#ill die of heat one of these days | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tired-teacher-blog · 10 months ago

Text

Virgin Pro hero Iida whose mind couldn't be less concerned about the subject despite him nearing his thirties.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who usually brushes off his friends' teasing words about him being "clueless around girls" and "surely to die alone" since his one and only goal in life is to be a hero worthy of carrying his brother's title, and nothing more.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who has the habit of scolding you each time you playfully ask him out on a date since he's just so used to everyone's mocking and believes it's what you're doing as well.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who is tragically unaware of your true feelings for him, and for someone who appears to be quite sharp and brainy, he constantly misses the longing gaze in your eyes.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who finally agrees to join you for dinner one evening just to shut you up and put an end to your pestering, only to wind up having a wonderful time with you, away from the usual stress of work.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who starts freaking out the moment he realizes that your soft voice and beautiful face are now hunting him, plaguing his every waking hour and rendering his mind a tangled mess, and the more he tries to deny it, the clearer it becomes that you are no longer just a dear friend to him, but potentially something a lot more than that.

Virgin Pro hero Iida whose peculiar tics seem to worsen around you, prompting your confusion as you watch him lose his composure before disappearing without a trace.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who secretly wishes you would ask him out again since he cannot bring himself to do it no matter how much he tries.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who almost yells his agreement when his wish finally comes true as you casually suggest having a drink together after work.

Virgin Pro hero Iida whose blush refuses to leave his face while he strives to keep his cool around you, beating himself up for seeming like a loser, but is unaware of how adorable he appears to you.

Virgin Pro hero Iida whose priorities start to shift and broaden a bit -to potentially include you- the moment your hand accidentally brushes against his own when walking you back home after your fourth date.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who can never explain the persistent heat waves washing over his body everytime you flash him a smile or call out his name, and in his confused virgin brain, it can only mean him suffering from an illness which seems to aggravate with your presence. Yeah, that must be it.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who almost breaks into laughter when he realizes the real reason behind his inexplicable state the moment you share your first kiss. It was never a virus or a mysterious syndrome that hit him, it was simply you all along.

Virgin Pro hero Iida whose arms shakily sneak around your waist and bring you against his toned chest to prolong this magical moment while your lips are moving perfectly together.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who's unaware of the prominent smile plastered across his face for days now, his eagerness is growing by the second and the feeling of your soft breath fanning over his face as you leaned back from the kiss, is still vivid in his memory.

Virgin Pro hero Iida whose body stiffens -but only for a second- the moment you invite him into your apartment with a suggestive glint in your eye. He's not stupid, and understands your intentions perfectly as they mirror his own, but his restlessness and excitement are messing with his brain and preventing him from voicing his approval, so much so that he ends up stiffly stepping inside without a word.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who's barely able to form a coherent thought all throughout the movie you suggested watching together, and whose only interest seems to be in the way your fingers are absentmindedly playing with his own.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who's just about reached his limit when you clumsily move to straddle his waist and claim his lips in a tender kiss as the end credits roll up the screen.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who curses under his breath when feeling his cock hardening against your restless hips, he wants more but is unsure of how to proceed, or if it is even possible for him to withstand your teasing without bursting in his pants.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who suddenly stands up while holding you in his arms, searching your eyes for a permission to carry you to bed, and stumbling his way there when you shyly nod an approval.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who lays you down gently and kneels before you, a deep flush reaching the tips of his ears as he racks his brain for what to do next.

Virgin Pro hero Iida whose blush undeniably grows when you start giggling at his clumsy state and softly ask him to follow your lead as you guide his moves.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who's a quick learner, promptly takes control and relishes the way your directing words jumble up with broken moans as you finally give in to him.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who is a gentleman, does his utmost to pleasure you, as best as his virgin body allows, and boy does he do that!

Virgin Pro hero Iida who whimpers loudly while feeling your warm walls squeezing him blissfully for the very first time, praying to God not to cum right then and there as the sensation is driving him insane.

Virgin Pro hero Iida whose tears are threatening to spill as he buries his face in the crook of your neck before giving in to them.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who cannot get enough of your warmth surrounding him, strokes, kisses and embraces you all night long while moving slowly and deeply into your heat and taking the time to explore your lustful body.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who breathlessly watches your enticing body splayed underneath himself with the hope of itching this heavenly image of you deep in his memory.

Virgin Pro hero Iida who is proud and elated to have you as his first, it was never about losing his virginity but rather, about experiencing it with the right person, and that is precisely who you are.

Divider by : @/cafekitsune

5K notes · View notes

eldritch-spouse · 7 months ago

Note

You are running naked in the Jungle, searching frantically.

You look and you see another human, the first one you've seen in months and you run towards them.

“Thank God! Listen, we need to get out of here immediately, it's dangerous! Do you know the way out? Back to civilization?”

You feel a tentacle around your ankles

[Months? Couldn't be me, I'd just die. Let's downsize that to a week. Fem reader.]

TW: Reader has a self-loathing inner monologue; Reader is in a bad place mentally; Dubcon to full consent.

It was a stupid idea.

You knew that when you started it. So did everyone that tried to convince you otherwise. But common sense isn't something that could have stopped someone like you, someone who was ill enough to think taking a break from life in the middle of buttfuck nowhere would work out.

You didn't even have any sort of experience in this type of thing. Neither did you seek any kind of useful tips.

You just wanted to escape.

And you did, literally, into a forested nightmare that you got lost in not even hours after your arrival.

You just wish you could find your car, you just wish you could find somewhere warm and comforting to sleep in.

It's been days. Probably a week by now. Your stuff all disappeared, somehow. You swear you're not tripping, it all just vanished! Your phone, your bag, your keys...

Your back hurts, the nights are cold and humid and you're sure you're getting sick by now. Clean water would be a godsend, you've been drinking and cleaning yourself with some questionable-looking sources for a while. Not to mention you can't feed yourself properly, and you certainly don't know how to hunt.

Not that there's much to hunt. Every time you think you hear a peep, there's a brush of foliage and silence dominates seconds later.

You're going to die.

A horrifying reminder that has your chest pounding painfully and sweat glistening on your forehead.

You don't want to die.

But the modern human wasn't born for the wilderness, and you can only stand being clothed for a little longer before the sensation of being dirty has you clawing the skin off your body.

It was a fucking miracle that you managed to get a small fire going.

Finally.

You can heat up that fish you caught earlier.

If it's still good. Is... This is safe to eat, right?

You lean to sniff at the leaf-wrapped catch.

Eh. You can stomach it...

God, you're starving.

One thing that's been bugging you for a while is how... Deserted this whole place feels.

You're no wildlife expert, but isn't this kind of location supposed to be brimming with animals? Why is it that, everywhere you go, it's mostly just you and insects bumbling around?

Shouldn't there be some mammals here? Some birds? Maybe a squirrel or a snake... Aren't there predators you'd have to worry about in this kind of scenario?

Ironically, being alone makes you feel even more stressed out than if you were constantly surrounded by wild animals.

You huddle closer to the small fire.

Alone.

But always so on edge.

Always getting that tingling feeling crawling up your spine.

The one that screams- Look, look behind you! You're in danger!

The phantom feeling of something hovering behind your neck, goosebumps that hardly fade every time you do turn around to check and find nothing.

Is this a normal amount of paranoia for your situation? Is this your brain trying to cope with the fact that you haven't seen much wildlife so far?

Or is there something watching you from beyond the trees?

Something stalking.

A persistence predator, coming and going, to check on its latest prey.

Oh, and what a catch you are. Big and juicy compared to the things that probably roam this place -Roamed, more like...

Have you wandered into the territory of something that'll inevitably snap its jaws around your neck?

...

Just eat the fucking fish already.

Food.

Focus on the present.

The smell starts to hit your nose. Salt, oh what you wouldn't do for some simple salt. How do people get salt?

You're glad you got some berries along the way too, because this fish is probably going to taste like ass. You're sure they aren't poisonous or anything of the sort. If they are, then you've been eating them for the past few days so honestly you could keel over at any moment.

You'll see.

Once the fish has roasted enough where it's likely safe to consume, you peel it open messily and start munching indiscriminately, ravenous.

It's... Well, it's sustenance.

It's about the most nutritious thing you've eaten since you got here.

This survival thing is harder than the fake actors on TV make it seem.

A sudden crack of a branch has you pausing mid-chew.

You truly feel like a deer when your head snaps up and you stand very still to listen for a follow-up.

Nothing.

Tired eyes strain, trying to make sense of a darkened blob in the distance.

Huh.

What the fuck is that thing?

Tall.

Two legs...

Arms?!

Shit- Could it be?!

That can't be possible, someone else roaming around this maddening forest. Is that a sign that you're somehow getting closer to civilization? That you're making it out by sheer luck? What cosmic force could be on your side this time? Maybe they just live here, like some kind of off-grid retired agent- Okay, you've been watching too many movies.

Without stopping to think twice about frankly important concerns regarding this sudden development, you place the cooked fish down on the leaf it was previously wrapped in and start scooting forward towards the silhouette you saw.

That build can only belong to a man. Well, you assume as much anyway. It's hard to spot more from here, with the foliage covering their form.

" H- Hey... "

You haven't used your voice in a hot minute. Some part of you almost doesn't recognize it. A healthy dose of paranoia stops you from brushing aside the obstacles and facing this person.

But you need to at least try, right?

The worst that can happen is that you really are hallucinating for some reason or another.

With a surge of bravery, but mostly desperation, you push all the branches and greenery away to run towards this person, opening your mouth to greet them, to beg for help, ask for new clothes or just something cooked!

" Hey! Please, I need your... Help? "

Nothing.

There's no one.

But that doesn't make sense, you clearly saw a silhouette, someone was there! You didn't even have to run that far, how could it be that you already lost sight of them? That they could get away so silently?

No. Everything's wrong.

Before you know it, your vision is blurring and your face heats as tears stain your cheeks.

Why... Why would your mind fuck with you like this? Going from a shining shred of hope to complete despair in seconds has you screaming inside.

Why is this happening to you?

Are you really about to die in a stupid fucking patch of nothing just because you can't deal with the stress in your life like a normal person? Just because you made one bad decision when everything was weighing heavy on your conscience? Are you really so incompetent and so pointless as a human that this is how your story ends?

Anger and regret blind you to everything, fingers course through your knotted hair as you sob and tug, having no way to calm yourself and nothing to unleash your tension onto.

The moment you try to stomp your foot in a petulant act, you find it rooted to the ground. It takes a couple more insistent tugs upward for you to realize that something is coiled around it, keeping it firmly planted.

The train wreck of emotions and bile of self-hating thoughts takes a backseat, goosebumps pricking your skin from tip of the head to your very toes. The first thing you think of is some kind of snake, eyes bulging behind digits.

You look down frantically, shaking, but in spite of the sky being clear, all you see is this reddish mass, with neither end nor beginning. What... What the fuck is it?!

The thing tightens around your ankle, starting to slide up the length of your right leg, up to your knee. And immediately, you panic, kicking and shrieking, achieving absolutely nothing and getting promptly tugged to the ground.

Yeah.

Maybe freaking out isn't the best bet for your survival here.

Twigs and dirt get on your face, it takes some coughing and swiping to finally clear your field of view. But honestly...

You almost wish you hadn't.

Curved over your prone figure, staring down, is a creature you have never seen before.

Bipedal and quite large, like the silhouette you had glimpsed before, but so very far from human. The reddish coloration spanning the length of that bizarre body makes him -Because, again, you can only assume that is a male- Look as if he's made of flesh quickly molded together to imitate the figure of a human. What initially made you think he was skinless soon turns into the realization that there was never room for skin anyway.

Because his body is quite literally comprised of what you can only call tentacles. Tendrils and coiling tissue that clings and organizes itself in the vague lie of an organism like yours.

From elbows to fingers and knees to feet, the tendrils become a lot more discernable, coiling and uncoiling while he watches curiously. The thing around your leg is one of said tendrils, coming from the mass forming his own. Along the length of its torso, sharp-toothed mouths form and shift, almost seeming to have a mind of their own as they scent the air and snap at nothing.

That head has got to be the most striking feature. It's an amalgamation of tentacles all wrapped around each other, leaving room for an incredibly sharp golden eye to fix you in place. This thing looks like it crawled out of a sleeping ocean, like the roots and vines of an ancient jungle came together to form a totally new an extension of themselves. He looks like he's been sculped from the guts of others yet also composed in a way your mind could never hope to grasp.

Somewhere between trying to determine if you're dealing with an animal or a person, you reach the conclusion that an animal wouldn't stare you down for this long.

An animal would take a couple of seconds to determine if you're prey or predator and act accordingly. He would have snapped your neck or suffocated you like a boa constrictor with those tentacles by now.

And yet, he just stares.

Like you're the strangest creature to ever grace the woods this thing probably calls a home. You're as freaky to him as he is to you, enough so that he seems out of depth on how to proceed.

You stare back.

This has got to be the monster that you saw back there. Watching you. Now that you think about it, maybe this was the reason you'd always have a tingling sensation reminding you that you're not alone. Because he was there all that time, stalking.

Plenty were the moments he could have dug your grave until now. It's strange that he hasn't. Because surely, he's seen how you're failing to adapt to this location. Every step you take, you're stumbling and getting pricked, hungry, thirsty, afraid, disoriented- You're a fish out of water and he could have ended that misery a long time ago.

Odd.

Neither of you move. It blinks, vertically. You blink too.

And then, it makes this chitter.

Wet, like a gargle, followed by some kind of rumbling as more of those tendrils that form his limbs unwind, explore.

They reach down towards your frame when he squats, and you stifle the urge to scream at the sight of them getting nearer. Because who knows what he's going to do...

They poke and prod, grabbing lightly at parts of you, wet yet not quite. Two coil around your arms, then elbows, then wrists.

Other strays squirm around your sides, unintentionally triggering a squirming reflex as you muffle helpless laughter.

The monster seems intrigued by the noise anyway, making his own vocalizations as if attempting to communicate with you.

Abruptly, there's a blur of movement and you're yanked into the air by the arms, shrieking in fear and pain.

Not for long, because more of his freaky, flowing appendages wind around your middlesection, hips and knees, pulling in different directions.

In seconds, mere moments, this being has you suspended in the air.

Immediately, your panicked mind is going places where it absolutely shouldn't.

He seems more relaxed now that you're restrained, that gaze becomes softer, clouded with curiosity. To be monitoring you this long, you don't doubt he has his own questions and intrigue regarding how you work.

