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preeningpisces · 22 days

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♡ Too Sensitive - Part One ♡

Telling the JJK men you get too sensitive right before you cum and always have to stop, effectively ruining your orgasms.

Includes: Geto, Gojo, Nanami, and Toji Part Two

Content: cunnilingus, fingering, p-in-v, overstimulation, edging

Petnames: sweetheart, girl, good girl

18+ Content below, mdni, implied chubby f!reader - enjoy!

Geto is sly & coaxes you through it: the fact you need his help to do something so simple brings out his possessive side–he’s the only one that can make you cum, not even you can do it.

♡ ♡ ♡

“Such a needy girl,” Suguru looks all too-pleased as he strokes your clit, watching you closely. “Can’t even make yourself cum—you need me to do it for you.” Lost in the clouds you nod dumbly and sink into the couch. When you mentioned your problem offhandedly, you never expected your friend to offer a helping hand. In reality, you shouldn’t have been shocked. It’s in Suguru’s nature to step-in and help out--to take care of you. Apparently, your eyes slipped shut without notice, because Suguru pats your cheek–gently, but firm enough to wake you from your reverie. “Keep your eyes on me.”

After directing you to sit-up and face forward on the couch, he kneels on the floor between your legs. With eyes fixed on you, he lowers his mouth and lays a kiss on your chubby mound. Embarrassment floods through you, and it deepens when he mouths at your labia. He continues like this, kissing and sucking near your pussy, but not giving you what you really want.

“C’mon,” you pull on his hair, urging him to hurry. “Don’t be a dick.”

“Needy and demanding," he chuckles before trapping your clit with a harsh suck. Shocked, you yank on his hair and shout. Going from no touch at all to such intense focus is too much, too soon. Instinctively you try to pull his head away. He ignores it at first, but when you continue pushing at his forehead he detaches from your clit with a rough suck. Your wrists are captured, and guides them to the edge of the couch.

“Don’t move them, or I’ll have to tie you up,” he says with a wink and returns to your swollen clit–if he could leave a hickey there, his sucking is hard enough he would. The couch cushions crumble beneath your fingers, and your legs tremble when he doesn’t let up. You practically howl when he shakes his head back and forth, his hum buzzing through your pussy.

“God, I can’t take it, I can’t–I can’t” you ramble, alternating between rolling towards and away from his mouth. A smack to your thigh makes it wobble, and reminds you to watch him. The look in his eyes makes you burn as your end approaches, and now you frantically try to get away from him. “Suguru, stop!”

His lips twitch in amusement, and his hands keep you in place with a halting grip on your plush thighs. You come with a scream, and feel your pussy leak all over his face and couch. He groans against you as he soothes you with kitten licks, eyes never leaving your face as it succumbs to pleasure. Before you can fully unwind, he slides two fingers in you with a soft squelch and a sly smile.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.”

Gojo is playful & teases you through it: he’s excited by the challenge, and is confident he can get you to your orgasm without making it unpleasant. He’ll have you begging for more.

♡ ♡ ♡

Why you thought telling Satoru Gojo, the most obnoxious person you know, about your sex problems was a good idea, you still don’t know.

“Satoru fuck oooooff,” you whine as your hips jerk in a desperate search for more as he steps away from the bed. He has denied you an orgasm three times already. Not coming is standard for you, and you essentially edge yourself all the time, but he’s been clever enough to stop right before you get over-sensitive. Edging you before you edge yourself, if that makes sense, and it’s been driving you mad.

“You told me to stop, yeah? I thought it was ‘too much,’” he mocks your earlier plea and tone. It's true–you had told him you couldn’t handle it when you got close, and ever since then, he’s been tormenting you. His large hand skims over your stomach with a look of mischief. “Are you going to let me make you cum,” he squeezes the fat of your mound, “or are you gonna cry about it again?”

You shake your head, ready to endure any discomfort to finally release the heavy tension in your body.

“I’ll take it. Please make me cum–oh fuck!” Your plea is cut off with a squeal as he thrusts his cock into you. It stretches you deliciously; he grimaces with effort as he allows you to adjust. As soon as you beg him to start moving he sets a rapid pace, barely holding himself back. His thumb finds your raw clit, and flicks it with upward strokes, greedily watching his cock disappear.

“Holy shit, you’re tight,” he says through gritted teeth, and forces himself to slow his thrusts. He wants you to cum first, then cum again, and again before the night lets up. Instead of pulling out, he grinds his cock against your g-spot mercilessly in tandem with his thumb. You nearly scream when he presses his hand onto your squishy stomach, increasing the pressure against the tender area. “Oh, you really like that, don’t you?”

His smugness is as sexy as it is irritating, and you bite your tongue when the rush of nerves sets in, making you want to roll away and prevent him from touching you any further. But the thought of him teasing you all over again makes you quiet yourself, only whimpering behind closed lips. It doesn’t take much more for you to come, and cry out pathetically. Your pussy clamps around his cock so hard he falls foreward with a swear, and has to squeeze the base of his cock to prevent himself from joining you.

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” he lifts your hips in strong hands, and pulls back only to surge his cock back in. “Now hold on–we’re just getting started.”

Nanami is encouraging & soothes you through it: of course he wants you to cum, but he doesn’t want it to be unpleasant or cause you pain. He knows he needs to be mindful.

♡ ♡ ♡

Normally he would prefer to eat you out, but with how overwhelming this is for you, he needs his mouth free to talk. He has your back leaning against his chest as he traces steady, gentle circles on your clit, and languidly thrusts his fingers in you. During a discussion about incoporating sex into your relationship, you explained your issue with orgasming, and since then Kento swore he would make you cum everyday to make up for the lost time. Who knows how many times you've missed out in your life?

“It’s too much,” you whine against his mouth, your legs trying to shut and keep him away. Wet sounds fill the silence as he disregards your complaint. It surprises you that Kento isn’t listening and continues fingerfucking your pussy instead–he’s always such a respectful man, so the fact that he’s pushing you past your limits turns you on more than you’d expected.

“You’re alright, just a little more.” He eases his pace despite his words, not having the heart to ignore you completely; the way your pussy squeezes around him makes his cock throb and tempts him to go faster. A flash of heat burns your core when he spreads his fingers, scissoring them and stretching your pussy. You're hushed by his lips, kissing you slowly to keep you from floating away. A particularly sharp thrust to your g-spot makes you tear away from him with moan, and roll into his hand. Pleased with your compliance, he rewards you with kisses down your neck, and an affectionate nip to your shoulder. You wind your hand through his hair, holding him hostage with the crook of your arm.

"I'm going to speed up now, okay?" is the only warning you're given before he's gathering your wetness to glide over your clit with quick strokes; his fingers focusing on your g-spot with deliberate pulses. Suddenly your panting becomes frantic, and your body jerks with restless energy.

"Oooh god, slow down I--Kento!"

“Just breathe, sweetheart. You can do it.” The encouragement makes you still with a sob, the searing heat on your clit finally releases and you come so hard you distantly worry you’ll pass out. His delicate circling continues, but slows down considerably as he whispers praises in your ear. It takes everything within him to not roll you over and fuck you until you see stars. All he wants is to see your pretty face scrunch in pleasure again.

“Are you alright?" you nod, and he moves you to lie down. "Thank you for trusting me. I know that was hard,” he presses a kiss to your forehead, supporting your boneless body in his arms.

Toji is cocky & pushes you through it: he knows all you need is a little push–your mind just doesn’t have the willpower to keep going when it gets sensitive. Incompetent partners wouldn’t recognize an orgasm if it slapped them in the face & wouldn’t notice you didn’t cum. But thankfully, he sure as hell can fix that

♡ ♡ ♡

With alcohol-loosened lips, you lamented your struggle with orgasming to your colleauges, earning bewildered stares from the two men. Next thing you know, you're back in your hotel room with Toji’s head nestled between your thighs, making you jerk and convulse as he licks you down. With his tongue fat and flat, he grinds against your clit, making you feel the texture of his taste buds.

So eager he hadn't even undressed you: he just pushed you back on the bed, rolled your skirt up, and tore a hole in your pantyhose. It’s felt amazing thus far, you can feel yourself dripping on the bed, but anxiety prickles in your chest as your orgasm approaches. You worry that you’ll have to stop, make him upset that he couldn’t make you cum, and ruin the mood. Not to mention, sorely wound his ego--even though that thought amuses you, you wouldn't intentionally hurt him.

As if hearing your inner dilemma, your body lurches with a sudden surge of red-hot sensitivity, making you yelp and pull at his hair. Toji only hums, appreciating the rough treatment.

“I don’t know if I can do it. I’m s-sorry–ah!” Your thighs squeeze around his head, signaling for him to stop. The plea is ignored, and instead a thick arm pushes down against your soft stomach, pinning you in place. You thrash beneath his hold, but he doesn’t budge, and sucks your aching clit into his mouth with his tongue flicking relentlessly. If you weren’t so fucked out of your mind, you’d notice how he grinds into the bed, and grunts against your pussy. When you keep protesting, he pulls away with an irritated glare.

"You can, and you will." His assertive confidence makes you tingle with nervous anticipation--he really isn't going to listen to you, is he? You don't have long to contemplate this because he licks you from your ass to your clit in one long swoop--which makes you squawk in disbelief--and rolls the bud between his lips before sucking more roughly than before.

Knowing exactly what you need, he pushes your mound up with his spare hand and hums around your clit noisily. It’s so intense you shout, and weakly slap at his shoulders as you’re shoved over the edge–only the sound of his slurping competes with you to fill the room.

After several moments of twitching and whimpering, your mind clears enough for you to look at him. At some point he had lowered your legs to sit back on his knees, and now stares at you with a cocky grin and a wet face.

“Atta girl,” he palms his bulge through his baggy pants. “Think you got another in you?”

