#after a tiny moment of contrition

[dark-and-kawaii]

Daughters

Raphael x F!Tav/Reader

Haarlep x F!Tav/Reader

⋆˙⟡♡ Summary: Two separate little stories for Raphael & Haarlep being parents!!

⋆˙⟡♡ Notes: Purely self indulgent!! I just really love the thought of them both being parents okay! Especially Haarlep!!! I brought back Impsy from a previous story as well for Haarlep’s story!! Enjoy xoxo

⋆˙⟡♡ Parenthood | Dadphael | Fluff | Haarlep As A Parent ♡

Prt 2. - Prt 3.

Raphael

Raphael tended to his duties amidst the solemn quietude of his archive. Engrossed in the scrutiny of a newly inked contract, the rustle of hurried steps reached his ears. With a practiced motion, and without a glance away from his script, he caught hold of his daughter's tail as she attempted to dart past.

The abrupt interruption of her sprint sent her tumbling, "gah!"

"Pray tell, to what urgent destination are you racing?" Raphael inquired, his attention steadfast upon the curling letters of the contract.

"Nooowhere..." came the sheepish, drawn-out reply.

Raphael's voice, still calm and measured, carried a note of paternal admonishment, "Venture not too far, and refrain from such reckless haste within the archive. These relics are delicate, their histories irreplaceable.”

The little devil, a mischievous glint in her eyes, nodded slowly, her tail now still in her father's firm but gentle grasp. With a reluctant sigh, she straightened up, her posture mimicking the elegance she so often saw in her father.

"Sorry, father," she said, her voice a mix of feigned contrition and lingering excitement. "I'll be more careful. But, um, can I ask you something?"

Raphael finally lifted his gaze, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that belied his calm exterior. "Of course, child. You know you may always speak freely."

She shuffled her feet, the earlier urgency replaced with a sudden shyness. "Yoooou are going to meet with a client later, and I... I was wondering if maybe I could watch? I promise I'll be silent and still as a statue!"

A small, knowing smile crept onto Raphael's lips. "A client, you say? Very well. You may observe, but under two conditions: You shall not interrupt, and you shall learn. There is much to be gained from understanding the art of negotiation and the binding of contracts."

Her face lit up, a beaming smile cutting through her attempts at decorum. "Yes, father! Thank you! I'll be the best statue you've ever seen!"

Raphael released her tail, and with a gentle push, he encouraged her toward the door. "Go then, prepare yourself. But remember, should you break your promise, there will be consequences. We are, after all, a family of our word."

The Apple of his eyes nodded vigorously before darting off, this time with a skip rather than a sprint, her excitement barely contained as she vanished from the archive.

Raphael's eyes returned to the contract before him, the smile lingering a moment longer before the mask of the composed dealmaker settled back into place. He placed it down on the table so he could focus on you, the mother of his heir who slept soundly at his side on the opulent sofa, your head resting upon his lap as he stroked your head. His gaze shifted to the crown of karsus, the brown irises tracking its form, “A family of our word, indeed."

Haarlep

The day arrived when the cries of a newborn half demon echoed through the halls. Haarlep approached the cradle, where a tiny creature with horns just sprouting from its head and a mischievous glint in its eyes lay. The tiny creature a perfect mix of you both. The incubus's heart, though not often given to warmth, swelled a tad with a strange pride.

"Ah, my little impling," Haarlep mused aloud, a smirk playing across their lips. "How I long to see the chaos you'll unleash."

It didn’t take long, Haarlep could barely believe their child was growing so fast…

"Come now, offspring," Haarlep spoke with a softness no one would believe they possessed. The incubus opened the curtains to your room, the moon casting down upon the city, "You see this world? It's yours to play with, to bend and to shape. I will teach you the art of emotional manipulation, to dance with the hearts of mortals as one plays the lyre." The child clung to their parents leg, its tiny tail giving an excited twitch, Haarlep could only grin.

“Haarlep~” You sung their name, catching your lovers attention.

“Hm?”

You crossed your arms, your infamous imp, Impsy, standing next you, doing the same with an arched brow. A subtle smile crossing your features, “…She’s 3…”

“You are just no fun, are you?”

As the child grew, it became clear that she was indeed Haarlep's progeny, causing minor chaos with a mere giggle, and using her innate powers to toy with the emotions of those around her. But Haarlep's teachings were not yet complete.

"One must never be alone, my little tyrant," Haarlep instructed one evening. "Tonight, you will summon Impsy. A loyal playmate for all your days."

Their child, eager and wide-eyed, nodded and began to chant under Haarlep's careful guidance. The air shimmered, and with a pop, a small imp appeared, its face unamused with its little foot tapping on the ground.

"Hells…” Impsy held the bridge of its nose, “I can’t believe there’s two of you now.” The imp shook its head, “But I mean look at her!“ Impsy’s eyes sparkled wide as it walked up to the tiny little halfbreed, pinching her cheek, “Awh she looks perfect as always! Let’s thank the gods for Tavy’s good genes-“ Impsy smirked at Haarlep, “would’ve been a shame if she got your looks!”

Haarlep watched, a proud smirk etched on their face, as their child and Impsy ran off to pull their first prank together. The bond between them was immediate since her birth, and the imp proved to be a fitting companion for the young thing.

Time passed, and the little half demon grew bolder, often attempting to slip away to explore or cause mischief beyond Haarlep's or your watchful eye. On one such occasion, the child tried to race out of the room, her tiny tail swishing excitedly behind her. With a swift movement, Haarlep's foot came down upon the tail, causing the little demon to tumble onto her rump.

"And where do you think you're going?" Haarlep asked, his tone playful yet stern, the smirk on his face belying his true delight in the little one's antics.

The child pouted, looking up at her father with a mix of annoyance and admiration.

"To explore, to play!" She exclaimed, her eyes shining with the promise of trouble.

Haarlep chuckled, lifting their foot. "Tut, tut. Patience my little one." Haarlep’s mind reflects back to when they were gifted to Mephistopheles… Then Raphael… The incubus’s features twisting at the memories. They wouldn’t allow such a fate for their offspring, “I shall join you, we’ll play a little game! Together! In the city with all those fools.”

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #haarlep #raphael the cambion #haarlep the incubus #haarlep x tav #haarlep x reader #raphael x tav #raphael x reader

[billthedrake]

PRE-FROSH (CHAPTER TWO)

This story is a sequel to "Dad's New Life."

We were just playing video games, enjoying the Sunday afternoon hanging out in my brother Connor's room in the SigEp house. Connor was even beating me, but I could tell he was in a pissy mood. And I had a good idea what was bugging him.

"I'm gonna hit up Daddy Mike later," I said, addressing the elephant in the room.

I heard my big brother's deep sigh. "Dude, you gonna spend your whole fucking weekend with that guy?"

I paused the game. I got along great with Connor normally but things had been building up all weekend. "Bro, what the fuck?! You want me to go to some stupid art museum with you or something, I'll do it. Otherwise, yeah I'm gonna go get laid." It was a dumb outburst and more than a little ungrateful, because Connor was the one putting me up for the long weekend. I'd been clamoring for some time away from my tiny hometown and some independence from my parents. I should be grateful to my brother.

My brother let out an annoyed sigh. Not to sell myself short, but my older bro got the looks in the family. Dirty blond, green eyes, dimples that set off his smile. I had some of that but looked more like a regular jock, not a heartthrob movie star. Moments like this, when Connor got pissy, were the only time he lost his handsome attractiveness.

"You know Mike's just a slut, right?"

I was getting annoyed now. "Yeah, fuck, I know," I growled. "I don't fucking care. At least he doesn't treat me like a kid."

"He's too busy robbing the cradle," my brother shot back. "Dude's older than Dad."

Jesus, this weekend should be about fun. And it was fun. Hanging out with my big brother, experiencing fraternity life, enjoying a real college party, and getting majorly laid. I'd gone over to Mike's condo for a quickie session Saturday afternoon, and Jase didn't say anything. But now that I was sharing morning texts with Daddy Mike and planning a repeat, his mood had turned.

"You've done him, too," I replied.

Connor was silent now. Maybe I couldn't have my cake and eat it too. I'd either be an honorary bro for the weekend, the prefrosh, or I'd be listening to my dick.

Sex with a man, an older man, was a new toy, and I was enjoying the hell out of it. It was almost addictive. Well, no "almost" about it. Still, I didn't want to relent on the prefrosh experience. Even if my brother had a date that night, it would be cool to hang out with the brothers, get high and watch dumb TV.

"I'm sorry, Connor," I said. My voice more contrite. "I'll hang out here at the house. I know you promised Mom and Dad you'd watch me."

Now my brother seemed to change attitude. He looked over at me with a look of sympathy, or understanding. "You into him, Jase?"

I shrugged. "I dunno, man," I tried to explain. "I know it's nothing real, but you know, after hiding myself through high school, it feels real nice to be with a man without any hang ups."

Connor smirked. "My little bro getting a little crushed out?" Maybe the understanding was gone, replaced by the need to tease me.

"Crushed out on a fucking 51 year old," I laughed. "So fucking stupid."

Connor nudged my arm, letting me know it was OK. "How bout this, Jase? I have my date tonight. You can go over to Mike's. Just be back by 10 or so."

I normally hated when Connor would get bossy with me, like he was my fucking parent, but I knew he was responsible for me. This seemed like a good compromise.

I probably had a dumb smile on my face when I picked up my phone to text Mike. We set up a time for me to come over.

And yeah, the man wrote some pretty lewd shit about how he was gonna take care of my dick.

****

The rest of the day was normal. Connor took me to the university gym as a guest and I had a good workout. When we got back, Connor got ready for his date - some sorority girl he met a couple weeks ago - and I realized I kind of was doing the same, showering and slicking my hair down with product. I had only casual lax-jock clothes but I figured Daddy Mike wouldn't mind. But fuck I wanted this to be a date, even if the guy was a man whore.

I did stop on the way and pick up some flowers, and Mike had a big grin when he opened the door to see me standing there with a fucking bouquet.

"Great to see ya, kiddo," he grinned, leaning in to give me a quick peck. I'd been scrolling through his social media and saw Daddy Mike used to have a mustache but now seemed to sport a continual stubble flecked with silver facial hair. And while he had a military-short buzz cut for a while, he was growing out the salt-and-pepper hair in an almost professional-banker cut, which was slicked down with product.

"For me?" he said looking at the flowers. "That's sweet buddy." He took them and then showed me inside.

I needn't worry about dressing casual. Daddy Mike had on some sweatpants that clung to his meaty ass, as well as one of his faded Chicago Bears T-shirts. I knew he was freshly showered by his damp salt-and-pepper hair and the fresh cologne smell he had.

"I like your cologne," I said as I followed him into his open plan kitchen, where he rifled through the cabinets to pull out a vase for the flowers.

Mike flashed me a grin and told me the brand. "You wouldn't believe how many guys tell me it's the one their fathers wore... it's like fucking pheromones."

When Mike had first dropped the dad-son idea with me, it kind of weirded me out, but in the course of two days I realized I was kind of getting into it. I still didn't want to fuck my actual dad or anything. But I loved how the incest idea amplified the age difference between me and Mike, and yet somehow made an emotional connection out of pure, tawdry sex.

Still, I had to ask. "Do a lot of guys you meet have Daddy issues?"

The guy placed the bouquet in the water, arranging it quickly in the vase. "Not all, but a lot do. It's fun," he said.

Part of me was self conscious he'd try to figure out if I put myself in the Daddy Issues category, but he didn't seem fazed either way. Instead, Mike stepped up to me. We were pretty matched in height. I had an inch or so on him, but he was of course bigger, beefier, and more muscular. His hands felt great on my waist as he pulled me gently toward him. "High school kid isn't as shy now is he?" Mike teased.

I felt the warmth of his body and yeah, I was getting fully hard. "Nope," I said, now taking the initiative to reach behind and dig my fingers beneath the waistband of his sweats. Unsurprisingly Daddy Mike wasn't wearing underwear and I felt the hard hairy brawn of his ass. Mike had a crazy big ass.

"Go right for the prize, buddy," Mike grinned and leaned in for a kiss.

Fuck, this guy knew how to push my buttons. Nothing tentative about his kiss, Mike was eagerly sexual and yet knew how not to go full charge with the tongue. Instinctively, I knew he was waiting for me to take charge of the kiss, so I did. I groped this 51-year-old's ass while we made out in the kitchen.

"Fuck before dinner?" Mike finally asked in a growl. He'd offered to feed me take out pizza, but indeed sex seemed more appealing just then. I nodded.

And like that we were making our way to the bedroom. Mike peeled off that beat up T and tossed it into the corner. "Almost didn't put on clothes today," he smiled, and then I watched him pull his sweats down over his thick boner, showing off how hairy his crotch and legs were.

I was feeling overdressed, catching up in stripping off my clothes as Mike pulled the covers down on his bed and climbed on, his big muscled body making the mattress dip slightly. There was a big industrial sized pump container of lube next to the bed, along with a vial of what I knew to be poppers. But mostly my gaze was on this hot stud and the way his eyes seemed to me eat up. I may have been the fucker, but Mike was the hunter and I was his prey. I was A-OK with that.

"I bet you're gonna go wild when you get back to your hometown stud," he said as he watched me push down my briefs, freeing my large hardon.

"I wish," I said. Maybe this is one thing that drew me to the man. How he encouraged me, let me think I could be balling any guy I wanted. My dick jerked hard at the idea.

"Trust me," Mike hissed. "A dick like that... and that fucking body. You're jacked as hell for 18."

"Thanks," I said. A conceited part of me knew I was a hot jock, and I certainly put in a LOT of work to build my body. But the no-nonsense complement was so different than the way buddies and I complimented each other.

I got on the bed and crawled on top of Mike's reclined frame. He welcomed me and once again, we were making out. I don't know how I learned bedroom technique, but I knew to take our time. I took charge of the kiss now and made it nice and slow, feeling up Mike's body and humping him gently. He loved that, and I felt a wild satisfaction that I was being a skilled lover with a man this experienced.

Daddy Mike had a goofy grin when I finally broke the kiss and leaned up to admire his handsome face.

"What?" I asked, with a chuckle.

"I dunno," the man said with almost a shyness. "I just... well, I've met my share of lacrosse jocks, and usually they don't have the smooth moves like you."

That made me hard as fuck. My dick twitched and leaked against his hardon. "Yeah?" I growled.

Mike nodded. "They're usually more hard charging in bed," he said.

I thrust into him and gripped his chest with one hand while I held my upper body up with the other arm. "Oh, I can do hard charging," I teased.

"I bet you fucking can, Pre Frosh."

With a determined move, I kicked apart Mike's legs with my own thighs.

"Fuck YEAH!" Mike growled.

I gave him the lustiest look I could before turning to reach over to pump out some lube. I thought of Connor's taunt earlier, than Mike was a slut. He certainly had the bedroom set up like he took on many men, regularly. But as I slicked my cock up, I didn't care. If I was getting a whore, I was getting one for free.

Mike was now doing some of the work pulling back his legs for me.

I looked down. Here was a man almost three times my age, about 230 pounds of beef splayed out for me. I could see Mike's hole. Crinkled, definitely used, a little gape to it.

I wanted to eat it. I'd never rimmed of course, but I'd seen it plenty in porn and figured the guy could tell me if he didn't want me to eat him out.

Only as I crouched down and nestled my nose in his crack, I heard a soft "hell yes, kiddo." I stuck my tongue out. The whole didn't taste of much, mostly a little of the soap Mike had used in his shower. I licked around the ring and decided I was into this, a LOT. His daddy hole was warm and inviting and practically sucked my tongue in. I pushed forward, prodding into his more tender membrane just inside. Pure clean male hole. I wondered what the dudes on the team would say if they saw me now. I used to be afraid and ashamed of being a homo, but now I wished they could watch. The wilder I went, the deeper Daddy Mike's grunts got. This was hot, nasty sex. Men's sex.

I didn't want to extend the foreplay too much the first time out, but I took my time. And when I pulled back I wiped my chin and looked up to see the sex-dazed expression on the man's face.

"Damn stud," Mike said. "You know hot to eat a cunt."

Everything about Daddy Mike's lewdness was making me turned on to stuff I never would be. Like the c-word.

"You got an incredible cunt, Daddy."

"It's yours Pre-Frosh."

I grinned and scooted into place. The fucks before had been quick ones. I mean, there was something special about losing my assfucking cherry to this man, but I already knew this mating session was going to be special. I lined up my slick rod to that slightly puffed, gaping hole and let it nestle in the indentation.

"I'm gonna be jock-fucked aren't I?" Mike was definitely a talker.

I tried to go along with the sex talk. "Well, you're a slut... so yeah."

I immediately regretted saying that once I did, though.

Thankfully Mike just chuckled. "You like sluts, Jason?" He seemed to call me everything but my real name, so it came as a surprise.

"Maybe," I grinned, glad he wasn't taking offense. Then, more assured. "Yeah."

Mike kept some of his lusty smile but his eyes swept up and down my body. "18 and hung as fuck... goddamn."

I pushed into him. The slut hole was not tight but it didn't clamp down some as I entered him. It was exquisite, warm and wet. "I'm not the biggest you've taken, am I?"

He shook his head. "Let's say top 5, kiddo. You're really fucking big." Then he added, "Your brother, too."

That made my nostrils flare. Mike could tell my reaction immediately.

"You got the hots for your big brother?" he asked. That no-nonsense lewdness going straight to my balls.

"I dunno," I answered truthfully. "Fuck!"

Mike reached up and touched whatever parts of my body he could reach in our position. "Would be so hot to be tag teamed by you two," he growled.

Fuck, I wanted this. Wanted to nail this hot beefy daddy. I shoved my cock deeper in, slding into Daddy Mike's depths.

"There ya go, Pre Frosh.... hit that fucking spot."

"Your ass is amazing," I said.

"Hold it stud," Mike hissed, wincing some at my size. "Fuck you're a big boy." I watched that muscle bunch and flex as he twisted his body to pick up some poppers. I held still, buried deep inside him as he took one hit, then another on the other nostril, plus one more for good measure. He set the bottle aside then nodded. "OK, buddy, go for it."

I started fucking him. I realized he didn't have the warm up like the the other day in the frat house and our Saturday morning hook up had been all oral.

We were making up for that now. I put more energy into my thrusts, getting into it, getting into the thrill of dominating this hot fucker.

Mike was still in encouraging mode. "God you're fucking huge.... fuck me man.... That spot is yours, kiddo. All yours. Yours and your brother's."

That made my nostrils flare. No poppers needed.

"That turn you on, Jase?"

I nodded, afraid that if I answered aloud I'd cum. I didn't stop my fuck but I slowed it just a litte, trying for slower deeper pumps.

"You both got amazing dicks," Mike teased, "But you're a hotter dude." He was holding on to my hips now, pulling me in with each pounding thrusts. It must have felt hard on his guts, but I was too into this, and Mike wasn't asking me to stop or ease up.

