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isuckatwritingsobenice · 3 months

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Infernal Shadows

Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it.

Song for this chapter: The world we knew by Frank Sinatra.

A/N: I wanna make this a three part short story, so if anyone is interested in being tagged in the second part just let me know!! I hope you enjoy!!

Word count: 2655

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!! // Serendipity Writes (event) // Part two

Getting an invite to the annual crimson ball, hosted by yours truly, was nothing but an honor. Every overlord and every sinner in the pride ring waited anxiously for a letter. A black card with white letter in a cursive font stating ‘You have been personally invited by Hells biggest designer. The list of the gala was simple. The usual overlords, Zestial, Carmilla Carmine and her daughters, Zeezie, Rosie, Fredrick Von Eldritch and Bethesda von Eldritch. Alastor who had came back after seven years of hiding god knows where, and by special request, the three vee’s who had never attended the gala before. Then it becomes a bit more political.

Next on the list was the Goetia family, inviting the recently divorced prince with his daughter. Inviting Lucifer and Lilith, though they only ever came when everyone was gone. Then was their daughter Charlotte, who got a plus one as a special perk of being the princess of hell. Husk because he had been an old friend of yours before his status of Overlord was taken from him by none other than Alastor. He was also given a plus one, though he usually never brought anyone extra. Sir Pentious was a candidate, but ultimately scrapped from your list of invites as you felt he was too childish.

The gala was tonight and everything was going smoothly. Preparations were almost done, the foyer was spotless just the way you liked it, and everything seemed to be falling into place. You stared at yourself in the mirror. You had spent months designing your perfect dress for tonight. Everyone attending the gala knew there was only ever one color off limits, because you always wore it best. The color black always suited you perfectly. No one could wear it better than you.

Back at the hotel, Charlie felt guilty for using her authority as princess to have people help her get ready for this gala. Based on what Alastor had told her, there would be a lot of political powers and fellow overlords there. She wanted to look her best if she was going to pitch the hotel to them. She needed more people on board with the project, maybe someone who didn’t think it was complete and utterly ridiculous joke like Alastor did.

“How do I look?” Charlie asked as the makeup and hair artists stepped away from her. Charlie stepped out, allowing Vaggie to get a better look at her in a tailored charcoal gray suit, a departure from her usual vibrant red attire. The jacket, adorned with subtle pinstripes, accentuated her frame, while the crisp, white silk shirt underneath added a touch of formality. Completing the ensemble, she wore a black tie with a discreet pattern that hinted at both elegance and authority. The ensemble was a strategic choice, projecting confidence and a readiness to engage with the political powers present at the gala for the sake of her hotel. Vaggie smiled and hugged Charlie deeply, their embrace making Charlie feel a little less nervous about the whole ordeal.

“Charlie you look amazing. What happened to the red?” Vaggie asked, before Charlie just chuckled.

“Well, I wanted a change for tonight. I’m always in red, and I feel like they’ll take me more serious if I’m not walking in there with my usual attire. Besides, you read the invitation, ‘formal attire, look your best’.” Charlie said. Vaggie nodded, and Charlie pulled back from the hug to admire Vaggie in her dress. She was wearing a sleek and modern grey dress that gracefully embraced the formal occasion. The dress, with its tailored fit and subtle shimmer, exuded class. The knee-length hemline added a contemporary touch, and Vaggie had decided to pair it with black heels to complete the ensemble. The choice of grey complemented Charlie’s charcoal gray suit, creating a coordinated yet distinct look that would surely make an impression at the gala. Charlie felt her cheeks heat up taking in her appearance, her long hair gently pinned back, the loose pieces of hair framing her face.

“Aww, Vaggie you look so pretty!!” Charlie said excitedly. Vaggie just smiled, ignoring the way her cheeks heated up at Charlies compliment.

“I agree, you look good vagina.” Angel said mockingly, causing Vaggie to glare at him. Charlie just gushed.

“Angel be nice. This is really important for the hotel.” Charlie explained. He just nodded, tilting his head back and downing a bottle of liquor. The staff however was interrupted by Angel making a purring sound at Husk, who was dressed in a nice white suave dinner jacket, with perfect cutouts for his wings, along with some sleek black trousers and some black dress shoes. The match, he had a black silk lapel.

“I can think of another place that suit would look.” Angel said, leaning onto Husk. He rolls his eyes, bottle in hand.

“Do I even wanna know?” He asks, and Angel just grins.

“On my bedroom floo-“ Angel doesn’t get to finish, being shrugged off by Husk who just walks away with a shake of his head.

“Oh my gosh! Husk you look amazing!” Charlie squealed in delight. Husk just smiled softly before setting his drink on the bar counter.

“It appears everyone is ready.” Alastor said, the focus of the room shifting to him. Niffty was at his side studying his outfit from head to toe.

Alastor emerged in an ensemble that deviated from his usual eccentricity, opting for a more formal yet captivating look. A deep red velvet tailcoat adorned his frame, its luxurious texture catching the light. Dark-red lapels, meticulously piped with gold, added a touch of opulence. Underneath, he wore a perfectly tailored crimson dress shirt, the power emitting off of him. Suddenly, the room grew just a tad bit darker, the shadows of the room stretching just a bit. Complementing the ensemble, he chose a pair of well-fitted black dress pants, allowing the bold red hue to take center stage on his appearance. His choice of footwear shifted to polished black oxford shoes, a departure from his usual pointed-toe boots. The finishing touches of the outfit included a matching red silk bowtie, neatly knotted at his throat, and black leather gloves that added a refined edge. Alastor’s presence was commanding, radiating an air of formality while retaining the distinctive charm that defined him. The room was captivated by the Radio Demon’s unexpected transformation into a vision of refined class and style.

“You took forever for that?” Niffty said, before Angel Dust tossed a pillow at her.

“Shut it you. We, we are keeping,” Angel said, hands waving around Alastor, “to whatever this is.”

“Style.” Alastor said confidently. Vaggie just face palmed while Charlie clapped her hands together excitedly.

“Okay, I think everyone’s ready. Should we head out?” Charlie asked. Vaggie nodded, before Alastor dug the invitation out of his coat pocket. Standing near a wall, he traced the symbol on the back of the card on the wall. “Uh, Al? What are you doing?” Charlie asked. He grinned, putting his hand flat on the wall. The symbol began to glow green, before it opened a portal. On the other side, was a large house. The grand Victorian mansion stood as a testament to opulence, its imposing facade adorned with intricate wrought-iron black railings and embellished balconies with hints of chains. Tall, arched windows with stained glass panels framed the exterior, allowing glimpses of the soft glow emanating from within. The entrance, marked by a sweeping staircase, welcomed guests with ornate, carved intricate detailed doors. Charlie, Vaggie and Husk followed Alastor through the portal, Charlie waving goodbye to Niffty, and Angel. Sir Pentious was most likely hiding out in a room somewhere with his egg boys.

As guests approached, they marveled at the meticulous details of the architecture – elaborate moldings, corbels, and friezes adorned every corner. Ivy-clad walls added a touch of nature’s grace, intertwining with wrought-iron lampposts that cast a warm ambiance over the meticulously landscaped gardens.Inside, the grand foyer unfolded, revealing a sweeping staircase adorned with a rich, mahogany handrail. Crystal chandeliers hung from soaring ceilings, their light refracted by ornate mirrors that lined the walls. Plush Victorian-era furnishings, upholstered in rich fabrics, adorned the parlor rooms, creating intimate spaces for guests to gather and converse.Every room whispered of a bygone era – intricately patterned wallpaper, gilded frames displaying classical art, and the faint fragrance of aged wood and lavender.

The air was infused with a sense of refinement, transporting guests to a time when elegance reigned supreme. The Victorian mansion, a splendid backdrop for the gala, promised an evening steeped in grandeur and charm. In the middle of the exterior grounds, a grand fountain of blood took center stage. Its sculpted marble figures spouted blood into the air, catching the moonlight in a dance of liquid elegance. The fountain, surrounded by manicured gardens and flowering shrubs, became a focal point for guests as they strolled through the outdoor spaces, the gentle sound of cascading blood adding a serene touch to the gala’s errie atmosphere.

The overlords arrival made the event much more real. Alastor hums to himself as he walks around the outside grounds. There are servants of all kinds walking around with glasses of champagne. Rosie is sitting on a bench, plucking thorns off a rose. Alastor smiles to himself, happy to see a familiar face he know he can confide in.

“Rosie dear! So nice to see you.” Alastor said with a smile. She smiles at him, teeth razor sharp.

“Do you think you’ll be getting a seat tonight?” She asks, snapping the rose off its stem and tossing it to the side.

“Well of course I will. It’d be a mistake if I wasn’t.” Alastor said with a smile, crossing his legs as he sat down next to her. Sinners from all over the pride ring were socializing outside of the large mansion. He knew you were inside finalizing preparations and possibly screaming your head off. Overall, the air was chilled with a comfortable atmosphere. Well, it had been comfortable, until a loud noisy vehicle stopped at the front gates. Everyone’s heads were turning, Rosie and Alastor looking at each other with strained smiles. Stepping out of the large limousine were the three vee’s, vulgar music blaring from the vehicles speakers as the three made their way through the now open gates. Reporters lined the edges of the gates, trying desperately to see the overlords inside and to try and sneak into the gala, which was starting soon.

“Mr.Vox! Mr.Vox!” News reporters shouted. Velvet was busy taking selfies of her and her outfit, her assistant following close behind her. Valentino was busy looking down at everyone, smoking his usual, while taking his long strides next to Vox, who was in the middle of the three.

On Vox’s right was Valentino, who donned a captivating look for the gala. His tailored white suit boasted a jacket that reached just above the knee, a subtle departure from his usual floor-length coat. The crimson silk lining peeked through, adding a luxurious touch to the outfit. The coat, reminiscent of his extravagant style, also had a vivid-red hue with his signature white fur trim at the wrists. The black and white striped fur trim along the center-front added a distinctive flair. A gold chain and love-heart-shaped broach fastenings adorned the coat, creating an opulent yet alluring look. Finally, he wore polished black heeled boots, maintaining the sleek and captivating allure that defined Valentino’s presence. The familiar color scheme remained intact, blending sophistication with a hint of provocative charm for the grand gala.

On Vox’s left was Velvet, who had spent months perfecting her outfit for the gala, in hopes she’d be invited of course. She had begged the boys to keep a good public appearance, in hopes they’d be recognized and invited to the crimson gala. Velvette, deciding to ditch her usual style, embraced a lavish and over-the-top look that represented her brand. Dressed in a knee-length dress, the garment had a striking blend of black and red hues. The dress, fitted at the waist, flowed into a voluminous skirt, creating a sense of extravagance. The bodice of the dress featured intricate lace detailing. A white collar adorned with a velvet bow added a playful yet mature flair. The sleeves, a fusion of burgundy and white patterns, contributed to the overall lavish aesthetic she had been going for. Her accessories took on a more refined form. Velvet gloves, adorned with delicate lace, graced her hands, and a pearl necklace adorned her neck, adding a classic touch, completed with maroon heels, each step resonating with a sense of grandeur. Velvet’s transformation into this upscale attire reflected her desire to make a statement at the Crimson Gala.

In the middle, and the brains of the three vee’s, was none other than the head of Vox Tech, Vox himself. He wore a sleek and modern dark blue tuxedo, tailored with precision. Of course he could only have the best. The suit featured subtle futuristic patterns that enhanced his ‘perfect’ sense of style. To complement his high-tech vibe, Vox wore a light blue undershirt with an upside-down broadcast symbol. Vox's gala attire seamlessly blended power and control with his technological edge, creating a memorable look in shades of dark blue, which in his opinion, was the best color.

Upon seeing Alastor, Vox’s eye twitched noticeably. The gates shut behind the three vee’s, closing off the gala to the public. The overlords begin to get closer together unknowingly, Zestial finding a comfortable corner to watch things play out. Carmilla and Zeezie stand close together, whispering to one another as both Rosie and Alastor stand from the bench. Vox, Valentino and Velvet make their way to the Radio Demon and his colleagues.

“I see the grandpa’s were invited.” Velvet says with a scoff, scrolling through her phone.

“So disrespectful.” Carmilla says under her breath, looking away from the three vee’s.

“Hm, interesting, and I was beginning to think the only interesting thing tonight would be the dinner.” Bethesda said, her brother nodding.

“Well, it seems the children brought their play date to the public then.” Zeezie says. The other overlords laugh and Valentino sneers at her.

“Well an idiota like you would think so. Then again, don’t you all do the same with your diapers?” He asked, puffing the smoke into her face. She growls at him, fists clenching at her side, but Carmilla stops her.

“Didn’t they say this was an adult only gala?” Carmilla asked, Rosie chuckling at her words.

“Oh can it grandma.” Velvete said. But Vox remained silent, having his own personal staring match with Alastor, whose smile was stretched ear to ear, teeth on full display.

“I thought this gala was meant for real talent?” Vox asked, stepping closer to Alastor.

“Well it was until you showed up.” Alastor said with a smile. “There’s no originality in copying someone else.” He tuts. Vox narrows his eyes, face twisting with anger as he steps closer to Alastor again.

“You wanna tell me something, you old piece of-“ Vox is stopped, the lights to the exterior of the mansion dimming. The lights behind the large front doors opening slowly. Two tall black shadowy figures stepped from the door, smoke at their feet.

“Thank you all for your attendance. As we know, the annual Crimson Gala is held every year, and this year is no different. With the new extermination date, important decisions must be made. Tonight, ten individuals will be selected to sit at Madame’s table where she will discuss private plans on how to move forward.” The two said in unison. Everyone fell silent as more shadows appeared, each one sitting on the sides of the steps. Lights around the staircases began to light up, and people began making their way up the stairs.

“Well~ this should be fun.”

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cryptotheism · 7 months

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These stages can additionally be broken down into several steps. The number of these steps will vary from alchemist to alchemist, but the most common form of the process involves ten steps. They are:

Calcination. Meaning oxidation by heating. Whenever you see an alchemist describe somemthing as a “Calcinate” that means its oxided. Rusty iron is “Iron Calcinate” old green copper is “Copper Calcinate”

Solution. Meaning ”dissolution in “sharp” (or mercurial) liquids.” This means breaking a substance down by bathing it in acids.

Putrefaction. Decomposition. Now that you’ve broken your substance down with acids, you gotta boil it in warm compost to induce fermentation. This part turns a nasty black color, and is often described by alchemists as the “Black Raven” which is soon ressurected as the “White Dove.” Thus marking the end of Nigredo, and the beginning of Albedo.

Reduction, The recovery of the fugitive “spirits” (Spirit in this context means a volatile substance) during the calcination process by means of a fluid (“philosophical milk”), whereupon a yellow coloration (citrinitas) appears. Basically, you’re adding back what you boiled off earlier. You know you’re doing it right when it turns yellow.

Sublimation. Adding the volatile, “spiritual” matter back to the vessel causes a violent reaction, and a red coloration. Alchemists often describe this as the raging of the “red dragon.” This is where Rubedo occurs.

Coagulation or Fixation. The reaction dies down, and the substance begins to solidify. This is the coagula part of solve et coagula. Congratulations, you have yourself some stable Prima Materia.

Fermentation. This is a rare step. Some alchemists like to add a little bit of gold at this stage to act as a sort of “Yeast of Gold” to speed up the process.

Lapis philosophorum. The Philosopher’s Stone! Now your prima materia can grow into ultima materia, (supreme matter). This bit is usually described as a heavy, dark red, mildly shiny, powder or stone. When you heat it up, it turns kinda waxy, but solidifies again when it cools. (What the alchemist has probably done at this point is produce mercury(II) sulfide, better known as Cinnabar.)

Multiplication. Now that you have your philosophers stone, you can shave off bits of residue, and use that to make more. Like a mushroom.

Projection. So you’ve got your Philosophers Stone, time to make some gold. All you gotta do is get some Philosophers Stone dust, and mix it into your base metal. If you’ve done your alchemy right, it should make the base metal change color until it looks like gold. In later, medical applications of alchemy, this is the point where you apply your panacea.

I do my best to explain the Magnum Opus, today on Patreon

#alchemy #patreon #occult

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two-red-lungs · 11 months

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The Kids Are Alright (Eddie Munson)

Your first date with Eddie Munson is fine, as far as first dates go. You get pizza together: meet awkwardly outside the door at 7pm, hands sweaty, exchanging nervous, butterfly-riddled smiles. You eat. He can't stop moving in his seat opposite you, tapping his hands on the sticky enamel tabletop. He looks at you with big brown eyes. Wary, at first, then as the night goes on and it becomes clear this isn't some string-along joke, or a prank, with boyish glee.

But the second date is the one that really shines.

Eddie, in all his intellectual glory, takes you to the Dollar Tree.

It's late, again, and the D in the logo flickers in and out of existence. The air inside smells like cheap plastic, dust, and the urban sprawl of capitalism. This is a place that's usually... dead. A pathetic sort of dead, where dreams come to die, the cashier looks about five seconds from falling asleep, agonizingly boring elevator music plays over tinny speakers, and Hawaiian themed teacups are on sale for ninety-nine cents.

You think god, what the hell are we even doing here? This is hardly a dinner date, or the bowling alley, or makeout point, or any of the usual dates your friends always bragged so cooling about. But then Eddie looks at you over his shoulder, spins on his heel, and throws his arms wide. His outfit jingles.

"Welcome," he says with a glint in his dark eyes, "to the goddamn kingdom of imagination."

You should leave. God knows to anyone else at school this date could sound like a horror story, an uncouth, uncool, unladylike disaster. But there's something in those eyes. Something vibrant and alive and real. So instead of leaving you think, okay. Why not.

Best decision of your life.

He knows this place by heart, every white-tiled aisle under the buzzing fluorescents. And he's funny, too: you didn't expect him to be so funny. As you both slowly amble and push your squeaky-wheeled cart he picks up random shit, talking as he fiddles.

A fuzzy caterpillar cat toy becomes his moustache. He wraps a crinkled paper streamer around his neck like a boa and faints dramatically against some of the shelves. He scurries to the aisle next to you and pretends to walk down a staircase, disappearing from view: when his moppish head pops back up again, his wild hair flounces.

Huh. He smiles like the sun.

Eddie asks about everything possible, and god, under his stoner slang he's whip fucking smart. You crack a joke or a sarcastic reference and he smoothly returns it with equal emphasis, two tennis players on the court.

You check out picture frames. Eddie suggests throwing a little spraypaint on it, a little silver paint to light the edges, some weathering with sandpaper, and suddenly you've got yourself some primo decor.

"You like to paint?" You ask him, standing in the aisle, holding the shitty wooden frame. He's looking over your shoulder. You can feel his body heat, this close.

"I'm a big believer in, uh. Creativity, y'know?" His smile is big, toothy. Still nervous. Like as extroverted as he is, as big as his personality could be, the sting of a scoff or a sneer could still hurt.

You tell him that's cool. Something in his eyes softens.

God, you don't know how many hours you spend in that place, just talking and touching shit and discussing potential DIY projects and cool ideas. You talk comics, and music, and Hawkins social politics. He tells you about Tolkien. You tell him about David Brin. He likes David Murray, you like Siouxie Sioux. You both agree the autumn leaves this time of year make the Hawkins High look like its roof is on fire (and god, if only).

Your cart is full of bullshit you don't really need, bullshit full of promise and potential, and Eddie is letting you ride the cart with your feet on the front bar as he pushes it down the aisle at mach one speed. He splutters behind you, your hair in his mouth. He's laughing.

The total comes to 12 dollars even. The plan for the next date is to turn the kids bathtub toys you bought- ducks and dolls and dolphins- into zombies and mummies and other creatures with the shitty barely-opaque acrylics set you scored.

The sky is black outside, and it's raining. He asks if he'll see you again this week, and you say yeah, duh. The air feels like fireworks- like lightning, like a live wire. You think for a second that he's gonna kiss you.

Eddie pulls out a silver-plastic tiara from under his vest, nicked free of charge from the girl's section, and sets it on your head. It's cheap, pattern-punched plastic with pink plastic gems. It's perfect. He's made you a fairytale.

Munson bows, smiles again- the one that makes his eyes crinkle- and then he's off in his van.

He's so weird. He's so strange. You don't understand him.

You think you really like him.

#eddie munson #stranger things s4 spoilers #eddie munson x reader #stranger things imagine #my writing #I'M NOT DEAD I'M JUST IN UNIVERSITY

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tteokdoroki · 1 year

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૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — suggestive, minors dni 18+, characters aged up to 20s, established relationship, pda, isagi just feeling you up in public, possession, manipulation (? kinda), fem!reader - i just wanted to write some cocky isagi again :(

idk i just… isagi likes that you adore him, he likes to show that off. you’re his precious little thing, you belong to him — and he loves that you think the world of him.

he knows what it’s like to win. to devour an opponent whole and crush their soul until it’s nothing but dust. but nothing could compare to the feeling of winning you over, having you pick him above everyone else. he can’t help but want to boast the fact to the world.

isagi knows how his teammates look at you, with wondering and jealous eyes when you bound up to him on the pitch and smack a wet kiss on his cheek. you’re so tiny when you press yourself up against him (he’s shot up since the start of the blue lock project), hands on his chest while you sing your praises to your boyfriend. ‘’m so proud of you ichi!’ followed by ‘you were so good out there!’

isagi knows that everyone’s watching when he grabs handfuls of your ass right then and there — leaning down to your height to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “can you say that again for me, precious?” he coos as your words lick at his ego, an air of cockiness blazing through him.

“yoichi…” you murmur hesitantly, your eyes shimmering with nervousness. “your friends are watching.”

isagi notes the daggers rin glares at your back, the way kunigami cracks his knuckles and kaiser rolls his shoulders. they should be jealous. of isagi and of you.

“c’mon baby, just one time. you know what i like to hear.”

he’s teething on your lower lip, pulling you flush against him because isagi likes dangling his precious gem in front of his friends like a carrot in front of a horse. letting them know that he’s on a whole other level to them. above them. where only the best can get the unattainable. only the best can get you.

“please baby, tell me one more time?” he goads you with innocent ocean eyes — slightly hazy from the thought of your praise.

“you’re the best yoichi, no one is better than you.” you stutter out, lips pushed into a sweet pout that just makes him want to devour you until there’s not a trace of you left.

someone curses not too far off from your side, either pissed off at how much you praise blue lock’s star player or how lucky he is to have a loyal little thing like you — one that clings onto yoichi’s every word like it’s the truth. he notices you wavering, flipping between shrinking away from your boyfriend to avoid riling up his teammates and asking for a kiss.

so cute, so loyal. like a puppy dog. “c’mere precious,” isagi’s voice dips an octave, his tone sultry with a tune taken straight out of the pied piper’s book. you let him man handle you closer, squish your cheeks between a finger and his thumb before he tilts your gaze up to meet his. “keep looking at me, only me, okay precious?” it’s more like a command than a question but your head nods along of its own accord. “i’m the only one you cheer for, got it?”

“you’re the only one i want to cheer for. you’re the only one i want to win, ‘ichi!” you squeak, saliva pooling on your tongue as he entices you with a kiss.

you sing his praises and they go straight to isagi’s head, inflating his ego much to the dismay of the other blue lock boys. “such a good girl, all for me, yeah?” he breaths, sealing the deal by pressing his lips to yours — tongue prodding at them so you open up, let him have his heated way with you.

and as expected, you trip over your own feet to have more of isagi, desperate to taste him before practice resumes. the others scoff and roll their eyes… jealous because isagi is the centre of your world, your everything and the very idea of that makes him a monster on the field.

#isagi x reader #isagi x you #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x you #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi x you #isagi fluff #isagi yoichi smut #isagi smut #isagi yoichi thirst #yoichi isagi x you #yoichi isagi x reader #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚💭੭ — aali just posted

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kulapti · 8 months

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Aug 2023, bookbinding of The Silent Isle Imbowers by Tharkuun.

I’m sooo so so pleased to finally share this! I have been actively working on this for many months and waited until Tharkuun received her copy before posting so the final result would be a surprise.

-----------About this bookbinding under the cut

This binding has been one of the more elaborate pieces I have attempted so far. This has been my first binding where I (1) made three copies of a piece at once, (2) used a modified a historical illustration, (3) collaborated directly with another artist on the decorative elements, (4) finished matching art for the cover and title page, and (5) layered paint and heat-transfer vinyl for the covers. These are also (6) the first non-tiny books I have made with this style of hinge and cover attachment.

