#it’s so pretty I want it on display but like

[moltengoldveins]

m240 machine gun - I am not here for a long time but by golly I am here for a good time.

that being said, I actually have a pretty complex and detailed zombie apocalypse plan. Really, it shouldn’t be that difficult to handle if the zombies follow most zombie media rules. Heck, even if they DIDNT, I’d still have some damn good plans.

first off, what’s the first fear when dealing with zombies? A bite. Do me a favor. Got any decent denim jeans? Maybe a jacket? Try biting that shit as hard as possible. Not a dent - your teeth aren’t going through that without some work. Same with a few layers of duct tape. Ergo, duct tape the major areas of your body, avoiding the joints to preserve mobility. Wear an under layer, and then loose jeans and a jean jacket. Wrap your hands and wear gloves. Tape your neck and shoulders, then wear a scarf or pick a jacket with a collar. Wear a mask and ideally a ventilator. Depending on how fast and strong the zombies are, that will likely be enough to keep most of them from hurting you before you can fend them off. Use screwdrivers as improvised stabbing weapons, go for eyes or joints, don’t try to get the screwdrivers back. A baseball bat is great, but when dealing with zombies, the best thing to do is just to avoid them, or take them down as expeditiously as possible. Doesn’t matter if they’re still waking - if they can’t see you, they can’t chase you.

second step of the plan? Bicycle. Quiet, easy to maintain and repair, easy to move hide and transport, requires neither gas nor electricity. Basket on the front and side saddle pouches on the back allow for decent storage.

third step of the plan? Find out where the nearest museum is with a display of plate armor. Use perhaps your local library if the internet is already down, they often have useful info, and even if they don’t, they’ll have information on disease prevention and wound treatment. Break in and put it on, ideally over a padded underlayer. Spend a day or two learning how to move in it - it’s designed to fight in, it’s totally possible to do gymnastics in it. Now you are immune to bites and also to a lot of glancing bullet wounds. That’s where the term ‘bulletproof’ came from. A bullet proof. Chest plates were shot, and the dent was proof that the bullet couldn’t break through.

forth step? Home base. If your home is compromised, bike away. You will need a med kit, a fire kit, food, clothes, as many books from the library as you can manage, and some weaponry. Check to see if the armor display had a sword or a mace. Find somewhere abandoned, a house that looks decently insulated. It doesn’t need to have food, that will come later, the important thing is that you’re far enough from a city center to avoid gangs and close enough to still be a part of the community that will inevitably crop up once the gangs are dead or subdued. You’ll want a house with a fireplace and heavy curtains, preferably one not visible from the road. You’ll also want to choose a way to get in that you can easily repair later. You will need to start growing what food you can immediately. This will be greatly aided by information you could access via the library. Until then, a book of edible wild plants, a small stockpile, a lucky break or two with the neighbors’ pantries, and ideally the food you took with you from your house should keep you going. Do not eat any mushrooms. Don’t do it. It’s not worth it.

fifth step? Defenses. This will largely depend on the type of zombie and the terrain you’re dealing with.

Sixth step? Is there a local vet. If so, find out if they’re alive. They probably are. Offer them help, a place to stay, anything youve got that you can spare - they are absolutely going to be vital in the coming days you will need them. Find them as much medical paraphernalia as possible. Set them up somewhere where they won’t be seen.

Seventh step? Choose a skill that will be useful for trade in the coming days and learn it. Beekeeping for honey, weaving for fabric, grow tobacco or plant herbs, learn distillation, tap maple trees. If you know something useful, find a way to apply it. Stockpile whatever you can.

Eigth step? Rabbits or chickens. Good meat animals, the eggs are useful if you’re going poultry. Use what you have on hand for the coop, maybe attach it to the house - defensibility is your friend. Getting them is gonna be a hassle - trade may or may not be possible. Trapping and domesticating them is ideal?

Ninth? You will eventually have to return to civilization. So will everyone else. People don’t tend to get shockingly violent for no reason - most people you find will be trying to do what you’re doing, nothing else. People will most likely begin organizing themselves again. This is good! Offer trade, help when you can.

tenth? Once you’re decently situated, find a hobby. You won’t make it without a hobby. Raid a Michaels and steal all the beads, nobody’s gonna have taken those. Paint, draw, read, write, juggle, birdwatch.

All this being said if you need meds you’re probably fucked in that regard u less you know how to make your meds from scratch or a replacement like them meds are really important and the absolute first target of any apocalypse scenario.

Spin this wheel to get a weapon for a zombie apocalypse.

[the-poets-are-screaming]

Any chance I could get alucard with a reader who's just SO in love with him? Just smitten, kissing all over his face constantly while telling him they love him, staring at him all the time with a lovey-dovey look in their eyes while complimenting him. I'm so in love with this gorgeous man and I feel like he deserves love every millisecond he's alive. God he would be so AAAAAA

Hello dearie!

Disclaimer: i’m merely a writer, i am not a request blog of sorts but i just like writing.

Pov: alucard is YOUR pretty princess.

——————————————————————————

You let Alucard believe he loves you more..

In fact, you love him so much, you let him win the ‘i love you more’ war simply to see that gorgeous smile of his.

The way you word it.. he’s your ‘pretty princess’, despite being a handsome— no, beautiful man.

Oh you admired him..

You shamelessly ogle him, giggling like you’ve seen your crush outside the castle gates helping villagers.

Checking him out, even winking at him like some ‘creepy’ villager, and it never fails to fluster him, always flirting with him, and always end up having him grabbing you by your waist to nuzzle his nose onto the crook of your neck like it is his beloved safe haven,

Because you are his safe haven.

——————————————————————————

You were brewing some tea in the kitchen of your shared castle, he loved chamomile tea, you took note to always drink it with him, you made one though, just for him, you even prepared a bathe for him, you treat him like royalty. (Well.. son of dracula.. king of vampires.)

You felt supple arms wrap around your waist, you immediately lit up, a glint of happiness in your eyes as you swiftly turned to wrap your arms around his neck, eliciting a giggle from him.

“Ohhh! My sweet everlasting angel..” you serenaded, your hands cupping his flushed cheeks.

“Hello my darling.., I’m so sorry i have been away.. so much tasks and work i have to get through and—“

“completely alright..” you replied, your eyes displaying the look of love to him, you were a gift, he was a gift, it made his heart burst.

Without a word, he nuzzled his face at the crook of your neck, peppering it with kisses as you chuckled, your hands soothing his slightly knotted hair.

“I prepared a bathe for you..” he lifts his head back to your eye level, his eyes slightly widened.

“You didnt have to do that for me..”

“But i wanted to.. i love you, remember?” You smiled, “and i made tea for you, i made sure to warm it up, just the way you like it.” You held the teacup for him, placing it to the table before gently pulling him to sit onto the chair, long time ago.. he felt slightly worried from your sweet gentle lovebombing, feeling like you’ll betray him any minute, but as time goes on.. you’ve been nothing malicious.. genuinely taking care of him, whenever he cries, you cried too, overwhelming of your love.

He gently guided you to sit onto the other chair right next to him, as he spoke about the tasks, perhaps a little gossip, you couldn’t help but rest your palm on your chin, marveling at his beauty.

He noticed the look of admiration in your e/c eyes, a small tug of a shy smile played on his face, which nearly made you kick your legs under the table in giddiness.

You audibly sighed in delight, batting your eyelashes at him, earning a soft laugh from him.

“How long have you been ogling me, you little minx?”

You chuckled but nearly swooned at his voice, you replied in a teasing manner “can a wife love her husband? Sheesh..” you playfully huffed, before returning your gaze at the latter.. “keep talking, beautiful.” You grinned.

He placed his empty teacup down before, in a swift motion, placing you onto his lap.

His hands squeezed your waist before peppering your face in kisses, in which you chuckle in delight, your hands holding his cheeks, massaging his upper cheekbones.

“Come.. bathe with me, you vixen..” he pecked your lips.

♡

The soft sheets rustles on the mattress, his face was long burrowed into your chest for god knows how long, it had been a long day and he needs some good rest.

Perhaps some more loving.

“Lu..” you murmured, cupping his cheeks with your both hands, they were supple.

“Mmm?..” he mumbled, opening one eye, it was enough to make you, not smile, but grin at the sight.

“mm..” he responded, simply a flustered mumble before burrowing his face back to your chest, once again, you try lifting his flustered face back up.

“Stoppppp.. great, now my eyes wont have their daily blessing..” your words eliciting a chuckle from him, but you were genuine, he looks like an angel that failed to disguise themselves as they set foot on earth with the intentions of looking human.

He reluctantly lifts his face back to look up at you, his cheeks half-squished on your chest, which was enough for you to shower him in such peppering kisses on his defined face, batting his eyelashes at you.

He gasped softly before relishing into it, soft chuckles, even laughter and giggles sang out from his mouth, your favorite music from him.

Occasionally he playfully tried to dodge from your kisses but you always capture his face with your sweet hands.

He tried to return the favor, peppering kisses into your face but failed to do so as you kept holding him close, grabbing his cheeks and kissing him, showering him in compliments,

To the point, he ends up tearing up.

you reluctantly continued your kisses, you knew these were tears of joy, but you slowed down your ministrations, in case he felt uneased— he ended up letting out a small whine, eager for you to continue, and you did, he smiled through his tears as you pecked each drop of salty crystals streaming down his cheeks. He never felt his image of a monster on earth, but an angel deserving of love, thanks to you.

and he thought he was forever gonna be alone..

it seems like the fates have different plans for him now.

[figthoughts]

jealousy games — dean winchester ⋆˚࿔

summary: after a nasty argument, dean decides to get back at you by flirting with another woman. you take it upon yourself to return the energy.

warnings: smut (with a plot!), oral (f. receiving), jealous/angry dean, angst?, manhandling, est. relationship (dom!bf!dean x gf!reader) 18+

⋆ .𖥔˚

dean’s hand slid higher and higher up the woman’s thigh as you watched from across the bar, your lips threatening to curl into a scowl at the sight. his eyes were on you, and that stupid, proud smirk on his face had you seething as you watched the excited blonde bounce around in the seat next to your boyfriend, giggling at every word that left his lips.

you huffed angrily to yourself and turned to face the bar again, having had enough of his little display. fine. if he wants to play that game, then you’ll play too. no big deal.

you swallowed the last of your drink and slammed it back down onto the bar, eyeing the place for someone suitable. your eyes landed on two men, who were both staring intently at you from their barstools a few seats up. the men were decently handsome and looked like they could take a punch if it came to it, so you flashed them a sweet smile.

the men grinned and turned to each other for a moment, exchanging a few quiet words before standing up and making their way over to you.

“hey, pretty thing. i’m dan… and this is mike,” the taller man greeted and gestured to his friend before leaning on the bar next to you. “you drinking alone?”

you tilted your head up at them and forced out a smile, “mhm, just blowing off some steam.”

the pair nodded and checked you out, eyeing you up and down with matching grins on their faces. “so what’s your name? can we buy you a drink?” mike asked.

you gave them your name and bit your lower lip, watching the men smile in response to your flirting. “actually, i kinda want to dance,” you said, smirking at them.

“oh, yeah? dance? we can dance,” mike nodded slowly, holding his hand out for you.

you chuckled softly, shooting a glance back at dean, before grabbing the man’s hand. “great, let’s go then.”

dean’s mind had completely abandoned the gorgeous blonde sat in front of him. his eyes were glued on you, and they had been since he saw the two men first make their way over to you. dean’s jaw tensed as he watched you lead the guys onto the dance floor, his grip on his beer bottle tightening, turning his knuckles bone white.

“hey, uh— are you okay?” the blonde woman asked, her brows furrowing in confusion as she noticed the scowl form on dean’s face.

“i’m fine,” he responded curtly, his eyes not leaving your figure as he spoke.

he watched the two men circle around you as you danced, like predators stalking their prey. dean could feel the rage beginning to flood his veins. he didn’t like this. not one bit.

as you moved in rhythm with the two men, you could feel dean’s eyes boring into you from across the bar. you could sense the anger in his gaze, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself in satisfaction; you were winning. you were beating him at his own damn juvenile game.

you moved closer to the two men and began grinding along with them to the music, feeling their hands travel over your body, demanding and brash. you shut your eyes and smiled, letting them guide you and your movements.

dean watched on from the table he was sat at, slowly sipping his beer with a sour expression plaguing his face as the blonde tried—and failed—to make conversation again.

but dean’s attention was still on you. he could barely watch as the men let their hands wander all over the places of your body that he knew so well, so intimately. the taller man leaned down and whispered something in your ear, making you throw your head back and laugh. dean’s jaw tensed again. he nearly crushed the beer bottle in his bare hand as he saw you pull the man back down and wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your chest against his.

then dean caught your eyes as you spun around to face him with a big smug smirk plastered on your face.

that was it.

dean abruptly excused himself from the woman and stood up, heading directly for you on the dance floor with heavy footfalls. you watched him, continuing to smirk as you rested your head on dan’s shoulder.

“we’re going. now.” dean snapped quietly, but firmly enough for you—and the two men—to hear over the hum of the music as he grabbed your upper arm.

“hey, man—” mike moved in front of you and dan, blocking dean from pulling you away.

“yeah,” dean laughed lowly, “i’m not talking to you, buddy.” dean let go of your arm and pulled his back, throwing his weight into a punch, landing a nasty blow on mike’s jaw.

mike stumbled off to the side, his hands immediately grabbing his jaw as he let out a deep pained groan.

“hey!” dan yelled and pushed you behind him. he stepped forward, up to dean, “what’s your fuckin’ problem, man?”

dean laughed again, darkly and unimpressed, but slightly amused by the man’s attempt to defend his friend’s honour. dean found your eyes, ignoring dan entirely, and spoke directly to you, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“i said we’re going. now.”

you laughed and shook your head, “no, i don’t think so. go back to that pretty little blonde.”

you grabbed dan’s shoulder and pulled him back to you, dismissing dean from saying anything further. dan hesitantly wrapped his arms back around you as he watched dean seethe from the corner of his eye.

“baby. now.” dean snapped, his face tightening in anger. “the ‘pretty little blonde’ was nothing. you’re doing too much now, and you know it.”

“do you know this guy?” dan asked you as he glanced between dean, mike—who was still rubbing his tender jaw with a scowl on his face—and you.

you shrugged, “not really. just some guy.”

dean scoffed and ripped dan off of you. dan grunted with widened eyes, clearly not anticipating dean’s strength. he stumbled backwards into mike, who let out another groan.

“some guy, my ass,” dean huffed and got in your face. “we’re leaving. now. let’s go.”

you rolled your eyes, despite his serious tone and expression. you glanced at the two guys with an apologetic look, “sorry, fellas. it was nice to meet you both. sorry ‘bout the…” you gestured towards your jaw.

dean pulled you towards the exit through the sparse crowd of drunken patrons, huffing angrily as you smiled back at the two men, whose faces were contorted in confusion and disbelief at the whole situation.

dean managed to pull you outside into the cool air of the parking lot and shoved you towards the impala. “you think that shit is fucking funny?” he snapped.

you flinched slightly at the roughness of his voice but continued smirking anyways, responding with defiance laced thick in your tone, “yeah, a little bit to be honest.”

“s’not fucking funny. get the fuck in.” dean growled angrily, swinging open the passenger door for you.

you did as you were told, sliding into the passenger seat and rolling your eyes as he slammed the door. dean walked around to the driver’s side and got in.

“how could you let them touch you like that? no one touches you like that but me. got it?” he started the car and turned to you expectantly, waiting for your answer as the engine rumbled in the quiet of the parking lot.

“oh, but it’s fine for you to touch that woman the way you did in there, huh?” you shot back, clicking in your seatbelt.

dean’s face hardened as he began reversing the impala, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white. “she was nothing,” he replied with a dangerously low tone.

“oh, yeah? you basically fingerfucking her at that table was nothing?” you snapped in a huff and crossed your arms.

dean pulled onto the main road and scoffed to himself. “yeah, it was nothing,” he said bluntly, keeping his eyes on the dark road ahead.

“i know what you were trying to do, dean.”

“yeah? obviously it worked,” he chuckled back mockingly, taking a moment to glance at your sullen face.

you scoffed and tightened your crossed arms, “fuck you, dean! you’re so immature, you know that? we have one little fight and you just go off and find the biggest bimbo to flirt with just to piss me off!”

“amanda isn’t a bimbo,” dean replied flatly, his tone mocking again, “she’s pre-med, actually.”

“i don’t give a fuck!” you yelled.

“yeah, you don’t give a fuck. that’s why you were practically fucking bert and ernie on the dance floor!” he snapped back in a huff, turning onto a side street.

you felt the anger begin to boil the blood in your veins as he kept speaking, acting like this whole situation wasn’t his fault, which only riled you up further. “well, maybe if you fucking treated me right, i wouldn’t have to go and find assholes to dance around with!”

“treat you ri— are you joking?!” dean scoffed in disbelief and shot you a look. “treat you right? you’re the centre of my goddamn world. i’d die without you. and you wanna cry about me not treating you right. i treat you right,” he growled lowly without taking his eyes off the road, his tone deep and venomous, your words clearly striking a nerve.

you let out a huff and looked out the window. “yeah, right whenever you want something,” you muttered angrily.

dean slammed a hand down on the steering wheel as the motel came into view further down the road, making you flinch slightly at the sudden noise.

