#im considering maybe breath of the bear

[le16erc]

𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✩ 𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐲. <𝟑

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞. ’𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 !

• 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐢𝐜 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 <𝟑

𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤’𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐜: 𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢! <𝟑 ……………………………………………………………………………

the moment was perfect. he was more than absolutely sure that he was dead, residing in the divine above with an angel shaped like a girlfriend. jazz was playing as he held his lovers waist, humming along to the smooth sound as he rambled through his overbearing day.

“missed you. we both did.” she cooed, batting her lashes up at her boyfriend as he caressed her stomach.

“I know you did, I missed my girls, too.” he smiled as their puppy, miss grapes, nuzzled happily at his legs. watching his girl prepare dinner while their shared puppy played with her toy should have been more than enough to wipe his brain clean from anything else. still, his mind was running wild with the previous hours of his day.

“maybe if I burned my phone, zak would still find me.” he scoffed, sitting on the bar stool as he watched his pretty girlfriend bake. or cook. or whatever she was doing, he was never kitchen privy anyway. “maybe if you considered that you’re one of the only two McLaren drivers in the world, and that you’re painfully essential to the team, you’d understand why zak needs to reach you.” she teased, shoving a spoonful of frosting between his lips. he groaned appreciatively, taking the small silver spoon between his fingers and sucking happily.

“maybe i should stop waffling on and on. that could be a possible solution.” he groaned existentially, leaning back in the plush stool as he resigned all negative thoughts. he was home, and his heart was focused on his pretty wife girlfriend. he stood up, his long legs easily carrying him over to meet her.

“i think it’s cute when you waffle.” she smiled, welcoming his touch as he held her from behind. their hips swayed to the light jazz playing, the golden hour’s beams kissing them through the kitchen windows. “it proves that my boyfriend isn’t a broody, antisocial near-emo.” she grinned. “boyfriend is a funny word, no?” he said softly, moving her brown waves to the side so he could admire her back. whatever dessert she was making was momentarily forgotten as he lost himself in her softness. “it’s painfully temporary, is what it is.” he concluded.

“this pretty finger would look so much better with a ring.” he hummed softly, more to himself, nuzzling into her shoulder as she resumed her stirring. “you know, ‘m gonna make it happen real soon, babe.” he purred, hands trailing over her stomach as he inhaled her warm scent. it was a new favorite mix of tom ford and yves saint laurent, he learned a few days ago when she excitedly recounted her recent saks fifth avenue spree.

“don’t make promises you can’t keep.” she said softly, tilting her head back to grant his lips more access to lavish her skin with the upmost affection. her hands continued to work, stirring the mixture as promises of devotion and obsession spilled from the australian’s lips. “id miss you far too much if you dipped.” she said softly.

“ouch. i’ve never broken a promise that i have made to you, smarty. i can’t say the same for others, but for you, im honest.” he mumbled, leaving a soft bite on her jaw just to spite her. “you make it sound like you don’t wanna be mrs. piastri one day, which im sure isn’t true because ive got child bearing hips, and you of all people would never turn that down. you do want to marry me, dont you?” he asked gently, dropping the jokes as his lips stopped their way along her neck. he genuinely worried for a moment.

“honestly?” she sighed, looking back at him.

“honestly, sweet thing.” he held a breath, lifting his head to watch her face for any sign of truth.

“i honestly can’t ever see myself being mrs. piastri…” she said softly, looking to the ground.

“you can’t?” oscar’s voice broke slightly, the tears forming in his eyes threatening to realize the moment. if that’s how she really felt, he was NOT stronger than that and was willing to convince her to hear him out. he could cook, clean, learn how to make those damn towel swans. anything to keep her with him and happy.

“no. i don’t know, ive just always seen myself as more of a mrs. pastry. i hope you can understand. it’s not me, it’s you.” she said, feigning seriousness as she tried to hide the prettiest smile. he released a breath held from his innermost workings, coming down from a near heart attack.

“see what I did there? huh? pastry? piastri? you know, because im baking?” she smiled stupidly, playfully gesturing to the unfinished tiramisu sitting on the marble counter.

as he adored her cheesy smile, he knew he was done for in that moment. he knew he wanted to end his days with his soul wrapped around her heart, keeping it warm until its final beat. and even then, he’d love her in whatever came after the grave. he was ruined.

𝐟𝐢𝐧.

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝!!!! 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐳𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐤! 😃

[nymphomatique]

special affair

dbf!miguel o’hara x fem!reader

art credit: _insomniac_red_ on ig. pictures are for mood setting, reader has no specific race or physical descriptions.

cw: a lil angsty, this is just shameless smut im sorry guys i don’t know what came over me, daddy kink, dbf!miguel <3, unspecified age gap but reader is legal, rough sex, squirting, unprotected sex, miguel is not a good man, conflicted reader, creampie, lowkey breeding kink, degrading language, choking/breath play, face slapping, spitting, mentions of oral (m), overstimulation, crying/dacryphillia, pubic hair grinding? lmao idk, reader is alluded to being in sub space. not proofread lol. 18+ only.

wc: ~1.5k

❤︎ an: hi my loves!! this is a sorta part two to this drabble, but can be read as a stand alone one shot. tbh i wrote this w my pussy.. i’m ovulating rn i’m so ashamed of myself 😔 nevertheless, enjoy! if you guys want more don’t hesitate to lmk!!

from that first night he fucked you from behind, you knew you strayed too far from the status quo in your life, you’re at the point of no return. that night, when he finished pounding you from behind and defiling you further with his seed all over your back and ass, you had laid in that position— spent and on your stomach- for the rest of the night, silently sobbing. you had betrayed your father, that much you were aware of the day you started rubbing at yourself meekly in the dead of the night thinking about his best friend.

you had long come to terms with that guilt, accepting whatever image of a burning inferno there is in the afterlife. what you cannot come to terms with, is the fact that he- miguel- had actually fucked you, indulged in what you considered your own taboo thoughts, ripping them from page and making your crude thoughts a sick reality. the worst part of this all is that amidst it all, the mental beratement, the nights you spent crying, the sick feeling the memories of miguel’s cock stretching you absolutely thin, showing you a climax like no other— you want to hate yourself for it, for being weak. for being such a bad girl. but you didn’t know why your body decided to betray your brain, the physical craving for the older man’s body possessing you whole. you can’t bear this feeling, holding it up inside you and trying to keep it at bay. fuck- you needed to talk to someone, you had to, even if it’s the last person you want to speak to.

nevertheless, you end up two houses down, sniffling and heaving in the dead of the night, knocking the door as hard as your trembling hands would let you. the door swings open and at the sight of him you keen, your body aching at the sight of the burly muscles covered in sun kissed skin. dark brown hair streaked with grey at the temples. a slight five o’clock shadow, he must not have shaved this morning. and then you look into those eyes, swallowing you up whole and you begin to tear up again. miguel is silent, leaning against the door with messy hair, glazed eyes and clad in boxers, and boxers only. fuck, you shouldn’t have come here.

“I-.. Miguel, it hurts,” you sob quietly, aflame with shame and embarrassment at how little resolve you had. He grabs your face with his warm hands and you’re trembling now, ready for him. your lips ghost for a moment before he breathes out. “i’m not a good man, sweetheart. if you don’t say no, i’m gonna break you.” he sounds sincere with his words and his eyes go stern. you wish you had some self of self control, or maybe having better discernment. but the only thing you say to him only confirms what you already knew about yourself; you’re a terrible fucking person. 

“violate me.”

your lips are smashed against each other, tongues dancing and it feels so good to be in his embrace again. your tears fall down your cheeks, meeting at the junction of your mouths in a pool of saliva. miguel groans and you know why, remembering what he had said to you the last time.

“i like when you cry.”

you’re grabbed up at the hips, legs wrapped around a thick torso, pressed up against a firm chest and a heavy cock. the moments up to the bedroom are cloudy, drunk off his lips against yours. you come to slightly when cold plush sheets hit your back and a pair of lips leave yours. you whine, yearning for his touch again. he looks down at you, bringing your right foot to his mouth, he licks lightly up the sole- kissing the ball of your foot before he leans down, caging your between his elbows, face to face.

“you gonna be good for your daddy?” he asks softly, kissing between the bridge of your nose once. 

“y-yes,” you breathe out with a slow nod. 

“mmm. gonna let me violate this tight little body too?” he asks, still soft in tone and you think you’re gonna go crazy by the end of the night. “yes, daddy,” you murmur, lost in his eyes. 

“sick fucking little girl. but that’s how i like it,” he chuckles, kissing you softly before getting up stripping you bare.

“letting your daddy undress you like a good girl. so obedient f’me,” he coos at you, touching you softly and you’re almost in tears. you need him. and you let it be known. a lone tear falls down your cheek and you mewl, “n-need you to make it better down there, daddy.”

his large hand engulfs you cheek, thumb wiping your tear softly before squishing your face, putting his tear stained thumb in your mouth. “you think you’re a big girl now, hmm? telling your daddy what to do?” you look up at him teary eyed, suckling his thick finger.

“you take what i give you, when i give it to you.” he squeezes you cheek a little harder before softly slapping your cheek and you squeak at the contact. a rough laugh leaves miguel’s mouth at your reaction. “you have no idea how bad i’m gonna treat you, baby.”

you’re non verbal at this point, mouth agape and leaking saliva down your jaw seeping into the sheets and the junction of your neck and chest. a hand slaps your cheek again, you’ve lost how many that is now. “i fucked you stupid already?” miguel laughs, hard thrusts sending you flying up the bed. his hands on your hips bring you down back to him each time, poking you right in that sweet spot in your pussy. you’ve lost count of how many orgasms you’ve head, body wracked and numb with pleasure. throat hoarse from the near-violent throat fuck he gave you.

a glob of spit hits your forehead and you groan a bit. the one thing you’re sure of is that you look a goddamned mess. a crude picture of the activity you’ve been partaking in for the past two hours. a hand leaves your hip to wrap around your neck and squeeze roughly, making you gasp for air, your body finally moving.

“there we go, got you moving now. thought i fucked you to sleep for a second.” 

your eyes are glossy, at the lack of air and building pressure. your hand meekly wraps around his wrist as he fucks into you. you know you shouldn’t like the way he toys with you like this, waking the line of torment and pleasure with no care in the world. but you do. and you can’t deny it anymore.

“you’re tightening up on me again. you gonna cum for me again?” miguel asks you, and he laughs after knowing you can’t even answer him. “sick little girl. you like it when i choke you? make you feel weak? worthless?” 

it’s barely audible, but the moan you let out vibrates in your neck and miguel can feel it with the hand pressed against your throat. he throws his head back with a groan. “nasty, naughty girl. fuck baby, gonna cum in that little pussy.”

you’re almost there, and quite frankly impressed that you haven’t fully passed out yet. your head feels light, and you begin to tremble violently, gushing out spurts of liquid as your head falls to the side. if this is hell, you’re not so sure you could give this up for heaven. your eyes close and you feel so close to falling asleep when he removes his hand from your neck, grabbing your head by the nape of your neck, craning you up to where you can see his thick cock slip and slide between your thighs. you groan at the image. 

“need you awake to see me cum in you, don’t i?” miguel groans. “you like watching me fuck you, like letting me dirty you.”

 his tuft of black pubic hair rubs against yours as his thrusts become increasingly sporadic and intense, and it has you trembling at the stimulation it gives your clit. you weakly squirt each time his pelvis brushes against your clit, your body letting you know you have only so much left in you before you’re drained empty.

“fuck, love it when you wet the bed. my pissy little girl. daddy loves the messes you make.” he’s nearly breathless and you pray he’s going to cum in the next minute, the ache in your neck and dull sensation in your pussy building slowly.

“c-cum in me. wanna give you a baby,” you moan, looking up from the fast thrusts and into miguel’s eyes. 

“fuck! so n-naughty, baby. gonna give me another one, huh? fucking take it, then.” with a final thrust, you feel the warmth of his cum shoot and blossom somewhere deep within you. you moan weakly, one final weak spurt of squirt coming out of you. miguel pulls out and you watch him look at the mess he made of you and your pussy, covered in spit, cum and the beginnings of handprint bruises blossoming on your hips and ass from how hard he gripped and spanked you. 

you can feel his cum slowly trickle out of you, and your body feels like it’s no longer your own. after so many orgasms, your limbs are on fire, and you can do nothing but breathe and weakly murmur a “d-daddy..” while your eyes close.

tags: @realhotgirlshitah @obsessed-with-miguels-ass @maxiethestrange

message me to be removed!

[cryingisnecessaryfanfics]

PART TWO

Its 2am have more scar headcannons/imagines

Characters: Razor(platonic), Kaeya, Xiao, Tighnari

Sorry these are probs subpar cuz my writing style varies depending on the bpd mood lmao. Bear with the redundancy of these, there are only so many ways to write the same action.

If youre the anon who sent me an ask im replying to your ask with the inverse you talked about. Stay tuned <3 (its probably gonna take another 6 months but welp)

Not spell checked or proof read sorry lol

Razor (platonic)

Wolf boy has a lot of scars as we can all tell. I feel like he probably doesnt get the point of lotion. Probably says it smells bad, like chemicals. His scars are all really improperly healed. Probably has keloid scars (overproduction of scar tissue). The sheer size of the ones on his arms lead me to believe he never got stitches or bandages of any sort, which makes sense considering his story. Regardless, that shit looks painful lmao. (Lighthearted imagine to start us off)

“Razor!” You yell, damn that kid was way faster than you. You nearly trip over a log as you run after him.

“Razor, stop running dammit.” You continue to shout after him, hoping anything you say might just make him slow down. Lord knows you could never catch up to him.

“It's just lotion. It'll make you feel better!” Your lungs start to sting from the chase and your legs drag behind you. You stop to catch your breath and Razor slows down in front of you.

He approaches you slowly like he's afraid you’ll catch him if he gets too close. “Smells bad,” he says and you all but roll your eyes.

“Sometimes things that are good for us smell bad.” You explain. Razor waits for your breathing to even out before he gets within arms reach of you.

“Like soap?” He says and you laugh at the memory of trying to get him to wash himself with soap instead of the occasional dip in the river.

“Yes, like soap.” You sigh and he frowns. Tentatively he holds out his arm, he looks at you expectantly.

“Finally.” You say under your breath and open the bottle of lotion. You can practically feel Razor's eyes watch your hands cautiously. He doesn't move as you spread some against the skin of his arm.

“Cold.” He comments and you huff a little laugh.

“See.” You say when you finish. “Feels better right?”

