#but everything after is practically sacred

[drabblesbyjubs]

Just Need Time

Astarion x gn! Tav Reader, Astarion is pent up but also wants to please the reader, he makes himself want to have sex with reader but reader stops him and helps him figure out what he really wants. Fluff, smut, a little bit of angst. Minors DNI

Tws// mentions of sexual trauma, Astarion’s backstory stuff, mild disassociation for a few minutes, trauma, mild spoilers for non ascended Astarion’s ending, sexual content and smut

.

I want everyone to know that I got stuck working an 8 hour shift as a cashier on my last day of work so I wrote this between customers, enjoy and here’s to my new job

Time with Astarion is sacred.

After nearly losing him multiple times throughout your journey to rid yourselves of the mind flayer parasite, you’d come to appreciate every second you spent with him. Every moment during the day, snuggling and spending time with one another, and spending the nights running through Faerûn and enjoying the adrenaline of exploration, it was all beyond precious to you both.

But especially to Astarion. For the first time in two centuries, he belonged to himself; he could go where he wanted, do what he wanted, be what he wanted. He was free.

That didn’t mean he was alright, though.

Being with you had helped. You’d shown him freedom, devotion, and everything he’d ever wished he could have had in a partner. But part of his mind was still stuck in that dark, dank crypt, the smell of mildew festering in his lungs, the fear at the sound of every footstep lurking in his heart. The nights he was let out, but not to be free, only to use his body to gain some innocent soul’s trust and bring them back for him to take out his most wretched fantasies on.

Astarion was usually the victim of these fantasies, but if Cazador truly did what he wished with Astarion, well, there would be no more Astarion to take out those fantasies on.

Those memories plagued his mind nearly every night. He often woke from the nightmares feeling utterly emotionless, numb to the world. Fear aches low in his heart, and he would roll over and scoot up to you. You took him in to your arms with no question; you already knew.

Sometimes he would jolt out of bed, too enveloped by the memories to realize it was you next to him. He would become defensive, either scared of you or insisting you leave before he came back. When he snapped back to reality, he was utterly humiliated, but you never shamed him, always made him feel like everything would be okay, and he would forget about the terrors of the night before by the time you two set out for adventure after sunset.

He wanted more than anything to be like a normal person; completely comfortable in his relationship, never a fear that things would go awry, blindly trusting and accepting of everything you did. You understood why he couldn’t be like that, and did your best to make him feel as close to normal as he ever could. And gods, did he love you for that. You were utterly hypnotizing, he would tear out his heart with a stake if you asked him; hell, he would carve the stake himself. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for you.

And even if you assured him he owed you nothing at all, not even a passing glance, he wanted to give you something to make you happy.

He often gave you wildflowers, knowing you always liked the bright colors and soft petals, or smooth, shiny rocks he found down by the creek, or little rings and necklaces he bought with his dwindling gold supply when the two of you went in to town. But he still often felt like the only thing he could do right enough to truly make others happy was sex.

It was practiced, it was routine. Use his body to make someone feel good, make a few pretty faces, and it was done. There was something safe in the familiarity of it, though the sheer gut wrenching disgust that followed after never sit right with him.

You hadn’t hesitated to agree when Astarion had asked if you two could stop having sex for a while. Your sexual activity had dwindled anyways; you’d often told him you were just tired, or wanted to make sure you had plenty of energy for the coming day. Part of him knew you could tell he didn’t really want it, but he chose to believe you just wanted a break, and it was relieving to not have to perform. It was a weight off of his shoulders.

But more recently, he’d been pent up. He found himself craving release; of course he thought of coming to you for help, but the thought of having to perform, to make you feel good and owe you that pleasure after he takes his own, it sent a writhing sensation under his skin. As much as he liked the thought of seeing your eyes filled with arousal, he didn’t want that feeling of perform. Continue. No choice. Earn your life, bring him someone.

But he wanted to make you happy. He had done this so many times before; why not once more, just to see you satisfied? You must be pent up as well after so long of dealing with his unwillingness to give you something so simple. It was the least he could do. He would achieve the release he’d began to crave, you would be happy, and he would know you would stay with him and know he cared for you.

..

Astarion rolled above you, that mischievous smirk on his face as he looked down at you. You laughed softly, rolling your eyes. “Someone’s in a playful mood tonight,” you teased, to which Astarion hummed.

“Whoever could that be?” He muttered, leaning down and capturing you in a kiss. You felt his tongue swipe across your lower lip, but before you could grant him entrance, he pulled away, before moving to mouth softly at your neck. You hummed, your chest fluttering as you inhaled. You could feel his lips move against you, his tongue swiping over the scars of old bites, his canines brush dangerously over the delicate skin of your neck.

You put your hands on his chest and muttered, “Mmh, Astarion, what’s going on?”

“Hmm?” He hummed in a questioning tone.

“You don’t normally act like this,” you breathed. “Is everything okay?”

“So sweet for asking,” he murmured. “Just pent up. I want you, if you’ll have me.”

You scanned over his face; nothing seemed off. He seemed genuine. You weren’t sure why he was offering though; this wasn’t like him. Maybe he was actually just pent up?

“You promise you’ll tell me to stop if it’s too much?”

“Of course, love,” he breathed against your neck, softly nipping at the skin there, threatening to break skin.

You nod, hands running up his sides. “Okay. As long as you promise.”

Astarion gave a pleased sound, his hands snaking under your shirt. Calloused fingertips brushed against your skin, before pulling your shirt up above your head and leaning down to kiss at your shoulders, mouth at your collarbones, and nip at your chest.

You gave a shaky sigh, your hand running over his back, savoring the way he arched against the touch. He was good at this, no doubt, but it always hurt you to think of *why.*

Astarion leaned back, staring down at you almost hungrily. He pulled his own shirt over his head, and you leaned up to run your hands over his chest and his stomach, before leaning in to kiss at the little dimple between his collarbones. He was always finicky about kissing his neck, especially on the side Cazador bit him on, and you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable, so you stuck to his shoulders and chest for now.

His hands found your waist, and as you pulled away from him, you saw the slightest flicker of hesitation in his eyes before he pushed you down to the bedroll and pulled your hips up against his, softly grinding against the curve of your ass.

You weren’t worried about that, though; you saw the way his eyes had slowly grown foggy and distant, the loss of expression, and the way his touches became almost rhythmic, nearly robotic; practiced and routine.

“Stop,” you said.

Astarion snapped out of it in an instant, present here and now once more. “Are you alright? Did I do something wrong?”

“Hun,” you leaned up, scooting your hips apart from his and gently cupping his cheek. “You don’t want this. I can see it in your eyes.”

“I do!” Astarion insisted, “Gods, I want this, please, I’m sorry, just let me-“ he hurriedly began grabbing at your hips, trying to pull you closer,

“Darling, stop.” You said, more assertively this time. His shoulders slumped and the look in his eyes broke your heart; he looked desperate, but not for sex. He looked so disappointed in himself.

“Come here,” you whispered, pulling him in for a hug. “Do you remember when I told you you don’t owe me anything?” He didn’t hug you back, but his forehead rested against your shoulder, and he gave a brisk little nod.

“But I do want it,” he said. “I just… I don’t want to have to give back, or be touched, or just… I don’t know, but I want something, and I-“

You hushed him, sensing his growing stress, running your fingers through his hair. You turned to kiss his temple, and he gave a happy little sound.

“I think I get it. You want to keep your control of your body, but don’t want to have to feel like you owe me pleasure either?” You questioned. He gave a brisk little nod.

“That’s alright. Astarion, we don’t have to do anything like this, I never want your to feel pressured, and-“

“But I do want… something like this.” He rebutted. “I just… want a little. I don’t know. I really am pent up. I’ve tried handling it myself, time and time again… I’ll sneak off into the woods and… and try and rid myself of these desires. But it… just… never works. I cant… I just cant. Not alone.”

You furrowed your brow, feeling just how embarrassed he was with the way he shuffled and squirmed against you, clutching at your sides.

“You mean… you can’t touch yourself, or..?”

“I can’t finish,” he corrected, his words rushed and jumbled.

“Oh,” you said. You kept running your fingers through his hair, taking a moment to think. You could tell how much this embarrassed him, just by how he was acting. “That’s alright, Astarion. What do you want me to do to help?”

“I… don’t know,” he breathed. “I just… I’m frustrated, i need something..”

“Would it be too much for me to touch you like that right now?” You asked him.

He nodded his head, and you pulled back, looking at him as you gently cupped his cheek in your hand. “Use your words, baby boy.”

Red eyes looked up to meet your own, and you couldn’t help but smile at him, if only to comfort him. “Yes, i think that would be too much right now. Maybe… maybe I could… i could touch myself and you can just… be here?”

You flushed a little with his words, but you nodded and kissed the tip of his nose, savoring the way he smiled.

“That sounds wonderful,” you said. “Here,” you began shifting him and yourself.

You moved so he was laying on his side, you laying behind him. Your chest was pressed to his, and you felt the full body shudder that went through him. “This okay?” You asked, and he nodded. You cuddled up to his back, and hummed to him, “Then go ahead, my love. Do what you want.”

Astarion shuddered and you could feel him moving to slip a hand under the hem of his pants. You gently rested a hand on his hip, not sensing anything saying he disliked the touch. His breathing slowly started to pick up, and you could feel him palming himself softly before slipping his cock from his trousers. You hummed your approval, whispering to him, “That’s a good boy.” He whined low in his throat, and you felt his arm start to move as he began stroking himself. You couldn’t see at this angle, but you felt the way his body would slowly start tensing, his chest rising, could see the way he tried to bury his face in the pillow, knowing you were right behind him as he touched himself.

You muttered soft coos of approval to him as he chased his pleasure, each of your words making his breath hitch just a little more.

You hummed, “So good for me, my love, making yourself feel good. Love watching you like this.”

You could so easily ignore your own arousal if it meant you got to witness his. He was beautiful.

Astarion gasped, “D-darling, gods… the way you talk to me, hah, makes me… fuck, I need it…” he trembled and began stroking himself faster, throwing his head back against your shoulder. You smiled against his neck and kissed the pale skin softly, feeling the way it made his entire body shudder. His breathing slowly turned in to whines, desperate and strained.

Your hand ran up to his chest, brushing over the soft skin, savoring the little twitch he gave when your hand ran over his nipples, moving to feel over his rib cage as you whispered how beautiful he was, making himself feel good like this.

You kissed his temple, the saltiness of his sweat clinging to your lips. You caught a glimpse of that beautiful face when he tilted it back to arch himself; brow furrowed, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. “Gods,” you breathed, his red eyes fluttering open. You leaned up to kiss him, not even attempting to look down and see him desperately chasing his release, knowing that catching a glimpse may be too much for him.

You buried your face back in his neck, and he gave a high pitched whine, gasping, “C-can’t… fuck, love, ah, please, I can’t do it, please, help me,” the last words came out as a mere whisper, and you could feel how frantically he was moving in attempting to chase his release. Worried he would hurt himself, you whispered to him, your hand slowly trailing down his hips to rest on his upper thigh.

“May I touch you?” You asked.

“Please,” he nearly sobbed, letting himself go and grabbing your wrist to guide you to his cock. You wrapped your hand around him, heavy and hot in your palm. He was so hard, gods it must have hurt.

You stroked him softly, your thumb swiping over his tip and smearing his precum over himself. He whimpered, still holding your wrist, and you could feel the way his entire body trembled. “Please,” he whispered.

You kissed the back of his neck, mouthing at the flesh there softly as you set your pace, stroking him and smearing his pre over the head, making your hand much slicker to give him a feeling that, if his whimpers and trembles said anything, must be quite lovely.

He jolted and whined, his cock twitching in your hand. You could tell he was close, losing himself to the pleasure, one hand having a death grip on your wrist and the other tangled in the furs of the bedroll. You’d never seen him so lost to himself.

He gasped, “I’m gonna-!” Not even able to get out his warning before your felt his release coating your hand. You stroked him through his orgasm, savoring his gasps, catching the slightest glimpse of a furrowed brow and open mouth, eyes squeezed shut, tears threatening to spill from the corners.

“That’s it, hun,” you breathed to him. “That’s a good boy. Let go for me.”

You kept stroking him until he gave a particularly harsh jolt, with which you withdrew your hand and wiped it on some miscellaneous clothing tossed near your bedroll. You kissed the back of his neck, savoring the silence for a moment.

Astarion was the first to speak. “Thank you,” he said.

“I hope it was to your liking. It wasn’t too much?”

“No, it was wonderful. I… needed that. Do… you want me to take care of you?” He rolled over to face you, glancing down to your trousers. You could see the unease stirring in his eyes at the thought alone

You shook your head. “Tonight was about you. I’m just happy I got to see that pretty face when you came,” you teased, fighting a laugh at Astarion’s shocked and embarrassed expression.

“Gods, you’re truly insufferable sometimes.”

“Same to you, my love,” you teased, kissing the tip of his nose and pulling him in close. You pulled a blanket up over his waist to give him some cover, to which he hummed his appreciation and nuzzled in to your chest, sleep catching the both of you and luring you into its embrace.

#astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion headcanons #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 #bg3 headcanons #astarion smut #astarion fluff #x reader

[elvirable]

Ambrosia (Act 1)

[ Astarion x f!Reader ] | ao3 link

rating: explicit | word count: 2k | status: ongoing themes/tags: vaginal sex, feelings realization, denial of feelings, light smut.. for now, and a whole lotta angst, will add more smut tho in the next chapters, soulmates, fluff, written as a glimpse into his mind during each act ———–

Astarion would never tell you, though - it was his little secret, one he hid away just for himself.

In other words: A delve into Astarion's thoughts, starting with the day he met you. *will update description at some point. ———– A/N: i wrote this as a peek into Astarion's mind throughout Act 1. plan to continue as i progress throughout the game. lmk what you think and if you like this style!

-------

Grief had a penchant for wearing different masks.

Phantom faces that slithered through shadows, white-hot wrath that clawed at the throat, an endless gnawing that swallowed one whole: all faces of a primordial monster that had existed before time itself.

Astarion knew all this. 

He had met them all – intimate with its simplest form, a cold polarizing solitude; a loyal companion for two centuries, teaching him to lick his wounds with malice. Others had taken everything from him, or they were too weak to lift a meaningful finger. It took several lifetimes to finally mend his precious pride back together. Why should he practice mercy when no one had shown him any?

And by some stroke of luck, he was free – at least for now. Opportunity had fallen before his feet; he could chase after power, clutch revenge in his pale fingers, walk amongst the sun. Red eyes clung to the light glimmering across the water and wavering leaves. A desperate urge pulsed up his spine, insisting he memorize each saturated detail before it faded away like the most ethereal dream. The exhilaration rose wildly before plummeting to the pits of his stomach.

Huh, that was odd. It had never dawned on him that grief could also bloom in the slow, golden sunlight.

Languid beams washed against his flesh and through the faint hem of his shirt. Every fiber of his skin ached, dull and shallow, at the sacred warmth that had been a stranger for so long. He felt this haunted and holy gift – the vigor of life from each ray of light running over his fair face. Reunited once again, like long-lost lovers.

It was the sound of boots thudding against dirt that pulled him back into the world, on the ravaged beachfront. 

With straight posture, a hollow smile painted itself across his lips. ==

“You have your mother’s eyes, you know.”

No, he didn’t know.

Quiet was this small voice that, for some odd reason, had grasped onto his conscience the night he died. It had sung loud in the beginning, but now it was just a whisper. Everything else had reduced to dust, long-buried beneath the cold earth. 

But if he could conjure the ghost of his mother, he couldn’t be bothered to. Astarion envisioned a sharp tsk , a scowl dripping with disgust if she could see the creature he was today: a thrall to his own hedonistic desires, wielding manipulation and seduction as an instrument. A vampire , taking solace amongst the shadows and draining the life around him.

Maybe he was the same, just calloused and rearranged by the fate spun for him. 

However, there was no need to exhume the past. It proved futile anyway; he couldn’t even recall the previous hue of his eyes, much less run his hands over his reflection. The only thing worthy of concern was survival. Memories had been shrouded by the same pivotal virtue, the one that carved the habit to become shapeless – to cater to every impulse and whim of those who could serve useful. Those who could protect him, at least for the time being.

