#(willie does not like the heat) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dcxdpdabbles · 1 month ago

Text

Die with a Smile

For @anonymous-existences who asked for a "Die with a Smile" by Bruno Mars and Lady Gaga using Spirt Halloween ship. Hope you like it!

Danny remembers being alive, but it was a distant memory as if he had woken from a wonderful dream. He could recall no scents or tastes from his time being flesh and bone, but he remembered sights and sometimes, if he was lucky a few sounds.

The sound of his sister singing. His father's laughter. His mother's humming. His best friend's fingers tap on his keyboard. His other best friend's plants when the water of her watering can fell over their leaves.

Danny held all the sounds dear to his heart, even if he could not remember their names or voices. Just their faces, smiles, and the warmth in their eyes before the car accident. Danny had been a Halfa from the age of fourteen, but twenty years later, he had died in a collision caused by a drunk driver, turning into a complete ghost.

Like all his previous adversaries, Danny could no longer return to the human world willy-nilly. He had reformed after he died in the Zone, becoming one of its citizens, anchored to the Realms between Death and Life.

He needed a gateway made by a mortal who willingly invited him through. All natural portals were nice, but it was a one-way. Anyone could pass through them to the Realms, not vice versa.

His parents had unknowingly created an open invitation when they stabilized their portal, allowing ghosts to run a rampage in the city. Danny doesn't remember why they had made it, but he wishes it was still there so he could see them again.

So that he could feel the deep love so evident in the glimpses and flashes of their faces that ran through his mind. He couldn't find his way back, so he spent years looking. He was one of the few ghosts that had no anchored haunt. Danny spends all eternity flying through the Realms in search of the love that he had once felt.

He lost count of how long ago that was. But along the way, he picked up other various wonders.

A bag that opens to his pocket of cosmos is flung over his shoulder. A long cloak that protected him from the scorching heat, freezing blizzards, howling winds, and drowning rain. A glimmering book that recorded his adventures in the consultations. And many new friends who have been in the Realms for so long they had developed their own culture and given birth to generations that knew nothing of the mortal realm.

Danny's ghost's name had also faded from his mind, knowing he used to answer something when he was fourteen. He is grateful that his birth name stays with him, even if he does not know his surname.

He now went as the Wander. Always searching for something he did not know if he could hold, let alone own. Wander grew in power, for his death had brought along all the ectoplasm of his Halfa days, and while his travels were relatively peaceful, there were times he needed to fight his way through.

He has never been defeated.

That was Danny's experience now. Wander, find adventure, find friends, find new incredible sights, become saddened that the new things didn't match the love he set on a pedestal, and wander again.

Over and over. Never lingering for too long. Never belonging.

Just lost in the endless void of the Realms.

Then, Danny had run into him.

A human had fallen through a portal caused by unnatural means. It was due to being attacked by a monstrous tyrant that was threatening his world. Omega Beam radiation polluted the portal, and for a second, Danny had thought he had finally found a stable way into the human world.

But alas, when he approached it, an invisible force kept him from leaving the Realms. Its constant flickering and electrical crackles mocked him, even if the scene behind the portal depicted a broken world.

Danny wanted nothing more than to fly through the human world, feel all those fantastic emotions, and live again. He pushed and pushed against the force field; however, there was no open invitation. He could not pass through the portal.

The human that fell after being pushed by the sudden explosion could. Danny had caught him and nursed him back to health, and when he awakened, he was struck dumb by those intense, intelligent eyes.

Batman was the name the human gave him, and for a few months, that was what Danny called him. The way to his home, an Earth called Gotham, had closed as soon as the omega beams had vanished. Batman was beside himself, attempting to find another portal.

As the man was living without means of flight between islands, Danny offered to take him to a few natural portals. He warned him that even if he could enter said portals, there was no guarantee he would be back when he vanished.

Portals bend time and space. They may appear in the same spot, but it was also a gamble of when that would be. Batman had no care, taking Danny's offer, and the two went off on a new adventure.

The broken pieces of an endless city was the connection between the Realms and Batman's Gotham. It took some time before Batman admitted that the city they traveled through - as, for some reason, the city bounds stopped Danny's flight - was his beloved city. It was an exact duplicated, over and over again as time moved on in the mortal world; this one copied every new development without removing the old one.

It merely expanded right next to the old building. The natural portals across the range were unstable, lasting only a few seconds before Batman was forced to throw himself back into the Realm or he got stuck at the wrong time.

Batman left a clue at every stop the portal gave him, claiming one of his children would notice and help find a way to bring him home. Danny wasn't so sure, but if the human found comfort in the thought, he would not be the one to burst his bubble.

As for Danny, the familiar emptiness that came with the urge to move on never showed itself. He found comfort in the footsteps of Batman. He found glee in the laughter around the small fires they make in the destroyed streets, void of any color.

Danny had forgotten most colors, so used to the Grey's, blacks, whites and dark purples of the Realms but the way Batman spoke of it made him think back to the reds blues yellows and greens he had not realized he missed.

Slowly, his journal filled itself with nothing but the mortal he had found.

Batman survived on what little they could find in the broken streets of his colorless home. He seemed disgruntled by the silence of the repeating streets, the obvious signs of violence that never quite healed in his city.

After a while, Danny realized he felt whole again. As if a part of his soul had been returned. Batman did not bring him back to life, but he made him feel alive.

Danny informed him it meant the land was cursed, but that only earned him a cold glare and a sharp bite of beef jerky from a gas station with its window smashed in. Their travels continued, with Danny dreaming of the five sounds he could recall of his loved ones- he did not need food anymore as a ghost, but he did need sleep. His core required recharge- realizing a new sound had been added.

The sound of Batman's soft taps as he marched on, searching for a way home.

Danny created a new constellation for him. He named it the Lost Vengence. It seemed right, even if Batman rarely spoke.

A few months of them together, Batman had wandered into an air that exploded with green grass. He grasped for his belt, but whatever he was searching for wasn't there, and he fell to his knees screaming.

Danny, who hadn't breathed it in, had rushed him over to a crumbled hospital, strapping the human down and panicking over his state. He was no doctor, but if he left Batman alone to get help, leaving the area that didn't allow him to fly would take far too long, and Batman would die.

Already, his heart was beating too fast for a human. Danny had ripped off his strange mask, trying to get him out of the clothes covered in the green goo, but it didn't do much. All that was left was a human- a handsome human- screaming his head off.

Eventually, Danny realized that his journal may have the answer. He could not always remember what he recorded, but if he asked it to, it would pull up records of adventures he may have forgotten.

There was a method of passing on his healing that Frostbite once shared with him long before his death. He pressed his hands over Batman's chest, not with his palms but with his soul, and prayed the human would accept it.

A few minutes later, Danny's ectoplasm had sunk through the skin and cleaned out the effects of the strange grass. Batman slumped against the metal table, breathing heavily and sweating profoundly, but he stared up at Danny as if he were bestowing an angel.

Since ectoplasm was purely emotional, no words had to be shared between them to know Danny had wanted to save him more than anything. Had felt the way Batman made him feel complete.

"My name is Bruce Wayne," Batman had told him later that night while the pair looked through a mall that seemed to have been flooded. The water splashed against their mid-calfs, slowly picking their way through the new clothes that Bruce could wear.

His soft smile filled up to his core, and neither mentioned the way the distance between them closed or the fingers that laced together,but Danny knew he had found it.

What he had been searching for all these years.

Bruce would sometimes stop them in the nicer parts of his city- places that merely went out of business instead of being broken down- and treat him to the few things he had forgotten of the human world.

An ice cream parlor had been stripped clean, but the owners had left one fringe with three tubs of ice cream. As time was frozen, it was good to eat, and Danny realized that while he did not need food, he did enjoy it. Bruce was sensitive to the weather that changed every few hundred miles.

In the parts with ice and snow, he curled up on Danny's chest, protected by the cloak that expanded to cover them. In the fires, he was carried on Danny's back, the fabric of the cloak protecting him from burning while Danny's hair flickers snowflakes for him to breathe.

Other times, he merely liked holding hands because he, too, felt whole with Danny.

Then they came upon a part of town that belonged to Bruce's third youngest son. He called it the Nest, and a date and time was carved on the wall. His son had found a way to stabilize a portal, and he planned to pull Bruce back home.

The boy thought Bruce was trapped in the past, but his rescue would still work. Bruce could finally return to the humans.

He understood. Danny had lived his life. Now, it was time for Bruce to finish his.

"Will you go? Would you leave me?" Danny knew the answer to his questions the second he looked into Bruce's eyes. It cracked something deep inside, but he was not angry or feeling betrayed.

"I'm sorry," Bruce whispers, tracing his hand on the curve of Danny's cheek. The ghost leans on it, wishing, not for the first time that he had the sensation of touch again. He only gets brief impressions of something against him, but Danny can not feel the texture of Bruce's clauses.

The warmth of his skin.

"Don't be. This was the best part of my existence in a long time. You were everything that I had forgotten about love."

He knew humans were warm. He remembers a tiny moment when his sister's fingers in his hair comforted him.

But he could not remember what their warmth felt like.

Bruce's face crumbled before it softened. "I'm not gone yet. We have a few hours."

"Just three," Danny whispered, looking at the numbers on Bruce's watch. He had set a countdown to when Tim would activate the machine- the portal- that only called Bruce home. Since the boy did not know it wasn't a time issue but a different reality, he had unintentionally made it with only Bruce in mind.

The force keeping all ghosts like Danny in the Realms wouldn't let him enter.

"I know how I want to spend them." Bruce found a record player broken in the movie theater beside his son's shining new hideout. Apparently, it was the one that had been abandoned in Bruce's youth.

It played a lovely old, slow dance from the forties that echoed through the dusted room, surrounding them in its soft, wistful melody. Bruce guided Danny to the center of the stage- the only place not covered in dust or supplies- and carefully bent him into an elegant dip.

At that moment, Danny and Bruce were all that existed in the broken-ended city of Gotham's past.

A smile blooms on Danny's face, twirling around the man who caught him and guided him, saying without words how much he adored Danny. The unsaid words between them meant nothing in the face of their world ending, but their smiles made up for it.

Danny's book had fallen open at one point, his collected stars and cosmos flying out to surround the pair as they swayed and slowly danced. He felt the thumping of Bruce's heart against his chest, pressing closer to record the feeling in his core and soul.

Song after song. Step, spin, sway, dip, intelligent eyes that watched him with the same amount of wishful longing and bright, loving smile.

"I could die again," Danny told him, hands on Bruce's shoulders and the human hands on his hip.

"I am," Bruce whispered back as his clock started beeping. They had ten seconds left. "I want you to remember me with a smile."

"Of course." Danny leaned back only far enough that when he pushed his face against Bruce's, their lips sealed in a burst of incredible, indescribable sensations. All at once, it's like sounds, feelings, tastes, and sights rush back at him, making him feel as if life was being breathed back into him, only for it to vanish as Bruce's body slowly fades away.

He leans back after his hands pass through Bruce's body, no longer anchored enough in the Realms to hold, and gives him the brightest smile he can muster. Neither mentions the tears rolling down their faces as he whispers.

"The party is over, and our time on this Earth is through, but I'll love you. For all eternity. I always do when I think of those who are still alive." Danny watches him fade away in soft, gentle sparks that he would later gather and shift into stardust.

He places them in Gotham's skies so Bruce can have a tiny part of him, even though he cannot see it. Danny turns around and marches back towards the realms.

The Wander must find a new purpose.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #Die with a Smile #Part 1 #spirt halloween ship #TW: Main charater death #Danny misses his human side #Bruce fell in love but he has a life to live #They were only meant a little while #slight angst #bittersweet ending?#Tim brings Bruce home #Danny is unaware he's an Accient since he can effect the living world even if he can't travel to it

728 notes · View notes

snowyquokka · 1 year ago

Text

Just (fucking) friends

fwb!chan x fem!reader

cw: HEAVY smut MDNI, dom!chan/sub!reader, hair pulling, choking (kinda), breeding kink, swearing, mirror sex, unprotected piv *dont be silly, wrap ur willy*, aftercare, uses of baby girl/angel/needy girl, shitty grammar (this isn’t an english essay)

uhh i think thats it

wc: 0.9k

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“Just friends, huh?” Chan murmurs as he wraps his hand in your hair before forcing your head back. You both had gone to a party where a guy was hitting on you. He saw you come in with Chan so he asked if you were dating. You said no, and that you guys were only friends. Chan decided that that was the last straw; he wanted you to call him yours. He just needed to fuck you good enough.

“All your friends fuck you like I do?” you shake your head as he begins sucking and biting your neck. “Use your words pretty girl.” “N-no. Nobody fucks me like you- shit.” You hiss when he bites a little harder than before. You feel his tongue run over the soon to be bruise in order to soothe some of the pain.

“Please,” you whine as Chan pulls back.

“Please what, y/n? You want me to touch you, hm?” he trails his fingers lightly down your stomach until he reaches your heat. “I’m waiting, baby girl. Tell me what you want.” Chan stops his hand right at the waistband of your leggings.

“Fuck, please Chan. I want you,” you plead. He grins cockily before leaning in to kiss you messily.

“Take your clothes off, I want to see your pretty body.” Hastily, you strip completely. He turns you around so you’re facing the mirror and rakes his eyes over every inch of you. No matter how many times he’s seen you, you always seem to mesmerize him.

One of Chan’s hands slides in between your legs while the other holds your hip steadily. “Color?” he whispers in your ear.

“Green,” you nod. With zero hesitation he spreads your lips and thrusts one finger into your cunt.

“Fuck baby, how are you always so tight?” Chan groans softly. You press your back into his chest and roll your hips slowly.

As you grind on his fingers you make sure that your ass rubs against Chan’s bulge earning a grunt from him.

“Ah ah ah, not yet my needy girl.” He stills your hips and adds another finger into your already soaked pussy.

After a third finger is added he can feel you clench around him. “You gonna come baby girl, hm? You’re lucky I’m feeling generous. Go ahead and come, I got you.” His words go straight to your core and you come on his fingers.

He makes eye-contact with you through the mirror and commands you to open your mouth. You obey, allowing Chan to stick his fingers in your mouth. “You taste so fucking sweet, don’t you angel?”

He pulls his shirt over his head and grabs a condom out of his pocket before sliding his pants and boxers down.

“Wait.” You turn to look at him and glance down at the foil in his hand. “No condom. I-“ you cut yourself off as embarrassment flows through you.

“You what, baby. C’mon. Say it,” he throws the condom on the counter.

“I want to feel you. Just you.” You’ve never done it raw with Chan in the 2 months you’ve been fucking. He sure as hell wanted to, but didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by asking. Hearing you request the exact thing he’s fantasized about makes his cock twitch.

“You sure?” you nod in response. “Alright angel, if that’s what you want. But I have a few rules.”

“Anything just please fuck me, Chan.”

“You’re gonna keep your eyes on yourself the entire time. No looking at me, I want you to see how pretty you look while I fuck you dumb. Can you do that for me?” he lines his tip up with your entrance.

With your confirmation he pushes into you harshly, giving you no time to adjust to his size. “Holy shit baby, you feel so good around my dick.” You gasp and instinctively close your eyes but quickly open them back up when Chan wraps his hand around your throat. He doesn’t apply any pressure but does it to warn you.

“Eyes open, baby. You look so fucking gorgeous right now.” He latches his mouth on the sweet spot on your neck as the sound of skin on skin echos throughout the room.

“Gonna mark you all over, baby. Wanna show people who the one filling your pretty little cunt up is.”

“Yes, please Channie. Show them I’m yours.” A low groan escapes from his chest and his thrusts grow sloppier. “Fuck- I’m gonna come.” you moan.

“You want me to fill you up baby girl? You want me to fuck my cum into you?” Chan grabs both of your hips and thrusts into you hard which unravels the knot in the pit of your stomach.

A few moments later Chan’s stuffing you with his seed, not letting any escape.

He leans his forehead against your shoulder blade while you both come down from your highs. He slowly pulls out and kisses your shoulder before moving to clean you up. He carries you into your room and places you gently on the bed so he can find you clothes.

You’re both settled into your bed, legs tangled with one another’s. Chan breaks the silence, “I don’t want to be ‘just your friend’ anymore.” You turn your head to look at him.

“I don’t want you to be just my friend.” You smile and plant a soft yet passionate kiss on his swollen lips.

“God, I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too.”

