stared at the eye candy but quickly got caught off guard when he starts fucking himself in and out of you, his veiny dick dragging against your sensitive velvet walls.

You moaned out loud, he murmured a low “fuck” under his breath as he sped up the pace, feeling your pussy growing even more gushier and creamy as he opens it up with his cock. He pushes his dick so deep into you to the brim that it’s so brutal at the way his angry tip hits your cervix as if it it had personal problems everytime he forces his inches into you. You whimpered as the two of you held eye contact before his head fell back in pleasure, your cunt fluttered around his hard cock after seeing the sexy scene of your boyfriend being pleasured and fucked out. Your eyes roll back in your head as his tip nudges against your g-spot so deliciously, “Mmm baby your pussy looks so pretty being split open around my cock like this” he groaned, moving his thumb to rub messy circles on your clit.

“Ohmygosh Yutaa I love you so much, fuck! it’s so fucking good” Your back arches as you cried out, he uses that as his chance to grip your waist tighter and pound his cock into you at a deeper angle, your tight walls squeezing so snugly around his cock, threatening to milk it dry.

“Shit- I love you ngh! —too pretty girl! So so much! Love this little pussy too, taking my dick so well. You're doing such a good job baby” He moaned out, almost choking on air as he muttered curses under his breath that you didn’t even know existed.

Heavy meaty balls slapping flushed against your asshole as he bit his lips, feeling himself approaching his release. “Fuck baby m’gonna cum, be a good girl and cum with me yeah?” He basically begged, voice sounding pathetic as ever as he continues toying with your clit. You nodded, eyes screwing shut as you felt him twitching inside of you like crazy, his leaky tip grazing against your favorite spots that had your toes curled against his lower back.

“Lets—cum! Fuck yuta, cum inside of me, need you to fill me up pleaseee” you begged, Yuta gaved you a look that screamed “say less” before you felt steamy hot liquid overflowing in your tight hole, followed by your sticky cum coating his cock. A white O ring appearing at the base of his cock as he continued fucking his sticky seed back into you. “Fuckkk—Attta girl, taking my cock so well, this pretty pussy was made for me baby” He beamed a smile down at you, so innocent and sweet that you can’t believe it’s the same man making your cunt ache while he stretches it out the very second. “You look so beautiful like that my love, all pretty and stuffed with my cum”. In conclusion, after this he kept his cock stuffed inside you so you can cockwarm him while both of your cum leaks out of your overflowing hole.

1K notes · View notes

haeryna · 1 year ago

Text

the purest shade of white ↪ okkotsu yuuta x reader ⸙͎｡˚⋆ 𓋼

summary: yuuta looks almost like an angel, you think to yourself grimly, as you shift on the balls of your feet. you haven't seen your best friend in a couple years now, not since he left for africa. too bad he's attempting to kill the kouhai that you're trying to protect.

tw: manga spoilers! anime watchers, do not read. mild angst but happy ending. starts at the beginning of ch. 139. naoya zenin is here and he is his classic asshole self. reader is in the same grade as yuuta, both in age and in terms of cursed energy. swearing because reader is a bad bitch. mildly suggestive. unironic use of "senpai" and "kouhai." slight descriptions of blood and injury, everyone is subjected to the author's attempts at writing dialogue and fight scenes. not proofread but at this point that shouldn't be a surprise. it is blatantly obvious that the writer also does not know how to end stories

notes: thank you for 100 new friends! :) poll is technically still up but i'm impatient and yuuta was winning by a pretty decent margin so here it is lol. divider by @/saradika-graphics!

"Yuuji!" you yelp, slicing the head off a curse with a clean stroke of your katana. Purple ichor splatters to the ground as you whirl, searching for the familiar head of pink hair. "Stay close to me!"

Behind you, Choso grunts with exertion, sending out another bolt of Piercing Blood. Panting, you weave through the curses, letting their corpses fall behind you. Yuuji, where is Yuuji?

As the last body falls, you can't but let out an exasperated huff at the sheepish grin on Yuuji's face. "Don't scare me like that," you chide. "How am I supposed to protect you if I can't even find you?" Yuuji opens his mouth to protest but you shake your head. "I made a promise," you tell him, pain rippling through your heart dully. Gojo-sensei was long gone, stolen away by one of the people he had loved most in the world. Grimacing, you sheathe your katana, mindful of the blood that stains your palms, as you try to ignore the memory of his words all those months ago.

If anything happens, I need you to protect Itadori Yuuji. I know they're going to pull something on him once I'm not there to back him up.

"Senpai, what should-"

Yuuji immediately tenses as your hand flies to the grip of your katana. "I smell a rat," you mutter, nose wrinkling as you turn to face Naoya Zenin, standing atop a bridge. He bares his teeth at you in semblance of a smile. "How perceptive as always," he mocks.

"Cut the bullshit," you snap, hand still resting on the pommel. "What do you want?"

"Fushiguro Megumi," is his rather bland response, and you shift your feet into the opening steps of Flowing River.

"What do you want with Fushiguro?" Yuuji yells, and the way Naoya's face twists makes you want to vomit.

"I think I'll have him die."

Cursed energy fills your body as you leap. Naoya's resounding cackle burns through your ears as you swing, barely grazing his shoulder. Before you can push forward off your feet, a heavy presence rests on your shoulders, locking you in place. All four of you freeze. Yuuji and Choso look horrified, and Naoya looks as though he's broken out into a cold sweat. But you know this feeling, feel it settle back into your body as if it never left.

Okkotsu Yuuta steps out from the building ledge, dark eyes unreadable. Your body sings. Yuuta, Yuuta, Yuuta! His hair has grown longer, bangs sweeping over his forehead, eyebags a little darker than they used to be. You can feel Rika's presence, swirling around you in a mass of death and decay. You're used to it. You've grown to crave it, even. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, his facade cracks. Confusion, fear, and...regret?

Yuuta leaps, slamming into concrete and sending shockwaves deep into your bones. "Who's with Itadori?" God, even his voice is different, so different from the boy who said goodbye to you so long ago. You open your mouth to speak, but Choso beats you to it, brows furrowed.

"So you're Yuuji's executioner."

Blood turns to ice in your veins, and you can tell by the pained expression Yuuta has that you aren't hiding your emotions as well as you think you are. Naoya laughs. "I was going to tell you that, but you were being too emotional like the bitch you are."

"Who're you?"

Yuuta's voice is cold, but as Naoya babbles on, you can feel the horror settle thickly into your chest. Choso and Yuuji are talking behind you but it feels like you're underwater, you're sinking, drowning, and Yuuta must have come to a conclusion because all of a sudden he's surging forward-

You move before you can even think, steel clashing against steel. "Yuuji," you say, through gritted teeth. "Run."

A horrible grating noise fills the air as you let cursed energy flow through your body, shoving Yuuta's sword away from yourself. "I won't let you kill him," you hiss, body already shifting into Jagged Bolt. Yuuta's eyes flash as you surge forward, katana in hand.

"How would you describe my cursed technique?" you had asked Gojo, mindlessly swinging your feet. Gojo hums.

"Have you ever heard of Newton's Law's of Motion?"

You had crinkled your nose at that. "No?"

"An object in motion, stays in motion. Except you are the object. And your cursed energy is the motion." You remember how Gojo's lips curved slightly. "In other words, once you start, nobody can stop you."

You're crying, you realize with a start, as you cut a line into Yuuta's chest. Moisture seeps from your eyes as you twist your forearm into a parry, katanas sparking with each strike. Belatedly, you sense that Yuuji, your foolish, stupid, loyal kouhai has stayed, trading strikes with his fists between the precise movements of your blade. Your heart drops as Yuuta reaches for the ring on his finger.

No. No!

He twists it, and Rika appears behind you. Claws sink into your shoulder and you let out a cry of pain as she flips you into the ground.

"Be nice, Rika," Yuuta chides, as you hit the concrete. Blood spurts from your mouth as you choke, fingers clawing at the ground desperately for your katana. A piece of scaffolding is practically crushing your legs; instinctively, you know that if you try to break through it, you'll tear your limbs right off.

As Rika holds Yuuji up, you lunge desperately, uncaring of what you have to sacrifice. Inumaki's arm, the way half of Nobara's face had been practically ripped out of her skull, the remains of Nanami-san, the way that you were the one to find Maki's charred body-

I can't lose anyone else.

You scream as Yuuta pierces Yuuji's chest with his katana, cursed energy building in your legs as you prepare to shoot forward. Yuuta turns, eyes filled with an unidentifiable emotion as he sees you about to tear yourself in half just to reach Yuuji.

With a wave of his hand, Rika dives for you, and everything goes dark.

Yuuta had known you were special from the day he'd first met you. That spring, when Gojo-sensei had dropped him (and Rika) into a class of unsuspecting first years, he remembers that out of the four of them, you had moved so gracefully that he hadn't processed the katana in your hand until you'd pressed it against your throat.

"Gojo-sensei," you'd hissed. "What is this?"

While Maki, Inumaki, and Panda had been subsequently bruised up by Rika, you had dodged every single one of her movements until Rika had been (barely) called back by Yuuta.

"Another Special Grade," Gojo had hummed. "Just like you, hm?"

Special Grade?

What he hadn't realized then, he realized later; you weren't just special to him, but to the entire rest of the Jujutsu World as well. Special Grade Sorcerers were rare, Maki had told him. "You only have it because of Rika," she'd scoffed, "but she deserves it."

You quickly became one of his closest friends. You were fast enough to dodge Rika's ire, even laughing whenever she tried. You'd shown Yuuta kindness that he didn't think he deserved. You broke him out of his shell enough so that when he left for Africa, he felt as though he was standing with his own strength. His first katana had been the sister blade of your own, forged from the same metal by the same hands. The way your eyes had lit up when you saw it was a memory he cherished.

Somberly, Yuuta eyes the chains encasing your wrists and ankles, each decorated with the slips of protective paper that would nullify your cursed energy. Most sorcerers required only one. You required at least twenty.

He knows you, knows the way you always take the strawberry daifuku, leaving him the red bean ones even though he knows you prefer the red bean. He knows that you push yourself hard, harder than he's ever seen anyone work. But most of all, he knows your loyalty, how once your heart finally lets someone in, you'll never let them go.

Did you miss him like he missed you?

The chains are more for your own protection. He needs you to hear him out before you attempt to end his life for a second time. Yuuta knows now that Gojo must have asked you the same thing he'd asked him; to keep Itadori Yuji safe from the whims of the higher ups. Gojo, being the forgetful bastard he was, probably didn't alert you to the fact that he'd gone to Yuuta for help as well. Crouching, Yuuta eyes your body with a sad tilt of his lips. The injuries you'd sustained were immense, and it had taken quite a bit of his own cursed energy to reverse.

Will you forgive him?

You're asleep, breath hitching every so often. Yuuta wonders what you're dreaming of, before pushing the thought away. Tenderly, he cups your face in the palm of his hand, calloused fingers stroking your cheek.

"You need to wake up now," he murmurs, as your eyes flutter open, first in dazed confusion, before sharpening into panic.

"I'll miss you!" you'd cried, as you clung to Yuuta under the shade of the large oak. You were the first person he had told about his departure to Africa, and you took it hard. Yuuta had stood frozen as the first of your tears had dripped down your cheeks. It was the first time he'd seen you cry.

"I'll be back before you know it," he'd murmured, pressing a featherlight kiss to the top of your head. You'd looked up to him, eyes teary.

"Promise?"

"I promise," he'd said, interlocking his pinky with your own. A love like Yuuta's is a dangerous thing, you know, but in this moment you feel nothing but safe.

The first sensation you feel upon awakening is the dull ache in your (miraculously still attached) legs. The second is the warmth on your cheek. Yuuta is standing above you, hand gently resting against your face. Immediately you lunge forward, teeth bared. The rattle of chains stops you, and you swear. Of course he would have taken precautions. Yuuta looks almost hurt as you violently shake off his touch.

"Don't touch me, I swear to god I'm going to rip you apart."

