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recapitulation · 2 years

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meal ideas!

low energy ("do not ask me to do any prep work at all, so help me god")

mozzerella cheese wrapped in pepperoni ("pizza tacos"!)

hummus and pretzels or naan (putting the naan in the microwave for like 10 seconds...heavenly)

canned chili (with shredded cheese and sour cream if you have it! boom done!)

instant miso soup (warm and lovely! put tofu in it for protein!)

cheese and cured meat, olives, canned fish, crackers, dried fruit, or whatever easy "charcuterie" type items you like

alternate bites of apple and spoonfulls of peanut butter (mixing honey or chocolate chips to the peanut butter is my favorite)

a "deconstructed sandwich": bites of lunch meat, pickles, cheese, cherry tomato, etc (I love roast beef and white cheddar for this)

yogurt and granola or fruit

put frozen potstickers + frozen edamame in the steamer/rice cooker, chill elsewhere with a timer set, then boom

tortilla chips + canned refried beans + cherry tomatoes + cilantro + jarred salsa con queso (or warm shredded cheese on top of the chips in the microwave for 30 seconds)

bagel + cream cheese + lox

microwave scrambled eggs (add things like green onion, soy sauce, or anything else you like!)

cottage cheese and fruit (mixed together or just on the side)

bowl of shredded rotisserie chicken + buffalo sauce + a bit of mayo + green onion (use a kitchen scissors to cut them right in!)

medium energy ("I'll boil water but don't ask me to chop shit")

boiled eggs and fresh veggies (put a little salt on top of the eggs!)

buttered noodles (my go-to nausea meal, it has never failed me. ideas of things to add: frozen peas, imitation crab, roasted garlic)

baked potato with toppings (I like cheese, bacon, broccoli, green onion, and sour cream)

quesadilla (add some canned beans, cilantro, or avocado!)

pot roast (requires a lot of time but not a lot of actual work. I love it with peas!)

cuban sandwich (bread, swiss, pickle, mustard, ham... my favorite thing to panini-ify by far)

pan-fried tofu with scallion sauce (this sauce goes well with everything and tofu is no exception)

pancakes or waffles! (I love mine with jam)

ham, pickle, and cream cheese roll-ups

fried eggs (with toast and lots of butter...so comforting)

fruit smoothie (bananas, frozen strawberries, yogurt...or whatever!)

I hate salad but could write essays on this copycat olive garden salad (throw it in a bowl! chopping required if you use onion)

spaghetti (controversial maybe but angel hair > spaghetti noodles)

pasta salad (olives broccoli fresh mozerella... those little mini pepperonis... yeah)

stir-fried thai garlic shrimp (I like using the mini frozen salad shrimps, it's easy! use jarred minced garlic to avoid chopping!)

tuna mayo onigiri

slow cooker ribs

buffalo chicken wrap (or any number of other wrap options! shred pre-cooked rotisserie chicken to make it easier)

if your local grocery store sells pre-cooked gyro strips, that can turn into an easy wrap with store-bought pita & tzatziki with tomatoes and onions!

couscous and chickpeas

tortellini + pasta sauce + spinach

high energy ("I don't mind chopping some things up!")

stuffed shells with spinach

chicken and roasted garlic (oh my god.....one of my all time favorites)

beef tacos (I like mine with cilantro and onion, and when I'm feeling especially high energy I love a tomatillo salsa)

chicken alfredo

tom kha gai (a thai soup and my absolute favorite! you just need access to galangal)

lasagna! (freezes well and then boom! low energy meal for later)

pad thai! (not as hard as you'd think, as long as you have access to tamarind paste!)

potstickers! (this is a lovely group activity if you want to cook with housemates!)

rice and beans

bang bang shrimp (ogughfhgfuh I love it. you can also do bang bang tofu!)

minestrone soup (so many nice veggies!)

fried rice (put whatever you have on hand in there! broccoli, peas, carrot, and beef is my favorite combo)

broccoli cheddar soup

spring rolls and peanut sauce

skewers (such as beef, onion, zucchini, bell pepper... you don't need a grill, oven works!)

roasted turkey with garlic parmesean asparagus

pork chop with mashed potatoes

panang curry

chicken gnocchi soup (use store bought gnocchi or make your own if you have a high energy day!)

bibimbap (super customizable depending on what veggies you like best)

butter chicken

plus! things that have helped me meal plan:

whenever you think of a meal you'd like to make, take 3 seconds to google search it, take a screenshot of the image results, and put it in a "food ideas" folder. instant visual menu!

the concept of "meal prepping" makes me recoil but I've learned that it can simply mean preparing shredded chicken, boiled eggs, or some other simple protein that you can customize throughout the week. shredded chicken can turn into wraps, salads, pasta dishes, etc... you don't have to meal prep yourself into the same meal all week!

when I have difficulty working up an appetite, I'll scroll through my favorite restaurant menus! there might be some foods I can't make at home, but many times they're very simple to recreate because the ingredients are literally listed!

#brought to you by: i see people complaining about coming up with meals for the week #and im like..this is my favorite thing to do........let me be your meal brainstormer #additionally brought to you by: eating something is better than nothing so some of these may not be complete textbook 'meals'#but sometimes you feel like shit and just need something! so!#also this energy scale is tailored to me personally so if some categorizations dont make sense to you thats bc its about me <3 #food #i might update this with dessert ideas too later. or just add to it in general

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birdiewriteslit · 4 months

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omg omg i would LOVVVEEE if like [reader] and luke were dating behind percy’s back cuz of how sassy he would be n stuff but after like a date or kiss from luke the reader would gush about it to either annabeth, grover, or clarisse and one of them tells percy by accident during a convo and then percy like goes up to reader and confronts the reader about it and like scolds the reader and give them a whole lecture about how luke isn’t the right guy then luke overhears and like joins in <333

i love this idea!!

luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

warnings: persassy (once again), fluff, mention of kissing, ignorance of the plot of the show for the sake of my happiness

nobody: me gaslighting myself into thinking i could fix luke:

You and your boyfriend had an agreement. Your relationship was private. It wasn’t necessarily a secret, but it was private.

This was a conclusion you came to before Percy arrived at camp, before you knew you had a brother. At first, you didn’t care much if he figured it out.

That was until you realized what a sassafras he was.

Percy was always sassing you about chores, about activities, and especially about camp boys.

You thought it was cute in the beginning, your little brother being protective over you, but then it became a real nuisance.

“Y/n, stay away from the Ares boys, I don’t like them.”

“Y/n, don’t date an Apollo guy, he’d write you some crappy poetry.”

“Y/n, for the love of gods, stay away from the Dionysus twins, I never want to have Mr. D as a relative.”

These were the types of things you would hear throughout the day as Percy got to know the other campers better.

You thought it better if you kept a low profile when you were around Luke, at least until Percy calmed down a little.

Most of the older campers knew about your relationship, but they were used to it and rarely talked about it.

“Having marriage problems?” Annabeth asked you one day during arts and crafts, where you were both about to give up on your ugly collaborative birdhouse.

“What? I’m not married,” you said, trying to fix a particularly garish looking bird.

She set her paintbrush down, officially proving she was over it. “Obviously. I mean Luke. I noticed you haven’t been around each other as much.”

You could tell she was a little worried. She wouldn’t be asking if she wasn’t. Annabeth had known you and Luke longer than any other campers, and she looked up to both of you. Plus, she always wanted to know about your experience with romance.

“It’s not what you think, Annabeth. We’re really fine,” you said. “In fact, just last night, he took me out on the dock.”

Your nightly meetups with Luke had always been a thing, but had become more frequent as of late.

“And?” Annabeth prompted.

“And, we hung out.” You were now furiously painting over the entire bird you failed to fix.

“You mean you made out,” she said, giving you a knowing look.

“Well, yeah, but I didn’t think you were interested in that part,” you said. “Now pick up that paintbrush, missy. I’m not doing this whole thing myself.”

Annabeth reluctantly dipped the brush in some blue paint, looking like she wanted more details about your date.

Private means private, you thought dismissively.

At campfire, you discovered that private didn’t mean private. You were sitting alone when Percy plopped down next to you. You frowned because you were saving that spot for Luke.

“Annabeth has just told me something very interesting,” he said, glaring at the spot where Luke stood, talking to one of his brothers.

“What would that be, Perce?” you said absentmindedly.

“Apparently Luke was macking on you last night.” He made a sound to imitate vomiting.

You grimaced. “Please never say that word again.”

“So? Is it true or not true?”

You sighed. No point in denying it now. “It’s true.”

Percy somehow managed to look even more disgusted. “Ew, why him?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, gee, I don’t know, maybe because I’ve known him for years, he’s kind, strong, and handsome. Wouldn’t you think that had something to do with it?”

“Oh, gods, forget I even asked,” Percy said, retching. “I just think you could do better. Look at all of these lovely candidates. Apollo guys are poets.”

“I thought that was too cringe for you.”

He ignored you and went on, “A Hephaestus guy could forge you some nice jewelry, and Athena guys are smart. You deserve a smart guy. Not Luke, no, he doesn’t have any good qualities like that.”

You noticed a figure approaching you over Percy’s shoulder, and you tried your best to hide the amused smile threatening to break across your face as Luke came to a stop behind him, waiting for the right moment to interrupt.

“All in all, Y/n, I think Luke’s a pretty bad guy for you. You should really reconsider.”

“Oh, I’m a bad guy, am I?” Luke finally spoke up, smirking as Percy slowly turned around to see him peering down at him.

“Not like a bad guy- just, you know, not right for my sister,” Percy said, his confidence leaving him.

“What makes me not right for her?” Luke asked, clearly loving the reaction he was getting.

“I- uh- you know,” Percy stammered.

“Oh, knock it off, Luke. Leave the poor kid alone,” you said, failing to hide your laughter.

“That sound is music to my ears,” Luke said seriously. Jeez, he was really laying it on thick.

Percy’s face returned to the look of disgust. “I’ll be leaving now,” he excused himself, hurrying off to where Grover and Annabeth were sitting on the other side of the fire. You could still see him glaring at Luke as he sat down next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

You leaned into him, relishing in the combined warmth of the fire and his body heat. “What do you think? Am I getting sassed out tomorrow?” Luke asked, looking down at you.

“No, he looked pretty grossed out. I’m hoping he just avoids the topic altogether,” you said, trailing your fingers over the fabric of his shirt.

“We both know that’s not going to happen,” he concluded, smiling as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

#birdiewriteslit #birdiewritesfics #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #daughter of poseidon #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo #pjo tv show #pjo series #persassy

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rene-darling · 1 month

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Innocent scaramouce first time with dom fem reader?

Innocent little kabukimono

...yandere reader...red flag reader!...toxic relationships please do not imitate irl...I think.. I took way too much creative liberty with this..but-...im tired of seeing innocent readers x corrupted men. We need so corrupted yandere-ish readers!...

...kabukimono x yandereish reader...

Innocent little kabukimono who knows nothing of real life, and is just oh so naive. And you, this corrupted person who goes around doing whatever they please, leading on a man and then ditching him for good, a cruel harbinger who revels in the suffering of the innocent, and oh my is he innocent.

Kabukimono who doesn't know right from wrong, he doesn't even have life's most basic skills. The perfect man for you to corrupt.

Kabukimono who doesn't know that kisses are only meant to be shared by lovers and to be done in private, so you might be in the middle of talking to another harbinger when he approaches you and casually leaves a kiss on your lips.

The other harbinger and your underlings are left in a state of shock. He kissed you And he still has his head?? Kabukimono notices their weird stares and questions them "Hm? Do you not know? This is something friends do with each other!" he informs them proudly. He's your dearest friend.

Dear little kabukimono who gets scared when you come home drenched in blood, but you just smile at him and open your arms. He knows he can't deny you, you told him that denying your friend's hug is very rude!

So he hugs your bloody form, shivering a bit. You're so cold, like a corpse. It's okay. You reassure him, that you were just getting rid of some bad guys. Some real baddies who harm the innocent. This reassures him, wow, you're so cool! You help people by getting rid of bad guys right? Wow!

Innocent kabukimono who admires you so much. You're the coolest person out there, and he trusts you.

Pure little kabukimono who tries making you some yummy food, only to fail since for some reason it always turns out to sour, too hot, or just burnt. It was like someone was messing with him and doing it on purpose.

And when he tells you that he's messed up yet again and sees how your face falls, he can't deal with it. He's so dumb, so stupid, he can't help it! He can't do anything without you. So he starts crying, soft little hiccups turn into full-on sobs as globs of tears fall from his eyes.

Who hugs you and apologizes over and over, he's sorry he's such a dummy! He'll learn! He'll be more useful to you, he doesn't know where the dish went wrong! Please don't abandon him, he's sorry for being useless!

And it brings him so much comfort when you hug him back, holding his tiny waist as you almost feel bad for purposefully messing up his dish, not that you'll actually apologize and tell him.

When you're sitting on the couch and you pull him onto your lap, it startles him. He shifts around a bit uncomfortably, but it's fine, he'll manage. You tell him that this is what friends do! And since you both are such close friends he doesn't complain when you pull him into your lap, even in front of other people

Eventually, he gets used to it, when you assure him that, this is what friends do- and you're his dearest friend aren't you?

He's used to it. He's trained for it. He could simply be doing some work around the house but the second you pat your lap he drops whatever he's doing, crawling onto your lap like a cat.

He doesn't know any better, so while you're in important meetings with the harbingers he'll simply crawl onto your lap like it's his own personal bed. The other harbingers always stutter in their next words- they just never seem to get used to your little boytoy

Some of the harbingers find it rather amusing, questioning why you've kept him around this long. They've never seen you with one of your boy toys after the first 3 weeks. You simply shrug, perhaps it's his innocence, his naivety to the world..and people, around him. Whatever it is, he proves to be entertaining. Which is why you just can't get rid of him yet.

Cute little kabukimono who ignores any red flags. You following him around whenever you have some free time, or sending one of your henchmen after him whenever you aren't available. What do you mean that's weird? No- you just care for your friend, he's your dearest friend after all! You just wanna make sure nothing bad happens!

Innocent kabukimono who you've quickly learned has no idea of what intimacy is. He doesn't know the first thing about- love making.

