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weemssapphic · 1 year ago

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in my head (series)

Chapter Eight: Taking My Time With You

Larissa Weems x f!reader

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words: ~4k, ao3 link

chapter-specific warnings: mentions of body insecurities, nsfw (smut) - making out, face-sitting, cunnilingus, strap-on (r receiving), aftercare

chapter summary: After a successful Rave'N, Larissa cannot wait to ravish you with absolute desperation - but you have other ideas (this entire chapter is basically porn but like… sweet, loving porn).

The door to Larissa’s office slammed shut behind you and you were pushed against it within seconds, Larissa’s lips attaching to your own in a frenzy. It was as though all of the pent-up stress from the last week was pouring out of you both as hands grabbed messily at clothes and tongues and teeth clashed.

“Bed tonight?” Larissa mumbled between kisses. You barely had time to breathe out a “yes” before Larissa was walking backwards towards the door to her quarters, dragging you along by the lapels of your blazer, her lips never leaving your own.

Desperation continued to build within you, the flames of a roaring fire licking at your core. Larissa stopped at the foot of the bed, her hands sliding under your blazer and pushing it down your arms. Her lips were warm and soft, but there was an urgency to her kisses, to each of her movements - it was an urgency that she hadn’t shown before, and it concerned you a little.

“Rissa…” you mumbled, your words immediately swallowed by the blonde, whose fingers had begun to play clumsily with the buttons of your shirt.

“Rissa,” you tried again, pulling back slightly. Larissa looked down at you expectantly, and your heart skipped a beat - her lipstick was smudged down her chin, her sapphire irises barely visible, her chest heaving.

“Are you alright?” she asked breathily as you stared up at her. You couldn’t help but smile at the concern that flashed through widened pupils.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” you chuckled.

“I am more than alright.” Larissa smiled down at you and leaned in for another kiss, which you dodged. A tiny crease appeared between her brows - you were immediately struck with the urge to kiss it away, but you held yourself back.

“We can slow down, then,” you teased, a wide grin stretching across your face. “I’m not a mirage, you know. I won’t just disappear if you don’t fuck me right away.”

A faint pink hue dusted Larissa’s cheeks and she cast her eyes to the ground, dropping her arms down to her sides. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

“Hey.” You took her chin between your fingers and forced her to meet your gaze. “Don’t apologize.” You paused, then in a whisper: “I just want to take my time with you tonight.”

You could have sworn you saw a film of tears in Larissa’s eyes, but then she blinked and they were gone. The crease between her brows faded as her lips curved into a shy smile.

“Okay,” she whispered back.

Placing your hands on her hips, you guided Larissa onto the bed, allowing her to wiggle up until she was on her back, her head resting against the pillows. You hovered over her, gently parting her knees with your own to rest a leg in between hers, then lowered yourself onto her.

You brushed your lips against hers, so lightly that you could barely feel the touch. Another brush of your lips, this time only slightly more firm. You could feel Larissa shiver with anticipation underneath you at the barely-there touches. The next kiss was soft and gentle, and you held back just a little - you’d meant it when you said you wanted to take your time tonight. Something about tonight seemed different - even though Larissa hadn’t officially been your date, the nerves, the flirting, the dancing, had all felt special. You didn’t know what you were but surely what you’d shared had gone beyond friends with benefits. There was no way Larissa didn’t feel it, too, right?

Larissa let out the softest of gasps as your tongue swiped at her bottom lip. Her hands came up to cup your cheeks - you realized then that she still had her gloves on.

“May I?” You crinkled your nose playfully as you said it, taking her hands in your own and brushing your fingers over the fabric of the gloves. Larissa nodded, watching your every move as you slid them off her hands, finger by finger, and reached over to place them neatly on her nightstand.

You turned your attention back to Larissa, gazing into her eyes which still watched you warmly and a bit curiously, waiting for your next move. Yep. Morticia was an idiot. Larissa looked absolutely ethereal, despite (or perhaps because of) her smudged lipstick and her slightly mussed hair. You wondered how anyone could ever turn her down (you would take her in a heartbeat, if she’d only ask), and your heart ached for a young Larissa whose school dance had been colored by rejection and heartbreak, and for an older Larissa who still seemed to hold onto so much bitterness because of it.

The urge to take care of her, to dote upon her and make this Rave’N unforgettable for her - no matter how she might truly feel about you - took over, and you captured her lips again. She matched your pace, languid and gentle, allowing you to part her lips with your tongue and lick into her mouth. The noises she made were heavenly - soft, quiet, breathy - the heat between your legs was growing rapidly but you kept up your torturously slow pace, drawing out every lick, every movement of your lips against hers.

The two of you kissed for what felt like hours, until your lips were tingly and swollen and you were out of breath. You shifted your leg so that your thigh was pressing against Larissa’s center - you could feel her warmth through her underwear and you groaned as she bucked her hips, subtly trying to find friction against her aching core.

“Please,” Larissa whispered, looking up at you with doe-eyes. You placed a final kiss on her lips before sitting up, resting on her thigh as you unbuttoned your shirt, discarding it on the floor next to the bed. Then came your bra and your dress pants (you struggled a bit with those, resulting in a breathy chuckle from Larissa), until you were left in only your panties.

“Can we try something?” you asked timidly. Larissa propped herself up on her elbows, brow creasing slightly, and your heartbeat picked up as you waited for a response. Finally, she nodded.

“Can I take this off?” You tugged lightly at the hem of Larissa’s dress and she sat up so that you could maneuver behind her. You dragged the zipper down, slowly revealing the milky expanse of her back, dotted in tiny freckles that made up little constellations. The zipper ended just above the swell of Larissa’s ass, and you took a moment to kiss your way down her spine before placing your hands on her shoulders and sliding the dress off her arms. She shivered as your hands slid down her biceps, and you placed your lips at the junction of her neck and shoulder, biting gently before sucking and licking at the skin.

Larissa shifted her hips so that you could pull the dress over her butt, then she pushed it down her legs.

“These too,” you whispered, gently snapping the waistband of her panties. She tugged those off as well, then turned to look at you expectantly. “What did you want to try?” You couldn’t tell if Larissa was feeling apprehensive or excited - it looked like a mixture of both - so you threaded your hands in her hair and tugged her close for a searing kiss, pouring all the reassurance and comfort into the kiss that you could summon up.

You sunk down until you were flat on your back, pulling Larissa with you as you went.

“I had this fantasy of you…” you murmured sweetly, rubbing soothing circles over Larissa’s biceps with your thumbs. “Sitting on my face.”

Larissa’s eyes widened slightly and she began to chew at her lip.

“I… don’t know…”

Cupping Larissa’s cheek, you searched her eyes. “What’s on your mind?”

Her cheeks burned and she blinked a few times, parting her lips slightly. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea… you know I’m a whole lot of woman, and-”

“There’s no rush,” you reassured quickly. “But you won’t break me, just saying.” You tried to keep your tone lighthearted and teasing, not wanting to embarrass Larissa.

She swallowed thickly. “Can we… Can we try it then?”

You smiled warmly up at her. “Yes.” Threading your fingers loosely in her updo, which was beginning to lose its hold, you pulled her close and placed a soothing kiss to her lips - you hoped to convey tenderness and care with your actions, showing her that she could feel safe with you. You felt Larissa melt into the kiss, visibly relaxing above you.

After another moment’s hesitation, Larissa pulled back from the kiss to maneuver herself and swing one leg slowly over your head, grabbing the headboard to steady herself. You placed your hands on her thighs, squeezing lightly in reassurance. When she lined her cunt up with your face, you could see how wet she was, her folds glistening delectably - your mouth watered at the sight, and you placed soft kisses to the tender flesh of her inner thighs.

“Take your time,” you murmured, glancing up to see Larissa nod. After a moment, she lowered herself onto your mouth. You licked a stripe up her slit and she jolted a little when your tongue soothed over her clit, biting back a loud groan.

“Is this okay?” she asked, sounding wary and a bit breathless. You responded by rubbing your hands up her thighs until you reached her hips, tugging her down - she relented, pressing the full weight of her body onto your waiting tongue.

Rushing was the furthest thing from your mind as you took your time eating Larissa out - you dragged your tongue through her folds, gathering her juices and savoring the taste of her, tangy and salty. You began drawing slow circles around her clit with your tongue, keeping a languorous pace - every flick of your tongue was deliberate as you worshiped her pussy as if she were a divine goddess.

Larissa rolled her hips in time with your ministrations, becoming more bold in her movements over time. A string of soft, airy moans left her mouth, gradually increasing in volume. The sounds she was making were so delightfully sinful that you felt you could come just from hearing them.

You could feel your own arousal dripping out of your cunt and pooling in your panties - you felt an overwhelming urge to reach down between your own legs and pleasure yourself, but the way Larissa’s hips bucked and rolled beneath your hands made you feel so connected with her that you would gladly ignore your own desire if it meant feeling Larissa’s warm skin under your palms.

A whimper tumbled from Larissa’s lips as you slid your tongue down her slit and circled her entrance, a wave of arousal dripping out of her hole onto your tongue. You moaned, causing Larissa’s pelvis to buck at the vibration against her cunt.

“Please can you- ah, fuck- inside…”

Wasting no time, you dipped your tongue into her center, as far as it could go. Larissa cried out in pleasure, each thrust of her hips becoming more erratic as she got closer to her peak. Her thighs began to tremble as she fucked herself on your tongue - you could tell by her movements and the loud moans tumbling out of her that she was becoming more uninhibited, more confident in herself.

“You’re doing so well,” you praised. “Such a good girl.”

Your words seemed to send Larissa over the edge - she let out a strangled cry, coating your chin in her juices. You fucked her through her orgasm, gently soothing over her clit with your tongue to bring her down slowly, then starting to lap up the remnants of her arousal from her folds and thighs. When you felt her body becoming heavier on your face, you helped her ease her leg over your head.

She slid down beside you, her eyes fluttering shut as she worked to calm her ragged breathing. You wiped her essence off your chin and turned on your side, propping yourself up on your elbow so you could watch her.

“I can feel you staring at me.” Larissa opened one eye to glance sideways at you, and you flushed a deep red.

“Can’t help it when you’re so beautiful,” you mumbled, wrapping an arm around her middle and pulling her close. “How was it?”

It was Larissa’s turn to blush. She turned her head to the side and opened both eyes to look at you, a blissed out smile adorning her face. “Wonderful.” And then, in a whisper so quiet you may have missed it were you not staring at her lips: “You make my body feel like a temple. I feel… worshiped by you.”

“You should.” You leaned over Larissa and kissed her, immediately opening your mouth to allow Larissa to taste herself on your tongue.

“Oh, God,” she rasped, deepening the kiss and grasping for your waist to pull you on top of her. Her leg slipped between your thighs and pressed against your core. Larissa gasped as she felt the wet spot at the center of your panties - you had completely soaked through the thin cotton fabric. “Let me return the favor?”

You whimpered into the kiss, nodding as you pressed your heat against Larissa’s thigh and began to rut your hips - the friction felt so good, after denying yourself for so long, that you were already close to coming.

“That’s it, darling,” Larissa cooed as you cried out, your clit rubbing against the seam of your underwear and sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body.

“Rissa, I’m-” Your sentence went unfinished as your orgasm crested like a wave, then crashed down upon you. Your eyes fluttered shut as you slumped against her, breathing heavily, and you felt her lips on your forehead, her arms snaking around your torso to hold you tightly.

“You’re not tired already?” Larissa teased, and your head shot up.

“Why? Depends what you wanted to do…”

“I was thinking I could fuck you senseless,” she murmured suggestively into your ear, her warm breath tickling your neck. “But if you’re too tired…”

“I’m awake,” you said enthusiastically, grinning down at her.

Larissa laughed. “Good.” She pressed a kiss to your lips, then reached over to her bedside table and rummaged around in the drawer, pulling out her strap and harness.

You moved aside as you watched Larissa adjust the harness against her hips. Larissa settled on her knees in front of you, leaning in and pressing a trail of heated kisses down your throat as her hands found the waistband of your panties, tugging down gently. You shifted your hips to help her, allowing her to pull the underwear down your legs.

Larissa’s pupils widened with desire as she pulled back, her gaze dropping to your pussy - you were absolutely drenched. Her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip, and she squirmed slightly in place.

You reached for the bottle of lube in the open drawer of her bedside table. “Can I?”

The blonde nodded and you began to lube up the strap, rubbing your hands slowly along the appendage. She bit her lip as she watched you, her breath hitching audibly in her chest.

“Do you want to get on your knees for me, darling?” she cooed breathlessly. You wasted no time, getting on all fours and baring your ass to Larissa. She rubbed soothing circles over your thighs, before grasping the cock and brushing the tip teasingly across your clit. It felt heavenly - your walls clenched desperately and you pushed your hips back, begging for her to take you.

Larissa dragged the strap through your folds, up to your entrance. “Are you ready, love?”

“Yes, please,” you breathed.

You felt the tip slip inside of you, stretching you out deliciously. Fisting at the sheets beneath you for dear life, you waited for Larissa to push in further, allowing you time to adjust with every inch.

“Tell me when,” Larissa murmured, keeping her hips perfectly still as she steadied herself on your waist.

You took a deep breath and shifted your hips, groaning a little at the feeling of fullness. “I’m good, Rissa.”

Larissa began a steady pace inside of you - each thrust was slow, almost methodical as she worked out a rhythm. It didn’t take her long - she knew exactly which of your buttons to press - and you ground your hips back, searching for more friction.

You felt her hand reach around your body, her fingers finding your clit and massaging the swollen bundle of nerves, drawing a whimper from your throat.

“Right there,” you gasped, and Larissa circled your clit gently at just the right pace, as if she knew your own body better than you did. She picked up her pace with the strap, snapping her hips to meet your own.

“Good girl,” Larissa panted as you let out a particularly lewd moan - she began to pound into you in earnest and leaned over you to plant sloppy kisses on every inch of skin that she could reach, one hand still on your clit while the other grabbed at your waist. The skin on your back tingled where it had met her lips - all the different touches made you feel as though every nerve-ending in your body was alight.

“Is this alright?” she rasped out, her breath coming out in short puffs on your back as she bottomed out, then pulled out nearly all the way before thrusting back in. You nodded frantically.

“Y-yes, fuck-”

You rocked your hips in time with Larissa’s thrusts, your thighs beginning to quiver. “Riss… I’m so c-close.”

