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screampied · 5 months

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❛ SWEET TOOTH! ❜

synopsis. geto's got a sweet tooth for his pretty partner in culinary arts. rumor has it gojo wants a taste too. the two chefs compete on which one can make you cream the most.

total wc. 5.8k

warnings. satosugu x fem!reader, college au, squirting, (geto) eats it from the back, double penetration, unprotected s*x, dumbfication, dirty talk, oral (fixation), overstim, them basically fighting over you.

an. wrote this bc…i'm hungry </3 random stsg brain rot lawl

“you're a fine cook, you know?”

your eyebrows raised as both of your hands rested against the edge of the laminate-glassed counter.

taking off your toque to give geto direct eye contact, he continued to speak. “i still think your banana pudding was the best.”

“oh, thank you,” you mumbled, and geto stood tall - the size difference was truly immaculate.

broad shoulders yet a very much lean body.

he had his hands buried and dug into the holes of his pockets, flipping the apron near his white coat to the side before giving you a soft smile. “i wish i could have tried your desert, chef kept rushing everyone to clean up earlier.”

“you still can,” geto mutters, and you stare up at him. his voice was somewhat teasing but stoic.

his body language was simply suave…he leaned against the counter as he spoke before making a few inches towards you. his eyes trail down, and his thumb swiftly swipes against the side of your cheek—excess sweet cream of his infamous banana pudding. “it still has its flavor. vanilla, my personal favorite.”

he was so close to you, his body heat practically radiated against you, not literally though.

you were deep in thought as he was directly propped up beside you.

“may i…?”

he's got his dessert in hand, and it was a slice of vanilla cake—neatly decorated at the top with a cherry topping, just a good enough glance and your mouth is damn near watering. it’s decadent with sweet cream and icing, you nearly forgot how to speak.

“yeah.. yeah...yes please.”

you didn’t even realize how needy you sounded, just a few inches of your tongue and you’d be licking your lips.

geto cups a hand over your chin—his dark focused gaze, pretty lashes of his fluttering throughout each blink. he scoops a good amount from the stainless-steeled fork, and brings it towards your glimmering plump lips.

“open a little for me, pretty.”

his voice, it was a mere whisper…

as you parted your lips slightly for him to press the fork inside, the piece of cake now going onto your tongue—you couldn’t deny, just those words alone had you feeling a certain type of way. geto's eyes never left yours, in fact, the soft back of his thumb pad was continuously gently stroking the side of your mouth.

the taste of the cake, just amazing.

dramatic was a good enough word to depict for you because as soon as the icing slicked against your lips—the pure flavor, the sweet sweet vanilla mixed with a single dash of vanilla extract, the cavity-coated sugary taste, and oh… cinnamon.

“mhm…”

you paused, feeling a heatwave of utter embarrassment wash over you. you let off the most dirtiest moan imaginable. all from a taste of cake from geto. the smile remains on his near perfect crooked lips before he hums, placing the fork aside.

“you must really enjoy it, huh?”

even his chuckle was sexy, such bass in his voice was enough to have you soaked right underneath your formal kitchen attire—directly underneath your apron, he couldn’t see but your legs were squeezed shut together, tight.

“yeah, it’s um..good.”

“just…good?” he teases, his long gorgeous dark strands of hair was down…flawlessly dancing over his broad shoulders. some strands cutely poking through his own toque top-hat. his eyes were nearly fucking you on its own.

eyes half closed, seducing.

“ah wait. you have more icing on your mouth. tsk, you’re so messy...”

geto leans in, his thumb still strokes and strokes against your mouth before he leans in—and you nearly slip out a whine from his teasing he was. you were about to open your mouth before he raises his brows.

“just say it. i don’t have to use my fingers to clean your mouth, princess.”

just from those words alone was enough to have you dripping between your thighs, your hands gripped against the back edges of the counter before you spoke in a soft shaky voice. “…kiss me, suguru. please.”

“open.”

as soon as he leaned in to kiss you, you immediately moaned, feeling the slow and sensual swirly lick he made just from his tongue.

he laps up the tiny remnants of creamy icing that was just near the side of your mouth. only before focusing himself on your lips now, the kiss was tasty just like the ingredients of his cake.

geto's got one hand on your chin, another on your waist. you’re propped against the counter and he’s so warm…

you could taste the sweetness of his dessert on his tongue, he takes a few seconds to depart from your lips—dragging a tongue gently and slowly from your mouth to your neck.

“you taste so good.” he huffs out, his voice was low, creating kiss trails near your collarbone and you moaned before he went back up kiss you. geto’s strong manly cologne scent wafts against your nose as you tug on his chef cpat, desperate for more than just his sweet tongue.

“yo, suguru do we have anymore—”

the both of you broke away immensely at the sound of a familiar voice, no one another than gojo satoru.

great.

he’s got quite the look on his face, wearing loose sweatpants. his apron was half on and he looked insanely attractive even while dressed down.

a sudden smug grin appears on his face. “oh…!” he says dramatically, hands of his going right on his hips, “pft. is this why you didn’t wanna hang after culinary suguru? you decided finally gonna get laid?”

“shut up.” geto grunts, and his entire mood was ruined. you suddenly felt embarrassed, in such heat of a moment then gojo just had to show up.

“heh,” he snickers before walking towards you, and gojo’s so tall, the both of them are but he’s equivalent to a skyscraper.

he stares you down with pretty cerulean hued eyes, doing the same motion geto did.

a swift thumb strokes against your cheek and he speaks in an almost husk yet playful tone. “hmph. i wanted you first, shame sugu got the first taste. now that’s no fair.”

“…you both can have me.”

they both share the same nonplus expression at your blurted words—you didn’t even know where that came from, but at this point you didn’t care. geto already made a mess out of you, barely even doing anything but kissing you, and oh how wet you were between your legs.

seeing them both in front of you only continued to make you pulse and yearn for more.

“really?” they both say at the same time, in sync. you were already so hot and bothered by geto, you only could have imagined what it felt like being with the both of them.

you nodded, your impatience was wearing so thin.

gojo snakes a arm around your waist before geto grabs him, nudging him lightly. “not here, idiot. we can just go back to my dorm.”

…there, you laid flat on geto’s flat-sized mattress, gojo was directly next to you—a hand cupping your chin as his lips was pressed against yours.

he tasted sweet, your tongue curled against his and the flavor that coated him made you moan in his mouth. the forms of his lips curving into a smile pressed up against you. you felt it, and you moaned again feel geto kneel down to spread your legs open for him.

he took his time, geto’s warm lengthy fingers softly carressed your legs, slowly pulling down your formal jean attire, creating multiple kisses near your inner thighs, and his tongue…

gently dragging his tongue up your leg slowly until he reached your panties, pants halfway on he pulls them down fully before giving you a three second glance.

“feel how soaked she is, satoru.” geto murmurs.

“bet she is,” gojo snickers, and you whined once you felt him trail a hand down between yours legs to give your laced undergarments that were deeply soaked, a good enough squeeze. “hm. wonder who’s makin' her this wet,” and then he hums, bringing a kiss towards your collarbone before grinning—whispering underneath his breath, it fans against your chest and makes you shudder. “…obviously me.”

“don’t get too cocky,” geto rolls his eyes in vex, and you let off a soft whimper once you look down to see the long-haired man stare at you with a relaxed smile plastered on his face. his eyebrows raise just slightly before he gives you a subtle sexy head nod. “mind putting my hair into a ponytail, sweets?”

his voice was so low and attractive, each syllable he spoke throughout his words.

his pronunciation even was just so filthy, his entire demeanor. you were drenched between your pretty thighs to even fathom anything else.

“okay.” you mumbled, taking his thin hair tie, softly pulling a good amount of his soft strands, maneuvering your hands swiftly around before securing it in a tight yet loose ponytail.

“mm….thank you.” he says, and geto leans in to give the middle part of your panties a slow lick towards your legs twitch and you moan, going back against the bed before gojo starts to unclasp your culinary coat.

running his fingers against the thick fabric, he starts planting kisses everywhere around your mouth and neck—until he starts sucking against your skin. and gojo smells so good too, the both of them wore such strong cologne, but gojo’s scent was a bit more loud.

manly and sharp, it was intoxicating. each teasing suck gojo created against your neck, the soft foreplay licks geto made towards the very print of your panties.

just…fuck.

your head went back in rapture—pleasure, a hand making on the crown of geto’s head, giving his ponytail a light yank before whining. “just..eat me out please suguru. can’t take it anymore.”

“poor baby,” gojo fake pouts, and he makes you turn your position, lying flat on your stomach now and he towers over you. he’s pressing his knees against the bed as he’s in front with geto behind. “what, what what…?” he taunts, watching you desperately claw your fingers towards his sweats, his visible bulge looked so appetizing—you could only imagine how big this idiot was. “ya wanna occupy that mouth while sugu eats you out, yeah?”

“uh huh.”

you nodded, and gojo grows more cocky, craving it badly.

geto uses two fingers to slide your panties to the side - starting off slow with a long stripe lick towards your pre-soaked pussy and you whimpered.

geto's eyes close for a brief moment—using both hands to spread your ass just a bit, dipping his tongue between your slit, savoring the sugary taste. once he started there was no stopping, in his dirty mind, he imagined your pussy was the sweetest dessert he's ever crafted with his own two hands.

cake…cupcakes…fucking ice cream…

his saliva was practically syrupy from how much he was nearly being coated from just your mess alone. some of it runs down the side of his mouth and he’s just such a messy eater.

“…don’t gimme that look, baby,” gojo grunts, his smile—a half skittish one at that, his pants sag and droop from his waistline before you pull it down just to expose his white and blue boxers.

gojo brings your head close towards it with a swift hand around your throat lightly, rubbing your face all against his bulge, the stretchy thin fabric protected his lower half to make you whine more.

“see…feel how..how hard you fuckin' make me? put your throat to good use for me,” and he lifts your head up—making sure you keep direct eye contact. “…‘okay satoru’. say it, girl.”

you moaned, geto's so sloppy as he’s continuing to eat you out from behind, it’s devilishly nasty from how good he was at pleasing you…

figures. because he was one of the top cooks, not only would his meals would be considered s-tier, but so would his tongue. every few seconds he’d spit on your cunt just to lap it up.

with the help of two thick fingers of his already stuffed inside you to make your body twitch and shudder beneath his hold.

“o-okay, satoru.”

stuttering for him, adorable…

you mumbled, and he stares down at you with a cocksure expression, your fingers hungrily pull down his boxers…and his dick sprung out, your first initial thought was how pretty it was.

long, lengthy and a little bit veiny, such height to it that it towers. it was a faint shade of beige but with a dash mix of pink. he was well trimmed, although managed to have a few specks of white hair near his base.

his base though… he was so full, stuffed. literal breeder balls, made your mouth water at just having that stuffed down your tight throat…

damn.

you were so eager, you didn’t want to waste time. gojo watches as you slide your tongue out, swirling it around his sensitive frenulum that was splattered with sticky pre-cum all over it, earning a grunt from him.

“oh….s-shit… juuuust like that, yeah. all the way down.”

his girth was simply delicious, scrumptious even. your warm mouth opened him with open arms. sinking down slowly every few seconds, he groans from feeling you moan down his shaft because of geto continuously eating you out at the same time.

geto’s got a mouth on him, or tongue some might say. the way it flicks against your nub only to abuse it by sucking on it tenderly, savoring its sweet candied taste, your muffled moans fueled him with much desire—even he started to feel himself get hard.

the unapologetic strain in his pants, oh…it was there. just bulging and bulging.

you whimpered at the gentle scrap of geto’s nose swiping against your pussy, equivalent to a credit card as if it was checking for balance.

your eyes rolled back, although gojo wants you to keep your focus primarily on him though.

“mhm. fuckin' slob on it.” he grumbles, gripping the back of your head to lightly move you further and further against him.

his fat tip that was aching inside your mouth, pulsing with much content.

it starts to hit back against the very roof of your mouth, so sloppy, he wants you to be sloppy….you gag, drool spilling from the side of your lips and looking up at him with a cock-drunken grin. “yeahhh girl. there’s that pretty smile. keep doin' that.”

gojo’s using your throat, fingers dug into your scalp and he’s got you being such a mess, such a slut.

he tastes so good, your tongue circulates against his tip. the sweetness yet tang of bitterness of his pre-cum coats the very tip of your tongue, the tastebuds of yours tasted everything.

sweet like candy….sweet like a pastry.

“shit, been hidin' this...dirty throat from me?” he moans, trying to laugh it off but failing. he’s giving you a stare, shooting daggers and he’s kind of embarrassed. your own gaze towards him was so intimate, he’s making you go up and down, you’re breathing through your nose and he almost slips off a whine.

“she’s close, satoru,” geto mumbles, departing his lips for a split second to speak—a whimper rips from your voice at the hotly warm breath of his fanning against your clit, he drags a thumb down your pussy before giving it a light spank. “should i, excuse me….should we let her?” he teases.

“….nahhh.”

you frown, the playful repetitive banter between the two of them going back and forth—long strands of geto’s hair tickles against his skin the further he shoves his face between your thighs, eating you out like a starved man, his tongue was at such temperature, it’s very warmth feeling has butterflies co-existing into the very depths of your tummy.

“you wanna cum, baby? ‘s that why you keep poutin' all stupid-like with my dick in your mouth?”

all you could do was nod your dumb head, up and down with the cutest scowl scattered across your face, pulling back up.

a singular pop leaves your lips one his twitching dick exists, and your glossed eyes stare at him. “s-satoru—”

“no, gorgeous. you’re supposed to be moaning my name.” geto grunts, giving your pussy another smack and you whimper. he’s just french kissing with your clit now, his entire technique made your toes curl, feeling such heat swell and build up inside of you, your mind raced and raced. “suguru. not fuckin' satoru. tch.”

“ahah, don’t mind him, he gets jealous when things doesn’t go his way.” gojo sneers, rubbing a hand underneath your chin.

your spit coats his fingers and he sticks his bottom lip out, fake pity as he’s toying with your mouth.

his dick grows soft inside and you’re basically nibbling on it now. your jaw ached a bit, you’re staring up at him and he gives you an abrupt head bat before groaning. “y-you’re gonna make me cum if ya keep sucking me slow like that, girl.”

you suddenly gasp, snapping out of your cock-drunken trance with a mean ass smack from geto, a snicker escaped his lips in return and you’re cumming hard, it’s unexpected and your legs twitch, practical mush.

only pathetic murmuring cacophonies of, “s-suguru,” and “o-oh my f-fucking goddd,” ‘s made its way out your throat once you stopped sucking gojo off for a few seconds.

your orgasm was rough, boisterous, just hit you like a full blown semi-truck.

his lips were still attached to your folds, dark eyebrows tugged together he’s determined on making you say his name, making you cum more than gojo ever could.

gojo rolllllls his eyes, dramatically as possible.

quite the drama queen he was. the actual epitome of it. gojo ends of concluding himself, swallowing hard as he sat on his knees. you instinctively slide your tongue out for him to spray it with many ropes and droplets of his cum.

“thaaaat’s it, clean me up baby.” he pants, his breath was shaky but he still finds time to flash geto a cheesy grin.

just…wriggling his eyebrows, so unserious. gojo turns his attention back towards you, and he watches you swallow every drop, savoring the taste.

it makes your eyes squeeze a little before you detach your lips, your own sheeny coated saliva running away from his dick.

geto stares at the both of you with a cute pique expression—gojo leans down before stroking your chin, brushing his thumb against your lips whilst observing your features, “gimme a kiss. just like ya did to suguru.”

you scooted upwards on the bed, and his smirk…

his white lashes were pretty, they lowered as he stared down at you, lingering over you even while on his knees. gojo always found a liking towards you. he didn’t mind a bit of competition against his culinary peer, geto wasn’t the only one who had a sweet tooth for you after all.

you lean into his touch—and his slender fingers ghosts against the middle part of your neck, you open your mouth for him just a bit for him to swirl his tongue against yours sensually.

his lips brushed against yours, incredibly soft and plump. he couldn’t help but suck on your tongue just a tad bit, not even minding tasting himself, his own stickiness that remained.

“how repulsive,” geto mumbles underneath his breath, pulling you away of gojo’s reach. geto stares down at you - and he’s quite handsome himself, still in a pussy drunken state, eyes half closed.

he looked gorgeous.

“satoru,” he says, raising his head before he pulls you close towards him. with a soft uttered oof, you land against his chest, and he rubs a hand caressingly down your back, brushing the tips of his fingers against the thin fabric of your tank top. “how ‘bout we compete?”

you moaned, geto brings his lips towards the side of your neck while rubbing his hand against your pussy — feeling how overly sensitive you still were, so needy and in such heat, you bit down on your lip as he continued to speak. “hmm… on who can make her cream the most?”

“me, obviously,” gojo immediately chuckles, as if that was the dumbest question imaginable. “i wanna get first dibs,” and then he pecks a kiss towards your nose. “can i, pretty? ya fine with that?”

“yeah...”

you panted, geto’s feeling you up and he’s so toasty, so warm.

you were embarrassed enough as is with how sticky you were between your legs. your own slick stuck against the crevices of your inner thighs like glue, every few seconds you’d catch geto staring at it, swiping a tongue against his lips as if he wanted to eat you out again, and again.