Kabukimono who sits on your lap like another day, resting his head back onto your shoulder, you can hear his quiet breaths and whispers as he mumbles and rambles about his day thinking you were listening. You on the other hand were occupied by your own deranged thoughts, ...it's been long enough..hasn't it? You're sure he can handle you- fondling him further..right? You mean he should. You've done so much for him, and he can barely even cook a proper meal for you.

Biting down harshly on his neck while he was leaning it back on your shoulder eliciting gasps and whines from him. He tries grabbing your head, trying to push you away. It hurts! But you're too strong. So he sits there helpless tugging at your hair softly as he lets out little moans as you suck on his neck. He feels heat pool in between his legs... it's so weird..he doesn't like it.

Later that day he stares at himself in the mirror. Examining the big red purple-ish mark you left. Afterward, he questions you about it. Huffing as he asks the reason behind this strange good feeling mark you've left.

You reassure him, it's simply because he's your dearest friend. And you just want people to know that he's yours, he belongs to you. And no one else.

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pursuitseternal · 1 month

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“Knowledge is a dangerous weapon:” Bookworm!Tav, Vampiric Spawn Powers, and Breeding—“Bites” Update 📚

Astarion x F!Reader | E | 4.6K of banter and breeding

Based on an anonymous prompt

(HBD @lipstickghoulie )

Summary: You have always loved your books and a challenge, when your Vampire Rogue learns his starvation has kept him from his full powers, you take him up on his challenge to teach him the skills that are his due. As you draw closer together, he finds that one bit of information you have failed to teach him… how to make a dhampire

CW: light mocking of Astarion’s ditziness, Spawn Spidercrawl, catching powers and feelings, flirty touching, creepy silent vampire moves, Breeding talk, no babies just breeding, Mating Press™️

Ao3 link | Series link | Masterlist

📚✨📚✨📚✨📚✨📚✨📚✨📚✨📚✨📚

You always knew he was… dumb. Thick headed. Unobservant.

Okay, at times the comments from his thick, rosy lips were just plain stupid. “That lever… must do something…” That was a wonderful moment, one that earned him your eyes rolling so far back in your skull they hurt. “We have some words and some… circles…. Wonder what they do….” Another example of his unparalleled intelligence.

Not to mention the countless times he failed to remember any of the major gods and their shrines as you passed through crypts and defiled chapels.

For as handsome as he was, for as sultry and seductive as you found him, he was… smoothed-brained. But as your journey forced you closer together, you couldn’t help but think some of it may be merely pretense, he was a magistrate after all. He was abused and tortured for centuries, surely that does things to one’s mind. And he was always reading. Every day, every night at camp, his beautiful aquiline nose stuck in a book, crimson eyes devouring the words at a breakneck speed.

One to even rival your own thirst for knowledge.

Maybe it was that you allowed the poor Spawn a chance to drink living, thinking blood for once. Your own. Maybe that was what began to take his little, stupid moments and turn them into something endearing.

Not that he was gracious when you corrected his ignorance. Every time, he gave that adorable, grumpy harumph and then defended his comments, or… since he started feeding from you, he’d just look at your neck still freshly marked and lick his lips. That really shut you up. Set you on fire.

But it wasn’t until you needed him to reach that last little chest up on the crumbling ledge inside some dank cavern that you realized his ignorance wasn’t wholly pretend.

Astarion, vampire spawn, didn’t know just what he should be capable of. He looked positively befuddled when you told him to just climb the brick wall. His sass had been sharp, “I’m not some spider, darling.”

“But you can spider climb, you dolt,” you had laughed imitating his tone, trying to call his bluff on skills he should have, at least according to what you had read in your book. A Spawn should scale such a wall with immense ease.

He just narrowed his crimson eyes at you, a snarl on his lips as he shook his head. “I have never performed such an act, darling, nor have any of my brothers and sisters, those of us Cazador kept for his bidding. Better check your precious facts in your precious tomes before you throw your assumptions on my prowess… dear.”

You still shiver at that night. Back at camp. When you ignored the way he bristled as you approached him in front of his tent. He had sneered at you, readying his next acerbic quip for you… Until you sat so close beside him, settling the heavy book in his lap. Leaning in, you point to the page. Traits and Strengths of the Vampiric Spawn.

You felt him cease breathing, his left hand clutching at the edge of the book growing even whiter. “Astarion,” you breathed. Leaning in more, you looked into his eyes, his gaze scanning the words so quickly on the aged vellum. And then he shoved you by your cheek out of his sightline. He needed to finish this.

“Why, I should be positively remarkable, assuming your book is correct,” he sighed, as if he saw a vision, a dream fulfilled. One where he was powerful.

You nodded as his crimson eyes flashed at you, wide with wonder. “You mentioned Cazador never let you feed enough, and not from thinking creatures.” He nodded, skeptical even as his eyes fixated on your lips. “Well, what you did not know was that denying you a sufficient diet meant also restricting you from your full powers, even as a Spawn, Astarion. You should be able to climb up walls and ceilings, move swifter, lift boulders too much for even Karlach to manage. You should be able to heal almost instantaneously, without potion or feeding.”

“And now?” he replied, that little tremor of hope in his voice unmistakable as his hand traced over the page of your book.

“Well, it’s a difficult deduction, since you have our unwelcome illithid parasite. But now that you are feeding regularly, even from thinking creatures, you should find the effects more than just making you feel… happy,” you rambled on. Even as you kept talking, his eyes glued their gaze to your neck, your lips. If you weren’t mistaken, they even dipped down the v-shaped cut of your tunic.

“So… the more I drink from thinking creatures, the stronger and more powerful I will be?” he murmured, a slight grit in his throat as his eyes definitely darted down your bosom now.

“Y-yes,” you rejoined, sliding back just a touch.

And he slid that touch closer, and then some.

“You’ll help me, won’t you, darling? You’ll help me learn these skills? Give me all I require to access my full potential….” His eyes looked wet, the ruby irises glowing in the flickering firelight. “Please?” he adds with that smirk and that single arching brow of his made you stomach flutter and heart thump so hard in your chest.

“I…” you started, but he only seemed to lean ever closer.

“You know, when I was a Magistrate, back in the City, I would have craved someone with intelligence like yours. We would have been rivals, colleagues…” his eyes dip once more shamelessly up and down your seated body. “Perhaps lovers even,” he breathed. “I always surrounded myself with those of highest intellect, darling. Intelligence is so… undervalued by many, and knowledge is a dangerous weapon, but I see you, my darling. Won’t you please come to my aid now?”

“We… we can try,” you had whispered, barely able to the let the words from your lips with how you seemed to seize under the intensity of his stare.

“Wonderful,” he purred, catching your cheek, your chin in his cool palm. “I just hope we don’t have to wait too long…”

You squirmed as his thumb began to brush beneath your lip.

“…to put my new strengths to the test I mean, of course.” He smirked that little bit more twistedly. More seductively. And you knew he heard your heart beating in your artery, your blood rushing under his touch in your veins to pool lower. It was his nature, and you knew more of it than he did.

“Of course…” you breathed. “I’d be happy to help.”

“Then it’s settled,” his voice was thick in his throat, you relished the way his other arm stole around you, clutching at you back to bring you all the closer under his heady spell of charm and seduction. “All that’s left is to seal our new arrangement somehow…”

He pushed that heavy book off his lap, sliding to bring you into completely flushed against him. You’re sure your pulse was raging so loudly, it’s deafened his pointed and twitching ears. That chilled, corpse-cold touch under your chin tilts you up just… so…

You melted, closing that distance between your lips. Every logical thought dispersed in the wind of your desire, that panting breath that passed from your lungs into his.

That’s how this all began, and where it had brought you to this moment, where he clings to the ceiling of a massive cavern filled with both the stink of Gnolls and the vile creatures themselves. Dagger gripped in between his glinting fangs. He readies himself with a look of pure and dark excitement. He loves this. He misses this when it’s just you all back in the quiet of camp, where he tests his ever growing strength and climbing abilities, where he drinks from you every night before he hunts in the dark.

Where he slowly makes you more and more aware of your awakening body the more he touches you and caresses and kisses you. Always every night. Always between your increasingly intellectual discussions about vampiric powers and the moment he sinks his fangs into your skin to feed. He always leaves you after dark, his own belly sated, while you… you grow all the hungrier. Needier. You want more debate, more analysis, more of his body covering yours as he drinks you down.

But not anything more. Not yet. Even as you knew he was edging closer to asking you for sex. Even if he didn’t know all the… implications. After all, knowledge was a dangerous weapon.

You shake your head to free yourself from the longing thoughts of past nights and burning expectations of the night to come. You give him the signal, watching him release with flawless precision, dagger in hand now, as he falls from his spider-perch.

The Gnolls never see you coming, not before your endearingly ferocious Vampire Spawn lands with preternatural grace on their heads and vivisects them before you even reach their location.

He pants as you get at least one good shot from your bow, right for the last twitching body on the ground.

It’s not until you smile, satisfied, you notice that Astarion’s pale skin is riddled with scratches and tears from the beasts’ claws. He holds out his arms, rolling up his sleeves and smiling. Enjoying the sight of his vampiric body healing before his eyes. That crimson gaze practically glows as he looks at you over the carnage. “See something you like, my sweet?” he purrs, arching that brow, just for you, as if the others in your party aren’t even there.

“Ahem,” you clear your throat, turning to find the coveted chest of supplies, that Zhentarim sigil on it is no deterrent to you. Not when your Vampire Spawn can charm anyone to do anything now. “We better head back to camp,” you kneel before the strong chest, trying your hand to pick the iron lock.

“Tch,” his voice brushes your ear, physically tickling the small stray hairs that make you gasp. “You know I’m far more skilled with my fingers, especially when it comes to slipping inside…” You shudder to feel him crouching right behind you, his thighs pressed against your ass, his waist brushing your lower back. “…Slipping inside chests, locks, that sort of thing,” he adds louder, just to appease your unease. That dexterous touch has only grown all the smoother and stronger and sneakier now that he has fed well for a while.

He is so sneaky in fact, only one of his hands actually works the lock pick for a moment, the other quickly skates up your leg, tracing the inner seam of your buckskin breeches almost to the peak of your thigh. He laughs in your ear as you muffle a noise under your own palm.

“Soldiers, you really need four hands to pick one lock? Haven't you gotten better, Fangs, now that our fearless leader has let you suck on her and tutor you in being a Spawn?” Karlach chortles, her feet swaying side to side in that perpetual motion dance she seems to do.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Astarion throws the barb over his shoulder, letting you bury your face to hide the tweaks of ecstasy at the corners of your eyes as his fingers keep moving higher… higher. “Some silent performance only you get to savor, it seems?”

“If I didn't know better…” Gale’s pedantic voice draws closer.

“There now,” Astarion crows like the proudest rooster of them all, his hand quickly leaving the edge of your mound to twist that pick and pop the lock just as Gale peers from behind. “Look at all this loot,” he groans and stands, satisfied as he folds his arms over his chest. “Good thing you have a strong, well-fed Vampire to bring it back with us. Wouldn’t you agree, darling?”

He smirks down at you, hand extended to help you to your feet. Back to the rest, he flashes you that fang-toothed smirk that he knows sets your pulse galloping out of control. Pulling you up, he has to steady you in your legs, near boneless as they are with just that tease of pleasure. “Calm yourself darling, you're making my undead heart hurt sympathetically from all that… excitement,” he rasps right into your ear once you’re on your feet before him, releasing you in favor of bags of treasure and potions and loot to stuff in his pack.

Your mind is racing as your trod back towards your little camp well off the Risen Road for good measure. Thoughts scramble, worries peak their heads up, and you can’t stop thinking about the rest of what you have learned reading about vampires. Necessary research for you, particularly since Astarion has seemingly added flirtation and seduction into your witty repartee this last tenday. So far, you’ve managed to keep his wandering eyes from those pages when he glances through your tomes. He seems to prefer every little dip of your skin where he can see it at any rate. So far, you’ve managed to keep his hands in places on your body that are not too dangerous, yours on his as well.

But something inside you knows that tide is shifting. He wants to offer you more in exchange for more… and… well, if it doesn’t just make your body thrum with life in ways no books had and no previous interests had either.

He has beaten you back to camp, haphazardly tossed the loot for the rest of you to sort out in the center of camp. You know he’s waiting in his tent, now that the sun has begun to trek lower and lower. It’s time for your research, for your indulgence of his strength, and… whatever else might happen.

His tent is dimly lit as you enter, a mess of blankets and pillows, some fine and some in tatters. Stacks of books in the corners have replaced the blood bank bottles you first found here to clutter his space.

But no Astarion.

You tilt your head confused, settling down on one pillow, more or less intact, reaching for an apple he keeps in his stash of food just for you. Just to replenish you between his own feedings. As you bite into the hard skin, as the juice fills your mouth, you reach for a book, some ancient law book he found in the ruins of that village. Must make him think of his old life.

The pages are old and soft in your fingers, your eyes absentmindedly skimming the long words and complex sentences as you chew.

Peaceful. Until you realize it’s far too quiet.

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck prickle, that feeling of being watched creeping up your spine. Turning, mid bite, you peer into the shadowed corner of his tent behind you.

Two glowing red eyes stare at you from the dark, just a hint of glinting teeth as he smiles and drinks in your fear and surprise. He laughs to hear you hiss as you jump in your seat. “There you are,” he croons from his darkened corner. “I’ve been waiting.”

“F-f-for what?” you force a smile and force your breath to steady all at once. He slides closer, settling down right beside you, and you notice your worn book in his hand, the smile on his face is sultry.

And predatory.

And for a moment, you regret teaching him as much as you have about his untapped powers.

“When were you going to tell me about your little bit of… research… on the side?” his voice is chilling, his brow arching as he flips the book open right to the back.

Right where you had been trying so hard to prevent his eyes from skimming, his ambitious brain from devouring the knowledge.

Your body is hot and rigid, and you know from the way his pointy ears twitch, he hears your pulse. You know from the way that his nostrils flare that he smells your arousal, the slick that dampens your underthings just to be this close to him again after his little stunt today.

“If my observations are correct… and they usually are…” he purrs, even though the stack of evidence to the contrary is vast. But you bite your tongue as he continues, your heart leaping at the topic he is about to breach. “You sound and smell eager to discuss this topic if dhampires, my darling.”

