#playing with fire perhaps but if you are annoying to me about this keep in mind you are easy to block | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imagines--galore · 1 year

Text

||Theatrics||

Summary: During a little impromptu training session, you happen to sprain your ankle. Luckily Zuko is around to help you back to Katara so she can help. Unfortunately for Zuko, you have a tendency to be slightly dramatic about your injuries.

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. Fluff. Slight mention of injury but that about it.

A/N: You guys voted, so here it is! Also gif is definitely Zuko’s reactions to reader’s.....theatrics :3

"I’m dying!”

“You’re not dying Y/n.”

“Then why is the world growing dark!?”

“You probably have your eyes closed.”

"I do not need your sass while I am dying Zuko!”

“Well maybe you should shut up before I drop your dying butt.”

Smack.

“Ow!”

“Rude Zuko!”

“Thats it! You can crawl back for all I care.”

“No! Wait! Zuko! Wait!! I’ll be quiet.”

“One more word out of you, and I won’t carry you back.”

Katara looked up from where she had been mending Sokka’s shirt, again. There was no one in sight yet Zuko and Y/n’s voices were loud enough to echo along the path leading up to the main courtyard of the Ember Island Summer House. She stood, dropping her sewing to side as she quickly made her way towards the door and peered outside.

It took a minute or so, but then she saw the approaching figure of Zuko with.......you on his back. An amused smile played across the young waterbender’s lips as she watched the Fire Nation prince approach with you slung over his back, your arms wrapped around his shoulders to keep yourself in place.

“Katara! Oh! Now I won’t perish! Or perhaps I will? The pain is too much.” You moaned, throwing your head back for dramatic effect, the force of which nearly made Zuko stumble in his steps. Katara giggled as Zuko huffed in annoyance.

“She twisted her ankle.” He explained as he carried you into the courtyard with Katara trailing behind.

“And who’s fault is that? If you hadn’t startled me during my practice then I wouldn’t have twisted it.” You snapped back. Clearly the pain was making you more then a little cranky.

Zuko rolled his eyes, turning around and dropping you, rather unceremoniously onto the wooden platform that led to the rooms. You gave a little yelp, glaring at the Prince who smirked back as you rubbed your tailbone a little. Katara, ever the kind soul, carefully removed your shoe. You let out a soft hiss as the leather was slipped off.

Removing the cork from her water pouch, Katara made quick work of assessing the damage. “Well you definitely twisted it. I’ll try to heal it as much as I can, but it’ll be a little while before you’re able to walk on it properly. Probably a day or two.” You turned to glare at Zuko who rolled his eyes. “I’ve blasted you off the side of a flying bison Y/n. I don’t see you holding a grudge about that against me.” He said, referring to the days when he had spent chasing Aang and the rest of them.

“Yeah, well I got my revenge when I knocked you out with a blow to the back of your head.” As Katara started her healing process you held up a threatening finger in his direction. “You better watch out Princey, I will have my revenge.”

Zuko smirked. “What will you do? Hobble after me waving a crutch?” You growled under your breath, looking like you would leap at him at any moment. And if your ankle wasn’t throbbing so much you would have.

“Now now children. Lets not fight.” Katara said in a mocking tone as she tried to contain her laughter. You let out a small sound of relief as some of the throbbing was alleviated as Katara worked her healing abilities. “You’re a spirit-send Katara.” You said, gratitude shining in your eyes as you grinned at the girl.

Zuko frowned. “What am I? An ostrich-horse? I carried you back and you don’t call me a spirit-send.” You turned your attention back towards him, an annoyed frown creasing your forehead. “And who’s fault was it that you had to carry me back?”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“I am a performer, I’m supposed to be dramatic.”

“Over dramatic you mean.”

“Need I remind you, the acting company I worked for won awards for being one of the best in the Earth Kingdom.”

“Probably when you weren’t working for them.”

“As if your dramatic self is any better? Out of all of us, who’s the one moaning about his so-called honor all the time?”

“That was in the past.”

“The past was only a couple months ago, Princey.”

“Shut it Drama Queen.”

“Ah! At least I’m a rank above you, you fire-breathing-”

“Er.....guys?”

You and Zuko broke eye-contact to glare at the poor unsuspecting Avatar who had just arrived from the market with Sokka, Suki and Toph from an errand run.

“What?” The two of you snapped in unison, prompting Aang to let out a nervous laugh and slowly back off, holding his hands up in a surrendering manner.

Taking the lull in the argument, Katara quickly finished bandaging up your ankle and patted it in a reassuring manner. “There, you’ll be all better tomorrow.” You gave a small smile in thanks to the girl before gripping the sides of the wooden platform and slowly starting to stand. You tried putting some weight on your bad ankle, only to wince at the pain that radiated from there. It was much better then what it had been a few moments ago, but it still hurt.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I shall be retiring to my room.” With a haughty look in Zuko’s direction, you turned towards where you room was.

"Isn’t our room upstairs Y/n?”Toph helpfully reminded you, causing you to pause from hobbling forward. Your face fell, shoulders slumping, causing Sokka to let out a bark of laughter, only to shut up when Suki gave his shoulder a light punch.

“Hey Aang? Can Appa drop me into my room through the window?” You asked, turning to the younger boy with a pleading look. Before Aang could reply, Zuko let out a loud groan, throwing his head back to stare at the sky as he growled.

"For the love of Spirits!”

With that he stomped forward, and before you even got the chance to say anything, he had lifted you off the ground, one arm secured around your waist, the other under your knees to keep you from falling. Meanwhile, you had let out a shriek of surprise, your arms coming to wrap around his shoulders.

“If we want to defeat the Father Lord, you’d better start laying off from the FireFlakes.” He grumbled as he began to carry you towards the stairs.

“Its Fire Lord, and are you insinuating that I am fat?!”

“I said that! And I’m not insinuating, I’m stating a fact.”

Thwack!

“Ow! Will you stop hitting me?!”

“Then stop being so rude. I thought Prince’s were all about manners and chivalry when it comes to ladies.”

“Lady? You? Please! Toph is much more of a lady then you are.”

Thwack!

“You hit me one more time and I’ll drop you on these stairs.”

“Do it! I’d rather crawl up then be carried by you anyway!”

“Ungrateful brat!”

“Pouty prince!”

“Drama queen!”

“Honor bound jerk!”

Your voices started to muffle to the rest of the group as the two of you walked further into the house. The younger members of the group stood where they were, a little dumbfounded at what had just occurred.

“I bet you anything these two are gonna be even worse with their flirting when they get married.”

Sokka gaped at Toph, who stood there smirking.

“That was flirting?!” He exclaimed, prompting his girlfriend to roll her eyes at her boyfriend, smiling at how oblivious Sokka could be. Aang blinked his wide grey eyes. “You know, now that I think about it, whenever we fought Zuko in the past, Y/n always had something to say to him.”

“And he always said something back.” Katara added, the laughter obvious in her tone as she continued to listen to the muffled arguing through the wooden floor above.

#zuko x reader #zuko imagine #zuko x y/n #Avatar The Last Airbender #atla imagine

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rggie · 2 years

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twst boys as babysitters

characters: leona kingscholar, malleus draconia, vil schoenheit

summary: cheka comes to visit leona! instead of being a responsible adult, leona throws the burden onto you … and the poor unfortunate soul that happened to be with you at the time. tldr; twst boys as babysitters

cw: established relationship, gn!reader, crack & fluff, sfw. not proof read. wc: 1.5k+

leona kingscholar

“oi, herbivore. got you something.” leona calls, dragging his feet into your room, hands hidden behind his back. “early birthday present. keep this one forever.”

oh dear

now you’re no stranger to receiving gifts from your boyfriend (though he won’t admit that he likes to spoil you) but something about his tone makes you worry.

surprise!!!! he raises cheka above his head, who squeals with delight at the motion, making grabby hands when he sees you. you’re his favourite person after his uncle leona, after all!

cue a moment of silence … you’re staring at leona, he’s staring at you … and cheka … is still raised in the air.

“leona, stop dumping things on me all the time.”

“but he likes you. take care of him for me.” which actually means ‘he’s disturbing my sleep and i need to get him off my back.’

you refuse, obviously, and propose that the pair of you babysit together. you’re meeting him halfway.

leona agrees too quickly. perhaps he wants to spend time with you—and okay, maybe he missed cheka too. the little brat.

there is something so endearing about the way leona interacts with his nephew

leona, who has an abundance of smarts and strength, is nothing more but a flickering candlelight when put against the blazing fire that is cheka kingscholar.

his power knows no bounds.

if you’re stuck with these two, expect a lot of play-fights

leona complains and verbalises very often how annoying it is, yet never bothers to physically remove cheka off him. he simply takes the hits, feigning pain afterwards.

“that really hurt. i’m tired now.” leona, be for real. just admit you’re a softie

but beware. if he’s in the mood, he might fight back. and leona shows NO mercy.

it doesn’t matter that cheka is a child! he’s preparing him for the REAL world

oh boy, here come the crocodile tears

when cheka is tired out, it’s time for leona’s favourite time of the day.

no, not lunch time, nap time!!!!

you know the saying two’s company, three’s a crowd? you’re spooning on a bed that’s definitely not made for three.

leona’s arms are strung loosely around your waist, his head in the nook of your neck

cheka is curled up in a little ball against your chest

it’s kind-of a squeeze, but it’s also comforting, their soft snores filling the otherwise quiet room

until cheka wakes up again, and this time he has his eyes on another opponent.

you.

malleus draconia

you’re trying to introduce malleus to your favourite shows, and he’s slowly getting into them as well

in fact, maybe he’s teleported outside your door in order to find out what happens in the next episode of the said show, and not because he wants to be with you.

he rings the door once, then twice, then thrice, but you don’t show up

he knows you’re a busy person, so he tries his hardest to be patient. either way, he’s certain he’d wait eons for you if that’s what you asked him to do.

when you turn up with leona’s nephew in his hands, he …

well, he doesn’t do anything at all, actually

he doesn’t even ask about it. you guys just carry on and sit in ramshackle as if everything is normal.

like hello???? are we going to address the furball other than grim in the room or not?

cheka: *scratching malleus’ horns like they’re ears*

malleus: ???? This Is Fine.

the truth is he’s scared

he’s malleus draconia, a fae feared by all—rendered immobile by a child attempting to swing from his horns.

you’re shocked he’s just letting it happen… he’s just sitting staring at the tv screen as if nothing is bothering him, but his whole body is visibly tense.

cheka is a talkative kid, and malleus is fascinating to him, so he just has so many questions! “why are you so tall?” “are you really a fairy?” “why don’t you look like the ones in storybooks?” “are your horns even real?”

“i don’t know. why don’t you check for me?” it’s an invitation for cheka to go wild, to do as he pleases

except malleus is NOT smiling, so it goes unnoticed

cheka is like :3 and malleus is like : |

malleus doesn’t want to scare the cub away, he wants to chat with him! he wants to play!!!

but he lacks the verbal skills to communicate properly

he thinks back to silver as a young boy and finds a way to keep cheka entertained

“little lion, would you like to spar?”

malleus, no!!!!???

silver may have been training at a young age, but this is different. he was not raised by two fae.

despite your desperate pleas, cheka agrees.

malleus is grinning, a rare sight—its giddy and goofy and so youthful, you don’t have the heart to stop them

they sit crossed-legged on your bed with spoons for swords, violently clashing against each other

malleus is REALLY serious about it, though. he’s smiling, but he’s also teaching cheka at the same time

“good one.” “this is your opponents’ blind spot.” “you should try this on your uncle leona.”

oh.

you’re starting to think he’s doing this purposely.

but this is the most fun you’ve seen him have in a while, so you suppose leona will just have to pay the price of leaving cheka in your care.

vil schoenheit

why on earth is leona’s nephew sitting in pomefiore’s lounge, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?

he has half the mind to curse out leona next time he sees the beastman, but then you appear behind him.

his frown and his thoughts falter a little. (his lips subconsciously pull upwards into a smile whenever he’s around you. it really is a bother that he cannot control his emotions better, considering he’s an actor.)

“did you bring him here?” he points at cheka, tone accusatory, but lacking any real bite.

all he wanted was to spend time with you. now he’s plagued by some child who didn’t even know the basic instruction ‘sit.’

upon closer inspection, he shrieks and moves backwards from cheka quickly.

“prefect, where are his shoes??”

“…”

you’re joking, right? please tell him you’re joking.

“so you’ve been having him walk around OUTSIDE barefoot?”

“he’s just … one with nature!” you laugh lightly to quell his anger.

he is not laughing. not this time.

Mother Nature may be smiling down on Cheka, but Vil Schoenheit is not.

his feet. his feet.

those feet have been walking all over the school, who-knows-where, and now they were padding across his previously immaculate carpet. holy seven, he thinks he sees the shape of a foot-print staining the floor already.

that’s it. it’s bath time, he declares, demanding you to swoop the child into your arms and follow him as fast as you can to the en-suite bathroom in his dorm room.

it’s already a battle alone trying to get cheka into the bathtub. cheka hates water, mewing, thrashing his body about and scrunching his nose like a bratty kitten.

but fear not. you’re lucky your boyfriend vil is an esteemed warrior in the sense that he has had plenty experience getting messy kids to behave (*cough*, epel)

get your tickets for Queen vs. Future King Of Sunset Savanna NOW!!! they’re going at it like it’s wordstar

once he’s in the bathtub, things are a lot more calm.

vil is … surprisingly sweet? his voice is gentle and soothing as he works away humming to a tune you’re unfamiliar with, assuring you that you can sit back and relax.

you’ve never seen him interact with children before, but you realise he acts as he does with everything else he cares about—practical and meticulous—although he can be harsh at times, he has good intent.

perhaps it’s the atmosphere of being around someone so young rubbing off on him, but he’s a tad playful, styling cheka’s hair in funny ways with shampoo. at one point cheka’s hair stands so tall above his head, it may rival malleus’ height. just kidding, but you get the point.

afterwards, he lets cheka use his favourite scented creams, as a reward for being good. the plethora of items displayed on his vanity was more than enough to make anybody with a penchant for self-care jealous.

cheka is overjoyed, his sense of smell heightened compared to you and vil, who were only human. the different scents around him are stimulating; he’s content having vil place pea-sized pumps of cream in the palms of his hand.

“smell.” vil orders. he waits for an opinion: “smells fruity, like oranges!” which is about as much descriptive lingo a five year-old can muster up before repeating the process all over again.

you had to stop cheka from trying to eat vil’s products several times

“yes, it smells like summer fruits with a dash of honey drizzled over and a side of fat-free greek yogurt, but it doesn’t taste like it!”

to anyone else it may have seemed quite strange, but to them, it was exciting.

at the end of the day, vil may not have edible treats to give to cheka, or the will to play-fight, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.

#twst imagines #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland #twst #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #leona kingscholar #cheka kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x reader #malleus x reader #vil x reader #🐾・/ rggie twst

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exhaslo · 3 months

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omg i like love ur writing so much its like not even funny i look forward to each thing you write

so im thinking: Miguel as like ghost from modern warfare and clumsy new recruit reader whos actually super good at what they do but the twist is that she uses the art of catching people off guard to fight aka flashing enemies her bewbs

so Miguel’s annoyed over that because its such an “indecent” tactic but it works because even he gets caught like a deer in headlights when she does that. So like ig like in the middle of a mission she does it again and miguel straight up challenges her to to it to him and things get steamy ???????????

Aweeeee, thank you!!! It means a lot to me that you read and like my writing!!! Also, I suck at FPS games, so I never played COD MW, but I can try my best with this one, haha

So sorry that I got to this so late! I'm still catching up to so many requests from last month! But I can totally do this! Sounds really fun haha!

Warning: MINORS DNI, smut, breast play, flashing, semi-public sex, grinding, oral (male receiving)

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This was supposed to be a serious game of friendly fire. This was supposed to be preparing everyone for the competition that was coming up with their rivals. This was supposed to be taken seriously as if everyone was really in the middle of the battlefield.

So why couldn't you?

Miguel was in awe as he read your stats and files. You had nearly a perfect score when shooting down the enemy team. Hell, you even had some military background, but yet you left there and applied here, which made him a little curious.

Miguel was also from the military, so he knew the rules and procedures. The only way he was going to find out more about you was the join you in action. Perhaps you were hiding something and could be used when Miguel had to get called onto the military again for a mission.

"We'll see tomorrow," Miguel hummed to himself, placing your file next to his usual ghost mask.

--------

This was a first. Miguel was impressed with you when you first came into the shop, gearing up and grabbing your weapons. You gave off a professional aura. Miguel was going to enjoy this fun little game and who knows, perhaps he could enlist you.

At least the thought last for a solid five minutes until the game actually began. You all split up, but Miguel stayed somewhat close by to you to watch you in action. You had everything set up and kept your focus for the enemies, but once you spotted one.

"Haha!" You yelled as you flashed your tits.

Miguel's eyes widen at the sheer shock of the action, but once you revealed your boobs, you immediately fired at the poor soul.

"Sucker," You said with a grin before fixing your shirt.

"What the hell are you thinking?" Miguel hissed as he stormed over to you. Your eyes glanced over at his tall dementor, knowing that he was hiding his anger behind his mask,

"Hm? It's friendly fire, all that matters is who wins." You said with a sweet chirp.

