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mappingthesky · 4 months

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not a prompt necessarily but I’m always down for planymphia angst 🙏🙏🙏

in response to multiple asks i’ve received for planymphia angst… here is this <3

i know baby, no attachment

None of this had been in the plan.

It was the first thing they’d talked about that first night in Jane’s apartment; Neither of them were looking for anything serious. They were both unavailable, incapable of making any promises. Not now. Not yet. It would be clean, simple, no strings attached. Just two people using each other. Innocently, admittedly using each other, but using each other nonetheless.

They’d been on the couch in Jane’s dimly lit apartment. Jane was an obvious sort of gorgeous. It was the first thing Nymphia had noticed about her, what drew her in on that first night they’d met: she’d been wearing something meant to lure you in, hypnotized by the clinging of her clothes to her body, the wave of her hair, her eyes tightlined and sharpened like knives. Jane was almost lethal to look at, all done up and primed to kill; the most magnetic friend-of-a-friend Nymphia had ever been introduced to. She was somehow even more gorgeous now, sitting on the couch in her casual clothes, her face aglow in the light of the television, her auburn hair pulled up into a messy top knot. She was painfully, effortlessly attractive, and, much to Nymphia’s surprise, only so much of a smooth talker. She came off suave at first, all punchlines and quick remarks, but after a while Nymphia could start to see her thinking. Jane would be in the middle of a sentence, flying through it, hurtling towards some revelation, and then she’d catch herself. She’d pause, freeze on a word and scoff at it, like she was considering whether whatever she was about to say would be worth the sentiment. And then she’d go a bit shy, averting her eyes and playing with the pilling on the upholstery, giving away just how carefully considered she was. And just when Nymphia was starting to think that Jane was completely nervous to her core, that Nymphia might actually have the upper hand in this situation, Jane would bring it back. She’d pick her head up and let the words go, say something so stunningly direct and devastating. It left Nymphia a little breathless, a little too endeared, a little too eager to kiss her.

They could have guessed at the chemistry, but it didn’t come close to the real thing.

What happened when Jane’s skin hit Nymphia was the sort of collision that produced suns and planets and supernovas, flinging particles off into space with enough pressure to form entire worlds. Nymphia could practically see the stars behind her eyes, fluttering shut when Jane was hovering above her, hand between her legs, finding some undiscovered place that Nymphia didn’t know had been there all along, waiting to be found. Jane turned Nymphia’s body into something more than it was before, transforming her irrevocably. Jane was a comet crashing through her atmosphere, and Nymphia was awe-struck, staring at the sky and watching the sparks shower. You can’t be prepared for such life-altering things, it's what makes them so devastating.

What neither of them could have predicted was the ease of what came after - the lying in bed, talking about it. The debrief. Nymphia was a bit too happily fucked, and unwilling to share the extent of her satisfaction. She was worried she would come off easy, inexperienced somehow. Jane, however, was endlessly attentive. She wanted Nymphia’s experience of the encounter, all the details - what she liked, what satisfied her the most, what she wanted more of. Her sheer desire to please was enough to pull the details out of Nymphia. She was rewarded when Jane allowed her to relive it, this time through Jane’s eyes. Jane’s gaze was far off with remembering, a smile playing at her lips as she recounted her experience of Nymphia in such erotic detail, every telling arch and shudder, and the whole thing was so overwhelmingly flattering that it sort of made Nymphia want to do it all over again.

Nymphia had known better than to pack an overnight bag. She thought she had, anyway.

Her eyes were closed and she was nearly asleep when she’d mumbled, ‘I should be going soon.”

Jane just chuckled. “You’re half asleep already.” Her fingers trailed up the curve of Nymphia’s thigh. “Just spend the night. If you want to.”

Nymphia's eyes were suddenly open, “Yeah?” Jane traced stars onto her hip.

“Mhm,” Jane hummed, eyes flickering up, then back to the curve of Nymphia’s waist.

Nymphia closed her eyes, savored in the feeling of Jane on her skin. A long moment passed.

“D’you cuddle? Or is that against the rules.”

Jane’s hum was an amused look at you asking so soon. She was already pulling Nymphia to her chest.