“I got you,” she cooed, steadying herself with a warm, comforting hand on your lower back as you slowly reached your peak. She continued to thrust in and out of you, her fingers rubbing gentle circles around your clit as pleasure exploded within you, then slowly began to ebb.

Slumping forward and resting your forehead on the mattress, you worked to steady your breathing.

“I’m going to pull out, okay?” Larissa waited for your muffled “yeah” before slowly slipping out of you. You heard the sound of the strap hitting the floor, then felt Larissa’s presence by your side, allowing her arms to pull you into an embrace.

She was warm and sticky with sweat - you were content, exactly where you wanted to be. Minutes felt like hours as you allowed yourself to be held - when you looked up, Larissa’s eyes were shut and her breathing deep.

“Rissa?”

She merely hummed in response.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” you chuckled, caressing her cheek and allowing your thumb to trace her lips.

“I’m not asleep,” she replied, voice heavy and almost slurred - you laughed, and she frowned.

“I’m going to clean you up - I’ll be right back,” you whispered, tapping the tip of Larissa’s nose. She giggled and crinkled her nose in response - your heart constricted at how cute she was, and you hurried to get a glass of water and a warm washcloth, not wanting to leave her alone for too long.

As you wet the washcloth in the sink, you caught sight of red lipstick prints smeared all over the lower half of your face. You giggled - but you thought you should take care of those nonetheless.

“Rissa?” you called out.

“Yes?” came her reply from the bedroom.

“Do you have makeup wipes or something?”

“Top drawer on the left.”

You found what you were looking for and returned to the bed.

Larissa had a dreamy-eyed look about her as you dabbed at her folds, careful to avoid her sensitive clit.

You wiped yourself clean as well before dropping the washcloth next to the bed and crawling up next to Larissa to dab at her face with a makeup wipe.

“Thank you,” she mumbled sleepily, a wistful smile dancing on her face.

“Anytime. We still gotta get those pins out of your hair, though.”

Larissa turned her head without prompting and you slid the pins out of her updo, one by one, watching each silver curl fall loose and cascade over her shoulders.

Larissa was quiet as you combed through her hair with your fingers - she seemed to be gathering all her nerves. When she spoke, it was softly and with a touch of apprehension.

“Is it bad if… what if I asked you to stay, and I meant it? Would you?”

Your heart was pounding against your ribcage. You were about to break your one rule - well, Larissa’s one rule. Larissa was about to break her own rule - and you didn’t have it in you anymore to care. Praying to any and all Gods that could possibly exist in the universe that she wouldn’t come to regret it in the morning, you smiled warmly at her.

“Ask me.”

“What?”

“Ask me to stay.”

Larissa took a deep breath.

“Will you stay with me?”

The words rang out in the silence of the room for a moment - you felt your heart stutter in your chest as she spoke them.

“Yes.”

Larissa’s face broke out into a grin - then she yawned, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth.

“We should get some sleep,” you said, though you suddenly weren’t tired anymore. You were actually spending the night with Larissa (you felt like a giddy schoolgirl) - you wanted to savor every second of it.

You wiggled yourself into a comfortable position under the covers, before opening your arms to Larissa. She snuggled in.

“Turn,” you instructed, and she looked up at you, confused.

“You know, normally when someone spoons another person, that person is facing the other direction,” you clarified sweetly.

Larissa frowned, furrowing her brow. “I’m too tall, I should spoon you.”

“Don’t be stubborn, Larissa, turn around.” You tried to look as stern as possible - certain you were failing miserably.