“…baby.” gojo purrs, you’re pressed against your stomach.

the linen sheets rubbed off against your skin, velvet black sheets and you swallowed whatever pride you had left, glancing at the long rectangular shaped mirror that stood in front of the three of you.

“tell me, yeah,” he pauses…and you choke out a needy whine, oh he’s teasing, ghosting his achy tip against your pussy. “how do you like it? rough? soft, aggressive?”

and then he leans directly close towards you—his chest hits against your back, and he playfully grinds against you with just his throbbing cock pulsing between you making you whimper out. “i wanna get to know this pussy before i just go all in, ya know…?”

“r-rough, please. just fuck me, satoru.” you sniffled, glancing up at geto who’s got a relaxed smile—he pursed his lips against each other before starting away with a flirtatious scoff.

he was jealous.

one he started, gojo was a monster, plain and simple. his stroke game was just downright mean.

he’s got you gripping the sheet, hanging on for dear life and babbling the most ludicrous things out of your mouth, you can’t even believe the things you were whining out.

as his dick buried inside of you—your jaw is nearly dropped open at full he’s got you, his length, the girth and the fucking stretch of his cock has you drooling for more. “s-shit, shit more,” you begged, your voice trembling from his mean hits.

no remorse, your ass smacks and smacks against him loudly. it rings throughout your ears, making your teeth chatter just slightly. gojo’s hand wraps against the back of your throat. a tiny squeak comes out and surely enough, you find yourself smiling at your reflection. “not too rough am i, pretty? …she okay?”

pulling your eyebrows together in confusion, you were confused before realizing he was referring to your pussy. of course…

“n-no, i'm fine.” you choked out.

“good, gooood….”

he's sexily grunting, and his hip movements were just animalistic. his frame snaps and jerks against you to where the mattress is just singing out adlibs in harmony. creak after creak after creak, it grows out to be annoying—yet alas…your dumb little brain can barely process anything anymore.

now you knew why they called it backshots for a reason.

gojo’s weight just barely lingers against your ass, your pussy was vocal too. it’d be quite foolish for it not to be.

it squelched and cried and even spat out many other various sounds all from gojo’s mean derogatory target hits against your very core. frail arms just dangling over the bed, being stretched thin by his dick, its expanding and exploring your walls as if it was on a mission.

your pussy craved and yearned for more, pretty soon you were gonna cum again—he’s got your arms pinned behind your back, just driving and bullying his dick in and out of you. you’re speechless, lurching against the mattress your eyes roll back and gojo groans, “your back arch is so pretty, baby,” he taunts, clicking his tongue in derision. “so whiney.”

“…you’re hogging her, satoru.” geto grumbles, and he brings your body up to sit up—gojo scoffs, watching him take initiative to kiss you again. you whimper in his mouth once you felt him bring a hand between your legs. gojo pulls out with a frown, watching geto steal you now.

his warm lips clashed against yours—he tasted so rich and sweet, the flavor, his flavor was just purely appetizing. as your tongue collided against his, he’s hungrily gripping your ass now, the thin middle part of your panties lazily pushed to the side, you could taste the tiniest sugary-coated cream of his pastry still on his lips. not to mention your own slick as well, it still coated his chin, shimmery and all.

with a free hand, he pulls his hair out of a ponytail, and it flies loose. some of it tickles against your skin and you whined once he gave your ass a smack before presenting it with a good squeeze.

“you’re greedy, suguru...” gojo pouts. “you didn’t even let me finish, man.”

feeling the tips of his ears seethe with hotness, gojo didn’t wanna admit how hard it was to see you and geto make out with each other. geto’s hand placement, it was so attractive—one resting on your hip, another on your bare ass, kissing his palm against your rear with a few spanks to make you moan such salacious moans and whimpers in his mouth.

you feel geto’s lips purse into a smile at gojo being jealous now, he runs his tongue alongside yours, and he brings you closer towards him.

you hook a leg around his waist and that’s when his hands slide down your waist. “she wasn’t yours to begin with.”

he mutters, smiling at gojo—pulling away to lick down your neck and you whimpered.

“im joking, crybaby. guess i gotta share,” he pecks a kiss near your collarbone. geto stares into your eyes before relaxing his face, humming before leaning close to your ear. “think you can take both of us, gorgeous?”

both…?

you nodded without hesitation, and gojo presses up against you before you crawl on top of geto’s lap.

he slouched back against his mattress with a smug grin, whipping his dick out. he was thicker while gojo was subtly longer. he still had inches to him, every single second you took to stare made your mouth water.

“tch….should be ridin' me instead,” he snarls underneath his breath, helping you slide your way down onto geto.

“cry about it.” geto shrugs, and the white-haired male only gives him a glare. you moaned, feeling geto’s thickness insert its way inside your pussy, past your folds. barely in and his tip was so fat. it was plump and stretched your cunt out to its supreme.

gojo tsks, stroking himself before rubbing himself against your leaky hole — your arms snake around geto’s shoulders and he’s staring at you. one hand of his slipping underneath your top to brush his thumbs against your perky nipples, making you whimper even more.

his tongue slithered against your bare skin…giving it a good suck, his pearly white teeth playfully nibbles against your nipple and you whine.

“can your pussy even fit two?” gojo pants, his voice was shaky, embarrassingly so—he’s catching himself licking his lips, sinking his way inside you, now you’re just being double stuffed. you’re on geto’s lap with gojo positioned behind you.

feeling every inch, inches stuffing inside of you, gojo spanks your ass. purposely leaning up close to you — he’s warm, his entire body is, the fabric of his hoodie skims up against your back.

you hear him chuckle nervously against you, and you start to move your hips against geto. warm breath fanning against your earlobe before he playfully licks the side of your ear only to nibble on it to hide his moans.

“…mhm..baby…baby,” he grunts, grabbing your hips to rock against him. gojo moans, melodically so, he’s practically jumping against you, you’re taking both of them and you bite down on your lip. geto leans back and watches the view of you riding him while getting inches from behind. “s-still gotta finish, ‘m a little sensitive still.”

“ya think satoru should finish, princess? he looks like he’s about to cry,” geto sneers, his gaze was stoic as ever, he raises his head, a meaningless head tilt at you, locking eye contact and he’s so big.

gojo’s fingertips dig into the fat of your ass, spanking it and spanking it — the recoil turning him on even more and he just can’t shut up. babbling nonsense, his bottom lip pokes out as he feels himself grow hotter, immense pressure building up as he was rutting himself against you, geto as the same time.

tag team.

“n-no.” you giggled, being caught by surprise once gojo wraps his arms around you — body to body, his cold breath danced against your skin after each jittery pant of desperation.

geto only laughs at your answer, watching you keep up a somewhat reasonable pace with your hips, you lightly shove geto down against his back, swerving yourself against him, and he’s stretching you fully. “he’s been too bratty.”

damn…

“eh?! y-you guys are fuckin' bullies…”

he spasms, his pink-reddened lip quivers, glancing down to see your pussy getting devoured by two thick cocks. you couldn’t really talk because you were moaning just as much as gojo, he’s so close to you, his scent, his loud scent that never failed to make you dizzy, “shit, i-i can’t.”

“just kidding, you can cum,” you whimpered, feeling gojo suddenly reach down to squeeze your pussy — kissing it with a few spanks from his hand.

your legs clench and tremble, and he’s so relieved. poor baby, he’s all shaky, it’s almost like he’s the girl.

gojo’s sputtering out incoherent, “thankyouthankyou,” ‘s into your neck repeatedly, taking a moment to swallow before he’s shooting inside your clenching hole, his entire body locks and tenses.

his jaw mimickes the same and his orgasm was soooo loud.

“f-fuck, take it all for me. been savin' it for so long…”

it’s sticky and slimy — gojo’s cum spills out, and he pouts once he pauses, watching it pour out only to stuff his dick back in, plugging it in so it never leaves.

he swipes his thumb against his own created mess and moans. “phew shit... ‘m gonna have dreams about this, ‘bout your nasty pussy soakin' up my c-cum.”

it continues for hours and hours, actually let’s not exaggerate — half an hour.

a good half an hour of you being absolutely stuffed, fucked stupid with your pretty doe eyes staring into space, jaw dead open and legs feeling virtually nonexistent. they made you cum, cream…about at least a dozen times.

you were so conflicted, geto’s praising you, showering you with compliments in that sweet low voice meanwhile — gojo’s degrading you now after getting over his impactful orgasm, he’s so mean.

he grows a liking to spanking your pussy, telling you no, those single two letter words that never fails to make you pout and whine.

“this is so much better than culinary.” geto sighs, and he’s got you currently pressed up against his chest — full nelson, an arm swiftly and safely locked around your neck and your legs were all spread. you looked so stupid, eyes protruding at the position, your legs being just barely over your legs.

“she’s a good cook but an even better squirter,” gojo stares at you, taking full view of your cunt. it’s just spitting out gibberish, squelches…

geto’s got your body swinging and swaying against his own — you’re being stretched all the way out in more ways than one, you didn’t know you were this flexible. “one more, babe. show us your cute little velocity.”

“don’t be shy, you’ve made such a mess for us already,” geto eggs on, peppering your neck with kisses, your head’s spinning and everything feels so good. you can hear your heart pounding and thrashing out of your ears. “relax for me. yeah, like that. it’s okay…it’s okay gorgeous.”

geto’s words made you throb — his cock pulsed inside of you, so deep it makes you suck and kiss your teeth in envy. the curve of his dick hits and raptures against you, dragging out a sweet moan from your spit-glossed lips. “let me make you cream again. easy, girl..”

so much pressure rises and builds up, your head just smacks against geto. eyes subtlety rolling back to where you’re seeing straight black. “f-fuckkk. s-sugu.”

“give it to us, c'mon.” gojo whispers, he starts to maneuver circles against your clit, and since the position in you were in didn’t allow you to close your legs, you just jolted, panting and huffing out irregular breaths. “so sensitive, good girl. ‘s okay. be messy. i’ll clean ya up.”

once you squirt — it shoots out with such force, gojo’s in awe, a stupid grin plasters on his face before he slides a thumb inside your pussy that’s already being stuffed by geto’s lengthy dick. “ooooh.”

geto’s different when it came to his loads, it shot out hefty splotches, painting your insides white to where you’re chewing on invisible words, invisble moans.

he makes the both of you grow quiet so you can hear, himself shooting a filthy sticky load inside, he’s panting himself, sweat raced down the side of his head as he’s catching his breath. the way he used two fingers to pry your pussy open, showing gojo his own cum pour out of you — it’s racing down your folds as if it was in a contest.

“good…girl. f-fuck.” he says, his tone a bit drowsy.

“someone’s tired,” gojo teases, pulling you into a kiss. you moaned, kissing back. still on geto’s lap, he’s still got your legs spread open for him, but he takes you out of the head lock from full nelson, allowing your legs to breathe.

gojo’s tongue drags everywhere on your mouth, he was a sloppy kisser and wasn’t ashamed. he was obsessed with your saliva - moaning as you ran a finger down his toned biceps flexing underneath his tank.

you pull away after a whine, gasping for air only to fall back on geto’s chest, never in a million years thinking you’d screw your two culinary peers.

“we…we should do this again,” gojo sighs, swiping his hand across his sweaty forehead.

geto narrows his brows, still fucked out himself. “you weren’t even invited.”

“y-yeah? well i still made her cream more than you. let’s be honest, suguru. i won, heh.”

“you moan like a woman, just stop talking.”

“….”

then you remembered why, the constant bickering amongst the two of them — so damn annoying. but sexy, fighting over you and everything. gojo leans down, softly nibbling on your thighs. geto smiles, moving close to lick a stripe up your tummy as if your body was coated in nothing but sweets.

“f-fuck.” you’d pant, gojo’s tongue sliding between the crevices of your thighs now, running a finger down your sloppy pussy.

“we aren’t done with you, girl,” geto mutters, his hair strands tickle against your skin before he sits up — tapping a thumb against your cheek before smiling, poking his dick in hand against your lips, smearing it with your own spit. “open that mouth. wanna give you a treat. ��s got so much vanilla waitin' just for you to swallow.”

maybe culinary wasn’t so bad after all..

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sinkingnotsoslowly · 2 months

Text

Menace

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader (pronouns not mentioned)

Non-idol au, fluff, very little angst

technically is a part 2 of this fic but could be read as a standalone

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK. REBLOGS AND FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED

“Why aren’t you dating anyone Minho?”

Minho stops devouring his pudding to gawk at you. “I’m not questioning your decision to stay single but why are you really not dating?”, you ask.

“Because you haven’t said yes yet”, he goes back to eating his pudding as if he didn’t just say the most outlandish thing.

“Yes to what?”

Minho rolls his eyes in feigned annoyance, “Yes to me asking you to date me, duh”

“Ugh be serious Minho”, you huff.

“What makes you think I’m not serious (yn)?” he looks at you with something in his eyes that you can’t decipher. “I think I should head back now, my break ended ten minutes ago”, with that gets up and walks out of the café.

This was two weeks ago and it still hasn’t left your mind. It is not unlike Minho to randomly ask you out on a date but you never take him seriously. He always jokes about how you two should just marry each other if you were still single at thirty. But that day at the café he did not seem like he was joking about you dating him. Did you hit a nerve by asking him that? But if he was indeed upset, he would tell you about it, you guys always talked things out if either of you were upset. He has been behaving perfectly normally since then.

“I ate pudding today”, you waited for him to continue but only silence followed. “Minho you called me in the middle of the day to say that you ate pudding?”, you asked. “Yeah, and it was so delicious. Buy me more when you come over. Anyways I got to go, bye”, the call ended. Yep, very Minho-like.

You met Minho at a college party and then proceeded to make out with him only stopping when you accidentally moaned your best friend’s name instead. But he never held it against you. You eventually opened up to him enough to tell him that you were in love with your best friend. The said best friend was getting married in a month. And you would be there, as a guest of course. To your surprise you weren’t exactly heartbroken when Seungmin called you, gasping for breath like he had run a marathon. You could almost hear him grinning his puppy grin, “She said yes”.

Just because you were not heartbroken did not mean you were not sad. After all, there were years of pining, wishing that one day he would finally realise that the love of his life was always in front of him. That did not happen. You guys graduated, you got a job, he went for higher studies and found someone there. That night Minho came over with beer and let you ugly sob on his shoulder. Since college, he has always been there with you, your graduation, your first job, bad dates, going out for drinks on Friday nights and talking shit about your bosses. You thought he was good for you; a great friend.

“I’m going on a date tomorrow”, Minho said while setting up his laptop for the movie. It was your weekly movie night at his place, “Thought I should try getting out there”. He was still looking at the laptop avoiding your eyes. For some reason, you felt a pang in your chest. “Is this because of what I said? Minho I didn’t mean to upset you-”

“You didn’t upset me (yn). I’ve just been thinking of settling down”, he started the movie without further explanation. You wanted to press him on but you thought better of it.

You couldn’t concentrate on the movie. Throughout it, you kept thinking about what Minho said. You couldn’t blame him for wanting to settle down but you kept feeling uncomfortable with the image of Minho dating someone and then marrying her.

Minho has always been a menace but he became a little more annoying the next week. He always has this look on his face like he knows something you don’t and it has been eating at your brain. Midweek your composure breaks and you snap, “Ok what is it? Why do you look like you are up to no good?” At that Minho looks at you like you just sprouted two heads, “I don’t know what you’re talking about”

“Oh you know what I’m talking about Minho”

Minho keeps looking at you like a cat who did not just knock off the flower vase, and then he blinked like a lightbulb went off in his head, “Ah right! Come over on Saturday I need help to pick out what I’ll wear for the date.”

The date. Right. He was just excited for the date. You felt your spirits dropping. Maybe in no time, you’ll be attending Minho’s wedding too, as a guest. Wait what? Why would you think that? How else would you want to attend a friend’s wedding if not as a guest?

Oh.

OH.

Oh no.

You stood up abruptly almost knocking over your half-drunk coffee on the table, “I-I have to go, I haven’t even started the new project yet”. Without sparing Minho another glance you grabbed your bag to just get away from him as fast as possible.

“Huh? That was sudden. Well don’t forget about Saturday.”

You faked a smile towards him, “Yes, yes, Saturday, I’ll be there.”

Saturday came faster than you could blink. And it seemed like the universe had a personal vendetta against you this week. Missed deadlines, unnecessary hourlong meetings, spilt coffee, missing the bus- you name it. At this point, only a year-long vacation could give some mental peace. And on top of that, you couldn’t stop thinking about Minho. You didn’t see each other again after that one day when you barely escaped humiliating yourself.

“Should I wear the blue button-down or the black one?”

“Black”

“Hmm, ok blue it is” menace.

“Why am I here Minho? Not like you are listening to me”, you were sitting on his bed munching on the last of honey butter chips Minho had stocked up. You spent the whole day buried in the blanket, wallowing in self-pity, and almost didn’t show up today. You even contemplated going back home while standing in front of Minho’s house. God knows what you were still doing there sitting in Minho’s bedroom while he dressed up for his date.

Minho looked at you through the mirror, scoffing, “For moral support of course”. He went back to styling his hair without another word.

“Well then if am done providing moral support to your honour, I’ll be taking my leave”, it was time for you to go back to the safety of your blankets and cry yourself to sleep since you did not seem fated to have requited love in this life. The only option left was arranged marriage.

