#and I wanted them to be the same texture and fit. sigh

[e77y]

DROPPED MY ACE RING AND IT SHATTERED. I AM HEARTBROKEN :(

[monstersflashlight]

Umm... Do you think.. Maybe.. You could do a dragon and a male person? If not, I totally understand.

Hi! Thanks for the request, hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I know very little about temperature play apart from candles, but I’m setting this into a fantasy world where this is not as dangerous as it sounds.

Burn me down

Dragon x male!reader || temperature play, size difference, edging, lowkey orgasm denial

“Iwantyoutouseyourfireonme.” Your words mixed together because you told them so fast. You didn’t want him to think too much about it.

“What?” He asked, confused. Your dragon boyfriend was reading next to you on the couch as you scrolled Tumblr, in his humanoid form he was so handsome you almost lost yourself on him before asking what you wanted.

“I want you to use your fire on me.” You repeated, slower this time.

“No.” His response was instantaneous.

“But-” You tried to argue.

“No.” He repeated, not even looking at you, his eyes fixated on the pages, even though you knew he wasn’t reading shit.

“Come on, I trust you, I know you wouldn’t hurt me and I really want to know what it feels like.” You tried to let all your arguments out before he could deny you again.

“I need to be in full dragon form for that.” He told you like that made a big difference. He already knew you were a slut for all his forms, you loved how well his dragon dick stretched you, how his scales rubbed against your prostate in the most perfect way.

“I know.” You answered, trying to sound calm and collected, but fearing he was going to say no again. “So would you? Use your fire I mean…” You asked again, trying to use your puppy dog eyes on him. He was weak when it came to you, and you wanted to milk that fully.

He sighed heavily. “I’ll think about it.” You fist bumped the air as he tried to hide his smile.

It took him two weeks to give you an answer. “We can try.” He told you in the middle of breakfast. It was Sunday, so you had nothing else to do. “We can try the fire.” He clarified, as if you weren’t completely sure what he meant before. As if you hadn’t been expecting his answer for days.

“Really?” You asked, trying not to sound as hopeful as you felt. You couldn’t believe it took him only two weeks, you thought you would have to ask again after sucking his cock or something, to get him when he wasn’t expecting it.

“Yeah.” He leaned down and kissed your open mouth. You pulled back and started getting your clothes off. “Wait, right now?” He asked behind you as you rushed through the house to get to the only area in your house that could fit his dragon size: the big barn outside. You might or might not have bought the house just for that.

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” You chanted as you threw your clothes wherever and ran naked across the garden. He followed you, and when he caught up to you he was smiling. His expression was so loving that you felt a shiver down your spine.

You two entered and you positioned yourself in the bed you set there, he removed his clothes slowly. You laid on the bed and watched as he took out the restrains. You shivered, your dick filling rapidly as he approached you with a predatory gaze.

He tied you down to the bed frame and transformed. You looked at him amazed, you were fascinated by his full dragon form. He was so big, so imposing, so scary… But at the same time you could see in his eyes that your boyfriend was still there. “Feels good?” He asked, his voice in the dragon form so deep that made your body shudder. He proved your restrains with his claws to make sure they would hold, humming approvingly.

“Yes! Fuck yes. Come on, come on…” You urged, struggling in your restrains, trying to make him do something apart from looking at you.

“Calm down.” He didn’t move, he just kept looking at you intensely. “Be patient.”

He was drinking your naked body in, your dick was so hard, a shiny droplet of precum at the tip. He leaned down and licked it off, his dragon tongue textured and rough made you scream in pleasure. You whined as he did it again. Having his sharp teeth so close to your dick should be scary, but you were so fucking turned on.

“Please.” You knew he loved when you begged, he was a sucker for your pleas, and you were a sucker for him. Especially if you could take him down your throat.

He approached you, his big head was close to your stomach when he parted his lips and breathed fire over your tummy. The first flame hit you right on the belly button, making you scream and twitch against your restrains. The hot feeling making your whole body shiver as you moaned. He did it again, this time over your hip. The tiny flame held for a couple seconds, enough to make your skin tingle and your arousal grow. You moaned again as he did it again. And again. He kept sending little sparks of flame to your skin, alternating between your chest, your legs… Anywhere but your sensitive parts.

“More, please, please, please… More.” You were completely out of it, the mixture between the cold air and the hot flames was making your arousal get so high you feel like you could come with just a touch. But he didn’t give you that.

He kept sending tiny flames to parts of your body, you felt like you were on fire all over, the kind of fire that consumed you from the inside out and ended up with a big orgasm. You were distracted by the overwhelming heat sensation around your body that you weren’t expecting when he sent the flame to your nipples. You screamed loud. He chuckled over you, and you were about to speak and curse him when he sent another flame to your other nipple, making you scream again.

He tortured you slowly, so, so, so slowly. You were going out of your mind with need when he decided to touch your dick. He licked the copious amount of precum around your whole shaft, making you arch your back until it hurt, trying to get closer to him. He swallowed your erection once, twice… Bobbing his big head over you, being careful not to scratch you with his pointy fingers. You were so close. So, so close.

Then he pulled away and you cried out. Tears were running down your face as he kept teasing you, tiny flames around your body again. He was being mean and cruel about it, not letting you come, edging you to the point of madness. You lost track of time, of space. You lost track of your own body to get into a state of mind that made your head float as your body burned. You were never in danger of being hurt, he would never hurt you, but the tortuous edging he was inflicting was making you a mess.

He licked your tears as they fell. “You look so pretty, I wish you could see how handsome you look right now, all needy and panting. All messy and eager.” His words made you cry harder, precum leaking.

You thought he was going to tease you again, start your torture all over, but he lowered his head and breathed a tiny flame over your heated, oversensitive dick, making you cry out so hard you felt you throat tearing and your soul leave your body. You came so hard you passed out completely.

[hyukalyptus]

i'll be okay—yeonjun x fem!afab!reader. reader gets overstimulated and they have comfort sex lol. NSFW/MDNI!

cw. established relationship, afab!reader, chubby!reader implied, reader experiences sensory overload (but there is no specific disability mentioned), yeonjun has stubble ehehe, nipple play, cunnilingus, use of sex toys, unprotected sex (pls wear protection ppl), creampie , pet names (love, baby, jjuni), "i love you," reader wears a dress, lowkey lovemaking, kinda cheesy, i think that's it?  notes. so this is kinda supposed to be, like, as a result of sensory overload. i wrote this as a neurodivergent person who experiences sensory overload, but anyone can get overstimulated, so even if you aren't neurodivergent, you may relate to this! and remember- disability, overstimulation, and sensory overload are different experiences for everyone! no one experiences them the same, SO just keep in mind this is kinda as a result of my personal experience. thank u :3 smut under cut. wc. 1.8K

“I’m sorry we had to come home early,” you say, closing and locking your apartment’s front door. “It’s this fabric…” Tugging at the dress you’d picked out for tonight’s date, you shiver. You knew the fabric wasn’t your favorite, but the dress fit you so perfectly. It couldn’t be bad for one night, right? 

The combination of a stressful day at work, the cacophony of the bustling restaurant, the glaring city lights, and the dress' god awful fabric proved overwhelming. Sensory overload loomed over you from the moment you stepped into the restaurant, but you tried to push it aside, which is never a good idea.

You didn’t have to say anything. Yeonjun knew. He always knows. 

But you wanted to stay, to salvage the perfect date in the perfect dress. And oh how sexy did he look with his slightly grown-out beard, knowing how much you loved the look. Tonight was supposed to be special, and excitement radiated from both of you.

But some days are simply bad and this is one of them. 

“Don’t apologize, love,” Yeonjun says, draping his jacket across the dining table chair. “I couldn’t wait to get you out of that dress anyway.” You wanted to hug him, kiss him, do other things to him, but you couldn’t wait to get this fucking dress off. 

Exhaling a sigh of relief, the familiar comfort of your favorite t-shirt and shorts envelops you as you step out of the closet, finding him patiently waiting on the edge of the bed.

“How are you feeling?” 

“Better—still a bit, you know,” you respond, shaking your hands. “But I’ll be okay.” 

“Need some water?” You nod, watching him walk calmly to the kitchen. How does he always stay so calm? Always your rock. “Here you go, love.” Quietly observing as you settle, he says, “You did look really pretty in that dress.” 

Sitting up, you cross your legs, give him a gentle smile, and say, “Thank you, baby.”

“Touch?” 

Humming, you nod. Warmth spreads through you as his hand gracefully glides from your arm down to squeeze your thigh. Leaning closer, his thumb traces the apple of your cheek before his lips meet yours. 

“You’re always pretty though.” 

The kiss deepens and he leans over, guiding you to lie down as your arms naturally wrap around his shoulders. In his embrace, you find solace and a sense of security, appreciating the constant reassurance he brings into your life.

Every subtle move he makes sends a ripple of response through your body—his hand slipping beneath your shirt to rest on your waist, the delicate texture of his fingertips, even the slightest pinches. It all made you jump. He gently squeezes your tit, making a smile tug at the corners of your lips before swiping a thumb across your nipple experimentally. 

“Sorry—“

You hum, like nuh-uh, you’re not done yet before pulling him back to you. Breaths heavy and deep, he whispers your name as if to ask if you’re okay. He’d never want to overwhelm you, but you want him. 

Trailing his lips down your neck, you say, “I’m still really sensitive, so I’ll have to…you know, take lots of breaks.”

“That’s okay, baby…” Lips brushing your own, the hotness of his breath against your lips grounds you in the moment, hyper aware of his body on yours. “You know I’ll always stop when you need me to.” Tugging at the hem of your shirt—he always lets you take off your own shirt when you’re extra sensitive—his hands rub your waist, giving you time to adjust to sudden exposure. This definitely isn’t the first time you’ve had sex, but each time feels exciting and new. 

Peppering your skin with the sweetest, most sensual kisses until—

Fuck.

Your breath catches in your throat at his tongue against your nipple. A stiffness takes over and as usual, he notices. 

“Feelin’ okay?” He feels good…really good. But you’re still anxious and you still need to look out for yourself to make sure you don’t get too overwhelmed. 

“Yes—” you gasp as your eyes squeeze shut, letting his lips explore your body. He can feel it. That you’re okay. That you want him. But he wants you to say it. 

“More?” 

“Please.” 

“I need you to say it, love.”

Ah, he’s always had such a thing for consent. And you have too. Knowing—saying out loud—how much one wants the other is delicious. 

You chuckle and say, “Ask me first.”

Feeling his smile against your chest, your jitters turn into butterflies. “Love,” he says, peppering your skin with kisses. “I want to…” he starts, skating his lips across your tummy. “God, there’s so much I wanna do to you.” 

Making his way down toward your hips, you can’t help but run your fingers through his hair. “Tell me.”

“I wanna make you feel so good,” he whispers. “Wanna give you one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had. I wanna taste your pussy. I wanna fuck you so slowly it makes you crazy.” Watching how he places the softest kisses everywhere, you’ll forever know how much he loves your body. “Is that okay?”

