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stalkerofthegods · 5 months

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Ares Deep dive

Ares

Herbs • Garlic, basil, buttercup, yarrow, ginger, anything with tiny yellow flowers, spicy stuff (ex- peppers, paprika), Water hemlock, Snapdragon, Poppy, Nettle, Magnolia, Ginger

Animals• Vulture, Colchian Dragon, serpents, barn owls, woodpeckers, dogs, horses, Stymphalian birds, boars

Zodiac • Aries

Colors • Red, black, and dark purple

Crystal• garnets, rubies, bloodstone, obsidian, red scoria, smoky quartz, red jasper, carnelian

Symbols• a helm, a shield, a spear and sometimes a sheathed sword, flaming torch, armor, palace, four fire-breathing horses

Jewelry you can wear in their honor• Iron, armor

Diety of• masculinity, civil order, Battle lust, courage, City guards/police, Rage, Violent deeds, Fights, Murder, Manslaughter, Quarrels, cheese, dancing, rebellion

Patron of• the Amazons, City defenses, City defenders

Offerings• Dragons, Dragon imagery, Dragon art, Strong dark red wine, Strong whiskey, Pure water, Black coffee, Black tea, Olive oil, Beef, Red meats in general, Cooked fat from meats, Blood from cut meats, Heavy spices, Spicy foods, Garlic, Red, black, and dark purple candles, Art or statues of Him, Statues of horses or dogs, Weapons, armor, and shields (ex- art, statues, toys, handmade.), Trophies, Spicy jerky, Sport drinks / protein shakes, Hand drawn or printed art of HimArt or images of dogs, horses, and vultures, Feathers from vultures, woodpeckers, or barn owls, Iron or steel jewelry, Red flowers (ex- roses), Thorns, Miniature or toy weapons and armor (especially helmets), Snake skin, Animal teeth, Write down your fears or successes and give them to Him, Medals and ribbons you’ve earned, Antiques, Photos of riots or past wars, hot sauce, Pork ribs, homemade meals, poultry, hare, venison, wolf hearts, chili peppers, lemons, green bananas, unripe peaches, batons, bullets, kendo swords, shields, military helmets, bullet-proof vests, military boots, military belts, dynamite sticks, grenades, lion pelts, shark teeth, ram skulls, explosives (handle carefully), Medals or Certificates, dog fur or dog teeth (ethically sourced), horseshoes, bull horns, war memorabilia, broken glass, spicy jerky or twiggy sticks, Carmel, sushi, stormwater, spicy salsa, Mexican food, chocolate or chia pudding, burnt matches, cigarette butts

Devotional• Create a playlist and listen to music that makes you feel brave/empowered, Donate to the Rape Crisis Center or other similar programs, Donate and support victims of war, Cook with garlic or heavy spices that you haven’t tried before, Try new things and don’t feel ashamed about doing so, Tell Him about your accomplishments, Tell Him about your fears, Learn about shadow work and try it for yourself, Learn about history, past wars, and past riots, Learn what they accomplished or failed to accomplish, Learn and educate yourself about the downsides of war and what can happen to the people affected by wars, Partake in combat sports (ex- martial arts, fencing), Exercise, Play some strategy games like chess, Risk, and Civilization, Stand up for yourself and what you believe in, write to your governor/mayor for things you want to see changed, attend riots, Pray to Him (ex-strength, ability to fight and defeat enemies, courage, to keep others safe, and help in a battle), go to a protest, learn first aid, educate yourself on PTSD, do unharmful things that give you adrenaline rushes (ex- amusement park rides, bungee jumping), watch action movies with him, pet a dog, Playing Strategy Games, Work on managing your anger, bones, go do axe throwing, a playlist that makes you feel, brave, energized and confident, keep track of your successes (this can be daily tasks, when you conquer them cross them off, and then offer the list to Ares), write down or draw art of your fears, go to a rage room, pray or meditate during thunderstorms, watch war movies and documentaries and play war/combat and strategy video games

Ephithets•Adámastos/adamastus/ἀδάμαστος/ΑΔΑΜΑΣΤΟΣ/ἀδάμας -unconquerable & indestructible, Ænyálios/enyalius/ἐνυάλιος/ΕΝΥΑΛΙΟΣ -war-God, Alcimus, Álkimos/alcimus/ἄλκιμος/ΑΛΚΙΜΟΣ/Adj - valiant, brave, Alloprósallos/alloprosallus/ἀλλοπρόσαλλος/ΑΛΛΟΠΡΟΣΑΛΛΟΣ- loyal to the struggle and to the souls who are engaged in it, Ánax/ἄναξ/ΑΝΑΞ -lord, king, Aphneiós/aphneius/ἀφνειός/ΑΦΝΕΙΟΣ -rich, wealthy, Arrectus, Árriktos/arrectus/ἄρρηκτος, ΑΡΡΗΚΤΟΣ -unbreakable, Brotoctonus, Enyalius, Hippius, Hoplochares/Hoplodupus/Hoplophorus, Íppios/hippius/ἵππιος/ÍΠΠΙΟΣ -horseman, Mægasthænís/megasthenes/μεγασθενής/ΜΕΓΑΣΘΕΝΗΣ/μεγασθενές -very strong, Megasthenes/Mægasthænís., Ombrimothymus:See Omvrimóthymos/Omvrimóthymos/ombrimo hymus/ὀμβριμόθυμος/ΟΜΒΡΙΜΟΘΥΜΟΣ/ὀβρῐμόθῡμος -doughty, indomitable, Oplódoupos/hoplodupus/ὁπλόδουπος/ΟΠΛΟΔΟΥΠΟΣ -clattering in his armor, Oplokharís/hoplochares/ὁπλοχαρής, ΟΠΛΟΧΑΡΗΣ -rejoicing in arms, Oplophóros/hoplophorus/ὁπλοφόρος/ΟΠΛΟΦΟΡΟΣ - he who bears arms, Phrictus/Phriktós/phrictus/φρικτός/ΦΡΙΚΤΟΣ - horrifying, Polæmóklonos/polemoklonus/πολεμόκλονος/ΠΟΛΕΜΟΚΛΟΝΟΣ -he raises the clamor of combat, Polemoklonus/Polæmóklonos, Sceptuchus/ Skiptoukhos/Skiptoukho/sceptuchus/σκηπτοῦχος/ΣΚΗΠΤΟΥΧΟΣ -he who bears a scepter, Teichesipletes/Teikhæsiplítis/Teikhæsiplítis/teichesipletes/τειχεσιπλήτης/ΤΕΙΧΕΣΙΠΛΗΤΗΣ—he who storms the cities in battle, Vrotoktónos/brotoctonus/βροτοκτόνος, ΒΡΟΤΟΚΤΟΝΟΣ -the slayer of men.

Equivalents• Mars (Roman), Onuris-Anhur (Egyptian god), Tiu-Tyr (Germanic god), unnamed war-god (Scythian god).

Courting• unmarried, but courting Aphrodite.

Past lovers/crushes/hookups• Aerope, Agraulos, Harmonia, Otrere, Astyokhe, Demonike or Sterope, Kyrene or Asterie, Astyokhe

Personality• He’s a great father, and a great lover, I talk to a godspouse of his and they talk about how he calmed them and was always there. He’s a great father because I’ve talked to a person who their father is ares and he’s always there for them, he’s also generous.

Home• Mount Olympus

Mortal or immortal • immortal

Fact• Ares was the only male greek god that never raped or sexually assaulted any woman

Curses• Routing armies, Cowardice, Death on the battlefield, Military invasion, Sacking of cities, Rebellion, Uprisings, Sedition

Blessings•Driving armies, Bravery, fighting strength & endurance, Averting war (peace), Repelling invading armies, Maintaining civil order, Crushing rebellions, Restraint violent instinct,

Roots• Thrake, Ancient Greece.

Parentage• Zues and Hera

Siblings• Enyo (twin sister), Eris (sister), Apollo (half-brother), Artemis (half-sister), Athena (half-sister), Hephaestus (brother), Hermes (half-brother), Dionysus (half-brother), Hebe (sister), Heracles (half-brother), Aphrodite (half-sister).

Pet• four fire-breathing horses (Aithon (Red-Fire), Phlogios (Flame), Konabos (Tumult) and Phobos (Fear))

Children •ANTEROS (God of reciprocated love, son of Ares and Aphrodite), DEIMOS (God of fear, a son of Ares and Aphrodite.), ENYALIOS/Enyalius (A war-god son of Ares and Eris), EROS (God of love, a son of Ares and Aphrodite), HARMONIA (Goddess of harmony, daughter of Ares and Aphrodite.), NIKE(The goddess of victory, a daughter of Ares), PHOBOS (God of panic, son of Ares and Aphrodite),AEROPOS/Aeropus (son of Ares and Aerope.), ALKIPPE/Alcippe (daughter of Ares and Agraulos), AMAZONES/Amazons (Warrior women of Assyria, daughters of Ares and Harmonia), ANTIOPE(daughter of Ares and Otrere), ASKALAPHOS/Ascalaphus (son of Ares and Astyokhe), DIOMEDES (son of Ares and Kyrene or Asterie), DRYAS (son of Ares), EUENOS/Evenus (son of Ares and Demonike, and sometimes the son of Ares and Sterope), HIPPOLYTE (daughter of Ares and Otrere.),IALMENOS/Ialmenus (son of Ares and Astyokhe), KYKNOS/Cycnus) (son of Ares and Pelopia or Pyrene), LIKYMNIOS/Licymnius (son of Ares most say his father was King Elektryon), LYKASTOS/Lycastus) (son of Ares and Phylonome.), LYKOS/Lycus (son of Ares who used to sacrifice strangers to his father), MELANIPPOS/Melanippus (son of Ares and Triteia.), MELEAGROS/Meleager (son of Ares and Queen Althaia, but most call him a son of King Oineus), MOLOS/Molus (son of Ares and Demonike), NISOS/Nisus (son of Ares, but most accounts say he was a son of the Athenian prince Pandion), OIAGROS/Oeagrus (a son of Ares but some say his father was King Kharops),OINOMAUS/Oenomaus (son of Ares and the Pleaid Sterope or Princess Harpinna), OXYLOS/Oxylus (son of Ares and Protogeneia), PARRHASIOS/Parrhasius(son of Ares and Phylonome.),PARTHENOPAIOS/Parthenopaeus (son of Ares and Atalanta, many say his father was Melanion or Meleagros), PENTHESILEIA (daughter of Ares and Otrere), PHLEGYAS (He was a son of Ares and Dotis or Khryse.), PORTHAON (son of Ares or according to others of Agenor), PYLOS/Pylus (son of Ares and Demonike.), REMUS (son of Ares and Ilia), ROMULUS (son of Ares and Ilia), TEREUS (a son of Ares.), THESTIOS/Thesius (son of Ares and Demonike or Agenor and Epikaste), THRASSA (daughter of Ares and Tereine.), DRAKON ISMENIAN (A monstrous dragon-serpent, it was a son of Ares and the Erinys Telphousia.)

attendees• DEIMOS & PHOBOS (The twin gods of terror and fear), ERIS & ENYO (goddess of strife, hatred and war), KYDOIMOS/Cydoemus (The god of the din of war), NIKE (goddess of victory), OTHER ABSTRACTIONS(spirits described such as Rage, Anger, Threats, Death and Valour)

Appearance in astral or gen• In ancient Greek art, he was depicted as either a mature, bearded warrior armed for battle, or as a nude, beardless youth with a helm and spear.