You swallow, watching so heated and frozen as he slides so gracefully to place the weight of that tome in your own lap, his fingers removing the half-eaten apple from your fingers to toss to the side. Then he brings their sticky, juicy tips to his mouth to suck them clean.

You moan, unbidden, at the wet and vigor with which his tongue cleans every crevice of those digits.

“Now, I’d hate to be left wondering just why my intelligent, little darling would withhold such a vital… potent… part of my unrevealed powers as a vampire?” he sets your hand back on your thigh, a little extra brush of his fingers, returning to trace that seam inside your breaches as he had before. “Is she… curious? Afraid? Is this why she has been just so hesitant during our…” he grips your chin, turning your head with commanding force until there is nowhere else to look but his deep crimson eyes, “…late night trysts?”

“It’s not something one just… brings up, Astarion,” you try to flatten your tone, even as that one hand still traces up and around your thigh. “It’s just not… done…”

Something about his eyes softens, “It would be important to discuss, you know, for there is more that I would like to share with you than just witty banter and blood…” his tone dips low into a rumble. “It’s not something I would have known, not a concern I would have shared until I knew of it…”

“There’s more to it than you might know,” you squeak as his fingers press into that slot between your legs. “Now that you’re well-fed, you’ll feel actual….”

You swallow the word. His touch presses hard enough into your folds through your breaches to make them soaked. And you, wanton you, you give a breath and a buck of your hips to keep his fingers there.

“Pleasure,” he smirks, eyes scanning your face as your force your eyes back open, halfway at least. “Yes, I gathered as much. The more I feed, the more I come alive… alive enough to perhaps even bestow a new life…” he squints a grin at you, your mouth slack as he draws that touch just as hard again, “…perhaps one day.”

You arch your body, trying to slip closer. Your secret is out, your anxious thoughts over clandestine information dispersed in the air. And so, the next words from your mouth just build on all that you had been swallowing down.

“Yes, perhaps one day…” you sigh, leaning back on your hands to try to give him full access to your cunt. “Perhaps one day, we could test out those powers together.” Your voice shakes with excitement, it’s pressed with the sincerity you feel for him.

“Oh, my love,” he smirks and reaches both arms around your waist. That newfound strength pulls you flush into his lap, until your molten, silk-soaked center presses against where he’s hardening. “You always know what to say… Seems like quite the power that will take much preparation and proper timing…” He brings your fingers back to his lips as he kisses them softly. “I’d have to feed on more than just a bear and more than just sips from my little treat, sweet as you are…”

You nod, once or twice, before losing yourself in the bliss of his tongue on the tingling inner skin of your wrist. Barely more than a lap before his fangs pierce your skin and suck you down. Your very essence, your living blood pools in his belly, you feel it coursing in his veins. It fills him and hardens him beneath your hips in an instant.

“Well, practice makes perfect you know,” he croons, bloodied lips barely hovering off your own. “I can tell from your scent you are not… in season…. And I have only had the single little taste.”

You pant, writhing at the scratch of your clothing, you long to rip it off and toss it where your book has long since been abandoned. “Sounds right to me,” you hiss, arms tucking around his neck to lower those arrogant stupidly handsome lips to your mouth.

Astarion’s throat rumbles with a growl, the taste of your blood fresh in his mouth as he rolls you on your back. Primal. Feral. He’s your powerful vampire, blood in his body, lust in his brain. And you want to put it all to the test—your own little experiment to match his enthusiastic desire for you. His touch is lightening fast and strong, pulling off your clothing, swift and sure and careful until every inch of your bodies are bare.

Strength hums in his muscles, even as his hands gently caress your cheek, your neck still sore from all his feeding. His body presses you into the pile of blankets that cover his plank of a bed. His hips grind your belly, your thighs are pulled almost against your chest until you’re spread wide open for him. But for every jolt of his cock as it prods above you and drips his early cum on to your belly, his kisses on your lips are sweet, gentle. A silent movement of gratitude for all your willing aid. Those fingers drag their slightly warmed touch around your breast, kneading it tenderly. With every arch of your back, you can almost catch the base of his cock inside your folds.

And you shake. You quiver. You’d had a few lovers, mostly boring and few and far between. But never has your body burned for anyone like it does for him.

As if his vampire touch is calling your blood to pool beneath it. Not one traditional strength, but with Astarion, you aren’t totally sure he doesn’t have some unnatural ability to command your body. To make your blood pound and sing just for him.

“What a good girl,” he rasps, a grind of his hips to send that cock near your navel, over your skin. “I can feel your heat for me from here. Just waiting to be fucked full.” His mouth descends quickly but carefully, only taking a single nipple in his lips. Sucking hard, he pops off with a loud wet noise.

Almost as loud as your moan.

“So ready, aren’t you?” His question weighs you down, your eyes half shut to savor the way he drags back with that length, sliding it in just an inch or so into your aching sex. “I’m waiting…” he growls, and you sob as he pulls even that little bit of his tip back out.

“Yes, hells below, yes,” you pant, hands flying to claw into his ass. Pulling him towards your throbbing core.

That blunted tip prods just barely inside you again. “You want me to fill you?” he rasps.

You nod, your teeth biting your lip hard enough to bleed.

“You want me to fill your belly like you let me fill mine with your sweet blood?” he grips his arms around your shoulders, pressing harder into, cock sliding in another little bit. “Fuck you so many times, my cum will drip from you for days?”

“Yes, Astarion…” you breathe, his mouth devouring your words, ready to swallow your cry as he does, finally, fill you.

You feel the gravity of his body crushing you, his legs braced with every tendon taught as he snaps his hips into. It’s so deep, so driving the way he fucks. And every thrust slaps your flesh and smacks his balls against your ass, but you love it. His breath dampens your collarbone, arms wrapped so tightly around you, you can do nothing but hold on for dear life. Your thighs burn from how they’re bent into your stomach almost, your folds leaking with arousal, and the drag of his cock touches every part of your walls and slams against your channel’s end.

He licks your shoulder, wet tongue lapping up to the artery in your neck. Where it pulses and dances in time with his beat inside you. Flushed and boiling, speared on his length, you pant, suffocated deliciously until you burst. Your visions swimming and muscles contorting in his press, you scream for him. You can hear your arousal, your slick, coating his thighs as his thrusts only increase with speed.

Lifting his head, he sweeps a hand down your sweat-drenched belly, palm bracing just below your navel. His push is relentless, hard and gradual enough you feel it behind your belly, how he gives you resistance from outside against that constant ramming of his cock at your deepest point. It’s enough to throw you into another coil of bliss instantly. “Good girl, so wet and dirty and waiting to be filled…'' he finally speaks through his panting. And he pushes on your belly once more, grunting with each fuck as he comes undone.

As he thrusts and spills his seed, prodding the full length of him to the deepest point yet. You can feel it almost sticking through your skin as he pulses. As he spills, burst after burst, he still rams that end of your cunt.

Beads of sweat drip from his forehead as he looks down your body, and how your skin is wet and flushed and marked from where he gripped you so fiercely.

He smiles and licks his lips. You try to clamber out, but his hand only comes to rest on your shoulder. “Ah ah,” he tutts his tongue at you, slipping out, only to take two of his fingers to play in your mix of cum, slipping it back inside you over and over again. “You’ll need to practice too, and you’ll need to rest to keep all of me inside of you.”

You shudder, a smile wide on your mouth, aroused and embraced, half hidden behind the back of your hand as you cover your face.

“Tch,” he chides you, pulling that hand from your face, “none of that, my darling. I’ll watch every bit of your blush darken your cheek until you’re ready to go again.”

“Again?” you choke. Your hips already feeling stretched and sore, you lay them flat and try to ease the aches.

“Oh yes,” he purrs, “you’ll have to build your strength the old fashioned way, my treat. Now,” he gives your ass a little smack on the side as he lifts it, “on your knees, darling…”

You finally take a breath, freed from his wiry, heavy frame. One cool hand settles between your shoulder blades to have you rest your head on his bedding. But that other hand pulls your hips up, slipping through your juices and teasing your clit until you buck back against his belly. You breathe contentedly, savoring the way his fingers caress you, worship you.

You close your eyes, wriggle your hips, already craving that stretching fullness inside you. A future with him at your side during the day as your strong, well fed vampire… and on your back and knees and belly and any way he would want you during the long nights with your virile lover.

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genderkoolaid · 2 months

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Examples of transandrophobia: i've seen sections of Leslie Feinberg's piece "Sisterhood: Make it Real" passed around this site for literally years, and TODAY was the first time that I saw the whole thing and learned that ze called out cisfeminists in it for getting rid of trans men the second they started transitioning. Like I always thought it was a good piece but I had literally NO IDEA that it talked about trans men because that part was never included in posts about it, even when those posts were calling out cisfeminism for being transphobic. I'm just gobsmacked tbh

This is a great point!

Honestly more people need to read that full chapter. There's a lot of really good points.

Amongst other things, Leslie talks about how "women good men bad" is poor feminism:

Of course, as a result of the oppression women face growing up in such a violently anti-woman environment, some women draw a line between women as allies and men as enemies. While it’s understandable that an individual might do so out of fear, this approach fails as theory. It lumps John Brown and John D. Rockefeller together as enemies and Sojourner Truth and Margaret Thatcher together as allies. This view of who to trust and who to dread will not keep women safe or keep the movement on course.

How feminine men are victims of gender oppression:

The oppression of feminine men is an important one to me, since I consider drag queens to be my sisters. I’ve heard women criticize drag queens for “mocking women’s oppression” by imitating femininity to an extreme, just as I’ve been told that I am imitating men. Feminists are justifiably angry at women’s oppression - so am I! I believe, however, that those who denounce drag queens aim their criticism at the wrong people. This misunderstanding doesn’t take gender oppression into account. For instance, to criticize male-to-female drag performers, but leave out a discussion of gender oppression, lumps drag queen RuPaul together with men like actor John Wayne! RuPaul is a victim of gender oppression, as well as of racism.

How masculine women are assumed to know less about gender oppression:

But I grew up very masculine, so the complex and powerful set of skills that feminine girls developed to walk safely through the world were useless to me. I had to learn a very different set of skills, many of them martial. While we both grew up as girls, our experiences were dissimilar because our gender expressions were very different. Masculine girls and women face terrible condemnation and brutality including sexual violence - for crossing the boundary of what is “acceptable” female expression. But masculine women are not assumed to have a very high consciousness about fighting women’s oppression, since we are thought to be imitating men.

And as you said, how trans men deserve access to women's and lesbian's spaces without having their transmasculinity ignored or seen as being butch-in-denial:

And our female-to-male transsexual brothers have a right to feel welcome at women’s movement events or lesbian bars. However, that shouldn’t feed into to misconception that all female-to-male transsexuals were butches who just couldn’t deal with their oppression as lesbians. If that were true, then why does a large percentage of post-transition transsexual men identify as gay and bisexual, which may have placed them in a heterosexual or bisexual status before their transition? There are transsexual men who did help build the women’s and lesbian communities, and still have a large base of friends there. They should enjoy the support of women on their journey. Doesn’t everyone want their friends around them at a time of great change? And women could learn a great deal about what it means to be a man or a woman from sharing the lessons of transition.

Not that "trans women belong in feminism" wouldn't be a good point on its own, but people's selectivity with which parts of that chapter they share definitely warrant scrutiny.

#m.#ask box

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antifrgl · 10 months

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calling them with a pet name ☆ atsv

miles, hobie & miguel. fluff, g-neutral reader!

miles morales.

oh my boy is so flustered and he fails miserably at hiding it ! first, he tries to make sure that he heard you right and once you repeat it again, he then acts so awkward till you eventually point it out.

"you don't like it when i call you babe, right ?" "what- no, you can call me anything. i mean we're together, that's what couples do ..." certainly, he keeps mumbling for too long and mentally slaps himself for not playing it cool, but he will at some point of your relationship call you with a pet name and pray that you won't pay attention to it because else he would explode (he's just super shy abt it but he pretends otherwise if you ask of course :p)

hobie brown.

why does it gradually turns into a competition ?? like what's wrong with this guy, honestly ?? call him babe or something and he acts so cocky about it that you almost regret your action.

"so now we're using pet names, huh ?" "you know what, forget what i just said" "ay, as you wish honey" and you just glare at him because you couldn't miss how super careful he was to insist on the "honey" and pronounce it so close to your ear ... anyways, as you predicted, hobie makes it a habit to call you with pet names and enjoys seeing how flustered you can be, but you can always turn this game around if you imitate him for a whole day, he'll eventually get shy too. (;

miguel o'hara.

it doesn't have effect on him, well at least that's what it looks like, but he's just processing the information and eventually concludes that there's no reason for him to be against it ... (he likes it very much but he would never admit it to himself). truthfully, he'd prefer that you don't use pet names in public as he's shy abt his soft spot for you, i mean this man would clearly never let anyone else do that, so yeah he's def soft for you !!

as time goes on, pet names start be part of his vocabulary yet he doesn't notice it. "mi amor, have you seen my serum ?", "mi amor ? oh, that's new", "you always do it, why can't i ?, "no, no, i'm just surprised" ... better not confront him abt it again, this man gets so defensive i swear >:/

#hobie brown x reader #miles morales x reader #miguel x reader #spiderman x reader #across the spiderverse #atsv #miguel o'hara #miles morales #hobie brown #spiderverse x reader #marvel x reader

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chocochannie · 10 months

Text

Soft touches

Theodore Nott x gn! reader

Fluff, less than 1000 words

English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes!!

It was friday evening. You were heading to the library as usual. At this time, there weren't many students, so you could peacefully read. Stepping into a big dark room with many shelves filled with old books and candles flying everywhere, you smelled a familiar scent. God, how you loved this place.

As you sat at your usual seat in the back of the library and opened your book, you heard footsteps getting closer to you. You looked up and saw Theodore Nott.

You didn't talk much to him, but you were crushing on him for ages but wouldn't admit it, even to your best friend or even yourself. He was more like the quiet type of person. He didn't speak much, and you always wondered why he was friends with Draco and Mattheo. They were the complete opposite, loud, outgoing, mean, and always partying. Theo is kindhearted, he may seem scary and imitating, but that's far from the truth.

"Hi, is this seat taken?" He said, pointing to the seat beside you.

The library is almost empty, why would he want to sit here?