Razor finally relaxes and smiles at you. “Yes.”

You're just glad he stopped running.

Kaeya

Not gonna go the obvious way and say his eyepatch because I'm different lmao. I think his knuckles are scarred. I think kaeya seems like the type to cope with his feelings through violence. I think kaeya probably hates himself. When everything gets to be too much he just starts coming out swinging. The kind of person who punches a wall without really thinking about it. But yeah I think he used his fists too much when he was younger and now he wears the fingerless gloves to protect/cover the scars. (Sorry if this is weird or seems ooc, it just makes sense to me idk why)

You first see them when he gets the new outfit in sumeru. Everyone around you seems to disregard them, or maybe just not notice. But you can sense the way he subtly hides the scars, the way he walks with a hand behind his back, one covering the other. Its easy to not notice if you arent always watching closely. Maybe the only reason you noticed was because you seemed to always be staring at him. Kaeya catches you looking more than once and in typical kaeya fashion he deflects with flirting or jokes.

Later, when youve returned home to mondstat you ask him about it and he explains after some persistence.

“Its nothing to be shameful of.” You murmur, a hand holding his, looking at the dry scar tissue.

“Its one thing to have scars from braving a battle, a complete other thing to have them from your own stupidity.” He looks away from you and the eye you can see seems far away. Like he’s recalling something from his past.

“But it wasnt stupid, it was a way to cope. How can anyone think of something like that as not brave?” He doesnt answer you, only frowns slightly, a face youve never seen him make. “Do you atleast take care of them?”

He still doesnt respond. You sigh, exasperated, and pull out your endless bag of goods to find a lotion to help with the dryness.

“What are you doing?” He asks, and you all but cringe at the thought of him not knowing you have to moisturize scars.

“I’m helping you.” You half expect him to make a witty comment but the situation proves to be too heavy and he goes back to staying silent. The whole act goes without words, you spread the lotion over his knuckles, rub it in gently. He doesnt say anything until you slide his gloves back on.

“Thank you.” He says and before you can say anything back he adds, “For your actions and your words.”

You press a kiss to one of his gloved hands. “Your welcome.” You thnk you see his cheeks tint the slightest shade of red before hes back to normal again.

“And here I thought I was the romantic.”

Xiao

I always liked the images of the karmic binds/shackles so I like to imagine his wrists are scarred from straining(?) those too much. I mean considering Xiao is an Adeptus physical wounds wouldn't leave a scar so maybe these more mental-type wounds would. Like the more karmic debt he has the worse the scars get in condition, the less debt the more they fade. Maybe the lotion helps soothe the debt more than anything. Maybe the act of something so comforting and intimate with you lessens the pain. Food for thought I guess.

Every morning, at dawn, Xiao enters a room in Wangshu Inn so his lover can put lotion on his scars. This morning is no different.

“Good morning, Xiao.” You say like always, same pretty smile on your face every day.

“Morning,” Xiao mumbles and frowns as if this isn't his favorite part of the day. He avoids your eyes as he takes off his gloves. As many times as youve seen his wrists, he still gets insecure about them. It's no secret Xiao hates being vulnerable, even around his most trusted companion.

“I saw zhongli yesterday.” You say quietly as he sits down on the bed next to you, lotion in hand. “He was with that harbinger.”

“Tch. Useless scum.” Xiao comments and you laugh.

“He seemed happy, Xiao. Try to be tolerant of his friend.” Xiao just rolls his eyes and rests his arm in your hand. You continue to talk about your day as you open the bottle of lotion and start to spread it out against his wrist.

Xiao stays quiet during this, as he always does. You think he must enjoy your voice because he's always been intent on listening to you speak even if he usually prefers silence. He absorbs your words so soaked in affection and the ache in his body seems to lessen. Pain becomes distant, horrible and intense feelings become easier to push away.

It's over before he realizes it, you've put the lotion away simply holding his hand now, savoring the feeling of his skin against yours. He leans against you and you hum in content.

Maybe this is healing for the both of you. Mutual comfort.

Tighnari

I know a lot of people like the idea of him having scars from getting struck by lightning so i'm just gonna play off of that. Lighting very rarely leaves scars but the scars it does leave are burns. The electricity also causes nerve damage so you'd have to be very gentle and careful when handling tighnari’s scars. They're probably on his neck/back so itd take a lot of trust for him to let you see him so vulnerable. He probably already has lotion he puts on himself but its very hard to reach your own back so eventually he asks you for help.

You've seen him put lotion on his scars many times, watched him wince at the pain of it. You refrain from asking him if he wants your help. Tighnari is independent, he doesn't need anyone's help. But maybe itd be less painful if he didn't have to strain his muscles to reach the scars.

He doesn't say much when he asks the first time. Just tells you to be careful. He starts to list the ingredients of the lotion he's made. How he found it, what the weather was like that day.

No matter how gentle you were he’d still pause in the middle of sentences, and with his back to you, you never saw his winces but you knew they were there.

“Okay,” you say when you've finished and you know he's relieved it's over even if it was a more pleasant experience than him doing it himself.

But he thanks you anyway, and he’ll ask you to do it again the next day.

[skibasyndrome]

Okay im probably gonna send you more bc Vampire wilmon is what I live for but for now...

"Oh baby, what have you done?"

sfadkhgkfdghdfag I am LIVING for you sending me more vampire prompts!!! thank you so much!!! and also bear with me sdfjadkl I am living historical vampire au realness here

cw: mentions of blood, and, again, maybe this is light pain kink? maybe it's just human who loves a vampire and is a lil needy for him behavior? who's to say!

Could be considered in the same universe as this snippet here

"Oh baby, what have you done?" Simon's concern is palpable as he gently takes Wille's hand into his. He lifts the hand, twisting it, looking at the small cuts that run over Wille's knuckles, down the back of his hand. Traces the deepest slash, the one that's carved across the heel of Wille's hand with soft, careful fingertips. Wille flinches at the touch, the pain still hot and sharp, but he doesn't pull his hand away, wouldn't dream of removing himself out of Simon's delicate grasp. The way Simon is staring at the red, angry marks, eyeing each one of them with a mix of concern and wonder, is making Wille's heart beat out of his chest. "I got caught up in some rose bushes," Wille says quietly, feeling his cheeks burn hot. Simon doesn't need to know why Wille tried to get that one particular rose, the crimson one, the one that made Wille think of Simon, made the deep-seated yearning for his lover so much stronger. He doesn't need to know that it's getting harder and harder for Wille to go through every day like he's not just desperately waiting for the night to come and bring relief. Doesn't need to know that Wille had hoped having that one rose for himself would help, would make breathing easier. With those soft petals, velvety like the fabric of Simon's gown, the deep red color reminding him of Simon's lips whenever Wille has just let him have him. "Wille...," Simon sighs and Wille holds his breath when Simon brings Wille's hand up towards his face. Yes, he thinks, please, he thinks, mind spinning with the desire to have Simon add to the cuts, to feel that sweet sting cut through the dullness of the other pain. He wants Simon to tear into him and take. But Simon doesn't, Simon just presses his cold lips against the angry line of his palm and Wille wants to cry, not from the dull pain of pressure on the wound, way too dull, not the right kind of pain, and he wants to whine and wants Simon to just understand, to get that Wille doesn't need soothing right now, he needs something else, he needs Simon and Simon's hunger and Simon's arms around him and Simon's teeth sinking into him. When Simon lets Wille's hand sink, he lifts his head and meets Wille's eyes again, searching, looking for something. His jaw is tense, Wille can tell, he can always tell when Simon is trying to hold back, trying to put up a front, but Wille doesn't want that right now, he wants Simon to let go and for Simon to let Wille be there for him. He wants Simon to bite and to claw and to take and to drink and he wants to spend all of tomorrow knowing and remembering that he spent the night giving Simon what he needs. He wants tomorrow not to feel like the dull ache of missing Simon, but like the satisfaction, the pride, the joy of knowing that he and Simon have had each other and that he's been the one to quench his thirst. A dangerous little thought snakes his way into Wille's conscious, one that has him wondering if Simon would be quicker to give in if Wille only let more of the thorns tear his skin, if Simon would be more tempted if there were more little cuts taunting him. And maybe it should be a scary thought, maybe it should scare him that he wants this badly, so badly that he would willingly pierce his own skin for Simon to press his mouth against him, for Simon's tongue to lap up every last drop of blood. Simon's eyes zero in on him again, his brows furrowed, jawline twitching with tension. Wille wishes he could just get it, see it, sense it without him having to be the one to beg for it. And so he lifts his palm up again, raising it towards Simon's face, offering it, god, does he ever want to offer himself up to Simon. Simon's eyes are piercing in the way the dart between Wille's outstretched arm and Wille's face, looking, searching, always searching for answers there, and Wille hopes he finds what he's looking for, finds that everything in Wille is screaming out for Simon, that everything Wille has, is, is for Simon.

well... Wille sure has got it bad, huh. whenever I post stuff like this I need to mentally go kill that inner censor kill that inner censor kill that censor and.... well... idk, I guess it's working?!?!? Thank you thank you thank for being interested in vampire Simon and his simp of a human lover and thank you so much for the sentence!!! 💜💜💜 also @ everyone please excuse me doing this very much not in the order I got them but I'll get to every single one I promise! I was just feeling very vampire just now lmao

Send me "Wilmon" + a sentence and I'll write you (very much likely more than) 5 more!

[corysmiles]

would you ever consider writing bg3 g/t fearplay from the tiny’s perspective? maybe gale or wyll? im a sucker for characters that aren’t intimidating or scary being seen as terrifying from the tiny’s perspective.

YES ABSOLUTELY!!

Here is Gale fear play as a treat, Wyll will come soon >:)

——————————————————

Tav was used to being around the wizard.

It was only about a week into the whole tadpole predicament when Tav was noticed by the much larger people at the camp, and Gale had been one of the first in support of keeping the tiny with them. They’d been terrified of the group at the time, but the tadpole in their brain still called to the gigantic figures. And as scary as some of the giants were, they were all relatively careful and kind…aside from the vampire of course. Although even his teasing got better eventually.

Gale, however, was easily one of the least intimidating giants Tav had ever met.

The man never held them without permission and almost all conversations with him led to some discussion of magic or what it was like to be so small. He was curious to his core, and while he was fascinated by Tav’s stature, he was never disrespectful.

All in all, being scared of Gale, the most gentle giant they’d ever met, seemed like a ridiculous if not impossible notion.

That was, until they remembered how strong he truly was compared to them.

It was late at night when goblins snuck into their camp. Astarion noticed first, jumping up from his trance to alert the others. Tav barely had time to wipe the sleep from their eyes before they were harshly grabbed, warm skin squeezing tightly around them.

“Hey wait,” Tav yelled as they tried to push their way free, but the hand just grabbed tighter, making it hard to breath and causing theirs limbs to ache.

They tried to get their bearings, taking a gasping breath as they managed to push their head free, “Fucking hells, let me go!”

But the hand only wrapped around them tighter, squeezing their chest painfully causing a sharp pain in their lungs. They fought as hard as they could but it was no use, and after a few seconds of being crushed they were haphazardly thrown into something dark. A pocket…

All around them they heard yells and movement as the fabric twisted around them uncomfortably, but no matter how much they yelled they didn’t get a response. They twisted to try to orient themselves but every time they managed to sit up they were knocked back down again.

It felt like hours before it finally stopped, and Tav was shaking head to toe. The sounds around them died down as the person keeping them captive stopped moving so frantically. It was over.

“Hells…” a familiar loud voice exhaled from above them as a hand reached down to them…the same hand that not too long before had squeezed them so tight they feared they’d pop.

Instinctively they winced and flinched away, trying to avoid the grasping fingers. However, there wasn’t much they could do against someone so much larger than themselves. They kicked and scratched as the tight grip wrapped around them, gentler this time.

When they were pulled out into the light of the camp they were met with a familiar face- Gale, bloodied and breathing hard. And although the sight of him was usually a much wanted comfort, Tav’s lungs froze in their chest.

“My apologies for grabbing you earlier,” Gale started with an apologetic smile, “There was quite a bit of panic.”

Tav tried to process the man’s words, but their whole body was frozen. They felt like they were stuck in glue, and all they could move was their eyes.

“Are you alright?” Gale asked in concern, his brows furrowed together.

Tav wanted to respond, they really did, but it was like they had no control over their own body. Their mouth felt dry and their brain screamed at them to run.

Before they could even process it they had bolted upright and dashed to try to jump out of Gale’s hand. But the human was faster. Before Tav could get away the fingers closed over top of them. They yelped and covered their head with their arms, anticipating the moment he would crush them, but it never came.

“Woah there settle down,” Gale said in a hushed voice, “Are you alright? I apologize if I startled you earlier, but I didn’t want one of the goblins to find you first.”

Tav just shook in his closed fist, anxious to get away from the man. In the back of their head they knew Gale was safe, but at the moment, a much larger part of them felt like a cornered animal facing off against a wolf.

“I…” Gale paused, “I’m sorry, if I scared you. I promise it wasn’t my intention.”

As he said it he slowly opened his hand revealing to the shell-shocked tiny that they were now in the man’s tent. They were carefully placed down on one of the many pillows the wizard kept before the giant man backed away, hands up in reassurance.

“I won’t touch you again,” Gale frowned, “I promise. But I need you to breathe.”

Tav’s breaths still came in panicked gasps as they stared up at the giant man. They retreated back into the soft pillow as much as they could, and waited, eyes piercing into Gale’s own. The wizard seemed lost in thought for a moment as he studied the tiny’s reactions.

“Did I hurt you?” Gale asked after a moment, voice cautious and low.

It took a few seconds for Tav to build up the courage to respond, but when they did their voice was barely audible.

“It was…it was too tight.”

Immediately, Gale’s eyes widened in a flash of recognition. He took a step forward towards the tiny as if to comfort them, but paused when he saw their tiny form freeze.

“I…I’m quite sorry,” Gale mumbled, “I…fuck…I know what’s done is done, but I truly did not intend to bring you any harm…I admit I could have been more cautious but I suppose I wasn’t thinking.”

Tav watched as the man visibly shrunk in on himself; they could see the tightness in his stance like a band ready to snap.

“You can sleep somewhere else tonight,” Gale says again softly after a minute of silence, “You don’t have to stay in my tent, I’d understand.”

Tav took a deep breath as their eyes met the wizard’s. In the back of their mind they realized they had never seen him so upset before.

“No,” Tav responded, barely above a whisper, “It’s…it was an accident. I don’t know why I’m reacting like this I just…it hurt.”