You hum, giving him the okay to move closer and closer to your pussy, he watches your every reaction. 

Flicking his tongue over your clit, you gasp. You feel it all—everything. His slippery tongue, the cotton bed sheets sticking to your damp back, the uncomfortable position your pillow is forcing you into, his fingernails digging into your thighs, the roughness of his five o’clock shadow against your thighs. Its—

“Stop,” you say, pushing yourself away from him, taking deep breaths. “Too much—sorry…”

“Never apologize, love.” While you’re calming yourself down, he asks, “What was it?”

“Your…um, your little stubble,” you say, chuckling. “Sorry, you look so cute, but…”

“It’s okay.” He smiles reassuringly. “I just won’t eat you out. You wanna use a toy?” Before you can even answer with your simple nod, he’s opening one of the bedside tables. “Which one?”

“Surprise me.” Smirking, he pulls out your favorite bullet vibrator— “Ah, that’s the one I was hoping you’d pick.” It’s a comforting one. You know exactly what to expect from it and there aren’t any surprises, which is just what you need right now.

“How did I know that? You wanna use it or do you want me to?”

“You.”

“Tell me if it's too much, okay?” He starts it off on its lowest setting, slowly easing it onto your clit. Waves of relaxation wash over you, giving you the chance to calm down. He can tell by your moans that you want— “More?” You nod, answering with a quick mhmm and he turns it up to your favorite speed, hitting just the right spot. 

“Oh, fuck, that’s good,” you say breathlessly. Placing gentle kisses on your ribs, he’s getting you used to the feeling of him again. “Can you—” It’s like he read your mind. His tongue finds your nipple, going around it so deliciously. 

You start squirming, ready for more. 

“Jjuni…” you whine, back arching while you claw at his chest. “Need you. Please?” He doesn’t have to ask what position. You have a favorite for these nights. Simple, but effective—a nice kneeling missionary. You’re in a comfy position, he can see his cock going in and out of your perfect pussy, and he can touch your whole body with easy access to your clit. 

“Breathe for me, okay?” How did he know you were holding your breath? You force yourself to relax, his warm hands soothing you even more. He places a butterfly-soft kiss to your lips. “You’re so beautiful, babe.” 

“So are you,” you smile, watching him rub gentle circles on one hip while he slowly pushes himself inside you. “Yeonjun—”

“Fuck, you feel so good, love,” he says. “I’m gonna start moving, okay?”

Nodding, you grab a fistful of sheets at how simply incredible he feels. But—

“Wait, wait.”

“Too much?” Changing his pace, it feels— “How’s this?”

“Oh,” your chest heaves. “That feels good, yeah. Sorry,” you say nervously.

Truthfully, he didn’t mind this at all. He likes taking his time with you. The only thing he doesn’t like is that you feel like you’re burdening him with all the breaks and pauses. But he’s told you so many times, “You’re absolutely perfect, love.” 

You sigh and say, “I love you.” That wasn’t the first time you’d said that, not even that evening, but saying it during sex always turned him to putty. 

“I love you too, baby. So much.” Reaching for your vibrator again, he presses it to your clit, sending shocks through your body. And it feels…so good. But just for a moment. 

“Ah,” you sit up, pushing him out. “I need to take a break.” He nods, giving you space to take a few sips of the water he’d gotten you earlier. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiles. “You wanna try being on top?”

“Nah, I like this position. If that’s okay?”

“Perfectly fine by me.” Spreading your legs again, he runs his hands over your waist, feeling you ground yourself again. “Ready?” 

Every step of the way, he’s so attentive to you and ensures you don’t get overwhelmed or more overstimulated than you already are. And he’s always been like this. Always. Even since the first time you slept together. Sleeping with someone you cared about for the first time was always overwhelming—so many things to think about—am I being too loud? Do I taste okay? Am I making them feel good? It was stressful. But he picked up on it immediately. 

He treated you perfectly. How you always wanted to be treated. He read you so well. 

Those questions inside your head turned into whispers from him—let me hear you, baby. God, you’re so fucking delicious. Fuck, you make me feel so good, love. 

“Jjuni, can you use my toy again?”

“Of course,” he smiles. “Feel good?” You nod again, edging close to your orgasm. As it builds, his whispers become more fervent. “You’re doing so good for me, love.” His voice is soothing, a constant reassurance that you’re in a safe and pleasurable space. Adding just the right amount of pressure to your clit with the perfect pace of his thrusts, your body finds itself in a whirlwind of pleasure and ecstasy as you reach your orgasm. 

The room fills with the subtle hum of the toy, the soft sounds of your moans, and his gentle breaths as he maintains his attentiveness. 

Coming down from your high, you catch your breath and say, “Please cum inside me. I wanna feel you. Please.” He nods, discarding the toy to the mattress, squeezing your tit, not only for himself, but he knows it comforts you. “Please.” 

His grunts get deeper, his thrusts get sloppier, and with a few final thrusts, he reaches his own climax, filling you with warmth and a deep feeling of connection between you. 

Placing a gentle kiss on your shoulder, he whispers, “You’re so perfect, you know that?”

“You are too.” 

“I’m always here for you, okay?”

tags: @https-yeonjun | perm.taglist: open! send an inbox to be added !

[coopersadams]

knees deep

cooper is a fast mover. you're not sure you mind. 802 words.

saw someone talking about cooper fluff and i was like 😵‍💫 written as a light prequel to this but not a necessary read at all.

cooper takes saturday morning breakfast seriously. 

you spend most saturday mornings at the kitchen island, watching him whisk, scramble, toast, and plate breakfast by himself. it’s endearing, the amount of effort he puts in. it’s a routine by now, but you still see the perfectionism at play. you watch him take a second to look at every plate, to take a bite of everything, just to make sure it’s all right. he refuses help (“i want to spoil you guys”) and after a few months together, you had learned not to push him to change his mind. 

riley and logan wouldn’t give it a second thought if something wasn’t exactly right (they ate so fast, you weren’t sure they would even notice). it makes cooper’s attention to detail all the more endearing. 

“so…” he starts, and you lift your head to look at him. 

you’re surprised he says anything. he usually bounces back and forth, humming to himself or murmuring about the texture of the eggs. you’re mostly there for silent company; you read or scroll through your phone at the counter, waiting for him to ask you to get the kids. your interest is piqued. “yes?”

“i was talking to the kids this week,” he says, pulling plates from the cupboard. you can see the tiny upturn of his lips, the way he always looks when he’s holding his cards close to his chest. 

“i should hope so,” you tease, ignoring the good natured roll of his eyes. 

he looks so nonchalant, plating the food in the same way he always does. eggs first, one waffle for each plate, fruit last. such a creature of habit. it makes you grin. “we were talking about how much time you spend here.”

it’s a little bit of a wake up call, and you find yourself sitting up straighter. “oh.”

like he can sense your anxiety—and he can, you’re sure. he knew all your tells. no one could read you quite like cooper. “we were thinking that it might be easier for everyone if you just moved your things in here.” you blink once, and then twice, and then cooper is turning away from the plates lined up in front of him to look right at you. “since you’re here all the time anyway.”

“oh,” you say again, cheeks warm at your lack of wit. 

it’s fast. it’s a little too fast. but it’s also a little too exciting. cooper had a tendency to move fast, like he was working on a predetermined timeline. you hadn’t minded. you love cooper. you love his kids. you love the house. you love being with them, like you fit into the unit. 

“but…my apartment,” you mumble, spinning around in your stool.

cooper sighs. a real, true dad sigh, like he knew this might take some convincing. he rounds the counter to stand in front of you, hands resting on your thighs. “we can pay for it until the lease ends, honey. or we can sell it. whatever you want.” we. like it was his, too. you think you might like that. you aren’t sure yet. “and we can turn the den into that library you’re always talking about.”

you suck in a breath, looking at his hands on your skin. his thumbs rub little circles right at the edge of your shorts, and you take a moment to consider the proposition. you had been together for six months; before you met cooper, you would have laughed at yourself for even considering it. you wouldn’t have considered it, not with anyone else. but you trust cooper. he had been nothing but open with you; he had laid himself all out, asking for your full acceptance or nothing at all. you love him. you feel safe with him.

“you should know…i don’t like to do the dishes,” you say, like it might be a dealbreaker.

he grins. “i know.”

“and i don’t do yard work.”

“that’s alright,” he promises. “you’ll never have to.”

your legs spread only slightly, but it’s enough for him to fit himself between them. his hands slide from your thighs to wrap around your waist. you continue, “and i don’t like your duvet cover.”

he tries to look irritated. “you don’t like my duvet cover?”

you lean into him, chests pressed together. “no. it’s so…white.”

part of you is screaming; your brain is telling you no, absolutely not, it’s not a good time. your heart doesn’t want to listen. any trepidation you feel disappears when he smiles down at you, hand reaching up to brush the high of your cheekbone. “got it. new duvet cover.”

“and everyone’s going to talk,” you remind him.

he leans in, lips brushing yours when he says, “i don’t care.”

it’s enough for you. it's more than enough for cooper.

[factorialsotherfandoms]

"Do you think Philza's okay?"

Fit rolls over to look at Pac, his roommate staring up at the ceiling. He reaches over, cautiously offering his hand. Pac, of course, takes it just as hesitantly.

"Cell's back, maybe after you, and you're worried about Phil?" Okay, so Fit is worried too, but his point is well made. Pac had only told him some of the situation, in whispered tones and terrified whimpers a few hours ago, and he was worrying about someone who was at least safe?

Pac turns his head, and looks Fit dead in the eye. "You're with me. I know you won't let anyone hurt me. But who's with him?"

"He's safe enough," Fit says. "Physically at least."

"He just didn't seem, ah," Pac struggles with his words for a moment. "Well?"

"It's not really my place to say," he replies. "But he's Philza. He'll be fine."

"Will he?" Pac asks, fretting already. "If the Federation is inside his head, making him see things..."

It's a worry Fit has too, one he really doesn't want to think about. He wants to pretend that his old friend is fine, that going and murdering blazes and magma cubes will have fixed everything. He needs to believe it, because the alternative... The alternative is there's nothing he can do.

"Do you really believe him?" Pac asks. "That there was a book there."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Fit sighs, and sits up. He turns on the lamp and stretches, looking around his room of missing texture flooring and ugly walls - the safest place he could think to bring Pac when he heard the news.

"It's not the first time," Fit says. "Phil... He swears it was a dream, that he was just sleeping. He wasn't. Tubbo and me? We checked every corner of his house. He wasn't there. Then he takes us to where he thought he was taken and he swears there's nothing weird about it? But it's full of parrots - they shouldn't have spawned there. Tubbo even found an avocado sapling."

"Philza has a lot of avocados," Pac agrees. "You think the Federation took him?"

"I'm not sure, it's not their usual behaviour," Fit frowns. "But I don't know who else it would be?"

"The codes?"