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ameliora-j · 3 months

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I absolutely adore your writing <3 could you please write a blurb with Steve h, where the reader says their safe word because she’s too over stim and Steve thinks he’s hurt her when she’s reassures him she’s fine just sore, so he showers her with his best after care as he apologises every couple seconds <3

thank u baby ! ♡

content: vibrator, clit play, fem!reader, degradation, safeword, THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG MDNI

your body trembles as you lay, spread eagle, atop steve’s sheets. steve has a vibrator pressed to your clit, his arm holding your hips down. one of your shirts being used to bind your hands to the headboard, a scarf tied tight around your eyes to block your vision, and your panties shoved into your mouth to act as a gag.

steve is punishing you for mouthing off—overstimulation being his favorite punishment. your orgasms began to bleed together around the third and the fourth, and by now you had lost count of how many you’d had. the makeshift blindfold is wet with tears, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth as you sob. “yeah, not so snarky now, are you princess?” he mocked. “just a stupid little slut now” he laughs, slapping your thighs.

you shriek with each slap, gritting your teeth as you try to power through it. your clit is on fire, the pained pleasure bleeding into pure pain now as you breathe heavily. “cum again whore i know you can” steve growls, pressing the vibrator harder to your clit. impossibly, he turns the vibrator even higher, causing you to yelp in pain and choke over a sob.

“red!” you call, muffled through the panties. if steve didn’t hear that, the three knocks you lay against the headboard are clear as day. immediately, the vibrator is off your clit—dropping to the floor with a distinctive ‘thud.’

steve pulls the panties from your mouth first, untying your shirt from your wrists, and pulling the blindfold off your eyes. “hey, princess…” steve whispers softly. you hiccup over a soft sob, trying to get closer to steve, so he pulls you to his chest. “it’s okay, i’m right here” he kisses your head softly, leaning up against the headboard with you sat on his lap.

“‘m sorry stevie, i was just so sore and… it started to hurt really bad and i wanted to…” steve shushes you gently. his hand strokes over your hip, cooing at you as he presses kisses across your head.

“don’t apologize, baby. that’s what the safe word is for” he reassures you, kissing your head over and over. “i’m sorry that i hurt you, princess. got a little carried away” he murmurs.

“it’s okay stevie… ‘m okay” you sniffle, hugging him tight. “can we have a bath?” you ask quietly.

“we can do whatever you want, baby” he smiles. he lifts you from the bed, carrying you into the ensuite bathroom. he sets you down on the counter, kissing your nose, then your lips gently. “i love you” he whispers.

“i love you, stevie” you smile softly, stroking his cheek. steve makes the perfect bath for you, hot water with calming bath salts and lavender scented bubbles to help relax you. he lefts you and sets you softly in the tub, kissing your head again.

“you want me in with you?” he asks softly, to which you nod. steve sits behind you and pulls you to lay against his chest. the air is serene as steve gently massages your body, cupping water over your skin as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

“‘m sorry i hurt you, baby” he whispers once more.

“you’re already forgiven, stevie” you smile, looking up and kissing him softly. “‘m okay” you hum.

#nani’s angels 👼🏽#fanmail 💌#nsfw.nani #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #— nani fantasizes ☽

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killakirby · 1 year

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‧͙⁺˚･༓☾　late night flying　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

notifications ☽︎: feelings of inadequacy, stress, near death experiences, na'vi body descriptions, fem!na'vi!reader, sully's being teases

developer's notes ☽︎: hey i did say it would be out around this time :/ i'm doing my best. first work on tumblr since like 2016 be kind i'm supplying my thirst. i was just checking the word count to paste it here, and i genuinely thought lo'ak's was shorter than neteyam's, i was wrong 💀 prepare yourself, it's a novel lmao and yes this is a reminder that i consider these drabbles. also if you find yourself loving this work send me an ask for a request and i'd be thrilled to fulfill it!

much love, <3 kirby !!!

⋆☾ NETEYAM SULLY - 1.8k words

it’s difficult for neteyam to have the time and energy to be an impulsive and disobedient kid like his brother. he spends most of his time shadowing his parents learning how to lead or chasing after his younger siblings and making sure that in their shenanigans they don’t get hurt. so, most of the time he’s only disobedient when he’s making sure his siblings are safe, which is honorable and cute. neteyam is also disobedient when he finds himself wanting to spend more time with you.

the fifteen years neteyam has been living, he’s constantly had people tell him that he’s a perfect son. that he’s smart, compassionate, strong; that he's going to be a great warrior–and a great olo’eyktan. however, he hasn’t heard that he’s the perfect son from his parents, but he doesn't have to hear it to know that they’re thinking it. he sees in how they scold lo’ak after another stupid stunt he pulled, “why can’t you try to be more careful? or, better yet, less reckless?” his dad would ask. neteyam knows the only thing lo’ak heard is, “why can’t you be more like your brother?” and it’s starting to be the only thing neteyam hears too. when he was younger he probably wouldn’t care so much about the jealous and now defeated looks lo’ak throws his way, but recently, neteyam is feeling every molecule of pressure from the village, his siblings, and his parents to continue being perfect. it doesn’t help that lo’ak has seemed to become resigned in his role of irresponsible-impulsive-brother, too, it only magnifies the pressure on neteyam to be better.

spider, lo’ak, kiri (and even tuk!), tease him for being a “goody-two shoes,” an english phrase their father had taught them. and today neteyam has had enough of hearing it. he woke up early with his father to prepare their ikran for patrol, sparred with him for hours, had his bow and flight technique nitpicked by his mother, and now he has to supervise his siblings scaling the mountains to make sure they don’t die exploring without the permission of their parents. and when they all tease him for being a “goody-two shoes,” for not wanting to venture further, he snaps. neteyam hisses and stalks his way over to the edge of the mountain, “whatever. go ahead and get involved in some dangerously stupid situation that you can’t get yourself out of and when i’m not there to save you, like i always am, have fun calling mom and dad to save your ass! and i’ll make sure to be back to enjoy seeing your dumbassess getting yelled at for your lack of brain cells, as usual.”

he calls his ikran, initiates the bond, ignores the calls apologizing and telling him to stop, and takes off into the sky. neteyam flies for what feels like minutes to him–feels the wind cascade through his braids, the cool air rushing across his skin, the sun battling the breeze to warm him, the complete understanding between him and his ikran, not needing to a single word or thought to guide. as he’s gliding through a spattering of small mountains and makes out your form and ikran ground atop of one, his curiosity gets the best of him this time, and he lands next to you.

you’re on the ground leaning against the body of your ikran, it’s wing shielding you from the strong rays of the sun, keeping you cool. the freckles on your smooth blue-toned skin are glowing a soft white under the shade of the wing, a false replication of night. your legs are comfortably stretched-out and crossed in front of you, along with your arms crossed over your chest, your head and back resting on the warm ikran. as neteyam walks closer he sees your chest rising and falling slowly, eyes gently shut, and a look of bliss on your face. he sighs, relieved, greets your ikran with a bow of his head, and gets a welcoming coo of acknowledgment and a head shake in return, jostling your body and causing you to rouse.

a soft groan leaves your lips, ears and tail flicking in displeasure, before your eyes flutter open and drowsily make contact with his own. you blink a few times, making a small sound of confusion, “huh?”, and your hands come up to rub at your eyes, as if seeing him here is a figment of your imagination. neteyam smiles, a warm laugh escaping him, amused by how adorable you are, even though he disturbed you from your little nap. his amusement lets you know he is in fact real, his laugh awakens the butterflies in your stomach, and your tail hides in embarrassment at being caught hiding (by him, of all people) away from everyone else, as your cheeks darken into an indigo-tinted blush.

you shyly make an effort at eye contact and fail as you try to explain your situation to him. “i was just–”, he waves off your voice and states with a small smirk, “no need to explain yourself, it’s not like you’re in trouble with me.” you shrug, muttering a few deprecating words to yourself and are about to stand, when neteyam sits next you. he pulls his knees to his chest, arms wrapped around himself, chin resting on his knees, sighing deeply, eyes fixed ahead on the skyscape, his strikingly handsome faced furrowed with anger? stress? hopelessness?

your eyes widen, shocked at how small he manages to look. it’s incredibly rare that he allows anybody to see him this vulnerable; he’s usually impeccably composed–attractively confident and sure of himself–but the idea that he’s allowing you to see him like this is a privilege you will not take advantage of. you scooch closer to him and place a gentle hand on his shoulder and softly ask, “are you feeling okay?” there’s silence for a while before his lips parted and shut, hesitating, before he shook his head, so faintly it was almost unnoticeable. you nodded, “ do you want to talk about it?” and received a verbal response this time, “no.” with a light rasp to his voice. with another nod, you delicately squeeze his shoulder and offer comfort, “then we will not talk about it. but, if you ever find yourself needing someone to talk to, you can always come to me. the circumstances do not matter. if you want advice, i’ll do my best to advise. if you want me to simply listen, my ears will be open. if you want to sit in silence, ill sit silently with you so you are not alone.”

neteyam turns to you in disbelief at the sincerity within your words, and surprises himself with how close you are, faces only inches apart. your eyes widen and you lean back a little bit, hand slipping off his shoulder, but the earnest look in your gaze remains, trying to gauge his response to your pledge. neteyam shakes his head at you, a happy scoff escapes his lips, and he calls you stupid for resigning yourself to a one-sided promise. you put your hands on your hips and tilt your head at him, not falling for the insult. “all that matters to me is that you have someone to speak your true feelings to and not allow them to eat at you from the inside out.” neteyam observes the seriousness in your eyes, the way your ears are turned towards him, the way tension coils in your tail, the way your eyes shift from his to the ground as if you’re just now considering the possibility that he may reject your offer.

neteyam stands, and nods affirmatively, tail flicking, “okay. i do not wish to talk about it. but now as my newly designated comfort person, you have to fly with me.” he offers you his hand, and gently raises you to your feet. you giggle at him, head tilted up to meet his eyes, “there has to be a better title besides ‘comfort person’ but i’ll take it! uh…are you going to let go of my hand so we can get flying?” neteyam drops your hand, and scratches at his head, now it’s his turn for his cheeks to turn indigo. you mount your ikran, and call down to him with a smirk on your face, “trying to race?” neteyam laughs at you, goading, “when i win, don’t hurt yourself trying to eat my dust!” you kick-off getting a head start, and neteyam is quick to mount his ikran and follow you into the sky.