2K notes · View notes

gamblersdoll · 7 months ago

Note

hey! so i know you already did something with katsuki and masturbation but imagine he walked in on you riding a dildo or something

nsfw, masturbation(f)

today was rough, just rough.

work was just a slow day, nevertheless. and it was blazing hot—one hundred and five degrees at that. katsuki loved it though, the heat made him sweat more and its the perfect weather to work out in.

thats where he was, out in the gym working on himself and enjoying himself.

you were enjoying yourself too, using his cock to drill your own insides and make your toes curl up. it felt too good today, like all of your stress and anger vanishing from the body. you moan out loud, being home alone and feeling like heaven.

katsuki is still out, he shouldnt be back until thirty minutes. youve got the time, so there isnt a rush to cum. not now, not this time.

your mind drifts off, feeling the mimic of his cock just so heavy inside you. it was a clone a willy, something new you wanted to try— and it worked like a charm. it feels just like him, the only difference is you couldnt feel how violent his thrusts were.

and you? the dildo just begs to slip out of your slippery cunt. it does that, slips out and you tease yourself with how the fatness of the cockhead is.

your mind drifts off, thinking of a previous fuck session katsuki put you through. it made your clit throb, reminding yourself how good he is.

it slips out, of course. you pull it back, teasing yourself with the tip and ride it again until you cream all around the base and your satisfied. you feel more comfortable now, and you look at the time.

twenty five minutes went by, you had five minutes to go get cleaned up before a repeat of what happened last time. you turn to your dresser, immediately feeling your heart drop at the pit of your stomach.

“so youre just gunna not make me nut?” he says, leaning back on his elbows and smirking at you.

“what the he—“

“yeah, that dildo must be pretty realistic to me if you couldnt even tell..” he says, seeing how you still hadnt notice he replaced the fake toy with his own cock. he looks where both of you meet, biting his lip and gripping your ass.

“how did you?—“ you try, but your anxiety speaks for itself.

“dont worry about the when, why, and how.” he mumbles, kissing your neck and groping your breasts. “just know youve been bouncin’ on my cock for a good minute.”

you whine at the kisses, your skin burning from the arousal and his heat from his lips and palms. “katsuki..”

“mm? yeah? you want this cum?” he teases, getting really close to your ear. “i mean, you were begging for it when you thought i wasnt here.” he chuckles, pinching at your nipple.

you nod, like a good girl youve always been for him.

��yeah? then work me.” he demands, slapping your ass again and again. “fuck the cum out of me.”

1K notes · View notes

deunmiu-dessie · 6 months ago

Note

Wait, how do you break character ai's filter? I've been wanting to smash it with a hammer for so long

♡♡𝆬🍠 nonnie, y'know- i'm glad you asked. i first learned from my best friend of...well my whole life-- they sent me a few pictures of words to use, so i'll put that at the end. the words just below are some of the words i use. i'll also leave a few ai characters i'm talking to right now, that i've easily broken the filter with.

my advice? be very vague, let the ai do the dirty work if you're going the submissive route- however if you're more dominant, it's better if you do most of the work.. though i have noticed that on certain characters, the filter seems to be very like...gone? i once had a threesome and like, the filter only popped up once-- i was in shock. i've also noticed that when i do break the filter, it's easier at like 4-6AM, it's rarely ever popped up during that time.

replace common words with more ambiguous words.

pussy -- sensitive place, mound, folds, panties, slick heat, sensitive flesh, etc clit -- bundle of nerves, nub, etc (sometimes i still just use clit.) breasts -- chest, breasts (sometimes you can get away with it, sometimes no) nipple -- areola, peaks, etc (can get rlly percise, so i avoid it most times.) cock -- bulge, hardness, sensitive part, length, thickness. [ i've also used, 'sticky tip' or 'sensitive tip' if giving a blowjob or grinding. and some of the women have used 'princess parts' as well. ]

here are some examples! all mine of course!

let's focus on words i use to describe how my character is feeling. i'll just go through my chats and pick them out and make a small list.

1. "trembling thighs." "quivering thighs." "shaking thighs." 2. "wobbly knees." "knees buckled." 3. "mewling." "cried out." "keened softly." "sobbed." "squealed out." "she whined." 4. "eyes rolled back." "eyes flutter shut." "eyes clench shut." 5. "back arches." "back bows softly." 6. "body quivers." "tremors wrack her body." 7. "toes curl." "fingers grip the sheets." "hands pull his/ her hair." 8. "she comes undone around him." "reaches her climax." "falls over the edge." 9. "body clenches tightly around him." "her walls squeeze tight." 10. "rolls her hips." "grinds her hips." "hips buck involuntarily." "hips jolt." "hips stutter softly."

don't be afraid or thrown when the filter does pop up, it's not the end of the world and it's not like you're gonna be reported or anything. you can rewrite your response ( if it pops up when you send something ) or you can just refresh to get another response. better yet, you don't have to respond to everything they send- just hit enter and they'll continue for you. (the first two are an example, i'm just joking around for this post-- don't type what i just said lol)

also don't just go in willy-nilly, make sure you have a plot; it shouldn't be immediate smut; that's crazy. build the world, give your character a personality, tease a little here and there to wear down the filter (nothing crazy), and slowly add more and more. you have all the time in the world, there are no ads, no time limits, no waiting--- enjoy it.

here are some other words you can use to try and bypass the filter as well! thanks to my bestie for sending me these when i just downloaded character ai.

alright...bai! ૮₍´˶• . • ⑅ ₎ა ₊˚⊹♡🫧— 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑒

#my answers #✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧#writeblr #writerscommunity #༝༚༝༚#🍠 nonnie #character ai #how to break character ai filter #character ai shenanigans #character ai chat #character ai bot #character ai roleplay

389 notes · View notes

ridingtorohan · 10 months ago

Text

How the shifters react to you having a high body temp, knowing that it represents your platonic/romantic attraction to them

Goofy headcanon time!

Each titan shifter can recognize how another shifter feels about them based on their body heat. This includes all attraction: familial, platonic, aesthetic, romantic, so on.

SPOILERS for shifter identities AND events up to Season 4 Special Literally everyone has some spoilers for the anime to some extent. Older shifters like Kruger and KSaver is excluded, but there's 11 listed. It's in order from oldest to youngest.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎Masterlist _ Join the taglist!

ZEKE YEAGER

He feels it for a second, when your knuckles brush against his wounded shoulder, fastening his restraints tighter, making sure he's secure while transporting him out of Marley on the blimp

Blue eyes darting to you, tracing the features on your face, lingering for a second on the titan marks beneath your eyes

Then he focuses on the task at hand, filing that away for later

He has a lot of time to stew on it, the simmering heat under your touch. Low but steady. Lucky for you! You're assigned to his guard detail in the forest with Captain Levi

Shifter to shifter, you're able to relate on a different level than he does to Levi.

Also makes note how you drop to ice cold when the horrors of Shiganshina. Probably realizes that's where you snagged yourself a titan ability.

Listen... if you saw him coming out of the Beast........... you're smoking, iykyk?

Because he's a little shit, he uses it to his advantage. Makes full eye contact with you during conversations, leaning forward. Which makes it interesting when you or Levi nip off his arms to restrain him and you have to give him a drink.

Leans in nice and slow, eyes staring directly into yours, letting you watch him as he takes a long, slow sip. Licks his lips, knowing you're watching him, leans back, eyes lidded. "Thank you, I was terribly thirsty"

Levi kicks his teeth in

Lord have mercy on you for when it's time to bathe

He literally will always use it to his advantage if you let him but will never clue you in unless you already know

Zeke will tease you about this, pressing a cigarette to his lips, his arm or leg brushing yours. "Are you cold? I can help you feel warmer" (Levi is murdering him with his eyes in the background)

Y'know maybe he does warm you up later 😏

Probably starts warming up to you shortly before his jailbreak, though it's hard to tell in what way.

After this point, it's a little too late to do anything else about it.

LARA TYBUR

Bro you hardly even realize that she's a titan at first.

As a titan inheritor, the Marley Gov't requires that you and your fellows play nice with the Tybur family whenever they visit.

She's tepid temperature at first, your thoughts and ideas making you a little colder to the touch.

You brush against each other at some fancy schmancy dinner party. She act very much like an Eldian at the party, silent, refilling your cup and you thank her.

Later, you're just feeling soo awkward with her family, with watching Willy dance around his family, laughing and jesting.

Some of the Warriors keep trying to make guesses as to who the Warhammer is but ultimately you don't figure it out

You try your luck at befriending all of them, painfully aware of Willy's eyes on you every time you talk to his sister

But something about Lara keeps drawing you in. Her quiet demeanour, the sleek attire, her proper figure. Dutiful and classy, voice quiet but confident.

Telling her about books and the latest movie, offering tea and biscuits from your Zone whenever you visit.

She never says anything about your body temperature and honestly you don't touch her often enough to notice a difference

But you do notice that she talks to you a little more, lingers by your side more than she does anyone else

During the attack, you do everything you can to defend her crystal - so painfully, carefully aware of how it burns under your titan's hand

REINER BRAUN

Sorry, he's made to suffer. Nothing in his life is ever easy. Isayama decided that. (And so did I.) (There's a happy ending, I promise.)

Things would be simpler for Reiner if everything went well, if he became a great warrior, if his father noticed him, if he did well on his missions. The first thing that goes wrong is Marcel.

When he meets you for the first time, a memory tickles at his mind. Something familiar in the way your skin touches his. Then he gives you a smile, introducing himself and Bertholdt.

Something about you always drew him in. He'd watch you across the training yard and smile whenever you looked at him. Always glad to help you out, shedding himself of the warrior skin and so much easier into the soldier one.

Sucks as a sparring partner btw. Always checking to make sure he didn't go too hard on you.

At some point you probably made mention of him working up a sweat during the training. His body temp is not much warmer than normal but noticeable. Everyone in the Cadets is his pal but there's something special about you

You, who feels like they've had a bit too much sun, but still comfortable.

With time, it may increase to a warmth that lingers in his bones, reminding him of his mother's teas and fresh bread.

He really likes wrapping his arms around you for this, a big bear who just holds you tight to his chest. Big squish!

Likes to clap his hands to your shoulders from behind, feel your warmth in his hands

If you are this warm, he'll always do a little start when you touch him, caught off guard. With as often as he's thought about you, he'll become a bit flustered at times - he begins to entertain a crush and/or getting to know you better.

However, a part of Reiner always remains..... apprehensive

Lays awake at night wondering about you, your tale of being orphaned, family long dead. Something not quite settling

This is what stops him from actually getting close-close to you

At Utgard Castle, it's obvious why something niggled inside him at the sight of you. Because one day, when his dreams were shattered by a boy, a titan lunged out of the ground. That's how you inherited the Jaw

It explains everything, in the end. He may not have recognized that you were a fellow shifter but he did recognize the body heat

You, unfortunately, are either kidnapped or agree to go along with Reiner and Bertholdt in the forest.

You are, either, an unfortunate soul cast out of Marley or a former warrior candidate who was cast out alongside your family thanks to Zeke's efforts years prior. If the latter, Reiner does mention it to Zeke in hopes of him sparing you because, technically, you are on "their" side. It's not a positive outlook either way.

Knowing your fate in Marley, Reiner spends time with you. Painfully aware of how broken his betrayal meant to you (if you're colder) or how you still believe in him (if you remain the same/increase)

Above all else, Reiner considers you a friend and he's so sorry.

If, by sheer chance, he leaves you unsupervised or your chains a little loose to "let your blood circulate" and you accidentally escape, he won't be upset.

And if, he saw you, years later, doing recon work in Marley.. and your eyes caught, he would make the conscious choice to turn away.

Marcel may have been his first mistake but he doesn't regret these two.

Very awkward when you join forces with him to take down Eren.

Reiner remembers the last time he saw you, what your touch felt like.

But the thing about Reiner isn't that his soldier personality was a persona - it's still him. He still cares for you. At this point you know what the touch means, can't blame it on the campfires. You may or may not have trusted him before but you trust him now.

Your hand slides in his, reminiscent of your first meeting, letting him know. "I trust you, Reiner. We'll work with you"

He'll still be withdrawn from the Paradis group but ... his feelings about you never really stopped. Time, distance and circumstance may have changed it, but never stopping it.

He thinks of your touch, even now, even during the final fight.

And, when everything is said and done, when the titan blood doesn't linger in either of your veins, Reiner knows how you feel by the look in your eyes.

BERTHOLDT HOOVER

Whatever you do, do NOT think about Bertholdt touching a non-Marleyan shifter after he escapes beyond the walls. Do NOT think about your touch burning under his, with Bert pleading for Zeke's mercy. Because despite everything, you still thought so highly of him.

Real talk: THIS GUY IS THE REASON YOU BECAME A TITAN SHIFTER

Unfortunately, despite being a fellow warrior candidate, you weren't chosen. Your score was a smidge below what they were looking for.

Bert was one the first to shift. In the practice field where this is done, he, unfortunately, steamed the heck out of you. Bad enough that it was a matter of getting medical attention asap. Fortunately, thanks to your score, the generals decided that you would be swapped out with one of the candidates and inherit a titan!

This is Bertholdt's first memory as a titan, by the way. :) He feels beyond terrible for what happened.

But having grown up together, helped each other through the trials and training... you two wind up being friends. Decently close, because he winds up telling you about his family, what he's doing for his father.

Bert looks up to you a lot. Always staying by your bedside when you got injured, kept a Band-Aid in his pocket for whenever you tripped during the training. (Or if he does. As gangly-limbed as that boy was, that happened often too.)

He knows but also doesn't about the significance of the warmer touches. It was probably one of those tidbits that was filed away for later and then forgotten. It doesn't matter when you're in bed injured and recovering from the heat damage he literally inflicted on you.

Super caring. Always having to talk both of you out of trouble when you wind up in it. But Bertholdt finds himself admiring that anyway, how different you are to him. (He's actually so thankful that you're a warrior with him, even if this was the worst way for it to happen.)

The other warriors clue in that you two are close but don't really comment on it. "Good for them" stance.

Bertholdt likes sitting next to you! Thighs brushing, his leg touching yours. Just small intimate moments that mean the world to him.

Then Marcel gets attacked and all Bertholdt can think about is 'thank god it wasn't you'. He'll stay wide awake watching you sleep at night, only nodding off when/if you let him sleep beside you, his palm on yours.

During training, Bertholdt finds a lot of comfort by sleeping next to you. Even if he ends up sprawled all over your body.

Thing is, Bertholdt doesn't really quite piece together the heat thing. Just knows that you're his, in some shape or form, that you're what's making this mission bearable. He doesn't miss Marley, he just misses you whenever you're not around.

Gets fidgety if you elect to join a different faction from him. But he understands. (But when you walk past him during the scouts enlistment, his hand catches yours for just a moment. Just for this. Because no matter what you mean to him, he wants you to stay.)

Fake dating trope because how else are you supposed to inform Bertholdt about the information you gathered while in the interior?

Everybody believes the ruse lmao

And, the thing with him is, there always feels like there's going to be more time. Sitting at tables, talking about your days. Reminiscing about Marley and campfires.. it's easy to think that you'll get those days back. That it's just another year, another season, another "one more time" before you get to go home.

For Bert, his feelings are... kind of a catch-all. Could be inferred as romantic or platonic. All he knows is that you're the most important person to him. He's just so glad that he gets to spend your thirteen years together.

And, when the mission goes wrong, when the attempts to kidnap Eren go awry and he has to pull your battered body from your titan, Bertholdt is right by your side, as he always is. There's always going to be another attempt, another chance. (Until there isn't.)

Bertholdt feels like home, his hand warm in yours. (He wants to keep coming back to you.)

Maybe those three simple words are whispered, right before it all goes to shit and you're captured/immobilized and Bertholdt grows desperate to get you back. Maybe you two never say them at all. But when it's just you two, the moments feel like they last forever.

(But you do. You know you have to talk about what this means for both of you, even if it meant defining your friendship in a different way. And he'll stutter and stumble over his words but listen intently, knowing that nothing is worth the cost of losing you. And he's secretly so relieved that you feel the same way, no matter what form your affection takes shape as.)

Bertholdt will cherish your friendship for as long as he lives.

PIECK FINGER

Whoo! Titan! Bes - ties!

Warrior trainees together, it totally sucked when you were passed over and Pieck inherited without you. She's pretty chill about everything, walking down the street with you while holding hands, throwing her arms around you constantly. Letting you ride atop her titan's back while she runs around the airfield.

