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suugarbabe · 8 months

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foolish flowers | g.w x reader

word count: ~1.5k

summary: little georgie blurb based on an ask I recieved and lost.

warning: fluff

The dinging above the door alerted you that a customer had walked into the shop. You did your best to sound polite as you shouted from the back, “I’ll be right up.” Whoever had walked in told you to take your time, but you still found yourself rushing a bit as to not appear rude.

You walked from the back with a bushel of Aster flowers in your arms, completely obstructing your view. You feel yourself nearly tripping over a pot as you’re making your way to your work station, quietly cursing to yourself. “Here, let me help you with those,” two large hands grab the bushel from you, placing it on the counter.

You smoothed out your apron before looking up and meeting quite possibly the softest and kindest green eyes you’ve ever seen, “T-thank you.” The man in front of you just smiled, giving a nod before going back to look at the flowers and arrangements you had around your small shop.

His brows furrowed reading the different cards associated with certain displays. You found yourself watching him, observing him as he looked around. He was incredibly tall, having to nearly bend in half to read anything on the counter.

You couldn’t help but find his looks of confusion endearing. You decided it was probably best to offer your assistance, for as much as it seemed like he wanted to appear like he knew what he was looking for, he was completely lost. “Looking for something for your girlfriend?” you kept your tone innocent, but you’d be lying if you said there wasn’t motive behind the question beyond being helpful to a customer.

“Erm, no, for my mum actually,” a blush crept up the man’s neck, dusting his cheeks along with it and accentuating his freckles. “Well then might I suggest not getting these,” you gestured towards the red salvia’s, “as they typically symbolize meaning ‘forever mine’, not quite sure that’s best for mum.”

You gave him your sweetest smile and he returned a nervous one, scratching the back of his neck, “What, erm, do you suggest then? It’s her birthday tomorrow, my mum, that is, I just wanted to get her something nice.”

You tapped your finger against your lips as you thought, glancing around the shop to create a beautiful and meaningful piece in your head. “How about…” you trailed off walking up to the marigolds and grabbing a handful, “and a little of…” you grabbed a small batch of chamomile, “oh and definitely…” you grabbed some fully bloomed clematis, “and lastly…” you grabbed some columbine.

The man watched and you arranged it all in a beautiful glass vase, the purples, whites and yellows dancing together perfectly. He couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face as he watched you work. “Stunning,” he breathed, “What does it all mean?”

You clapped your hands together in excitement, explaining pieces was one of your favorite parts of your job. “So, the marigolds here,” you pointed to the flame colored flower, “are her birth month flower and these here,” you pointed to the chamomile, “mean patience in adversity. I assumed because she was a boy mum that she probably dealt with a lot while you grew up,” you shot him a playful wink.

He laughed lightly at this, “You have no idea.” You continued, pointing next at the clematis, “These mean mental beauty, which is simply true for any mother, and these here,” you pointed at the white flower surrounded by what looked like a purple shell and leaves, “are columbine flowers, they represent foolishness.”

The man quirked an eyebrow at this one, “And why, pray tell, did you pick these?” You bit your lower lip slightly, “Well, you look awfully close to the moving character atop the joke shop across the street, so I just assumed you probably own it. Thus the additive of some foolishness representation.”

He smirked at your explanation, leading you to believe that you were correct in your assumption, “Would you believe me if I told you I was born on April fools?” You giggled lightly, “I would expect nothing less coming from the man who owns a joke shop. What is it called again?”

The man smiled proudly now, “Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.” You looked at him curiously, “So is that your name? Weasley?”

He nodded, “Surname. My first name, however, is George.”

“Well it’s very nice to meet you, George.” You smiled sweetly, then turned to your register, “That’ll be ten galleons.” His smile never faltered as he dug into his pocket, pulling out the coins needed.

He grabbed the vase, walking towards the door. As he was halfway out, he turned back to you, “I just realized that I told you my name, but you never told me yours.” You shrugged your shoulders, “Guess you’ll have to ask when I stop in your shop next time.”

George raised his eyebrows, liking the bit of mischief you were flirting with, “Alright, guess I’ll see you then, love.” With a wink, he was out the door.

—--------

Fred stood at the top of the steps, watching the smiling faces roam around his shop. He loved the kids faces as they discovered a new way to prank, a new toy to cause chaos, or how he could see the light switch in their eyes when they saw something on the shelves that had them plotting.

He and George would get the same look when they were younger. Godric, they get that same look still to this day, they just try their best to choose the appropriate time and place for their shenanigans.

What his shop did not often get were beautiful women exploring his shop and looking at… “Puking pastilles?” He looked at you curiously, but you hadn’t yet lifted your head from the package.

“Seems like they’d come in handy for the family dinner I’m trying to avoid tonight,” Fred laughed with you and you finally turned to look at him.

“Well, you’re certainly not George are you,” your smile was sweet as Fred cocked an eyebrow at you. “And how could you possibly be certain of that, darling?”

You looked up at the man in front of you, he looked exactly like George, very obviously a twin brother. However if you paid attention enough, there were subtle differences. You didn’t inform George of this last week but you had noticed him before he walked into your shop that day.

There were quite a few times you had spotted him through your front window, leaving or coming to work, always dressed colorfully and having a smile on his face. When he smiled the corners of his eyes wrinkled just a little, his eyes downturned just slightly more than the man in front of you.

But the thing that really gave it away you had noticed just last week, when he was finally close enough for you to really see him properly. Staring into friends eyes you smiled, patting his chest, “George has a beauty mark on his neck, right here.” You pointed towards the spot where George’s mark was on Fred’s neck.

Fred’s smile seemed to grow impossibly wider, “You’re the flower shop girl aren’t you.” He said it more like a statement rather than a question. “Y/n,” you corrected.

The redhead laughed, “Oh Georgie is going to hate that I learned your name before him.” You shook your head, “Is Georgie here?”

Fred nodded, “Yeah, boyo’s here alright, but I’m really relishing in me getting to learn more information about the girl he’s been pining after before he does.”

He was hoping to embarrass his twin a little, so what you said next instead had Fred a bit shocked. “Well I’m glad the feeling has been mutual,” your tone and smirk quite impressed Fred.

When you looked over his shoulder he turned, seeing his twin on the upper level of the shop, “If you’ll excuse me, not George-”

“Fred,” he interrupted. You smiled, “If you’ll excuse me Fred, I’m going to go find George.”

Fred watched as you sauntered up the staircase, George still none the wiser as he helped a few customers out. As you made it to the top you stood behind him and started speaking, his ears perking at the sound of your voice, “Got anything here to get out of a dinner party?”

George turned around, sly smile on his face, “Have you looked into puking pastilles?” You held up the box in your hands, “Ah yes, that’s what the other George suggested.”

The smile on George’s face quickly turned to laughter, “The other George?” You nodded, “You didn’t tell me you had a twin; Fred was it?”

He nodded, leaning a hand on the railing beside him now, “And you still haven’t told me your name. I’ve been referring to you as flower shop girl in my head all week.”

Your grin widened, knowing now (thanks to Fred) that George had probably been referring to you as that for a lot longer than a week, “Y/n. My name’s Y/n.”

“S’beautiful,” George was bold, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Fred watched from a few floors below, mentally patting his brother on the back for pulling out the moves they used to use in school.

#george weasley #george weasley blurb #george weasley fluff #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #weasley twins #harry potter #golden era

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peterspinkrobe · 9 months

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Temptation | Priest!Miguel O’Hara x femreader [part 4]

W/C: 7,1k+ Go read the other chapters

Warnings/Rating: 18+. Religious content. Some Spanish. [smut spoilers ahead lol] ~~~~~~~~~~~ Reader has a vagina. Oral (f receiving). Some overstimulation. That’s all, babe.

A/N: so so so sorry it took so long. Thank you for your patience. I got real wrapped up in the chapter and work has been working me. Looking up flower symbolism and shit. Also, turns out the Bible has smut too. The scripture quoted throughout is from Song of Songs 4-7. Let me know what you think. Pic is something I found on Google (shame)

The chill of the evening air reminded the two who stepped into it that August was bleeding into September. Change was in the wind that carried hues of summer - fluttering down from trees that were shedding their warm colors for leaves of yellow, red, and orange gradients. The sun set earlier day by day as autumn approached the little town hidden in the Catskills mountain belt.

As the sun buried itself deeper into the horizon, it cast an expanse of purples and blues on the clouds above the two making their way into the courtyard behind the church. The pair stole away, silently sneaking out a side door, while the others enjoyed their supper inside. They were accompanied only by the statues of winged angels frozen in time - pouring bowls of abundance into the garden.

Wildflowers burst from patches along the walkways as the tall man guides the follower to a bench situated beside a maple tree. He ducked to avoid the overhead branches as he sat down and invited the other to join him there.

Wild Asters sprouted on either side of the bench in large clusters, long stems shooting up petals of white and red. The one still standing admires the stark contrast between the backdrop of the natural world and the seated one’s black clothes and collared neck. No words have been exchanged since they stepped into the open air but the silent invitation of the large hand patting the open space made the other feel tingles, nonetheless.

The black clad man kept his hands in his lap and shot sideways glances at the one beside him. Their nerves caused them to bounce their knees rapidly. The silence and their nervousness was too much for the man to bear. He wanted to calm them down and reassure them that all was well. He placed his large hand on the other’s knee, halting the bobbing leg. The sudden touch caused them to look up at him into the stormy dark eyes that showed nothing but concern and curiosity. He spoke their name and the song brought them back to Earth.

__________________________________________

“Your confession last-” the deacon began, but was interrupted by your nervous apology.

“I’m so sorry that you had to hear all that. I am so embarrassed and I understand if you think I shouldn’t come here anymore. The last thing I want to do is get you in trouble or-.” This time you are interrupted by that large hand squeezing your leg gently. You look down and see the long-sleeved black dress shirt rolled up to his forearm, the muscle there too tight for it to roll up any further. The veins in his arms protrude and you trace one with your eyes that trails up his arm to the back on his hand. His palm envelopes your kneecap and the long fingers create a cage around the joint. You swallow your words and silently curse the clothes separating skin.

“Please… let me finish.” He brought his other hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sounded strained, as if he had to get the words out or he would burst. Like the things he had to say were compacted in his skull and caused pressure to build between his eyes. You fell silent again and your eyes darted between the scrunched lids of his eyes.

“Ever since your confession I have been wanting to speak with you. I tried calling after you that day but I know I must have scared you.” Fear wasn’t the primary motive for hauling ass out that church as much as it was shame, but you didn’t want to interrupt him. “And then you weren’t here on Sunday… I realize after your confession that you’re only really here for your mother, but I so wished you were here that day so we could talk face to face.” He continued slightly solemnly.

“I hated that we didn’t get to speak on your struggles further and we weren’t able to close the confession as you deserved. You need to know that I hold no judgment towards you - that session was between you and Him. Everyone's path is different and faith isn’t cookie cutter.” He was so impassioned that when his eyes finally met yours again they lit up with excitement in his explanation.

“I owed a fellow man of the church a favor and I took over his confession shift that day last week. The fact that you came to confession that day… on that day of all days. To you all that may seem serendipitous or coincidental, that you felt that strange urge to release those doubts on the day that I was in the booth, but we in the business like to call that ‘God’s Timing’.” The worry and stress seem to melt away as he talks about your interaction in the booth, very different from the reaction you were expecting. His eyes brighten when you, him, and God are being mentioned in the same breath. He becomes more animated and gestures to the expanse of nature around the two of you.”You were meant to go there that day and say those words, I was meant to be there to hear them, as we are meant to be here now in this garden.”

His chest rises and falls from the excitement he feels. He was certain that this is what is felt to be overcome with the Spirit as he had seen in other churches. For the words to fall out without filters and not hold back the faith. When he lowers his eyes to yours again there is a soft smile in them that matches the one slightly stretching his lips.

“I don’t care if you don’t believe in what I preach,” He says this suddenly and his smile slowly fades into something more serious. “It doesn’t bother me that we don’t share the same faith in Christ.”

