Some fom guys x chubby reader stuff idk (Self indulgent and not spellchecked rambling lol)
Eiland
♡ A suprisingly touchy grabby person. Being a noble and in the presence of other people is the only thing really holding him back. Before you get together hes trying so hard to remain the gentlemanly and considerrate person he was raised to be. The moment you get close enough he starts to test the waters, a hand on you back or waist, holding your hand, grazing his knuckles along your cheek.
♡ If you shy away from it he might ask you whats wrong, and if need be assure you that he likes how you feel. The softness, the warmth, as well as the sweet reactions his affections pull from you.
♡ If you feel insecure or have moments of doubt he would reassure you and hold you. Hed also ramble on about how beauty standards from bygone eras differ from the ones today, saying that youd be the most beautifull girl to him in any era, past present or future.
♡ Absolutely would be the type to spoonfeed you the sweet treats you have on your dates. He thinks you look cute when you eat, and almost zones out a bit as he feeds you. Hed do it without being asked to. One second youre looking at the pretty forest scenery of you picnic date, then once you turn to face him again he holding out a spoonfull of strawberries and cream with an expectant smile. Though if it flusters you too much hed happily be on the receiving end instead.
♡ The touchy grabby-ness only multiplies when you cuddle. Holding you in his arms, and if you turn around in your sleep hel just pull you right back by the waist.
March
♡ Cuteness agression lol wants to chew on you so bad
♡ Hes not one for sweets, so if you are then you get any and all sweets he happens to receive, as well as som treats he made himself got from the inn.. totally.
♡ May or may not have said a few rude things early on, simply because he doesnt know how to talk to people very well. Later in time he looks back on those moments and wants to punch his past self so bad. He was never directly insulting you for your weight, but said some things that can be taken the wrong way for sure. If your expression fell at his words he would die a little on the inside. Despite being in denial about liking you, the look on your face made his heart sink a little. (God help him and his horrendously bad way of phrasing things)
♡ He makes up for it by acting sweeter later. He still glares at you, but now more out of admiration. His scowl is what turns it into a glare rather than fond gaze, as he mentally wrestles with accepting his yearning lol. He speaks more in actions than words, and shows his love for your softer frame every day in small acts. Hugging you from behind, smoothing his hands over your sides and stomach as his head rests on your shoulder. Though if he ever catches you doubting yourself he would try his hardest to string together the words to make you feel better. Its worth fumbling his words and looking stupid to make you feel like the pretty girl you are.
♡ If ever there is any person stupid enough to speak badly of you with him around, they'll receive the earfull of a lifetime. He wont accept anyone speaking ill of his pretty girlfriend, it would be factually incorrect to describe you as anything other than perfect.
Caldarus
♡ With his absurd height and general size compared to humans he likely doesnt think your about your size at all. Almost all humans look small next to him anyway, and once hes regained his strength as well he could probably carry you just fine.
♡ He has no clue how humanity's stance on beauty has changed. Both in what is and isnt considerred pretty, as well as the importance placed on it. He is honestly truly enamoured, and doesnt have the same need to hide it as others might. He rests his eyes on you and wont divert his gaze even when caught. If anything his already smitten expression only blooms into glee at the added attention from you.
♡ He would love to try all the cute things humans do, and during a dinner date would tell you that hes heard some people feed their partners on dates. And so with an expression of slight exitement, happy to be doing "cute human coustoms" with you, he holds a fork up for you. Only issue is that he was in charge of cooking that day...
♡ His new form is still reminicent of the statue you knew him as before, cool to the touch and with skin thick enough that he felt slightly hard. Your softer and warmer body against his feels comforting, and thus you find yourself in an inescapable clawed grip most nights.
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Argghhh I lost the ask while trying to edit the post, but someone requested C, F, L, T, and W for our dear Eiland! Here it is!! ⋆˙⟡ I hope the requester sees this!
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
He sometimes gets a little funny about thinking he’s going to finish too fast. This is part of why he prefers a slow and measured pace during intimacy; it helps him to prolong the act. He gets better at lasting longer as time goes on. You just feel so good. What is poor Eiland meant to do—ignore how amazing it feels to fuck you? That would be terribly rude! And *you* could not possibly ignore *him* when he reaches his climax. His whole rhythm goes off the rails. Crying your name in the most beautifully pathetic, needy way. Can’t even remember whatever he was saying before that—was he talking you through it? Praising you? That’s wonderful. Now all he’s doing is moaning and shaking.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Perhaps unexpected, but he likes taking you from behind. It seems very intimate to him, how you let him see you like this. Plus, this kind of position lets him control his pace and rhythm very precisely. You can’t lock your legs around him and draw him in like you do so easily, and frequently, during face-to-face sex. When you’re riding him? He’s just gone. Losing battle already lost. He loves how he can whisper right in your ear and feel every shiver that his words elicit when he’s pressed up against your back. His other secret reason for loving positions like doggy (especially standing) is because it makes him feel masculine and competent in a way he sometimes doesn’t in most other situations. He doesn’t have a ton of angst about this or anything, but it’s just satisfying to feel like he’s the man who can take care of you.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Eiland is an adventurous person, but also very fond of comfort. And privacy. His favorite place to have you is in his own bed. He’s taken great care to make sure his bedroom is a very nice place to be. His sheets are extremely comfortable. His mattress is the ideal firmness. Nobody would ever dare intrude into Lord Eiland’s private chambers. Why not make the most of it to have his way with you…or yours with him?