And that was exactly what he tried with you, as his breath was inches from your slender neck and your eyes widened in hazy alarm, catching him by surprise. 

“Shit.”

You scuttered to your feet in the frantic silence, dozens of excuses fluttering to Astarion’s tongue. The fatigue of bloodthirst hindered his wit, but he raised his palms in reservation.

He had already taken note of your misleading presence – you were small, but heavens , would you put up a fight. Other companions had already turned towards you for guidance the past few days, and you were carved with a beauty that could intimidate. Though, there were cracks underneath that facade – ones with darkness in between. 

Peering into these cracks was his only outlet to earn your trust; after all, it was paramount for survival.

“I – I wasn’t going to hurt you,” exasperated breaths pushed from his throat. “I just needed, well.. blood.”

Basked in the dim firelight, your wary gaze studied him for what he really was: a vampire, a slave to sanguine hunger. He caught the stutter in your furrowed brows before they eased. Smug delight settled in his nerves when you, although with apprehension, allowed him to taste you.

Astarion eagerly obliged, immediately losing himself in the euphoria– the sweet vigor of your blood, how silky and rich. A low hum vibrated in his throat, and he barely registered when your palms pushed his broad weight off of you. Lush satisfaction that quenched his blood-thirst still coursed through him like a stimulant, but he still caught the tail-end of your groan.

“I don’t care that you’re a vampire. Just –,” you paused briefly to reel from your daze. “We’re all a team now, so I have to have some trust in you. Just ask next time.”

He felt happy, more alive – not only from the fresh blood still lingering on his tongue, but that you trusted him. Maybe not entirely, but the anchor had already been dropped; one step closer to wrapping you around his finger, even if you weren’t entirely flexible. He could feel it in your gaze, in the little quivers that rolled through you while his fangs sunk into your soft skin.

Once you had returned to sleep and his frenzied nerves quelled, he mulled over your parting words. You weren’t phased’ that he was a vampire, instead placing emphasis on trust. You were full of surprises – especially when the entire world met him with repulse.

Something that had been fossilized inside him tremored, as if it began to thaw. ==

There was a thin chill in the evening air, in the way nature prepares for a new season. And he hated you. 

Well, he didn’t hate you – frankly, he couldn’t get enough of you; that was the issue. 

You plagued his thoughts like a helpless addiction, better yet like a mirror; one he had repeatedly peered into, struggling to find the right angle and when he did – he was left staring at you.

Those careful eyes – a mocking reminder of everything he could have been. So different, so resilient, so disgustingly kind.

Since the day he laid eyes on you, he was the first to glimpse at your secret hidden in plain sight. Your habit of hiding yourself from everyone you came across, retreating behind stone-bared walls and tailoring a facade just enough to avoid drawing attention. Reserved lips were a mere confirmation you sealed away a vault of grief that you didn’t want – or need – clumsy, temporary hands to pry open. 

That discreet resolve particularly made you the sour dagger twisting between his ribs. Grief had been your companion as well, but its mark never trickled from anywhere else – not a warbled voice or frustrated bout. It was only noticeable through a fleeting glint in your eyes. Meanwhile, he had made this medley of rage and anguish his armor. It had fused to skin, and he no longer knew how to scrape it off. Astarion dedicated decades to cursing the Gods. You ignored them.

He knew he should despise you and eagerly await the day he could shatter this mirror you were – but all bitterness dissolved in your presence. You had become his wonderfully terrible affliction; withdrawals could damn near kill him if they were to happen.

Ribbons unraveled from his chest with each conversation, whether it pertained to the graveness of the journey or a simple ‘good morning’ from your lips. Strange yet blissful, he could feel himself surrendering every bitter pang for the peculiar sensation of… comfort .

Once laced with such harshness, his mind eased with familiarity. An interesting chord of harmony, he thought, the two of you. From the start of the journey until now, you shared an enriching balance. He would encourage you to be more outspoken, while you stirred him to be authentic and soft – even if you weren’t aware. 

You were stable like bedrock; never once expecting to be selfless or pious, instead only demanded transparency – at least to the extent he was willing to concede. Aside from the occasional brow-raise or retort, judgment never twisted your face. Respect was a new sensation to him, as you gave him yours.

This dynamic, this balance ; it was irresistibly and invariably warm. 

==

The rendezvous sort of just fell into habit. 

Every night he would savor the ambrosia from your neck, and one evening tension gave way to carnal desire. Whether it was a simple cathartic release or not, he didn’t care; tender moments bathed in amber firelight or the hush of the night had always left him craving more.

“You’re such a tease .”

You’d whisper those words every so often those sacred nights, and a rakish grin would slide across his face without fail. Lust gripped him, but never once weaved with routine; the way your legs parted to invite him in left Astarion with an insatiable urge to indulge in everything you were willing to give him. He could spend the entire evening with his head between your thighs, cold hands steadying your quivering legs as his tongue lured you to new heights of pleasure – giving you exactly what you needed. 

When he was with you – skin pressed together, desperate hums like honey – he began to relish in taking things slow. 

He preferred the nights where your bare body writhed beneath him and melted against his, while he eagerly coaxed wispy whines from your lips. No matter how wet and ready you were, his girth always met resistance as he parted your warm, sensitive walls. Your skin buzzed at the sensation of his cock splitting you open, like every time was the first you’ve been touched.

Desire laced every word he whispered into the curve of your neck, each encouraging and soft. His pace was slow, pushing into the depth of your core, buried deep enough to kiss your cervix with each thrust. Low, guttural grunts left his throat as your body’s natural instinct clenched around his throbbing cock. 

Despite his centuries of experience, he found himself struggling to restrain from succumbing to the all-consuming euphoria of it all: your lashes wet from your tears, precious gasps warm against his skin, the desirous ache to fuck you the way that pretty face beckoned to be fucked. 

The unbridled intimacy – which felt so real and tender was enough to send him over the edge. His veins hummed with yearning as he drank in the vision beneath him; your skin flushed, shaky whines that sung his name as he pushed you to pleasure. And when you wrapped your legs to press him deeper – he surrendered to the white-hot bliss. 

Although Astarion would never tell a soul, his most treasured moments were spent after desperate breaths calmed and the entire world stilled.

It was never long before you lulled into sleep, and your weight slacked against his broad chest. He lingered over each detail with softer eyes; the gentle curl of your lashes, a freckle he had missed the last time. Peace graced such beautiful features, ones that were usually still with resolve. There had never been another face quite like yours in the two centuries he had lurked amongst the earth.

Your chest rose and fell slowly before you would eventually fidget, still deep in slumber, to slink an arm over his waist. His gentle hand grasped the one that rested against his chest, careful not to stir you, as he ran his fingers over your silk skin. Such delicate hands, he mused, that had to grapple their way through life.

He pressed a silent kiss against the back of your palm before laying it back on his chest. 

In the silence, something washed over him – that rousing feeling that he never knew quite what to make of. 

His eyes swept once more to watch the shuffle of your face, buried now against his side. Your hazy sighs warmed his bare skin. Astarion could almost laugh, imagining your face reddening if he ever shared how affectionate you were in your sleep.

Though he would never tell you – it was his little secret, one he hid away just for himself.

#astarion #bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion brainrot #astarion x mc #baldurs gate iii #astarion fanfic #astarion romance #astarion smut #astarion fluff #astarion angst #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 reader #bg3 smut #baldurs gate fanfiction

[asdfghjklmals]

GRADUATION✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. mentions mental health. WORD COUNT: 3.4k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc. lover girl!oc. high school lovers.

SYNOPSIS: satoru and oc gojo girlfriend finally graduate from tokyo jujutsu high school! AUTHOR'S NOTE: happy easter and graduation season for those who are graduating this year! 💚 i realized that when i was writing this, oc gojo girlfriend loves satoru so much. i used to write that satoru loved her more, but after this fic, i'm not so sure lol. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions, please do!

tokyo jujutsu high library

“who’s most likely to be on the bachelor?” you asked your bestfriend, shoko ieiri.

even though he wasn’t graduating this year, you and shoko both said in unison, “kento nanami.”

you giggled at the thought of how uncomfortable nanami would be as a bachelor contestant, “you know nanami would absolutely hate being on the bachelor though.”

shoko nodded her head in agreement while reading the other high school superlatives. “what about life of the party?”

again in unison, “satoru gojo.”

“how about this one?” shoko asked, “most likely to sleep through an earthquake.”

“if that’s not me, it has to be tsumiki.” you laughed out loud, knowing that your sleep was sacred to you and nothing could wake you up, “—and worst case of senioritis goes to you, shoko.”

shoko couldn’t disagree with that superlative. she grinned and read the next prompt.

“cutest couple obviously goes to you and gojo.” shoko chuckled before sighing. she pursed her lips, “ah—best bromance…”

“you already know who that should’ve went to,” you said with a soft frown, “satoru has been having a hard time this week—he thinks he’s good at hiding his emotions from me, but i know him too well.”

this week was your graduation ceremony for your whopping class of 3 tokyo jujutsu high sorcerers. jujutsu high school graduations weren’t that big of a celebration like most traditional high school graduations, but it was still important for the school to commemorate their young sorcerers on graduating—and also even making it to graduation given the dangers of being a sorcerer.

suguru geto, who was also known as satoru’s other half, his one and only, wasn’t able to be here to graduate with you, shoko, and satoru due to his decision to go his own way. suguru had a different vision in life, and he decided to leave everything behind to achieve it—including leaving behind his bestfriend, satoru. (read ‘to be present’ here)

shoko sighed as you looked back at her. it must’ve also been hard on shoko, who was a part of their trio. sashisu was shoko’s, satoru’s, and suguru’s group name. they were practically inseparable before you came along.

“suguru should’ve been here too.” shoko said quietly.

you patted her back softly, a measly attempt to comfort her, “i know.”

you heard the library door slide open, satoru waltzed through the door with a blue lollipop in his hand.

“you done perfecting your valedictorian speech yet?” satoru asked as he sat down beside you, kicking his feet on top of the library table as you and shoko closed out of the yearbook superlative tab.

you smiled warmly at him, “yeah, it’s been done.”

of course you were the valedictorian of your class. you took your studies very seriously compared to shoko and satoru. not only were you the valedictorian, but you also planned the graduation dinner that followed the very short ceremony. as the student body president, you had a lot to take care of this past month.

“can’t wait to hear it,” satoru said with a grin, “i better be getting a shoutout in your speech.”

“a shoutout for what?” shoko teased, “being (y/n)’s biggest pain in the ass the past three years she’s been here?”

satoru gasped, “more like being the biggest love of her life! if it wasn’t for jujutsu high, she would have never met me, shoko!”

you laughed at the two bantering back and forth before staring out into the distance. it was beautiful sunny day. tomorrow, you'd be graduates.

later that night

you shot a glare at your boyfriend, “satoru, did you iron your uniform for tomorrow like i asked you to?”

he smiled innocently at you, tilting his frosty head to the side in his attempt to look cute—which meant 'whoops, no'.

you sighed and held out your hands while satoru passed you his uniform with a grin, attempting to sneak a kiss on your cheek. you tried your best not to burst out laughing. hell, you were so in love with this man.

you popped off his jujutsu high pins and set them on his nightstand before stepping out of his room to head to the campus laundry room.

you heard satoru call out to you as you walked down the hallway.

“thanks sweetheart! i love you!”

a smile danced across your face. that satoru gojo whom you loved so silly, what were you going to do with him?

as you waited for the iron to heat up, you recited your graduation speech in your head. you were nervous. what if you tripped down the stairs while you grabbed your diploma from principal yaga? what if you messed up your valedictorian speech? or worse, what if you embarrassed yourself in front of the entire jujutsu high faculty and alumni?

"your forehead is going to have lines for days if you don't stop scowling."

you turned around at the familiar voice. satoru had come to find you.

"you can pay for my botox then." you retorted, sighing as you turned around to face him.

"what could your pretty little head be thinking about?" satoru asked. he hated to see anything but a smile on your face. “i know it’s not about how much you love me.”

you scoffed and chewed on your bottom lip before you grabbed the iron, gliding it down satoru's uniform.

"i'm worried i'm going to trip down the stairs, mess up my speech, or just completely embarrass myself in front of the jujutsu high faculty and alumni."

satoru gave you the ‘are you kidding me’ look and took the hot iron from your hands. he set it down on the ironing board and grabbed your shoulders.

"look at me." he commanded before resting his finger under your chin to guide your face to his, "sweetheart, the (y/n) (l/n) i know is perfect in every way. you walk confidently like this world is yours even in the highest heels, so i know for a fact that you won't trip down the stairs. you are a natural born leader and people gravitate towards you, so i know that your speech will grab everyone’s attention. you won't mess up because you've been working on this for the last month, i know that because i've been right by your side while you recited your speech a million times. and lastly, you won't embarrass yourself in front of everyone because you're perfect in almost every way. you're the pride and joy of the jujutsu community."

you pouted your lips and tilted your head to the side, "perfect in almost every way?"

"you're mean to me—" satoru teased before pressing a kiss against your lips, "—you don't kiss me in the mornings. which is a deduction to your perfect score."

you giggled as he peppered kisses on your cheek. one of your love languages was words of affirmation, and satoru gojo sure knew how to make you feel affirmed. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and held him close.

"i guess this meanie will sleep with the kids tonight." you whispered as you bantered back with satoru, knowing he'd rather sleep next to you than sleep alone.

he paused and squeezed you tightly before replying to your retort, "wait, i like you even though you're mean. you can bully me all you want, i don't mind."

yours and satoru's laughter filled the laundry room. he didn't think he could get enough of your precious laugh. he'd say any ridiculous thing to help take your mind off of your worries.

the next day: graduation day

"thank you for coming to the 2010 jujutsu high school gradation ceremony." principal yaga began, "after we hear from both myself and principal gakuganji, we will listen to the speeches from the valedictorians of both high schools."

you sat between satoru and shoko, your legs would not stop bouncing in nervousness. after each speech, your heart started to race even faster as your turn came.

"and lastly, we saved the best for last. the valedictorian of tokyo jujutsu high school, (y/n) (l/n), will be giving her speech."

the crowed filled with jujutsu high faculty, alumni, a large amount of jujutsu clans including the gojo clan and your clan started to clap as their eyes followed you to the stage. satoru gave you an encouraging smile and squeezed your hand. he whispered ‘you'll be amazing.’ to you before he let your hand go. you gave him a soft smile before getting out of your seat.

you walked down the side of the auditorium and up the steps to the microphone.

"thank you for gathering here today to celebrate the 4 long years of training, learning, and dealing with satoru gojo." the crowed erupted in laughter as you winked at satoru. he shot a grin back at you.

“i'd like to start off with a moment of silence to remember our fallen comrades and past alumni who have sacrificed their lives to become sorcerers and to protect our community. they have our gratitude and highest appreciation.”

as you gave yourself and the crowd a moment of silence, your heart raced. you were so nervous, your hands started trembling as you fiddled with your printed speech in front of you.

'you won't mess up because you've been working on this for the last month, i know that because i've been right by your side while you recited your speech a million times.'

memories of satoru's encouraging words from last night filled your head as you took a deep breath to continue on with your speech.

"3 years ago, i joined tokyo jujutsu high because i wanted to get away from being home schooled and i wanted to experience this thing called life." you looked out into the crowd to see your clan, quietly watching you. "i didn't know what i was getting myself into at the time, but i have to say, the past three years have been some of the hardest, but most rewarding." (read 'love at first fight' here)

you thought back on the gruesome hand-to-hand combat trainings with mei mei, the tiring, long, and dangerous missions exorcising curses with satoru, suguru, yu, and nanami, the late night study sessions for exams with shoko. as difficult as it was, you'd do it all over... especially if you could meet satoru again.

"i'd like to give a huge shoutout to yaga-sensei, congratulations on your promotion to principal—and thank you for taking on not only two, but three special grade sorcerers during my time here."

a cheer for your sensei, masamichi yaga, erupted through the auditorium as you, satoru, and shoko clapped alongside the crowd.