That first night turned into a three-day sleepover, because of course it did. Nymphia and Jane stretched themselves over the long arc of the weekend, sharing the sort of welcome, unexpected ease that you can’t put down, the kind that you’ll happily destroy your routine over and resign yourself to picking up the pieces after the fact. One weekend became another, and then occasional nights at Nymphia’s apartment with the door shut and her duvet crumpled at the end of the bed. And then they added the weekday rendezvous: Nymphia meeting Jane at her place after work on Thursday evenings, promising not to keep her up late and failing miserably, leaning her head on Jane’s shoulder in the morning as she locked the door on her way out. And then Nymphia was bleeding into Jane’s week, her Tuesdays and Wednesdays, her breakfasts and dinners, her late-night ice cream cravings and subsequent walks to 7-11. And then it was all too regular: Nymphia and Jane, Jane and Nymphia.

It's been a few months now, and there are so many things Nymphia loves about Jane.

She loves how Jane drives with one hand on her thigh, or with her fingers in her mouth. How she looks over to the passenger seat with that special look that's reserved just for Nymphia, and makes her feel like the only person she's ever wanted. She loves how she listens to her music loud, sings along when she’s drunk and tossing her hair, or when it's Sunday morning and she’s at the stove and there’s a record spinning in the living room. Nymphia loves how unabashed Jane is, how bold. How she never hesitates when it comes to the people in her life, how to be loved by Jane is to be fiercely defended by her. Nymphia loves how Jane kisses her in the middle of her sentences, especially when she's talking too much. She loves that Jane is so rough. How she can fuck her like she hates her. She loves how Jane can be so tender. How she can fuck her soft and slow, as reverent as religion. How Jane can make a mess of her, then put her back together again.

There are so many things Nymphia hates.

She hates that Jane is so impulsive, how she strikes so thoughtlessly, how she has to return to the wounds later to draw the venom out of them. How Jane is so stubborn, so set in her ways, so inflexible. How there’s two Janes - the one she’s with now, the one she is around her friends. The one who doesn’t kiss her, hardly touches her aside from a possessive arm around her shoulder or a tap on her knee. How the real Jane, Nymphia’s Jane, emerges as soon as they’re alone together, the one who will see her downturned gaze on the way home and coo what can I do, princess? Hmm? What can I do to see that pretty smile? Nymphia hates that she forgives Jane so easily, that she crumbles every time, that she loves Jane completely and entirely and beyond any measure of hurt that she could unknowingly inflict upon her.

She hates that she’s still sitting at this party, long after Jane promised they’d leave. She hates that Jane’s friends clearly like her; they laugh at Nymphia’s jokes, compliment her shoes, send knowing glances and winks across the room every time Jane so much as mentions her name. She hates how, when they ask what they are, Jane is all too quick to brush them off.

It's obvious that Nymphia’s upset by the way she pounds up the stairs, by the way she wordlessly digs through her purse for her keys, by the way the anger and the hurt and the disappointment emanate from her like poison.

“I just can’t believe they asked that,” Jane scoffs. Nymphia says nothing, gritting her teeth as she turns the key in the lock.

It should be obvious, but Jane is a bit too self-absorbed to notice.

“Like, we don’t even know what we are,” Jane says, and Nymphia feels sick, because she thought she did. “Why would she put me on the spot like that? In front of everyone?”

Nymphia pushes into the apartment, beelining for the kitchen.

“I mean, it was weird, right?” Jane continues, relentless. “Why do they need to know so bad?”

“Yeah,” Nymphia’s voice is hard, laced with venom. She chucks her keys onto the counter with a little too much force. “Why would they?”

“Right,” Jane doesn’t notice. “It would be nice if they could just let us-“

“I don’t know why they could possibly be so confused.” Nymphia interrupts, working off her thigh-highs.

Jane misses a beat. “Wait. Are you-“

“I can’t fucking imagine why they’d think that we’re together.” Nymphia lets her boots drop to the floor, one gut-wrenching smack after the other.

Jane blinks, brows knit together. Nymphia straightens up, fumbles with things on the counter that don’t need to be fumbled with. “Are you upset about this?”

“Why would I be upset?” Nymphia picks up a stray mug, sets it down again. “You just told all of your friends that we’re nothing serious. Why would I ever be upset about that, Jane?”

“I didn’t say that, Nymph,” Jane starts, already on the defense. “I said that we’re something.”

“Oh, right. My bad.” Nymphia scoffs. “We’re something. Let me know when you’re ready to illuminate me on whatever the fuck that means, Jane.”

Jane recoils at Nymphia’s profanity, unfamiliar with her frustration. She’s never seen her like this- so hurt, so ready to retaliate.