Heavy pause follows the revelation and you dare not interrupt him, giving him the time to express himself as he did for you in the booth. The setting sun shines rays into his eyes and they reflect back deep amber irises. Their brilliance bounces across your face like he is studying every inch of it - as if your countenance were a difficult passage in Numbers to interpret.

When he speaks again, you find that you aren't as drunk in the music of his voice. The notes are grounding and almost meditative.

“But what worries me is that you don’t share the same faith in yourself that I do. That you don’t see yourself as worthy of blessings when you are a blessing yourself.” The light chill in the air can’t keep the heat from creeping up your chest and neck. His tone became lighter as he went on.

“You are more than deserving of good things. I know our internal thoughts make us feel otherwise, but I need you to know that what they say to you isn't the truth. We all have personal demons that make us question ourselves.” He tilts his upper half more towards you and his large shoulders jut against the backdrop of maple branches and stirring leaves.

Slowly, so slowly, he slides his hand centimeters up your leg so it’s resting more on your thigh.

“I must also confess that I…” He inhales sharply and releases the words with his exhale, “I’m fighting against every urge in my body to maintain myself when I’m around you.” His brows furrow lightly as his other hand comes to cup your chin again, like he had that first time you’d met. The voice is now the smoky room of a jazz club reverberating lowly in the small distance between the two of you.

“Trying to uphold the principles that have nearly been beaten into me when you are in the same room,” he starts to lean in, “you don’t even have to be in the room, mí vicio, for temptation to threaten the sanctity of my profession.”

He tenses ever so slightly, you feel and hear the hesitation in his touch and voice.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, or abuse my position..” he starts to pull his hands away, but you quickly grab his hand on your leg and grip his wrist to hold him there. His eyes widen at your response and his mouth hangs open slightly. A pointed canine dipping into his plump bottom lip as you move his hand to cup your cheek.

He brings his face to yours and looks into your eyes again before his stubborn raising escapes his lips, attempting to put his faith before pleasure, “Tell me to stop… tell me we can’t do this.” He presses his lips together and turns his head away a little. The anguish in the words makes you think he might crumble from the war in his mind.

You respond by closing the rest of the gap and pressing your lips onto his cheek. There is an evening shadow of hairs that poke into the soft kiss. He brings his eyes forward to lock back with yours and your noses bump together. Your breathing mixes and his shoulders rise and fall heavily and it seems as if he’s bracing himself with the grip on your leg. The temptation of just being close to you causes his lips to tremble.

“I don’t think you’ll burn in hell if we kiss,” you try to lighten his tension some and he does chuckle as you feel the shaky breathing on your cheeks.

“Funny.” He quips, but he doesn’t say aloud that he’s already burning. His insides are on fire at the feeling of you in his hands. He knows his soul is doomed if fantasy is enough to condemn. He’d burn for the images he’s pictured of you, the positions his imagination puts you in, and for the way his body is reacting to your permissive responses now. The fact that you want this as much as him makes holding back more difficult.

The anticipation that hung from your pout was too much for him and he whispered to himself before pulling your chin up and kissing you.

Just a press of lips against lips. They brushed against each other as your noses moved to accommodate for the space removed. That first kiss was brief, an innocent expression of the brewing affection between you. Yet, it was laden with complex emotions. A small jolt of electricity sparks from Miguel's chest at the kiss and his heartbeat echoed like a drum in his chest.

He was taken aback at how the simple, sweet kiss had made his head spin and when your lips parted he saw your eyes reflecting desire in their haze. Your eyes closed again and allowed your lips to guide the way.

The two of you traded little pecks and pleasure courses through his body. His hand from your knee now held your right hip and the cupped palm now snaked behind your neck and held your head to his as he deepened the kiss. It was harder to hold back as the deacon’s lust, his want, his desire, was too strong. He peaked down through slitted lids at your hands holding the chest of his shirt in fists and grunted against your closed mouths.

Unadulterated passion overwhelmed him and he poked the tip of his tongue to your lips in request. In those cold showers he had taken to try and control his thoughts, he had instead sinfully prayed to feel the inside of your mouth with his tongue, his fingers, and his currently tented dick. Your receptiveness made him nearly whine when you opened your lips in invitation. The buzz in his brain made him lose his inhibitions as he greedily licked into your mouth. He explored your slick cheeks and your tongues clashed together in their first meeting.

As your tongues danced between your mouths, you found that you were the one having to pull away for breath. Father Miguel’s face had reddened from lack of oxygen since he was prioritizing kissing you inside of breathing. His eyes would open halfway, his eyebrows would knit together in a pleading manner, and his pursed lips were swollen when you pulled away. Strands of his dark hair dangled into his forehead. The desperation on his face and in his grip on you was certainly a sight to behold. It was alluring that he was so affected just by kissing, you imagined just how sensitive he must be. It would be a lie to say you weren’t also feeling warmth pool in your belly at the exchange of kisses. You held his face in your hands and your bodies pressed against each other when he wrapped his arms around you. His voice dripped with yearning as he spoke:

“Let me show you how worthy you are…”

The words were a whisper in the wind, a secret kept by the rustling leaves, but they held a vow he intended to uphold.

_______________________________________

Getting away from your mother was surprisingly easy. She was wiped from cooking and everyone was shooing her home, telling her they would handle the clean up. The only real clean up was from the dishes they had dirtied as she had done most of the kitchen keep up as she cooked.

You should’ve been tired too but your mind still whirred from the excitement earlier. The promise of another rendezvous had you eager to volunteer in the clean up. Your mother looked at you again with pride when you told her to go on ahead and that you’d meet her home later after finishing here. If only she knew your true intentions.

Getting Father Miguel away from his parish was another story. You were washing your hands in the kitchen sink as the last of the trash was being taken out. Discretion was attempted as you stole glances at him helping others with their things and wishing them a blessed evening. At one point he catches your eye and his conviction nearly crumbles, but to you he maintains his composure. He gives you the aforementioned signal of a nod and shaky smile and you dry your hands before excusing yourself from one of the church members on your street. You make it seem as though you’re leaving for the night, but head towards the opposite end of the hall when the dining room door closes behind you.

You try to keep your nerves together as you enter the room on the far left end. You try not to think about Father Steen’s name on the door. You try not to hear the innocent farewells and blessings from the other side of the church. You try to look away from the surrounding symbols of sacrifice for sins you were actively committing. You try to calm yourself and your racing mind as you settle in the chair opposite to the one at the desk.

Curiosity temporarily overtakes your other worries when you crane your neck to see the pages that are open on the desk in front of you. It’s obvious what book it is but it’s hard to tell what chapter given it’s upside down, eleven size font, and single-spaced.

You don’t notice the noise completely dying down in the other room as you scan the office. You’ve never actually been in this office so you don’t know what belongs to Father Steen or the deacon. You do recognize the Catholic vestments that were worn by the elder but there was one you hadn’t seen that was separated from the others.

You could tell as you approached that it was much more fancy than the humble ones worn by either of the church heads. Its red satin underside was soft and silky against your inquisitive, yet careful, fingertips. The emerald green top portion was trimmed and detailed in intricate golden lacework. Embroidered red and white flowers weaved with golden stems and darker woven patterns accentuated the colors even further. It was sturdy and seemed handmade as you held the matching stole that hung from the hook beside it.

A knock on the door brought you back to reality and you murmured a ‘come in’. Funny how he was knocking to come into his own office.

He opened the door and walked through the threshold - the top of his head not even an inch away from the frame of the door. He saw you standing by the robes and smiled. He approached you and looked at the robe with you, feeling the fabric himself.

“This chasuble is a Spanish cut. It came from the priest that ran an orphanage in the city and it was a gift to me when he passed.” There’s reverence in his voice as he explains the importance of the robe, and the true weight of the words doesn’t go unnoticed to you. There’s still so much you didn’t know about him.

“Obviously it’s way too fancy for regular service but I always carry it with me. Bring it out for weddings and Easter. Best part? It’s got pockets.” You share a laugh as he wiggles his fingers in a hidden pouch along the inner lining on the front of the robe. He wiggles his eyebrows as well making you laugh more. The sound of it makes him beam at you and you can’t help but feel whiplash from the range of expression he’s given in such a short time.

From a near blubbering mess just from your lips, to this coy attitude now after congregating with his congregation. That tingle returns to your gut at his confident smile and you think of what was going through his mind when you left to come into the office. Did he watch you leave as he shook hands and embraced his newfound flock? Did he feel any impatience with the others who hung on his words? Did he have a change of heart and is attempting to let you down gently? You understood that this was a big No-No in his vocation… maybe post-kiss clarity and being surrounded by the ones trusting his judgment was making him have second thoughts.

Your doubts cause you to speak up, unfortunately spoiling the upbeat mode but you had to make your concerns known.

“I don’t want to make you do something you’ll regret.” His smile fades at the comment as you continue, “you could lose your job.”

He turns towards you from the garments you were admiring.

“Think of the consequences…” you stamper as listens to you, “you could lose the influence and respect you have amongst your fellow brothers in preisthood.” You brace yourself on the chair behind you as you slowly back up past it. He follows you closely.

“Breaking your vows would be a sacrilege.” Your back hits the desk but the deacon still approaches you. “You could be cast out.”

His hands are on your hips and face and your breathing quickens as he leans in, his voice a husky whisper, “For a nonbeliever, you’ve really done your research.”

You know his cocky demeanor is only temporary; when you start kissing again he’ll be back to incoherence. It doesn’t stop you from blushing up at his towering frame.

“Are you sure you want this? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable…” he says and starts to pull away as he had before, so careful not to overstep. Again you put your hands on his chest and it takes everything in you not to squeeze the muscular pecs stretching the front of his shirt.

“I want this. So badly. What I don’t want is you feeling guilty. I know what I want but I also know what is right. I don’t want to be the cause of any turmoil or strain in your spirituality. I’ve caused too much wrong to be the reason you break sacred vows important to you.” You both cling to each other against the desk.

“How could I regret this?” He asks so quietly it’s like he’s asking himself, or silently asking God. “Are matters of the heart to be ashamed of?” The storm in his eyes brewed at the idea of even having to explain himself and his feelings to someone above him in the church. For a man who has never been married, never seen God in the loving embrace of another, to try and tell him what love couldn’t be. How could he be expected to turn away from the act of God placed before him now? How do those in the church not see that to love Him, to truly flourish in His image, is to cherish and admire His other creatures? He scans your face and the hand there moves to gently hold your hands on his chest. How badly he wished to banish any doubt clouding your mind.

“I don’t know how else to explain it other than I have developed a deep connection and affection with you and I wish to learn more, so much more.” His breathing is slightly ragged and you feel the rise and fall under your hands. “Your confession, if you still feel the same, makes it nearly impossible for me to deny this anymore.”

“I cannot deny my feelings and continue to serve the church in a capacity that forbids me from you.” You’re speechless at the words and the abrupt honesty. “I’m making these decisions with my eyes wide open.”

“Deacon, I-“ you begin, but he cuts in to say,

“Please, call me Miguel. Not sure how much longer I’ll be a Deacon after this gets out…” He can’t hold back now that you’re alone so he kisses you because he can. Because there is nothing to hold him back from doing so, and your lips feel so good pressed to his. Hearing you say his name causes a low groan to come from his throat and he parts when you frantically protest against his lips.

“What do you mean? No, no one can know! Not yet… oh my god what would my mom think?! She’d believe I corrupted you, and I have, haven’t I?” Your nervousness and the fact that you were more afraid of the judgment from your mother than that of God Almighty made him chuckle again as he nuzzled into your neck and laid kisses up to your ear.

“Corruption and change are not the same. You have brought about a change in me. While I no longer feel I am the same man I once was before meeting you, I am happy for it.” He moves a hand slowly up your back to cradle your head and he feels like King Solomon taking his Queen to bed in Song of Songs as he kisses your neck.

Your neck is like the tower of David,

built with courses of stone;

on it hang a thousand shields,

all of them shields of warriors.

“Please,” He whispers into your ear and takes the lobe between his lips in a tease, “let me reveal my devotion to you.”

Your only response is your fingers entwining in his hair and a gasp, but it’s enough for him to capture your lips again. This time he wastes no time easing your mouth open with his tongue.

Your lips drop sweetness

as the honeycomb,

milk and honey are under your tongue.