Gale swallowed nervously, his throat bobbing, “And I could never apologize enough for that.”

Tav nodded in response, their movements stiff as their brain finally slowed its constant stream of run, run, run. As the panic wore off, Tav finally started to relax into the pillow under them. Gale really did look devastated.

“I just suppose I forgot,” Tav said slowly, “You all are much larger than me, but I’ve become so used to it I forgot anything could ever go wrong.”

Gale nodded in response with a sigh, “And I forgot you’re much more delicate than you seem.”

An uncomfortable quiet filled the tent as the two both searched for something to say. And although Tav felt much calmer than they had moments before, a deep part of them still feared their giant friend.

“It’s not your fault,” Tav finally managed to get out through dry lips, “You were just trying to help.”

Gale frowned at that as he finally took a step forward to sit down on the ground. Now closer to the tiny’s level, his eyes searched them like he was looking for something.

“But I still hurt you,” Gale said.

Tav grimaced at the man’s words and nodded, “It’s okay, I forgive you just…please be more careful next time.”

Finally a soft smile spread across the giant’s face as he exhaled a long sigh, “You know I was quite hoping there wouldn’t have to be a next time.”

For the first time that night Tav felt themselves relax, truly relax. As much as it had scared them they knew Gale meant what he said. The wizard was still kind, after all.

Tav nodded in response as a yawn escaped their lips, “Well, I’m beat after all that. And you look like shit, so I think it’s bed time.”

Gale laughed softly and shook his head, “Yes I do believe so.”

Carefully, he pulled himself into his sleeping bag, making sure not to jostle the pillow Tav was laying on. His movements were still stiff, like he was nervous the tiny would try to flee again if he moved too fast, but neither chose to say anything about it.

The proximity to the giant felt less comforting than it had in previous nights, but as Gale’s breaths evened out Tav let themselves relax. He wouldn’t hurt them, not on purpose.

And even if they still flinched whenever he shifted in his sleep, in their heart they knew that fact was true.

[mistress-of-vos]

For the "Im weak for you" prompt: "Aren't you at least a little bit ashamed of how blantaly you are exploiting my feelings for you?” As a continuation of yours A/B/O Tim as BruDick's biochild AU ficlet if it is ok?

// So happy to hear your ask, anon!!! 😍💚 //

.

Ra's isn't even sure why he's doing this. It's dangerous for them both, and shameful in a way he hadn't considered before. Yet here he is.

"Well, well, old man, are you going to fuck me already?" Tim giggles as he stretches on the mattres. His Robin suit glued to his petite body, omega pheromones filling the air of the room second by second. The alpha hadn't paid much attention before, but it's now impossible to ignore how the Wayne heir smells wonderfully sweet.

It's - well, perhaps wrong isn't the correct word. Ra's and Tim have seen each other through the years ever since the pup was barely able to talk. As Tim himself had said in their last encounter, she had been trying to separate Bruce Wayne from Dick Grayson for years, meaning that Ra's had needed to stay next to the kidnapped omega child more often than not.

When had Timothy turned into a bratty teenage omega without any kind of shame or decorum, Ra's could not tell. Maybe it started that one time Ra's had to stop Tim from jumping off a balcony, as a prom red dress was hardly adequate to face a snow storm.

Anyhow; in the present Tim is enjoying their meeting. He looks amused, eyes shimmering lovely. Ra's himself had ripped off the mask from Tim's doll face minutes ago when the omega was still half asleep due to the drug, and now Ra's' fingers itch painfully, desiring to get rid of that obscene suit as well.

It is less than honorable. The Batman could think of this as revenge, or an offense. But it has been Timothy who flirted during their last encounter, offering word by word something that Ra's does desire deep in his heart.

Ra's wants an alpha son, and having an intelligent, beautiful omega mate would be a cherry on top. Timothy is everything his mate should be, and that's exactly why the omega is laying on Ra's' bed as the alpha sits on a corner, slowly undoing his cape and shirt.

"You offered to bear me a heir," Ra's points out, unable to hide the growl of lust that leaves his throat. Tim smirks, showing those adorable tiny omega fangs of his, spreading even more in the bed to show Ra's just how long his legs are and how thin his torso is.

Timothy is somehow petite and long at the same time, and it reminds Ra's' of beautiful goddesses painted and sculpted in Greece: Young, thin and pale; big eyes like jewels and full lips that murmur temptations. Timothy looks nothing like his parents, but Ra's keeps in mind that this is the child of the one omega who managed to wrap the Batman around his finger, and perhaps Ra's should be more careful with this kitten-like creature that is looking at him with hunger.

"You will need to come closer, then," the omega purrs, smirk widening when Ra's throws his cape away and does get closer indeed, crawling on the bed as a tiger, unbuttoned shirt showing his chest hair and allowing his own alpha pheromones to travel to Tim's nose.

"Oh," is what Tim breathes when Ra's pulls him against him, rough hands squeezing his ass over the spandex fabric, fangs sinking on the exposed are of his neck.

"This suit of yours," Ra's murmurs, eyes dark as he looks at the beautifully shaped pair of small tits glued to the red shirt, "I want it off."

Tim manages to push Ra's down this time, gloved thin hands using all their force to make Ra's lay down. Tim is now sitting on his lip, naughty smile on his lips. Soon, the belt is off, then the gloves, and then manicured fingers are pulling the upper part of the Robin suit up slowly.

"What a pervert old man," Tim laughs as he shows off his breasts, "Babies don't appear just by looking, oh glorious Demon's Head."

Ra's gets a tic on his eye for a moment, but quickly forgives the insult when his hands cup Timothy's exquisite breasts. And the sounds the omega makes later... It's worth every inconvenience this kidnapping involves.

Nights later, Timothy is posing at the mirror, an unsatisfied gesture on his face as he looks at his silk outfit with matching jewels. Ra's, trying to focuse on his work, fails to not notice Timothy's annoyance.

"Is the collar not to your liking?" Ra's finally asks, embarrassed at just how much of his time and mind goes to this small yet spoiled omega who seems to take more space on his life second by second.

"It needs a tiara," Tim argues, turning around to see Ra's and tilt his head, "Don't you agree? A queen needs a crown, after all."

"A queen," Ra's murmurs, "Is that what you are calling yourself now?"

"That's the least I could be considering I'm going to bear your children," Tim hums as he walks towards Ra's' desk, "I believed you were a gentleman, Ra's; are you going to tell me you will offend me and my family by treating me as a mere concubine?"

Ra's blinks.

"Aren't you ashamed of how you exploit my feelings about you, beloved?" he regrets out loud, a roll on his eyes as he takes Tim's hands and makes the omega sit on his lap, "You seem to find joy in torturing me and insulting me every chance you have despite my worship towards you."

"Don't tell me my words offend the great Ra's al Ghul!" Tim giggles, batting his thick eyelashes at Ra's and poutting with his kissable lips, "In that case, it would be inappropriate to allow a mere mistress to hold such power you, don't you think?"

"Indeed," Ra's agrees, a hand caressing Tim's covered stomach, wondering if the omega was already carrying their first pup. He should, considering all the times they have shared a bed during these days; "You might be right, if you are to be mother of my heir, a title as high as mine is needed."

"Now we're talking," Tim purrs, index finger giving a soft pinch to Ra's' nose.

Just when their mouths are about to crash, four familiar people interrupt the calm of the palace.

Ra's' daughter, offended to every last blood drop in her body.

Tim's parents, scandalized and angry.

And a fourth one, who happens to be certain blonde vigilante with a flaming sword who it seems wasn't merely a friend of Tim. A friend wouldn't be overwhelmed with violence at the view of Tim next to Ra's, would he?

"Look at the bright side!" Tim sings as they run from the fight, ninjas trying to keep their enemies behind and Ubu coming down on a helicopter, "We don't have to arrange a family meeting anymore!"

Ra's ends up picking Timothy up and jumping off a window, wondering why, after 800 years of life, this curious omega manages to ruin his life like this.

He used to be an alpha with dignity!

(A few months later, when Tim is pregnant and needy, constantly dragging Ra's to their nest and begging for more, Ra's can't complain anymore.

This is a great solution, even if Batman keeps trying to kill Ra's. It's a small price for such happiness and pleasure, anyway.

And if Tim has the demon's head wrapped around his finger... Well, let's say Gotham's princess isn't as naive as other might think).

[askinkiskarma]

lllicit Affairs | Chapter VI: Death by a Thousand Cuts

Pairing: Neteyam x Human/Avatar!Reader

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Synopsis: You and Neteyam both have a dark secret that would change everything between you - and neither of you are willing to share.

Warnings: angst, some fluff, Lo'ak x reader, jealous!Neteyam, both main characters thirsting for each other, mentions of lab work, disease, blood, cursing.

Word Count: 7,2k words

A/N: Chapter 6 is the chapter that sets EVERYTHING in motion for what's to come. There is a LOT to come, a lot of drama and angst, maybe some smut (? 😉) and this chapter is meant as a stepping stone to the beginning of the end. Also, realised I forgot to ever mention, that if the dialogue is ever italicised, that usually means the conversation is in Na'vi, I don't know how I have never made it clearer, but here we are.

Thank you so much for everyone who's been reading and asking to be tagged, I never expected this to gain any traction and I am so grateful for people enjoying it x

My heart, my hips, my body, my love Trying to find a part of me that you didn't touch Gave you too much but it wasn't enough But I'll be all right, it's just a thousand cuts

One second. 

“Just one second, Neteyammm!”, you whined, as he was trying to remove the blanket from your currently very comfortable and very warm body. 

“It’s late, come on! Early bird catches the worm, isn’t that what you people say?”

“Nobody says that, I don’t know who told you this lie.” 

“It was you!!” he says, and he’s laughing at your whinging while trying to remove the blanket. He’s not trying that hard, considering he would make an easy job out of the task if he used a tenth of his actual force, but he couldn’t bear the thought of bringing you any unnecessary distress. You had enough of that in your life, and he wanted to be a source of comfort for you, a shelter in the storm. 

You scooted on one side of the bed close to the edge, and left a big gap which you brought to his attention by patting it aggressively. 

“Press the button on the audio player and lay with me, please? I don’t feel like going out today.”

He couldn’t say no to you, he realises. He would follow you anywhere in this world, do anything you asked of him, regardless how stupid or reckless or crazy it was. He would always follow you, for the rest of time, and he was happy about it. 

A song he liked came on, one that he’s heard you play before and there was no doubt in his mind that he liked it better when you sang it. He circled the bed and lay in it, next to you, in the dark. 

“Thank you, light of my life.” You attached yourself to him, arms sprawled across his bare chest and legs carelessly placed on top of abdomen and hips, and sighed contently. He could feel your warm breaths on his neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He turned his head to you and placed a small kiss on top of your head and listened to the soft tune filling up the room. 

“Oh, goddamn, my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

Taking mine, but it's been promised to another

Oh, I can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland

My house of stone, your ivy grows and now I'm covered in you”

“You’re annoying.”

“I know I am, but you love me anyway.”

I do, Neteyam thought. I really do…

Things happen in life sometimes, and it makes you lose your ability to react. There was no reaction, definitely no overreaction. You stared at the vial of blood that shattered all across the floor, all across you and your mind was blank. Almost robotically, you made your way to one of the benches and got some paper rolls and the IMS laying next to it. You carefully cleaned all of it, and spit whatever made its way to your mouth to the floor to be removed. When you were sure everything was gone, you went to the sink and removed your goggles and gloves, and scrubbed yourself clean. You felt yourself moving, picking up a bucket of water with some floor cleaner, felt yourself adding disinfectant to it and moping thoroughly, but it was like an out-of-body experience. Like you were merely a puppet executing orders from above. Cleaning everything took about an hour, after which you made your way back to your room slowly, deliberately. 

You didn’t sleep. You spent the whole night looking over everything you and the rest of the scientists have ever found out about this virus. You didn’t know its way of transmission. Maybe you had nothing to worry about, maybe it’s not by blood. You knew it’s not by air, you’ve seen plenty of people infected whose family was fine. So even if you do get infected, the people at the lab should be fine. Your friends would be fine. He would be fine. 

Next, incubation period. That’s a tough one, in-vitro studies show it takes the virus anywhere from 2 to 12 months to show symptoms. You don’t know how that changes in humans. You don’t know any of this shit for humans. You could be perfectly fine, you could die within the month. The thought made your blood run cold. 

You sat in your chair for the remainder of the night. Unmoving, unthinking. 

That’s how Norm found you.

“Hey, Ace. What are you doing up?”

You scrambled for a lie.

“Just woke up, actually. Listen, if you are going to check on the boy, can you please bring my supplies to the tent and tell the Sullys I won’t be in today? I was too exhausted to run any experiments yesterday so I will do it today.” 

“Oh… is everything alright? You haven’t missed a day in the village since you got your Avatar.”

“Yeah, everything’s fine, just worried about the boy and want to get to the bottom of this sooner rather than later, if possible.”

“Alright, I can bring you back some of his blood to run as well?”

“NO!” 

Norm’s eyes widened in shock at your response and you knew you fucked up, you knew you slipped up. Calm yourself… 

“It’s just not necessary at the moment since I have other blood and I don’t want to overwhelm him, if it’s not imperative. I will retrieve some blood when I check on him tomorrow.”

Norm looked at you with a concerned look, but eventually relented.

“Ok, whatever you think, Ace.” 

“Thanks, Norm.” 

“Let me know what you find tonight. I’ll tell Jake, but they might not be happy with you.”

“You can explain it’s an emergency, I’m sure they’ll understand.”

 

You struggled to get up and get your legs to not want to collapse beneath you. Eventually, you made your way to the sink and washed, you scrubbed your face as hard as you could without removing a layer of skin, and your teeth until you felt the familiar taste of metal coat your teeth. You hoped that maybe you tried hard enough, the last 6 hours can just be erased from your life, from world. You hoped it could undo the damage that would plague you for the rest of your most likely very short life. 

Luckily, most scientists seemed to be out. Claire was teaching Na’vi kids English at Grace’s old school that Jake deemed fit to be reopened, Max left with Norm to check on the situation of the village, and most of the Avatars would be out on missions or training with Jake. You made your way to the quiet halls to one of the labs, and prepared for your long day ahead. This will be hard to do by yourself, but not impossible. 

First step, respiratory fluids. You remove a sterile cotton swab and swab your pharynx as thoroughly as possible and place it in a tube. That’s easy enough. Next comes the blood. Finding a vein has always been hard for people to do on you, and it’s not gotten any easier in time, so after poking yourself a few times in the wrong place, you manage to get enough blood to run experiments on. 

