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kneelingshadowsalome · 5 months

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Christian Woman

(König x Nun!Reader)

Word count: 6.4 k Tags/warnings: Pining intensifies, religious despair intensifies, minor injuries, treatment of wounds, crying, enthusiastic kissing, König gets a few boners. 18+ for eventual smut in this story.

A/N: Don't tell me you wouldn't get horny scared too if you saw this tall guy suddenly emerging from the shadows in his full war gear :) There's a cute date night and a lot of angst in this chapter too, I tried to summon an actual plot here... As always, I need to explain why they’re bonking! But smut is coming, next and last chapter will be full of fluff and steamy first times (Reader is virgin!)

Part 2

You have a feeling that this is the last day you’ll see him.

The stranger from the Austrian Alps, the kindest mercenary you’ve ever met – the only mercenary you’ve ever met – the giant soldier who now carries a piece of your heart with him. You wonder if he even knows he owns it.

The morning prayers and mass are a chore and bring you no comfort, and the usual dawn bliss is gone. You find no delight in singing with your sisters, and withdrawing to your cell for solitary prayer feels like stepping back inside your own personal purgatory.

You’ve been in heaven and in hell for days now. Maybe since the moment you met him...

But at the same time, you know it must’ve been the Lord who brought you together. There must be a reason for God to make you two meet, you refuse to think it’s only because He wishes to tempt you. There must be a bigger plan; the connection, as sinful and carnal as it is, has to serve some higher purpose.

And you wonder if you’re going mad, because your most sinful thought is that you actually see God in him. It’s just your lower instincts speaking, a demon of some sort that tries to misguide you because no man is like Lord Jesus.

And yet, don’t they always preach that you meet Him in every person you meet? And that through you, other people meet God too…?

This reasoning feels much better. It solidifies the mercy you’ve longed for during the brief weeks you’ve known this man who brashly calls himself König. You want to believe that he carries a spark of the Divine in him, and that you hold a grain of the Virgin Mary’s compassion and love in you.

You decide to hold on to this thought: that you were meant to meet so that you could come to know God through each other. For in König, you see a suffering God, a crucified Christ who rises against evil by offering himself to the cruelty of men. Somehow, the image of him as a mortal man starts to twist into a divine, dark trooper, someone who battles the forces of the evil in this world.

And this reasoning leads you to think that it is only natural that you, a Sister of the Faith, have helped him find some rest and relief in the middle of his work. It’s pretty clear that König has found some solace in your company, and even if things have ventured into a forbidden area of low, simple lust, it’s not dark enough to taint the beauty and grace you've felt together. As long as you hold on to this purity, nothing can go wrong.

While praying for both of you that morning, you find yourself replaying the smiles and touches König has given you these past weeks. You know you will drown yourself in memories after he's gone because they are all you’ll ever have of him.

And they're more than enough.

Or at least they should be…

You feel a tiny dagger of guilt push into your heart, the place reserved for Christ, when you’re assigned to do some spiritual reading instead of helping out in the kitchen or organizing the small library. The appointed texts are about falling into temptation and sin, reminding you about the consequences of such actions. You read the passings with a heavy heart and then slip out to meet König, possibly for the last time.

You wear your everyday clothes to the café, and König says nothing about your sudden moral choice, only gives you another longing, enamored once-over. You keep him at arm’s length, both physically and emotionally, and the effects of this unexpected cold shower are immediate. The man doesn’t even try to disguise the sad, puppy-eyed stares he shoots your way.

You hate it that the bright, playful air of your meetings is gone, and your heart is tearing itself apart in your chest because the only thing you wanted was to spread joy into his world. Even the Lord seems disappointed in you being so cold-hearted, and you can’t bear to see His sadness and suffering in König’s eyes.

You get offered not one, but two coffees today, and a large piece of dark chocolate cake that tastes of pure sin. He talks about how he would love to write to you, but you tell him you can’t be in correspondence with a man who isn’t your brother or father. König isn’t even married, so it would only raise questions – you would find yourself reading spiritual texts about lust and sin until it drives you crazy.

“I’m leaving early tomorrow,” he finally reveals with a voice thick with sorrow. “Can I see you before I go...? One last time?”

“I’d love to, but… I’m sort of being watched,” you say, slowly coming out of your shell to make it clear that you’d want to spend the rest of your life with him, but you simply just can’t.

Your weak, apologetic look is like a dose of confidence shot through his veins because the face opposite of you brightens immediately. König’s whole posture gets a hopeful uplift.

“Just for a little walk...? To see what the city looks like in the evening?”

“I don’t know if I can make it… I have to work until six... And attend the evening prayer at seven. And then silence starts at eight…”

You’re wringing your hands under the table while you explain, hoping König will come up with a solution to this dilemma.

“We can go for a walk after silence, then,” he shrugs.

“I–I can’t just escape from the window.”

“...Why not?”

You look at König; he looks straight back.

The man’s serious about you sneaking out your window at night; he’s actually serious, even if there’s a dark, playful smile rising on his lips.

“I can help,” he grins.

Your heart cracks open, it shoots full of light only more and more with that smile. König doesn’t need to ram a door down and shoot his way through your chest; all he has to do is sneak inside your heart and take the place that belongs to God. You don’t even feel the difference as he makes himself at home.

Well, actually, you do... It’s like your Christ’s love and mercy have finally come to flesh and blood before you. They're materialized in the man sitting opposite of you, bouncing his knee excitedly and grinning like the most innocent little devil on Earth.

You find yourself whispering “Ok”, and the whole world shifts.

You take a step towards something forbidden but great, your whole heart starts to sing along with life. You haven’t even done the actual thing yet but you’re already filled with bubbling laughter and excitement. If only your friend could see you now, about to do things she probably did when she was fifteen...

But everything feels so right that it can’t be a sin – if it is, it just so happens to be the most natural, most divine thing to do too.

If this is the last day you’ll ever see him, you can surely steal a tiny moment for yourself and forget about rights and wrongs for a moment. Just forget about the rules, and live in the actual world for a few hours, breathe the worldly air, see what normal people do and pretend you’re one of them, for just one night.

…

You feel like Cinderella when picking clothes for the evening.

You rummage through the only closet in your room – during the time that should be spent in silent prayer before bed – and notice you still have your old jeans.

They’re light blue and still fit; actually, they fit more than well... You know that König’s eyes will be glued to your butt when you’re not looking.

You have completely forgotten how nice you look in jeans, and it’s the Devil talking, making you admire yourself in tight denim like this. You never cared about how you look before; you certainly never gave much thought to how men see you or if they’re checking out your butt or breasts. Now you’re grooming yourself like never before, trying to decide what to do with your hair as if your life depended on it.

You choose a simple, black t-shirt to pair with the jeans and not make it too obvious that you’re trying to flaunt yourself. It hugs your form but is otherwise plain, and for some people, your choice of clothing is probably their regular work outfit. To you, it feels like you’re about to go out to seduce everyone.

Everything’s so tight and earthly; everything’s so… there. Visible... Touchable.

Lord, have mercy on me. I know I’m weak. But please let me have this, just this once…

And König has seen you without makeup all this time, so what on earth has possessed you to lament the fact that you don’t own a single case of lipstick? You’d kill for a few sweeps of mascara, too, just to bat your lashes at a silly man.

It’s not a date, you remind yourself.

It’s not a date... It’s not a date. You’re just going to have a short walk with him.

And you fear that accepting König’s “help” was a mistake. If you get caught with a man on the convent perimeter, you’ll get your ass thoroughly whooped…

Can a man of his size even keep quiet?

He probably suggested it so that you wouldn’t chicken out of this. If König is at your window by 8 and there’s no sign of you, he’ll probably just come in, throw you on his shoulder and jump out. He knows where your window is located now, and surely has some questionable skills due to his profession, skills you know nothing about, but you’re still about to have a panic attack from pure excitement when the clock strikes 8.

You push the window ajar and settle on the sill to keep watch, gasping when you hear his familiar accent down below as soon as the window is open.

“Kätzchen...”

“König…?”

You peek down and meet his stupid, grinning face – God, he’s so happy to see you kept your promise. His eyes are shining, his fingers interlock to help you have something to place your foot on.

“Here, kitty, kitty…”

You could easily jump out the window without hurting yourself, but of course he wants to help you since you were so kind to tell him where he could come and "pick you up".

But to see that playful smile and hear him trying to coax you out like you’re some skittish little kitten…

Could a grown man get any more silly?

You wiggle yourself out the window, trying to ignore the fact that he’s probably staring at your butt, still grinning like crazy while you do it.

SupportING your entire weight like it’s no trouble at all, he helps you down. You’ve never been this close to him since you bumped into him: you have to take support from his shoulders as you search for a footing, and he scoops you in his arms the minute both your feet are safely on the ground.

“I knew you’d come,” he purrs with joy, and you place your hands on his chest – not to keep him at bay, but to touch him in a way that is as appropriate as possible when a man is hugging you like this.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you whisper, still unsure if this is the best or the worst decision of your entire life.

“Kitty… Live a little, hmm?”

You have to crane your neck to look up at him – you’re not sure if you’re in the embrace of Jesus or Lucifer because the warmth of those eyes compare to the love of God, but they also make you weak and helpless. Whenever you’re with your sisters, the feeling is pure, pristine love, not a surge of complex emotions and thrill like it is with König.

“You’re a bad influence,” you breathe – König only laughs, and the grip around you tightens.

“My lady. You’re the one who climbed out the window.”

“Because someone would’ve probably thrown small rocks on it if I hadn’t…!”

“Natürlich. And if that didn’t work… A serenade or two. Do you like love songs?”

You look down at his chest, smiling, heart fluttering at the thought of a silly Austrian man serenading under your window. You have no trouble imagining him singing something syrupy in German, waking everyone up with his racket.

“You’re crazy, did you know that...?”

“Sure. They tell me that all the time at work. Aber du… Du bist süss.”

“...What’s that?”

His smile only widens as he takes in your lips, your neck, the tight shirt that finally gives him something more to look at.

“You’re cute.”

…

The whole evening is heavenly.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted from a date and more.

He doesn’t take you for a short walk, oh no. He takes you out to eat, at some lively restaurant where they serve delicious, artisan, wood-fired pizzas. You have créme brûlée for dessert, and König gives you his strawberries when he notices you eat them first, but only on one condition: you have to let him feed them to you one by one.

He buys you a rose: a big, red, plump one. No man has ever bought you flowers before, and even if you love lush, abundant bouquets, the fact that he chose you a single red rose after you’ve spoken about the beauty of simplicity, doesn't escape you.

König hasn’t only listened to you these past few weeks: he gets you. And how symbolic is it that he chose a rose that’s also tied to all the mysteries of God?

You walk the streets with a flower in one hand and his palm in the other. It's a holy trinity of him and you and the Great Mystery, it’s passion and it’s thorns, it’s blood and beauty and pain, and you feel like he just gets you; he knows you through and through.

You pass by an outdoor bar with live music, and the place is so crowded that people are dancing on the streets. No cars honk as they slowly pass by the scene, the music and the laughing, dancing pairs make even the grumpiest passersby smile.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that König pulls you to him before you get to escape the scene. You’re drawn flush against his chest, hips colliding with his, hands finding each other in a slow sway that has never even seen the steps of Latin dances.

“Nuns are allowed to dance, no?”

He smiles dreamily, enveloped in the same sweet haze as you.

“Not with a man,” you correct, but don’t even bother to push him away. Instead, you let König guide his hand down your waist and draw you closer. If this isn't a date, you don't know what is...

“I can take the blame,” he says. “You can tell everybody it was me.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” you laugh.

“Why not?”

His eyes are glued to yours, making you warm all over, so much so that you feel like you’re burning from the neck up. You guide your stare down to his chest, then over to the quick heartbeat on his neck.

He's nervous, too... Your cruel soldier is nervous, and kind, and shy because he's pressed against you.

You rest your head there on his chest, watching the golden sunset far away, painting the rooftops with a genial glow. Your heart is made of molten gold, too, as you allow yourself find a home in his embrace.

“I can take your sins,” he promises above you. “Jesus did that too, right?”

“You’re not Jesus,” you smile against his shirt – black, always black...

“Are you sure? I would go to hell for you.”

Your dance comes to a halt as you swallow and lift your gaze. The smiles are gone now, both yours and his. He’s so close now he could touch your lips with his if he wanted to.

And he does want to.

You don’t shy away as he leans down to kiss you. It’s chaste at first, a slow exploration, but then he opens your mouth with his, demanding, hot, intoxicating. You melt in his arms, and he somehow supports you through it all, turning the dance into an embrace and the decent little kiss into a full French one.

It’s hot and wet and slow, so, so passionate that your knees are about to give in. You devour him back, feel how he grows hard against your stomach – the swelling erection makes you dizzy before you come to your senses, but only barely.

You break away an inch, panting into his mouth while he’s panting into yours. What a blessing that you don’t own any lipstick; both of your lips are red without it…

“This is–”

“Inappropriate?”

His voice is husky, and sends a flood of wetness down between your legs. Your heart is racing, but you can’t even note how terribly alive you are before he attacks your lips again.

The kiss is even more desperate than the first one, and the slow urgency is gone. His mouth leaves you without air, and then – he wraps his arms around you and picks you up from the ground like you weigh nothing. Your hands get squished somewhere between you, naturally coming to cup his face as you kiss him back.

