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the-case-book-of-fanfiction · 4 months

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Crawl Home To Her

Ship: Astarion x fem!Tav/reader

Summary: As awful the feeling of blood on the skin is, sometimes it can be helpful, you have to admit. At least, when it comes to Astarion, blood is always helpful. You'll have to take his word for it—and that's oh so easy bathing with him.

Word Count: 5,461 words

Warnings: sexual content (18+) blood, gore, nudity, sexual & non-sexual touching, bathing each other, soft Astarion, established relationship, brief mention of past sexual encounter, dealing with past trauma, teasing from Karlach, mention of dismemberment, fluff & smut mix

18+ Warnings: brief fingering (f receiving), tiny bit of a hair kink, sensual touching, semi-public sex/nudity

Note: Part 2 of Burns Like Rum is coming soon! But here's a little something to tithe you over until the sequel (Sweet Like Rum) is ready!

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Shafts of pale sunlight fell on your face as you walked through the forest, your arms swinging at your sides, small critters running amok in the bushes around you. Birdsong filled your ears, pleasantly light and summery, reminding you distantly of a childhood memory you couldn't quite reach. The weather was warm enough that you were thinking you might have to change into something lighter. The few weapons you had on you were already starting to make you break out into a sweat.

For a day that had started with murder, the weather was surprisingly nice.

You hummed as you walked—the song pulled from your childhood, the words long forgotten but pieces of the melody clunking around in your head. You strung them together the best you could, tapping out a rhythm against your leg.

You were on your way to the waterfall you'd spotted several days ago while hunting. It was small and nothing too violent. The pool it fell into wasn't deep enough to drown you, nor was the flow of water all that fast. You trusted it—and the rock ledge behind it—would suit your purposes quite nicely.

Coming upon the pool was like stepping into one of the fairytales you had heard in your youth, sitting upon your father's knee in a tavern, listening to a traveller tell a story you weren't sure was entirely true.

It was guarded by willow trees with branches that swayed in a breeze you hadn't felt until you came upon them. Pushing the curtain of branches away revealed an almost perfectly circular clearing, the ground covered in vibrant green moss that squished delightfully beneath your feet and sprung back up when you stepped off of it. Patches of flowers sprouted all around, pink and yellow and purple blooms that grew up to the sun. The pool was as blue as the sky above, clear and shallow, surrounded by a few feet of soft white sand. The water shimmered in the sunlight, rippling over the pebbles that covered its floor. From the pool, the water flowed into a thin river that could hardly be called a river and out into the woods.

You sat by the pool's edge and pulled off your boots. They were just as bloody as the rest of you, the sticky and quickly drying substance staining the black leather. You splashed water over them and scrubbed with a cloth you had designated for this purpose that had once been grey.

Only after your boots were clean did you stand back up and step into the soft sand. You wiggled your toes, smiling at the feeling. You breathed in the crisp, sweet air. It smelled faintly of flowers and citrus, a scent that was familiar, though you couldn't place it.

You stripped slowly, hissing and wincing as you tugged at the places where blood had stuck the fabric to your skin. It acted like glue when dry, staining your skin and leaving a mottled pattern across your flesh. The fabric of your shirt had grown stiff with semi-dried blood.

One by one, you pulled off belts and straps holding weapons, the gloves you protected your hands with, your shirt, your trousers—until you were standing naked at the pool's edge. You gave yourself a cursory inspection, searching for any wounds you had acquired in the fighting this morning that you hadn't noticed; it wouldn't be the first time you'd walked away from a fight and realized you were injured only hours later. But, this time, there was nothing.

Usually it was Astarion who noticed you were injured, catching your smell in the air when it shouldn't have been. But you were drenched in so much blood already that you imagined it would have been very hard to pick out your distinct scent.

You waded into the pool, taking your clothes with you, and sat at it's deepest point. Standing, it reached your knees; sitting, it almost came to your shoulders. You scrubbed the blood from your clothes, using the soap you had brought with you.

You watched the blood and soap swirl together in the water and flow toward the river, a thin stream of red and bubbles slipping away from the crimson cloud surrounding you. You almost felt bad to ruin the clarity of the water, but the others—back at camp—were taking far too long to wash the blood from themselves with your limited store of water. This was better, in the long run.

Astarion would have a field day with this if this wasn't goblin blood, you thought to yourself, staring at the blood drifting just below the surface. He would drink it, from time to time, but never happily.

You scrubbed at your clothes until your fingers were stiff and sore and the blood was no longer coming out of the fabric. You inspected them and deemed them clean enough to put back on the moss, spread out so they would dry faster.

To clean yourself, you headed toward the waterfall. You climbed up onto the stone ledge behind it, reveling in the surprisingly gentle spray of water that reached you and the stillness of the water that it fell into, high enough to reach your knees.

You stepped under the water. It cascaded over you, dousing you in its coolness that reminded you of the first time Astarion had ever touched you—

—gentle hands, cascading down your sides—fingers lifting your chin so you would meet his gaze—a kiss to your forehead—a hand on the small of your back—his lips on your own, warmer than you had anticipated—his fingers in your hair, keeping your head off the ground—his hand slipping between your legs—his little giggle when you shuddered beneath him—the pleasured sigh from his lips as he slid inside of you—

Stepping out from underneath the water, you shook your head, banishing the memory. You had spoken recently about all of this. He'd told you, "I don't think I want you to think of me in terms of sex." He'd said, "I don't want to be just a body for you, darling." And though he'd teased you that you were more than welcome to "sustain yourself" (his words) with your memories of him while he took time away from intimacy, some part of you still felt like you violating his wishes any time it was his body that you thought of, rather than of, well, just him.

You wiped the water from your eyes and knew your tears had mixed in with it; Astarion had been very vulnerable with you, so you knew his reasons for it all. You had two responses: either unbearable sorrow that he had been forced to endure it all (which the current cause of the crushing weight in your chest), or blinding rage that birthed the desire to see Cazador's head on a spear.

You carded your hands through your wet hair, trying to work out the tangles. Your fingers came away covered in watery blood.

"Mind if I join you?"

You jumped, eyes flying open, and looked up. Leaning against the stone wall was the vampire himself, a gentle smile on his face. Gods, how you loved that smile. In this light, you couldn't tell his eyes were red and his fangs were hidden. If you didn't pay attention to how pale he was, you could imagine he was just an elf again—the life he deserved.

Astarion still wore his clothes, which were slowly darkening as they soaked up the spray of water and splattered with as much blood as his handsome face, but his boots were placed neatly next to yours on the moss. He'd cleaned them already; how had you not heard him before?