Hours of sample preparation, incubation, pipetting and running went by at an excruciatingly slow pace, like the universe was revelling in making every second of torture last forever. You thanked your lucky stars of the progress made in lab equipment and that you didn’t have to spent days on one PCR, like your mum was saying it had to be done back on Earth about a century ago. Regardless, it took most of the day for you to do everything you needed, check for all the proteins and markers you knew were deregulated with this virus, and by the early hours of night, you were done. 

Aș people were starting to return to the hub as another day was nearing its end, you retreated back to your bedroom to work on the data analysis. You did not want to see anyone, did not want to speak to anyone until you knew at least some things. The less you talked, the less lies that had to come out of your mouth, and that seemed ideal to you. 

Inputting the data and having to wait on some software to give you your literal death sentence felt so tragic is was almost comical, and you had to stop and ask yourself if you were some serial killer in a past life to warrant all the pain and misery life seemed adamant to throw at you. For the first time in so long you couldn’t even remember, things were going… well. You were strong, and doing well, and lived outside of the walls of this lab. You had a chance at something more, you had a chance at maybe one day healing and working through your issues and maybe even coming out the other side a better, healthier version of yourself. You had a chance at love.

And there it was… positive. One second.

THE FIVE STAGES OF GRIEF  STAGE I: DENIAL

Your blood became poison in the span of half a day, but at least you now knew it wasn’t transmitted through air. That means no one else would have to suffer because of you. The thought made you weirdly calm, and you realised you didn’t care about your own health all along. No, you weren’t sad anymore, just relieved. A wide smile appeared on your face at the results, and you jumped out of the chair with enthusiasm at the great news. Everybody would be ok. Norm, Max, they would all be ok. You will handle all the virus experiments and blood samples from now on. They wouldn’t have reason to doubt you or question you, not when it made most sense anyway, since you were always in the village and knew the protocols and techniques the best, anyway. You would go on the same way as you had, and no one had to know or suffer because of your mistakes. 

With those thoughts still floating in your mind and a Xanax on your tongue, you made your way to the comfortable bed and crashed without a dream in sight. 

You were up before dawn again, and ready to get started on your day at the village. You were looking forward to gun training with Jake, and finally putting those years of practice to good use. You found Norm deep in thought in the link room, and he didn’t register you walking in until you patted his shoulder and he jumped out of his skin.

 

“Jesus, Ace. You scared the shit out of me.” 

“I noticed. Why so jumpy, Norm?” 

He gave you the quickest look known to man then quickly busied himself with literally anything else. “No reason, just focused on the task at hand.”

“…turning on the linkpod?” 

“No one likes a smartass, you know?” 

“So how was the village yesterday? How is the boy?” 

“He’s alright, still not great, but his vitals are stable for now.” You noticed he did not answer your question about the village, and found slight panic rising in your chest.

“Is everything okay? Did something happen in the village?” 

“No, Ace, everything’s fine. You don’t have to worry about everything, you know. How did the experiments go yesterday?” 

“The virus is not airborne, it seems to be transmitted by blood, so we need to be very careful handling samples.” 

“We always are. But good work, good to have some concrete evidence finally. I’ll look over your analysis soon.”

“You know, I’m not quite done with it, so maybe wait and we can look over it together?”

“Sure, that makes sense.”

You didn’t buy Norm’s pathetic attempts at deflecting the subject of the village, but you did not want to fight him so early in the day, so you guess you had to find out what happened for yourself. You woke up in your Avatar body soon enough, and could already tell the village was already awake and buzzing with the perspective of a new day. The guitar sitting on the ground next to your sleeping mat caught your eye, and you smiled softly at the memory which now seems a life away. Your fingers lingered on the chords and you strummed it gently a few times, enjoying the sounds that seemed to settle in your heart. Adjusting your braids in the small mirror you brought with you a few weeks ago, you made your way out of your tent and straight into Neteyam’s chest with a loud thud. 

“What the fuck?” You say, indignantly and then look up to find Neteyam watching you with an unreadable expression adorning his beautiful face. 

“Hi.” He says, and tries to muster a small smile. 

“Hi…? Is there any particular reason you have decided to attack me first thing in the morning?” 

“I was just coming to get you, I heard the guitar playing. I didn’t think you would be running straight into me. Are you ready? We can spend the morning tracking a herd of Talioang that the hunter party spotted a few clicks south of the village. It will be good practice for you.” 

“…alright? Can I get some food first? I’m famished.”

Neteyam shifted uncomfortably in front of you and looked… nervous, you realised. What the hell was going on with everyone?

“I have food that Ma packed for us, we can eat in the forest? I’d really rather get a move on as soon as possible, this will most likely take most of today, anyway.”

“Is there a particular reason you seem so eager for me to leave? You and Norm have both been acting weird today, and you are both terrible liars.”

Neteyam gave you a hard look. “Let’s go, Y/N. Unlike what you like to think, you don’t need to know everything, and not everything concerns you. Let’s go, now.” Nothing’s changed, you realised bitterly. Last night was just a fluke and you hated yourself in that moment for letting your guard down. 

“You can be a real dick sometimes, Neteyam.” You said and took off without looking at him. 

You ran for about 5 clicks without checking behind you, knowing full well he was following you, your hearing being one of the many senses that heightened in this body. You stopped suddenly at the sight of a huge footprint, one you could identify as the Sturmbeest, or a Talioang, like it was known to the Na’vi. Soon enough, you saw the ground littered with them, and began carefully tracking the beasts.

“Alright. How far would you say they are and which direction?” Neteyam asked, approaching you slowly. He was back to teaching mode, and you tried your best to learn, instead of recoiling and telling him to go to hell, which is what you really wanted to do. 

You touched the ground and felt it with your fingers, trying to assess the moisture level and deepness of the mark. You thought about for a while.

“I’d say they’re quite fresh. Maybe this morning? Taloioang move slowly, about 1 click every hour or two, so I’d say we’ll find them about 2 clicks east?”

He didn’t even have to touch the ground to be able to assess it. He was impressive. 

“Good. Let’s go. We shouldn’t run, they have good hearing and the wind is blowing east, which means they’ll be able to smell us if we’re not careful. We will take a roundabout way and approach them from the south.” 

You both made your way through the forest and it was your turn to follow him, although you stayed close behind and tried to look around you and pick up on clues, tiny sounds and movements, trying to learn, trying to see. “Eyes on the tracks, Y/N.” 

You rolled your eyes, but did as you were told. Eventually, Neteyam let you deem the appropriate time to stray from the tracks and move south to avoid being spotted. Soon enough, you saw the herd of prodigious beings, bathing in a shallow lake. You made your way slowly, sneaking on the ground, with Neteyam close to you, and you felt his arms grazing your sides every inch of the way. 

The herd was protecting the calves, 5 in total, playing and splashing in the clear water. You watched in amazement, just enjoying the view of these seemingly ferocious beasts that in the moment, felt more like a family watching their children play at the local pool. You couldn’t believe the beauty and mild predisposition, the complex nature of these animals whose equivalents were long gone on Earth, long decimated by humans and their needless desire for wealth and acquisition, for mindless cruelty. You felt your stomach drop at the realisation that soon, this could be Pandora, if you didn’t fight will all your being in the upcoming war. 

You felt a sudden gentle pressure on your lower back, a pressure you quickly identified as Neteyam’s hand and you shuddered at the touch. He neared his mouth to your ears, and you felt his warm breath tickling your neck, a sudden warmth pooling in your lower abdomen. 

“You’re not allowed to kill anything yet, but I want you to show me how you would go about it. Show me your bow work, how would you aim from this position.”

You slowly removed your bow from from your person and sat up, in a now crouched stance, and loaded the arrow, doing your best to accommodate for the uncomfortable position you were in and the tight space you were sharing with another person. You held your breath, engaged your core, and aimed as if you were going to release your arrow on the target about 300m away. Neteyam’s large hand touched your upper thigh, by your left hip and squeezed gently. Your arm dropped suddenly and snapped your head in his direction. He didn’t react to your sudden snap, instead talking lowly, so as to not give your location away. “Your leg is not in a position by which you can maximise release. You will have more power in the shot if you place this knee on the ground and lean into it.” 

You wanted to take that hand and either break it or redirect it on other parts of your body that felt like they would explode if they didn’t feel him, have his touch provide the relief that was desperately yearned for, needed. You wanted to scream at him or make him coax the screams out of you like a war-cry, wild and desperate. You wanted to kill him, you wanted him to kill you, slowly and painfully, taking his time on your body until you were falling apart at the seams around him. You hated him, you loved him. You hated him.

You gave him a hard look, an angry look directed at your thigh, and he removed his hand from you. You wondered if he knew, knew what he was doing, wondered if he felt the same way, if he too was struggling to catch his breath at the torture of knowing he can’t have you, claim you, right now, right in this second, right here. You hoped he did, hope it ate him alive, the yearning and the desire. Because that’s what it was doing to you, what he was doing to you. You turned your attention back to the herd and adjusted your position based on his advice. He was right, you could tell right away, as you felt a lot more power when aiming the arrow this time. 

“Much better. We can go now, we will give the location to the hunting party and the will be able to secure us dinner for a couple of weeks from the back of a couple of Ikrans.”

 

You made your way out of their surroundings, and slowly started walking back to the village. After about half an hour, he stopped on a rock and removed the food he was carrying in a pouch. You didn’t join him, preferring to keep your distance and thus a clear mind, not being able to afford being weak around him anymore. 

“I thought you were famished.” He says, with a slight smile. You shook your head and turned around, taking in the views of the forest, distracting yourself with the flowers reaching out their neon green tendrils towards you. You kneeled next to one, and touched them gently, enjoying the way they cupped around your hand and tugged, like they were urging you to come closer so they can spill their long-forgotten dreams to you. You heard him sigh loudly.

“Sorry for being a dick. Just had a fight with mum and dad, and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have, and I am sorry. Come eat, please? I don’t want you passing out on me, you’re not as easy to carry as you used to be when you were human.” 

You remained on your knees still, focused on only the plants and your gentle tug-of-war. You knew how much pressure Neteyam was under, has been for pretty much his entire life. A prodigy created… or made, no one could really know for sure, he began training when most babies learn to walk, and speak, and play. He has never had a childhood the way Lo’ak, or Kiri, or Tuk, or pretty much any other Na’vi children did, mostly fleeting moments of bliss in between a lot more moments of stress and struggle. He never complained, though. Not out loud, not to anyone else but you, once he realised you were a safe haven from the storm. You didn’t pass judgement, or make him feel bad for sharing his feelings, and he felt like he could tell you all the hardest truths his heart has always craved to speak out loud. You have always wanted to protect him from the world, a world that demanded so much of him, that asked for a sacrifice of which it was undeserving. Being Olo’yektan, leading the people, being the one person everyone relied on was a great honour, a great achievement - one you didn’t think he wanted, but was never given the chance to decline. 

“What happened?” 

You walked slowly towards the rock he was laying on, and sat at its foot, crossing your legs on the slightly damp grass. You grabbed a piece of jerky from the pile of food and slowly chewed through it, humming in appreciation at the smoky taste and rich flavour of the meat. 

Neteyam grimaced and didn’t look at you, choosing to focus instead of his arm guards, picking at something that was clearly not there. “More sacrifices I need to make in the name of the future, of the people.” 

“I see you still haven’t learnt to say no, even after all this time apart.” 

Neteyam’s hand froze in midair, his eyes widening slightly - it was the first time you brought up the year apart. He braced himself for what he thought was the beginning of the end, of you finally demanding answers he didn’t think would ever satisfy you, but no other words left your lips.  

“I can’t say no. I owe my parents everything I have, everything I am. This village, this life, is all I know. My dad gave up on everything he knew to stand up for our people, to make sure we’d get a future worth living, a family worth saving, a world still worth fighting for. He became Olo’yektan despite all that stood against him because he loved my mum, loved us, even then, even before we were born. My grandpa died defending this village, watching home tree get decimated in front of his eyes, with only the people’s safety on his mind and tongue. I see that bow that my mum cherishes like a gift from Eywa herself and I want to be worthy of it, someday. And if it means giving up some things, maybe that’s just how it’s meant to be.” 

“Maybe whatever you’re giving up is making room for something ever better, Neteyam. Sometimes we want something so bad, we can’t see the forest for the trees.” 

He looks at you confused for a second.

“That’s a saying. What I’m trying to say is maybe you are over focused on something you want right now, that you think is the best thing for you, but maybe you just are not focusing on the bigger picture. Maybe in the future, whatever you’re giving up now will make room for something that was much better for you all along.”

Disappointment filled his chest at your words. Neteyam looked at you with deep sadness marking his features, and he could see you were trying to think of things to say that could make him feel better. In all honesty, he wanted - needed - you to tell him to be selfish, and trust his gut, and follow what he knew was right in his heart, but he also knew that being selfish is not a trait that came naturally to you. You have always respected the deep bond Neteyam had to his family and his people and you always used to tell him how proud of him you were for how strong he was, for the lengths he was willing to go to to protect and nurture those bonds. 

You felt an overwhelming sense of grief at the realisation that you will never get to see him become Olo’yektan, see him become the man everybody knew he was. He would never be yours, and although that painful conclusion had settled in your soul and had time to scar in all the time you knew him, a new wound, deeper, bloodier, deadlier, tore your heart apart at the thought you would not even be able to watch from afar. You would have been satisfied with scraps, just watching him rule, and be, and love someone else and imagining it was you. You never thought you’d get more than that anyway, never had any delusions for more. The scraps would have been enough, and now even those were brutally taken from you, like everything else in this life. 

You needed to leave, now. 

“Should we head back? It’s getting late.”

You walked back in deep, uncomfortable silence. Eclipse made the nature shine and glimmer with colours your sadness dulled to muted tones. There was light coming from the village and you realise how badly you wanted to be alone, in your tent and read, or watch a movie or a show, and ignore this world for a little while while you licked your newly-opened wounds. Tonight was a communal dinner around the big bonfire in the centre of the village, and you felt grateful your presence would not be missed in such a crowd. You’ve come to love these dinners, another one of the many ways the tribe connected to the village and to each other, but tonight you couldn’t entertain even the thought long enough to count.

“Can you please tell your family I am sorry, but I will probably head to bed early. I’ll be early for breakfast tomorrow, I promise.” 

“I can do that. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You nodded absentmindedly and closed the flap of the tent shut.

