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luvrxbunny · 7 months

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black oak

Pairing: Perv?BSF!Eddie Munson x Innocent!Fem!Reader

Prompt: Voyeurism

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smoking (weed ofc),m! masturbation, f! masturbation, pillow humping, cum in pants (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 1.6k

A/N: im cutting it so close w these fics (i made this literally yesterday)

This started happening more recently now that you’re hanging out with Eddie more. You hang out with him after school and he walks you home, but whenever he leaves there's a consuming heat between your legs. It’s more tame when you’re with him, like a subtle hum in the back of your mind but once he leaves you; your mind hyper-fixates on him.

You’re trying to sleep but Eddie is in your head. You writhe around in your bed as you think about everything he is; brave, kind, caring, and sweet. You think about his hands, his hair, his rings, and his voice. You wiggle around in bed until your pillow makes its way between your thighs. Your hips stutter against it and you freeze, looking around the room as if someone may be watching you before letting yourself succumb to the pleasure of the fabric against your slit.

You tighten your thighs around the pillow, tilting your hips up to press your most sensitive spot against the pillow. You mutter timid curses under your breath, hugging your teddy bear to your chest with your eyes shut tight as you picture his face reluctantly. You always feel so dirty picturing him like this, thinking of him in this way. You can’t help but replay all the times you’ve seen him lick his lips, his pink, wet, tongue peeking from between them, the way he bites into the bottom one when trying to nail a certain chord. You can feel yourself getting even wetter between your legs, whining as you soak your pillow. It’s not enough.

You whine as you push yourself into a sitting position, straddling the pillow with a curve in your back to press yourself perfectly into it. Your head falls back at the stimulation and your eyelids flutter, you slowly roll your head forward and notice your drapes and window slightly open. You consider closing them, not wanting anyone to see, to hear but you feel a certain rush in your stomach at the exposure and shyly decide to leave them be.

Outside your window, is Eddie. He does this almost every night, this is the first time he’s seen this though. He walks you home after you hang out with him, and if the hangout has left something to be desired he simply climbs into his tree and watches you. There is this beautiful black oak tree that sits outside your window. If Eddie wanted more of you, but couldn’t hang out with you more- due to your very strict parent’s ruling- he suffered silently. He asked you if you could stay longer one time; the sad look in your eyes as you explained how upset your parents would be, broke his heart, so he never asked again.

However, when you showed him the pretty tree beside your bedroom, right outside your bedroom window- there was only one thought in his head. So it became a routine, if he didn’t have plans, and remembered to bring a lighter with his joint. He’ll light up and just sit on his branch outside your window. He usually witnesses you doing your school work, writing in your diary, and talking with your stuffed animals. If he’s lucky you’ll change your clothes there, although the way you change actually lets him see nothing. Tonight? He can’t believe his eyes.

His joint has long gone out, still in between his fingers as the bulge grows in his pants and his eyes bulge out at you. He’s fighting an internal battle, his hands are twitching to touch himself but he feels guilty intruding on such a private moment. He’s thought about you in this way before- he tries not to but mostly just cannot help himself. You’re so sweet, so caring toward him, so loving that he can’t help but feel this way for you. When you sit on his bed in your skirt, forgetting to tuck it under your butt- your panties pressed right into his bed… he’s hard in an instant. He’s thought of you while jerking off more times than he could count but in all his creativity he could’ve never imagined himself in a scenario as lucky as this.

He quickly puts the joint in his pocket and fumbles with his pants. He’s whining to no one as he undoes his belt. “Keep goin’, sweetheart. Ooh, so good, baby.” He shoves his hand into his underwear, quickly wrapping his fingers around his cock, pretending that it’s you. He’s already thrusting his hips into his fist as he watches you reach blindly for something to hug into your chest as your hips speed up. Eddie’s hand kicks up to match your pace and a moan rips itself from his throat. He watches you bite into your lip and your eyebrows twitch before you mutter something he wishes he could hear.

He zeros in on your hips, the way they move over your pillow, how desperately he wishes that was him. He pulls his hand away from his cock with a groan and rubs himself through his jeans. It’s less stimulating but it lets him pretend that it’s you and that makes it feel better than his hands ever could. His eyes roll back into his head as his hands find the same rhythm as your hips and he moans your name into the night air. He’s not worried about being caught, he can only think of you. He forces his eyes open to watch as your hips begin to stutter in their pace. He lets out a pained moan, wishing he could help you keep it steady, help you cum as fast, and as hard as you could.

You’re muttering something again, your volume climbing as you near your peak. Eddie’s legs are shaking as he holds off for you, wanting to cum at the same time. He watches you drop your teddy and place your hands on the pillow, holding it in place as you furrow your brows and grind harder, humping your pillow as your lips part into an ‘O’ shape. His stomach tenses painfully as he moans your name to no one, under his breath, just for him as he imagines you above him. The utterance of your name from his lips just brings him closer to the edge as he begins to hear a muffled translation of what your moans sound like. He shuffles himself a bit closer to your window, trying to hear as much of you as he can. He hears you saying something, a name, one he prays is his because he couldn’t handle the heartbreak of hearing someone else’s fall from your lips at a time like this.

He thinks about what you’d sound like saying his name as a moan, a groan, or even a whine or whimper if he’s lucky. He tries to fit his name into the blurry shape of whatever sound is falling from your mouth and it fits brutally well. He has to take his hands away, thrusting up into the air blindly, eyes rolled back and shut as your noises assault his senses. He can’t believe how well his name fits in your mouth, like your lips were made to form around it. “Eddie.” He can hear it, you’d say it high and breathy, on the cusp of cumming all over him, all around him, however you want. “Ed- Eddie” His eyes snap open to watch your lips as they form over his name again, “Eddie, please!” Your voice kicks up into a whine and your hips stutter to a stop as you fold over, shaking as you cum all over your pillow.

Eddie is painting the inside of his jeans, his hips thrusting erratically into his hand as he bites his lip so hard he’s scared he’ll take a chunk out of it. Your name and images of you are racing through his head, they do every time he cums, he just can’t help it anymore. He thinks about how you said his name, how it sounded from your lips… the fact that you’re thinking of him when you hump your pillow at night.

A strangled groan-whimper shoves its way from his chest as his balls tighten even more, producing as much cum as they can for you. His head slams back against the tree painfully and his eyes cross as he worships you in his mind, thanking you for making him cum, for letting him touch himself for you. His eyes open back up slowly, his hand overstimulating himself gently as you slowly overstimulate yourself, rocking your hips lazily over the pillow, your thighs twitching every so often. He watches you topple over onto your bed, leaving the pillow between your legs as you reach out for a different teddy, a smile spreading over your face when you find what you’re looking for.

He’s watching you through lidded eyes, his hips still twitching slightly. His brows furrow until he sees what you’re after, his heart swells and warms his chest. It’s a teddy bear he won for you at a fair, he’s wearing a leather jacket and sunglasses, you said he reminded you of Eddie.

He feels that little tingle he gets in his nose he gets when he’s about to cry and he tries his best to hold back as he starts climbing out of the tree, he always turns into a sap when he cums for you. He’s always wishing you loved him the way he loves you but for the first time, these tears are more positive. He peeks up at you one more time before dropping out of the tree and he gets to see you kiss ‘little Eddie’ on his head and snuggle him to your chest. He’s starting to actually think he may have a chance with you, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works, and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

#eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #perv!eddie x reader #perv!eddie munson

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bluexiao · 2 years

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#there for you

—when they walk in on someone else being mean to you

CHARACTERS. Albedo, Ayato, Childe, Cyno, Diluc, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Thoma, Venti, Xiao, Zhongli; gn! Reader

THEMES. hurt/comfort; angst to fluff?; some might’ve been unintentional crack, honestly

WARNINGS. may have themes of verbal and emotional ab*se; them being protective; scara showing his authority; toxic family in ayato’s part

NOTES. this is a request from an anon and it got pushed back a lot of times, so glad i got to post it now finally hahah

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

ZHONGLI knew the wicked ways of both mortals and gods—all the good things and the bad things that had happened throughout the millennia, he had seen them all. With this in mind, this is nothing new, actually, such a situation unfolding like this in front of him is not out of the ordinary at all. And yet…

“What is the meaning behind this?”

When he came right next to you, everyone stopped talking, holding their breath as a heavy pressure fell upon the air almost too suddenly—or maybe it had been a while since the pressure had been like this but they only noticed it when someone else joins in, which is what happened—but in reality, they did not see what is coming upon them, nor had they realized that the pressure his presence held came from an identity they did knew but do not see in him.

“Ah, Mr. Zhongli, you see-“

“My words are not directed to you, Mr. Zhang.” His voice was firm, and so was his gaze, but as they turned to you, relief washed over you almost instantly. “Darling, would you care to explain the situation to me?”

No matter what other people say, he would listen to you. He knows you more and trusts you all the same. As much, as he could see the way you tried to hold yourself up, he couldn’t handle also seeing you stress over something that someone else caused you out of just a very simple thing—and after confirming things through, he’ll do his best to solve it—of course, mostly in your favor.

At the end of it all, he will be taking you out for fresh air and making sure you were feeling better after such a stressful experience.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

XIAO had been through a lot of pain. For him, this suffering is meant for him, something that he thinks that no one else should experience but him—as he very much deserved it—this kind of pain… he can handle them all.

And you—especially you—are one of those who he did not wish to bring up the same kind of pain he had experienced. No matter what.

Xiao is a natural protector, and it is why it took all of him to control himself. His fists were balled tight and his eyes pierced through everyone in the area. He stood tall, right in front of you, between you and the person that was still glaring right at you.

“Walk off, human.” He sneers. Just as he was about to call his weapon, he could feel your hand on his wrist, your touch waking him up from the momentary blur he felt. Despite still feeling tensed, he instinctively takes your hand to his and holds it tight—yet not too much, just enough to make you feel assured that he was there—and he’s there for you.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

VENTI is the embodiment of freedom and was the hope of people from then, and even until now, they praise his name in the midst of their success and pray in the midst of their suffering. He can hear them all, even if it can sometimes be overwhelming, it is something he had been used to as he had lived long enough to endure it.

When he heard your voice tremble with the mention of his name, he knew, and he was there in an instant that it surprised the people how fast it had gotten for him to rush your way.

“Venti!”

“Y/n!”

Far too many times, he was the one rushing to your arms, but at times that it was you, he just knew that there is indeed something wrong.

“Why? What is happening, love?” He hadn’t even realized that there are other people with the two of you until you looked away and he felt their presence all of a sudden, looking around and meeting their judgemental eyes.

“You’ve hung around this bard for far too long, Y/n, his way had gotten to you, huh?”

Venti rarely gets mad—like mad mad, he really doesn’t—you’ve never seen him. Yet today, not even putting the pieces altogether before reacting, a flame grew inside of him that he had never intensely felt before—maybe he did, well, he certainly did, but it was all so foreign and he just… erupts.

“Excuse me, I don’t think you should be doing this.”

“Hm? And what business do you even have here, bard? Who are you to interfere?”

You could see your boyfriend bite his lip, you could almost feel the suppression of his anger that you had to wrap your hand on his wrist, yet he doesn’t back down.

“If you knew who I am, you wouldn’t even be standing in front of me at this very moment.” You should be kneeling.

The thought scared him—how he could just break at any moment and all of that is because of you.

Then he forces out a grin—you could tell it was fake though—“I’m Y/n’s boyfriend. Of course, it’ll be my business as well.”

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

THOMA always knows what to do when there are disputes—it’s his job! Of course, he can handle them! But wait… isn’t that… you?

“What is happening here?” He came without any other hesitation, making sure to place himself in between you and the vendor that was yelling at your face. It is very rare for people to see him mad—mostly serious, but not to the point he would be furrowing his brows and frowning his lips—and it would seem this would be one of those times.

“Love… do you want me to handle this for you?”

Whatever your answer will be, he will be by your side—if you need assistance, just send him a glance or a squeeze of his hand, he’s there. He’s very observant, so he knows very well how to respond properly and fit upon your comfort—actually, at this point of time, this will be what he will be prioritizing he will do his best to bring the situation where you’re the most comfortable or pleased with.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

“The nerve! You dare to do this right in front of me?!”

SCARAMOUCHE’s voice was heard all over the area, and by then, each of the Fatui members knew what that tone indicated very well. (Someone’s going to suffer that day)

He glares down at the said person and almost kicks them, only for him to feel you grab him by his arm, catching his attention for you to shake your head no to him.

“Are you telling me to spare this piece of trash when—” he cuts himself off and pauses before breathing out a heavy sigh, looking away.

He can’t just ignore you when you’re giving him that look.

“You’re lucky.” He mutters while he glares at the person who had hurt you. He then turns away and pulls you close to him, making you follow suit.

He gestures his hands towards his subordinates, to which they silently made their way to the person, bringing them away… and maybe for them to await his final judgement.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

KAZUHA is away for most of the time. At first, this was something that he thought would work out—even distance could not break whatever you and he have, that is something he is very much sure of. But there are times when he did not have a choice and had to leave.

And his instincts from the start were not proven wrong.

He had just arrived from his current travel to Mondstadt when you weren’t on the docks—he did send you a letter beforehand for you to be informed that he will be returning soon, were you unable to receive it? You’ve always received his letters in the past, what could’ve changed?

There was an uncertain beat in his chest as if being able to smell the faint scent of danger in the wind.

And he was right this time as well.

“I believe we must discuss this in a calm manner.”

“What do you mean? And who are you? Mind your own business!”

You tried to stop Kazuha from trying to get in between you and the vendor, but he merely looked back at you and gave you a smile, as if assuring you that everything is going to be okay.

But will it be?

As if sensing your worry, he reaches out for your hand and squeezes them gently.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

KAEYA had met a lot of people and observed just as much. One thing he learned from all of these is how to predict people—and this he expected, and he was glad he did before anything else had happened without him there.

“This is not how you’d like to treat others, sir.” He’d try to coax them into shifting their attention to him, and once they did, he will be rather… harsh with them.

“Oh believe me… it is my business,” he’d smirk shifting his eye to you, sending you a brief look before averting them back to the other person, attempting to intimidate him further, “you see, if you don’t know me too well, I am the Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius. Seeing my own lover stuck in an unfortunate and unfair situation like this…” he shrugs, “it bothers me quite a lot.”

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

ITTO does not tolerate any sort of unfairness, not for those who he even does not know well, but more so when it comes to his own loved ones—especially you.

Although even if he does try to defend you, in the end, you’ll be left worrying for him because he might be the one ending up in jail because he’s being loud and looking like he’s instigating a fight. If the Tenryou Commission sees you like this…

“Hun! I don’t understand!” He whines, “Why in the world are we running right now?”

“Because!” You heaved out a frustrated groan, “the moment the Tenryou Commission hears that you’re causing a scene, who knows what will happen! Just trust me, okay?!”

It was exhausting running like that but… well, he did defend you from that man that tried to instigate you were in the wrong earlier, so you might as well just reward him with cuddles later.

But maybe after getting away from Narukami Island in the meantime.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

HEIZOU is good at sensing something before anything ever happens. But this. This happens so suddenly, almost like a blink of an eye, and it took him by surprise.

“Hey you! Y/n’s in trouble, you should go and check it out.”

Those were Kujou Sara’s words and when he heard them, he could see the worry in her eyes, and how she wanted him to judge the situation himself.

He was… conflicted.

