randomly thinking about silver fullbuster and. god. you're forcibly brought back to life against your will. your wife and son are dead, you couldn't save them. the only thing you can do right now is try to avenge them. your entire unnatural, undead existence is fueled by your thirst for vengeance. you do unspeakable things, you hurt so many people and cause thousands more to be hurt. you tell yourself you're doing it for your family, but you're really just doing it for yourself, aren't you?
but then. almost two decades later, you see your son's face on a screen. he's alive and he's grown up, and you've wasted all this time seeking revenge when you should have been a parent to him. but it's too late now and you're running out of time and you're in far too deep to back out now. and he's everything you're not: good and happy and free from the desire for revenge, and you're so, so proud.
and you have to face him in battle anyway. and perhaps it would be kinder to let him believe that you're nothing more than a monster he has to defeat. but he's too smart and you're too selfish. you don't want to let go of the chance to hold him one last time, to beg for forgiveness. and so you traumatize him again, and leave him in the throes of grief while you get to pass on and leave it all behind. will he ever forgive you for it? will your wife forgive you? will heaven let you in?
(Antagonists/Dragons) M!Fairy Tail x Chubby Fem!Reader: You're in bed with them and they like what they see.
content warning/themes (MDNI - 19+ only or risk being blocked): established relationship, implied intimacy (pre/post), body appreciation/worship, possessive behaviour, emotional restraint, praise, use of magic, dirty talk, minor angst
a/n: Should I have started FT off the guild itself? Logistically, yes. But the antagonists in this series got me in a chokehold ngl... hope you enjoy!
Zeref
He doesn't look away when the sheet slips from your shoulder. He should, but doesn't. The sight of you stretched out in the bed is as beautiful as it is agonizing, and Zeref is motionless in the chair by the window, knuckles white around the edge of the armrest. "You're tempting fate," he murmurs. His voice is uneven, like he's already fighting the urge to go to you. "Lying there like that. Looking at me like I haven't already destroyed everything I've ever touched." He drags in a breath that does nothing to calm the tremor in his spine. "I want you. And I can't want you. Don't you understand?"
Your voice, soft and teasing, makes it worse as you try to reassure him. Zeref rises to his feet, but doesn't come closer. His hands are clenched tight at his sides, magic prickling like a threat in the air. "Every part of me is screaming to be near you," he says hoarsely. "But the more I feel, the more I risk ending you. That's the curse. That's what it means to love me." He reaches out once, hand trembling mid-air above your thigh, before forcing it back with a guttural sound of restraint. "So don't say I'm sweet. Don't say I'm handsome. Because one day I might believe you, and that'll be the day I lose you."
Acnologia
The sheets weren't meant to last, not under the weight of someone like him. And yet, they're still clinging to your curves like second skin, pulled tight across your thighs. Acnologia sits at the edge of the bed, unclothed and wholly unmoved by your modesty as his eyes rake over you with a quiet hunger, "You're not hiding anything from me with that," he says, dragging a clawed hand across the pillowcase beside your head. "I can see everything. Every curve. Every inch. And I like what I see. More than you probably want me to."
He leans in when you shift beneath him, nostrils flaring at the scent of sweat and skin still warm from what came before. "You look like you could survive the winter easy," he murmurs, tongue flicking over his teeth. "My kind of woman." His hand curls around your thigh and flips your positions until you find yourself splayed across his lap. "You don't need sweet talk from me. What you need is another round." His voice is low as he slides his hands up to your hips. "And I'll decide when we're done."
Ignia
He lies sprawled beside you, his bronze skin glistening and a lazy grin tugging at his lips as his eyes trail over the exposed rise of your stomach to the curve of your hips barely covered by the sheets. "All this fire in me, and you're the one burning me up." His doesn't ask for permission as his hand slides under the fabric without hesitation, dragging slowly down the slope of your waist like he's mapping out the territory he intends to reclaim. "Damn. You don't even realize how hot you are, do you?"