Before you could leave Minho’s room you were stopped. “W-wait, don’t you have anything to tell me?” Minho asked. You turned around, brain going into overdrive. Why would he say that? Does he know about my feelings? Is he teasing me? Oh God please no. But what if-

“Like- are you okay with this? Me going on a date?” Ah, so he was just worried. How sweet. “Of course, I’m okay Minho. Why wouldn’t I be? This is completely your decision; you deserve to be happy-”

“Oh my god, you’re so dumb (yn). Why can’t you just say it? Why can’t you just ask me not to go? Why can’t you tell me that you like me?” Minho paused, taking a breath to calm down, “I like you (yn). And I know you like me. There is no other girl. But I do have a reservation for dinner if you’re up for it”.

It would be an understatement to say that you were dumfounded. You had thought of many scenarios while laying awake in bed but not this. “Why didn’t you just confront me if you knew that I liked you?”, you asked, fiddling with the hem of your shirt which looked very interesting suddenly. Minho sighed, “I wasn’t sure at first. So I wanted to see your reaction by saying that I have a date. And it seemed like you weren’t sure about your feelings either. So are you up for it?”

“Huh?”

“The date. Do want to go on this date? Look I understand if you are pissed, and it’s fine if you say no-”

“Just drive me to my place so I can dress up atleast. You’re such a menace Lee Minho”

Minho grinned like a cat, “Yeah but now it’s too late to get rid off me. So this menace is now your responsibility”.

So you were fated to have requited love it seems.

masterlist

Autumn's sighs- little soft thoughts about our favourite boys

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rebouks · 2 months

Text

Robin: Grandma! Sidney: Hi, honey. Robin: Hi. Sidney: Watcha doing?

[Robin wasn’t sure anymore, but he needed to ask something. He wasn’t used to talking to his grandmother though-.. even though he could, it always felt weird and forced. He decided he’d probably just have to be blunt]

Robin: Can I ask you something? Sidney: Shoot. Robin: Can we keep it a secret? I don’t want mom n’ dad to know I asked… Sidney: I can keep a secret.

[Sidney found a sheltered spot behind a rock and patted the sand beside her; Robin had barely taken a seat before launching his question at his grandmother, catching her off guard]

Robin: Has papa ever died-.. or come close?

[Sidney blinked, blindsided by Robin’s question]

Robin: I wanna know the truth too, like.. don’t do that thing grown-ups do n’ coat everything in syrup. Sidney: You really want the non-sugar-coated version..? Robin: Yeah.

[Sidney squinted at Robin, unsure how to proceed. He could tell she didn’t think it was her place to tell him]

Sidney: Why haven’t you asked your father? Robin: I don’t want to. Sidney: He’d tell you, if you asked-.. he’d be grateful for it too. Robin: Grateful? Why?

[Sidney sucked her teeth and buried her hands in the sand for a moment, thinking]

Sidney: Your dad and I never saw eye to eye when he was young, sometimes we still don’t-.. he didn’t trust me enough to talk to me, and I didn’t bother asking, or fixing it. It’s caused a lot of problems between us, so I think he’d appreciate you trusting him enough to ask. Robin: It’ll upset him though. Sidney: Well, tough-.. he can’t hide his past from you forever, he should know by now it always comes n’ bites you on the ass eventually.

[Robin frowned, feeling defensive on behalf of his father]

Robin: He wanted to tell me. Sidney: You’ve already asked?

[Robin shook his head, earning himself a confused look from Sidney; everything was so hard to explain when you had to tiptoe around the truth]

Robin: I want you to tell me. Sidney: I’ll tell you on one condition-.. you ask him about it too. He’ll have my guts for garters if he knew I’d told you and kept it from him. I can’t keep this particular secret, I’m afraid. Robin: Fine.

[Sidney shook her head and sighed; she couldn’t believe she’d been talked into this nonsense by a ten-year-old]

Sidney: Yes, he almost died-.. technically he did, but that’s just a medical thing, I suppose. Robin: Did you save him? Sidney: No.. I was there, but I couldn’t. Robin: Why not? Sidney: I just couldn’t do it; I was a mess! You can’t imagine how it felt, seeing him-…

[Sidney cut herself off, not wanting to go too far-.. but Robin didn’t need to imagine how it felt, he could feel it too. He quickly swallowed the lump in his throat, desperate to know more before his brain imploded with unanswered questions and half-truths]

Robin: What happened? How’d he end up like that? Sidney: Well… Robin: I know about the bad stuff he used to do-.. he drank a lot, was it that? It was in a bar or something, right? Sidney: He’s told you about that?

[Robin shrugged; his father had only alluded to such things, but Sidney didn’t need to know that, nor did she need to know what Larry had inadvertently shown him]

Sidney: Oscar had a lot of issues with drugs and alcohol when he was younger-.. it almost got the better of him that night, I think he just went too far by accident. Robin: So, it wasn’t on purpose? Sidney: Not exactly. Robin: What do you mean? Sidney: He knew the risks-.. but you really shouldn’t be asking about this sort of thing, honey. Robin: Just ‘cause I’m little doesn’t mean I can’t understand.

[Sidney chuckled; the apple certainly didn’t fall far from the tree. Robin was just as headstrong and persistent as his father]

Sidney: Maybe not, but you should be climbing trees and thinking about what’s for pudding-.. don’t worry yourself about all this stuff too much. Not yet, at least. Robin: It’s hard not to-.. did he get better after what happened? Sidney: For a while, then he got worse, then he got better again-.. go n’ talk to him, he’ll make you feel better about what happened. He’s had a good handle on himself for a while now; since before you were born, if I’m not mistaken. Robin: That’s a long time. Sidney: It sure is. Robin: It never really leaves though, does it? Not completely.

[Sidney hesitated briefly, surprised by the depth of Robin’s understanding]

Sidney: No, not really. Robin: Okay, thanks.

[Sidney yanked Robin back into the sand before he could run off]

Sidney: Don’t make me be the one to tell him about this-.. you talk to him, you hear me? Robin: I hear you… Sidney: You better! Don’t think I won’t make sure.

[Robin nodded, hastily escaping Sidney’s grasp, and her intensity. He had no choice now; if grandma Sid said she meant business, she damn well meant it]

Previous // Next

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lfghughes · 1 year

Note

after years and years of dating, jack finally proposing to the reader maybe also include flashbacks of jack ellen and maybe quinn and luke going shopping for a ring

a/n: this one was so much fun to write, thank you so much for requesting this. my heart is total pudding right now.

You and Jack had been together for years and most questions you got from friends, families, and interviewers were all surrounding a future engagement and marriage. You were in no rush and you never wanted Jack to feel like he had to propose. Both of you knew you were going to be together and you weren’t the type to give an ultimatum. Usually both of you did a pretty good job at finding a way out of the question or simply telling people that when it happens it happens. Right now we were in playoff season and Jacks parents plus Quinn were coming in to stay at the apartment you both shared with Luke. So your main focus was making sure you were all comfortable but you were also excited since his family had really become your family in all these years and Ellen especially had become like a mom to you and a best friend. Them being here wasn’t a nuisance it was actually far from it and you knew Jack was more than excited about them being here to watch him and his brother play.

Jack had a plan and he had talked it over with Ellen before on the phone whenever he did get a moment of privacy. They had both agreed on when she got here that they would look at rings together and help him choose the perfect one. At first he considered inviting Quinn and Luke but he really wanted this time with his mom to go over everything without his brothers teasing him in any way. “What about this one, mom?” He asked as he pointed at a ring. “Jack, honey it’s a little flashy and she’s always mentioned just wanting something a little more simple.” He did know this but it was like every thought process was gone from his brain because of how nervous he was. His eyes stopped in front of a ring that he knew was perfect. “I think I found it.” And with those words, Ellen leaned over and smiled. “I think you just found it too.”

Hiding the ring wasn’t an issue, usually Jack knew that his hockey gear went untouched but he also knew Luke could hide it easily in his room. But showing Quinn and Luke the ring was a little more difficult because there wasn’t a time that the apartment was empty but luckily Ellen had decided to do a girls nail salon day that gave him just enough time to show them. “Woah, is this real?” Quinn asked as he looked at the ring box. “So are you going to fix your tooth before asking?” Luke asked with a laugh before Quinn playfully tapped him to stop. Jack looked defeated for a second before Luke spoke up again. “She’s going to love that ring and I can’t wait until she’s officially or well legally our sister.”

Jack had also asked his dad for some proposal ideas because well he had done it once and it worked out great but the best advice he got was to do it when it felt right. How would he know when it felt right? Every moment with you felt right. Jack had decided he would do it at a family dinner outing. Typically he would have thought of doing it in private but he knew that you wouldn’t be upset by it and would actually love that Ellen could be there and well he wanted his mom there too and your parents. So he planned a big family outing that you didn’t think twice of because his parents were only in town for a few weeks and why wouldn’t you have a big family dinner? Until he got down on his knee right before dessert and showed you the most perfect engagement ring. “I’ve been in love with you for many years and I plan on being in love with you for many more. Marry me?” You immediately nodded your head. “Yes! Of course, yes!” The room started clapping and you immediately showed the whole table the ring even though you knew Jack had more than likely done it but yet Ellen still acted like it was her first time looking at the ring. “It’s beautiful honey. You already know you’ve been a part of this family for a long time but we’re so excited to watch you marry our son.”

#jack hughes #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #( wedding series ft jack hughes )

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atsadi-shenanigans · 12 days

Text

Something Full-Bodied and Red

Did a thing. Here's period smut!

It hits you right as he says, “No need to bleed by yourself, my love.” Your jaw drops. You stare at him, in his words, all agog. “You… are you saying…?” “Offering my companionship during your trying times? Yes, I believe I am. You smell delicious, Eleanor. I’ve been thinking about devouring you all day.” No mistake as his gaze slides down to the extra padding beneath your trousers. Or the way his pupils eclipse the red irises.

Or: Aunt Flo comes to visit. Astarion is delighted to make her acquaintance.

You really should a known when Gale made an—objectively-speaking and you even knew it at the time—simple statement about the best path to take. The day is hotter than Satan’s ass crack, y’all are sweating and miserable, and the rage surges up in you like goddamn Plinian eruption.

You say something along the line of, “No one asked your opinion, and yet here we are, listening to you talk anyway.”

It’s too far. You know it. Knew it before you even opened your mouth in that split second judgment call.

Gale’s face falls before he picks it back up and resettles his blasé mask.

Shit goddamn fuck.

Everyone hears it, too. Even Astarion gives you a Look.

“I’m sorry, Gale,” you say. “I really am. I’m…that was an asshole thing to say.”

His smile is still a couple shades cooler than usual. “It’s alright. The heat is getting to us all, I believe.”

An olive branch, when you’re the one who snapped.

“I mean it. Heat or not, that was rude of me. ‘Specially since you’re right.”

Cause he is. Heat melts your brains to pudding, and you were about to stomp y’all past the correct intersection to take y’all back to the inn.

His smile thaws a touch. He inclines his head.

“Now you’ve done it,” Astarion says. “He’s going to be insufferable all day.”

“Being correct is not being insufferable,” Gale says, one finger held up, the spitting image of some college professor. “Especially when it saves all of us time and effort in this truly insufferable mugginess.”

Poor man don’t know muggy. That’s when the backs of your hands sweat. Muggy is when the air’s so wet it’s almost hard to breathe. It’s one-hundred-and-thirteen goddamn degrees Fahrenheit with ninety-five percent goddamn humidity.

But you keep that shit to yourself because you fucked up and he’s owed a dunk on you.

As y’all turn up the (correct, this time) road, Astarion sidles in. Gives you a glance and the smallest line creases his brow.

“’M okay,” you say.

He nods. Bumps his hand against yours in his totally-not-a-stray-cat way of asking for attention. You thread your fingers through his gloved ones, and the both of you pretend that don’t soften his entire posture.

The inn is only half full. They got alcove beds along the walls, so you and Astarion decide to share. The two of you set up the privacy screen, and he changes into sleep pants while your back is turned.

Cazador McFuckface is dead. Astarion is a free man, and y’all have been intimate. But you still give him his modesty, always; it seems to please him beyond words. You can tell in the soft sigh as you turn away and leave him to it. In the languid movements of his limbs as he finishes and slides onto the mattress (only grumbling a little at the poor quality of the linens). In the roundness of his eyes as he stretches out and waits for you to join him.

He's still a murder hobo and a thieving, snarking, asshole gremlin. But there’s more to him, now.

You fiddle with your trousers. It really is too hot to sleep in clothes; back home, you always slept bare. It’s how you landed on an alien ship buck-ass naked.

He seems to sense this dilemma. Murmurs, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

And then gives you a saucy little wink, the dork.

So you shuck off all but your smallclothes (that he sewed for you; nothing says “You’re fine I guess” like a man sewing you some drawers) and scooch in after him. He shuffles closer to the wall while you reach up to untie the cord holding the bed curtain open.

It’s only the illusion of privacy—Lae’zel murmurs to Shadowheart across the room and Karlach’s familiar snores already fill the air. But it’s a mental thing, and you turn and Astarion snuggles into you.

“God that’s nice,” you say.

One benefit of him being undead is the man don’t produce body heat. Which means he’s nice and cool against you. Which was real weird at first (something air temperature shouldn’t move or speak), but it’s him and he’s safe, so this feels like him, like safety.

He groans in response—the downside of undead is the man don’t produce his own body heat. Which means his joints get achy unless he’s fed within the last day, or he’s got a nice, large lover blasting him with her own furnace heat.

You’re tired and vaguely hurting. Astarion likes to be the little spoon, and when he’s facing you, he koala’s onto your front. Face tucked in against your neck (or your cleavage; “you make a fantastic pillow, darling”), arms wrapped around your middle, legs all tangled with yours.

But it’s so damn hot, and the walking was too damn long. Your body thrums. Bastard won’t settle. You become too aware of his habitual breath fanning your skin. Of his coolness against you. The arm slung over your ribs.

It’s easy to imagine that mouth of his opening. Tongue snaking out to lap at you, blunt front teeth nipping up and up. Until he finds your lips and—

You shift.

His crotch is right there. Ain’t nothing going on, but you know now what he feels like when he presses against you. When he ruts against you, eyes closed to slits, forgetting to breathe. His hand around yours on his cock as he shows you how to pleasure him. The salty, bitter tang as he comes in your mouth—

“Shit,” you say and shift your legs. Astarion nuzzles against your neck but otherwise says nothing.

Y’all’ve had sex in public. Had sex in an alley. In an inn. But none of those was this close to y’all’s friends. Curtains muffle sound about as well as tent fabric, but they been pitching their tents away from your shared one for some time and for a damn reason. You always thought you were quiet. Turns out, with a partner, not so much (it’s the shit he says; his pick-up lines were so over-the-top they was kinda funny, but when he means it? Who-wee).

You sigh. It’s been a long day. Y’all need to sleep.

You try to shift your hips without dislodging him, hoping to find the right angle to ease the general achiness—

“That’s going to make it more difficult for me to trance, darling,” Astarion says against your skin.

(You don’t shiver. That would be too desperate. And even if you did, he don’t mention it.)

“Sorry,” you say. “Kinda restless. You wanna sleep in separate beds?” Then he looks up and even in the curtained gloom, his eyes pick up that red shine like a monster in the woods come to lurk.

Okay, so you absolutely shiver. You feel his smile, slow and syrupy, against your collarbone.

“Who said anything about leaving?” he says.

This man. What he does to you. You try to run your fingers through your hair, but it’s dark, you’re human, and you catch his ear instead.

Now he shudders. Presses a kiss to where your neck and shoulder meet.

“Are you…?” you say, because you ain’t always good at reading people and this man in particular is real good at getting himself misread on purpose.

His cool fingers slip down your belly to tease along your smallclothes as his mouth opens to suck on your neck (it’ll bruise). His fingers trace lower, lower…

You clasp a hand over your mouth.

“Offering to help you work through whatever has you so bothered?” he says.

Heat rushes between your legs. You are so horny for him it’s ridiculous. His hand lifts so he can trace along your outer thigh. Then his knee slots between your legs.

“Be a dear and bring this up over my hip, hmm?” he says, tapping a pattern on your thigh. “Open your legs for me, my love.”

“But everybody’s so close.”

He sucks at the damn love bite. He loves leaving marks on you. You think you like him leaving marks on you.

“So long as you stay quiet,” he says, voice gone soft and lilting as his fingers tease under your smallclothes to stroke lower.

The rest on AO3.

#full-bodied and red #these two shitheads #astarion smut #bg3 smut #tavstarion smut #period kink #astarion period kink #blood kink #vampire shenanigans #these two are so weird #idiots in love #they're both assholes

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dira333 · 6 months

Text

Little Feet - Touya x Reader

For my Follower Celebration. I wrote this in the Passing Peonies Universe, I hope my Anon Requester won't mind.

The bell chimes as the door opens. Rico smiles as he gingerly makes his way through the shop, careful not to throw any plants of the shelves. Not for the first time Touya is amazed how he could have ended up with a job like this with a Quirk like his.

“Himiko.” Touya calls for her. “Your husband is here.”

Himiko is nothing but a flash of blond hair and a green apron as she moves past him, leaping into Rico’s arms with a shriek.

“Baby!” She peppers kisses over his face and Touya turns away to give them some privacy.