Larissa huffed, but seemed too tired to fight you - she turned in your arms and scooted backwards until her back was flush against your front. You slung one arm around her waist, pulling her closer, and rested your head near the crook of Larissa’s neck, nipping playfully at her skin before peppering the side of her neck and shoulder with soft kisses. A satisfied sigh escaped Larissa’s parted lips and you watched as she fell asleep, a small smile playing on her lips, before allowing yourself to follow suit.

~~~

Larissa blinked her eyes open as the sunlight flooding her bedroom became too bright for her to handle, rousing her from a peaceful slumber. It must be late, she thought, so much later than she normally woke up. Warmth flooded her entire body as she recalled how safe - how (she barely dared to think the word) loved - she’d felt falling asleep in your arms. Arms that were not currently wrapped around her.

A frown creased her face as she took in the empty spot next to her. When had you left? There was an indent in the mattress, and she reached out to trace it with her fingertips - it was still warm. That could only mean one thing - you’d slept over - and you’d slipped out minutes before.

The warm, safe feeling that had flooded her heart morphed into a cold shower of realization. The two of you had broken your rules. And then you’d left. Tears began to prick at Larissa’s eyes. Had she ruined everything? Had she driven away the one person in her life who seemed to accept her as she is, taking everything in stride? Had last night proved that it was all - that she was - too much for you?

Her mind went into overdrive, beginning to pick apart the previous evening’s interactions and pulling them under a microscopic lens - she almost missed the distinct sound of her espresso machine roaring to life in the kitchen. For a brief moment, her stomach churned - was someone else in her quarters? - then relief washed over her like a tidal wave, replacing the cold sense of dread that had taken hold of her.

Larissa jolted into action - she had to see you, had to check that you were really there - more than anything, she had to feel you close. She climbed out of bed and, without bothering to get dressed or pull on a robe, padded towards the sound.

thank you to @afeatherformills and to my girlfriend for helping me with this, I hope you guys enjoy - I am excited for the next chapter hehe

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa x reader #principal weems x reader #principal weems #in my head #in my head series

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magpie-come-east · 2 months ago

Note

Melina for the character ask meme!!

favorite thing about them

I'm sorry. This answer is going to be really uninteresting because I do not have any strong opinions about Melina, really. It's not that I dislike her, but she never left that big of an impression on me. That is, until I did the Frenzy Flame ending.

I enjoy her role in that questline. I love that Shabriri puts forth his stupid fucked up trolley problem (burn the world to ash to save one bodiless woman) and Melina outright tells the player over and over that being kindling is what she wants. She has all the trappings of a classic damsel in that storyline, but she- as the lone sacrifice needed to change the world- begs the player not to remove her agency in this choice.

least favorite thing about them

I think my opinion here will echo many others'. But I think Melina was really underutilized. As the Tarnished's companion at the very start of their quest, she should have more of a presence in their journey. Apart from a few lines about Boc or Torrent, she doesn't express much character of her own (outside of the FF quest). She spouts exposition and is the level up mechanic that the player doesn't even interact with all that much.

The scene of Melina's sacrifice has always felt semi-flat in consequence. The tenderness she feels for the player doesn't feel earned. I genuinely didn't understand why she was so fond of my character the first time I got to that point.

Like I don't need her become the SparkNotes of the narrative in her dialogue, but I think her showing curiosity and interest in the world around her more often would endear me so much more. As she is now, she's just the macguffin I largely ignore on nearly all my subsequent playthroughs.

favorite line

"However ruined this world has become, however mired in torment and despair, life endures. Births continue. There is beauty in that, is there not?"

This is the one line from Melina that stuck with me. It's the one that I remember most out of everything. Very few times does Elden Ring look at you through the screen and dictate the story to you obviously. But this is one of those times. Melina sees hope for the world. She's pleading for the player not to destroy the world. And her reasoning feels weak. Life endures? That's all she has? But in a way its the most important consideration.

brOTP/OTP (Combining these because the answer is the same)

I mean, actually, I really like Lord of Frenzied Flame Tarnished x Melina. That friends to enemies angst is magnificent. Melina having to live with the reality that her chosen Tarnished chose to destroy everything for her sake. Brutal. The Tarnished now being hunted by the person they immolated themselves to save. Exquisite.

General Melina x Tarnished is also sweet. Fics of Tarnished befriending Melina are what made me care even a little about her in the first place.

nOTP

Eh, nothing really. I don't seek out content of her enough to know what ships exist beyond Melina x Tarnished.

random headcanon

Melina craves Rowa Raisins so bad. She wishes she had a body just so she could eat them.

unpopular opinion

I am not convinced at all Melina is the Gloam Eyed Queen. It’s a theory I’ve never really found compelling for a variety of reasons I won’t really get into- except for one. I feel like trying to connect every historical figure in the Lands Between to a current character makes the world feel smaller and incestuous. Like the only people ever of import had to come from Marika’s lineage. I thought it was neat enough we got nods to Melina being a Demigod- then practical confirmation in SOTE. But I don’t believe Melina being the GEQ adds anything interesting to either Melina as we know her or the GEQ.

song i associate with them

Welcome Home by Coheed and Cambria (its got the LOFF vibes to meeeee)

Escape pod by Paris Paloma is a great one too!

#Melina

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gwen-writes · 10 months ago

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so... i couldn't stop thinking about how hilarious it would be if Astarion planar travelled to my roommate and i's dorm room accidentally (thanks Gale), and i wrote it. forgive any formatting errors, this is my first time posting fic-type writing to tumblr!

totally self-indulgent, silly fun. enjoy if you want!

(1357 words) and shoutout to my bestie "isolde" :) love u

IF YOU WANT MORE OF THIS, check it out on my ao3! gwen_writes

A Vampire in New England

With a quick huff toward her candlewick, the smell of “warm luxe cashmere” was replaced with the pungent sting of smoke. Two clicks and the lamp was out, the two women crawling into bed and whispering among themselves. Sleep ached behind Isolde’s eyes, only allowing her a few more blinks before she was lulled into a dream. Fiora stretched and groaned in her cot, wishing she could sleep as easily as her roommate.

Fiora’s brows softened as she soothed herself with deep breaths, waiting for rest to overcome her. An incomprehensible roar shattered her resolve, glares of purple beaming in a flash of swirling magic. Her eyes couldn’t adjust to the light - she squinted and desperately tried to comprehend what was before her. The beacon dispelled just as soon as it had appeared, and Fiora willed against her paranoia to not panic at the sight of a figure in her room.

“I will never trust Gale again,” A smarmy voice hissed. The shadows allowed no outline of the thing on the floor, but she could see that it was sprawled out on her patterned rug. She was stunned into silence, glued to her sheets in place. Every nerve in her body was screaming for her to alert Isolde - who was remarkably still asleep next to her - to alert anyone. But who, exactly, are you supposed to call when a glowing force materializes in your room and dispenses a person in its wake?

Fiora turned her head to look at Isolde, telepathically pleading for her to stir. That was a mistake, notably, because she had caught the guest’s attention.

“Oh, hells,” Something glinted in the dim light, and she realized this visitor had weapons. “Am I going to have to kill you, or are you going to be ever so intelligent and let me walk free?”

Isolde shifted in her blankets. Fiora’s wide eyes darted between her roommate, then the unwelcome presence. Moments passed, and Fiora couldn’t manage any words out of her mouth.

“An answer would be helpful, truly,” Their voice was smooth and fulsome.

“Don’t kill me, please,” She blustered, more pathetic than she wanted it to be. “Just get the fuck out of my room - it’s fine.”

“Wonderful,” They said in a singsong voice. As her eyes adjusted, Fiora was able to make out more features now. White hair, distinctive red eyes. Not intimidatingly tall - they couldn’t be much taller than her. The figure turned sharply, but it suddenly went aflame with a string of profanity.

“What the fuck!” Fiora jumped out of bed. If the sprinklers went off or something went wrong, she assumed this person wouldn’t hesitate to stab her. Isolde finally awoke, rushing out of bed in a frenzy.

“What! What? What!” She yelped, first giving a worried look to her friend and then looking at the blurry mass of fire. “Oh my god!” Isolde pushed her glasses onto her nose, trying to grapple with her surroundings.

Fiora was scrambling to unscrew her water bottle and douse the open flame, and in its light she could finally see the person. A man with sharp features, extravagant leathers, thick boots. He looked like he had just come from a Ren Faire.

“What the fuck is going on!” Isolde started opening her water bottle to contribute. “Why is the room on fire!” “It’s a person!” Fiora unhelpfully explained, thoughts racing. She pushed past the flaming body, the fire licking her cotton pajamas, and opened the door. There was one open square on the man’s back, and with the miniscule amount of force in her body, she pressed both of her palms to him, and shoved.

He writhed on the ground, sparks finally deteriorating.

“Don’t even ask me anything, because I don’t know what the fuck is going on,” Fiora said to Isolde, exasperated. A laugh threatened to escape her lips, adrenaline coursing through her.

“I slept through a man appearing in our room?” Isolde replied, and the two women were transfixed by the charred man on their dorm hall floor, despite their better judgment.

“My stomach hurts. I’m sweating,” Fiora hissed. “You should’ve seen it - it doesn’t make any sense. I was trying to fall asleep and this huge light showed up, and it was the loudest noise I’ve ever heard in my life, I swear to god. And then, he was just there! He was just… on our floor!”

“What do we do with him?” Isolde asked.

Fiora eyed her wildly, “What do you mean ‘what do we do with him?”

“He sounds like he’s magic, or something,” Isolde shrugged.

“He threatened to stab me before you woke up,” Fiora emphasized.

“But what if he’s a wizard?” Isolde whined.

“Oh my god, I can’t,” Fiora started laughing.

“Nothing cool ever happens, this could be, like, something crazy that we might miss out on!” She bargained.

“Okay, so what do you suggest we do with him?” Fiora crossed her arms. The cold air from outside of their dorm was tickling her bare arms.

“We should help him! He’s burned to a crisp!” Isolde gestured to the limp man, who was still groaning on the floor.

“If he’s a wizard, he can heal himself,” She narrowed her eyes.

“You’re telling me that a wizard just showed up on our doorstep from a portal and you don’t want to know where he came from, who he is, every single thing he’s ever done in his life?” Isolde tempted.

Fiora gave her a long look, “You’re so right.”

“Do you think he’s knocked out?” Isolde looked upon the man.

“I doubt he would survive that,” Fiora reasoned.

“Okay, each of us takes an arm, and then we pull him back into our room. University Police will nab him if they find a sleeping man outside our door.”

As they kneeled down, hands going under the man’s shoulders, his eyes cracked open and he cut through their plans.

“Lay one more finger on me and I will have your head on a stake,” He threatened. Isolde was faster to jump away than Fiora, like a rabbit in the grass with a snake.

“I told you he was violent!” Fiora hissed.

“He’s a wizard!” Isolde defended.

He pushed himself onto his elbows, scowling, “That is insulting. I am not a wizard.”

“What are you, then?” Isolde’s eyes widened with alarm.

“If you must know,” He smiled easily, as if he hadn’t just been scorched moments prior, “I am a magistrate from Baldur’s Gate.”

“Where the fuck is Baldur’s Gate?” Fiora frowned.

“Faerûn,” He threw up a hand like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Uncultured little thing, you are.”

“Why would a magistrate show up in my room from a magic portal?” Isolde’s eyes narrowed. “You’re just a civilian officer. You can’t be that important.”

“Yeah,” Fiora dogpiled, “And why did you catch on fire?”

He chuckled, rising to his feet. Fiora was right, he was barely taller than her. The cracks on his skin from the burns were slowly fading, but bruises peppered his face. A handsome face, Fiora thought.

“Both of you are very inquisitive,” He complimented, which made Fiora’s stomach curdle. He suddenly seemed much less helpless, and much more like a sneering wolf.

“If you answer our questions, we can help you get back to.. Baldur’s Gate, or whatever it was,” Isolde was uncharacteristically bold. The man raised a brow, considering the offer.

“And where are we now, exactly?” He surveyed their surroundings, and it was clear that despite his blind confidence, this man was very, very lost.

“The United States. New England. Our college dorm,” Fiora offered simply. The man rolled his eyes, not to them but almost to someone in the sky.

“Gods, Gale, I’m going to fucking kill you,” He cursed in a sing-song voice under his breath. He blinked a few times, looked to the ground, and then met their gaze again.

“I’m Astarion,” He raised out a pale hand, “you are?”

“I’m Fiora,” She didn’t take his hand, anxiety still going rampant in her veins.

“Isolde,” The red-haired woman smiled and took his hand, shaking it gently.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate #astarion fic #astarion x oc #astarion ancunin #astarion #fanfic #fanfiction #modern au #baldurs gate iii #baldurs gate fanfiction #a vampire in new england

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selmasemlan · 2 months ago

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Unwavering Resolve

Summary: Bakugo gets a little nostalgic

Pairing: Todoroki Shoto x Luna Aizawa (OFC), Bakugo Katsuki x Luna Aizawa (Platonic)

Author note: I love the idea of Bakugo and Luna being just awesome.

Warning: mention of war

Word count: 931

Series masterlist

Unwavering Resolve

The battlefield is a war zone of quirk-induced chaos, with flames, ice, and bursts of energy tearing through the air. Buildings crumble under the strain of the conflict, and the ground trembles with every explosion. Amid the frenzy, one figure stands out—Luna, the leader of the operation, commanding her team with unwavering authority and precision.

Her voice, calm yet firm, cuts through the noise as she issues orders through her earpiece. “Squad A, flank the enemy from the west. Squad B, hold the perimeter—don’t let them breach the civilians’ shelter. Squad C, with me. We’re taking down their leader.”

Her commands are followed without hesitation, her team moving in perfect sync with her strategy. Luna’s movements are fluid, almost graceful, as she navigates the battlefield. Her eyes are sharp, scanning for any sign of danger, her instincts honed by years of experience. Every decision she makes is quick and decisive, each one pushing them closer to victory.

Bakugo stands at a distance, his gaze locked on her. He’s seen her fight countless times before, but today, there’s something different—something extraordinary—in the way she leads. There’s a confidence in her, a quiet power that commands respect and inspires those around her. She’s no longer the quirkless girl with a dream; she’s a hero who’s earned her place among the best.

Luna doesn’t hesitate as she charges toward the enemy’s strongest fighter, her team covering her flanks. She ducks under a blast of energy, pivots, and delivers a precise, devastating blow to her opponent. He staggers back, stunned by her strength and speed. Luna presses her advantage, her movements a blur as she lands strike after strike, each one pushing the villain further to the edge.

Bakugo watches with a mixture of pride and awe. She’s relentless, unstoppable—a force of nature. And as he watches her, a memory from their childhood floods his mind…

It’s late afternoon, and the sun hangs low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the park where they’ve been training. The air is thick with the sounds of nature, the rustle of leaves, and the distant chirping of birds. Exhausted from their sparring session, Luna and Bakugo sit on the grass, their bodies still humming with adrenaline.

Bakugo gulps down his water, watching Luna from the corner of his eye. There’s something different about her today—she’s quieter, more introspective. He’s about to ask her what’s on her mind when she suddenly speaks.

“Bakugo… I’m going to be an international pro-hero.”

The statement catches Bakugo off guard, and he chokes on his water, coughing as he struggles to catch his breath. He turns to Luna, his eyes wide with disbelief. “What? Are you serious?”

Luna nods, her gaze fixed on the horizon where the sun is beginning to dip below the trees. “Completely.”

Bakugo shakes his head, trying to wrap his mind around her words. “You’re not reaching a little too far, Luna? I mean… that’s a massive goal. Even for someone with a quirk.”

Luna turns to him, her expression unwavering. “No, it’s the only way. If I can make it as an international pro-hero, I can change the way society views people like me. It’ll open doors for others who are quirkless or different. If I can do it, then anyone can.”

She stands up, her eyes locking onto the setting sun as she reaches out as if trying to grasp it in her hand. The light bathes her in a warm glow, making her look almost ethereal, like a beacon of hope in the fading daylight. In that moment, she seems larger than life, her small figure filled with a determination that feels almost palpable.

Bakugo stares at her, his breath catching in his throat. He’s always known that Luna was different—stronger, more determined—but seeing her like this, so driven and fearless, shifts something in him. For the first time, all the doubts he’s ever had about her dream, about her ability to change the world, evaporate. He sees her not just as his friend, but as someone destined to reshape the world.

He nods, rising to his feet, his own resolve hardening in the face of her unwavering determination. “Then we better get to work,” he says, extending his fist toward her.