He watched intently now. His own prick was rock hard but all of his attention and energy was focused on me. Looking up pleadingly as I railed him. "Hot firecracker of a top... just 18 too... fuck," he hissed.

I felt like the studliest guy in the world just then.

"You getting ready to give me that load, kiddo?"

I nodded. "Yah. Fuck." My hips had lost that determined hard pace and now were just going back to fast and furious.

"Get it Pre Frosh. Get it right in Daddy's hole."

That did it. "Shit!" I yelled. I was cumming and the excited smile on Mike's face made me cum even harder. My whole body spasmed and jerked over him as he watched me orgasm. I felt almost embarrassed at how out of control I'd gotten. Then proud.

I finally smiled as my hips stopped and I caught my breath. "Can I get you off, Mike?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Later. I'm hoping there's a later," he winked.

"Yeah, there's a later," I assured him. I told Connor I'd be back around 10, but there was still plenty of time.

We both watched as I slowly pulled out. My dong was no longer erect but it had a lot of hardness still as it cleared Mike's ring and plopped out heavy and wet.

"Hot," he said. "You're a better fuck than your brother too."

I thought I'd be upset at the constant comparison to Connor, but I was actually eating it up. "Yeah? That's cool," I said.

"Ready for some food?" Mike asked as he slid his body out of bed. "You earned it, fella."

I took up Mike's offer for a shower while he ordered some pizza. When I dried off and stepped back out into the master bedroom naked, the man was dressed back in his sweats and Bears T-shirt. And he had a pair of football shorts in his hand.

"These should be your size, fella," he grinned.

I'd worn jeans so something to lounge in was welcome. I had a feeling we'd be fooling around again soon.

I took the offering and slipped them on. "You carry spare shorts for your dates?" I laughed. Not accusing, more amused.

He nodded. "You bet I do, stud. Lots of dudes want a Daddy Mike souvenir. They're yours to take if you want 'em."

I decided not to bother with a T-shirt. Mike was still chubbed in his sweats and his eyes were very approving as he sized up my younger build in the shorts. If the fuck hadn't been enough I was very glad I'd come over.

The Bears game was already on the big screen TV, muted, though as we sat on the couch, Mike picked up the remote and turned up the volume. "Hope you don't mind, Pre Frosh, but this is always part of Date Night on game day." He leaned forward and pulled a tall can of beer toward him, opening the tab and nodding to a matching one in front of me. "You strike me as a beer dude..."

"Yeah," I grinned, glad for the offering. After the hot sex it was the perfect thing. This wasn't the watery shit they served in the SigEp house either.

In a strange way this was a perfect date with another man. I placed my arm around Daddy Mike's beefy shoulder and felt his warm body accept my embrace. I followed football and was a Bears fan, but Mike was a fanatic. Screaming, yelling at half the botched plays and the ref calls. Getting red in the face even. It was adorable.

The pizza came, and we ate silently, watching the game, talking during the commercials. I hadn't realized how hungry I was but I scarfed that shit down. Mike made a good dent, too. He got us another beer. We watched more football. The Bears took the lead.

Maybe it was the proximity to this stud of a daddy. Or maybe it was just my natural recovery time doing its work. But I began boning up.

Mike noted and leaned into me, giving me a smirk. He pulled out his phone.

"Selfie?" he asked.

I got a deer in the headlights look. I thought of my parents finding out. Or my lacrosse buddies. "Fuck, man, I can't," I said.

He smiled. "Don't worry, Jase, buddy... no faces. Promise."

I relented. I sure as hell hoped I could trust this guy. I thought of Connor's own suspicion of Mike's motives. "OK."

He pulled the phone up to a classic selfie distance and snapped a pic. "This might just be for my personal collection," he said. Then he reversed direction and aimed it at our crotches. Mine particularly.

"I just like showing off when I find a hot stud," Mike said.

I'd scrolled through his Insta. The man was being understated now. There were a fuck ton of young dudes posing with Daddy Mike. But I felt proud to join the ranks.

During the commercial he fiddled with his phone and then showed me his latest Twitter post. "Game day Date Night with Pre Frosh," the caption read. And sure enough the pic was of my boned up crotch, my long thick ridge pushing up the material of those Bears football shorts.

"Fuck," I said.

"I can delete it," he offered.

"Fuck no," I replied.

The made him grin. "You shouldn't hide a dick like that for sure. Top five," he reminded me. "Midwestern boys are hard to beat."

I basked in the compliment. My hardon wasn't going away, but I enjoyed the feeling of being hard around this guy without the urgency of getting off just yet. I knew it would come.

We settled back into the game and pretty soon the second quarter was drawing to a close. Even before halftime came though, Mike pressed the screen of his phone, then handed it to me. It was recording video, I could see. "You're the cameraman, kiddo," Mike growled.

"For what?" I asked.

"Guess," he winked. And like that he got off the couch and got down in front of me. I spread my legs to give him room and then after a second of surprise aimed the phone to capture Daddy Mike looking up, lewdly pawing my crotch before pulling the elastic over my hard dong. I was long enough that my cock had been constrained diagonally in the shorts, but now it jerked up to a full standing position off my light treasure trail and abs. I knew I was hung, and Mike had been reminding me of that fact, but damn... watching myself on the phone camera, with Mike's face leaning into lick me, I looked big.

I recorded Daddy Mike slow teasing my prick then taking me into his talented mouth. You could even see the Bears game in the background as I started to get a blowjob. It was hard to hold the phone steady as Mike went further down on me, but I did my best.

It was four minutes of glorious head. Thankfully our fuck earlier had taken the edge off and I could enjoy the silky wet sensations of his mouth and throat working me up and down as well as the thrill of seeing him struggle to deep throat me at one point.

He finally pulled off and let my big cock slip out wet between his lips. "OK, kiddo..." he said. "You can turn it off."

I nodded and Mike gingerly slipped my shorts back on, tucking my hard dong back into its diagonal position and patting my thigh before standing up. "Save the rest till later?" he asked.

"Yeah," I nodded enthusiastically. "That was hot," I said.

"I'm glad fella," he said looking down on me. "Gonna go piss.... need anything?"

I wondered if I should ask for another beer, but I was still working on the second and didn't want to get too drunk. We had more sex ahead and I really wanted to enjoy it to it's fullest. "Nah, I'm good. Thanks."

Halfway through the third quarter, I felt my phone buzz. It was a text from Connor.

"Hey Jase. Date was a fucking bust. Stay out as long as you like. Sorry I was an ass earlier."

I smiled. Me and my brother could butt heads sometimes but we could also be tight as good buds, too.

I looked over at Mike, who was engrossed in a challenged ref call. I thought of what he'd said earlier. It was a crazy idea, but deep down I knew it would be a blast if Connor went for it.

"If you feel like coming over, I'm sure Mike could take care of you," I typed.

"Ha, that'd be weird," Connor wrote. The tough thing about text is you can't always tell what someone is thinking.

"Maybe. But hot," I typed. I realized now how invested I was in this fantasy of having a threesome with Connor. Even if we fucked Mike separately, I wanted to fuck on my big brother's spunk again, like that first afternoon in the house.

"Jesus." Connor typed. Then, "You sure, bro?"

"Yeah, C" I wrote. "Very sure." I was boning as I typed. Maybe I was thinking with my dick, but I wanted to see this happen now.

I didn't hear back from Connor, though. Not until the 4th quarter.

"What's the address?" he typed.

I figured I should ask Mike to double check. "Hey," I said. "We you serious about my brother?"

The man was very much in that "don't bother me, I'm watching the game" mode, but I guess this question was an exception.

"Um yeah. Why do you ask, stud?"

I grinned, since I was the one with the big surprise to spring. "He's wanting to come over. Not sure what he's comfortable doing, though."

Mike smiled. Up close I could see that salt-and-pepper in his stubble. "Just as long as he doesn't mind sloppy seconds, kiddo... you let me pretty loaded up earlier."

And like that he was kissing me softly, lots of tongue, till he pulled it back and let me take charge of the kiss.

I pulled back and texted my brother the address. I was boned as fuck now. I hope I hadn't made a mistake, but Connor and I could figure it out later if it got too weird.

My brother must have been hard up and his Uber made good time, because it wasn't long before Mike's buzzer rang. I watched the beefy daddy get up and go over to answer, then let my brother up.

I stayed on the couch, trying to keep my attention to the final moments of the game, but I heard the door open and Connor's voice from the other room. "Hey," he said, half laughing, half nervous.

"Come in, bud," came Mike's deep voice. There was some whispering, then two of them walked in, Mike's paws on Connor's shoulders, half massaging the delts, half guiding him inside.

"Your brother here prefers it one-on-one time... OK with you studly?" he winked.

I nodded, daring to catch Connor's gaze. He now knew I was up for a threesome and I felt exposed in my perverse desire. His eyes though were reassuring, telling me he wasn't mad. Just uncomfortable with going all the way.

"Yeah, cool," I said, passing it off. "Have fun Connor."

"Yeah," my brother laughed. A little embarrassed. Maybe he felt weird to be angling in on his little bro's fuck date. Or maybe he didn't like me seeing that he wasn't as 100 percent straight as he maybe considered himself.

But Mike led him to the bedroom. Thank god he kept the door open. Maybe that was a gift to me, but Daddy Mike was a total exhibitionist, it didn't surprise me.

I heard more whispers, then Connor's excited sex grunts. They were taking their time but pretty soon I heard fucking. Connor's higher pitched groans and Mike's booming voice. "Fuck me, guy! Punch my guts! Yeah... right fucking there buddy.... Make Daddy proud!"

Jesus. Maybe Mike did the Dad talk with all the guys he hooked up with, but the idea that Connor had incestuous fantasies about our Dad was pretty wild.

I slipped down my shorts. I didn't out right jerk off, but I slowly massaged my huge bone, feeling the sap of my precum wet down my length.

I was so distracted I didn't hear them stop. But Mike spoke to me, his naked furry body looking magnificent, his dick standing straight up and dripping. "Hey kiddo... your big bro says it's Ok if you wanna join." Not pressuring me but offering.

I let go of my cock instantly. I could have nutted the idea was so intense. "Yeah," I answered and got up off the couch. I kicked off those Bears shorts and sauntered in, fully hard to join them.

There was a camera set up on a tripod, and another angled from the side. Fuck. I found the idea didn't bother me. Not if Connor was OK with it.

There was my big brother. Not as big as me body wise, but older and looking more collegiate. Handsome, cute, beautiful, I don't even know the right word. He forced a smile but seemed genuinely turned on by seeing me walk in. "Damn, Jase," he said. "You're a fucking porn star..."

I was used to the Daddy Mike treatment, but the ego boost from my big brother was something else. "Literally..." I laughed, nodding to the cameras.

Mike got on the bed to join my brother. "No faces, like I said fellas. And I'll let you approve before I post. But damn, a brother scene is special."

I then watched as Daddy Mike leaned over and started sucking my brother's lubed, throbbing cock.

"Oh FUCK!" Connor hissed, keeping his eyes on me. Then, "Hope you don't think less of me, bro."

I got up on the bed, lying next to Connor. Not trying to spook him or anything, but I wanted to be close to him and get a good view of him getting head. "What do you think I've been doing all weekend."

His eyes were going back from watching Mike suck him and back up to look at me. "Guess you really took to it, huh?"

I nodded. "Thanks for letting me, Connor," I said. My head inched forward, and his inched toward me too.

We were kissing. Brother on brother kiss. I didn't even know if Connor kissed guys. Maybe he didn't. But he was kissing me now. Tongue and all. It was different than Mike's kissing. Less sexual and maybe less romantic. But very skilled.

My prick jerked wildly. I didn't even know what the attraction to Connor was about, but I was very into the taboo of it.

Daddy Mike was sucking me now, pinching the base of my prick to keep me from cumming. Connor pulled back from our kiss to watch.

"You have a huge dick, Jason," he said. "Bigger than mine."

"Not by a lot," I said. "I love your cock, Connor."

He grinned. And like that we were kissing again. And Daddy Mike went back to suck Connor. Then me.

Then Mike pulled off. "Goddamn," he hissed. "Two fucking brothers," he growled.

I thought he'd go back to sucking Connor but instead he scrambled up and straddled my brother's waist, reaching back to guide the big dong into place.

"Fuck yeah!" Mike cried as Connor breached that slut hole again. By now both of us had opened up Mike's hole for business and the man didn't take long in being able to bounce up and down on a solid seven inches of Connor's meat. Then further... down to the pubes.

He looked over at me with an impish look on his face. "Wanna make Date Night complete, kiddo?" he asked.

I didn't know what he meant, and it showed on my face.

I could tell Daddy Mike was enjoying the hell out of this. Being wantonly sexual with two younger men, but also running the show. He cocked his head some. "Get back behind me and join your big brother up there."

I thought I'd cum, hands free. As it was my dick spurted out a healthy wad of milky precum. Maybe I wouldn't last in my first DP but I'd try this while the invitation stood.

I scrambled into place, feeling up Mike's strong meaty back and seeing the slight love handles from his beefiness as he wiggled his ass some on Connor's lap and then sat perfectly still. Waiting for me.

The entry was tough, but my cock was steel hard and very wet. I worked open the ring and after a half minute I was slipping inside him. Next to Connor.

"Jesus Christ!" my brother gasped. He could feel it, my prick sliding alongside his. It was tight, very tight wedged up inside Mike's guts, and it got tighter the more I pushed in.

"God fucking damn," Mike hissed. A lot of discomfort along with a clear sexual excitement. I worried now, because I couldn't see Mike's face to know when it was too much for him.

"Connor..." I said. "Tell me if I need to slow down," I said.

"Yeah," I heard my brother reply. My hands were on Mike's hips now, and I felt my brothers fingers touch over them. It was wild and hot. "Fuck him, Jase."

I did. Slow, deep. It was becoming my signature move, only Mike was feeling with two O'Brien dongs inside him at once. Double dicked, brother fucked.

The lewdness inspired me to give the best fuck I could. Fucking not only for Mike but for Connor too. I wanted my big bro know I was grown up for real.

Remarkably, even though I was doing the thrusting, Connor was the one who came first. "Oh Christ," he hissed loudly and I felt the slickness of my brother's seed flood around my cock. It was hot and magnificent. In a fucked up way I loved my brother, and that realization had me shooting hard. All around Connor's prick and really fill up Mike's bowels.

The big man was now tensing in my grip and I gathered he was having his deep orgasm now. Delayed from earlier, Mike was now nutting super heavy. His body hot as I leaned into him and whispered in to his ear. "Go for it, Dad... come with your boys inside you..." He practically cooed when I said that.

There was no small amount of awkwardness when we unpaired, but I didn't give a fuck. I felt like a stud and a half and I wasn't in the mood to feel apologetic or hesitant for enjoying that threesome.

Mike went to wash off. It was crazy to see the confident sure bottom walk dazed and still out of it to the master bathroom.

Connor seemed quiet, almost sulky, but I gave him a playful punch to the arm. "Come on, bro... it's cool. We're just having fun, OK?"

That seemed to calm him some and he flashed me a little smile. "OK, Jason.... but not a fucking word to anyone about this, OK?"

"Chill, dude," I said. "Of course I'm not gonna tell anyone."

We got dressed and pretty soon Mike was out, slipping on those sweat pants again.

"Damn fellas... guess you should be careful what you ask for huh? You guys really worked over my ass, all right."

Connor smirked. I probably did too.

"We should go," my brother said. Looking over at me in his bossy big-bro mode. I think he thought I'd try to sleep over at Mike's.

"Well thanks for a fuck I'll remember for a long time," Mike said. Laid back as hell. I decided whoever I ended up with would need to be open about sex. Maybe not as open as Daddy Mike, but I preferred this to all the doubts I'd had over the last few years. It was a breath of fresh air.

Mike stepped up and gave Connor a soft kiss. My brother accepted it, to my surprise. Then Mike kissed me. "Enjoy the rest of your visit, Pre Frosh," he whispered. "And hit me up. Anytime."

"Yeah," I muttered, my heart pounding a little. I was a little embarrassed now for Connor to see me crush out on a man who was clearly just in it for a lay. "Thanks, Mike."

Connor and I were quiet on the Uber ride back to campus and the fraternity house. But when we settled into his room, he pulled out a bong and we got high. And he relaxed some.

"So... you into older guys, Connor?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe not exclusively, but I'd love to date one... see what it's like.... guess I have to wait for college though.... fuck!" The reality of my hometown was coming back to me. Parents. School. My team.

Connor seemed concerned. "I got your back Jason. You know that, right?"

"Thanks, Connor," I said.

It was half the pot speaking, but my brother looked handsome as fuck just then. I hoped he found a good girlfriend, he was good looking enough to be choosy.

Connor smirked. "Thanks for inviting me tonight... guess I really needed a good lay."

"Glad you were cool with it," I said. "Hope I didn't fuck things up."

He shook his head. "You've just surprised me this weekend, that's all." He took another toke, held it in and blew it out, all while keeping his eyes on me. "My fucking lacrosse jock brother," he laughed.

I laughed too.

#drakestories

[seeingteacupsindragons]

I have an important post.

Louis's poker face when reuniting with his silly brothers after three years. V. serious. Calculating.

His brothers.

Fully prepared to get yelled at and berated for their actions. Albert is ready to just handle it as the eldest of the family. Liam looks ashamed--his eye is downcast and his eyebrows are all contrite while Albert is shoulders back and face forward.

But then, Albert apologizes and Louis just takes a breath and melts into his usual younger brotherly sweetness. Any questions he may have had about how to handle it are gone.

BUT BACK TO WILLIAM.

Look at the way his eyebrows raise and his pupils get all tiny when Louis thanks him for making the choice to continue living. Look at how stunned he is that he is being thanked instead of berated. By Louis.

Look at his moment of stunned shock when he's hugged by his baby brother. Look at the way his mouth falls open with a soft gasp.

Now look at the way Louis finally opens the door with a little smile like, "Okay, everyone else, it's your turn now. Look who's finally home."

But William's eye is downcast again, and he's expecting not a lot and is ashamed and embarrassed again.

And look at his confusion when they all mob him with affection and welcome. He looks almost upset. He doesn't understand why no one is upset with him. Why is no one lecturing him?

Anyway, carry on.

Just. So many good, cute moments, and I love the way it's all laid out so you can see the characters just taking moments to collect themselves and breathe in what is such an important emotional moment (there's a lot of stuff I didn't cap obviously)

#Yuukoku no Moriarty #Moriarty the Patriot

[il-predestinato]

i just finished and that's how i foksmashed dad's championship trophy and i wanted to drop by and let you know how much i adored it!! it's so cute and i think you captured sassy's voice (or literally any other cat's lmao) perfectly. the concept was perfectly executed and i love how charles eventually won her over. 10/10 would read again to cheer myself up when ferrari inevitably fucks charles' strategy up. thank you for blessing us and i hope you have a great day 💖

Thank you so much! Aww you're so sweet. I had way too much fun writing as Sassy. 😸 And yep, it's Charles - how could he not win her over by the end? 😜

Here's a snippet to cheer you up when Ferrari inevitably fucks our weekend (please let this be a reverse jinx):

No matter how many hints she dropped ("Leaving fecal matter on his clothes is not a hint," disputed Jimmy with a disapproving frown. "Dad is going to make you take those nasty probiotics again!"), Pappje just did not seem to get the hint. She would scratch up one pair of his hideous jeans, and the next day, it would be replaced by three more - each one more hideous than the one she destroyed. At some point, she was worried that they were reproducing in his closet, spawning ever more ugly offspring jeans.