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Eiland actually finds the concept of sex toys quite fascinating, both in theory and in…practice. It’s genuinely interesting to him that people across all times and cultures have developed tools devoted to the sole purpose of enhancing sexual pleasure. And it is for this very purpose that he owns a few toys himself. He only acquired them after he started dating you. Prior to that, he was aware of them, and had come across descriptions of their many uses in books, but he didn’t see a need to keep any around. He’s generally not inclined to use toys on himself. However…on you? Oh, yes.
He’s never mean or merciless about it. His goal is not to use toys to punish or frustrate you. He just thinks it’s a novel way to make you feel even better. Eiland lives to please.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
Eiland is more mindful of his position than he may seem. He considers himself an archaeologist first and a noble second, but he is still a noble. And you are a farmer. He is not ignorant of the inherent power difference in your relationship. Unlike some may, Eiland does not get off on that. In truth, he’s worried that it may someday make you question the future of your relationship. So, in bed, he tries his utmost to show you how much he values you and respects you. He’s mindful of his words. He is often playful, and sometimes teasing, but never degrading. He always puts you first. A day will never, ever come that Eiland doesn’t do all he can to make you cum. If he had to pick between you seeing his sexual role in relation to you as a servant or a master…he would pick the former. Ideally, though, he would wish to be your equal partner in all things.
A sweet & spicy soft dom Eiland x reader requested by an anonymous but very wise individual. I know the ask was for a "drabble" but I'm afraid I cannot be brief about this subject. One shot be upon ye.
CW: explicit smut, dom!eiland, sub!reader, GN!reader, minor injury with some blood, somewhat of a student/teacher roleplay thing going on.
Word Count: 2934
Also on AO3!
You had to admit, the romance novels on your shelf were right about one thing: it was nice to be carried bridal-style in the arms of your beloved. However, you couldn’t recall your favorite books mentioning the main character bleeding all over their lover’s well-tailored winter coat, or the bit where Eiland was losing his mind thinking that your injured ankle was somehow his fault.
It wasn’t anyone’s fault, really. You and Eiland were out on a dig. It started snowing. You lost track of time, got too excited about spotting an artifact, stepped in a hole hidden by the recent snowfall, twisted your ankle, fell, cut your arm on a rock, and screamed so loud that Eiland thought you had broken something or possibly been murdered by an unseen assailant. You knew that realistically…you would be fine. The only major casualty was your dignity. Eiland, however, was acting like you’d both fallen through time into some old-world battlefield and you had been felled by an arrow. You peeked up at his handsome face from your place in his arms.
“Eiland,” you whispered. “You don’t have to run. I’m not at risk of bleeding out.”
“Hm? Oh! But Valen should see you right away…you know, even though the soil in Mistria is quite healthy compared to most places around Aldaria, it could still harbor unknown bacteria, and we don’t know what exactly you hit-–’”
“A rock, Eiland.” You sighed. His speculative nature was always cute, but you didn’t want him whipping himself up into a worried frenzy over this. “Let’s just rinse it off and see how it looks, alright?”
“Alright,” he replied, clearly skeptical. He slowed his pace and changed course.
“Where are we going?”
“If you don’t want to see Valen yet, I’ll allow it, but I’m not going to toss you into your house to fend for yourself. We’re going to the manor.”
That made sense. It was closer anyway, having come from the Western Ruins into the center of town. You acquiesced and fell silent, snuggling closer into his chest for warmth. You could feel more than hear when he started humming—a soft, vaguely familiar melody.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
You kept your eyes closed, content in Eiland’s arms, as he managed to get the front door open and enter the main hall. Someone was playing the piano. You only stirred and looked around when you felt him start to ascend the stairs. Interesting.
“Are we not going to your office? Wouldn’t that be easier?”
“Ah, it would, but far less comfortable!” Eiland announced cheerily and smiled down at you. Then, his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “I would prefer to have you in my bed.” The words sent a flash of heat through your body. He surely didn’t mean it like that. Sweet, bashful Eiland would never manage to sound so smooth if he intended to be flirtatious. He probably meant exactly what he said. He preferred to have you in his bed to recover because it would be more comfortable. That made sense, just like coming here in the first place made sense.