While he waited for your answer, aware of your admiring gaze on him, he pulled his shirt off over his head, mussing the curls you loved so much. He stripped quickly, nearly falling over when his trouser leg caught on his foot, and left his clothes in a pile on the rock ledge. Perhaps you were imagining things, but his skin looked paler than it had this morning, when you'd been rudely awoken by a horde of goblins invading your camp.

You held your arms open to him. "I'd like that very much."

He stepped into your arms, wrapped his own around your waist, and buried his head in your neck, breathing in deeply. "My love," he whispered, his lips against your skin. He kissed your neck softly and pulled away, cupping your face in his hand, to look into your eyes. "Are you alright?"

You nodded. "I'm okay."

"No injuries this time?" Astarion's eyes slid down your naked body, examining, his gaze concerned when it had once been sensual. You felt yourself relax in his arms, at ease with his concern. It felt real, honest in a way you hadn't had a chance to be yet. It was natural, somehow, to be checking each other for injuries in the time you finally caught together, away from the others.

"Not this time," you said, leaning into him. More watery blood dripped from your hair and across his chest, leaving streaks that made it look like he'd just returned from a rather messy feeding.

He kissed the top of your wet head. "Good." He leaned away to smile at you. "I was worried you'd run off to take care of your injuries by yourself, if only to keep me from smelling the blood."

You shook your head. "If only we'd been attacked by something you could drink from, satisfy your hunger for a few days." He smiled weakly and you knew the thought had been on his mind, too. "What about you? Are you okay?"

He spread his arms and did a little twirl for you. You giggled at his antics, glancing over his skin, pleased he was comfortable enough to even be naked with you. "Yes, darling. Not a scratch on me."

The two of you looked at each other, your hair already damp and clinging to your head, and his curls slowly being matted down by the thick mist of the waterfall. His ears poked out, more noticeable than normal.

Astarion bent and picked up your bar of soap. "May I help you wash off all this grime?"

"Please," you said, your voice soft but as loving as you could make it, your eyes fixed firmly on his.

He lathered his hands with soap and scrubbed gently at your skin. His nails, kept trimmed and neat, were hardly more than a light sensation as he worked at the dried blood until it crumbled away from your skin and ran down your body in red rivulets. His touch was soft, caring where it had once been lustful and groping. You leaned into his touch, enjoying the sensation of his fingers digging into your tired muscles, and held him. You adjusted your hold on him as he moved across your body—an arm draped across his shoulders, a hand on his bicep, your fingers against his chest, your head on his shoulder.

You looked up at Astarion, blinking quickly to keep the water out of your eyes. His gaze remained fixated on your hips as he gently washed off the blood, but he smiled, aware of your stare.

"See something you like?" he asked, tone playful.

"Someone I love," you corrected. He looked up at you, a tender smile growing on his lips. "Someone I love dearly." You leaned close, cupped one side of his face, and kissed the other. "I love you, Astarion."

He kissed your cheek, too. "And I love you." His lips found yours. He kissed you with a sweetness that simultaneously broke your heart and mended it. You wrapped your arms around his waist. He hummed happily into your mouth and cradled the back of your neck.

The pair of you fell into a tight embrace. You felt the adrenaline drain from you and leave you limp in his arms, your hot skin going cold under the water. Despite how suddenly you must have slumped against him, Astarion held you with ease. He gave the crown of your head a quick kiss, then made an unpleasant sound of surprise from the back of his throat.

"Darling, do you mind if I wash your hair? There's an awful lot of goblin blood in it."

You forced yourself to stand up straight on your own, still holding his sides for support. "Oh, yes—that would be from Karlach throwing one she'd just chopped into over my head." Even as you said the words, you felt the blood splattering into your hair again and shuddered.

Astarion grimaced. "Let me help you with it, then." He lathered his hands and put them in your hair. As he fell into a rhythm, you closed your eyes and let him doing the work, your thoughts drifting...

At first, you weren't sure why you had even woken in the first place. The light coming in through a crack in the tent's opening was still the watery and grey color of pre-dawn, much earlier than you usually woke. You frowned and pushed back into Astarion, his arm squeezing you tighter, sleep once again tugging at your eyelids.

And then you heard a shout, vicious and loud. It was close to camp, maybe even in camp. The shout came again and you realized it was Lae'zel's war cry.

All at once, the sounds of a battle filled your ears. You jerked awake in an instant, clambering onto your knees and shaking Astarion awake next to you. Of course the one day Astarion decided to indulge in the very human activity of sleep was the day you and your friends were attacked.

"What's going on?" he mumbled as his eyes flickered open, his words slurred together.

"Come on, grab your knives," you said, pulling your lightest set of armor on over your clothes. You were suddenly very relieved Astarion had decided skin to skin contact was a bit too much for him last night. "I think we're under attack."

He woke just as quickly as you had. He swore, dragged a quick hand through his hair, and grabbed his knives. He waited until you had your own weapon in hand before he opened the curtain flap of his tent.

The camp was a sight to behold. Already it was trashed and overflowing with goblins. Some were already on the ground, their blood oozing everywhere in the dirt and grass. Gashes from Lae'zel's sword seeped blood and gristle, if she hadn't horribly disfigured the corpses and turned them into little more than lumps of flesh. Many of them bore scorch marks that ranged from minor burns to melting flesh. It smelled horrendous and nearly acidic; you bit back the bile in your throat.

A dismembered arm fell at your foot. You kicked it away on instinct, looking up to see Karlach ripping a second goblin limb from limb.

"Now that's just vile," Astarion said, still looking at the arm, a fang poking out over his curled lip.

"Complain about it later," you said, grabbing his chin and giving him a quick and customary 'good morning' kiss. "We've got to help the others."

"If you insist."

Astarion ran to Karlach's side; you headed for Shadowheart and Gale. Wyll was approaching, too, cutting a path through the goblins.

"Morning, you two!" you said cheerily. "How'd this happen?"

"We're not sure," Shadowheart said, kicking a goblin in the face as it ran at her with a scream. "Lae'zel said they came from the north, just over those hills."

"Odd. I wonder if we camped too close to them for their liking, and now they're trying to do something about it. Are goblins territorial creatures?"

Gale grunted, casting another fireball. "Enough chatting. Let's just kill these things and figure out where they came from and why later. Got it?"

"Fair enough," you decided. "Whoever kills the most chooses dinner for a week."

"I'll take you up on that," Wyll said from behind you. "I'm dreaming of a good meal for once."

Astarion's hands sliding out of your hair abruptly brought you back to reality, to his body pressed against yours and the waterfall at your back, shielding the two of you from the world.

"Where'd you go?" he asked, voice soft. You could feel his fingers toying with the ends of your hair, curling it on his fingers.

"Back to the fight," you admitted. "I just keep wondering how they snuck up on us."

"No matter now," he said. "We'll let Lae'zel criticize us all for not anticipating every possible disaster when we get back, but not yet. Not here."

