#only the best eye melting textures for my child

[papple]

HIMMMM HIMMMMMMMMMMMM

[metranart]

My one and only wants you, so he’ll have you (Part 11)

ft. Sensei! Gojo Satoru, sensei! Suguru Geto, reader insert, slight! Megumi x reader.

Gojo Satoru and Suguru Geto happily married, you, their lovely student and the cause of their ragging temptation. The problem: their son, Megumi, your best friend.

𖦹 Warning tags: Gojo x Reader x Geto, threesome, married couple, Suguru and Gojo happy married couple, polyamory, Teacher-Student Relationship (everyone is an adult).

-

It was Suguru’s lips colliding with his that brought him out of that toxic trance, Suguru used his last weapon, the most lethal he had. Gojo melted against him, unable to hold that track of selfish thoughts, instead giving all his attention to his husband's lips, his hand ended up sliding from the knob and Geto smiled against his mouth, pecking those pouting lips a couple of times before smashing a hard kiss on his forehead and sending him a disapproving look. The white-haired man shrugged like a scolded child. He almost ruined it... almost.

“I’m not sure if we are there yet, Gumi…” You mewled timidly. But he needed to fight for his right to have you, Megumi was burning to be yours, literally burning, he could not think straight anymore, you were all he thought about nowadays, you and him, just that. 

You'd only been together for a two month, and you hadn't been intimate yet, maybe some fooling around, here and there, some make out and touching— you'd jerked him off and he'd fingered your pussy after a stressful mission but that was as far as you two had gone... you couldn't find it in you to end the transaction, not when you were terrified of confusing his name with one of his parents. Not when Gojo and Geto had given you an ultimatum. Not when even now they were likely listening in from the other side of the door, if you judged by the shadows you had seen under the door, discreet enough to go unnoticed by your distracted boyfriend who prioritized his attention on you, but undoubtedly blatantly indiscreet enough for you to know and strive to keep your promise.

Nor Gojo nor Geto had been happy about your new relationship with their son but when you explained Sukuna's sudden appearance and your inability to go any other way, they understood, reluctantly… but they understood.

"Not under our roof." Suguru had spat severely, "NEVER under our roof, (Y/N) ... or I'm not responsible for my actions." With that, he spined on his heels with more sharpness that it was necessary and walked away to smoke a cigarette in solitude. His silhouette, the clear posture of an annoyed, irritated and highly conflicted, man.

Leaving behind a very guilty sorceress and a very shaken husband. You sucked in a shaky breath and the lone tear that ebbed the corner of your eye was quickly whipped away before it could even roll down your cheek. 

"Oh, my sweet pup, don’t cry,” Gojo spelled sweetly, burying you in a bear hug “this is all my fault, I should never have—”

“Don’t!” you squealed, “don’t even think about it. I wanted to!... I still DO.”

You felt his lips press a kiss on the crown of your head, to then hear the sigh of relief. “Thank God,” he chuckled, “I feel lighter already. Thank you.”

You opted to stay inside his warmness, the silence was comfortable, nevertheless, was also brief.

“I know you didn't have a choice and the last thing I want is for you to hurt Megumi," Gojo wanted the best for his son, but also for himself. He wanted you so bad, it physically hurt him. His knuckles sliding down the softness of your cheek, slowly, so slowly, felt more like if he was sewing the texture of your skin to his brain. That blue, shiny gaze firm on yours. Searching your stare insistently. Stare that refused to meet his, out of embarrassment. 

"Look at me, (Y/N).” Gojo demanded in a calm tone which quickly grew sharp. “You owe me that much-"

"Y-You have no idea how hard this is for me as well!"

Your outburst was cancelled by his arm getting tighter around you, burying you deeper into his chest, your nose dug hard against his shirt to inhale his fragrance, smelling Gojo always calmed you down, it was one of his many gifts. He smelled safe, if that was even possible, everything about Gojo Satoru made you feel safe. You melted on him, and he smiled against your hair.

"You miss us?" It wasn’t a question, it sounded like one, but it wasn’t.

Your head nodded against his broad chest, and his hug tightened even more. Tight, so tight it should hurt but it didn’t. Gojo’s fingers began to make circles on your back. Massaging the tension away with tender motions, melting the anguish in you with his tireless compression.

"We miss you so damn much, that's why Suguru is so-" his eyes shifted to the aforementioned, who was already on his third cigarette, "-is so upset."

"With me?"

You felt how deep his sigh were, when his chest rose against your cheek.

"I'm afraid, he doesn't know how to be upset with Megumi, pretty. He adores him way too much-…So, you'll have to put up with his bad mood for a while," he laughed but not the merry sound you loved. Then, he kissed each request against your forehead, soft and warm kisses filled with tender pleading, "...please, please don't judge him for his behavior. Suguru isn't good at sharing-"

Your head whipped up to look at him, and he chuckled. "He's not good at sharing with anyone but me."

You giggled, returning to your original position. No! a little close, if that was possible. "Now what?" your lips asked, afraid of the answer.

"We’ll figure it out and while we do it..." Gojo felt conflicted, even so, there was one thing he already knew he wanted from you. Warm palms dug thick thumbs under the curve of your jaw to help him tilt your head up for some needed eye contact. Once your eyes met, Gojo’s understanding look faded away and his reverent grin turned icy "...don't let Megumi fuck you." All tenderness melted away, and he repeated, "... promise me, (Y/N), you won't sleep with him until we know how to handle this."

You promised.

"I'm afraid that's NOT enough." 

It startled you. Suguru Geto, standing behind you, he dropped the last of his cigarette to the ground and step on it, those onyx orbs he called eyes, black and devoid of any kind emotion, were kinda shocking but what shocked you the most was what ended up coming out of his mouth. 

"Let's do a binding bow-"

"Suguru—" 

Gojo started but was quickly stopped by his husband with hard squeeze to his shoulder, it carried a hidden message, something only Gojo could appreciate: ‘let me be the irrational for once’- Gojo fell silent. 

“I already promised to-”

Geto denying his head cut you short.

"It doesn't really make any difference-…but the binding bow, that will actually make you keep your promise."

"Don't you trust me anymore, Suguru?" It was easy to detect the touch of indignation in your voice. Abruptly, you pulled yourself out of Gojo's arms to stare at Suguru with a hint of defiance. "Don't you-"

"I'm not going to let Megumi get hurt, DAMN IT!" The special grade sorcerer bellowed, rushing to you until were face to face. “Over my death body,” he threatened, your mouth scrunched up, a complaint about to come out before being cut off by him. “No, it’s not what you think either,” Geto added, quickly. “I don’t plan on losing you either. You are not going anywhere…”

You had never seen him so visceral, so emotional. Gojo was the creature full of fragile feelings, not Suguru, but apparently you had gotten under his skin, deeper than he had even anticipated. 

“You are mine-...Ours,” he corrected and Gojo chuckled, shaking his head, amused “...if you and Megumi start getting intimate it will only complicate everything.” The raven-haired insisted, grabbing you by the wrist to pull you closer to him, “the binding bow will prevent this.”

“How? I don’t see how-”

“Just grant me this, (Y/N).” He pleaded, grabbing you by the forearms, desperate, crazed, "...I'm dying here, just grant me this, I trust you...but even though I love my Megumi more than my own life," now, you felt your cheeks being wrap in his warm, big hands, "I don't trust him, at least not with you. I know how he feels and after all, he is our son."

Suguru didn't have to explain any further, Gojo supported him, and you ended up, accepting. How right he was, how much Megumi resembled his adoptive parents. Because right now, he refused to accept a negative.

"Is that a, no? you don’t want us to—” he asked, a taciturn emotion kidnapping his features, and the hurt in his eyes made you feel sick to your stomach, you were weak for this entire family, to some more than other, even so, they all have a part of your heart.  

“I do-”

“You do?”

Megumi's eyes sparkled, filled with renewed hope and his parents felt a lump in their throats. Fushiguro climbed on top of you, slow and cat-like, you crawled back until your head hit the headboard of his bed and he laughed amused, excited, hands equally excited sliding down the length of your legs, you could almost hear him purr.

If there was one thing you loved about him, it was the difference that did exist between him and his parents. His shy essence was unbreakable, making him a tender and dedicated creature even in movements predestined to be abrupt. He accommodated you under him prioritizing your comfort over his own, he would have to put more tension on his body, but it was worth it if you were happy.

"Gumi-" you mewled, and he swallowed your next complaint with thirsty lips and slippery tongue. "Just let me show you, (Y/N)," you heard him mumble against your neck, "I know I can also make you happy."

Also?... you didn't dare to delve into that comment, it sounded too desperate, coming from a place deep inside Megumi, a secret and intimate place.

It was just a whisper, but it sounded like a scream to Gojo and Geto, like a bullet going through their selfish hearts, really, they wouldn't give this pleasure to Megumi? Were they really that self-absorbed? They both turned to look at each other and after a few seconds, you saw the shadow under the door disappear completely.

"Is something wrong?" the brunette asked when he noticed you distracted, and you shook your head. Yes, there was a problem, but it wasn't Megumi's problem.

“Nop, babe.” 

Megumi tugged you forward-or maybe he'd lunged toward you of his own accord, he loved when you tagged him as you ‘babe’—and just like that, you were kissing with the fervor and passion of touch-starved souls all pent-up repression and stress, released in a single instant. The force of the collision, lips on lips, tongue against tongue, was deliciously bruising, enough to knock the breath out of you. 

Megumi gasped your name, smearing each syllable in saliva and praises, overly excited, wondering if only him was feeling that cord of electricity running through his veins, fiery adrenaline coursing through his body, blood pounding in his ears as a shiver ran down his spine, so powerful that he thought he might collapse on top of you.

Each effort of Megumi making you let yourself go more, letting you mind fly free, maybe too free to your own good. Your hands tangled in his hair in an instant, pulling him even closer, even harder against your lips as your excitement soaked your panties.

“…. May I have a taste, (Y/N)?”

You had half a second to entertain the request of your boyfriend, before he asked again, just sweeter. 

“One lick or two,” those were the last words you thought you'd hear coming from Megumi, "I just want to put my mouth down there for a minute, please, my love-... may I?" 

His lips quickly came in aid to his goal, eating your neck in sloppy but awfully well-planned kisses, bites and licks, a joint effort to weaken your reason. It was slowly working. Pressing back with his tongue even as a moan began to well up in his chest, “P-Please?

You squealed, a sign of your upcoming defeat. He used that weakness to pull your bodies together for an instant of pressure that sent fireworks off all across your skin. A sensation that you had only experienced with Gojo and Geto, confusing your mind with sparks of recognition, men who were not there felt present in each caress that their son executed without fail.

You surrender to his wholehearted efforts, it was too much, too vivid. Megumi had shown his claws, and they were sharp, going deep, deeper than you ever expected. Sharp in need, tearing you apart like a ragged doll. Your lips parted and the affirmative he so craved was about to pour out-

Knock! Knock! Knock!

COMING SOON PART 12....

➡️ NSFW ARTWORK OF THIS STORY

[bitchlessdino]

joshua hard thots

cockwarming him after rounds of fucking because he can't get enough of feeling your pussy wrapped around his cock

Pairing: Bf!joshua x gn!reader

Genre: tender smut, drabble

Word count: 1.0k+

tags: established relationship, yearning, love, cockwarming, assumed unprotected sex

author note: this probably wasn't what you were looking for anon but i was in such a soft sexy mood I wrote this and have no regrets. this felt like therapy and i love writing again.

You thought there were better things to do than be in bed all day, but Joshua thought otherwise. These free days weren’t rare but definitely getting sparse, placing more significance on quality time, even indoors. The thought vanishes thin into the air when your boyfriend develops the mood physically, wasting no time–in his words anyway–and captures your naked body in his, dipping his hips into you to create friction that he knew drove you crazy.

He could never get sick of you moaning his name. It was like the butter to his perfectly toasted slice of bread, a simple symphony of goodness that in no way could be replicated.

The supple skin that you spent minutes of an hour moisturizing wouldn’t go to waste, tasting as sweet on his tongue as good as it smelled. He was in love with every texture and bump, ingraining into every wrinkle of his brain for keepsake. He could never have enough and he’d prove it too.

“Mmh, yeah…taking me like that…that good?”

There isn’t a moment in time his cock inside your core isn’t pure heaven pushing in and out of you. He’s careful not to hurt you, caressing your hips, and cushioning your posterior in his large hands, while he’s rearranging your insides and with only thoughts of what would please you more. The matter that his dick doing a swell job of ebbing every twitch to your hips only boosts up his ego a smidge, he claims, knowing damn well it was quite the understatement.

“Josh…squeeze me harder…fuck me deeper…”

He also likes how you knew the things to say, ordering him around, teaching him, gratifying him with the heightened volumes of your whines, your screams, his name on your tongue, again. It’d go on for hours–days if he could–and it’s never enough, but god did it feel good to try.

At this point, it’s in the middle of the afternoon and the only reason either one of you had gotten up was to go to the restroom or fetch snacks and water. Neither of you were hungry, thirsty, or felt the need for a different kind of release, so you stayed back together in bed. Joshua has made his point of being the man for you by having you climax in his presence countless times in countless methods and for countless hours. It was time for rest, you both concluded. For now.

You’d nuzzle into his bare chest, feeling the sweat radiate off his incredulously toned body, while his arms–bulging and rippled in from arm day for three times a week every week–shifts around your frame, tugging you close to him. His soft smile lets out a satisfied hum, puckered lips meeting your eyebrows. “You look so tired.”

“Whose fault is that?” you tease with your eyes.

His laughter reminds you of cotton candy, sweet and plush if ever materialized. It brought you back to how addicted you were to such a treat as a child. Now its been replaced with its personified self, Joshua Jisoo Hong. He melted in your mouth better than any confectioners sugar.

“I should feel guilty but,” he shrugs his shoulders to make a show of it, “I don’t. As long as you keep moaning my name or look at me with those eyes–”

You bubble up in laughter, “What eyes–”

“I’ll never stop. Love me the way you do and I’ll make every opportunity together a core memory.”

You light-heartedly scoff, your canine digging at your bottom lip when your eyes fixate on him, feeding into every word, every look, every breathing pattern. Your hand comes up to cup his face and you reach his lips, slowly but surely proving to him you’d do the same. While he was best with words, you were best with action, which proved the physicality of the situation more significant.

When you first met, he was brave enough to be honest in confessing he had little plans to be ‘active’ in a romantic relationship, a sign saying turn away now before you fall into an endless pit of a sexless relationship with no soft landing. He was proven otherwise with you, someone beyond pure imagination. You were a breathing fantasy to him. He was willing to give up everything for you.

Now in the present, his tongue dances against yours, your naked body clutching him, and finally his easily replenished cock tickling against your thigh. He pushed his hand up against your lower back into his torso and your warmth hovers on top of the head of the length, your moisture sliding against the sensitivity and you whine until Joshua feels it in his throat. “Put your dick in me…”

“You just admitted to being tired,” he lightly retorts, already twitching and heart bouncing at the thought.

“I’ll just…keep it warm…please, my love…”

You are sounds of bliss no matter what the words are, but in this case, he couldn’t imagine loving you anymore with the need in your rasp and the ache between your legs. 

“Alright,” he relinquishes, hands finding balls of your flesh and guiding you to hug his girth with your fluttering walls that knew no rest. His arms bring you closer–somehow possible–and knead into your skin, feeling the soothing touch on the tips of his digits until he’s plunging the trimmed nails until his DNA is a part of you. 

“Mmh, yes,” you mewl, returning your attention to admire his beautiful face, looking at you and only you.

You may have made the request but he was relieved to enjoy it, having already missed the contracting squeeze of your walls pulsating around his needy cock. He always feared that if he had a taste of the best vessel for his cock he would have, he’d refuse to let it go–now wishing, hoping, praying you’re never pried away from his hands.

You grind down to the base of his cock, his full-length home inside you and you share a groan, giggles following after when you lock eyes. Both of you were stupidly besotted with one another, even cherishing the sweet tenderness of languid movement of both your hips not on the journey for the climax, but rather appreciating each other wordlessly, as you’ve always done.

Arousal never leaves either of you while together, finding euphoria even in the smallest things such as doing laundry together or dishes together. The thought of a moment like this replays in both of your minds. Hardly sentences, hardly words, just how you fit like a puzzle, metaphorically and literally.

[druidwolf21]

Pack bonding

Leman introduces Zad to his wolves, much to sanguinius' distaste.

@jaghatai-khock @cardinalcanis @beckyninja

Another little short story about @jaghatai-khock best little baby boy.

Sorry it's so short! I got caught out by something and I HAD to get this out of my head before my brain melted

"This is freki" Tiny fists balled into thick fur, curling into the textured coat as Zad laughed. His crimson eyes squinted with glee as he ruffled the large canine.

Leman laughed as he held the child, supporting his light weight in one hand as he watched his nephew reveal in the new texture.

"one day, you will be big enough to ride a fenrisian mount, you will be a fine drengr!"

He spun the child in the air and set him on the back of the giant hound. The blonde babe slipped forward, burying his face into the wolf's coarse ruff as he babbled.

"feki feki feki"

"haha! Not quite little warrior, but there will be plenty of time to get that right, come let me show you the rest of the pack!"

Leman strode off towards the stables, his loyal companion padding silently behind him, one ear cocked back to listen to the child as he chattered nonsense and ecstatic noises. Giant paws slunk silently towards the timber building as a instinctive voice whispered into the wolf's mind.

"cub, pup, protect, pack, child"

6 months later

"Enough! stand down"

The 2 beasts stood snarling, saliva drooling from fanged maws as they defended the child stood behind them.

Zadkiel's eyes glittered with glee as he sat behind the wolves, his hands clapping in delight as the hulking mass of muscle and fur bristled at anyone who came too close. Including his own father.

Sanguinius pressed his fingers into his temples, massaging away the incoming migraine.

"am I seriously bargaining with dogs right now?"

