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anantaru · 1 year

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— cute things they do unintentionally

including tighnari, scaramouche, alhaitham, kaveh x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, crack??, very sweet and loving, they adore you

— tighnari + his ears twitch and he blushes easily around you

the usual self assured and poised tighnari had a lovely habit of being all over the place in front of you— after all, he‘s unquestionably in love with you, wholly, and he adores you.

on the treacly occasion of that— when you decide to casually meet up for a tranquil walk with your sweet forest ranger or a serene spending at home enclosed by his arms, you can clearly see a diverse change in mannerism, yet one detail in particular outshines the others abundantly.

it‘s when he reacts at one of your jokes, but not just that, it can be a random notion or story you would happily talk about, what you happened to do these past hours you had been apart— perhaps a pretty rose catching your attention, its sprouting scent squaring over your nostrils, each petal so beautiful and soft— but his cheeks then idly bristle with a fire-like convulsion when you drift off into your day dream while hugging yourself into his chest, and tighnari shelters a pink color on his face.

regardless of how, his ears then, you called it! twitch.

once, twice, it's frantic, far and wide— but he knows what that feeling is too, he knows better than to desperately fight against it so instead he swiftly averts his gaze from you to recollect himself, somehow.

for tighnari, it was clear as day that this task was challenging, at bottom you were simply irresistible to him— you meet him and his breathing shortens, but he is content with you, yet wholly engulfed that it left him bereaved of required oxygen.

of course, well, this was indeed happening to him right now, but he asks himself, then grunts in frustration, not again, why must it always happen on the most burdensome times for him to lose himself, especially when he was just growing tired and had attempted to fall asleep surrounded by your consummating scent and weightless traces?

"is something the matter?"

it wasn't unusual for you to point out a dissimilarity of his habitual behavior, and your eyes were webbed with transparent worry that tighnari felt immensely guilty over, because it was him who inflicted it upon you.

to flip the coin into a distinct course of action, he says your name— a little breathy, silk-like— but it translates into the language of your heart and exudes into your body.

"i‘m alright, *cough* just caught something in my eye."

— scaramouche + gets all happy and excited when he tells you stories

scaramouche's velvety, smooth voice plays in your head on repeat, when he talks to you it's a sign of love, a sign of i want you to know this, or to elaborate further, it's evident to;

'i need you to know this because you're important to me and only you matter.'

you're fixated on his ecstatic sewn pupils and you openly admit to yourself that you cannot get enough of all the witty stories he would tell you on a daily basis— it did not matter to you how minuscule or of little importance they may be, what truly mattered was that scaramouche had begun to be more open and forthcoming towards you.

what your charming boyfriend was not aware of nor fathomed, was how contrasting his behavior would turn whenever he's thoroughly meshed in his story telling mode.

true feverishness and a drastic hurdle of thrill settles in his mannerism as he excitedly continues his own personal anecdotes of the passing day.

but those eyes, those spirited indigo eyes were vitally euphonious to the concealed dimples on his face that split larger after each new word spelled out, around the corners of his mouth to be exact, therefore accentuating his doughy, handsome physical responses.

extending far down, scaramouche was acquainted with undoubtable sureness that it was you who helped him grow, who showed him an escape route from the blooded thorns of his past.

"hey!" wow, what a way to snap you back to reality.

scaramouche sounded like he was in dire need of some attention from you and his hands were awkwardly tugged to each side of his body— though, let me get you in on a secret, the secret of all secrets, he actually longed to have them drawn on your frame, in effect, glissading them over your soft skin to pull you into a hug afterwards.

"are you even listening to me?!"

"of course i am!" you're lying, you're not.

in actuality you leaned into the delicious easement of your thoughts again— precisely about comforting memories from your boyfriend, even though he was right in front of you, in all of his splendor beauty, feeling understood even in your silence.

"okay, so what did i just say?"

"uhm."

damn you scaramouche and your refined ability to look right through someones skin and capture a glimpse of everything he needed to know.

"okay okay." you lean back into your chair— defeated, hands dramatically throw up in the air while fighting back the urge to say something that would drive your boyfriend off the edge.

but, at long last, you go in anyways, "you're just very cute." and it's the same again, his eyes widen in eternal radiance— rivaling celestial bodies in outer space while kuni seals his lips together in frustration because you managed to catch him off guard again.

the man huffs before erratically coughing out, attempting to distract you from his flustered face, but we all know he won't manage to accomplish that.

