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gremlingottoosilly · 9 months

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[If you need to be mean] chapter 2

Chapter 1

Konig decided to meet his new favorite civilian at the cafe you work at. Unfortunately for both of you, you're both socially awkward. TW: Konig being a huge pervert, Canon-Typical violence, Dub-Con, Innocence kink, Age difference(Konig in his yearly 40, Reader in young 20)

Pairing: Konig x fem!Reader Tags: Fluff, Power Imbalance, Hurt/Comfort, Size Kink, Possessive Konig, Yandere Konig, Creepy scary stalker Konig, written mostly from Konig's perspective

— Did something good happen, colonel? You are practically shining.

Horangi always had this special ability of telling nonsense with the most serious face and deep voice. He also was the only one in his unit to ever be brave enough to joke with his superior – even though all the other KorTac members usually don’t risk their asses to be put on fire list because of some silly joke. He is the closest König has to a friend – and it’s kinda sad, actually, that a broken gambling addict is the only person who can read his emotions so well, even with his hood and permanently sour expression.

But something good did happen – you happen, of course.

He spend a few days of self-reflecting, drinking and punching training manekens in the gym, trying so fucking hard to put your adorable civillian face out of his mind. You were out of sight alright, but the way your features would get distorted into something even more adorable every time he closed his eyes, was concerning. He dealt with those little obsessions before – nothing that a few good rounds of jerking off until he would feel nothing but emptiness and hatred to himself couldn’t handle. He surely can’t fall that deep down, he only saw you for like an hour and it was literally three days ago!

— I read your reports about the last terrorist encounter. Good job, Horangi.

— And I heard about that civilian girl you pulled, sir. Thought we are bringing those to the police, not their houses.

— I had to make sure she wasn't a spy.

— And she wasn’t?

König thinks – would be far easier if he would have an official, legal reason to keep you locked up on the base without the right to come out. Would be far easier for him to just think about you as an enemy, so he would have normal reasons for thinking about you constantly, and not feeling guilty. It’s normal to think so much about your enemies – this is what keeps you alive on the field, if you can determine their shortcomings early and make sure that you can fight them. He would love having you as an enemy – it would at least give him some info before starting obsession over little ol’ you.

— No.

— That would give us at least some lead to the terrorist cell. Feels like all locals are protecting them from it.

— I understand your frustration. But at least they are not cutting our pay.

— We might as well rebel if they’d try to.

— We are not stepping on terrorist’s route.

— I was joking, sir. Only thing that’s left here except for card games.

Horangi hates stationing in this country as much as König is – and, given that he is a sergeant and doesn’t have as much rank expectations, can talk about this openly. This operation is perfect except for the lack of intel, lack of action and lack of basically anything to do – the local forces are handling minor threats, while mercs here are mostly to show off how the government has money to hire them. KorTac would pay for actually having to fight some bad guys around here – but the bigger ones are hiding and lower ones are already getting tracked down by the local military.

The only interesting thing to do, seemingly, is to obsess over local girls – and König thought he is better than this.

But he isn’t losing sleep over thinking about how scared and fragile you looked that night. Especially not even going to think about how adorable your little pout was, and the way your hands were trembling. He definitely doesn't want to know every tiny detail about your life, what you like and what you hate, what is your favorite position in bed and the color of underwear you are currently wearing – or even if you are wearing one. And he isn’t some sort of creep that would spend an obnoxiously long amount of time registering on social media – god, he is too old for this shit, it literally feels even more humiliating than his whole school experience – just so he can find your accounts and get instant masturbation material.

You really shouldn’t post so much half-naked photos – yes, this is a reel from your last summer vacation and yes, this swimsuit looks beautiful on you, but have you ever considered that some creep(not someone like him, he is palming himself very respectfully) would use those photos as a way to get themself off? Terrible, scary, he can’t wait for you to post some new photos – maybe in something that he would buy you, way skimpier and more expensive, so he could protect you from those people.

He looks at your posts about work – and he hates this stupid blue bird app because it never works for him, always filled with some assholes who are trying to argue with literally everyone, and the way he can’t even see your posts properly because of the weird ads. No, he doesn’t need a “Thing that would make your dick longer” he literally has a problem with making it smaller. No, he doesn’t need some dumb T-shirt even though he kinda reflects with the funny pun about pokemons and would love to wear something containing his major interest even though it would look ridiculous on a 6 '10 killing machine.

But König reads all of your short posts about the way you hate working in customer service, and his hand is almost slipping to the ad about wedding rings. You hate your job, he hates his – practically soulmates, even though he doesn’t really hate the killing part of his employment, he just doesn’t want to be in charge of people and making them steal the fun of destroying. He would, however, agree to get as many ranks as possible if that would mean providing for you. If that would allow him to be by your side and listen to your sweet voice, he would agree for the next promotion even if higher ups would want him to make some PR wawes and become a fucking fashion model.

But he is completely sane about you. Totally normal. Absolutely nothing is wrong with him when he can’t even think about visiting you in real life, but he leaves a like on every of your posts in every social media he has – you have terrible online safety habits by the way, he can already see what the inside of your apartment looks like, your place of work from three different angles, and how the front door of your apartment is held together by a very easy to destroy lock. He could snatch it in one deliberate kick, not even speaking about just shooting it. Not like he would need to, he wants you to be with him willingly. Or, at least, don’t fight him too much in case he would actually lose his patience and do something drastic.

It has already been three days and he feels like he is going crazy. He had those things before, overthinking about tiniest details in someone he never truly knew, but even then he’d understand that he can’t be with them – it could be his school crushes that were, ironically, crushed because of his anxiety. It might be some casual flings with his fellow soldiers that would either get killed in the field or never happen because it would be fraternization. Some random people he saw at the airport and already imagined life with multiple kids and a dog. He always knew he had a problem – but it was never like this before. Never dangerous.

The problem is – he knows that he can have you.

Maybe not in a traditional way, he doubts that you would just marry him on the spot, but he can court you at least. He can shower you with gifts or ridiculous tips at your job, he can just snatch you away and leave you as his perfect little bedmate. He can make his men kidnap you, and while it is inhumane and you don’t deserve this, he would calm you down – and then have his happily ever after.

He knows that he can have you – and it drives him crazy. He could stop himself previously, when he didn’t have anything for himself to be considered desirable – but now, with his rank and all the new opportunities and money it brings, he can’t stop but fantasize.

You under him, panting and blushing, lips puffy from kisses, skin glazed from sweat and marked with his teeth.

You under him, so wonderfully tight, not letting him go even for an inch – and you are perfectly taking him, no matter how gigantic he is.

You under him, smiling, cuddling after a long night – every night after a mission, where he could spend his free time deep in your body, listening to your melodic moans and little whines.

You under…

— Can I…can I take your order, sir?

He is a disgusting human being because lives of thousand people are on a stake, he would just doom them all if he wouldn’t find those terrorists soon – and he wastes time on sitting in this tiny ass cafe, trying to place himself on the small seat while being all too nervous to just talk to you. Like a person. Of course he had to go to your shift – he already determined which days you were working because it increased the number of angry “I hate my job and want to kill my manager” posts on that dumb social media, and he knows which hours you work at – of course it’s almost night time, the closing shift, because he simply can’t have himself not worry about you.

He is a creep, weirdo and all that words in a song that he’s been blasting in his tiny headphones all of these days because he can smell the sweetness of your perfume and the way you are munching on the pen you are using to write his order. Oh, yes, order. He is supposed to order something, he can’t just give you money for how adorable you look in that white apron – even though you are absolutely stunning and should get money.

God, he would murder everyone in this building just for them to never look at your legs again.

God, he would bury himself between them if only you’d allow him to.

— Sir, is everything okay?

He served in the military for far longer that you lived, probably. Most of his life, he got used to being referred to as something honorable, or referring to other people like that – and he never thought that just being referred to as “sir” would make his dick twitch in his pants. He crosses his legs, hoping not to get too imposing – he already towers over the tiny table like a giant he is, barely even fitting in it. He thinks he has a healthy amount of self-control – then he looks at you again, and thanks all the gods he knows for the mask he is wearing – at least under the black surgeon piece and dark glasses you won’t really see his blush. Or that little twitching in his eyes that is indicating danger.

— Sorry, I…can I, um, have a coffee? Bitte…please, I mean.

He hates how nervous he is – like high school again, asking his crush out just to be ridiculed. But you look perfect like this – controlled environment, you can’t just laugh at him and say that he is a weird nerd from another class, you have a manager who is controlling of such behavior. He would never tell on you, of course, he wants you to be happy, even if this job makes you the most miserable – even though he kinda thinks of you as a weak for this, his job literally involves killing people and he doesn't argue that much!

But you giggle – sweet, innocent sound, it drives him crazy even more than he previously was. It doesn’t feel like those girls at school – yes, he still can’t let that go, even though his therapist says he has to – and he loses all control at how beautiful you sound. He wants to take you away right now, pay you for your workplace however you get them, and just use you as he wants – no matter how socially unacceptable. He protects this country, he has the right for a little prize, right? No, this would be terrible, he shouldn’t just harass sweet little civilians like you, he should…

— What type of coffee, sir? Do you want some dessert?

This is a typical question, he was at cafes and coffee shops a thousand times but, for some reason, it feels almost like you are teasing him. You bite the end of your pen with those adorable teeth of yours – he wants to feel it on his fingers, he wants you to leave bite marks all over his body as a sign of marking him as yours. He smiles under his mask, hoping that you would somehow feel it – how happy you make him feel, how hard it’s for him not to lose control.

— No. Just coffee.

— Sugar?

He would like some sugar, of course – but the one he wants is probably not for sale, even though that adorable white apron of yours makes you look like a candy. He would love to unwrap you from those silly clothes and devour what belongs to him for the right of protector, but he knows how scared you might be. He is not a good person, he killed more people that he could count – countless fathers, sons, mothers, he shouldn’t even think about having a right for a family of his own after all of this. He is not a good person and his moral code changes with every kill he gets – but for hell sake, he wants to be nice with you. You deserve it, he knows. More than he is, for sure.

König doesn’t really like sugary stuff, it was always too childish, made him too energetic, disrupted his very peculiar way of eating things. Sweets makes him only more hungry, makes him crave more, and he wants to be as serious as possible – so he usually drinks and eats stuff that is no tastier than a pile of dry sand. But he responds before he can think, too focused on that shiny lipgloss you have on your lips. He would lick and bite it all – soon, he hopes.

— Ja. Thank you.

— Good choice, sir.

Your lips are curling into a small, shy smile and he likes sugar now. He isn’t sure if you are telling everyone that their order is a good choice, maybe you just want to get more tips, but he hopes that maybe, he is special. Maybe there is something nice happening to him after all. A small reward for not being a total monster on the last mission he had, even though he could. He can’t do anything but to stare at you, his only saving grace is the dark lenses of his glasses – he can’t wear his hood in civil situations, unfortunately, people would stare, stare, stare and that would make him want to pull their eyes out.

But you smile and he smiles also, even if you can’t see it. He is looking at your legs and, fuck, he is a disgusting old creature that preys upon younger women because he never had a positive experience before. He is a total creep and a monster that should be put down already – but he stares at your legs under that waitress dress, and he would pay your manager a few thousand Euros to cut the length of your skirt in half.

Then he sees all the others looking at you the same way – old people, young people, there aren’t a lot of guests at this time in the evening, most people are afraid of going into public places while the war on terrorism is going on. There aren’t a lot of people while it’s almost closing time, but he doesn't even want to think about all the other men looking at you like this. Devouring you with their eyes, probably leaving sleazy comments as you go through the small cafe, just as overworked as your other coworkers. He wants to take you from here.

You don’t deserve people looking at you like you aren’t even a person – only he can look at you respectfully, stripping you with his eyes. He can be soft for you, can be perfect – if you would just let him.

König doesn’t want to be a creep around you, but he was looking at your legs for five minutes already, picturing the way your body would look under all of these clothes, and his cock gets painfully hard. He thanks himself for wearing normal, baggy pants, not something tighter – at least his embarrassment is completely covered by his clothes.

— Here is your coffee. Anything else?

You look nervous, of course – but he seems way softer than he was a couple days ago, at night. The absence of his creepy mask is obviously helping, and because he is sitting, you don’t have to tilt your head too high, causing your neck to stretch uncomfortably. He looks awkwards, like a big dog that still tries to fit into his old bed, and it causes you to smile a little bit more. You made sure to place a couple of sugar cubes on the plate, so he could decide for himself, if he wants to use them all – but the mere thought of that giant of a man, a colonel, hardened soldier liking something silly and sweet is making you giggle.

He looks way softer than he was that night, and you can almost forget about how scared you were – how you were thinking that this would be the end for you, that one, overthinking part of your mind already making up the scenarios of getting martial lawed because of the broken curfew. You can even see his hair – and fight the urge to touch it a little. He is still who-knows-how-old and still a military presence in your peaceful country.

