#kissing as they embrace each others wounds as if it's their the most precious things in the world

[yellowheartz]

Was it casual when the show robbed us of their interactions with each other because we all know that Aren’s trauma is hard to laugh about when mentioned too many times and that his similarities with Kusuo (such as their fear of hurting everyone they love) almost seem as if they were doomed yaoi all along?

[lovelybluebirdie]

A little novelty

Astarion x gn!Reader [AO3]

You let the brush run slowly through Astarion’s curls. The soft bristles massage his scalp in a pleasant rhythm.

You two sit alone by the fire at the camp you made for the night, since your other companions already left to their tents after an exhausting day of marching through dense fields and fighting hostile creatures.

Another gentle stroke and the movement of your brush comes to a stop. Instead, your fingers start to twist his curls. 

Astarion wouldn’t let anyone else touch his precious hair, but you’re an exception. Not only when it comes to touching him, he thinks, but with many things these days.

The whole sensation is still a little novel to him. 

Your touch is fond, without malicious intent or solely from demand, unlike most he has experienced in the past. 

You’re… simply touching him. Because you want to. Because you love him. And he wants it too.

The thought brings a smile to his lips.

You can't see it though, since he rests comfortably between your legs with his back turned to you, a book in his hands that he probably stopped reading about half an hour ago, while you’re sitting a little higher up on a log, an empty wine bottle at your feet. 

Astarion feels your breath against his neck, followed by a soft kiss on his cold skin.

“I think your hair’s done, my love,” you say and let your fingers run through it once more, tousling the strands you've just combed so neatly. 

Astarion shifts a little closer and rests his head on your lap so he can look up at your face.

You smile as your gaze meets his and bend down to kiss him again, on his forehead this time.

Astarion's ears grow warm from your touch. 

He puts the book aside and grasps your hands to pull you in a loving embrace, folding your arms on his chest.

You press another tender kiss to his hair and whisper words of affection to him. 

Astarion closes his eyes and sighs content, savouring your touch, your voice.

Evenings like these become more frequent in time: Your hands forming circles through his hair, him reading you a story from a book he found in an old cellar, you offering a massage to his tense shoulders after a tedious hike. 

Sometimes you'd share some banter over the ridiculous things that happened to you that day, mocking the enemies you defeated while carefully tending to your wounds and imagining what else might await you further along your journey.

Other times you’d sit in silence, listening to the sound of crackling wood with a steaming cup of camomile tea in your hands, before you’d eventually spend the night in each other's presence, Astarion relishing your warmth on his body.

Being close to someone remains a new sensation, yes, but it’s also rather nice, Astarion notices, and he enjoys exploring this little novelty with you.

[aikaterini-drag]

Wrapped in Affection

Summary: Imagine snuggling in bed with Sergeant Barnes, being all cute and soft with each other.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, intimacy, kisses.

Amidst the bustling heart of New York City, the radiant glow of the city lights filtered through the curtains, casting warmth in the cozy living room. James reclined lazily on the plush couch with you enfolded in his arms and under the soft glow of the television. You shared a quiet intimacy, snuggled incredibly close, with your fingers tracing abstract patterns on his metal hand.

He marveled at you in silence, his heart swelling with gratitude for the blessing of your presence in his life. He watched you with a soft smile, his eyes reflecting the love that surged within him. He still couldn’t believe that he was free of Hydra and how much you loved him— enough to stand by his side and help him cope with the darkness in his heart. Your kind heart and gentle laughter lit up the darkest corners of his soul, your touch a tender reassurance that all was going to be well. You had brought light and happiness, casting away the darkness and mending his open wounds.

"You know," he whispered, his voice a warm caress, "I don't think I could ever love cuddles as much as I love cuddling with you."

You chuckled, eyes twinkling with affection. "What's not to love about cuddles? They're like little pockets of heaven."

He pretended to ponder this, his brows furrowing in mock seriousness. "True, true. But regular cuddles don't come with the bonus of you."

“Am I that special?”

“You are the most important person in my life— and you already know that.”

You smiled and kissed him softly. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” He brushed his fingers over you face. “My precious angel. My happy ever after. My one and only.”

“Sergeant Barnes!” You playfully swatted his arm. "Flattery will get you everywhere!"

He grinned and leaned closer, his lips tracing a gentle path along your cheek. "Good thing I have the best girl to teach me everything."

Your laughter filled the room and he followed, a symphony of happiness. Nestling deeper into the embrace of the couch, you found solace in each other's arms, wrapped in the warmth of your love and the promise of countless cuddles to come.

Your fingers danced in a gentle ballet, trailing slow patterns on each other's skin. Each touch was a declaration of affection, a language known only to you. Your hands soon meandered, fingers tangling in hair, exploring the contours of cheeks, and gently caressing the curves of shoulders and arms.

Between hazy glances at each other, your lips met in soft wet kisses. Lips brushed, breaths mingled. He coaxed your mouth open and your tongues met ardently, dancing together. Each touch held the promise of more, a sweet temptation both of you couldn't resist. He pulled you closer, with you eagerly straddling him, the warmth of your body melding into him.

The kisses turned deep and passionate, like a wild rain, each one falling fast and leaving behind a sweet aftertaste, like the memory of a melody. They broke their kisses only to exchange heated glances, their eyes reflecting the depth of their longing.

In their precious cocoon of love, they were the stars in their own universe. The world outside might have been a whirlwind, but here, in the embrace of their love, time slowed, and they cherished each stolen moment.

[invinciblerodent]

I must confess, I have a little AA!AU brewing in my head. (blame youtube for constantly recommending videos of his lines to me for some reason lol)

It's very rudimentary right now, but I imagine that in this strand of reality, the paths diverge at that faithful insight check in the crypt where Iona originally rolled double nat1s, so there was nothing she could say or do, he ascended, and she, consumed by guilt as soon as her mind cleared (with the Gur's blood on her hands), left him that night.

This AU would fast forward a few decades, maybe a century from the game's events, and Iona would now be a monster hunter of some renown that's still, to this day, constantly pursued by-, and is in turn pursuing her jilted lover.

She had tried to flee from him, but it didn't work- for years, he just kept finding her.

She had tried to fight back, slip the yoke, change her name, cross the continent, change her appearance, but wherever she went, whoever she became, eventually all her attempts to create and keep distance had failed. Any attempt at a normal life, at love, at leaving the past behind, had failed: in a year, in a few months, sometimes in merely a few days, there was simply no escaping him. Flowers always wound up delivered to her door one night, while lovers mysteriously wound up dead, and she barely managed to escape capture herself by the skin of her teeth.

So eventually, she decided to hunt him in return.

By the time the story would start, she would have taken back her name once more, joined/formed an Order much like the Gur, and she now schemes against him, but the Ascendant (as he is best known by that time) just keeps slipping their grasp.

He taunts her, plays with her, but won't hurt her -after all, why would he destroy what he seeks to possess? Why would he even think to break his most precious toy? No, what he wants is her submission given willingly, it's her love back.

So he almost courts her, and she won't say this to anyone, but a part of her enjoys that.

It's a cat and mouse game once more, this mutual chase, this constant outwitting of each other, this... it feels almost like flirting once more. Embracing the chase, it feels at once like taunting the Ascendant, and merely playing, exchanging sweet little barbs with her Astarion.

And she knows she shouldn't enjoy it, she knows that if they ever come to clash she can't hesitate before plunging the stake into his chest, but gods.... isn't it just so much fun?

Anyway, I wrote like 800 words of a fic before I would have finally fallen out of the fugue-state, and realized that the concept is basically this Ady-poem (as translated by György Eszter):

"Hawk-love on the fallen leaves"

Setting out now. For Autumn are we heading, with wild shrieks of joy and pain are chasing one another: our wings are hurt and we’re a hawk-couple.   Fierce lovers, we’re fleeting the Summer. New hawk-wings are in fight and flutter and we eagerly kiss each other to death.   Up and down. Soaring from the Summer and then falling back, just a shivered flutter and the lovers’ combat ceases, with our wings in pieces.   Our very last and violent love-scene as it’s been. We tear each other’s flesh, defeated, and into the jade-green, crimson-coloured cushion of the Fall, there do we collapse, consummated.

(1906)

.......... So that's a whole thing now.

Like if I ever were to write A!A fic, this would be the kind of shit it'd be.

(there's another translation I found, but this one is more desperate, more reflective of the original, even though both are a little... off, from the original feel.)

[weavewithin]

Continued. Foreseen verse Yasuo ( @fcrgiven ) and Taliyah.

𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 as she set to work on skin and ridges that had become as familiar as her own. In each movement there was tenderness, like resuming to stitch a precious and grand tapestry, like her mother had once lifted and tied her unruly hair. When she was younger, she would frown while mending her Master's wounds, out of worry for his well being, out of anger for his tendency to drift into danger. Now, she had witnessed this cycle enough times to accept it, and her expression was gentle and steady, like her handiwork.

This ritual had remained the same over the years, just like her Master's sword had remained by his side. In their lifetimes, the world had not changed enough for him to put it down, or for Taliyah to put down her needle. They had traveled the world many times, and many times thought it would be their last. They had been known as many things, but they were still Master and student. The world was still unbalanced, and they tried not to trip in its tremors. Great Weaver, she tended to ask these days, what is fate, but a row of stitches, each so alike the previous?

There was much good in that pattern too, beside the dark. In its weave threaded many happy memories, wisdom and love colored blue like the well-worn scarf she used to know many years ago, red that followed it and learnt to fly across the canvas. Her and Yasuo had always complemented each other, in the way the stone and wind learn from one another.

When the mending was done and Yasuo rose to regard her, smiling with warmth that had not reached so deep many years ago, Taliyah knew that her Master had learnt and grown beside her. Their mutual teacher was apparent, as Yasuo embraced her and kissed her forehead, as she returned the embrace. It was apparent as he voiced what had made them much more than student and Master. He spoke that simple thing which had taught them the most and made them friends, family.

Taliyah could've told him that her love for him was as deep as the earth and as vast as the sky. That it grew in her each day and wove itself into the very tapestry of her life. Instead, she raised her one good hand to his cheek and replied simply, ❛ You know I love you very much. ❜ Then, in the next moment, she was a fledgling again, having her hair ruffled. Normalcy was returning, and she knew to value it these days.

❛ Lunch sounds good. You need to regain your strength. Those scrapes might still bring a fever later on, but I hope not. ❜

There was that urge again, to frown and condemn the cause of those wounds that now threatened her dear friend. But she knew she didn't have to, for her Master to learn his lesson. A playful smile was creeping onto her features instead, as she found some humor to latch onto.

❛ I think we better listen to what you want. The body knows what it needs to recover. ❜

[dethvoid]

@gildedweapon

Lethiferous girl, cascading golds and greens; a nigh fragile bubble for the gleaming, molten silver that bursts with a spark. A herald. A pale rider. She breathes gun smoke, speaks flowers. Thorns 'twould rupture and choke, do not; rust 'twould corrode, does not. Heart full of cogs, down to the gun grease flowing therein, it all comes to a still for moment. For a chance. To be reflected in those garnets embedded in obsidian.

For he sees her as she sees him. The veracity 'twixt them. Organic and non. Tangible and not. Adored. Loved.

Always.

Gelastic, velvet lips that press such tender chasteness, 'twould wound even the greatest warrior. Akin to a phoenix, she dies and is reborn from each touch, each glance, each syllable that tumbles forth from his throat. Long has she sensed him, that chilled-warmth. (Heretofore) Long where the days of sitting in his shades, shadows; anything and all, just for a chance, a moment. Such as this.

Silvery voice hitches, a small shiver down her spine from his mark, ❝ D-Dark! ❞ Jovial whispered exclamation, elation rises as does she, w-well of sorts. To half turn, throw her lithe body 'gainst his in hug to squeeze perhaps the life out of him. Head cants to let the last rays of the sun be blocked by her locks. Safety. Here in her arms, he always would be. Would he not?