the challenge you had set began with adrenaline-pumped blood, heavy breathing, sharp turns, dives and peaks, free-falling, frivolous chasing after one other, the lead switching between the two of you often, screams of glee and awe when one of you pulled off an unreal maneuver–and turned into cruising instead of racing. eclipse had long since passed, somehow going unnoticed by you and surprisingly, neteyam. your gliding had turned into intertwining flight paths–swirling, flipping, mixing, turning, all synchronized as if it were a dance you two had practiced many times before. neteyam finds himself distracted from guiding his ikran, as his whole thought process becomes consumed with the image of you.

the bioluminescent freckles twinkling on your face in an unknown pattern, and he wonders if his match yours. the way you let your eyes drift shut, how your head is tilted back, how your arms raise and spread into the air as your ikran coasts through a flip in the air. a soft smile remains constant on your lips as you fly, and grows larger when you open your eyes again and turn to him. you pick up speed to overtake him, and set the path through a few cliff sides, while neteyam raises his hand to his face and realizes that he’s been grinning like a madman the whole time he’s been with you. when you two escape the maze of terrain, he coasts right next to you and sees the moonlight hit your lithe body at the perfect angle and allows himself to accept the fact that he’s falling in love with you. and then his heart drops into his stomach, his ikran shrieks and comes to a sudden stop, wings flapping frantically to remain in the same space– sending you and your ikran into a panic, as you quickly turn back to him, and worriedly question him, scared at the paled look on his face.

neteyam buries his face into his hands and silences your bewilderment by pulling a hand from his face and pointing into the sky, finally bringing your awareness to you guys messing around way past eclipse. you eyes widen and your mouth drops open, a groan of despair escaping you, and you look at neteyam, and both of you say,

“we’re so dead.”

and as you two start to race home, debating whether or not to lie about how you guys ended up losing track of time this badly, neteyam can’t help but think that any punishment he receives from his mom and dad wouldn’t matter, in light of the discovery he made today. the fact that he’s falling in love with you, and the fact that he doesn’t want to do anything to stop it.

⋆☾ LO'AK SULLY - 2k words

lo’ak’s just finished being scolded by not only his mother and his father, but also his grandmother after his latest stunt of nearly killing his younger sister, tuk, unintentionally of course. how was he supposed to know that she was going to sneeze and fall off the vines connecting the mountains plummeting to the ground only to be saved by neteyam on his ikran…again. in his anger of being banned from patrolling and flying for two weeks he sulks into the jungle and comes across you.

lo’ak retreats into the jungle after being dismissed by his father, angered and simultaneously exhausted. it’s like his parents think that he purposely tried to kill his little sister–why would he want that?? and at the bare minimum, why don’t they scold tuk for tagging along and blackmailing him all the time? “if you don’t take me, i’m going to tell” she’d singsong at him. even though he’s breaking rules anyway, they should at least tell tuk not to partake in it with him.

he wasn’t even planning on getting in trouble today! tomorrow,he was supposed to join his parents and neteyam on checking the borders of their land, and he just wanted to share the news with his ikran. so when tuk wanted to come along to see the ikrans, he thought nothing could possibly go wrong, they’re all grouped next to their main dwelling in the mountains. he helped tuk climb to the top, and they both greeted the flock and made their way to his mount. he bring his hand to his forehead and gestures towards the animal, and tuk does the same. the ikran leans towards tuk and snorts at her gently blowing stray grass on to her face. she shrieks and giggles freely–happily, and lo’ak gently laughs at them as he bring his hand to pet the playful animal.

tuk mimics her older brother and gently pats the ikran on the snout a few times before she becomes distracted at the others milling around uninterestedly. she goes off to examine a few juvenile ikrans and lo’ak prods her, “hey! make sure to stay where i can see and hear you!” tuk nods vigorously and begins to play with the babies. lo’ak watches over her quietly for a few minutes, trying to determine whether or not any of the birds are going to try and swallow her whole, and nods acceptingly after witnessing the mature ikrans grumble and waddle away from her instead of attacking her.

with his sister’s safety secured he turns around to face his ikran (his ears still pinned in her direction) and forms the tsaheylu with his ride–amber pupils blown wide as the bond is initiated. lo’ak loses himself in his thoughts, illustrating them for the animal, and is only shaken from it when he hears his sister sneeze, which is quickly followed by a bone-chilling shriek. his body snaps around so quickly that his braid rips from the bond, and he see his little sister fall in what seems like slow-motion. lo’ak screams her name as she falls over the edge, and instinctively reconnects with his ikran and flies over the edge to try and catch her. he’s diving straight down, gaining on her but not quickly enough for the panic and fear to subside in his chest. he’s reaching out– his hand a few feet apart from tuk’s, and he misses the first grab, the second grab, and then her body is snatched out freefall and into neteyam’s arms.

lo’ak levels out and speeds towards them, tuk clinging onto their brother–head buried into his chest, sobs wracking her tiny form. neteyam’s hand cradles her head, and he turns to lo’ak ready to yell at him, but the expression on his younger brother’s face stops him. there’s fear in his eyes, tears running down his cheeks and he keeps trying to wipe them away but he can’t seem to stop himself from crying. neteyam smoothly guides his ikran right next to lo’ak and gently detaches tuk from his body and into his brother’s who hesitantly accepts her onto his saddle. she clings on to him crying erratically, broken “sorry’s” falling from her mouth in between sobs, and even as lo’ak comforts her pulling her close and rubbing his hand down her back in a soothing manner, the look in his eyes betrays him; that’s he's feels undeserving of her apologies. neteyam gently rubs lo’ak on the back, and does nothing besides giving him an understanding nod, and coasts in front of him to lead them home.

“my parents only heard the fact that tuk fell, and not the fact that i feel like shit for letting that happen to her!! it’s like they genuinely think that im putting her in dangerous situations on purpose! like i find some sort of satisfaction in it! i’m not a psychopath, i’m her brother! i care about her safety more than my own! i’d literally die for tuk!” he rants to you. he stumbled across you sitting on a river bank sharpening your knife, and as soon as you saw him you cringed at his expression and asked a simple, “you going to tell me what happened this time?” and now hear you are, listening to lo’ak repeat the same argument against his parents’ for what had to be hours. you glance at the sky and see the sun beginning to bridge the horizon, eclipse will fall upon you two soon.

for the first time you interrupt and ask, “did you tell your parents that?” lo’ak throws his hands up in the air and begins pacing back and forth exasperatedly claiming, “i tried!! multiple times! and they just spoke over me–they didn’t want to hear it! even neteyam came to my defense trying to explain for me, and they dismissed his words too!!” your eyes widened as you said perplexed, “they ignored what neteyam had to say?” lo’ak screamed, “yes!” in complete disbelief.

“and now you’re banned from flying,” you clarify.

“yes!”

“and patrolling.”

“yes!!”

you nodded at him, “well it could be a lot worse—”

“what??! what do you mean a lot worse?! this is terrible!” he cried out.

“they could’ve banned you from flying forever,” you smirked at him.

he sighs, a petty little “not funny” escaping from him, and you laugh, letting him know that you thought your joke was funny enough. you watch him continue to pace, his body language still unsettled (you just can’t determine if it’s from his punishment, or not being enough to save his sister), his fingers rake through his braids tugging and pulling at his scalp frustratedly, and you’ve had enough when you see the deep blue skin on his hands start to lighten with the force and grasp he has on his hair. you intercept his path, place an unyielding hand on his chest holding him in place, and with a firm look on your face you demand, “stop tugging at your hair like that. you’ve spent so much time growing these pretty braids it would be a shame to see you rip them out of your own skull.”

lo’ak freezes, eyes wide and locked onto yours, as he releases his braids and his arms fall limp at his sides. he’s not sure if he stopped because he was listening to your instructions, or if because he short-circuited when you called him pretty (okay, you called his braids pretty–it’s a miniscule difference). you state confidently, “if you are not allowed to fly for the next two weeks, that does not mean that i am not allowed fly. which means that you are allowed to fly with me.” lo’ak balks at your bold statement, “uh…” hesitantly calling out to you as you step away from him (your hand just now falling from his chest, yes he noticed) and summon your ikran. he goes, “uhhhh, no! nope! i do not think that is what that means at all!” you climb onto your saddle, and plead, “lo’ak, please let me try to make you feel better. they won’t be wondering where you are until eclipse, and we only have a couple hours left before we lose daylight. fly with me one last time until you really can’t?”

he shifts his weight, battling with himself before he sighs and allows you to help him onto the back of the saddle, “alright, but only until eclipse, okay?” you cheer, and commence a quick take off, causing lo’ak to shout and hurriedly wrap his arms around your waist, and how is this the first time he’s noticed how small you are compared to him. you continue to direct your ikran upwards and into the clouds bringing him further away from his troubles on the ground.

your waist is enveloped completely by just one of his arms, and in order to make the ride more comfortable he pulls his hands backwards and just grasps carefully at the sides of your waist instead, his fingers almost close enough to touch across your stomach. it seems you’ve just become aware of the situation and he feels your breath catch, and stomach tense, but you say nothing, content to avoid addressing it and let him handle it. he sees the deeper shade to your cheeks and smiles boyishly and he knows that you know that he’s cheesing at you, but you refuse to acknowledge his amusement, keeping your eyes fixed forward but the blush becomes noticeable on your ears, and begins to spread to your chest, and he can’t stop himself from audibly laughing. in retaliation, you command your ikran into a sharp flip, and lo’ak’s gasp interrupts his laughter, and he tightens his grasp on your waist to stop himself from sliding.

when you level out it appears that night has finally overtaken day, but the both of you are too busy squealing internally at the fact that his agile, strong, trained, veiny hands are gripping your waist. the bioluminesce begins to sparkle over your body, and he merely leans back to get a better look at you. you turn to look at him and see a soft smile on his face, his eyes overflowing with feelings he has yet to speak with you about; and nevertheless, you understand completely, and you’re sure it’s reflected at him in your own gaze. you shyly face frontwards again, recognizing that you embarrassed yourself enough around him today with bold words and touches, but lo’ak does not let you hide for long. he scoots forward completely, no longer worried about maintaining the space between you. his chest envelopes your back and he leans forward to gently place a fleeting kiss on your cheek, your breath catches again. instead of teasing you as before, he pulls back–dropping one hand to the body of your ikran and allows the other to wrap across you more firmly, his hand pressing against your abdomen encouraging you to rest against him, and you breathe deeply, allowing yourself to be embraced. his chin goes to rest on your head, and you allow your ikran to guide you home, fully at ease in lo’ak’s arms.

lo’ak gently offers, “let’s spend a little more time out here. just you and me, together.” you begin to half-heartedly reject, reminding him of the circumstances of his punishment and curfew. he waves you off, “it does not matter, you said it yourself. they can’t ban me from flying forever, what’s another week of grounding to the two i have already?” you twist to make sure of his decision, before nodding and turning around again, settling yourself even deeper and more comfortably in his hold.

you suggest to your ikran to take the longest path home.