He went back to massaging your scalp, despite the blood being long gone, and your sighed happily. He smiled and kissed your forehead, adding pressure. A content whimper slipped from your lips and you blushed instantly as his eyes lit up; he'd heard far more obscene from you, yet still the slightest sounds you made embarrassed you and delighted him.

"My, my, the noises you make for me, lover," he teased, giggling. He wrapped his hand in your hair and tugged, hard enough to draw a loud moan out of your chest.

Astarion covered your mouth with his hand, his eyes playfully wide. "Shhh, unless you want the others to come looking. We're not that far away from camp."

Heat rushed through your body. "Oh, gods, Astarion, I'm— I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to— And I certainly didn't expect it to be that...that loud—! I..."

He swallowed your frantic apologies with a kiss. Against your lips, he whispered, "If you can keep quiet, though...I can grant you all the pleasure you want. You need only ask, darling."

Your heart skipped several beats in your chest. You put your hand up to his face. "Oh, I don't... Star, I don't need you to, I wouldn't want you to...feel obligated." He pulled his forehead away from yours to see your face. "We agreed not to do anything until you're ready. And that wasn't that long ago, so... I don't want you to be uncomfortable—"

Astarion cupped your chin with his hand, dragging his thumb across your lower lip. The words died in your throat. He met your gaze, his crimson eyes open and honest, and said, "Your pleasure is a gift. Even if I don't want to be touched yet, that's not stopping me from touching you. Only you can stop me from touching you."

"Star..."

He pulled you into a tight hug. You wrapped your arms around him, suddenly too aware of the raised scar you felt against your arms. "I trust you. Wholeheartedly. I trust you to...to respect my boundaries. To check in with me. To see when I'm uncomfortable. You've already done it, again and again, and proved that you're worthy of that trust. And do I look uncomfortable now?"

You studied him. His pupils were blown. His eyes told a story of contentment. The tenseness you had once noticed laying deep and dormant in his muscles was gone. He looked at you with a fondness you realized now was a profound trust and he stood utterly relaxed in your arms.

So you answered him honestly. "No."

"Exactly, darling. I'm not uncomfortable. I want to do this for you, if that's what you also want. I feel...safe with you. I've never felt like this around anyone before," he admitted, a bit of sadness creeping onto his face, "and I don't want to ruin it. I don't know... I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm going to try to do right by you. So if you want me..." He placed his hand low on your abdomen. Your stomach did flips. He put his lips against the shell of your ear. "Tell me, darling, because I certainly want you. All I ask is that you not touch me, not just yet."

You whimpered. "Please, Star. I promise not to touch you, I promise. But please touch me."

"That's my girl," he whispered. "Spread your legs for me, no need to be so nervous."

You readjusted your stance, widening the space between your previously clenched thighs. His hand filled the gap, cupping you gently. You sighed, leaning your head against his chest again, looking down to watch his ministrations.

Astarion pressed his palm to your clit. You watched his wrist move as he slid his fingers along your slit, teasing you and never quite touching you where you needed him. You whimpered as his fingertip lightly ghosted your entrance, just barely dipping inside before he moved his hand back up, his fingers toying with your clit.

"That's it," he whispered in your ear. "Make those quiet, pretty sounds for me. Show me how you feel."

You rocked your hips against his hand. "Astarion, please..."

He kissed your temple. "Feeling good?"

Your broken moan was your answer. He chuckled, sliding his hand up your side, taking your breast in the palm of his hand. He rolled your nipple between his fingers, making you gasp and buck your hips against him. He closed his lips around it and sucked gently.

"More," you whispered. "Please. I need...I need you."

"Alright, darling, alright," he said against your skin. He rubbed your entrance for another moment, then slid his finger inside you. You clenched down on him as you sighed your pleasure. He curled his finger inside you, rubbing away at your walls, and you gasped loudly.

Astarion grinned. "Make those noises. Moan for me. I want you to show me how good this feels, show me you want me." You gripped tightly onto him, one hand on the back of his neck and the other on his hip. Your breaths grew heavy and your whimpers louder. "Yes, that's it! Be loud for me, my sweet, the loudest you've ever—"

A branch cracked in the forest. A voice called out your name, then Astarion's. You jumped a mile and Astarion's finger slipped out of you. You stared at each other with wide eyes.

"D...did you hear that?" you asked. "Or am I hearing things?"

As if an answer, the voice—Gale's—shouted again, "I know you're over here, I can see your boots!"

"Shit," Astarion sighed. He craned his head to peer around the curtain of water. "What the hells do you want?"

"Is she with you?" Gale asked. "Shadowheart sent me to find you both, the rest of us have all finished washing up! There's water left for you."

"That's what we're trying to do, Gale!" you called, reaching an arm through the waterfall and waving at him. "Use the water for something else, we'll make do here."

He harrumphed. "If I had known this was just a few minutes away from camp, I would have come to wash up here ages ago."

You and Astarion exchanged a look. So much for a secret getaway spot.

"Be back soon, or Karlach will start worrying," Gale said, in the tone of a chiding parent. "And no funny business!"

"Oh, shut up!" Astarion shouted, the tips of his ears turning a deep pink. He ducked behind the water again and holding you close. You barely held back your giggles while the two of you listened for Gale to walk away. One slipped out and Astarion hurriedly covered your mouth with his hand. You licked his palm and he pulled it away quickly. "You weirdo!"

You wrapped your arms around him and leaned into his chest. "Yes, but I'm your weirdo. You love me anyway."

Astarion pushed a strand of your wet hair behind your ear. "I love you anyway," he admitted, with a fondness that turned you into mush in his arms. He held you close for several moments, then asked, "Do you want me to continue?"

You thought about it, then shook your head. "Not just now. I suspect Karlach will be on her way to investigate the waterfall I didn't have the decency tell anyone about very soon."

"Very well," he said. "I'll finish you off later in my tent, then. As long as you can keep quiet for me, darling." He gave you that charming smile that made your stomach do flips.

"I thought you liked me loud," you teased.

Astarion rolled his eyes, playful and flirtation in such a comfortable way that it warmed your heart more than any of his touches ever could, delightful as they were. "Only when I have you all to myself, lover." He nipped at your neck, his fangs scratching but not breaking your skin. "Your moans are mine."

You stood together like that for several more moments, his hands on your hips and your arms looped around his neck, your foreheads pressed together. You exchanged dainty kisses, basking in each other in the few minutes left you had alone.

At last, you planted one firm, lingering kiss to his lips. "Let me clean you off," you said. "Though you're going to have to crouch for me to get your hair." Most of the blood and grime had been washed away by the waterfall's spray, but his silver hair was still speckled with it all, and you could taste it on his lips—sour and gritty. No wonder he only drank from goblins as a last resort.