"Maybe." Fit cracks his head to the side. "But I know Phil. Whatever he saw? It terrified him. And anything that scares Philza Minecraft is nothing you ever want to see."

"Should we ask him if we can visit?" Pac has a calculating look on his face. "I can cry scared all over again, I just need to remember why. And his bunker is very safe. They might look for me in your house, but they'd never think of his."

"Why? Is my company not good enough for you?" Fit is mostly teasing.

Mostly.

"No! No, no, no," Pac waves his hands in a desperate attempt to be understood. "I just... I'm worried, you know?"

"Yeah..." Fit sighs. "Yeah, I'm worried too... I'll ask him."

Pac nods, and Fit types.

You whisper to Ph1LzA: Can I bring Pac over? We might need to stay the night.

Ph1LzA whispers to you: sure mate

Ph1LzA whispers to you: is everything okay?

You whisper to Ph1LzA: We'll explain when we get there

That's the end of that; Fit shows his communicator to Pac, who agrees.

"I'm not really faking the tears," Pac promises, already tearing up. "I just don't think about it, and then it isn't real."

Pac's not the only one acting like that, Fit presumes; Philza's constant denials even with evidence in front of him... Whatever the fuck happened in that forest, it's nothing good. Something so terrible believing his memory is at fault is somehow better.

"To Phil and Missa," Fit reminds Pac, not really needing it.

They warp together, and at the same time.

---

Philza is waiting at the top of the hatch when the pair arrive. To most people he would look entirely normal, but Fit can see the way his eyes flitter as he waves. Pac waves back, while Fit gives his traditional "oi!!!"

Philza laughs, and leads them down into the basement.

"What's up?" he asks the two of them. "Need more toast or something? I thought you were both asleep."

"No, um," Fit looks to Pac, realising they didn't quite work out what to say.

"Bagi told me more about the murders," is what Pac says, his voice dropping very quiet as he does. "She thinks... We think someone from my past is on the island."

"Shit," Philza closes his eyes for a moment. "How bad is it?"

"Last time I saw him," Pac's pace picks up; Fit squeezes his shoulder as he sees panic come in. "Last time... He nearly killed me. And the messages..." Pac grabs the hand on his shoulder and squeezes it back. "Some of them might be addressed to me."

Philza doesn't ask questions, he just glances around his children's bedroom, then looks at Fit. Fit meets his eyes.

Philza sighs, and caves.

"Alright," he says. "Do you want to sleep in Chayanne's room? I can adjust the door to just the three of us, Missa, and my eggs for now."

Fit knows it isn't for Pac's sake that Philza is changing the doors, he knows it for sure.

They get their beds set up, tucked behind the chests where a casual observer cannot see. Philza doesn't have a bed, but Fit makes them for him and Pac, placing them tucked away.

"Would you stay with us?" Fit asks, before his old friend can slip away.

Philza looks genuinely surprised by the request, "why, mate? I'll just be in the eggs' room."

"Safety in numbers, right?" Pac asks, glancing between the two. "I would... Feel safer if you were here too."

Fit knows its a manipulation tactic to convince Philza to stay, to make sure the old crow is not alone. It still rings so very true - and so very against everything ingrained within Fit's soul.

It's fine. For a few nights he can manage it, if its what his two closest friends need.

"Alright," Philza hesitates, but comes over and sits on the edge of Pac's bed. He takes off his backpack, and leans his scythe just in reach. Pac and Fit take the opportunity to remove their prosthetics, hastily reattached to travel over here, and stretch.

When Philza stands again, both of them can see how unstable he looks.

"Let's push our beds together," Fit says. "If we put Pac between us, there isn't an angle they can get him from."

Philza looks at Fit, and knows exactly what he's doing. Still, Philza crafts up a third bed, and squishes it between the two.

He nearly falls as he walks around to do it; Fit catches him, helps him steady, but is brushed off before he can say a word.

"Alright," Philza says. "Pac in the middle then. You won't get too warm, will you?"

"I'm Brazilian," Pac says. "It's always too cold here now Mike is gone."

They both see how heavily Philza drops to the bed, curling himself back to Pac and defensively ready. Fit, on his side, curls close to Pac - his one arm over him.

It's not really a surprise how quickly Pac falls asleep, with the sheer trauma and strain of the day on his back. He quickly falls into dreams, and Fit can only hope they are kind.

"Phil," he asks, once he knows Pac is asleep. "Won't you sleep?"

"You needed a guard," Philza says.

"You know we don't. You and I? We'll wake if anything so much as tests the hatch."

It's true, and they both know it.

Philza, however, doesn't speak.

At least, not for a long time; Fit considers conversation a lost cause and is about to give up and call this good enough when he hears Philza again, voice broken just like it was in the garden.

"If I sleep, will I wake?" is what Philza asks, whispered almost silently. "How will I know when the world is real again? What will I see this time?"

"I'll make sure you wake up," Fit promises, because he can. "And I'll do something to make you absolutely certain its really me."

"Promise?"

Philza sounds so weak, so small like this. Fit... Fit cannot stand it, not at all. He reaches a little further, and manages to put his hand on Phil's shoulder.

Philza's own hand reaches over, clinging to it.

"I promise," Fit says. "We'll wake you if we leave. We won't let anything weird happen, its just sleep."

Philza turns, and his eyes do not seem to trust Fit. But they are also exhausted, and desperate, and terrified.

"Go to sleep, Phil. I won't until you do."

"I'm sorry," Philza whispers, sounding absolutely broken. "Thank you. Both of you. I know... I'm sorry."

Fit squeezes his shoulder again.

"It'll be alright," Fit replies. "I've got you. I've got both of you. It's going to be okay."

Nothing else is said before they eventually fall asleep.

[deathlooksgoodonyou-if]

Saw this on another blog....thought it was rly cute. What would be the ros reaction to the mc placing a flower crown over their head and saying, "For the ruler of my heart."

Jules blinks before a chuckle escapes past their lips and they smile. They take your hand in theirs, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist, then another on your the back of your hand before cupping your cheek and gently biting your nose. "You do know I would be a terrible ruler, right?" They murmur, smiling softly. "You could have anyone you wanted."

"But I want you." You reply and Jules blinks once again, lips parting before they crumble under your gaze. They bury their face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as if committing it to memory, a fond smile on their face.

You always manage to undo them in ways no one can.

Warren's heart feels like it might as well burst of his chest. A smile breaks across his face and there is nothing he can do to stop it. Not that he would ever want to. He has never held himself back when it came to you. He never will.

He leans in, planting a kiss to your cheek, plucking a lily and placing it behind your ear. "I don't want to rule over your heart. I want to serve it."

You are the ruler here. You are the one who has been ruling over his heart for far too long. Longer than you are aware. And he won't have it any other way.

Dylan stiffens under your touch. A crease forms between his brows, a treacherous flush rising up his neck. "You're being silly again." He mutters under his breath, scratching his nose awkwardly.

He never quite knew how to act around you. This wasn't like him. But you make him too aware of himself and this awareness makes him act opposite of how he wishes to behave around you.

"I mean it." You smile.

He hates it when you smile.

It makes him realise how he likes the upward curve of your lips a little too much.

"Ah." Aiden raises his eyebrows in amusement, reaching up and feeling the texture of the crown between his fingers. "Why, thank you, darling." He grins, his chest feels a little lighter with emotions he couldn't place earlier.

Now he knows better. "I'll make sure to be a good ruler and take good care of your heart." He playfully pinches your nose, fighting back a smile.

Jessica's lips part in surprise before a her cheeks heat up and he looks down at the ground, smiling to her herself, her gaze tender. "Thank you." She murmurs softly, under her breath. "I am not sure I deserve it but..." She gazes up at you through her eyelashes. "But is it selfish I like it, despite believing that?"

"You are not selfish. because you deserve it, Jess." You playfully narrow your eyes at her and she smiles.

You're the only good thing in this wretched town. She doesn't want to lose this.

"Okay. I hope you know, I feel the same way about you."

Heather's eyes widen and she laughs. "Really?" She gushes, excitement coursing through her veins and her eyes shining. "You're not just saying that to make me happy, are you?" She pouts.

She hopes you are not. She doesn't know she would be able to bear it. She likes you a little too much for that.

"Never, Heather."

Mia takes the crown off her head, turning it this way and that to take a better look at it. She sighs dramatically, shaking her head. "I could make a better one."

"Oh yeah?"

She laughs at your playful glare. "Is that a challenge?"

She does make you one and rests it upon your head, smiling. "See? It suits you better than me. It's proof you're more fit for that position."

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

Chat writes the plot! Time for more 👑🐲🐟 KotD!

🔥🔥 don't forget to reblog tysm! 🔥🔥

Want to be on the tag list? -> Comment with 'tag me!' Have an idea for next chapter or clicked the wrong option? -> Reblog about it! Check the bottom for the Ao3 link. Latest chapter is below the cut!🔥

~King of the Dragonfish: Chapter 18~

Obi-Wan wakes himself up with a powerful sneeze. He groans, long and low. The sudden jerk of it sends a flash headache searing through his skull like a forest fire. As the pain fades, he realizes that everything aches, and his respiratory system feels scratchy from the back of his throat down into his chest.

Oh bother. He's caught a bug, one potent enough to overcome a jedi's natural immunity to illness. Or, equally likely, he's just that worn down.

The only good part of waking, relatively speaking, is that he's alone and somehow… on a mattress..?

Obi-Wan rolls his head to look at the situation. His vision lags behind the turn of his eyes, making him nauseous, and moving makes his scalp flare in warning. He closes his eyes and breathes for a moment, drawing the force to him in the same way a weaver might run their fingers through freshly sheared wool. It flows through him, and begins bolstering his body against the sickness.

Settled a bit, the jedi opens his eyes to try again. Carefully.

He is still in Maul's private chambers, but that doesn't change the fact that beneath him is a futon mattress, like he'd seen on daybeds in fancy guest rooms. It was thicker than his own pallet in the temple, and zipped up in a soft, removable cover. This is what he lays on.

Obi-Wan has the stray thought that it really needed proper sheets. He sets a hand on his face, and sighs at himself. No, wrong, what it needed was to go back where it came from, just like him.

Cautious, slowly, the jedi master sits up and looks around. He is nonplussed to see his clothes are gone, and confused but interested to notice a literal bottle of water set beside the bed. What he does not see is a sith lord turned deep sea creature.

The memory of claws comes to him, deadly sharpness trailing down his back in the gentle touch of a prospective lover. Obi-Wan droops where he sits. Unfair. This is all utterly unfair.

Maul had become something out of a fantasy. The idea of him, deep under the sea, pining for years to take his revenge, only to change his mind at the sight of his mortal enemy, and instead kidnap them away to be lovers? It was a the plot of a one credit bodice ripper novella, and the force hasn't even seen fit to give him a bodice to wear while, apparently, living it.

Blast it, where are his clothes?