"this evening is not only about celebrating our academic achievements as students, but also to celebrate becoming official jujutsu sorcerers. now i know that being a jujutsu sorcerer isn't for the faint of heart, nor is it an easy job. it's gruesome, painful not only physically, but mentally. which is why i'm happy to announce that our very own shoko ieiri is going to be hired on as our official in-house doctor for jujutsu high. she will oversee both tokyo and kyoto locations. congrats, shoko!"

applause began for shoko as she stood up from her seat and waved to the crowd. you smiled brightly at your bestfriend—even though you knew she cheated on a majority of her tests. however, shoko's talent in reversed cursed technique was second to none. she would be an amazing doctor, legit or not.

"one thing that happened during my 3 years here at tokyo jujutsu high school that changed my life for the better was—"

satoru muttered, attempting to finish your sentence, "—meeting satoru gojo."

"—becoming a guardian to megumi and tsumiki fushiguro. courtesy of satoru gojo." you laughed, "which i'm also happy to announce that satoru and i will be returning next year to join the tokyo jujutsu high faculty and staff. satoru will be in charge of training first year students while i will be the administrative secretary for both tokyo and kyoto jujutsu high locations." (read 'learn to love' here)

you cleared your throat, "now that we've shared the fun and exciting plans for your three graduates from tokyo jujutsu high school, i'd like to talk about something on a heavier note. those of you who know, know that there was supposed to be 4 students graduating today..."

you felt a lump in your throat, the thought of suguru geto not being here with you, satoru, and shoko shattered a piece of your heart. you were sure satoru and shoko were thinking of him in this moment as well.

"—because of this loss, as the future administrative secretary, i will be implementing reviews and mental health checks on all of our students every quarter. i believe that we need to check in on our students. my office doors will always be open to those who need a shoulder to lean on."

you understood that the idea of mental health was taboo, especially here in japan—but you knew that if you and satoru were going to be raising the next generation of jujutsu sorcerers, that you both were going to make a difference in the lives of your future students. megumi and tsumiki also encouraged that decision, as you and satoru did not want to see them suffer the same fate as suguru.

a loud applause struck the auditorium. satoru smiled proudly as he knew that you were going to make a positive change in the jujutsu society—and with you by his side, he could take on the impossible. even if that meant butting heads with the higher ups and starting out training first year sorcerers. he was going to make this experience fun and exciting for not only you and him, but for his future students as well.

you heard cheering from the gojo clan and your own clan. you saw touya and his new girlfriend, kana, hooting and hollering from their seats. you continued to shine brightly under the auditorium lights.

"before i end my little speech, there are some personal thank you's that i'd like to give. to megumi and tsumiki—you two are my perfect little angels and i will continue to strive to be a good role model for you both. to my fellow classmates—thank you for all the late night study sessions, the delicious meals in the dining hall, fun-filled sleepovers, and wild class trips. to my loving grandparents, genkei and kanao, and my brother, touya—thank you for believing in me and always pushing me to be the best i can be. to the gojo clan—thank you for always supporting me and for giving me someone like satoru." you smiled at the gojo clan's presence in the crowd and then turned back to face satoru. (read 'meet the gojos' here)

satoru gojo was beaming brightly, just like he always did. his blue eyes shined back at yours, awaiting your next line of thanks. your eyes watered as the love you felt for the white-haired sorcerer overflowed from your heart.

"lastly, thank you satoru—for believing in me and loving me unconditionally every single day since the first day we met on the sparring field."

you took one last deep breath and shouted, "congratulations jujutsu high school class of 2010! we made it!"

a final applaud erupted throughout the auditorium. you laughed in relief as you finished your speech and wiped the almost formed tears from your eyes. you watched as the crowd stood up in a standing ovation.

in a crowd full of people, your eyes could spot satoru gojo in a heartbeat.

later that night

after the graduation dinner, you and satoru sat outside in the courtyard of tokyo jujutsu high. the twinkle lights you ordered for the staff to use as decor danced against the night sky, illuminating the courtyard with a soft warm glow. and behind that warm glow, satoru's cerulean blue eyes glimmered. you could have sworn satoru had a blush on his face, almost as if he was embarrassed about something.

“can you believe we’re finally graduated?” you asked satoru in disbelief.

the last 3 years had flown by. you were officially graduated from tokyo jujutsu high. the next step this summer was to move out of the dorms and find a home to fit you, satoru, megumi, and tsumiki.

“not quite yet,” satoru said as he starting to unpin his buttons from his uniform. you gave him the 'what are you doing' look. he chuckled at your reaction.

satoru took off the second button from his uniform, taking your hand to place his button in your palm.

“now we’re officially graduated.”

in japan, there's a high school tradition for boys to give the second button of their uniform to the girl that they loved. this act has a special meaning that is equal to a heartfelt confession.

“isn’t it a no brainer that i should be receiving this button?” you giggled. you admired the button of his uniform in your palm, a sign of affection that basically said that you were his.

satoru leaned in towards your face, sneaking a kiss on your cheek. he wrapped his arms around you as you melted in his embrace.

“actually, you don't even have to answer, satoru. you’ve loved me for almost 3 years. it's a no brainer.”

“you mean i put up with a mean girlfriend for 3 years?” satoru laughed boisterously. he let go of you and booped your nose playfully. his signature cheshire grin spread across his face.

you grabbed his hand to hold his palm against your cheek, teasing him, "since i'm so mean, will you put up with another 3 years of no good morning kisses?"

the white haired sorcerer continued to grin, "i'll think about it."

you rolled your eyes at how dramatic satoru could be and mumbled under your breath, "you know how i feel about morning breath."

"yeah, yeah." satoru mumbled back at you, "gimme a congratulatory graduation kiss then."

you wrapped your arm around satoru's shoulders and planted a firm kiss on his lips. satoru pulled away from you and smiled, amused with how the night was going.

"sweetheart, i'd put up with another lifetime of no good morning kisses if you asked me to. as long as i get to wake up next to you every morning." (read 'sleeping with the enemy' here)

you scoffed at satoru's cheesy comment before kissing him again to shut him up. you were ready to venture into the next step of your life with satoru by your side—no good morning kisses and all.

EXTRA:

“we’re gonna have to find a place to live in after graduation.” you said with apprehensive tone. not only did you and satoru have to find an apartment for the two of you, the apartment had to fit megumi, tsumiki, your spirit birds and the demon dogs too.

“it will be fine,” satoru reassured you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

you bit your lip, lost in thought. you wanted to make sure that the apartment you chose would be a safe haven for megumi and tsumiki. it had to be a home filled with love. ever since you and satoru took them in, you made sure that they grew up with everything they needed. whatever they wanted, you and satoru provided with no hesitation.

“you already know that the two pipsqueaks will be happy wherever we end up.” satoru said softly, “they just want to be with us.”

"you mean tsumiki just wants to be with us." you laughed, "megumi does not want to be next to you."

"i'll win him over, just you wait." satoru said confidently.

you knew deep down that megumi actually really admired satoru, but he would never admit that to his sensei's face.

"since we're on the topic of a place to live, we just need to make sure that our room is on the opposite side of the apartment from the kids' room."

you glared at satoru, knowing exactly where this conversation was going. he held his hands up in the air, feigning innocence.

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[bunny-yan]

Yandere!Fan x Idol!GN!Reader

TW: mentions kidnapping, mentions stalking, violence, gaslighting, minors DNI

—

He’d been happy, having you here. 

A secret from the outside world. 

Others would look at him and judge his unkempt appearance,  his timid nature, his uncertain words. They’d sneer and whisper cruel, unpleasant things. Things he’d often go home and repeat to himself. 

Opening the door to the empty house, he wouldn’t hesitate to pad up the stairs, passing all the rooms heading straight to the one in the far left corner and turning the silent knob to enter into his sanctuary. 

It was like he’d spent the entire day struggling to pull oxygen into his lungs and the moment he entered this sacred space, his lungs could rest. 

Met with the the large poster cut out of your smiling face the moment he opened the door, he couldn’t stop his own smile as he greeted you warmly. 

Walking over, he’d kiss the piece of paper, feeling embarrassed but quickly getting over it due to the lack of judging eyes, he told you about his day. He never wanted you to worry, but you were the only one in this cold world that he could be honest with. It didn’t matter where he went since your eyes would follow him faithfully, looking out from every corner of the room, but he felt a deeper connection when he kneeled in front of the poster, relaying each and every mundane happenstance faithfully. 

He imagined that you would be kind. That you would get angry at others for being so despicable. So cruel. That you would stroke his head and offer him the peace, the sense of belonging that he’d always craved for. It didn’t matter if everyone else rejected him as long as he had you. Everything was alright in the world as long as you were by his side.

On days when others were especially awful, he’d take the pen out of the safe and rewind the audio he recorded on it. The day you had a meet and greet after one of your concerts, he didn’t care if he had to wait hours, he just knew he had to talk to you. And when he’d spilled everything, spewing intimate details of his life like a broken fountain, he was in awe of you. You were just as sweet, just as kind as he thought you’d be. Even saying some of the things he’d imagined and when you offered to give him a hug, the blush that spread across his face burned just as brightly as it did that day, squeezing his legs together as he begged not to make a fool of himself in front of you, though he didn’t care in the privacy of his home. 

Your sweet words were muffled, something he often cursed his past self for, but he could make out everything you said, having listened to it so often that the memory, every word, every pause, every breath you would take was ingrained into him. He knew others were jealous that day. When he wrapped his arms around you, sweaty palms afraid to touch your back as whispers of others calling him a “fucking loser” or a “gross fanboy” circled throughout the open space, but it didn’t matter. You were hugging him, touching him with the hands he could only dream about, making them a reality. You were the only thing that mattered. The only voice he truly cared to listen to and he couldn’t help the small shudder when you whispered, “It’ll be okay.” in his ear.

He hated the way he practically ripped away from you that day, sending a hurried thank you over his shoulder before rushing to the bathroom to take care of the throbbing bother between his legs. 

It was routine at this point. After he was spent, he cleaned himself up and carefully put the pen back in the safe where it belonged, a treasure hidden until it was needed again. 

And it would be needed again. 

You were the only thing that mattered. The only thing that made him feel that life was worth living.

But these days he was different. The words others spoke didn’t bother him as much. He went through the day with his chest tightening in excitement instead of fear, a slow anticipation that spread as the day carried on. 

Walking up his porch, there was a bounce in his step. He threw down whatever he was carrying the moment he walked into this house and ran up the stairs, breathless as he forced himself to slow and open the door carefully so he didn’t startle you. 

Wide eyes looked into his own and he smiled before saying, “Hi.” in a breathless voice. 

You were tied up on his bed, wrists forced together and pulled taut against the headboard. Rope wrapped around your thighs giving you little movement. 

He came over after fishing a key out of his pocket to lock the room to his door, tugging at the rope, allowing it to loosen and unravel completely before going to do the same for your wrists. You had stayed in one position for so long, it was hard to move. Fingers twitching, your body felt numb as you tried to will circulation through your arms and feet. 

Harper tried to leave you alone without restraints, but the moment he undid them, freeing you from the chair, you bolted to the door. 

You twisted the door handle, but before you could get it fully open a hand slammed against it, barely shoving it closed before another was wrapping around your waist dragging you down, trying to yank you away from the door, from your escape. Pleas and desperate cries flooded your ears, begging you to stop, to stay, not to do this. 

You didn’t want to listen, but your body betrayed you, stiff from the stationary position you were forced to sit in, it wouldn’t do what you told it to. It only took one wrong step to go crashing down with him on top of you.

Having you struggling underneath him, it felt surreal. You were real and you were trying to leave him. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to avoid hurting you as he dragged you back towards the chair. It was difficult, he muffled his voice when you clipped him in the chin or managed to shove your elbow into his ribs, but the simple thought of his life if you managed to get away, managed to leave him, it was unbearable enough to provide him with an extra surge of adrenaline to struggle through his pain and terrifying weakness. He apologized profusely, but it didn’t stop him from wrapping the rope around your wrists before tying the rope to the bed. 

He couldn’t understand why you stopped struggling, but his face caught on fire the minute you shifted and he threw himself off of the bed. Pressing a hand to his mouth, his emotions were a cacophonic mess between embarrassment that his body had betrayed him in such a desperate situation and hopelessness that the one person who offered him a reprieve from the biting loneliness had also tried to abandon him. 

Without hesitation. 

Harper was breathing hard, panic erupting when he saw you go for the door. It was the first thing he changed. Put locks on the outside just in case you ever got out of those restraints. Because he wasn’t taking them off unless he was here with you. He felt bad. He noticed how shaky your movement was, how uncertain, but he couldn’t live with that fear that you’d try again. 

“How are you? Do you need to go the bathroom? Are you hungry? I’m sorry, I would spend all of my time with you if I could, but they’d know if I stopped showing up.” 

You didn’t say anything, simply watching him as you pushed yourself further into the corner on his bed. Wary of him. 

He bit the inside of his cheek. He knew those eyes. He chewed. Those were the same eyes he watched others with. Chewed until he could taste blood in his mouth. He tried to force a smile, lingering near the edge of his bed. 

“I can whip something up if you’re hungry. Some pasta? That’s simple. Or I could order pizza. You can get any toppings, as many as you want… O-Or if you don’t want pizza I’m fine with ordering anything else. Do you want Chinese food? Thai? Vietnamese? Or if you’re not hungry right now I can get you something else. Something light? But if you don’t want anything at all that’s fine too. I brought you some water. Water is- it’s important that you hydrate... You’re not talking… Why aren’t you talking? Speak to me, please.”

“I want to go home.” you said, clearing you throat from hours upon hours of unuse. 

His face dropped, fighting to stop the nervous smile from dropping, his face twitched before melting to utter devastation. 

Of course you wanted to go home. 

No one would like being tied up for hours a day. He was sure it wasn’t comfortable. You were used to having the freedom of doing whatever you wanted to. Now you had to rely on him for  something as simple as using the bathroom. 

“I’m sorry.” he said, shifting on his feet as he edged closer. “It must be hard being tied up. I promise I’ll try to figure out something more comfortable. Do your wrists hurt?” 

He tried to reach out to grab your hand, but froze when you flinched away. A small smile came to his face. Of course you would be nervous about him touching you. It was stupid for him to even try. Harper didn’t want to blame you. You wouldn’t even be here if he hadn’t drugged you and dragged you back to this house before gagging you and tying you up to make sure you wouldn’t alert the neighbors before he could make it back to you. But if you hadn’t tried to run away, if you have just accepted what the two of you had everything would be fine. 

But, no. You ran. You tried to leave him. 

“I’ll try to be here more often. I’ll take days off to stay with you.”

It felt disgusting. 

“I can bring things back!”

Having to ask to be let go. 

“What is it that you miss? Your lamp? I can bring your clothes or perfume. Anything to make this feel more like home so…”

You tasted bile as the words came out of your mouth, but you didn’t see an alternative. 

Shaking your head, you held yourself. “I want to go home. Please?”

You had thoughts of hitting him over the head with the lamp. If you could catch him off guard you were sure you could overpower him and go for the door again, but his eyes were always watching you, noticing every movement you made. It was something that unsettled your skin, to feel his eyes drag across them to note every intake of breath, every shudder. 

He felt something ache in his chest, knowing that look.

Harper thought of the moments he’d spent in this room, dark and alone, staring at the pictures of you on his wall. It was his sanctuary, but it was empty. Devoid of life other than his own or the occasional critter that would sneak into his house to scavenge for food or to simple escape the elements or a large predator. It was vacant of any warmth or emotion. So much so that the last time he caught a spider crawling across his desk, he trapped it in a glass jar. Of course it was agitated, slamming against the seemingly invisible wall, unable to understand that it had been trapped, but it learned with time. He’d watch it, noticing that after a few days of exposing his presence, it no longer shrunk away. Its eyes almost appearing grateful when he’d offer it food. It made the loneliness bearable, though it was incomparable to your actual presence. 

There was something he carried throughout the day, a hope of sorts, an anticipation of happiness the moment he was able to return home. It didn’t take a genius to know that the change was you. 

It didn’t matter that the look of fear in your eyes made his heart feel as if it was breaking into thousands of tiny shards, continuously digging into his chest. He’d struggle to maintain his happy-go-lucky nature, digging his fingernails into the flesh of his hand as he reasoned that you still needed time to get used to this dynamic. That it only made sense when you’d cry. It was probably the first time you’d known relief from your demanding career. He was helping you. You needed him to whisk you away from that soul-sucking stage and from those disgusting people who paraded as fans when they didn’t really care about you. Not like he did. 

