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azullumi · 10 days

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"orion" ; aventurine

summary : he has lived through many lives, has met many people, has gone through many places, but the shadow of your soul follows him wherever he goes and his eyes would search for a glimpse of your smile everywhere. he continues to look for the light that touches him, not the sun, not the moon, but you.

tags : star-crossed 2024, reincarnation concept, established relationship but also not established in some parts, usage of metaphors, fluff with angst and comfort, crumbs of insecure aventurine, snippets of his lifetimes and how he finds you in each one of them, not proofread sorry, 2.9k words ; one-shot

tagging : @toorurs (hi boo)

notes : i had two ideas in mind but the other was too complicated and would be lengthy so i decided to have this one instead. anwss, i hope you'll like this one!!

Aventurine has recurring dreams of you.

(It was a blessing.)

Ones that feel like fleeting moments in the wind destined to be taken away from him as soon as he tries to hold it. It crumbles into dust and falls to the ground he stands on, and he’ll try to pick up your pieces but it doesn’t stay in his hands for long. Perhaps it was meant to leave, not to last, and perhaps, he’ll hold on to what little is left of the particles in his palms.

In his dreams, you’ll kiss the scars on his skin and he’ll adore you, clear vivid eyes painted with vibrant hues that capture all his affection for you in his soft gaze (they say the eyes are the windows to the soul and you’ll see your reflection in his). You’ll tell him of all the worries that plague your mind, of all the thoughts that bothers you, of everything that you’ll think of.

“If you have 3 lifetimes, what would you do in each one of them?” You speak softly, a soft murmur to the night as you look at him with your eyes wide with curiosity. Aventurine will find himself baffled over your question, eyebrows knitted as he falls into his thoughts—he wouldn’t know what to say.

“It’s not that hard to answer, is it?”

“How about you answer first? I’m a little curious about what you’ll say.”

You hum, lips pursed into a smile as if you already know what to say, as if you’ve been waiting for the moment that someone will ask you that question; You recount your desires to him on how you want to be a bookstore owner but also a florist, on how you wish to soar the skies but also travel across the seas, on how you want to be everything and nothing all at once. 3 lifetimes would simply not be enough for your wishes.

He likes listening to your voice as you speak, adores the way the corners of your eyes wrinkle when you think of something you like. But somewhere in the back of his head, turmoil creeps into the cracks of his mind and settles on the sharp edges.

“Your turn.” You say, beaming a warm smile at him yet he falls into silence once more. He feels ashamed, humiliation seeping into the gaps of his fingers and traces the lines of his palms—you were so full of light, embodying solace in your being, you are what is adored and seeked yet he stands beside you, seemingly like a shadow that haunts your steps, hesitation lingers and tugs at his hand even when he’ll try to touch you. He’s unsure of what he wants in this life even more for the ones that will supposedly come. He finds it unfair—perhaps for you—for him.

“Still no answer?” Your voice sounds reassuring, soft as you lightly graze your finger on his skin, your ghosting touch making his lips shudder. It was comforting, the way that you’ll speak to him, the way that you’ll touch him, the way that you’ll love him—it was all warm and comforting. You brush your hand on his cheek, tucking away stray strands of hair behind his ear; “It’s alright, it was a sudden question anyways. Also, something stupid to ask.”

“No, it’s not—it’s not stupid.” He stumbles over his words; he rarely stutters, rarely finds himself tripping on the bumps of the letters that fall out of his mouth but he finds himself staggering on the line of vulnerability and uncertainty. You hum, nodding, seemingly encouraging him to spill out whatever he wishes to say because you’ll listen, no matter how ridiculous it can be.

“I just haven’t thought about it.” Aventurine, though he may not say it, doesn’t like thinking of the future. It just reminds him how everything ahead of him is just empty and narrow, it’s as if he has to walk alone.

“But I…” His voice trails off and yet a thought lingers inside his head, making its way down his throat and clawing the walls of his mouth; the more he’ll keep it in, the more he’ll taste the blood of his perished words on his tongue.

“I’ll look for you in each one of them.”

The wind blows against his and your form and he feels your lips all over his face, pressing delicate kisses all over the lines and wrinkles of his features as if a brush to a canvas. The light would become too bright for him so he closes his eyes, relishing in this moment where you hold his face in your hands as if he was made out of broken pieces carved out of people’s miseries, as if he was something fragile, and the dirt that stains the waters of his mind seemingly dissipates like it never existed.

“Another stupid question, did you know how much I love you?” You’ll whisper against his lips, a smile tugging on the corners of your mouth. Your breath tickles his skin and he can’t hide the smile that draws on his face.

“How much?”

“I’ll give the world to you.”

And he’ll wake up.

(Or perhaps, a curse.)

Aventurine stands before the colorful blossoms displayed in pots and buckets of different sizes and colors. The essence of spring dances in the air, filling the place with the scent of blooming flowers and the sight of receding snow that unveils the land below; the sight of it is not unfamiliar to him. He has seen thousands of it—the different seasons that weave its life in his surroundings and has lived through many of them.

He has had many lives and he has been everyone but also no one. He has been a puppet, a poet, a prince, a musician, a gambler. Little pieces of himself merge into the likeness that he sees in front of the mirror everyday. His form is battered, bruised, broken all over, patched and affixed together with nonviscid tape, sewed with delicate threads of fate—there are days that he doesn’t recognize the person standing in front of the reflective glass. Even if has retained most of his features, most especially his eyes, and nothing drastic has changed from what he once was; yet he struggles in seeing himself in the mirror.

“Are you looking to buy a bouquet?” A voice breaks him out of his trance, pulling him back to reality. It must have been weird seeing a man just standing for minutes in front of the displays and staring into space.

“No, not re—” His sentence breaks off abruptly when he turns his head to the sound of the voice and his eyes meet a pair that causes memories to surge like a harsh tide that pulls everything into the depths; it sweeps him under like a fierce undertow as it drags him back to the profundity of what haunts him. His thoughts that seem like old, faded photographs flicker in his mind, and the sound of buzzing fills his ears as the world comes to a still.

It feels as though the ground beneath him has crumbled away. There you are.

“Sir?” It’s you, it’s you that calls out to him and not a random person that he meets somewhere he can’t remember, not a stranger that would approach him and ask for his name, not someone that he thought was you.

“Nothing,” Aventurine shakes his head and composes himself, “I would like to get a bouquet.”

“Of course, which flowers would you like to have?”

“I’m not entirely sure. What do you recommend?” If this was his attempt of making a conversation, he lies between the line of failing and succeeding. He’s not even here with the plans of bringing home a bouquet to give nor decorate his house and he’s not even sure if he has his wallet with him.

You hum as you fall into deep thought and you begin to count tales of different flowers and paint the meanings behind them with your voice, and you come to mention one that made his heart skip like stone in a pond, and his breath hitch. You speak of a certain flower with such tender affection and all he can think of is how you used to adore this very one even back then, and how your home used to be adorned with it.

“Is that your favorite?” The golden-haired man asks, curiosity wrapping around his tone as he speaks despite the fact that he already knows your answer and you smile at him, warmly—and oh, how much he missed seeing it. It’s like he has fallen in love all over again and the colors paint all over his once bleak and mellow life. Even after all this time, all these years, all these lifetimes, he still has you carved in his soul, every part of you etched on the bumps of his skin. As if you’re engraved like a scar on his body, persisting, lingering.

“It’s a lovely flower, how could I not?” The sound of laughter forms in your throat and spills out of your lips. It’s a lovely sound that he has inscribed in the very depths of his mind, one that would muddle his sleep or disturb him in the moments of silence he would revel in, trying to find the wind to ground himself.

You’re still the same as he remembers.

Memories lie dormant like fragile butterflies trapped within glass jars, fluttering and flickering, casting shadows upon the vulnerable walls of his conscience. Remembering, a troublesome thing that weighs heavy in his mind, tugging on his thoughts, and having a tight embrace on his heart. Sometimes he thinks it’s just a dream, one meaningless and lengthy dream that is meant to harrow him every time that he wakes up. But it was real, all of it is real—the laughter, the kisses, the touches, the smiles, you. How could he ever deny your existence?

Aventurine is in his nth life, not knowing how many times he has experienced death and the feeling of waking up to a strange and unfamiliar place, while his memories would flow to him like water in a stream. It comes in slow, steady, he’ll pick up broken shards of it and keep his fingers close—it will stab and make his hand bleed.

His hand, it was yours once. Clasped, held, weaved into the small gaps of your own. You held him as if he was yours to have—and he really is. He’ll walk through the busy streets with a gaze that roams everywhere, holding the anticipation, hope, that he’ll catch you amidst the crowds of people whose face appears to be nonexistent to him.

(He’ll look for you everywhere he goes, in museums, flower shops, bookstores, in the rivers, in fields, on the ground, everywhere.)

“Oh no, I’m sorry!”

Books came falling, papers scattered all over the pavement, and he saw someone in front of him, seemingly panicking as they gather all of their things; Aventurine wasn’t a heartless man nor was he cruel so he knelt to the ground and picked up all the remaining papers before handing it to them—lifting his gaze, to be met by a pair of eyes that he looks for everywhere.

(And he’ll find you.)

There was once a moment where you remember him.

It wasn’t just a, “I passed by you on the streets and you caught my attention since and I think of you everyday,” but it was, “I know you because you existed in my life before this.” It was something he had never expected, a moment where he had to pinch himself on the thigh to see if this was one of his messy dreams but it hurt and his heart ached.

(In this life, you were lost, alone, not knowing what to do nor what you wished to do—you simply stood still as you watched the strangers passing by, as everything before you crumbled. In this life, you were nothing but his friend and he was nothing but yours.)