Obi-Wan stares down at his calloused fingers, each digit a little paler than usual. They're dry and cracked from repeated dunks in salt water. The texture of his own fingertips distracts him.

‘I might be disassociating a bit,’ the stewjoni thinks to himself while rubbing his thumbs and forefingers together. ‘I’ve stumbled into somewhere between nightmares and dreams, and my options to deal with it are so few.’

He sighs softly, being open and forgiving with himself.

‘I want to have sex with the man that killed Qui-Gon,’ he mulls wryly, ‘if I make it out of here alive, I think that merits a trip to the mind healers for a guided deep dive of my psyche.’

Obi-Wan chuckles a little, but stops quickly when even that makes a flash headache shred at his brain.

‘Indeed, a good long look. In the meantime… I…’

The jedi draws his knees up, feeling them tremble with fatigue, until he can set his head against the sailcloth over his thighs. He leans there, bonelessly.

Obi-Wan feels cold, but is he actually? Is it emotional cold, fever cold, brisk air on naked skin, or true chill?

Blast it, but he wants Maul to come back. And that is a terrible sign.

Obi-Wan shivers a bit where he sloughs against his legs, just accepting the fact that he wants to be held and petted and treasured and doted on by his own personal monster. It is, most likely, a completely normal reaction to being ill, to want those things. Yes, it really is, isn't it? He exhales heavily, and just lets the truth of it be.

Obi-Wan refuses to cross that line, to consummate this foolhardy preoccupation with his own jailor, but, these feelings are still valid and reasonable.

He feels better for acknowledging it.

Now onto matters of the physical.

Gingerly, the sick jedi eases himself over to get a hold on the water bottle, drawing back and cracking it open. He sniffs it, questioning the water's potability. It's stale, but clean tasting. To his scratchy throat it's a little painful, and a little soothing. He dearly wishes it was tea with honey and lemon.

The jedi drinks half, then recaps the bottle and sets it aside in favor of lowering himself back down onto the futon. If asked, Obi-Wan would swear that he merely closes his eyes for but a moment…

He blinks muzzily, and comes around to fingers carding through his hair. Claw tips slide back over his scalp, so gently it almost tickles.

“Kenobi,” the sith calls, soft and singsong, “Keno… bi~.”

“Mmnnnh,” he replies, feeling the length of Maul's tail pressed against him under the covers. He is dry, sleek scales like rounded glass. One of his pelvic fins rests on Obi-Wan's hip, lightly holding on to him, while the silky upper caudal fins that trail the sith are draped over his legs under the sail cloth and tarp. They're soft. Smooth. When Maul shifts they flutter against the skin of his ankles pleasantly.

Obi-Wan is, once again, wrapped up in the arms and fins of the very same ‘dragonfish king’ he was sent to kill. With an incredible amount of ‘fuck it’ energy, he noses forward under Maul's chin.

“I'm a bit sick,” he admits.

“Hnnn… your flushed cheeks and reddened eyes told me so already,” the other man says, still toying with his hair.

“I want tea,” he sighs, “with honey and lemon. My throat hurts.”

Maul makes this… incomprehensible noise. Not human, not zebrak. In the force he feels… pleased?

“Making wishes of me now?” the sith murmurs, “I suppose I could share one or two, seeing as I have three but do not need any of them.”

...what?

Obi-Wan pulls away to look at him with all the skepticism his dizzy self can muster. Maul smiles back, a cruel twist of lips framed by the most charming dimples imaginable.

He is stunned. This is Obi-Wan's excuse for why he doesn't move away when the sith captures his lips, biting oh so gently at him with his needle-like teeth, then licking his way across and inside.

Obi-Wan lets it happen, eyes drifting closed as he reciprocates slowly. Oh. Kissing makes his head feel better. Whatever chemistry that's about, it's working.

“That's it, jedi mine,” the sith croons to him, “taste me in return, and I will bring you tea.”

Well if it's for a good cause.

Tentatively, Obi-Wan licks at Maul's lips. They're thin but plush, utterly normal if wider than before his transformation. The other man hums, encouraging, the tip of that long pink tongue flicking playfully against his.

Obi-Wan chases it as the slick muscle recedes, finding the pointed tips of Maul's new teeth. He explores them with care, finding out which of his experiences with making out can and cannot apply.

He finds a good angle and pumps his tongue into that wet heat, slickness sliding against slickness. Obi-Wan's head twinges with the movement, but he's a bit too enthralled to care.

Maul makes, just, the sweetest little noise. Begging. Needful. Obi-Wan feels himself stiffening, his cock pressed to Maul's belly where skin fades to scale.

Oh dear. Now that is quite enough of that indulgence.

With one light kiss of the traditional sort, Obi-Wan pulls back and relaxes onto the mattress with a sigh. He watches yellow-green eyes blink open, pupils blown and slow to focus.

“Very good,” the sith tells him, trailing the backs of his fingers down Obi-Wan's face. “You will learn that I keep my promises, Kenobi.”

“If you bring me bread of some kind that hasn't been drowned in salt water, I'll do that again.”

Maul chuckles, sliding out from under the makeshift covers. “You see? Gifts are a good way to show favor.

The jedi would roll his eyes if he wasn't a hundred percent certain it would feel like an icepick in his brain to do so.

To be continued...

-Tag list- (Comment if you want added!)

@obimaulartfire @savageopressbignaturals @icequeen8043 @moonsickvampire @maulish @obi1-kenobae @milkcioccolato @cyborg0109 @krazykupid @messy-sunbeam

New? Start from Chapter 1! 👇🏽

[mwolf0epsilon]

The Umbaran Pathogen - Day 12: Self-Harm

Summary: With Dogma in the brig and Appo's wounds patched, the medics (sans Kix who's accompanying Rex and Fives) are left to cut out the afflicted troopers out of their cocoons to prevent them from changing in the same way as the sergeant had.

Warning: N/A (only some mild grossness and body horror)

Twitch belongs to @gaeasun Pitch belongs to @lost-on-kamino

Prev / Next

[In which the events on Umbara are worsened by an unknown pathogen taking hold of both the 501st and 212th. These series of drabbles will follow a non-linear timeline based on the AI-less Whumptober prompt list for 2023.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

---

"I read somewhere that cutting a caterpillar out of its cocoon kills it." Pitch pointed out as he set down the final bundled-up trooper onto a medical cot. With his brow shiny with sweat and joints beginning to complain from all of the heavy lifting and carrying, he was more than a little happy to be done with the trips to and from the medical wing of the captured Umbaran base. "That they turn into bug soup, so you're not just extracting a little critter..."

"Yes well, those are caterpillars and these are grown men afflicted with some kriffed up alien disease." Coric pointed out as he ran his scanner over one of the bundles, watching the readings with great interest and concentration. "And besides, despite being unable to identify all of the components that make up this material, the scanner shows that they're still intact in there... Not turned into clone soup."

"And we don't want them to transform like Dogma did..." Twitch added. Concern clearly written all over his face as he put a hand on one of the cocoons. Feeling the softer texture rub up against the chrysalis where a vod lay dormant. "Sorry Pitch, but I really don't see any other way around it... We need to cut them out of there before the process starts and they end up aggressive and potentially out of control..."

Pitch sighed but conceded that the two were right. If they just let the troopers remain in this state, they'd just turn into the same kind of monster as Dogma. Or, if his limited knowledge of insects (which was mostly the fault of skimming through the Medic Comm Chat after Canivete went on another infodumping spree while doped out on stims) was anything to go by, they'd end up as some other equally twisted form to fit some kind of cast system.

Eusocial insects tended to be heavily specialized, after all. The most iconic of these creatures being ants, which were widespread across the galaxy with all sorts of adaptations to different kinds of alien environments.

And Dogma's attempt to construct a nest had been indicative of whatever he'd turned into being eusocial in nature. The others would no doubt have become lesser forms of whatever they were becoming, if Dogma was the 'Queen' of sorts.

"I still don't feel comfortable doing anything before the 212th joins up with us... Cani at least is really into bugs and stuff like that. She might know something we don't, like how to extract them safely from the chrysalis..." He grumbled as he went to grab something stronger than a scalpel. The soft outer-shell of the cocoon was easy enough to pierce and remove, but the chrysalis itself was too hard to cut through with one.

"Cani would know, yes." Sponge agreed as they moved over with the electric circular bonesaw, just barely able to contain their glee at being able to use the tool. "With comms down we can't really ask for advice on the matter, however. So we do as the Jedi say..."

"Which is?" Twitch asked, somewhat intrigued.

"Do or do not, there is no try... Or some fancy shmancy philosophical banthacrap like that..." Sponge shrugged as they tore up the nearest silky cocoon and began to saw into the hardened chrysalis.

Being both firm and careful so as to not harm the vod within.

The loud whir of the electric bonesaw was never a comfort when you were in the medbay. And, even if the circumstances behind its use were not the usual grim ones, it still made Pitch's stomach plummet just hearing it in action. Amputations were his least favorite procedure and the sound of the saw was just too ingrained in his brain to not associate it with just that. Unfortunately it was the tool for the job, and Sponge was nothing if not enthusiastic about being able to wield it at any given chance.

Up until the organic casing finally gave way and spat up some kind of unidentified pink juice directly onto their front. Coating half of their face, the protective mask and chest-plate they were wearing, and the bonesaw in it...

"Ough!!!" The surprised medic cried out in a panic and immediately turned off the saw, before the soiled blade could throw the strange sticky substance everywhere. The smell of it however...

Even from a distance it was absolutely overpowering.

"Oh gods! It reeks!" Twitch squeaked in horror, immediately covering his mouth and nose while his eyes watered at the violently repulsive smell. The greenish tint his complexion gained indicative of just how horrific the stench was.

"Karking sithspit!" Coric gagged, recoiling away from both the cot and Sponge, who was in no better condition as they pulled the mask off of their face and shuddered heavily with each of their own gags and retches. "What IS that?!"

"It smells like rotten jogan fruit and trench foot!" Sponge screeched as they clumsily attempted to rip off their gloves so they could wipe at their face in a desperate bid to get what little of the stuff had landed on bare skin. "And shebs! Sweaty gangrenous shebs!!! All in one!!!"

Pitch coughed and spluttered, eyes and nose dribbling helplessly as he tried to get their own throat spasms back in control before they could have a brief reunion with their mid-meal rations. The blue-haired medic managed to just barely compose himself enough to the now-open chrysalis, before noting how its integrity had gone completely out the window and how it was now spewing the vile liquid all over the floor.

Then his eyes traveled from the deflated mess of a cocoon upwards to rest on the clone that had once been contained within all of that goop.

There, right in the middle of the ruined thing, coated in all that grossness, was Lichtenberg. Or at least he assumed so, from the familiar branched scarring that was slowly being uncovered as the pink juices dripped off his prone form and onto the flooring. Something didn't look quite right tho... And, as Pitch squinted at the freed trooper, his blood ran cold as his brain fully registered what was wrong.

"Cut the others open now..." He hissed, shaking away the nausea as he looked around for something to use.