Astarion bent his head down, pressing his forehead into your shoulder and holding you by the waist. You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp and smiling (but saying nothing) every time your touch managed to pull a soft whimper or moan from him without him realizing it.

You washed his body anyway, wiping away the remaining grime and massaging his muscles. You enjoyed the way he relaxed in your arms, quietly asking for more or less pressure.

"My back," he said, voice quiet and almost timid. "Can you...?"

"Are you sure?" you asked, frowning.

He nodded and turned in your arms, exposing his back to you. You started slowly, massaging his upper back and shoulders before working your way down, giving him plenty of time to tell you to stop if he needed to. But he leaned into your touch and responded with more of those gentle and timid—but happy—sounds.

You kissed the nape of his neck when you were finished, rested your head against his back, and wrapped your arms around his waist. His hands found yours and laced your fingers together.

"Thank you, my love," he said. "I've never... No one has ever done that for me before."

You hugged him tighter. "Any time you need me—I'm here. I will always be here." You stepped away and guided him out of the water with a hand. "Come on, we should head back."

The pair of you helped each other dress, though neither of you were wearing anything that required the help. You suspected Astarion just wanted to keep you close; when he got into his cuddly moods, it lasted for hours at a time. You would sleep wrapped up in your vampire's arms, safe and comfortable, tonight.

You were both pulling on your boots when Karlach found you.

"There you are!" she said. "Why didn't you tell us where you'd run off to?"

You shrugged. "I wanted the peace and quiet," you said honestly. "Besides, you all take forever to clean off."

Astarion snickered. "She's right about that."

Karlach sat on the moss, staring at the waterfall. "Well, you're right about one thing, soldier—this place is peaceful."

You hummed your agreement. "Yes. I'm glad we camped near it, or I never would have found it."

"How did you find this place?" she asked.

"Hunting," you said.

"Really? I assumed it must have been when you and Astarion sneak out so the rest of us can't hear you having sex." You choked on air and she laughed. "What? He found it easily!"

Astarion spluttered. "Because I could smell her!"

You sighed. "Karlach, we stopped sneaking off ages ago. We don't need to, we sleep in the same tent now. Rest assured, if anything is happening, it's happening silently and the rest of you are none the wiser to it."

"That doesn't make me rest assured."

You laughed. Astarion smiled at you, the kind of smile that made his eyes seem a little less dark and made you really remember that he was an elf.

"Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm going back to camp," he said. "I'm sure there's much to discuss about these...impertinent creatures who keep attacking us." He kissed your cheek and whispered into your ear, "I'll see you tonight, darling. What we do is up to you."

Before he could leave, you reached over and held his cheek, kissing him firmly on the lips. He smiled into it.

"Lovebirds," Karlach groaned, rolling her eyes, "will you please get a room?"

"The next time we stop at an inn—yes," Astarion said, winked at you, then disappeared into the woods.

You gulped. "I pity whoever is in the room next to us."

Karlach snorted. "I pity you and your poor cervix!"

"Karlach!" You splashed her with water and she roared with laughter.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding! Only slightly."

You huffed, scooped up your weapons, and started back to camp. Karlach followed.

"I mean, in all honesty, you two were so loud that first time we all heard you at camp, even though you snuck away. Kept us all awake, but you sounded like you were having a good time. So clearly he's doing something right, but can you take all of that every time? You were walking with a limp the next morning—"

"Okay, let's change the subject," you said loudly, heat racing through your body. Remembrance pulsed through you again, ghostly touches and reminders of just how easily Astarion made you scream.

She giggled. Gods, she was spending too much time with you and Astarion; he was rubbing off on her. "Oh, yes, because what would poor Gale say if he heard?"

You rolled your eyes. "It's not Gale I'm worried about, it's Astarion. If he hears you, he's going to become insufferable."

"Isn't he already?"

You whacked her with the flat end of your sheathed dagger. She laughed, putting her hands up in surrender.

The others were cleaning up camp when you arrived, scrubbing blood from tents and carpets and hauling away corpses and severed limbs.

Gale waved when he saw you, then jerked his thumb toward Astarion. "Didn't he just wash?"

You looked over at your vampire, only to find him feeding on a goblin. He looked up at you and grinned sheepishly, a trickle of blood sliding out of his mouth and down his neck.

"I just washed him, actually," you said dryly. "Astarion, you aren't that messy of an eater. What on earth are you doing?"

"Oh, so now you deign to eat the goblins," Karlach scoffed.

He shrugged. "What? I'm hungry!"

You spluttered. "You could have just asked me!"

Astarion wiped his mouth with a feral grin. "Well, I'll keep that in mind later, darling." He winked at you and then blew you a quick kiss. He shoved the carcass into the woods and went into his tent, closing the flap behind him.

Gale sighed heavily before looking back at you. "That one. Are you sure you want to choose that one?"

"Yes, Gale, I want that one."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

~❊~

Night fell. One by one, the others retired to their tents. Only Karlach and Gale remained awake when you left the fire and slipped into Astarion's tent.

He was laying on his side, reading and drinking blood, the picture of leisure. He closed his book immediately when you laid beside him and pulled you flush against his body.

"There you are," he said, snuggling into your shoulder. "I was beginning to wonder if you were coming."

You reached up and dragged your fingers through his perfect curls. "You don't have to wonder about that ever, Star. As long as I live, I'll be coming home to you. Even if I have to crawl."

"Gods, I love you," he said, wrapping himself around you. You kissed the top of his head.

"I love you, too," you whispered. He sighed happily and cuddled into you, sliding one of his legs between your own and settling there. A few minutes later, you felt the pressure of his knee against your clothed crotch. "What are you doing, mister?"

He grinned at you, showing both fangs. "Finishing what I started," he said cheekily. He began undoing the lacing at the front of your pants. "Now, just lay still for me, dear. And please do your best to keep quiet—I'd hate to have to cover that pretty mouth with my hand. Again."

☞ ❊ ☜

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Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Acunin

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fuckmyskywalker · 2 months

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↳ Anakin Skywalker ༉‧☆

[あなたのいいひとになってあげてもいいわよ]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ[私を追いかけて、私を壊してください]ㅤㅤ

— One shots : ! ! !

➸ Babysitting [SMUT] : Being Anakin Skywalker's babysitter has plenty of rewards... fucking him is one of them. Just don't get too obsessed with him.

➸ Shaping [SMUT] : He will break you into pieces, just to build you up again.

➸ Yes here [SMUT] : The Chosen One is trapped in an unhappy marriage... he is also a certified cheater. [CHEATING]

➸ Please understand [SMUT] : He did this for you.