When that hulking red mass walks towards you, anxiety prevents your mouth from staying shut.

" H- Hi? "

A sound not too different from the peep of a skittish bird.

One that causes him to cock his head in a brief pause, processing the noise, and returning it with his own light gurgle. One of the mouths on his figure gets the pitch right down to a T.

Soon, he's lacing a hand through your hair, grabbing it, manipulating the protrusion and stroking your head inquisitively. He squeezes and almost scritches at your scalp, reminding you of the way someone acts when spotting a particularly cute cat. Yes, hair is likely a mystery to this creature, you can kind of understand why it'd linger here.

But that doesn't change the fact that you're being patted like a pet by a strange, unknowable creature- And that's morbidly hilarious.

When your cheeks start to puff with laughter, his attention finally deviates. You can feel the tendrils that form every digit when he splays them across your face, tracing your eyebrows, playing with the tip of your nose and even trying to poke into your ears- Something he halts when you jerk away rapidly each time.

When he starts trying to put a digit in your mouth, he's a lot more careful, aware that you have teeth and can bite, even if yours are quite small and blunt compared to the ones he sports. He succeeds, because your strength is nothing compared to that of a monster of his size and nature. The digit he dips into your mouth rests there placidly for a couple of moments.

You aren't sure what to do. Biting is not a bright idea when you know this creature can probably easily dismember you in this position. He himself looks slightly lost, as if he put his finger in your mouth out of impulse mostly. A false sense of security begets your own curiosity.

Perhaps you're just insane already -That probably says a lot about your overall mental fortitude- But seeing another living being that behaves and looks vaguely like what you might call a person makes you feel calmer than you have since the beginning of all this. You know it's an irrational feeling, that you're not any safer than before, but it's a thread of comfort you desperately cling to.

And it's what allows you to look this thing in the eye while you experimentally lick his bizarre tendril-clump of a finger.

It was only a little flick.

But naturally, he felt it.

The monster rumbles something incomprehensible at you, leaning closer still to cast a shadow upon your front. In this position, he looms between your clothed legs, though seems mostly unaware of the lurid position he's got you in, fixated on your mouth.

The sensation of his digit unfolding into two separate thin tentacles is bizarre. You picture a human finger splitting in two and curse your brain. Said tentacles poke and wriggle, capturing your tongue between themselves.

Yes, that's probably the part of your body that most closely resembles the mass of prehensile tissue composing his own.

The touch has you drooling, saliva trying to break down something probably few to no humans have ever come in contact with. He tastes slimy yet slightly rugged in some areas, not something you'd write home about.

Reflex has your poor muscle squirming to be freed, but that only causes him to tighten the grasp upon it. And, surprisingly, to let out this humid noise that sounds far too much like a groan of delight for you to interpret it as anything else.

There's a pause from your part as you wonder, incredulously, if this thing just got turned on.

There's not much time to ponder, because that digit very quickly slips out, and as he examines the sheen of drool on it, something else steadily approaches your mouth.

Ah, you've graduated from finger to proper tentacle mouthfucking. Commendable.

Making light of the situation is about the least recommended course of action, but after what you've endured so far, you think you deserve to be a little, tiny bit, insane.

Apparently convinced that you won't try to harm him, the crimson monster wiggles that darkened appendage and taps it against your lips, seeming very interested in how this is unfolding.

You should not have opened your mouth.

But you did.

And he visibly brightened up.

The tendril wedges itself in without much hesitation, resting upon your tongue. Much thicker than his digit, your jaw has no choice but to stretch, and your lips wrap around it in a rather phallic, dirty image. You barely realize you're making an effort not to scrape your teeth on the appendage. Perhaps because the sensation of it is a tad spongy and remarkably similar to that of any standard manhood.

And, as if to give reason to your lewd comparison, he shudders at the warmth of your wet mouth, the thing pulsing within you.

While he mostly simply lets the extremity sit there motionlessly, you do explore, trying to lick around it out of morbid curiosity. He watches you avidly, but apparently, what really gets to this bizarre entity is feeling you suck down the saliva that pools in your cheeks, swallowing.

Suction. Because of course he'd enjoy that. What man doesn't?

That begs the question, is the thing in your mouth part of his genitals?

Again, thinking is a privilege you can't afford when that tentacle starts sliding down your throat experimentally. It doesn't take him long to trigger your gag reflex, a violent kick and curve forward from your part causing him to pull back quickly. But he continues to test the waters afterwards, probably seeking the sensation of your stressed throat muscles tightening around him.

Instinct takes over.

Because even if he seems truly out of his depth maneuvering a human body, he's curious and, if you had to guess, attracted to you. Enough to put sensitive things in your mouth, to fetishize that part of you. Hormones make things work, which means he soon realizes he can make repetitive back and forth motions to get friction.

And so, just like that, you're getting fucked in the mouth, inside the woods, by an eldritch abomination of a monster you might find in a cheaply made H. P Lovecraft rip-off.

It should not arouse you.

It should horrify you.

... But it doesn't.

Those reactions are missing, leaving you befuddled at your own enjoyment of the situation. Are you just happy to have someone around? Has it truly been so long since you received this type of attention that you don't mind if it comes from an entity of unknown origin who is clearly not civilized? Are you just a freak actively discovering new sides of your sexuality?

Who knows anymore.

All you know is that there's a wet noise ringing every time he thrusts that slimy thing into your mouth, that he's resorted to gripping your hips hard while making intense eye contact, that he growls and gurgles whenever you have enough control to suck at him. If you had to guess, it's his unwavering, lewd and fascinated observation of your face and lips that has you likely forming a wet spot on your poor pants.

You think your wanton squirming is subtle, but reality proves otherwise when the monster starts getting distracted, one of those pupils shifting to the rhythmic movement of your legs as you shamelessly seek friction. At first, he seems irritated, as if questioning why you'd want to leave when you'd been so docile so far.

Then it appears to click.

You can almost see it in his face, in spite of how inhuman it is, that eureka moment.

And the tendril in your mouth slows down to a crawl.

He starts pawing and pulling at your pants, but not aimlessly. Not at all. He's studied you, he knows what he's looking for, the button and the zipper. You pale a few shades, the only way this thing could know how to take pants off is if it saw you doing it, if it saw you relieving yourself or trying to bathe to avoid infections.

Just how many embarrassing moments did he catch?

Too many, probably.

Still, you're pleasantly surprised to see him so easily remove the garment, fluidly shifting the positions of his tendrils to avoid tangling the fabric in them. Your pants come off without a single blemish, aside from those they sustained previously. Is he removing them so carefully because he thinks you need them to survive or is he just being considerate?

Your underwear is treated the same way, he spares no extra thought to it, and only appears to pause once your pussy is exposed.

Usually, you'd feel self-conscious in this position. There's not a lot you can do to properly groom yourself without the simple privilege of soap and whatnot... But what does it matter here? As far as you know, for this monster, pussy is pussy regardless of it being shaved or bush-heavy, "perfumed" or au naturel.

And a soaked, needy hole is hard for a lonesome monster to ignore.

He looms closer to your womanhood, watching closely, gargling a string of vocalizations you still can't interpret, until another tentacle slithers into scene and slaps against your cunt.

No, literally.

The thing whips from mound to the bottom of your entrance, swiping up and down in a pace that has you seeing stars every time it flicks your clitoris and catches on a clenching entrance. To say your legs kick out occasionally from the intensity of the stimulus is no exaggeration, but he's quick to adapt his hold so you have no way of wiggling aside.

You don't know why it's doing that, but frankly, you don't care much, it just feels good. A racing heart and a heaving chest have you tipping your head back to moan against the thing stuffed in your mouth. You realize, a little belatedly, that he was probably mostly just trying to lube that appendage with your own arousal.

Your plump pussy still tingles when the assault stops on all sides, you strain to watch what he's doing, observing the monster evaluate the sheen now coating that wriggling extremity.

He's less careful than before now, a product of excitement no doubt, parking the somewhat thicker length at your entrance and pushing in tentatively for only a couple of moments before ramming a decent chunk of that tendril into your cunt.

Eyes bulging, you spit out a beastial sound that startles the monster, panting as you try to get used to the sudden stretch. He's reached a depth within you no one else has found before, and the pressure is such so that you've been robbed of the ability to speak.

He shouldn't be that far in you.

You may come from extremely distinct backgrounds, but some things are vastly universal, like the facial expression of pain. Which, credit where credit is due, he picks up on relatively fast. The moment the entity removes a good chunk of its length, you sigh and sag in momentous relief. That's a lot better. You still feel as if you're being stuffed to the brim, but there's no longer that stabbing pain.

He understands what he did wrong after a couple of still moments and some bizarre palping sensation from your insides.

Much like the previous tendril in your mouth, this one too starts to thrust back and forth, with more care now, experimenting with differing speeds and curling in various ways as he gets closer and closer to watch how you react.

You're no researcher, but maybe if the mounting pleasure wasn't swimming to your head and making it very very hard to think coherently right now, you'd be fascinated with the way this monster is being so thorough in his examination of you, wanting to learn what makes you tick in every way, what has you choking out noises and rolling your eyes.

So intense is the heat rushing through your body from his repeated, filthy motions that you hardly notice anything happening until his all-seeing eye is almost glued to your face. The tips of the tentacles that make up his rather disturbing head unfurl and appear to drip downwards, clinging to the sides of your face so he can fix it in place, observe every detail as soon as you part your mouth to moan and gasp and babble nonsense. Each noise you make is eagerly eaten up, he tries to mimic the same motions that make you squeal as if begging for more of them.

There's no time to warn or even shriek about it, your orgasm barrels its way down your body with the intensity of a bullet, curving you in its tentacles, a breathless "oh" being all you can offer as your abdominal muscles contract and you squeeze the life out of the tendril inside you, making a mess that drips to the ground between you two.

It may not have been easy to spot in that pleasured trance, but the monster halted to watch it all unfold, mesmerized. Retracting to test the nature of the new slick now grossly painting you.

By the time you're done riding the high of your climax, you've been shifted again, this time a little lower, and you find the entity staring down to the spot where your core meets something that wasn't there before.

You'll admit you didn't have the time to properly process the full extent of his appearance when he first appeared before your stunned self. Now you're unsure if this monster had some kind of pelvic pouch, or if he merely unfolded two more tendrils out of his mass where one would expect a dick to be.

The two appendages wriggle and roll impatiently, seeking each other before parting in search of heat, of wetness, slapping against your belly and thighs. They may not look like it, but you can only guess those are his cocks. And he's considering something quietly.

It's hard to tell what he's thinking right now, the communication barrier doesn't help. Maybe he worries that the length of them will hurt you. Perhaps he wonders if he can impregnate you this way. It could just be that he thinks perhaps mating with a strange human is not a good idea, but the way those things are spreading a coat of thick precum on your skin says otherwise.

Instead of letting his stall further, a small hand reaches down to feather over the tip of one of those members, immediately getting captured and pulled at in the process. His figure rattles, hips offering a useless piston before his head snaps back up to watch you.

" ... Try putting one in. "

You murmur, knowing damn well it can't understand a single word.

He looks back down, peels back to spread your cuntlips invitingly, then seems to make up his mind, allowing the very tips of both squirming cocks to connect with your entrance. They've found warmth and they're desperate to worm in, stretching and flirting with your walls.

You grin incredulously, already trying to guess what it'll feel like, gasping as soon as he leans forward and allows more exploration. The first hint of a burn arrives as he rumbles in delight-

But a branch snaps in the distance.

And the moment is ruined because he halts immediately, your cry of frustration ignored entirely.

His body twists in an unnatural way so he can glance behind, inhuman eye seeing through greenery and undoubtedly spotting something off.

In the tense quiet that has now settled, even you pick up on the faraway mumbles of what must be people.

Eyes widening, snapping out of this episode, you begin to squirm earnestly now, wanting to see them, to find a way back, to go home!

Finally, people came looking for you!

The monster snaps back around, making you realize how truly fucked you are in these circumstances. Something flashes in that gaze, a hint of contempt, of hurt maybe.

Something too human to fall upon such a nightmarish face.

You can only scream as more tendrils dart in lightening speeds to cocoon you inside them. That single noise being all that escapes before you're forcibly gagged and physically thrown over the monster's shoulder.

His molding body swings from tree to tree in a blur of movement, taking you God knows where...

And leaving your saviors in the dust.

#Sever oc #terato tag #monsterfucker #yandere teratophilia #yandere monster #monster boyfriend #tentacle monster #monster x reader #monster x you #minors dni #not sfw

1K notes · View notes

sluttysnowangel666 · 3 months ago

Text

Weeping Waters - cregan stark x reader

this story was inspired by this post!! i suggest you follow the op they were kind enough to let me write a story inspired by it❤️ @weirdiingwoman

summary: whilst on a trip for a tourney to celebrate queen rhaenyra’s succession to the throne, lord stark brings his child hood friend to keep him company. however a blistering hot day sends the northerner’s searching for relief from the sun. when they come across a hidden spot on the beach, cregan agrees to stand guard and keep watch so the lady can swim.

cw: au, no dance of dragons or war just cregan and his lady being secretly in love, smut as always, cregan is a SIMP for his lady just down historically bad for her , loss of virginity, fingering, friends to lovers, beach sex

“Gods, when will it end?” You moan out, fanning yourself to no avail.

Cregan doesn’t acknowledge your relentless whining, only sighs in response. The heat was torture, that was for damn sure. He nearly begun to feel sick from the mix of the moist air and putrid smell of King’s Landing.

After living in Winterfell for so long, his nose had grown blind to the familiar scents of his home. But now, after being away for weeks to celebrate the first Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Cregan had grown desperate to return to the smell of winter.

You groaned and whined and groaned some more, only adding to Cregan’s already heightened irritation.

“Cregannnn!” You whined, dragging your feet while your sweaty hands held up your dress so it wasn’t pummeled with whatever strange liquids manifested themselves on the ground.

“I don’t know what you wish me to do, my lady.” He responds, flatly, growing ever so annoyed with you. “Tis’ the last day of the tourney, and then we will be home shortly thereafter.”

“I am ill equipped for this place.” You say, looking at the long sleeves of your dress that were now damp with sweat.

You arrive to the tourney, walking through the red and black dragon decorated festival. Your arm is linked in Cregan’s as you both take the steps to the table of other high lords. Cregan had refused to participate in the tourney, but encouraged his men to. Today Cregan’s right hand man and your brother, Jon Manderly, would go up against the Lord Commander of the Queensguard, Criston Cole. Your proximity with Cregan made those around you assume you were the Lady of Winterfell, and did not realize you were there representing House Manderly.