Neteyam watched as you left him, still reeling from your conversation. Much like you, he just wished to hide in his family’s tent and pretend for a night things are different, that they are better. Actually, if we are talking about wishes, he wishes he could be in your tent. In all honestly, dealing with you on a day to day basis, seeing you, your body, touching it more and longer than he knew he reasonably had to, was making him think thoughts he knew he had no business thinking. In his wildest dreams, he’d be in your tent and making your eyes roll back in the way that drove him crazy. In his wildest dreams, he’d be coaxing sounds out of you that only he would ever hear. In his wildest dreams, your hands all over him would heal him and break him at the same time. He was desperately in need of some relief, and he loathed all decisions in his life that lead to you not being able to be the one to provide it for him. 

He made his way to the bonfire, and greeted all of the Na’vi that respectfully bowed their heads at his arrival. He saw his family at the centre of the crowd, where they normally sat, and joined them silently. They all gave him uneasy looks - all but one. Lo’ak was blatantly glaring at the older Sully, a look of disappointment and disgust marring his normally kind face that reminded Neteyam so much of their dad. 

“Did you tell her?” 

Kiri elbowed Lo’ak in the abdomen, but he didn’t flinch. He did not even bother to acknowledge Kiri, or the low hiss escaping their mum’s lips - his eyes were still boring into Neteyam, unwavering. 

“No.” Neteyam’s expression darkened and in a split second, he became the warrior his dad moulded him into. “And you will not, either, Lo’ak. Do you understand me?” Lo’ak had to look up to look at his brother who was now dangerously towering over him. 

“Oh, the mighty warrior giving out orders, what else is new?” 

“Lo’ak, that’s enough.” Neteyam heard Jake intervene, and he eventually had to physically put his body in between his two sons, who still refused to look away from each other.

“Fnawe’tu (coward).”

 

Neteyam watched his brother turn his back on his family and walk away from the feast, and although he wouldn’t admit it to himself, he knew deep down that Lo’ak was right.

 

You were almost robotically flipping through the directory of movies and tv shows on the laptop that you had with you in the village, not quite ready to go back to the lab and have to deal with the consequences of your newly acquired “condition”. You had all night to do experiments, and lie to yourself that you were fine until you eventually succumbed to a Xanax-induced blackout. You wanted to be in this body just a little while longer, because, in this body, it was easy to forget the realities of your actual life.

You saw a five-fingered hand emerge from the entrance to your tent, and you laughed incredulously at the clown you loved, who seemed to have a knack for improving your dour mood.

“I am here to bother you.” You got up and started making your way towards the entrance of your tent.

“Shouldn’t you be at dinner?” You say, laughing and pulling Lo’ak by the hand, so he stumbles unattractively into you. 

You wrap your arms around him and hug him gently. “Skxawng.” 

“I should, but I am here instead. We haven’t had movie night in so long.” He lay on your sleep mat and you hissed for him to move over. “You’re getting way too comfortable hissing at people.”

“Not people, Lo’ak, you!” You smiled saying that, knowing you were quoting Kiri, and he groaned exasperatedly. 

A few more weeks passed, and you felt the discrepancy between your bodies become more pronounced than it had ever been. It turns out, the incubation period of a Na’vi virus in a human is not long at all, and roughly around last week, you began displaying symptoms. You were taking every drug under the sun to try to soften them, but you had seen one too many good Na’vi people die due to this to know what was lurking underneath the comfortable cushion of drug-induced health. Despite all that, you felt on top of the world in your avatar. You were continuously improving, and, with a little bit of luck, will be completing your first kill soon - the first stepping stone to becoming Taronyu, hunter. If you do that successfully, you will be taking your Iknimaya with other Na’vi apprentices, and finally get your own Ikran. You were buzzing at the thought, and the image of you flying in the sky was enough to push any other worries out of your mind. 

After that weird day that ended with Lo’ak in your tent watching Friends together and teaching him the chords to a song you both loved, things went back to normal, sort of. You couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that the Sullys were hiding something from you. They exchanged looks, and avoided certain subjects, and you were starting to be worried they guessed you were ill, and were tiptoeing around the subject so as to not upset you. That was a good theory, although it could not explain the heavy tension between Neteyam and Lo’ak that also started that night. 

You saw them bicker and fight your whole life: two opposing personalities, both of whom had misunderstandings about the other. Neteyam could never understand Lo’ak, understand that, despite being the chieftain’s son and the grandson of the Tsahik and former Olo’yektan, people still looked at him like he was not quite full Na’vi. His eyebrows and five fingers made his appearance uncanny enough to always attract whispers and looks, and despite Lo’ak’s apparent devil-may-care attitude, he cared. Neteyam could also not understand anyone who wished to live freely and discover themselves, make decisions and choices that would lead to a happy, fulfilled life, rather than a proud and accomplished one. Finally, Neteyam did not understand that skill and tenacity doesn’t come easy to everybody, and the weight of living in his shadow was bearing heavily on his baby brother’s back. 

On the other hand, Lo’ak never tried to understand the burden Neteyam had to carry, because, in his desire to not appear weak, he took it in strides and never complained. Lo’ak never fully understood the downfalls of what being “the perfect son” brings: no freedom, no childhood, no time, no fun, no choice. He only ever focused on the positives: praise from his family and clan, skill and composure, the title of future Leader of the Omatikaya. He will also never be able to understand the depths of Neteyam’s love for him, who, despite all their differences, would be willing to sacrifice everything, even his own life, to make sure his baby brother would never having to experience these burdens.

This tension felt like more. More than you’ve ever seen, not mended in time, they were always glowering at each other and only speaking to each other if prompted or forced by their increasingly frustrated family. You tried to talk to both of them individually and ask, but you were promptly sent on your way each time. You could tell Lo’ak was itching to spit it out, but every time he got close, he flashed you a look of hurt and fear, and moved on. 

Eventually, you stopped worrying about it. It will come out in time, and you had better things to worry about. Your training became brutal after that day tracking Sturmbeests. Neteyam would come to your tent before dawn, sometimes having to wait for you while you woke up in your Avatar body, and you were always gone past eclipse. You were tracking, joining hunting parties to learn, working on shooting arrows while on Pa’li or in nearly impossible positions (he made you shoot targets hanging upside down from the branches of trees, seriously) and working on guns and practicing with Jake and his soldiers. Jake made you his second-in-command during these sessions, and you enjoyed having the roles reversed and having to watch Neteyam squirm every time you touched his arm, or waist, or thighs, in order to adjust his shooting form. You also taught Lo’ak, sometimes late in the nights, where he would sneak into your tent and ask you questions about guns that he hoped would bring him in his father’s good graces for once in his life. You loved teaching them, and you felt powerful with all the eyes on you, trying to absorb every piece of information coming out of your mouth. 

“In your hands, you are holding a sub machine-gun.” You said and you made your way through the 10 soldiers in your midst. “It can fire up 600 rounds per minute. You have a button on the side of the weapon, as you can see right there”, you stopped and show everyone on your own weapon, “that allows you to choose between semi automatic and fully automatic. What’s the difference, Lo’ak?”

“A semi-automatic guns fires one shot when you pull the trigger, a fully automatic gun fires continuously until you release the trigger.” 

“Tsantu (good guy)!” you said with an intimate smile. Lo’ak was making amazing progress, and you were proud to be even a small reason why. 

Neteyam gave Lo’ak a hard look as he answered your question. He was angry with his brother because of his recent attitude, he thought. That’s the reason. Not at all because you were smiling at him with that dazzling smile that used to be reserved for him years ago, definitely not because he knew Lo’ak was sneaking in your tent at night and doing Eywa-knows-what, a fact which kept Neteyam up nights with images he would do everything in his power to be able to erase from his brain. Neteyam was exhausted. He hasn’t slept since this thing started, not until Lo’ak returned to his tent after his meetings with you, and he was able to look at him in the dim light of the night and gauge for himself if his brother was flushed, or panting, or extra happy for one reason or another. Despite never seeing anything that he could deem suspicious, the images of his baby brother taking for himself what was his, what should be his, haunted him and made him sick to his stomach. 

Coward. Lo’ak words rang in his ears incessantly throughout each day, never being able to fully block them out. 

Neteyam saw you move from Lo’ak and towards him, and tried to remember what they were talking about. Sub-machine guns, right. 

“Now, SMGs are best used in tighter quarters or close to mid-range. The spread will make it inefficient for long-range. If you find yourself on the back of your Ikran shooting at a plane or Valkyrie, make sure you close the gap between you or use your bow, instead.”

“An SMG will have a lot of recoil, making it harder to shoot accurately, but there are a few tips you can use to make to improve your aim and accuracy.”

“First. Always fire in short bursts, if you are firing on automatic mode. A few shots at a time will make sure the kick is not unmanageable. Two, account for the kick and adjust your aim to compensate. Think of shooting an arrow and how you always take the wind, its direction, speed and power in consideration before you actually release. It’s a similar principle. The recoil will make the gun kick upwards, so always aim slightly lower than what you want to hit. Three, don’t aim for the head. Leave that for a bow or an assault/sniper rifle with a scope. Aim for the abdomen and chest, since that is a wider target and more likely to hit. Everyone on the same page?”

Neteyam was forever in awe of you, but it was particularly impressive watching you now. You were confident and powerful and knowledgeable. Neteyam felt bad admitting it, but you were a much better teacher than their dad ever was. Toruk Makto had many incredible qualities, but his patience was definitely not amongst them, and his lessons tend to get a bit derailed by his inability to understand that Na’vi are not predisposed to guns or understanding Sky People technology. You were calm, and kind, and funny, and you made it easy for everyone to follow your instructions. In the span on a few weeks, all of the Na’vi and Avatar soldiers training for the upcoming war became better at pretty much every aspect that they were training in, and I think everyone felt just a bit more comfortable about the conflict that was soon to befall them, with you by their side. 

After the lesson was complete, you left alongside Lo’ak, sparing one last look in Neteyam’s direction. He was already watching you, and you saw a fleeting angry look that was quickly replaced with an expressionless mask. He was getting good at that, you thought. 

“Do you want to do anything? If I have to listen to Kiri talk about all the new types of flowers and plants and shit she keeps finding in the woods, I will lose my mind.”

“Be nice.” 

Kiri has been particularly hyperfixated on her newfound discoveries recently, and you tried your best to pay attention to every time she was describing them, in detail, but in reality you were always so exhausted by the time dinner came around that you were only assimilating about a tenth of all the words coming out of her mouth. You felt bad, and made a mental note to dedicate a couple of days to your friend that you saw less and less each week. 

“Your Iknimaya is getting closer and closer each day, how do you feel?”

“Honestly I haven’t thought about it that much, just taking it one day at a time.”

“I think you should start thinking about it, cause it’s going to happen. You’ve managed to blow everyone’s expectations out of the water. It barely been two months since you got your avatar body, not even my dad did this so fast. You were made for this, Angel.” 

You didn’t know what to say to that. You were grateful for Lo’ak’s faith in you, but with everything happening in your human body, it felt pointless looking towards the future. 

“You will be one of us, soon. I’ve had dreams about this my whole life, you know? It’s like I manifested your Avatar, Norm should be thanking me.” 

“Lo’ak…” 

You didn’t like the turn this conversation took, and felt an uncomfortable twinge settle in your chest at his words. 

“There are perks that come with being an Omatikaya, you know? You can make your bow out of the wood of the Home Tree… and you can choose a mate.” 

Fuck. 

Neteyam was making his way back to the village with the rest of the soldiers, casually chatting to one of the Avatars returning with them. He wasn’t paying attention to the way until his body knocked into one of the Na’vi walking in front of him. Utsou was staring intently at a scene unfolding in front of him, a scene that turned Neteyam’s blood to shards of glass, leaving cuts and bruises along his entire body. It was you, smiling, running your hand up and down Lo’ak’s arm whilst his hand was cupping your face and caressing your cheek. It was such an intimate interaction, it felt wrong to everyone there to even be able to witness it, and Neteyam felt himself becoming nauseous. With the image now seared into his memory and rage turning his breaths to pants, he turned around and left everything - everyone - behind. 

Tag list: @nuhteyam @eywas-heir @fanboyluvr @mashiromochi @puffb4ll @sassy-persona @simp4ff @mommyneytiri @hayhay9091

[fruitsoxs]

the last anon holyshit <33333 maybe for Vash too?

of course!! he's such a loser I love him <3

pairings: vash x (gender neutral) reader

warnings: !nsfw minors dni! , masturbating , descriptions of moaning, all that fun stuff

notes: this took me forever lol. no beta again im praying there aren't any errors

It’s almost like a breath of fresh air slumping down onto the bed after a long day of wandering through the desert. Vash’s back hits the mattress and he lets out a soft sigh, closing his eyes. Originally he was planning on slinking down to the bar to let loose a little, but he found himself just too tired to drink with strangers.  He was expecting you to be in here when he wandered in, but the room seemed empty. The only hint that you hadn’t escaped to join the others is the running water Vash can hear from the bathroom. You must be taking a shower. He was hoping to catch some one on one time with you before he passes out for the night, but he can wait until morning. 

He starts peeling off his boots, followed by his jacket. He considers taking off his shirt. It’s not like you haven’t seen his scars before, but he’s just not sure. His fingers drift down to the bottom hem of the tight black shirt he wears, hesitating to pull it all the way off. He’s just about to find the courage when a noise from the bathroom pulls his attention away.

“F-Fuck-” Your voice echos through the room, causing Vash’s face to flush. 

At first he feels a bit panicked. Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? He’s by the door, about to open it and save you.However, a high pitched whine makes the worried man stop in his tracks. That didn’t sound like a pained whimper at all. No, that was…a sound that can only come from one thing.

Vash’s face turns completely red as the noises continue. Each louder than the last. He definitely should not be listening to this. You probably thought you were alone! Yet, his feet stay planted just outside the bathroom. His eyes shift to the door into the inn room. It would be so easy to just walk out, and pretend he never heard a thing.

The sweet noises you’re making are almost too much to bear though. His pants seem to be growing uncomfortably tight. Would it hurt to just stay for a little bit? After all, it’s unfair that you’re making such beautiful noises without an audience. He bites the inside of his cheek as his hand runs down to palm himself through his pants gently.

You let out a loud moan, and Vash finds himself pushing against his dick a little harder. The friction isn’t enough to satisfy him, but he’s scared to go any further. He wishes he could see what you’re doing to yourself. His brain is full of a sweet fog that makes his thoughts run wild. Are you standing up, or are you sitting down? The water must be running off your body so nicely. He’s always wondered what you looked like underneath your clothes. Probably perfect. 