Moments later, you melted into a pile of blankets that both looked and felt expensive. Eiland was an outdoorsy person, but in his home, he did enjoy the finer things. His bookshelves were covered in history texts and board games and relics, but the quality and cut of the wood was still obvious. His bed felt pleasantly lived-in, but it was sturdy in a way that cheap construction never was, and the sheets no doubt had a thread count the better part of a thousand. You bunched one of them in your hand. The feeling of these sheets against your skin was not entirely unfamiliar. You’d been here before, of course, just not for the purpose of receiving medical treatment.
You glanced at your arm. It was no longer actively bleeding. That gave you some relief—at least you wouldn’t ruin Eiland’s fancy bedding like you had probably ruined his clothing. He didn’t seem to pay that any mind. He’d thrown his elegant cloak on the floor and was fishing through a box of what looked like basic medical supplies. You sat up, feet hanging off the edge of the mattress.
“Aha!” he cried, lifting a roll of bandages and a bottle. He grabbed some fresh cloth and tipped out a bit of the bottle’s contents onto it. “Here, hold out your arm. This might sting a bit!” He wiped the cloth over your cut, causing you to wince and hiss. He winced back. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I—”
“It’s fine, Eiland, really,” you said, laughing. “You did exactly what you’re supposed to do.”
“Did I, my dearest? I let this happen in the first place.” He looked morose as he finished cleaning you up. The scrape really didn’t look so bad afterwards. Eiland took the bandages, applied some ointment, and wrapped up your arm. “In any case, I think you were right; we probably don’t need to see Valen about your arm. Now, let’s have a look at that ankle. May I?”
You nodded. Eiland sat down on the bed and unlaced your shoes, slid them off. Then, your socks. Finally, he raised the hem of your pant leg up as high as it would go to expose your injured ankle. His cool, slender fingers skimmed over your skin.
“Hmmm,” he hummed. He held your foot aloft, gingerly, as if inspecting a rare artifact.
“Eiland, can you actually tell what’s going on, or are you just preparing to guess?”
“It’s called a hypothesis when you have data.”
“Oh, forgive me, Professor Eiland,” you teased. He blushed. He ran his hand higher up your leg, onto your calf, and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Does that hurt at all, sweetheart?”
“No, not at all,” you replied. “It’s really just my ankle, and honestly, even that’s not so bad now that I’ve been off my feet for a bit.”
“I’m glad to hear you say so,” he murmured, moving closer. He slid his hand up even farther as he looked thoughtful. “Hmm…I’d call that anecdotal evidence. That’s when—”
“Eiland,” you said, laughing and giving him a playful shove. “I know what that is. I hear you talk about the most reliable methods of ‘understanding the people of the past’ every day!”
“I think you haven’t been paying attention to my lessons,” he replied. His indigo eyes scanned you up and down—or perhaps, studied would be a better word for the way he looked at you. Then, he hooked his arm under your knee and pulled you flat onto your back. Caught by surprise by his casual show of strength, you froze as he climbed into bed and leaned over you.
“W-what do you mean, Eiland?” You peered up at him, feigning innocence. As if you hadn’t suspected his intentions the moment he first set foot up the stairs. “I’m always paying attention, if it’s you talking.”
“I—um,” he trailed off, blushing furiously. “Now, that’s not fair! You know my heart can’t take it when you say things like that without warning.”
“My sincerest apologies, Professor,” you purred. “Anecdotal evidence? You were saying?”
“Ahem, yes.” Eiland cleared his throat. He dipped his head, his mouth only inches from yours, but he did not let your lips meet. “Anecdotal evidence, while valuable, is generally not considered the ‘most reliable’ source of information about our history.”
“I see. And what is?”
“Think for yourself,” he replied, and began kissing his way down your neck.
“It is…physical evidence?” His lips reached your chest.
“Very good.” He placed a gentle kiss on your stomach. “Hmm. I would be remiss to ignore such a perfect opportunity to model correct research techniques.” Spirits, he was such a nerd, but you loved him so much. Eiland unbuttoned your pants and drew them over your hips. You stopped thinking anything about him being a huge dork—you stopped thinking any thoughts at all—when he licked you right through your flimsy undergarments.
“Ah…ohhhh,” you moaned as you writhed under his attentions. You wrestled off the rest of your pants yourself—caution the farthest thing from your mind—as he lapped at you, wanting more freedom to move. It seemed Eiland had other plans for you. He took both hands and ripped your underwear out of his way and then used both hands again to push your thighs up against your chest. Your ankles crossed behind his head. That put a little pressure on your sprain, but you hardly felt any pain with Eiland’s talented tongue on the most sensitive part of your body by far. You raked your fingers into his pretty pale hair and pulled. He looked up at you, eyes shining with lust and mischief, and then gave a particular hard suck that had you breaking eye contact to see stars instead. You couldn’t help but whine shamelessly. After a few more strokes that had your body arching off the bed and your heels digging into the back of his head, Eiland tore away, gasping.