His wings puffed in rage and frustration as he once again reached for his son, only to be met with a roar and snap of ivory fangs. His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the scene before him, tactics running through his mind as he tried to deescalate the situation.

His young son sat in a large pile of fallen leaves, hands and face matted with mud and debris as he ran his fingers through the colours of autumn. Reds, oranges and yellows casting warm light on his pale skin as he threw handfuls into the air, smiling as they cascaded around him, settling into his hair and pearly wings. Beside him had slept 2 gigantic fenrisian wolves, the kin of leman russ, assigned guard duty when the primark had to attend an urgent meeting.

"don't worry angel!" The wolf king had laughed. "No one will lay a finger on him!"

"got that right" sanguinius muttered under his breath.

The wolves had lurched to their feet, hackles raised and teeth bared as soon as the angel approached, his gentle coercion and increasing threats doing nothing to dissuade the canines from guarding their newest pack member.

"look I just want to get the muck off my son" he cooed gently, raising his hands up in a calming motion. "My son, my cub"

The beasts exchanged a glance, ears flicking in recognition before turning to look at their young lordling.

"no bath, ick" spat Zad, shaking his head so violently his gold locks bounced across his face. Scarlett eyes squinted in distaste as he poked out his tongue.

"yuck yuck yuck!"

The great angel groaned, throwing his hands up in defeat as the wolves turned back to him, stamping paws and swishing tails as they prowled forward, adamant of setting a protective barrier.

"what's the matter bird? Can't handle a little resistance?"

Sanguinius rolled his eyes as he turned, meeting the merry gaze of his brother as he strolled towards them, branches cracking like wet twigs as he swung his way through the undergrowth.

"Russ, this is entirely your fault, I expect you to rectify it" he hissed, running a hand through his own sunlight hair and wincing as his son threw more leaf litter into his own locks.

The wolf king laughed in response, a deep thrum bouncing through the trees as his large canines flashed in the dimming light.

"he's part of the pack now brother! Who am I to dissuade him from his important business" lemans grinned widened as his nephew found a wet patch of moss and began tearing it into confetti, green mulch splattering across his plush face.

"I swear to terra dog, if you don't sort this now"

The fenrisian waved the threat off, snorting as his normally composed sibling began to unravel at the mess the toddler was making.

"fine fine, I'll get him. But I'm not helping you get him into the bath"

He strode forward, snarling at his 4 legged companions as he did so, his own teeth bared in challenge to their own as he reached into the mulch to retrieve the giggle ball of undergrowth. The wolves reluctantly returned to their haunches, muscles vibrating as they carefully watched their prize lifting into the air under the care of toned arms instinct screaming to obey their alpha, but to protect the young one.

"fenkgerifenkigeri" Zad burbled, waving at his companions as he rose over their heads, laughing as their coarse tongues rasped wet kisses along his bare feet.

"there, easy as" grinned the warrior, cocking a rough grin across his face as he waved the kid in the air, much to Zad's delight and sanguinius' horror. "The little drengr was in serious talks with my brothers, I hope you know what you're doing"

He paced back to the enraged primark, pointedly ignoring his hissed breaths as he bounced the small cherub in his arms.

" little Stormurstjórn, we will be here when you return" he nodded, finally returning Zadkiel to the safety of his father's arms.

Before he could comment how "you were mad if you thought I'm leaving him with you again" Sanguinius' eyes widened in shock at the sudden tenderness in the spacewolf's voice.

Russ leant over, his normally icy glare replaced with a soft eyes and a gentle smile.

"we will always be right here"

[oflostinfound]

Cautiously, Charlie sniffs at the baby, smiling up at Hax. “She’s beautiful, Hax. You prob’ly couldn’t be prouder, huh?”

The dog sits down at their feet and smiles at the infant, his tail wagging gently. “Gee, I remember the last time I was this close to a baby… people usually ain’t too fond of dogs- especially strays- gettin’ too close to their little ones.”

He nods and comments softly, so as to not frighten the baby, “she’s gonna grow up ‘ta be an awesome person with you as her parent.”

@let-me-be-surprised :D

|| 💛 ||: ❝ You could say that. ❞

A warm smile as they breathe out the words, cradling their daughter in their arms as the canine sniffs her. Hax wasn't as familiar with Charlie as Eath was, but she'd assured them he was safe for their little one to see. That, and the fact that he could talk also helped.

|| 💛 ||: ❝ Parents are... pretty protective in general. I know I've been quicker to snap at someone if I think they're going to upset Taygete. ❞

The baby in question, of course, has never seen a dog before. All she knew is that he seemed just as fluffy as the goat and sheep people she had seen before, and she knew she liked that texture. Tiny hands reach to grab his snoot, though Hax does keep her securely in their arms so she can't just start tugging on the poor pup's face and fur.

|| 💛 ||: ❝ I hope so- ❞

They still had their worries about being a parent, about raising a child. But... it was like their friends had said, the moment they'd looked into their daughter's eyes their heart had melted. They felt so much joy in that moment that their worried had faded, even if only a bit, and they knew they'd do anything to protect her. To make sure she grew up happy, healthy, and safe.

|| 💛 ||: ❝ I'm going to do my best, at least. For her. ❞

@let-me-be-surprised

[abyssruler]

amor vincit mortem

pairing: zhongli x gn!reader

summary: there’s a fragility to each moment spent with you, finite and fleeting as all mortal lives are. but you always find your way back to him, even when you return missing fragments of yourself. he has loved you ever since he was naught but a mere hatchling you’d dug from the earth, and he will continue to do so through war and peace and retirement. (reincarnation au)

note: writing for one of my favorite tropes again, zhongli my beloved i will always give u happy endings, might be a bit inaccurate in some lore and timeline aspects but i tried my best to stick close, multiple character death/s (reader), depictions of blood and death

word count: 4.1k

“Hello again.”

Morax—back in the days when he was just a little dragon incapable of much thought, back when the name Morax hadn’t even been granted to him—nuzzled his little snout against your hand.

You smoothed your fingers over his soft scales, an indication of youth in dragons, and smiled as he melted at the simple affection.

There had been a softness to that moment, a memory untouched by the grimness of war, in a time when peace reigned and the three sisters ruled over the skies, not a floating celestial castle to be seen.

He remembers your voice and your touch, the way your eyes brightened when you smiled and the way the corners of your mouth quirked when telling a story. He didn’t know your name then, only that you were a local in the nearby village who once unburied a small dragon from the earth as a child and had taken care of it since.

That dragon was, of course, him.

✧

“Here for another meal, little dragon?”

You brought a small piece of meat to his snout, cooing when he took it from your fingers and delicately chewed on the meat.

He doesn’t remember what it tasted, only that it had a soft, chewy texture that made it easier to eat for his soft teeth that were still in the process of hardening as he aged.

A hand ran over the scales on his head.

“You’ll need a name, won’t you? Something to be remembered for all ages.” The sun had hit his eyes then, making him incapable of seeing what kind of expression you’d had. “I just know my little dragon will grow to be a fearsome one.”

✧

“Morax!” You laughed, running as the dragon that was now at the same height as your hips chased you across the clearing. “I told you, no more meat or else you’ll become overweight!”

It wasn’t about the meat, he remembers, it was how you always seemed to shine brightest when you were running about without a care for the world around you. He’d only wanted to keep that smile on your face.

You leaned on your knees, gasping for breath, and still, you shone as radiant as the sun to his eyes.

✧

You struggled with carting a box full of all sorts of fruit and cooked meat. He used his hardened snout to help you push the cart near the entrance of the cave he usually dwelled in.

“Thank you.” You softly patted the scales beneath his chin. “I’m not as young and spritely as I used to be.”

He huffed an indignant snort as if to disagree with you. A soft exhale left your mouth, fondness evident in the quirk of your lips.

“You understand me, don’t you? You always have, my smart little dragon.”

✧

He sat beside you, quiet and solemn as you hummed a tune beneath your breath.

“Morax,” you started, something different in the inflection of your voice. It never returned back to its normal cadence after you caught an illness that had lasted a year and nearly took your life. “I’m not long for this world—”

He shifted in protest, a snarl in his throat that you wave away with a wrinkled hand.

“Don’t be so upset,” you soothed, “It’s simply the way of life.”

You ran a hand through the underside of his chin, feeling the hardened scales that will continue to grow stronger until it can withstand the force of steel—or a meteor.

“You’ll live for a long, long time, and by the time you reach your prime, I will be nothing but a distant memory to you.”

He remembers disagreeing but never outright conveying it to you. He had thought you understood what his silence meant. If only he’d been able to speak back then, he would have spent hours upon hours telling you how much you meant to the little dragon you had dug up from the earth.

✧

You laid down for a nap beside him, still managing to look at him with those bright eyes of yours amidst a face weathered by time.

“My little Morax, you’re as big as a house now, aren’t you?” You had softly pet the side of his head as he curled around you. “Wake me up when the sun rises, okay? I want to hand feed you meat like I used to...”

He closed his eyes and let dreams sweep him away once he felt you fall into a deep sleep.

In the morning, he would awake to the sun casting light over him and the stillness by his side.

You never woke up again.

✧

He took to guarding your small village from petty thieves and the occasional mercenaries sent by neighboring villages. It’s what you would’ve wanted, he thought then. You had no family, but the elders and the children and the workers you’d made friends with were dear to you, and so, they were dear to him as well.

Word spread of a village being granted the protection of a mighty dragon. More people came asking for shelter and to settle in, he never showed protest to it.

Years passed, the village grew, and he continued to wonder what it would have been like to watch over these people with you by his side.

He remembers days spent lounging in the clearing he buried your body in, an era where peace still reigned and rest was not yet a luxury he couldn’t afford.

✧

You appeared on the second century after your passing, wide-eyed and mouth parted in awe as you stared at the large town that used to be your homely little village.

“Morax?”

He had thought it a dream then, a mirage his mind consumed. There was simply no fathomable way you were here in the flesh, alive and whole and young—so much younger than he remembered you being.

But your eyes were still the same, still as bright and resplendent as the sun. You were here. You were real.

He doesn’t know how he ever managed not to squish you beneath his weight back when he’d been young and excited with less restraint to his actions. It is a memory he remembers fondly, stored tightly within his chest, a moment of peace amidst the war looming on the horizon.

It was a comical sight, a human holding their arms out to their side yet still not managing to encompass the entirety of a dragon’s snout. He used to fit so snugly at the palm of your hand.

“Look how big you’ve grown.” You press your lips to a single scale, already as large as your head. “I have missed you, old friend.”

✧

It was a worry that niggled at the back of his head amidst questions of how you came back and why you remember him.

Morax, for all his years alive that would seem many to mortals, was still but a young dragon then. Even when he was roughly the size of five houses.

He didn’t want to see you grow old, to watch as time eroded your spirit and left nothing but a husk of what you once were. The thought of having to relive those days when you could barely stand up to meet him at the clearing outside your village made him want to curl up and burrow deep into the earth.

He didn’t want to sleep beside you only to awake to the sight of your chest still and your breaths nonexistent.

He didn’t want to watch you die again.

✧

The choice was taken out of his hands when he returned to his town—your town, just as much as it is his—and found it burning.

“There’s a nearby village that needs your help. Go, Morax, lend your hand to those who need it,” you had told him as you caressed his scales, and he had obeyed, because while the elders and the people come to him with their pleas and their wishes, he will only ever answer to you.

It had been a trick to place his attention away from your town.

He learned what anger meant that day, learned what it felt to crush a house beneath his claws and how to move the earth to his will and what it meant to take a life.

He was young and furious and mourning. It is a dark memory he doesn’t like to dwell on, full of pain and regret and the vicious sense of satisfaction that came with killing. It was the first time he had ever shed blood. It wouldn’t be the last.

As he watched the village be buried beneath the earth and the stone he’d called upon, he turned his back and made the long trek back to a home that was now nothing but ash and dust.

And as he rooted through the rubble in the vain hope of finding your body to bury, Morax learned what it meant to be an unwilling participant in a war.

✧

It was as if fate was paying back the abundance of time you’d spent with him in your first life with short moments that were always cut too soon.

In your third life, you found him sleeping on the remains of what was once your town. You had wept and embraced him as much as you could, and he, in turn, tried to convey how much he had missed you.

The two of you traveled together for a while, and that life was where you rode on his back for the first time as he soared the skies.

“They’re like your eyes,” you once said, holding onto his scales as he flew above the clouds, the light of the setting sun casting the two of you in molten gold, “Golden. It’s been my favorite color ever since I first saw you open your eyes. They always shine so bright.”

You died that same day, having encountered a vengeful deity after he set foot on the ground. He had won that fight, but he wasn’t able to protect you.

✧

It was in a battlefield that he saw you again.

He remembers how the small deity’s blood had felt upon his tongue, dripping down sharp teeth and soaking the battle happening in the ground below with blood. It had been sunny then, he remembers, when he descended from the skies in triumph and looked down the masses gazing at him with fear.

And then there was you.

Blood and dirt and other unnamable things clung to you like a second skin as you clumsily held a spear close to your chest, but you had beamed at the sight of him and yelled out his name.

“Morax!”

It was short-lived.

It had been a stray arrow, they would later plead with tears and mud streaking through their terror-filled faces. But all he cared about at that time was that one moment you dropped your spear to run to him, and the next you were falling to the ground, an arrow lodged right where your heart lay.

He left that field bloodied with corpses, your body strewn on his back as he flew to the clearing in your first life. There, he buried you beside your other incarnations.

✧

“I’d like to settle one day, once all the fighting and killing has stopped. Maybe in a house overlooking the sea. Somewhere surrounded by mountains. Just a place where there’d be lots of space for you too.”

You leaned against the bulk of his frame, burrowed in a cliffside to wait out the fight between two gods happening on the other side of the lake.

✧

“That was never there before,” you said, squinting at the castle in the sky as you laid on his back.

He rumbled his agreement.

You sighed, hearing the war going on below and wondering when it was all going to end.

“The stars don’t shine as bright as they used to.”

✧

“Are you alright?!” You yelled as you frantically helped the woman—a deity—up from the ground.

Morax’s thundering roars echoed in the air as he summoned pillars from the earth and shattered the feeble ice that the opposing god put up.

The woman stared at you with wide eyes, noticing how labored your breathing was but otherwise looking unbothered by the fight happening in front of you.

“Are you not worried…?” She asked, her voice sounding as delicate as she looked.

You turned to her with a grin you’d hoped was encouraging. “There’s nothing to fear, Morax is strong!” Then, you offered her your hand. “Here, you can hold my hand if you’re afraid.”

She accepted it, feeling the tremors in her fingers calm at the warmth emanating from your palm.

“Guizhong,” she suddenly said, looking up at you, her heart racing. “Forgive my rudeness but… my name is Guizhong.”

You smiled, as bright and lovely as Morax would have described had he been there to see it. “Allow us to lend you and your people a hand, Guizhong!”

And for the first time since the war began, she felt hope blossom in her chest.

✧

“Which life is this now?” Guizhong asked him.

“Nineteenth,” he answered, more of a growl that resembled a word. Morax, in his newly obtained form, was still not used to the ways of mortals, namely, the fact that he can now speak his thoughts out loud.

You were conversing with Cloud Retainer, something regarding a weapon that could be used to help the war. The mechanics were lost to him. For all that he could now be considered a deity, for all that the people have started calling him Rex Lapis, he was still so oblivious to the ways of the world.

Guizhong placed a hand on his shoulder, a reassuring smile on her deceptively gentle face. On that day, she promised to help him protect you.

And that life was one of the few where he got to watch you grow old.

✧

“You don’t know how to read?” Guizhong asked you, surprise coloring her face.

You sheepishly laughed, “I’ve never been taught in all the lives I’ve lived. And most of my time with Morax was spent fighting and running from the war.”

You looked down your hands, feeling the smooth, unblemished skin of them. Young and unscarred. There had been a large gash that ran across your back in your previous life, and when the night got too cold and you were left alone with your thoughts, you felt the ache of thousands upon thousands of wounds you’d collected throughout your lives.

A dainty hand covered your own. You looked up to see Guizhong watching you with a fond smile.

“Let me teach you, then.”

✧

Guizhong always invited you to sing to the glaze lilies scattered around the Assembly. She claimed your voice was like a melody that soothed the flowers to bloom.

In truth, she only wanted to hear you sing.

✧

“No, that’s not how you hold chopsticks, Morax!” You laughed, taking hold of his hand and rearranging the chopsticks haphazardly held in his fingers. “There, much better.”

His fingers remained clumsy, unused to such sensations, but you promised him that he’ll get used to it in no time.

✧

You slowly guided him through each step, gently correcting a mistake in his footwork and adjusting the spear in his hand when needed.

Morax was a fast learner.

Soon, he would develop his own way of wielding the spear, but for now, you coached him through the right techniques and laughed whenever he dropped the spear in a spin.

✧

“The moon,” he suddenly said, looking at you with wide, earnest eyes.

“Yes, what about it?”

He seemed to struggle with finding the right words to convey what he wanted to say. You patiently sat and waited for him to gather himself.

“It’s beautiful tonight.” Then, as an afterthought, he added, “Isn’t it?”

You tilted your head to the sky, a nostalgic smile on your lips, lost in memories of days spent lazing about in that old clearing and staring at the starry sky. “It is.”

His hand felt warm around yours.

✧

“I don’t want to die anymore.”

He held you as your blood seeped from your clothes and painted the grass a dark shade of red. It was a slow process, bleeding out, to wait for your blood to drain until your heart stopped beating and your eyes lost the light in them.

“Morax.”

You were crying, clutching your side where a god had pierced their blade clean through. You were dying so slowly, yet there was no time to get a healer.

“Please.”

Your eyes begged for an end to this pain.

His tears fell and mixed with your blood.

On your twenty-ninth life, he cradled your head to his chest and wept as he gave you a quick, painless death.

✧

When he saw you again, he held you until the sun disappeared and his arms felt numb before reluctantly pulling away.