“i do treat you right. i’m doing the best i can, damn it!” he turned to you, his expression a strange combination of anger and hurt swirling around on his tense face.

you rolled your eyes, which only seemed to visibly piss dean off more. “the best you can?” you began to raise your voice, “if the ‘best you can’ is flirting with another woman in front of me, then i don’t want your ‘best’, you fucking ass!”

dean shook his head, turning the impala into the motel parking lot. it fell silent as dean pulled the keys out from the ignition. his eyes dropped to his hands in his lap.

dean took in a sharp breath, “get inside.”

you turned your head to him, looking at his tensed jaw and the way his chest moved from heaving out rough breaths. you opened your mouth to begin speaking.

but you were interrupted by dean, “now.”

his voice was low and unsettling. it was disarming, having dean speak to you in a way that you’d rarely ever seen, let alone been on the receiving end of. okay, so maybe you pushed him a little too far with your antics. you knew about dean’s jealousy issues when it came to the people he loved, but to see it play out in real time had your heart racing.

“okay.”

was all you said, before hopping out of the car and walking to the motel room. dean followed quickly behind you and shut the door. he looked at you, his eyes now darkened and his mouth pressed into a firm sneer.

“i don’t wanna talk. i want you to take your clothes off and get on the bed,” dean said, his tone still disarmingly low and calm.

you swallowed softly and nodded—you couldn’t disagree. hell, you didn’t even know if you wanted to. your fingers found the hem of your shirt and you pulled it over your head whilst kicking off your shoes. dean watched as you silently undressed yourself, and he began pulling his clothes off too, still watching your every move like a damn hawk.

dean followed you onto the bed and grabbed your jaw with his rough hands, yanking you towards him. he met your lips with fervour, forcing your mouth open and shoving his tongue against yours, completely and utterly claiming you, reminding you that you’re his. and his only.

his grip on your jaw was tight, and it stayed that way as his other hand travelled down your body, ending up between your thighs. his fingers flicked over your clit, making your hips jerk in surprise as a gasp fell from your mouth.

“no, keep fucking still,” dean muttered against your lips before diving back in, tangling his tongue with yours again.

you couldn’t help the moan that escaped you. dean’s fingers began rubbing your core, forcing a wave of heat to fall over your body and pool in your stomach. he worked his hand between your thighs until he could feel your cunt drool and your folds puff up under his fingers.

he was rough and unforgiving with his hand, rubbing your heat quickly, like he was trying to channel his anger from the car and turn it into pleasure. you whined and whimpered into his mouth, and your legs began to shake from holding yourself up.

dean could feel you beginning to lose composure as you twitched against his hand. he didn’t let you break the kiss or pull away from his touch; his tongue kept dominating your mouth, lapping up your sweet taste mixed with the lingering flavour of alcohol on your tongue.

you hit your climax and moaned slurred mumbles into his mouth as a wave of pleasure crashed over you. he hummed as he felt your wet cunt quiver against his fingers.

dean pulled back from your lips and panted down at you, his free hand still holding your face, keeping you looking up at him. his face was still tense, and his pupils were completely blown out by desire. you could feel the anger and need radiating off him in thick heavy waves.

“you really think i treat you like shit, huh?” he huffed out, pulling his wet hand away from your cunt and roughly shoving you back onto the bed.

you fell back onto the pillows and looked up at him with wide eyes. “dean, i—” you started.

“no,” he interrupted, “that was a rhetorical question. i’d die for you, you know that? a-and you go and say that i’m a bad boyfriend. that i treat you like shit. that i’m not good enough.”

your eyes stayed wide as you took in his anger and the venom—that was barely just disguising the hurt—in his voice. dean shook his head at your silence; he knew his words were cutting deep, but he wanted you to understand how much they’d hurt him.

dean forced your thighs apart, letting his gaze fall upon your puffed up cunt, which was practically begging to be split open and used.

“yeah, a bad boyfriend,” he quipped to himself, shaking his head at how quickly he’d gotten you worked up like usual and how you still don’t even realise how good he is for you, especially like this.

you frowned up at him, watching the anger pull tight at his features. “dean, please. i didn’t mean—”

dean met your eyes again and sneered, “no, i don’t wanna hear it. you don’t say a thing to me, alright? you keep that mouth shut.”

he was dead serious. his chest rose and fell as he kept his hardy gaze on you, his eyes boring into yours.

you scoffed and rolled your eyes, trying to lighten the tension between the two of you. “dean, c’mon—”

he shook his head and delivered a quick smack to your cunt, the hit stinging your sensitive bud, forcing a whimper to escape from your mouth as your hips bucked.

“i said not a goddamn peep,” he repeated. his eyes continued to bore into yours, waiting for you to comply with his words—or not. he was ready to smack you again if he needed to, and you could tell.

so you nodded, not really knowing what else to do with this new side of dean you’d accidentally unlocked. it was unnerving, but exciting at the same time—the way he breathed through his gritted teeth and tensed his jaw, and how his darkened eyes travelled over your form beneath him, almost shrinking you down with his unwavering gaze.

dean swallowed and nodded back at you, “good. i’m not listening to another word of your bullshit. i’m not a bad boyfriend. i fucking love you.”

as soon as his words left his lips, his mouth had found its way between your thighs, attaching itself to your slick cunt. you mewled at his warm tongue lapping at you, and you watched as he worked at your core with fervour once again, practically smushing his face into your wet heat. he worked at you like he had something to prove, like your words held a truth in which dean didn’t want to admit and therefore had to disprove, not only to you but to himself.

he held your thighs apart with his hands, letting the fat of them surround his head, muffling the mewls and moans he was pulling from you.

you watched his eyes flicker up to meet yours for a second. he still looked angry, and it was almost like he was telling you off with his gaze. lay there and take it. let me show you how fucking good i am for you.

dean soon shut his eyes, falling into the pleasure of lapping up your sweet taste on his tongue, desperately pulling your core closer to his face like a man who’d just struck gold between your thighs. he moaned against you, at your taste and the way your hips began to buck up into his face, pleading for more. he held you down against the mattress with his strong grip, his mouth chasing your heat every time you tried to buck back up.

he’d managed to pull two orgasms straight from your core, his tongue licking up your sweet nectar every time you let go against his stubbly jaw. it was like he wasn’t even doing this for you anymore, but instead now doing it for himself, like he couldn’t get enough of you, like he never wanted to let you go, like he was in some sort of trance.

“d-dean…. please,” you whimpered out, trying to buck your hips against his face and shove his head away from you, your fingers pushing against his sandy locks. “please, baby. can’t take— take anymore.”

his eyes darted up to your glazed over ones staring right back at him. he took in the way your face was all flushed and your chest heaved like you’d just finished a marathon. pride surged in his chest; a bad boyfriend? yeah, right.

he nipped at your clit, earning a cry from you, and finally pulled away, sitting up on his knees. the lower half of his face glistened with your slick arousal coating his stubble and lips.

you panted out weak whimpers as you looked at each other. it fell silent, and an uneasy tension filled the air around you both. you stared at him cautiously, your eyes flickering between his. you didn’t know what to say.

dean licked his lips and sighed, a heavy tense breath that added to the thick air surrounding you both. “right…” he cleared his throat and shuffled closer to you. he grabbed ahold of his furiously red cock and swiped some precum from his tip, lubricating his shaft as he gently began pumping himself. a gasp fell from his lips, and he looked down at you, watching the way your eyes nervously met his as you awaited his next move, unsure of where his temper sat.

his warm calloused hand grabbed your leg, hoisting it up against his abdomen, your thigh pressing against his soft tummy. you grunted as he tugged you up and watched as he swiped his tip along your slit, earning a breathless moan from you.

“you want this?” he asked, teasing your folds with his member, tapping your bud with his tip.

you bit your lower lip and nodded.

“words. i want you to tell me you want it. that you want me,” he said firmly.

“i want you. ‘course i want you,” you murmured, your eyes flickering between his in earnest.

dean scoffed. your brows pinched together slightly at the sound, and a small strum of hurt moved through you.

“yeah…” was all dean said before he plunged himself into your wet cunt quickly, bottoming out inside you with a rough breath.

a pained moan flew past your lips, and you felt your pussy flutter around him, trying to accommodate the large new intrusion inside you.

dean’s hand gripped roughly at your leg, still holding it up against his torso, keeping you spread open for him. he leaned forward a little and kept his eyes on your face as he pulled his hips back, before slowly thrusting into you again. he watched as your flustered expression morphed into a look of pleasure—despite the lingering twinge of nervousness in your eyes that betrayed your true feelings.

he held you up against him tight, almost painfully so, as he built a rhythm, pumping in and out of you as loud squelching sounds bounced around the room. your already overstimulated cunt wept around his dick, sucking him in like he belonged there, like you couldn’t bear to feel him go.

rough grunts fell from dean’s lips, and his face scrunched up, his hazy green eyes locked on where you two connected. you couldn’t help your own sweet sounds from escaping as he pounded into you quickly.

dean pulled you up against him more, his free hand now grabbing at your lower hip, keeping you up at the perfect angle. his fingertips pressed into the fat of your thigh and his dick pistoned into you, hitting all those gooey spots that had you clutching at the sheets and whimpering at every thrust. his tip pounded against your cervix; it was rough, and you were sure you were going to be bruised in the morning, but the look on dean’s face and the way he throbbed inside your walls made it hard to care.

“d-e-ean!” you cried out, tears forming in your eyes from his harsh strokes. you felt that dizzying warm feeling in your stomach start to grow as you watched the absolute beast of a man above you rut into you like an animal.

dean’s droopy darkened eyes flickered down to yours, and you swore, just for a second, you saw a flicker of that usual dean softness slip through the angry exterior. he kept hissing and grunting with every thrust, not taking his eyes off yours, falling back into that pussydrunk trance.

“take it. just fucking take it. i fucking love you…. and you love me,” he managed to grunt out, his voice winded from plowing into you like a fucking rabid animal.

“i do! ‘course i do! please!” you whined, feeling your body begin to turn to jelly in his grip.

your weak pleas fell on deaf ears. dean didn’t let up his rough thrusts; he continued to piston his swollen angry dick into your sweet cunt. sweat beads formed on his forehead, and his heavy breaths began to turn into deep guttural groans, the sound only soaking you more.

“you fucking love me,” he moaned out, “but you tell me— tell me i don’t treat you right.”

you whimpered, not only at the feeling of your release quickly approaching, but also at dean’s words. he looked so pained as he rutted into you, his features pulled tight in a way you could tell didn’t come from just pleasure alone. the impact of your words in the car had stung him more than you could’ve anticipated, and his face showed that.

“i didn’t— i didn’t mean it! dean, please!” you moaned out hoarsely, feeling guilt begin to stab at your chest.

“i treat you right!” he snapped, adjusting his harsh grip on your thigh, pulling you closer to him—if that was even possible, and you had no doubts your hip and thigh would be speckled with pink bruises tomorrow.

“i know you do!” you cried out at the new angle.

“say it!”

“i— you— mmm,” you sputtered out, barely able to comprehend anything beyond the warm feeling bursting through your core.

“say. it.”

dean’s voice was low and downright scary. you’d never once had dean be so demanding and sinister towards you, or been fucked so roughly by him either. it made your heart race and your body shiver.

“you treat me right, d-dean!” you moaned, letting the hot tears in your eyes finally fall.

“that’s right, i do, baby. i love you. that’s why we’re so good together, yeah?” he replied breathlessly, now with an air of desperation dancing around in his words.

you nodded pathetically at his words, your scrunched up face mirroring dean’s as you both veered on the edge together. dean turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss to your ankle and then leaned his head against it as he looked down at your pitiful self. you could feel the sweat from his hairline on your skin and the sparks erupting from the minuscule contact he was finally allowing you to have.

“so close, sweetheart, aren’t you? squeezing me like crazy. just let go. i’ve got you,” he huffed out, his voice a touch softer than before, but still gruff and winded.

his softened tone forced the band in your stomach to finally snap, sending a shockwave of pleasure flooding your body. your pussy fluttered around dean’s cock, clamping down on his throbbing member, triggering his own release. he spilt his pearly white load into your gummy walls, finally slowing down his harsh unrelenting thrusts into a mess of weak movements.

“fuck— fuck, sweetheart,” he moaned gutturally and finally came to a still inside you, “fucking love you.”

dean pressed another hot kiss to your ankle before carefully dropping your leg back down onto the mattress and collapsing on top of you, letting your sweaty bodies finally press against each other. your chest surged with a warm feeling at his weight on top of you, finally feeling his body against yours. he buried his head into your neck, his heavy breaths tickling your skin as you panted together, coming down from the overexertion.

“i love you too,” you mumbled weakly, barely coherent as you shook beneath him. you wrapped your arms around his torso—there was no way you were letting him go, not when it felt so right to finally have him against you like this.

“i know you do, baby. i’m so sorry for today… m’so sorry,” dean murmured weakly into your neck and began pressing gentle kisses just below your ear, his soft earnest words tugging at your heartstrings.

“it’s okay,” you managed to get out, letting your head loll back with your eyes closed. one of your hands found its way to the hair at dean’s nape, and you gently threaded your fingers through it. “i’m sorry too. let’s— let’s not even worry about it, okay? let’s just be here… like this.”

“mmm,” dean hummed against your skin, “can do…”

you hummed in return and laid beneath him, trying to calm down from the high you’d both just reached. your racing heart began to slow down into a steady rhythm, and dean’s breathing against your neck began to settle.

after a short beat of silence, dean spoke up in a soft but playful tone, “hey, sweetheart? i just have to say it. i’m not sorry for punching that asshole in the face.”

you couldn’t help but laugh at his words and the cheeky grin you could feel against your neck. he was back. your dean was back. all the previous anger and tension from before had been stripped away completely, and dean’s raspy laughter filled the air with yours.

“yeah, ‘course you’re not, macho man,” you teased quietly, your voice saccharine and soft as you played with his hair.

dean lifted his head to look down at you, his green eyes flickering between yours. he looked almost boyish in his expression; no more creased brows, no more curled lips, or narrowed eyes. just dean. your dean.

“i’d do anything to protect you… to keep you, you know that? i’d punch any asshole in the face for you.”

“well, you know technically it wasn’t for me, it was—”

you grunted as dean’s lips met yours, shutting you up with a gentle kiss, much softer than the rough demanding ones from earlier. you felt him smile into it, and you knew all the animosity had been set aside and forgotten, which in turn, made your own lips curve into a smile.

fig yaps: posting this on valentine’s day feels wrong omg anyways i literally wrote the first two thirds of this in like… november i wanna say???? shit lives in my drafts too long LOL i loved writing angry/angsty dean tho like he just wants to be loved PLS my sweet little lovebug he’s so hot BYE

feedback and reblogs are welcome and appreciated! thank yaaa <3

✩ taglist: @chevroletdean @fitxgrld @jasvtsc @bluestrd @1-imbroglio @titsout4jackles @faithfulsofi @tortureddarkstar @abellmunsonmovie @legalmente-loca @theoneandonlystonedspiderman420 @manicjk @aileenunfiltered @minettacreekk @winchester-whiskey @emeraldcrs @freyabear @daylighted @cosmopolitan-thedrink @jwritestuff @suhnisideup @spookyysinsanity @kimxwinchester @bleuatlas @deansbbyx @angelicjackles @deansbeer @artemys-ackles @bluemerakis @misatxox @star-yawnznn @ambiguous-avery @starzify @dulcescorderitas @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @deanswidow @psychicnatural @ghostlyaccurate @k-slla

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[dumbgoondog]

On Display(Part 1)

MDNI +18 NSFW

Fem Reader, the boys getting to see your cunt for the first time. Just short things might make full fics for em tho.

Ft. Gojo, Geto, Sukuna, and Yuta

Cw/Tw - Blood, degradation, horny boys lol

GOJO

“Fuck… your pussy is so pretty,” he’s drooling already and he hasn’t even gotten your underwear off all the way. You reach up to cover your face and he’s quick to summon a blue to pull your hands away from you face and above your head. “No, don’t hiiiiddeee c’mooon she’s so pretty, just like you!”

He’s smiling and reaches out tentatively cupping your heat, feeling his palm pressing to your entrance and your body twitches anxiously. His breathing hitches giving a small squeeze and trailing his hand down through your folds fingers spreading your lips and showing off your weeping flushed cunt. Gojo licks his lips kissing your thigh and reaches up to pull away his blindfold mumbling, “I need to see her fer real, nothing in the way. Aww sweetheart, she’s cryin for me~ lemme kiss those pretty tears away yeah?”

GETO

“St-stop staring!” You plead pushing at his firm hands but Suguru Geto will not budge. He’s gripping your thighs holding them open wide as he’s marveling at the feast laid out between your legs. Embarrassed you reach down to try and cover yourself but he’s quicker and his tongue is flat and dragging up between your lips swirling around your swollen clit.

You give a whimpered mewl and he gives a low groan into your cunt, tongue lapping at your folds and teasing at your entrance so eagerly. He finally pulls back with a lewd pop of his lips, a string of juices connecting your pussy to his mouth and he hungrily licks that up holding your gaze, “haaah, damn my love, what were we waiting for again? She’s so needy and I love to spoil you, she must’ve been so ready for me.”

SUKUNA

“Damn you were hogging all this huh? What you wanted me to starve? Didn’t know you were such a cruel mistress,” His voice gravels a laugh creeping in his massive hands reach two grabbing your hips and the other two grabbing your knees. You’re lifted off the bed by your hips and legs pulled apart as Sukuna marvels licking his lips. “Damn, my bitch dripping all over Huh? You like being on display for me brat?”

You whimper and whine, hands grabbing onto Sukuna’s thighs squeezing, and in response he squeezes your hips with a rough laugh from his stomach followed by a lick from the massive tongue to your back. The hands on your knees let go, legs dropping onto Sukuna’s shoulders, and you somewhat relax until your feel a massive hand palming at your cunt and Sukuna’s teeth sink into your thigh. You give a choked cry of pleasure and pain as he laps up the blood purring, “that’s it, good girl~ I can feel you trembling and trying to suck me in. How pathetic, but I’m sure you’ll taste amazing.”