“Ahh…as sweet as always,” he sighed and licked his lips, savoring the taste of you. “But you’re not being very well-behaved, are you, my dearest?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” you shot back, totally out of breath. “I promise, I’m paying attention now.”
“Yes, I can tell. But you’re interfering with my lesson plan…and my treatment plan.” He pushed himself back, getting up. As he rose, he carefully separated your feet from tapping against each other with his every movement. “Oh well. I suppose I can indulge my favorite student.” He stood up. Before you could question or complain, he began stripping off his heavy winter clothing. You sat up and reached out to help with the lacing, but he stopped you. He took a moment to pull your hand closer and place a soft kiss on the inside of your bandaged wrist. So charmed were you by the tenderness that you hardly noticed when he shrugged off his shirt and stepped out of his trousers.
He pulled off your shirt next. “Hmm.” He raked his eyes over you. Your cheeks grew red. No matter how many times he assured you otherwise, you always worried that Eiland found your naked body disappointing. He stood there unclothed, looking like one of the beautiful stone statues he unearthed on occasion, but hard as a rock in a very different sense.
“Eiland…?”
He wordlessly bent down and grabbed something beside you. Ah. Your torn underwear. He held the scraps up on a finger, frowning.
“This isn’t one of the pieces I got for you.”
“O-oh,” you stuttered, blushing harder. “Everything you gift me is so nice…I didn’t want to wear it out all day on a dig.” Not to mention that you hadn’t expected to wind up undressed in his bedroom quite so soon…today, at least.
“We’ll make sure you’re attired appropriately next time,” he said, stroking your cheek.
“Am I getting a dress code violation?” you teased. Your voice shook with arousal, though, and you knew he could tell. You pressed your thighs together. If he didn’t do something soon, you were going to lose all the momentum from earlier. May as well try to bait him a little. “Am I to be punished?”
“Quite the opposite.” He pulled you off the bed.
“H-hey, wait, my—”
“Shh, it’s alright,” Eiland cooed as he lifted you from the bed and manhandled you into an upright position. He held you in front of him with one arm around your ribcage and the other under your thigh; the leverage kept your injured foot completely off the ground. “See? Just trust me.”
He sheathed himself inside of you in one movement. It knocked the breath from your lungs. Eiland was usually so gentle, so moderate. He moaned appreciatively, nuzzling his nose into your hair, and began to roll his hips into you from behind. He set languid but controlled pace. It seemed he was in a hurry to get inside of you, but he intended to take his time with you now that he had you. You pushed your free foot against the floor, causing you to tense and rise against his hips; this earned you a muffled groan. You didn’t have much room to maneuver with Eiland’s arms so firmly wrapped around you, but you tried to reach behind and grab at his hair, or even just his shoulder—anything to regain some sense of control as he bounced your helpless body with each thrust.
“Ah, ah,” he chided you. “We’ve had enough insolence for today. This is for your own good.” He adjusted his grip around your chest so that your upper arms were pinned. His hands caressed your chest. You noted that he didn’t take the easier option of just grabbing and holding your wrists. Thoughtful, even in the throes of passion. With your motion completely restricted, you could do nothing but take it as he gradually increased the speed and depth of his strokes. The way he was lightly rolling your nipples in his work-hardened fingers as he fucked you nearly sent you into overstimulation. Eiland’s breath tickled your ear as it grew ragged. You could feel his lungs rising and falling against your back, faster and faster in time with the pace of his hips. Then he unexpectedly…slowed. Stopped.
“Huh?” was all you could manage to say. Your brain was fuzzy from pleasure.
“I’ve changed my mind,” he whispered right against the shell of your ear. “You do deserve a little punishment.”
“W-why?!” What could you possibly have done wrong? Eiland slid out of you and half carried you a few steps until you were pushed down onto the bed face-first. Was he going to drop you off and leave you hanging? Was that the reprimand of his choosing? That would be so uncharacteristically mean. But Eiland was never mean. You were reminded of that when he mercifully pushed himself back into you. He took hold of your hip with one calloused hand and pushed down between your shoulder blades with the other. The pressure was not hard enough to risk hurting, but it was enough to keep you pinned in place against the sheets as he slowly drew away…and then slammed home. He held still, his member deep inside of you but maddeningly motionless.
“Why, you ask?” He rubbed his palm in a circle on your back, which both felt nice and kept you from rocking back to try and fuck yourself on him. You hissed in frustration. He shifted to holding you down by the neck. “Because I’m taking such good care of you, and I haven’t heard you cry my name even once.”
He didn’t bother with keeping his rhythm controlled this time. Eiland pounded into you as a stream of constant praise fell from his lips. He sang your praises as your walls fluttered around his length, moaning and keening about how you felt like heaven itself.