Pretty much immediately after I first read this story I felt I had to make myself a copy of this. I had a strong mental image of a vintage-looking cover for a fairy tale, with a deceptively simple design of flowers on the cover, probably with fancy metallic accents, the kind of thing you’d find in an interesting used bookstore with no summary, no text on the back, no dust jacket, just the flowers and maybe a title. I’m going to make a separate post about making this cover design a reality because oh man has it been a journey lol! I designed and drew the digital art for the cover (digital because of the cut and application method), as well as the corresponding title page illustration (pencil and dip pen, scanned, title added digitally).

When I asked Tharkuun about it she was excited to suggest I get in touch with quillingwords, who generously agreed to collaborate with me! Among her talents quilling writes calligraphy, and hand wrote both the book title and chapter headers for me to incorporate into my plans. Check OUT those chapter headers! So fancy! A font could never!! Quilling has also been very encouraging and let me yell about this project in dms for months so the final result could be a surprise for Tharkuun. Thank u so much quillingwords, your calligraphy adds invaluable amounts of swag to this project.

I was going to do some kinda neat font for the chapter headers, but quilling’s work is too cool for that and I decided to use a modified piece of a historical illustration instead. The illustration also happens to be cool as heck: I was browsing the Artstor database (an academic quality resource available for free via Jstor, my beloved) and found E. N. Neureuther's 1836 gorgeous etching for etching of the fairy tale Briar Rose, an illustration made for a printing of a Brothers Grimm recorded German fairy tale with Sleeping Beauty elements. Much to my delight this illustration not only matches the general look I wanted but is actually relevant to the story, itself a Sleeping Beauty spinoff.

Slightly less stylistically consistent are the endpapers, which are prints of two different paintings by Arnold Böcklin: Isle of the Dead (1883) in the front and Isle of Life (1888). The first painting had occurred to me as an excellent visual to go with the story, and Tharkuun and I discussed this and agreed that pairing it with the related later, more optimistic piece was too thematically appropriate to resist.

I had fun and learned a lot making these books and I am very pleased with the result!!

Materials: Archival bookboard, cardstock, cotton cheesecloth mull, archival PVA glue, linen thread coated in beeswax, paper cord, red cotton embroidery floss. Blue cotton backed with archival paper, acrylic paint, machine cut black and gold heat-transfer vinyl. Laser printed text and illustrations. Metallic scrapbooking paper.

#artists on tumblr #bookbinding #ficbinding #fanbinding #dreamling #my art #here there be fandom #the sandman #the silent isle imbowers #tharkuun #described #id in alt text #pls imagine me screaming continuously about this project for oh idk 4 or 5 months? oh I can make shiny books??#im not allowed to @ people in this post apparently #links and fic rec in reblog #laying on the floor I found a few missing words I must have deleted on accident while fixing formatting #poppies (Papaver somniferum) and mugwort (Artemisia vulgaris)#tailfeather binding

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penguinlop · 9 months

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Yandere Alhaitham x Reader

/// Ignorance Is Bliss

Summary:

You discover that your new love, Alhaitham, secretly keeps a detailed knowledge capsule about you.

cw: GN reader, spoilers for alhaitham’s lore and sumeru archon quests, yandere themes, stalking, manipulation, implied not-sfw

Alhaitham knows better than anyone else that there's always a price to pay to enter the oasis of knowledge.

Sanity is the ticket those desert sirens crave to check before you board.

Enticing scrolls of information wrap around your waist and weary legs, dragging you toward the mirage of gilded wisdom. They dance around, heated faces burned from the whispers of sand. The glistening flow of cleansing texts and books containing forbidden, convoluted details tempts people's thirst.

It's all for the enlightenment. An intoxicating euphoria of comprehension, to feel the ivory branches and leaves of Irminsul flood their senses. Perhaps it's the glory, that "aha!" moment people desire. They want to fatten their parched egos and satisfy that sinister appetite. They hunger to be better than everyone else by knowing and achieving more, by finding the Holy Grail first.

Knowledge is the charmer; people are the sinful serpents.

As with any personal research project for him, it started with discovering the topic of interest

Alhaitham prides himself on being a man with principles rooted in logic. Rationality is the key to clarity. Dreams are mere distractions. They are fanatical fantasies that the mind plays to taunt and deceive. The Sages endlessly speak of how emotions only get in the way of breaking the Samsara and reaching Nirvana.

Perhaps the moon can only hope to achieve the greatness of the sun.

That is why it was noon when he first laid eyes on you in the House of Daena.

You smelt of orange blossom.

How could he forget that contemplative look as you searched for yellowing books riddled with dust to pique your interest and aid your studies? It was nothing out of the ordinary, a common spectacle rather. As a fellow member of the Akademiya, you were simply another eager student to him.

Holding onto such a meaningless encounter wouldn't be rational. He didn't even bother to gather information on you via the Akasha as a testament to his word.

But one evening, as the lustrous moon wailed in its cage, Alhaitham found you near the beautiful Sanctuary of Surasthana. It was a clear night with a gentle breeze, the perfect time to contemplate and relax amidst the choir of dusk birds. He was going up there to take a quick breather. There were too many annoying meetings he had to attend.

With a telescope in hand and a notebook neatly laid on a stone bench nearby, you gazed at the glorious heavens. A faint fragrance of rose water clung to your skin. However, that's hardly what he noticed at the time. There it was again: that contemplative look. They say the scholars of the Akademiya hold the weight of Teyvat by carrying the burden of denying ignorance, the blistering desire to keep on learning. Some seek to know more and more, even as they meet their fated end. It's an addictive, maddening cycle of peeping into the elusive unknown and searching for answers.

Yet you looked so peaceful. It was refreshing to see.

Alhaitham couldn't help but reminisce about the words his grandmother left him with.

"May my child Alhaitham lead a peaceful life."

"Lovely, aren't they?" you whispered as tenderly as dancing Padisarahs when you noticed his form enter the Sanctuary's vicinity. "Many say the stars are mysterious, but I think they can be quite playful. Every day I unveil more. It's like they ask me to come and be with them" A simple glance nearly made him burn with curiosity. He suddenly felt parched. "I'm sorry if I startled you. I can often get carried away with my studies." You chuckled at the cunning man. Maybe he couldn't even hear you with his headphones on.

Alhaitham crossed his arms and sighed. "It's fine. I should've known someone from the school of Rtawahist would be up here stargazing. I will be heading off then." Your telescope and blue robes were a telltale sign of your discipline; it was but a mere elementary-level deduction.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay? I don't want you to feel like I am hogging the place." The fragrance of rose water came oh-so-slightly closer. It was too sweet and enticing. The pragmatic man couldn't help it. He discretely used his Akasha on you.

After learning of your name and basic information, he came to the blatant conclusion that he needed to leave. Immediately.

Once again, he thought of his grandmother.

"You are such a smart child, but you must take care to have a clearer mind than others. You must understand that vain pursuits are but dust."

His mind was fogging up with too many eccentric yearnings. Aside from facts hastily gathered from the Akasha, he knew nothing about you.

It needed to stay like that.

He nearly scoffed. What was this? That old tale of Layla and Majnun? The man who went insane from love. Give me a break. What use would itching love be to his aspirations? At best, this was but a fleeting attraction. It would go away eventually.

"Look, I don't think either of us have any more time to waste." Alhaitham reviewed you once more before curtly turning around and walking away. "Now then, goodbye."

He had made sure to study the contours of your face, your eye color, your height, your posture, how your clothes fit you, and, most of all, that scent of rose water. But, really, it was all to avoid you for future reference. Yes, understanding one's subject is critical.

You raised your eyebrow as you saw his form grow smaller and smaller. Then, tilting your head up, you looked at the hypnotizing stars and deathly pale moon, trying to read your destiny and find the absolute truth.

Before he could completely escape your view, you used your Akasha Terminal on him. Perhaps you were also too curious. Sumeru's ideals were fostered by you quite well.

Huh, so his name is Alhaitham…What a mysterious man.

___

The art of coffee-making is a methodical process.

Roast, ground, brew, and serve.

It was akin to the process of learning that Alhaitham used: read, break down, reorganize, and question.

Depending on the customer's order, it could be embellished with spices such as cardamom, cinnamon, or saffron. In some cases, sugar may be added.

Alhaitham likes it dark and plain, an afternoon refreshment for the man on the go. While Puspa Café is a common place for social gatherings of people across all walks of life, ranging from lowlife sycophants to wishful merchants, he prefers to be alone. Solitude isn't as vexing as many claim. It allows him to think about his current ordeals. Moreover, it gives him time to read.

That day, one problem had left him quite disturbed.

The Dendro user has always been in-tune with his body. Ever since the brief confrontation that night, he had been physically and mentally agitated, with a fluctuating heartbeat, clammy hands, accelerated breathing, and racing thoughts. Coffee was a possible solution he believed could mitigate any troublesome symptoms. But, of course, in moderation. His roommate, Kaveh, could learn about the word moderation.

Yet this afternoon's refreshment only made it worse.

There you were again.

A ghastly deev haunting his every footstep. Spreading tendrils of nightmares across his skin to choke his throat, vivisecting his beating heart and rumbling mind to capture any essence of starry wisdom and pragmatic musings.

Closing the book he was reading, he noticed the color of the coffee that spewed out of your brass dallah. It was so light. Just from the sight of it, he could taste the nauseating sweetness, too lightly roasted, with too much sugar, honey, and spice. Scoffing, he bets you even untraditionally added milk to lessen the bitter taste. Children are the only ones who dream in this nation, yet one quick look at you was enough to guess that you never truly grew up.

As if you wanted to solidify his observation, your eyes glowed and the corners of your lips curled up when you spotted him. You made your way over to his table and asked if he would like to join you with a spring in your step.

Amidst the overpowering, bold scent of coffee clouding the café, he smelt it the moment you came closer.

Jasmine.

Were your decisions rooted in spontaneity, or did you cycle through a collection of perfumes? He couldn't help but ponder the answer as you awaited his response.

"Sure."

He adored the way you perked up at the sound of one word. A waitress quickly helped to arrange a larger table for you two.

This was just a way to get more information out of you. Nothing more, nothing less.

Yes, you could be of use to him. The third time's a charm, they say.

You quickly got comfortable, too comfortable. "Would you like to share some baklava or maamoul cookies? They are quite delicious, though I can order something else for you if you don't like them. Be my guest!" With a slight, delicate movement of your hand, you gestured to the assortment of sweets laying on a brass tray.

"No. I'm fine. Foods with such high levels of sugar only leave me restless at night. It's a nuisance to deal with while I'm trying to work. You should know better, too. Thank you, though."

You awkwardly glanced away. "I see…Well, that's not a problem. The offer is always there if you change your mind." Looking down at your hands nestled in your lap, you maneuvered the dying conversation elsewhere and swiftly began to ask about his job as the Akademiya's Scribe. The dreamy gleam in your eyes never faded

He couldn't get enough. His illogical thirst was growing.

His flesh began to blaze with anticipation. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad to entertain this romantic fantasy for a bit. Things could be tested with you. He was never one to be enthralled with the concept of love. It was too frivolous and melodramatic, but he supposed studious scholars never limit their perspectives.

"So, what's it like?" you chirped.

Why must you question him? He wanted to know more about you, everything there was to know. No, he had to know in order to finally get this greedy parasite wishing to feast on every bit of you out of his mind. Such a visceral need was consuming every inch of his very being. All semblances of practicality were withering before his eyes. No amount of bitter coffee was enough to quench the anxiety that plagued his mind, nor his bouncing knees, as you persistently asked him about his work and Darshan of Haravatat.

Of course.

How could he be so ignorant? His approach was all wrong.

Alhaitham graduated with top grades at the Akademiya; his professors commended him for quickly deciphering incredibly elaborate ancient runes and grasping unfathomably complex syntax and structure.

You were like that.

You were a puzzle waiting to be unveiled and exposed to him and him alone. The world has no need of getting to view such convoluted beauty. A rare individual you were, indeed. You managed to hold on to such childish ways of wanting to dream while still maintaining a mature air of unmatched wisdom in your research.

Alhaitham began the next phase of his project.

Studying the subject.

He thanked his grandmother for the lessons she taught him. All he had to do was clear his mind, and the path to wisdom was unfolding.

___

None of it was wrong.

No sane student at the Akademiya would ever take their exam blindly or be unprepared for a debate. Comprehension and studying are critical components to achieving success. So why set yourself up for failure?

Before asking if you would reciprocate his feelings, he had to know first. So many calculated scenarios were emerging through his mind as he thought of what would happen if he didn't make sure beforehand. He couldn't possibly let himself look like some idiot. He had to find out the exact percentage of success, no matter what it took.

After all, Alhaitham's hands were never the cleanest, even if he did like a cushy life.

That is why he felt no guilt when he asked to walk you home. It was very late at night. You were stargazing again. He just wanted to be useful.

Each step was seared into his mind. Each item of interest you pointed out on the way left him with more questions. Upon reaching your abode, sparks of pride flooded into his veins. He had guessed you lived in this area. You often walked here during mornings and later hours; it was a straightforward conclusion. Nothing special.

A tender smile graced your beautiful face. It was brimming with gratitude.

He ensured you entered safely and locked the door. It was only when all the lights were out did he truly depart, though. He had to see the peaceful expression on your face as you slept.

Once Alhaitham arrived home, he felt conflicted. Reasonably, there was no chance he could ever forget anything from today. Yet humans aren't without their respective flaws, especially involving memory. He didn't dare to ruminate on what may occur if he were to somehow forget even one piece of information you blessed him with. Every tidbit and morsel you fed him was significant in nature.

It was all part of his investigations.

However, he couldn't write such crucial facts in some random notebook. No, no; such things must remain strictly confidential. It was only logical. What if he misplaced it? Or even worse, what if his obnoxious roommate got to it? He rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue.

Summoning an empty knowledge capsule that he had obtained when he was ordered to draft more ordinances for the Sages, Alhaitham flooded it with every bit of data he had on you, from your slumbering form to your mellow smile and contemplative look. It was all there. Safe and sound, ready for him to access at any time.

Before resting, he thought of the way you smelt of orange blossom again.

___

You next met one morning at the Akademiya.

You wore no fragrance today.

Chuckling, you noticed Alhaitham stride towards you impatiently. He was clutching a small, decorative bag. After exchanging simple greetings, he handed it over to you. There was neither a frilly explanation nor a blooming blush on his handsome face. Instead, he had a sharp and clean approach.

"Here, this is for you."

Though not one to express his emotions so as to maintain an unreadable body language, you had picked up on a few of his habits. He seemed eager. It was charming to think about how he grew more casual and open around you. To the untrained eye, one may think he wasn't fond of you at all, but you knew. That realization was enough to keep you on your toes.

One previous evening, the glimmering stars and bygone moon sisters breathlessly spoke of your future. It was challenging to decipher, but you stuck to your beliefs that the stars don't lie, and you were greatly rewarded.

The confirming chill that the divine gales of the night brought to you all spoke of the same fortune.

"There is a man that treasures every bit of you."

Despite sounding like good tidings, a hole in your stomach grew.

It started off as a tiny sapling. You suspected it to be anxiety for upcoming deadlines or the usual fatigue from nights spent stargazing. Something that could easily be brushed off. Yet branches and roots ravaged and wrapped around your organs as you heard the consistent sound of soil crunching beneath one's feet. Be it dawn or dusk, such dreadful mirages pained your spirit.

But with Alhaitham, it stopped. Perhaps it was a side effect of being in love. Being so on edge around him had taken a toll on you. Is this why the Sages warn of pursuing things such as love? You couldn't help but wonder.

Nevertheless, it wasn't an appropriate time to have your heads in the clouds.

You quickly tore off the patterned wrapping paper and grinned. It was exactly what you needed: more jasmine-scented perfume! Just the glass bottle itself was astonishingly exquisite, encrusted with jewels and detailed with gold. You could tell it was expensive.

"I can't take this. This must've cost you a fortune! I really can't accept this. Though I did just run out of mine… You should return it and use the money for something more useful. Besides, I'm fine with using the cheaper one I usually purchase!"

Returning the bottle to the small bag, you tried to give it back to the man standing before you.

Alhaitham hated the way you acted. This was just a quick gift he purchased at the Grand Bazaar. It was nothing. He knew you had run out of your usual exactly the day prior. Alhaitham simply saw an opportunity and decided to strike. Honestly, he only studies what interests him. You should know that by now. Why bother with the inessential?

"Don't be ridiculous.” His eyes narrowed oh-so-slightly. “It was just something I thought you might like. Anyway, keep it. I have no need for such things."

Still lacking confidence, you treaded carefully, "Well…If you say so. I will treasure it by wearing it every day! Thank you, Alhaitham." Inspecting the perfume bottle again, you couldn't help but smile. "It's almost like a miracle that you gifted me this because I just ran out of my usual. I really want to thank you somehow…."

Bullseye.

"Hmm… Is that so? Never mind, we will get to that later." He placed his hand underneath your chin and pulled your face from side to side to inspect you. "You haven't been sleeping well, have you? Your eyebags are much more prominent."

Twinges of insecurity rang through your bones as he examined your appearance. I suppose that's how he shows he cares? Looking down, you played with the strings of the gift bag and tried to awkwardly collect yourself. "Lack of sleep is common for my studies, but I have been a bit more jumpy than usual when I rest, that's all. Perhaps you were right back then…Too much sugar." Your voice grew weaker. "It's nothing, really."

"If it's ‘nothing’ as you claim it to be, then you wouldn't be so distressed. Come on, spit it out." There was no need to sugarcoat things. Many of his former classmates gossip that he is a ruthless robot, but he doesn't mind such statements. To him, it's better to clear things away than regret it later.

Not wanting to look into his eyes, you glanced at the other students in the Akademiya mingling with their like-minded colleagues and friends. Dejectedly, you scratched the back of your neck, then quickly gestured to the door with your head. "Let's talk outside, shall we?"

Sitting under a pavilion, you apologized for the sudden request to head outdoors. Alhaitham remained unfazed. Rigid and cold, silently awaiting a reply.

First, you breathed in, then shakily exhaled before speaking, "Okay, then. I think someone is stalking me. I can't give you a proper explanation as to why, but I just know. It really has left me so scared. I won't lie, the feeling disappears when I'm with you...." With a heated face, you quickly looked to Alhaitham for validation as you poured out your feelings. "But, um, of course! You are an extremely accomplished individual. Anybody would feel better with you since you're the Scribe, after all."

He scoffed, "I think Kaveh would beg to differ about your last statement."

You laughed.

It was simply perfect. He just wanted to caress your face and tell you how good you were being for him. Yes, so good. So naive.

"Let's do an experiment. Why don't you stay at my place for a day or two and see what happens?" He couldn't help but smirk at how you shrunk under his all-knowing stare. "If you don't want to, I can think of another solution. However, I believe we have become quite close, and I'm sure you would enjoy it. Besides, Kaveh is out for a bit. But in the end, it's your choice, of course."

"Well, if you insist…." You took out the perfume bottle and daintily sprayed it on your neck and wrists; you enjoyed how his keen eyes soaked you in. "Thank you for being so kind. You know me so well, Alhaitham."

"Yes, I really do."

___

In Sumeru City, when it rains, it pours.

Streets flood with incinerating kisses and sensual touches intertwined with a rich, floral fragrance.

To many, Alhaitham is known as a lunatic. Such a name fits the man whose mind was devoured by jasmine perfume.

He couldn't get enough.

Every inch of you, he had to learn about. He needed to properly store and encode such mesmerizing information into the recesses of his gluttonous mind.

That intoxicating perfume permeated Alhaitham’s room and desperately held onto disheveled sheets. It was akin to the incense that scholars use to clear their minds and focus their bodies to become one with Irminsul. Yes, it was just like that.

You couldn't help but feel so safe in his arms. The stars really do never lie.

He loved every bit of you.

___

Sunlight peeked through translucent cotton curtains and illuminated the room.

Alhaitham kissed your forehead and greeted you with a simple "Good morning" as you moved his hair from his face and took in his features. The intense perfume still persistently laced through his sheets.

The domesticity of it all, from changing together to preparing breakfast, swelled your heart. It had been quite a while since you were last able to unwind like this.

Alhaitham quickly took notice of your lax movements. Good. You were enjoying yourself as planned. By the time he's done, you won't be able to tell the difference between an innocent Sumeru Rose and a vicious Venus Flytrap.

He looked you up and down again. "How do you feel? Did you sleep okay?"

"Yes, I haven't felt this relaxed for a while. Ever since I joined my Darshan, sleep has become a luxury. It was especially bad when I was first learning the basics because I would have to stay up all night long to study the stars and keep up with other research. At one point, I developed severe insomnia, but I’m fine now. Anyway… Yes, I did sleep well. This is the first time I’ve felt safe in a long while. Thank you, Alhaitham."

He nodded and spoke, "That's good. If we are going to continue this relationship, then maybe in the future we can discuss more complex matters, such as living together more permanently."

Your eyes widened as you took in his statement, but you soon giggled, “A little hasty, aren’t we, Alhaitham?” You poked fun at him. “What about poor Mister Kaveh?”

He rolled his eyes at your teasing.

Then he shrugged and bluntly defended himself, "It's only rational to think about these things, especially with your situation. Besides, I'm only putting them on the table—"

There was a knock at his door.

He noticed your jaw tighten in fear. Alhaitham pulled the strings of the puppet and played along with you. He muttered into your ear to hide from the front door's view just in case.

The Scribe loved the way you obediently followed his orders and trusted so wholeheartedly everything that he said.

When he opened the door, he didn't expect to be greeted by the Grand Sage Azar's assistant: Setaria.

She told him how the Akademiya lost a knowledge capsule about the divine and how the Grand Sage wished for him to gather information on a certain blonde traveler.

A divine knowledge capsule and a heroic traveler from afar. How interesting.

He crossed his arms and unceremoniously spoke, "I'll start my assignment soon." With that, he nodded, closed the door, and went silent again. Annoyance ran through his veins as he was pulled along into the Grand Sage's plot. A peaceful life as the Scribe was all he desired. Was it really that hard for the Akademiya to provide that?

Turning around, the reserved man called for you. Your name rolled off his tongue too well, as if he was made to be the sole person on this forsaken continent to cherish and pronounce it. You carefully popped your head out from behind his bedroom door, the corners of your kissable lips turned down, forming a slight frown.

"Is it all good?"

"Yes, it was just someone from the Akademiya for work. Speaking of, I have a little surprise for us." Alhaitham seemed to look right through you. "Do you want to hear it?" There was an excitement bubbling deep inside of him. Your stomach began to ache as he cloaked himself in mystery.

You felt those hawk eyes analyze you again. "Uh, sure?"

"How would you feel about going to Port Ormos for some academic research?"

___

Alhaitham convinced you that it would help your situation. You could see if that uneasy feeling would follow you on your journey to the port.

While the actual job itself is mundane and uneventful, as the Scribe, he receives many benefits. One was being sponsored by the Akademiya to stay in an upscale hotel with many amenities.

Your shared suite had a lovely balcony with a nice view of the sea. Breathing in the refreshing salty air on a balmy day was energizing after being cooped up in such a stifling city of arrogant wisdom. Mere fool's gold.

"If you want to go and explore, I would advise you to remain within the hotel grounds or near places that are guarded or populated in case anything were to happen.

You turned to him. "Thank you for your concern, but I will just stay here. It's a nice room. I'll enjoy the breeze and finish up my papers on the balcony. Perhaps in your free time, we can do something together?"

He thought about it for a second. "I'll see."

You deflated a bit. "Well, when do you think you'll come back?"

"Not anytime soon."

"Oh..."

"Anyway, I should be leaving now." Alhaitham pecked your cheek before heading out.

After unpacking, you began writing rough ideas for your ongoing thesis in your worn-out leather journal. As the clock kept ticking and the hours passed, you grew bored. Small sketches of constellations were sloppily drawn on the side with little notes as you tried to jot down as much information as possible. Becoming distracted, you began to doodle Alhaitham's constellation: Vultur Volans. You wanted to unveil so much more about him. You wanted the stars to guide you in your journey.