All Miguel could do was ask you to not do it again. You gave him a cute pout, apologizing before grabbing your gun and running off. Still not trusting your words, Miguel followed you to keep an eye on you.

---------

Miguel was beyond frustrated. While team did win with an overwhelming victory, the shame behind it was what made him mad. You had the most kills, all thanks to your little trick. It was a shame to the game, but there was no one else complaining but Miguel.

"Yai! Good game guys!!" You cheered, jumping in place.

"Hehe, good game." The enemy team chuckled, staring at your breasts. You smiled and made your way to Miguel,

"Aren't I good?" You said with a grin. Miguel glared at you, but you couldn't tell because of his mask,

"If this were a real war, would you even consider doing it?" He had to ask. You raised a brow,

"As much fun as it would be, there is no chance a real enemy will be swayed by my boobs."

"Hn, there's another friendly fire match in two hours. Can you join, and if you do, don't use your trick."

"Yeah!" You smiled brightly before giving another pout, "Fine. I suppose I could show you that I'm still a good shot."

"Good." Miguel said with a heavy sigh before leaving to his office.

You waved towards him, resisting a chuckle. At least he wasn't complaining about the size of your breasts. Besides, Miguel was fuming with anger, so he must be silently liking the trick too. At least you hoped he did.

----------

Miguel cussed quickly as he gripped the edge of his desk while pumping his dick in his hand. How frustrating it was to watch you carelessly show off those perfect bouncy breasts to other men like it was nothing.

It felt shameful to Miguel for even thinking about how perfect those breasts would look under him. His hands grouping them, giving you a reason to behave next time. You just looked so innocent and cute, to think you did something so daring.

Groaning as he cam, Miguel took a moment to compose himself. He was going to see you in proper action in the next game. Hopefully, your shots would still be up to par even without your little trick.

----------

You were doing good. You had kept your focus and still aimed perfect at each of the enemy team. Although, it did feel a little weird without having a laugh about your fun little gimmick. It just wasn't as fun without you giving the others a good laugh too.

Firing against another enemy, you stopped to reload. You felt a little frustrated. Right as you reloaded, you heard someone yell to show them your tits. Gripping the gun, you let out another sigh before hearing a gun go off.

"I'm confused. Do you, or do you not like to show the enemies your boobs?" Miguel questioned as he appeared beside you. You leaned against the wall, sighing softly,

"It's a long story of self worth and shit that I rather not get into. I left the military for a reason, and I personally think it's fun to throw people off guard, but then they start demanding it...I just, don't like it." You admitted. Miguel glanced at you,

"You're a good shot even without your trick."

"It's a fun stress reliever. I'm sure you would still be a good shot if you had something similar done."

"As if." Miguel replied coldly before shooting another enemy. You glanced at him with a devilish smirk,

"Is the famous ghost afraid of losing his kill streak?"

"Hn," Miguel grunted, not wanting to give you the satisfaction, but hell, he also wanted to prove you wrong, "Don't think they'll care about my chest." He teased.

You laughed and scooted over to him, "Not that kind of distraction." You cooed and saw his hard on through his pants, "Maybe I can help you do both?"

"Both?" He grumbled and hissed as you sat in front of his dick, "(Y/N), now is not the time."

"I read your file, Ghost," You hummed, undoing his pants, "Always perfect with everything you do, but such a hardass. When was the last time you relaxed?" You asked, glancing at his large dick that sprung out.

"Tch, now is NOT the time, (Y/N)" Miguel hissed, feeling himself lose concentration. You lifted your shirt, wrapping his dick between your breasts,

"I think it is the time," You hummed, holding your breasts as you started to massage his dick with them, "When was the last time you got to relax?"

"Fuck, I'm going to miss my shot."

"I thought something like this wouldn't affect your score?" You teased, leaning forward to lick his tip.

"(Y/N), you really...hn...really need to stop," Miguel groaned lowly, enjoying the feeling of his dick wrapping between your breasts.

"And leave you this hard?" You teased, gently sucking against his tip as your breasts did the rest.

"Fuck,"

Miguel cussed lowly as he fired his gun, shaking slightly from the pleasure you were giving him. Daring indeed. You had been single your whole life, so to do something like this, was surprising, but fuck, Miguel wasn't going to complain anymore.

Moving away from the window to reload, Miguel was panting and moaning as you kept sucking and pumping his dick with your breasts. How soft they were. Miguel felt the urge to pin you down and give you a reason to stop.

-------

You glanced up at Miguel, watching him melt under your touch. Honestly, you weren't planning on being this slutty, but you had to take the risk. You heard all about Miguel during your time in the military. You've seen his face and you knew that you wanted him.

But he was so difficult to approach, all the more reason why you came here. You wanted to be risky. You wanted him to notice you, and now here you were. His dick between your breasts and in your mouth.

Feeling his cock twitch in your mouth, you quicken your pace. Your panties were getting damp, eager to have this cock inside your cunt. Sucking against him more, you whimpered as Miguel started to grab your hair and move his hips along with you.

"Fuck, I'm c-close." He groaned.

You winced, tasting his precum first. His cock twitched against in your mouth, fucking himself deeper down your throat. You moaned from the feeling, and shook as you felt his hot, sticky cum flood your mouth. With a swallow, you coughed as Miguel pulled out of your mouth.

"How's...your shot?" You asked with a low chuckle. Miguel panted and picked you up, placing you towards the window,

"Why don't we test your shot now?" He asked, lowering your pants in the process, "Or can you only show off your breasts?"

"Mhm~"

You rested against your sniper gun, ass pressed up against Miguel. You shivered as you felt Miguel's dick rub between your thighs. His cock just rubbing against your damp panties, causing you to get even wetter. Oh how you wanted him inside you.

You went to fire against an enemy, moaning loudly as Miguel held your hips. The friction he was giving you was starting to burn. You moved your hips in response, nearly begging for him to stuff you full. Miguel must have noticed as slid his dick inside your panties, directly rubbing his dick against your folds.

"So wet. Don't miss your shot," Miguel groaned, trying his best to not shove his cock deep inside you.

No, that was for another time. There was only a few minutes left of the match. If Miguel was going to fuck you dumb, then it was going to be in the comfort of his own office or bed.

"Hah~ Ah~ M-Miguel," You moaned, attempting to fire your gun again, "R-Right there~ Ah~" You cried out.

Your body twitched as his cock feverishly rubbed against your wet walls and clit. Your vision began to blur as you felt yourself cum when he kept hitting your clit. Your panties were such a mess and you knew it.

"See me in my office after this match," Miguel whispered in your ear as he grunted lowly, "We need to go over your score for this round."

"Y-Yes, sir," You moaned as you felt him cum all over your panties.

You were a panting mess as you felt Miguel move away from you. He quickly fixed his pants as you did yours. You shivered at the feeling of his cum all over your pussy and not within. Glancing at his mask, you huffed your cheeks out and removed it.

"(Y/N)-"

You pecked his lips before fixing his mask again. A small smile against your lips as you trailed your hand down his chest,

"See you in your office."

"Match over. Top Score (Y/N)." The game spoke. You chuckled lowly and glanced at Miguel,

"I think I deserve an award for winning, again."

"Once I'm done with you, your winning streak will end next round."

You shivered in delight at his low, rumbling tone. Your pussy clenched at the thought, sitting right on your mess of underwear,

"I'm looking forward to it."

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Sorry if it's nothing like COD. Maybe one day I'll try and play the games, but I hoped you like the story none the less!!!

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel x reader #miguel x you

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misstycloud · 2 months

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How to stop your husband from being weird: situation one- digging in the middle of the night.

One of the things that I have noticed about my dear husband, Arlo (bless his soul), is the constant digging in our backyard; he leaves in the middle of the night and when I dare glance out the window, I see him. His back is always facing towards me, so I can’t get a good look at his face. He is a very expressive person and I can tell what he thinks from simply looking at his face, hence why this is somewhat concerning.

Had I known that my dearest would wake up during ungodly hours of the night, get dressed, fetch the garden tools from the shed, and then proceed to dig a massive hole, then maybe I would have hesitated to say ‘yes’. (Do not be worried, I love my husband deeply and this was just a little joke.)

Joke aside, it is still very annoying. Does he not know this will keep me awake too? I have work to do and I can’t keep on going if my sleep is this disturbed. I would have to be some sort of abomination- a vampire perhaps?

That is not all; I find dirt particles inside our house; I clean for nothing apparently.

I have tried bringing this up(somewhat hard to ask your spouse why they are leaving you all cold and lonely in the middle of the night) with Arlo, but every time he changed the subject. The audacity! He even asks me if I’m ill and is in need of a doctor. I tell him ‘I am quite fine thank you very much!’ and remind him my eyesight is good, I’m not imagining things and I know he’s been up to something in the yard. I also know he’s not preparing to pot new plants for summer so he better not try that with me.

Last time I tried prying the answer out of him, he finally relented and gave me what I wanted.

His explanation: I have been finding a lot of roadkill and other deceased animals lately. I didn’t want you to have to see it. You know I work so many hours, I don’t have time during the day, that’s why I bury them at night. It’s horrible, but understandable since they’re rebuilding the library and trucks loaded with materials drive by often.

Whether I believe this explanation or not doesn’t matter. There is factor agreeing with his explanation and there are ones that goes agaisnt it.

Those vouching for him: it is true that trucks drive by often these days since the library really did catch on fire recently. It was an unfortunate accident casued(according to the police) by some teenagers. They played around with a lighter and things escalated beyond their control. The saddest part is that I can’t go to the library anymore, I suppose I’ll have to find new hobbies to entertain myself until the library is rebuilt and restocked with books. Another thing is that I do like animals and it definitively wouldn’t be fun to see a run-over one in real life. My husband is very caring and wouldn’t expose me to something he knows I hate, therefore it makes sense for him to bury them in secret. Besides, his job is demanding and he actually wouldn’t be able to do so in the day.

All of this form one solution that is: burying the dead animals in secret from his wife(me) during nighttime as to not disturb me or his work hours. (If we look away from the fact I wake when he does)

Factors indicating he’s lying: how come I have never found a roadkill if they are so common nowadays? It’s unusual for him to come home before me, and if he’s that busy with work, it wouldn’t make sense for him to find all of them before I’ve even caught a whiff of something foul nearby. You see what I mean? Secondly, there is not reason why he should be the one doing all this work. Surely there are professionals dealing with here things? In that case then he should call them instead and tell those truck-drivers to be more careful.

Ultimately this is very suspicious, but what else can I do? Statistically, there is a high chance(I believe?) that your husband will have at least one weird hobby. I will have to live with that and I have said to him ‘I love you more than anything and if this is something you wish to do then o won’t question you.’

He was almost in tears, it was adorable. He said, ‘Yes, my love, thank you. I also love you more than anything in this world and I would be damned if something came between us.’

Afterwards I lectured him on not bringing in dirt in the house again, though. This was his answer: of course not, my darling!

To summarise this incident: my husband still visits the outdoors at night, however not as often as before. I warned him, too, of being careful because a bunch of men have been going missing lately and I’d be devastated if his name came up on of of those reports. I shouldn’t say this- but I will- I’m kind of happy those men are gone. I recognised their names and/or faces from the papers, you see. It turns out that all of them were ones I’d met previously. I won’t bore you with the details, but they weren’t pleasant encounters.

Everyday I have checked the floor for dirt and have found none. This is very good news for my ‘cleaning-spirit’. Whenever I feel Arlo leaving the bed I have decided to relax my mind and go back to sleep again. Then, if I’m still half-awake, I will feel him laying down beside me once more and together we drift off to dreamland.

The lesson I learned from this is that you don’t have to ‘fix’ everything about your partner, and they are allowed to have their special hobbies. There is a difference if you’re being harmed in the process, though. If that’s the case then you should immediately speak up about it and you compromise. Remember, communication is key!

———

Written by: (Y/n) (L/n)

#male yandere #oc #obsessed #yandere oc #possesive #misstycloud oc #Arlo oc #yandere husband x wife reader #How to stop your husband from being weird

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fangirleaconmigo · 1 month

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I've been going through some of your posts about Geralt and Dandelion's friendship in the books recently because... well I'm back in my book/game phase I guess and I really wanted to know if there are any other Dandelion friendships you like from the books and why? Like him and Zoltan or with the other Hansa etc? [Personally I'm a big fan of what little we see of him with Regis and it always makes me weepy that he wrote a biography about him in the games and fondly remarks abt him smelling like herbs all the time]

Awww yayy thanks for spending some time on the ol blog. I absolutely love this question. I don't get to talk enough about Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, and his relationship with Dandelion (for the newbies, that is Jaskier's name in the books) is so lovely.

Dandelion and Friendships

For those who are just joining us, Tea is talking about my series about Geralt and Dandelion's friendship in the books.

I have also written posts about Dandelion's friendships with Ciri and Zoltan:

Dandelion and Ciri

Dandelion and Zoltan

And for this post, I'll focus on Regis and Dandelion's friendship, which I absolutely love.

Dandelion and Regis Friendship (books)

What really strikes me about Regis and Dandelion, is just how patient and kind Regis is with Dandelion. Sometimes it is almost like he’s dealing with a child he cares about. Considering Regis’s age (over four centuries old), Dandelion (approx in his thirties when they meet) IS a child.

On top of that, Dandy’s personality is rife with traits often associated with kids:

insatiable curiosity to the point where he endangers his own life, (when they go into the forest or sea, Geralt has to essentially, follow right behind him like you would a toddler),

hyper enthusiasm about every discovery he makes, (he whispers in awe when he sees mandrake for the first time, that’s just how he reacts to everything new)

his inability to censor himself or stop asking questions even when everyone else wants him to shut up (he will ask until he understands, no matter the social cues happening)

the way he will act incredibly transparent and awkward while thinking he is being subtle and smooth

Perhaps that is why Regis seems to be so indulgent of him. And somehow their personalities just fit naturally.

Regis’s most annoying trait is to lecture people at length like a professor and cut people off who are asking a question, since he is too eager to answer it. The vampire loves to hold forth on a topic.

Dandelion’s annoying trait (one of many, bless, we know he can't keep it in his pants either) is to ask questions incessantly. In that way, they really kind of fit together.

Geralt loses patience when Dandelion is being socially inappropriate by asking too many questions. Geralt really values discretion and manners.

Regis is more willing to spend time explaining things and to open up.

Early in the hansa's time together, (before he manages to surprise folks several times over) Dandelion is often seen as the one who is in way over his head. Everyone else is a warrior or a soldier. Dandelion is the soft one. To add to the indignity, Geralt is angry at him during Baptism of Fire because Dandelion keeps forcing him to make friends (well, to ask for help)

Yet Regis, the new guy, is the one who always makes sure Dandelion isn't embarrassed or ashamed.

Here’s a few examples.

When Dandelion is given a bloody head wound by an arrow, the poet is howling and shrieking. He thinks he's dead already. He is not a stoic man. It is played comedically, but Geralt is also legitimately terrified that he will lose Dandelion. That bit is not played comedically.

But given the circumstances, the rest of them could be forgiven for rolling their eyes at the poet's dramatics.

But Regis (who is treating his wounds as the resident barber surgeon) does not.

Regis speaks to him so soothingly, and kindly. (I am omitting the Geralt dramz because I will get off topic lol)

Dandelion groaned and took a sharp intake of breath....

“I’ll put in a few stitches,” Regis said...”Be brave, Dandelion.”

Dandelion was brave.

“Almost done here,” Regis said, setting about bandaging the victim’s head. “Don’t you worry, Dandelion, you’ll be right as rain. The wound’s just right for a poet, Dandelion. You’ll look like a war hero, with a proud bandage around you head, and the hearts of the maidens looking at you will melt like wax. Yes, a truly poetic wound....”

And when it is revealed that Regis is a vampire, and Dandelion is afraid of him, Regis is incredibly patient and kind about the whole thing. He does not take offense. Geralt does! (Ironic, considering Geralt ran Regis off, but Geralt, bless, is dealing with a clusterfuck of feelings about the vampire and everything else going on in his life.)

But yes, after Geralt tells Dandelion about Regis, Dandelion is scared, and wants to seek reassurance. But the poet (unbeknownst to him it seems) is awkward and bad at it. He tries to bring up the issue with the subtlety of a sledge hammer.

Dandelion...deciding to clear up the uncertainty..began as soon as they set off. With his usual tact.

(I like that. His usual tact. Meaning, zero tact lmaoooooo.)

“Milva,” he suddenly called as they were riding, sneaking a glance at the vampire as they were riding, sneaking a glance at the vampire. “...I fancy eating a hunk of real meat for a change! How about you, Regis?”

Yeah. Real subtle Dandelion.

“I beg your pardon?’ the vampire said, lifting his head from the horse’s neck.

“Meat!” the poet repeated emphatically. “...fancy some fresh meat?”

“Yes, I do.”

“And blood. Would you like some fresh blood?”

“Blood?” Regis asked, swallowing. “No. I’ll decline the blood. But if you have a taste for some, feel free.”

Geralt, Milva and Cahir observed an awkward, sepulchral silence.

I love that. Awkward sepulchral silence. Dandelion causes a lot of those. But Regis does not dismiss him or laugh. He reassures him.