— alhaitham + scrunches his brows together when he complains about something

alhaitham abominates working. the end.

precisely supplemental hours of his existing work tasks that mostly focus on him aiding helpless akademiya scholars in their failing research.

while— being in a relationship with the acting grand sage of the sumeru akademiya naturally came with a lot of things, both good and bad feats— as might be expected the goods always outshine the negatives, you despite that understood your boyfriends increasing urge to get rid of his current title as fast as possible.

alhaitham was a busy man now, even busier than beforehand— and he regarded it with disgust, throughout-going abhorred it, that he couldn't come home at his routined time to spend some additional hours with you, his sweet significant other.

what alhaitham does know was that whenever he did arrive from a fatigued day— you will always, heavy emphasizing on the always, earnestly wait for him with a giant hot cup of tea being planted on the kitchen counter, on stand by and ready to be tasted by the man you loved like nothing else on this world.

"you're home later than usual."

a gasp of surprise evaporated from within as you began to point out the obvious, excitedly strolling towards alhaitham to gift him a proper welcome home, accentuating the passion filled gesture with a little peck on his warm cheek.

"it's unbelievable, isn't it?" someone must've woken up a tilt grumpy today, you figured, but let him carry on with his words.

"—and one might think that if there is nothing to do, i can simply take my leave." he continues, kicking his boots off his feet, one by one, while breathlessly sinking into the giant couch.

before the tea would turn cold, you decided to gracefully hand him the home made beverage, but not darting yourself off him, listening eagerly to what he had to say.

"but no, they need me for every. minuscule. task."

and alhaitham's eyes twitch, again— though his brows, they were pressed together so damn tight, if you didn't know any better you would've expected him to pop a blood vessel by now.

"do i look like i am interested in social interactions?" he asks you now, yes, dead serious while pulling you in with his hypnotizing eyes— although lifted with some serious eye bags, they continued to hold a graven significance that had you drawn to him the most.

but this situation was wearing thin, at least alhaitham was alarmingly more tested than usual, but at last you couldn't help yourself and work against your honest reactions, laughing at how awfully adorable he could be at times, without smiling— but it's so sudden, his face was showing so much emotions and it only encourages the sharp sting inside of you to giggle once again.

but do not get those particular things messed up nor into wrong directions— because seeing alhaitham have a hard time at work wasn't the humorous part at hand, it was the way he had told them to you— nose held up high while he repeatedly huffs away the bothering hair strands falling into his face, which only adds fuel to the burning frustration in himself, or his eyes a touch nudged together and rolling into the back of his head at each of his own sentences spoken.

an outer perspective would ultimately determine that he's in reality talking and agreeing with himself.

"have i unintentionally said something humorous?"

"no." you immediately snort back at him and swiftly rub over your saturated eyes, because yes, you indeed laughed yourself to tears.

"or maybe you did." and you idly lean next to him while keeping one hand on his thigh, "but you're home now, please rest."

perhaps this was what alhaitham had wanted to hear all this time— as the second you said it he exhales deeply, through his parted lips but greatly, he doesn't think he has any more energy left in his body if he was being honest.

but that's it now, it was the ideal time to rest, nothing matters, not the past nor the future. he was in the precious, safe confines of his home with the person he loves the utmost (and his roommate napping next doors).

"you're right, apologies." you immediately know alhaitham's embarrassed when he's muttering his words, but he feels his heart audibly beat in his chest and so do you.

"nothing to apologize for, my love."

— kaveh + searches for your touch whenever you spend time together

kaveh's heart blossoms throughout the entire day with an immediate segment of impassioned love the trifling moment he catches onto your silver like voice musing into his ears— thank the archons you‘re here, because he might‘ve lost his mind if he was about to stay without your company for much longer.

in point of fact, it's beyond easy to forget the pressuring hardships he has experienced in the past when he looks into nothing but your fascinating eyes— it's spellbound, featherlight.

on the other hand, in his own imagination, kaveh was sure that in reality he had nothing to offer back to you— even with you kindly assuring him that he’s nothing but the best and perfect in your eyes, over and over until it’s carved into his damned skull, he continues to harvest that deep rooted insecurity in him. although regardless of his broadening insecurities, he continues to treat you like you deserve nothing but the world.

it can be spoken with enormous confidence that he can‘t get enough of you. kaveh didn't think of wanting to show you off— or maybe he did but not in an over the top way, he was just so much in love with you and had made it his own personal achievement to make the entirety of sumeru know that you're taken, yes it's true, everyone keep their hands off you because you are taken, and he was the one who captured your heart.

now with that out of the way, whenever you would decide to go out on a walk or grab a beverage to go, kaveh would unintentionally plant his palm on your lower back, keeping it there.

or when you're enjoying a warm day outside, finding great comfort in the beautiful panorama of sumeru city with the gratifying scent of padisarah establishing in your nostrils, he'd cautiously flicker his fingers against your own while interlocking them in the process, so he could hold your hand and be with you, even closer than before, and experience those little things that had him weak on the knees and indisputably giddy.

he needs his hands on you— around your shoulders, scattered on your back, coupling fingers into each other or a fine-drawn peck on your cheek before entering the cafe together.

while he does most of those things unintentionally, you will push him over the edge the moment you initiate those things yourself, when it is you who does it to him— it's when his lips slightly part and his eyes are blown out with both surprise and deep rooted love, when you cheekily smile back at kaveh while taking his hand to walk and rush him towards another precious spot you had been made aware of in sumeru city.