You held his face between the palm of your hands and kissed his forehead, your eyes red and smile brittle at the edges.

“I’ve missed you,” was all you said before you leaned close.

Your lips felt impossibly soft against his.

✧

“Morax,” you whispered against his skin, on your thirty-first life when he finally found the courage to show you what being loved by him meant. “I love you.”

It was the first time you spoke those words to him.

It wouldn’t be the last.

He kept you awake all night, ignoring the war happening around him and pretending, just for a moment, that the world only consisted of you and him.

✧

During your forty-second life, an anomaly happened.

He and the rest of the adepti were unable to gauge how it happened. Guizhong, for all her smarts, was not able to discern the reason for it either.

And then there was no time to ponder upon it anymore, because Osial attacks the Guili Assembly, and not only does he lose you, he also loses a friend.

Her last words to him consisted of a riddle and a memento in the form of a lock. “I never stopped searching for a reason. I think… this may be it.”

And in her eyes, he saw a confession — she had loved you too.

Thousands of years later and he is still no closer to opening it, and thus, no closer to figuring out what caused the loss of your memories.

✧

On some lives, you remember, eyes lighting up with recognition as you abandoned everything you’d been doing to run into his arms.

“Morax,” you would whisper as he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck.

On some lives, you would pass by him with blank eyes, the same lilt to your voice but without the fondness that came with it.

“Hello again,” he’d say.

You would smile awkwardly. “Hello?”

And he would mourn you all over again.

✧

“He’s suffered enough, hasn’t he?”

Your words were enough to still Morax’s spear.

You knelt in front of the young-looking deity, offering your palm to him. “We will not shackle you, and neither will we force you to serve.”

His eyes were wary, yet so incredibly full of disbelief and hidden hope.

You gave him a smile you hoped was as gentle as it seemed.

Rough, battle-hardened hands clasped onto yours like a salvation.

“Please,” he whispered, something so undeniably broken in his tone as looked up at you the same way one might look up at the stars.

Later on, Morax would name that young deity Xiao.

✧

There were tales and poems written about you. Rex Lapis and his undying lover.

It was widely romanticized and highly inaccurate. For one, he didn’t meet you in your first life as a large and intimidating dragon. He was naught but a hatchling you used to feed fruits and meat with a childish laugh. The two of you had grown up together, but where you had grown old, he remained young, a dragon who hadn’t even reached a fourth of his lifespan.

You always laughed as you read to him some of the more outlandish ones, in those lives where you remembered enough to love him as deeply as you used to.

“‘And they fornicated upon the moonlit night, a dragon and a mortal—’ I’m sorry, I can’t take this seriously.” You burst into a fit of giggles, leaning against him on your shared bed as the book you’d been holding fell to the side, forgotten.

“Shall I have a word with the authors of such books?”

“No, no!” You were quick to refuse, placing both palms on his cheeks and grinning. “They’re amusing to read. Perhaps I should commission a play, that would be so entertaining…”

He gazed at you fondly, cherishing each precious, limited time the two of you have.

✧

When he ascended the throne of Celestia, you were the first person to greet him upon returning to Liyue.

There was a nervous edge to your smile, but still, it came as naturally as breathing to you. You often questioned it, how everything just seemed to come easily for you.

“I think I know you,” you once told him a week after you met in this life, “I just can’t remember where.”

And you would always come across the numerous retellings of your lives, hands shaking and so full of regret and grief for a life you could never quite recall.

You never failed to apologize to him after.

I’m sorry I forgot.

I’m sorry I can’t remember.

I’m sorry I don’t love you.

✧

It became increasingly frequent with each century that passed. Only one incarnation of you every six lives remembered your past.

He made you love him in each one. Even if he had to start from the bottom, even when you looked at him without a spark of familiarity, even when it hurt—he never failed to capture your heart again and again.

✧

The Cataclysm happened in a lifetime where you remembered.

Morax, to this day, wishes it hadn’t been the case. Perhaps then, you wouldn’t have insisted on fighting alongside him.

Perhaps then, you wouldn’t have died so early.

Your body was left beneath the rubble and ruins of Khaenri’ah’s Royal Palace. The only thing that stopped him from upturning it to search for you was the Sustainer of Heavenly Principles.

✧

In the twentieth year after the destruction of Khaenri’ah, he made a contract with a golden haired traveler who carried the aura of the stars.

Five years after the contract was signed, your body was returned to Liyue in a casket covered with Inteyvat flowers.

✧

He remembers waiting, and waiting, and waiting a little more until he looked up and realized that four hundred years had passed without you.

He searched each nation, visiting village upon village, hoping to hear news of you or a past life of yours having lived there, but there was nothing.

It was as if you had simply ceased to exist.

He refused to believe it.

✧

Mountain Shaper advised him to rest.

It was strange to walk the streets of Liyue again after a hundred years of absence. He never failed to appear during the Rite of Descension, but taking on his draconic form and parading as a mortal man were two different things. And the latter, he found in all the years he’d been ruling Liyue, was much more preferable than the former.

Conversations flowed around him, and he wondered what you would have been doing had you been here with him.

He stared into the Harbor, smiling as he remembered your quiet musings during the early days of the Archon War.

I’d like to settle one day, once all the fighting and killing has stopped. Maybe in a house overlooking the sea. Somewhere surrounded by mountains. Just a place where there’d be lots of space for you too.

Settle.

It was a wishful thought, but…

He turned on his heel, mind made up.

If he couldn’t look for you, then he would have to wait for you to come to him. In the meantime, he would arrange the finest house for you to live in peace after five hundred years of being apart and a lifetime of war and bloodshed.

✧

Morax—Zhongli sits at a table at Third-Round Knockout, leisurely sipping tea as he listens to the story teller regale the tragic tale of your second life. A little inaccurate, on a few accounts, but for the most part, it was as he remembers it.

The tea tastes exceptionally sweet today. A good omen, perhaps.

He feels the vibrations from the ground, telling of a person approaching him from behind. He lets whoever it is get close, unable to detect any malicious intent.

“That’s completely false. I, for one, never ‘wept in delight as I was reunited with my dragon lover’.”

He nearly drops his tea in shock.

He turns his head to the right, his heart in his throat as he hopes and begs that his ears did not deceive him. He sucks in a breath—

And meets the loveliest pair of eyes gazing down at him with mirth.

You smile.

“Hello again.”

[khaotic-kitsunes]

Hiya! So while I'm late to the party i saw that you were looking for some dragon requests

Is it possible to request alpha dragon dabi x omega human reader ? If passable?

Maybe reader stumbled upon him when he was younger and they quickly become friends and maybe once they got older dabi offers to be her alpha ?

If you dont like the idea feel free to ignore this request ! Thank you !!!

Thank you so much for the ask, I loved writing it! Enjoy!

~Ki

You snuggled into Dabi's side, simply watching the clouds above you. It was one of your favorite past times with the dragon.

It was strange to think about it, but he was your best friend. You'd met when you were children, which seemed so far away now, and yet it still sometimes felt like you'd only met yesterday.

You were maybe seven or eight, and you were playing ball with some of your friends from the village. The ball rolled off into the forest, which didn't hold the implications then as it does now.

Dabi had only just claimed the territory, and hadn't really warned off the humans yet. So to a naive human child, you saw nothing wrong with wandering into the forest to find it.

Find it, you did, but you also got yourself lost, and rather than staying put, like your parents had warned you to do, you wandered deeper and deeper into the forest, until lo and behold, you happened upon the dragon.

He had only just left his own home, and was about the same age as you. He warned you with a flame, but didn't know how to handle you when you started crying instead of running. In the end, he carried you back to the village.

Of course, you weren't always the smartest of people, and rather than avoiding the forest, like a normal child, the very next day you went into the tall tall trees on your own, strutting through the forest, hoping to stumble into the dragon again.

"What're you thinking about?" Dabi grumbled, noticing your goofy expression.

"Oh, just how we became friends." You said. Dabi went silent, his tail flicking once. He looked down at your form, how positively beautiful you had become. He'd been meaning to talk to you about something, for a year now. But everytime the thought crossed it, his mind began to wander.

What if you didn't want to? What if you left him? What if you never came back, after he asked?

This time. He told himself. He shifted down into his human form... His entire human form.

"Oof." You slumped to the ground beneath you, without Dabi's dragon form to support you. You sat up, looking at him, in confusion, but your eyes widened when you saw the complete lack of draconic features. His entirely human form. "Dabi?" You asked, cautiously, "Are you alright?" He hated looking like a human, and you've only seen him take this form once. His scars stood out more, that way... Even when he wanted to be smaller, which was the rare moment, he always opted to remain as similar to a dragon as possible.

"I figured..." He paused, eyes looking at you with such an intensity you were taken aback, "I figured you'd be more comfortable with me asking this of you, if I looked even... even a little more normal."

He was soon towering over you, so tall even in his human form. He cupped your cheek in his palm.

"(Y/N), you said you were thinking of how we became friends..." He said, gravelly voice softer than usual. It was worrying you. What was wrong? "Well, I'm not satisfied with friends anymore."

Your throat went dry. He didn't want to be friends anymore?

Dabi could clearly see the hurt and concern written on your face, and realized that he'd been misunderstood. He moved his hand to push a stray lock of hair behind your ear, "I want more, (Y/N)." He said, shifting closer to you.

The concern was quickly overwritten with confusion... But he wasn't being rejected yet, so despite his hesitations, he allowed himself to keep going. He swallowed his fears, leaning down, until his lips were mere moments away from yours.

Your breath hitched, as your mind finally came to an understanding of what Dabi was telling you. Your eyes flickered to his lips. Their dual color captivating your gaze, the imagination of the contrasting textures haunting your mind.

Dabi took it as a sign to continue, and pressed his lips against yours... Your skin was so soft. He held you close to him, not daring to break away and see your face turn to disgust.

You melted into Dabi's touch, not at all minding the grip he had on your face, holding you to him. You hadn't let yourself think of it, really. Dragons were famous for kidnapping princesses as beautiful as their hoards, not random peasant girls. Dabi had a glittering collection in the back of his cave. It hadn't even crossed your mind that he'd have found you worthy of taking for himself.

Dabi would've scolded you, if he could hear that- you were more beautiful, more perfect than any gemstone he'd stolen. To him, you were the most precious in the world.

Once you finally had to break away for air, Dabi didn't dare open his eyes. He couldn't bear the sight he'd imagined.

You saw the anxiety, and wrapped your arms around his waist, taking comfort in his warmth. Dabi immediately reciprocated, his fears finally beginning to fade.

"(Y/N)," He whispered into your hair, "Be my mate..."

Those words were all it took. Your acceptance of it only added more fuel to the fire. Dabi pulled you into his arms, marching you straight back to his cave, fully intending to make good on his request. He'd changed his form to that of a human for your sake, but he could no longer contain his instincts. He wanted to; needed to keep you safe in the nest he'd built for you, and he needed to have you as close to him as physically possible.

Dabi kissed you again, his hands roaming, even as he lifted you into the pile of furs, which were so soft to the touch you could hardly believe it.

“Dabi-” You breathed against him, he merely hummed, his mouth travelling down from your lips, towards your neck, nibbling softly, though not in any rush to mark you. Not yet.

Whether Dabi contained his instincts or not, he still wanted to move slowly. He didn’t want to scare you away. He knew that once he got going, there was no stopping him, so he needed to make sure you’d accepted him fully before that happened.

His fingers caught on the fabric of your clothes, dragon strength making quick work of them, even in a human form.

You felt goosebumps rise on your skin, as you were suddenly exposed to the cool air and the hungry eyes of the beast above you.

Beast. The word never seemed to quite fit your draconic friend, who was rough but soft and so gentle. You’d never believed him capable of such a feral look in those eyes. Those striking blue eyes- the same hue as his flames, in any form he took.

But the title of a beast seemed to fit him now, and you couldn’t really explain the movement of his fingers against your skin or any other aspect of him in any other way, at the moment. You were far too entranced.

Not one to be discouraged, Dabi moved further down, laying a line of kisses down your neck, towards the valley between your breasts.

You gasped, slightly, though didn’t pull away. Dabi smirked into your skin, his hands moving up your sides, to each cup your breasts, and began to play with the nubs that had gone stiff with the cold.

His hands were warm, almost too warm, and yet so wonderful. He knew exactly what to do, and where to do it, using the fire that lay just beneath his skin to his advantage.

Dabi moved further down, to your belly button, before licking a stripe from it back up to your chest.

“Y-you’re teasing me.” You gasped, feeling a heat akin to Dabi’s fire and yet so different in nature, begin to build in your core. Dabi smirked.

Teasing was only natural to him. Even as his new mate, you were his best friend, first. He owed it to you and to himself to tease you a little. He moved up to your face, kissing the sides of your lips, and then nibbling on your earlobe a bit.

“Only for you, dolly.” He whispered, his voice husky and warm. He sat up, his hands leaving you- making you feel suddenly cold and exposed, and tore the top he’d fabricated for his human form from his body.

Your hands moved up to wander his chest, lightly, ever so lightly tracing the scars that crossed his body.

Dabi shivered at the touch. How he’d longed for you to gently praise him, to look in wonder and curiosity rather than fear, at his scars. Now that he’d finally gotten what he’d only had in dreams that were always far too brief, he couldn’t help himself.

He leaned back down to you, his hands brushing against your hips, moving down to your thighs, his lips returning to yours.

The kiss was deeper, his tongue quickly finding your lips and breaching them to explore your mouth. He moved closer to you, his hips automatically moving to find yours, creating only enough friction to make being apart an agonizing experience.

When he broke the kiss, his lips returned to your neck, and he began to suck and nibble. You practically purred beneath him, putty in his hands.

“Mine.” He growled, gutturally, into the skin of your neck, before his instincts became too impatient.

The feeling of teeth sinking into your skin, hurt so much, it was like fire, and yet something in it felt so unbelievably amazing you could hardly believe it.

Dabi let himself sink into your neck, only to remember you were human. Fragile and incapable of handling his full strength. He let up, giving the mark kitten licks. With this you were officially his.

His mate. You’d never be far from his side again, and with Spring just around the corner, there wasn’t a better time to have finally worked up his courage.

He lifted himself from your body, pushing you down with one hand, while removing himself from the confines of the remainder of his clothes with his other. His mouth was still at the mark, too entranced with the deep red blood and sickly sweet scent of iron slipping over the reddening flesh around it.

You felt something begin to poke at your bared underside, and a gasp left your mouth, but some quick movement from Dabi’s hands against your folds quickly turned a single gasp into many and many gasps into moans of pleasure.

“Dabi-” You whined.

“I know, Princess.” He said, his head moving down again, “I need to prepare you, first…” He said, settling his hands on your thighs pushing them apart for him, and settling his head between your legs.

You moaned, as you felt his tongue begin to tease you, working you slowly open.

The slick appendage made quick work of your body, causing you to twitch and spasm, and it only became worse as he added long, slender, skilled fingers.

You were screaming his name as you came for the first time. Dabi hummed, not letting you go, pulling you back when you squirmed away and holding your legs open when you tried to push them together.

The overstimulation hit far too quickly. Dabi wasn’t going easy on you, and when he still hadn’t let up after your second spasm on his tongue and fingers, you knew he wouldn’t stop anytime soon, either.

Finally, Dabi released you. You reached for him, seeking comfort. He growled, holding you close, cooing at you.

“You’re doing so good for me, Angel.” He said, the pet names spilling from his mouth, though he’d hardly used half of them for you before.

He brushed your hair from your face. “So beautiful. So perfect.” He praised, making you buck up into him. Dabi smirked, reaching his hand down, pushing you into the furs.

You were human, you couldn’t handle everything a dragon could. That didn’t stop Dabi.

Even as you writhed when the two heads bumped against your folds, Dabi only cooed at you, how well you were doing, how good and perfect you were, how easily he knew you could take him.

Easy would’ve been nice, for certain… The painful stretch of not one but two oversized dicks weren’t easy in the slightest. But Dabi knew how to turn pain into pleasure in the most sinful of ways.

You were just lucky it wasn’t spring yet, and he had enough control to give your poor body a rest after the first round.

Drifting away in Dabi’s arms, you felt exhausted but safer than you ever felt before. You were warm and loved and there was nothing better than it. Dabi thanked his lucky stars that it was you he had fallen for. And that it was him you’d agreed to be with.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Can I ask something like: reader being engaged to someone of the Zen'in clan (not willingly) and discovering that she is pregnant with Getou's child, which she's having a secret relationship. So this would lead to a huge conflict. Feel free to add smut or change anything if you don't feel confortable writing it! Thanks for your work. Lots of love <3<3<3

SOLD TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER (who happens to be me)

Arrangements: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.9k

tw: nsfw, angst, mentions of abuse

The priceless china teacup - the only one of its kind in the set of four - drops from your hand and to the dining room floor, where it shatters into a million pieces.

"No."

Your father looks at you with concern, as if you had just spoken some foreign language.

"No," you repeat, this time with much more emphasis. Didn't he understand the meaning of the word? Or was "no" not a part of his vocabulary?

"Unfortunately, you don't have a choice, y/n. You and Naoya have been paired together since birth, and it's now time for you to--"

"I said no!" You stand from the table and walk past your father to exit the dining room, pushing the door open with fury. As you stalk away from the arranged marriage to a Zen'in and your father, you feel tears well up in your eyes.

You scrub them away as you push past your bodyguard and into your room, where you lock the door. But the tears come faster than you expect, and you can't help but weep. It isn't until the sun goes down that you stand from your seated position and move to your desk, where the picture of you and your best friend sits, his black eyes glaring at the camera as you pinch his cheeks, smiling at him with glee. You were only five then, but if you knew then what would happen to you fifteen years later, you would have begged to run away with him much sooner.

The 'plink' of a pebble smashing into your window calls you out of your daydream, and you place the picture back down before moving to open your windowpane.