Of course, he would be biased over you. Just seeing you being shouted at by someone else makes his blood boil and want to hurry and charge the other person with anything.

But of course… he has to keep it cool.

“I see… so that is the case…” he nods and keeps the slyness in his voice, but he was making sure that he was in between you and the other person, keeping up a front before momentarily sending a wink your way.

And maybe he can charge them with... something that would not let them out of jail any time soon.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

GOROU was quite taken aback. For one, he had never expected that there would be anyone complaining about you, all the more, he does not know what to do, especially when it comes to you.

“From how I’ve known Y/n, this is not what they’re like-“

“General Gorou! Aren’t you supposed to judge us fairly? How can you judge us fairly when they are your lover!”

He bites at his lower lip, chewing them as he ponders. And worries.

“Ah! You guys! How could you say that to the general! For all we know, you’re the ones being unfair to the general’s lover!” The other soldiers began to join in, “And besides, Y/n is known for being kind and sweet, the general wouldn’t have fallen for them if they are bad! Clearly, you’re the ones that are lying!”

“How did you even know? We didn’t even know you were acquainted with the general’s lover!” Says the other side.

Gorou would’ve silenced everyone else, but he stiffens when someone else adds on;

“Well, the general often gushes about their kindness and sweetness, let’s not distrust the general like that!”

It wasn’t enough that almost all the soldiers knew about his “gushing” towards his own lover… but you had to hear it too as you were standing right in front of him.

And as if you weren’t just in the middle of a difficult situation, you send him a look, one that had him looking away in embarrassment.

Ah, he is definitely gushing over you right now.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

DILUC is quite protective, of the people of Mondstadt and of course of those who are a part of his “family”—which includes his employees in Angel’s share and you, of course.

“Have you no shame? This is not the right place for you to quarrel about these things.”

“What business do you have–Mr. Ragnvindr?!”

Diluc raises a brow and continues to do so as the other person tried to explain his side and acted as if he was the one on the right, “This… Y/n over here-”

“Stop right there,” his glare intensifies—how dare this man to speak your name in such a harsh manner? If only he could burn this man even for a little— “I will not tolerate any lies that are spoken about my significant other. I’ll personally investigate about this and if I ever find you at fault in any way,” he pauses, his eyes gleaming, “I’ll hand you over to the Knights of Favonius myself. Or would you prefer in front of monsters in the middle of the wild?”

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

CYNO has never been in a situation like this before—maybe a few times, but not to the point that he got emotionally invested in it which momentarily took his clear thinking away.

“What is the meaning of this? Have you lost your mind?” He glares at everyone—but really, he’s not mad at you.

“Yelling inside the akademia grounds. This is not the right place and tme for you to be shameless.>:

Ah, you think, he is definitely mad.

Yet why is he making his way over you? Is he perhaps mad at you?

He tugs you over to his side and you could only watch as he proceeds to nag at them, scolding them with his arms crossed over his chest and looking down at them.

Maybe… he isn’t mad at you.

He definitely isn’t.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

CHILDE is highly protective of his family. And of course, that includes you.

“I believe we can discuss this calmly, don’t you think… sir?” he tried to use his charm first—of course, he couldn’t start a fight when everyone is here to witness his every move.

But of course, his patience is not that big either, especially when it comes to you. How dare this guy to bully you like this? Isn’t it understandable if he begins to show his anger at this point?

Well, reputations be damned.

“Actually, why don’t we talk about this… privately?” he flashes a sweet smile—but you recognized it in an instant.

He’s definitely not leaning into the other person and whispering something next to his ear, only for the other to flash a horrified look—what did Childe say?

Well, you’re not even curious at this point…

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

AYATO was raised in a good family, one that he continues to uphold even to his work—his surname is his work, and that was enough to describe him as a Yashiro Commissioner.

“Stop what you are doing right this instant.”

“Who are you to say this? They are my child.”

“But they are not a child anymore.”

You could tell that the pressure in the atmosphere was already beginning to thicken every second that passed.

“Y/n,” he turns to you, but his grim face drastically changes and molds into one with a reassuring smile, “darling, shall we go?” He offers his hand, and you were about to take it when-

“Hey, you! You can’t go! We’re not yet done talking-!”

Instinctively, you took his hand and he instantly pulls you to his side.

Anything else didn’t matter to you at this point, because with him by your side, you felt at peace and safer than the other days of your life.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

ALBEDO is not someone who gets “feelings” on the way of solving problems.

He definitely isn’t, but he would do anything to defend you—well, isn’t it logical to do anything for someone you love?

“Oh? You must be the genius alchemist!”

When the other person deliberately ignored you after shouting and scolding you for the longest time before he had the chance to go over to your side. Yet before he can even get the gist of what was happening, the other person starts to… try to humiliate you in front of him.

“Hm… Is that so?”

He even has the nerve to act like he was pondering over something.

“How about you, sweetheart? Do you have anything to say?” you could see the surprise in the other person’s face, most likely realizing something.

“Sweetheart…?”

“Well, it’s not like I will side with you or anything… mister…? I don’t even know your name. Pardon me.” Albedo smiles—a taunting one, you could tell.

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#genshin x reader #xiao x reader #scaramouche x reader #kazuha x reader #albedo x reader #heizou x reader #zhongli x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #childe x reader #cyno x reader #ayato x reader #gorou x reader #itto x reader #thoma x reader #venti x reader #blue's works

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zuhuan · 6 months

Text

Jujutsu Kaisen men x S/O on their period

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Megumi Fushiguro, Choso Kamo

Summary: Your beloved helps with your period.

Genre: fluff, comfort (!mentions of blood!nausea!)

COMMISIONS -> open

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Gojo Satoru:

• It's only natural that your period came at the worst possible time. You are at school until late this afternoon and you even have club activities after classes. You wrote to Gojo that you had your period. He responded like "Oh, thank God."

• You yelled at him for not showing empathy, but then he took matters into his own hands. He knew how much you were suffering at this time, so he asked you out of Jujutsu High School and you went home. On the way home, he went to the nearby convenience store to buy some snack, pads and all the necessary things. Your boyfriend doesn't care that other people think it's weird that he has to buy feminine hygiene products.

• He use his warm hands instead of the heating pad. He would gently pull you close, wrap his arms around you and caress you.

• Gojo takes advantage of the fact that you want to cuddle and just lie down all day, but if you ask for anything, he will help you immediately.

• "Fuuckk... I'm in so much pain... everything hurts." He would ask if you would like to take the medicine. With a glass of water and the medicine in hand, he would kneel beside you by the bed and help you swallow the medicine.

• After you take it, he will lie down next to you and let you fall asleep in a position that is comfortable for you while caressing your face and back. "Rest my love." And he kisses you.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Nanami Kento:

• Knows in advance when your period will come, keeps a calendar about it and monitors whether everything is in order.

• He is the type of- "Angel, your period is coming soon, do you have everything you need?" (omg I need a man like him)

• If you don't feel like eating, or you can't because you're feeling nauseous, he won't force you to eat, but he'll still cook you heavenly delicious food in case you feel hungry later.

• If you accidentally get your period in your sleep and he wake up first in the morning and find blood on your bedclothes and panties, he tries to wake you up and lead you out of the room so that you don't notice. He knows how uncomfortable you feel at this time.

• Nanami isn't a huge fan of physical touch, but he puts it aside and hugs and kisses you. He would be more attentive to you and call you cute names much more during this time (which of course pleases both him and you). On such names as "My precious, My little bunny, My only love."

• He would definitely ask if everything is okay down there and if there was anything unusual.

• You will be in very good hands with him and you will be completely pampered.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Megumi Fushiguro:

• Megumi is already very skilled at this. He learned all this on his own just for you. He also keeps track of when your period will come and when it should end in a calendar. He handles your mood swings well and always tries to cheer you up depending on the situation.

• When he sees that you are suffering a lot, he slowly sits down next to you, asking if he can do something for you. You shake your head and turn away from him. "Honey I want to help you." Megumi's face starts to fill with worry and he hugs you from behind. He would gently kiss your temples and neck while you feel his warm breath and the feeling runs down your spine.

• It is not awkward for him to talk to you about whether everything is fine with your period.

• He would cook you your favorite kind of instant noodles (because he knows you love it) and you would eat it snuggled up on the sofa. He always makes sure you stay hydrated and eat enough. He will only let you take the medicine if you have eaten before! If you manage to fall asleep, he will carry you to your shared bedroom on tiptoe and cover you with many blankets so you don't get cold.

• Before getting into bed next to you, Megumi prepares the heating pad and carefully places it next to your stomach and his hands on it so as not to wake you up.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Choso Kamo:

• He knows blood well, so he can perfectly sense when your period is coming. But he is not a great expert in the biological process itself. He is trying his best to help you through this period.

• He would make you hot tea and a few bites of food. You told him earlier that you are very nauseous, so he is afraid that if you eat too much you might throw up. Well, you didn't even have to eat a bite and you already ran to the toilet because you had to throw up. Choso wouldn't be scared of the situation, he would be there by your side stroking your back and holding your hair back. He would calm you down with kind words. "You're good my love, don't worry I'm here for you. I love you." After you were done, he helped you clean up.

• You would feel like a baby (here you can see what a good father he would be).

• He would ease your pain by caressing your whole body while holding you in his warm and comfortable arms until you fall asleep.

• If it were so difficult for you to move that you couldn't even clean yourself, he wouldn't let you, especially during this period. Your boyfriend would help you undress and get into the tub and give you a nice massage while he bathes you (nothing dirty).

• He would let you hang on him like a little koala. He would caress your face and then kiss you and try to distract you from your pain. He is the perfect companion in such a situation. Let's protect this man at all costs!

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sophiethewitch1 · 2 months

Note

G & T for Dick please? Congrats on 1k!

Warnings: SFW, gen yandere behaviour, suicide mention, dick's kind of pathetic lmfao, I don't know what a paragraph break is <3

G = Game (Is Every Move Meticulously Orchestrated, Turning the Pursuit Into a Twisted Game? Do They Derive Pleasure From Watching Their Darling Attempt Escape?):

Dick: One thing you have to get about Dick is that he takes everything with you very seriously. Like, obviously he’s joking around (the sight of your laughing face is etched into his brain with a hammer) but he considers your relationship very important, that it requires a lot of care. He doesn’t think it’s a game. He doesn’t think you’re a game. But, he does probably… definitely puts too much thought into your every little interaction. He’s a thinker. He’s always going over your interactions, wondering if you would’ve found A) joke funnier or if B) joke was the way to go. He chooses when to flirt, when to push, when to pull back when it’s needed too. And it’s all subconscious. He’s not even really aware that he thinks of your relationship the same way he thinks about missions, about fights. And also, he finds the idea of wanting to ‘escape’ him heart-wrenching. He’s desperate to be seen in a good light by you, desperate to be likable, lovable. And you disliked him so much you ran away? He probably tries to stay away after you do. He manages for a little while until he eventually appears on your doorstep begging you to take him back. And if you say no, he only gets more desperate. This is about where you see Dick go fully mad trying to appease you. Where you’ll see himself throw himself at you again and again, trying to see what sticks. He really will just keep trying. About till he drops dead from his own unbearable yearning, cause he’s dramatic like that.

T = Tears (Does the Sight of Their Darling's Suffering Evoke a Twisted Pleasure, a Morbid Satisfaction Reinforcing Their Control?):

Dick: Oh, you’re crying. Oh. You. Are. Crying. Instant breakdown. This is literally his worst nightmare. He wants you happy, and unless your tears are from joy or pleasure, he will probably actually kill himself. No, no, he’ll just want to do it really bad, but he has to make it up to you. Right then and there, through his own tears, he’s asking how he can fix it, what he needs to do to make it up to you. Now if you told him to kill himself, he’d probably do it then. Absolutely anything to make sure you’re smiling again. If you are kind enough not to immediately ask him to commit honourable suicide, he will spend the rest of his life making it up to you. Anytime you want anything from him, even hinting at the time you cried has him ready to go to the ends of earth for you again. Just, god, please don’t start crying again. He thinks he’ll have a heart attack. He also thinks he’d deserve it, though.

#Event:1kCelebration #yandere batfam #batfam x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #hes so cute to me (snotty whimpering mess)

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mrs-weasley-reid · 1 year

Text

Unnecessary

(Spencer Reid x fem!reader)

Summary: In which BAU fem!reader silently suffers an unnecessary heartbreak over Spencer Reid’s “crush” on Agent Seaver.

WARNING: little angst, a nice fluff at the end <3

"Oh my god! You do think she's pretty!" Penelope squealed on what surprisingly seemed to be both a whisper and a shout as she walked alongside Spencer.

"I didn't say that. In fact, I didn't say anything." Spencer defended, clutching the strap of his messenger bag as he held himself back from glancing at your direction. He fought the redness to flow on his cheeks, averting his eyes at every possible object except Penelope's.

Derek immediately turned to you with a pitiful gaze. You gave him a tight-lipped smile, shrugging his concerns off. You never meant for him to find out. Emily and Derek were very different from each other and there were a good amount of people between them in your contacts, but it never stopped you from sending him your confession, thinking that you had sent it to Emily as you fell into a weightless slumber.

Nothing could describe your feeling when you found out the next morning, reading his reply:

—well, that's an interesting way to finally start a conversation that's not about work.

The sun and moon were dragged down to earth when you begged him to keep his flirty little mouth shut or you wouldn't hesitate to take him as your first deranged kill.

"You like her!" Penelope added, pushing Spencer's scrawny build with such force he almost flew down the small flight of stairs. “Is it her beautiful eyes? She has pretty eyes. I gotta hand her that. I like her eyes.”

You managed to hold your breath, gripping the file in your hand, your knuckles turning white. You didn't hate Penelope. You love her with all your heart and soul and reason that she didn't know anything about your massive attraction to Spencer. You love her sweet smile, amorous words, and eccentricity, but you wanted to push her down the stairs at that moment. You wanted her to stop talking.

"Alright, now, babygirl. Enough torturing pretty boy. We have a plane to catch." Derek wrapped an arm around Penelope's shoulder and you were certain that he meant she was torturing you rather than the boy genius.

Penelope knitted her brows, "What? You never defended Reid about this kinds of stuff. You know something and you will tell me this instant." She pointed her fluffy pen towards him like a knife.

You walked around them, fighting the urge to scowl or show any type of emotion, at all. What made your mood worst was when you had to share the elevator with Spencer. Emily was with the two of you, but still, it was suffocating just the same.

"A serial killer's daughter? That's gotta be the biggest risk this team has taken." Emily crossed her arms on her chest as she sighed.

"I'm sure she's just as capable as all of us. Hotch wouldn't have approved it if she wasn't any help to the team." Spencer replied, a little too fast than you would've preferred. You were thankful to stand behind them, having the ability to hide your sullen face.

You couldn't help but agree with Spencer. Despite the sinking feeling that hurled in the pit of your stomach, your logical reasoning never failed to keep you away from irrationality. It felt like you were stabbing yourself, though.

Emily looked behind you, "What do you think?"

A weak smile rolled over your lips, swallowing the lump of nothing that sat in your throat. "I think fresh eyes are always helpful." Just not Seaver’s oh so beautiful eyes. Of course, you couldn’t say the last part. You would’ve sounded like an idiot.

"Yeah," Spencer stated defensively. "Having a combination gene that's vulnerable to schizophrenia doesn't mean you'll develop one."

"Reid, I'm not saying she's a serial killer." Emily let her arms fall on her sides, giving him a worried look.