He hasn’t had a woman in his arms like this is such a long time. Excitement overcomes him and his hands aren’t sure where to rest on your body. He wants to learn you only by touch. Allowing himself to be led blindly by faith in your embrace. He cups your breasts over your shirt and moans open mouthed into the kiss. You mewl at the abandonment of restraints you both had been holding yourselves back with. You’re not too lost to the feeling of his hands sliding back down and under your shirt. He traces your spine up and down and grabs at newfound flesh.

“You’re skin… tan suave.” He’s breathless again from the frenzy of kisses and touches he’s covering you in. He nearly loses it wondering how soft the rest of you was. The thought brings his fingers to your bra and he undoes the clasp there. He pulls away to see them fall slightly and his teeth dig into his bottom lip and he nearly growls before pulling your shirt up to reveal the loosened bra still veiling your breasts. His eyes are hungry, but he still asks, “May I?”

You’re frustrated at how long this is taking. Usually this sort of thing is a quick ordeal without all this checking in. You take a deep breath and remind yourself who you’re dealing with. You reassure him with a curt, “No more asking.”

Something snaps in his brain and he’s pulling your bra off and quickly replacing the cups with his own hands. He massages them both, lifting them lightly to feel their weight and admiring how your nipples react to the exposure to air and his fingers. The theories of intelligent, immaculate design are confirmed to him as he gazes at them and appreciates them.

At first, you’re on edge about the intensity in his eyes as he looks over you. Then you realize that you don’t know the last time he’s been with someone and that you just aren’t used to time being taken on you. You attempt to regulate your breathing and relax but when he gently tweaks the buds of your breasts between his large fingers your back arches.

He nearly drools at the sight of your body’s reaction and brings the hardened nipple into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the tip and caught it in a suckle. You moan and the last thing he sees before your shirt drops over his head is you tossing your head back. He grins devilishly and grazes his teeth over the sensitive nub before moving to give the other some attention. He doesn’t leave it unattended for long when his fingers run his remaining spit over the delicate pucker.

You pull your shirt up and off, discard it somewhere in the room. You couldn’t go any longer without the enticing image of his face in your chest. His lips parted briefly from your right tit so he could mumble, “Dios, me encantan tus tetas…”

The praise and slightly blasphemy of the Lord’s name used in marvel of your body made your head spin. His free hand gripped your hip, then the flesh of your back, ghosting over your soft belly. His fingertips then slip into the hem of your pants and trail fire in their wake. You buck your hips involuntarily and ignore the dig of the desk in your back side.

He pulls away to see your face and the feedback your body gives him. He accepts it eagerly and continues to tease and pull at your pantyline while pinching and pulling at your nipples.

“Please, Miguel-,” The breathlessness in your voice and the flush of your face makes his already hard dick twitch in the restriction of his pants. His name in that sweet, needy tone made him moan out a ‘yeah?’

“I need you.” Your eyes are glazed from the pleasures he’s bestowing upon you. A sheen of sweat shines on your bare chest from the heat of the moment. Your body is on fire and this is only second base. The sensitivity levels of you both were turned up high, but maybe the taboo of it all was causing such an intense reaction. Or maybe you were feeling the same fervent connection he revealed to feel for you. The same string pulling you to one another.

Any resemblance of control fell away from him completely at your pleading pout. His lips crashed down onto yours again and an image of you he’d had in his mind many times flashed and he knew what you needed.

His hand swiftly unbuttons your jeans and the sound of the zipper is in slow motion as he inhales your breathy moans and pleas. His hands move to either side of you and he peels the denim off your burning skin.

He pulls away from you and looks in your eyes as he begins to lower himself. He kisses every inch of newly revealed skin. You’re suddenly feeling slightly self-conscious because you haven’t had a need to do any sort of landscaping for a while. This hadn’t exactly been planned. You look down at your nearly naked body and blush at how he is still completely clothed. You see the dance of his curls as he pulls the jeans off your feet. Then he’s on his knees.

This man of God, in his uniform of black with the white collar slightly askew, knelt before you as if you were an altar to pray to. His hands roamed from your ankles up to your thighs and then down your backside. He squeezes the flesh all over and they never truly settle in one place. He’s intent on learning each curve and dedicating every mole to memory. He catches your eyes and is emboldened by the lust in them so he leans up to press kisses along your abdomen. He murmurs against your tummy at how beautiful you are and how you can stop him at any time. Then, his fingers are hooked around the sides of your panties and he begins to slide them down.

He can’t help but take his time. There were a couple reasons. The first was this was simply too amazing to rush. He’d been in situations like this, and knowing what was coming next excited him. Pulling you out your jeans and spreading your legs brought wafts of your scent into his nose. The aroma was robust and earthy and it drew him in as your panties came down. It had been so long… the smell of your heat made him nearly light-headed but he inhaled deeply. He couldn’t get enough. He had to taste you.

Your panties were still around your knees when he buried his face into your pubic hair and took a deep breath in. You nearly buckled in embarrassment but his arms wrapped around your legs to bring you to his face even more so. He hugged your crotch for a moment and the smells went straight to his cock. It’d been so long since he’d been presented with such a pretty pussy and he had to appreciate the moment.

He pulls you out your panties the rest of the way and pushes you back against the desk. The back of his hand presses to your inner leg and you oblige him by spreading them both for him to get a better look. He sighs as he sits back on his heels and admires the image that has been in his mind for the last couple weeks. The offering of your own communion already glistening from the heavy petting and kissing is more captivating than his imagination could ever be. He paws at the hardness in his jeans and takes a mental image for later.

Motivated by the hunger in his eyes and the way his eyes move in the need to see it all, you start to lose the voice in your head that makes you worry about your body. You bring your hand down and spread your lips a little for him, a little moan escaping you. He nods as if being given instruction and wordlessly brings his mouth to you.

You cry out his name from the touch of his lips to your sensitive flesh. He’s simply kissing the parts you presented to him so graciously. You lean back and brace yourself more on the desk as his hands come up to massage your inner thighs. He moves lower and looks up at you before dragging his tongue slowly up from your seeping pussy to your clit. Your hips buck again and he grins deviously.

The grin and his lewd teasing showed a transformation in the man, as if this part of him laid dormant just beneath the surface of sacredness. His eyes seemed to shift to an alarming red in the lighting. His fingers dug into you like claws. His teeth seemed more pointed when he flashed those wicked grins up at you. He was the one on his knees, but he was the dominant force.

He brought his hands to his new heaven and spread the pearly gates with his thumbs. He blew gently on the exposed, heated skin and you whined from the lack of friction.

Blow on my garden,

that its fragrance may spread everywhere.

Let my beloved come into his garden

and taste its choice fruits.

The stretch of your legs and the wetness that shone between them looked so inviting. He massaged his thumbs up and down, rubbing your lips together and then apart again. His mouth watered at the sight and he licked his lips.

“You’re so wet for me…” he breathed the words before plunging into your waters. The tension, teasing, and time carefully taken on you had driven you crazy but the satisfaction of his tongue on your clit drove you mad. You arched your back and placed your hands on his broad shoulders, the pleasure bringing you to smile and moan in delirium. No longer were you worried about his job, the way you looked, or if he was interested in you as much as you were into him. He was definitely proving that now as he at you out like his last supper.

You surmised that he had to have had some kind of experience with this as you gawk at the expert movements of his tongue. At first, he prodded with the relaxed muscle to test the waters. Now, he was buried into you up to his nose. His tongue would flatten when he wanted a wider range of flavor and you’d feel the large pad lapping you up. Then he would tighten it and drag circles around your clit, sometimes licking into your tightness as if he were starved. He took note of how your body twitched when he pushed his tongue inside you to taste the velvety smoothness of your tight walls. He saw how you jerked with too much stimulation on your delicate bud. He groaned at the sight of your body moving above him, the way your hair hung in your face. The vibration of his convulsing tongue inside you as he groans makes you toss your head back and chant Miguel, Miguel,…

Fueled by the mantra of his name, Miguel goes back to swirling around your clit. He decided his tongue isn’t long enough to feel as deep inside you as he’d like and pushes his middle finger into you halfway. The promise of penetration causes you to grind on the finger and consequently onto his face as well.

He’s sometimes closing his eyes as if he’s in prayer while consuming communion. But the buck of your hips and your weight shifting down on him made his eyes snap open so he could watch your immodesty through lustful eyes. He pulled as you pushed, maintaining the single digit only halfway. He wanted to take his time feeling you and becoming acquainted with what you had so graciously offered to him. When he pulls away from you to speak, the sight of his puffy lips and chin shining with your wetness nearly makes you fall forward.

“Be patient, please,” his voice drips with desperation, “it’s been so long.”

You let out a low whimper but complain no further when he wraps his lips around your clit again and starts moving his finger inside you deeper, finally. You arch your back and your fingers entangle in his hair.

Your light pulling on his hair pulls another moan out of him and he can’t help but rub the underside of himself as he pleasures you. Your wet noises make him want to bathe in your scent and sleek walls. Your moans make his cock twitch in his tightening pants. He flattens his tongue on your swollen clit and languidly licks around and at it directly. He greedily adds another finger so he can gauge just how tight your opening is, but has to ease it in slowly as you cry out.

“Ooh, so tight.. so wet..” He murmurs against your slick as he wiggles the two fingers inside you. “Todo para mí?” This could easily be interpreted as coy, but the tone is earnest. He truly feels blessed with the gifts you’ve so graciously given. He flicks the tip of his cock over the pants as he sweeps his fingers to graze a particularly delicate spot inside you. As soon as his fingers touch that bumpy groove you see stars in your vision. The direct stimulation to your most sensitive space and this new sensation was nearly overwhelming.

“Miguel, ‘s too much.” You pant and attempt to push him off for some reprieve.

He lifts his head with worry in his eyes. His fingers straighten and pump inside you at a grudgingly slow pace. The slightly sweaty strands of hair stick to your thighs as he gently rests his head on it. Leaning on his devotion.

“I just want to make you feel good.” His eyes trail back to watch the way your pussy clings to his fingers when he pulls them out slowly. He seems entranced with the way you stick to his fingers even when they aren’t inside you. You look down to watch the lewd scene and see just how hard his cock is and how he’s got a grip on it through the clothes he’s still fucking wearing. “As good as you make me feel.”

You melt at the words and when his thumb comes up to press around your glistening pearl. He slid it across the top, just above the screaming bud, as if flipping through the thin pages of the Good Book. He ghosted over the area you found tried and true when you were doing this alone and your body, your voice let him know.

He slides his fingers back inside, unable to hold back any longer. His pace is shaky at first, but becomes stable again.

“Mmm, is that good for you?” He begins rubbing small circles in the spot you so beautifully inclined him towards. You nod and moan in response and then he asks you something that nearly knocks you off the table:

“Will you please cum for me?” He asks between heavy breaths that feel warm on your slit. He wondered how you looked, felt, smelled, sounded, and moved when you orgasmed. When he first placed that wafer in your mouth he wanted to be the reason that it happened. He wanted his name to be the one you called out. “Fuck, I need you to…” the curse and the words from the holy man made your insides twist and burn. The steady driving into your core and thumb on that sweet spot causes you to close your eyes and roll your hips with the rhythm.

He says your name and your eyes snap open again.

“Look at me.”

The way his large body slumps between your legs and the background of Catholicism surrounding the two of you hits a dirty switch in your brain and you’re nearing the edge. He can tell by the tightening of the muscles in your thighs and the way they nearly straighten out to give yourself more purchase.

“Just like that. You’re so close aren’t you, tell me.” You cry out a yes!! through your gaped mouth.

“Cum f’me, please. Cum for me just like this. Just for me.”

The words, the perfect pace of his fingers, the way he’s looking up at you… you reach your climax and fight to keep your eyes open as he asked.

Through your lashes you see that he’s grinning up at you. Your slick still on his mouth and stringing between his lips. The type of grin that shouldn’t be on a priest’s face. That’s two things that shouldn’t be on his face now as he licks around his pumping fingers to devour the flow of juices he’s poured out of you.

Your thighs clench around his head and your body spasms, he pulls his mouth away to look up at you between the trap of your thighs.