Yet just as you were about to finish your little doodle, your pen ran out of ink.

You scribbled a few lines and circles to test it out one last time before throwing it in a nearby trash bin. It was nothing. A simple delay.

Before going inside, you closed your leather journal and placed it on top of the stack of scrap papers so they wouldn't fly away. Going to your side of the bed, you opened your Adhigama wood nightstand and pulled out a few spare pens. However, when you sat down and attempted to use them, they didn't work. It was fine. You just happened to bring a bad batch. That was all.

You knew Alhaitham brought a brand new set with him. It was still in his luggage, though... He was in such a hurry to start his job here in Port Ormos that he had no time to unpack. You always admired his diligence; it's what got him so far so quickly. He was your age, but you were still far behind. Though you couldn't blame him for tuning the world out and focusing just on his studies, he lost so much at such a young age. He was brave to keep looking towards the future despite his parents being gone. Even if he would say, "It was just the most rational thing to do."

Alhaitham is a man with principles rooted in logic. He would understand why you were rummaging through his things. It wasn't an invasion of privacy! You two were a couple now; albeit new, the love was evident already.

You were just going to borrow his pens, anyway.

As you unlocked his luggage and looked for his case of supplies, you stumbled upon two similar containers in appearance and weight. Ugh! Which one was it? I suppose I'll just have to open them both…

Moving your hand towards the zipper, you noticed your hand shake. Perhaps it was just getting cold. You had left the glass balcony door open, only closing the screen. The soft sound of the breeze and smell of sea salt slithered up your spine, invading your ear canals and nostrils.

You placed your fingers on the zipper of the bag on the left. The sound of it unzipping was akin to the rustles of leaves and branches in a dark rainforest. What you found inside was a knowledge capsule.

The pens were in the other bag.

That was all. Alhaitham works under the Grand Sage. Of course you were bound to find certain items only he should be privy to.

Yet why was it calling you like the irresistible knowledge that spills from the ivory, archaic branches of Irminsul? It was most likely empty, anyway, waiting to be filled with the information he would discover in the bustling Port Ormos. Why was the hollow, ravaging feeling in your stomach and heart returning to once again suffocate your organs and dry up your blood into grains of sand?

Your journal was waiting for you. Opening the other bag, you got what you wanted.

His pens.

That was what you came for.

However, the sharp pains and shivers ringing through your body reeled you into the infested desert and the pouring rainforest. A peek wouldn't hurt. Alhaitham would understand, right? He was the one that brought you here, after all, to keep an eye out for your situation.

Yes, he's a man who knows his morals. Besides, how would he even know? It would be alright. He said himself that he wouldn't be coming anytime soon.

As you gripped the green and gold knowledge capsule pulsing and flowing with information, you felt so conflicted. The unease was growing, yet you felt so sure that you were meant to do this. Opposing thoughts contrasted each other like fields of flowers flourishing amidst dunes of lifeless sand. It truly nauseated you.

After establishing a connection with it, you felt it. A flash of memories entered into the recesses of your mind. As if two consciousness were merged together to form one single entity, you felt vines and tendrils weaving through your anatomy. Nearly every bit of knowledge you gained was something you already had experienced. Yet it was from a different perspective. Your face, your body, your studies, your smiles, your slumber, your pens, even your perfume.

It was all there, only from a different angle.

For so long, you saw life from the eyes of a feeble mouse. Now, you could see what it was like to view the world from the perspective of a hungry vulture ready to gobble up its prey. You dropped the canned knowledge. You barely heard the thud it made with the flooring, as it was drowned out by all of the thoughts racing through your mind.

Your eyes scattered to the open glass door with the closed screen. The breeze and saltiness of the sea were still there.

It felt so far.

Running to the balcony, you rushed to lock the glass door and fumbled to close the cotton curtains.

"Didn't anyone teach you to clean up after yourself?"

Alhaitham's voice made everything cold. Sharply turning your head, you faced the man who both tormented your life and made it so beautiful. He came back so soon. Too soon.

"Once the Matra knows about this, you will go to prison, Alhaitham, for what you did to me!" Your hands were shaking as you bunched them into fists and furrowed your eyebrows. Tears were threatening to spill at any moment.

He merely crossed his arms. His precise, uptight composure never faltered. "You think the Matra will do anything to me? I'm the Scribe. The right hand of the Grand Sage." He stepped closer to you. “Did you know there once was a Rtawahist student who was so desperate for sleep that they went to Port Ormos and looked for knowledge capsules to help their studies and cure their insomnia? The Matra were never able to track down the culprit." Alhaitham walked closer to you. "However, I think today, that could change. The usage of canned knowledge to gain an advantage over one’s peers in the Akademiya is strictly against the rules." He was always one step ahead of you.

"Is it not?"

Cupping your face and forcing you to look at his darkening eyes, he stared into you, drinking up the way you brimmed with fear. Just how he liked it. Everything was falling into place as calculated. He whispered into your ear. "Think of this as the 'thank you' you said you would give me that day."

Alhaitham embraced you tightly, taking in the exquisite jasmine perfume he gifted you. Trembling in his arms, you felt so small and helpless. Dreams shattered as you thought of everything that you had learned. The stars and wise moon didn't lie to you that night. There's a man who loves you with all his being. There's a man who knows everything about you.

Seeking what is forbidden will always be the downfall of humanity.

Perhaps ignorance truly is bliss.

Thank you so much for reading!!!

(⺣◡⺣)♡*

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sky-kiss · 7 months

Note

Hi love!

Okay so we all know I love your writing, especially for Raphael.

How about a scenario where Tav is in mortal peril and Korilla is NOT around/able to bail them out. Raphael has to do it himself. Well, he doesn't "have" to, but he will.

_________

A/N: MY QUEEN. I will do my best. Think this is the first time I've done a Tav who is DOWN BAD (in more ways than one).

_________

Korilla never failed him.

It made it all the more shocking when the dwarf appeared at his side, stinking of sweat and brimstone. Her robe, ever flattering, was torn at the shoulder, and the slightly sweet, slightly sick, stink of burnt flesh filled the Devil’s Den. He reached out a hand on instinct, stabilizing her swaying form. The deal he’d been brokering fell by the wayside. A sinking feeling settled in his chest, all too familiar. His carefully laid plans might come apart at the seams. He felt invisible hands pulling at his stitches.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Korilla shook her head. “Your project…your mouse.” She winced. “Got in over her pretty head.” His warlock squeezed his wrist, “Raphael, I couldn’t…” She’d failed to protect his asset. “I kept them off her, but…”

The weight, curling, twisting; fate was determined to spite him again. And beneath that, more insidious, a second thought. Rage. Something had dared to touch her; something had maimed his pet.

The cambion bowed to his guests, lips pursed. “My associate here, lovely as she is, shall have to entertain you for a moment. Beg pardon, my dears.”

Raphael snapped his fingers.

_________

Pain blossomed through her side. Tav staggered back a step, bringing her weapon up to intercept the blow. The blade doesn’t break the skin; she managed to stop that much. The impact…she’s less fortunate. Her muscles screamed, something tearing in her shoulder.

She’d been stupid. Stupid and shortsighted…

All she’d wanted was a moment's peace. Tav had slipped from the party’s shared room at the Elfsong, determined to watch the sunset in silence. As dearly as she loved her friends, they could be loud and opinionated. After months on the road, with no privacy or distance, she figured she’d earned that much.

Bhaal’s cultists were waiting. If it’d only been a handful, she could have handled herself. It’d been more, so many more. An inane thought chased through her head as she danced out of the way of another strike: how many changelings were left in Baldur’s Gate? How many Bhaal cultists did Orin have? It seemed excessive.

Dozens. There were dozens of the damned creatures. For every cultist she killed, another three seemed to arise, like some hellish parody of the hydra. Tav was tired. One of them moved behind her, knife flashing in the dying light. Fresh pain as the blade tore through the muscles in her calf. She screamed. No, no, no, she had to keep moving. They couldn’t hobble her; she couldn’t…

“How dare you.”

She barely recognized the voice. She was aware of his heat before anything else; the cambion appeared beside her in a wash of flame, catching her attacker by the throat. Panic flashed across the changeling’s face, the briefest hint of emotion before Raphael’s claws tightened their hold. A warm spray of blood coated her face as he tore its throat free, leaving it choking through the ruin of flesh.

“Insolent creatures! You would touch what is mine?”

They tripped back, almost as one. Tav stared up at her savior, confused, vision swimming. The cambion, red, so red, fire and blood, his right-wing curled around her shoulders. Cherries and sulfur fill her nostrils, too sweet for the night air. Too soft in the face of his fury. Raphael snapped his fingers, and the air around them seemingly combusted. Hellfire consumed her would-be killers. Tendrils of shadow and flame consumed every ounce of flesh and bone, leaving nothing but a black mark on the streets.

She blinked, staring up at him. Raphael’s eyes continued to blaze, his jaw set. He dusted a nonexistent speck of dust from his sleeve, lips curling in a sneer. “Strange, I expected the god of murder to employ hardier thralls.”

Tav swallowed. Her throat burned. “Stealthy.”

“Hmm?”

She tried again, struggling to her feet. Raphael caught her elbow. Tav tried to ignore the press of his claws, itching, so full of potential, and the heat of his skin. It had to be the blood loss. His eyes glowed in the half-light. “Orin isn’t looking for hardy. They just need to be quick enough, quiet enough, to catch their victims off guard.” She frowned. “Tonight, they were.”

“Yes.” The lowness of his voice chased along her nerves like a caress. “Are you bold or stupid, pet? The city wants you dead, and here you are.” He motioned to the darkness surrounding them, the alley nearly bereft of light. "A little mouse, alone in the dark."

She scoffed. “I needed…I wanted a moment to myself. Is that too much to ask?” His gaze flicked to the scorched flagstones, brow arched. Tav shook her head. “Regardless, thank you. It…” she chewed the inside of her cheek. “Thank you. For saving me.”

“I sold myself as such, did I not? A friend and savior?”

Tav smiled. “Truth be told, I didn’t believe you.”

“And you’re more clever for it, sweetling.”

Color flared in her cheeks. He was too close for this. Too close, too sweet-smelling, too handsome, and too much. The air in her lungs felt overheated and stagnant by comparison. The blood loss, undoubtedly. Tav chewed her lower lip. “Did you…Raphael, before the…did you call me yours?”

His eyes narrowed. “Careful, pet.” It’s an answer in itself. Raphael extended his free hand to her. “Come. The devil shall return his erstwhile heroine to her companions.”

“I can make it back on my own.”

The severity of his expression left no room for argument. “No, you’ve lost the benefit of the doubt. I shall leave you safely in your bed. Not before.”

She hated the flare of heat in her belly. Raphael's hand settled at the small of her back, wings curling more closely as he whispered the incantation to return them to her room. Weak as it may be, she wrapped her arms around him.

The devil said nothing. But he bent, pressed nearer. Solid and strong, smelling of cherries and fire. Some part of her wondered what he would do if she kissed him.

Tav was saved from any potential embarrassment. Raphael left her at her bedside, bowing, smirking as if he’d followed the line of her thoughts. The damned creature took her left hand and kissed her knuckles.

And then he was gone in a swirl of fire and ash.

#raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #asks #my writing #love you friend #hope you like this #raph: i'm protecting my assets #Tav: I want to kiss him on his stupid sexy mouth

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chaoticgoblindev · 7 months

Text

The Pollen Dilemma

Pairing: Leona x Fem!Reader

Pronouns used: She/Her

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, smut, dedagration, praise, p in v, cussing, unprotected!sex, fem!reader, f!ngering, oral!giving, the reader is called "yuu".

Summary: With the ADeuce Duo and Grim, assignments are sure to go wrong. This time around, you earned a memorable encounter with a grumpy lion man.

A/N: based on a request, hope you enjoy🫶

Leona was pissed.

And no, it wasn't because his nap was ruined, it wasn't from being pestered by teachers, it wasn't even because of his family. The reason for his foul mood was simple and complex…

You. His herbivore. His bunny.

Everything began with a science project with the ADeuce Duo and Grim. Things were fine until they weren’t, on top of having to clean and help restore the alchemy lab to its former state, you now had to redo the assignment from scratch and within the day. It seemed Crewel was angrier than usual this time around. (but who could blame him when his pups always cause trouble.)

It fell to you, once again, to make sure everything was done correctly. If you were to be honest with yourself for once, it was exhausting. Cleaning the alchemy lab had taken a good 2 hours even with multiple people, 2 of which attempted to slack off.

“Okay, now that everything is clean… We should start doing our project.” You sighed wearily and began to turn to face the designated cauldron that Deuce conveniently summoned.

Ace and Grim were sitting and slouching across the table and watched as you began gathering the required ingredients.

“Come on, can’t we have a small break?” The ginger groaned as he began to spin his magic pen around. Grim added onto that with a whiny agreement which only added to your foul mood.

Deuce’s eyes flicked between the slouchers and his stressed friend. “Come on, the quicker we get this done the sooner we can relax. It’s our fault we are here anyway.” His attempt to ease the stress off your back by reminding his friends had made you smile faintly. Deuce was always intuitive and emotionally like that, even if he was just a tad delayed in getting the big picture. You nodded to him with thanks, something he mimicked.

The project was going smoothly again, the ingredients were added correctly, and the heating temperature was maintained perfectly. In a way, it reminds you of cooking. Eventually, it came down to the final stretch, adding pollen from a mystical flower said to have great regenerable abilities. The trick was having to add the mixture consistently and slowly at a set boiling temperature. Easy enough right? Wrong.

“Wait Grim don’t, that's the wrong side of the lid!” You shrieked, seeing the container pointed down at the cauldron on an open spout rather than a sprinkle. Grim had yanked back the pollen but it was too late, a big chunk of the flower dust fell into the cauldron. Seeing how this could go wrong from previous events, you ran towards Grim, grabbing him by the collar and tossing him to Ace. Ace caught him, eye widening seeing the cauldron bubbling and sparking.

“Get down!” Someone yelled as you pushed your friend to the ground and shielded them, your back facing the cauldron.

Poof!

Turning around you saw that yellow dust had exploded and landed in the areas close to the cauldron. The cleanup didn’t look like it would be too bad. But the project surely had to be redone. Again.

“DAMMIT GRIM!” You bellowed, the stress rage finally snapping. You know it wasn’t his fault, it was an accident sure, but that didn’t stop you from taking it out on your friends. “How is it so damn hard for y’all to just complete one lesson without screwing it up!”

Grim looked dejected, his ears pinned and eyes wide which made Ace step in. “Woah! Prefect, it was an accident so chill out. We will just redo it and be extra careful this time, no need to yell.”

“We wouldn’t have to redo it if y’all would stop being so careless. Just get out and go.” You seethed, crossing your arms, “I will complete the project myself, and we will all get the same credit. Just. Go.”

Deuce was quiet, and began ushering the other two out of the room. He at least understood your anger but it didn’t stop him from feeling a bit hurt at your harsh words.

In the silence of the lab, you sunk to your knees with a frustrated groan. You would apologize later, but as of now, you had to clean up and redo the project. When you grabbed the broom from the nearby closet, you noticed some of the pollen mixture had landed on your sleeve. On closer examination, you noticed it trailed all across your lab coat and your whole backside.

“Fucking MARVELOUS.” Your biting sarcasm echoed around your lone figure as you yanked the lab coat off.

It had been 10 minutes when the mess was cleaned up and the ingredients were all lined up by the order they went in. The footsteps of someone grabbed your attention, and without turning to look at who it was you just assumed it was one of your friends. “Didn’t I say to leave? I said I would handle this.”

“Ahh... That explains it then.” The voice was too deep and rich for it to be the others, and even without turning, you knew who it was. Spinning around you saw Leona leaning against the doorway, his eyes seemed dilated compared to their usual slits which had thrown you off for a second.

“Explains what exactly?” You huffed, not ready for the teasing comments of your crush.

“Why your buddies seemed to be walking to the mirror chamber like scolded dogs. Now it makes sense why…” His eyes lingered on your curves before he met your eye contact. “What happened?”

You sat on the nearby desk and rubbed your eyes. “Healing flower pollen potion went wrong not once, but twice. It got all over me.”

“I know. I can smell it, I mean.” Leona cleared his throat and shifted his weight. “Do you... Need help?” He offered, which made your eyebrow raise. It wasn’t like him to make more work for him. Though when you attempted to comment he added with a sleazy smirk, “Ya just look stressed and what kind of housewarden would I be if I didn’t help out my freshman?”

“We’re nearly the same age.” You deadpanned which he only smirked at and walked past you towards the cauldron. His posture and movements seemed tense, maybe the smell of the pollen was causing his senses to be overwhelmed. “You don’t have to help if the smell is too strong, I can handle it.” You grabbed his arm to stop him but he let out a low chuff when your fingers grazed his skin which made you pull back.

“It’s… fine. Let’s just get it over with then.” Leona quickly lit the fire under the cauldron with a wave of his pen and began to silently add the ingredients. He barely let you help or get near to the cauldron, the help was appreciated but at the same time, it felt like he thought you would mess up.

“I can do it, you know?” You sighed. His ears twitched and he glanced at you then focused on the potion again. This was just confusing, he was confusing, just wasn’t acting like himself and seemed more jumpy. His voice cut you off just as you were going to ask him if he was fine.

“What exactly happened, Yuu?” Leona muttered, the tone of his almost seemed angry like he was holding himself back.

“Grim accidentally dropped a big chunk of the pollen at once.” You answered which caused Leona to pinch his brow and whisper something. “...Why?”

“Well, that explains the aroma. As soon as we are done here, you are going to Ramshackle and taking a long shower.” Leona replies as he finishes up the potion, this time sprinkling the pollen in controlled consistent amounts.

“What? Why? Does it smell that bad?” You took a whiff of your clothes yet nothing smelled strange, if anything the scent was sweet.

Leoma seemed to groan and leaned his head back. “Just- Don’t be a brat. Be a good girl and listen for once, ya?” His eyes dilated again as he finally faced you to hand over the potion. Now that you could see his full figure it seemed that he looked flushed in the face and panting. Maybe he was sick? However long you stared at him with a confused glower was a moment too long for his temper. “For fucks sake,” taking a few short steps towards you and forcing the bottle into your hands, a low growl formed in his throat, “Please, Bunny. Go straight to your dorm and wash that scent off you.” Leona disappeared past you, yet again cutting you off from speaking.

What the fuck just happened?

—

Of course, you wished you had listened to Leona but in your defense, he never warned you what was so bad about whatever substance was on you. By the time you finally finished filling out the lab part of the assignment, it was nearly time for the deadline that Crewel set! You had to rush across campus to Crewel’s home class to deliver the potion. After explaining that you had sent your friends to their dorms to respect curfew he just nodded and sent you on your way.

You had been crossing the courtyard when you heard a few hushed voices around a corner. Upon squinting and getting closer you realized it was some Savanaclaw students.

“Wonder why Housewarden was acting like that today?” One of them huffed.

“I Know. Odd enough he showed up for Spelldrive practice but then he actually started to play. He was acting strange for sure.” The other validated your own experience.

“I feel like I am gonna be sore for weeks, maybe the Housewarden just needed to blow off steam or something?” The third groaned, rolling his shoulders.

“Wait, do you guys smell that?” The first one seemed to almost purr, his eyes dilating much like Leona’s did.

Damn beastman’s sense of smell.

Something wasn’t sitting right with you, like your gut instincts were kicking in. You quickly exited the area and began rushing back to the dorm with a brisk walking pace. After listening to the conversation you decided to visit Leona. I mean he had to explain what was going on.

Entering the mirror of Savanaclaw you were welcomed by the dusky arid landscape. In its own dried-up aesthetic, it was quite beautiful. Crossing the familiar tiered building, you noticed the wandering eyes of a few students. They all seemed to grow stiff, twitchy, almost agitated. A few of them even began to walk closer towards you. You quickly headed to Leona’s room, getting the feeling that the beastmen were not being their usual territorial selves. When you got to the door of Leona’s room it swung open and you were pulled inside.

“What the hell did I tell you, Bunny?” He growled, slamming your body into the door and caging you against it. Getting a good look at him, he looked downright sick or like he had been fighting someone.

“What’s going on?” Was all you could muster. He laughed darkly as he inched closer to you, though his muscles tightened and he pushed away from you. His eyes darted to the wood door you leaned against, another growl and he was back to dragging you away. He shoved you towards the bed with a restrained roughness.

“Why didn’t you listen to me like I said?” He covered his eyes with a hand and let out a groan of annoyance.

“I didn’t have time! When I finally finished the lab portion of the assignment it was nearly Crewel’s due date so I had to rush to his class.” You defended, gesticulating to emphasize your point.

Leona took a long breathy sigh and then pivoted to turn away from you. “That doesn’t explain why you came here.” He hissed.

What the hell was his deal? Or anyone’s for that matter. “I heard some students saying you were acting weird after you helped me. I was worried- what the hell is going on Leona?”

The beastman inhaled slowly before walking towards his couch and leaning on the back of it, when he faced you again it was clear he was thinking of what to say. After a few heavy moments of silence, he slowly approached the topic. “The potion mishap didn’t just explode but created another substance altogether. Heavy amounts of the pollen can… be used as a... Aphrodisiac.” By the end of his sentence, he pinched the bridge of his nose and shifted his legs.

Oh.

OH.

“Well, fuck. So the beastmen?” You started then he nodded, finishing the thought for you.

“More sensitive to the smell than others. Which is why I told you to get it off you.” Leona peaked through his fingers to gaze at you, his tail swished and thumped against the couch in a steady rhythm. The explanation certainly explained things, but now you were in the den of the king of beasts. “Why didn’t you just tell me earlier..?”

“I was trying to be respectful. I didn’t want ya to be afraid or paranoid. In hindsight, it was foolish to not warn you. I'm sorry.” He crossed his arms and met your eyes with an apologetic emotion.

“Is that why you went to blow off steam at practice?” You questioned, and he nodded. Then a sort of courage washed over you. Leona certainly was charming in his own ways, and strongly misunderstood by the majority of people. Perhaps that's why you always found yourself orbiting around him, he was intoxicating. The next words out of your mouth were formed from the heat of the moment, you didn’t want to pass up a good opportunity to release tension for yourself either. “Why not just ask me? I certainly could give you a hand, you helped me after all.”

Leona’s head pivoted and he looked straight at you. “You ought to be very careful with what you say.” He shifted his weight and adjusted himself subtly.

Pushing off from the bed, you made a few steps towards him, each step making his tail thrash quicker. “I mean it, Leona. Let me help you.”

Suddenly you were back on the bed, back pressed against the sheets and Leona hovering over you. He pressed his knee between your thighs and then asked, “Do I have your consent?”

You nodded, parting your legs for him, he only shook his head and pinched your chin between his claws. “I need a verbal answer, Princess.” He cooed.

Damn. That’s hot. “Please, Leona. You have my consent. I want this.” Your voice came out quietly, enough so that he asked to repeat yourself, but slowly inched his knee between your legs within seconds. “Please-! Fuck me.”

“Good girl” Leona whispered, placing a kiss on your cheek, slowly his mouth trailed down your jaw to your neck where he began to nibble and suck on the soft skin there. He grunted and rolled his hips into yours, delighting in the way you gasped. “Such a dirty little Bunny.” He growled, nipping your neck once more before he pulled away. “Sit up.” He ordered, something you obeyed. When he began to tug at his belt your thighs clenched together. His movements were so intense that the belt made a cracking sound in the air. It made you flinch and wet at the same time, the fact that he wanted you, wanted this. Maybe it was just the pollen, or maybe all the bantering that convinced you of shared chemistry was in fact real.

Leona didn’t hesitate to tug down his jeans and boxers in one swift movement, his cock springing free and twitching desperately. Your eyes widened and he chuckled petting your head. “Might need more than just a hand dontcha think?” He smirked. Slowly the hand petting your head was firmer and guiding your lips to the tip of his cock. “Just tell me now and I’ll stop, okay? But- fuck… Once we start, I don’t think I can stop.” He groaned, looking down at you for any hesitation.

You looked up at him, keeping eye contact as you inched forward of your own accord to deliver a tiny lick to the slit of his cock. Leona’s chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, the green glint of his eyes signaling his pupils dilating again. “Go on then. Suck me off like the good slut you are.”