Festivals • Artemis Agrotera/Kharisteria , and Genesios, maybe.

Day • Tuesday

Scared places• Odrysia in Bistonia, Thrake (his birth-place)

Planet• Mars

Tarot cards• Chariot & Emperor card

Scents/Inscene • Frankensince, Sandalwood incense, resin, burning wood (especially if Himalayan salt in thrown in since it reminds him of blood), and red sandalwood incense

Prayers•

Prayer to Ares for the Safety of a Soldier

Bold-hearted Ares, bright-helmed son of thundering Zeus and noble Hera, well-honored god of war, any battle will you face, any foe will you fight, without fear and without hestitation. Ares, god of warriors, ally of those who risk their lives on the field, to you do soldiers offer their prayers. You know each one’s name, O Ares, you know their lives, you know their worth. Great Ares, I pray to you, watch over ____________ who heeded your call, who practices your art, whose name you know well, for s/he is one of your own who does you honor with each day s/he serves. Ares, I pray to you.

In general

Bright-helmed Ares, strong of arm and stern of visage, firm of stance, unyielding of will, ever ready to face any foe, to hold the line against all who may come, to battle until the end. Ares, son of noble Zeus and wise Hera, cherished by golden Aphrodite, honored by those who call on you for strength and courage, in the north were you much honored in times of old, in Thrace and Thessaly were you held in esteem by those whose lives were harsh, whose world was stony, whose comforts were hard-won. Ares who answers the prayers of the despairing, I honor you

For Courage

Ares, fierce-hearted son of Zeus and noble Hera, full-famed you are as god of war. To you do soldiers pray when battle is most heated, when mettle is most needed. To you as well do we turn in desperate times, to you do we call for strength, for the spirit to endure. You understand the terror of struggle and strife, you confront it in every way. Ares, your courage is unquestioned, your might and your prowess unequaled. Ares, friend to those in direst need, I pray to you, grant me the nerve to face what must be faced, grant me the will to do what must be done, grant me the heart to forge ahead.

Links/websites/sources •https://greekgodsandgoddesses.net/gods/ares/

https://twelfthremedy.tumblr.com/post/624476009567289344/ares-offerings/amphttps://aspisofares.wordpress.com/tag/offerings/https://www.tumblr.com/warriots/622104378198933504/a-guide-to-ares-worship https://www.tumblr.com/warriots/622104378198933504/a-guide-to-ares-worship https://scarletarosa.tumblr.com/post/187742800571/ares-greek-god-ofhttps://www.tumblr.com/diana-thyme/722942201197363200/greek-gods-101-ares @enyalios-shrinehttps://greekpagan.com/category/prayers-2/ares/

BIG HELP TO

https://www.tumblr.com/tarotbee

Ares is the Greek god and patron of many things, he is the edge of the sword while you hold the soft side, no god can be the god of war without the bloodshed, so don’t judge so quick, he is an amazing god, we love Ares here. Please excuse my grammar and everything, I tried my best.

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cambion-companion · 4 months

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Teaching the Devil how to fuck

We all know Haarlep says Raphael is a terrible lover blah blah, and I certainly believe Raphael to be a very selfish lover. It's also hard for me to imagine he's taken someone other than Haarlep to his bed in a very long time. Scheming and planning ya know, it's time consuming lol And how would he be in bed with someone who isn't an Incubus, with whom he doesn't feel double the pleasure? Well, that's why I am writing this.

Raphael x Altheara (my female Aasimar OC) because I wanted to write wings and needed a warm-up

"Raphael, do you ever stop talking?" Altheara brushed her long golden hair, the entire time she'd been listening to Raphael wax poetic about his latest contract with the whole city council.

She turned on her vanity stool, tossing her sheet of hair over her shoulder and mirroring Raphael's terse expression back at him. "Have you any idea just how little I wish to hear about your newest soul conquest?"

Raphael raised an arch brow and his lips turned down in a sneer. "Were I a less magnanimous being..." He gestured with his hands, describing the scene. "...I would pluck your feathers and leave you skinned upon a rack for your continual impudence."

Altheara rose to her full height, still head and shoulders shorter than Raphael's devil form. She approached him in measured steps, her eyes glinting like topaz in the firelight. "You're more full of bluster than an autumn evening." She flexed her feathered wings and tilted her head up at his glowering face. "You need me."

"Ah, pet." Raphael's voice had taken on a gravelly edge. He took Altheara's chin between finger and thumb, stroking her cheek gently. "You are wearing out your welcome."

"Yet you are here, in my chambers, lingering long after my 'use' to you has expired." Altheara's amber eyes flicked between his. "Why?"

Raphael pulled in his chin, once again momentarily bemused by her directness. "Perhaps I want to see just how far I can make an angel fall."

During their long and tenuous partnership, Altheara had felt the tension between them building like water behind a dam. It was finally about to burst.

The fabric of her deep blue dress rustled as she moved, her wings urged on her movement with one sweeping motion. She pressed herself against the heat of the cambion, his hands cradling her hips as she kissed that ruby mouth of his. At last, silencing him.

Raphael met her embrace with surprise, then curiosity, which melted into fascination. He tugged her closer, his fingers exploring how her soft flesh felt under his probing touch, the silk of her dress slipping like water under his hands.

Altheara guided him non-gently to her bed where he sat, a brow raised as he looked amused and intrigued up at her.

"You are aware," Raphael mused, his hands resting either side of where he sat as she moved to straddle him. "That I have an incubus at my beck and call?"

Altheara ignored him, she began pulling at the heavy metal of his skull-adorned belt. "This is utterly hideous, by the way."

"That whatever pleasure you offer dulls in comparison to what they can give me."

Altheara glared at him, her teeth clenched, her brass wings folding slightly as an innate sign of her sudden doubt. "Yet here you remain, quite the willing companion."

"I admit my curiosity, yes." Raphael indulged the Aasimar, his infernal eyes glimmering from within. "I've made no secret that I find you a most alluring creature."

Altheara leaned into him again and kissed at his neck and throat, her hands sliding up under his shirt to caress his sides. "Then stop being an ass."

"So spoke the 'aasimar'." Raphael groaned quietly as Altheara bit the skin of his shoulder in response, then he chuckled, still not touching her in return. "Shall I set the mood, my dear?"

He clicked his fingers and Altheara breathed in sharply, pulling her head back as both she and Raphael magically lost all of their clothing.

Her eyebrows raise and she fought to not grimace. "Raphael...that does quite the opposite to 'setting the mood'."

A slight frown tainted Raphael's confident smirk. "Not the response I was seeking, angel."

"Put my clothes back on, devil." Altheara spoke firmly, her hands moving to cup his face and smooth down to his shoulders. "It seems I am to educate you on how passion is played out."

Raphael was loathe to obey orders from anyone, especially a celestial entity. However, he found himself intrigued what she wished to have happen.

He magicked their clothing back onto their bodies and Altheara smiled. "Good. Thank you."

Altheara took her time. She slowly undressed Raphael, her lips following where her hands went, never touching but close enough for him to feel her warm breath on his skin.

She pressed her weight against the cambion's towering form, her mouth almost touching his heated chest, teasing, until with a low grumble he pressed forward against her in return. She smiled as she began pleasuring him, allowing him some control yet also taking an equal amount for herself.

Reticence turned into heated exchanges, hands ran over flushed skin and Raphael at last carefully pulled Altheara's dress over her head and tossed it blithely to the floor.

His hands explored her, and she gasped as he groped her chest roughly, grabbing his wrists with a furrowed brow. "Gentler." She showed him and after a moment he took over, squeezing and pinching.

Raphael reclined onto his back, pressing into the bed as he gripped her thighs possessively. "Show me more of what you can give."

"I'd think a devil would have better grasp on the concept of give and take." Altheara sighed through her pleasure, her wings spreading behind her for balance as she began moving more earnestly. "This is an exchange, Raphael."

The reply was torn from his lips as she sunk upon him, connecting their bodies with her own gasps of both pain and bliss.

She leaned over him until their mouths met in yet another fierce kiss. Raphael ran his hands up her back and into her downy feathers, his sharp nails digging into them. Altheara tensed and broke their kiss to look into Raphael's lidded eyes. "We have a contract."

"I will not harm you." Raphael's touch was sharp but didn't pierce her skin. "So eager, but still a flighty little thing."

"Move with me." Altheara pressed her hands to his chest, then his sides, gripping him tight as her wings flapped gently, her body shuddering as Raphael began to move his hips as well.

"So demanding." Raphael groaned again, his pleasure building slower than her own. "It's a wonder I tolerate you."