You’re always so perfect.

His hand slips between the waistline of his pants, clutching desperately at himself. His breaths are coming out ragged, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration with his lips parted slightly. You call out to god in a way that has him humping his hand. He wants to be the one making you moan like that. He wants to taste you.

His cheeks are bright pink now. His metal arm is pressed against the bathroom door, holding the frame so tightly he’s sure there will be a handprint there. He doesn’t care though. He’s chasing the high that only you can bring him.

“Oh- Vash~”

His brain goes a bit fuzzy, and although his body screams at him to cum right there, he doesn’t. Did you just say his name? That can’t be right. He presses his ear against the door, his dick throbbing. “Vash please~” You say his name again. His eyes are wide, and his hand falls back around his cock. His body is now pressed against the door as you repeat his name over and over. It’s music to his ears.

He lets out a soft grunt and then…

The door opens.

He falls against the cool ground of the bathroom with a thump. He holds out his arms, but he barely has time to catch himself. He’s so glad he didn’t take his dick out now.  You let out a soft squeal  from inside the shower, and rip open the curtains. Vash turns his head just in time to make eye contact with you. Your eyes are still wide, and a little dilated. Your cheeks are so pink, and the water is running off your hair and onto your bare shoulders. His eyes drift down, until he realizes that he’s currently looking at you completely in the nude.

He lets out his own yelp, and covers his eyes. His face is completely red now.

“Va-Vash? I thought you were gonna go get a drink!” You exclaim, hiding yourself behind the curtain. He lets out a shy chuckle. “I uh- I changed my mind.” He explains, his eyes still covered. There’s an awkward silence before you finally ask. “Did you hear everything?” 

He doesn’t say anything for a second. His heart is beating so fast. 

“Uh yeah.” he finally mumbles, letting his hands drop so he can see you again. You look embarrassed. He doesn’t want that. “I…kind of enjoyed it?” Oh no he sounds like a creep! You smile though, and let the shower curtain fall away. “Well…maybe you want to…join me then?” you ask.

His eyes widen, but he’s up in an instant. He tears off his clothes without a second thought as you giggle and pull him in to join you. 

You probably won’t be needing that second bed anymore. 

[nicksolemnlyswears]

HOTD S2 EP2 THOUGHTS

SPOILERS AHEAD

I need to start this by the very strange scene at the brothel. It took me so much by surprise I had to pause it. Like we all know these boys have mommy issues but I always thought it was more Aegon than Aemond. Like wow. I was left like this

It was the intimate position, his hair was down, the lack of clothes. He was completely vulnerable. Aemond wanted to be coddled and to be told reassuring words.

I didn’t understand well the part where she tries to kiss him and he says “not here” like sure man. you’re just naked and telling the keeps secret but go off [ngl i was waiting for her to pop a boob out and breast feed him]

that woman is a dangerous woman. she had scheming eyes. we’ll see where that goes.

Following up with the mommy issues I am so disappointed in Alicent. Aegon is clearly not her favorite child I do not know how she can bear seeing him weep as he seeks her out and she just nopes out. WTF. No wonder your other son is seeking refuge elsewhere. Also forcing Haelena to do the funeral proceeding. What sort of mother are you? The Greens think they’re so high and mighty but they barely resemble a family. They are not a united front.

The funeral proceedings almost had me in tears. I didn’t think they’d show the poor child with its head sewn back together. I thought he’d be covered. Now more so than ever I curse Alicent. You are forcing your daughter who had to witness his death relieve this scene. You forced her to watch her son be paraded around the city.

Daemon fucked up and it’s because of him that a child is dead and yet I can’t bring myself to hate the Blacks. The Greens are terrible people.

Aegon is falling apart and mourning and he has no one to come to. He doesn’t know how to control his emotions and I can’t blame him for it when his mother and grandfather only use him as a puppet and not a real human being. I pity the Hightower children.

That being said WTF was that? Making Ser Criston Cole the hand to the king? Disgusting. He was projecting so hard during this episode. Bitching about Arryks dirty cloak and blaming him for Jaeherys death.

BITCH IT WAS YOUR FAULT FOR GETTING YOUR COCK WET. FUCKING CRISTON COLE I CANT FUCKING STAND HIM. I CANT EVEN SAY IM HAPPY ALICENT SLAPPED HIM CAUSE HE PROBABLY ENJOYED IT.

I’ve got more to say regarding the Greens but my blood pressure is going up. Let me recap I hate them and I pity them all at the same time because the three children are only products of Alicent and Otto’s parenting (Viserys up to some point to)

Oh and let’s not forget Otto’s kind words for Viserys. He probably just misses how easy he was to control.

MOVING ONTO THE BLACKS

Baby Jace and Baela I love that little moment and yet I fear it because she’s out there on cute little Moondancer and it sounds like trouble.

Love the Ser Harwin talk. They acknowledge it and they accept it. Talk about being progressive.

But also so sad that Baela feels that way towards Daemon. I had high hopes for their relationship considering that deleted scene in season 1.

RHAENYS HAVING RHAENYRAS BACK TALK ABOUT FEMINISM. HELL YEAH! I fully want Rhaenys to be Rhaenyras ride or die!!

Daemon fucked up, yes. Will we ever know what he told Blood and Cheese? No. Still I can’t blame Rhaenyra for doubting him. He’s a sketchy man who puts on his little cloak to commit war crimes.

Don’t get me wrong I’m a Daemon stan but if he didn’t act so sketchy maybe we would trust him more.

He’s a dramatic guy he’s out commuting yet another big declaration of love for Rhaenyra. Like “look i’ve got harrenhal for you” I think idk we’ll see next episode.

Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk how fucking tragic. and whose fault is it? FUCKING CRISTON COLE PIECE OF SHIT

breathe nikki breathe

a part of me thinks he killed himself because he knew they would live in doubt if he’s really sir erryk. but in reality they believed they share a soul so that was probably why. he killed his other fucking half. they might be divided by believes but they still love each other.

ELINDA IS A REAL HANDMAID. SHE FOLLOWED INSTRUCTIONS AND LOOKED FOR A GUARD. Haelenas maid could never.

I have so many more thoughts so if anyone wants to talk please feel free to hit me up. I’ll probably rewatch the episode tomorrow again to process

[bearlylogic]

Nightmares (chreon oneshot)

pairing: leon x chris

summary: Leon has a nightmare, and Chris has to help him go back to sleep-- despite his protests.

word count: 2.7k

tags: nightmares, emotional hurt/comfort

NOTE: long story short i made a writing blog but decided to keep it all under this blog buuuut i do wanna start writing more!! mostly re rn but i have some other stuff planned..

honestly if anyone who's reading this has any requests dont be afraid to send them in, i might consider writing a lil something, but no promises bc im scared of people and i take forever to write anything

but still :)

Chris wakes to a shout.

He sits up, heart racing, instinctively reaching for the lamp on the nightstand. Immediately he turns to Leon beside him— he’s thrashing wildly about in his sleep, clearly caught in the throes of some kind of panic. He makes another noise, like a wounded animal. It sounds wrong. 

Anxiety grips Chris’ spine. He moves cautiously towards Leon, settles a hand on his shoulder. He calls his name, trying to be heard over the sounds Leon is making. 

He continues thrashing.

Chris grows more frantic. He grabs both of Leon’s shoulders and shakes him, maybe a little too roughly for someone who’s not in their right mind, but he’s never seen the man like this before. Chris is about to shout Leon’s name again, louder, but the man’s eyes snap open wide. Breathing heavily, he lurches upright.

“Leon,” Chris breathes. “Jesus, I didn’t-”

Before he can finish speaking, Leon lashes out against him with a cry of terror. He blindly swings his fists in Chris’ direction. Chris scrambles to grab for his wrists, but the other man is relentless. His fist manages to connect with Chris’ cheek and he curses, clutching tenderly at his face.

He hears a loud thud and looks up to find that Leon is no longer in the bed— he’s fallen to the floor.

Leon blinks rapidly. He looks up at Chris, and recognition dawns on his face at last. Now that Chris is actually looking at his face, he realizes that there are tears streaking down Leon's cheeks. “Chris,” he chokes out around a sob. 

The aggression seizing his body just seconds before completely vanishes, and what remains on the ground is a trembling mess of a man tangled in bedsheets. He looks frighteningly small. 

Moving as slowly as he can, Chris drops down onto the floor next to Leon. He flinches but remains where he is, gasping for air. Chris doesn't say a word, but he reaches out to take Leon’s hand into his own. 

Chris listens in silence as he fights to get his breathing under control. Leon is gripping his hand hard, and it’s starting to hurt, but Chris just lets him.

“Hey,” he whispers. “Listen. Just breathe with me.”

Leon whimpers. “B-but I-”

“Shh. Just do it. Breathe in…” He inhales slowly, prompting Leon to do the same. “...and out.” He exhales just as slowly.

He does it over and over again, watching Leon, waiting patiently for him to calm. Eventually he does— his breathing slows to match Chris’, and his crying fades to intermittent sniffles. He heaves a world-bearing sigh and rakes a hand through his hair. “Fuck.”

Chris rubs his thumb against the side of Leon’s palm. “Okay now?”

He swallows hard. There’s still a slight hitch in his breathing. “I’m… I’m fine.”

“You sure? Because that- that seemed pretty bad.”

“It was. Felt so fucking real…”

Chris reaches out to draw Leon into his arms. Normally the man would’ve stiffened and pulled away, but now he just slumps forward against him, like he’s too exhausted to keep up his defenses. His head comes to rest on Chris’ shoulder

“I know,” he whispers, rubbing a palm soothingly up and down Leon’s back. “That’s the worst thing about nightmares, isn’t it?”

Leon nods against him.

“Do you… want to talk about it?”

He stiffens. Shakes his head.

“Okay,” he says gently. “That’s fine. We can just sit.”

Leon seems to be okay with this, because that’s exactly what they do. Chris holds him fast, listening to his breathing slowly return to normal. All of this has become a routine in some twisted way, he thinks— Leon waking up screaming, and Chris doing his best to comfort him and coax him back to sleep. Well, minus Leon getting physically violent during a nightmare; that had never happened before tonight. Chris’ cheek is still throbbing. Even in sleep Leon could sure throw a punch…

Chris glances up at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand. It’s a little past two in the morning.

“It’s late. You should try to go back to sleep.”

Leon leans back with his hands on Chris’ shoulders. “N-no, I can’t…”

His voice is high and desperate, cracking on the last word. Chris is so unfamiliar with hearing him like this, this terrified… Seeing Leon in this raw, unfiltered state feels almost wrong. Like a violation of his privacy. This, he knows, is the Leon that walls have been built around. The one that is hidden from the world.

“Okay, alright…” He grabs for one of his hands again. Squeezes it. “So what now?”

“I'm going to go sit on the couch,” Leon says. He briefly returns the pressure, then untangles himself from the sheets wrapped around his legs and stands. Without another word he's gone, out of the room, and Chris is left sitting alone on the floor beside the bed. 

…

“Thought you said you were going to sit on the couch.”

Leon looks up at him from where he’s seated in front of the couch on the floor. He’s watching something on the TV—  if Chris had to guess, The French Connection.

He doesn’t say anything, just leans his head back on the couch cushions and gazes at Chris. He really looks dreadful; dark circles shadowing his sunken eyes, frazzled hair, and a miserable expression on his face. It causes an almost physical ache in Chris’ chest.

“Can’t risk falling back asleep,” Leon says hoarsely.

Chris crosses the room and sits down on the couch. He pats the space next to him. “Sit with me.”

“Chris, please…”

“You don’t have to sleep. I just want you to sit with me.”

Leon huffs, but he picks himself up and sinks down next to Chris. He curls up against his side, resting his head on his shoulder. Chris slides an arm around him, tugging him closer. “There you go,” he murmurs warmly. He runs the palm of his hand up and down Leon’s arm. “That’s better.”

Time passes; they sit in silence. Chris continues to hold Leon, and eventually he hears his breathing begin to slow. Just when he thinks he’s fallen asleep, Leon jerks awake and sits up ramrod straight.

“Hey, hey, easy,” Chris says, still keeping his arm draped loosely around Leon’s middle. “Just relax, Leon. Jesus. You’re safe.”

Leon’s body remains rigid against him. “I’m not going back to sleep.”

Chris turns then, so he can take Leon’s face into his hands. He stares into his tired eyes. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“What do you mean?” He tries to pull away from Chris.

Chris sighs. “I mean, look at you. You’re run ragged. These nightmares you’re having… they’re affecting your sleep. Every time I try to talk to you about it, you brush it off. It worked at first, but… not anymore. Not now. Please, just talk to me, Leon. I… I’m worried. About you.”

He sees Leon swallow. The man looks away, unable all of a sudden to meet Chris’ gaze. He doesn’t speak, not for a long time; just sits there with his brow furrowed. His eyes glaze over like he’s gone to a different time and place, somewhere far away, and only his body remains in the present. Chris thumbs away the tears that begin to form at the outer corners of his eyes.

“It’s okay,” Chris says softly. “Hey, it’s alright. Let’s start small. I’ve noticed that maybe the nightmares have gotten worse… they have, haven’t they?”

After a pause, Leon seems to come back to himself a little and he nods. 

“What are they about?”

Leon sighs. His breath hitches in his throat. “It’s always the same one, over and over,” he whispers. “And it feels… it feels so fucking real every time. Especially tonight. I’m back in Raccoon City, and I just…” More tears drip down his cheeks onto Chris’ fingers. He breathes shakily. “I can’t escape it, Chris. Even when I’m asleep…”

Chris wraps him in a bear hug, holding a hand to the back of his head. Leon buries his face in the crook of his neck, weeping so silently that Chris might not be able to tell he's crying if not for the way that his shoulders jerk and shake. His arms are tight, desperate around Chris’ waist. A plea.

“I've got you,” Chris murmurs. He runs his fingers through Leon's sweat-soaked hair. “You're gonna be okay. I'm gonna get you help.”

Leon just whimpers. 

By the time Leon’s shoulders still, he's sagging against Chris. Exhausted. Nearly cried himself to sleep. Chris gently leans away from him with his hands on his shoulders. “What made it worse tonight?”

Leon wipes aggressively at his eyes with the collar of his shirt. He doesn’t meet Chris’ gaze. “It just felt more… realistic. The sights, the sounds, the smells… I-I was there, I swear I was. Woke up with my heart racing like I’d just ran a marathon.”