"you'll love this place baby, trust me!"

you assure kindly, cheeks prickling a warm cradle with your belly welcoming the sweet butterflies courteously— pulling kaveh to the desired destination and by the matching reactions of your connected bodies, he does the same to you.

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kana-de · 7 months

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★ summary: wanderer x fem!reader. wanderer becomes a whining mess while you're making love.

☆ cw: nsfw. sex with feelings. you two are making love instead of fucking (i tried). wanderer is called kunikuzushi, kuni. wanderer is a whiny, whimpering mess while he tops you. could be read as fatui scara too if you'd like. 647 words.

☾ a/n: ngh. a small present for y'all since i'm ill again.

you swear to god you forget how to breathe when you hear wanderer's whimpers.

they come from his throat, soft, shy, like he can't fathom what he's feeling right now. his hips stutter as they press against your own, and his chest rises and falls in deep intervals. the grip he has on your hips is bruising, like he is holding onto you for dear life as he plunges his throbbing dick into your warm cunt.

"o-oh archons..." he groans, burying his nose in the crook of your neck and continuing the slow roll of his hips into you. its also dizzying how his tip bumps into your cervix and his pelvis rubs on your clit. indigo locks of his hair are sticking to his sweaty forehead and god, he's trying his best to suppress his moans by biting his lip, but its clearly not working.

wanderer looks so beautiful in this moment, his eyes closed, his jaw clenched, the way he holds himself up above you. the sheer pleasure etched on his face is enough to make your heart flutter.

"i can't... i can't take it anymore," he whispers hoarsely into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. he starts to thrust faster now, his hips moving in a rhythm that matches the pounding of blood in your ears.

he doesn't want to hurt you, but the look in his eyes contradicts him. he wants this. he wants to hear you scream and beg for more. to see the pleasure and pain etched on your face as he takes you higher and higher until you come apart in his arms.

his hips are moving more erratically now, each thrust making a smacking sound against your wet flesh.

"i- i don't wanna... i don't want to stop..." he moans, the look in his eyes almost pleading as he thrusts deeper into you. his hands grip your hips harder, leaving red marks that would surely bruise later.

"k-kunikuzushi- kuni, please..." you whine, not even knowing what you're asking him for, but the way his cock twitches, becoming painfully hard inside you - even when it seemed that there was nowhere harder for it to be.

his name on your lips feels like a bandage ripping off an open wound. it sends a shiver down his spine and makes him groan even louder. but it's not just the sound of his name that makes you tremble. it's the feeling of him inside you, the way he moves, the way he fills you up so perfectly...

wanderer's fingers dig into your hips harder, pulling you closer to him, making every thrust more intense. his other hand is now holding onto your waist, keeping you steady as he fucks you relentlessly, pace becoming uneven. he wants to be gentle, he really does, but this feeling, the way you feel wrapped around his cock, its way too much for wanderer.

he looks up at you, eyes wide and filled with a mix of lust, love, and small tear droplets in corners of his eyes. you feel so good around him that the poor boy can't help but almost cry. his lips part slightly, as if he wants to say something but can't find the words.

"i- i- fuck... [n-name]..." he whines, his voice cracking slightly in embarrassment or frustration. he looks down at your flushed skin, the way your breasts bounce when he thrusts into you, the way your wetness glistens against his cock. "you're so perfect."

he lets out a groan of frustration, but keeps moving slowly. he can feel his orgasm building up, like a storm brewing. and he wants to hold onto it. he wants to prolong this feeling for as long as possible.

"i-it feels so good," wanderer whispers, his voice thick with desire. "i don't wanna cum yet... but i can't help it, [name], i just can't."

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reaveries · 1 year

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▬ 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲

gif credit to @robpattinsongifs (much higher resolution on their account)

summary: late-night visits from your definitely human boyfriend

pairings: edward cullen x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k (approximately 7 minutes reading time)

a/n: I’ve had this baby marinating in my drafts since January, when I was going through my bi-annual Twilight Renaissance. I was actually in the middle of writing a RE2R Leon Kennedy fic today and decided to put on a twilight playlist, and then I just knew I had to finish this one. It’s my first *published* non-RDR fic heehee (I have so much in my drafts, it’s insane). Anyways, enjoy (pardners)!

masterlist archive of our own

It’s that dreadful time of year again.