Yuuta says your name sadly, but you're practically trembling with rage.

"He was just a kid, with the kind of power we wield, why the fuck would you listen to the higher ups?"

Yuuta echoes your name a bit more firmly, but you ignore him, tears building in your eyes.

"You're no better than the rest of them are you, you're just-"

"Senpai!"

Your heart stops as Yuuji pokes his head out from around the corner. They must have brought you back to Jujutsu Tech, you think distractedly. Just how long were you out?

"Yuuji!" you cry out, scanning his body for any injuries. He seems to be uninjured, but most importantly, he's alive. Tears fall down your cheeks. "Are you alright?"

Yuuji appears horrified by the sudden outburst as he hastily holds up his hands. "I'm fine, senpai, really, I'm sorry for worrying you. Okkotsu-san is actually on our side, I swear! It was a binding vow, that's why he had to actually kill me, but he did some really cool Reverse Technique shit and I'm all good now!"

Warily, you eye Yuuta, whose expression resembles that of a kicked puppy. "Okkotsu Yuuta," you say, voice hard. "Let me out of these chains right fucking now."

With a wave of his hand, the papers attached to the chains fall to the floor. Yuuta looks dejected as he looks away from you. "I'm so sor-"

Before he can finish you immediate tackle him into a hug, knocking the both of you into the floor as you bury your face into the soft slope of his neck. "You're such an idiot," you sob, unable to hide the rush of emotions going through you. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Tentatively, Yuuta wraps his arms around you, and you melt, pressing yourself closer to his body. "To be honest, I think Gojo-sensei is to blame. I think he forgot to mention to either of us that he asked us to do the exact same thing."

You let out a hiccupping laugh. "Of course he did. That forgetful asshole."

The sigh Yuuta lets out is shaky as he nuzzles the top of your head. "I'm so, so sorry," he tells you earnestly. "I must have scared you, and Rika's mad at me for making me hurt you like that. I think she likes you, even though she pretends not to."

You look up at him, really look at him, and see the look of adoration in his eyes as he stares back down at you. Thankfully Yuuji's escaped long ago, most likely understanding that you two would need privacy. "You came back," you whisper, and Yuuta's resulting smile makes your heart skip a beat.

"I promised you, didn't I?"

Before you can stop yourself, you pull Yuuta down for a searing kiss. He's so soft, and you nip at the plush of his bottom lip teasingly, pulling a whine from his throat. His large hands grip your hips, and in retaliation, you grab a fistful of his hair and tug. The breathy noise he makes goes straight between your thighs. You know he can feel your smile against his lips.

"I missed you," you breathe, pulling away. Yuuta looks dazed, lips kiss swollen, pupils so dilated that you can barely see the soft brown of his eyes.

"I love you," he blurts out, and your resulting laugh is airy as you press another chaste kiss to his lips.

"I've always loved you, Yuuta," you admit. "During Shibuya, I thought I wasn't going to make it. You were the only thing keeping me going."

The look in his eyes is fierce as he tugs you back into him, enveloping you in his arms. "You'll never have to worry about that again. You have my entire life. Where you go, I'll follow, and if I die, not even Death would be able to separate me from your side."

"Those sound a lot like wedding vows, don't you think?"

Yuuta's blush covers his entire face and you grin, pressing one last kiss to his lips. "Come on now. We have kids we need to protect."

As Yuuta leads you to where the others have convened, even under the dark circumstances you're in, the warmth of his hand clutching yours fills you with a giddiness you hadn't experienced in months. The sentiment is quickly dashed as soon as Maki opens her mouth.

"Fucking finally. Inumaki owes me 3,000 yen."

#haerinwrites #jjk x reader #jjk x reader angst #jjk x reader fluff #jjk angst #jjk fluff #yuta x reader #yuuta x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #i'm actually maki with the fucking finally #i love friends to lovers !!

3K notes · View notes

bunni-v1 · 2 months ago

Note

MORE JEALOUS PURE VANILLA COOKIE OMGGGG he'd totally be a jealous person despite his kindness

kinda imagining that in the stage during the push and pull he was doing, trying to push you away, you become quite close to some other cookies in the kingdom, specifically the creme Republic (clotted cream and financier) and he just gets.... uncomfortable when you two are FINALLY together because you're so friendly with clotted cream and his bodyguard.... like, hello.........

his eyes narrow slightly, and it just makes him feel so unpleasant, knowing that clotted cream cookie can easily strike up conversation with you and randomly tell him something you like—it makes his dough seethe slightly, whether he wants to admit it or not. or how financier and some random vanilla kingdom npcs mention a fact about you he coincidentally doesn't know because he was busy going through it and pushing you away before; OUGHHHHHH

i like to think white lily is involved in this in some way? he can't fully get over her and sometimes he tends to get passive about your very real concerns about how he looks at her as though he has something to say, i wonder how he would react if he finds you actually a bit insecure or unsure whether he'd pick you over her......... since he still cares deeply about his once first love, no?

anyways. yes. jealous PV is a concept that sticks heavily in my mind rn

-🃏

Jealousy Looks Ugly on You

🍓Hi pookiebear, I'm so sorry for 100% butchering the Creme Republic. I refuse to play that shit, even for that stupid blonde twink. Note, this takes place significantly after the events of Beast Yeast, so White Lily is technically visiting as a diplomat from the Faerie kingdom, and pv has already had his character development lol. Assumptions are made, and there is heavily implied past PureLily.

Tw: Poor communication; jealousy; implications at the very end; grammar/spelling errors

Info: Pure Vanilla x Reader; Implied past purelily; angst (not really though); fluff

Patience is a virtue that few cookies can claim to have. It's something that doesn't come easy to most, and Pure Vanilla Cookie has never judged anyone for being unable to hold themselves back from frustration. Except... himself of course.

He was exceptionally patient, to the point most gawked at him for his gentleness and understanding in certain situations. He held himself to a higher standard, and very few things brought out irritation in him. So... why exactly was the sight of Clotted Cream Cookie making his dough run so hot right now?

It wasn't as though Clotted Cream was doing anything offensive, quite the opposite actually. He was having a pleasant conversation, all warm smiles and... gentle touches. With who? Oh. Just the object of Pure Vanilla's deepest affections, the cookie he'd only recently been able to call his other half, his dearly beloved you.

Clotted Cream seems to speak to you with such familiarity, such warmth like perhaps he too harbors some kind of affection for you. Pure Vanilla's eyebrow twitches when he leans in to whisper something in your ear, and you laugh like it's the funniest thing you've ever heard. It nearly pulls a frown out of him, but his calm smile remains steadfast, not wanting you to notice and worry over him.

Still, his eyes narrow when Clotted Cream pats you on your shoulder good-naturedly. The former cookie locking eyes with him and smiling before sending you back to his side like he hadn't earned Pure Vanilla's ire only seconds ago. You are oblivious, as you always are, as he wants you to be. He only smiles at you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you just a little closer than he normally does.

"Did you enjoy your time with Clotted Cream Cookie, my love?" He asks sweetly, though he doesn't really want to know.

You give him a beaming smile, "As always. He knows how to make boring proceedings fun."

"Ah," he hopes you don't notice how he tenses, "What were you talking about just now, it seemed funny."

"Just an inside joke," you smile fondly as you remember, "it's only funny if you were there, or else I'd let you in on it too."

"That's alright," he hums, though his fingers press a little harder into your side as you walk, "I'm just happy to see you happy."

It's not a lie, either. He does love seeing your smile, but not when it's caused by another cookie. Not when it's treated like some kind of secret he's not meant to see. He tries to remind himself that there's no need to be so immature, but his dough is already warm and his mind spiraling. It took him so very long to come to terms with his feelings for you, he missed out on so much. Where he wasn't, other cookies were, and those cookies took his place in experiences that should've been his. Took smiles that should've been his. Moments he should've shared with you.

You place your hand where he holds you at your waist, turning to give him a warm smile. It warms his heart to know you're caring for him in your own way, but he doesn't want to make you worry. To ease your mind, he presses a kiss to your forehead, offering his own smile up to you. You were with him now, there was no need to worry any longer.

·┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

Pure Vanilla enjoyed quiet moments with you, especially ones like this. In the garden, surrounded by the white lilies there was nothing more peaceful than that. Your fingers run along their delicate petals as you hum a little tune to yourself, and he enjoys the sight with unbridled delight. His favorite cookie surrounded by his favorite flowers, what a blessing it is on his soul.

There are times where he wishes that every day could be like this. Just you and him in company, taking things nice and slow, soaking in the environment. You turn a little to sneak a glance at him, smiling to yourself when you notice his staring. The shyness cute on your face, something he loves to draw out of you.

Yes moments like these are exactly what he lives fo—

“Y/n Cookie? Are you around?” The familiar voice of Financier Cookie calls amongst the sea of flowers.

You perk up, standing from your spot with a wide smile, “I’m over here with the lilies!”

She comes into view around the corner, normally stern expression softening at the sight of you. Pure Vanilla does not like the look on her face. Still, he holds his tongue, there was no reason to be upset. She was a friend.

“Clotted Cream requests your presence,” She announces, and when you frown she shakes her head, “Nothing serious, he wishes to continue your conversation from yesterday. He’s in he quarters as usual.”

You brighten up, “Oh! I suppose we never did finish talking— ah, but… Pure Vanilla and I were spending some time together.”

He does not frown, though he really wants to. He knows that he could just say no, that you would remain by his side if he asked… but he can’t possibly take up your time when you are wanted elsewhere. It would be unfair to do so over such petty jealousy.

“We see each other every day,” He assures with that same gentle smile, “Go and enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”

You frown a little, “Are you sure?”

Of course he isn’t, “Positive. I’ll see you tonight.”

You hesitate for a moment, glancing at him worriedly, but ultimately wander off to find Clotted Cream. Financier stays back for a moment, watching you with an odd look on her face. The consideration is enough to pique his interest, so he raises his question.

“Is something the matter…?”

“Oh, no, nothing,” She shakes her head, “I would tell you immediately if there was anything to be concerned with.”

“Then why do you look so perplexed?” He asks again.

She seems to consider if telling him the truth is worth it or not. Mulling her options over for a few seconds before sighing, “It’s just a bit… odd to see them here.”

He frowns, “Whatever do you mean? Is there something wrong with the gardens?”

She shakes her head, sighing off some kind of weight, “Well, they’ve told me a few times in passing that they’re… not a fan of while lillie’s. The smell irritates them, if I’m remembering correctly, so it’s surprising to find them surrounded by them.”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware…” He mutters, grip tightening on his staff.

She gives him a small reassuring smile, but it does anything but help, “I’m sure they just forgot to mention it, that’s all.”

“Of course, thank you Financier Cookie,” He hummed with as much sincerity he could muster.

She smiles tightly at him, and then leaves him alone with his thoughts. And think he does, far too much. Not only are you so close with so many cookies, not only did you leave him for Clotted Cream today, but now he learns you don’t even care for his favorite flower? You hadn’t ever mentioned it to him, but you had to other cookies. Wouldn’t something this important be worth talking about with him?

He takes a deep breath, leveling himself out once again. He couldn’t get ahead of himself, knowing that you would never do anything to hurt him purposefully. He couldn’t stop the ache, though. There was so much he did not know about you, so many things he had to learn that other cookies got to hear without asking.

How much time would it take for him to know you the way they did? He burned with jealousy at how easy it was for other cookies to know you, to see you and talk to you with no effort. Each time you were around he felt himself falling apart at the seams, grasping at any little sprinkle of attention you gave him. He could never be so casual with you, not with the effect you had on him, and it made him so jealous to know other cookies had it so easy.

He sighs again, setting his hat down. Not even the lilies were bringing him comfort now, his mood soured yet again. All he could do was sit and seethe until you returned to his side, imagining what you and Clotted Cream might be talking about that was so important to pluck you from his side.

·┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

It is days of this cycle, which he refuses to break, even when given the chance to a million times. He just can’t find it in himself to step in, not when you seem so happy. Besides, it’s not as though he never sees you. He gets to have you to himself for most of the day, and especially at night.