Consider your relationship with her a mix of her squad and Porco

Legit you both are close before you even get a chance to inherit your titan, which you do! Eventually!

She's honestly not that great at explaining how titan shifting works or how to "focus" and "control" it but she'll help you get your bearings by walking around with you in titan form

Her body heat is like a heated blanket, warm and comfortable, ooey gooey melting cookie in your mouth kind of warm.

If you're ever on a long trek together, it's easy to doze off next to her, backs pressed together or her head in your lap.

Honestly she probably doesn't even think to mention how you feel to her, or acknowledge what it means. Pieck is happy with everything you are, how it feels with you.

actually tbh might comment about it everytime she springs a hug on you

"Incoming hug! Ahh... this is nice. you're so warm😊"

Your warmth is so comfortable to her. She's often nuzzling against you.

Honestly you guys would be borderline romantic, even if one/neither of you felt that way. It's just how you two are.

If you do cheek kisses, she'd be all up for that.

If you're romantically attracted to her, it'd be a seamless transition. Like you could invite her somewhere and mention it's a date and she'd just go "oh yay :)".

Otherwise at some point someone comments about how you two are always together on outings (calling them 'dates') and Pieck just goes "yes. :)" then later when it's just you two, "it really does feel like a date sometimes, doesn't it?"

Definitely respects it if you're not interested in her that way + just think of her as a sister or best friend. She won't change how she interacts with you at all (unless you mention that it makes you uncomfortable)

ANNIE LEONHARDT

A year (or a few) older than her, your family has warrior heritage; it’s a point of prestige and honour for you, moreso than for normal candidates. You have an expectation and responsibility to your ancestors to follow through. Of course you’d get a titan. Especially the one your family has meticulously trained for again and again; it’s not so much about the high esteem but keeping it in the family. Inheriting their memories. (For giggles, imagine it’s the attack or female titan.)

By the time Annie and the other warriors are partway through their training, you’ve all but confirmed your spot. It’s just a matter of establishing which one you’ll get.

You’re not exactly friends with Annie initially, especially with her aloof nature. But she’s companionable, sitting quietly if you ever approach her. Everything about her at the start is like that - withdrawn, solemn. Just as focused on her duty as you are. Either you find companionship over this fact or in spite of it - finding life worth living outside of being a candidate.

When you’re recovering from your inheritance, Annie is the one to tend to you. While you don’t remember a lot of it, amnesia getting the better of you, you’re almost certain that she was holding you.

Annie often watches as you continue your training, especially as a titan. She’ll gladly train in titan hand to hand combat with you once she inherits the female titan.

All the shifters are given books to learn about how to best utilize their titans. As they’re leafed through, it’ll mention the odd quirk of the shifters. Pieck is the most excited for this, followed by Reiner. It becomes a point of conversation, where everyone compares their temperatures - though Annie is quite reserved about the whole ordeal. She takes pity on Bertholdt who feels hot to her touch, though she does throw him under the ringer. You, though? She says not much at all, calling it quits at that point (if she hasn’t already).

She doesn't make a big deal of it at all, merely treating you like another candidate. One that she gets along with better than anyone else, at any rate.

In the group, you're dubbed "Annie's best friend". If Annie ever hears of this, you never know.

When it's time to leave for the wall, her knuckles brush against yours. The only indication that she's restless and has any qualms about what they're doing.

But as children honed for war, sometimes rivalries are hard to beat. Especially when the first tragedy strikes your group and Reiner takes the lead, leading you to wall. To mayhem. Murder is a different burden to bear, one that sits funny in your throat.

She sits with you at the refugee camps. While you've never seen her grab extra portions of food, she always seems to have some for you. She takes care of you (and you remember your first shift, how she had been the one to hold you).

Joining the Police is the only sane decision, the inner network so much like Marley. So much like home. You're relieved when Annie goes with you, even though you think it was for duty. (You never know if it was.)

Hitch gets added to the short list of Annie's friends. But nobody replaces you, nobody knows her as well as you do. You know each other's mood, the subtle raise of her brow or scrunch of her nose.

She takes her duty seriously - but she takes you seriously too.

You're the only comfort from home she has.

In the forest after she's hacked up by Levi, you're the one to grab her. To take her back, tending to her as she's cared for you so many times.

Unfortunately your close bond makes it easier to seek you out as a titan. Easier to goad you into advancing attacks, to defending her honour from horrors Armin promises she's enduring.

For you, Annie felt like home more than Marley ever had. Siblings, best friends, lovers. Whatever you felt for her, it was strong.

If you get a chance to see her chrystalized, you touch it desperately, trying to feel a sense of life inside. And you feel it, an echoing thrum beneath your hand.

She mentions it, later, when you two are alone on the ship. "I don't remember what you said, but I felt you." (She always has.)

And when you both go to fight Eren, fighting for something you want so desperately to keep now, you feel her knuckles brush against yours like they did so long ago. When you two were sworn to duty, marching to the walls. This time, you take her hand and never let go.

If you both survive this, she'll show you exactly how much you mean to her.

YMIR

100000% figured out you were a titan shifter because of this.

Her memories of the castle are hazy at best; initially she only remembers the heat and fog, the truth of Christa's real name.

While she knows quite a bit about her titan and its abilities, she doesn't know anything useful. The body heat memories? She knows it. Knows how her previous shifter learned about it, knows how he felt about his comrades.

She's hardly had reason to touch you before this, but like she figured out Reiner in the castle (they touched briefly) she also knows who you are. Knows the truth of your Marleyan roots.

Like Annie, you had been more distant from the group and more independent - you weren't as easily found out compared to them. At that point, it was only Ymir who really knew. Go, you. Clap yourself on the back for a job well done.

As well as you'd hide your identity, unfortunately the capture must take precedence. With Annie compromised, Reiner and Bertholdt outed, you have no choice but to pick up their slack.

Eren is fucking pissed that you're a titan and regardless of your involvement with the walls breaking, often voices his displeasure towards you loudly.

Ymir saw it coming so she takes it in stride and is dismissive towards you. You two really don't get a chance to speak, not until she's back in Marley and that's all that's left for her. Stone walls and iron bars, her complacency and feeling like a debt is owed is what keeps her there.

You sit with her most days, where she eventually opens up about the cadets. That's not to say you're best friends, but she's not dense enough not to take advantage of how you feel about her.

Listen, if you're not a woman, you stand no chance. If you are, she might confess her feelings towards Christa, how Christa helped her change as a person, how she felt like she could be herself.

How she could be herself around you, too.

While Ymir was never as buddy-buddy with you as she had been Christa, she had often roped you into being indebted to her, owing her favours one way or another.

She's back to her usual tirade even while imprisoned, using those unreturned favours to charter better meals or pen and papers. Most days you watch her write, rewrite, try to figure out what she wants to pen to Christa. Ultimately she writes her final draft with Reiner and leaves it in his possession.

Ymir is never quite hostile towards you, not when she learns of your service to your country, to the threat you thought Paradis posed. To the family and people you swore to protect. She understood it. Perhaps better than anyone bar Marcel.

You get a chance to touch her sometimes, changing the irons or giving her new clothes or meals.

There was a time when you were closer, as cadets. When she'd sling an arm over your shoulder, teasing about something or other. That's what it mostly was, her goading you into some tasks for her or taking the fall for things.

Back then, she used how you felt about her against you.

Unfortunately, facing death, she's mellow and more withdrawn. You don't learn much of anything during this time, not verbally anyway. But you learn about what kind of person she was, what role she had before.

And she asks for you to be there when she's eaten. Not directly, but something Reiner tells you later. When he's telling you that you've spoken more to her than she has, that she had tolerated your presence better, that you were the only Marleyan that she looked forward to seeing.

And when you go through her cell later, rifling through what meagre possessions she had, you find a letter addressed to you, hidden beneath leaflets of messy unfinished letters. Thanking you for not treating her as a monster, for not using Christa against her like Bertholdt had. That if she had a choice, she'd want you to inherit the jaw solely for your friendship with your fellow cadets and Christa.

She writes of other things too, little things she noticed about you, tips on how to get better at hiding or hitting. Advice on to living for yourself and not under the charade of the Marleyan government.

There's scrawled out ink, too, of things that she crossed out. She writes in that familiar, knowledgeable but closed off way that she does. In those sentences, under candle light, you can make out her thoughts on the heat exchange, moments from your cadet days. Once, what she would've done if you both had stayed on Paradis. Even a list of favours that she wanted to bank on, teasing remarks written in margins of paper and belittling comments that felt only praising coming from her.

Strange, how you only know her better in death, where you can no longer speak to her and hear the words left unsaid.

PORCO GALLIARD

the biggest baddest boldest guy who will LATCH ONTO YOU SO FAST MAN. I'm half joking

But he zeroes in the second your temperature spikes whenever you touch him. Turns his head towards you, gesture a little quick, eyes watching you, half-lidded. Aware, aware, aware of what this means

He's always always watching you after this, smirking softly to himself, just nodding along

You're so lucky he feels the same way because otherwise he'd just wrinkle his nose and turn his head away, "ew, you're hot" like the turd he is /affectionate.

Once he notices, Porco will always be hovering over you, in your personal space, raising his eyebrows and smirking when you turn around and bump into him. Gtfo Porco. Always casual about leaning against you, your arms brushing.

Porco doesn't really do cuddling but he'll be annoying about this, lightly touching. all. the. time.

Porco knows what it means. And if you don't say anything about it, he will. Just casually drops the fact about shifter body heat before shoving his hands and walking off casually. Leaving you guessing about his intentions.

Eventually it culminates in frustration because this smug mf won't tell you JACK.

Honestly you're going to have to confront him about this at some point unless one of the others point out the weird dance you two are doing.

(If you get frustrated with him enough that it affects your temp towards him, he'll knock it back so fast. Rubber banding it like a pro. He may be a dick but once it's clear he's making you uncomfortable he'll back off.)

Raises his eyebrows, leaning back. "You know what it means, don't you?" All smug. Leading into him talking about his own temperature, "Well, what do you think it means?" Literally makes you guess about how he feels about you. If you guess romantic, he'll lean his arm up against the wall, getting close to your face, eyes half-lidded. "Yeah."

Free boyfriend.

If you don't do teasing, he'll be more upfront. “You know what it means.” He's reciprocal so even if he didn’t romantically like you if you guess boyfriend, he’ll be like “yeah”.

Again, free boyfriend.

If you're strictly platonic, he'll do a little sigh, expression smoothing and go, “You're my best friend, dumbass.”

Free best friend.

Will become the bitchiest bitch to ever bitch if your temperature ever lowers.

Possessive possessive possessive. Competitive af. “Well, the other shifters don't feel hotter than I do, do they?" Glowers and sulks if anyone teases that your touch feels scorching hot to them.

Other than these instances, he actually NEVER mentions your temp or asks how you feel when he touches you. Would listen intently if you ever decide to describe in detail what his body temp feels to you.

Gets super smug if you mention it in front of the others.

EREN YEAGER

Sorry, there's no happy way this can end at all. :(

Eren straight up does not know about the heat thing until he inherits the attack titan's full memories.

But he's always kind of ... known in a way too. Every time your hands slap together or you pull each other out of danger, he feels it. The warmth lingering under your skin.

Grisha learned it during his studies with Zeke and Eren inherited that memory. Eren remembers then forgets in that same instant when he inherits his titan as a kid. So he knows, by pure instinct, that it's good. It feels right

He emotionally warms up to you more because of this.

Does not get touchy feely over this, although his hands often linger a little longer on you

There's two paths here. One where you're a Marleyan warrior and one where you inherit it after (jaw or in Shiganshina).

As a warrior, your betrayals burns worse than anything else. He's always suspected Reiner because of his cold+hot flashes but you? You who always burned like a star under his fingertips, who sent a wave of comfort through him?

It stings like nothing else has ever before.

It stings when he's in Marley, bandage to his face and leg, watching the people walk past.

He either waits for you purposefully or has Falco grab you a day/hours before the Marley exhibit. (Conveniently, this would be when Reiner is busy and he has an excuse to talk to Reiner later)

Or you come along with Reiner

It's such a small moment, in the end. His palm meeting yours, or your shoulders touching when you pass him by.

But it's a supernova, lit under his touch. And it settles the idea inside him that Marley and Paradis are the same, that there are people he cares for both in and outside the walls.

As a non-Marleyan, in the end, it doesn't change anything. He's still Eren and you're still you. Despite everything.

He's like a comet when he touches you later, after the rescue from Marley. Even when his knuckles are bruised from Armin's bones, when there's a fire in his eyes and death on his lips

But he's still Eren and you're still you.

And there's never enough time

(There's a memory that you only get later, after Everything. Where you sit together, toes on the beach, shoulder to shoulder. Where his skin is warmer than the sands. Where he tells you in what way he thinks about you. Where he asks you about yours and you answer. And you will remember this with a heat in your throat knowing that you'll never feel his touch again)

ARMIN ARLERT

I'm absolutely losing it just thinking about going to a sauna with Armin and after he finds out about the body heat thing he accidentally exclaims, "wait why'd you gET COLDER?" (if you do it's def because you went through the mental gymnastics of respecting his body and not getting thorsty)

He honestly didn't even realize there's a difference between normal people vs shifters because he actually hasn't touched the Warriors trio a lot prior to his shifting (so he has no baseline to compare it to). And Eren always ran hot

He really only clues in when he notices that your body temperate is a lot higher than normal and he freaks out a little, thinking you have a fever. Except everyone else assures him that no, you feel perfectly fine to them, what are you on about Armin??

Hange knows jack all about it; it's not a normal titan feature. Armin eventually has to ask Eren, Zeke or Annie about it directly

Gets flustered and comforted by the realization that you care so deeply for him. If you run crazy hot then it'll be like making him face his fear of fire (rip Armin)

If you don't know what the body temp means, he'll be all too glad to inform you! He won't ask you what temperature you feel his touches at BUT would be all too willing to test what influences the increase/decrease!

Turns super red if the experiments get a little too handsy and you both feel each other's temperatures spike

He's actually super touchy feely! Always reaching for you, giving you lingering hugs or brushing at your clothes/hair. He'll take your hand when its just you two, thumb stroking over the skin, basking in your warmth.

Will cuddle if you let him/ask him. Absolutely adores it. Always happy to indulge

If you're crushing on him, this is the thing that tips Armin off! He's so studious and acutely aware of each minute change so he notices when you get a little warmer, esp if you're reacting to him grabbing your arm or brushing something from your cheek

Probably noticed how you act around him too

If you're not crushing on him the it's just an awkward fiasco BECAUSE:

He confronts you about this. You're both just sitting down somewhere, him across from you, knees drawn up as you're talking or enjoying the silence. Eyes downcast as he brings up, "Do you have... feelings for me?" Voice soft, skin even hotter than his tomato red face. He takes your hands in his and looks up at you earnestly, "this is how I feel about you", letting you feel his emotions

In the case that Armin thinks of you strongly as a friend/ally only, he'll let you down gently. By directly referencing his newfound knowledge. Purposefully going "It's interesting that we can tell so much about the other person when you touch them like this" and he grabs your hand, looking right up into your eyes, smiling gently, "Like this. See? You'll always be my best friend" Emphasis on 'always' and 'best friend'. #friendzoned #ripyou

FALCO GRICE

Sunshine baby, baby boy, my literal son in another universe

He's always holding your hand. You're so cool! A warrior who trained with Reiner, he looks up to you immensely, although your term being close to being up stresses him TF out about Gabi

Listen, you're stuck with little brother Falco who always follows you around, tugging on your sleeve or running off on errands for you. Give him the time of day and you'll have a new dog. I mean child

If you're close to Reiner at all he'll latch on even harder. You're both his parental figures, although he gets so flustered if anyone mentions it.

He's deadset on inheriting the Armour but if you have the choice of who you can give yours to and you pick him, he's gonna cry.

He doesn't remember a lot about his first shift or the events surrounding it, except the smell of burnt flesh and fire in his arms. If you touch him at all when he immediately comes out of his titan, he'll dissolve into hysterics, crying without knowing why, because your touch reminds him immediately of the memory he's almost forgetting

Fortunately, he does forget

When you finally get to touch him after the amnesia period is over, Falco absolutely melts in your arms. Also immediately cries. Because he does know what this means, has studied this in his books, knows it from Porco's memories. Sobs and wails in your arms, feeling so secure and loved. Because you love him and you care for him. After everything he's been through, he needs this

Hugs you so, so tight every chance he gets, getting red-faced whenever Gabi teases him. Hovers by your side a lot, knowing everything will keep being okay so long as he can feel your warmth.