"You really could just knock," you advise Suguru Geto, who stands at your window with a silly grin on his face. "It'd be a lot less annoying."

"But what's the fun in that?" he wonders, climbing inside easily. "Plus, it gives me an excuse to find pebbles around the grounds. You know how I like rocks." You roll your eyes as he leans in, placing a deep kiss on your lips and wrapping his arms around your waist. "Mmm," Suguru hums. "You've been crying. What's new?"

"Nothing," you lie, but he tilts your chin up, examining your face.

"Looks like you've been crying for a while... Did your father say something to you at tea time?" You hold in a sob, lips quivering. "Perhaps a spat over something he sees as trivial, per usual?"

"Stop," you beg, pushing his hand away. "I don't want to talk about it."

Suguru steps back, rifling around in his pockets for something. When he produces the black stone, he hands it to you, letting your fingers drift over the polished texture as you consider opening up to the only man you love. "Here's one of my worry stones. You can rub at it and it'll take the negative feelings away."

You hold it in your hand, making a note to save it with the other pretty things Suguru has given you over the years in the box under your bed. You sit on your bed and he follows suit, laying beside you and sighing.

"Have you ever thought about running away?" you wonder, and Geto bites his lower lip thoughtfully.

"Sometimes. But then I remember that I can't run away from all of my problems, and I'd be leaving you behind."

"Maybe we should run away together." At your proposal, Geto puts his hands underneath his head, staring at the spinning fan.

"I can't condone that. You'd be running away from your problems, y/n."

"And? What does it matter if I only have you? Is that enough?"

"It matters a lot," Suguru mumbles, and you sigh. "I can't ask you to give up your life for one of hardship. I've been working on saving a bit of money, though. When I get enough, I'll buy a ring, come to your dad, and ask him for permission to marry you. Just wait a little while."

"We don't have a little while," you blurt, and he frowns. "My father wants to marry me off to some Zen'in, and--"

"What?" Suguru sits up, black hair falling down his back. "Say that again."

"My father wants to marry me off to some Zen'in," you repeat, and Suguru's eyes widen immensely before squinting.

"No, no, no... that can't be right," he breathes, and you shake your head.

"That's why I've been crying." Shock gives way to a blank look and he stands, running a hand through his hair.

"I have to go."

"Wait!" you cry out, but Suguru is out of your window in a flash, walking across your lawn without turning back.

_____________________________________________________________

The look Naoya Zen'in gives you is revolting.

When he strides into the room, your insides melt to nothingness and apprehension takes over. He circles you like prey, smiling at your shape and making lewd comments about your child-rearing abilities.

"Looks like you have a set of hips that are perfect for---"

"Naoya," your father chides, and the man slides his eyes to your father's face.

"Right, well..." the man clears his throat. "I would like to see what she's like by herself if you don't mind." Your father gives you a look that says 'behave' and you plead with him in your head to remain in the room. But he leaves you two alone, and that's when Naoya's face drops its smirk.

"Alright, let's be frank with each other." He leans forward on the table between you, lacing his fingers together. "I'm not in the business of making you feel good about yourself. You have to do that on your own. I'm going to tell you what I need when I need it. If you can't provide it, then you should seriously consider emptying that little head of yours of the idea that I won't remind you of your place."

You recoil at his words, lips curling up in disgust.

"And don't even think about replying with some smart-ass remark. I'm not the Chief of Hei for nothing." Bile rises up in your mouth at the thought of this swine being your betrothed, but you force it down, swallowing hard.

"I understand."

"Good. Now, let me see you turn around and walk out. I want to watch your hips as you walk away."

_____________________________________________________________

You rush into your bathroom and lean over the toilet, all of your consumed food coming back up. You vomit until nothing is left in your stomach, and dry heave for the rest of the time you're perched at the toilet bowl.

When it's all said and done, you wipe your mouth and flush, face redder than it was before you started feeling ill.

'Plink'.

Your head swivels to the window, and you rush to open it, coming face-to-face with Suguru.

"Babe..." he whispers, face flushed. "I brought you something." When he comes inside and sits on your bed, you consider telling him about the encounter with Naoya, but when he opens a small box, you're stopped in your tracks.

"Su!" You eye the small moonstone ring with curiosity, a smile creeping across your face. "Su, this is gorgeous."

"Solid rose gold and moonstone; your favorite." You slide the ring onto your ring finger and hold it up to the light.

"I love it... I love you." Suguru stands and brings you close to him, holding onto your head carefully.

"I'm going to take it to your father right now and--"

"I really wouldn't recommend you do that," a voice calls out from your doorway and both of you pull apart, startled by Naoya's sudden presence. "I had a feeling you'd be otherwise occupied." Naoya closes the door as he enters, smirking. "I should tell Mr. L/N myself that I've discovered this little tryst, but I think I'll let this poor man off the hook just this once." He turns to Suguru and gives him a deadly glare, crossing the space between them. "Leave. Don't come back here. I don't care how you feel or what you've done. But she's my property now, and no one other than me touches my things." Geto bristles at the threat, eye twitching.

"Make me, you piece of dogshit."

It's apparent that Naoya isn't quick to anger, but his fists clench in defiance. "I see," he breathes, letting go of his fists and running a hair through his light-colored hair. "You'll regret those words." And he leaves you two in the room, closing the door behind him carefully.

_____________________________________________________________

You stare at the little bump protruding from your belly in disbelief, fingers quivering over the skin. You try to recall the last time you and Suguru had unprotected sex and realize it was over a month ago, right before Naoya had appeared in your life.

The heavy onyx ring sits on your finger, reminding you of your engagement and the despicable man who had chased your lover away on that dreadful night.

Footsteps approach your room, and you quickly dress in your loose-fitting cotton shift dress, concealing any signs of pregnancy. Naoya throws open your doors and strides in, eyes looking about the room. "I have a little surprise for you, doll," he smiles, holding his hand out for you to take. Without hesitation, you grip it, knowing any delay could mean a swift backhand or a bruised wrist. "You'll enjoy this. I think I'll consider it my wedding present to you."

Naoya half-drags, half-walks you to the courtyard, where many of the townspeople have gathered, their faces somber and uneasy.

And chained to a post at the front is Suguru, his shirt torn and scrapes dragging across his skin.

"Just in time," Naoya chirps, pushing through the crowd and making you stand at the front, where Suguru could see you. His eyes widen, and he mouths something to you, but you shake your head, hands trembling.

"This man has been accused of stealing from the town's jeweler," Naoya calls out, circling around Suguru carefully. "And in his possession, we found a valuable piece of evidence." The accuser holds up a moonstone ring - your moonstone ring - showing it to the crowd proudly. "The punishment for theft is usually loss of a hand. But I feel that he should be delivered a much less barbaric punishment." Your heart leaps out of your chest, and you bite your tongue to keep from crying out.

Nothing Naoya would do would be less than barbaric.

"Fifty lashes are appropriate for the crime," he announces, and a man comes out of the crowd with a whip, standing behind Suguru with authority. Your eyes sting with tears, and you try your best to hold in a scream when the first lash lands across Suguru's back.

His black eyes are trained on you for the first fifteen strikes, but when the sixteenth lash rings out in the crowd, they begin to roll back, and he cries out in pain, voice echoing across the courtyard. Naoya sidles up beside you, gripping your wrist.

"See what happens when you sleep around with thieves?" he hisses, and you begin to weep, your vision blurring with tears. He chuckles and you hide your face behind your hands, sobbing furiously.

By the fortieth lash, you're all cried out, and Suguru's lost consciousness. His eyes are closed and his head lolls forward, hair drooping across his face. And when the man finishes, Suguru is left on the post, his blood and sweat mixing together across his back. You can hear ragged breathing after a minute of waiting, and Naoya goes up to Suguru's body, pulling his head back by his hair.

"Learned not to mess with my things?" he grins, and Suguru drags himself from the edge of consciousness to whisper,

"For y/n? I'd do it all over again."

The look of pure, unadulterated shock on Naoya's face is enough to haunt you every day afterward.

[nelapanela94]

Levixreader

Fluff fluff fluff

Marley, 853

With a bored look on the face, chin resting on hand and fingers tapping on the wooden table, you were impatiently waiting for your order to arrive. "Why is it taking too long?" you pouted like a child. The man sitting across the table lowered his newspaper, took a glanced at his watched, then looked at you. "It's been only five minutes since the waitress took the order"

"Five minutes?" you protested throwing your arms in the air. The black-haired man rolled the eyes at your childish outburst and continued his reading.

You had convinced Levi to have breakfast together at the waffle shop downtown. Since the place opened at 9, you made the most of your time and went for a stroll along the port. The commercial center was the perfect place to find exotic goods from all over the world and you were looking for any eye-catching object to take back home. You bought a beautiful white silk robe from Hizuru, adorned with hand-painted flowers. Levi went straight to the spices and herbs market from the Middle-East to find rare blends. When you were about to leave, his eyes landed on a fine 21-piece china tea set and could not miss the opportunity.

"And I'm the whimsical one" You scoffed.

"Shut up"

Then, you headed to the beach. You had taken with you the camera Onyakopon had given you for your last birthday. Out of all of the objects the marleyan engineers had introduced to the islanders, the camera was your favorite. You were left utterly astonished by the artefact that could freeze time and immortalize moments. It took you some time, and wasted films, to understand the functioning and mechanism, but once you mastered it, you would always carry it with you.

While you were taking photos, Levi waited for you sitting on a rock that offered him a great view of the sea. The soft morning breeze caressed his face and ruffled his hair, his eyes fixed on the horizon. Looking back over his life, he still found it hard to believe how far he'd come. From being born in the Underground City bereft from any form of sunlight, to reaching the other side of the ocean. His eyes darted towards you, his shelter, his best friend, his confident, the light his life was missing. You looked so beautiful in that emerald green dress he had bought for you the day you disembarked in the continent.

He watched you taking off your shoes. The water was so inviting you could not resist wading along the shore.

"Oi, (name)" He called. "It's almost 9:30"

"Coming" you turned around throwing a smile at him.

.

Your eyes brightened in excitement when the young waitress placed the waffle in front of you. You had ordered the house special, which consisted of a round waffle with chocolate spread, topped with fresh strawberries and blueberries, vanilla ice cream, whipped cream and melted caramel; as well as a double chocolate shake to wash all down. Levi, on the other hand, had opted for something simpler: a regular waffle with honey and butter, accompanied by chai tea. You stabbed the waffle with the fork and cut a small piece you brought to your mouth. Your eyes widened as you chewed the first bite. It was perfectly balanced in texture, crispy on the outside, soft and fluffy in the inside. The chocolate spread was so creamy it melted in your mouth. You cut another bite, but this time you smeared it in the ice cream and whipped cream before putting it into you mouth. Your whole face lit up.

"Levi" you swallowed. "I think I just found the new love of my life. This is even better than the crusty, cheesy thing we had last night"

"You mean pizza?"

"yup, that" You cut another piece. "I would have this for breakfast everyday"

"You'd die of a diabetic coma"

"I'd die happily, then" you took a sip of the shake. "Wow!" your brows furrowed, and you placed your hands on the sides of your head. "I think my brain just froze"

Levi snorted and a ghost of a smile flickered on his lips. You had the capacity to see the extraordinary in the most ordinary things, to find the bright side in the most humdrum situations. It was like your inner child never died. Unlike you, he had to face the most horrid things since he was a little boy, and to learn to fight at such a young age to survive in that shit hole. At some point, he thought he was not worthy of any sort of bliss. But then, you came into his life and showed him all the good things he was missing.

You and Levi spent the whole day together away from those noisy brats. You visited a couple of museums, walked hand in hand in the botanical garden, went to the shopping district; and by the end of the afternoon, you stopped at the film processing local to pick up the developed photographs from the film.

You handed him the envelope and he read the note you had just written. 'the one and only love of my life'

He drew out the photographs from the paperwrap and carefully checked each one. The ends of his mouth lifted.

He was in every single one of them.

[well-its-not-human-anymore]

So this is a personal one for me to ask and if you're not comfortable with it don't mind it; how would the tmnt boys (seperate) react when the reader confesses that they're autistic after the boys got curious when she had some peculiar, behavior or stims. The reader would be stressed, because she has a crush on the tmnt boy in question and she didn't want them to find her weird or just stop interacting with her. When she's met with confusion instead, because the boys never heard of it, cue this weird conversation where reader tells them to the best of her ability what it is and the boys just keep asking questions. Also some general headcannons with it maybe?

Okay so I'm actually really happy that you asked me this because I feel like ASD isn't portrayed a lot in any type of media. My ADD and ASD have a lot of overlap so I hope I can capture what you're asking of me!

Now let's get into it!

TMNT Headcanons

The boys reacting to an autistic reader

Leonardo

he wasn't really sure what was happening the first time you reacted

one minute you were standing next to him doing dishes and the next you were attempting to claw your skin off like an angry cat

Leo tried not to look annoyed as he watched you rub your hands against your shirt until your flesh started to turn red

you looked like you were crying but he knew you weren't

but your face was starting to turn purple and your cheeks were puffy from the effort of holding your breath

"Y/N? You need to breathe."

You shot a glare at him, scathing eyes meeting his now very concerned expression

your own softened and you clutched your arms to your chest, heaving oxygen into your lungs until your face became a normal shade again

"Are you okay?"

The words were stuck in your throat and you weren't sure if you should nod or shake your head

so you gave him a half-hearted shrug

he frowned back at you but turned to finish the dishes on his own

when he questioned you about it later he couldn't help but be curious

"Well actually it's uh- it's kinda a sensory type of thing? There are certain textures that I can't stand touching do I avoid them but if I come into contact by accident my brain just kinda explodes and I shut down."

"How exactly does that work though?"

"I don't really understand it much but like- you know that feeling you get when you think there's a bug on you and there's not but it really really feels like it?"

He nodded

"Yeah, it feels like that. And anytime I touch something that triggers that reaction it takes FOREVER to get the feeling off my skin. That's why I usually wear gloves when I do dishes. Guess I just forgot to grab 'em today."

He was sympathetic

and god, you were so embarrassed

lucky for you, Leo's not an asshole

"Well thank you for explaining it to me, you really freaked me out earlier. I'll talk to April and see if we can keep a pair or two at the lair just in case you forget again."

Consider your heart melted

you couldn't even find the words to thank him and holy shit was your face red

"Hey y/n?"

"Yeah Leo?"

"Why didn't you ever tell me- us that you were autistic?"

Did you rip the band aid off now or make something up? Which would ,technically speaking, be less catastrophic in the long run?

"I uh- I really like you and I really didn't want you or the other's to look at me differently..."

wow, you liked him? miss ma'am you have saved this boy a world of anxiety and damn does he thank you for it

"Thanks for telling me... and y/n? I really like you to."

Awh fuck yeah, best possible execution of band aid-ripping-off ever

Donatello

Donnie wished he could act surprised when you finally told him

he really wanted to, it would've made you feel better for sure

but he sucked at lying and he didn't want to make you feel like he thought you were an idiot

because that was so far from the truth

after going through extensive research on Mikey's behalf when he suspected he had ADHD Donnie had stumbled across many different websites that discussed the symptoms and overlaps between both disorders

to make a long story short, Donnie knew that you had ASD and he was waiting for you to tell him

it would probably come off as rude if he brought it up in conversation right?

he didn't want to risk it

but that didn't stop him from keeping an eye on you and your behaviors

he was a man of science, of course he was going to analyze you

not in a weird way or anything, just as a curious sort of precaution

but the longer you were involved in the turtle's lives the more noticeable your stims and meltdowns got, Donnie did his best to cover for you without making you suspicious of him

eventually he'd come up with something that he hoped would come across as a friendly gesture and wouldn't set you off or scare you away

it was game night at the lair and you, as always, were perched on the arm of the sofa, a large grin plastered on your face

inside your head was exploding but you were masking it pretty well if you do say so yourself

but Donnie was, well... donnie was donnie

so when he noticed you starting to rock a little more visibly he removed his attention from commentating the game and grabbed a pair of headphones from the side table

you were beyond confused when he passed them to you but your face revealed everything

"They're noise cancelling, try them on."

holy shit it was like putting your head underwater, everything was muffled

not in the way normal headphones did, you quite literally couldn't hear anything at all, just a calm amount of nothing

you nearly started crying when you realized that Donnie had figured you out on his own

but you'd never been more relieved about anything in your life

Raphael

he wouldn't admit that he was mesmerized by your presence

you practically radiated calm

his complete opposite

it was his favorite thing about you, because despite your quiet disposition and calming aura you weren't afraid to call him out or rebut any of his insults

this was not something you expected him to appreciate nor was it something you thought would make you catch feelings

but damn if you didn't

he'd been sitting in on yours and Donnie's little experiment for an hour or so now, watching you both exchange quiet whispers and inside jokes that you always seemed to lag on

then you slipped up

not bad, nothing detrimental to the project, just the same mistake that you'd already made ten times over

you might as well have exploded

"Y'N, you just have to move thi-"

"I KNOW DONATELLO. I FUCKING KNOW AND I JUST CAN'T DO THIS BULLSHIT!"

you set everything down gently enough to avoid breaking it before turning and storming out of the lab, waving your hands like they were on fire

Raph and Donnie exchanged a look that sent the larger red turtle following after you

when you calmed yourself down enough to talk you kept your gaze locked on the wall, explaining that you couldn't make eye contact when you were upset

he might not be the smartest brother, but Raph's no dummy, he put those pieces together pretty quickly after you told him that one small detail

he wasn't upset that you didn't tell him and you'd personally never been more relieved

your heart nearly splattered into the stratosphere when you finally gace him your own explanation

"yeah, I like ya too."

you grinned so wide you were sure your face would split open and your entire body rocked side to side with excitement

he thought that was pretty adorable too

And he did stick around to offer a bit of support when you apologized to Donnie for screaming at him

Michaelangelo

to be frank it probably shouldn't have taken so long for Mikey to realize that you were autistic

the similarities between your own personality and his ADHD were so in sight it was near painful

it was his turn to make dinner that night and you'd made sure that you came over early to help him set up, you knew how side-tracked he'd get and you were the poster child for solid routine

what more perfect matchup existed?

trick question, there isn't one

you were on one side of the counter cutting vegetables and he was on the other throwing said vegetables into the mixing pot

the music was at an ungodly level of loud so your only means of communication were screaming over it

"MIKEY."