It's not funny. Jane shouldn’t laugh. She really shouldn’t, but she’s viscerally uncomfortable and horrifically unprepared for this situation, so she does anyways. “Are you really angry about this?”

The whole thing is white hot and embarrassing, and Nymphia has tears in her eyes when she turns and whips her purse to the floor.

Jane jumps. “What the fuck?” She’s wide-eyed, both hands held up in shock. “Nymphia. Are you serious right now?”

“I don’t know Jane,” Nymphia bites. “Are you serious?”

“What?”

“I kinda thought you might be,” Nymphia steps over her bag. “Y’know, because you cut me a key to your fucking apartment. I thought maybe that constituted we were more than,” she curls her fingers in the air, “something”.

Jane shakes her head, jaw tight and temple pulsing. When she speaks, it's in a lower voice, almost ashamed. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“You never want to talk about it!” Nymphia’s voice cracks, a desperate wail. Jane’s mouth opens, already halfway towards defending herself until she looks at Nymphia and sees her bottom lip quivering, the spilling over of her tears. Jane looked back with a concerned, almost panicked expression, lips frozen and slightly parted.

“Do you love me, Jane? Do you even fucking like me?”

Nymphia surprises herself with the question. She’s so amped up, so high on adrenaline that she lets it all out- the culmination of weeks of words she’d bitten back, suddenly pouring forth from where they’d been collecting in a lump in her throat.

“No, seriously, do you? Because I can’t fucking tell. I think you do, because- because you say all these beautiful things, and you spend so much time with me, and you take such good fucking care of me. So you must fucking love me, right? But when your friends ask, I have to sit there and listen to you tell them that we’re something. Like it’s so fucking confusing to you. Like it's a goddamn secret. Do you know what that feels like?”

Nymphia is fully pacing now, walking the length of the kitchen over and over again. Jane follows her with wincing, pained eyes.

What Nymphia hates, more than anything, is that she doesn’t hate Jane at all. Not for any of it.

“I’m fucking in love with you, Jane, alright?” Nymphia whines, hands whipping through the air with frustration. “I’m so in love with you, and everybody fucking knows it. Your friends, my friends, my mom, everyone! But no one seems to have any goddamn clue if you love me too. And you know what? I’m not sure if I do, either.”

When she finally expels the last of the words from the hole in her heart, Nymphia looks up through her tears. She can barely stomach the sight of Jane, lips parted and wordless, unsure of what to do with the outpouring of Nymphia’s heart. She stares at her, eyes twisted in pain, then looks to the ground, like Nymphia’s words have slid off her and collected in a puddle at her feet. Nymphia just cries, a pained and exhausted whimper on her lips as she pushes past Jane and into the living room. She collapses on one end of the couch, pulling her knees to her chest and hiding her face behind one hand, hot tears sliding down her cheeks and into her mouth.

Jane stands in the center of the room with her back turned, still facing the phantom of Nymphia’s words that may very well haunt her kitchen forever. Her head is spinning, because how the fuck did this happen. Nymphia is openly sobbing behind her, and the sound is so gut-wrenching that Jane is nauseated.

Nymphia makes a horrible, shuddering gasp for air and Jane finally breaks, crossing the room and dropping to her knees on the floor where Nymphia sits. She doesn’t even look at her, just sobs, and Jane can physically feel her heart fucking breaking.

“Nymphia,” she says, placing her palm on Nymphia’s knee. “Nymph. Hey.”

Nymphia shakes her head, face contorted with tears. She flinches at Jane’s hand like it fucking hurts, and Jane winces as the guilt slices through her. She exhales a sharp puff of defeat and drops her head in hurt.

Nymphia just cries and cries, and the reality of the situation sinks in Jane’s stomach with every sob. She’s sick to her stomach with concern, worried that Nymphia might actually fucking hyperventilate, and then she’s gently begging the girl to breathe. She goes to reach for Nymphia again and pauses, scared to reach out, scared to hurt Nymphia, scared that she’ll recoil from her again. It’s then that Jane knows, for the first time in all of her life, what she wants. She knows, right as it threatens to slip out of her hands.

“I’ve never done this before.”

Jane hears her own voice. Her words hang in the air for a moment, floating like smoke between Nymphia’s shaky, shattered breaths. Jane looks up.