"You want me." Altheara's breath caught in her throat.

Raphael gripped the arc of her wings, his torso flexing as he curled up into her. "Yes."

The little death that followed led to many others. Many more nights of exploration exchanges of intimacy. Like twin fire suns orbiting each other, Raphael and Altheara could not pull away from each other. And for the first time in centuries, Raphael found himself willing to learn.

#Raphael bg3 #character exploration #Raphael x oc #raphael fanfic #drabble #aasimar x cambion #altheara #my tav #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #smut

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sourpatchys · 5 months

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Title: Thorns’n Roses

Rating: NSFW❤️‍🔥 minors DNI

Warning: premature ejaculation

Time: after overhaul, before Deika City

Word count: 4.5k

Summary: The beating of two hearts can finally become one. The realization of feelings, and the fear of separation. •FEMALE READER•

The warehouse was cold, its broken down walls and caved in floors left much to be desired in the thought of comfort. Though, as being in the league has taught you– it could always be worse.

Even with the cracked windows, boarded up doorways and splinter infested surfaces, this was a far cry from the worst place you’d had to call home within these past few months. At the very least this place had a few broken down mattresses that had been left by fellow squatters over the years– a good change of pace from sleeping on leaves and concrete.

Though, through it all– you couldn’t think of a place you’d rather be. The dripping water and old creaks left you feeling calm, the cold air soothed your hot skin– this was the life you’d chosen, and it was a beautiful reality. Someday, maybe the world would allow you to be like the others, to perhaps build a life worth slowing down for, but that dream was far away– just beyond your reach.

The league mostly stayed separate, going alone or in pairs to the next location to help cease wandering eyes from staring too long. Fugitives couldn’t risk being recognized, as a whole it was safer to go alone, meeting up with Shigaraki once every few days to decide our next move.

As luck would have it, you were with Shigaraki this week. Kurogiri liked to say it was for the sake of the leader's protection– but you knew otherwise. The truth was, Tomura Shigaraki was the league's protection, a safety blanket for the unknown. He always had the answers, he always had a plan– and when he didn't we knew it simply wasn’t time to act. Truth be told, he was the reason you stayed.

Being a villain wasn't on your bingo card, it wasn’t something you ever thought you would have chosen for yourself– being on the run wasn’t something that was new for you though, and that's how he’d found you– crying in an alleyway after losing control, afraid of what you were capable of.

He made you realize there was no reason to be afraid– that fighting back was a part of life. Those exact words had never left his lips, in fact he rarely spoke to you at all, his mere presence and demeanor were enough to make you understand the lessons you were taught.

Shigaraki was never afraid to do what he wanted– needed to do. So you decided you wouldn’t be either.

He was sitting on an old shipping box, staring into space– his eyes weren’t focused, it seemed as if he was letting himself rest after weeks of fighting. Something in you wanted to believe that you had given him his relaxation– that you had somehow saved him from his anxieties just by being there.

Finally, he turned to you, his eyes harsh, yet somehow forgiving all the same. They were red like rubys, like two crystal clear seas of blood– or perhaps like a rose, covered in thorns, ready for its next victim.

It was as if you were possessed, like the words left your mouth without even processing through your own skull– “Your eyes are really pretty.”

He looked just as shocked as you felt, his brows raising and then falling, showing you more of his beautiful red.

“What?”

His voice was shaken, a tone in which you had never heard from him– it wasn’t anger, it wasn’t fury– he was confused, upset even. Maybe you needed to say it again? Surly he just hadn’t heard you right the first time.

“I said your eyes– they’re pretty.”

This didn't seem to cure his new demeanor. He was supposed to have all the answers– but at this moment, it was as if he’d never had a correct answer in his life. He didn't know what to say, where to look, or how to continue. Yet something in him yearned to keep this going, he wanted to hear you again, the sincerity in your voice had him crumbling in a way he never knew possible.

“Yours are too.”

He’d never given another person a compliment, he wasn’t sure if he had even done it right. If not for the slight flush on your face, he may never have gotten the answer. His body felt hot, his hands were sweating and he swore his heart was beating twice as fast. It was similar to anger in a way– though he didn't wish for this feeling to stop, he didn't crave the crash of emotions he got after killing, or the need to scratch. It was a strange sensation, and he was sure you were trying to kill him– but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

You were just the same, three seconds away from a heart attack. You were sure you'd heard him wrong, but the softness in his rose like eyes told you otherwise, and suddenly you were melting in the palm of his hands. It felt as though he had all five of his fingers wrapped against your throat, and you craved more of the delicious feeling. You were pudding, but you felt brave, braver than you ever had in your 20 years of life.

“They remind me of a newly blossomed rose after a storm, so beautiful and yet so dangerous you can’t help but want to pluck it for yourself.”

A thoughtful look crossed his face as he stared at you, as if he were digesting your words bit by bit, savoring the flavor on his tongue.

“Beautiful, huh?”

“Yes, I think so.”

It was then he stood, walking his way towards you before sitting down across from you on the cold damp floor. He seemed to be examining you, looking for something he couldn’t quite place.

“Are you trying to get under my skin? It wont work.” he lied– as far as he was concerned you were nestled right into the muscle.

You swallowed, this was as close as you'd ever had the pleasure of being to one another, you didn’t want to push him away.

“No Shigaraki, I'm just being honest.”

He glared at you, his eyes showing distrust, though a pale blush started to form across his neck. A part of you wondered if his ears got red when he was embarrassed– you desperately wanted to find out.

“So you honestly think I'm ‘beautiful’.”

The word was spit out of his mouth with such disgust, you almost didn't recognize it– as if it were completely foreign to your vocabulary. Though his utter repulsion for the word did not make your statement any less true, in fact it only made you want to drill it harder, to see him accept your thoughts on the matter no matter the cost.

“Yes–” you reached out your hand, touching your soft subtle flesh across his scarred rough skin, looking into his soul– “I think you're beautiful.”

Shigaraki didn’t know how to react, he didn't know how to do anything. It was as if he had lost complete connection to his body, only able to stare, basking in the warmth you've given him. His body is frigid, long since forgetting the feeling of a gentle touch– he thought he may become addicted to the feeling now that it was in his grasp once more.

Noticing his reluctance, you moved to sit on your knees– slowly, so as to not startle him further– you placed your other hand on the other side of his warming face. It felt as though you had the world in your hands, and you found yourself loving the feeling it gave you.

Was that what this was? Affection?

The thought of closing the gap between your bodies made you shiver with excitement, and then– and only then– could you handle the truth.

You were in love with Tomura Shigaraki.

The man in question was in confused bliss, he never knew the touch of another could feel so– innocent– so subtle. He wanted more, he wanted every part of you– anything you'd let him have, he decided he would take.

“Shigaraki?” you whispered, refusing to speak any louder, afraid of losing the bubble you had so carefully crafted together.

He hummed at you, his eyes tracing every corner of your face– making sure to confine it to his memories. This moment was one he refused to forget.

“Can I try something?”

As if he knew what your simple request was, he stared down to your lips– flicking his unfocused gaze between them and your eyes– silently giving you permission to continue, letting you take the lead.

As your soft lips grazed his own, he found that he never wanted to feel anything else. He couldn’t close his eyes, much too enthralled by the soft look on your face, a look of content in which he never assumed he would be on the other end of.

He realized that maybe– he didn’t hate everything. No– he could never hate you, nor the feelings you were giving him.

The kiss was short and sweet, only lasting a few seconds before you were pulling away, looking for his reaction, nervous about what you might find. You didn't have much time to look however, as soon he was wrapping his arm around your head, sure not to touch you with his deadly fingers, drawing you to his mouth once more.

This kiss was not soft, though it was enthralling just the same. Your mouths moved in sync, quickly finding a rhythm only the two of you would ever be able to share. It was filthy, sloppy, untamed– but it was perfect all the same.

Tomura’s rough lips slid against your own, you couldn’t think of any kiss you'd ever shared feeling as wonderful as this– you felt as though your world was finally spinning again, as though the last piece to your puzzle had been clicked into place.

You made him feel alive. Like nothing in this world could hurt him any longer.

Breaking the kiss was one of the hardest tasks either of you had ever faced up to that point. The need to stay connected, to feel the others skin across their own– it was a pull unlike any other. Shigaraki looked at you with a gaze you had never seen before, one of contentment. You had done it– you'd relaxed his entire being all on your own. You brought that side of him out– you and you alone.

The look of your face, glossed over eyes and puffy lips, stirred something in Shigaraki, he never wanted anyone to see you the way that he was seeing you, he wanted this for him and him alone.

The tension was thick, yet bubbly all the same, each of you wanted the same thing– each other. And yet the words had escaped both of your throats, unable to be spoken freely.

You leaned in, resting your head in the crook of his neck, your breath was still coming in waves, seemingly unable to recover. He let you, wrapping his arms around you in a protective stance. Even without the words being spoken, the fate was sealed– you belonged to Tomura Shigaraki.

Moments that felt like hours passed without a word, the dripping of the building and the harsh wind outside being the only noise keeping the two of you centered.

Shigarakis throat bobbed as he cleared his throat, the warmth under his skin reaching your cheek in record time.

“I think you are too.”

It took you a moment to understand his words– sitting up and looking at his flushed face, you couldn't help but allow a soft smile to spread across your face. He looked away from you, overcome with the need to hold you once more. It was overwhelming, all of this at once, he wasn't sure what he'd do if you looked at him with those same eyes every time he got to see you.

Suddenly it hit him– after this week, there was no telling where you'd be stationed. You couldn’t stay with him long term, the risk of being found was too great– fanning out and changing location was the only way to stay out of the light– to be hidden in the shadows in a world full of light.

He found his heart aching at the thought– he had only just realized his affections, he had only just felt your soft tender skin on his own, he couldn’t bear being away from you– he was selfish, it had gotten him into trouble many times– and yet now he had to think of your safety as well.

Surly you'd be safest with him, not alone, not with one of the other members– with him.