"WHA?"

"YOU GOT THE-"

"YEAH."

"AND THE-"

"UH HUH."

"COOL, HAVE YOU SEEN THE-"

"TONGS? NO, THE SKEWERS. YEAH, THEY'RE IN THE OTHER DRAWER."

"THANKS."

the two of you went about your previous tasks, thinking nothing of the conversation that had just taken place

at least until you'd begun washing your knife and cutting board

that's when Casey walked in, looking both perturbed and annoyed at the same time

"Alright, which one of you knows telepathy?"

Mikey exchanged a glance with you and you returned it with a raised eyebrow

"The hell you mean brah?"

he looked at the both of you like you were the ones that had grown four extra heads before speaking again

"You literally just had a conversation with like five words and somehow just knew what the other meant? What's up with that?"

you glanced at Mikey again

"Holy shit, did we?"

"I mean, not really. You used your hands."

now all three of you were confused but it quickly became two when Casey shook his head in defeat and left the room

"You know I think he's right."

he blinked first and your staring contest ended

"But you used your hands-"

"I got autism Mikey, one does not simply not use their hands as forms of speech."

"You're-"

"Yep."

was the silence laughing at you? could it do that? it was kinda rude

"Huh, that actually makes sense, that's not mean is it?"

you shook your head no

"You're just me but fast."

Mikey agreed with that, pestered you with a few more questions, and went back about working, as did you, you saw no reason to address it further

but your cheeks burned red

"Yo- Y/N that actually explains why everyone else thinks we're a thing."

you didn't know if you could choke on air or not but you did it anyways

"Are we?"

he gave you his signature grin

"If we are then Raph owes April a hundred bucks."

you returned his smile

"Oh this oughta be good."

I'd like to preface this by apologizing for my near three week absence. Life got crazy and my writer's block hopped on a train, went through a school zone, killed seven pedestrians, and committed tax fraud before tumbling off a cliff never to be seen again.

But on the bright side- I got my SAT scores back and started some scholarship applications. Super happy with that. School's out in a few weeks so I'll be able to write more (hopefully).

Anyways, I hope I got this one down okay. I may have hyper analyzed the request so I might be a little off. But I really enjoyed doing this one and I hope you like it!

-Mars 🌠

[thatslikely]

A Slow Dance - G.W.

A Slow Dance- George Weasley x Fem!Reader (unspecified house)

Warnings: none! pure fluff <3

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: y’all I’m serious. where’s my George. I need someone like this asap, don’t be shy universe. hope you guys enjoy as always :)

Just a Reminder: song lyrics/thoughts are in italics [I imagined is Put Your Head on My Shoulder by Paul Anka, but any song works]

Taglist: @horrorxweasley @hufflepuff5972 @amourtentiaa 

if you want to be added, send me a dm or an ask!

Requested by the lovely @amourtentiaa [my first request I’ve gotten, and I love it!]

----

“Ugh. Why do you have to sit hunched over your desk studying all the time? Have at least a little fun! It’s our last year at Hogwarts!” A sprawled out George exclaimed from your ruffled four-poster bed with a groan. His handsome face hung off the edge of the bed frame, his upside-down gaze fixed on your distracted figure.

George was always quite needy; it was practically a law of nature. Whether it was running around pulling a record-breaking marathon of pranks, or just tenderly holding his large, soft hand while discussing your favorite novel, he lapped up every ounce of you he could. 

“Georgie, if I don’t do well on my N.E.W.T.s, how do you expect me to get a decent job?” you asked with a bit more bite than you intended. The complex, academic sentences scribbled onto the parchment before you droned through your brain like headache-inducing white noise, which soured your attitude more than you liked to admit. 

It made your heart flutter knowing that George yearned for your care so much, but you had your whole life to spend with the vexatious redhead. You only had the next week to pass your N.E.W.T.s. 

“You’ll always have a job down with me at the shop, c’mon! Imagine: my two favorite things wrapped up into one!” he said, before adding more softly, “plus, you’d look so cute in the uniform.” You couldn’t help your cheeks from heating up at his affectionate comment, which wasn’t intended to grace your ears. 

“I wish it was simple as that, Georgie. While I’d love to work with you at the shop, you know that’s not what I really want to do. You always tell me to shoot for the moon, and this is just part of the process.” You were unrelenting with your studying, which George of course admired, but he was equally relentless in his pursuit of spending time with you, even if it was just for a second. 

The dorm fell suspiciously quiet, which allowed your mind to delve even deeper into your studies. The strokes of your quill grew deeper and sharper into the parchment with focus, the ink-blotted tip eventually tearing a small rip mid-sentence.

A breath that you unknowingly held escaped your lips in the form of an exasperated sigh. You rubbed your temples before picking up the quill and starting again. 

You mindlessly scribed cursive onto the dense paper for several minutes before snapping out of your trance at the jarring noise of a chair’s legs scraping across the hardwood floors. George took the vacant seat next to you, resting his elbow on the surface of the desk. 

His handsome face rested comfortably in his palm, his whole body turned towards you. You could’ve sworn his mischievous but lovable gaze flickered to your soft lips every few seconds like a magnet drawn to its opposite pole. 

Stop thinking about George, and his delicious lips, alluring cocoa-colored eyes, fluffy red hair… think about Transfiguration! 

Your quill-wielding wrist moved in more furious motions, your determination to stay devoted to your academics made your eyes drift to the smug titian-haired boy next to you more than ever. You eventually succumbed to your heart’s desires, giving George a small glance.

The expression George donned shattered your expectations; you expected his eyes to be droopy and half-asleep, jaw-slacked in boredom, evidenced by his disdain of all things school-related. 

Instead, however, his red tongue stuck out to his chin, his index fingers pulling apart his freckled cheeks. His mocha eyes were humorously crossed, fixed on his adorable aquiline nose. He looked utterly ridiculous.

“What’re you doing, Georgie? You look absurd!” you questioned with a hefty chuckle. His eyes lit up with triumph at the laugh fleeing your lips. 

“I’m getting your eyes off that stupid piece of parchment! You’ve been writing nonsense on it for the past quarter of an hour. You need a break.”

“Just let me study a bit more, then I promise I’ll spend some time with you, okay?” you bargained, hoping for compliance. You pivoted your head back to the strewn papers resting on the mahogany desk in front of you, ready to get back into a productive rhythm. 

The welcome rhythm never stayed for long though, for it was always disrupted by George making another goofy face. He’s just being a child, you thought, you’re a seventh year. Ridiculous faces aren’t funny. Oh how wrong you were. 

With every new expression that graced his features, another laugh threatened to escape your mouth. Soon enough, your eyes were steadily fixed on the frivolous ginger, ready for what face he would come up with next. 

Your brain was locked in a battle: George and his loveable humor, versus your Transfiguration notes and passing your N.E.W.T.s. Both were hardy competitors, but in the end, McGonagall’s subject prevailed. George got up from the seat next to you with a huff, blowing a stray red strand of hair up from his forehead. 

He paced around the large room, scheming a way to get your undivided attention. He peeked around the wooden shelves and dressers that stayed pressed against the walls of the dorms, looking for something, anything.

His eyes eventually settled on the record player on your nightstand by your bed. It was a muggle device that his father had ranted about many times before, and he guessed that he could probably figure out how to work it. 

His calloused fingers plucked the top inky-black vinyl record from the stack, feeling the textured grooves engraved in its surface. He set the record in place, dropping the needle not long after. The previously pin-drop silent room quickly came to life with the enrapturing sounds of harmonious chords.

It appeared that even the universe wanted to free you from the shackles of your boring notes, for the vinyl George happened to choose was your favorite song, and a slow, romantic one at that. 

George lightly tapped your back, causing you to swivel around towards him. He had his long, toned arm outstretched to you charmingly, beckoning you for a dance. You gingerly placed your palm into his and he swiftly pulled you out of the chair and into the middle of the floor.

His face was handsome as ever; you only just now realized how much you missed all of him. His gentle touch, his honey-pooled eyes, the pure love pumping through his veins. His hands rapturously rested on your waist, yours’ wrapped around the nape of his neck. You twirled a small section of his red hair in between your fingers, which only made the lovestruck grin on his face grow bigger.

The song continued to echo through the cozy walls of the room, the unified swaying of your hips in sync with the song’s slow beat. You nearly melted in his warm embrace, his arms gradually bringing you closer and closer to his beating chest.

You eventually rested your head on George’s shoulder, feeling the soothing vibrations of his vocal chords humming along with the notes of the song. 

Put your lips next to mine dear, won’t you kiss me once, baby?

As if the song had you two lovebirds under a spell, George slowly brought his lips to yours, giving you a slow and passionate kiss. 

He’d kissed you so many times before, but this time it felt different, in the best way possible. It was as if angels sang when your lips graced his’; you could taste his feelings through the connection, his devotion and longing for you overriding your senses. Your eyes teared up at the wave of endearing emotions that overcame you. 

The sensual dancing continued long through the night, the tender and enchanting kisses and slow sways wiping your mind of the stressful upcoming exams. 

“Feel better, darling?” George breathily mumbled into your ear, the warmth from his mouth shooting directly to your heart, coating your body with goosebumps.

All your hazy, smitten mind could respond with was a simple but passionate, “I love you.”

“I love you too, darling.”

[levis-little-nuggie]

I’d love Lucifer & Rain for November 12th Prompt, maybe sharing an umbrella home late at night, nsfw would be fun too if you want to, or even better MCxLuciferxDiavolo, “it’s too rainy, just stay here for the night” nsfw prompt ~ HoRights (I love ur writing, especially your nsfw work, especially how you write Diavolo)

PHEW. This one kicked my BUTT but I did it! I did it for you nonny and for anyone else who would enjoy this. This is my first threesome and constructive criticism is welcome!

Warnings: nsfw, she/her pronouns, 2nd person POV, double penetration, implied wounds from fangs and claws, please let me know if I need to add more!!

10: Rain with Diavolo, Lucifer, and Reader

It wasn't supposed to rain, the forecast called for clear skies. You specifically double and triple checked to make sure there'd be no precipitation that day before you decided on your outfit. Lord Diavolo had invited you and Lucifer over for tea and to check up on how your exchange program was going so far. Asmo just happened to be walking by when the invitation was announced and stole you away to his room to get ready.

"It's not every day you get the attention of the two strongest demons in all of Devildom," his honey whiskey eyes twinkled and he winked at you, "so let's give them something to look at."

Your hair was up in a bun, loose tendrils and bangs were shaped to frame your face. Asmo had fretted over your make-up giving you a natural look to highlight your "adorable human face," with winged eyeliner and a barely pink lipstick that was almost nude with highlighter brushed across your cheeks.

The dress he had given you, he said he was borrowing it for inspiration but you had given him your best puppy dog eyes and he crumbled. The way it felt against your skin, the way you looked in the mirror, a sense of empowerment washed over you and he whistled at your newfound confidence. You'd never worn this much white before because you never trusted yourself not to get something on it. However, one look at your legs, the skin of your thighs from behind the lace that extended down to your ankles reaffirmed it for you. There was no way you wouldn't wear this creation.

It wasn't supposed to rain yet here you were, both you and Lucifer soaked to the bone. The sky had unleashed a torrential downpour and neither of you had been prepared for it. He shifted quickly into his demon form and sped to Diavolo's castle but the rain still got to you and the wind from his speed didn't help at all.

On the bright side, your make-up was still flawless.

Barbatos met you at the door with the fluffiest towels you'd ever seen, they were warm as if plucked fresh from the dryer. You let out a moan as you wrapped the towel around your bare arms; the soft texture and heated warmth soothing your shivering skin.

Lucifer took his coat off and traded it for a towel from Barbatos. He ushered you over to the fireplace already roaring with a mild inferno. Draping his own towel around his shoulders, the noise you'd made caught his attention and he turned to face you.

Hiding his frustration at your feeble attempts to dry yourself off, Lucifer reached up over to you, easily undoing your bun and watched as your hair fell. “It’ll be easier to dry if it’s down.”

You nod as you look up at him. Beads of water streaming down his face, following the contours of his neck, you licked your lips as he turns to Barbatos.

“Barbatos, please inform Lord Diavolo we will need a moment to dry off. We will wait here, the fire should help."

Barbatos nodded and turned to go update the Prince leaving the two of you alone for the moment. You looked down at your dress and pouted, but jumped back, fighting to cover yourself more with the towel as you realized your very wet white dress was now also very see through.

The water caused the dress to turn so sheer that you could see every dip and curve of your figure including your underwear and your painfully erect nipples. You swore you could hear Asmo laughing and you resigned yourself to never wear something of his again.

You turned to face the fire, fingers biting into the towel and tried to focus on warming up. The material of the dress hung around your legs, and you were trying to keep yourself from shivering. He sighed as he grabbed a blanket from the arm of the couch. As he walked over to you he opened the blanket, covering your legs.

“He probably won’t be long.” He clicked his tongue. “You’re not at all ready to see Lord Diavolo. And I can’t have you looking like this.” He tutted as if you were a child and you huffed, about to bite back but the retort fizzled as you felt a gloved hand against the side of your face.

Lucifer took hold of your chin and turned your head to the side as he spoke in your ear, “Let me dry you off,” his warm breath against your damp skin sent shivers down your spine. Taking hold of the towel around your arms, he started to rub circles over your shoulders, slowly moving down your collarbone to your chest.

“You must be really cold being this wet.” His hands starting to massage your breasts, focusing around your nipples. He watched as you tried to hold in your reaction. “I’m simply helping you to dry off, and you’re reacting quite lewdly." Your mouth gaped open and you scoffed. "How can I not react like this when you're," he pinched your nipple effectively cutting you off. He drew out a mewl as his fingers continued to massage your breasts.

”I’ve only just started to dry you off. ” He lifted one hand and removed his glove with his teeth, returning it to your breast and repeated the same for the other hand. Continuing to dry you off, he started to bring the towel further down your body, his fingers pressing into your skin.

Adjusting the towel so it was around your waist, he pulled you into him a bit. His knee pressing up between your thighs and you bit back a moan as you felt him tug the towel tighter around you, moving your hips over his leg. “Your dress is even soaked down here.”

He watched as the wet ends of your hair dripped down your chest and puddles formed on the carpet under you. “Now you’re getting the carpet wet. We must see to it you have a recap on manners.” He leaned down as slowly licked the crevices of your collarbone up to your neck. You whined, feeling your composure start to crumble as the flat of his tongue made your eyes roll back, your hands reaching out to his biceps to steady yourself.

“Well, it seems I’m just in time.” Diavolo’s voice echoed behind them. You froze and your heart sank to your stomach from the intrusion. You flushed a bright red, wishing that the fight or flight instincts for humans included temporary invisibility.

Lucifer nipped at the skin under your ear, his hands continuing to rub over your hips as he pulled away looking down at her then over at Diavolo, “Assistance seems to be required with this one. So unkempt, she needs a lesson in how to refine herself.”

“Yes, I see what you mean, she is making quite the mess of the floor.” Diavolo walked up behind you, as he took the towel from around Lucifer’s neck. You blinked and found yourself swallowing hard as the two conversed, suddenly feeling very small and vulnerable as the look in their eyes turned predatory.

“I know you're more than capable of attending to the front of her," towel in hand, Diavolo began by gently patting your hair between the folds, surprising you as he actually began helping you to dry off. "I can see why you're requesting assistance," he hummed but there was something sinister in the way he tried to sound innocent. Diavolo pulled his hands away and you cried out, shuddering on Lucifer's knee as the demon prince delivered a sharp spank to your ass.

"She's soaking wet and thinks she can speak without permission." His fingers groped your ass before running the towel down your thighs, to your ankles and back up, his hands kneading your cheeks through the towel. "Quite the handful indeed."

“Your behavior right now in front of the Prince is disappointing. You can't even form a coherent sentence." Lucifer saw the fire in your eye, your mouth opening to bite back but your breath caught in your throat as he pressed three of his fingers into your mouth. You glared but the look he gave melted you and you began lapping and sucking his fingers obediently.

“Now now, I think she’s starting to get better. Besides, how is she supposed to speak if you don't give her the chance to." Diavolo's claws snipped the fabric over your shoulders and cut through the straps of your bra. His gentle hands pulled the fabric down exposing your damp skin to the heat of the rolling fire between their bodies and from the fireplace.

Goosebumps rippled across your skin as he tugged the fabric down further, freeing your breasts from their confines and tossing your bra gracefully into the fire. You wanted to whine but the prince took a step closer, his hands moving to cup your breasts, fingers toying with your nipples and you cried out against Lucifer's fingers and he shoved then further into your mouth. Diavolo rested his head on your shoulder as his hands continued kneading and massaging your tits and he smiled innocently at Lucifer.

"I think she's behaving quite admirably so far but we do need to do something about this dress. It's almost a shame I wasn't able to see it fully. Oh well," his voice was filled with mock disappointment as his hands slid under the dress and along your stomach, down the front of your thighs, his thumbs hooking into and dragging your panties down with the dress.

Your body shivered as his nails bit into your flesh as the material pooled at your feet. The dress was snatched away and you found yourself being pushed further and harder onto Lucifer's thigh, your mind fogging over as hands roved around your body; one moving your hips forcing you to ride Lucifer's leg and two hands on your chest playing with your nipples simultaneously.