"Not at all, go ahead." You said slightly smiling at him.

He sat down and took out a sketchbook from his bag. You didn't know he liked to draw. You tried to subtly look at his drawings as he flipped the pages.

The sketchbook was filled with beautiful landscapes, animals, and portraits of people you've never seen before but also of his friends, even some teachers. They were mostly drawn with pencils, but some of them, especially landscapes, were painted. They were absolutely beautiful. You've been so caught up in admiring his work that you didn't see that he noticed this.

"Well.. I know it might sound weird, but could you pose for me? I mean, it's totally fine if not, but you look so pretty right now, and I'd love to capture this.. gosh, that sounded creepy, I'm sorry." He said.

It really caught you off guard but didn't fail to make you blush slightly.

"Don't be sorry. Thank you, and yeah, I could do that. Should I move?" You said hoping he wouldn't notice how nervous you are.

"Not really, just do this..." he said, taking your hand in his and moving it to your face. His cold finger tips brushing against your cheek.

His hand was so soft. His gorgeous eyes were looking straight into yours. How could you be so madly in love with him?

You didn't move a muscle as he started drawing you. His blue eyes scanning every inch of you. The only thing you could hear was the rain outside. You were as focused on him as he was on you. His dark curls falling onto his forehead, his pale skin that reminded you of the moon, his sleepy bright eyes, his soft pink lips, his long, skinny fingers. All this made you fall for him, he was breathtaking.

He finally finished and showed you the drawing.

"Here it is. It's not perfect but I hope you'll like it" he said handing it to you.

It was marvelous, he drew you exactly how you look like, added every little detail.

"You can keep it, sorry I have to go, I promised Draco I'll help him with his assignment." Right after he spoke, he rushed out of the library. You didn't even have time to thank him.

Sighing you stood up, but the piece of paper fell. You picked it up and saw text on the back.

"Would you like to go to hogsmeade on a date with me? I think im falling for you more every day."

You also think you're falling for him more everyday, if that's even possible.

Masterlist

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risuola · 4 months

Text

SKIP SANTA, WE'RE BOTH ON THE NAUGHTY LIST ANYWAY — F. READER x GOJO SATORU, who’s always naughty

You aren’t an official couple, more like friends with benefits, but most of your close friends know there’s something going on between you two and it’s all mostly because of how naughty Satoru always is when you’re next to him. He just can’t keep his hands to himself.

cw: suggestive fluff, friends with benefits but really it's just idiots in love, reader discretion is advised — 0,9k words

a/n: with that I'm closing the kissmas event. this one is short, this one is very lighthearted and soft because I just needed some soft Satoru, okay? anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed the little kissmas with me, I'll be back soon with regular content 🖤

kissmas masterlist

“But Santa~!” You whined, fighting with your friend and putting all your force into the futile attempt to pull him out of the bed. It was Christmas and Satoru just wouldn’t leave the sheets and no matter how hard you were tugging on his arm, it was getting you nowhere. It also seemed like nowhere is exactly where the two of you will go that day, instead of heading to the mall to see Santa.

“Oh, skip Santa, we’re both on the naughty list anyway,” he rolled his eyes playfully, his face twisted in the beautiful, toothy grin and he moved up from the pillows. False hope that he’ll get up and ready vanished as soon as he used his long arm to wrap it around your waist and pull you back into the bed. You landed on top of his frame, melting into the familiar warmth and laughing at the stubbornness, so characteristic of him.

“Maybe you are on the naughty list, Satoru,” you protested, lifting your head just enough to look him in the eyes. The cerulean orbs, clear and shimmering like gems in the sunlight were fixed on you, and you couldn’t help but feel privileged to see them so often. Gojo’s eyes were pure magic that never failed to captivate you and you were sure, with those eyes, he would be able to convince you to do everything.

“I sure am. And you are the reason I’m on it,” he replied, his tone teasing and matching the smirk on his lips. “But don’t worry, gorgeous, I have a gift for you anyway, even if you’ve been such a bad, naughty girl lately, no need to chase the old guy in red suit.”

“Oh, you don’t get it,” you chuckled, brushing his nose with the tip of your own. His hands were already wandering across your figure, squeezing the fat on your butt and hips.

“Maybe I don’t,” he bucked his head up, chasing the sweet taste of your lips with his own. “Why sit on Santa’s lap when you can sit on mine?” Satoru grinned at the way you moved your head back, just to not let him have the pleasure of kissing you so easily. You were a teaser and he loved it. “Or better,” he purred, grabbing you and flipping both of you around, “you can sit on my di—"

“Satoru!” You let a laugh out, it was a mess, you were tangled in the covers and he was now above you, naked and absolutely not ashamed. “We were supposed to go with the kids.”

“Oh, I’m sure the teenagers also have better plans than to see the Santa imitation,” the man used the tight position you were in to steal the kisses he wanted. Soon, he was flooding you with quick pecks across your face and lips, and down your neck and shoulders. “You can’t possibly envision Megs enjoying the old prick with a fake beard in the mall.”

“You’re saying this because you’re horny,” you said, faking the serious tone, but you couldn’t keep the act long when his eyelashes were tickling your skin whenever he pressed his face against your body.

“As if you’re not,” he purred, his voice vibrating against the most sensitive spot on your neck before he sucked onto it. “Besides, I know you can’t say no to your best friend.”

“Oh, best friends? Is that what we are?” You couldn’t hold back the laugh and Satoru grinned too.

You and Gojo are not a couple. Not officially, anyway, because if you asked anyone who knows you just enough, they would certainly say you’re in relationship. And it felt that too, it felt beautiful, and intimate and oh-so real. Dinners that led to breakfasts, pecks that led to long displays of passion and so many feelings involved into every moment you share made the situation between you two feel very much like a couple. And you love him, so much – in fact, there’s so much love that you feel towards him that it’s nearly impossible to describe in words. You went with him through the good and bad, you experienced the worst and also the best. Every low has always led to an awesome high, no downs went without the ups.

“I don’t care how you wanna call us,” Gojo smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “To me, you are everything.” It was a moment. A seriousness in the blue orbs that made for such rare picture that it took your breath away, before his expression changed yet again. This time, a smile tugged on his lips, a sheepish mixture with smugness. “I could call you my wife. Do you want to be my wife?” He was playful, his grin developing, lightening up his gorgeous features. That idiot.

He made you laugh, yet again you felt like falling in love.

“Your wife, huh?”

“Who would say no to that?” He asked, peeling away the layers of bedsheets between your bodies, and struggling with the tangle of comforters and blankets that he himself created just few moments before. “Having all of this to yourself?” Satoru made a theatrical gesture pointing at his own body from head to toes, making a point of how impressive his entirety is. “Your name with my last name sounds great also. And dick, let’s not forget about my dick.”

“Yeah, right, it’s the dick that does it for me,” you were laughing. The warmth was filling every cell of your body.

“Knew that.”

“You’re an idiot. But I love you, Satoru.”

“I love you too.”

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sphireath-wisp · 5 months

Text

#Amator

Sypnosis: Things they love doing for you - no matter how ridiculous it is, no matter how terrible they are at doing it, no matter how many failed attempts it costs them, no matter how much time and energy it eats up of their day, no matter how much it inconvenienced them.

Warnings: not proofread (as usual)

Notes: The word 'amateur' originates from the word 'amator' which is Latin for lover/to love/love. An interpretation of it could be to do something for the love of it, to do something simply because you love it. Amateurs at loving learning how to love and loving no matter how horrible they are at it.

Featuring: Michael Kaiser, Sae Itoshi, Seishiro Nagi, Reo Mikage x GN! Reader

Michael Kaiser - who plans dates beforehand as he learns more about you, who loves being cheesy and romantic, with flowers and decorations so extravagant that they could be considered tacky.

Kaiser, oh Kaiser. He never fails to surprise and keep you on your toes. He doesn't care when you've grown a 6th sense for whatever he's scheming because it just proves that you've spent a lot of time with him - so much to the point where you recognise that smirk on his face the moment he's planning something.

With a bouquet of your favourite flowers, he masks how he's simply a bundle of nerves - all jittery and antsy - with his usual charming grin. Kaiser ponders if this is enough for you, if this date was too sudden, if he got you a big enough bouquet, but his doubts wash away when your skin meets his. Your kisses leave him breathless, his mind goes blank and the only thought he could process is how he wants more.

"Too much?" He repeats after you, laughing at the idea that something like this is too much when he was just worrying that this wasn't enough to wow you just moments ago. If this is too much, you have no other choice than to get used to it. Get ready for your whole world to be shaken by him since he'll swoop you off your feet without an ounce of hesitation.

"Meine Liebe, this isn't too much," he's firm, confident as usual. He knows that he means every word. Tucking a strand of your hair away from your pretty face, he doesn't realize the way his smile grows.

Perhaps that's what makes him so naturally charming about him - how he's so romantic and old-school it almost makes you want to barf. Cheesy love letters, dancing at midnight in the kitchen alongside an empty bottle of wine, symphonies of hums and laughter fill the room.

When you fall in love with him even deeper, he notices, yet not a word is uttered - no teasing or playful bantering tonight. Good, keep looking at him like that, you're always so enchanting to the point where he'd do this all over again to get another look at your lovestruck face.

Sae Itoshi - whose thoughts are constantly being eaten up by you despite the minimal chances you both get to bask in each other's presence, who poorly imitates the example of so-called 'romantic gestures' until he becomes good at it.

He finds himself at the front step of a local flower shop, mind consumed by you even during his morning jogs. With a hesitant step into the shop, teal eyes wander every bouquet on display. Frequently, his teammates would buy gifts such as this for their significant others, so you would like it if he did the same... right?

Sae is quick to learn that he should prepare something to say beforehand.

"Oh, you bought this for me?" You ask aloud, a little stunned by the sudden act. "Mm," is all Sae replies with, calmly passing you the bouquet. You clasp it in your hands with a touch much more gentle compared to his.

"Thank you, sweetheart," You croon the endearing term you assigned him, something only you call him, something only he allows you to call him, and something that he's grown fond of. Silence sits in the air as he sits down across from you, the piping hot cup of coffee you never fail to prepare for him on the table.

"Something wrong?"

"...Nothing."

"Sae... I can tell when something is on your mind." a sigh, "It's okay. Take your time to open up to me."

He pauses. Scratching the back of his neck, his gaze flickers between you and the cup of coffee. "Sorry, things became awkward all of a sudden. I bought you that bouquet impulsively."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "I don't mind. If that's how you want to show me that you love me, that isn't wrong either. There's no wrong way to love." The rain outside gets heavier, the sound of rain hitting the windows filling the room as you inch your hands closer to his.

"What's your favorite flower?" Sae speaks up, eyes stuck your hands when they encase his, fingers re-exploring every crease of his palm. "I never got to ask before." A newfound determination can be found in the firm grip he has on you, spine straightening.

"I don't have a favorite but I guess... orchids." You grin, "You just bought me orchids after all."

Seishiro Nagi - who's always on your side, who learns your non-verbal cues

"Wow, you're so capable," Your friend sighs, sarcasm evident in their tone. Eyes rolling as you nudge them, laughing along and apologizing. Leaving your bag with Nagi, you turned and made your way back to your apartment - which wasn't so far away.

"Jeez, if we're late, this is going to be all their fault," Your friend leans their weight on one leg, shaking their head in disappointment. "Gosh, they're so forgetful, it's annoying sometimes."

"(Name) just forgot, no big deal," Nagi murmured to your friend. He finds his mood souring when they criticise you, jaw clenching unconsciously at their words when he's usually so nonchalant about things. "We rushed 'em too," he continues, failing to notice how adamant he is about defending you.

"I'm just saying,"

Nagi's usual frown deepens by a bit as he bites the inside of his cheek.

Noticing the stifling tension in the air, your friend opens their mouth but eventually purses their lips in thought, deciding to hold back their retorts. "...Should we just go first? I don't wanna be late. Plus, (Name) knows the way there anyway."

"You go, 'm gonna wait for (Name)," Nagi sits down on a bench, placing your bag on his lap and hugging it to his chest. He doesn't notice when your friend has turned heel and left - or rather, he doesn't really care enough to notice. By the time you find him, he's on his phone and busy playing games.

You tap him on the shoulder. "Where's (Friend's Name)?" He shrugs. "Left first."

"Oh..." Your tone dips.

"Upset?" He notices.

You nod your head, "Kinda."

"It's okay," he replies. What you assume to be a half-hearted attempt at consoling you works out splendidly when he pulls you into a hug. "Don't worry about them, let's go. We could even ditch them and go home if you wanna."

Reo Mikage - who doesn't believe in being 'desperate' when you're too in love with someone to care, who can't believe you when you tell him that he's your dream guy.

"Another one?! I live in an apartment, not a garden, Reo!" An exasperated sigh escapes you, but you can't stay mad at him for long when puppy dog eyes stare back at you. A wide grin spreads on his face, entering your house as if it were his own as he settles the bouquet down on your coffee table.

Since starting your relationship, Reo has insisted on being a gentleman - opening doors for you, carrying your stuff, and learning more about you and your struggles once you're comfortable enough to open up to him. As if he wasn't enough of a dreamboat and too lucky of a catch for you, he never fails to send you flowers every week.

Even on the weeks he's busy, he'll have them delivered, even profusely apologizing because he couldn't meet you face-to-face even though the gesture alone made your heart melt. He excels at everything, and charming you is one of the things he's particularly good at.

"Are they becoming a hassle for you, babe?" Reo asks, strolling around to realize that you've built up quite the collection of flowers. "I could rent out somewhere for you to keep them all."

"That's too much. Plus, I like having them here," He nods at your words, taking quick notice of the sticky note you attached to the stem of each bouquet - keeping track of which date he gave these flowers to you on.

"Are you sure? You don't have to keep them all. Throw them out if you have to."

"Positive. I can somewhat garden now thanks to you."

Taglist: @dewwberry, @saenora, @van1lla-alt

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cheapshrimpysheep · 5 months

Note

Hi hi!! Can I request a oneshot with Sebek where he has a crush on reader but they're oblivious. Sebek himself is in denial that he might even hold feelings for somebody, but it's clear how he truly feels through his actions (aka acts of service, helping the reader). He pretends to act annoyed about it but the red on his face gives him away to everybody except reader who's just 'hes such a nice guy!". It's gotten to the point even Ace and Deuce of all people are trying to tease/hint to them about what's going awn 😭

COMMENTS: Hi! Um... I'm not sure if this is what you wanted, but I ended up being inspired* to write a story in which Ace and Deuce, with Lilia's help, created a plan to make Sebek confess his feelings. I'm also the oblivious type in these situations so...