Hours he’d spend online, scouring every piece of media that your name had been mentioned in, defending your honor against trolls that felt they could degrade you, talk about the things they wanted to do with you if they ever got the chance. He couldn’t handle then all. Not when you continued perform. Continued to put yourself out there like a willing target for their unrighteous desires, no. He rescued you from that. And you rescued him from that mind-numbing emptiness he’d relied on for so long. 

He couldn’t do that again. 

“No.” he said, looking at you as he clutched the area of his shirt over his heart. “You can’t go.” He began scratching at his chest, feeling a pain that refused to leave the more he thought about that hollow loneliness. His voice was almost a whine as he let out a sharp wail. You flinched, watching him drop to his knees as he shoved his head to the ground and begged. 

“Please don’t go. Don’t say you want to leave. I can be better.” Head coming up, a small trail of blood trickled down his face, his eyes half-crazed as if he’d convinced himself of his own words. That you weren’t appreciative of his treatment rather than being ripped away from your everyday life. He said it so convincingly that it gave you an awful feeling.

“I can make you happy.”

He said, crawling too fast to the edge of the bed for your to resist the urge to jerk back, pressed firmly against the wall. 

Gripping the sheets in his hands, he said, “I’ll do whatever you want, just please. Please don’t leave me.” 

Harper began to cry. 

It was something that you were used to seeing by now. He cried when he was upset. He cried when he was happy. Harper cried when he was thanking you. Worshiping you for that day. For getting to see you in the morning when he opened his eyes. For the opportunity to cater to your every whim and need.  You were his star, and he your loyal devotee. 

You felt awful, but a part of you wished the two of you never met. You knew how deeply he valued that moment, but if it meant that you wouldn’t be here right now you’d have canceled that meet and greet in a heartbeat. It was awful. You were awful, but you couldn’t imagine he’d take an “abrupt” change in your nature well. That sickening violence he had no issue inflicting on himself kept your tongue docile as you tried to play the kind idol he so desperately wanted. 

“Harper, there are people that are worried about me. My family, my fans, my agency has to be looking for me.”

It was true. Your tour had been canceled since your disappearance and they had put out a missing persons report. 

Your secret outing had worked in his favor considering the police had yet to catch onto him. The day he spotted you walking around, relying on a flimsy mask to shield your identity, he knew it was too good to be true. 

Too good of an opportunity to pass up. 

Another sign that destiny was drawing the two of you together. You were just too blind to see it. Too focused on the secular expectations that society wanted you to believe. They wanted you to believe that he was just a stalker, but didn’t kidnap you. He rescued you with your best interests in mind. 

What did it matter what other people cared about? None of them would ever love and appreciate you the way he did. Your manager simply viewed you as a cash cow, using your hard work and effort for an easy payday. Your fans, a horde of self-obsessed assholes who would suck you dry the moment they got the chance. You were his life. His sole reason for being alive. His sole reason for being alive. 

“They aren’t.” he lied, holding his breath as he watched the shock and disbelief spread across your face. Eyes flitting back and forth between yours, he said, “A lot of people got angry about your canceled tour and someone started a rumor that you ran away to get back with your ex.”

Your heart sank. 

You didn’t want to believe him, but it was something you’d done before. You didn’t expect just how much being and idol would take out of you. Every aspect of your being was scrutinized and altered in order to appeal to your fans, to make you a more popular and attractive idol and the slow loss of your sense of self was driving you insane. Overwhelmed and severely in need of a break, you trusted your lover’s advice to take a step away, unaware of their intentions for the publicity stunt. 

Harper grit his teeth, hating to even mention your dark past, but it was necessary to make you believe that no one was looking for you. A part of you was sure to be suspicious, but he’d hammer in that point until you started to believe it yourself. 

“No one’s looking for you. I was the only one who cared enough to see that you were having a hard time.”

Was it bad that he wanted to look good in the eyes of his idol? That he wanted to see your appreciative gaze before you wrapped your arms around him, much like the first time you spoke. 

“No.” you said, breaking his fantasy. “That can’t be true. I worked hard on my upcoming performance. My manager would know that I wouldn’t just disappear.”

“They don’t care about you!” he yelled, losing control of his fear as he shot to his feet. 

“Harper, please. I know that there are people that are worried about me. Can you just imagine how my disappearance is making my family feel?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” he said, voice uncharacteristically cold as he walked to his desk. You watched him silently, breath hitching when you saw the red cloth he pulled out along with duct tape. 

“Harper,” you prefaced, not taking your eyes off of the items in his hand, but he didn’t give you a moment to talk him down.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” he repeated, walking to the bed before lunging at you when you tried to bolt for the door.

You begged him to stop, to let you go, to allow you to return home, but the only indication that he heard you was his stricken, tear-filled eyes before he shoved the cloth in your mouth, ripping a piece of duct tape away expertly before slapping it over your mouth. 

A hand closed around your wrist and you felt your heart sink in your gut at the thought that he was putting the restraints back on when you’d barely had 30 minutes to be free without them. You yanked your hand away from his grip, knowing you could overpower him if you used your full strength, but he caught your offguard when he shoved you back, grabbing your arm once again before yanking it up and above your head to restrain it with the same cloth cuff you’d been trapped in all day. It didn’t take long for your other hand to join the first and despite being restrained you couldn’t help the exploding desire to struggle. 

He backed off of the bed, going to sit in the chair at his desk as he stared at you with that same strange coldness.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m the only one that cares about you.”

You looked in his eyes and there was an unshakeable trust that you knew he wanted to see reflected back. 

“I’m the only one that cares about you.”

You closed your eyes shut, shaking your head, wishing that you’d been able to cover your ears.

“I’m the only one who cares about you.”

He would say it again and again, closing you in, until he knew you understood. Until you began to believe it yourself.  

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere male #gn reader #yandere!fan #idol!reader

[thelov3lybookworm]

I Didn't Ask For This (part one)

Summary: Marriage had always been something sacred to little Y/n, something dream like, where her husband would come and whisk her away to a fairyland. At least, that's what she had always thought.

All her dreams would be shattered.

But maybe she can salvage them?

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: yeah soo... I think I have some kind of obsession with this trope. And I have never ever seen any azriel x reader forced marriage fics, so I decided to write one myself. But I could be wrong and there are fics out there that I haven't seen, in which case, please let me know about them. (Also, because we do not know who azzie's father was and if he was a camp Lord, for the sake of this fic, lets pretend that he was, indeed, a camp lord.)

Tw: Forced marriage, none more that I can think of, so please let me know if I need to add anything.

•○🌑○•

Y/n poured the imaginary tea in the cups set on the low table in front of her, talking to Mister Fluffkins about the weather. He was her daughter's husband, or she pretended that he was. Her daughter, Alisa, was her favourite doll, who was going to be married today.

"I hope there was no troubles while on the way here?" She asked as she set down the teacup and turned towards her other toys.

Before Mister Fluffkins could answer though, Y/n's mother walked in, crouching in front of Y/n, smiling.

"What are you doing?"

"I was just asking Mister Fluffkins about his travels today. Do you want some tea?"

"No dear. I just wanted to tell you that a friend of father is coming here today with his son. I want you to try and become his friend, as he has none. Okay?"

"Okay mother." The little girl turned away and settled down opposite her to be son in law, sipping her imaginary tea. Excited that she'll be making a new friend today. Maybe he can play with her. He could be Alisa's father, and they would be one big and happy family.

As little Y/n was busy musing about her new friend, she lost track of time, and soon they had arrived. The door opened once again and her mother stepped inside, Y/n stood. A small boy, probably her age or older, stepped in behind her, his hands clasped together nervously. His eyes flitted around the room, his hair dishevelled and messy. He looked too thin to be healthy.

Y/n mother nudged him forward, and he hesitantly took a step forward. Then another and another.

"I'm Y/n. What is your name?" She asked when he was standing in front of her.

"Az– Azriel."

"Let's be friends." She said, before practically shoving him in the chair next to Mister Fluffkins and pouring him some tea. "It's tea. Drink, you'll like it."

He blinked. "There's nothing there."

"Obviously. We're playing, I can't use real tea."

Her mother had laughed, walking away. It took some time for Azriel to get accustomed to playing with her, but when he did, he enjoyed it, cherishing this rare moment of happiness. And though he was quite odd, saying he had never played anything in his life, Y/n didn't mind.

But then both of their father's stepped in, as if in a hurry. Azriel's father yelled at him to be quick and clasp her hand, and Y/n decided she didn't like this man. He was too loud.

Y/n's father was looking sadly at her when the bad man told him to make haste. They made Y/n and Azriel hold hands, guiding them through it.

"Listen girl, I want you to say I agree to everything he says, understand?" Y/n nodded, afraid of his father. "Now," he began saying to Azriel, "repeat after me. I will marry you, when I see you after we come of age. Say it." Azriel looked scared, but repeated nonetheless. And she mumbled a I agree after him before a pain shot down her left ring finger and she wrenched it from Azriel's grasp, tears pooling in her eyes. At that exact moment, the door slammed open and her mother stumbled in, gasping and clutching at her head.

"No..." She stared at her husband angrily with tears in her eyes.

Y/n didn't understand, but it wasn't as if she could question the adults. Because, even though her father didn't hate her, he didn't like her very much either, hitting her whenever she got too loud. But he wasn't bad, atleast Y/n didn't think so.

Maybe when her older siblings came home from school, she would ask them about it.

•○🌑○•

As she stared at the rain droplets pelting the window of her room, Y/n couldn't stop thinking about that day. It had been almost five centuries since then.

Asking her siblings about it had yielded no information, after all, they were kids too.

But now she knew.

Azriel's father had fame and control over the camp they had once lived in. Her father wanted to be in the good graces of the Lord and also the recently vacated position of the second most powerful person, the camp Lord's second in command. Azriel's father was giving Y/n's father what he wanted in exchange for her marriage to his bastard son.

Who had run away.

But she couldn't fault him for that, knowing what his father was like. She knew Azriel fairly well, considering she met him a few more times after the day they had been promised to each other. The last time they met, he had finally told Y/n that his father kept him in a dungeon. Then he left. They could have been called friends once, but now, Y/n didn't even know if he was alive or rotting somewhere. But, even after all these centuries, Y/n still cares for that tiny, skinny, timid boy with disheveled hair, who would get extremely happy if provided with one small act of kindness.

But she also couldn't stop the tiny kernel of resentment that bloomed in her, because, after he had run away, his father had decided that he no longer wanted to share the power when he wasn't getting anything out of it, kicking their family out of the camp. Her father had gone nearly crazy.

Her sister, Velda, had been in a similar situation as Y/n, having been forced to marry one of the more prized warriors. But she didn't have to make a promise for it, as the warrior wanted to marry her. Y/n had been forced to promise herself to Azriel because his father somehow knew that he couldn't marry Azriel forcefully.

She would have been married too, if not for the mark on the second last finger of her left hand, encircling it like a ring. Every day she woke up with a pot of dead and hope in her stomach. Dread, for if Azriel came to take her, she would be forced to marry him, but if he didn't, she'd have to ensure her father's taunts, as if it was somehow her fault Azriel escaped. Those taunts, which had increased since her mother's death, haunted her at night.

Hope, for if he came, maybe she'll be able to have the life she always dreamed of, and that Azriel would still be the boy she had befriended. And if he didn't, she won't have to leave.

Her father had waited all these years in hopes that Azriel would come to get his bride. But he was tired of waiting, it seemed. And so, today, she and her father they would be visiting Hewn City, in his hopes that the High Lord could find her husband.

•○🌑○•

The Hewn City was hauntingly beautiful. That's all Y/n could describe it as.

They were waiting on the side, her father conversing with someone named Keir while she stared at everything she could get her sights on in awe.

The doors to the court room suddenly opened, everyone falling silent as the High Lord and the Lady, with the little heir in her arms, walked in, with their Inner Circle, as they were called. Y/n kept her eyes downcast, hiding behind her father. Her neck prickles, as if someone was staring at her, but it wasn't something she was unfamiliar with.

Soon, everyone dropped to their knees, rising when the High Lord commanded. After a few people conversed with him, her father stepped forward, her following, still staring at the ground. He bowed, and she curtsied.

But then, when a shiver wound down her spine, she lifted her eyes.

She had to take a step back, her jaw dropping.

Because, staring at her were wide, hazel eyes.

She stared and stared, hoping she was dreaming and hoping that she wasn't. Because those eyes, she would never forget.

Azriel.

Her father bowed, turning away, and she shook her head at Azriel, slightly. He dipped his chin and looked away.

But when Y/n tried to step away, a sharp pain shot through her chest and left hand, a scream tearing from her throat. She fell to her knees, gasping and clutching her hand to her chest. One glance at the dais told her that Azriel had fallen to his knees as well, and everyone was silent, looking between the two of them.

She looked at her father, the confusion in his eyes clearing and a wicked smile blooming on his face.

"Finally."

•○🌑○•

Part 2

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #shadowsinger x reader #Acotar fanfic #rhysand #mating bond #a court of thorns and roses #azriel fluff #acotar fandom #acotar series #Shadowsinger #spymaster #fluff #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #sarah j maas #acotar headcanon #acotar smut #Acotar writing #acotar fluff #acotar x reader #reader insert #forced marriage #tw forced marriage

[hyewka]

hii !! this is my first question thing .. can u maybe do a perv!yeonjun?

warnings: perv bestfriend!yeonjun, jealousy, corruption kink, stealing clothes, sniffing underwear/yeonjun has a thing for scent in general, obsessive behavior, switch!yeonjun, not proofread

"you save yourself?" he breathes, blinking rapidly like he was trying to piece this sacred information together.

"yeah, i mean, i just sort of ...grew up with the expectation." you say shrugging. it wasn't a big deal, you've always just went through it, not having the desire to be sexually active during your teenage years anyway.

yeonjun stares at you mind boggled, lips slightly parted before he just lets out a light scoff, brows slowly knitting together.

you shift awkwardly at his reaction- you're not sure what you expected but it wasn't whatever ...that was. yeonjun was the most open minded person you've met and know. exact reason why it's a breeze for you to confide in him about anything and everything.

you've never told him about your stupid virginity pact assuming he'd never live the information down-- a sophomore at college was a virgin? it didn't help that yeonjun's reputation included a lot of...well, the opposite of a virgin.

but the more you got to know him, the more you let the worry go-- he never seemed the type. until now, the regret slowly creeping up of ever mentioning it.

yeonjun suddenly takes a swig of his drink, still dazed.