It was aggravating, to say the least. Max had her spayed, which was just unfair because whatever offspring she could have had would have been ten times more attractive than those ... unspeakable textile disasters.

Most infuriatingly, Pappje thought she was the one in need of medical attention - suggesting to Max every so often that they needed to change her diet, see the vet, and so forth because of her "accidents." She wanted to howl that her bowels were just fine, thank you very much, but he was the one who needed his eyes checked!

She was working on her latest project, clawing fiercely at a pair of paint-splattered jeans, mewling with satisfaction as her tiny claws tore small streaks in the fabric when the closet door slid open. Oh no -

Dad had caught her red-pawed.

"Hey, hey," rebuked Max, dropping to his knees to reach for the fabric. "None of that."

Max tried to gently tug the garment out from under her paws. She hissed in protest, clinging on despite his superior strength. Why doesn't he understand? She huffed in frustration. She was only trying to help Charles. He deserved better than these ghastly outfits!

"I know what you're trying to do, snoepje."

She blinked at Max in confusion.

He teased her under the chin. Reflexively, she purred into his palm.

"But if we love him," whispered Dad, rubbing her patiently across the whiskers, "and of course we do - then we love all of him."

Oh.

"Ugly jeans included."

She considered it for a moment. It was Charles who always brushed her hair with the gentlest comb, played piano lullabies for her during scary thunderstorms, and baked her favourite mackerel treats.

Lowering her head and feeling a little silly and contrite, she mewled in understanding and allowed the odious pants to slip out of her claws. Max patted the top of her head.

"It's sweet how much you try to look out for him. But maybe no more pissing and shitting on his stuff, okay?" Dad tickled her slumped form. "He suggested a colonoscopy for you the other day -" He chuckled at her alarmed squeak. "After I refused to spend €2000 on that, he accused me of not caring enough about you and said he would pay for it himself."

No, no - please, anything but that! The neighbour's terribly basic tabby cat got one last year, and it took weeks for his gassiness to clear up! She pawed and licked at Dad's hand in supplication.

"Don't worry -"

Max's reassurance was cut off as another head poked into the closet.

Charles beamed at them, sliding into the small space with Jimmy purring at his heels.

"There you are."

Sassy blinked at the sight before her and - well, she needed a moment to recover. Pappje was wearing ... what was to-date his most abominable combination of clashing colours and patterns. She suppressed the hairball that her gag reflex threatened to upchuck.

"Well, what do you think?" asked Charles, gesturing to his outfit with an eager smile.

Sassy emitted a small cough. (She was quite proud of herself.) She shot a sideways glance at Max, who to his credit, smiled indulgently back at Charles.

Pappje blinked expectantly at them.

Remembering how pleasantly warm it felt to wake up curled up against Pappje's chest that morning - and not to mention, the stack of allergy pills in the bathroom with Charles' name on them, the ones he took every day over the alternative of banishing her and Jimmy out of their bedroom - she knew exactly what to do.

She meowed her approval loudly.

It was utterly worth it as he smiled widely at her and pressed a light kiss to the tip of her nose. It didn't even matter that he then did the same to Jimmy, just so he wouldn't feel left out. She licked his thumb affectionately.

"You look perfect," added Max, and thus received his kiss too, a little longer and a little more lingering, but never mind because Sassy got hers first.

When Charles pulled away, Dad shot Sassy a wink - a perfectly executed one that Pappje was never able to mimic - and mouthed to her: It's our little secret.

She sighed contently. Anything for Pappje.

-

(end)

P.S. Charles' clothes are not that hideous, but Sassy's formative years were spent learning fashion sense from Max.

P.P.S. Pappje = Charles. Dad = Max.

(original fic)

#charles leclerc #max verstappen #lestappen #lestappen fic #* #my fic #elle.ask #anon #and that's how i ruined pappje's entire wardrobe #jimmy and sassy

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Happy Birthday, my dear

It's @cilil's birthday!!!! 🎂🎂🎂🎂

So, here is a little gift for you. Done by the incomparable @neldeathstar!!!

And, in the name of friendship, I've also written a very tiny thing! It's under the cut :)

Enjoy!

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔰: 1.1 k ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰: Mairon, Aiwendil, Eönwë 𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: Sexual innuendo, Mairon is mean...

Mairon rolled his eyes—Eönwë and Aiwendil were not the audience he had expected or desired, but he needed to share his amazing experience with someone before he could burst with self-satisfied smugness, and he was too sated and content to ferret out Curumo or Ossë.

“Hello Mairon, how are you? You look…” Aiwendil faltered in his cheery greeting, his annoyingly huge, innocent eyes clouding over with something akin to dread and distrust. “You look different. Are you unwell?”

Look at that little fool, Mairon thought impatiently; he despised his fellow Maia for his sickening naïveté that was erroneously misconstrued and excused as genuine “sweetness” by most. Mairon knew the truth though, Aiwendil was nothing but a stupid dreamer who would never amount to much if he didn’t stop aimlessly horsing around with the most feeble and neglectable of Yavanna’s creations.

“Do we go to the library then?” Eönwë asked hopefully, his usually so placid face lighting up with anticipation.

Why that one wanted to go to the library didn’t make sense to Mairon either—Eönwë was a good fighter and a disgustingly faithful servant, but he’d never be the one to pen anything of importance. No, it was clear that he was destined to merely carry, defend, and deliver messages—not to write them.

“Ah, I am so sorry,” Mairon said softly, schooling his face into a convincing expression of contrition and prudish embarrassment that would be shattered only too soon by his carefully planned and rehearsed revelation.

Indeed, their vacant faces fell in disappointment and unveiled worry almost instantly.

Mairon drew himself up to his full height, ready to strike, and promptly informed them of his exciting and illicit meeting with Melkor in the forge in melting, sensual accents.

He had expected outrage, shock, envy, or even anger, but all he got were two blank stares of incomprehension. They even had the gall to cock their heads like puzzled birds—how Mairon wanted to wring their necks for having ruined his moment of breath-taking triumph by their profound and utterly maddening stupidity.

One, two, three—Mairon counted the moments in his wickedly sharp mind until any of the two would finally fully comprehend what he had just told them.

“Oh no,” Eönwë cried out in what seemed to be genuine alarm; he expressed his sincere commiseration and even gave special emphasis to the undeniable evil inherent to all of Melkor’s doings. Maybe, Mairon reflected, he only said so because of Aiwendil who kept staring at him with questioning cow eyes.

Ire—hot and punitive—flared within Mairon’s chest; he was named “the Admirable” but that alone wasn’t worth much when there was nobody around who was sensible and enlightened enough to actually admire him for his daring and cunning.

Indeed, he himself was rather proud of the way he had ventured into a passionate, mind-altering, and world-shattering relationship with the mightiest of the Valar—after all, their seduction had been mutual and all-encompassing. Mairon relished the lingering burning sensation rippling through his fána with every move, and he certainly would not accept pity when he had expected awe!

Letting his smile melt like warm honey, he turned his sweetest, most innocent face to the two woeful imbeciles who were still waiting for him to accept their well-wishes and expressions of foolish sympathy.

“Oh yeah…” Mairon sighed mellifluously. “His dick is evil…big.”

This time, Eönwë was quicker to catch on—he gasped audibly and sputtered his peer’s name in a forbidding, scolding tone that was but a cheap imitation and a pathetic echo of Manwë’s thundering eloquence.

“What?” Aiwendil looked back and forth between the other two, his vague gaze sharpening into an expression of bewildered distress.

Mairon made a rather crude gesture at the height of his own shapely behind that had Eönwë choking on his own tongue but only served to perplex Aiwendil even further.

“A dick? He has a tail?” Aiwendil asked, evidently just as eager to understand as he was incapable of grasping even the most essential mechanics of what they were so circuitously discussing—at least, Ossë would have challenged or even mocked him! Nothing was worse than the benign but utterly fatuous and vacant gleam of the insipidly handsome faces turned towards him like beacons of purity.

“Ugh, I wanted it. I welcomed his attentions!” Mairon groaned; he could hardly believe that he had to spell it out for them.

Silence fell like a stifling blanket over the bright meadow they had convened in.

“What exactly?” Aiwendil inquired shyly, his eyes darting nervously between Eönwë and Mairon—he could tell that he was a nuisance and was visibly afraid of being reprimanded or sent away.

“I am not going to draw you a graphic,” Mairon hissed, tossing back his hair and glowering at the young Maia with unadulterated loathing. “Suffice it to say that the forges were not the only thing that was burning bright. Oh, the things he does to me and I to him. We are so well matched—you can’t even imagine the pleasures we share.”

He held up his hand before Aiwendil could stutter some nonsense about walks in nature or tending to some foul-smelling beast; his body moved in suggestive undulation, mimicking the throes of lascivious passion he had engaged in before joining these two knuckleheads.

“They were dancing?” Aiwendil asked Eönwë in a muted voice.

“No, little one,” Eönwë sighed. “Mairon here has let himself be corrupted and tainted by the power of evil.”

“Ah, don’t be such a hypocrite!” Fire flared within Mairon’s eyes, and he wished that he had brought any of his tools to put Eönwë’s famed prowess in battle to the test. “He’s no better and no worse than his brother. Only because you have not had the guts or the charm to get anywhere with Manwë, you don’t need to take your envies and frustrations out on me.”

That accusation was so outrageous that it knocked the wind clean out of Eönwë’s mighty lungs—he merely stared, mouth agape, at the vision of flickering light and unbridled anger in front of him. More than ever, Mairon wanted to batter him senseless, but he held back and only bared his sharp teeth to give vent to his sombre, dangerous feelings.

“I would never…” Eönwë stammered, his cheeks colouring with the heat of embarrassment and something darker and much more shameful.

“Yes,” Mairon grinned sharply, “and that might just be your problem. Either way, I am too wrung out to go to the library and look at dusty tomes with the likes of you. See you later.”

“Why doesn’t he go to Estë if he’s in pain?” Aiwendil muttered, confused, as they saw Mairon limping away from them with as much dignity as he could muster.

“I am afraid,” Eönwë replied, settling a heavy but comforting hand on the slender shoulder of his companion, “that he has grown to like the burn.”

Once again, I wish you only the best for your birthday and good luck for tonight!!!

Lots of love from me, as always!!!

Hoch sollst du leben...an der Decke kleben and so on and so forth! Love you!!!

#og post #art #writing #Mairon #Aiwendil #Eönwë #Angbang #commission #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #tolkien writing #jrrt

[desertslegacy]

[ Cue the Music ]

In the days following his shameful behavior, he'd kept his head down, not daring to overstep his bounds. In his defense, the poor students attending that seminar looked dreadfully bored! A professor's job--nay, honor-bound duty--is making their material fun and engaging. Helping those shy young ladies out of their respective shells is really all in a day's work.

Until he was politely but firmly escorted out.

Apologies have long since been made and accepted; the press of Igrene's lips against his cheek lingered for hours after. He won't pester her, since he's made a fool of himself once. But one friendly conversation over the course of a dance can't go amiss in smoothing his reputation, can it?

"Ah, fair Igrene!" Laslow sweeps into an elegant bow, fairy dust glimmering on his cheeks when he stands up. "Might you do me the honor of having this next dance? Consider it a make-up lesson on footwork."

She hasn't forgotten his misstep, nor the contrition that came afterward, and Igrene smiles at the man's approach, giving him an inclination of her head in return.

"Professor," she says in greeting, a touch amused at the continued theatrics. But if nothing else, he seems a sweet man, and, she supposes, this is a party.

She sets down her drink and takes his hand, the warmth of her fire brand radiating from her palm to his, and she spies the tiny red flower as it begins to bloom along the vines at his throat.

As they take up their position on the dance floor, she looks at him, quite serious for the moment, and says, "Now you'll have your work cut out for you - I'll follow your instructions exactly. My dancing career is in your capable hands."

Then she winks.

She's no ballroom dancer, but she's certainly been a willing partner fireside or in the Arcadian square during festivals. Maybe she would learn a thing or two - or maybe he would.

#in character #toaball2023 #interaction: laslow #lightning flower 2 #let's go let's go

[ruki--mukami]

"How interesting... After all this time, I suppose it's appreciated that you know my feelings. It's surprising, even, to an extent. But I hope you understand that I don't want to fall into a loop of repeated mistakes. Someday I might be able to simply face you without nothing bad eventually coming into my mind, fearing both your and my reaction to any spoken word. Trust is a powerful tool that I don't know if I possess anymore. However..."

Scarlett's voice, rather solemn and calm, was loud enough for him to hear; as opposed to the aggressive tone she'd usually use around the vampire.

"Despite not being able to forgive you right away, I'd hate to know that you'd look at me with pity, regret or some sort of sadness. Don't get me wrong, I did want you to regret, but... until I come to terms with the reality of things, I'd rather give a little, a tiny bit of hope."

She breathed in and out, bringing up a small box, almost protected by her hands.

"So... Okay, you see, I had this in the back of my drawer, neglected, ignored, and I hesitated more than once trying to give it to you and I didn't find a good moment, be your birthday, or mine, or... ughhh... whatever, it's not much and it probably lost all relevance by now but I can't keep it anymore, so... please accept this?"

"Maybe it's not your style, but, uh, I don't know. You can do whatever you want with it."

Hesitant, almost shy, Scarlett handed the little box to Ruki. Its content was a floral-themed brooch, crafted with small jewels: diamond, ruby and sapphire specifically, creating the imagery of little forget-me-not flowers surrounding a golden ornament.

"It's no one's birthday anymore, but consider it a belated gift, or just... a gift."

"It would take a fool not to, Scarlett. As atrocious as you might deem me, I'm well aware you're more than justified in wondering what I might do next out of pure apprehension. I suppose my methods of showing you how much I care are more than just unconventional. Though I suppose that puts us in the same boat in some aspects—I, too, don't want to commit the same irreversible mistakes. Dropping the entire 'master' and 'livestock' labels… the whole concept of imprisonment. Not to mention the repeated verbal assaults we often resort to."

A slight chuckle escaped him as they watched each other.

"Well, I suppose I don't mind a bit of that if it means seeing you smile for once, even if your reason for doing so wouldn't be my first choice. I understand that, ideally, trust is a two-way street. Which is why I never believed in the concept to begin with… but as far as you're concerned, I'm willing to see if I might be mistaken after all."

Hearing each word escape the Ghoul's lips like a soft zephyr as opposed to the eye of the storm sincerely astonished the Vampire as an odd sense of both regret and the faintest glimmer of remorse suffused him, all neatly hidden behind slightly parted lips and widened steel-blues at the sight of a less-than-usual defensive Scarlett. Contrite and pliable by their increased distance, Ruki reciprocated her solemn tone.

"I don't expect you to forgive me at all. No amount of tangible gifts, homemade meals, or affectionate gestures you most likely hate with all your being can remedy that. It's only natural you might recoil."

Then, a glint of curiosity ignited in his gaze.

"A tiny bit of hope, you say. Do tell. I had given up on all hope long ago, but I'd like to see you enlighten me if you will."

Immediately he looked at the small box in her gloved hands with double the wonder. They say good things come in small packages, and while Ruki wasn't the one to take clichés seriously, he had taken notice of the Ghoul's penchant for miniscule items in the past.

"Ah, birthdays. Forgive me. I know those times were rather turbulent for us, despite the occasion. We've both been alive for longer than any human would ever want to be, so I paid it little mind—but if this is truly a gift intended for me, then I wholeheartedly accept. You need not worry about me casting it away if it's coming from you, Scarlett. Even if it's not exactly my style, I'm certain I'll find use for it."

Bold statements for one who has yet to view the inside of the box, yet he knew he could trust the Ghoul's sincerity given how uncharacteristic it was of her to approach him in such a hesitant manner. Not hesitant out of trepidation, but perhaps hesitant out of finally exhibiting the gall to set aside their differences and bestow a gift for him. Slowly unraveling its contents, a faint blush dusted his pallor as he held the scintillating brooch in his hand, admiring its metallic details and the gemstones symbolic of their convoluted relationship.

"These... These are much like the flowers from before.” 

As ruby as her vermillion tresses; as sapphire as his windows to the soul—or perhaps she would suggest lack thereof. Diamonds, adamant as their resolve. Personalities that would neither bend nor break to one another, yet he admired that detail immensely. The sight would have taken his breath away he had been alive, so instead he showed his appreciation but swiftly pinning it to the lapel of his blazer for all to see.

“Even after everything you've experienced, you would go out of your way to give this to me... Truly, no sufficient words can capture how I feel right now. Scarlett, you never fail to perplex me. And I mean it in the best of ways. You're unpredictable, you're trying your utmost best to reconcile, and your thoughtfulness is surprisingly endearing to me. I shall cherish this brooch forever and think of you when I wear it."

Indicative of his gratitude, the Vampire finally smiled at her. He refused to suddenly force an affectionate gesture like before, and instead took a gentle hold of her gloved hand, intertwining it with his own over the coveted accessory almost as if they put the brooch on his clothing together. Had he been human, she might be able to feel a pulsating beat beneath those layered articles, but what he lacked in mortality he accommodated for drastically in blooming adoration deep within, evidenced by his florid visage.

"Just as I thought, it truly is beautiful. A beautiful gift from someone worth treasuring, rather than tarnishing. You have my thanks, Scarlett. We can 'hate' each other until the end of time, clash until we both burn together, but even so I shall cherish you for as long as I live. Like this brooch would symbolize, there isn't a passing moment I'll forget my resolution to you."

#diabolik lovers #ruki mukami #mukami ruki #ask #rp #diabolik lovers rp #scarlett wakahisa #kindan-no-kanojo #rukilett #(( i won't add the tw this time )) #(( because... i really like this actually )) #(( this was wholesome )) #(( wholesome? in MY rukilett? )) #(( 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️ ))

[jackals-ships]

Politely Asking Gods To Stop Breaking Into My House

a companion fic to the earlier picture, written in 2nd person pov simply bc i can <3

There is a massive black wolf in your kitchen attempting to carefully gnaw his way into a jar of peanut butter. Well, correction: there is a god masquerading as a massive black wolf in your kitchen, trying to carefully gnaw his way into a jar of peanut butter.

"I can't believe you've done this to me, yet again. God could you, could you like warn me you're going to do this shit next time. seriously dude the fuck." The god-wolf jerks his head up as you speak, fixing you with a stare far too intelligent, ears pricked in your direction.