You still want to ruffle his hair.

He still wants to take your clothes off and make you his.

— Nein, thank you.

He stares at the cup for a good few seconds – if he wants to drink, he needs to actually take it off. He has many scars on his face, and his mouth sometimes feels like it has more dead skin than alive one – he doesn’t want to attract attention. Some people are already staring at his badge and how awkward a giant man like him looking in that cozy, tiny place – but he also wants you to see how much pain he can withstand without getting killed. How he can protect you from anything because there literally isn’t anything he won’t do for you. You would appreciate a man with scars, it’s a sign of bravery, right?

Then he thinks about all the times he would take off his mask and how people around him would look at him – with pity, with fear, with disgust sometimes even though he is certain that his face isn’t as deformed as some other parts of his body. He even almost managed to grow a beard once! Then he had to scrub it all off because hair was growing in very uneven patches and he looked like something crawled on his chin and died.

König fought in countless battles, spent his youth training to be the best killer possible, took part in many major conflicts and killed hundreds of people while feeling nothing but recoil. He isn’t afraid of anything – except for talking to people sometimes, maybe, and even now he is trying to work on it with his therapist, instead of just killing anyone who looks at him funny. He isn’t afraid of the dark, of death, of uncertainty in his life. But he is afraid of you looking at him unmasked and thinking that you, in fact, find him disgusting.

You almost want to take your time to look at what he will do – is he going to take off his mask? Is he going to drink right through the fabric? You have too much work to just stay at his table and stare, even if you want to – but you are trying to give him occasional glances as he just…sits at his table. Not even moving, just staring at the cup and sometimes moving his head to look at you – or just ornaments at the wall behind you. Yes, probably the ornament.

König sits at the table and, well, he doesn’t even want to drink his coffee because just looking at the way your ass sways under that terribly short skirt is enough to set him on fire. He wants to take you home with him – even though his home is all the way up in Austria. He would take you, you probably wouldn’t even be mad at you – you could be a perfect little family. He already waited too long to start one, never finding anyone who would win his heart for a long run but he was sure that this three-days-obsession would last long. He isn’t sure, however, if he likes it or not.

He ended up not drinking at all – he knows that he can’t just waste multiple hours, he already got his lieutenants covering the spot with paper work while their commander is away at searching for the love of his life. He wants to be with you longer, probably walk you home again and make sure to protect you from any creeps that would want to attack. He can’t have that, it’s obvious – he is a colonel, unfortunately, he is still on the hunt for those terrorists, he can barely give himself an hour of free time these days.

He already indulged in his fantasies too much when he folds a 100 Euros banknote and puts it into the bill – not sure about how much money it is here, not wanting to give you any trouble with exchanging currency, he just hopes that would be enough for you to at least not worry about food for a few days. Or buy yourself something nice – what girls like these days? Guns, books, some fancy lip gloss, a hat for their adorable little turtles? He would buy you a pet turtle, he always wanted one as a kid – right before his father said that all lizards are products of sinful corporations and a lazy pet like a turtle, unlike a giant dog breed, is completely useless and unmanly.

He doesn’t want to be here when you’ll get the bill – he is too afraid that he didn’t gave you enough, that you'd be disappointed. He would love to give you more, of course, but he doesn’t want to just shove you the money like you are some sort of cheap whore – he wants to give you gifts, something meaningful, to steal you from poverty altogether. König is an expert in infiltration and escaping arts, he can exit the location without anyone noticing a thing, even with his size – and then you look at him, directly into his eyes, covered by sunglasses – and your face is twisted in shock as you realize what exactly he left you.

— Wait, sir! Please, I…god, I will get you the change right now, I’m so sorry, it’s closing shift, I…I’m sorry, I completely forgot…

You are almost begging him to stop and let you give him his money, a honorable deed really – but all he can think of is how nice you would look on your knees, begging him to fuck you already. How perfect you would look all whiny and spoiled, asking him for something expensive, whatever your cute head would want. You would look so complete on his lap, tugging on his shirt and asking your daddy for a new toy. You would…

— It was a tip. Take it.

He wants to be able to tell you how perfect you look, how he wants to just throw you over his shoulder in a totally non-creepy way and make you his little wifey. How he would take multiple months of leave to just be with you, marry you, breed you. He wants to have a way with words, but they are useless to him – he can’t even say he likes you, it’s embarrassing, he is almost forty, he got his rank as youngest colonel in history of KorTac, he can literally have almost everything he wants – except for basic social skills.

He feels like a creep, an old man trying to steal that perfect girl from the shiny world, and he hates himself for it – but then you blush and he can almost convince himself that yeah, you like that creep too.

— I…shit, I mean, sorry…thank you, sir.

— Don’t wander at night again.

He feels like a scolding father and you giggle again, too innocent and naive to understand his thoughts.

— I won’t. Promise.

He then slowly leans closer, puts a hand on your shoulder again – goosebumps are running on your skin. His head is near yours now, he is whispering in your ear – and you are almost sure that you shouldn’t have come closer to him like this, that it’s unprofessional from your side, that everyone is staring at you. They are – and you try to ignore it, but…

— Wear shorts under your skirt next time. Never know who might look at your legs like that.

You would slap him here and there. You would scream and run away right now, but for some stupid, dumb, completely terrifying reason, you…almost like how protective he sounds. And the money he gave you is also helping – even if just a little bit.

König looks at the way you blush even more, and he knows already that he won’t ever let you go.

Tag list: @iwritesjud3

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#call of duty #cod x reader #cod x you #cod #konig mw2 #konig x reader #reader insert #yandere #yandere konig #yandere x reader #yandere cod #fem reader

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cosmictheo · 1 year

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𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦 𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲

gif credits to @peace--n--love

— summary: after neteyam saved you from an attack that almost ended your life, you are determined and devoted to return the favor no matter what, and for that, neteyam has a few very good ideas for you to do it. — pairing: neteyam x female!na'vi!reader — word count: 4.5 k (wow) — warnings: some near-death moments, but there's neteyam ready to save you (as he should), slight post-trauma, smut; explicit sexual scenes, explicit sexual language, oral sex (female receiving), p in v sex, neteyam being the king of consent, mating, pure fluff and comfort, completely head-over-heels in love with the reader!neteyam. minors please do not interact and read under your own responsibility. ✧ Neteyam is aged up, of course, for this specific one shot, he is 19 years old

neteyam's playlist i made for inspo

➯ request by anonymous: ❝ smut, in wich Neteyam saved the reader somehow and it’s the whole “how can i repay you” sorta thing, and one thing leads to another ? ❞

writer's note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

Everything had happened fast, too fast. In a moment you were flying alone with Tsu, your Ikran, all the sky was yours... and in another moment, the metal bird appeared, a helicopter, you guessed, because it was quite similar to the ones Jake had drawn to show you once, warning you of how dangerous and lethal were the weapons they brought, and that they left nothing but ash and destruction in their path.

And you were good at flying with Tsu, you knew how to fly very well, but not well enough, for it had you cornered; the enemy rider was better, much better and more dangerous than any animal you had ever known. You were terrified, because you had never faced anything like this before, you could practically perceive their thirst for blood, for death and for your eventual defeat.

“Fly, Tsu!” You thought as you manibriated through the branches of the lush forest trees, still with the helicopter basically above you, shooting at everything it could, but at least, your Ikran was the fastest in the clan. “We almost lose it.”

But without you expecting it, you found yourself face to face against a corner with no way out, being literally against the sword and the wall.

You were paralyzed, your body didn't show any signs of reacting, your instincts failed you completely, you had no sense of direction to follow, you had never faced a situation like this before, you didn't know what to do, you felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest.

With Tsu's alert screeching sounding as if it were miles away from you, behind great walls, you thought you had lost everything, that this was the way you would pass to the afterlife, that you would be with Eywa at any second now.

Your whole life began to flash before your eyes, your sight blurring and unfocusing, Neteyam's eyes appeared on the spotlight inside your head and your heart froze, thinking of him, thinking that you would never see him again. You were going to loose him.

But suddenly, if your ears didn't fail you, everything went silent, the metallic wings of the helicopter stopped and then there was a big explosion; the enemy had been shot down, but how? Had Eywa heard your prayers? Or were you dead? You were dying?

And as an answer to the million questions that were going through your head, Neteyam's Ikran appeared next to you, with it's owner mounting it, of course, his eyes were huge and disoriented, he was carrying his bow in hand and his hair was swaying with the wind and the sudden movement his Ikran made once it landed next to yours on the huge branch of the tree.

Your heart was pounding, like never before and your mind was spinning, vision even blurred from the adrenaline shooting through your body, you barely managed to formulate questions or words.

“Neteyam, what are you doing here, how did you―” Your mouth half opened, beginning to caress yourself with your hands, your eyes widening, face bathing in disbelief, pure shock. “Am I― Am I dead?”

The Ikrans greeted each other, nuzzling the other's head and purring a little, immediately recognizing each other as the close friends they were, it had always been apparent that the two of them held a special connection.

“Hey, (Y/N). Shh…” Neteyam shook his head, ears ducking, his expression quickly shifting to one of pure concern. He proceeded to lean over his Ikran, reaching out to stop your hand movements and bringing your attention to him. “You're not― You're not dead, okay?” His fingers brushed your hands gently, careful not to let his touch and closeness unsettle you any more than you already were. But, his closeness was always the anchor that brought you back to yourself, back to him. “You're here, you're with me.” He closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, noticing how truly anxious and out of yourself you were. “Let's go back, you need to rest. Can you fly, sevin?”

You simply nodded your head, brain focusing on the delicacy of his voice, the softness in his eyes and the nickname he used, making your senses thrill and begin to orbit around him, as they usually did.

Tsu purred under you, feeling directly the effect Neteyam had on you and then flapped his wings, jerking and shaking the tension and fear out of him with the movement.

Neteyam gave your hand a gentle squeeze, bending slightly to meet your gaze. “Talk to me, (Y/N). Can you follow me?”

“Always.” You promised him and he smiled softly, nodding his head before having his Ikran spread it's wings and take flight, Tsu truly did not hesitate for a moment to follow them, as faithfully as ever, flying alongside his good friend back home.

. . .

A couple of days had passed since the attack and Jake was furious, for the sky people had appeared again in the territory and with them, they brought no good news at all, on the contrary, their reappearance only confirmed that the war was still going on and that it would probably never end, since they kept coming, as bloodthirsty as ever. Jake hated them and now you understood why.

But now you were better, you felt full of energy again, angry, furious, because days ago you had been paralyzed at the probability of your death, you had not even fought back, you had not even tried and because of that, you felt frustrated with yourself. Tsu had also seemed to come back to himself, you hadn't flown with him since that day, you didn't want to force him into anything, but now he seemed happier, much less anxious.

“I'm glad to see you better.” Neteyam commented, once he found you, in that special spot he knew you liked so much, your little hideout, the Tree of Souls.

When you turned to see him, you found him with a beautiful smile plastered on his lips, his bright hair falling delightfully down his shoulders and his tail swaying daintily behind his back.

As he made his way towards you, you returned the smile. “Truth be told, I'm angry now that I didn't do anything at the time.”

He shook his head once he was beside you, looking down at you with his glowing gaze, reflecting the beautiful natural glow of the tree in front of him, watching you intently. “Anyone would have done the same in your position, it was a complicated situation.”

Seeing how you were linked to one of the tree's connections, he lifted his braid, pulling it closer as well. His pupils dilated and his smile widened as he heard the voices of his ancestors inside his head, listening as the memories passed through him, hearing the laughter and chanting, hearing the past.

Your eyes lowered for a moment before raising it again to meet his. “But you were there and you did what I could not, Neteyam. You killed them.” You disconnected your bond from the memories so you could return to the present, holding his gaze. “And you saved my life.”

The smile faded from his face, but a sparkle passed through his big, beautiful eyes as he shook his head and disconnected his bond from the tree. “Anyone would have―”

You rushed to interrupt him, raising your hand to his cheek, hesitating to rest it on his skin. “No. You saved me.”

Neteyam smiled at you again and without even hesitating for a second, he lifted your hand and cradled yours, drawing it over his cheek, leaning his head into it, longing to be closer to your touch, to be close to you. “I would do anything to keep you safe, (Y/N). I want you safe.” Now his hand brought yours to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. “I don't want to lose you.”

“What can I do to thank you for what you've done for me?” you dared to ask him, in a delicate whisper, tilting your head slightly, observing as he placed a tender kiss on your knuckles now.