It’s eager, pure lust, so powerful and needy that it scorches through your chest and ties your heartstrings into tight little knots, makes your brows knit together, too.

He grunts into your mouth, sensing you’re more than up for this after all. You let him see the full depth of your hunger and your lust, just waiting to be released and taken – made love to until you’re both sore and messy and limp.

God… This is better than God…

You hear whistles and whoos in the distance, some men yelling, “Let’s go!” and “Get a room” while they pass by. Realizing you’ve fallen into a dream trap of strong arms and needy lips about to depart tomorrow, you know it's something you could have had years ago, perhaps, but not anymore. You'll lose everything if you break your vows tonight: basically, you’ve already broken them, but no permanent damage has been done.

You can still turn back if you turn back now…

You push yourself away, push him away, heart clenching when you see his adoring, love-drunk, half-lidded stare.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, fighting back tears as you come down from your high. “I just–I can’t…”

He breathes labouriously, still clutching you against him, holding you in the air like you’re the thing he has searched for his entire life and now, finally discovered… Only to be told that he now has to put it back where he found it.

You’re crying by the time he sets you down, and you have no heart or will to pull away. Instead, you bury your face in his chest and cry your fill in his shirt. It’s soon damp from your tears as König hugs and supports you through his own stoic heartbreak.

“I’m sorry... I’m sorry…”

You repeat it until you can’t repeat it anymore, bawling in his chest while the world around you continues to spin despite your heaven and hell, despite your vows, despite your stupid devotion. The world revolves like it always has, as you choose a crucified man over the one who’s flesh and blood and holds you through your pain.

“Kätzchen, don’t cry,” he pets your hair while you sniffle and tremble in his embrace. You know this is not the last time you will cry your heart out over him, but knowing it doesn't help you when he offers you his last, bittersweet comfort.

“It was a good dream while it lasted...”

…

The rose withers in your cell.

You turn it upside down and tie it to the curtain rod to prevent it from dropping its petals. It dries beautifully and keeps its bloodred colour, now reminding you of both Jesus and him.

There hasn’t been a word from König in months, and of course there hasn’t. You denied his wish to write you, and the dried rose is the only thing left of your time with him.

In the first weeks, it’s hard to keep up a charade. You show up to prayer, work and mass with red eyes, revealing to everyone that you’re going through a loss of some sort. Somewhere during the first week, the abbess summons you to meet her and you brace yourself for a scolding.

God knows you don’t need the rebuke, and when you close the door and turn to face the symbolic mother of the convent, you end up breaking into tears right in front of her.

“Whatever you were up to, my child, I am glad that it is over now,” she says with all the gentleness of the world.

“Me too,” your voice breaks, and when the abbess extends her hands, you go to her, fall to your knees, and have another heartwrenching cry with your face in her lap.

You’ve denied yourself love and mercy for days, expecting to be expelled or shamed or ridiculed, but mercy is what you’re offered now, even after you’ve sinned.

The abbess caresses your hair just as softly as König did just days ago, and the fact that her kind gesture reminds you of some silly, infatuated soldier, only makes the breakdown worse. You bawl like a little child who’s deprived of candy, and you don’t even have the strength to berate yourself for it.

“I hope you haven’t done anything irredeemable...?”

“No... Nothing happened,” you sob and look out of the rose window, desperate for sun while your head rests on a gentle but distant lap.

Nothing happened except the most sinful, beautiful, lustful kiss of your life... Nothing happened except that you saw this man every time you could, held hands with him, swam in his smiles and affection, and went to bed with thoughts inappropriate for any human being.

“The world tests us in many ways... But Lord never tests us. He only loves us.”

Something in that sentence finally quenches the neverending flow of tears. Your muscles start to relax, and you remember that this is the eternal truth: to surrender, over and over again, to a power far greater than you.

The abbess never asks for details about what you have done. She never tells you you have sinned; you don’t need to be told that. The punishment has been dealt already: whoever ties herself to this world and its temptations will suffer exactly like this when the passion and excitement ends. The key to escaping its grip is to simply let go first, once and for all, surrender to the love of God, and trust that everything fill fall into place eventually.

“You must offer your mind and body to work now,” the motherly voice speaks above you. “Work, time and prayer will ease your pain.”

…

Work, time and prayer do ease the pain.

They ease all pains, but it takes almost six months to stop thinking about him every hour of every day.

You’re proud of yourself when you find out one day that you haven’t thought about him at all. He just now crossed your mind when you remember how he used to smell: of salty seabreeze mixed with intoxicating musk, the scent of excitement and safety all in one.

You could almost swear you catch a whiff of that particular scent in the yard when you go and water the flowers one evening, but it can’t be: he’s gone, and there’s nothing you can do about it, nothing you even want to do about it because you already made your choice. This path leads you to greater peace of mind in the long run, and you know you made the right decision even if it hurt you and König.

Sunsets still remind you of him, the colour of rose and gold mixed with endings, but the memories are now laced with bittersweet love rather than blunt despair and pain. The times you spent with him are a collection of brief, blissful moments, and you treasure every single one of them in your heart. You still pray for him, not every day, but nearly every day. You touch the rose when the hurt reaches its peak, but the last time you did that was almost a week ago.

And you thought you had forgotten his scent, but apparently, you have not. In fact, it seems to drift to your nose again, which is odd because you’re outside, after all…

“Kätzchen.”

A whisper is hissed from the shadows just as you’re about to straighten and investigate, because either you’re going crazy or then there’s someone here who smells exactly like him.

You startle and almost drop the watering can, staring straight into the shadows under your window. The tallest man you’ve ever seen steps out from the dark in full combat gear, and while you can’t see his face because it’s covered with a draping black hood, you recognize it’s him simply from the way he moves.

“Don’t be afraid. It’s me,” he rasps and tries to straighten from the slightly hunched position he’s in, but immediately falls back, then slants to lean on the wall. His gear is dirty, and he holds the side of his stomach with one hand, the lively blue eyes either drunk or very very tired.

“Dear God… What happened to you?”

You abandon the watering can and rush to him; it’s useless to ask if he’s injured when, clearly, he’s trying to prevent himself from slumping to the ground.

He’s enormous and intimidating even when wounded, a soldier loaded with ammo and weapons and protective paddings and guards, wearing a hood and a helmet and a radio of some sort, his tactical gloves bloody and eyes droopy. The weapon by his side is almost half as tall as you, and God – is that a grenade strapped to his vest?

“I got compromised,” König looks down at the wound but doesn’t remove his hand. He looks so different, like another man entirely when he’s not dressed in his customary olive green pants and a casual black t-shirt. He seems even buffier now, even taller, so terrifying that you wonder if you ever even knew this man.

You must look like a frightened deer because König mistakes your horrified look as sweet, simple concern.

“Don’t worry... They have it much worse, I assure you,” he says with his usual grin – you can hear it from the way he says it that he’s smiling. But it’s so weary now, so exhausted and frail compared to his confident, playful laughs and that husky voice with which he spoke to you after your kiss.

“I came to ask for help,” he continues under his breath, wobbling even when leaning against a wall. “You’re the only one I can… trust.”

“Of course, anything. I will do anything I can.”

His eyes smile down at you from behind the executioner’s veil. It’s that same devoted stare you’ve been trying to dispel for months now. You give yourself a quick mental shake, then tell him to wait here while you go in and call for an ambulance.

König bounces off the wall and seizes your hand, telling you he can’t go to a hospital and that, if anything, he must avoid any kind of public places. You don’t ask any further questions, even if you know you’re in a pickle now, and not only because those glacial eyes are making your knees weak again. There’s nothing much you can do: he’s wounded and still in danger, saying he can’t trust anyone else. Of course you have to help him in any way you can. If he says it’s not safe, then you must help him get somewhere where it is safe.

And besides, aren’t you a nun? You’re supposed to help those in need.

So when he asks you if there are any motels or a bed & breakfast nearby, you say you know just the place.

It makes your heart bleed that König takes support from you while you slowly make your way down the street. A man of his size, a body trained to withstand whatever his job throws at him, seeking support from a frail little nun… It’s a joke, indeed, and a horrid one.

When you get to the small place run by a humble old man, you don’t know who to feel more sorry for: the elder behind the counter or König, desperately trying to stay on his feet.

“I mean no trouble,” he says while pushing an unnerving amount of money across the table. “I just need a place to rest.”

The receptionist’s eyes dart to you, then back to König, who still has what you suppose is a loaded rifle dangling by his waist. The safety is on, probably, but there are also knives and grenades strapped to his person, and with that hood, he mainly looks like a terrorist of some sort.

“She’s here to help. See...? Bride of Christ. Even less trouble than I am.”

You try to smile reassuringly as the man risks a better look at you now instead of being fixated on König or his weapons.

You must make an odd pair, a soldier and a nun... The old man probably has a ton of questions in his head right now.

“No shooting,” he says to you, but his words are directed at König.

“No shooting,” he promises. “No mess if no one knows we’re here. Ok...? You’ve never even seen us.”

The receptionist nods. Then he extends a trembling hand and takes the money, and hands out a key without taking any check-in information.

You go to König and help him up the small stairs and into his room paid with bloody money and a menacing appearance. The fitted carpet is old, and floral patterned, the room small and adorable and meant for visitors far more petite than König. The bedspread is old-fashioned and floral too and has never even seen blood, of that you are sure when König lays himself down with a grunt.

You spend the next minutes – or hours, you can’t tell – in a tunnel-visioned fog as you do exactly as he says.

You help him out of his gear and weapons and lay them aside quickly but gently, you cut his shirt with an ugly-looking knife, then get a watered towel for him to press against the wound. You rush back to his tactical vest and search for a first aid kit and some medicine, and start to treat his wounds per his advice.

The sun sets in the window, and you patch up your injured soldier with care, trusting his word when he says it’s only a flesh wound and that it looks far worse than it is.

“I should get shot more often,” he purrs when you’re cleaning the rest of the blood off his skin.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scold, trying to focus on your task and not the vast plates that make his chest. Or the thick abs, right there under your fingertips… Or the fact that he has incredibly narrow hips, and a luscious breath of dark hair leading from his navel down and underneath the waistband of his pants.

You suppose this is what your friend calls a happy trail...

And it does make you very happy.

You don’t dare to look beyond that because the pants he usually wears aren’t as tight as these, and you fear he’ll catch you checking out his junk in an attempt to see if your friend was correct about his size.

To your blessing – or your curse – you don’t even have to look straight at it to see he’s having an erection. You can actually see from the corner of your eye how König grows hard while you’re treating him – it’s right there, a robust tent that rises beside you while you concentrate on wiping off the blood.

“Pay no mind to that,” he says thickly and completely without shame. “It just happens… Can’t control it.”

He breathes a bit too heavy for someone who’s lying down, and you fear it’s because of the blood loss. But then you start to suspect it’s probably because all the remaining blood has gone between his legs… He doesn’t even try to tone down the heated, obsessive stares he shoots your way, and you suppose he’s either missed you very much, or then there’s a fever rising after all. You’re not sure if you’re glad or disappointed that the bullet didn’t scrape his leg instead.

“I missed you,” he says like he just read your thoughts. He whispers the sentence slowly and with purpose, saying it like a long-withheld secret.

“I missed you too,” you whisper back.

Gosh… Here you are, a silly little nun who’s tried to get over a crush for six months, crying after him at night and caressing his rose during the day. You’ve been petting a withering flower some mercenary gave you in hopes of getting into your pants, you’ve fawned over memories of a few smiles and a kiss, all the while the said mercenary has killed people for money and now got shot. He came here to work again, but never sent a message, he only came to see you when he was injured…

...And you’re glad he did. If a bullet was needed to bring him back to you, then you’re grateful for it, no matter how horrible it is.

“Did you ever… find someone?” You ask while keeping your gaze fixed on his navel instead of the raging bulge in his pants.

“Someone, who?”

“Someone to hold hands with.”

He gives a strained laugh. “Ah. No. No time for that.”

You swallow, and slowly guide your eyes to his.

“Are you still happy with your crucified man?”

Ouch.

“I… I don’t know.”

His brows knit together; you can see it even in the dim light of the table lamp, you can see it even if there’s some godforsaken black war paint all over his face under that hood.

There’s a distant hurt in his eyes before he blinks softly, slowly.

“I wrote to you, Braut Christi... Many times. Never sent the letters… They’re still in my room, at the base.”

Your heart skips a beat.

He hasn’t had “time” for women, yet has written you letters all these months. He’s written letters while you’ve caressed a rose….

You wonder if hearts can find each other, even through a distance, and if you’ve felt the urge to go to the flower he gave you at the same time König has gotten the desire to write another letter to you. It’s bittersweet, like this whole thing between you two, the mystery that both brings you together and rips you apart.

“I wish I hadn’t… I wish I...” you start, but can’t bring yourself to finish.

“Liebling. I should’ve sent them anyway.”

You go get rid of the bloodied paper towels before you start to cry in front of him.

God… You’re not only in a pickle, you’re neck-deep in trouble, and you only notice you forgot to wash your hands when you return to him.

He reaches for your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Peace settles in, even if there’s blood on your hands and the man you adore is lying next to you, patched up with the help of a first aid kit when he should be lying in a hospital, receiving treatment and care.

There’s a knife and a pistol tucked under the bedspread, next to his hand, and the fact that he’s still prepared to fight anyone who tries to come through that door underlines the fact that you two come from very different worlds. König is more than just a rose buying, coffee offering gentleman, he's more than just a silly guy who threatens to sing serenades under your window if you don’t come out to play with him.