Spencer sighed, finally letting go of his suffocated bag strap. "I know... I just think it's unfair." He gave her a tight-lipped smile, and you wanted to embrace him even if he wasn’t directly talking to you.

Emily snorted, "I guess Garcia is right. You do like Seaver—" She shut her mouth at the realization of your presence. Sometimes she just couldn't hold her tongue and today was one of the days she wanted to chop them off.

She glanced at you with an apologetic smile, but you dismissed it with a silent laugh. It was making you tired. The act of smiling or laughing their guilty looks off. The ache was starting to swell.

In your opinion, it was plainly stupid. Your feelings for Spencer, that is. After joining the BAU as one of the youngest member of the team, you immediately felt drawn to Spencer. Of course, it was a form of friendship at first, but as they say, girls develop faster than boys. It wasn't accurate. You knew that. But it applied just the same.

You quickly got off when the elevator dinged open, turning to face the two of them. "Forgot something in my apartment. I'll see you at the jet!" You waved with the happiest smile you could muster and ran to your car.

The moment you sat on the driver's seat and buckled up, tears fell like a dam crumbling down. You didn't know why it hurt you. It wasn't like you told Spencer how you felt. He was ever oblivious contrary to his IQ.

It wasn't a big deal, you badly wanted it not to be. Spencer simply felt relatable to Ashley. That was understandable, reasonable. And you, of all people, understood it very well. It wasn't like Spencer declared his undying love for her. But you just couldn't help but feel jealous and depressed.

A hand covered your mouth as you fought the sobs that escaped your lips. You couldn't blame anyone, not even yourself. And that was the most painful part. No one to get mad at. No one to curse.

— ✿ — ✿— ✿ ✿ ✿

"Stop gawking." You muttered as you watched the rapid residential image slide in and out of your vision.

Derek scoffed, "I'm not gawking."

You sat up straight on the passenger seat and turned to him. "Your stare can bore holes on my head." You said unimpressively, leaning your head against the headrest.

Hotch assigned the two of you to visit the family of the victim, and as if you didn't just bawled on your way to the airport, you nodded. You were silently thankful for everyone to leave you alone. Granted, you worked with profilers, but they didn't need their skills to notice the redness and puffiness under your eyes.

"Okay fine." Derek glanced at you then back to the road. "But you have to stop acting like you're okay."

You snorted a laugh, much to his dismay and confusion. "That's the thing, though, isn't it? I have to be okay. I need to do my job and it's not like he did something wrong. There's nothing to be not okay about." You sighed, pushing your hair to the back of your head.

"Garcia was just teasing him, anyways. Reid probably doesn't think Seaver's a woman." He attempted to joke, anticipating for a genuine smile or laugh from your end.

"It's fine, Morgan. I know I'm not exactly the first girl a guy would land his eyes on in a room full of people. Reid's a guy through and through, 187 IQ or not. And Seaver is pretty. I'm not going to lie about that. I know how to appreciate beauty when I see it." You sighed, shoulders faltering as you stared straight on the road to keep yourself from showing any emotions.

The SUV stopped, Derek turning off the engine as you glance at the house in front of you. "Then, maybe it's time for you to tell him how you feel." He said, looking straight at you.

"And what?" You unbuckled your seatbelt, avoiding his gaze. "Jeopardize the team's workplace? Ruin Spencer and I's distant relationship? Or get cut off the team by Strauss for fraternizing? It's not that easy Derek." You covered your face with your hands, gulping the tears that were threatening to slide down your cheeks.

"To get yourself some clarity." Derek placed a hand on your shoulder. You removed your hands and looked at his assuring smile. "You can't let the darkness bury you, Bambi. You have to let it go at some point.” He squeezed your shoulder lightly before he added, “And you’re a beautiful woman. Don’t ever think otherwise."

You smiled at his gentle use of his choice of nickname for you. He has called you “bambi” for years and at some point, it grew into you. Despite his flirty tendencies, Derek was a great guy and he has been the closest thing to a brother you could ever find.

"Who knew Mr. Playboy gives love advice?" You kidded, a playful smirk appearing on your face.

Derek rolled his eyes and tapped your shoulder before stepping out of the car.

— ✿ — ✿— ✿ ✿ ✿

As soon as the jet landed, you immediately strode out of it. You got the approval from Hotch to head straight home, despite having three more hours left on clock.

What you didn't expect was for Spencer to follow you, scream your name, and hold your wrist. You stood dumbfounded in front of him.

"Reid..." You trailed off, not entirely sure what you wanted to say to him.

Spencer gasped for air, one hand on his chest and the other held your wrist, afraid to let you go. Usually, you would've panicked inside your head and blew up from the hotness of your cheeks, but not right now. Right now, you felt like throwing up. You felt nauseous at the bare sight of him.

"I've been calling you." He managed to gasp out, now pushing his hair with his free hand.

"Oh," you said less enthusiastic than you planned. "Did you need anything?" You watched as he steadied himself, controlling his breath a little better.

Spencer nodded, "Yeah, you." He smiled.

Shit.

If Spencer was seconds away from collapsing due to shortness of breath, you played it as a sport. Your breath hitched ever so subtly. You couldn't believe how much this man could make your heart skip a beat all while breaking it without wasting a single breath. Not that he did it on purpose.

"I know you love the tenth doctor because of David Tennant, and just so happens, I'm going to a convention that he's attending to. And I have an extra ticket!" Spencer beamed, squeezing your wrist subconsciously from excitement. His smile was so wide and handsome. His short hair was soft and messy.

"I can't."

It ached. The mere act of rejecting his invitation made you want to bang your head on a wall for crushing his innocent smile.

"Why?" He questioned, squinting, hand still wrapped around you wrist.

"I-I just can't that day—"

"You don't even know when it is. I didn't mention it."

"Take someone else? Why not, Seaver? I'm sure she'll—"

"She's not a David Tennant fan from what I concluded. She doesn’t even know what Doctor Who is. And I just met her today, she's a stranger."

"Penelope likes—"

"Are you mad at me?" Spencer's tone was different. The kind he only uses when he was frustrated and upset at the same time.

"No!" You exclaimed in a rush, finally looking at his chocolate stare that made you melt instead of the other way around.

Spencer's grip on your wrist tightened a little more, locking your gaze no matter how much you try to avoid his. "Then, why have you been avoiding me the whole week? I know you cried and I wanted to ask, but you always avoided me. I’ve been worried, so inviting you five months early for a convention seemed like a nice way to cheer you up. But you don’t want to come with me to see David Tennant. You would've choked me by now if I told you I'm going to see him and you're not invited. So I can only assume that you’re mad at me." A slight anger laid underneath his tone and even if you caught up to that, you didn't understand why.

You sighed, closing your eyes agonizingly. Derek was right. You had to let your feelings out or it would make you explode. And with your current situation, you’re already ruining your friendship with Spencer, so why not? When you gained vision once again, you twisted your wrist and held his own.

"I love you."

Silence enveloped the both of you for five seconds until your anxiety took over you.

"No, wait. Too advanced. I meant, I love you, like I have special feelings for you. Wait. No. I mean, I like you. Yeah. That. I like you. Hold on. That's too vague. I like you more than a friend. Like I want to kiss you type of like. Not I like your personality. Wait, I do like your personality. I just meant—"

"I love you too."

Your lips halted, and you stared at him with your mouth agape. "Wait..."

Spencer smiled and pulled you in, closing the little gap by connecting your lips. You didn't know what to do. Your body froze, arms falling limp on your sides. And soon you melted in his touch. One hand on your cheek and the other at the small of your back, keeping you close to him.

He pulled away with the same soft smile, "I bought the tickets, so I can take you, not some random girl I just met. Not Garcia, who helped me searched the internet for the tickets." Spencer kissed the tip of your nose.

"But— Seaver—" You couldn't form a sentence. Your brain was still foggy from his confession.

"Garcia was teasing me because I won't tell her who the other ticket was for." Spencer briefly explained. "And I was hoping I could ask you out to go with me to see David Tennant on our first date..." He trailed off, a huge grin over his face as he unravel his little plan for you. "Then, maybe ask you out for a second date. One that you actually know that it's a date."

The corner of your lips slowly curved. A laughed roaring out of you as you leaned your forehead against his chest. "I was so ready to push you to another woman, because I thought you didn't like me." You playfully slapped his chest.

"I thought you didn't, until you told Morgan." Spencer chuckled.

Your eyes blew wide, swiftly looking up at him. "He told you?!"

He immediately shook his head, "No! No..." His arms snaked around your waist, just in case you storm off and beat Derek up. "I was with him that night, when you texted him. He went to the restroom and left his phone on the table. I didn't mean to read it, but his phone vibrated loudly and, well, I read too fast."

"I..." You didn't know what to say, and the burning on your cheeks weren't helping either.

"The funny thing was," Spencer rested his forehead on yours, leaving a soft kiss on your lips. "I was with Morgan, because I needed to tell someone about my feelings for you. It kept me awake at night and weirdly energetic than usual during the day."

You chuckled, "You're down bad."

Spencer scoffed, pulling you closer. "Says, you."

#spencer x reader #spencer reid #spencerreid #fem!reader #criminal minds #criminalminds #spencer reid x fem!readr #x reader #cm #spencer reid fluff #fluff #criminal minds fanfiction

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maybeitsalivescribbles · 4 months

Text

TTD - Dastardly Hug

Being a hero had its inconveniences. You could be called for help at any hour, you could be harassed by any angry civilian because you didn’t do a good enough job, or of course you could be hit and killed by some villain on the loose.

However, what worried Hero at the moment was the paperwork. It was the dreaded time of the month when they had to log in the agency website and describe every one of their good deeds to be paid. It had taken a bunch of tries to finally access their account, and now they were wondering if bringing a dog back to its family counted as “security” (the dog was certainly safer inside the house) or as “improving the well-being of citizens” (a category that could embrace all kinds of actions, to helping an old lady to cross the street from stopping the apocalypse – who designed these things ?).

Behind their back, the door creaked in an ominous way (they really needed to lubricate the hinges). For a brief instant they fervently hoped that it was only a gust of wind, but the light of the room suddenly went off. They sighed and saved their progress while their roommate solemnly declared:

“I am darkness. I am the creeping blackness that cannot be killed by any light.”

“Sure, but I’m certain you still will be in fifteen minutes. Can you come back then ? I’m doing paperwork.”

“You wish to surrender to the horrors of bureaucracy rather than mine?”

“I don’t wish it, but we kinda need the money, you know. What did you want ?”

“Why, tis but a common reminder to surrender in my presence that should strike fear and reverence in your heart. Every activity of yours should pale into insignificance.”

“Can you be more precise ?”

“I’ve come for intimidation and invasion of your personal space.”

Hero looked at the screen of their computer. It had been already two hours since they began. Oh, fuck it.

“Yeah, okay.”

They patted their knee and extended one arm. For a moment, they couldn’t see anything, then they felt the weight of a person on their lap and a head on their shoulder. It was impossible to see the shape of the silhouette huddled up them, only a vague black cloud, but it wasn’t a problem. They were getting used to it by now. They closed their arms gently until their fingers met a back, that they rubbed.

“You have so many knots.”

“It’s because I’m very twisted.”

“Maybe you should straighten your back more.”

Former Villain shrugged and didn’t answer. They both stayed like that for a while, silent and quiet.

“Hero ?”

“Yes ?”

“You wouldn’t hurt me, would you ?”

Hero’s hand froze on their roommate’s back.

“Why would I do that ?”

“Just checking.”

“Of course I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Still no answer. Fingers clutched at their shirt, almost desperately. Hero knew by now that asking if their roommate was okay was a lost cause. They never answered in a straight manner. So, after clearing their throat, they awkwardly said:

“Uh, if you let me suffer into the hands of the bureaucracy for a little while, you could beat me to video games if you want to. Or we can watch a movie together. But, uh, in a really evil way ?”

“In a really evil way ?”

“I don’t know, I try to make it sound appealing to you.”

“You’re terrible at it. Nevertheless, I will graciously accept your request.”

“How kind.”

After a moment, Former Villain slid from their lap and went out. Hero didn’t turn back to their paperwork immediately. The truth was that despite Villain being their roommate, they didn’t know much about them. Who needed to pretend that wanting a hug was very evil, and what kind of past did they have ?

Check the These Two Dorks Masterlist or Tag for more snippets with this Hero and Villain. This is how they met and now they’re roommates.

Or back to Hero x Villain Masterlist.

#villain and hero #hero villain community #writeblr #writers on tumblr #original fiction #my writing #writing snippet #writing drabble #fluff #writing dialogue #creative writing #these two dorks #heroes and villains #hero and villain #hero x villain #platonic relationships #aroace oc #In which Villain asks and receives a dastardly hug #Hero already had cats before so they don’t mind

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igotanidea · 5 months

Text

Scarf: Dick Grayson x reader

Christmas bingo day 10 : scarf

***

She was always in a hurry.

One place one second and the other a second later.

Rushing through her to do list and tasks without a moment to calm down and take a breath, with a heart of gold and hands always willing to help, no matter if it was a stranger or a friend.

A very busy and a very needed girl with a mission.

Just like it goes in a classic song: like a wind.

And Christmas time was always the busiest.

There were so many people who needed support and sometimes as little and as much as some time spend with them and someone to talk to.

So obviously Y/N volunteered for some work at animal shelter (much to Damian’s hidden joy when she took him with her one day), joined a preparation for food and gift packages for the poorest families and self- made some soft toys for kids at the orphanage.

However, her conscience and sensitivity never seemed to rest.

No matter how many people smiled and felt better because of her, she always had this sense of “not-enoughness”. How could she possibly smile, how could she possibly rest and enjoy the Christmas time when there might be someone, a kid or an animal who was hungry or cold or-

“Y/N.”

“Hmm-?” she raised her gaze from the desk, which she accidentally fell asleep on just for a moment. This was not planned, but apparently her tired and stressed organism knew better what it needed. “Yeah? What is it Dick?”

“What are you doing, babe?” he crouched next to her, looking into her sleepy eyes and cupping her reddened cheek with love and affection but also with growing concern.

“At the moment I’m-“ she started but was almost immediately cut off.

“Not at the moment love. Generally.”

“Generally?” she frowned, sleepiness going away in an instant as she couldn’t understand the words coming out of Dick’s mouth “what do you mean?”

“You can’t possibly save everyone sunshine.”

“I know.” She looked down as if he said something hurtful, even if it was simple truth.

“You’re already doing so much love….”

“But what if-?”

“Hush baby.” He put a finger on her lips cutting her off “Enough. You’re going to get a proper sleep. In a bed. Preferably next to me.”

“But-“

“It’s not a question, Y/n. You’re going to let me take care of you now. Because you need it. Because you deserve it. And most of all – because I said so, cause I can’t let my girlfriend overwork herself.”

“But Dick!”

“Don’t Dick me, princess.” He picked her up from behind the desk and carried her to the bedroom without any problems due to the fact that instinctively she leaned into him, letting him spoil her a bit. Just for some time. Just for some time everything was good. She was safe and the world was a perfect place with no problems and troubles and suffering people as she was falling asleep in his loving, warm embrace.

***

For next few days Dick was her shadow, following her to every place and shelter and orphanage in the city, helping, carrying bags and doing pretty much everything to be at least a bit useful.

And, since he got tons of friends, titans and other superheroes, suddenly there were so many people to help that at some point it was hard to actually find something to do for them. Dick was beaming that he was doing something good for the community, sure, after all he was nearly as much of a goody two-shoes as his girlfriend.