He half-opened his lips, letting out a soft breath before speaking, also in a whisper, his eyes seeming to glow as bright as the moons, luring you to fall into them, like a bottomless pit, a pit you would happily throw yourself into deliberately. “You know what…”

You moved a little closer to him, ears lowered. “But... you really want me? There are great women in the clan, strong and beautiful enough to be the next Tsahik.” Your gaze dropped to your feet, blushing slightly under his watchful gaze. “And to be your mate…”

Neteyam smiled once more as he leaned closer to you, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. “I've already chosen who I want as my mate. I've known for as long as I can remember.” He then cradled your jaw against his hand, causing you to lift your chin towards him as he noticed how you had lowered your gaze. “It's you. It's always been you. You're all I can think of, the strongest, most beautiful, smartest, bravest in the clan. Perfect.”

Your smile twisted into a sadder one. “But Neteyam, you have a duty, as the next leader of the clan…”

“Love is the death of duty... I would break every rule that binds me to duty for you.” His nose brushed against yours affectionately, but, still, he stopped right there and searched your eyes with his. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please, do whatever you want with me.” You whispered against his lips.

Both of his hands cradled your face as he joined his mouth to yours in the sweetest, softest kiss you had ever been given. Your hands were immediately drawn to his body, like a magnet, sinking into his warmth, his essence, sinking into him.

And if that day you were attacked you hadn't gotten to be with Eywa, now the feeling felt closer than ever, as if the gates of paradise were opening right in front of you, inviting you in, flooding you with the most beautiful, indulgent feeling you had ever felt even a glimpse of them. That was Neteyam's effect on you, the power he had over you.

“You… you taste so good.” He murmured before giving you a couple more short kisses and then, he pulled away a few inches, watching you with a raised eyebrow and a curved little smile at the corner of his lips. “Your face is purple, are you okay?”

“Shut up.” You mumbled letting out a silly giggle, rolling your eyes, before joining your lips with his in a kiss again, now becoming more passionate and desirous, pretentious even. His hands now ran down your neck, caressing your shoulders and arms, until settling on the curve of your waist, fitting there as if missing pieces of a long forgotten puzzle were. As if his hands were made for your body, as if he was made for you. Maybe he was.

He pressed you against him and quickly you were both on the ground, sitting facing each other on the smooth leaves and grass that Eywa provided around the Tree of Souls, glowing with its bioluminescence, the night falling deliciously at your backs.

Neteyam's eyes seemed to dazzle you as they looked at you once more, reflecting all the light he had around him.

“Do you want this too?” He asked tenderly, fingers so meekly and delicately caressing the skin of your cheeks, cheekbones and jaw, as if you were the most delicate flower in all of Pandora, looking at you as the most beautiful and perfect creation Eywa had ever provided.

You could barely nod your head, stunned by all the emotions coursing through you and he smiled affectionately at this, brushing his thumb across your lower lip now, tracing the delicate skin.

“Words,” he whispered, warm breath brushing against your mouth, eyes admiring you affectionately, “I need words, baby. Talk to me.”

The nickname and his voice had an immediate effect on your body, that fluttering in your stomach seemed to intensify you and the heat between your legs shot through your whole body, shooting shivers up your neck.

“I want you― I want this, Neteyam.” You finally answered him, breathless and he smiled once more, leaving a small kiss on your lips. “I want no one but you, nothing else.”

“There's my smart girl.” One more kiss, as he complimented you in a soft, proud tone, and then he bent his head, leaving wet kisses across your jaw, down your neck. “I'll take very good care of you, don't worry. I'll make you feel good.”

You gave him more access to your skin, twisting your head to the side and closing your eyes, completely pleased, feeling each time how your body wanted more of him in you, you were on the verge of madness.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

“Okay.” You affirmed, nodding your head slowly, still with your eyes closed.

“Good girl.” He complimented you, you managed to hear the smile on his lips as he spoke and then he planted a kiss on your closed eyelids before he started kissing your collarbone, moving down between your breasts, moving lower and lower. “You are so beautiful. The most beautiful.”

“Yours, I am yours.” You promised in a whisper.

“You will be.”

You swallowed saliva as you felt his hot breath against your pelvis. “Please don't stop.”

His soft lips followed a path he was making for himself across the inside of your thighs, which, you had opened, of course, allowing him to have more access to you, to the most sensitive part of your body, the part that most longed to have him close. His proximity had obvious effects on you, an effect that did not go unnoticed by Neteyam, as he let out a gasp as he sensed the warmth felt between your legs.

His eyes lifted, to look at you once again and you noticed immediately how dilated his pupils were now, his expression had also changed, blinded by desire, passion, longing to have you so close, intoxicated by your scent and warmth.

And even though, verbally and physically you had conveyed to him that you were completely at his mercy, he questioned in a soft tone. “Can I kiss you here?”

Your heart wanted to pound out of your chest as you nodded your head, biting your lip lightly before answering him between shaky breaths. “Yes, 'Teyam, please.”

He kissed your thighs one last time before his hands reached for your clothes, fingers hooking into the fabrics to pull them out of his way, he pulled the tie at the side of your hip and the thin fabric slipped off, sliding down your hips and falling to the floor on the side. And from one moment to the next, you were completely naked in front of him, on full display for his observant eyes, which didn't stop looking at your body for a second. He looked stunned, speechless, as if he was looking at the brightest star in the sky.

And when you felt his lips landing on your heat, you did feel like you were flying, like your body began to levitate and simply orbit around him, around his soft lips, his tongue and how he made you feel. It was a feeling you had never even imagined yourself feeling, you were sure you would see Eywa any moment now, within your closed eyes.

Your back arched involuntarily, body reacting to the wave of pleasure that succumbed against you and you swore you felt him smile against you as your whimpers began to invade the place and reached his ears.

Your hand sought his head, sinking into his silky hair at the same time as one of his ran up your stomach, fingers shooting shivers down his path across your skin and you moaned as his tongue traced a path through your folds and then sucked gently.

“You taste so good, (Y/N).” He whispered against you, wet noises that made you blush even more were heard as he kissed tenderly and so laboriously. Neteyam moaned with delight, as if he was feasting on the most delicious food he had ever savored. “You are the finest meal I have ever tasted.”

At his words and the way his tongue moved against you, your legs felt weak, fingers tugging at his hair. “N―Neteyam…”

As you moaned, your thighs pressed against his head and he seemed to almost purr in contentment, completely thrilled at the way you were crumbling under his mouth, which he withdrew, leaving light kisses on the inside of your thighs, noticing how you were beginning to speedily head towards your climax and all because of his doings.

He smiled as he saw a pout form in your mouth at the lack of friction, dark eyes, dilt pupils, trembling legs, you really were a sight to see. Beautiful, he thought.

“Relax, baby, I want you to let go when I'm inside you, okay? Don't be eager now. I want us to do it together…”

You weren't used to hear such obscene words coming out of Neteyam's mouth, moreover, with luck sometimes you managed to hear him say a couple of curse words, taken from Jake's vocabulary, but, hearing him say all that and with that tone of voice that, it seemed, was reserved for your ears only, turned out to be something so exciting and uncommon that you immediately felt yourself blushing, as your body was scandalized, just for him.

But it was when he followed an imaginary wet path of kisses across your stomach and raised his head, that you saw how his lips and surroundings were totally soaked by your own wetness, glistening against the bioluminescence. At that sight, you felt that knot that was being pulled and tugged with each passing second in his proximity tighten fiercely.

He gave you a small kiss and the taste of your own flavor on his lips shot shivers through your body.

Neteyam took your chin and made you look directly at him. “You're doing so good, baby.” He pressed a small kiss to your nose as he gave you a warm soft smile. “Now I want you to hop up on my lap, okay? Come here.”

And who were you to even think of doubting his commands?

With the support of both of his hands passing around your waist and giving your ass a squeeze, you jumped onto his lap, immediately embracing his neck and attacking his lips with your own, feeling his fangs nibble on your lower lip delicately. You let out a ticklish giggle as he descended his kisses down your neck once more, hands caressing everything they could touch within reach, molding your curves, grabbing and massaging every inch of skin on your body, leaving you breathless and craving for more, you always desired more, you could never get enough of him.

Then, his hand took your braid, while the other caressed the side of your thigh and he smiled at how you had so quickly gotten his idea, when you delicately took the longest braid of his, bringing it closer to yours held in his hand, ready to link up with each other.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Neteyam asked once more, caressing your face now with his unoccupied hand and dragging his gaze from your bonds to your eyes, which softened, giving you the last chance to take back this decision, the last chance to run away from him, the last chance to not spend the rest of your life by his side.

You simply looked at him affectionately and lifted up slightly to give him a gentle kiss, at last joining your bond with his. You both trembled and breathed shakily, pupils dilated, ears ducking.

And so, under the glow of the stars, before the eye of Eywa and all of Pandora, you mated for life. It was done. And none of you seemed to regret it for a second.

“I see you, (Y/N).” He murmured against your lips, forehead pressed against yours, eyes closed, for even so, he could see you, he could feel you, he could admire your gorgeousness, your very soul, through more than just his eyes. Your soul danced next to his and his spirit connected to yours. He was yours, always had been.

“I see you, Neteyam.”

You smiled, feeling his warmth envelop you, his essence, his soul, sink into you and fill you with a feeling you knew only he was capable of making you feel. It was Neteyam after all, your Neteyam

“Please, I need you.” You begged against his lips. “So bad, my love.”

Neteyam lets out a shaky breath, feeling as if his heart would explode, of love, of desire, of pure euphoria. Holding you against him tightly, he lined the head of his cock up against your soaked folds, almost feeling your insides clenching on nothing, longing to hold him inside.

You both moaned simultaneously when he was finally inside you, feeling as he made his way through your tight gummy walls.

“O-Oh, shit, baby.” Neteyam groaned shakily against your ear, from the pleasure, the feeling of being wrapped up by you, from your nails scratching his back, your small, broken little whimpers against him. It all felt so good, so heavenly.

Your body seemed to almost collapse from feeling so full of it, legs trembling.

Neteyam hid his face against your neck, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, trembling lips brushing against your sensitive skin, letting himself fall into how your walls squeezed him so deliciously, how he fit perfectly between them, as if you were made for him.

“So tight…” He murmured between kisses and little nibbles at the base of your neck. “You feel like heaven.”

He had heard stories from his father telling of how religion was back in his world, of how people worshipped a god, a god who lived beyond the sky, in a place called heaven, which was paradise, the highest place anyone could reach, a place of pure splendor, magnificence and harmony. Neteyam was sure that god did not feel as good in his heaven as he did in his, in you.

“Neteyam...” You managed to call out to him, breath coming in ragged gasps and voice trembling. Your voice only makes Neteyam feel higher, more elated than ever, and he responds to it immediately, coming out of hiding so he can look directly at you, noticing how your eyes held tears, cheeks flushed, hands trembling behind his back.

He proceeded to kiss you affectionately, letting out a shuddering breath, as he caressed your waist, ass, back, everything possibly within his reach. “Can I move?”

It took a couple of seconds before you managed to nod your head, starting to feel how, slowly, your body began to get used to him, to his filling, how your warm walls molded to his size.

He left a couple of delicate kisses on your nose and forehead as he began to move, dragging his cock with his movements and begin to slowly fuck inside of you, having to bite his lip to keep from letting out the most animalistic growl ever heard.

At the sudden movement inside you, you gasped, fiercely tightening your grip on his back, making him moan against your lips each time you scratched his skin.

“'Te-Teyam―” You cried out his name and he silenced you with a kiss, so deeply intimate that you felt, amidst all the pleasure and excitement, that you would sob any minute now.

“It's all right, my love. I got you.” He whispered between moans against your mouth, giving you a slightly harder thrust upwards, causing your mouth to slightly half-open, moaning in between breaths. “I got you...”

Neteyam pressed you against his body, bringing you with him once he lay down on the ground, leaving you sitting on his cock, hands around your waist to support you and help you move over him.

The new position made you both groan, feeling closer than ever.

Your back arched every time you moved on him, up and down, circling, whatever you did, it had Neteyam completely spellbound, lips quivering, eyes closed, hands squeezing tightly on your hips.

Your linked braids swayed with the movements, brushing against your hands on Neteyam's chest.

“You do it so well,” He blubbered this time, half-opening his eyes to look up at you, seeing you glowing above him. “oh Great Mother, shit, fuck― (Y/N)”

You could feel his lower abs tensing with every little movement you made on his cock, his hands went down to your ass, grabbing as much skin as they possibly could.

“Oh shit.” You groan, closing your eyes, feeling the head of his cock rub against that spot with every thrust inside you, pushing you over the edge quickly.

From one moment to the next and locked beneath the strength of his arms, you were now under his body, cock filling all the way to the brim, as one hand lifted one of your legs against him, knee on his waist, allowing him to reach where he had not been able to before, which had you basically gasping for air.