You’re not sure if you’re more enamoured or scared.

“You’re an angel,” he rasps from the bed as you try to swallow the tears that refuse to go down.

“No I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

A teardrop falls on the innocent floral bedspread as you wish you were in this room as a married couple instead of an injured, horny soldier and a childish nun in love. Spending your honeymoon or something, getting some rest after an eventful day in town, choosing this absurd old Bed & Breakfast as your place to stay for the night.

You wish you were doing anything else than treating his wounds, lethal or not.

“Are you crying?”

His voice is gentler than you even remembered. Six months of despair have turned him into a dark, alluring trickster when he’s really just a man, a big, amazing, tender man who’s multifaceted, multitalented, and always kind.

He's about to fall asleep, and it’s no wonder. The events of the evening have left you drained, too. You kneel beside his bed, too tired to even sit on a chair, wondering if he’ll die from his wounds tonight or get hunted down by the people who still want him dead.

“I wish you would stop killing people... I wish you would stop getting killed.”

You must look silly, kneeling beside a giant soldier’s bed, crying and holding his hand between yours as if praying. But his eyes smile at you, and while you’d want nothing more than to see his face again, you realise you kind of like König this way. Masked and menacing and mean to his enemies, but stripped down to his soul when he’s with you.

“I wish you would stop praying... And start living,” he mutters gently.

“Praying helps sometimes,” you whisper.

In truth, you wish you’d start living, too. You always thought you were brave when you said ‘no’ to the world. Perhaps you were only running away from it…

The hand is warm but not feverish. His breaths start to even, and his lids get heavier; his thumb gives you a small caress before he drifts off to sleep.

“Perhaps that’s why I’m still here, Kätzchen.”

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig fanfiction #konig x reader #konig x you #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig x fem reader

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

Text

A little thing based on this post because it wouldn’t leave my brain:

“I just don’t understand why you won’t try to read it.”

Steve had heard Dustin say this exact sentence hundreds of times at this point.

“I mean, do you know how to read?”

Mike was an asshole. Steve loved him because he was part of the group and he’d been through the same things, but he was such a dick.

“Yes, I know how to read. I just don’t.”

Dustin rolled his eyes.

“If you don’t wanna read nerd shit just say so.”

Steve threw his arms up in frustration.

Steve was a nerd at heart. As a child, he would beg the nanny to take him to the library and the science museum that had real dinosaur fossils. There was something about the peace of exiting his reality and finding a new one among fantasy and history that was indescribable, even to this day.

But as he grew into his looks, he grew out of that phase. At least around others.

And with no nanny around to take him places, he settled for just being the popular guy who hung out with his friends after practice and threw parties at his forever empty house on Saturdays.

But secretly, he still found himself enjoying books late into the night. Never school books, or his grades would’ve been good enough for college, but always incredible novels that took him to other worlds with the most impressively brave people.

And then he lived a nightmare. A few times over. With concussions at every turn.

Now, anytime he tried to read, his head started pounding, his vision got blurry, and ears would start ringing. He stopped trying altogether after Starcourt, but he’d never really let go his love of books.

He occasionally let Robin read to him, but she would get distracted by a plot or character and go on a tangent, leaving Steve confused about what the actual story was. He hated being confused.

“Stevie, you got a minute?”

Eddie had been watching from his spot at the end of the table, where he’d been cleaning up the mess of D&D. He usually made the kids do it, but he’d let them off the hook tonight when they beat the monster and escaped his trap.

Steve and Eddie were friends, definitely. Maybe not close ones, but friends.

Steve had a little crush, definitely. Or a big one. Maybe.

So when Eddie shows him attention, he somewhat shamefully receives it like he’s dying of thirst in a desert.

Robin is the only one who’s noticed so far, but if he keeps acting like a dog being called by his master anytime Eddie talks to him, someone else will comment on it.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Steve asked as he made his way to Eddie.

The kids took this time to talk amongst themselves about the game and what they think will happen next week, and Steve couldn’t have been more grateful.

“You don’t have to tell me, but.” Eddie was tapping his fingers nervously against his leg. “Do you not know how to read?”

“Uh. No I do. I mean I graduated high school. I know it’s hard to believe.”

“Not judging if you can’t, man. I mean, I took three senior years. I’m the last person who can judge.”

“Yeah, but you’re smart. You just didn’t like school,” Steve replied with a pat to his shoulder.

Eddie glanced down at the contact, eyebrow raising and then falling back to normal quickly.

“Just seems like you’d have read something by now to get them off your ass.”

And that’s a really good point. Maybe he should’ve just suffered through a migraine so they’d leave him alone about it.

But migraines left him out for days sometimes, and he couldn’t exactly afford that right now.

“I guess it’s just not worth the migraine.”

He hadn’t meant to actually say it. He didn’t want Eddie to feel bad or for him to try to make him feel better about it or ask questions or talk about the concussion thing.

Actually, did he even know about the concussion thing? Things?

“You get migraines when you try to read?” Then realization hit Eddie hard. “Steve. Do you like reading?”

Something about the way Eddie was looking at him, like he was sad for him but not pitying him, made Steve want to cry.

“I used to, yeah.”

“Everyone out! Your parents are gonna have to come get you! No questions, no explanations, go!” Eddie yelled to the room.

Everyone stared blankly at him before they started protesting, Dustin loudest of all.

“Steve’s my ride!”

“Not anymore. Hitch a ride with Lucas.”

“But Lucas’ mom always squeezes my cheeks and tells me she hopes I never lose my baby fat.”

“She speaks for all of us. Get the hell out of here!”

Steve was actually impressed. Maybe a little turned on? God, he was a disaster.

As everyone cleared out of the room, Eddie patted the seat next to him. When Steve sat down, Eddie scooted his chair so close to him, his knees were touching Steve’s.

“Alright, so you’re gonna tell me about what books you like and what books you want to read and we’re gonna get started.”

Steve blinked at him. “Huh?”

“You have a list I’m sure.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Okay, then we better get started.”

“I mean, I’ve tried. I appreciate it, but even focusing on one page makes my eyes burn and my head hurt.”

“Got that. I’m not asking you to read.”

Sometimes Steve was worried the concussions had actually knocked some screws loose. He wasn’t getting it.

“I’m gonna read to you, Stevie.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure a lot of them will be movies and I can just watch them.”

“It’s not the same. You know it’s not.”

He was right. Steve didn’t have much patience for movies. And sometimes even those gave him migraines if there were a lot of bright lights and explosions.

“Yeah. But still. You don’t have to do that. You might not even like the books.”

“Ah, this isn’t a completely free service, my liege.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I don’t have extra money to pay you, dude.”

“Not money. I get to pick a book to read to you when we finish the first book you pick.”

“Is it The Hobbit?”

“It is,” Eddie looked so smug.

“Well, that was my first choice,” Steve stared back, equally as smug.

“So, your house is empty.”

“Yep.”

“And I’m assuming you own this book.”

“I do.”

“And it’s getting late.”

Steve looked out the window at the pitch black skies.

“It’s late.”

“So I could stay and read you to sleep.”

“Won’t I miss some of the book?”

“I’ll stop when you’re asleep.”

Steve’s heart was practically begging him to say yes. Eddie reading to him in his bed? Possibly falling asleep together? Maybe even waking up together? It couldn’t be a better proposition. Well. It could.

“Will you stay even if I fall asleep?”

Eddie smirked. “If that’s what you want, sweetheart.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d called Steve that, but it was the first time it felt like he meant it in a non-teasing way.

“Okay.”

So they both changed into some of Steve’s comfy clothes, got into his bed, and Eddie started reading The Hobbit.

Just as he was during D&D and real life, Eddie was animated, providing different voices for different characters and often giving long pauses to let Steve soak in what the words meant.

Steve didn’t even have to ask him to do that. He just did.

Steve fell asleep somewhere between halfway and the end of chapter two, but Eddie stayed.

And they woke up the next day with Steve’s head resting on Eddie’s chest, Eddie’s arms wrapped around him to keep him as close as possible.

They finished the The Hobbit in a week, and because Eddie was now committed to making sure Steve was well-read, they started moving through his list rapidly, falling for each other in new ways every time Eddie turned a page.

Part 2 (Angst) / Part 2 (Fluffy) / Part 2 (Explicit)

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #tumblr drabbles #ao3fic #headcanon #secret nerd Steve Harrington

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tragedybunny · 8 months

Text

Sated - Astarion x F!Reader

Astarion has gone too long without blood and you're determined to make sure he's fed.

Astarion tries, but not everyday is a good day, and some days he’s still snappish and lashes out. The rest of your group has learned not to take it personally, in fact now that Karlach can touch people, she’s developed a nice trick of just suddenly hugging him when he’s a pain. Usually either indignant silence or grumbling compliance follows. “Behave yourself Fangs, or I’ll do it again,” the Tiefling grins at him during whatever fussing he spouts after. He’s grown fond of her, you can tell, even if he can’t yet. In a way he’s fond of them all, but Karlach’s open, kind nature has given them a bit of a sibling-like bond. Watching them interact always brings a smile to you, he needs more of that in his life, people who care for him genuinely.

Today was not the best, but you shrug it off as concern overrides all else. He’s a little paler than usual and a little slower. There wasn't much out there among the shadow curse for him to feed off. Before you never had to question how much blood he needed to survive or where it would come from. But as you leave the formerly cursed land behind, you can tell he’s struggling. And yet, he hasn’t asked you about it. The one he’s supposed to trust more than anyone else. You’ve fed him plenty of times before, you would think he’d have come to you by now. Mentally, you scold yourself as you feel creeping insecurity. There has to be a reason for it, and now isn’t the time for selfish suspicion.

That night, as everyone settles themselves around a fire, contemplating what the road to Baldur's Gate holds, you find him seated at the edge of the flickering light, as far away as he can get without being in the shadows. Could he be worried he might find himself tempted if he’s too close to everyone? This can’t continue, you tell yourself, not only for the sake of his suffering, but you can’t be sure he wouldn’t be tempted either.

Grabbing a blanket from your shared tent, you take a seat beside him, wrapping it around both of you. “You feeling alright Starry Sky?” Gently, you wrap an arm around him, and feel the icy chill of his skin beneath his shirt. Not that his skin is ever all that warm, but this another level.

“Just tired,” he smiles weakly at you.

“And freezing,” your other hand reaches up to stroke his cheek lightly.

Eyes closed, he leans into your touch. “You know, I don’t even really feel it. I’m not sure if I need to be warm at all.”

“Hmm, even if you can’t feel it, you know why you’re freezing.” Leaning over you whisper to him, some things aren’t meant to include the others. “You’re hungry.”

“Perhaps a little, but I’m fine. I don't need you to start fussing over me constantly. There's an owlbear cub if you feel overtly maternal." The sharp words don't change the dark circles under his eyes, or how gaunt his cheeks look.

"You're ridiculously obstinate, you know that right," a gentle kiss on his temple follows your words, so he knows you're not actually being cross with him. You’ve come to realize he can’t stand it when he thinks you’re mad at him. In the past, anger meant reprisal, punishment, and in the context of the two of you, punishment could only mean withdrawing your affection. At least that’s where his thoughts lead.

"It is one of my better qualities," he leans over, head resting against your chest.

Shifting, you position yourself so he's seated between your legs, easier to let him rest his weight on you. "I don't know why you don't just ask me. My blood not good enough for your refined palate anymore?" Laughing, you try to mask the actual hurt that's creeping in. The truth is letting him feed from you has always felt like an important part of your relationship, the time when you’re closest to him.

It's been a long journey and a few of your group are already wandering to bed, although you think you hear Shadowheart muttering about saving it for the tent, whatever she said, Gale laughs it off. “Not at all,” he’s uncharacteristically serious, “I just…” he sighs, for once at a loss for words, “it seemed like a lot to ask from you, after everything else.”

“Everything else?” Lips leave light kisses on the top of his head as you brush your fingers through his hair.

“You know, lying to you, manipulating you, wanting you to still love me after all that. If I asked to feed from you, it would seem like I was trying to use you again.” Catching one of your hands, he kisses it and doesn’t let go.

For a moment you don’t know how to respond, you’re still not entirely used to seeing the softer, sincere side of him. “I see why you would think that, but I don’t want you to suffer. Let me take care of you, any way I can. That’s what I’m here for. Well, that and teaching you to be less of a stubborn arse it would seem.”

“Stop, you’re being entirely too sweet to me. It’s going to ruin my reputation around camp.” You let him have his moment of deflection and wait until he makes a frustrated noise. “But I can’t say I don’t want to.”

“Take what you need love,” you reach up to undo your collar and pull the blanket more securely around the two of you for privacy. A part of you considers moving to the tent, but you’re worried he’d use the opportunity to try to put it off more.

With a soft sigh, his lips press to your neck in a delicate kiss, teeth piercing your skin moments later. Pain and ecstasy course through you as you hold back a sigh. The two of you become one in that instant, bound through blood to the singular beating heart you now share, intimacy unparalleled. While he drinks, you fight to stay lucid enough to whisper to him of love and comfort, reassuring him that needing this from you is no sin. You feel your own warmth traveling into his skin, and you watch it take on a blush of life.

Before your world turns hazy, he pulls away, licking you clean, and returning his head to your chest, content to be held tightly. "I didn't take too much, did I?"