“Well, like I said, we’re gonna get this figured out. I promise.”

To Chris’ surprise, Leon laughs. It’s small and quiet, devoid of any humor, but it’s still strange. Chris tries to make eye contact with him. “What?”

Leon shakes his head, smiling bitterly. “There’s nothing to figure out.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

His expression darkens. “There’s nothing to figure out about me. This is the way things are going to be for the rest of my life. Not a single fucking day goes by that I don’t think about… about that night, and that’s never going to change. I’ve come to accept that.”

“Don’t say things like that.”

Leon drops the smile completely. “What, the truth?”

Chris sighs. “Listen, you’re exhausted. You’re not thinking straight. Maybe we should talk about this tomorrow. Just- what can I do right now to help you sleep?”

Leon glares at him like he’s about to keep arguing, but his gaze settles on Chris’ face. His expression shifts from miserable to concerned, and a crease appears between his brows. He reaches up to brush his fingertips over Chris’ cheek. “What happened to your face?”

Shit. Chris had nearly forgotten the way that Leon had come into the waking world with his teeth bared earlier. Leon must not remember, must not have been aware. He racks his mind for an explanation; he doesn’t know how Leon would react if he tells him the truth. It feels too late in the night for that kind of guilt.

He captures Leon’s hand in his own and gently rubs his thumb against his palm. “It was a stupid mistake. Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re a horrible liar, Chris. Tell me what happened. Did someone hit you?”

“I hit my face on a cabinet door earlier. Everything’s fine.”

Leon still doesn’t look convinced. “Does it hurt?”

“No. It doesn’t. Like I said, I’m fine.” He attempts a smile, but he can’t bring himself to make it reach his eyes.

Leon stares at his face a moment longer, then he leans forward to plant a kiss on Chris’ wounded cheek. It’s tender, and sappy, and not something he’d normally do. But it makes Chris’ stomach feel warm and fluttery. “If you say so,” Leon says quietly.

Chris wraps his arms around him again. “I think it’s time to try and get some rest again.”

“Chris…”

“You need to at least try.” He brushes some of Leon’s hair out of his face. “I know you don’t want to, but… you need sleep.”

Leon closes his eyes and sighs. His voice suddenly becomes very small. “I’m just going to have another nightmare and wake up again.”

“I’ll be here,” Chris whispers. “Just like I always am. I promise.”

Defeated, Leon slumps forward and bumps his forehead against Chris’ shoulder. “Fine.”

…

Chris had managed to coax Leon back into bed, despite the other man’s protests. He holds him from behind, his arms locked around his waist, chin resting on his shoulder. He’s surprised at how affectionate Leon is allowing him to be; he’s never been a touchy-feely person, to say the least.

Now, as they lay, Leon is restless. He keeps sighing, and Chris can feel him shifting around in his arms. This goes on for several minutes before Leon releases a frustrated grunt and huffs in resignation. “I can’t do this.”

Chris releases Leon’s squirming form so that he can shift onto his back. He pats his chest. “Alright. C’mere, lie down on me.”

Leon shakes his head; Chris can tell he’s getting frustrated. His eyes are wet. “Chris, I can’t. Nothing ever works. Once it happens I don’t go back to sleep.”

“Please? I have an idea.”

“It won’t work,” he mumbles. But Chris can hear the weariness in his voice. 

He reaches for one of Leon’s hands and tugs on it. “Humor me?”

After looking at Chris for a moment, Leon sighs heavily. He crawls towards him and collapses on top of him, his body a welcome weight against Chris’. But Chris can feel just how tense Leon is, how stiff his muscles are. It isn’t often that Chris holds him like this— he assumes it’s usually too much for Leon— but he knows that can’t be the only thing keeping him from relaxing.

“Good,” Chris murmurs, bringing his hands up to tangle his fingers in Leon’s hair. “Just loosen up a little. Take some deep breaths and unclench those muscles.”

He feels Leon’s chest rising and falling against his own. Leon does this for a few moments, trying to match Chris’. Eventually he does feel a bit less tense but Chris can tell he’s not settled down enough to sleep. 

“That’s it,” he praises softly. “Now listen closely and tell me what you hear.”

A few seconds of silence. Leon’s voice is quiet, small. “Your heartbeat.”

“Good. I want you to keep listening to that. Focus on it, count the beats.” He continues to play with his hair, gently twisting the locks around his fingers. 

After a while, Leon still hasn’t said anything and Chris begins to think he finally fell asleep. But then he speaks, his voice even softer and less audible than before. “I’m so tired,” he mumbles. 

“Go to sleep. I'm right here.”

He hears the quietest of sniffles. “I can’t. I… I’m afraid.”

Chris frowns, concerned. That’s something he never thought he’d hear come out of Leon’s mouth, ever. “Of what?”

“Going back to sleep,” he whispers tearfully. “I’m going to have the- the nightmare again, I know I will, Chris…”

The tone of his voice— desperate but exhausted at the same time—  hurts Chris’ heart. He stops playing with his hair to wrap his arms around him and squeeze him gently. He can feel his heart racing against his own chest. “Oh, Lee…”

He starts to cry again, shuddering against Chris. Only this time he isn’t as quiet. Ugly, choked noises come from him as he weeps, muffled by Chris’ t-shirt. His tears and snot soak through the fabric, but Chris couldn’t care less. He just holds him through the storm, rubbing his palm up and down Leon’s spine. He doesn’t know how long it goes on for. All he knows is that tonight he’s experienced a lot of firsts— one being hearing Leon actually cry. 

Eventually his sobs soften to just a tremble in his breathing. Chris continues holding him, rubbing his back, willing his weary soul to rest. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” Leon whispers hoarsely. “I want… I want to be able to sleep. To rest.”

Chris’ throat tightens. “You can. I promise you can.”

Leon yawns. “No,” he mumbles simply.

Chris doesn’t miss how much quieter Leon sounds, the overwhelming weariness in his voice. He sounds muted almost. But he decides not to call attention to it, just continues trying to comfort him using the gentlest tone he can muster. “Why not?”

“Because-“ Another yawn. “Because I have… nightmares.”

“Well, I think you can sleep,” Chris murmurs, playing gently with his hair again. “And I don’t think you’ll have any more nightmares tonight. In fact, I know you won’t. I can feel it.”

Leon answers with a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat. 

They lie there a moment, and Chris listens as Leon’s breathing begins to slow. He continues stroking Leon’s hair, holding him, comforting him. 

“Goodnight, Leon.”

“G’night,” he breathes. Chris can hardly hear him he’s so quiet.

The conversation lulls into silence. Leon goes completely still against Chris— he’s cried himself to sleep.

And, just like Chris had predicted, Leon doesn’t wake until morning.

[xkleipsis]

High and Low

Pt.1 arranged marriage

Norihisa Hyuga x f.reader

P.1 P.2 P.3

(My first time writing on tumblr, and 1st time doing such trope so bear w me pls as this is kinda like a pilot🫶)

—————————————————————————

It was thundering by the time I finally had landed in Japan, luckily the flight wasn’t delayed and neither there were any issues of sort. After collecting by suitcases, which didn’t contain much as i plan on buying more here, i got a cab and showed the driver the address.

As i sat back to relax, or at least attempt to, i try to recall the trouble i got myself into. Hadn’t I tried to purposefully irritate the elders, they wouldn’t have convinced my parents into this marriage; a marriage with a crazy guy who sought revenge and had recently got out of jail. Apparently he also isn’t keen to this idea. Many aren’t, sure having someone in the family who runs a gang its beneficial, considering the elders want to expend their business here in japan, but, my parents are against this, strangely enough most of my relatives are too, and probably is so this main of a ex-convict.

But am i against it? I asked myself this multiple times and everytine i cant decide. If i was really against it then i would’ve ran away, frankly speaking its very easy, but i guess i have nothing to lose. No matter what, had i brought another guy stating he was the love of my live, these elders would’ve still complained unless the poor boy would’ve brought them anything useful for status and power and more nonsense.

I just hope he’s decent. No, he has to at least have a nice personality. Bad looks? I can manage, i can simply not wear glasses around the house, having a negative 5 eyesight can be handy. But he cant have a shit personality, i cant risk my blood pressure.

I look outside the window as it rains, while the car drives at a reasonable speed, and before i knew it, i was here. Outside the main meet up place of his gang, I should’ve at least be given the actual address, no? As i thank the driver i notice a look of unease in his eyes, and shit i dont blame him, one might even think we’re in a middle of the forest from how it looked.

After taking my suitcase i start to head in the old styled house, i mean the door was open.. as i entered i could feel weird looks from men, most of the wearing red jackets and chains, until i asked one of them if they could bring me to hyuga, and without saying much, he led the way, as if he was waiting for me.

I was brought to another room, much quieter, there sat a man who looked like had been smoking, wearing a red jacket over his shoulder and golden chained hanging from his neck. He looked me up and down before i spoke, ‘so? You are, i believe my fiancé??”

He just stared at me before replying “yeah” in a obvious rude tone before getting up and walking towards me. Maybe because i was tired from the flight, perhaps even jet-lagged but i was already trying to study his looks.

“Lets get something clear from the beginning, im not interested in you or in such things. You got problems? Dont bother me with them. Do not get involved in any of my business and dont irritate me at all” he says, coldly? Nah, more like in a commanding tone.

I take a deep breath, before forcing a smile “sure, i shall not bother his highness with any trivial matters” a hint of sarcasm in my tone, before adding in “so where will i be staying?” I ask.

“At my house, guest room” he replies, “here?” As i glance around the place, now im no spoiled daughter but- “do you think i live here?” He raises an eyebrow, irritated as i shrugs my shoulders after looking him from head to toe. He scoffs “I have main house, my men will drive you there” he replies before leaving the room as if somewhere to be, while one of his men tells me to follow him.

(If anyone has any suggestions you think i can improve on lmk)

[thewisaaaaad]

GOOD EVENING

i changed my mind im releasing this now >:)

i finally got to the cliffhanger

AND NOW Hypnos is offered a choice.

I told you it would be fine :)

...if Hypnos can bear to go on, after all that has happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hypnos opened their eyes to darkness.

Their whole body ached, every part of them felt like it had been run over by a carriage. their face was sticky with blood and Ichor, and they couldn't remember why. Why do they hurt? Was Narinder playing with the kits again? Maybe they should find the fox, if he's here...

Then the events of the last few years started to flow back in. Shamura and their second betrayal, the torture, the rescue by Leshy's agents, the hasty escape into the sea, Kallamars ministrations, the training in curses, dodging and healing, the plan...

and how that plan went so horribly, horribly wrong.

fresh, warm blood, mortal blood, streamed down their face.

Narinder was probably playing with the twins. in the worst possible way. And it was all their fault.

Hypnos scrubbed their face with their forearm, no matter how it hurt, and took a look around themselves. It looked like the void, but it lacked the warmth they remembered it having when they were with the fox.

How long had it been since they last saw the fox? Were they worried?

Hypnos doubted it. Who would worry about an oath-breaker like them, anyway?

So this must be it. This is the fading of souls that happens to those who die in the after. the place beyond death.

Hypnos was surprised that they had died so soon. Shamura- no, the Purple Crown had been shure to You are not yet dead, child.

Hypnos opened their eyes, searching for the voice echoing in their head. Something was behind them, but the puppet struggled to turn around to get a look at it, feeling like they were floating with no anchors to steady themselves. The voice, to its credit, did not laugh at the lambs flailing, only letting the feeling of bemusement seep into the lambs mind.

Hypnos, for their part, felt no amusement at all. especially when they saw what the voice belonged to.

An eye. sitting in the darkness, floating just out of reach, at a massive scale. It seemed sideways, as if it was laying down, but as the false lamb slowly rotated in the void, the eye rotated with them, continuing to lay sideways to them. It was cream colored, with clouds of other bright colors danced at the edges, like a hidden aurora borealis.

But the lamb knew of eyes like this one. It belonged to a crown.

You merely dream. The voice sounded elderly, tired. A fine disguise for a horrible creature.

"What do you want!?" The lamb shouted, after staring at it with barely concealed hatred failed to elicit answers. Actually, it probably wasn't concealed at all.

The crown just blinked slowly at them, before finally responding.

Child, I have come to grant you a chance. a chance to save "I AM NOT BECOMING YOUR BEARER, PARASITE!" The lamb interrupted, swinging their arms down in impertinent rage.

The crown waited patiently for the lamb to catch their breath, seeming almost... sad.

the gall...

I know you have met the sins. I apologies that my compatriots were unable to protect their bearers.

This was... not what the lamb expected, but they kept their guard up-

I know you think us vile, child, and not without reason. but consider this: that we may not be the infection, but instead are infected ourselves by Sin.

All the wind had been taken out of out of Hypnos's sails at this point, as curiosity won out over caution. "what do you mean, 'possessed by sin'? I had been under the impression that the crowns controlled sin, using it to further their power. Or was that a lie too!?" Hypnos shouted, a bit of their righteous rage returning to them.

It was not a falsehood, child, but it was not the full truth either. We crowns were made to control Sins, yes, but as with all things, we are imperfect. Each of us has a Sin we are vulnerable to.

For War and Wisdom, it is Envy.

Chaos and Order, Their enemy is Wrath.

Plague and Cure's poison is Sloth.

Feast and Famine fell to Gluttony.

And of course, death must kneel to pride.

But even the Sins of Gods can be purified by another crown.

The lamb considers this. They were given an enemy. something that could be fought, something that could be solved.

there was only two questions left to ask.

"whats your sin? Your weakness?"

I cannot speak its name, lest I invite it to roost within me.

"...what do you get out of this?"

I get the chance to exist again, and serve a bearer once more.

A light began to shine from behind the crown, revealing its shape. It was pointed, resembling a mytre, the same kind of hats the followers used to command the refineries back at Kallamar's temple. The eye rested in the center, indeed set sideways.

they could save Kallamar. They could save the others.

they could save Narinder, and keep their promises.

the question was, did they trust it?

Promised liberator of The One Who Waits, will you take me, the crown of sleep and wake, as your crown, and command dreams and nightmares as you wish

to keep the promises you made?

ACCEPT ⟻⤛⦿ REFUSE

[prodigal-explorer]

so as someone who is only on chapter one of omori and is obsessed with it here are my thoughts as a new member of the fandom

bear in mind that i haven’t finished the game. i only just got to that one creepy forest place? like the one after the spiders? please don’t spoil!!

but spoilers for everything before that below

1) I HATE BASIL. he’s such a stupid little punk. “uwu im so smol and helpless and i always get bullied and i’m so sweet and innocent” I JUST KNOW THAT FUCKER IS HIDING SOMETHING. everytime i end back in that stupid white room it’s because HES DOING SOME SUSSY SHIT. i also just hate him and everything about him and i know for a damn fact that he’s hiding something horrible behind that sweet little smile and he thinks he’s tricking me but he’s NOT I KNOW HIS GAME.

anyway.