“I know what this is about, Dandelion,” Regis said slowly, “And let me reassure you. I’m a vampire, but I don’t drink blood.”

The silence became as heavy as lead. But Dandelion wouldn’t have been Dandelion if he had remained silent.

But Dandelion wouldn’t have been Dandelion if he had remained silent. (sorry I am laughing every other line at this part)

“You must have misunderstood me,” he said, seemingly lightheartedly. “I didn’t mean-”

“I don’t drink blood,” Regis interrupted. “...I gave it up.”

Dandelion doesn’t know what that means and keeps pestering Regis to explain. Geralt is embarrassed and tells Dandy to shut up.

However, Regis opens up around the camp fire that night. He tells his life story, and says he hasn’t drank blood in fifty years. Dandelion is incredulous.

“Not at all?” Dandelion said, and stuttered. But his curiosity got the best of him. “Not at all? Never? But...?”

Geralt is embarrassed again and shuts him down again. Regis, by contrast, is patient and defends Dandelion.

“I beg your pardon,” the poet grunted.

“Don’t apologize,” the vampire said placatingly, “And Geralt, don’t chasten him. I understand his curiosity.”

Baptism of Fire 291-295

That's right. Don't chasten him Geralt.

Regis and Dandelion also just have a wonderful dynamic of picking on each other.

Dandelion teases Regis about his long ass name.

And Regis has a great time teasing Dandelion lovingly. In one scene, Geralt and Regis team up to pick on Dandelion and the secretive way he treats his writing. Dandelion has stolen some paper and pencil from a Lyrian military convoy and is writing whenever they make camp, but gets testy whenever anyone gets near him or looks at his manuscript.

Geralt is good-naturedly giving Dandelion a hard time and Regis jumps in with such adorable relish. (Also, in this scene, we find out that Regis actually named Dandelion's memoirs)

"Indeed," the witcher joined in...."You've become devilishly touchy, Dandelion. One cannot fail to notice that it is somehow connected to the paper which you have recently begun to deface with a bit of lead while we camp." “It’s true,” Regis agreed, “our minstrel has become touchy, not to say secretive, discreet, and loving of solitude recently. Oh no, having witnesses when performing his natural needs doesn't bother him at all...His shameful secrecy and oversensitivity to being watched extends solely to his scribbled notes. Is, perhaps, a poem being written in our presence? A rhapsody? And epic? A romance? A canzone?”

He's like, you don't care who sees you piss and shit, but oh this you care about. lol. Tell us about the poem. But Geralt objects.

“No,” Geralt retorted...”I know him. It can’t be verse, because he’s not cursing, mumbling, or counting the syllables on his fingers. He’s writing in silence, so it must be prose.”

“Prose!” The vampire flashed his pointed fangs - which he really tried not to do. “A novel perhaps? Or an essay? A morality play? Dammit, Dandelion! Don’t torture us so! Reveal what you are writing?”

Dandelion says it is a memoir called Fifty Years of Poetry. Regis says that A Half Century of Poetry sounds better.

“Thanks, Regis, Something constructive at last.”

P 88 -90 The Tower of the Swallow

I admit I'm such a sucker (hehe no pun intended) for whenever Regis's fangs are mentioned, whether he is hiding them, baring them, or unselfconsciously showing them during a warm, silly moment with his friends. (Sobs, I love this vampire, seriously I need an intervention)

Regis also comforts Dandelion openly when the poet is doubting his courage or fitness for a task.

Later in the book, Geralt volunteers for a bloody job/violence for hire that terrifies Dandelion, so the poet protests the plan. Geralt insists he’ll do it alone.

But no! He has a hansa now! He won't be alone! Angoulême volunteers to go. Cahir says he’s coming with as well. Then Milva insists she is coming.

Dandelion freezes.

It would be like the LOTR ‘and my bow and my axe’ yadda yadda scene, but if there was one person left and when it got to them, everyone turned around and looked and they are just standing there frozen like....motherfuck this is scary idk idk wtf do I do. And the way this next paragraph is written, it pleases me.

Dandelion...was evidently struggling with his thoughts. And the thoughts were winning.

lmaooo

And Regis jumps in "kindly." He shows solidarity with Dandelion, and takes the heat by calling himself a coward.

“Stop meditating, poet,” Regis said kindly. For there’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re even less cut out to participate in a bloody swordfight than I am. We weren’t taught to carve up our neighbors with a blade. Furthermore...furthermore..,” he raised shining eyes towards Geralt and Milva, “I’m...a coward,” he confessed curtly.

They keep arguing amongst themselves because Geralt believes they have been spied on. And Regis is just...always soft with Dandelion. When Dandelion starts guessing about who is spying on them, and is beginning to ramble incorrectly,

“You’re mistaken, Dandelion,” Regis softly interjected.

The Tower of the Swallow p 182

It's Regis's gentleness that just fuckn kills me. That's always the character that's gonna get me right between the ribs with a shank. (Metaphorically, Regis is too gentle for that)the one that lives in a horror filled, violent, cruel world and is still just kind, even to the loud, awkward, soft, obnoxious poet who is in over his head and is afraid you'll bite him in his sleep and who shrieks when he is wounded.

Geralt and Dandelion are so sassy and old/married with each other, deeply, proudly loving in actions, but always bickering.

It's sweet to see Dandelion have a friendship like the one he has with Regis.

It is so nice to hear that the games continued his love of Regis. (I haven't played them, so I get my info about them from you guys XD)

So thanks again for following me and for the ask! I hope I've done ok answering. I also love Dandy's dynamic with Nenneke and ofc Yen, but I'll stop there.

Hope your week goes really well. x

#the witcher #emiel regis #dandelion #jaskier #the witcher books #emiel regis rohellec terzieff godefroy #thinking about the witcher books yet again #thinking about dandelion yet again

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ohworm-writes · 7 months

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I NEED TO HEAR ABOUT STATION 141. PLEASE. for a friend definitely not for me thinking about how fucking FINEEE good they would be.

「✰」 ━━ STATION 141

RATING PG-13 - Parents strongly cautioned [ Content warnings : light cursing, depictions of a vehicle accident, fires, mentions of injuries, references to and depictions of smoking, peer pressure (?), depiction of a house fire, mentions of and references to 9/11, implications to alcoholism, brief mentions of guilt and insecurity ]

SYNOPSIS Character explorations for the members of Task Force 141 in the case that they opted towards working for the fire department instead of the military, expanding on what the roles they play are, their backgrounds before pursuing the profession, and a few headcanons, here and there.

WORD COUNT 4.9k

Station!141

Firefighters are known for being dorks and pranksters outside of their profession when they’re trying to relax and ease the tension that comes with the job, and Station 141 is no different. Gaz and Soap are the resident pranksters, of course, and perhaps that comes with being the youngest out of anyone employed at the station. But, unfortunately, that leaves Price and Ghost to deal with their tormentation, both the acts and the aftermath of it.

Soap and Gaz do simpler, more tame pranks. Something like dumping water over someone’s head, pieing someone in the face when their backs are turned, or if they’re dozing off, switching the salt and the sugar—that kind of stuff. Simple, annoying pranks—those are elementary. Ghost and Price are evil when it comes to pranking, or, more accurately, getting people at people for pranking them. They’ve replaced the water in the ice cube trays with hotdog water, put cling wrap over the toilet bowl, replaced shampoo with hair dye, and done other things that you wouldn’t even dream of. The two of them get really creative with it.

Gaz very quickly stopped pranking the two after Ghost snuck into his house and hid those really loud alarm clocks with the bells everywhere, setting forty of them up to go off in the middle of the night. When they went off, he screamed so loudly that he swore he had a heart attack because of it. Soap’s a masochist, though, and he keeps on pranking the both of them without any sign of stopping. He’s never able to one-up Ghost or Price, though, that’s for certain. It’s a challenge for him, though, and it’s fun (sometimes, not often, though).

Granted, most firefighters already do this, but making fun of, taunting, and mocking cops is a given, and the 141 boys are no different. Soap hooked a donut onto a fishing line once, positioning himself on top of the firetruck, staying hidden, and dangling it above a cop when they were visiting the station one time. They locked onto it quickly. Another time, he did the same sort of thing but left a donut on the floor attached to a fishing line, pulling it closer towards him any time a cop tried to come close to it. Also, plain and simple: making pig sounds.

They do have a fire dog of their own at the station, actually! And, of course, ever the classic choice, it’s a Dalmatian. In terms of technicality, it’s the Chief’s dog, given that he bought the thing... but, ever the generous man, he allowed the station to adopt the dog as their own. They all fought over the name for days, with some individuals actually getting heated about the matter. Price eventually got sick of it, went down to a pet store, and printed out a tag for the pup, a circular tag that reads the name ‘Ozzie’ with the station’s address printed on the back. Nobody argues against it.

Soap isn’t the biggest fan of dogs as is, but Ozzie loves him, trailing after him and following his lead without hesitation, the others often joking about how the animal played his shadow better than his own did. Ozzie’s the only dog he likes, but he won’t admit it aloud, giving the dog a playful rub on the head here and there when someone’s around and roughhousing and playing freely with him when they’re alone. Gaz and Price are unabashed in their affection for the canine (Price has bought everything for this dog, he swears it), while Ghost is more or less neutral about his presence, but he won’t deny him a good rub behind the ears if he barks enough.

Let’s spend a moment talking about and appreciating the uniforms that firefighters wear, yeah? Station wear is typically worn around all the time, even under their PPE uniforms when out on calls. It consists of a short or long-sleeved button-up shirt, sometimes as simple as a t-shirt, which is navy blue in color and often sports the insignia of the department or the station or something of the like or any relevant patches. They’re matched with navy blue or black pants, giving the whole outfit a formal yet equally comfortable look.

As for PPE uniforms, the bunker pants are held up by a set of suspenders and matching jacket, often being either black or tan in color with long yellow or red reflective strips stretched out along the fabric at the chest, waist, shoulders, wrists, shins, back, and legs, with knee pads visible from the front of the uniform. The color can depend on either the rank the firefighter holds or, simply, what’s in stock.

But, just to state it, each and every one of the boys within the station looks good in their uniforms. They fit snugly in just the right places and loosely in others, especially the station wear—not to say the PPE doesn’t do the same, but rather, it looks good in the sense that we can all appreciate a man in uniform, now can’t we? PPE uniforms are designed to not fit snugly, providing more mobility that way, and they’re rather bulky. This, however, doesn’t at all negate the fact that the men within Station 141 look fuckin’ good in them.

As a matter of fact, the boys often get a lot of people who come up and flirt with them shamelessly. Sometimes, it can be a bit of a nuisance, with civilians watching from the sidelines as they respond to a call, making flirtatious and lustful remarks—it's distracting, in more negative ways than positive, in complete honesty. Though, when they’re off duty, maybe dressed in a tee with the station’s logo, they can be entertained.

Gaz was shell-shocked the first time he was flirted with by someone for nothing more than his profession (and, honestly, it pissed him off a little, but he wouldn’t say that aloud), and he was turned into a confused, awkward mess, trying to get himself out of the interaction. Soap will entertain them as much as his attention can handle, but after that? He’s giving polite nods and hums here and there, but he isn’t listening all that much. Ghost just tells people he’s married, even though he isn't—he isn’t all that fond of getting flirted with on the basis of solely his job, much like Gaz. Price, honestly? He could care less. Have at him.

One of the scariest moments that the station went through where one of the boys lives’ were at stake was in the case of a methanol fire that had broken out on the highway as a result of a crash. A car had run head-on into a truck that carried a methanol chemical tank, which had been damaged and spilled. Nothing bad happened until the car involved in the accident caught fire, lighting the methanol and causing an invisible flame to spread. While all of the boys were on scene, Gaz was busy helping one of the civilians out of their car from the wreck when the fire started.

Obviously, immediately, he jumped away from the civilians, not wanting to catch them on fire too—they didn’t, thankfully—but Gaz was left screaming and yelling for help as the fire began to burn through his PPE equipment. Ghost put out the flame with a CO2 ABC extinguisher, realizing what the cause was immediately, but Gaz still suffered through some heavy burns along his back, legs, and arms and rushed to the hospital sooner after being put out.

The first time Soap tried to go down the fire pole during the fire academy, he sprained his ankle, not knowing how to descend it properly and just shooting straight down onto his foot. He was fine, thankfully, but nobody ever let him live it down. Ghost tells him to be careful with this big, smug grin spread out across his face anytime Soap rushes through the fire house to go towards the fire pole to descend the floors (he flips him off each and every time, rightfully so).

Price tries to call out sick every time he thinks it’s going to rain. For anyone who knows anything about first responders, it’s that they hate it when it rains. It’s a guarantee for more accidents, more calls, and, put simply, more work. Price has been working long enough in the field to know this, so he just so happens to catch the cold or the flu any time he sees it’s going to downpour—unless, of course, someone calls in sick before him and he can’t get out of work, or if he fails to check the weather. He’s pissed off for the rest of the day, and he makes it everyone’s problem.

Soap is the one who's driving the truck, obviously, with Price sitting in the passenger’s seat. Behind Soap sits Ghost, and Gaz sits across from him. It’s lively whenever they go on calls together; most of the conversation in the truck is devoted to work, but there are more than a few occasions when they’ll just talk comfortably together. Especially on the rides back to the station from calls, usually when it’s getting late at night. That’s when the most heartfelt conversations happen.

Overall? A dorky yet hardworking group of firefighters dedicated to their professions, sharing a bond like no other.

Firefighter!Price

He, of course, plays the role of ‘Captain’ at the station, primarily due to the fact that this role does actually exist as a role within the profession; while I would have made him the ‘Chief’, the ‘Captain’ plays a way more present role as the commander of a company and overseeing the daily operations of a station. Chiefs, typically, only supervise and view the situation as is, not often actually being a part of the process of resolving an incident.

Firefighter!Price, who, contrary to popular belief, does not, in fact, smoke. It’s not as if he’s prohibited from smoking, per se, especially given that around 13.6 percent of firefighters smoke, but it’s more of a moral thing for him—his job is to fight fires, and cigarettes and other smoking materials make up a huge percentage of top fire causes, so it seems, to him, like a stupid decision to make to smoke. Also, it would affect his ability to do his job, and it just looks bad to have someone that people are supposed to look up to doing something like that, so he doesn’t.

Firefighter!Price, who, okay, yes, has smoked a cigarette and cigar at one point in his life, maybe once or twice, or a few more times than that, but never consistently. It’s not a habit that he has or ever indulges in, only having ever taken part in it thanks to a friend or two offering him a cigarette or cigar, outstretched hands taunting him, and teasing “c'mon, one puff ain’t gonna kill ya’, mate”, to which he relents. He hates the taste of cigarettes, and he refuses to go anywhere near one again, but he can entertain a cigar around the right company.

Initially, he had intended on joining the military straight out of secondary school; however, a few months before he intended on joining, he bore witness to a violent house fire within his neighborhood. The house had been completely engulfed in flames, with smoke pluming into the sky and the flames spreading to a few nearby houses. He watched on with awe as the fire department showed up with swiftness and took care of the situation with ease, resulting in no casualties whatsoever.

Although, yes, the job was far from being a proper equivalent to the military, it still provided a similar sense of fulfillment, and he would still be protecting innocents. (On a morbid note, his life would still be consistently on the line and threatened.) Thus, he joined the profession when he was around nineteen, working as a volunteer firefighter for a few years before eventually taking on the job full-time. He’s worked with numerous different stations and companies for the past ten years, give or take a few, and he’s made a number of different connections throughout different departments.

Firefighter!Price, who toys with his suspenders when he’s clad in uniform like it’s a second job. It’s an unconscious habit he’s developed with the elastic straps, and there’s a certain progression it follows—it's like clockwork. It’ll start off with him simply hooking his thumbs into the belt loops of the trousers of his bunker gear, holding himself there comfortably as he stands and walks around the station—casual, if anything. But then, it slowly starts to progress further, with his hands wandering, his fingers gently trailing up and down the straps, and his calloused fingers brushing over the material in a repetitive up-and-down motion.

Firefighter!Price, who holds onto his suspenders near his chest in a loose grip, his thumbs grazing back and forth over them, pulling them not even an inch away from his chest, just holding them there. That is, of course, before he starts to snap the elastic against his chest, gently or not, it doesn’t matter; the sound muffled by the fabric of his shirt as he repeats the action over and over and over again—it's something to do with his hands; he’s restless, and who can blame him?

Firefighter!Price, whose natural scent is simply smoke, the acrid redolence of sulfur clinging to his skin like a parasite, a second skin that he’s come to call his own. No matter how many times he washes his clothes until they start to fade into a lighter shade, no matter how many times he scrubs his skin until it blotches into harsh, raw, red patches, that scent still clings to him. It’s, in a sense, becoming a part of him, molding in with his natural musk effortlessly until it becomes it, a scent identifiable to him, whether that’s for better or for worse, he wouldn’t know.

Firefighter!Ghost

Again, of course, Ghost plays the role of ‘Lieutenant’ at the station, which is a role that falls directly under ‘Captain’, leaving him tasked with typical daily operations, readying their crew for emergency situations, and supervising the Engine or Rescue Company and the personnel within it, reporting directly to the Fire Captain or Chief, acting as a temporary captain, should they be absent from a scene.