“I’m sorry?” He says, still in disbelief on what he is hearing. Maybe it was just his ears playing tricks on him, his mind playing illusions for him due to how much he misses you. Oh, if only you knew how tight your grasp is on him; it troubles him with the way he’ll catch you in the corner of his eye but there’s nothing there but dust, he’ll feel your presence everywhere even when you’re nowhere to be found.

“You’re him. The one that is always in my dreams.” Aventurine will open his mouth to speak but nothing would come out; he remains silent, unable to find the words to say.

“Rine.” His breath hitched. Everything faded into white noise and there was only you in his eyes—there was only you and him. He has long abandoned that name, taking on different ones in each passing life but even if he has left it behind, he always remembers how you used to call him so sweetly and gently as if he was the only one that matters to you. “I missed you.”

Your voice breaks and he swears, it felt like something inside him had shattered. How long has he waited for this moment? How much has he dreamt of the day that you’ll remember him? He didn’t think it was possible but he holds on to the thin thread of hope that you will.

“Do you… Do you not remember me?” You look hurt at that thought, your gaze wavering as you look at him with tear-stained eyes.

“I do.” He whispers, broken. “I do remember you.” He always remembers you. It’s a burden that he carries for so long but he will never let go—he wishes he could, he wishes he wanted to. Your voice, your touch, your laugh, your embrace, your eyes, everything about you will always come to haunt him; you are too entertwined with his soul, threads bound and tangled together in knots that can never be undone.

The two of you talk about everything on this night as the stars above you listen, as the moon will become a witness to the words and caresses. You’ll tell him of all the dreams that you had, memories that will haunt you the same way it haunted him.

“I’ll remember you tomorrow and even the days after. I’ll remember you, always, even in the next lifetimes.” You say, certainty and assurance seeps into the tone of his voice and a part of Aventurine feels relieved and broken at the same time.

He smiles, “You will.” (You don’t know it but this too will be buried in the grave of the past and he will come to mourn it in every moment he wakes.)

“Kiss me, please?” You didn’t have to beg for anything, you will never have to beg for anything. He has looked for the shadow of your form, for the sound of your footsteps and laughter, for the feeling of your hand in his. You will never have to beg him for anything—he’ll give you the world if you ask.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” He whispers against your lips, his warm breath fanning your skin—a contrast to the cold night breeze that brushes against you.

“You’ll hear me tomorrow. I’ll call you, I promise. So please don’t keep your phone on silent.”

“I don’t. You’re the only person on my phone.”

You laugh at that, short and sweet. “Really?”

He kisses you once more, a fleeting one but the taste of his lips lingered on yours. “I only have you.”

The night draws to a close and Aventurine waits for the sun with bated breath but you weren’t able to fulfill your promise, for on the morning when the sun’s embrace caressed your skin, you remained in slumber’s hold.

It’s his second life, the life where he first remembers everything and when he is still not tormented by the burden (a curse) that he will hold all of the memories and you will remain in each one of them.

“I have a question.”

You lay your head on his shoulder, all the while your hand plays with his own. Your fingers softly dance across his palm and mindlessly sketches invisible patterns and traces the lines etched on it, while he watches, captivated by the ballet of your touch. There’s the fresh smell of shampoo and soap in the air around him, and the warmth of his hands provides a refreshing contrast to the coolness of your skin, still tingling from your recent bath.

In this life, you own a bookstore just like you wish and he’s simply just your lover.

“What is it?” He answers, watching you as you draw what seems to be a flower on his palm. He finds it endearing, every moment that he spends with you is all too sweet and dear for him, no matter how small and mundane it can be. He adores seeing you under this light, cherishes the way you melt into his embrace and how you hold him in your arms (he wishes everything would be this simple).

“How would you know if it was me?” The movement of your fingers comes to a halt as you look up to him to meet his gaze; eyes wide with curiosity and affection, he meets your gaze. Aventurine thinks for a moment before he answers:

“I’ll know if it’s you, always.”

You let out a short laugh, your expression breaking out into a soft one. “What if I was a worm then?”

“You’ll be the first worm to make my heart flutter.” There was no need for such questions—Aventurine will recognize you everywhere, in different forms, in different light.

“What if I was a stone?”

He chuckles, “I’ll know.”

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theragethatisdesire · 10 months

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"l’amore è cieco" - eren x reader - 18+!!!

back to the ti penso universe!!! finally!! did you guys miss it? i know i did; i am utterly obsessed with these two. i've had this sitting in my unfinished wip pile for way too long not to share.

our lovebirds have gotten the wedding all wrapped up with, so we're a solid four years past them reuniting in italy....and surprise! they're expecting!!!!! i could literally scream just writing that; the grip dad!eren has on me will never let up, i fear......anyways, this one's a little rough because i've picked it apart a thousand times and i'm just tired of editing, so you guys enjoy!!! sorry if it's not quite up to par :/

pairing: eren x reader

wc: 4k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, reader is pregnant, use of names (baby, mama, pretty, beautiful, etc), swearing, vaginal sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, lactation kink, creampie, crying, tooth-rotting fluff

title means "love is blind" in italian, per tradition w this verse <3

Right on schedule with your new daily, depressing routine, you stand in front of the mirror running your hands over your body, examining the recent changes. On second thought, scrutinizing might be a better word.

You’re grateful your job has allowed you to work from home for your entire pregnancy, editing articles from the journalists who can actually travel while snuggled up on your couch, but the downside of it is that you’ve had far too much time to mull on all of the ways your body has stretched and warped to accommodate the growing little girl in your stomach. You thought pregnancy was supposed to be beautiful, and sometimes it is, but more often than not, you just feel like a swollen, hormonal mess.

You “popped”, as all the mommy podcasts say, about two weeks ago, and thin stretch marks have begun to appear on your stomach. Eren calls them your “tiger stripes”, having been in full-blown cringe dad mode since the day you took the test. Bizarre cravings control you at all hours of the day, evidenced by the little black crumbs you’re picking out of your sports bra, left behind by your fourteen-Oreo breakfast today. You gaze longingly at the jewelry box on your bathroom counter; you haven’t been able to wear your wedding band in weeks, the tan line already beginning to fade from your finger. Before you can get a hold of yourself, the hormones have you in their grip, and hot, frustrated tears are spilling down your cheeks.

“Babe, have you seen that tie with the red–” Eren materializes in the doorway with absolutely no warning, as he’s prone to do, but cuts himself off at the sight of you, “baby, no, again?”

“Don’t say it like that,” you say, reluctantly allowing him to take you in his arms.

“Like what?” Eren’s voice is sweet, but hesitant. He’s been living under the constant threat of getting his head bitten off for mundane reasons because of you. It makes you feel worse, makes you shove him away and glare at him accusingly.

“Like I’m always fucking crying.” You are always crying, but you wish he would at least muster up some semblance of surprise at finding you in tears yet again. You turn away from him, wiping your face in the mirror. “Shouldn’t you be packing? Your flight leaves in like, three hours.”

“I’ll cancel,” Eren coos, stepping behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, picking your belly up in his hands.

It’s some hack he got off Tik Tok, supposed to take the weight off of your back for a precious moment, and as much as you don’t necessarily want to be touched right now, it actually helps. You’ve been alternating between thinking Eren’s overenthusiastic parenting research is adorable and mind-numbingly annoying, but for the moment, your back has stopped aching for the first time all morning, and you sigh, leaning into him.

“You can’t cancel,” you murmur, momentarily soothed, “‘s a big client. Where is it again? France?”

“I just got back from France, Miss Pregnancy Brain,” Eren chuckles, quieting immediately upon catching your lethal gaze in the mirror. “It’s just over in LA, and honestly, I could have Hitch go if you need me.”

“No, I can take care of myself, it’s just like…” a fresh wave of tears spills down your cheeks, “fuck, I don’t even know what’s wrong with me.”

Eren nods into your shoulder, letting you sniffle. It’s not a new trait, your outright refusal to ask for help, but it’s been exacerbated by your pregnancy, especially considering exactly how much help you actually need now.

You’ve taken custody of all of his sweatpants, not yet able to bring yourself to buy maternity clothes. You’d walked in sobbing and humiliated the other day because you’d peed yourself on the long elevator ride up to your apartment in front of the neighbors. You can’t sleep on your stomach anymore; Eren has to prop himself up just right beside you and sandwich you between himself and a wall of pillows to stop you from turning. You know it hurts him seeing you miserable, and you try to suck it up and enjoy the positives of pregnancy as much as you can, but you can’t muster up that strength every day.

“Hush,” Eren pulls your wet face to his chest, letting you stain the Number 1 Dad! t-shirt he had bought himself. “I’m not going.”

“Eren–”

“I’m not,” he says firmly, rubbing small circles into the bottom of your spine, “you need me here, whether you want to admit it or not.”

You grumble complacently, nuzzling into him. You do need him, as much as you want to think you can tough it out on your own. Eren’s bought book after book, not just for the baby, but for you. Most nights you find him reading titles like You’ve Made the Baby…Now What? or How to Survive Pregnancy: A Guide for Men with his feet propped up on the coffee table, a habit that, despite your efforts, you cannot nag him out of. It’s cute, honestly, how over-the-top he’s gotten with baby prep, especially when you’re often too exhausted to wrap your mind around reading a parenting guide.

“I feel ugly,” you admit quietly, sticky and snotty against his shirt. “I feel disgusting.”

“What?” Eren’s reaction is one of genuine confusion. He pushes you away from him so he can search your face, waiting patiently for you to elaborate.

“I’m gaining an obscene amount of weight, my ankles are the size of my knees, I can’t wear a single one of my rings, what am I supposed to feel like?”

Eren frowns. “Those things are supposed to happen. I read last night–”

“I don’t care!” Your voice cracks under the weight of your frustration, and you press your fingers into your eyes hard enough to see stars, trying to regain control of your temper. “I don’t care that it’s supposed to happen. It still sucks.”