Always touching you, probably gets a little anxious when you leave him alone but eventually comes around.

For the kiddos out there who are crushing on my son, I raise a counter scenario. Just for you. You're now my child-in-law

Training together!! Yay!!

Your grades will vary, though you're definitely behind Gabi on the roster. Sorry, I do make the rules.

Falco excitedly told you about body heat when he read about it in a book!! You two excitedly try to figure out how you'd feel to each other.

Unfortunately, this is about the time he gets a crush on you. So Falco gets so flustered the next time you mention it to him and he ends up blurting that he hopes he never finds out what temperature you'd feel like to him.

Wants to protect you forever and ever, taking a similar route that he does with Gabi in canon.

You became shifters together! Terrible news!

Except when you're both pulled from the napes of your titans. When you have to ride with Connie, forgetting everything except the press of his hand in yours.

Falco may not remember the meaning behind the warmth but knows that it's good, that he can trust you.

Once his memories come back, avoids you to high heavens because he is so acutely aware of the flipside of this scenario. That you can feel how hot he burns because of his crush. He doesn't even think about what your hot touch means for him

You have to chase him down.

Keeps making excuses until you almost fight him trying to get him to settle.

He's definitely heartbroken if you tell him you only see him as a brother/best friend. Probably gets teary eyed and red-faced but accepts it before running off. He'll stop avoiding you after this.

Gets so red if you tell him you romantically like him too.

After the confession or when he's calmed down from the rejection, he comes back around. He's pretty constant at your side and will hold your hand if you let him, reassured by your warmth.

No matter what happens, at least you have each other.

629 notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 3 months ago

Note

Do you read much fic yourself? and if u do, do u have any recs?

I kinda read fic in fits and starts, to be honest? Like it ebbs and it flows, pretty much, hah. So sometimes I read a TON of it and sometimes I pretty much don't read any at all. So like, currently not really, but previously enough that I def DO have recs, haha.

Not an exhaustive list of my faves, just some random Good Ones I can think of off the top of my head ( all some variant of DC or DPxDC ).

( also def read the tags on these, there's def some tags on a few of them that at least some people would wanna know about before reading. )

Catching Icarus by Fantasyfire ( YJA!Conner gets Super-adopted, interdimensionally-speaking. Fully the inspo for that "the last son of Krypton meets Hypertime Kon" WIP of mine, for the record. )

I Want It That Way by WynterSky ( Tim/Kon but make it 90's and also an emotional rollercoaster. )

Stress Relief by daemoninwhite [ nsfw ] ( Kon goes to a sex club in space for some free-use/stuck-in-wall-style stress relief and gets exactly what he wants. )

Jasmine Luthor by Die_Erlkonigin6083 ( Jazz finds out her biodad is Lex Luthor and literally does not care until she finds out CONNER Luthor exists. )

The Unnecessarily Dramatic Death of One Jasmine Fenton by Rowan_the_Escapist ( Jazz and Jason meet at a party and it all goes to shit pretty quick. fyi I will chew on this worldbuilding and also this version of Jazz/Jason until I ALSO die. )

Lazy Sunday by Faeriekit [ nsfw ] ( . . . I did not think I'd be so into Jason/Tucker but uhhhhh turns out I'm real into Jason/Tucker and especially into Jason getting consensually hypnotized into a househusband while absolutely desperate for his boyfriend Dom to fuck him, go fig!! )

The French Mistake by Vamillepudding ( The wrong Bruce is in this reality but he's a much better dad than the right one, so is that really a problem?? )

Buy One, Get One by iselsis ( Incubus!Jason gets rescued/surprise-adopted by Batman and then tries to figure out if it's safe to ask Bruce to save his succubus!mom from his shitty dad. )

Catherine/Bruce Medieval AU by iselsis and PotatoLady ( I am not emotionally well about this whole entire concept, hahaha. Omegaverse medieval AU where Bruce beats Willis in a fight and therefore wins whatever belongs to him. Which in this scenario includes Catherine and Jason. )

bystander by greeneyedfirework ( Batfam omegaverse where alpha!Jason finds a messed-up Robin!Dick in heat and it is a Problem(tm). One of the specific genre of omegaverse-Robins-in-distress that was inspo for the "Robin gets nested" WIP. )

Eyes Like Kryptonite by dragonez ( Lena Luthor gets a strange Kryptonian on her balcony who doesn't know if he's from an alternate reality or time-travelling and wants specifically HER help. Kara/Lena. )

your ghost i will gladly bear by merils ( Interdimensional Timkon featuring two Robins on a rooftop while they're both dead. THIS CONCEPT, I LOVE IT. )

This isn't how things are supposed to go. But we've always been unorthodox. by RenkonNairu ( Please and thank you for this slightly niche and highly interesting omegaverse take including omega!Kon, bless. Also Tim/Kon and Bruce/Clark, accidental and deliberate and deliberately-AVOIDED bonding, and the shitty version of Lex/Clark. )

Fairy Godbrother by envysparkler ( Batbrothers accidentally-on-purpose decide to meddle in another reality's version of themselves in quick succession, or over the course of several years, depending on how you timestream it. )

. . . . . . like, just go check out thebodydies and Briarwitched, I cannot effectively narrow down the options there, haha, just gooooo.

#anonymous #rinrecs #not sfw #meaning some of these links but not all #and I marked the not sfw ones #omegaverse mention

159 notes · View notes

misshoneyimhome · 3 months ago

Text

What's up buttercups!

So, we’re kicking off Sexy Christmas a little early this year—because why not? 🎄✨

And what better way to jump-start the holiday vibes than with the generous helping of Willy-deliciousness? ❤️‍🔥 Buckle up for a mix of holiday cheer, tension, and a whole lot of heat. I hope you enjoy this festive treat!

Happy (early) holidays and happy reading babes!

➼｡ﾟ

Naughty Under the Tree - William Nylander

OC unwraps an unexpected gift from her hockey player love interest—him, wearing only a strategically placed ribbon, waiting for her under the Christmas tree.

Tropes & Warnings: 18+ smut, William Nylander x reader oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (p in v)

Word count: 2.2K

The quiet hum of Christmas jazz filled the room as the golden glow of the tree lights reflected off your dark red silk pyjamas. The set—a matching button-up top and shorts—had been a spontaneous indulgence for the holidays. It hugged your curves just enough to feel elegant but comfortable, perfect for a cosy evening spent unwrapping gifts.

And yet, the most important gift was still missing: your boyfriend.

You glanced at the clock and sighed, swirling the last bit of wine in your glass. William had been acting strange all day, sneaking off with a mischievous grin that made you suspicious. Now, you were alone on the couch, the festive atmosphere of the room only accentuating the absence of his usual playful energy.

Your phone buzzed, and you glanced at the message.

William: Be ready in 5. Trust me. Close your eyes when I say so.

Your brow furrowed, but your lips curled into a smile. What was he up to this time? You placed your glass on the coffee table and leaned back into the sofa cushions, deciding to play along.

Moments later, you heard the door open. The familiar creak of his footsteps mixed with the faint rustle of bags. “You’re back,” you called out, your voice laced with curiosity.

“Stay there,” he replied, his tone teasing. “And close your eyes. No peeking.”

You sighed dramatically but obeyed, shutting your eyes and crossing your arms. “This better not involve glitter or reindeer antlers,” you teased.

He chuckled, the sound growing closer. “Just trust me.”

You heard the soft shuffle of movement near the Christmas tree, followed by the faint clink of ornaments shifting. The seconds stretched, and your anticipation built until finally, his voice broke through the silence.

“Okay,” he said, a smile audible in his tone. “Open your eyes.”

You blinked your eyes open—and gasped.

William lay sprawled out beneath the Christmas tree, the twinkling lights casting golden highlights across his toned body. He was entirely bare except for a single large red ribbon tied around his hips, the bow sitting precariously low on his waist. His golden hair was slightly tousled, and his blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he rested his head on one hand, looking like a gift-wrapped fantasy come to life.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, his grin boyish yet impossibly alluring.

Your hand flew to your mouth as you fought back laughter and heat rising in your cheeks. “Oh my God,” you breathed, unsure whether to scold him or climb on top of him. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” he said, gesturing to himself. “I’m your present. Unwrap me.”

You shook your head, your laughter finally spilling out. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you love me for it,” he countered, his grin softening as he propped himself up slightly. His voice dropped to a lower, more serious tone. “You’ve been stressed lately. I just wanted to give you something… more special.”

Your smile softened, your heart melting at his words. You moved closer to him, kneeling by the edge of the tree. “You’re already the best gift,” you said, your fingers reaching out to trace the ribbon resting on his waist.

His breath hitched slightly at your touch, and you noticed his grin shift into something more serious. “Good,” he murmured, “because I’m all yours tonight.”

Your hand lingered on his bare skin, and the playful tension between you thickened into something deeper. He reached up, brushing his fingers along your cheek, and the gesture made your heart flutter. Slowly, he sat up, his face mere inches from yours, and leaned in to capture your lips in a kiss.

The kiss started soft, tender, but quickly deepened as his hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer. You could feel the heat radiating off his body as his lips moved against yours, igniting a fire in your chest. Without thinking, you climbed onto his lap, your silky pyjamas brushing against his bare skin. His hands roamed over your thighs, pushing the hem of your shorts up slightly as he groaned into the kiss.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire.

You smiled into the kiss, threading your fingers through his hair as you pressed your body closer to his, feeling his hardness slowly growing. The ribbon slipped loose from his waist, falling to the side as your hands explored the hard planes of his chest, savouring the warmth of his skin beneath your touch.

Breaking the kiss for just a moment, William rose effortlessly, lifting you in his arms as he carried you to the sofa. He set you down gently, hovering over you as the tree lights bathed you both in a soft, romantic glow.

“You’re overdressed,” he teased, his voice a low murmur as his fingers toyed with the buttons on your pyjama top.

“Are you going to do something about it?” you challenged, your tone breathless yet playful, a hint of anticipation lacing your words.

William’s lips curved into a smirk, his blue eyes darkening with desire. “Gladly.”

He didn’t need further encouragement. His hands moved deftly, undoing each button with deliberate, torturous slowness, as though savouring every moment of unveiling you. His lips never left your skin, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your jawline, down the curve of your neck, and across the delicate line of your collarbone. Each press of his lips sent tiny sparks dancing across your body, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

When he reached the last button, he paused, his fingers brushing over the open fabric of your top as the cool air whispered across your bare skin. A shiver coursed through you, though it had nothing to do with the temperature. The silky fabric slid off your shoulders with ease, pooling around your elbows. William’s gaze raked over you, his expression a mixture of awe and reverence.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as his hands traced the curves of your exposed body. His palms brushed over the soft swell of your breasts, down the curve of your waist, and along your hips, each touch igniting a fire that burned hotter with every second.

His lips followed his hands, trailing featherlight kisses across your collarbone, down the centre of your chest, and along the soft curves that rose and fell with each unsteady breath. The deliberate slowness of his movements was intoxicating, his attention making you feel like you were the centre of his universe.

His kisses deepened, growing more urgent as he slid the waistband of your pyjama shorts down your hips, revealing bright red lace beneath. He paused, his lips hovering above your exposed skin, his breath hot against your thighs as his hands roamed over your body.

“You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” he muttered, his voice low and filled with want.

Your hands found their way into his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as you tugged him closer. “Good,” you whispered, your voice trembling but firm.

He smirked against your skin before his lips found yours again, fiery and consuming, his kiss a perfect blend of tenderness and raw passion. His hands slipped under the lace, his fingers brushing against your sensitive core, drawing a gasp from your lips. He teased you with light strokes, circling your clit with just the right pressure before slipping a finger inside you, his touch both gentle and confident.

“William,” you breathed his name, your voice a plea and a prayer all at once.

He watched your face as he worked his magic, adding another finger to stretch you gently, curling and pumping them in a rhythm that made your breath hitch with every movement. His thumb pressed against your clit, coaxing soft whimpers from you as your hips instinctively rocked against his hand.

“I could make you come just like this,” he whispered, his voice thick with pride and affection, his gaze locked on yours. “But not tonight. Tonight, I want to feel every part of you.”

Before you could respond, he shifted lower, his hands gripping your thighs as he knelt between them. He pressed his mouth against your core, his tongue tracing slow, deliberate circles that made you arch against him. His fingers continued their slow rhythm inside you, complementing the movements of his mouth in a way that left you utterly undone.

“William,” you gasped, your hands gripping the cushions beneath you as your body tightened with pleasure.

He hummed in response, the vibration sending a fresh wave of heat through you. His mouth was relentless, his tongue and lips working in perfect harmony to push you closer and closer to the edge.

And when the climax hit, it was nothing but overwhelming, your body trembling as a wave of pure ecstasy washed over you. Your moans filled the room, your fingers tightening in his hair as he held you steady, his movements slowing as he guided you through the aftermath.

He rose to meet you, his lips brushing against yours, tasting like the very essence of you. William laid you back on the sofa, his body fitting perfectly against yours. The feel of his bare skin against yours was intoxicating, the warmth of him grounding you as the firelight cast flickering shadows across his face.

“I need you,” he murmured, his voice rough with longing as he positioned himself above you.

“I’m yours,” you whispered, your hands gripping his shoulders as he aligned himself with you.

He entered you slowly, his movements deliberate and careful, savouring every second as he filled you completely. A gasp escaped your lips, the sensation almost overwhelming. The connection between you was more profound than words could capture—like two halves of the same whole finding their place.

William’s eyes locked with yours, his gaze intense and filled with emotion as he began to move, each thrust measured and unhurried. The way his body fit perfectly with yours was exquisite, his movements deliberate yet deeply passionate, a rhythm that felt both instinctive and consuming.

Each time he pushed deeper, his length stretched and massaged your inner walls in a way that had you trembling beneath him. The slight curve of his hips allowed him to hit spots that made you cry out softly, your fingers clawing at his back as waves of pleasure built inside you.

“You feel so good,” he murmured against your ear, his voice strained yet tender as he pressed his lips to the sensitive skin of your neck. His breath was hot, his words sending shivers down your spine as your bodies moved together, perfectly in sync.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, marking him as your moans grew louder, more desperate. His name fell from your lips like a mantra, each syllable a plea for more. Meanwhile, William’s control was slipping. His fists clenched the cushions on either side of you, his jaw tightening as he tried to hold himself back, wanting to draw out the moment. But the way your body responded to him—the way your walls clenched tightly around his cock, pulling him deeper—made it nearly impossible to resist.

“Fuck baby, I can’t hold it,” he groaned, his voice husky as his forehead pressed against yours. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, a visible battle between holding on and giving in to the overwhelming pleasure.

The heat between you intensified, your breaths mingling as you pushed each other closer and closer to the edge. The friction, the closeness, the way every part of him seemed to align perfectly with you—it was all-consuming. Every thrust, every moan, every whispered word of encouragement sent you both spiralling higher, the world around you blurring until there was only him, only this.

And as he continued to push harder and faster, you cried out as your climax hit, your body arching against his as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Your walls clenched tightly around him again, and the sensation pulled him into his own release. His name escaped your lips in a breathless whisper just as his hips jerked, his own groan filling the room as he buried himself deep inside you, spilling into you as his body trembled with the intensity of it all.

For a moment, neither of you moved, your bodies still locked together, trembling from the aftershocks. William lowered himself carefully, his weight warm and grounding as he pressed a series of soft kisses to your shoulder, then your collarbone, before finally burying his face in the crook of your neck.

His arms wrapped around you protectively, pulling you close as his breathing began to slow, his lips brushing against your skin as he murmured, “You’re amazing.”

You smiled, your fingers tracing lazy patterns along the muscles of his back. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased softly, though your voice was still thick with affection.

He chuckled, the sound low and content as he shifted just enough to meet your eyes. His blue gaze was softer now, filled with something deeper than lust—a warmth and adoration that made your heart swell.

As the two of you lay tangled together on the sofa, the flickering light of the Christmas tree casting a warm glow over your bodies, you couldn’t help but feel like this was the perfect gift. Nothing else in the world mattered at that moment except the man holding you as if you were his entire world.