Still, the annoyance grows in his chest little by little. Without realizing it he distanced himself from you, not wanting to overstep, he decides giving you space is for the best. Yet, he doesn’t realize just how much space he has given you. You begin to miss him, but he always has an excuse for you to go and visit with other cookies.

It feels like he does not want you around, even though he misses you dearly. The conundrum reaches a head when White Lily comes to visit. Being the Faerie Queen now, it was rare she took the time to see her old friend. So when the news of her traveling reached his ears, he cleared all his time to be with her.

You had not seen him since she had arrived, unless you were in your shared room. Even then, you hardly spoke more than a few words. There was an awkwardness there that hadn’t existed only a few days prior, it made your stomach ache. But how could you bring up your concerns when he merely brushed them away, always finding some way to make peace with the situation.

You did not hate White Lily Cookie, she couldn’t not control Pure Vanilla. But the sickness in your dough when you see them together does not go away with any soothing. He talks to her with such ease and knowing, in a way he never did with you. And when he looks at her there is a deep affection that never existed for you.

It makes you hurt. You could never be her, not in a million years. Perhaps that was why he was so distant recently, because he had missed her. Perhaps he wished that you were White Lily Cookie instead.

Despite him seeming oblivious, he was anything but. He was fully aware of the distance he had made between the two of you, and yet… he didn’t know how to fix it. His people pleasing ways had come around to stab him in the back, and he had no idea how to heal the wound inflicted by his own foolish actions.

Not until White Lily’s keen eyes picked up in the tension. She had always been able to read him well, it was why he was so fond of her. She knew him like no other cookie did, and he her. Which is exactly why she was the one to notice how worried he’d seemed.

“You’re tense,” She said simply, taking her seat next to him in the pagoda.

He sighs, “Is it obvious.”

“To me,” She smiles, “Tell me what’s on your mind, friend. It’s rare to see you so worried.”

He frowns at her, all the tension and fear from the week flooding him now that she was confronting it, “I am afraid I may be ruining my relationship.”

She blinks at him, tilting her head, “How would you be doing that?”

After a moments hesitation he lists the ways he has been dealing with the situation. The worry that he will never be close enough to you. The annoyance in his chest when other cookies are chummy with you. The distance he has created to avoid those feeling only making them worse. She smiles through the whole thing, knowingly.

“So… you’re jealous?” She chuckles, leaning forward with a teasing smile.

“I… suppose I am,” He admits, “It’s not as though the feeling is new, but it’s never been so strong…”

She laughs at him again, “Because you are in love, silly. Of course it’s stronger, have you talked to them about it.”

“Well…”

“Pure Vanilla.” She scolds, “Goodness, when will you ever learn. You can’t people please all the time, it’s not good for your health.”

He sighs, nodding along in agreement, “I know, I just don’t know how to bring it up so I deflect. And I’ve been avoiding them since you arrived, I can tell they feel horrible, but I fear I’ve gone too far.”

She hushes him, grabbing his hand in her own, “It’s never too late if the intent is there. I’m sure they’ll understand if you just talk to them. I would.”

“Thank you White Lily,” He smiles genuinely for the first time since she arrived, “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

She smiles warmly at him, squeezing his hand tightly. She always had a way to ease his worries with her words. It was just how well she knew him, she knew just what he needed as always.

A throat clears to the side of them, drawing their attention to it. White Lily reacts first, pulling her hands away from him and offering you a smile.

“Am I interrupting?” You ask, mousy with voice shaking.

“Of course not,” She assures, “We were just talking about you, actually!”

Your expression relaxes a bit, inching forward as if one of them might deny you entry, “Nothing bad I hope…”

“Never,” Pure Vanilla speaks with such warmth that you almost forget how much you’d missed him this whole time, “Please come join us.”

So you do, and you sit and talk with them, and things are nearly normal. Pure Vanilla is back to his usual affectionate self, like nothing ever happened. But you catch the way he and White Lily exchange glances, the way banter comes to them more easily than it ever has to you. They just understood each other in a way you never have, and you couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. Especially not after he’d pushed you away so much.

Eventually, White Lily leaves with the excuse of needing rest. Yet, you know it’s to give the two of you space. She’s always been observant and understanding, and you’re grateful for her consideration. When it is just you and Pure Vanilla again, you feel the tension begin to creep back between you. The thick wall of awkwardness wedging between you, and you fear for a moment that this is how it will be forever now. Then, he takes your hands in his, leaning over the table to get closer to you.

“I have to apologize,” He begins, “I have been unfair to you, and we have both suffered because of my actions.”

“Pure Vanilla—“ You want to ease his worries for some reason, tell him it’s alright, but he doesn’t allow you to.

“It took me a very long time to let you in, and because of that I fell short on sharing important moments with you. I’ve found myself… envious of other cookies who take up your time, and I’ve been immature in how I handle it,” He admits, stroking the backs of your hands, “I’ve put too much distance between us, and I can see how much it pains you. I’m so sorry for how I’ve acted, I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me.”

It takes you a moment of awkward blinking to take in all he said, and while his genuineness is sweet, you can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your stomach. It’s ridiculous when you think about it. He was jealous so he avoided you, and at the same time you were just as jealous of White Lily Cookie. It was silly, and so easily solved, yet neither of you were willing to upset the other. He seems to find the humor in it all too, laughing heartily at your side.

You laugh until your sides hurt and tears are streaming from your eyes. Leaning your full weight on him so you don’t collapse to the floor. When you finally calm, you find it in yourself to admit to your own plight.

“I would be harsh on you, but I’m just as guilty of jealousy.” You sigh, squeezing his fingers in yours.

“What do you have to be jealous of?” He asks, and you almost can’t believe he doesn’t know. It’s so obvious to everyone else around him that he still adores White Lily, everyone but him it seems.

You shake your head in disbelief, “Gosh, you’re so oblivious. You really don’t know how you look at her, do you?”

He shakes his head with a deep frown.

“When you look at White Lily, I can see how much you still love her. I know you would never hurt me or betray me like that, but it does hurt when I see how you treat her. I feel like… maybe you’ll never look at me like that.” You admit, voice small and shaky the longer you go. It was hard to come to terms with how much it hurt, and worse to say out loud to him. He could reject you, pretend your feelings aren’t real.

Instead, he tucks a finger under you chin and forces your eyes on him, “I already do… I just get so embarrassed when you’re looking that I hide it from you.”

He pulls you a little closer, “I still love White Lily, but not in the same way that I love you. You are my whole world, my love. I would never leave you, not for anyone, and I’m sorry I made you worry for even a moment.”

You smile softly at him, leaning into his touch, “Next time, I think we should both just talk about it? All this dodging each other is silly.”

“I agree,” He chuckles, “I much prefer talking to you than not.”

“Very good,” You hum, sliding your arms around his shoulders, “Shall we make it up to each other then?”

His hand tug you closer by your waist, “I think that would be very nice, yes.”

#x reader #bunni's treats 🧁#crk x you #crk x reader #crk #cookie run kingdom #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run kingdom x you #pure vanilla cookie #pure vanilla #pure vanilla x reader #pure vanilla x you #pure vanilla cookie x reader #pure vanilla cookie x you

439 notes · View notes

fixated-cookies · 2 months ago

Note

okay so hear me out y/n in a revealing outfit for shadow milk cookie and pure vanilla cookie to rate It and you can of course make It yandere :3

oooh, I was brainstorming really hard on this one mhm, I have so many interesting post in my askbox I'm so happy and grateful for you guys ahhhhh hearts!!!

WARNING- Yandere, outfit ripping,

Pure vanilla will definitely favour a light color palette, consisting of creams, white, soft pinks, or baby blues. Very dreamy. Shadow milk's got the opposite spectrum; dark blues with gothic influences. He wants to make you a living doll. Anyways let me skip to the part where we're all here for. Now...with Pure Vanilla seeing you in a revealing outfit, he'd cup your cheeks, eyes filled with awe. “Oh, my dear… You look divine" you’d see the slight dusting of pink across his cheeks—he’s not immune to fluster, even if he tries to be composed. If the outfit had a lot of frills or a dreamy, fairytale-like quality, he’d melt.

But if it’s too revealing, you might hear him gently clear his throat, his fingers subtly adjusting the fabric. “Ah, this design is rather… daring. But it suits you beautifully, even if I’d prefer something a touch more modest.” What can I say? The man is old-fashioned.

His rating? 9.5/10. He adores how angelic you look, but if the outfit is too immodest, he’ll definitely get a bit shy about it.

“Now this—” he drawls, circling you like a predator inspecting his prize, “—this is art.” He’d love the contrast of darker, bolder colors—deep purples, velvety blacks, even a dramatic splash of his very own blue. If the outfit has intricate designs, dramatic draping, or something teasing like sheer fabric, he’d be so pleased. “Ah, Pure Vanilla likes his little doll in soft pastels, does he? Tch. Predictable.” He tugs at the fabric slightly, admiring how it clings to you. “But this? This makes you look absolutely ruinable.”

His rating? 10/10. No complaints. None. It’s perfect. If anything, he’d probably start thinking of even more daring additions just to mess with you further. Their final thoughts? Pure Vanilla: “You don’t have to wear something so bold, little one… You’re already beautiful in anything.” Shadow Milk: "Oh, please. Let them enjoy the attention. Look at them—don’t they just shine under it?” But then, in a rare moment of agreement, their gazes darken at the same time. The outfit is pretty, yes… but wouldn’t it be even better if it was in pieces? Pure Vanilla tilts his head, feigning a thoughtful sigh. “This fabric is so delicate. I worry it might not last very long…” Shadow Milk grins, a sharp, wolfish smirk as he tugs teasingly at the hem. “Mm. A real shame.” His voice is dripping with amusement. “Wouldn’t it be so tragic if it just… fell apart?”

Before you can react, there’s the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing.

Pure Vanilla’s hands, gentle as they may seem, are deceptively strong as he easily pulls apart the fragile material at the seams. Shadow Milk, on the other hand, grip is ripping away excess fabric without a second thought. “Well,” Pure Vanilla murmurs, trailing a finger down your now-exposed skin, his smile far too composed for the situation. “I suppose that makes it a perfect 100/10.”

Shadow Milk’s breathy laugh is pure mischief. “See? Much better.” He flicks away the last bit of fabric clinging to you, watching as it flutters to the floor. “You should’ve just let us do this from the start.”

Outfit Rating? Doesn’t matter. The real fun is in ruining it -- I feel like this at this point I should just write my own characters because I think I'm ruining PV and SM, are they too out of character??? Like, I know PV would never do this but I just love the though of him hanging around SM and SM just becoming such a horrible menace and influence on him.

#shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk cookie #crk #crk x reader #yandere shadow milk #yandere shadow milk cookie #yandere pure vanilla #pure vanilla cookie x reader #pure vanilla cookie

408 notes · View notes

artstennisracket · 2 months ago

Text

Say Ah! ib: Say Ah by Trey Songz please listen while you read :) patrick zweig x art donaldson x fem!reader

cw: nsfw(18+), drunk sex, drug use, dirty talk, squirting, eiffel tower of sorts

girl it’s your birthday open wide i know you’re thirsty say ah

Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson were two very notable names at your very prestigious boarding school. Art’s parents were rich but they were new money. Art’s dad had created a startup tech way before Art was born and it became super successful.

Patrick’s parents though? They were old money. Like Vanderbilt, Rockefeller, Carnegie type old money. No one even knows what his parents do but with amount of money they pay for boarding school tuition, no one really cared.

Art and Patrick were attached at the hip. It made sense though, they were roommates for years. Their families are friends now. They spend breaks and summers on trips to europe or the carribean. Between the Zweig’s chalet in Geneva, the Donaldson’s villa in the Bahamas, the Zweig’s chateau in Nice, and the Donaldson’s beachfront house in St.Kitts, they were spoiled for options.

There were rumors going around that they share girls. You weren’t 100% sure what that meant but you could use your imagination. There were other rumors that they were actually dating each other but you weren’t sure about that either.