“I think you’re beautiful,” Eren sounds earnest, but you scoff at him anyway.

“We’re married. You’re supposed to say that.”

“I don’t have to.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “If you want your head to stay on your shoulders you do.”

Eren laughs at that, tugging you over to stand between his legs as he sits on the bed. “So, you’re serious? You genuinely don’t think you look good pregnant?”

“No,” you rub at your nose, “I don’t.”

Eren looks up at you, cupping your face gently. “I disagree.”

“Do you really?”

“I think you look better than ever.”

“That’s an insult to non-pregnant me,” you roll your eyes, moving to step away, but Eren holds you tight between his legs.

“It’s not,” he insists, “there’s just some things your pregnant body has that you didn’t necessarily have before. Some things that I like.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “Cankles?”

Eren chuckles breathily, shaking his head. “I adore your cankles, but they weren't exactly the first thing that came to mind. Take these, for one thing.”

Eren presses his nose into your sports bra, hands moving up underneath to palm at your swollen tits. You let out a breathy laugh as he explores, already feeling a low heat beginning to simmer in your core. That’s one perk of entering your second trimester; your hormones might turn on a dime, but your sex drive has skyrocketed.

Eren shoves your bra up to free your tits, groaning appreciatively as he takes a nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking. You watch as he feels his way around with his mouth, humming contentedly under your breath, when suddenly, his eyes fly open and he shoots away from you.

“What?”

Eren shushes you, bringing a hand to the breast that had been in his mouth and squeezing lightly. White liquid beads on your nipple, and you cover your face in shame.

“When did that start?”

“A few days ago,” you admit, trying to push his hands off of you, cheeks burning. Eren swats you away, leaning back into your nipple, sucking harder. You can feel a small stream of milk leaving you, relieving some of the pressure in your tits; a moan rumbles deep in Eren’s chest, and you can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. Eren releases your nipple with a loud pop and looks up at you panting, eyes blown wide.

“Is it weird that that’s kinda hot?”

“Probably.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” you hum, threading your hands through his hair and urging him back to your chest, “feels good.”

That’s all Eren needs to hear, diving back into your chest with renewed vigor. As he continues, you realize it doesn’t just feel good, it actually feels incredible. You’ve always had sensitive breasts, but with the pregnancy, sensation has increased tenfold; you can feel your panties getting wetter as the weight of your full breast decreases. When Eren’s gotten all he can from your left nipple, he moves to your right, replacing his mouth on the now-abandoned nipple with his hand to twist gently at the wet skin.

The combined sensation makes your knees buckle; Eren saves you smoothly by wrapping an arm around your lower back, yanking you to him to straddle his leg. It’s the perfect angle for you to roll your hips against his thigh slowly, feeling the much-needed friction of his sweatpants against your cunt.

“Eren…” you breathe out, voice nothing more than a wisp of air.

“I know baby,” Eren speaks directly into your flesh, not willing to back away for even a moment, “feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Feels so good,” you whimper, clutching him to you with fistfuls of his hair.

“Told you this new body’s not so bad, hm?” Eren closes his teeth down on your nipple lightly; you almost keel over from the shockwave it sends through you.

You nod, rubbing yourself against his thigh faster. It’s awkward and cumbersome with your belly in the way, but it’s enough for now, enough to light your nerves on fire in that way that only Eren’s ever been able to.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” Eren mutters, grabbing onto your hips to help you get your rhythm right, “you’re so perfect, and you don’t even see it.”

Your fingers dig into his arms as you moan. “But my stomach–”

“But nothing,” Eren kisses you, mumbling into your mouth, “love your stomach, love your tits, love all of it. You think it doesn’t make me so fucking hard, watching you walk around with that big belly and knowing what it came from? I did that. We did that, didn’t we baby?”

“Mhm,” you bite into his shoulder, the friction on your clit through your sweatpants is getting to your head, making you dizzy. “Eren, Eren–”

“Sh sh sh,” Eren shushes you, moving so that he can look you in the eyes, “what do you need? Tell me.”

“I don’t– I don’t know, I just…” you can’t find the words, so in need of him that you can’t even decide what sounds best. His mouth? His fingers? All of it?

“Okay, okay,” Eren says quietly, standing you both up only to lay you against the pillows, “I’ve gotcha.”

He nudges his sweatpants down your legs, bringing your panties with them, spreads your legs so he can see the most intimate part of you. Eren brings his hand to your clit, rubbing tentatively, but you’re so desperate for him that it’s enough to make your back arch, a long, throaty moan ripping out of you. He lays beside you, gently playing with your clit and watching in awe at the reaction you give him, already a blubbering mess after only a few minutes.

“So sensitive, aren’t you mama?”

“Yes,” you hiss out through clenched teeth, a fresh wave of arousal flooding you at the name, “s-so sensitive. Need to cum, I need, n-need–”

“I’ll make you cum,” Eren promises, sinking a finger into you, “I’ll make you cum, baby.”

“Fuck, Eren, it’s– I can’t–”

“Feel good?”

“So fucking good,” you’re basically sobbing at this point, fingers clenched into the muscles of his bicep, clinging to him and humping his hand. You’re not sure if it’s the lack of sex over the first trimester (“What if I hit the baby’s head?” Eren had asked nervously whenever you approached him) or the rawness of the sensation against your over-sensitive body, but you’ve never been so close to your orgasm so quickly.

You don’t hold out long; Eren’s skilled with even just one finger, and before long, you’re crying out his name, gushing all over his hand. Eren presses his lips to your forehead in a sweet kiss despite having utterly destroyed you less than thirty seconds ago.

“Ready for me?”

“Sit,” you pant, pointing to the massive stack of pillows against your headboard. Eren raises his eyebrows in surprise, but does as he’s told, only pausing to pull his clothes off. The loss of the stupid dad t-shirt is a relief as much as feeling his bare chest under your hands. Due to your hormones, you’ve thrown Eren out of the house several times, and you’ve demanded to be alone enough to where his only solution is to go to the gym downstairs and work out until you’ve calmed down. It shows: his chest has grown broader and stronger, and the veins on his arms are nearly popping through the skin. “You look good.”

“Yeah?” Eren offers a shit-eating grin, flexing his bicep ever so subtly. “You should see yourself.”

“You seriously think I look good like this?” You’re straddling his hips now, rubbing your clit on his bare cock. It’s a lewd sight, his cock drooling on his abs, glistening with your cum; your cunt clenches around nothing, more than ready to be filled.

“Mhm, you look so fucking good like that,” Eren grunts, hands finding your hips again and lifting you up to sink you down on his cock, both of you letting out loud, satisfied groans, “but you look much better like this.”

You grind your hips against his, not possessing the energy to bounce your now-heavier body, but it makes you see stars. Eren rarely lets you ride him, much preferring to bend you over or pin you to the bed himself, but with your bump, you now have an excuse to hop on top of him whenever you like. It’s been close to a decade of fucking him, but the full stretch of him never fails to shock you, the way he pushes into you until you’re positive he’s in your stomach. With Eren sitting up, his cock stays firmly nestled against your g-spot, pushing little bits of squirt out of you with each movement of your hips.

“Eren–” you whimper, holding your breasts as you rock into him.

“Shit- you’re so tight like this,” Eren says through his clenched jaw, throwing his head back against the headboard, “why don’t you ride me more often?”

“You don’t let me,” you say with a watery giggle.

“Stupid,” Eren gasps, “‘m so fucking stupid.”

You’re too fucked out to voice your agreement, opting for sliding a hand down your body to flick at your clit. You can’t quite reach it around your bump, though, a discontented noise leaving your lips. Eren opens his eyes, takes notice of the way you’re hunching your back, and swats your hand away.

“I got it, I got it,” he pants, tucking his hand underneath your swollen belly to rub your clit just the way he knows you like it.

“Oh, f-fuck,” you choke out, throwing your head back.

“Good?”

“Yeah,” you hiss, “‘s perfect.”

“Take what you need, mama,” Eren’s watching you intently, a glimmer of admiration in his eye, “take what you need.”

You’re moaning pitifully, loud and wanton as Eren’s cock moves inside of you. Your cunt tightens around him desperately as the bubble building in your stomach threatens to explode.

“Think you get wetter like this, all swollen with my baby,” Eren muses, leaning forward to latch his mouth around one of your nipples where more milk has already started to pool. His words have a visceral reaction on you; you cry, tears welling in your eyes as you spiral towards your release.

“I think–I think I’m gonna– oh fuck, don’t stop,” you croon, rocking your hips as fast as you can manage. Eren mumbles around your nipple, something about how beautiful you look, and you come undone around him, grinding your hips hard against his and cradling him to your chest. He might have a point- there’s damn near a puddle of your arousal at the base of where you’re connected, slicking up the skin on his hips and the inside of your thighs.

“Better?” Eren pulls you in for a kiss; you can feel him grinning through it.

“Maybe a little,” you admit, laughing light and watery against his mouth.

“Mmm,” Eren hums, grabbing you by the hips and lifting you only to drop you down again and turn your laughter to a quiet whimper, “not good enough. Need you to be much better.”

“Fuck me, then,” you nip at his bottom lip, earn yourself a deep groan.

“Can you— can you hold yourself up like this?” Eren scooches both of you down, albeit, a little awkwardly, so that he can lay flat on the bed. He moves you up until you’ve only got him halfway inside of you, cocking a questioning eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, I–I think so.”

“And you’re sure I’m not going to hurt–”

“Jesus Christ– no Eren, it’s fine, just– fuck,” he cuts you off with a sharp snap of his hips up into yours, grinning menacingly when your eyes roll back.

“Like that?”