The sun is making its curtain call as students from the nearby elementary school trip over themselves running home. Little girls and boys have sticky remnants of lunch peeking from the corners of their mouths and the grass is still slick from morning showers. But dusk is impatient in February, and its eagerness is encouraged in a town hidden beneath perpetual overcast nine months out of the year.

The school children ran past her window minutes ago when the sky had been painted brilliant indigo. Now, when she looks up the only thing left to see is her own dark reflection and the warm orange glow from a candle on the sill. Its tall flame stutters, collapsing and rising with the damp breeze.

A page turns, disrupting the otherwise quiet room. The only other noise that can be heard is a soft pitter of water dripping onto the floorboards from a coat hanging off the closet door.

She reaches for a mug sitting on the corner of her nightstand and promptly sets it back down upon finding it empty. It returns to its spot atop crumpled receipts and library hold slips belonging to the growing stack of books accumulating dust at her bedside. These books tower over the permanent nightstand residents: lazily discarded beaded necklaces, a sample bottle of floral perfume from Christmas, two little ceramic bunnies purchased from an antique mall in Port Angeles last summer, car keys, and drugstore chapstick. It might be worth convincing her to let go of some of these post-object permanence discoveries, but that is a matter for another time.

In a desperate attempt to comprehend the words she’s reading, she rolls onto her back and extends her arms straight in the air so the book hovers a foot from her face—a change of perspective to freshen the mind.

It does not help.

No matter how much she shifts or squints, the antiquated prose remains stubbornly uninviting. She can’t fathom why anyone would willingly subject themselves to something so archaic and convoluted and furthermore, recommend it as one of their favorite novels.

With a huff, she adjusts the headphones at her ears, hoping the music will clear her mind. But despite her best efforts, the book slowly drifts closer to her chest and her eyelids grow heavier as the music lulls her into a dreamless sleep.

When she wakes to cold fingers grazing her jaw it’s impossible to tell whether she’d fallen asleep or if she just blinked. The weight of the headphones gently disappears as they’re pulled off and set down on the nightstand. She grumbles incoherently and stretches out her legs, not unlike a cat after a long, difficult day of lounging around. Her eyes begrudgingly flutter open and immediately find him only inches away. He’s watching her, peering down with a twinkle in his amber-colored eyes.

“Edward…” she whispers.

“Dracula,” he says, eyebrows raised as he makes the observation. “I thought you didn’t like Gothics.”

She reaches a finger into the book on her chest and folds the page over before tossing it carelessly into the sea of knitted and quilted blankets at the foot of the bed. With the haze of sleep still clouding her eyes, she smiles sheepishly up at him.

“I’m trying.”

He chuckles lightly and brings his hand to her hair again, brushing stray strands off her forehead and tucking them behind her ears before leaning down to place a chaste kiss above her eyes. Though his lips are soft, the icy touch of his skin sends a shiver down her spine. He’s always cold; a result of his anemia, he says. However, the downpour that's dampened his hair and clothes to his skin has chilled him even more so.

In an effort to sit up, she raises herself onto her elbows and catches a glimpse of the bright red digital numbers on her bedside clock.

“You’re late, you know,” she chides, watching him settle uncomfortably at the head of the bed. He sinks down among the pillows, their plushness contrasting humorously with the stiffness of his demeanor. He reaches behind his back and tugs free a stuffed rabbit lodged between him and the headboard, then sets it down softly beside himself.

“I had to make a quick stop. I hope you can forgive me,” he says in a hushed voice, so as not to make too much noise in the resting house. His eyes flit towards the nightstand and she follows them to see a new item sitting amongst the disorder. A tall styrofoam cup with steam rising thinly from the lid. Coffee.

The mug she just finished sits right beside it. She’d considered brewing more but that was before being rendered unconscious by Bram Stoker nearly an hour ago. Her heart swells at his thoughtfulness, but a more pressing question comes to mind before she can voice her gratitude.

“How did you even climb up here with that?” She asks, reaching for the cup with both hands.

“I’m very…agile.” There’s a look in his eyes that tells her there’s more to it, but she chooses to ignore it for now with a shake of her head.

The taste is immediately harsh, significantly more bitter than how she makes it herself. Any trace of a smile dissipates and is replaced with a pronounced look of disgust.

“Good God, Edward,” she exclaims. “Decaf? What did I ever do to you?”

He laughs and takes it from her hands, leaving her still reeling from the unexpected taste. “As much as I love staying up with you, you need sleep,” he says, a hint of sternness in his voice. “You didn’t get any last night and you don’t hide it well.”

He says the last part sweetly, tilting his head to the side and following her motions with his eyes, watching her pick up the stuffed rabbit by its cotton paw.