You’ve come out from the back room as well, carrying a Bonsai in your arms.

“Let me.” He moves over to take the heavy plant from you, taking the time to press his mouth against your temple.

“We’re going out for lunch.” Himiko declares somewhere from behind him and he turns, comment ready when he notices something that has him freeze.

He knows Rico to be protective, kind and overall gentle with everything that he does. But this is new.

Himiko is standing in front of him, holding his left hand with both of hers, playing with his wedding ring. That’s a common sight but Rico’s right hand is protectively splayed over Himiko’s belly in a way that can only mean one thing.

Your hand lands on his elbow a second too late, as his tongue moves faster than his brain.

“Are you pregnant?” He asks and Himiko’s eyes flick up to his, something like fear visible in her eyes.

“Yes.” Rico answers for his wife. “We are.” There is so much pride in his voice Touya can feel it settle around him, like the first snow of the year.

You gush excitedly next to him and not for the first time it feels like there are two separate conversations going on. One between you and Rico and one between him and Himiko.

He swallows thickly and thinks what he wants to say. What she needs to hear…

“They better call me Uncle Touya.” He says, “The kid, I mean.”

Himiko’s face changes in slow motion, her eyes grow big with surprise before they fill with a soft fondness she rarely shows openly to anyone but those closest to her.

“Course.” Rico says and looks down at Himiko. “Right?”

“Yeah.” She nods. “Of Course.”

They leave soon after for their lunch date, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask and step closer, take his hand and play with his fingers.

“I didn’t know they were planning to have children.”

“Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t.” You shrug. “But they are happy and they have all means necessary to raise a happy and healthy child.”

“Do you want children?” He turns to look at you. “I mean I know you want children and I want them too but I’ve been so caught up in just living one day after the other, I forgot to think about that we’re getting older and-”

You laugh softly and kiss him.

“We’re not that old yet, Touya. We still have time if you don’t feel ready yet.”

“How about that?” He asks. “I’ll make sure that each day turns out nice and you’ll take the planning for the future?”

You laugh again. “We’re already doing that anyway, Touya. But yes, let’s do it that way.”

🪷

Two yellow eyes blink back at Touya in a mess of chocolate pudding.

“Izumi.” He huffs softly and is rewarded with a bright, cheeky smile. “Yes, you know exactly what you did, I’m sure.”

The boy, barely one and a half years old yet big for his age, smashes his hands down into the mess covering his plate.

“I thought you loved chocolate pudding.” Touya grabs some wipes from the counter and starts wiping the boy's face, careful to be gentle.

With a groan, you wake up from your nap. Touya sends you a smile over the head of Izumi who’s at least not fighting against getting cleaned up.

“You’re already eating?” You ask, rubbing your face. “How long did I sleep?”

“Just long enough for Izumi to redecorate his face. When’s Himiko coming to pick him up? Did she say anything?”

“I don’t remember.” You yawn and sink down into the pillows again. “Gosh, I’m so tired.”

“That’s your coffee consumption coming back to haunt you.” He teases you and pulls Izumi out of his high chair.

The boy giggles happily as he gets carried over to where you are.

“Aunty.” He says softly, stretching out his arms towards you. Touya looks down at him, pride filling his chest.

“Yes, that’s right Izumi. That’s Aunty. Can you say Uncle too?”

“Dada.” Izumi blinks up at him.

“No, not Dada. Rico is Dada. You know, the big guy who puts you to bed every night?”

“Mama.” Izumi smiles brightly and you giggle at the defeated look on Touya’s face.

“Not Mama either. If you keep this up, I won’t let you play with our daughter when she’s born, you hear me?”

“Don’t be mean, Touya.” You huff and pull Izumi closer to you. The boy looks up at Touya and curls around your belly as if he knows that someone important is growing inside of it.

🪷

His daughter is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

She’s red faced and wrinkly, hands balled to fists and screaming her head off.

Her eyes are as blue as his, capturing him the first time she opens them.

There are no words for what he feels. Warmth is seeping into every fiber of his body as he holds her, little Touju. This is a new kind of fire and one he never wants to go out.

“Look at her.” He tells you as Touju drinks eagerly, one of her tiny hands free from the blanket she’s wrapped in. “She’s so perfect.”

He kisses your temple, presses his face into your hair to hide his tears. But you know him better than that, your free hand finding his. You offer him comfort with your touch, a hand to hold onto.

“I wonder if my Dad felt this way.” He tells you in a whisper, the words barely getting past his throat. “When I was born.”

“I think he did. I can’t imagine a parent not feeling this way for their child.”

He curls around you on the small hospital bed, wishing he could freeze his moment forever. Just you and him and Touju and nothing to be afraid of, nothing that can hurt any of you.

“Why wasn’t he a better father then?” He asks, tears burning in his eyes, choking him. “Why-?”

“Touya.” Your voice is soft but firm enough to pull him out of his mind.

“I don’t want to excuse your fathers behaviours in the past but you cannot forget that he did not have any support besides your mother. You’ve been able to utilize therapy and other support. You are not the same.”

He falls silent after that, bringing your joined hands up to rest them under Touju, holding her close.

You don’t speak either, allowing him to process the moment.

🪷

There’s no better thing than spending Sunday Mornings with his daughter on his chest while you sleep next to him.

Touju shares his tendency to wake up early, but as soon as she’s fed she falls quiet again. Her warm body fits perfectly against his and he smiles at her whenever she manages to lift her head to look at him.

There’s no better thing than her sweet babbling, her excited giggles or the face she makes when she eats, fully content with the world.

Touju might be the most loved child in the world.

His mother sewed her baby blanket by hand and the stuffed yellow duck that never leaves Touju’s side was made by your mother.

His brothers and sister have a groupchat where they discuss who gets to babysit next and his father is known to hijack their plans by showing up first.

And then there’s Izumi.

The backroom is littered with pictures of the two children.

Izumi holding Touju. The two of them cuddled up during a picnic.

He’s close to his own little brother Yasushi, but he’s closer to Touju.

And when the worry comes knocking at Touya’s heart, your hand is there to hold his, to remind him… That you’re the one planning the future and he’s the one taking care of the day.

🪷

Touju’s fourth birthday has come and gone without any sign of her Quirk.

She’s not too interested in it either, not when there’s so much other stuff to do.

“Too-chan.” She climbs into his lap during breakfast. “Can I come to work with you today?”

“Hmm?” He looks down at her. “You want to come to work with me?”

“YES! I want to help with the garden too!”

“Are you sure? Izumi comes into the shop after school.”

That has her rethinking her wish, lower lip caught between her teeth as she ponders her plans.

Touya looks over to you and stretches out his hand to softly caress the swell of your belly. You rest your hand on his, halting him in his movement just in time to make him feel his son kick.

“Too-chan…” He looks down at his daughter who seems to have come to a decision.

“Can we come back home early? I want to spend time with Izumi.”

“No, baby. I can’t come back home early. We’re at a tight schedule with the garden. But I can ask Aunt Fuyumi to pick you up after work and walk you home? Is that okay?”

She furrows her brows, distraught by having to choose between spending time with her father or her best friend.

“Okay.” She says finally. “But can we cuddle before we go to work?”

“Of course.”

Touju sinks into him, face pressed against his chest just like she’s done as a newborn.

Touya moves, careful not to disturb Touju, until he sits right next to you, elbows knocking into each other.

“Hey beautiful.” He kisses you.

You hiss into his kiss and he looks down at your belly.

“Touju.” He tells his daughter quietly. “I think you need to teach Hyouta to be a bit nicer to Mama.”

🪷

They have gone over this so many times already, Touju’s rolling her eyes sassily as he explains again.

“This is important, Baby.” He tells her with his best Dad-voice. “Can you repeat what I just said?”

“If I feel funny, I have to step back from other people and hold up my hands in case my quirk is coming in. I have to find the nearest grown up and wait until the feeling passes.”

“Exactly. You’re doing great, baby. Until we know what your quirk is it’s best to be cautious, okay?”

“Are you afraid that it’s going to be fire like Grandpa?” Touju asks as she takes his hand to walk the short distance from the car to the garden they’re working in today.

“Any quirk can be dangerous when used wrong.” He explains and she cocks her head to the side to look at him.

“But Aunty Himiko was afraid, right? Izumi told me that she cried a lot before his quirk got in.”

“Aunty Himiko has been treated badly because of her quirk in the past. She didn’t want Izumi to be treated the same.”

“I think Izumi’s quirk is the coolest.” Touju exclaims with confidence. “He should become the next Symbol of Hope.”

“You think so?” He brushes a hand through her hair that she wanted to keep open today.

“Yeah! He’s like the Phantom Thief, but cooler!”

“Well, you gotta tell Uncle Izuku then.”

“I did. Uncle Zuku said he thinks that it’s a great idea.”

“That sounds like him. Now, come on. We got to get to work.”

He turns away from her for a second to unlock the heavy gate to the garden.

When he turns back, Touju look at him in a way he hasn’t seen before.

“Are you okay, Baby?”

“I feel weird.” She says, her voice high with anxiety. “Is that my Quirk coming in?”

“That depends. Take a deep breathe, okay? Like that. You’re doing great, Baby.”

Touju takes a deep breathe, then another. Her hands, still so tiny against his own, shake in front of her as they hold a perfect golden flame.

Touya sinks on his knees and puts his hands beneath hers, holding them steady.

“Look at it.” He says, his voice soft. “This is your gift.”

“Like Grandpa?” Touju asks, her voice breathy.

“And Uncle Shouto and me. This is your quirk.”

“Are you mad that it’s fire?” Touju’s voice shakes like her hands had before. The flame disappears as if it hadn’t been there at all.

Touya pulls her close, wraps her up tightly in his arms.

“No.” He says, knowing that it’s the truth. “I could never.”

🪷

@misfit-megumi @shoulmate @pixiesavvy @the2ndl @neko-my-cat @chelseaquake @tiredslepz @frozen-phoenix17 @spltbtch @touyasprettydoll @dream-girl-stuff @fuzztacular

Tagged all my Passing Peonies Friends.

#Follower Celebration #Little Feet #My writing #Passing Peonies #Touya x reader #Dad!Touya #Dabi x reader #Touya fluff #Dabi fluff #Soft Touya #Soft Dabi #My Hero Academia x reader #MHA x reader

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anemo-hypostasis · 1 year

Text

The Idiot | Alhaitham/Reader

Pairing: Alhaitham/F!Reader

Summary: Three gifts have been given to Alhaitham. Each is regretted. None can be taken back. By the docks of Port Ormos, the recipient himself comes knocking. TLDR: you and Alhaitham grow up together.

“I am a fool with a heart but no brains, and you are a fool with brains but no heart; and we’re both unhappy, and we both suffer.” - Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Idiot

Forewarnings: slight nsfw, angst, hurt no comfort, childhood friends. 18+ only.

Note: This is the most convoluted and choppy piece I have ever written, so advanced apologies and sincerest regrets!

WC: 5.3K

In this world, giving and receiving are referred to as a couplet. Like the concluding lines in a Shakespearian sonnet, fresh cream and cut peaches, or the blazing sun and the gentle moon. Many items, ideas, and actions are destined to pair in the same way giving and receiving are. It is a shame that you have given everything, yet received nothing. Like death harvesting life, an endless bonfire gobbling up surrounding air, or soldiers losing lives to fight soldiers losing lives. Sometimes, it is hard to define it as an equilibrium, because it never evens out. It is Newton’s cradle, never existing in the same state yet existing together. Like Kepler’s elliptical orbits. Like an oil spill in the harbor.

The anchorage of Port Ormos brings sound to a once-silent ocean. Merchants advertise Inazuman lacquerware, the newest Sumeru City fashion fads, and bottled fragrances. Rose custard is sold instead of padisarah pudding. Intricate rugs of cobalt blue and sanded beige are sold on the street corner. I remember you. The smell of adhigama leaves. I remember everything about you.

“I didn’t expect you to be one for seafaring.” He smells like Port Ormos, even though he’s a city boy. He’s been here for too long, and the stench has clung to him.

“It’s nice to escape for a little bit. Sumeru City is suffocating sometimes. I’m sure you know how it is,” He doesn’t respond or settle down. Just does what he always does - looms. The wind tussles his cloak as you continue, “I heard you got a promotion.”

“Not for long, I hope. Being the Grand Sage doesn’t have any appeal to me. I much prefer the mediocrity and flexibility of my last position.” He never has been one for material gains or a boost in reputation. He told me as much. Did he change his hairstyle? I wish you would’ve just lied.

Perhaps that is why you have always given. The man who is uncaring about how he is perceived disregards the people around him. How delusional were you?

First, you gave him your word. It was five years short of a score ago, by the banks of the Sumeru River. People always scold children not to play in it because of the spinocrocodiles and its pollution, but at the time, it appeared magical. The ghost of the moon floated on the rushing current, and the two of you sat on a purple beach towel in hopes of seeing the soon-to-come eclipse. It had taken days of begging, but at the end of it all, you had gained both permission and a basket of packaged baklava.

“Did you know that one pistachio tree consumes forty gallons of water?” Plucking a stray pistachio in his mouth, the boy began devouring the preserved dessert. Honey and oil coated both of your hands, catching in your hair and smudging your face.

“Then how come they’re dry?” You responded, still chewing.

“Ew, don’t talk with your mouth full. But, that’s a foolish question. The tree is not the same as the nut.” The boy’s eyes, cut in ornate lozenges, are blocked by sun visors handed out by the Rtawahist Darshan; his focus is transfixed on the moon’s iron-blood hue as if looking away could scare the celestial bodies back to normalcy and dissipate the scene. There is an identifiable tenacity in that gaze. It’s something you know, but that you never speak into existence. Like basic arithmetic. Like the burn of a red stove. Like adult secrets.

“It’s nice that you just, like, know everything. I wish I were like that… my governess always yells at me ‘cause I never remember anything.” The words are laced with the naivety of a child, but the boy, never adhering to the norm, musters a sardonic scoff.

“That’s why I don��t have a governess or attend school. It’s much better for self-study, and there’s no one to hold you back in the name of collectivism,” There is a slight humor in the way the boy, no older than twelve, conducts his speech. It is an ironic contrast, the sweet tone of a child pronouncing diction used in seminar recounts, research essays, and upperclassman-level textbooks. He adds, “But I understand this is a situation unique to me. Most individuals my age are not as advanced in intellect, so this method may not benefit them. People think me odd or uneducated because of it.”

“I’d never think that of you. I mean, so many boys are so cruel and mean, but you’re so smart and never act like that on purpose. Like how you knew about everything the Rtawahist presenter was sharing. I don’t like everyone else.” The moon augments into a shade reminiscent of curdled blood as you dote, and the boy does not stray from its view. He sighs.

“It will be hard for you to make other friends that way. Isolated friendships are unhealthy. Time should be evenly distributed across numerous interests.” How cold. Chilled gales connect themselves to pale strands of hair. Like dew on a frosted morning. Like streams of snowmelt.

“But you don’t hang out with other people, and you’re fine.” You refute.

“I’m different from other people. Even though you might not realize it yet, you’re not like me. Limiting yourself to me is rash and will cause you suffering.” The cicadas descend from a choir to a solo. The moon, basking in Tevyat’s figure, converts to full crimson. The Sumeru River is alight with God’s plague as if you and the boy had struck a staff into its icy peaks and converted it to blood yourselves.

“I’ll always be with you,” Like faith and doubt. Like bread and wine. Like iron and coal. He stills, and you continue, “I won’t ever hate you, so let’s stay together, Haitham.”

The Port is privy to action at hours subsequent to midnight. Legality is blind in the encompassing darkness of dusk, and the harbor reveals its covert treasures: women, contraband, and manpower. The Sab Al Bahr, your method of transport, had docked for the customary enterprises of nightlife in Port Ormos. Three women from Liyue - Lihua, Qingyi, and Tao - had made for excellent yet bittersweet company among the crew. By now, they will have been escorted to their new residence among the harrowing back alleys of Ormos, confined to a destitute bed in a room of a dozen similar women. The aura of liveliness comes at a cost of livelihood. Giving and receiving. Ebb and flow.

“It’s been years, hasn’t it? Since we’ve talked.” Unfamiliar awkwardness permeates the air. The estrangement of the familiar always leaves unease of a horrendous nature. I remember when I knew you. I remember when you knew me.

“I’d estimate around four. Our correspondence leaves much to be desired,” He sits on the garden curb behind you. There is disfavor in his voice as he asks, “Did you come from Sab Al Bahr?”

“It was convenient from Liyue to Magador to Ormos. They’re not so bad.” Shame crawls up your cheeks, invisible to the naked eye but prominent to your senses.

“Liyue… Prostitutes and finery, I presume? I can’t say I judged you as the type. The lifestyle of a pirate is quite different from that of a scholar. Even living amongst them must be quite the culture shock.”

“I never was quite the scholar. Not like you. The passion left after I had my thesis rejected four times in a row, I think.” There is humor in your tone, poking fun at the detriment that appeared so intense once upon a time. The scuffle of decal boots approaching the dock’s ledge made you look back. The man sat down, a grimace tugging at groomed eyebrows and thin lips.