“Just like that,” you moan, annoyance wiped from you with one clean stroke. Eren takes that for the green light that it is and starts pistoning his hips up into you, swearing under his breath. Even though he’d instructed you to hold yourself up, he makes good use of his new muscles, suspending you at the perfect height to feel every inch of him as he fucks up into you like his life depends on it.

“You look so fucking gorgeous like this,” Eren growls, “all swollen with my fuckin’ baby. Gonna keep you like this, give you as many as you want.”

“Eren–” you choke out, suffocating on the way he’s fucking you, his words, him. For the first time in months, you feel amazing, holding your chest and groaning long and loud as Eren thrusts up into you.

“Baby, I’m- fuck, not gonna–” Eren cuts himself off with something that sounds suspiciously close to a whimper, throwing his head back.

“Cum in me,” you pant, nodding urgently at him, “want it so bad.”

“Oh fuck,” Eren groans, hips moving impossibly faster. His fingers are digging into your hips near to the point of pain, and that little frown he makes when he’s about to cum is crumpling his face. You do want it, badly.

“Please Eren, I need it,” you gasp, legs trembling on either side of his hips.

“Fucking love you, love you so much,” Eren slurs, hips stuttering. With a long, throaty moan, he slams you down one final time, cumming deep inside of you. You grind against him as he does, moaning along with him at the familiar warmth in your belly. Exhausted, you momentarily forget about your bump and try to collapse facefirst on him- that’s enough to snap Eren out of his post-orgasm haze.

“Whoa, whoa,” Eren shoves you back upright, lifting you under your shoulders and laying you on your back, “careful.”

You wince. “Shit, sorry. Sometimes I forget. It’s still sort of new.”

“I know,” Eren agrees, eyes locked lovingly on your baby bump, “love it, though.”

“Really?”

Eren cocks a disbelieving eyebrow at you. “If that didn’t convince you, I don’t know what will.”

You giggle at that; he’s always been good at this, cheering you up and diffusing your worries like it’s second nature. After ten years, it probably is at this point.

“I don’t mean to be so down on myself, really,” you sigh, tracing a finger over where his hand’s splayed on your stomach, “it’s just…so much harder than I thought it would be.”

Eren nods thoughtfully. “That’s reasonable. But you’re so good at it.”

“I haven’t even– what?” The insecurities that you’ve been successfully masking under good natured teasing and occasional annoyance come slipping from between your lips. You’ve thought it for weeks; how Eren’s so into all the baby stuff, so enthusiastic about learning everything he can, while all you’ve managed is trying not to gag when he cooks eggs in the morning and picking out some onesies. “What about all of your books and your podcasts and crap? You’re the one doing everything.”

“That’s all I can do,” Eren scoffs, “you’re doing all the hard stuff, like carrying the baby around and puking every morning and crying all the time–”

“Hey!”

“I’m serious,” Eren shushes you, “you’re putting in all the legwork. I mean, you’re literally growing our baby. You’re a fucking rockstar mom already. If anyone’s not doing enough here, it’s me.”

That’s one thing about Eren that will never get easier; his deep, unwavering admiration for you, no matter what you’re doing. Sure, it’s endearing when Eren spins you around in his arms for something as simple as finally getting that croissant recipe to come out well, but when he’s praising you for something that’s actually difficult? It’s sweet enough to give you a cavity, warm your heart, and turn your cheeks pink all at once, even after all this time.

“Well, if you’d like to take a shift carrying her around, be my guest. She’s a chunky little thing already,” you roll your eyes, tucking your face into Eren’s ribs to mask the flush rising to your face.

“I’d do it for you if I could,” Eren sighs in faux-thoughtfulness, “but I wouldn’t look half as hot.”

You giggle furiously when he lands a slap to your ass, swatting at his chest. “God, it still doesn’t feel real, does it? A little girl that’s half you, half me.”

“It does and it doesn’t,” Eren shrugs, bringing a hand back to your stomach, “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been thinking about it since Italy.”

You gape at him. “That long?”

“You know I’m always ahead of you on this stuff,” Eren teases, squeezing your cheeks together, “knew I wanted you first, knew I wanted you back first, knew we should get married…”

“Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes at his bragging, “it’s just, like…are we ready? To do this?”

“This?” Eren cocks his head.

“The whole…‘parents’ thing.”

“Putting aside the fact that you're way too late to be having those kinds of thoughts,” Eren says, rubbing your lower back, “of course we’re ready. There’s no perfect parents, but I believe in us– believe in you. Gonna be the best mama any baby’s ever had, I know you will.”

“I don’t even…oh, Eren.” You’re tearing up again–damn hormones. Eren wipes at your tears, planting a big kiss on your forehead.

“I mean it. You’re going to be great, already are,” he says, smiling down at you. He holds you just like that for a few moments, letting you nuzzle into his chest, until his little grin grows wicked. “Although…the only thing I can say I am worried about is which one of us is going to accidentally teach her her first swear word. Should we bet on it?"

Even through your tears, you cock an eyebrow at him. “You and I both know that’s going to be Jean. Especially after what you taught Clara the last time we babysat.”

Eren barks out a laugh. “Hey, hearing her call Jean ‘Daddy Jackass’ was funny, and you know it!”

“Thanks for reminding me,” you smirk, “now I know what I’m teaching our little girl first.”

“No way!”

#eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction #eren jaeger fanfic #eren jaeger fanfiction #ti penso universe #ti penso uni

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jeonqkooks · 1 year

Text

kyoho | ksj

You love your grape boy, and your grape boy... well, he might just love you a little too much.

pairing: seokjin x f!reader

rating: pg13

genre/warnings: established relationship, swearing bc when is there no swearing in my fics, mentions of seggs, suggestive themes, fluff, crack?? idk, my brand of fics is Unedited y'all know that's how we roll

word count: 1.8k

notes: i've been buying a lot of grapes lately (am i a grape person now??) and i've been eating them almost every day and of course i had to think about grape jinnie my beloved, my ultimate favorite seokjin and i want him to come back to me :((( idk that's how this lil thang came to me lmao it's the most crackhead shit i've ever written sOoOoOoOo please laugh or else ! 👿 jk but not really

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

"If you do this, we're done."

"Y/N."

"I swear, if you go through with this, we are over!"

Seokjin sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, clearly not expecting you to be so passionate about the subject at hand. "The appointment is in an hour," he says.

"Cancel it. I don't care!" you cry. "Please don't do this. Don't take him away. He means the world to me."

Your boyfriend stares at you, mouth agape, then points to his head incredulously. "Him? My hair?"

"Yes!" You crawl over to his side of the couch to straddle his lap, actual tears welling in your eyes. You run your fingers through his hair, marveling at how soft and silky it feels in your hands. His gorgeous, gorgeous purple locks. The ones he's ready to sacrifice in favor of half blond, half red hair by demand of one Jeon Jungkook.

You shouldn't be this upset over him dyeing his hair, but you are, despite knowing full well that the purple will be gone soon anyway. His dark roots are starting to show already.

It's shark week, and there are not enough words in the dictionary to express how devastated you are that he's taking away your emotional support Grape Jinnie.

A couple months ago, when he told you that he'd be dyeing his hair purple, you were highly skeptical of the decision. You didn't know if he had the face to pull off purple of all colors, even though you had already seen him sport every other color of the rainbow and absolutely rocked every single one.

The whole week leading up to his salon appointment, you teased him endlessly - started calling him Grape Boy, bought him box after box of Kyoho grapes, photoshopping Kylie Jenner's purple hair onto his head and making it your lockscreen... It was mostly just grape puns, you were really milking that whole thing.

But then he came home, hair freshly bleached and colored, and your jaw dropped to the ground and stayed there for ten whole minutes.

Your eyes almost fell out of their sockets from how good he looked.

No, he didn't just look good. He was stunning, breathtaking, mindbogglingly beautiful and all the other synonyms that one could name.

The man fucking ate and left no crumbs.

That night was one of the best sex you two have ever had.

To say that you were obsessed with this shade on him is the understatement of the year.

"Don't do it," you plead. "If you really love me, you won't do it."

"You're being so dramatic. It's just hair." Seokjin puts his hands on your waist while you keep yours on his head, clutching his strands like a lifeline. "Plus, I have to honor the bet!"

Your expression turns stony then, as your eyes travel from the silky purple down to his face. You tighten your grip on his hair and tug on it sharply until your boyfriend is scowling in discomfort.

The bet. The stupid fucking bet he made with Jungkook.

You had explicitly told him there no chance in hell that he could win, but Seokjin could be an overly confident asshole sometimes.

He was in way over his head, and now you're the one suffering.

"You idiot," you hiss, pulling on his hair again, "why the fuck did you think you could do more pushups than Jungkook?"

"I don't know! We were tipsy and it seemed possible at the time!"

Releasing his hair, you tuck your face into the crook of his neck and inhale deeply.

"Why am I being punished for your actions?" you mumble against his skin, then you ask, voice full of futile hope. "What if you just... don't do it?"

"Then I have to buy him a new mattress. He cut his mattress with scissors to make it fit into his bed frame and now it's all fucked up."

You give yourself a minute to think. There has to be a solution to your distress. You just gotta think. Think, brain, think!

And then you remember. Seokjin is still a man.

You lean back to look at him properly, straightening your position on his lap. You give him your biggest puppy dog eyes before you say, "I promise I will blow you every day from now on if you keep the hair."

If he was drinking water, you're fairly certain that he would've choked. Your boyfriend's eyes widen in surprise, his skin turning a dozen shades warmer, blushing from his cheeks all the way to the top of his ears.

Bingo.

"What?" he asks, like this is something so scandalous.

You lean forward to pepper kisses all over his face, putting more weight on your offer. "I promise," you say, pecking his cute cheek, "to blow you," then his forehead, "every single day," then his nose, "from now on," and finally his lips.