Kismet.

Pallid hand raises to cup his cheek, run her slender thumb along the angular jawline that she too presses a saccharine kiss to; bullseye. ❝ I-I have not been here, ehm, too long. ❞ Since noon. Filled with dreading greens and swirling greys, stomach doing strange flips like what Dante did with the batter on the stove in the mornings.

She bites her lower lip, eyes full of his image alone, ❝ Hello, the one I cherish the most. ❞ Another whisper, afraid of the world to shatter this moment. Afraid this was another idyllic dreaming of the day. ❝ D-Did you miss me? I missed you. Ached for you. I-I am sorry for making you wait...❞

His name is but a song on her lips; euphonious voice which rises above the common noise from below. The bustling streets of the city has left them secluded in plain sight. Ivory takes his name in her mouth with her hand on his heart, as if a precious thing, to be kept secret in this meeting of lovers. A power that leaves him sundered.

The name she speaks has belonged to him for mere years, mere raindrops collecting in the well of his lifetime. Oh, but when she speaks it, she cherishes every letter on her tongue. A sweet sound, in every pronunciation. When Ivory says his name, does it truly feel as his.

Yet the shadow cannot help but let a laugh fall from his lips as she leaps to throw her arms around him. An eager embrace, messy and contagious, as limbs cross and they behold one another. Parting his legs just so to give her room in between, he holds her just as close as she does, spite the rays undoing the flesh of his limb. 

To see Ivory in the final parting of the sun, a rare image, how she looks in all manners of the daytime remains unbeknownst to him. Violet light outlines her soft features. He can’t help but mimic, pressing the palm of his hand to her cheek. To remember a sight such as her; divine in flesh and steel, glinting like gunmetal. 

A kiss like a bullet, for her lips are gone too soon.  Dark longs for more by the time she pulls away. He wants her to drown him in them. 

❝ Hello, ❞  A repetition of her phrase,  ❝ one I have longed for the most, the one whom I counted the hours for. The one who owes me no apologies, because the fault is all mine.  ❞ as the demon speaks he begins to lean forward into her. Close enough to have their lips ghost each other’s.

               ❝ How beautiful you look in this light. ❞

[excellentexecution]

||

@niccolahiromithomas​ asked: ☁️ + Brianna

Send ☁️ + a name, and my muse will share their favorite memory of that person.

She wasn’t a little girl anymore. Perceptive despite the childlike sparkle to her adorable blues still, eyes of a friendly indigo shade, Brianna had grown into a beautiful woman. 18 years old and every day leaving her father proud - she was smart and kind and brave - the Hitman obviously her biggest supporter and passionate fan. Wound tightly around her finger like the diamond ring she wore on special occasions, holidays and parties that called for more elegant accessories, a gift that she just so deserved to be spoiled with, Brianna and Bret were like two peas in a pod. Best friends that actually preferred the company of each other. Actively found time to be together, even if their schedules provided for anything but, memories made as easy as breathing, naturally. A career hadn’t been such a worrisome endeavor to commit to for Bret while his baby girl grew. Nothing like what her dear brother Logan had to endure; her father was home more often by then. Returned to her with broken spirit and broken heart, but always so full of love for her and her brother, the hurt that Goldberg caused melted away once a father could embrace his precious daughter. Run his tired fingers through her curls and press kisses to her face - Brianna was a comfort most treasured - a blessing who looked so much like Niccola. Perfect in every way, the Hitman was glad to be home with her, back where he belonged and safe in her warmth. 

Bret said, fixing the hat on top of his head, adjusting the cap just how he liked it, backward in position with his moniker above his forehead, “I don’t think I could pick just one favorite memory, y’know. My daughter and I, we’ve had so many fun times together, have experienced so many beautiful things. Not many fathers get to have that. Especially if they come from the professional wrestling business like I do. It’s unfortunate, but there’s been many good friends of mine who have had awful relationships with their own children. It’s a side of this world that nobody wants to talk about, a sin that nobody wants to admit, but many young women have lost their fathers to some degree because of such a career. I have seen what it’s done to those girls. I could never do that to my daughter. I could never hurt my Brianna like that. It’s why I tried so hard to make sure she knew that she was loved, that I was home for her as often as I could be. It’s why, even now, I strive to be the best dad she could ever ask for.”

“I know she’s a woman now, and that maybe this might embarrass her a little bit, but a favorite memory of mine with Brianna would have to be when we went to her middle school’s father-daughter dance. She was in grade 6. She had just turned 12. At the time, I didn’t think that she’d want to go. She had her friend group from school who liked to hang out. I figured that on the night of the dance, they would have plans to spend the evening together. It didn’t bother me, truthfully. Y’know, I was only a few years into my stroke recovery. I was still going through therapy and all that came from my treatment program. At the time, I assumed that, part of the reason why she didn’t want to go, besides her friends, was because of me. It was silly to think that way, I know, especially in regard to my daughter, who’s just the sweetest person you’ll ever meet, even if she is a bit of a spitfire. But that’s how I felt.”

“I didn’t want to be a cause of humiliation for Bria.” He confessed. “Having me there, at her school dance, it would’ve been a lot. I didn’t want to put my daughter through that, so even when I knew that her school was hosting the dance, I didn’t ask her about it. I kept quiet. If she wanted to go, if she wanted me to go with her, she would’ve said something. I didn’t want to pressure her. My feelings on the matter were insignificant. This was her choice to make. But, y’know, she really did take me by surprise when she finally did talk to me about it. She sounded so much like her mother when she said it, too. She came up to me after Niccola had picked her up from school, all smiley and cute. ‘So when are we gonna go get my dress for the dance, Papa? You are gonna take me, aren’t you?’ How could I say no to that?”

“So we got my baby girl the dress she wanted. It was ruffled with a bit of glitter - gold in color. It matched my tie. I wore a black suit. I shined my shoes. I wanted to look my very best for her. It’d been too long since we last had a father-daughter date of any kind. We used to go out all the time together. Nickie helped me with my hair, she let Bria wear a little makeup, and then we were off to the dance. Like any proper gentleman would, I bought her a flower corsage too. I made sure that it went with her dress. Just how she would’ve liked it. We had a great time that night. We danced. We ate. I got to be with my little girl. It was very special for me. Holding Brianna in my arms while we danced to the slow songs together, it was like the first time all over again, when she was born. I tried my hardest to hide my tears. Y’know, seeing her so grown up, it breaks my heart. She’s so perfect. She’s my princess. I love Bria beyond words, with every fiber of my being and soul. Being there at that dance with her, it meant the world to me. I’ll never forget that moment for as long as I live.”

___

[bejaeyoung]

it's new, this sense of relief and peace between them. they've always been prone to banter, emotional and intense, leaving the both of them slightly broken afterwards—but they always come back, to one another. no matter what. jay would've been fine with that sort of pattern, despite knowing it isn't anything healthy. with siwoo, he doesn't need something stable and balanced, as long as the two of them are going down this rollercoaster together, it'll all be worth it in the end.

siwoo has never made it easy, running around in circles only to reveal a plethora of hidden feelings stemming back from their time during highschool. of things said carelessly, words stumbling out of siwoo's mouth that left several scars on jay's heart and on his body, wounds that are still healing even now. it's not entirely siwoo's fault, jay thinks, he had never shown any of these injuries for siwoo to see—he didn't want the game to end, after all. if he broke down first, that marks the end of the game, and siwoo might leave him.

but that's how jay knows it's love, in every sense of the word. because he can feel his heart breaking, shattering to pieces. intoxicating and exhilarating, too much for jay to handle at times—frustrating to the point of tearing his own skin open. highs and lows, happines and sadness, kissing and fighting. siwoo fucks him up; jay knows, now, that jay fucks siwoo up just as much. they're the only ones who can fuck each other up; that's their love.

still, this is nice too. a moment of tranquility, where neither of them are heating or riling each other up. with siwoo's fingers running through jay's hair, treating jay like he's the most precious item in the entire world. jay prides himself on never cracking, definitely not in front of siwoo. he puts a lot of significance into it—probably too much—being the only one who can accept and embrace siwoo at his worst. but, this is nice too, siwoo being open and honest in his affections. no more running, no more games.

"you're smiling so much," jay points out, tracing a line across siwoo's bottom lip with his index finger. "is that all you do when i'm asleep?" he questions, a flicker of mischief in his eyes and the smile he returns to the other. "i'm surprised, i thought you would do much more than that," he teases, his fingers settling on siwoo's cheeks, drumming gently against it. "i did tell you that you could," he continues, playful.

jay's not surprised though, siwoo has a habit of doing things without jay's knowledge. jay feels oblivious sometimes, to how much space he occupies in siwoo's brain. "i didn't know you love my hair that much either," jay laughs. "i think i can do pigtails now! do you think that would be cute on me?" he's half-joking, but he does wonder how the hairstyle would look on him.

"i guess you don't have to do this just when i'm asleep anymore," he clarifies, not pulling away from siwoo's hand even in this moment. "i'm awake now, aren't i?"

days like these ��� with jay lying on his bed, in his arms, his heart full of warmth – he wonders if he's allowed the happiness of days like these. there's a swelling in his chest, that as of late, he's gotten familiar with. siwoo's never been good with words, has always defaulted to vulgar language and broken up sentences when his mind is a mess. but for now he feels at peace, jay's warmth a reminder that this is real.

siwoo's never been good with people either, and his life had always been a contrast of people either enjoying his company, or detesting his existence. but people were like that; in his life, people had always come and gone, and siwoo had the terrible habit of testing them. of seeing how far they'd go for him, if he felt them of any worth. a terrible, terrible habit.

and siwoo pushes, and pushes with jay, but jay had never left, he'd push back, he'd pull and siwoo had soon enough found himself in a predicament. the problem wasn't that jay was in love with him, it was that he was in love with jay too – and could never wrap his mind around a relationship that siwoo wouldn't fuck up. a marathon runner, that was what siwoo had called himself.

as he runs his fingers through jay's hair though, a smile forms on his lips – but there's an annoyance that makes itself known in his mind. an anger that's directed at himself for never quite acknowledging these feelings sooner. for fucking himself over and over again, in an attempt to run. time, siwoo thinks, time had never been kind to him.

his hand stills for a second though, when he realizes what he's done. he braces himself for jay's rejection, for his hand to be swatted away. but it never does, instead jay leans into his touch. fuck, siwoo thinks, eyes falling onto the boy, i really fucking love him.

he smiles, his expression softening as he moves closer to jay as well. he doesn't like the distance between them, despite there being close to none. he wants to feel jay, more of jay, all of jay. he wants to merge their bodies together, so closely that they can't run anymore. wherever he's off to, he wants to bring jay with him, close to his heart.

jay's hair is soft, and siwoo's always loved that about him. the smile on his face grows as he speaks, "i used to think i could only do this while you were asleep," he says, unwilling to part from jay. after all, it had been something that siwoo had been doing, gently planting kisses to the top of jay's head and running his hands through his hair whilst his friend was asleep; the few times siwoo didn't think he'd have to face rejection from jay.

"i hope they don't," he hums under his breath, allowing himself to get lost in this moment for a little longer. "i've always loved your hair," he says, smiling fondly.

[thenanbakacorner]

Could you do a Seitarou Tanabata x reader relationship headcanons?

Of course! Gotta love this precious bean!!  (ᗒᗨᗕ)

* * *

⭐️ Dating Seitarou Headcanons ⭐️

The most affectionate and sweet boy you could ever meet, you best be prepared for a life of constant doting with this cutie

At home, he’s a total malewife. Though you share the responsibilities and chores of the house, he insists on doing most of the work

Most mornings you’ll wake up to the smell of blueberry pancakes, waffles and eggs wafting through the house

Breakfast in bed? Yes.