YUTA

“Oh-oh my god,” Yuta stutters and swallows, reaching a hand out to hold your hip as you stand in front of him. You smile nervously and nod to him as he looks for permission, his sweet tired eyes so gentle and nervous. Slowly his gaze traces back down your body and reaches out a tender hand to trace up your thigh meeting with his gaze on your lips.

His hand is slightly rough and but still soft as he trails two fingers across your lips and gently dips to touch and tease at your entrance. You grab onto his shoulders a little whimper betraying you as you can see the small smirk pull at his lips. His fingers drag up through your folds and to your clits running little circles around the sensitive bud before he leans in to kiss your clit, murmuring against you, “baby you’re so beautiful, I hope I can make you feel as good as you look.”

[direbeastrex]

fun facts for the thread: the old fashioned 'hand a clerk a list and then wait while they grab you your items' is still a thing in the UK in *one store*, called Argos. The whole customer-facing part of the shop is comparatively rather small considering they stock the amount of things you'd find inside a big airy warehouse style department store. it's set up very minimally, maybe some tvs on the wall to show things like picture quality and refresh rate, the odd thing they want to display like furniture or the like- but not a lot that is worth it to grab and run out of the shop with. Small electronics or headphones might be hung up in the aisle to try and catch you with impulse or the like, but otherwise- it's not really got shelves or bins or anything. Just tables with laminated catalogue books, slips of paper, and tiny, infinitely stealable wooden pencils. The function of Argos has been for the last however many decades that you walk up to all the laid out laminated catalogues, flick through them for the thing you know you want already (and maybe some things that might be specials that month or whatever if youre flush), jot down the product codes on said provided slip of paper with said provided infinitely stealable little wooden pencil, walk up to the register and pay, and then they send the product codes to the *rest* of the shop- which is actually a massive warehouse with rows and rows of shelves organized by those product codes. Like the part of Ikea where you get the flatpack version of the thing you found in the showroom, but it's everything- tvs, consoles, white goods, kitchen appliances, video games, pc equipment- it's all back there. It saves a ton of space and time and man power, because they don't have to make anything look pretty or browseable- that's what the catalogue is for! They know you know what you want, and they save overhead on loss prevention and having a dozen people on the shop floor keeping the place tidy and reorganized and restocked any time some lady or her unruly kids wreck the place, let alone having to deal with people shoplifting. No being accosted by someone paid to be nice to you at the door. Just- go in, Pay for Thing, wait a couple minutes, leave with Thing.

It's also affordable as shit. Obviously the big ticket items are going to be expensive anyway, but they have their own brand for a lot of essentials. It would, however, be DIABOLICAL to put shit in a supermarket behind glass and locks, to me. Its annoying enough when they do it for safety reasons with certain kinds of medicine or whatever, and in the UK sometimes some shops will have their booze have a little alarm tag on the top to 1) keep it sealed and 2) if you book it out the door it'll make a hell of a noise, but at least you can still put it in your basket and you don't have to track down someone to unlock a whole shelf for you, yikes.

I think the only reason delis/butchers work this way is because it's so limited- it's just one kind of food, you can have a conversation with the expert who is right there and can do things like a special cut for you or give you a recommendation- it's more like getting drinks at a bar during a quiet hour. Much less about money changing hands quickly, much more about clarity and purpose and good service.

Published Jan 14, 2025

[doeinlace]

EPISODE ONE – "pretty little thing"

a soldier boy x innocent!reader mini series series masterlist

he sees you before you see him. all wide-eyed innocence wrapped up in something too soft, too delicate for a place like this. you don’t belong—not in a bar like this, not surrounded by the kind of men who take what they want without asking. you’re something sweet in a room full of rot, and maybe that’s why he can’t stop looking at you.

but the real kicker? you walked in anyway.

you stepped into the lion’s den, wrapped in something soft and powdery pink, like you didn’t realize you were putting yourself on display. like you didn’t feel the weight of every gaze snapping toward you, some more lingering than others. but his? his is different. his is locked in, razor-sharp, dark with interest.

he waits. watches. lets you squirm a little.

your fingers are fidgeting with the hem of your dress, your lips pursed like you’re trying to make yourself small. but you feel it, don’t you? the way his gaze burns, how it drags over the curve of your throat, your bare shoulders, the hint of lace peeking from beneath your neckline. you’re pretending not to notice, pretending not to know exactly who he is.

that’s cute.

he could drag this out, let you shift under his gaze, let you pretend you don’t feel the air thickening between you. but he’s never been a patient man.

his boots hit the floor heavy as he moves, making sure you hear him before he even reaches you. he’s big, broad, all heat and dominance when he settles beside you at the bar. the bartender barely acknowledges him—one look is all it takes for them to pour him a drink, no questions asked. but you? you’re frozen, stiff, your hands going still in your lap.

“you lost, sweetheart?” his voice is rough, tinged with amusement, like he already knows the answer.

you don’t look at him right away, like you think ignoring him might make him disappear. that just makes him smirk.

finally, your head tilts, those big doe eyes blinking up at him, and fuck, that does something to him.

“no,” you murmur, voice soft, barely above the hum of the room.

his grin widens. “no?” he parrots, resting an arm against the bar, his frame caging you in. “then what’s a girl like you doin’ in a place like this?”

you hesitate, lips parting like you’re gonna answer, but nothing comes out.

he chuckles, low and rough, fingers reaching out before you can even think to flinch. he tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering at the delicate curve of your jaw.

“bet nobody’s ever laid a hand on you, huh?” his voice drops lower, more private, just for you. his thumb drags along the slope of your chin, teasing, barely-there, but enough to make you inhale sharply. “not the way i would.”

your breath stutters, the kind of sound that makes him want to push. test how much he can take before you snap, before you turn into something desperate, something pliant just for him.

he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his breath warm. “what’s the matter, sweetheart?” it’s taunting and sweet all at once, a cruel little contrast. “scared?”

you don’t say yes.

but you don’t say no either.

and that’s all the answer he needs.

he grins, slow and easy, leaning back just enough to look at you properly. there’s something so damn satisfying about the way your lashes flutter, the way your lips tremble like you don’t trust yourself to speak.

yeah. he’s gonna have fun with this.

taglist

@jasvtsc @angelackless @soldiersgirl @soangelbaby @figthoughts @cowboysandcigarettes @dulcescorderitas @clairereadin @bluemerakis @sl33pylilbunny @ilovedilfs-4-ever @lunaleah @sydneytommostyles comment to be added

[osamucide]

⊹ THE FIRST TASTE

LET IT BEGIN, HEAVEN CANNOT WAIT FOREVER . . . ft. Osamu Dazai

wc: ~3.6k

cw: NSFW CONTENT—MDNI (I BLOCK AGELESS+BLANK BLOGS), ada+masc!reader, reader has a tongue piercing, pet names (pretty boy and cutie for u), romantic and sexual tension, established flirtationship->new relationship?, a lil alcohol, making out, oral fixation/finger sucking, oral sex (Dazai receiving), cum eating (Dazai lol), patheticzai makes a spectacle of your shyness even though he can't just ask for what he wants good thing u have telepathy with him /j

reid: trade w my sweet friend @rossithepixie / @selfindulgentpixies who masterminded some beautiful osareid art for me <3 (if u havent seen it yet dw i will be reblogging it a million more times but also check out rossi's work neow cause he's super talented). thank you for trusting me with this rossi—it was such a blast to do a little lovesick dazai desperately chasing ur cute lil self into a corner (i listened to fiona apple's song with the same title a lot while i wrote this—is it obvious? lol). i hope u enjoy so much <3

It’s a cute little habit of yours. Unconscious, he knows, but that makes it no less cute. No less dangerous. 

Everyone notices you do it—Atsushi pointed out the jewelry poking from your mouth with awe when he first caught you fidgeting with it (“People can have piercings there? That’s so cool”)—but Osamu highly doubts anyone finds it nearly as charming, as endearing as he himself does. After all, he’s the one consistently wheeling over next to you on his chair to fold his arms under his chin on your desk and admire you unashamedly while you tie a loose end around a sentence in whatever report you’re writing before even thinking about turning your attention to him. 

So diligent. 

That’s another cute thing about you. You've been a star worker, really, since you started. In the months since you got hired, your reports have been nothing but thorough and on time; even your first steps into fieldwork as a detective have been spotless, practiced, as if you already know this work like the back of your hand. You’re personable yet serious, easygoing and dedicated all at the same time, continually proving your worth as a voice of reason and contribution around the meeting table as well as a supportive, kind, all-around more than pleasant coworker on and off of crime scenes. Not to mention, your ability’s nothing to scoff at.

You’re a true asset to the Armed Detective Agency. 

Which is why Kunikida’s glaring Osamu down again, threatening him silently with an HR department that unfortunately doesn’t exist—because, yes, you are for all intents and purposes perfect for this workplace and the blond man will simply not have you driven off by his partner’s insufferable tendencies. 

Even Kunikida’s wrath, however, is scarcely known to deter Osamu Dazai, and that is why, when he notices you doing it again—toying with the metal bar through your tongue in an absentminded display of your oh-so-coveted concentration on and application to your task, he scoots himself right over, rowing on his heels, brushing admonishing stares like he might dust off his shoulder and settling next to you, chin in his palm, feet knocking into yours beneath your desk. 

As expected, you don’t turn to him immediately. All the better. Gives him a few seconds more to admire you, your parted lips, the glint of the metal and your pretty teeth against the natural light streaming into the office on this lovely day, made all the lovelier by the vision of your adorable expression.

But when you do, it’s melt-worthy. 

“Hi, Osamu,” you mumble, turning your eyes to him and tucking your tongue back in to offer him that sweet but aware, workplace-appropriate smile that makes him grin even further. You’d have to be naive not to know he wants to strip you of that professionalism, but you make sure to give him time of day in only the most graceful way when you’re both at the office; for as charming as he is, and for as much as you must shyly admit you find him endearing just the same, you don’t turn a blind eye to his cunning nature. 

And like so many things, it’s a bit of a game that he enjoys—seeing what he can do to crack that competence of yours. 

But today he’s restless, so he punches low from the jump. 

“Hi, pretty boy,” he purrs, gaze searing into you. Signature. 

And just like he hopes, your brow raises and you look away, pursing your lips to mask your reaction to his antics. He usually toys with you a little longer before he brandishes the pet name he knows all too well gets your cheeks glowing pink in an instant—and that’s exactly what they do. Your coyness can’t hide that. 

“Eager today, are we?” you fill the silence with the lighthearted accusation, busying yourself on your keyboard so as to fight off the squirming you’re sensing will be futile to escape this afternoon.

“Yup.” When he pops the p, he nudges your ankle with his own. 

But in your busying, the tip of your tongue flicks out again, and Osamu’s seemingly-aimless display of fluster-inducing attention surges toward its goal, which he’s been contemplating for a few days now, actually: getting you out of this stuffy office (or the all-too public nearby bar you’ve started frequenting with him after hours, strictly as friends it seems—if friends tangle their fingers together after a few cocktails and then don’t make mention of it the next day, anyway) and into his dorm, which he actually tidied up because he calculated with most near-certainty there couldn’t possibly exist a world in which you’d turn down such an invitation. So he hopes, anyway. For as player as he acts, the way you make him feel sows seeds of doubt in him and his usual methods of seduction. You know full well how sincerely captivated he is by you… right? You must. You have to. 

“You know,” he continues, “I was wondering…” 

Mincing his words is never part of his plans. Unless, of course, it’ll draw a desired outcome closer than being direct will. But now, Osamu finds himself almost hesitating, with no prior inclination to do so; he’s wondering, not thinking, like he seems to do so much when you’re near him, and he doesn't know if you fully realize it, but you might have more control over… whatever this is between you than he does.

You tilt your head, still turned to your screen, as if it begins to occur to you. 

“...Drinks at my place?” he spits out—pointedly dropping the “double suicide?” intonation so it’s clear he’s serious—before he can give any more indication that he’s slipping.

When you look to him again, Osamu’s filled the space of his doubt with that low-lidded grin once more.

“Tonight?” 

“Tonight? Oh—” You clear your throat in a way that sounds oddly affirmative, as if you’re trying to keep it from bubbling out too soon. You’re so assured in everything else you do around here, so Osamu, ever the contrarian, regains his balance on the premise of your shyness. When you go to confirm, you’ve all but lost your teasing lilt. The flush on your face doesn’t miss him. “Yeah, that’d be nice, Osamu.” 

Nice. If he didn’t have an image to upkeep, he’d leap up and fistpump the air like a cartoon character. Perhaps, if he were more in tune with his hand-to-god emotions, he’d crumble to the floor in a ball wondering what the hell he’s getting himself into.

He doesn’t do this. He doesn’t clean his dorm, much less invite romantic prospects over to it. You’re new territory in the way he feels freshly determined not to mess up, so he keeps himself composed behind that smile. “When are you out of here?” 

“I can be out of here whenever you’re out of here,” you mumble, your lips pressed into a smirk you won’t let unfurl fully. He wishes you would. He’ll get you to. If he had it his way, he’d whisk you out of here now, clock be damned, and pop open that red dessert wine he picked up specifically for the event in which you would land on his uncomfortable little couch with your tongue lingering in, hopefully, closer proximity to his own. He’s seen you tipsy; you don’t suppress that air of sheepish enthrallment so much when you are, and he’s impatient for it. He needs more of you.

But it’s three in the afternoon, and Kunikida’s abruptly dragging Osamu by the collar of his shirt like a puppy on a leash to roll him back over to his own damn desk, muttering something about how if he had any decency he’d leave you the hell alone and if he wasn’t going to contribute anything of worth to the Agency’s productivity yield, the least he could do was not disturb those who are. 

This makes you chuckle fully as you shake your head. Osamu eats it up—and he doesn’t hide it, eyeing you with something most akin to yearning in his gaze. You have such an effortless knack for putting hearts in his eyes in a way he’s not used to. 

The rest of his shift dawdles by; as a way to pass the time, Osamu volunteers himself to run out and pick up the Thai takeout for those who will be clocking out later than he hopes he will. Kunikida so graciously (read: reluctantly and irritatedly) let him order on his card, so he claimed it as repayment; really, he needed to get out of his desk chair. 

He feels insane watching you play with that piercing of yours, his stack of unfinished reports (or, pre-construction paper planes) serving as no distraction. 

He delivers your spring rolls to you with a wink. He eats his pad thai and fools around on his desktop. He watches the sun streak down the window.

He actually considers getting some work done. It’s nearly torture.

He gets up to leave the second the clock strikes eight. If he was bad at focusing on work before, you’ve ruined him. 

The implication’s all too clear when you’re stepping into the evening air behind him. You don’t mind—it’s evident in your reserved but knowing smile, the one he so terribly wants to unravel. 

His place is threadbare, but cozy. You curl yourself up on one of the two couch cushions while Osamu sets two empty glasses and a bottle on the low table before you—he’s eager, too, for the wine; he’s aching to dispel both your timidity and his anxiety that it feeds. Maybe it’s just that he can’t seem to handle himself positively spiraling over you while you remain enchantingly reticent, quiet in the desire he knows flows between you both. Usually, he’s the one with all the self-control. Tonight he’s counting on you missing the tremble in his fingers as he pours. 

“Kunikida’s such a hardass, isn’t he?” he muses while he tucks a glass into your hand and draws himself up onto the couch, facing you, leaving a respectful but still considerably involved distance between you. Your knee almost touches his. “Berating me for something as little as asking such a cutie to come over for drinks. It’d be more criminal not to, I think.” 

You chuckle at his dramatics, taking a sip. It’s sweet, red. You remind him, “We are coworkers, Osamu.” 

He cocks his head, drinking deeper than you do, with a thoughtful look on his gorgeous face. He hums and reminds you, “We’re not just coworkers.” 

Your chuckle becomes a giggle—one less dubious than the short, amused headshakes you save for the office—and with your next question, he knows he’s pulling you in. You’ve been dancing around each other long enough; he’s warm, trying not to overflow when you speak—you finally sound ready to acknowledge what’s been turning him into a mess for you when you hum and press skittishly. If he had a tail, it’d be wagging. 

“What else are we then, hm?” 

Your bashfulness reads so seamlessly as effortless wooing—he wonders if you’re so purely humble, or actually a mastermind of coquetry. The way you keep yourself veiled, thinly enough to keep him pining for more of you but staunchly too so that he constantly doubts whether the cat or the mouse has the upper hand, turns him to mush—absolute pathetic mush—and he answers a question with a question. You’ve got him going against all sorts of personal philosophy. 

“What else do you wanna be?” 

The answer gets lost between shifting hands, closing space, conversation and jokes that relax further and further as you both stabilize into one another over the following hour or so. A couple more glasses of wine are poured, drank, tasted—at some point in the blackening night you end up astride his lap in the dim lamplight with your glass in triumphant hand, tucking his hair behind his ear while he cups your face, simpers out another remark that makes you blush and wave him away; Osamu looks at you with something you can only construe through your buzz as pure want. Coming down from laughter that screws your eyes shut—he’s never short on humor, which is one of the things you think you love—love? about him, you say it aloud, tell him you do in fact love that about him and if he was all pure want a moment before, now he’s pure shock. 

But he plays it off in his way; you watch the intricate way he takes no more than a half-second to collect himself, just tipsy enough to get snagged on the words love that about you that the half-second seems a feature-length film to you—one you would watch over, over, over again. 