He shifts, half over you now, kissing your collarbone before nipping it, teeth grazing just enough to make your breath hitch. "I like that you're soft. I like that I have to use both hands to hold your ass," he murmurs against your skin, voice thick with amusement and heat. "The way you take up the bed, the way you press against me when you stretch--" His hips grind forward against you, "I swear, every time I look at you, I forget what the hell I was doing. Except this. This I remember."
Mercphobia
He doesn't speak at first. Just watches, his eyes tracing the way your breath shifts the sheets, the way moonlight outlines your body in ripples and shadow. Despite being beneath the covers, he's stares at you like he's never seen you bare before (which he has, many times). "You're... overwhelming," he finally murmurs, "Like deep water." His hand slides across the sheets to touch your side, "So full and mesmerizing." He pauses. "And all mine."
When you tilt your head toward him, Mercphobia leans in with awe. His palm cradles the slope of your belly, feeling its warmth and savoring the contrast against his own cool skin. "I used to fear you'd only see me as something to worship. But now..." His lips brush the edge of your chest, then lower, moving slow, like the tide rolling in. "Now I'm afraid you'll realize you deserve someone better than a cursed god playing mortal." His voice dips, fingers splayed against your thigh. "But if you'll let me stay, I promise to always drown in you. Again. And again. And again."
Mard Geer Tartaros
He lounges beside you, one arm behind his head, the other tracing idle patterns against your thigh with his fingers. "Do you know what you look like right now?" he murmurs in amusement, "Like something conjured from a mind darker than mine." His eyes slide over your chest, your hips, the soft press of your thighs together under the sheets. "This bed was pristine when we started. Now it reeks of you, as it should."
He sits up slowly, draping the duvet off your legs just enough to expose what he wants to see. His tongue drags thoughtfully over his teeth. "You were made to be sinned against," he says plainly. "And I intend to commit every sin twice." Mard Geer leans down then, pressing a kiss just below your stomach, "Don't ask if I like what I see," he adds, lips brushing your skin. "I designed this moment with you in mind. And I'm not nearly finished admiring my work."
Larcade Dragneel
He doesn't touch you at first. Just watches, golden eyes hazy with restraint, as you shift beside him beneath the sheets. The room still hums faintly with leftover magic, his own, and even now you can feel the echo of it in your bones from how it made you arch, cry out and shudder from a command as simple as feel. "You always take it so well," Larcade whispers, voice quiet with awe. "Most can't handle even a fraction of what I give. But you." He leans closer, breath hot against your shoulder. "You make it so... beautiful."
His fingers trail over your arm, then pause. "I... held back tonight," he confesses, his voice trembling like it pains him. "Because if I really let go, if I gave you everything, there wouldn't be anything left of you but bliss. No thoughts, no sense, just... release." He says it like a blessing and a curse as he moves his way down, mouth brushing the inside of your thigh. "But that's not what I want tonight." His tongue flicks against your skin. "Tonight, I want to see you fall apart because of me. Not because of magic. Just me."
Silver Fullbuster
"You know..." Silver's voice breaks the silence, "I was a dead man not that long ago." He was lying on his side now, head propped up on one arm, eyes dragging over the shape of you stretched beneath the sheets. "Didn't feel a damn thing back then. No heat, no want." His fingers ghost over your thigh like he's proving a point, "But now?" He leans in, breath cool against your skin as he mutters, "Now I've got you lying next to me like this, and all I can think about is how badly I want to ruin the bed again."
There's no teasing when he finally moves, his hand slides along your side, cupping the softness of your waist like it's something he fought to earn. "You don't know what you look like right now," he murmurs, voice thick with restraint. "But I do. And if this is what being alive feels like..." He leans down to kiss you slowly. "Then I'll thank this curse that brought me back." His mouth keeps moving, cold lips warming with each pass.