I hope you and all enjoy ;)

*(You can see this by the number of words I ended up writing. This doesn't usually happen to me)

CHARACTERS: Sebek Zigvolt x Reader

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Declaration

WORD COUNT: 1.520 words

“Each day this gets even more ridiculous, cringe and awkward.” Ace complains. “And every time we tease them, Sebek pierces our eardrums and (Y/N) gets closer to becoming the third member of the Face Palm Club.”

“Yeah...” Deuce says “He even started appearing out of nowhere just to be useful to (Y/N), even when it's not necessary. I wonder where he learned to be so sneaky with that height and that voice.”

“In fact, the situation is starting to lose the fun it had at the beginning.” A voice suddenly said, startling Ace and Deuce. Lilia just did his upside down appearance.

“Is Sebek acting strange in Diasomnia too?” Deuce asks, after recovering from the scare.

“Well, he was always a peculiar boy.” Lilia chuckles. “I believe you also had fun teasing him.” he sighs “But Sebek's denial of (Y/N)'s obliviousness is already starting to go on for a long time. Even for me. He started talking about (Y/N) the same way he talks about Malleus.” He starts to laugh softly to himself.

“What's so funny?” Ace asks “Did you remember anything embarrassing that happened?”

“I did. One day...” Lilia had just talked to Sebek to try to get him to admit that he have a crush on you. His mission failed due to Sebek’s stubbornness. Lilia was close to the door and Sebek wasn't paying attention to it. He was yelling at another Diasomnia student for some reason. Lilia smiled mischievously and said loudly something like: “Oh (Y/N)! To what do we owe the visit?” Sebek’s thunderous voice fell silent immediately and he turned to the door with a smile that was unthinkable a second ago. Lilia was amused to see his expression turn to embarrassment upon discovering that Lilia had tricked him.”

Ace and Deuce laughed.

“Dude, the other day I was trying to hint (Y/N) that Sebek had a thing for them. Do you know what they replied to me?” Ace imitates your voice with a cute smile on his face “Aw, he's just being nice. And I was like, He’s only nice to you!”

Lilia started by laughing, but then wondered: “As (YN)’s close friends, do you think they might feel the same way about Sebek?”

“Oh, definitely!” Ace confirms “But since he's in denial, I think (Y/N) understands this as not being interested. I mean, you just said he treats Malleus the same way. Do you think he has a crush on Malleus too?” Ace laughs.

“I've been further from believing in such a thing.” Lilia whispers to himself. “But despite the treatment he gives them both is similar,” he says to them “I can distinguish between the admiration he feels for Malleus and the affection he feels for (Y/N). He sees Malleus as an extremely respectable superior. In (Y/N)'s case I believe it's more like someone weaker but worthy of his protection and respect.”

“What do you think it would be like if they finally declared themselves to each other?” Deuce asks.

“Well, as I've never seen Sebek go through anything like this before, the results might be surprising.” Lilia smiles mischievously “An experiment worth testing, don't you agree?”

You were in Ramshackle Dorm when you hear someone knocking on the door. A strong, firm type of knocking that you recognize.

“HUMAN! How can you be so reckless with your own safety?!” Sebek says the moment you open the door. If you say "Hello to you too" before asking what he's talking about, he will blush slightly and respond: “I apologize for not greeting you properly. But Lilia-sama told me about your cursed room. And that's why I'm here.” he gets a smug on his face “Lilia-sama entrusted me with instructions to solve your problem.”

You ask him what he's talking about. You didn't have any cursed rooms. At least that you knew.

“Lilia said maybe you don't know yet. He suggested asking the ghosts if this is true. They would have more knowledge about this subject.”

You do this and the ghosts confirm it. They say yes, that there is a scary, cursed room in the dorm and that they are very grateful to Seberk for being there to help them. And you know something is up. Not with the dorm, but with the ghosts. Was Lilia messing with Sebek again and asked the ghosts for help?

The ghosts guide you to the "cursed room". If you ask where Grim is, they'll tell you he was so scared by that room that he hid in your bedroom. That excuse doesn't convince you.

“You know,” One of the ghosts tells Sebek. “We’re very happy to see that someone cares about (Y/N) as much as you do.”

Sebek starts to blush a little. “W-well, this is nothing special. Don't think I'm doing this because I have some strong feelings for (Y/N). Don't let those two Heartslabyul humans get that idea into your heads. I'm here because I was entrusted by LIlia-sama himself to solve the problem that a poor human without magic wouldn't be able to deal with.”

The ghosts look between them, disappointed by Sebek's stubbornness and denial.

Once in front of the cursed room's door, you open it. You and Sebek enter a dusty and unused room like so many others in Ramshackle Dorm. And the door abruptly shuts behind the two of you, leaving you locked inside.

Sebek takes a step as if to run towards the door but stops himself. You ask why he did that, if he wasn't going to try to open the door.

“My first instinct is to do so. But Lilia said this would happen. And that I needed to be firm and follow the instructions he had given me.”

“Which are...?” you ask.

“The ones in the paper on my pocket that Lilia said I shouldn't open until this very moment.”

Even though I knew it sounded like a Lilia prank, you also knew that it didn't matter what you said to Sebek. He never disputes Lilia's word even if it's the silliest thing anyone has ever heard. And he wasn't going to start doubting it now. Your only option, besides having a useless argument with Sebek, is to play along.

He takes the paper out of his pocket, unfolds it and reads it. The next thing you see is a look of astonishment and a loud "WHAT?!" coming from his mouth. You ask what is written on the paper and he needs a few seconds to take a deep breath before telling you. He blushed again and read it out loud.

“To break the curse, two people must sacrifice their freedom within the room, until they both confess their true feelings for each other.”

Yes, you know that sounds like a non-sense romantic trope, but once again, Sebek won't question anything Lilia says. Or in this case, writes. He turns to you.

“Well, you are the host. By all means, go first.”

Well, that all sounds to you like some kind of prank. So you decide not to tell the truth. You say you like him, but not in a way that he perceives as romantic, to protect your feelings.

“I'm glad that you realize how valuable I am in your life.” He says this with a smug that disappears right after. “You... for a human are very... respectable, and... worthy of my devotion. Yes, I think this would suffice.”

He quickly heads for the door. Pull it. It doesn't open. Push. Nothing. He starts trying to force the door open, but the only thing he can do is practically shake the wall.

He gives up, frustrated. He inhales and sighs, turns like the soldier he is and walks towards you with a determined look in his eyes. “Human, I wasn't completely honest with you. I want to reiterate that I am only doing this to break the curse! Everything that is said in this room must never leave the same! UNDERSTOOD?”

You agree. Sebek closes his eyes, as if it would be easier for him to say it. And his cheeks start to blush.

“I don't know what this is.” He opens his eyes, with that exaggeratedly angry look of his. “And I refuse to call it... being in love or, as those humans you hang out with say, having a crush.” he calms down again “What I said earlier is not a lie. I do respect you, and I do see you as one of the few worthy of my devotion. But not like the Young Master or Lilia. I...” he closes his eyes again, and his blush intensifies “I NOURISH STRONG PLEASANT FEELINGS FOR YOU! THAT IS ALL I KNOW!”

You take this opportunity to be honest with him as well. In your own way and with your words you say that you feel the same way about him. You two are silent for a few seconds after that. Sebek doesn't know what to say or what to do, he just lets himself look at you with a surprised and affectionate look that you've never seen before.

The door slowly opens by itself.

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

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pinasscoladaa · 1 month

Text

Straight in….to the wrong net - Kerstin Casparij x Reader

As soon as the ball hit the back of the net you couldn’t control the laugh that was let out of your mouth, 3-0 up and your girlfriend had just put one.. her first one into the back of the net.. the wrong net.. making it an own goal. You saw the look in kerstins face as the ball went in, almost in slow motion the sheer disbelief that she had been the one to give united a goal in citys very dominant derby.

However you knew yourself and your girlfriend’s humour so as all the played returned to their position you made a brief stop over to kerstin, grabbing her shoulders and shaking them before imitating the commentators and shouting, “and its down the front line, city’s number 18 getting possession back of the ball and what this… SHE SENDS IT RIGHT INN….TO THE WRONG NET”

Your city teammates seemed to have heard your interaction and were quick to laugh along as you returned to your position, being jokingly pushed there faster by your girlfriend who was trying not to laugh along.

The game concluded at 3-1, once again proving that manchester is infact blue, and as soon as the final whistle blew you felt a body jump up onto your back, being quick to catch it before it fell you felt the body lean over your shoulder and kiss all over your cheek. Turning your head to meet her lips you pecked them a few times before she began laughing softly, “did i really just do that?” she mumbled, hiding her face in your shoulder.

“Yes baby, yes you did. but congratulations on your first goal my lovely” you chuckled, still teasing the dutch girl as you walked the bothbof you round the ethiad, clapping for the fans who never failed to show up for your team. Feeling a small smack to the side of your head and the groan into your shoulder from your girlfriend only made you laugh harder, quickly feeling her begin laughing along too.

You and kerstin weren’t shy to show your relationship on social media, the both of you loving showing eachother off, quickly gaining the title as City’s “it” couple, the both of you always interacting with fans together and then laughing at the clips posted of the interactions later on, so you weren’t surprised to find the clips flooding your social feed of you teasing kerstin after her goal, fans all over the wsl loving your guys relationship were quick to share and repost the clip, much to kerstins dismay, however much she wanted to admit it she loved it secretly. So a few hours after the game when you found yourself of your girlfriend’s instagram yet again.. you reposted the clip to your own socials before cuddling into your girlfriends side in your shared apartment, finding comfort in your girls arms after a long day.

“i love you mijn vriendin” she whispered into your hair, kissing the top of your head.

“i love you. forever, my baby.”

#woso community #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso blurbs #woso #woso one shot #kerstin casparij #kerstin casparij x reader

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eldritch-spouse · 2 months

Note

I love the idea of Zizz becoming obsessed with a lucid dreamer.

She talks to him about things she's too afraid to talk to other people about, rants about how tiresome her work is, and doing stupid shit while they wander a dreamscape she makes. Sometimes she fucks him if he doesn't take on a human appearance (realizing she's a monsterfucker). She thinks he is nothing more than a random figment formed from their dreams, enjoying these moments that will be gone by the morning.

Zizz keeps getting drawn to her, the more time he spends, the harder he falls for her.

[Aaah, this is a cute idea. Reader is ambiguous.]

The first night, you didn't know what was happening.

There was a presence in your dream, you felt it as soon as it invaded the sanctity of your slumber. A thick shadow lurking in the halls of the manor you spent so long visualizing during waking hours just so you could bring it into your dreams.

Curiosity led you to follow that strange pull. You didn't consciously manifest anything or anyone yet, so what could it be that your brain cooked up on its own?

It seemed to be wandering, and the closer you got to it, the louder these slow thumps could be heard, footsteps making aged wooden floorboards creak in protest. The parts of your dream where this thing dwelled seemed to become somehow more vivid than the ones you created, as if it were breathing life into them. Your curious search becomes a frantic chase when you catch the outline of something massive turning the corner.

Was the manor this complex? Were there these many halls?

No, you remember it being smaller. Is it... Changing its location? Changing your dream? This has to be the product of your sudden distraction. Yes, that's it.

You remember the way you stopped breathing when you opened a door, only to see him pass by.

What you can only describe as a giant demonic entity, with pallid, ash-like skin and a great veil over its horned face. A thin tail that ended in a crescent shape swaying lazily behind a masculine inhuman figure.

Between the shock and fear, you could only watch it trudge to another division, uncaring of your presence.

Your lungs start working again, on the first desperate gasp-

You wake up.

The second time, he laughed.

Some time had passed.

You never truly felt all that comfortable in your own dreamscapes after that odd encounter and, strangely, even if you remembered the sight of that demonoid so clearly, manifesting him was proving itself to be harder than expected.

You felt like you needed to bring him back, if only because his appearance left more questions than answers, and that encounter begged some clarifications.

The versions you did manage to create always seemed oddly deformed, as if you were a novice at this.

Tonight, you were dedicating your time to making him reappear, which led you to a mostly white space devoid of features beyond a floor, and the several copies of the entity you are failing to put together.

Some are discolored. Others have too many horns, the one in the corner is... Melting? The latest keeps disappearing and popping up in random spots. None of them are behaving at all, just standing there like mockeries of statues.

They feel so fake, so paper-like, cheap imitations of something that felt so powerful and perfect! Like there really was another person in your dream...

You're getting frustrated.

It's a pointless effort born out of a spook.

After what feels like an eternity of populating an endless landscape with grotesque reflections, you simply sit down and watch them fail miserably at existing.

Except... A new one emerges from the back of a swaying, greenish copy.

It looks around, tensing, as if perturbed by something, then casts its gaze to the clones surrounding it.

You didn't make that one. Not willingly. It's... It's too perfect, he looks exactly like the demon you saw, down to a T! Even the little glowing blob on his head, that's him! That's... Him. The real one. Oh fuck.

Horrified yet oddly gleeful, you simply stay very still and watch everything unfold.

The giant demon begins exploring once more, touching the flawed versions of himself he comes across. The ones that seem to particularly disturb him are waved at, and with the simple gesture, disappear entirely. Although you cannot see his face, his tail swats quickly behind the monster's body, it's clear he's at least amused by what he's seeing.

One second he's moving to the nearest malformed abomination, the next you blink and he's standing still, fixed on you. There's no doubt he's spotted you sitting cross-legged like an idiot, you bet you stick out like a sore thumb.

It felt like hours passed in that silent locking of stares. This time, you remember to breathe. But your mouth certainly won't open. And he doesn't utter a word either, resuming his perusing.

Finally, he spots the one whose clothes keep flickering in and out of place. You don't know why it's like that, and it embarrasses you. Your brain can guess the general body type and coloration of the demon given he doesn't cover all that much, but it has no way of knowing what his genitals look like, so your mind is visibly cycling through possibilities.