“This,” she says, a tentative hand on Nymphia’s knee. “What you and I have. I’ve never-”

The words are hard for Jane to stomach. They don’t pour out like Nymphia’s do. They catch in her throat, feel wrong in her mouth. She’s not sure they’ll be enough.

“I’ve never had this with anyone,” she says. “I’ve never wanted to. Not until now.”

Nymphia wipes at her eyes, shudders a bit as her breathing quiets.

“I, um,” Jane glances down, scared to look. “I don’t know how.”

Nymphia finally looks at Jane, so small and nervous and crumbling at her feet. She wants to take her hand, to show her, to be endlessly patient even if it kills her. The desire is so enormous, even now. She almost hates herself for it.

“I know I’m fucking it up,” Jane says to the floor, her voice tiny and wavering. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that.”

“I just need to know,” Nymphia whispers.

Nymphia swallows hard, and then Jane looks up and its so fucking harrowing, so moving, because Nymphia can see the guilt in her eyes, the desire, the glimmer of words she can’t figure out how to say. She watches as she considers, catches herself, lets it go.

“I do.” Jane says. Nymphia’s heart plummets, because she knows what she means.

“I don’t want to say it now,” Jane says. “I don’t want it to be an apology. I want you to know I mean it. Is that okay?”

Nymphia nods and Jane mutters over and over I do, I do, you know I do.

It's beautiful and tragic and overwhelming, and Nymphia wants to crash into Jane, to merge together and surpass the need for words entirely. It's too soon to know yet if it's for better or for worse, only that she does it - that she reaches out and takes Jane’s hand.

“I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it.” There’s a hint of a smile on her lips, a bit of Jane laughing at herself. “But I want to try.”

Nymphia just nods and feels more tears streaming down her cheeks, and Jane’s crying too, and then they’re crashing into each other. Nymphia is leaning down and throwing her arms around Jane, who is sitting forward and clinging to her like she’s scared to let her go. Like she caught a shooting star in her bare fucking hands.

It's a whisper against her hair, but Nymphia hears it. “Can I try again?”

Nymphia could hate herself for it for all of forever. She’s prepared to. Jane doesn’t know what she’s doing, and she doesn't either. Nymphia nods anyway.

It's a new world, one of their own making. It's unexplored, uncharted, and they’re venturing into it together, hand in shaking hand. It's dangerous. She’s doing it anyway. She might hate herself for it. It might be the bravest thing she’s ever done.

#take a shot every time jane says something 3 times in a row in one of my fics #also. too many commas. AND WHAT ABOUT IT #i just want you to know i’ve had this one in mind for literal weeks #and i had it in my drafts on AO3 AND I FUCKING LET IT EXPIRE #AND THE WAY I HAD TO WRITE THIS FROM MEMORY…#i love u guys. u better be grateful <3 #WOOOO ANGSTY #with a hopeful ending #because i am sooooo nice ::)#prompt #she writes #planymphia #chappell roan inspired OFC #shoutout 2 my muse also. u inspire me #but not with angst. just with ur brilliance #OK BYE

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x-gon-give-it · 9 months

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WHOOO!

If all goes well, expect an update for “Wade Wilson’s Guide to Studying Your Spider” tomorrow!

I’ve just got a couple more edits to go and that baby will be ready for posting! 🥳🥳

#WHOO!#very excited #IVE actually had the rough draft in my folder for a week #but i had no motivation go edit it #but It’s almost here now!#the rewrite is complete #now I’ve just got 3 more editing processes to go #by this time tomorrow #it should be ready for posting!#if not tomorrow then definitely the day after!#peter parker #spider-man #spideypool #deadpool #wade wilson #writing #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my fanfic writing

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jimmyspades · 8 months

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#willow I’ve had this in my drafts for so long #I’ve thought about this tweet and burst out laughing 82738237383 times in the last three weeks #it’s SO blond #the new kids #james spader

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mischiefbuckley · 9 days

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“People who love each other are always connected by an invisible string made of love” Carla reads to Christopher through a video call as him and Eddie are cuddled up in his bed and she continues reading to them as the scene pans back to Christopher and Eddie as they are both now asleep and Carla continues reading, “As they slept, they started dreaming of all the invisible strings they had, and all the strings their friends have, and their friends have, until everyone in the world was connected by invisible strings.”