“Naeem Farhat was your chosen advisor. That was your first mistake - he was known for nitpicking any details that he found tedious or against his personal bias. It takes a student with a near-identical mindset to succeed under his tutelage. Personally, I thought Kifaya Hakim was the best choice for you; she provides critical yet honest feedback and focuses on celestial movement patterns in conjunction with various geological points.” There it is. That all-knowing attitude, removed from pleasantries and ample in diluted self-righteousness. I loved all of you. Some people never change. I admired every part of you.

“Had you told me that, I would have chosen her, but you were gone for research in Devantaka. I went with my instinct.” It is a bit bitter, now that the statement has been dispersed into the salty air. Like the white flesh of pomegranates mixed with red seeds. Like raw and unaged pu-erh.

“Sometimes,” he pauses, “It is important to make choices without outside influence.”

The second coffer offered to him was a pearl to a clam; it was your heart, faithful and unadulterated. It shined with iridescence in his monochromatic grasp, esteemed and coveted. To this day, it is your penultimate regret. Gifting love to the wrong individual is a most punishing mistake.

The boy, now eighteen, sits in his grandmother’s abundant library when you give him your gift. He has never pursued public education, but the flurry of excitement in the neighborhood as families convene to photograph daughters and sons in graduation gowns is a contagion; unavoidable. The pleated mint fabric is embroidered with the braids and twists of vines, as homage to Greater Lord Rukkhadevata. One cord with twists of navy and beige rests on your shoulders, akin to ancient Roman laurels of olive and blossom.

“Do you think you’ll come to the ceremony?” You ask, watching as he flips to the next page of Metaphysics. He doesn’t meet your eyes, opting to scribble a note in the margins of the aged paper.

“I had planned to finish reading this, but… I suppose I could attend. Just for your section. Since your class is around two-hundred people, I’ll come about twenty-five minutes in. Is that agreeable?” Part of you wonders if he is writing a reminder to himself. Nodding, your lips turn up and you ruffle the boy’s silken hair.

“Thanks! I would’ve been very upset. God, this gown is so frumpy… Oh, by the way, I had, uh, something to ask. It’s kind of important, so would you mind looking at me?” Eyes like cut jade diced with topaz flicker up, and he closes the book with slowness. He raises an eyebrow as if to say, what’s so important? Hands, nimble and uncalloused, motion for you to speak.

“So, we’ve been friends for a while, and I enjoy being friends with you, so I want to preface this by saying that no matter what, you are a friend first and foremost..” you gulp, hesitant, before sighing, “I really like you, Haitham. Romantically. Even though it’s selfish of me, I can’t help but hope you feel the same way. If you don’t, that’s fine - I would never hold it against you.” Distant cheers erupt from the parallel side of the library’s window, emphasizing the blankness of noise collapsing in on you. The boy sighs.

“I had my suspicions,” He stands from the algae-toned couch, extending with, “But I didn’t think you’d confess before graduation. Isn’t that a bit risky? Standing between fine lines seems to be a hobby of yours.” It’s zaytun peach season in Sumeru City. Bushes grow plump with heavy bodices of sugared flesh and skin, and the city becomes alight with scent. The delicate fragrance tangos around your nostrils, and you use it as a distraction. Later, when this humiliation is foregone, you’ll sink your canines into the flesh of a fresh peach, and the affliction of rejection will slide down your throat as if it had never been birthed.

“That being said, I thought it was obvious enough that I shared your sentiment. Have you really been worrying over such a trivial detail as to whether I share your affections? Relationships are of little importance to me. People in this world often cause their own problems and make life harder for themselves; pleasure seekers land themselves in debt, self-important authorities expose themselves to dangers, and lovesick partners spend their lives attempting to appease another. Having a relationship is just another engagement filled with more trifles than necessary. Do you understand?” Ice purges itself down your spine. His gaze is hot and immovable as if delving into the mush of the human psyche in an attempt to draw an answer. Like a hook caught in the flank. Like the milliseconds before an earthquake. Like a judge at the podium.

“I won’t pressure you, but I want you to know that I would accommodate you. Love is not a one-size fits all. Haven’t we known each other since toddlerhood? I think if there are any two people that are capable of adjusting to the other’s needs, it’s us. So please, don’t say yes, but don’t say no, either.” Desperation bleeds from a trifecta of the human body - tone, expression, pose - and scurries to the ground. It curdles and coalesces by the boy’s feet, a single evolutionary leap short of being able to climb up his legs, chest, and mouth. It is almost able to devour him, but not quite. He runs pale hands through sleek hair, a sparse yet meaningful action that communicates a genuine dilemma.

“Okay. I’ll consider it. But if your expectations remain unsatisfied, and a chasm develops between us, don’t be surprised,” the boy caresses the spine of Metaphysics and excuses it to the daystand, saying, “Don’t let me ruin a good day. Graduation is meant to be celebratory. Come on, let’s go together. It’ll be faster.”

By the windowsill, the boy’s grandmother has set out a lustreware bowl filled with zaytun peaches. Their skin is exquisite, glinting in the light as if waxed, and a pink-to-magenta gradient paints them in the image of a summer Sumerian sky. The boy grabs one as he leaves the archway.

He grabs your hand in the same archway two weeks later, warning you of all its hazards and rough edges. But the young are naive, concerned with the future, and dismissive of the present, and two hands come to reciprocate his.

Djafar Tavern hosts a diverse audience. Ayn Al-Ahmar Eremites sit in isolated pluckings. Street dancers weave themselves into the edges of sidewalks and patios, hoping to glean gold and mercy from tavern patrons. Researchers admit fatigue and failure in research and seek comfort in the dulling buzz of oncoming pints. The man sits across from you, one ankle crossed at the knee and knuckles flush against his cheek. Copper liquid sits idle in his mug.

“I happen to remember a certain scribe getting so wasted, he wretched into the bushes for ten minutes straight.” The tendrils of alcohol have tickled your cheeks. Each word comes out more vivacious than planned, and the man across from you observes in amusement.

“Is that so? If my memory serves me, I happen to recall a young academic begging the aforementioned scribe to cook her a full-sized portion of biryani after a rough night out in Ormos.” Merriment is an exclusive color on the man, and it oozes from each syllable. Teasing, when done right, can be a rambunctious affair. Sweat beads on the wrinkles of his forehead and at the rear of your neck as a product of Sumeru heat and the excitement of reunion. The flax of alcohol seeps down and down, until the past and future evade your thought, leaving the remains of a sweltering fuzz.

“It’s so odd. I’ve been upset with you for so long, but now, I can’t even remember why. Tell me, Alhaitham, what did you do? I can’t recall the details, but I’m sure you’ve done something…” Hiccups bubble up and out between strung-out utterances. The man, sober as he seems, is overrun by prominent reds and pinks on the apple of his cheeks. The tab for tonight is bound to be hefty - it requires an absurd amount of alcohol to inebriate him with low-quality beer. Sitting back, the trinkets on his belt create a quiet symphony of noise.

“I think we’ve both had too much to drink. This is sure to be a headache in the morning. It’s best I get you home now.” The sky is pigmented in hues of navy and onyx. It stands out amongst the depraved prostitutes, screeching merchants, and tainted light. Like an abyss beneath the sand. Like dancers in the rain. Like a whale beneath the ship. It is so unfaltering, unknown, and expansive. Droplets dew in the corners of your eyes. Stationed in the middle of the street, eyes never blinking, you watch the sky.

“Come now. There will always be another sky to watch. I need to get you home.” He needs to get me home. The cosmos moves in synchronization. Since when have you wanted me home? The stars, gaseous and alight, provide entertainment as two strangers walk the boulevard. Since when have we been strangers?

Like the Three Wise Men, you adorn the boy with gold, frankincense, and myrrh of your own. Gold appeals to all, but its merit does not hold up to true testaments of need; it is fragile, and the teeth of the mouth can damage its delicateness with ease. Frankincense is a traditional offering to God himself, representing love and devotion. It designates its recipient as divine and deserving of worship. Myrrh anoints the corpses of the bygone, and its role as a gift symbolizes the sacrifice of death. It is giving without receiving. For the offering of myrrh, you relinquish flesh.

Rtawahist textbooks cast a shadow over the blank canvas of an assigned paper labeled “On the Relation Between Starshrooms and Celestial Objects.” Dozens of researchers and undergraduates sit in identical positions, hunched above a pile of papers adjacent to an impressive tower of established sources. Studies on the Biological Evolution of Starshrooms. Phases of Constellations and Celestial Movement. Changes in Biodiversity in Relation to Month. It sent rivulets of vexation down your limbs, increasing in intensity the longer the pen in your hand remained motionless.

“I just don’t get it. People have submitted far less appealing work to him, and he accepts it with no issue! I mean, one person was missing an entire body paragraph, and he took it!” The skin of your palms grants reprieve to the ache of your pupils, rubbing up and down in hopes of relieving a fraction of the tension flitting across your expression.

“Currying favor is a common practice in smaller classes. If your work isn’t revolutionary and the professor has a bad impression, bias can play an important factor in whether or not you pass.” The man, now twenty-two, is enchanted by the booklet in his grasp. Homological Mirror Symmetry. Even so, he spares a glance at the disappointing lack of substance positioned on the opposite side of the adhigama desk. One blue and white lampshade illuminates the space, creating an intimate and closed-off aura.

“Do you think I haven’t tried that? I have. I gave him baklava, zaytun peaches from the Bazaar, and a coupon to Puspa. I think he’s biased against women - did I ever tell you how there are no other women in my class? Tell me that’s not the craziest coincidence!” In your petulance, the disengagement of the man across from you remains unseen. So, when he proposes a heinous question in the public ambiance of the House of Daena, it comes out rash.

“Do you dislike that we haven’t had sex?” He does not coat bitter apples in sugar or insist on that which is roundabout. It aids in the directness of communication within the relationship, but in moments such as these, it can be overwhelming. Spit sputters from your throat as you regain composure.

“I’m-I’m sorry? Haitham, you can’t just say those things in public! Jeez, imagine if someone heard you… can’t we talk about it later?” Each affricate is squeezed between teeth, hissing and aggravated. The man is unphased, eyes locked onto yours.

“It’s just a simple question. People our age engage in hook-up culture and sex, and our bodies are biologically the most receptive to desire at this life stage. Despite this, we’ve only gone as far as kissing. I want to know if this upsets you, or if it seems like I’ve neglected your needs.” It is hard not to desire the man he has transformed into. Cultivated abs peek up from beneath his augmented uniform, his hair is lush and coated in grains of moondust, and there is a unique charm to his extensive intelligence. That being said, Sumeru City has a centuries-old culture of sexual shame and repression. It is to be consumed with caution, and in appropriate amounts, so as to avoid the dissipation of rationale and pragmatism. In some ways, his ability to overlook social norms in favor of reasonable logic is alluring. In others, it is humiliating. Like crime and punishment. Like a kiss upon the altar. Like a veil raised in love and lowered in grief.

“I mean, I’m not upset! I know physical affection doesn’t appeal to you, and I would never want to force you into something you don’t enjoy. That would upset me more than not… y’know…” Galesh heels hitting stark tile reverberate in the House of Daena - the environment is anything but private.

“Having sex? I see. In that case, let’s discuss this further at my apartment after lectures.” He heralds the book under his arm and marches off, as indifferent as a rock amidst a gouging river. Meanwhile, embarrassment has yet to settle into the bottom sediment of your nerves. Praying to Lesser Lord Kusanali that no Rtwahist peers overheard the conversation, you return back to “On the Relation Between Starshrooms and Celestial Objects” with novel zeal.

The evening of Sumeru City is lit to the firmament, artistic street lamps lining the pavement home. The man’s apartment is a short walk from the Rtwahist offices, and it has become an unofficial meeting spot between the both of you. The light emanating from inside is dim - it could be no more than a few candles lit - and a gnawing sensation comes to violate your senses. The pleasantry of knocking has long since been disposed of, and you step in.

The man sits on the ornate sofa in the center of the living room. On the coffee table sits a new book to conquer. Vita Sexualis. The corner of a navy bookmark peeks from its battered pages. It must have been too difficult to find a new copy; he preferred to have well-kept covers, if possible, so a cracked and yellowing title was a sign of uncharacteristic “settling.”

“Do you make a habit of reading state-banned erotica?” You joke, placing your rucksack on the floorboards and taking a seat next to him. He shrugs.

“If something is banned, doesn’t that make it all the more intriguing? Looking at what society deems ‘beyond the pale’ can say more about cultural norms than an entire course at the Akademiya,” Like clockwork, he repositions himself to face you. The physical closeness is off-putting after four years of sparse affection. The man continues, “Sexuality, in all forms, is looked down upon by the youth and elders alike. However, it is hardly something worth devoting fear to. Do you agree?”

“Sure, but that was never- I just didn’t think you’d want that from me.” His palms lift your chin. It is awkward. He has resented romance and insisted on the idiocy of its frivolities since childhood, but he knows the logistics of what is appealing and what is not. He knows you like it, and so he does it. Like covering ears and reading lips. Like fruit on the cutting board. Like an antidote to poison.

“I will admit that sex, alongside other typical gestures, is not a focus or concern of mine. That being said, I am far from opposed to it. I would like to experiment with it if you are consenting.” Silver tickles your cheek and he leans over. Excitement pulses through your bloodstream, sending tremors down your hands.

“I think I’d like that too, Haitham.” Lips meet lips in a delicate kiss as the skin of your hand merges with his neck. Those eyes, emboldened, roll down in sync with his palms. They caress the fullness of your cheek, the tips of your fingers, the curve of your waistline, the ridges of your trachea, the divots of your collarbones. Fire perches itself as a phantom of touch, burning into the skin. The musculature of his back flexes beneath your left hand as he covers your body. Leaning back on his heels, thighs flexing on the sides of your legs, he pulls the hem of his shirt up.

You savor him. Skin glows like moonlight under the approaching moon, and your fingers slide along the expanse of his stomach. Pushing yourself up, you catch his lips another time, and another, hands roaming across his pectorals and neck.

“Can I take your shirt off?” He asks between kisses, arms supporting the circumflex of your back. His wish is granted, and as he departs from your face, he pinches the Liyuean silk between his thumb, index, and middle fingers, pulling it up to reveal your chest. There is a technique behind each audacious caress; the subtle liberation of your bra, his built arms pressing you chest-to-chest, the chaste trail he paints down your abdomen. He pauses.

“Is something wrong?” You mutter, splayed out on the couch cushions. The nakedness is frightening, and now that the action has stopped, a shiver begins to tease your skin.

“I think we’ve reached the part where we strip. I don’t want to alarm you, so I’ll ask: is it alright if I fully undress you and myself?” His constant confirmation is reassuring, but a small section of your consciousness dwindles on the robotic nature of it all. Each action reeks of formulation and plagiarism - like a schoolboy gleaning answers from a neighbor, or an essay using sections of Akasha terminal outputs. I don’t care. I don’t care at all.

“Be my guest.” Then, you are bare against his chest. Everything is warm, and the man dons a charming flush across his cheeks and chest. His fingers are akin to a honey wand in a pot, covered in the fruits of his labor as he clenches your fingers with his free hand. Small groans and intakes of breath permeate the room, creating a sickly sweet humidity. When he unbuckles his slacks, you turn to the side, shock and shame intermingling into one. Noticing, his thumb catches your cheek.

“I promise to be gentle. Tell me everything that comes to your mind. Your input is important to me.” The moonlight has enveloped the entire room. Few corners are hidden under its judgment, and the man above you is a beauty. Like sparkles at sea. Like pearls clutched between strings. Like a golden girdle lost on the battlefield.

“I love you, Alhaitham.”

Port Ormos has one notable inn. The remaining options are either on the outskirts of town or surrounded by the “undesirables” of society. It is Najjar Palace, a one-star inn, that has the misfortune of hosting you. Outside of the dim entrance, Alhaitham holds your robes as you vomit into the bushes. It has been a few hours, and after an extended walk and a pitcher of ice water, soberness begins to creep in. Tears dot your face, and smudges of kohl mark your under eye.

“I’m sorry. Our first meeting in years, and I get shitfaced.” Regret blossoms in your countenance. He shrugs, handing the fine robes back to you.

“I can’t act holier than thou after becoming inebriated myself. Do you feel well enough to carry on?” The moon is a picturesque reflection of Lesser Lord Kusanali tonight. Its pale expanse is large and smooth, dust catching in its earth-bound light. Sitting down, you gaze at its fullness. How is it that the moon is always there for your more humbling moments?

“I feel good now.” He nods, then connects your focus to the brightness in the sky. He stares at it, too. Sighing, you state, “It's always here when we’re together. The moon.”

“It was a full moon that night as well, wasn’t it?” Alhaitham adds, cape draped against the cement floor.

“I didn’t even realize. I was so upset,” a breeze disrupts the branches above and you laugh, “I think there’s a journal somewhere where I compared you to about thirty different things. Some good, some bad, but the pages were filled with edgy similes. Like Kepler’s orbits, like Newton’s cradle…” You recount, snorting.

“I’m sorry,” Alhaitham says, a softness lining the clouds of his words. He stiffens, “I broke things off in a way that ignored your feelings. That was unusually inefficient of me.”

“...I tried to forget your name. It’s been so long since I’ve said it without scolding myself afterward. I tried very hard to forget you, Alhaitham.” One leaf falls onto your scalp, and you pluck it off and throw it to the brush. The atmosphere is refreshing. Genuine, yet understood.