Osamu slides four fingers on one side of your jaw, thumb on the other—holding your chin gently but firmly in place so he can bore like fire into you.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asks, half sincere, half flirtatious. Your gaze scatters momentarily beneath his; you take a second, copy his recovery.  

You hesitate before you say, “I think I have some idea,” fully sincere, fully flirtatious. When you pinch your bottom lip between your teeth—not an unconscious habit but an intentional move in this game—he thinks this is what middle school boys must feel like the first time they get close to their crush. It sickens him so sweetly, like he’s swallowed a lump of sugar. He wants more. 

Your breath coils around his between your noses, between your mouths. The wine in your glass sloshes and settles.  

“Can I tell you what drives me crazy?” he breathes. 

You nod like you’ve been waiting lifetimes to know. 

He answers not with words but a touch to your lip—a stroke back and forth that leaves you parting for him. He leaves feather-light fingerprints on the sharp of your front teeth, pushing, slowly, forward until the hot muscle in your mouth cradles his thumb and he’s touching that devil-sent piercing of yours, the ball all at once cool and warm as it twirls to evade him.

“This,” he whispers, chasing the metal back and forth. “This drives me crazy.” 

You don’t respond with anything but suction, a soft bob of your head like you understand, and a hmm.

Osamu thinks he might implode beneath you. 

His attention has hardly ever felt so streamlined as when you search his face, circle his thumb, wet it for him to retract and drag down your chin while you draw your brow together like you miss it—his eyes are all yours, wide and waiting and holding the answers to all the questions drifting around, surrounding both of you. 

The kiss is searing as he pulls you into him—or, hardly has to, rather, as your eyes flutter shut and you lean to meet him, five of your fingers matching his grip but on his shoulder while you suffocate that mingled breath so it becomes mingled spit, mingled tongues. He worms himself past your lips, into you—he almost moans when the tip of his own tongue brushes across the jewelry sitting on the pad of your tongue like a pearl in an oyster. He’s finally cracking you open. It makes him smile wickedly into you. 

Your arms locking around his neck leave him rolling into you hotly, asking for you with anything but words which escape him again now—so uncharacteristic, but he’s lucky you’re both too entangled to notice, for words aren’t necessary right now; he’s ushering your wine glass out of your hand, setting his, too, onto the table so you can wind your fingers in his hair and tug, prompting the sweetest gasps that you echo back into him while he guides your hips across him. The fervor either of you holds is indistinguishable from the other; you grind, he grips you, the harder he grips you the harder you grind and vice versa until he’s biting down the column of your neck toward absolution. 

He mutters your name through an umph; you pick his lips back up the second he goes for air, and he goes for your tongue. When you pull back to observe him, mirroring you in kiss-puffiness and staccato breath, he’s wild between your eyes and your lips. 

“That’s all for you,” he tells you when he grabs your wrist and guides you to palm his cock before you hit him with another question for the ages—one that will not receive a verbal answer but a noise from his throat he swears he’s never heard himself make before.

“Wanna feel it?” 

God, has he ever wanted anything more in his life? The erection he’s built up just from kissing you, moving you against him, is all the evidence either of you need. 

Regardless, Osamu’s nodding fervently, chocolate locks swaying. 

So, you take your turn kissing down him until you’re pooled at his feet, between his knees, with devoted fingers undoing the button on his pants; the task at hand, so sweetly and circularly, has your tongue poking out in concentration as you work his waistband down. Osamu twitches at the sight—he doesn’t mean to mutter you’re so fucking adorable but he does, he does. It’s your turn to grin wickedly as you take his cock out, your turn to tease with your thumb on his drooling tip, your turn to explore with your mouth. 

You’ve had the reins all this time, really—from the first day you sat at your desk, making that attentive face. He must be the luckiest sucker in the world to have ended up here, with your shining eyes watching him fall apart as your honeyed lips guide him toward sweet devastation. 

The first stripe you lick up his underside sends Osamu’s head flying back, jaw falling slack on the end of a breathy “fuck!”

And he feels every stride of your tongue piercing when you wrap your lips around his tip and swirl. 

The sounds you draw from Osamu’s open mouth are like song; diligent in this task as you are every other one, it’s hardly a minute before he’s tangling his fingers in your hair, crooning your name between broken praises that come naturally as you hold him, lick him, look up at him with eyes that he thinks could turn him to stone—if only you had been evil, that is, but realistically, you can’t be anything other than an angel. 

“Pretty boy, you—” 

At that name, you groan. Take him further. 

And through how good it feels, he laughs. 

“Oh, you like that? Huh?” He could pull you off him if he wanted a response, but you’re too heavenly to interrupt—anyway, he already knows how you feel about pretty boy. 

You hum around him—another sensation that sends him reeling with oh, god on his lips. 

“That’s it… Feels s’good on me. Unh—yeah, like that…” 

Indirectivity and grandeur has always been something Osamu considers himself a professional in—everything you do throws him for a loop and the way you bob up and down does him no favors. He whines in the way he does when he’s already going to finish all too quickly, but the fact that it’s you bringing him to his end—his cute coworker he’s been pining after since your first day on the job, the one that’s inspired such foreign feelings of wonder in his long-gone-cold heart—has him unreservedly bucking his hips into your mouth as you rake your nails down his thighs, ardent in this undertaking, bobbing frantically like all you’ve ever wanted was to have him noisy and messy underneath you like this. 

“‘m gonna—oh, fuck!” 

But he doesn’t have to tell you; you feel him, spasming on your tongue against the otherworldly friction your jewelry provides—his true downfall, that thing, and the image of you formed around it—you pursue his climax like a predator pursuing prey, pulling away to give him that false sense of security as you rise to your feet, pounce back over him and kiss him so intensely while you handle him, jerk him to orgasm between your bodies; Osamu’s hoarse, aching as he humps the hole you make with your fist and chants yes, yes, yes, please! into your mouth, tasting metal, never wanting it to leave.

He settles into soft panting as you draw your fingers up; he’s beginning to speak— “You’re so—” but you’re cutting him off so he can suck your fingers, taste himself and the way you’ve shattered him so beautifully. And he does, he laps like a man possessed, obsessed with the flavor of himself if only it’s leaving your skin, before you let him continue. “You’re incredible. You and that piercing.” 

You huff out a laugh, but it’s true. He’s convinced you’re a dream in every sense of the word—how did he get so lucky, no—how did the earth get so lucky to have you dropped upon it, right here in Yokohama, doing such scandalous things with that godly mouth of yours? 

“I try,” you quip with a half-shrug, smiling softly, kissing him just so. 

“Do you, now?” Osamu Dazai, who so often loses those good things before he can really grasp them, takes note of another new sensation—unwavering resolve, in the amorous sense—and concludes that if he can help it, this dream will not slip away so quickly. He can’t possibly send you back up to heaven.

He grabs your hips, pulls you onto him. 

Everything you are—all hard working, handsome face, sweet disposition, and tongue ring—he’s wanted it for so long; it would be nonsensical, a tragedy, to let the same evening air you stumbled in on steal you away again.

This is a dilemma he doesn’t have a solution to; not immediately. 

But he speaks anyway, smirking and toying with the button on your pants, overwhelming your frame to put your back to the cushions—turn you into a mess for him.

“Your turn, pretty boy.” 

[akawifeyy]

LOVESTRUCK | smau pt.3 (AKA12)

description: a month after the hate messages sent to you by an anonymous account, you've begun the process of repairing the damage. the first step? reconnecting with kimi antonelli.

tropes: best friend's little sister, childhood friends, one-sided love, ob87 sister!reader

face claim: daniela avanzini

trigger warnings: suggestive content, hate speech (misogyny & covert death threats), swearing

| note: awee i love em 🥰 also this is part 3 / 3 fics!

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

comments (10357):

@ user1: tbh, it's a toss up. after all the scrutiny and hate, i wouldn't be surprised if y/n never showed her face again in public for fear of backlash. which is wild, bc she didn't even do anything wrong

-> @ user2: It just goes to show you how insane some F1 "fans" are.

@ user3: Even before all of this, Y/N was private. She's not coming out of her shell, and if she does, it's going to be months down the road.

@ user4: the belgian GP might be a good time for her to return, but i doubt that she will

-> @ user5: She usually posts GP pics, I'd be surprised if she broke that pattern (even though she technically already did)

Text messages between Kimi and Y/N (2025):

@ f1spotted: Haas driver Ollie Bearman and Mercedes driver Kimi Antonelli took photos with a fan last night in Belgium before the Grand Prix!

tagged: @ f1, @ f1gossip

comments (94):

@ user6: Where's Y/N 😕 We miss her

-> @ user7: she's like a ghost

@ user8: starting to think I imagined Y/N's existence because what do you mean she hasn't been seen or talked to by anyone for the past month?

-> @ user8: like yeah she was private before but at least she posted relatively steadily, her fans knew she was alive. and now we're in the dark

-> @ user9: The parasocial relationships between people and their favorite celebrities never fail to astound me

@ user10: BEARNELLI FOREVER 🐻🐉

@ kimiantonelli: P3 at Spa! All the hard work from the Mercedes team has made this year incredible 🖤

tagged: @ f1, @ mercedes

comments (8622):

@ user11: So proud of you Kimi🎉

@ user12: IS THAT Y/N

-> @ user13: the scream i scrumpt i think it is her

@ olliebearman: Slide 3... 🤨

Text messages between Kimi and Y/N (2025):

@ yourusername: i'm sorry, the old y/n can't come to the phone right now 🤭 this account will be managed by my boyfriend, kimi antonelli. mess with me and you'll be messing with him. and lastly, any and all hate comments can be returned to the address: "IDGAF". thanks 💋

tagged: @ kimiantonelli, @ olliebearman, @ f1

comments (314):

@ user5: THE QUEEN HAS ARISEN

-> @ user14: the taylor swift rep reference in her post omg 😏

@ user15: This is not a drill - Y/N's back!

@ user16: The strength and bravery you're displaying is awe inspiring

@ kimiantonelli: I love you, tesoruccia

-> @ yourusername: love you too, kimi

@ olliebearman: Here for you, always 💞

@ bearman.nation: Siblings Ollie and Y/N are finally both back on social media platforms, and they're both slaying as always 🤗

tagged: @ olliebearman, @ yourusername

comments (72):

@ user2: Y/N is flawless, I wish I could be more like her. 😓

-> @ user17: literally, her backbone is insane because I fear I'd absolutely need a padded room after these handful of months

@ user18: Y/N is GLOWING

-> @ user19: it's the hiatus + kimi antonelli combo

@ user8: gahhh they're both so pretty

@ kimiantonelli: I don't usually post many things outside of work, but I just wanted to say that it's me, my girl, and my F1 car against the world. The haters can be cruel, but I know the truth. Happy three months, tesoruccia 😘

tagged: @ yourusername

comments (5438):

@ yourusername: can't believe i've been stuck with you for 3 months already

-> @ kimiantonelli: 3 months and the rest of eternity

@ user20: CUTEST COUPLE AWARD

@ user11: Need me a love like Kimi and Y/N's

Statement released by Y/N (2025):

Text messages between Kimi and Y/N (2025):

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

[stinkysam]

Choi Subong “Thanos” - Ka-ching.

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : “thanos with a rich reader?” -anon

Reader : male (you/yours)

A/N : bold is in English

Oh, he’s so gonna use your money to his advantage. You freed him from his debts and are constantly paying him stuff, so he believes himself untouchable now.

You’re always spending money on him and he’s absolutely smug about it. A bit like a sugar baby but with feelings involved.

Don’t worry, he too spends your money as well.

Buying new high fashion clothes, special edition shoes, expensive rings. Sometimes he uses your own money to buy you stuff.

It’s the thought that counts, right ?

His clothes are really bright and colorful, with a few occasional darker ones, for you it’s the opposite. You own a lot of suits that are generally quite basic and dark but the colored and original looking ones come from him.

One day, you were staring at one of his bright orange t-shirts. It made you think of those fluorescent safety vests.

“Are you afraid to not be seen at night ?” You suddenly asked.

“Huh ?”

“It’s so bright I can’t look at it.” You continued, closing your eyes with a dramatic grimace. He scoffed, taking the shirt from your hands to put it on.

“Everyone’s in dark clothes.” He replied. “I want all eyes on me.”

You nodded, watching him put some cargo shorts on.

“You make me think of, uh, birds.” You smiled, trying not to laugh.

“Huh ? Birds ? Pigeons ?”

“When did I say pigeons ? Are pigeons the only birds ?” You sighed. “Birds try to mate by displaying their colorful plumage. Courting.”

He looked at you weirdly, thinking.

“Why the fuck are they attracted to colors ?” He asked, sitting on the bed to put his shoes on.

“Bright colors show their good health and that they’re genetically advanced. There’s more but I doubt you care that much.”

“You’d be a boring looking bird.” He said as you flopped next to him on the bed.

“Ah, you hurt my feelings, man.” You threw your hand in the hair, hitting his shoulder before letting it glide down his back. “You’ll learn that there’s no boring looking birds. Even pigeons. You’d be a pink-necked green one.”

He scoffed, standing up.

“Search it up ! It’s not as flashy as you but it’s still really pretty.” You said, resting on your elbows.

“You think I’m pretty ?” He asked with fake shock. “Homo.”

You snorted.

“No. Ugliest man I’ve ever laid my eyes on, get out of my house. I'm gonna scream.” You replied, throwing a pillow at him, hitting the back of his head as he laughed before exiting the room while flipping you off.

Later he sent you a text saying pink necked green pigeons were actually decent looking.

He says he doesn’t like asking for money yet he’s spending every won you give him.

He’s like this especially after his rap career flopped. He worked his ass off to succeed, made some money off of it and suddenly everything went to shit.

But now that he has your money, he can make a big comeback and shock everyone back to their places.

He’s trying to find a label that would want to work with him while making an album, already planning which song would have a music video and what’s gonna be in it. It’s far from cheap. Though it’s all just ideas for now as he hasn’t finished writing even half of it.

You had to put some limits to his spending habits. Because as much as you loved him, he was spending way too much like a teenager with zero perception of the cost of things and life in general.

Either you help him with his album but no more expensive clothes, shoes, cosmetics.

Or he can buy whatever he wants but does his album on his own.

He whined about it a lot, but chose you to help him with his album in the end.

“I still don’t understand why I can’t do both.” He sulked as you rubbed his back.

“Do you think I’m Jay Y. Lee ? Or maybe you miss your debts that badly ?”

“Of course not ! But I’m not spending that much !” He scoffed, rolling his eyes like a child.

You chuckled, raising your eyebrows at him.

“Maybe you should use your money to pay for all the things you buy in a month. What do you think ?”

“Huh ?” He stared at you, caught off guard. “No way ! Come on !”

“I don’t know. I like that idea.” You said with a shrug standing up and walking away. Thanos quickly followed you.

“Hey, let’s not be hasty.” He grabbed your shoulders, rubbing them. “You’re still gonna help me with my album, right ?” He leaned closer with a smile, wrapping his arms around you.

“Ah, should I ? I don’t know…”

“You told me you would !” He said as he slapped your shoulder, making you chuckle. That fucking brat.

“I’m fucking with you, of course I will. Just no other expenses.” You smiled, turning to face him.

He sighed, throwing his head back in frustration with a groan.

“Okay, fine. But you promise you’ll help me ?”

Your hands gently went to his face, pulling it closer as you caressed his cheeks before kissing his forehead.

“Of course. Pinky promise or whatever.”

He absolutely loves your house. It’s big and spacious and it’s equipped with recent gadgets. A fully equipped kitchen that looks like you never used it. You actually use it, well, not you but your cook does. And the food is always delicious.

The bed is definitely bigger than his. He still hogs all the blankets and most of the place.

He refuses to sleep on the sides, preferring to be in the middle because he fears he’s gonna fall. So if he goes to bed before you you’ll have to push him a bit especially if you like sleeping in the middle as well.

You let out a long sigh as you watch him sprawled on your bed, arms and legs open wide with the blanket wrapped around his body.

“Subong. Move.” You said, pushing him to wake him up. He hummed before replying.

“…no.”

He hissed as you placed your cold hand on his naked back, successfully making him move away from the middle.

You quickly laid down, pulling on the blanket wrapped around him.

“What are you doiiing ?” He asked with a groan, stretching, bones cracking.

“What do you think ? Going into my bed to sleep.”

He just hummed, not caring anymore about what you just said as he went back to sleep.

Just like you he’s not really patient if you go to bed first and sleep in the middle.

He scoffs as he climbs into bed and pushes you away from the center. You fight back, yawning half asleep as you try to not lose your territory.

“Fucking bastard, move !”

“Nooo. Fuck off !” You replied with a tired voice, wrapping your arms around him to trap him.

He tries to fight it but ends up giving up, falling asleep on top of you with a frown.

That scowl never really disappears even as he’s long gone, drooling on you.

You categorically refuse to let him drive your car. He has extreme road rage and drives with way too much confidence to be safe on the roads. And with how much your car had cost you, there was no way you could risk it.

Do not believe Thanos only loves you for your money. He definitely appreciates that part about you, don’t get it twisted. But he also really likes just spending time with you.

If you have free time, he’ll take you to the made-up studio in your house so you can stay with him. Sometimes he’ll record you making weird noises to put in the background of his songs or he’ll ask you to give him a beat.

He spends a lot of time there and as interesting as it is, it gets boring for you after some time. Hearing the same part over and over, random instruments, erasing it, making the same one but slightly different, going to another part, repeating it over and over. And so on.

If there’s a concert or show he can do, and the opportunity is rare now, he’ll invite you backstage even if he’s not allowed to.