As the days began to pass, each more attentive than the last, he couldn’t help but continue to worry. He needed everything to be in place, he needed you to stay with him, to be with him always.

He began treasuring your mornings together, watching you open your sleep-ridden eyes, hearing you mumble nonsense while you were dreaming– the feel of your lips on his skin, the touch of your hands, the feeling of your warmth as you hugged him tight.

One day you had woken before him, and he had the pleasure of waking to the sound of your beautiful voice humming sweet nothings as you traced abstract patterns over his back.

The two of you had created something wonderful, a domestic piece of bliss in their otherwise gruesome line of work. You grounded him in a way he never thought was possible, you made him feel whole. While with you– he knew no hate– he knew not anger. All he knew was your warmth, your laugh, your smile.

Oh how he wanted to keep it forever, tucked away in his pocket to carry with him always.

It was as if you were a porcelain doll, and he was doing everything in his power to keep you from breaking. He had never known seeing another person happy to be alive could be so invigorating.

This morning was unlike the others, as it was possibly the last morning you'd get to spend together until a better arrangement could be made– the thought of you leaving his arms even for a moment made him sick to his stomach. He was hoping, with everything in him, that the power that Kurogiri had promised him would come soon, he needed to be the king, with you his queen.

He fell hard and he fell fast, as did you. The bond you shared was unlike any other– you needed one another– you craved one another.

He felt your body begin to twitch as you began to wake, your tender loving hands gripped onto his shirt, and your face scrunched pushing its way into his dark clothing– trying subconsciously to block the sun, annoyed by its rays.

He found it to be quite amusing.

“The sun is here to stay.” he found himself saying, enjoying the way you groaned in frustration towards his words.

“Kill it.”

That got a genuine laugh out of him– his own personal ball of sunshine being such a grumpy riser, it was nothing if not poetic.

He leaned down to kiss your forehead, an action that had become more than natural by this point, he always had his grubby little hands on you one way or another.

You hummed softly at his attempts to wake you– your eyes opening softly, ready to greet the day albeit reluctantly. You weren't happy about leaving either, it had been on your mind since the moment you shared your first kiss together. The fear of leaving the man in which you held so dear. But perhaps the distance would make your connection grow stronger– perhaps the world wasn't ready for the two of you to forever join together quite just yet.

You could feel yourself frowning at the thought, clutching harder onto the fabric between your fingers.

Shigaraki didn't say anything, letting you feel whatever you needed too, though he didn't enjoy your frustrations, he couldn’t solve them– not yet– not without power.

He felt as your warm tired– angry– hand made its way under his worn down shirt, slinking its way up his torso. His breath hitched at the feeling, though he stayed still, letting you do as you pleased. What kind of king would he be if he told his queen no?

Your hand continued to make its way over his pale harsh skin, his muscles tightening under your soft skin, unused to the feeling, yet craving more– he wanted you, he wanted to eat you whole and leave nothing left– to claim your flesh as his own, so that no matter where you wound up, his touch would stay with you forever.

You wanted just the same.

“Tomura?”

His name fell from your lips like lace, he was sure he’d never heard such a beautiful sound. He gulped, afraid of breaking the trance you were in, wanting nothing more than to stay in the moment you had created.

“Yeah?”

“Can I do something?”

The vibrations that shook his core were nothing if not violent. Your voice was as sweet as velvet, your mock innocence made him want to beg, to plead for you to do whatever you wanted, so long as it involved him and no one else. You were beautiful, looking up into his rose colored eyes through your eyelashes, waiting patiently for his answer– for his permission.

Who was he to refuse you?

“Of course.”

That's all it took for your soft, gentle hand to become harsh and demanding, running its way up his torso as if it belonged to you. You sat up, taking no time at all to put both of your precious hands on his frame, sliding away at his overworn shirt, pushing it above his head.

His breathing had all but stopped, giving you utter control over what you were going to do to him next– after all, he had given you his explicit permission to do as you pleased– he wasn't the kind of man to go back on his word.

You traced patterns along his rib cage, sliding your thumbs against his scars, paying special attention to the old healed over bullet wounds from his first endeavor as a full fledged villain. He never paid much mind to his scars, he felt natural about them– they were simply the results of his labor, something that was to be expected if he were to fight for destruction. Though, with your gentle caresses, he found himself awed by them, wishing he had more to show, just for your eyes to see.

It was only when you dipped your head and licked a ling stripe up his stomach that he truly realized what your intentions were– it scared him, it enthralled him– he wanted more.

As your fingers made their way to the hem of his pantline, he propped his body up on his arms, not willing to look away from you for a single second as you popped open his button and rolled down his zipper.

His body was electric, zapping and zipping from his toes up to his head. He could feel himself growing erect, the thought alone of you wishing to touch him had him groaning. The sight before him was one he would never forget, your lovely eyes widening as you released his cock from its confines.

Before touching him, you had to ask a question that had been eating away at you– a question you hoped you already knew the answer to.

You looked up into his glossed over eyes, his mouth slightly agape as he took you in.

“Have you ever done this before Tomura?”

There it was again, the sound of his name falling from your perfect lips, it sent a shockwave down his core, his cock twitching in excitement for what was to come– but you had asked him a question– a question he needed to answer before you would continue your mission.

“No– you're the only one.”

It was true, as of today you had been his first everything, his first kiss, his first crush, love, want. You alone held this unstoppable power over his being. It didn't frighten him nearly as much as it should have.

A smile rose to your face, it was a true smile, a toothy grin that had his heart pounding. How? How in the midst of seducing him– did you manage to make his heart melt?

You went to continue, dropping your hand down to grasp his throbbing member in your hands, he hissed at the new sensation– he’d never expected just a small gesture to unwind him so fully. He knew, if you continued on with your plans he would be gone before long, unable to keep up with your alluring ways– completely undone by your soft warm hands.

“Wait!” he growled, placing his hand over your own, sure to lift his pinkie even as his cogs were unwinding. He wanted to become one with you, he wanted to claim you– to take the reins, to pleasure you thoroughly.

Surprised, you did as told– stopping completely in your tracks, ready to hear your orders.

“I– I won't be able to last like this, I want you. I want you in full.”

His tone was dangerous, like a hunter to its prey– it sent a shock of warmth down to your own heat, a sensation that's never happened with words alone.

He took you and flipped your positions, your body landing on the old squeaky mattress with a puff, immediately spreading your legs, unable to contain yourself after seeing the look in those rose red eyes.

Shigaraki climbed over you, his cock hanging between your bodies, glistening with precum already– unable to control itself at the sight of you submitting to him so easily. He needed you, he needed your wet head to surround him– that's the only way he could die happy– he was sure of it.

“Take them off.”

He tugged two of his fingers against your clothes, unwilling to risk the thought of destroying such beautiful garments that hugged your frame so wonderfully.

The edge and shake to his voice had you trembling in anticipation, ready to bend to his every whim. Slowly you began to pull off your clothing piece by piece, all the while he couldn't look away. Your breasts gleamed with the sun's opposing rays, your nipples erect from the cold air around you– it was a sight to behold– a sight just for him. He was sure then– that if there had been anyone else before him– hed make you forget every single one of them– he’d tear them apart limb from limb. No living being other than him was allowed to see what lay underneath.

As you removed your underwear, he swore he was salivating, your wonderfully crafted thighs shaking, your glistening folds out in the open for his viewing pleasure. He couldn't stop himself from running his finger up and down your damp slit, basking in the realization that he made you that way.

You gasped at his touch, arching your back in a silent beg for more.

“You like when I touch you?” he chuckled, rounding your clit with his calloused thumb- you borderline screamed at the feeling, nodding your head frantically. He continued with his assault, his middle finger making its way to your dripping entrance, teasing the area as he basked in the sound of your cries.

“Please, Tomura– please touch me!”

It was a pitiful wine, and if you weren’t in such an out of bodied state you may have even been embarrassed, though for the moment you were just thankful, because you could feel his finger pressing its way into your folds, wiggling itself around until tit found the perfect spot– the spot that had you seeing stars in the middle of the day.

His hand was fast, fucking you with purpuse, making sure to hit the spot that had you squealing over and over again, unwilling to let up.

“Say it again– say my name again.” he was right by your ear, kissing up and down your throat, using his teeth to bite and suck on any spot he found worthy of his affection.

“Tomura!” you cried, fucking yourself down on his hand as he added another finger.

“Again!” he growled, biting into your throat, making sure to leave the impression of his teeth behind, unwilling to stop until he suited you properly marked as his.

“TOMURA!” you screamed as a flood of pleasure erupted into your body popping just as soon as it arrived– your body jerking as tears ran down your face, unable to hold in the pleasure he was giving you.

Slowly his fingers stopped their brutal pace, popping out one by one as his thumb gave your clit a few extra lazy circles that had you sobbing from overstimulation.

He almost came right there, memorized by your body begging for his attention and then snapping in two once it became too much.

Your breath was hollow, shaking, and unstable– but you weren't done yet, you had only just begun.

Using all the strength you had left you wrapped your legs around Shigaraki, pulling him as close to yourself as possible.

He yelped in surprise, his head falling into the throat that he had thoroughly loved.

“What–”

“Fuck me Tomura.”

He groaned, his cock twitching at your demand, but oh so ready to grant your wish.

Slowly, he lined himself up with your sopping wet heat, he took a deep breath, preparing his body for what is sure to be something completely and utterly overwhelming.

Pushing into you, you both groaned, the feeling of being full and the feeling of being sucked in taking you both in an instant.

Shigarakis' breaths were few and far between, and he wasn't moving.

“Tomura?” you questioned, turning your head to look at his face.

“I'm going to cum if I move.” he whispered, embarrassment fully taking over any power he thought he had.

“Do it then!” you laughed, using your legs to force him to move just a bit.

He thrust back, whimpering before his body jerked and he fell on top of you.

“Wow, you weren't kidding.” you joked, giggling at the circumstance, feeling on top of the world for having the world's most dangerous villain fall apart right before your eyes.

“Shut up.”

—

As the day came to a close, you found yourself rushing towards Kurogiris last known whereabouts.