“Let’s hope our brother does not die today.” You mumble. Cregan smirks, but your words sting him slightly. Our brother. As if the three of you were siblings. He dared never admit it, but he was in love with you. In love with you how a Targaryen man was oft in love with their sister. He would give anything if it meant he could actually make you Lady of Winterfell. But he knew you did not love him the same, and although your father was desperate for Cregan to ask your hand he would never jeopardize the friendship he shared with you and your brother.

He glanced down at your lap, your hands folded properly between your thighs. Gods, what he wouldn’t give.

The day would be long, and your brother’s fight was the last joust of the day. Only then could you finally go home to your cold bliss. But until that time came, you all had to suffer the blazing fury of the sun.

You sipped on the sweet wine that had been brought to you by servants, twisting your features at the fruity taste. The flavor was that of one you were not used to, given the ale in the North was oft bitter and strong.

“This wine is disgusting.” You say to Cregan. He picks up his own cup, taking a quick swig before doing the same thing you did.

“I told you.” You laugh, pushing his strong arm.

“You weren’t jesting, my lady. That is a very unpleasant wine.”

“Well, maybe I have a surprise for you later.” She whispered.

Despite the heat, he shivered at her words and his stomach swirled with anticipation.

The day seemed to drag on. Although the morning had been hot, it was nothing compared to the sun at midday. None of the southerner’s seemed fazed, but you and Cregan were drenched head to toe in sweat. It looked as if you had both bathed, that was how wet your hair was. Your sweat had seeped through your dress in every crevice. It was so hot in fact, you and Cregan were both panting like overworked dogs and now suddenly that sweet wine was a delicious and cool reprieve from the heat.

“Cregan, please can we sneak out of here?” She asks.

“And go where?”

“I don’t care! Just somewhere cool. There’s got to be some sort of water near here that isn’t filled with gods know what.”

He knew he should’ve stayed, but you had that pleading look in your eye and gods was it hot. He was growing so delirious from the heat that he would do anything you asked of him.

You both mumbled a quiet excuse to the other lords at the table, saying you were off to pray or something. The lords gave you both confused looks, but you were already off.

You ran holding your dress in your hands so you didn’t trip over the skirts, and you giggled as Cregan was close behind, also giggling at your escapade. The breeze from your running felt cool against your wet skin.

Cregan grabbed your arm and you laughed as you lost your balance and fell. You both screamed and laughed as you tripped over each other, rolling on the grass.

“You’ve stained my dress!” You yelled, laughing.

“Why don’t you take it off then?” Cregan says. The words come out before he can stop them, and his hand flies to his mouth in shock at his own words. His cheeks grow even more red than they were before.

You laugh, giving his arm a push. “Cheeky today, aren’t we?”

You both stand, walking now past the gardens. “Do you know where you’re going?” You ask.

“My father brought me to King’s Landing when I was younger. I got lost and found this beach beyond the gardens.” Cregan says.

You both walk down the stairs to a stone building, making your way through the dark, abandoned halls to reach the other side.

The sand on the ground felt grainy and satisfying under your boots, and you quickly pulled them off to sink your toes in the sand. The area Cregan had brought you to was slightly secluded, but could easily be found by accident by someone wandering by.

“I’ll keep watch.” He says, turning to face the direction you came as you shuffle out of your dress.

“Keep watch.” You mumble, displeased he won’t be joining you. Cregan doesn’t hear you leave initially, but he hears your groans of relief when you step foot in the cold ocean.

“The water is so lovely!” You yell to him. He looks down, shaking his head. He wanted to join you so badly, to cool off in the ocean while he held you close to him. The sun was beating down on his brown hair, soaking his head with sweat. He began to grow frustrated with the heat, and the thoughts of you naked in the ocean weren’t helping to cool him off.

But he’d rather face the heat of a thousand burning suns before he let someone see you bare. You were his, and he’d allow himself to pass out from the heat before he moved from his spot. He told himself that, swore it in fact. You would not tempt him with your siren song into that ocean.

“Careful you don’t burn, my lady.” Cregan yells.

“What was that?” You call. “I didn’t hear you. Perhaps you should join me.”

He smirks, tapping his foot impatiently against the sand. He breathes in the salty smell of the ocean, such a sweet reprieve from the foulness that lingered even in the Red Keep.

“Cregan!” You yell jokingly angry. “Come in right now before you melt!”

He laughs, and you walk towards him from the shore. He doesn’t hear you over the sound of the waves crashing.

He jumps a bit when he feels your hand touch his shoulder. You tug on it to try and turn him around, but he stands firm.

“Cregan.” You whisper.

He shakes his head.

“Cregannnn.” You sing. “Look at me.”

He doesn’t move, so you walk around his body to face him. He closes his eyes, his heart racing with fear.

“My lady.” Cregan says with caution, eyes still closed.

“I-“ Your sentence is cut off by loud, rambunctious yelling.

Cregan’s eyes snap open, immediately grabbing you to drag you back to the water. His gaze avoids your body as much as possible, but he still can see your curves in his peripheral.

He walks in with you, ignoring his now wet clothes and pushing you until the water is at your waist.

“Sit.” He says, pushing your shoulders down so you’re on your knees, the water stopping at your collar bone. “Do not move.”

He walks back to shore just as the men reach the beach.

“My lords, this area is off limits.” Cregan says to the group of three men.

“Says who?” A short and stocky man drunkenly yells.

“Me.” Cregan says, his voice stern. One of the taller men peaks a glance around him, locking his eyes onto yours. Cregan notices and immediately shifts so the man is face to face with Cregan instead.

“Are you men of salt and sea?” Cregan asks them.

“No… We represent House Clegane; We’ll be facing some Northern cunt.” The tall guy spits on the ground and his minions laugh. The men continue to avert their gaze to you, with nasty smirks filling their faces.

“I see. Then, my lords, let me tell you as Warden of the North I suggest… No… command you turn and go back to the tourney.”

“And if we don’t?” The tall one speaks again, challenging Cregan.

“Then since you wish to stay so badly I will drown you in the ocean… and make you men of salt and sea.”

The men shuffle uncomfortably, looking to their tall leader. He avoids Cregan’s eyes, looking around and deciding if a fight is worth it. Your heart beats unusually fast in your chest, afraid of what fight may come.

You had never seen Cregan so… dominate and protective. He was like a wolf defending its pups. You had seen him assertive in the training yard, frustrated, angry… but this was different. You could feel the vibrations radiating off him. He was ice normally, but right now he felt like fire… even from far away.

A shiver ran up your body, yet you felt… hot in your stomach. Your chest fluttered, and you were afraid at the beast in your vision right now. Yet, he was igniting his own kind of fire in you, a heat that burned between your legs. Your hands nervously clawed and gripped at your thighs. You licked the salty water off your lips, nearly drooling at Cregan.

The men finally backed down, turning and leaving the way they had came. Cregan turned and looked at you, shaking his head. He did that a lot.

The way he protected you was so hot. You wanted to make it up to him.

He walked to the shoreline, the remnants of waves splashing his boots. He didn’t take his eyes off yours once.

“Are you alright?” He asked, his voice gentle with you. You nodded.

“Cregan…” You said. “I need you in the most unimaginable way possible right now.”

“Fuck.” He whispered, too quiet for you to hear. Did he dare cross this line? If he did, there was surely no returning.

Right when he decided against it, not wanting to strain your life long friendship, you stood up.

All logic, at that moment ceased to exist,

and he immediately stripped off his clothes.

Before he could even fully undress, you pounced on him. You yanked him in the water with his small clothes still on and slammed your lips on his.

“Thank you for protecting me.” You whispered. He kissed you with even more force after that, no longer able to contain himself. He felt such a strong urge in him to protect you, love you, hold you, breed you. He was possessed by your beauty and grace, and found himself getting lost in your lusciously sweet lips.

He held you tight against him, his length poking into your thighs. You rubbed him through his small clothes, eliciting a groan from him. Although the water was cooling him off, he found himself sweating with nervousness.

“Make me yours.” You whisper. His fingers greedily dig into your hips as he kisses you more deeply, tongues and teeth clashing. He claims your mouth with his, fighting to prove himself strong enough for you.

He tried to hide it, but he was deeply afraid. Cregan had never been with a woman intimately, and he did not want to let down the girl he loved since he was a child.

“Marry me.” He whispers. “Give me your hand. Be the Lady of Winterfell.”

You pull away from him, staring at him to search his eyes for any sign of a jest. But all you see are his gray eyes, staring back at you with a mixture of lust and love and hope.

When he saw the look of shock in your eyes, he immediately regretted his words. He had pushed too far and turned you off. He was convinced you had gotten lost in the madness of lust, and were only now realizing the consequences of your actions.

“Are… Are you serious?” You ask.

He nods, sadly. He couldn’t back down, he needed to say he tried.

“But, I’m just a Manderly. You could marry a Targaryen or Hightower if you wanted… Why me?”

“Because I love you, endlessly.” He says, “All those moments, all those memories… You’ve made me who I am. I’m not me without you.” and it was true. Every glance he stole, every time you fought, hunted, played, argued… It all led him to here. He knew there was a purpose for you both. He always felt it in his soul, he just hadn’t known what it meant until now.

Now he knew it meant your fates were sealed long ago.

“Lady Stark,” You say, playing with Cregan’s chest. “rolls off the tongue quite nicely.”

He pulls you back onto his lips, a tear escaping his eye at the joy he felt. You were his, and you always would be.

Gods be damned, honor be damned. I want her now.

He picked you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist. His hand supported your bottom as he carried you all the way back to the sand. You kissed his neck, cradling it between your hands.

Cregan set you down on his discarded clothes, flattening out the cloak so sand wouldn’t ruin your endeavor.

Cregan’s fingers smoothed over your cunt and you gasped. He pushed one inside and you found yourself gripping his bicep for support, the other hand resting on the back of his neck. You closed your eyes, moaning softly. He inserts another, stretching you to prepare you as best as possible. You moan his name, begging for the rest of him.

“Please, please, take me.” You pleaded. He was hesitant, as badly as he wanted it.

He decided he would be angry with himself later. For now, for the first time in Westeros history, a Stark forgot about honor.

He pulled his fingers out, rubbing himself with the lingering wetness from your cunt. He pushed off the last of his small clothes and positioned his length against you.

You finally felt slightly nervous when his length touched you. Cregan was a big man of course, surely you should have known that would’ve applied to other parts.

And yet it had slipped your mind, so now here you were mentally unprepared and growing nervous at his size about to take your maidenhead.

“Were other women you’ve been with intimidated by your size?” You ask, a tremble in your voice.

“What?” He asks.

“What?” You repeat.

“I’ve never been with other women.” He shakes his head.

“What?” You say again, surprise in your voice this time.

“You will be my first.” He says. “Am I yours?”

You nod.

“Then I will take care of you.” He says. You press your shaky lips to his, and his hand gently holds your cheek to comfort you.

He slides into you, slowly, holding you close to him to keep you from wiggling. You whine into his lips, a small sob parting you.

“You’re okay.” He whispers. “I’ve got you. We will go easy, my girl.”

You nestle your face into his neck, holding on to him with a death grip.

He makes love to you slow at first, waiting for your tight cunt to adjust to him.

“Gods, please move.” You beg,

He immediately does as you command, fucking you with lust in his hips but love in his heart. You stare at him, admiring every feature on his face as he fucks you. His lips are parted, gasping softly, and his piercing gray eyes are focused only on your face. His wet brown locks fall beside his face, and you push it back with your fingers so they don’t hinder his vision. Your other hand leaves trails of red scratches down his chest, which only fuels on his hunger to make you writhe and wiggle more beneath him.

“Right there, Cregan. Oh, fuck, please. Please, my lord.” You moan. Cregan nearly melts at your lascivious begging.

He continues his harsh thrusts on your cunt, blood drips down his chest from the ferocity of your nails. He hardly even notices the burning pain, he’s too busy drowning in the heat between your legs.

You pull his lips onto yours, whining and moaning into his mouth as you hit your peak. Cregan groans as you tighten around him, and he plants his hand into the sand beside your head.

He wanted to pull out, he really did. But the way your cunt tightened around him, the way you pulled him into you so you could moan into his lips, the way your body trembled as you peaked… it was too much to handle. He spilled his seed into you, and by how much he spilled surely you would be pregnant with an heir if he did not get you moon tea on the morrow.

For now, he just wanted you. He wanted to wed you the moment you arrived back home. Your father would definitely be doing cartwheels when he heard the news, your brother would likely be happy as well.

There was time in their future for an heir, but all he could think about right now was how hard it was gonna be to restrain himself with you as his betrothed now.

“Our little secret?” You asked, referring to your engagement on the beach.

“Our little secret.” He said, pecking a soft kiss on the tip of her nose.

You both rinsed off in the ocean, dressing back in your clothes and returning to the tourney just in time to see your brother win against House Clegane.

But unfortunately, he had celebrated too early following his win against House Clegane, because he had gotten too drunk and lost only an hour later to Criston Cole.

“50 gold dragons.” He drunkenly scoffed.

“Better than none, brother.” You said, trying to comfort his first place loss. You looked to Cregan for help, but he was lost in his own world thinking about the beach.

“Something trouble you, Cregan?” You ask.

“Quite the opposite, actually.” He says, discretely brushing his hand against yours.

You blush, and the three of you silently make your way back to the great hall inside the Red Keep for the final feast of the tourney.

“I offer my congratulations to the winners, including my sworn protector Criston Cole and the second place winner Jon Manderly. I also offer my thanks to all the lords and ladies who have travelled from as far as Dorne to Winterfell. This will be a tournament for the books.” Queen Rhaenyra announces, sitting beside her council members including Alicent, Rhaenys, her son Jacaerys, Criston Cole, and her husband Daemon. “I would also like to announce a new marriage betrothal, brought to me by Cregan Stark!”

You and your brother turn to Cregan, who avoids your eyes yet smirks. “Cregan Stark has announced he will wed Lady Manderly, sister of the second place winner Jon Manderly, to celebrate Winterfell’s second place victory!”

The hall erupts in noise as people flood around you with their congratulations. You look at your brother, whose jaw is hanging to the floor.

“I suppose this truly makes us brothers now, aye Cregan?” Your brother says when he finally speaks, his northern accent appearing thicker than usual.

“Aye.” Cregan nods.

Your brother’s shock dissipates, and he finally shares his joy with you. He punches your arms, just like when you had been younger.