Your paths hadn’t crossed much in the almost 6 years you guys have been here. But tonight your best friend insisted you guys go clubbing tonight for your birthday. You liked to party from time to time but you’d try not to go overboard. Emphasis on try. But you were a party girl at heart.

You put on the white shirt and a sequin mini skirt. You finish your makeup and throw on some heels.

“should we pregame?” You ask fiddling with your hair in the mirror.

“nah we won’t need to,” your friend, Liz, says as she finishes zipping up her thigh high boots.

You raise an eyebrow. You know it’s been a minute since you went out but you’re pretty sure pregaming is still the most cost effective way to get drunk.

She continues as she stand up, “we’re going to Patrick and Art’s section tonight at Ikon.”

Oh.

“oh um- i-i didn’t know, i’ve never partied with them before,” you’re unsure why you’re nervous. You’ve been clubbing a million times. And it’s just Patrick and Art, how intimidating could they be.

She shrugs, “i’ve been out with them a few times, they’re super nice. they just always order bottles so there’s no point in pregaming with cheap stuff.”

You nod and follow her out the door.

When you guys get inside the club is already pretty packed. Sweaty bodies and sticky floors. You hold onto you friend hand as she drags you through the club and upstairs. Weaving through the masses.

You’ve never been to Ikon before, you usually frequent Barcelo or Kapital more. But so far you were liking the vibes.

Once you guys get to their section, your friend steps over the velvet rope and you follow suit.

There’s a ridiculous amount of people from school here, mainly girls but a few guys as well. There were a few champagne buckets with ice on the table. In them, so many bottles. Clase Azul, Dom Perignon, Don Julio. Oh wow, Liz was not joking.

She greats them each with a side hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“lizzzzzz, lizzie, you made it i’m so happy you came,” Art says. He’s definitely a little tipsy.

“couldn’t let you host without inviting the life of the party and the birthday girl,” She says gesturing to herself and you.

Patrick smirks. He’s holding a bottle of 1942 in his hand. He takes a swig before he says, “and who is this birthday girl you’ve brought with you?”

You’re nervous again. Why are you nervous? Fuck. They’re just two rich white boys, you need to pull it together. You take a breath and say, “y/n”

Art smiles and claps his hand on Patrick’s shoulder, “have you taken a shot yet? c’mon pat give her a shot. it’s her birthday.”

Patrick is more than happy to oblige. He walks over to you, holding the neck of the bottle, “c’mon birthday girl, say ah.”

A shot is exactly what you need to loosen up. You tilt your head back, opening your mouth. You move your hand to cup right under your mouth as a safeguard for any spillage.

“there you go, uh uh no hands baby,” He says. The butterflies in your stomach going crazy after he says that. But you move your hands nonetheless. He pours some tequila into your mouth. His aim wasn’t perfect so a little does dribble down your neck. He leans down to whisper by your ear, “good girl.”

And just like that he’s gone.

The rest of the night is really fucking blurry. Art and Patrick were giving out shots like water. If you ever had an empty cup it was filled within minutes. If you were dancing so you hadn’t had a drink in a minute, Patrick of Art were there in seconds. They didn’t even have to tell you what to do anymore. You instinctively tilt your head back and open your mouth everytime they approach you with a bottle in their hand. Their excuse being “it’s your birthday, can’t let you go thirsty”

There’s a moment where you walk back to the table in the section that Patrick and Art are sitting at. They’ve got a few lines of coke on the table, Art going first. So Patrick is the first one that spots you and gestures for you to sit next to him.

“enjoying yourself birthday girl?” Patrick smirks. But before you have a chance to answer, Art is passing him the very tightly rolled $100 bill for Patrick to do his lines. So Art steps in to fill the conversation.

“hey having fun?” He smiles a big goofy smile. He’s actually kind of cute. And a decent contrast to more chill Patrick Zweig. But you haven’t really gotten to know them yet so you’ll hold back on the assumptions for now.

You nod slowly, fearful that too much head movement sitting down would make you dizzy, “so much fun, you guys are good hosts so that makes it better.”

Patrick sits back up and wipes his nose. He turns his head to look at you, “where are my manners? did you want?” He asks gesturing to the half empty tiny plastic baggy on the table.

You shake your head no laughing, “i tried it once and I just threw up all over the place so i’ll pass”

He nods in understanding. You notice he has his hand on Art’s thigh as he keeps talking to you, “good birthday so far?”

You nod smiling, “best birthday so far.”

“good i’m glad we could make that happen for you,” He says leaning into your personal space bubble. If you don’t know any better you’d think he’s trying to kiss you, there’s just one more question you want to ask first.

“you and Art seem pretty close,” You say, not creating any distance between the two of you. If anything you lean in closer. You keep eye contact with Patrick. You can see the gears turning in his head as he thinks of how he should answer that.

He smirks, he does that a lot you’ve noticed, “do you wanna see just how close we are?”

You nod biting your lip, but you’re not 100% sure if this is going where you think it’s going.

He sits back up turning his head to Art’s direction. He puts his hand on Art’s chin making Art face him, pulling Art away from whatever side conversation he was having. And he pulls him in for a kiss. It’s slow and sloppy, expected since they’re both kind of drunk at this point. Art kisses Patrick back with no hesitation, so they’ve done this before.

When Patrick pulls away from the kiss he turns back to you while Art goes back to his side conversation. A smirk plastered right back on his face, “does that answer your question?”

“so the rumors are true? you guys are together?”

Patrick laughs. He actually laughs so hard he throws his head back. When he finishes his laughing fit, he turns back to you to say, “fuck no I am not dating blondie, we just like to have fun.”

They just like to have fun. Have fun? So do they share girls? It’s another rumor you heard and it sounds like something someone who likes to have fun would do.

Before you can think on it anymore your body is spewing out the words, “so do you guys share girls?” No reference to the rumor at all, so it almost sounds like you’re asking for yourself.

Now that peaks Patrick’s interest. So maybe it is true? He leans down by your ear again to whisper, “do you want to find out?”

That’s how you end up in their dorm room at 3am.

Initially you didn’t want to leave your friend Liz behind but apparently she had already left with another which she sent you a text about an hour ago. Wow you really don’t check your phone when you’re drunk.

The three of you waste no time taking off your clothes. It’s been a minute since you’ve had sex with one person, let alone two.

You noticed they had pushed both their beds together, very interesting. Patrick and Art start making out on their bed, Patrick is lying down and Art is on top of him.

You’re not sure where you should jump in until Patrick grabs Art’s curls pushing his head down to come face to face with Patrick’s cock. Once Art starts sucking, Patrick gestures for you to straddle him.

You climb on top of him and he pulls you down for a kiss. It’s slow and sensual, like he’s trying to explore your mouth with his tongue.

Art pulls off Patrick’s dick and moves his focus to your pussy. Since it’s right in his face now, he can’t really resist. He lazily continues jerking Patrick off as he licks up the crease of your folds.

He licks up and down, making sure to go down far enough to lick at your clit too. The he comes back up to push his tongue inside of you.

“oh fuck,” You moan into Patrick’s mouth.

Patrick pulls away from the kiss biting your bottom lip, “make sure you’re getting her ready for us.” You assumed he was talking to Art and on cue Art stuck two fingers inside of you, making you gasp.

Patrick moves his hands so one is grabbing your ass while the other is cupping your breast, toying with your nipple.

You being moved into a different position but you can’t tell where Patrick body ends and Art’s body begins. You’re not sure whose hands are where but now you’re on your on your hands and knees with Art in front of your face and Patrick behind you.

You’re looking up at Art as he drags his tip against your lips, smearing his pre cum around.

“fuck, you’re really fucking pretty,” Art breathes out.

At the same time Patrick had already rolled on a condom and was teasing your entrance, “don’t get all sappy on me now donaldson. c’mon y/n say ah”

As soon as you hear the phrase you’ve gotten acquainted to over the course of the night, it’s like muscle memory and your mouth opens.

Art and Patrick pushing into you at the same time from opposite is a euphoric feeling you don’t think you’ll ever forget.

Patrick hands gripping your hips as he fucks into you. Art’s hands tangles in your hair as he thrusts into your mouth. Patrick bruising your cervix, while Art bruises the back of your throat.

There are some differences between the two of them. Art is very whiny. He whines alot as he thrusts in and out of your mouth, mumbling over and over about how good you’re making him feel. While Patrick is more of a groan-er. He groans and moans as he fucks himself in and out of you, saying how well you’re taking his cock and what a good girl you are.

They went back and forth saying stuff like:

“holy fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”

“fuck, shit, love seeing your lips wrapped around my cock”

“taking my cock so well,” They both said that in unison at the same time. Kinda freaky. But it added to that pit in your stomach that was building towards your orgasm.

All you could do was moan around Art’s cock that was shoved down your throat. Art’s shoved your face towards his pelvis almost suffocating you and you’re not sure why at first, until you hear kissing?

They’re making out above you. At least you can check eiffel tower of some sorts off of your bucket list.

You can feel both of their thrusts start to stutter, they’re close. They pull away from their kiss and you hear Art say, “fuck baby I’m gonna cum, i’m gonna—.” You feel his release shoot deep down your throat before he pulls out. And you swallow it all down.

When Art cums you feel your orgasm rip through your body but it feels different, “im cumming—“ You moan as your body contracts and there’s a rush of liquid. Patrick pulls out halfway as you squirt all over his dick. “jesus fuck,” He moans.

He was already on the edge but your tight hole squeezing around his cock mixed with the visuals of you squirting on his cock pushed him over the edge, “shit im gonna cum—“ He releases inside you before he pulls out and ties off the condom.

Art had already fallen asleep on his side of the bed but you couldn’t really blame him because he was drunk.

You’re not sure if you should leave and try to sneak back into the girls dorms or if you should stay. Patrick comes back and hands you a rag so you can clean up.

“thanks,” You say with shy smile, unsure why you’re feeling like you’re sobering up a little.

He offers a soft smile, “you know you can stay if you want, i wouldn’t kick you out.”

You gesture to the soiled bedsheets on what you assume is Patrick’s side of the bed, “sorry about the mess, i can help you clean up.”

He lets out a small laugh, “don’t apologize that was fucking hot, you do that often?”

You offer a smirk this time, “wanna find out?”

You both have to carry Art’s passed out body onto the sofa while you guys change the sheets. When Art wakes up the next morning to find new sheets on his bed, Patrick ignores all his questions about it, insisting that “it’s better if y/n just shows you what happened.”

a/n: bonus points if you recognize the club names :)

494 notes · View notes

orphicsun · 5 months ago

Text

・゜゜Gamer Ellie Headcannons ・．

NSFW CONTENT BELOW, MDNI

✧.* Gamer Ellie wears those plaid boxer-shorts around the house adorned with some random t-shirt she often sleeps in. When she's out and about, she loves her classic flannel or white wife-beaters, sports bra peeking out of the fabric when she moves just ever so slightly. Converse and doc-martins all the way. You'll beg her not to wear it in public, but Ellie's got this one black Call of Duty t-shirt that is she is obsessed with.

✧.* Gamer Ellie ismore introverted than anything. She likes staying inside with you and watching movies with you rather than going on restaurant dates. Speaking of movies, gamer Ellie would be more into comedy and sci-fi than anything. I've mentioned in previous headcannons Ellie would be a huge Jurassic park fan, but some other movie / shows she'd be begging you to watch with her are Airplane, Star Trek, and Pulp Fiction. Anything with action or on her level of dumb humor, and Star Trek for when she's geeking out. It's her guilty pleasure.

✧.* Gamer Ellie's favorite type of physical touch is having your fingers running through her hair. She likes to feels your touch in such a light, vulnerable way. Sometimes when she's playing a game, you'll approach her from behind and massage her scalp with your sweet touch. "Babe, you're distracting me!" She'll complain with a dramatic but playful groan, but her freckled face will melt like ice on a hot day from your touch.