You didn't have to leave Shigaraki afterall.

#tomura x y/n #tomura shigiraki x reader #tomura x reader #tomura shiragaki #shigaraki x you #shigaraki headcanons #shigaraki imagine #mha shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #bnha shigaraki #my hero academia shigaraki #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #fanfic #fanfiction

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inoreuct · 6 months

Text

a study of bruises, care, and potatoes.

Zoro’s boots scrape dully as he skids across the deck, bending his knees to drop his centre of gravity, shoulders sinking as he presses a slow breath through his teeth.

“Is that all you’ve got?”

He scoffs as Sanji’s stupid fancy shoes come into view, the steel-capped toes he got the cook for his birthday dripping with the same red that’s flowing from his split brow and blurring one half of his vision to shit. Squinting upwards into the light, he finds the midday sun crowning Sanji like a halo, lighting his hair up gold. Beautiful. “Fuck you.”

“Maybe, if you win,” Sanji laughs, easy as anything as he backs away.

Shusui and Kitetsu sing in his hands as he grounds his stance and spins them around, and he hasn’t unsheathed Wado. Yet. But with the way Sanji’s pushing him back— Zoro grits his teeth and allows a heel to crack across his jaw, letting the momentum turn his body sideways as he ducks low and rams his shoulder into Sanji’s ribs. The cook gasps, managing to drive a knee between them before Zoro shoves it out of the way, spitting out a curse as the swordsman hooks the flat of one sword behind his calf and yanks his leg out from under him, and they hit the ground hard.

Zoro’s laugh rides on his exhale, heartbeat pounding fiercely in his ears, one fist slamming into the ground above Sanji’s head when the cook wraps unfairly long legs around his middle and throws him upwards. It unbalances him just enough for him to go nose-to-plank, just enough for Sanji to flip them and yank Zoro’s wrists down to trap them under his thighs, and just like that—

“Caught you,” Sanji breathes, chest rising and falling rapidly, sweat-damp bangs sticking to his flushed cheek, and Zoro doesn’t fight the grin that bares his teeth.

“Looks like it,” he says evenly, feeling hardwood press against his skull as he stops resisting. “Come here.”

A blue eye narrows sharply. “Why?”

“Just come here.” His heart lurches when Sanji leans down, suspicious, hair falling over them both like a flaxen curtain. It’s getting long, Zoro notes. Long enough that he could braid it if Sanji wanted. He makes a mental note to bring it up to the cook, waits until a barely-trembling mouth grazes his—

And cranes his neck back to slam his forehead into Sanji’s nose.

The cook lurches away with an enraged cry, hands flying to his face as Zoro uses his wrists to lift Sanji by the knees and flip them over again. “You fucking bastard! That’s foul play, you piece of shit—”

Zoro just grins wider, heart pumping hard and body buzzing like a livewire. Sanji looks hot like this with iron dripping off his chin, pooling in his cupid’s bow, staining his mouth rose-rust-ruby even as he smears the heel of his palm over his lower lip, and Zoro isn’t afraid to admit it.

He watches. Watches Sanji’s eyes drag languidly from the blood on his hand to Zoro’s face, watches him tilt his head, lazy and unhurried, and suck the red off his teeth with that piercing gaze pinning him in place. He tightens his grip on Shusui’s hilt and digs his knuckles into Sanji’s shin as something tightens in his gut. “Never said we had to play fair.”

He watches Sanji’s smile sharpen into something downright predatory seconds before a foot is stomping sole-first into his chest, vicious and just off-centre, kicking the air right out of his damn lungs as he flies back. Fuck, that’s gonna bruise. The pain switches something in him into high gear and Wado’s out of her sheath, a familiar weight in his jaw even as he scrambles to get his bearings, and barely half a breath later Sanji’s on him like a fucking hurricane.

Another signature roundhouse kick lands on his temple and re-opens the split in his brow, and he would have eaten shit if not for the palm he slams to the deck, pivoting to pop up behind Sanji and swing two swords parallel into his middle. The cook dodges and slips away, driving his heel into Zoro’s hip, and Zoro backs up to give himself space to breathe.

The sun is blinding even when he isn’t looking up. His breath echoes in his ears, tight as he tries to slow it down, shirt stretching with the heave of his shoulders, pulse a war drum in his veins and his arms nearly trembling with adrenaline and there is blood on his face, in his mouth, sweet and metallic; he spits it in a red splatter onto the ground and sweat nearly steams off his skin.

Up ahead, Sanji leans back against the taffrail almost leisurely, looking far more composed than he probably feels. He rolls his head back, elbows over the railing as he bares his throat almost arrogantly, and the smug look he tilts to Zoro as he tosses his hair out of his face is a challenge in and of itself.

Zoro crosses the space between them in three great strides and swings.

He twists and drops low as Sanji slides beneath his sword, and the cook snarls as Wado grazes over his side just deep enough for it to sting. Sanji’s leg comes down over his head and he throws up a forearm, digs his heels in as he braces for the impact, shoving forward as soon as it connects. A knee jams into the same side as before and Zoro wheezes, core spasming, backing Sanji into the railing with a wide arc of his blade before the cook gets that glint in his eye—

And Zoro gets an inkling feeling that he’s just lost himself this fight.

Sanji spins to spring off the railing in a tight flip that brings his heel down directly between Zoro’s shoulder blades, and Zoro sacrifices his balance and Kitetsu in one last bid for victory. He reaches one hand over his head and grapples for a handful of fabric, yanking as hard as he can, biting down into Wado’s hilt as his knees slam into the planks.

Muffling his pained hiss into leather, Zoro manages to flip Shusui in his grip before his wrist is pinned beneath Sanji’s hip. Fuck. His free arm is grabbed and wrenched back, a sole pressed to his throat and forcing him into a kneeling backbend. Sanji slowly pulls harder and forces his upper body back as he thrashes, a subtle threat; it’s a futile effort, anyway. The cook’s out of Wado’s reach with the severity of the lean he’s in, neck tense, chin pushed up as cold, blunt steel digs into his jugular. Zoro’s arm strains in its socket, and as much as he is prideful— He knows when to admit he’s been bested.

“Yield,” he grits, chest heaving as Sanji puts more pressure on his trachea and his lower back strains with the weight of holding himself up. “I yield.”

“…For today.” Sanji slowly lets go, and Zoro groans as he slumps to the deck. “You’ll beat me tomorrow.”

He spits his sword to the side and unfolds his aching legs from under him, starfishes out, tries to catch his breath. The sky is a brilliant, cloudless, familiar shade of blue. Zoro finds himself smiling and throws an arm over his face to hide it. “Hope that doesn’t mean you’ll go easy on me.”

“When do I ever?” Sanji scoffs, tapping the back of his heel against the swordsman’s thigh for good measure as he gets up. “Come on, marimo. Before the sun turns you into a dried cactus.”

He’d been right about the bruising. Purple and yellow blooms vivid across the right side of his ribcage, a deceptively pretty splotch that still makes him bite down a groan when he presses into it with cloth-wrapped ice.

“Let me.” Sanji gently takes the bundle from him, nudging him back until Zoro gets the hint and hauls himself up to sit on the table with a grunt. He lets the cook prod at the edges of the bruise with a frown pulling at his swirly brows, carefully rolling the ice pack back over the area, and he grunts as his ribs shift. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’d strained a couple of intercostal muscles.

The urge to scrub a fist over the blood crusting in his eye is tempting but he resists, knowing that Sanji would probably scream at him if he did— However. His lashes really are starting to stick together.

Sanji notices, because of course he does. “Hold,” he mutters, pulling one of Zoro’s hands over the ice and stretching to wet a clean cloth by the sink. It’s blessedly cool as he sets it to Zoro’s skin, letting it soak for a few seconds before he starts scrubbing away at dried gore and clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “You’re all messed up.”

“And whose fault is that?” Zoro asks dryly. “You kick like a fucking donkey. And twice in one spot? Really?” He ducks his head with a laugh when Sanji moves to yank his earrings.

“You’re infuriating,” the cook scowls, at odds with the slow, meticulous way he rubs the cloth over Zoro’s lashline. “And you were distracted today. What’s going on?”

Zoro closes his other eyes and recalls a fierce grin, blood-slick, golden hair and steel toes and a flawless kick slamming into his jaw. “Dunno. Maybe I just love you.”

Sanji stills, and Zoro clocks his soft, quick inhale before he hears the cook shift and opens his eye. “…I’m still not used to that,” Sanji murmurs, more to the floor than anything else, and Zoro tilts his chin up with two fingers tucked beneath.

“I know.” He feels his own shoulders slouching, sinking as he curves toward Sanji like a planet in orbit. He’s tentative when he cups the cook’s jaw steady and lets go of the ice pack to bring his thumb to Sanji’s bloodied nose, but he twitches back when Sanji hisses. “Shit, sorry, curls. Is it broken?”

“Nah,” Sanji chuckles airily, relaxing into Zoro’s touch and letting his eyes slide shut with a sigh as the swordsman prods at his bridge. “Just tender.”

Zoro hums, unsatisfied. “Pass me another cloth.” He wraps the offered fabric around his index finger and wipes away the blood congealed on Sanji’s lip, turning the cook’s face this way and that to make sure he gets everything as lithe hands press the ice back to his torso.

His own face’s mostly clean now, but his brow still feels a little stiff when he raises it just to make Sanji laugh. No big deal, though; he expects he’ll scrub down before dinner and drag Sanji with him, because otherwise the cook would stay in the galley all night. Zoro loses his train of thought when blue, blue eyes flick up to his, and his breath catches in his chest.

“What?” Sanji murmurs, his jaw nestled in Zoro’s palm, gaze travelling over his face, and suddenly Zoro doesn’t know what to do with himself.

He’s not a man of words. He never has been, really, but he thinks he could try, for Sanji. The man standing between his knees is a prince, for fuck’s sake, in everything else if not in name. Sanji, with skin the colour of white sand under the sunset, eyes like pools of sapphire crystal, slender fingers and gold-spun hair and kindness in spades, given to everyone with a generous hand, even when life had tried to beat it out of him with a stick. He’s regal. Something out of one of those fairytales that Zoro had never believed in.