Luna turns to him, a smile breaking across her face, and she meets his fist with her own. The gesture, simple as it is, feels like a promise—a pact between them that no matter what, they’ll achieve their dreams together.

The memory fades, and Bakugo finds himself back on the battlefield, his eyes locked on Luna as she lands the final blow that brings the fight to an end. Her opponent crumples to the ground, defeated, and Luna straightens, her breath coming in steady, controlled puffs. The battlefield is quiet now, the battle won, and Luna stands at its center, her presence commanding and powerful.

“You did it,” Bakugo says quietly to himself, his voice filled with pride. He watches as Luna surveys the scene, checking on her team, ensuring that everyone is safe. There’s no arrogance in her stance, no self-congratulation—just a quiet, steady determination to do her job and protect those who cannot protect themselves.

Bakugo clenches his fists, feeling his own determination burning brighter than ever. If Luna can achieve her dream, then he’s damn sure going to become the number one hero in Japan. With renewed vigor, Bakugo launches himself back into the fray, his heart set on claiming the title he’s always wanted, spurred on by the belief he’s always held in his childhood friend.

#selmasemlan fic #shoto todoroki x reader #my hero academia #my hero academy fanfiction #boku no hero academia #aizawa shouta #ultrared #midoriya izuku #bakugo katuski #shoto todoroki x oc #bakugo katsuki x oc #izuku midoriya x oc #boku no hero acadamia oc

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multi-fan-dom-madness · 1 year ago

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Chapter 30: Me'dinuir (Second Chances - Hunter x reader)

Me'dinuir. v. to share, to give to each other

Chapter Summary: You and Hunter share the night together.

Chapter Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, here be smut; filth with feelings, slightly possessive Hunter, gn!reader so can be read as PiV or PiA, oral (m and gn receiving), nipple play (both receiving), some action outdoors, slight teasing, inebriated sex but they'd both give enthusiastic consent sober, confessions; if smut ain't your thing you can technically skip this chapter

Word Count: 3,278

a/n: jeezus I guess when I said 'slow burn' I fuckin' meant it. here we are folks, 100k+ words in and they finally get to fuck. I hope the buildup has been as worth it for y'all as it has been for me >:) I love these lovesick idiots. enjoy! <3

< Previous chapter | Next chapter >

You nearly race to get home, arousal already beginning to pulse deep in your core. Hunter never lets go of your hand; electricity buzzes where his skin meets yours, static shocks of affection jumping between you when you turn to meet his darkened gaze. Tipsy or not, you can’t deny the overwhelming desire for the man beside you, the soul-deep need to connect with him in a way so intimate that you nearly become one.

By the time you reach the courtyard, you’re panting and flushed, both from the near-sprint home and from the promise of Hunter’s lips on yours. It seems he’s just as affected. You don’t even make it to the front door; Hunter tugs your hand to spin you around, and presses your back against a nearby palm tree. Bracing himself with one arm above your head, he releases your hand to slide his around your waist and tug you closer. His eyes are pinpricks of light, barely shining in the moonlight that sends his hair cascading like dark silk toward you.

Chests flush, you lick your lips. “What about the rule?”

“D’you really care about it?” he asks, withdrawing a hairs’ breadth.

“Kriff no,” you say. “Teasing.”

“Thank the Maker,” he murmurs.

And then his mouth is on yours. Feverish and intense, his lips move against yours in a frenzy of passion, making your head spin. Resting one hand on his toned waist, you card your fingers through his curls with your other.nHe tilts your head for better access, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth. Arching into him, a pleasant shudder dances through your body, fanning the crackling flames of desire into a blaze. Groaning into your mouth, Hunter’s hand slips from your back to cup your ass, his fingers squeezing the soft flesh.

You gasp, need seizing your lungs. “Hunter.”

“Shh,” he coos. “I’ve got you.”

Nudging your face to the side with his nose, he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses across your cheek to your ear. He tugs your earlobe between his teeth, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your body. Nipples stiffening under the loose fabric of your tunic, you moan softly. Hunter continues downward, his lips suckling at the soft skin of your neck, sure to leave a trail of light hickeys. You couldn’t care less.

As he laves attention to your sensitive skin, you scrape your nails lightly across his scalp. You’re rewarded with a deep groan. Grip on your ass tightening, Hunter pulls your hips flush against his own. You groan, head lolling to the side as he finds that patch of skin that drives you wild, and let him guide your hips in a slow roll over his clothed length. He’s hard already; the outline of him against your core feels big, and your mouth waters at the mere impression of its size.

You guide his face back to yours to kiss him again; he parts under your tongue immediately, your wet appendages meeting and dancing together in a heated, desperate rhythm. Arousal courses through you, slick and hot, nearly as dizzying as the berrywine you’d drank. Kark, you need this man—tonight has been a long time in the making, every step on the journey to get here one you wouldn’t change, not if it means you’d always end up here, kissing like you’ll die if you stop.

Hunter’s other hand finally caresses you, sliding down your back and over the curve of your ass, to hook under your knee. His other hand mirrors the action. In one smooth movement, he lifts you; you wrap your legs around him, arms securing around his neck, as he turns to carry you inside.

He ducks through the front door, dipping you down so you don’t hit your head. Only once you’re over the threshold to your bedroom does he set you down. The bedrolls you’d spread out earlier await, a small lantern putting off faint, white light. Along one wall, the window facing the ocean remains partly open to catch the sea breeze.

In the lantern light, Hunter’s eyes gleam. His gaze rakes over your body, and despite still being fully clothed, you feel exposed, bare to him. Goosebumps prickle along your arms.

“Stars, I need you,” he murmurs. His tattooed hand cups your face.

Leaning into his touch, you press a kiss to his palm. “I’m here. I’m yours.”

His eyes darken. “Say it again.”

Lips parting with a silent moan, you search his gaze and find the same desperate desire there that lingers under your skin.

“I’m yours, Hunter.”

He crashes his lips against yours once again. You cradle his face in both palms, delighting in the shiver of pleasure that skitters through you at the thought of feeling his stubble elsewhere on your body. Reaching up with one hand, you gently tug on his bandana; it slides free with little resistance, and you toss it to the side.

Hunter slips his hands beneath the hem of your tunic and undershirt; his skin is warm against yours, and you shudder. Eager, and wholly impatient, you wrench the offending garments over your head, letting them join the red scrap of fabric on the floor.

Breaking away from your kiss, Hunter sighs in contentment. His gaze wanders your bare torso, leaving a trail of fire where you imagine his eyes alight. His hands aren’t far behind his eyes; his thumbs brush lightly over your stiff nipples, and you gasp.

“Please,” you mumble.

“Please what?” he says, looking up at you from beneath a curtain of dark curls.

You shake your head, coherent thought trickling away by the second. “Just. Need you. Now.”

“Lay down for me, mesh’la.” He helps you lower to the floor, the bedrolls doing little to shield from the chill of the wooden floors or from their stiffness, but you don’t care about that right now. As he kneels beside you, Hunter smooths his hands over your bare skin, down your front, to hook his thumbs in the waistband of your pants.

A silent question creases the furrow of his brow. You nod. He tugs the waistband down, and you angle your hips to help him slide your pants down. Shuffling to your feet, Hunter gently pulls your shoes from your feet before removing your pants altogether. Arousal aching in your core, you realize he’s left your underwear; more than that, you realize he’s still fully clothed.

“Hunter,” you whine. “Undress for me.”

“Patience, sweetheart.”

He obliges, though, at least partly. Once he yanks his green shirt off, he crawls up your body, his toned muscles rippling beneath his tanned skin. A groan rips from you at the sight. All your time aboard the Marauder, and you’ve somehow managed to avoid seeing any of the boys even partially naked. As you suspected, Hunter’s tattoo covers the entirety of his left side, inked ribs and vertebrae standing in stark contrast to the rest of his skin. Ghosting your fingertips over the ink, you catalog the way he shudders when you reach his collarbone, the way his abs tense when you trail over his ribs, the way his lips part in a nearly silent whimper as you rake your nails over his pectoral.

“Wanted this for so long,” you murmur.

His eyes find yours. “Tell me.”

You hum in thought. In reality, you’re not sure if you can pinpoint a specific instance, a moment frozen in time as the one where you knew. As you ponder it, Hunter’s gaze never wavers from yours as he lowers his mouth to your skin once again. He presses kisses to your chest and down your breastbone, before licking a stripe up to one of your nipples. He fans his warm breath over the bud, and you moan brokenly.

“Tell me, cyare,” he repeats, “please.”

You laugh breathlessly. “C-Can’t think when you’re doing—oh, doing that!”

His lips seal around your nipple and his teeth graze over the sensitive little bud at your words. A smirk tugs at his features, and you can’t even be mad, because the pleasure shoots straight to your core.

Then he pulls back, lifting himself on his knees and hands so none of him touches you. “That better?”

“No,” you admit. Sucking in a deep breath, you finally answer his question: “You’ve always been attractive to me, but I think the moment I stopped wanting to fuck you and started wanting to make love with you was Quantxi.”

A smile graces his features. “Would you like to know what moment it was for me?”

Nerves flitter in your stomach, but you nod.

“I’ve had feelings for you since Bescane,” he admits. “Started as a crush. Seeing you stand over my brother like that, protect him, even though you barely knew us, that...really did something to me.”

You laugh, body flushing with a new kind of warmth. “When did it become serious?”

He relaxes back down until his forehead rests against your breastbone, his hair tickling your skin. “Quantxi.”

Gently caressing his jaw, you lift his face to meet your gaze. He offers you a small smile. For a long moment, the two of you stay there like that, staring into one another’s eyes. In your chest, in that strange little spot that’s always felt physically tethered to him, you feel something burst.

You prop yourself up on one elbow and tug him up to you with your other hand. His kiss is soft, sweet; your heart squeezes in your chest. Before, you’d been rushing yourself, worried that if you didn’t do this as quickly as possible, the chance would slip away like smoke. But now, all you want is to take your time. To pick him apart at the seams, let him do the same to you, and retie yourselves with bits of one another’s threads. Pulling him flush to you, you hook one leg up around his hips to drag his length against your core.

“F-Fuck,” you mutter. Nibbling at his neck, you set a languid pace, using your heel to encourage him to rock against you. The friction is delightful, sending zings of pleasure through your entire body. Hunter groans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder, breathing coming in heavier gasps.

“Feel good?” you ask.

He nods. “Very.”

“Let me make you feel even better,” you say.

Rolling both of you, you straddle his hips, sitting up to catch your breath. Stars, the way he looks up at you like you hung the very stars themselves makes you melt. Gliding backward, you undo the clasp of his pants and remove them from his body much like what he’d done for you—but you’re sure to catch the waistband of his underwear, fully baring him to you.

You moan shamelessly at the sight of his cock. Thick and tall, the flushed tip beads with precum and the entire length bobs gently in time with Hunter’s heartbeat. Mouth watering at the sight, you breathe through your nose. Take your time, you remind yourself.

Starting at his ankle, you string kisses, licks, and nips up his toned calf to his thick, muscular thighs. Nestling yourself between his legs, you gently massage his thighs as you urge him to silently part his legs around you.

“Cyare,” Hunter breathes. He sounds wrecked already, and you haven’t even touched him.

“Relax,” you say with a smile.

Impatient with yourself for teasing him this long, you lick a broad stripe up his stiff length from base to head. Hunter’s abs tense, his body bowing forward, as a moan punches out of him. You wrap your fingers around his cock and begin slowly jerking him off. You suckle at his head, teasing his frenulum with your pointed tongue, smirking at the way that he flops back on the bedroll. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, groaning.

“Fuck, you’re so- so good at that,” he whimpers.

You hum around his tip in response. Taking him a bit further into your mouth, pride swells within you as he moans. One of his hands searches blindly for you, before resting on top of your head. Bobbing your head, you use your hand to reach the parts your mouth can’t. The more you suck him off, the more spit drools out of you, slicking your grip. Hunter writhes, shallowly thrusting his hips up into your mouth. In the cool night air, his own nipples have stiffened; you can’t resist the impulse to reach up with your free hand to tweak one of the pert buds.

“Oh!” Hunter jerks his head up to meet your amused gaze. “D-Do that again, please.”

Not one to deny him, you oblige, twisting his nipple lightly. Beneath your hand, his chest vibrates with a deep groan. His eyes fall to half-lidded, lips shiny and swollen from your earlier kisses. Desire pulses within you, hot and thick, desperate.

Pulling off him with a wet pop, you wipe your mouth on the back of your hand. “Good?”

“‘Good’ doesn’t cut it,” he says with a breathless chuckle. “Let me return the favor.”

“You don’t have—”

He presses one finger across your lips. “I want to.”

Lowering you onto your back once again, he laves kisses down your front as he shuffles down. He pulls your underwear down, discarding the garment to be found later, then settles himself between your thighs much like you’d just been between his. Balanced on your elbows, you bite your bottom lip at the sight of him there.

“Relax, cyare,” he urges. Then his mouth is on you. Bliss explodes through you; you hadn’t realized how much your arousal needed attention until this very moment, and now you never want it to end. Hunter’s mouth is warm and wet on your aching arousal, his ministrations doing little to bank the fire raging in your core. If anything, his actions stoke the flames higher. His lust-dark gaze never leaves yours. You twist your fingers through his hair, desperate to feel more of him.

He reaches with one hand and presents two fingers to you. Wrapping your lips around the digits, you slick his fingers with your spit, moaning in pleasure as he settles into a rhythm that has a wire tightening within you. Hunter withdraws his fingers and, never ceasing the pleasure his mouth brings, gently presses his spit-wet digits into your tight heat. You hiss at the intrusion (it’s been far too long, you think to yourself), but the momentary pain fades when he crooks his fingers against your walls.

“H-Hunter,” you gasp out. “Hunter, fuck, don’t stop.”

He hums against your heated core, the sound vibrating through you. Chest rising and falling with each rapid breath you heave, that wire in your core winds tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.

Hunter pulls back at the last possible moment. With a frustrated, aroused groan, you slump back against the bedroll. Sweat dews your skin, and lust simmers deep in your core. Above you, Hunter spits into his hand, slicking his cock.

He looks like a god. A fine sheen of sweat coating his body, his muscles flex and ripple with each jerk of his length, his dark curls sticking to his forehead. The ink of his tattoo casts his left side into deeper shadow, but you know the spark of light, love, and life that burns within him. Your heart stutters when he grins at you, adoration sparkling in his eyes.

“Ready, sweetheart?” he asks.

You nod. “Please.”

With some shuffling, you catch your legs behind your knees to spread them for him. He rests the blunt head of his cock at your entrance, and then, meeting your eyes once again, slowly pushes into you.

Your world narrows to Hunter’s gaze and the pressure in your core. Breath hitching, a moan spills from you as he splits you open. He groans your name, your real name, in quiet, heated pleasure; you shiver at the sound of your name falling from his lips. He grips one of your hips, pushing himself in and tugging you down onto his length until he’s fully seated within you. Chest heaving with labored breaths, Hunter’s nostrils flare as he fights to keep his composure.

Pleasure burns in your core, sharper and sweeter than before. Reaching for him, you wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace as he lowers into a classic missionary pose. The change in angle presses him just a bit deeper; you choke over a moan as his cock nestles against the bundle of nerves in your walls. Stars burst behind your eyes.

“Please,” you whimper, “make love to me, Hunter.”

“Stars, yes,” he whispers.

He thrusts into you slow and deep, unhurried, languid. You wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles together to drive him deeper. Every rock of his hips makes both of you moan and gasp, pleasure squeezing your lungs and heart. Folded over you like he is, the friction of his body and the press of his cock within you draws that wire tight once again. Keening low in your throat, you tighten your grip around him.

“Gonna make me cum,” you mumble.

“Good,” he nearly growls. “Want you to fall apart for me.”

“Whatever you want, my love,” you whisper.

He drives his cock into you a little harder at your promise. Moans punch from your chest with every thrust. Hunter adjusts his grip on you, grabbing your ass to give him better leverage. Whining, you scrape your nails down his back, arching into him as the pleasure in your core winds ever tighter.

And then that wire snaps without warning. Your body stiffens, pleasure flooding every nerve ending. You’ve never felt this good before, never felt so full, so close to someone—and you’re so glad it’s Hunter making you feel this way. For his part, Hunter moans brokenly against your ear, thrusting one, two, three more times before stilling within you. His cock pulses with his own orgasm, his warmth filling you.