“Ah—whuh—Eiland, it’s too much, please,” you babbled.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” he rasped, breathless. “Louder, please.” He cocked your hip up, creating a new angle that had your vision going blurry. The hand on your neck disappeared and suddenly his fingers slid around your front, working on you while he increased the intensity of his movements more than you imagined possible.
“Eiland!!” you cried. You chanted his name over and over. “Eiland, Eiland, please, I’m so close.”
“V-very…very good,” he groaned. “That’s good…ah, sweetheart, so good…”
He pitched forward and wrapped both arms around your waist, scooping up your middle and putting so much pressure on just the perfect spot on your lower belly that your orgasm hit you like a thunderclap. You spasmed and twitched in Eiland’s arms, screaming his name. He held you and gently ground his hips into you until the last aftershock passed and you went limp. Then he dropped you onto the mattress and snapped his hips hard. It only took a few seconds of that to have him following you over the edge. He finished inside of you, wailing your name.
You panted as you rolled over. You stared at the ceiling, trying to steady your rapid breathing and your spinning head. Eiland flopped down beside you, equally boneless.
“How does your ankle feel?” he mumbled into the pillow. “Should we go to see the good doctor after all?” The only thing your body felt like right now was jelly.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
“Oh, no, I don’t feel like going anywhere at present,” you said lazily. You drew little shapes on his back with your nails. “And it already feels much better.”
“That is wonderful news, my love.” Eiland yawned and propped himself up. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to at least venture as far as my bath, then?”
“For you, my prince, I believe I can manage that. A hot soak sounds perfect.”
“Prince? What happened to Professor?”
You laughed and kissed his shoulder. You leaned on him as he walked you over to his elaborate, claw-footed bathtub. Eiland massaged the tension out of your neck while you sat together, waiting for the bath to fill with steaming water, and he even kept at it once you were both blissfully submerged. He rambled happily about what excursions you could embark on once you were back on your feet, what books you might find interesting, what you should have for dinner.
Yes…you’d listen to Eiland talk about pretty much anything. You’d pay attention.
HELLLOOOO I just found your blog and I absolutely love your writing!!! Could you please write O from the nsfw alphabet for Eiland?
Ooooooooo yes I can 😉 And thank you SO much, I'm so glad you've enjoyed my stuff!!
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
There’s nothing Eiland loves more than a sweet treat, and you are most certainly sweet. He absolutely adores the way you taste. He’s not bothered by any natural fluctuations in the flavor—it is simply not for him to question the gift you give him every time you let him get his head between your legs. He’s incredibly eager and enthusiastic, if a little awkward and kind of everywhere-at-once at first. He can be instructed. His palette can be even further refined. He is a star student. Eiland will go down on you nearly every time you sleep with him. To further his education, of course.
He very much enjoys receiving, but he is a little worried about accidentally treating you roughly. He’s careful not to thrust into your mouth unless you explicitly tell him to. He just sits back and basks in the feeling of your tongue working him into a white-out of ecstasy. It can be sort of hard to read when his orgasm will hit him when you’re blowing him, because he’s moaning and praising you non-stop the whole time and he sort of forgets to throw in a quick “I’m close!” while he’s at it. Too lost in the sauce.
Can I request headcanons for Eiland and Balor taking care of a very sick farmer?
Waaitttt this is such a cute idea, I love it! Also very timely, because I woke up with a cold this morning.
Eiland
You didn’t show up at the appointed time to join him on a dig and he got worried. He just had a sense that something was wrong. He ran right over to your house and was horrified to find you bedridden and coughing.
He thinks you are going to die even if you just have a common cold.
He will keep bringing you various foods and medicines that may or may not be what you need—he just doesn’t want to forget anything that may help you at all. He has plenty of resources, it’s fine.
He’s the guy who leaves for “a cup of chicken noodle soup and some cough medicine” and comes back with two pints of soup, three kinds of cough medicine, various weird herbal remedies, some honey, a bucket of ice, another blanket, and also his sister.
He wants Adeline and Valen to check on you often, too, and confirm that you will not die. Adeline also helps to coordinate care of your farm in your absence.
He stops by at least three times a day to comfort you and see if you need anything, but he also wants to let you get periods of undisturbed rest. He slips in and stays a little while, but will not wake you if you’re sleeping. You will find the latest items and a sweet note by your bedside whenever you wake up.
Once you have your sense of taste back, he’ll treat you to your favorite sweets to lift your spirits.
Balor
When he walks into your farmhouse and finds you shivering and sniveling, his heart aches for you, but he keeps a level head.
He’s the type to immediately go for the doctor– he feels Valen would be better at assessing your health than a traveling rogue who’s never taken care of someone else before.
Valen says you’ve just got a nasty bug and you need rest and fluids and someone to keep an eye on you. Balor says alright, I can do that.