#kirby's crafts ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗#☾...avatar way of water...☽#⋆｡°✩drabbles #✩...neteyam sully...✩#✩...lo'ak sully...✩#neteyam x reader #loak x reader #lo'ak x reader #neteyam #neteyam sully #lo'ak #loak #lo'ak sully #loak sully #avatar way of water #avatar 2 #atwow #atwow x reader

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deunmiu-dessie · 1 month

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▬ ⁽ 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝒹𝑒 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎: ₂˖₁ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎: unedited----- attempted murder, fluff(??), angst. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ꒰shade ₊⊹ gn!reader꒱

thinking of a shade, just a little more powerful and smarter than the rest, becoming your protector. little ol' you who's had severe insomnia since you were a child. ♡

shade who didnt want to at first, since it usually didn't meddle in human affairs; besides you were nothing special. ♡

shade who ignores you for the first couple of days before begrudgingly shooing away the pesky, lower demons who crawl over your body. ♡

shade who lays next to you and wraps you within its arms ˙◠˙

shade who finds immense satisfaction in watching you sleep for the first time in a long time. ♡

shade who watches as the demons instead prey on your family. ♡

shade who is too enamored with you to even care. ♡

shade who watches your family fall apart. ♡

𝒴 our lashes flutter open in the inky black room, eyes reflecting a glossy sheen from the remnants of sleep, all while the sound of your sniveling fills the darkness that surrounds you. Against your pale complexion, the deep, dark circles under your eyes become prominent, now moistened by the tears streaming down your cheeks in small rivers. You struggle to recall the last time you experienced a full night's sleep, the memory fading away as you reach the tender age of seven.

Despite the numerous prescriptions, medical professionals, therapists, and even herbal teas you have tried, none have succeeded in lulling you to sleep. You remain confined to your bed, yearning for the day when your eyes will finally close and you’lll find respite in sleep, yet that day never arrives. Occasionally, you manage to drift off into a state of unconsciousness, albeit for a mere five or ten minutes, but it never feels like true sleep. Every now and then your plagued by nightmares—disturbing and horrifying dreams that startle you awake, leaving you gasping for breath.

Ever since you were a small child, you had been wanting, no craving to have a good night's rest– though your weren't so sure anymore. Not if the black abyss that threatens to swallow you whole almost every night is the thing greeting you happily when you finally succumb to the person that is sleep.

Nevertheless, you refuses to let it impact you social life. Each morning, as the sun warmly embraces you with a melancholic smile, you rise from your bed and diligently apply layers of concealer and foundation to mask the exhaustion evident in your eyes. Peering into the mirror, you practice a smile, willing your eyes to sparkle, and whisper softly to yourself, "I'm okay."

You're not okay, you swerve gently in and out of traffic, eyelids heavy as you force yourself to work. All you want is to sleep, to feel normal again. Deep down, you knows that what you yearn for is something you can never truly have, but yiu can always ‘dream’.

As the day finally draws to a close, you retreat to your bed – the same bed that bears the imprint of your body from countless nights, the same pillow that holds your thoughts and tears captive, and the same dusty dream catcher that fails to capture any dreams. You're anxious for what your mind might conjure up tonight, but you embrace it with ease – slipping beneath your cozy comforter and switching off the lamp.

A cool warmth envelops your body, your tense muscles finally finding release, and you feel a sense of relief wash over you. You nestle yourself into that snug cocoon – savoring the way it makes your eyes grow heavy with the blissful weight of sleep. It's not the kind of sleep that startles you awake in a panic every night, but rather one that feels natural and inviting.

You're too comfortable to notice the faint outline of a body beside you, mind too far gone to notice the emaciated arms that tighten themselves around your body, pressing your form into the depths of its torso. Even if you were of sound mind, you would simply attribute any strange sensations to your lack of sleep.

That night you sleep for the first time in twelve years, without any nightmares to ruin the unusual but sweet moment. You, this time, don't greet the sun as it rises in the sky, no, you don't wake up until late evening, waving goodbye to the sun as it drifts away from your sight.

Suddenly, your alarm blares from your nightstand, reminding you of your impending night shift. Dread fills you as you recall the eerie occurrences that often plague you during these dark hours– shadows come to life, items are in places you didn’t put them and customers come in faceless.

You feel fine today, energized even. You don't want to push your luck though; and so when you leave for work, passing your mother and older sister- who seem to be completely out of it, you grab an energy drink and wave them goodbye.

You worked diligently and quickly that night, your manager thoroughly surprised that your movements aren’t sluggish anymore and so he praises you enthusiastically– you can only smile in thanks as you rings up another customer.

The night goes on smoothly, and as the sun begins to rise and wave its warmth at you, you realize that the energy drink is still next to you, untouched. You're tired from working the night though and you clock out as soon as the time strikes 6AM.

Cool brisk air greets you as you exit the gas station, wisps of cold brushing your cheeks while you walk to your car. Excitement fills you as you look forward to finally getting some rest after a long day. However, a lingering sense of caution remains, reminding you that what occurred earlier might have been a mere coincidence; and so the car ride home is made up of your thumb tapping against the steering wheel and the sound of your heart pumping quickly. Silently, you ease open the door to the house, moving with delicate steps as you enter. You gently places your keys into a bowl, its transparent purple hue catching the light. You hang up your thin jacket and slide out of your shoes, placing them in front of the shoe closet haphazardly. As you ascend the staircase, your movements are hushed, making sure to avoid any creaks on the staircase. You reach your room door, a contented sigh escaping your lips. You plop down on your bed without a second thought, still clad in your work attire. With the room pitch black, You sleep easily. Cocooned in warmth once more, your body relaxes itself. Despite feeling a slight pressure on your body, you pay it no mind.

Sleep comes quick for you, but not your family. The moment your head touches the pillow, their nightmares start to rear their ugly heads, their once peaceful sleep is no more.

The dark figure that graces you with sweet dreams, relishes in the way your skin gains color, the way your dark circles lighten and your forehead creases smoothe out. You weren't special in any way, many humans out there had the exact same condition that you did- maybe even a bit worse off than you.

The entity couldn't resist being irresistibly drawn to you, despite its own reservations. Seeing a human with so much potential- wasted, was excruciating. So, it clings onto you tightly, using its presence as a protective barrier against the demons that are inexplicably lured by your human essence and dormant state. However, the shade finds itself far from bored. It observes as your chest rises and falls with each breath, watches as your lips curve sporadically with sleeping ticks; and the serene expression that graces your face. It can even discern the muffled whimpers and groans emanating from the rest of your family in the adjacent hallway, as the demons voraciously feed on their fear and anguish, draining their life force. The shade doesn’t care if your family suffers for a bit longer though, now they can fill your shoes. It was only fair. Your lashes flutter and then open at 8:19 PM, you can hear the sound of pots and pans in the kitchen just down the stairs and the soft jazz music that only plays when your mom is cooking. You slide out of bed and pad softly out of the room, stretching your body as you walk down the stairs.

"Good morning," you playfully mumble to your older sister, who is seated at the kitchen island. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion when your sister doesn't reply. Curiosity piqued, you took a few steps closer, gasp of surprise quickly stifled. Jo-Lene’s face is pale, her lips are chapped and her cheeks a bit sunken in. Around her eyes are dark circles that the girl has never gotten before. You cups your sister's face in your hands, titling it back and forth. “ Have you stayed up late working on your book?” Jo shakes her head, softly removing your hands from her cheeks. The older of the two of you shrugs her shoulders and covers a yawn with her hand. "I haven't been getting much sleep lately."

Slowly, she trails off and shakes her head, taking a moment to savor the dark coffee in her cup. "You know, besides the fact that I can't sleep, I also have the most terrible nightmares," she admits. You nod in understanding, settling down beside her and grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl. "You're starting to sound just like me," You tease, playfully rubbing her shoulder to offer comfort.

With a slow fade in her voice, she trails off and shakes her head, taking a deliberate sip of her dark coffee. "You know, it's not just me. Mom and Dad struggle with sleep too," she reveals. You glance at your mother, eyes widening in disbelief. "You're not kidding," You bite into your banana before pushing it against the side of your cheek to speak. “Weirdly? I’ve been able to sleep for the past 2 days. No nightmares; and for hours at a time.”

Your mother stops chopping up vegetables, mouth slightly ajar and eyebrows raised. “Oh! Honey, that's amazing, I’m so happy for you. How did you do it?” You can't recall doing anything out of the ordinary, except praying to sleep well. You shrug your shoulders and chew the banana some more before swallowing. “I didn’t do anything, it just happened.” Jo nudges you with a smile. “Maybe you’re cured.” You give her a sarcastic smile, grabbing her coffee and taking a sip. "I highly doubt it, probably just a one-time thing."

“Also, this could be temporary for you guys as well. I’m sure it’ll pass soon.”