Jackal
The room still smells like scorched sweat, and Jackal's grin hasn't faded since he collapsed beside you. His hair's a mess and scratches litter his shoulders, but his eyes are locked on you like you're the most hazardous thing in the room. "Holy shit," he drawls, one hand lazily gripping the sheets near your hip. "You're lucky I didn't blow up the bed from how good that was." His gaze dips, trailing from your flushed cheeks down to the mess he left behind. "Seriously. I've turned whole towns into craters for less."
He doesn't provide context before rolling over you, his weight pressing into your thighs as his mouth hovers just above your chest. "You always look fucking great," he says, voice ragged, "but like this? All marked up, chest heaving, skin hot from what I did to you?" He licks his lips like he's about to start round two without warning. "Hell, if I'm a demon, then you're the bomb that went off in my head." His hand curls under your thigh, dragging it higher as he smirks. "I wanna see that look on your face again, the one you make right before I make you scream."
Tempester
Your body's still warm against the sheets, your breath uneven, your skin marked by everything he just did, and Tempester is staring at you like it's the last time he ever will. Because it might very well be, again. "I don't know how many times this has happened," he says flatly, eyes dragging over your curves like he's trying to brand the sight into his mind. "How many times I've looked at you like this and forgotten it all the next time I wake up." His hand flexes against the mattress, jaw tight. "But it feels like I've done this before. Like my body remembers you, even if my mind never will."
He leans down slowly, pressing his mouth to your shoulder, "If I forget you again, make me regret it," he breathes, words hot against your skin. "Scratch me. Leave marks. Make me feel it." His fingers curl against your hip, drawing you closer like muscle memory's all he can trust. "I don't want forgiveness. I want now. While I still know your name. While I still remember how good you feel when you come apart."
a/n: Dividers made on Canva, let me know if you plan on using them.
a/n: ngl haven't rewatched the Tartoros arc in a hot second so apologies if anyone is ooc from my headcanons!
Flare: Jaune, I really want you to meet my family.
Jaune: Okay. It seems a little soon since it's only been a few weeks since we started dating, but I've never met a giant, so this will be fun.
Flare: Well, I just know we'll be together forever, and I haven't seen them for so long. I want to show them the person who helped me find my place and made me realize my family loves me regardless of my size. Plus... blushes if you got my parents' blessing, it would be so romantic.
After finding the village and its inhabitants frozen...
Flare: I-I never got to say I'm sorry. I-I'll never hear their voices again. I'll n—
Jaune: Grabbing her shoulders Flare! I can still sense their souls. They're alive, just in some kind of suspended animation.
Flare: T-Then you can help them?!
Jaune: Flare, I'm so sorry. Flare cries into his shoulder and falls to her knees. But I swear on the Arc name, I will find a way to fix this. You'll see them, this village, and the Eternal Flame restored to the way they were.
*Jaune examining the Ice that the giants are frozen in*
Jaune: 'This isn't normal Ice-Make magic, there's something else mixed in...' *Examines it closer before recognizing the distinct signature of a certain magic* Slayer Magic?
*Cuts off a piece of ice that was nearby and examines it more closely*
Jaune: It's not Godslayer magic or even Dragonslayer magic... No, there are traces of dark magic... Demonslayer Magic? Why would anyone use Demonslayer magic on the Eternal Flame?
???: That would be my fault
*Jaune turns around only to see Silver Fullbuster and is shocked when he sees his soul*
Jaune: Your soul... It's similar to Grey!
Silver: Oh, so you know Grey, hm? Interesting
*Silver activates his magic and creates ice spikes, shooting forward to try and stab Jaune, but the young master's aura blocks and even breaks the spikes before they actually touch him.*
Jaune: Nice try, but now you're gonna answer my questions...
*Jaune scatters into a million pieces of light before reforming right next to Silver, and grabbing the walking corpse by the back of his head before slamming him into the icy floor, cracking it.*
Jaune: Who are you? Why did you do this to the village? And why the hell is your soul so similar to Grey's?
Silver: 'So this is the power of Fairy Tail's master... No wonder we were told to stay away from Fairy Tail. If this guy is this tough, how strong is Grey?'