You linger near his mouth, not pulling away just yet. Your lips brush against his once more until you feel his hands tighten on your waist. You wrap your arms around his neck to hold him closer as you press forward, giving him a proper kiss to seal the deal.

Seokjin practically melts underneath you. Victory is so close that you can taste it. You're doing this for the greater good of mankind, for Grape Jinnie. Jungkook can fuck off with his half seasoned, half fried bullshit.

But then, Seokjin abruptly rips away from you to shriek, nearly blowing your eardrums out. The suddenness of his movements almost make you tumble off the couch.

"No, don't try to tempt me! Mattresses are expensive as fuck!"

It's been a few hours. He should be back any minute now.

Ever since Seokjin left to go to his hair appointment after having to peel you off of him because you were clinging to his body like a goddamn koala, you've been wallowing in your misery. You even busted out the big guns - Ben & Jerry's Peanut Butter Cup ice cream (with real peanut butter cups!) - to help you through this difficult time.

You're in full grieving mode now. Goddamnit. Fate is a cruel mistress.

Or in this case, Jungkook. Jungkook is a cruel mistress. That fucking guy.

When you hear the door open and the subsequent clanging of Seokjin's keys as he hangs them on one of the hooks in the entryway, you prepare to give him the biggest pout you can manage.

But then, he comes into view a few seconds later, and you gasp. You actually gasp. Before he knows what's happening, you're rising from the couch and sprinting toward him, launching into his arms with the biggest smile on your face like a kid on Christmas morning.

"You're still a grape!" you squeal joyously.

Seokjin lets out a surprise Oof! at the sudden force of your body knocking the breath out of him.

"What a warm welcome," he mutters. "I don't think you've ever been this happy to see me."

"What happened?!" you ask, eyes wide, grin even wider. "Did you change your mind because you love me so much?"

You run your hands through his hair to make sure that it's real, that you're not hallucinating this because you just love the purple so goddamn much.

And it is! It's still here! His hair is still that luscious shade of purple that you adore with your entire being.

Seokjin eyes you for a moment before he says, "I compromised with Jungkook. Did something else instead."

"What did you do?"

"I got a tattoo."

"You what?!"

"He said I wouldn't have to dye my hair if I got a tattoo of his choosing."

"Oh, no," you try to sound sympathetic but fail miserably. You cover your mouth with your hand to hide your smile, already sensing the absolute crackhead chaos that will ensue in a matter of minutes. Having been friends with Jungkook for years, you know that dude comes up with the craziest shit sometimes.

Seokjin turns around and pulls up his shirt, and you almost die from the fit of ugly snorting laughter that immediately rips itself free from your mouth. His skin underneath the transparent cling film is still slightly red, but the letters adorning the expanse of his lower back is clear as day.

You cannot find it in yourself to blink, not when the black ink is just staring at you like that. The font, so formal and classic, and yet the content of it... what a contrast.

"Kim Seokjin!" you wheeze, wiping tears from your eyes and struggling to catch your breath. "How could you possibly think that this is a better idea than to just dye your hair!"

"You begged me to keep the hair!"

"I did," you agree, clutching your stomach as giggles continue wracking through your whole body. It's almost painful at this point. "But I don't want my boyfriend to have a tramp stamp that says fucking Chicken in Times New Roman!"

"It was either this," he says, turning back to face you, "or a sketch of his head on a chicken's body."

"What is up with him and chickens? Is that his new thing now?"

"I don't fucking know!"

"Well, thank you for doing that for me," you say appreciatively as you pull him in for a kiss, which isn't very graceful because you're still tittering the whole time. "But please tell me that's not permanent."

Seokjin stays quiet, his eyes dropping to the floor, and you stop laughing immediately.

"Oh my god," you say. "Is the Chicken tramp stamp permanent?!"

"No," he finally admits after a moment of hanging it over your head. As funny as the whole thing is, you do not want the love of your life to walk around sporting the most ridiculous tattoo in human history. "It's supposed to fade after a month."

You lean into him again, heaving a giant sigh of relief and wrapping your arms around his neck. One of your hands go for his hair again, weaving through the soft locks with your fingers because how could you not? "I love you, Grape," you say, pecking his cheek with a grin.

Seokjin rolls his eyes affectionately, but returns a peck to your own cheek. "I have a tramp stamp of the word Chicken and my parents might disown me for that, but at least you get to keep your Grape Boy," he says, making you giggle again.

"Because you love me so much, right?"

"Hmm. You're lucky I do."

You give him another kiss, one full of gratitude, for indulging your antics. When you move to return to the couch, Seokjin tugs on your wrist, pulling you back into him.

"Now correct me if I'm wrong," he says, acting all coy and shit, "but I recall you making me a promise earlier, no? What was it again?"

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benkeibear · 6 months

Text

⋆꙳✧༄ Count for me

❖ Character: Barou

❖ Reader: female | AFAB

❖ Wordcount: 1.1k

❖ Summary: Barou needed to punish his bad girl for getting the freshly washed sheets dirty, letting his anger out on you

❖ WARNINGS: sub!reader, a little fear play, spanking, slapping, oral (reader giving), face fucking, squirting, clit slapping

꒰ ͜͡➸ Back to Kinktober Masterlist

Barou hated how you have to eat in bed, especially when it crumbled and he just put fresh sheets on. You completely disregarded any concerns when you got out of the shower and cuddled under the sheets with some cookies and a good movie - that was until you heard the keys turn in the door, the package of cookies flying up from the small shock and spreading the baked goods along with their crumbs all over the clean sheets. Knowing your lover will be anything but happy, you tried to collect most of it until his steps reached the bedroom door, the gentle smile he wore on his face slowly fading as if he witnessed a crime scene. In a last effort you wiped the crumbs onto the floor but they landed on the carpet in front of his side and you swore you saw a vein pop at his temple as he simply watched you. “You have exactly 5 seconds to run” he grumbled which made you realize that his practice didn't go well so he was loaded with anger anyways. Frozen in your fight or flight reaction the image of Barou taking his anger out on you flashed before your eyes, the way you only dirtied the sheets more with your juices, the way his rough hands spanked you until sitting hurt for the next few days but you whimpered for one more, one more slap to get you over the edge. Pupils dilated from lust, you crumbled a cookie in your hand, seeing him getting angrier. “You fucking- that's it!” he snapped, taking long strides towards you before forcing you to lay over his lap, you pajama shorts easily pulled down your legs which made you kick and whimper in his harsh grip. His exterior cracked for a moment, concerned eyes meeting yours but the smallest nod from you was all the consent he needed, large hand rubbing the globes of your ass. “You will count. Ten on each side” He ordered stern and his hand connected with one of your butt cheeks in a harsh slap. “One” you squealed out, the sting slowly traveling through your behind and into your body. Slap. “Two”. Slap… “if you miss one i will start over” he warned you a nod his hand rose anew, ready to connect with your supple flesh once more. “THREE” you yelped before his hand came down again, whining at the impact.

He just loved being able to take his anger out on you like this, being rough hand manhandling you all while pleasing you. Although it did make him wonder how this could possibly turn you on - but he preferred not to question it, his hand coming down to the globes of your ass repeatedly. Your cheeks were stained with tears at the end of the promised 20 hits and Barou gently wiped them with his thumb “You know i had to, princess” he said sympathetic and gently spread your cheeks, getting a lock at your folds that were glistening with arousal. “Such a naughty girl… getting wet from being punished” he mused, his thumb plunging into your entrance, making your walls flutter around the thick digit, head nodding eager. This was what you needed, your neglected cunt screaming for your lover to be taken care of.

Without further hesitation Barou lifted you off of him to manhandle you onto all fours, facing him as he stood in front of the bed, slowly pulling the hem of his sweats down. Your lover's cock slapped against his defined abs once it was freed, his menacing glare fixed on your pathetic face, begging to be fucked until you're nothing but a crying mess - his crying mess. His hand connected to your face in yet another slap, much more gentle than the blows delivered to your rear “Don't just stare. Suck.” He ordered, every word laced with venom. You weren't fast enough for his liking so he took matters into his own hands, grabbing a fist full of your hair and forcing you to take him whole despite the resistance your throat put up. Mercifully he waited until the gagging ceased, wishing his cock would choke you longer so he could hear your pathetic lungs begging for air but your throat chose cock over oxygen since you remained still even when his hand removed itself. Big doe eyes looked up at him until fat streaks of tears rolled over your cheeks - only then he took ahold of your head again so he can properly fuck your face. Heavy balls slapped against your chin, saliva coating the lower half of your face, slowly dripping onto the sheets beneath but he didn't care anymore, pulling out when he had his fill of your warm mouth. “Turn around” he growled an order and you immediately obeyed, your pathetic face pushed into the mattress when he thrusted into your sopping cunt with just one thrust, the oxygen leaving your lungs once more with each jolt of your body when he thrusted against your hips.

The sounds echoing off the walls were obscene, moans mixed with grunts, accompanied by the wet slaps of skin as he ruined you. Another slap on your ass left you clenching around his thick cock, a predatory grin spreading on his face when he reached around to rub your sensitive clit. Your entire body was shaking at the intensity of your orgasm, clear liquid spraying onto the sheets, messing them up even more as Barou tapped your clit with small slaps, dragging out your orgasm until your collapsed. Seeing you this helpless beneath him was what he needed, pulling out of your tight heat with a grunt, his hot seed spurting all over your back as he palmed himself above your miserable frame, legs still shaking. He held his weight up above you, still standing in front of the bed but his upper body was slumped over you. “Go clean yourself. You're so fucking dirty” he mumbled and kissed the back of your neck, making you giggle slightly “And I'll take care of the mess you made” he added, the sheets ruined with your juices and the crumbs. All he got in response was a low groan from you “can we take a bath together? Getting clean together” you asked softly, unsure if you're even able to walk yourself to thee bathroom since your legs felt like jelly. Barou only sighed before scooping you up into his arms “You can be lucky i love you” he grumbled before kissing your forehead. Making a mess could be so relieving, especially if it's his loving girlfriend he can ruin.