"What?" Twitch glanced over in surprise, still trying to recover himself from the assault on his senses.

"Just do it! We don't have time!" Pitch ordered as he picked up the abandoned bonesaw and practically ran to the next cocoon, being less careful than Sponge in his own turn at hacking and slashing.

Once he made a big enough horizontal gash on the hardened casing to allow the fluid to drain, he moved onto the next cocoon. And then the next one after that. And so on and so forth...

The horrific stench was incredibly overwhelming once he was done, but he didn't have the time to care. Not when he now knew they were on a much shorter deadline to get the vode out of their organic prisons. Something which the others soon noticed, when they finally got a closer look at the stirring Lich.

"Oh no..." Pitch all but heard Twitch whisper.

To put it lightly (as much as physically possible anyway), the lightning-scarred trooper was in quite the state. His non-standard blue eyes had shifted color completely, the iris and pupil becoming the same shade of pitch-black and spreading onto the once-white sclera.

The back of his neck had been completely overtaken by the scales they'd noticed a few days prior. Now appearing to be armored in the same way that Dogma's carapace was, but only just barely since the rest of his body wasn't completely encased by a shell. Only a few key points like the neck, elbows, knees, hands and feet (and a few scales dotted around his cheekbones and forehead).

While he lacked the extra eyes the sergeant had, he did sport a set of antennae that seemed to twitch as they caught a whiff of their scent. At his sides were also a brand new set of arms which were trembling from either low blood sugar, or perhaps from general weakness of being newly-formed and untrained.

In just a few hours he'd changed substantially enough to be a concern. Whatever that gross goop was, it had powerful mutagenic properties and it worked fast.

"Lich..." Sponge's voice was shaky with horror. A sentiment Pitch (and the others) echoed with their own distraught expressions.

The only positive note was that he was the only trooper who's changes had been distinctly prominent. The others were still very early on in their transition into insectoids, with just a few scales and blackened eyes to their names. No extra limbs or appendages.

The trooper in question turned to look at them. Blinking slowly and seeming to be in a post-wake up daze that was hard to shake off. Then, slowly, he began to tremble where he sat as awareness overtook him.

"W-What did you do...?" Lich croaked weakly, sorrowful voice startling them all.

"Lich?" Sponge asked, their own voice tiny as they stared wide eyed at one of the vode they knew so well (out of both affection and necessity) and often teased in good humour.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?!" Lich screeched at them, all four arms moving up to grasp at his own shoulders. Clawed fingers squeezing tightly and causing Pitch to wince and hold out a hand in a useless attempt to placate the altered trooper. "I'M NOT READY YET!"

"Lichtenberg!" Sponge held up their own hands, hoping that by showing that they were unarmed, that maybe he'd let them get close enough to calm him. "It's ok, you're safe now!"

"NO!" Lich snarled, one hand swiping at the air between them in warning, before returning to his shoulder. Squeezing and leaving deep bloodied gashes that had all the medics flinching. "YOU RUINED IT! YOU'VE RUINED ME!"

Sponge backed away, taken aback and very clearly hurt as the heavy gunner despaired at something unknown to them.

"He... Our Leader! Our Leader will be so upset with us!" Lich whimpered as he continued to scratch himself. "He'll reject us! Because we're imperfect!!!"

All around the medbay, the other afflicted troopers began to whimper and wail as they awoke. Seeming to be in the same stupor as Lich. Some nuzzled against each other seeking comfort, while others began to claw or bite at their own skin. Trying to rip it off.

"You did this to us! You destroyed us!!!" Lich gasped between sobs before pointing an accusing and bloodied claw at the pale-faced and quaking medics. "YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!!!"

They had no idea what else to do but to back away and get the last few remaining sedatives they had at hand. As much as Lich's words shook them to their very core, they couldn't allow these vode to self-harm while in their inconsolable states. They'd be damned if any of them died on their watch, while they waited for the 212th to rendezvous with them.

Sometimes Pitch really hated that he'd been the one to pick up the medic role, once Chord had died and been unable to fulfill it. Had a hard time consoling himself after being made to make some pretty tough calls. But, then again, perhaps it was a tiny mercy that his little brother never had to live with the guilt that such a thankless job came with...

Force only knew he could barely manage it himself.

[tenkasato]

HI!!! so I have been reading your akashi FF!! i love all of them makes me burst with so much more love for him!! I am asking for something i have not read yet of akashi ff and hoping you could do it for me!! I am a major akashi ff finder and still have not find this kinda of theme! So i really want an akashi werewolf x human reader or maybe hybrid akashi x reader!! I know im asking a hard one but i really really wish to read akashi being different LOVE you so much thank you ten!!!

Let me start by saying how much this request challenged my imaginations because I find it a fresh and exciting concept to write! It fits Akashi so well. I had so many ideas on how to write this. I even had thoughts of changing the setting to an 18th century scenario. But enough blabber for now. I’ll write the rest of my ramble at the end of this post. Thank you so much for reading my Akashi fics! I appreciate you so much!!! Your words mean so much to me. Hope you enjoy this ride! ^^

Enigma

Scenario: You always knew something horrifying hid beyond the polished exterior he always had.

Pairing: Hybrid/Werewolf!Akashi Seijuro x reader

You’ve known Akashi Seijuro since you were old enough to read.

He was an enigma, like an untouchable being who seemed to have been created with different materials that usually made man. Even as a child, he was pristine. His face was always sculpted to perfect expressions, his speech always playing along pleasant ribbons that slides into your senses. 

You, as a child, were enamoured. 

It was no lie that you’ve fallen for him. You didn’t know when it started, but you thought what matters is what you realized in the process of developing these feelings. 

Your heart sputters and coughs when he smiles. Your skin tingles with his touch, innocent as they are always. When you hear his voice, you hear only music. You want to wrap yourself around the fullness of his kindness like a cloak.

However, you knew you'd have fallen for him for entirely different reasons. Reasons that are unknown to you, especially.

In all these musings, you hadn’t thought he’d also eventually fall in love with you.

Suddenly, you hear your name being called.

Before you can turn, you feel an arm snake around your waist. Akashi Seijuro kisses like someone who’s after your very soul, beyond the beating muscle in your chest. It always starts out soft, like a caress of a feather. Then, it deepens. He sucks you dry and desperately craving for more. He kisses with adoration, intermingled with hunger, enmeshed with respect for you as a person and as his lover.

You loved that about him. Dignified. Compassionate.

“Did the soup I cooked for you make you hungry?” you laugh once he releases you. 

He pretends to think about it as you step sideways so that you’re now walking beside him. You link arms just as he replies, "I'd say it was rather salty this time."

You gasp, shocked he'd say something offensive about your craft. You were groomed by your father to be the next main chef of the Akashi household. Least to say, your skills in cooking are second to none. Even his own father says so. 

"You should know, Seijuro-san, that I made your favorite soup precisely the same way I usually do, down to the finest grain of salt.”

He shrugs from your arm and pulls you closer instead.

"I'm joking," he whispers to your mouth. Akashi guides you into his room, footsteps hurried yet measured until you're swallowed by the darkness.

He doesn't bother to turn the lamp on. But none of you need a shred of light when you both knew his room by heart—the curtains that flutter as the doors close, the corners of the maple coffee table you could bump to on your way to the bed, the velvety texture of the carpets as you kick off your shoes. 

Akashi's bed always smelled of fresh linen. Sometimes you wished your co-workers hadn't changed it that often. You want to savor his scent, even though you revel in it every time he holds you close like this.

"You're busy today," you comment with a sigh as he kisses your collarbone. 

He smiles, his hand slivering under your shirt to your spine, arching your back. "I'm sorry. There are deadlines coming. Even Father is getting restless nowadays."

"I miss it when we used to just spend the whole day making cookies," you say. "You've always been a busy bee even when you were in middle school. But at least we're able to hang out more often than before."

Akashi senses the shift in your tone, the longing turning down its inflections, the unsaid words he can find in the way you stare into his eyes. His smile drops a little. It becomes solemn. You lean forward to kiss the growing frown away.

Akashi Seijuro is perfect. A gem you could find no flaws in, smooth and brilliant. And most people, if not all, would've been drawn by this to him; after all, you've witnessed throughout the years how he's naturally able to draw them to him because of the qualities he possesses. 

You're different. 

Maybe it's because you practically grew up in the Akashi Manor, watched him turn from a boy to a man and tasted the delicacy reserved in his lips for you. 

You knew him intimately, but you knew he had something else hidden in the layers of corrugated paint coating him. You knew that whatever it is, it's the very thing you fell for.

"I wish you could stay here tonight," he murmurs once your mouths part, you still on top of him, his arms caged around you as they always are by the end of each make out session. 

"Why can't I?" you try, more of out curiosity rather than dismay. "If you tell me to stay, I'll stay."

He places his hands on your cheeks and prompts you to lift your chin up. You regret it. The crimson of his eyes immediately drowns you in flames. 

Mesmerized, you unconsciously reach out to his face to thumb his bottom lip.

"If you stay, I won't be able to keep myself from taking you here." The bared desire in his low voice send chils to crawl under your skin, through your sinews into your bones. 

There.

Right there, you knew you were right. And you made it a point to find out what it is no matter how monstrous or horrid it could be. The unbridled need to know wrings your neck. 

You studied his actions, his nonverbal cues, mannerisms, rise and fall of his voice, his expressions. You searched him between the lines. You drank in every new detail about Akashi Seijuro in mad obsession. It doesn't come across as odd to anyone else in the mansion. They knew you shared a close relationship with the young master.

But after the gruelling months of searching, you come out with nothing.

One afternoon, you flicker your gaze to Akashi, the warm sun tinting his red hair a deep shade of amber. 

Akashi notices your stare and flashes you a smile. 

You start to wonder, as you interlock your fingers together, what exactly are you looking for? What is he hiding?

A weakness no one knows? Cowardice he keeps away? A hidden scar no one's seen? A deep desire? Or maybe, a family secret?

Akashi misinterprets your silence. His hold on your hand tightens, prompting you to snap out of the trance you're in. The concern in his eyes is unmistakable. 

"How are you this beautiful?" you ask to derail him, a wry smile on your lips. 

"I can ask you the same thing," he shoots back.

Laughter bubbles in your gut as you shake your head and pry your hand from his. "This is why I don't believe it when your friends say you don't have a sense of humor. You're hilarious."

Akashi obviously finds that amusing because he lets out a rare laughter as well. So pure. Too pure. Your heart pricks and shrivels.

That night, you decide not to go into his room. You tell him you are going somewhere tomorrow so you want to rest earlier. Akashi doesn't mind, of course. Your nightly bonds are always interrupted with your own personal affairs. It isn’t unusual. 

The sound of grass crunching under your bare feet fills your ears. The night sky is overcast with clouds, covering the only sources of light in a thick blanket. The garden behind the manor is riddled with all sorts of plants, unkempt and flourishing in their own habitat. It's the only part of the Akashi residence that looks untamed—a stark contrast to the opalescent immaculateness of the rest of the mansion. 