It would be more intimidating if he wasn't still holding the jar between his teeth, the thing looking comically tiny when compared to the size of his canines.

"Give, c'mon. Gimme." He relents his, very slobbery, prize to you and you immediately regret the action. "God you're so gross like you have. You have hands Loki you can use them." You don't catch the difference in his stare as you turn to wipe off the jar and grab a spoon. But if you had, you'd be questioning why he looked so amused. "y'know you're so. honestly you're so lucky I like wolves, otherwise you'd have given me more of a heart attack than you did."

The instant you've scooped some of the nutty treat there is a muzzle over your shoulder and a tongue as big as half your damn head trying to get at it. "Christ my man can you wait like thirty seconds-"

He cannot evidently, as he practically takes your hand along with the spoon. "What is wrong with you. Why are you like this." When the spoon is tugged back, with a lovely massive dent he at least has the sense to look mildly contrite. ".....you're gonna give me grey hairs. Swear you fuckin are." Considering the jar a loss as is you scoop out more and watch as he takes the peanut butter more politely this time.

"...so. What prompted the, the wolf thing. and like the "being absolutely god damn massive" thing?" He doesn't respond, because of course he doesn't as you know he finds it more amusing to mess with you when he's like this. "Like seriously you could've. You could've been the tiniest bit smaller, but no, you have to be. An absolute menace."

There is still no response and you give in to the urge to very lightly bap his nose. he wrinkles it at you, briefly baring his sharp teeth before sneezing and making you laugh. "God you're. You're something huh. …well. if you're gonna hang like this you wanna, you wanna cuddle? I've always wondered what cuddling with a wolf was like. I mean I sorta did once, grandpa had this huge wolf dog…."

You trail off as he trots from the kitchen to your living room and you follow after, getting to watch as he nudges aside your coffee table like it weighs absolutely nothing so he can lie down. "..You're helping me put that back later." All you get in response is a huff as he settles his head on his paws.

As for you? You lower yourself to sit by his side, making the slightest groan as your knees protest the action, before coming to lay back against him. He is…incredibly soft. You cannot resist the urge to run your fingers through his fur, marveling at the way your hands positively sink into it. ".....huh. neat."

There is a long moment filled only with the sound of his breathing and you continuing to stroke his fur. But eventually you have to break the silence. "Alright so. Since you're being all….wolfy. I'm gonna hold you hostage and talk about my little ponies." The huff he lets out sounds more amused this time, so you take that as your cue to launch into it. "So the newer generation involves the mane six, Twilight Sparkle is the element of friendship…"

Loki, for his part, is still silent all throughout your hour long discussion about the technicolor little horsies. His tail wags however when you get particularly excited talking about Tempest Shadow, gesturing vaguely in the air before your hand rests back on his head, unable to resist the siren song of soft fur.

"...and so like I didnt exactly grow up on the 80's my little ponies? But I did like, I had one of the movies, and it's still one of my favorite. So while I adore the newest designs I'm partial to that version…"

In all your rambling you did not hear the door open, nor did you hear the earlier click of the lock as someone decided that breaking and entering would be far more amusing than knocking. You do however hear the sound of your girlfriend's voice as he enters the living room.

"What are you two talking about?"

You look up, blink several times, look back down to the giant wolf you're cuddling with, look back up, continuing blinking. "............what the fuck?"

At any other time the sound of his laughter would fill you with an irritated kind of glee, but now it only furthers your confusion. Especially as he comes further in and leans down to ruffle his fur. "Fenrisúlfr, did you not introduce yourself properly?"

The wolf, Fenrisúlfr, lets out a long drawn out whine accompanied by a pout. "......I've been. I've been cuddling with." You're buffering, trying to connect the dots but coming up entirely blank as your brain simply refuses to accept any of this situation.

"Cuddling with my son yes, Fenrisúlfr or Fenrir I believe some of you call him."

"I just spent. Roughly an hour. Explaining My Little Pony, to. To one of the fuckers involved in Ragnarok?" He lets out another whine at that, ears pinning back up until you stroke them all gently.

"Evidently yes. You have been."

"...so if, so if this is Fenrir. there's also your other kids? Jörmungandr and Hel? And, and Narfi an Nari?" At his nod you pause for a moment, before speaking again. "So you did also have Sleipnir-"

You spring out of the way before you even finish your sentence, laughing as he swears at you for bringing it up for the millionth time.

Fenrisúlfr for his part stays in his spot, seemingly very content to watch the two of you dart around the living room.

#jackals barks #ship: im not gonna tell you (im in love) #okay 2 rb #THIS WILL NEVER NOT BE FUNNY jackals just accepts loki Does Shit and doesn't question it #just goes >:/ again? fucking again?

[leias-left-hair-bun-again]

For the writing ask game: 13, 15, and 18 (:

ooh thank you grace!! <3 and sorry i’m getting to this late D:

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

ummm i’ll start with easy :D easy for me is soft family moments and people struggling with their sense of who they are. grief and sort of - how to say it - i hate to say ‘spiritual’ cause that doesn’t seem quite right, but that’s the closest descriptor i can think of. whatever the subject is of stuff like the one with fives comforting fox in his dreams and hevy visiting echo on lola sayu - that’s easy for me. i know i’m kind of losing the ‘subject matter’ and getting into ‘genre’ instead skjflkds but difficult is broken relationships and also anything action-packed. i struggle with action D: but broken relationships is both the difficult-est thing i can think of off the top of my head and also something i don’t like, so chances are it’ll always be difficult for me cause i don’t particularly want to practice writing it XD

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

i’m actually trying to make myself comfortable with marking up books for fun - i’ve always been scared to so much as bend the spine of a book and have obsessively taped and glued many a tiny tear in the cover a paperback XD but i’ve also always used a separate journal to take notes as i read, and after a failed hard drive that wiped away almost a decade of said journaling, i’ve decided to start putting those notes in the physical books themselves

that being said, i actually have read in the bath before! an epsom salt bath and a book and a cold glass of tonic water w/lemon is the height of luxury for me skfjkdlsf i....should go scrub my bathtub so i can do that, actually >.>

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end.

i was trying to find something non-angsty for this question, and i remembered - well, let me go ahead and expose myself by posting this passage from the fic i have neither updated nor rewritten as i have promised to do since december of 2020 D:

There are a couple of times where you have to ask for clarification on a point that Kal’s made almost entirely in his own language, and the Nulls are eager to help you out. They’re also sympathetic when you nearly choke on one of the small chilis Kal has left in the stew - how you’re ever going to handle it at it’s usual intensity, you really don’t know - and under pretense of passing you water, Mereel takes the opportunity to put his warm little face right next to your ear and whisper:

“I think tingilaar is awfully spicy, too.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one,” you whisper back, ignoring Kal’s inquiring look.

After that, the two of you spend the rest of dinner send each other conspiratorial glances over the your bowls of stew. Whenever Kal’s back is turned you take the opportunity to stick your tongue out and fan it, and you’ve quickly got not only Mereel but also Prudii and A’den giggling quietly every time you do so. When Jaing starts joining in, Kal finally pauses in the middle of explaining something to Kom’rk and turns to you in exasperation.

“Someone want to tell me what’s going on here?”

“Sorry, Kal,” you say contritely. “This is so good, but it’s just so hot. I think my tongue’s on fire.”

“No it’s not!” Mereel blurts out scornfully, and at the same time Prudii asks, “Is it really?”

“That’s not possible,” Ordo says, his forehead wrinkling. “Is it possible, Kal?”

“It’s not,” Mereel insists. “Stick it out again.”

You obligingly stick out your tongue and are immediately swarmed by the Nulls, all peering at it with great interest.

“It’s not burnt,” Ordo says with relief. “Just red.”

“Really red,” Kom’rk adds.

“I bet yours are, too,” you say.

“Ith mine ed?” A’den asks, sticking his own tongue out.

backstory-wise: i’d gone home for a couple weeks and while i was there, my mum decided to make a szechuan stir fry. she added the chili oil and the peppercorns but didn’t want any actual chilies in hers, so she left them out and let my dad and i put as many as we wanted on our own plates. she also hadn’t been able to find the regular chinese chilies (tien, or something?) and had gotten a different kind - i want to say birds-eye but we used to grow those in our backyard and i don’t remember them being nearly so hot as these were. my dad and i, who both like spicy stuff, sliced up a bunch of them - enough to have a healthy piece of chili or two in every bite - and piled them on top of our food, blissfully unaware of what we were about do to ourselves. and then regretted our decision about three bites in. but we’re also both incredibly stubborn and refused to either pick some of the sliced chilies out or drink any milk to help with the pain, so we suffered through the meal in red-faced, sniffly silence while my mum shook her head at us over her own, chili-less plate (’:

i remember nearly taking the scene out just cause it felt silly and the fic was supposed to center around x reader romance stuff but i had so much fun with the children that i...kinda got distracted after that and started writing one-shots about kal and the nulls instead of continuing the fic XD it was a really helpful scene to try and pin down the characterizations for all the children, though. ordo was obvious enough, but the rest of them have to be reverse-engineered through their adult personalities of course and i remember spending absolutely ages switching names around for the dialogue tags until they seemed to match correctly

#i know that's not really an interesting passage or backstory sorry lksjklf i didn't want to go off the rails into angst mode though and #alas this was the only thing my brain would give me otherwise XD #writing asks #ask #grace tag 🌻

[frizz22]

What’s in a Name Ch. 5 ‘Boss’

Read on AO3

Ted waved at Higgins as they passed each other outside Rebecca’s office. “Another day another dollar, right Higgy-bottoms?” He greeted happily.

The man chuckled and shook his head. “Pound, Ted, but yes, another day another pound.” He agreed as he continued down the hall.

“Higgy-bottoms?” Rebecca repeated, bemused as Ted entered the room and shut the door behind him; he got fired up some mornings at Biscuits with the Boss so it was now policy to close the door to avoid distracting others.

Cocking his head, Ted grinned. “Oh, yeah, just a little nickname for ‘em. You don’t have a nickname for Higgins?” He asked, jerking his thumb back toward where the man exited.

Lips pressing into a line as though trying to look contrite but amusement winning out, Rebecca arched a brow. “Does Shithead count?”

Taken aback, Ted blinked and froze midway through handing Rebecca her biscuits. “Sorry, what was that now?”

Deliberately taking the box, Rebecca shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. “That may have been his name in my phone until rather recently. I particularly enjoyed asking Siri to call him.” She recalled fondly, opening the cardboard and eagerly taking a bite of a biscuit.

Ted shook his head, trying, and failing, to smother a smile. “Hmm, I gotta say, Boss, that doesn’t count.”

A laugh escaped Rebecca. “Damn. Well, then I suppose I don’t have a nickname for Leslie. Do,” she started, as a thought occurred to her, “do you have nicknames for everyone?” She finished the one biscuit as her free hand fiddled with the pink box in front of her.

His brows furrowing, Ted inclined his head in thought. “Not everyone.” He murmured after a lengthy pause. “Just have Higgins, Beard, Nate, tried Roy but he wasn’t having it.” Counting off each one on his fingers, Ted paused. “Actually, I suppose a decent number of people here do.” He conceded with a chuckle.

“Do I,” Rebecca asked, dropping her gaze a moment to trace an elegant finger along the edge of the box, “do I get one?” She finished softly, hopefully, bringing her eyes back to his.

Dumbfounded, Ted stared at her. “I, I call you yours every day, Boss.” He teased, though the small, crinkled line on his forehead still gave away his confusion.

An almost inaudible sigh escaping her, Rebecca smiled ruefully at him. “That’s not a nickname, Ted, that’s a job title.” She remarked, as though trying to gently break the news.

Leaning forward, Ted huffed good naturedly. “Is too a nickname! I call Beard ‘Coach’ all the time.”

Rebecca arched a brow. “Yes, because that’s his job.” She emphasized, humor tinging her voice. “And he calls you Coach too. As do the boys, and the press.”

“Are other people calling you Boss?!” He exclaimed in mock outrage, slamming his hand on her desk. At her playful eye roll, Ted grinned and settled back in his seat. “Okay, I see your point. So, you’re saying I owe you a nickname.”

Cheeks flushing slightly, Rebecca carefully set the biscuit box aside—one biscuit still settled inside. “You don’t owe me anything, Ted. I wasn’t demanding a nickname. I just, I was wondering, if I’d get one—that isn’t a job title—“ she added when Ted opened his mouth to interject. He snapped his mouth closed jokingly and Rebecca shook her head at his antics. “I was curious, I wasn’t fishing.”

But Ted could tell she was a tiny bit hurt she didn’t have one. Because nicknames, they were a way of showing affection and given how close they were it would only be natural for her to have one.

And he could only blame himself.

Calling her ‘Boss’ felt like the only safe option, besides Rebecca, of course, everything else he wanted to call her would’ve given so, so very much away.

Even with his conviction to call her only Rebecca or Boss, Ted nearly undermined himself every other day, especially when she smiled. That smile did things to his insides. Made his brain short circuit. Made him want to keep that smile there forever and always.

Made him want to call her a number of endearments she’d likely think were corny at best and crossing a line at the worst.

But, here she was, all but requesting a nickname, and Ted couldn’t deny her. There were so very few things he’d deny the stunningly complex, brilliant, strong, and beautiful woman in front of him. “Oh no,” he grinned, hoping his dopey face didn’t give away all his feelings, “you’re gettin’ a nickname now! No ifs, ands, or buts.”

“Ted, I didn’t really—“ Rebecca began, cheeks coloring just a tiny bit.

Shaking his head, Ted winked at her. “Oh, I know, but now that you’ve challenged my nicknaming abilities I can’t step down.” He teased before ostentatiously stroking his mustache and cocking his head at Rebecca as if in assessment.

As if he didn’t already sneak looks at every given chance; hoping to learn all there was about Rebecca. “Blondie.” He stated, picking something obvious and safe, then chuckling at how Rebecca’s nose wrinkled in response. “No?”

She huffed. “Fuck no.”

A laugh rumbling through him, Ted tried again. “Welly?” He offered, shortening her last name and grinning when she rolled her eyes. “Biscuit?” Pointing at the small pink box still sitting on her desk Ted raised his brows in question. At this she just glared at him and he laughed. “Okay, okay, noted. Hmmm,” finger tapping his chin in thought for a moment, Ted beamed. “Rebbie!”

“Alright,” she snorted good naturedly, standing from behind her desk and rounding it as though to escort him out so she could start her day.

Unable to leave yet, not when so much was churning inside him. Ted stood as well but didn’t move to the door. “Rebecca, you don’t have a nickname for a reason. I, I did it on purpose.” He admitted in a rush, his heart pounding.

Rebecca stopped midstep. “I, what?” She turned to face him, brow furrowed.

Swallowing, Ted took a micro-step toward her. “I, I haven’t given ya one because that just opens the door for my runaway mouth.”

No less confused, Rebecca wrapped her arms around her middle in a subconscious defensive gesture. “Ted, I don’t understand.”

Hand spearing through his hair, Ted huffed. “Cause I’m not makin’ sense.” He conceded, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I, Rebecca what I’m trying and failing to say, is if I gave ya a nickname, I’d then want to take it a step further.” He stuffed his restless hands into his pockets then, glancing at her cautiously.

“I hadn’t realized there were steps to the process.” She murmured, still curled into herself protectively. “What, what could the next step possibly be?”

He forced himself not to fidget, not to reach out and soothe the stiffening of her spine as though preparing for attack, for rejection. “Pet names.” The whisper escaped him, and it must’ve truly escaped because Ted would’ve agonized over the confession for at least another two minutes if left to his own devices. But in for a penny an all. “Things like, sweetheart, sunshine… beautiful.”

Breath hitching, Rebecca shook her head in disbelief. “What?” Though he knew she heard him correctly.

Coloring slightly, Ted ducked his head to examine his toes. “Like, ‘hello beautiful,’” Ted offered as an example, “I mean, I think it often enough when I see you.“ He brought his eyes back to her and waited with bated breath.

Jaw working for a moment, Rebecca wet her lips. “Flatterer.” She managed, voice a bit strained. “But if you’re done with the ridiculous names, nick, pet, or otherwise, some of us have work to do.” Her attempt at levity fell a bit short by the fact that she wouldn’t meet his eye.

It was a defense mechanism, Ted knew.

She was protecting herself and maybe trying to protect him a bit as well. But he couldn’t let her think he was full of hot air on this one. “That one isn’t ridiculous, Rebecca, I, I mean it wholeheartedly.” It was a risk, putting it all out on the line like this, but Ted needed to know if there was more that might keep him here than just a job when his contract came up for renewal.

Needed to know if the feelings he’d been slowly unburying for over a year now were reciprocated.

Ted also knew he’d regret it for the rest of his life if he didn’t at least try and find out. And, well, she unknowingly created an opportunity for him.

Throat bobbing with an uneven swallow, Rebecca huffed when she finally looked at him again. “Yes, yes it is, Ted,” she breathed, eyes glazing a tiny bit. “Because after all I’ve done, all the pain, and, and the sabotage…. You don’t, can’t, want,” she merely gestured to herself instead of finishing her sentence.

Stunned, Ted took a much more purposeful step to her. “I do.” His previous apprehensions gone in the face of her insecurity, in the face of her not turning him down outright.

Her head shook, chin wobbling the tiniest bit as well. “You don’t.” She whispered vehemently. “You don’t. You don’t because I’d bring you nothing but misery. And the press…” a watery scoff sounded in her throat. “Every relationship, every one, Ted, I, I can’t, won’t, do that to you. You’re so good, so kind, and wonderful and I, I’m not strong enough to resist if you truly offer. So please, you don’t.” Tears were slipping down her cheeks now and the earnest tone of her voice broke his heart.

She couldn’t resist?

Did, did that mean she felt the same? Felt the same and had only been holding back out of fear? Just like him?

Adrenaline coursing through him, Ted closed the distance between them. Because while he had always been a word man, he knew Rebecca was more for gestures, so instead of arguing with her, instead of trying to counter all the damage Rupert had done in their years of marriage, Ted merely stepped closer, gently cupped her cheeks with his hands, and kissed her.

Nothing crazy, though Heaven knew he wanted to kiss her like there was no tomorrow. No, just enough to prove to her, that he did, in fact, want her.

All of her.

Every piece no matter how battered or bruised she thought it was; he wanted it.

“I do,” he breathed, when he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers. “I do, Becca, I promise.”

Something halfway between a sob and a laugh bursting out of her, Rebecca clutched at his forearms. “That.” She gasped, not pulling away. “That, please.”

Dumbfounded, Ted leaned back a tad to look her in the eye. “What?”

Smiling weakly, Rebecca caressed her fingers along his forearms. “My nickname.” She murmured.

He had to think a second, unsure. “Becca?” He confirmed, brow furrowing. “That’s not much of a nickname, I can do better—“ Ted tried, but she cut him off.

“Yes, that.” Rebecca countered firmly. “My, my mother was always adamant that my name was Rebecca and if she wanted to call me Becca or any other variation then she’d have named me such. And then Rupert, he,” she stopped to swallow and avert her eyes.