"No, you were perfectly careful dearest." The words bring a small smile to his lips, praise so new an experience for him, he hardly knows how to handle it. But you know he craves it, especially from you, and it makes you want to lavish it on him.

The others have vanished, a small part of you worries they noticed and were uncomfortable, but you hope they would understand as your friends. You two should join them soon, Baldur's Gate awaits, with a journey there still ahead. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“A few more minutes love,” somehow he manages to snuggle tighter against you, “I did miss this.”

“Me too, don’t wait so long next time. I’m always here for you.”

“There you go, being too nice to me again, silly girl.” Sitting up a bit he kisses you, fiercely, lips crashing together bruisingly, hands reaching to tangle in your hair, like a first and a last kiss all bound up in one and it leaves you gasping when he’s done. It’s as though he’s trying to express everything he feels in that one kiss. “I might get used to it if you’re not careful.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x f!reader #my fanfiction #my writing

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vexwerewolf · 9 days

Note

why is it that we only have like two licenses from any mech producer that’s a good guy? For a game where like there are clear good and bad guys (even if who you play isn’t necessarily linked to that) it seems strange to me that the only loot and XP you get is… more benefits from the bad guys

I can tell you the answer, but to do so, we're gonna have to talk about a completely different TTRPG.

If you've read @makapatag's truly excellent Filipino martial arts TTRPG Gubat Banwa (and if you haven't, here it is), you may notice that every single character class description (with one notable exception) ends with one of these babies:

I am not Makapatag, and I cannot write with quite as much grace and eloquence as he can, but I will try:

If you choose to become a Lancer, ask yourself why you mock the name of peace with these weapons of war. You call yourself a saviour, but your steed was forged from the murder of a world. You stride across the sky in a colossus built in your own image, so why are you too cowardly to give it your face? Why do you believe these machines of death can preserve life?

It is important to note that the admonitions in Gubat Banwa are not just there to make you feel bad; they are there as legitimate questions. The Sword Isles have seen so much blood, death and tragedy. Wars are not glorious and killing is not a game. So, knowing all of that, why have you taken up this discipline - no matter how noble and virtuous it might claim to be - to shed more blood, to bring more death, to write more tragedy? What could possibly drive you to this? What need is so great that you must kill?

The thing with Gubat Banwa is that there are legitimate answers to these questions! There are bad people doing bad things, and some of them will not be stopped with words or kindness. Sometimes, as sorrowful as it is, killing is the correct choice to prevent greater suffering and deeper tragedy - but adding less misery and death to the world is still adding some amount of it. Even the most necessary wars will drench the ground in the blood of the innocent.

A sword is a tool meant to kill humans; while it can be used for other things, it is not well-suited to anything other than this. A mech is, in its most basic essence, just a very complicated sword: it's usually used on things larger than a person, but it's still a tool built to kill.

So why have you taken up this path? Humanity was saved from the brink of extinction and has created wondrous technologies like printers, cold fusion and mind-machine interface, and yet you use them to play soldier in a giant metal man. Why do you choose to take up this machine of death, built by the greedy and pitiless? Why do you think these machines can ever make things right?

Because sometimes, despite everything, they can.

Warhammer 40K shows an awful world full of monsters and monstrosity, and in the darkest moments of its history, Lancer's world looked just as bleak, but Lancer's world differs in one crucial way. Warhammer's world has long given up trying to be better, but Lancer's world never did. Lancer's world kept insisting a better world is possible, and it used what tools it had to make it so.

Sometimes the correct choice, no matter how bitter it may seem, is to kill someone. When you need to do this, a sword is a perfectly good choice for the job.

If you find yourself discomforted by the fact that all the people you can buy mechs from are corrupt and immoral - good! You have correctly engaged with the text. You have understood that the sort of people who would make giant walking death machines and sell them for profit are not good people. But you still have a job to do, and you need the correct tools, and those people have them.

Lancer is not a game about a perfect world - it is a game about a deeply flawed and imperfect one that does not let its imperfection stop it from trying. You have to try to make a better world, even with imperfect tools made by unpleasant people.

#lancer #lancer rpg #lancerrpg #lancer-rpg #gubat banwa #philosophy #ethics #ttrpg

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sanzaibian · 2 months

Text

I should have known better.

You know, those highschool cliques ? The jocks, the nerds, the goths and all... Well, even though nowadays they might not be as clear-cut as they once were, I can assure you that they still existed.

You see, I'm a nerd. But when I say nerd, I mean nerd. Like the whole socially awkward, scrawny and ugly kind of nerd. Also the nasally always-right nerd with top notch marks that reminds the teacher he made a mistake kind of nerd. And also the loves DnD, fantasy and niche interests kind of nerd... well, you get what I mean.

Me being such a caricature meant that I was endlessly teased at school, and was senselessly bullied by the jocks. You know, these hot guys with always a girl in their pants, with big muscles and an obsession with looking good.

I hated it, I hated them, and suffered silently through highschool, until I finally saw the other side when I finally went to university. Although my first years were a bit messed up by Covid, when I was in the building actually studying applied chemistry, I finally wasn't bothered. No one was there to tease me, to bully me or anything else. I could finally live in the class without being bothered !

But, in my third year, Ethan, a guy looking like one of those jocks of old switched courses and came in my class.

I was shocked ! These guys are only good for being hot, playing sports, and entering hot girls' pants ! Not for doing some actual intelligent things like applied chemistry !

But he was even more annoying, that Ethan guy. Because he did not only take the courses I took. No, in fact, he was getting better grades than me. He's so good with polymers that he is the one who asks all the questions and corrects the teacher, not me !

So I tried to avoid him as much as I could. Even when he tried to befriend me, I just scoffed at him, sometimes even mumbling that he should go back to the football stadium. I also talked to the few acquaintances that I had made through awkward bumbling at how I felt he was dumb, and perhaps was only extorting some poor nerds for information to regurgitate in class.

And, one day, at lunch, I just had enough. Ethan and the polymer teacher had an intense debate just before the end of the class, a debate that I couldn't follow. My ego was struck, to the point that I just poured my heart out to the poor people sitting with me. I was seeing red, that day, and nothing could have stopped me... not even the fact that Ethan was there a few tables next to me.

I've since then heard that Ethan was very upset after my tirade, as he is always thought to be dumb due to his interest in being in shape and stylish, while at the same time, I was coming back home all happy to finally have given people a piece of my mind.

However, when I woke back up, I felt weird. I felt heavier, less agile and especially more groggy. As if I just couldn’t quite get up. There was also something cold on my chest that I couldn’t quite identify…

So I did the only logical thing and went to the bathroom to wash my face and properly wake up. But when I saw the mirror, I think what I saw woke me up immediately.

The man behind the mirror was not me. It was a jock – a hot one at that – with big muscles, trendy hair, chiseled face and multiple jewelry. Yet, there were still a few things that signaled me I was looking at myself : the jet black hair, the tan skin, the brown eyes and especially those small pimples on my right cheek and on my right… I guess I can call it pec, now.

I stayed in front of the mirror for quite a while, looking at each corner of my reflection. I couldn’t believe it, and after a long while, decided to just eat breakfast and forget everything that happened. It just isn’t possible.

But when I was going to my kitchen I couldn’t stop being reminded of how I changed. From my heavy step to the sound of my new necklace, and from the pecs I saw in the corner of my eyes to the weird feeling I still felt in my head. When finally reaching it, I was surprised when I didn’t go for my usual biscuits but rather for an apple… I must eat healthily, after all !

After finishing eating breakfast, I went to my closet, and rather than going for the button-up I usually wore, I went for a simple white t-shirt, and went for a jacket that I didn’t feel like closing, in addition to my usual jeans – all suspiciously fitting me well.

And with that, I went to university, set on finding who did that to me.

When I arrived, the weird feeling in my head hadn’t lifted, though I was dead set in finding who was responsible. So dead set that I didn’t notice people turning their head at my arrival. Nor my backpack shifting to only being carried by one shoulder.

After a while, I saw my class, and approached them with heavy gait, swinging my torso with every step like a typical jock. However, curses befell upon me when I opened my mouth and greeted my classmate.

“Yo, bro ! Doin’ good ? I just wanted to ask, bro, anything weird happened since yesterday ?”

I was shocked at how I said that, so much that I covered my mouth with my hand. My classmate was similarly shocked, and only shook her head negatively before excusing herself. Why did she flee like that ?

I clicked my tongue before looking at myself. How had this happened ? Why am I doing weird things ? Why am I talking weirdly ? I can think the sophisticated thoughts, yet when I voice them, they are filtered through bro-speech !

As I was melting down, none other than Ethan came in, smiling. Of course it was him, I shouldn’t have given the benefit of the doubt to him ! I have been only graceful and nice to him, and this is how he repays me ? By turning me into this… hot monstrosity ?

As the anger was rising, Ethan lead me to the bathroom, and there explained himself.

“You know, Juan, you’ve been insufferable ever since we started that semester. Always distrusting me, and making others distrust me. I’ve never know why you were always so angry at me, while you treated others with respect… that is, until you went on a rant yesterday.

- You fucker ! Turn me back right now, or you’ll wish you’ve never been born, you son of bitch !” I didn’t quite expect to be this foul-mouthed…

- Hahaha ! No, I’m sorry, but I can’t. It’s already so unexpected that my prayers were answered to, so you turning back ? No can do !

- Bro that’s not fair, I wasn’t bad to you, man ! You were the one being rude on my turf, bruh !

- So funny ! You now sound like one stereotypical jock in addition to looking like one ! I’m sorry, Juan, but nobody will ever take you seriously in a conference If you talk to them like that !” he laughs.

- Bro, just turn me back… I promise I won’t continue, man !

- What didn’t you understand in ‘No can do’, Juan ? the ‘no’ ?”

I roll my eyes, but he’s right… God that fucking angers me. I want to strangle that piece of shit !

“So, Juan, I guess, see you in class, if you even dare enter it…”

On that, he left. That day, I didn’t go to class, spending my time looking for information on what made me turn like that, until, like clockwork, at 5 PM I felt like I needed to go to the gym…

After a few days of searching and not finding anything at all, I decided to abandon the quest to find myself back and to rather learn to live with this new body. With Ethan stubbornly refusing to tell me how he did it and with my searches on internet only yielding weird fetish pages, I knew it was desperate...

I’ve since started to learn to cope with my strange occurrence, though it has absolutely wrecked my life. After having debated a while with the administration to prove I’m myself, I find my grades slipping, especially due to my newfound rudeness that mess up every single oral exam…

But at least, I’m hot now…

================================================

Hello, thank you for reading my small story, I hope it wasn't too bad !

Please do not hesitate to give me feedback - especially as it is the first real time I'm writing fiction in english ^^'

#male transformation #male tf #nerd to jock #jock tf #transformation #tf story

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bluexiao · 2 years

Text

#there for you

—when they walk in on someone else being mean to you

CHARACTERS. Albedo, Ayato, Childe, Cyno, Diluc, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Thoma, Venti, Xiao, Zhongli; gn! Reader

THEMES. hurt/comfort; angst to fluff?; some might’ve been unintentional crack, honestly

WARNINGS. may have themes of verbal and emotional ab*se; them being protective; scara showing his authority; toxic family in ayato’s part

NOTES. this is a request from an anon and it got pushed back a lot of times, so glad i got to post it now finally hahah

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

ZHONGLI knew the wicked ways of both mortals and gods—all the good things and the bad things that had happened throughout the millennia, he had seen them all. With this in mind, this is nothing new, actually, such a situation unfolding like this in front of him is not out of the ordinary at all. And yet…

“What is the meaning behind this?”

When he came right next to you, everyone stopped talking, holding their breath as a heavy pressure fell upon the air almost too suddenly—or maybe it had been a while since the pressure had been like this but they only noticed it when someone else joins in, which is what happened—but in reality, they did not see what is coming upon them, nor had they realized that the pressure his presence held came from an identity they did knew but do not see in him.

“Ah, Mr. Zhongli, you see-“

“My words are not directed to you, Mr. Zhang.” His voice was firm, and so was his gaze, but as they turned to you, relief washed over you almost instantly. “Darling, would you care to explain the situation to me?”

No matter what other people say, he would listen to you. He knows you more and trusts you all the same. As much, as he could see the way you tried to hold yourself up, he couldn’t handle also seeing you stress over something that someone else caused you out of just a very simple thing—and after confirming things through, he’ll do his best to solve it—of course, mostly in your favor.

At the end of it all, he will be taking you out for fresh air and making sure you were feeling better after such a stressful experience.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

XIAO had been through a lot of pain. For him, this suffering is meant for him, something that he thinks that no one else should experience but him—as he very much deserved it—this kind of pain… he can handle them all.

And you—especially you—are one of those who he did not wish to bring up the same kind of pain he had experienced. No matter what.

Xiao is a natural protector, and it is why it took all of him to control himself. His fists were balled tight and his eyes pierced through everyone in the area. He stood tall, right in front of you, between you and the person that was still glaring right at you.

“Walk off, human.” He sneers. Just as he was about to call his weapon, he could feel your hand on his wrist, your touch waking him up from the momentary blur he felt. Despite still feeling tensed, he instinctively takes your hand to his and holds it tight—yet not too much, just enough to make you feel assured that he was there—and he’s there for you.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

VENTI is the embodiment of freedom and was the hope of people from then, and even until now, they praise his name in the midst of their success and pray in the midst of their suffering. He can hear them all, even if it can sometimes be overwhelming, it is something he had been used to as he had lived long enough to endure it.