Your back arched and your head thumped against Diavolo’s chest and he chuckled, fangs nipping at the skin of your throat. You whined as his fangs pierced your skin, his hot tongue lapping at the blood that slowly dripped down. Lucifer removed his fingers from your mouth and leaned in to replace them with his tongue as his hand traveled down to your folds. You squeaked in surprise as his slick digits worked to stretch out your puckered entrance instead of your cunt. Sensing your confusion, Diavolo reached down to your thighs, hands scooping under your knees and hoisting you up. Your face heated up, flushed red as a tomato as he held you open in front of Lucifer, your legs spread wide. Lucifer hummed appreciatively but tsked as you turned your head to the side to try and hide, closing your eyes and biting your lip as you felt Diavolo’s erection pressed against the underside of your cheeks.

“You should know by now little one that you can’t hide from us.” The Prince’s words rolled over your skin like warm honey as his mouth attached itself to the crook of your neck, crying out as he bit down the same time Lucifer’s fingers re-entered your back side, working your muscles and stretching you out. Your eyes snapped open when you felt Lucifer’s hand gently guiding your chin to look back at him, his lips latching on to yours as both of his hands moved to prep and stretch both of your openings. His tongue invaded your mouth, brushing up against your own forcefully, saliva dribbled down your chin, swallowing your moans as you cried out from the pleasure that pooled from his ministrations.

Your mind barely registered the sounds of their pants being undone but you felt the dual presence of both their members pressed against your skin. Diavolo lifted you a little higher for Lucifer to guide the Prince’s erection into your cunt, coating himself with your slick juices and growling as he bit into your shoulder. Lucifer’s mouth went down to your chest, biting and tugging at your nipples, his tongue lapping to soothe the pain. Your eyes fluttered, back arching as Diavolo lowered you down, your cunt engulfing his over-sized demon cock. The stretch from his girth sent stars across your vision, toes curling, and your voice crying out as the heat that was building up released. Lucifer pulled away to watch your face twist up in orgasmic bliss, chuckling as he pumped his own erection a few times, inpatient to feel you convulse around him.

“Orgasms make for such a pleasant shade of red across her face.” Your mind barely registering the smooth baritone of Lucifer’s voice over the groans from the prince behind you. Your orgasm came as a surprise to the prince and he was losing his composure.

“I can see why you’ve taken such a liking to this human,” Diavolo’s voice rumbled with a growl as his claws bit into the soft flesh of your thighs, “I almost don’t want to share her.” Lucifer froze in front of you and Diavolo laughed, sighing as he pulled himself out of you, his tip re-aligning with your lower entrance. “Come now Luce, I said ‘almost.’” The prince nipped at your earlobe and started pushing his way inside. Your hands reached out to Lucifer and he didn’t hesitate to catch your arms, stepping closer to allow you to brace yourself on his biceps.

Taking a moment, Lucifer reached up to tuck loose strands of your hair behind your ear, his gaze soft as he took in your facial features looking for any signs of discomfort in your body language. Your eyes flickered down to his lips and he brought himself in closer, his own cock pushing its way through your folds as he sealed his lips over yours. His mouth muffled your moans, your hips involuntarily bucking themselves to feel more of him, thrusting Diavolo’s cock further into you. Lucifer rolled his hips a few more times, grinding his hips into yours but it wasn’t enough for you. Even with the demon prince already inside of you, your core cried out for Lucifer.

“Lucifer, please,” the demons shared a look, a silent conversation, and Lucifer’s lips were back on yours as he snapped his hips, sheathing himself fully into you. Diavolo didn’t even wait for you to adjust before he started rolling his hips, his hands on your thighs moving you in tandem with his thrusting. Lucifer’s hands were on your hips as he set his pace, alternating with the prince.

Their thrusting felt like it was going to rip you in half, you reminded yourself that it’d be easy for them to do so, but your body accepted their girths nonetheless. You felt every ridge and bump as their cocks took their turns fucking you, one after the other, never feeling empty as they kept a steady pace. Cries and moans poured out from between your lips, noises you thought you’d never make outside your dreams, however you were completely ignorant from the strain on your throat. You wouldn’t be able to speak tomorrow but that was the furthest thing from your mind.

Their breaths like molten lava over your skin as the three of you panted, composure crumbling as their pace increased. Their thrusting became erratic, no longer working in tandem, their grip on your body tightening, your body bouncing as it tried to keep up. One of your hands flew up to wrap around the back of Diavolo’s neck, your nails digging into Lucifer’s shoulder in a desperate attempt to hold onto something.

Diavolo’s chest rumbled against your back, letting out a low growl that reverberated through your soul and ignited your core. Their hands switched positions on your body. Sharp claws dug into your hips as the prince took full control over the pace, forcing your body to ride them in unison. Lucifer leaned forward, his teeth grazing over your collarbone sending sparks straight to your core and the pitch in your voice increasing as your body raced to its next orgasm.

Taking the hint, Diavolo lowered his head and sank his fangs into your shoulder, Lucifer followed suit biting into your collarbone. A shrill scream tore from your and your body froze before shaking violently as the dam holding back your orgasm broke open. Growls from both demons deafening in your ears as your muscles convulsed and tightened around them, chasing their own orgasms just moments after yours. The heat from their release filling you and their thrusting slowed to lazy rolls allowing your body to milk them, stuffing you with their cum.

Claws reverted back to fingers and they pulled their teeth from your flesh. You mewled as their tongues lapped at the wounds and cleaned up the blood. The hands from your hips disappeared and soft lips pressed against your temple in a chaste kiss. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped when the prince ruffled Lucifer’s hair. Crimson eyes rolled and Diavolo let out his own chuckle and he stepped away. Lucifer moved his arms to help you stand upright, wrapping his arms around you after your feet touched the ground and your knees buckled.

Their seed leaked from you, you felt it running down your thigh and the prince practically purred in delight. In an instant, Barbatos was there with three plush robes, his visage polite and respectful but you were still riding the post-orgasm high to feel mortified in front of the other demon. Lucifer made sure to help you with your robe first, fastening the tie around your waist before donning his own robe.

Lightning cracked outside the mansion and you swore you saw Diavolo’s demon form in the flash of the light, his eyes briefly flashing with an unsatiated appetite. You blinked and he resumed his normal cheerful demeanor.

“You’re more than welcome to stay here and wait out the rest of the storm. Barbatos will show you to your room. Feel free to rest, recoup, whatever it is you two lovebirds do to pass the time.” His smile remained joyous but his eyes poured into yours with an intense heat. “Don’t hesitate to seek me out if there’s anything you need to make your stay more,” his voice dropped ever so slightly as he said, “enjoyable.”

“Thank you Lord Diavolo for accommodating us on such short notice,” Lucifer’s voice was cordial, but there was a playful glint in his eye as he responded to the prince. “I’m sure I can find ways to entertain Y/N until the rain stops but don’t worry, I’ll have her cry out your name if we need your assistance.”

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [21]