Carefully directing her gaze back to his with a gentle hand on her cheek, Ted smiled at her. “You don’t have to—“ he began, catching a tear she didn’t seem to notice had fallen with his thumb.

Rebecca shook her head as if to say she needed to get this out. “He said it was ‘uncouth’. That I didn’t need to further damage his reputation by, by requesting for an, an undignified nickname. I’ll never forget how stupid and humiliated he made me feel for asking. For thinking it was just an affectionate shortening of my name.” She exhaled shakily at the memory. “I didn’t have the courage to ever ask it of anyone after that.” The near inaudible admission had Ted wanting nothing more than to march off and find Rupert and teach him a few things about treatin a person right.

A light touch brought Ted’s attention back to Rebecca. “But you,” she huffed, her hand lingering after brushing a lock of hair back from his forehead tenderly. “Here you are, just letting it fall completely without thought from your lips. And it sounds like Heaven.”

Ted swiped his thumb across her cheek again, reveling in his sudden permission to touch her like this. “I thought I was bein’ polite, calling you by the name you introduced yourself with. I know how proper you Londoners are.” This got a chuckle from her and Ted’s heart swelled happily. “Heck, if I’d known callin you Becca would’ve had this effect…” he added, only for the rest of his sentence to be muffled.

Muffled by her lips crashing against his. Muffled by a kiss much more intense than their previous and Ted only had time to respond eagerly, for his hands to slide from her cheeks to her back and hips, before she pulled away.

Slightly breathless, Rebecca bit her lip. “This is still a bad idea,” she gasped, shaking her head as if to clear it. “I don’t want you to be hurt.”

“You would never intentionally hurt—“

Putting space between them—as if finally fully realizing what she’d just done—Rebecca shook her head. “I did. Or at least I tried my damnedest.” She snapped, tone brittle, and the anger she still aimed at herself made Ted want to comfort her but he knew it’d only be rejected right now. “And I’m not saying I’d regress to that stage in my life, I like to think I’ve grown. But Ted, I was that person. And don’t you dare say hurting people, hurt people. You didn’t. You were certainly hurting, enough to move to another country and all you ever tried to do was lift people up. I was horrid and cruel.

And beyond even that, I, Ted, the press will eat you alive. That could hurt you; will hurt you. And it’d be because of me. I’m used to being their punching bag, it’d be nothing new, but that certainly doesn’t mean I want to put you through it.” She was pacing now, and gesturing harshly with her hands in her anxiety. “And I know Henry isn’t reading British papers… but news spreads quickly in the sports world and it’s a harsh place. Sooner or later someone at his school or training will say something to him. And then he’d be hurt because of me as well. That’s unacceptable on an entirely other level! I, we are a bad idea.” She finished, slightly out of breath.

Hands finding his pockets in order to keep from reaching out for her, Ted cocked his head. “Are we, though?” He asked. “I’ve had feelings for a while, Becca, and I know all o that about you, because you’re a good person and you told me, and you apologized and took a lotta steps to make amends. And if my feelings didn’t disappear after that confession, they’re not gonna disappear. Especially now that I know what it’s like to kiss ya.” He grinned at her, his eyes falling to her lips and then away with an effort. “I don’t care about the press.” Ted said flatly, making his way through her list. “And Henry,” he continued before Rebecca could comment about the press again, “is a kid, he’s adaptable, he’s accepted Michelle dating easily enough. But,” he sighed, seeing the expression on her face. “If, if it’s really, sincerely what you want, to not act on this any further… I’ll respect ya, of course. But, Rebecca,” he huffed, “I don’t think that’s what you want.”

Rebecca smiled weakly at him. “What I want and what you deserve are not the same.” She held up a hand to hold off his argument. “You,” her arms snaked back around her middle, and Ted’s heart ached over the fact that she felt the need to protect herself from him. “You deserve the world, Ted. You deserve someone kind, and thoughtful, loving, and smart, and who adores all your puns and references. Someone—“

“Funny thing is,” Ted interrupted gently, “you’re describing yourself. And it just about kills me that ya don’t or can’t see yourself the way I do.” He smiled at her, sadness tinging his words at how she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Becca, we both got baggage. I’m working on lightening mine, but a small part o me will always be worried about being too much for someone.” His hands flexed in his pockets, but nothing more. “And I think, no matter how much you’ve grown, that a part of you will always hear Rupert’s nasty voice and the awful things he made you feel and believe. But I’d love to help drown the bastard out as long as you don’t mind lending a helping hand with my bags.” And he knew she wouldn’t mind, heck, she’d been helpin carry his baggage since day one, whether she was actively trying or not.

But then… she started crying in earnest.

Her shoulders shaking from suppressed sobs, Rebecca sniffed. “Ted,” she whispered. “Please, please stop.” Her pleas were accompanied by her backing up until she was pressed against a wall. “I told you, I’m not strong enough to resist if you truly offer. Which means I’m certainly not strong enough to lose you when the time comes. Please, please just, can we please go back to the way things were? When we just admired one another and were best friends? Please?” Voice cracking, more tears slid down Rebecca’s cheeks.

Perplexed, Ted forced himself to focus on the first part of that sentence, and not the second and the pain it’d cause when he examined it fully. “Lose me? Why is that a forgone conclusion?“ And oh, how he wished he wasn’t causing her so much pain with this conversation. Ted knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but he didn’t think it’d be so complicated either.

“Henry.”

That was all she said. His son’s name. And Ted’s brow furrowed.

Not missing his body language, Rebecca wiped at her cheeks roughly. “You’re an amazing father, Ted, it’s one of the things I admire about you most; your love for Henry.” Her smile was genuine at the mention of his relationship with Henry. “Sooner or later, you’ll want to be with him full time, in-person again. Understandably,” she rushed to add, “and I’d never stand in the way of that, wouldn’t dream of it. But,” her chest heaved with emotion, “but I don’t think I’d survive having you in the way I want, in the way you’re suggesting right now, and then losing you. If you’d let me finish a moment ago, I’d have said you deserve someone who can, and will, pick up their life and move to Kansas with you, so you can be with your son. I can’t, Ted. I can’t do that for you. I’m just getting my life back and then some. My relationship with my mother is improving, I have Sassy and Nora again, I have Keely, and Higgins and, god knows you made this happen, but I even have the team. I can’t leave for Kansas and you deserve someone who makes you and Henry that kind of priority in their life.”

Watching her curl more and more around herself in preparation for rejection, Ted couldn’t hold himself back any further. Closing the distance between them, he pulled her into a hug, holding Rebecca tight until she finally melted into his embrace and then holding her tighter. “I’m not askin any of that from ya, Rebecca.” He murmured softly, rubbing a hand up and down her back, hurrying to continue when she stiffened in his arms. “And, and I wouldn’t have even broached the possibility of us if I planned on leaving. It’d just about kill me too, having you and then not. I’m not sayin I don’t want to be closer to Henry, I do. Probably more than anything. But Michelle and I have been talking a lot about Henry coming to live here in the summers and other longer school holidays and even spitballin’ a few other ideas. It ain’t a here or there only situation.”

At his words, Rebecca sagged against him, her face buried against his shoulder. “Ted…” she hedged, finally pulling back to look at him, and he could see she was still unsure. “I, I don’t want to be hurt either.” The admission came out in a small voice, one Ted had never heard before—and hoped to never hear again.

He swallowed, wishing he could give her only the goodness she deserved but knowing that because he, and life, weren’t perfect that was an impossibility. Carefully tucking some of her hair back, Ted sighed softly. “I can’t promise I’ll never hurt ya, Becca.” He murmured sadly, hating that he possessed the ability to hurt her, even unintentionally. “But I can and do promise that I’ll never do it on purpose. I can promise to never break you down with cruel words or harsh treatment. What I can do for ya, Becca, is I can promise to give you my full self with all the love I have bustin outta me.”

A small gasp escaping her, Rebecca blinked at him. “Ted… that’s, that’s just a Kansas-er turn of phrase, right?” When all he did was frown in confusion, she added. “All, all the love you have busting out of you.” She clarified hesitantly.

Cheeks flushing, but not looking away, Ted shook his head; in for another penny it seemed. “Nah, that’s a Lasso original right there.” He confessed, smiling sheepishly. “Might be a bit much, dropping the ‘L’ word like that on ya, especially when you’re still not sure. I wasn’t tryna intimidate or guilt you or anything, heck, Rebecca, I told you, nicknames get my runaway mouth going.” Trying to be respectful, Ted made to pull away, give her more space, more time to think it all through.

Rebecca’s arms holding fast around him stopped Ted. “It, it is a bit much,” she whispered, “but not in a bad way.” Eyes shining, Rebecca twisted her lips. “I, I wish my heart wasn’t held together with glue and paper clips so I could say it back, Ted. I wish I trusted myself enough, because god knows I trust you. More than anyone. But I can’t, not yet,” she added, clearly having seen something in his face and feeling as the need to reassure him. “I want to work toward it, though, because when I do say it again, to someone in that way, it’ll be to you.” A small huff and Rebecca shook her head. “It could only be you.”

His heart swelling with a cocktail of emotions, Ted nodded, only too happy to wait for her. “I’m here whenever you’re ready, Becca.” He murmured, caressing her cheek and sealing the promise with another gentle kiss.

#ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso #rebecca welton #tedbecca #ted x rebecca #ted lasso x rebecca welton #leslie higgins #Higgins #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #ao3fic #fanfiction #fanfic

[mhaynoot]

Mary was on school holidays when she met God.

“Oh no, dearest,” the deformed mushroom corrected. “We am not God nor mushroom, we am spirit of this forest.”

I am going to die, she thought with all the solemn acceptance two in the afternoon could grant her.

“We will not allow you to perish,” it said. “Our girl, dear Marriane Lee. For the greater good of everyone, you have been chosen as the beholder of a special task.”

It wasn’t talking quite right. Kind of like a radio host tuning into the right frequency and only vague word-shapes squeaking out. But there was a lag between its words and mouth like the sync wasn’t right. At several points, they stopped moving entirely, only to startle into a hurried flap, trying to catch up like it was unused to having a mouth.

Well, less ‘like’ and more that’s what exactly happened. Minutes ago, Mary had been thrusted the honour of watching as those ‘lips’ pressed and morphed and assembled itself into existence. The sight of human-shaped lips blossoming was definitely something her eyes would never forget. It reminded her, starkly, of one of those time lapse nature documentaries. Actually, Mary was starting to feel a lot like one of those videos at the moment. Specifically, the one with a fly getting swallowed by a venus flytrap. And yet, despite its malfunctioning appendage, whatever was powering its radio-static voice was speaking in a terrific mimic of the Queen’s poshest English.

It said, “Do not be afraid, for we will surely assist you. Indeed, the fate of the world is in your hands and you shall have all the help you will need from ourself.”

It opened its hollowed mouth into an approximation of what might've been a smile and beamed at her. The very human-looking eyes atop its rounded head stared at her, unblinking and bulbous. She held herself very still as the irises started drifting apart. They were a murky brown like soil uprooted after a flood. The apparently not-mushroom flesh encasing them curled up, bringing the smile approximation from six decimal points into maybe three decimal points. It looked bemused.

After an extended silence, Mary realised it probably wanted her to respond.

She had not spoken a word since it had bumbled up to her on tiny turnip legs. When it had then opened its eyes and talked to her, it was like all the air she was previously breathing had rolled back into her throat and suffocated any sound she could have made.

I should have just stayed home.

As a not-so-good but not-bad-enough Catholic student, she had the whole ‘look contrite and don’t talk back’ down to an absolute artform. But as it continued looking at her, she unstuck her lodged tongue and hoped it didn’t recognise enough human expression to realise she wasn’t smiling.

“Um,” she said, feeling like all that missing air had actually found a balloon in her throat. After all, it was currently inflating her chest into a squeezed fruit. “I’m- I’m fourteen?”

Apparently, being an adult was not required for saving the world. Nor was having guardian permission.

“The fewer people know, the better it'll is,” it said, voice slightly less radio-like and synching perfectly now.

Mary had then been gently persuaded to pick up the not-God to carry it back home. Her entire body flared up into tiny pinprick gooseflesh as she touched the too smooth surface of its body. The nerves in her hands were physically recoiling but she didn’t dare to drop the spirit of the forest.

Surprisingly, it was very warm. Too warm, in fact, as her palms started sweating not even halfway home. The normal coolness of the forest only made her shiver.

This backyard forest was supposed to be a quiet respite. Her David Attenborough in real life moment. Usually, she would spend many hours worrying her mom as she liked to wander off for hours.

Today, she took the shortest route she knew and trampled over dirt and tree roots, all but running a ruler-straight line home. Her mom will yell about her messy shoes and skirt later. Fortunately, Mary was already pretty close to detaching herself from reality and her emotions had since been trampled into tepid obedience.

Which was probably why she did one of the stupidest things she could've done besides waking up this morning.

“Um, spirit of the forest,” she said. “Did you have a name?”

It looked up at her. Mary really did not want to meet its eyes and found the excuse of keeping her gaze on the path.

Fortunately, the existence in her hands didn’t seem to mind. “We cannot tell you. Your brain may explode.”

“Oh,” she said and remained very, very quiet afterwards.

She unlocked the backdoor but, hand on the doorknob, a second away from turning it open, paused and finally dared to look at the being in her hands.

Sometime during the journey home, it had absorbed the eyes atop its head and drifted them down into the middle of its body. They hovered a little less threateningly above its smiling lips. If she squinted really hard, it kind of almost looked like a normal face. A normal face on a walking, talking mushroom body with sprouting radish feet. Slowly, she locked the door again and walked towards the tool shed.

Anyways, it said the fewer people who know, the better.

It didn’t seem to mind and hopped down from her hand to settle onto a piece of solidified dog poop. Daisy had gotten into the shed again.

Mary sat down. Her skirt was ruined. Her mom was going to kill her.

It rubbed its hands together. Those also seemed to have grown when she was firmly not looking. It looked kind of like cauliflower stems.

“Marriane dear,” it said and, oh look, the static was completely gone. “Today, you have been chosen with a very special task.”

Mary did not want to roll her eyes at the spirit but its next words made her sit up straight.

“We are dying.”

“What?” she said.

“You have to help with our passing. It is like the human funeral. Many preparations and rules but it’ll be done in two dawns,” it said, bobbing up and down. Its turnip legs were growing knobbed little knees.

“I- But I’ve never even been to a funeral, how can I possibly even help? How does this even save the world?”

“We’ll help you make a good procession. After two dawns and we are still here, the forest dies and then the whole world.”

She breathed in very deeply. “Why me then? Don’t you have someone or- or something else to help you?”

“One cannot die in spirit plane,” it said, casually. It hopped down and popped back up like a toy. It seemed to like its new knees. “Come now, the first step is the salt and bush tomatoes.”

Finally, she couldn’t resist it anymore and rolled her eyes. Freezing, she quickly checked its face but only saw calm drifting eyes and mentally sighed a breath of relief. “Yeah, fine, I’ll get them.”

She stood up and ran to the house as quickly as she could.

Twisting the door knob and opening it as softly as she could, she stuck her ear into the crack. Silence. She exhaled.

Mom was sleeping.

She swiped the salt shaker from the kitchen and then hurried to the garden. Hoping mom wouldn’t notice too quickly, she snapped four unripe tomatoes and shoved them into her skirt pockets.

“Get eight, Marriane.”

She almost dropped the tomatoes.

“Oh my- Don’t just sneak up on me like that! Also I definitely can’t, my mom’s going to kill me.”

“She’ll not kill you, you are her beloved offspring.”

“Yeah and she’ll definitely notice me killing her other babies.”

“It needs to be eight or else the world ends.”

She made a low wheezing sound like a balloon deflating but grabbed eight tomatoes.

“Onto step two." It smiled. Small teeth gleamed.

Mary was not looking forward to it.

Step two was spending two hours trying to find the ‘flowing movement of fresh water’.

Mary found out very quickly that the spirit did not have a good sense of direction. At all.

When they finally found the tiny creak, she wanted to shake the thing but settled for collapsing onto the ground. Two. Hours.

She complained, “This is literally thirty minutes away from my house, I could’ve just walked straight to it if you directed me properly!”

“Your human directions are not decipherable,” it said with a huff from its new human nose. It was now a very normal, if slightly squashed, face. It was also beginning to have a neck, kind of like osmosis or whatever her science teacher said. The thing about one cell splitting into two but, in this case, two mushroom parts stacked on top of each other with a stem connecting between them. “We came from a seed that drifted down this creak. Back then, this was a strong river and we washed up onto that land.”

Spring onion sized arms were pointing towards a patch of grass before hopping to a tree. Mary rolled over and examined the grass. It looked suspiciously normal. She looked over and saw it start to gather rocks, dried grass and sticks into a small tool.

“What’s that?” she asked.

It presented the tool for her. “Step three is digging this up.”

She groaned. “I want to unionise.”

“What?”

Mary shook her head. “Nevermind, how deep?”

It pointed to itself with vaguely human-shaped fingers.

“This is against child labour laws,” she said and grabbed the tool.

Step Four: Squeeze the bush tomatoes into the hole which was apparently where she'll bury it when the time is right. It will not tell her exactly when the time is right.

Step Five: Turn the hole (and her hands) into a mess of slushy goop.

Step Six: Make a grass woven blanket.

“Like this,” it said, strangely nimble as it weaved the dried grass in and out. “You can use this to make baskets and pick up fruits and flowers.”

Tongue clamped between her teeth, she tried to follow along. In. Out. In. Out. Mary felt like she had concentrated in the last hour more than she had ever in school.

Even though what she made in the end was sloppy and uneven, the spirit still smiled and said, “Good."

Surprising even herself, Mary smiled back at it.

She was scammed.

“How many flowers do we need? Why can’t we just take those ones?”

They had been picking flowers for the last three hours of sunset.

“No," it said, shaking its head and flapping its big sprouted ears around. "We can only use uprooted flowers. Come on, Mary. Let's get those ones there.”

She threw her flowers into the basket with a little more force.

“I can’t stay in the forest at night, my mom would be so worried and it's cold and there’s like snakes and animals and-”

“Your mother won’t know and we will protect you,” it said, curling up into the blanket she made. It patted its hand onto the bigger one it had woven. “Come look at the stars, we will tell you their stories.”

Mary sat down and sighed. It was surprisingly warm and cosy and the forest floor was soft like butter. Probably spirit magic. She stared up at the sky through the forest leaves and wondered why the stars seemed even brighter than normal.

“The ocean is not the only place where fish gather. There was this one catfish. Not a bad heart but he was greedy and a fool. He wanted to swallow the stars…”

After all those hours running around and working, Mary's eyes quickly started drooping shut and she listened to its pleasant voice as she fell asleep.

“I think the catfish was still in the wrong,” she said the next morning, dropping the flower basket onto the ground. Last night, she didn't dream but it had one of the best rest she'd had since high school began. It didn’t reply and she huffed. “C’mon, did you choke on the blanket or something?”