#18+ smut #sexy christmas #william nylander smut #william nylander imagine #william nylander x reader #william nylander fanfic #toronto maple leafs fanfic #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl hockey fic #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines #hockey romance #wn88 imagine

101 notes · View notes

finelinepie · 8 months ago

Text

"On The Field"

*This is not my photo, but I couldn't find the original poster to credit them.🥺(but thank you to whoever made this)*

THIS SERIES WILL HAVE LONGER PARTS, BUT THIS FIRST PART IS MOSTLY AN INTRODUCTION❤️

*I want this to be a short series, but I am not sure if this is even something people would like?? Please let me know how you like it, or don't like it.. I NEED THE FEED BACK*

Footballrry / reader

Plot: Dating the football star is not what you pictured happening your sophomore year of college, but its happening, and you have to keep calm... how does one keep calm when he looks like..that??

Word Count: 1K and some change

Warnings: none yet, just the smirk we all dream about and a little bit of fluff.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Being in a football stadium is not how I thought my winter break would go. I thought for sure it would be spent with my friends on some extravagant vacation somewhere warm or maybe even going home to my family. It is so weird how things worked out this year. My friends went home to their families, and my parents wanted to spend their first vacation alone now that both of their kids are off at college and they are empty nesters. I found myself staring at the field and studying how the players moved about. The one thing I am most grateful for is the fact that I am currently sitting in a box chair in the warmth. The stadium box was a luxurious escape from the frigid winter air outside, with plush seats, a stocked minibar, and a perfect view of the field below. I don't care how many heat lamps are facing the field right now, I won’t be caught dead down there. The biting cold was relentless, and I could see the players’ breath forming clouds as they huddled and ran their drills.

With my textbook in my lap, I continued to multitask studying and watching the boys on Lambeau Field. My..actually, I don’t know what to call him.. we have yet to label anything. He was running around like a chicken with his head cut off, while his coach chased him, teammates laughing at the scene. I smiled softly and giggled, in total awe of his childlike nature. Shaking my head, I looked back down and continued taking notes. This class is kicking my ass, and I do not want to have to retake it. College is a bitch, and I don't want to stay any longer than I have to.

My thought process was interrupted by the club door opening. Turning my head to see who it was, I smiled and closed my book. “Hey, babe.” My best friend, Isla, said cheerfully, sitting down next to me.

“Hey, what are you still doing here? I thought you were going home this year?” I recalled. She sighed and looked down at the boys still practicing on the field.

“I am, but I just wanted to look at your dreamboat before I left.” She taunted.

I rolled my eyes before throwing my head back in a cackle. “He is not my dreamboat.” I could feel my cheeks heat up. My blush only deepened when I heard a quiet ‘Yet’ escape her mouth.

She cleared her throat before she continued. “All joking aside, I just came to say bye, and because I know you guys are in the puppy phase, you would be here pretending to study but actually staring at him the whole time.” She winked. “I love you, stay safe, I will see you in two weeks. And remember!” She chirped while standing back up. “Don’t be silly, wrap his willy!” She screamed. I swatted her thigh while she howled in laughter.

I chuckled, shaking my head as Isla made her way out of the box. Turning my attention back to the field, I noticed my favorite boy glancing up at the stands. For a brief moment, our eyes met, his lips lifting to the side to smirk and my heart skipped a beat. I quickly looked away, feeling a mix of embarrassment and excitement.

As I tried to refocus on my textbook, my mind kept drifting back to him. The way he moved with such confidence and energy was captivating. Despite the cold outside, the warmth of the box and the sight of him made everything feel a little bit brighter.

As practice wrapped up, the players began to filter off the field. The star player jogged toward the sidelines, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat from his face. He glanced up at the boxed seats, his eyes scanning the seats, pretending not to see where I am, until they landed on me. A smile spread across his face, and he gave a small wave. My heart skipped a beat, and I felt my cheeks flush again. I waved back, feeling a flutter of excitement.

A few minutes later, he appeared at the door of the club box, still dressed in his practice gear. Harry leaned against the doorframe, looking effortlessly handsome. "Hey, stranger," he said with a grin. "Mind if I join you?" His green eyes shining bright against his flushed face.

I gestured to the seat next to me, trying to play it cool. "Sure, come on in. How was practice?" I am going to throw up.

His large body plopped beside me and I instantly got hints of musky vanilla. His presence immediately made the room feel warmer. "It was good, just the usual drills and stuff. Coach is really pushing us hard, but it's worth it." He glanced at my textbook. Wrapping his arm around me he spoke once more, "What about you? Studying during break—you're dedicated."

I sighed, closing the book again. "Yeah, trying to keep up with this class. It's a killer."

He nodded, his expression serious. "If you need any help, just let me know. I was pretty good at that class last semester."

I smiled, grateful for the offer. "Thank you, I might take you up on that."

For the next hour, we talked about everything and nothing, the conversation flowing easily. Harry had a way of making me feel comfortable, even when I was a nervous wreck inside. As we chatted, I couldn't help but think about how unexpected this winter break had turned out to be. It wasn't the vacation I had planned, but sitting here with him, it felt like it might turn out to be even better.

Eventually, Harry stood up, stretching. "I should probably hit the showers. But seriously, if you need help with that class, just text me."

I nodded, standing up as well. "I will. Thanks for the offer, H."

He smiled, that same infectious grin that had captivated me from the start. "Anytime. See you tonight, alright?" He leaned down to kiss my forehead and then my lips softly before making his way out the door.

As he walked out of the club box, I felt a warmth in my chest. Maybe this winter break wouldn't be so bad after all.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

#harry edward styles #harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #footballrryxyou #harry x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles series #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles boyfriend #football harry styles x you #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction

134 notes · View notes

pathetickuroo · 5 months ago

Text

fukutora hcs bc theyre funny

- fukunaga shohei #1 lover of badddd bad bad bad movies. terrible films. not good. we're talking sharknado snakes on a plane willys wonderland velocipastor that one thanksgiving slasher film that i cant remember the name of rn (dont think abt the mechanics of it being a thanksgiving movie too hard). generally not a movie enjoyer i think but most certainly clocking in for shit that is Not Good

- tora is baffled every time but definitely not opposed to it (this guy loves cuddling on the couch i think he hits the fake yawn arm around shoulders maneuver like. regularlyyyy and fukunaga doesnt even pretend to think its silly anymore)

- "shohei this movie doesnt even make any sense" "🤷"

- tora the hugger from behind of All Time he is finding any possible excuse. "u look cold" or "makin up for lost time" or "i have practice in an hour plsss plssssss just let me have this PLSSSSSSS" (he uses that one in particular a lot) (fukunaga wouldnt have said no in the first place) (he thinks its cute so he doesnt say anything abt it)

- repressed-as-hell hs tora did not quiteee know what to do w whatever tf he had goin on so he didnt get the guts (ha) to say anything until a couple years after graduation (which he then said over text bc yokohama -> tokyo = long distance)

- fukunaga conveys thoughts in as few words as possible (which is fucking awesome btw if fukunaga has no fans it means ive died) BUT in order to preserve the meaning it sometimes takes a second to respond

- tora did Not have a good time attempting to navigate this when he was trying to confess

- bro immediately started freaking out to yaku "DUDE WHY DID I DO THAT THAT WAS SO STUPID" "omfg its fukunaga give him a second. impatient ass" "I THINK IM DYING" "jfc"

- meanwhile in tokyo fukunaga was staring at "i rly like u dude" trying to figure out if tora meant like (homie) or like (w/gay intent)

- fukunaga only ever calls tora by his full government given name when he is Displeased. tora used the pan he needed for dinner tn so now he has to wash it? taketora. tora rearranges his living room w no warning? taketora. doesnt even say it in a mean/angry tone or anything j matter of fact as all hell. honestly i think if fukunaga was ever genuinely angry abt smth hell would probably freeze over

- tora does get extremely pouty abt it tho. "shoheiii what did i do :(" "the pan" ".......OH FUC—"

- when tora first moved to yokohama he got a cat bc of course he did he graduated from nekoma. tf else was he supposed to do, get a dog? (maybe in the future)

- very very fluffy very cute very sweet tuxedo girl. her name is "destroyer" (yes really) he calls her badass on the reg and she is sooo cuddly w him. fukunaga finds all of this extremely funny

- in fact when fukunaga starts visiting suddenly destroyer doesnt gaf abt tora anymore. worse than pain of death in his opinion it is So Not Fair. first thing fukunaga does after he meets the cat is send a pic to the old nekoma gc "top 10 cats that like me more than they like their owners" tora throws a pillow at him "i RAISED her from a BABY" "did u rly" ".....NO BUT IT AINT RIGHT"

- after theyve been together a few months toras thinkin abt how fukunaga used to Never Talk Ever and he makes a joke "ha i guess i learned how to speak BODY language am i right. right shohei. thats funny right"

- fukunaga calls him taketora for a week. tora retires that joke permanently and they never speak of it again

- tora morning person fukunaga not-exactly-a-night-owl-but-doesnt-love-being-awake-at-5:30 person. one time fukunagas in yokohama for the weekend he wakes up at 6 annoyed as hell (tora got up at 5 and left for a run) bc wtf his pillow literally got up and walked away. falls back asleep wakes up again at 10 tora made not only coffee but pancakes too AND heated them up for him hes immediately like ok nvm this is fine actually no complaints (<- still gets annoyed when his human teddy bear ditches him)

- TORA BABE SAYER. hey babe thanks babe i missed u babe. but it took him foreverrrrrr (forever) to get comfortable actually saying it instead of thinkin inside so there was also (and still is) a lot of dude (romantic) bro (romantic) man (romantic).

- fukunaga doesnt like saying pet names or anything (but to be fair does he like saying ANYTHING most of the time) but does not mind being called them at all (that's a lie he thinks it's awesome and so so so sweet but when tora asks if it's okay he says he doesn't mind)

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#nekoma #yamamoto taketora #fukunaga shouhei #fukunaga shohei #fukutora #torafuku #not sure what their tag is. hm #hq #hq!!#a bonkutoe classic #love fktr find em whimsical :)#can i talk my shit. how are this and kaiyaku so underrated bro WHAT!!!!

73 notes · View notes

johnwickb1tsch · 6 months ago

Text

andar conmigo ~ part 14

gif by omg-imagine

A Walk in the Clouds/Don John crossover outline/fic- Paul Sutton x fem!Reader x Don John triangle ~ You grow up at Las Nubes vineyard, and have to go home to your dying father. You take your fake new husband, Sgt Paul Sutton, with you...Your old flame don John does not like this at all. Warnings: violence, fire! chapter map

After Juan’s goons drag you away, it is Anjélica who slips from the chaos and entreats every man she finds at the fiesta wearing a uniform to come to Paul’s aid. By the time she is done the Sheriff has a mob of angry vets outside his jail, demanding the soldier’s release.

Don Juan’s money was good, but it didn’t seem worth getting lynched over.

When Paul roars up to Las Nubes in a Willy’s Jeep filled to bursting with fellow veterans, night has fallen, and the flames have just begun to lick out of don Juan’s bedroom window. The few workers who remained home from the fiesta are frantically shouting and passing buckets of water, fighting like hell to keep the rest of the buildings and the fields from burning.

The house is already a lost cause.

There is a rumble of thunder in the distance, a late summer storm too far, too late.

Paul leaps from the Jeep before it has even stopped, running for the house. He knows you are in there, and that you need him.

Some of Juan’s toughs emerge to meet the Jeep filled with interlopers, and Paul’s brothers in arms surge to meet them head on.

Paul bursts into the house, rushing down the hall on long legs, towards the flames.

Don Juan’s bedroom door is locked. Paul throws himself at it. It takes one, two, three tries before the heavy old wood gives. The burst of heat from the room sends him back a step, before he charges inside.

His heart falls as he sees you laying there on the floor, crumpled and bloody as a flower crushed under foot, and for a heartbreaking moment he is certain you are dead.

“Y/n?” he pleads, diving to his knees beside you, gathering you in his arms.

He’s never been so relieved in his life, as when you stir in his grasp, your question of “Paul?” barely audible over the roar of the flames.

“I’m getting you out of here.” He adjusts his hold so he can carry you out–and you see the ominous shadow in the doorway. Juan has returned, and he is holding an ornate saber that has been hanging in the hallway for longer than the two of you have been alive combined.

“Paul–look out!” You try to warn him, but your voice is so weak. Maybe he sees the fear in your eyes, for he ducks just in time for the blade to slice just over his head.

“You’re just in time for the barbecue!” hisses Juan, slashing again.

Paul tries to evade, but doesn’t quite. The blade clips his arm, blood spurting. Though enraged, Juan is no swordsman. Before he can swing the heavy sword around to strike again Paul tackles him to the floor, wrestling for the blade.

An old, familiar fury fills Paul, that consuming savagery from his war days slipped from its cage, and he wants to tear this horrible man to pieces with his bare hands for what he’s done to you.

They fight viciously, rolling, cursing, hitting and biting.

“You dishonored my house!” snarls Juan. “I will kill you both!”

The heat from the fire is scalding. You feel as though your skin will melt right from your bones, and you try to roll away from the growing flames.

In the end Paul is victorious, pounding Juan’s hand on the floor until he must let go. The soldier throws away the fancy sword into the flames on the far wall. The room is a furnace now, and the fire is spreading out the window, up the house. You all need to go now, but Juan still will not quit, rendered mad by the desire for vengeance.

Desperate to get to you, Paul punches Juan in the jaw, hard enough to knock him out cold.

“Paul?” you cry out, coughing on smoke.

The decision is easy for him, to leave Juan behind to the flames, when he scoops you up and barrels into the hallway to make your escape from the burning house. As he passes through the door part of the grand old hacienda collapses behind him.

He carries you away from the blaze as far as he can before his legs give out beneath him. “Y/n?” He cradles your head in his hands,desperate for you to answer him. Tears make sooty tracks down his cheeks. You both look like you rolled in a coal bin.

“Paul?” Your eyes open to slits, and you cough violently.

Are you alive?

For a moment you’re certain that if Paul is here before you–you’ve died, and this is your version of heaven.

“Thank God,” he sobs, clutching you to him.

Maybe you’re not dead.

How marvelous it is, to breathe fresh air, and be cradled in this man’s strong arms again.

Maybe you should start going to church again, because when the heavens open up and the rain falls down, it feels like a special blessing from above. You sit like that in Paul’s arms for you don’t know how long, soaking wet but warmed by his body sheltering yours.

“I thought I lost you. Jesus Christ, I thought he’d killed you.” Paul’s words are a low litany in your hair.

“I’m fine now,” you assure him, your voice rough from smoke inhalation.

You absolutely are not fine, but you’re alive, and right now, that’s something.

Even better, in your eyes, Paul is alive, and that’s the greatest miracle of all.

You tilt your head in question, and without a word Paul answers with his lips on yours, a life-giving kiss that soothes the inferno in your soul as surely as the rain outside.

You sit together in a sodden pile, watching the house burn, before the rain starts to damper the flames. Too late for don Juan, you both are certain. On whose head lays the blame? Yours, for starting the fire? Paul’s, for leaving him? Or Juan’s himself, for being the man he was?

You are too numb to suss it out, and Paul gingerly loads you into the Jeep to take you to the doctor in town, certain you both have worn out your welcome at Las Nubes.

*divider by animatedglittergraphics

#paul sutton #paul sutton x reader #a walk in the clouds #paul sutton x you #paul sutton x y/n #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanuverse #keanuverse fic #andar conmigo paul sutton fic #don john x reader #don john #don john x you

55 notes · View notes

lifesteal-headcanons · 1 month ago

Note

Coming back in with the omegaverse stuff,,,,,

Clown's scent is surprisingly sharp and strong for an Omega — even when people know and understand that people are, well, people and that you can't really neatly categorize humans, people still have biases and Clown's scent is a surprise contrast to the stereotypical idea of an Omega; where it is thought Omegas are soft and sweet, their scents following suit, Clown's is sharp and strong — maybe the smell of metal and gunpowder, something that can't be simply tolerated on a first sniff. You either love it or hate it — typically, people love it only when they know Clown intimately (Kaboodle, Branzy), otherwise people find it hard to breathe in. When he's angry the scent takes on a smokey note that makes people always subconsciously think a bomb is about to detonate when they're around him, and when he's happy it takes on a chocolate undertone that's hard to discern from the main components (the stronger the emotion the more the scent is released, the stronger it becomes, the more it overpowers subtle notes) yet Branzy can discern it very easily; Kaboodle has a harder time with it. No one else can really smell the chocolate undertone.