He’ll just piss people off until they accept. You told him to stop because they’ll probably won’t ask to come back again if he’s too annoying. But he doesn’t care, you have to be here.

There’s a mental note in his brain to repay you completely once he's a well known and loved rapper. For now he’s just stuck dreaming.

But with a little bit more patience and your help, he can definitely make it and even make people forget about the lyrics troubles he had.

[blondrafe]

A lil valentines thing for my pretties while I drive home !!

cw; nothing really just kissing and a special ending. 😌

valentines day with rafe would be the best day you’ve ever experienced, with rafe showering you in kisses and making sure you were all pampered and pretty. He treated you to breakfast in bed, having gotten up extra early just so he could start the day off right for you.

Then afterward, he took you to the mainland. He told you to go pick out the prettiest outfit you saw, and he bought the whole thousand pound outfit you chose. He then took you to get your hair and nails done, paying for each treatment like it was nothing. He wanted his girl looking stunning, after all this was the day of love right?

It had been the sweetest day so far, and it was only getting sweeter. He took you to the cats protection centre, letting you hold and look at all the cats. You were over the moon, cuddling each cat and giving them kisses and treats. He stared at you in awe from afar, knowing how big of a heart you had for kitties.

After that, it was dinner. He took you to a fancy restaurant that had your favourite meal, and treated you to everything you wanted on the menu. You two talked and talked, and rafe just looked at you so lovingly the whole time.

And after that, it was around seven thirty. Perfect time for the valentines fireworks display. So you two made your way down to the little field it was being held on. The night had been perfect, and it was only going to get better.

It had started and you and rafe were holding each other close, rafe draping his jacket over your shoulders as the night grew chillier. He placed a soft kiss to your temple and made sure you were focused on the fireworks as he reached into his back pocket.

He got down on one knee, grabbing a small little black box. He tapped your shoulder, watching as shocked and love formed into your eyes as you seen him knelt before you. “No way.” You whispered, your hand coming to cover your gaping mouth.

Rafe smiled, nodding his head. “Y/n, y/l/n. I have loved you since the moment I layed eyes on you. I knew you were the one when you stayed with me throughout my addiction, and helped me get sober. When you stayed by me, I felt seen. I felt like a real man and I felt whole.” He began, watching tears brim in your eyes.

A few people started recording, smiles on their faces. “Your the most stunning girl I’ve ever met, and im more than grateful to have you. When I made you my girlfriend, I thought I had it all. But now, I realise I need to make you my wife. Y/n, will you marry me?”

The tears fell hot down your face as you nodded, repeating the word yes like a whispered prayer. Rafe grabbed your hand, placing the most beautiful ring on your finger. He stood up, smiling as he planted a sweet and tender kiss to your lips. Everyone around was awing, enjoying the moment just as much as you two.

This was the most perfect valentines day you could ever ask for

Happy valentines my little angels, I love you all so much and give everyone a big fat smooch! Hugs n kisses to all 🤍

[wihellib]

Reblogging this to add my kinda summarized opinions about Barbatos’ and Gamigin’s H scenes under the cut.

Barbatos

You nearly collapsed in the Hades palace, but Barbatos caught you, wearing an anxious expression you weren’t used to. He carries you into his rose garden, which is full of sunlight and vibrant colours unlike the rest of Hades. So, his kink is on full display here.

Barbatos sets you down in the middle of the garden and starts sniffing you all over, while waxing poetic about you. He waxes poetic about you the entire H scene. Lots of Sun and flower metaphors. Being showered with genuine compliments is very nice.

You are acting cold to him because of the whole poisoning situation. And I’m happy to see a bit of backbone from the MC that’s nonexistent when it comes to Leviathan. You question why he’s acting so into you when he tried to kill you and he implies that since he didn’t actually kill you it means he wasn’t trying to kill you (because you’d be dead if he truly tried).

Barbatos fingers you to climax, while encouraging you to cum as much as you want. He purposely removes his fingers so you squirt all over him and the grass. He thanks you for watering his garden.

He takes off his shirt (and we finally get to have an H scene where the guy has a shirtless sprite, since Barbatos already has a shirtless sprite for other reasons. It looks so much better, please give everyone a shirtless sprite for their H scenes, PB!)

Barbatos teases you for your cold words while at the same time looking at him with so much heat and compares you to Leviathan. He disrobes you and mouths at your chest, sucking and biting.

This is my favourite CG of all the H scenes. The proportions are good. The expressions are nice. The poses make sense. I think the roses in the background are pretty. I like the detail of the bite marks and other marks all over your upper body. Your hand griping his hair while one of his is suggestively at your crotch. Really, I just think it’s a very well done CG.

On a side note, I’m very surprised that they just had female MC’s nipple right out in the open in the CG. They usually try very hard to censor stuff like that and Barbatos could have easily just had one of his hands on top of it, but they didn’t do that. I just thought that was interesting.

You’re getting impatient with Barbatos’ teasing. He’s rubbing his tip at your entrance. He finally penetrates you when you say you forgive him. He jackhammers away at you and sucks at your chest. You release your grip on his hair and grab his horn. That gets him going even more. He uses flower and seed metaphors to imply he wants to impregnate you. Which was a very pleasant surprise for me.

You climax together, panting hard. You think about how you said you forgave him, but there still needs to be more of a discussion about it. Which is good, you’re showing some sensible post-nut clarity. After there’s good pillow talk. He starts smelling you again, but is upset that you don’t smell like the sun anymore. You laugh and reply that it makes sense since you smell like him now. Which makes him very happy. He praises and compliments you. It ends with him holding you while you sleep and reaffirming that he really wants to get you pregnant.

Very solid H scene, definitely in the top 3 for me.

Gamigin

Gamigin hugs you from behind to stop you from falling over. He can tell something’s missing from you and thinks you’re about to die. The Hades nobles start squabbling over who gets to help you, while the Tartaros nobles are off to the side already knowing it’s a lost cause.

Gamigin takes you to a shower room while they are distracted. He says it’s important for a patient to be clean, turning on the shower so the room fills with steam. Another H scene that has the guy’s kink front and centre.

You assume because of his innocent expressions and behaviour that Gamigin is not well versed in adult matters. But that is not true.

He drenches himself as he moves under the steam of water and he tells you to come to him. You’re completely overwhelmed by his presence, blocking out everything but him.

He recognizes your humanity and apologizes for being to eager with his ‘words’. The world comes back into focus for you. So, Gamigin seems to have some kind of mind control abilities.

Gamigin pulls us under the water with him, drenching us as well. He smoothly offers to help you out of your clothes so you don’t get sick. And you offer the same to him.

He pulls your shirt over your eyes so you can’t see and tells you to turn around. You bend over as he finishes taking off your and his clothes.

You realize he loves the sound of water hitting your naked body, so you turn the pressure up on the water.

The CG is okay. Lots of negative space. Just not as visually interesting as others.

He throws his head back in pleasure and you see his reverse scale on his neck. He muses that you caught him then penetrates you in a position lets him get deep.

He tells you about the open secret of him being a dragon, not a devil. You stutteringly tell him you’ll keep his secret, but Gamigin isn’t sure you will because you’re human. He covers your eyes again and says it would be better if you didn’t see it.

So, it turns out that canonically Gamigin has two dicks (Yes!!!) and he double penetrates you. I wish there was more prep and foreplay rather than him surprising you by just sticking it in.

He threatens you that if you don’t keep his secret then this is what’s going to happen from now on. You tell him you’ll keep his secret as long as he doesn’t stop right now.

Then, Gamigin wonders if he should cum inside you since he can get you pregnant unlike devils. And you enthusiastically want him to, pushing your butt back against him. Which is definitely not very smart since it would be a very bad idea to bring a baby into your current situation, but what do I know.

He, though, was ecstatic with your response and came inside you. He hugs you and looks contrite, wondering if you were scared. You ruffle his hair and tell him you’ll weren’t scared but you want him to trust you from now on. He smiles brightly.

Later on, he thinks happily about how you and him now share a secret.

I thought this H scene was fine but I was really hoping that Gamigin was going to be cutely submissive with you. Since he wasn’t, it was a bit of a let down for me. But I’m really glad it was confirmed he has two dicks. Overall, it’s middle of the pack in my personal ranking of H scenes.

Mammon was voted #1 in the Favourite H Scene poll here. Not really surprising. His H scene was quite good. Satan was 2nd and Foras was 3rd. I am surprised by Foras. I think there might be a bit of recency bias in this case.

Under the cut is my completely biased, quickly-written, kinda summarized opinions on each of the H scenes.

Satan

Satan staring at you without blinking while kissing and sleeping still throws me off.

I like that Satan reassures you that he’s doesn’t just like you because you’re the descendant of Solomon.

I don’t like hair pulling or strangulation, so not very fond of this scene, even though I like Satan a lot.

The CG is nice. I like how he’s grinning and the glow of his eyes.

Only features a little bit of spanking even though that’s his kink.

It’s mentioned that we’re feeling the pleasure that Satan’s feeling. This is done in several scenes. I’ve never liked it. It feels like a cop out.

The scene ends abruptly with you blacking out. I much prefer when there a bit of follow up/pillow talk afterwards.

Sitri

Sitri gives you tea to calm your nerves that makes your heart beat a lot faster and louder because of the caffeine… but I don’t think caffeine works to this extent, so creative liberty I guess.

His kink, hearing heartbeats, features prominently in this scene. Keeping his head near your chest, mouth on your chest, feeling your heartbeat through your intimate connection, and moving in time with your heartbeat.

You’re feeling turned on because he’s turned on, similar to Satan’s scene, still not a fan.

You feel more aroused as your heart beats faster and you think it might explode… I don’t see what’s arousing about that.

CG was good again. I liked that he’s showing a lot more emotion than his normal sprite usually does.

He calls you Solomon throughout, which is annoying, but does call you by your real name at the very end (the only time he’s done so).

Some pillow talk at the end which is nice.

Zagan

Zagan blushes and turns away when he sees your naked body, which is cute.

He’s quiet like usual, but does speak when you ask him why he wanted to help you, and says he wanted to do it with you and give you devils energy, while blushing. Very cute.

You get to take a bit more of a lead, be a bit more assertive, in this one, you’re not just manhandled around, which is refreshing.

I like that he seems to have a praise kink.

He tries to increase his muscle use, get a better workout, increase movement, which is his kink, which arouses him more, which arouses you. Fine whatever.

The CG is fine. Your foot looks wonky with its finger-like toes but Zagan looks good.

Some pillow talk again. Zagan has been mostly silent, but does say it was a good workout and he wants to do it again at the end.

Leraye

Leraye is completely overwhelmed by pleasure from hearing thunder, which is his kink. He basically tackles you onto the bed and glues himself on top of you.

I’m pretty sure this is the first time one of them play with your genitals during foreplay.

You are getting aroused from the thunder too, so we’re keeping the trend of whatever the guy likes you also like inexplicably.

MC comments he’s more like a growling wolf and not his golden retriever self.

I really like this CG. He’s completely on top of you, pressing you down on your stomach, while covering your eyes and biting your neck. His presence is overwhelming.

The thunder goes away and Leraye comes back to his senses. He’s so happy that it wasn’t a dream, smiling, lays down next to you, wishes you good dreams and kisses your forehead. I very much like this wind-down to the scene.

Paimon

We go to Paimon’s room instead of ours for this scene, which is a nice change of pace. His room is full of mirrors, which feature heavily in this scene. His kink, which is blood, isn’t included at all.

We’re also not naked right at the very start, which I much prefer. I like the undressing phase.

Paimon rubs your genitals and forces you to look at what he’s doing to you in the mirror, which he continues throughout the scene. I was surprised how dominant Paimon was in this scene, but I wasn’t against it.

Paimon says he loves pretty things and looking at pretty things from multiple angles. He says that you’re pretty and a devilish human.

He makes you brace your hands against a wall mirror and stuffs your shirt in your mouth.

The CG is good. For the first time we are shown a different angle than us on a bed. Paimon’s face seems a little off to me, but overall it’s good.

Paimon throws the mirror on the ground, so you’re forced to look at a different, more revealing angle.

Just a little bit of pillow talk. Paimon kisses us and tell us to come him when we want to play more.

Mammon

Back in Minhyeok’s room unfortunately. Mammon comes out swinging by immediately commenting on how skilled we look in accepting devil’s energy.

Mammon says that it was obvious since he first met you that he had to have you, but he also realized that he would just be one of many that would try that tactic. So, he decided to do something he’s never done before and let you have him. You will be his first master. He also reveals that he wasn’t as close to Solomon as the other Kings. You ask if he only likes you because you’re the descendant of Solomon and he replies that he just fell in love with you at first sight. This affection is clear throughout this scene, which increases its rank a lot for me.

Mammon’s kink is all about bottoms, and this scene reflects that. You’re both grabbing each other’s butts and getting more aroused.

Mammon picks you up and holds yours buttcheeks open while you wrap your arms around his neck. I like that Mammon is showing off his strength here.

I do wish that they had spent some time on Mammon using his fingers or tongue to prep you to take him. He is very large, evident by the fact that your first thought when he entered you was, ‘I am going to die’, so it would have been nice to see him care about making sure he doesn’t hurt you. He does hold himself still at first to let you adjust, but I still would have liked some prep beforehand.

The CG is good. No complaints.

Mammon flips you around, so you’re in a standing 69 position, showing off his strength again, and you give each other oral.

Longer pillow talk. He lays you on top of him, it was very nice.

Bimet

Bimet changes his tune about you real quick when Mammon declares you to be his master. He kneels before you and informs you that you became the being that arouses him the most with that declaration. He cannot covet Mammon, but now he can covet you, the only one who owns Mammon, and he is ecstatic about that. He wants to serve you. Bimet’s kink is wealthy people and you’re the wealthiest of all.

I do not like Bimet and I do not like his reasons for favouring you. It is shallow and fragile. He would be back to contempt for you the moment Mammon lost interest. I’m not a big fan of this H scene simply because I don’t like Bimet.

He licks your toes, which no thank you. He does oral on you and puts his conniving tongue to good use.

CG is good. I like how wet his mouth is because of you.

Some pillow talk. He gives you the first thing he truly owned himself, a coin from Solomon, and tells you to give it back to him if you choose him. I would have preferred if the first thing he owned wasn’t from Solomon.

Belial

You go to wrap your naked body in a blanket like you usually do, but Belial stops you and says you’ll end up taking it off anyways. The immediate assertiveness was surprising but interesting.

Because of his throat injury, Belial talks very little and Jjyu is not there to help him, so he communicates with you by writing on your naked body, which is his kink. It is a very good, intimate solution. He writes lots all over your body while fingering you.

You are against the wall, facing Belial, while he penetrates and writes adorations on you.

The CG shows that everything he’s written is glowing red on you. It’s a nice picture, but I could have done without him licking your armpit. I think I would have preferred a kiss in the lips instead.

Some pillow talk, you fall asleep with him inside of you.

Valefor

We have moved on from Minhyeok’s room, which is great. I felt it was much too restrictive, and caused repetitiveness.

Valefor reassures you and you tell him he is kind and reminds you of Mammon, which he approves of. When you see that he likes it, you lean more into the comparisons. Valefor is turned on by being compared to Mammon because he respects him greatly. You talk about Mammon a lot, but I wish it was a bit less, because this is supposed to be Valefor’s moment, not Mammon’s. His kink is supposed to be hearing explicit narratives, so I don’t think this really relates to it.

Valefor praises you for how well you know how to please a devil. And tells you to run away if you want to only know him as the kind relaxed Valefor.

Then we start going into exhibitionism territory, with him leading you to the closed door, where Bimet is just outside keeping watch. This is also not his kink.

Bimet leaves to check something, so Valefor increases the risk factor and opens the door while you’re both naked and penetrates you.

The CG is fine. The way you and he are positioned are a bit odd. It’s hard to tell whose body part is whose.

Valefor basically taunts you asking where Bimet is, then puts you in an even more embarrassing position.

Some pillow talk. He lifts you up, kisses your forehead, and you admire his chest.

Leviathan

Levi decides to give you devil energy even though he doesn’t like you. He hangs you and insults Minhyeok in an effort to make you mad so you hurt him, which will arouse him. So that’s what happens.

The CG is my least favourite of all of them. You start stomping on his lap and dick. Your toes are oddly long again and you have an oddly muscled thigh. Levi is not even naked. This is the only CG that doesn’t take place during some sort of penetration.

You straddle him and start strangling him and enough clothes have been taken off at this point that he penetrates you.

Then you kissed him for so long that you were both feeling oxygen deprived. He is in awe that you showed him there’s another way to suffocate. He thinks you’re talented. Only very little pillow talk.

I don’t like Levi. The way he acts and talks to you. I don’t like it at all. I also don’t like breath control, his kink, or anything to do with strangulation/choking, or beating people up. So this H scene was not for me at all.

Glasyalabolas

Glasy’s kink is necrophilia, and they include his kink in the H scene by making you as limp as a corpse after kissing him. Oh boy. I’m not fond of Glasy and I don’t like the idea of not being in control of yourself and unable to move at all. So this scene ranks very low for me.

He licks your toes, not a fan. He plays with your chest and nipples. He spreads you open and just stares, then performs oral on you, while keeping you spread open.

He makes your limp hand jerk him off, then uses your slack mouth. This is the second time you performed oral on a demon. This is what the CG shows, though I would have preferred if they picked something else.

Then he manhandles you into position to penetrate you. He cums inside you. Then he moves to your throat again and comes there too. This is the first time the guy has come twice in an H scene.