Firefighter!Ghost, who kids absolutely adore. He can come off scary and intimidating, sure, given the fact that he’s, put simply, a huge guy, not to mention the balaclava he often sports that conceals his identity. But kids still think he’s the coolest guy in the whole world. Being a firefighter already has its own charms; several kids are asking him about his profession and how their dream job is to become a firefighter when they grow up, like him. He’s a bit awkward, unsure of how to respond to all of the compliments and praise, but takes it in stride.

Firefighter!Ghost, who has to deal with the fact that nearly every kid he comes across adores him, soon decides to just embrace it, honking the horn on the engine any time he passes by kids who wave at him or whose eyes light up when they see the truck, relishing in the way they let out loud, excited yells. Whenever kids come by the station, either for field trips or to simply ask if they can have a tour, he takes up the task of touring them around, lifting each and every one into the truck, watching as they giggle, laugh, and smile so brightly at him.

A close friend of his who became a firefighter from secondary school was the one who eventually got him into the field, the friend in question having joined a little more than half a year after the two of them had graduated, though he didn’t immediately and solely join due to his friend’s encouragement. He still worked as an apprentice butcher for nearly two years after graduating at a local grocery store; that job kept up most of his focus, though instead of joining the military after September 11th, he chose to join the fire department.

(Because the fire department played such a large role in this event, I thought it would match more appropriately than him joining the military, like his background states in his biography.)

His friend was the one to tell him everything he needed to have before joining: his certifications, his license, his CPAT, et cetera. He completed each task without any hesitation or reluctance, and he was even willing to get a degree in Fire Science if it meant he would get into the profession. He passed the academy with ease and, soon after, was offered a volunteer position working at the same station his friend was positioned at, transferring, unfortunately, without him to Station 141 a year and a half later, though the two still keep in touch regularly.

Firefighter!Ghost, who comes back to the station after a long day of rough calls, be it mentally or physically grueling, likely both, hops off the truck with deep, guttural breaths, beginning to strip himself of his PPE as he makes his way towards the locker rooms, hanging and folding everything up, his SCBA first, then his helmet, then his bunker gear, before he finally tears off his balaclava—his hair’s completely damp with sweat, beads dripping down his face, splayed across his forehead messily, letting out an exhausted sigh, running a hand through his hair, slicking the blond strands back across his skull.

Firefighter!Ghost, who takes a seat on one of the benches in the locker room, leans over with his elbows on his knees, his hands falling limp in the space between them, his back slumped over, and his shoulders dropped. His station wear is stained with sweat; the skin around his eyes and across the bridge of his nose darkened from the smoke that had penetrated through, dirt clinging to his body like a second skin. His suspenders hang off around his waist lazily, clinking against the bench as he shuffles around, letting out a long, drawn-out groan before standing and moving to rid himself of the day’s events with a well-deserved shower.

Firefighter!Ghost, whose vice falls to liquor. It’s nothing close to an excessive extent, but it’s enough to take the edge off and ease his mind from the horrors that come with the profession. It's a heavy task to fulfill, and having worked in the field for so long, enough so that he’s become an officer, that means he’s seen his fair share of shit, so who can blame him? After a particularly rough day, he’ll take a seat in the common room or his dorm, hand gripped tightly around the neck of a bottle of Bourbon, mask pulled up to his nose, drinking until his head spins and he can’t think. He'll wake up with a hangover that bashes against his skull, wash his face, and prepare himself for the day, only to repeat this cycle over and over again—maybe it is a bit excessive.

Firefighter!Soap

In a more unique aspect, Soap, instead of simply being a firefighter, works as a Firefighter Engineer, his primary focus being directed towards maintaining and driving firefighting vehicles and performing maintenance tasks on the vehicles. Though, still, he does play his role as a firefighter all the same, his specialized position not interfering or making it so that he has to do one or the other. He’s still put in his time to become a firefighter and accomplish the tasks that come with the profession, and he does his job well; all it is is that he plays a specialized role in addition to that fact.

Firefighter!Soap, whose dorm is positively filled with the drawings and doodles he’s received personally when he and his crew visit local primary schools to teach them about fire safety and how to properly act during a fire drill, spends a significant amount of time telling the kids all about their careers and what they do, giving them a tour of the truck and everything. And, by the end of the day, three or four separate kids had given him drawings they had made of him and his crew. One little girl in particular gifts her drawing to him, and it’s just of him and her, holding hands, his mohawk overexaggerated, with a message written out sloppily, stating, 'I want to be just like you when I grow up!!!’.

Firefighter!Soap, who tapes each drawing he receives to the mirror in his dorm, the one he gets ready in front of each and every day without fail, fingers gently grazing over the different people within the pictures, each messy stroke of crayon, colored pencil, and washable marker. It’s a reminder to him of why he does what he does. Of why he puts his life on the line each and every day without fail. When the job gets tough and unbearable, the weight of it laying heavy on his shoulders, guilt and insecurity eating up at him, he looks at the drawings, memorizing them, committing every detail to memory—he has to make those kids proud by keeping on. And so he does.

He dropped out of university to become a firefighter. He initially majored in the field of Military Technologies and Applied Sciences, specializing in the fields of Explosive Ordinance and Bomb Disposal, but after spending nearly five semesters in school, he concluded that the field and higher education weren’t something he was willing to pursue. So, he applied to become a firefighter when he was twenty-one, spending the first year and a half working towards getting his EMT certification and taking his CPAT, already having his driver’s license, and spending the next six months in the fire academy before he was eventually employed as a volunteer firefighter.

He spent the next two years working as a volunteer firefighter, not yet deciding to take on the role of a full-time firefighter, given he had a bit of apprehension and worries about taking on the job for longer hours. However, it was soon after he first became a volunteer firefighter that he learned about the career path of a firefighter engineer, which garnered his interest, which eventually led him down the path of driver training before ending up with the position and taking on the job full-time.

Firefighter!Soap, who can’t even help the way his muscles flex as he works, which is most visible when he’s in his station wear—that short-sleeved button-up shirt hugging onto his biceps with ease, his pants holding onto his thighs snugly—it's the perfect combination of loose and tight. It leaves nothing and everything up for the imagination to think of. Especially when he’s sweating through his top, the fabric clings to his skin like a glove, showing off every inch of him without shame.

Firefighter!Soap, who is so unconscious of how strong he actually is, regularly wearing equipment that can weigh up to seventy-five pounds (34.01 kilograms), not to mention the weight of the hose and the pressure it exudes, the way he has to control it, or all of the other equipment he uses while on the job. Because he’s so unaware of it, this just leads to him picking up some of the heaviest things—people, too—and acting as if they were nothing, because, to his credit, it isn’t anything to him.

Firefighter!Soap, who is an earlier riser. He wakes up the earliest of anyone who works at the station, being the first one to arrive at work if he’s sleeping off site. He tidies up what he sees, maybe goes out and grabs some coffee or pastries for his co-workers, and just relaxes and basks in the silence of the station—that is, before the others begin to arrive, of course. If he’s sleeping on site? Same thing. The only difference is that he doesn’t have to rush around like he typically would; driving to work takes up the most of his time, so he can work at his leisure if he's already at the station.

Firefighter!Gaz

Gaz, arguably the coolest of them all (it’s not an arguable statement whatsoever; it’s just a fact), gets the job, plain and simple, of just being a firefighter. Responding to emergency calls, performing search and rescues, providing aid with traffic accidents, and educating the public on fire safety are just some of the tasks he completes each and every day. The job is both physically and mentally grueling. Yes, the horrors that can come with the job are unlike any other, but god, is it such a rewarding profession to be able to see the direct result of your actions

Firefighter!Gaz, who actually really enjoys having new recruits shadow under him their first few months on the job. Even in meeting them for the first time, he has such a welcoming and warm personality, not at all shy to introduce himself, how long he’s been working in the field, the ups and downs of the job—everything! He spends a lot of time getting to know the recruit, not just in a professional sense but a personal one, too, and it fosters such an accepting environment that the recruit can become comfortable in, which is the whole goal!

Firefighter!Gaz, who can be stern sometimes when it comes to teaching newer recruits, but those occasions come far and few between, favoring a gentler, kinder approach of encouragement and redirecting and teaching the recruits on how to properly hook up the truck to a hydrant or operate the pressure controls for the water on the truck as opposed to yelling and barking out orders with a firm strictness. The Chief typically sends all of the new recruits over to Gaz for this exact reason, and, as you might have guessed, these recruits become professionals in no time.

Unlike the others, Gaz actually had the intention of joining the fire department since he was young. He was one of those little boys who had a number of different toy trucks and cars and played with them obsessively, and his favorites were the firefighter trucks. His dream of becoming a firefighter was solidified when they came to his primary school one day. One of the firefighters present gifted him one of those crappy plastic helmets, letting him sit in the truck and telling him everything he wanted to know.

From that point onwards, he dedicated himself to becoming a firefighter, spending years getting himself into the ideal physical shape required for the job, taking medical and health courses throughout secondary school to prepare himself for the EMT training program he’d apply to take once he turned eighteen, obtaining his license as quickly as possible—he's devoted to the career path, and he fully intends to push every ounce of his being into fulfilling the role to the best of his abilities, and then some. The day he graduates from the fire academy, in addition to actually receiving an offer to join a station as a volunteer firefighter, he swears up and down, is single-handedly the best day of his life.

Firefighter!Gaz, who's almost always the first one to rush inside a burning building, given that it’s still structurally stable and will remain that way for the duration of time that he’s inside, holds a hatchet in both hands, firmly grasped, kicking the front door inwards before making his way through the interior. He’s completely composed, not an inch of doubt taunting him as he sweeps the area, finding civilians and immediately working to usher them out of the building, barking orders in a way where it sounds less like a command, so softer and so much more filled with care. He can easily sling anyone over his shoulder, hold them in his arms, or lift them on his back if need be, rough grunts resounding from him, strained at times from both the heat and the weight of carrying another human being.

Firefighter!Gaz, who doesn't ever complain or tell the other person to move and fend for themselves, because that’s his job, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t fulfill it to the fullest. Given he doesn’t have any civilians to worry about, he’s rushing through flames, heat nipping at his PPE, trying its hardest to penetrate the fabric, failing while he comes out of the building, fire trailing after him, smoke and dirt caking his body beneath his uniform, and labored breaths wracking his body. All he can do is rip off his SCBA when he's at a safe distance from the smoke, mask off, sweat dripping down his skin, soak his hair, and kick his head back as he breathes the smell of anything but smoke.

Firefighter!Gaz, who always walks around the station in his bunker gear, is ready to go at a moment's notice. He's rarely seen in something as simple as his station wear, complaining that the uniform is unnecessary to be seen in if he’s going to change into his bunker gear anyway. In reality, the weight of the gear is comforting to him—it's heavy, yes, and can leave him sweating until he’s certain he’s drenched if he’s in it for too long—but the weight, feel, smell, and overall “vibe” of the bunker gear is something he’s spent his whole life dreaming of. Why be out of it if he’s dedicated his life to becoming the person to wear it?

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finn-writes-stuff · 6 months

Text

Jack of All Trades (pt 2)

A follow-up to -this- post, with the rest of the party. The Original Request: Hello. If you're willing and have the time, I jumbly request a TLOVM headcannon for the team having an s/o who steals their weapons and tries to figure out to use them. What would their reactions be and would they/how would they teach them to use the weapons?

Percy, Vax, Scanlan & Grog x Reader

Fandom: The Legend of Vox Machina/ Critical Role

Format: Headcanons

Gender Neutral Reader

Masterlist

Some credit to my lovely partner for giving me accurate info about their specific weapons. As well as a discussion on whether or not you can say Percy or Orthax invented Guns. -Finn

Percy

With anyone else in the party, there's a good chance you may have used a weapon like theirs before. But not Percy and his guns. These are his own inventions, new to Tal'Dorei completely.

They are also powered by exploding gunpowder. He is a little bit worried about letting you handle them.

Hearing a gunshot when he isn't causing it is a deep cause of concern for him, please don't steal his guns, just ask.

Percy will absolutely teach you! It's a chance to have his arms around you as he steadies your aim and stance.

He's a very...specific teacher. You have to make sure he doesn't get too wrapped up in the fine details. Keep him on track with how to shoot and he won't get way into the actual mechanics of the hammer of the gun.

Let him watch you shoot after you get the hang of it. He'll start to understand why you like watching him so much.

Vax

This man owns so many knives. He has a full-out collection of daggers. Hugging him is a dangerous prospect because you never know where one is hiding.

And with all the different daggers, it can't be that hard to steal one or two of them. How could he even notice?

Stealing them proves to be surprisingly hard. He doesn't store many of them, they always seem to be on his person.

But once you manage it, it's quite a lot of fun to handle a truly well-made dagger. In a fantasy world like this, every adventurer has held a dagger, but Vax turns it into an art and his tools reflect that.

They are also insanely sharp. Don't get too cocky with them.

He swipes them out of your hands when he finds you with them, and it's obvious just how experienced he is with handling knives. He can twist and spin them without a glance or a nick.

"Well, well, someone's got sticky fingers, hey love?"

He'll teach you how to throw them accurately and how to spin them without hitting your fingers. He will also tease you while you practice before you get the hang of it.

Scanlan

Scanlan doesn't particularly use a weapon! He's fairly strictly a spellcaster.

That being said, his instruments are likely the next best thing, particularly his lute. And that is his baby, best of luck stealing it.

If you ask him, he'll let you play it and he'll teach you during downtime. He will also serenade you for demonstrations.

He'll be annoyed if you take it without asking though. His music is a source of safety for him as much as a source of joy.

Let him teach you songs around the fire at night and serenade him in return. He won't stop smiling for ages.

Grog

Grog has had some...questionable weapons. Perhaps don't borrow Craven's Edge.

But borrowing his axe or his gauntlets is a world of fun. Even if they might not be well weighted for anyone who isn't as strong as he is.

You will quickly realize how much work goes into swinging his axe and it puts his effortless attacks into a very different light for you.

Grog laughs out loud when he sees you using his weapons, but it's full of fondness and affection.

Even if he isn't exactly academically clever, this is his skill set, he knows how to fight and he does it well. So he's a really good teacher as he corrects your stance and grip.

His teaching method also includes encouraging you to just swing at him, so you'll need a bit of courage and faith that you won't hurt him.

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oh-three · 2 months

Text

TBB S3E7:

There's the Teth trailer shot.

Ahhh, Mr. Assassin's looking a bit worse for wear.

Ayyy, escape route!

Lmaooo, Rex relying on Echo for backup, as if our guy's not booked on getting Gregor. Really does have a full schedule, doesn't he?

Glad to see that Wolffe's still in there. And being his usual self.

Ooh, the assassin's got no comms.

LMAO, the assassin just fucking jumped down there, like, "hey, I'm not letting you finish what I was told to do."

Rex, your flashlight 😭

SMART MOVE, CROSS.

They're gonna get shot down, aren't they.

"Don't worry, she only bites half of the time." 🤣

Yepppppp, and there's that. Saw that one coming. No way it was that easy.

Me trying to decide if it's Rex or the Batch that has a habit of crashing, or whether it's just them being together:

Wolffe really does hate the assassin right about now. Which, fair, he's literally doing things the exact opposite of them. That would be annoying for anybody.

"You're as bad as Hunter." / "Oh, I'm much worse." LMAO. Cross is in full dad mode and fully aware of it, and now he's turned it into a whole thing. I love him. These boys can't not compete about anything.

Howzer reluctantly admitting that this Crosshair is different from the Crosshair that he blames for getting his squad killed. 👏

"The operative's gone rogue." Saw that coming, too. I want to say it's further confirmation toward it being Tech, but that voice was definitely a modulated reg's.

Wolffe, your team sucks.

Nemeccccc 😭

"I'll draw his fire. Get to the rendezvous." Brainwashed sniper vs malfunctioning sniper 😬

WHOA, WHAT THE HELL.

LOOK, I KNEW THIS SEEMED LIKE A BIT OF A SACRIFICE PLAY, BUT I WAS NOT EXPECTING HIM TO THROW THEM INTO THE FUCKING WATERFALL.

Oh, thank god, he survived that. We're still short a couple of Cross trailer shots.

Howzer saving Cross from going over the second waterfall and actually drowning (holy fuck, a drowning attempt in Star Wars) despite his reservations toward him. 😭

"Wolffe?" / "Rex?" Ayyy, mutual shock.

Wolffe just putting his blasters away and going, "I thought you were dead." 😭

WOLFFE, FAIR TRIALS DON'T EXIST FOR CLONES IN THE EMPIRE.

"As your brother, I'm asking you to do the right thing." 😭

TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH, ECHO.

Ayyy, Wolffe telling the men to stand down because he can see the truth in Rex's words, and he can't keep going forward without at least looking into it.

"But, sir, they're traitors." / "Perhaps. But they're clones. We owe them that." The way they all just accept to respect their fellow clones despite the sides of the newfound war they're in 😭

THE ASSASSIN LIVED. HE'S GOT PLOT ARMOR. TECH, IS THAT YOU.

"Rex, you can't win this fight. The Empire is too strong." 😭

Dark-toned Omega theme.

Fuckkk, I want to watch another episode. Is it next week yet.