✧.* Gamer Ellie isn't good at multi-tasking. She loves having you all up in her lap while her fingers are punching keys, but she always seems to lose when you're touching her, let alone near her. Why? Her thoughts are filled with the night before when the two of you were about to fall asleep, giggling in bed about some video on your phone, and specifically she's thinking about when you forgot all about sleep and had a late-night make-out session with some 90's movie tuned out on the television. It's so hard to remember to reload her virtual AR when all she's feeling is the way your warm fingers slid down her back and how your breathing turned into soft pants when she got all greedy and latched her filthy mouth onto your neck. Still, she'd never tell you to get off of her lap so she could focus. You were worth every aggravating respawn.

✧.* Gamer Ellie, in bed, isn't some huge dommy-mommy or whatever you're thinking. She's really touchy, sure. But she's honestly just your average lesbian who is absolutely obsessed with her girl, and she blanks at time. You'll be on top of her, and she's got this cave-woman aura going where she's just staring at your pretty face, focused on chasing your lips for a kiss. Her hands are awkwardly perched on her sides because she forgets how to even touch you: you're such a fucking goddess, and she's kind of a loser. You're a savior, though; guiding her hands to your waist with a sweet, patient smile. Ellie will get the cue and her fingers will spread across your waist to the top of your hips, and she remembers how desperate she is. (This one was inspired by me with my gf, you're so real gamer Ellie)

✧.* Gamer Ellie is also a switch! If you want her to be the top, she'll do it, but like I said she's going to be all cute and embarrassed about it. She'll be eating you out and her thoughts will be going at 100 miles per hour: "Am I doing this right?" "She's moaning Ellie, stop overthinking it." And sometimes the only thought she can really be having is "I love pussy." Cute. When she's bottom, which is most of the time, she isn't really all submissive and whiney but more like, defensively flustered like how she got with Dina when Dina threatened to bite her on the couch. Gay panic type of bottom. She does get pretty loud when you use a vibrator on her, though. That's a personal favorite in the bedroom.

✧.* Gamer Ellie did have a Fortnite phase. She hates talking about it but she spent like an ungodly amount on the stupidest skins. She used to make you watch her play at first, and then it was you having to create a whole Epic account so you could be her duo. Ellie's favorite season? Chapter two season seven. Why? Aliens. She got the battle pass and unlocked the alien skins, too. A little after she got super obsessed with it, like yelling at some 12 year old boy telling him his mother wishes she swallowed him, she moved on to a game that wasn't making her yell at at her screen. You were thankful.

✧.* Gamer Ellie is a huge night owl. While your sleep schedule is pretty average, she will blink and it'll be four in the morning. She'll groan and pop her back before stripping down to underwear and a t-shirt and then crash on your shared bed, making you stir from your rest. She sleepily curls her body into yours, peppering the warmest smooches wherever(probably with her eyes closed or half-way, at least) and muttering out apologies for waking you in the most ethereal voice known to woman-kind (it's raspy and the one she uses during sex when she's attempting to be a good top).

A/N: Thank you everyone for over 500 followers! I hope to post some longer fics this week or at least some more arcane fics. I promised some Jinx content, hopefully that'll be soon. Love you all.

#tlou2 #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie smut #ellie x y/n #the last of us part 2 #ellie x fem reader #lesbian #lesbian sex

912 notes · View notes

theseinfernalangels · 1 month ago

Text

Heavenly - Bodhi Durran

Synopsis: Four times in which you almost kissed Bodhi, and one where he did it for you.

Includes: Fluff, angst, Reader has some issues, maybe a teeny bit suggestive at the end? Friends to lovers, almost a relationship but not quite, mutual pining. Takes place mostly during Fourth Wing and ends in Iron Flame.

A/N: AUGH this is my baby. I’m in love with this one guys. Also, pretend what I wrote about Tyrrish culture is 100% canon and not totally made up for the vibes.

You always liked the snow.

It was gorgeous; the little white specks of frost glided through the air with what looked like practiced ease, littering your flight leathers with faint, watery markings. You enjoyed the fact that it was silent, unlike the rain, which sometimes made entirely too much noise for your liking — it made it so much easier for you to sit on a distant windowsill and stare into space for what felt like hours at a time. Unnervingly, you also liked how it bit at you, the cold. You’d lay in the snow with your lightest leathers on just to feel the wet chill sink into your bones instead of dry, all-consuming heat that seemed to trail you wherever you went.

Most of all, you like the sight in front of you: Bodhi Durran, in his tall, tawny glory, looking particularly…pretty with little flurries settled in his dark curls. A small part of you aches to run your hands through them, to knock the speckles out — but, you decide, he looks like the pinnacle of perfection like this.

Said man peers down at you with a look of cool concern. “You’re going to freeze,” he accuses.

You smile serenely, your eyes tracking the falling flakes as they descend upon you both.

“Maybe,” you reply. “It would be worth it, to stay out here.”

At once, Bodhi’s eyes soften. He knew your ordeal with heat and fire all too well.

“Still,” he chides, slipping a toned arm around your waist and pulling you into him. “C’mere. I’d prefer it if you didn’t get hypothermia because you like to stand in negative temperatures without your flight jacket.”

You tense for a moment before slowly allowing yourself to melt into his warm embrace, bracing your face on his chest as you both watched how the snow fell in the late-January sky. No words were needed between the two of you when all you needed were gentle touches and the chilly air.

You feel his eyes on you, so you reluctantly peel your face away from his jacket and tilt your head up to face him. Predictably, he’s smiling — but not a full on grin like usual. No, he’s wearing a smile of pure fondness as his gaze meets yours. You can’t help but catch your eyes on his lips, though; Bodhi has always been handsome, even as a younger boy, but the atmosphere combined with his fuller features make him look downright ethereal.

“A penny for your thoughts?” he prompts you gently, nudging you in the ribs.

The touch makes you flinch a little before you straighten and raise your chin. “How much to keep them in?” you challenge.

He chuckles and raises his free hand innocently. “You got me there. Just wanted to know what’s got your eyes all hazy.”

You barely noticed it; your eyes, although you’d been observing the snow keenly, were less focused on the environment around you and more in tune with the shape of his mouth, the little scar on his lower lip, how his mouth moved when he smiled…

How his pretty lips would feel on yours.

You hum. “Nothing much. Just daydreaming again, I guess.”

Silence. Waiting.

“And,” you add, “the weather is making my eyes water.”

Bodhi lets out an exasperated but affectionate huff and moves away from you briefly to peel his flight jacket off and sling it around your shoulders.

“You know,” he drawls, “you’d think being a Wingleader would establish some sort of self-preservation in you.”

Instantly, you’re enveloped into pure heat, but not the kind that usually bothers you. No, this heat is warm and velvety, soothing in a way that is purely Bodhi.

“Nah,” you reply with the faintest trace of a satisfied grin. “Quite the opposite, actually. It makes you willing to risk everything for this sort of stuff.”

You keep it vague.

This sort of stuff.

The peace you feel as you watch snow fall like ashes.

The chance to have a quiet moment for once in your too-chaotic lives.

The moment of clarity you feel when you stare at Bodhi and pray to yourself, “Loial, I’ve had too much taken from me already. Please do not touch him, too.”

༘⋆༄.°⋆

The air around you is charged and slightly humid as you watch a pair of first-years, two boys, fling each other to the padded ground of the sparring gym. It’s rough, hard, and ruthless…Everything you’ve come to enjoy about training at Basgiath.

It’s usually easy to predict who will come out on top with these sorts of matches. One of the guys, Cael McCleary, had clearly been holding back out of pure nervousness when he stepped onto the mat. You sympathize with him — but you also know that sympathy would get him nowhere, especially against a man like Jamilian Sirko, who you’re pretty sure is half war cannon the way he towers over almost all of the cadets here like a bull in a china shop.

Surprisingly, though, McCleary holds his own against Sirko, using his anxious energy as a means of dodging and weaving faster than the taller boy is able to strike. It’s impressive, no doubt about it — but it’s also a test of endurance. Where Sirko is strong and built like a great wall of pure, dark muscle mass, he can’t use that to his advantage against McCleary, a lithe and reedy guy, for much longer before he eventually tires out. Neither of the two look like they’re ready to drop, though — not by a long shot.

You sigh. Looks like you’d be here for a while.

“Good, you two!” you call from your place on the side. “Hurry it up a little, would you? You’re the only thing preventing your squad mates from leaving.”

A quiet brush of footsteps behind you tells you that someone has come to stand by you for the time being — Bodhi, as told by his gleaming grin.

“Look at you, being all commanding,” he greets you, drawing out the last word dramatically. “Gods, how long have they been going for?”

You break your gaze away from the fighting cadets to glance over at the clock on the wall. It’s 11:23.

“I think we’re going on fifteen minutes now,” you murmur. “McCleary is really trying to drag this out to get Sirko down. I can’t say I like the timing, but I do admire his strategy.” You pause. “What are you doing here?”

Bodhi nods, his gaze turning analytical. “Of course,” he adds, completely ignoring your question. “I think he needs to find a place to end it. A good kick to the back of the knees or even the throat would do Sirko in good.”

You’re about to repeat yourself and insist he answer your question when a flash of silver catches your eye — a small dagger being slid from the sideline towards the sparring cadets, its hilt extended to where Sirko would most easily be able to snatch it, if he had the balls.

You freeze. Bodhi nudges you gently with his elbow. “What did they agree to beforehand?”

McCleary, although his fingers twitched anxiously, raised his chin and nodded to his friend, who held three small knives between his fingers. “No weapons?” he asked, raising a hand in need of shaking.

Sirko raised an eyebrow before smiling easily, grasping McCleary’s hand with practiced ease. “No weapons,” he repeated, sealing the deal before they backed away from each other in waiting.

“Oi! Break it up, both of you,” you call over to the boys, who are panting and looking a little more than eager to finish it. You gesture to the little blade that both cadets have yet to notice pick up. “Were you not paying attention to their terms? No weapons for this round. I don’t want to see that shit again.” You quickly use your signet to bend the air around the blade and bring it to you for you to grab.

You sweep it to your outstretched hand and inspect the knife. It’s indistinguishable, really, with no remarkable hilt or quality.

Little tendrils of wind spin the blade by its hilt before you sigh and clear your throat again.

“That’s enough, you two,” you yell over to McCleary and Sirko. “I appreciate your persistence and endurance, but a match should be over before the twenty minute-mark. Good on both of you.”

A tide of complaints and cheers arise from the sideline, and you stalk over to the first-years with a little look of disapproval on your face.

You hold up the knife so they can all see it. “Who was it?” you ask with a scowl. “They agreed on no weapons, and if you think I’ll let attempts to cheat slide, then you’re sorely mistaken. Tell me who it was and I might even let you walk out of here with all your joints intact.”

The first-years all look jolted for a moment before one is pushed to the front — Opal Keenan. She’s pretty, with flame-red hair that must reach to the small of her back when it’s not in a entirely too-complicated braid. She looks embarrassed for a moment before she schools her face into a look of pure ignorance.

“Please,” she sneers. “Anyone would have been grateful if someone picked it up and used it. Preferably Jamilian — McCleary was bound to lose anyway.”

You immediately bristle, raising your chin and fixing an icy glare on the cadet.

“Did I ask who you preferred to win?” you snap. “No, Keenan. If you wanted to see the outcome of the match, you should have considered the consequences of trying to aid a cadet in cheating. The crime you’ve just committed is easily punishable, you know. I’d hate to have to carry out the consequences myself.”

Keenan’s taunting smile widens. “A crime?” she mocks, earning a few glares and hisses from the cadets around her. “That’s rich coming from you, you traitorous bitch. I bet your father—“

Her words are cut off swiftly, and you know it’s because Bodhi has come to stand behind you, standing tall and angrily from a few steps back.

“I’m sorry,” he says sharply, pinning Keenan in place with a glare that looks too unnatural for his warm, brown eyes. “Did you not hear your Wingleader? Cheating on either side of a match is punishable by a dishonorable discharge at its lightest. You should be glad she hasn’t already gone to Emetterio to report this. In fact, I should go do that right now. You’re a shameful example of a cadet, Keenan.”