She shuffled the bundle of blankets around and uncovered its face. A pink, wrinkled and perfectly human face looked back at her. She almost dropped it.

There was a baby in her arms.

“Spirit?” she said.

It did not reply.

She bent her head down and hovered her ear to its small lips but couldn’t feel its breath. She stuck her fingers against its neck. Silent.

“No, no, no,” she said, checking again and again for a pulse. “Hadn't you said two dawns? I- you also meant yesterday too didn’t you. Why didn’t you-” she choked. “Stupid spirit, why couldn’t you have learnt English properly.”

There was still a flush on its round cheeks, eyes closed like it was only sleeping but she knew it was already gone.

Her nose felt like it was burning.

Just like it had told her to, she placed it down into the burial hole. Unwrapped the woven blanket and laid its face and body. Threw salt over it and splashed water from the creak from the blade of a grass. And then those damned flowers. She placed them one by one across the small lump, making sure each one was touching the blanket. The sunlight called to the flowers and, even in death, their little petals swayed as if beckoned to the sun. A few birds called out. They sounded ugly or maybe they were just mimicking the noises she was making. The wind swayed between the trees and leaves swished and rattled overhead. It sounded like footsteps running up and down, like someone waiting to leave.

“You can’t just go like that,” she said.

The wind finally stopped and the forest felt a lot more quiet.

#hawrites #my creative writing final assessment #i just remembered that lots of scenes were taken of cause of the shitty word limit sigh #id rewrite and expand on this more when i feel the mood #man its been a year already since i wrote this amskdk time flies

[abbysfrenchbraid]

sevika and “who the fuck called you boring?” for the one sentence thing pleasee

thank you for the prompt, this was fun!

Sevika x gender-neutral reader, no cw

It was late, way after midnight. You were still up reading, trying to tire your eyes enough to finally find sleep, when you heard heavy steps on the corridor outside of your apartment.

Sevika. It seemed she had had a late night as well. It had become a little routine for you, listening to her steps and trying to envision exactly what she was doing and just how grumpy she would be if you ran into her in the morning. She slowed her steps in front of your door, then she grunted and moved along. The wall creaked almost inaudibly as she supported herself along it.

A thump told you she had reached her door and let herself fall against it. Keys jangled, then door hinges squeaked and heavy boots entered the room next to you, their rhythm uneven as she stumbled forward and threw the door shut behind her.

You put down your book, keeping a finger wedged between the pages, and smiled to yourself. Sevika’s bed was right next to yours, only a thin wall separating you. You had gone over to ask for salt once, and she had invited you in for a moment as she rummaged around her tiny kitchen unit. She did not own much, choosing to live rather simply with a bed, a table, two chairs, and a wooden trunk with her belongings.

Her bed frame banged against the wall as she seemingly collapsed on it, then you heard her groan. You had heard a few interesting things from over there before, including a few visits from strangers who always got very excited as the night progressed. Sevika was not concerned with the neighbor’s opinions. Only a few people in Zaun were, and regrettably, you were among them. Silco’s henchwoman had gotten under your skin.

You had been neighbors for a few years now, running into each other on the corridor every few days. Your conversation always remained at a surface level, but after years of small talk, you both knew quite a bit about the other and always enjoyed your little talks.

On the other side of the wall, you could hear gentle snores. You smiled to yourself and put a piece of napkin between the pages before placing the book on the nightstand and turning off the light. Listening to Sevika’s even snores, you drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, you ate some stale leftover bread and grabbed your book from the nightstand before heading to the door. When you stepped out into the corridor, someone slammed into you and knocked you into the stair railing. Before you could tip over it, strong hands grabbed you.

“Fuck, sorry about that.” Sevika coughed and picked up the book you had dropped. She brushed a hand over the cover before handing it back with a contrite look. “Didn’t mean to bulldoze you.”

You laughed shakily and tried to steady yourself. She had quite literally knocked the wind out of you. “It’s fine, I just need a sec.”

Sevika put her hands on her hips, red cloak riding up to reveal a line of tan skin between her top and pants. You tore your eyes away, shaking your head. How bad had that hit been? The dark-haired woman grimaced. “I’m really sorry. Tunnel vision.”

“Late night?” you asked, trying to sound casual. She raised her eyebrows. “Yeah. Too late, probably.”

You smiled and rubbed some dirt from the spine of your book.

“Let me guess,” she teased, “you read your little book and went to bed at ten.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” You leaned forward, as if wanting to let her in on a secret. Sevika looked surprised and instinctively mirrored your movement. “I read my little book until two in the morning.”

Seika barked out a laugh and shook her head. “Incredible.”

“Right?” You laughed along. “I might be a very boring person, but even I can have some fun every once in a while.”

“Hey,” Sevika protested, “who the fuck called you boring?” She stepped closer and stabbed her finger at the cover of your book. “I wish I could concentrate long enough to escape to another world through a story, just to leave Zaun for a while. You probably had more fun last night than half the crowd at the Last Drop.”

Your fingers clenched around the paperback. “You think so?”

A lot of people in Zaun only had a very basic understanding of written language. Parents who had the time and the skill taught it to their children, but a lot of people never advanced past names and numbers. Instead of writing, symbols were used a lot, and there was only one real school for those who had the money and the motivation. Reading was not something people cared about here, they were too busy surviving or trying to find easy, quick pleasures.

“I do.” She squeezed your upper arm. “Maybe I should give those a try. It just… doesn’t come easily to me.”

“I could read to you,” you blurted out without thinking. Immediately, you felt heat rise in your cheeks and tried to fight off the blush with a deep breath. Too late. Sevika cocked her head and regarded you for a moment, lips twitching with amusement. You nervously drove your tongue over your lips to wet them and Sevika’s eyes dropped down to follow the movement.

“I’d like that,” she finally replied. “Tonight?”

“Okay.”

She nodded. “Pick out something good, something far away from this shithole. Something warm.”

You smiled at her and stuffed the book into your bag. “I know just the thing.”

She gestured to the stairwell. “After you. I’ll just come over when I get back.”

You quickly descended the stairs, Sevika’s steps heavy behind you. Out on the street, you turned to look at her again.

“I’m going this way.”

“I’m down there.”

The moment was a little awkward, but both of you had to grin.

“See you tonight, then.”

“See you tonight.”

#sevika x reader #sevika arcane #arcane #sevika lol #league of legends #sevika imagine #sevika fanfiction #arcane fanfic #osp sevika

[samstree]

for the cliche tropes, 27. Help me I’m being hit on at a bar please be my fake boyfriend for a second with geraskier, if you please <3

Thank you for the prompt! 🌼 Sorry it’s quite late but please enjoy this tiny piece of pining on this fine Friday.

(1.3k, geraskier, slow dancing, drunk jaskier, protective geralt, no warnings.)

“Oh, Geralt! Fancy seeing you here!” Jaskier exclaims, as if they didn’t come to the banquet together.

The bard reaches Geralt’s table and sweeps away his ale in one swift motion before chugging it all down. When he finally puts down the tankard, Geralt finds himself the recipient of the bard’s most charming and yet most performative smile.

Jaskier is nervous.

“Phew!” His hands flail dramatically. “Fine evening, isn’t it?”

Geralt hums, waiting for the catch.

“Let’s dance!”

Without getting a reply, Jaskier is already dragging Geralt up from his seat. With all the wine and ale in his system, Jaskier’s hold is not strong enough to manhandle a bulky witcher, but they end up at the edge of the dance floor anyway.

Jaskier’s warm palms rest flush against Geralt’s waist, and their faces are only a hand’s breadth away. Geralt can feel the heat on the bard’s flushed cheeks and hear the pounding of his heart in the din of the room. They sway to the gentle music.

It’s…close, too close. Geralt needs a distraction.

“What’s the catch, Jask?”

The bard scoffs, almost offended. “Do I require a reason to dance with you? Or am I not allowed to just enjoy quality time with my favorite witcher?”

Geralt simply lifts an eyebrow.

“All right. You are too smart for your own good.” Jaskier chews on his lips, again, nervously. “There is this one gentleman, who may have been too eager for my…company, despite my explaining of the situation.”

“Which is?”

“That I’m in love and thus unavailable?” Jaskier says as if it’s obvious. Geralt frowns with worry.

“Still?” the witcher asks quizzically. “Valdo left nearly a year ago, Jaskier. It isn’t healthy.”

That is the wrong thing to say because Jaskier flinches at the name. Hurt flashes across those cornflower blue eyes, and Jaskier looks too dejected, too similar to how Geralt found him at his worst, in pain and alone and roaring drunk. He never wants to see Jaskier like that again.

“Well, no matter,” Jaskier chuckles tightly. “It’s not like the guy took the hint and left me alone, so I had to improvise. Now, before you give me another lecture or something, you need to know that I had no choice but to—”

“What did you do?” Geralt lets the music and the crowd lead the two of them around the dance floor, careful not to bump into another couple.

The bard regains his balance, looking contrite.

“I may have implied that, um, the person I’m in love with is here tonight.” He pauses before continuing reluctantly. “Or I may have said plainly that he is…a certain witcher.”

“Jaskier…”

“I know. I know! But he was relentless and I couldn’t get away!” he pleads.

“Hmm.”

Geralt’s hands tighten on Jaskier’s shoulders protectively. The bard is too drunk to even keep up with the dance, let alone fight off some unwanted pursuer. In truth, he’s only relieved that he is here with Jaskier, even though the lie is hitting a bit too close to home.

Holding Jaskier like this, swaying with him gently, is once again reminding Geralt of what he isn’t allowed to dream. He no longer dares these days. Not when he’s the one pushing Jaskier away time and time again, not when he’s the one who let Jaskier slip through his fingers and end up with Valdo, not when he’s the one who inadvertently caused Jaskier’s broken heart.

“Oh fuck.” Jaskier hisses, his body tensing. “He’s coming towards us. Okay, act natural! Wait, what is natural if we were together? Oh…um… Just roll with me, will you?”

Before Geralt can reply, Jaskier’s mouth is on his. The kiss is as chaste as it can be—Jaskier is only pecking at his lips gently, never pushing in. Geralt only remembers to close his eyes after a moment, and forces himself to respond as such. To keep up the front, he tells himself, lest the guy is watching.

And he is. Deliberate footsteps are circling the dance floor, not far from them. Geralt concentrate on identifying the man’s heartbeat and his movement—

Jaskier sucks on his lower lip once, twice, before letting go. He buries his face in the crook of Geralt’s neck, his body still taut like a statue.

“Is he gone?”

Warm breaths ghost over the skin of Geralt’s neck and he struggles to open his eyes. The man is not gone. In fact, he’s observing them intently, just shy of stepping into the dance floor himself. Through the moving crowd, Geralt can make out his golden hair and slim shoulders, almost a spitting image of one Valdo Marx, only a little taller.

Geralt hates this man immediately.

Perhaps it’s those too piercing eyes, or the way his presence is making Jaskier nervous like this, or just the look of him. Geralt narrows his eyes dangerously.

“He is not,” Geralt says into Jaskier’s ear, mimicking a lover’s murmur, all the while not breaking eye contact. He’s heard so many times how his yellow eyes are monstrous, and Geralt is thankful for once. It takes some balls to not cower under a witcher’s glare, one that projects predator from afar. This one crumbles within seconds.

With a triumphant smirk, Geralt moves one hand up to cup the nape of Jaskier’s neck, the other one still pressed between his shoulder blades. He’s laying claim. Hopefully, the light can catch a glint of his fangs, but either way, the man is soon running off, tail between his legs.

“Now he’s gone,” Geralt’s voice comes out deeper and rougher. He clears his throat. “Should be out of the gate by this point.”

They are standing impossibly close. The anxious rise and fall of Jaskier’s chest slow to normal and they separate. Geralt misses the contact. He now has a harder time keeping Jaskier steady on his feet. Yes, that’s the sole reason to miss holding Jaskier.

“I—” Jaskier’s gaze is still fixed somewhere far away behind Geralt’s shoulder, oblivious of how reluctantly the witcher is retracting his hands. “Sorry I did that.”

“Hmm. It worked.”

The bard lets out a dry laugh. “Thank the fuck you are here. I wouldn’t have known what to do.”

“You can take care of yourself.”

Geralt only has one hand at Jaskier’s elbow, holding onto him with a featherlight touch. The music has come to an end and the quiet intimacy dissipates.

“Can I?” Jaskier says half-mockingly. “One look at that guy and I could barely breathe, Geralt, and he doesn’t even look that much like Val—him.”

Jaskier bites his lips in contrite, his eyes dimmed. Geralt dips his head to meet Jaskier’s gaze, the ocean blue so lost.

“Hey. I’ll be here if you need me,” he adds way too quickly, almost spluttering. “—to get rid of unwanted attention, that is.”

Jaskier doesn’t seem to notice the awkwardness. Instead, a soft smile stretches across his face. Wordlessly, the bard leans forward to place a small kiss on Geralt’s cheek.

Geralt has to hide the gasp, his eyes wide. He doesn’t know why he’s more affected this time. Is it because it’s real? A voice at the back of his head asks. The last time—even with Jaskier’s lips all over him—was only a show, but this one is full of Jaskier’s heart.

“You are sweet.” Jaskier wipes at the spot with a thumb. “What would I do without you, my friend?”

“Hmm.”

Friend. It’s one little word that Geralt has rejected time and time again, and just when he begins to want for more, he finds himself trapped in the very same word. The irony would be laughable if Geralt is not missing the warmth of Jaskier against him so much.

How the turntables.

Geralt lets Jaskier retreat into the crowd, and if he turns to smell the lingering scent of Jaskier on his shoulder, nobody needs to know.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #slow dancing #pre-relationship #protective geralt #pining geralt #friendzoned geralt #post-breakup jaskier #sad jaskier #drunk jaskier #the ex is valdo #I know I’ve been using Valdo a lot lately #what can i say #he's a blank slate in canon

[djarrex]

So I was wondering, how was rex and reader first kiss, and also the first time they’d slept together? I loved that story about how they met!! I’m genuinely curious

!!Yessssss :’)

Ok, so for anyone who hasn’t read their first meeting/first date, I’ll link it here. Previously, I had included a little bit of their first date in one of the main installments/chapters as a flashback scene during Priya’s birth and you can find that here.

Find the rest in the Post-Order 66 Rex ML

I’ll pick this up from when they’re riding in the taxi on the way to reader’s apartment (from flashback scene found in second link)

18+ only! dry humping, heavy makeout sesh, groping, non-descriptive sex, piv sex, maybe just a hint of ‘first time’ awkwardness but... y’know. overall, Rex is a caring sweetheart. about 2.9k words #Carried Away

<<<>>>

The back of Rex’s hand, the gauntlet plate, that is, lands on your bare thigh - his gloved palm upright and waiting, fingers relaxed. You can’t help your wide smile that grows upon noticing the gesture accompanied by his unsure, yet confident expression as you gladly lay your hand within his - fingers locking into place. 

"Is... this okay?"

So considerate, appropriately cautious, cute.

You lock eyes with his, making it a point when your tongue barely darts out to wet your lower lip while giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. His lips curl at the corners - a little chuckle seeping through his nostrils before turning his head to watch the streaks of lights fly by outside the transparisteel. The ride isn’t very long, but it’s nearly silent. It must be late enough for the driver to have long surpassed the point of wanting to engage in light conversation, thankfully so, and the music is turned down to the lowest volume - just light pulse of a beat coming from the tiny speaker. The whir of the vessel gliding through the air lanes hums throughout the interior, along with the heavy beat of your heart in your ears. Your fingers stay intertwined with Rex’s the entire time. At one point, briefly, his thumb started to absentmindedly brush back and forth over the thick knuckle of yours, and caught himself when the the taxi slowed to halt as it pulled in front of your complex.

Rex scoots out first - extending his hand towards you and helping you out of the seat and onto the duracrete. As you lean into the taxi’s opening to toss the driver some credits, Rex watches the way you move - the way even the miniscule muscles flex underneath your form-fitting dress and with the movement of what skin is exposed. A sudden breeze catches him off guard when that familiar scent of lavender coming from your hair hits him just like it did back on the dancefloor. His own heart is pounding uncontrollably beneath the protective shell of plastoid, though he’s sure you can hear it. Your hearts mirror one another’s tonight - anxious, eager, sure, ready. 

It's quiet after the taxi speeds off. It's late, and the two of you stand just outside the complex entrance in silence, facing one another and staring deep into each other's eyes. There’s a whole bunch being said, without any words actually being spoken. It’s insane the way Rex is just pulling you in without laying so much as a finger on you right now; his gravitational pull is far too strong for you to resist, not that you’re trying to resist. You want to get dragged into his orbit, burn up upon skirting through his atmosphere. That connection... it’s so noticeably there and it’s making your legs weak - weight settling in the back of your head, pushing you forward and closing the space between your faces. You know it’s affecting him just as it’s affecting you. There is no escape, though neither one of you is trying to flee. 

“Is... this o-” 

Rex is unable to echo his question from the taxi once the remaining space between the two of you quickly vanishes. When your lips meet his for the very first time, something just clicks - like two missing pieces from a puzzle that you didn’t even know were absent have just come together and completed it, effectively ending its drawn-out hiatus. You’re sure there are better analogies out there with deeper meaning but it’s hard to think with how wrapped up in him you’re becoming with something as simple as a ‘first kiss’. Your arms flying to wrap around his neck, Rex pulls you closer - his fingers gripping the fabric at your hips and holding you close. A heavy breath escapes from him and you take the opportunity to poke your tongue out to be immediately greeted by his own. It’s medium-paced; not desperate nor casual. The dance you share with the light clashing of teeth, the rhythm that’s set with every little movement of the muscles in your mouths - it’s just right. 

When you move to break away, panting, your eyes quickly dart to the building standing tall to the right of you before they quickly return to his. An overt cue... 

“Do you wan-”

...One of which Rex takes swift action.

“Yes.” Rex didn’t need for you to finish that line; he was already way ahead of you, and was somehow starting to believe you’d never ask. Any nerves of his have long since vanished, as well as any notion of sleep - other, more exciting things urging him on. He knows where he’ll be waking up in the morning, and it’s not on that bedroll in the barracks that he was practically dreaming of back at 79′s before he’d laid eyes on you. For once, the clone captain will allow himself to indulge in what this night holds. 

The two of you are unable to keep your hands to yourselves during the brief ride in the lift up to your floor. Rex holds you impossibly close, hands pressed into your lower back and practically carrying your floating body through the corridors until arriving at your front door; you’d murmured the directions into his lips along the way. With your back pressed against it, your hand swings behind to blindly input the access code. After a few incorrect entries before hearing the musical awarded access, the door slides open, and your fingers wrap around the dip at the top of his cuirass - pulling him to follow you in. You make it as far as the couch, pushing him down to sit as you descend with him, your mouths staying connected in the process. Rex sinks into the cushions, and his hands begin rove your body experimentally from where you’re straddled over his armored lap. You’re melting into his touch, rocking yourself over the hardness of his codpiece, letting the curve of it rub into your clothed heat as his lips trail wet hot down your chin and jaw.