“Don’t hide it well?” She repeats, the indignation in her voice contrasting with the softness of the toy as she raises it high into the air and brings it down against his chest with a soft thud. “Well maybe I wouldn’t have to hide anything if you—weren’t—keeping—me—up—all—night!”

With every word, the rabbit hits his forearms poorly attempting to shield himself from the blows. Edward grins as she attacks him, the soft toy barely making a sound against his arms. He watches as her hair falls across her face in the midst of the unrelenting attack, the warm glow of the candle casting a soft halo around her.

But then, his amusement fades as he sees the exhaustion in her eyes.

He gently takes the rabbit from her and sets it aside before grabbing her arm mid-swing and pulling her into his chest. She sighs heavily and surrenders, relaxing against him. "I’m sorry," he whispers, his lips brushing against her hair. “I’ll let you rest tonight.”

Despite his tender words, a residual half-baked frustration lingers inside her. “How did you manage to stay awake in class?” she mumbles into his sweater, the words muffled. “I mean, you didn’t get any sleep either.”

He chuckles, as if privy to some inside joke.

“Well, someone had to take your notes for you,” he says, his fingers trailing through her hair in a soothing motion. “And besides, you looked so peaceful drooling away.”

She looks up at him, a hint of a drowsy smile playing at the corners of her lips. “I did not drool,” she insists.

He grins down at her, his eyes alight with fondness. “Of course not.”

She groans and buries her head into his chest, to which he responds by encircling his arms around her waist and pulling her closer.

“I’m never falling asleep in front of you again,” she grumbles.

His chest rumbles beneath her cheek as he laughs. “Alright, angel.”

He shifts his hand from the crown of her head to the curve of her back, tracing languid circles over the fabric of her t-shirt as the room fills with a comfortable silence. The rain outside grows heavier, tapping against the glass with a more insistent force. Her body is warm against his and he can feel the steady thumping of her heartbeat as if it's his own. A few minutes slip by, and he senses her breathing even out and deepen. Without disturbing her, he reaches for a nearby blanket and drapes it over her, then turns his gaze to the candle on the windowsill.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispers, as the dwindling flame fades out of focus.

This is his favorite part of the day.

Vague arrays of soft, muted hues and shapes swirl around in his vision, overtaking the warm surroundings of her bedroom. They morph into recognizable figures after some time, and he can hear them speaking when he focuses. For the most part, they sound as if he’s underwater and they’re conversing on the shore. But every now and then, a clear phrase emerges.

Suddenly, the floating shapes assimilate into a figure resembling him and he realizes what this dream is. It’s a recurring one he’s particularly fond of. He settles in and pulls her closer as the scene ebbs between reality and distortions of the unconscious mind.

He can’t remember how he used to pass the night hours before he met her. Books, records, films--looking back, they feel hollow compared to nights spent like this. Part of him hopes he’ll never know what it's like to want for this. But these dreams, and her thoughts in the waking hours, assure him he won’t ever have to find out.

#twilight #twilight fanfic #edward cullen #edward cullen x y/n #edward cullen x reader #the twilight saga #twilight 2008

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meroaw · 1 year

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Fathom x Indigo

#fathom #indigo #wings of fire #wof #wof fanart #wof fans #fanart #art #artist #digital art #dragon #dragon art #meroaw wings of fire #meroaw wings of fire designs #wings of fire art #darkstalker legends #seawing #seawings

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prolix-yuy · 10 months

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I got honey bear and I think it would perfectly fit our underrated hedonistic feral trashpanda of a man, Ezra 👀

Thank you, LJ! 🥰

Darling Fanna, you know I had to give you the best I could possibly fathom. You are always so supportive and kind, and the best way I could think of to thank you was to make Ezra get absolutely WRECKED.

Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader

Position: Honey Bear

Word Count: 1917 (a big sendoff for a wonderful bangathon!)

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, bisexual reader, Dom!Reader, bratty switch!Ezra, mentions of wlw, allusions to oral sex (f receiving), masturbation, oral sex (m receiving), anal play, rimming (m receiving), fingering (m receiving), biting, brief noncon thought (not acted on), cum play, cum eating/swapping, everyone is filthy and having a great time.

Notes: Here it is! The final Bangathon request! And I tried my hardest to make it as filthy, as bangable, as explosive as possible for an excellent finish! (how many more sex jokes can I cram in here?) Thank you for giving me the perfect final request, and thank everyone for reading and coming on this sexy month-long sleepover with me!

The moment you rise to the challenge, you know you’ve made a mistake.

The other prospectors in your group had been drinking, something strong and sour-sweet they must have brewed from the plant life. Algora had many mysterious treasures hidden amongst its flora, including the delicate stamens from an indigo-gold flower you were collecting. You’d taken a few too many swigs of the hooch yourself, chasing the rotten flavor with faux chocolate ration bars. The slow unclenching of your muscles must have also unfurled your tongue when they began bragging of conquests.