He doesn’t leave town the whole time you’re sick. Yes, his proceeds will take a hit, but you’re worth it. He would feel awful if he left and came back to find you even sicker. In fact, he barely leaves your house at all. He sleeps in a little cot in your bedroom so that you can have the whole bed but he can still see and hear you.
The only outing he makes besides getting Valen is running over to ask Hayden to take care of your animals. He has NO idea how to do that and doesn’t want to mess it up.
After a couple days, Josephine gets suspicious and comes by. Balor beseeches her to bring soup. He tried to make some in your kitchen and burned it so badly it would probably turn your cold into the plague. But what matters is that he tried. And that he buys you enough delicious inn soup to revive you.
He is more relieved than he wants to admit when you wake up looking and sounding so much better. He feared he would prove to be a total failure at taking care of you.
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hihihi can i pretty please get j, n, k, b and g for eiland? 👉👈 tysm if u do and have a lovely day ♥️
Yesss of course! Eiland is so fine 🔥 I hope you enjoy this, and have a lovely day yourself!
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
He’s a little reticent about claiming to have a favorite body part on himself. He views his body as really ordinary and plain, which is insane and needs to change, but you can’t fix it overnight. If he had to pick something, he would say his forearms. They’re toned from years of digging up artifacts.
If he had to pick a single favorite on you (which is difficult for him), he might have to say it’s your waist. He loves the way your body slopes and dips and curves there. He loves wrapping his arms around you there. Great to hold onto during sex, as well.
I would be remiss if I did not take this moment to mention that Eiland is an ass man. I will not be convinced otherwise.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Eiland is a good blend of silly and serious. Feels very natural. He has good intuition for what you need him to be for you; he can be lighthearted and fun, and he can make you feel like nothing else in the world matters but this moment. He takes cues from you and lets you set the mood. He’s just a decent man!
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
What’s the harm in a little self-indulgence? Eiland has never been one to deny himself a treat. He has a healthy relationship with masturbation, mostly as a form of self-care. It feels good and it’s not doing any harm. He’s very encouraging of you exploring your body, too. He wants you to show him what you like. He’ll gladly do the same once your relationship isn’t completely fresh. He’s way, way too shy to show off like that until he feels like he’s proven himself a consummate lover.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Lingerie kink x500. He simply loves seeing every sort of lacey and sheer and provocative piece of clothing on you as can be found throughout Aldaria. You’d send him through the roof if you studied what people in other times and lands wore to bed and surprised him with your knowledge one night. Seeing lingerie on you is his second favorite thing about you wearing it. First place goes to getting to strip it off of you. He goes slowly, appreciating and kissing every inch of your skin that he reveals.
Eiland is also a huge fan of mirror sex—especially if you started going at it before he quite finished getting you out of that lingerie. Taking you in front of a mirror is just incredible to him. He can see all of you, you can see all of him. It’s delicious.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Degrading you. Why would he ever? You’re the greatest treasure he’s ever found. Plus, he already trips over his words often enough when it comes to you. He would get no satisfaction from degrading you and doesn’t think it would be enjoyable for you, either, coming from him.
Eiland was not prone to lazing the midday sun away while his sister toiled tirelessly around town. No, he did his fair share of work for the village as well. He participated in toiling of his own, often in the blazing sun at dig sites or unsuspecting ruins. The museum was essentially his own abode. Unfortunately, Errol never took to the idea of Eiland setting up camp in the museum at night so he could continue his research. Nonetheless, Eiland ran around town day and night, taking care of museum or archeological business. He wished to expand the potential of Mistria and that surely wasn't possible if he wasted time on his laurels.
And yet here he stood, sun high in the sky as you chopped some firewood in front of your cottage.
He tucked himself beside the haloing apple tree next to your home, unknowingly slumping against the bark as he watched you effortlessly swing the axe up and over; the wood sliced in a perfect half, falling to the ground. His eyes swept over your form, void of your usual jacket to weather the autumn chill. Yet despite the lack of protection, he could see the faint shine of your forehead and exposed tummy. Sweat. They're sweating. He seemed to repeat this in his mind; evidently, nothing more important to him than the fact that you were outside in the sun, with your shirt lifted and skin sparkling like the finest jewels he'd ever seen. He could see your stomach flex as you swung the axe, your chest rising and falling in heavy pants.
The chill must be getting to Eiland as he shivered from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes. He seemed to take particular notice of the way the muscles on your back tightened and relaxed as you worked, the thin material of your shirt doing nothing to hide how fit you had gotten in all your time in Mistria.
Eiland briefly smiled, proud of how far you had come in the time you'd been in the village. You had managed to help not only the town, but the people who resided in it as well. He found it fascinating. And to anyone else but the two of you, it was obvious your progress was not all he had found to be fascinating.