“Ow, brother! You forget yourself!” You say, smacking his arms.

“Sorry, sister. This moment is so joyous. Father might have a heart attack when he hears.”

You give your brother a gentle, appreciative smile, grateful for his approval as he takes your hand in his.

“Lady Manderly and Lord Stark, while your marriage will not take place here we will celebrate in your absence. King’s Landing is forever indebted to the hospitality and strength continuously provided by the Starks.” The Queen says, raising her glass to you and Cregan.

Those around you celebrated and drank, relishing in the most joyous of occasions. Queen Rhaenyra successfully ascended the throne, the tournament had been historic, Winterfell had emerged near victorious, the Stark bloodline would soon carry on.

“It is unfortunate we cannot get drunk on this piss wine.” Cregan says, playing with his cup.

“Didn’t I tell you earlier I had a surprise for you, my betrothed?” You say, lifting your dress to reveal a little metallic flask tied to your leg. He looks at you, raising his eyebrow and smirking.

“Shall we retire for the night?” He asks.

You take his hand and the both of you slip out the door, in search of another place to “cool off.”

#hotd #hotd season 2 #cregan hotd #hotd cregan #cregan fanfiction #cregan x you #cregan smut #cregan x y/n #cregan stark #cregan stark smut #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #team black #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd smut

756 notes · View notes

lunajay33 · 4 months ago

Text

It’s You❤️‍🔥

Summary: You went along with Bella to Italy to save Edward, but when you get there things go unexpectedly and you become mate to the strongest Volturi guard

Pairing: Felix x human female reader

•Masterlist•

Moving into your uncles house a year ago to help him with daily chores and just keeping him company was a nice change from the hot dry weather I was use to when I lived with my mom before she passed, another reason Charlie had to take me in which I was incredibly grateful for, then a few months after I moved in my cousin Bella moved back from Arizona and she became very secretive, I swear some nights I’d hear two voices coming through our shared wall, whenever I tried to question her about it but she’d always brush me off just saying she was up late talking to her mom on the phone

Eventually I got fed up with all the secrets and the way she was treating me like I wasn’t even in her life, so on a rare sunny day I decided to go over to the cullens house, basically Bella’s second home, I pulled up into the drive way amazed by how gorgeous this house was, sure Carlisle was a doctor but this had to be old money to get a house like this around this area

I got out of my old car and knocked three times against the door, after a while and a few faint angry whispers Bella finally opened the door which I find odd since this isn’t her house

“Y/n what are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here”

“I’ve had enough of the secrets and how you’ve treated me, we’re family Bella and I’m alone here I just want to be close again like we were as kids”

“Well we’re not kids anymore y/n I have my own life” she said a hint of anger laced with worry in her voice

“I’m not asking for your attention 24/7 I just want a friend” I said upset as I fiddled with my fingers

“Okay im sorry im just stressed, ill make a better effort”

And after that we spent a bit more time together, then Edward left, him and his whole family just up and left leaving Bella in a deep despair, her sorrowful shrieking screams at night draining me and Charlie, and the worst was I didn’t know how to help, I tried getting her out of the house or even just sitting in the living room with her to keep her company but I could still see how broken she was

After months and her seeing Jacob she slowly started to get better, one night I was up in my room reading when a commotion broke out downstairs, I ran down seeing Bella, Jake and Alice arguing in the kitchen

“What the hell is going on?” But before anyone answered Alice spoke

“Bella it’s Edward, Rosalie told him why I came, he thinks he’s dead, he wants to die too” everything was moving so fast, Bella and Alice were running out to her car and I was still in the dark with everything

“Bella what’s going on you’re scaring me” I said looking through the car window

“I can’t explain I have to go”

“Well you’re not going without me, I’ve stuck with you through this and I’m not leaving now” I said matter of factly hopping in the back, Alice gave Bella a wary look before she speed off to the airport, having no clue where we were going until we landed, when Alice finally told me we were in Italy, the scenery zooming past as she drove through town after town until we came upon a old castle town, swerving through a crowd all dressed in robes, Bella went running off and Alice found somewhere to park as we too started making our way through the crowd on foot now

“Alice you still haven’t told me what’s going on” she gave me a gentle smile as we came upon the castle

“You’ll find out soon enough, all I can say is that your life is about to change” her words sent nervous butterflies fluttering in my belly

With what must have been a surge of adrenaline Alice broke the lock on the castle door and we entered feeling the cold air breeze over me, cooling me down from the hot Italian heat

Seeing Edward with Bella and he looked dreadful and just behind them a shorter blonde man with piercing ruby red eyes, accompanied by a very tall man and as my eyes gazed over his body from his feet all the way up to his eyes my world stopped, I felt this pull to him like I’ve never felt before, a man I don’t know had this hold on me that I never wanted to get out of, our eyes never looking away from eachother until a smaller girl broke our trance

“Aro sent me to see what was taking so long”

“I won’t be needing your assistance anymore”

“Never the less aro would like a word”

Alice squeezed my shoulder reassuringly as we all followed the blonde girl into a now crammed elevator, with the lack of space my back was pressed up against the tall beautiful man with the ruby eyes

As my adrenaline finally faded away I was left with the realization that I have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into, Alice’s super strength, the ruby eyes of the strangers around me, the secrecy , it was finally scaring me feeling my heart beat so hard I could hear it and if on air a big hand gently rubbed up and down my back slowly settling my nerves, normally having a strange man touch me would have me running for the hills but there was just something about this ethereal man that I don’t even know the name of, that soothed my soul, like nothing bad could ever happen as long as I’m by his side

The elevator stopped with a ding, opening to reveal a long stone hallway with torches perched on the walls, giving a very eerie vibe to the whole situation, his hand still on my lower back leading me in the direction everyone else was walking til we got to these big doors that his touch went away making me whine for some reason

The little blonde girl pushed open the huge doors effortlessly to show a gorgeous marble room with three thrones with three men sat upon them

“Sister they send you out for two and you come back with two and a two half’s” a younger guy said as the blonde girl went and stood by his side

“Ahhhh Bella is alive fantastic” on of the three men stated standing infront of us

“And who is this?” He said glancing at me with those similar ruby eyes

“It seems one of our family has found their mate” the other glum man said

“What? Mate? What do you mean? Please just someone tell me what is happening” I asked overwhelmed as my bottom lip wobbled

“Oh dear…..may I?” The enthusiastic man asked as he held out his hand

Confused but I placed mine in his as he stared deep into my eyes

“It seems this beautiful girl doesn’t know a thing about us, she merely came to support her cousin”

“Felix how about you take her to your room and explain everything as we deal with this situation here”

“Yes master” his hand was on my back again as he led me out of the room back into the hallway

“Felix…..I like that name” his name sounded nice, sounded right, he looked down at me with the most loving look I could have ever seen

“And what might your name be mio amore?”

“Y/n…I’m y/n”

“Beautiful, a beautiful name for the most beautiful girl” I’ve never been treated like this before and it had my heart soaring

Finally we made it to a wonderful spacious room, the ceiling high, brown stone walls with red and black accent decor, with a glamorous bed in the corner with red silk sheets

“Sit my darling” he said gesturing to the bed so we sat face to face, he gently took my hands in his like I was made of glass

“What did he mean? Am I your mate? And what does that mean?”

“I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out but……we are vampires and so are the cullens, vampires have mates and some of us are lucky enough to find them, we’d do anything for our mates like I’ll do anything for you, to make you happy and safe”

His words had me frozen……vampires were real? And I’m mated to one, a gorgeous one at that but still this was all so much

“This…..this is a lot to handle Felix, I mean this is all so new to me I’ve never had a relationship before and definitely not with a vampire, sure you’re extremely handsome but I still don’t know what to do” his smile softened then slowly turned into a smirk

“You think I’m handsome little one?” He asked tucking a strand of hair behind my ear making the blood rush to my cheeks

“Of course anyone with eyes can see that”

“You never have to be worried with me, we can take this slowly, I’ve waited forever for you amore, I can wait a little longer until you’re comfortable” his hand caressing my cheek

I felt more relaxed at his words

“So what now? Do I have to go back to forks? If I do we will never see eachother” my heart clenched at the thought

“If your heart desires you can stay here, but only if that’s what you want, because I know my heart couldn’t handle us being apart, but it’s whatever you want tessoro”

“I……I want to be with you Felix, please”

“Then you will stay with my little one” I had the answer to Alice’s words, my life was going to change but all for the better

Comment if you wanna be tagged in this series❤️

Part.2

414 notes · View notes

star1ight0 · 7 months ago

Text

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader "Warm Hands". Period comfort!

I died today exams are coming up and my body decided that I must suffer, endometriosis is no joke. PERIOD COMFORT.

Katsuki was never one for comfort, partly because he never really got it himself so giving it was like standing in cold water. The first time you and Katsuki were together during your period you kept to yourself not wanting to bother him with your mood swings.

He quickly caught on blowing it off as you having an off week. The second time around he was a little more observant noticing how you got more upset over simple work and how you seemed to always have a stomach ache in class.

One Ill fated day you ran out of pads quickly running to Momo giving her a knowing look, she handed you her bag as you ran off. That was only the start of your shitty day. The pills you took to kill your cramps had worn off so now you're suffering in class. Things took a turn for the worse after lunch when whatever the cafeteria food seemed to kill your stomach.

Back in class holding your stomach you left for the bathroom holding your stomach as your lunch betrayed you. After a few minutes of suffering on the bathroom floor, apparently Aizawa felt the need to send Momo to check on you. She helped you up and to recovery girl, not that she could do much but let you rest.

After class Katsuki made his way to the nurses office, seeing you curled in a ball with a bottle of pain killers next to you "The hell happened to you?" He spoke in a rather mean tone but you could still feel the sincerity of his words "Cramps" you said sitting up wrapping your hands around his waist. After a few minutes you grab his hand and get up.

He walks you back to your dorm letting you lean most of your body weight on him most the walk there. Not having any food in your system you felt your body weaken using what little energy you had to lay down. Katsuki watches you curl in a ball a soft yet concerning look still ligers. "I'll make you some soup. Don't die while I'm gone" he says gruffly placing a kiss on your head

When he returns he has a tray with soup, some warm tea and chocolate? You look up at him a bit confused "Why the chocolate?" You say still slightly dazed. "Im not a complete moron.. plus I ran into Momo and she told me" he says the second half is almost incoherent.

You look up at him with a smile holding his rather warm hands to your cold ones. The blissful moment is rudely interrupted by the feeling of a cramp in your lower stomach. Clenching your stomach holding back the tears that had been compiled caused by the many cramps and stress of the day.

A slight groan manages to escape your lips as you feel the side if you bed sink in next to you. Not saying anything you feel your boyfriend pull you towards him. "Where does it hurt" he says avoiding your slightly confused gaze you place his hands on your lower stomach leaning into his touch.

One main up side of Katsuki's quirk was his body radiated more heat then the average person, more so in his hands. "Thank you" you say slowly dozing off.

When you awake you feel your boyfriend's hands still wrapped around you. You walk to the bathroom taking care of yourself. When you come back Katsuki is still asleep so you crawl back on the bed laying in his lap.

The day continues with one similar to the one before.

Sorry this one was a little weird and shorter than I wanted. I'm tired, sick and sleepy but wanted to write this.

Requests are open!

#bakugou katsuki #mha x reader comfort #period comfort #x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #fanfiction #sick comfort #gender neutral reader #bnha comfort #mha bakugou #mha comfort #momo yaoyorozu #aizawa shouta #Spotify

888 notes · View notes

ghostieblr · 4 days ago

Text

he knows

When people ask him what changed his mind, why he's back in Beacon Hills instead of at the fancy FBI job he earned through merit and luck, he just smiles and laughs it up. Insists this is how it just worked out. That the job was good, and being in the field was surprisingly easy for him, but the remote research work landed on his lap once and he realized he'd much rather do that. Working the field was great, but being able to actually spend time with his old man gives him more joy.

The old ladies call him a good man, tell him he's such a good son, and share their own turmoils with him. The old men sneer at his choice until he lets slip just how much he makes, and then they're singing praises, too.

After a couple of weeks, the noise dies down. He is no longer the novelty, the townspeople ready to move on to the next new, shiny thing that catches their attention.

What doesn't die down is whatever is spreading inside him. The burn under his skin is licking up towards his heart, coming out through his pores, charring him to immobility as the sun dips down and comes back up.

After week three, he's unable to move from the bed, and none of their research is bringing about any clues. No one knows why this is happening to him, and they have all accepted this.

That he is going to die. There's no coming back, no cure for this sudden illness that has taken him. None of the books that Deaton provides, that Lydia translates and pours her time into, have a single clue.

It's not as painful, if he's honest. Not now. It was at the beginning, the heat sudden and startling, the pain that comes with it bright and unending. But he's been with it for a while now, gotten used to the constant warmth. A false sense of security.

The only thing left for him is to stop feeling altogether. At the rate his body is shutting down, it's not too far, now. Another day or two, maybe three if he's unlucky.

He's said his goodbyes. Told his father to keep on living, to not only honor the memory of mom, but his, too. There's grief laced in each of their interactions, each word spoken with a weight that brings tears to Stiles' eyes and a tremble that rocks his father's body. It's an ugly sight, and it so happens to be his last. Nearly his last.

His dad's a strong man, he'll survive. He's enlisted the help of Lydia to do so. Asked her to be the child he'll not get to be for him. Through teary eyes she had agreed, and he's watched the two of them get closer in their quest of trying to heal him, and then grieve him. She's like the daughter he never had, and she is good for him. Stops him from drinking alcohol and makes him healthy food, even when he refuses to listen, and Stiles can do nothing but lay on his bed as the voices float up from the kitchen.

Scott and him never did resolve their differences. Scott's been a part of his life enough to warrant him a last goodbye, and despite everything that has happened, Scott promised to him to be there for his dad. He promised many things, but has delivered none, and has only been by to see him on day one — when Stiles had allowed Lydia to bring in the McCall Pack to help him cure himself.

It's as if Stiles being dead was an accepted outcome for him, and Scott has grieved him to the point of utter indifference since. If he's grieving in silence that's another thing, but for now, Stiles isn't dead. People do come in and see him.

Lydia, of course. His dad. Jackson flew from London to come see him, and he hasn't left since, feet set like stone in Beacon Hills, despite the final acceptance of their failure. Isaac came with Jackson, and it's so silly, he thinks, that being on the verge of death can bring together people you would never see in one place by choice.