It takes a long moment, but eventually you come back down, panting, bodies stuck together from sweat. He trembles in your embrace, and you rub circles into his back, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear until he stops shaking.

When he raises his head, his face is streaked with tears. Alarm trills through you.

“Maker, are you okay!?” you ask. Wiping his tears, you turn his face side to side. “What happened?”

“I’m fine,” he says with a thick laugh. “Just—” Your full name falls from his lips again like a prayer. “I love you.”

Concern cools in your bones, solidifying into ice that shatters just a moment later as your brain computes what he just said. The pair of you remain frozen. Lips parted in surprise, you can’t help the shuddering breath that escapes you, your own tears welling up.

“Hunter—”

“You don’t have to say it back,” he says quickly. “It—I—I needed to say it.”

Cupping the back of his head, you pull him down to meet your lips. This kiss is tender, soft and affirming. You try to pour all of your affection for this man into your actions, the press and pull of your mouth against his. When the kiss breaks, you don’t let him move more than a few inches away, tears thick in your eyelashes.

“I love you, too.” You stroke his cheekbones. “Hunter, stars, I love you so much.”

He buries his head into the crook of your neck again, his smile wide against your skin. “I-I don’t know what to say next.”

“Then don’t say anything,” you soothe. “Just stay here with me, like this.”

“Always.”

Liste de Ragu: @the-hexfiles @fjordg @idoubleswearimawriter @skellymom @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @mandos-mind-trick @idontgetanysleep @eyeluvmusic21 @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter @bobaprint @lem-hhn @thorsterstrudle @droids-you-are-looking-for @goblininawig @cw80831 @dreamie411 @jedi-hawkins @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @9902sgirl @originalcollectionartistry

#tbb hunter x reader #hunter x reader #hunter x gn!reader #second chances #rhiwrites #tbb x reader #the bad batch x reader

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stray-kaz · 1 year ago

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Hold Me Close, Don’t Let Go : a Billy/Four x f!reader oneshot

Summary: Billy has been “Four” for a while now, but you still miss him when he’s gone. This time, it’s too much and you need to be as close to him as humanly possible.

Warning: Adult behaviour. Watch your step.

The rasp of the key in the battered lock pulled you slowly out of an uneasy doze, yellow light reaching down the hall outside of your bedroom. Familiar footsteps made the carpeted floor creak and the heavy sound of a backpack hitting the floor forced your heavy eyes open wider, your heart beginning to drum hard behind your ribs.

By the time the bedroom door opened all the way and the man you couldn’t sleep for worrying about stood framed in the light, you had pushed the covers down and flown to him, knocking into his chest and sending him back a step or two. One arm snagged him round the waist, while the other hand inched down to his left wrist; you sighed in relief as your fingers traced over the familiar worn leather cord, the etched silver coin laced to it as normal.

“Hello” Billy said quietly, having recovered from your greeting. “I missed you, too, baby.”

You felt him under your hands again, for the first time in weeks. He was no dream, he was solid, a little cold from the weather outside but warm underneath it. Leaning into him, your chests pressed firmly together, you felt your heart beating in strange places: at your fingertips, behind your eyes, and most notably, between your legs.

It had been weeks since he had kissed you, held your hand, moved in you through the weeping dark.

You laid siege.

There was no time for softness or tender touches as you kissed him with force, dousing his muffled words of surprise as water douses a candle flame. Desperate hands yanked at the arms of his jacket, the hem of his t-shirt, clawed at his belt buckle. A gasp left your own mouth as your fingers brushed over smooth, hot skin, abdomen twitching under your touch.

Billy tried to calm you, protesting between fierce kisses that all but bruised his mouth.

“Hey...Wait...Babe...I’m covered in blood and I haven’t showered in days...Hold on...Babe...”

He let out a surprised, muffled mmff when you kissed him almost hard enough to draw blood and finally got his arms out of his jacket. Billy was wordless as you tugged his torn and blood streaked t-shirt off over his head, leaving his blond hair tousled and his light eyes wide. You tossed it into the corner of the room before kissing a burning path down his chest and stomach; he stared as you unlaced his boots and heaved them over your shoulder, one after the other.

“Baby, seriously, what is going on?” he asked you, baffled by your onslaught even as he accepted whatever was happening was going to happen. “You’re in pajamas, darlin’, and I’m filthy. I had to - I had to shoot someone yesterday... What are you doin’?”

You still said nothing as you fought with his belt buckle until it hung open and you could drag down his zip, before taking a step back and stripping right in front of him, shimmying out of your plaid pajama pants and kicking your underwear away. Billy’s gaze dragged up from the apex of your thighs to your face just before it disappeared briefly under your pajama top, and then dropped to your newly bared chest.

He softly said your name, but it was as if you were deaf, solely focused on ridding him of his remaining clothes. He stepped out of his cutoffs obediently, still watching your face, concerned by the naked frenzy in your eyes. When you pulled his underwear down his legs, he toed them off, then looked at you again, waiting. In spite of everything, his body had responded to your need and the sight of yours exposed. He would do everything you desired and ask questions later.

He knew you well, loved you well, knew what you liked. But that didn’t in any way prepare him for you shoving him down onto the bed, against the shaky headboard. You were not pushy or dominant in lover situations, but you climbed into his lap, gripped his shoulders with bruising fingers and sank down onto him with no warning.

And then, the moment he could go no further, you slumped against his chest and sobbed, trembling hands rising to tangle in his hair. Billy’s shock subsided as he finally understood, your heat grasping onto him as tightly as your hands had just been. He felt your tears drip onto the skin of his chest and slowly stroked up and down your back, settling his chin on top of your head.

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay” he hushed you, fingertips now drawing quivering patterns over your skin. “I’m alive. I came home to you. Shh, babe, everything’s fine. I’m here. I’m right here with you. See?”

Billy leaned back slightly and tilted your chin down so you could glimpse where your body joined with his, your softness lined up perfectly with his hard.

“I’m here, darlin’. Feel this?” he murmured.

He thrust very gently up and was gratified to hear your quiet, shaking moan and feel your breasts against his chest as you collapsed again. You nudged the slope of his neck with your nose as you pushed away to look shyly at Billy, your face filling with heat as the reality of your actions caught up to you. There was a dark bruise spreading under his left eye and a shallow cut across his collarbone, all marks from the last mission. His lower lip was swollen from your teeth.

“I missed you” you told him, barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry. You weren’t ready for me to jump you like this.”

You tried to get off him, but his fingers pressed into your hips, holding you in place.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, and brushed a gentle kiss onto your lips. “Now that I’m here, I have no plans to go anywhere else.”

You threaded your fingers more slowly through his hair, palms bumping against the shaved fuzz at the back. Eyelids fluttered closed as Billy kissed you again, slow and careful, as he gently kneaded your hips and moved you over him in tiny circles. He leaned up to graze his lips against your earlobe.

“I’ve never seen you so needy for me before” he murmured, making sure not to overwhelm your already heightened senses. “It’s hot, but are you okay? You had no foreplay, nothing. You’re not in any pain?”

You shifted in his lap, testing your inner muscles for discomfort, and saw his eyes narrow with pleasure.

“No” you mumbled, splaying your hands across the backs of his shoulders. “I just -”

You cut yourself off, biting your lip in silence. Billy raised his eyebrows and lightly danced his fingertips over your inner thighs, tickling you. You squirmed, fighting back a smile.

“You just what?” he demanded, grinning. “Come on, babe, give it up already.”

You sighed.

“Want you” you admitted at last. “I just want you, Billy.”

He leaned in again and buried his face in your neck; you felt his flushed skin against your own as he wrapped his arms around your back, drawing you as close as he could.

“How do you want me, babe?” he muffled in your skin.

You closed your eyes as you felt his teeth drag across the top of your shoulder.

“Everywhere” you admitted.

Billy huffed out a laugh and bit down, eliciting a low moan and a tight twitch of your hips.

“Hold on” he warned, and you gripped him tightly, letting out a slight shriek as he raised you up a little and tipped you onto your back, your legs falling open.

In spite of how hard your muscles were grasping him, the movement had shaken him loose, and when Billy pushed back into you, your eyes rolled and he watched proudly as your jaw went slack, all heat and melting limbs.

“Missed me that bad, huh?” he panted, nosing along your jaw to your ear. “Or did you just miss this?”

He punctuated his last word by throwing his weight behind his hips, slamming so hard and deep your vision swirled black for a split second. He grinned as your breath hitched and you stammered, struggling to speak through the pleasure.

“Billy” you whined, anxious, your hands scrabbling across his back, his shoulders, desperate to gain purchase.

You finally grabbed onto his blond hair again, as he raised his head and met your gaze.

“Yeah?” he groaned. “What is it, babe? Tell me what you want.”

He watched your eyes flare and knew he was gonna be done, knew you were ruining him just as much as he was ruining you. He sat up a bit and glanced to each of his shoulders as your legs hooked over them, sinking him even deeper into you. He set his jaw tight, the blue of his eyes almost all gone.

“Harder, please” you gritted out. “All you’ve got.”

Billy couldn’t suppress the moan that tore out from deep in his chest as he did as he was bidden, each thrust sending you both nearer to oblivion. He wrapped his arms around your legs, moving harder and faster, how he knew you liked it. Sweat dripped into his eyes, but he didn’t take them off you as you shook and bowed underneath him.

“Good girl” he groaned, watching your eyelids flicker and cheeks flush at his praise. “You can take it.”

Without warning, you brought your legs down and wrapped them around his waist, changing the angle again. Billy bit his bottom lip hard as he fell against you, dragging in and out of you with slow precision.

You pulled on his hair, scraping your fingernails over his scalp as you frantically arched your hips to meet his, a fraught desire to be one with him spilling hot tears over your lashes and vining around him as tightly as you could, thighs aching as they snared his hips and battled his movements.

Then, at long last, Billy’s blunt hips slammed home and he slumped, his chest sticking to yours as you traced your fingertips down and up his spine, finally feeling full and close enough, even as his warm weight smothered you down into the mattress.

Billy breathed shakily as he eventually lifted his head to look you in the eye, his own still blown wide. He kissed you unsteadily.

“You tryin’ to kill me, woman?” he asked, smiling as you blushed.

“Sorry” you mumbled, turning your head away.

“Don’t you apologise” he chastised, kissing your cheek to tilt your head back to him.

He slowly eased out from between your thighs and sat back, his gaze straying all over you. He reached out a hand to push your damp hair back from your face.

“But I do need a shower” he remarked. “And so do you. Come on.”

Billy helped you off the bed, hiding a faint grin when you stumbled a little on quivering legs and had to lean on him.

He turned on the shower water and eased you under the hot spray, wrapping his arms around you from behind as he stepped in after. After a while, you turned in his hold to look up at him, noticed the faint pink streaks of old blood washing off his skin. There were fresh cuts on his chest and upper arms, fresh and deep enough to eventually become new scars.

He watched you examining him, could almost see your heart become heavy. He pressed a finger beneath your chin to tilt it up so you had no choice but to meet his eyes.

“Oi” he said firmly. “I’m fine. There’s nothing that won’t heal soon, I promise you. I’m okay, baby.”

You sighed and nestled into him, your cheek pressed to his chest, his chin on your head, shower water streaming down on both of you.

“Billy?”

“Yeah?”

“Have I told you lately that I love you a lot?”

He chuckled.

“Yeah, you have, babe. But I’m always happy to hear it again.”

#6 underground #6 underground fanfic #billy #four #6 underground four #billy/four x reader #four/billy x reader #liss writes #billy/four #four/billy x female reader #billy/four x female reader

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alexanderlightweight · 1 year ago

Note

For writing Wednesday: Powerful Warlock Magnus Bane pretending to be the damsel-in-distress once he realizes it gets him the attention and *ahem* personal care of one HOTI Alec Lightwood

i had a great deal of fun with this!

this verse is going to be called the most fragile of poisons

i hope you enjoy!

<3 lumine

Magnus snarls as he holds back his magic and forces himself to only destroy the demons when they get too close. He wasn’t even supposed to be here, his identity heavily protected with how tensions are in the shadowworld and when he finds out who has dared to betray him, he’s going to render them undone down to their soul.

It’s with a furious flick of his fingers that he sends spears of magic through the three demons coming towards him and then he has to bite his lip and remind himself not to simply destroy every demon and close the rift while he’s at it.

It would be so simple but Magnus has protected his identity for years for a very good reason and he won’t have it undone simple from his own impatience.

At least that is the plan until the annoyances grow and Magnus has to pretend to be flagging as tiny minor demon after demonic nuisance run at him.

There’s a moment where Magnus is about to unleash the very flames of Edom and then his magic settles at it considers the danger passed.

The three demons coming towards him fall, two with arrows and one with its throat slit from the passing of a nephilim’s wings.

It’s with surprise that Magnus watches a single nephilim land in front of him and then bend over, holding out a hand. He wasn’t expecting any of them to actually care beyond attacking the demons and it’s surprising that one had gone out of their way to supposedly save him.

“Can you stand?”

Magnus is asked gruffly, perfunctorily and he looks up, glamour down as he tries not to give in and harvest the souls suffering across the battlefield.

It’s with shock that he meets gorgeous, hazel eyes that dilate the moment their gazes meet. Wings snap instinctively around him, turning to adamas and Magnus can feel the pressure of the ichor disintegrating as the demon sneaking up on them dies.

“I can if you help me.” Magnus says coyly, smirking at the nephilim who blinks at him and whose ichor-smeared cheeks tint pink. Magnus marvels and wonders at such an innocent sight on such a battlefield as he’s practically lifted up with one hand.

Magnus’ angel is staring with a glower at the rift and his hand is gripping his hilt like he’s planning to fly and attack it himself. As amusing as it always is to watch nephilim throw themselves at rifts, Magnus rather likes this particular angel where he is.

“I can help close the rift—” Magnus says, taking a gamble and reaching out to boldly run his fingers over strong muscles. “But I don’t have enough strength.” It’s a blatant lie and Magnus waits, shocked despite his confidence when he’s slowly offered a bare hand.

“Take what you need then.” He’s told and Magnus closes the rift with an absent thought as he greedily hoards away the energy being offered to him. The taste of it is ancient and cold and it frosts his magic, cooling it down and calming it from the frenzy it’s been working into.

It’s with a sense of deep, shuddering intimacy that Magnus claims the knowledge of his angel’s first name and imparts his own. Alexander shudders as his energy is claimed and his mouth forms and whispers Magnus own name in a gasp as he gives until Magnus is somewhat sated.

“Alexander—” Magnus murmurs and he pretends to be tired as he reaches out and cups his boy’s jaw. “

“Bring this with you.” Alexander tells him, blushing and clearly trying to pretend he isn’t as he hands over one of his feathers, the softness of it a shock to Magnus’ fingertips as he reverently takes it. “None of my hunters will deny you.”

Magnus holds the feather in his hand and marvels at it and Alexander’s words. He’s held hundreds of nephilim feathers before but none have ever seemed as priceless and valuable as the one he’s holding, freely given and even sweetly so.

Nephilim feathers only remain solid like this when given as a gift or stripped from a corpse and Magnus dips deep into his soul to taste the energy he harvested and kept from Alexander. Something that will saved and cherished, until Alexander no longer has a reason to leave Magnus’ side.

—

Perhaps when he’d given it to him, Alexander hadn’t meant for Magnus to wear the feather so boldly or so obviously as he is. With his shirt open to his navel and the feather resting against his bare skin, a taunt to every single nephilim who bears witness.

It’s clearly a shock to every single shadowhunter he passes and it’s also interesting because they all clear out of his way, as if they don’t dare to stop him despite not knowing who he is.

“Magnus!” Alexander calls out with delight when he turns, eyes lighting up with surprise as he sees him. A moment later he’s ignoring his hunters to usher Magnus’ away from the command center and into his office with a glower that clears their path. “Are you okay now?” He asks, sweetly and his face relaxing into true concern as his door locks behind them. “Do you need more energy?”

Magnus is honestly shocked at the offer and despite his best efforts, he can’t stop himself from fluttering his lashes and leaning closer.

“You wouldn’t mind, Alexander?”

Alexander shakes his head quickly, as if stricken by the thought that he’d ever mind helping Magnus and he offers both of his hands freely.

“Why don’t we sit first, darling.” Magnus suggests, the pet name slipping free and Alexander hurries to escort him to the sofa and then instead of sitting next to him, Alexander kneels next to him. It’s like he’s worried of pushing too far past Magnus’ boundaries when Magnus wants to drag Alexander down into his own circle of hell.