When he heard your voice tremble with the mention of his name, he knew, and he was there in an instant that it surprised the people how fast it had gotten for him to rush your way.

“Venti!”

“Y/n!”

Far too many times, he was the one rushing to your arms, but at times that it was you, he just knew that there is indeed something wrong.

“Why? What is happening, love?” He hadn’t even realized that there are other people with the two of you until you looked away and he felt their presence all of a sudden, looking around and meeting their judgemental eyes.

“You’ve hung around this bard for far too long, Y/n, his way had gotten to you, huh?”

Venti rarely gets mad—like mad mad, he really doesn’t—you’ve never seen him. Yet today, not even putting the pieces altogether before reacting, a flame grew inside of him that he had never intensely felt before—maybe he did, well, he certainly did, but it was all so foreign and he just… erupts.

“Excuse me, I don’t think you should be doing this.”

“Hm? And what business do you even have here, bard? Who are you to interfere?”

You could see your boyfriend bite his lip, you could almost feel the suppression of his anger that you had to wrap your hand on his wrist, yet he doesn’t back down.

“If you knew who I am, you wouldn’t even be standing in front of me at this very moment.” You should be kneeling.

The thought scared him—how he could just break at any moment and all of that is because of you.

Then he forces out a grin—you could tell it was fake though—“I’m Y/n’s boyfriend. Of course, it’ll be my business as well.”

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

THOMA always knows what to do when there are disputes—it’s his job! Of course, he can handle them! But wait… isn’t that… you?

“What is happening here?” He came without any other hesitation, making sure to place himself in between you and the vendor that was yelling at your face. It is very rare for people to see him mad—mostly serious, but not to the point he would be furrowing his brows and frowning his lips—and it would seem this would be one of those times.

“Love… do you want me to handle this for you?”

Whatever your answer will be, he will be by your side—if you need assistance, just send him a glance or a squeeze of his hand, he’s there. He’s very observant, so he knows very well how to respond properly and fit upon your comfort—actually, at this point of time, this will be what he will be prioritizing he will do his best to bring the situation where you’re the most comfortable or pleased with.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

“The nerve! You dare to do this right in front of me?!”

SCARAMOUCHE’s voice was heard all over the area, and by then, each of the Fatui members knew what that tone indicated very well. (Someone’s going to suffer that day)

He glares down at the said person and almost kicks them, only for him to feel you grab him by his arm, catching his attention for you to shake your head no to him.

“Are you telling me to spare this piece of trash when—” he cuts himself off and pauses before breathing out a heavy sigh, looking away.

He can’t just ignore you when you’re giving him that look.

“You’re lucky.” He mutters while he glares at the person who had hurt you. He then turns away and pulls you close to him, making you follow suit.

He gestures his hands towards his subordinates, to which they silently made their way to the person, bringing them away… and maybe for them to await his final judgement.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

KAZUHA is away for most of the time. At first, this was something that he thought would work out—even distance could not break whatever you and he have, that is something he is very much sure of. But there are times when he did not have a choice and had to leave.

And his instincts from the start were not proven wrong.

He had just arrived from his current travel to Mondstadt when you weren’t on the docks—he did send you a letter beforehand for you to be informed that he will be returning soon, were you unable to receive it? You’ve always received his letters in the past, what could’ve changed?

There was an uncertain beat in his chest as if being able to smell the faint scent of danger in the wind.

And he was right this time as well.

“I believe we must discuss this in a calm manner.”

“What do you mean? And who are you? Mind your own business!”

You tried to stop Kazuha from trying to get in between you and the vendor, but he merely looked back at you and gave you a smile, as if assuring you that everything is going to be okay.

But will it be?

As if sensing your worry, he reaches out for your hand and squeezes them gently.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

KAEYA had met a lot of people and observed just as much. One thing he learned from all of these is how to predict people—and this he expected, and he was glad he did before anything else had happened without him there.

“This is not how you’d like to treat others, sir.” He’d try to coax them into shifting their attention to him, and once they did, he will be rather… harsh with them.

“Oh believe me… it is my business,” he’d smirk shifting his eye to you, sending you a brief look before averting them back to the other person, attempting to intimidate him further, “you see, if you don’t know me too well, I am the Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius. Seeing my own lover stuck in an unfortunate and unfair situation like this…” he shrugs, “it bothers me quite a lot.”

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

ITTO does not tolerate any sort of unfairness, not for those who he even does not know well, but more so when it comes to his own loved ones—especially you.

Although even if he does try to defend you, in the end, you’ll be left worrying for him because he might be the one ending up in jail because he’s being loud and looking like he’s instigating a fight. If the Tenryou Commission sees you like this…

“Hun! I don’t understand!” He whines, “Why in the world are we running right now?”

“Because!” You heaved out a frustrated groan, “the moment the Tenryou Commission hears that you’re causing a scene, who knows what will happen! Just trust me, okay?!”

It was exhausting running like that but… well, he did defend you from that man that tried to instigate you were in the wrong earlier, so you might as well just reward him with cuddles later.

But maybe after getting away from Narukami Island in the meantime.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

HEIZOU is good at sensing something before anything ever happens. But this. This happens so suddenly, almost like a blink of an eye, and it took him by surprise.

“Hey you! Y/n’s in trouble, you should go and check it out.”

Those were Kujou Sara’s words and when he heard them, he could see the worry in her eyes, and how she wanted him to judge the situation himself.

He was… conflicted.

Of course, he would be biased over you. Just seeing you being shouted at by someone else makes his blood boil and want to hurry and charge the other person with anything.

But of course… he has to keep it cool.

“I see… so that is the case…” he nods and keeps the slyness in his voice, but he was making sure that he was in between you and the other person, keeping up a front before momentarily sending a wink your way.

And maybe he can charge them with... something that would not let them out of jail any time soon.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

GOROU was quite taken aback. For one, he had never expected that there would be anyone complaining about you, all the more, he does not know what to do, especially when it comes to you.

“From how I’ve known Y/n, this is not what they’re like-“

“General Gorou! Aren’t you supposed to judge us fairly? How can you judge us fairly when they are your lover!”

He bites at his lower lip, chewing them as he ponders. And worries.

“Ah! You guys! How could you say that to the general! For all we know, you’re the ones being unfair to the general’s lover!” The other soldiers began to join in, “And besides, Y/n is known for being kind and sweet, the general wouldn’t have fallen for them if they are bad! Clearly, you’re the ones that are lying!”

“How did you even know? We didn’t even know you were acquainted with the general’s lover!” Says the other side.

Gorou would’ve silenced everyone else, but he stiffens when someone else adds on;

“Well, the general often gushes about their kindness and sweetness, let’s not distrust the general like that!”

It wasn’t enough that almost all the soldiers knew about his “gushing” towards his own lover… but you had to hear it too as you were standing right in front of him.

And as if you weren’t just in the middle of a difficult situation, you send him a look, one that had him looking away in embarrassment.

Ah, he is definitely gushing over you right now.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

DILUC is quite protective, of the people of Mondstadt and of course of those who are a part of his “family”—which includes his employees in Angel’s share and you, of course.

“Have you no shame? This is not the right place for you to quarrel about these things.”

“What business do you have–Mr. Ragnvindr?!”

Diluc raises a brow and continues to do so as the other person tried to explain his side and acted as if he was the one on the right, “This… Y/n over here-”

“Stop right there,” his glare intensifies—how dare this man to speak your name in such a harsh manner? If only he could burn this man even for a little— “I will not tolerate any lies that are spoken about my significant other. I’ll personally investigate about this and if I ever find you at fault in any way,” he pauses, his eyes gleaming, “I’ll hand you over to the Knights of Favonius myself. Or would you prefer in front of monsters in the middle of the wild?”

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

CYNO has never been in a situation like this before—maybe a few times, but not to the point that he got emotionally invested in it which momentarily took his clear thinking away.

“What is the meaning of this? Have you lost your mind?” He glares at everyone—but really, he’s not mad at you.

“Yelling inside the akademia grounds. This is not the right place and tme for you to be shameless.>:

Ah, you think, he is definitely mad.

Yet why is he making his way over you? Is he perhaps mad at you?

He tugs you over to his side and you could only watch as he proceeds to nag at them, scolding them with his arms crossed over his chest and looking down at them.

Maybe… he isn’t mad at you.

He definitely isn’t.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

CHILDE is highly protective of his family. And of course, that includes you.

“I believe we can discuss this calmly, don’t you think… sir?” he tried to use his charm first—of course, he couldn’t start a fight when everyone is here to witness his every move.

But of course, his patience is not that big either, especially when it comes to you. How dare this guy to bully you like this? Isn’t it understandable if he begins to show his anger at this point?

Well, reputations be damned.

“Actually, why don’t we talk about this… privately?” he flashes a sweet smile—but you recognized it in an instant.

He’s definitely not leaning into the other person and whispering something next to his ear, only for the other to flash a horrified look—what did Childe say?

Well, you’re not even curious at this point…

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

AYATO was raised in a good family, one that he continues to uphold even to his work—his surname is his work, and that was enough to describe him as a Yashiro Commissioner.

“Stop what you are doing right this instant.”

“Who are you to say this? They are my child.”

“But they are not a child anymore.”

You could tell that the pressure in the atmosphere was already beginning to thicken every second that passed.

“Y/n,” he turns to you, but his grim face drastically changes and molds into one with a reassuring smile, “darling, shall we go?” He offers his hand, and you were about to take it when-

“Hey, you! You can’t go! We’re not yet done talking-!”

Instinctively, you took his hand and he instantly pulls you to his side.

Anything else didn’t matter to you at this point, because with him by your side, you felt at peace and safer than the other days of your life.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

ALBEDO is not someone who gets “feelings” on the way of solving problems.

He definitely isn’t, but he would do anything to defend you—well, isn’t it logical to do anything for someone you love?

“Oh? You must be the genius alchemist!”

When the other person deliberately ignored you after shouting and scolding you for the longest time before he had the chance to go over to your side. Yet before he can even get the gist of what was happening, the other person starts to… try to humiliate you in front of him.

“Hm… Is that so?”

He even has the nerve to act like he was pondering over something.

“How about you, sweetheart? Do you have anything to say?” you could see the surprise in the other person’s face, most likely realizing something.

“Sweetheart…?”

“Well, it’s not like I will side with you or anything… mister…? I don’t even know your name. Pardon me.” Albedo smiles—a taunting one, you could tell.

Reblogs and comments are very appreciated~

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#genshin x reader #xiao x reader #scaramouche x reader #kazuha x reader #albedo x reader #heizou x reader #zhongli x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #childe x reader #cyno x reader #ayato x reader #gorou x reader #itto x reader #thoma x reader #venti x reader #blue's works

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throneofsapphics · 2 months

Text

the other side

young!Rhys x Reader

Summary: “I hate you” “No you don’t” and “How do you sleep at night?” “I usually go for a bed” with Rhys

Warnings: drinking, bickering

A/N: for this! (continued here)

Through the sweat, liquor, and various perfumes you still managed to pick up on that distinct sea and citrus smell. That scent only meant one thing. He was back, your good mood was about to take a turn.

The High Lord’s son infuriated you. Usually stayed away from Velaris, you didn’t know where exactly he went - rumor had it somewhere in Illyria, but as long as he was away from you, you were fine with it. You’d suffered through lessons with him when you were younger, and that was plenty. The two of you always had it out for each other, bickering over one thing or another and constantly getting in trouble because of it.

Still, each year when winter solstice came around, you mentally prepared yourself to deal with him. Maybe this time, if you stayed in the shadowed corner of the bar, he’d leave you the hell alone. It was a nice sentiment, but he loved tormenting you too much for that and you should’ve known it.

“Fuck off,” you snarled as he slid into the stool next you.

“Charming as always,” he braced one forearm on the wooden bar, angling his body towards you.

Fingers tightened around the stem of your wine glass, shoulders rolled back, you turned to face him.

“Can I help you?” you gritted your teeth.

“I can’t say hello to an old friend?” His eyes danced, stars twinkling, and you tamped down the urge to throw your drink at him. Rhysand wasn’t worth getting kicked out or causing a scene

“We’re not friends.”

“An old acquaintance,” he modified.

“That’s better,” you replied, eyes rolling, you shifted away from him and downed the rest of your wine.

“Impressive.”

“I’m not trying to impress you,” you hissed.

“That’s obvious,” he made a show of running his eyes over your body.

“Mother above, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t, darling.”

“Don’t -”

“Call me that,” he waved you off, “yes I know.”

“If you know,” you spat, “then why do you still do it?”

“Because it amuses me,” he shrugged, and stood. Your reactions, amuse him. Theoretically, if you wanted him to stop - you’d just ignore him completely, but there was something comfortable about the routine - the bickering each time you’d see him, so you let it happen. From the little spark in his eyes, he felt the same. “Same time next year,” he winked, before turning and melting into the crowd.

“Fuck,” your hit the table a touch too hard, catching a few wary looks. He’d gotten the last word in. This time.

You should’ve asked more questions. Absolutely should’ve asked more. When your friend invited you, you assumed it would just be a few of your mutual friends, people you ran with regularly.