Giving another kitten lick to his tip, you slowly began to wet his dick with your mouth. The soft grunts and growls emitting from his throat only encouraged you to continue. Bobbing your head up and down on his length triggered your gag reflex a few times, soon enough you found a good rhythm. Anything you couldn’t fit down your throat you used both of your hands to stroke and fondle.

“Oh fuck! Fuck yeah, just like that. Oh by the seven…” He moaned, grabbing your head tightly and thrusting against your lips with his own brisk pace. It had you gripping his thighs and tearing up, he pulled completely back so you could gasp for air before he was back to fucking your mouth.

“Oh, shit baby! I am gonna cum.. Lemme cum in your throat ya? That okay?” He panted, holding still with a grunt. You gave him a thumbs up through your tears, which he purred at. Leona’s jaw went slack as he roared in pleasure, his hips thrusting and shuddering a few times as he spilled into your mouth.

Leona pulled back and looked down at you with a surprised expression when he saw your cheeks puffed up. “Good job little bunny, now swallow.” He purred, pressing his thumb to your lip as you obeyed his command. He bent down to capture your lips in a heated kiss, slowly pushing you down to the bed again. His canine nicked your bottom lip followed by his tongue, he prodded around before pushing into your mouth and savoring your taste mixed with his. Leona pulled back, the rest of his clothes were gone and you quickly realized yours were too. “Magic.” He answered your unspoken question and was back to kissing you.

You wrapped your legs around him, tugging him closer against your bare form. As you did this he grinded into your core, both of you gasping and panting as you traded kisses. Leona’s hand slowly cascaded down your side, squeezing the skin with a gentle touch. He slowly pulled back with a heavy gaze and shifted down to your legs. The loss of him left you whining which he quickly remedied with a long lick to your cunt.

“Please, don’t stop, please..” The words spilled from your lips with an eager cry. His eyes found yours and he didn’t look away as he delivered another lick right along your core. You parted your legs as an invitation for more, he gladly accepted and dove into your pussy. Leona pushed a finger into you and slowly began pumping in and out, his finger curling which caused you to moan. He ate you out like a starved man, the whacking of his tail against the bed sounded like music when mixed in with your moans. He added another finger, slowly working you open, then the third as he sucked on your clit. Your lips parted and back arched, hands gripping onto the sheets for salvation.

The loss of his contact made you cry and prop yourself on your elbows. “W-wait..” Your voice came out like a plea, your hands grabbing at his braid to tug him closer. His lips were wet with your slick, and his eyes narrowed on you with hunger. You were his prey, his herbivore, his bunny.

“Use your words, Princess.” He cooed, curling his fingers inside you. He was cocky and sure of himself and his abilities.

“Please.” You breathed, too fucked out and needy to say much else. Leona seemed satisfied and began to thrust his fingers into you again, his mouth and tongue working in tandem with his fingers. Your lower body bucked into his touch as you felt your core tighten. Even before you could say it, Leona knew you were close. “So close! Imma- Leona…” Your voice hitched as a white-hot shattering jolted up your spine into your mind. Your back arched as you came, your hands gripping his hair to ground yourself from ecstasy.

Leona crawled back over you again, pressing another hungry kiss to your lips. He guided his cock between your folds, collecting the mixture of your orgasm and his spit along his shaft. The soft growls that leave his mouth are in sync with his strokes, he grabs your waist and hip before slowly prodding and pushing all the way in. You winced and grabbed the sheets as he began to move his hips in gentle motions. “That’s it, such a pretty bunny. Doing so well for me.” He moaned. When you gave him a nod he began to pick up the pace of his thrusts.

“More.” You gasped, lifting your arms above your head to grip the material there. “Don’t hold back, give it to me.” You whispered, knowing well that he was holding back.

Leona smirked, his pupils dilating with lust and excitement. He began to move his hips faster, harder, more forcefully. His grip on your hip slid to your left leg and lifted it onto his shoulder, allowing him to reach the deepest parts of you. Your lips parted as you gasped and attempted to find oxygen again, the wind was knocked out of you as he rutted into you with abandon. Leona leaned down to kiss your neck, whispering along your skin, “Gonna fill you up nice and full… Mark you as mine.” He purred as you clenched around him in response. “Ya, you like that? Like being claimed? Don’t worry Bunny, no one will even try once they know you’re mine, and I, yours.”

The smile that sketched onto your features from his words was enough to edge him towards euphoria. Leona picked up the pace with a growl, your eyes shut as you focused on the feeling of him fucking you. The climax building in your lower gut had your back arching. Your eyes focused on the foreign weaving of a tapestry along his wall just as the familiar fire burned your core.

“L-Leona! Cumming.” You whimpered, tightening your hands into fists as you reached heaven.

“Fuck- me too.” He followed after you, his hips speeding up before stopping and quivering as his cum seeped deep into you. Leona held himself above you, his body shaky and eyes glossy with a hazy pleasure. He waited for a few moments before stepping away. He quickly returned with a clean towel and began to clean the slick of your cunt and body. He tossed it to the ground once he was done and pulled you into an embrace as he laid down.

The soft peck of his lips against your neck and his hand massaging your hips eased your mind into relaxation. “Do you need anything?” He whispered. You shook your head, already falling asleep. Leona smiled and nuzzled into your shoulder. He waited for you to fall asleep, and he knew then just how true his feelings had been. He whispered, pressing a kiss to your head. “Love ya, Princess.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst yuu #twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar #twst wonderland #twst smut #twistedwonderland #twisted wonderland smut #twst x reader #twst fanfic #leona kingscholar x reader #twst leona #leona twisted wonderland #leona smut

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cannebady · 1 month

Text

The worst thing by far about all the fuckin' fur was how hot it was when he'd get properly nervous. It was mostly annoying, Husk thought, because he never used to get this fuckin' nervous, but these days he feels like he sweats through his fur at least every other day.

It's a byproduct of exposure to Angel Dust, he thinks (and fuck is the spider aptly named). Initially, it was anger that got him heated, being subjected to the spider trampling on his painstakingly constructed boundaries, then it was the realization that under the performance, Anthony was a spitfire with a vulnerable streak a mile wide and legs even longer. In other words, Husk's fuckin type, both topside and in Hell.

Which brings him to now; sweating through his fuckin bowtie as he paces outside Angel's room, hands so damp that the fuckin' paper wrapped around the stupid bouquet that he couldn't not buy for a certain leggy demon was getting damp and who the fuck wanted to open their door to see a sweaty, anxious, drunk failure of an overlord handing them damp shitty flowers?

Probably not the prettiest guy Husk has ever laid eyes on. His best guy, even if only in his own head.

But he'd heard Angel and Vaggie talking about her plans for her anniversary with Charlie and how much Charlie loves getting flowers. Angel's eyes had sparked up a bit, mentioning that he used to bring those home for his mother and sister, back when he'd been alive, but hadn't ever received any.

Husk knew how to spot a weak spot, and Angel was projecting to anyone paying attention, "I'm a hopeless romantic that would burst into heart shaped confetti if someone gave me flowers" and the thought hadn't left Husk's mind since.

So on his way back to the hotel, when he'd spotted a white and blush bouquet that reminded him of fur he wanted to dig his claws into and-

Well.

So he bought the stupid fuckin' flowers and now he's being a big fuckin' coward again as he's still pacing and sweating and definitely not knocking on the door and saying, "You deserve only the best, baby", and handing the (sweaty, damp, probably embarrassing) bouquet to the guy he spends every waking moment thinking about.

It's not that he even expects anything to come of it. He has nothing to offer besides a well mixed drink and an ear to bend, so he hasn't got any expectations, he just thinks that maybe someone should make Angel feel a bit less like he exists only in service to others. And sure, maybe in his drunkest flights of fancy lately he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could be the kind of guy to get a gift like Angel and care for it. Care for him.

Stupid.

He should just leave the flowers against the door.

Yeah.

But as he drops them against the door, cringing at the sweaty paw stain against the soft pink paper, the door moves inward and there he is.

Nine feet of the most gorgeous man Husk's ever been so close to, ever been lucky enough to be close to, staring at him with wide eyes and fuck, he's gotta get out of here.

"I-" he starts, but his coward voices fucks off to parts unknown, leaving only his rapid breathing and the distant sounds of the Pride ring to fill the space.

"Heya Husky," Angel says, sounded a little breathless himself.

Don't think about that.

"What's all this?" he finishes and is staring right at Husk as he tries to figure out an explanation that doesn't turn him into a pathetic creep with a hopeless crush. Fuck he's too old for this.

"Saw 'em, thought you might like' em," he settles on. True, but vague.

Coward.

"Ya got me flowers, Whiskers?" Angel says, voice a bit high, tight. His eyes are blown wide, and his mouth is open a little, like he can't get enough air in and Husk understands because he stopped breathing himself the moment the door opened.

He doesn't respond right away. Husk's been a gambling man since before Hell. Maybe this is worth gambling in, because Angel looks about a second from collapsing in his own doorway and there are only so many things that could mean.

He stands, pressing the bouquet into Angel's second set of hands, damn the fuckin' sweat and anxiety. The only way forward is though and it's the only honest way to go.

"You deserve beautiful things, sweetheart." he says, channeling a man he once was, that had the right words and tone to make someone look his way, to make them feel seen.

Those mismatched eyes go huge and glassy, and Husk is about a quarter of the way to a panic attack before he's pulled into the tightest hug he's ever experienced.

"Ya can't say things like that and expect me not ta squeeze ya, Husky," Angel murmurs into his neck, sets of arms wrapping Husk up entirely, fingers dug into his fur (he hopes he isn't too sweaty, hopes he's nice to touch).

"You deserve to hear nice things too," he whispers, and his voice is low and strained, fuckin' obviously besotted.

He feels all those lanky limbs tremble a bit (oh fuckin', Christ his knees are weak, I did that, fuck), before he decides to give into his impulse to drag his claws through that fluffy hair that's always falling into Angel's (gorgeous, incomparable, hypnotizing) eyes.

"Husk," Angel nearly whines, breathing going a bit funny at that and Husk decides to roll the dice one last time.

"Fuck it. Can I kiss you, Legs?" he says, aiming for sexy and ending up closer to desperate.

There's a shit starting grin creeping across that beautiful face when he pulls back to wait for Angel's response.

"I dunno Husky, can you?" Angel snarks and oh fuck him (literally, figuratively, any fuckin' way).

"Brat," he breathes before he pulls down to align their mouths and oh fuckin' fuck that's good.

Angel's lips are syrupy soft and sweet, tasting of vanilla and peaches and all of the good things pieces of shit like Husk shouldn't get to taste. He makes a perfect huffing whine right into Husk's mouth and he has to pull back before he loses his composure entirely.

He wants Angel, wants to show him what it's like to have someone only aim to please him, and he will, he thinks. Just not yet.

He cups the side of Angel's face, giving him one last kiss before pulling back.

Angel's eyes are half lidded and he looks like every wet dream Husk's ever had. This isn't Angel Dust, the porn star. This is Anthony, and he's fuckin' perfect.

He reaches down and tangles his claws with one of Angel's hands, rubbing a thumb along a soft cheek bone.

"Have dinner with me," he says.

"Ya wanna have dinner," Angel says, "after a kiss like that?"

"I want to do a whole lot more," he replies because he knows Angel wants to hear it and, fuck it, he wants Angel to know it. "But I want to do this right. So, dinner tomorrow?"

Angel is looking at him like he's trying to solve a very difficult riddle. It goes on long enough that he wonders if he should apologize for overstepping. Fuck knows he's not in his right mind (how could he be, standing so close to Angel like this).

But then it's like the sun breaks through and he gets one of those rare, fuckin' stunning, smiles.

"Yeah, I'll have dinner with ya, kitten," he says, breathless and playful.

"Alright then, it's a date," he says, just so that Angel knows what he's offering (so he knows it's being accepted), "Wear something nice. I ain't takin' you to any kinda dive." Because he wants that to be clear too.

He can be a gentleman, when he's fucked to be.

"Oh," Angel says and he's blushing high up on his cheeks and Husk can fucking feel the heat of it.

He raises up onto his toes to kiss one of those honeyed blushes, before bestowing another kiss to the back of the hand he's still holding.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he says before forcing himself to walk away (lest he never leave at all).

He only looks back once he's ready to turn the corner down the hallway, and sees Angel brushing his cheek where Husk's lips had been and cradling the flowers to his chest as gently as he does with Fat Nuggets.

Maybe Husk's onto something here. Maybe caring for (loving, because that's what it is whether he's ready to name it or not) Angel is something he'll be good at. Fuck knows the spider makes it easy.

If he weren't a very jaded, former overlord he'd be skipping back to his room on a fuckin' cloud.

As it is, there's just a little pep in his step, like some of the weight of the world's been lifted from his shoulders.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #Husk #Husker #Angel dust #hazbin hotel angel dust #Huskerdust

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thexianzhoujade · 1 month

Text

— AMONG THE DATA | honkai star rail fanfiction. dan heng x gn!reader | fluff, mutual pining | requested work. ⋆ friends to lovers, mutual pining, probably an ooc dan heng, reader is shorter than dan heng, there's a lot of simping and people who aren't good with emotions

⋆ thank you for the request dear !! this was requested by @lovingluxury !!

Okay, but what about Dan Heng x librarian!reader (can be gn) who has opened a library in the express (with pompoms consent of course)? When he is not working on an entry for the archives, he’s with you in the library watching you work.

— DATA HAS BEEN UPLOADED! send an ask to join the taglist; specify genshin, honkai or both! @lovingluxury, @dumbificat, @starryshinyskies, @ryuryuryuyurboat, @ainescribe

pom pom had taken your request well when you'd boarded the astral express with caelus at your side, march 7th trailing behind with the biggest grin on her face. that's a well known sign that there's trouble on the horizon but how could pom pom not trust caelus after all he'd done? he was a reliable member of the nameless and now, after march and caelus presented their ideas to pom pom, so was you.

nonetheless you were a bookstore owner tired of the dreary life presented to you in a city with a lack of fellow book lovers. when they'd met you, caelus and march only had one person on their mind; dan heng. 'why not open a library on the express?' caelus had suggested, his hands clasping a dusty tome you'd acquired a few amber eras ago. march grinned, chiming up from where she was swatting a cloud of dust away from her face, 'yeah! you can travel with us and set up your store whether we stop!'

these were very good ideas, you admit and so you had shyly followed them onboard the astral express, grand and refined in all of its glory. it smells of rich coffee beans and well cared for plush velvet couches in the parlor car. with pom pom's consent, you officially had your own personal library onboard the astral express, travelling the cosmos with new friends at your side - and not to mention the small store you'd set up whenever the express docked somewhere, business was booming well.

the main reason behind caelus and march's plans was going too well to be true, almost. with your library and dan heng's data bank, the express was almost a walking embodiment of knowledge - if it had legs, that is but that's besides the point! the two of you were commonly found together, side by side with your heads deep in literature and data as if it was the last thing in the cosmos.

"do you prefer them categorised this way?" you voice chimes into the quiet of the library car, decorated by rows upon rows of books and tomes and the occasional plant that pom pom had insisted on. dan heng lifts his head from the data he'd projected on the small circular table he sat at, admiring how you were testing new ways to organise your books upon his own opinion.

he liked being included that way, able to interject his opinion and you'd always take it so sweetly. he valued that as much as you valued his opinion, the feeling of being seen and appreciated. perhaps, he wonders if that's why he found himself drowning himself in your presence between stops; between the gruelling tasks that came with being a trailblazer. you were comforting, a safe place among the data.

realising he'd never responded to your question, he blinks and a crack of a smile forms on his face. you almost smile instantly at the sight as he speaks up, "what's next? colour coordinated?"

you shrug, a melodic laugh erupting from you as you turn back to your organising. dan heng relaxes, a sigh of relief coming from him as heat creeps up his neck, flushing his cheeks. by the aeons, what did you do to him? little did he know, the moment you turned away, your teeth tugged at your lower lip, unable to force back that lovesick grin as your hands idly dawdled with leather-bound books.

"maybe i can create a rainbow out of all the colours we store here," you comment in response after a few moments of recollecting yourself - dan heng doesn't miss how you use the word 'we' when referring to the library, "y'think pom pom would like that?"

we. dan heng's heart flutters, unsure when he'd suddenly 'adopted' this little library with you but he wasn't complaining, deciding to occupy himself as his hand swipes at the data, the hologram flicking to the next page of information on a planet far away. a hum of agreement rumbles from his chest and then the library falls back into a comfortable silence with only the faint phonograph from the parlor car to accompany your breathing.

maybe this is the opportunity to spill your feelings, you consider as you sneakily glance over at dan heng's concentrated form. the dark haired man's eyebrows furrow, creating small wrinkles on his forehead in thought and you wonder what he's thinking about. a shaking sigh escapes your parted lips as you clear your throat, about to speak up.

"can we talk-"

"-there's something i want to talk to you-"

the pair of you blink, staring at each other for a few moments as it comes to your realisation that you'd both uttered the intentions of starting a 'talk' at the same time, your words blurring over each other in nervous tones and bated breaths. dan heng smiles weakly, waving his hand to you.

"sorry, you first." he laughs awkwardly, leaning back in the chair he'd been perched on for hours now. your hands tremble as you try to keep yourself occupied, a battle with your nerves as you slide a thick book back onto the shelf in front of you.

"this is... going to sound really odd- and it's okay if you don't feel the same way or anything! i just think it'd.. be for the best if i just get it off my chest instead of bottling it up further-" you're rambling, an anxious mess that can barely breathe in between their words until dan heng cuts you off, his eyes sparkling in the overhead lights of the library car.

"are you... confessing to me?" he asks, holding his breath as his mind whirls for a moment. you pause, nodding in embarrassment. you're about to speak again when dan heng quickly continues, "i feel the same - i mean, that's what i wanted to talk about... too..."

he what? your thoughts are a jumbled mess, heat rushing through your every limb as you both stare at each other, processing the situation. oh aeons, you'd both gone to confess at the same time? among pages that hold secrets and hear all but never speak, among your own very special version of data compared to that of dan heng's data bank?

smiles creep onto both of your faces, you can't deny the lovesick feeling driving you as you take hesitant steps towards where he sits and dan heng rises to his feet, lanky cold hands finding your warm cheeks and cupping them so delicately as you stand before him. your breaths mingle, closer than perhaps either of you had expected when you both stepped into the library car that morning.

in the mix of breathing and trembling hands, your eyes gloss over each other's faces. they drink over the insecurities you love about the other, the soft appearance of their lips and the way their eyes shine in the harsh light. moments later, lips press together in a gentle kiss that say more than words could ever convey.

pom pom had taken your request well, yes. because they were onboard with caelus and march's convenient plotting. in their own defence, they claimed to have been merely trying to draw dan heng out of his room, away from his beloved data that he sleeps among. in the response to the library's opening, he would shuffle to your library whenever the silence of the data bank got a tad too loud, when it echoed in his ears and the past came back to creep into his mind.

you silenced it, your smile warm and inviting the moment he would slide open the car's door and step inside. you assumed he just wanted your presence, his eyes lingering on data about who-knows-what but at the end of the day, dan heng loved watching you work - he loved you.

now you were his, among the data and the books you both surrounded yourself in.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

#( sealed letters )#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#© thexianzhoujade #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #dan heng #dan heng x reader #hsr dan heng #dan heng fluff #hsr fluff

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partycatty · 3 months

Note

I can't get enough of young Johnny MK11! I love him, god!🥵 How do you like this topic for fanfic? Fem!reader put his jacket and glasses on his naked body, and took sexy selfies.😎❤️‍🔥 Johnny saw this aaand here I’m already giving way to your fantasy hehe~

Thank you in advance! I like the way you write! Well done💕

i'm not sure if i read it right ?? lmk, but i went with my interpretation

johnny cage > call me

johnny's out late working, as usual. you've had enough of waiting and decide to bait him into coming home early

warnings: PHONE SEX TEEHEE

notes: do you guys also like genuinely tweak out wishing he was real? he's so perfect? peak malewife? wishing u were [REDACTED] his [REDACTED] rn?

masterlist

• you were often left to your own devices when it came to living with johnny. he, after all, was a star constantly running around on new projects. any studio would be at his knees for just one contract. he was hollywood's richest man, and you were lucky to call him your boyfriend.

• sure, it had it's moments. the paps stealing upskirt shots from you wasn't ideal, neither was the bush stalking. but you could see past that. what was hardest was when johnny would be gone all through the night, dressed in that stupid ninja mime getup that you learned to loathe since it pulled him away more than his other works. does the world really need a ninja mime trilogy? yes, apparently.

• boredom overtook you, since browsing on your phone for eight hours was now becoming a horrible habit on your neck - and mental stability. you took to mopping the floors, tidying the countertops, dusting his awards. finally, you settled on your walk-in closet.

• it was spacious, big enough for you to each get a side. your side was always decently organized to your liking, but johnny's was... atrocious. jackets hung on one sleeve, some on the floor. the only thing that was neatly organized on his side was the giant rack of sunglasses. he always had a pair to match the outfit and occasion. he probably had about three pairs on him at work.

• as you tried to rearrange his clothing, his distinct, classy scent filled your nose, sticking to the inside of your nose and you couldn't help but feel heated. you missed him, him and his dick. you took a deep whiff of his iconic blue and purple jacket, the one he left at home knowing he'd have to get in costume anyway.

• you threw it over yourself, embracing your torso and spinning in the mirror. it fit him perfectly, but on you it was like a blanket. the sleeves sagged off of your arms and your midsection was swimming. his size was impressive, his form shaped like a greek god.

• you couldn't help yourself, the memories of him and scent turned you on. blame pheromones, dammit! but, you realized you could take advantage of this.

• throwing your shirt off, you donned the jacket again, wearing it like he does - chest exposed. a purple pair of sunglasses practically screamed your name from the rack and you put them on. you looked just like him...! no, not really.

• touching yourself in his clothes was not a new idea, but there certainly was a new idea blossoming in your head. you pulled your phone out and snapped a mirror selfie, trying to flex like he does but your muscles were muffled from the loose fabric.

• how's this for the next cagecon? you text johnny, attaching the photo. you didn't expect him to reply right away, considering he was at work. but before you could lock your phone for the moment, his name popped up within milliseconds.

• don't take me away from work, baby! johnny replies with a winking emoji.

• what if i want to? it's so lonely in your mansion, you reply with an angel emoji, sitting on the edge of your shared bed as you fight a grin. you angle the phone downward, capturing your bare chest. your nipples brush against the jacket, making them stick out through the front. johnny takes a moment to reply, but you feel your phone vibrate once, then twice, then three times.

• fuck, you're so hot in my clothes.

• i'm taking my break early. can't work with a boner.

• the third message was a short video of him palming himself through that stupid costume. the only thing you can thank that outfit for is how prominent it makes his bulge.

• phone sex through texts was also nothing new to you two, considering the distance. as your fingers sink under your panties, assuming that's where things will go before you get a fourth message.

• call me. please.

• you sit up straight, biting your lip. his desperation always got you going. you kicked your pants and panties aside.

• you send one last photo, your body spread out on the bed in his clothes. your hand conceals your dripping pussy playfully.

• why should i? you shoot the message out, giggling at your own words.

• johnny doesn't even reply, he opens your message and calls you. you eagerly accept his call. his voice is echoey and rough. you realize he's hiding in the bathroom. his breathing is heavy.

• "are you proud of yourself?" he asks in a low rumble, trying to stay quiet but his flustered huffing makes his voice whiny. "look at what you did."

• he sends a photo. his cock is eager and out, and you see a teardrop of precum on his tip. you happily exchange that photo for another one, a short video of you gingerly touching yourself. he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

• "i couldn't wait til i'd get home," he admits, and you hear the slick sounds of him jerking off. "i want to, i want to come home and fuck you like that, but i'm here for another two hours."

• "you couldn't have waited?" you ask in disbelief, circling small loops on your aching clit.

• "no." johnny's reply sounded so sure of himself, so convinced in his words. he was as firm as he would've been if you asked him if he killed someone. he knew this to be a fact, he could not wait. "i can't help it, sweetheart. you're just so... god."

• his breaths get heavier and needier, you can sense he's speeding up on himself. you try to match what you assume is his pace, one that he confirms through another video. he held the phone below his dick, giving you a delicious view of his abs and bobbing adam's apple as he swallowed hungrily.