But there was a little bit of selfishness in his actions, even if he would never say it out loud.

The way she was smiling.

No, cut that, she was beaming having so many helpers to coordinate and make Christmas miracle happen. Her eyes, her face even the roots of hair seemed to just radiate positive energy. And dick was just standing in a spot with his feet rooted to the ground watching her. His perfectly perfect, quicksilver, idealistic girlfriend.

“Penny for your thoughts?” a pair of arms wrapped around his waist unexpectedly.

“I love you.” He muttered, kissing her forehead. And her nose. And her cheek. “god, you have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

“Absolutely no idea. Should I apologise?” she teased “I didn’t do it on purpose I swear.”

“damn it, Y/n. You can do nothing wrong in my eyes, baby. You’re an angel.”

“Don’t know about that, but-“

“But I guess even an angel needs someone to look after her” he smiled brushing hair from her forehead “And I’m more than honored to take that position.”

“what position?” she frowned

“person to take care of you when you forgot about yourself” Dick fixed her coat and wrapped the scarf tighter around her making sure she was not cold “person to hold you and love you and keep you safe when you’re too busy watching over your wards” he caressed her cheek “I want to do this for the rest of my life if you’ll let me.” He whispered leaning forward and looking into her eyes “Y/N… my love… I couldn’t live without you. I – I want to ask you to - ” he stuttered, a bit scared to ask the obvious question.

“Is that your Christmas wish?” she whispered getting his intention even without words.

He nodded, his throat clenched because of all the emotions – and possibly because Wally was staring at him from the distance, like he just grew a pair of antlers or a tail. Please, god, please, make her say yes….

“I do.” She muttered leaning to give him a simple peck on the lips. “Yes, Dick. Yes.”

It was official.

He was the luckiest man on earth.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #nightwing x y/n #nightwing fluff #dick grayson fluff #christmas bingo

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yuri-is-online · 1 year

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Well Maybe the Octopus was Being a Dick! (Or Tsunotarou tries to do Yu a solid but he misunderstood a joke) pt. 2

A/N: Left some boys out of part one so have some more crack

Pt. 1

“Refuses to take responsibility for this”- Idia

He’s too busy screaming to listen to what Malleus is saying because he’s too busy trying to figure out how he got into his room. Malleus thinks that Idia is just suffering from some nerves and offers to pretend to be the child of man so he can practice… fighting fish for the prefect’s affection? Outright refuses but it just comes off as him being too shy again, aaaand now he’s somehow been dragged to an aquarium on a practice date with Malleus who keeps insisting his childlike wonder is just him pretending to be the prefect. At least Ortho is having the time of his life. Maybe he can just convince you to come over and play some VR, he really needs to decompress after this.

“Wait don’t ask another guy I’ll do it”- Ace, Deuce, Kalim

Duece and Kalim both take what Malleus is saying extremely seriously and are equally distraught. Deuce wants to be with you as the best possible version of himself, and that means putting his violent past behind him. He did just learn how to make mackerel curry though, so maybe that counts? He can practice fileting fish and hope you think the effort is cute. Kalim really likes animals so the thought of hurting fish isn’t… ideal but hey maybe he just misheard Malleus and you just really like aquariums. Yeah that’s got to be it! There’s absolutely no way Malleus of all people could have misunderstood things in the first place, he’s too smart for that. Ace sees this as a GOLDEN opportunity to make fun of you and the two of you have a bit of fun clowning around until you make the mistake of whining about how he wouldn’t fight one measly fish and he responds by saying he’d take a bullet for you with zero hesitation and completely seriously.

Yeah it’s going to take a while for you both to reset after this one.

“That’s a magicam moment babe”- Cater, Jamil

Both of these guys pay enough attention to trends to have at least an idea that Malleus might be taking a meme literally. Cater thinks it’s a cute joke he can make a magicam post about, and it gives him an excuse to flirt with juuust enough plausible deniability he can save himself if it proves too embarrassing. Jamil simply says he doesn’t need to rely on fleeting internet trends to win your affection. Aquariums are a nice place for a date though so he thanks Malleus for the idea.

“PLEASE ask him to kill for you”- Epel, Lilia

Epel absolutely has a list of wild animals he could protect the prefect from and you can’t convince me otherwise. He’s a bit iffy on where he ranks fish after meeting the Leech twins, but as long as your favorite isn’t an eel he is rip raring to go, just ignore that weird shadow in your peripheral vision that definitely isn’t Vil waiting to swoop. Lilia is, obviously, aware that Malleus is misinterpreting a joke. He’s just really attached to the image of you hanging off of him like the protagonist on the front cover of a really steamy romance novel while he fights off a salmon or something. He has one of those open chested pirate shirts allll ready to go just say the word.

“IF WAKA-SAMA SAID IT, IT MUST BE TRUE”- SEBEK, Silver

“Silver?” I hear you ask in disbelief. Yes. He was raised by Lilia in the middle of the woods and his main source of interaction with humans before attending NRC was apparently just Sebek’s dad. He thinks very highly of Malleus and doesn’t think he’d be lying, but he assumes given how much animals like him it’s you who intend to do the fighting so he shows up to Ramshackle to assure you that isn’t necessary. You already have his affections.

You know damn well Sebek is climbing into that tank the instant you say something about liking one of the fish. Malleus gave him instructions on how to court you and he will be cold and dead in his grave before he disobeys a direct order from his lord. Also refuses to believe you when you say Malleus misunderstood even after his Lord apologizes for accidentally getting him banned from the aquarium for life. For the sake of Malleus’s pride or his you have no idea.

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somedaylazysomeday · 2 months

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A Boon - Part Six

A sleepless night looms ahead, but you don't want to fill it with conversation.

Thranduil x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI

Word Count: 3,800

Warnings: Teasing, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, emotional misunderstanding, emotional vulnerability

Previous | Masterlist

---

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed before Thranduil spoke again - minutes and hours meaningless in the darkness of the night.

“Will you still not tell me what steals your slumber?” Thranduil’s low voice rumbled, perfectly fitting the velvet shadows filling the room. “Unburdening yourself may help you sleep.”

You shook your head, knowing he could hear the motion as clearly as speech. “I doubt it. But perhaps you can help in a different way… if you are willing.”

There was a pause in which you prepared to assure him that he was under no obligation to you. But then Thranduil’s hand released yours to grasp your waist instead. In a fluid motion, he had rolled over to loom above you in the darkness.

“I would be a poor lover indeed if I allowed you to suffer when there is hope of providing respite.”

“So magnanimous,” you teased.

“Always,” he agreed, a bare instant before his lips brushed yours once and again, deepening into something tinged with urgency.

You melted eagerly into the kiss and wormed your way closer, welcoming every touch of your body against his. He was big and solid and so wonderfully warm, especially when he cradled your jaw in his hand to deepen the kiss further.

You hadn’t given much thought to where his other hand might be, not until you felt it high on your thigh and moving steadily inward. You gave a pleased little mutter and parted your legs so he could have space to move between them.

Thranduil’s hand was against the very heart of you, cupping your mound, but he had gone still. You could feel the way his middle finger was lying along your seam, but that finger was not pressing into your core and his palm was not pressing against your clit. Still, there was something oddly intense about the way he was holding you, his grip possessive as he claimed your mouth in a leisurely siege.

When his fingers did start moving, they were slow and gentle as they stroked your folds, teasing the most sensitive part of you. You were squirming under that attention, but unwilling to pull your lips from his to make a complaint. Thranduil finally took pity on you, sinking a finger deep into your heat.

Your body parted eagerly around the intrusion, pulling him deeper. The thickness of that single digit simultaneously felt like the greatest relief you had ever felt and not nearly enough for you.

When he stopped moving, your hips lifted to impale yourself more firmly. The heel of his hand was barely short of brushing your clit, and you could feel the heat of him so close… The stimulation it promised stayed tantalizingly out of reach, no matter how hard you tried to get there.

You were pouting into your kiss when Thranduil finally relented. That finger started pushing gently in and out of you, more of a stroking gesture than a true thrust, but it was enough to make your heart race.

Thranduil was a patient lover. He always had been, and it was one of his greatest strengths. He took his time, carefully drawing every bit of pleasure he could possibly plumb from your depth before he allowed either of you to rest. He had teased you in the past about the desperate speed of humans and how they could only hope to achieve the intensity of elven practices. It was maddening.

Fortunately, you had quickly figured out a particular quirk of Thranduil’s: when he was so deeply involved in teasing sensations out of you, he was susceptible to his own needs. He could fight off the draw of pleasure alone, but when that pleasure was dashed with just a hint of pain, it was as if his mind was taken over by the startling contrast.

With the way he was tormenting you, you could hardly be blamed for giving him a long stroke - fingers at the precise level of tightness that made him weak - even as you delivered a sharp nip to his lower lip.

Thranduil pulled away to release a harsh sound, a rough combination of shock and keen interest, and stared down at you with a sharp look in his eyes. Those eyes had a sudden wildness to them, the tremendous sense of age in them edged with something you could only describe as a blunt and determined sort of intensity.

He was going to take you apart, and you could think of nothing you wanted more.

When Thranduil started moving once again, there was nothing soft or gentle about it. His finger pulled free of you only for it to return with another. Those two fingers thrust deep without a moment’s hesitation, stretching you sharply as you gasped and arched helplessly against your pillows.

“Thranduil,” you gasped, clutching at the sheets, his arms… anything within reach that could possibly help you ground yourself against the feeling of his teasing fingers.

He glanced from between your legs and up to your face. His expression was light and joyful, utterly mischievous. “Yes, lover?”

Now that you had his attention, you were uncertain of what you might want with it. The best you could muster was a soft and trembling, “Please.”

Thranduil smiled, drawing another gasp as his fingers twisted inside of you. “Do not worry, little one. I know precisely what you need.”

With that vaguely threatening promise, Thranduil set to work pulling you apart. His fingers pushed and stroked, thumb teasing intermittently against your clit - no rhythm you could decipher with your preoccupied mind. That meant that you could not anticipate his movements, and you were left to Thranduil’s mercy as he worked you steadily toward an orgasm.

And it was no accident that Thranduil was not known for his mercy.

When you fell apart, you arched up off the bed, held in place only by Thranduil’s arm bracing your hips. Your hands were clutching desperately at his forearms, and it was a miracle that he didn’t seemed bothered by the way your nails were biting into his skin. Your legs slammed shut around his hand, holding him in place as your core worked to drag him deeper inside of you.

Thranduil worked you through it, movements steady and inexorable until you were quivering and breathless beneath him. Weakly, you pushed his hand away - though you had to remember to release it from the vice of your thighs first.

“Well, my queen?” Thranduil inquired, leaning over to study you from a closer angle. “Do you find yourself ready for sleep?”

You made a face at his teasing tone, but you did not truly mind it. He was subtly asking whether or not you wished to continue your activities. There were days on which you preferred to orgasm once (or not at all) and be done with things so that you did not become overstimulated. Fortunately, that tended not to happen with Thranduil.

“I am afraid not,” you told him with a sigh. “Though I understand if you are too tired to continue.”

It was a game between the two of you, just as much a part of your relationship as his proposals. Thranduil grinned at you, as delighted to play his part as he ever was. “Not so, little mortal. I am ever ready to ensure your satisfaction.”

You smiled back, but it was halfhearted. The endearment he had chosen struck a little too close to your preoccupied thoughts for comfort, and your urgency was genuine as you pulled him back down for another kiss.

There was a hesitation to Thranduil’s lips and you worried for a moment that he would pull away to ask what was wrong. That was a conversation you had no interest in having with him at that particular moment, so you slipped your tongue between Thranduil’s lips, dueling briefly with his until he seemed utterly distracted.

And then, just to be certain, you slung one of your legs over his narrow hips, repositioning yourself until you were straddling him. His length was pressed against you, insistent and impossible to ignore, but not breaching you.

You intended to fix that.

“Are- Are you ready?” you asked, trying not to openly pant. As was often the case with Thranduil, your orgasm had not quenched your thirst so much as piqued your hunger. The sight of him beneath you, his pretty hair spread across your pillows, made your body tighten with unmistakable need.

“For you?” Thranduil asked, and even in the handful of seconds since you had asked your question, you had already forgotten it. “Always.”

You pulsed your hips forward and back, the movements a mindless mimicry of the way Thranduil’s hips moved when he took you. Thranduil planted his heels on the bed and pushed upward, shoving himself more firmly against you until you remembered precisely what your question had been… and what his answer gave you permission to start doing.

When your hand wrapped around Thranduil’s length, he twitched and thrust into the air at the feeling. It took your full strength to push his hips back to the bed. Even then, you knew it was only because he allowed you to reposition him.

Your fingers around the base of Thranduil’s shaft held him in place as you pressed the broad head to your entrance. As always, he felt impossibly large as you lowered yourself onto him. Perhaps it was the position that always made you feel the burning stretch. More likely, it was that you were unable to slow your pace when you took him this way. You needed him now, not when your body said you could have him.

But he was barely inside of you before he was catching your hips, holding you in place and preventing you from sinking down in one desperate stroke. You made a wordless noise of frustration, opening your eyes to stare at him in confused irritation.

“Slowly, love, slowly,” he urged. “I want to feel you. I want you to feel me.”

You tried to ignore that direction, but Thranduil’s fingers were firm on your hips, guiding you achingly slowly downward. Even as your irritation grew toward the elvenking, you could not argue that this was more intense. Thranduil’s shaft seemed even more impossibly long this way, fed slowly into you bit by bit until it felt like he was stretching up inside your torso, fighting his way toward your heart.

The muscles of your core worked and gripped and twitched around him. Thranduil seemed as entranced as you were, his lips moving as if he was speaking softly, so softly that his words were completely inaudible to you.

When you were finally fully seated on him, feeling utterly impaled on the thick intrusion of his length inside of you, both of you made matching noises of inarticulate pleasure. You were unaware that your hands were braced against his chest until he gently cupped his over the back of one.

“Is there something you need to tell me?” you asked.

Thranduil looked at you with confusion, then with dawning delight. “Why, my queen. Are you asking for me to tell you how lovely I find you? Because I am happy to do so, though I will expect you to refrain from implying that I am the egotistical one in our relationship in the future…”

“No, you have full claim over any ego between us,” you countered immediately. It was difficult to think with his hardness buried so deeply inside of you, but this seemed important enough to gather whatever wits remained available to you. “I meant that you were saying something. I could not hear you, but I felt that I needed to.”

A wry expression twisted its way across Thranduil’s face. Worry grew in your stomach, and your voice was quiet when you asked, “Is it something so terrible?”

Thranduil shook his head, fingertips rising to keep your face aimed at his. “Not at all. I simply worry that you will realize that our shared pleasure is weighted in my favor. It is impossible that I can bring you pleasure equal to the pleasure you bring me.”

“Did we not just discuss ego?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“I believe you have no concept of the way you make me feel,” Thranduil said solemnly, light eyes locked with yours. You stilled, trying to decipher what he meant with this serious turn. You felt a stab of fear as you wondered whether Storr would be proved correct. This was just abrupt enough to be the start of the end of your relationship with Thranduil.

But then, the elvenking smiled. “Perhaps I am lucky in that. If you knew how utterly entrancing you are, I fear the power you would gain from the revelation.”