A huge cuddler-- he can’t go a single day without snuggling you at least once or- according to him- he’d die

He prefers to save cuddles for when he gets home from work, so he gets to nuzzle and love on you after a stressful day

Plus, it feels better venting his frustrations of being picked on by a certain cell of inmates while he’s in your arms

He absolutely hates seeing you upset, and might start crying with you if he doesn’t make you feel better quick enough

He can get a bit shy with being too affectionate around others, but absolutely loves to hold your hand as you walk together or lean to put his head against yours

If you ever tell Seitarou about something that you’re interested in, you best bet he’ll remember that for future reference and use it to his advantage

For example, you want to go to a distant country? Once he saves up the money for it, it’s vacation time!

Seitarou enjoys sewing, and will gladly make things for you if you ask, like plushies, blankets or clothing

Most dates with Seitarou range from simple outings like going to a restaurant or cafe to going to huge amusement parks if the two of you have the money for it

He has a huge soft spot for being pet on the head, and will fall asleep on your lap if you let him while running your hand through his hair

His favorite way of showing you affection is cupping your cheeks with both hands and pressing the gentlest kisses to your nose tip or lips

He’s especially very kissy and touchy when the two of you are laying down together getting ready to sleep

He’ll have his arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he whispers sweet nothings and loving praises

You’ll often sleep like this, facing one another and wrapped up in each other’s embrace

All in all he has a hard time keeping his hands off of you, but he loves you so much-- can you really blame him?

If you ever get hurt, like cutting your finger while cutting up food, expect him to immediately jump on being your personal nurse

Wraps up your wound and presses a kiss to the bandage before looking up at you and gently asking if you’re feeling better

If you work at Nanba with him, he’ll often worry about you, especially if you’re assigned to a building with more troublesome, dangerous inmates, and you need to reassure him that you’re fine once you meet up again

Very attentive to all your needs and wants, and does his utmost best to keep you happy and cared for

[touyaz]

no laughing matter.

pairing bokuto koutarou x gn reader

word count 3,297

notes enjoy !! :) @http-404-error-unknown​

WARNINGS dark/ yandere bokuto, mentions of (consensual) sex throughout, implied dubcon/noncon at the end, but there’s nothing explicit.

MINORS, AGELESS & BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. 18+ ONLY.

+

You look so gorgeous today, even if you look like you could use another hour or two of sleep. Your hair's a little messy, but Bokuto just wants to weave his fingers through and ruffle the strands a little more. Your eyes look a tad swollen — as if you've been crying and haven't slept properly — and he wants to kiss away your tears; he wants to hold you close and lull you to sleep whilst whispering sweet nothings in your ear, keeping you nice and warm in his embrace, where nothing can ever harm you.

The afternoon sun casts a golden glow over you, highlighting the way you shuffle and twiddle around with your fingers, looking ever so dainty and fragile in front of him — like you're nervous, like you're about to do something you shouldn't — and Bokuto can't keep his eyes off of you. He can't tear his gaze away from the way your lips curl and sway as you speak to him, as you call his name in that angelic lilt of yours, as you tell him you love him—

“Bokuto, are you even listening?”

He doesn't want to listen to you. On any other day, your words are gospel to him; he'd listen to you for hours on end as if you were telling him the secrets of the universe, as if all the answers to life's most important questions were hidden behind your chapped lips, and he's the only person blessed enough to hear a snippet of your sweet voice.

Today, however, he's perfectly content with just staring at you, losing himself in the way you shine, the way you squirm.

He doesn't want to listen to you. Not when you keep calling him Bokuto. Not when you're trying to break up with him.

"I'm sorry, baby, you just look so pretty right now," he chuckles, light and airy to dispel your discomfort, but you grit your teeth in annoyance.

You have no right being annoyed when you're out here breaking his heart. Do the other people in this café know what you're doing here? Can they see you tear his heart to shreds with your vicious tongue and sharpened claws? Are they watching as his face falls and tears burn his eyes, but you don’t even pause between spewing venom at him?

Is this what heartbreak is? That dizziness in his head. The ringing in his ears that just about masks your voice. Something tightens in his chest — each callous syllable you spit is another tug on the rope binding his lungs, and it squeezes him until he’s at the point of rupturing. His heart feels heavy, like it’s being pulled down to the soles of his feet, anchored to the dirt you step on; his body feels too weak, but he’s acutely aware of the numbness that falls over him. He feels like he’s floating, he thinks he’s never been more grounded. It doesn’t make sense. His body keeps flipping between hot and cold, focusing on your words then listening to the squeak of leather beneath you, watching you rub a hand across your face then staring out at a dog that passes by. It’s too much and yet not enough. He wants you to stop; he wants you to stay. None of this makes any sense.

He almost wants to laugh, to break down into tears and scream and cry and cause a massive spectacle, so everyone can see the way you wound him with your lethal words. Is that why you invited him out here? Not for a cutesy little lunch date, but so you could have an audience join in as you jeer and snicker at his demise, as you crush his heart in the tender, bruising palm of your hand like it — like he — never meant a thing to you?

He knows you're not like that — not his sweet, precious partner, his dearest, his beloved — no, no, you would never do that, you would never break his heart like this. You love him, like an artist loves a blank canvas, and like a singer needs their voice, you need him just as much as he needs you; he is nothing without you, and you're nothing without him, you can't be anything without him. He won't let you become something without him, because then you won't be you.

"Don't— Stop saying things like that, Bokuto."

Bokuto. Bokuto. Bokuto. God, he loves your pretty voice, but if he doesn't hear a Kou or baby soon, he's going to break the table separating you from him and force it out of you.

"I'm serious" — so is he — "we're done."

He's done with this conversation.

You don't say anything else. You just pick up your bag, turn heel and leave him there. You're so cruel to him — looking away so you can't see the tears welling up in his eyes, leaving him trembling in some stupid café, all alone with your untouched drink.

+

He spots you in the university hallways the next day. He comes in bright and early to see you, to hug you and laugh with you over the silly prank you pulled on him yesterday, but when he waves and calls you over to him, you don't even look his way before you slip into your lecture hall.

He pouts, thinking you didn't hear him (even though his voice is deafening, more akin to a lion's roar than a grown man yelling) and Konoha — who'd been standing beside him, talking endlessly about his latest fling — snickers at the display.

"Trouble in paradise?"

Bokuto huffs, crossing his arms as he eyes the door to your lecture, debating whether or not he should go in after you. "Nah, they’re just playing a prank on me, but I miss them so much!"

Konoha rolls his eyes, muttering a you're so fucking whipped before he throws an arm around Bokuto's shoulders. "Come on, you can cry about them later, let's get to class."

Bokuto's always hated not having the same modules as you because he loves admiring you as much as possible, for as long as possible. The arrangement does, however, mean that when he sees you at lunch, he gets to hear about everything you got up to without him, and he always loves listening to how your day went. You must not have been feeling very hungry today, though, since you never came to your usual lunch spot. Bokuto misses swiping food from your bento box, and his own meal tastes bland when you're not there to feed it to him, but he thinks you must be very dedicated to the dumb little joke you're playing.

He’s grown tired of it already. If you don't end it soon yourself then he will.

The rest of his day goes by uneventfully, the hours passing dreadfully with you not by his side. Even volleyball practice is draining and he finds it hard to come out of his slump when he doesn't see you in the stands. Even when you both get into a little argument, you still show up, studying and doing coursework as you wait for him to finish practice. Then, he twines your hand with his, shoulders your bag, and you both talk out your woes on the way to your house. The journey is always filled with apologies and promises to be better; he cherishes the sweet sound of you saying yes, I still love you, Kou — what he wouldn't give to hear you say that right now — but more than that, he loves the way you let him mold your body to his once you're in your bedroom, all pretty and pliant beneath him as he shows you just how sorry he truly is.

He brushes off Akaashi when he asks him if he's feeling okay, because of course he's not. He loves you to the moon and back, but you're being annoying, taking this prank way too far, and his heart's aching in his chest. He's the last one in the locker room, and just before he gives up all hope of you showing up, he decides to send you a quick picture. He pulls off his volleyball shirt — because he knows how much you like the sight of his firm, tanned body (and he loves the way you love it) — and he grins as brightly as he can before he snaps a quick picture of himself, and sends it to you.

And then he waits. Fifteen minutes pass and he doesn't hear a word back from you, even though he's said, time and time again, he wants you to reply back in five minutes or less. The picture (and all the other messages he'd sent to you throughout the day) stays undelivered.

The joke has gone on for long enough.

+

He knows the way to your house — he could walk there blindfolded and bleeding out without stumbling once — and he follows the path down to where you are hidden away in your room easily. He knows your parents are out, that they never come home early on weekdays, and that your siblings are out at work or school or whatever. He knows because on days like these, he'd be in your room with you, pushing away your reading material and dragging you onto his lap so he can make out with you. He'd be up there, stealing food from you and kissing your lips right after. He'd be with you, holding you close, telling you how much he loves you, just you, only ever you.

Today shouldn't be any different to how the two of you spent last week all cosied up beneath your blanket, tongues tangled with his hands down your pants, and there's a certain pep in his step as he thinks about that, rushing to the entrance and using the key you gave him to unlock the door. He can't wait to have you sprawled out all for him, wet and wanting, so he hurries up the stairs when he hears you leave your room.

You're at the top of the staircase when he stands on the first step.

"What the fuck?" 

His fists clench at your rude greeting, but at least you've finally given him some attention.

"Baby, I missed you!" he says, bearing a grin as he eyes the way your face drops, the way your hands tighten into fists. "I didn't see you at practice, so I wanted to check up on you! You okay?"

"You need to leave, Bokuto. How'd you even get in?"

"What, you don't want me here?" he asks, a playful pout on his face as he climbs up a few steps. You stumble back, away from him, and his eyes narrow in a dark glare. "You avoided me all day, you know. I don't like what you're doing."

"No, I don't want you here," you state and now your voice is really starting to grate on his ears. "Get out, Bokuto."

"I'm not going anywhere," he retaliates, walking up some more steps, and when he notices you distancing yourself, he jumps over the last few steps. He manages to catch you just before you lock yourself into the bathroom, slamming the door open with such power it leaves a crater behind in the wall. You're tripping over your feet as you move away from him, but there's nowhere for you to go.

You're leaning against the sink, eyes darting around the room for something to defend yourself with, but Bokuto's always been faster than you, and there's nothing for you to grab. Razors and scissors are tucked safely in your cupboard, you left your hairbrush in your bedroom earlier — you wish you were a little more careless, wish there was something other than shower curtains and a toilet at your disposal.

"Where are you running off to, baby?" he says, grin darkening into a spiteful smirk as he knows he's got you trapped in his clutches, just how he likes. His body — built and solid and all dense muscle — fills up the doorway and he's like a beast looming over your helpless form.

"Bokuto, please—"

"And why are you still calling me that?" he asks, taking slow steps towards you, prolonging your misery and terror.

"It's your name—"

"Not to you! You always call me Kou, I miss hearing you say that."

He sounds so whiny and childish, yet the nasty glint in his eyes speaks volumes; he may act like a hyperactive puppy most days, but you know there's a ruthless, bloodthirsty wolf in him that's dying to be unchained.

"Kou, you're— you're scaring me."

"Oh, baby." For a second he seems to soften, reminding you of the old Bokuto that would pepper gentle kisses all over your face, the one that would make butterflies flutter in your tummy with just his smile. He opens his arms to you — the place once a source of comfort, but now his arms swell with muscles that are too suffocating, his hold too much like a cage, like a bear trap. You stay still, clutching at the rim of the sink like it's your lifeline. "Come here, you know I'd never hurt you."

You shake your head. You're cowering away from him, but you can't fall into his arms so easily. You're done with him, and he needs to understand that. Needs to get that through his thick head: you're not together anymore. You don't want him.

"Kou, you can't be here, you need to go."

His arms drop to his side, face falling with dejection when you don't move to him like he wants.