Little did they know, this temporary situation was about to become a never-ending nightmare. Days turned into weeks, and your restful slumber continued while the rest of the family suffered from sleepless nights. As sleep deprivation took its toll, the atmosphere in the house became increasingly tense. Your fathers short fuse ignited violent outbursts, leaving you helpless as you watch your family crumbled before your eyes. Initially, you played the role of peacemaker, but as time went on, resentment grew.

As the weeks pass, younotices a shift in the house. Your family seems to be keeping their distance, observing your peaceful sleep and well-rested demeanor with suspicion. Slowly, they begin to direct their frustrations and animosity towards you.

You learn to sleep with your door locked, especially after a harrowing night where you wake up to an alarming pressure against your neck, feeling your father's chubby, thick hands squeezing your throat. Determined to protect yourself, you start sleeping with your door locked and even go as far as barricading it, when your mother begins sleeping beside you, clutching a knife tightly between the two of you. Your once close-knit family becomes a source of fear and suspicion, leading you to distance yourself and cut off communication. Preferring solitude, you opt to order food instead of joining them for dinner and secretly slip out of your window to go to work. You’re consumed by terror when it comes to your family, but you refuse to surrender to the sleepless nights you endured in the past.

Even if it kills you, you think your family can suffer for a little longer. You’ve dealt with severe Insomnia since you were little, and you were still sane. As a sharp knock resonates through the door, your body tenses. You hear your sister's gentle, drowsy voice calling out, "Are you awake?" Though cautious, you respond with a soft hum, ensuring Jo-Lene can hear you. “I want to apologize. Mom and Dad have gone a bit crazy.” You cut Jo off with a scoff. “A bit? Dad tried to strangle me and Mom isn’t any better.” Jo is silent for a moment before sniffling. “You're right, which is why I think you need to leave.” You blinked owlishly at the door, eyebrows furrowing. “What? What do you mean?”

“Mom and Dad have set up an account to transfer money to you.” A small envelope is slid underneath your door. “Find a motel to stay at until you think you’re ready for an apartment.” You bite the inside of your cheek, contemplating your decision. "Ok, then what.” Jo shrugs despite you not being able to see her. “We’ll see each other on Holidays?” She jokes softly but you don't laugh.

“For how long?”

“Until we can figure out this whole situation.”

You hum before getting out of bed and grabbing the envelope that has the credit card in it. “Okay. I’ll leave.”

You leave in the morning, without saying goodbye to your family and without looking back. You smile softly at the faint, dark outline of the entity next to you and sit on a bench in front of a bus stop.

“ Thank you.”

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cremecakess · 5 months

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Imagine being academic rivals with Riddle….

Academic rivals with Riddle, with you always leaning over to see what score he received, only to glare at him, seeing his full mark, while looking at your 99%

Academic rivals with Riddle, with the both of you rushing to see the finals scoreboard, only to smirk at Riddle when you see that you’ve stolen his spot at the top.

Academic rivals with Riddle, with the teachers at NRC expecting the familiar ‘What did you get?’ as soon as they hand out exam results. They’ve definitely hosted some bets on who would get the top score.

Academic rivals with Riddle, who threatens to have your head every time you beat him.

Academic rivals with Riddle, who always gets on your nerves when he always stupidly beats you in Animal Linguistics

Academic rivals with Riddle, the two of you always occupying the top 2 spots on the bulletin board, even during the usage of ‘Azul’s study guides’ (It was Riddle who got the top spot and you weren’t amused.)

im writing this at an ungodly hour so if any of this doesn't make sense blame it on my lack of sleep lolol

oh its probably gonna be ooc too

#twisted wonderland #twst #riddle rosehearts #twst riddle #twst drabble #twst fluff #twst x reader #riddle x reader #☂｡⋆｡☽ SUMI'S WRITING

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archonsabyss · 4 months

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what genshin character is extremely obsessed with your boobs? because my brain is dead, fried, incapable of thinking. I added this idea to my wips but it needs a character..

#☼☽⋆｡raie rambles “🕊️”#genshin smut #genshin fluff #genshin x female reader #genshin x you #genshin drabbles #genshin impact #genshin fic #genshin oneshots

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ruinakete · 3 months

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♡ ・ LETTERS TO THOSE WE MOTHER ━━━ an introspective, drabble series dedicated to zephia & eremiya

. a few days after apping zephia, i reread the script of NMotE and fell in love with eremiya's character. the potential, the archetype, and most of all, the backstory she was given. though i disliked how it was thrown messily into the script, i had no doubt that she could be a character i'd enjoy writing. which, then, led me to wonder how similar and different she and zephia were. and i must admit that i grew obsessed with the idea of them interacting with one another ( though, at first, the thought definitely stemmed from a flickering, romantic piece i wrote for them. pardon my insanity it was a voice test for eremiya,, ).

thus, i created this! letters to those we mother, is a drabble series where i hope to do an in-depth exploration of their characters, both in who they are, what they are, and the potential was created for them. though this is self-indulgent, i hope to entertain whoever reads along, whether in succession or standalone.

thank you, TOA, for letting me have the opportunity to explore writing styles within this setting, as these two would never tolerate one another otherwise.

further information ( synopsis, table of contents, disclaimers, schedule, set-up; all to be updated with each drabble posted to the dashboard ) beneath the readmore!

. SYNOPSIS. what happens when fodlan shatters the mirror separating an archetype? what should unfold when these two sides, cut from the same lengths of glass, find their hands touching, skin-upon-skin, without the safety of a reflection?

zephia dahut kurosawa, a mage dragon faithful at the feet of her lord, and eremiya n. ahava, a bishop condemned to obey the voice of her lord, have crossed into each other's territory and, thus, will embark on the reluctant path that mothers must retrace once their children have grown into young adults. a lifestyle they would have walked, separately, lest their corruptions never been birthed.

neither of these beasts have savored the taste of motherhood the way fate planned them to. so, what now? will their faith create permanent cracks in the mirror? will a dragon's realism and a bishop's pessimism meld together into the flawed glimpse of another; optimism?

this, only time would reveal.

. TABLE OF CONTENTS. as of planned, currently.

i. origins.

ii. cradles & fires.

iii. tbd.

iv. tbd.

v. tbd.

vi. tbd.

. DISCLAIMERS. neither zephia or eremiya are characters that will be redeemed in this series. instead, i hope to explain their conditions and explore the consequences to which they must be condemned. with this in mind, understand that these two muses are bad people and will not change automatically in the first drabble. the journey of self-introspection is a long one.

. SCHEDULE. estimated to be 6:00 pm on the 23rd day of every two months. ( ex. if the first drabble is posted on february 23rd, at 6:00 pm, then the next drabble would be posted on april 23rd, at 6:00 pm, and so on ) a brief prologue that contains a recap, teaser, and important information such as content warnings and writer notes will be posted at 9:00 pm on the 18th day of every two months.

. SET-UP. likewise, the order of drabble posting will switch between muses. this is with the hope that zephia and eremiya will have equal related posts to archive properly. the first drabble, origins, will be posted on zephia's blog, while the second, cradles & fires, will be posted on eremiya's blog. in that order ( zephia, eremiya, zephia, eremiya, etc ) the drabble series will be completed. none of these drabbles will be reblogged by either blog, simply linked. however, this post will be shared between blogs, just for easier access.

. final words from the mun. again, whether you read one or two or all drabbles in this series, i hope you enjoy it! if i missed any content warnings and need to tag any themes or spoilers, let me know and i'll correct the mistake. otherwise, that's all from me. see you on the 18th / 23rd, concerning the series, and may the day treat you kindly, reader! ( and ps. yes, i did choose the 23rd because the number is my birthday number MKSEWKMSDJN )

#☽ ━━━━━━ ❝ a bleeding dragonstone; her heart crystal ・【 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 】 .#the specific tags for this series will be created after i finish drafts . godbless #if you couldn't tell im actually so excited to start these ... been obsessing about this for a month my goodness #the first “chapters” i have planned are pretty .. violent / rough so i need to redesign a few scenes before i'm completely proud of them bu #+ just being able to put them in a setting that determines everything about where their “second life” goes is soooo fun #any questions can be tossed at me via dms unless you'd rather just smack me in the face w a ping :pray:#also . all mentions of other muses will be asked before the drabble drops i prommy! <3 #anywho! before i begin rambling! i scurry away to go be productive

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goldenhypen · 7 months

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i just remembered a dream i had about riki,, it was platonic and all but why did i wake up w,, feelings..? 😭 help 😭

#it was rlly cute 😭#imma write a drabble about this for all my riki stan’s #it was like bsf trope typa thing #but even tho the things done were platonic it def felt like smth more #😭😭😭#IM TOTALLT WRITING ABOUT THIS #em speaks #☽

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preeningpisces · 20 days

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♡ Too Sensitive - Part Two ♡

Telling the JJK men you get too sensitive right before you cum and always have to stop, effectively ruining your orgasms.

A/N: basically Choso is sweet—the other two are not lol

Includes: Choso, Kenjaku, and Sukuna Part One sorry for lumping you in with the baddies, Choso

Content: masturbation, fingering, cunnilingus, p-in-v, bondage, monsterfucking, dacryphilia, degradation, praise

Petnames: whore, my lord

TW: dubcon, sadism

18+ Content below, mdni, implied chubby f!reader - enjoy!

Choso is earnest & helps you through it. He wants you to cum, it’s one of the best parts of sex. Denying yourself every time, even if it isn’t intentional, has to be frustrating. He'll do whatever you need to get there.

♡ ♡ ♡

With how new relationships are for Choso, you haven’t added sex to the equation yet. Everything about intimacy is a learning curve, and even though the two of you agreed to take things slow, Choso has shown a clear yearning and interest in sex. So when he walks in on a failed masturbation attempt, all thoughts of easing into sex flew out the window. How was he supposed to forget the sight of your legs spread, head thrown back, and fingers working to make yourself come?

He crawled up the bed, and with pleading eyes, asked what was wrong. You insisted everything was fine, but Choso isn’t stupid: he knew you were masturbating, and it didn’t go how it was supposed to for whatever reason. Eagerness alone isn’t enough to make up for a lack of knowledge, however, and Choso feels almost as frustrated as you when he accepts he doesn’t know how to help.