In the future, you’d make sure to ask exactly who would be in attendance, considering your greatest childhood and now a few times a year annoyance was sitting on a chaise, making it his throne. His eyes gleamed as he saw you.

You were tempted to turn around, to walk right out that door and forget about this, but that would mean he’d won and that was utterly unacceptable.

A few drinks later, the two of, to your mutual surprise, spoke to each other somewhat civilly.

“I’ve been wondering,” he drawled. You stared at him, not bothering to egg him on. He frowned when you didn’t bite, but continued, “how do you sleep at night?”

“Excuse me?” You choked.

“With all of that arrogance,” he continued. “Aren’t you up all night? Thinking about yourself? About how pretty you are?” His words were slightly slurred, alcohol, sounding like he was trying to make a joke that wasn’t quite landing as he wished.

“I usually go for a bed,” you deadpanned, “and you look like you need a rest.”

You scanned the room, aware of exactly who was in here, and who might try to take advantage of the heir in this state. There were plenty of takers. Sure, you weren’t his biggest fan, but you couldn’t let that happen. Maybe there was a lingering sense of loyalty after suffering through the same lessons.

“Let’s get you home,” you finally said, and linked your arm through his.

Taking me home, darling? His voice purred in your mind, sending a shiver down your spine. You forgot he could do that.

Getting you away from the vipers, you countered tersely.

Don’t let my father see me like this.

You stopped, sending him a quizzing look, and saw the slight desperation in his eyes. If his father saw him like this … you didn’t try to fill in the blanks. Instead, you were sober enough to winnow him back to your apartment.

The memories faded, and you let out a soft laugh against his chest. “You really love throwing us right back into the past, don’t you?”

“It’s interesting to see me from your side,” Rhys ran his fingers lazily through your hair. “I never realized quite how much I annoyed you.”

#acotar drabble #rhys x y/n #rhys x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x reader #acotar x reader #acotar imagine

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klausysworld · 10 months

Note

Hey, I was hoping I could make a request for a Klaus story?

Idk if you’ve ever written Omegaverse but I was thinking Y/n is an Omega (something that’s a rarity in this time) who’s hiding as a Beta by using suppressants. No one knows she’s a Beta except her mother who helped her hide it before she died.

Klaus and his family settled in Mystic Falls after that business with their mother and Klaus meets Y/n and immediately knows what she is, he can smell her as not only a very strong Alpha but a hybrid. He knows she’s meant to be his, as in over 1000 years he’s never found an Omega that calls to him like she does and his wolf screams and howls in his head for him to take their Omega.

He’s obsessed and desperate for her, leaving her flowers and gifts with cards that make it obvious that he knows what she is which scares her until he introduces himself. She’s instantly taken with him knowing that he’s her Alpha but the needy feeling is scary for her since it’s never happened with anyone else, though he lets her know it wouldn’t have because he’s her Alpha, no one else (Possessive Klaus). Yet she takes comfort in his caring gestures and urge to provide for her (maybe he brings her food often to ensure she eats, constantly trying to touch her in soft ways to scent her and kiss her cheeks, nose, forehead, etc, always trying to snuggle close and holding her close in his arms when she drifts off to sleep in his presence).

Some smut when he finally wins her over would be perfect?

I don’t see much Omegaverse stuff with Klaus (which is odd considering he’s an Alpha wolf) apart from one other blog so I really hope you like it🤞🏻🤞🏻

Instincts and suppressants

A thousand years ago there was a mix of alpha, beta and omega wolves within a pack.

Omegas were generally kind, shy, sweet, smart, and hard working little wolves that would typically be claimed by an alpha wolf or a very lucky beta. They tended to gravitate to alphas more though for their instincts told them that they would take better care of them.

However through the years, due to the hatred and wars between vampires and werewolves, the bloodsuckers found that killing an alphas omega was the best way to destroy a pack’s stability. An alpha who loses their omega becomes a shell of who they were and the whole pack will suffer in grief and torment.

And the more scarce omegas came, the more sacred they were. Packs who had an omega would lock them up, keep them safe and protected at all costs. But it only gave the wolves a main weakness.

And so the wolves themselves found it best to kill their own omegas if they had one to ensure that they were not tortured in later life and that the pack would not fall because of one death.

As the years passed by, being an omega was no longer a wonderful but instead something that parents feared their children would inherit.

Most parents who had an omega child would want rid of it.

And y/n’s father was one of them but her mother couldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t lose her baby just because she was a little different from the other wolves. The pack banished them but it meant nothing to y/n’s mom. She had witches make suppressants to hide her little girls traits.

Y/n’s scent was no longer as desirable as it should’ve been, she was unable to produce that lovely purr and her heats were taken away. Her mother knew that it was risky, if y/n were to stop taking the suppressants then all her pheromones would be a amplified massively. Her first heat would hit her hard and both alphas and betas would instantly recognise her.

And as y/n grew up, she understood the importance of keeping herself away from other wolves, to hide herself and be quiet as to not drag herself into any trouble.

When her mother passed away, it made y/n’s life all the more harder.

It meant that she had to take care of herself entirely and that meant going out into the world and facing society. And it turned out people were just as scary as she had imagined.

———————————————————————

A thousand years ago Niklaus used to watch the wolves turn and treat each other as family. Something within him called out to them and he longed to have the relationship dynamic that he saw with so many of them. He loved how an alphas omega would cling to their side and depend on them.

Over the centuries Klaus had tried to find an omega but with his wolf side locked away, they didn’t have the instinctual need for him. They weren’t as connected as they should have been. He didn’t feel as though he deserved to take an omega wolf away from their pack just for his own needs and he couldn’t bare the thought of an omega hating him for taking them away.

He regretted his decision regularly when the breed seemingly died out. He missed his chance. Or so he thought he knew.

Which is why when he saw her, everything changed.

———————————————————————

One inhale was all it took and his wolf was going absolutely mental.

His head spun and his limbs grew heavy, his bones ready to snap and let his wolf take over if he didn’t move immediately.

Get her. Get her. Get her. Get her. Get her.

His wolf cried over and over, howling through his mind like a siren.

His eyes landed on her quickly.

She was swift as she made her way past people, avoiding contact or conversation as she hurried on by. He followed from a safe distance, watching her rush into her home and triple lock her door. She closed her curtains immediately and he heard her heart thump away as she paced the length of her kitchen.

Omegas need to be pampered.

His wolf told him and he agreed.

She needs to feel pretty. Loved.

Klaus was quick to get her some flowers. White lilies and daisies to symbolise innocence and sweetness, purity and lasting love.

He listened to the light pattering of her footsteps as she came to the door after he rang the bell only to find nobody standing behind it. Her heart raced in her ears and anxiety washed over her. She tentatively lifted the flowers in their pretty box and breathed in their natural aroma. Her teeth nibbled her lower lip lightly as she slowly backed into her house with the gift in her arms.

He was a little worried of how easily afraid she was but also found it to be a level of adorable to how innocent and shy she was to the world surrounding her.

He found that she only left her home when she absolutely needed to, he sometimes wondered if perhaps she was mute with how silent she was each day. He would hear the chatter of her tv and the change in pace of her heart but rarely her voice. Only when she was being polite to those at the shops or when her neighbours gave small conversations. She was so softly spoken, so timid in each thing that she did that his wolf was screaming to have her in his arms. To tell her everything’s okay, he’ll keep her safe.

To begin with he was certain that his presents were an added joy to her days but he noticed how her anxiety would peak with each passing note that mentioned her kind, pure soul. How she didn’t tend to eat the treats he left for her out of presumably fear that they contained something harmful. He understood to an extent of why so was so scared but he didn’t want her to be, not of him. Not of anything while he was around.

So he tried a less…creepy way of getting her attention.

A more normal way.

———————————————————————

“Hello love” he spoke as soft as he was able as to not frighten her off, trying to be less intimidating which was something he wasn’t sure how to do exactly.

Her head raised to look up at him and her eyes shone golden for a brief second to which his reflected back.

Like a switch, the fear was back.

She took a step away from him as her wolf whined within her. For some reason her wolf smelt his and something inside her wanted to breathe more of him, but that familiar feeling of the need to run away was engraved into her brain. Her wolf wolf would protect her before it gave into this alpha.

Klaus anticipated her actions to run “have been getting my gifts?” He asked quickly and she froze, he showed her his hands to be empty, no weapons or anything to be scared of. “I have no intentions to harm you sweetheart, an innocent gesture” he assured but his words meant little to a girl who had been warned a thousand times owner to not trust other wolves. “Don’t be afraid little wolf” he encouraged gently.

Her eyes searched his face, his eyes held nothing malicious which soothed her worries a small amount. She couldn’t help but look at his lips for a moment as he said something more but that common ring in her ears blocked out the sound as her mind ran into panic

Klaus frowned a little at her lack of attention and noticed her eyes watching his mouth. Perhaps she was deaf? He wondered, it would make sense why she only spoke few words so he signed something to her but she only looked more confused

“I’m sorry I don’t speak sign language” she whispered slightly embarrassed. She didn’t notice the way his face lit up at her voice

“Forgive me, I wasn’t sure you could hear me” he explained and she made an ‘oh’ sound in realisation.

“I’m…I’m sorry I really need to get home” she told him gently

“I can walk you” he offered and she swallowed thickly

“I-um I don’t think that-“

“Please my lovely, I don’t want you to be snatched up by someone” he murmured and the fear of something happening just because she denied a nice person the chance to walk with her scared her more than the possibility of him being the bad one.

“Okay” she whispered with a nod.

It began quiet, and few words were exchanged

She doesn’t like to talk. Let her listen.

His wolf directed so he complied and spoke to her about random things to take her mind off of the elephant in the room.

He avoided any mention of supernatural or her soft natured personality.

She was rather grateful to have him treat her like a normal person rather than an object like she assumed alphas would act towards an omega nowadays.

By the time he got to her house she knew it were time to address the situation.

“I don’t have a pack” she told him “I’m no threat or a necessary target, killing me won’t benefit you” she tells him in hopes of him leaving her be. The sad look in his eyes flicked between both of hers

“I wasn’t planning to harm you” he said quietly “omegas…they are a rarity that should be protected and cherished. I only want to be a good alpha for you, I will keep you safe” he promised

“I’m not a possession” she whispered with a sigh and unlocked her door hurriedly

“Of course not- that’s not what I meant…I just meant that you- well you want to be taken care of don’t you?” He asked confused

“No” she lies. Thankfully her suppressants stopped her wolf from throwing her at him. His scent was so strong and rich.

Klaus frowned at her a little and looked down briefly which she took notice of and an immediate flow of guilt travelled through her. “I don’t mean to scare you, or make you feel uncomfortable” he murmurs while she steps inside her house “If you change your mind, perhaps you would call me?” He offered and put a strip of paper with his number into her hand “I can sense the suppressants you are taking, I understand why of course but I do hope one day you may feel safe enough to stop and allow your wolf to be free” he whispers with a small smile and slowly retreats back to his own home.

Y/n would be lying if she said his words didn’t have an impact on her. She wanted nothing more than to let her instincts drive her and to melt into a strong alphas arms but her trust wasn’t known to be given out.

She continued to receive little tokens of his affections. Sweet poems and love notes complimenting every thingy detail about her. She soon found it more comforting than scary which was a first but it didn’t feel wrong. For once something felt right.

So she decided that maybe texting him instead of ringing him would be a small step in the right direction.

And Klaus couldn’t have been happier.

———————————————————————

A few weeks later and y/n was getting more comfortable with Klaus by the day.

The first few times he initiated physical contact made her freak out and she didn’t want to see him for a couple days after. He tried his best to be patient and careful with what he did, she was more damaged than he had originally expected but it was nothing he couldn’t handle.

He moved nice and slow for her until eventually she would sink against his chest and welcome his embrace.

Soft touches were her kryptonite and he made sure to give her unlimited access.

His hands would stroke and pet her hair, brush his fingers along her arms gently while small kisses are peppered from her shoulder to her jaw. Kisses was another step in their little relationship. His forwardness could frighten her from time to time so he made sure to let her come to him when she wanted to kiss him.

His arms were wrapped around her loosely when her lips ever so lightly pressed to his, as soon as she took the chance to deepen it she had handed the control over. From there he poured every ounce of his admiration into their shared moments of affection.

After a couple months y/n was succumbing to her omega needs. She began to rely on him more and more.

Soon enough Klaus had asked if she would ever stop taking her suppressants

“Maybe…I don’t know…I would be hit full force with years of feelings and experiences” she told him quietly

“I would be here with you, take care of you and everything you long for” he promised her

She blushed a dark pink and leant against his chest “I’m not sure that my needs are manageable” she whispered shyly

“I wouldn’t worry about your heat sweetheart, I would take perfect care of that” he whispered back with a knowing smirk on his lips. His fingers ran down her back lightly as she nuzzled his chest to hide her embarrassment. “Don’t be too shy my little love, your alpha will please you just perfectly” he teased

“Stopp” she whined making him chuckle and pull her into his lap

“Hush sweetheart, you know how much I adore you” he murmured “you mustn’t be embarrassed with your basic instincts, I crave to provide for you”

“You do so much for me already, my wolf would drive you mad” she whispered

“No madder than my own does, I assure you”

(Gonna do a separate part for the smutty side after she stops taking her suppressants;))

(Also I too cannot believe the lack of omegaverse for Klaus, you would think there would be more. Gotta love alpha klaus!!)