• his arms were painted white, but his hands were his usual flesh tone since he wore gloves for the costume. even still, his veins were incredibly prominent and really helping you reach your climax.

• "we gotta make this quick, baby," he grumbles into the phone, muffling his moans through bitten lips. you're a little louder due to your privacy, much to his delight. "people'll start looking for me."

• "johnny," you whimper out, back arching up off of the bed. "i'm already close." through your haze, you get a video of you masturbating wildly, the jacket now sliding down to your sides and fully revealing your tits as you fuck yourself. "i-i need you, i need you so bad-"

• "i know, baby," he breathlessly replies, straining himself to avoid moaning out your name and attracting attention. "let me hear how badly you need me."

• you could only spew out utter nonsense at this point as your orgasm is dangerously close. he seems to get the memo, though, and gives you permission to cum with him. your needy cries and his muffled grunts make a perfect chorus that you only wish were in person.

• when your breathing slows, as does his, you hear him chuckle to himself. a new message appears in your chat.

• his weeping dick was cradled in his palm, as was a entire handful of semen dripping down his fingers. he wanted to show you just how hard you made him cum from phone sex alone.

• "round one was now," he mumbles as you hear him tear a piece of toilet paper to wipe his hand. "round two is when i get home. you gonna be ready for it, princess?"

• the phone rests on your bare, damp chest as you fixate on the ceiling. you take the sunglasses off and wipe your face with a smile.

• "i'm always ready," you reply with a giggle.

• "that's my girl. see you in two hours. i love you." and with that, he hangs up, leaving you a naked, sweaty mess that's only concealed in his jacket.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage smut #mortal kombat smut #mk11 #mortal kombat 11 x reader #mortal kombat 11 #johnny cage mk11 #marley writes ☆

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witchy-scribblings · 9 months

Text

the seasons wait for no one

rengoku kyojuro x reader

synopsis ➳ rengoku kyojuro comes from a long line of skilled blacksmiths. hardworking and talented as he is, it's no wonder he finds an employer at the early age of 20. he's proud of how far he's come, he thought this was everything he had wished for. so what is this foreign longing?

warnings ➳ blacksmith au, slight angst, misunderstandings, smut, (loads of) dirty talk, oral (f. receiving), fingering, squirting, vaginal sex, creampie, pussydrunk kyo and cockdrunk reader (hehe), lowercase, mdni!

wordcount ➳ 10.2k

[crossposted on ao3]

he should be feeling grateful for the opportunities that life had brought his way.

don’t get him wrong. kyojuro will be eternally thankful for his father’s teachings, for being well off enough to have the privilege of moving to the capital as soon as he turned 20 and for being given the one-in-a-lifetime chance to work as the blacksmith of one of the noblest families in the region. he knew, in a humble way, that he was hardworking and ambitious, and that those qualities had played an immense role in getting him to where he currently was in life, but he also acknowledged that luck had done its part as well, and he did not take it for granted.

the governor had been kind enough, and if he had been condescending (which he had), the young blacksmith had not taken it to heart. it had been a couple of servants who had given him the tour of his new home, including his workspace which, he had soon found out, was a small, stone shed equipped with a forge, anvil, slack tub and tools, a crafting bench, a wooden table that creaked when he put his bags on it and a bed with a firm mattress and sheets that could definitely use a dusting. the windows were small and let little light in, but the structure was sound and the space overall gave off a cozy ambience than he immediately grew to appreciate.

apparently, their previous blacksmith - a man who went by haganezuka - had been forced to step down from his duties prematurely due to a severe injury, but not without first leaving word of his old acquaintance, rengoku shinjuro, and his family’s historical skill on the anvil. as a recommendation to the governor.

that was how kyojuro had been introduced to his first official job as a smith, and the young man had been downright ecstatic. he was so grateful for the opportunity to make use of his skill, truly.

and yet…

“do you accept commissions?”

you had waited for him to slide the piece of hot metal into the slack tub to make your presence known, and even then it had taken kyojuro a couple of seconds to process your voice. after making sure his hands were free of his current project, he turned to face the door to “his” shed (it didn’t belong to him, by any means, but he did spend most of his time within those sweltering walls) and came to see you, for the first time. you were unfamiliar to him, but kyojuro had gathered enough about the household of his new home to immediately come to the realisation of who was standing just outside his space.

“oh! of course, ma’am. it’s what i do!”

the eldest child of his first employer looked just as he had been described by the servants. you seemed to be a little older than him or, at least, carried yourself with an air of maturity unfamiliar to most people in their early twenties. prim and proper, you stood just outside the threshold, seemingly apprehensive of the suffocating heat that radiated off the smithy.

kyojuro had found out that, the day of his arrival to the manor, you had been away on a visit to a close cousin with your younger sister, so he hadn’t had the chance to introduce himself to either of you; though, he wondered if it mattered, since the rest of the noble family that he had actually already met had spared him just enough time to give him tasks and projects to occupy himself with, to make himself useful. nothing more, nothing less.

but the smile that slowly curled your lips clued him in that maybe, just maybe, you were different than your father and youngest brother.

“wonderful. i would like to request a ring from you.” and the details of the design you had in mind flew over his head because he could only think about how your voice held a gentleness that he couldn’t help but find attractive. that, and the fact that he had only been in your residence for a little over two weeks and he hadn’t had the time to formally get familiar with the crafting bench. his skill had always revolved around objects that were to be used, not admired, and even though he was no novice when it came to making simple ornaments, it was something he’d still need to dedicate some studying to.

the notion of a challenge pumped up the blood in his veins. so much so that he didn’t realize that you were still talking when he accepted your request.

“leave it to me, ma’am! i won’t disappoint you!” if you were annoyed by either being cut off or his booming voice, you didn’t show it. instead, you offered a nod and an amicable smile.

“i will leave it in your capable hands then, mr. rengoku. oh, and i don’t expect you’ll have it finished by the end of this week, since your workload seems large enough already. just notify me when it is done.”

and with that, you left him alone to dwell in the heat and his thoughts. he realized, sheepishly, that he would need to seek you out and go over the details one more time. the idea of spending more time with you, he was surprised to admit that not only didn’t bother him, but he actively looked forward to it. he thought he wanted to bask in your confident presence again, to hear your melodious voice and unravel expressions other than that serene smile on your face.

it felt like a dangerous thing to long for. kyojuro was grateful for how his life had turned out up until then, and yet why did it suddenly feel like his success came hand in hand with a burden?

-----------------------

the ring was finished within the next two days, because no matter how much work he had on his shoulders, kyojuro had felt the unshakeable need to prioritize your little project.

the very evening of the day he had met you, he had ventured into the estate and requested your whereabouts to the servants doing some last hour clean-up. he had been directed towards the library where, as he had learned, you liked to spend your evenings before your curfew. you had looked surprised by his sudden presence, greeting him by his family name in a curious manner (and as proud as he was to be a rengoku, he couldn’t help but feel his last name sounded wrong coming from you), and when he had asked for another run on the specifics of the ring, you hadn’t chastised him. no, you had regarded him with an amused semblance and patiently repeated your request for him, and this time, he went back to the smithy with the clearest idea in his head.

that, and the lingering sensation of your hands on his when he had asked to take the measurements of your digits. for the project, of course, and despite his professionalism, he had subconsciously taken note of every little detail: how your hands were tiny compared to his, soft and delicate against the callouses of his fingers, how they seemed colder than his (but he knew that was on him; he had always run hotter than the average), and how they never trembled upon his chaste touch, because you knew the hold he had on your hands didn’t mean anything. you knew, and he should, too.

sleep evaded him that night, for the first time in weeks, and he decided to start working in hopes of ridding his headspace of the conflicting feelings.

and diving into his work had done wonders, until he finally held the results of his efforts and was faced with the reality that he’d see you again shortly. the thought filled him with a concerning amount of excitement. the ring was minuscule in his large palm, and despite not being as skilled in craftsmanship as he was in smithship, he was proud of the way it had turned out. the scarce morning light that filtered through the small window gave it a serene gleam that, he thought, suited you to perfection.

kyojuro had thought that perhaps he should let some servants know that your commission was finished, but a big part of him wanted to be the first person to see your reaction, so he placed the ring snug against the cushioned insides of a small wooden box and resolutely decided that he’d be the one to deliver both, the news and the ring, to you.

he had made sure to get ready to visit your abode, had made himself look (and smell) presentable, but he knew as soon as he stepped out of the shed that he would not need to make the walk towards the imposing estate, because there you were.

the stone shed had been built in a secluded, relatively remote area from the main building, and surrounded by a forest of Japanese maples that, at this time of the year, displayed the most vivid of their appearance, casting a warm spell as sunlight filtered through the red leaves. the most impressive one grew a few feet from the smithy, a large specimen that threw ample shade and offered a leaf-covered clearing that he had been tempted to nap on several times since his arrival. only this time, it was already occupied by the same person he had set out to seek.

“good morning, mr. rengoku.” you greeted him as soon as the crunchy footsteps began to approach you, but your gaze never left the book that rested on your lap. he was certain you missed the way his wide eyes ran over your figure, sitting up against the rough bark of the tree, your hair kept out of the way with a simple hairpin and body covered comfortably in a warm-looking yukata. he would have dwelled in the thought that it felt almost wrong to see a high-standing lady such as yourself sitting on the ground if you didn’t look so breathtaking in the simplicity of it.

“good morning, ma’am!” he returned in his usual loud voice, bowing deeply. the box sat heavy in his hand as he revealed it to you. “i finished your commission, i hope the ring is to your liking.” he reveled in the look of mild shock on your face, like you hadn’t expected him to finish his project in so little time.

he felt an unfamiliar unease as he handed the box to you, and it remained while you opened it and inspected its contents, waiting with anticipation for you to reveal your verdict of his hard work. wordlessly, you plucked the ring from its place on the box and turned it in your lifted hand, letting the soft red orange glow of the forest hit it from different angles.

“it is fine work,” you finally spoke, and kyojuro caught himself from sagging with visible relief, keeping his confident stance. “if a little rough around the edges, but i can tell you put your soul into making it. just as expected from our smith.”

“thank you, ma’am!” his answer was sincere, but automatic, really; the flame-haired man feared to think of why the sight of you sliding the ring onto your finger, and seeing it fit perfectly, brought what felt like a swarm of butterflies to his stomach. he knew the ring didn’t have any special meaning to you, but a weirdly possessive part of him enjoyed seeing you wear a piece that he had made himself.

for what felt like the umpteenth time in the last couple of days, he forced himself to stop that train of thought. he really needed to stop entertaining this sudden infatuation. because it was, sudden and improper and so, so very wrong.

“i hope you won’t mind that i keep commissioning from you in the future.”

he was scared of how much the idea excited him.

“it’d be my pleasure, ma’am!”

-----------------------

the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months. the autumn season had come and gone without anything of significance to write home about, but kyojuro was the kind of man to find wonder in every little thing that life had to offer. he would draft letters for his family regularly, in his free time, which slowly became less and less as the head of the estate steadily added onto his workload, but he never complained. if anything, he was grateful for the opportunity to hone his skill further, and was pleased to see the visible improvement on every project he completed.

being the extroverted person he was, kyojuro was quick to get along with most of the house workers, soon becoming an esteemed member of their humble circle. he was never late for meals, and the cooks had learned to double the rations since the arrival of the blacksmith, knowing the man to polish whatever amount of food was served to him. and, despite having his own work to tend to, he never hesitated to offer his assistance to the maids, even though they rarely conceded.

within his second month, kyojuro had received his first visit from haganezuka. he hadn’t known the man personally, only that he was an old friend of his father, and despite the gruff disposition he displayed, he appreciated his company. the previous blacksmith came over every two or so weeks to share a pot of green tea and, occasionally, mitarashi dango (because kyojuro had learned the pattern of his visits as well as the older man’s favor for the sweet treat, and would request it made “coincidentally” every time haganezuka was to appear). haganezuka claimed that he only visited because he would go insane without nothing of substance to do at home otherwise, but kyojuro had learned that this was the man’s way of admitting he enjoyed his company as well.

his letters were always long and thoughtful, always wishing good health to his parents and dedicating extended descriptions of the passing seasons to his cherished brother senjuro. while the maples still displayed their vibrant red, he would claim fallen leaves to attach to his letters.

he never wrote about you, as much as he itched to scribble on and on about his growing admiration (crush) for the eldest daughter. he never mentioned the rings and necklaces and bracelets you’d sometimes request of him, nor how much he was improving on making detailed ornaments, because it’d beg the question about his blossoming feelings for you, and that was a question he wasn’t ready to answer even to himself.

he would also, unexpectedly, find himself spending more time with you. that spot under the maple tree happened to be one of your favorite places in the lands that your father owned. he’d find you there sometimes, when he stepped outside of the smithy to catch a break from the pounding heat of the hearth, always sitting proper, immersed in a different book each time, while he stood by covered in soot and reeking of sweat, but you never seemed offended by his rough appearance when you asked for his company.

you had told him about your evident love for reading, your preferred genres, your routine, your favorite foods and had confided in him that you loved the deep, meaningful conversations you shared with your mother and dreaded always hearing your father express how he deemed himself above everyone else. you told him about your little sister and how she wasn’t truly scared of him (he had met the young lady, and despite his friendly introduction, she had been intimidated by his hawkishly wide eyes), and in return you had asked about his family, and that topic alone had caused him to get carried away with facts and anecdotes.

“i love how passionate you are about your loved ones, mr. rengoku.” that had been the first time he had actually flushed in your presence and you reveled in how well red suited his complexion.

he was oddly satisfied, though, because he wasn’t the only one whose emotions were starting to show in the open. the more afternoons he found himself basking in your company, the more you let your true colors shine; he was pleased to learn that that proper lady that had once professionally commissioned his work was actually the easily-excitable and dreamy woman that, he liked to naively think, only really showed herself to him.

in the weeks leading up to the beginning of the winter, he had been tasked with chopping wood for the incoming colder months, so the afternoons that had once been filled with incessant chatter between you and him had morphed into another kind of coexistence that you couldn’t deny enjoying despite missing the conversations you were used to holding with the blacksmith.

you were ashamed to admit that you hadn’t turned the page of your current read in gods know how long, but who could blame you? only a few feet away from the great maple you sat against was a very exerted kyojuro, puffing and grunting as he brought down the ax time and time again, cutting through heavy grains of wood in a way that he almost made look easy. and you knew that he knew that he was distracting you, because through the side-eyed glances you’d occasionally spare his way you’d caught his wide eyes shamelessly staring right back at you and what was, undeniably, a smile on his parted lips.

-----------------------

winter was a slow season. everything felt more lethargic, different in an unpleasant way. the maples had lost all of their vibrant leaves, leaving the ominous structure of curved branches hanging in the air. the thick snow that covered the ground gave kyojuro’s steps a sluggish quality on his daily trips to and from the estate, but the promise of comforting food helped him push through the complicated weather.

there was very little that could discourage optimistic kyojuro, but the loneliness that came with winter was slowly taking a toll on him. his friend haganezuka (who would never admit to being friends) had put his visits on hold until the weather became easier in the spring, and so had you; it was much too cold to spend time in the forest, and although kyojuro would never wish sickness upon you, he missed the time you used to spend with him. he would see you in the manor, sometimes, but he didn’t know if he would be overstepping his employer’s hospitality if he stayed to chat, so he didn’t.

he always noticed that you were wearing at least one of the pieces you had commissioned over the time, and that weird feeling in his gut would reappear and remain as he made his way back to the shed.

it wasn’t until one of the warmest days that december would allow, when the sun soothed the unforgiving cold if only a smidge, that he got to talk to you again. because you had sought him out. because it had been a sunny day and the snow had been easier to trudge through, and he answered the knocking on the door to the smithy without expecting that it would be you on the other side of it.

“ma’am, you shouldn’t be here.” despite his surprise, he regarded you with a stern expression that he can’t remember having used on you before. and, despite his words, he ushered you into the warmth of his workspace, because it was still too cold outside to just send you back on the way you had come from.

you were quiet while he brought you close to the forge, relief settling in your bones when the heat started to spread through your stiff joints. he looked upset, but the way his beautiful eyes regarded you wasn’t enough to deter you.

“i missed you,” you stated without breaking eye contact, determination in your voice and gaze, and kyojuro desperately tried not to look too much into the unspoken message behind your words. he was so lost in your eyes that he barely saw you stepping closer to him. he wet his drying lips with the tip of his tongue, and it was impossible to miss the way your pupils (did they look larger?) followed the movement of his pink muscle.

“i missed you too, ma’am,” he admitted, all the while trying to step backwards and put some distance between the two of you, because heaven knows his sanity needs the space. “but you can’t risk catching a cold just because you missed me.” and he knew he should sound more chastising, but his voice came out gentle, like a small act of rebellion against his better judgment.

“no, no, you don’t understand,” you stepped forward, trying to close the distance once more, until his lower back was pressed against the old table and his hand held the chair in a vice grip, because your body was so much closer to his than it had ever been, your chest pressing against his, your head craned up in a way that must have been uncomfortable because you were smaller than him. your hand came to hold the one that wasn’t busy nearly splintering the back of the chair he was holding on to for dear life. “i need you so bad, kyojuro.”

you had never called him by his given name before, but now he fully understood why “mr. rengoku” had always sounded so off parting from your lips. a shuddery breath escaped his lips without his permission, and he knew damn well that you had felt it, because he could also feel your own breathy plea right against his lips, and he couldn’t even try to deny the way the sound went straight to his cock, his resolve so close to snapping it was almost painful to hold onto it. but he had to, he couldn’t give in, couldn’t taint you-

“please, kiss me.”

fuck it all-

sharp and rapid knocking shattered the trance you had put each other in as you jumped away from the blacksmith, startled nearly out of your skin. the interruption was so sudden it felt like you had just had freezing water dumped on you.

“mr. rengoku?” you recognized the voice of one of the servants, loud and clear despite being muffled. he sounded agitated. “i can’t find the lady at the estate, is there any chance she’s with you?”

kyojuro didn’t answer immediately, busy regarding you closely. now that the haze was broken, he could see the clarity, the vulnerability in your eyes as you gazed up at him. he didn’t like it, he hated that you had laid your feelings out in the open, that he had almost admitted to reciprocation and, now that you had been forced back into your senses, he couldn’t do it anymore. it was wrong, it wasn’t meant to be, but it hurt so fucking much to have you looking at him with that broken look.

he might as well have rejected you outright.

after another second, he broke eye contact, walking towards the bed and grabbing his haori that he had left there as an extra cover, before walking towards the door. he had the decency to make sure you had composed your semblance before opening the door.

“hey!” optimistic kyojuro had seldom had to fake a smile before. “yeah, she’s with me! she noticed that i left my haori at the mess hall when i went to the estate for lunch earlier. she’s such a thoughtful lady!”

“my lady, it was absurdly reckless of you to come all the way here in these conditions!” the harsh scolding from the older man fell on deaf ears as you walked towards the entrance, not even sparing a look at kyojuro when you shuffled past his towering frame. “let’s go back before the temperature drops further. thank you, mr. rengoku. have a pleasant evening.”

“you too! be careful on the way back!” he hesitated for a second before adding. “please, be mindful of your health from now on, ma’am.”

it hurt more than he’d like to admit, the way you only nodded while blatantly avoiding his searching eyes. he had wanted to, at the very least, make sure you knew that he didn’t disregard your feelings, that even if you thought that he didn’t return them you’d still know that he cared about you.

watching you disappear into the distance with your servant hammered the sinking feeling into his stomach that your relationship would never go back to how it used to be.

and maybe it was for the best.

-----------------------

“i have a problem, haganezuka.”

“don’t we all?”

spring had arrived early and suddenly to the lands of the governor’s estate, melting the snow and giving way to blossoms so stunning they felt like a reward after the merciless winter had finally passed. and what a long season it had been.

if one were to venture further into the maple forest, they’d come across a medium-sized pond that kyojuro had already had the pleasure to become acquaintanced with, especially when he needed a break from his hard work. it was especially beautiful at night, when hidden crickets sing their tunes and fireflies fly with ghastly serenity. it had been months since he last visited, since he had spent most of his time during the freezing season forging and crafting, trying to escape from the cold and his inner turmoil.

it had been so long since he last talked to you too.

he did still see you, during his visits to the manor, but you were still blatantly avoiding him. whatever glimpses of you he did catch were enough to show him that you no longer wore his necklaces, bracelets, rings or hairpins.

it hurt only slightly less every time he noticed.

the worst part of it was keeping it to himself. he did still engage in conversation with the servants of the main house, and despite being close friends with a few of them, he knew it wouldn’t be wise to speak of the circumstances; he dreaded to think what would happen to either him or you should your father find out.

he knew it was foolish to write home about it; after all, he had never mentioned you in any of his letters, and he was aware that the improperty of the situation would be frowned upon by his stern father; what cretin son would mess up a perfectly ideal job for a woman he wasn’t even meant to have? besides, the letters he sent were managed by the household staff, and he couldn’t be too careful with the information that could be leaked to his employer.

that is why, when haganezuka visited for the first time in months, kyojuro suggested the secluded pond as their snacking spot for a “change of scenery”, instead of the clearing of the smithy. he knew he could trust the older man with his predicament.

it helped to know that haganezuka rarely initiated conversation with anyone, kyojuro was certain he wouldn’t care enough to snitch.

“i’m in love with the lady.” it was the first time he admitted it out loud, and it felt startling even to himself, but there was not a trace of hesitation in his words. haganezuka seemed more surprised than he thought he would be, because he had stopped munching on the sticky ball that was his favorite treat to slowly side-eye kyojuro with the one functional eye he had.

“...the governor’s wife?”

“heavens, no!” your mother had been as pleasant towards him as you, which ascertained whose values you had inherited, but he wasn’t the kind of man to develop an infatuation towards a taken woman; apparently, though, he was the kind of man to fall for a woman he couldn’t have, regardless. “the eldest daughter.”

“and what do you want me to say to that?” haganezuka deflected gruffly; it was obvious this conversation was way outside of his area of expertise. he continued eating his dango, and it seemed like he wasn’t going to add anything else, until he swallowed. “you didn’t pick the brightest guy to talk about romance, kid.”

“i’m not really looking for advice, i just…” he sighed, trying to gather his thoughts. the cup of tea sat unattended by his side, on the grass. “i almost kissed her.”

“almost? so you didn’t. you have done nothing wrong so far.” kyojuro looked downright embarrassed by the admission that was about to leave his lips.

“i have given into temptation by myself. in numerous occasions. always thinking about her.” haganezuka regarded him with a look that screamed that he really hadn’t needed to be exposed to that information, but kyojuro ignored it. “i’ve dishonored her in thought. i should commit seppuku!”

“you are being ridiculous,” the older blacksmith scoffed, crossing his arms. “everyone’s given into those needs, you think you’re special?” the younger man remained uncharacteristically quiet, and haganezuka heaved an annoyed sigh. “look, if you’re going to keep being a bitch about this, i have contacts. you have a reputation and talent, kid. i can secure you a new job far from here. far from her.”

the water of the pond rippled peacefully in the direction the gentle breeze pushed it, and kyojuro stared, enraptured, lost in thought. the plate with mitarashi dango had long been polished, and despite his fearsome appetite, he couldn’t recall having grabbed a single stick in the time he had spent with the dark-haired man.

“i appreciate the offer,” he conceded, smiling up at his friend. he knew that was the best option. it’s not like he should have entertained any chance at courtship with you, but even now he was certain that there was no future in store for him that involved you. he would move on, and so would you; if he stayed, he’d eventually be forced to witness you be betrothed to another man, and the thought alone had his heart plummeting into his stomach. he knew he should leave and never look back, meet and fall in love with a woman that was actually within his league. “but i don’t think i can easily forget about her.”

haganezuka looked exasperated at this point, and decided to leave the conversation at that. kyojuro didn’t push, and once more became absorbed in his thoughts.

perhaps he just needed more time to overcome it.