Magnus greedily accepts Alexander’s energy and he’s ravenous to have another taste of his boy. Just as before, he hoards the energy he takes from Alexander and keeps it safe and secure, locked inside himself where Magnus’s own magic can curl around it.

There’s no need to waste it, not when Magnus has plenty of power of his own but Magnus won’t hesitate to always accept more of Alexander, until he can claim every piece of him.

“I should stop, Alexander.” Magnus murmurs after a few minutes even though he doesn’t actually stop and doesn’t want to. His boy huffs at him tiredly but stubbornly, a mulish pout on his face as he shakes his head.

“I asked you to close a rift I had no business involving you in.” Alexander murmurs, “take whatever you need Magnus, whatever you want.”

He’s slipping and he seems surprised by it, lashes fluttering and Magnus takes just enough more that Alexander is falling into a light doze. Magnus croons softly as he settles Alexander’s head in his lap and uses magic to cushion his boy’s knees. Magnus is quickly coming to realize that his Alexander is too sweet and generous to be left unsupervised. His boy would give Magnus every bit of himself without even thinking and Magnus chuckles, petting his fingers through Alexander’s hair as he thinks and he plans.

Despite being used to people cowering in front of him, there is something about Alexander’s genuine care and sincere concern that makes Magnus greedy for more.

It also makes him fiercely possessive, to ensure that no one else is being offered and tasting the same regard that Magnus is… because Alexander belongs to Magnus now.

And Magnus isn’t one to share.

#lumine writes #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #the most fragile of poisons #shadowhunters #malec #shadowhunters au #magnus bane #alec lightwood

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blender2902 · 2 months ago

Text

IN DEFENCE OF QUEEN MARIKA PART 1: THE GUIDANCE OF GRACE-

Welcome to the first part of my Elden Ring lore series where I defend Queen Marika from slander. For the past 2 and a half years she has gotten a lot of unfair shit thrown at her, most of which she never did. With this series I hope to prove that Queen Marika loves Godfrey and all her kids excluding Radahn, Rykard(cuz they are Radagon’s not hers. I do think there is something going on between her and ranni tho.) and godrick( no one does tbf). But to do that I must first analyse the guidance of grace and then refute the many allegations thrown at her due to that. I will be using logic and evidence for most of my analysis, if I see a flaw with what I provide, I will say so. If I don’t feel free to point that out.

(Disclaimer: I am not trying to say that ‘Queen Marika did nothing wrong’ as that would be stupid and a massive disservice to the writing. What I am trying to do is portray Marika's complexity using evidence that I have seen no one else use and to clear her name of the crimes she did not commit. She is objectively a bad person just like every major character in the game but just like them she is complex, except her complexity is much higher than the rest in my humble opinion. Her complexity is far more than just ‘tragic past boo hoo’ and I want to show just that with this series.)

If you have any disagreements with my logic or you see that I have missed a piece of evidence then feel free to point that out. Either my delusions break or yours do and both are a win for me! Please present your arguments pointwise though as that will make arguing a lot easier.

DEBUNKING THE GUIDANCE OF GRACE ALLEGATIONS:-

The nature of grace is left pretty vague by the game. What matters to us is, what does it tell us about Marika? I have seen many people claim that Marika has complete control over grace hence she guides us to kill her kids in cold blood to fulfil her own selfish desires. There are several factual and logical problems with this argument. For the sake of this analysis, I will do 2 things 1) Go along with the perspective that Marika has complete control over grace and where it guides us. I will prove that if this is the case, then Marika’s motives simply can’t be selfish by using logic and evidence. 2) I will give an alternate interpretation of the nature of grace based on in-game evidence. What I want to prove is that Marika loves her kids, but besides maybe Ranni, she doesn’t love the Carian demigods since they are not her own children but Radagon’s. She doesn’t love Godrick either(no one does tbf again lol).

1) Let’s go along with the narrative that Marika controls grace completely.

So the first question we must ask is why is she guiding us?

Well, the answer is clear, she wants Radagon and Elden beast to killed. Everyone can agree on that. Now, what is her motive for wanting them killed? I have seen some answers painting Marika as some Machiavellian Evil Mastermind, so let’s debunk them one by one-

She wanted to rule eternally even as a husk: Ok so, there are many holes in this answer that refute it.

1) The biggest hole is that even after we inherit the frenzied flame, we still have the guidance of grace. If she wanted to rule eternally, why would she allow someone who inherited the frenzied flame, you know the thing that fucking destroys the entire fucking world all the way down to the fucking spirits. Why in the name of fuck would anyone who wants to selfishly rule eternally ever guide the dumbass who is willing to destroy the world including her. Her guiding the tarnished even after inheriting the frenzied flame alone refutes all claims of ‘Marika had a masterplan that after Radagon and Elden beast were killed she would blah blah blah’ but I am not done destroying this line of thinking just yet. Also, don’t even try to argue ‘Oh it’s a game Mechanic not lore accurate’ as that would also apply to grace itself so you are refuting your own argument.

2) If ruling for eternity was her goal then why did she shatter the Elden Ring? She had zero fucking threats to her rule. I have legit seen someone say that she felt threatened by Miquella as he was a prime candidate to replace. Now that argument is just plain dumb because 1) Miquella had to go to the shadow lands and do a whole bunch of fucked up bullshit to himself to even be able to ascend which he was able to do only because of Mohg and we know from Freja’s questline that Miquella was doing the stuff at Mohgwyn after the battle of Aeonia, so don’t tell me that Marika got scared as fucked of what Miquella was going to do and 2) even if Miquella had gone to the shadow land and had ascended what the fuck would he do without Radahn being there. All Marika would have to do in this fictional scenario is to keep Radahn alive which would be easy considering how strong he is. 3) She can just send Malekith to kill Miquella if she felt so threatened. The other empereans were Malenia (who is loyal to Miquella and shows no interest in becoming a god) and Ranni, who is literally fucking dead. Why would she take everything down when she has nothing to feel threatened with? The only other argument I have seen for this is that Radagon was usurping her so she wanted him gone, which has the major problem of - SHE WOULD BE IN THE SAME GODDAMN POSITION AT THE END OF THIS PLAN AS SHE WOULD BE IF SHE HADN’T DONE THIS EXCEPT, SHE WOULDN’T BE FUCKING CRUCIFIED. Like ok, so she did not want to be a tool of Radagon so she instead plans on becoming a tool for the tarnished? The latter is way worse than the former because 1) she is a fucking husk and at least in the former she wouldn’t have that pain and 2) Let’s face it, 90% of us are degenerates including me and our player character would reflect that, why would anyone want us to control them. Again, all of this is assuming she even had control during Radagon’s age and was all around malicious both of which I think is untrue (I will discuss this in another post in the future).

There is a lot more I could say to refute this answer but these two points should be more than enough.

She had a plan to ascend to a higher being somehow:

1) Again, the frenzied flame argument refutes this

2) So we are just assuming that she can ascend further even though zero things say that? Yeah. I think I am done with this answer.

So, what does she want from us? I believe that she only wants us to go kill the Radagon and Elden beast. Radagon is keeping the world in purgatory via his seal whether it be by his own will or the Elden beast’s depending on your interpretation so her wanting them to be killed is not really selfish especially considering that she would also die. Now at many points in the game the light of grace guides us. What does this tell us about Marika? Let’s take a deep look.

Here is the Elden Ring map with all graces active:

UNDERGROUND:

DLC:

Let’s analyse where grace guides us and prove that Marika’s motives for each case is born out of love (even if its morally complex) and is never selfish using simple logic. I am excepting Godrick and the Carian demigods (except maybe Ranni) as I believe she is apathetic towards them. We are going from hardest to explain to easiest to explain-

DLC: I have 2 explanations here.

1) I have seen many claim that Marika just wanted Miquella killed for some self-serving reason but this just logically cannot be true. Grace stays with us even after we inherit the frenzied flame which would destroy everything including Marika and reset the world so we can’t logically argue that she has any plans for her future. Therefore, the only sensible motive for her guiding us towards Miquella is to free him from godhood. Lets look specifically at where she is guiding us in the dlc:-

Something very interesting to note here is that she only starts guiding us if we rest at the divine beast arena. She never guides us in any other open world area other than ancient ruins of rauh. If her intent from the moment we entered was to kill Miquella then we would have been guided in gravesite plains or scadu altus but no, we get guided when we kill divine beast at which point she realises what Miquella has fallen into. This suggests that she does not want us here at all but after seeing that Miquella is going to fall in the same trap as her, she makes the choice to end his suffering before it begins, for she knew better than anyone how horrible of a fate godhood truly is. This does mean she guides us towards Messmer so we can get his kindling but I do think she is doing this out of love as well. Think about how Messmer is feeling after all these centuries. The last sign of he felt from his mom were her shattering the elden ring which was seen as a sign of wrath as per the wrath from afar description. He was suffering immensely too and seeing his mom as a crucified husk would have probably made his life worse than it already was, so bringing him peace and ending his pain would be much a better fate. Now Messmer will have his own post in the future as there is a lot of stuff about him that is unfortunately not brought up enough but that is beside the point. tldr Marika loved him but circumstances forced her to seal him in the shadow realm which happened very late in the timeline, like night of the black knives late. Again, I know this sounds kinda ridiculous to most of y’all but I will make a post with all the evidence in the future where we can discuss this. Her motives just logically cannot be self-serving because if it was then she would have stopped guiding us when we inherited the frenzied flame.

2)The grace at divine beast is simply pointing towards the entrance to enir ilim leading us towards a dead end. This could have been an attempt from Marika where she tried to tell us ‘hey ya can’t reach Miquella so let’s just get out of here!’ but she unintentionally points towards Messmer. When we kill Messmer she decides its best to free Miquella from his prison as well so she starts guiding us again. The fact that its only the divine beast grace that points towards Messmer and not a single other one does, supports this argument quite well.

Pick whichever explanation you want but logically her motives here have to have been born out of love and not some selfish shit because she has no problem guiding us when we inherit the frenzied flame. Me personally, the first explanation is quite sound with logic so I would pick that but there is plenty of merit with the second one. The thing going against the second explanation for me is that I just find it kinda silly that from would just have the grace point towards messmer but have it just be for enir ilim. Like important details like that being mistakes is just not it. Nonetheless the second interpretation is logically valid as we can see it as a desperate attempt from Marika trying to save her son but end up doing the opposite so feel free to think that way.

Caria Manor: Sorry for the low-quality pic-

So, Marika guides us towards caria manor which is where Ranni resides. Now I have heard some people say that she guides us here to get a great rune, but that cannot be true since Ranni is stated to have cast her great rune aside. Now something very interesting to note here, is that the site of grace that appears when you give Ranni the fingerslayer blade guides us towards Renna’s rise where we can continue her questline. This would mean Marika supports Ranni’s goals. Now I know you will say that I dug myself a grave because this ‘proves that Marika planned Godwyn’s murder’ but no my friend I did not. I will go in depth about the night of the black knives in the future but I will leave a few explanations here- 1) Marika supports Ranni’s goals even if she killed Godwyn. Marika very much holds resentment against Ranni for killing Godwyn but she realises that Ranni does have the right end goal so she is willing to have us help her. 2) Even in the scenario where Marika did help Ranni in stealing destined death, what says the goal was to kill Godwyn? Nothing, from what I can tell and motive wise, this falters a lot too. What could have been the end goal was for Ranni to steal the rune of death so that Marika could use that to kill herself but the assassins double crossed them. 3) Maybe Marika doesn’t even want us to help Ranni but kill her instead which would be really funny cuz most ER players ended up marrying her lol.

I will make a future post that will debunk the Godwyn allegations so I will ask that if any of you wish to refute this post, leave out this particular section.

Church of the plague: sorry again for low quality pic-

So why does Marika guide us towards church of the plague? Well, the simplest explanation is that she is not guiding us towards that church, but toward Radahn. If she was guiding us towards Millicent, we first have to assume that she even knows about her in the first place which is a bit of a stretch if you ask me. Now we can definitely argue that Marika is trying to use Millicent to get to Malenia as Millicent leads us towards castle sol. I will explain that is the next point about castle sol.

Castle Sol: Sorry again for low quality pic

So, she guides us towards the secret medallion in castle sol. I have seen people say that ‘Marika wants us to kill Malenia so we can get her great rune but that makes zero fucking sense when you consider the fact that when you reach this point in the game, you do not need any more great runes. If she really wanted us to get all great runes then why does she not guide us towards Mohg in Mohgwyn palace?

Simple, she does not want us to kill Malenia nor Mohg. If try to argue by saying that ‘Oh she doesn’t know about Mohgs palace’ don’t, because my guy, she starts guiding us towards Ranni after she disappears from her tower and she immediately guides us towards Miquella after finding out what he is upto. She is shown many times to actively react to what is happening in the present so if we were to discover Mohgwyn and her motive was for us to take all great runes then she would immediately guide us towards Mohg the moment we touched a grace over there but no, she does not which refutes all claims of her wanting us to slay all her demigods. Now begs the question, what does she want from us getting the secret medallion? Well, we have a few answers- 1) This could be another Ranni situation where she thinks Miquella can succeed her properly and she wants us to help him out but she realises that it’s too late for him. 2) Gideons dialogue does seem to suggest that Marika knew that Miquella got kidnapped so maybe she hoped we could help him but we know what Miquella was up to. Again, like I have said multiple times before, this will require a post of its own but the point is that Marika’s motives here just can’t be selfish as all the logic and evidence says otherwise.

Leyndell and Morgott: Same thing as with Messmer, Morgott was defending the capital for a very long time which caused him a lot of suffering. Marika just wanted him to be at peace after everything. It is very, very important to mention that Godfrey was likely also being guided at around the same time as us which I will elaborate on late in this post.

Castle Morne: I guess she guides us here to get stronger cuz that is the only logical explanation.

The rest either guide us towards a shardbearer who Marika does not really care much about.

Another very important point to mention in this discussion that supports my stance of Marika actually loving her kids- Vyke and Godfrey. Vyke was a tarnished guided by grace and is stated to have almost become elden lord but failed due to frenzied flame bullshit. Now he somehow got to the point of the forge of the giants without killing any of the demigods. This flat out tells us that Marika tried her best to help her kids live but her attempts were met with failure as seen with Vyke. But at the same time she guides us, she is also guiding Godfrey. Godfrey would definitely come to peaceful agreements with Morgott letting him live. This means that even after Vyke failed, Marika still tried her best to save her kids it seems. Unfortunately, we were just faster than Godfrey. In Godfrey’s cutscene, we see that his grace guides him towards us. Now what does this say to us? Let’s logically break it down. Is Marika trying to see which one of us is stronger so she gets the best chance to be freed? Well, this makes little sense logically speaking. Her goal is to be freed, so it’s best to have both Godfrey and the player kill Radagon and Elden Beast together instead of doing a dumb battle royale which might result in failure. Like at least send them one by one to weaken Radagon and Elden beast for the other. So logically Marika is not being calculated over here which means emotions are at play. The only way this makes sense is if Marika wants Godfrey specifically to come and rescue her. Looking at Godfreys cutscene and the Ashen Capital site of graces, I find it quite odd that Marika seemingly stops guiding us when we release destined death but then Godfrey is immediately guided towards us. This is, in my opinion, a very strong clue that Marika wants Godfrey over the tarnished.

Ok, done with the first perspective.

2)An alternate interpretation of grace-

So, if we go kill the final boss of the base game, we kill Radagon which in turn kills Marika also. Now if we go light a grace that gives guidance after this, it still gives us guidance. This does seem to suggest that grace works independently to Marika even though she is the one who gives it. Now the reasoning can definitely be chalked up to gameplay reasons but that can also be applied to every site of grace so that the argument goes both ways. There is another thing that suggests grace works independently to Marika-