If you won't come to him, then he'll go to you.

"I'm tired of your stupid prank." Your brows furrow in confusion and he answers you before you even open your mouth. "Don't tell me you've forgotten what you did yesterday."

Your eyes widen in realisation. "That— Kou, that wasn't a joke. We're not— I broke up with you, okay? It's not your fault, I just— I really need to focus on uni, and you have volleyball, and we can’t— I just don't think I can handle a relationship right now. I'm sorry."

You're lying through your teeth. He knows because you've never brought any of this up before; he's told you time and time again, he's going to make it big, make a name for himself in the volleyball scene, so you won't have to worry your pretty little head about university or a job, he'll take on the big work, so all you have to deal with is handling your relationship. He'll go out and earn the money, keep a roof over your head, deal with the real world — all you've got to do is make sure you're dolled up nicely for when he comes home. You cook the food he buys, and you spread your legs for him at the end of each day so he can love you right. He'll treat you so well, you won't have to worry about a single thing besides what he'll have for dinner, and what lingerie he'll be tearing off of you for dessert.

He laughs, shoulders hunching over as he lets out deep, unamused chuckles, and the sink digs into your back as you crane away from him.

"We're not breaking up, don't be silly." His word is final. Seriously, he's tired of this stupid prank you're playing on him. He just wants to hold you close and forget this day ever happened. "Now let's go to bed, I'm tired."

"I mean it—"

"I mean it," he interrupts, and his voice is darker than it was just moments ago. "I don't wanna hurt you, baby, but if you say one more thing about us breaking up, I'm gonna get real mad, got that?"

You gulp, nodding stiffly and digging your nails into your palms as you try to hold back the tears springing up. You know about the power that dwells inside him, the way gentle kisses can turn to vicious bites, the way he can carry you around like a sack of junk, the way he can twist and turn your body to his liking as if you're clay, all for him to sculpt and perfect.

"Good," he sighs, a smile forming on his face. "Now, let's go."

His hand laces with yours, forcing you by his side as he takes you to your bedroom. He doesn't let up as he shoves your clothes and bag off of your bed, turning to pick you up like it's nothing before he falls back on the bed, hugging you close to him. He lifts your leg over his, a large hand wrapping around your thigh to squeeze the fat and keep you in place. His grip is so tight, you're sure it'll leave a bruise behind, but you're too scared of him to voice your pain.

"See, this is nice, isn't it?" he asks, burying his nose into your hair after he closes his eyes, finally able to revel in the feeling of your embrace. "Missed you all day. I don't ever want you doing something like that again, okay? It really hurt. Konoha kept making dumb jokes about you moving on when he saw you talking to some asshole after school, but you wouldn't do that to me, would you, baby?"

He waits for you to reply, and you swallow down your unease, trying to keep a level voice. "No, Kou, of course not. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, baby, I forgive you." he says, sweetly kissing the top of your head, before his lips curl slyly. "But… I do know how you can make it up to me."

You gulp, not wanting to know what he has in mind. You just want to go to sleep, pretend this is all a bad dream, a horrid nightmare but nothing more than a figment of your imagination. The beefy arms wound tightly around your body anchor you to reality.

"How?"

In lieu of a reply he shuffles down the bed, coming face to face with you, and immediately tips his head to lock you in a kiss. His tongue is more than eager to come and play with you, and the hand that was on your thigh moves up to knead your ass so hard you gasp, giving him the space he’s after to invade your mouth.

You're helpless to his attack, unmoving as his tongue explores freely, as he refamiliarises himself with every single taste bud, as he dips into each divot in your molars before finally pulling away. His lips instantly trail to litter wet, sloppy kisses along your jaw, humming as he follows the curve of your neck. He nips over your racing pulse, your heart beating through your ribcage, before sucking hickeys all over your soft skin, not leaving an inch of you untouched.

You get your answer when he rolls his hips against yours, and you feel his hardness poke at the apex of your thighs, rubbing against your sex with unyielding fervour.

You look so gorgeous today, alluring and dazzling as your skin shines with his spit, as you glow beneath his rough hands. He brushes your hair back, kissing over the apples of your cheeks, licking away the tears that fall from your eyes. Bokuto can't keep his eyes off of you. He can't tear his gaze away from the way your lips curl and sway as you whimper for him, as you call his name in that angelic lilt of yours, as you tell him you love him—

[thebangtancloud]

"I'm sorry it had to be me." ~ Jeon Jungkook

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst, Mafia AU

Warnings: Death

Word Count: 1.13K

Summary: When the pen that writes the end of your story lies in the hands of your lover.

A/N: So, I have never written a mafia au before, but I literally woke up even before the sun rose just because I dreamt of this very concept and I just knew I had to write it!! I'm not really into angsty endings, but I've decided to go with the way it ended in my dream. I really hope you like it!!

You knew this day would come, there was no running away from it. The day you set eyes on him, you just knew how it would end. From the very first kiss, instead of sweet whispers and giddy love confessions, you would remind each other of your dreadful fate. The first time he pushed you into his silk bedsheets, you told him how you wished you both could run away from the lives that you both lived.

Yet, you didn’t stop. Even though you should have, you didn’t. From stone-cold glares to eyes filled with tears, he never hesitated to fix your brokenness with his embrace. He never feared kissing away your pain even if he had to rush the two of you behind a car so that no one would notice. He would ever so softly clean your wounds and apologize in hushed whispers because it was his gang that hurt you. He would place tender kisses to your knees that were bruised and comfort you with arms that always wanted to protect you from the world. Even though he never said it, you knew it. You knew he loved you.

You could see it in those precious brown orbs of his, you could see the quiver of his lips as he watched you enter his room. You could see the tremble in his hand as he held the one thing that the two of you feared the most.

“Did it really have to be you?” he whispered, a single tear falling from his eye and onto the wooden flooring. “Please,” he begged, walking towards you with slow, petrified steps. He was so afraid, he so desperately wished there would be another answer, that what he heard wouldn’t be true. Even if you had lied to him at that very moment, he could've let it all go. But his eyes screwed shut when a heart-wrenching pain pulsated through his chest as he saw you nod.

“Darling,” he whimpered, finally reaching you to tenderly hold your head. With gentle eyes, he willed himself to absorb the very existence of you before him. The way your hair was held back messily with a tie that he knew was on the verge of snapping, the way the short ends of your hair always fell straight into your eyes, but his hands were always there to tuck them away. The way heavy tears made their way down the side of your nose, the way your tongue swiped out to run over your cracked lips.

Oh, your lips. If he could, he would only watch them for the rest of his life. If he could, he would make you sit still as he sketched an outline of them onto a piece of paper, only to realize that he would never get tired of telling you how beautifully they were sculpted. He found it difficult to look at you without reaching down to kiss them, so that’s just what he did.

“I’m sorry,” you cried, your arms reaching up to hold him as you stood on the tips of your toes. He whimpered as he pulled you against him, leaving no space between the two of you. Even though you didn’t want to, you understood him. Because there was no turning back.

When he pushed you against the couch for the last time, climbing over you and letting his mouth travel over the expanse of your chest for the very last time, you watched him pause over your sternum, letting his tears moisten your skin as he tenderly kissed the area above your heart. His eyes were red, tears streaming down his face even though you wiped them away countless times.

“Why did it have to be you?” he wept, looking up at you with so much love and regret.

You didn’t know. You didn’t know why it had to be you. Maybe it was your cursed fate. Maybe it was the family that brought you up. Whatever it was, you didn’t have the heart to admit it. He nodded, understanding you nevertheless, leaning forward to place a firm kiss on the corner of your lips, leaving tiny trails of his love over your skin.

“You killed him,” he mumbled against your cheek, reaching down to pull the fabric of your shirt over your chest again. “You killed my brother.”

“I had no choice,” you tried to explain, letting your fingertips roam over his arms, feeling utterly ashamed and broken.

"I know, darling."

As much as he knew it, you knew it too. You knew why he couldn’t stop the tears from escaping, you knew why he moved against you with a burning passion. You knew it all, and that’s what hurt the most.

“I’m sorry it had to be me,” you muttered, gently moving his brown locks away from his forehead. With a watery smile, you pulled his face down to kiss him again. He melted against you, yet you felt your blood run cold when you felt a soft pressure against your chest.

“I’m sorry it had to be me, too.”

And with that, he pressed his head into the curve of your neck, a soft cry leaving his lips as he pushed the knife into you.

"It's okay," you croaked, a trail of blood oozing out of your mouth. "It's okay."

His body trembled on top of you, his heart breaking at the whimper that reached his ears, your fingers clutching his arm with all the life that you had left within you. “I’m sorry,” he blubbered, leaving repeated wet kisses against your throat in hopes that he could relieve at least some of your pain, his wrist twisting the knife deeper into your sternum even though he didn’t want to.

“Jungkook…” he heard you wince, “I love you.”

And even if he felt the hair on his arms stand, even if his heart skipped a beat at the words he so desperately wanted to tell you, right from the very moment you let your lips trace the outline of the scar on his cheek the first time he spent the night with you, he knew there was no turning back. Even if he wished he would’ve just whispered them back to you before your grip on him loosened, even if he wished he showed you just how much he loved you before you breathed out your last breath, there was no turning back.

Even if he screamed in agony as he felt your blood paint his skin red, even if he pulled down the curtains and kicked over the table, even if he held that very knife that took you away from him against his own wrist, he knew there was no turning back.

There was no way he could let you know that he loved you too.

.

.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[darthmaulification]

Hey! Can I please make a request for a short Drabble where reader is Grogu’s nanny aboard the Razor Crest and Din develops a crush on her, but once he and the reader start visiting Grogu at Jedi School on weekends, Luke develops a crush as well? Doesn’t have to end up with either, but I would like to see either guy’s rivalry and slight jealousy (with Reader’s obliviousness).

A/N: ... okay so, i really got into the whole crush aspect of your request, anon, and this basically became a romantic prose piece. when i looked back to see what you had initially wanted, my product was... about thrice removed from the original prompt. 💀

i think i got some of the points??? like there’s din and luke and they’re both in love with reader and they both have a bit of rivalry with the other and basically that’s what matters??? please forgive me, anon, the ghost of sappho took my body over and forced me to write yearning love poetry!! 🙏 sis forced my hand!! 😭

though if there’s enough interest for it, i can always make a follow up for this, like from reader’s perspective, and write something a lil more in depth (once i get requests finished up that is). 😊

hope you enjoy! 💗

content: nothing but din and luke pining for reader, gn!reader (for the most part), use of she/her pronouns, fluff, but also a smidgen of angst 👁👁, perspective difference!!, kind of a commentary on mandalorian and jedi culture?? (mostly jedi culture lmao)

word count: 1,524

You’re beautiful.

He sees it now how your face lights up like candles being lit when his son succeeds at doing another one of his Jedi tricks. Joy illuminates your face like a spotlight, your soft cheers and kind praise make the whole room warmer. Din watches Grogu leap into your arms, cooing and squealing like he’s been given candy. It makes Din’s heart leap when you kiss his son on the head, and smile so warmly it’s like your lips become sunshine.

Din is infinitely grateful for his helmet in this moment, his face feels like it’s been too close to a fire. His fingers pick at a fraying stitch on his gloves, to prevent his hands from shaking in his lap. He hopes that the Jedi, who is standing casually across the room near you and Grogu, doesn’t notice. Din hopes you don’t notice what you’re doing to him.

I’m in love. 

The sentence slips through the cracks of his thoughts the way a sunrise peeks over the horizon. You look over at him, holding up Grogu triumphantly in your hands like you would a prize, and he sucks in a breath because suddenly it feels like all he can see is you. You and Grogu, you and his son.

Please be my riduur.

“Did you see that? Wasn’t it amazing?” And Din forces himself to dip his head in a slight nod, because the Jedi is also looking at him with piercing blue eyes the color of the sky. His heart pounding, and when you laugh, and it sounds like summertime when everything is good and happy.