“So much talk for a bunch of men who’ve never made a woman cum,” you drawl out, the boisterous negations rising as you slide your eyes to your target. Ezra - loquacious, boastful, self-assured survivor of the Green - doesn’t add to the noise. Instead he traces the inseam of his pants, and flickers his eyes up to catch yours. You hold them, challenging, but he only lets a secret smile curl his lip.

“And how many have you made crash against the rocks of pleasure, Quick?” he says, voice carrying over the din even though he barely raises it. The men simmer at the stare-down. Ezra had given them all cutting nicknames, but your own - quicklime, caustic, harsh, explosive - gave you a thrill you’d never admit.

“Many more than you,” you shoot back, peeling your fingers into a V and flicking your tongue lewdly between them. The men shout and jeer, but their voices fade into obscurity as you stand against the man who’d been haunting your nights. Stalking outside your tent, sometimes lingering too long, his shadow stretched across the canvas. More than once you’d admired his silhouette jerking off as quietly as possible, prideful lust burning through your veins. Let him look on and desire, you’d think before indulging yourself.

“Maybe so,” Ezra says nonchalantly, tossing back the last of the foul liquor and licking the pad of his thumb. Your cunt aches, too long without a satisfying partner, and too much alcohol pulsing in your intimate flesh.

“Don’t be sore, Ez, I could ruin you just as well,” you toss out, throat closing up the moment you say it. The challenge is too bold in such company, but it’s too late to take it back. Ezra’s eyes blaze, the sharp flash of teeth catching the light before smoothing into a bored eyebrow raise.

“Maybe so.”

You excuse yourself soon after, whoops and promises of mind-blowing nights following. You wave them off dismissively, knowing not a single man would dare try and test your patience. Rickel still has trouble kneeling from the slash you gave the inside of his thigh. Stripping down in your tent, you scrub the sweat and grime from your body. As the mud joins the rest on your dirt floor, the zip of your tent opens. Fury burns quick and hot in your chest, snatching at a knife by the bucket and spinning around.

“Your offer intrigued me.”

Ezra steps inside the tent flap, zipping it shut behind him. Lowering the knife, you stand in naked glory, preening while his dark eyes roam your wet skin. He lingers by your throat, and the thatch of curls framing your sex.

“I wondered when you might gather up the courage to come inside,” you say, toweling yourself dry as he steps closer.

“Does it not make your heart race, standing just on the precipice of something?” Ezra reaches for your skin, but you toss the sopping rag at him instead.

“You're filthy. If you want to know my touch, clean yourself first.”

You actually prefer it that way, musky and sweaty when you indulge, but delight in Ezra following orders. He strips free of his sweat-stained clothing, squeezing water over the hard planes of his back. Even reaching for your soap, lathering it in his armpits, scrubbing his fingernails, and then sudsing his cock. His eyes hood with desire as he strokes himself, letting you watch him grow generously. Another squeeze of water leaves bubbles to pop in the dirt, and Ezra drying himself with your towel.

“Lie down,” you order, and he obeys with amusement in his eyes. You suspect he’s often the one in charge, but his flushed cock twitches at your tone. “Arms up,” you add, and while he raises his eyebrows he lifts his hands above his head, resting them on the pillow under it.

By Kevva he looks gorgeous like this, a feast to be devoured. You hurry to straddle him, sliding your fingers up his arm to press his hands into the bed.

“You promised ruin,” he teases, lifting his jaw to steal a kiss, but you raise just out of reach. The distraction is perfect, because just as he pouts you close the restraints around his wrists.

The change is electric; his face hardens, eyes turning flinty and indignant with the start of anger, but you grip his chin and hold him to your gaze.

“You’ll have to trust me,” you say. The moment crackles between you, waiting for him to refuse. Instead he lays back and chuckles.

“You know, with this right hand I can easily escape these bonds,” he says, and you catch him trying to gain advantage. Sliding off his lap, you slip between his thighs instead.

“Does it feel pain?” you ask, dragging your nails slowly down his chest. He arches, a strangled noise in his throat. A pearly drop of precum beads at the tip of his cock, and you spread it across his silky head.

“Not a lick,” he chokes out. Leaning forward, your hips pressing into the cradle of his, you sink your teeth into his bicep just below the pink line of his true flesh. Fisting his cock, you rut your hips into him, a firm stroke up and down punching a groan from Ezra’s slack lips. The prosthetic flesh feels realistic, and something primal, animal, roars forward. You bite as hard as you can, past the point where you would have drawn blood, and let the adrenaline rush through. Humping into Ezra’s taut body, you jerk his cock in time with your panted breaths, feral with his body finally at your will.