The other tarnished called by grace seem to be following their own path that does not really lead to lordship. Fia, Dung eater and Goldmask seem to be doing things that don’t really lead to them becoming Elden Lord.

This suggests that grace does not necessarily guide all the tarnished to become elden lord but instead towards their ambition. This seems to check out with everyone- the player and aspiring lord, Godfrey wanting his wife back, Fia doing shit with Godwyn, Dung eater eating shit and Goldmask moving his fingers. There is a distinct possibility that Marika does not have complete control over grace at all. Now having said all this, we can explain the behaviour of all the tarnished using logic but I don’t think that is necessary for what I am trying to prove.

Conclusion:

If you have read this post thoroughly, you should either agree with what I am saying about Marika’s motivations or concluded that the nature of grace is left too vague to come at any solid conclusions. Either option is good enough for me. Like I said earlier, if you disagree I am more than happy to discuss with you, when I get the time(life has been quite busy for me the past month🥲). The point of my blog is to create an environment where we can have proper discussions about the lore whilst being friendly. We can disagree without having to tear each other's throats out.

I have some more work to do irl so it will take some time before I post again or reply to anyone so I just wanted to post. Once my irld work is done I will become a lot more active here. Have a great rest of your life to all who see this post!

#elden ring #queen marika the eternal #queen marika #marika the eternal #elden ring marika #I am guessing my next post will be in 2 weeks lol. Time to make a tag for this #zeromarikaslander #I will love to see other people disagree so we can have a nice discussion.#Didn't feel like posting this on reddit because I only post lore findings there not necessarily logical analysis.#I only started analysing a month ago lol

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lottiecrabie · 2 years ago

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you should totally write about Pfms!matty and reader trying cockwarming maybe with a little bit of hurt/comfort 🤲🏻🤲🏻 Because I know that he is great at comfort sex 100% aha 🤲🏻🤲🏻 🏃🏻‍♀️

not the specified comfort everyone lives in fear of lottiecrabie pfms angst😭 you guys have no faith in me😔😔☝️

ok but i see it like reader is still feeling somewhat self-conscious and guilty about sex, even if deep down she knows she shouldn’t be. it’s better than when they started this thing, but after particularly abstinence-preaching sermons, she always gets afraid again of her sins and of being forsaken.

somehow, the worst part is that she can’t stop herself. she recites purity scriptures while thoughts of matty fucking her spin inside her head. it’s more than a want now, it’s a need. she doesn’t know how to control herself.

she never tells matty any of this because she doesn’t want to hurt him. she knows now that he takes it personally when she starts spitting out all her learnings. really, how else can he take it when he’s the one tempting her? so she stays quiet and lets it fester inside of her.

matty, obviously, is not so easily fooled. he knows all her moods and can tell when something’s wrong. he broaches the subject while they’re studying in his room, but she just waves away his concerns, swearing she’s fine.

her nose is stuck inside her book, clearly avoiding making eye contact with him for fear it might trigger something. tears, or truth, or just plain desire. better to ignore— that’s what her mother always says.

matty sighs beside her, taking her by the hand, tugging her to sit on his lap. he holds both of her cheeks, watching her intensely, trying to decipher all the secrets she swallows down. she bites her lip, feeling a flicker of flame inside of her just from the proximity to him. she can’t stop. he’s under her skin.

‘what’s going on?’ he asks, racking through her hair. she shakes her head, hiding inside his neck, gently kissing it. ‘is it about… sex?’ she freezes in his arms. she shakes her head again, but it’s too late. matty knows. ‘so it is. do you still… feel guilty?’

he sounds so vulnerable. she wants to tear her skin off. trying to change his mind, to heal some wound she’s creating at this very moment, to show she doesn’t feel guilty even as the emotion grips her guts, she starts tugging at his jeans with a frenzy. her nimble fingers are expert at undressing him now; she’s unmaking him as he tries to halt her.

‘i’m fine,’ she swears, still refusing to look at him as she strokes him and she flips her skirt. ‘see? i’m completely fine.’

‘angel, wait…’

she ignores, lowering herself on his cock. they both gasp, moaning at the sudden feeling of fullness. she closes her eyes. every time they meet, there’s a momentary feeling of rightness. maybe that’s what she really craves, after all. being good.

she goes to roll her hips, but matty halts her. she frowns at him, finally locking eyes with him. ‘what’s really going on?’ his stare penetrates her, pinning her down. there’s no worming herself out of this.

‘i’m just—‘ she sighs. ‘god, it’s silly,’ she tries to laugh off, to move her hips, but he won’t let her.

it’s sinfully delicious torture, having him so deep inside of her yet completely still. her core clenches, desperate for friction, for relief, but something in her enjoys the suspended moment of time. she’s complete. with him, she’s complete.

when he’s clearly not budging, although he definitely seems tempted to when he a low groan slips from his lips as she throbs around him, she finally admits, ‘i don’t want to feel this way. i know rationally that it’s not wrong to have sex, or whatever. i just—‘ she huffs. ‘it’s hard to remember sometimes.’

matty’s eyes warm. ‘okay,’ he says, gentle, rubbing her hip. ‘then let’s remember.’

and so she sits on his cock, perfectly still except for the minute shifts when her knees grow sore in their position, and recites all the scriptures she’s been forcefully tattooed on her brain. and then matty has her counter them, repeat all the arguments he’s given her over the weeks.

every time she gets one right, he gives her a little reward. a kiss on the cheek, on the forehead, on the lip. a pinch of a nipple, a circle on her clit, even a small, indulgent roll of her hips. soon, her cheeks are flushed as she pants out refutes to purity. she practically drips on him, end of her sentences finishing in moans as she clenches around him. her limbs are burning with unquenchable need.

and when she’s so desperate for it she thinks she might go mad from it, matty whispers in her neck, ‘do you feel guilty?’

she practically cries, ‘no, no. fuck no.’

he smiles, pleased. rolls her on the bed, laying on top of her. fucks into her. her head rolls, gripping his shoulders, biting her tongue to stop herself from screaming his name. finally.

‘you’re good,’ he whispers in her ear, finding her clit. ‘you’re so fucking good. aren’t you?’ she nods, moaning. she’d agree to anything he said. ‘say it.’

she gasps, opening her eyes. ‘i’m good.’

he grins some more, victorious and proud. ‘that’s it. my sweet angel.’ he kisses her. ‘my good little girl.’

she smiles, languid and pleased as her climax washes over her. i’m good. i’m good.

#lottiecrabie hurt/comfort a rare sight🫡#pray for my soul #ask #blurb #smut

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eris-snow · 1 year ago

Text

𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐨 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭

Tags: Deku's birthday series 2023, izuku x fem!reader, angst

The boy who’d you’d write letters to, short and sweet secrets you’d keep between the two of you.

I had a weird dream. Can we talk about it? I think it has something got to do with you.

-Izuku

“Kacchan!” Izuku cried, glancing around him frantically. Trees loomed all around him, lush greenery making every way he turned to look the same.

“Kacchan!”

Birds were chirping, cicadas screeching as he wandered through the forest while tears brim in his eyes.

How was he going to get home?

Was he going to be lost forever?

What if he—

Izuku tripped over a tree branch and yelped, falling face-first into a couple of bushes. Falling straight through with a cry, he hits the grass with a soft thud, tears finally bubbling over the low dam keeping his emotions at bay.

“Hey!” Someone called out, making him whip behind so fast he thought he’d broken his neck. His tears dry up almost immediately at the sound of a human voice.

Their face is blurry, like someone had taken a black crayon and scribbled their face out of the picture.

Izuku’s puffy red eyes make them chuckle before they put a finger on their lips. “Someone’s going to hear you, y’know. If you do that, that’ll ruin my secret clearing.”

“Who are you?” Izuku croaked, bruised by his fall.

The person shakes their head, sticking out a hand to him. “I’m—”

The cicadas shriek even louder, volume rising higher than the person’s voice. It morphs into a shrill, long ring, and the green-haired’s eyes shut at the ear-piercing sound, and discomfort, trying to focus on the person’s voice.

The alarm blaring makes Izuku shoot up from his bed, eyes snapping open. They’re frenzied, wild, and disoriented, and when he clenches his shirt, he can hear his heart pounding in his ears.

A tear slips down his face.

What the hell was that?

“Katsuki told me he’d join us,” You say the moment you get to the rooftop, throwing him an isotonic drink. You have another clutched in your hands, which you keep in your grasp. “You know, for your birthday. I don’t know why he told me, though. Didn’t you ask him?”

He catches it reflexively. “I texted him,” He corrected absentmindedly, eying the bottle like it was going to burst. “He left me on read.”

“Sounds like typical Katsuki,” you shrug, opening your bottle.

“If this thing explodes in my face, I’ll blame it on you,” Izuku warns, fingering the cap dangerously. “I don’t have an extra set of clothes, and there’s no way that I’m running to the dorms and back for laundry.”

“Oh, please, stop being dramatic. You could run there and back in less time than Kaminari can add 1+1.” You sigh. Green eyes meet yours, and that’s when you realise: Something’s not right.

“What’s up with that look? Does it have something to do with my note yesterday?”

“Yes and no.” He drawls inattentively, eyes pinned to the ground. “Well, I guess you could say that it is, since you’ve been writing really cryptic messages lately….not that I mind or anything! I’m just concerned, is all. As a friend! I hate it whenever you feel bad. But I got a weird dream yesterday and it’s living in my mind rent-free now. I don’t know what it’s supposed to mean, or who it’s about, but for some reason, I feel like it’s got something to do with you. Every time I think about it now, though, it just gets fuzzier. I tried to pen it down and everything—”

“Zuku, you’re rambling,” You remind him gently, placing a hand on his hand to get him to stop. As fast as lightning, he retracts his hand and mumbles out a flustered apology, and it pulls your lips down into a frown. You backtrack to what he said, and you try to squash the flame of hope that had kindled at the bottom of your heart. Dreams? Does this mean—?

“It’s just—I don't know! They started the day after the Villain Attack. I can’t remember them, but—” he breaks off, head throbbing. “There’s always a feeling there. And it’s always the same one I get when I’m with you.”

Your voice hitches, digesting the new information. You hesitate for a second, wondering if you should push the barriers of the quirk. The last few times you’d tried to introduce the idea of the Quirk Accident to him too quickly, he reacted badly to it. Whether it was physical denial…or the Quirk’s side effects.

“You have two options: The helpful one, or the fun one. Choose now.” You demand.

Izuku raises his eyebrow. “What’s the fun one?”

“Are you choosing the fun one?”

“That depends,” He says thoughtfully. “If it’s something I don’t like, can I open this in your face?”

“Hell no!” You bark, relaxing slightly. At least he was feeling well enough to crack jokes.

“I’ll choose the fun one,” He sighs, running a hand through his messy green hair.

You’re off like a bullet train. “Zuku, have you seen…memories? Of things, you never remembered happening?”

You talk about it, and you carefully ease a couple of your childhood into the mix, just to gauge his reaction.

The minute he stops to clutch his head, you put your story on pause.

“You good?” You ask, a concerned arm being placed on his shoulder.

“Yeah, j-just…headache,” He smiles at you weakly, but you bite your lip in regret, your mood turning sour. You know what this means.

This conversation was over.

“I’ll meet you back in class.” You say, standing up. You find yourself staring at him in the eyes, taking the time to fully appreciate the recognition and understanding in his eyes…before turning away. “Drink that before you get back.”

The moment you’re gone, Izuku’s headache soothes. The twinge in his heart, however, doesn’t go away. Sighing, he opens the bottle away from his face.

The foam spills on the ground, overflowing past the lid. He can’t help but think of how well that described his emotions pooling out of him now.

You loved Izuku for your entire life. It wasn’t always in a romantic way, but because of his ever-present existence in your life, it made it difficult not to like him.

There was no one incident that made you realise you liked the broccoli head, but the Quirk Accident had caused your feelings to evolve without you realising it. It was a daily thing. Simple things like his sweet smile, his beautiful, expressive green eyes, and how genuine he was in a world full of liars.

He’d never hide a thing from you, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. Izuku used to be as transparent as glass, even though he isn’t like that in public anymore.

Izuku was there in all phases of your life in one way or another, tied by what you might call fate.

Time and time again, you reintroduced yourself with a smile to an Izuku that didn’t know you.

You’ve done it several times now, and it hurts like someone had cracked your ribcage.

It hurts to be near him, but it hurts even more to be away.

And you’ve learnt that each time he forgets you, you’d come back to him again, even though it cut like diamond shards.

You realised that at the young age of 10.

You only discovered it was something larger than platonic feelings in your 13th year on the planet.

When you hear him talk so excitedly about his dreams that you’ve heard a thousand times over.

When you get to reintroduce the clearing to him again, when you get to call him Zuku again, when he renames you as Starlight…

Shit, you laugh to yourself, when he calls you Starlight once more. I like him.

Secrets tumble out in the form of childish Post-it notes.

I like your eyes.

I like the nickname.

I wish you knew.

That was the only way.

To convey how you felt, to communicate your feelings to him…could only be done in the form of Secrets.

I like your kindness, even though it causes people to take advantage of you sometimes. P.s. I hope your headache feels better. I’m a door away if you wanna talk.

#mha #mha fanfiction #deku x reader #izuku x y/n #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #bnha midoriya #midoriya x y/n #Deku's birthday series 2023

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localcuttlefish · 1 year ago

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My sona started out as a DBD oc, it progressed from fandom to fandom and now I have a large group of them. They all have the same name with very minor differences. Tempted to make a FAITH one too!

Your oc Issac is so cool! How would he react around other characters like Gary or Garcia?

First of all, let’s go!! Weird OC/Sona fandom progression gang!! We out here!!

I’m glad you think he’s cool! I promise you he’s actually so pathetic it’s insane; literally God’s most profound soggy loser

Every time someone asks me about my OCs I crack open Pandora’s box, and by Pandora’s box I mean my notes app to write out a fucking wall of text. In the best possible outcome, Isaac and Father Garcia don’t interact very much. Not because they dislike one another, but because there aren’t many opportunities for them to interact in the first place. The only time they would really meet face to face is if Isaac survives with John through the Daycare Center long enough to see Garcia save John by shooting Gary.

Garcia would likely demand Isaac doesn’t follow John into The Crucible because of Isaac’s profound connection to demonic powers, and sending Isaac into The Crucible would be bringing Isaac closer to Gary, which is the last thing they need. All that established, Isaac would help Garcia defend the entrance to The Crucible, until Isaac can no longer resist the call of the void behind him. Being that Garcia values courage and resilience in the face of danger, Isaac would likely lose Garcia’s respect once he succumbs to the terror. What Isaac wouldn’t mention to Garcia, though, is that the prophetic visions he had as a child in the Daycare Center aligned with the events playing out in front of him. Isaac would know that he’d have to torch something or someone in The Crucible. A crucible is, after all, a place for fire and molten metal. This is where he’s supposed to be.

The Crucible was actually what Isaac’s vision of the “Holy Spirit” stemmed from. The core of his prophetic visions. Isaac would not be able to see John and Miriam fighting, but he would see vicious figments of hellish fire and uncanny faces, hallucinations of places in the past, and visions of the people who corrupted him to the point of madness. This is the unearthly horrors’ last ditch effort to frighten Isaac away from helping John, a last ditch effort to scare him into submission. In this frenzy, he would pick up a torch off the wall to defend himself from these visions, unaware of the fact that he is hallucinating. What breaks the hallucinations is when he hears John demand to be given the torch. He can recognize the color of John’s voice through the horror. Isaac does him one better and, in his holy delusion, lights John’s damn hand on fire (a win is a win?), and John transfers the flame to Miriam.

Only after John completes the exorcism of Amy Martin would Isaac have another opportunity to interact with Father Garcia. All things considered, Garcia would probably snap at him for running to The Crucible, but in an ideal setting, John would defend Isaac and explain what happened. Isaac and Father Garcia would likely remain on neutral terms at that point, being that yes, Isaac did succumb to what Garcia believes is fear, but because of that, Miriam was defeated.

Give it a little more time, and Garcia would probably understand why John is adamant on defending Isaac. Maybe John sees in Isaac what Garcia sees in John. He’d slowly start to understand. Father Garcia would probably keep his distance (what with the whole holy war going on) though, but Isaac would still reach out every now and then. May as well extend an olive branch once in a while, even if Garcia chooses to ignore it.