You loved gathering your thoughts in quiet places, but the garden has always unnerved you. You steered clear of it, until tonight that is. 

You couldn't have gotten the most perfect timing. 

That's when you see it, or rather him. He's enveloped in the darkness that engulfs his entirety. A hulking figure completely merged within the shadows of the night and the tendrils of the wild plants. 

You gasp, not able to keep the excitement and dread from filling your throat. The sound catches his attention. He snaps and lunges after your frozen form. 

Your body hits the soil. Looking up in a mad frenzy, you finally see the creature pinning you to the ground. 

A strangled noise garbles your voice.

Face perfectly sculpted. Expressions sharp as a knife. Hair blood-red in the night. Eyes flashing cold, gleaming gold looking down upon you with repugnance and animalistic desire. 

Who is this?

You're paralyzed in unadulterated fear.

"Se-Seijuro-san—," you begin to beg but you're interrupted when he presses his lips to yours hard enough to bruise. A kiss. Liberated from reason, spiteful and also lust-driven. 

So unlike the one’s you’ve always received.

Your stomach churn as he swipes his tongue over your lips, heartbeat quickening when he nibbles at the skin over your pulse.

"Afraid now, are we?" he hums, tone taking a deranged ebb. 

You want to scream, to let out the bile building up in your throat, to claw at the hand now wrapped around your throat. You found what you were looking for—the beast that mercilessly shatters through the glass-like mask Akashi had always worn. 

You raise a hand to shove him, but he catches your wrist and pins it above your head. When you meet his uncompromising stare once more, you see him for who he is, unearthed, unshackled.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" he whispers. 

Every muscle, every fiber of your body goes fraught at his voice as a whimper tears out from your throat. Genuine thrill, however, tingles your spine and tangles them into knots. You need to know more about him.

With a nod, you concede. Akashi nips at your jawline before carrying you in his arms. 

The last thing you remember about that night was his smile, one that you didn't know to whom it belonged to anymore.

Taglist: @shakethatsassyass @the-chronicles-of-a-bookworm @thesongstressayre

So… I feel like this has been cut short. Yes, there might be a part 2 *hides in the back*. This was actually inspired by the novel “Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde” where in Hyde the repressed id counterpart of the ‘original’ identity, Jekyll. Is Akashi here a werewolf? Or is he something else? For now, I’d like to leave it to the readers to imagine. The other Akashi reader met in the end hasn’t revealed anything yet after all. Please share me your thoughts! Thank you for making it this far! ^^

Another sidenote: I love dark, gothic themes. I feel a bit rusty after not having written much in my element for a while, but I hope I was able to deliver ^^

[prsk-krow]

THY ✨ANON IS BACK FRON THE DEAD JAHAHAHA!

Greetings once again :D!

May I request separated Romantic headcannons with Ena and Mizuki with a Reader that's very much have learned all ways of proper etiquette and have become somehow elegant as such. Bonus if Reader is a noble and which is the reason why Reader bothered to learn etiquette anyway. Another bonus if Reader wears a royal suit or something in one of their dates 👀

I just have been reading a lot of manhwa these days, im so sorry ( ._.)

{Ena/Mizuki with a proper, noble Reader!} [R]

Heya there, ✨! Congrats on becoming the first names anon here! I don't know much about manhwa, but I hope this was enough to fit your likes!

Ena Shinonome

Let's be fair, Ena hates people with big egos. As someone who has had to work extremely hard and put a lot of effort into what she does to not receive any recognition, she does tend to resent those who believe they deserve it without the same sacrifices...

So when she hears about your noble status, it gives her a bad impression. Since she hasn't actually met any people like you before, she's fallen for a few stereotypes herself, as much as she tried to refuse it.

She was... Stunned when she first saw you. Your look wasn't standoffish, or too overbearing. However, your appearance alone established a regal atmosphere without it feeling suffocating. She was stunned...

She would take a few secret photos of you for her to have fun editing. This was a pretty rare chance, after all! She never used the regal themes much before in her edits, so this could be an interesting change of pace. She wouldn't post them without your permission, and would always block your face though!

Honestly, she was at a loss. What was she supposed to do? Was she supposed to act natural? No, that would be too offensive! Should she act formal as well? She has never been too good at it!

Before long though, she learns that you don't mind her normal attitude, as long as she keeps the condescending part to a minimum, and she sighs in relief.

She will definitely ask about how your place looks! The colors, aesthetics, textures, she wants to know it all! If you're able to show her photos, she'll spend hours staring at them to take in every single pixel! Also...

"How did you just keep your cool talking with that cashier?? She was just so rude! She didn't need to pry into our personal life with those questions! God, it's so frustrating what some people do! But... You didn't bat an eye, nor raise your tone! How...?? You're so amazing!"

You shrug it off as something you have to deal with often, and get used to, and Ena seriously questions the implications that you and others of the group may not be so different...

Offer her lessons in proper manners, it could go a long way! Ena isn't the type to mince her words, so this could help her a lot to stay out of trouble...

All in all, meeting you and spending time with you would be an enlightening experience for her, to learn and to explore a side of the world she knew little about! And with you by her side, she could work on some positive attitudes for a change!

Mizuki Akiyama

Mizuki knows that acting the way they do isn't the most pleasing for any stranger, so they have learnt about how to act respectfully and properly, even think it may not seem like it!

That's why they were a bit stiff when first meeting you, making sure you didn't mind their normal attitude, before relaxing once you tell them that it's fine, that they didn't need to force it too much.

They will still treat you a bit special, teasing you less and being generally more respectful altogether! It's... Weird. Their usual energy still shines through, and it's evident that they aren't acting as before.

If any of your clothes need a small touch up, they will jump at the opportunity and help you! They will be a bit nervous working with such precious materials, but their talent is unmatched!

They will also host small dress up sessions in your house with all of the clothes you don't use much. They look like they're having so much fun... These clothes are so rare after all!

However, they're taken by surprise when you tell them to try some out. It's... A shock! Mizuki, wearing regal clothes! Well, don't mind them as the session doubles in length and noise with them squealing and getting excited!

Since then, they've fully loosened up and now treat you like anyone else! Teasing you, trying to crack your respectful demeanor, taking cover behind you when someone else (Ena, usually) starts to criticize their behavior...

It becomes a test of sorts, as you try to endure either the urge to shut them up or to laugh at their behavior, although you will laugh more when out of the public's eye. It's such a weird experience, unique of such a person like them!

"Waaaah, why is Ena so meaaaan?? The only thing I wanted was to ridicule her by showing how much editing her selfies went through before being posted! I mean, three hours?? SERIOUSLY?? And she says that I'm the unreasonable one! Waaaahhh... You're on my side, riiiight??"

They do know when to tone it down though, and when they notice that you're tired or simply not having any of it, they return to a more passive attitude, even showing a respectful front instead of you at times!

All in all, they will flip your life upside down, so long as you stay by their side! Everything becomes lighter and brighter next to them, letting you lower your guard with no fear of needing it on, thanks to the casual environments! Just make sure to remain by their side... You're a pillar of strength, even if you don't realize it.

[circusgoth-dotcom]

Say Yes To The Dress

Ship: Cola Bubbles x Ramona Flowers

Word Count: 670

Summary: In anticipation of my first dress purchase in 7(+) years, here's a fic about Ramona giving my s/i the exact same dress I ordered. :0)

Tag List: @canongf @futurewife @rexscanonwife

A warm summer breeze wafted through the open windows of Ramona’s duplex as she sorted through her expansive wardrobe. One of her current boyfriends, Cola, had come over to help with the task as well, and now returned to her room from getting a Mello Yello from her fridge.

“How’s it coming along, ‘Mona?” They asked, sipping on their soda.

“I don’t think we’re even halfway through,” she sighed as she compared two similar pairs of shorts.

“Hey, at least we’ve got the categories sorted out, right?” Cola tapped the sticky notes labelling each pile: donate, garbage, upcycle, keep, never worn… it set its drink aside and dived into the closet, brushing his hand over all the different textures of Ramona’s garments. “Man, you always have the cutest shit…”

Ramona smiled. “I know. You compliment me all the time.”

“Yeah, because you’re my girlfriend, and that’s my job. To bask in your inherent beauty and good taste.” They turned around to glimpse the sure blush on her round cheeks, then turned again as a dress caught their eye. They plucked it off of the hanger rod and brought it out into the light. “Does this one still fit you?”

It was a short, white number with lacy details and off-the-shoulder puff sleeves. A small, cross-shaped detail situated under the bust glittered in the afternoon sun rays.

“I honestly forgot I had it,” Ramona set down the shorts on their respective piles and took the dress from her partner, holding it up to her body and looking at her reflection in her full-length mirror. She turned slightly, eyeing how the fabric lay against her curves. “It might. I’m not sure if I still want it, though.”

She handed it back to Cola, who seemed mesmerised by the garment. “I haven’t worn a dress in ages. I stopped because, you know, I didn’t feel like much of a man, wearing them and being shaped the way I am…”

“You can try it on if you want.” She then pointed to Cola’s soda can. “Can I have a sip?”

“Yeah, sure,” Cola smiled and handed it to her, their eyes sparkling. “A-and… you mean it?”

“Of course.”

“Well… alright! Best do it now and not like how it looks than not do it and regret it later.” Cola laid the dress on Ramona’s bed, removing the hanger, and set to stripping away its Weezer tank top and jean shorts, leaving itself in a black sports bra and white boxers.

“Here, I’ll help you. Arms up, and take off your glasses,” Ramona instructed, setting aside the can and reaching for the dress. Blushing, Cola did as it was told. Bunching up the thin fabric, Ramona laid it at Cola’s feet. He stepped into it and allowed her to pull the dress up his body, adjusting it as needed so that it looked right on him. He slipped his arms into the cuffs and anxiously pressed his palms down on the skirt of the dress, completely red in the face. Ramona smirked and handed him his glasses.

“W-well?” Cola asked quietly, too anxious to look in the mirror.

“See for yourself,” Ramona hummed, gently turning him toward his reflection. Slowly looking up, it gasped, covering its mouth.

“Holy shit…”

“You are adorable, Cola.” She leaned over and pecked his cheek, making him bury his face in his hands in embarrassment.

“You’re sure I can keep this?” He asked softly after lifting his face and inhaling sharply.

“Yes, Cola, you can keep it, I’m not going to wear it. We can go on a date, you wear this and I’ll wear my blue dress.”

Cola giggled, twisting his short hair around his finger. “Oh, gee, that’d be…” He giggled again and cleared his throat. “Sounds like a plan. Why don’t we do it tonight, take a break from this clean out and get some dinner with Scott?”

Ramona nodded and kissed him again, on the lips this time. “I love you, Cola.”

“Love you, too, Rammy.”