Seeing himself naked, with a variety of ridiculous genital equipment, the entity invading your dream starts to shake slightly.

You fear you might have greatly offended him without meaning to, but then, this sound starts bouncing off non-existent walls until it reaches you.

A melodic sort of chuckling that fills you with some unknown lulling tingle, rising into amused, helpless belly laughter, cackling. His head throws back and his shoulders quake. It's the only thing you can focus on, a voice so clear and so distinct, something you've never heard before. How incredible.

Well... At least he finds it funny? Good, that's. Good. You guess.

When the noise dies down, you find him looking at you again.

The flustered tightening of your belly is probably what woke you up.

The third time, he spoke to you.

It must not have been more than a week.

You think he's lurking around more often, because you're starting to pick up on the way his presence alters the spaces around him, makes them feel all the more immersive.

This time, you were creating a garden, picking the flowers you'll put in a variety of plots.

When you head to the little gazebo in the center, you find that not only has it increased twofold in size, he is sitting at the table you placed there.

The demon seems calm, legs spread, one hand resting on the table, the other holding his covered head as he watches you freeze.

Your first instinct is to turn back and pretend he's not there, to walk away, maybe try shoving him out of the dreamscape. But do you really want to?

" Stay. " He beckons, the moment you take a step back.

" Who are you? " Is instantly shot back.

The monster leans back on his seat, the clawed hand previously resting rises, and with a snap, day turns into night, a brilliant sky with millions of stars and swirling cool hues.

It's nothing short of gorgeous.

At this point, you think he has more control of your dream than you.

As if to prove that, the chair opposing him slides back, and he tips his head towards it, waving.

" I like your dreams. " The demon starts. " You're interesting. "

" ... Thank you? " Because what else are you supposed to say.

" Sit. " He beckons again. " Talk to me tonight. "

You didn't believe it.

Didn't believe who he said he was.

How he managed to enter your dreams.

Didn't believe that someone like him could ever find you worth any time.

You chalked it up to total madness, and took the entire conversation as a humorous game, laughing when it seemed as if he was getting almost enamored with you.

After an admittedly delightful night sharing drinks he had conjured for the two of you, Zizz sighs and tells you that it's time for you to wake up.

You're about to ask how he would know such when he leans forward to gently tip the glass up to your lips, and the richness of your favorite drink is the last thing you feel before it all fades away.

Tonight, he offered to take you into one of his dreamscapes.

A smile in his words and a shine to the soft paw he extended your way convinced you to accept the offer.

Maybe the way he purred and whispered your name like a prayer should have been warning enough that you were playing a dangerous game.

It's been hours. A day? Too long. Longer than you've ever been dreaming for. Tracking time is harder in a location you have no control over.

This is a very beautiful royal mansion, and you've been having lots of fun spending time with Zizz in it and all...

But you'd like to wake up.

It's not happening. You can't bring yourself out of the lucid dream. You... You're stuck.

When a quiet moment falls between the two of you, a small hand taps the supposed demonlord's arm.

" Zizz? "

" Mmm? "

There's a gulp. " ... I need to wake up. "

Seconds bleed into what must have been a minute of complete silence.

Until his palm lands on your head and he affectionately combs over your hair, leading you forward beside him as you're about to enter his dreamscape's bedroom.

Claws tighten on the skin of your scalp.

" Don't be silly. "

#Zizz oc #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #monster boyfriend #yandere demon #monster x reader #not sfw #minors dni #monsterfucker #terato tag

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illusioninfnty · 7 months

Text

day 5 ; nipple play

↠ alicent hightower x reader

fandom: house of the dragon word count: 835 warnings: nsfw 18+, fem!reader, reader has a large chest, semi-public sexual acts

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

You always took notice of how the Dowager Queen Alicent would always come visit her grandchildren whenever you were taking care of them. After the first couple of times, it no longer became a coincidence wherever she would stop by the room when it was just you and the babes.

Today, however, was the first time she visited when your breasts were out, feeding the twins, one suckled on each nipple.

“I apologize for my indecency, my Queen—” you start before she holds a hand up.

“No need for that. It was my intrusion, dear.” Alicent sends you a shaky smile, and you can’t help but notice how her eyes always manage to flicker downwards. You have had a large chest ever since you were young, and by this point in your life you can tell when people are leering at your breasts.

You never would’ve guessed the Dowager Queen would be one of those people.

She stands proudly in front of you, chin tilted up. She dons her signature Hightower green, and her hair lays down in soft waves, her youthfulness still shining through. With her kids having babes of their own, you always forgot how close to age the two of you are.

Yet her eyes tell a much different story than her posture, holding in much curiosity and a speck of shame. You’ve seen this before with various women you’ve been entangled with. The hesitancy to admit their attraction towards another person of their sex, something frowned upon all across Westeros.

“Would you like to see them?” You gesture to the twins, who you hold in each arm.

She remains silent, avoiding your eyes. You can see the way she bites the inside of her cheek, as if contemplating what to say to you. But you already know what you came here looking for.

Just give her a knowing glance. “I’ll put them down for a quick nap.”

After you get the babes settled, you turn back to the Dowager Queen. Your breasts still spill from the top of your dress, unable to adjust them while holding both of the children. Alicent no longer holds her staring back.

You approach her, pensive in your steps so as to not scare her off. You notice the way her breathing quickens, no doubt her heart racing faster in her chest.

“Would you like to touch them?” you ask her. You lower the top of your dress even more, your breasts freely hanging and nipples hardening from the cool air.

A brief gasp leaves her lips as she glances up at you, then reaches a hesitant hand out. Her hand is soft, fingers delicate as they trace your breast, focusing on your nipple. Alicent tugs at the nipple, not too hard, but enough to send tingles down your body. You moan at her touch before focusing your attention back onto her.

“May I?” You gesture to her own chest. She looks at you pensively, and just as you believe she is going to deny you, you interject.

“It will feel good. Just like it does for me.”

The Dowager Queen must see the way you derive pleasure from her touch, because it only takes her a couple of seconds before she nods. “Then you may.”

You move behind her to undo the lacing of her dress, only enough so her breasts become exposed.

She goes to cover them with her arm, but you gently take them away from her chest. You place one of her hands back onto your breast just as you place one of your own on hers.

Alicent seems to imitate your own motions, her inexperience shining through. You tug on her nipple hard as she lets out a moan, clutching your forearms as a means to balance. She arches herself into you when you circle one of her nipples with your thumb, and she fails to conceal her moan when you lean down to lick the other.

Her hands lace in your hair as you give equal attention to each breast, alternating between flicking, pinching, and sucking her nipples.

It’s then that a piercing cry from one of the babes echoes out from the other side of the room.

You remove yourself from the Dowager Queen as you crane your neck, seeing how the babes have already awakened from their quick nap.

You turn back to Alicent as you smooth out your dress. “I must return to my duties now, my queen. I believe that little Jahaerya and Jaehaerys may still be hungry.”

Alicent blinks silently, staring at you with her wide eyes. When you start to redo her corset back up and adjust the top of her dress, she seems to finally regain her composure. “Yes. Of course. Yes, you’re dismissed.” She saunters out of the children’s room, but not before you catch the faint dusting of red that covers her cheeks.

You smirk at your newfound knowledge of the Dowager Queen’s tastes, and return to caring for the children.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #alicent hightower x reader #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #alicent hightower #alicent x reader #alicent hightower smut

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suzukiblu · 5 months

Text

Day twenty-one of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

“Sure,” Tim says in a mostly-reasonable imitation of a normal person who is not in a good ten feet over their head, taking the seat Kon left him. Kon flashes him another grin and unzips his jeans. He is still wearing his suit underneath them. It still does not even slightly matter to Tim’s stupid idiot hormones.

He tries not to stare at Kon stripping off his boots and jeans, but absolutely, undeniably fails. The situation is not improved when Kon turns his back towards him and smirks back over his shoulder at him.

“Unzip me?” he asks, the bastard. Tim does not in any way believe he needs the help unzipping his suit, but also Tim is a stupid idiot with stupid idiot hormones and he does, in fact, lean forward on the bench and reach up to do so. He pulls Kon’s zipper down his spine and, miraculously, does not spontaneously combust in the process.

New information: Kon doesn’t wear any kind of underlayer under his suit. At least not over his torso, anyway. Which Tim supposes shouldn’t be a surprise, but certainly is something he’s noticing right now.

He can’t even decide if he’s hoping for him to be wearing underwear or not. He should be hoping for him to be wearing it, given they’re here to try on clothes and that’s therefore kind of necessary, but . . .

Kon strips the rest of his suit off. He is, unfortunately, wearing boxer briefs. Very small and very tight boxer briefs, but boxer briefs all the same. Tim tries not to stare at Kon’s ass and then immediately encounters the larger problem of accidentally looking at Kon’s reflection in the changing room mirror, which offers the opportunity to stare at other things that belong to Kon. Like his chest. And his abs. And his Adonis belt and–

Fuck his life, Tim thinks feelingly, barely resisting the urge to cover his eyes before he can embarrass himself. He’s already embarrassing himself; it is way too damn late for anything like that to help.

“What should I try on first?” Kon asks. Tim, in mute panic, grabs the first thing off the top of the pile and shoves it at him. Kon, unfortunately, accepts it.

More unfortunately, it turns out to be a very clingy black T-shirt with a very deep V-neck. Kon doesn't have actual cleavage, obviously, but that T-shirt has not gotten the memo.

And apparently neither have his pecs.

Fuck, Tim thinks with great feeling, still barely resisting the urge to cover his eyes. Fuuuuuck.

“Hmmm,” Kon says, tugging at the dip of the V-neck with a finger. “What do you think? My color or naw?”

Tim is suffering. There is a hell and he is currently in it, right here and now.

“Black isn’t a particularly daring color choice, most people look good in it,” he says, clearing his throat. “The fit’s nice, though.”

“Fair enough,” Kon says, plucking at the collar again and then stripping the shirt off. While facing Tim. Directly. So Tim therefore has a front-row seat to his bare abs stretching and flexing and–

Jesus. Just–Jesus.

“Next?” Kon asks, holding out an expectant hand and smirking at him.

Bastard.

Tim, in vengeance, hands over the leather pants. It immediately backfires, because Kon just smirks wider and steps right into them, and in fact the process of watching Kon get into leather pants is . . . well, it's a fucking process, alright. And then Tim is alone in a changing room with a shirtless Kon in very tight leather pants and absolutely no one else around to interrupt. Not a single convenient supervillain attack to be seen.

Fuck, Tim reflects with great feeling.

“Guess this still isn’t a very daring color choice, huh?” Kon asks, tugging casually at his own waistband. Tim's teeth would also like to do that, please. Like. He has never done that to anyone's waistband in his life, but he would like to start. Right now, ideally. “Maybe I should've gone for something else.”

“They look alright,” Tim says, desperately trying not to choke and die. He may or may not have had to put one of the shopping bags in his lap. Kon seems unconcerned and just twists to check out his ass in the mirror. His ass which is in very tight black leather. With belts. And buckles.

And straps.

Tim is disproportionately fixated on the straps, maybe.

“Take a picture, it'll last longer,” Kon tells him with a smug grin.

“I . . . kinda want to?” Tim admits helplessly, then winces at himself. Oh, that was the literal opposite of smooth. Kon laughs anyway, though.

“Oh do you now,” he purrs teasingly. “Is that why you were so concerned about getting me a phone with a good camera, pretty boy?”

“. . . technically it only matters if my phone has a good camera in that situation,” Tim points out, and Kon actually pouts at him. It’s clearly a put-on, since he’s still half-smirking, but it’s a pout all the same.

“Aw, you don't want me to send you any pics, Tim?” he asks.

Tim might be, like, dead now. That might be a thing. He might just be dead.

“Uh,” he says, blinking rapidly a few times in a desperate attempt to make his brain do literally anything but go down that particular avenue.

“These are a little tight, though,” Kon muses casually as he looks back down to the pants in the mirror, and then smooths a hand down his thigh because he apparently wants Tim to die. The bright fluorescent lights glint across his earring and make those inhumanly blue eyes even more undeniably inhumanly blue, and also make all his muscle definition all very, very visible.

Technically, Kon has muscles like these because he's a genetically-enhanced half-alien who's all jacked up on solar power. Tim is perfectly aware of that fact. A normal unenhanced human being built like this would probably need an assist from steroids and a ridiculously-specialized diet and to basically never leave the gym. And also probably they'd be at least a little bit dehydrated, to look this cut.

Tim can tell himself all that all that he likes, but Kon still looks like the bodybuilder edition of Playgirl right now.

“Since when do you mind tight?” he asks.

“I don't,” Kon says, sparing him another smirk. “But if I didn't make sure to keep my TTK on them 24/7, they'd probably rip. Leather's a little less forgiving than spandex, you know?”

Tim is fairly sure Kon said some words after “rip”, but fuck if he could tell anyone. He couldn't tell anyone with a gun to his head. He couldn't tell Batman.

Fucking hell.

“Then I'll buy you another pair,” he says reflexively. Kon laughs, ducking his head. He is still shirtless. Very, very shirtless.

“Man, I don't care what you think you owe me, you cannot possibly wanna buy me this much stuff,” he says.

Tim tries to figure out how to say “you're my teammate and ally and you deserve to be somewhere safe and taken care of and have everything you need” without actually saying “you're my teammate and ally and you deserve to be somewhere safe and taken care of and have everything you need”. It's difficult, mostly because the alternate and equally true answer is “I think I'm kind of getting off on this, actually”. Which is actually kind of weird and questionable of him even if Kon is flirting with him and acting kind of–

Yeah, he really needs to stop being weird about this.

“I have the money,” he says reasonably. “It’s not any harder for me than using your powers is for you. And I like doing it.”

“You like doing it?” Kon says, tilting his head. Possibly Tim should’ve phrased that differently. Or just not said it at all, more like.

“Yeah,” he says, then quickly changes the subject in self-defense. “And you did me a favor. I want to pay it back.”

“There’s ‘paying it back’ and there’s ‘signing a lease’, man,” Kon says, raising an eyebrow at him. “Like, you offered me an apartment.”

“If you’d let me I’d give you a fully-furnished apartment, bills and expenses, and an allowance,” Tim says wryly, and belatedly realizes that last one maybe sounds a little bit patronizing or weird when Kon–pauses.