Once in a blue moon, though, Isaac might spot Garcia at smaller concert venues Among The Bloodied is playing at. It’s never the venues or concerts Isaac informs him of, though, so Isaac has no clue how Garcia finds out about where the band is playing. Among The Bloodied isn’t hugely well known, and Garcia doesn’t seem like the type to know his way around a computer. Isaac’s asked John before if John is the one who tips Garcia off, but John adamantly denies it. Every time Isaac tries to catch Garcia after a show to speak with him, Garcia is nowhere to be found.

As for interactions with Gary?

: )

I think that’s gonna need it’s own separate post. Stay tuned!

#faith airdorf #faith game #faith the unholy trinity #john ward #local cuttlefish is drawing again #faith oc #beelzefest #faith chapter 3 #father garcia #oc: Isaac Chandler

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chaibewriting · 2 years ago

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BEG FOR IT! ft. pro-hero! ken takagi (rock lock) x afab! fem! pro-hero! poc reader

-> NOTES: do be warned that i have no idea how to write for rock lock since there’s not much about his personality so bare with me on this, i hope you enjoy it anyways. this was requested an interesting lil’ human, i hope this is all that you imagined it to be.

-> WARNINGS: public nudity, public sex, chastity belt (m. wearing).

EVERYTHING was perfect. You’d made sure of it. You’d laid everything out on your shared bedroom and were just waiting for your husband’s arrival. To put it simply, this was your form of punishing him for having missed your wedding anniversary, however, he wasn’t aware that he was going to be punished yet. Just the thought of having things go your way made you all the more giddy, you were even more excited when you heard the front door knob jiggle and shake, indicating that the soon-to-be tortured man was finally home.

You sat pretty atop your bed, one leg crossed over the other, waiting for Ken to enter the bedroom, and when he did, he stood in the doorway, looking over you with a raised eyebrow. You were still wearing your hero costume, and as much as he loved seeing the way it fit on you, he was a little confused about why you hadn’t changed. His eyes then drifted towards the strange big black box that sat on the bed beside you. He was the type to jump to conclusions with how observant and quick he was but he had no idea what was going on inside of your head at the moment.

And so, you spoke first. “Welcome home, baby. How was your patrol?” You asked, though you could already tell that he was feeling a bit of the stress from work. “… It was alright. You gonna tell me what this is about, keychain?” He asked, the petname leaving his lips like the millions of other times he’s said it and it almost, yes, almost made you rethink your punishment for him. However, you still held strong, wanting to exact your own version of revenge on him, and you would get it no matter what.

“I know you don’t like to beat around the bush or sugarcoat things so—“ You grabbed the box beside you and dropped it on your lap, sliding the top off and tossing it behind you so that it landed on the bed with a light bounce. Inside of it, placed elegantly atop a white silk fabric, was a cock cage other known as a chastity belt, big enough to fit his well-endowed third leg. Afterwards, you began your brief explanation. “You missed our anniversary, my love, and that means— you’ve got to earn the right to release or stay locked for as long as I want. It’s a fitting punishment, don’t you think?”

And before you could get a verbal answer from him, you had already activated your quirk, zooming around him within the small confines of your room. In no time at all, you had stripped him completely and put the chastity belt on his soft cock in a matter of milliseconds, locking it in place. Oh the irony. You then sat back where you were, resuming the position you’d been in, this time with a key ring around your finger that had the key to the belt dangling from it.

Since your quirk allowed you to move at the speed of light so long as you were exposed to a source of light (even as small as a flame), he was unable to keep up with your movements (just like most villains and heroes), which, in turn, left him defenseless to your punishment for the time being. “Doll, is this really necessary you coulda just made me sleep on the couch or somethin’. This seems pretty damn excessive.” He complained, and he had every right to, especially with the way the cage was squeezing around him. The cold metal on his shaft was sending him into the tiniest bit of a frenzy, and it was a borderline death sentence if he managed to get hard while wearing this stupid ass contraction. He could stop things in place, hell, he could stop you from moving if he touched your clothes in the right places, but you were too fast for him to do such a thing, maybe if he caught you off-guard—

“Listen, I booked a hotel that’s within walking distance from here. Meet me on the roof of Koji Hotel, and if I see fit, I’ll let you out. But if you come on your way there, or if you get caught— which I know you won’t, you’ll have to stay locked in. And oh don’t even think of chickening out, I know you can’t ignore a challenge, and the idea excites you… Just look at your dick, I can see it twitch all the way from here. Ah, and one more thing— no clothes allowed, personally I’d say seeing you like this is quite a treat. Others should be able to experience what I’m experiencing too.~” You mused, your eyes glued on his gloriously caged, veiny cock that was just begging for attention. You licked your lips and then mentally slapped yourself. No! Not yet, Y/N! Calm the fuck down.

After your little speech, Ken looked over you, taking note of the way you were eyeing his nude body while licking your lips. Huh. You seemed even more excited about this then he (secretly) was. Though, of course, he had to at least act like the voice of reason, even in all his shame. “Seriously? I could get arrested for public indecency. Do you /want/ me to go to jail?” You smiled cheekily at him and then daringly shot forward, pecking him on the lips before moving back out of his reach again, this time going towards your bedroom window.

“Oh, my love, I already know you won’t get caught, you’re quite a resourceful man, that’s one of the things I love about you.~ You’ve got fifteen minutes to get to me.” You dangled the key for him to see and then slipped it onto one of the pockets on your hero costume. “Show me how well your hero training’s been working for you, this challenge should be a piece of cake for you, hm?~ I’ll make it all worth it if you do /exactly/ as I say… See ya!” You then opened the window and jumped out, using your quirk to speedily and easily run up walls and make your way to the hotel roof nearby.

The pro hero stood there, he was usually quite quick on his feet, but at the moment he was still stunned about what had just unfolded. You sneaky little— He couldn’t help but smirk. You really were something, weren’t you? Were you really expecting him to actually go through with this?

…

Why the fuck was he doing this? Why, god, why? Maybe some part of him buried deep, deep down within the pits of his soul was turned on by the sense of danger and the chance that he could be caught. Maybe he got off on he thought of someone besides you seeing him like this. His muscular torso, lightly littered in hair that matched the curl pattern on top of his head, along with an array of scars on his body, and his toned legs… not to mention his soft eight inch dick that seemed to swing with each step, the metal hitting against his leg which reminded him just how /caged/ in he truly was. He was currently ducked into an alley, hiding behind a dumpster. Fuck, was he INSANE?! He was starting to think he was.

Alright, he could do this. No clothes were allowed, but you didn’t mention anything else, maybe he could find something useful around here. And to his luck, his eyes landed on a pair of trash cans with metal tops, perfect for covering the front and the back. He had already gotten a little closer to the hotel, all he needed to do was sneak around a tad bit, use his quirk, and propel himself up onto the roof where you would no doubt be waiting for him—

“Hey mommy, what’s that guy doing behind the dumpster over there?” “Oh good lord— don’t look, Okuyasu! C’mon!”

Ah fuck. He needed to move, and move quick before he ended up getting caught up and he did not want to explain any of his freaky, personal shit to the media. With determination and a new spark of motivation, he hurried his way over to the trash cans, snatched the lids from their place, used them to cover his body. He then glanced around at his surroundings yet again, taking note that the street was a little less busy with civilians but nonetheless still had a good handful of people roaming around. And it was getting a tad bit on the darker side thanks to the sun being nearly set completely so he’d use this to his advantage, thank gods he still had his shoes on. He got into position and ran, if someone didn’t know any better, they would have thought he had some kind of speed enhancing quirk with how fast he ran, the sound of metal clacking around covering the sound of his heavy footsteps. He had to stop himself from audibly groaning with the way the cage was moving around on his cock, he’d already ended up semi-hard /somehow/, he’d be an idiot if he ended up with a hard-on while wearing this thing. He needed to get it off, and get off, you were in for a punishment of your own.

By the skin of his teeth, he’d just barely made it to the other alleyway across the street— which was exactly where he needed to be. He could only hope no one was watching him now as he used his quirk to start climbing upwards into the air with the use of the trash can lids, suspending and unfreezing the lids in the air in place as he traveled upwards until he could jump onto the roof. From there, he was able to properly roof dash, seeing where you were from a distance.

You watched him from where you stood, an eager grin on your face as you watched him carefully maneuver his way around until he landed on the roof top where you were. You’d made sure to get him some clothes before making your departure, figuring you’d be at least a little considerate of his circumstances.

As he approached you, he stood directly in front of you. He was glaring at you like he didn’t like the exhilarating rush of running around naked for anyone and everyone to see. “Ah, look at that, you made it.~ Did you cum without me?” You asked, watching as he tossed the trash lids aside, ignoring the crashing sound that came from them connecting with the concrete roof top. He completely ignored your question and spoke up. “You woulda liked that, wouldn’t ya have? Hurry up and unlock it. I’m startin’ to chafe.” You grinned at him, as devious as ever. “Beg for it.” You could have sworn you saw his eye twitch at that and you had to stop yourself from bursting into laughter.

While you were too busy trying to keep your sides from splitting, your oh-so-lovely husband snuck up on you and touched your leg, arm, and chest, effectively deadlocking the most mobile parts of your hero suit. In doing this, he effectively had you frozen in place, a smirk appearing on his face as he looked at your bewildered expression. Of course, you could have phased through your clothing with ease, but that would have left you naked as well… Wait— was that his plan???

“You sneaky man. Are you really that eager to cum? C’mon baby, all you had to do was ask me politely and I would have done it for you easily. I was even gonna suck your dick right here on the rooftop.” You pouted, watching as he began to pat you down, attempting to find where you had put the key to the chastity belt. You playfully moaned when he gave your thighs a few firm squeezes, huffing after hearing the soft jingle of metal. Ah, man, he found the key. As much as you wanted to unlock it for him, you were deadlocked in place so you really had no way out of this situation without falling for his trap or begging him to let you out. Oh how the turns table.

You soon heard the sound of metal hitting the ground beneath you, eyeing the man who stood in front of you now completely naked, aside from his shoes. At that point you thought it was time to say something, anything really. As you watched him take the bag from your hand, moving his hand around inside of it, a grin spread out across your face when he pulled out a cropped shirt and a single sock. Ken looked absolutely flabbergasted. You couldn’t contain the laughter that soon followed. God, you really were an evil thing.

“Oh. You think this is funny, huh?” He questioned, squinting at you and your predicament. It seemed like the two of you were now on equal playing field, but you couldn’t help but to continue grinning rather sinisterly. Your laughter continued for a few more seconds before you finally answered him. “Oh honey, you know me, I love playing games, and wasn’t this such a good de-stresser? I’m a genius, I know. Now… can you release my suit?” Ken stared at you intently for a moment, observing your expression before a grin of his own slowly broke across his face. “Beg for it.”

#x reader #x poc reader #bnha #mha #bnha x poc reader #mha x poc reader #rock lock x reader #rock lock x poc reader #rock lock #ken takagi #ken takagi x reader #ken takagi x poc reader #black writer #— chai’s requests. !!

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wardenred · 1 year ago

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Angstober 1: Honorbound

Well, I've had my short break—let's start catching up on another month-long journey! I may or may not use the Angstober prompt to explore this new-ish plot bunny in multiple directions. We shall see.

Coming back home from the rain, I expect a tranquil evening with my nieces: dinner by the crackling fire, an hour or two playing chess with Alita afterward while Norra entertains us with run-on commentary on whatever book has captured her attention last. Instead, I am greeted by half of the manor’s stuff huddled in the entrance hall, pale-faced and wide-eyed.

The sight transports me right back to the big fire from a decade ago. Yet this time, no flames dance on the walls. Nobody’s dying.

Gods, I hope nobody is dying.

“What happened?” I ask, tugging off my gloves. Hopefully, whatever the problem is, magic can solve it. My skills are undeniably rusty, but stress has always been my best motivator. Especially if it affects the people under my care.

The servants look helplessly at me, at each other, at the floor that, now that I think of it, has been polished a little too well. I never thought it should be a necessity to see my reflection in the parquetry.

Finally, the butler steps forward. “My lord, there’s— Um, that is— Well—” I will my eyebrows to stay down. Khosh has always been the most eloquent person in this house. My father used to despise him for it. “You have a—a visitor.”

“In the library,” one of the maids blurts, and immediately covers her mouth with both hands.

I want to frown, to tell them they’re all acting ridiculous, to demand explanations. That’s what my father would do.

I am not my father.

I shrug off my wet cloak and hand it to Khosh when I pass him. “I shall see to it.” Whatever it is.

My footsteps echo on the slippery floor, and I grimace when I realize I’m trudging dirt over the impeccable surface. Outside, the rain intensifies, pounding against the windows like it wants to break in. Thunder rumbles in the distance. The last hour of sunlight we were supposed to get is clearly lost to the storm.

This is turning into a scene from one of those novels Norra especially loves to mock. The ones about destitute young ladies finding shelter in crumbling manors and experiencing the promptly falling in love with the cursed lord who harbors too many dark secrets.

But this is my manor. I am not cursed, nothing here is crumbling, and I certainly have no dark secrets that might threaten me.

Or so I believe, until I swing open the doors of the library and a man with the warmest brown eyes rises from my chair by the fireplace.

I stop in my tracks. My heart follows suit before it bursts into a frenzied gallop. I fear that he can hear it, that throbbing, painful beat in my ribcage.

For a long moment, we stare at each other. He’s smiling; I should, too, but the best I can hope for is keeping half my astonishment off my face. He shouldn’t be here. There is no logical reason for his presence. No ruler comes chasing the recluse that got away, not after ten long years. Moreover, in his own words, he never held that much regard for me.

A crack of lightning cuts open the gloomy sky outside. They say the sky's electricity has the power to reanimate the dead. Something about it certainly jolts my mind back into action.

“Your Majesty.” My back protests against the courtly bow—likely out of sheer spite. It’s been months since my injuries last bothered me, even in rainy weather. “I must confess the shock of your presence is nothing short of staggering.”

“It surprises me you’re surprised.” He takes a step closer. “You haven’t been responding to my letters. I had to come.”

The statement makes no sense. No matter my personal feelings, I always respond to any correspondence received from the capital and crown. I’m bitter, not suicidal.

“I’m afraid I genuinely don’t know what letters you speak of, Your Majesty.”

I search his face for signs of mistrust or anger, but he merely nods, pursing his lips tight. I notice that his golden hair is damp; he must have been caught in the rain, too. This should put us on equal footing, but I only grow more conscious of all the water dripping down from my soaked clothes.

“You haven’t received them, then. Things are worse than I thought.” The King’s eyes light up again. “Oh, well. We’ve always been good at tackling impossible challenges together, haven’t we, Rythan?” The distance between us shrinks when he takes another step; I fight the urge to flinch back. “I hope there are no pressing matters in your province, for I expect you to accompany me back to the court. We can take your girls with us if you wish, provided you’ve been passing your talents onto them.”

His order—for that’s what it is, regardless of his amiable tone—sinks in slowly. I want to refuse, of course. His very presence steers up the kind of emotions I viscerally detest. This province here needs me more than he ever did. His court is a vicious viper nest I should never like to set foot in again.

But he’s not just a shard of my past; he’s my king, and I am a lord of his kingdom, honorbound to serve in whatever capacity he determines.

I can’t fully swallow my pride, though. I’m entirely too out of practice.

“Of course, Your Majesty. I hope you’re going to give me a little more information than that, though.”

His smile is brighter than the next lightning flash. “Most certainly. Come. Let’s sit.” He gestures toward the fireplace, as if he were the master of this place and I a mere guest; the worst thing is, in so many ways that’s precisely the truth. “And stop acting like you’ve forgotten my given name.”

As if I could ever.

#warden's random scribbles #writeblr #original fiction #snippet #angstober2023 #day 01 #my writing #flash fiction #writers on tumblr #fantasy

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