It’s then you learn of Choso’s persuasion skills, because you now rub your clit for your boyfriend to watch. His gaze is heavy and irreverent—transfixed by your wet pussy.

“It’s so pretty,” he says when your hole twitches, and the compliment makes warmth flood through you. “Can I touch you?”

“A-ah, yeah, go ahead.” The scenario wounds your pride: you don’t want to struggle in front of Choso. How is he supposed to trust you as a guide when you can’t even give yourself a basic orgasm? A tentative touch to your labia interrupts these thoughts, appreciating its shapes and feeling your wetness.

You whimper when his curiosity leads him to tracing your hole—not penetrating, only running the tip of his finger through the rim. He looks at you in question before he slowly breeches you, amazed by the sight and sensation of you parting for him.

It isn’t until you shift your hips that he grazes your g-spot, and your pussy squeezes his fingers so hard he briefly wonders if he hurt you. Uncertainty fades away as he caresses the rough area, his excitement growing as you move against his hand with a moan. It’s wet and warm, and the thought of it surrounding his cock makes him bite back a sound.

“Choso, you’re doing so good,” you pant, your voice tight with effort. “You can put another in.”

He does as told, mouth hanging when he sees your pussy stretch to accommodate his fingers. Over-eager, he relentlessly strokes your g-spot, his hips grinding against the bed. You cry out and match his intensity by circling your clit quickly. It doesn’t take long for your legs to tremble, and your body to stiffen. Whether by accident or knowing more than you thought he would, his fingers scissor, and you’re brought to the door of stinging pleasure.

“I can’t—I’m sorry,” your hand flies off instinctively, but he catches your wrist.

“Keep going,” he says lowly, and covers your fingers, moving them to glide over your clit beneath his own. “Let me help you.”

It’s an odd sensation: your familiar fingers moving in unfamiliar ways. He intensifies your touch, and resumes stroking your g-spot, shooting red-hot nerves through your body.

“Oh, my god, Choso! That’s too fucking—” you wail when you come, muscles cramping from the tension. Choso’s touches never falter as he leans over to connect your lips. It’s a sloppy, noisy kiss, and he moans almost as much as you. When you thrash to get away from him and tears well in your eyes, he removes his fingers and pulls you close. You pant in unison, and when you glance down, you see Choso had come in his pants. Only minutes pass before you feel his erection poking your ass.

“Can I do it again?”

Kenjaku is curious & tests you through it: what makes you so sensitive? Is it a certain technique? Would different stimuli make it more or less intense? He wants to explore until he knows the ins and outs of the issue to sate his curiosity.

♡ ♡ ♡

If you were told that you would spend your Saturday evening tied down with your leader’s head between your legs, you would assume they mistook you for someone with a much more colorful sex life. In hindsight, it shouldn’t have come as a shock with his unpredictable nature, but you assumed he had no interest in sex–or anything that isn’t about cursed energy, really.

Your legs strain against the straps as you come with a voiceless scream, mouth hanging open. Kenjaku only licks at your cunt twice more before removing himself, his face expressionless as he watches you twitch and convulse. With his thumb he absentmindedly wipes residue from his jaw, only to lick it from his finger and lips–the display makes your cheeks heat, even though he just ate your pussy. When he remains silent, you know he’s mulling over something, and prepare yourself for the incoming rant as your high dissipates. Without warning, he slides two fingers into you. He wastes no time locating your soft spot, caressing the area with deliberate strokes. His cool demeanor makes you feel foolish for making any noise, whether they come from your mouth or your pussy.

When he ate you out, he focused on your clit, his tongue flitting over your opening once or twice, but never penetrating. Now, it seems, he’s doing the exact opposite. Thick fingers part so widely it almost hurts, but so turned on it only makes you mewl, and raise your hips for more. This seems to herald your end, as he sets a rhythmic pace, pushing you further and further along. Like before, the pleasure skyrockets to a harsh burn, and you squirm in your restraints.

“Where does it hurt?” You stare at him stupidly, unsure what he said. It’s the first he’s spoken since strapping you down. “You said it gets over-sensitive before an orgasm. Where is that happening now?”

“My clit,” you manage. His fingering doesn’t slow even as you’re trying to speak.

“Is it internal or external?” A choke interrupts you before you can ask him to clarify, as another orgasm knocks the wind out of you. His fingers are still, but continue to pulse against your g-spot as your pussy clenches. Sensing your confusion, he continues.

“Does it happen in the head of your clitorus,” his thumb swipes over it cheekily, making you yelp. “Or is it internal?” He presses against your g-spot with an exaggerated force. Kenjaku’s voice is slow and condescending as he explains, as if you’re a child. You’re still trembling through your orgasm, too overwhelmed to think, let alone answer. Miffed by your silence, he pulls your nipple with his free hand.

“External! Fuck!”

“Interesting,” he says to himself, and continues to toy with your nipple until your eyes water. Two fingers straddle your clit, not touching, and rub the entire area in slow circles. A loud gasp tears from deep in your lungs, your body unsure what to do with this development.

“No, you can’t be serious,” your voice warbles when a pinch to your clit chastises you. “Fuck, fuck–no!” You jerk against the restraints, and your hips try to run away from his touch. “Stop!”

“Tell me, was it worse the second time, or the same?” A muted whimper is your only reply. “Oh, don’t be like that. You’re fine. I have more methods to try, after all.”

Sukuna is sadistic & forces you through it: normally he doesn’t care if you cum, but the thought that it’s too much and overwhelms you very much appeals to him.

♡ ♡ ♡

How your Lord became privy to such information you’ll never know for certain, but you have an inkling of how it happened. You were a simple servant, tasked with trivial duties like laundry and sweeping in the courtesan’s quarters. You had sequestered a bottle of liquor to be shared with those you consider friends, and the four of you drunkenly giggled as you shared your racy experiences.

Apparently, one of your ‘friends’ is a fucking narc, or just an idiot with loose lips and no sense. Because a handful of days later, you’re being summoned by Sukuna himself, and find yourself propped on his lap.

The tongue is waterlike, curling and rolling between your thighs, leaving thick saliva in its wake. It doesn’t take long for your pussy to leak and for pathetic sounds to spill. Does he prefer silence? You fist your robes, unsure if you’re allowed to even touch Sukuna; you have no clue how you’re supposed to behave.

“I’m going to kill the fool that sent you to the servant’s quarters,” he says. One of your breasts stills from your robe, and he is quick to palm it with his massive hand, and more terrifyingly, pull your nipple. His other hand squeezes your pliant thigh, and another molds against your hip, thumb digging into your lower belly–clearly appreciating how soft you are.

Barely, you resist rolling your hips in tandem with his licking. Despite it all, the large slippery tongue feels unlike anything you’ve felt before. The roll of his tongue is passionate enough that it swipes at your ass as well, making you gasp and clench every time. The pleasant sensations bleed into discomfort as you get close–what you’ve feared ever since you came into his throne room–and you stiffen as you try to bear through it.

His tongue never stops its languid stroking, and despite your best effort, you thrash and twist in his hold, trying to escape the burn. A plea for him to stop bubbles at your lips. You have no choice but to take it, and after a few moments of unbearable rubbing on your clit, you sob as an orgasm is ripped from you. The tongue never stops. It laps wildly, trying to drink everything your body offers. Tears spill from your eyes, as the prickling in your clit spreads.

“That was fast,” he muses, lazily eyeing your quivering body. “I’ve never seen a whore cry because she got her cunt licked.” His tongue flicks your clit sharply, and he chuckles when you nearly topple over. “Sensitive?”

“Yes, my lord.” You tremble all over; the weight of his attention is enough to terrify.

“Good.” Suddenly, he lifts and positions you over his cock—the one furthest from his pelvis. Your heart drops to your ass. It’s humongous, surely, it will kill you! You don’t have time to fear, because he presses you down immediately. It pushes against your entrance for several moments, unable to slide in despite how lubricated you are with his saliva and your juices, but eventually, your hole succumbs to the pressure from Sukuna’s hold and it breeches you violently. The size of his cock knocks the wind out of you, and its twin grazes the your pussy. Your clit feels like it’s on fire.

“Cry for me, whore,” he lifts you up and drops you back down, the slap and your yelp echo through the throne room. “It’s all you’re good for.”

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ameliora-j · 3 months

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tbh id let Carisi (Peter) bury his dick so deep in which ever hole of mine he chooses, no regrets. id let him pound me so hard all day every day til i cant walk. i know he’d take care of me after. he just seems to be that kind of guy to make you cum again and again and again, your pussy and clit all swollen but he wont stop even if youre begging him too because he gets a kick out of the way you pulsate and shake and twitch. and lets be real the only man to ever make you squirt is him 🔥

GOD BLESS U BITCH CUS IM CREAMING SO HARD RN !!!!!!

he likes the way you cry when he’s hurting your pussy with pleasure ꃋ his cock buried deep in your gummy walls, repeatedly pressing against your gspot as tears of pained pleasure cascade down your cheeks. he licks them away, chuckling meanly as he plays with your swollen little clit. “again” he growls lowly in your ear.

and you know he wants you to cum again, but you’ve already done so at least seven times, you don’t know you’ve lost count. sonny’s on orgasm number three and you’re wondering how the hell he has so much stamina as your body begins to curl in on itself. your cunt is pulsing and clenching around him so nicely that he’s letting out the prettiest moans as he fucks you harder. “wanna see it all, pretty slut” he whispers.

and you’re not sure what he means until the band snaps and your orgasm is spraying from your abused cunt like a fountain. your breath gets stuck in your throat as you choke over a loud moan. he rubs your clit faster to make it spray even more than it already had, soaking both your bodies in your massive amount of squirt as he pumps your cunt full of his cum. “y’make the prettiest messes, baby” he mumbles as he kisses you.