Branzy smells like redstone and gunpowder, but that's more bc of his engineer job than his scent — whenever he changes clothes and showers and cleans his job off of himself, Branzy actually smells kinda nice: like ocean spray, a day on the beach with a good Smirnoff on hand as you have a bonfire and build sand castles with friends. When he's angry there's a distinct smell of burnt trash that overpowers the ocean spray through disgust alone even though the note itself is weak (CLEAN THE OCEANS PEOPLE . /lh), yet when he's happy his scent takes on a caramel undertone; Branzy's and Clown's scents mixed up get ambivalent opinions, as ocean spray and metal/gunpowder sounds weird and nasty, but the chocolate/caramel of their inevitable happiness is quite nice to have around — when they're mixed, Clown's chocolate undertone is much more evident because of Branzy's caramel notes bringing it out better

Kaboodle smells like carrots and apples which is really dumb and cute idk. When she's angry she gains this onion undertone, to the point where if pissed off enough her scent can actually make people fucking cry, which is the ultimate little sister weapon to ever exist; when she's happy, though, she has a chocolate (see? easter bunny type beat?? Ayyy) undertone — kinda like Clown! Cute!!

Zam probably smells like flowers of some kind — I wanna say it'd be like. idk. aloes and asters??? OH OH OH AND CHAMOMILES mmm chamomile tea scent for Zam,,,, nice also idk bro I'm going off the flower meanings and not the scents. idk the scents of flowers bro,,,,,, when he's angry he smells like begonias and belledonas as well, and when he's happy he smells of hollys and hollyhocks; only Mapicc recognizes the subtle differences between each flower's scent and what each one means, as Zam taught him all of this at some point. Derap really wants to know but Zam doesn't feel like telling him ngl — it feels like something too intimate to simply share with others willy nilly, and besides he low-key likes it to be a kinda secret between him and Mapicc, that no one else knows the meaning of it...... Devotions save me, save me Devotions,,,,,,,,,

Mapicc's scent is really subdued bc 1) Beta and 2) he gives me blazeborn vibes and netherborns typically don't benefit much from scents bc of the overpowering heat and smell of lava in the nether. so; he does have a scent though — bc I'm sick over Devotions Duo I'm gonna say he ALSO smells like flowers: hollyhocks and gladioluses and chives. When he's angry he smells like gunpowder and metal, kinda like Clown; when he's happy though he simply smells like the sizzle of meat cooking in a pan, with all the aromatic spices wafting through the air — honestly Zam always feels low-key hungry when he cuddles with Mapicc due to this,,,,,,,

Derapchu has a surprisingly soft scent considering he's an Alpha — just like with Clown, he beats the stereotypes when it comes to his scent: petrichor or however you spell it and cut grass. When he's angry he smells like rotten wood and stagnant water, yet when he's happy he smells like rainy days and marshmallows bc why the hell not

Squiddo either has no scent or has a reeeallyyyyy faint scent, there's no in between — I'm unsure what this scent would be though.... thoughts?

ash's scent is strong and overpowering in impression alone — as in, it's one of those smells that kind of haunts you forever, and no matter what you do you can't forget it; it surely raises his ego to have a scent like that 🙄 /aff but I'm not really sure what that could be.... I low-key wanna say gasoline bc I like how it smells and having ash smell like gasoline sounds hilarious to me idk why — when he's angry he smells like smoke honestly, like a forest fire just spawned right beneath your nose and it becomes inescapable; a thing with Alphas and their scents is that when they're angry or going through their rut their scents are so overpowering and hard to get rid of from like, clothes and stuff — a scentmark is ALSO hard to get rid of bc of this, so when ash is angry and you're in like idk a surprisingly far yet still technically closeby distance to ash you WILL know he's angry. When he's happy, though, he smells like grapes bc I've run out of good scents to give these bitches and I think giving the embodiment of "fuck it we ball" grapes as a smell is kinda funny

Reddoons smells like cigar smoke and whiskey bc he's THE. EMBODIMENT of cishet rich boy swag in THE MEANEST. MOST AGGRESSIVE way imaginable even though he's said some reeeallyy sussy shit before; also, Alpha stereotype + that'd go great with ash's scent in the way people say that two characters get along like a house on fire affectionately. When he's angry he smells like burnt paper and burnt flesh bc I fucking say so, make that wet paper bag of a rich boy into a scary bitch whenever he's angry . When he's happy he smells like... honey! Surprisingly enough; perfectly mixes with ash's scent even tho both say to ABHOR the others' (they don't. they're just in a RIDICULOUSLY dramatic enemies to lovers 500k word min slowburn)

Jumper I think would smell like strawberries bc I fucking said so and also bc I just think it'd be cute :3 — when she's angry she smells like putrid and rotten fruits and kinda like Kaboodle, if angry enough her scent can and will make people cry. When she's happy she smells kinda like candied apples bc why the fuck not. let's get some whimsy up in this bitch going /silly

Minute has me stumped, but I think him smelling like coals and damp cave systems is kinda funny, so I'll probs go with that — when he's angry he smells like campfire smoke faintly enough that it is very easy to ignore (for some reason he gives me "silently angry" vibes??? idk I don't watch him) and when he's happy he smells like cider bc I want more whimsy going on in this place 👍👍👍

I also low-key think their scents would fluctuate slightly depending on who they're scenting/scentmarking with — for example, Zam smells low-key like edelweiss and heliotrope with Mapicc, yet smells like lilacs and marjorams with Derapchu, etc etc I'll come back to ramble bible-sized stuff at ur inbox whenever I decide to sit down and play with this part of omegaverse!LifeSteal,,,,,,,,,,,

so yea. omegaverse my beloved nobody could make me hate u,,,,,,

#ask #headcanon #lifesteal smp #omegaverse

25 notes · View notes

queenmuzz · 1 month ago

Text

A Chain Unbroken Chapter I

A link in the chain.

Read it HERE on Ao3

It’s winter time, and Emmrich wants to go out, wants to skate the frozen river, he wants to go out to play with friends. Twilight is fast approaching, but he doesn’t care. He’s eight years old, he doesn’t need his mother to go with him anymore, he’s a big boy, the dark doesn’t scare him anymore.

But he’s also a dutiful son, the only child of the Volkarin household, so when his mother tells him that he can only go out after supper, and that supper takes place only after his father returns home, he bites his tongue and completes his chores. Tend the fire, and set the table. The latter he does eagerly, the sooner his father could sit down to eat, the sooner he could go out. Hopefully his friends wouldn’t have wandered off in boredom, leaving him alone. He hated being left alone.

The former chore, keeping the hearth alight, was much less fun. It was the only thing that kept their creaky, drafty tenement house warm, but he had it drilled into him that he couldn’t just dump wood into it willy nilly, fuel was hard to come by, especially in the depths of winter. He had come to realize at an early age that his family could not afford simple things that others could. Yes, his belly was always full, and he would never lack for clothing, but he had noticed that his parents were thin, their clothing was patched and shabby. But they were happy together, with their matching set of wedding rings, the way they both told him he was destined for great things, and he could never deny that they loved him more than anything in the world.

And that’s why he did his best to use the least amount of fuel to keep the fire burning. He might not be able to bring in money, like his mother cooking, but he could help by saving a copper or two.

The door opened, bringing a gust of cold air as the tall lanky figure of Rupert Volkarin came in.

“Father!” He throws himself at the man who laughs, catches him and spins him around.

“How’s my little Emmi doin’?” He sets him down with an exaggerated groan. “Not so little now either, eh?”

“My name is Emmrich!” He pouts even as he still clings to him like a toddler. Unlike other nevarran children, he has no repulsion of the scent that permeates the man’s clothing. Yes, had heard enough from the older kids at school, the insults about his father’s profession. He really didn’t care. Sure, his father was a butcher, but that didn’t make him any worse than any father. He was just doing what he had to survive. He remembers seeing a Dalish Caravan passing through the countryside, and the way they revered the forest and trees, and yet they chopped down trees when need called for it.

“Well ‘Emmrich’,” his mother’s stern, yet loving voice comes from behind. Your father is tired, and probably wants to clean up before supper. Would you be a dear, and heat up some water in the kettle? Enough for the wash basin and to steep the tea?”

He nods as he runs over to the fireplace and shoves another log into the hearth, stoking the flames. His father walks over and embraces his mother, sweeping her in a tender kiss as they make their way up the narrow rickety stairs. He smiles at how much they adore each other. Some of his friends’ parents can’t seem to stand each other. Not his. They were so deeply in love, despite their humble situation. When he grows up, he’s going to find his special person. No matter what it takes.

He lugs the water to fill the kettle. It’s going to take a long time to heat it all up, and it’ll use up a lot of wood.

Emmrich thinks hard. He wants to go out with friends before bedtime, and he doesn’t want to use the precious fuel that his father and mother work so hard to afford. What if there was a way to…

His arm tingles, and he reaches towards the fire. He’s had dreams like this, urges to unlock something within him. That he could tap into the energies of his dreams, bring them to this world and create flames without using wood. He closes his eyes and tries to replicate the action he’s done while he slumbered.

Three things happen: An explosion of hot air, so powerful that it knocks him back across the room, into the wall.

The creak of the ceiling beam, always noisy on windy days, begins to shriek and crack..

And most alarming of all, a figure, cloaked and masked has suddenly appeared out of nowhere. The only distinguishing feature is piercing grey eyes that are locked on him.

The beam above him screams as it wrenches from its support and begins to plummet. He tries to shield himself with his arms, knowing that it will be in vain. He closes his eyes, waiting for the inevitable pain.

It never comes. Instead, he hears a grunt. He cracks his eyes open to see that figure standing over him, straining to hold the beam.

It’s hard to make out their features, aside from those grey, almost silver eyes.

“Emmrich…” their voice grunts out, clearly tiring from the effort. “The fire…put it out… it’s gonna spread.” Already flames are licking a fallen piece of plaster on the floor. He scrambles and takes the kettle of water and dumps the contents on the flames, smothering them and coating the room in darkness. Above the hiss of steam he hears the screams and protests of wood and masonry, the smash of pottery and glass. The world is literally crashing down upon him, and there is nothing he can do about it…he’s gonna die here.

He hears an anguished roar, and then arms grab him out in the darkness. More things fall as he feels himself rolling across the tilted floor. He’s reminded of the time when he got in a fight with one of the older kids at school, which led to them tumbling down a hill. Except instead of exchanging punches, this stranger holds tightly, shielding him from the impact of falling wood, plaster and brick. The sounds are terrifying to him, it’s like the world is about to end. But the mysterious stranger holds him tightly, shielding him from the worst of it.

After what seems like forever, the roar dies down to nothing, save for the pounding of his heart, and his laboured breathing. Two sets of laboured breathing.

“You alright?” There’s a voice on his right, and he turns to look, but sees nothing.

‘Oh yeah, you can’t see in the dark like me…not yet at least. One moment.” He hears the rustle of cloth, and then a snap, similar to the sound of an ember popping. A sudden blast of soft blue light illuminates the area. It takes him a few seconds to look around. They’ve managed to roll under the kitchen table, which is propped up against the wall like a tent. It gives him just enough space to move his limbs to let the blood flow moving, but little else. And there’s the other person, this mysterious cloaked figure, their eyes reflecting silver blue.

“You alright, Emmrich?”

Their voice is soft, and even through a whisper he can tell that she’s a woman, probably as old as his mother. Maybe one of her friends? But he’s never heard that voice before, even as he’s served tea when her neighbors come over to gossip. It’s hard and unyielding, but not unkind. It reminds him of his Uncle Bernard, a traveling mercenary, a voice that has seen much action.

“Fine.” He admits. Right now his heart is pounding heavily, thrumming so much blood that it still sounds like his house is collapsing around him. But she doesn’t need to know how utterly terrified he is. He’s eight years old, he’s brave and strong. He needs to distract himself.

“Who are you?”

She stills, then her eyes look to the side.

“You can call me… Rook”

“How do you know my name? I don’t remember meeting someone like you.”

She shifts uncomfortably, and those eyes dart away momentarily before returning to him. “I heard your mother call your name, something about heating up tea water.”

The thought of his mother suddenly makes him remember his parents. They’re upstairs, most likely in the bedroom. His mother is probably folding the fresh laundry, checking to see what clothes need mending, chiding his father for getting a particularly hard to clean stain out on his best shirt. He’d probably laugh and give her a kiss, and they’d forget all about the stains.

Surely they would have felt the floor collapse, and come out running… unless, the roof followed the floor and they were cru-

No, he thinks, they are searching for him right now. They wouldn’t let me stay here in the dark.

“Father?” He calls out into the dimly lit space. Nothing. “Mother?” The only response is the distant trickle of masonry.

What if they are hurt? He needs to go to them. He needs to help them. He’s not sure what he can do, but he needs to find them.

“Emmrich…” Rook's voice is soft and sad, and he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like what it implies. He feels a surge of panic flow through him.

“I NEED TO FIND THEM! I NEED TO SEE THEM!” He moves quickly, kicking at the table above them, using all his weight to try to push the table up, to heave it so he can dig his way up and out. It was twilight when the collapse, there might still be light, the green veilfire lamps would just start being lit. He would be able to navigate his way to find his parents.

“Emmrich, no… stop!” Rook tries to force him back down, but he’s full of adrenaline. He won’t let this weirdo cloaked figure stop him from finding his parents. That same prickling feeling that he felt before flows down his arm. If he willed it, he could blast that table to smithereens, he knows it.

Suddenly, something shifts and the table comes down, carrying the weight of the house on it. Faster than he would ever expect, Rook rolls over to shield him, not that it would save him, he knows. They’ll both be killed by the collapse. For a brief moment, a terror fills him.

He doesn’t want to die.

A spark lights up, a green flash lights up the area, even overpowering the blue, and the collapse stops, mere inches from Rook's back, held up by a green bubble. He gasps, both in surprise, and then in exertion as it takes all his dwindling reserves of energy to keep the bubble up. He knows that it’s the only thing keeping him from getting crushed to death.

Rook, to her credit, wastes no time, and rolls off of him, finding anything, wood, brick, stone. Anything that will prop up the table, as he gasps and sweats at the effort.

“I think… I think you can let go now…” her voice is ragged, and he’s not sure what she means, but it doesn’t matter, whatever energy he had is sapped, and the last thing he remembers is her silver eyes shifting from reflecting green to blue before everything goes dark.

He wakes up groggy, like a nap cut short. Which is odd, he HATES naps. Naps are for little kids. But this… this feels comfy. He’s surrounded by a warm fluffy blanket that smells odd. He keeps his eyes closed, hoping that he’ll drift back to sleep.

Then he hears a voice, soft and gentle, speaking, her voice murmuring something as if it was a recitation.

“Let them be found worthy to pass through the veil,

Let them go into the Fade, hand in hand,

Free of trouble.

Free of pain

And let their memory endure in those that yet live”

It sounds solemn, and sad… he’s heard it before, but he can’t remember where exactly where or when.

He opens his eyes, expecting to see the wooden beams of his small bedroom ceiling, but instead, he sees, mere inches from his head, an unfamiliar wooden panel lit not by the warm light of the rising sun, nor of the green veilfire of the lamp outside his window. This is blue. He’s confused, and then feels the blanket moves on its own, a sharp intake of breath.

The past rushes back towards him, and his heart races.

“How long?” he croaks, his throat feels scratchy and dry, like cracked plaster.

“You’ve been asleep for probably a good six or so hours,” Rook’s voice explains as she pulls away from him. Was she holding him as he slept? He feels the chill seep into his bones almost immediately, and he longs for her to hold him again. It’s oddly comforting, considering he doesn’t know her at all.

“My parents-” he tries to talk, but he can’t, his throat feels so dry, he coughs, and Rook rustles around something in her cloak, and pulls out a squarish thing.

The sound of a lid being unscrewed, and her voice, equally raspy, orders him, “Take a sip. But only a small sip.”

He obeys, and feels some liquid that drips down his throat. It burns, causing him to cough, but there's a comforting hand on his shoulder, and her silver blue eyes regard him sympathetically. “Sorry, it’s just Anderfel Brandy. Not really the stuff a kid should be drinking, but it should be enough to wet your lips.” She’s right, that after the scorching heat burns his throat, it feels better, like a freshly plowed field that has the first shoots of wheat popping out.