“Yesss, just like that you look so good. Such a good girl.” He mumbles with a mouth full of your slickness.

He moves his thumb off the hood of your pulsing nub to not overstimulate you, but his fingers remain inside you. The way you pulsed and squeezed around him mesmerized him. He matched the pulses to the grip on his length in a futile attempt to simulate the intoxicating spasms brought onto you by just his hands.

He tries to memorize the heartbeat of your warm burrow as it begins to ease on your come down. He’ll try to emulate the sensation later - on himself - but he knows and dreads the fact that it would not compare to the readied womanhood presented to him. He bites his bottom lip and groans.

You notice how he holds himself and you can’t pull your eyes away from the tent he’s holding back in his pants. Your arms, still a little shaky, move down and you grab his face. You pull a little and he obliges and stands again. He snakes his large arms around your naked body and doesn’t seem to care about any mess you might leave on him. You pull his face to yours and kiss him. His puffy lips are warm against yours and when your tongues touch you taste yourself and feel another coil form in your gut. You pull away and tell him, in a raspy voice,

“I need you. All of you. Please?” Encouraged by your orgasm, you reach your hand down to grab the erection that’s been begging for you.

He hissed your name through his teeth at the sensation and grabs your wrist. He was already embarrassingly close to his own orgasm after having watched you and toyed with himself. Your grip on him made his knees nearly buckle.

His protest made you worry and your arm seized in its place. You let go of him and stare up into his eyes to see where you went wrong with him.

“What’s wrong, Miguel?” The concern in your voice makes him bore his eyes into yours.

“Nothing, no, nothings wrong. You did nothing wrong. I do want this, oh God, you don’t know how badly…” It’s almost as if he’s gasping the words. Your touch, it set him on fire. But, he didn’t think he should, or could, have you the way he really wanted. Not now. Not here. “There’s something you should know. It’s not embarrassing for me, but it’s important you know.”

The seriousness in his tone has you scanning his face for any more information. He says your name and then reveals the truth and you’re left speechless. His tone is matter of fact, the words shocking.

“I’m a virgin.”

You are a garden locked up;

you are a spring enclosed,

a sealed fountain.

Taglist: IT WONT LET ME TAG MORE THAN 50 I’m crying I’m so sorry I’ll try commenting tagging the rest

@soniajustneedssimping @venusisajpeg @cassidysbbg @haveclayeveryday @fishtail111 @sirbird @thecrowstears @elizzybeth-2005 @tayleighuh @crispypugfs @trashcansally @cheezit-luv3rr @marsout @eliiilamar @hamuuko @jagawriterr @oharaswifexx @limenysnocket @xthejazzdalorianx @y0mill @livingmeat @stranded-dream @its-oevy @be-be-la-la @jxylxx @usagijoestar @queenofroses22 @zaunsin @ceoofmiguel @otomebois @fairycwhores @killakungfu-wolfbitch @buffalolover10177 @jaywalksalloverme @jalxnnie @deepinballs @vomitsama @aurora-burrow @wlalspj @tieonatrenchcoat @cicato @firstghostempathtaco @yallhearsm @mumbi-222 @carmenxhuuuu @dv-ocean-blog @multi-fandom-chick-blog1 @jellybeansupmyass @cheyjellyfish @elyissly @laikve @coffeejellypng @staycgoindown @variouslyalloya @redflame5975 @botchedlove @thatoneenchilada @buck-uwu @donnie-spectacular

Chapter 5? It might take some time tho…

#fanfic #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #priest!miguel #miguel x reader #priest au #miguel x you #atsv smut #finally!#sorry lol #chapter 4

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thewriteadviceforwriters · 10 months

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Flower & Botanical Based Names for Writers

Acacia [noun] a genus of leguminous trees and shrubs with feathery foliage and showy flowers.

Amaryllis [noun] a genus of bulbous plants with showy flowers, typically red, orange, or white.

Anemone [noun] a genus of plants with brightly colored flowers, typically with feathery petals.

Aster [noun] a genus of plants with daisy-like flowers, typically in shades of blue, purple, or white.

Azalea [noun] a genus of shrubs or small trees with showy flowers, typically in shades of pink, red, or white.

Camellia [noun] a genus of evergreen shrubs or small trees with showy flowers, typically in shades of pink, red, or white.

Chrysanthemum [noun] a genus of plants with daisy-like flowers, typically in shades of yellow, orange, or white.

Daisy [noun] a common garden flower with white petals and a yellow center.

Edelweiss [noun] a small, white alpine flower.

Fern [noun] a plant with feathery leaves, typically growing in moist places.

Freesia [noun] a genus of plants with sweet-scented flowers, typically in shades of yellow, orange, or pink.

Gardenia [noun] a genus of shrubs or small trees with fragrant flowers, typically in shades of white or yellow.

Hyacinth [noun] a genus of bulbous plants with fragrant flowers, typically in shades of blue, purple, or white.

Lily [noun] a genus of plants with showy flowers, typically in shades of white, yellow, or orange.

Magnolia [noun] a genus of trees or shrubs with large, showy flowers, typically in shades of white, pink, or purple.

Orchid [noun] a genus of plants with showy flowers, typically in shades of pink, purple, or white.

Petunia [noun] a genus of plants with showy flowers, typically in shades of purple, pink, or white.

Rose [noun] a genus of plants with showy flowers, typically in shades of red, pink, or white.

Violet [noun] a small, blue or purple flower.

#writing #on writing #writing tips #how to write #writers block #writers and poets #creative writing #writeblr #thewriteadviceforwriters #flowers #roses #tulips #floral #botania #oc names #girl names #stories

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greenwitchcrafts · 8 months

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Chamomile

Matricaria chamomilla (shown) | Chameamelum nobile

Known as: Chamaimelon, earth apple, German chamomile, ground apple, heermannchen chamaimelon, maythen, manzanilla, Roman chamomile, scented mayweed, whig plant & wild chamomile

Related plants: There are two species of chamomile, both are in the Asteraceae family (Roman chamomile & German chamomile) with plants that consists of over 32,000 known species of flowering plants in over 1,900 genera within the order Asterales. They are commonly referred to as the aster, daisy, composite or sunflower family. I am from this point forward referring to Matricaria chamomilla in this post specifically.

Parts used: whole flower & leaves

Habitat & cultivation: This flowering plant is native to South-West Asia, Eastern & Southern Europe but can be found on almost continents nowadays. The wild-growing chamomile species normally grow on sandy to loamy soils that are mostly acidic and should be open.

Plant type: Annual

Region: 5-9

Harvest: Can be harvested as soon as blooms have established which is about 10 weeks.

Growing tips: The roots of chamomile are shallow and just barely grip onto the top soil which makes it more sensitive to water conditions during the initial stages of growth when the plant is establishing itself. However once it's established, it is drought tolerant & need about an inch of water a week. Wait until after the last spring frost to add chamomile to your garden. It grows well in raised beds, containers, and in-ground gardens. Space chamomile plants 8 inches apart in full sun for best flowering. In hot climates, an area with partial afternoon shade is ideal.

Medicinal information: Chamomile has been used as a traditional medicine for thousands of years. A mouth rinse with chamomile might relieve mouth sores caused by cancer treatments. Some research suggests that chamomile could help with other conditions, like diarrhea in children, hemorrhoids, anxiety, and insomnia. When used on the skin, chamomile might help with skin irritation and wound healing. Some research has documented that it may be as effective as hydrocortisone cream for eczema.

Cautions: Most experts say chamomile is safe. It can cause drowsiness and, in large doses, vomiting. It also has the potential to trigger allergic reactions in people who are allergic to related plants in the daisy family, although such reactions are very rare. Given the lack of evidence about its long-term safety, chamomile is not recommended for people who are pregnant or chestfeeding.

Magickal properties

Gender: Masculine

Planet: Sun

Element: Fire

Deities: Cernunnos, Karnaya, Mercury, Oshun, St.Anne & Sun gods

Magical uses:

• Burn as an incense to aid in sleep and meditation

• Plant around your house to ward against psychic or magickal attacks

• Wash your hands with chamomile before gambling to ensure good luck

• Use in an infusion to wash your thresholds to stop unwanted energies from passing through

• Place the flowers in your wallet to attract money

• Keep in a satchet to protect against physical or magickal danger

• Add to a dream pillow with lavender to ensure peaceful sleep

• Anoint a green candle with crushed chamomile for a simple money spell

• Steep in hot water, then sprinkle around yourself as a metaphysical barrier

• Add to spells to increase the chances of success

• Use in ritual baths with catnip and rose to attract a lover

• To alleviate overwhelming emotions, you can hold dry chamomile in your hands as you recite affirmations or prayers to ease the heart

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tshortik · 2 months

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My random comic Recs #1

I've been reading more comics lately, so I wanted to share my love for them in the hopes that someone might give this medium a chance!

Note: I am not a fan of superhero comics, because I simply don't like that genre, so don't expect superheroes below. Gonna make these posts every now and then and they will always include 4 recs. 1.) The Many Deaths of Laila Starr

Death got demoted and sent to earth as a mortal! Some boy is going to figure out how to cheat death in the future, and our girl Death really doesn't appreciate that. The entire graphic novel is only 5 issues long, so it's VERY digestible and easy to get through.There is something so light and playful about the art style, and the vibrant colors really sell it.

For people that are completely new to comics as a medium, I imagine that this is actually an A+ book to start with for the reasons I just mentioned. The way paneling and the flow of time is done in here, is a great example as to why comics are so unique as a medium and why they should be looked at as its own art from, separate from movies or books.

2) Mécanique Céleste (Or "Mechanica Calaestium" in the German translation, or "Aster Of Pan" in the English translation)

An absolutely breathtaking French comic. Aster lives in Pan, a post-apocalyptic France where she scavenges for wreckage with her friend Wallis. After their people come under a threat by the Federation of Fortuna, they are given a choice —submit to Fortuna’s rule or beat them in a weird Hunger Games-esque version of Dodge, called “Celestial Mechanics”.

The detailed art pieces in each panel, the careful line work, the lively way the characters move and the stunning watercolors captivated me from the first page. This graphic novel (now 2 volumes) is one of a kind and truly unique!

3) Something Is Killing the Children

Note: Comic contains a lot of gore and violence!

Children are starting to disappear in Archer's Peak. The ones that come back tell impossible stories that no one seems to believe. Only one stranger trusts these tales - a mysterious girl named Erica Slaughter who seems to be able to see these creatures too. And she's here for business.

I loooove Something is Killing the Children. I haven't finished reading the ongoing volumes yet, but I am super fascinated at how well the pacing goes in this story. The rough art style with Erica's freaky large eyes is SO fun, and you start appreciating it even more the longer you read.

4) Mon Ami Pierrot ("Mein Freund Pierrot" in German, "My friend Pierrot" in English)

Another fabulous French comic! Cléa is to marry soon - a young man name of Berthier. Right before the wedding she meets the fascinating magician Pierrot though, who completely changes the course of her life. Entranced by his whimsical nature that makes her feel "free" for the first time in her life, she follows him and leaves her previous life behind. During her stay with Pierrot, questions arise, though. Who is he really? All the while her betrothed sets out to find her again.

The Ghibli influence both art- and storywise is easy to make out, and I personally really enjoyed that. I particularly love the colors and the facial expressions the characters are drawn with. Everything feels very whimsical and playful and I had a good time going through this chonker of a graphic novel!

No spoilers, but I expected toothrottingly-sweet wholesome stuff, and ended up surprised on several occasions. I think the colours and art style really help give those moments wham, because you don't expect it.

#i talk sometimes #comics #graphic novels #comic recommendations #long post #comics are super duper cool and you should try them!!

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artificial-transmutations · 8 months

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Transformation Letter: Aster

Hello I'm Aster I'm a 26 year old Omega male that's 5'9 and on the heavier side, but I want to do something special for my boyfriend Moris who's a 21 year old Alpha male that's 6'1 and pretty skinny. I want to surprise Moris hoping you can help us get more into our roles as a 5'4 slender Omega and a 6'7 Alpha Daddy. Hope you can help me with this surprise. Oh and for physical description Aster is 5'9 large male with black medium length hair in half ponytail and Moris is 6'1 skinny male with long black hair pulled back into ponytail.