“You've been so good, let me fill you up, yes?” Neteyam whispered huskily, forehead resting against yours, eyes looking at you affectionately, but as dark as you've ever seen them. “Let me fill you with my seed, you deserve it, you've been such a good girl to me, let go, let go with me…”

“Yes please.” You managed to plead between whimpers, eyesight blurred from tears, hands sinking through his hair, nose brushing against his before giving him a kiss. “Oeyä Neteyam―”

Your words and voice was what threw him off the edge and growling so animalistic against your lips, his thrust trembled, hips quivering against yours as he felt your walls tighten in a death grip around his cock, barely allowing him to move as he painted your walls his color, shooting his hot seed into your womb. Face hiding again in your neck, sinking into your skin and scent, body pressing against yours, so soft and warm.

You are both barely breathing, slowly feeling yourselves coming back to reality, the world crawling back to you, heartbeat normalizing. You felt how your throat was dry, body feeling so heavy and tired now.

All was silent, your fingers began to stroke and comb through his hair, ears, cheeks, nape of his neck and back.

But Neteyam didn't want to come back to reality, he wanted to stay right there, sunk into you, inside you, forever. His cock softened inside you and promptly, the adrenaline and euphoria stopped coursing through his veins, feeling nothing but love now, drowning love, feeling only you.

“Thank you, baby―” He whispered, choking back a sob.

Your brow furrowed slightly and you rested your hands on his cheeks, forcing him to pull away from you so you could look at him. His eyes were crystallized with tears, but you could see nothing but love and warmth in them, you saw nothing but his soul reflecting yours.

“Thank you, for saving me.” You whispered against his mouth, giving him a small kiss and then, kissing his nose, and eyelids, once he closed them, blinded by your affection.

“No,” Neteyam answered you, opening his eyes, your thumb wiping away a tear that managed to escape, preventing it from wetting his already sweaty cheeks. “You saved me, yawnetu.”

You just kissed him, over and over again.

sevin: pretty.

oeyä: my, mine.

yawnetu: loved one, beloved, lover, beloved person.

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whatthefishh · 11 months

Text

take my breath

Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI; p in v, unprotected, cream pie, crying, makeup ruined, uhhh basically porn without plot lol! Straight smut.

700~ words

Miguel wants you to want him all the time, he wants you to leave his place with him on your mind. It started out with you not knowing much, he was the one who introduced you to the euphoria your body could bring you. Nobody else had ever made you feel the way he did, and slowly you became more comfortable with asking what you wanted from him. You could never refuse him either, his touch was too addicting.

Today you spent a little more time than you probably needed to get ready, his text earlier causing butterflies and making you second guess your outfit, applying a little more makeup than usual. It was pointless, though, because as soon as you walked through the door you began stripping your layers for him.

Before you knew it, you were under his looming frame on the mattress with your hips propped up on a pillow as he buried his length between your legs. You couldn’t help but moan obscenely on every stroke, his thickness overwhelming your senses so much that you were desperately searching for purchase on his back, nails digging in dangerously.

“Look at you, what a pretty little mess you are for me, princesa,” he rasped out, fingers leaving imprints on your hips.

You could only whine in response, too fucked out to be embarrassed at the way your makeup was ruined, your mascara running down your face from the hysterical tears he pulled from you.

“M-Miguel—“

“I know, baby, I know, but you look so good right now.”

And you do, you’re taking him so well, you’re so wet you can hear yourself. His eyes are trained on where he’s splitting you on his throbbing cock, chest puffing at the sight. Your cheeks burn from the shame of how fast you’re losing your shit.

Miguel didn’t even have time to play with your soaked folds before you were begging him to fill you up and now that he was, you were gushing all around him. Covering your face with your hands for some semblance of relief, he was quick to growl and lift one hand to pull your wrists back — in one hand, both your wrists fit in just one hand — scolding you for it.

“Why are you hiding from me, angel?”

Overwhelmed with pleasure, you’re near tears and Miguel can hear it in your voice when you beg him so sweetly.

“Shh, take it for me, just take it,” he coos at you while not relinquishing his hold on your wrists and continuing to torment you at his current pace.

Your breath comes out heavier and he’s watching your face change, and when his hand slides from your hip up to your breast to tweak a nipple between his fingers, you let out a shuddering exhale and come before you can help it.

“Fuuuuck, there you go, isn’t that what you needed? Always gonna take care of my girl,” he grunts as you pulsate over his girth.

Miguel bends at the waist after releasing your wrists, sinful mouth brushing your ear as he continues to grunt, uh uh uh, while he speeds up his thrusts to fuck into you harder, deeper. The heavy drag of his cock inside your soaked walls continues to coil in your tummy, the pleasure not fully faded from your veins and although your limbs feel like lead, you’re well on your way to your second orgasm.

He’s saying something in your ear, incoherent words of praise about your body, how wet and good you are for him, how he loves that he can wreck you; the words not fully making sense to you in your fucked out state but you pull him closer by his broad fucking shoulders as he sounds more and more feral.

His thrusts become sloppy and when he bites down on the junction between your neck and shoulder, you cry out his name as your pussy flutters around him. And he’s right behind you, moaning unabashedly into your sweat slick skin while he thrusts his release into your core, the white liquid spilling out as he draws out his pleasure.

After a moment to catch his breath, Miguel turns over and pulls you onto his broad chest, still buried inside you. He rubs your arm and back with his hands, soothing your body with his surprisingly gentle touch after quite literally making you cry on his cock. He doesn’t kiss you, doesn’t talk to you much after, but this is enough for you. At this moment, he is enough for you and he doesn’t have to be anything more than that. With you, he never does.

#miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x you #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse fanfiction #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #spiderman atsv #ATSV fanfiction

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harleehazbinfics · 3 months

Text

‌ For the Dreaming

Lucifer Morningstar x devout!reader

devout series

Word Count: 920+

A/N: word puke basically. y'all i was writing this on my phone notes, takes me back to my highschool days writing on wattpad 😭 also also i need to work on a poster for this series hngshd *update: i got the poster >:]]

You finally got around to having lessons with Lucifer on flying. Husk could've helped you, but he couldn't be bothered. While all he did was just doze around the bar and barely does anything, you respected his decision and left him to himself. Leading you at Lucifer's door.

‌ As you softly knock folding hands to yourself as you wait with a small smile as you greet him much to his pleasant surprise.

"Hey, (y/n)! Come in, come in! What can I do for you?" He asked letting you in his room.

"I wanted to ask you for your help," you chirped adorably making the former angel smile, "I wanted to learn how to fly. I can get by with walking but it could be helpful when I'm trying to get away from one of Vaggie and Angel's fights."

‌ He smiles at your joke, and nods, agreeing to your request. So he takes you to the hotel's roof and teaches you how to flap your wings on the ground. Then takes you to the air teaching you how to glide and practice how and when to flap your wings.

‌ Your sessions would go on for a couple weeks until you could confidently fly by yourself, and even take Lucifer on some races that you'd naturally lose to. The man knew how to fly before the Earth was even created and he had 3 pairs of wings, so what chances would you have had to win against him.

‌ However, that doesn't mean that he isn't proud of you all the same. He was enamored by how gracefully you flew, the elegant tuck of your wings when you dove under obstacles, how your body moves along your movements like a captivating dance and most importantly, how your wings flutter subconsciously as you talked and joked with him.

‌ It didn't take a genius to realize that this duck-loving King of Hell was definitely having feelings towards you. Oof.

‌ He noticed that despite your conservative behavior you normally show around others, when you let your walls down, he realizes that you enjoyed jokes a lot despite how corny they would be and enjoyed sharing the same type of humor to him. He learnt that you were just naturally kind to others, being their shoulder to cry on, being so generous and helpful to others without expecting anything in return. Which was such a fresh breath of air in this damned place, that only takes from one another.

‌ When he asks what your dreams were, you smiled distantly. You explained that you never had dreams for yourself, as a servant of God, you have wished the best for people hoping blessings will find their way and enlighten them in their time of need. But you never pursued any of your time towards any hobbies. Not because you didn't have time, but because you were content in the role that you played and seeing such happy faces that you've helped.

‌ Lucifer knew you were such a kind soul, but he never knew that it was to this extent. But he wanted to help you realize your interests, so he starts picking out what you enjoyed doing aside from your missionary work. You shared that you normally journaled and read bibles and various genres of books.

‌ Both of you divulged and shared your interest that never realized that you were gone for 3 days away from the hotel, away in Lucifer's castle messing around and playing Lucifer's duck inventions and papers sprawled out on the floor, until Charlie called her dad worriedly.

‌ Both of you raced to the hotel and explained what happened to Charlie to calm her when she was on the brink of a mental breakdown.

‌ To assure her daughter, he summons yours and his work on the waiting lounge that barely anyone used and continued working with you there in Charlie's sights.

‌ When the princess of hell finally calms down with Vaggie comforting her, she immediately notices how bright her father's eyes had gotten. No longer the disassociated look that seemed to drown out his problems by working and working until he stopped thinking about anything else.

‌ She liked the new look on his dad's face when he clearly enjoyed creating inventions that had a purpose and a face full of wonder. And she definitely knew it was because of you and she couldn't be more grateful to you for it.

‌ You reminded him what it's like to dream, to show wondrous and wonderful things with the world. Things that could change and even help the world. Something that he long buried deep within himself with shame and embarrassment.

‌ He loved the smile on your face when you shared some fact that he probably already knew about or how your eyes shined when he showed you all the tricks his ducks could do.

‌ He most especially loved the way you called his nickname though. It was just the first 2 syllables of his name, but his heart would've flown out his chest when you called him so tenderly.

‌ He knew it came from a place that condemned his name being spoken so brazenly, that you had opted to call out his name as "Luci." He never minded it though, he knew of how much they hated him that it became numbed to him, unfortunately. Besides, he adored how your lips curled to a smile when you called him, so it was nothing under his skin. He loved you all the same.

Wait... Did he just say loved??? ... shit..

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin fotel fanfic #hazbin husk #hazbin lucifer #hazbin vaggie #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #lucifer hazbin hotel #i love luci

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kazbrekkerscrutches · 1 year

Text

Xavier Thorpe - Believe Me

Warnings: Threatening Thing (JUSTICE FOR THING), mention of reader being hurt (no gore, no b!ood), overall just love and tension (ENJOY!)

Words: 1.4 k

SHE/HER PRONOUNS

Context/Trope: Reader sneaks into Xavier’s room to find out about Rowan, he catches her. Basically, reader is an Addams (not like Wednesday) and with modified storyline with cheesiness.

I saw Xavier coming back from his run, hair wet, skin dewy, earbuds in his ears, his sweaty shirt clinging to his chest.

Dear, what a sight for my sore eyes.

He walked back into his room, slamming the door behind him; Thing slipped into his room before the door was closed. I heard another door slam; probably his bathroom door, which means; perfect timing for me to go find out all of his secrets.

I opened the door silently, shutting it quietly behind me.

His room looked like a normal boy’s room. Poster/paintings/drawings on his wall. An artist has to show their talent somehow. Thing looked for anything that could lead me to find out if there was anything about his dear ex-roommate, Rowan.

The one who tried to kill me two times.

[Flashback]

I got out of the infirmary, after that humiliating fencing experience, only to find out that it was raining.

Wonderful. I mean truly, this is quite uplifting.

I opened my umbrella, walked toward my room when I heard a vibration coming over me. I looked up only to find the statue of a gargoyle being tipped to fall on top of me.

This a peaceful death, I thought.

“Y/N!” I heard the familiar sound of a boy taking me by my waist and pushing me to the ground.

Everything was black after that.

[Xavier’s POV]

“Y/N!” I saw Rowan using his telekinesis to try and kill her. I took her by her waist just in time before the gargoyle hit the ground.

I had placed one of my hand under her head, hoping she didn’t break anything. I was almost on top of her, my heart beating out of my chest, tears prickling my eyes.

Please don’t let her be dead, I thought.

“Y/N?” Can you hear me?” I took her face in my hand, placing her gently in my lap.

No reaction.

I gently pressed my ear to her chest, hoping to hear something.

A heartbeat, another one. Thank God, thank whoever is out there.

I picked her up delicately and led her once again to the infirmary. The nurses told me she was okay, that she would’ve been killed if it wouldn’t have been for me.

“Please be okay, Y/N” I whispered. “I can’t lose you. You’re all I have.” I sighted, reassuring myself that she was okay. She will be okay.

She woke up minutes after my words.

“Y/N. Take it easy.” She sat up slowly from the bed, looking straight at me.

“That thing was about to fall on me, correct?” I nodded; she touched her head slightly with her hand.

God she is so beautiful. Her long Y/H/C hair that covered her face slightly, her pale yet sometimes rosy complexion. Her dark clothing, yet fits her so right. God, I am totally in love with her.

“Thank you, Xavier. For not letting me die.” She smiled at me.

No way. I’d never thought I’d see the day when Y/N Addams would smile at me.

“Anytime.” I offered a warm smile back, and we kept talking for a little while, still with my heart beating out of my chest, but in a good way this time.

[Present time, Y/N’s POV]

I looked around the place, finding an empty bed.