Chapter 20 - Chapter 21 - Chapter 21.5 OR Chapter 22

➜ Words: 4.5k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

Baking is a mastery. It’s an ability that needs to be practiced and refined. It requires discipline and patience, especially when things go wrong. It’s problem solving and creative with never one right answer. It’s practically magic in a silver bowl, a whisk, and an oven. And Jungkook is the best wizard in this kitchen.   He preheats the oven to three hundred and seventy five degrees fahrenheit. Then he cuts parchment paper to line a baking sheet and moves to brush the ramekins with melted butter. Jungkook adds the tablespoon of white sugar and rotates the ramekins until the surfaces are coated in it.   Five ounces of seventy percent dark chocolate is put into a bowl with two ounces of semisweet chocolate and he melts it over a saucepan with hot water on low heat. Afterwards, he adds the egg yolks until the mixture stiffens. Jungkook wipes his sweat before he mixes in the tablespoon of flour and butter, reducing the heat to low and adding in some cold milk.   It’s thickened after three minutes and he adds salt, a pinch of cayenne pepper as a secret ingredient, and mixes.   The bowl is left over hot water while he whips egg whites with a pinch of cream of tartar, adding sugar after a bit to create glossy, soft peaks.   Jungkook transfers the egg whites into the soufflé base, folding it in gently one third at a time and then he divides the mixture to bake for a full fifteen minutes.   What he’s left with at the end is the best chocolate soufflé on the planet.   “What do you think?”   “It’s really good.” Aeri politely smiles and you roll your eyes.   “You don’t need to feed his ego. He’s been raving about it for days now.”   “And you’ve eaten at least ten of them.” Jungkook grins and you mutter incoherently, unable to really protest against the claim that’s all too true.   The soufflé is puffed and crusty on top, but still gooey and jiggly in the center. It’s risen to its maximum height without collapsing whatsoever, uniform all around. And the texture is cloud-like, soft with the chocolate taste melting on the palate.   It took two weeks to perfect — but the outcome made the effort all worth it.   “I call it the ultimate soufflé.”   Your brows raise. “The ultimate? Not Jungkook’s ultimate?”   “Nope. The ultimate.” He smirks and leans into you. “Want another one?”   You hope he doesn’t know that it takes a lot of strength for you to reject.   Jungkook’s good at baking. That much is clear. You’re not sure if he’s as good as you are of course, but anything that has to do with chocolate practically has his name on it. His chocolate soufflé is no exception. It’s fucking delicious. Enough that even Yoongi asks for seconds and Taehyung almost starts to cry.   But you don’t want to admit just how good it is since his ego’s been boundless these past few days.   “How does it feel to be in a relationship with the best chocolatier on Earth?” he pipes up suddenly when you haven’t even said a single word for the past five minutes. And when you tell Jungkook he’s not a chocolatier yet, he laughs and tells you he will be soon while condescendingly patting your head like you’re his pet.   As if that wasn’t enough, he interrupts snuggling time by rolling over with a pompous look on his face. “I’m just so happy right now.”   “Why?”   You’re expecting a corny answer along the lines of — ‘because you’re here’. But instead Jungkook sighs dreamily and says, “I really nailed that soufflé, didn’t I?”   It’s annoying. You’re just trying to live your life peacefully but in every shape, way, or form, no matter the context, he just has to bring up that goddamn soufflé like it’s his child he’s so proud of. It’s not like you aren’t happy for your boyfriend — frankly, you wouldn’t mind if he bragged or boasted about it to others. But he’s been constantly chirping about it in your ear. And any complaints from you would just warrant his grins and questions of if you’re jealous of his skills.   “I don’t know what to add to my portfolio,” you mention passingly one afternoon after much contemplation.   Your boyfriend hums. “You need something with chocolate, right?”   “Yeah.”   “Well, you could make my soufflé. I’m sure it would help with your grade a lot, but—,” Jungkook draws out the syllable with another sly smirk, “my recipe’s a secret. Sorry, babe. Wish I could help.”   In spite of your inner exhaustion and vexation, for the sake of being a good girlfriend, you simply nod and let him have his moment. Even if Jeon Jungkook was being unbearably arrogant and reminding you of why you hated him about a year ago, he was clearly happy with the recipe he worked so hard on and you didn’t want to step on that.    He deserves some personal limelight, so you let him have it.   But luckily, you don’t have to bear the weight of his smug ass by yourself for long.   “Yuna!” Your arm waves over your head. The high schooler smiles, rolling her luggage behind her and meeting with you halfway. Immediately, you engulf her in your arms even when she grumbles and resists. “How was the trip here? You’re not hungry, are you?”   “God, you’re like my mom,” she huffs. “It was fine. Hey, Jungkook.” Yuna shifts and smiles warmly at your boyfriend who nods, greeting her as well.   “Hey.”   “So this is the school you go to?”   You grin. “Sure is!”   The last time you were with Yuna, she expressed interest in the professional baking and pastry arts program. You didn’t expect that she would actually come visit during the week-long break for a tour but it was a surprise you welcomed. You hope you can take her interest and curiosity and inspire her.    “Namjoon and Sejeong packed some cookies for you. They told me to say...thanks….for showing me around when you’re busy and stuff.”   “It’s not a problem. I’m happy to.” You smile. “Tell them I said thanks too.”   “Taehyung’s joining us,” Jungkook reads off his phone and then pockets it. “Apparently, he’s bored.”   You shrug. “Fine by me.”    “Who’s Taehyung?” Yuna asks.   “Just a friend of ours,” you say to ease her obvious worries of the stranger.   The three of you wait a few minutes, getting caught up with one another as Yuna talks about what her last classes were about. But soon after, the tall brunette is strolling over with his hands buried in his white hoodie pockets. His hair is disheveled like he just rolled out of bed and you don’t think that’s too far from the truth.    “Jimin ditched me to go on some date with the chick from his classic desserts class,” he whines when he gets in ear-shot distance. “I thought I was going to die of boredom.”   “Tough life,” you scoff and don’t notice Yuna who’s frozen next to you. Her eyes are wide on the stranger, gaze sweeping up and down at him.    She swallows hard before stepping forward and making herself known. “H-Hi. My name is Kim Yuna.”   “Oh yeah.” Taehyung grins easily. “They told me about you.”   “Did they? I’m glad.” She giggles and tucks her hair behind her ear. You exchange expressions with Jungkook. This was an awfully familiar situation. “I’m Namjoon’s niece, their boss during their internship.”   “I’m Kim Taehyung.”   They shake hands and Yuna goes in for the kill without hesitation— “Does your girlfriend know you’re here?”   Taehyung is flustered, taken aback by the blunt question. “I….don’t have a girlfriend.”   “Great.” Yuna answers swiftly with a big smile.   You have to admit, she’s bold. The girl has some guts even you don’t have. And you’ve never witnessed Taehyung this perplexed either. It’s hard to catch someone as spontaneous as him off guard.   “How old are you?” Taehyung frowns, an apprehensive expression etched on his features like you’re telling him to touch a gooey substance in the corner of some dirty bathroom stall.   “I turned eighteen in May,” she declares bluntly.   But Taehyung looks unconvinced despite his slow nod. “That’s barely legal,” he mutters and only you and Jungkook catch it.   It’s hard to hold back laughter, but you try your best and interrupt— “Should we start the tour?”   You show her around campus, walking through the corridors, directing her where the lecture halls are and what classes are where. You tell her what it was like for first years and you show her the dormitories, the lockers, the dining hall, and the kitchen area.   All in the meanwhile, Taehyung sticks to Jungkook’s side like gum. It’s obvious that he’s intimidated by the petite high schooler and it’s an amusing sight.    But Yuna is a go-getter and somehow manages to get Taehyung beside her to answer her numerous questions. You and Jungkook fall back, no longer showing her the way and you’re reduced to watching their backsides.   “You know what I want to eat right now?” Jungkook turns to you, mumbling, “My soufflé.”   Here we go again….    You internally sigh, but maintain a stiff smile. “Uh-huh.”   “I should make it for Yuna. She’d be blown away.”   “What?” The younger girl twirls around at the mention of her name.   Jungkook grins at her. “You like soufflé? I make the best chocolate soufflé here.”   Yuna blinks, too innocent to know better. “Really?”   “Your soufflé isn’t even that good.” It’s a lie. “I bet I could do it better.” That’s an even bigger lie, but you can’t stop it once it’s spewed out of your mouth.   It goes silent.   Jungkook stops walking. Taehyung turns around.   “You think you can make a better chocolate soufflé than me?” Your boyfriend’s eyes narrow, taking personal offence.   You shrug — it’s too late to back down now. “Why not? Can’t be that hard.”   Jungkook scoffs with a stupidly smug expression, calling your bluff. “You can barely temper chocolate.”   “You underestimate me, Jeon,” you bite back and his lips curl.   “Fine. Let’s see then.”   //   It was a mistake — something said on impulse, after days of irritation bubbling in the pit of your stomach. It came tumbling out before you could know better, before you could think twice about the consequences, but now you’re standing in the kitchen at an impromptu competition.   “Welcome to the annual Jeon and L/N competition, everyone!”   “This isn’t annual,” you mutter at Taehyung’s unnecessary extravagance.   He corrects himself— “Welcome to the first annual Jeon and L/N competition, everyone!”   The word spread like wildfire, but luckily kept only in the group chat. The last thing you needed were acquaintances, classmates, and teachers coming to watch. The guys were noisy enough. And it’s a testament proven with Yoongi coming over, Hoseok sprinting to get here, and Jimin calling to tell everyone to wait for his date to be over. All of it was enough pressure you could handle at the moment.    But even Aeri had caught wind of what was going on and decided to come by.    It’s clear that there’s still tension between her and Hoseok. You don’t miss the strained expressions they exchange with one another before taking seats on the opposite ends, but you’re glad that they can at least be in the same room as one another. It’s an improvement. A sign of moving on.   Yet you don’t dwell on them — not when you have bigger fish to fry at the moment.   “Over here we have Y/N who believes she can make a better chocolate soufflé than Jungkook, an aspiring chocolatier who literally took weeks and weeks to perfect this recipe of his to make it the ultimate soufflé—”   “Alright, that’s enough,” you cut off Taehyung, the self-designated commentator, before you start actually sweating.   Jungkook is competitive. Everyone and their mother knows that. And that fact alone makes you nervous. He might just throw you entirely under the bus and burn your relationship to the ground for the sake of winning. You’re worried — but you don’t show it. You can’t.   If he knows you’re fearful, he’ll have the upper hand. So you feign indifference.   After all, if there was one similarity between you and Jungkook, it was that you weren’t going to back down without a fight either. You were born a winner and it was going to stay that way.   “And to make it more fair and maximize the amount of desserts we get to eat, over here we have Jeon Jungkook who will be making éclair. A pastry made with choux dough filled with cream and topped with chocolate icing. It is a specialty perfected by Y/N, an aspiring pâtisserie chef who dreams of running her own wedding cake catering services someday.”    “Two very different dishes that the opposing member has a speciality in.” Taehyung continues to narrate and nods his head, inadvertently making Yuna giggle, “Who can make it better? You’ll be the judge of that.”   It’s ridiculous, but you’re not going to cave in or surrender. Not when Jungkook’s ego was insurmountable and you’d never hear the end of it if you gave up.   An hour and a half is put on the clock. Your counters parallel to one another while your friends are gathered at the other, ready to watch, eat their snacks and hang around. You momentarily wonder why you never have the privilege of relaxing like them.   But you don’t think about it for too long. The moment Taehyung starts the time, you begin.   You preheat the oven and begin buttering the ramekins.    “How do you feel, Y/N?” Suddenly a whisk is thrusted in your face, almost puncturing your cheek. It’s a makeshift microphone that you push aside.   “Fine.”   “What are you doing now?”   “What does it look like?” You push Taehyung aside, grabbing sugar to coat the dish.   “Well alright then.” He laughs and slinks over to Jungkook’s side who’s humming underneath his breath. He’s much too casual as he finishes greasing a cookie sheet and moves to combine butter and water in a saucepan. “How about you, Jungkook?”   “Never been better.” The side of his lip is curled. Jungkook’s black long sleeve is pushed up to his elbows to reveal his forearms, and one peek at him is enough to feel your blood boil. It’s obvious that he doesn’t see you as a threat whatsoever.   “You think you’re going to win?”   “Unfortunately, I do.” Jungkook plays along with Taehyung’s antics, head so far up in the clouds.   “Why unfortunately?”   “Well, it’s not everyday I want to crush my girlfriend, but sometimes I just have to.” Jungkook twists to you. “Sorry, babe.”   You ignore him, too busy glancing at the label and dumping the chocolate into a small bowl with butter. In the meanwhile, Yoongi chews on his chips and scrutinizes. “Are you sure that’s the right kind?”   “Fuck off, Yoongi.”   It’s not like you haven’t done this before — you’re just not sure if yours can ever beat Jungkook’s.   You whisk in the six egg yolks and add a pinch of sea salt until the melted mixture thickens. At the same time, Jungkook is singing under his breath, forming his pastry dough and piping it out onto his baking sheet.   You don’t know how he works so fast, but you concentrate harder, ignoring Jimin asking Yuna if she likes the place so far, disregarding Yoongi’s snarky comments and Hoseok’s music that he turns on as background noise.   Once you place egg whites and half a teaspoon of cream of tartar in the electric mixer to beat, you’re finally able to take a moment of relief. Jungkook is also at his mixer beating his heavy cream for the filing. “Nervous, babe?”   You scoff at him. “As if.”   “Alright then.” Jungkook smirks, almost as if he finds your snobbery endearing.   You hate how he can see right through you, but you still maintain the facade anyhow. At this moment, he was your rival first and your boyfriend second.   “It smells so good.” Yuna inhales.   Aeri smiles at her. “That would be Jungkook's choux pastry in the oven.”   “Who do you think is going to win?” Taehyung suddenly asks the high schooler, thrusting the whisk in front of her.   She smiles gingerly. “I don’t know. Who do you think will win?”   Taehyung hums and ignores the protest of his friend when he says— “I’ll put my money on Y/N.”   “Want to bet on it then?” Yuna asks, lashes batting back and forth. “Loser takes the other person to dinner.”   “What about you, Chim?” Taehyung immediately diverts his vision, pretending that he doesn’t hear her deal. He even disregards Aeri and Hoseok’s stunned expressions of Yuna’s forwardness. “Who do you think?”   You add the sugar carefully, one tablespoon at a time until the egg whites hold glossy, stiff peaks. Then you’re gently folding the egg whites into your soufflé base until it’s a light and fluffy mixture ready to be put into the ramekins. But you know it’s too basic.    It would never beat Jungkook’s.   So in the midst of your inner hysteria, you sprinkle in a teaspoon of cinnamon and nutmeg. Yoongi, the only person who’s actually watching, quirks his brow but doesn’t say anything.   The soufflés are popped into the oven and by then, Jungkook is still working.    He’s letting his pastries cool on a rack, his filling already in a piping bag, and he’s busy making the icing.   “How do you feel now, Y/N?”   “The same.” You shrug. “I know I’m going to win, so…”   Your boyfriend lifts his chin, a small smirk gracing his lips. “We’ll see about that.”   “You aren’t intimidated whatsoever?” Taehyung asks. “I mean Jungkook’s soufflé was fucking deli—cious. It was like gooey on the inside and so soft, but really crispy on the outside and very, very chocolatey. It felt like an explosion of flavour—”   “Alright.” You shut him up and move over to steal Yoongi’s bag of chips, much to his dismay.   In the few minutes that you finally get to sit down and rest, you observe Jungkook.   In spite of his arrogance, he’s working quite hard. You’re impressed he agreed to make éclairs in just an hour and a half since it usually takes two. But Jungkook works quickly, efficiently, and your eyes can’t help lingering on his exposed forearms, the furrow of his brows, the tip of his tongue peeking out of his pink lips.   God. As competitive as you are, a part of you doesn’t even care who wins — you already feel like a winner.   The beeping of your oven breaks you out of your daydream.   “You should wipe off your saliva,” Yoongi mutters out of the corner of his mouth, knowing full well that you were ogling Jungkook in silence. You glare at the dark-haired man, a silent threat not to say anything lest it becomes clear you have other priorities other than winning.   You take your soufflés out of the oven, breathing a sigh of relief when you see them.   They all rose. A few with them have cracks and they’re not uniform whatsoever, but it’s more than you hoped for.   The aroma of chocolate fills the room, making Yuna antsy in her seat.   You begin dusting the top with powdered sugar.   “Two minutes left, chefs,” Hoseok warns with a grin, peeking over at Taehyung’s timer.   Jungkook is long finished piping his éclairs, already drizzled the chocolate icing over top of it and allowing them to set in the fridge. You step back from your counter as well. “I’m done.”   “Same here.”   “Finally!” Yuna is cheering. “Can we taste them now?”   You’re the first to go since the soufflés are still piping hot. It’s six servings with Yuna receiving the first one since she’s the guest of honour. Then the rest are passed to Taehyung, Yoongi, Jimin, Hoseok, Aeri. They dig in without hesitation and you watch with your breath hitched.   “It’s really good,” Hoseok says, chewing in his cheek.   “I like it a lot.” Aeri smiles. “You did a good job, Y/N.”   “Thanks.” Even if you don’t win, you feel great at your attempt.   Yuna hisses when it burns her tongue and she hums after letting it cool. There doesn’t seem to be any complaints from anyone.   “The top can be crustier. It’s baked well through though,” Yoongi notes pompously after sniffing his spoonful for the past minute to take in the scent. “Not half bad.”   “But is it better than Jungkook’s?” Taehyung asks.   It’s silent. No one can give a blatant answer. Jungkook is appalled that they even need to think about it.   “Give me that.” He grabs Jimin’s and takes a spoonful. Jungkook bites, chews, and his brows furrow. “What...is that? There's something in there that’s weird. Like the aftertaste is off.”   In hindsight, cinnamon and nutmeg probably wasn’t the best idea. But you don’t say anything and you plop your hand on Yoongi’s shoulder as an implicit warning not to speak about it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”   It’s your turn to take a taste and the moment it hits your tongue, you know the outcome.   It’s miles and miles away from Jungkook’s standards. Your soufflé is good, but not crying-worthy. It doesn’t bring tears to your eyes and make you remember your mother’s home cooking, how you gathered around the table for dessert during warm holidays.   The situation only gets shittier when you take a taste of Jungkook’s éclair. The custard is tangy and smooth, pastry crispy and buttery, chocolate icing sweet at all the right places. And all you can think is — what. the. fuck.    This guy had to have a cheat code for life. There’s no way he can be so good at everything he does. It’s impossible. It’s unbelievable. It’s unfair.   “What do you think?” Jungkook stares at you in particular, trying to gauge your reaction.   You swallow hard, managing a half-hearted shrug. “It’s decent.”   It’s clear with his smile he can see you’re trying to hide your true feelings. “Want me to save you seconds?”   “I’m fine.” You wave your hand at him, despite your heart saying otherwise. It causes Jungkook to chuckle, but he doesn’t push to spare your pride.   It’s hard to tell if his éclair is better than yours — but the mere fact that Jungkook hadn’t even had time to perfect his recipe or practice yet made it this good has your knees weak. You’re glad you don’t have him as your competition on a daily basis anymore.   “This is pretty good,” Yuna admits, licking off her fingers.   Yoongi seems to be enjoying it as well, eating quietly as he studies it. Hoseok is making noises at the back of his throat and Taehyung nods in approval. “Have you only made this once before?” Jimin asks.   “Once or twice. Can’t remember.” Jungkook grins and that’s even more impressive.   You’re conflicted of being proud of having such a talented boyfriend and being spiteful of him as a rival.   Eventually, Taehyung dismisses the two of you for the rest of them to ‘deliberate’ and judge.    You step out into the hallway and Jungkook throws his arm over your shoulder, pulling you close.   “Don’t be too sad when you lose, babe. I’ll comfort you with my golden trophy.”   “There is no trophy.”   “Hmmm, how about a kiss then?” His nose bumps against you, smiling wide.   You feign a pout. “I’ll think about it.”   “Alright, love birds.” Taehyung pokes his head out of the door in less than two minutes. “We’ve made our decision.”   You gather back together again. All of them are pretending to be very experienced pâtisserie chefs with decades of experience. It’s both an amusing and lame sight — but you don’t comment in case they decide to deduct your points and Jimin grins, reading off the paper he has in front of him.   “Y/N, your chocolate soufflé was very moist and delectable. It had the perfect amount of sweetness. We found your techniques to be very competent and proficient. The presentation was great. The texture was very soft and the flavour was very deep. The aftertaste, on the other hand, was unique and different. It caused many to continue tasting to pinpoint what it was. You obviously accomplished what you set out to do and you made a very tasty dessert.” Jimin clears his throat. “And Jungkook, your éclair was alright.”   “Y/N wins,” Yuna announces with giddy laughter, arms in the air.   “Wait.” Jungkook frowns. “What?”   “Me?” You point to yourself, starting to laugh. “I won!”   “It was a consensus,” Taehyung spits in the midst of giggles.   “This is obviously rigged!” Jungkook protests loudly.   “Don’t be a sore loser.” Hoseok shouts and the rest ignore his outcry.   Yoongi nods in approval. “Congratulations, Y/N.”   You put your hand over your heart. “Thank you.”   You didn’t plan this — maybe they were sick of Jungkook’s ego too or maybe they just thought it would be hilarious to see his reaction, but whatever the case may be, you’re glad that they have your back.   You lean over to your boyfriend, giving a brief peck on his pouting lips.   “This is so rigged,” he mutters, less upset after your kiss.   You smile at him and quirk your head to the side. “Life’s rigged, sweetheart. But tell me, how does it feel to be in a relationship with the best chocolatier on Earth?”   Jungkook scoffs, a grin spreads into his face.   //   Informal baking competitions are all fun and games, but it’s not so much at the end when there’s a mountain of dishes to wash in the sink and a whole kitchen to clean. The others have long left after satisfying their sweet tooths, so you and Jungkook have been hard at work yet again.   But in the midst of wiping down the counters, your eyes stray to Jungkook’s pastries.   He’s stepped out for a moment, so you take the opportunity swiftly by its throat.   You lurch across the floor and grab an éclair to eat.    But as you’re stuffing your face as fast as you can while relishing in the deliciousness, you don’t notice the man creeping up on you.   “Having those seconds, huh?”   You’re scared shitless, jolting, and you whirl around to see Jungkook with his shit eating grin that just screams ‘I knew it’. You’ve been caught in the act. There’s no denying it now.   All you can do is swallow your mouthful.   “So you liked it that much? You should’ve just admitted it from the start, Y/N. You know I can read you like an open book—”   You grab Jungkook by the back of his neck and pull him in for a smothering kiss, just to shut him up. It’s a slow kiss, one where he cleans the cream off your lips and tastes the sugar on your tongue.   It’s ambiguous who the real winner is. When you pull apart, you know you both feel like it.   “Happy?”   Jungkook laughs, nose scrunched and eyes crinkled. “Very.��

[revasserium]

beauty as a perspective (or a study of truth through the lens of a boy who has always believed in fairy-tales)

anon: And it is beautiful with Hinata First love with kageyama? Please :) 

101. and it is beautiful hinata ; 1.8k words

there are so many things he considers to be beautiful -- the sunrise, the sunsets, the way the moon lingers on the horizon after a whole midsummer’s night, like it’s waiting for the first rays of sunlight to spill across the world, the way the stars are relentless in their twinkling, as if emboldened by the darkness that beholds their very beings -- that they are made all the brighter by night’s all-consuming dark. 

there are other things too -- a well-aimed spike, crystal cut and down the line, right next to the pole, a perfectly arched toss, slow enough for thought, but too fast for the opponents to follow, the double-rolling saves that noya-sempai had promised to teach him and still hasn’t gotten around to, the way a clean sneaker sounds against the well-waxed floor of a freshly cleaned gym, the sound of a volleyball meeting skin, the flutter of a net, the chorus of voices as it echoes towards the ceiling. 

the cheers of the crowds when a point gets scored. when a match is won. 

the weight of happiness, so light and yet so, so heavy too, enough to make his bones feel like they’re filled with gold or silver or maybe magic itself. he thinks there’s nothing more beautiful than playing... and winning. 

until he meets you. 

your name breezes through him like a summer wind through wheat, leaving no part of him unruffled and untouched, all this thoughts tangled and out of ordered, but so beautifully so. he watches you go like a child watching the end of a really good dream, powerless to stop it, but still with the naïve hope that perhaps, if he just kept his eyes open (or closed) for a moment longer, maybe, just maybe you’ll stay -- 

“hinata-kun, its your turn to help clean the classrooms.” 

he snaps out of his reverie (did you know that’s the word for daydream in french? how fitting, right? and when tsukki had asked, drop-jawed and all, where the hell hinata had learned such a thing, all he could do was shrug and blush and say he’d read it somewhere -- to tsukki’s compounded shock and confoundment), the teacher is watching him with a hiked eyebrow, and half the class was giggling. but you, you’re standing next to his desk with a sweet, expectant smile and he’s lost all over again. 

(who was he, anyway? before he knew what your smile looked like? what your voice sounds like? what the color of your hair was beneath the morning sun, or in the golden glow of dusk?) 

“let’s do our best, hm?” you offer him your hand. 

hinata had never wished for after class chores to last forever, but he has now. 

he doesn’t know how you get onto the topic of volleyball, but it always ends up there somehow... with him -- and he finds himself rambling like he always does when he’s nervous, blabbing out an invite because yeah! it’s pretty cool! and there’s a practice match today! and oh, yeah! i’m on the starting lineup and of course you can come watch! i’m super awesome y’know! -- 

and then the horrifying, daunting realization that he’s going to have to play. with you watching him. with your eyes, like pools of amber so deep and clear they remind him of melted caramel during the holiday school fairs, with your smile like tasting a favorite treat after a long, hard day’s practice, with your laughter and your voice like -- like -- 

“what’s this? hinata’s brought a friend?” there’s something in the texture of suga-sempai’s voice that hinata isn’t sure he likes but he’s too nervous to call it out at the moment. instead, he tries desperately to explain why the hell he’d brought you along, not that he’s really sure either, other than the fact that he doesn’t ever want you to leave his sight ever again in his whole life but, well, he can’t really say that out loud without sounding like a freak -- 

“uh -- it’s not -- i mean, yeah! we’re friends! i think so at least -- well anyway -- ahhhhh -- she likes volleyball and there’s a practice match today and i told her she could come and watch cause i’m really awesome at it and she just moved here from tokyo, or actually she stayed in france for a while before that! can you believe it? hey -- wait do you know kenma from nekoma? they’re from tokyo too, right --?” 

kageyama fixes him with a flatlined look even as you smile. 

“she’s not from the same school, idiot.” 

hinata puffs up as he turns to kageyama but thankfully, daichi is there to pull them apart before things get really nasty. he flashes you a sincere and somewhat apologetic grin. 

“ah, thanks for coming. you can find a seat up there, and uhm -- welcome to karasuno.” 

hinata finds himself watching you go (he nearly yells when you wave at him from the second level, that is until kageyama elbows him so hard in the side he actually does yell). 

“focus, boke!” 

“shut up, crappyama!” 

“ha? what did you say?” 

“both of you, quiet!” 

they both flinch at the sound of daichi’s voice. 

but hinata can’t help stealing another glance towards you, thinking that this feels different, somehow. different than all the other practice matches he’s played before. it’s like his vision is sharper, all his senses on high alert -- he can smell the sweat on his teammates’ skin, can see each spec of light as it refracts off of the newly waxed gym floors, can feel the weight of your eyes on him like a superhero’s cloak -- beautiful and full of responsibility. 

and he plays well that day, he thinks -- got a few really solid quick’s in, and he only messed up on two of his serves, which, all things considered, is probably a record low for him. kageyama only yelled at him five times, also on the low side. 

they manage to scrape a win, and it was mostly asahi-san’s doing -- noya-sempai being awesome as ever, too. still, he thinks it’s been a good day. he almost forgets that you’re watching for a while, but only for a while, and as the match draws to a close, he’s again keenly aware of your eyes on him. 

he turns to grin up at you, shooting you a thumbs up. he finds you no longer sitting, but standing by the railings, your eyes huge and happy as you wave down at him. there’s a flush to your face that makes him want to walk off a bridge right into a very, very cold river but he shelves that thought for later as you make your way down the stairs, jogging right up to him, your smile so brilliant he thinks he might go blind if he stared too long. 

he blinks, still dripping sweat down his now very wet uniform. 

“shouyou! you were amazing! i mean, you are amazing --!” 

he almost jolts at your use of his given name, but then he remembers you asking (because you liked the sound of it or something; he’d forgotten what you said after that cause he was too busy marinating in the fact that you liked the sound of his name) if you could call him that. and him saying yes. 

“for a while there it looked like you were flying, like really flying!” 

he nods along with your excitement, his smile growing so wide his cheeks are starting to hurt and god, what what happen if he just kept on smiling wider and wider? what would happen to his face? would it stretch and keep on stretching? or maybe he’ll accidentally split his face in half and have to get stitches from the hospital, which wouldn’t be fun but for you, he thinks, it’s worth it. 