How sweet! You want to deepen your relationship with your sweatheart! Let's see how that goes.

What a pleasant surprise would that be if it really works! Sure, your boyfriend Moris has all the right mindset for being an Alpha, and while the two of you try to act out this fantasy in the bedroom a lot, his skinny build doesn't really fit his behavior.

So, without him knowing, you have sent that letter and hope that whoever is behind this Transformation Letter initiative can improve that aspect of your relationship.

It is your anniversary, some weeks later and you have come to the conclusion that, probably, the whole thing has been a scam. However, as you are preparing dinner for Moris, you suddenly feel a strange sense of vertigo. Looking down on the stove you notice that it seems to be somewhat farther away than before.

What is going on?! Is everything getting smaller or...? No! You are getting taller! But this is wrong! If anything, you wanted to get smaller, as it is fitting for your Omega role.

Still, the growth persists. You are slowly getting taller, centimeter by centimeter. As you look down on yourself, your clothes reveal that this is not the only change by far. Your clean and youthful skin matures before your very eyes, with more and more small black hairs breaking through.

Your somewhat heavy belly, however, seems to shrink away. No, that's not right. It doesn't *shrink* so much as it *redistributes* itself. Some of the fat is becoming muscle, while other layers stay fat but slowly flow from the singular point of your unfit belly all over your body.

You roll your shoulders. Your shirt is quickly getting uncomfortable. Not only is it not long enough to cover your upper body anymore, but it is also not wide enough to have room for your expanding shoulders and chest. With some difficulties, you discard the clothes, only to be amazed by what you find underneath: You are gaining a toned and well-built six-pack and pecs, both covered by a padding of fat and a layer of hair!

It is hard to tell, but you feel like your legs are changing as well. The skin has taken on a slightly darker shade, and your thighs and calves become more muscular.

Meanwhile, a nice coating of black body hair has spread all over your chest, shoulders, and arms. As you feel your face, it has also changed considerably. You are growing a thick, bushy beard that feels surprisingly soft to the touch.

With the changes to your face, it seems like the last thing that is happening to your head is a change in perspective. Why should Moris have all the fun being the Alpha Daddy? You feel new urges erupting in your mind that are hard to suppress: Your libido goes through the roof, and with it, a dominant side in you that you never knew awakes, like a wild animal, unable to be put back to sleep again.

The transformation continues, and suddenly, the front of your jeans explodes, as your cock and balls grow into an impressive piece of manhood. Your underwear doesn't even survive the process and disintegrates, leaving you naked and exposed in your new body.

You quickly get out of your jeans, mainly because it is getting really painful and marvel at the sight of your new cock and balls: It is a big, veiny, and uncut monster that hangs heavily between your legs, and your balls are two round, heavy orbs that are covered in the same dark and coarse hair as the rest of your body.

Finally, you seem to have reached a size that feels appropriate to you and a harness forms over your massive chest, and you begin to realize that the transformation is finished. Your fat cock is half-hard (as it will be more or less constantly from now on) and is dripping with precum. You can't wait for Moris to come home. Even though it isn't what you had in mind, you can hardly wait to dominate his twink ass that he surely has by now.

As if on cue, the apartment door opens. However, instead of Moris as you knew him or Moris as you expected him to be (a small and slender Omega, which is what you originally wanted to become yourself), you see an equally built giant of a man.

The two of you look at each other for a moment. It is not only that this man Moris has become is as big as you. He is also just as hairy, just as mature, and just as muscular. His hair color is just as black dotted with silver as yours. In fact, Moris is now a splitting mirror image of yourself. BOTH of you have become a huge hairy muscle daddy, with the dominant mind to go along with!

The moment is broken and the two of you begin to make out heavily, your fat cocks rubbing together in anticipation. It looks like you are going to need to find some Omega bitch boy to play with!

#TransformationLetter #male transformation #muscle transformation

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celestiaras · 2 months

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Aster 💜💛

- 5.9 inches (6.1 when hard), slim, a bit veiny.

- Squishy balls, soft skin, cum is thick but not as thick as Shoto's.

- Moans loud when about to release.

- Long, Slow thrusts but goes faster when he loses control.

Shoto 💜

- 6.2 inches (6.4 when hard), reasonably girthy, not much veins but there is a prominent one on the underside of his dick which may or may not be sensitive when you give him a mouth exercise.

- Medium to large balls, cum shoots very far, almost liquid like, pink-ish tip.

- Twitches when he's about to bust.

- Short Rapid Thrusts.

Zali 💙

- 6.5 inches (6.7 when hard), will bruise your throat and cervix, not much veins, soft skin, red tip.

- VERY SENSITIVE, balls are squishy but as large as eggs, thick cum almost like glue.

- Quiet when he's close but very vocal in pist-ejaculation.

- Will ram his hips in your mouth and hips, and will only stop when either he or you orgasms.

i'm just going to leave this here because i quite literally just woke up and am brushing my teeth rn, it's a bit too early to be thinking about cock 😭

#📑. sent in works #thirsts.asterarcadia #thirsts.shxtou #thirsts.vezaliusbandage #i'll make the tierlist though...#nijisanji smut #aster Arcadia smut #shxtou smut #vezalius bandage smut #dhc anon

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sixosix · 9 months

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IT WAS ALL BY DESIGN | KAVEH (2)

tags second chance, angst and fluff, time-skips, lovers to exes to lovers again, profanity, happy ending

a/n wc 6K (omfg) kaveh lore spoilers and not rlly canon compliant

previous part

when kaveh is jostled awake, he dreads the pitiful expression of the forest ranger who called for him.

kaveh now stands over people hunched and bent to their knees, picking up what they can clean and batting away the aggravated fungi.

the withering, they said.

there’s nothing left. or, well, what should be his masterpiece is just dust and debris. it was so close to being like what he imagined when he could still dream. it was so close to finishing, why—why did it have to…?

he’s the only one standing over kneeling people, yet he’s never felt so small at the moment. as if he’s back to being a little kid, unsure of what to do with himself as everyone scrambled about in front of him. he hasn’t felt this need to cry since the building blocks he had spent hours stacking meticulously on top of each other all came tumbling down with one wrong swipe.

the withering struck at the same moment kaveh thought that things were going perfectly. he should’ve known—it could never be that easy.

he only snaps out of it when you come to his side, reaching for him. he doesn’t even realize he is quivering until you run your hands through his hair, and he feels like breaking inside because he doesn’t deserve it.

he should’ve known. he should’ve known.

he should’ve listened to dori.

dori is furious with him, which is somehow even worse than seeing his own creation in ruin when it was perfectly fine the day before. dori’s face is twisted in rage, screaming at him to leave this goddamn project. large, extravagant, do whatever you want, dori had said, repeating her words, and this is what happens?

“fuck,” he groans, burying his face in his trembling palms. it’s no different from a child throwing a tantrum.

“kaveh,” you murmur, and he tenses for all the wrong reasons.

you shouldn’t see him like this, so weak and pathetic. he’s humiliated, distraught, and you’re seeing all of it. his face burns in shame, his eyes growing hotter along with it.

“kaveh,” you repeat. kaveh, stubbornly, childishly, doesn’t look up. “i’m feeling tired, can we stay here?”

“...okay.”

neither of you comment on his quaver, and kaveh knows he’s the one trembling in the knees, not you. small mercies like these give kaveh the courage to blindly reach in front of him to feel your hand. you take him, and kaveh’s never felt safer despite everything.

“remember, kaveh, when i told you that mourning flowers reminded me of your eyes?”

confused, kaveh replies slowly, “yes. you gave one to me. i still have it.”

you beam at his response, encouraged to continue. “i learned about another flower, a specialty in mondstadt. windwheel asters. i want to pick one straight from the grass, tuck it behind your ear, and watch it spin around before i get distracted by your eyes again because they have the same shade.”

“we can have someone deliver it,” kaveh mumbles, his shoulders slumping. “so you don’t have to travel all the way there.”

“yeah.” you breathe in deeply, resting your forehead against his. “yeah, i should’ve.”

kaveh hasn’t realized that the rangers and construction crew started filtering out until it was dead silent, enough for kaveh to feel like he could hear the stars speaking to him. enough where your heartbeat is the loudest sound at the moment.

“it’s okay. we can stay here for as long as you need,” you assure him with the kindest smile that he knows shouldn’t be directed at him. “i’m too tired to walk back anyway.”

“i love you,” he whispers, the first time either of you called it what it was. he feels that this is the truest phrase he had ever said, even though he’s not sure you even heard it.

kaveh held you closer to him that night, afraid that the withering would creep in and take you away from him, too.

do the right thing, no matter what it costs you.

kaveh has heard this saying before, over and over again. he first heard it from his father, and kaveh fully believed that he’d do so without hesitation if ever the time came. then from old, wise scholars who told tales of how much they sacrificed to have this much success today. but dreaming about his father brings him back to himself, curled up on a dusty couch, having returned from fontaine to attend his mother’s wedding.

if the cost is his own happiness, is it still worth it? is it still the right thing to do?

he hadn’t seen his mother smile so wide since she wrapped her arms around her new husband. kaveh wonders how she was able to let go so fast, but he finds that he doesn’t blame her because this is what she deems is the right thing to do.

no matter what it costs you.

kaveh awakes with a start in the middle of the night, when crickets are still loud in his ears, and the streets are dead silent as most of everyone has gone to bed. his head is spinning, heart racing, but there’s a fire in his eyes that he thought had been snuffed out since the incident.

“kaveh…?” you rub your eyes tiredly from where you’re resting on his chest.

kaveh smiles at the tender sight of nuzzling up to him like this, soft with sleep and smelling like him. “you should go home and clean up.”

you’re slurring your words together, heavily lethargic. “but what ‘bout you?”

“i’ll be fine,” kaveh murmurs fondly, unable to resist kissing your forehead. “i’ll be fine.” because he knows now that even if he were to do the right or wrong thing, he still has you to come back to, and that’s more than enough for him to do it no matter the cost.

kaveh sells his house.

it was almost underwhelming. he was expecting a heart-wrenching realization stopping him halfway through even making that decision, yet all he felt as he talked to the buyers was this empty feeling—the same one he feels every time he comes back to it as if it’s still his home.

all that runs through his mind is that he has a new one now. and this one, he will not even think about selling off. more than a building, more than just a house.

this revelation keeps him chin-up and strong as he faces dori and tells her about his decision. he’s sure that dori’s cunning smile will haunt him for a few days.

“you’ve been so busy, kaveh.” you narrow your eyes, studying his face from all angles with your hand on his chin. “what’s up? have you been feeling unwell? someone pushing you to your limits?”

kaveh is trying so, so hard not to smile and spoil the surprise, but you’re poking his cheek and pouting again like before, and he’s weak to anything you give him. “no,” he laughs, letting you move his face around so long as you keep your hands on him.

“you’re happy,” you conclude. “something good happened. another commission?” you frown when kaveh shakes his head. kaveh kisses the point where your brows furrow, unable to help himself. “don’t give me that. even cyno isn’t telling me.”

“cyno knows that you’ll like this surprise this time.”

“the last time you hid something from me, it ended terribly,” you warn.

kaveh huffs. “not anymore, i swear on it. because it’s finished, and i’m going to show the surprise right now.”

“what?”

it’s not quite finished, the palace of alcazarzaray. there are people on the sidelines painting the walls, some digging their hands in the dirt and watering the carefully selected flowers. he watches as your eyes draw to it first, gaze softening impossibly—and this is where kaveh knew that he did something right.

“oh,” you murmur.

kaveh doesn’t take your silence as an insult—quite the opposite. he lets you soak it all in, just like he did when the building looks more like what he envisioned, even when he’s drawn this over and over in his head and on paper.

it’s not his place. he doesn’t own it, but deep down, he proudly calls it his.

“this looks like the draft you made that day,” you say after a long moment of silence. “the one you said you did on ‘autopilot.’”

“that’s because it is.” kaveh lays his eyes on it. “i sacrificed so much for this.”

you grin, turning to him. “you know what i’ll say already, don’t you?”

“that i’ve wonderfully lost my mind?”