-----------------------

it was late march when kyojuro was informed of a long-standing tradition in the governor’s family. apparently, it would soon be one of the yearly two weeks when half the servants were granted what could remotely be considered a “vacation”, taking place during the birthday week of the head of the estate. the staff would generally use this time to visit their families and enjoy some well-deserved rest; the other half of the staff was ordered to stay and supervise the lands while the governor and his family visited his childhood home in the next town over and spent a week of festivities with relatives, close and distant.

because kyojuro had been working under the governor for less than a year, he wasn’t given the option to take this vacation, and instead would have to wait for the one other week of the year when the remaining staff would be allowed their due rest (he was informed it was usually in the summer). it was disappointing (yet expected) to learn that he would have to wait several months still to see his family, but he had known when he had accepted the position that the periods between his visits would be long, so he hadn’t been too upset by the news.

what had been surprising, though, was being told by the head chef that the eldest daughter had had to opt out of the trip because you had been coming up with something for some time and it had culminated in a severe case of hay fever the moment spring had hit in full bloom. the news reminded him of that one conversation you had shared all those months ago about how much you loved flowers (especially sunflowers, and it had instantly become cherished information) but suffering the worst coughing and sneezing fits if exposed to them. his heart squeezed painfully.

he really missed learning every little detail about you.

kyojuro had tried hard not to dwell on thoughts about you, he had tried to de-escalate his high-strung feelings, and for the most part he had been successful (granted, he had his heavy workload to help keep his head out of thoughts that didn’t involve metal and fire), but it was small things like this that made all his progress crumble and his longing return.

the day the noble family had left the estate, it had started to rain cats and dogs. to be fair, this weather had been announcing itself for some time now, but it didn’t make the downpour any less impressive. the muted sound of rain against the roof of the shed was barely audible over the steady banging of his hammer on hot metal. it must have been pretty late into the night, the only source of light inside the smithy coming from the flaming hearth and the oil lamp that kyojuro kept on the nearby table. his eyes burned from being exposed to heat and exhaustion, but he kept them owlishly wide, intensely focused on the project at hand.

everything considered, he couldn’t be blamed for not catching the thumping of dull knocks the first time they came down on the door. and, to his merit, he did hear them the second time, breaking from his state of concentration and into one of disbelief.

who the hell was outside in that weather?

he made sure to secure his project safely before rushing to let whoever it was inside before they died of hypothermia, only to yank the door open and be met with the same pair of eyes that had actively and unforgivingly avoided his own for so many months now.

“ma’am?” he exclaimed, startled, but quickly kicked himself into action and grabbed your wrist, securing a ceiling above your head and slamming the door shut. “what the hell are you doing here?” and for the first time since he had met her, the words that came out of his mouth weren’t laced with gentleness and joy, but instead very palpable exasperation. “you are sick and-”

“i’m not sick.” you interrupted him, unaffected by the raise of his voice. you inspected his frazzled look, the layer of sweat that made his skin glow, his searching eyes, the way his mouth opened in an attempt to interrogate you, but you beat him to it. “i lied about being sick. i needed the opportunity to speak with you without being interrupted. no one will be checking on me because i explicitly asked not to be disturbed in my rest.”

kyojuro felt his heart begin to race, a gut-wrenching mixture of rage and concern churning his insides. there you were, standing on a puddle of rainwater of your own making, with your beautiful hair plastered to your face, your yukata, no wonder, soaked straight through, and despite looking like you’d collapse any second now from how harshly you were trembling in your ruined sandals you had the audacity to pin him in place with a stern look, as if he was the one in that situation who deserved a talking-to.

“you couldn’t have chosen a more favorable night to speak with me? or even better, request my presence at the manor?” some part of his mind was begging him to keep his growing anger at bay, but the more this ridiculous situation raced in circles around his brain, the more agitated he felt himself getting. “even if you are not sick, you might as well fall ill now after this stunt you’ve just pulled! the last thing i asked of you before months of silence was to look after your health and you dare disregard it just like that! and just because whatever it is you need to tell me cannot wait-”

“you are no longer required as our blacksmith.”

the build-up of his anger dissipated so suddenly it almost gave him whiplash. you remained quiet, stare unwavering while you waited for him to compose himself.

“you are dismissing me.” it was not a question, and you hated the way his usually booming voice, the same one you had loved from the very beginning, had suddenly bee reduced to a hollow hum. you hoped he’d scream at you instead.

“not exactly, please, let me explain,” you tried to keep your own emotions at bay, but it proved increasingly harder the more you looked at kyojuro. “your services have been requested by the nobleman in charge of one of the neighboring counties. it is not the capital, but the work is just as honest and well paid as it is here. you will have the same chance at a thriving career there, and this dismissal does in no way taint your reputation-”

“my services have been requested,” kyojuro parroted, staring down at you with disbelief evident in his gaze. if you looked hard enough, you could also discern something breaking behind those soulful eyes, so you looked away. “because your father spoke of them?”

“father is unaware yet. i offered them.”

“why?”

“because…” and you swallowed hard, and the dam that kept your tears constrained shattered while you struggled with your following words, “...because i messed up and this is not fair to you, and i want to offer you an out. there won’t be consequences for you, should you accept it, and we can each go our separate ways and forget that i ever ruined our friendship with my stupid feelings.”

you were sobbing openly now, muttering hasty apologies to the stunned blacksmith who had once been your friend, shrinking into yourself by the second, unable to take the whole of his scrutiny, but kyojuro decided that he’d have none of that.

that look of despair didn’t look good on the woman he cherished, against all rational judgment. he hated it.

the warm, big hands that enveloped your shoulders as they shook startled you enough to give into his prodding gaze; it had always been amusing, how you could feel it on you even when you weren’t looking, wordlessly calling for attention to those eyes that resembled fiery flames. and when you met them, they felt the same they had all those months ago, familiar and open.

“i love your eyes so much.” it escaped your lips like a reflex, but you did not regret the words one bit. the trembling of your fragile body seemed to cease, slowly but surely, the closer his inviting body shuffled against yours, and you greedily soaked into the warmth he offered.

“ask me again,” he breathed, firm and tender at the same time, and he knew you were confused because your eyebrows furrowed in the quest to decipher what he could be talking about. he conceded with a chuckle. “what you asked me all those months ago, ask me again.”

oh.

he was already so close, it reminded you of the position you had put him in on that december afternoon. this was payback, you were sure, with the way he had slowly moved you to press against that table, the way his eyes pinned you in place and his breath brushed devastatingly against your lips, impatiently waiting for you to answer to your cue. you don’t make him wait anymore.

“please, kiss me.”

and kiss you he did, with a voracious eagerness that should have been saved for a second or third kiss, not a first, but the build-up had left kyojuro so high-strung that he decided to skip all decorum and ravage you the way he almost had on that day, the way he had wished to since that day. he pulled out all the stops, licking, sucking and biting at your lips while his hands busied themselves into the soaked fabric around your hips. your own hands slid into his scalp, clumsily slipping his hair out of the tie that had always kept it tied and in place when he worked. his fiery locks spilled over his shoulders and he finally broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to yours and licking at the thin string of saliva that connected your mouths.

“if…” you trailed off, hesitating. “if you were to leave the estate… would you take me with you?” but the words were out in the open before you could smother them any longer, and the look of surprise on kyojuro’s face initially brought a wave of dread to your stomach.

“what about your family?” you understood that you leaving your family behind would be the first concern to come with your request, considering he was such a family man himself, but you were convinced. you had warmed yourself up to the idea for long enough.

“i will miss my family, especially mother and my sister… but now that i know that my feelings are returned, i don’t think i can bear the notion of being away from you, my love.” the way he visibly softened was enough to reassure you that he wouldn’t argue further; he trusted you to weigh out the options and make your own choices like the strong woman that you were.

the strong woman that was now visibly trembling from palpable excitement, nerves and cold. kyojuro became aware, once again, of the elephant in the room. and he chastised himself for letting his feelings get the better of him and completely ignore that you shouldn’t stay in those ruined clothes any longer.

“i need you to disrobe.” he realized how wrong it had come out the second the words left his mouth, so he was quick to correct himself. “i meant that we need to get you out of those clothes before you succumb to the cold.” and as if his words were a reminder, you felt a full-body shiver when you became hyperconscious of the uncomfortably cold feeling of wet cotton on your skin.

because the smithy was made up of one room (as a shed would), and leaving the small building given the heavy rain that had not ceased for even a minute, kyojuro resorted to turning around, facing his neat bed and giving you as much privacy as he could offer you in that situation.

the splat of wet clothes hitting the floor echoed loud and clear in the silent room, and kyojuro immediately jumped to grab the haori on his bed and turned, eyes closed so tightly it almost looked painful, to offer it to you.

“i know it’s not a proper outfit, but i hope it’ll suffice for the moment.” but you didn’t accept the cloth he was handing out to you, not immediately at least.

“i want you to look at me, kyojuro.”

he knew he should fight your siren song, but his eyes flew open almost against his will, first falling on the impish smile of your face, and eventually giving in and roaming the standing expanse of your naked body.

oh, heavens -

“you need to disrobe as well, i’m afraid i soaked your clothes as well,” you didn’t sound one bit apologetic, but the smith found that he did not care. a dangerous glint shone in the eyes that hadn’t stopped observing every exposed inch of your deliciously dewy skin.

“wear the haori. now,” as he tugged on the belt keeping his yukata closed, following your subtle cue to undress without complaint, and reveling in the way your eyes didn’t stray from his even as you grabbed the cloth that was still hanging from his outstretched hand. “because if you keep presenting yourself so deliciously to me i might have no choice but to dig in.”

he worked on removing his clothes until he stood naked and shamelessly aroused before you, all the while you slipped the white haori around your shoulders; it was so large and cozy that you were heavily tempted to wrap it snugly around your body, but for the sake of the tension festering in the air, you decided to keep the front open, teasing: an invitation.

“fine by me.” and with that, he broke the distance you had once again formed to smash his lips against yours, moaning and grasping at the chilly skin of your hips, and pressing you forward into his body. his hardening cock nudged your lower stomach, and you couldn’t decide whether to focus on that or his hands sliding down to cup your ass. “hold on to me,” he slurred, and the next second he was hoisting you up, pleased as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. “good girl.”

the praise played in your head over and over as he placed you on top of the table, which creaked unforgivingly under your sudden weight. mindful of potential accidents, kyojuro removed the candle from the surface on which you sat and placed it on the crafting bench instead, coming back to you with a predatory quality in his step.

“i’ve been a foolish, foolish man,” he rumbled, grabbing your thighs and pushing them apart in a motion so fluid you could only gasp, startled as he dropped to his knees between your legs, “to have thought i had even one chance of escaping your charms, my little flame.”

the words were pressed sultrily in between open mouthed kisses against your sensitive inner thighs, which by now were quivering for a whole other reason than the cold that had seeped into your body.

“kyojuro-”

“i’m not going do deny you any longer, not now and not ever.” and he didn’t tease because the wait had been long enough already. his lips latched onto your sopping pussy with intention, and you cried out in startled pleasure as he started to eat you out like a man starved. his tongue traced a long, flat swipe from your clenching hole all the way up to your clit, and back down in a zigzag motion, wiggling and flicking his tongue against the entrance, rumbling at the sweet juice that coated the muscle. “you taste so good, i can’t get enough.”

it seemed like kyojuro could get off on delivering praise alone with the way he was physically unable to shut up against your cunt, babbling and moaning about “this pussy’s so sweet, i could eat you out for hours” or “keep grinding on my face like that” or “c’mon, use my tongue for your pleasure, my sunflower” while all you had been rendered to was a moaning mess with one hand gripping the hem of his borrowed haori and the other holding a fistful of his soft hair, urging him closer.

“kyojuro, please, suck my clit harder and put your fingers in me,” you requested breathlessly and, far from being put off by your straightforwardness, your lover took to obeying and complying with the unleashed eagerness of a puppy, bringing one of the hands that had been forcing your thighs apart to your fluttering quim. his middle finger, rough and thick and thankfully not covered in soot for a change, teased the entrance with featherlight circles before pushing inside, working steadily to loosen the twitching channel.

“that’s it, you’re so tight, my love,” he groaned, because you were, but you were also so turned on that his finger slid in and out with little to no resistance. “i’m going to get you prepared so well, you’re going to take my whole cock inside this tight pussy, aren’t you?”

“y-yes! oh gods, yes, i want your big cock inside of me, pleasepleaseplease-!” his ring finger joined the tight fit, prodding and curling and squelching so obscenely you knew you should be ashamed, yet it only aroused you even more. his relentless ministrations were bringing you closer and closer to orgasm, every pump of his fingers and flick of his tongue effortlessly carrying you to the edge.

“you’re going to come? my princess is going to make a mess, isn’t she?” kyojuro noticed, of course he noticed, observant and thoughtful as he was. his wrist must hurt from how awkwardly he was bending it to finger you as well as the pace he had set, but it didn’t seem to faze him when the promise of your climax was so close he could practically taste it in the copious amounts of cum that your delicious cunt was drooling all over his lower face. “please, come on my tongue, let me get you off, little flame, c’mon, c’mon…!”

you didn’t need further encouragement to fall off the edge, voice cracking embarrassingly from the high-pitched cry that heralded your orgasm. kyojuro moaned shamelessly along with you as a small stream of clear liquid hit his tongue while he ate you out with renewed fervor, feeling it drip down his chin and onto his thick chest, fingers feeling every merciless squeeze caused by the waves of your subsiding climax, and had you been lucid enough you’d have heard him babbling and growling “good girl, that’s my good girl… give it to me, yes…!”

and he removed himself from your exhausted cunt when your legs finally fell limp on the table, regarding you with heat in his eyes and the back of a hand to his chin, wiping off the cum that soaked the lower half of his visage.

you looked out of it for the full fifteen seconds it took to come back from the faltering, smaller waves of bliss, but once your eyes rolled back in place, it was to meet his gaze and, fuck , kyojuro swore you almost had hearts in your eyes.

“kyojuroo,” you slurred, sounding deliciously fucked out. “let me suck your cock before you fuck me, please. i’ll get it so wet you’ll glide in, i promise. i wanna make you feel good too~”

“i’m flattered, little flame,” he chuckled, gathering your limp body in his sturdy arms and carrying you to the mattress (heaven knows if he tried to fuck you on the table, he’d have one less piece of furniture by the end of the night). he laid you down with tender care, carefully placing your head on the pillow before settling between your legs in a kneeling position. his hands went back to gripping your hips to adjust you better. “but i think i might go insane if i don’t take you this instant. don’t worry, though, i’ll take you up on that offer another time…”

his throbbing erection had been but a distant discomfort while he had devoted his whole attention to you, but it was now demanding the promising tight wrap of your sweet cunt. placing your knees around his waist, he brought you closer, to the point where the tip pressed against your wet folds, and he faltered.

“i’m going to make you mine,” he promised, running the red glans up and down your sopping slit, and you nodded feverishly. he decided, on the spot and despite being at his own limit, that that wasn’t answer enough. “beg for it.”

“oh, kyojuro, please, make me yours! please, fuck me until i forget my own name!” he didn’t expect he would love the way any sense of filter had abandoned you in your cockdrunk stupor, but he did, he loved how he didn’t have to coax the dirty talk out of you. he loved how shameless you were naturally.

“that’s right…” he aligned the tip, giving an experimental roll of his hips and groaning hoarsely when the thick head popped right inside your tight channel. “let me claim this pussy!”

he was fully stuffed inside in only a few pushes, straining uncomfortably against what felt like the deepest stretch of your cunt, and you moaned lowly, adjusting to the stretch around your entrance. his praise was incessant.

“that’s a good girl, taking my whole cock so well, stretching so well just for me, o-oh,” and his voice breaks a little when you return a roll of your own hips, testing the feeling, and kyojuro couldn't help returning the dangerous smile that you’ve offered. “you naughty minx.”

that was all the warning you received before he pulled out, all the way to the tip, only to slam back home in one swift thrust. the shared moan reverberated throughout the small room, and kyojuro began by setting a slow and deep pace that left you shaking down to your very marrow. your legs squeezed his sides, enjoying the way his thrusts pushed you further up the bed.

“i’m going to fuck you so good, aren’t i?” his hands traveled from your hips all the way up to your unattended chest taking rough handfuls of both mounds and massaging, groping and pulling in all directions, at all paces, just to find out what made you keen. and whatever knowledge kyojuro learned, he abused, in the best type of way. he cupped the underside of your tits, watching them bounce with each movement, and he snarled. “gods, i wish you were wearing that necklace i made for you, if only to watch it bounce in time with your breasts.”

“i will! i will wear it next time! and i’ll also wear the rings you made for me and jerk your fat cock off while wearing them!”

“fuuck, yes you will!” who knew you could be so filthy? there wasn’t an atom in his being that minded the fact that you spewed promises so sinful they’d ruin your reputation as the proper and elegant lady if word ever got out. lucky you, kyojuro had zero intentions to share you with anyone.

“kyojuro,” you called his name through hiccups, and he relented a little to let you speak more comfortably while giving himself a break by rolling languidly into you. he watched your hand slide down your torso until it rested on your lower belly. and then, you pushed. you pushed your hand down and he could feel the extra pressure on his snug cock, groaning lowly. you smiled deviously up at him. “i feel you all the way up here…”

if he hadn’t closed his eyes at the lewd sight of you adoringly petting the slight bulge on your tummy, he knew he would have come on the spot.

“of course you do, little flame.” break time was over, and he began to pick up the pace once more, except this time he also let his fingers join in the fun, placing a steely thumb on your throbbing bud and rubbing mercilessly while you thrashed on his cock. “i can feel you squeezing harder, are you getting close, my love?”

the only answer you could deliver was a garbled mess of “yesyesyes” and wet pleas, hips bucking in every which direction, simultaneously trying to get more of and get away from the intense pleasure he was bestowing upon you.

“come on, little flame, i need you to come before i do, and i’m so close, you have no idea… can you do that for me? can you be a good girl and come for me?”

you could, and you did, letting out a silent scream when your second orgasm crashed over you, a little less intense than the first one, but mind-numbing nonetheless. your cunt pulsed rhythmically around his throbbing prick, feeling like heaven and hell for kyojuro, all at the same time.

“y-you feel so good, my love, coming so hard around my cock… oh, heavens i’m going to come soon too…” he knew he was probably overstimulating your used pussy, but he couldn’t help but blindly chase after his own rapidly approaching release. “tell… oh, fuck! please, tell me where, little flame, please…!”

you didn’t answer verbally, you don’t think you could have been physically capable, but his question registered sluggishly, and you mustered all of your remaining strength to lift your legs and cross your ankles at his lower back, pulling him flush between your legs; through half-lidded eyes, you saw his drooping stare become awake as the realization of your actions hit him. moaning brokenly as all he had left to do was rut desperately inside of you.

“a-ah! i’m going to come inside of you, little flame-e! going to make you mine forever, yes… f-fuck!” a second later, kyojuro made good on his promise, filling you with a release that felt so abnormally warm that it brought a shudder upon your wrecked body.

the next moments felt like a blur, like you were struggling to stay conscious, but you knew that kyojuro had resisted the temptation to give into post-coitum cuddles and instead stepped off the mattress and walked around the room.

“you did so incredibly well for me, sunflower,” he praised when he was back at your side, rubbing your cheek tenderly as you smiled drowsily up at him. “i’m going to clean us up now, and then we can sleep. we’ll sort everything out in the morning.”

you felt kyojuro go through the motions of aftercare, pliant under his gentle touch as he wiped sweat and cum off your body (you swear you feel him stare for a few seconds too long at the oozing mess between your legs). the rain didn’t sound as merciless at it had been coming down most of the evening, but the drumming of the droplets on the roof of the shed, coupled with your lover’s careful ministrations, were making a damn good concoction for dozing off.

somehow, you managed to remain conscious until after kyojuro had settled in bed with you, pulling you close to his sturdy and ridiculously warm body, but who were you to turn down the delicious snuggles he promised? with your face against his chest, his arms around your body and a hand in your hair, you finally succumbed to slumber while listening to the low vibration of his voice as he made sweet promises for the future.

“i can’t offer you the luxurious life you have been raised into, but i swear i’ll take care of you in any way i’m- oh…” the blacksmith chuckled, finally taking notice of your steady breathing a very much unconscious state, and decided instead to snuggle further into you. “it’s alright,” he mumbled, “tomorrow will be a day for planning.”

-----------------------

in the end, kyojuro hadn’t accepted your offer. well, at least not completely. instead of taking the job that had been offered to him by that nobleman acquaintance of yours, he thought it would be wiser to ask haganezuka to find him an employer that wouldn’t know of you or your family, and who still resided relatively close to his family state (because if something was for certain, it was that he had a lot of catching up to do with his own family, especially about you).

haganezuka, the blessing in disguise that he was, had managed to find the perfect employer in a scarily scarce amount of time and, the very next day, kyojuro had formally expressed to his soon-to-be previous boss that he would break their contract.

“settling down so young isn’t a wise choice if the goal in mind is to improve on your craft” had been the explanation given and, annoyed as he had been by the sudden notice, the governor had let the young rengoku go without much fuss.

you, of course, stayed at your family’s estate for a couple months after kyojuro moved out, because it would have been suspicious to time your escape at around the same time that the blacksmith had left; he had a reputation to uphold, and rumors of stealing away the daughter of a noble family wouldn’t do it any good. so, you waited, counting down the days with barely concealed excitement, and when enough time had passed, you grabbed the bag with your most prized belongings and left on a warm june dawn.

the letter in your vanity had been dedicated to your mother and sister, reassuring them that you’d be safe and happy and would always have them in your thoughts.

the summer sun beat down mercilessly on the engawa of kyojuro’s new workplace. it was a bigger shed, and despite not being surrounded by beautiful Japanese maples like the ones your former home had proudly displayed, the quiet forest, abundant in it’s greenery, proved to be a decent replacement.

kyojuro sat on the wooden platform, yukata a little loose on the chest to allow some of breeze to hit his overheated skin. he had been working all morning in the project that his new employer had left in his capable hands, so, he reckoned, a small break now that late afternoon had arrived was in order.

the sound of dull footsteps on grass interrupted his lounging.

“do you accept commissions?”

and kyojuro knew it in that moment, as you greeted him in the same peculiar way you had almost a year ago, that you were the only one for him.

“of course, my love! it’s what i do!”

and he was delighted to know that he was the only one for you.

“wonderful. i’d like to request a ring from you. actually, could you make them two?”

#kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer #kny smut #kny x reader #kny x you #kny x y/n #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku x reader #rengoku x you #rengoku x y/n #rengoku smut #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro smut #kny fanfic #demon slayer x reader

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darylbrainrot · 3 months

Text

Cold winters ᯓ★

Gojo x F! Reader (8.4k word count)

⋆ SYPNOSIS: you and a classmate get assigned to work on a project together only for your feelings to progress the more you work together.

⋆ INFO: fem reader, modern au, no curses, fluff, classmates to lovers, self-consious thoughts from reader, not proof read, gojo might be ooc, cursing.

You seemed to enjoy cold winters—the snow dusting the ground and creating a seemingly dream-like atmosphere. The only thing you disliked about these snowy times was the countless couples seeming to show up and appear out of nowhere. Shoving their relationships into your face (they were just holding hands) pointed out how you felt lonely with nobody to share your body heat in an attempt to keep warm in these harsh times. Yet your countless failed relationships or situationships confirmed your struggles to find someone interested in you as much as you were interested in them.

This was until a certain blue-eyed boy showed up in the equation; he was cute, of course. You thought nothing more of it, knowing that it wouldn't lead to anything. This was just wishful thinking on your part, believing you would have a chance with him despite the countless number of girls fawning over him—countless prettier girls than you thought.

You met him in one of your high school classes; you actually had him in most of your periods. Your 7th-period teacher has assigned a project with assigned partners, and you were assigned with him. You only had minor conversations with him; most of them were him asking you for help since he wasn't paying attention and was just messing around with his friends. Yet now you'd have to work with him both outside and inside of school to finish this project, which was worth a lot of your grade. You weren't really looking forward to it, thinking that you'd have to do most of the work with him slacking off, yet you still had hope for at least a decent grade.

December 4th.

"You guys will be working on a project with assigned partners; your partners will be shown on the screen, so get to work. This will be due at the end of the month and will be a big percentage of your grade." Your teacher says, You turn to the screen to look for your partner. Scanning through a list of names of your classmates, you find yours: "y/n & gojo." You read through your squinted eyes while trying to search for your name. You were hoping I'd be at least one of your friends from this period, yet you get someone known for being a class clown—someone who doesn't necessarily pay attention… You're hoping it wasn't bad. Being too caught up in your own thoughts, you didn't realize Gojo was making his way toward you.