“It is unbecoming to my personal morals to stay in a relationship forever tainted by inequality. For everything I gave, you gave much more. It never evened out, and it didn’t sit well with me.” He reveals, crossing his ankle over his knee yet again. You remember feeling that way - like he didn’t care. Just like he predicted. You remembered the betrayal when you found his belongings moved out and his contact changed. You remember when he left you, and you were forced to leave him. You remember thinking about him for the next year, jotting down notes in the leatherbound journal he had gifted you on your twelfth birthday.

Like the concluding lines in a Shakespearian sonnet, fresh cream and cut peaches, or the blazing sun and the gentle moon. Like death harvesting life, an endless bonfire gobbling up surrounding air, or soldiers losing lives to fight soldiers losing lives. Like Kepler’s elliptical orbits. Like an oil spill in the harbor. Like basic arithmetic. Like the burn of a red stove. Like adult secrets. Like dew on a frosted morning. Like streams of snowmelt. Like faith and doubt. Like bread and wine. Like iron and coal. Like the white flesh of pomegranates mixed with red seeds. Like raw and unaged pu-erh. Like a hook caught in the flank. Like the milliseconds before an earthquake. Like a judge at the podium.Like an abyss beneath the sand. Like dancers in the rain. Like a whale beneath the ship. Like crime and punishment. Like a kiss upon the altar. Like a veil raised in love and lowered in grief. Like covering ears and reading lips. Like fruit on the cutting board. Like an antidote to poison. Like sparkles at sea. Like pearls clutched between strings. Like a golden girdle lost on the battlefield.

You were everything that has ever been to me, you want to say. It beats true in your heart and veins, knocking at the bars like an aggravated prisoner, but nothing spews from your lips. Nothing but this.

“It’s late. Thank you for taking care of me, Alhaitham. Goodnight.” You don’t turn around to see his wave or nod or whatever nonchalant gesture he’s resorted to. The inn is 10,000 per night. You hand the receptionist 50,000. You unlock the room, rampant with musk and stains. You sit down on the sheets. Your eyes close.

In the morning, Alhaitham is nowhere to be seen. Everything feels a bit clearer. I think I am okay with remembering you now, you think. I am okay with forgetting, too. Remembrance and forgetfulness. Giving and receiving. What an idiot.

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x fem!reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham #genshin impact #genshin #genshin angst #anemo hypostasis #alhaitham/reader #alhaitham x f!reader #alhaitham angst

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coulsons-fullmetal-cellist · 2 months

Text

The Producer

(Dieter x horror loving female)

Words: 2, 137

Summary: it’s my birthday and wanted to do something fun, alsothis was my excuse to create my dream cast for a live-action Powerpuff Girls film!

Warnings: random celebrity cameos, lots of adorableness, Dieter being Dieter so some saucy suggestions

Check out masterlist here

“Dieter, who is that?”

“No one.”

Clara immediately popped up waving, “Hi mummy!”

You scooted over and kissed her on the cheek but kept that scolding glare on your husband.

“How many times have I told you not to bring her on set?”

“She wanted to see you.”

“Jojo!” she exclaimed.

“Did someone bring me a baby to cuddle?” Jack Black was already under a layer of makeup to portray said character, minus the big brain. Dieter plopped the eager toddler onto his lap which immediately started to jiggle.

“Pudding!”

“I’m 50% pudding!” Her laughter made it hard for you to be mad. Eventually you took her from the soft clutches of the actor.

“Say bye to Jojo.”

“Bye Jojo!”

You handed her off to Dieter. “Put her back in daycare before we start getting complaints,” you gave her another kiss on the cheek but kept up the stern face.

“Okay,” Dieter sighed and begrudgingly took Clara back to the on-set daycare.

It was a wonderful idea, an on-set daycare. Wonder why it wasn’t thought of before. It was thought up by the writer who had a child of their own and didn’t want to leave them with nannies. This brought several great people on to the project as they now no longer had to worry over who would look after their little ones of various ages. The director herself had a toddler and was overjoyed to have her close by and would bring her little Bianca on set. You were signed on as head of special effects makeup but mainly your job was bringing Mojo Jojo to life. Dieter was playing Professor Utonium and Clara had finally accepted the fact that her father was still the same person even though he had shaved his beard. Occasionally she would still glare at him with suspicion.

The whole cast and crew were very friendly, and everyone got on well. You had yet to meet the writers or producers, but they didn’t have to be on set as much as everyone else.

You read through Dieter’s script and absolutely loved how the film started as the Powerpuff girls were growing up and going to high school in Citysville while Professor Utonium had a mid-life crisis which gave Mojo Jojo the opportunity to lure his old creator into being a villain. But underneath the fun, cartoon-like joy was the fear of girls being made to grow up too quickly and losing childhood. You shed tears over Blossoms speech critiquing those who stole the chance for girls to be safe and not letting them stay children.

Right now, you were looking at the psychedelic set which was having its backdrop changed.

“Oh wow, it’s like Colour Out of Space!”

“It is,” you turned to the man next to you, “Wait, you’ve seen that film?”

*****

Dieter saw you in deep conversation as he left the set for the day and made his way over to the on-set daycare. Dieter loved the daycare as he loved being able to see his daughter almost anytime and give her a cuddle.

Clara had made several friends already as they had similar interests, mostly bugs. Bianca, the director’s daughter, had curly brown hair and brown eyes which immediately made them twins.

Dieter went over to the two girls, “Hello there Clara,” he said to Bianca.

The girls both giggled. “I’m not Clara,” said Bianca.

“You’re not?” he turned to Clara, “Hi Bianca.”

Again they both giggled. “I’m Bianca!” exclaimed her namesake.

“Daddy silly!” said Clara.

“Oh, I’m sorry Bianca,” Dieter said to his daughter who burst into even more giggles. He picked up the right little girl and gave Clara a big kiss on the cheek. Both of them waved bye to Bianca and Dieter gave an interested glance at her father who just walked in as Dieter walked out.

“Hello cupcake!” he carried her out to the car where you were waiting for them.

“You were being chatty with the producer,” Dieter said as he got in the car.

“Oh that was the producer? We were talking about Colour Out of Space. I don’t know anyone who’s watched it and I was so excited to talk about it with someone!”

Dieter mumbled something incoherent but shrugged it off.

“There’s something familiar about him but I can’t quite put my finger on what it is. He is somewhat adorable like you.”

“Adorable?”

“Not as adorable as you. No one is as adorable as you. Except Clara.”

“She can out-adorable anyone.”

*****

Dieter had snuck Clara onto set the next day. He was going to introduce her to his on-screen daughters.

“This is my baby girl, Clara. Cupcake, these are the Powerpuff Girls.”

Clara looked at the three actresses and pointed accordingly, “Bubbles, Blossom, Buttercup?”

Emma Myers, Halle Bailey and Shioli Kutsuna reacted the way one would when meeting the small, adorable offspring of Dieter Bravo, they cooed and fawned over her.

You hadn’t noticed all this as you were having another nerdy discussion with the producer.

“I’m sorry, I never really got your answer before but, what is your favourite film?”

“The question really should be what is my favourite film at the moment?”

He had a look that seemed similar to when your husband had discovered you put Kit Kats in something. “Wow, no one has ever asked me that before.”

“I always thought just narrowing it down to just a handful makes it really hard to decide.”

“Exactly!”

Dieter however, noticed this as he snuck Clara back to the on-set daycare.

“I saw you being very chummy with the producer today,” he asked you later at home.

“Oh we were having this discussion over The Wicker Man and wait, Dieter are you jealous?”

“No,” he mumbled.

You put your book down and looked at your husband. “Dieter, you have nothing to worry about. I’m ridiculously in love with you and nothing will change that. If Mike Flanagan showed up with a cheeseboard, I’d say thank you, but no.”

“But you’d take the cheeseboard?”

“Oh, absolutely!”

*****

The on-set daycare was filled with children eager for their parents to take them home. Clara made another friend called Ari. Her curls were golden honey so sadly she wasn’t a twin but her and Clara were best friends as they both loved spiders.

Clara saw her father enter the room and ran up to greet him. Upon getting closer, she realised this was not her father.

“Daddy?”

The man kneeled down, “I’m sorry bonita, I’m not your father.”

Ari came up beside her friend, “Papa!” She was welcomed with open arms by the man who looked like her father. Suspicions were already forming in her two-year-old brain.

You were picking up Clara today as Dieter was still rehearsing some last-minute choreography for the big crazy musical number where Professor Utonium has his mid-life crisis while also being seduced by all the Townsville villains including Him who was being portrayed by Yanis Marshall (aka, the dancing Deadpool in the Ashes music video, the voice provided later by Crispin Freeman and Kari Wahlgren) You walked into the room and found Clara in her one-sided glaring competition with the producer. She managed to break her glaring when you picked her up. She pointed at the man, “Not daddy?”

“That’s right, it’s not daddy. He looks nothing like him.”

But Clara went back to her evil glaring. The man who looked like her father but was not her father could only result in one conclusion.

“Evil daddy.”

“Why do you think he’s evil? He’s a very nice man.”

This man must be her father’s evil clone, it was the only thing that made sense. But it was hard for a toddler to explain this to her mother and the thought of explaining this made her feel tired and confused so she ended up just burying her face in your neck.

“I’m sorry,” you said to him. “Usually her dad picks her up, so she thinks you’re her dad. But he had to shave his beard and she must be missing it and saw yours so...” you shrugged.

“Oh no, that’s fine,” he turned to the girl in his arms. “Is this your friend?”

She nodded, “Spider.”

You both looked confused until you properly introduced your daughter.

“This is Clara.”

“Oh, nice to meet you Clara,” but she was too busy being tired and confused over the thought of her father having an evil clone to acknowledge this man.

Thankfully Clara had recovered when she was in the arms of her father, although he was confused when she was calling him real daddy.

“She’s missing the beard, as am I.”

He kissed both of you on the cheek, “I’m missing it too.”

Clara was overjoyed to see her actually father and not some evil clone.

“Not evil!” she exclaimed as she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck.

“Not evil?” he gave you a confused look, but you replied with an I’ll-explain-later look.

*****

The next day, you were immersed in your new book while on a tea break.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude your reading, but I couldn’t help but admire your book.”

Lifting your head, you came face to face with kind brown eyes, it was the producer who had become your new friend. There was a sort of familiarity to his eyes. You lifted up the book to show the full cover: Golem, Caligari, Nosferatu; A Chronicle of German Film Fantasy.

“My husband got it for me because he knew I’d love it. And I do.”

“So you’ve seen The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari?” he asked.

“Oh yes. Old films just have a certain quality to them modern films can’t replicate.”

“I completely agree. Is it one of your favourite films at the moment?”

“It is but I really like Nosferatu, mainly because it’s an early depiction of vampires. Oh, do you know the film Shadow of the Vampire?”

“Of course, a masterpiece to honour its original film,” you nodded in agreement. “Nicolas Cage produced that film.”

“He did?”

“Yes, he grew up with all those silent films.”

“How did I not notice?”

*****

It was the end of the working week and you and Dieter did not have to get up early the next day, so you indulged in tonight. Dieter was putting his heart and soul into every kiss. He’d been looking forward to this and slowly kissed down your neck. You were running your fingers through his hair, but suddenly, as your mind cleared, a forgotten thought entered your mind. You knew it would occupy until you found out, so you gently pushed your husband off you. Rolling off you in confusion, he watched as you left the bedroom. He quietly padded his way through the house, where he found you looking through your DVD collection.

“Honey cakes, what are you doing?”

“I just remembered something that I need to look up. My brain won’t shut up until I do.”

He sighed sympathetically, “I’ll turn the TV on.”

You followed him with your Shadow of the Vampire DVD. You pressed play and stared intently as the opening credits played. You paused when you found what you were looking for.

“There!”

Dieter squinted at the screen, “Nic Cage produced this?”

“Yeah I only just found out. I don’t know why I didn’t notice this before.”

“No one really pays attention to opening credits.”

“That’s true. Until they point out that there were clues hidden like in Malignant.”

He kissed your forehead, “That’s what trivia pages are for. Is your head feeling good?” You nodded. “Would you like me to give you some now?”

“I’m sorry I interrupted us before.”

“No need to apologise. We’ll just back to what we started,” he started nuzzling your neck.

“I just need to…”

“You put away the DVD and I’ll turn the TV off.”

*****

It was the start of a new week, and everyone was back to work, and the children were happy to be back with their friends again.

Once again, Dieter found you deep in conversation with the film’s producer. He wasn’t jealous. Why would he be? He had occasional immersive conversations with his wife but not lately. You were both working on the same film so you’ve both been so busy with that and dealing with a toddler. The two of you were still intimate but Dieter still felt like something was missing when he saw you talking with such animation in your whole expression. It’s not like he wanted to punch the man in the face, but he liked thinking about it.

You were once again deep in conversation when you saw Dieter approaching the two of you.

“Oh, hey Dieter. Have you met the producer?”

He held out his hand, Dieter reluctantly took it.

“Hi, I’m Javi Gutierrez.”

Yes, that’s right! Javi is now part of the Love of Horror Universe! To find out what he’s been doing, check out @cevans-is-classic because they have this story!

Lovingly tagging @boliv-jenta @simpingcowboy @ellenmunn @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @chaithetics @myloveistoolittle @glshmbl @cupcakehp @gswizzsstuff @nicolethered @blueeyesatnight @wannab-urs @meveispunk @morallyinept @djarinsimp

#pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #dieter x honey cakes #love of horror fanfic #love of horror universe #love of horror #dieter bravo #dieter x reader #the bubble netflix #the bubble

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sincerelyamee · 28 days

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[How I imagine Gojo teaching 5-year-old Megumi about his Ten Shadows technique aka recipe for disaster]

Most sorcerers with flashy innate techniques typically awake their powers around five or six years old - right around the same magnificent age they discover crayons are wonderfully effective for decorating more than just coloring books (RIP white walls everywhere).

Innate techniques in particular have a mind of their own, essentially “calling” to their user like an overly eager pet begging for treats and attention. One day, baby sorcerers just wake up, and bam - suddenly shadows are tugging at their skin or flames are sparking from their fingers, no warning or parental consent form required.

Little Megumi has been feeling the very first stirrings of his Ten Shadows for weeks now. Random surges of cursed energy that are definitely not just from sneaking extra pudding cups. Mysterious but insistent tugging sensations from the shadows, like ghostly hands trying to initiate a game of tag.

So, it’s time he gets some pointers on it, right? At least, that’s what Gojo decided.

On one peaceful morning, Gojo whisks out a whiteboard and markers from… somewhere. With such theatrical showmanship, one would think he was auditioning for Broadway itself. Yet the children serve as the ultimate tough crowd, responding only with raised eyebrows and curious glances.

Still, Gojo strikes a scholarly pose.

“Alright, my star pupil - Today’s lesson is on your badass upcoming technique!” Gojo announces, gesturing for Megumi to sit front and center.

As Megumi hesitantly takes his place, Nanako leans over to Mimiko. “How come he just happens to have a random whiteboard ready? Where does that even come from?” She whispers. Mimiko just shakes her head, too busy stuffing her mouth with chips.

“To start, your very first summons will be these adorable Divine Dogs!” Gojo proclaims enthusiastically. “Though at first, they’re more like Divine Pups…”

His marker zig-zags wildly as he tries sketching two majestic wolves. Emphasis on tries. The end results look something akin to a pair of mutant chickens wearing tutus. That elicits poorly contained giggles from the girls. Megumi simply stares, somehow experiencing all seven stages of grief simultaneously.

“Those are some weird chickens, nii-chan.” Tsumiki blurts out with all the sophistication of a future art critic.

“They look like they survived a nuclear blast,” Nanako adds.

Why does she even know what a nuclear blast is? Kids these days. Gojo makes a mental note to berate Geto later for letting the devil’s spawns watch too much TV. But since he’s Gojo, he forgets about it immediately. For now, he blinks down at his drawings, then back at the giggling, unimpressed kids.

“Clearly you heathens lack the artistic vision to appreciate my creative genius.” Gojo huffs before erasing his previous attempts in stunned outrage.

But Gojo Satoru isn’t one to give up easily, or ever.

Like a runaway freight train, Gojo charges full steam ahead. His Louvre-worthy artistic visions expand stranger the longer the ridiculous lesson continues. With each stroke of the marker, Gojo’s illustrations venture further into worlds unknown by man or beast. Eldritch creatures populate the poor whiteboard as head scratching and sideways glances spread among the children.

Megumi watches in dismay as the hours tick painfully on, the squeaking hamster powering his brain throwing itself from the rusty wheel. The last of his sanity packs its bags and flees into the abyss rather than witnessing more of Gojo’s artistic assaults against nature. At the rate this is going, he half expects his first summon to be a potato with Gojo’s face haphazardly drawn on it.

A glaring oversight dawns on the boy - for all Gojo’s useless prattling and monstrous drawings, explaining the actual summoning process appears a mere afterthought, if the man is even capable of actual thoughts at all. When asked, he simply waves off the question with a dodgy uh-huh. Just as effective as inquiring an orange tabby on quantum physics.

“It’s not that hard.” Gojo shrugs dismissively. “You’ll figure it out.”

Megumi rubs his temples, contemplating if it’s too late to grab Tsumiki and flee this madhouse, perhaps taking the twins as well. No one deserves such ruthless torture. Gojo may be well on his way to becoming another villain overlord with questionable artistic skills, but this? This right here marks Fushiguro Megumi’s very own villain origin story.