2) i literally cannot decide on a favorite character. i have a least favorite, that’s pretty obvious, but when it comes to a favorite im torn. i LOVE omori, aubrey, kel, and hero all the same! i love mari too but i’m a little salty against her because all her hints for the quests are severely unhelpful 😭 but i still love her tho. i just love the main four so so much and i physically cant choose who i like better. poor little aubrey seems so scared and alone when she has the pink hair and she’s so kind in the little space world thing. hero is a sweetheart and i can’t wait to meet him in the colorful world where i’m moving or whatever. and kel is literally so me 😂 it’s not even funny he just does whatever the fuck he wants and that deserves some respect on his name. and omori is a kickass main character who has a cool thing going for him. but these four characters are sooo well crafted and i love how they work together! it’s a great dynamic balance!

3) i’m either a really bad gamer or the game is super long. i finished the prologue in like seven hours. it took SO LONG. i’m not used to indie games taking that long to play considering that i got through all of undertale in like 10-12 hours my first time. it’s awesome! i love finding all the secrets and talking to all the npcs but DAMNNN.

4) this game has so. much. detail. it’s insane. like the sheer amount of mini games and tiny pockets of lore. it’s like higher than undertale level and i don’t mean to keep going back to undertale but i see a lot of similarities in the game style. i also totally got sucked into playing like 30 rounds of blackjack on omoris computer. it was cool af.

5) the fighting mechanics are super hard. maybe i just suck at strategy but i am so bad at the fights that i just run away whenever i have the opportunity 😭 it’s a problem. i also have no clue how the happy sad angry shit works, i just make omori sad so stab has an attack boost and make aubrey angry so headbutt has an attack boost but other than that i don’t really use it at all and i don’t understand it. maybe that’s why it took me literally 10 tries to get past space ex boyfriend? it’s really fun i just think it’s supposed to be easier than it is and i just missed a memo on strategy.

6) i really love the message so far. the way that mental health is portrayed as something that’s a never ending journey. omori doesn’t just breathe and then everything’s okay, the game highlights realistic coping strategies and makes things like depression, anxiety, and phobias to understandable for any audience through a very creative medium: an indie video game. it’s genius. and i just love how it’s been approached so far, it’s very inspiring!

7) i’m terrified that this fandom is gonna make me mad, i swear to god if i just walk in and see a bunch of basil stan’s i’m turning and walking back out 💀 i mean okay maybe i’ll like basil better later but chances for that seem very low right now. my sister told me that apparently he went through some trauma thing? womp womp don’t care he’s an annoying mf who keeps taking me back to that boring white room where i stab myself, he’s a party pooper and i want a tornado to blow his dumb little flower house down.

[ragzonacamrencruise]

hiii ex-camren shipper, but i still believe tbh. i listened to a couple songs off mila's new album (B.O.A.T and june gloom) both are kinda obvious camren songs to me. a decade long situationship is insane honestly, but they are both lover girls so i see them doing this. i think they've outgrown each other, but what they had was very formative and impactful so they aren't entirely sure how to let go. this is atleast my take on what camila wrote in these songs, being the most lyrically interesting ones off the album.

hello anon!

tbh, those two songs are the ones which DO have meaningful lyrics. at least that's what i think. idk abt others.

after listening to her first 3 albums (4, if you consider the cinderella one an album), this one's all over the place. i get that she's experimenting with new things and that's great. production wise, i'd say there're a lotta sounds that could've been included and a lotta sounds that coulda been eliminated.

coming to the lyrical part, we all know mila's a lyrical genius. she's literally the one who wrote, "see me like breath in the cold" and "i wanna dive in, what a divine moment". but this is not the same person, cuz, "im a dog, woof woof" ain't doing it for me.

"you'd never give me peace of mind, so i had to give it to myself" is not the same as "loving you was sunshine, safe and sound, a steady place to let down my defenses. but loving you had consequences"

i feel like mila's still in the denial stage, cuz denial makes u do crazy stuff. a friend of mine was in denial of her father's death due to alcoholism and she was straight up blaming witchcraft.

deep down i know that they're not together anymore. but that doesn't mean that i can't hope anymore. they're the one thing that made me anchor myself during my darkest days and i'll never let them go. mila can experiment all she wants but i know there's still the lyrical genius, emotionally fuked up mila hiding somewhere deep down.

i can only hope she'll be able to bring that side out of her. and yes anon, their relationship was very impactful. i mean, mila couldn't help but write 2 full albums and dedicate it to L. it's uncanny how much she couldn't get L out of her system. it's exactly how our mother taylor swift says, sometimes you can't help but write 2 whole albums about one person and sometimes, even if you've spent years with them, you won't even write a sentence about another.

it's just how creativity works.

but who knows?? maybe we're all wrong and maybe they both are well and truly over each other. i mean, we're talking abt stuff that happened when they were 16yrs old to 20yrs old. i'm not even the same person i was an year ago.

change is to be expected. i, specifically, am unable to digest this drastic change in mila cuz, well, i simply cannot bear to watch my baby mila grow up. i mean . . . she's cursing in songs more often now? my baby mila would never do that. but she's not a baby anymore and that's what angers (read as: saddens) me the most.

i'm just hoping for something just a little bit better, at this point, so that my heart gets consolation with a glimpse of that little part of mila who wrote 2 full masterpieces.

[scribespirare]

if you still do requests for House… something Hilson with Wilson’s possessive streak popping up, maybe in public?

oh man i haven't done hilson in a while thank u for requesting them!! hopefully im not too rusty w/ them

“Do you know every waitress in the city?”

House glances up from the menu in front of him, and then back at the retreating figure of their waitress. Sarah, apparently, though he’s always known her as Caramel. She looks a lot different with so much clothing on and no heels.

“Only the ones who moonlight as strippers,” House replies. The look Wilson gives him is unamused at best and House raises an eyebrow at him. “What, it’s not my fault we happen to pick restaurants where my favorites work.”

Turning back to his menu, House ignores Wilson’s stony silence. Honestly, the man gets his panties in such a twist sometimes and not even for a good reason. Caramel barely even recognized him; House is sure he looks a lot different too when not cast in low lighting and considerably drunk. And just because two other waitresses have recognized him in the past month, and he them, doesn’t mean anything.

Caramel, sorry Sarah, comes back a few minutes later for their orders. Wilson’s is clipped and terse, about as rude as he ever manages to be to staff. House’s is friendlier and is followed by a question about how Sarah is doing. She immediately brightens up and launches into a story about how the medical advice he’d given her one night (he can’t remember it but even black out he knows his shit) had helped her pass a class for her nursing degree.

House is just about to remind her that she’s got a job to do actually when Wilson, smiling pleasantly, says, “I’m sorry, something has come up, you can cancel that order.” Then he stands, grabs House by the arm, and very clearly indicates that they should leave.

“Oh,” says a surprised Sarah. “Sure. I’ll see you later I guess?”

“You won’t,” Wilson says with confidence.

And House…well it’s not like Wilson could drag him out of here by force. House could very easily refuse to play this little game of jealousy if he wanted to. But he’s also intrigued and so grabs his cane and stands. Instead of being hauled away immediately like he’s expecting, Wilson instead grabs House by the collar and brings him in for a kiss. More than a peck, but not quite long enough for House to get his bearings and make a show of it, purely to taunt Wilson with later.

With that little public display accomplished, Wilson does indeed tug House out of the restaurant, House giving a little wave to a flustered Sarah as they go.

They pause outside, the air cold enough to fog their breaths, to pull on jackets that were thrown over arms in their haste.

“You’re ridiculous,” House says, shifting his cane from one hand to the other.

“I know,” is Wilson’s clipped response.

“And also you owe me dinner.”

“I know.”

“Did I say you were ridiculous? Because you are. Who the hell gets jealous over a stripper?”

“I do, apparently,” Wilson grinds out. “Especially when they’re flirting with you right in front of me.”

“There was not nearly enough cleavage present for that to be considered flirting,” House says with gravitas. Then, because he’s a dick, “You should give me another kiss, I think she’s still watching.”

It’s meant as a joke but Wilson rounds on him, grabs his face in two hands, and kisses him soundly. This time it’s a real kiss, and it drags on and on until House can’t remember why he’d suggested it in the first place, or even that he’d only suggested it in jest. Christ, but Wilson can kiss.

When they finally part House has to take a moment to regather his thoughts. Wilson looks rather smug about it too, the jealous dick.

“You still owe me dinner,” House says the moment his thoughts clear. Wilson’s smug look fades and is followed by an eye roll.

“I’ll buy you McDonald’s. Get in the damn car.”

[typ1calaizetsu-lover]

can you write a yandere Zohakuten x reader please? Im not sure if you need a plot but if you do, what about reader being a young demon slayer and stumbling upon Zohakuten but instead of killing them he takes an obsessive interest in them? Thank you have a good day/night!

(AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

thank you so much for requesting this! I've been considering on making one but this is SO much better!

I'll make sure it meets to your standards, anon! god i can tell this is gonna be longggggg)

TW: sexual themes (?), obsessive behavior, kidnapping, yandere act.

running.

you remembered running and running.

you remembered running because you could sense danger from this way. you remembered the extreme scent of danger coming from the forest.

you remembered tripping on a big rock in the way in the midst of running to the sign of death.

you remembered trying to get up, only to meet gold, narrowed eyes watching your every move.

you remembered freezing at the sight of the startling, glowing, gold eyes.

a boy- no, a demon, about your height, with black hair that reached upward in several directions, his skin was brown, and he bore a fierce scowl in his face. his ears were also pointed.

you also remembered noticing his muscles and his biceps through his clothes.

if revealing his belly and covering the top with a gold plate armor counted as clothing.

you remembered the menacing aura that radiated the demon, his eyes had the kanji, "hatred", in them.

you remembered the demon boy crouching down, his right knee against the dirt, his left knee up, and his elbow on his left thigh.

you remembered his face inches within yours, you remembered feeling his warmth breath graze on your skin.

you remembered trembling and shivering slightly when he leaned closer to your face, so close, your nose and his was touching.

it almost seemed like he wanted to smell you.

taste you even.

you remembered you worriedly bit your lip, daring not to say anything. your grip on your katana tightened to the point your knuckles was turning pale.

he must've noticed, because he had grabbed your sword and tossed it behind him.

you remembered whimpering anxiously.

the fear stretched into your face must've pleased him, because he had cupped your chin in his fingers.

you remembered your heart pounded and you felt like passing out.

his aura was so strong. it was painful, like it was trying to swell your heart, or it tried to burn every single bone in your body.

you remembered whimpering even more in pain as you tried to move your arms, but it turned out your body went numb.

"weak, pathetic. what is the point of joining the demon slaying corps when you can't even bear to fight one? Or wield a katana, no less?"

he spoke harshly, moving your chin to the left so he could inspect your cheekbones.

"don't bother fighting me, you'll end up dead. and i don't want that, yet."

the way he spoke.. it almost sounded like a purr or a coo..

he lifted up his other hand, the nail of his index finger pressed against your soft and delicate skin, then sliced through it.

you remembered gasping in pain, and you wished you hadn't.

his gold orbs moved to look at your desperate state, then 'tsked'.

the perfect cut of your cheek was satisfying for him.

the way the red ooze went down your cheek slowly, the way you hissed and breathed in pain and silence, the way your chest heaved in and out..

it made him crazy...

you remembered he opened his mouth to reveal a pair of sharp fangs in the front, his tongue reaching out..

his tongue met your skin, trailing it on the cut, licking all the blood away.

his mouth made a fascinated 'pop', and then his eyes moved back to yours, his head traveled closer yours, his lips inches from yours...

"you belong to me now. you're mine."

his words faded slowly, you remembered your eyes drooped, everything blackening out...

chained in silver, gagged by the mouth, your perfect build was tied together.

your hands were tied up on the wall, but your legs weren't chained.

at least, maybe not yet.

you weren't sure whether he'd come back, but you hoped he didn't.

you needed to get out of here. as quick and silent as possible.

you whimpered and groaned as you tried to hitch the chains from the wall.

your body still felt the same numbness from earlier, and you realized your clothes had been slightly torn. had that demon tore it off while you slept? did he do something to you?!

you shuddered.

for a few minutes, you started to think of how cute he kind of looked, a slight pink tint crept into your cheeks.

you wondered what was wrong with yourself.

"ah, you're awake, my love."

the familiar, deep voice of the demon startled you completely.

"spread your legs out for me, won't you, lovely?"

your eyes traveled to the boy in front of you, who had entered your cell quietly as possible.

still frightened, you didn't move.

"tsk tsk tsk, humans have become worthless these days. fine, i will do it myself. but next time, mortal,"

the demon crouched down to part your legs with brute strength.

"you will do everything i say. understood?"

you whimpered again, and then nodded your head.

the demon got closer to your face, and when he had raised his hand (with those nasty crusty nails), he cupped your cheek to remove the gag wrapped around you face, and then placed his lips onto yours.

your eyes widened.

you could feel him tasting you. his teeth slightly biting your tongue.

you stifled a moan, shuffling your body.

it almost felt like he was putting more pressure into your body by just kissing you.

his hand was running up against your thigh, near your crotch, and you almost flinched. his hand then ran up to your sides, then caressed it.

with so much force.

you couldn't handle it, it almost felt like eating and you wanted to stop, but you couldn't.

your belly hurt, your legs and arms hurt.

you muffled a sort of scream or groan of pain, and the demon opened its eyes at you.

"what is wrong, lovely?"

the demon asked in an unusual, tone of care and kindness.

well it sounded like it.

"i-.."

you gasped out, your chest heaving in and out.

the demon placed his chin between your breasts, waiting for you patiently like a stray.

"er-... n- nothing.. it's just-"

"you didn't expect a demon like me to do that?"

he smirked, standing up now.

"you are probably so hungry, lovely, humans like you are delicate, i wouldn't want you to die.."

he places one last kiss in your lips and then proceeded to exit your cell, leaving you alone again.

you were really gonna stay here for a long time...

bubbles of tears formed in your eyes.

sorry, master kagaya, i didn't want to be here..

\\ lol this was really fun to write! apologies if it's short!! //