Never had you previously allowed a night like this to get as far with anyone else. 

“I don’t...” Rex pauses as soon as the words leave you - lifting from your neck and meeting your eyes with a flash of concern sinking in his own. “I don’t usually do this, uh, sort of thing,” you elaborate quickly, your hands gesturing to the current situation - nervous, for some odd reason, even though your mind is very made up. His expression softens and a sweet smile creeps on his lips as he traces your own with the pad of his now bare thumb - the touch featherlight, admiring. “I just- just thought I should clear that up.” You’re not sure what it is exactly that you’re clearing up; perhaps you’re afraid that Rex thinks you’re one of those clone groupies, a woman who frequents 79′s to show her appreciation for the brave soldiers of the Republic. Or maybe that you’re someone who often fucks on the first date, just to be casted aside in the morning or the one who does the casting aside. The look he’s giving you, though, as he gazes up at you with something within his eyes that you can’t yet translate, is leading you to believe that he doesn’t put you into any of those categories - didn’t, from the very moment he’d laid eyes on you.

“Mesh’la,” he breathes against your jaw - the foreign-sounding word completely unknown to you but making you clench all the same - the shape of it forming on his lips and pressing into your tender skin. “The same goes for me. I... don’t wanna do anything that’ll scare you away.”

“And here I am thinking that I’m the one coming on too strong too fast,” you jest. Sure, it has only been a single, incomplete night of knowing him, but as silly and cliché as it sounds, it honest to Maker feels like you’ve known him forever. Normally, you’d conclude that allowing yourself to think that would more than likely end up biting you in the ass in the near future, but you truly don’t think that would be the case this time. Not with him.

“Rex...” Breaking from his lips for a breather and cradling the curve of his cheekbones within your hands, you look deep into his kind eyes, searching for the answer to the question you have yet to ask. “Have you ever...?”

“Yes, yes. It, uh, was always quick... when I did.” Rex chews his cheek - his brows pinching together in unwarranted contrition. “I’m sorry,” he sighs.

“For?”

“I don’t want you to think-”

You cut him off with the hard press of your lips to his - grinding yourself down on his lap with a little more purpose. Anything he was about to say, any inhibitions, dissolves like sugar inside your mouth. Minutes crawl by. Maybe longer, you’re unsure; too lost in this milky euphoria to give a damn about something as complex and currently unimportant as time. Your body is on fire; the heat that radiates from his flesh even from under the armor envelopes you in a different kind of warmth. You find your own hands mapping out the parts of his body that aren’t shelled by a plastoid exterior, landing on the piece that you’ve been grinding yourself on since arriving.

“Can I take this off?” Rex peers down at your hand laying over his codpiece; his perfect pout glistening, eyes darkening - the black orbs nearly swallowing the warm honey they reside in as he begins to look you over. 

“Please.”

If it wasn’t already a known fact that you’d never done this with someone like him before, then the way your fingers fumble around the plastoid in a blind search for the clasp - or whatever is holding this Maker forsaken thing in place - sure as hell gives it away. Sensing your evident struggle, Rex’s hand brushes over yours and the hindrance is unfastened in an instant. You raise a brow at him, and he only grins as you lean down to kiss him again.

Rex stands - your arms and legs squeezing him as he walks you to the bed, his erection teasing with its firm press against you. Laying you down on your back, he watches as you shimmy off the rest of your clothing. His breath catches in his throat upon your removal of your bra, eyes widening and fingers drumming at his sides, and you have to urge him to unfreeze so he can finishing undressing and join you.

“I... really want this,” he informs through heavy breaths - a hint of sheepishness engrained within the gruffness - finally moving to climb on the bed between your legs after stripping nearly everything from him and stacking it all in a neat pile. “You. Really want you.” You smile - the gleam reaching your eyes - and grab his arm to pull him on top of you. He’s still wearing his under-armor bottoms, and your hand shamelessly trails down to palm at the hard bulge from above the skin-tight material. 

“I want this too, Rex. You.” He groans - husky and deep - taking a few moments to relish the way your hand feels as you massage him before making quick work to remove the only thing that’s left covering his beautiful body.

It takes you by complete surprise - his extraordinary size. The way it was trapped within the compression bottoms was totally misleading. You swallow a clump of dry air - your tummy tingling and heart racing at the sight of him now completely nude and in the process of climbing back into position. 

“Maker...”

You say the most prominent and immediate thought out loud, causing him to stop in his tracks.

“What? Is everything okay, is- is this okay?” Rex becomes mildly frantic, concerned - just about to climb away but you grab at his shoulder, fingers pressing into the toned, corded flesh where it curves into the base of his neck at the back. 

“Yes,” you sigh - astounded. “I just... you’re, um...” Your eyes remain glued to the erect, throbbing appendage standing at attention between his legs, noting how it curves slightly upwards at the tip and is aimed at your clenching heat. “You’re big, Rex.” When your eyes flicker back up to his, his brow is raised and his lips are pressed into a thin line. Like he doesn’t already fucking know how well-endowed he is. 

Shutting your eyes and sighing quietly, your face stings from the sound of your breathy voice uttering out such truism. He shifts his weight between the arms that are caging you in on either side and looks down at himself - considering. 

“I - uh-”

“It’s okay,” you chuckle with a quick nod of your head as you spread your legs wider with a slight roll of your hips. Your mound briefly brushes the hot, velvety skin along his shaft when you lift your hips again. Your abdomen involuntarily tightens upon noticing the length of him hovering over you, practically marking how deep inside he’ll be.  “I need you, Rex.”

You learn quickly that you needn’t repeat a thing to an esteemed captain of his merit. 

He prepares you, like any true gentleman would, getting your body ready to accept him fully. Licking, touching, sucking, prodding; it’s all so exquisitely slow, intricate, surprisingly good for someone who has had little to no experience in the arena of foreplay. Thick fingers work you open in deep, pleasant strokes - his knuckles knocking into the most tender and pleasurable tissue with every pass. Rex’s lips go from attending to your breasts and trailing along nearly every inch of your skin before reuniting with your own. He inadvertently works a mild orgasm from you from his delicate tongue and purposeful touch alone - the build-up a soft crescendo until you’re moaning his name in the most breathy voice you’ve ever entertained.

You’ve never felt so safe and cared for during moments like these; now is a whole different experience than what you’d encountered in the past. You don’t have an extensive list of previous partners, but all of the ones who had made your short list were boys. Immature, needy, desperate boys. Boys who could never compare to the man who’s currently breaching you with a very gentle roll of his hips laced with all the care in the galaxy. Not to mention, his size. In that alone Rex is unmatched. 

Your lips barely disconnect; the soft whimpers and moans shared between the two of you are breathed into one another and swallowed. You’ve never experienced anything so tender yet deliberate at the same time - the combination of soft meeting its opposite making your head spin and toes curling. Nails forming small crescents indenting into his skin, you hang on to Rex’s broad shoulders as he rocks into you. It’s a steady pace he sets right from the get-go and he keeps that all the way up until your second orgasm flows through you, consequently causing a hint of resistance put up by your clenching walls, affecting his length’s repeating reentry. Not much is said, but a lot is spoken through eye contact. Neither of you want this to end, but when it inevitably does, you’d want to do this again. You want to do more than this; you both want to see each other again. When he finishes, it’s the gravelly, drawn-out groan falling out of his throat that causes you to see the stars from where they’re hung outside Coruscant’s orbit as if you’re sitting directly in front of them, just an arm’s length away. 

You’re cleaned up in such a meticulous and tender way that only Rex could provide. He falls to your side - taking you with him as his strong arms wrap around your torso. It’s insane; the way you fell into each other earlier this evening is comparable to fate itself. You think you’re going crazy, that you’re feeling all these things only after having known Rex for less than several hours, that you’re diving into something too hard and too quickly.

“Do you feel it, too?” 

You don’t know what possessed you to ask him instead of keeping it locked up in your buzzing mind, still keyed up from the best sex you’ve ever had, but it’s out there. Unable to see his face from your position, your heart starts racing with nerves, and in the several moments of silence and lingering regret, you mentally curse at yourself for being so forward.

“Yeah,” Rex says with a soft smile evident in his tone - a huge weight being lifted from your shoulders and tossed aside. “I do.”

With that, his arms hold you just a little tighter and he places a chaste kiss on your temple. It’s not long before the sound of soft snoring fills the otherwise quiet bedroom, and minutes later you’re right there alongside him - content, fluttering heart and all.

<<<>>>

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#once again. I got Carried Away #post-order 66 rex #djarrex writes #inbox #Rex Gayiyla #captain rex x reader #captain rex x f!reader #captain rex smut #star wars fic #request(?) #request

[tonguetiedraven]

Hi! I’m the anon who ask about baby!Rin!

I hope for a fic where teen Rin is transformed into a baby/toddler 🥺

Also i’m in love with every single story you had wrote 😍❤️ you’re so good!

Thank you so much!!! I'm so glad you enjoy my stories ^^

This is a fantastic prompt, and I'm going to make it two parts because my writing friends gave me some fantastic ideas for it. So here you go!

Part: One (you're here)

“Someone,” Yukio said slowly in the sort of tone that always made his students stand straighter, “please explain to me why my brother is now a toddler.”

Rin squealed and extended his small arms towards Yukio. His tail whipped wildly through the air, whacking into Ryuuji’s face and leaving a few excited sparks behind.

Ryuuji stepped forward with a worried frown and an attempt at a contrite expression. “We’re not certain, sir.” (It had been ages since they had called him sir.) “Shi—er, we found him outside Kato hall.”

“Yu-yu!” Rin tried to lunge out of Ryuuji’s arms and Ryuuji barely caught him before he crashed to the floor. Yukio hurried forward and relieved him of his twin. Rin had been an entirely unpredictable child from the stories he’d heard.

Rin promptly cuddled close and stuck his nose against Yukio’s throat. His tail wagged happily through the air as he wound himself around Yukio like a koala.

“We found him outside Kato hall. He was crying and didn’t seem to recognize us right away? We wouldn’t have known it was him if it wasn’t for the flames and tail.” Konekomaru said after a moment.

“He still looks like Rin,” Ryuuji muttered, shooting Renzou an annoyed look.

He must have been the one to find him.

Yukio did not have a lot of experience with babies. He had none, if he was being honest. He had no idea how old Rin was now, and he certainly had no idea what might have done it.

“How… what…” He didn’t even know what to ask. This was insane.

Rin lifted his head from Yukio and grinned. His nose was running. “Ry-ry!”

“Huh?”

Ryuuji shuffled forward. “I’m still here, bud.” He gave a little wave that Rin mirrored with a happy squeal. Apparently satisfied that he hadn’t lost ‘Ry-ry’, Rin stuck his thumb in his mouth and flopped against Yukio’s chest, kicking his feet a little and grinning at Ryuuji from his spot. Ryuuji smiled at him for a moment longer and turned his gaze back to Yukio.

“Yeah, we got no idea. He looks about the same age as Asuka.”

“Wh—”

“Juuzou’s baby.” Renzou offered. Instead of helping in any way, he was recording Rin. Yukio was probably going to have to kill him this time. He’d been far too patient during the dog debacle.

“How old is she?”

“A year.”

Yukio looked down at Rin in horror. One year old? He was going to have to baby proof the dorm.

— — — — —

The first immediate problem was diapers.

Renzou, thankfully, knew how to fold up a fabric diaper which would hold them off while Konekomaru and Izumo rushed to the store to buy real diapers. Yukio set to baby proofing the dorm as quickly as he could only to hear Shiemi, and Renzou screeching for him a minute later while Ryuuji yelped in pain.

“What?” He hurried into the room to see the old couch on fire, Ryuuji’s nose bleeding, and Rin tangled up in a mess of vines he was rapidly burning and ripping apart. The toddler was cry-screaming up a storm and pounding his tiny fist against the massive vines as huge tears streamed down his cheeks.

“What happened?!”

Ryuuji, shoving a tissue at his own nose, hurried towards Rin. “He didn’t want the diaper.”

“He swung at Bon!” Renzou squeaked. He’d pulled his k’rik out.

“Put that away!” Yukio rushed across the room as Ryuuji reached Rin. His twin stopped prying at the vines long enough to reach for Ryuuji and sob like his heart was breaking.

“I’m okay, buddy. Just a scratch.”

It was not just a scratch. He was bleeding a lot. He was going to need to get an ice pack for that. Of course his toddler twin still had super strength. That was evident from the way he’d torn through the vines Shiemi had summoned.

Ryuuji got his hands around Rin’s wrists and stopped them from swinging through the air. He smiled, making his eyes squint a little with the size of it — Yukio didn’t think he’d ever seen Ryuuji smile quite that widely — and shrank down a little so he was closer to Rin’s height.

“Hey,” he said in a cheerful tone, “don’t cry. We’re gonna take care of it.”

“What happened?” Yukio asked again, because ‘he didn’t want the diaper’ hadn’t actually explained anything.

Renzou motioned towards the mess of vines as Ryuuji carefully pulled Rin free. His toddler-twin was giggling now. The k’rik was still out, and had Renzou planned on summoning Yamantaka? Surely not.

“I tried to get the diaper on him and he took a swing at me! Bon intercepted and Rin got flamey. He caught the couch on fire and hit Bon. Shiemi had too—”

Yukio’s phone started to vibrate. He raised a finger to silence Renzou’s indignant explanation and answered it.

“Hello—”

“What are we supposed to do about Rin’s tail?” Izumo asked before he could finish his greeting.

Tail.

Yukio’s eyes darted to Rin who Ryuuji had sat on the table. He was bouncing happily with one hand wrapped around Ryuuji’s index finger, and didn’t seem to notice that he’d wrecked the couch or that Ryuuji’s nose was still dripping blood. Shiemi had Nee growing little flowers that were tickling Rin’s nose and making him giggle. His tail was wagging with each giggle.

“Um,” Yukio blinked as his brain tried to work through the situation and question. How would a diaper work with the tail very much in the way?

“And they gotta be okay if they catch fire, right? No chemicals or plastic.”

“Uh…”

What had Shirou used? He knew his father had dealt with the diapers because he remembered hearing Shirou commiserate with a new father at the monastery about the woes of dirty diapers.

“Oh, great idea, Koneko! Thanks, Yukio. We got it. Let us know if we need to get anything else.”

“Don’t forget the baby powder and wipes.”

“Bath stuff too,” Ryuuji called. He shifted away from Rin, his finger still firmly trapped by Rin’s tiny fist, and changed the tissue in his nose out for a fresh one with a wince.

Rin leaned forward and ate one of the purple flowers Shiemi had grown.

“No!” Yukio yelped, scrambling over to the table.

“You know what,” Renzou’s k’rik clinked as he disassembled it. “I’m gonna take over the baby proofing duty. I can text them the list too. We gotta get those plug things.”

Renzou left as Shiemi and Yukio pulled Nee back out of Rin’s mouth and Ryuuji pried Rin’s tail loose from Yukio’s arm.

— — — — —

Konekomaru's brilliant idea was cutting a line in each diaper and using tape and safety pins to wrap that around Rin's tail. It fit snuggly and gave Rin full mobility with his tail.

Unfortunately, Rin still absolutely despised his diapers. It took at least three of them to pin Rin down long enough to get the diapers on, and he couldn't even feel bad for his twin's future embarrassment about this process because getting a diaper on the demonically strong toddler was a feat. Yukio was too tired for sympathy.

Rin kicked and screamed. He rolled around like a wiggle worm and punched. He'd wail and light on flames. Singing would calm him down for a moment, but Ryuuji and Konekomaru were the only ones comfortable with singing. Dangling something shiny in front of him would also work for a few moments, but they had to be extra careful Rin didn't grab it.

After the first diaper change, Yukio no longer bothered putting Rin in any sort of pants. the shirt was more than enough. It was warm enough that Rin would be fine, and it just wasn't worth the trouble.

They all got nicknames, because Rin couldn't manage their full names. Most were intuitive, like Ryry and Yuyu. Konekomaru became Nee (much to Nee's confusion), Shiemi became Meme, Izumo became Momo, Renzou was pi (which they imagined was supposed to be pink). Shura was Baba, and they had no idea why.

Rin had a demonically strong grip, and everyone was struggling with it. Izumo was the first to be attacked by it, and her screech had Yukio rushing in to find Rin practically climbing up her long pigtails. She was attempting to pry them loose to no avail.

She wore her hair up in a bun after that.

Glasses were no safer than hair. Yukio had several pairs snatched off his nose, and he could not get Rin’s messy fingerprints off the lenses. He melted a pair of Konekomaru’s in his fiery grip, and he got a special glee in knocking them off noses.

For Ryuuji it was earrings. Yukio was impressed at just how quickly Ryuuji could get them all off when Rin’s devious hands were snagging them. Shiemi ran into the hair problem as well, which left Shura and Renzou as the ones most able to hold Rin without being in grabbing danger.

Aside from grabbing hair, clothes, earrings, and glasses, Rin also grabbed absolutely anything that wasn’t bolted down and attempted to shove it in his mouth. He seemed to feel that the only way to explore the now changed world was through his mouth, and damn if he wasn’t determined to explore it all.

“What’s that?” Yukio demanded as he came in the room and saw Rin mouthing something that was silver.

“My True Cross pendant,” Shura answered without looking up from her report. Rin was perched on her hip and seemed content gumming at the long end.

“Isn’t… isn’t that dangerous?”

“Nah. It’s steel, so it’s not like his gums’ll snap them. He hasn’t got his teeth yet either. Just a couple of nubs. It's not got any holy power either, so it can't poison him."

Rin dropped the pendant and reached out for Yukio. He had tests to grade and lessons to plot out, but Rin’s lip was sticking out and his eyes were welling with tears, so Yukio accepted him from Shura’s arms. Rin immediately caught his glasses and flung them through the air victoriously.

Yukio sighed and pat Rin’s back. He’d just have to make do without his glasses for a little bit.

#ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #my tumblr fics #rin okumura #yukio okumura #ryuji suguro #bon suguro #ryuuji suguro #aoex #konekomaru miwa #izumo kamiki #exwires #shiemi moriyama #renzou shima #rin is going to be a tiny terror #wait until teething really starts

[sundaysundaes]

Thirst

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Smut, Fluff | 3.8k | Vampire AU

Summary: You have walked the earth for more than a hundred years but your eternity finally means something the second you meet a human boy with smiles brighter than the sun.

Warnings: Vampire!Reader X Human!Hyuck, unprotected sex, blood sucking

“Wait, ah…” 

You pull back at the sound of his voice, fingers squeezing his upper arm. “Nervous?”

Donghyuck throws his head back and runs a hand over his face. He averts his gaze, slightly hiding behind his lean fingers. “Of course, I’m nervous,” he confesses, the tip of his ears turning scarlet. “I have a cute girl sitting on my lap, about to drink blood from my neck—how could I not be nervous?”