Kira has stopped by multiple times, as have Malia, Liam, Mason, Jordan, and surprisingly, Hayden. She insisted he's a hero, and cried while hugging him.

Scott hasn't come again. And, honestly, it's not as bothersome to Stiles as someone else not coming in to see him.

Cora has face-timed him, and Peter was there, he knows. The two of them were there, and when he'd asked about Derek, Cora had snapped out, "He's an idiot," while Peter had calmly told Stiles, "He's determined."

Stiles is smart enough to put together the fact that Derek has been pursuing his own leads to find the cure, but he'd hoped that once the finality of his situation reached him, he'd see Derek one last time.

He wouldn't burden Derek with the knowledge of his own feelings. Wouldn't confess like in the fairytales, and hope for a true love's miracle. Stiles is honest to himself these days, and he'd rather go with unconfessed feelings than burden Derek, because somewhere in their interactions, Stiles has developed a pure hatred for anything that could even remotely hurt Derek.

He supposes this is love, and how ironic is it, that this is the most intense feeling he's ever had, and he can't even speak aloud about it?

So he lounges in his bed, waiting for the light to take him. Each time he closes his eyes he knows he's closer to never opening them again, and tonight, as he hears Lydia turn the pages of a book, and Jackson walking outside in the hallway, and his dad sobbing in his own room, and Isaac cooking, he just wishes tonight's the night. He cannot have the people he care about clinging onto false hope.

He closes his eyes, and behind his eyelids, he sees his family. He sees his mom, beckoning him; his parents, smiling, as he runs towards them for a family hug; Lydia, when she told him she loves him in the Jeep, and the night when he came back, declaring that he's not supposed to leave her, ever; Jackson and Isaac laughing at his expense, but not in a mean way, instead enjoying each other's company like the friends they've become these days; Derek, as the last time Stiles saw him, smiling softly at him while he rambled on about the way he convinced the FBI to let him join the mission that saved Derek's ass.

He remembers, with immense clarity, the moment he realized he's in love with Derek. The heartbreak of saying goodbye to him, of watching his brows furrow at the clear lie of, "You should go," and hesitant step forward he'd taken before realizing it.

He'd said, "You should go or Cora will leave," and left the, "I want her to," unsaid.

He sleeps, and wishes to dream about a world where Derek didn't leave and things happened differently. Where somehow, they found their way to each other, and Stiles never got ill like this.

Instead, he dreams about a purple light guiding him to a tunnel that simply looks white, like that is all there is.

He follows.

He doesn't wake up, again.

At least, that's what he thinks — until his eyes open and he's face-to-face with —

"Derek?"

The whole place is white. The only splash of color exists on Stiles himself, his clothes rumpled with sleep, and on Derek, whose jeweled eyes are shimmering with unshed tears and sparkling joy.

"Derek, what the hell did you do?!"

Derek doesn't deem that a question worthy of replying. Instead the werewolf picks him up and hugs him so tight Stiles worries about not being able to breathe, and then realizes, with a startling clarity, that he is not in pain.

Still in embrace, he asks, a little choked up, "Why am I not in pain?"

Derek takes an exaggerated sniff before reluctantly pulling back and fixing him with a look that screams of resplendent joy, but also like he's waiting for a reprimand. He says, "This is Bardo."

Stiles stills. "Bardo," he repeats. He's dived into enough books to hear what Derek is leaving unsaid. Bardo is where spirits go after dying. It's an in-between space for spirits with unfinished business, one that opens only on a land with a Nemeton on it. Beacon Hills fits the criteria for it, and Stiles the criteria for having wishes he didn't get in his life, but he doesn't... He doesn't fit the other criteria. "Derek Nobody Will Tell Me What Your Middle Name Is Hale, that place — which apparently is this place, what the hell — is for supernatural spirits. Me?" He laughs, humorless and frantic. "I am not a supernatural creature. I'm just a human who used to run with a Pack."

Derek's worry melts away into nothing, as if Stiles would miss the fact that for Derek to be here, he has to be dead.

"Don't think I don't understand that you're dead, too! Deliberately!"

There. That is the face of a chastised puppy. "But it worked?" Stiles squints his eyes and motions for Derek to go on, who sighs but complies with the command. "The illness that took you was a Supernatural fever, last recorded with a Spark centuries ago. I tracked down the journal —"

"Wait, hold on, Spark? Where have I heard that word..." The Vet clinic, years ago. The Kanima in the club. The mountain ash line that never should have formed because there was much too less of it to complete the circle. As the realization hits, he closes his eyes and rests his fists against them. He isn't ashamed to let out a scream of rage as well.

When he lets his arms fall back down to his side, Derek takes one of them and starts rubbing comforting circles on the back of his hand. "You are one," he says softly, like he's trying not to spook Stiles with the declaration. Like Stiles' world didn't just shift irrevocably as he put the pieces together. "I don't really understand why your powers never unlocked, because traditionally speaking they should have kicked in your teen years. With the added clusterfuck of those years they definitely should have. They did not."

Again, he laughs humorlessly, and gives Derek a "duh" look. "Our lives have rarely dared to be traditional." He thinks back to all the awful things that have happened over the years to him, but mostly, as Derek put it, in those years. The Nogitsune was definitely the worst thing to happen to him, and holy shit. "Do you think it chose me because of my power? Rather than her?"

Derek doesn't answer for a moment. Then he says, "I think that is why you survived. Because of your Spark."

Oh. That... makes sense. Sort of. But that is the past, and they're in the present, and they're in fucking Bardo of all places. "Derek, I think I really need an explanation. Like right now. Including why you thought killing yourself was the best fucking idea."

Derek winces, but he also looks determined once Stiles' glare eases off of him. And they're still holding hands, which he realizes with a warmth he actually enjoys feeling. "When I got the call, I had an inkling... So I followed my instincts and ended up at probably our oldest vault."

"You knew what I am." He doesn't even feel angry. Somehow, Derek knowing a thing about him that nobody else does (and he is not counting Deaton as a factor here at all, that cryptic asshole), it feels nice.

Derek uses his free hand to tap at his chest, once, twice. "Instincts," he says, with the same effect as saying, "Werewolf," like he once used to, as if that was the answer to everything. "This illness confirmed it for me. I found a journal at the vault that belonged to that Spark, and in it, he detailed how the illness felt, how it spread, and how within weeks he could do nothing but lay on his cot." Derek swallows, his voice turning rough with choked up emotions. "Stiles, just reading it was so awful. I can't imagine..."

Derek Hale doesn't cry. He feels deeply, and he cares even deeper, but he doesn't cry, not in front of people.

But Stiles is not most people, and he is aware enough to know that he is, for some reason, one of the people who is most important to Derek. So as Derek breaks down at the idea of Stiles' suffering, Stiles reaches forward and brings his arms around Derek.

"I'm here," he assures, over and over again, until the words are stronger than Derek's shaking. "I'm right here," he says one last time, and stays close to the man he loves most for an indeterminate amount of time, silently not-breathing together.

Stiles breaks the silence with, "I love you, you know?" He had promised to not say it to Derek. To not burden him. But here they are, in Bardo. Together. A Pack of two who would do all that is possible and all that is not to protect the other. Derek deserves to know he is loved.

The way Derek's arms tighten around him says he doesn't know. And when Derek pulls back, just a little to stare at Stiles like this is unbelievable, Stiles pulls him back in by grabbing his hands and putting one on his chest, the other on his face. He kisses the inner palm of the latter, and smiles brightly. "Never thought I'd say it. Especially once I was on my deathbed. Still hate that you chose to die with me, but I'm hoping you have a plan, and you deserve to know. You're amazing and I love you, Derek Hale."

The smile he gets is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, and Derek presses forward until their foreheads are resting against each other's. "Samuel," he says.

"Derek Samuel Hale? Samuel like Sam and Dean's grandpa?"

Derek does a snort-chortle thing, then says in the small space between them, "Shut up, Stiles."

"Shutting up."

The silence stretches, and they stay together, seizing the moment. Who knew Bardo could be peaceful? Except...

"Our escape plan? See, I'd love to explore you biblically anywhere and everywhere, but I would much rather do it on —"

"Stiles."

Derek's look of scandalized horror makes Stiles laugh until he's being hauled off in his strong, muscled arms like a sack of potatoes and starts walking. "I don't know why I love you too."

"This is just sexy. I don't think you know what you're doing to me."

"I can still smell your arousal, Stiles. I know."

"You know loads of things. What else do you know?" He says it in a simpering, sexy voice, and then giggles as Derek stumbles a step before balancing himself.

"I know how to escape. We need a bed, yes? So stop distracting me and let me do my thing."

Stiles is just glad he is already in Derek's arms, because otherwise he would have swooned and fallen into them.

The escape plan is easy and a let down, if he's being completely honest. What they need are:

A Spark's Belief ✅️

An Alpha's Roar ✅️ (When did Derek become an Alpha again?)

An Anchor on The Other Side ✅️ (Peter)

An Incantation That Derek Has Memorized ✅️

To Stand Where The Veil is Thinnest ✅️ (Derek's instincts strike yet again)

All in all, it is very anti-climactic, and very dirty as they end up materializing in a clearing near the Nemeton which is muddy. Peter looks one look at them and says, "Finally."

Stiles isn't sure if he meant it for them coming back or for Stiles and Derek finally confessing to each other. Either way, Peter hands them clean clothes and agrees to drive them back to Stiles' house, where apparently everyone is in a panic because "Stiles dissappeared."

"It's only been like, an hour or something," Stiles says, confused, as he changes into the clean t-shirt while Peter faces the other way and Derek stares, unabashed, much to Peter's verbal disgust.

Peter takes a break from chastising his nephew to say, "It's been 72 hours."

Huh.

"We should get going then," he says, and Peter sighs.

"If only you could ask my dear nephew to rein in his urges."

Stiles throws Derek a glare, who rolls his eyes but obliges. However the glare the turns into an appreciative look over Derek's abs, and Peter throws up his hands.

Acclimating to having magic is easy when he already has an anchor. Derek's presence is both wanted and needed, and despite Scott's insistence that another Alpha cannot stay in town, Derek stays as long as Stiles does.

Two weeks pass before Stiles calls back his boss and lets her know that he's now alright, and then he's promptly being shipped off to another state for a case. Everyone has already congratulated him on both being alive and doing something about his pining, so they throw a simple dinner on his last night in town and Stiles watches, with amusement and fondness, as all the people in his heart mingle with easy conversations and banter.

Peter chooses to stay in town to reconnect with Malia in person, while Cora deems it better to go back to her Pack in South America. Lydia and Jackson leave together for London, but Isaac decides to stay back.

When Stiles asks him why, he says, "Liam needs a good mentor. His control is weak. I can help him, plus, Derek needs a pack."

Stiles raises an eyebrow. "Liam is Scott's beta," he says.

"None of them have a pack bond," Isaac fire backs, and oh.

Derek must have heard the conversation, too, because he comes over and claps Isaac on the back, proud and all smiley, and Stiles can't help but lean in to kiss it. To taste the constant joy off of Derek's face, to give him his own in return. The action is met with Derek's soft moan and a ring of disgusted groaning from the others, including his dad's.

Stiles laughs after he pulls back, and looks around at the lot of them. There's tragedy woven into all of their lives, but there's also happiness.

Who knew getting ill would lead to this? To re-founding a family?

Maybe Derek knew, the bastard. Loveable bastard, though.

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #sterek fics #teen wolf #sh.writesonmain #*sterek fic recs #my laptop still isn't fixed so for now this is gonna stay on tumblr only #i'll put this on ao3 later

190 notes · View notes

ms0milk · 2 years ago

Text

when you suddenly catch a nasty cold

gn!reader ft. todo, bkg, kiri, and (hearts in my eyes) shinsou

i am so ill and these are so silly, indulge me :,) 600ish words ea.

Todoroki starts to cry when you joke about dying.

He’s bought more flowers than can fit into your little apartment, picked up your prescriptions, tissues, juice, a heating pad, cleaned your kitchen, tucked you in– he paged the fucking family physician– but watching you shiver under a heavy duvet, surrounded by all the things that are supposed to help you get better, ignites a fear he didn’t know that he had. They aren’t working. You’re still sick because of course you are, and he can’t bring himself to move more than an arm’s length away from you because what if– if he leaves and–

“Shoto?”

“Yes,” his response is immediate when you pull him from the ether. Always is.

I’m not going anywhere,” you croak, too conscious of how strange your voice sounds, “so you don’t have to stay with me all day.”

“I don’t mind.”

Todoroki is a wonderful boyfriend but when was the last time he went to the bathroom?

“You must be bored.”

He leans over you from his spot at the side of your bed and runs a blessedly too-cold hand across your forehead. Bored? Like he could calm down enough for that. “I can’t relax when you’re like this.”

You’d roll your eyes if they ached less, at your beautiful boyfriend and his cluelessly shoujo declarations of love framed by no fewer than two whole flower shops worth of camellias. He turns his hand over to palm your cheeks and wipe the water from your puffy eyes.

“Would you like me to leave?”

You shake your head, smiling under the weight of an overkill of blankets and the heavy dip from his butt at the edge of your mattress. You’re inclined to reach a hand out to grab it, but you don’t have the energy to raise your head let alone fondle your boyfriend.

“There’s no one I’d rather be with in my final hours,” you rasp, joking, obviously joking.

This cold is something evil, chills, aches, snot– the works. But you couldn’t ask for a better nurse. A gentle, thoughtful, sexy, temperature controlled man, a man you would raze the city for, whose hand fits so perfectly in yours and who– whose trembling? You blink back up.

Todoroki’s features don’t shift or soften, his lip doesn’t quiver, but a tear does slip down his cheeks from those pool cool eyes– one after the next until his jaw is lined with them all patiently waiting to fall from his chin.

“Why, why why?” You panic and try to sit up but he comes to you. Todoroki cups your hand tightly in a hot and cold grip and bows over his own lap to rest his head in yours.

“You’re not going to die.”

“What?”

“I promise.”

“Sho, what– no of course I’m not. What’s wrong, baby?”

Your voice is so weak that he has no other choice than to sit back up and reach for the cold compress. He wipes his eyes with renewed determination when he turns back around, “I’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you, Sho. ’m not going anywhere, promise.”

And when the Todoroki family doctor lets himself in, he does consider coming back another time at the sight of you, finally comfortable under a mountain of fabric, and your love curled around you asleep on top of the blankets.

———

It’s not until you genuinely collapse that Bakugou realizes something is wrong. He didn’t even hit you that hard.