[depressedstressedlemonzest]

ASGJG:ALSJG: YOUR TAGS LEM!!! 🥺🥰 YES THEY HAVE SIX KIDS it's way too much but Ian has always wanted a big family. One of the boys thinks he might be gay too, which is why Mickey thinks they're the perfect fit for them, he just wants to give them a safe home, like he never had 🥺 on top of that, the boys instantly started grilling them about what kind of home they'd get and he loved that about them, while Ian just thought, what a bunch of brats, I wanted a baby! He thinks a baby means bonding from the start; it's weird to suddenly have a house full of young people with already formed opinions and ideas. But he gets used to it and ends up loving them anyway. Then later on they just get more and more kids, including a baby 🥺 they get to have it all and be a happy little family! 🥺

I love that they have six kids, I can see that for them!!

NOT MICKEY WANTING TO GIVE THEM A SAFE HOME LIKE HE NEVER HAD 😭😭😭😭

OMG that sounds like shit Mickey would do, and it reminds me of Carl when they were in foster care for a bit when he and Liam were with the gay couple.

I can TOTALLY see Ian being pissy about that, and wanting a new life to help mold into a small person and then into an adult, who would have thought kids with already formed opinions and ideas would cause such mayhem? He shouldn't have to debate with this eight year old about why he should clean his room. "It is clean it just isn't clean to YOUR standards, why should I do that when it's MY room and where I spend MY time? It's my safe place right? It should be how I want it!"

Mickey nodding, "He's got a point Red, let him keep his room how he wants it. It's not like we're having family pictures in there or having people gather there for Thanksgiving."

"Mickey his room needs cleaned that's one of his chores!"

"Ian, as long as there's a clear path from the bedroom door to the bed in case of a fire I really don't see what the big deal is."

Ian gets all huffy thinking Mickey is picking the kid over him so the kid would like him more.

"Ian, this isn't about picking sides, it's about compromising between you two. When he gets sick of clothes being on the floor he can do with them what he wants. Now he should have to bring dirty dishes out of there, and make sure he isn't giving any critters a nice place to hide, but other than that? Who cares? Our home is his safe space, but his room is his sanctuary away from everyone else when he needs his privacy, when he needs to calm down."

Ian takes a deep breath and sighs but he does understand what Mickey is saying and then gathers the humility to apologize to the kid, maybe open up to him about how he hated his room being messy as a kid because there was three of them shoved in one place together and he doesn't want the kid to feel that way.

Or how one kid absolutely won't eat tomatoes, grapes, strawberries, basically any fruit.

"You're not leaving the table until you eat that, and if you do? when you come back you're going to have the same fruit to look at."

"Ian why are you so hung up on fucking grapes, bananas, and strawberries?"

"Fruit is important! It's part of a balanced diet and kids need two cups a day! It isn't like I'm asking for him to eat an entire watermelon!"

"I would eat a fucking watermelon, maybe not a whole one at once, but I can eat that."

Mickey and Ian both look at the kid in surprise, "You like watermelon?" Ian asks.

"Yeah, sometimes, it doesn't bother me like grapes and strawberries and bananas do. I can eat apples too, but the red ones, not the green ones."

"Why can you not eat grapes and bananas and strawberries?" Mickey asked gently.

"The texture bothers me, strawberries are inside out and the seeds are gritty, bananas are too mushy and are like someone's already chewed them up, grapes and tomatoes for that matter are too icky tasting, and they have a skin that I don't like, it gets stuck in my throat."

Mickey takes a moment to breathe in all the kid said, "Ian did you ask him if he liked it before giving it to him?"

Ian gets defensive, "I shouldn't have to, do you think anyone gave a shit about what we ate as kids? I know we both would have been lucky to get a half eaten peach. I don't want our kids being stunted because of the food they eat and fruit is important!"

The kid looks at Ian in surprise, and Mickey does too, but for different reasons.

"Ian, maybe this time we can skip the fruit, and next time we're at the store we can get ones he likes so he'll eat them? That way he's getting fruit that he'll eat and we're making sure he's having a nutritious intake."

"I'm your kid? You mean you really want me?"

Ian and Mickey both lose their shit and come hug the kid tight, then they hug each of the other kids.

Sorry went on a little bender there but I can totally see both things happening.

I would love to read any and every future gallavich parent fic you have!!!

[nixnjix]

Zhen looked down at his bowl, eyes filled with doubt. He had learnt something new today. When they managed to put their minds together, they could make an edible dish. Whether it was presentable… He lifted up stringy pieces of green, his lips twisting. 

They were still learning. 

Not that neither one of them knew what they were making. Ginjiro had his specialties and Zhen had his own as well. He could smoke a mean piece of meat and Gin was a natural at handling dishes related to the ocean. But having nothing to compliment his meat, Zhen was forced to accept… this.

Ginjiro insisted he tried this seaweed alongside his dish, the man seemingly eager to dig into his own bowl. All the while, the scent of the sea seemed more potent than usual, wafting throughout his quarters.

"Is this edible…?" Zhen was hesitant to try. The curiosity was there but aversion won out in the end as he set the bowl aside.

Noting his behavior, Ginjiro, face stuffed with seaweed, stretched his chopsticks, offering. "Want some?" 

Zhen stifled a fit of laughter at his face. 

"It tastes just like the sea. Salty and fishy." Ginjiro added. 

"It's always the sea with you," Zhen muttered. The offering was enticing however, his gaze lingering. 

"Why do you think I live in it?" He remarks with a brilliant smile, eyes glimmering.  

Maybe it was the smile that had him leaning in. The unhidden joy there. Zhen found himself taking the offer, suppressing his response to the unknown texture meeting his tongue. 

He mulled over it, chewing slowly. To his surprise, it was exactly as Gin described. Maybe a bit strong, the potent taste filling his nostrils, but acceptable.

"Well?" Ginjiro asked, eagerly waiting, watching.

"OK. You were right," Zhen reluctantly agreed. 

"Here then." Another offer. "I don't mind sharing." 

Zhen quirked an eyebrow but took it nonetheless. It was the only way he could bring himself to try it, lacking the courage to touch his own. Yet somewhere in between, he became aware. 

The hidden lidded gaze of Ginjiro upon him in between the offerings, the soft smile. The man was transfixed, making careful note of his reactions, seemingly finding them enjoyable. 

I-I.

Zhen became self-conscious, heat rising to his ears and cheeks. Subtly he withdrew, eyes averting. 

"Ah." Aware, Ginjiro began to fret. "Am I staring too much? Sorry I'm staring too much. I'll stop now. Just couldn't help myself." He quickly resumed stuffing his face, distracting himself with what was left. 

Zhen frowned slightly, suppressing a small sigh. I have a lot to learn. It was a miracle in itself that someone found him fascinating on a level of intimacy. He hadn't an ounce of extraordinary in his bones, he felt.

He was… unused to it. But he wanted to preen all the same for Ginjiro. 

Looking at his bowl, he grabbed ahold of it. Zhen hesitated before offering a piece of seaweed in truce. "I'm trying… it's all new to me but I get it. And…," he inhaled deeply, his lips curling into a smile. "I'm grateful for the interest, truly." 

[finefeatheredfriend]

i knew i had some satin-y fabrics in my stash that would fit well with the ones i chose - one of them turned out to be plastic so i'd rather not use it for this, the other one is half polyester half cotton and a tiny bit of silk mixed in (it's a table cloth i got second hand) and i think i can accept that there's some plastic in it because the silk sounds fancy af lol

it's just that they're so similar and idk how to feel about it! i think it'll still give some contrast, if not in colour then in texture and shine... idk! i'd love some contrasting colours too though

i might just use the dark purple lining fabric for the piping too - it'll be a nice contrast in the collar section, but then it's the same fabric between the lining and outer fabric in the sleeves and hmmm i don't like that - i want contrast there too!

so do i do purple in the collar section and light green grey-ish in the sleeves..? but ugh i also don't want to make it too busy with too many different fabrics you know!! cause the piping is supposed to be just one fabric... sigh

[meowizard]

ugh. how i would make monster high customs of my cake ocs:

tropical soda: base clawd, with clawdia's slimmer (but still 'big sister', which is to say, tall) legs bc high heel sandals would be fun to make. clawdia's face is probably the best fit too, as long as her nose could be sanded down. i'd feel too mean sanding down her goregeous goregeous fangs, so if i'm keeping her ears i'm keeping those. sa is, technically, at nd roots, a dog, and glueing on ear fluff is absolutely essential and so fun. i would probably have to use yarn hair to get the volume- i'd need two different shades of orange and an accent light blue. their hat and shorts are canvas - i could probably repurpose a tote bag for that. i love painting canvas its such a good texture. uhhh bikini has to be authentically stretchy or i'd never forgive myself - but tbf it'd be so small i don't know where i would get fabric i'd like to use. bright orange string is easy to come by as trash on beaches, though. shirt i'm tempted to crochet, but idk if i would like the amount of texture, i think it would take away from the hair.

very berry: frayed satin ribbon and crepe and beaded skirt. okay now that's out of the way: i have no clue who i'd use as a base without having to buy epoxy :( possibly a g3 drac, but her arms are too skinny so maybe i'd replace em withhhhhh abbey's upper half? that be good because drac is super short, and abbey's face mould is pretty on the nose for a round-eyed and flat-nosed hollyberrian. the problem is that neither of them are as dark as kix. maybe catty will be (as of posting she's not released her) but colour correcting #00000 skin would be soo hard. sigh. i digress. if i could use as much silk as possible on her clothes that would be cute - using selvedge edges and such for her pettiskirt. purple and pink pleather would be perfect for her dragon-scale boots. and her handwrap might have to be crepe paper too idk how i'd make it sit close to the skin like real bandages. her other glove - ugh i dont even want to think about it, probably just buy a bunch of tiny pompoms and stitch them together. or beads!

black licorice: hahahahhahha i'd use a base from a entirely different doll line. something tiny skinny and toddler-sized in comparison to the monster highs. idk which maybe from the pixie lines from eah? i'd have to shrink the head in that case bc i hate the bobble headed look its so not cute. and we want him to be kind of creepy anyway :3c. i'd use hot glue for his goopy hair - if its not opaque blue-black i'll just paint over it. some glow-in-the-dark paint details would be cool too! painted black felt for his boots to give the congealed look

crowned cream: g3 frankie's head for sure, but cat demew's body for the claws, and so i don't have to build up the white that hard. I have blonde and white kanekalon for its hair and i'd like to make a crown out of glittery hot glue and red velvet. pleather and more velvet for her details, and some kind of suede?? i would 3d print the skull since i don't trust fimo clay

pomousse: ooh. howleen base, probably. again. the body is perfect..... more or less......... i can't use a g3 doll because she doesn't have the same smile and that's very important. i dont know, actually, but there's no little sister dolls with her skin tone so we can rule out not painting her at least. i have a perfect red for her hair that i could colour but im not sure its heat resistant? (its not) so itd be a little hard to twist into bantu knots. her dress is made of muslin and her robes of red linen.... but linen doesn't look great on doll scale so lets use polyester instead. id like to use sublimation paints for the intensity, but i dread to make her pattern ssksjskjsksksksks........