Networks: @enchantedforest-network @themovingcastlez @planetonet

#blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #barou x reader #barou smut #barou x you #bllk x reader #bllk smut #—Rhys Kinktober 2023

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anonimusunnoaniswriting · 3 months

Text

𝑴𝑫𝑵𝑰 🎀Age in bio or blocked🎀

The slow and deliberate way Suguru kisses you, makes you feel like there's nothing else that matters in the world.

The universe could be burning up in flames behind the two of you, but seated in his lap, his lips, perfectly placed on the top of yours, burn hotter.

His passion, his desperate need, his darkening lust, all come through as the kiss turns sloppy and has you melting into his arms. You can feel his smile against your mouth. He'll break away from the kiss for just a second to plant a chaste little peck on your nose. Then, carding his fingers through your hair, he'll kiss you again, this time with an urgency and fervour that travels down your throat, hitting that sweet spot making you squeeze your thighs together. Only now, they're being forced apart and his thick long fingers are rubbing against the fabric of your underwear– which is embarrassingly damp already. His head dips down to your chest and he nuzzles his face against it, almost cat-like, leaving little kisses on the exposed skin while his fingers toy with your panties.

His long hair lies loose against his back and you twirl a few strands around your finger...

The growing bulge under you catches your attention when it twitches – at the same time that he slips a finger inside your underwear. Soon enough, you'll be sweaty and panting underneath him and he thrusts roughly abandoning all sense of propriety.

What better place to be than in your lover's arms?

AN: I hate how long this is... It's weirdly long... Anyway have a crumb, getou girlies.

#geto suguru #jjk geto #geto x reader #jujutsu geto #geto smut #anonimuswritings #anonimusunnoan #fanfiction #smut #getou x reader #getou suguru x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk

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maple-the-awesome · 7 months

Text

Tiny Little Details ||

Pairing: Four x GN Reader

Words: 1,781

Requested by @pinkalmondcake: May I please get some four fluff of that's alright🥹He's just so cute and I was thinking about reader discovering a small minish four when they landed in his world (he wanted to check on the minish) and the reader didn't know he could be so smol and four becomes embarassed seeing he likes the reader (and the reader is a bit taller than him seeing he's a small bean anyway XD) and when they discover they like each other than as the reader somewhat confesses, then they pick him up in their hand and he's blushing and everything. He also gives them a peck on the nose and hugs their cheek while squealing on the inside! (sorry that this is a longish ask!) And I hope it was fine to ask too! ^.^ I love the parts to your crush and your new part for sacrificing ourselves for the chain! ❤️ Four is officially the most adorable Link and that must not be forgotten🥺I mean, where else are you gonna find a better boyfriend than one you can literally just keep in your pocket? Here you go, hun!

Zelda Masterlist 💙 Fandom Masterlist

Minish are rather generous, taking it upon themselves to hide little goodies in the grass for travelers to find like extra hearts or rupees, but they also host the sweetest little tea parties made up of droplets of tea and crumbs of cookies which are perfectly filling for anyone matching their size.

It's a much needed break, Four decided some time ago. Away from the stress of trying to keep Hyrule (and numerous versions of it) safe while also maintaining his own sanity while faced with eight other heroes, a few of whom can be a bit much to deal with at times, as he's learned.

For the most part, they all get along well, likely due to their shared destinies and deeper understandings towards each other's struggles, yet that doesn't mean they all share the same personalities. It isn't constant, although also not rare for some to butt heads here and there, leading to raised tensions as well as the need for fresh air like in Four's current case.

When he huffs a bit too loud, he must reassure his Minish friends that everything's fine, even asking for another drop of tea to fill his miniature cup, however it's difficult not to feel new dismay at the sight of a golden sky above.

Truthfully, Four had cooled down a while ago, already letting his anger towards the other boys roll off his shoulders, but that doesn't mean he wants this peaceful moment to end any quicker. If it were up to him, he'd stay with the Minish longer, trading merry stories about his recent adventures that almost take away from the dark energy looming in the air. Alas, he should probably return soon before anyone begins to worry too much, although as he soon learns, it might be too late for that.

Four was just about to dismiss himself when he heard his name being called. To the smallest beings of the world, it sounds like thunder crashing through the sky as does the crunching of footsteps that almost shake the earth as they get closer, but Minish are used to such disruptions and even Four shows no concern upon recognizing the approaching voice.

"FOUR?! ARE YOU OUT HERE?!" It's you; both a good and bad thing. Good, because out of all his traveling partners, Four must admit that you're his favorite. Your presence arouses a similar sense of calming comfort in him as being around the Minish does, the only difference being the wooziness you curse upon him from your smile alone. Yes, it would be safe to say that Four has become enchanted by your beauty, both inside and out, so he's actually quite happy to hear your voice as you search for him. The problem then? He's still the size of a Minish himself and the only person in the Chain who knows about this ability of his is Twilight, not you.

It's okay. This is fine. He's barely the size of a rupee, hidden amongst a tall forest of flora. To find him on your own, you would have to actively hunt through the flowers and blades of grass which you definitely aren't doing now. Instead, you're scanning the entirety of the field at eye level because you reasonably believe that if your friend is truly out here, you'll be able to easily spot him by doing so, after all, he may be shorter than you, but not as short as to be below your feet (if only you knew).

Four plans to stay silent and wait for you to move along elsewhere which would give him time to turn back without your notice, however he hesitates to commit to that decision once you come into sight, allowing him to officially see just how worried you look. If he didn't know any better, he'd say you appear to be on the verge of tears, growing more frantic by the second.

You can't be blamed for your concern. Four has been gone for a while and isn't usually a Link to wander, not to mention you were told he left in a huff after being on the receiving end of harsh teasing from some of the other boys. No one has heard from him since, so in your mind, you've concluded that he must be really upset - possibly even hurting someplace.

Not that he knows it yet, but you've been searching for him nonstop after finding out what had happened back at camp which is why you're in this field now; it's the last place you can think of as you grow desperate to find him before the sunset fully sets. How terrible would Four have to be to ignore these fears of yours, letting you continue worrying yourself sick when it's within his power to smooth your anxieties instead?

"...Uh, I'm right here," You can be forgiven for doubting you hear anything at all provided how quiet the voice had been and the fact that no matter which direction you turn to, you can’t seem to locate the source until it speaks again in a squeak, "Down here. To your left."

You're understandably shocked to look down and find a miniature version of your friend struggling to climb up a small nearby rock (which must feel like a mountain to him), his presence suddenly very clear as his colorful tunic helps him stand out against the gray, "...F-Four? Wha - How did you get like this? What happened?!"

You could spend all day coming up with explanations for your friend's new appearance, however you'd likely never land on the correct one and it doesn't help that you can barely make out any of his explanation, his voice matching a mere whisper despite how he shouts his words for your attention.

"H-Hold on. I can't hear you," You immediately kneel down in front of the rock, instinctually reaching out towards him yet freezing mid action. He cocks his head to the side, curiously waiting for you to gain enough confidence to pair with your next question, "I...Would it be okay if I pick you up? Or is that rude? I don't know if that’s rude or not or if you -"

Amid your rambling, Four nods, taking a few steps forward which you take as an invite to lower your cupped hands against the rock and allow him to climb on. Once able, you gently lift him to eye level, "Are you okay? Is this...normal for you?"

He nods again this time paired with a shrug as if this whole experience shouldn't be too much of a surprise, then again, the more you think about it, it probably shouldn't be. First Twilight now Four. You really should interrogate all the boys to find out what other crazy secrets and abilities they may be keeping from you (you're already guessing Time has a few up his sleeves).

You sigh upon realizing Four truly does seem okay, nothing about his tiny expression giving away any negative emotions, in fact you can make out an amused smile as he watches everything set in your mind, "...I was starting to freak out there a little when I couldn't find you. Hyrule said you ran off after Warrior was giving you grief about your height earlier. They made it sound like you were pretty upset - which you shouldn't be because who gives a crap if you're the shortest in the group? You're still plenty smarter and Hylia knows more mature than to tease your comrades into running away - but my point is, since you hadn't returned yet on your own I began to think that maybe you weren't coming back at all and -"

"- Thank you for worrying, but I actually wasn't that upset about what Warrior had said," Four cuts you off while setting a hand on your thumb. His touch only has about the same weight as a feather and even tickles a bit, however you force yourself not to focus on that.

"You weren't?"

"No. I was more annoyed than anything since it does get repetitive to have people constantly pointing out my height -" He rolls his eyes at the thought, "- But I don't mind being the shortest. Like you said, I have other strengths, not to mention there's actually a lot of advances to being short."

"This being one of them?" You smirk, wondering what he could've even been up to while so tiny, although that's a question for another day.

“You could say that,” Four shares your laughter, "...I guess it probably is a good thing you're the one who came looking for me, though. If one of the others were to find me like this, I doubt the jokes would ever end."

"Oh, I'm sure. They'd give you hell. You are pretty adorable like this, though."

Four blinks, not certain if he had heard correctly. He might've fully dismissed the comment if not for your own realization at what you had just said, the embarrassment clear upon your bashful expression and hurried excuses, "W-Well, what I meant to say was that...Objectively, small things are considered cute, and you're like the size of a little mouse which is adorable, even though you're always cute, it's especially when you can just fit in the palm of my hand like this - which isn’t the point! But I, umm -"

Once again, Four is kind enough to save you from digging yourself further into a hole, the only difference is he does so without much prior thought, instead blurting the words eagerly himself, after all this might just be the perfect opportunity to get it off his chest, "- I think you're cute, too! You're, uh, always cute, too."