"Heyyy y/n…" he said, with, of course, an alter motive clear in his voice. "yes, gojo?" You stare at him as he makes his way in front of your table while dragging a chair behind him and placing it in front of you. "You know I appreciate you and respect you, right?" He grins, batting his lashes at you. "Gojo, I'll do most of the work if you at least put some effort into it." You sigh at his antics, moving to put your check into the palm of your hand. "Deal!" he grins at you. "What's your number, y/n? I want to be able to text you if I need help on this project…" He grins at you once again, this smile of his always making your stomach turn. "Oh, uh, do you have your phone on you? I can just type it in if it's okay with you." He nods towards you, gravitating to reach for his phone to give it to you.

"Here you go." He passes the phone to you with the new contact page open already, going to grab his phone while typing your number into it. "Uh, if you have questions or anything, you can just text me. We should set up a day to meet up so we can try to finish this as early as possible so we won't have to worry about it later on." You look at him only to find his eyes already on you. "Is this a way of asking me out on a date?" He smirks at you. "You wish; I just want to get this assignment over." "Yeah, yeah, whatever." He frowns slightly, this action going unnoticed by you.

December 6th.

It was finally Friday. Thank the gods. You had finished a bit less than half of the project with Gojo only doing anything, yet it was Gojo. What did you expect? You dreaded going into your 7th period, knowing Gojo would just be bugging you for most of the period, barely allowing you to do at least some of the work to be considered on track. As your 6th-period bell rang, signaling that you should head toward your 7th period, you started to head toward your class, attempting to avoid other students who were just being loud in the hallway. A stark contrast to your character.

As you entered your class and headed towards your seat, you found Gojo already there, awaiting your arrival. You found him with his head down on the desk next to yours. As you got to your seat, you got your laptop and materials from your bag and placed them on your table. Only now do you realize the soft snores leaving Gojo. Realizing he is asleep, you try your best to keep quiet. This can at least allow you to do some work while Gojo keeps quiet.

As you pull up the assignment on your now-opened laptop, you notice Gojo stirring in his sleep. This was a sign for you to stop your movements, trying to keep quiet, although the whole class was loud— you were surprised at how Gojo can nap in such a loud environment. You kept your eyes on him for a while, looking for when he'd stop moving. As he stopped moving, you turned your eyes back onto your shared document with Gojo. When you decided to finish one of your slides that was half done, you were too focused on gathering your research and typing it down to realize that you were reaching the end of the period.

The end of the 7th period bell alerts you. At the end of this period, you start to pack your things away, only to still find Gojo asleep. You were at least glad your next and final period was a free one, finding this as an opportunity to finish other work and to relax for a while. But Gojo still had a period next; you attempted to wake him up to no avail.

"Gojo, wake up; it's 8th period now, and you're going to be late." You shake him only for him to finally stir in his sleep. "5 more minutes." His voice was groggy from his nap. "No extra minutes; you have to wake up." "I don't want to…" his head still in his folded arms on the desk. "Well, you have to; you literally have like… 3 more minutes to get to your next class, gojo." As you say that, he finally lifts his head off of the desk and looks at you with a pout. "Aren't you going to be late? Or do you care so much about me that you don't care about that?" he says as he makes fake kissing noises to mock you. "Okay, shut up, dude. I have a free period next, but I know you don't, so wake up and get going." He yawns as he stands up, grabbing his bag in the process.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he says as he drags the 'r. ' You start to head towards the door before Gojo beats you to it and opens the door for you. "Ladies first." He winks at you while you give him a deadpan look, and despite your seemingly reactionless response, you can't help but feel the flutter that's caused in your stomach. Your own body is sabotaging you.

"Thanks," you mutter under your breath as you exit the class. "Since today is Friday, would you want to go to a cafe to try and finish the project?" Gojo asks, with a slight tint of blush covering his face; this also goes unnoticed by you once again. "Sure, just text me when and where." You turn towards him with a slight smile gracing your lips as you turn back around to start heading toward your own destination. Once you turned around, you couldn't help but smile a bit more, knowing this was just a study session, nothing more and nothing less, but you still couldn't help but feel a bit happy knowing he was the one who asked you.

It was finally the end of the day, and you were feeling eager, awaiting a text from Gojo. Yeah, you felt a bit silly waiting for him to text you, but you're just a girl. What? Can't a girl dream anymore? Call it delusions or whatever, but you noticed your feelings growing over time working with him. His small mannerisms rubbed off on you so much that even your own friends noticed. A vibration from your phone caused you to snap out of your thoughts and look at the new notification, only to find it was from Gojo, speaking of the devil.

(xxx)-xxx-xxxx: hey its gojo, I was wondering if you wanted to meet up right now and go to the cafe that's a couple blocks down?

y/n: yeah thats fine with me, meet me in front of school?

quickly saving his contact, you await his response, only for him to respond in a matter of seconds.

gojo: c u there :)

You checked the time; it was 3:25 as you started heading towards the front of the school from where you were originally. Trying to get there slowly so you can find Gojo first rather than him finding you.

You finally exit the school doors and find Gojo leaning on the wall right next to the doors. As you start making your way towards him, he looks up from his phone to look at you. "you ready?" He asks, the sun hitting his tinted lenses, making his eyes barely visible. "Yeah, which cafe are we going to? I didn't know there was one nearby.." "We're going to this small cafe by here; it's pretty good, but I've only been there once." You nod as you start to follow Gojo towards the cafe.

On your way there, you had small talk; there was silence, of course, but it was nothing uncomfortable—you welcomed that silence because it was nice. After awhile, you noticed it started getting cold. You started to regret not bringing a sweater to school today, as the winters were getting colder by the second. You started to slightly tremble, wrapping yourself in your own hands to try to create the warmth that you so desperately needed. Gojo noticed this and decided to take off his sweater and hand it to you.

“Here, take it.” His hand was right in front of you, with his sweater in hand. You wanted to wear it, but, I mean, hell freeze to death as well. “I can't; you’d be cold too, Gojo." You turn to face him with worry displayed on your face. "Nah, I’ll be fine; you need it more than me—I mean, you're practically shivering. The cafe isn’t that far, and I don’t want you to get sick 'cause we have to finish the project.” At this point, you both stopped in your tracks. A sigh left your lips as you took his sweater and put it on.

You let out a barely audible thanks to him; it would go unnoticed by those not paying attention—yet Gojo's attention was all on you, yet you never noticed.

“This is the cafe; it’s pretty small, but I think it's pretty good.” He winks at you, flutters erupting in your stomach, yet you think nothing of them. Just you wishing they’d go away. He goes to open the door for you, muttering a soft thanks under your breath as you enter.

You felt warmth immediately welcome you in this cafe; it was homey; it was particularly small, with open space and windows at the front of the cafe, with a table right by the window. It had a light brown interior with darker brown accents, with paintings and pictures adorning the walls. This and the green plants and flowers that were all over the corners and counters. It was, honestly, a very pretty and nice establishment for one so small.

“This is really pretty gojo; where do we sit?”

“We can sit by the windows; it's a nice view outside, so I think it’ll be nice.” You hum in agreement as you make your way to the table by the windows and place your things down. “Should we go order now?”

"Yeah, lets just look over the menu first before hand.” As you both looked up behind the workers counter to find the menu behind them, you were trying to figure out what to order before deciding to order a matcha latte and a chocolate croissant. You turned your attention towards Gojo to see if he was still contemplating what to order, only to find him thinking extra hard about his decision, finding it funny how the only time he pays decent attention is when it doesn’t regard any school work.

“You decided what to get yet?” You asked Gojo, "Uhhh… I think I might get some kikufuku and a hot chocolate; what about you?”

"Uh, I'm just going to get a chocolate croissant and a matcha latte.”

You both start heading towards the registers to order, with Gojo saying both of your orders. As the cashier starts to read out the cost, you reach into your pocket to grab your wallet, only for Gojo to beat you to it, paying for both of your orders. After the transaction, you both returned to the table to wait for your order to be called.

“Gojo, why’d you pay for both of us? I could’ve paid for my half.”

“It's fine; I mean, I was the one to offer to come here, so it is only a man’s obligation to pay.”

"Let me pay you back at least; I feel bad making you pay for my half." You frowned, feeling bad that he had paid for your order. "The way you can pay me back is for us to finish the project." He has that shit-eating grin on his face, the one he has on his face while poking fun at others. You grunt in response, reaching into your bag to take out your laptop to continue with your work.

"I was able to get some slides done from my part today, but you're gonna have to do a couple of the slides from your part.” As Gojo was about to speak, he got interrupted by the person calling our order.

“Order for Gojo!”

“I'll be right back.” Gojo grins at you. Your eyes follow his person as he walks up to the counter and gets your orders. You can clearly see the cashier trying to flirt with him, trying to make any advancements toward Gojo. You were glad you couldn’t make out what either of them was saying; you knew if you could, you’d get upset. Do you know why? Yeah, it was because you liked Gojo; it was clear now, and you hated it. It would have been stupid to get upset at a girl trying to flirt with him; I mean, you both weren’t even together. But you understood her; he was handsome, and she was also pretty. You were thinking that if you were as pretty as her, if you were that confident, maybe you’d have a chance with Gojo. caught up in your own thoughts that left a bad taste in your mouth, you didn’t realize Gojo was making his way back towards you. You were too busy being spaced out and caught up in your own thoughts, thoughts that you so very much hated.

“You good, y/n?” You were still spaced out, too focused on the worker behind the counter to realize Gojo. He cleared his throat; that was the thing that managed to catch your attention. "Huh?" You say, now staring at Gojo.

"I asked if you were okay; you were spaced out." "Oh, yeah, I'm okay. Did you get our order?" He nods at you while passing you your order as he places his down on the table by his seat. He takes his seat across from you and takes out his laptop as well, getting ready to "do" some work. (He won't do work.)

"We can probably finish a couple of more slides today, so we won't be behind on our work. We should probably do about two slides each? I think that would be good enough so we won't be behind." He hums in agreement, reaching for his hot chocolate to take a sip from.

"What even is this project about?" He says, taking another sip of his hot chocolate afterward. Your face goes blank at his idiocy; you honestly can't believe he got so far in high school. I mean, you were seriously doubting his abilities as of now.

"Are- Are you being serious?" You attempted to hold back your laugh at his simple idiotic actions, yet your attempt is in vain. You're now full-blown laughing, not even trying to hide how hysterical you find his stupidity.

"Oh my god— you're so hopeless!" You're holding your stomach in pain from your laughter; you can't even contain the tears from falling. Those tears of laughter basically taunt Gojo for his lack of intelligence. "What? It's not that funny." He huffs in an attempt to heal his bruised ego.

"Okay, I'll stop. I'm sorry, Gojo." You still had that grin on your face, although you were 'apologizing' for your actions. "We're just doing a group project about ideas for a new software application. Like doing research on our idea, putting down evidence on why this would be a good software idea, and explaining how it would help others. We have a doc that the teacher shared with us; did you not see it?" You ask, still having a grin plastered on your face from making fun of Gojo's lack of intelligence.

He scoffs, trying to play off the incident that just happened. "Yeah, of course I did; I was just seeing if you knew what we were doing." He attempted to gather whatever there was of his shattered ego, clearly and very painfully failing at this attempt as well.

"uh huh."

You grin at his antics, finding them quite funny—and quite endearing as well.

"Okay, well, we should get to work. Ask me if you have any questions or anything else. You have the shared in the gmail I sent you." You say, followed by you taking a bite out of your chocolate croissant, savoring the sweet taste of it. Gojo hums in agreement as quietness follows, both of you—well, at least you—in deep concentration on the work in front of you.

You didn't notice how much time had passed until you checked your phone; it was now 6:50, and it's gotten way darker than it was when you got to the cafe with Gojo.

You sighed as you ran your hands through your hair with a small "shit" muttered under your breath. Gojo caught your disturbance and looked at you through his tinted glasses. "What happened?" You hummed as you turned your attention to him. You nodded to the window, showing how dark it had gotten outside.

"I just noticed how late it is, and I gotta walk home too. I think I have to go home now before it gets darker." Gojo stands as he notices you standing as well, wrapping up your items and placing them into your bag. Going to throw away your finished drink and food before Gojo cuts you from your tracks.

"Let me walk you home; it's too dark for you to walk alone, y/n." You turned to face him, finding his eyes already on your figure. "You honestly don't have to; I'll feel bad enough for making you walk me home while you also paid for me."

"You're not making me walk home if I offered." He has that smirk on his face, the one he always has on. "You don't have to gojo, like, honestly." "Well, I want to, so let's get going; lead the way." You grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder while grabbing your trash, as Gojo threw his a while ago. As you started making your way towards the door leading out, Gojo was there, holding the door open for you. Muttering a small thanks as you left the small establishment.

You started leading the way to your house; it was only about 10 minutes away from the school, so you started to head to your school and then to your house. Gojo is right next to you, him being the one that's closest to the road. As you reached the school, you realized you still had Gojo's sweater on, which he lent you on the way to the cafe. You felt a feeling crash over you, your cheeks growing a slight tint of color, although it was already flushed due to the cold—caught in your own silly thoughts of Gojo, all this because of a sweater he lent you. Just a kind action, nothing more, yet you can't help but be stuck in your own thoughts. You didn't realize Gojo caught onto your little actions—not your thoughts swooning over him, but your demeanor. Your reddened cheeks, being stuck in your own mind more and more often, and seemingly being in your own little world—in a kind and soft reverie.

His eyes were on you, hyperfocused on you and only you. Thinking you were some sort of angel only for him and nobody else, he knew that was false; you weren't his, but he wished you were. Time passed so fast with both of you stuck in a reverie of each other. You didn't even notice the fact you'd arrived at your home, only figuring you were there when you were right in front of your house.

You sighed as you saw the familiar figure of your home, signaling that you had no more time to spend with Gojo. Breaking the silence with you taking off his sweater and handing it to him.

"Thanks for walking me home, paying for my things at the cafe, and lending me your sweater, Gojo." A smile graced your lips as you recalled those events as you handed him his sweater back. Although they just happened today, you were already reminiscing about them. "Yeah, of course, y/n." You nod in his direction before remembering something.

"Text me when you get home, Gojo; make sure to be safe." He nods at your request before walking off to his house as you enter your own.

About 15 minutes later, you received a text from Gojo.

Gojo: i just got home rn

Gojo: i hope u enjoyed that cafe too

Grinning at his text was nice; although it was nothing special, it was nice knowing he remembered to text you when he got home.

y/n: i actually did enjoy that cafe a lot actually! it was nice, and again, thanks for paying for me

y/n: next time let me pay for both of us to make it up to u pls

Shit—you didn't mean to make that second text sound like that. Was that you coming off too hard? Does it make you sound desperate, wanting to have another study hall with him? Maybe he's going to find you strange for assuming there is going to be a next time? A thousand thoughts are racing through your mind at 100 miles per hour. You were getting anxious at what Gojo's reply was going to be; maybe he didn't see it like you're seeing it, and you're just overreacting.

Gojo: is this ur attempt at asking me on a date ;)

That fucking asshole, knowing him, this is a total him response.

y/n: fuck off bro, u wish i was

Gojo: yeah, i do wish u were asking me on a date.

Fuck. Is he being serious? Maybe you're just overanalyzing it; maybe he meant it as a joke, but that couldn't help your stomach erupt in butterflies. Suddenly, a confidence you didn't even know you had took over, deciding to play with this act of his cocky personality.

y/n: since im not asking you on a date, y dont u ask me on one instead?

Little did you know Gojo was going crazy behind his screen just like you; you felt like a teenage girl fawning over her first boyfriend. Gojo could be in the exact same predicament as well.

Gojo: hmmm, i guess ur right

Gojo: would u like to go on a date with me then, y/n?

You couldn't believe your eyes right now; things were happening way too fast. You couldn't even adjust yourself to how fast things were going. Well, technically, not fast, but seemingly fast enough for you to stress out.

y/n: sure then :)

y/n: lmk when and where?

Gojo: ill lyk then, y/n

You honestly couldn't believe your very own eyes. This felt as if it wasn't real, as if it was just one of your dreams where you got the boyfriend of your dreams.

December 16th

It was already December 16th, and you and Gojo had already finished your project. It was surprising, but you both started spending more and more time together after that study hall you had together. Today was also the date Gojo had planned; you were going to Gojo's house and watching shows, baking, and just spending time together. It was nothing big, but it didn't matter to you; as long as you were with Gojo, it felt like it was the best day.

You were getting ready for him to pick you up in his car; it was surprising when you first saw it until you remembered that his family was well off money-wise. You just wore some casual clothes, not trying to make it seem you were trying too hard. You were in your room waiting for Gojo's text, signaling that he was outside, ready for you.

Gojo: im outside :)

y/n: omw

You bid farewell to your family, telling them you'd be back later on and that you were going over to a friend's house. Leaving the front door of your house, you found Gojo waiting right in front of your house by the passenger seat, ready to open the door for you. As he saw you, he waved at you with a smile on his face.

"Thanks, Gojo," he said, smiling at him as he opened the door for you to take your seat in his car. He hums in response as he turns to go to the driver's seat. As the car sank with his added weight, he was making adjustments to the car's heater to make sure it was warm enough for the both of you.

A nice atmosphere filled the car as Surf by wave to earth was playing in the background, adding a calming sense to everything. It was a nice night out—cold, snowy, and calm. You hummed along to the lyrics, as this was one of your favorite songs by wave to earth. You remembered bringing it up to Gojo once; maybe that's why it's playing now. Maybe he remembered your favorite song and played it just for you.

As Gojo started to pull into the driveway of his house, he told you to wait in the car as he went to open the door. It was a cute action he took, always making sure to open doors for you—something you found endearing. As he opened the door, you thanked him for opening the car door for you.

"What do you wanna do first?" He asked, making his way to the front door with you following close behind him, making sure to walk carefully to avoid tripping on any of the ice. "Hmmm, wanna bake first?" you said, tilting your head at him, although he couldn't see you since his back was facing you. He hummed in agreement.

He went to the front door, taking out his keys quickly and opening the door, waiting for you to walk in first before he entered. Locking the door behind him and placing his keys on the small table by the door. Taking off his shoes as you followed suit and placing them on the shoe rack. You followed him as he showed you where the kitchen was.

"Do we even know what we're gonna bake?" smiling softly at the total clueless actions of the both of you, both of you getting too far ahead of the details in the excitement of today. "Oh, you're right." He deadpans, realizing his flaw in this plan.

"Uh, we can make brownies? I think I have a brownie mix around here somewhere." Scratching his head as he tries to remember where he last placed the brownie mix when he decided to make something sweet to tame his sweet tooth, only for him to figure out he was too lazy to make it for himself; he found this as the perfect opportunity to make it.

“Found it!” He exclaimed as his hand held the box of brownie mix. You smiled at his goofy antics—just anything he does you find cute. “What do the instructions say?” You asked Gojo as you rolled your sleeves up. "Uh, it's asking to preheat the oven to 350." He said, squinting at the instructions on the back while you hummed with his answer, you went to preheat the oven as he placed the mix down.

"What pan do we use?" You were asking as you started pressing buttons on the oven. "We can use this glass one." He said this as he was searching the cabinets for a good-sized container. Humming in agreement, you put the pan beside the oven. You went to grab the mix to read the next instruction. "We need two eggs, 1/4 cup of water, and… a half of oil. Could you grab me that?" He hummed as he went to the refrigerator to grab the eggs. Once he grabbed them, he placed them at the counter. He then grabbed the measuring cup, oil, and water and placed them beside the eggs.

"what's next?" He says this, looking over your shoulder, his breath hitting your ear. "We mix all the things together with the mix." Gojo hums going to grab a decent-sized bowl so everything can fit. Once he found one, he went back to you and placed it on the counter between you both.

"You get the eggs, and I'll measure out the oil and water." You said this as you started to pour the mix into the bowl. He began cracking the eggs on the counter and opening it above the bowl. The only thing he was doing wrong was getting a bunch of eggshells in the bowl. You caught him trying to take them out of your peripheral vision, so you turned your attention on him.

"Gojo, how did you manage to fail the most simple task?" A small smile was evident on your face, growing by the second into a full-blown smile, taunting him. "It's not my fault! The egg was being stubborn." He huffs, trying to convince himself more than you that the egg was why this happened. You sort of forgot Gojo was well off; that's probably why he's not that used to cooking for himself. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you big baby," you giggle at how he looks—as if he's trying to murder that egg for not "cooperating" with him.

After that, things went sort of smoothly. You guys put oil on the glass pan before spreading the brownie mix on the pan. As he was pouring the brownie mix into the pan, you were just watching him; he looked the most focused doing this. As if this is some really important life-or-death action—his tongue slightly sticking out, a habit you've seen him do more than once when he's deep in concentration. His brows were slightly furrowed, creating creases on his forehead between his brows, and his eyes were narrow and deep in concentration on the task at hand. Although he was doing the most basic task known to man, you thought he looked quite celestial to you, as if the gods had bestowed him on you and only you to view. As if he were an important painting made out of gold hanging in an art museum, only meant for your eyes to see and enjoy.

He noticed your quietness when he finished trying to spread the mix evenly. He thought maybe something was wrong, so he turned to glance at you. Only for him to find you staring deeply into his features as if he were food a starving man has been absent from. The thought of you being so caught in your own thoughts about him made him feel warm and flushed. His checks, proving this as a pink dusted his pale checks, adding some warmth to his features. He then turned back to the container of brownie mix he had long forgotten about when he caught you staring. He cleared his throat to try to calm down the sudden butterflies he felt just then.

This also seemed to snap you out of your thoughts as you turned your attention to the pan filled with brownie mix. As if on queue, the oven beeped to signal that it was done preheating and was ready for the dish.

"Are you done with the brownies?" tilting your head as you waited for his response. He let out a small "mhm" as if he didn't trust his own words right now. You went to grab the pan in front of him and placed it in the oven. You went back to your place next to him as you looked for your phone to place a 35-minute timer.

As you were going to grab your phone from its place on the counter, you dropped it onto the floor. You muttered a small fuck under your breath, wishing and praying it didn't leave any new cracks on your phone. As you went to bend down to grab it, you didn't notice how Gojo placed his hand on the counter corner to prevent you from hurting yourself on it.

"Ima set a timer for 35 minutes; you wanna watch a movie meanwhile?" Your phone is now in your hand as you stod up, looking for the timer app on your phone to set the timer on. "Sure, what type of movie?" He made his way to the living room as you followed him while setting the timer.

"Hm—how 'bout a Disney movie? You pick the movie, though." Gojo laughs at how you recommended a Disney movie. Sure, there's nothing wrong with that, but he expected you to say something like a horror movie; a Disney movie seemed out of character for you.

As you both sat down next to each other on the couch, Gojo started to scroll through the Disney+ account he had, looking through some options before he stopped at one. He picked Frozen to watch, and you weren't really surprised. You thought he gravitated to that movie because maybe he and Elsa were related; maybe they were both long-lost twin siblings.

As he clicked on the movie, he started to get himself comfortable on the couch; he seemingly fused with the couch. As the first couple of minutes started playing, you couldn't help but feel your eyelids get heavy and droopy. You felt yourself slip more and more into slumber, so you just laid your head on Gojo's shoulder to get more comfortable. You didn't think anything of it, but Gojo's mind was on fire right now, man. If you could look at him right now, his face was full of a flushed look just because of this small action.

Your breath started to slow down, your breaths becoming shallow, and Gojo realized you had given into your sleep. Gojo decided to get himself in a position where you wouldn't wake up with a sore neck and wouldn't be uncomfortable in your nap. Soft snores left your parted lips now, although you would've hated Gojo knowing you snore in your sleep. Gojo still can't help but find this cute and endearing. He felt almost proud? Proud in the sense that you felt comfortable enough around him to let your guard down and let yourself sleep on him.

A third of the movie passed when your alarm finally rang; you weren't awakened by it, though. Gojo reached for your phone and shut off your alarm as he slowly laid you down on the couch as he went to the kitchen to take the brownies from the oven. Once he came back from the kitchen, he found you sitting up, stretching your limbs as you yawned, rubbing your eyes after you were done with your quick stretch.