“that there’s nothing i wish more than to see what the world looks like in your eyes.”

kaveh blushes madly. “you shouldn’t. you’d just see yourself.”

he wanted to give you a tour, but there’s not much to be done when your lips slot against his under the stars, and you’re right in front of his magnum opus as if you’re part of it.

whispers come quickly and float long enough for kaveh to pick up on it the moment he stepped foot on the hallways.

there he is, they say. kaveh built the palace of alcazarzaray, didn’t you hear? yes, yes that one. light of kshahrewar.

he wants to smile politely when they all look at him as if he’s hung the stars, but he knows it’d only come off as bitter. they aren’t wrong: he did something right and good with that project, and everything turned out safe and finished in the end—

but it doesn’t just end there. he sits in a pile not of mora but dust and a heavy heart upon the reminder that he sold off what used to be his home for this. it cost him; does that mean this is the right thing?

kaveh takes a deep breath in and knocks on tighnari’s door.

immediately, he’s greeted by the sight of his friends: al-haitham and cyno tucked in some corner playing TCG (cyno winning), tighnari pointing in his direction, and you brightening as the door closes behind kaveh.

“kaaaveehh!” you garble happily, crashing into his chest and snuggling. “kaveh, you’re here.”

kaveh doesn’t need to sniff the air to piece two and two together. “you’re drunk already?” kaveh smiles, helping you regain balance.

tighnari sighs as he trots over, ears drooping in shame. “that’s my fault. i didn’t realize y/n took my glass until i took a sip and tasted water.”

“kaveeeh,” you wail, holding onto his sleeves desperately like someone is going to take him away. “kaveh, look at you! you’re so—so nice. so pretty. i love youuu…”

“i love you, too,” he says warmly, turning his head away so you wouldn’t see the stupid grin on his face.

in this angle, he can see the judgemental stares of cyno and al-haitham, which prompts a “shut up!” from him despite them having not said anything.

you hiccup. “kaveh, i need to sit down. kaveh, can we sit down?”

he leads you to the nearest loveseat, never once separating from you—not that he can when you aren’t giving him a chance to, anyway. “can i get a glass, too?” he asks tighnari, who was holding back laughter while watching the entire scene.

when tighnari comes back with enough glasses to have kaveh know right away that he won’t be leaving this house with steady steps, they all their glasses for a toast. to kaveh, to the palace of alcazarzaray, to everyone.

“hey.” kaveh rests a hand on the small of your back, which you bat away clumsily.

“i have a boyfriend,” you grumble, “don’t… don’t…”

“what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” kaveh teases.

“ugh, don’t talk to me. go away. i feel like i’m about to hurl yesterday’s lunch. i’ll do it on you,” you threaten, head lolling as you try to sit up. kaveh helps you through it, chuckling quietly when you push him off and repeating that you have a boyfriend.

and then you start crying.

said boyfriend, of course, panics, hands flying uselessly as tears fall and keep falling from your eyes. “why are—are you crying? what happened? do we need to take you outside?”

“my boyfriend… i want to be with him forever…” you sob through sniffles, awkwardly wiping tears away with a wobbly arm.

kaveh frowns. “well, why can’t you?”

“because i can’t stay here forever. but he stays here forever. i want to stay with him forever, but i can’t. i need to go everywhere, not—not stay here. my head hurts. please, i need water.”

overwhelmed, kaveh goes to fetch a glass of water, numb. “here, water. drink it slowly,” he says.

“thank you,” you say. “don’t tell him i said any of those.”

“i won’t, i promise,” kaveh says, his voice small.

without warning, you climb over and settle on his lap, resting your cheek against his chest. kaveh doesn’t know if it’s the first sip of alcohol or if it’s just you making his heart race and placate all at once—but he already knows the answer.

“i thought you have a boyfriend?” kaveh asks, carding his fingers through your hair.

“i do, but…” you exhale slowly, your weight getting a little heavier as you relax, and kaveh smiles because how could he not? “you smell like home.”

he’ll bring it up some other time.

unfortunately, he doesn’t get the courage to bring it up. he faces his consequence when it’s too late, and you’re the one to speak to him about it.

you’re braiding his hair, slow and steady, the way he likes it. you’ve bought him various hairpins that you said match his eyes. he doesn’t think he’s met someone who’s loved his eyes as much as you before. to show his appreciation, he insists on wearing all of them, even if he doesn’t need them.

“do you remember the exchange program i mentioned briefly a while back?”

kaveh ransacks through his head for the memory. he only remembers you warning him that you won’t be staying in sumeru forever when you first got together, and some drunken conversations. “i think so, yes. you said you’ll finish there. why? what brought this up?”

“i got accepted.” the last hairpin clicks into place. there are about six on his head. “i’ll be leaving soon.”

kaveh’s eyes brighten as he turns to you, expecting you to be thrilled, but you look nervous. you aren’t meeting his eyes.

“y/n,” kaveh says softly, holding your cheeks in his palms, “what’s wrong?”

“it’s in inazuma,” you say carefully. “and if i finish there and continue with my dream, i won’t really have… all the time to go back here.”

that’s too far, is what kaveh wants to say. he doesn’t, because he vividly remembers you saying you want to go everywhere someday, and who is he to bind you to him because he is selfish and needy? in the grand scheme of things, he is no one in your life.

“will you be alone?”

“no. i’ll be with anis, and i’ll have soraya come with me to liyue when the time comes. i won’t be alone.”

kaveh nods, easing a bit. “that’s good.”

kaveh must be wearing a pitiful expression if you scramble to speak again. “we can write each other letters,” you say weakly. “or i can send gifts…”

he thinks of his mother, leaving to fontaine, writing to him on occasion. he thinks of seeing his mother again after so long, seeing how happy she is, and he thinks about how he hadn’t seen her like that when kaveh was still living with her after his father’s death.

“and tie you down to me?” kaveh shakes his head. “don’t worry about me while you’re taking on the world. too many sights to see to think about me.”

your expression looks pained. “you’re not tying me down. i love you more than that.”

kaveh’s reply is instant. “enough to not leave?”

you wince, and kaveh curses himself, flinching away from holding your face to ball his fingers into fists beside him. “no, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean that, please ignore i said that. i’m sorry.”

“kaveh,” you say, and kaveh understands, more than anyone, what you’re thinking right now.

“i know.”

“kaveh, i—i’m sorry, i can’t… i don’t…”

“that’s okay,” kaveh says, “i’m glad you told me, really. no, look at me. i’m happy for you; you can be happy for yourself, too.” it feels like we had only gotten together yesterday, and it’s already falling apart.

this was divine intervention, telling him—no, reprimanding him, don’t think about it. don’t say anything else, you might as well ruin it more; toss it in quicksand, will you? this was them telling him that if things were to work out in his favor two times in a row, he’d regret it later.

kaveh takes a deep, shuddering breath. “i was planning on leaving, too. we’ve just graduated, we deserve a vacation.” he was hoping to take you with him, but only here he realizes how selfish it was. you warned him, too, so he can’t say you didn’t.

you seem relieved that he’s keeping a conversation. “really?”

“yes. just here in sumeru, though,” he says, sheepish. “you’ve set on something bigger, and i was already nervous about my choice.”

“you’ll be fine, kaveh.” you sound so sure. kaveh doesn’t know how you make it sound like you know him better than himself. “the world is so beautiful, and it can’t wait to see what part of it inspires you.”

at least, this time, he gets to say goodbye, and he gets to see you while he says it.

“so, that’s it?”

“don’t hold back because of me, kaveh,” you tell him. “if love finds its way back to you again, catch it and don’t feel sorry for me.”

kaveh wants to say it in return, but the best he can do is be selfish in silence. he doesn’t want you with anyone else that isn’t him—just thinking about it hurts him.

“i’ll come home someday,” you say. kaveh nods because he wants this promise to be real this time. “and maybe we can still be friends, if you’ll have me.”

this, kaveh realizes, is really what his father meant when he said to do the right thing, no matter what it costs you.

later, he invites tighnari, cyno, and al-haitham out for dinner.

and when they arrive at the table, the first thing kaveh says is, “i’ll be leaving next week.” his friends weren’t able to pry much from him, but they could figure it out on their own if they saw the list of the students going abroad.

things go on: too slow for kaveh’s liking, and a little unsteady from time to time, but when he pictures you living your life somewhere, he thinks he can’t let you beat him to it, so he tries his best.

it’s been a while since you last visited sumeru.

everything looks the same since you’ve last been here, but something feels different. it takes you a while to realize it’s the people walking about happily, and to you, it seems like something is missing from their ears.

you had already removed the akasha the moment you moved out, but it was still a little jarring to step into your homeland without it, and seeing people do the same. the two guards who were usually in charge of handing them out to tourists are gone from their place, too.

anis breathes in deeply, then exhales shakily. she had stayed in liyue for far longer than you had, habituated herself to it, but still, sumeru is where she looks right at home, with trees and shades of green surrounding her. “oh, how i missed this! no other region can beat the fresh and dewy air of sumeru, no matter how beautiful their architecture is.”

you nudge her. “you were the one complaining about having to leave mondstadt yesterday.”

anis scowls, huffing petulantly. “i was tired. and the goth grand hotel had funny guests. you spent all day picking windwheel asters—make a whole flower shop with them already, will you?”

“shh, don’t be so loud.” anis flails around until you free her mouth from your palm. she stares at you, scandalized. “no one is supposed to know i’m back yet.”

“you shouldn’t have come with me if that was the case, then,” anis says, and you two continue walking up the bridge of the palace of alcazarzaray.

“you were the one who begged me to.”

it’s been forever since you’ve last seen it—the pictures you took don’t compare to the real thing—and yet it feels like the first time all over again, with warmth pressed on your side and the back of your palm tingling from the feeling of someone’s lips kissing it a few seconds before.

your heart aches faintly.

anis takes note of your face with a contemplative hum. “then again, you probably missed the man behind this the most. you should be grateful that i even managed to commission him! everyone flocks to kaveh the moment they get the chance.”

“it’s because you’re also from his darshan,” you argue, embarrassed. just hearing his name makes your face heat up.

“and i’m the best friend of his ex—right, right.” anis yelps when you pinch her elbow, but it fades off into laughter soon enough. you smile, but only because her glee is as contagious as wild fungi.

passing by the palace of alcazarzaray and into a secluded hut right across it, you and anis continue catching up, recalling akademiya memories that both of you agreed never to bring up again. it was mostly groupmates you hope are still failing their darshan with their incompetence. you hear some people chiming in, telling you about how a traveler and your friends saved the entirety of sumeru. weird, but not entirely outlandish.

“al-haitham as the acting grand scribe?” anis gawks. you are probably wearing a similar expression. “what happened while we were gone?”

you sigh. “i wish i knew, too. i wish i knew.”

“oh, look!” anis gestures ahead, under a large tree that curves forward and casts enough shade for a whole garden. “that’s the place kaveh asked to meet me in. and if i’m not mistaken, that blond guy over there with the red cape…”

“oh,” you breathe.

you didn’t think kaveh could be prettier than he already was, and he was already turning heads back then. stripped off the akademiya’s uniform and into something he looks more like himself in: drop-dead elegant. you appreciate the slit on the back of his blouse. (he’s still wearing six red clips.)

anis elbows you. “you can back out. i’d rather you don’t because i know how much you missed him, but—”

“i won’t,” you say. not that you can bring yourself to turn back when kaveh is right there anyway.

“kaveh!” anis calls out; you purposefully slow your steps so you’re in her shadow, yet kaveh’s eyes still snap to yours right away.

“anis.” kaveh stands from the table clumsily, his eyes round in surprise. “...y/n. both of you are back?”

“hi, kaveh,” you greet with a wave. “you look good.” he does. too good for someone who’s currently standing a few feet away from his ex. it almost feels like revenge.

“you, too,” kaveh smiles, reluctant, “it’s been so long.”

“i like your new style, kaveh!” anis whistles appreciatively, and you want nothing more than to nod and pray kaveh doesn’t see the way you’re eyeing him. “suits you. a natural artist, even outside construction.”