People love, he thinks as he stares at you, and suddenly his palms are sweaty and he feels the need to tap his foot, but Mandalorians love harder.

I dream about you every night, think about you when I lie awake. You’re always holding sunflowers, and the nightmares don’t touch me then.

Mandalorians love like there is nothing else in the universe more valuable, nothing more precious, not their vibroblades, their blasters, or even their beskar.

Giving up a blaster and a vibroblade in order to save you from that hut’uun came to me like breathing, I didn’t even think about it... I would’ve given up my beskar’gam too. I still would.

Mandalorians love with their souls laid bare, they love with their entire body, they love with sacred vows, exchanged beskar rings, their riduur’s name engraved on their hal’cabur, above their heart.

When you slept beside me one night, I whispered the entire marriage vow to you in Mando’a. You looked so peaceful bathed in the light of the moon, the silvery glow making you look holy. I’ll admit, it came out mostly accidentally, but it felt so normal, natural even. I wish you hadn’t been asleep.

Mandalorians love in spite of death, they love in the face of it. They love like warriors.

I had gotten shot. All I remember is you holding me in your arms, hands pressed over the wound. I was in pain, and you were crying, covered in blood and dirt, but you were so warm. I’m still unsure if I had actually said what I think I said:

“I care about you too much to leave you.”

He wants to tell you all of this, but he’s never been much of a romantic, or much of a speaker in general, so the words falter on his tongue each time he’s tried. And Din’s tried so many times. You say something to the Jedi, and it makes a sudden, surprising fury bubble in his chest, the vile rising to his throat. Din has to bite his tongue to hold back from shouting:

Don’t talk to her, di’kut jetii! You are undeserving of her words, of her time, of her presence. Unworthy! You can’t give her what I can, shabuir.

You look over at him again, and the hot anger dies completely, leaving him powerless before you. Din felt this way each time he’s tried to tell you how much you mean to him.

I love you, cyare.

It feels like your eyes are boring holes straight through his beskar, through his flight suit, singing his skin with their warmth. Din bites his cheek so hard he tastes copper.

You smile. It’s like the dawn.

You are the sun— His sun— of his universe, and his eyes burn from the light.

Din basks in the rays, and his heartbeat starts to slow to it’s normal, steady rhythm.

Tomorrow. I’ll tell you tomorrow.

~

You’re beautiful.

He sees it now in how your entire expression blooms into one of pure joy when his padawan successfully levitates the crates. It radiates in your aura, the waves of mirth traveling further than your respectfully quiet cheers and meaningful praise. Luke watches as the child leaps into your embrace, babbling without forming any actual words. Something inside Luke lurches when you place a kiss on Grogu’s head, and when your vibrant smile dissolves his willpower.

Luke draws the Force in on himself, welcoming the sturdiness it brings. He tries to ignore how his palm has gotten sweaty, but he clenches his hand into a fist and hastily relaxes it. Focus, let in calmness like a breeze. Luke hopes that the Mandalorian, sitting stiff and looming on a far bench, doesn’t notice his moment of vulnerability. He pulls the Force closer, and hopes you don’t notice what you’re doing to him.

I’m in love.

The thought springs up in his mind the way shoots of new grass breach top soil in spring time. You glance over at him as you lift the child, and the look is as quick and fleeting as blossoms on trees, but it floats in the Force like dandelion seeds, and Luke is painfully aware of how consuming you are.

Please don’t do this to me.

“Did you see that? Wasn’t it amazing?” And Luke catches your eye, offering you the smallest smile he can afford without it breaking. You look to the Mandalorian, and Luke follows your gaze because he can’t compel himself to do much else. The Mandalorian’s visor is dark like the night, and flashes when he nods his head. Luke feels his heart sink when he senses it from him, a yearning so deep he nearly drowns in it.

People love, Luke thinks and he feels all at once envious and angry and so achingly acquiescent, because Jedi cannot.

I swore by the Code years ago, but I look at you and doubt it all. It can’t be that I’m this willing to rethink everything.

Jedi are forbidden from having attachments, they cannot pursue romantic interests. Love leads to passion, and it all is an influence of the Dark. Luke knows this. He’s fallen to it before.

I’ve spent decades forgetting how deeply I cared for him! But I am reminded daily of my father, every time I look in the mirror, I see his eyes. How dare you pull me back into this cruel trap! I can’t do this again.

Luke contains himself. Jedi value peace of mind, they extend the sentiment to upholding it in the galaxy as well. They do not do it out of love, but out of obligation, out of honor, because of what’s right. They are not love.

When I first met you it was like I’d seen you before, in a past life. It was like retracing my steps, following the trail backwards, revisiting something I had passed. Despite it all, I had moved forward and took my padawan from you and the Mandalorian, plucked him from you like a petal off a flower. I watched you wilt.

Luke reminds himself. Jedi do not love. Focus is key. The Force is everything.

But you are too.

Luke has to swallow in order to make sure the words never reach his mouth, and it’s like eating thorns. You turn back to him and the look in your eyes is tender like butterfly wings. The pink in your cheeks reminds Luke of windflowers.

“Thank you again, Luke,” His soul shivers when his name sounds in your voice, “It’s so kind of you to teach Grogu.”

As he replies and tells you it’s a pleasure, he almost spills everything to you, but an abruptness shifts the energy of the room. There is a lurking anger that crawls at him through the Force, entwines him like ivies. The Mandalorian fumes, the wrath trembles like billowing leaves. Don’t. Undeserving. Unworthy.

Luke forces himself to agree and squashes down everything, pushing each painful emotion into the deepest parts of him. He watches you look to the Mandalorian, your aura flowers with affection, love.

I love you.

His resolve is fading, again. Luke reminds himself, again. Jedi do not love. Jedi do not love. Jedi do not love.

You smile, and it stings his soul like nettle.

Luke forces himself to ignore that your eyes say different things when they settle on the Mandalorian than they had him. The thought feels like eating bittersweet berries.

Briefly, he revels in what could have been.

It’s for the best.

~

A/N: i thought i would add another note at the end of this to explain exactly what the heck i was saying with the word soup i just wrote.

first, din is so hopelessly in love with reader that it hurts. like physically makes his heart ache. i feel that when din falls in love, he falls in love. it consumes him. i wrote a lot of sun/light imagery to portray the overwhelming, all-encompassing love din feels for reader. you are the sun that warms him, and burns him. 

second, i purposely made luke have an even more tragic, even more conflicted crush on reader, on purpose, hahaha i am evil. 😈 he loves you, but forces himself not to. he tells himself that the jedi code means more. luke chooses to suffer because he knows that’s how it must be. there’s some plant/nature symbolism thrown throughout because that’s just the theme that i thought vibed with luke the most.

and that mention of anakin? i subscribe to the headcanon that luke really did love his dad, and just wanted him in his life, but of course, vader ultimately died. luke took a heavy blow from that, learned it hurts to love.

also, regarding the mini-rivalry that takes place, it’s through the force (if that wasn’t obvious) and it’s essentially another example of luke surrendering his own wants/desires and simultaneously din firmly declaring his love for you. it’s kinda meant to be the “understanding” between the two that clearly establishes who “wins” the reader.

... this was all one giant metaphor, huh?

[touyasdoll]

Every Single Piece

Request from @negative2b: dabi comforting and showering reader with cuddles 💕💕

Pairing: Dabi x reader

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: anxiety, depression, panic attacks, mental health warning in general

——————————

“Babe, I’m home.”

The familiar sound of Dabi’s wallet and keys thudding on the kitchen countertops stirred you from your thoughts for a moment.

Sniffling, you crawled across the floor of your shared bedroom and grabbed a handful of tissues, frantically blowing your nose and wiping at your eyes with the sleeve of the oversized hoodie you borrowed from his side of the closet.

“I’ll be right down!”

You tried to make your voice sound as normal as you could, but he must have heard through your attempted deception, because you could hear his footsteps rushing up the stairs immediately.

Tossing the tissues in the trash, you brought yourself to your feet and scampered into the bathroom to splash some cool water on your face.

You were patting your cheeks dry, observing your swollen, puffy eyes in the mirror when Dabi appeared behind you.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

The concern was so evident on his face and in his calm, soothing tone. It broke the dam all over again.

Tears sprung from your eyes, and the overwhelming feeling that you would never be okay overtook you for seemingly the millionth time that day.

Your knees suddenly felt like they couldn’t support you. Your chest ached like there was a void there that nothing could ever fill. The strange sensation of feeling both so heavy and so empty hit you in violent waves yet again.

You were so tired of this. Of feeling this way for seemingly no reason. Of being tricked by your own fucking brain. Of feeling so awful you couldn’t even put it into words, though you had tried.

It’s something that’s hard to explain. It’s a feeling that you don’t really know until you’ve felt it yourself. Unfortunately, Dabi knew the feeling well. He knew what it was like to look off the edge of that cliff and to feel like you couldn’t help it, but to spiral down into the unknown and sit there, drowning in the overwhelming nothingness of it all.

A sweat broke out over your entire body and it felt like someone had snatched your last breath from your lungs as you stumbled backwards, feeling as if you were falling off that cliff yet again. You shut your eyes tight, bracing for the next wave of sorrow to heave from your already oxygen-starved chest.

But Dabi was there to catch you this time. His strong arms wrapped around you from behind, resting his hands on your hips to steady you as he leaned you back against his chest.

The contact alone provided a sense of relief to your overstimulated body as you allowed yourself to fall into his embrace.

“Another bad day, baby? I’m so sorry that you have to go through this, sweetheart. You don’t deserve this pain..”

Mismatched lips placed a chaste kiss on your temple as Dabi bent his knees, carefully scooping you off of your feet and pulling you tight into his warm chest.

“Dabi..”

Barely more than a whisper escaped your lips, tears still streaming as you clutched to the loose collar of his shirt like he was the only thing keeping you alive, because, honestly, sometimes he was.

He was so always so kind and even more patient. It was something that you two had been able to bond over, because you knew how each other felt. Everyone else in the world knew Dabi as aggressive and heartless, but with you, he was anything but.

As gently as he could, he laid down in your bed and pulled you against his chest as he feathered kisses into your hair. His left arm began rubbing small, soothing circles across your back, as his right began delicately combing through your hair.

“I know, baby, I know. It’s gonna be okay, all right? You and I both know you’re gonna come through this. I’ll be right here with you until then. I promise, I’m not gonna let you go until you’re begging me to.”

You could feel his sympathetic smile against your forehead as he placed more kisses still along the side of your face.

A quiet laugh found its way past your lips as you smiled for the first time that day.

“I don’t think I’ll ever want you to let me go.”

Nuzzling into his chest, you closed your eyes and basked in the ambiance of his proximity to you. His scent. His warmth. The beating of his heart thumping in your ears.

The world was finally quieting down. You finally felt safe again. Safe, warm, and happy.

His warm lips remained pressed to your temple as he spoke again, his voice low and reassuring.

“Well, then I guess we’ll be stuck like this for a while. That’s all right with me though, doll. There’s no place I’d rather be than right here with you.”

A tissue appeared in your peripheral vision. Dabi’s capable hand dabbed at the tears still lingering on your flushed cheeks before resting his palm on your cheek.

“Thank you, babe. I’m so sorry for all this, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I jus—“

His thumb ghosted over your lips as a gentle shushing noise left his own.

“Baby, nothing is wrong with you. You are perfect. We all have bad days. You’ve seen me through mine. This is the absolute least that I can do. You never have to apologize for being human around me, okay? I love you. Absolutely all of you. None of this makes me love you any less.”

You place your hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze as you place a soft kiss on the inside of his palm and smile against his touch.

The last of your tears are swept away by his fingertips as he looks down into your eyes with nothing but love and sympathy shining through his cerulean orbs.