You stare at him without response which may have been a scary thing if not for your wide, delighted grin; something that only confirms Four's previous statement.

"Could you, um...?" He coughs into his fist, looking away from you with a fierce blush, "Bring me a bit closer please?"

It takes you a moment to understand what he means, but once you do, you quickly nod and move your hands closer to your face, thus bringing Four close enough to lean out of your hands ever so carefully so that he may place a barely felt kiss upon your nose.

Startling him a bit, you can't suppress the squeal you give as a reaction, "I'm sorry, but that was sooo adorable!"

He chuckles and although he may not make a sound beside it, don't doubt that he feels the same squealing joy in his chest as you sit back in the grass with him held warmly against your cheek.

"...Shouldn't we get back soon? Won’t the others worry?"

"Let them. It can be their punishment for being jerks earlier."

#legend of zelda #lu four #lu four x reader #linked universe x reader #linked universe #link x reader #x reader #reader insert

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papayadays · 13 hours

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daisies - f1 driver x engineer!fem char

warnings: none, angst, nothing f1 related explicitly mentioned but implied, driver can be whoever you want, enjoy! this is my first piece of writing so any feedback is greatly appreciated!!

It was always the flowers. Everything came back to the flowers. Every single moment shared was somehow linked to them.

One daisy.

He had showed up to her place, knocking on the door quietly, but with a sense of urgency that left her wondering who was at the door. It was the weekend, and she was traveling for her job, which she did constantly. Not that she was complaining though. She loved her job, the thrill of knowing she was a part of something so big was an adrenaline rush. It was amazing.

She was on the couch, looking over some data on her computer when four short knocks echoed through the hotel room. Furrowing her eyebrows, she stood up, dusting off some crumbs from the snack she had been indulging in. Opening the door, she was met with him. He was wearing a black hoodie with some grey sweats but the most striking thing in that moment was what was in his hand. A single daisy. His smile widened, the one that many were used to seeing, as he held out the flower to her.

“Hey,” he grinned as she took the flower, spinning it between her fingers to observe it. “Can I come in?”

“I thought I said no date?” she asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t date people I work with. Especially not…”

“Are you really working with me, per se?” he countered, a smug expression on his face. His dimples were visible as she enjoyed the sound of his accent. “C’mon, we just had a win today. Let’s just chill.”

She rolled her eyes, but a small smile formed on her face. Technically it was a podium, but whatever. “Fine,” she conceded. “But this is not a date.” She pointed a finger at him, but he merely pushed it away.

“Agree to disagree,” he shrugged, glancing at her computer. “Data from today?” She nodded, slightly embarrassed for no apparent reason.

“Yeah, just going over some things,” she responded quietly. “Anyways, I have some pasta cooking right now, does that work?”

“Perfect” he beamed. She went to the fridge, about to pull out a bottle of wine and two glasses before he stopped her. “I’ll pass on the wine today, already had enough champagne from the podium.”

“You’re just not going to let it go that you got a podium, are you?” she asked, an amused expression on her face as she went and got two cans of LaCroix. “Does this meet your high standards, podium boy?”

“I believe it does,” he smiled back, and this was a side to him, she realized, that she could get used to. “So, tell me a little bit about yourself.”

A handful of daisies.

On the marble counter was a white vase with some daisies as she walked by. By now, his apartment was a common sight, though she didn’t want to fully commit to living together just yet. She didn’t want to tie herself down, and she relished her independence. But at the same time, she loved spending time with him, her boyfriend. He had asked the question a few months back, during a dinner reminiscent of their first date together, and she had happily agreed.

Since then, it had been a whirlwind of the honeymoon phase. Travelling, dates, smiles, everything was perfect. Now, it was Monday and the two of them flopped onto the couch, jet lag kicking after coming back from a busy weekend.

He laid his head in her lap, her fingers threading through his brown curls. She smiled, humming absentmindedly as she read the book in her hands. “Whatcha reading?” he asked, eyes still closed.

“Just a cute little romance novel,” she responded, still reading. He paused for a moment, not saying anything, making her think he had fallen asleep.

“You know, if my life was a book, you’d be the best part,” he mumbled, sparkling grayish green eyes meeting hers. She felt her heart flutter as she closed her book.

“You stole that from that Daniel Caesar song,” she scoffed, a stupid grin on her face. “I still love you though.” She freezes, having not anticipated saying that. They hadn’t said yet, but she had thought it quite a few times. She studied his face, watching for his reaction.

“I love you too,” he smiled, pulling her down so that they were laying on the couch facing each other. Reaching over to pull her closer, she felt herself relax into his touch and grinned as he pecked a kiss to her cheek. At that moment, she knew he was going to be the one.

Ripped daisy petals.

She slammed her hand down on the counter, fed up. “I keep telling you, why are you so scared of us being public?” she snapped. Glaring at him, she dared for a rebuttal.

“I want to protect us, the media is brutal,” he retorted, stance mirroring her hostile one.

She gave him a pointed look. “That doesn’t mean you have to go out with models all the time!” she shouted, jabbing a finger towards him.

“It’s to keep up my appearance,” he protested. “So they don’t catch on.” She sighed in annoyance.

“Well what if I want them to catch on?” she practically screamed, eyes glaring daggers. “Do you know how hard it is to go on social media and see my boyfriend with a model who’s infinitely prettier than me?”

“This is best for us!” he yelled, frustration laced in his tone. “Don’t you see that?”

She snorted. “Best for who?” she questioned. “Because it seems awfully suspicious that you just so happen to hang out with a lot of models instead of me.”

He gave her an incredulous look. “You think I’m cheating?”

“I don’t know anymore,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. “I just want us to be public but there seems to be something stopping you.”

“If you can’t trust me, I don’t know how this is going to work,” he said.

“Because it won’t,” she responded flatly. “All I’m asking is for one thing that means a lot to me. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep putting you first and I can’t even trust you, for God’s sake.” His jaw dropped open, eyes widening at her resolute tone.

“Wait, no,” he pleaded. “We can work this out, this sounds too much like a break up.”

“It is a break up.” With those five words, she watched as his face fell, tears welling up in her own eyes. Struggling to keep her voice even, she pointed at the door. “Just- get out of my apartment.” He hesitated, but after seeing her expression, headed to the door. Giving her a glance, he walked out, closing the door behind him.

Only now was when she allowed the tears to flow down her face, sobbing as she sank down against the kitchen counter. Nine months, all wasted. She thought he cared about her; apparently not. Next to her, she saw the shattered vase and daisies strewn on the ground. She had knocked off in her anger. Now, she reached for a flower, a piece of porcelain pricking her finger. She ignored the blood starting to bead up around her finger as she stared at the daisy, heart shattering at all the memories. Anger boiling up again, she grabbed a petal, ripping it off and throwing it to the ground. She kept going until she was surrounded by ripped petals, her heart broken like the vase and bleeding like her finger as tears streamed down her face.

A bouquet of daisies.

It was another weekend of traveling as she stepped out of the elevator. It had been a week or two after her break up, and thanks to her job, she still had to work in proximity with him. Every single time she saw him, all she felt was pain. She thought she was strong enough, but it hurt. Like hell. It was Saturday now, and she only had to go through tomorrow before she wouldn’t have to be around him all the time.

She opened up the door to her hotel room, not expecting the lights to be on as she closed the door behind her. The smell of pasta filled the air, but she was only focused on glaring at the person in front of her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, voice cold as she scowled at the man in a suit in front of her. “Who let you in here? I’m going to go talk to-”

“Please, hear me out,” he pleaded. When she didn’t respond, he took it as a green light. “I messed up. I was so scared that once we went public, people would start talking and then you’d realize that I don’t deserve you. Or worse, people will come at you. I guess I just wanted to shelter our relationship without a lot of external forces. But I selfishly didn’t listen to you, and I went out with all these models to appease the public.”

She watched him, keeping a neutral face but not glowering at him anymore. “I just was so scared of our relationship changing for the worse with the media factor, and I was scared of losing you.” He chuckled bitterly. “But I still ended up losing you. I’m so sorry I hurt you, and I shouldn’t have put you in a position where you felt like you couldn’t trust me. I miss you so much that it hurts. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I can’t stand not being near you anymore. I’m sorry for acting like a selfish twat. I really hope you can forgive me, and that maybe we could restart.” He held out the bouquet of daisies he’d been fidgeting with, almost like a peace offering.

“We’re not restarting,” she scoffed as she snatched the flowers, making him flinch in shock. Her mouth then curled up into the mischievous smirk he had gotten so used to before settling into something more serious. “You did hurt me, a lot,” she started out. “But I know you had good intentions, and you’re apologizing now.” She stepped closer to him, gazing into his eyes.

“I missed you too,” she whispered before she pressed her lips to his for a kiss. Pulling apart, she watched the ways his eyes lit up as he held her face in his hands, pecking her forehead.

“I’m never letting you go again,” he murmured as she only smiled, burying her face in his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the daisies.

“I don’t plan on leaving.”

#papayadays #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #papaya writes #lando norris #max verstappen #oscar piastri #daniel ricciardo #alex albon #george russell #f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 fic #charles leclerc #formula 1 #lewis hamilton

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localplaguenurse · 1 month

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Boss makes a dollar yadda yadda nine hour shift today SO here are the crumbs of a Fatui-centric Wild West AU I might hopefully one day actually do something with that isn’t daydreaming vividly

Pantalone: Initially made his fortune as an oil man, then opened the Northland Bank once his new social status had been secured. Carries two pistols on his person for any poor son of a bitch who tries to square up thinking he’s some sort of soft rich boy, or when debt collecting isn’t going as smoothly as he thought.