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walks-the-ages · 2 years

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Literally mind-blowing that people think Nope 2022 is ableist for having a character (Mary Jo Elliott) portray the fictional counterpart to the real life Charla Nash, because they thought her inclusion in the movie as a disfigured woman was for the "shock value" of her face, and that the audience is supposed to find her appearance scary.

Like. Literally how do you miss the point that much?

The horror is not that she is disfigured.

You're not supposed to find her scary.

You're not supposed to be horrified at her appearance.

You're supposed to be horrified that she was victimized by a system that neither cared for the safety of her and her costars as human beings, or about the animals they were working with.

an abusive system that chose to put people and wild animals in close contact and stressful situations for entertainment and profit,

that as one of only two survivors of the attack, Mary Jo is once again a victim of the same system that is attempting to exploit wild animals for the sake of spectacle, but instead of tv producers, it's her fellow survivor continuing to perpetrate the cycle,

the one person who should have been able to understand the danger, the one person who should have realized just how badly this could go wrong, and instead he's embracing the danger, thinking he's special, that he's lucky, that he was "chosen" because he escaped the Gordy's Home attack physically unscathed where the others were ripped apart and died.

We are not meant to find Mary Jo Elliot / Charla Nash scary or horrifying because of their injuries.

We are supposed to be horrified at what she was put through for the sake of entertainment,

the pain and trauma she was put through because other people thought themselves capable of controlling a wild animal,

And the fact that here she is, once again, being subjected to the same horror, only this time it's at the hand of a friend who should have known better, having lived through the same attack.

We, the audience, The Viewers if you will, are not supposed to find Mary Jo Elliot / Charla Nash horrifying for her scars-- we are meant to be horrifed in how she gained those scars.

The entire premise of Nope is a commentary on the exploitation of animals and people for entertainment and the inherent danger therein, and inviting the audience into researching the real history Charla Nash's attack by Travis the Chimp is literally just a way to show this is not just a horror movie, these things happen in real life and we need to stop this from happening again

Like. This movie is as against the exotic pet trade as you can possibly get, especially because this is still very much a problem today, chimpanzees and other primates are still legal to own in almost half of the United States,

the 2011 Zanesville "Zoo Escape" is right there,

And oh look! A quick Google search pulls of an NBC video from June 23rd, 2021 , of someone who owned a Chimpanzee for 17 years having her 50 year old daughter viciously attacked and having to lock herself and her bleeding daughter in the basement so she could call 911 and direct police to do a headshot on the chimpanzee so they could get medical attention.

Like.

This is not a cheap "haha, disfigured people are scary villains and we're showing her for the shock value"

this is literally a horror story about what this woman lived through and is being put through again by someone she should have been able to trust,

and a lesson that things need to change, because this is not just a single incident that happened decades in the past, this is happening right now, and it's going to keep happening until we enact real change to protect people and animals from suffering.

#Nope #nope 2022 #Charla Nash #Nope film #Nope movie #Animal attack tw #exotic pet trade #animal abuse mention

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turtletaubwrites · 2 months

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Bend Until You Break ~ Part 1

Thank you for this request from the lovely @anemptypuddingcup for a Yandere!Law that the Reader goes to for help with a serious health condition, only for Law to take a liking to her... I swear I will write sweet Law one of these days, but for now please enjoy Yandere!Law. This contains !!DARK CONTENT!! so please check the warnings, and skip this one if it may be triggering or uncomfortable for you. This one's for us hypermobile baddies out there. 🥄

Pairings: YANDERE!Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Bend Until You Break ~ Masterlist

Word Count: 2679

Ao3 Link

Summary: You have struggled with mystery pains and injuries for most of your life, and had resigned yourself to suffer after every doctor told you there was nothing wrong. But when a world renowned doctor/pirate comes to town to offer aid in exchange for supplies, you decide to give hope one more chance. Maybe you'll finally find a doctor you can trust.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Dubious Consent, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Yandere, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Hypermobility, Medical Examination, Medical Trauma, Medical Conditions, Chronic Pain, Injury, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Doctor/Patient, Abuse of Authority, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to be Added, (Reader is described as having hair "above her shoulders" that she can brush)

A/N: This chapter is SFW, but I'm adding in many tags to start out with since this mini series will contain heavy/dark content. PLEASE heed the tags, and do not read this fic if you aren't comfortable with these topics. Some of these medical issues may or may not have come from personal experience 🙃

Extra A/N: I am not a doctor, and this is not meant to be educational, or to contain any health advice. Please seek a health professional. Hopefully you'll have better luck than Reader 🙄

I should just leave. He’ll just tell me the same things. It’s a waste of time.

You were close to convincing yourself to walk away, especially as the discomfort and pain of standing in one place for so long started radiating up your body.

The line got shorter, and you stretched and bounced, trying to hang onto a sliver of hope.

“Hello, how’s your day going?”

A talking polar bear in an orange jumpsuit waved at you from behind a small table, handing you a clipboard.

“I-I’m well thanks. How…”

“Good! It’s always nice when the captain can help people. He’s the best! Just fill that out, and he’ll be with you soon.”

Looking at the form brought you out of the shock of speaking to a bear. Instead, it filled you with intense frustration, until you were practically boiling in your skin.

‘Rate your pain from 1-10.’

How the fuck am I supposed to rate all the different types of pain I’m in on any given day?

‘Circle the parts of the body where you are experiencing pain.’

I could put circles over so many things. Might as well circle the whole fucking chart, and have them call me a liar.

‘List your diagnoses, and family medical history.’

I don’t have one, doctors never find anything. Mom has some similar symptoms, but they're so mild that she's never tried to get a diagnosis. You’re the one who’s supposed to figure this out!

You resisted the urge to vent your anger onto the page, bullshitting your way through instead. You tried to write in the most convincing way to get this new doctor to take you seriously.

This new doctor. “The Surgeon of Death.” A fucking pirate.

But he was supposed to be the best, and he was here on your shitty little island for a couple of weeks, trading medical treatment for the town's supplies. You had already heard reports of “miracles,” that he could perform surgeries in an instant, that he could fix anyone.

Please fix me.

This was it. You couldn’t take anymore trying after this. Just trying to get a doctor to listen to or believe you was almost worse than the daily pain. Almost.

“Miss Y/N? The captain is ready for you now. My name is Bepo, by the way,” the bear grinned as he took the clipboard from your clammy hands. At least you hoped it was a grin.

He handed the form back to you as he led you through the dimly lit hallways of this strange submarine. It felt like you’d entered some other realm, an underworld, on your way to strike a deal with a demon.

As long as he can fix me…

“Here you are,” Bepo motioned as he opened a large metal door. “You’re in great hands.”

Hands.

Hands were the first things you noticed as you entered the examination room.

Those hands were tensed over the back of a rolling chair, gripping the thin padding as if waiting for you so he could sit down.

Long fingers mesmerized you, tattoos etched along the back of each hand. And as you stepped into the well lit room, you saw the word “death,” spelled out across both sets of those fingers.

The sound of his throat clearing snapped your eyes to his, your skin flushing as you realized he’d been speaking to you.

As you realized how fucking gorgeous he was. His black hair looked a bit mussed, but it only added to the effect, along with his goatee, and his dark, pretty eyes.

Already more useful than my other doctors. Easy on the eyes.

“May I look at your form, miss?”

‘Oh, of course,'' you stuttered, thrusting the paper toward him. “I’m Y/N.”

“Dr. Trafalgar. You can take a seat.”

Well, his bedside manner seems pretty standard, you thought with a small sigh, sitting down on the familiar crinkly paper covering the exam table.

He circled behind you to close the door, and what sounded like a lock clicking into place had your heart rate spiking.

“Stand up, please,” he said firmly, your form still unseen in his hand.

“Oh, sorry. I thought you said–”

“Walk to the corner, and sit back down, please.”

His voice was unreal. You would have jumped through hoops for him anyway, praying that any doctor would listen.

But his command seemed to curl into your brain, and you followed it immediately.

“Why are you favoring that hip?”

“Oh, it…”

Here’s where your credibility would fall apart. Your nails dug into your palms as you willed him to believe you.

“Sometimes if I stand too quickly, it feels loose. Sometimes it pops, and is so painful that I can’t put any weight on it.”

He stared at you for a moment, and you fought not to recite a list of excuses, to try to explain why it hurts when you’d never been injured before.

“And your right knee?”

“Oh, it’s not bad right now. It used to swell sometimes, and was really painful. But it’s not as bad as it used to be.”

“Did you sustain any injuries?”

“N-No. None that I can recall.”

His lips quirked a bit before he reviewed your chart.

Believe me. Believe me. Believe me.

“You’ve reported your shoulders as being your most pressing concern. Why is that?”

His eyes were almost painfully sharp as he scanned you, focusing on your face as you answered him. He’d sat backwards on the rolling chair, his arms folded across the back with his legs spread wide to either side.

“They’ve been acting up recently. They often feel… loose. That’s how it feels to me. Sometimes if I move a certain way it almost feels like they pop out of place. But I can still move them after, it’s just incredibly painful. And then it’s weak, and I can barely hold anything.”

“What are some of the activities that have caused this to happen?”

He was impossible to read. But you couldn’t lie. He wouldn’t be able to help you if you lied.

“Um, brushing my hair. Taking off a jacket. P-Putting a sports bra on.”

“Did you used to have longer hair?”

“What?”

“Do you keep your hair above your shoulders to prevent shoulder pain? Or does brushing it still cause issues at this length?”

“Oh. Yes, actually. I used to have much longer hair.”

“I imagine you’ve adjusted many aspects of your life to cope with this pain.”

Warmth flowed into that deep voice, and you shivered as you watched him steeple his fingers against his lips for a moment.

“If you are comfortable, I would like to run through a few simple movements to check your flexibility. Many of which you can do on your own, but I will check in again if you are comfortable with me touching you for the others. You can always let me know if you would like to stop.”

“Okay.”

The doctor dug through a drawer to pull out a clear measuring device, almost like two rulers connected at one end. He adjusted it, creating an angle before setting it aside.

He never picked up the device again, and you fought not to shake. He looked at your elbows, your knees, your thumbs, your pinkies, frowning slightly as you followed his instructions.

“Now, please bend over, and try to touch your toes. Just go as far as you– hm.”

Your palms were flat on the ground, just as they’d always been able to go. You could even put the back of your hands down, and stretch them along the ground behind you if you wanted to.

“Doctor?”

“You can take a seat.”

Wincing as you sat, you shook out your legs, feeling his eyes as he watched your every movement.

He stood, towering over you as he came close.

“For this next part of the examination, I will be touching you with my hands, and in some cases leaning or holding parts of your body against mine so that I can check the range of motion in your joints. I may also massage certain tight muscles to help you relax as we move through the problem areas. You have quite the list for us to get through, but if at any time you wish for us to stop, just let me know. Do you understand?”

“I do,” you breathed, your face angled up to meet his.

“Do you consent to me touching you?”

His voice came out softer once again, and you couldn’t hold in a shiver as you consented.

Those fingers…

His long fingers were so gentle as they crept across your body, testing, pushing, pulling. You fought to listen to his commands, pushing against or holding your body how he told you.

“I imagine that seeking treatment has been challenging for you,” he rasped as he leaned over your face, his fingers gently massaging your shoulders.

The pain and pleasure of his hands testing you had brought up a strangely emotional pressure, almost like tears in your throat.

“It has.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It must be incredibly difficult to suffer so much pain, and not be believed.”

You started to nod to keep your voice from cracking, but he pressed his fingers into your skin just a bit.

“Can you keep still for me,” he whispered, and it sounded so close that you opened your eyes.

“Just relax,” the doctor soothed as he stepped away, pulling a few tissues out to press against your cheeks and temples, catching the tears that had spilled when you’d opened your burning eyes.

“I’m sorry, doc–”

“No need to be sorry, Y/N. You have been suffering, been living with pain for years. It’s all those doctors that left you like this that should feel ashamed.”

His fingers had returned to your body, still relaxing, and testing.

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Please, call me Law.”

He was pressing gently along your collarbones as his name rolled over you, a small sound escaping your throat as you melted beneath him.

“Do you have a good support system? People in your life that can help you with this?”

“I mean, my mom and my boyfriend help me. They’re supportive.”

He took those fingers away, and you mourned them, wishing you could feel that soothing touch forever.

“I’m going to test your hips now, Y/N. Please tell me if you experience any pain.”

“Okay,” you agreed, feeling self conscious of your breathy voice. His words just kept pouring over you, his voice so relaxing, so good.

“How does that feel, Y/N?”

“Fine.”

He had your leg stretched along his torso, your foot dangling over his shoulder. You clamped your eyes shut. The sight of him between your spread legs, pushing your leg toward you, had you biting your lip, trying not to make any more embarrassing noises.

“How’s this?”

“Fine.”

He hadn’t gotten close to your limit, but he went agonizingly slow. You could feel his firm abs warming your thigh through your clothes, his thin shirt not doing much to keep the press of him at bay.

“You said that your mom and your boyfriend support you. How do they do that?”

“Oh, uh,” you shook your head, trying to focus on the question, and not the gentle rocking motion he’d started as he pushed you even further.

“They help me when… They help me when I’m having bad days. They listen. They both do little different things when things are bad.”

“How’s this?”

“Still fine.”

“You can go further?”

“Yeah, I can–,” you had reached for your thigh, planning to pull it toward your chest to show him, but his eyes above you stopped you before his voice did.