Keenan opens her mouth again, probably to jeer at you again, before she’s cut off again, this time by you.

“I don’t want to hear that shit out of your mouth again. That’s strike two for you. Test me a third time, and I’ll have no trouble letting Leadership know that you’re interfering with matches and being a downright bitchhead to your squadmates and Wingleader.”

For good measure, you allow your power to flow out of you just a little, little tendrils of air wrapping around Keenan’s throat. She startles and lets out a little choked whimper, losing all of her bravado in what feels like milliseconds. You could kill her like this, if you really wanted to — but you feel a warm hand splay on the small of your back protectively, so you lighten it up just a little. “Do I make myself clear, cadet?”

Keenan nods as quickly as she opened her mouth before you release her after a few seconds of drawing it out, just for your own benefit. She stumbles back with a gasp, her hand flying to her throat and staring at you in horror. You just meet her eyes head-on, steely and cold.

“You’re all dismissed,” you order in a low voice. “And keep this in the back of your minds. I don’t care if you think I’m a traitor or not, but if you think you can get away scot-free with cheating in a match for a reason as stupid as that, then you’re clearly not cut out for this quadrant.”

The first-years waste no time in clearing out of the sparring gym, either because of your order or because they don’t want to be the next one choked out by a Wingleader. Opal Keenan is out first, running like the cowardly little bitch she is, and everyone follows, shooting you looks of fear, surprise, and surprisingly enough, a few grins from the people who agreed that the ginger cadet needed some humbling. You sigh and scrub a hand over your face, suddenly exhausted.

The hand on the small of your back wraps around your waist, pulling you into a chest of taut muscle before Bodhi winds his other arm around you, essentially trapping you against him. His chin comes to rest on your shoulder.

“You handled that really well,” he tells you in a soft voice. “Do you deal with that every day?”

You lean back into him a little. “Not really,” you reply, fixing your eyes out the window and staring into the late-morning sky. “Usually they know to keep their mouths shut around me. I guess someone just wanted to be bold today.”

His quiet snicker by your ear sends a rush of warmth down the skin of your neck. It dies, though, once he catches the edge of your expression.

“Hey,” he prompts. “You want me to tell Emetterio? I’m sure he’ll dish something deserving out for Keenan as soon as he hears.”

You mull over the thought for a few moments before shaking your head. “No. I’m not going to tattle on a first-year just for being a little too uppity. I can handle it.”

Bodhi’s thumb strokes the leather over your stomach idly. “You can,” he affirms. “And you did. You’re strong as hell, Levine.”

His voice lowers. “But I wouldn’t mind kicking her ass if you asked me to.”

You snort and gently jab him in the side with an elbow, only being met by a sputtered protest. “I appreciate the offer,” you assure him. “But I’m gonna let someone else do it in their own time.” You go quiet for a moment before you remember your conversation just a little bit earlier.

“Bodhi,” you grab his attention again, twisting out of his hold to stare at him. “What are you even doing here? This isn’t your squad, and it’s definitely not your wing.”

“So?” he huffs, backing up a little to give you some room. “I’m on break, and I wanted to see you.”

Oh, Amari bless his heart. Bodhi was probably the only man who would ever do such a thing for you. And the way he looks at you right now, like him hunting you down in the middle of your duties was the most obvious thing he could be doing right now, makes you almost brave enough to stand on your toes and press a grateful peck against his cheek.

You restrain yourself.

“Fair enough,” you concede, and he grins sweetly. “But it’s —“ You turn and glance back at the clock. “11:45. Don’t you have to be at land-nav by 11:50?”

His face falls immediately. “Oh, fuck.”

༘⋆༄.°⋆

The only two things keeping you awake at a time like this is your dragon’s gentle reassurances in your ear, and the fact that you haven’t seen Bodhi in approximately 27 hours. You lay in a long-sleeved slip, glaring at the moon through your window.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Zephyr,” Spéir rumbles. For once, she is less proud and more…sisterly, in a way. “I know you are worrying about the Bright One.”

“…And if I am?” you ask, your mental voice coming out more passive-aggressive than you mean to. “Am I wrong for it?”

A low chuckle ripples through the bond. “Of course not,” Spéir replies. “You are mine, Zephyr, but before I chose you, he was within your grasp and kept in the inner workings of your heart. He is your human no more than you are mine. No need to jump to his defense.”

You sigh in frustration, tearing your eyes away from the glow of the moon before you stare at the door. If you had it your way, Bodhi would be sleeping right next to you, his curls spilling down his face messily as he dreamed. But he wasn’t next to you — and you had a sneaking suspicion as to why.

As if your thoughts had caused it, a faint rapping at your door draws your attention. You flick your wrist to summon a mage light, the glow a soft lavender, before you slip out of your bed and creep towards the door.

“Is it—“

“Yes. He came straight for you.”

You rip the door open, and sure enough, Bodhi leans against the threshold, his battered body looking like he’ll fall at any moment.

He stares at you, slightly dazed, before he manages a breathy whisper.

“A thaisce. I’m sorry, but—“

You cut him off by tugging him through the door and pushing a small breeze out to shut the door quietly. You push him over to your bed, urging him to sit on your soft sheets. His knees practically fold in on themselves, making your heart ache. You feel more awake and alert now than you have since he disappeared.

“Easy,” you murmur. “Hey, mhuirnín, easy. Don’t apologize. I take it you just had RSC, huh?”

His gaze meets yours, and for the first time in a long time, he looks exactly like he did when he was a child: Nervous, disoriented, and exhausted.

“Is that what that was?” he asks hoarsely, grabbing at your hands to run his thumbs up and down your wrists. “I thought they would just…I don’t know, have us take notes about it.” He inhales sharply. “But one moment, I’m heading here, and the next, I’m tied up and hazy and our signets aren’t working and Cuir won’t talk to me—“

You hush him, coming to stand in between his legs and running a hand through his tousled hair. “It was the water,” you explain gently. “They drug you to dull the bond so it’s as realistic as possible.”

You crouch a little, forcing him to meet your eyes while you inspect his body for any intensive damage. To your surprise, he looks relatively unharmed past extensive bruising and a split lip. You bring your little tendrils of wind to a warmer temperature and cushion him as you search him. “Anything need to be looked at?”

He shakes his head wearily. “No. They went kind of easy on me. They went after Iris, though. I guess that’s because she has more of a mouth than I do.”

Your eyes narrow, but you say nothing before you do another once-over, just for peace of mind. Bodhi averts his eyes and quietly says, almost sheepishly, “If you want me to go, I can.”

Immediately, you shake your head. “Hell no,” you mutter, nudging his head up with a little breeze. “I’m not letting you leave. I’ve been waiting for you, asshole.”

His face brightens a little, the usual gleam starting to reappear after what must have been hours. “You waited for me?”

“Of course I did.” You scowl a little, nudging his thigh with your own. “I’ll always wait for you, idiot.”

His entire body seems to relax for a few moments before you poke him. “I still have some of your clothes in here. You probably don’t want to shower, but at least change into something comfortable.”

He leans into you in an odd side-hug before rising to his feet. You know he knows his way around your room, so you turn around and close your eyes to let him change without the burden of your intense stare.

“Zephyr,” your dragon prods. “Cuir would like to tell the Bright One that he is here and is sorry that he could not be there.”

“Spéir says that Cuir is sorry he couldn’t be with you,” you tell him, your eyes still squeezed shut. Bodhi looses a rough laugh, and before you know it, the mattress is dipping and he’s tugging you to lay down, now changed into a simple pair of sleep pants and a black shirt. You allow him to pull you down before you grab him in turn and ease his head on to your shoulder, your hands automatically moving to his head to run your fingers through his hair. He shudders appreciatively and wraps a weak arm around your stomach.

The two of you just lay there in the pale lavender light, enjoying the silence of each other’s company. It was unlike Bodhi to be so quiet, but after the ordeal he just went through, you can’t imagine him being lively enough to talk about anything. You resist the urge to dip your head and press your lips to his forehead, although he probably needs the affection right about now.

After what feels like hours of nothing but soft breathing, Bodhi says your name in such a tone that your eyes instantly snap to his.

He hesitates, looking equal parts pleading and embarrassed. “Can you…talk to me? In the Old Language, I mean. I-I don’t care what it’s about.”

You barely suppress an affectionate coo before you nod, smoothing your hands over his back. “Of course,” you say in Tyrrish, your tone growing a tad bit higher-pitched in your native tongue. “I’m proud of you, you know? You look barely scathed, mo laochain.”

His breath catches a little, and you feel a pang of adoration hit you in the gut as he tucks his face into your neck.

“I don’t feel very strong right now,” he admits. “I feel like I could’ve done something to help. To divert attention from the others so they wouldn’t be as hurt.”

“Hey, no,” you say firmly, rubbing his shoulders with a surprising gentleness. “I’m glad you didn’t. I don’t care if that makes me sound selfish, but I’m glad they went easiest on you. Amari knows I’d lose my cool if they did anything else.”

Bodhi stifles a laugh, and then a small groan of pain. You extend a warm cloud to rest over him and ripple over his cuts and bruises.

“Easy,” you say again. “Do not move too much. We’ll go see the healers tomorrow and see what they can do for you — probably more than I can, at least.”

The younger boy’s head rises from the crook of your neck so he can stare at you, his exhaustion apparent in his half-lidded eyes.

“None of that,” he scolds you, as if he’s not the one laying in your arms right now. “You do more for me than any of them could attest to. That’s why I came here and not there with the others.”

“Besides,” he adds, “I missed you. I don’t know how I went years without talking to you, because I think I was going insane by the fifth or sixth hour they kept us.”

For a moment, all you see is him. Not your bedroom, not the glow of your mage light or the moon, and certainly not the silhouettes of roaming dragons out your window. The only two people here, who exist in real time and space, are the both of you. You lean your head to lay against his and ghost your lips right above his ear — the closest thing to kissing him that you’ll allow yourself.

“Well, you’re here now,” you assure him. “And we can talk as much as you need. You should probably sleep, though. I need my favorite person to be somewhat alive tomorrow so that I can keep myself sane.”

Something closer to an actual laugh, a Bodhi Laugh, finally leaves him, making a smile of your own grace your lips.

“Right, Wingleader,” he says in mock-submission. “You talk so I don’t go mad, and I’ll sleep so you don’t, either. Sound like a plan?”

You flick him in the shoulder blade, but it’s not out of annoyance — more like, in your opinion, thankfulness, because you know what you need at a time like this, alone and in need of someone to lean on.

“Deal, mhuirnín.”

༘⋆༄.°⋆

The sun blazes in your eyes, nearly blinding you in the late July heat. Your head rests on Bodhi’s thigh, his fingers sifting through your hair softly as the two of you watch the sun set on Navarre.

Bodhi looks down at you and frowns, moving his hand from your head to splay it directly in your line of vision. Your eyes flit to his, and he shrugs. “It would really suck if you went blind on your birthday.”

You make a small noise of understanding and smile, curling into him a little more. “Happy birthday to me; I get an honorable discharge.”

Bodhi grins and resumes his motions in your hair, taking care to try and keep the sun out of your face. “I think you mean dishonorable,” he corrects you, “since you going blind is completely preventable if you’d just keep your eyes away from the sun.”

You scowl and shoot a lick of ice cold air down his tunic, causing him to emit a soft shriek of surprise. He glares down at you and flicks your forehead.

“Not funny,” he pouts. “Dammit, Levine, that was cold.”

You try and keep your face still, but the stoicism is short-lived as a smile of pure delight takes its hold on you.

“My bad,” you bluff, staring at him with absolutely no shame whatsoever. “I was aiming for your head.”

Bodhi’s eyes narrow, and you know instantly that he’s about to try to pin you into the grass. You roll out of the way with a yelp, but he’s always been just a tad bit faster than you, so he’s upon you in an instant, wrestling you to the ground while all you can do is hold him off of you. After a few moments of struggle, his hands clamp down on your shoulders, and you’re flat on your back before you know it. The position you’re in is unfamiliar; one hand cradles the back of your head so that it doesn’t slam into the ground, while the other holds him up over you. He’s close — closer than what you’re used to, his nose just an inch or two above yours. His eyes fall to your lips, and he swallows before murmuring, “Got you.”