“speaking of,” kaveh starts. you can’t help but notice that even when his client is right there, his eyes stray to you too often, and you’re starting to feel like some flustered teenager over it, “you’re a talented artist yourself, anis. it was a surprise to hear from you about this project.”

“i know i am, but who am i to waste the opportunity of taking advantage of my connections? i’m fortunate enough that you accepted right away.”

“of course. congratulations on the engagement, anis,” kaveh says sincerely, from one old friend to another.

“thank you.” anis smiles in return. “people in liyue were too charming. now here i am, with a ring on my finger.” she wiggles the fingers of her left hand for emphasis.

kaveh quirks a brow. “were they?”

anis grins slyly. “don’t worry, y/n wasn’t looking at all.”

you gape, incensed. “anis!”

kaveh hides a laugh behind his hand, and he’s only looking at you. “thanks for telling me.”

embarrassed, you duck your head and remind yourself that anis owes you a trip back to liyue for that. you can still feel kaveh’s stare on you, burning on your head.

mercifully, he does drop it, straightening his posture and looking more like sumeru’s most famous architect anis commissioned. you’re seeing what years and years have done to kaveh—it’s done him good. “before we get straight into it, would you tell me more about what you had in mind? along with your partner’s opinions, of course.”

and because anis is cruel and evil, she drags you along with it the entire time.

anis excuses herself to order water, saying her mouth is dry from all that talking and debating with kaveh over designs. you wonder how they even got along as group mates.

“the padisarah is clever,” you say, gaining more confidence when kaveh beams as you start the conversation. “i’m glad you learned to appreciate flora in your works. it’s perfect.”

“i’m grateful to the one who taught me all about its beauty,” he replies, eyes twinkling.

you laugh, trailing off stiffly, unsure what to say. so you don’t reply.

you want to ask him so many questions. how are you? i missed you. did you tailor this outfit yourself? you look good. do you hate me for leaving? because i do. yet looking at him, you find yourself speechless.

“where are you headed next after this?” kaveh asks, shifting his weight from one foot to another. it reminds you too much of what he used to do back in the akademiya.

“i’m not sure. i heard cyno’s in the desert right now, so i might head to gandharva ville first. say hi to al-haitham for me?”

kaveh’s expression falls. “yeah… yeah, of course. i’ll see you around.”

tighnari opens the door, his face melting in surprise. “y/n?”

“tighnari!” you greet with a bright smile, opening your arms for him. “surprise…?”

because tighnari was never really the most affectionate, he shuffles forward and lets you hug him with great difficulty. he mumbles, “since when have you returned to sumeru? you didn’t even tell me.”

“you need to be reminded of the definition of surprise, tighnari,” you laugh, stepping inside his house when he moves aside. a lot has changed in this one, brimming with more books and looking worn down than you last remember. there’s a bed on the corner, the blanket kept clean and tidy.

“have you met up with kaveh yet?”

“...of course i have.”

tighnari’s ear flicks, and he smiles knowingly. “he still loves you as much, you know.”

you grimace. is that really the first thing he’s going to talk about? tighnari was also never one to mince his words and spoonfeed it gently. “it’s been so long. you can’t assume something so absurd.”

“y/n,” tighnari says, returning to his table where he seems to be working on a concoction, “you weren’t there for when kaveh decided to leave for the desert. i’ve never seen him want to get so drunk that badly. he was just talking about you.”

you grimace. “oh.” you remember every word you’ve said clearly and his expressions that keep you up on lonely nights. “that just proves my point.”

“no. he was moping, sure. but the alcohol in his system made him all the more honest. he was just talking about you.” tighnari crushes leaves in his bowl, eyes flicking up to meet your nervous ones. “reverently, almost. like you never broke up.”

“years ago, tighnari,” you remind, face hot.

“he’s always been the most romantic one out of the four of us.”

you let the silence settle for a few moments as your thoughts wander, back to kaveh and back to the windwheel asters you kept on a pot and carried as is to sumeru. it’s never been that easy.

“well, i didn’t come here for a pep talk,” you say, clearing your throat. “is that the waterproofing oil you’ve been working on since back then? it looks much smoother than before.”

tighnari grins. “i’ve learned a lot, and i know so have you. from one amurta graduate to another, surely you know what i mean?”

he talks you through what he’s been doing for the past years. it feels like you’ve gone through a lifetime without them, but that’s coming from you, who was convinced that you wouldn’t be returning at all. if tighnari notices that your mind is far off elsewhere, he generously doesn’t comment on it.

you aren’t needed at all, yet anis still takes you to the next meeting, where kaveh will reveal his first proposal. you remind anis of this, but she only replies with:

“don’t give me that. kaveh was the one who asked to bring you along.”

you rolled your eyes at that because not even you would believe her.

but still, you come along because these quick meetings give you a chance to see kaveh without having to come up with a half-baked excuse. you’ll treasure these few days before you eventually have to see him again when tighnari—or cyno, or maybe even al-haitham—gets tired of this unbearable push and pull and forces a date. and things go south because kaveh will say he’s been happier without you, and you travel back to another region, heartbroken.

…at least that’s what you were expecting. kaveh usually hasn’t gone on for this long when dealing with clients, and both he and anis know what they’re doing. what’s more surprising than that is anis takes it all in stride, which doesn’t appease your confusion.

it’s the fifth day. usually, kaveh would be working on the building itself by now. (times change, you remind yourself, you don’t know him anymore.)

anis looks over kaveh’s nth proposal, huffing in what could almost be discerned as amusement. “oh, dear.”

you don’t see anything wrong with it. “it looks good to me…”

anis pinches your cheek, making you frown. “please, y/n. do me a favor and just ask him out already. all this hopeless pining is wearing down on his creativity.”

your face burns. “he’s my ex, anis! isn’t there an unspoken rule not to get back together with your ex?”

anis scoffs. “that rule doesn’t apply when both of you don’t act like exes in the first place.”

“i told him that if i got back, we can still be friends, that’s why…” you argue weakly.

“friends? you’re not fooling anyone, especially yourself.”

you sit under the stars and wonder if you ever went wrong, or if you’re slowly going back to the right path. you don’t regret leaving sumeru and exploring the world, but you regret ending things with kaveh like that. taking on the world had been so lonely thinking about him being happy with someone else. others from the regions you’ve visited tried their hand at pursuing you, but you’re too desperate to see blond hair and red eyes in them to let them in.

is this the right thing? being friends is better than being nothing, right?

kaveh appears from the entrance, looking around briefly before eventually—like it always does—his eyes land on you. “y/n? anis said you called for me.”

you smile at him. “yeah, i did.”

he steps forward and stops there, looking like a wary shroomboar against an armed ranger. you sigh, setting the pot aside and patting the empty space next to you. kaveh follows, sitting on the edge.

“are you scared of me, kaveh?”

“i don’t know what i can do,” he admits, and your expression eases.

you pick the pot up and place it carefully on his lap. kaveh’s hands fly out to catch it when it loses balance, brushing his hands against yours. maybe you shouldn’t be doing this sober

“a windwheel aster, for you.” you hold a finger in front of his face, feeling around in your bag to reveal another one, more crumpled and less alive than the one on kaveh’s lap, but it still spins when you blow on it. “and, uh—here, let me.”

kaveh closes his eyes when you lean in. (you’re not sure if it’s instinct.) you tuck it behind his ear, unable to help your grin when you pull away, and the breeze that catches on it makes the petals turn.

“i was right,” you say. “they look good with your eyes.”

“that’s cruel, y/n.”

your stomach drops, flinching away. you wring your hands on your lap, too ashamed to gaze at him directly. “i’m sorry, you probably didn’t—i shouldn’t have—”

kaveh reaches for your wrist, looking heartbroken. he kisses your palm, your wrist, and it’s then you realize that he’s not upset at you, but at himself. “y/n. i thought you wanted me to go easy on me and leave forever.”

“would it have been easier for you?”

“not unless you still want me to confess to you like we’re back in the akademiya, and i’m distressingly in debt.”

“aren’t you still distressingly in debt?”

kaveh breathes in the air shared between the two of you, face twisted in a way that looks like he’s barely holding back from smothering your face with kisses. “y/n, please.”

he still loves you as much, you know.

breathing hitching, you ask, “do you know what you’re saying…?”

“fate brought us together again. surely you don’t think i’ll be blind to another chance gifted to me?”

ah. tighnari is never wrong.

well, you should’ve known. you never could’ve been just friends with kaveh, not when he’s looking at you like you were never gone, and you still thought about him every night when you were.

“we can try, again,” you say. “you and i.”

“again,” kaveh agrees. “i won’t let you go this time.”

( you see kaveh there with dark bags under his eyes and his grip trembling slightly as it cuts across the page in something beyond a confident stroke—more so angry, barely held in, brimming and ready to spill.

students who pass by whisper to themselves and stare at him longer than they should’ve, but he doesn’t seem to care—or rather, doesn’t even notice that he’s in a public space. his eyes are trained on the stack of papers in front of him, eyes aflame.

anis notices your fond gaze and smirks.

she says aloud, “having this kshahrewar genius seek you out so constantly… i can’t even imagine—i’ve heard enough from my peers talking about how they regret not getting a chance to speak with him.”

“i don’t see how it’s my fault that kaveh didn’t want to entertain them.”

anis chortles. “oh, no wonder why he likes you so much.”

the collar of your uniform feels stiflingly hot all of a sudden. you hide what must be a pinched expression with a glare. “it’s not like that. it’s not.”

“you won’t be able to fight against it if it’s your fate.” anis throws an arm over your shoulder. “you should be thankful i followed your plan and made him notice you. now you’re inseparable! ah, love.” )

a/n i have never written this much before so art i hope u like it (and u owe me a xiao fic for this) <33333 but also this was actually rlly fun to write (if not for the fact that i hated writing it halfway the same reason i avoid writing long fics) rbs and comments fuel me!! ty for reading!!

#606:GENSHIN #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kaveh x reader #kaveh x you

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calqlate · 4 months

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LOVE, MAYBE | TWO

— LOVE, PERHAPS

SERIES MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

PAIRING: crown prince! kageyama tobio x f! crown princess! reader

SUMMARY: after taking your younger sister's place in a political marriage involving the crown prince of the neighboring kingdom of karasuno, you resigned yourself to a loveless marriage. little did you know, the prince has loved you for a while now and plans to win you over.

GENRE(S): arranged marriage au + royal au + fluff + one-sided pining (which later becomes mutual)

WC: 3128

TAGLIST: @deeomi

A/N: i forgot i had already written this and i just needed to edit it LMAO (clown emoji). n e ways, enjoy!

"your ladyship, his highness the crown prince is here to see you."

you were still keeping your gaze focused on the words on the thick management textbook in front of you. as you wrote down some notes on the margin of the textbook, you replied, "he may enter."

the large double doors swung open and in walked the prince, in all his glory, except... he had arrived with a huge bouquet of flowers clasped in his gloved hands. this was very out-of-character for the stoic prince, and this shocked the maids and butlers, who had (definitely) not expected to see the bloodthirsty prince with flowers in his hands. all the servants held back their breath as prince tobio walked right up to you, brows furrowed and eyes fixated on his fiancée who had not yet looked up to see him. he stopped short in front of your desk and you placed your pen down carefully before looking up at him. upon spying the grand bouquet in his hands, you raised your eyebrows, "what—"

"these are for you, my lady," he choked out, thrusting the bouquet into your face, "i thought these flowers suit you very well."

all eyes were on you as you awkwardly accepted the flowers, pretty much using your arms to wrap themselves around the lower half where the stems were. you eyed the pink arrangement of roses, asters, and lilies before looking up at the prince, "thank you, your highness. i appreciate your gift."

"do you..." his cheeks turned pink as his voice dropped drastically in volume and he averted his gaze to the side, "do you like them?"

"well..." you paused, watching his facial expressions carefully, "do you want me to be honest?"

he nodded, still avoiding your gaze.

"i appreciate the thought behind this, but..." you paused, then decided to take a leap of faith and be truthful (as he had said), "actually, i don't really like flowers."

an awkward and tense silence soon followed after the words left your mouth. prince tobio was pretty much frozen in sheer shock, she doesn't like flowers?! then again, never did he once thought of considering the possibility that you did not have a liking for flowers.