We learn in “Eddie Begins” that Eddie had offers from both Chicago and LA, but he ultimately decided to go to LA and join the LAFD and again with getting offers from station 6 and station 118 and he goes with station 118. Again this has a lot to do with what Eddie thought was best, but we can only assume again he most likely chose LA since he already had family there and wanted a support system as he didn’t want to be around his parents, but still wanted to be around family as he continues to raise Christopher as a single father and now navigating starting a probationary year as a firefighter in a new city

Okay back to the episode like right at the end of the episode we finally get revealed who Buck has been talking to this entire time, which he started seeing Dr. Copeland for personal reasons and the line that’s most interesting about this now with the knowledge that they were suppose to make Buddie canon in season 4, but Fox shut it down is “Hey Dr. Copeland. I’m going good. I’ve actually been — been thinking a lot about what you said in our last session and how I hide my true feelings from others. I’m starting to think you might be right.”

I think again with having this mention of invisible stings connecting people together it really is amazing how intertwined Buck and Eddie are even from the beginning like yes Buck didn’t like Eddie for one millisecond, but pulling a grenade out of a leg in the back of an ambulance had them saying they have each others backs and when then as we progress through season 2 and learn that Eddie is a single father, Buck inserts himself in and helps Eddie out like reaching out to Carla and making sure Eddie got the help he needed for Christopher and even with him going out with them to see Santa and taking Christopher to the zoo and the whole pier day prior to the tsunami, we see Buck and Eddie become a little family unit and always being there for one another no matter what and then we get the lawsuit and it all goes to shit for one episode, but again back on track with them being there for each other and always just being present for one another as work partners and as partners outside of work

And even now with the background knowledge with watching season 4 in a different lense and specifically the shooting arc like again having Buck be all confused about his feelings towards Abby right at the end of season 3 when he sees her at the train derailment call and he sees her again to meet up and try to get some closer, but he ultimately doesn’t get the answers he wants and he continues to feel this constant abandonment from people that claim to love him, but again leave him at the end, so he decides to go to therapy.

When doing therapy now as a personal choice and not something being required by the department or anything connected to the department, Buck starts sharing everything from the past few years and I’m assuming he keeps mentioning Eddie this and Eddie that and Eddie’s son Christopher and how integral he is with the Diaz family and Dr. Copeland most likely probably makes him put two and two together and realize what his true feelings are for Eddie, but he doesn’t want to destroy that relationship he has in his life, so when the shooting occurs Buck is at a lost for words and again with not sharing how he honestly feels towards Eddie and he doesn’t even know what’s going to happen to Eddie

We see Buck go under the fire engine after he had been injured by a fire engine and suffered a pulmonary embolism and blood clots and he almost lost his leg to the fire engine go ahead and he went underneath an engine that had caused him so much damage to pull Eddie from the street where he is bleeding out and picks him up and carries him and picks him up and he gets him into the 133 engine as Captain Mehta calls out that Firefighter Diaz has been shot to dispatch. We see Buck push the paramedic out of the way and he takes care of Eddie and keeps telling Eddie to “stay with me” as they are on way to the hospital. Again you see Buck all confused and trying to keep it together as best as he can as he sees his best friend bleeding out and as he has his blood splattered all over him and Eddie seeing this as he is aware of his surroundings now that he is inside of the fire engine he asks Buck, “Are you okay?” like this man is bleeding out and has a bullet in his chest and he is still as concerned and worried about Buck as much as Buck is worried about him in that moment. When one of them is injured on a call they are always there for each other and worried sick about the other until they finally reach the hospital. When Buck had the fire engine pinning his leg down, we have Eddie holding his hand as he screams out in pain over his leg, when we have Eddie trapped after the well collapsed we have Buck clawing his way through wet mud to try and reach out for him, in the fire at the hand sanitizer factory, Eddie is the first one to reach Buck after he had been trapped and had fire surrounding him on all sides, and the shooting we have Buck taking control of the situation as he is covered in his best friend’s blood and is trying to keep it together while they get him to the hospital as quickly as they can and he literally pushes the paramedic out of the way so he can help him out because he can’t just stand back and watch anyone else help out Eddie because he blames himself for Eddie getting shot and we see this guilty eat at him throughout the following episode up until Eddie wakes up in the hospital and does his own confession of love in a way of saying that he trusts and loves Buck so much that he put him in his will to look after his son if something ever happened to Eddie, like Eddie really contacted his lawyer to change his will to make sure Buck was in it