#bad batch spoilers #tbb spoilers #bad batch #the bad batch #tbb #star wars

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tenko-thinks · 9 months

Note

*pops into existence* i know you do oc x canon but ima make it more accessible grehehe!

(Annoying tsundere F reader x uppermoons “specifically a ver pissy gyutaro”)

•u• if you do this for meow… i will leave you a green apple 🍏

Fret not I also do x readers w specific traits he ho and omg... green aple...

Upper Moons with an Annoying "Tsundere" fem!Reader

Cws : Gyutaro sucks but like that's it, other than that, none I think

Ft : Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza , Gyutaro

♡ --- ♡

Kokushibo

Now Koku is from the sengoku era. And is wholly unused to a woman like you.

But.. Not in a bad way, per sey.

He finds your outbursts somewhat amusing in a futile animal attempting to escape a predator kind of way.

He wants to break you in. Turn you into an ideal wife for him. Perhaps with a small amount of fire in you if possible.

The demon can't deny the charm of you getting flustered and swatting at his clothing or squawking when another person calls out your affections.

It's part of what draws him to you, with your uniqueness. If only you were a little quieter..

It's a very amusing sight. Upper moon one with a firecracker of a woman banging on his chest. And he allows it.

Douma

Douma, unlike Kokushibo is used to all sorts of ladies. And your unwillingness to behave has him intrigued.

Of course he could just kill and eat you. But where's the fun in that?

He wants to know what makes you tick! It's all a game to upper two. For his own amusement.

Goes out of his way to trigger outbursts from you. Whether it be by breaking your personal space or whispering something into your ear of a not so clean variety.

You're annoying? Babygirl so is he. Match made in hell.

He may keep you for his entertainment, loving to egg you on.

It makes his day to day far less boring, after all.

Akaza

"Lord give me the strength to keep my vow."

Akaza likes to keep a calm facade, but he is quick to agitate. So how you bagged him? Beyond anyone.

Every day you test his internal moral compass of not even laying a finger on a woman because God does he want to throttle you.

Never has he wanted to actually harm or kill you but ohh the urge to smack you upside the head is there. His self restraint is otherworldly.

The two of you get into verbal arguments a lot about affection neither of your dumbasses can even hold hands without a "You touched me" "NUH UH" moment.

In the end, akaza does care for you. Hence staying with you but please. For his sake of not popping all of his blood vessels at once. Chill.

Gyutaro

Godspeed girl.

Gyutaro deals with his sister every waking moment of his life. So he thinks he's equipped to handle you just as well.

Haha. Wishful thinking on his part.

When you have your outbursts of yelling at him despite his coddling no longer is he playing the game of pacifying you.

He does love you in his own very, Gyutaro way. And has done his best to show it in a non fucked up demonic way.

You start yelling at him again? Fine by him. He's going to let you starve for all he cares. For a day or two. He won't let you die. But like hell he lets you leave when there are so many other more attractive men in yoshiwara.

His insecurities will get the better of him eventually and he'll snap back. Using all of yours against you until you're on the ground in front of him sobbing.

Ignore him all you want, he and Ume are going to be the only thing you know. Because you dug your own damn grave.

#demon slayer #douma x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #akaza x reader #demon slayer x reader #douma #gyutaro x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #akaza #kokushibo #kokushibo x reader #kny gyutaro #kny akaza #kny douma #kny x reader #kny kokushibo

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azsazz · 9 months

Text

Mind Games

Chaol x Reader

Summary: Anon Request: I want to pose seductively on his work desk while he frets about the important papers I’m lying on and annoy him until he doubts his sanity because he doesn’t understand why he’s into that

Warnings: Smut!

Word Count: 2,710

Notes: I'm not even sorry. I love him. 🤭

_________________________________________

“Move.” Is the first thing Chaol says when he enters his room and sees you lying across his desk like a cat stretched out in its favorite spot.

There’s nothing sweet about the way he says it. His brown eyes are sharp and his jaw twitches where it’s set in a harsh line. A direct order from the captain of the guard, from your Lord that you should obey, but don’t want to. There are important papers strewn beneath your body, organized in importance of when they needed to be read and responded to, and if you so much as shift or crumple one–

“Chaol,” you tsk, more than ready to play this little game of his. He can deny you left and right, until the sun's fires die out or the clocktower falls down, but he’s no match for your stubbornness. “I thought I might deliver you a message myself.”

Perhaps that’s why you keep coming around, why he gives into you more often than not. It’s a challenge that you both yearn for. You see each other for what you truly are.

“I said move,” he responds roughly. His strides are long as he makes his way closer, rounding the corner of his desk to stare down at you. His hand rests lazily on the hilt of his sword, though you know he’d never use the weapon against you, especially not when you’re splayed across the dark oak desk with hardly anything covering the parts he’s trying so hard not to peer down at. “And it’s Lord Chaol to you.”

“Lord,” you hum, liking the way it tastes on your tongue. You enjoy even more the way that those brown eyes spark, but his gaze doesn’t falter, not even as you drag a hand over your thigh, leering up at the man towering over you. “That sounds good, doesn’t it?” you ask, licking your lips as you watch Chaol work to swallow.

The hand on the hilt of his sword tightens, his teeth nearly cracking as he grinds them. “I have work to do,” he grits, but you’re eye level with his trousers, and his cock tells you otherwise.

“You work too much,” you pout, wanting to reach out and press your fingers against the softness of his shirt. The body beneath is packed with muscle, hours upon hours of honing his body to become Captain of the Guard. You’re well familiar with it.

“I have to,” a muscle in Chaol’s jaw twitches, his brown eyes flickering as he watches you.

“Well,” you smirk, spreading your legs wider for him, a languid smile curling at the corners of your mouth. “If you have to work, I can think of a few things you can help me with.”

Chaol doesn’t falter.

Gods, does he play this game well, but so do you, holding that simmering gaze as you trail your fingers up your body, watching for that moment like a hawk.

Up and up and up your fingers graze across your pert nipples but Chaol offers you nothing more than a bored look. His stare is unwavering as you play with yourself. There’s no flicker of muscle in his jaw that means he’s grinding his teeth, trying to hold himself back. No twitch of the deeply calloused fingers trying to curl into fists before they find your body.

But you’re just as good at playing with him, stretching out long across his desk. Papers shift beneath you and you nearly knock off the quill still dipped into the pot of ink where he’d left it after receiving a hasty report you’d made up so you could sneak into his room clad in a sparse silk nightgown that leaves little to the imagination.

He is understandably annoyed.

Slowly, you trace your way back down, fingers curling into the smooth fabric before you’re tugging it up just enough to show off the lace undergarment you’d recently purchased on your way back from rounds of the city, already wet with excitement for the Lord.

Your mouth parts in a slight gasp as you brush across your cunt and there. You spot the shift in his eyes, the flicker of chocolate gone molten.

You grin like a wolf.

It takes all of three seconds for Chaol to remove the scabbard from his hip, placing it down perfectly before he’s gripping your hips in strong hands and twisting you to face him as he gets to his knees.

You bite your lip but it doesn’t keep the smile off of your face. Chaol growls low at that look, the smugness in your eyes, and your cunt flares with fire at the pointed stare he’s giving you, letting you know that you’re about to get it.

He nips at the soft skin of your thighs with sharp teeth, eliciting a sharp yelp from you that does nothing to deter him from hooking your legs over his shoulders.

Gods, does he look perfect like that. Silken hair dark and sticking up in places you know he’s run his own frustrated fingers through it, blazing eyes the color of smoldering coal as he looks down at you, still towering over you even when he’s on his knees for you. The width of his shoulders are a feat of their own, and his hands span across each of your thighs, fingertips pressing into the meat there to keep you still as you shift closer.

“The message,” he grumbles, but his eyes are on you no longer, instead watching with an intensenes that rushes through your body as he pulls the cloth covering your cunt to the side.

You can feel his breath so close to the place you want it most. “What?” you blink, hardly able to focus as he inches closer and closer.

“You said you were to deliver me a message,” he answers, grip slackening as he tentatively licks at your glistening heat. Your hands find his hair immediately, urging him to continue with a whimper but the veins in his neck pop as he holds himself back. “I want you to read me the message while I taste you.”

His breath is hot against your core and your fingers shake as you remove them from his hair, searching blindly for the first piece of paper on his desk. There’s no message, it had been another ruse to get underneath his skin. Your fingers grasp desperately and you nearly tear the letter in half as he finally presses forward, devouring your sweet cunt like a drowning soldier.

The paper shakes in your grip as you hold it above you but with the way he’s licking at your clit and fucking into you with his tongue you’re unable to read, mind swirling and eyes rolling into your skull with pleasure.

Your toes curl against his back and you arch as he sucks your sensitive bud, flickering his tongue against it in brutal, fervent motions.

That familiar feeling is already coiling your gut, hot strokes of flames threatening to burst from your body as he works, your fingers tightening in his hair while your nails punch holes into the paper crumpled in your grip.

Just as you’re about to crest he halts and you curse, a whimper slipping from your lips that gives him the higher ground in this game for two.

“Well?” he asks, and you lift your head from the desk, staring down at him over your heaving chest. His lips are glistening with your wetness, eyes bright and the challenge there has you jerking your hand that’s buried in his hair.

The asshole doesn’t yield an inch.

Instead, a dark brow cocks, “Are you going to read it then?”

You swallow roughly but Chaol is unaffected by your glare, rubbing his thumbs in encouragement. The higher you raise the letter to read, the closer he moves back to your cunt.

But you’re a stubborn soldier, placing the paper between you and him so you don’t have to look at that smirk, those taunting brown eyes as he holds your ability to cum.

You swallow roughly, breath hitching in your throat as his tongue dips between your legs as you speak. “This one is from Dorian,” you choke, and it’s desperate. Desperate because you need him to let you finish badly but also because you ache to gain the better hand in this game you’re both masters at.

“It says,” you answer his knowing pause of movement. “‘Lord Westfall, you should treat your companion with more respect, or I shall show you how a woman should truly be worshiped.’” It doesn’t say anything close to that, but his mouth feels so amazing against your heat that you can’t even make out the sprawling ink across the page. This one isn’t even from the King.

You yelp as Chaol nips your clit. Punishment for your lies. His calloused fingers dig into the meat of your thighs in warning but all it does is make you moan, make you writhe on his desk and grind your cunt against his tongue.

But it’s the wrong thing to say because he’s pulling away, tossing your legs from his shoulders as he stands. His body is tight with tension as he stares down at you, eyes gone dark.

You open your mouth to say something, say anything, but there’s a light slap to your throbbing cunt that has you crying out and staying silent. Chaol’s gaze keeps you pinned and unmoving to the desk but instead of leaving you with less than an orgasm, he begins peeling off his clothes.

“You think Dorian can do better?” He grunts the question, revealing his glistening chest in the buttery light casting through the large windows. It makes your mouth dry and you ache to lean up and lap the beads from the corded muscle of his abdomen.

You stutter, still reeling from the lack of orgasm his deliciously soft tongue and calloused fingers had nearly pulled from you. Your body is vibrating with need, even more so when he strips you of your clothes and shoves his own pants over his cut hips as he fists his beading cock.

“No answer for that, huh, soldier?” Chaol snarls, guiding your thighs to wrap around his taut waist. He grimaces when he sees the papers beneath where you were lying as he adjusts you with ease, cock lining up to your cunt. They’re crumpled, stained, and the ink is spreading with the wetness that coats them. Ruined. Just like you’re about to be.

He takes his cock in hand, rubbing it through your slickness and the motion drives you mad. Close, he’s so fucking close to being inside of you, pressing you so hard into the desk that you leave an indentation in the wood. You need him, now.

Chaol seems to know that, too, the look in his eyes says so. And then he does.

“This is how this is going to work, soldier,” he growls, pressing into you in one long stroke. It makes your breath falter and your mind go dumb. Chaol rips your hands from where they’re trying to claw marks into the wood and guides them up over your breasts to squeeze. He then moves on up to your throat to cut off your air while the other glides down to your clit, his fingers pressing yours into the swollen bud. It makes you gasp and your legs shake.

“Please,” you beg. You need him to move his hips, pull that hot cock from inside you only to press in further. You need him to dominate you, press against you until you can’t even breathe, paint the walls of your cunt white with his cum.

“You’ll do as I say,” he only answers your plea, a shift of his hips has him moving but not enough.

“Chaol,” you gasp, squeezing your eyes shut. The way he’s working you with your own fingers is incredible, a leader through and through. The feeling is almost otherworldly, but you need him pumping into you like he needs order. “Please!”

He leans over you and you can feel the cording of his muscle as his body presses flush to yours. His breath is hot in your ear as he nips the shell, hand trapped between the both of you but still working you in slow circles. “You hear me, soldier?”

“Yes, captain,” you respond desperately. Your nimble hands slip from his grasp before he has a chance to tighten his grip further. He growls but it wavers as you wrap your arms around his neck, sliding down his shoulders so your nails can dig into his back, a desperate attempt to urge him on. A harsh thrust has him moving but it’s a warning that has you correcting your mistake. “Lord,” you gasp, “Yes, Lord Westfall.”

He hums appreciatively, rewarding you with his lips the same time as he drags his hips from yours only to shove back in with unwavering certainly.

Your moan is lewd and he swallows it whole. You let him take control, no longer wanting to play this game now that you have him. He’s deep inside of you, broad body up against yours as he takes you on his desk, work forgotten.

His tongue dances with your own and his elbows brace either side of your head, biceps bulging as he digs his fingers into your hair, keeping you from being shoved up too far up his desk.

Chaol’s movements don’t falter. Each thrust of his hips is a godsend, a weapon all of its own, and you’ll gladly take it. It’s as if he knows your cunt is sparking with the beginnings of an orgasm because he’s pulling away from your soft lips and staring down at you through lust-lined eyes. “You want more, soldier?”

“Yes, Lord,” you answer immediately, moaning as he pistons his hips faster. He leans his weight onto one propped arm and you oogle the packed on muscle. His free hand snakes down your body, hooking beneath your knee to prop your leg up, effectively sinking into you further. It causes you to keen, scratching for purchase along the planes of his back.

“You want to cum, soldier?” His voice is as rough, a captain giving orders.

“Please, Chaol.”

He dips down to taste his name on your lips with a domineering growl of his own. It makes your cunt clench around his hot cock, driving you nearer and nearer to your edge.

Chaol pulls away. His arm shakes like he physically has to use effort to pull himself from you. At his full height he takes you in, hair sprawled across his desk, fingers urgently trying to latch onto any of his skin that you can find. Your eyes drink him in just as he does you, the long lines of his hips cutting into abdominals that could put any man to shame. His rugged handsomeness that had you panting after him like some love-sick girl. And to be looked at the way he’s looking down at you, despite this thing between the both of you that neither of you will confront, you love it.

“Then cum,” he grunts his final order, one large hand coming to rest on your hip, the other…those calloused fingers find your clit and work you with the skill of a man trained for war. “Like the obedient soldier you are.”

You heed his command, stars blooming behind tightly shut eyes as he drags your orgasm from you. It wracks your body like a wave and Chaol’s fingers find your own, letting you hold on tight as he continues to thrust into you.

He groans, the sight of you swallowed by your pleasure is everything he swore he’d never let himself have. You, the woman that threatens to turn him into some simpering man, panting for your love, you’re it for him.

Chaol cums inside of you, a sound breaking from his throat that would embarrass him if he cared. But buried deep into your heat as he unleashes into you, he doesn’t give a single damn.

He’d let you win this game any day, everyday, if it means that he can have you here like this instead.

#chaol x reader #chaol westfall #throne of glass #azsazz #chaol/reader #chaol smut

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yuri-is-online · 6 months

Note

Hi Yuri! I hope you are doing well<333 I really enjoy reading your writing and I am always more fond of reading the little octatrio fish gang! I dont really know how this usually works because I never send in any asks at all nor do I see your rules list or anything but if you dont mind I would like to make a request<3

A mc who finds an out of tune and old piano and fondly remembers that they used to play piano back in their world. And perhaps Azul hears in on this and despite the piano being old and out of tune, it is rather beautiful how you play it because of how imperfect the notes are being played out. (SORRY I WAS LISTENING TO FALLEN DOWN AND THE FEELINGS WERE JUST SURGING AND THE BRAINROT WAS TOO MUCH)

You dont have to force yourself or anything! Please take care and dont feel too pressured! <3

The Most Romantic of All Arts (Azul Ashengrotto x Yuu)

Hello dear friend and I am doing quite well thank you! I'm pleased you like my writing; the octotrio is what finally cracked my resolve to check out Twisted Wonderland and put FGO on the back burner so I suppose I shouldn't beat myself up too much for writing about them so much. I am sorry I caused you stress with my lack of rules, I don't usually send requests or asks myself, so I felt really bad to have frightened you. Not too sure if this will end up being what you had in mind, it got away from me a bit.

Also when you say Fallen Down, you do mean the Undertale soundtrack piece right? It's a soothing song I listened to it while I was plotting this to try and get into a similar headspace.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, header taken from the painting Spirit by George Roux (1885) which I found on this wordpres blog article I took the title from, it's a neat painting, Azul learning to find beauty and love in imperfections is important to me ok? Other works can be found on my masterlist here.