#nani’s angels 👼🏽#fanmail 💌#— nani fantasizes ☽#nsfw.nani #sonny carisi #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi x you #sonny carisi x yn #sonny carisi x y/n #sonny carisi fic #sonny carisi fanfic #sonny carisi drabble #sonny carisi smut #sonny carisi blurb #sonny carisi imagine

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killakirby · 1 year

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✈️ thinking about lo'ak hours : open

you CANNOT tell me lo’ak would not be the bf who acts like an absolute FOOL !!! like you know those tiktoks where the girlfriend (filming) is leaving and doesn’t respond with “i love you too” when their boyfriend says “i love you” and they gradually start screaming i love you at the top of their lungs IN FUCKINF PUBLIC like….that has supreme lo’ak energy™, see excerpt below <3

you and lo’ak are swimming around exploring the ocean and he signs to you a quick, “oh i promised my dad i’d come back early so he could teach me how to use a gun !!” with an excited grin on his face. you nod understandably, a grin of your own appearing at his eagerness, and the two of you start heading back to shore. when you emerge from the water, your ears are clogged with sea water so you struggle a bit to hear lo’ak’s “i love you” as he’s turning to head to his family’s marui. you nod absentmindedly at the sound of his voice, flashing him a beaming smile (cute lil dimples and all if you have them) and start heading off on your own, greeting the children splashing in the shallows. you notice as you’re walking that everybody is beginning to stare at you, and they’re starting to laugh and point, and you are like “yoooo wtf do i look crazy rn???” you turn your head to the side and gently pat the water out of your ears, and when you turn upright you hear lo’ak’s loud ass yelling at unimaginable decibels “OEL NGATI KAMEIE !!!!!”

LMAOOOO you come to an automatic halt, your body cringing (at the force of his love for you obviously 🙄), hand covering your eyes in disbelief at this man, and you turn around and start motioning for him to cut it out, but this kid continues to scream even LOUDER! you tilt your head up looking at the sky and sigh as if you're asking eywa why she made you fall in love with this absolute skxawng of a na’vi. you give up and embarrassingly run back over to him, in front of the whole clan (i am cringing so hard), and cover his mouth, standing on your tippy toes to whisper in his ear, “i love you too,” blushing indigo, giggling and all as you rock back to quickly kiss him on the cheek and then you make a quick escape away from everyone’s amusement.

lo’ak who now has literal hearts for eyes as he watches you run to your friends and they all start teasing you, tsireya vigorously thumbs-upping at lo’ak, and you slap her on the shoulder for encouraging his boldness. bro only sees this as an absolute win, he’s established his outlasting love for you practically in front of everyone, so…anyone who tries to steal him from you is pretty much asking to meet death :D

jake who was contently just watching this play out from a distance, and when lo’ak turns to find him, all he does is slowly nod at him proud that the rizz is genetic 😏

i hope you all enjoyed this! i’m going to try releasing smaller drabbles like this in between my bigger works. i got two requests for sure that i’m writing and releasing soon…. so slide me some more if you want to see more things like this 😚

much love, <3 kirby !!!

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writteninscarlet · 3 months

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What If? ...Wanda told you she loved you? (accepting) ;; @mastcrmarksman

Clinton Francis Barton would make a lot of Top 10 lists for Wanda. For some, even Top 5.

Most annoying, worst jokes, who’d eaten the most pizza slices/doughnuts/etc from the floor…

He was also up there as a main contender for her favourite Avenger. And that wasn’t something she would be embarrassed to admit. Because quite frankly, Clint was AMAZING. He was quick-witted and though his jokes were badly timed (hilariously badly timed ha ha) and some simply were ‘dad jokes’ he was one of the few that could get her to laugh in a serious situation. Or when her depression hit hard. He was incredibly smart and talented. How he was able to make those trick arrows was beyond her. They required precision and an intimate knowledge, and credit where credit was due. And he kept up incredibly well for an archer amongst witches and Gods. He had the heart of a hero - and the bruises and x-ray scans of a stuntman. He was INCREDIBLE. He didn’t judge her - not for the simple things like being vegetarian or not drinking alcohol recently, or the bigger things and there were a LOT of big mistakes and bad choices in her past.

Clint had been there with her from her not-so-humble beginnings as an Avenger. She had taken her lead from Steve, of course. Steve was good and strong. He was a leader with a leaders confidence and soft charm. A gentleman! And Wanda had fallen for those charms and had often rushed to his defence or agreed with his plans. At the same time, Steve often seemed miles away from her.

He was just TOO good. His nature and his morals… he had his moments of course, but things seemed so black and white to him. Wanda always felt like she had to continually run to catch up with him. Steve had brought her into the fold and made her feel welcome, like family. But there was a gap.

Clint was good, too. But with Clint there came understanding and acceptance. The fact he could annoy her was actually amazing. They just clicked. She enjoyed teasing him in return, and didn’t feel abashed or ashamed about telling him off or a few prank hexes. Sometimes, because of her past and coming from the Brotherhood, she felt she had to hide her gifts or be ‘saintly’ all the time. To remain calm and without anger. Just in case it set someone off or frightened her. But the acceptance with Clint allowed her to be herself. And she loved that. The Scarlet Witch was and always would be part of her. But she felt like she was also just Wanda when around him.

The course of heroic adventures never did run easy or true.

Her actions, spurned on by grief and anger and an instability because of her powers, had massive consequences. Irreparable consequences. Her actions were a mistake and in her right mind not something she would have done - but she was still in her mind and she had made choices. Bad ones.

The pain she’d caused those around her was a scar and weight that wasn’t likely to ever go away. What she had done—- what had happened with Clint— Some may have called it a crazed and she supposed it was somewhat accurate, but she was still Wanda throughout and she’d hurt him, badly. (ended him, erased him, need she go on).

Bad choices simply to plague them. She was a chaos witch but Clint didn’t seem to need magic to lead a chaotic life (and how much was it damage she had caused?)

Past mistakes and choices were never forgotten, but neither were last feelings.

And Clint Barton was HOME.

Her mind had been shattered over and over, her life played with by others - her mind sometimes not even seeming like her own. She was regretful and remorseful and would have done anything to change events, but that was just it. The past was the past. And Wanda had learnt that some things were out of her control.

Therapy was a hard decision to make. It was admitting that there was a problem and that she was weak. But talking did seem to help. The medication helped. But she was off that now. And there were a lot of people out there who didn’t know she’d been in therapy or if they did, didn’t know she’d been on medication. She’d told Clint of course, later down the line whilst on the meds. And she’d told him about her therapists, including the one that turned out to be a criminal trying to take advantage. The therapy helped.

What helped more was HOME. A tentative and easy friendship, and then a stronger connection that they were building between them again. Wanda was glad and relieved to have Clint back in her life. There was no hiding any of her past with him for he had been there for nearly all of it. He knew her weaknesses and her guilt and her shame. He wasn’t a therapist and she had no intention of dumping her issues on him, it wasn’t fair. Not after what she’d done and because he had troubles of his own.

But it was easy to share aspects of her life and new troubles with him. And when he needed to open up, she would listen for him. He was the reason she’d ever played the game Yahtzee, the reason she’d learnt sign language, and a really big reason why she’d been with the Avengers for so long. So when Clint had an issue, Wanda wouldn’t hesitate to reach out and offer help.

It was easy to meet up for coffee or food or shopping or any activity together. So easy to pop around and see him. So easy to hug him and tease him. They had seen one another at some of their absolute lowest points, and Wanda accepted Clint for who he was and who he was trying to be. And she loved everything that he was, flaws and all. He wasn’t perfect like Steve always tried to be. He hid some parts of him but wasn’t afraid of being himself either. No big persona to hide behind around her.

When she had news or it had simply been a while, Wanda knew she could count on Clint. Quick phone call, quick message, and they’d work something out to meet. They had a few decent diners to go to now. And if he had trouble or simply wanted to speak, then Wanda would be there for him. It worked both ways.

He was comfortable to be around, he was easy to talk to, he could make her laugh and relaxed. He could completely stress her out and irritate her, too. When something funny happened or she had gossip, she thought of telling Clint. When she was sad or wanted to feel more energetic, she thought of Clint. She was happy and at home around him. And if that wasn’t love, she didn’t know what was.

Which… she maybe didn’t know. There was a lot of different ways for people to love one another. Wanda wasn’t sure she really understood love, but she accepted her feelings for what they were.

These thoughts came fairly quickly to her as she listened to Clint describe his latest anecdote, painting the scene of his heroic actions - all, probably, distractions to hide the bruise on his cheek which she could and would heal if asked. But only with consent. Of course.

She scrunched up her nose, slightly amused smile curling up one corner of her lips before taking a sip of her hot tea. Almost finished. And his coffee probably done, too. They’d been talking for some time, after all. The snacks were long gone.

It was simply the two of them in her shop. The Emporium did okay business. She sold a variety of magical objects that only those with knowledge could use, but also things available to everyone. Her main trade was the Last Door of course, so an empty shop didn’t completely bother her (though it might be nice to do good business one day). Sitting comfortably at the table with him, she’d let him go through his anecdotes - jumping in with a question or two, as well as praise but teasing and sincere. And a few scoffs as well. Emphasis some points, that was all. She completely and totally believed he’d done all those stunts. Sure.

With her cup empty, she stood to get more hot drinks but paused as she passed him.

Some feelings deserved to be shared and known. There was no expectation for them to be returned, but some things weren’t meant to be kept inside. Stood by Clint’s side, she placed a hand on his shoulder before leaning in to place a soft, warm kiss to his forehead.

“I love you, Clint,” she said, softly and sweetly. Truth warmth in her tone. And she meant those words. There was a lot of ways to love someone, and Wanda probably loved Clint in nearly all of those ways. There would be times she’d be hard pressed to think of someone more important to her. Clint was wild and impulsive, he could be arrogant and sometimes self loathing. But Clint always tried his best and Wanda could see and appreciate that. Clint Barton was a hero in just as many senses of the word as the way she loved him. And he deserved to know that she cared. Straightening up, those words were perhaps clear on her face and in her smile. And if she needed to, she’d repeat them to make sure he heard. He didn’t need to say anything back, he just needed to hear them. “I love you, and I thought I’d just make sure you knew that.”