Staring blankly ahead in post-traumatic shock, Megumi knows one truth with the certainty of death itself - never, ever again will he make the fatal error of taking a lesson from Gojo. No, he must figure out this Ten Shadows technique solo going forward. Though now Megumi ponders whether deliberately summoning all those nightmarish abominations is something best avoided altogether.

read the whole thing here on Ao3: A Family of Villains - A wacky villain origin story/Kinda a slice-of-life fic exploring the logistics of 18-year-old sashisu being the greatest villains in the jujutsu world while on the run and raising 4 kids. Mostly fluff and humor of course.

#gojo x megumi #platonic relationships #jjk fanfic #jjk fanfiction #gojo satoru #jjk fluff #jujustu kaisen #gojo fluff #megumi fluff #megumi fanfic #megumi fushiguro #jjk fushiguro

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blackfeather96 · 1 month

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Songs that remind me of One Piece ships and why.

Lets start with:

Luffy x Boa - Addicted to you by Avicii

I think this songs describes Boa's obsession with luffy very well.

"You came into my crazy world Like a cool and cleansing wave Before I, I knew what hit me, baby You were flowing through my veins"

What can she do? It's Luffy :D

Sanji x Pudding - Stereo Love by Edward Maya and Vika Jigulina.

This song describes a bit the pain that Sanji went trough in Whole Cake Island, with Pudding's lies, yet he still tried to make it work. :(

"I can fix all those lies But baby, when I run, I'm running to you You won't see me cry, I'm hiding inside My heart is in pain but I'm smiling for you"

Usopp x Kaya - If you're not the one by Daniel Bedingfield.

Because in my heart, Usopp thinks about Kaya every sigle day and he loves her.

'Cause I miss you, body and soul so strong that it takes my breath away And I breathe you into my heart and Pray for the strength to stand today 'Cause I love you, whether it's wrong or right And though I can't be with you tonight You know my heart is by your side"

Robin x Law - Mirrors by Justin Timberlake.

Because of their similar past and personality. They have been trough a lot of pain, but Robin was healed in a way that Law wasn't yet, and In my delulu mind she can heal him.

"It's like you're my mirror My mirror staring back at me I couldn't get any bigger With anyone else beside me And now it's clear as this promise That we're making two reflections into one 'Cause it's like you're my mirror My mirror staring back at me Staring back at me"

Zoro x Tashigi - Another Love by Tom Odell.

Because the main reason why people ship them, is because zoro finds tashigi similar to Kuina, and it doesn't matter how their relationship will develop tbh, I think he will always see her as someone similar to Kuina.

"I wanna sing a song that'd be just ours But I sang 'em all to another heart And I wanna cry, I wanna fall in love But all my tears have been used up

On another love, another love All my tears have been used up On another love, another love"

Franky x Robin - We found love by Rihanna.

Because they met on a sea train on the way for their execution, and they did have some great moments there :)

"Yellow diamonds in the light Now we're standing side by side As your shadow crosses mine What it takes to come alive

It's the way I'm feeling I just can't deny But I've gotta let it go

We found love in a hopeless place"

Nami x Luffy - Believer by Imagine Dragons.

Because she was broken, but he made her a believer.

"I was broken from a young age Taking my sulking to the masses Writing my poems for the few That look at me, took to me, shook to me, feeling me Singing from heartache from the pain Taking my message from the veins Speaking my lesson from the brain Seeing the beauty through the...

Pain! You made me a, you made me a believer, believer"

Ace x Yamato - Thousand Years by Christina Perri.

Because Yamato was waiting for Ace to return, and he would still be waiting...

"I have died every day waiting for you Darling, don't be afraid I have loved you for a thousand years I'll love you for a thousand more"

Zoro x Sanji - One more night by Maroon 5.

Because they are always fighting :D If they are a thing, this is their song.

"You and I go hard At each other like we're going to war You and I go rough We keep throwing things and slamming the doors You and I get so damn dysfunctional we stop keeping score You and I get sick Yeah, I know that we can't do this no more, yeah

But baby, there you go again, there you go again making me love you Yeah, I stopped using my head, using my head"

Sanji x Nami - What are words by Chris Medina.

Because it doesn't matter where, when or how. Sanji will Always be there for nami.

"Anywhere you are, I am near Anywhere you go, I'll be there Anytime you whisper my name, you'll see How every single promise I'll keep 'Cause what kind of guy would I be If I was to leave when you need me most"

Zoro x Robin - She's crazy but she's mine by Alex Sparrow.

Because she's crazy, and he always saves her when she's in danger.

"The kinda girl who really loves to dance She loves to mess around with her friends Wanna know her now, wanna love her now I wanna make her be my girl She likes to give a smile to every stranger She loves to get her ass in any danger Wanna love her now, wanna love her now I wanna make her be my girl"

Hiyori x Zoro - Make you feel my love by Adele.

Because she fell in love for him in Wano and was always worried about him and took care of him when he was hurt, but he had to leave.

"When the rain is blowing in your face And the whole world is on your case I could offer you a warm embrace To make you feel my love

When the evening shadows and the stars appear And there is no one there to dry your tears I could hold you for a million years To make you feel my love

I know you haven't made your mind up yet But I will never do you wrong I've known it from the moment that we met No doubt in my mind where you belong"

Koala x Sabo - Can't help falling In love by Elvis Presley.

It's a simple yet beautiful song, as we haven't seen much about them, but I do think Koala couldn't help but falling in love with sabo. :)

"Take my hand Take my whole life, too For I can't help falling in love with you"

I probably forgot a lot of popular ships, tell me what you'd like me to write about next! Don't forget to give me your opinion and other songs for this ships!

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tf2-oneshots · 10 months

Note

Heavy and Medic experience the magical power of WEED. They also get drunk. So, in other words, Get high, do gay sex. Take that however you want.

Holy fuck…weed yaoi

Warnings: alcohol, weed

Rating: teen and up

Sniper takes out a small batch of brownies from the oven, sliding the metal tray onto the stove. Oven mittens removed, he uses one to fan them. While they cool, he leans against the counter to wait. The batch isn’t a normal one. These are pot brownies, and he’ll be damned if someone steals from him.

Elbows on the counter, the bushman miscalculates and accidentally hits the hot tray. He hisses, yanking the arm away from it. Sniper looks at the spot where a nasty burn forms. He runs it under cold water in the sink, but it remains.

“Piss…” A glance to the brownies. He can sneak off just for a few minutes, right? They’re still too hot for anyone to eat. He’ll pop into Medic’s office, get fixed up, and come right back. Simple as that.

Huffing, Sniper leaves the kitchen in search of the German doctor. Right as he passes through the left doorway, Medic enters with Heavy from the right. The sweet smell of brownies wafting through the air vents made it all the way to the common room they were just sitting in.

“Ohoho! They look delicious.” Medic takes a whiff, grinning at the delectable brownies just laying out in the kitchen. Pyro must have made the batch. On occasion, they leave cupcakes or cookies by the stove for the team to enjoy.

Heavy takes out a knife, carefully cutting the tray into even squares. On a plate, he gives himself a corner piece and Medic a center piece. The doctor also grabs them a few beers from their fridge, and the two retreat to Heavy’s bedroom. As they sink their teeth into the thick chocolate, the two are blissfully unaware of the side effects yet to come.

Half an hour later, everything kicks in.

“Misha…this isn’t my room.” Spread eagle on the bedroom floor, Medic stares wide eyed at the ceiling. He blinks, brain fuzzy from alcohol and marijuana. The older man sits upright, frantically turning his head left and right. Where are his birds? The skeleton display he keeps by the door? His blanket—where’s that damn blanket he bought while fleeing Germany?!

“Is…my room.” Comes the answer from the bed. Medic gasps, climbing up to see Heavy barely keeping his eyes open. The giant groans from the shift. Where the hell is his voice? It feels like his tongue was replaced with a brick.

Medic grips the bed, practically clinging to the frame for dear life. He presses tightly to the sheets, heart racing. Is this a heart attack? Dear god, it is! Why is he having a heart attack? Is he going to die?

“Misha, Misha! I’m floating!” Despite the claim, Medic remains firmly on the ground. He then attempts to shove himself under the bed to keep himself from becoming airborne. While these antics occur, Heavy begins laughing.

“Doktor…Doktor is on ground!” A wheeze. When has he ever wheezed? Heavy laughs harder as Medic scrambles for purchase, fighting whatever force has him convinced that he’s floating away. It actually sounds pretty nice when Heavy thinks about it. Just drifting aimlessly through the clouds…

“Don’t laugh! I can’t feel my legs!” Where are they?! Medic looks under the bed, yanking a pant leg to confirm that his legs are in fact attached to himself. Something is trying to take his legs, isn’t it? Before he can kick at the air, the Russian drags the doctor out from under the bed and into his arms.

“Hm….Heavy keep Doktor safe.” Its like being cuddled by a bear. A really, really high bear that’s also a little drunk. Heavy reaches for his half empty beer, enjoying the warmth it sends through his body. Beer is so nice. Why can’t it taste this way all the time?

“Are we having sex?” He feels like jelly, or maybe a pudding of sorts. Medic clings to his lover to make sure that he isn’t actually turning to pudding. Maybe this is just a really slow, fully clothed version of sex. Feels nice. That is, until the door opens.

“Knew it. Damnit, you two ate weed brownies.” Medic flounders, fighting to cover himself despite being fully dressed. Heavy laughs loudly, accidentally rolling off the bed and crushing Medic. The loud scream from his smaller lover is cut off by his massive chest muffling the man.

“You’ll be fine by tomorrow. Drink some bloody water and stay the hell away from my edibles.” The door slams shut as Sniper marches away. He returns to the kitchen only to see two more squares taken out from the tray. Wankers.

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 requests #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #tf2 sniper #red oktoberfest #heavymedic #weed mention #alcohol mention

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heavenlyeden · 4 months

Text

⋆Dolls need no voice⋆

⋆Chapter 1 - Devocalized canary⋆

⋆Masterlist⋆

Content Warning: Medical whump, medical malpractic, loss of voice, forced disability, gaslighting, carewhumper, lady whumper

The first thing Tolya noticed as he woke up was bright, fluorescent lights. A deep fog clouded his mind. His blurry vision impeded him from making out the details of his surroundings. At least, the soft bed cradled his heavy body, and he felt no urge to move.

“Mr. Lebedinsky?” A soft, masculine voice frustrated his intentions of going back to sleep.

Tolya looked at the person beside him. As his vision cleared, he took in his appearance. The unfamiliar man wore a simple shirt and pants in a solid blue color. Finally, he realized who he was and where he woke up.

He was a nurse, and Tolya was in a hospital.

“I understand you might be quite confused. But I ask you not to talk as you just woke up from surgery on your vocal cords. Here,” the nurse put a notepad and a pen in his hand, “use this to communicate with me.”

His confusion only increased. A surgery…? He didn’t remember intending to get any surgery, especially on his vocal cords, out of all things. The nurse gently pulled the IV out of his hand and put a bandaid to stop the bleeding.

“Now, do you have any allergies? I will explain everything to you while you eat some pudding.”

Tolya tried to reply with a ‘no’, yet no sound but wheezing escaped his throat. So, he shook his head.

“I will be right back,” he said and left Tolya alone with his thoughts.

Not that they were many. Despite how much he tried to work out when or why he decided to get surgery, the fog in his mind stopped him from reasoning. He couldn’t even remember going to the hospital.

The nurse came back, this time with a cup and spoon.

“Do you think you can sit up?”

With how heavy his body felt, he didn’t want to, yet he nodded and slowly sat up. His head weighed twice as much as it should. The nurse handed him the food. Looking at the pudding didn’t whet his appetite. In fact, it did the exact opposite, flooding his mouth with a metallic taste. But he still forced himself to eat bit by bit.

“Do you feel discomfort swallowing or pain?”

Tolya shook his head, awaiting the explanation promised to him.

“Great. Now, you’ll be pleased to know the surgery was a success. Unfortunately, you won’t be able to talk anymore. You had your vocal cords removed.”

He dropped a spoonful of pudding on the bed and stared at the nurse in disbelief. Huh? This… couldn’t be true. When did he decide to have such surgery? And why? Why the fuck would a singer remove his vocal cords? His head spun. He tried to talk again but received the same results – nothing but wheezing. His eyes filled with tears. He put aside his cup of pudding and wrote on the notepad.

‘Why?’

The nurse gave him a sympathetic expression.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know. The doctor only told me this. You don’t remember?”

‘Of course not’

“Oh my. No wonder you seem so upset. Don’t worry. Even though I can’t give you the answer, your girlfriend is on the way to pick you up, and she will explain everything to you.”

Girlfriend…?

‘I don’t have a girlfriend’

“Yes, you do. You don’t remember it too? Well, temporary amnesia is a common side effect of anesthesia. The best thing to do at the moment is eating your pudding and rest until she’s here. Worrying and forcing your mind won’t help you.”

Nothing about the past minutes made any sense. But the nurse couldn’t be lying to him, right? His mind did feel incredibly foggy, and the more he tried to understand, the more his head spun.

So, he decided to take his advice, if only for the moment. His brain was on the verge of shutting down entirely. With shaky hands, he ate the pudding. He handed the empty cup back to the nurse after he finished, and laid on the bed, hugging himself. The nurse left without saying a word.

Perhaps this was a nightmare? It seemed like one. Why…? Why his voice? Why would he do this to himself? Tears fell from his eyes. He cried silently, unable to find an answer to why his worst nightmare came true.

Before he could doze back to sleep, the door opened again. The exhaustion from crying combined with the after-effects of anesthesia made sitting up quite a shore. Confusion hit even harder when he saw the person at the door.

A middle-aged East Asian woman wearing a fancy red vest looked at him lovingly. He didn't remember her, but she looked familiar. She approached him and cupped his face with both hands.

“Oh, sweetheart, were you crying? Poor thing.”

It finally dawned on him. This woman old enough to be his mother was, supposedly, his girlfriend. Did he ever go after older women? He remembered turning nineteen recently so it felt… off. But she looked at him so lovingly…

“Jackson, his change of clothes,” the woman called and pulled away.

A man Tolya hadn’t noticed approached them from the door. Jackson seemed East Asian like her, and looked younger and paler in comparison. He carried folded clothes along with a shoe box, and a large black messenger bag hung from his shoulder. After putting the clothes and box by Tolya’s bed, he left and closed the door behind them.

“You should change quickly so we can get home, sweety.”

But the woman didn’t leave like Jackson. Well, she was Tolya’s girlfriend, so he shouldn’t be ashamed. Yet he couldn’t help but feel uneased. Despite his more lucid mind, he still couldn’t remember her. Not even her name.

And also, where were his friends, Keiko and Anton? They should be here, as he and Keiko did for Anton, rushing to his room when he underwent emergency surgery.

Even his last memory involved them. The last thing he could recall was going to sleep exhausted after singing with them at their biggest event so far. And no thought about losing his vocal cords, or memory of his ‘girlfriend’.

“Why do you look so… disturbed?” She interrupted his thoughts, resting a hand on his back. “Go on. There’s no need to be shy.”

Her touch sent shivers down his spine. She gave him a look that couldn’t be described as loving anymore, but hungry and lustful. Tolya reached for his notepad and shakily wrote his question, fearing the answer.

‘Are you really my girlfriend?’

She sighed, seeming disappointed.

“I expected we would talk about this at home, not here. You’re more lucid than we thought.”

Tolya’s heart raced as she held his chin and smiled.

“Well, to answer you - from now on, you're my boyfriend.”

Taglist: @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night

#medical whump #lady whumper #male whumpee #poc whumper #Dolls Need No Voice #Tolya Ivanovich Lebedinsky #Lavinia Hwang #Jackson Yoon #Lynn Oliveira #forced disability whump #medical malpratice whump #whump #whumper #whumpee #whump series #carewhumper #whumpblr #whump community

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perhaps-in-anotherdream · 1 year

Text

The calls contain important references from Victor’s Glacier Date. So, please make sure you read the date first! ♡

⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for content yet to be released on the global server! ⌚

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

–

[1st Call]

Victor: I was in a video conference just now and couldn’t pick up your call.

Victor: Anyway, I’d really like to know what on earth is it that happened to a certain someone?

Victor: Why did I receive a bunch of crying and rolling around memes the second I turned on my phone?

MC: That… it’s actually not that big a deal.

MC: It’s just that I really don’t want to come to work anymore, sob sob sob sob––!

Victor: …

Victor: I seem to have heard the exact words more than once.

Victor: Why is it that every time a vacation ends, a certain someone always adheres to making this complaint without exception?

MC: Because every time I come back to work on the first day, it feels like being in hell!

MC: And especially since we were away for so long this time, it’s really like I’ve returned to the hell inside the hell!

MC: We received feedback on the previous works, and now we have to do follow-ups on them. At the same time, we also have to prepare for new projects.

MC: We still haven’t landed on a schedule regarding when I’ve to go to LFG to submit the quarterly report, so I still have to check with Goldman…

MC: By the way, the report I missed before the vacation, I’ll email it to you later at…

Victor: I remember it’s supposed to be the lunch break at [MC’s Company Name] right now.

MC: Eh?

Victor: I mean, how come a certain someone who says she doesn’t want to work is calling me and still talking about work?