“Quick, fuck, vicious little thing,” Ezra snarls, pulling against the restraints but not breaking free. You release, sitting back on your heels and admiring the ring of teeth you’ve left on his faux skin.

“You’ll have ruin, Ez,” you say, voice thick with promise as you shuffle down to your elbows. He watches you with hazy curiosity as you lift his legs over your shoulders, knees hinging to grip your back. He keens out, and you’re suddenly very aware of how empty and dripping your cunt is.

“If your sharp mouth has anything to do with it, I will not have the resolve to resist for long,” he hisses, hips canting as he tries to reach your lips. You reward him with a kiss to the tip and a swirl of your tongue, but dip lower instead.

“You’ll just have to try harder,” you challenge before pushing his thighs up and pressing your tongue to his tender asshole. There’s no gentle warm-up; you roll and flutter the muscle hard against his tight ring. Ezra’s hips shoot up off the bed, the rattle of the restraints loud and frantic.

“Fuck, Quick, fuck, fuck, by Kevva, you’re…never…I’ve…stop, please, I can’t…you’re…” Ezra can barely make a thought, which brings more pride than you thought you could gain from wrecking his perspective on pleasure. You continue your onslaught, easing back enough to let him catch his breath before forcefully fucking him with your clever tongue. You’d eaten out women who writhed and begged less, and every plea and racking sob you pull from his battered throat goes straight to your cunt. Wishing you’d fitted one of your toys in your neglected pussy, you settle for rocking against the worn mattress, just enough pressure to ease some of your mounting need.

Once you set a steady rhythm of stroking his weeping cock and breaching his greedy ass, you know he’s done for. He roars through clenched teeth, half-formed promises of how he’ll fuck you until you can’t speak, the debauched things he wants to do to you. You reward the ones you like with a scrape of your teeth, jolting his hips under your mouth.

“Quick, please,” he groans, the edge of his sanity lost in his voice. You finally relent, lifting your head and glowing at his flushed body, shaking with unshed tears.

“Tell me,” you order, and everything stops. That’s worse for him, his hips punching up as he struggles to focus.

“Can you be…inside me?” he asks, voice raw from overuse. You smirk at him, wiggling your free fingers.

“How many?”

Ezra’s head lolls back as he heaves in a breath. “Two. Please, two.”

Slicking your fingers with spit, you circle his rim. “Deep breath, then let it out.” Ezra complies, and at the top of his sigh you slide your fingers in. The rest of his breath whooshes out, clamping down on the tips.

“Relax,” you soothe, giving him a few strokes up and down his cock to redirect his attention. When he’s still tight and shuddering you scold, “Ez, if you don’t relax I’m gonna have to force them in.”

“Fuck!” he curses, and a new wave of slick gathers in your folds. Would he like that? You taking what you want from him, pleasure be damned? Or would that only make it better for him? You lower your voice, huskier, sultrier.

“Take them, Ez.”

Just like that he relaxes around you, letting you slide in to your knuckles.

“See? Isn’t that good?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to fuck you now, Ez?”

“Please, Quick. Want it so bad.”

You rock your fingers inside him, finding the soft spot that rolls his eyes back and lengthens his neck. He’s close, cock impossibly hard in your hand and toes curling against your back. Grinding against the bed you chase your own pleasure, waiting for his body to tense up hard before wrapping your lips around his head and flooding your mouth. He snaps his hips up sharply, spilling his seed with frantic shouts and gasps.

You work him through the aftershocks, holding his cum on your tongue until he’s beginning to soften in your mouth. Lifting off, you slip his legs back to the bed and lean over his chest, lips pursed. Before you can dribble his own spend back on his overheated skin, he opens his mouth and lays out his tongue. Your cunt clenches, crawling up his body as he waits patiently. Opening your mouth, you let his cum slide from your tongue to his, finally sealing your lips together. He licks greedily in, swallowing down his taste. You groan, tangling your fingers in his hair and smearing your neglected cunt against his stomach. When you finally come up for air, his eyes are glassy and ravenous.

“Now yours,” he says, a weak order but one you’re willing to follow.

“Let me take these off you,” you say, fingers circling his chafed wrists. He shakes his head, lifting his chin with that wicked smile returning to his sinful lips.

“Once I get my hands on you, Quick, you’ll truly be done for.”

Straddling his face, you put a firm hand in his short hair. “Maybe so.”

Unfortunately for your productivity the following day, he’s right.

END

LJ’s Bangathon 2023

#ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect fic #ezra prospect fanfiction #prospect fanfic #prolix fics

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downbad4fyodor · 5 months

Text

Pairing: Dazai Osamu and Chuuya Nakahara x Fem!reader word count: 868 summary: You decided to go Christmas caroling, but Dazai and Chuuya wouldn't stop fighting warnings: none Tag list: @getousrep

Want more Fics for the Holidays?