Rowan’s, I thought.

I looked under the mattress, not finding anything. His desk, empty. Everything was gone. Not even a single hair was on the mattress or the pillow that was left behind.

I switched my sight over to Xavier’s side.

Maybe there’s something that Rowan hid in there, I thought.

I looked on his desk where colored pencils and pens were spread out on the table.

His sketch book was the also, his initials carved on the leather cover.

X.T.

Such pretty details. I opened it, finding drawings of raven, spiders, sharply detailed drawings.

A cello appeared too. My face was the next page. All my features were correct, as if he drew this with me two inches from his face.

Another drawing of me, sleeping in the infirmary had me shocked.

Was he obsessed with me? Is he like Rowan? My thoughts were rattling through my head.

I was so in my space that when I turned around, I was face to face to the boy in question.

“Hi, what are you doing here?” He was very close to me; hair dripping wet, a hoodie on top of him and pyjama pants hanging on his hips.

I tried to get a logic and sane explanation out, but the stupidest thing came out instead.

“I came here because I thought Rowan might’ve hidden something that could’ve led to him to try to kill me.” I nervously fidgeted with my fingers behind my back, which is something I never, ever do.

“I don’t think there’s anything in my sketch book that might help you, Y/N.” I could practically smell what soap he used to clean his body, wash his hair.

“Right. I should go.” I tried to go but he trapped me by his desk with both of his arms on the desk.

“Tell me the truth, Y/N.” He tilted his head so that he was leveling with mine.

“I did tell you the truth.” I could feel my heart beating out of my chest.

“No, I think you’re here because you have something to tell me. Something that isn’t about Rowan, or the Nightshade or of what Thing found out.” Thing crawled out to be in Xavier’s sight.

He bent down to my ear, whispering slowly in it.

“Are you here to tell me that you like me?” He pulled back, still trapping me by his arms.

I could fell my cheeks heat up, my legs felt shaky and everything about me wanted to scream yes to him. To make him kiss me, touch me with his hands, to embrace me into his scent and make me his.

“That is in your dreams, Xavier. Or shall I say in your drawings too.” His face broke out into a smirk.

“What if I said that I liked you too, Y/N.” My eyes widened up, every part of me that was filled with anxiety left my body.

“I wouldn’t believe you.” I lied.

He bent down to tilt my head up to look up at him. He came closer to me, his lashes practically brushing my cheek.

“You don’t believe me? I’ll guess I’ll just have to prove it to you.”

His lips met mine, a fire exploded in my heart, my brain, my everything. His lips were soft yet so passionate and kind. His damp hair tickled my cheek as I wrapped one of my hands by his neck, the other one in his hair. His other hand traveled down the valley of my back, caressing my upper back down to my waist. He pulled me closer to him, feeling the softness of his shirt yet the hardness of his body underneath.

We both pulled away to breathe and look at each other.

“Do you believe me now, princess?” I nodded repeatedly.

He smiled and leaned his forehead against mine, I lifted my head up to kiss him again and he gladly accepted. I pulled back and looked at him.

“I’m sorry I barged in your room. I should’ve just asked you.” He rubbed his hands down my back.

“Do it again. I don’t mind.” I laughed a little, he did too.

I checked the time only to notice that I had to go meet Enid in our room.

“I have to go. Enid emergency.” I still looked in his eyes. Beautiful green eyes.

“Manis for her and Thing, got it.” He kissed me once again on the lips before we both pulled away from each other.

“So, you like me right, like this isn’t to get information out of me?” He asked, half joking.

“Yes, I like you, Xavier. Though I could still get information out of you anytime I want.” I winked, leaving his room as he was smiling and I walked back to my room.

Thing followed me from behind, all excited about his manicure.

“If you tell anyone what happened, I will rip out your nails.” I snarked, he shook slightly in fear before swearing he wouldn’t say anything.

I guess I did not fall in love with a psychopath.

#xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #wednesday netflix #wednesday series #wednesday 2022 #wednesday

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loonylupinblack3 · 9 days

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Could you do fic for Mark Webber with wife reader? Just her being their children to the paddock and everyone quickly gushed over the kids. Both Lando and Oscar act like big brothers to them and felt very protective of the Webber's family. Would absolutely do everything the kids asked them to. So, there was chaos every time she brought them to the garage. But everyone wouldn't trade them for anything. Just something fluff and cute. Tag me later!! Thanks:)()

Pairing: Mark Webber x Reader

Warnings: extremely vague suggestive content

Summary: Mark brings you and your kids to the grand prix

A/N: was very fun to write this request, hope you enjoy <3

You fixed your son’s hat, turning it the right way and giving it a slight pat. Ever the moody nine year old your son Connor scowled up at you, batting your hand away.

“Now, is that the sort of way you treat your mother?” came your husband’s voice, accompanied with an arm around your waist.

You smiled as your husband finally finished getting ready and as your five year old daughter waddled behind him, ever the follower. Wherever Mark went, Lily went with him. You knelt down and picked your daughter up, the girl giggling and hugging your neck.

“Ready to go?” you asked your family, though it was Mark who answered, nodding his head and putting his hand on the small of your back, leading you outside to the car.

You buckled in Lily, Connor insisting he could do his seatbelt himself, and got into the passenger seat as Mark started the car. Lily was full of questions about her first grand prix event, a constant stream of words leaving her mouth at all times.

You answered them the best you could, though some of them were quite….. Unique questions.

“What if a dinosaur went on track during the race?” Lily asked, kicking her feet. “Would the race stop? Would people die?”

Lily looked a bit too cheerful at her words. Connor rolled his eyes at his sister.

“That wouldn’t happen, dinosaurs went extinct ages ago.”

You smiled at your son through the mirror. “Someone’s been doing their research.”

Connor smiled, puffing his chest out slightly. His early defiance was forgotten and he was looking quite pleased that you’d noticed his education on dinosaurs.

“I learnt it at school. Also, did you know….”

You listened intently as your son explained his learnings of space, smiling at his excited rambling. Mark’s hand moved to your thigh, resting there comfortably. Your smile widened. You’d known Mark a long time, and during that time you’d figured out whenever Mark was happy he’d touch you. Like he felt contentment and touching you just mirrored his feelings. Like touching you was the icing on the cake, the perfect addition to his perfect feeling.

You looked at Mark with a smile. He noticed your gaze and smiled back, squeezing your thigh gently.

“Also Mum,” Connor continued, “when we get to the race can we have a hot chocolate?”

Lily gasped. “Please Mum!”

You sighed at your children’s antics, and you knew sugar would just hype them up and then have them crash down, but how could you say no to them?

“We’ll see,” you conceded, which was basically a yes.

You arrived at the circuit, parking in the VIP car park Connor was all too excited to talk about as you walked to the grid. You held his hand as you walked, something Connor had complained about at the start but you were insistent. It was a crowded place and you didn’t want to lose him.

Mark was holding Lily, the girl curled up in her father’s arms. You smiled at the sight before listening to Connor, paying him the attention he expected from you as he swung your arms back and forth, chattering about his latest discovery.

Hefting Lily to one arm, Mark took your free hand and together your family walked into the paddock, receiving the sudden flash of cameras as people tried to get your attention. You held your son closer, feeling his hand squeeze yours in panic, though unfortunately he was used to this. You could see Mark doing the same thing for Lily, letting the girl hide her face into the crook of his neck.

When you’d passed the paparazzi, entering the VIP section of the grid where they didn’t have access too, Mark gently put Lily down and you let go of Connor’s hand, trusting the two of them to walk freely.

Mark held onto your hand more tightly, tugging you closer to him. You laughed, shaking your head, and Mark grinned, pressing a chaste kiss to the side of your head.

“Oscar! Oscar!”

Lily started bolting forward, making your eyes widen and an immediate reaction to run after her seize you, but when your brain understood what she was saying your gaze travelled further and found the Australian driver grinning, arms out for your daughter.

Connor was quick to follow, running after his sister, and you and Mark shared a wry grin before walking after them. Lando appeared next to you from who knows where, giving you a tight hug.

“There’s my favourite F1 wag,” he murmured into your ear.

You laughed and hugged him back. “It’s good to see you too, Lando.”

The two of you pulled back just as Lily noticed Lando, letting a dramatic gasp leave her lips before she was running after him, Connor hot on her heels. You smiled, watching your two kids embrace Lando as Mark greeted Oscar, squeezing his shoulder.

As they talked you kept an eye on your kids, making sure they didn’t overwhelm Lando with their questions and chatter. The young Mclaren driver seemed to be doing just fine however, enjoying the conversation almost as much as the kids themselves.

Oscar walked over to you and you tore your gaze away from your children, instead focusing on your other child that Mark and you had practically adopted. Oscar gave you a grin and hugged you tightly, his figure towering over you slightly.

“Thanks for coming,” he murmured into your hair.

You pulled back, giving him a fond smile. “Of course. We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

A faint blush spread across Oscar’s cheeks and you grinned, letting him go. Mark immediately replaced him, hand snaking to your waist and pulling you to his side.

“Mum! Mum!” Connor asked, running up to you. “Lando said he’d take us to the Mclaren garage. Can we go? Please.”

You smiled and nodded. “We can all go.”

Your kids let out a cheer and trailed behind Lando and Oscar who’d joined them, the two Mclaren drivers listening to your chattering children as they led them to the garage.

“How about you and me disappear somewhere?” Mark whispered into your ear, a devious grin on his face. “Lando and Oscar can mind the kids for a while.”

You turned to your husband and smirked, hands wrapping around his neck. “What did you have in mind?”

#mark webber #mark webber x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #mark webber fanfic #mark webber fanfiction #mclaren #oscar piastri #lando norris #husband!markwebber #formula one

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kolsmikaelson · 2 months

Text

— ANGUS TULLY NSFW ALPHABET

NOTES — not quite sure on angus’ canon age but for the sake of this he’s over 18.

WARNINGS — nsfw 18+ content, fem!reader, not proofread so ignore any typos

join my taglist or follow @rodrickhefley to see when i post

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he doesn’t understand the point of aftercare in the beginning, but once you’ve explained it to him he’s a god at aftercare. he’ll keep a stash of water bottles in his room to have one on hand at all times, cleans you up and brings you to the restroom, will ask if there’s anything else he can do for you, and then take you back to bed and cuddles with you until you both fall asleep, all while whispering sweet praises to you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he doesn’t really have a favorite of his own, he doesn’t think he’s anything special until he meets you and learns to love himself a bit more!! but his favorite body part of yours is your eyes and your tits. he adores the way he can look into your eyes and see the love you have for him. and he doesn’t mind taking a peek down your shirt every once in a while either.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he loves cumming on your face, the sight of you on your knees in front of him, tongue lolling out of your mouth drives him crazy.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he loves shower sex. there's just something about it that makes him lose his mind

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

the most inexperienced person ever, definitely would let you take the lead (even if you’re just as inexperienced as him) for a while until he’s more comfortable taking charge

F = Favorite position ( goes without saying)

full nelson or mating press

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

the farthest thing from serious that you can be, he tries to be serious but one little thing will send him into a fit of giggles

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he’s not groomed at all, it’s a bit of a mess until you come along, then he’ll let you teach him (do it for him) how to keep it under control

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he wants to make it as romantic as he can for you, usually. but of course there’s the off chance that he’ll be more mean (aka when he’s jealous) but he still makes sure that you feel how much he loves you

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he’s such a loser he jerks off so often. more so when he meets you because he can’t keep his mind off of you

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

huge mommy kink. he likes it when you spit in his mouth. praise kink

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

the showers or somewhere else that's semi-public

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

knowing that he’s made you proud of him, whether that be from acing an exam or something else, the smile and the praises he gets from you gets him so hard so quickly

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

no piss kink at all. and he doesn’t want to choke you, but he wouldn’t exactly be against you choking him from time to time

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he doesn’t start out the best at it but he loves giving you head, he likes to learn every inch of your body, what makes you tick, what you do and don’t like

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

a mix of both honestly, he’s kind of sloppy in a way, but he goes back and forth

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

hates them. he feels like he doesn’t get enough time with you

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

sort of, he’s not super big on taking risks seeing as he doesn’t want to hurt you in any way but depending on what it is and if you also want to try it, he’ll be game

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

not very long, but he recovers quickly enough. usually you can get two/three rounds at once before he needs a little break

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he doesn’t own any toys for himself, but he likes using your vibe on the both of you. especially when he’s inside of you, he likes the way he can feel the vibrations too

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he wouldn’t know how to tease you well if it hit him dead in the face. but when you tease him? he’s obsessed

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he’s so loud, sometimes he’ll have to hide his face in your neck to try and muffle the noises he’s making, but he can’t help it, you just feel so good

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

he loves sucking and biting on your tits, he’s the biggest boob guy there is

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he’s big. and i’m talking angus is hung. he doesn’t think he’s all that big until he meets you and sees the look of shock on your face when you see his cock for the first time

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

decently high. he’s so in love with you and is constantly thinking about you. he’ll zone out and start daydreaming about you and end up getting hard

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he passes out quickly. he takes care of you, cleans you up and is out like a light

#◜ caitee’𝗌 works ✎ ˚✧ ꜝ #dividers by cafekitsune #angus tully #the holdovers #angus tully x reader #angus tully imagine #angus tully smut #angus tully x you #angus tully headcanons #the holdovers x reader #the holdovers imagine #the holdovers smut #the holdovers headcanons #the holdovers x you

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wellfine · 1 year

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HII I love your art so much it's so expressive and it feels like theres so much movement in it! I was wondering if u had any tips or advice to help with that? I practice anatomy and expression so much but it seems like everything I draw on my own is so stiff!! Anyway I hope you have a great week :)) <3

Hi there! Firstly, thank you so much for the kind words, it means a lot that you would take the time to tell me!