➸ Egg [SMUT] : Anakin can be such a crybaby. [SUB!ANAKIN]

➸ Heavy Sleeper [SMUT] : It was your fault. Be careful what you say out loud. Anakin may be around to hear it. [SOMNOPHILIA]

➸ Pussy pleaser [SMUT] : Anakin Skywalker, the designated pussy pleaser of the Galaxy.

➸ Trigger [SMUT] : Let's play a game. [GUNPLAY]

➸ General! [SMUT] : Teach him a lesson. Not touching without permission. [SUB!ANAKIN]

➸ Forbidden [SMUT] : He just... hates you. So much he needs to fuck you in your worst moment. [STEPCEST]

➸ Let me hear you [SMUT] : Boydyguard? Yeah, he is taking care of you in more ways than one.

➸ Meditating [SMUT] : He is a bitch. But you always come back crawling.

➸ Gross Anakin [SMUT] : Title.

➸ Sticky notes [SMUTTY] : Professor!Anakin finds that secret that you hide at the back of your notebook.

➸ Bleed me to death [SMUTTY] : You will do anything for him. [EROGURO, BLOOD]

➸ Cannibalism w/ Anakin [SMUT] : He wants to be one with you. In every way possible. [EROGURO, DARK]

➸ Crossdresser!Anakin [SMUTTY] : He just looks so pretty in your underwear.

➸ Taken [SMUT] : He thinks your coworker is annoying as fuck. [TOXIC!ANAKIN, TOXIC RELATIONSHIP]

➸ Hypersexual (AOTC Anakin) HCS! [SMUTTY–DARKISH] : Sometimes he can be too needy.

➸ Frustrated (AOTC!Anakin). [SMUT] : General Skywalker needs a stress reliever.

➸ Throat bulge (Clone Wars!Anakin). [SMUT] : Title.

➸ A friendly hand (Bsf!Anakin). [SMUT]. : Always happy to help.

➸ Best mommy. [SMUT. BREEDING]. : Tracking, counting and fucking.

➸ Pretty girls don't cry [SMUT. STEPCEST]. : Tears are for babies.

➸ Headboard. [SMUT]. : Grab it harder and dick her faster.

➸ Quiet [SMUT. CNC.] : Fantasies can be true, I guess.

➸ Massage. [SMUT. DUBCON]. : One thing leads to another… and Anakin knows a little trick to relax you.

➸ Next to the river. [SMUT. Nymph!Reader.] : A goddess, or that’s what he says. Humans are so funny.

— Anakin Skywalker AUs.

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 masterlist!#anakin skywalker smut

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dumplingsfordays · 6 months

Text

that can be arranged...

jing yuan x fem!reader

genre - smut

summary - pure smut

cw!: nsfw (sexual themes), size kink, virginity loss (reader), praise, pet names (doll, baby, darling, princess, etc), begging, swearing, mutual masturbation at first, c in p, reader has female genitalia, missionary, creampie, implied relationship

note - he's so 😩. literally I would die for his man titties I can't

art credit!

and as always, thank you for reading :)

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

He thought that it was so cute when you tried to bring yourself to orgasm. Your fingers plunging in and out of your pussy, covered in slick, made his mouth go dry and cock strain against the material of his slacks. He had you splayed out on the bed, surrounded by pillows to make you as comfy as possible while he sat in front of you, transfixed on your furrowed brows and swollen lips and that beautiful clit of yours.

His hand squeezed harder at the bedsheets that he was grasping when you let out a whimper at a particularly pleasurable intrusion.

"Jing Yuan, please help me," you pant. "Help me come, wanna feel you, please-"

"Just a little more, darling, can't have you take my cock unprepped," he rasps in return, moving a hand up to his bulge and starting to palm it gently, at which your eyes immediately shoot down to the dark outline of his cock. You start fingering yourself harder, faster, anything to reach that peak that you so desperately crave. He's fixated on your hand, too - seeing it move like that has his face redden further.

You start rutting your hips up now in desperation and your whines and small moans fill the bedroom as you near your orgasm. His jaw clenches and eyes half-lid - it takes all the restraint that he has to not pounce and shove his dick into your soft pussy. He does wonder how it'll feel, though, but not for too long - he'll come embarrassingly quickly if he gets any closer to your trembling form.

"Keep going, doll," he coaxes with a lazy smirk, "you're almost there. Come for me, know you can do it. Fucking come on your pretty fingers for me."

Your moans get higher and higher in pitch as he beckons you until you finally cream around your fingers, moving your hips in tandem with his palm. He groans when you reach your first climax of the night, endless praises of "good girl" and "so beautiful, darling" pouring from his mouth like a river. You flush when you pull your sticky fingers from your cunt - when Jing Yuan notices, he lets out a huff of pure desire as his eyes lock onto yours.

"You feel ready, pretty?" he asks, removing his hand from the pretty obvious bulge in his pants in favor of resting it on your bare, warm thigh.

"'M ready, Jing Yuan," you whine, "please just fuck me, please, need to feel your cock inside me."

He lets out a shaky breath at your desperate words - your eyes always look so innocent and yet you say the filthiest things. He remembers when you had a conversation about consent a few weeks back and you practiced giving it (at first you couldn't even say 'please fuck me' fully because you always stopped before the expletive), and now look at you. Glassy-eyed, lips bitten to crimson, and pleading for him to just finally put it in - his heart swells with love and lust when you look up at him like this.

"Alright, darling," he says as he gives an appreciative squeeze to your thigh. "You know what position you want me to take you in?"

"Mm, I don't," you whisper, "you can pick for me."

He nods and pushes you down gently into the pillows so that you're at a small incline and lifts your legs over his shoulders, kissing your ankles as he unbuckles his belt and frees his aching cock.

You can see that it's twitching from time to time in impatience, standing up real tall and warm. Jing Yuan, ever the tease, grinds himself against your wet cunny, coating his cock in your slick before leaning in to kiss you. He's passionate and sweet, cradling your face with one large hand as he lines his fat cock up with your pussy with the other.

"Tell me if at any point you want to stop and I will," he warns as his golden eyes meet yours. "There's no shame in it, yeah?"

You wiggle your hips against him and whimper. "Okay, but just please put it in, can't wait anymore."

He nods and leans down to kiss your neck while he bullies his hard cock into your dripping hole. You arch your back at the sensation - even his tip fills you so perfectly and as he inches the rest of it in little by little, groaning into your skin as he does so, you raise your hands to claw at his back. The stretch is unimaginably pleasurable, and even with you having come once, you're still sensitive, so taking a cock of this size is making your head spin.

"So tight, baby," he praises with gritted teeth, "doin' such a good job. Just a little more to go."