Dottore: His reputation as Il Dottore Corvo, a serial killer boogeyman who dissects and mutilates his victims beyond recognition, precedes him. He’s a travelling doctor though no one knows if he’s licensed, not that it matters because he knows his stuff anyways. He’s actually albino in this AU, so instead of his iconic mask, he wears tinted sunglasses to protect his eyes as well as a large hat.

Capitano: Town sheriff who’s never seen without his hat or the bandanna over his face. People talk about him the same way people used to talk about Chuck Norris in the 2000s-2010s (“he’s so tough he smokes gunpowder instead of tobacco!”) Rumour is he was the last man standing in his platoon, and his face was mutilated in the battle that killed his comrades. That’s why people sometimes call him Captain, it was his rank.

Childe: Farmboy with a violent streak who wants to be a rough and tough cowboy. Sort of living that dream while doing community service with the Sheriff as a punishment for shooting but not killing a certain oil man... Whether or not “that asshole’s had it coming a long time” is still debated. (He kind of did but no one wants to be the one to say it.)

That’s all for now. Will expand if not dead.

#fatui #fatui harbingers #Childe #tartaglia #pantalone #dottore #capitano #cowboy au #wild west au

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welcometoteyvat · 3 months

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real livestream reactions this time

GA-MING. GAMING 嘉明 ITS HIS PATCH !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE HIS VA I LOVE HIS FIT HIS MOVESET HIS DANCING ON WATER HIS CANTO INSPIRATIONS PLEASE

his VA is trying to do the canto phrases!!! and like a slight tinge of accent?????? hopefully she's getting there? i perked up when he said 我埋单 ("my treat") hehe wwwww he's so cute

family issues?? a dream job side hustle that his family doesn't really agree with but he still does anyways while doing a "more legitimate" main job? sounding more like xingqiu by the minute im intrigued

his little chibi at the end,,, and the sort of stop-motion paper animation with man chai was so cute. suanni man chai and (kind of) ex-god guoba meetup when??

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww my sonnnnnnnnnn oh my god

also. menogias. can we talk about this giant ass minu stage

LIKE WHAT. LORE???????? CHENYU VALE MINU LORE????? PLEASE? he's prolly my fave dead yakshas; circle forehead fashion designer monkey general one of zhongli's biggest fans (jk).... please give some crumbs

there's one guy in the xianyun developer interview who was like "please don't go too hard on us" it's a bit stronger wording/more pleading wording in chinese but he's so real for this lol. god bless thanks for you work just never look at my critiques or comment sections in general <3

im sorry but some of the buildings in chenyu vale kinda look like they got copy pasted from star rail xianzhou alchemy division map

i guess it's fine because they both look like suzhou waterway architecture w the white walls black tiles

oh never mind it looks too much like star rail xianzhou .... the rest of it looks super cool though. jade <3

xingqiu. sad face i'm sorry his skin looks dull i don't like the furina knockoff suit. i won't talk about the girls lol

GUOBA YUEGUI LMAOOO the minigames look cute honestly

traveler is cooking. aether's delighted face when the dish is finished was so funny i'm sorry

#i love you gaming #livestream spoilers #liveblog insanity #ga-ming #menogias #genshin impact

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drangercore · 2 years

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Love and Other Historical Accidents by @pacific-rimbaud

Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy never intended to blow up their life's work, but that's rather what they've gone and done. Now they're trapped 200 years in the past, with a broken Time Turner, a missing snuff box, a handful of overly-eligible daughters, and a House-elf in a cable knit cardigan. It will require the combined power of their keen intellects to get them home, if they'd stop arguing long enough to use them. As it turns out, history is just one damned accident after another.

Fandom: Harry Potter

Relationship: Hermione Granger x Draco Malfoy

Art by @gingerhuneybee, @jjuuppiter, @jaxxartbox, & yours truly

My first fanbind!

L&OHA is an impeccable story and is so very dear to me. This was the fic that made me go “I want that on my shelf!”, so here we are.

keep reading for more binding info and to see my gushing on the fic.

QUICK SPECS

153,854 words | 571 pages | 5″ x 8.5″

Binding Method: 3 Piece In Boards Bradel Body Font: Adobe Caslon Pro Decorative Font: IM Fell English

I am very proud of this book, having accomplished many firsts with it. My first book that I rounded and backed, sewed double-core endbands on, painted the edges, and used toner reactive foil and HTV on!

ON THE STORY

Sighs. What more can I say? It’s simply brilliant. A unique multifaceted story with incredible dynamics, clever foreshadowing, great character studies of Draco and Hermione, and such beloved original characters. It’s comedic and refreshing but it also takes on grief and goodbyes, and heartbreak. It’s fucking romantic and also So nuanced. I dislike stories that spoon-feed every little thing about the character, so the parlor tricks on this one? Ate every crumb of it. It was filled with implications and was misleading in the best sense. You’ve got to be an astute reader to catch some things the first round (which I definitely wasn’t).

While it doesn’t entirely shy away from typical lovey-dovies, the regard for mundanity and the inconsequential, I just find more inherently romantic. The exploration on time travel and the vivid prose further underscores the depth of PR’s talent. She captures so eloquently, the mind of an extremely logical person in a very illogical experience. I saw myself in Hermione so many times. The story demands to be read again and revels upon doing so. Pacific Rimbaud is such an incredible writer *sobs* all her works are simply a masterpiece.

That said, this beautiful story deserves to be turned into a physical book.

DESIGN PLAN (or lack thereof)

This is my first fanfic project and my third book overall which I must say was quite a leap considering my very little binding experience. I think the demon small niggling part at the back of my head got the best of me and positively thought she could make a relatively fastidious book despite the lack of skill. BUT nothing can stop me when I am overly enthusiastic about something, thus began my 2 month research, soaking up every gobbet of binding info in reach. As far as my book binding journey goes, gathering supplies was the hardest part lol. Bookbinding is not a common hobby in the Philippines so it was tedious to to look for materials and/or to settle on alternatives.

I credit 70% of the 4 month stretch of this project to my indecision. The novelty and sheer excitement with a new hobby, I think, divested me to properly conceptualize heh. I redid my typeset 1 billion times because I kept switching softwares: Word→ Pages→ InDesign. I probably have 8 versions of the typeset that will never see the light of day. Anyway, I did finally get the stuff done. Here’s my little design dump:

Nothing symbolic about the design really. I just worked around elements I thought were appropriate with the regency era and time traveling aspect: vines/ flowers and the time turner. I tried to reflect PR’s elegant writing in the book so hopefully I did it some justice. I added my fave works for this fic too and even drew fanart myself, here are some of them:

BINDING

I watched DAS bookbinding religiously during my research phase and I knew then that I wanted to someday follow his in-boards 3-piece bradel tutorial, but it wasn’t supposed to be so early on in my binding journey. One look at this book however threw me off course. It was incredibly ambitious of me, so I guess I deserved all the stress I endured in the process. I was supposed to trim the edges in between glueing the spine and rounding/backing, but I only had my poorly sharpened Php145 wood chisel to finish the task. That and nursing the finger my chisel wounded took enough time for the glue to dry, so I was fiddling with a stiff textblock the entire time after. I learnt along the way that a blow dryer and bone folder will be your best friends (and plenty of patience). I’d also like to apologize to my neighbors if you heard any hammering at 1am 😳

The covers were... finicky. For some reason, midway, I decided to make either covers differently, and all to the good because the one made following DAS’ tutorial ended up slightly warping. DAS’ was with two 1.25mm boards glued together, while my experimental one was with a single 2.5mm board of which I peeled layers off of to reduce its thickness in half as needed. (see pictures below for reference)

A lot of how the book looks like now is either born out of impulse or a desperate remedy. The book in turn is very gold. Chapter headers were impulsively foiled with gold laser reactive foil (so much for illustrating the headers only to cover them up haha *eye twitches*).

I accidentally stained the edges while smoothing with black sandpaper so I covered the mess with an admix of Sakura acrylic paint in black and Liquitex acrylic ink in iridescent gold (Paint order: 1 layer gold- 2 thin layers black- 3 layers gold).

I am very proud of my sewn endbands as this was my very first attempt at doing a double-core. I used DMC cotton threads in cream (712) and gold (E3821). Below is a close-up because why not. (as you can see, I had some flaking on the paint, luckily this was on the bottom edge so I fixed the issue on the more visible sides.)

I don’t like the bookcloth selection where I’m from (if there’s anything at all) so I made my own with pastel blue eco-ramie cloth, flour paste, and 80gsm paper. I ordered my fabric online and the shade was too icing-like. It looked tacky so I bleached to lighten. The white cloth also came from the same fabric which I bleached till it paled to white.

Titling was one of my biggest worries because majority of binders I saw were using a cricut to cut HTV. I almost entertained the idea of cutting it manually or even painting or embroidery, but to my luck, I found a local shop that offers vinyl ! cutting !! service !!! I sent them my design and they cut and weeded the vinyl for me. I chose white for the title and metallic gold for the vine detail. I messed up applying the word “historical” though, but let’s pretend i did it on purpose for the vintage feel.

Four months of faffing later, I have this story in corporeal form! Overall, I’m overjoyed with the outcome and I’d like to thank PR for the opportunity to have such a wonderful story on my shelf (and free to be read by anyone!)

If you made it this far, thanks for reading!

#love and other historical accidents #laoha #l&oha #pacificrimbaud #dhr #dhr fanfiction #fanbinding #bookbinding #dramione #my books #dramione fanart #fanfiction #fanfictionbookbinding #fanficbookbinding #fanficbinding #bookbinder #harry potter fanfiction #sting and snout bindery #buzzing books

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