Second- my advice is to take everything you've learned about anatomy and THROW IT OUT THE WINDOW!!!!!!!

... For now. Just into the front yard so you can keep an eye on it. But I have seen many artists concentrate chiefly on studying anatomy only to feel like their art ends up too stiff. My own experience has been to treat anatomy as a tool best used to correct an image in the later stages of construction rather than as your driving foundation.

If "correct" anatomy (however you choose to define that) is the priority of your undersketches, I find that you end up with a sort of Skeleton Song approach to drawing - y'know, the knee bone's connected to the thigh bone, etc etc. Whatever energy, emotion, or intent you wanted your drawing to convey is getting lost each time you split it into another anatomical segment. By over-focusing on individual parts, you lose sight of your image as a whole.

The key to conveying dynamic movement in motionless art is to ensure every element of your image agrees on and communicates the same action, the key to which is something called the line of action.

A line of action is simply that - an implied "line" with wich you lead the viewer's eye and communicate movement. Think of it as the core of your figure's action, simplified to its rawest form. By knowing this, you know what to emphasise and what to de-emphasise.

Well, art is a visual medium and I am better explaining with drawings than words or I'd never have picked up a pen in the first place, so:

Images can have multiple lines of action, lines of action can complement and contrast each other, and a line of action isn't always as obvious as something like running. Imagine you're tring to make your art more "aerodynamic" to the eye. Since I draw a lot of One Piece fanart, I assume you're also familiar with it, and you can probably imagine how Oda uses "lines of action" when composing panels of Luffy punching something, Zoro slicing something, Sanji kicking something- etc etc. He's really good at selling the "oomph" of action shots by reducing visual clutter so that the impact of the action is greater.

(The Monster Trio's abilities are all designed in such a way that allow for REALLY striking lines of action... you can tell Oda loves studying manga fight scenes and wanted to create a world where he could push these concepts to the limit, and it's no wonder One Piece caught the eye of animators even before it was serialised by Toei)

You're probably already noticing how line of action also feeds into composition and silhouette when it comes to conveying movement in an image. Basically put, once you've isolated whatever action it is that you want to convey, the more visual clutter you can streamline away from that action, the stronger an impact that will have on the viewer. A firm line of action, an uncomplicated silhouette for your figure, and a readable overall composition of your image/panel are all ways to minimise visual clutter.

You can also use this information to achieve the opposite effect! Sometimes the ideal action you want to convey is not fast, or powerful, or confident, and you can use the same principles.

In fact, you can apply line of action to images that don't have any "action" in them at all. You can make a drawing of someone simply standing there feel more lively by applying these same principles to their body language:

You can develop an eye for how to simplify movement down to its "lines of action" by studying real photos and other people's art. Try simplifying a figure to its silhouette, and then simplify that silhouette further to a stick figure. And honestly, a lot of this could be boiled down to "see your image as a whole and not just a collection of individual pieces". Set anatomy aside during the composition stage and bring it back in when you start building up the sketch.

Moving away from the line of action, my second piece of broad advice is simply to exaggerate more. Lots of artists subconsciously hold themselves back from pushing motion, expression, etc. out of concern that it will look "too much". Well, maybe it will- but you won't know that unless you try! You can always walk it back if you think you took it too far, but I think you'll be surprised by how far you can push your art before you hit that point.

My final piece of advice is to work on line confidence. Even if you follow the rest of this advice, if you have hesitant and scratchy lines, you're undermining the flow and punch of your art. The best way to improve line confidence is simply by practicing! Do a lot of quick, timed studies, and use a permanent medium like a ballpoint pen or marker. Focus on unbroken lines wherever possible even if it makes your studies look like garbo. I find traditional studies are best for improving line confidence, but if you'd really rather stick with digital then just don't let yourself use the eraser tool, and try using a chunky brush with limited pressure sensitivity.

And that's it! Don't stress about it too much though. Loosen up with your art and, like any other skill, you'll improve with practice, time, and analysing what you like about other people's art. Good luck!

#long post #sorry this is so long I just didn't want to hide it behind a cut because I think a lot of people would miss it #I hope this was helpful in some way! I'm always flattered whenever anyone thinks I'd know enough to ask HAHA #if I have the time then I'm always happy to answer questions like this! :)#not that I am an expert by any means but I can at least share what's worked for me

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theflagscene · 5 months

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The hand rubbing scene is the gayest sex scene GMMtv has ever had on screen, allow me to explain to you why.

Gifs by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

Now I can’t speak as someone who is completely blind (obviously) but I can speak as someone who has been progressively losing their sight for the past 15 years - ironically enough from a car accident. Why hello Day, I see you! (pun intended) But I’m also a person who grew up HoH (hard of hearing) from the age of two years old onward, I had tubes put in my ears, wore hearing aids, the whole shebang. The chances of me actually regaining my ability to hear completely was very very slim, the fact that I did actually end up regaining some - not all - of my hearing by my late twenties was a damn shock to us all. The point being, when you are a person who’s lost one of your senses that you are used to having, your body starts to overcompensate.

Most everyone has heard/read/seen things about how removing one sense can lead to your other ones becoming stronger. There’s even been studies that show people born deaf or deafened at a very young age, that their brain starts to rewire itself to allow them to experience sound in a visual way, via touch. It’s sort of like how blind people learn to read braille in a way, the touch creates a picture in your mind allowing you to see the way that word looks and sounds and feels. Theres a whole bit in Scientific America you can check out if you want that breaks it down in layman terms without the writing acting like you’re stupid, which is always nice when it comes to medical jargon lol.

So my point that to Day, his sense of touch is not only in overdrive because it like much of the rest of his senses - smell seems to be a big one they’re leading with - are scambling to try and overcompensate for the sudden lack of sight that is getting worse as time passes. But because he had pulled away from basically the entire world post blindness setting in, spending the last year of his life in his room hardly interacting with anyone, his own mother and brother barely being allowed to touch him. That for Day, his sense of touch is absolutely frantic. Which is why it’s so important for Mhok to constantly place his hands on him, not only to help lead him back into the world but to allow Day to recognize him by touch alone. And it’s being shown that he is, Day already knows Mhok’s voice and it’s touched a bit on the way he smells (ciggs) but this last episode is really starting to show how the touch of people is starting to fully affect Day, especially when he’s out of the house and how Mhok is instantly recognized even though he always follows up his touch with a vocal confirmation that it is in fact him that is touching Day.

So that hand stroking scene, the way Mhok runs the pads of his fingers gently up the centre of Day’s palm, how he strokes the back of his hand like it’s a kitten. That right there could genuinely feel like sex to Day, if not sexual in manner at the very least. The fuzzy look Day gets in his eyes, going from blank, to blissful to bashful and then finally awkward. It wasn’t just because of the fact that the dude he lowkey is starting to have a crush on is rubbing his hand in what I’m seeing being called a ‘weirdly intimate way’. It’s because Day’s body and brain is reacting to that touch in a way that people with all five senses might not completely comprehend, imagine your most intense erogenous zone (btw the palms of the hands are occasionally considered one) now imagine if that intensity was ramped up by ten, or twenty or even fifty and then imagine that that erogenous zone was suddenly everywhere. The most innocuous part of your body could bring you the most incredible sensations, both sexual and emotional, that’s what Day is feeling.

Mhok, now Mhok, he’s not stupid. Far from it in fact, he’s clued in on that not only is Day queer but also that he has a bit of a crush on him. Mhok has also quickly adapted to how he needs to teach Day to see the world in a new way, hence all the touching and smelling and reinforcement that Day can in fact do things for himself, including asking for help when he needs it. So Mhok knew exactly what he was doing with the hand rubbing, sort of. Did he know the sensation would be heightened, my best bet is totally. But did he expect to have his reaction to it go beyond that of teasing? Given his own bashfulness, doubtful. When you’re dating someone with a loss of one or many senses, you tend to change your own preconceived notions of what intimacy with your partner is. For some people offering a foot rub to their partner is a clear come on, an offer for something to lead to more. But for a blind person, especially a newly blind person like Day. They use their hands to navigate their entire world - you literally read with your fingers - so a blind persons hands are basically their most important tools in a lot of ways. To have someone touch your hands with such care, such reverence, it’s not just intimate, it’s full on foreplay.

Mhok wasn’t just touching Day, he was touching Day. It was meant to be seen as intimate because it was intimate, so intimate, in a way I don’t think either Mhok nor Day were expecting it to be because neither had ever experienced something like that before. That scene was truly the beginning of their relationship shifting, that hand scene was kind of like their first kiss.

Gifs by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

#last twilight the series #mhokday #morkday #jimmysea #nontraditional intimacy #for real tho #JimmySea played that scene so freaking well #this entire show makes me happy #to have some sort of queer representation that I connect with so well #like Day I totally get you bb #also sorry for yanking your gifs Wanderlust #hope you don’t mind :)

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geekywritings · 1 year

Text

“Dance with me.”

Cal Kestis x reader

You convinced the crew to take a small break to attend a local festival for a much deserved downtime. Convincing a certain Jedi to dance with you is much harder, however. Or is it?

_____

„Dance with me.“

You had asked Cal to do a lot of crazy things. To explore unknown territories, to jump across impossibly wide canyons and to take down Imperial bases full of Stormtroopers. And never had he hesitated to say yes. Until now.

He looks at your outstretched hand and swallows hard. “I don’t think…”, he begins and instantly the smile on your face diminishes. As if sensing his discomfort about it, though, you are quick to pat his shoulder.

“No worries. It’s not for everyone.”, you assure him and disappear back into the dancing crowd, joining the masses as they jump, turn and just move around to the heavy beat of the drums.

“Why didn’t you join her?”, Cere asks when she returns with your drinks, clearly having witnessed the scene.

“I have no clue how to dance.”, Cal admits with a shrug. “It wasn’t exactly part of Jedi training.”

Cere chuckles. “It’s not like they are following specific steps.”

“That makes it even harder.”

Cal learned to let go of many things, but the Order and the lifestyle it had taught were also still deeply ingrained. There was always a given path or a pre-defined routine to stick to. This is far beyond his comfort zone. His new mentor stares at him for a few moments and suddenly says: “Time for a lesson.”

“What?”, the red-head asks, hand stopping mid-motion on its way to grab his cup.

“It’s time I teach you something beyond the Order’s knowledge. Stand.”

Slowly he follows, though confusion and hesitation are visible in every movement. Cere moves them into position and then tells him the steps. Easy ones. Basically like walking in a box.

“That’s it?” The surprise is thick in Cal's voice and clearly written all over his face.

“In a way, yes.”

They return to the table and Cal’s eyes slide back to you. Or to where you had been before. Apparently, you have danced your way deeper into the crowd and out of his sight. His attention is drawn back when Greeze shows up with food and he busies himself talking with his found family until his fellow Jedi's return.

You are out of breath, but smiling so brightly that Cal can't help but stare. Have you ever been more beautiful? Hair dishevelled, cheeks flushed and lips drawn into a permanent grin. “Ahh, this was so much fun.”, you sigh, dropping onto the empty seat next to Cal and pouring yourself a drink.

The conversation returns to Greeze’s new recipe ideas and plans on where to go next, while the surrounding festival seems to slow down. Soon, the music is soft and gentle, leaving mostly couples moving to the tune. Cere gives Cal a nudge under the table, motioning toward the marketplace behind you.

He knows what his mentor is asking, but the young man still finds himself swallowing hard. He can do this. He fought Darth Vader and came out alive. Surely, asking you to dance is easier than that.

“Y/N?”

You look up from your almost empty plate and Cal almost loses his voice again.

“Uhm… I know I said no before, but… do you wanna dance now?” Ok, that didn’t come across as confident as he would have liked, but at least the words HAD left him at all. First, he is met with a gasp and seconds later with that happy smile of yours again that gets his heart beating faster. “Yes, of course!”, you agree, instantly pushing your plate aside.