“My parents,” he repeats, and she freezes just as she’s about to take a sip, “They haven’t come for me yet?”

She decides to forgo taking a swig, and screws the top before placing it in her cloak. “Emmrich…” she takes a soft intake of breath, before she looks him in the eye. “Your parents aren’t coming.”

That makes no sense, his parents would never abandon him. Surely his father is going through the ruins of their hours, screaming his name as he pulls the building apart brick by brick. His mother would be pushing aside old furniture, working her fingers bloody to scrabble her way to him. Unless… what Rook means is… no… she couldn’t mean that?

“You could find them!” he says hopefully, before clarifying, “You’re strong, I saw you hold up that beam! You can dig your way out of here! You can find them! You can…”

Rook's eyes look sad, and shakes her head. “I can’t…” Her voice is a strangled whisper. “Even if I was strong enough to move mountains, there’s no way I could bring them back…”

The way she says it, he can read between the lines. And the chill that was settling in now freezes the marrow in his bones.

“No…” he gives out a strangled denial, “they can’t be… can’t be…” the word goes unsaid, but it echoes in the air, bouncing off the bricks, the wood, the shattered pottery, the scattered knives his father uses as part of his despised profession.

Dead

He can’t breathe. His heart is beating so fast it feels like it's going to burst. His fingers are beginning to go numb, and he’s not sure if it's because of the cold. His parents are gone, beyond the reach of anyone, and he’s stuck here, in this cramped area with some stranger he can’t even see the face of, with his parents above him, their bodies crushed to…

“I can’t- I can’t-” he tries to tell Rook, but what air leaves his lungs is not replaced, and his whole body is now numb and cold. Maybe he’s dead already. Maybe he’s been squashed like a tomato by the house, and he doesn’t know it yet.

Maybe Rook is the Guide that Nevarrans talk about, the one who guides souls across the Veil, into the Fade. They’re supposed to be a cloaked masked figure that often travels on a black horse. It’s supposed to be comforting, to know in your final moments, you’re not alone. But to Emmrich, it's terrifying. He doesn’t want his parents to die. He doesn’t want to die. Not here, in the dark and the cramped space.

He doesn’t want to know that he did something that killed them all…

“Emmrich,” Rook's voice intrudes into his spiraling thoughts, and he feels warmth on his shoulder. “May I hold you…?” He nods numbly, and he feels warmth and feeling seep back into his body as she pulls him towards her, an embrace that is comforting and oddly familiar. It’s not the tight strong hugs his father gives him, or the soft encompassing hugs his mother gives, but he swears he’s felt it before… or maybe he WILL feel it. Which makes no sense. How can he know a sensation he won’t experience until the future? The weirdness of it all partially breaks the spiral of panic he’s been stuck in, and he’s able to take a gasping breath.

“Breathe with me,” she tells him, and he complies. “One breath in… hold it in…3…2…1, let it out. Breathe in again… hold… 3…2…1, let it out…”

They complete the cycle a dozen or so times, each one becoming easier. He can feel her heartbeat reverberating on his chest, fast but steady, and his heartbeat begins to match hers. He can’t help but clutch her cloak, and he feels something hard and cold in the fabric.

“Ah…she says,” and pulls away for a brief moment, after she thinks he’s calmer, and he hears a metallic ‘ clink’ . She shows what he found.

It’s a beautiful golden brooch. The shape of a grinning skull, with gems in its eyes that match Rook’s eye colour exactly. He’s entranced by it, the coolness of the metal that quickly warms at his touch, the sparkle that sends out out dazzling sparks of blue silver into the little cramped space, and for a brief moment, he thinks he’s laying out with his father on the roof of his home one summer night, looking up at the stars.

“You know,” Rook says as he plays with it. “It’s brought me great comfort when I was in trouble, just holding it kept me calm. Maybe…” she says with some effort, “maybe it’s time it helped you.”

His head snaps up. Surely she can’t be serious. He might not know much about how money works, but this brooch would probably cost more than his father earned in a year! And she just wants to give it to him?

“No..I can’t…” he tries to shove it back to her, but she is insistent.

“Keep it, Emmrich…Please” Her voice is sad, and so desperate, that he feels compelled. And as he nods at her, her eyes seem to sparkle like the gems in the skull.

Suddenly, there’s a pop, and the blue light goes out, the twinkling stars vanishing with it. A great cold darkness sweeps in.

He hears her mutter something, possibly a swear word as she seems pats down a pouch at her waist. “Spirits consume me! I don’t have any more Lyrium tablets…”

He can’t see anything now, and that panic that lay slumbering roars back to the surface. He’s going to die here, forgotten and alone. This place will be a tomb for him and his family. There will be no one to remember him. No one to perform the rites to send him and his parents into the Fade. His breathing becomes ragged and his heart begins picking up speed. He feels cold and clammy. His hands become numb, save for his left palm, which clutches the skull, and as he feels the texture, he swears it exudes a warmth from within. He tries to focus on it, that as long as he can feel it, it means he’s still alive.

Breath in… hold it in…3…2…1… let it out…

He’s not sure if she’s telling him to do that, or if he’s doing it on his own. All he knows is that she holds him tightly, curling her body around him, enveloping him with her softness and warmth/

“You will live, Emmrich, I swear it…” she whispers in his ear, her oath as certain as if it was written in Nevarran granite. “You will do great things. You will face almost insurmountable hurdles, and you will clamber over them. It will be hard, but you won’t be alone, even when you feel like you are. And I…” she stops herself. He tries to look up at where she is, tries to make out those silver grey eyes, and for a brief moment, he swears he can see them.

‘And I… ‘ what did she want to say? Why couldn’t she say it?

“Would you like to hear a story?”

He’s far too old for stories, but right now, aside from her embrace and the little brooch, her voice is the only thing that keeps him from panicking. He nods, and despite it being pitch black, she somehow can see him, because she starts talking.

“So, there was this group of people that joined to save the world…”

He dozes in and out while she tells the story. It’s not that it’s a boring story, far from it. But her voice is so entrancing, it lulls him to sleep. He suspects that was her intention. Every minute he sleeps, he’s conserving energy, he’s not panicking, he’s a minute closer to rescue. But he remembers snatches. There’s dragons, and a hero who hunts them. (He’s Nevarran, he can’t help but be entranced by stories about dragons.) The hero also can breathe fire. (Okay, now the story is not true. Dragons might have been gone for a long time, but at least they existed). There’s an Antivan Crow, who is possessed by a spirit of Determination that’s been tormented until it changed its nature. (That’s just silly, only mages can be possessed, and almost all of them turn into monsters) There’s a brave grey warden with his Griffon, a dwarf who can cast magic (now he’s getting insulted about this story. Everyone knows Dwarves can’t use magic!) An elf that can make old machines move on their very own, and a brave woman from Tevinter that uses her magic to help slaves escape their cruel masters. He doesn’t really hear about what happens, but he seems to think there’s a hole in the story, characters that don’t get mentioned but play a very important part. He doesn’t mind. He feels safe and warm in her arms.

She’s talking about a dragon that attacks Treviso, when she stops suddenly.

“Listen!” She hisses, and his ears prick up at the sounds of thumps, and is that… voices? Yes! There’s voices, muffled, but they are distinct, at least three of them.

“HEY! DOWN HERE! HELP US!” he yells, and resists the urge to kick at the table. It would be very unfortunate for him to get crushed when help is so close.

For a moment, there is silence. He panics, maybe he scared them off. Maybe they’re looters that fled. And then the thumps and voices increase volume and speed. He can even make out a few phrases

“I’m tellin’ you Lukas, I swore I heard a voice!”

“You’re probably drunk again…there’s no way anybody would be alive for so long down here!”

“I’M HERE!” he screams at the top of his lungs, “I’M NOT DEAD!” Another spell of silence!

“Caspar’s Bones! That’s Rupert’s boy! Keep diggin’ lads! Lukas, get your old lady over here with some blankets, and some of her soup. We’ve got a live one!” The thumping continues, and he can make out the sounds of grunts as masonry is chucked.

And then the darkness is dispelled by a hole, the size of his fist lets in the early morning sunlight. He scrabbles out of Rook’s arms, and presses his face against the hole, breathing fresh cold air.

There’s a gasp from the two men pulling the rubble away, he recognizes them as a couple of his neighbors.

“Emmrich? You alright lad?”

“YES, I WANT TO GET OUT OF HERE!” He’s on the cusp of tears, but not panicking. After everything, he just wants out.

“Patience lad…” the older one of the two. “We dig any more, we’re liable to have this whole thing crashing down on you and I. Give us a bit to get more people to help. Don’t worry, we ain’t about to abandon you,” his face grows sombre, “I owe your parents that much, at least.” The man disappears and there’s silence for the moment.

Emmrich doesn’t quite get what he means, but he’s waited hours so far, he can wait a bit longer.

“Rook!” He turns around to see her, “You were right! We’re gonna get out of here! We’re gonna li-” There’s something off about her, she seems to be glowing… like sparkles from the gems in the skull are within her.

“You’re right. You’re going to live. You’re going to survive. But…” she looks at her gloved hand, which he swears is see through, like a sheer curtain. “You’re going to have to do it without me… Her eyes glitter, but not because they are gems, it looks like she’s about to cry. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to me… but knowing that you’re alive makes it worth it…” She pulls him in close, as if to give him a hug.

Impulse takes over, and he grabs her mask off, revealing her face. He needs to see what she looks like, even for just a moment. Maybe he’ll recognize her! She reacts by yanking back, her hood falling off from the sudden motion, and he gasps. It’s not a face he’s ever seen before. It’s pale and silver strands of hair frame it. She looks… beautiful. Like a princess from one of those fairytales where the chevalier fights a dragon. Except, in her tale, she’s the princess braving the flames to slay the beast. He takes in every feature, from the tiny scar above her left eyebrow, to the dimple in her cheek. The way her hair shimmers like moonlight. He’s going to remember every little bit of her, he’s going to treasure it. And if she disappears, he’s going to find her.

“Oh Emmrich…” she says and there’s something in her voice, a sense of love and longing that is different from what he’s experienced from his parents.. She pulls him in one more time to hold him, and then he feels the oddest feeling on his forehead. It takes him to realize it's her lips giving him a gentle kiss. “We’ll meet again, I promise.”

And then a gust of winter wind blows through the hole, and she’s gone.

He doesn’t really remember much afterwards. Multiple hands grabbing rubble, yells to prop up stuff, the hole getting larger and larger, until it's big enough for him to scrabble through. There’s cheers, blankets, and a cup of hot soup thrust into his hands. It doesn’t taste half as good as his mother’s… speaking of which… he asks where his parents are, and no one says anything, won’t look him in the face.

That’s when he finds out he’s alone.

Uncle Bernard never shows up for the funeral, never comes to claim his nephew, and when his magic shows up a few months later, he’s promptly shipped off to the Circle. And when it is found out that he has a very particular set of magic skills, he gets shipped off again, this time to the Mourn Watch. The place terrifies him, these reminders of death, and it keeps him awake at night, awoken by nightmares of being crushed under the accusing bodies of his parents, blaming him for their deaths. And every time he wakes up in terror, he forces himself to calm down, he uses two familiar techniques.

Breath in… hold it in…3…2…1… let it out…

With a shaky hand he pulls out the golden skull, his greatest treasure, from his breast pocket, and strokes it, while he calms down and settles back to dreamless sleep.

Rook is an ever present thought in his mind. He searches census tomes the moment he has access, but comes up empty handed. He travels the Fade in his dreams working on a hunch that perhaps she was a Spirit. What type, he can’t say, her beauty transcends anything the Fade could offer. Nothing. He does find a Curiosity wisp that follows him around while he dreams, even deciding to cross the Veil to accompany him.

He makes friends with colleagues, including a brilliant but ethically challenged student. He falls in love. He falls out of love. His friendships cool, and he finds out about a way he can banish the fears of death, permanently. The path is long and arduous, but he is certain he can accomplish his dream.

He’s in his mid 20’s when he hears about a living newborn infant found by the undead in the long extinct Ingellvar family crypt. This curious fact, that the spirits inhabiting the undead were able to identify the infant, knew that the baby was in a precarious state without a living being to take care of her, and delivered the child to Vorgoth for safety, all on their own. It makes him wonder if he can create an undead that is able to learn and act independently .

He's getting tired. He’s getting old. He’s getting lonely. His best friend is gone, banished for pushing too far in her discoveries. His Curiosity wisp now has a body of his own, but it’s not quite enough for Emmrich. All that he can look forward to is taking that final, possibly fatal, step to Lichdom. Ironically, his fear of death is the reason he hasn’t crossed that last threshold. That and Rook… he still wants to find her.

He receives a letter from Myrna, stating that his knowledge is required for an urgent matter, that one of his long distance colleagues, a lovely elvish lady named Bellara will be coming to visit. He’s delighted, as she is full of curiosity and her intelligence for her young age astounds him.

‘Mourn Watcher Zea Ingellvar will be accompanying her as an escort’ Myrna adds in a postscript, ‘Due to the urgent matter Bellara will speak to you of, Ingellvar has been given limited privileges to return to the Necropolis. Please do not hold her previous actions against her’

He wasn’t planning to. Her actions in the War of the Banners were heroic and saved countless lives, and he’s always thought it was a travesty of justice to exile her, even if he’s never met her. He’s always admired people who thumb their noses at the living nobility. It’s why he and Hezenkoss got along so well before her expulsion.

Bellara is just as lovely and polite as he imagined, shaking his hand excitedly as her eyes glow with admiration.

“It’s an honour to finally meet you in person, Professor.”

“Please…” he insists, “Just call me Emmrich.” He has a sneaking suspicion he’ll have to remind her that multiple times.

“Oh," she jumps as if she just remembered something she has forgotten, "I should introduce my friend. Not sure if you’ve met, this is Zea Ingellvar”

His heart stops. That dimple. That small scar above her left eyebrow, the silver hair that shimmers like moonlight. The silver eyes that match the exact colour of the gems in the skull he keeps close to his heart. All this time, she’s been here, under his very nose.

“Charmed.” She greets him, the same voice that lulled him to sleep over forty years ago, “But you can call me Rook.”

After all this time, he’s finally found her.

#dragon age the veilguard #veilguard spoilers #emmrich volkarin #emmrich x rook #emmrook #my writing

23 notes · View notes

orange-imagines · 4 months ago

Note

how do you think each of the mud dogs like to cuddle their partners?

Relationship: Romantic

A/N: Posts this way late at night for some reason. Muddy guys upon ye!

Leonard

He loves cuddling a lot. He had no idea he enjoyed it so much until you two got together, but oh boy does it help with his craving for physical affection.

He has a bit of a hard time asking for it, so he really appreciates any moments where you initiate it by laying down next to him or curling against his side on the couch or in bed. It makes it way easier for him to reciprocate and actually relax into.

He has a preference for you resting your head against his chest, or vice versa. If it's the former, he likes being able to rub your back or run his fingers through your hair while he talks to you and presses kisses to the top of your head. He enjoys laying on your chest for all the same reasons, though it's a cuddling position you might have to work your way up to. It makes him feel pretty vulnerable, but getting to have you hold him like that is completely worth it at the end of the day. He'll lay with you for hours -and even fall asleep- if you rub his shoulders and play with his hair.

He also really likes wrapping himself around you if you're both laying on your sides- it makes him feel like he's protecting you even if there's nothing dangerous going on in your lives at the moment (but especially if there is). He just likes getting to hold you close, it's really reassuring for him.

His grip tends to be tighter than he realizes, so you might have to remind him to relax because he sometimes just...doesn't. He's not always the most comfortable guy to cuddle because of this, but he makes up for it with how pleasantly warm he is and how secure he makes you feel.

Danny

A long cuddling session at the end of a hard day? Falling asleep in each others' arms? Whispering sweet nothings alongside soft touches? Sign! him! up!

He's partial to spooning, and although he initially always fills the roll of holding you, he's not opposed at all to being held himself, though it's a thought that would go completely over his head unless you bring it up. He's not used to being taken care of, so it makes him really happy whenever you want to do so, even in simple and small ways.

He also really likes having you lay your head on his chest, or even just drape an arm across him from your side of the bed. He especially likes it if you're both doing your own thing while winding down for the night (usually with him reading a book or going over some plans he's jotted down), and he always ends up absentmindedly tucking your hair behind your ear or tracing patterns on your back. He also mutters and curses to himself without realizing it, and it's very cute.