He’s regal, and sometimes Zoro worries that he’s too rough around the edges for them to fit.

And then Sanji cusses him out with a sharp tongue and kicks his head back on straight, and he remembers exactly who he’s dealing with. Who he’d fallen in love with.

Sanji makes a questioning noise but doesn’t shift back when Zoro pulls him closer, gently carding his hair out of the way to press a kiss to the space between his brows. The strands are soft between his fingers, sweet with the lingering scent of Sanji’s conditioner, and Zoro lets himself bury his nose in Sanji’s crown and just… breathe, for a second.

Arms slide around his waist, and Sanji’s weight leans into his chest. “Are you alright, chéri?”

“I— Yeah.” He shifts a palm to Sanji’s nape and squeezes, mainly to ground himself. “I’m good, cook.” Up this close, it would be difficult to miss the cook’s slight inhale as he draws back, and he frowns. “Your side.”

“S’fine,” Sanji dismisses, shaking his head with a soft smile.

“Lemme see.”

“Honestly, it’s just a scratch!”

“Let me see.” The cook huffs and rolls his eyes, stepping back to pull his shirt up over his side and Zoro hunches down, finding a clean corner of the cloth as he scrutinises the thin slice on Sanji’s skin. “Doesn’t look too bad,” he says, cleaning it up even as Sanji mutters an “I told you so” under his breath. It didn’t matter how bad it was. He wouldn’t take it any less seriously.

Sanji drops his hem back down and slips in close again to rest his cheek on Zoro’s shoulder, hands locking at the small of Zoro’s back, and Zoro smooths his palm over the soft cotton of Sanji’s dress shirt. It’s a texture he knows against his skin. He knows all of it; silky hair and a sharp jaw and a smart mouth, white teeth and strong hands and cotton shirts and wayward kicks to the shin and familiar weight against him as they fall asleep. “What’s for dinner?”

Sanji hums, nuzzling into the crook of Zoro’s neck before he pulls away, reluctant. “Potatoes au Gratin and spinach pesto linguine.” He moves over to the sink, pulling a huge bowl of washed spuds from somewhere, sliding it across the table as he tosses Zoro a paring knife and a pointed look. “Chop chop.”

The swordsman scoffs, leaning back on his hands. “Chop chop, he says. No please, no thank you, no nothing—”

“Oh, come on.”

“No appreciation!” he continues, grabbing a potato and sighing at it sadly. “Or financial compensation, mind you, this is unpaid labour—”

“Marimo,” Sanji begins, pinching his nose bridge but failing to hide his smile. “Darling. My heart. L’amour de ma vie. Will you please peel the damn potatoes, thank you.”

Zoro sniffs, but picks up the knife.

“You know, one day I’m gonna tell the whole crew what a drama queen you are,” Sanji says lightly, pulling a cabinet open to grab a box of pasta and grabbing a pot from the shelves below.

“They’ll never believe you.” Zoro shrugs, a what can you do sort of thing, and points the potato at the cook. “And this is still unpaid labour.”

“You’ll survive. It’s a labour of love.”

“Don’t recall ever saying I love peeling root vegetables.”

Sanji throws a teaspoon, and it bounces off Zoro’s forehead. “Not the potatoes, moron, me.”

Zoro can’t find a retort to that, so he shuts up and peels. It’s… good. He doesn’t recall ever smiling this much before everything. Before bloody scrapping and the gentle hands after and peeling vegetables in the easy quiet of the galley while Sanji watches the pasta boil. The cook pushes him, stretches his limits and helps him break down barriers that he would’ve been loathe to tackle alone. Helps him to dress wounds he can’t reach. Sanji holds him with a care that Zoro has never bothered with for himself, and it’s good.

He's listened to Sanji enough to know that these are baby potatoes, finicky to peel because of their thinner skin, and still terribly tender. Sweet. The one he's working on fits nicely in his palm as he guides the knife, angling the edge the way Sanji taught him. The skin spirals over his thumb as he works his way around and he crosses his ankles when he breathes out.

“Marimo.”

“Hm?”

Sanji’s facing away from him, but the cook turns his head just enough for Zoro to see the shrewd look in his eye. “Depending on your performance in helping with the rest of dinner prep, I may be amenable to discussion about… other kinds of compensation.”

Zoro pauses, blinks, and shakes his head with a chuckle. “You always speak real fancy when you want something, curls.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Sanji sing-songs, wiggling his shoulders as he stirs the pot. “No guarantees, mosshead. Peel!”

A laugh slips from Zoro’s throat, rich and real. Sanji’s steel-tipped shoes tap on the ground as he moves around the galley, comfortable in his element, and Zoro watches him with a fondness that warms his chest. Their cuts will heal. His bruises will fade from green to yellow before they disappear like they were never there, before Sanji paints new ones under his skin, and he’ll peel potatoes while Sanji boils pasta and they’ll curl into bed together knowing that they’ll wake up and do it all over again.

Zoro slips his knife beneath the last strip of peel and places his potato back into the bowl, pale and sweet and tender.

It’s good.

#look. i just need them to scrap nasty and get blood everywhere #and then clean each other up all disgustingly tender #i think i somehow managed to use potatoes as symbolism. i'm honestly not sure #zosan #zoro x sanji #zosan fanfic #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #one piece #ino writes #one piece zosan #featuring the inherent homoeroticism of sparring with your boyfriend

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bekkathyst · 5 months

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End of the Year Clearance Sale

These are the last couple of days to take advantage of our huge, once-a-year clearance sale! All crystals in the shop are a massive 60% off. We ship from Austria 🇦🇹 all orders over $60 ship free as well. We have a massive range of crystals: from the basic staples to more unique specimens.

Use the coupon code CLEARANCE at checkout.

Pictured Items: rose quartz point, ametrine mermaid tails, sugar fluorite with chalcedony, amethyst wands, moss agate models, moonstone palm stones, banded blue calcite spheres, blue chalcedony stars, labradorite freeform, rose quartz skull, tumbled natural citrine, tumbled natural ruby

#original #crystals #crystal shop

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brokentrafficknight · 6 months

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So, as I was pursuing the internet, I came upon a very spicy image of something that I didn't consider until now. But could I request you to do Young Maria x Summer x Ruby x Jaune?

I can probably guess what we both saw.

Is Silver Knight too simple a name for this one?

[Silver Knight(s) it is!]

#rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #summer rose #maria calavera #jaune arc x summer rose #jaune arc x maria calavera #jaune arc x ruby rose #lancaster #summer knight #rosebush knight #skull knight #silver knights

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ghostssweetgirl · 1 year

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A Ghost's Promise (tooth-rotting fluff)

A/N - please excuse me, I've never been to a wedding, so I apologize if anything is inaccurate. But I thought this would be so sweet.

The main song choice for this is Young and Beautiful - Lana Del Rey.

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem reader (fluff)

Warnings: none, I think. Just don't let your heart melt, alright? :) maybe some curse words, but I don't think so. Let me know if I missed any.

WC: 2.4k~

Simon had proposed to you 6 months ago. It felt like something straight out of a movie, although it was unexpected at the time. You were at a lake, a beautiful one, surrounded by mountains, somewhere you were camping at. You were hunched over like a gremlin, looking at the cool rocks and stones. You found a shiny black stone, sat up and jumped in place, excited to gift it to Simon but as you turned around, you found him on one knee, eyes crinkled in a soft smile. Unmasked, with tears in his eyes, holding out a beautiful ring, too beautiful. A ruby, surrounded by skulls and roses, a black band.

You couldn't speak, couldn't make a noise. You held your hand over your mouth as you smiled ear to ear, tears welling in your eyes. Your eyes met Simon's soft ones, a stray tear falling out of his left eye. He didn't even have to ask it, you were already sobbing.

"Yes! Oh, Simon, yes!" you cried, reaching out for him as he sat up, hugging you tightly. His hands rubbed your back, soothing you as the other hand placed the ring on your finger delicately, rubbing the back of your hand. You heard him sniffle as he kissed your forehead.

You pressed your face into his chest, unable to stop the happy tears from flowing. He laughed, which made you laugh, looking up at him to meet his eyes. Both of your wet eyes crinkling as you smile at each other lovingly.

"I fucking love you," you spoke, your voice pitched as you're laughing, crying, smiling.

"Yeah, I fuckin' love you," he chuckled. "S' much."

You think of him proposing to you, trying not to tear up while you're getting your makeup done before the big day, you'll officially be Mrs. Riley. That has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Every cherished moment you've spent right beside him. Every date, especially the first date where he was stuttering while talking to you and all shy. You remembered the first time he revealed his face to you; you were in utter awe, wondering why he had hidden such a beautiful, gorgeous treasure from you for so long.

You smirked, humming a laugh while the makeup artist tilted your head back to make the final touches. "Beautiful!" she chirped, proud of her work.

You look in the mirror, examining the remarkably done work. A red and black smokey eye, cat-eye eyeliner with subtle mascara, to pair beautifully with your red and black gothic wedding dress.

Your mom toddles along, smiling at seeing her daughter on her wedding day. Her eyes were wet, she'd been crying, her daughter really was all grown up now. "Oh, sweetie," she cupped your cheek. "I'm so proud of you and so happy for you."

"Thanks, mom," you smiled at her, tears threatening to prick your eyes while you tried to laugh it off.

"Let's go get you in your dress, shall we?" she suggested, helping you stand up. One of the workers walked up, asking if she could be of any help, your mother politely declined.

You kept your eyes glued shut, not wanting to look in the mirror quite yet while your mom zipped up the back, fluffing the skirt, making sure it was all perfect.

She sighed contently, resting her chin on your shoulder. "Ready to see how beautiful you look, angel?"

You sighed a deep breath, nervously chuckling before opening your eyes, seeing yourself in all your glory in the mirror before you. The blood red fabric under the black lace bodice, the beautiful pattern of the sleeveless lace-straps. The way the skirt barely poofed out slightly.