“I love you, Y/n. I love every single piece of you.”

Tangling the fingers of your other hand absently in his hair, you examine his features. The eyes that have shed tears both with you and for you. The nose that has wrinkled through the countless tickle fights that you’ve subjected him to. The lips that have only ever poured love, support, and adoration out for you.

“I love you too, Dabi. I love every single piece of you too.”

Your eyes flutter shut as he closes the distance between you, pressing his lips against yours.

Sighing through your nose, you feel the tension of the day begin to melt off of your back as you lean in to his delicate kisses.

“Did I mention how I much I love you already?”

His lips curled into a smile, continuing to connect with your in a series of the sweetest kisses you’ve ever had the pleasure of tasting.

“Once or twice.”

A giggle vibrates off of your grin and his heart soars.

Dabi hated seeing you in pain and he took great pride in being the one who was able to elicit that beautiful noise from your lips after an episode like this.

Hearing your laugh was music to his ears and he didn’t give a damn about just how cliché that may sound.

Seeing you smile gave him the strength he needed to carry in each day.

Being given the opportunity to love you was a blessing to him and it wasn’t something that he took lightly. He wanted to love you with everything he had and he would never offer you anything less than that.

Both of his arms wound around you once more, holding your to his chest as if you were the most precious thing in the world, because to him, you were.

The warmth of his lips nestled against the shell of your ear, whispering now as he resumed playing with your hair and rubbing those wonderfully soothing circles into your back.

“Well, I hope you aren’t sick of hearing about it yet, because there’s plenty more where that came from.”

Your shoulders became slack as the remainder of the day’s tensions evaporated from your body, allowing you to fully sink into your lover’s welcoming grasp, where you blissfully spent the rest of your evening.

The stress of the day had taken a toll on you. It wasn’t long before you had fallen asleep on Dabi’s chest, but he didn’t mind. Feeling you up against him, safe and sound asleep in his arms brought him his own sense of comfort.

He stayed right there, curled up with you, lips still pressed against your temple as he drifted off to sleep himself.

[hlizr50]

Terms of Endearment

I'm obsessed with Nesryn and Sartaq. And I am not ashamed.

Read on AO3

It had started innocently enough.

When Sartaq had slid his hands around her middle and drew her back into his chest their first night alone after the great victory, planting a kiss to that sensitive bend where her shoulder met her neck. He had seemed to breathe her in.

“My darling,” he’d sighed.

Nesryn had been taken aback, unaccustomed to pet names from him. Perhaps it was because they had fallen in love in the midst of war – not the time or place for terms of endearment.

But as soon as that final battle was over, it was as if Sartaq made it his mission to shower her with affection, praise, and every endearment he could possibly think of.

“My darling,” he had breathed into her neck that first night. It had been surprising, but not unwelcome. Nesryn was not accustomed to intimacy such as this, but she couldn’t deny the feeling of warmth that it sparked in her. Sartaq, so unlike any man she had ever known, made her feel precious and adored. Even when they were both covered in blood and gore.

“Good morning, sweet angel,” he murmured when she awoke in their shared cabin as they sailed back to the southern continent. She huffed out a laugh at him, but he only grinned back and tucked her messy morning hair behind her ear.

“I’m sure there is nothing angelic about me right now.” With a grumble she tucked herself into his chest, allowing her to feel his rich chuckle rumble through her. How fortunate for them that they had this opportunity to just be. That they had survived.

“You couldn’t be more wrong,” he answered. “Angel.”

Nesryn just shook her head and drifted back to sleep in the arms of her prince.

~~~

As wonderful and loving as Sartaq had been, she had still physically cringed when he called her ‘sweetheart’. So much so that he had pulled back from the embrace he’d so tenderly wrapped her in, instead grabbing her by the shoulders and finding her eyes.

“Nesryn?”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “It’s nothing. Really.”

“Nesryn Faliq, it is obviously not nothing.” The prince reached up a hand to cup her cheek, and she closed her eyes with a sigh and leaned into that strong, comforting anchor. “Don’t hide from me, love. Please.”

She pulled his hand away, grasping it in both of hers. She loved his hands, the strength in them. They had seen battles for his homeland, for the world, and were still gentle against her flesh in those in-between moments when he made sure to remind her how loved she was.

“In Rifthold,” she began with a deep breath. “As a woman trying to make her way up the ranks, I found myself at odds with many a condescending man. Men who felt that a woman didn’t belong in the guard. Men who felt that a woman shouldn’t speak her mind. Men who felt entitled to my affections. And nearly all of them, being creatures of minimal creativity and intellect, would call me ‘sweetheart’ when they spoke to me as if I were nothing more than the dirt beneath their feet.”

Sartaq’s free hand fell at the small of her back and pulled her against him, lips falling against her temple.

“True men recognize and respect strength, regardless of whether it is a man or woman who possesses it. They were fools.” He rested his forehead against hers. “I will remember not to call you sweetheart. But know that you are my love, always, Nesryn Faliq.”

“And you are mine.”

~~~

“There you are, my beautiful morning dove.”

Nesryn turned, rolling her eyes, to find Sartaq striding toward her. He always wore that easy grin that toed the line between confident and arrogant. She hated how handsome that arrogant smirk looked on his tanned face.

“Good morning, your highness,” she answered haughtily. The prince only laughed.

“So formal, my lovely spring flower.” He was close enough for her to swat at him.

“You are insufferable,” she scowled, but her eyes had glittered with mirth.

“Insufferably in love with a stunning warrior goddess.” The prince grabbed her by the hips and leaned in for a kiss, but she turned her lips away from him. He didn’t let that stop him, though, and he simply peppered her cheek instead. Nesryn couldn’t contain her laughter.

~~~

Nesryn hadn’t thought that anything could be more exhausting than her time fighting in the war for Terrasen.

And yet, after a day of wedding planning with Duva and Hasar, she ached down to her bones from pacing. Her eyelids drooped dangerously as she stumbled into the suite she shared with Sartaq. She hadn’t made it two steps in when she was scooped into the prince’s arms.

“Empress of my heart, you look exhausted,” he whispered into her hair. Nesryn groaned.

“I’m too tired to even object to your ridiculous pet names tonight,” she grumbled. His chuckle rumbled through her, warming her aching nerves. She was not cut out for planning a royal wedding. How would she ever be empress?

A worry she would have to put off for another day. She did not have the strength.

“I shall have to take advantage, then, of your helplessness.” Sartaq carried her to their enormous bed. “Windseeker, song of my soul.”

“Sartaaaaaaq. If I didn’t love you so much I would hate you,” she muttered as he set her down, laying her shoulders and head on a veritable mountain of pillows. Instead of circling to the other side, the prince lifted a knee and placed it near her thigh on the mattress and climbed so she was caged between his arms and legs.

“You could never hate me, my beautiful cherub,” he chuckled as she grimaced. Sartaq leaned down and pecked the tip of her nose before rolling onto her other side. A strong hand wound around her stomach and pulled her back against a hard chest.

“I’m beginning to think maybe you just don’t remember my name, and you mean to overwhelm me with affectionate trickery.” Her eyes were already closed, the sensation of his lips against the shell of her ear making her shiver with delight. Damn him.

“Nesryn Faliq. Nieth’s arrow. Former captain of the Adarlanian king’s guard. Princess of the rukhin. Queen of my heart. My future empress –“ he grunted as Nesryn elbowed him in the ribs, but he only held her closer, whispering in her ear. “There will never be enough beautiful words to describe you. But I have never backed down from a challenge.”

~~~

They were to be married the next day. As was customary, Nesryn and Sartaq would spend the night apart. They stood in the middle of their sitting room, her head resting on his chest and his arms holding her against him.

“I shall miss you tonight, light of my soul,” he murmured, raising a hand to slide fingers over her hair.

“Could you not just call me by my name, for once?” The words ground together like stone. She didn’t mean to sound so callous.

“Does it truly bother you, Nesryn? All this time, have you truly hated the way I speak to you?” Sartaq’s voice was nearly as quiet as that day he had first told her that he loved her. That day when they both thought they would never have a chance to see what their future could be. Nesryn took an unsteady breath against him.

“Of course not, Sartaq. Every word that you utter is beautiful. It warms me down to my core. It’s just…” Her voice trailed off. The prince gently unwrapped his arms and pulled back so he could see her face. His warm eyes gave her strength, and his strong weathered hands wrapped around her much smaller ones. “Sartaq… I’m no princess. I’ve spent most of my life avoiding praise for my accomplishments or appearances. They were all expectations, and I knew that – as a woman – if those expectations were not exceeded, even if the margins were slim and the odds impossible, I would be cast out. Left with nothing. I have been a warrior. Royal archer, member of the royal guard, and captain of it. I know nothing of flattering, fancy words or poetic declarations of love.”

Nesryn lifted their joined hands and pulled them against her chest, lowering her gaze to them. “Everything you say makes me feel incredible, precious, adored. Never in my life did I think I could find a future like this, a love so astounding. What bothers me is that I do not possess those skills or gifts, and I fear I cannot give the same feelings to you that you give to me.”

The silence between them… she hated it. Sartaq was always so self-assured and knew exactly what to say, but all she could hear was the sound of their breaths softly escaping. Anxiety rippled through her when he pulled his hands away, but they landed on her cheeks.

“Nesryn Faliq. My warrior’s heart,” he murmured, tilting her face up. She lifted her eyes, lips parting at the heat she saw glimmering in his dark gaze. “I fell in love with you just as you are. I fell in love with Nesryn Faliq, Captain of the Royal Guard. I have no expectations of flowery love poems or lengthy declarations of devotion. I have no need of those things. The only thing I have need of is you. Call me by my name. Call me by my title. Call me an arrogant bastard, if you feel so inclined. So long as you do it with that smile upon your face, with that love sparkling in your eyes, then I will be the most blessed man in all the world.”

Nesryn lifted her hands, fingers tracing up the strong line of his jaw. Her lips tilted up as a slow smile spread across her face. “I can do that.”

“And I call you such outlandish things, pour my heart out to you, precisely because of what you just said. You have spent your life conquering challenge after challenge. And while your skills and achievements are considerable, the world around you was not prepared to grant you the adoration you deserve for it. I strive to make you feel incredible, precious, adored, because that is what you have always deserved.” Sartaq dipped his chin, brushing his lips tenderly over hers. Resting his forehead against hers, their hands cupping each other’s cheeks, he murmured, “And I would be lying if I said I didn’t quite revel in making you blush and rendering you frustrated and speechless.”

One of Nesryn’s hands found his braid and tugged on it, a blush painting her face. But she smiled serenely, beaming at the man who would be her husband in a number of hours.

“I love you, my prince,” she whispered.

“And I love you, Windseeker,” he answered. He kissed her again, not nearly as softly but just as brief. “Tonight, I will sleep with empty arms, and then never again. For the rest of our days.” Sartaq finally pulled away, knowing rest was needed. He backed away, his gaze never wavering from hers. When he reached the doorway he leaned on it casually, crossing his arms.

“Imagine the pet names I will come up with once I can call you ‘wife’.”

Nesryn groaned and rolled her eyes, waving him off as she turned toward their bedroom. “Arrogant bastard,” she grumbled.

The prince’s rich, throaty laugh echoed through the sitting room as she slammed the door.

I have not tagged people here, since my tag list requests have come from my ACOTAR fic posts. If you would like to be tagged in any work I post, or if you have preferences as to fandom, please reach out!!

[theotheroccassionalfanficwriter]

That Rosaria x reader fic was absolutely perfect. I would love to see one of Beidou with a strap on x F Reader if that’s alright!

Sorry it took so long, this is a bit tame compared to Rosaria, less horny and more smut with feelings. Anyways have a Beidou x F! Reader that was inspired by Tian Guan Ci Fu’s OST

--

Singing Magpies in Liyue Harbor

Beidou x Female Reader

Rating: E for explicit description of sex and yearning

Summary: No matter how far you have fallen, in Beidou’s eyes you would always be that noble lady that she had fallen for.