"How long was I asleep?" Your voice came out groggy with a light rasp to it, and your hair from the side you were lying on was slightly messy compared to the other side. "Like 30 minutes, I think? Maybe slightly less, but you knocked out after a bit of the movie." Gojo said as he made his way to you, sitting next to you.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Gojo." You yawned again, covering your mouth with the back of your hand. "Your fine, y/n. Are you still sleepy?" Gojo had a lopsided grin, and you clearly looked half awake. You hummed, and you scratched your neck. It seemed as if you just woke up from the best nap you've ever taken. Maybe it was the best nap you took. Maybe it was because Gojo was here with you.

"You wanna take another nap in my room? It'll be more comfortable for you."

"You sure? I don't want to intrude much."

"Why would I ask if I didn't mean it?" He chuckles. You always seemed to ask if he was sure about things he was clearly sure about. He stood up, waiting for you to follow him to his room on the second floor of his house. As you followed him close behind as he made his way up the stairs, once you reached his room, he opened the door for you. It was decorated with a light gray wash on the walls, wooden furniture adorning the walls for storage, and different-sized posters and paintings covering the walls. His room wasn't messy, but there were a couple of clothes piles on his floor. You felt as if his room was a great match for him and his personality, as if it suited him perfectly.

As you made your way to his bed, you shoved your face into his cold pillow, finding it comfortable and refreshing. "Hey y/n?" You hummed as you turned your head to face him. "Yeah?" "You wanna stay over?" You seemed stunned; you didn't really expect him to ask you that; you wouldn't mind staying over with Gojo.

"Actually?" "Of course, why would I ask you if I didn't mean it?" he smiles.

"Sure, I'll stay over, but I'm just going to let my family know." You reached into your pocket to find your phone to text your mom that you were going to stay the night at your friend's house. "Thanks for letting me stay over; your bed is way more comfortable than mine. I don't wanna let this opportunity slip by." Your voice coming out muffled due to your face being stuffed into his pillow again. You already claimed his bed even though it wasn't even yours. I mean, he was okay with it, of course; he's okay with anything if you ask.

"So you just decided to claim my bed?" "Hell yeah, this shit is way too comfortable to pass on, man." He grunts in reply, scooting you to the side as he lies next to you now. "What are you doing?" Your face is finally out of the pillow, and you are now looking at his face, which was staring at yours. "Well, this is my bed, is it not? I'm not gonna sleep on that floor, so you better make space on MY bed." You roll your eyes as your face goes back to laying on the pillow.

A few minutes go by before you start to slightly snore, your face facing Gojo. He felt like a creep; he was just staring at your sleeping figure, admiring you. Sure, it might seem creepy, but it wasn't intended to be creepy. He looked at your slightly parted lips, hair falling from behind your ear, how your chest went up and down with your breaths, and how you'd move slightly to get more comfortable every so often. He didn't even notice him dozing off into slumber as well, he was too focused thinking of you. You were on his mind as he was awake and now as he drifted to sleep.

It was now the next morning and gojo was the first to wake up. He woke up with you in his arms, he wondered if you noticed this too. He felt flustered as if he was just a prepubescent boy who just got their first girlfriend. He slowly removed his arms from your figure as he went downstairs to figure out what to make you and him for breakfast.

He knew he couldn't trust his cooking skills so he resulted to just order food for the both of you. He ordered you and him breakfast from some nearby fast food restaurant with a good breakfast. As he waited for the food to get here, you started to make your way down the stairs.

"Gojo?" Your voice comes out groggy and raspy. "I'm over here," Gojo says, his voice coming out loud so you can know where he is. You followed where his voice came from, finding him in the living room sitting down on one of the couches scrolling on his phone. He looked up from his phone taking in your barely awake appearance. "How did you sleep?" He asks, well based on your appearance you slept pretty well. "Hella good dude, your beds fucking comfortable." Yawning as you made your place next to him.

"By the way, I ordered some breakfast for the both of us," He tells you since he assumed that maybe you were hungry. "Really? Thanks, where did you order from?"

"I ordered from Dunkin', is that okay?" He hears an audible gasp from you. "Hell yeah, dunkin' breakfast is my favorite man." You had a grin on your face, clearly enjoying that he bought you food.

"What did you order?"

"I got you a sourdough sandwich and a matcha latte, is that okay?" That grin on your face only growing more, he assumed maybe because you liked the food he got you. "Oh my god, you're the best person to exist right now, that's literally what I always get." He laughs at this, glad he got you something you liked.

"I think the food should be getting here in like, 3 minutes?" Those 3 minutes went by fast as now you both were sitting in the kitchen enjoying your food. You looked as if you were starving by the way you were eating your sandwich, although you might've found it embarrassing how you were eating right now— he thought the opposite, he thought you looked quite cute.

As you both were finishing up your food and drinks, you thanked gojo for buying your food and persisted in paying him back. He, of course, denied your pleas. You sighed and gave up on begging him to let you pay him back.

You two were now relaxing in the living room, watching some random show on the television yet you two weren't really invested in it. You were both just having a conversation about anything and anything coming to mind. Amidst your conversation, Gojo brought up how you can just call him his first name, you agreed with this as you found it more fitting now. The room fills with both of your voices with occasional laughter erupting from both of you. Both of you clearly enjoyed each other's presence, whether it was quite or loud, you just enjoyed spending time with each other. As it became quite, you realized you should probably go home now. Sighing in realization you broke the silence.

"Hey Satoru, I think I have to head home now." You frowned slightly, not wanting to go home as you were spending quality time with him. Gojo hums in acknowledgment, feeling upset that he can't spend more time with you. Yet, he doesn't ignore the way his first name rolls off your tongue, as if his name was made for you to say. "Let me drop you off, y/n." You hum, knowing that if you protest, Gojo will ignore you. As you went to collect your things and put your shoes on, Gojo went to the garage to heat his car up. Once you were ready, you made your way outside to where Gojo was waiting for you.

He, of course, opened the door for you to enter his car. You told him your address as you were connecting to the speaker, which he told you to connect to. You decided to play Pyramids by Frank Ocean, a song you enjoyed and you were in the mood to listen to it. You were singing along to the lyrics as Gojo was too. You two were having fun, just singing together and talking when you weren't singing.

You finally arrived at your house when you thanked him and bid farewells to him, reminding him to text you once he got back home. You weren't sure how much time passed by when you got a text from Gojo telling you he was safe and sound at his place now. You were spending your time now sending texts back and forth to each other, texting turned into a call. Hours went by as you two were talking and laughing playing Roblox, making fun of some random kid, and praying your account wouldn't get banned the next day.

It was somehow night now, you both were still on call. You two didn't even realize how much time passed. You both basically spent the day with each other. Now here you are dozing off on the call together. It was cheesy, but it was cute. You liked spending this much time with him and so did he, he enjoyed spending this much time with you— he wished he could spend as much time with you as possible.

December 22nd.

It's been 6 days since your little date with Gojo. 6 days where you and him have gotten closer— his and your friends even noticing this. Teasing you both whenever they saw you together, which was most of the time. You both were basically inseparable, spending each available minute together. You spent so much time with each other that others thought you were already dating. Yet you weren't, yet.

You were now at Gojo's place once again in his room, lying in his bed as he was at his desk working on some homework he had for one of his classes. You were just scrolling on your phone trying to find something to do to cure your boredom. This was until Gojo started to spark a conversation with you. It was till the end of the conversation that Gojo finally found the confidence to ask you something.

"Hey y/n?"

"Yeah"

"I've been wanting to ask this for god knows how long because I'm so infatuated by you and everything about you. You make it impossible for me not to swoon over you, I've liked you for god knows how long, even before we started talking. You were just my hallway crush or something, but now, I want you to be something more. I just wanted to ask, I'm sure you got the gist of it but, could I be your boyfriend?" He's now sweating so much, you didn't even know it. He was flushed from head to toe, his palms were clammy, and he was on the brink of breaking due to his nerves.

While you, you were flustered. You knew that maybe eventually you'd end up dating, but you were still caught off guard. Who knew that your long-time crush was here confessing his undying love for you.

"Of course, Satoru. I've liked you too for god knows how much time, I was just scared to act on it. Although you were insufferable most times, that could never stop me from fawning over you at any given moment." You both now had a large grin on each other's faces, glad and released that you could get it out.

As of now, you both were on his bed enjoying each other's warmth and embrace. Talking to each other about anything that sprang to mind, you both were now in bliss realizing that you were both finally together. That you were finally his and he was finally yours, a thought that was always running through each other's mind.

December 31st.

You found it funny how just in a month, you got together. Well, of course, you talked before. But this month, it was more than before, you were constantly together. If not you were on calls, but on the rare occasion when either of you couldn't call— you'd be texting each other constantly. Spending each available minute together, something either of you wouldn't give up.

You two were now strolling around in the city, entering shops when you found something interesting that Gojo insisted on buying you. Hand in hand, gojo carrying the bags of clothes, trinkets, and items he bought you just because you spent a second too long looking at them.

You found it nice how the project was due at the end of the month, exactly tomorrow. Yet that project wasn’t the only thing that was progressing, it was also your and Gojo's relationship that went along as the days.

Now you were thinking that maybe that these cold winters weren't going to be as bad. Now you had someone to share it with, to be cold with, and to be warm with, you could be like those couples you were always envious and yearned for.

Maybe these cold winters will be enjoyable now.

masterlist.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fluff #jjk fluff

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autisticlancemcclain · 4 months

Text

“Pass me the — thing.”

“The thing.”

“Yes. The one.”

Hunk’s amusement is evident. “Here’s the thing about capital-T Things, Pidge Podge.”

She makes a face. Ugh, not him too. The annoying nicknames Lance comes up with always seem to end up in other people’s vocabularies. It’s the worst. (They don’t even make sense, either. Her name comes from Pascha, her Hebrew name, because she was tiny even when she was a baby. And Matt is ridiculous. But Lance’s names come from nowhere!)

(…She supposes she’ll allow it, though. Occasionally. Because she’s the best ever, basically, and endlessly benevolent.)

“Things in concept are referential,” Hunk continues, snickering to himself as he dodged her blind kick. “Ergo, you need to reference them. Specifically. Outside of your own brain.”

She makes a noise of frustration, tilting her head in the direction of the scrap pile on Hunk’s work table. “The thing! Shiny! With the— blegh!” She is Focused right now, alright. There are Processes happening in her brain. Words are secondary.

“I’m just going to ignore you now.”

“No! The thing! The thing that looks like a dreidel!”

“There we go,” he says emphatically. She scowls at him. He grins brightly. She holds her glare for a whopping three seconds, which is frankly record-breaking, so. Point to her. “That’s a referential Thing.”

He scoops up the piece and tosses it at her. She catches it without looking (which is wicked cool and something she will subtly mention next time she watches Allura drop something) and sets it on the table top beside her, finishing up a tricky solder. Leaning back to admire her handiwork, which is, indeed, quite handy, her gaze keeps getting pulled to the little part.

“You know, it really does look like a dreidel.” She picks it up by the stem, flicking the little acorn-shaped object and watching it spin. It works like one, too.

Hunk hums. After a few moments, curious at the air newly lacking the sounds of her tinkering, he looks over at her. He purses his lips thoughtfully.

“…What day is it on Earth, do you think?”

Pidge shrugs. “We left in late May. Been a few months, at least.”

“Lance has a watch.”

“Course he does. ‘Cause he’s a big ol’ nerd geek loser.”

Hunk snorts. “Indeed.”

At the same time, without either of them having to say a word, they scramble to their feet, abandoning their projects and rushing out the workroom door.

“Pool?” Hunk asks.

“Nah, training room. He was in the pool this morning.”

Neither of them is particularly fast, but after months of Shiro’s training they can handle their own. They don’t, sprint, per se, because that would be embarrassing and Lance would be all dorky and pleased about it (can’t have that), but they…hustle. Hustle would be the right word. There’s some hastiness about, some purpose to their step.

As they run past the kitchen and finally turn down the corridor to get to the training room, a door opens on the left and someone walks out. Hunk grabs the back of Pidge’s sweater (totally not Keith’s grey hoodie that she stole) to keep her from crashing straight into them.

“Hey, Lance,” Hunk says, smiling brightly. “We were just looking for you!”

Lance, predictably, gets all dorky and pleased about it.

“Well, Lancey-Lance is at your service,” he preens, brushing fake dust off his shoulders. “Of course I am happy to offer my services to such —”

“Why’d you come outta Keith’s room?” Pidge interrupts, squinting.

She’s pretty sure that’s Keith’s room, anyway. The door on the left has a dent on it from when Lance tripped and brained himself on it in their first week of space.

Curiously — oh so curiously — Lance turns a violent shade of red and cringes with his whole entire body.

“Whaaat,” he says, voice cracking so many times she actually winces in reflective sympathy. He laughs nervously. “That’s not — I’m not — Keith isn’t —”

He opens his mouth, then closes it, then coughs, then doesn’t bother. Pidge can actually feel the heat pouring off of him, which is so humiliating that she almost decides to be merciful.

“Is Keith also in there?” she says instead, because fuck that.

Lance looks at the floor like he’s considering swan diving onto it. “What did you guys need me for again?” he asks, loudly.

Hunk, too soft from years of close proximity to Lance, takes pity. “We need your watch, dude. What day is it on Earth?”

Lance’s dark eyes go a bit sad, like they always do when someone mentions the E-word. But it’s gone before Pidge can so much as register it, really, and then he’s glancing down at his dork ass bright blue Moana watch and saying, “One twenty-six on December 7th.”

Pidge cheers. Hunk grins.

“Clear your schedule!” Pidge shouts, pumping her fists. “Hanukkah starts in a few hours!”

———

“An…oil…feast?”

“Yeah!” Pidge says enthusiastically. Allura leans forward, intrigued — she loves stories from Earth. Anything from Earth fascinates her, really. “Thousands of years ago, Jews — my people culturally and religiously — had just freed themselves from the cruel rule of a kingdom that resided over them. They wanted to purify the Temple — that’s where practicing Jews go to pray — so they were burning holy oil. But there was only one bottle of sacred oil, which was upsetting, since that would only burn for one night. But miraculously, the oil kept burning for eight nights!”

Allura gasps. “But how?”

Pidge shrugs. “Religious Jews believe it was a miracle from God, who is our holy deity. Whether or not you’re religious though, Hanukkah is celebrated at the end of every year to commemorate Jewish resilience and hope. The oil is our physical way of celebrating, ‘cause it burned for eight days exactly — as long as it takes to make more oil.”

“And so we get to celebrate by eating delicious fried food,” Lance adds, fist-pumping. He grins at Pidge’s raised eyebrows. “My sister-in-law is Jewish, so my neice and nephew are too. We celebrate Hanukkah every year and it rocks.”

Pidge can feel her smile lighting up her body. There are bigger celebrations, and more religiously important ones, but Hanukkah is so much fun. She hasn’t celebrated in too long — it came and went last year before she even noticed, too wrapped up in finding her brother. And the year before that, her and Mom couldn’t…not without Dad and Matt. They couldn’t celebrate with just the two of them, they spent most evenings in their own rooms.

Shiro’s steady hand comes to rest on her shoulder, squeezing gently. She glances up to find him smiling sadly at her, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head.

“We’ll light a candle for each of them,” he murmurs into her hair. “Colleen, too.”

“Is that what’s done?” Coran inquires softly. “Candles lit, in remembrance?”

Pidge hums, leaning back into Shiro. He holds steady, hand staying fast on her shoulder. Keith flashes her one of his quick smiles, small and comforting.

“Yeah. Eight candles, in something called a menorah. One for each night, one for each intention.” She meets Coran’s eyes first, then Allura’s, her own expression determined. “We’ll light a candle for Altea, too.”

“I would like that,” whispers Allura, swallowing.

“I can make the menorah,” Hunk offers, “if you and Lance want to help. Lance has a good eye for design.”

Pidge takes a couple more moments in Shiro’s embrace, soaking up some of his strength. No one interrupts her. Once she feels like she can stand straight again, like her family is tucked neatly where they usually are in the centre of her heart rather than spilling out all over the place, she stands, patting Shiro’s hand as it falls away, and steps towards her friends.

“Yes, let’s do. We’ll need a few things, actually, to get ready. Keith, you think you can paint the right symbols on the dreidel if I describe them to you?”

He nods. “Yep. I’ll draw ‘em out first, it shouldn’t take long. I think I’ve seen them before, anyway.”

“Cool. Allura, Coran, you wanna put up some decorations? Lance can help you out.”

All three enthusiastically agree, rushing off to make do.

“Shiro —” She falters. “Uh, dude, maybe steer clear of the kitchen. Wanna help with the menorah since Lance is on decorations? Then Hunk’ll have more time to cook.”

Shiro pouts, as he always does when he’s teased about his cursed kitchen tendencies, but the twitch of his smile gives him away.

“I guess,” he laments. “I’m sure I could fry latkes without burning the castle down.”

Keith, Pidge, and Hunk shudder in unison.

“Yeah, right,” Keith says. “You remember when you set a pot of water on fire, Hazard Boy? Because I do.”

———

For people who have no idea what they’re doing, the decorations end up looking really nice.

Everything does, actually. By the time Lance’s watch hits six — the time they have all collectively decided will be sundown based on absolutely nothing — everything is prepped and ready to go. Keith got the characters down after a couple tries, and the dreidel looks like any other one Pidge has used before. Lance had, from what Pidge picked up from Allura’s grumbling, channeled his inner festivity dictator to ensure all decorations were as lovely as possible with their limited materials. Of course the menorah Hunk and Pidge created looks beautifully intricate, one of the more gorgeous things Pidge has ever seen even with all the wonky mismatched candles.

“Okay,” Hunk says, clapping his hands together. “If you guys want to set up the table, Lance and I will be finished plating the food shortly. I dunno about you guys, but I’ve been smelling fried food for a couple hours now, and I need to eat.”

“Please,” Pidge groans, because she’s been smelling it too and boy is Hunk ever a head chef.

Everyone rushes to get the table set as quickly as possible. Pidge makes sure to put Lance’s favourite cup (that he has a hissy fit if anyone else so much as looks at, even though it is practically identical to ever other cup except one tiny chip one the bottom that he loves for some reason) next to the chair closest to the door, where Keith always sits, because she has not forgotten the Earlier Incident. If all goes well then something embarrassing will happen for her to witness, which is all she can ask for, really.

“Can someone who is not Allura come help me bring food over?” Hunk calls from the kitchen as Pidge places the last fork. “No offense, Princess, but I watched you and Lance walk into the same door this morning and I’d rather our hard work not end up splatted and inedible on the floor.”

“Offense taken,” says Allura darkly, and Lance’ whining echoes all the way to where they’re standing.

Keith meets Pidge’s eye and snickers.

“I got it, Hunk,” he calls, jogging over to them.

“Absolutely not!” Lance screeches. “There is no way I will allow Mullet to be entrusted with something I am not allowed to —”

He cuts himself off with a loud shriek. Whether Keith finally pinched him quiet or Lance is just shrieking for drama’s sake Pidge will never know, but moments later the red paladin is striding out of the kitchen, heaping bowl in one hand, batting Lance away with the other.

“If you drop that I’ll kill you both,” Hunk promises, setting the heaping plate he’s holding down on the table.

Thankfully, nothing gets dropped (although does it ever come close). Everyone is accounted for and seated and nothing has gone to waste, and Pidge’s stomach is growling.

“Got a little bit of everything,” Hunk says. “Classic latkes, kugel, and sufganiyot. And you mentioned the zippoli and arancini your Nonna used to make, Pidge, so I made some of that too. And Lance made lots of masitas and plátanos.”

“Hope that’s okay,” Lance says, face kind of scrunched. “I know it’s not traditional, but we had it on Hanukkah, and I thought —”

Pidge grins at him. “Looks great, man.”

Everyone takes turns passing food around and loading up their plate. Pidge takes four zippoli. She regrets nothing. She has had none in several years and this looks perfect.

Before anyone starts, all eyes turn to Pidge, so she squeezes her eyes shut and remembers her mother’s blessing: “Barukh ata Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha’olam shehakol niyah bidvaro.” She opens her eyes again. “Dig in, everybody.”

No one needs to be told twice. For a while the castle is even shockingly silent, everyone too busy shoving their faces. Keith chokes on latke. Shiro laughs at him until the red on his face is from more than a lack of oxygen.

“I love human food,” gushes Allura, inhaling more plátanos. “You guys got to eat like this every day?”

“Unless you lived with someone who regular fucks up ramen noodles,” Keith says pointedly, dodging Shiro’s under-the-table-kick.

“I think Numbers Two and Three might just be talented in the kitchen,” Coran responds. Both Hunk and Lance beam at the praise.

After dinner — and lordy it does not take long to polish it off — they clear the plates away, tidying up the table, as Pidge sets out the menorah. She carefully sets out the candles they have gathered, arranging and re-arranging the order. When she’s satisfied, she picks up the smallest candle, thin green stripes running up its sides, and places it in the space at the far right. She picks up the shamash — choosing the thickest and tallest one — and accepts the lighter Keith offers her. Once it is flaming, she holds it outwards, and begins to softly recite the blessings she memorized so long ago:

“Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tsivanu l’hadlik ner shel Hanukkah. Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, she-asah nisim laavoteinu v’imoteinu bayamim hahaeim baz’man hazeh. Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, shehecheyanu v'kiy'manu v'higiyanu laz'man hazeh.”

She says the words slowly, carefully, allowing herself to feel the shape of them on her tongue. They are familiar. They are heavy. They get caught in her throat, tangled, and stay there until tears begin to trickle down her cheeks, softening the way out. Her voice shakes, but she feels her own strength spreading through her like the heat of the shamesh candle.

“Make it home to me, Matt,” she whispers, as she lights the first candle.

———

“Okay, there is no fucking way.”

Pidge cackles at Keith’s indignant protest, accepting Lance’s sharp high-five and dragging in the entire pot of tokens again.

The two of them are absolutely fucking killing it. Their token piles are high. Keith has had to begrudgingly ask Lance for a loan no less than six times. Everyone else is dangerously low, except for Coran, who’s doing alright.

Pidge thinks this is righteous. As the two youngest, she and Lance should be winning by birthright, basically.

“Suck it, Kogane,” she says gleefully. She flicks a token at him. “Take some charity.”

Keith scowls at her, but takes the token because he is too broke not to. It is greatly amusing.

Ha! Loser.

The game shouldn’t last as long as it does, but somehow it keeps going for hours. Pidge suspects Shiro has several dozen tokens up his sleeve and is cheating. Allura may also be using alchemy to make more tokens appear. Either way, Pidge and Lance’s hordes are steadily increasing, and the menorah has long since been blown out, and the food has settled in everyone’s stomach, and Pidge’s head keeps drooping.

“Think it’s just you and me, Pidge-Podge,” Lance says softly. Someone tucks her hair behind her ear, she’s not sure who. Her eyes might be closed. “What say you we call it a tie, huh?”

“There’s no tie in dreidel,” she argues. “We gotta finish.”

“I’m thinking we play again tomorrow,” Coran suggests. “I’m sure when you’re fully awake you can destroy Number Four much more efficiently.”

“Hey,” says Number Four in question, indignantly.

Pidge manages a smile. Keith sticks his tongue out back at her, and the next thing she knows there are arms around her waist and she’s airborne. She buries her face in a strong shoulder and pretends, secretly, it’s her father, even though she knows it’s not.

“Say goodnight, dork,” whispers Shiro. He pauses, adjusting slightly. “Oof.”

“You’re getting old,” says Keith gleefully.

“Respect your elders,” hisses Lance, accompanied by a swift punch to Keith’s shoulder.

“Ow!” Keith complains, but interestingly he only pouts at Lance instead of maiming him. “It’s Shiro! He’s not even an elder, he’s six! You —”

“Goodnight, Pidge,” say Hunk and Allura, loudly.

Pidge smiles. Her voice is half-buried in Shiro’s shirt. “Night.”

She doesn’t remember the walk to her room, but she feels it when she’s laid down, when blankets are fluffed over her and a kiss is pressed to her forehead.

“Sleep well, Katie,” whispers a voice, and the cool metal of the fingers brushing her hair are soothing. “Love you, kiddo. Happy Hanukkah.”

She falls asleep the the click of her door closing and a warmth burning hot in her heart.

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