He offers you his hand, before leading you toward the dancing couples, trying to relax his body. He is good with remembering steps, so that's not the issue. But will he do it right? All negative thoughts slip away when you place one of his hands around your waist, before grasping the other one, your bodies pressed together.

With his mind pleasantly blank, Cal begins to move, the steps so much easier to do when he doesn't worry about making a mistake. All he can think of is how you feel in his arms, how happy you look at this moment and how badly he wants this to continue forever. The steps you are taking are slow, barely moving as you just sway to the slow melody. Nobody says a thing, but it is the most comfortable of silences.

Gently, Cal draws you even closer, your foreheads soon resting against each other as you continue the slow dance. “This is the best part of the festival.”, you whisper and Cal’s heart soars. “I didn’t even know you could dance.”

“I didn’t until today.”, he admits with a little grin.

“Well, then you are naturally talented.”, you compliment back, making his lips twitch upward even more.

There won't be many moments like this, you both know. It makes it all the more special amid the war and the constant danger.

“Thank you for taking me here. It means a lot to me.”, you speak again.

“Whatever makes you happy.”, he replies honestly and without hesitation.

Your eyes have this mischievous look in them again. The one that worries and excites the Jedi at the same time.

“Whatever makes me happy? Hmmm… maybe I should utter another wish then.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, expecting something crazy.

“Kiss me.”

Force, how he loves you. And even if you HAD asked for something crazy, he would have jumped into action right away. Everything to make you happy.

“As you wish.”, he whispers, before his lips met yours in a soft kiss. This is perfect. Who knew a dance could ever make you two this happy?

#cal kestis #cal kestis x yn #cal kestis x you #cal kestis x reader #jedi survivor

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rambheem-is-real · 2 months

Text

Cross My Heart Pt 3

pairing: varadeva

pt 2 here

surprise they're not dead

Varadha gently strokes down the side of Deva’s face with one hand, smiling at how peaceful Deva looks in his arms, using his other hand to shield Deva’s face from the rays of the sun. He briefly notices a few new wrinkles forming around Deva’s eyes, and can’t help the satisfaction that the sight causes him.

The movement stirs Deva into waking up from his nap. Varadha watches as Deva blinks a few times, adjusting to the brightness, then yawns. He can’t take it anymore, and drops a small kiss onto Deva’s greying hairline, shifting so he’s in Deva’s view.

“Na Kumbhakarnudi nidra aipoyinda? [Is my Kumbhakaranudu’s sleep over?]”

Deva rolls his eyes at him. “You were the one who told me to take a nap and now you insult me like this? What has this world come to?” Despite the words, his tone is light and teasing. Deva juts his chin forward, and Varadha obliges, leaning down for a proper kiss.

“Not just the nap,” Varadha laughs, when he eventually pulls back. “Who asked for a fourth dosa this morning? With extra karam podi? Now we’ve run out of your favorite podi, and I have to go to the market again.”

Deva just gives him that small smile of his, that Varadha adores so much, that Deva knows Varadha adores so much. “Not you complaining when we both know you love gossiping with the rava mill elders on your way back.”

Varadha shakes his head. “Caught. I’ll tell you all about what I learned when I come back home, then.”

“I’ll be waiting for it.”

He moves Deva off of himself, and lightly stretches before standing up. Deva watches from the ground, and Varadha smirks as he notices the glint in Deva’s eyes.

“See something you like?” he teases.

Deva’s face softens. “Something I love, actually,” he replies, and Varadha blushes.

“Alright, alright. Time to go back home, Amma will be waiting.”

Deva waits for a few seconds as Varadha comes back with the wheelchair, then holds his arms up so Varadha can lift him and place him in the seat of the wheelchair. Deva’s hands only shake slightly as he buckles himself up and maneuvers himself around to face the stone path leading out of the flower field. Varadha follows Deva along the path back home, the two of them continuing to bicker about the dosas.

Varadha had remembered the promise he made to Deva as kids, remembered vowing to take care of an injured Deva no matter how long it was in the future. And he had had no intention of breaking that promise.

In the years after the trial in Khansaar, Deva had slowly started to lose control of his muscles, to the point where Varadha had bought Deva a wheelchair for long distance travel, basically anything that wasn’t a few feet around the house. They had many accidents, as well. One time Deva’s hand was shaking too hard to hold the jar of ghee tightly, and he had dropped the jar on the floor, spilling the contents everywhere. Another time Deva tried to stand up too quickly from their bed and his legs gave out, knocking over a vase on the nightstand. Both times, he had whispered, “Sorry raa,” with a face so full of guilt it devastated Varadha. This Deva had grown up blaming himself for everything, internalizing that he would be nothing but a burden to those who loved and cared for him, and Varadha was determined to show Deva how wrong he was.

They reach home, still bickering, although now they’ve graduated to arguing over which condiment was best for idli, Deva disagreeing with Varadha on his preference for peanut chutney and extolling the virtues of a hot sambar.

Amma smiles at them as they enter the house, seemingly busy with grinding some powders on the floor. Her hair is thinning, almost entirely white, and she’s gained a stoop over the last few years. However, Varadha’s glad he gets to see Amma like this, to see her age naturally rather than stay as pristine and regal as she was in his childhood. He wants to make so many new memories with her and Deva.

Deva wheels himself to his and Varadha’s room, and Varadha follows. He parks the wheelchair at the side of the bed, and unbuckles himself. Varadha watches, on alert and ready to catch Deva if he falls, but Deva walks over to the bed easily enough, sighing as he sits down on the mattress. He looks up at Varadha sheepishly.

“I guess the fresh air did help, I feel better than I did this morning.”

Varadha smirks. “I told you, didn’t I?”

“Yes, yes, you’re always right,” Deva teases.

“I know that,” Varadha replies, grinning at Deva’s laugh.

He takes a moment to observe his husband. Deva’s face has become lined with wrinkles, and Varadha’s especially proud of the smile marks near his eyes. His hair is peppered through with streaks of gray, thinning near his temples, and his skin has softened. The old scars running across Deva’s shoulders and down his arms have faded to a dull brown. Varadha loves him so much, still thinks Deva is the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. He doesn’t know how he made it through those seven years without Deva, especially so soon after he had just gotten Deva back after twenty-five years of separation.

Varadha had hated him in the moment he had found Deva crouching near the body of his little brother, hands stained with Baachi’s blood. In a fit of grief, he had told Deva to leave, to never show his face again, and Deva, too horrified to argue and tell Varadha what had really happened, left Khansaar that day. In the next few years, Varadha had warred with both guilt and rage, and then later, confusion. The facts didn’t add up, why would Deva hurt Baachi of all people? Varadha had tried his best to forget Deva, tried to move on, but he knew deep down that the pain of losing Deva was even worse than Deva’s betrayal. And when Deva himself came back, seven years later? Varadha knew he had to find out what really happened that day. He stormed into the cell, looked at Deva sitting on the bench with his arms chained up, and demanded to know the truth. Deva had explained what happened, eyes closed, voice soft, and oh, Varadha really felt like a fool. Deva hadn’t hurt Baachi, that had been Bhaarava, who Deva had disposed of shortly after.

“Yedava [idiot],” Varadha had said, tears threatening to slip down his face. “Why didn’t you tell me when I yelled at you? When I assumed it had been you that killed my brother?”

Deva opened his eyes, not bothering to stop his own tears. “I promised you,” He had whispered. “I promised to protect Baachi, and I failed. I was too late, I was too slow, to stop Bhaarava’s blade.”

Varadha couldn’t hold himself back anymore, and embraced Deva, who buried his face into Varadha’s stomach, sobbing.

“I’m so sorry,” was the only thing Deva kept repeating, and Varadha could only shush him soothingly. His mind was racing, however. Deva was not responsible for Baachi’s death, he really was innocent. No way in hell was Varadha going to let his own men execute Deva now. He pulled back from Deva, just enough for Deva to rest his chin on Varadha’s chest, eyes full of misplaced guilt and grief.

Varadha stroked through Deva’s hair, thinking. He couldn’t not go through with the execution, Deva had in fact broken the seal and his own rule. He had sworn to be fair and responsible when he had assumed Khansaar’s throne, and he couldn’t go back on his own vows. But he couldn’t kill Deva either.

Oh.

“I have a plan. Will you come with me?” Varadha asked Deva.

Deva didn’t ask what this was about, didn’t raise any objections. “Anywhere,” he said, and Varadha felt the same overwhelming love he felt when Deva had chopped off Naarang’s head for him. Of course Deva would come with him, he would follow Varadha to the ends of the Earth if Varadha asked.

Varadha smiled down at Deva, who he could tell was getting increasingly confused at the shift in Varadha’s behavior, but he couldn’t help it. He really had missed Deva’s love.

“In a few minutes, Bilal is going to come down here. Listen to him, do whatever he tells you,” he had told Deva, before he walked out of the cells, thinking about the two executions he would be faking soon.

Varadha’s roused out of the memory when Deva pokes his chest. “Entra [what dude], what are we thinking about, so deeply right now?” Varadha allows Deva to pull him into his lap and wrap his arms around Varadha’s waist.

“Just Bilal, and the Khansaar I left behind.” Deva’s face softens, and Varadha knows he understands. Varadha had taken his duties as karta seriously, and Deva knew that Varadha often felt guilty for abandoning his people so suddenly.

“Do you want to visit?” he asks, but Varadha shakes his head, smiling.

“I have everything I need right here, why would I go back?” He kisses Deva’s brow, and then when Deva still looks guilty, the bridge of his nose. “How many times do I have to tell you raa, you have always been my first priority.”

Deva looks to the side. “If it hadn’t been for my condition, we could be in Khansaar right now. You could’ve worked something out about the seal, and you would’ve still been in the position you wanted so deeply. And I wouldn’t be useless right now.”

Varadha’s heart sinks. He knows there’s still a lot of work to be done, a lot of internalized thoughts Deva has to work through, and he has to remind himself to be patient. “Rey. Bujji. Bangaram,” he says, pulling Deva by the jaw to face Varadha again, noticing the faint blush on Deva’s cheeks from the nicknames. “I know you like to pretend you’re some Devadas, filled with so much love for me that you’re willing to do anything for me, but consider just once that it goes the other way as well. And you’re not useless. I’m here because I care for you, and I’m going to stay with you until the end.” He leans in to kiss Deva’s lips, pushing all the affection he can muster into the kiss.

They stay together for a few moments, and then Deva pulls back first, sighing. “I know you love me, you’ve told me many times. But..”

“You’re not able to believe it,” Varadha finishes. Deva nods, frustrated. “Well, we still have a few more decades to go, ‘till death do us part’ and all that.” They both grin at each other at the memory of their elopement, and the chaotic way they had gotten married, mixing traditions from around the world as neither of them felt religious enough to do the standard Hindu wedding. “I’ll get through to you one day.”

It’s Deva that initiates the kiss this time, and deepens it as well. Varadha moans as Deva licks inside his mouth, and feels the familiar heat stir up in his groin. It’s when Deva’s fingers snake inside Varadha’s kurta, feeling their way around his waist and up his back, when Varadha remembers he has a job to do. Sighing internally, he pulls back, placing a finger on Deva’s lips when he chases Varadha instinctively.

“Podi, remember?” Deva pouts, but lets go of Varadha, who stands up. “I’ll be back soon raa.”

“No you won’t, you’ll spend ten minutes talking to the elders on your way back,” Deva teases, and gets flicked for that. Laughing, Varadha makes his way out of the room, running into Amma.

“I’ll be going to the market for the podi, Amma,” he tells her.

She frowns, thinking. “I think we’re out of curry leaves as well. Could you get some of those as well?”

“Of course, Amma.”

During dinner, as he waves Amma off from serving them both, volunteering to do it instead, then playfully stealing the last appalam off Deva’s plate and hiding behind Amma so Deva can’t reach him, Varadha thinks everything he had gone through was worth it if it ended like this. He’s never felt as happy after the Shouryanga massacre as he does now, always stuck in survival mode or suffering from the weight of his responsibilities. As he looks at Deva pouting at Amma, saying how unfair it was that Varadha got to take his appalam, that he was taking advantage of a disabled man, and Amma hiding her smile at her son’s antics, Varadha’s only regret is that the remaining members of their family couldn’t be here today.

Amma would have loved to spoil Baachi, he thinks. Dhaara would have adored his brother as well, probably taking him for piggyback rides the way he had done with a young Varadha. He swallows, suddenly feeling the decades old grief return. I hope they both are happy, wherever they are, Varadha thinks, sending a prayer to whatever cosmic entity might be listening.

Amma notices Varadha’s silence, and tuts. “Oh, is the pappu not good? Is it too spicy again?”

Varadha just shakes his head. He knows there are tears in his eyes when he replies, “It’s perfect, Amma.”