"i mean i get it, it's not very feminist of me is it?" you try lightening up the mood, laughing at your own joke.

yeonjun's not on the same thought train. whatsoever. your earlier statement about finally 'trying it out' sticking out sorely in his head now knowing you were a virgin. "and...and you're going to give it up to fucking wooyoung?" he spits out with a mocking sneer.

okay, now you're confused. you turn your body on the couch to yeonjun, who had his forearms laid on his knees, posture bent with a strong grip on his red cup eyes focused on the crowd dancing to the blasting music. "what's wrong with wooyoung? i mean he's my boyfriend. and you guys are friends...did he do something wrong?"

yeonjun's venomous smile withers, practically evaporates as he throws an arm around your shoulder- if you hadn't spent hours doing your hair, he would've normally ruffled it, but his hands avoid it, his trademark teasing smirk that you could probably draw from memory showing up, "nothing, nothing's wrong. i was just messing with you. i got you, didn't i?"

you blink dumbfounded, but before you could question the sudden transition he had already switched topics and you reluctantly let it go.

yeonjun who goes home that night, far from his original plan to get trashed, opening his closet in desperate search of the cardigan you forgot on his couch a few days ago. when he spots it, he gulps, grabbing it and looking down at the baby blue in his hand for a second.

when he originally recognized it as yours, thoughts of calling you to pick it up weren't lasting. see, yeonjun has recently been hit by a sudden infatuation with you the past year, even after you started going out seriously with wooyoung. he wasn't too concerned, afterall, it was natural-- you were attractive, of course in the way of your friendship he'd eventually feel something more. it happened with more than half of his female friends, it always proved to be fleeting.

but the longer he caught his eyes trailing down your ass, subconsciously licking his lips, before snapping out of it and stuffing his perverted hands in his pockets to stop himself from losing control, the harder he felt he had to have you. it was so bad that his occasional flings mortifyingly started sounding a lot more like you...and looked a carbon copy.

so what if had a sickenly desire of touching, ruining every inch of your body? what could he do with your silly cardigan anyway?

yeonjun who finds it almost bothersome as he approaches his bed, grip tight on the fabric, wrinkling it in his hand. the fabric that's responsible to the haven that was your scent, stenched with you, everything you. you've always worn it out, to the point he thought it was your only jacket (to which he tried suggesting to gift you a new one), but you told him it was because the fabric was breathable, comfortable compared to most things in your closet.

he guessed it was your favorite.

so what would you think of him now? staining your favorite piece of clothing, hand shaking as he immediately shoves his nose in the line of the cardigan, his control breaking as he takes a deep exhale in, flickering his eyes shut, his lungs filled with you. the power of smell, it felt like you were right next to him when he had his eyes closed, taking another whiff before frantically trying to smell every inch of the fabric. his head light with ecstasy, his hand drive themselves over his bulge, feeling his hard on through his loose sweats, before his pace picks up, palming his dick, his breathing heavy and unrhythmic -- the mere scent of you making him go mad.

perv!yeonjun who gets dangerously fast to his climax, his hand faltering as he takes another whiff, groans easily slipping out of his mouth with the way they shamefully hung open-- so addicted he thinks he might go insane, his drool trickling down under his chin, some wiped on your cardigan because he was a dog with a bone. a crazed animal he realizes when he finally shudders, soiling his boxers, watching a large wet path spreading rapidly with growth on the area of his crotch.

who knew he could fucking get off of a cardigan? that's when the panic settled in as his hand shake in realization of what the fuck he just did.

he ruined his pants...because of your cardigan.

perv!yeonjun who feels like such a freak when he bumps into you at campus, yet continues to use your cardigan to his free will, hips canting against his bed with his head buried in the fabric, "f-fuck, y/n, you do this to me..." his babbles are so shameful to the way he carries himself, strong, masculine--anything but weak to a scent of a mere girl.

but it was you. the girl he felt he could spend eternity laying his head on, eternity hearing just a laugh, a snappy retort, a stupid dumb joke-- anything, he could do anything for you, with you, anything and he would find no use with anyone else.

he tries to get rid of his concerningly growing infatuation, deciding that he was acting out because of his lack of pussy-- going to every frat party on thursday, taking a pretty girl to a secluded enough space, have a pretty good fuck, feeling pretty fucking good on his way home-- until he's on his toilet again, left hand jerking off his swollen cock, his tip leaking precum, gawking down at your new post, biting his lips so painful at the shot of your ass in skinny jeans. "fuck!" he yells, strings of his cum spurting all over his screen, so frustrated with the hold you had on him, especially when you spared him zero romantic attention.

you had your heart reserved for someone else, and it was never not shoved in his face. it was the main drive for him-- when he spots wooyoungs hand sneakily going dangerously under your waist, his lips too close to your ears, body pressed against your ass a little too much for his comfort-- the occasional eye rolls were impossible to control in the first place, but these days, rage got to the best of him.

as far as he knew, based on your rambles lately, you haven't slept with wooyoung yet. you were still a virgin. and the scent of you was wearing off the cardigan, not able to get himself off properly.

he couldn't return it, the fabric was ruined with stains of his cum not washed off even after the third circle in the washing machine-- he impulsively opted to buy an identical, praying to god you wouldn't notice the difference.

perv!yeonjun who has a habit of lingering in an embrace with you, nose buried in your hair, discreetly trying to inhale your smell, before you awkwardly try to pull out of his suffocating grasp. "yeonjun, you're acting like you haven't seen me in years." you say, finally breaking the embrace with yeonjun's hands defeatedly falling to his side, staring at you with such intensity you don't notice.

its so so full of pity, his eyes, hidden with all the perverted things he would do to you- hes' thought of doing to you. his mind was rotten, if you let him, he'd take you right then and now. slamming his hips into his best friend's tight pussy, breaking your hymen, mixture of his seed and proof of your virginity taken-- a sight to be imprinted in his memory foreer.

hes dreamt of it even more vividly, being the one to take your virginity, in his fantasies- the one you've reserved for him. it's why you haven't fucked wooyoung yet, right? you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

yeonjun who has built a pile, a haven of all the guilty stolen treasures. clumsy with the elastic bands of his boxers, quick as he flings out his dick from the restriction of his pants, his hand slow on his shaft, dragging up and down with the stickiness of his precum, burying his nose into h like the fabric would evaporate into thin air at any time, like this was his last shot at getting something remotely reminiscent of you, deep groans of your name that sometimes get out of his control, turning to loud moans, the family next door unappreciative.

perv!yeonjun who's addicted to taking your things, stuffing it in either his pockets or bag, ruining it back at home the same day with his filthy thick load, your suspicions rising only making it more thrilling with each trashed item.

yeonjun who loses his last bits of restraints when you're jokingly pushed directly on his lap, floors of the living room being occupied by most of your friends invited for the group watch, the couches all full, chairs all used, of course they thought it'd be funny if you sat on yeonjun. you didn't mind it all too much, finding no issue with sitting on your best friend-- you've done it a few times before, skinship was normal between the both of you. but you still wanted to make sure he was comfortable.

you lean your head back to whisper in his ear, noticing the way his pronounced adam apple bopped up and down, which was odd-- yeonjun being nervous? but you ignore it, "i can stand if you're not comfortable."

his eyes tear from the premier that has the entire living room roaring with excitement, "n-no, it's okay, you're alright. i'm alright."

"...you sure? you don't look like you're alright."

"i'm seriously good y/n, let's focus on the show, we've been waiting for a whole year."

hesitantly you nod, it's true, the cliff hanger last season was a bite in the ass, so you ignore your gut, tuning in with the rest of your friends.

yeonjun who can't help the soft whimpers escaping his lips the more you jump at a scene then fall back down, his boner growing harder and harder, trying to go to the bathroom, but you're too focused on the show he's stuck under you as you adjust your position every few minutes, your ass with no knowledge, getting him off. his breathing gets heavier, nose flaring, so thankful the lights were off and it was night, too crowded for anybody to catch onto the way he was bucking his hip up into you, making the friction enough to get his head dizzy, arms snaking around your waist, tightening the closer he gets, the way you're so clueless spurring him on-- his face dipping into the crook of your neck, sweat dripping down his forehead, taking a deep breath before muffles his moan with a bite down his lip, whimpers as he finally releases.

he throws his head back on the couch, trying to calmly catch his breath, a grin spreading across his face letting his mind drift to how heavenly itd feel being inside you if grinding against you felt this good.

you turn your head back, voice hoarse and quiet, "...yeonjun?"

"yeah?"

your eyes trail down, and it takes the perv a few seconds to realize before his forehead crease flatten.

oh shit.

yeonjun just stained your leggings.

----

#txt smut #yeonjun smut #yeonjun hard thoughts #yeonjun hard hours #txt hard thoughts #the politeness of this ask is so cute 😂 #anyways i was about to add somno but im too much of a pussy #maybe ill save it for beomgyu later lol #🌷. rana thoughts

[barcaatthemoon]

te amo || ona batlle x reader ||

ona gets something off of her chest.

you had not quite grown accustomed to what it meant for ona to be living with you again. there had been quite a bit of time from when you were in manchester together to your transfer to barcelona. once your girlfriend and your best friend both transferred to other teams, you decided that you didn't want to stay in manchester all alone.

barcelona didn't offer you a starting position in their lineup, but you were fine to work your way there. even just through the practices, you felt like you were playing the best football of your life. even some of your harder to impress national team coaches had commented on you being in top form at practice. everything was going great, except for the fact that you had a tendency to forget that wherever you were, ona tended to also be.

cooking had always felt like a sacred practice to you. there was a routine that you liked to follow for every meal you made yourself. it didn't have to be all strict or serious, however. if you were having a good time while you were cooking, you swore that the food tasted better.

"i think i like this little life," you sang to yourself as you moved around the kitchen. you continued on with the little song that had been stuck in your head for the past month. ona liked to tease you about all the time you spent on tiktok, whether that be making videos or watching them. however, you knew that you were doing the people a great service by showing them glimpses into your life at barcelona.

you had gotten so caught up in yourself and your song that you failed to notice ona coming into the kitchen. she quietly sat down at the island your back was facing. she watched as you moved around from one little station to the next. it was too much for her brain to wrap around, especially after the grueling practice the two of you had been through.

"shit! you scared me." you were clutching your chest as you tried to catch your break. ona's face fell as your song came to a stop. you were about to ask if she felt okay when ona spoke up instead.

"no, don't stop. i like the sound of your voice," ona told you. she gave you her best puppy dog eyes and pout, which worked almost instantly. you pressed play on your phone and continued to sing along to whatever songs came up that you knew the words to. ona stared at you dreamily, unable to take her eyes off of you.

"is everything okay?" you asked her. it wasn't like ona to sit there so quietly for so long. the woman was like a puppy, always full of energy and ready to race around whatever room she was in.

"te amo," ona said quietly. for a moment, you were pretty sure that you had misheard her. you had been around enough spanish speaking people to know that it held a higher meaning than just saying that she loved you. the words were impactful, and made to be even more so by the way that ona looked at you.

you had noticed it before, how she'd stare at you sometimes like you personally put the sun in the sky. it was weird to think that she loved you like that, but you were grateful for it. things hadn't always been so easy for the two of you, but now it was effortless to slot into each other's lives.

"can i say it back?" you asked her. ona perked up at it immediately. she moved from behind the island to where you were standing by the other counter. ona reached up to cup your cheeks and gently tugged your face down towards hers. she pressed a soft kiss to your lips. it managed to hold all of the love and passion she felt for you without becoming too raunchy or messy. "te amo."

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #ona batlle imagine #ona batlle x reader

[cranberryjuice-posts]

- It’s just you and me -

Pairings - Clarisse La rue x Fem! Daughter of Hecate! Reader

MAJOR SPOILER WARNINGS FOR PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS

Palestine aid link



The battle of Manhattan. The battle that would decided the fate of the Olympians and the future of the world.

You swung your spear, cutting into a hellhound making the animal cry out in pain. Normally the sound of a dog whimpering would of hurt you to the core seeing how your mothers sacred animal was dogs, however after watching your familiar who was a Doberman and a gift from your mother get ripped apart by a monster you couldn’t care less about.. well anything.

Something that also plagued your mind was the daughter of ares. You saw silenas sacrifice. you saw clarisse kill the drakon. You saw her get the blessing of ares. And you saw clarisse practically loose herself.

Angry Tears started to fall down your face once again. After years of liking clarisse she had finally started to look your way, both of you sneaking around just to hangout, spending time away from others and once finding yourself in her cabin cuddled up to the girl. Then she had to go and ruin it all— saying you two would never be something. She decided to tell you that the night before you left for the battle.

You didn’t know where she was currently, probably somewhere fighting some monster in her fathers name. Wiping your eyes you knew you had to focus on what was happening around you rather than your failed situationship. Your hurt ankle throbbing and starting to swell adding to your list of worries.

A tall shadow started to form around you. Cursing you turned to face the growing figure. “Well would you look at that” a young cyclops grinned. Most likely somehwere between being a teenager and adulthood making him an intimidating height but not towering. “A daughter of Hecate, how I’ve waited to kill a child of that traitor bitch”

“My Mother isnt a traitor” You Bit back turning your tired stance to a more defensive one, preparing for a fight. The cyclops let out a deep laugh. “Your mother betrayed Kronos in the first battle against the Olympians siding with his trash like children, she’s selfish only looking out for herself. Who’s to say she won’t betray you”

His condensing laugh made the hairs on your arms stand up. The cyclops swung his club at you not giving you a chance to defend yourself — throwing you against a wall.

Groaning you sat up only to roll out the way to avoid getting crushed. Frantically searching around you tried to find your spear only to see it snapped in half across the way.

Standing up you limped over to a fallen demigod grabbing his sword, taking the weapon you tried to defend yourself.

The next thing you knew the monster had back handed you. Landing on the ground you flinched waiting for the final hit from the monster… only for it to never come.

“Get up” Clarisse yelled. You quickly looked up seeing the girl, after a moment she noticed your ankle. Scoffing clarisse picked you up bridal style.

She set you down into her chariot that was now scuffed up with dirt, weapon marks and blood. Bringing it up to the infirmary station she quickly walked inside.

“Stay here” she ordered before running off, going to grab some Apollo kid she snatched him by his shirt throwing him in your general direction. “Clarisse you can’t just drag me away from different kids” will complained rubbing his neck before taking notice of you. “Help her, I’ll make it up to you just make sure she’s fine first” clarisse crossed her arms. Everything was happening so quickly that it didn’t complelty process that clarisse.. the Clarisse was worried about you.

Will gently grabbed your ankle making you cry out in pain. It was broken. You watched as the young kid started to run around grabbing different items to make a splint.

A weight covered your hand. Looking up you saw clarisse rubbing soft circles over your now dirtied palm. You knew she had alot on her shoulders. Taking her hand into yours, you gently squeezed her hand to show her you stood with her.

Always.

Will soon came back. Him placing your ankle in a splint hurt like hell but the ambrosia he soon provided help you calm down.

Your breathing eased out and the pain soon subsided. You hand felt empty as clarisse pulled away.

She grabbed a sword that was leaning on the wall and tightened her armor as if she was about to go back out. Debating for a moment you hoped off from the counter you sat on limping towards the girl.

You ignored Will who was yelling at you. Clarisse heard the commotion happening behind her, she turned around and before she could yelled at you grabbed her by the top part of her breast plate pulling her down into a kiss.

A moment later clarisse wrapped an arm around you lifting you up some to get your weight off the hurt foot. Kissing you lovingly but also desperately as if it would be the last time she saw you.

Pulling back you softly hit the girl on the breast plate. “Don’t get killed, I swear to god if you fucking die I wi—“ you were cut off by another kiss. You felt clarisse smiling some against your lips, mentally you wanted to beat her ass but you knew better.

Once clarisse pulled back she placed another soft quick kiss onto your lips “have some faith in me ok.. I’m coming back, it’s just you and me” she rested her forehead against yours before walking back and leaving the hotel.

———

#lesbian #wlw #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #clarisse larue #clarisse my beloved #clarisse x female reader #butch clarisse #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you #percy jackson show #pjo show #pjo fandom

[ninyard]

Honestly honestly the most romantic moment of the entire series is when Neil talks about how he'd never gotten to travel for fun before and the Foxes are planning to take him to the mountains, and Kevin starts to protest that they can't go on vacation but stops because Andrew is holding a knife on him 😭🥺😩 like I don't know that's just just a sweet little moment to me, Andrew threatening Kevin if he takes this little chance for happiness from Neil

Uhhhh literally Andrew “I-don’t-care” Minyard is the most romantic of ALL the foxes. My line of work revolves around intimacy and from all my training and studying let me tell you that man is a master at his craft.

Andrew’s touch is beautiful and sacred; this thing he does not take easily, or give out kindly whatsoever. Yet with Neil it’s as if he can’t stop himself. We see it in how gently he tapes the garbage bags around Neil’s injuries, wordlessly, without being asked. THAT’S intimacy. How he holds his neck to inspect his eyes when he removes his contacts, how he hands Neil cigarettes without a request, how he doesn’t say a word while touching Kevin with the point of a blade because Neil deserves a fucking break. Sure, by technicalities, the shower scene from TKM is intimate by definition, but really it’s in the kiss he ghosts across Neil’s hip, in how he pats dry his broken skin afterwards. How can you look at him wordlessly dropping keys into Neil’s palms, and think, yeah there’s no way Andrew could be romantic. Is he soft, is he gentle, as a person? No. But his minuscule actions are, his unmentioned gestures are. You just have to look and find them.