You sob as he finally bottoms out, gliding your hands across his heaving back. He's practically shivering from euphoria - his half-lidded eyes roll back and he places both of his heavy hands on your hips. Jing Yuan leans back and, finally, begins to move.

His thrusts are slow at first. He doesn't want it to be uncomfortable or painful, so he's holding back on ramming his cock into you until you say that you want more. Even as he rolls his hips into yours cautiously, Jing Yuan checks in on you - he caresses your ruddy cheek, asking if it feels good, to which you reply with eager nods and drawn-out moans. His snow-white hair tickles your skin as you breathe slowly. It makes you feel so full, you think, as your toes curl when he hits a particularly good spot. You might choke on his cock and it isn't even between your lips.

"Feels so good, Jing Yuan," you praise with a half-moan, half-sigh, "think you can go faster."

He shudders and his hands grip your hips tighter. He's so unimaginably turned on right now - there's something different, and so absolutely alluring, about it when you praise him than when he praises you.

His brows furrow and he stares deep into your eyes, trying to burn the image of your gorgeous face into his mind. Lips parted in a sigh, eyes lidded, cheeks dusted with pink - he wouldn't trade this sight for anything in the world.

"Of course, doll," he finally replies in that soothing baritone of his. "You're so fucking good for me, gotta repay you."

You feel yourself bounce as he pistons his hips harder and harder into you, the whole bed shaking and creaking under your combined weight. Jing Yuan resumes kissing your neck, this time more sloppily and uncontrollably, and one of his gruff hands reaches your breast, kneading it almost hungrily. You throw your head back with a silent scream at the sudden change of pace - this feels so foreign but so delicious, so blindingly amazing that your eyes roll back.

He's purring into your neck, muttering dirty talk and praises that has you seizing up around him.

"I'm makin' you feel s'good, yeah? That pretty pussy's clenching around me like a vice, doin' so - mmh - well... gonna fuck you dumb, sweetheart, you'll see how good it'll feel to come on a thick cock for the first time."

You whimper and shake below him. Your orgasm is so close, just so close, you can't take it anymore, the sweat and kisses and groans and his fat cock splitting you in half is enough to send you over the edge into violent, ruthless pleasure. You sense Jing Yuan twitch inside you, your walls squeezing and milking him for all he's worth as he reaches a similar, quivering climax. He nearly growls as his warm cum fills you up to the brim and with a final thrust into your wet hole, he pulls out and collapses onto the bed beside you.

"Did so well, princess," he smirks once again, turning his head to look at your fucked-out expression. His shaggy bangs are still stuck to his forehead and you brush them off with a tired giggle. You nuzzle into his neck and wrap your arms around his chest in a hug.

"Felt so good," you reply with a lazy smile, "can't wait to do this again."

Jing Yuan's eyes widen for a split second and then darken as he crawls down to kiss your glistening cunt. "That can be arranged."

#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai #jing yuan #jing yuan smut #jy smut #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan hsr #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x y/n #jing yuan x gender neutral reader #bro def has the juiciest man tiddies #the dilfiest dilf to ever dilf

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sunflowersteves · 1 year

Text

crazy || j.m.

chapter two of ain't no sunshine

pairing || joel miller x f!sunshine!reader

summary || you get injured during a patrol and Joel is too occupied to assist your wound. what happens when someone else has to take over?

author's note || i hope you all enjoy chapter two! since the second to last episode, all i could think about was that smirk joel gave. oop. i promise next chapter will be fluffy. now that it's spring beak, i'm hoping to write much more for this series. can be read as a stand alone but follows a series! 5.8k!

warnings || jealousy, injury, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, murder, blood, possessiveness, brad has his own warning (ifkyk), unrealistic recovery time, delirium, joel is self deprecating and self sabotaging, arguments, SMUT, rough sex, fingering, praise kink, taunting, degradation, dom joel, joel is a little mean, but don't worry because soft joel makes an appearance, soft sex, creampie, [18+ only!!]

series masterlist || part one || masterlist

Crazy for thinking that my love could hold you I'm crazy for trying and crazy for crying And I'm crazy for loving you

You weren’t sure when it happened—when the blade twisted into your gut, cutting your flesh and piercing your intestines. You could feel the pain. It was dull and throbbing as wet crimson seeped into your t-shirt.

You heard a cried-out yell, and turning toward your side, you saw it. You saw the knife that was once in your stomach was now in your hand—lodged into your attacker’s skull. Your body had acted on instinct and perpetrated that familiar gut feeling of violence and revenge.

You pause, just for a moment. You could feel the adrenaline kick into your system, and a numbing pain flushed out your senses. The blood felt warm and sticky—prompting the sleepiness to feel calming, and it urged you forward into its safe surroundings.

But then you felt it. Panic. Panic rose in your neck as you looked around for someone. Your hand darted out to try and find them, but your mind was starting to become blank from the fuzzy warmth of pain.

Joel.

You needed Joel.

But all you knew was that Joel wasn’t by your side. Joel wasn’t here. He wasn’t holding your hand. He wasn’t whispering into your ear about how everything was going to be okay.

You didn’t know where he was. Then, you collapsed to the snowy ground, white dots fluttering around you. It was almost comforting the way the snow danced around you like soft wet pillows. You opened your mouth. You wanted to say something—you wanted Joel, but nothing could leave your lips.

It all happened too fast—too soon after just leaving the commune for a patrol. You and Joel had spotted someone walking too close to the river, but you and the rest of your party hadn’t seen the tracks behind you. You never noticed four men creeping their way to surround you.

It almost felt astonishing, really. You, Joel, Tommy, Maria, and Brad were not new to the dangers of survival, especially you and Joel.

The two of you and Ellie have had your fair share of raiders and non-friendly people alike. You and Joel protected Ellie in every way possible, punching your way through cheekbones and splattering scarlet liquid.

You and Joel weren’t new to picking out tracks and finding the smallest detail of other life. So how could you miss this?

“I’ve got you.”

Your brow crinkles. That doesn’t sound like Joel. You peek open one of your eyes to see a man—what was his name? Oh, yeah. Brad.

You didn’t want Brad. You wanted Joel. You wanted the scruff of gray hair poking out loudly against the soft brunette ones. You wanted those honeyed brown eyes staring at you in concern and anguish. You wanted Joel to hold your hand as he gently took you into his arms and carried you all the way back.

Finally, you speak. “Joel. N-Need Jo—”

“I know, but he’s not here.” He placed his hand on your abdomen and applied a great deal of pressure. Your breath hitches, but then your lips fall into a frown.

“Joel isn’t here?” Tears start to water your lash line, but none of them fall. If you weren’t preoccupied with the open wound on your side, you would have noticed the twitch of a smirk on Brad’s lips. He was purposely attempting to make you feel alone like you've been abandoned by your partner.