---

If there was a list of people Beidou had a soft spot for, you would be the first on the list. No one knew why, much less you, a fallen noble lady but even so it was one of Beidou’s guarded secrets. The reason eluded you, and you made your peace with it. You didn’t care about why she would be sweet to you, or why she would choose you to warm her bed at night. 

‘There are some things,’ You thought ‘that are better left in the dark.’ This much you knew after falling from grace, being trampled upon and mocked by your former peers.

“Are you thinking about the past again?” Beidou asked, her sleeping robes were wide open and the scent of plum wine lingered in the air.

From the mirror of your boudoir, you stared at her, smiling softly and fondly. Beidou was a handsome and beautiful woman, toned stomach and in this particular night filled with ambiguous air, she was alluring with her soft eyes and teasing smile.

“How could I not?” You replied, “That I can live well is because of your grace.”

And it was the truth, you were a noble lady of high birth, pampered and spoiled by your family. You had never experienced any hardship, never had to starve, or live under the stress of making ends meet. You were Liyue’s most sought after flower, up until your family fell out of grace. How great was the praise for you was equal to the scorn and mockery you received.

And at the lowest point of your life, when you had resigned to sell your body just to feed your family for one more day, she had arrived before you. You were just a stranger to her, a fallen noble lady who only had the mastery of the four arts as a redeeming quality. And yet, she was the only one who had offered you warmth.

You felt her arms wrapped around you, a familiar comfort as you passed your days in her service. It didn’t matter that your reputation was reduced as Beidou’s whore behind your back. What mattered was this gentle warmth that saved you from the brink of despair.

You felt her lips pressed gently on your hair, and you smiled softly and foolishly in love with this woman who slayed beasts. You smiled at her through the mirror, your lips were painted with red rouge, cheeks flushed with the heat from the plum wine and your arousal. 

Slowly you dropped the collar of your inner robes, ever so slowly enticing her with the gradual reveal of the skin of your nape, your smooth collarbones, and then the valleys of your chest. Beidou watched everything unfold with eyes burning hot as her calloused hands gently and reverently touched your hair moving it away to bite at your neck playfully. And with practiced ease, began to disrobe you, all the while never taking her eyes off you in the mirror.

You watched her back with half-lidded eyes, hazy with the beginnings of lust as her hands roamed over your body, teasing you mercilessly with her skillful fingers. There was no need for words between the two of you, not in this instance, where your body was completely Beidou’s to play with.

You moaned when her fingers dipped inside the folds of your pussy, body arching in pleasure as you sought after the feeling of her fingers against your clit. You feel her kiss on your cheek and you opened your eyes and found yourself still being surprised by the sincere look of love in her eyes.

“Beidou��”you called out her name softly, pleading for more, there is a part of you that wonders what your past self would say now, with your shameless act of lust.

But all thoughts of self-mockery was washed away by Beidou’s sweet kiss, as if you were her precious lover and not some one she had saved to warm her bed. Her mouth devoured you as her fingers plunged in and out of your pussy, you kissed her with all that you had, arms circling on her neck as you exchanged heated kisses.Your robe was wide open, breasts rubbing against Beidou’s naked chest as you felt her fingers curl and give you your first orgasm of the night. 

The ship was silent, and the sea was calm, amidst such peaceful scenery was the sounds of debauchery coming from Beidou’s resting quarters. Beneath the soft orange light of the lamp were two bodies moving in rhythm. You on the bottom and Beidou on top, attached in front of her was a jade dildo, strapped on her hips that laid perfectly in front of her pussy.

You moaned with each thrust that slid in and out of you easily, your breasts jiggled with each thrust Beidou made. She smiled at you as perspiration gathered on her forehead, her own pussy clenching at the dildo that was inside her. Each thrust she made inside you would make her pussy take in the dildo that was attached at the other end of the strap on.

The erotic squelched of your wet pussy only served to aroused her, making her chase her own orgasm as you came another time. Beidou didn’t stop moving even as you came once more from oversensitivity. The sheets of Beidou’s bed were already drenched with cum and sweat and despite that, you made no move to stop, only continuing to beg her for more.

You embraced her, eyes shut as you kissed her and had your tongue explore the inside of her mouth. You tasted the plum wine she had drunk and found yourself intoxicated from the lust and the taste of the wine. Beidou detached your mouth with the slightest reluctance before turning her focus on your perked up nipples, glistening with sweat and saliva from the numerous times she had already sucked and bitten it.

Beidou’s thrusts didn’t stop even as her mouth plundered your breasts once more. Her free hand held yours, entwining it as if ensuring you would never escape from underneath her as you moaned her name. Your pussy clenched as you came once more, you opened your blurry eyes as you watched Beidou’s face overcome with pleasure. 

You smiled before kissing the top of her head softly, “Let me ride you?” You asked as Beidou let you maneuver her body to have her lie down on her back.

“Mmn.” She answered as she helped you steady yourself and watched as you easily slid pussy down the jade dildo. With dilated pupils and rising arousal, Beidou gripped your hips as you began to slowly move up and down the dildo before gradually raising your speed until your breasts were bouncing from the force of you slamming your g-spot again and again against the tip of the dildo.

It didn’t help that Beidou’s hips met the timing of you slamming down the dildo, thus increasing the amount of force that was sending you to celestia with the pleasure that came from having your g-spot pounded. The same could be said to Beidou who was enjoying the feeling of having her pussy pounded and the erotic sight you painted. The smell of wine in the room was now mixed with the combined scent of Beidou’s and your arousal.

The moans and grunts that eminated from Beidou’s room painted an erotic night in anyone’s mind that was close enough to hear it. The way you looked as you chased after your pleasure made Beidou yearn for you stronger than usual and she couldn’t help but pull you down for a kiss. She hugged you tightly as she kissed you deeply and moved her hips for both of your pleasures. As you both stopped for air, your eyes met with red ones, in that moment as your hair slowly slid down and tangled with hers, you could not help but feel your heart quicken, your cheeks to heat up.

“I…” You paused, not knowing if now was the right time to say it.

“It’s alright,” Beidou comforted you “we can just sleep for now.”

And you slowly feel your body relax as you lowered yourself to her side, eyes looking at her as Beidou turned to bring you closer to her equally naked and messy body. You could feel your heart fill up with messy unspeakable emotions, ones you swore to do away when your entire world had turned its back on you.

And yet as the clutches of sleep took you in its gentle embrace, you couldn’t help but think, ‘Before I met you...I never realized how easy it was to be happy.’

As you slept well in her arms, Beidou didn’t bother to hide the swelling emotions in her eyes as she remembered the first time she had met you. On that hot summer day, with hunger in her stomach and desperation setting in. She was brave and foolish enough to steal from a noble lady, what misfortune it was to be caught and berated harshly.

And yet, on that day when she had resigned herself to death, you had stood in front of her. Gentle and kind, eyes without a shred of pity as you ordered her servants to let go of you, treating her wounds with precious medicine. Feeding her and allowing her family to live for one more day.

She had resigned herself on having her measly pride trampled on, resigned to the misery of poverty and yet you who stood on top had given her hope. Beidou never forgot how you had protected her worthless measly pride back then nor did she forget the life-saving grace you had given her.

The reforms your family made to help eradicate poverty was what gave her a chance to turn her life around. That act of kindness that was nothing in your eyes was burned deep in her heart. The words you spoke that day had laid the foundations on who she was today.

“No one would like to steal unless they are forced to do so, let this child go. A few missing fruits would not bring our family into starvation but these fruits can let their family live another day.” You spoke with sincerity and Beidou knew that you were truly kind.

She had spent each day since then sneaking into your courtyard, hoping to catch a glimpse of you, running away when caught and yet you made no move to complain. Allowing her to come and go as she pleased, giving her food, clothes and mora.

She watched as you grew up, changing from a sweet and energetic girl to the ideal noble lady of Liyue’s nobility. She took tabs on you as she built her reputation, hoping to get the chance to get closer to you. But life had its twist and turns, by the time she had gotten the reputation she needed to get close to you, it was too late. 

You were no longer Liyue’s top beauty, a flower that had fallen into disgrace with your family’s debts. Beidou had searched for any news of you, paying handsomely just to know your outcome. She was unresigned, and determined to return the life debt she owed you.

Each rumor and mockery that was made against you was wound in her heart. To her, you were a beloved lady that was meant to be adored forever, loved by the people around you. And yet, the friends she thought cared about you as much as she did abandoned you easily, trampling upon your dignity as if the past friendship was mere trash.

Who would have known that she would find you in Liyue Harbor’s red district. Eyes as empty as your cold smile as you allowed yourself to be appraised. In that moment, seeing your out of season clothes and the lack luster shine of phoenix hairpin, Beidou made the boldest decision she had ever made.

You had already suffered enough, in her eyes, you were just an innocent daughter carrying the sins of your father. So she snatched you away from your prospective buyer and bought you for herself.

“1,000,000 mora for her” Beidou said as she pulled you into her arms, “you can get the payment from the Northland bank under my name.”

And she took you away without looking back. Beidou knew that you could feel her hand shaking but even so she carried on, ignoring the whispers as she took you aboard the Alcor. She couldn’t allow you to be tainted, to be plunged in the pit of despair just to live another day.

On that day, in the privacy of her quarters, Beidou swore that you would never experience such humiliation and hardship again. With trembling hands and sorrowful eyes, she asked for you to spend your life, to walk hand in hand until both of your hairs turned white.

“It is my blessing to have received your grace at this time” you answered her and gave yourself to her that same day. A part of Beidou wondered if you regretted that you couldn’t wear the red clothes of a bride or enter the bridal sedan.

She wondered as she gave you your first experience with pleasure if a part of you resented that salvation came in this form. But even so, she didn’t want to stop as she tasted you, as her mouth left a trail of bites and kisses down your body.

She savored the taste of your pussy as she lapped your juices up, her hands held your thighs tightly as she made sure to make your first time pleasurable. She wanted you to forget all painful things and only look forward to the joy and prosperity she would bring you.

“Beidou” You called out her name, so softly, pleading for something you weren’t even sure you knew and it was enough to make her heart swell and acknowledge what she had been ignoring for a long time.

“Don’t cry,” She appeased you, kissing away your tears as she gently coaxed another orgasm out of you “I’ll take care of you.”

“I’ll never make you suffer again.”

“I’ll always be by your side.”

“You’ll never be abandoned again.”

Beidou muttered all these promises as she fucked you again and again until daybreak arrived and you had already passed out from exhaustion. And now as she lay beside you she couldn’t help but grab a few strands of your hair that fell on your face.

She brought it close to her mouth and kissed it gently.

“It’s fine if you never remember, but my dear, I want you to know that what I love is you and not the state of you.”

[alixdelcourt]

You're way too precious to me

Ft. Katsuki Bakugou, Eijirou Kirishima, Denki Kaminari x female reader

Genre : angst, deep and dark angst (I had hard time writing this) and slight comfort in the end

WC and warnings : 2.7 k / Angst, dark mood, hurt feelings, depression, emotional burn out, light mention of self-harm, crying and feeling down. Please be careful reading this, and skip it if you're insecure or having mental troubles, I struggled writing this and felt hurt myself, so please be careful.

Note : I hope that I achieved your request okay, @d3nk1x, and that it's what you requested for. I discovered that I am not that comfortable with angst... I definitely prefer fluff or smut. This isn't for me... So maybe it's not well writen. Please let me know.

Dating katsuki Bakugou is quiet a big deal, and not always an easygoing relationship. All the anger, frustration and brutality he bottles inside of him prevents bakugou from being a perfect boyfriend. But, whatever ! Who needs perfection anyway ? When you felt in love with him, you were aware of all these matters. You love him just the way he is. After all, love is for the better and for the worse, so you always find your way forgiving his roughness and harsh attitude.