#hahahaha guess who had the day off work and so decided to have avengers feels?#does this make sense? I don’t even know!#but Wanda is here to have Clint in her life #there is no escape #does this count as a drabble? idek #ᗢ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ once and always a witch ; ic #mastcrmarksman

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kaveehs · 2 years

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thinking about college!iwaizumi being absolutely oblivious to the fact that you have a crush on him. he’s very popular around campus, all types of people confessing to him, but he never thought his cute lil study buddy was crushing hard on him. and when you FINALLY tell him he’s shocked but he’s so ready to go on a date, as if he’d been waiting for you to confess before he did 😭

#☽ rena’s drabble #maybe i should write a fic about this #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu #iwaizumi imagine #iwaizumi drabble #i’m so intrigued #college!iwaizumi

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musaeon · 2 months

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How long has it been since he’s made his way out here?

Truthfully he should be making more visits out here if he can, but it’s quite the distance from his current home; not quite an excuse but also not a lie either. A lot has happened in the years since he last visited, but he’s never forgotten the importance of the day, no matter how long it’s been since.

The warm sunlight and gentle breeze, and the sight of the two of them on the roof, crimson eyes meeting his own one last time…

It’s impossible to forget about, Minato thinks.

Yet he did forget, but then he remembered. They all remembered. And for better or worse, they were able to be there in those last moments, regardless of how short it might have been.

And since then, since learning the truth, he’s done what he can to not forget the day, what they fought for (what some of them are still fighting for, himself included) and live, just live the best that he’s able to.

He’s long since stopped caring about the length of his hair, but he’s stopped hiding behind his bangs, either growing them out or keeping them clipped off to the side. The latter of which he’s done for today, familiar hair clips that he’s kept around despite the years it’s been since he first got them.

…He wonders if she’ll notice them, if she can.

-.-.-.-.-.-

It’s been a while since she’s made the journey out this way.

Minako knows that it’s not really an excuse to say she’s been busy and other things have gotten in the way, but it’s not like she’s lying when she says it. But in that time, she’s never once let the importance of the date slip her mind. Even if she hasn’t been able to come out here as much as she would like to, it doesn’t mean she hasn’t done anything for the day.

It’s disrespectful to let the day pass without doing anything. To do that would be disrespecting him, and everything they fought for.

(And yet, they still fight for the same thing. It’s just changed how they do it in some cases, but in other cases things still stay the same. Their powers still help them even now.)

She’s been doing what she can, living as best as she can. Because while not every day is easy, it’s still a gift to be able to do it, to continue to grow, change and live.

Her hair’s been grown out for years, falling past her shoulders in slight waves. It’s something she’s finally been able to embrace after all this time, as if she’s been able to claim back parts of her identity lost over the years.

…She wonders if he’ll be proud of her.

—-

The burden of messiah was never a burden he wanted her to bear.

And yet, she’s the one that took upon that burden. She chose to die so that everyone could live. So that he and their friends could live on, because she had found the answer to life’s greatest question.

Has he found that answer yet himself? He’s… not sure.

Sure, Minato has been living more than he has in years; something only awakened after everything that happened that fateful year. But does he know that answer yet? No, he’s not sure he can say it with certainty.

Because living is hard. No two days are the same; some are easier to get through, some are harder but they are all precious despite the struggles.

For a long time he didn’t care if he would die. It wasn’t something that fazed him; death didn’t scare him. But that fateful year had changed him, made him start to live and realize that there was so much more to life that he wouldn’t experience if he died.

And… he’s grateful. Despite how angry he had been until he learned the truth, he’s grateful that he’s been able to live. Even if he would’ve rather had her still here with him, with them, he’s come to terms with it more or else.

…It still doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish for it to happen, one day. For them to meet again.

-.-.-.-.-

She’s always been the one to protect him, to protect both of them. It’s what she did. But he was the one that decided to protect them, to protect all of them.

Is Minako angry at him for doing that? No, not anymore, but she had been at the time. Her grief had been a multitude of emotions, anger among them.

If he’s found the answer to life’s greatest question, then she couldn’t be happier for him. It’s still taking her time to find her answer to that as well.

Each day, she thinks she’s getting closer to having an answer for it. It’s not easy (living has never been easy, she thinks) but it’s been much more manageable than it had been all those years ago.

There’s a lot of joy to be found just by living, even if the hardships and struggles are most of what they mention. It doesn’t mean that there’s nothing to live for; you can be selfish and live for just yourself, even if you don’t have a good reason for it.

(Or, if you just want to protect someone. She thinks about a certain person that had said as much to her, after that fateful day.)

And she feels the same way. She wants to protect more than just someone, her friends and everyone precious to her. She wants to protect this world that he had chosen to save, because it’s precious to everyone.

…And maybe someday, he’ll be able to see this world for himself. She can only hope that wish will come true.

—

The train comes to a stop, and they step out, heading to their destination.

It might have been a long time since they’ve come out this way, but it’s still a path they know by heart. No matter how much time has passed and will since then, it’s not something either of them are likely to forget for a long time.

The wind feels so nice today. It’s a nice day, the gentle sunlight shining down on them.

White chrysanthemums and lilies, irises as well and a few stems of plum blossoms as well wrapped in a simple bouquet, chosen with great care, and held close to his chest as he walks along the path to the grave. / Carnations and camellias, with a few bluebells put there for color (she can’t help it, blue has always been his color even without hair color there to remind them all of it) sit in the pot she cradles in her arms carefully as she makes her way to the grave.

He places the bouquet down, kneeling down in front of it. / She places the pot of flowers down, gently lowering herself onto her knees.

A simple grave marked by their name.

“I’m back”

“...Brother.” / “Sister.”

#☽ [ you gotta write your own manuals to life // drabbles (minato) ]#☾ [ write me an endless song // drabbles (minako) ]#( happy promised day take this thing i've been wanting to do for over a month )#long post //#( proof that i don't know how to write short is that tag )

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ruinakete · 3 months

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HC + names

WORD HEADCANONS & DRABBLE ・ accepting! ( word count challenge beneath the readmore; 500! content warnings; mentions / implications of slight engage spoilers; implied murder! )

names, just like personal dates, do not matter in her eyes. not exactly. to her, it is not the name itself, it is how you wear it; the journey it took to earn it.

after all, she had not been crowned the full name, zephia dahut kurosawa, upon birth. her family surname had been lost to the ages, long before they had fallen to her magic. where her mother bore the surname of the flower humans preferred to gift her, zephia bore the surname of a tragic legend, horribly translated within the waves of the tale.

and she had been the one to first utter the syllables of the name, wrenching it from the crinkled papers of an old storybook until it fit perfectly into the mouths of the tribe. years later, within the ruins of a human village, she tore the second surname from the murky waters at the bottom of the mountain and presented it before sombron. and he accepted the dirty, sullied name just as he had accepted her; dirty and sullied and at his command.

however, the names themselves did not matter. no, they were no more a trophy than they were hers.

HUMANS CALLED IT THE FEAST OF THE ANTHURIAMS. a name weighed down by what the mortal mind perceived as the war between divinity and the fallen. a name this mage dragon first scoffed at upon first hearing of it, pointed helix twitching when the abbot fell into a silent stride beside her. there was irony in the event━━━or the holiday many recognized it as━━━so, it tempted the laughter in her throat. “as long as they understand the weight of to-day, then all is well, right?” she had chosen to offer, decades earlier, when the idea first sprung at the feet of the Lord, “followers will be sacrificed or maimed, yes, but the lasting impact could overcome the cost. the name━━━” or, had she managed to utter all of the suggestions before her name slipped through the Lord’s lips, thus reminding her of her worth in each letter? but this mage dragon had foretold the worth of delirious faith correctly: blood and innards were strewn across the dark sand of the Altar, an awful nostalgia to the gore-soaked snow and dirt centuries prior. and, here, beholding the eyes that once witnessed every child's last twitch, her gaze was narrowed on the only figure visible through the skittering cloud of kicked-up dust. before the church's hundreds of eyes, this boy twitched and heaved and stood as if he had been born the other day, but there was a glory to every ragged breath. an untamed hunger the child within her once swallowed. the abbot sighed beside her, but she interrupted the beginnings of any voice with her own, "who is he?" "hm, that is griss. he joined a..." but her ears had already deemed it worthless; it had not been the answer she hoped for. later, she had demanded the same from the boy himself, immediately once the clergy saw to it that the Eyes of God had been drained from the majority of his system. "who are you?" was what she pried for; and a follower, was what he gave willingly, still wide-eyed and trembling. though the tremors could not be fear. no, not if his lips continued to twitch into what she hoped to be an exhausted grin. her head lolled to match his, sangria eyes narrowed to a scornful slant until she deemed his reaction to such judgment enough. fangs bared in her smile, consideration melded into a figurehead's generosity; mage dragon had not hesitated to lean closer, raising a clawed hand to cup his cheek as she crooned, "hm-hm, how wonderful. how promising. again, boy. you are the Lord's follower before you are...?" griss, was the drawled name she heard. therefore, griss was the reward he'd receive. the mage dragon had not released him when she purred, "as i am the Lord's follower before i am zephia." a pause, as her gaze lowered to the blade at her hip, "come, griss. you will draw blood with me. then, a prayer before we leave the monastery, will suffice, yes?"

#saizov #engage spoilers #☽ ━━━━━━ ❝ she; the daughter known by her teeth ・【 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 】 .#☽ ━━━━━━ ❝ to appease the handmade goddess ・【 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 】 .#shout out to ree who let me chew on their hc @ the feast of the anthuriams!!!#obsessed w young griss and zephia... tbh the entire idea behind this holiday eats down so hard #ty ty for the ask!! possessed by demons.. the other asks have been queued :salute:#so v cheesed at this word.. esp since connecting her faceless parents to only the names she knows them as is v important to her memory #her entire thing is having to earn your place in a community so the same is most likely toward names and titles #and yeah all drabbles will try to be 500 since i want to try a silly little thing

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