You chuckled with him, but you still felt odd. Unbalanced, somehow, by the unexpected gravity of the moment. Then Thranduil’s hand moved to your breast, thumb stroking over your nipple as he smiled gently up at you. “You are so beautiful. And clever enough to rule a kingdom while working on behalf of citizens who adore you. I knew you would be a wonderful queen, but I could never had expected so much.”

Normally, praise made you uncomfortable, particularly when it was as effusive as this. For some reason, you soaked in Thranduil’s words and felt the weight of them impact your soul. You were a wonderful queen. And you were clever and beautiful enough to bring Thranduil to his knees. Proverbially speaking, of course - you liked him exactly where he was at the moment.

The height difference between you could present a challenge in many positions, but you could lean forward at just the right angle to press your lips to his. Thranduil met you on the way, hungrily accepting your kiss and deepening it until you were drinking each other in.

Since you were already leaning toward him, it was simple to lift up on your knees before sinking back down onto Thranduil. In fact, it was almost easier to keep the motion forward-and-back rather than up-and-down.

The feeling of his thickness sliding out of you spurred you on, and the pressure of his pelvis against your clit at the bottom of every stroke urged you to keep that momentum. Your thrusts sped fast and faster until you had to pull away from Thranduil’s mouth so you could catch your breath.

It was satisfying to see that Thranduil was breathing heavily as well. His chest rose and fell under your fingers, and you could almost imagine that you felt his quickened heartbeat beneath the smooth skin. Every few strokes, the head of his shaft would catch at the perfect place inside of you, shocking your system with the sharpness of the sensations. Each time it happened, your body clamped down around Thranduil’s as he gave a low, urgent growl.

When Thranduil caught at your hips, you half-prepared yourself to swat at his hands. He was clearly as close as you were, and you would be forced into violence if he intended to slow your pace once more.

But he only squeezed your hips, stroking over the sensitive skin he found there. “Lovely, lovely human. I shall not last much longer. What can I do to bring you with me?”

Your mouth was dry from all of the panting, and it took you several attempts to force out, “Touch me, Thranduil.”

“With pleasure,” he agreed, a wolfish smile spreading over his face.

This was once of your most treasured traits of Thranduil’s: when you asked him to touch you, he did not simply lunge for your most sensitive places. He knew that you could find pleasure in every sensation. His hands traveled up your arms to your shoulders, then down the sides of your body, your body singing at the simple contact. He caressed your breasts like he had the rest of you, then continued over the flexing muscles of your stomach and down between your legs.

The thrusting pace you had taken up left little space for him to reach your clit, but Thranduil managed, slipping fingers between you. He teased you mercilessly, following the movements of your body to keep the torment ongoing regardless of whether you were rising or falling.

You had been steadily getting closer to the edge of your orgasm, but it had been a distant thing, growing like a cloudbank over the water before a storm. But Thranduil’s touch brought those nebulous sensations to the immediate forefront.

You slammed yourself down on him, hands braced on his shoulders as you closed your eyes and took deep breaths. The chasm of pleasure yawned eagerly before you, and it was only by holding completely still that you could draw back without falling in. Your body relaxed incrementally, half a step back from the cliff.

Thranduil was unwilling to let you, however. He pressed his knuckle firmly against your clit, thrusting up into you at the same time.

And you were gone.

It was something of a miracle that your arms and legs stayed braced enough to support you. You had no feeling left in them, your entire being so consumed by the sensations wracking you that the world narrowed exclusively to the explosions in your body, the twitching pulses of Thranduil’s length inside of you, and the satisfied gleam of Thranduil’s eyes.

As your body’s frantic spasms eventually slowed to soft squeezes around him, Thranduil’s eyes stayed on yours. You could not fault him; yours were just as blatantly locked on his. His hands on your arms kept you upright even when your muscles no longer wished to support you, and he guided you slowly onto the bed beside him.

The room was quiet, the sound of the waves far below only now audible without the grunts and moans and sounds of sex filling the room. You could almost fall asleep, the worries of your relationship pushed from your mind by your recent activities. But the rustle of the Thranduil’s body against the sheets felt purposeful, a way of breaking the silence, and you knew a conversation was incoming.

“Tell me, my queen,” Thranduil said, gently pulling out of you. “When do you intend to accept my proposal?”

“When do you intend to stop asking?” you returned, lazily rolling your head so you could look at him.

He smiled. “I believe I never shall. Some day, you will agree to have me as your husband.”

“Thranduil…” You knew you were meant to find that funny, but you could not quite summon a smile. Yes, there were serious problems that he refused to acknowledge, but you had never stated them as clearly as you should. Perhaps it was time to bring them up directly.

You rolled onto your side, directing your gaze at him rather than the ceiling. “You will outlive me by a number of years. Why would you want to tie yourself to a wife you will have for the equivalent of a few weeks?”

Thranduil looked over at you and found that you were watching him steadily. He returned his gaze to the ceiling rather than hold yours. “Yes, I will outlive you. That much is a certainty, barring anything unforeseen. But I love you. I want to seize our time together, to spend as much of it bound as tightly as we can be. When you are gone, I will mourn you. I would do so if you left me tomorrow.”

You might have teased him for that, asked if he had designs on your safety… but there was a frown on Thranduil’s face that said the thought alone was causing him distress.

“But would you deny me the knowledge that you had belonged to me and I had belonged to you as much as any two can? That we swore before all kingdoms, all rulers, and every one of our subjects that we chose to be together? Not due to politics or trade or any such thing. But because we loved each other too deeply to live any other way but together.”

Thranduil slowly shook his head. “I mourned my first wife for almost a decade and that was with the comfort of knowing we had been together without reservation. I already care too deeply about you to hope for any less grief, but I worry for that lack of solace…”

“So why do I wish to wed you?” he asked, turning to look at you directly. Thranduil’s eyes were bright with unshed tears, though he fought to keep them from falling. “Simply put: because I love you and I want the entirety of the world to know that I would have none other than you for my wife, my partner, and my queen.”

Whatever expression was on your face, Thranduil seemed to find it unbearable. He turned away, his back toward you. “Please save your objections for the morning. I find I am far too weary to defend my desires to you this evening.”

“Thranduil…” you started.

“Yes?” he asked, still facing away.

Your mouth opened, but you found that you could not answer him.

Thranduil turned toward you once more, his hands rising to cup your face. One of his thumbs rubbed the crease between your brows while the other smoothed the corner of your frowning mouth.

“Yes?” he repeated, voice hushed.

You took a breath, and it was shaky when you released it. “Ask me again.”

Thranduil’s hands stilled on your face. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

His eyes widened an instant before he captured your lips with his own. With the activities of the last hour, you were not quite stirred to need, but your body perked with interest at the way he moved close and closer. You were pressed together, utterly entwined, until Thranduil let you go, pulling away only far enough to press his forehead to yours. The brightness of his beaming smile was near-blinding from such a close vantage point, but there was a mischief in it that made you wary.

“You realize, of course, that our people will not be satisfied with a recounted tale of an accepted proposal?”

You groaned. “Please try not to make your staged proposal too inane tomorrow. I don’t want to lose the respect of my subjects.”

“Never,” Thranduil promised. “I shall devote the entire afternoon to composing a proper proposal for their approval.”

“Afternoon?” you asked. “What about the morning?”

His eyes were bright. “I had a rather different idea of how we would spend the morning.”

---

Author's Note - This pair has been a delight to write from the beginning, but these two chapters represent my final ideas for them. If I ever decide to add to their story, I'll make sure to link it here.

Meanwhile, I would love to hear what you thought! Thanks for reading!

#fanfic february #fanfic february 2024 #lord of the rings #the hobbit #the hobbit thranduil #thranduil #elvenking thranduil #thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #fem!reader #reader #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert fanfic #reader insert fic #lemon #spicy #not suitable for minors #minors dni

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not-your-fucking-kacchan · 2 years

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♡︎𝐍𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐈𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐲𝐚♡︎

Day 22 of Kinktober 2022

Summary: Izuku can't hold back when you send him such enticing photos.

Props to my beta reader for today @sasualblxd - thank you for your amazing help, ik you've been having a rough time bae but I hope u know that you're loved, and that ur awesome <3!

572 words.

Izuku jumps at the sudden buzz of his phone, vibrating his work dest as he sits in his office, daydreaming about you and how desperately he just wants to go home. He wants the calming, gentle touch of his wife and to feel your warmth against his skin, held tight with his arms, decorated with the scars of previous triumphs.

It's his favourite thing in the world, to snuggle with you in a safe, cozy blanket after a long day of being top Pro-Hero.

He's snapped out of his trance by yet another buzz of his phone, laying face-down on the table as to not distract him. A fruitless endeavour, as he picks up his phone to see who's currently blowing it up with texts.

That was a mistake, on his part.

As he unlocks his phone, the background being a photo of the two of you on your first date, spotting your name pop up at the top of his screen, along with a little photo icon. Oh? There could be something wrong if your messaging while he's at work, he thinks, better check it.

The sight he's met with as your chat appears on his screen is utterly mouth watering. You, clad in only your prettiest, forest green lingerie appears on his phone in the little box. Soon enough it's full screen.

Meanwhile, upon seeing the little blue tick mark next to your message you smile with barely supressed excitement, your cheeks dimpled while you watch in amusement for his nearly instant reply.

"What are you doing baby? You know I'm at work right?"

Well. That was a little less than you'd hoped for but that's no reason to not press on.

Izuku's thick cock is already at half chub in your hands, and his cheeks are flushed red with arousal. You're in for punishment once he gets home in... He checks the time at the top of his screen, reluctantly dragging his eyes off the picture of his wife. An hour. Half an hour until his shift ends, and maximum half an hour to get home.

Minutes pass by like years, however, and it feels like he may wither away of old age before he can finally clock out, his suffering having only been made worse by the many, many more photos you had sent.

There were completely nude, half nude, and especially explicite photos that he would have to scrub his phone of later. Better yet, he may just have to get a new phone altogether. He would fold over like a lawn chair and die if any of his colleagues got ahold of these photos, and he will protect your integrity to the very end, god damnit!

Your body is for his eyes, and his eyes only, and a possessive attitude takes ahold of him, and all according to your plan.

He wouldn't be a very good hero if he was caught speeding, so he may have only gone over the limit a couple of mph to get to you faster, and he's parked in the front a whole twenty minutes earlier than expected. He's gonna have fun with this. You surely won't.

Or at least that's what he thinks, but you wouldn't have instigated this if you didn't like being edged for hours. A little bit of discipline goes a long way, and maybe this will get you to behave for the next week or two.

◃ 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 ▹

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha #bnha #bnha headcanons #izuku imagine #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #izuku smut #midoriya izuku #izuku mydoria #mha izuku #izuku x fem reader #izuku x reader smut #bnha kinktober #notyourfuckingkacchan kinktober!#kinktober 2022 #kinktober

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fictional2dcharacters · 12 days

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Why were ancient powers in TBOAH not considered strong? Let’s talk about it.

What was that thing in the beginning of the novel that talked about ancient powers not being powerful? And despite people having them, they weren’t used very much in The Birth of a Hero because of that?

Cale had said it before when he talked about the fiery thunderbolt in tboah when Pendrick had gotten it, saying that it was of equal power to like a lighter or something, nowhere as powerful as what they needed it for.

But when Cale got it, it’s suddenly just gods damnation?!?!?? And it had the power to purify dead mana and black magic like this whole time?? That needs to be a topic for a whole other post (I mean seriously, that’s overpowered af, and no one would’ve ever known because only Cale can hear the voices of ancient powers, so Pendrick would forever have absolutely no idea it could do that)

I mean, it could be the way he spent all that money just to give it more power in a way Pendrick would never be able to do because they’re so non-materialistic.

But still, it’s just such a big difference????

The Sound of the Wind, Toonka in TBOAH never used it, again, maybe just because it might’ve been a bit too similar to magic, but he also called it weak and just never used it!

The Unbreakable Shield was just never used period, despite its usefulness and utility.

I have no idea about the Sky-Eating Water because I think it also never got used.

But why does something about Cale make these powers stronger?

They’re not even fully combined with his soul! They’re not at full power!! What the hell???!??

I have a theory about this, but you have to hear me out-

So TBOAH was the story about the creation of a hero through suffering and overcoming adversity, right?

Maybe his ancient powers are so strong because of a, “high risk, high return” type thing?

For example, referencing one of my past posts, every time he coughs up blood from an ancient powers recoil, he should be dying. His plate is weak, it’s made of glass, and every time he uses one last their limit, that glass will get closer snd closer to breaking, that is, without the Crybaby ancient power.

The Crybaby ancient power serves as a cushion, a shock-absorber, for every time one of the other ancient powers tries to recoil against Cale’s glass plate.

Just think of it as, every time Cale has ever coughed up blood, he should’ve been dead.

And of course, Cale, with barely any self preservation instincts, or those mental blocks in his brain that would usually be like “oh using that much would be too harmful, let’s not,” Mr, I can used Instant for 5 seconds and come out looking like I jumped into a blender, who is willing to sacrifice himself at anytime for the ones he loves, will always use the ancient powers past the safe limit.

For taking such a large backlash, one that would, should, be strong enough to kill you, you must be rewarded with something pretty powerful, right? Balance and all that shit?

Does any of this make sense? It’s like 1 am right now

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eywa-eveng · 26 days

Text

ɪɪ. ᴡʜᴀᴛ’s ʟᴇғᴛ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ – ɴᴇʏᴛɪʀɪ & ᴊᴀᴋᴇ X ᶠᴱᴹ ᴼᴹᴬᵀᴵᴷᴬᵞᴬ ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ – 6.2k

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ – angst

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs – major character death, war, ptsd, unrequited love

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇ – Still a non-linear storyline, so this entire part is set in the past. This part is also a lot shorter than usual!

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪ

ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪsᴛ – @eywas-heir @amiets2 @neteyamforlife @sunrays404 @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @eternallyvenus @bobojojoba69 @behindthearcane @elegantkidfansoul @ladylovegood-69 @pinkiemme @arminsgfloll @wtf-why-do-i-gotta-do-this @onlyreadz @ghost-lantern @calums-betch @crazy4books1 @meladollsims @yeosxxx @sillyfreakfanparty

Jake never does wake up. It’s like tossing a crystal off a cliff and watching it shatter on the rocks below, watching hundreds of glitter shards scatter to the wind and knowing there’s no way to gather them all. Once a cut is made there’s no removing the presence of the blade. There will always be a scar. Healed and faded but never completely hidden from view. There was always the knowledge that Jake lived with a false body, that he was a Sky Demon wearing the face of the People. But knowing is different from seeing. Knowing that his body is empty, not asleep, a cup spilled and hollow without anything to fill it. Someone was kind enough to help Neytiri find a place to settle his body.

If not for his chest rising and falling, it would be easy to imagine his stillness as death. But his skin is still warm, his heartbeat still thrumming through his veins. He’s pliable as water, running between your fingers as you lift his arm, bending it this way and that as if to find some new flaw in his stolen physique. His veins march in rivers beneath his blue skin, patterned with the same dark markings of any true born Na’vi. His likeness is remarkable save for the things the human scientists could never perfect. As a child, Grace had explained that their hands and feet with those extra appendages were like a syaksyuk’s split arms, to remove one would be to unbalance the creature needlessly. Like removing a Na’vi’s tail. A body used to having five fingers would need to relearn to use only four, she told you. Jake’s hand is heavy in yours as you turn his hand over between your own. Warm and hardened from months of training. When he’d come to the clan on that fateful night, led by Neytiri and a sign from the Great Mother he’d been smooth. Soft and thin as a child, but in time he’d learned and grown into a man worthy of the Omatikaya clan. His palms are calloused and muscles defined, pulling taut beneath his skin like the string of a bow as you rediscover the shape of his body.