[writer-updates]

Sebastian Knight

Chapter 12 - Liliana

Walking around the penthouse suite, I couldn't be Sebestian owned more than one place. It honestly shocked me, when he drove here. Taking a deep breath as I looked out of the big windows peering at the people on the ground, who just looked like ants.

I felt Sebastian's arms wrap around my waist pulling me closer to him. He has been worried all day.

"I've just spoken to my Papi, he wants to have a chat with you and me. So we are leaving for Chile in a few hours. I've asked one of my workers to go and buy you some clothes," Sebastian mumbled on my skin as he kissed my exposed shoulder.

"But how do they know what I like?" I asked as I tilted my head up to meet his eyes.

Sebastian rolled his eyes, as he let out a chuckle, "Come on baby, you really think I haven't got you figured out. I've known you for a while and well, you may wear different styles but the colour is the same. I gave them a list of what you like to wear most times."

Rolling my eyes, I sighed, "So I'm finally meeting your Papi as a partner?" 

I've met his Papi a few times in the past but it was only brief as I was working at my father's bar. It's weird how I haven't heard from them, maybe Sebastian scares them too much.

"Yes, come on let's head to the airport." 

****

It's about 2:30 pm when Sebastian and I arrive at the airport. His driver for the day Taylen was driving us onto the talmak, where a big private jet was awaiting for us.

I have never seen anything like this before, Sebestian held my hand giving it a squeeze. Deigo was already waiting outside the private jet with a few other guards who will be coming with us.

As Taylen pulled up, Sebestian stepped out and I followed behind. Sebestian thanked Taylen before he took my hand heading up the stairs into the plane.

The plane itself was beautiful, brown wood texture, with white leather seats. Not to mention a bedroom suite just for him, well I'm hoping it's not all for him.

"Liliana, I want you to meet the crew on this flight. These are the stuitesses Gayle, Bailey and Taylor. Our pilot will be Richard and co-poilt is Deigo. It will be 10 hour flight. So we have some time alone," he wiggled his eyebrows at me.

I couldn't help but blush before shaking hands with everyone, although Gayle looked a little jealous and upset. Gayle is a good-looking woman-a tall, good-looking woman. She wears her short, salon-blond, perfectly layered and coiffed hair like a sophisticated crown. She's dressed in a pale gray pantsuit; the slacks and fitted jacket hug her lush curves. Her clothes look expensive. 

At the base of her throat, a solitary diamond glints, matching the single-carat studs in her ears. She is well groomed-one of those women who grew up with money and breeding, though her breeding seems to be lacking this evening; her pale blue blouse is undone too. far. Like mine. I flush.

"Sebastian, welcome back, I hope this flight is comfortablefor you and Liliana." She beams, showing perfect white teeth, and holds out a manicured hand to shake first Sebestian's, then my hand. 

It means I have to release Sebestian's hand to reciprocate. She's a fraction shorter than him, but then she's in killer heels.

"Gayle," he says politely, but i could see the look on his face, he wasnt impressed by her actions. I smile coolly.

He brushes his lips against my temple, taking me by surprise. See . . . he's mine. Annoying-infuriating, even-but mine. I grin. Right now, I really love you, Sebestian Knight. I slip my hand around his waist then into his rear pocket of his pants and squeeze his behind. Gayle gives us a thin smile. Sebastian looked hard at her for a moment before his attention turned to me.

"I want everyone to make sure this flight is perfect. It is Liliana's first time travelling so far, so I want her to be comfortable," Sebestian spoke to the crew.

"You got it boss, we will make sure no one messes this up for you and Liliana," Deigo's eyes flashed towards Gayle's giving her a warning look, all feared.

Taking my hand, he leads me to it, Gayle following in our wake. I finally remember my manners.

"Would you like something to drink?" Gayle asked me first. "Maybe a glass of wine?"

"That would be lovely, thank you Gayle, dry white if you have it," I replied.

"And you Mr Knight?" Gayle asked.

"A whiskey on the rocks, thank you," he spoke while his eyes never left me.

Gayle nodded and walked away making sure her hips moved. 

"I'm so sorry about her, she's never been like this before," Sebastian whispered against my hair.

"Probably the last time, you didn't have a girl attached to you," I replied.

"You are more than just a girl," he growls. "You are mine... forever mine."

Gayle returned back with the wine and whiskey handing it to us all.

"Boss we will be starting to leave once we have the all clear from air traffic control," Richard spoke.

"Thank you, Richard," Sebastian replied while taking a sip of his whiskey.

I sipped on my wine, smiling at the taste. Sauvignon blanc one of my favourites, I used to have this at the bar all the time while I sang.

I could see Gayle giving Sebastian side eyes, making me feel uncomfortable. Leaning into Sebestian's ear, I nibbled on it for a second.

"I'm going to speak to Gayle for a second," I spoke, causing him to look at me. "I'll be right back."

Standing up, I placed my wine glass on the table and made my way over to Gayle, the suitesses left for us to chat.

I cleared my throat, making Gayle aware of my presence, she turned around and looked at me, her eyes were wide for a second. Then calling on all my inner strength and the fact that I've been seriously piqued for the last 20 munites, I let her have it

"You're right to be nervous, Gayle, because right now you are working for Mr Knight. But I'm sure we'll be fine as long as you keep your hands off him, he is mine," a low growl left my throat.

She gasped, looking over to see Sebastian wasn't even looking at us, he was looking out the window waiting for the plane to take off.

"Otherwise, you're fired. Understand?" I enunciate each word clearly.

She blinks rapidly, utterly stunned. She cannot believe what I've said. I cannot believe what I've just said. But I hold my ground, gazing impassively into her widening brown eyes.

Don't back down. Don't back down! 

I've learned this maddening impassive expression from Sebestian who does impassive like no one else. I know that being hired by him is like a life change, because the pay. Plus he's so good looking.

"Liliana- Mrs Torres... I'm so sorry. I never-" She flushes, unsure what else she can say.

"Let me be clear. Sebestian is not interested in you."

"Of course," she murmurs, the blood draining from her face.

"As I said, I just wanted to be clear."

"Mrs. Torres, I sincerely apologize if you think . . . I have-" She stops, still floundering for something to say.

"Good. As long as we understand each other, we'll be fine." With that I turned on my heel and walked back over to Sebestian sitting down next to him.

"Everything okay?" He asked with a smirk on his face.

"Yes, now I am," I replied.

Sebestian chuckled before leaning in and kissed me on the lips. He made sure to look at Gayle while doing it, letting her know once and for all he was taken.

"I'm proud of you baby," he said once we pulled away. "Always stand your ground, never let anyone drag you down. You are becoming more and more like me." I could sense the pride in him and his eyes.

I smiled and leaned my head on his chest, even though he was feared by almost everyone. He held my heart in his hands and I held his.

"Alright boss, we are taking off now," Richard spoke over the intercom.

All the crew went to there designated area while the plane took off. I heard the door close, making me look up to see the section we were on was all closed up.

I gasp with surprise and his lips are on mine, his tongue hot and hard in my mouth. My fingers curl around hair, as he deepens the kiss. His hand moves from my chin down to the top button of my blouse.

"I want to fuck you seven shades of Sunday, and we can do it in here or in the bedroom. You decide."

Sebestian's eyes blaze, hot and full of promise, his hair dripping water onto us both. My mouth goes dry.

"What's it to be, baby?" he asked as he holds in his lap. "Answer me, Liliana. Here or the bedroom?"

"Here," I whisper frantically.

He smiles slowly, his lips curling into a sensuous smile full of licentious promise.

"Good choice, Liliana," he murmurs against my lips. 

He releases my chin and his hand moves to my knee. It glides smoothly up my leg, lifting my skirt and skating over my skin, making me tingle. His lips trail soft kisses from the base of my ear along my jaw.

"Oh, what shall I do to you?" he whispers. His fingers halt at my stocking tops. "I like these," he says. 

He runs a finger underneath the top and skims it around to my inner thigh. I gasp and squirm once more in his lap. He groans, low in his throat. "If I'm going to fuck you seven shades of Sunday, I want you to keep still."

"Make me," I challenge, my voice soft and breathy.

Sebastian inhales sharply. He narrows his eyes and regards me with a hot, hooded expression.

"Oh, baby. You have only to ask." His hand moves from my stocking tops up to my panties. "Let's divest you of these." He tugs gently and I shift to help him. 

His breath hisses through his teeth as I do. "Keep still," he grumbles.

"I'm helping," I pout, and he seizes my lower lip gently between his teeth.

"Still," he growls. He slides my panties down my legs and off. 

Tugging my skirt up so that it's bunched around my hips, he moves both hands to my waist and lifts me. He still has my panties in his hand.

"Sit. Astride me," he orders staring intently into my eyes. 

I shift, straddling him, and regard him provocatively.

"Liliana," he warns "Are you goading me?" He gazes at me, amused but aroused. It's a seductive combination.

"Yes. What are you going to do about it?"

His eyes light up with salacious delight at my challenge, and I feel his arousal beneath me. "Clasp your hands together behind your back."

Oh! I comply obediently and, he deftly binds my wrists together with my panties.

"My panties? Sebestian, you have no shame," I admonish.

"Not where you're concerned, Liliana, but you know that." His look is intense and hot. 

Putting his hands around my waist, he shifts me so I am sitting a little further back on his lap. Water still drips down his neck and over his chest. I want to bend forward and lick the drips off, but it's trickier now that I am restrained. Sebestian caresses both of my thighs and skims his hands down to my knees.

Gently he pushes them further apart and widens his own legs, holding me in that position. His fingers move to the buttons of my blouse.

"I don't think we need this," he says. 

He starts methodically undoing each button on my clinging blouse, his eyes never leaving mine. They get darker and darker as he finishes the task, taking his own sweet time about it. My pulse quickens and my breathing shallows. I can't believe it- his thumb skimming across my bottom lip. Suddenly, he thrusts his thumb into my mouth.

"Suck," he orders in a whisper, stressing the S. 

I close my mouth around him and do exactly that. Oh . . . I like this game. He tastes good. What else would I like to suck? The muscles in my belly clench at the thought. His lips part when I scrape my teeth and bite the soft pad of his thumb.

He groans and slowly extracts his wet thumb from my mouth and trails it down my chin, down my throat, over my sternum. He hooks it into the cup of my bra and yanks the cup down, freeing my breast.

Sebestian's gaze never leaves mine. He's watching each reaction that his touch elicits from me, and I'm watching him. 

It's hot. Consuming. Possessive. I love it. He mirrors his actions with his other hand so both my breasts are free and, cupping them gently, he skims each thumb over a nipple, circling slowly, teasing and taunting each one so that they harden and distend beneath his skillful touch. I try, I really try not to move, but my nipples are hotwired to my groin, so I moan and throw my head back, closing my eyes and surrendering to the sweet, sweet torture.