TKM just has some of the most subtly beautiful examples of a different flavour of love and intimacy that is so unusual and heartwarming it’s insane. That shower scene drives me crazy when I think about how caring Andrew is in it. He came in with the tape and bags on his own volition, knowing Neil needed a shower and couldn’t do it unattended. How he didn’t take away Neil’s autonomy by assuming he couldn’t undress himself, instead waiting until he paused and couldn’t go any further before he started to help. How he drapes the blanket over Neil’s shoulders, again giving Neil a chance to struggle before wrapping it around him. They practically don’t speak to each other really in that chapter at all apart from a bit of flirting in the shower. Because they don’t need to, because Andrew knows how to love, how to be caring, how to wrap up the boy he almost lost in bubble wrap because if he loses him again, it won’t be pretty. He washes Neil’s hair! He covers his wounds! He treats him gently when that is possibly the last word that could ever be used to describe Andrew. I feel like that scene was in part of course him just looking after Neil who can use approximately two square inches of his entire body, but in another part proving how serious he is about Neil. Everything changes between the two of them then, suddenly their actions more relaxed than hungry, not yet a given but instead now just a want.

I don’t know. I can’t help but see so much intimacy and romance in subtleties and things you’d barely even notice, regardless of the people/the characters and their circumstances. I wouldn’t use the word sweet to describe Andrew at all, but the things he does for Neil? The way that he loves Neil? The absolutely fucking sweetest.

#I could go on for hours #Andrew is so soft while being the further thing possible from soft #sleepy ramble but I love them so much #aftg #Andrew minyard #Neil josten #andreil #ask #tfc

[renmorris]

after reading sacred and terrible air…I do think that Harrier is an Innocence, BUT for Revachol only.

like an Innocence he’s the reflection and distillation of an age's ideologies, he’s a manifestation of a collective and that isn’t necessarily a good thing. it’s horrifying. just because the world has a voice doesn’t mean you should listen to it. if the masses are reactionary and they want war and annihilation. that’s bad.

we know from thoughts like REGULAR LAW OFFICIAL and accounts of his behavior pre amnesia that Harry naturally bounces rapidly between ideologies. idiot doom spiral's tequila sunset account is about a fascist apocalypse cop Harry.

regardless of how you’re choosing to play him, this is how Harry is. he’s an extremist. what he attaches his extremism to is what changes.

we see how Revachol feeds into whatever he believes at the moment, how they rile each other up. how she will echo whatever he believes in the moment when he talks to Joyce. I’m not going to copy/paste them all, but this is one of my favorite examples:

HALF LIGHT - Maybe a good bloodletting is just what Martinaise needs?

SHIVERS - Houses drenched in red, blood gushing down Rue Saint-Cispare... the whole place mopped with a giant red rag! Fresh bullet holes for all the old buildings...

most importantly he’s a guy. he’s a very ill guy. he’s very disabled.

so in practical terms, this all means he’s immensely over stimulated and stricken with divine madness but also just normal boring madness. nothing he has will save him from poverty or his disabilities. as Trant says he’s absorbing everything he hears and sees

he talks to the dead. he made the swallow when he raided the church, he tore a hole in time with an atrocity, and accelerated the growth of the Pale. he knows how many days are left until the end of the world. he can look at Korty and see how he may kill him in the future, he’s linked to the city and she speaks to him.

and he still desperately needs access to healthcare he isn’t getting. he’s a saint and is weighed down entirely by mundane horrors and realities

#disco elysium #harrier du bois #disco elysium meta #püha ja õudne lõhn #sacred and terrible air #and that’s without getting into his very personal similarities with the next Innocence #disco elysium blogging #pjõl blogging

[skelebellie]

affections towards reader

nb!reader x meryl, vash, wolfwood, and knives

NSFW headcannons involved, minors do not interact.

(nsfw is in red, if you’d like to skip it)

this is my first time writing smut lol. if you’ve got any constructive criticism please let me know.

———————————

meryl

meryl loves physical touch. she will constantly hold your hand in public, and if your not walking then she will sit close enough to have your legs touching. if your comfortable enough then she will make the excuse of “needing to save money” in order to share a bed with you. it intentions are never sexual, just in the loving nature that she feels most safe wrapped in your arms.

she loves to offer her thighs for those short naps. she knows she isn’t the most well endowed but you knock out moments within laying down.

meryl also likes to show her love though acts of service. she might take over some of your work to lessen the burden on you. maybe she might clean your clothes after a rough day through a sandstorm, making sure to part out all the sand prior.

she’s the opposite in bed. she’s an absolute pillow princess, her back arched as her thighs pressed against your head as you eat her out for hours. your just trying to show your appreciation for her, you know?

being in bed with her is something sacred to her. its a moment of absolute intimacy and she wants to spend every part of it clawing and grasping your body, each shock of pleasure causes her to pine at you. you never leave the bed without a scatter of marks and hickies.

vash

this man is the biggest trinket collector in the entire world, and you are not safe from him. if he sees something that reminds you of him, its his. you have an endless collection of keychains gathering on your bag. “but it was so cute!! just like you!!!” its so hard to resist when hes giving you puppy dog eyes.

if he notices a hole in your gear or clothes, you’ll come back from a day of odd jobs to find something new on your bed, neatly folded and a small note laid on top of it. “i saw you needed new gear. dont pay me back :) “. if its something you have an emotional attachment too, he will wait for the perfect moment to snatch it from you. you will receive it back with an added patch, the color being practically identical. even if it means late nights and expensive prices, he will do anything to get it back to its original shape.

no one is safe from his nuzzling. if your really nervous or scared, he will rub his head against your head (or any available body part). when he pulls back his hair is messy and tussled in every direction. you think its a plant thing.

in bed vash is a man who dominates the “act of service” category. his whole goal while having sex is making you feel good, your pleasure is his and every moan you makes brings him closer and closer to orgasm. if hes having a rough day all he wants is to eat you out/suck you off for hours on end. if he had to spend the rest of life with his head between your thighs than he would willingly do so.

of course, mans is a switch. some days he craves your control, riding him as you hold his wrists together, preventing him from touching you. in times like this he doesn’t have to worry about the outside world, only how tight you are and your moans. on the flip side, he wants to pound you so hard you forget about whatever troubles may come. he wants to be the only thing you can focus on, you teary eyes unable to pull apart from his face as his hands roam your body, unable to separate himself from you for just a moment.

since hes so clingy, hes an enjoyer of cock warming. he feels amazing connected to you, and he loves to monitor you face to see how much more the both of you can take.

wolfwood

words of affirmation got this man redder than the two suns above gun smoke. and in turn, he loves to support you verbally. “you did great out there”, “we couldn’t have done it without you”, “your my everything”. on top of that, if you feel insecure or anxious about yourself be ready to hear wolfwood list off the 1000 reasons why he loves every part of you. don’t feel like your inconveniencing him, he would willingly tell the entire planet if you let him.

wolfwood loves physical touch, especially your body. his touch is much more intimate, but not necessarily sexual. he will spend car rides with you in his lap or his arm wrapped around your waist, him pulling you into his side. if you let him wander he will start kneading your love handles or the fat of your stomach. you cant go anywhere without this man giving a surprise ass grab. your his personal stress ball.

if you’ve got a muscular or skinny body, hes tracing patterns into your skin or letting his nails glide against you, sometimes causing you to giggle.

he also loves to hear you rant about things than interest you. he would spend hours listening to you rant about some new invention or fixation. it warms his heart to see you so fascinated with something. that glimmer of excitement in your eyes gets his heart pumping.

speaking of physical touch, wolfwood is a man dedicated to the act, especially in bed. he will keep edging himself over and over again because he just doesn’t want it to end. he doesn’t mind you cumming, in fact the more fucked out you look, eyes rolled in pleasure, the more he just wants to make the moment last. he will go a tantalizingly slow pace until your vocal enough to beg him for more.

wolfwood likes a bush. i said what i said.

fave position is you on your side, it gives him enough support to grab at you whenever he wants. when he cums hes got a death grip on you. your the only thinking grounding him from the amount of pleasure you give him.

knives (million knives/nai)

whether or not this emotionally constipated man realizes it, hes got a love language.

he craves quality time, whether that comes from a need to have you near him 24/7 in order to protect you, or that his mind races every time you leave, is none of his concern. he just feels more at peace with you by his side, or at most, with you in his line of sight.

he discovered he really likes bathing with you, its a moment of non-sexual intimacy he looks forward too. he take pride in cleaning every part of you to make sure you are his “perfect partner”, using only the highest quality in JuLai on your skin. the first time it happened he just kind of walked in on you, eyes affixed to your body as you missed a spot. “your not doing it right”, he muttered before stripping and getting in with you. he can always tell where to massage your body if you’ve got a particularly sore muscle.

he always wants you sitting in his meetings with conrad. even when conrad was initially against it. he wants you to see the paradise hes working for, how far hes willing to go for you to live in a perfect world molded just for you and his brotheren.

sex though? oh hes a physical man through and through. as much as he tries to be gentle with you and your human body, he cant help but fold you over in order to get a view of your pleasure ridden face. his thumb resting in your mouth so the only thing your full of is him.

its only natural for you to be under him, as much as he tries to involve you as an equal at work, he knows the perfect place for you is under him and worshipping the love he gives you. and the best time for that is sex.

hes got an obsession with cumming in you. having a part of him inside you makes you so much closer to him, much better than all the other lowly humans. he will keep cumming inside of you until you simply can’t hold anymore. it gets him hard knowing how much your filled of him, both physically and emotionally.

#goreguttdrabbles #trigun nai #million knives trigun #trigun fic #trigun stampede #trigun 98 #trigun meryl #trigun x reader #trigun knives #trigun vash #trigun #trigun maximum #trigun manga #vash trigun #vash x y/n #vash x reader #wolfwood x y/n #wolfwood x reader #meryl x reader #knives x reader #million knives #nicholas d. wolfwood #trigun smut #vash x reader smut

[tired-but-willing]

Tattoos

Pairing: Tonowari & Ronal / Reader

Word Count: 1,297

Warnings: Minor Way of Water spoilers, minor pain.

Summary: Every Metkayina receives a tattoo after an important life event, and tattoos hold a deep meaning. After defeating a beast to protect your people, the time has come for you to receive another.

Tattooing was a sacred practice to your people. A tattoo on one's chest represented safety and security. Tattoos on one's arms were the marks of a warrior; signifying strength. You were due for the latter. You sat in your home, head bent forward as cool hands swept across your back. Ronal was nothing if not thorough. You shuddered while her fingertips took their time tracing their way across your skin, the pads of them making a journey over your left shoulder blade and onto your arm itself.

"It should be here." Her hand grasped the top of your bicep. It wasn't far from your first tattoo; a circlet of dark waves around your muscle that you had received as a young hunter. "The mark of a warrior." Her hand lingered longer than it needed to, filling your heart with warmth. Though you weren't fragile in the slightest, she still handled you gently. It was endearing.

"I am not a warrior," you stated bluntly. "I hunt."

She squeezed your shoulder once firmly and let go, rising off of her knees to cross the floor of your shared home. You didn't turn; listening to her movements rather than watching them. You heard her shuffle around and knew she was gathering the necessary items to complete your ritual.

"You are a warrior." Her footsteps were becoming closer once again. The netting beneath the two of you dipped as she joined you once more. She knelt at your side and took your arm in her hands again. You turned your head to meet her gaze.

Passionate.

Ronal was passionate. It was one of the things you loved about her; and you would never deny that fact. Your love for her was something to be proud of.

"If that is what you say," you relented. Truthfully, trying to refute anything she said was a waste of time. She had a comeback ready for everything, iron clad points always in tow. Even now she smiled wryly. She leaned forward, rewarding your agreement with a gentle touch of her forehead on yours.

"It is." You felt her breath against your face when she spoke. You yearned for her to move closer. To break the gap between you. But at the same time, you reveled in the tenderness behavior a simple forehead touch. She pulled back, her head turned towards the entrance of your home. Your eyes followed hers. In the entryway was a form you recognized well. The completion of your heart. Tonowari's head was tilted every so slightly to the side with question.

"Is it ready?" He asked.

"Nearly." Ronal's fingers moved up and down on your arm, digging ever so slightly into one spot. It was her duty to find the perfect spot to mark your skin with ink. The place that Eywa would approve of; and the place that you would approve of. "Have you come to watch?"

"I have come to help." Amusement punctuated his words. He stride forward and knelt down in front of you, joining both you and Ronal where you sat. He reached out and took your other hand, cradling it in his palm. "Are you feeling well?"

You scoffed, playful. "Ma Tonowari, I have been tattooed before," you said. "I am not a baby."

"She is feeling fine." You yelped when Ronal delivered a swift pinch to your arm, gathering a small bit of skin between her thumb and forefinger. "No disrespect, ____. Be kind."

She reprimanded you like you were a child. You huffed. Your banter was light-hearted, as always. You would never say anything that would truly upset your mates, just as Ronal would never do anything that truly harmed you. Tonowari watched the both of you exchange words and a fondness overtook his expression. You looked up just in time to spot it. The way his eyes crinkled around the edges when he smiled. The warmth they held. You twisted your lips into an exaggerated pout.

"I am sorry," you said to him. "Forgive me."

"Enough of you," he said, setting his second hand atop yours, keeping it held gently between his. "It is time to begin. If you feel pain-"

"Do not be soft," Ronal interjected. "There will be pain." There was a pause in her words where her own softness leaked through. "It should not be extreme."

"It will not be." You flashed her a reassuring smile, displaying your fangs with the expression. "I am a warrior. Remember?"

"I should have known you would use that." She grabbed your arm a final time, her fingers forming a circlet on the limb. You dutifully fell silent and turned away. While you weren't a coward, you still didn't enjoy the feeling of watching the tattooing practice. Especially when the practice was going on you. Soon after you turned, pinpricks of pain scattered across your flesh. You grimaced.

"Breathe." Tonowari's hands clasped yours firmly while Ronal worked. You dutifully took a deep breath, air rattling through your lungs. The pain wasn't awful. You were slowly getting used to it. Ronal was quick and efficient. You could hear her murmuring to your left, small prayers to Eywa and recollections of your accomplishments. Despite the pain that came alongside the ritual, you couldn't help but revel in the way she held your arm. A tight but gentle grip. A firm, yet somehow lenient hold. Your thoughts could be full of her forever and somehow it still wouldn't be long enough.

And then of course, there was Tonorwari. Strong was easily the word that first came to mind when your thoughts were of him; though he was far more than that. He was kind. He was respectful. He murmured as well, but his words were not for Eywa. They were for you.

"Brave," he was saying. "You are brave."

"It is a tattoo," you replied.

He shook his head and slid one of his hands up your arm. Ronal held your left. He held your right.

"You earned it through bravery," he said. "And you are brave receiving it."

The mere sincerity of his words made your heart beat faster. It was as though the organ was trying to beat hard enough to make itself jump and escape out your throat. Your mates gentle smile turned knowing. Knowing, and teasing.

"Breathe."

You gnashed your teeth together in a mock-snarl, letting him see your fangs. He bared his teeth back once, indulging your playful antics. Then his gaze slid to Ronal's work. You suddenly became aware of the fact that the pain had stopped. He had distracted you, you realized. He drew your attention from the tattooing process, and now it was done.

"What is it?" You asked. You could see a swirling symbol of darkened blue and black on your skin, but it wouldn't be recognizable as any shape until it fully took to you.

Ronal sat back on her heels, admiring what she had done. Admiring you. Again, your heart kicked furiously. You imagined if it could speak that it would likely warn you it was about to explode.

"Water," she responded. Her finger traced a faint shape around the mark, mercifully not touching the raw skin itself. "Surrounding the beast."

"Sentimental."

She huffed and lifted herself up partially, pressing her lips to your hairline. "You are welcome," she said.

You closed your eyes contentedly. This was where you belonged; with your people, in your home on the sea.

With your mates in the place you shared, which was sacred to only the three of you. That was enough to keep you happy for as long as you lived. The memory of your joy would live on long after your death, forever kept alive in Eywa for anyone who wished to listen.

"Thank you," you responded.

#ronal #tonowari #avatar the way of water x reader #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #tonowari x ronal #ronal x reader #tonowari x reader

[broomsick]

Nine unique ways to reconnect with nature

Why nine? Because it's the sacred number of my path. In my experience, for people like us who need a certain amount of spiritual practice in their lives, feeling close to nature does wonders for the mood. And I know this is easier said than done, which is why I wanted to share a few personal tips, all related to some extent to self care. After all, I feel like we underestimate the tight link between mental health and this feeling of “closeness” with the earth.