“An allowance?” he repeats, just barely frowning.

“Yes,” Tim says, because fuck it, he’s committed now and trying to backtrack would just make it more awkward. If he acts like that was a normal offer to make, maybe Kon will buy it. It’s not like he doesn’t know his initial socialization and education came from a bunch of weird nerds in a lab. “You know, rent and bills and groceries and a little extra, so you don’t have to call me up every time you want something.”

“Because I saved your life?” Kon says, fidgeting with the button of his pants for a moment. Tim pretends not to notice. Pretends very hard not to notice. It’s . . . arguably a success. Maybe.

“Yes,” Tim lies. Kon’s saved his life plenty of times; it’s really not relevant to wanting to see him actually properly taken care of and not just ditched in a lab without any damn windows in it.

Seriously. Kon is solar-powered and Cadmus is underground. What advantage-taking idiots thought he belonged there?

“Just that?” Kon asks, biting his lip. Tim . . . pauses.

That’s a weird question, he thinks. It is, right?

He’s not sure how to answer it. He lies to Batman, so that’s not a concern, but . . .

But.

“Not just that,” he says after a moment, and just . . . doesn’t elaborate. Kon reddens a little, and then, weirdly, smiles a little. Tim does his damnedest to deal with the sight of him half-in civilian clothes and looking very, very touchable. Just–very close and touchable. He could just . . . reach right out. And touch him.

Kon’s just . . . very close right now, is all. Like . . . very, very close.

Fuck.

“Hi,” Kon says with a little smile, then steps forward right in-between Tim’s knees still half-dressed in black leather and belts and buckles and straps. Tim almost falls off the bench.

“Hi?” he tries. He very suddenly feels like he might be cooking in his own skin and maybe needs a couple decades to recover before he actually does die here. Because he definitely feels like he's about to die right now, oh god. Did Ivy pollen the mall? Maybe Ivy pollened the mall. Maybe–

Kon leans down over him and into his personal space, and Tim ends up with his back pressed against the changing room wall.

Nope, never mind. This is all him. This is exclusively a Tim problem. All Tim all the way. All Tim all the time.

Fuuuuuck.

“Uh,” he chokes in mortification, feeling his face absolutely burn. Kon braces a hand against the wall and very literally bats his eyes at him, the fucking bastard. He is . . . so attractive. So, so attractive. Like every kind of attractive Tim can currently envision and then some. Why is he so attractive? Why is he this far up in Tim’s space? Why is he–

Oh, fuck, Tim thinks.

“Oh my god, I in no way meant to make you think this was, like, a condition or–!” he starts to sputter in horror, and Kon cuts him off by putting a hand on his shoulder and pushing him up tighter against the wall with a very, very pleased smirk.

“Shut up and kiss me, you weird little nerd,” he says, and then leans in close enough to be kissed, his eyes soft and half-lidded and mouth still curved into that same pleased smirk. Tim’s brain shorts out entirely. Tim’s brain effectively electrocutes itself, actually.

Oh god, he thinks feebly.

He can’t kiss Kon, obviously. That would be a very stupid thing to actually do. Flirting and joking around is one thing, but actually kissing him . . .

Kon bites his lip, a little flicker of uncertainty reflecting in his eyes. Tim has been in literal death traps that were less upsetting than that little flicker.

“Okay,” he manages, useless and breathless, and then–like an idiot–kisses him.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #young just us #young justice #long post #rinfic #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

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navybrat817 · 8 months

Note

Aggressively texting Bucky: "How dare you be this fucking cute?!"

Seriously! How is he so cute?!

A Couple of Cuties

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky's cute. He knows it. You know it. You just need to admit it. Word Count: 1.2k Warnings: Flirting, tension, banter, implied sexy times, Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) A/N: Happy Sinday! Set in the same universe as The Rejects. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You weren't sure how game nights became your thing with Bucky. Maybe it was because it was how the two of you got together. You looked forward to them, especially since they had a tendency to end the same way: The "loser" of a chosen game stripping and the "winner" eventually losing their clothes, too. Both of you were winners by the time you got to bed or the nearest surface he felt like taking you on. Tonight would be no exception.

If you didn't smack him first.

"It's cute that you think I'm cute. Nothing wrong with that."

You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow at Bucky. He had his signature panty-dropping smirk on his face as he stared back at you from across the table. It was a battle of wills and you were determined not to blink. You refused to let him win. And you refused to acknowledge his cuteness.

I won't think about his adorable smile or his sweet laugh when I crack a joke or the way his eyes go soft when I catch him staring.

"When did I say you're cute?" You asked, finally blinking when you had to. He still hadn't, his deep blue eyes laser focused as he stared.

Of course, he beat me. Damn super soldier and his skills. How the hell can anyone go that long without blinking?

"You say it with your eyes and your smile, just like I say it to you," he replied, holding his phone up as you raised your chin defiantly. Even though his words made your heart swell, you didn’t let it show out of sheer stubbornness. "You also sent me a text. Would you like me to read it to you?"

"I don't need you to-"

"How dare you be this fucking cute?!" he read, trying and failing to imitate your voice.

I sound nothing like that. And I regret hitting "send" on that text message.

"You think because the text came from my phone that I sent it? How do you know Nat or someone didn't take my phone? I mean, face it, you have no proof that I'm the one who sent that message," you said, checking your nails to avoid his gaze. "Maybe someone wanted to give you an ego boost. Not like you need one, but good for them for the effort."

The adorable nose scrunch was out in full force as he laughed and you no doubt had hearts in your eyes as the sound bounced off the walls. The fact that he could relax around you after he faced so many horrors was a wonderful feeling. "Nat has never called me cute and I'm pretty sure she was with Steve when I got this message," he pointed out as he leaned across the table and booped you on the nose with a vibranium finger when you lifted your gaze. "But you think I'm cute and I think that's adorable."

"I'm sorry, but did Sergeant Barnes just boop my nose? You actually booped my nose. We may have to take your badass card away and replace it with a ‘boop boop’."

"No deflecting and badasses can still give and receive boops," he said as he settled back in his chair. "You sent the message. We both know it."

"I did not," you stated.

Bucky licked his lips, drawing your attention to them. You wanted to feel them against yours. You needed them on your skin and between your legs. "You did."

"I did not," you repeated, your voice steady as his gaze moved down to your chest. Can a man actually touch you with his eyes? Logic told you it was physically impossible, but it didn’t stop your body from imagining that he could do so.

"You did, but do you know what's cuter?” He asked, leaning back as he grasped the bottom of his blue Henley and pulled it over his head. “You in my clothes.”

“It’s cute when I’m wearing your clothes?” You questioned, catching the garment as he tossed it your way. The whiff of his cologne made you shiver, along with something that had to come from the serum. You noticed that Steve had a hint of a similar scent to Bucky, but the Captain’s didn’t make your heart race the way the former Winter Soldier’s did. “I was going for sexy.”

“It’s very sexy,” he promised, the praise heating up your skin before he gestured to himself. “But if you don’t admit that I’m cute, you won’t get any of this tonight.”

It was your turn to laugh as you swapped out your top for Bucky’s, watching his eyes darken as you slipped it on. You did look good in his clothes. “You’re going to withhold sex from me? Please. I have a toy with your name on it that’ll do the job just fine.”

Your boyfriend smiled at your words. “Aww. You named a toy after me? That’s flattering. Do you call him Bucky? James? Sergeant? Don’t hold back on me, doll. I wanna know the details.”

“You know, the text was your fault since you decided to send me a selfie,” you defended yourself, changing the subject. It was a cute photo of him. One of many. Of course, you had to say something.

“Maybe I can fuck you with the toy first,” he suggested, your inhale sharp and quick as his voice dropped. It didn’t take long for you to feel his hand on your knee, moving dangerously slow up your leg. “Because you look so cute right before you let go. Your mouth falls open slightly and the sweetest little whine slips out. And almost a look of surprise when you gush around me, like no one else has ever made you come so hard.”

No one else ever has.

“I take it back. You’re not cute. You’re the devil,” you argued breathlessly as your legs parted, allowing his hand to glide up more.

“If I’m the devil, come and sin with me,” he smirked, his hand stopping just before it reached the middle of your thighs. “And for you to take it back is an admission that you do think I’m cute. But if you won't say it...”

“Fine, you smug bastard! I admit it. I sent it because you’re cute. You’re fucking adorable. Living proof that you can be a beast and a sweetheart,” you said as he grinned, grasping his wrist and bringing his hand to your clothed core, the fabric soaked thanks to him. “And thanks to you, I’m all wet. So either do something about it or no game nights for a month.”

His nostrils flared, knowing it wasn’t just a threat. You also knew there was no way in hell he could last that long without your game nights. He cherished them just as much as you did. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would. I can play with my toy in the meantime if you’re not up for the job,” you smirked, grinding slowly against his hand. “Cutie.”

You would tell Bucky later just how cute he looked when he knocked the table out of the way to get to you. He would make sure you weren’t sore since he fucked you on the floor. It was endearing how much he cared for your well-being.

You expected nothing less from a cutie like Bucky Barnes.

These two. 😂 I hope you lovelies liked it! Love and thanks for reading. 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky banres fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x female!reader #biteofcherry

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pluvialpoet · 17 days

Text

bergamot

Summary: moments of quiet reflection reaffirm what you both already know to be true- he’s always going to come back, and you’re always going to be waiting with open arms

Pairing: dick grayson x fem!reader

Requested: no

Warning: idiots in love, friends to lovers, mutual pining, scarecrow's fear toxin, mentions of death and grief, slight angst, fluffy ending, loosely based off of batman: hush (2019)- but no major spoilers

Word Count: 3,930

masterlist

a/n: I know that dick has a tolerance against/is immune to scarecrow's fear toxin, but let's pretend he isn't...for the plot

Sleep is cruel in the way it continues to evade you when you crave it most. Mocking and teasing, exhaustion morphs into desperation. Even with your eyes shut dreams fail you, and nightmares taunt.

A siren wails, bellowing out into the night and echoing caution even after the initial cry has faded. Could be a police car, or an ambulance. Maybe even a fire truck. You try not to consider all of the possibilities, knowing it’ll only starve your slumber, further. With a huff, you adjust the heavy comforter, pulling it up until it bunches just under your chin.

In a few weeks, branches will be stripped of their leaves. Snow will fall, and the city will suffocate under a blanket of white. July was only yesterday, sticky and never-ending- infinite until finite. Now, January lurks around the corner- weeks away, but daunting, nevertheless.

The pillow tucked behind your back is a poor imitation of the brawn you wish feathers and fill could replicate, just as the one pressed to your chest acts as an imposter mimicking the body meant to be sleeping peacefully beside you. It’s impossible to tell feelings of loneliness apart from being alone, and deep down you know that reminiscence is merciless. Memory is wicked. But you can’t help remembering. It’s the only way you won’t forget- and even then, so much time has passed that you’ve begun to fade, and he’s begun to blur. Spiraling further and further away from reality and control, you drift towards hope, feeding each dangerous possibility until you have nothing left to give, but delusion takes and takes and takes…

Answers elude like comfort- and sleep. When, how, and why is lost upon you. He’s been gone for so long. Even so, your life has continued, evolving to accommodate the gaps he used to fill. Though, it’s about as effective as papier-mâchéing an open wound shut. Everywhere you look, everything you do, every time you shut your eyes, he finds a way to bleed into you, one way or another, and you welcome it every single time. All you really have are memories and a space in your bed which has always been his to come home to.

Outside, the wind howls. Angry and violent, the sound rattles the windowpane and you burrow deeper into the covers trying to block it out. Shadows dance across the ceiling, but none of them belong to the ghost you’ve been waiting for. Another frustrated huff fails to quell burning exhaustion, and you rub your eyes with the back of your hand before checking the clock next to you. Neon green flashes, all too pleased to report that it’s well past midnight and you haven’t gotten a wink of sleep. Already tomorrow, and you’re still mourning today.

Pushing the covers off, you shiver. There’s a chill in the air and little comfort to be found in the fact that the entire apartment feels cold and empty without him in it. At least it’s not just the bed. It’s the entire room, the hallway, and the kitchen, too. You reach for the light above the stove and begin to search the cupboards for a mug. If nothing else, at least a cup of tea will warm you up. Thanks to muscle memory, you act on autopilot, filling the ceramic with water and placing it in the microwave before picking a teabag and waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting, always waiting. Three monotone beeps call your attention back before it has another chance to wander away from you, and you retrieve the cup and place the teabag inside. Steeping time be damned.

You can’t wait any longer.

One leg curls under the other as you take a seat and bring the mug to your mouth. It burns the tip of your tongue, a small price to pay for your greed, and you swallow the too-hot liquid regardless of the consequences. The pain barely registers, anyway. With both palms pressed to the vessel, warmth finally finds you, and a barely contented huff passes your lips to blow the steam from the cup. It’s not always like this. It’s not supposed to be, but for so long, it has been. Never months, always weeks. You don’t know how to do this or how much longer you can put yourself through this torture when every sunrise twists the knots in your stomach tighter and tighter. How much longer until you snap?

You’re so tangled up in your suffering that you miss it the first time, until the hair on the back of your neck bristles. Did you imagine it? Silently, you wait, setting the steaming mug down to listen, and this time, you hear it. Faintly, but there. Real.

Tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap tap tap.

I’m here. I’m safe. Can I come in?

Your feet move before the rest of your body does, and the chair scrapes loudly across the hardwood as you jump from it in shock. A cocktail of excitement, worry, disbelief, and fear bubbles and swirls through you when you spot a familiar glimpse of black and blue through the window near the fire escape.

“Dick?”

Crossing the room without any memory of doing so, you fiddle with the latch that keeps you from him, and him from you, until finally it clicks. With only one foot through the window, you reach for him, desperate to savor the illusion until mass, warmth and a heartbeat prove it to be real. Upon realizing, your breath hitches. He’s real. He’s real, and he’s here. No longer a dream. No longer a nightmare. No longer a vision only sleep can grant or mold, he stands before you. He takes a moment to properly slide the window shut behind him, returning the lock to its rightful position- keeping the rest of the world and the winter, out- before turning to face you once more. He can’t even get a word out before you’re pressed against him, wrapping your arms around him and holding yourself back from crushing him with the intensity of your longing. Overly cautious of injuries you can’t physically see- mindful of bruises, tears of flesh, and wounds that remain eclipsed by kevlar and moonlight- you embrace him with a hesitancy that severely undermines your fervor. Holding him gently- delicately, tenderly- the way you’ve dreamt about entwining with him on nights when sleep has been generous instead of cruel, you finally look up at him.