You reach out to him, gently running your fingertips at the side of his throat, and see him swallow hard at your touch. You can hear his heartbeat soaring, which only fuels your thirst for his blood. It has been days since you last drank from him and the flame in your throat is scorching. You know that if you don’t do something about it fast, you’ll lose what’s left of your humanity.

“Hyuck…” You plead, gripping against the collar of his black shirt. “I’m… I really need to drink…”

All the anxiety on his face is replaced instantly with concern. “Shit, you’re right, I’m sorry.” He takes a deep breath, unfastening two of his top buttons to reveal more of his collarbones. The previous bite marks have begun to fade on his skin, appearing almost as faint as the little mole he has on his Adam’s apple. He’s beautiful, so beautiful, that if your mind wasn’t too clouded with the thoughts of consuming human blood, you would praise and cherish every little detail of his features with your lips.

Donghyuck closes his eyes, eyebrows adjoined in the middle in anticipation of your bite. His hand is fisting his collar, slowly tugging it down to reveal more sun-kissed skin to your glowing eyes. “H-have it your way.”

The way he’s reacting like a child curling up in fear of a syringe being plunged into their skin, makes you feel contrite but there’s no other option but to consume what he offers. Otherwise, your thirst for blood will drive you to the brink of your sanity, forcing you to do something even more terrible to him.

You try your best to divert your attention and focus more on trying to comfort him, even when your entire body nearly blazes in flame. Softly, you brush your lips against the column of his throat.

Donghyuck shivers, his breathing tatters. “Don’t—“ He curls his fingers, nails sinking into his palms when he feels your mouth move to lay wet kisses down his chest. “Don’t do that, please.”

“I’m trying to calm you down.”

“Well, you’re doing the opposite 'cause then I’ll be nervous for an entirely different reason.” Donghyuck brings the back of his hand to his mouth, murmuring the words against his skin. But despite the heat that warms his cheeks, he does seem a bit more relaxed, slightly smiling sheepishly at you over his flirtatious words. “I’m fine, just do it.”

You nod, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose. Caught off guard, the blush blooms a little wider on his face but he tenderly strokes your cheek. “We’ll do that again after you’re finished,” he promises, “A lot of that.” His hooded eyes are captivated with the way your lips glisten under the slide of his thumb. “Right here.”  

You smile in return. Landing yet another soft kiss to his jaw this time, you extend your fangs and make your mark.

Donghyuck winces away from the pain of your cuspids puncturing the skin under his jaw, right between the earlobe and the collarbone. His hand immediately finds your shoulder, fingers twisting against the fabric of your dress. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes shut close as he endures the pain, but in the next few seconds, his breathing gradually becomes slower.

His head swirls as the rush of endorphin fills his system, elevating him with bliss. He slides his hand down from your shoulder to your arm, resting it on the dip of your waist. You can hear him curse under his breath but he slowly relaxes, his body reclining with you pressed tightly against his chest.

“You’re not so gentle today, are you?” He chuckles softly, slurring a little bit as his thoughts become hazy with ecstasy. “You don’t usually bite me like that.”

You can’t respond, too busy drowning in the pleasantness of his blood.

“So serious.” He quietly laughs. “Well, I guess, it has been a while since we did this so you must be very thirsty.” His free hand slips around your neck, tangling your locks around his fingers. He lets his lips brush against your strands as he murmurs, “I’m sorry… It must have been painful.”

It was painful. So painful that you were about to lose your mind, but with Donghyuck’s arms wrapped around your body protectively, his warm skin under your fingertips, and his sweet, sweet blood on your tongue, every pain, every suffering, every torture you’ve experienced vanishes into a blur.

“Calm down,” he whispers, his honeyed voice soothes you more than anything else in the world. “You don’t have to rush. I’m not going anywhere.”

And as he relishes the feeling of your tongue on his skin, your teeth sinking to draw even more blood, he closes his eyes again, and witnesses a flashback behind his eyelids.

Eight years-old Lee Donghyuck stood on the frozen ground with his tiny gloves covering his trembling fingers. Smokes of warm breaths were clouding over his mouth. His teeth chattered from the cold; a weird, repetitive melody to his ears. And although his tears were no longer falling, his reddened cheeks were still lined with them. 

“Jaeminnie…” He sniffed, one arm hugging himself by the waist while the other one moved to rub his puffy eyes. “Jaeminnie, where are you…?”

His warm chocolate brown beanie was no longer covering his head—a small reminder of how he had previously tripped himself and scraped his knee on the way down. It hurt. His trousers were ripped open from the fall, enough to show the small bleeding wound on his right knee. Kissed by the cold, his ears were red to the tips, freezing. 

He was alone. And lost. And no matter how much he called out for Jaemin’s name over and over again, no one ever came to reply.

Losing strength, Donghyuck fell to his knees. His gloved covered fingers sank into the five centimeters deep white snow and he began to cry, as loudly as he could, just like how he usually did at nights when he was too scared of the monster lurking under his bed.

He cried, and he cried, and he cried, and then he stopped.

He was not alone.

Donghyuck had his gaze on you; his big, watery, round eyes blinking in surprise. Your dress was tainted with splotches of red, fresh liquid that dripped from your chin as you just feasted upon a human. Turning around to look at him, Donghyuck noticed something peculiar.

Your eyes were glowing, strikingly so. Even in the darkness, even when the moon didn’t set afoot to shine that night in the silenced forest, Donghyuck saw them shining like the stars. And they were brighter, much brighter than anything he had ever witnessed.

The little boy stopped crying and gazed back at you. But no matter how cold your eyes were as they raked in his features, Donghyuck was not as much afraid as he was curious of why you could stand in the middle of December, wearing nothing but a sleeveless knee-high summer dress. And he was still starstruck with your glowing topaz eyes.

When he reached out a hand, you took a step back by instinct. Humans made you nervous, especially after your last encounter with the hunters. The memory of one of them nearly driving a stake into your heart made you more cautious than ever, even when your opponent was only a child.

Donghyuck stood up and dared himself to take another step and this time you bared your teeth in response. Your natural human face suddenly dispersed into a form of fear the second Donghyuck saw your teeth.

They were fangs, small but sharp enough to tear skin apart. You snarled, like a beast in a corner, ready to pounce when threatened. 

But Donghyuck’s fear only lasted for a minute, while his curiosity and admiration lasted forever.

“You…” Donghyuck spoke, his voice quivered from the cold and perhaps, excitement. Blood was still dripping from the corner of your mouth and he saw a long cut, spreading from your right palm to her wrist. “Are you hurt? You’re bleeding…”

Your eyes widened in surprise at his words, blinking twice before your shoulders began to loosen.

“If you’re hurt, I have band-aids,” Donghyuck said, immediately shoving his small hand inside his pocket to grab two blue band-aids with soccer balls printed on them. He showed them to you, his teeth still chattering from the cold. “See?”

You examined him more, looking for any kind of sign that he might be a threat to your existence but it was no use. Donghyuck was as harmless as he was adorable. He didn’t even have the strength to keep his little, stubby fingers steady from the cold.

“Why are you crying?” You asked instead, standing a little better in a less offensive stance. 

Donghyuck finally remembered. “Nana… Jaeminnie’s gone… He fought with his brother so we went out here to have some time for ourselves but… But we got separated and now he’s gone...”

“In the woods like this?” You wiped the blood off your mouth with the back of your hand. “What, do you want to die? It’s not safe.”

“N-no—I don’t want to die… I didn’t mean it to be like this.” The little boy shook his head. “I was just trying to help… Jaeminnie looked sad and I wanted to help…”

You fell quiet for a moment, noticing how Donghyuck’s eyes had turned watery once again. You retracted your hands, no longer had your claws out to defend yourself. “Maybe your friend’s already gone home first.” 

“Y-you think?” Donghyuck’s eyes grew hopeful and that was when you realized that the boy was not crying because he was lost in the woods late at night, nor was he crying because he thought his friend abandoned him. Donghyuck was crying because he was worried sick about him. “W-well, if he’s home then that’s great… I really hope he’s with his family again… Fighting is bad…”

So frail, you thought, humans are so frail. Leave them and they cry. Break them and they die.

You sighed. You couldn’t find the heart to leave him alone.“Come with me,” you said, “I’ll help you find your way out of the woods. You can check whether he’s home or not after that.”

And Donghyuck was not one to think twice when people offered him help. With a bright smile, he let his little feet carry him closer to your spot. “I’m Donghyuck,” he said, smiling brightly as he stood beside you. “And you are?”

You glanced at him, noticing how his bangs were fluttering from the winter breeze. His nose was red and his skin, although it was slightly tanned, was thin and easy for you to sink your teeth into if you wanted to. 

You told him your name and you had to repeat it twice until he could pronounce it correctly. He smiled even warmer. “Your name is pretty. Just like you, Noona!”

Noona? You almost snorted. When was the last time someone ever called you that?

But you kept yourself in silence and although you appeared cold, Donghyuck managed to find your charm in his own way. 

“Can I hold your hand on the way out, Noona?”

“Don’t get too full of yourself, brat.”

Twenty years-old Lee Donghyuck smiles at the memory, even when he’s somewhat dazed from the chemical of your saliva. He embraces you tighter, sighing close to your ear, “It took a while before you warmed up to me. I’m just so glad you accept me the way I am.”

That’s my line. You close your eyes, fingers curling against the back of his shirt. You can faintly hear his heartbeat growing slower and during the time you begin to worry, Donghyuck caresses your cheek.  

“Can we…” He breathes heavily. “Stop for a moment?” His head swirls, always an aftereffect from having his blood sucked more than he can contain. But even then, he still smiles like always.

“Oh…” Embarrassed and startled, you pull away, immediately wiping the trace of blood on the corner of your lips with the back of your hand. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… Umm…” Donghyuck witnesses your fangs before they’re fully retracted, as you turn away, shy and ashamed, hiding the only thing that distinguishes you from a normal human. 

Donghyuck smiles wider, and wider, until he produces this little chuckle that always sends a trickle of warmth and desire through your soundless heart. “You’re adorable, come here,” he says, hugging you from behind and tugging you closer to his chest, your intertwined hands lying idly on your lap.

After years have passed by since your first encounter, Donghyuck has become stronger and taller, with broader shoulders and veiny muscles appearing along his wrists. You, in return, stay as young as always, never changing. But like this, sitting above his thighs and curling up to his chest, you look like a normal girl, perhaps even a few months younger than he is.

“Hyuck...” 

“Hmm?”

“Did it... hurt?”

“When I fell from heaven?”

You don’t indulge him with his jokes. “When I bit you, did it hurt?”

“Yeah, but I like it.” He grins, placing his chin on your shoulder. "Seems like I’ve developed a kink for it.” When you don’t mirror his laugh, he embraces you tighter. “I’m fine,” he whispers to your ear, tickling you with his warm breath. “Just a little low on blood, but come on, it’s nothing new.”

You don’t say anything but Donghyuck understands how guilt is gnawing at you from the inside. “Hey,” he gently turns your body around until he has his eyes peering into yours. You’re reluctant, not sure how to face him with the look of guilt on your face. “I said I’m fine. Can’t you see?” he coos, smiling with his chocolate brown eyes turning crescents. “Don’t look like that. You know I don’t like it when you’re blaming yourself for drinking my blood.”

“But it’s…” You nibble on your lower lip. “It’s not right.”

“You’re just filling your needs,” Donghyuck corrects you. “What’s wrong with it? I do it all the time. Think about this as your late-night snack.”

“Hyuck, I’m snacking on your blood.”

“And yet you’re the one who complains about it. You see how weird that is?” You shoot him a glare but Donghyuck counters back with a pout—a habit from his childhood days that somehow only occurs more often now that he’s an adult. “Look, I volunteered to do this. I want you to drink my blood.” He swats the bangs out of your eyes, leaning close. “I’ll be pissed-off if you drink from someone else, actually. You’re supposed to be mine, just as much as I am yours.”

It’s funny how you’re superior than him in terms of experience, strength, and possibly anything else, but he shamelessly talks like he owns you. And you don’t mind, not at all, because after living behind the shadows for so long, it’s nice to have someone as bright as the sun holding you captive under his light.

You trail your fingers through the blood on his neck, painting his skin with crimson. “I’ve made a mess,” you mumble to yourself and Donghyuck stiffens, even stops breathing for a second. You dip your head into the crook of his neck, darting out your tongue to wipe the rest of his blood away, slowly and gently so you won’t scrape his skin with your fangs.

“Don’t hold back.” He holds you closer until your teeth are grazing against the supple skin. “It’s okay if you want to do it again.”

The temptation is too much, too strong, and you can’t find the will or strength to decline. “T-then... Just a little more.”

Donghyuck’s ragged breathing devolves into soft moans that ring in your ears, and you want him so desperately in every sense of the word. “Fuck, it’s so weird that it feels this good,” he sighs, the back of his head pressed against the wall behind him. “Do I taste this good to you too?”

You hum, squeezing his shoulder.

He smiles between deep sighs. “Then, I guess, we’re both each other’s drugs.”

You only take a sip of his blood and lick the rest until nothing seeps out from his wound. Donghyuck is in a haze, eyes nearly closed when he smiles softly. “Are you done?”

You nod, wiping your mouth clean. “Thank you.”

“You’re being too formal.” He titters. “But you’re welcome. Anytime you want.”

You don’t really blush, not when you’ve lived for more than a century, but Donghyuck has his way to break into your facade and knows when he’s succeeding. He says there’s just something in the way you avert your gaze, the way you lick your lips nervously, or the way you put a hand on his chest as if you were about to push him away, but at the same time, making sure that he stayed near.

Donghyuck understands all that. He knows you like the back of his hand. 

“Listen to me,” Donghyuck says, cupping your face with both hands so he can stare directly into your glowing eyes. “If you ever crave for blood, you come to me, okay? I won’t let you starve. I won’t let you die. You can drink from me, as much as you want. I want you to.”

You’re surprised at the sudden pressure on his words and Donghyuck’s hands are hot, nearly scorching compared to your icy cold skin but they’re comfortable. He reminds you of the sun, of its heat on your skin during the day, reminding you how good your life was as a human.

“But I’m not even alive, Hyuck,” you say, smiling weakly as you lean more into his touch.

“Scientifically, no.” He shifts closer to press his forehead against yours, his heat seeping through your skin. “But to me, you’re much more alive—and you make me feel more alive than anyone I’ve ever known.”

You want to meet his eyes, but his stare is directed to your lips. “Is that a compliment or a white lie?” You whisper, and his eyes grow half-lidded when he sees you moving your lips to form a sentence.

“It’s the truth.” Donghyuck swallows the soft noise you make directly with his mouth, lips slanting against yours perfectly like pieces of a puzzle. He groans from the back of his throat when he tastes a hint of his blood on your tongue, kissing you deeper with more passion.

Being with Donghyuck is suffocating and it’s funny because you don’t even need to breathe to live. It’s suffocating in the sense of how desperate his kisses are, how there is only one innocent kiss at the beginning that only lasts for a few seconds and then vanishes entirely, changing into hard, bruising, deep ones that feel possessive and dominating.

But being with him is also comforting. He gives you solace you don’t know you need. His touch, a stark contrast to his kisses, is gentle, almost silky smooth whenever his hands glide on your skin. He’s the only one who knows how to make you laugh, even when you can hardly remember how or the sound that you make when you do. His laughter is contagious, his protested whines are both annoying and endearing. He’s the fire that keeps you alive.

“Hyuck—” You circle your fingers around his wrist, feeling the heartbeat that faintly beats under the skin. “Wait, you’re losing a lot of blood—”

“I don’t care,” he gasps against your mouth, yanking his hand from your hold so he can cup your cheek. “I’m fine, so let’s just—“ You let him overpower you for once to do as he pleases and he pushes you down to the carpeted floor, crawling on top of your body. “I want you—for two weeks, I’ve been—I’ve missed you—”

Donghyuck is adorable when he wants something so desperately, like the way he furrows his eyebrows as he runs his fingers on his keyboards. The way he’s shouting a train of expletives at his computer screen before he leaps out of his chair, punching the air when he finally completes the mission. 

Donghyuck is captivating when he desires to achieve something in his life, like the way he practices dancing over and over again to earn a scholarship to college. Or the way he told you he loved you a few months ago, and no matter how many times you said no, telling how ridiculous of him to even think about being with a vampire, he never relented. 

And Donghyuck is beautiful—so out worldly beautiful—when he wants you.

It’s beautiful, the little moan that escapes his lips when you touch him back. Even the slightest touch at the right spot can make him shiver and he blushes when you notice him react that way, immediately saying, “It’s just cold here, okay? And your ice-cold skin isn’t helping.” 

It’s beautiful, the way a bead of sweat rolls down his temple as he’s sheathed deep inside you, not quite moving yet as he tries to catch his breath, his cheeks flushed. “You’re driving me insane,” he confesses, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, grazing his lips against your skin as he sighs. “Can we stay like this forever?”

It’s beautiful, the way he laughs when you answer him with, “Actually yes, we can, if you’re willing to be turned into a vampire.” The appalled look on his face only stays for a split second before he beams at you, his smile bright enough to replace the sun. “That doesn’t sound so bad,” he giggles, taking your earlobe between his teeth as he whispers, “Any man would be happy to sacrifice their souls to be able to make love to you for eternity. Including me.” And as he moves back to your lips, he adds, “Especially me.”

It’s beautiful, the way he throws his head back in pleasure at the feeling of you clenching around him. The way he murmurs expletives while biting his lip as he brings his eyes down to you. His expression is erotic, his voice obscene, his lips are parted and bruised. His hands are on your knees as he spreads your legs apart, pushing himself deeper inside. “I can never get enough of you. I—“ He flinches when his thrust hits your sweet spot and you squeeze harder around him in response.

It’s beautiful, the way he rambles when the sensation becomes too much. “The way you feel around me—” He places open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his hips moving frantically at a faster pace. “Y-your entire existence—” His hand heads over to your breast, his thumb sliding over your nub. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

And it’s fucking beautiful, the way he says your name in a soft gasp as he comes inside you, his arms trembling when he places them on the floor on each side of your head to keep him from collapsing on top of you. His temple is pressed against your collarbone and he quivers when you kiss his hair. His lips immediately chase after yours when his name escapes your mouth, and he kisses you again, and again, as if he hasn’t been kissing you a thousand times already.

“Stay with me,” he begs, his hooded eyes nearly hidden behind the bangs that are damp from his sweat. “I’ll keep you alive—as alive as you make me feel so please just…”

Don’t leave me.

***

#fullsunnet #haechan smut #haechan fluff #haechan imagines #haechan scenarios #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct fluff #haechan x reader #haechan drabbles #nct timestamps #haechan timestamps #nct u #nct #nct dream #nct 127 #lee donghyuck #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct dream smut #nct dream fluff #i don't know what the fuck did i just write #wrote this in like an hour or two???? #i'm sorry you had to read this #mine #sundaysundaes