“I’ll get you there, Y/N. You can hurt yourself if you rush. Can you take it slow for me?”

“Perfect,” he praised when you nodded, still gently rocking your body forward and back as he pushed, finally reaching the limit.

“That is quite the range of motion,” he noted, carefully laying that leg down to move to the other side. “May I?”

He set himself up again, moving slow as he used his body to stretch you.

“You said that they help you on bad days, is that right?”

Meeting his sharp eyes, you took a minute to understand.

“Yes, they do.”

His face tilted a bit as he pressed closer. He started that gentle rocking motion, almost thrusting against you to help your body relax.

“But Y/N, from what I’ve seen today, it seems like all of your days are bad. Aren’t they?”

“I…”

“All these years with no one to believe you. It must be hard to believe yourself sometimes. Do you think they really believe you, Y/N? Do they believe how much pain you’re in as you struggle through each day? As you stand up too fast, or brush your hair? Do you think they understand?”

He’d pushed closer, looming over you as he held your thigh against him.

“Why are you–”

“I need to make sure that my patients have the support systems they need.”

His voice had smoothed back now, from almost heated to cool and detached.

He’s the only person that’s ever seemed like they understand. He must believe me. Of course he would be passionate about it, he’s a doctor. A doctor that believes me.

Closer and closer, his eyes watching yours.

“Do they believe you?”

“I think,” you started, eyes wide as you fought more tears, “I think they try to believe me. They just… They don’t know what it’s like. They don’t understand.”

“How’s this?”

“It’s fine.”

“Alright, last push.”

Your thigh was pressed between your bodies, and he stayed there.

“Does this hurt, Y/N,” he rasped, his breath warming your face.

“No.”

He helped you stretch your leg out on the table, sitting backwards in the rolling chair before he told you to sit up.

“I believe I understand the cause of your pain, and why you’ve had a difficult time obtaining a diagnosis.”

“Can you fix it?”

Your thrill of excitement got caught in your throat at the look in his eyes, his palm up to halt your questions.

“I believe it may be a connective tissue disorder, which would explain your hypermobility, as well as the complications you’ve had with many parts of your body. You've already met the criteria for one type based on our examination today. I would like you to come back tomorrow so that we can review more of your symptoms to be sure, and to discuss treatments.”

“You can do surgery, right? Can you fix it?”

You had gestured to him, your body panicking with failing hope. A gasp left your throat as those tattooed fingers caught your hand, his thumb rubbing over your skin as his voice went low.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. This is not a condition that can be cured,” he confessed, squeezing your hand as your body slumped. “Connective tissues run throughout our entire body, and if I am correct, yours may be weaker than most. 'Loose,' as you said. Unfortunately, there is no known way to repair or replace those tissues.”

A weight fell over you, and you found yourself not quite in your body. Your body that you’d fought so hard to fix.

That can never be fixed.

The doctor pressed your hand between his, smoothing over and warming your fingers until you were present enough to meet his eyes.

“It may not be curable, Y/N, but it can be managed. You don’t need to suffer alone in such pain like you have been. I’ll do everything I can to ensure that things are better for you. Do you trust me?”

There was something so intense about his face. The way he looked at you felt heavy, like he really did see the weight you’d carried all these years. You sank into those gray eyes, and realized you did.

“I trust you, Doctor.”

“Please. Y/N,” he hummed, releasing your hand, “call me, Law.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Welcome to my frustration with the health care system 😅

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel

Part 2

#cw dark content #cw yandere #cw doctors #trafalgar law smut #eventual smut #trafalgar law x reader #one piece smut #reader insert #fem!reader #x reader #turtletaub fics #one piece x reader #trafalgar law fanfiction #fic requests #use of y/n #cw chronic pain #cw medical #smut

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moumouton4 · 10 months

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When He Wants You || Mashle Burnedead x fem!reader

A/n : I've been searching for smut for Mashle but since I didn't find any I wrote this. I hope it'll help people to have inspiration if my writing is good 😂

A/n 2 : Obviously like in the MHAs or any other anime, Mashle is aged up ✅

Warning : Nsfw, mention erection, unintentional dirty talk, kisses, Mashle is clueless as always but we love him, 18+ READERS ONLY and wrap it before you tap it

Masterlist ⚜

I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it

Word count : 511

He can't put it into words. Or really understand why it's so hot all of a sudden when you're near him

Or why the tip of his length is deliciously tingling in his brief

Everyone could feel the tension emanating from him towards you though

He was so tense he could barely control his strength. Last time, the chair had broken as he gently sat on it. Pieces flying everywhere in the classroom

His electric eyes followed your every move

Dot, who didn't have his tongue in his pocket, said in despair "Just get a room already. I can't stand you waiting in front of such a hottie"

Mashle didn't understand what Dot thought he was waiting for

Finn added "It's true you've got drool there" he pointed to the underside of his lip

Mashle looked at his friend quizzically, his eyes wearing an indifferent look

Lance continued "They're right, go and take some time with her. And Finn's right, you are drooling"

"Oh sorry" he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand

On the advice of his friends, Mashle came to find you in your dormitory. Luckily, there was no one in sight

He still doesn't know he wants you this way but he can feel the bulge forming in his pants when his eyes land on your curves

"Hey Mashle I wasn't expecting you" you smiled at your boyfriend taking him into your arms "Do you need anything ?"

"I want to eat you like I want to eat cream puffs" he said in a calm voice as if he hadn't just said something erotic

Your head snapped up trying to look into his eyes if he really meant what he just said

And then on that angelic face you saw two eyes that were ready to devour you, shouting "I want to fuck you now"

You clenched your thighs, feeling your insides clench.

M-maybe we can try. You'll tell me which one tastes better" you said chuckling

"Okay let's start then”

After undressing, you couldn't help but feel his hungry gaze on you

"You look even more appetizing than a cream puff" he said licking his lips slowly "I didn't know something like that was possible" he said holding back the drool from his mouth as best he could

His words were followed by a little blank moment before he moved towards you

smuch "Mmh-" smuch "Mashle-" smuch "Hey !" you giggled between his kisses as you tried to tell him something

"What is it ?" he asked you. It was clear that he wanted you to know. His dick pocking against your thigh was only a mere reminder

"Careful on the bed, okay. We don't want to pass through the whole floor" you warned him knowing how he already struggled to open doors without breaking them

"I'll do my best" he said genuinely believing in his words

Though you new damn well that even if you don't pass though the whole floor today, your bed was going to suffer from your boyfriend's unmatched strength

A/n : I hope you guys liked it ! 🧁🍫 Again my requests are open 🍩🍰

Taglist : @foxxymunson, @cl0vr, @ilovemanypeople, @glossy1pearl, @jane57sstuff

#mashle magic and muscles #mashle #mashle burnedead #mashle x reader #mashle smut #mashle burnedead smut #mashle x reader smut #mashle imagine #smut #miri-writes

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moonkissedvisions · 2 months

Text

Astrology observations! (Vedic, Western)

Consider:

• These observations are based on my personal experiences, intuition and knowledge, not research. Use your own discernment.

• I'm not a professional astrologer. I've been learning Western astrology since 2016 and I started learning about Vedic only 2 years ago. Astrology is one of my passions since I was really young but I didn´t focus on it as a profession. You can ask me questions or send me a message ofc :), but I don't offer any astrological readings or give professional advice.

• This is meant to be fun and entertaining, so if I said something that you didn't like or that you disagree with, be kind and don't take it personal. These are just really general observations based on 3-8 examples! If you want, we can discuss anything here as long as you are respectful.

• English is not my first language.

Now let´s read!

I never experienced true telepathy until I met a Venus conjunct Neptune man. He would look at my face and know exactly what I'm thinking and feeling, and he would be so understanding of it, even when it was something potentially hurtful to his ego. These people are psychic lovers and I'm afraid they are often seen with abusive people who take advantage of their unconditional love.

Mars-Saturn aspects in synastry is an indicator of only wanting to have sex with only this person, or could be that the couple can go for long times without being intimate and not feel like they need it.

This may sound obvious, but Ardra nakshatra people are the ones that feel so renewed by crying. They could heal A LOT by just a long crying session. And while others think "crying won't solve your problems" Ardra nakshatra people know this is so far from the truth. I am an Ardra rising and sometimes i tell my friends that i cried for hours to feel better and they are all like "if I cried like that i would feel so much worse but I'm happy for you" lol.

Hasta nakshatra men are such women worshippers. Hasta women are so maternal.

If i wanted good financial advice I would ask a Venus in the second house person. Specially women. Ik they are known overspenders but I had many good experiences with them.

In fact, I've seen some cases where people follow the advice of Taurus/2nd house individuals more often than other people's advice. They perceive it as being more valuable, I suppose.

Anuradha nakshatra individuals love movies about friendship and gore/horror movies. I think they like movies in general too.

Krittika nakshatra people are often perceived as "mean" or they say things that others take too personally? Idk but I know 3 cases like that. They are so unapologetic. The 3 of them were perceived as asexual too.

As a Swati moon I've always been obsessed with beauty, decorating, fashion and clothes, putting on creams, balms, perfumes and other products and it makes sense!

My obsession with beauty wasn't healthy tho. I suffered from mental illness and could see the slightest imperfection on my face. That's another thing about Swati individuals, they perceive every subtle, small detail and may become obsessed with stuff easily.

True crime documentaries are a Ketu woman´s best friend. Probably Ketu men as well, although what i observed from them is more of adventure movies, movies about survival or nature documentaries. Teen Wolf is the perfect Ketu people TV show. Criminal Minds too. And they were both created by a Ketu man.

I love Mercury nakshatra women's voices. They are also so funny and sarcastic.

I know three cases of people with a mix of tropical pisces/neptune and aquarius/uranus having lucid dreams/dreams they can partially control, and dreams about flying. They also rarely have nightmares but when they do it's not something happening to them but to other people, and they are there trying to help lol.

Rahu women or rahuvians in general could feel like they don't even understand themselves sometimes. They're so independent and hard to tame that they feel like they need something to "control" them or some kind of restraint, but nothing feels effective or worth it at the end. I observed in my grandma, a Swati moon woman, that she used to brag about how independent she was, refused to stay married, hated feeling restrained so much and then she ended up wishing someone took care of her, gave energy and time to her, took the lead for her. She doesn´t necessarily regret being someone unconventional and independent, but she recognizes that now that she is old.

Uttara Bhadrapada and Rohini nakshatra people like learning and are so curious about some aspects of sex, they may even want to be sexologists. Could also apply to Ardra.

Cancer women get a lot of hate for apparently no reason. I even heard people saying they hate Cancer women as if they knew all Cancer women in the world?? I think the most simple explanation for that is that Cancer represents a lot of what's a woman's nature and power which are erased in a patriarchy.

Everyone talks about how Aries people get over anger so easily and never hold grudges but I've actually seen the opposite. In a lot of cases they are worse than the common "resentful" water and earth signs.

Aries in general have a hard time apologizing. It's like they never did anything wrong, the others were just unfair to them. I know SO MANY examples of this unhealthy expression.

A nice observation now lol is that I've never met an Aries that didn't have beautiful red lips and cheeks.

I noticed a lot of Moon and some Mars people have a significant amount of moles/freckles. The Spanish word for mole is lunar lol.

People with Mercury/Saturn aspects or Saturn in the third house felt "dumb" when young. Because of it, they made a lot of efforts and worked hard to know stuff and be smart by reading a lot of books, watching a lot of documentaries and educational videos, playing general knowledge games, learning a lot of words and languages, taking a lot of classes, playing memory games, chess, and even researching cognitive processes and brain health.

I've noticed that many Sun dominant women have this lowkey unhealthy expression of not being good friends with other women/feminine individuals. They're the type to say women are a lot of drama or that they can't connect with them even though they don't have a specific problem with women. They may be friends with only guys, or feel isolated from women. They also used to want to be a guy or dressed/still dresses tomboyish (there isn't anything wrong with that). I think in a way it's completely understandable and even healthy! But some of them express a lot of internalized misogyny and unconscious projections that they can't or don't want to recognize. When their expression is healthy, Sun dominant people are totally the warmest, best friends. And just the type of person others need around and in their life.

Saturn in the 5th house people are often self-taught artists. Some people perceive them as boring because they can be really afraid of expressing themselves. They give a lot in romantic relationships and often don´t get the same in return but they want to keep going because they care about loving more than being loved.

Sagittarius people make good parents in general and they are so underrated as parents. They give their children freedom, make them experience fun things like traveling, and often spoil them in a good sense! They also teach them a lot of valuable things and make them laugh!

Virgos are the most considerate and thoughtful people. They remember stuff about you even if you barely know them and they barely know you. They give you what you need at the right moment. They remember how you make your bed, how you fold your clothes and then they surprise you with an act of service. They know exactly what to gift each person.

Saturn dominant people/saturn in the first house/conj ascendant could suffer from a lot of anxiety and overthinking. They also criticize themselves for irrelevant stuff and that's so sad because everytime I'm near a saturn dominant I can't get enough of their energy! There is something really pleasant about them. They are also giving, considerate and nice hosts/hostesses. They make people feel included and heard. I made a personal observation about saturn nakshatra men here (based in this video)

Ceres-ascendant aspects/Ceres in the 1st are the perfect homemakers.

Thank you for reading! See you in next post :)

Here you can see my last pac reading <3

images from pinterest, dividers by @muruffin

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