There is pillow talk. He wraps you in his cape, holds you and kisses you as the limpness wears off. He tells you he’ll fetch you when you die, but it’s good you’re alive now.

Foras

You realize you need devils energy, but none are around you right now, so you start masturbating. You hear the door open, but don’t see anyone. Foras is invisible, which plays into his kink.

He starts playing with your genitals while invisible. You realize who he is and call out to him, but he ignores you.

Finally he tells you to take off your clothes, pose embarrassingly, and just sit there in silence while he watches while still invisible. The dominance he’s displaying is unexpected, but fine.

Foras puts his dick near your mouth and you suck him off.

He penetrates you, again while all the while being invisible, so it looks like you’re being fucked by a ghost.

The CG could be better. His expression looks a little wonky and you’re clothed in it even though you’re supposed to be naked.

Foras informs you that he was there for every H scene. He really liked that you never noticed him.

He doesn’t let you see him afterwards, which I think he should have. He gets your permission to keep watching you having sex. Then he inexplicably cums on your face after you fall asleep. No thank you sir. And for some reason you don’t even comment on it after you wake up.

Overall

I liked Leraye, Mammon, Belial, Zagan, Paimon, and Valefor H Scenes the most.

[gul4bjamoons]

✩ scoops of doubt; 

         aurélien tchouaméni ────── 

     grabbing ice cream after a meal is a cherished tradition for the two of you, but the sweetness fades when a single comment sends your emotions over the edge.

⭑  wordcount : four thousand four hundred sixty-seven.

⭑  notes : not sure if you guys will like this fic as it is more sensitive, but i wanted to write about a topic that everyone struggles with to some extent: body image. everyone’s body is beautiful and comes in different sizes; as for this story i picked a reader on the chubbier end and will be diving into some insecurities that they could face. i tried my best to display this topic in an appropriate manner and and as always, my dms are open if you ever need someone to talk to, though i'm not a professional. <3

warning : body image struggles

˙⋆✮ masterlist.

Going out with Aurélien was always special, and tonight was no exception. You both enjoyed taking turns picking places for your date nights, and no matter where you dined, you always ended up at your guy’s favorite ice cream shop afterward. This summer evening, it was his pick—a hidden gem that his teammate, Federico Valverde, had strongly recommended. After just a few bites, it was obvious that the footballer had made the perfect choice.

The night was filled with the usual tender smiles and exchange of dishes. Each of you stealing bites from one another and debating whose choice was the superior one. It was silly, but it made the meal feel more like an adventure in itself.

“Okay, so I definitely picked the best dish this time,” Aurélien grinned, as he leaned over to offer you another bite of his meal. “I knew you’d love it.”

You raised an eyebrow, teasing him. “Oh really? Are we going to keep a tally of who picks the better dish? Because, overall, I’m pretty sure I’m winning right now.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, no. You definitely think you are, don’t you? But you can’t deny that this is a strong contender.”

You pouted, taking the bite he offered. "Fine, you win this round. But next time, I’ll make sure to pick something even better."

He leaned back, giving you a playful, mock-dramatic look. “This is war, then. Prepare for the next round.”

You both laughed, enjoying the easy rhythm of the conversation. The little games you played over shared bites of food made the whole experience feel so much more fun.

“So,” Aurélien started, swirling his wine in his glass. “If I win this little food battle we’ve got going, what do I get as a prize?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think it over. “Hmm, well, what kind of prize do you think you deserve?”

He leaned in with a teasing smile. “A kiss, obviously.”

“A kiss, huh? ”Your lips curling into a playful smile as you raised an eyebrow. “Well, I guess I could be persuaded,” you teased, a flirty spark in your eyes.

Aurélien leaned in close, a teasing smirk on his face. “Come on,” he whispered.

You let out an exaggerated sigh, playing along, and your thumb grazed his cheek as you leaned in like you were going to kiss him. But, just before your lips met his, you quickly swiped your thumb across the side of his mouth, wiping off the sauce he’d missed earlier. His eyes widened, and he groaned in disbelief, clearly disappointed. 

“Oh, come on!” he muttered, though he couldn’t help the small smile that crept back on his face. 

A mischievous laugh escaped your lips as you watched him, his mock frustration only making the moment more delightful. The soft glow of the candlelight danced across his face, highlighting the amused sparkle in his eyes. It was as if you guys were in your own bubble of happiness.

You savored the moment, the rich flavors of the meal dancing on your tongue as you made your way through the courses. Aurélien’s rants about training filled the space between you, his voice blending with the clink of silverware against plates. It felt almost dreamlike—the way the world outside faded away as you both sank deeper into the rhythm of each other’s company. You both finished your plates slowly, savoring the last few mouthfuls, reluctant to leave the comfort of the cozy Italian place. 

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick before we head out.” Your boyfriend stated as he squeezed your hand to signal his departure.

You nodded, watching as Aurélien stood and melted into the crowd, his tall frame effortlessly disappearing toward the restrooms. Left to your own thoughts for a moment, you took a slow sip of your drink, letting your eyes drift around the warm ambience. As you glanced over the dessert menu, you pondered your options. You knew you’d both end up at the ice cream shop later—it had become a tradition—but maybe you could share something here first. It seemed like the perfect compromise. After all, the idea of a sweet Italian pastry was tempting. A crisp cannoli? Or a velvety tiramisu? You couldn’t decide, so you waved down the waiter, hoping for a little guidance.

“Excuse me, could you help me choose between the cannoli and the tiramisu?” you asked, flashing a smile. “Which one do you recommend?”

“Oh, another order?” The waiter raised an eyebrow. “Well, the tiramisu is world-class, but after all that, I doubt you’d even fit in your dress anymore.” He chuckled as he answered you.

The words hit you instantly, meant to be playful but coming across with an edge that caught you off guard. You froze, a flush creeping up your neck as the comment sank in. For a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. 

A wave of self-consciousness washed over you, and instead of anger, you felt a rush of awkwardness. Was that really necessary? You opened your mouth to say something, but the words never came.

Finally, you let out a small, nervous laugh, trying to brush off the discomfort. "Uh, yeah... can I just get the check, actually?" you said, offering a tight smile as you reached for your drink, hoping the awkwardness would pass. 

The waiter nodded, clearly unaware of the effect his words had, and turned to go. You sat back in your chair, fiddling with the napkin in your lap. You shook your head slightly, trying to push the feeling aside. You felt silly for letting the situation impact you like this. Nothing had seemed overtly wrong. Just… a bit strange. But then again, it could have just been in your head.

Although the waiter left, it felt like every eye in the room was suddenly fixed on you, each gaze heavy with judgment. Of course, you knew this wasn’t true—logically, you understood no one was staring at you—but that didn’t stop the feeling from washing over you like a cold wave. Your body suddenly uncomfortable in the chair, too much for the space around you. The fabric of your outfit felt suffocating now—clinging to you in ways that highlighted every inch. You wished you could just disappear.

Your stomach twisted, the pressure growing unbearable, the feeling of nausea even crept in. Every breath felt like too much effort, too loud, as if just being alive was drawing in too much attention. Your arms crossed over your torso instinctively, hoping you could somehow hide yourself from the world. But nothing helped, the ache was deeper than anything you could physically conceal. Your thighs pressed against the seat, and you could swear they expanded under the weight of your thoughts, a cruel trick of perception that only fed the panic rising inside you.

The heat clung to you, pressing down on your chest, its weight making each breath feel shallow and strained. It was like being trapped inside the very furnace that had just baked your pizza, the warmth heavy and stifling, consuming everything in its path.

You managed to steady yourself before Aurélien returned, but the floor beneath you betrayed every shift. Each small movement sent a sharp creak reverberating through the silence, an intrusive sound that seemed to echo your every restless gesture.

As Aurélien came back, the waiter dropped the check off. Your boyfriend’s focus immediately shifting to it, his hand instinctively reaching for his wallet. He sat down across from you, as he placed down his card. 

You tried to hide the faint tremor in your hands and the nervous habit of tugging at the hem of your dress, hoping he wouldn’t notice. It was a silly plea when you considered the fact that Aurélien had been trained on the pitch to detect even the smallest shifts in movement—to read the slightest twitch of a muscle or the faintest change in posture. It was second nature to him, a skill honed over years of relentless focus.

So, of course, he noticed.

“You okay, mon amour?” he asked gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. He wasn’t demanding, wasn’t pushing, just offering you a space to speak.

You swallowed, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Mhm, just tired,” you muttered. 

Aurélien didn’t press further, but the eerie quiet between you lingered once he stood up from the table as he thanked the waiter. He reached for your hand as you both moved toward the door, his grip warm and steady, though his fingers tightened slightly, as if sensing something was still off. You followed him outside, the streetlights cast long shadows across the pavement.

As you approached the car, Aurélien opened the passenger door for you, his usual confident smile back in place, though there was something in his gaze that seemed to weigh you down even more. You sat down staring out the window, the city passing by like a blur as he drove, you hoped for a reprieve from the heavy feeling in your chest.

With dinner finished, the next step in your routine should have been a trip to the charming little ice cream shop nearby, a tradition that had started on your first date. It was a small, unassuming parlor where, with complete confidence, he had declared he could figure out your favorite flavor just by looking at you. Of course, he was wrong—but his confidence had made you laugh so hard your stomach ached, and in the end, you picked that flavor as your new favorite.

Yet tonight, the thought of ice cream twisted your stomach in a different way.

“Aurélien… I’m not really feeling it tonight,” you said in a hushed voice, trying to sound as neutral as possible. 

Aurélien shot you a glance, brow furrowing. “Not feeling it?” he echoed, as if the words themselves were foreign.

You nodded. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll get any ice cream”

His face fell slightly, a small frown tugging at his lips, but after a moment, he nodded. "Okay."

Instead of heading toward the ice cream shop, he smoothly made a U-turn at the next light.

“Wait, did you not want anything either?” you asked, blinking at him.

He glanced over at you with a half-smile. “It’s okay. Ice cream doesn’t taste nearly as good unless I’m sharing it with you.” He paused for effect, his grin widening. “I mean, have you ever tried chocolate chip cookie dough all alone? It’s just... sad."

You let out a soft chuckle, your shoulders relaxing a bit. "You’re ridiculous."

He just shrugged, eyes still on the road. "Hey, I swear the flavor will grow on you one day."

You looked back out the window, resting your head against the cool glass, feeling the weight of your earlier thoughts lighten just a little. 

Then, his hand reached for yours, his grip warm and steady. His thumb traced gentle circles on the back of your hand, a quiet, soothing motion—one that seemed to soothe something deep inside you, though he was unaware of what.

When he pulled into the driveway, he turned to you, opening his mouth as if to say something. But you were already unbuckling your seatbelt, reaching for the door handle before he could voice his concern.

“I’m gonna go change,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You didn’t wait for a response, slipping out of the car and into the house, where the warmth should have been comforting but only felt suffocating.

Aurélien lingered in the entryway, watching you disappear up the stairs, his frown deepening. This wasn’t exhaustion. This wasn’t just a passing mood. This was something deeper, something festering just beneath the surface, something eating at you from the inside out. And he knew. He always knew. 

But he also understood you wouldn’t talk until you were ready. With a quiet sigh, he leaned against the doorframe, dragging a hand down his face before slowly removing his shoes, giving you the space he knew you thought you needed.

Upstairs, you hurried to the bedroom, the door swinging shut behind you—or so you thought. You barely noticed it remained slightly ajar, too preoccupied, too desperate to strip yourself free from the weight clinging to you.

Your dress pooled at your feet, as if even the fabric was eager to rid itself of you. Shedding you like an old skin—but unfortunately, this was no simple transformation. You didn’t even spare it a second glance before tossing it onto the chair in the corner. Your heart hammered in your chest, beating so fast you could feel it in your throat.

Your hands reaching for one of Aurélien’s shirts—the one that always offered solace in ways nothing else could, especially when he was away, swallowed by the distance of football and travel. But just as you were about to pull it fully down on yourself, your gaze flickered to the mirror.

And everything stopped.

The reflection didn’t greet you with kindness. It didn’t soften its edges, didn’t smooth out the harsh truths you spent so long ignoring. 

It stared back, merciless, cruel in its honesty, dragging your eyes down the lines of your body like an artist outlining every flaw with deliberate strokes. As if it’s not just your body that feels burdened, but your mind too.

Your stomach—softer than you wanted, pushing outward when you wished it would vanish instead. The skin stretching slightly, smooth with a few faint lines marking where it met your waistband.

Your chest—felt fuller than before, both physically and emotionally heavy. The discomfort pulling at your spine, making every movement feel strained. 

But worst of all? Your thighs.

You let your shirt slip, falling softly over your figure as your hands instinctively found their way to your thighs. Your fingers pressed into the warm flesh, grasping, as if to test reality. You felt the resistance of how they refused to shrink, to yield, no matter how desperately you willed them to. Each inch of flesh that you grip only deepens the chasm between who you are and who you wish to be. There’s a sense of helplessness in the way your fingers meet the soft curve of your thighs, like you’re at war with your own skin. 

You want to recoil, to pull your hands away, but they stay, as if your own touch has become a punishment. You close your eyes for a moment, trying to block out the reflection in the mirror, but even with your lids shut tight, it’s as though the image is burned onto the back of your eyelids. The feeling doesn’t go away, not even in the dark. It lingers, clinging to your skin like an unwelcome shadow that refuses to leave.

You wanted to sever off the parts that wouldn’t obey. 

Your breath hitched, nausea pooling in your stomach. The mirror made a mockery of you, highlighting every insecurity, every whispered doubt, every cruel thought that lurked beneath the surface. You crossed your arms over yourself, dread curling around your ribs like barbed wire. A sickening thought sank its claws into you:

Why would he want you when you look this way?

The thought struck without warning, a tightening coil cutting off the oxygen to your lungs.

Would he still trace his fingers over your skin with that same reverence? Still hold you, still love you, when you felt like nothing but a burden too heavy to carry? If you couldn't even love yourself, then how could anyone else?

The faint sound of movement drew your attention, and a chill swept through you. You spun, and there he was—Aurélien Tchouaméni, standing in the doorway, his eyes shadowed with something you couldn't quite place. His heart silently shattering as he watched the person he loved more than anything crumble beneath the unbearable weight of their own reflection.

He had seen everything.

Your arms yanking down the shirt, a pathetic attempt to shield yourself from his gaze, but it was too late. His expression was no longer just concern—it was heartbreak. For you. For whatever cruel battle you were fighting inside your own head.

“Mon amour,” his voice was quiet, hesitant, as if afraid to startle you.

You wanted to say something, anything, but your throat had closed up. Embarrassment burned through you, hot and suffocating. You felt exposed, vulnerable in the worst way, like every insecurity you tried to hide had been laid bare for him to see.

Tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them away. "I—I’m fine…really I—"

“Amour…” he interrupted gently, stepping inside the room, closing the distance between you both. “Please, don’t try to hide from me.”

You shook your head, averting your gaze. “I can’t—” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed, shaking your head harder. “Please... just give me a minute. I don’t want you to look at me when I’m like this.”

Aurélien’s expression faltered, his brows furrowing as the hurt on his face became undeniable. He reached out, his voice barely above a whisper. “Like what?” he asked, stepping closer, his heart in his eyes. 

“Like this— I’m a mess,” you whispered, gesturing at yourself like your own body was something disgusting, something shameful. “Like—like I take up too much space. Like I’m too much. I—I don’t feel like—"

The footballer sighed, stepping back, running a hand over his head. His jaw clenched, and his whole body tensed.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. His hands curling into fists at his sides. “Who made you feel like this?” His voice was quiet, his protectiveness beaming through.

“Who?” he asked again, not taking your silence as a response.

You could hear the barely veiled frustration underneath, but not at you—never at you. It was anger at whoever had planted this seed of doubt in your mind, at whatever had made you believe that you were anything less than extraordinary.

You swallowed, shaking your head. “Well the waiter,” you finally admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “He made some stupid comment, but… it’s not just that.”

“Tell me you’re joking,” he said, his posture stiffening.

You let out a shaky breath, shaking your head. “I wish I was.”

His fingers curled into fists at his sides, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “If I’d heard it—” he exhaled sharply, reigning in his anger. “I would’ve said something.”

“I know,” you sighed. “But it’s not just about what he said. It’s how I’ve been feeling for a while actually.”

Aurélien exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face before stepping closer, his hands hesitating before cupping your face. His thumbs caught the next tear before it could fall. "Amour… I love you so much," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Please, just talk to me about it."

The weight of his words unraveled something in you, and before you could stop it, a sob broke free from your throat. Your knees buckled slightly, but Aurélien caught you as you stumbled, his arms scooping you up, strong but delicate. His warmth enveloped you entirely, and for the first time all night, you felt at ease as you laid in bed.

“I hate that you feel like this,” he murmured against your temple, pressing a lingering kiss there. “I hate that someone made you doubt how incredible you are.”

You let out a choked laugh, but it held no humor. “It’s not someone, it’s me,” you admitted, voice trembling. “It’s how I’ve felt for a bit.”

His hold on you tightened, his jaw tensing against your hair. He was quiet for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was raw. “Still, I wish I could just make it all go away. You shouldn't have to carry this alone. I’ll carry it with you.”

More tears slipped down your cheeks as he peppered your face with kisses. His lips brushed over your skin in the softest, most reverent way. But then his hands found your thighs, gripping them firmly, kneading them as if committing them to memory. His fingers traced over the softness of your stomach, his grip both possessive and tender.

“Mon amour,” he whispered, voice husky, thick with emotion. “Do you know how perfectly you fit against me?” 

Like you were made to be there, pressed into him like the missing piece of a puzzle.