Like it’s the fact that Buck had to taste his best friend’s blood before anything else and even when they finally get him to the hospital he needs to go and share the news with Christopher. We see him have his breakdown as he is telling Christopher that Eddie won’t be home and we see the moment where Buck breaks down and starts crying while Christopher hugs him and it’s a very sweet and emotional moment for both of them as Christopher is trying to be there for Buck and Buck is being there for Christopher, but they both don’t know how Eddie will turn out since he was rushed into surgery and even we see as him and Taylor have an argument in his apartment and he doesn’t run after her, but as soon as he gets the phone call from Ana saying that Eddie’s awake like immediately after Taylor leaves his apartment he rushes over to the hospital and again proving time and time again that his main priority and the most important person in his life will always be Eddie and Eddie one ups Buck in that sense by proving to him and committing to him that he will always be an important person not only to him, but to his son as well by going out of his way to contact his lawyer and having him put Buck in the will. And even Buck mentions to him that didn’t he need his permission and Eddie says that his lawyer had told him that Buck could refuse, and Buck is immediately like along the lines of you know I wouldn’t again drawing to the fact that they are and will always be important to each other no matter what. And again he draws attention to Buck and makes him realize that he should not be saying negative things and saying that he should have been shot with the simple “Evan” because again we know that Buck doesn’t like being called Evan it reminds him of his parents and the way he was raised, but this was an important conversation they were having so to call Buck’s attention and make him realize how important the conversation they were going to have is he calls him Evan

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yuwuta · 5 months

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is this a safe space can we talk about a/b/o aus also can i mention okkofushi and can i say alpha yuuta who was so nervous about the responsibility of being part of and taking care of a pack but he fits so naturally in the role, it’s so easy for all his friends to fall in line and follow him and trust him, so he doesn’t understand why you and megumi are both so difficult. it’s not like he thinks omegas are weak by default, yuuta knows you’re stronger than he’ll ever be; it’s not like he thinks betas need to assume more submissive roles, he knows megumi can take care of himself. separately, you two are fine, but together you’re the brattiest pair and yuuta doesn’t get why nor does he get why it bothers him. he was never the alpha that needed the validation, never the one that needed people to fear to him just from his presence alone, but you and megumi make him desperate, and even worse, yuuta knows he wouldn’t be satisfied with just one of your. he’s trying not to push you both, he’s trying to be a good alpha, a calm alpha, a decent alpha but every time megumi rolls his eyes and does as he pleases, or you giggle at him and ask some other alpha for help, or the two of you tease just to run off together, yuuta is overrun with thoughts of how to tame you two, how to make you listen, how to get you both to just submit for once in your lives.

#sorry i had to get that out……#he’s so……anyway…#this is like the 90th omega verse thought I’ve had this week and the lines are blurring together that’s how we ended up with okkofushi #when i get to articulating the omega satoru fic in my drafts…#when I finally come up with coherent words for omega megumi who keeps referring to you as his alpha even tho u are definitely not #when i can make yuuta the insane alpha he’s meant to be once I figure out how people live in lodges in the woods when it’s snowing #then I will finally be free #anyway.#megumi brat agenda will I ever come up with something new probably not #the only thing worse than this au in my head is the itafushi ver #……#megumi x reader #yuuta x reader

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braxiatel · 14 days

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Nothing weirder to me than people who are anti hermitshipping because “they’re real people” but who literally write gen fic. It just doesn’t add up. You can put them in the most body horror heavy situations, but god forbid they fall in love? You’re okay playing barbies with real people, but you draw the line at slapping their little plastic bodies together? Why is imagining and exploring their platonic relationships through fiction somehow less intrusive than doing so with their romantic relationships?

If there is no distinction between character and creator, if they are real people, then why is objectifying them only a problem the moment they fall in love? Does it perhaps say something about your views on sexuality and romantic relationships as a whole?

Something to think about…

#anyway I’ve had these in my drafts for months and it’s true okay #I try to not post too many negative things in here #because I really want to be a positive presence on people’s dashes #but I’ve had A Week and I’m tired so I’m gonna post it as s treat for me #you may think of it as firing shots to lower the property value #I think if it as handing out free wildflower seeds so people can spread them across the neighbourhood #negative #fandom discourse #the void collection

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crybaby-bkg · 1 year

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Being in the forest, you’ve come across all kinds of things, people, beings. You, being one of them, a fairy, an olden one of your kind, the kin that’s far and few to find just lurking around. So you’re special, held in high regard to those who frequent your area of the forest, respected and highly praised. Most know to bow and smile without teeth when they see you, except for one.