Find the sacred in plants, or animals you've always been drawn to. How can you explain this particular connection you feel? Your intuition often reveals truth.

Collect what you see, and don't be afraid to hoard trinkets like treasure. Cool rock, cool stick, cute acorn, fragrant flower, fallen branch... Whatever tickles your fancy.

Go out of your way to enjoy what every season has to offer. Garden in the summer, or chill at the park, carve a pumpkin during the autumn, make hot cocoa during the winter... Find ways to be cozy in every weather!

Look out the window. Do it as often as you can. Look at the sky, observe how windy it is, how bright the sun is, how thick the clouds are!

Give names to the natural elements around you. Simply calling a tree, plant or animal by the name of its species does the trick: names are powerful, and they show that you acknowledge the spirit that resides in everything that lives.

Learn the stories, as many as you can. Anything folklore related to your area! Folklore hides a great deal of generational wisdom and beliefs, and it reveals such a powerful connection between the people and the land.

Cook with fresh ingredients. No need to grow your own everything, or raise your own chickens, or adopt other such backyard farming activities. Simply by making meals out of fresh, local products as often as you can, you might feel as one with the land thanks to which you are fed.

Stop feeling silly when indulging in aesthetics. Make that Pinterest board filled with pictures of flowers! Listen to that song that makes you feel like a woodland fairy! Put on that long, flowy skirt, or that cardigan with knit mushrooms on it! Through these seemingly trivial little joys, we may experience a connection with ourselves that's crucial to feeling close to our mother earth.

Use your hands: craft artsy projects if you can, dig your fingers in the earth, and brush the bark of trees! You body is your best tool when it comes to feeling grounded. It's always the part of yourself that's closest to earth. To use it is to honor it, and to care for it is to care for yourself.

If you reside in the Northern hemisphere, have a great spring season! Hail the King of the Elves and the spirits of the land 💛

#hail Freyr #heathenry #norse paganism #paganism #spirituality #polytheism #norse gods #deity work #witchcraft #deities #green witchcraft #herbalism #spring #springtime #pagan

[apomaro-mellow]

I wanted to write church fucking again but it turned more into church love-making

Steve was long past caring if anyone heard them. The only thing on his mind was taking Eddie deeper and deeper. This place was built with Eddie's money anyway. And it wasn't really a building to practice any religion known to man. As Eddie had put it, the first and only thing being worshipped here was them and their love.

And to Steve there was honestly nothing more sacred.

-------------------

"Do we really need to do the separation thing?", Eddie asked. He didn't whine. He definitely wasn't whining as Steve packed his bag.

"We're only doing like 5 traditional things for our wedding and this is one of them", Steve said, zipping up a duffel bag.

He gave Eddie a kiss on the lips, one that was too short considering he wouldn't even be seeing him for another twenty-four hours, let alone kiss him again. He chased after Steve's lips only to have his beloved pull back.

"You're going to make me late. Robin's already honked once", Steve said.

"Mmm, she can come up and rip you from my arms if she wants you so bad", Eddie said, pulling Steve into his hold and falling back against the bed.

"You know she will. And she'll have the spray bottle and everything", Steve warned, but doing nothing to stop Eddie from groping his behind.

Steve was able to break away before Robin got pushed to that point and leave to stay at her place until the wedding. Eddie let out a sigh that was equal parts dreamy and forlorn. He did his best to keep his mind off of not being around Steve and his friends had the ultimate bachelor party planned. But he couldn't help but think at times how much nicer it would be with his Stevie there.

"Technically we're both bachelors, so we could've had the same party", Eddie reasoned.

The others wouldn't hear it and kept him sufficiently busy until they all passed out around 3 am. At 5 am, Eddie woke up walked over to the church. He took out his key and unlocked the door. Inside was completely empty. But Eddie had saw to the renovations himself to make sure it was up to par.

He sat in the first pew and let out a sigh. In just a few hours, he and Steve would be standing in front of this altar, vowing themselves to each other. Eddie would have done it anywhere, the courthouse, a friend's backyard, their sacred bedroom. But Steve's upbringing wouldn't allow him anything less than a church. Thankfully, Eddie had enough 'fuck-you' money to find an abandoned one and have it built back up just for the two of them. And perhaps any other queer that wanted an unofficial ceremony.

Eddie himself rarely looked to Jesus for answers and was just about to ask what he was even doing here when the doors opened again. And who should walk through it but the answers to any question he ever had.

"Eddie? What are you doing here?"

"Awaiting salvation. And here you are", Eddie smiled. "What are you doing here?"

"Searching for...well, for you, I guess", Steve said as he walked down the aisle and took a seat in the same pew as Eddie. But at a distance for polite friends and not two men who were getting married in a few hours and already knew each others bodies.

"Why are you all the way over there?", Eddie smirked. "You think we need a chaperone or something."

"I came to get a moment of peace and quiet before the storm today is going to be", Steve said. "And you are anything but peaceful and quiet."

"You just said you were searching for me?"

"I meant that sometimes searching for one thing can bring you another." Steve smiled as he shook his head a little, a memory coming back to him. "My mom always said 'when you ask God for patience, he doesn't give you patience. He gives you a situation where you need to be patient'."

"You sure your mom wasn't praying to a genie? Or a monkey's paw?"

"I'm just saying that I came to a church for peace and instead, I see my fiance."

Eddie scooted closer to Steve. "Sounds to me like His Mighty Heavenliness is throwing down a challenge. Can you be quiet around me Steve?"

Steve knew he couldn't. And Eddie knew he couldn't. Nor would his fiance's big ego even allow Steve to even attempt to be quiet. Eddie wouldn't stop until this place was filled with his echoes. But he held steady.

"There's not even a comfortable place to do it", he said.

To which, Eddie jumped up and went over to the altar, normally it would have a cloth draped over it, but when Eddie pressed down, there was a bit of give, like it was cushioned. Steve didn't even have the presence of mind to ask why because Eddie was already palming himself through his pants, beckoning Steve over with a finger.

Let it be known that marriage didn't stop Steve from being a slut. It was just reserved for his groom-to-be.

So he loved on Eddie and let Eddie love on him, in an embrace that felt more rapturous than any praise he'd given in a church. This was what ecstasy was. Steve knew deep in his soul that he was born for this, to share this with Eddie.

Hours later, dressed to the nines and promising themselves to each other in front of an audience, Steve couldn't stop thinking about his body draped over the altar. Eddie had said more than once that he worshipped Steve's body but the same was true for him. When Eddie slipped the ring onto his finger and kissed him, Steve felt like he was being smiled on by Heaven.

A man like this loving and promising eternity, how could be anything less than a blessing?

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #believe it or not #this started out as just smut like the last time #but then it turned sweet

[onestopfanficshop]

all the time in the world

pairing: tsu'tey x fem!avatar reader

word count: 4k (oops)

warnings: kissing, unprotected p in v sex (are there condom-equivalents on pandora?), fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), bit of overstimulation, description of reader’s hair length, miscommunication trope if you squint

summary: after three months on pandora with jake, neytiri, and tsu’tey, you finally complete your iknimaya. during your night of celebration, you gather up the courage to tell tsu’tey how you feel.

translations || tìyawn: love

oel ngati kameie: i see you

nga yawne lu oer: you are beloved to me

gif not mine!

"Tsu'tey!" you complain, dragging out the last vowels of his name. You had no idea where this man was taking you. He had dragged you away from your own party, for crying out loud. The clan was celebrating a successful hunt, as well as you for completing your Iknimaya shortly after Jake did. A night filled with music and laughter, and lots and lots of dancing. Another victory chant had just started, and Tsu'tey saw it as the perfect opportunity to steal you away for a moment. You just had no idea why. In fact, you're so caught up in what could possibly be the reason why that you trip over a root, nearly face planting on the forest floor. Not even three months of living practically full-time on Pandora could get rid of your inherent clumsiness.

Tsu'tey whipped his head back, ears standing up in alarm then flattening in annoyance as he saw you nearly lose your balance. You craned your neck up to look at the tree that the offending root belonged to, and patted its trunk apologetically.

Tsu'tey hissed quietly, walking to where you stood. "You are always getting yourself into trouble, hm? Try to stay close to me," he scolded, suddenly grabbing your hand and pulling you along with him. You’re shocked by the gesture, nearly forgetting to protest because your mind is occupied with the sensation of Tsu'tey's large hand enveloping yours.

"This is…totally unnecessary," you huff, although you make no move to let go of his hand. "I mean, where are you even taking me–"

You cut yourself off when you set sight on the majestic tree glowing vibrantly in front of you. You were positive that you had never been to this part of the forest–there's no way you would've overlooked this. The tree stood tall and inviting, with dozens of atokirina’ seeds floating in between its thin, droopy branches. It looked like a bioluminescent version of the willow trees that you studied back on Earth. You let go of his hand to push further through the leaves, cautiously reaching out to touch a drooping branch and delighting in how it glowed in response.

“This is the Tree of Voices,” he explained. “We can hear the voices of our ancestors here. If you connect to it, you can listen to them.”

You turned back to look at him, eyes slightly wide in surprise. “This must be very sacred,” you said, looking up in wonder at the glowing branches.

“Yes, it is,” he replied, taking note of the way you looked around in awe at everything.

“Thank you for trusting me enough to let me see it. It’s beautiful.” You gave him a soft smile.

“You know, there was a time where I did not trust you at all, " he said in an amused tone.

“I'm aware,” you replied, chuckling.

“Besides, you are Omaticaya now,” he continued. “It is only fair that you get to see it. And you will need to make yourself a bow, from the wood of the Hometree.” He pauses, parting some leaves out of the way so he can move a little closer to you. “And you may choose a mate.”

“A mate?” you ask, ears flicking back in curiosity.

“Yes… we have many strong warriors for you to choose from. I know Ozä is looking for a mate. He is particularly skilled,” he says pensively.

“Ozä?” you repeat, furrowing your brows. “I mean, he is a great warrior. But he’s not the one I want.”

“Oh? So you have already chosen?” Tsu’tey questions. His expression remains entirely neutral, but you catch the way his ears flick up and his tail swishes behind him.

“Um… yes, I suppose I have,” you admit. Shit. You’ve already sort of blown your cover. Might as well tell him how you felt—it was now or never.

“He’s a strong warrior as well. The strongest in the whole clan, actually. And he taught me everything that I know, about the way of the people. He taught me… how to see. How to give, not to take. I owe it all to him,” you say timidly.

“The person you are describing… it sounds very much like me,” Tsu’tey replied cautiously.

"I know," you said sheepishly, letting out a nervous giggle. His gaze was so intense; it was heavy and unrelenting and focused solely on you. You couldn't bring yourself to maintain eye contact, so you looked shyly at the bioluminescent moss at your feet.

"I know that we had our differences at first, and we argued a lot. But I grew… I grew to care for you," you admitted quietly, toying with a floating atokirina’ seed. "And I hope I'm not wrong in assuming that… well, maybe…maybe you grew to care for me, too," you said hesitantly. Your voice went up at the end of the sentence like you were asking a question, and you mentally kicked yourself for sounding so insecure. What if he didn’t feel the same way? You’re positive you would evaporate on the spot if he rejected you.

But a shadow casted over the ground you were staring down at. You looked up to see Tsu’tey standing right in front of you. You couldn’t make out the expression that was in his eyes at the moment.

“No,” he said.

“No?” you repeated, trying to keep your voice steady.

Fuck. You should’ve known better. After all, Tsu’tey was the best warrior in the clan, and surely there were plenty of other eligible women lining up to be with him. Neytiri was promised to him before she mated with Jake, and she was the tsahìk’s daughter, for crying out loud. Tsu’tey had practically hated you from the moment you set foot on Pandora, but you two had finally gotten to a place where you could tolerate each other. You might even dare to call yourself friends. But now you had gone and ruined it by confessing your unreciprocated feelings to him like a lovesick teenager. Your face dropped, and your heart dropped even further.

“Wait,” Tsu’tey said quickly, registering the expression on your face. “I meant to say no, as in, you were not wrong to assume that. To assume that I had grown to care for you.”

“Wha- really?” you said in disbelief, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Yes. I know you may not think so, but you taught me as well. It is true I hated the Sky People. But that was before I knew you. You taught me that it is not the body that matters; it is the spirit. It would be the honor of a lifetime to protect you until I take my last breath," he said. He slowly raised a hand to cup one side of your face, as if he was afraid you’d run away at his touch. You didn’t.

“If you will have me,” he continued quietly.

"Yes," you replied automatically, raising a hand to hold the one that was on your face.

"Yes?" Tsu'tey said, unable to hide the small smile that came to his face.

"Yes," you whispered again, letting out a breathless little laugh. You leaned in to rest your forehead on his. His pupils were dilated, and in the violet light emanating from the Tree of Voices, they almost looked animated. God, he was so close. If you just leaned forward a bit, you could–

It was almost as if Tsu'tey could read your mind, because his lips met yours before you could even finish your thought. It was hungry and greedy, his hands finding purchase on either side of your hips. Just the feeling of his fingertips on your skin made your stomach flutter, and when he dug his fingers in a little harder, you let out a sound that was somewhere between a whine and a moan. He moved to press his body against yours as his hands moved up to tangle in your hair. He tugged at it, trying to move impossibly closer to you, accidentally loosening it from the braided hairstyle that Neytiri had painstakingly put it into earlier. Your hair cascaded down your shoulders as Tsu'tey pulled away, hands moving to cup both sides of your face. His breathing had quickened, and he was looking at you in a way that made your legs want to turn into jelly.

"Is this…alright?" Tsu'tey asked breathlessly, thumbs caressing your cheekbones.

"Yes," you whisper. Your hands come up to hold both of his wrists. "It's more than alright. It's amazing."

Tsu’tey smiled at your statement—a full, genuine smile that had his razor-sharp canines on display, stretching across the expanse of his entire face. He untangled his arms from yours and sat down on the soft moss, tugging on your wrist to signal for you to do the same. He reached around his back and grabbed the braid protecting his kuru, and you took it as a sign to do the same. Tsu’tey moved his kuru closer and closer to yours, and you held your breath in anticipation, looking at him with eyes full of nothing but trust and curiosity. The tendrils swayed until they connected, and then…

Oh.

The amount of sensations that you felt all at once nearly overwhelmed you, causing you to shudder. Much to your surprise and delight, you could feel everything that Tsu’tey is feeling. You felt the breeze blowing at his ankles, and the dull ache of his fingers digging into his palm as his breathing got heavier. You felt like you had a sudden jolt of energy, and the only thing you wanted to do was spend it on Tsu’tey.

“Tsu’tey,” you gasped, your fingers tugging at his shoulders to pull him closer to you. “I need…”

“I know,” he said in a choked whisper.

His strong arms wrapped around the entirety of your waist, pulling you up so that you were taller than him, standing up on your knees. He took advantage of his lower position to plant kisses at the junction between your jaw and your neck, causing you to let out a quiet moan. Your own hands were not idle, roaming down the expanse of his defined chest, all the way down to his impossibly toned abdomen. When you snaked your arms around to drag your nails down his back, he shivered a little.

“Yawne,” he groaned. In the haze that Tsu'tey had your brain in, the translation managed to come to mind: Beloved. Your heart skipped a beat.

He pulled at the necklace connected to the intricately beaded top that Neytiri had gifted to you after you completed your Iknimaya. The beads were stunning; woven in the shape of a spiraling flower, they had a metallic look to them, beautifully capturing and reflecting the light from the Tree of Voices.

“If I had known that you felt the way I did… I would have courted you properly. I regret not having done so,” Tsu’tey said, absentmindedly tugging at your top but not quite taking it off.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, looking down at him and moving your hand to hold both sides of his face. “We have each other now. That’s all that matters.”

His ears flicked up at this, and you found it so adorable that you couldn’t help but smile. He looked down at where his finger was hooked on your top, then back up at you, as if asking for permission to take it off. When you eagerly nodded your head yes, he wasted no time, exposing your bare chest to the forest breeze. You suddenly felt shy, wanting to move to cover yourself. You weren’t sure what the difference would be between your Avatar body and that of a regular Na’vi woman. You hoped that your boobs weren’t too big or too small or too weird-looking. But all of that doubt washed away when Tsu’tey buried his face in your chest, planting wet kisses all over and paying special attention to your nipples. You couldn’t help the lewd moan that escaped from your lips, spine arching as you pushed yourself closer to him. Emboldened by your response, he continued his path down your torso, noting how your breathing hitched with every time his lips met your hot skin.