“y-yeah! cool! right?” he leaps ups as if to illustrate, but as with all things he does on a spur of the moment impulse, it doesn’t go quite as planned. he ends up smacking his head on the doorframe of double gym doors, leaving him whining, curled up into a ball on the ground, and you kneeling by his side. 

“shouyou? are -- are you okay? oh my god, what happened?” 

he winces as he pushes himself up into a sitting position, grinning awkwardly up at you. 

“i wanted to show you!” 

“show me what?” 

“what it looks like to fly!” 

tanaka is fussing over hinata, loudly asking if he’ll get a concussion while tsukki is remarking to that getting a concussion might be good for him; noya and tanaka are both laughing so hard they’re also curled up on the ground. 

you giggle, “save some flying for next time.” 

“for... next time?” 

“yeah, for the next time you play.” 

“will... will you be there?” 

you smile, nodding, offering him a hand. 

“if you want me to be.” 

“yes! yeah -- oh man, i do! i really really --” 

“good, then i’ll be there.” 

“aahh, that’s amazing! super great! ahhhh i’m so --- mmmm -- i’m so happy!” 

he leaps up and is about to jump up again before he realizes you hadn’t let go of his hand yet. 

he blinks, heat washing up his face like jumping head-first into a steaming onsen. 

“hey! you said you’d save some for next time, right?” 

hinata laughs, “right -- for next time.” 

you give his hand a squeeze before letting go, turning to greet his teammates. hinata watches you, like he’s been doing from the second he’d set eyes on you a week and a half ago, when you’d introduced yourself to the class. 

like when he’d all too enthusiastically volunteered to show you around the school, like when the pair of you had stopped in the library, and you’d run your fingers along the spines of all the books like greeting old friends. 

like when you flipped open a book of fairy-tales and traced the outline of a boy with melting wax wings, plummeting from the sky. 

“you know, i used to always daydream about flying as a kid,” you said. 

hinata quirked his head, “why?” 

you smiled, “dunno, seemed like a fun thing to do.” 

hinata smiled then too, “well, it’s not that hard.” 

you looked at him, “you... know how to fly?” 

“sure i do!” 

you laughed, then, but not a mocking kind of laugh -- a delighted, dancing kind of laugh that made hinata’s whole chest fill with hot air and helium. 

“you promise to show me some day?” 

hinata had nodded so hard his head might’ve come right off it’s hinges. 

“hey, what’s ‘daydream’ in french?” he asked. 

you blink at him, “reverie.” 

“wow... beautiful.” 

you laughed again, nodding, “it is, isn’t it?” 

and he decides then, watching as you smile at something suga-sempai says, as you quirk your head curiously at kageyama, making him flush a hilarious shade of crimson as well, that sure, there are a lot of beautiful things in this world. 

but none of them quite so beautiful as you. 

[goldafterglow]

Headcanons on Ezra and/or Frankie not feeling good enough for their S/O and their S/O comforting them?

A/N: first of all these are definitely a choice I made and it’s okay; second of all, why did this take me all day to write haskghfdj but I did both Ezra and Frankie bc I was having a soft Frankie moment; third of all I literally did not read though this so it’s probably full of typos and redundant words but fuck me

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: angst, fluff?, soft!hours bitch everyday is soft hours on this blog, the same thing twice except it’s not the same thing at all but it is lol, some quality ass lines going to waste in a headcanon but I loved writing this so it’s okay

Ezra

he absolutely feels this way when he falls in love after losing his arm

Assuming his right hand was his dominant one, he was nearly sobbing from the emotional loss. Ezra thinks a lot, he assigns musings to inanimate objects like books and buttons and arms, because he wants the believe there is beauty in everything, that everything has meaning.

Feeling things is very important to him. The texture of a tree trunk, the cooling glitter of river water, the bumps on your skin. When he says “no love too intimidating,” he definitely means how his right arm holds his most intimate secrets.

He wants to love you to his fullest capacity, love you with his whole body and every last molecule of his tattered soul because you deserve so much more but that’s all he has to offer.

Ezra gets touchy when he’s feeling less than. It’s difficult to notice if you don’t pay careful attention; he is touchy enough on its own. But his insecurities rear its ugly head in the most timid of ways: a kiss that lingers for just a moment more, a hug that lasts a second longer, a nuzzle that travels deeper into your neck than you thought possible. Because he doesn’t know how to compensate for that arm, that missing piece of him.

Ezra is a very honest man; it’s hard for him to keep his emotions in his chest for them to rot and suppurate in the swollen heat. So he’ll probably ask you if you think he’s enough in more ways than one.

It’s confusing to you at first; Ezra has always been somewhat of an enigma, always saying so much and yet the meaning behind his words is so complex that you couldn’t begin to comprehend how the stars over his head cross each other.

“Won’t you lay here with me, my starlight?” and “Just one more kiss, butterfly,” and “Can’t an enamored man tell his muse that he is in such a state?”

And it’s hard for you to say no to him when he looks at you with his pathetic doe eyes, begging you to let him love on you.

But as his doubts grow, his questions begin to concern you.

“Dandelion, you’re happy here aren’t you? With me?”

It breaks your heart to see him so lost, feeling to destitute.

But Ezra trusts you, gives you his whole essence because he doesn’t believe you’d ever want to hurt him, so it’s just a matter of cooing “sweet boy, of course I’m happy. Ezra, you make me happy.”

Or even telling him that “pretty poet, you just being is enough” and that “your existence is a gift in its own, Ezra”

It takes time, requires cycles for him to learn that his love for you is not tied to a limb, attached to anything physical. His love is misty, a cotton candy fog that fills your atmosphere and enters your lungs, melting down to sugar so that you can hear it rattle when you breathe.

But he learns.

Frankie

our beautiful angel bottom

Frankie always feels like he’s taking from you.

You’re so good to him, so loving, and he has spent his time with you letting the little moments with you add up.

He has the ability to recognize every little second of time you spare for him: bringing him take out after he’s had a long day, letting him drive you far off to the ridged edges of the earth so he has a human cushion to hold while he star gazes, sitting in his lap in the backseat of his truck during a drive-thru movie doing anything but watching.

You’re a lot for him, you give him so much, and he doubts that he filling your cup in the same way you empty it. The way you empty yourself into him.

Frankie’s not the best at communicating his problems. He likes to hold things in, to sit and observe and hold his own thoughts until he bursts and his words sting as they leave his lips. He lets his insecurities build, develop in a static silence that he thinks he can resolve on his own because he doesn’t want to burden you more, dump even more of his baggage onto you.

When he gets like this, when he’s festering, he gets distant. It only ever aggravates the issue, rubbing sandpaper on a sunburn and rolling coins into a stab wound, but he’s afraid of offending you. He’s scared of pushing you away.

Frankie’s words do not come in a million small drops of rain, a thousand dainty freckles peppered along cheekbones. Frankie feels like he is the storm, the flood, the monsoon, and that when his feelings flow they crash onto the ground and destroy homes in his path and uproot trees buried deep in the Earth.

He doesn’t tell you until you confront him, asking him why he’s been so distant. Asking him if everything’s okay.

And he can’t lie to you like that, he can’t tell you that there isn’t anything wrong, because something is wrong and it’s with him.

He’s barely able to get out a “Baby I-” before his throat constricts, choking out the flames of his sweet voice. He always tries to be delicate with you.

You have you hold him in your arms for a little bit, give him a safe space to collect himself and pull his shit together because he can’t believe he’s putting this on you, drawing pity out of you.

You’re tender with him, not that it’s hard. Holding him is like balancing a scared puppy in your hands; how could you ever hurt it, be rough or mean towards it?

Telling him that “it’s okay, baby, I promise I can handle it.”

Once his thundering has quieted and the lightning stops striking, he musters to courage to tell you that “I know I don’t deserve you. Just - please, take me as I am.”

Your heart fills with his pain, pins pushing out the walls from the inside. You had no idea.

 But with a little “I think you deserve everything Frankie” and a little “baby, if I took all of you I think I’d drown,” and even something as simple as “Francisco Morales, you have always been enough,” he feels universes better.

It doesn’t take much for him to back to that sweet, soft man that loves you so kindly.

Your gentle giant.

Tags: @mrsparknuts @girlwithanewplan @mrschiltoncat @agentpike

i’m still figuring my tags bc I’m a mess but child anyways here’s the link for my tags bc WOW pls just take it because I added a question about fics/drabbles/headcanons which is why I’m having hot girl problems rn

[m-y-fandoms]

Korekiyo Shinguuji x oblivious crush reader - short imagine

Request: could i request some headcanons or an imagine (whichever you prefer, i’m not picky lol) for Korekiyo with a crush on an incredibly oblivious female reader who never realizes he’s trying to flirt with her/trying to see if she likes him back? sorry if this is a weird request haha :,)

THIS ISN’T A WEIRD REQUEST, KIYO IS MY BABY DADDY. Also you requested female reader, but I wrote this with a female in mind and then realized I never used any feminine-assigned words or pronouns in here, so anyone can read this with themselves in mind! - Mod Kokichi

Warnings: PG-13 in terms of sexual/romantic scenarios and wording

     “So, in essence, that is why the Egyptians worshipped Hathor, in all her grace and beauty. Isn’t that fascinating, y/n?” Korekiyo mused, watching you carefully as you waltzed through the rows of scrolls and ancient texts in his research lab.

     “Yes, it’s a wonderful story! You really are lucky to have traveled to Eygpt! Heck, I’d never even left Japan until...well coming to wherever we are trapped now. Do you mind?” You pointed to a particularly intricate and elaborate book cover on a high up shelf.

     “Not at all, my dear. Feel free to take any materials from my lab that you wish, as long as you promise I can visit your lab freely as well?” You let the words ‘my dear’ ghost over your ears with little to no reaction. Normally, if such a handsome man had playfully rolled those words off of his tongue in your direction, your neck hairs would have stood on end like a startled cat, but with Korekiyo it was different. You did harbor some...feelings for him, but he called everyone dear, right? He was always spewing mature and polite crap like that.

     “Yeah, of course, though I don’t know why an anthropologist would ever waste his time in a plain old dance studio,” you chuckled, on your tip-toes struggling for the tome far above you. Korekiyo snuck up behind you, his chest warm against your back as he reached up and plucked the book down for you, placing it gently in your hands. You held the book to your own chest and turned to face him, finding yourself flush against the wooden bookshelf with the lanky anthropologist trapping you in place. “Thanks, Kiyo!” You felt blood rush to your cheeks as he tilted his head at you like a curious puppy hearing the word ‘treat!’ You tried to settle your stuttering heart. Surely he was just being nice, right?

     “Think nothing of it…” his hands came up slowly on either side of your head, caging you in between his slender arms. “You know, y/n, Hathor is known mainly for her impressive duality. She balances femininity and softness with strength and vengeance. She is a protector, but also is the harbinger of dance, joy, love...sexuality.” His voice deepened into a rasp that was like melted chocolate flowing freely over your ears. His proximity was beginning to make you dizzy. “You remind me of Hathor in many ways. I see the way you take care of your friends here, the way you defend people, but also the with which you dance: the water-like movements of your passion.”

     “...” you stood there, silent for a moment, and then another moment, and then another. He looked at your expectantly, his expression unreadable through his mask. “Well, thanks, Kiyo! I never thought you’d be into ballet! Though I guess dance is a part of culture as much as anything else!” You ducked under his arm with a chipper attitude, shuffling into the open space of his lab, and he sighed deeply, looking at the ground in self-pity. Were you really not interested in him? He couldn’t blame you. Many people saw him as a creep, a pariah. He was a teenager that wore a mask at all times for crying out loud. He endlessly spewed random facts and unsolicited folk tales. Of course people avoided him. But you...you visited him every day. Before his lab opened up, you met with him in the library and inquired about his day. You asked him to eat lunch with you, and walk you back to the dorms after dinner. You asked to hear his stories, and he found himself growing to like you more and more. He didn’t want to admit his feelings until he knew for sure that you felt the same, but it was looking like his old friend, rejection, might win the war once again.

     “Kiyo, this lab is simply amazing! You’re so lucky... you got the biggest one yet! My studio looks like a janitor’s closet compared to this!” You spun around on the new floor on his lab, taking in the sights, book in hand. You’d been here every day since it opened, but dedicated yourself to one section a day, having only reached this floor earlier that evening. You thought knowledge like this deserved time and respect. Korekiyo agreed of course.

     “Well when one’s area of study is the entire world, a proportionately large area is needed for said study,” he drawled, slinking along behind you as you sat in a chair on the main floor. He sat in the chair across from you in front of the wall of display cases holding ceremonial swords and masks as you fingered through the book in wonder.

     “Woah…” your eyes widened innocently.

     “Ahhh, the Kama Sutra? You’re holding one of the oldest copies known to man.” He leaned closer to you, splaying his fingers over the page you were on slowly and seductively. “I had no idea you were this kind of person, y/n…” there’s that confectionary tone again, sweet and dripping with carnal desire.

     “N-no of course not I just...what kind of person do you mean? I mean...I think the book is just interesting, the cover and the design on the spine drew me in and-“

     “We should never judge a book based on its cover, yes?” He let his honeyed-words sink in to your doe-like eyes, “I think human beings, much like this book, hide things within our pages not immediately evident on our covers.”

     “I agree…” his words flew right over your head. “Like you! I didn’t know you had an interest in ballet at all!” He was starting to get frustrated, but he exhaled deeply, his inner voice telling him to have patience.

     “Well, yes, I’ve seen many different forms of dance, and of course, ballet is delicate and breath-taking, but also very strenuous. Another thing we shouldn’t take at face value. I’ve seen the feet of many a poor dancer after a performance, and it really is a harsh contrast to the grace of the dance itself.”

     “Yes, yes! You get it!” He smiled at your child-like wonder, with you seeing only the crinkle of his eyes above the mask. “I know so many men who don’t even think dance of any kind can be a sport. I think many so-called atheletes would give up on day one of ballet lessons.” You chuckled, and he let himself be enveloped in your laughter. He was complete entranced in your aura.

     “So, you will allow me to view your ballet practice in private some time? I’ve seen you with your lab door open in passing, but I would be absolutely delighted if you’d honor me with a private session, so I could focus on you and only you.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his long raven hair falling around him like a bed canopy.

     “Oh, Kiyo…” you began, your own heart hurting at the words you were about the speak, but it was for the best. You didn’t want to waste his time, not in a place like this. “I know you’re interested in ballet, but after those first two trials and this whole not-knowing-when-we-are-gonna-die thing, I don’t think it would be a worthy use of your time to pull yourself away from all of this,” you gestured to the gigantic room around you, “in order to-”

     “Y/N-!” He spoke angrily and abruptly, startling you, before composing himself and beginning again, taking the book from your hand and instead intertwining his fingers in your own. “...I am not interested in ballet, so much as I am interested in you. Do you understand?” You felt your body tense up in complete shock. He wasn’t serious right…? He was teasing you, taking advantage of your naïveté and your obvious feelings for him. Maybe you weren’t hiding them as well as you’d thought.

     “Me…?” You looked at his wrapped hand in yours, the bandages scratchy texture pulling you back down to earth.

     “Yes, you.” He spoke bluntly, with nothing but compassion in his voice.

     “But you’re...you’re so…” he braced himself, waiting for the insults and degrading comments that always followed when he let his walls down around normal people.

     “...Odd? Long-winded? A freak of nature?” He sighed, pulling away.

     “Beautiful…” you could hardly hear your own words pouring from your mouth, the pounding of your heart beat too loud in your ears. You grabbed his hand, and in a moment of fragile silence, began to unwrap the linen that covered every inch of his fingers, then down to his palms and wrists. His hands, now revealed to you fully for the first time, were just as beautiful as his voice and cat-like golden eyes. They were pale, ghostly, ethereal. They looked like they could break at the slightest touch, but withstand any hard labor that was thrown at them at the same time. “Korekiyo, you spend so much time telling others that humanity is beautiful, that you haven’t taken the time to see it in yourself, have you? At least...not for a long while.”

     “Y/N, I-” you reached for the top of his mask with shaking fingers, and he jerked away roughly, terrified. When you reached out again, he didn’t move, steeling himself to be exposed to you. You deserved to see the truth. His eyelids fluttered closed, and his heart dropped into his stomach.

     Your fingertips lingered at the top of the mask before tugging it down gently. He kept his eyes shut tightly as you observed his full face.

     The tip of his nose, which you could tell from the nose bridge was thin, came to an adorable point above his lips. A delicate, milky white chin led up on either side to a sharp jawline, high cheekbones and a flawless complexion. That powdery complexion was met in stark contrast to the blood-red pigment of a matte lipstick staining his lips.

     “Y/N, I didn’t want you to see me...truly see me for the first time like thi-” you brought your lips closer to his until they were touching, and soon found yourself leaning into his chest, into his lap in his seated position in front of you. Your lips pressed into his, a bit more bold now, and your confidence spurred his own. You now straddled his hips, your legs on either side of his thighs, and he grabbed your hips, his hands shaking like a leaf in the wind. He pulled back, scanning your face for any regret, any shame or fear, and sensing none, crashed his lips onto yours again. He roughly sucked on your bottom lip, pulling a small moan from your mouth that excited him more than anything corporeal had in a long time. You never thought he’d be such a good kisser.

     “Korekiyo…” you pulled back again, giving you both some much-needed air. “I never thought that...someone like you would even glance my way. You’re so intelligent, so regal and elegant and different from the norm and…” your words trailed off, and his thumb reached up to your lips, roughly wiping away the red lipstick that clung onto your face as a reminder that he had been there.

     “Likewise, y/n,” he reclined back into the chair with you still on his lap, a little too cocky and cheeky for his own good, but to say the smirk on his messy red mouth wasn’t turning you on would be a lie.