A sigh of relief dispels the hoarded tension in your neck, shoulders, and chest when you rest your head against his chest and inhale. Sweat and copper muddle his natural scent, but even when he’s covered in his victories, even when he’s drenched in his defeats, he still smells like home- warm, safe, familiar, and comforting.

He hesitates to envelop you with the same thinly veiled desperation, holding himself back.

Every muscle in his body carries the strain of battles fought and won. His head throbs with the force of his thoughts, and the inescapable dizziness that always accompanies crashing down from a high. Then again, he’s never been one to ease into things gracefully. Tiny cuts and scrapes, angry blacks and blues, and even gaping gashes that are still seeping and tender to the touch hardly register as anything other than a stinging, burning sensation. Everything is dull. Ferocity and intensity both subdued. Through the haze of everything that competes for his attention, you’re the one thing that’s clear. As always, the hold you have on him, both physical and metaphorical, brings him back to his senses, but doubt keeps him withdrawn.

Warily wrapping his arms around you, Dick returns the gesture as best as he can. Cages built of muscle, meant to keep you close, refuse to lock you in place, and he finds it increasingly difficult to resist surrendering to you entirely. Just as his nerves begin to settle they spike once more when the gravity of the past few months finally begins to sink in. As you continue to tremble in his arms, he swallows a lump in his throat and fights the urge to hold you impossibly closer. If he weren’t so afraid, he’d never let go again. But he’s not the same man he was the last time you saw him. Having seen too much, he knows that he can’t let this become something more. Fear is rotten. He’s seen the future, and if he keeps leaning on you then he’s only going to drag you down with him. Regardless of what he really wants, he won’t let this become something more, but then he looks down at you in his shirt and realizes it’s always been something more- and it terrifies him more than anything.

When pink swirls around the drain- a muted severity of soapy lather and remnants of crusted, oozing red- he rests his forehead against the cold tiles and lets out a deep sigh. He can’t remember the last time he’d had a proper shower. Under the trickling scorch, he allows his shoulders to slump forward, letting the too-hot water soothe his muscles like a balm, and it stings in a way he welcomes- a reminder that he’s done it again, he’s survived the worst and now he just has to survive the recovery.

He’s never been good with the after, always losing himself in possibilities of what comes next without taking a minute to catch his breath, but he’s trying to be better. He owes it to you. Not only you but himself, too- but mostly you. So, he tries to forget. He pushes memories too fresh to be forgotten somewhere else, banishing them to the far corners of his mind and locking them away until he’s ready to face his demons at his own pace, on his own terms, but his wicked creations fight back. Even when they’re crafted from delusions, mirroring real-life counterparts with a precision too exact to be a figmented replication, he finds himself engaged in an internal match that never crowns a victor. It’s a conflict that never ceases, even after his own surrender. Still, he’s found that the intrusions are less when copper is overpowered by citrus, and when red, inevitably swirls into pink.

Steam amplifies the smell of sweat and body odor, so pungent that the only word to describe it is bad, and he holds his breath while he reaches for your soap once more. He can’t believe you let him anywhere near you. It’s even more unfathomable that you sought an embrace, despite the remnants of battle that’ve woven themselves into his being- lingering, even long after. He’s repulsed by that which exposes him, a stench so strong that it serves as a testament to the fact that he reclaimed you as soon as he could, coming right back to this haven of sorts without any prior stops, and his stomach churns uncomfortably, the once soothing mist tainting each attempt at air, and a weight teases the aching muscles of his chest which breath does not alleviate.

Through the haze, he sees the truth- when reality remains undistorted by the tricks of his own want and longing, he recognizes fact without his own warped perceptions of fantasy- and he realizes just how careless he’s been. By allowing desire to suade better judgment, he’s put you at risk. Guilt punishes with an onslaught of emotions ranging from frustration to anger, sadness to grief, and even regret to sorrow. His own reluctance to accept how dangerous it was, and always has been, to lean on your affections as a crutch has finally caught up to him. After all that he’s seen, after everything he’s been forced to bear witness to over the past few months, coupled with a lifetime of loss, he’s no longer able to ignore the thought that’s broken free from the shackles of elsewhere. What was once dull, always there but never really forgotten, has become intense and persistent.

Every time he finds his way back to you, he invites peril into your life. He’s hazardous. Even if he’s not, being attached to him- in any way- puts you at an even greater risk of endangerment. Trying to justify something even as tame as a friendship is absurd. You’re so much more than that. Whether he meant for it to happen or not, you’ve found a place within his heart. Every beat echoes your name and carries secrets of his devotion. All that remains of the walls meant to protect both of you is rubble, and Dick stands alone in the epicenter of the aftermath, unsure and torn between chaos and order. Selfishly, he wants. Greedily, he craves. Morally, he knows that he should just walk away- but he can’t.

The scene shifts, ceramic tile falling away to reveal an eerie, yet familiar boneyard, and he shakes his head. It’s not real. It was never real- but it was so vivid. Cold fog obscures his vision, and he closes his eyes. This is a trick. This isn’t truth. He knows what comes next. Forced to indulge in his worst nightmares, the shrill, piercing sound of your terror renders him numb. He can’t move. Paralyzed, he fights limbs of lead, but he can’t act. It surrounds him, your agony, and he can’t do anything to save you. He can’t protect you. With each cry of his name, you plead, but there’s nothing he can do. When silence follows his ragged breaths, he refuses to look down. He hates this part the most, but he doesn’t have a choice. Crimson stains the black and blue weave, and he can taste metallic. He doesn’t have any control over this hallucination, born and bred from his greatest fear, and all he can do is witness the fallout of your shared torture- your blood on his hands, his body slumped against your tombstone, and the triumphant laughter of a clown, a scarecrow, a ventriloquist, and a hundred more that delight in your demise.

He can’t catch his breath. Drifting further and further away from reality, he struggles to claw his way back towards the light. When his vision begins to fade, he reaches for more soap. In for three counts, out for four. In for three counts, and out for four, again, Dick feels lightheaded. There’s no limit to how far he’d go to keep you safe, not a single rule or code he wouldn’t break to protect you from anything and everything- and that’s an entirely different threat, in and of itself. His loyalty has the potential to become his ruin, and he’d let it- for your sake- but would that be enough? Could his devotion be enough to keep you safe from the otherwise brutal fate that awaits you with, and without, his intervention?

The bite of a washrag leaves his skin raw. Lost to his thoughts, he’s been mindlessly scrubbing away at his flesh, dousing himself with bubbled distraction. Another breath fails to alleviate his unease. All he can think about is that which is out of his control, and he can’t help but wonder, is there even a chance for the two of you?

Every thought is a contradiction.

He could wax poetic to Bruce about love- how precious and fragile and conscious it is- but he can’t even bring himself to act upon his own advice. Even worse than following in a denialist’s footsteps is being a hypocrite, but there are just too many variables for him to take into account- too many what-ifs and maybe’s that enable him to cower behind words left unspoken.

In spite of this, he dares to dream of a future where you’re his and he’s yours, and nothing else matters. Lost to his delusions, a smile threatens to work muscles that’ve remained dormant for months of disuse. It hurts. Stretching, pulling, and manipulating his face to actually convey what he’s feeling instead of trying to veil it, hurts. However, the worst pain follows. As he reaches for the illusion, it slips through his fingers- so close he can almost hold it, yet just out of reach, simultaneously- and just like that, reality distorts the mirage. Pried from him, ripped away and sporting his claw marks, what could’ve been remains what could’ve been- and it’s all his fault.

Fear suppresses his love.

He’s already lost so much, he can’t lose this, too. He won’t. However glutinous, he craves more- even when he knows he can’t have it, he wants with a desire that’s almost too strong to ignore. Almost. Locking his feelings away, he throws away the key, but his ribs begin to expand with the intensity of his longing, and his chest feels tight. This isn’t like before. It seems as if his secrets have outgrown their cages, and he finds himself at a crossroads. His mind begins to drift and he wonders if this agony is why Bruce kept Selina at arm’s length…

A sigh, and a revelation- he’s not Bruce, and you’re not Selina.

Dick’s been going about this all wrong. Despite everything he’s been taught about love and loss, he’s allowed a life outside of a domino mask and kevlar. He deserves to cherish someone, to protect and devote himself to something other than his work- someone to fight for, someone to come home to- and he deserves to be beloved, too. Even if only for tonight. Even if tomorrow isn’t promised and all you have is right now, you’re here. On the other side of the frosted glass screen and plaster, you’re waiting for him. Another smile, less forced and genuine, feels like a relief instead of a burden. His skin pebbles under the frigid stream left in the wake of molten steam. With a shiver, he seeks your warmth, reaching for the faucet and stepping out of the enclosure.

A worn shirt rests atop the counter, the fabric faded from years of wear and wash, folded neatly beneath a pair of fresh boxers and socks likely left behind from the last time, or the time before that, or even the time before…truth be told, he thought he’d lost it, misplaced it, or given it away. Of course, you’ve had it in your care, all along. The corner of his mouth threatens to twitch into a smile. Slipping the towel from around his waist, he begins to dress, wondering when you managed to sneak in without him hearing you. The door used to creak, and he realizes that you must have fixed it while he was gone. It’s hard not to think about what else might’ve changed since the last time he saw you. Would you have stayed with him, if he asked you to? You always have. Six years and counting, he muses if you always will…

His hair is getting long, again. Droplets fall from the overgrown strands at the base of his neck down his back, making him shiver and reach for his towel once more. He pats his hair down, ruffling it with the towel a few times before wiping away at the mirror. Making eye contact with his reflection he’s the first to look away. He’s looked worse and supposes that's a small win in and of itself, though he can’t stand the sight of himself any longer than he has to. A deep exhale and a shake of his head diverts his attention to the countertop where a spare toothbrush has been left out for him to use. Of course, he already knows where the toothpaste is. He helps himself with a growing smile and places it in the holder right next to yours when he’s done. His chest expands with something he can’t quite name when he finds himself surrounded by gentle reminders of your care. A small cup of water and painkillers act as physical embodiments of your thoughtfulness and he revels in the knowledge that you’re letting him know you’re there for him while giving him space to come down from whatever adrenaline rush the past few months have spiked. It’s in those silent gestures of love that he hears it the loudest, echoing and amplifying all around him.

It must be killing you to act so selflessly, and he tries not to be selfish with your affections, but it’s difficult not to feel like a burden when you’ve rearranged more than just a spot on the counter, or a place for him to keep his toothbrush next to yours, for him- giving him a home without expecting anything else in return.

Down the hall, the mattress protests against his arrival, angry springs squeaking from months of disuse before welcoming his weight and warmth on the side opposite of yours- his side, from the very moment, years ago, when he found his way back to you after a night that left him bloody and beaten but not broken. Never broken- not when he’s always had you. Though most memory of the first evening spent beside you remains a blur, the ability to recall details and specifics stolen from him as his wounds wept crimson tears that stained your hands and upholstery, fondness prevails. Despite robbed recollections, tender warmth, and affection remain. Even then, he knew. Without really knowing, without certainty, he was certain- he loved you, and you loved him, and every gentle, devoted gesture has always reaffirmed the one thing he could never doubt. Every silent offering, every selfless sacrifice, and piece of yourself that you’ve surrendered to him further insists that your heart acts in favor of three words never spoken.

His arm finds your waist easily, and he’s grateful that he doesn’t have to tiptoe around his reluctance to accept what this is, anymore. Not when you’re here. Not when you’re waiting so patiently for him, and snuggle back into his hold the moment he reaches out for you. Some limbs tangle, but not yours- the two of you fit perfectly together, like you were truly meant to be, and the moment that you’re allowed to converge, you press your palm flat against his arm, holding him close to you.

Reacquainting yourself with him after is always your favorite part. Though, your heart cleaves when your fingertips ghost over a new scar- the skin still raised and angry, even if the wound has closed. With something akin to sympathy, an apology for the pain he’s suffered that you can’t take away, you gently trace the new mark in acknowledgment.

Tomorrow, or later today, when the sunlight illuminates the sky, you’ll ask him about it. Or, maybe you won’t. When the first glimpses of warm light threaten to spill over the horizon, you might get answers to the questions you’ve spent the last few months pondering. Or, perhaps everything unasked will remain unresolved. Either way, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is the fact that tonight, you’ll sleep- safe and protected, at ease and engulfed by all things him- and even if it only lasts for the night, you’ll cherish whatever small moments of intimacy the moon grants before the sun, inevitably, rips them away- a fate you’ve grown to expect, time and time again.

Still, you let your eyes flutter shut, basking in the silence for only a moment before it’s interrupted.

“I love you,” Dick confesses softly, words warm and whispered against your shoulder encouraged by a fleeting moment of courage- and the tender caress of your touch- that prompt the secret to spill from his chest, an accident he fears he may have to render excuses for to salvage whatever broken pieces are left of this unspoken relationship.

“I know,” With your back towards him he misses the stretch of a smile ghosting your lips, and finds himself tensing behind you. Could you have really known? All this time? Is that why he always comes back? Is that why you let him? “I love you, too,”

“No, I mean, I really lo-“

“Tell me in the morning, yeah?” You suggest before he can get too far ahead of himself. Torn between wanting to clarify his confession and realizing that maybe he doesn’t have to, Dick relents. He can’t really argue, anyway- having kept this to himself for so many years, another few hours won’t hurt. With a breath- of acceptance, not defeat or surrender- he closes his eyes and finally relaxes into your embrace.

It’s over.

For now, Dick can rest easy knowing that when the smell of bergamot fades, this tacit love will always remain, and he finds enough comfort in the realization to let it lull him into a peaceful sleep.

a/n: I love him so much!!! this has been rotting in my brain for nearly a year and I just found it in my drafts last night lol! anyway, this started as a challenge to myself where I wanted to see if I could write something with only five lines of dialogue, and I'm curious to hear how you all think it turned out! as always, requests are open! check out my request guidelines before submitting! and if you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading!

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