Sometimes you wonder if Ramshakle is sentient. The old building has more rooms than you know what to do with, and lovely as the ghosts are they don't fully remember what they were used for, if they remembered in the first place. But still there was something about those rooms that seemed to love you; he guest room almost built itself up around you, the kitchen had only needed some basic repairs before it was ready to help play host again, and no matter where a fire place was found it was always eager to burst to life and warm you and Grim.

It does not have the same love for Azul, he'd complained as much when you talked about just what it was he wanted with the building after the events of his overblot had cooled between you.

"It's got a graveyard in front of it, though?" That really had been the crux of your whole argument. It was hard to be annoyed with his laugh when it sounded so nice, the genuine amusement a refreshing difference to his previous performitive indifference.

"Yes," he muses, sipping at his real before he continues, "I'm not bothered by that much, ghosts and grave ships aren't uncommon sights under the sea, but I always forget how unusual humans think they are."

"There's a lot of superstitions about places where people are buried." You mean it as an explanation, but it brings an odd look to Azul's face, like there's an emotion bubbling beneath his surface he doesn't want to acknowledge but is too strong to suppress. It settles over you both, as you try to focus on drinking your tea while your host seems content to let his grow cold.

"Well, I suppose it's a good thing that ruin isn't really sentient." He sounds almost bitter, disappointed in how long he has let his drink cool you decide as he reaches for the pot and warms it with some fresh tea. "Otherwise, I'd accuse it of trying to keep you."

It's a silly thought, but the sight of this latest discovery really does have you wondering. You are supposed to be in that wonderfully accommodating kitchen making snacks for when Azul decides to "coincidentally drop by" later this evening to "go over the Lounge's expenses" in your guest room. On a Tuesday. When it was almost guaranteed business would be slow enough to keep anyone from wondering too hard about where he'd gone or the twins from being too upset about running things. But instead of "just wanting to try" a new recipe, you are here, tucked in a room just a bit further down the hall from the guest room watching Grim give his best impression of Ace after completing a magic trick. Because stars know he has never seen any other magicians.

"TA-DA!" He puts both of his paws out to really sell the piano at the window. "See, I told you I had a great surprise!"

"I'm sorry for not believing you." You say and try not to laugh with just how much more proud that seems to make him. "But where did you find this? Or how I guess, unless you moved it?"

"Nah." He shakes his head before remembering he's supposed to be the "great" Grim. "I mean I could have! But I'm just so cool I managed to find a piano here already, so all I had to do was clean it up instead! You're welcome henchuman." You scratch just behind his ears and politely ignore his purrs as you examine the piano and its bench. They're old, likely just as ancient as everything else in the dormitory and likely extremely, achingly out of tune. But the mere sight of it makes your fingers itch, and Grim barely has to whine "Well ain't you gonna play somethin'?" Before you're at the bench, experimentally pressing the keys to try and sound out something.

Twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are-

You hum it rather than sing, irrationally worried Grim will somehow figure out it's a lullaby and complain that you're babying him instead of cutely dancing along with the music like it's one of the cassettes Deuce let you borrow. He cheers for another, and you oblige, letting your muscle memory carry you as far as it can as you try searching your brain for just what it was you wanted most to hear from yourself after all this time being unable to play.

And missing the click of a heavy door down the hall in the effort.

Azul hears nothing at first, and though it does disappoint, it does not bother him. He's had a long day, one about to be made longer still by the grey zone already draping itself around his thoughts as he shrugs his blazer off to his shoulders while en route to the Ramshackle guest room. He pauses, for what he tells himself is only going to be second, at the kitchen door and is left unrewarded for his detour.

You aren't there: and that does bother him somewhat, even if it should not if his pretext is to be believed. These visits were too commonplace to be random, but maybe you'd made plans, deciding not to look past his excuses for the evening. Maybe you were asleep, tired of the day or just plain tired of him. But there is a kettle sat on it's base, mercifully not on just yet, but two mugs and the pour over cone set next to as if it was expecting company. The nerves remain knotted in his stomach, though the cause shifts towards something more welcome.

So you do have a mug purposefully set aside and designated just for him, and is that a little recpie card with notes on coffee taped to that tin? These things should worry him, the picture he snaps and immediately hides in a folder should be for a purpose. But it's separate from those ones, labeled something inane and barely full with how careful he is to have his longing remain unseen. He wonders, briefly if it would be an intrusion to make the drinks himself. If it would reveal to much to show outright he knows the way you take yours instead of just saying it in time with your order, but knows that would not be the exact issue here. He is a guest, and guests limit themselves to the halls and that room he forces himself, with haste that would be noticeable if you were there to see it, back down the hall and back towards the guest room. Azul has work to do, he can content himself with the warmth the mental image the cups on the counter produces until something forces him to pause at a door once more. The piano is old, droning out a tune that is unpolished and rusty from the player's lack of practice but filled with such a specific sort of joy it has him actually running towards it.

You sit at the bench, a serious look of determination on your face so unlike the usual Yuu it can't help but be cute. Grim sleeps contentedly on your lap as you continue searching for the threads of melody still trapped inside your head from years of only occasionally reluctant practice. It's an unfamiliar tune in composition, but not in feel. There's words to this song, maybe not in the form of lyrics, but there all the same for him to stumble even closer to as he comes to a halting stop just behind you and the music ends in a surprised crash as you whip your head around to see him.

"Azul!"

"Very sorry to interrupt." He holds up both hands in surrender, composure only just maintained as you check to see Grim still asleep and laugh nervously. "I didn't know you could play."

"Can't really." You say somewhat bitterly and more confidence comes to Azul as a slight plan froms in his mind. "I'm really out of practice ugh. I know it shouldn't annoy me! But with how everything's been since I showed up, it's just not been on my mi- Oh hello?"

Azul fully removes his jacket and sets it on a side table close to where he had been satanding, moving to sit on the bench next to you. He has enough mercy not to loosen his tie or do anything else scandalous, but the close examination he gives to the keys could have fooled you. "Pity it's so out of tune, this is a nice piano."

"I know right! I'm really happy Grim found it." You resist the urge to poke his cheeks some and Azul lightly, trying not to too openly relish in your surprise reaches one arm around your back to place his hands into a similar position as you had been earlier, tucking you close to his side.

"May I?" He's smug. Too smug it's robbing you of sanity.

"What's it going to cost?" You try too hard not to sound like you're flailing as you look to see your question hasn't even phased him at all.

"Oh normally I wouldn't dream of charging for a performance," he clearly lies "but it's been such a long day I wouldn't say no to a cup of coffee." And he's off, music only marred by the off key of the piano in a clearly purposeful display of talent meant to sear itself into your mind enough that you don't think about his request too long. You and he are from two different worlds, but he knows that music has a way of gapping that if the stories of the mermaid princess told him anything at all. So when he purposefully slows the song at its end, he knows you know, that tricky smile he swore once he'd always hate kicking his heartbeat up again as you lean fully against his shoulder.

"Beautiful." You say, not bothering to give the compliment direction as he can't help but agree. "We should play together next time."

"I-" You pick yourself up and what he wants to say slows when you pick up his jacket for him and hold out a hand. Later, he all to easily decides. Later, without Grim and with specific time set purposefully aside so you know just how much it matters. "I would like that. You'll have to show me the songs that you can remember from your world." And he takes your hand just to soothe some of the ache, trying and failing not to show just how happy he is when you keep it.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #<3 asks #i really love old paintings and actually ended up making this one my phone bg #so thank you v much for sending me this request annon idk if i would have found it otherwise

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beneathstarryskies · 7 months

Text

Day One: Corruption - Inuyasha

Warnings: fem!reader, seduction, loss of virginity

Howdy! Let me know if you want to be on the tag list!

Taglist: @actuallysaiyan

The conversation came up randomly one day. Inuyasha was sitting against a tree with his eyes closed. His hands were tucked inside the sleeves of his kimono, and his face remained stoic as the wind swept through his long white hair. At first glance, it would be easy to believe he was in a state of meditation. You’ve been traveling long enough with Inuyasha to know better than that. When he’s quiet like this it’s not that he’s calm or seeking inner peace, it’s because his thoughts are loud. You tried to entertain yourself by playing with the fire, poking at it with a stick, and watching leaves burn to ash when you threw them in. That can only keep someone occupied for so long. You crawled over to Inuyasha and placed your face close to him. At first, he didn’t seem to notice your presence, only betrayed by the slightest twitch of his dog ears. You gently blow on his ear, watching it flick as he lets out an annoyed groan.

“What are you doing?” he growls. As he turns his head to look at you, his eyes widen when he notices your close proximity. He almost loses himself in your eyes but then he scoots away. “What are you so close for?”

“What? You’ve never been close to a cute girl before?” you retort.

“Pft, you’re not a cute girl,” he says despite the way his cheeks flush.

“And of course I have!”

“Oh yeah? What’d you do?” you ask with a smirk.

“WHA— that is none of your business!”

The sight of him so flustered from your questions was enough to keep you entertained for a while. Inuyasha, being Inuyasha, didn’t let it go very easily either. For the rest of the night, he’d randomly burst with questions of your intent when bothering him that way.

As the days passed, you began to truly wonder if he’d ever been close to anyone intimately. Based on his reactions to any hint of flirting or closeness that struck between the two of you, you couldn’t help thinking he must be a virgin. Something about that excited you. Especially when you realize how many times in the past you and Inuyasha were close to sharing a passionate kiss. Perhaps he’s pulled away because he’s worried about admitting the truth. The thought of being the one to show him a world of pleasure makes your body get warm all over, and your mind runs wild with fantasies.

After a long stretch of travel without much rest, the two of you come to a village. Inuyasha is suspicious of everyone your paths cross, as usual, but eventually, you manage to talk him into going to an inn for the night. He stubbornly waits outside while you go in to speak with the innkeeper about getting a room for the night.

“How many guests?” the innkeeper asks politely.

“Two.”

“We only have one bed available for the night, is that okay?”

You hesitate for a moment, but then you realize this could be the opportunity you’ve been waiting for.

“That will be fine,” you smile. She tells you which room you’ll be in for the night, and you arrange for some hot water to be brought in for a bath. Then, you go out to tell Inuyasha the news.

“I got a room, but they only had one bed available,” you explain.

“One bed? That’s ridiculous! We can’t sleep in the same bed?”

“Why not?” you ask curiously. Immediately his cheeks break out into a bright red blush as he stutters over his words, trying to come up with an excuse while avoiding giving himself away. He relents but not without pouting the entire time he follows you to the room. You slide the door open to see the bath has been prepared in a corner with a pair of partitions for privacy.

“I’m gonna have a bath,” you tell him with a sweet smile.

You go over to the tub and close the partitions, but you set the lamp at just the right angle for him to be able to see your silhouette through them.

What you’re hoping for is for Inuyasha to see this and get excited. What you don’t know, however, is that he’s going downright crazy from the sight. As you take off your clothes, he can clearly make out the shape of your body. He can imagine himself holding onto the fat that rounds out your hips and kissing the curve of your tits. His whole body feels hot as his cock twitches in his pants. He’s almost disappointed when you sink into the bath, and he can no longer see your gorgeous form. He lets out a soft, frustrated growl and goes outside. He makes sure to slam the door as he leaves. If you didn’t know Inuyasha as well as you do, you’d mistake this for anger. Instead, you know, he’s just making sure your attention is still on him even if he’s gone.

Hours later, after having dinner, you lay down on the bed to rest. It’s late when Inuyasha returns. You can hear him as he takes off the top layer of his hakama, then he settles into the bed beside you. He keeps a bit of distance between you, but soon you’re closing it. You roll over and snuggle against his side.

“Stop that,” he groans and tries to push you away.

“But it’s cold,” you pout softly. He lets out an annoyed sigh, but then instead of trying to push you again, he wraps his arms around you. You lay your head on his chest and your hand rests on his stomach.

“Is this okay?” you ask softly, wanting to comfort him.

“I guess,” he huffs.

You lay close for a moment, then slowly begin moving your hand over his stomach. You lean in closer to press a soft kiss on his neck. Inuyasha shudders softly and his arms tighten around your body. You take this as a sign to continue showering him in affection. You leave a trail of kisses along the curve of his neck until you find the spot that makes him let out a small, almost incomprehensible, whimper. For a while you focus your attention there, sucking and biting softly, while also caressing his abdomen.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Do you like it?” you ask, your breath soft and warm against his skin. He doesn’t answer, and this makes you feel like you’ve made a mistake. You start to pull away, but his grip on you tightens. In the darkness of the inn room, you smirk at knowing you’ve gotten your way. You scoot a little closer so your body is pressed right up against his. Your hand moves down to his lower abdomen, and your fingers brush against the growing bulge in his pants. He lets out a strangled moan and his hips instinctively raise to meet your touch. You try to move your hand away, but he catches your wrist.

“Please,” he almost seems to be pleading. You begin palming him through his pants.

“Inuyasha, have you ever had anyone touch you like this?” His silence is all the answers you need. You promise yourself you’ll take care of him, and show him not just lust but love. You reach up to cup his cheek gently and pull his face closer. Finally, you pull him in for a soft kiss. He sinks into it almost immediately, his hand rests on your hip. He squeezes it as the kiss deepens. Your tongues rub against one another in a sensual dance. You moan softly.

“Can I take your clothes off?” you ask.

He nods eagerly and you sit up. You carefully remove the rest of his clothes until his muscular, strong form is laid out in front of you. You begin kissing him gently on his chest, then slowly down his stomach until you reach the line of white hair leading toward his cock.

“Do you want me to keep going?” you ask excitedly.

“Y-yeah,” he gasps.

You keep going, kissing down the white trail of hair until you’re kissing the base of his cock. You take him in your hand and begin stroking him slowly. His cock throbs in your hand, already reacting strongly to your touch. It’s not long before you feel a bead of precum drip onto your hand. You lick it off, following it all the way to the tip of his cock. He whines softly, and his hand tangles in your hair as you continue licking and sucking on the tip of his cock. Your tongue swirls around the tip of his cock and you let out a moan at the taste of him on your tongue.

“Shit,” he groans as he resists the urge to buck his hips. As you slowly sink down lower, he can already feel himself tinkering on the edge. He pulls you off his cock, and gives you a pitiful look that would be impossible for anyone to refuse.

“I need more,” he gasps. “Please.”

It doesn’t take any more begging for you to give in to his whims. After all, just the thought of showing him pleasure has been rattling your brain for weeks now and driving you crazy. You strip off your nightgown and straddle his hips. His hard cock presses against your hole as you settle on top of him. You don’t have time to ask for further consent before he’s grinding against you, practically begging for you to sink down on his cock.

Your hands rest on his chest as you take him inside of you. The feeling of your warm walls enveloping his cock is too much to bear. His hand rests on your hips as he watches you move. Your hips roll in a steady rhythm as you give both of you a moment to acclimate to his size stretching your hole. You increase your pace harder and faster until the sounds of both of your moans fill the air of the room. Your eyes are just starting to flutter closed when you suddenly feel warmth filling your core. Inuyasha practically howls with pleasure as he cums. You slow to a stop before pulling off of him. You’re content to teach him more about this new world of pleasure. You’re so excited about having finally crossed this threshold you don’t think twice about his premature cumming. You pull off his cock to settle beside him as he tries to catch his breath. You kiss his cheek and cuddle against him.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he growls softly as he pushes you onto your stomach.

#kinktober2023🎃#inuyasha x reader

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glorfindel-of-imladris · 2 months

Note

2 + 32 please for the fic prompt!

Hello! Thank you for this prompt! 💛

[2, 32] prompt: “Can’t sleep?”

“Can’t sleep?”

There was a restless rustling of cloth and grass. Then, a grunt.

Glorfindel snorted. “You're out of shape, Counsellor.”

“And you need to keep your mouth shut when people are trying to sleep.”

It was a surprise that Erestor even agreed to come along. It was a routine patrol, one more for Glorfindel to become familiar with the land than any real threat. He made a passing joke about Erestor serving as his guide, for old time’s sake.

Erestor agreed. Glorfindel was surprised—but not unpleasantly so.

The fire crackled in the silence. Glorfindel stared at it for a moment, then looked up again at the sky he was observing earlier.

“How the stars have changed. I find I am still getting used to it.”

Beside him, Erestor heaved a sigh that conveyed how he felt about talking at this time of night. “I thought you said you lived in Aman. Did you not have time to get used to them there?”

“Things were simpler there. I never worried about things like the skies changing or time passing. Somehow, it feels as though the stars are clearer here in Middle-earth.”

There was a light breeze that blew in lieu of Erestor speaking. He's more quiet nowadays.

“You, too, have changed,” said Glorfindel.

Erestor's back was still turned to him, lying on the forest floor. “As you said, even the stars have changed,” he said. “A single Elf under them would be inevitable.”

“To what extent—” Glorfindel paused, reconsidering. “No, nevermind. I am afraid to know.”

“Afraid to know what?”

Glorfindel hesitated.

“Back in Gondolin—” It was uncanny how the mention of an old name, an old place, long gone but vivid still in memory, filled Glorfindel with longing. “Back then, we argued and bickered as we do now, but more freely, less carefully. I wonder if perhaps you are merely going through the motions now.”

There was rustling again when Erestor rolled just enough to turn. “Forgive me, but are you complaining about the quality of my performance in petty fighting—”

“The bickering was for show and you know it.”