A shiver ran down your spine at the sheer conviction in his voice, the way his hands never wavered as they caressed you, he was worshiping every inch. He pressed a hot, lingering kiss to your jaw, then down your neck, his breath fanning over your skin.

“I love being suffocated by your thighs,” he murmured, nipping playfully at your skin, earning a startled laugh from you despite the tears still clinging to your lashes.

You swatted at his arm, pushing at his chest. “Aurélien!”

He grinned against your skin, placing one last kiss to your temple. “What? I’m just telling the truth.”

You sniffled, hands clutching at his shirt, the fabric bunching between your fingers. “I just don’t feel—”

“Shhh,” he interrupted gently, cradling your face again so you had no choice but to look at him. His eyes were burning with something fierce, something unshakable. “You are enough, mon amour. You always have been. And if you can’t see it right now, that’s okay—I’ll remind you every single day.”

A broken sob escaped your lips, but this time, it wasn’t from sadness alone. 

It was from the overwhelming love, the sheer depth of what this man was offering you. A love so pure, so unwavering, that for the first time, the voice in your head telling you that you “weren’t enough” quieted.

Aurélien exhaled, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t care if we have to stay up all night, but I’m not letting you go until you understand how much I love you.”

You let out a wet laugh, sniffling. “That might take a while.”

His lips quirked up, but his eyes were still serious. “Then I hope you’re comfortable, because I’ve got all the time in the world for you.”

Another moment of silence passed, your ears pressed to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat. He took a deep breath, then smiled—this time lighter, with something familiar in it.

"You know what we need?" he asked, his voice soft but certain.

You blinked up at him, still sniffling. “What?”

“Ice cream.”

You let out a scoff, shaking your head. “I just said I didn’t want any.”

“And I just decided that’s unacceptable,” he said, guiding you toward the door. “Come on, we’re going.”

You gave him a half-hearted glare, but he simply grinned ear to ear. “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

A small smile broke through your haze of sadness. “Fine. But no more strange flavors!”

-

The drive to the ice cream shop was quiet, filled only by the soft hum of the music playing in the background. Aurelien’s hand never left yours, his touch a steady reassurance, grounding you in the present. Every now and then, he’d steal a glance at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips, as if he were silently reminding you that you weren’t alone.

When you stepped into the familiar little shop, the soft chime of the bell above the door echoed in the stillness, and for a moment, the weight pressing down on your chest lifted just a little. The warm scent of freshly made waffle cones filled the air, wrapping around you like a gentle embrace.

Aurélien made a show of examining the menu, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “I think… I’m going to pick for you, just like our first date.”

You arched a brow, crossing your arms as you challenged him. “Oh? And what makes you think you’ll get it right this time?”

He smirked, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Because I know you, mon amour.”

A few minutes later, Aurélien handed you a cone with a knowing grin. The flavor he picked wasn’t just good—it was perfect. Honey Vanilla Bean.

“You know, I really wanted to go with blueberry,” he admitted with a teasing smirk. “But I figured… you deserve something like you. Sweet, comforting, a little bit of warmth when everything feels cold.” He paused, feigning exasperation. “Also, I really didn’t want to get yelled at over an ice cream scoop.”

You shook your head in disbelief, holding back a grin. “Alright, fine. You win.”

His grin was smug as he bumped his shoulder against yours. “So, can I get my prize now?”

With a playful glint in your eye, you stood on your tiptoes and pulled him in, pecking his lips. The moment was brief but full, the sweetness melting between you as his fingers brushed your waist, holding you steady.

Hand in hand, you wandered outside and settled onto the curb, the cool night air wrapping around you like a quiet embrace. Aurélien pulled you closer, his warmth a contrast to the gentle chill. 

Aurélien nudged you with his elbow, holding out his own cone. "Here, try some of my chocolate chip cookie dough. I even got star-shaped sprinkles on it."

Rolling your eyes as you leaned in, ready to taste it, but just as your lips parted, the ice cream dripped on to your face. Your eyes widened in shock as he burst into laughter.

Before it could roll off your body, Aurélien leaned in without hesitation, licking the ice cream off your face before pressing a brief, puckish kiss to your lips.

“There, crisis averted.” He announced smugly, pulling back with a satisfied smirk.

You shoved him away with a mix of laughter and disbelief. "Eww Aurélien, what is wrong with you?!"

He grinned, completely unfazed. "Oh, plenty, but you still love me."

You rolled your eyes, but as you looked at him—at the man who had spent the last hour trying to hold you together when you felt like you were falling apart—you felt your heart flutter.

“I do,” you whispered, leaning into his side.

His arm tightened around you, holding you securely in his arms as his cheek rested against your hair. “Good. Because I love you more. Every single part of you.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you actually believed it.

© gul4bjamoons

[evenyvn]

Jealous?

rockstar!fem!reader x idol!seonghwa

summary : after a long busy day, you just want to slip under the blanket and sleep, atleast that is until you saw your boyfriend's recent post...

cw : sfw, kinda suggestive if you squint, hwa is a tease, this is a part of this series but can be read as a stand alone (i swear i will write for the others after this, I'm just crazy over his recent post so this is VERY self-indulgent as always).

masterlist

It's been a long day today, you got up early in the morning to practice for your up coming comeback with your group, and then spend a few more hours cooped up on your studio to write more songs.

Your bandmates have been grew worried by your state, the increasing stress from the up coming comeback is taking a toll on you, not to mentioned the constant feeling of missing your boyfriend—that's currently on tour right now—is making you locking yourself up in your own studio to compose more songs just to cope with the yearning, but surely it's only making your stress increase tenfold.

Sure, you both can text each others, but between the time zones differences and both of your busy schedule, you can only text each others 'good night' or 'good morning' more often than not.

And finally after a long day you just want to slip under your blanket and catch a few hours of sleep until you have to get up early again to repeat the same routine.

Now you sigh as you lie in bed, after you did your nightly routine and changed into comfortable sleeping clothes, you pull up your phone deciding to check up on your social media before going to bed, you were casually scrolling through your Instagram until you saw it.

Seonghwa had posted a photo dump.

The first two pictures were harmless—him in a bathrobe, the lights of the bathroom illuminating his face perfectly, his face looks tired from his shows but that makes him even more attractive to you, 'pretty' you thought as you smiled fondly and press the like button.

you scroll again to see the third picture—a picture of a cloud shaped bath bomb you assume, you giggled at the picture, aside from those gorgeous magazine worth of pictures seonghwa posts, he sometimes slip some silly things that caught his eyes.

But then you swiped.

And froze.

Seonghwa wasn’t fully in the water, but the image was just suggestive enough—his collarbones on full display covered by soap foams, wet strands of hair framing his face, water droplets on his skin catching the dim bathroom lighting in an almost artistic way. His gaze was sultry, plump lips slightly pouting, and—

You slammed your phone down.

Immediately, you snatched it back up, opening your messenger app and hit the FaceTime button after finding your boyfriend's contact.

It barely rang twice before Seonghwa picked up, his face appearing on screen. Except, instead of being anywhere near a bathtub, he was already in bed, dressed in his soft pajama shirt under the blanket. He was smiling—no, smirking—as if he had been expecting this call.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, his sleepy voice reached your ears, a little bit tired but still warm nonetheless with a hint of tease on the edge. “You miss me that much?”

you narrowed your eyes. “Don’t act cute. We need to talk.”

Seonghwa bit his lip to hold back a laugh. “About what?”

You huffed dramatically, sitting up. “Don’t about what me! You know exactly what I’m talking about. What is this—” You held up your other phone to show his Instagram post, specifically the bathtub pictures. “And why did you post it?!”

He chuckled, shifting under his blanket. “Ah… that?” His eyes sparkled with mischief. “You didn’t like it?”

“That’s not the problem,” you whined, pouting. “Do you see the comments? People are losing their minds, Seonghwa! Everyone’s going feral over you, and I’m stuck here alone while you’re on tour.”

Seonghwa hummed, clearly enjoying this. “Mmm… so you’re jealous?”

“Yes!” you admitted without hesitation. “I am very jealous! My man is out here looking like a whole art piece in the bathtub while I can’t even be there to—” you stopped yourself, mouth clamping down shut when you realized where your words were going.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow while smirking knowingly. “To…?”

You groaned, flopping onto your pillow. “You’re so annoying.”

His laugh was deep and full of amusement. “Baby, it’s just a picture.”

“Just a picture? hwa, people are drooling in the comments. One person even said, 'Born to ride, forced to scroll.’ Do you understand?”

Seonghwa grinned. “What does that even mean?.”

“It's- you know when- ugh nevermind" you huffed dejectedly as you struggle to explain, making your boyfriend chuckle at your frustrated state.

He laughed again before softening, tilting his head slightly. “You know you’re the only one I want, right?”

You peeked at him from your pillow, still sulking. “I know,” you muttered. “I just don’t like sharing. I thought those were just for my eyes only”

His smirk returned. “Oh? Should I delete it, then?”

You paused, eyes flickering to the post, finally deciding to scroll some more, a few more picture of him in the bathtub appear, you smiled slightly at the cute poses he did on the pictures before sighing. “… No, leave it.”

“Why?” he said with amusement in his voice.

You sighed dramatically. “Because even though I’m jealous, I also want to brag that my boyfriend is the finest man alive.”

Seonghwa chuckled, his gaze turning fond. “You’re ridiculous,” he murmured, voice laced with affection.

“Yeah, yeah,” you grumbled. “Just hurry home soon so I can remind people that you’re mine.”

His smirk deepened. “Oh? I’d like to see you try.”

Your stomach flipped. Stupid, smug, perfect boyfriend.

The call lasted for another hour, filled with teasing, laughter, and Seonghwa making sure you knew just how much he adored you. And even though you were still sulking over that picture, by the end of the night, you were smiling just as much as he was.

@.yn_luclipse tweeted :

divider by @/adornedwithlight | likes and reblogs are VERY appreciated ♡

[megapteraurelia]

hiii just saw your post about needing distraction and if i can help you even a little bit then i’d be happy to!! so id like a drabble with akaashi, f!reader or gn!reader, fluff, at uni?? if that’s fine?? have a lovely day <33

zeugmas and feelings.

summary | akaashi keiji and you found each other while trying to survive deadlines. or: how to not get anything done because akaashi keiji is just so damn pretty. warnings | none! it's meet-cute and fluff :3; fem!reader word count | 4449. a/n | elie, i love you, you precious!!! thank you for this and i'm sorry that i didn't keep to the idea of a drabble. for the life of me, i could NOT pass up writing several moments of akaashi so there's 4.5k words full of them instead T_T i hope i made it justice, though :3 please let me know what you think! -` ♡ ´-

the library was silent on sunday; eerie yet comforting in a way. 

the sun had long since set, the last of the rays that came through the windows bathing everything in a light that felt more nostalgic than it actually was before it dipped everything outside in a dark cloak. among the typing sounds on different kinds of laptops, their engines more than ready to take off after being used for so long, there was only the ticking of the clock, sometimes a soft clearing of throats or the gentle clink of a thermo cup being set down.

looking up from the mock exam you were taking for your cultural studies class, flexing your cramped fingers and rolling your shoulders, your eyes found the only other person sharing your space that late. you didn’t mean to look over at him lest you made anybody feel awkward, but in an entire picture of stillness before you, the movement drew your eyes naturally.

his fingers were swift, flying over the keyboard, gaze trained at his screen, trusting his hands to instinctively and automatically follow the letters. you couldn’t see his eyes properly, though, the glare of the laptop reflecting off his glasses. though you could see the little furrow of concentration in his brows, his teeth worrying his lower lip as he halted for a second, thinking. then nodding to himself, they resumed their display of a gear having turned in his brain. 

your eyes wandered away from him to your own screen, the words staring at you, and you wondered once again whether you should have chosen a different topic to cover in this assignment. would american history work better? did you have enough characteristics to explain the relevance in the corresponding text? or did you perhaps want to stay focusing on orientalism? 

after all, american history was your current topic discussed in class, its myths and ideologies, transformation of gender roles, the age of realism and science. it would be easier to just focus on any of those: the harlem renaissance, counterculture and postmodernism, the gilded age— 

you rubbed your eyes, and a sigh escaped your mouth, strong and carrying a lot of exhaustion; your lungs pushed the air out forcefully. you were too far in to scrap everything and start anew with a whole nother topic, so there was only one plausible and logical conclusion to draw:

get more coffee and force your brain cells to work.

standing up from your spot, senses tuned into the stillness of the library, you noticed something. or lack thereof. no typing noise anymore that had accompanied you for hours on end; the seat in front of the man’s laptop empty, his notebooks still open on the table, though no cup on the empty coaster. 

as you walked by with your empty mug and passed the little area that his pens and his dispersed papers claimed as his for the time being, you let your eyes flit over his screen. walls of paragraphs comparing two different works of literature on one half of his desktop, another document open with several similarities and differences listed on the other half. 

“japanese lit, huh?” you mumbled to yourself, tired eyes straying away from his possessions and your feet automatically carried you to the coffee machine at the entrance of the library that the students of various classes had invested in to aid them during their emotional breakdowns…uh, quest to finish their essays and assignments in time. 

zoning out, gripping your mug in one hand, you barely recognised the familiar movement of a person occupying the space in front of you out of the periphery of your eyes as you neared the coffee machine, so you only came back to reality when your nose was suddenly squished against a warm barrier that smelled like cappuccino and old books. 

“easy,” a deeper voice than yours called out close to your head, one hand having already come up to steady you when you lost your balance. his hand was warm against your back, the heat seeping through the layers of your woolen turtleneck, and for a second you both occupied the same space, the only sound the ticking of the clock.

“oh, sorry,” your response was automatic, sheepish and you stepped back, “i probably saw you but my brain didn’t work quick enough to actually see you.”

your gaze found the missing person whose laptop you snooped through (did it count as snooping if you only quickly looked at the screen enough to see what he was working on? you didn’t even touch anything, promise), and this time you could see his eyes, unhindered by any light reflection. 

pretty, you thought off-handedly, really pretty eyes.

“no stress,” one shoulder heaved up, and when his fingers stopped supporting you once he saw you didn’t need his help anymore, your back felt weirdly cool. it was nice having felt the heat of his arm around your body in the absence of any human contact in the face of studying. 

he filled water into the reservoir of the coffee machine, a cup of beans already measured from before you walked into him. you cleared your throat and nodded in thanks; he bowed his head quickly, waving off your thank you, his hand nudging up his glasses perched on his nose when they threatened to slide down. 

they were a bit big, but the earnest look of the dark blue eyes accompanying them made them all the more alluring; like they caged a ton of unsaid thoughts behind them, like there was so much those eyes wanted to tell but they had to get through the barrier of the glasses first. 

a transparent mask to hide behind.

“sooo, how’s the coffee?” you asked to fill the silence when your eyes met again, looking away just as quickly, because you hadn’t expected that his sharp pupils found you the same way your eyes found his. stupid question, to be honest, when the coffee machine whirred in answer, and there was a slight smile playing on his lips.

“i don’t know yet,” he held up his opened thermos cup to show you the lack of liquid that he could not judge on yet, and your cheeks flared up at the obvious demonstration, mumbling quietly to yourself, thinking that the coffee machine was too loud for him to understand: “sorry, that was…an incredibly stupid question.”

“you’re okay,” his quiet and steady voice came back to meet your ears, held back amusement lingering in the folds of his tenor. he heard you just fine, “though probably just like bitter water.”

leaning back against the wall, he joined you in waiting, and then there was comfortable silence between you both. he was close enough to feel the air warm up, close that if you glanced up again, you could see his lashes brush his cheek as he closed his eyes for a quick reprieve, the curls of his hair, messy and falling over his ears, his lips sitting together calmly, sometimes twisting when he chewed on the inside of his cheek.

you looked away again, to the coffee machine that went from grinding the coffee beans to finally pouring the hot water through it and dripping into the pot. you thought you recognised him from somewhere, this boy with the gentle, kind eyes and the charming glasses. you couldn’t help but steal another glance at him, trying to gauge where from, whether you had met him on campus before.

“i can feel you staring.”

whirling your head away from his still closed eyes and the fingers messing with his hair, you felt embarrassment brewing within your chest alongside the coffee in front of you. stupid, stupid.

“sorry.”

“don’t be. i don’t mind,” he said, still the same reserved amusement hiding behind his words, and then he did open his eyes to turn to you, and you returned the favour of looking over him again. your gazes met for a split second, dead-on, before they parted again to look at other features, “you’re in professor yoshida’s class, right?”

“right! that’s where  i know you from,” recognition finally bloomed, and you tested out the name that was continuously popping up in your mind during the short wait, wondering whether it was him, “akaashi keiji, right? you looked familiar.”

akaashi opened his mouth to respond, but halted for a split second; his cheeks and ears using this one moment to turn into a soft pink. when he caught himself and talked, you had an inkling that he meant to say something completely different: “yeah, exactly. what are you working on?”

“cultural studies. incredibly boring.”

“japanese lit,” he nodded in sympathy, then moved to pour coffee into both of your cups. you wanted to thank him, take the cup yourself and move, but he beat you to it. reflexes sharp and swift movement, he maneuvered around you easily to carry both of your coffee mugs back to the table you both shared. 