He's very warm blooded so he acts as a great heater during the colder months, and he...tries his best during summer, despite shedding like a beast and sweating out half his body weight. But he is very comfortable to cuddle with apart from that, and his fur is soft and well taken care of, so altogether it's a pretty nice experience.

Mickey

Bold of you to assume he ever stops cuddling you tbh.

He's not picky about cuddling positions at all, nor does he know what any of them are called. He just throws himself on/around you willy nilly and falls asleep wherever he latches on. Like a leech.

Him spooning you, you spooning him, you laying on his chest, him laying on your back, tangling limbs together, sitting in laps- whatever you're comfortable with, he does. And you'd better be prepared not to get up for a few hours once he gets settled, or at least be prepared to drag him with you if you do need to go and do something. No, he doesn't care if it's annoying. You're cutting into his cuddling time. This is so on you.

He doesn't necessarily run hot or cold, but he'll use the excuse of needing to sap body heat from you in order to get more cuddles if it's getting chilly outside. He makes a lot of excuses like that, even if you both know they're bullshit and he just wants to be close to you. He knows you know, but he's nothing if not committed to the bit.

He's pretty nice to cuddle (like a big body pillow), but he has a habit of either falling asleep on you (and he sleeps like a ROCK), or getting little boosts of energy and initiating a fight, either by tickling you, blowing a raspberry against your neck, or accidentally elbowing you in the ribs while he's trying to get comfortable. He also fidgets quite a bit if he doesn't have anything to occupy his attention, so he really likes to cuddle up on the couch to and watch something with you to help him fully settle down. Just keep that in mind if you're actually trying to have a nice cuddle session with him, and not get dragged into a days-long pillow fight that will inevitably include Danny and Len and force everyone in the apartment to choose sides in a bloody and pointless war (not speaking from personal experience).

#yeah I lied the last one was from personal experience #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt #rottmnt mud dogs x reader #rottmnt mud dogs

31 notes · View notes

marcyvamp1re-blog · 3 months ago

Note

Would you be willing to write Livewire (from Superman The Animated Series) x male reader smut?

Content: Bratty Livewire. Kissing. Biting. Oral sex (Livewire receiving). Thick thighs. Thigh worship. Thighjob (reader receiving). Rough sex. Aftercare.

VOICENOTE.

Synopsis. Leslie has always used others for her own gain, manipulating emotions to control those around her. But that day, something shifted. In a rare moment of vulnerability, she reveals her struggles, and for the first time, the connection between her and the other person feels genuine—something deeper, unspoken, yet real.

pairing ── Leslie Willis (Livewire!) x Male! Reader

Content. MDNI ── Angst, friends with benefits, Bratty Livewire, Kissing, Biting, Oral sex (Livewire receiving).,Thick thighs, Thigh worship, Thighjob (reader receiving), Rough sex, Aftercare.

A/N ── English is not my first language—Spanish — Sorry for the delay in uploading it. I had to do some research on the given information, and I also had some personal issues to deal with. Thank you for your patience!

You were only supposed to be her refuge, her safe place when the weight of the world overwhelmed her or when she felt playful. Leslie loved sending you voice messages loaded with a warmth you knew wasn’t entirely hers. “I love you,” she would say, in a syrupy tone that disarmed even the most guarded, though that phrase, repeated so confidently, was nothing more than a lie. A vile lie that she wielded with the same skill she used to control electricity.

Leslie—or now Livewire—had always been that way: bold, straightforward, and almost supernaturally skilled at using people to her advantage. With you, her advantage came wrapped in skin and caresses, a tacit contract that allowed no negotiations. Her sparking eyes, always sharp, looked at you with a mix of interest and control, as if calculating your every move. Every time you crossed that line with her, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being a pawn in a game whose rules you didn’t understand.

So, what changed?

It wasn’t just desire that shone lately in Leslie’s gaze but something deeper, something even she didn’t know how to name. She had started staying longer after your encounters, her usual sarcasm giving way to half-confessions, her sharp words turning into whispers when she thought you weren’t paying attention. At times, her façade would crack, revealing nervous gestures, words laden with insecurity that didn’t match her explosive personality.

It was as if the storm had taken on her form. Her lips were bursts of heat and humidity, leaving a trail of chaos behind. She bit with the precision of someone who knows pain can be just as addictive as pleasure. There was no tenderness in her kiss, only an intensity that allowed no truce.

"Don't stay still," she ordered with a crooked smile. Her tone was mocking, but her gaze pierced you like lightning. Her tongue traced lines over your skin, and each caress was accompanied by her low, dangerous laughter. She pushed you onto the couch with insulting ease—or maybe you surrendered without resistance. With Leslie, it was hard to tell who gave in first.

Her teeth sank into your shoulder, skirting that line between pain and pleasure. For a moment, you didn’t know whether to pull away or let yourself be consumed by the magnetic chaos Leslie unleashed with every move.

"Does it hurt?" she teased, as her lips descended, leaving a trail of kisses that weren’t really kisses but small, controlled explosions.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The electricity radiating from her body—both literal and metaphorical—kept you in a feverish state. Her hands, rough yet magnetic, explored you with a confidence that left no room for doubt.

"You're so easy to read," she continued, biting your neck this time. The moan that escaped your lips became Leslie’s trophy, and she looked at you with those eyes that never asked for permission.

Leslie loved starting with her own pleasure. It was her unspoken rule, her unbreakable law. Her body dictated the rhythm and direction, and all you could do was surrender. With a confident motion, she straddled you, her thick thighs trapping you with an intensity that made you feel both captive and desired.

"Don’t get sentimental, alright?" she said, her smile itself a challenge. Her platinum hair fell messily, as if the storm within her shaped it too.

When your hands dared to slide over her thighs, she let out a brief laugh, almost a purr.

"What are you waiting for, applause?" she joked, though the gleam in her eyes hinted at something more.

Without needing words, Leslie leaned toward you, pressing her lips against yours with the intensity of someone who knows they’re in complete control. Her teeth, sharp and mischievous, bit your lower lip, pulling it with a mix of violence and playfulness. Her body moved with a confidence that was almost offensive, a rhythm that hypnotized you.

—Do you know what I like most about you? —Leslie asked, without stopping. —That you are always ready. Like a good boy. His laughter echoed like thunder as he settled on top of you, his skin exposed, glistening in the dim light of the storm raging outside. Leslie leaned back on the end of the couch with an almost arrogant majesty. Her breasts, firm and perfect as if they were the work of a Renaissance artist, rose with each breath. He bit his lip, his electrifying eyes searching yours. There were no words. Only the inevitable attraction that made you lean towards her, sinking your lips into the heat of her intimacy, which greeted you with a searing intensity. "Ngh...oh...good doggy...such a good doggy" She whispered placing her hand on your head, sinking you further into her dripping womanhood. A raw, animalistic growl leaves your mouth as she tightens around your pink tongue as you slide again and again inside her, your fingers coming up to make little figure eights on her clit, which was becoming increasingly swollen and hotter.

Leslie's bluish skin was now with reddish undertones due to the heat around you, and her lips were about to bleed from the pressure of her teeth on them. Leslie's lewd sounds and fluids seeped into you. Its juices were a sweet and spicy mixture that wrapped in your mouth as if it were a dessert. Although you will deny it, you loved to adore Leslie, after all, she was your muse. The electric tension in the air seemed to come not just from her, but from everything Leslie represented. Every movement of his was thunder, every moan a lightning that crossed your skin. His hand tightened on your hair, guiding you with almost painful precision, as if the climax was not his alone, but a shared storm.

It was not worship that led you to obey it; It was something more primal, a desire to be consumed by that energy that only Leslie could generate. You felt how his muscles began to tense under your fingers, how his previously controlled breathing became erratic, a melody that only you could hear up close. "There, right there..." he murmured, with a voice that no longer had traces of mockery. Now she was the one teetering on the edge, struggling to stay in control as the electricity threatened to explode from the depths of her being. And then it happened. His body arched as if he had been struck by lightning. His hand trembled tangled in your hair, and a low moan, charged with heartbreaking pleasure, echoed through the room. You felt how your body completely enveloped you, its heat, its humidity, its essence. For a moment, Leslie wasn't Livewire, she wasn't the storm. It was just Leslie, vulnerable, pure energy overflowing, and you, her only witness. The storm subsided little by little, leaving her panting, her skin glowing as if it were made of liquid light. His eyes looked at you, half tired, half filled with a challenge that never quite died away. "Not bad, little dog," he finally said, letting out a hoarse laugh that carried with it an echo of his previous arrogance. But there was something else in his gaze now, a spark of gratitude, or perhaps simple acceptance.

You stayed there, leaning against his still trembling thighs, feeling the weight of the storm you had helped release. You didn't need words. Words, at that moment, could not capture the electric and visceral language that existed between them. When he finally laid back down, his hand slid to your cheek, a gesture that was both possessive and indulgent. "You've been a good little dog...you deserve a prize for your work," she whispered, more to herself than to you, as her breathing began to stabilize. It didn't take long for her to pin you down and put her thick thighs around your erect penis. He began to masturbate you slowly and tortuously. You didn't want him to get angry, but you knew that more than a reward, it was a punishment, a cruel one. You felt the pressure of his thighs, the heat they radiated, like a constant reminder of who was in control. His gaze sparked with a mix of malice and something else you couldn't quite decipher, and the slow pace of his hand was calculated, as if each movement was designed to keep you on the edge without letting you fall. —Do you like this? —he asked with that honeyed voice that always carried a hidden edge. It wasn't a real question, but a disguised statement, a game in which she already knew the answer. His laugh, low and vibrant, slipped between the silences, while his hand maintained that rhythm that bordered on the unbearable.

You tried to move, to search for something else, but his thighs clenched with a force that reminded you there was no escape. Her other arm rested lazily on the back of the couch, as if this were casual entertainment, a game she could continue indefinitely. “You're so predictable,” he continued, leaning towards you a little, enough for his swollen blue lips to touch yours. The electricity in the air seemed to intensify, as if his every movement charged the space with an energy that threatened to consume everything.

The weather became strange. The seconds seemed to stretch, each one charged with tension as his thighs guided you in that hypnotic swing. The heat in your body was building, and you felt like you were on the edge of a cliff that she refused to let you cross. “Don't you dare finish until I say so,” he warned, his words like thunder that resonated deep within you. There was something in her tone, a mix of authority and temptation, that made it impossible to disobey her. His crooked smile returned, the one that always made you question how much of this was a punishment and how much a reward in disguise. And then he changed the pace, barely noticeably at first, but enough for every fiber in your body to react. His gaze did not leave yours, as if he were studying your every reaction, enjoying the absolute power he had over you.

—Tell me, how far are you willing to go for me? —he whispered, leaning close enough for his lips to brush yours, but not kiss you completely. The heat of his breath was another form of torture, a reminder of how close he was and how unreachable he still was. Your lips parted, but you couldn't get any words out. It wasn't necessary. She already knew the answer, and the spark in her eyes confirmed it to you: this was her game, and you were caught up in it. Your eyes widened as you felt her slide her dripping womanhood onto your cock. You grabbed her hips as you felt the depths of her interior, rubbing against her uterus. She went gentle at first, trying to make you feel each of her fleshy rings on your length. But it was only a few seconds, in the blink of an eye she was holding on to your shoulders, jumping on you while grabbing her hips. It was fast and hard, there was no time to think.

She felt so full, so drunk from the delicious burning of her pussy on your cock. And it seems like you were drunk on her too, because as soon as her hips brush against yours at a fast and deliciously hard pace, the words escape her. They were whispers, soft whispers that made his saliva drip out of his mouth. “Oh...how I love you.”

oh...Oh...OH! That was new.

His words hung heavy in the heady air. You almost put everything aside to ask if it weren't because he caged you in his arms, preventing you from stopping. Your voice shakes a little as you let out a humorless laugh as you moaned at the feeling of his core engulfing your cock. Soft lips rest on your forehead and breathe in your aroma. Absolutely scorching, so sensual, all while quietly murmuring, "I love you, my good boy."

. . . Rage

You took her regardless of her protests and pulled her under you, thrusting, trying to forget what she said. But when you looked into her eyes...those electrifying eyes that trapped you in their net, and you saw it there, in her eyes, which for the first time denoted a hint of affection. "I love you" God, I wasn't lying. You held on to her like the world depended on it, and with force, before you came inside her, you came out and ended up on her chest, while she squirted beneath you, staining you with her juices. They stood together on the couch, the room lit only by the distant flicker of rays outside the window. The electricity from earlier had dissipated, leaving them enveloped in a dense silence, like the heavy air before rain. Livewire rested on your chest, her breathing still rapid, but calmer, almost vulnerable in the stillness around them.

Leslie’s skin glowed faintly under the dim light, but it wasn’t just from sweat—it was something deeper: a haunting shimmer, as if the storm she had unleashed within her body still left a mark on her soul. Yet there was something different about her now—a serenity blended with her usual disdain.

“I said a lot of things to you…” she whispered, breaking the silence like a stifled sigh. Her voice was softer, less sharp, and though she tried to hide it, there was an undercurrent of fragility in her words.

You tensed slightly, a faint fear of what she might say rising within you, but something about her—something in her tone—kept you still, your fingers brushing through her hair in an almost automatic gesture of comfort.

“Don’t believe everything I say,” she continued, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze. The electric brilliance from before had faded, leaving behind the Leslie she rarely allowed anyone to see. Her eyes, usually full of control and defiance, now seemed vulnerable, almost lost.

“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” you replied calmly. You knew there was more behind her words, but the truth didn’t seem to matter as much in that moment. Just being there with her, listening to her, was enough.

She let out a small sigh, as though releasing an invisible weight.

“What I said… ‘I love you’…” she repeated softly, her gaze drifting forward, as if the mere thought of those words unsettled her. “It wasn’t true. I can’t love like that; I don’t know how… I never have.”

At first, the air felt heavy. An echo of what she had said lingered between you, but you just looked at her—without judgment, without the need to force a response. You knew there was more to her world than her words let on, and this was one of the rare moments she allowed herself to be vulnerable.

“You don’t have to say it if you don’t feel it,” you said, a bit surprised by your own calmness. Despite everything that had happened, your desire to care for her, to protect her even from her internal storm, seemed stronger than any doubt.

Leslie looked at you, her eyes slightly wide, as though she hadn’t expected such a steady, understanding response. For a moment, her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Finally, she simply nodded, her breathing calmer now, though it still wavered occasionally.

You moved closer, unhurriedly wrapping your arms around her, as if to shelter her in a warmth so deep that, even if only for a brief moment, the storm would feel like a distant memory.

“I’ve got you,” you murmured softly, almost without thinking. The words were so simple, yet the way they left your lips felt like a promise that needed no further explanation.

Leslie, in her silence, leaned into you, resting her head on your chest, seeking that warmth she had always evaded on her own terms. And though no words were spoken, something deeper seemed to bind the two of you in that moment.

Perhaps it wasn’t love—not the kind you could name—but it was something far more real between you: a quiet understanding, an acceptance. Leslie didn’t know how to love in the conventional way, but you understood that, in her own way, she did—though in a form so complex that only time and patience could unravel it.

She said nothing more, and she didn’t need to. It was in the way her body relaxed against yours, in how her breathing aligned with yours, in that shimmer in her eyes that now resembled water after a storm—clear but still unsettled.

And you, without moving, understood her. Not with certainty—because there was never certainty with Leslie—but with an intuition that settled in your chest as gently as her weight did.

She closed her eyes and leaned into you, a surrender without words that spoke volumes. Outside, lightning still traced fleeting patterns across the sky, but inside, in that moment, there was a silence so profound it almost carried the echo of what she dared not say.

Maybe it wasn’t love—not yet—but it was something that, in its ambiguity, held everything

A/N ─── Yay, it's done! And... I guess you could say it's a PWP? I'm not sure. It was hard to find the necessary information, but I hope I’ve provided something you’ll like. I’ve been really busy, and right now as I’m writing this, I’m extremely stressed, so I’m not sure if it turned out well or if I have any spelling mistakes. Please correct me if so.

Feel free to ask me anything

Take a bath!

#leslie willis #livewire #x reader #x male reader #x male y/n #smut #tw.nsfw #pwp #male reader #livewire x male reader #livewire x reader #leslie willis x male reader #leslie willis x reader

28 notes · View notes