It’s so strange how closely you’ve become acquainted with the form of an uniltìrantokx. All your life you’ve been taught to fear the demons from the sky, the monsters that descended upon your peaceful home and ravaged it like a sickness with no cure, a plague upon all that they touched. The very ground beneath your feet bears scars of the Sky People. Poisons leaked from their dwellings and swathes of land lost to the metal creatures that know only to seek and destroy. Tears burn anew in your eyes as you think of the yellow behemoths chewing through the glade of Spirit Trees with no regards to their sacred value. All of those that had gone before you, yet lived on within Eywa, lost in an instant like a scent washed clean by the rain.

Somewhere, Tsu’tey is rallying the clan to strike back against the terror these demons have wrought. The tenuous bond that was made with the intentions of peace has been slowly fraying, day by day, and now it’s been severed completely. A knife that cut clean and quick through the years of fragile peace. Retribution is in order. What they’ve done is not a slight that can be taken in silence. A weeping gash has been torn through the clan and the suffering must be returned in kind. First blood has been drawn.

With the iknimaya celebration having passed not even a day ago, it all seems to have happened with such perfect timing. As if the Sky People knew of the warriors that would be joining the ranks of the adults within the clan. A few days earlier and some might not have been considered to defend the People. Children are precious and only a few are ever chosen to join a fight before their time. Your eyes fall to Jake. His face looks just the same as it has for the past few hours as the sun creeps higher in the sky. Grace is laid a few paces away. Both quiet as death. A bolt of doubt strikes through your chest like an arrow dipped in acid. A burning that spreads through your chest like a web, poisoning every corner of your mind with ideas of those you’ve allowed into your home betraying the People’s trust. Grace who you once called sa’nok. Jake who you had bound your life to, albeit with great hesitance. He was your mate now, for better or worse. And it seemed that with each passing moment, a storm was drawing ever nearer.

A shadow thundering over the horizon as you remain at your post, watching over the demons as Tsu’tey had instructed. He didn’t trust Neytiri with the task and he needed every one of his students present for the war council. His trust weighs heavily on your shoulders, misplaced and absolute. It hadn’t been only Neytiri that betrayed him, hadn’t been only Jakesully that mated with his promised woman. But now was not the time for such confessions. Another severed bond would only serve to further weaken the clan from within. So you shut the guilt tight within yourself, burying it deep within your heart to be dealt with when the time comes. For now, all that plagues your mind is worries of the war to come. You’d been far closer to the might of these Sky People than most. Thoughts of blood and bullets crowd your mind, hand curling tighter around Jake’s for comfort.

Seeking out your mate with an instinctual fervor even as the bond slips in and out of focus like blinking water from your eyes. It’s shimmery and elusive. A single thread where there should be an unbreakable rope tied between your hearts. The bond wavers, made worse as you try to reach for a person that isn’t there. Jake is only a body at this moment. An empty vessel waiting to be inhabited. Your nails dig desperately into his skin as fear chokes you, clutching tight to his hand. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move. He lays still as panic overtakes you. The feeling threatens to drown you. Tears burn in your eyes and drip across his skin as your feelings roar forth all at once. It is as safe a place as any to allow yourself to be lost in your anguish. Though there are three bodies in the alcove hidden within Hometree, only one is real. Somehow, even in company, you’re completely alone.

The feeling burns through your, in your eyes and beneath your skin. Simmering like nectar on a hot stone, bubbling and turning acrid as you sob through another wave of grief. It’s like stones being stacked on your chest, the weight growing and growing, threatening to crack through your ribs and crush your heart beneath the weight. It had started as a few pebbles. Small slights and forgettable offenses committed by the Sky People in your childhood. But in the time since, they’ve only grown more audacious, more greedy. Taking and taking until there’s nothing left to give. The loss of Utraya Mokri is nearly enough to crush your spirit to ash yet you’ve remained standing. Though there’s no certainty for how much longer you can bear it. One more devastation and you’ll surely crumble beneath the weight. You squeeze Jake’s hand again as a sob silently wracks your shoulder, muffled and choked as you try to contain your sadness. This time there’s a slight twitch to his fingers as if he’s finally noticed the weight of your hand in his. Grace comes to first, rolling to her knees and then scrambling to her feet.

There’s a frantic look about her eyes as she tries to gain her bearings before her gaze settles on you kneeling beside Jake. He wakes with the same erraticism, jumping to his feet so quickly it knocks you to the wayside. It’s so strange that in a single moment the comfort he offered has dried up. Seeing him return to his false body reminded you that he was nothing more than an illusion, that his soul could never truly be bound to yours, or anyone else’s. In the silence there was the comfort of familiarity but seeing him awake, kneeling before you as the tears dry on your cheeks. Jake suddenly looks like a stranger.

“I was sent here to–” The words echo in your mind even as his thumbs brush away the last of your tears. He presses a kiss to your lips, his forehead resting against yours, and all you can muster is a feeling of betrayal. Who was this man that was speaking to you so gently?

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” he’s telling you as if you’d been in fear for his safety. Perhaps Neytiri had been afraid. Her voice was scratched with panic as she went to Grace’s side; her eyes flashed with rage after Tsu’tey dared to set his blade against Jake’s neck. Yet all you could muster was fear for yourself, for your home. Fear of what kind of people you’d let into your heart. Once, you’d thought Tsu’tey’s persistent hatred to be exhausting. Anger for the sake of it when all you wanted to do was forget. But now you see it for what it is. A desperate bid for self preservation. There was no forgetting the scars carved through your life by the hands of the Sky People. No masking the hatred that burned deep in your heart for what they’ve done. Hostility is an instinct taught to you from birth, and you chose to ignore it to please the whims of your heart. Neytiri had learned kindness and so too had you. And that gentility has been taken for granted.

It makes you cry harder. Jake soothes you with a sort of hastened affection as Grace paces the small hollow. Her tail curls anxiously, ears pulled tight against her head as she clenches and releases her fists.

“Baby, look at me.” You want to tell him that you’re not a baby. That your tears are well-founded, but you can’t find the words as his thumbs brush over your cheeks. “We have to talk to Mo’at and Eytukan. Now, right now.”

“It can’t wait,” Grace insists as Jake urges you to your feet. By the time the three of you reach the heart of Hometree, your tears have dried, though you aren’t certain of how long it will last.

Neytiri is the first to notice the three of you, coming to Jake’s side with a swiftness that takes his hand from yours before anyone could take note of it. If Grace had words for how she felt hearing Jake speak so intimately with you she kept them to herself, far more interested in the more pressing matter of an audience with your tsahìk and olo’eyktan. Neytiri calls to her parents, pulling Jake behind her, and they part from their war plans with a guarded curiosity. Mo’at raises her hands to silence the buzzing crowd so Jake might speak and be heard. Nearly the entire clan is gathered. Young and old, man and woman are gathered to hear what the dreamwalker has to say. He draws in a deep breath as if to gather his strength before he speaks.

“A great evil is upon us. The Sky People are coming to destroy Hometree.” He says in carefully enunciated Na’vi. Quieter, to Neytiri, he says, “Tell them they’re going to be here soon.” And she does. His words move through the clan like a ripple over still waters, raising a hum of fear and aggression.

“You have to leave, or you’re gonna die.” His words are final. As though he’s already seen what will come of this. And perhaps he has. How easily they’d turned the Trees of Voices to ruin. Though Hometree was far bigger, it seemed something these demons from the sky were capable of. With their rumbling metal beasts and their sparking guns. A chill rushes over you as cold as rainfall. More bullets. More death. It was all these Sky People were good for.

“Are you certain of this?” Mo’at demands. Moments ago her most pressing concern was seeking vengeance for the destruction of a sacred place. Now the tsahìk has to contend with the thought of her clan’s ancestral home being annihilated. Your eyes sweep over the open space within the roots of Kelutral. There is the fire pit still smoldering with the breakfast cookfire. The totem of toruk’s skeleton that has been passed down through generations of the Omatikaya as a precious show of strength and resilience. The mother loom that even now has hands weaving upon it. Your very life has been kept safe within the cradle of Hometree and these demons seek to destroy it.

A pit opens in your stomach. Hollow and gnawing as your fingers dance over the shape of your songcord. It’s an act of comfort, touching each bead and knowing each memory by shape alone. The bead for Sylwanin’s death, the flat river stone to match the color of your ikran, the jagged bit of crystal for your iknimaya. The litany of beads and knots to commemorate the chorus that ties every Na’vi life together. Soon there’d be more to add. For your mating. For a battle with the Sky People. The loose end of your cord is frayed between anxious fingers as you pull at the threads, waiting for a shred of reassurance. None comes.

“They sent me here, to learn your ways, so one day I could bring this message and you would believe me.” Jake says.

I was sent here to–kill. Destroy. Lie. A word that had no meaning before these demons descended upon your home. It was your mistake for thinking Jake could be any different. Though he wears his anguish plainly, as if your pain is shared when he meets your eyes. His gaze is heavy, pleading, and you step back as if to lessen the weight. This isn’t your burden to bear. All that he’s done, he did for himself. Neytiri isn’t so hesitant in her disbelief. She pushes forward. Reaching towards him as though her hands might reshape the words he’s said.

“What are you saying Jake?” Her voice is unsteady as rushing water. “You knew this would happen?”

He hesitates for a moment before he speaks. “Yes.”

“Look, at first it was just orders, then everything changed. I fell in love,” he tries to smile. “I fell in love with the forest, with the Omatikaya people,” he reaches to hold her and it’s like a spark that lights a fire. Neytiri pushes his hands aside, her face crumbling beneath the weight of his words.

“With you.” He says as though it will fix anything.

“I trusted you,” she says quietly. Jake’s eyes cut between the two of you. You stare back, tears welling in your eyes. The love you felt for Jake was not the same as Neytiri’s. She was in love with him. Consumed by the desperate fervor that made her betray all the plans that were made for her. She was willing to throw her life away for him. To deny her calling as tsakarem and never assume the mantle of tsahìk. She made a sacrifice with her very soul. As had you in some accidental, tangled moment of lust. Your spirits were now bound until death and it had only taken mere hours for Jake to so utterly betray that bond. The tips of your ears burned hot with shame. It simmered within you like a poison, searing through your veins until all you felt was an encompassing numbness. Like a salve being spread over a burn, the pain fizzled and faded until your heart felt cold as stone in your chest. This is what kindness has gotten you. Perhaps if you’d been hardened by your pain like Tsu’tey, this moment might’ve glanced off your skin like rain hissing to steam over fire.

Jake and Neytiri exchange the same words. Over and over. With you. I trusted you. One is present, constant. Jake loves Neytiri even now. Yet the same can’t be said for her, for you. Whatever love you might’ve had for the uniltìrantokx was lost the moment he voiced his betrayal.

“Trust me now, please.” He’s begging now. Quietly, he says your name as if you’ll have words to heal what has been hurt. His pleas fall upon deaf ears. Neytiri speaks for both of you as she rages at him. Screaming and hissing, pushing him away and stripping him of the one thing he’d been fighting for.

“You will never be one of the People!”

“Neytiri, please–” He steps towards her, arms outstretched as if to hold her, but you take the moment from him. Neytiri falls heavily into your arms and still Jake moves closer, begging desperately.

“No!” You hiss as Neytiri buries her head in your neck, tears wetting your skin. No. He doesn’t get to speak to her. He doesn’t get to look at her. Not her. Not you. “No.”

Neytiri’s quiet sobs ring in your ear as Mo’at wraps her arms around the two of you. A soft, comforting whisper of “ma ite,” reaches you over the sound of Neytiri’s whimpers as the tsahìk takes pity on her daughter. Both of you were led astray by the lies of an outsider. Mo’at’s hand brushes over your hair as Eytukan calls for Jake and Grace to be bound.

“You have to leave!” Grace insists. “They’re coming!” It doesn’t matter. This is your home and none of you are leaving it without a fight. Tsu’tey deals with the traitors, binding Jake’s hands and leading them to the seldom-used platform erected just outside of Hometree. It’s a simple structure decorated with bones. A place of quiet death. It’s meant for the worst offenses committed within the clan. That which cannot be atoned for so easily. It’s a place meant for the People, to offer dignity even in death. Sky People do not deserve such treatment. It proves the clan’s respect even in the face of such great betrayal. You stand by as Tsu’tey’s warriors bind the traitors, heart conflicted as you watch your mate and teacher be prepared for death. Part of you wonders if it would only mean death for these bodies. You know that somewhere far away, their human bodies are safe from reach. But to kill them in this way would sever the bond they’ve formed with the Omatikaya. It is greatly deserved but there is a fragmented piece of you that mourns the loss of the people you thought you knew.

“Watch them.” Tsu’tey grunts before heading back towards Hometree. It is a show of trust that he would leave you with his students to mind the captives. There isn’t a thought in his mind that you might think to free them the moment his back is turned. There’s a fierce loyalty within you and it will not be bent or broken by Jake’s pleading. He says your name so gently that you almost imagine that he could truly love you the way he says. But a man that loves you would never do this to you. To your people. To your home. Still, he speaks as a mate would. Calling to you to help him.

“Baby, please, you have to listen to me,” he begs. “They’re gonna burn this place to the ground. You have to go now.”

“Be silent. I will hear no more from you.” He doesn’t heed your words. Jake has always been talkative, filling the air with the sound of his voice, but now more than ever you wish for him to be quiet. There’s no amount of simpering and sorrow that would get you to abandon your home without a fight. This was the place that had seen your birth. Countless lives had bloomed and withered, returned to Eywa, within the comfort of Kelutral. To leave now would be to forsake your ancestors who had lived and fought for the life you lead now. Their memory is worth defending no matter what is to come.

The humans are not silent in their approach. The thundering buzz of their flying ships echoes through the air, seeming to come from all sides. For a moment the sky is a clear blue, then shapes dark as storm clouds are closing in from above. It feels like a storm has gathered as the whirring ships bring heavy winds. Leaves stir through the air, slicing against your skin as you hold tight to your bow. Something shoots from the ships, small and shining in the sunlight. Each one arcs overhead and lands between the roots of Hometree, bursting in clouds of gray-green smoke. They’ve made the first move, though blood may not have been drawn. Eytukan gives the order to shoot, but every arrow seems insufficient. They glance off the largest ship like stones skipping over water. It feels futile even as you deplete your arrows following the olo’eyktan’s orders. Your arrows fly and fall in quick succession, arms burning with the effort it takes to draw your bow so quickly. It’s all meaningless as the demon ship fires again, flames burning bright as the sun overhead as weapons you had no name for hurtled towards Hometree.

Larger than any bullet you’d ever seen, they landed with an earth-shattering certainty. The flames took to Kelutral with the swiftness of the wind, plumes of smoke billowed from between the large roots as fire roared through the place you’d been raised. Inside you knew the totems you’d been taught beneath, the looms you’d learned to weave upon, the memories of your childhood were being reduced to ash as simply as wood in a cooking pit. More than that, clan members that had chosen not to fight were still inside, and higher within the tree must be Tsu’tey and his warriors because you’d yet to see any banshees take towards the sky. Your home, your people were burning. Another arrow shoots from your bow and as you reach for another your eyes catch on Jake and Grace still bound amid the chaos. Jake shouts as though he’s been wounded, eyes round with fear as he watches Hometree burn. Then his eyes catch on yours, still staring at him with your arrow half string. There’s a reason for your hesitance that you can’t place but Eytukan is calling for a retreat and you don’t have a moment to wonder over the stall in your actions.