You felt like a princess, Simon's little princess.

"Oh, wow," you remark, smirking in the mirror as you twirl around. Your mom laughs proudly, her voice hitching from tears.

"I just... I raised such a beautiful daughter. I love you! I can't wait to see this new chapter of your life."

"Mom, stop, you're going to make me cry," you pleaded. "I love you, too."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," she wiped her tears. "Just can't believe it still."

Last minute, your father walked in, he proudly smiled, crossing his arms as he watches his once little girl, be all grown up on her wedding day. He was a quiet man, but you could feel the love from his soft gaze upon you.

Simon and Johnny were in his dressing room. Simon grumbled at Johnny while he was obsessively and neatly fixing every crinkle in his suit and straightening up his tie and sleeves of his shirt.

"You nervous, Simon?" Soap asked, his voice soft and curious.

"Little bit," he lied, he was nervous as fuck. Obviously, he's never done this before. There were so many people here to witness your ceremony. Of course, he wanted everyone to know how much he loved you and that you were his, but being eyed by a lot of people made him incredibly nervous, understandably. But most of all, he was so nervous to see you and how elegantly beautiful you would look. He fears he may have a heart attack at the sight of you walking down the aisle.

Price shuffled into the room, cheering his cigar and beer to Simon. He smiled at Johnny, then back at Simon. "We're honored to be your best men," he nodded to Johnny. "And your groomsmen, Simon."

Simon nodded stoically, "Thank you, sir."

"Almost time," Johnny smiled, patting his best friend on the back, nodding at him in the mirror. "Yer goin' to do amazing, L.T. 'M so happy for you and y/n."

You were catching up with your bridesmaids, chit-chatting and squealing about how happy everyone was. You peek around a corner, and look at the venue. Oh, Simon...

He had set up such a beautiful theme for your outside wedding. Tables set up with black tablecloth draped over them, littered with beautiful arrays of matching dishes, translucent-black wine and champagne glasses scattered about, with beautiful dark candles lined up perfectly. Across the walkway, freesia flower petals scattered among it. So elegant.

Viewing the altar, you spot a black arch, wrapped with a red silk drape with roses across it. Your mouth fell agape as you took in everything. This is everything you could ever ask for and more. Soft, soothing music played in the background while everyone was getting into their seats.

Your maid of honor, your best friend, lightly tapped your shoulder. "He really loves you, you know... I mean, this is just... beautiful, y/n."

You smile whole-heartedly, meeting her eyes. "I know, I-I'm in disbelief, is this even real?"

"Yes, silly! You deserve it!" she wraps you in a tight hug. "I'm so happy for you, I can't explain it."

You soothe yourself by rubbing the back of your hand, nervousness setting over you as you watch the officiant walk down the aisle; it's about to start. You fix your posture and start taking deep breaths. Your best friend makes final touches, making sure you're looking as amazing as you should on your day. She's taking your attention off of Simon walking down the aisle to his place as his groomsmen follow not far behind.

"You're so beautiful, it's going to be amazing," she whispered, cupping your face, before her and your bridesmaids go into their place.

Your father walks up, nodding at you, silently telling you 'it's time'. You lock your arm around his, as he sets still for a moment, cherishing this moment before he 'lets you go'.

As your father walks you down the aisle, everyone is smiling ear to ear, proudly as they keep intense eyes on you. You'd focus on them if possible, but seeing how handsome, how beautiful Simon looked, you could have burst into tears right then and there. This was really happening, and you were about to be able to finally call him your husband.

His breath hitched, a fiery lump burning in his throat as he attempts not to cry from seeing how beautiful you look; how proud he was to call you his. And here you are, walking to him. He's always been happy with you, but no moment compared to now.

A song softly starts in the background, Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Rey

Time slowed as you walked up to him, smiling at him proudly, also holding back tears. Your father lets your arm go as you finally approach your groom, standing directly in front of him, both of you all teary-eyed, happiness radiating off of each other vibrantly.

The officiant asks everyone to be seated as they had stood up, softly clapping for the two of you.

"On behalf of Y/N and Simon, I would like to thank you all for being here this afternoon. For taking the time and making the journey, and for all the effort that it takes—not only to be a part of this day, but to be a part of each other’s lives," he paused. "Y/N and Simon have invited you here to this beautiful place to show you a glimpse of an important piece of their love. To share with you their journey through the past years of their relationship."

"I wish I could tell you a single story about Y/N and Simon that summarizes their relationship and how they enrich each other’s lives, and the lives of each of us, but the truth is there isn’t one single event that is a good encapsulation of what they mean to me, to each other, and to all of us. But what I do know is that both of them care deeply and passionately for each other; they protect each other; they make each other laugh and they think outside themselves; that time magically seems to both fly and slow down when they’re together. They help each other in ways that are obvious and unnoticed, but always appreciated."

If you weren't worried about not knowing what to do, and focused on what the officiant was saying, you could have gotten lost in Simon's eyes right then and there. You knew he loved you; but this, this...

"As a third-party spectator to their developing love, it was extremely clear that the two of them represent a perfect pairing because each of them complements the other so well. They balance one another, and while each of them are tremendous individuals on their own, together they are even better. And being better together, as a team, a unit, and partners in crime, is what has been many years in the making and ultimately leads us to being here today, witnessing their commitment to one another in front of those they love most."

"So, without further ado."

"The symbolic vows that you are about to make are a way of saying to one another, “You know all those things we’ve promised and hoped and dreamed? Well, I meant it all, every word.” When you love someone, you do not love them all the time in exactly the same way. That is impossible. Yet that is what most of us expect. We forget the ebb and flow of life and of love and of relationships. We insist on permanence, on duration, on continuity. But in love, as in life, the only stability is in change, in growth, and in freedom. Therefore what you promise today must be renewed and reaffirmed tomorrow and all the tomorrows to come. The Bride and Groom have now prepared their own vows. Y/N… "

You gulp, and have to stop yourself from looking around the room. You softly clear your throat.

"Simon..." you smiled.

"I always thought it would be difficult to find someone who will love me when I'm always scattered in a thousand pieces.

It's like trying to complete a puzzle when you don't even know if you have all the right pieces. But then you showed me that every piece doesn't have to be in place to create something beautiful.

That love can exist in the most imperfect lost and broken people And I promise you that love will be just as beautiful, if you're in a thousand pieces or just one."

You could see his Adam apple bob as he cleared his throat. You saw a stray tear fall out of his eye. Dammit, he's going to make you cry!

"Y/N," he cleared his throat again, shifting in his step.

"I didn't fall in love with you I walked into love with you with my eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way. I do believe in fate and destiny, but I also believe we are only fated to do the things that we'd choose anyway.

And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you, and I'd choose you."

"Having considered all of these things, Simon, do you promise again to do your very best each day to create a loving, healthy, and happy marriage?"

"I do," he reassured softly.

"Y/N, do you promise again to do your very best each day to create a loving, healthy, and happy marriage?"

You smile, nodding eagerly. "I do."

"No one but you can declare yourselves married. You have begun it here today in speaking your vows before your family and friends, and you will do it again in the days and years to come, standing by each other, sharing the highs and lows of life. Go forth and live each day to the fullest." the officiant spoke. "You may now kiss the bride."

The officiant stepped away, your hands locked with Simon's before he pulled you into the most passionate kissed you've ever experienced, your first kiss as husband and wife. Your tears fell hard, falling down your cheeks over your pressed lips. The kiss dove deeper, his hand caressed the small of your back as he took a deep breath, having to pull back before he got carried away.

"Mr. and Mrs. Riley!" the officiant whooped, holding his hands up in celebration. The crowd cheered for you, and you could hear Johnny, Price, your best friend and bridesmaids screaming and shouting happily.

You both smile ear to ear, your arm locked in his as you walk back down the aisle - together. You make eye contact with your parents, your stoic dad allowing a few tears to fall, your mom sobbing heavily yet smiling.

As the night went on, you experienced your first dance together. Your head lay on his chest as you sway back and forth, comforted by the slow pace of his heartbeat. Lost in your own world, you look up at your husband.

"Simon?"

"Yeah, darlin'?"

"I love you. I'm so glad to have you. Forever isn't long enough..."

"I know. I know. I love you, babe." He held your head flush to his chest, rubbing your soft hair.

A/N - Alright I really didn't know how to end this, but WAS IT GOOD?! I hope so 🥺😭

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weemssapphic · 1 year

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ohhh, first of all: HIII i adore your writing. The visions fic in particular? easily one of my faves. ("favs, say favs" [i cannot not hear Gwen say that whenever I say/write faves]) Anyway haha, I was wondering if you could maybe write a female potions teacher/ Larissa fic where you borrow the concept of Amortentia and when they brew it in class Reader realises she's utterly and hopelessly in love with Larissa (and maybe Larissa is also there as extra supervision bc it's such a "dangerous" potion?"... and she also smells smth that reminds her of the reader?)

Amortentia: Fated Attraction

aw thank you so much! favs, say favs hehe that made me giggle :D thank you for the request <3 this was so much fun to write and i hope it lives up to your expectations! ao3 link in title, as per usual.

thank you to @afeatherformills for editing and to @sapphicsbeloved for letting me pick your brain (now you have more context hehe) <3

words: ~2.2k

warnings/content: none really, just kind of fluffy / admitting feelings for each other, kissing

“Who can tell me what we’re brewing today?”

Dozens of arms shot into the air, the students’ curious eyes trained upon the cauldron on your desk. You grinned, knowing the hints you had dropped in last week’s lesson had worked and your students were going to be engaged in today’s little experiment.

“Yes, Bianca?”

“Amortentia. The world’s most powerful love potion.”

“You are correct.” Your grin grew wider. “Can anyone tell me what Amortentia does? Wednesday?”

“Amortentia causes a powerful infatuation to form for the person who drinks the potion. It smells different to each person, according to what most attracts them,” the raven-haired girl deadpanned.