Your eyes start to sting, a fresh tear falling down the side of your face, right below your temple. Something was wrong. Something felt very wrong. You knew Joel would never ever abandon you, so why did Brad say that?

You could feel yourself become dizzy, and the white specs that fluttered around you started to become hazy. You opened your mouth, and your eyes felt so heavy. You could hear someone telling you to stay awake, and it didn’t feel like Brad this time. Maria? Tommy?

You weren’t sure, but it was no use. You let the sweet lullaby of sleep take over you, and your eyes fluttered closed.

You whispered Joel's name over and over.

═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═

Tommy hadn’t seen Joel act like this in quite some time. Everyone saw their fair share of grumpy glares and pissed off, snarling Joel, but never this—not since the very beginning of the outbreak.

Joel had just been so irate. He was so entirely impassioned with rage—furious and calculating as his fist connected with the raider's face, over and over. But there was something else, too. Fear and hurt swirled and ignited between his brown eyes at the sight of the blood that seeped into your clothing.

He watched it all happen. He watched the knife lodge into your stomach. He saw your blood that almost became fluorescent in the white snow. He felt his chest seize as his eyes followed your fist that was puncturing the knife into the raider’s skull.

He saw the way Brad flew to your side, the way that he yelled at you to stay awake. He watched as your eyes fluttered close, and desperation rose in his throat. He tried calling out your name, but he couldn’t get to you.

One of the raiders wrapped his arm around his neck and choked him—no doubt the raider using Joel’s vulnerability of pure agony to his advantage.

He couldn’t get to you.

He repeated it over and over in his head. He grabbed the raider’s arm and used the weight of his body to fling the guy forward. Joel didn’t waste a single second. He grasped the gun that was flung out of his hands earlier to the raider’s face.

The clock was ticking. He couldn’t get to you.

“Wait, wait, wait, I can help—”

Joel pulled the trigger, releasing the bullet and popping loudly against the barrel—shoving the nine millimeters of metal into the man’s head. He fell limp to the ground, and the hands that were clenching around Joel’s forearms slowly dropped.

He looked over in an instant to see that Tommy had knocked out the last of the men that had surrounded all of you. His head snapped back over to you, feet crunching against the snow with each step.

You weren’t moving—not even your eyes were fluttering—and Joel felt the whole world swallowing him whole. His heart thumped loudly against his chest as his knees hit the ground, no doubt bruising them in the process.

Brad was on the other side of you, applying pressure to the wound still. “About time, old man.”

Joel ignored him—honestly, he was not even sure he really registered his presence at all. All Joel could do was hold your face, not caring about any of the blood that smeared onto your cheek. “Baby?”

His eyes skated across your face to see a sign—a twitch of your brow, a pull at your lips, anything. He could see the tears that started to gloss over his vision. “Sunshine, please.”

He paused, desperately searching. “Please.”

Tommy says Joel’s name softly as if he were going to snap at any moment. He flinched a little when Joel moved. The dark depths of memories from before rushed through his brain. His mind almost became blank—so did Joel’s. Was this going to be the same?

Maria was the one that snapped them out of it, holding her broken wrist to her chest. “We need to leave. We have to get her to the clinic.”

Joel's arm loops itself under your neck, and Tommy pulls your legs up to make it easier to lift you. He scoops you up into his arms, pressing a watery kiss to your forehead. He needed to get you home, and he needed to do it now.

You murmur just barely under your breath and so quietly that he almost misses it. He wasn’t quite sure if you were even conscious.

“Joel.”

═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═

Worry, why do I let myself worry?

Wondering what in the world did I do?

Crazy for thinking that my love could hold you

The crackling, sultry voice of Patsy Cline flooded into your ears. Your eyes blinked open to see familiar plain white walls. You breathed in to smell fresh pine and some reminiscence of Joel’s cooking.

Home. You were home.

You could feel yourself groan as a dull pain spread from your abdomen to your chest. Your head felt a little fuzzy, and you tried to get your bearings, pushing yourself up from what felt like fluffy pillows.

“Easy. Woah, slow down.” You smiled at the high-pitched voice. Ellie.

She grabbed your hand, the other guiding the small of your back to sit up. While your wound had mostly healed by this point, there was still going to be a lot of internal discomfort.

“How long was I out?” You rasped out, your vocal cords rubbing like sandpaper against your throat. You coughed out, and Ellie was quick to bring a glass of water to your lips.

You gulped down heavily, the relief of the cold liquid soothing your aching throat. You cleared your throat and handed the water back to her. “How long?”

Ellie bit her lip, an uneasy expression lifting onto her face. “Six weeks.”

Your mouth gaped open. “Six weeks? Oh my god—”

She tried to quickly play it off as if she, Joel, Tommy, and Maria weren’t shitting their pants every day at the thought of you never waking up. “But Patsy Cline woke you up! I played all your favorites, especially the ones that you and Joel like to sing all the time, and I knew for sure that she was going to do the trick and—”

“Where’s Joel? Is he okay? Did they hurt him?”

Ellie winced at the mention of his name, but her heart also thumped against her chest. You were literally stabbed in the stomach and almost died multiple times, yet you still thought of someone else. You still thought about the safety and well-being of Joel.

His typical sunshine. Her typical mother.

She gently squeezed your hand. “Joel is fine. He only had a couple of bruises.” She paused before answering your first question. “He’s, um, at Tommy’s.”

You just blinked, feeling the disappointment crash against your chest. “Oh.”

Oh. That was okay. He didn’t need to be constantly by your side. Maybe he just needed some rest or comfort from his younger brother. That was okay, right?

Right?

“Is he sleeping?” You could tell by the way she avoided your eyes that something was wrong. What that was, you weren’t exactly sure. He wasn’t injured, so what else could it be? You gulped—suddenly feeling parched again.

“No…He’s awake. I think so, anyway.” She winced again and knew that she wasn’t helping his case at all. “He hasn’t exactly left Tommy’s to come here.”

When Joel carried you all that way to the clinic in Jackson, he collapsed on the hard ground and cradled you in his arms. You felt cold. You felt unmoving. The entire walk back, he felt helpless—breaths of hopelessness crowded his brain, and all he could think about was that he lost you.

When they tried to take you into the operating room, Joel almost wouldn’t let them. He was clouded by fear and burning with uncleansed rage.

He lost you, and he did nothing about it. He lost you, and he did nothing about it. It repeated through his head until he could no longer think, hear, see—anything at all—but those words. He couldn’t let them take you—he wouldn’t let them take you from him.

Finally, after realizing that he was wasting the precious time of your beating heart, he let them carry you into a back operating room. He never left the clinic that night, even after the ten-hour surgery.

After that, though, Joel wasn’t the same. At least, he didn’t feel like it.