Memories were things Aman would've dulled, but bittersweetness was a Middle-earth flavour. Glorfindel remembered Erestor in the House of the King, younger then but no less sharp-tongued, unafraid, beautiful.

It did not matter that millennia had passed; they did not feel so long to Glorfindel. He remembered Erestor as though it was but a day since they would cross the same paths around the city square, at the same time in the mornings and evenings, pretending that it wasn't routine, that the teasing wasn't also flirting, the highlight of their day.

But a thousand years in Mandos and Aman was not the same as the years that passed for Erestor. Decay existed in Middle-earth, and few things here could withstand the wearing of time.

“When I said that the stars are clearer here, I meant that things feel sharper. Longing—" Glorfindel nearly stumbled on the words "—and regret for things that may already be gone, I have forgotten how potent they could be.”

It was the most open he's been with Erestor, but then he wasn't sure if their old games were still at play—if anything still, at all, was at play. The doubt that had plagued him ever since his return laid heavily upon him underneath the weight of this sky.

“Forgive me,” he said, backtracking in his companion's lack of answer. “The late hour makes my tongue loose. Sleep, and I will speak of this no more.”

“The bickering wasn't for show,” Erestor cut in, breaking his silence. “For the record, you truly were annoying.”

Despite himself, Glorfindel snorted a laugh.

“But it is interesting what you said—” Erestor rolled on his back so he was looking up at the stars; his arm was warm where it brushed against Glorfindel's “—about the potency of things. Grief, for instance, goes bone-deep. It fills you. But then, so does hope.”

Glorfindel snuck a glance. He considered asking: ‘Did you grieve?’ But then, that was perhaps an insensitive thing to say, even for him. ‘Did you grieve me?’ was too transparent.

“What is it that you hoped for?” he asked instead.

“Reunions.”

Reunions. Glorfindel took a breath. “And hope,” he urged, “does it last?”

“If you will it so,” said Erestor. “Stubbornness helps.”

“Ah.” Glorfindel couldn't help but smile. “You are the most stubborn person I know.”

“So you have told me.”

“And what comes after reunion?”

Glorfindel knew he was just being greedy now, and sure enough, Erestor clicked his tongue. “That is not all up to me, is it?”

It was the most giving he had ever been. Back in the day, one had to wrestle Erestor for even the tiniest bit of honesty.

Even so he would not give it all. Not that Glorfindel expected him to; that would have been too easy.

“You are right,” Glorfindel said, voice a little lighter. “The bickering is real. How can it not be? You are also so annoying.”

This time, it was Erestor who snorted. Instead of answering, he simply rolled back to his side.

Just when Glorfindel thought that he had lost interest in the conversation, Erestor spoke again. “How much has it changed?” he asked. “Beyond recognition?”

Glorfindel looked up. A star, slightly misaligned from where it used to be, twinkled back at him. “Nay. I can still recognise them.”

“Then it is not so bad, is it?” Erestor huffed. “Perhaps you are only being dramatic as always.”

Glorfindel barked out a laugh. “As always?”

“Hm. Some things never change."

“Now you listen here—”

The fire crackled in their camp, and there at least the warmth was the same. It was probably not a good idea unpacking a single blanket to share, for Erestor hogged it now for what he claimed as penalty.

Neither of them was as honest as they perhaps should be. That obstinacy even had them losing what could have been, back in an old life. But perhaps it was why Erestor was now more forthcoming, and even Glorfindel found himself asking more than what he would have before.

As far as changes went, this, at least, was not bad at all.

#me: erestor is fëanorian and i am glad we are all on this ship now #also me: *writes erestor in gondolin*#asks #fic prompts #glorestor #glorfindel #erestor

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andrastesgrace · 10 months

Note

Mara Jade + tooka cats

There are two Luke Skywalkers.

The farmboy-turned-flyboy in him is a crack shot, can diagnose a problem with her ship faster than any mechanic in the core, and is wickedly funny, when he wants to be. When he remembers he can be.

The Jedi, though - the one who is allergic to colors and smiling, the one who has apparently forgotten that he isn't even thirty years old yet - is a gifted mediator, a skilled warrior, and much to Mara's eternal annoyance, usually right.

He's also a little shit. She'd almost jumped out of her skin last week in her Coruscant docking bay when he just. Appeared. Behind her. Wearing that stupid passive expression and looking at her expectantly, as though she shouldn't have sworn in three languages and nearly sliced him in half with his own father's lightsaber.

"If only someone were willing to train you," he said with a completely straight face. "You might've seen that coming."

Mara called him a bastard, then, and he grinned. She threw a spanner at his head for good measure, but he just stepped aside and asked her if she was hungry.

They ate ribenes from a cart in the lower city, and didn't talk about his thinly veiled request.

He asks less, now, and she's not sure if she's relieved or disappointed. Since the beginning, he's always asked, even back when she wasn't sure if she still wanted to kill him or not. But now, as then, she's wary. Not of him, not really. She's run through every scenario in her head, and she doesn't really think he'd ever truly become a danger. But he also doesn't want to listen to her, either, when she suggests that perhaps, some Jedi teachings of the past should stay in the past.

Deep down, there's something that makes her uncomfortable about the way he can just. Switch off his entire personality like the press of a button. He would never hurt her, but sometimes he isn't him.

So instead of becoming his student, she devotes her time to becoming a pain in his ass. Annoying him is the quickest way to shake him out of it. At first it's just little things - mispronouncing the names of famous podracers, putting pepper in his tea, and once, conspiring with R2-D2 to play nothing but Nemoidian showtunes everywhere he went.

"You're doing this on purpose," he says blithely one afternoon, and she looks at him with an innocent. "Who me?" in her expression. After a while, she needs more ammunition. She means to ask Solo, but when she hunts down the office he never uses in the New Republic's shiny new military complex, Leia is there instead. "Tooka cats," says Leia after she explains her mission.

"Tooka cats?" "He can't even look at them without laughing," The corners of her lips turn up in a half-smile. "Something about the eyes." *** "Are you proud of yourself?" he says when she sees him later, the grin still lingering in his eyes as he lets himself onto the Jade's Fire.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She does. She watched it on the holos, the emergency channel on his datapad pinging as he stood in the background of some very important New Republic something-or-other. The first time, he managed to keep a straight face, but only just. But she didn't just have one. She wasn't an amateur. All in all, she sent him about thirty of the most ridiculous pictures of tooka cats that she could possibly find. They were naturally funny looking creatures - a little too creepy for her taste, with their beady eyes and claws, but something about them made Skywalker take one look at them and forget he was a Jedi at all. The sight of him bursting into giggles on live broadcast while Mon Mothma was trying to give a Very Important Speech is going to keep her going for *years.*

"You're a menace," he says, dropping down next to her where she's examining her ship's tractor beam manifold. Thing's been malfunctioning for months.

"I'm a delight."

Skywalker is quiet for a moment. His bright blue eyes catch on the faulty wiring she's been attempting to finagle into working order since she landed here, and he absently grabs a spanner and begins tinkering.

This close, she doesn't have to reach to feel the shifting current of his emotions. "You are," he says softly. A few twists of his hand and a couple of button presses, and the tractor beam's diagnostics panel is all green. Showoff. "I wish you'd let me train you," he says finally, setting the spanner down beside him. There are no accusation in the words, but she feels the lingering merriment in the Force give way to a dull loneliness. Mara knows why he keeps asking, and it's not because she's any great Jedi talent. She's...fine at it, she supposes, but Skywalker is asking for one thing when he needs another. "I'd be an awful student," she says finally, bumping her shoulder with his, and he gives her his own version of Leia's half-smile . "But I guess I should probably make sure you aren't dead from time to time." He chuckles, and shakes his head. "Yeah, you're my best friend, too."

#fanfic #Star Wars #Star Wars fanfic #Luke Skywalker/Mara Jade #luke/mara #mara jade #as it turns out #more than 20 years later #I am still LukexMara trash

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babbiweeb · 9 months

Text

it's always been you-kyojuro rengoku

(anime in gif:unknown)

tw:arranged marriage, short mention of abuse (shinjuro rengoku)

initial tags:pre-established reader background, kyojuro rengoku, female reader, demon slayer:kimetsu no yaiba, kyojuro rengoku lives au

genre:romance, slow burn (attempted), angst (if you squint. maybe?)

story playlist:

let you break my heart again-laufey ft. philharmonia orchestra

here with me-d4vd

in the embers-sleeping at last

tv-billie eilish

i’m with you-vance joy

authors note:the last few days have just been filled with so many potential ideas that i haven't exactly fleshed out (yet). today is the day i (hopefully) feed my moots with more kyo content! talk to you later! enjoy!

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Morning breaks as it brings a sheer glimpse of hope for the new day. The first rays of subtle light pour into the windows of two separate bedrooms. The marriage of two young souls illuminates in such a way that would shock many. Two bedrooms across from one another. One holds the secrets of a man who is shrouded in complete mystery. While the other, holds the heart of a woman who yearns for more.

They married in the fall with hopes that in the upcoming new year, a child would be conceived. However, the pair still hadn't even shared their first kiss. A marriage with an empty marital bed and empty hearts. A constant reminder of what was always meant to signify their relationship-

Simply an arrangement.

Walking along The Flame Estate halls, a woman of poise and grace emerges. You would expect nothing less from such a woman born into such prominence. Perhaps this is what annoys him? Perhaps she is overwhelming while in his presence? For over a year, each conversation they surprisingly had was always filled with slight tension. As if her mere existence brought pain to the man of the house. She never understood why, her mind just filled with constant doubt-

”Why marry someone you don't entirely agree to?” ”How can one hate me so much?”

Her thoughts echo throughout her mind. Despite this, she is determined to remain by his side. Playing the role of his perfect wife-

Because while he would never admit it…you are the perfect wife.

You are perfect for him.

My mind races as I walk towards our kitchen. My fingers trace along the hem of my robe, before finally grabbing hold of the soft fabric. Ruby red that compliments my delicate skin-the red boosting the radiant fire within my heart. I was a fool to think this would catch his attention. Nothing seems to ever do just that. Oh how I wish to be more than just strangers.

Breathing deeply, I prepare a few bowls and place them on the countertop, careful to keep the noise to a minimum. However, before losing myself, he makes his presence known. At this moment, I take time to watch him. Pulling a chair out from the dining table, he takes a seat.

“Good morning Kyojuro! Perfect timing, I was just about to start breakfast!”-I spoke with a familiar fondness. I can’t help but crave for more, my voice makes that abundantly clear.

A grunt of satisfaction for my duty leaves his lips. As if this is my queue, I begin to cook-

All for him.

His father was estranged for a time from the young boys of the home. Senjuro, being the youngest, had a hard time remembering his mother. As if the young boy couldn't go through any more hardship, his father grew distant and abusive after her passing. Though, from my understanding, the relationship between the three grew recently.

Kyojuro, after dancing with death, had survived the events of The Mugen Train. The battle with an upper moon demon had changed his heart according to many. During his recovery however, the light grew brighter on the other side. While he lost the battle, he gained what their dear mother would have wanted.

Now, though not officially retired, he still takes on light missions to remain active duty. I never pried where I felt I couldn't, at least…not to him. His father approached my family over a year ago, believing marriage would help ease his eldest son into a more relaxing life. I was deemed the perfect match for such an outstanding man. A young woman who was raised in the same prefecture as the Rengoku family truly would have been the ideal fit-

If only he had seen it sooner.

Serving his breakfast on a tray, I place it in front of him as he sits patiently at the table. I took the time to make his favorite. Most mornings, while he never explicitly said, I cook his breakfast and excuse myself.

“There you are.”-I speak softly with a hint of disappointment. The same disappointment he is far too familiar with.

“Thank you Y/N”-He spoke,

Kyojuro didn’t know what was wrong. Thoughts running wild as he catches her every movement. The sunlight that grows and pours into the window captures her skin beautifully, illuminating her purity. He looked down at the tray as he caught that familiar sense of tension, though it seems as if it isn't as prominent this morning. His heart feels warm.

“You’re welcome Kyojuro”

“Please let me know if you plan on leaving for duty today…I will pack your things.”-

Her voice was alluring, even with the slightest hint of sadness. Kyojuro watches intently as she removes her apron. Her kimono underneath is now on full display.

“You are gorgeous. You always inspire awe within me.”*-His thoughts ran.

“I-I…-He stayed quiet for a brief pause. He was about to ask you to stay. To not leave him, for once. He wanted to ask you to stay by his side until he left…but he knew he couldn't-.

“I’ll be going out for a mission today”-He tried to ignore the sadness growing on your supple face.

Before leaving, Y/N looks into his eyes with a softened gaze. Her words flowing freely-

“O-Oh…a mission? Again? I-I mean of course! You are The Flame Hashira! I will pack your things right away! When will you be leaving?”

With a sigh, he responds.

“Within the hour.”

“I see. Well, if you’ll excuse me”-

Another day without him. It seems this is all we are meant to be. Two people sharing one roof without any love.

Walking to the back of the Estate, I enter his own bedroom. Immediately, I pack all while my eyes trail to his room. His unmade bed with blankets teasing the floor.

“Such a large bed…and yet we don't share”-I thought as my hands placed firmly atop his bed. My fingers trace his sheets. The bed smells like him-I like it. I wish we could be more. I wish he would try.

Eventually, I grow weak with emotion-I find myself sitting on his bed, caressing what little bit of him I can have.

Kyojuro-

The developing feeling of warmth quickly becomes bittersweet. My mind fills with thoughts of her and grows immensely each time we meet. The past year has been difficult for us both, moreover, it has been incredibly unfair to her.

Growing up, my parents loved one another deeply. Their electrifying love inspired me to find something similar-

“Will I ever have love?” “Of course sunshine–you’ll never be alone.”

I haven’t even touched my food. The food she made. My thoughts became too overwhelming-

“So much for ignoring my feelings.”

Soon, I get up from my seat and slowly find my way back to my bedroom. She’s there, I know it. She’s in my bedroom, taking care of me even if we live separately.

Quietly, I round the corner nearing my room. I don’t want to startle you. Entering the cracked door, I see you running your fingers through my sheets.

“My body is stiff, why? My cheeks are hot? Why?”

I can feel myself growing, almost…jealous? Why am I feeling this way? Taking a deep breath, I speak-

“Y/N? What are you doing…?”

An audible gasp leaves her beautiful lips as she frantically finds her own words. Something about losing her train of thought? How cute-

Y/N-

“I-I finished packing y-your bag!”-My voice is frantic as I slowly approach him with his belongings in hand. Slowly, I bite my lip, nervously attempting to rationalize my desire to be close to him. I want to be husband and wife. But it’s clear he doesn't feel the same.

Kyojuro was silent for a moment. Although, I would take his silence over his single word any day. A single word that further sends me down my own spiral.

“...Okay.”-He speaks.

As I stand a mere few feet from him, I hold out his bag and keep my head low. The embarrassment is all too much for me to handle. A sigh releases from my mouth-

“I-I know you don't like me, and it seems that you never will. I’m sorry for pushing the boundaries this morning.”-Without looking up at him, I walk past him and out the door. My heart stings ever so faintly at the prospect of such a sad excuse of a marriage.

For a moment, I felt the release of tension. A pause that abruptly ended as the sound of movement echoed behind me. My wrist turns hot as I feel his hand wrap around me.

“Wait”

This is the first time he’s touched me. The warmth of his hand travels down. His fingers lace with mine perfectly. The calloused hands signify the hardwork and dedication he carries with him. My heart skips one, two, three, maybe four beats-

“...I…I don't dislike you-”

That came out awkwardly, and I think he noticed. His hand shakes slightly. This innocent touch was enough to make me do the same.

“I don't dislike you Y/N.”-While the facade of confidence stuck out like a sore thumb, his awkwardness was rewarded by my own delicate smile. My body straightens as I look into his eyes. Slowly, he starts to shy away.

“O-Oh I see…”-I whisper softly as I relish in the feeling of our warmth combining.

“Kyojuro? T-Thank you for telling me that.”-Hesitantly, I removed my hand from his. As I walk away again, I whisper.

“You should get dressed. You must leave soon-your mission? Remember?”

With this, I begin to calm myself from such a high. A simple touch from him is enough to send me over the edge. He’s never been so forward before. We’ve never touched each other before. I can’t help but feel…happy.

Kyojuro-

Shocked. I couldn't grasp the sudden quick action I had just taken. I can’t stop the way my heart is racing. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I can’t do this to her. But what if? What if I had one more touch? What if I hugged her? To feel her frame against mine? To feel what they had? The idea of being alone never worried me. I was always confident love would find me. Now…I fear for my future. Simultaneously, I’m bringing her down with me-

Confused. I enter back into my room, sliding the door shut. My hand still has her lingering warmth attached to it. My lips curve into a smile as I begin to feel euphoric. The emotion she brings out of me makes me feel like I still have a chance to earn her affection. Those few seconds when I touched her hand, and that smile that appeared subtly on her face.

I didn’t realize this at first, but my heart yearns for more. I want more of this.

I want her. I do.

As the morning continues to build within the home, the once apparent loveless void is finally growing. The cracks in the foundation being nurtured with the first touch of romance. Suddenly, being apart for now doesn't seem all that bleak.