Amma seems to understand who Varadha is thinking of, and pats his head, smoothing the hair back. “I miss him too, kanna [little one]. But I’m glad you both are with me now.” She sends a loving look to Deva, who, even after a few years of reconciling with his mother, looks surprised at the affection. “My two sons, back with me.”

Later that night, he carries Deva back to their room, tucking him in and getting into bed as well.

“-so it turns out he wasn’t having an affair at all, he just lost a fight with a cat and wasn’t about to admit to the scars being from the cat,” Varadha finishes telling Deva all the gossip the elders had told him.

Deva laughs. “Cats are fearsome creatures, I don’t know why he’s pretending like his ego is bruised or something.”

“Exactly. Now his wife left him and his kids hate him.”

Deva makes a sympathetic sound, but continues. “Well, it’s his fault that both of those happened.”

“Speaking of little animals…” It’s mostly dark in the room, but Varadha shifts so his face is illuminated by the few orange rays of light coming through the window, and makes his eyes wide as possible. He knows how irresistible Deva finds the cute act on him, and makes sure to turn up the pout to an extreme. “We should get that dog we were talking about.”

Deva blinks at him, clearly disarmed. “The dog you wanted when you were six?”

“Yep. You said we could have one when we were older and living together. Now we’re older and are living together. What’s stopping us?”

Deva sighs, but Varadha can make out the faint smile, and smirks. His act had worked. “Alright, you can go to the pet store tomorrow and pick out whatever dog you want,” Deva says. “Now come here so I can spoon you.”

“You’re too hot, I always wake up sweaty,” Varadha whines, but they both know it’s an empty complaint as Varadha immediately turns to let Deva cuddle his back.

“You love it though,” a sleepy Deva mumbles. “Cause you love me.” Varadha stills, but a few minutes later all he can hear is Deva’s snores. He smiles as he closes his eyes as well. Well that was progress, he thinks, as he falls asleep.

tagging those who interacted with pt 2: @coolsoundingusername @recentinterest @stuckyandlarrystuff @illusions-of-serendipity

#salaar #varadeva #salaar fic

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truetogaia · 1 year

Text

Jake Sully Headcanons

∘◦❀◦∘ Because Jake brainrot.

Some shitty headcanons I threw together bc I'm facing a devastating case of writers block, please be patient with me </3 You can literally track when i’m losing motivation bc they get gradually worse STOP I WROTE IT IN ONE SITTING

❀

Heads up! There are explicit and mature themes below the cut, but only after the sfw ones have been listed ✮

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ SFW

Love languages, etc.

❦ He is so extremely loving and caring because he pined and longed for you for such a long time before he caught your eye. During late nights, he showers your figure, cuddled up in his warm embrace, with kisses and praise, his tender heart melting at the sight of that adorable smile adorning your features.

❦ I believe his love language is physical touch, pretty basic but he just loves feeling the plush of your skin against the rough of his overworked hands. He finds so much comfort in your tight hugs after a particularly rough day, or hunt, relishing in the way he drowns in your gentle, but sweet scent.

❦ He is a jealous man, a human trait that seems to have followed in the mix n’ matching and transfer of DNA. Any male who dares cast a glance in your direction is immediately met with the cold, piercing gaze of Jake. He loves using his tail to wrap around you, anywhere he can, around your thigh, your arm, your waist. Anywhere visible so he can publicly show off your relationship and remind any male omaticaya that you are, in fact, his. He also likes leaving marks on you in the form of hickeys, or something more innocent like a handcrafted bracelet or hairpiece.

❦ Jake usually occupies the role of big spoon, but occasionally he also enjoys being held. The feeling of your arms wrapped around his bigger frame, your hands dancing through his braids while he rests his heavy head on top of your soft chest. He likes hearing your steady heartbeat in his ears, reassuring him that this is real, that you are real.

❦ Jake Sully is a proud "purrer". He finds no shame in showing his partner how much he enjoys their presence, in private of course. The gentle purrs emitting from his broad chest are so soft, that they lull you into a deep, comfortable sleep.

❦ He can’t really do his braids on his own, so he relies heavily on your skills to fix his mess of hair. He is prone to getting knots in his hair, mostly because of the amount of hunts he leads and participates in, but you don’t mind, tirelessly working through his messy hair. It is a sign of love after all.

❦ He is decent at cooking, his food is never astonishingly good or anything like that, but you get by when he cooks too. Although he prefers your food, he will never protest if you’re too tired and ask him to cook.

❦ If you’re sick, he makes sure you stay in bed. He basically sprints to the clan’s tsahik, urging her to dismiss her other patients to go check on you. If the “diagnosis” is too mild for her to treat, he will stay home all day and make you herbal soups, check your temperature with his palm, and cuddle your shuddering form until you can’t breathe!!

❦ Now if he is sick, expect to be under house arrest for as long as he snivels. He is such a manbaby, constantly whining about his cold. But he is your manbaby, and how can you say no to such a face when all he really asks for is for you to be in his arms, hm?

❦ He upholds a tradition of “monthly date nights”. You don’t really get the concept of it, no matter how many times he explains it to you, but you go along with it anyway. It’s nice, spending time with him alone, away from the constant noises of the clan. He usually takes you to special places he has found during hunts and such, always setting up a mat and food. He describes it as a.. “Picnic”, whatever that is.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ NSFW

❦ Dear, dear reader. You went on a date with Jake Sully? And you expect the night to end after you’ve finished eating or doing the activity? Oh no, he has a lot more planned. This man has quite the sex drive, not high above average, but just above the mark. But can you blame him, the way your “clothes” fit so snugly around your perfect figure, or the way you look up at him, with those big, sparkling doe eyes. He can’t help it, he needs to sink into the warmth of your cunt as soon as you guys get home again ♡

❦ This man is packing!!! Look at him, how could he not!! His package is bigger than the average omaticaya, probably a result of the lab made DNA. He really isn’t built like other omaticaya, he is much bigger in muscle mass, brawnier, so obviously he will be bigger in other places too.

❦ It’s more long than girthy, there is still some girth but not more than average. He has a big, purple vein running up the shaft, splitting in two right before it reaches the head. The tip is big, mushroom shaped and bulbous, it hits all the right spots each time. Fat b*lls that's all i'm gonna say.

❦ My man has a tongue blessed by god. He is so skilled with it, basically making you come undone in what, minus two minutes. And he loves doing it, he is a giver

❦ BUT ALSO A RECEIVER!!! Jake loves a good head, he loves it. He lowkey adores the idea of being worshiped in a way, but he would never admit it, not even to himself. What reveals his secret though, are the loud moans and whimpers that, unbeknownst to him, seep out of him as soon as your warm, wet mouth closes around his length.

Anyway he is just a big cuddly kitty catboy and I love him ♡

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silverflqmes · 3 months

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Can i submit a request?

I was thinking a yelan x fem reader where the reader gets injured and almost dies, while yelan is terrified that she could lose the person she holds most dear. basically her being super protective and sweet to reader after finding out what happened.

໒⦂ 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐒.

notes. hello anon, i hope this is what you were looking for! yelan is so mother istg and the “who hurt you” is giving so hard.. please enjoy, super sorry for the delay!

genre. hurt + comfort

tw. descriptions of blood, wounds & violence; mentions of death, slightly ooc yelan ( being vulnerable )

yelan x fem!reader.

a trail of crimson followed your descend towards the steps leading into liyue harbor, eyes barely half lidded.

your skin had been torn from blades, bruises littering your skin in every possible hue a mark could take on, as the pressing urge to just let go of it all increased with each movement you took on.

the life was leaving your body rapidly, you could practically feel it inside you, slamming on the wounds and bruises in the form of blood to flee into the after life. a release from the agony left behind from a fatui attack you just so happened to be the target of.

why you, of all people, had been targeted, you weren’t all too sure of.. but something told you it might have been because of a relationship you had — or rather, the very person you were with.

the enigma of liyue’s qixing, yelan.

otherwise, the only reason you hadn’t dropped dead already.

as you closed in on the yanshang teahouse, a breath of relief nearly left your lips. you’d made it back alive — not in the best shape, but alive nonetheless.

it was after hours, but yelan would always come for a few gambles, wine and a good release from the work she conducted in.

guilt poured into you, the realization dawning that her relaxation time would be sullied with this mess you’d made of yourself. something that could have easily been avoided, had you known basic self defense.

pain shot through your thigh as you bit the inside of your cheek to quell your cries, raising a shaky hand to open the door.

laughter could be heard on the other side, a bit louder than it should have been. was it your ears ringing, or was someone there?

nevertheless, you threw your weight into the door to help push it open, panting quietly as your legs carried you through the doorway.

hearing the thud, yelan was quick to turn her head at the perk of ears, freezing in place at the sight of you.

the tremor in her heart was like an earth shattering quake, unlike anything she’d ever felt before. like her world had been torn apart right in front of her eyes as she jumped out of her seat and lunged for your battered self.

her arms were swift to prevent you from colliding with the hardwood flooring, feeling your body tremble from the loss of blood. how long had you been outside? with pursed lips, the hydro archer threw her coat around you that she’d stolen once as revenge against the fatui harbinger, regrator.

for the moment, it didn’t matter if the snow colored jacket was stained with crimson. nor the expensive outfit she wore as she cradled your frigid body close to hers.

that was the effect you had on her. your well being easily blurred everything, as the care she had for you ran deep- deeper than any ocean, cavern or abyss could.

sensing the change in atmosphere, wenyuan and shanghuam — yelan’s trusted assistsnts, ushered any remaining players and guests out of the teahouse to the rooftop. it was for the best that their boss was given the necessary time to tend to her lover without her usual front.

grateful for the silence, yelan touched your cheek with her hand, pursing her lips together in worry. “who did this to you?” she inquired barely above a whisper, the aloof mask she carried day to day falling, crumbling to reveal a face of quiet rage. “tell me so i know whose lives to silence tonight.”

with a small cough, you leaned your head in her neck, squeezing your eyes shut. “f-fatui.. but they’re gone now.” you breathed out, iron tainting your tastebuds. “they said it was the response of the n-ninth harbinger, in regards to your revenge on him.” came your broken whisper, tears spilling through your lashes.

if you hadn’t been her girlfriend, you wouldn’t have troubled her like this on a night where she was finally enjoying and indulging in herself. all because her foolish, feeble lover couldn’t fight off a hoard of fatui and defend the honor of her partner.

somehow it made the physical pain you felt almost menial in comparison to the clenching and squeezing at your heart — the most vital organ you possessed. the one you had given to the person you most cherished. “i-i’m so sorry, i wasn’t able to defend your reputation- it’s all because i wanted us to be open — n-now the wrong people found out..!”

yelan found herself frowning as the apologies continued to spill out of your trembling, rouge stained lips. were you even hearing yourself and what you were saying? probably not, caught up in your panic as you were.

“y/n,” yelan called over your cries, tracing her thumb over your eyelids. “none of this is your fault, and you wanting us to be known to the public as a couple is okay. i would’ve rejected the idea the minute you posed it if it wasn’t.” she assured you a little more calmly this time, allowing her hand to rest on your cheek. “it’s my fault for not being able to dispose of them all. guess some manage to escape underneath my nose and you were charged with the price of my carelessness.” she shut her eyes, lowering her forehead to yours.

“i’m so sorry..” yelan muttered out, the apology almost foreign on her tongue. “i wasn’t there to protect you when you needed me most — archons,” she shook her head, willing her voice to keep from quivering. “i-i don’t know what i would have done if you weren’t able to make it back here.. if the worst had happened-” the teahouse owner forced herself not to finish her sentence, knowing it would indefinitely tear down the strong front she carried. she had been your rock after all, and you were dying in her arms.. there was no luxury for her to crumple and break down.

“please don’t blame yourself for my lack of self awareness and defense..” you pleaded quietly, raising a scarred hand to her cheek. “i’m here- i tried my best to come back.. and be here.” your throat cleared, eyes cracking open to meet her gaze. “i-i thought i could at least do one thing right by making it back to you. i hope.. that it was enough.”

your eyes were barely keeping open, the exhaustion consuming you — which was expected. bleeding out, bruised, and sore as you were, it wasn’t easy walking the trek that you did back to the harbor.

yelan understood that, and only held you closer. “it’s more than enough. so much more than just enough. it’s just so hard not to blame myself for you being hurt by them.. it was their sick method of seeking revenge on me.” she finished lowly, loosing a breath she’d been holding onto. “it’s taking all of me right now not to hunt the lot of them down and fill the grass with a pool of their blood.” they would count themselves lucky for tonight, as your health was a more pressing matter.

watching your eyes flutter closed, the intelligence agent leaned in to peck your lips gently before rising with you in her arms.

the journey had zapped every ounce of your energy, but she was proud of you for coming back to her, regardless of the state you had shown up in.

“thank you for coming home to me, y/n.. i don’t know what i would have done if you hadn’t.”

notes. sorry, the ending is a little rushed, but i’m hoping i was able to fulfill your request somewhat..?

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

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