He’s new, you suspect, with his too big green eyes and tilted head. He takes in every part of the forest, mumbling to himself, picks at his bottom lip. His hands rests on his hips, and you notice his chest is naked and his lower half is covered in thick, dense fur. It tapers off into shiny hooves that he taps into the soft grass, and you wonder when the last time you saw a satyr was.

He’s a pretty one, you think, with thick curly green locks and curious eyes. His ears are pointed and they twitch in your direction at your giggle when he trips over a tree root. His gaze swivels over to the flower you rest on, and he perks up at the sight of it, clumsily making his way to you.

Everything’s all giggles from you, until he picks up the flower you rest on, mouth opening as the flower comes quickly to his mouth. Before he can devour you, you screech at him, something in your old tongue that nobody in a thirty mile radius could understand. But he stops, pulling the flower back, his curious green eyes widening when he finally makes out your camouflaged body sitting prettily in the bud of the flower.

“Have you no manners?” You ask, voice a huff that makes the satyr’s head tilt in the other direction. He blinks a few times before his eyes widen in excitement, mouth dropping open as he takes you in.

“You’re a…” his voice delves off, as he realizes what kind of fairy you must be. One he’s only heard of in tales, ones that are as old as time. He can’t believe he’s seeing one in real time, much less almost eating one!

“Give me your name, and I’ll forgive your indiscretion.” You offer him, chin jutting out in his direction. He knows he shouldn’t, knows you guys are full of tricks, that he should only admire from afar. But you’re so pretty in that ethereal type of way, and so, so tiny in his hands, that he wonders just how much damage you could actually cause. So he bites the bullet, doesn’t even realize that with just a name, he’s sealed his fate.

“Izuku. My name is Izuku.”

Izuku, or Deku as he likes to be called, has become so subservient to you as the days go on. Carries you everywhere, despite your wings working perfectly fine. Feeds you the fruit from trees without a single complaint, bathes you in the lakes despite his face always turning so red.

He even touches you the way you like to be touched. Lets you stay in his palm, figure hidden behind thick trees, a patch in the openness of the forest where only you two reside. He holds his thickest finger above you, watches with intent vermillion eyes as you lay on your back in his palm, rubbing your tiny little clit all over the pad of his finger. He could crush you in this position, but all he can think of is how immoral it would be to kill an ancient fairy from trying to shove you on his too big cock.

And despite using his big fingers to get you off for so long, it still isn’t enough. He’s surprised, one dusky morning, when he enters that patch in the forest that’s become you guys’ special spot, and doesn’t find you sleeping on a leaf. No, instead, Deku finds someone who looks eerily like you, only bigger in size—so, so much bigger.

Your hair looks so soft and your skin glows an eery golden haze around it. Your wings look iridescent in the slithers of morning light, as they flap lightly when he enters the thicket. Your body is bare, and it only feels that much intenser when everything is so much bigger, so easier to see in the broadening of your skin.

Your eyes are devious, with a downright cruel smile. You stretch where you lay, yawning a little, flipping on your back as you look at Izuku upside down, body bare and on display. It makes him think back to how hard he would have to strain to look in between your legs, now looking away at just how clear everything is.

“It’s time to prove your usefulness to me, Izuku. Are you ready?” You ask in a voice so sultry, he thinks he might melt on the spot. He should’ve known better than to give an ancient fairy his name, knows he’s spellbound to you and your every wish for eternity. But a part of him wishes he only would’ve met you sooner.

“I’m more than ready.”

#I’ve had this idea in my drafts for like 3 weeks now #but kept forgetting about it and then I got lazy lol #love this idea tho I’ve been wanting to write about fairy reader for a while now #but couldn’t think of anything else!!#it’s something about too big clumsy satyr izuku with this tiny conniving lil fairy that he always carries around #that just makes me :(((((#he’s so beeg but sooo gentle #omg and when you try to kiss for the first time while you’re still tiny #his eyes squint so much and he’s got this big pucker on his lips #he can barely even feel your kiss but it’s soft and light and he thinks he’s in love #and he’s so easy to tease #AHHHHH I NEED TO LAY DOWN!!!!!!#I wont him so bad #—new treat in the streets! 🍫#deku treats! 🍬#also if anyone wants to talk more about this then I’m more than happy to 👀

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