The air is choked with a haze of smoke and rain of leaves, screams piercing through the buzzing of the Sky Demons’ flying machines as the clan flees to the forest. One moment, you’re alone in the chaos and the next Neytiri is crashing into you, shoving you forward. Running only takes you so far before the earth is rippling underfoot, buckling your knees before knocking you to the ground. Then everything goes still. There’s a moment to gather your bearings and you rouse to your knees, pulling Neytiri close to your side. She clings to you so tightly that her nails bite into your skin and you let her. The pain wards off the numbness that’s begun to consume you. It feels as though you’ve walked into a stream. Shallow at first, then deeper and deeper until the water has swallowed you completely. Everything is cold and muffled as your eyes stare up at the canopy. As a child, it seemed as wide as the sky, Hometree unshakable as a mountain. Yet the mountain is beginning to crumble. There’s a groaning noise like stripping bark to make a bow and then Kelutral pitches forward. Falling.

Darkness grows as the massive tree topples towards you, too quickly to outpace. There’s only mere moments for you to evade the falling limbs. Shards of bark rain like arrows, pricking at your skin as you sprint towards the closest piece of light you can find, a place where the shadow of Hometree doesn’t touch. Around you there are the screams of those that weren’t quick enough. Loud for a moment and then silent forever. When the ground goes still, you shakily find your feet. The air is full of dirt and ash, and the anguished sound of mourning. For the fall of your home, for the death of your people. Broken branches scatter across the ground and you’re struck with a sense of disbelief. Hadn’t this place been filled with happiness only hours before? The night had been spent in celebration. So quickly the music and laughter had gone silent. A sound shatters through the sound of blood rushing in your ears and it isn’t until Neytiri pulls you into her embrace that you realize you’re screaming. It’s something past tears. Anguished wrath bubbles in your throat, loud and steady until your voice begins to give out in shuddering waves that chip off into silence.

Neytiri’s sorrow is quieter. Her breaths come quickly in your ear, gasping as if she can’t quite believe the sight set before her. It seems so impossible. Hometree has stood for generations as the ancestral home of the Omatikaya and now it was simply and irrevocably gone.

“Ma sempul,” she says at last, “ma sa’nok. They’ll know what to do.” Because something must be done. She speaks with empty regard. There is truly no way to know if they’ll know what to do but what more can you think to do than look to your olo’eyktan and tsahìk for guidance? There is nothing else left. It’s all burning. Neytiri stumbles away, bow in hand, in search of her parents. She’s slow at first but you watch her walk past the bodies strewn across the ground and pick up her pace. Voice calling out for her father. You go in the opposite direction in the search of the tsahìk. Many will be seeking Mo’at’s guidance and you can only hope the Great Mother has preserved her life as you sidestep those that were lost in the fall. Bodies streaked with blood and ash. Hands still clutching their bows and most precious belongings.

It’s easier to recognize yourself slipping away this time. How many? How many more of the People will die at the hands of these demons? So many lives lost without reason. Simply because they had the strength to do it. Even an animal did not hunt with this much impunity. There was always cause, balance. As the Great Mother intended.

Only moments ago, you’d been running. Leaping over fallen branches and ducking beneath curling ferns, but as you fall deeper into your mind, your gait begins to slow to a stumble. It feels as though you’re trudging through mud as you stagger through the rain of ash. No longer certain of what you’d been running from or towards. Small fires flare around you like the flames of a cooking pit. Warmth licks at your legs as you pass in your confusion. There’d been something you were looking for but you can’t seem to place it. It feels as though you’re chasing a memory. Walking towards some unreachable destination. Still you walk on, weaving a sinuous path through the ruins of your home. There’s something warm on your face like the kiss of sunlight but when you touch it your hand comes away slicked in red. Your legs fall still, no longer chasing that unknown place.

It’s suddenly all around you. The school and yet Hometree. The blood is yours and Sylwanin’s. A garbled scream tears from your throat, low and graveled as she walks towards you. Her voice sounds wrong. Her hands feel wrong as they grab your shoulders. She hadn’t gotten close enough to hold you though you remember her bloody drying sticky between your outstretched fingers. It’s all wrong, made worse when the voice solidifies in your head, brings you back to yourself.

It’s Jake. He’s grasping at your shoulders, brushing the blood from your cheek. He seems uncertain of himself, though you can hear the attempt at comfort in his voice. It does little to soothe you. Something in your heart aches at the way your bond seems to strain and fray with each passing moment. But never breaking. Tsaheylu is made with the intention of eternity. Jake will be your mate until death no matter the regret that comes. He says your name with just the right cadence for you to regain some semblance of strength and you shove him away.

“Don’t touch me!” You hiss. He jerks away from your rage. “Traitor! Get away from here. Never come back.” And he does. There’s a great hesitance in his retreat but he leaves you, eyes shimmering with longing. It’s too late for such affections and if your heart weren’t already crushed by his betrayal and the carnage that followed, you might’ve felt your soul tearing in two as you watched your mate turn his back on you. It would be alright, you had another.

Neytiri finds you later, after the long journey to the Tree of Souls. In times of great strife such as this, there was nowhere else to seek refuge but at the place where Eywa’s presence was felt the strongest. It was almost like a heartbeat thrumming beneath your feet as you bathed in the purple light of the clan’s most sacred place. Anyone that knew how to heal was busy with the injured and Neytiri had only just found a moment to join you in the alcove you claimed for yourself. The mossy stone was no replacement for the comfort of Hometree but it was all that any of you would have for some time. Already the elders of the clan have begun to weave. Kelku are simple enough to make but they take time to weave the outer walls and craft the wooden frame. Other things could not be so easily replaced. You thought of the mother loom and the totem of toruk. How long had his bones and his legend been passed down through the Omatikaya and now there was nothing to show that such a great leader had ever existed within the clan. There’d be only songs and memories now.

“I am sorry, yawne,” Neytiri says to break the silence. “I should’ve listened to you. I should’ve never opened my heart to that man.”

She still can’t seem to bring herself to insult him. Demon, Tsu’tey had called him. A traitor is what he is. And yet Neytiri can’t bring herself to call him anything more than a man. Her hand wrings the braid of her tswin as if trying to scrub away his touch. She looks as you must have last night. Awkward and unsure, but mated all the same. Jake tied tsaheylu without knowing its true meaning. While knowing his original intention for joining the clan. No matter how his plans had changed, he was still a betrayer. Had Neytiri not been his teacher–if he’d been given someone more abrasive as his guide–his orders would’ve likely been heeded without question. It was only because he couldn’t help but fall in love that he tried to abandon his mission. A liar and a coward. A man that no longer deserved his place among the People. It’s your hope that the memories of Jake would turn to ash in your mind, like forgotten wisps lost to the wind. He was no mate of yours.

Neytiri sags against you, her face buried in the length of your throat. Her nose is a cold spot against the warmth of your skin, warm breath washing across your skin. So much had changed so quickly. Only last night you’d been unmated and willing to let your love for Neytiri wither and die. Months ago Jake had been a stranger encroaching on your clan’s hunting grounds and now he’d betrayed the trust Mo’at instilled, that you’d so naively taken to heart. With time, perhaps you could’ve loved him as a mate. There were moments when you might’ve been content to live beside him despite it all, if Neytiri was mated to Tsu’tey as had been expected since her sister’s death. So many plans had been unmade by his presence. And some came to fruition quicker than expected. Tsu’tey has ascended to his position as olo’eyktan years before his time. Neytiri had found her father when she went searching for him. Found him dying in the rubble of your ruined home, shot through with a fragment of Hometree like an arrow. As she clung, weeping, to you, she shared his last words, “protect the People.” They were all that was left. The clan was a people not a place, though Hometree had become such a symbol of safety and togetherness. A home shared between hundreds. Now it was gone.

Sounds of mourning rang through the stone cliffs surrounding the Tree of Souls. Voices lamented the melody of lost songcords, of those that couldn’t be found in the flame and ash. Young and old had been lost. Mothers lost children, brothers lost sisters. And without the Tree of Voices, songs were all that was left to remember them by. Not even their cords to ponder between their fingers as they’re been left with the bodies that wore them. Everyone that wasn’t breathing still was left behind. A burden that would not be worth the effort to carry so far. Grace had been one such person spared from abandonment. She’d collapsed at the crest of a hill, body falling still and silent in that death-like way Jake’s always did when he slept. Her soul had been torn from her body once more. You expect that Jake suffered the same fate wherever he was in the rain of ash. He was one that was left behind. No one would sing the few meager beats of his fledgling songcord.

In your ear Neytiri hums soft as birdsong. It’s a familiar melody that you’ve heard throughout your life. Mo’at sang it as she worked and Neytiri when she was distraught. It was her father’s song. One that spoke of strength and duty. While Tsu’tey has spent his life training to take his place, Eytukan has cast a long shadow for him to live up to. Though he is trying. He stands on the raised stone beneath the swaying branches of the Tree of Souls, lingering beside Mo’at as she addresses a group of people. From a distance you can’t hear their words, can hardly see their faces, but they seem comforted by the words of their tsahìk.

“You should be with them.” You nudge Neytiri gently, trying to coax her from her spot hidden beneath the veil of your braids. Her eyes are bright in the waning light of the sun, eclipse settling with a sense of melancholy.

“I can’t,” she mumbles. “Mother said that I chose this path, that I might never become tsahìk now that I’ve tarnished myself. My life will be wasted.” All it had taken was a moment of weakness and she was tainted forever. The bond of tsaheylu will not wilt or waver even in death. Such things dig deep, sprouting roots upon your very soul. Jake, in his ignorance, had no way to truly know what he was doing, but Neytiri did. You did, and yet you tied your kuru even still. Hidden in the recesses of your heart like a single flower blooming in the darkness of a cave was your love for Neytiri. Sequestered in a place where it might never see the light of day. And yet in a moment of selfishness you had tossed aside the years of teachings that told you it was best to stifle some desires in service of the greater good.

Neytiri as tsakarem could be mated to no one but the future olo’eyktan. This was known. A belief that had been passed down since the time of the First Songs. It’s hard to imagine that there had been no other tsakarem who desired someone she could never have, yet she’d done her duty to the clan and mated with her arranged partner. There was honor in doing what was expected of you yet Neytiri had lived so much of her life without expectation. She wasn’t meant to be tsahìk, she was meant to be yours. Surely the Great Mother would not fault her for faltering on the path her sister was meant to walk. After all, it was Sylwanin that was meant to be tsahìk. If she had lived, none of this would have happened. Or perhaps her survival would’ve only prolonged the inevitable.

The Sky People came for your clan in the end. Destroyed your home and slaughtered your people. It just as easily could’ve been Sylwanin that died in the fall of Hometree. Another name added to those you must mourn. There were no words of comfort you could offer. Nothing to promise that everything would be better with time. Before, you might’ve been able to say that the future would be brighter. But now when you think of tomorrow, all you imagine is ash and smoke.

#jake x reader x neytiri #neytiri x reader #jake sully x reader #avatar x reader #avatar #atwow

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thetomorrowshow · 2 years

Text

“Griiaaaan! It’s cold.”

“It’s not cold. Be quiet.”

And the stupid thing is, it is cold. Grian’s never lived in a desert before, but he’d expected it to be hot all the time, not just during the day. It’s the desert, after all—the only things that grow here are spindly leafless bushes, and all the animals that he’s spotted spend most of their time in the shade of sand mounds and rocks.

Most of the nights have still been a bit warm for what Grian’s used to, but apparently the winter’s coming on fast, and it surely has nothing to do with a certain Red King. An execution had occurred just this morning, and now Ren is Red, and apparently the rest of the world has been suffering from it.

“Yes it is,” grumbles the pile of blankets beside him, and Grian sighs.

He’s supposed to be on watch alone, for half the night, then wake up Scar to watch the other half. Scar, however, thinks that keeping watch is stupid, even when Grian has repeatedly stressed that he is no longer the only Red on the server, and one of the others is a very dangerous enemy to them.

“If you’re cold, get in bed,” Grian tells him, and Scar shifts and bit before speaking, teeth clacking together exaggeratedly.

“It’s c-cold there too!”

Grian rolls his eyes, wraps his arms a little tighter around himself. His sweater’s getting pretty scraggly these days. He just had to darn the elbow last week, but that’s about the extent of his knitting skills. If it falls apart completely, he’ll be stuck in just his undershirt, nothing to keep him warm in the approaching winter.

“You know, there’s a way to make us both warm,” Scar teases, his head emerging from the blankets to wink at Grian. Grian shoves him.

“Scar! Stop it and go to bed!”

“Oh, come on, I didn’t mean anything!” Scar says innocently. “I just meant if we were both in bed right now, we could be sharing body heat! I don’t know what you thought I meant. You have a dirty mind, Grian.”

Grian buries his face in his hands. He never should have signed up for this. Out of the ten-some other players in the immediate vicinity, why couldn’t he have blown up anyone else? Why couldn’t he end up with loyalty pledged to Tango, or Etho, or literally any other player on the server?

“C’mon, Grian,” Scar wheedles. “Nobody’s gonna attack! We have the cactus walls, and the lava moat, and the alarm system you rigged today! Even if someone did try to take some sand, we’d know.”

“Right. The alarm system that consists of a bunch of bells and string, which goes off at the slightest breeze. I have so much faith in it.”

“Great, we’re on the same page! So it’ll be totally safe for us to sleep together.” “Scar! I will push you off my mountain!”

“Hey! I resent that—it’s as much my mountain as it is yours.”

Grian lifts his head. Enough of Scar is visible that he can see the self-satisfied smirk on his face.

And somehow, he’s half tempted to agree with Scar just to get him to go to bed.

It is pretty chilly out, after all. And he’s very tired. He’d only volunteered to take first watch because he really didn’t want to be woken up in the middle of a sleep cycle. First watch just means staying up a couple of extra hours and then sleeping soundly.

He glances at Scar again, who—oh, he’s making the puppy-dog eyes—

“Fine,” Grian grumbles, hauling himself to his feet. Scar scrambles up as well and runs for the house, sand flying behind him.

“At least shake the blankets out!” calls Grian. Scar ignores him.

Does he really want to get into bed with a madman? All it takes is the Red haze getting to Scar, and he’s dead in an instant. No armor, no weapon, nothing to protect him from being stabbed in the gut by his supposed ally.

Then a bitingly cold gust of wind blows sand in his nostrils, and Grian decides he’s rather fed up with all this desert stuff and would much rather be asleep, Scar or no. They should be safe to not worry about watches until tomorrow—after all, Scar’s done nothing to torment anyone (other than Grian) this week! Never mind that it’s Monday night.

He heads inside, shucking off his sweater right outside the door to shake it off. His bedroom is the first one on the left, putting Scar deeper in the house and therefore safer, so he turns to go in there—

Of course. Scar’s in his bed.

He’d held onto some strand of hope that maybe Scar had been joking about sleeping together, maybe he’d just been trying to get Grian to go to sleep so he could set out on some dastardly scheme without anyone to hold him back. But Scar’s there, blanket pulled up to his chin, a nightcap (where did he get that?) on his head.