Your cheeks heat up at the proximity, and you involuntarily sent another brush of wind down his back — this time, more gentle, something of a more affectionate nature that you rarely show. You force yourself to blink and ignore the fact that he’s quite literally eyeing you like he wants nothing more than to slam his mouth on to yours.

You stick your tongue out at him. “You had an advantage. I was unprepared.”

He breaks from his staring and snorts, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “Right,” he says dryly. “An advantage. You can call it that, sure.”

You scowl but don’t say anything. It feels a little awkward, seeing as he won’t move from his position above you. You don’t dislike it — not by a long shot — but what’s a girl to do when she’s pinned under her best friend (who she definitely doesn’t want to kiss. Not at all.)?

Bodhi blinks as if coming out of a trance before he clears his throat awkwardly and lets you up, leaning back to sit down. You roll up into a sitting position and lean into him. He feels a little stiffer — probably from prior awkwardness, akin to that of the same nature from when you both were tweens and he was still visibly nervous around you. He’s quiet for a second before he starts.

“So,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I know you said you didn’t want anything for your birthday...”

You go still. “You didn’t.”

He waves his hand as if to dismiss your protest. “It’s not big,” he insists, reaching into his pocket. “I know you don’t like gifts very much, and you get overwhelmed by big gestures. I just wanted to do something, since this is your twenty-third birthday.”

In Tyrrish culture, 23 was the age where you were officially considered a woman — not in the physical sense, but in the spiritual sense. It was the aois na laochra, the age of a warrior. You’d almost forgotten about it, since you’d barely taken note of your birthday since your sixteenth — the last birthday you’d been able to have with your entire family.

Your eyes soften, and you swallow the lump in your throat that threatens to make it crack before you respond. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Bodhi shoots you an easy smile. “I know,” he replies casually. “But I wanted to. I wanted to keep the tradition alive, even if you’re the only one it happens for.”

He pulls out what was hidden in his pocket — a small wooden box — and drops it into your palm. “Open it.”

Your thumb brushes against the wood — cherry, sanded and smooth — and on the initials that are carved into the top with a delicateness that’s more than impressive. You have a feeling you know who did this part, and Bodhi confirms it. “He didn’t ask for anything in return.”

You smile before taking a deep breath in and slowly opening the box, your hands a little shaky from the nerves that plague you. Your breath hitches, and you blink down at what lays inside the box: A small ring of onyx with a glittering red gem in the middle. Your fingers hesitantly touch it, and Bodhi is suddenly closer to you, rushing to explain.

“I know you don’t really like big things, so I settled for this. The band is onyx, and the gem is garnet, your birthstone.”

He pauses. “Turn it over?”

You raise an eyebrow but do it anyway, hooking your index finger into the ring and bringing it out so you can turn it to the other side.

You choke out a gasp when you see what he’s nudging you towards, tears previously left unshed brimming in your waterline.

A knight. Two twin wildcats. It’s your family’s coat of arms — the one you haven’t seen in close to ten years.

You swallow again, your voice breaking. “Bodhi—“

“Hey,” he says gently, pulling you into his lap with practiced ease. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I just thought it’d be nice, so you could have a piece of them on you whenever you wanted.”

You couldn’t even begin to imagine where he found the time to find something like this, to put the sheer effort in accomplishing something like this.

For once, you don’t care. You just bury your head in his shoulder and allow yourself to sob quietly, shivering when his hands come up to cradle you to his chest.

“Thank you,” you whisper to him in Tyrrish. “Thank you.”

His heart twists, and he clutches you ever closer to him. “Anything for you.”

༘⋆༄.°⋆

Bodhi’s heart pounds in his ears as he runs through the halls of Riorson House, blood spilling into his mouth from just how hard he’d bitten his lip just a few minutes beforehand. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t have time — not when he’s got a very important matter to attend to.

Xaden had scared the shit out of him when he’d suddenly appeared from what felt like out of nowhere, his dark eyes huge and sparkling.

“Bodhi,” he’d breathed. “She’s here. Go to her.” It didn’t take a genius to know just who he was talking about, and Bodhi had taken off in a flash, abandoning whatever the hell he’d been doing for Jesinia in her little bookish habitat. His legs couldn’t push him faster, and he suddenly wished he could wield distance like Garrick, so he could get outside much faster than the rate he had going for him.

“Cuir,” he gasps, tugging on the string of his bond. “Is it true? Is she here?”

The dragon lets out an affirming rumble. “Yes, Gréine; Spéir and the girl are injured, but they have returned from Morraine alive.”

If it’s at all possible, Bodhi forces his legs to work harder, pump faster, to book it outside with hardly a glance behind him. He finally bursts through the front entrance and skids on the stone path, whipping his head around to look for you — his girl, his love, his light. He spots Spéir first, her massive black form standing tall next to two other dragons. One of her wings is bloody, and some of her scales have been ripped clean off, but she looks relatively fine other than that.

Then, he spots you and books it toward you, not giving damns nor shits about the three dragons that aren’t his that surround you. You’ve barely looked up once he makes it to you, throwing himself into you and pulling you protectively into his chest.

Nine months. It’s been nine months since you’ve been stationed in Morraine. Nine months of not seeing or speaking to you. He doesn’t know how he could stand it.

Your arms crush him into a hug, and your knees almost buckle from the sheer force of how you hold each other.

He holds you like it’s the last time he ever will, like every promise he’s ever made and will ever make is sealed into your skin with every fleeting second that he presses into your form. No one could take you from him if they tried — not a general’s orders, not even Malek, if he could help it.

You pull away, and he finally gets a good look at you. You’re gorgeous, as always, even with scars lining your jaw and blood covering your face. He doesn’t think he’s seen a more wonderful sight in his life. He presses his forehead to yours, searching your eyes for…Well, just about anything. He’ll take everything and anything he can get from you.

“Bodhi,” you whisper, his name falling from your lips reverently. “Gods, I don’t—“

Your eyes widen as he silences you. Not with words, though; your lips are sealed the moment he grabs your jaw and slams his mouth on to yours, effectively shutting you up. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

His lips are chapped and bloody, courtesy of how hard he bit them earlier, but the metallic tang is the last thing on your mind as he kisses you fiercely and desperately, like you’re his oasis in a desert of nothingness. His light in a vast ocean of shadow. Your lungs burn from the lack of breath, but you don’t have it in you to care, not when he’s kissing you like this.

He finally breaks away after what feels like forever and nothing and presses his forehead back to yours, wiping some of the blood on your face with a calloused finger.

“A thaisce,” he whispers in the Old Language, long-suppressed tears running down his cheeks at the mere sight of your face. “Mo leannan. Mo Shíorghrá. I am never letting you leave my side ever again. Never again. I promise.”

Tyrrendor is where Bodhi grew up, and Basgiath is where he became a man, but in your arms, with your lips locked with his? Bodhi has never felt more at home.

#the empyrean #fourth wing #iron flame #onyx storm #fourth wing imagines #bodhi durran fluff #bodhi durran #bodhi fourth wing #bodhi durran x reader #bodhi x reader #Bodhi x Freya #bodhi durran x oc

349 notes · View notes

muqingslover · 2 months ago

Note

Hii!! Love your writing!!

I wanted to ask if you have any hc about the lads men as fathers? For example, my hc was that Xavier is a boy dad that makes sure his kid will not end up listening to those "alpha podcasts" because he sets the example of a gentle yet "i slayed over 70,000 wanderers", kind yet assertive man. HOWEVER, since the level 175 affinity interaction came out, I'm 100% hes a girl dad raising his daughter to be a strong and independent woman (like the MC he loves dearly). What do you think?

[ my first ask! yahooo! thank you, pookie! I'll give you my thoughts in general (a big mix of everything) but if anyone wants one of the boys in more detail then feel free to ask because I have more to share! ]

Alright maybe this is a hot take but I don't think he wants children, like at all.

Xavier does NOT like sharing. He's literally jealous of himself for goodness sake and he really, reaaaally, does not want to share you, especially not with clingy children that would take almost if not all of your attention and also his sleep.

In-game he's also shown to not be super fond of children in general which I find hilarious.

He's lived a long life, sacrificed everything and everyone for you, and spent the rest of his years searching for you. He believes he has the right to be a bit selfish and keep you to himself. Let's be honest, he's earned it.

He does want children, but he is the type to plan for it. And I mean *plan*.

Out of everyone, he understands the best what it means for both your body and mental health the changes pregnancy would bring (including the chance of postpartum depression and other complications) so there would be a looooong discussion before anything happened.

When putting together the nursery it's like he's preparing for the apocalypse and not a baby "We might need this" (you won't be needing it), "This was made with [chemical], it could be toxic for you or the baby." "Zayne, it's just a plastic spoon."

Absolutely not as cool as he leads you to believe. You have this man stressed™ but he is so, soooo patient.

He'd be very serious about follow-up appointments and he'll make time for the both of you no matter what.

GIRL DAD ! GIRL DAD ! GIRL DAD !

100% victim of waking up covered in silly drawings and bows in his hair but he says before him than his poor white walls.

You have your hands full monitoring these two that love to sneak around and stuff their cheeks full like hamsters with sweets.

Now this man wants a whole LITTER if you'll let him.

Hear me out: TRIPLETS. Oooor, twins with a younger sibling right after. Maybe one more if you are really brave.

This was not planned at all, but when you tell him he's so happy he'd be in actual tears while hugging you.

Luke and Kieran are over the moon about it too. They'd be so cute with the children because they get to be big bros now and they take their role very seriously.

Sylus would pull out his phone or coat and it would be covered in cute stickers. He takes no action in getting rid of it though because he loves it.

Those children are S P O I L E D. You have to take the role of saying no otherwise he'd take over the world just because his baby asked to be queen of the world on a random Thursday.

I think he's on the same boat as Xavier but for different reasons.

I have some...perhaps...controversial takes on this little guy in general so I'll leave it open for your interpretation hehe

love him though<3

I know I know everyone says he'd be the best girl dad but PLEASE pleaaaase give this man a little boy.

If you think women's baby fever are bad just wait until you see Caleb's

He would draw on your belly bump where he thinks the baby is and talk to him even while you're asleep

This guy is taking lessons about pregnancy, how to support you during birth and he is 100% in one of those moms group chat.

"Caleb we do not need another onesie—" "But look! Look how cute it is! Oh, and the little hat? C'mon angel, please?" (Ban him from shopping by himself because he comes back with WAY too many things you do not need)

He loves and I mean LOVES matching clothes. From silly costumes, to pajamas and outside outfits.

So. Many. Pictures. He takes pictures all the time to keep them as memories because if something were to happen where you or he lost their memories again then they'd forever be preserved :(

[ I have so much more to say about this but maybe I'll just make a separate post for each of them ]

425 notes · View notes

atrirose · 8 months ago

Text

⠀⠀⠀ ONLY FOR YOU ε🪴⁺ you making them flustered

synopsis : things you do that makes them flustered

ft . bf ! enha x f ! r cw. kissing, skinship .. sfw, fluff ✶ wc. 1k ◜ ◝ seiu : hope you enjoy ^^ its the enha pov of my pervious post that ik i did long back but its alright.

HEESEUNG

his hearts melt when you reassure him, tell him you are proud of him or compliment him, he is a sucker for it, could be any moment and he would just turn into a puddle for it.

he looked at you in disbelief as you emptied his portion of cake that he baked “yn, that was mine you already had yours” he pout, on the verge of tears “baby you baked so good it was so yummy i couldn’t control myself sorry but you are such a great cook” if he had a tail it would have been wagging right now “you think so? oh my okay you know what i will make more for you, im glad you liked it” he rubbed his cheeks on yours , while you celebrated escaping that.