MC: …!!

MC: In fact, there are, of course, also other things outside of work that I want to talk to you about~

MC: For instance… uhh… for instance, I think the sky doesn’t look good today, and there’s a good chance that it might rain!

Victor: It will indeed rain, but it’s gonna stop around 7 pm.

Victor: Have you forgotten? You put the umbrella in my bag in the morning.

MC: Sob sob, it turns out that I already reminded you… I’m dizzy from all the work rush.

MC: …by the way, Pudding hasn’t been eating very actively lately. So, I opened a can for it in the morning, and its appetite seemed to have improved a little~

Victor: That’s just its habitual trick, and it does the same thing every time it gets a craving for canned food.

Victor: And you are the only one it still manages to fool every time.

MC: …that’s because it calls out so pitifully every time! Oh, there’s also…

Victor: All right, no need to rack your brain to divert the subject.

Victor: Just now, I simply wanted to remind you to not get bogged down in work all day long. Occasionally, you should also hop around a little bit and let your mind rest for a while.

Victor: Let’s end the chat here for now. My next meeting is about to start.

Victor: Do you still have to work overtime tonight?

MC: Mm, I need to work over…

Victor: Remember to text me when you’re almost finished. Don’t worry, I’ll bring late-night snacks as comfort.

–

[2nd Call]

Starts at – 2:07

–

Victor: Are you working overtime tonight?

MC: No. It just happens that I can get off work on schedule. Just need five more minutes, and I’ll be able to sneak out of here~

Victor: That’s good. Come with me when you’re done, and we’ll go together to pick up the car.

Victor: The 4S store contacted me in the afternoon and said that the maintenance has been done and it’s good to be received today.

MC: Okay!

MC: It drove us through the desert and onto the glaciers. It was indeed time for it to take proper rest.

MC: By the way, has the scratch on the front of the car been repaired too?

Victor: It’s fixed. That was especially taken care of to make it exactly the same as before.

Victor: Or perhaps we could leave it as it was. You know, as a commemoration of a certain dummy’s driving skills.

MC: Victor! There’s no need for this kind of commemoration!

MC: Besides, I got it scruffed just that one time… all my parallel parking was perfect after that!

Victor: It was indeed perfect. It’s just that the duration became directly proportional to the result.

Victor: I had finished reading several emails, and a certain someone was still staring into the rearview mirror, meticulously adjusting the steering wheel.

MC: I was just being cautious, that’s all! Haven’t you heard of the saying, “it is better to be late in this world than to be early in the next”~

Victor: I’ve indeed heard of it. But if I remember correctly, this is a slogan to exhort drivers against running red lights.

Victor: A certain someone trying to use that as a justification for dilly-dallying while parking doesn’t seem very convincing.

MC: CEO Victor, you don’t need to poke holes into such small, insignificant details.

MC: How come you happen to notice all my occasional mistakes... my driving skills clearly aren’t that bad.

MC: You probably don’t know. You were so comfortable that you were actually snoring when we were on the highway~

Victor: ...okay, let’s assume that you’re telling the truth.

MC: What assume... what I said is exactly what happened! I’ll most definitely be the driver next time and wipe clean the “bad” impression you have of me.

MC: But calculating the time, it’ll be quite a while before we go on our next trip...

Victor: It doesn’t need to be quite a while. You can experience that one more time today.

MC: What?

Victor: It doesn’t only have to be the self-drive tours. You can also practice your skill on the route to when we go to work and return home.

Victor: I didn’t drive up here today, all so to give a certain someone the opportunity to “prove herself.”

Victor: All right, five minutes have passed. Come to LFG now. I’ll be waiting for you downstairs.

—

#merry christmas everyone~ 🎄⛄❤️#hhhhhgnnn i can’t with their all married couple talks akskfjsjk #their phone calls are always like this lol all married couple talks 😂😭🫠💘#mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc #mr love victor #mr love queen's choice #恋与制作人 #李泽言 #love and producer #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc translations

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ardent-fox · 6 months

Text

✨ Weekly Tag Wednesday ✨

Got tagged by my beloveds, @deedala and @metalheadmickey to complete these two tag games, thank you and hair ruffles to both of you 🥰💙

Name: Lyds

Where in the world are you? Somewhere in Europe

Do you have a favorite towel? I have two sets of the same ones in different colors, I prefer the teal ones

Can you skip rocks? Not that I know

Tell me about a weird slang term from your area: We have very creative curse words in my native language and use "dick" instead of fuck for most things, like "what the dick is going on", "that's dicked up" and so on. We also send people into genitals as curse phrases, my favorite being "go into your mother's cunt" or even better, "go into three mothers' cunts", and all of this is a socially acceptable way of speaking from puberty onward

Favorite toast topping: I'm a savory type of gal and usually butter it and make it into a ham and cheese sandwich, or put pâté on it and some fancy cheese

Thoughts on bread pudding: I don't believe I've ever tried it, but I'm down for pretty much anything when it comes to food

City or country living? Somewhere in the middle, I live in a town with a 15 min walk to the center and am happy with that

How do you cheer yourself up after a bad day? Put on a comfort show or funny clips on youtube

Are you a pessimist or an optimist? I'm one of those annoying bitches that considers herself a realist. It's hard to tell due to my tendency to catastrophize things because of anxiety, though I generally know in my bones that things will work out

Can I tag you in random stuff? Anyone can tag me in anything that makes them think of me, I know my activity fluctuates but I love getting tagged by all of you 💖

----

🔤 Name: Lyds

🎶 Last song you listened to: My Love Mine All Mine by Mitski

🎵 Artist on Spotify giving you the feels right now: Still in my Hozier feels

👯‍♂️ Fave Blorbo Moment: "I definitely love one", euphoria galore 💙

🍟 Your guilty pleasure snack: Potato chips, I'm a whore for a pack of Lays

🌮 What food are you craving today: More of my mom's chocolate raspberry pie

📖 Last fanfic tab you opened: The Menagerie by @crossmydna, haven't dug into the last chapter yet but will never shut up about how much I adore and recommend this masterpiece of a fic. I haven't read any Kinktober things yet, but plan to correct that soon

🖌️ Favorite fic project you've created: My one and only competed fic so far, Everything

👩🏼‍🎤 Next tattoo you want (or would consider if you're not a tattoo person): I've never been brave enough to get a permanent tattoo, but I've been feeling zodiac constellations with your zodiac flower instead of stars lately, which would be a formation of (blue) lilies in my case. Definitely in the flowers, pixie/fairy and celestial art camp

🧐🆓 What's living in your head rent free this week: Same as the last four weeks, Our Flag Means Death, with a dash of Con O'Neill side obsession. My love of season 2 continues to consume every part of my brain and I fight the urge to rewatch it all (yet again) on a daily basis, it was glorious and gave me everything 💖

Tagging @look-i-love-u, @vintagelacerosette, @sickness-health-all-that-shit, @gallawitchxx, @rereadanon, @sleepyfacetoughguy, @deathclassic, @thisdivorce, @crossmydna, @heymrspatel, @stocious, @lupeloto, @scurvgirl, @tanktopgallavich, @howlinchickhowl, @squidyyy23 in case you haven't done and would like to do either or both of these, as well as anyone who sees this and would like to play! ✨

#tag game #fandom friends #about me

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nyxnightshade1332 · 5 months

Text

Expectations When Expecting (Book 1)

Chapter 13

Chapter 14:

"Okay, now we just sprinkle on a little powdered sugar, and..." Yuu watched in fascination as Trey expertly sifted powdered sugar onto the tart.

The entire room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, when Trey stood back.

"Finished!" Ace and Grim remarked excitedly. Yuu smiled, pleased with the image.

"Fin...ished..." Deuce said halfheartedly.

"Hey." Ace nudged Yuu slightly, leaning in to whisper. "Did something happen to him while you were shopping?"

"Yeah. He's still in shock." She laughed awkwardly. "I think I broke him."

"For sixteen years, I was so sure..." Deuce lamented, returning to muttering.

Ace watched with a raised eyebrow. "... Yeah, whatever." He said dismissively. "I'm pretty beat. Making tarts sure takes it outta you."

Yuu raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Is the big tough fella tired?" She teased. "Guess you should be lucky we agreed to help~" She grinned, noticing Ace's embarrassed blush.

"Yeah, fine. Thanks for the help." He huffed, looking away.

Yuu chuckled kindly. "You're welcome!" She said, returning her gaze to the table she was wiping down.

"Hey fam!" A voice resounded in the kitchen, making Yuu jump slightly as she looked up to see a familiar ginger.

"Holy shit, this ain't moving!" She grumbled to herself. "Oh yeah! 'Sup Cater!" She called back, attempting to scrub off a bit of solidified paste from the wood.

"LOL, You look wrecked." Cater remarked. "Are the tarts done? Ooh, those look sooo cute! Lemme snap a quick pic for Magicam!" Cater smiled, scampering over to where Trey was, holding a very pretty-looking tart.

"What, NOW you decide to show up?" Ace retorted, annoyed and cranky.

"I just came to see how hard my little newbs were working." Cater said, leaning against the desk nonchalantly.

"It's tough work if you're not used to it. But there's no better cure for the ails of fatigue than something sweet from the oven!" Trey announced, placing a warm tart in front of the group. "Help yourself to some of this tart."

The group celebrated at the thought of getting to try their work.

"Pretty funny how you managed to show right when it was ready to eat, Cater." Ace remarked, scowling slightly when Cater laughed.

"Someone's gotta be the official taster!" The older ginger smiled.

"That smells so good..." Grim purred, sniffing the air as his mouth began to water. "Glossy chestnuts on top, fluffy cream below... I can't wait another second, I'm going in!"

Grim seemed to jump into his tart, completely disregarding the fork and simply taking a large bite. Yuu felt her stomach growl at how hungry she was, making her pick the fork up and take a small piece.

"Yuuum! Liked and subscriiibed!" She heard Cater beside her as she put the fork in her mouth.

"This is like something from a fancy bakery." Deuce praised.

"Rich in flavor, yet not too sweet... It's like chestnuts are dancing across my tongue!" Grim laughed.

"Is that... a good thing?" Trey questioned, seeming to look at Yuu, who had remained silent as she took her first bite.

Yuu had been hit with a sweet flavor, but it didn't have a heavy texture that would overwhelm her. She smiled. "Wow. It's good!"

Trey chuckled at her childish delight. "I'm glad you like it!"

"Oh, Trey! You gotta do the thing." Cater smiled.

"The thing? Oh..." Trey asked before his features lit up at the realization. "That."

"Uh, wanna fill me in here?" Ace suggested, completely lost.

Yuu watched as Trey pulled out his magic pen, confused. "What's that for?" She asked him. The taller boy simply smiled at her.

"You'll see. Now, what's everyone's favorite food?" He gestured toward the first year ginger.

"Me?" Ace questioned, pointing at himself. Trey nodded. "Probably cherry pie. Or hamburgers." Ace said.

"Canned tuna's at the top of my list. Then maybe cheese omelets, roast meat, pudding..." Grim began to list, wracking his brain in a pathetic attempt to decide.

"Dude, just pick one." Deuce muttered before answering. "If I had to pick, I guess I'd say... omelet rice?"

"I like a nice lamb chop with diablo sauce." Cater announced with a smile, turning to Yuu excitedly.

"I'd say..." Yuu thought for a while, eyebrows furrowed while she narrowed down her list. She felt the slight pull of her craving something that she'd been longing for for years. "Maybe my grandmother's tamales. Specifically the ones she called chope." She said, recalling her family's rare visits to Mexico in her youth, and the mouthwatering scent that wafted out of the pot as the tamales cooked. She felt her stomach growl at the thought, making her blush.

Yuu looked over to Trey, who had an amused smirk on his face. He lifted his pen. "All right, you've got it... Let's 'Paint the Roses'!" He called.

Yuu watched the room bathe in rose red light for a brief moment before disappearing. She watched, eyes wide and curious.

"Huh? What does that mean?" Deuce questioned.

"Take another bite of your tart and see." Trey remarked with a cheeky smile, pushing his glasses up.

Ace tentatively took one more bite before his eyes widened. "Huh? How- Now it tastes like cherry pie!" He looked at the tart, as if conforming that he was still eating a chestnut tart.

Grim picked his slice up, taking another bite. "It's just like canned tuna!" He yelped, taking another bite. " Now it tastes like a cheese omelet! And grilled meat!" He swallowed, excited with each bite. "And pudding!"

Yuu took her fork, lifting it up to her nose, smelling it. Its scent seemed to not have changed. He put the forkfull into her mouth.

She froze, recognizing the familiar saltiness of the masa, and the spice of the pork. Her eyes filled with tears, threatening to cascade down her face. She wiped them away.

"Wow." She said, untrusting of her ability to speak without crying. She took another bite, melting at the flavor.

"Neat trick, eh?" Cater shot her a smile. "That's gotta be a hit when Trey's having tea with the ladies."

"It's very impressive." Deuce smiled, eyes bright. "Is changing flavors your signature spell, Trey?"

"Technically, it's 'overwriting characteristics.' I can change taste, color, smell, whatever." Trey informed, eating a bit from his own tart. "It only lasts for a little while, though. But it is kinda like covering up the real thing hence, 'painting.'" He explained, handing Yuu a napkin which she accepted gratefully, wiping away any stray tears.

"If I had magic like that, I could be eatin' canned tuna every meal of every day! That's way better than Riddle's stupid collar magic!" Grim remarked with a gulp.

"Oh, that's in a whole other league. His signature spell is a weapon. Mine's just childish prestidigitation." Trey said, hiding his face a bit. "Speaking of Riddle - it's too late to give him these now. Let's call it a day and do it tomorrow." He suggested, quickly changing the topic with ease. "Don't forget that tomorrow's the unbirthday party. You don't want to be late."

"Yuu, can I crash with you again? It doesn't sound like I'll be allowed back in my own dorm tonight." Ace asked the young woman, who simply nodded, pushing back the empty feeling in her heart.

"Yeah. But you still have to clean if you want to stay in a room." She informed, placing her fork down on the now empty plate, before Grabbing Grim's. She smiled as Ace gave a loud groan.

"Again, seriously?" Cater asked incredulously.

"It isn't right to keep mooching off of Yuu, Ace." Deuce said, a strange look on his face.

"Yeah, it ain't! If you wanna stay tonight, you gotta pay for the privilege! Ten cans of tuna!" Grim demanded, standing upright to glare at Ace.

"Aww, What?! Guess I'm sleeping outside, then." Ace sulked, throwing his best puppy-dog eyes at Yuu. She rolled her eyes.

"Nice try, Trappola. But I have the high ground." She teased.

"Why don't you go and stay at Yuu's dorm too, Deuce, so you can keep an eye on him?" Trey suggested, making Deuce seem to perk up. "As vice housewarden, I can issue you a sleepover pass."

"That's our Trey, always spoiling the newbs. What fun for you." Cater chuckled before looking at her. "Ooh, maybe I'll come too! What do you say, Yuu?" He wrapped his arm over her.

"No pass for you." Trey said, shooting down Cater's idea.

Cater sighed, sulking. "Aww. Sad trumpet... Womp womp wooomp."

Trey shook his head, turning to Yuu apologetically. "Sorry to dump them all on you, Yuu. At least it's just for tonight."

She sighed, looking at the boys. "Nah, it's fine. I could use a bit of help cleaning my rustic, 'dump of a dorm' anyway."

Trey's eyes widened and he blushed in embarrassment, realizing that she'd just quoted him. "Ah- I..." Trey began, making Yuu laugh.

"Relax, I'm just teasing." She assured, turning to leave with Grim hopping into her arms. " I'll see you guys tomorrow, if I can successfully wake Ace, Deuce, and Grim."

Once Yuu opened the door to Ramshackle, she watched Ace throw his bag to the couch. "Tomorrow's the unbirthday party. Finally, I'm gonna get rid of this stupid collar! Just you wait, Riddle!" Ace announced, stretching as he jumped onto the couch, sending a literal cloud of deep seeded dust out into the air.

After a couple of minutes of hacking their lungs out and having no choice but to open all of the windows, Yuu turned to Ace with a glare.

"Really?! Was your goal to kill us all by suffocation?!" She cried.

"Forgot how dusty it was..." Ace said awkwardly, shaking the dust off of a new blanket. With about a half-hour of Yuu's scolding, she managed to get Ace to clean a room while Deuce had agreed to clean his own.

Once the cleaning was done, the group sat around a table, reading cards. Yuu read over her cards awkwardly, barely understanding the game, which had been old maid.

"Hahaha! How're you THIS bad at playing old maid?" Ace snickered as Yuu helplessly looked over her cards.

"Well, I'm sorry, but I've never played!" She huffed, before setting down her cards, noticing Grim's ears flatten and droop when he looked at his cards.

"Darn! I got the old maid again!" He cried, throwing his cards down.

Yuu groaned, as she picked up the cups, walking to the kitchen and placing the cups in the sink. Those are future Yuu's problem. She thought to herself, making her way to the lounge again.

"Bed time, boys!" She announced, making them groan.

"Aww, c'mon! One more game?" Ace suggested, anxiously tugging at his collar. Yuu rolled her eyes, empathy pooling into her heart, swaying her judgment. She sighed.

"...Fine. But we're playing one of my games this time."

Chapter 15

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