“Someone clearly did her homework. Thank you, Wednesday. Now-” your lecture was interrupted by a loud knock.

The door to your classroom opened a crack and Larissa popped her head inside. “I’m sorry, my meeting just ended. Am I too late?” Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of the stately blonde.

“Not at all, we were just getting started. Class, Principal Weems will be joining us today. Bianca was right - Amortentia is the world’s most powerful love potion, which can make it quite dangerous, and we thought it best to have an extra adult to supervise you. Don’t let her presence phase you.”

You shot a teasing wink at your students and waved Larissa into the room. She stalked over to your desk, hips swaying, and somehow you knew it was you who would be phased by her presence, more so than any of the kids.

“Principal Weems,” you leaned back onto the desk, scooting closer to her until you were nearly thigh to thigh, deciding you were going to make the most of the rare occasion of having her in your classroom. “Do you think you could tell the class what ingredients we’ll need for our potion?”

Larissa raised a perfectly sculpted brow, ruby-red lips pursing at the challenge, icy gaze piercing yours. For a moment your pulse quickened, you worried you had overstepped. Then her lips quirked up in a soft smirk and she turned her head to address your students.

“We will be needing rose petals, peppermint, moonstone and, most importantly, pearl dust.”

You shot her a grateful smile, trying to ignore the way your heart fluttered when she returned that smile, and turned to the cauldron sitting on your desk where you had already neatly prepared all the ingredients. Normally you would have your students make their own batch of a potion, but you and Larissa had both agreed when coming up with your lesson plan that giving a bunch of horny teenagers the world’s strongest infatuation potion was a recipe for disaster.

Once you’d gotten a small flame burning under your cauldron, you turned back to your class, hyper-aware of the many pairs of eyes burning holes into your skull. Even Larissa was watching you with interest.

“Come on guys, you aren’t normally this engaged in class,” you teased with a chuckle. “Now you can come up here - don’t push each other - just fill in the back there… perfect.”

Once the kids were gathered around your desk and the cauldron was bubbling to your satisfaction, you began to add the ingredients, chatting to the class about the history of love potions.

Every so often, you caught Larissa’s eye from across your desk and she gave you an encouraging nod, a soft smile. She seemed to be hanging onto your every word and it made your heart beat just a little faster than normal, though you couldn’t quite place why.

You did have a bit of a crush on your boss but it was harmless, really. The two of you were good friends. You’d been working at Nevermore together for years now and had built up a friendly rapport, knowing you could trust each other with both workplace and personal matters. You frequently met up for coffee at the Weathervane and shared the occasional bottle of wine in her office to let out your frustrations about students and other staff. So what if you sometimes got lost in her cerulean eyes, or imagined what she looked like under her designer dresses? So what if you pictured yourself holding her hand in the hallways or taking her out to dinner? It was just a harmless crush.

The potion began to develop its characteristic mother-of-pearl sheen and your lips curled up in satisfaction. Spirals of steam rose from inside the cauldron and several students began to push forward, entranced, trying to get a whiff of the concoction.

“‘Amortentia smells different to each person, according to what most attracts them’,” you quoted Wednesday’s earlier words. “Anyone care to share what they smell?”

Tentative glances were shared between the students, many suddenly too timid to speak. It was Enid who raised her hand first.

“Yes, Enid?” You nodded at the young blonde, hoping you sounded soft and encouraging.

“I smell lavender... cool night air… and, um, Wednesday’s hand sanitizer.” A blush crept up her neck at the admission and Wednesday elbowed her girlfriend in the ribs, shooting daggers at her with wide eyes.

“Thank you for sharing, Enid,” you smiled reassuringly at the girl, honestly just grateful that someone had participated in your lesson.

“What do you smell, Ms. Y/L/N?” Wednesday looked up at you through dark lashes, her words an open challenge, a smug smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she tried to make you squirm. You rolled your eyes - you should have known this would happen.

“Ms. Addams, I hardly think it is appropriate-” Larissa began, but you interjected before she could finish.

“It’s alright, Principal Weems, what’s the harm in answering a simple question.” You shot her a playful wink and ignored her dangerous look.

You leaned over the potion, closing your eyes and letting out a contented sigh as you took a deep breath, allowing the scent of the potion to wash over you.

“Mmm I smell… fresh laundry…” At first you smelled freshly washed sheets, one of your favorite scents, even since childhood. But then you smelled red wine. Cinnamon. Conditioner - but not your own. Your brows knit together in concentration.

Who was it that you were smelling? You didn’t even really like red wine yourself. The gears in your mind turned as you racked your brain, you were sure the whole class could hear you think. Oh. Your stomach dropped.

“Ms. Y/L/N?” Enid’s voice shook you out of your reverie. Your eyes fluttered open and you swallowed thickly. You realized with a sinking feeling that your students had all borne witness to your internal struggle and were now watching your face flush in real time. The pit in your stomach grew when your eyes made contact with Larissa’s. Sapphire pools stared back at you in concern, brows furrowed in confusion.

It was her. The smell. The occasional Friday night you shared in her office, strictly as coworkers, sipping red wine by the fire. Sitting close enough to smell her conditioner, her perfume, a sweet scent with notes of cinnamon that sometimes, in your tipsy state, made you wish you could bury your head in her neck and stay there forever. You were in love with Larissa Weems.

“You have a crush on someone.” You couldn’t help but glare at Wednesday, who grinned as if she had won a bet. Knowing her, maybe she had.

For the rest of the lesson, you pointedly avoided the gaze of a certain principal, who was watching you with curious eyes, unable to place your reaction at smelling the Amortentia.

When the bell rang, you were grateful to have a free period to collect your thoughts, and you ushered your students out of the classroom as quickly as you could. You shut the door behind the last one and clicked the lock, closing your eyes and leaning with your back against the door, letting out a frustrated groan.

“The world’s most powerful love potion,” Larissa’s voice made your eyes snap open and your heart drop into your stomach - you’d thought you were alone. The silver-haired woman was leaning over the cauldron, face partially obscured by wispy spirals of shimmering, pearl-colored steam.

“Well, technically, a true love potion doesn’t exist. Love can’t be artificially created. It would only cause a strong infatuation for the drinker.” You stepped forward to meet Larissa at the cauldron. This time, you immediately recognized the scent emanating from it, leaning in involuntarily. How could you not have known?

“That’s what makes it so dangerous,” Larissa’s eyes were focused on the bubbling of the potion as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth, she seemed lost in thought. You came around to her side of the desk until the two of you stood shoulder to shoulder. As you stepped closer, you saw the loose wisps of Larissa’s silver curls coming out of her usually perfect updo, sticking to her forehead from the steam rising from the inside of the cauldron. Even so, she was perfect to you.

“What do you smell?” You whispered, nudging her playfully. You were playing with fire…

Larissa stole a glance at you, hesitating for a moment, then closed her eyes and sniffed at the swirls of steam rising from the cauldron. Her nose wrinkled lightly and it took everything in you to suppress the sigh of adoration threatening to bubble forth from your chest as you watched her, her eyelashes fluttering against the rosy apples of her cheeks, brows crinkling at the center in thought.

She hummed as the scent of the potion reached her nostrils. Freshly brewed coffee. Okay, so she was more of a hot chocolate drinker herself… The scent of burning herbs. Kind of reminded her of the potions classroom… A flowery perfume. Why did it smell so familiar?

Larissa felt a heat rise in her cheeks as her brain connected the dots. She drew back, opening her eyes but refusing to meet your gaze, instead using her hands to steady herself on the desk in front of her. How had she not realized it before?

“Rissa?” You breathed, ducking your head in an attempt to get the taller woman to make eye contact with you.

Your use of her nickname had the desired effect, but her eyes were filled with uncertainty and fear.

You hoped this meant she had smelled you, just as you had smelled her. Your palms began to sweat, heat coiling in the pit of your stomach. An electricity buzzed in the air, pulling you almost magnetically towards the woman in front of you. You stepped towards her until you had to crane your neck back to look up at her face, your heart pounding erratically in your chest.

Larissa’s pupils widened imperceptibly, her lips parted as she straightened to her full height, now towering over you. Her breath ghosted across your face as she leaned closer, stopping just short of your lips, hesitating as she hovered over you. Her tongue darted over her lower lip, eyes glassy and swirling with emotion as they flickered nervously between the both of yours.

It was you who closed the distance. Your lips met, hesitantly at first. Larissa was still against you and, for a moment, you considered drawing back, now unsure whether the kiss was truly wanted. Just as you were about to pull away, you felt a strong hand grasp your waist, another thread in your hair as Larissa’s lips began to move against yours, soft and wanting.

A soft whimper escaped your throat, causing Larissa to hum in satisfaction and tighten her grip on you, pulling you flush against her. Your hands snaked around Larissa’s neck, raking your fingernails lightly along the skin at the nape of her neck, eliciting a low moan from her.

When you parted, you were both panting. She dipped her neck down to press her forehead to yours and you enjoyed the feeling of her warm breath on your cheek.

You couldn’t help yourself - you let out a hearty chuckle, and Larissa shot you a quizzical glance, gently and almost instinctively running her thumb along your jaw.

“And to think you almost didn’t approve of brewing the Amortentia,” you grinned lazily, leaning into her touch.

A gorgeous blush bloomed over Larissa’s cheeks. “Yes, well, had I known this would happen, I would have approved it much sooner.”

“Sure,” you murmured, capturing Larissa’s lips in a sweet, lingering kiss.

“Any other dangerous potions you’d like to try out, Ms. Y/L/N?” Larissa teased, backing you into the desk, regaining the upper hand.

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Perhaps we could discuss this more, tonight over dinner?” You were hopeful.

Larissa’s smile was genuine when she hummed in delight. “7 pm sharp. Don’t keep me waiting.”

A final, bruising kiss was placed firmly on your lips, Larissa nipping slightly at your bottom lip and soothing it immediately with her tongue before pulling away. There was an extra sway in her hips as she sauntered out of your classroom, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you realized you’d just scored a first date with the woman of your dreams.

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #principal weems #principal weems x reader #larissa x reader

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