But, lately, you find yourself patching up your own feelings and emotions because of him. You have more and more trouble taking the blows, and some wounds of yours refuse to heal. So you slightly change, trying to give him hints of your unhappiness, of your insecurities. But in vain…

Today has been particularly tough, and you just feel… down. You need whatever comfort you can find, and you’re craving for your boyfriend affection. But today hasn’t been a good day for him as well. He lost all his training sessions to Kirishima and Deku, and he’s pissed off. So when you came up to him and asked for a few caring, he just… erupts. You were a sadness soused combustible, and his fury sparks caught fire on you so well. He poured all of his raging emotions on you, and the words he spat to you were like sharp knives cutting your skin and letting all of the pain seep deep into you.

… You just wanted some cuddles. Was it too much to ask ? Just a pinch of affection to sprinkle on your illness. An ounce of empathy. And here you are, buried under your blanket, fist clenched, closed eyes crying, and all your body shaking because of the your hurted feelings. His words keep streaming in your mind, destroying you a little more every time they start again.

“Stop clinging at me like you do ! Look at you, you seem so miserable right now… It really pisses me off.

“Please… Katsuki… I need you… I need your-”

“ F*ck off ! You’re always so whiny ! Such a crybaby ! Stop being so dependant and clingy ! I am not your baby-sitter !”

“But… But…”

“I said f*ck off! Get the hell away, and leave me alone ! I can’t stand crybabies like you !”

The message has been perfectly received. It’s printed in capital letters behind your eyelids.

You felt asleep, exhausted from crying, and when you wake up, you couldn’t tell how much time did you spent laying there. But it doesn’t matter. You don’t feel able to get out of your bed, so you just stay here, in the warm fluffy embrace. Whenever you feel some thought triggering your mind, you bite your flesh hard and the concentrate on the pain ‘til you forgot why you started doing this. After a few times, you couldn’t even think of a straight complete sentence.

When the blanket was roughly removed from over you, you didn’t even blink. With a quite long delay, you realize that you should feel the cold air, the disturbing noise and even his touch on your skin… But you’re like under anesthetic. Which makes Bakugou freaks out. He tries to make you react, slaps you, screams your name, while shouting for someone to help him. You’re conscious, but you can’t feel anything. You should probably answer him, but why would you do ? seeing him shouting at you, you think that he’s still mad at you… Why did he come for you then ? If he doesn’t want you anymore, why is he here ? You don’t understand what’s happening.

Maybe because you don’t realize that from his point of view, you seem… dead. Your body is cold and your eyes are empty. The other students called for Aizawa, and recovery Girl came to auscultate you as well. But you didn’t notice, lost in the fog inside your head.

And when you “woke up” from this choc state, you was kind of surprised by a caring boyfriend of yours, who hugs you tight and cuddles you all day long, apologizing and whispering to not ever do this to him again. And when you asked “do what ?”, he goes like “nevermind”, before holding you close. It’s Kirishima that told you what happened. You went through an emotional burn out for a few days, and Bakugou was literally freaking out and feeling guilty because of what he told you. He didn’t mean to hurt you like this, he was mad and didn’t think of the consequences of what he said. He promised he won’t act like this again. He felt like he lost you, and it was unbearable. You’re way too precious for him.

Your relationship with Eijirou Kirishima is based on routines. You both like the fact that you follow a settled pattern that time made up for you. Just small little things that remind you two of the love and affection you share. For example, you wait for him in the morning to go to your classes together, and he waits for you to tidy up your things after class before reaching the cafeteria. He kisses you for goodnight, and you play with his hair for him to fall asleep.

Loving him is easy and sweet. And even if you have arguments, because every healthy relationship goes through some arguments, both of you try to find a way or a solution to deal with it. And lately these times, you just feel so in love with him, you literally can’t help but kissing him all day, spinning around him like a light feather carried by the breath of love between you two.

It’s quiet late at night, and you were in his room. You always end up in his room after dinner for some cuddles and maybe watch a movie together. Then you two just do your own things until you’re getting sleepy and head to bed with the goodnight routine of yours. Like chilling, each one on his own but together. Doesn’t makes a lot of sense, but it works for you two, so you just don’t mind. Tonight, you two had to study for the next math exam that was coming. And it was difficult. Math gives you headache, and hopefully Eijirou is a patient tutor. He kept repeating for you until you got the point. You’re proud of you, and so is he, but you ended the study session a little bit delayed, and he was late to his online gaming sessions with Denki and Sero. He let you finish the last exercise on your own and connect quickly to catch up with the boys.

You read a book, but can’t concentrate with all the math in your head. You can hear your boyfriend gaming and he looks way too attractive to you with his hair flattened by his headphones, tongue sticking out because he’s focused on his game. You smile before reaching his lap. You comfortably sit on it and hug him to express your affection. This is a way better position for reading.

But you still can’t concentrate. Not with your body pressed against him, with you’re *ss on his crotch, with all the dirty thoughts running in your mind. You throw away your annoying book, and start kissing the redhead’s neck. He smells so good… A mix of his wooden scent gel shower and the bitter fresh scent of his aftershave. You get pretty excited, imagining this perfume ruined by his sweat while pounding you. Picturing all these thoughts and imagining Eijirou’s lips on your, you’re getting really needy, aren’t you ? You can’t help but move your hips and rub your lower part on his. Maybe this will get him hard and he’ll be just as needy as you. Maybe you could sleep over here tonight…

But no. Your moving just annoys him. He can’t focus properly on what he’s doing while you wriggle around and sigh on his skin. He can’t hear you moan, he can’t see the desire in your eyes, nor notice the excitation you’re in. He tries to push you off his lap, but you keep trying to get him out of his play. Game over appeared in bloody letters on his screen, and he removes his headphones. When you try to frame his cheeks in order to kiss him, he pushes you away.

“You’re really annoying, you know that ?”

“You say that only because you lost… Come here, let me comfort you”

“No. Not when you’re the reason why I lost. Anyway, I am not in the mood.”

He keeps avoiding your touches and attempts to lay him on bed.

“What is it, babe ? Why don’t you want me to touch you ?”

“I just don’t want to right now. Can’t you understand it ? Or do I need to keep repeating myself like for everything else ?”

This was like a cold shower. It cancelled every single drop of excitement you had. You clench your teeth.

“Okay. I get it.”

And you reach you own room, without any of you wish each other good night. While turning in bed, you couldn’t tell if you’re angry, or disappointed, or sad, or furious, or… You’re hurt. This was an emotion injury you couldn’t explain. And you had no clue even after thinking about this all night. You didn’t manage to sleep, and you were totally depressed and out of your plate on the morning. Like totally lost. You did nothing right. Since breakfast, you kept trudging and having trouble answering even basic questions like “Can you please hand me the butter ?”. This day has passed at a maddening speed, and you can’t tell what happened most of the times. For example, you know that you took an exam today, but you can’t say if it was difficult or not, if you completed it or not. Basically, today you were a zombie.

You desperately needed some sleep. So, in the middle of the dinner, while Momo was pouring you some tea she made for you because you seemed tired, you stood up and went to your room, mumbling a good night by habit. You just crumble on your bed.

“Pebble… Pebble, are you okay ?”

You didn’t even notice that Eijirou followed you, really worried about you. He snugs in the bed with you and hold you close. You two have a difficult conversations when you tell him about all the confusion and the pain you feel. He apologizes and hold you close all night long. And he’ll never act like this again, because the way you were today was definitely not okay for him. From missing his morning kiss to looking like a zombie, nothing was okay. He will watch his mouth to not hurt you anymore because you’re way too precious to him.

Denki has an outgoing personality, no doubt on it. You two are like day and night, you complement yourselves pretty well. He was a loud troublemaker and you are a quite and peaceful person. And these differences are precious to you, but sometimes it’s too complicated to handle.

He’s a loving boyfriend, but he can’t help himself. Always too cheerful, too playful, with anyone. He gets really flirty with any girl that talks to him, even if you’re right there, watching. He tells you to don’t mind, because he doesn’t do this on purpose. It’s just like… like a game. He gets female and even male’s attention, and he feels confident acting out like that. So you just accept it. Have you even got the choice ?

You don’t notice it anymore. His random smirks to Mina, his winks to Jirou, “innocent” sexual implied comments to Toru… Daily, there’s always someone to flirt or to tease with. And it’s the same with random strangers.

Like today. Well… You have to admit that this waitress is really pretty with her bright shiny smile and her disheveled hair buns. And, yeah, maybe she was attractive when she was wrapping this loose lock of her hair around her finger, shyly blushing when Denki was complimenting her and obviously undressing her with his gaze. And of course you can’t deny the fact that she is sexy. Certainly, all this shit is true. But today was supposed to be your day.

Denki and you are on date, he brought you to this fancy place to celebrate your date anniversary. This is all about you and him being in love. So, just for once, you want him to concentrate this flirty attitude of his on you. Was it too much to ask ? But you accept it, once again. He did all the conversation during the meal, and you barely enjoyed the dishes. You just wait for the end of this date to leave the place and the waitress behind.

But your patience has its owns limits. That were crossed far away when the b*tchy waitress, who purposely ignored you all the time, bent over and touched your boyfriend’s lap, giving him the dessert’s menu. You see red all over you, furious and mad, expecting Denki to react, but he just chuckles and light touches her forearm. What was this ? He never allowed anyone to act like this with him. Or maybe you just didn’t know…

“Thank you, miss, but I think that we don’t need you anymore. We’re leaving, could you bring the bill ?”

She stutters a bit, looking at Denki, who was too chocked to react.

“Aren’t we eating the dessert ? Why do you want to leave ?”

“I don’t feel comfortable, I just wanna go home please”

“And I want a dessert, could you please wait ?”

“No, I can’t. I am leaving. You can have a dessert if you want, you can even have the waitress with it as well, I don’t care.”

“Okay, see you later, then. I’ll try to have fun and enjoy, since you don’t know how to do so”

You furiously grab your handbag and run out the restaurant. You don’t stop running until you’re home. Your shaking hands and teary eyes had some trouble opening the door. You crumble against the stubborn closed door and cry yourself out. You can’t hold it. Long sobs, breathless coughs and heartbreaking screams. All this noise brought your neighbor, Sero, to check out what’s happening.

“(Y/N) ?! Are you hurt ? What happened ? What’s wrong ?”

You couldn’t tell him, your anxious cries preventing you from talking straightly. He assured himself that you’re not injured and helped you get in your bedroom. You can’t tell what he was doing around you, your cries slowly turning into a huge panic attack. Curled in your bed, you rock yourself back and forth, cutting yourself out from reality. You couldn’t hear Sero calling Denki and asking him to come home. You couldn’t hear your boyfriend freaking out when he heard you crying like that on phone. You couldn’t know that he was running towards home, feeling guilty and culpable, his sunshine having a mental breakdown because of him.

“Sunshine ? Sunshine! Look at me ! I am right there”

Denki’s voice find its way to your ears, to your mind, to your heart. You hold on to him like a lifeline, trying to calm down. He thanks Sero, who left, before joining you on bed. He breaths heavily for you to focus on his chest going up and down slowly. You imitate his breaths until you can think straight.

“Thank you, Denki… I am sorry, I-”

“I am the one who have to apologize. I acted like a piece shit back there. I am sorry, I didn’t know you were jealous. I shouldn’t act like this, I am sorry. You know, babe, that you’re the one and only. You know it, right ?”

“No… I don’t…”

“I don’t care about anyone else. You’re the one that I love. And if it makes you feel insecure, I’ll stop flirting like that, okay ? It hurts me to see you like this. I don’t want you to be hurt, you’re way too precious to me, babe.”

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Hey ! I don't have much to say... Hope you enjoyed it, and feel free to request anything else (angst is still okay but I don't handle it well so prepare yourself to be disappointed ^^')