“thank you,” you said at last, seated away from him at your own laptop with the steaming cup warming your hands, the same old words on the screen staring back at you, and he responded in likes; his voice comfortable and easy, deep and as warm as the drink in your hand, “of course.”

both of you continued working, though amongst the clicking of keyboard keys and the silent breathing were the little glances both of you threw at the other now that there was some common ground found. when you got stuck with how to phrase a certain sentence, chin supported on your hand, your eyes wandered to him out of their own volition and instinctually, and you watched him focus on his work. 

the way his teeth would not stay still, constantly picking on his lips, his fingers rubbing his chin when he thought; the light warming up his face and making it seem like his hair was draped over him like a dark curtain. 

then you’d attend to your work again, and it was akaashi’s turn to let his eyes and mind wander over to you to watch you get stuck with another paragraph, biting your nail while the other hand was tapping on the keys lightly without pressing too hard, eyes intently focused on the words. 

you had an intense look in your eyes, and everytime, there were little butterflies erupting behind his ribcage when he felt you dedicate it to him.

those moments in between, when both of your eyes passed the others, belonged to nobody but the empty library. moments, in which you allowed yourselves to bask in the heat of fading instances, of arcane glances, interrupted by little sighs here and there or random occurrences, in which you both just couldn’t help but talk to each other:

“i’m jealous of your concentration,” you groaned at some point, allowing your forehead to thump onto your arm to bury your face away from the screen and its cruel, glaring light, “you look like you’re about to solve all the problems in this world.”

akaashi had stilled in his work, startled, eyes glancing up over the rim of his glasses up to you, and his teeth finally let go of his poor, swollen lower lip; mouth curling into a small embarrassed smile, “not quite. but i may be able to help you with yours, if that’s a start.”

you laughed at yourself for the strange thump your heart produced, hand waving him off, “sweet of you, but i just need some of that laser focus you’ve got.”

“sending you some.”

pretending to catch the energy he threw your way, you perked up in your seat and flashed him a grin, “you’re a lifesaver.”

“oh fu— shit.”

he was already beside you with napkins, big hands dabbing up the spilled lukewarm coffee as you worked to put away your electronics and books lest they’d get ruined by the deep brown liquid. he was close, leaning over you, hands working fast and precise, feeling his chest bump against your shoulders ever so slightly. your body warmed up at the contact, and you had to try not to lose your mind over that.

“ugh, i swear this is not my usual.”

“i’ll believe you when i see you prove the opposite to me,” he said quietly, a certain openness in his voice, a silent offer to spend many more moments together like this. 

you looked up at him, a smile stealing itself on your lips, “i suppose if you’re asking to be humiliated and be proven wrong, then i won’t say no.”

the skin underneath akaashi’s glasses had warmed up, and as he went back to his seat, he had stuttered back, “that’s— i didn’t— nobody said anything about humiliation! also, you’re the one who barely escaped electronic and academic death. gotta tone down the murderous intent a little.”

“never. every essay is my arch-nemesis, so they got what was coming for them.”

akaashi had shook his head, and laughed quietly to himself; the sound as honeyed as your favourite dessert. 

when he returned from his bathroom break later on, he brought you back a new cup of coffee, anyway, despite his fear of you murdering your hard effort of having added only three extra paragraphs to your text in all the time (you were a little busy staring at akaashi keiji’s pretty eyes; nobody was allowed to judge your slow pace).

you fell back with a big oohmpf and a yelp. 

dazed, you looked up at the ceiling, the low warm light of the library in the midst of the dark outside looking enticing enough to fall asleep right there. you stayed on the ground for a second, most of your fall cushioned by the chair, though your butt still throbbed with the impact. 

“hey,” a couple steps resonated before a messy head of curls peeked over you, one hand holding the glasses in place, while the other was reaching towards you to help you up, “you alright?”

“y-yeah,” you sat up, shaking your head a bit to clear it from the zoning out you were doing before gravity decided to take you down, “i suppose that’s why teachers always say not to rock your chair back and forth.”

suppressed laughter, mild concern, and a warm hand engulfing you, “what a delinquent. i bet the teachers loved you.”

“hey! what’s that supposed to mean? they loved me! incredibly so!”

“okay. i think i need help.”

“of course, what do you need?”

“do you understand what i’m trying to convey when i phrase it like that? ugh, i’m scared it’s too convoluted.”

“give me a second,” he finished up his sentence, then came over, “let me see.”

his chest pressed against the back of your (now upright) chair as he leaned over you to read your run-on sentence was distracting you. he wasn’t touching you per se, but the placement of his hands on the arms of the chair could cage you in, make you feel like he was embracing you from behind, so much taller than you. the warmth emitting from behind you made you want to fall asleep and let your head land in the crook of his neck.

he was breathing softly, the air caressing your hair, and when he reached out to point at your words, your eyes followed the red knuckles, his clean nails and the size of his hands. 

“you mean that the west created orientalism as a cultural and intellectual framework, right?” — a quick nod of yours — “alright, then i think if you cut this in two sentences, for one to showcase the interpretation of the east and then dive deeper into the colonisation in the next sentence — that would make it more understandable. say, am i making you nervous?”

blinking, “w—what? where did that come from?”

he leaned down slightly, face hovering next to yours, his voice slightly raw and close to your earshell, “don’t forget to breathe. also, you have a typo — row three, the fourteenth word.”

“evil,” your breathing was clipped from the insinuation that he may have had an effect on you, heart pumping blood through your body like crazy as if it was held at gunpoint, “i bet the teachers really disliked you.”

despite that, you brought him a cup of coffee when you returned from your bathroom break, too.

“you alright, akaashi?” you asked.

akaashi keiji looked up, his hand rubbing his neck, kneading the knots out of his tense shoulders. his eyes, until just short of when you called him, had been glazing over, a little bit of a vacant look entering the blue of his eyes, but when you called his name, he had snapped out of it, and his features relaxed slightly, away from his troublesome thoughts. his dark brows furrowed deeply above his eyes.

“yeah, just thinking about all the deadlines coming up. it’s…” he sighed, allowing his shoulders to sink, and he leaned back in the uncomfortable library chairs; another big sigh escaping him, “...a lot.”

“yeah,” you agreed and stood up, walking over to him. his surprised gaze followed you, and when you stood right next to him with his head tilted back, the wavy strands of hair following gravity, looking up at you with those eyes, you felt a tug in your chest that told you to kiss him. you didn’t. 

instead, you nodded to the window, “let’s take a walk and a breather,” and then, because you couldn’t help yourself, “a zeugma. get it, mr. japanese literature?”

his shoulders stayed relaxed, and he laughed again; a brilliant smile on his lips and you thought of how you wanted to kiss him even more. his eyes felt lighter, too, when he pushed back his chair and stood up, body entirely too close for what probably should have been appropriate for two students who had only properly met today for the first time. or was it already the next day?

but neither of you moved for a second, drinking in the presence of each other, before he grabbed his jacket off his backrest, “i think you can do better.”

“well, i think it was pretty good.”

akaashi shrugged, a teasing glint in his eyes, competing with the sparkle of the glasses when he turned and the light hit him just right, “and i think i have you beat there.”

you grumbled but caught up to him nonetheless.

it was cold outside. 

the kind that slithered through between the folds of your clothing to nestle deep in the crevices of your soul. the kind that had you shuddering and sending remnants of cannons into the air with every breath, the moisture immediately misting up. 

akaashi keiji was walking next to you, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, though his exhales were shaky too, chest trembling with compressed and suppressed shivers. you were already as close to him for warmth as possible without being weird or too straight-forward, though you wish you could just cling to his arm — it was that icy.

“i feel like i can’t even think,” you mumbled, already feeling your lips starting to numb, the tip of your nose burning. 

“me neither, but maybe that’s a good thing,” he breathed out, the warm air blowing past your temple, and his cheeks were so pink, it was cute, “sometimes it’s all too stressful, and i wish i could turn off my brain.”

“does that happen a lot?” 

you referred to the way his face looked like there was a headache incoming, how his fingers froze and his shoulders locked in; the way he seemed to absolutely crumble under the prospect of the things he needed to do and that awaited him. 

akaashi had an embarrassed smile on his face, shoulders drawn up for some warmth, the fuzziness of his jacket’s hood surrounding his reddening cheeks, “sometimes. there’s a lot of expectations riding on passing my classes. not just passing them, but passing them well.”

“by whom?” you leaned forward; curious eyes trying to catch his, “expectations set by the profs or by yourself?”

he stared at you, and his lips were slightly open; with every exhale, condensation snaked up the air like smoke, dissolving in the cold atmosphere all around you, though the air between you was slightly warm. his eyes looked kind and vulnerable for a second, “what a callout. guess i can’t even pretend that it’s not me, huh? you caught me.”

“not yet, i didn’t,” you dared say, and he stopped walking, even though it was colder to stay still than to move. you stopped, too. a snowflake floated between you, landing on his pink nose, melting at the warmth. 

the entire evening long — ever since you had bumped into him making coffee and you both went from studying alone to studying together, little jokes and jibes passing between you, curiosity and interest swapping between you with every glance, solitary and shared, you felt there was maybe a chance for something more. not necessarily all the way if it didn’t work out, but more to explore, more of him and you to meet.

“what does that mean, miss cultural studies?”

you blinked up at him, “i don’t know, mr. japanese literature. you’re the one who reads between the lines of books and analyses everything.”

“i’m not that far into my course,” he told you, seriously, and for a second you almost believed him, but then his eyes crinkled as he hid his smile behind the fluff of his jacket, and you pulled out one of your hands from the pockets of your coat to lightly pull his ear, not enough to cause pain but enough to chide him.

“you liar,” you said with no malice, voice soft and as your hand trailed down to hide your fingers in warmth again, his hand, fast as ever, pulled out of his own jacket, grabbed yours and stuffed both your hands in his pocket instead. 

incredibly warm, fingers locked between each other, soft skin kissing yours, “let’s go, it’s too cold.”

sometime around 2 am in the morning, you decided that you were going to fall asleep right then and there. sadly, coffee barely had an effect on your body anymore after having put your body through caffeine abuse for so long. 

during the hours of studying together, one of you moved closer to the other, so both of your books and notes were strewn together, sharing a space. his thermos cup stood next to a bunch of other cups both of you had drunk out of, because you kept forgetting to take the mug you were using with you and were forced to bring new ones. 

scrutinising a well-read book in the dim light, you ask, “is this mine?”

“unless you want to take home a copy of the setting sun with you and dissect the theme of youth in crisis, then i’m sorry to disappoint you.”

“ugh, i can’t even read anything anymore,” a beat of sly silence, “or you know, maybe i do want to. then i’ll have an excuse to see you again.”

“or,” akaashi butted in and gently offered you his phone, his smile straightforward yet a shy edge sweetening it up, “you can give me your number and we’ll meet up for another study session when you’re available. how’s that sound?”

in lieu of an answer, you saved your contact in his phone; your fingers caressing his under pretense of giving it back to him, and his movement was delayed, allowing the contact between you two to linger for a moment more.

“i’ll walk you back.”

“it’s not that far, so you don’t have to. it’s cold, too.”

akaashi sent you a look that very much told you he did not care how cold it was, there was no way he would let you walk alone at night. and when he did, your hands were buried in his pocket again. 

the world was quiet and still, as if you were caught up in another plane of existence for the past hours. a limbo of sleepy nature, perpetually falling snowflakes, the constant of the warmth akaashi offered, the bumping of arms as you walked in silence, subtly pulling him either to the left or the right when you needed to change the path.

“when is your assignment due?” you asked, lips barely moving from the cold, so you had to hiss out the words, barely understandable.

“four days ‘til friday. yours?”

“monday.”

another shaky exhale, the tremble evident in your shoulders, and you opted to walk a bit faster, even though you didn’t want to part with him yet. but cold was cold, and you would like to keep your toes still alive and kicking. so, it was no wonder that you arrived at your dormitory relatively fast, though even then, both of you stood in front of the entrance, not ready to say goodbye yet, not ready to leave the world of the dead and wake up the next day to greet the same usual bullshit. 

“meet me tomorrow,” he said with blue lips and red cheeks.

“okay,” you responded, heart fluttering when he didn’t let go of your hand. instead he took a step back and you were forced to follow, because you didn’t let go of his hand, either.

one step, another, a third one, then the tentative meeting of cold mouths. his breath was warm, his tongue warmer, and gradually your lips returned to their soft, mellow state. kissing him felt gentle, it felt safe and it felt like you could sink into him, like awaiting and catching you was a giant cloud that kept you floating up.

he kissed like he was a romantic. like he lived and breathed words meant for you, with the dedication and attention to detail only a writer or an artist could have, every stroke, every painted image on paper. he kissed like he had known you for a long time and intended to know you for even longer.

when you both parted, your lashes were brushing the rim of his glasses and your nose caressing his cheek, lips only inches away so it was only natural to kiss him again. 

“see you,” he let go of your hand at last.

later, an unknown number texted you, and you thought yourself corny, but you couldn’t help the smile that overtook your features at the cheesy line akaashi keiji thought he had you beat with:

from: +81 3 1762-3468 i left my other book and also my heart with you

and then:

from: +81 3 1762-3468 i really do need the book though, bring it tomorrow please :( goodnight x

[blondielockscherry]

Hi! I was thinking if I could ask for something with nerd!rafe in it? Maybe with a very affectionate, lowkey pda-loving reader (cheek kisses, actual kisses, hugs, hand-holding, cuddling, the whole works!) who couldn't get her hands off of him even in public (at school) and he's just permanently tomato-shaded because of it lol. Poor baby is not used to it but he's revelling in all of it deep inside. Thank you 🫶

i love this !! thank you for the ask too💗

nerd!rafe still getting used to readers affection ᡣ𐭩

it had been a few weeks since you and rafe had publicised your relationship. he very clearly didn’t have much experience with the whole affectionate stuff all he knew was that he liked it.

because rafe was wayyy smarter than you, you unfortunately was put into different classes but you met him after every single one. today was one of those days where rafe walked up to your math class to meet you after.

“hi baby” your greeted as your threw yours arms around his neck, pulling him in close. rafe could feel her tits press against his chest, making his mind go blank. he was so used to being the invisible nerd that he still couldn’t believe you where his girlfriend.

“what’s wrong baby?” you teased him pouting.

“nothing.. nothing at all” he stumbled over his words, his ears and face turning red. he was pretty sure anyone watching could see his heart through his shirt. “your just hugging me kinda intensely right now.” he swallowed hard, trying not to let his voice crack.

“aw.. well do you wanna come over tonight” you kissed his lips making his eyes widen. you loved the way you made him all flustered and shy. he was not used to the public display of affection but he didn’t hate either.

“yeah i’ll come over are we gonna study i’ve got a AP calculus test coming up.” you nodded before taking his hand in yours and walking. his heart skipped a beat another public display of affection that made his knees week. although it had been going on for a week rafe was only just getting used to it. he felt like he was always permanently red with blush.

your favourite thing to ever do is tease rafe about this. you acted oblivious to his red cheeks, beating heart, sweaty palms and stuttering.

“hey rafe why are you tence when i touch you do you not like it or something?” you ask.

“no! no no i love it it’s just.. just i’m not used to girls like you actually wanting to touch me. like i’m always expecting you to dump me” he looks down kicking small pebbles nervously.

you smile softly before pulling him in and kissing his face all over. “shut up i’m never gonna dump you, i love you”

his breath caught in his throat at the ‘L’ word, his eyes widening. “you love me?” he repeated his voice cracking slightly. “i love you too like alot alot” he smiled before pulling you into a kiss for the first time in public.

[thegoodduckfan]

This is a very interesting question because there are a lot of things to consider.

Assuming there would be only one story animated I think that for an Uncle Scrooge story it should be a story set either in the "present" or the Klondike, because those are the most important ages of Scrooge's life and because they are probably the simplest to grasp too. You could argue for a Scotland Scrooge story but I don't think that era is interesting enough.

It also should be able to stand alone and feel complete, not just for the sake of people who haven't read the comics but because I want the animated story to feel like a full package. For example, I don't want just 1 of the 12 chapters of Life and Times to be adapted, it's all or nothing.

I think that for an animated Klondike story the best pick would be The Prisoner of White Agony Creek. The story itself does a pretty good job of recapping what you need to know from Back to the Klondike and it doesn't rely too much on understanding the lore of other stories. The story also ends in a very satisfying way that could work for a single adaptation.

Now for a "present" story I'm actually not gonna go with my favorite US story Only a Poor Old Man because I don't think it's a good fit for animation. While I do believe it works on its own I think it would feel a little bit lacking if it was the only story animated. And I personally, I just don't think the grandure and sheer epicness of the dam breaking will be captured well in animation. And I think the last page with Donald calling Scrooge Only a Poor Old Man wouldn't work with Donald's voice in animation.

So for the "present" story I think I will take The Son of the Sun. It's a very good and relatively self contained story and admittedly it's way closer to a DuckTales episode than other stories so it would be an easier transition to new fans. It also works really well as an introduction to the characters and it plays on elements that again, will be easy to grasp for new fans. I think it would also be relatively easy to capture the story's epic moments in animation.

But another big reason I think it fits is that the story starts at the museum with Scrooge flexing all the treasures he's found, and I think seeing all the artifacts from Barks' stories be displayed in animation would be extremely cool and it works as something to feature in the first/only true adaption. (Also I really want to see an actual South African Flintheart Glomgold on screen).

But for a Donald Duck story I think the clear choice for me is Lost in the Andes. It's an extremely funny adventure that doesn't rely at all on previous lore so while it would feel a tad anti-climactic as the first straight adaptation of a Carl Barks comic it could be enjoyed by everyone. I think it would be very easy to capture the most epic moment of the story (the Ducks first laying eyes on Plain Awful) in animation, and maybe it could even be more epic in animation because that moment doesn't rely on highlighting a static moment of a pretty fast event (like a dam breaking or volcano errupting). And finally I think it's a good fit for animation because I don't think it's a story Donald's stupid voice will get in the way of.

if you could have one Duck story animated, which one would it be?