“You’re wide open today!” The restless pro looms across the arena, grinning. You both come to the agency’s underground ring on Saturdays to train and he’s blasted you clear across the room like he’s actually working for a paycheck.

There wasn’t any amount of money you would have accepted to get out of bed this morning but Bakugou, a less than casual hookup from work, accidentally spent the night and the surprisingly sleep soft rumble of his voice, the gentle kneed of palms as he pulled you back against his body under dawn light– was, persuasive.

The sooner we finish, the sooner I can go home and nurse this headache.

Headache. Naive self-convincing circles your head as you pull yourself to your feet like spinning stars from a goddamned cartoon. This is not a headache. Standing was fine a second ago, and the floor was fine a second ago, but the move from floor to feet fills your sinuses with sudden pressure and immediately the arena starts to swirl.

“C’mon twinkle toes, you’re– Y/n– shit–”

You’re not interested in where that sentence ends today and you blessedly don’t have to hear it because your ears have filled with cotton and you’re sinking back down to your knees. You’ve been congested like this before– it’ll pass in a minute or two, you know how it goes and you’re only embarrassed by the fact you were down so bad for your teammate this morning that you didn’t realize how your body had started to feel.

The vertigo eases somewhat when you rest your head on the ground, but Bakugou has cleared the empty room and already has his domineering hands all over you. “Y/n? Y/n– do not close your eyes.”

“‘m not concussed, Kats.” But you know the explosive hero’s first fear isn’t exactly a head trauma. “You didn’t hurt me,” you add.

“Doesn’t narrow it down shitforbrains,” the aggressive tone doesn’t match his anxious hold though, and you melt a little when he kneels and pulls you into his lap, “if I didn’t hurt you then what’s wrong?”

Bakugou definitely doesn’t like the way your head seems too heavy for your neck and tilts himself back just enough for you to lean it against his chest. You look so fucking uncomfortable, scowling, eyes pinched closed. “What hurts?” He rasps as he moves to feel your temperature but his palms are sweating hard from a few quirk ignitions so he stalls, and lowers his forehead to yours instead. You’re soft where he touches you, warm in his hands.

You just need to sit, you don't need the #2 hero to cradle you in his arms like a corpse on the battlefield. Your eyes squeeze shut harder as a tiny wave rocks you in the dark and then suddenly one ear releases. “Think I’m getting sick,” you breathe. Carmel in and relief out. “It’s my head–”

“Head hurts?”

“I’m just stuffed up, I–” the other ear releases, “— just dizzy.”

Bakugou sits on his heels, perched. Should he pick you up? It’s terrifying to watch– you, his teammate, a capable hero, suddenly unable to stand.

But as the pressure behind your eyes levels out you can lift your head without discomfort. You can bring your arms up around Bakugou’s shoulders and settle your fingers in his hair. Bring him back down from where he’s tried to pull away.

Your foreheads bump again, “I’m okay.”

He growls, “I don’t believe you.”

So the hero takes you home. He makes sure you’re horizontal and goddamned tucked in before he slips from your front door and scares the shit out of you an hour later with a vice grip on some grocery bags and your apartment keys slipped around his middle finger. It’s almost romantic, the way he snaps at you to hold still while he dabs antiseptic on your scratches from sparring, or glares venom from behind the stove when you hobble to the kitchen to see what smells so good.

———

When Kirishima lets himself in and you’re asleep on the kitchen floor, worry overrides his confusion.

You won’t pick up his calls, but he’s never missed a movie night and he’s not about to start today. He throws your front door open with his copy of your apartment key and kicks off his gym crocs as loudly as he can manage so you might hear him come in. The last thing he wants is to startle you.

But you’re the one who nearly kills him when he slips through the genkan, arms full of snacks and catches sight of your slippered foot stretched out on the ground around the corner.

He’s on his hands and knees faster than he can even take a full step, dropping bottles and soft melon bread from his arms as he scrambles to where you must be lying lifeless on the other side of the entrance.

“Y/n–! Ah, huh.”

And you are, in a way, lifeless on the ground, but you’re breathing. And smiling? Curled up on the white tiles in front of the sink cabinet.

“Y/n?” Kirishima doesn’t wait to ponder, instead placing a hand on the side of your head to check for concussion, wound, vertebral injury—But you coo, something completely unintelligible, and you’re much too warm. You tilt your face into his palm and every inch of you is hotter, damper than the next.

“Y/n? C’mon on back to me Y/n, gotta tell me what’s wrong.”

Maybe it’s the chill of the floor or the addition of his other hand cupping your cheek, but your lashes heft apart just enough to register who it is trying to resuscitate you in the kitchen.

“Ei?”

Kirishima, always handy in a fire, has every hospital route an EMT could ever need memorized from all his volunteer work with the fire department and mentally tracks each one as you try to form a sentence.

“shouldn’t be here, Eiji, m’sick.”

“What?”

“flu,” you murmur and pull your hands to your side to try and rise. Kirishima doesn’t register anything not directly related to whether or not you’re suffering from blunt force trauma– except for the fact he could recall the exact date and time your dream drowsy smile falls and perks back up again tonight for the next fifty years.

“–tried to text you,” you manage as the redhead helps you sit up. The sentence comes out in gasps instead of coughs as you try to spare the air of any extra germs, “I can’t watch the movie tonight."

He laughs with pent up anxiety and simultaneous relief– he’s taken that charming fireman’s knee at your side and you wish in your flu-addled state that you’d stayed unconscious long enough for him to hoist you into his arms. Instead, Kirishima places both of his big soft hands back around your face to brush away the dust and crumbs.

“Why are you on the floor?”

“got hungry,” you admit because you know it’ll make him smile, and with his face this close to yours you’ll be able to watch the skin around his eyes crinkle up too. “Then tired, little dizzy. I just needed to sit for a bit.”

His eyes do crinkle up. And his teeth bit at his lip like he’s trying not to be amused.

“Y/n, you are very sick. And very sweaty.” And the sweetheart, the biggest crush you’ve ever had, your closest friend, the man you dreamed of on the kitchen floor, asks if he can carry you to the bath.

———

Why are you breathing so hard? Shinsou is the only pro in the office that you can’t hide a fucking thing from. Maybe it’s because he works primarily in the underground– observant– that it’s obvious, the way you wobble on your feet when your eyes are closed too long, or the sudden effort it takes you just to climb the stairs.

How can he focus on paperwork with you trying to subtly catch your breath in every hallway? None of your sidekicks are brave enough to ask why you wore a mask to work today, but it’s summer and the air pollution gets bad enough that some of them have to too. Are they really all that stupid? Has he done the worst hiring job of any pro in the city?

“Shinsou,” you murmur across the now-empty end of day office and he whips around because god knows how many times you’ve tried to get his attention while he’s been off in space.

“Yeah boss?”

Your voice is rough with sick when you reply and it would be so fucking sexy if it didn’t remind him to be so anxious about your wellbeing. “I’ve told you not to call me that, haven’t been my sidekick for years,” and then you’re smiling even as you hold back a cough, “makes me feel old.”

“You are older than me.”

“By a year!” you sputter and then your lungs take over, heaving and hacking so hard you have to double over your desk to steady your forehead against something. Shinsou’s on his feet immediately, navigating the office in sweats and his capture gear.

What happened? This morning it was just a tickle at the top of your throat but the aches sank from your head, down your spine, and flooded through your body just as quickly as the sun’s shadow crawls across a stone. Which is to say, all day long and all too slowly to realize you probably should have called in sick.

“Here.” A cool hand materializes on the back of your neck and you roll your head to the side to check what exactly has arrived for you. With his free hand Shinsou presses a paper water cup forward, which you’d love to take if you had the energy to pull your mask down.

“went to school together n’ everything,” you breathe.

“Boss, you should go home for the night, I’ll– I can finish this paperwork.”

By now the dark-eyed hero has sunk slowly into a crouch beside your chair and keeps a careful hand on your back to ensure you don’t slip to the floor sideways one way or the other. Thank god he sent the rookies home because stupid or otherwise, you'd have to be braindead not to notice this adoration that he can’t seem to get a handle on.

“Shinsou,” you murmur again, just as sexily as last time and he feels just as much if not more shame at how lovely it is to hear you call to him sweet and low, “I can’t get up.”

“What?”

That’s it though. There’s no trick or test. Shinsou has a fucked up sleep schedule from all his overnight patrols so he always stays in the office late, but you? You’ve been trying to rally for the last two hours and now you’ve used all your energy teasing a man whose eyes go bright every time you say his name. It serves you right, collapsing at your desk after using the last of your strength to squeeze as many Shinsous as you could into an evening.

“call me a taxi?”

He rises to his feet, “Will you even be able to get up your front steps?”

“sure hope so.”

“Do you feel nauseous?” He’s shuffling around the room now, plucking keys from hooks, and you watch him sideways with your head still resting in the day’s paperwork. “You gonna aspirate if I let you go home alone?”

“if god’s feeling extra silly”

He scoffs to hide the smile. Shinsou returns to your side to lay his faded denim jacket over your shoulders and then crouches again at eye level.

“Y/n,” he urges, and rests a hand to the back of your head to get your attention, “If I carry you downstairs, will you be able to hold onto me?”

Downstairs is a bluff. With you snug and mostly unconscious between his jacket and his back, Shinsou carries you home. Face full of your clothes, hair, quirk, whatever’s getting in his eyes, under the stars, and down back streets to avoid any publicity, the hero tries to walk gently enough that you don’t whimper from the impact of his steps.

“Thank you Toshi,” you whisper just when he thinks you’ve finally fallen asleep and the big bad underground pro almost stumbles hard enough to fly.

#i think i probably need firefighter kirishima inside of me #shinsou wanting to fuck his pretty boss now has a gravitational pull that teeters on allconsuming #todoroki x reader #kirishima x reader #shinsou x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha drabble #mha drabble #does anyone spell it #shinso x reader #?#that feels psychotic

4K notes · View notes

icycoldninja · 1 month ago

Text

Dating Illumi headcannons

That's him looking at ur search history

-Clueless idiot, this one. You wouldn't expect this since he's quite intelligent, but he's borderline retarded when it comes to love.

-Wasn't even sure what that was at first. He thought the fluttering in his stomach and the surge of heat that follows was a warning sign of some kind of disease.

-He ended up avoiding you because he was sure you'd spread a sickness to him. It wasn't until about a week later did Illumi realize the symptoms weren't going away, regardless of what medication he took. In fact, they were getting worse.

-Since he was so sure he was gravely ill, he went to you for help. You realized this was a sign of a crush, since you were suffering from the same affliction, but couldn't figure out a way to tell him, so you advised him to seek a doctor.

-A while later, while Illumi wonders why the doctor's advice did nothing to help him, you decide to go and confess your feelings.

-Illumi is very confused during the beginning of your relationship. What is love? Why do people love? What should he do to keep a lady happy? What will his parents think? Things like that keep him up at night.

-You'll basically be in charge, teaching him what to do and how to do it, so on and so forth.

-He has to work a lot (assassinations take a long time) but he texts or calls you whenever he can.

-Lets you play with his hair and dress him up because it both keeps you happy and involve spending time with you. Just don't go overboard.

-Is terrified of bringing you to meet his parents, despite his sad attempts to hide this, and basically ignores you whenever they're around. After this caused a big fight that almost ended in a breakup, he decided to confess the truth. You now try your best to avoid the rest of the Zoldycks, but it's getting harder every day.

-Loves you so much. He loves you a little too much. He loves you so much he sometimes stalks you--but it's all for your wellbeing, definitely not to sate his creepy desires. No. Definitely not.

-Would kill for you, disregarding your relationship to the other party. This is probably self evident by now but it doesn't matter, you still need to be warned. Anyone who messes with you, family, friends, or neither, will die.

-He has a hard time picking up your cues and understanding emotions in general, so bear with him, and help him out.

#Hxh #hunter x hunter #illumi zoldyck #Illumi #hxh illumi #hunter x hunter illumi #illumi x reader #illumi hxh #Headcannons #dating headcannons #icycoldninja writes #illumi zoldyck x reader

157 notes · View notes

callsign-rogueone · 4 months ago

Text

rest

Brennan Sorrengail x chronically ill reader words: 2.5k 🏷: gender neutral reader, use of nicknames sweetheart and honey, implied past FWB-type relationship between reader and Bren. descriptions of pain and sickness (congrats, u now have my symptoms), downward-spiral of self-deprecating thoughts, reader shaming themself for being weak / ill, one (1) suggestion that reader wants to die but they don’t mean it, confessions of love, cuddles. this may be the most self-serving thing I’ve ever written. I wrote it to process my grief and anger about my current situation, but I figured I’d post it for the Brennan girlies and anyone who feels like I do right now and could use a handsome mender boyfriend to make it all better.

The gentle movement of the mattress and the smell of smoke and soap and leather wakes you from your nap — Brennan is back. You roll over to face him, every muscle in your body protesting the movement.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he whispers, brushing the hair from your forehead with gentle fingers. “How are you feeling?”

“Same old,” you murmur.

He lays a hand on your forearm, and the pain dulls. You know better now than to let him block it off completely — he’d done that once before, but when he let go, it was unbearable.

Better to sit with it, not get used to any relief — it’ll only hurt you further when it all comes back, knock the breath right from your lungs and leave you in a heap on the floor, a mess of knots for him to untangle.

He’s done enough for you already. He does enough for everyone. Never anything for himself. Or if he does, you never see it.

“Was worried about you,” he says softly, still stroking your hair.

The idea of him worrying about you makes you feel sicker than you already are, but a different kind of sick. Guilty, maybe. Disgusted — not with him, but with yourself, for being so fucking weak and needy and such a crybaby. You’re a dragon rider, for gods’ sakes.

Or you used to be. You haven’t acted like one in months, and haven’t felt like one for longer than that.

You’d accepted that you’d never fly again, or told yourself that you accepted it, three months ago.

“I can keep fixing the damage, but I don’t know if I can fix what’s causing it,” Brennan had told you in a whisper late one night in this same room, holding you as if he was afraid to let go, that you’d crack and splinter even further if he wasn’t pressing the pieces of you together.

You used to be able to hold yourself together. You used to be able to do a lot of things. To spar with him, to run with your squad and mount a dragon, swim in the ice-cold streams of Tyrrendor with your friends on days off, to spend hours tangled up in bed with him after lights-out, exerting yourselves in other ways.

But then something came and ruined it all. You still don’t know what it was — is. It didn’t come quickly — not one big wave that drowned you, not an assailant that shattered bone and sliced through tissue, but a gradual decline that you didn’t notice until it was too late.