“i’m proud of you hee” you plop yourself next to him as he put his head down on your lap “you did great out there” after a long day work these words are his favorite to hear, it makes it all worth it. he looks at you big eyed

“you make everything fade into the background”

JAY

pda and sweet or flirty messages always gets him smiling, though jay likes to keep it nonchalant and cool on the exterior but if you hold his hand or kiss his cheek in the public his ears will turn read despite his best efforts to stay cool “we are in public my love” he whispers “so what” you smile.

also giggles when you text him, tries his best to not show or answer your text in a fraction of a second and focus on his work but he fails miserably everytime “today was so tiring, i want to stay home with you always” collapses on you, hugging you tight “and you are a meanie too, teasing me like that” you giggled at his whiny voice “you can always come home jay”

“i could spend a lifetime just watching you.”

JAKE

being centre of attention by you, he loves attention but from you only, it makes him giddy “then this step was a little difficult but i worked hard on it, so i guess im good now, maybe?” you were doing your work but jake bust in to show his new dance to you so of course you had to give up everything and watch him “it’s really clean jake you did a great job” you got up from the sofa and pecked his cheek.

his whole face got red, not like you haven’t kissed his cheek before but nothing gets him like you sweet compliments and your dreamy eyes giving him 100 percent of your attention, even if he is trying to pull something stupid.

“i must be dreaming because there's no way you're real.”

SUNGHOON

wearing clothes he picked out, sunghoon takes pride in knowing his girl better than anyone, no surprise he picks up on your dislikes and likes, he tries his best to style something that makes you feel like the most beautiful “i was out yesterday and i thought this white dress would look great on but then i saw this necklace and then i thought its the prefect match so here” he smiles,“thank you so much i love these kind of dresses you know me so well” you hug him, inner him is jumping and rolling.

“i’m ready hoon let’s go” he turns back to see you wearing the dress he bought you “oh my goodness, how can you look so beautiful effortlessly” you giggle at his compliments, he is a gone case, a loser if you may, for you. totally smitten and starstruck.

“how am I supposed to look at anything else after seeing you like this?”

SUNOO

loves handmade gift, it gets his heart racing, he feels the most special when you sit to crochet after learning it online, even though the heart bag looks more like a square he would accept it lovingly, in fact he is the most happiest you would ever see him, he would be seen with that bag at every given moment “i love it no please” he said as you tried to take back the bag “but it’s embarrassing sunoo” , he is the type to have all your handmade cards and notes stacked in a box, polaroids of you and him, all your favorite memories to look back to.

“anything you make for me is never embarrassing, i will treasure everything with my whole heart”

JUNGWON

making direct eye contact or looking at him heart eyes when he is talking, nothing gets him all blushing mess, ears red, hiding his face like you do, you always look at him lovingly, humming and nodding, listening carefully. randomly touching his cheeks or tucking his hair behind his ears, gracing his ears “go on hun”

“no” he said burying his head in his hands, all flustered and red “why not” you giggled “because you are teasing me” he huffed glaring at you “stop playing yn”

“sorry won you just look so beautiful when you talk” you bite his cheeks “ow meanie” — “what were you going to say”

“you are so stunning i forgot what i was going to say”

RIKI

pulling him by his tie to kiss him , him being tall is extra fun when he can tease you when you try to kiss him “riki please” you tip toe to reach his lips only for him to smirk and not help you “please what yn?” you pout at his smug face boasting his height “bend down” you pulled on his tie which caught him off guard, your lips smacked on his.

his hands snaked around your waist to pull you closer him, your body flushed with his, your hands still gripping his tie “you can really make anything possible huh?” he giggled , cheeks red “you can let my tie go now” he tired to free his tie trying to hide the fact his heart is beating so fast “now you get how it feels to me teased” his hands still on your waist, he kissed your cheeks.

“how did i get so luck to be with someone like you”

1K notes · View notes

cartersblogabtnothing · 4 months ago

Text

i’m sure we’ve all read at least one or two “peter parker in gotham” fanfics. they’re a personal favorite, especially when they’re done well. and i do get why peter is always in gotham, but…

…why not put one of the batkids in peter’s new york? i think it’d be interesting.

my personal favorite is tim drake, but i do think any of the batkids would be absolute comedic gold. here’s why:

dick would’ve 100% “fallen” into some portal during a fight and ended up in new york. at first he thought it was just that, the portal teleported him into new york. whatever. that’s like a regular tuesday for him.

but then he saw some news program (“The Daily Bugle”) talking about some… Spider-man guy that dick’s never seen! never heard of! who the fuck was this guy and where is dick!?

he momentarily freaks the fuck out before giving himself a mission; find out where the fuck he is and then get back home. easy enough. he’s been stranded before. it should be easy for him to get back home.

at least he thinks so, until he bumps into the aforementioned Spider-man guy, who is surprisingly friendly despite the strange way they move. guess the spider thing was fr.

they bond over acrobatics while peter is attempting to figure out how to build a teleporter (he figures it out quicker than expected and spends far too much time styling it)

jason was on a mission with the outlaws, and one thing led to another and now he and the rest of his team had been teleported to different locations.

he had assumed that bullshit ray gun was some dollar general version of the big stuff until he walks head first into a humongous spiderweb that sticks to his helmet.

jason fucking hates spiders.

he freaks out (duh) and yanks his helmet off and stumbles away, staring at the way it just… hangs there… and suddenly he knew for a fact he wasn’t supposed to be there.

he looks around for a while after that, helmet-less and confused as all fuck. he thinks distantly that maybe he could just restart here. no joker, no batman, no nightwing, no responsibilities. he could make it work.

on his walk, he comes across a mugging. he attempts to get in there, of course, but he’s completely outgunned by some soft-looking fuck in red spandex.

red spandex! what the fuck!

the red-spandex person cleans the mugging up swiftly, and then they turn around to see jason there. they freeze, their mask scrunching up.

jason tries to shoot at them, but his hands get webbed to the wall before he could even reach into his pants.

he’s mildly impressed.

tim is completely whelmed when he just… disappears on his walk back to the manor after school. there’s no portal, no laser beam, no spell… he just… trips once and then falls through the sidewalk. it was so fucking weird.

he’s caught off guard as he’s spit back up from the other side, coughing and heaving breath after breath into his lungs as he takes in his surroundings. he’s in some bad smelling alleyway, and he could feel at least three other people near him.

he’s in a loud, busy city with tall buildings and aggressive crowds. it’s too bright to be Gotham and too gloomy to be Metropolis.

where is he?

he stands shakily, brushing himself off before looking around again. more focused this time, though. he focuses on his location.

he turns to see a homeless man staring, and before he could even open his mouth, the man screams before hissing at him and running the opposite way.

what the fuck?

he tosses his hands in the air before getting cut off by a snort, and he whips around to see a lean, thin, soft-looking person in red and blue spandex. their face is covered by a mask, but even then their mask is so animated that tim feels immediately impressed.

“you scared jimmy.” the person says simply, tilting their head.

“you scared me.” tim responds, tilting his head slightly to mirror them. they laugh, their white eyes narrowing.

“you’re not from around here,” the person says slowly, leaning forward slightly. “let me guess… jersey?”

“huh, how’d you know?” tim snorts, shaking his head.

“accent.” the person shrugs.

the two bond quickly, over everything and nothing at the same time; and they simultaneously figure out that tim is in an alternate dimension and they work together to figure out how to get him home.

by the time tim returns to gotham, he’s picked up more of peter’s spider-like attributes than he’d ever like to admit.

damian doesn’t want to admit that he went head first into a villain’s trap, but… he did.

in his defense, his father did nothing to stop him from doing it. truly, it’s his father’s fault. not his.

he blinks awake to find himself in a puddle, and theres cold rainwater falling onto him and soaking into his suit. it’s uncomfortable, cold, and he feels like curling into a ball and hiding.

but he can’t. he can tell he isn’t in gotham. what if he was somewhere unsafe? he needed to stay vigilant and aware.

he sits up, and immediately feels eyes on him. he looks around, paranoid and on guard.

before he can really understand what’s happening, he sees a person dressed in red spandex hop off what looks like a human sized spider web, landing on their feet with perfect, practiced elegance.

“you’re too young to be dressed like that,” the person begins as they walk closer. “too young to be what you are.”

damian scoffs and stands slowly, hiding a wince as he leans on his left foot. something’s sprained.

“hardly.” damian shakes his head, and the person tilts theirs in response.

“i had a feeling, but i had hoped i was wrong.” the person says softly before walking closer.

the last thing damian remembers before waking up in a warm bed was a warm hand grabbing his arm gently.

the person in red spandex reveals themselves, and they talk. for a while. damian ends up really liking them, especially after they tell damian all about the spider that bit them.

he almost doesn’t want to leave.

while shadow traveling (like in pjo?), duke goes a little too far. he knows he should’ve gone back, but he’s never gone this far and he was so curious it ached.

so he kept going until he walked out the other side, into a very busy alleyway. it smelled of garbage and weed, which didn’t necessarily bother duke but it did tickle his nose slightly.

he decided to figure out where he was first, and then worry about getting back. if he found out a way to get from one timeline to another, then bruce would be extremely grateful to have duke’s abilities on his side.

right?

duke could only hope so.

he walks around for a while, ending up on a very busy sidewalk. he sighs and steps next to a hot dog cart, to which the man stares at him strangely before shrugging and preparing a hot dog. duke goes to refuse, but hears… something in the distance.

he didn’t have time to react before the hot dog cart’s owner held the hot dog out to the street, and a person dressed in red spandex swung past and snatched it up. then, a few seconds later, a five dollar bill was… webbed to the side of the hot dog cart.

duke stared in awe, his eyes wide as he watches the scene. he immediately searches for a library, and immediately begins looking up who this person in red is.

does he forget that he isn’t dressed like a normal civilian half way through? yes. does he fix that? no.

he tracks spider-man down pretty easily, and asks them a million questions all at the same time, to which his mouth gets webbed for. spider-man snorts and answers every single one of his questions.

duke feels so heard it hurts his heart.

he shows spider-man how he did it, bids them farewell after letting spider-man take a picture and several notes of duke’s powers.

duke goes back to gotham feeling light and warm, a smile on his face.

cassandra woke up on a rooftop, feeling sick and tired. she assumed it was some sort of alternate dimensional travel, considering she had been in a space ship beforehand and now she wasn’t.

she uses context clues as well.

the loud bustling streets, the tall but modern buildings, the laughing, the music — none of it is gotham. she knew that very well, but she was still rather confused.

if she wasn’t in space, if she wasn’t in gotham, where was she?

she lets out a silent grunt before slowly sitting, and then standing up. everything hurt. she guessed her spaceship had crashed into some sort of… cosmic ray or portal and she fell out of it. made the most sense.

she looks around slowly, taking in her surroundings like she was taught. she sighs softly when she turns up empty handed, back at square one.

one thing she does notice is the obvious eyes on her. the person isn’t trying to hide, which means she probably in their terf. that isn’t good. not good at all.

cassandra barely turns her head before she feels something pulling at her wrist. looking down, she finds her wrist being tugged by a synthetic spiderweb. it was sticky, silky, and had far too much pull to it.

she twists her arm and pulls on the webs, and then the person comes forward with a heavy step. shiny red and blue spandex fits this person’s body like a glove, and the mask they wear is far too animated to be authentic. must be a function.

the two fight, and as they do cassandra watches the person’s spider-like tendencies. they move with suck fluidity that she feels inferior for the first time in a long time. she’s left in awe, almost.

eventually, she forfeits. she knows when she’s about to lose a fight, when it’s better to stop and give up then die fighting. even if this spider person doesn’t seem hostile, just protective.

“i’m not from here.” she states simply as she’s allowed to stand.

“i know.” the person responds, and cassandra feels more at ease than she did beforehand.

the person - peter takes care of her during her time in new york. gives her a bed, hot food, and even a fake identity for the time being. it works, and eventually she’s back home.

sometimes she tries to mimic peter’s fighting style, but without his abilities, she comes up short.

but the memories are warm and fuzzy and she likes to dream about it.

478 notes · View notes