As he watched you work, his mind began to wander to thoughts of more . . . intimate detail. How your arms would feel wrapped around him, your calloused hands caressing his body. His cheeks flushed with heat as his mind flashed with images of you above him, grunting and huffing with effort and exhaustion while your hair fell around your face like a halo. His mind suddenly flashed to images of you below him. Would you make the same sounds? Would you be louder? Higher pitched? Would you make him scream your name till his voice broke or would he be graced with your voice echoing his name like a prayer from your plush lips?
Eiland gasped as he slipped on the tree. He hastened to grab his cape to cover the tightening in his pants, the rustling noises alerting the Farmer a couple yard lengths away from him.
You turned and gasped in slight surprise at the berry-haired individual in your yard. Eiland fumbled forward as he caught sight of your surprise.
"My apologies, Farmer. Do forgive me, I came to relay a message and could not bring myself to disturb you." He bowed his head forward and walked toward you, albeit a little awkwardly.
You took in his brown skin darkened with a rosy tint and wind-washed hair. He looked a little startled, but otherwise alright. Maybe a little chilly, you note, looking on as he trembled slightly.
You laughed once. Then twice, before bending slightly in a fit of giggles. Eiland watched on in mild horror as you smiled wildly, although he found himself calming when he caught a look at your smile lines. You're not upset, he notes.
"You're still too polite to me, Eiland." Gods above, how he loved it when you said his name. His hand twitched by his side as he buried his fist into his cape as if it were a protective shell. You snorted, and Eiland swore he could forget his own name. "We've known each other for so long now, Eiland. You don't need to be so formal with me."
His face twitched with relief as he blew out a small breath of air. "Right, yes of course, you're right. I just, well, I came to tell you . . . something," his voice trailed off. You watched as he furrowed his brow in concentration. You stood straighter automatically, your smile falling just a pinch.
Was he—
"My, I seem to have forgotten why I came to see you." You tilted your head as he laughed at himself in embarrassment. You tried to ignore the small pang of disappoint you feel when you don't receive your answer. Eiland looked into your eyes and laughed incredulously. "I must have gotten distracted when I saw you—" He stopped short, his shining eyes bugging out of his head as he bolts his mouth into a thin line.
You took a step forward, a furrow in your brow and a small smile on your face as you crossed your arms over your chest. Your mind turned its mental cogs as you took in his flustered state.
"When you saw me what?" Your voice, barely above a whisper, sent a shiver down Eiland's spine. You dared not move, lest any sudden movement break the spell you and Eiland seemed to be under.
"When I—well, when—when I saw you were working," he managed to compose himself, if only a little, when you looked at him with your beautiful eyes.
You smirked, "Ah, I see. You must not have wanted to disturb me." Eiland cleared his throat, grateful that you found an answer for yourself without insisting that he talk any more than he already had. He surely wouldn't stay standing if you continued to silently look at him with your natural wonder and curiosity.
He began, his voice a mere whisper in the wind, "Yes, that's right. I wished not to disturb you, Farmer. It would be unbecoming of me if I interrupted you when you're hard at work." He so desperately hoped you bought into his fib. While it's true he normally doesn't want to disturb you from your work, he didn't want you knowing to what extent he could have waited for you. To what extent he would continue to wait for you, should you finally notice him the way he noticed you.
Unbeknownst to him, you could see through his shy parade at the moment. While it was not always clear to you, his feelings; your feelings were always clear.
You were in love with him. Pathetically in love.
"I see," your smile took on a twist in mischief. "If I may, you looked quite comfortable by my tree. How long were you there?" Your brows rose as Eiland began to sputter several sentence beginners without following through with any of them. His face grew impossibly red, the warmth traveling to the very tips of his ears. "Could it be-" you took another step closer, your hands clasped behind your back. "Could it be that you wished not to disturb, or you wished to watch . . . just a bit longer?"
Eiland's not sure he could hear you over the blood rushing in his ears. He'd been caught. He opened his mouth to defend himself; to say something—anything. But before he could so much as blink, you reached over to squeeze his arm gently. The touch sparked heat where you both stood, his arm feeling tingly as you lowered your hand. He sighed, his head coming down from the clouds momentarily as he watched you. Your smile began to rest in a small upturn, your eyes blinking slowly.
"Would you like to come inside for a bit, Eiland? I was about to start preparing dinner. You could join me?"
His throat tightened for a spell, before he softly muttered one word, "Please." You went to turn, beckoning him to follow when he cleared his throat. "I mean—I would be delighted to join you for the evening. Thank you, Farmer."
His lips curled into a smile as he finally released the rumpled cape he'd been holding in a death grip, his little problem gone for the distant future.
He skipped to catch pace with you as you neared the porch. "While we eat, you can tell me about your day. Maybe it'll jog your memory on why you traveled down in the first place, Prince," you giggled.