The winter night unfolded like a tapestry of silver and indigo, the moon casting its gentle glow upon the silent streets adorned with a fresh blanket of snow. Bundled against the chill, you, Dazai, and Chuuya ventured forth on a Christmas caroling odyssey. The jingling of bells hung from your coats created a festive overture as you stepped into the crystalline night, carrying with you the promise of harmonious melodies and seasonal cheer. Little did you fathom that beneath the facades of Yuletide joy, a tempest of tensions swirled between Dazai and Chuuya.

The journey commenced with a harmonious promise as you approached the first house. The jingle of bells, like ethereal chimes, resonated with the winter silence. "Deck the Halls" emerged from the trio's lips, voices intertwining in a festive symphony. Yet, keen eyes could detect the subtle nuances in the exchanged glances between Dazai and Chuuya, a quiet prelude to the discord that loomed.

At the doorstep of the next house, the notes of "Jingle Bells" drifted into the night, but the harmony wavered as the camaraderie fractured. Beneath the surface of the festive melody, a clandestine bickering threatened to eclipse the joy. Chuuya's gaze bore a disapproving weight, met by Dazai's nonchalant shrug. The once seamless chorus now echoed with an undertone of unspoken disagreement.

The third house, an unsuspecting audience to the carolers, received the strains of "Silent Night" that carried a clandestine tension. Whispered arguments punctuated the serene melody, each word a sharp note in the air. Passersby, wrapped in scarves and coats, observed the trio, their obliviousness a stark contrast to the internal strife that played out.

A spirited rendition of "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" marked a turning point. The latent animosity between Dazai and Chuuya reached a crescendo, and the festive illusion threatened to shatter. Words, like icicles, hung in the frosty air, sharp and brittle. Yet, miraculously, the carol persisted, though the veneer of enthusiasm now bore the weight of unspoken grievances.

Approaching the next house, the animosity reached a zenith. "O Holy Night" became an ironic backdrop to their silent warfare, and "Joy to the World" felt like a distant echo of shared sentiment dissipating in the cold. The harmonious spirit of Christmas caroling transformed into a battleground, the strains of the carol now a mere backdrop to the snide remarks and simmering resentment.

The tension climaxed at the last house, where a silent agreement passed between Dazai and Chuuya. The finale, "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing," should have been a triumphant crescendo, yet the strained smiles and exchanged glances betrayed the tumult beneath the surface.

Retreating from the final doorstep, the trio navigated the snowy streets in a hushed atmosphere. The moonlight, which earlier bathed everything in a soft glow, now cast a somber hue on the night. The unresolved discord hung in the air like a lingering note, a poignant contrast to the picturesque scene around.

Silence prevailed until the trio reached home, where the frosty air seemed to mirror the unspoken tension. The moonlight, now filtered through frosted windows, illuminated Dazai and Chuuya's strained expressions. The unresolved differences, disguised beneath layers of caroling and festive trappings, cast a shadow over the night that should have been a celebration of harmony and joy.

Once inside, the silence lingered, echoing in the spacious room. The moonlight spilled through the windows, casting elongated shadows that mirrored the unresolved intricacies of the evening. Dazai, leaning against the wall, broke the silence. "Well, that was an interesting caroling adventure, wouldn't you say?"

Chuuya, his arms crossed, shot a sharp glance at Dazai. "Interesting? That was a disaster. I can't believe you had to turn every note into a competition."

Dazai, with a nonchalant grin, retorted, "Competition spices things up, don't you think? Adds a little drama to the festivities."

Chuuya, his irritation palpable, scoffed. "Drama? I thought we were here to spread holiday cheer, not engage in a verbal sparring match."

The room, now illuminated by the soft glow of the moon, became a stage for the verbal jousting between the two. The unresolved tension crackled in the air, creating an atmosphere that stood in stark contrast to the serene, festive expectations of the night.

You, caught in the crossfire of their verbal volleys, attempted to mediate. "Come on, guys. It's Christmas. Can't we just enjoy the night without turning it into a battlefield?"

Dazai, ever the provocateur, smirked. "Why not? A little drama never hurt anyone. Besides, it adds character to the otherwise mundane caroling tradition."

Chuuya, visibly exasperated, shook his head. "Character? This is not a play. It's a celebration of the season. Can't we at least agree on that?"

As the verbal spar continued, the moonlight continued to cast its soft glow upon the room, creating an otherworldly ambience. The unresolved tensions, though palpable, stood in stark contrast to the festive decorations that adorned the space.

The night, which started as a journey of caroling camaraderie, now concluded with a tableau of discord and disagreement. The moon, a silent witness, cast its gentle glow upon the room, a subtle reminder that even in the midst of celebration, unresolved differences could cast shadows over the festive spirit.

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