“You are divine,” Tsu’tey breathed against your skin, looking up at you with lustful eyes.

“Says you,” you replied smiling, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

He finally reached your tweng where he paused, looking up at you hesitantly.

“We do not have to—“ he started.

“No,” you interrupted swiftly, cutting him off. “I want to. Please, I—I want you,” you breathe, a bit whiner than you intended to sound.

Now it was Tsu’tey that couldn’t help smiling. You reclined back on your forearms on the moss as he took off his tweng first, then helped you with yours. After he took off his battle band and his neck piece, you were both laid bare before each other. Your right hand pressed to his chest, and you could feel how quickly his heart was beating. He cradled your face in his hand with a sort of restrained reverence, as if he was afraid to touch you further.

Sensing his hesitance, you grabbed his hand in what you hoped wasn’t a bold move, and dragged it down further and further until it was right at the cusp of your wet folds. Tsu’tey seemed to get the message then. His eyes stayed glued to yours, slipping a testing finger inside you. You let out a sharp little exhale, your back coming off the forest floor in response to his touch. He took this as encouragement, moving his thumb to circle around your clit and slipping another finger inside of you. That got you. One of your hands shot up to grab one of Tsu’tey’s impossibly toned biceps as your eyes snapped shut, brows furrowing together.

“Tsu’tey, I need—I want…,” you gasped, bucking your hips to try and add more friction to his movements.

“What is it, tìyawn? Tell me, and I will give it to you,” he said huskily. He was half a world away, eyes heavy as he watched his fingers move in and out of you.

“More,” you managed to get out.

In a surprise move, he took his fingers out of you, arms hooking up to grab your hips and tug you down. You let out a shocked gasp as Tsu’tey lowered himself near your aching cunt. His eyes flicked up to yours hungrily–only for a split second–before he buried his face in between your legs. Moans tumbled from your lips as his tongue worked his magic on you, swirling and sucking at your clit until you were seeing stars. You had to thread your fingers through his braids to ground yourself; otherwise, you were afraid you’d float up to heaven and never come back.

“Tsu’tey, please don’t stop, don’t you dare stop,” you mumbled, barely coherent. You were speaking gibberish now, a mix between English, some Na’vi, and moaning, but mostly, you just repeated Tsu’tey’s name over and over.

He paused his actions only for a second to look up at you, his mouth and chin shiny with your slick. The sight had you biting back a smile.

“You are very demanding, you know that?” he said, grinning and pressing a chaste kiss to the burning skin of your thigh.

You huffed out a laugh, tugging lightly at his braids. “Shut up and keep going,” you retorted breathlessly. Tsu’tey’s ears flick up at this, and his eyes glinted mischievously as he looked you up and down.

“As you wish,” he said lowly. He resumed his assault on your clit, hands moving up to hold both of your breasts and play with your nipples. Whimpering, you closed your fingers over his hands. You came undone seconds after, and if this were any other moment where you were the slightest bit concerned about your dignity, you would have thought it was an embarrassingly short amount of time. But right now, all you could focus on was squeezing your hands around Tsu'tey's as you reached the peak of your climax. Tsu’tey watched your contorted features, the thin layer of sweat on your forehead, and your parted lips, and decided right then and there that you had never looked more beautiful. You were panting, trying to get your breathing down to a normal rate when you finally caught his eye. They had a sort of amused look in them, and with you still giddy from your orgasm, you let out a giggle.

“What?” Tsu’tey asked, half-grinning as he gingerly tucked some hair behind your ear that had gotten in your face.

“Nothing, I just—that felt really good. You make me feel good.”

“I do?” he asked, quirking his lips at you.

“Mhm,” you replied. Your eyes drifted down to the space where his cock was, already hard and throbbing. Without thinking, you grabbed it, and his reaction was instant. He gasped, shuddering as he looked down at where your hand was pumping him, and then back up to your face.

“I need to—can we…?” Tsu’tey stuttered, swallowing hard as his eyes fluttered shut. You understood him well enough, though, and you lined him up so that his tip was at your entrance. You moved your hands to hold his face, looking between both of his eyes.

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “Go ahead.”

Slowly, without taking his gaze off of you for a second, Tsu’tey pushed into you with the utmost care. You kissed all along his jaw and his throat as he continued on until he bottomed out, rewarding your ears with a low, throaty groan when he did. He began to move at an agonizingly slow pace, restraint evident as he tried to give you time to get accustomed to his size. Each drag of his thick cock had you biting your tongue from whining at the overstimulation. But even though you were still hyper-sensitive from your orgasm, you desperately wanted him to fuck you with full force, for him to come the same way he made you come. You wanted to make him feel as good as he made you feel.

“Tsu’tey, I want you to go faster,” you pleaded, staring straight into his golden eyes. “Can you do that for me?”

He slowed down, dick twitching inside of you. “Are you sure, yawne?”

“I have never been more sure of anything in my entire life,” you whispered. That was all the reassurance he needed. With a few warning thrusts, he began to pound into you. The force of it had you breathless, and the only thing grounding you was his hands, which were holding you down firmly on either side of your lower abdomen.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whined, your fingers taking hold on his biceps once more. “Please don’t stop. I need you.”

Tsu’tey could only respond by whispering curses in Na'vi that you vaguely recognized from your training with Neytiri. You could sense his restraint dissipating, thrusts becoming sloppy and arrhythmic as he felt your walls gripping him impossibly tight. Your head turned over to the side, where you caught sight of where the two of you were still joined by your neural queues. Carefully, you slid your hand under your conjoined braids so that it rested on top of your palm. Tsu’tey took one of his hands and closed it over yours, and you squeezed his hand gently. That seemed to be enough to drive him over the edge. He let go of your hand and pulled you up to a sitting position so that your chest was flush against his, and you raised your arms up to wrap around his neck, holding him in a tight embrace. A few more thrusts and then he groaned, suddenly going still, and a soft moan escaped from your lips as you realized that he was coming inside of you. Your fingers wrapped around the nape of his neck, stroking the skin there as he got in a few more lazy pumps, desperately trying to ride out his high the same way that you did before pulling out. He slumped against you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as you absentmindedly raked your fingers up and down his back. You could feel his warm breath coming out in little huffs against the skin near your neck, and you could swear you had never felt so content in your life.

“Ma Tsu’tey,” you said softly, feeling him come down from his climax. He looked at you, eyes full with equal parts lust and admiration, which turned to concern upon seeing your watery eyes.

"What is it, tìyawn? Did I hurt you?" he asked worriedly. His hand automatically came up to hold your face, thumbing away at the tears threatening to spill.

"No, no– I just…" you start, letting out a shaky laugh. "I love you, Tsu'tey. More than I can even properly say with words. Oel ngati kameie," you whispered.

"Oel ngati kameie, tìyawn," he whispered back, rubbing soothing shapes on your cheekbone. He paused, eyes dropping down for a moment before looking back up into your own. "Nga yawne lu oer," he said, voice cracking with emotion. Your eyebrows knitted together and raised up, breathless at the vulnerability that Tsu'tey was showing to you right now. Here was a man who went from never letting you see him sweat to confessing his love to you. So you kissed him. You had to. You needed to. And he kissed you back. If you kissed him, he would kiss you back–it was a concept that was so foreign, yet completely familiar, and you reveled in it. It wasn't like the first kiss you shared; this one was sweet and pressing. You weren't in an adrenaline rush; this was the bliss that came after the tides of rapture had breached the shore. It was the type of kiss that said: we have all the time in the world. You pulled away softly, taking time to immortalize Tsu'tey in your mind like this. Happy. At peace. In love.

"Hello," he said quietly with a loopy grin, as if meeting you again for the first time.

"Hi," you whispered back, giggling.

"What next, hm?" he asked, fingers tracing your back soothingly.

"I just want you to hold me, Tsu'tey."

And so he did. He held you, and made out with you some more–he couldn't help himself. You're not entirely sure when you had gotten your clothes back on (you were too high up in your post-orgasm bliss; Tsu'tey would have to tell you later that he's the one who dressed you back up). Time moved slowly, but you loved it that way.

You two had all the time in the world.

You had woken up sometime before dawn, and the bioluminescence from the Tree of Voices had nearly faded by now. You shifted around in your sleep at one point to be on top of Tsu'tey, curled up against his chest. He had one arm wrapped firmly across your waist, while his other hand was resting on top of his knife. Even in his sleep, he was a warrior. You let out a soft snort at the realization before you could stop yourself, rousing Tsu'tey from his slumber. His eyes opened to find yours, going slightly wide before relaxing again, as if he was afraid that last night was just a dream that he made up in his head. But it wasn't. You were real, awake, next to him. And you were smiling at him.

"Sorry for waking you up," you whisper apologetically, craning your neck to look up at him. He groaned quietly in response, merely throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the sunlight looming from the horizon. You had to fight back another laugh. Not a morning person. Got it.

"Are you truly sorry? Or did you just want my attention?" he asks playfully, voice delightfully raspy and low from sleep.

"Oh, I don't know," you say, innocently tracing shapes in his chiseled abdomen. "Now that I think about it, maybe I did want your attention."

He laughed a genuine laugh, the kind that you could hear vibrating in his chest and could feel in his shaking shoulders. "Whatever my mate wants, she gets," he replies with a smile, kissing the top of your head.

My mate. My mate.

Yeah, you could get used to that.

ty for reading!

#tsu’tey x reader #tsu’tey x you #tsu’tey smut #tsu'tey x y/n #tsu’tey imagine #tsu'tey te rongloa ateyitan #avatar tsu'tey #tsu’tey

[inmyfxith]

SFW Alphabet - Neteyam

A/N -> This template isn't mine, I don't remember where I found it so if it's yours don't hesitate to tell me so I can credit you.

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

Neteyam admires his partner's intelligence and strategic thinking, as well as their unwavering loyalty and commitment to their loved ones.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Neteyam's favorite part of his partner's body is their strong and agile hands, which are capable of both delicate and precise movements as well as fierce protection.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

Neteyam loves to cuddle with his partner in a way that allows them to feel fully supported and comforted, often holding them close and rubbing their back in a soothing manner.

Neteyam and you are sitting together on a grassy hill overlooking Pandora's beautiful landscape. As the sun sets, you snuggle up close, with Neteyam wrapping his arms around you and rubbing your back in a soothing and affectionate manner.

"Your touch is always so calming," you say, nuzzling against his chest.

Neteyam smiles and kisses the top of your head. "I just want to take care of you," he says. "You mean everything to me."

The two of you continue to cuddle and relax together, enjoying the peace and serenity of Pandora's natural world. It's moments like these that make Neteyam feel grateful and content, knowing that he has found his perfect match in you.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

Neteyam's ideal date with his partner would involve a day of adventure and exploration, such as visiting a new area of Pandora or trying out a new activity together.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

Around his partner, Neteyam is very expressive with his emotions and is not afraid to show his love and affection through both words and physical gestures.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

Neteyam is open to the idea of starting a family with his partner in the future, and sees himself as a dedicated and supportive partner who will always put his loved ones first.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

Neteyam enjoys giving gifts to his partner that are both meaningful and practical, often choosing items that will enhance their daily lives or help them achieve their goals. It could be a beautifully crafted piece of jewelry made from natural materials found on Pandora, such as a necklace made of carved wood or a bracelet made of vines. A set of tools or weapons for hunting or self-defense, such as a bow and arrows or a spear. A plant or seedling from a sacred or medicinal plant on Pandora, as a symbol of life and growth. He could even organize a special ceremony or ritual that celebrates an important milestone or event in their relationship, such as a bonding ceremony or a rite of passage.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

Neteyam likes to hold hands with his partner whenever they are out in public or during moments of intimacy, as it helps him feel connected to them and reaffirm their bond.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

If his partner were to get hurt, Neteyam would be extremely protective and caring, doing everything in his power to help them recover and feel better.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

Neteyam enjoys making his partner laugh and will often playfully tease or joke around with them in a way that is lighthearted and affectionate.

Neteyam and you are out for a walk through the forest, enjoying the sights and sounds of Pandora's natural world. As you walk, Neteyam starts to playfully tease you, pretending to be a predator stalking you.

"Oh no, it's the fearsome Neteyam!" you say, pretending to be scared.

Neteyam grins and chases after you playfully, pretending to be a fierce beast. "I'm going to get you!" he says.

You laugh and run away, trying to evade him. You dart through the trees and over the streams, always just out of Neteyam's reach.

Finally, you stop to catch your breath, giggling and panting. "You're so silly," you add, giving him a playful shove.

Neteyam grins and wraps his arms around you. "I just can't help it," he says. "I love making you laugh."

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Neteyam is a tender and loving kisser, often taking his time to savor each moment of intimacy with his partner and show them how much he cares.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

Neteyam shows his love for his partner through small acts of kindness, such as preparing a special meal using ingredients from Pandora's natural world or creating a beautiful piece of art as a gift. He also communicates his feelings through heartfelt words and gestures of affection, such as singing a love song in the Na'vi language or performing a traditional dance to express his love and devotion. Neteyam is deeply connected to Pandora and its natural world, and he often finds creative ways to incorporate these elements into his expressions of love and affection for his partner.

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

Neteyam's favorite memory with his partner is the first time they bonded with their own banshees together, which was a powerful and emotional experience that brought them closer together.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

Neteyam's worst fear is losing his partner, and he often worries about their safety and well-being.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

One quirk that Neteyam has is that he is very attuned to the natural world and can often sense changes in the environment or the presence of animals.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

Neteyam's favorite pet name for his partner is "my mate," which he uses often and affectionately.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

Neteyam likes to spend quality time with his partner by doing activities that they both enjoy, such as exploring Pandora's natural beauty or sharing a quiet moment together.

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

The song that reminds Neteyam of his partner is "I Choose You" by Sara Bareilles.

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

Neteyam is very open and honest with his partner, and he values their trust and confidence in him. He is willing to share his deepest secrets and vulnerabilities with them.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

It took Neteyam and his partner some time to get together, as they were both busy with their own responsibilities and commitments. However, they were patient and understanding with each other, and eventually found the right time to pursue their relationship.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

When his partner is upset, Neteyam is very supportive and comforting, often holding them close and offering words of encouragement and understanding.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

He is proud of his partner and their many achievements and accomplishments, and he likes to show them off to others whenever he can.

Neteyam and you are attending a gathering of the Na'vi clans, where members of different clans come together to share news and celebrate their cultural traditions. You have just finished performing a traditional dance, and you are receiving praise and congratulations from the other clans.

Neteyam stands by proudly, beaming with pride at your talent and accomplishment. "Aren't they amazing?" he says to the other clan leaders, gesturing to you. "She's the best dancer in all of Pandora, in my opinion."

The other leaders nod in agreement, praising your skills and grace. "They are truly gifted," one of them says.

Neteyam grins and takes your hand, squeezing it affectionately. "I'm so proud of you," he says. "You're the most talented and beautiful Na'vi I've ever met."

You smile and blush, clearly touched by Neteyam's words. The two of you continue to celebrate and enjoy the gathering together, reveling in your shared pride and joy.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

Neteyam is a skilled warrior and takes his role as a protector seriously. He would fight for his partner and defend them with everything he has.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

He is able to read his partner very well and has a deep understanding of their emotions and thoughts.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

If Neteyam were to propose to his partner, he would do so in a way that is meaningful and personal to them, taking into account their shared culture and values as Na'vi from Pandora. He might take them on a special trip to a sacred site on Pandora, where they can connect with the natural world and the spirit of their ancestors. He could then ask for their hand in marriage in a heartfelt and sincere way. No matter how he chooses to propose, Neteyam is likely to make it a memorable and meaningful moment that reflects his love and devotion to his partner.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

What makes Neteyam feel calm is spending time with his partner and being in nature. He finds solace in the beauty and serenity of Pandora's natural world, and feels at peace when he is with his loved ones.

#avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar imagine #avatar imagines #neteyam #jake sully #avatar alphabet #avatar headcanons #neteyam x reader