He found himself laughing with you. Was it funny? Not particularly. Was it embarrassing? Incredibly. Yet he found himself drawn to laugh himself whenever he heard your voice fill his ears.
You would wait for him.
You were patient. More patient than one could ever think. You could wait for him.
summary 𝜗𝜚 you teach your boyfriend all about sleepover activities. eiland x fem!reader (no use of y/n.) genre fluff, established relationship. cw kissing, reader paints eiland's nails, reader described to be very girly, not proofread. wc 1k
note from zanna requested here!
Eiland didn't quite see the point of a sleepover, but when you told him it was a long-standing girlhood tradition in the capital he became determined to do it right. So now he sits cross-legged on the floor with you, hair held back with a pink bow headband and a sheet mask stuck to his face.
Growing up, his sister hadn't exactly been the typical "girly" type. She liked fancy dresses, flowers, tales of romantic princesses, and looking pretty, but her real obsession came with extremely thought-out plans and schedules, scale models of Mistria's buildings down to the tiniest details, and anything and everything to do with checklists. Eiland was always too busy reading books in the library to take much note either way, so it's no surprise that he didn't know much about sleepover traditions.
However, you promised him that it would be fun (and also bribed him with fresh glowberry cookies), so he's set his expectations high. But he feels a bit squirmy dressed in a matching pyjama set to yours with fluffy slippers. The clothes aren't entirely uncomfortable, it's more so the sticky feeling of the skincare mask on his face that throws him off. He's not sure how you got yours to stick on your face so well when his keeps trying to slide off.
"How long was this supposed to sit on for?" he asks, tilting his head up to try to keep it from slipping off.
"Twenty minutes!" you supply, digging through your drawers in search of the next activity. Eiland wants to ask when he'll get to try your glowberry cookies, but he holds his tongue. It wouldn't be very princely of him to sound impatient, although you've never been one to judge his sweet tooth.
"Manicure time!" You plop down in front of him and spread out a variety of different tools, all distinctly pink and most of them glittery. Eiland doesn't have a clue what any of them could be for.
"Do I need to do anything? You know I'm not good with learning new skills."
"You just have to sit there and look pretty. Oh, and give me your hands, of course," you assure him, smiling at the tinge of pink that flares on the tips of his ears.
"I think I can do that…"
"Great! Now pick a polish!"
Eiland glances down at the bottles you have laid out in front of him. They are all different shades of pink, a mix of dusty and muted, bright and glossy and a few pastels. He picks out a softer pink, one that vaguely reminds him of a piece of old Aldarian fabric he studied for nearly a month as a teenager. He starts telling you about it as you work on his nails—everything from popular fashion silhouettes to accessible dyes. When it comes to history, Eiland has uncovered all the details.
You're a bit broader with your interests. Eiland is always impressed with how many skills you've acquired from cooking to carpentry to combat. You seem to be a natural at almost anything you try your hand at.
He always struggled to find his talents as a kid. Much like the rest of his family, he easily got consumed by tasks, hours ticking away as he lost himself in old manuscripts or hard-to-decipher scrolls. Adeline was always good at execution and planning, but he often got stuck in daydreams. There were few who shared his passion for archaeology or history, save for Errol and Terithia.
You like hearing about his discoveries, though. Anything that your boyfriend is passionate about is also interesting to you, no matter how long he could ramble about historical events or artifacts.
Over half an hour later, you finish with his nails, somehow before Eiland reaches the end of his explanation on traditional stitching methods. He seems more comfortable now that the sheet mask is off his face, only after questioning the benefits of such a product for someone who already has perfect skin nearly three times. He would always humour you in the end, though.
You take a break for cookies after his nails are dry, finishing an entire plate of them within minutes. Next comes a classic: truth or dare and would you rather's, another game that you fear Eiland doesn't quite get the concept of.
"Would you rather travel back five hundred years and witness pre-Alda civilization or kiss me five hundred times?"
You raise an eyebrow, "Is that supposed to be a hard choice? Of course I'd rather kiss you."
Eiland looks bewildered at how you chose so fast. "Is it not? I don't know which one I'd choose."
You cross your arms, "Wasn't that around the time of the Witch Queens rule? I don't think either of us would have lasted long."
"But imagine the discoveries! There's so much information lost to time. I would die for a chance to spend even an hour in those days."
"I'd still pick kissing you five hundred times."
"I think you'd get tired after 10."
"Is that a dare?"
Eiland doesn't even have to answer that. You can tell his eyes are gleaming with curiosity. How many times could you kiss him without getting tired? There's only one way to find out.
Although you start out strong, keeping the kisses short and counting out loud in between, you both soon forgot all about the dare. The plush of his lips, the faint taste of glowberry on his tongue, and his slightly disappointed look whenever you pull away quickly all get to you eventually. Eiland's not sure if making out is part of the usual sleepover traditions, but you don't seem to be protesting.