No, you definitely noticed. You just didn’t want to believe it. You made up excuses for everything— reassurances, placating remarks, designed to convince yourself and those around you that there wasn’t anything wrong with you.

You couldn’t sleep through the night, but that was because of the awful things you’d seen that day. But then they started happening even if you hadn’t left the barracks, even if you hadn’t witnessed any horrible sights in weeks.

You couldn’t hold on to your daggers tightly enough, struggled to grip a pen, but that was because you’d injured your hand — but that was only one hand, and months ago. Brennan had mended it for you within minutes of the injury.

Your entire body was aching, all the time, but that was normal with how much riders were required to exert themselves. You just can’t move like you did when you were younger. You aren’t a kid anymore.

But no amount of rest days, no ice or heat or elevation seemed to be enough to recover. That’s the worst of it, really. Being stuck in bed, not by doctor’s orders, not because you physically can’t get up, but because you can’t do anything outside of this room.

Not without pain, anyway, and not without pitying looks and whispered questions about what happened to you — the very same Captain that had rescued an entire squad from certain doom just last year, the most powerful air-wielder in two generations — and concerned words from your colleagues, who miss you, and tell them if you need anything, okay? They’re here for you.

But are they really your colleagues anymore? Is Deòir really your dragon anymore? He hardly speaks to you these days. He’s just too kind to admit that he’s just waiting for you to die, so he can move on, and find a new rider.

Maybe kind isn’t the right word, but you can’t think of a better one right now. It’s hard to think of anything other than how tired and uncomfortable you are.

You used to be top of the class, and now you’re struggling to form complete sentences.

“Talk to me,” Brennan coaxes, still gazing down at you, softness in his eyes.

“You don’t have to keep doing this,” you whisper.

“What?”

“I know we were… involved for a while,” you say carefully, “but you don’t need to do this for me anymore. You can’t keep worrying about me. It takes up too much time that you just don’t have. You’re running a revolution; you have more important shit to do than to play nurse.”

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “Where’s this coming from?” he asks softly. “What happened while I was away?”

“Nothing happened, Brennan. Nothing ever happens in my life anymore, because I spend my entire day, every day, laying here, wishing I was dead.”

You cover your mouth with your hand, but it’s too late. The words are out in the air, and he’s heard them. “I didn’t mean…” you whisper, “I don’t want to die, I just…”

Tears fill your already-blurred vision, but you can see him in front of you, the mass of his chest and shoulders, the slow movement of his arms reaching out to wrap around you and hold you close, to guide you up into his lap.

“I’m just so tired,” you sob, too-long fingernails digging into the black leather of his jacket, your hands too weak to hold on to him properly. “I’m so tired of being tired, and in pain, and feeling useless.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he soothes. “I’ll keep looking. We can look together. We’ll figure out what this is, and how to fix it.”

“We’ve read every book in the library,” you sniff. “We’ve talked to every healer we know.”

“There are other libraries, and other healers,” he replies, as if it’s that simple, that easy. You suppose to him, it is that easy. To him, everything is easy. He’s not the one wasting away here, you are.

Wasting away. Crumbling. Deteriorating.

Decaying.

“Why aren’t you giving up?” you ask quietly. “I’ve given up. Deò has, too. He hasn’t spoken to me in days.”

You know the answer, and it makes you feel sick, but you need to hear it.

Maybe that’s selfish of you, to make him declare it out loud to you, to your face, when you very well might not be alive this time next year to celebrate an anniversary — not that you’d be able to do much celebrating if you were. But that little part of you, the only part that’s left of the old you, from the reality where this could work, needs it — needs him.

“Deò hasn’t given up on you. He went with us, as backup — that’s why he wasn’t responding. And I haven’t given up, either. I’ll never give up, because I love you,” he whispers. “I’ve loved you for years, and I’ll keep loving you as long as I live, and well into whatever afterlife I earn, if such a thing exists.”

You loose another sob, your nails scraping the leather as you cling to him tighter, your anchor in this storm, your lifeline, hiding your face in his neck and letting three months worth of tears continue to fall.

“I’m not going to let go,” he soothes, laying a hand over yours, that’s still feebly clutching at the sleeve of his jacket. “Not until you ask me to.”

You release your grip, the ache lessening as you do, but your knuckles still throb with every beat of your heart; another reminder that even just existing is painful, that your body can’t even move blood around without complaint.

“There you go. Just breathe with me, honey. Nice and slow.”

You don’t know how long you spend there, trying to steady your breathing. Time has seemed to run together lately, somehow both fast and slow — that happens when you lose your routine, and spend half of a normal person’s waking hours asleep, and normal sleeping hours lying awake, enveloped in pain. He continues to murmur praises to you all the while; sweet, reassuring words that you don’t really process.

“Do you want to lay down?” he asks after a while, his voice soft and gentle.

He’s always so gentle with you. Endlessly patient, and endlessly caring.

You nod, thoroughly exhausted— the crying had zapped any energy you’d had left. You feel like a little kid again, soft and confused and small.

Fragile.

You’re still in your pajamas, anyway, still in bed. You’d only gotten out of it once today, to use the bathroom, but you’d forced yourself to brush your teeth while you were in there, leaning on the counter for stability all the while. That’s your idea of success and productivity these days.

“Okay. Let me take my boots off, hm?” — You nod, pulling back to let him get up. — “Alright. Can I get you anything? Water?”

You shake your head. “Just you,” you whisper.

“I can do that.” Jacket, boots, and pants off, he settles in with you, letting you cozy up to him in a position that feels the most comfortable— or the least uncomfortable, really. He starts stroking your hair again in soft, slow motions, the weight and warmth of his scarred palm soothing your headache.

It occurs to you that you’d never responded to his declaration — the one you’d needed so badly that you’d nearly asked for it outright — you’d just clung to him and cried, and he’d held you, even though you hadn’t said it back. He’d stroked your hair and calmed you down from your grief over the life you no longer have and can never return to.

He’s still holding you, still dulling the pain in your body and in your soul.

“I love you, Bren,” you murmur. “M’sorry I didn’t say it earlier.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve known for a long time.”

“Really?”

He hums softly. “Oh, yeah. Years and years. Since you nearly broke my jaw in challenges and then insisted on personally escorting me to the infirmary.”

You laugh at the memory. “I felt so guilty about that. I didn’t want to hurt you at all. I was pulling my punches.”

It’s his turn to laugh. “It certainly didn’t feel like it.”

There’s a soft pause before he speaks again, hesitant, like he doesn’t want to bring it up again now that your tears have dried, but he knows you haven’t forgotten the pain. You’ll never forget this pain for the rest of your life, even if it goes away.

“When I was in Poromiel, I talked to a healer there who‘s seen something like this before. She wrote down as much as she could before I left, and she promised to ask around and send more information through the boys when they do their next drop-off.”

You cuddle into him closer, ignoring the ache in your back as you do. “Thank you, Bren. I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. I guess… I’m just still not used to being taken care of. I know it’s dumb, but it makes me feel worse sometimes, even though it’s helping.”

“That’s how I felt,” he says quietly. You both know what he’s talking about— his recovery from being shot in the battle of Aretia, from dying and being brought back to life. “It was always me taking care of the girls when we were young. I was never the one who needed taking care of. It felt wrong, and I felt guilty, and mad at myself for needing the help. But you wouldn’t take no for an answer. You made an excellent nurse, if a little scary.”

“I was scared myself. Seeing you like that…” You swallow. “That’s when I knew that I loved you — you don’t know what you have ‘til it’s gone, I guess.”

“I am very much not gone,” he scoffs, offended.

“Fine. Slipping away from you,” you correct.

“Not doing that either. I’m staying right here.” He lays a kiss on the top of your head. “And we are going to have a nice long nap, and then I’m going to draw you a warm bath and make us some dinner, because I like taking care of you, because I love you, and because you deserve it. Okay?”

“Okay.” Another pause while you work up the courage. “Bren?” you ask softly.

“Yes, my love?”

The sweet name is enough encouragement to say it. “Can I kiss you?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He holds you in place with a gentle hand on your back, leaning his head down to meet you. You tilt your chin up, your noses brushing.

“This feels familiar,” he muses. “Very familiar.”

You roll your eyes lazily. “If you’re going to be all smug about it, then you don’t get a kiss.”

“Well, we can’t have that.”

You rest a hand on his jaw, guiding him closer. Your fingers twitch and shake, but he holds them steady, his hand pressing yours against the stubbled skin gently — a silent statement that he’s not going anywhere, and he’s ready when you are.

Endlessly patient.

The kiss isn’t desperate and hungry like they had been before your affliction had started, when surges of need and emotion had led you into each other’s beds two nights a week — you aren’t taking from each other now, you’re giving. It’s gentle. Sweet, loving, reassuring.

Each soft movement is a promise, a whispered oath — he’s here, and he isn’t leaving. He’s determined to figure this out and fix it, with you.

You don’t need anything more than that.

He takes your hand, moving it from his jaw to his mouth — kissing your palm. “I love you,” he repeats, pressing his lips to your knuckles. “You’re important to me,” again, to the back of your hand, “and we will get you the help you need. But for now we both just need to rest.”

“Thank you.”

“Always,” he responds, helping you tuck yourself back into his arms, and pulling the blanket up over you both.

“Goodnight, child,” Deò says softly. “I love you. We will get through this together.”

You’re a little surprised by the declaration — he’s never told you anything like this before — but you return it nonetheless. “Love y’too,” you murmur.

Sleep comes to you easily, and this time, you have a good dream.

#brennan sorrengail #brennan sorrengail x reader #fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #mine

175 notes · View notes

cozage · 2 years ago

Text

OP Boys and a Sick S/O

How your One Piece boyfriend would react to you being sick on the ship!

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Law

cw: female! reader, some angst, various illnesses

Luffy

He noticed it as soon as he woke up. You were burning up. And when he made a joke, you barely chuckled. “CHOPPER!!! SOMETHINGS WRONG!!!!”

He runs as fast as he can to find Chopper while carrying you and begs him to help you.

He’s got some PTSD from when Nami was sick. You look and feel a lot like how she did during that time and he’s worried.

Luckily you’re just diagnosed with the Grand Line Flu, pretty common and easy to overcome.

He snuggles with you when you’re awake and paces around the room when you’re asleep.

When Sanji brings you food, he doesn’t even look at it. He knows you need your strength. He just wants you better.

Chopper advises Luffy sleeping in the same room as you but Luffy doesn’t care. He’s staying with you.

You’re really restless the first night, so he sleeps on the floor and stretches his arm out to hold your hand.

On the third morning you laughed at his joke, and his eyes started getting watery

“I WAS SO WORRIED YOU WERE GONNA DIE IM SO GLAD YOU’RE OKAY”

Zoro

Zoro didn’t really question it when he hadn’t seen you by lunch. Sometimes you just preferred to stay cooped up in your room or the library.

By dinner, he was starting to get worried. Even more worried when everyone else had said they hadn’t seen you either.

As he entered your room, he noticed all the lights were off. At first he didn’t think anyone was there, but you let out a small whimper of protest to the light.

“You okay?” He sat carefully on the bed and pulled back your blanket that was wrapped around your head.

“Zoro…something’s wrong. I feel awful.” Your voice sounded strained. His stomach sank. Why hadn't he checked on you earlier? “I’ll be back”

He grabs Chopper and rushes back down. He doesn’t want to be gone from you for long. He’s beating himself up over not noticing sooner.

Chopper does a full exam and deduces that you have a severe case of sun-poisoning and possible effects of heat-stroke.

“This is because we laid outside all damn day yesterday isn’t it? I knew that Summer island was hotter than usual” Cue even MORE guilt.

He goes to Sanji and asks for him to make a hydrating meal for you. He doesn’t even pick a fight with the cook, that’s how worried he is.

He lays with you all night and hold you close and keeps apologizing for not noticing earlier.

The next day you’re feeling slightly better, but he’s persistent in keeping you in bed with him all day until you’re fully recovered. He makes runs to the kitchen and grabs things for you all to do.

It’s really just an excuse to have a day together and he secretly loves it.

Sanji

thought it was strange you didn’t come get breakfast. He was initially worried you were avoiding him or he had missed you coming into the kitchen, so he checked all your favorite spots on the Sunny, and still couldn't find you.

He knocks on your door, and with no answer, he just peaks inside for one glimpse to confirm you’re not in there.

Instead, to his horror, he finds you passed out on the ground.

“CHOPPER!!! Y/N IS DOWN!!” His voice echos through the ship and sends everyone rushing towards your room.

Sanji is afraid to move you, so he just brushes your hair from your face and whispers quiet encouragement to you.

He’s so scared. Your face is so white and clammy and there’s nothing he can do.

By the end of his exam, you’ve slipped back into consciousness, though you’re still groggy. Chopper diagnoses you with Low blood sugar and low iron.

You’ve given some iron tablets to take and told to take it easy. Sanji doesn’t want to leave you, but also wants to cook something to help your low blood sugar of course.

He picks you up bridal style and carries you to the kitchen. “Chopper told you not to use extra energy didn’t he? So I guess I’ll just have to carry you everywhere!”

He makes such a good breakfast for you :) you’re starting to feel better already

Sanji is secretly beating himself up because it’s HIS job to keep the crew healthy and give them a balanced diet and you of all people were his oversight (it wasn’t really his fault though you know that)

Even after the food and choppers help yo still have a massive headache so you and Sanji curl up in the fish tank lounge and rest all day long. He only gets up to make people meals.

Sanji occasionally puts his hand on your chest just to make sure you’re still breathing whenever you’re asleep. He’s so worried about you. Vows to never let that happen again because he can’t bear to see you sick like this ever again.

Ace

You’re not a restless sleeper. Usually you fall asleep against Ace and you stay pressed against him all night long. His body emits a nice warmth that you just love to snuggle into at night.

Tonight’s different though. You’re tossing and turning, almost like you can’t get comfortable. Thats his first red flag.

When he wakes up in the middle of the night, he reaches out for you, but only finds an empty sheet in your place.

He starts to panic and his eyes scan the dimly lit room. His eyes finally land on you, lying on the wooden floor in the middle of the room

He’s instantly out of bed, right by your side, desperately shaking you awake.

“Ace, stop…” you roll away from him.

“What is it? What’s wrong, y/n?” He can feel that your skin is clammy and abnormally warm to the touch. Your hair is stuck to your face, damp with sweat.