Y/N silently sits by the open deck. A book in hand as she awaits her husband. Though, she fools no one. She wears her heart on her sleeve proudly. The flush in her face never fading as a certain glow fills her to the brim.

Y/N-

Moments pass and soon, the faint sound of his door sliding open and shut can be heard. While the thought of him sacrificing himself weighs heavily on my heart, I can’t help but feel honored to be by his side. As Hashira, he is responsible for our safety. He dedicates his entire being to protect the weak, and this is just one of the many traits I fell for. His manhood is defined by protecting those that deserve to lead simple, full lives. Yet, there is a part of him that remains gentle.

“I’m ready, Y/N.”

As those words ring in my ear, somehow, I feel different. My lips release a soft hum as I slowly stand from my spot. Book in hand and feet moving, my fingers brush against the spine nervously.

“So that you are…”-I smile to hide my growing disappointment. The last thing I want is for him to view me as a sad burden. He has gone on many missions since we were wed. Most of them lasted longer than a week! But this? This time it’s different. Our hands touched, and we held each other for just a moment. We had shared the first blossom of a new found bond. Just once, just for a moment, I finally felt as though we were meant to be.

“How long will you be away this time?”

To my surprise, he smiles as his voice becomes bright-

“Just a day. I’ll be back tonight…Y/N.”-Just like this. Every time he leaves, we remain in this dance. Almost as if we both have more to say. But, that’s impossible-he still doesn’t see me as his wife. Biting the plush of my lip, I nod my head as my words fail me for now.

He’ll be back tonight. This is enough to bring me some comfort-

Kyojuro-

As we sit in a short, yet peaceful silence, our eyes meet. Words no longer deemed necessary. Taking one last glance at her, I grab my bag. My lips relax as my smile begins to fade-

Content. It has been such a long time since I felt this liberated. She makes me feel as though I am more than capable of letting go.

Reaching the edge of our back garden, my hand goes for the latch. Almost gone-until she calls out for me. As I stop completely, I turn around and meet her gaze.

“Yes, Y/N?”

Once more, the air grows thin as I feel entirely lifted. Two simple words that I’ve heard over and over again. But this time, it’s different. The subtle desperation in her voice send tidal waves of emotion to overflow within me.

“Be safe.”

I have nothing to say. Nothing seems to be enough. I can’t help but just simply stare back into her eyes. The same eyes that I have come to adore so much. Everything about her makes me feel…oh so many things. I’m supposed to leave now…but would it be so bad to stay? Would it be so bad to hold you close? Her words. Two simple words drive me crazy. They make me feel as if all that truly matters is…your love.

“I will…”

I finally said.

The hours for each of them had played out differently. For Y/N, her morning had quickly gone. Her morning after he departed was spent taking care of the home. Every detail must remain unchanged and perfect. Perfect for him. She never minded all the housework-

“Always a pleasure to take care of the man that provides for me”-

Despite the relationship, Y/N had always found herself taking care of their every need. Including taking care of his father and brother. Senjuro had grown quite close with Y/N. Always wanting to be near the pair, and each time he visited, Y/N could not help to wonder when it would be her turn to experience motherhood. A woman with big dreams, yet grounded to the prospect of having her own family. Senjuro truly fueled her passions.

Ruka would be proud.

For Kyojuro, time slowed. His mission sent him off to a nearby village. Sightings of a low ranking demon lurking within the shadows. Thankfully, during the report, Kyojuro was relieved to find out there hadn't been much damage to the community. As always, he is still determined to fight till the bitter end.

The wonders of her plagued his mind. But, he did not mind it. In fact, he welcomed his emotions to take over his mind. How could he let her roam this life alone for so long? To be married but not welcomed? The never ending fear of leaving someone behind due to his responsibility conflicts with his true feelings.

“I could not forgive myself if I left her alone”-

Dancing with death truly changes a person.

Kyojuro-

Home. That’s what I see. The sun is setting behind me as I clutch my bag tightly. My nerves begin to rise the closer I get to home, to her. I wonder what she’s doing? Is she resting? Have I crossed her mind today? Perhaps she thought of me as I did her? Everything I felt then, I crave to feel again.

As I approach our Estate, my feet begin to pick up the pace slightly. The excitement grows as I shed away the feeling of secrecy. To fall for her is my greatest pleasure. I just hope she accepts.

Just then, a shadow passes in front of a window. It’s her. She’s pacing back and forth, seemingly frantic. A small chuckle escapes my lips. She seems nervous. Reaching our gate, I haven’t once left her. My eyes feel full as I watch her every move. I can't help but stare.

“Y/N?”-Calling out to her as I enter our home, she stops in her own tracks.

“God she’s radiant”-

Y/N-

Just then, a familiar voice echoed, my lips curving slowly. There he is, my husband. His uniform is slightly dirty and wrinkled. His hair flowing down behind his broad shoulders. His face was soft despite the hardships of the day.

He doesn't seem injured! No blood, no scratches! Good.

Walking towards him, now standing a few feet in front of him, my eyes finally reach him.

“Welcome home Kyojuro.”-My voice is soft and gentle as I take in him completely. A certain fondness hidden within my demeanor. His eyes stare back at mine as we take in each other's peace. He took a step closer now-

“Y/N.”

Nervously, I stutter. The way his smooth voice says my name brings joy to my full heart.

“K-Kyojuro! H-How was your mission? Was it successful?”-Shyly, I begin to fidget with my hands, a nervous tick.

“Yeah, it was. And now, I’m back home safely.”-Home? Home? He’s inching closer now. His warmth reaches my core as his arm reaches forward. He looked at my hand briefly. He’s never been so close before. I’m enjoying every moment with him, however I can't help but feel myself slowly shy away. To spend an entire year with my husband, and not have any form of contact, to then suddenly be given a bit of affection? How strange?

“May I…hold your hand?”-My ears ring as I flush red. As if we could just simply ignore the sudden call to such intimacy, I attempt to change the subject. Poorly might I add.

“I-I’m glad to hear it! Oh! Before I forget! I-I made you a small dinner. You must be hungry!”-Biting my lip, I await his reply. I do not know if this is okay for us to do. This all feels so foreign.

Kyojuro-

Inching closer to her, allows me to feel her warmth. Her being captivating me as I look at her soft supple skin. Her small hands that work tirelessly for me. My lips curve before I can even think. To hold her hand would be a divine pleasure I would love to indulge in. A simple touch. That’s all I ask.

My shyness is killing me, but she shamelessly makes me weak and brings me to my knees. An uncharted wave of feeling that I want to explore with only her.

“Changing the subject? How cute.”-I thought.

“Thank you, I definitely am hungry…”-For just a moment, I tease her with a bit of relief. A pause allowed me to capture her once more. Her lips. The temptation becomes my downfall as I feel myself grow impatient. I want to hold her hand–so, so badly.

“Hold out your hand, Y/N.”

An audible gasp escapes as her cheeks glow a faint pink. A small simple word melts me-

“Y-Yes…”

Her delicate hand lifted in front of me as her eyes shone with anticipation. She’s eager. This is everything I had imagined about. Soft, puppy love taking hold of us, finally. My calloused hands reach for her, as we meet, I smile. A true, genuine smile. One that signifies my readiness. I want to fall for her-

“May we walk together?”-There is nothing else on my mind but you.

Y/N-

“A walk? B-But your dinner? It’s getting late Kyojuro!”-My blush deepens. I can feel it. His hand squeezes mine slightly. This affection he is granting me–everything I have been craving for is finally mine. He finally sees me.

He wasn't listening to you. He couldn't bring himself to hear your words. Your lips, your soft and delicate hands. He wanted nothing else than to just have your company. The bright smile creeping on his face told you enough.

“Let’s just walk, just for a while”-With his words came a sudden rush of pure euphoria. My shy skin sheds as my comfort grows. He is all I need. And I’ll be damned to lose this opportunity. He is mine. I simply nod my head as he takes the lead. Time had slowed as he took gentle care of me. Our garden being the perfect spot for a time such as this. The moon is now rising as remnants of the sun slowly disappear.

The long silence, while calm and inviting, breaks as we make time to sit side by side.

“Y/N…”-His voice trails before he lets out a short sigh. His body shifts as he turns to face me. His knee brushed against mine. Yet another foreign touch-

“...why haven't I held your hand until now?”-His question stumps me as I look up at him. Could he be genuine? Shall we take the next step and break these walls? To be honest and undone?

Making up my mind quickly, I speak in a hushed tone.

“I-I do not know Kyojuro. Your mind is a mystery I’ve wanted to explore for a while. However, you're not alone…”-I pause to catch my nerves. My words carry me as my thoughts try to catch up.

“I’ve spent many nights wondering why we are the way we are. You have brought me a great sense of relief asking me such a simple question. Thank you.”

The sound of the night beginning to fall upon us amplifies as the silence becomes apparent once more. Flickers of light begin to pop like small fireworks. Lightning bugs surrounding the nearby shrubbery. The sound of rustling brush fails to hide the feet of critters passing through. Oddly enough, I feel no tension. The air is clear and so is my mind.

His hand squeezes mine as if to let me know he’s still here. Right by my side.

“O-Oh…you’re welcome. I-I feel as though I really didn't do much. In fact, I know I haven't done much…”-His voice lingers for a bit before continuing his train of thought out loud.

“This marriage must have been difficult for you. I’m not exactly a man that you would be proud of.”

He’s right. This marriage has been difficult. I had such expectations for us. I fantasized endlessly during the weeks leading to our wedding. I always chalked up his cool demeanor as just nerves. Though, my dreams finally broke apart the evening after we had announced our nuptials. The heartbreak I felt gradually took over, until eventually, I allowed myself to get lost within my own marital duties. That was all I had. Although, the Rengoku family as a whole still welcomed me and made me feel somewhat comfortable. His father kept reassuring that his son's behavior truly was out of the ordinary. Being a veteran to the corps, Shinjuro understood all too well the pain his eldest son felt. Shinjuro suffered just as much-

“Just give him time, he’s been through hell and back. This second chance has been granted to him while feeling as if he isn't deserving of such a thing.”

“Kyojuro, you may not be the husband you expected yourself to be. But please, do not cut yourself short. I am still proud of you. You are a man worthy of praise and admiration. You have been blessed with the perseverance of a true warrior–your mother would be proud.”

Treading lightly, I speak from my soul. I’ve waited an entire year to finally have a moment to share with the man I married. His father shed well deserved light on the hardships of their livelihood. Shinjuro lost his wife to terminal illness. Losing the spark to his flame, he burnt out. Turning to alcohol as a way to temporarily forget his pain. Senjuro grew up having only faint memories of their mother. His brother, having to sacrifice his own youth to raise such a gentle boy. Regardless of such tribulations, I firmly believe Ruka Rengoku would be immensely proud of her son.

I am wholeheartedly proud of him.

Slowly, my gaze returns to him. Not knowing what to expect, I began to admire his eyes. His eyes filled with a spark I had never seen before. Wide and bright, I smile softly as my eyes soften. This is all I need. His attention directly focused on only me. As if I am the only woman in the world.

Time is frozen as the two share a slice of heaven on Earth. At this moment, Kyojuro had finally seen Y/N in all her glory. Reminisce of his mother found in her. The woman he had neglected had given him yet another chance to prove himself worthy of her love. They are absolutely smitten.

Kyojuro-

Her words tug playfully at the strings of my heart. She’s delicate and careful with me. She doesn't see my behavior as something to fear. She sees the man crying out for something, someone–she sees me. My waterline stings painlessly as I feel the flow of water. Looking at her, keeping her hand within mine, I can’t help but feel seen. The soft curve of her face that carries the many expressions yet to discover. Her lips curve into a smile that I never want to fade. The bridge of her nose that my eyes follow to meet her caring gaze.

You are so beautiful-

“Y/N? C-Can I ask you something?”-With a smile, all I have now is the aching thought of her lips against mine. I don't know where to go from here, all that is certain is that I crave her more. She is my undeniable cure to my own loneliness–I’ll be damned to ever let her go. Without hesitation, she speaks-

“Y-Yes! Of course”-Our faces close as the setting of such serenity illuminates the ethereal beauty that sits before me. Tightly, I grip her hand and lead her towards my chest, laying her palm flat. My heart is pounding-

“Do you-As the hardest question undoubtedly brings back the tension within me, I breathe in and out deeply before asking. My heartbeat skips as her fingers tease the buttons along the front my uniform-

“Do you…love me Y/N?”

Intimate and vulnerable. How I want to be with her always-

Y/N-

Do my ears deceive me? Perhaps the otherworldly glow of the moon hazes me. No? If that were true, why does he hold my hand against his chest? Why does his heart beat so quickly? Why do I feel so dizzy? So lightheaded…

“I-I am unsure if answering will benefit us in any way…considering the state our marriage is in…”-Taking a deep breath, I lower my head. Looking at my lap, my one lone hand clenched the hem of soft fabric. I feel myself choke up, full from the intensity of such a telling question.

But–

“H-However, if you must know…Kyojuro. I do. I do love you.”-My voice just above a whisper as I close my eyes. My confession out and in the open air. The moon and stars as my witness.

The way his hand slowly lets go of mine, I keep my hand firmly upon his chest just for a moment longer before swiftly reuniting my hands with one another. My body heat rises as I begin to realize how absolutely vulnerable I am now.

“Y/N…”-He whispers my name as he moves even closer. The space between us is almost non-existent. His hand travels up my arm as his finger trails the fabric of my sleeve. Soon after, he reaches the curve of my face. Caressing my cheek gently-A foreign touch welcomed.

“Y/N? May I kiss you?”-His voice melting me once more as a hint of pure love falls from his beautiful mouth. Looking up cautiously, his touch became needy.

“W-What? K-Kyojuro? The sudden shift…the affection? Why now? This isn't like you!”-

As they sit together, the touch of his hand becomes needy as he pulls her close, alluding to his desire. If you would let him, he would love nothing more than to touch your skin all night long.

“Y/N, I’m only doing this because of you. You’ve changed me. Your touch, your skin, your lips–everything about you is a never ending addiction. I’m affectionate because of you.”

My face is filled with anger, confusion, and love. All hitting me at once. My slight anger stemmed from the surprising shift of romance. To have me wait for what felt like an eternity, is truly cruel. My confusion gives me up with the furrow of my brow. Why now? We’ve never kissed, and yet…

“I’ve been holding myself back from you. I was such a fool to treat you so coldly from the very beginning. You deserve a man. If you would allow it…Y/N, I want to be that man.”

And all at once, my doubts and questions fade away from my mind. In an instant, my dreams of being his piece back together. The water that had built along my waterline trickled down in short streams. One tear, then two, now three-

All he could do is just look at you. Every inch of you is becoming more and more addicting. Why hadn't he noticed your beauty before? You made him feel so intense, and yet it took him almost too long to finally acknowledge this love. Dipping his face closer to yours, he wipes your tears as he stays mere inches from your lips.

Kyojuro daring to not move an inch closer until he knows. His eyes peered into yours silently begging for this. And as the angel you have become in his eyes, you had blessed him-

Your lips meet each other as you both close your eyes. The warm, foreign feeling of velvet melting together perfectly brings you both to each other's complete devotion. He kept quiet as he wanted to hear more of that gentle whimper. For once, he allows his heart to take over-

Our lips move in sync as now both of his large hands caress my face. Drawing me closer to him, leaving no room for us to leave. As if I ever would.

The dance we share is more intimate than anything we had ever shared before. Our first kiss together is electric. His soft tongue running against my bottom lip as our continued passion exposes our hidden desires. The sound of almost lewd noises fall from my mouth and pour into his. The crisp night breeze being the only thing that cools me down–chills raising the hairs along my arms. In an instant, he pulls away, whispering against my lips.

“Y/N…”-His hands fall from my face as they drop to hold my frame. His embrace reassuring me.

As I whisper his name back almost breathlessly, I rest my head gently on his shoulder. My face is glowing with love.

“I love you too…”

As if a part of Y/N had already known this, she let out a deep breath of relief. Nuzzling close to him, her face buried into his warmth. You had done something to him truly. Your warmth against his body felt perfect. He couldn't get enough of you, he never wanted to stop having more of you. This was all his soul needed. The beat of his heart now belongs to you.

Their long awaited love now slowly unraveling before their eyes. Neither wanting to ever let go of the pure joy they’ve been blessed with. Kyojuro had finally found the one to set his heart truly ablaze.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

authors end note:not gonna lie, i had such a hard time ending this. i knew i wanted to leave it quite open, (just in case i decide to write a smutty pt. 2 teehee), but whew my head hurts. re-reading, me thinks this is just fluff wanting to be something it's not (angst). oh well, as long as you enjoy it, i’m happi! did anyone catch the callback i did to the infamous kyojuro comic done by @/kammi.lu!? i adore their art omgggg! the rengoku family deserves such happiness. it’s what ruka would of wanted. oh, and i tried switching pov’s. not really sure if i did good. i’m telling you, it’s been so long since i’ve written ficccss! this is harder than i remember! props to the authors that pump out stuff daily! y'all work harder than the devil. okie! goodbye for now! (kyojuro brainrot is real)

word count:5763

many thank! -babbi₊˚⊹♡

-08/05/23 (my birfday)

#anime and manga #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku senjuro #rengoku shinjuro #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kny x reader #reader insert #female reader #babbiweebwrites

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