"i... i see," he coughed. feeling the embarrassment creep in, he said, "i have some matters to attend to, so i'll leave first. enjoy the rest of your day."

with that, he turned and exited your study, leaving you with a bunch of flowers in your hands and deathly silent servants.

"call the two hostlers in," prince tobio said with a sigh once he was safely in his own study, massaging his temples with furrowed brows. is courting girls supposed to be this difficult?

a few minutes later, hinata brought the hostlers in, who were both starry-eyed and were definitely expecting good news out of the advice that they had given to the prince.

"so, was her ladyship completely starstruck? lovestruck, even?" tanaka asked, grinning from ear to ear as he looked at the prince with hopeful eyes.

"did it go as planned, your highness?" nishinoya asked, his smile mirroring that of tanaka's.

the day that hinata had led prince tobio to tanaka and nishinoya, the two hostlers had given the prince some advice on the day itself.

"your highness, do you know what ladies really like?" tanaka said with a sly grin.

prince tobio shook his head, completely clueless. that itself was a given, since the prince had never gotten into a relationship before as he had dedicated his life to protecting the kingdom and learning how to be a good king to his subjects. to the prince, there was no space in his tightly packed schedule for romance.

"flowers," nishinoya piped up, "especially roses."

"why roses, specifically?" prince tobio asked, cocking his head to the side. was there a particular reason why roses were so popular among the ladies?

tanaka and nishinoya would have made a snide comment on how the prince was pretty much doomed to a life of being chronically single if his parents had not intervened to find a bride for him, but refrained from doing so lest they wanted their heads to roll off the guillotine. after all, he was the crown prince, and he was therefore the second-most powerful after the king himself. lopping off anyone else's head would be easy enough for him as long as he willed it to happen.

"that's because roses are a symbol of love in the language of flowers, your highness," tanaka explained, "if you give her ladyship roses, i'm certain that she will be able to see your feelings and accept them quickly!"

"no," prince tobio replied sharply, glaring at the two hostlers so harshly that shivers went up their spines, "she doesn't even like flowers."

tanaka's and nishinoya's eyes widened. this was the first time that they have ever heard of a lady not liking flowers at all. they glanced over at each other with an incredulous look on their faces, is her ladyship some sort of weird recluse?!

"is something the matter?" prince tobio asked, eyeing the two's non-verbal communication in front of him.

"n-no! nothing's wrong at all, your highness!" nishinoya said and shook his head vigorously.

"we're just surprised at how... unique her ladyship is!" tanaka said, faking a laugh, "there's no one quite as extraordinary as she is! am i right, nishinoya?"

he elbowed his friend, to which the latter laughed along with tanaka.

"well, what else do ladies like?" prince tobio asked, a frustrated crease appearing between his brows as he closed his eyes to think of something to remedy that day's situation as well.

"quality time!" nishinoya piped up, and prince tobio flung his eyes open to look at the shorter hostler, "if you spend more time around her ladyship, i'm sure she'll come to notice your affections a lot more!"

"spend time with her..." prince tobio muttered under his breath, then asked, "you mean, i have to set up a date with her or something?"

"not necessarily, your highness," tanaka said, "you can review documents together. you know, you just have to be by her side." he grinned, then continued, "it doesn't matter what you're doing. your presence is all that matters."

initially, you paid no mind when prince tobio said that he would be reviewing his documents while seated in your study. however, after a couple of minutes, you got rather concerned and, honestly, a little disturbed when you could feel the intensity of his gaze on your face. whenever you turned to look at him, he would immediately look back at his paperwork, pretending he had not been staring at you before. after what seemed like the twentieth time of doing so, you sighed and placed your pen down on your desk and looked at the prince, "your highness, please, just tell me what you want instead of staring at me like that."

he turned pink as he turned his head to the side, not wanting to make any sort of eye contact at all, "t-there's nothing in particular. i was simply... resting my eyes."

"your highness, looking at the greenery is a better solution to resting your eyes than staring at my face," you said, pushing your chair back as you stood up, "that being said, do you want to go on a walk with me?"

he whirled his head around and met your gaze with wide, confused eyes. he had never expected you to ask him to go on a walk together, but he was by no means disappointed, nor was he going to complain. instead, the corners of his lips curled upwards just very slightly as he, too, stood up, abandoning his paperwork, "sure. it's about time for me to take a break from reviewing these documents, anyway."

and so that was how the both of you exited the crown prince's palace to take a leisurely walk in the gardens. the air was fresh and the weather was rather cool, and it was all in all a perfect day to go on a walk. the both of you were not linking arms whatsoever and were maintaining a respectable distance between each other. an awkward silence hung in the air as you strolled about with the crown prince, looking anywhere else but each other: prince tobio was doing such so that he would not meet your gaze, and you were doing such because you thought that staring at him for a beat too long would be considered rude and improper.

"um, your highness, about that day," you were the first to break the ice, "i can explain."

"it's alright, it was my fault," prince tobio said, "i should've asked you about your preferences beforehand. i didn't know that you didn't like flowers."

"it's not that i don't like them," you said, "i simply think that they're kind of a waste. i mean, they die after a while, so i'd have to throw them out anyway and it'd be pointless." you then realised how your words could have been misinterpreted as you disregarding the prince's good intentions, so you added hastily, "i mean, i like things that last long. i don't like throwing my gifts away."

"oh, i see," prince tobio said, furrowing his brows together, so she likes things that can be kept and maintained.

"thank you for the flowers, though," you said. he turned to face you, only to see a small smile on your face as you said, "i liked them. really."

he felt his own cheeks begin to burn and he turned his head away before you could catch a glimpse of his red cheeks. he coughed, "i-i can get more for you if you'd like — ah, wait, you don't like flowers."

you laughed, "you learn fast, don't you, your highness?"

"s-shut up, dumbass," he muttered before trudging ahead of you, dying to bury his crimson face somewhere before anyone could catch sight of it and make fun of him for it. rumours of the prince turning red at a mere compliment would overwrite his image of having a cold exterior, which would not be good for him in court.

you watched as he walked on ahead and you picked up your pace to catch up, amusement seeping into your being. this side of the prince was a stark contrast to what you had heard about him.

perhaps he was not so bad of a person after all.

"so, how did it go, your highness?" the two hostlers looked at the prince with bated breath, hoping with all of their hearts that something positive happened this time, or it would really be off with their heads.

"she smiled at me," prince tobio said with an excited look in his eyes, but then frowned shortly afterwards after recalling your subsequent teasing, "oh, but she seemed to be making fun of me."

"t-that's okay, your highness! it's a positive step forward!" nishinoya said and held up two thumbs-up, smiling, "her ladyship is warming up to you!"

"really?" prince tobio looked at the two hostlers with wide, hopeful eyes that resembled those of an anticipating puppy waiting for praise.

"yes!" tanaka said, "so don't fret, your highness! you're doing really well!"

prince tobio's eyes were sparkling again, and tanaka and nishinoya looked at each other. They did not have the heart to not tell him that it could possibly be a negative sign as well, because lady qq might have actually been making fun of him.

"anyway! your highness, there's this last method you should try," tanaka said with a wink, "it'll be sure to catch her ladyship's heart—" — he snapped his fingers — "in an instant! just like that!"

"what is it?" prince tobio was more than intrigued to hear what tanaka had to offer.

"well," tanaka said, a proud grin on his face, "it's..."

"your ladyship, his highness the crown prince requests you to go to the greenhouse for tea with him."

you rubbed your temples. you were fatigued from the lessons from the past few weeks: you had been receiving supplemental crash courses on the additional aspects of ruling that you had not learnt while you were receiving classes as the heir to your father's duchy. a kingdom was far larger than a dukedom, so of course there were more things that rulers of kingdoms were subjected to know compared to those of dukedoms. you had barely been able to keep up, but miraculously, you were still functioning and capable of sitting in your study to absorb more material. maybe it was the studies that your parents had subjected you to that allowed your brain to absorb a little more information.

"alright, i'll go over to him now," you said, standing up.

you sucked in a breath and headed straight to the greenhouse with some maids accompanying you. truth to be told, you would love nothing more than to catch a couple of z's in your bedroom than be drinking tea with the prince. sure, he was your fiancé-to-be, but you prioritised your rest above all. you could not believe you still had the energy to smile and sit there with the prince despite all of your body’s cells screaming at you to get some sleep.

"you're here," prince tobio said as soon as you approached the table.

"thank you for preparing the tea," you said as you curtseyed before sitting down.

"the maids said that you like milk tea, so i've prepared that for today's tea session," he said, "and i heard that you like sweet foods, so i've prepared more sweet snacks."

you noted the milk tea in your cup, as well as the assortment of cakes and scones on the table before you turned to him, "thank you, your highness. i appreciate it."

slowly, you picked up your teacup and took a sip out of it, letting the sweet taste of the drink bloom across your tongue. you could hear the prince talking, but you could not bring your focus onto any of his words at all. it was as though you were stuck in some sort of container made of thick glass and you could barely hear what the people on the other end were saying. you closed your eyes for a second before opening them again, just before you felt something trickling down your nose. you lifted a hand up towards your face to wipe your nose and pulled away before looking down at your fingers, only to see red liquid smudging your fingertips. you looked back up at the prince and made eye contact before you felt all of your remaining strength leave your body and your eyes roll back into your skull.

your vision was coming back, little by little.

it was a little hazy at first when you first cracked your eyes open. however, the more you cranked them open by sheer force and determination, the fog started to clear up as clarity crept back into your eyesight.

"my lady!"

you felt someone grab your hand firmly and warmly, and you slowly turned your head to the side to see who it was. it was prince tobio, who was seated by your bedside with both of his hands clasped around your hand. concern was evident in his blue eyes as he locked eyes with you. you immediately tried to sit up, and he assisted you in doing so, until you were seated up properly with a pillow safely supporting your back.

"how are you feeling?" he asked, his brows creased together in concern.

"i feel fine," you muttered, your voice raspy. honestly, you felt as though you were in a confused daze, as though you had been asleep for an extensive period of time. you asked, "how long was i asleep for?"

"two days," he replied, then his frown deepening as he said, "you've been over-working yourself, haven't you?"

"i..." you were at a loss for words. you, too, were not sure how much or far you had pushed yourself because every single day had passed in one indistinct blur.

"you did," he answered in your stead, "and that's how your body finally crashed."

you stayed mute as he breathed out a sigh from his nose as he squeezed your hand gently, "studying is good, but don't push yourself too hard."

you looked at him with a confused look on your face, why would you care? i'm just someone you're forced to marry, anyway.

as if he could read your thoughts, he answered, "i worry because i'm your husband." he paused, then corrected himself, "well, husband-to-be, but that's not the point."

he cast his gaze down at your hands as he picked both of them up and held them gently, as if they were fragile glass pieces that could shatter with one wrong move, "please take care of yourself."

he looked back up at you to observe your facial expressions: your face was completely neutral and seemingly guarded as you met his gaze. disappointment filled his lungs as he said, "i'll leave you to rest."

gingerly, he let go of her hands (that he had placed on her lap) before getting up from the chair and leaving your room, not before taking some extra precautions with your maids and butler. as the door swung shut behind him, he sighed, looks like that didn't work, either.

"what is it?" prince tobio was more than intrigued to hear what tanaka had to offer, leaning forward and hanging onto his every word as if he were preaching the holy word.

"well," tanaka said, a proud grin on his face, "it's... to be a gentleman towards her! nothing else beats a guy who treats her well."

"what on earth, ryuu!" nishinoya smacked tanaka's bicep, "what if her ladyship likes guys that degrade her and stuff? you know, the mean types!"

"i don't think she does," tanaka retorted with a frown, "what kind of crazy psycho—" — then, upon remembering that he was talking about the future crown princess here, he quickly stopped himself mid-sentence and changed his words — "i mean, person would reject flowers?" he added, "my guess is that she's not the innocent sort that would love a bad boy to sweep her off her feet." he grinned, "wanna bet, noya?"

i suppose it's another fail today, then, prince tobio sighed as he walked down the hallway.

however, if he had chosen to turn around and take a sneak peek into the room, he would have seen the telltale blush rising on your cheeks.