“Marco…I’m going to get Marco. I’ll be right back” he gives you a quick forehead kiss that emits a groan from your half-awake self.

He dashed out of the room and sprints across the ship to the first division commanders room. He begins desperately banging on Marcos door

Marco answers the door and he is NOT thrilled. Until he sees Ace’s face and how worried he is. “Please Marco. She’s sick. Really sick. She’s burning up and I…I don’t know what to do”

Marco follows him back to his room and sees you half conscious on the floor. He bends down next to you and starts taking your vitals.

“Ace, it looks like it’s just a virus. It’ll run its course and she’ll be fine in a day or two. I’ll come back and check on her again tomorrow.” After reassuring his friend that it is not life or death, Marco takes his leave.

Ace can’t sleep though. He grabs a fan, a rag, and a bucket of water, doing anything he can to keep you cool through the night. He just sits by your side and watches you when you’re asleep.

When you wake up the next morning, he’s there, ready to get you anything you need. And he doesn't leave it until you're ready to leave the room again too.

Law

“No thanks, I think I’ll pass tonight.” makes Law raise an eyebrow. You never skip dessert, especially when Penguin is the one who made it.

As you excuse yourself from the table, he waits just a beat before following you out.

“Y/n-ya. Are you okay?” He’s already analyzing your face for any signs of distress.

“I’m fine, Law. Just tired is all”. It’s a lie. And he knows it too. He pulls you into his office without another word.

His hand outstretches toward you “Room”. “Law this really isn’t-“ “Scan”. His word are clipped, and you can see that his worry lines are deep.

“Food poisoning. Seriously? I knew we shouldn’t have eaten at that sketchy bar today.” He’s already grabbing IVs and other meds. “You should’ve told me sooner.”

“It was the oysters right? I knew they tasted funny.” You attempt a weak smile at your captain, which is only met with a glare. “At least you didn’t eat any of them too.”

“You’re sleeping in my room tonight so I can keep an eye on you.” He’s already got an arm around you, helping you stand. You didn’t realize how tired you were until you had someone helping support you. You wish you had the energy to object, but you let him lead you to his room.

As soon as you’re on his bed, your eyes begin to close. The last thing you see is him prepping an IV for you.

He stays by your side. Sitting, watching. Looking for any signs of discomfort on your face.

When you’re sick, he holds your hair back for you. He has water and saltine crackers ready to get the taste out of your mouth, too.

After the first few hours, he starts to relax, and chooses to work at his desk through the night, but he keeps you in his line of sight at all times.

The next morning you are already feeling better because of how fast Law noticed you were sick. You’re still feeling tired, but your appetite is already returning a bit.

Law had Shachi prep some light and comforting foods for you, and you see a smile pass over his lips when you ask for it.

He kisses his the pads of fingertips and then presses it immediately against your forehead. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, y/n-ya”

3K notes · View notes

gay-dorito-dust · 1 year ago

Note

Hii! Could you do a mizu w reader where one is injured (doesn't really matter which one haha) and it's like a hurt/ comfort?

Take your time and get some rest!!

Write this when I was on the verge of falling asleep, so if any of it sounds like it was coming out of my ass, it was. 🦦

‘Why did you do it?’ Mizu asked, choosing not to look at you but instead focus on your injuried chest with a hard glare.

‘Do what? Protect you from that smiley coward who was about to use unethical means to completely blindside you?’ You replied as though the answer wasn’t already glaringly obvious, you honestly didn’t understand why you had to explain your reasonings as for protecting Mizu and putting your life at risk, but if it meant showing them that someone did give a shit about whether they’d live or die; then you’d happily be that person for Mizu.

‘You had no need to protect me, I could’ve-‘

‘Easily defend yourself, I know Mizu.’ You interrupted them before grabbing ahold of their hand, memorising the feeling of callousness to memory, as you rubbed your thumb against the back of their hand reassuringly. ‘I know how strong and powerful and amazing you are. I’ve witnessed your fighting spirit first hand and it took my breath away. Literally because when we first met you knocked the wind out of my lungs with the butt of your sword, all because you thought I was some stranger about to attack you.’ You finished recounting the tale of how you first encountered Mizu with a small smile. Why? Maybe it was your way to direct their mind to a more happier and healthier memory, rather then have it stuck heavily focusing on the one where they had their back exposed to the enemy; the reason you now had a massive gash running across your chest. A gash that would surly become a permanent part of your body but also a painful reminder to Mizu.

A reminder that you could’ve been easily taken away from them.

A reminder that you’d always selflessly put them before yourself, even if that meant getting hurt, maimed, loosing a limb or worse yet; your life.

A reminder that they’ll have to get stronger if they wish to prevent you from doing so in the nearby future. Mizu knew that their revenge took presidency over everything else, even their own health, but they don’t want you to ruin yourself beyond recognition for them; It just didn’t feel right to Mizu to have you be the barrier between them and the ill intentions of other people. They were strong enough to deal with it but as it’s been made clear countless times before, you didn’t give two shits about that, and instead focused all your time and effort into showing them that they matter so much to you; Which is an admirable and respectable trait to have in Mizu’s eyes.

However that did little to quell the unease they felt upon witnessing your body drop at their feet in what felt like slow motion, just as the first sighting of blood that began to pool beneath you in such quick succession, that at one point Mizu genuinely thought they were too late to save you, this was proven especially more true when you didn’t awaken within the first couple of days after Mizu had stitched and then later covered your wound; all in due to the amount of blood you had already lost. So the feeling of being able to properly breathe again upon seeing you wake up made the uneasy feeling that little bit more bearable for Mizu.

‘While it’s appreciated to know that I can fully count on you to have my back in the heat of battle, it is not a necessity.’ Mizu states, bring the conversation back to where it was needed most, causing you to frown. ‘I should’ve known better than to think that he would honour me with a fair fight. I should’ve known that he’d play dirty the moment he realised the odds were stacked against him.’ Mizu adds, clenching their fists into the seams of their clothing, jaw clenched and their eyes become an unforgiving steel blue; all signs of their underlying rage toward themself and the cowardly man.

‘You didn’t know and that’s perfectly fine.’ You grunt as you slowly sat yourself up with Mizu’s hands supporting your endeavour whilst being mindful as to not reopen your wound. ‘It’s normal to not foresee things before they happen, otherwise it wouldn’t be considered an authentic human experience.’ You let out a little chuckle, all the while Mizu was left to sit there and narrow their brows at what you could’ve possibly thought was so humorous. ‘And to live an authentic human experience is to accept that you have limitations, especially during the moments where you wished you didn’t have any at all.’ You said as you looked into Mizu’s eyes hoping that your words were somewhat getting through to them.

‘We always question ourselves on how we didn’t see it coming, or how we didn’t see the signs but what we’re not taking into account is that we’re human. Not super powered beings of mythical origins nor gods but just plain old humans. We don’t get the luxuries that they do, however if there’s one thing we can pride ourselves in having, it’s how we take these moments to heart and learn from them going forwards.’ You smiled softly, seeing the sea of emotions within Mizu’s eyes. ‘Another thing we can pride ourselves on is our resilience and our willpower to continue paving the way forward. We get hurt but we always get back up because that’s the indomitable human spirit. That’s what we do.’

‘Where are you getting with this and what does it have to do with me allowing you in getting hurt?’ Mizu asked, curious and a little restless as to what this was all meant to mean. ‘The moral of this for you to not beat yourself up over being human for being human is all we’ll ever know how to be until our final breath.’ You explained, lifting their clenched hand within yours to press a kiss to the back of it, before placing it back onto their lap. ‘Instead of focusing on what has already come to pas, how about bringing your attention to the fact that I’m still here and I’m still breathing. Yeah?’ Mizu stayed quiet for a while, allowing for your words to sit with them as Mizu thought long and hard before finally reaching to a conclusion.

‘Only on the pretences that I get to teach you in the basics of defence.’ Mizu said. ‘As a precaution.’ They add.

‘As long as you don’t go hard on me.’ You chuckled, already visualising it.

Mizu gave you an almost missable smirk. ‘No promises.’

#mizu imagines #Mizu imagine #mizu x reader #mizu x you #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai x reader #blue eye samurai imagine #blue eye samurai imagines #blue eye samurai x you

478 notes · View notes

bunji-enthusiast · 5 months ago

Note

Some Ban x Reader?

Namely, chubby reader with some body worship from Ban. He fucking loves your folds, your plumpness, that sweet little ass, and those thighs. You could sit on his face with it right between his thighs and he would die a happy man if he was actually able to die.

All those little things are reminders that you look and act the part of being human, while he feels he’s just a sham. He called himself Ban the Undead for a reason.

One day, he decides to buy you a pretty set of lingerie. To make you feel as pretty as he thinks you are.

You can always rely on this man for such an occasion 👌

Greedy Bastard — Ban The Undead

• Sypnosis || He decides to take it upon himself to indulge in much needed body-worship, he can’t help it!

• content || sexual themes, ban being ban, rushed ending (apologies, I couldn't think of anything better my dear).

The crooning chirps of the morning rose to an alarm that he didn’t want much for, butchering his night of sleep he had lovingly spent against your plush body. Even squeezing your adorable little ass, Ban without a doubt is sincerely reminded of what a wonderful little partner he has.

To be frank, he is quite jealous of your very, sexy curves. Like time could pass without warning if he indulged in them for far too long.

If his cause of death was namely because of you, you’d make Ban the happiest he’s ever been in his life.

Thigh-squeezing or none.

“Babe,” Ban drawled, his cheeks reddening as he burrowed his face in the folds of your stomach. “You look so fuckin’ pretty, Y’know?”

He hooked his arms beneath the arch of your back, eliciting a yelp from you at the sensation. “Ban…” You creaked your neck to peer at the foxy creature, he was still very much a man. It was a times those fangs of his and those darling red eyes had reminded you far too much of a fox. It was a fitting thought he is after all the Fox Sin of Greed.

The man hums, sharp eyes peering at you from the folds of your skin. For a moment, he blinks, as if he was waiting for you to say something.

“You are a perverted man.” You say blankly, dumbly trying to suppress the way he made you feel right now.

Ban laughs, as if was his usual singsong tone, he doesn’t answer you — but his hands did.

You yelped, gripping the bedsheets which had provided you with comfort thus far. Feeling large hands crawl between the plush of your thighs, parting your legs which revealed a very mischievous expression of the ill-mannered thief who appears to take great pleasure in your current position. “C’mon, lemme eat you out~” He smiles, the fang of his teeth poking out.

Your lips turned, trying to close up your legs again as you weren’t prepared for such a display of affection. If that is what you can call it, you weren’t sure, it felt like because of him your mind was being turned to mushed.

Ban’s hands now held a firmer grip, keeping your legs pryed open.

“We haven’t even—“ You cut yourself off, knowing that the man was serious. He was a bit of a greedy man, but you just never stopped being surprised at what lengths his greed goes to.

His face softens for a moment, one hand stilling over the fat flesh of your stomach. “Hey I can save that part for last, hmm?” Ban murmurs, leaving your thighs out of both his hands. You unseeingly flinched at the loss of the warmth, but it was quickly apparent that it was replaced by the fact he is now focused on trailing his way up to your face. Bit, by excruciating bit.

Ban sure seemed to take his sweet ass time every single time he pulls this, you squirmed as you sat up, trying to gain elevation over him. He stills at your movements, a disapproving look on his face. Your face heats up at the sudden silence, bucking your hips to gain some friction and warmth. His hands stills on your hips as he leans closer to your face, his lips are against yours already, greedy yet inviting.

His hand cants your jaw, tipping it as he gains entrance into your mouth. Ban lets out a low moan as your hand jolts against his arms, digging into his skin as you found purchase. You could almost feel a rumble omit from his throat, sultry and satisfied at how well this was going as of right now. His other hand keeps steady on the mattress below you, taking his sweet time in prolonging the kiss.

You weren't sure how long you could hold it for, pushing back against him as you breathed for oxygen to enter your lungs once again. "What I said about being perverted," You sat up, your hands pushing against his bare chest, "You are far more greedy."

Ban smiles at your statement, happy to see you were more awake and moving. "I am a thief y'know?" He mentions, you shake your head, sighing at being reminded of the fact. Ban simply will never stop reminding you of this very fact, he often times more then not will steal things he finds bothersome to actually pay for - which has resulted in you scolding him (if you figured out he stole something) multiple times.

The shifting in the bed had pulled you out of your stupor, seeing Ban had finally gotten up. You heaved a heavy sigh of relief, 'I won't have to deal with his loving this morning'.

You finally found the strength to get up from the bed yourself, but only a few steps in you were stopped by a large hand holding you in your spot. "I wasn't done yet, come on." He chuckled, his face holding a very familiar expression. You huff, crossing your arms as you covered yourself.

"Ban, whatever you are planning. I swear to god-"

He interjects, "It's good, okay babe? Not bad."

Ban smiles, eyes closed and all, one hand pulling you back to the bed. You complied, letting out another annoyed huff as you sat back down at the edge of the bed. Your brow raised as you see his other hand behind his back, "What do you have there?" You ask, and he almost appeared to have stiffened.

"Something' to help you." Now you still, you hands coming to rest in alignment with your position. The way he had worded his sentence had you questioning what he had behind his back, Ban slowly pulled out the item in question.

Pretty red lingerie, from top to bottom it was fresh, new and good quality. Your face burns, bringing up your hands as you covered your eyes from the sight. "You know I won't be able to fit in that!" Hands not belonging to you immediately pries apart your cover, Ban just waves the set of lingerie infront of your face. "Just give it a try, alright?" He says, "You can take it off after, if ya don't like it."

Silence ensues.

After a few more minutes of thinking, you relented with an agreeable sigh. Snatching the set of pretty lingerie from him, "I hate you so much, you know I'm not gonna look good in this."

Ban sighs, taking your chin in his hand as his voice takes a low tone, "Now I know I just didn't hear my pretty girl say that about herself." You flinch, your own hand gripping onto his wrist as you blushed, dumbly blinking at the sudden change in the atmosphere. You certainly didn't expect this much praise from him, not this man, he was far more favored by the gods instead of you. Why would he get this pissed over a comment you made about yourself? You had no idea.

"Try again." He says with a firm squeeze on the skin of your cheeks.

“I want my girl to know how hot n’ pretty she is.”

#nnt x reader #nanatsu no taizai x reader #nanatsu no taizai #ban nnt #ban x reader #ban sds #seven deadly sins x reader #seven deadly sins anime #ban seven deadly sins

158 notes · View notes