“Why, hello there, Grian!” Scar grins at him. “Ready for some sleepy-times-with-Scar? I’ve been warming the bed up for you.”

Grian almost walks right back out the door. Suddenly, being on watch doesn’t sound that bad.

This might be the last full night of sleep he gets for a while.

“All right. Ground rules,” Grian says, shutting the bedroom door behind him. Scar cheers, arms up in the air, the blanket falling off to reveal a grey six-pack and copious amounts of sand.

“Scar! Put a shirt on! That’s the first rule, wear clothes!”

“But-but-but skin contact, Grian!”

“I am putting my foot down! Clothes on in bed!”

Muttering darkly to himself, Scar rolls out of bed, wearing nothing but his nightcap and a pair of shorts. Grian takes the opportunity to tear the sheets and covers off the bed, shaking them out before stretching them back over the thin mattress. He really ought to change the sheets, but he doesn’t have the wool nor the time to make an extra set. They’ll have to make do with this for now, and maybe he can take a moment tomorrow to wash them.

Scar’s put on a t-shirt, which Grian supposes is the best he’s going to get. He kicks off his shoes and socks, strips out of his jeans and dusts his legs off. There’s enough sand clinging to his leg hair that his skin has practically changed color, a clear line separating the brown and starkly pale from where his socks had been. That’s just awful. Of all places, why on earth did Scar have to pick the worst one?

He can dip into the river to bathe tomorrow, and maybe he can convince Scar to wash off as well (not likely, seeing as Scar has as much aversion to a bath as a feral cat, but it’s worth a try).

He’s washing the sheets anyway. It won’t be a problem to get them this little bit dirtier.

Grian climbs into bed, and Scar hops in next to him immediately. “Second ground rule—” Grian starts, but before he can finish, Scar has almost entirely enveloped him in a burning hot hug.

He can feel the tension just ooze out of Scar’s body as they lie there, Scar’s body burning his at every place they touch. The man sighs, burying his nose in Grian’s hair.

And Grian. . . .

Grian relaxes too.

Just a bit! And it’s just—it’s really just because he’s lying down, and he’s been so terribly tired. No other reason.

Still. He’s hesitant to push Scar away. He does, of course, sitting up to pull up the covers and thereby disrupting Scar’s hold.

“Second rule,” he repeats. “No touching. No cuddling, hugging, or anything of the sort.”

“That’s a bad rule.”

Grian sighs. “Oh yeah? Why?”

Scar gestures wildly, almost knocking the candle off the bedside table. Grian leans over him and grabs it just in time, blows out the flame. “Well—well, the whole reason we’re sleeping together is for shared body warmth! No touching totally ruins that!”

Grian shouldn’t give in easily. He really shouldn’t. But now bereft of Scar’s touch, he feels even colder than before. All the burning points of contact are just numb, now. And Grian really wants to be warm.

“All right, fine.”

Scar tackles him before he can even lie all the way down. Grian decides to just accept it, honestly. What else can he do?

“Third rule: no talking. We are here to sleep.”

Scar nods, releasing Grian for a moment to mime zipping up his lips.

Good. Grian lays back against his pillow, pulling the blanket up to his collarbone, and sighs. It’s not too bad, really. At least this way, if someone comes to kill them in their sleep, they’ll go out together.

That’s . . . a weird thought to have. Grian’s in the middle of decidedly not analyzing it when something ice cold presses against his legs.

He definitely does not screech as he kicks against it. “Scar! Get your cold feet away from me!”

“I’m sorry! It’s just that I’ve been so cold ever since I died, and you’re like a mini space heater over here!”

Grian groans, trying to maneuver his legs in such a way that as much of the covers as possible are between his legs and Scar’s. “I’m about to bring back rule number two, so behave.”

Scar falls silent again, and Grian tries to relax (in his arms). It’s not difficult to feel the pull of sleep. It’s not difficult to let sleep claim him, his limbs heavy and brain slowing to a soupy mush. It feels so nice to not be poised for battle, not be planning their next move. He hasn’t felt this peaceful in weeks.

“Grian?” comes a whisper from beside him.

He’s suddenly aware that he’s been drifting. He's not sure how long it’s been. Hours? Minutes?

“Rule number three,” he grouses.

A shifting of the covers, pulling them taut. “Sorry. Don’t worry about it!”

Reluctantly, Grian drags his eyes open. The world is still dark, the air as still as before. Scar had started to ask a question, and curse him for it because he knows that Grian’s too curious to let it go now. He has to know what Scar wanted. “No. Wha’ is it?”

“What do you miss most about Hermitcraft?”

Hermitcraft. He hasn’t properly thought about it in a while. It’s not that he’d forgotten it, but the longer they spend in 3rd Life, the farther away it is in his mind. This is—what, the sixth week?

Six weeks since he last did anything with his mansion. Six weeks since he restocked the Barge.

“My diamonds,” he says after a moment. “I was so rich, Scar. I had stacks of diamond blocks. Not that I don’t miss other things,” he adds. “Good community, and my mansion, and all that. I just miss the security of so much money.”

Scar hums into his hair, a shiver running down Grian’s back at the tingly feeling. A minute passes, and while Grian’s still barely keeping his eyes open he’s also still curious.

“What about you? What do you miss?”

“Jellie,” Scar says instantly, some sort of wistful longing in his voice that Grian hasn’t ever heard from him.

It’s understandable, of course. It’s his cat. It’s just that the entire time they’ve been playing this death game, Scar has never wanted something as badly as he wants Jellie right now. It’s touching, in a way—the idea that his love for that cat is so strong that even his Red name can’t make it waver.

And in another way, it’s annoying. Because somehow, Scar has retained the capacity to love and want and he’s only felt that way about a cat.

And Grian is definitely not jealous of a cat, of all things. That would be—that would be ridiculous. Wouldn’t it?

If he were fully awake right now, he’d probably stomp off to his creeper farm or go dig sand for a couple of hours until he's completely forgotten about these gnawing feelings and can focus.

But sleepy Grian acknowledges them, holds them close to his chest, and lets himself feel how desperately he wants to be wanted.

Right now, he’s as close to Scar as he can get, head pressed against his chest and strong arms around him. If anyone happened upon them right now, they would instantly assume the obvious.

Yet Grian’s never felt more alone.

“Scar,” he whispers before he can stop himself. “If I wasn’t here, would you miss me?”

Scar's been shuffling around every couple of seconds, so it’s apparent when he goes utterly still.

“Um. You’ve taken me a bit by surprise here, G,” Scar laughs nervously. Sleepy Grian takes that exact moment as a chance to listen to the rational side of Grian’s brain, which is screaming for him to shut up, run away, hide.

“Sorry,” Grian immediately says, face burning. “I—forget I said anything—”

Then Scar presses a kiss into his dirty hair, and Grian’s brain short-circuits.

“Of course I would miss you,” Scar murmurs. “I mean, we all would, but I would miss you the most. I didn’t put you on a llama and carry you away to the desert for nothing.”

Scar’s voice sounds so very fond that Grian can’t help it when his stomach flips a little. He pushes his head up against Scar’s chin, curls a little closer into his body. Scar really is as cold as he’d said. Grian finds himself wondering if he runs warmer normally, which of course makes his brain send him all sorts of ways he can find out when they get back to Hermitcraft.

Not that that will ever happen. This is—this doesn’t mean anything. It’s just two bros, cuddling and falling asleep together. Hermitcraft—and even just tomorrow—will be back to normal.

And perhaps most importantly, Grian cannot allow Scar to become a weakness. He cannot let their enemies see him like this, exhausted and yearning and lonely. He has to be strong to keep the both of them safe.

For now, though, he can just pretend like the game doesn’t exist. He can press closer to Scar, his skin burning in such a good way, and live in Scar’s arms.

In the morning, things will go back to normal.

And when Scar whispers, rasping words loud in the silence of the room, “Grian, I really really like you, I think,” Grian pretends to be asleep.

#3rd life smp #trafficblr #scarian #desert duo #grian #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #mas writes #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.#sometimes you just gotta rewatch 3rd life and spiral #this will be uploaded on ao3 under the title 'so taut it taunts the song'#fair warning this is a bit sad

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theshotsheardacrossworlds · 3 months

Text

Jealous

Seeing his lady attract so much attention got Gale going in more ways than one. NSFW. Based on this post.

On the outside, Gale Dekarios was charming. Smiling. Happy. Polite. On the inside, however, he was seething. He and Ramona had decided to head downstairs to get some light refreshment when he noticed several people leering at her and now one man was speaking with her at the bar.

He’s close.

Dangerously close.

Don’t you dare touch her.

She likes it when I touch her. Only me.

I am her lover. I am her future husband…hopefully. I am her god…well, in bed. Don’t worry, Selune---you’re very much her favorite deity!

Gale stared at young tiefling flirting with her. He was tall, muscular, and had incredibly menacing horns. He’s got a handsome face as well---square jaw, a perfectly proportional nose, and striking eyes. And what a head of hair!

Everything I’m not.

No. No. She wants me. She chose me. Even when Astarion was throwing himself at her left and right, she still chose me.

He decided he had had enough and made his way to Ramona.

My beautiful girl. Perfect in every way. So damn oblivious. A trap could bite her and then detonate, and she’d still be looking for it. Gale casually walked up to her and the young man, hearing the last part of their conversation.

“—the bluebonnets are nice this time of year. Maybe we could go and see them if you want?” he asked, smiling warmly.

Ramona, however, was nodding politely, and her expression completely neutral. She lit up when she saw Gale approach, turning her head to greet him with a kiss. A chaste one. I’m not some lout wanting to show everyone who leered at her to whom she belongs. No, I will show her that in private. “Oh, sorry---my partner’s arrived. Hope you have a good rest of your evening, saer.”

The look on the young man’s face was pure disappointment. He bowed. “You as well, my lady.”

When he was out of earshot, Ramona sighed and placed her hand over her heart. “Oh thank fuck you arrived, love. I was desperately trying to think of ways for me to stop talking to him while still waiting here for our food.” She beamed at him, and Gale felt her tail wrap around his hips. Good gods, the things she does to me.

“Dearest, I very well could not have left you here to suffer inane conversation. What kind of gentleman would I be if I did?” He draped his arm around her broad shoulders, his fingers daring to go just the slightest, no one will see bit under her top to play with a bra strap.

Her cheeks flushed a deep red. “Well, you could’ve…I don’t know…let me suffer?” She glanced up at him and giggled as his index finger traced a circle with the strap in the middle. “No, you’re far too good of a man for that. A very naughty, good man.”

That’s it. I need to get her upstairs. Now. He turned to the bartender and flashed a grin. “My dear man, could the food we ordered be brought to the second room in the suites upstairs?” Gale smiled to himself as he caught her raising an eyebrow, placing several good pieces on the counter. Not to worry---the countess can always send more gold.

“Aye, sure. No problem.”

With a nod, he took her hand and led her towards the stairs. As they walked up, she laughed breathlessly. “Gale love, what on earth has gotten into you?”

“I’ll explain in one moment, my beauty.” They entered the suite common room and then made a beeline for their room, closing and locking the door behind him. Gale could feel the sweat dripping from his brow as he touched his earring, the glamour disappearing.

“Love—”

His lips crashed against hers in an instant, and his arms wrapped around her soft, thick waist. When he broke the kiss, he began to paw at her top. “Do you know how many people were staring at you? Watching you? Leering at you?” he growled. “All of them looking at your every curve, your pretty eyes, your heaving cleavage…and that young so-and-so, thinking he could charm you? Ha!” Once she was down to her smalls, he practically ripped his robes off. “What fools these mortals be---thinking they could compete with me for your affections?” You chose me. You want me. Out of all the people in the world, all of our companions…you chose me. And most days I still cannot believe it. “You’ve shown me time and time again one fundamental truth, my love. Do you know what it is?” He reached behind her and unclasped her bra with ease, freeing her large and extremely soft breasts from their confines.

Her bright blue eyes never left him as she watched him help her with her clothes and then remove his. “N-no?” she whispered; her eyes wide.

Gale cupped a breast and leaned against one of her short black horns. “That I am yours, and you, in turn, are all mine.” This pair of underwear is already tight enough and falling apart, so I suppose… His other hand reached for an existing tear in his underwear and tore them off, finally liberating my cock. Gods take me, she does things to me. “My love, my sweetest lady, my dearest one, I need you. I need you right now.” Backing her up towards the foot of the bed, he kissed her again. The kiss was sloppy and passionate, not his usual controlled, chivalrous ones he shared with her in public.

As she hit the bed, she fell backwards and let out an amused cry. “Gods Gale, were there really that many people looking at me?!” She panted in disbelief and removed her panties, tossing them on the floor. I’ll put them in the dirty clothes pile later. Everything should be organized, my dear! She moved up the length of the bed, her tail swishing all the while. “I didn’t think anyone was—”

“By Elminster’s beard, of course there were!” He sighed as he crawled to her. Stopping to line himself with her glistening cunt (fucking hells, she is so wet), Gale put his weight on his hairy forearms, nearly pressing onto her. “My love, you are alluring to anyone with eyes! And I suppose, everyone without eyes when they hear you speak! So many eyes on you—ah!” He exhaled sharply as he entered her, and she moaned wantonly. Sing for me, my angel. I want to hear it all…hear how you’re mine… “But all I could think was how you. Are. Mine.” Punctuating each word with a thrust, his rhythm became faster every second. Mine. Yours. All mine. All yours. Forever. Always.

The claws on one of her hands threaded through his silky hair as the other lightly dragged along his back. “Gale…please…”

“Too much?” He panted and hung his head to glance at her face. “If it is, I—”

She shook her head, her expression as light and bright as could be. “More, love. More…please…”

Whatever the lady desires, so it shall be done! Thrusting harder, he tugged at her plump lower lip and moaned. “You are…so beautiful…one day…you’ll see…will do anything…to have you see…what I see…”

“And you?” she asked as she reached where they were joined. Good girl. Such a good girl. “Will you see yourself as I see you, my handsome wizard?” Ramona moaned again, her cheeks now bright red. “Gale…so close, love…”

He quickly pressed a kiss to her lips. “So am I, my sweet…ah, tell me, darling…tell me I’m yours…”

“You’re mine!” she cried, her climax hitting her hard. “You’re all mine…my Gale…”

Burying his face in the crook of her neck, he nearly screamed as he released several torrents of seed into her. He rolled off her, panting heavily. “Thank you for indulging me, sweetness. You truly are the most wonderful woman in all the realms.”

Minding her horns (she’s always so careful not to nick me with her horns and claws), she curled into his soft side, head resting on his plush hairy chest and her tail swishing happily. “And you are the most wonderful man.”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Ramona quickly rose from bed and grabbed her black silk robe. As soon as we “moved into” the Elfsong Tavern, she grabbed that very sexy robe and returned saying she “needed” it. Well, it turns out I need it too because godsdamn, she looks incredible wearing it. “Hi, thank you so much! Here you go.” She took the tray of food and handed the waiter a handful of gold before she closed the door. She didn’t tie it well enough because there it goes! Dinner and a show---who’s better than me? His mouth salivated at the sight of her jiggling belly and swaying hips more so than the charcuterie plate he ordered.

A long night ahead, I think. Perhaps I should give into my less than gentlemanly tendencies more often…

#ramona wildheart #plus size tav #jealous gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #tiefling tav #cleric tav #galemance #this fic came about because that post lol #they love each other your honor #chubby gale #plus size tiefling #ramona “my goddess is selune except in bed when it's gale” wildheart

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