While Tommy knew that and Maria knew that, you and Ellie didn’t. Ellie hadn’t seen Joel in six weeks—just Tommy checking in and bringing her the basics of food and water and helping you. Maria would come too, to bathe you and give you medicine. At first, Ellie thought that Joel had just been hurt or he was forced to go on another patrol.

But no. She realized Joel just hadn’t visited you at all. She was angry at first, stomping over to him and giving him a piece of her mind. As she calmed down, though, she knew Joel cared about you. Deeply.

He was just…Joel.

He was unemotional and brash. He was jarring and inanely grumpy all the time. He has violent tendencies and a very distant, dark past. He pushed everyone away from him—only gave affection within a ten-foot pole radius. God, he really, really pushes the people he loves away.

She knew that she could handle that. She was stubborn and hardheaded like him, so it was a bit easier. She just was worried you wouldn’t be able to handle that.

Ellie and Joel were your worlds. You even told the two of them that when star-gazing one night on the roof of your cabin. You were sweet and doting. You were so calculating and headstrong when you needed to be. But if Joel wasn’t careful about this, she knew he could break your heart.

You go to stand, suddenly feeling a burst of anger rush through you. Ellie could tell by the way your eyebrow twitched and the hard thumps of your socked feet sauntered across the floor that you were very mad.

“Look, please just—”

You hear a crashing noise outside of the guest bedroom door. Both of your heads whipped over to the loud sound. You would have almost let fear take hold of your chest if it weren’t for Joel bursting through the door not a second later.

His chest heaved up and down, rapidly, and eyes wide at the sight of you standing. You were in some sweatpants and one of his flannel button-ups. Your hair was a little damp. He had no doubt it was from Ellie washing it earlier this morning.

“Joel.”

His eyes don’t even acknowledge Ellie’s presence. They’re just scanning your body over and over. You seem okay. You seem good. You seem alive.

His body carried itself forward before he was even thinking. His arm stretched out, and the pads of his fingers stroked your cheek. He takes a minute to look at the ways your eyes shone from the light of the window.

He then retraced his hand so fast, as if your skin was a hot stove—sizzling and burning to the touch. He even took a few paces back. He could feel his eyes watering with each deep, dismal thought pulling him under.

“You’re awake.”

He said it so softly that you weren’t even sure you heard him right. You just stood there, mouth opening in shock at his reaction. You weren’t really sure what to make of any of this. Shit, you weren’t even awake twenty minutes ago.

Ellie cleared her throat at the awkwardness. “I’m gonna…go do things.” With that, she left the room, and a small ‘yikes’ escaped her lips.

There was a long beat of silence before either of you spoke. Joel still looked at you, though. He couldn’t help himself. He still couldn’t believe that you were awake. You were the one to break it, your mind was wandering too aimlessly at all of the unknowns.

“You didn’t visit me.” He opened his mouth, but you didn’t let him talk. “Ellie said I was in a coma for six weeks and you didn’t visit me.”

The cracking of your voice and the tears on your waterline broke his heart into two. It was split wide open and ached against his chest. “I-I couldn’t. I saw you layin’ there, darlin’, and I just couldn’t.”

You lightly scoffed. “Couldn’t or wouldn’t? I mean seriously Joel, who the fuck doesn’t visit their partner after they almost die and—”

“What do you want me to say, huh? That I wasn’t fuckin’ there for you? Is that what you want me to say?”

You purse your lips, your hands flying in the air. “No! I–I wanna know why, Joel. I wanna know why you couldn’t even see me.”

His nostrils flare at your tone—crackled and gloomy as it echoed across the room. “Why would you want to see someone like me? Huh? Brad was all over you, and—”

You couldn’t believe him right now. You almost didn’t, but the swirl of green that rested in between his eyes said otherwise. Joel didn’t visit you in your own shared home after being seriously injured because he was jealous?

“Oh, my god.” You wanted to laugh, and you did. Laughter, the kind that was dark and fluid, bubbled through you. “You can’t be serious.”

You could tell there was something he wasn’t telling you. His hands were tight around the doorframe, and his eyes were glued to the ground. You wanted to pry a bit more, but as Joel always says, “You’re an absolute sunshine until that fire ignites inside of you.”

“Maybe I should go to him, then.”

Yeah, that got his attention. His eyes flickered up towards yours, mouth opening slightly. “What?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “You heard me. Maybe I should go see Brad. I should tell him to take me out to dinner at the bar. He seemed super interested a couple of weeks ago when he—”

“You shut your fuckin’ mouth.” Your mouth snapped closed as Joel towered over you. His nostrils flared, chest pulling up and down at a rate that was too calm—too calm while the red between his eyes burned a hole in your own chest. “You think Brad can please you? hmm?”

His fingers grip your jaw so that you’re forced to maintain eye contact. Not that you would give the satisfaction to Joel from the throb of your core anyway. “Yeah, Joel, I think he can.”

His eyes squinted, his face leaning even closer than before. “So if I shoved my hand down, your pussy wouldn’t be drippin’ for me?”

Yeah, okay. He’s got you there. “Huh? Gonna say anything, darlin’?” You defiantly squint your eyes back up into his. His tone was anything but sweet—it was snarling and patronizing as his brows furrowed even further.

Before you could even open your mouth to give a snarky comment back, Joel aggressively shoves the sweatpants you had on down to your ankles. “You’re a fuckin’ brat, you know that?”

He gets on his knees, fingers pushing between your folds. Sure enough, you’re wet. As if on cue, Joel smirks as his finger swirls to grab your sweet nectar. “F-Fuck you, Joel.”

“Yeah?” He groaned into your ear. His thumb presses deep into your clit, sparking your hips to jolt at the pressure. “I don’t think so, darlin’. I don’t think you deserve my cock.”

You gasped, “J-Joel–”

He slipped his index finger, pushing through your tight walls. His cock twitches at the whimper that left your lips. “All I’m doin' is fuckin’ you good with my fingers.”

His torrid voice breaks you whole, sweet accent slurring his words together. “Can Brad do that? Could he make you dumb from just his fingers?”

He wants you to answer him, but he knows the pleasure is starting to blossom in your lower abdomen. His fingers always made you cum so fast and so hard. They always stretched your aching pussy so wide and scissored the perfect angle into you.

So, he was going to take his sweet time.

He chuckled. “C’mon, you weren’t this shy earlier. I want you to answer me, sunshine.” Your head tilts back in a gasp, the nickname rolled off of his tongue, and it was so blissful. “Can Brad do this?”

You shake your head, mouth opening, but nothing comes out. You were sensitive—really sensitive. “You can do it, pretty girl.” God, he was enjoying this a bit too much, it was starting to drive you insane. “Answer me.”

The demanding tone struck through your chest, and you almost didn’t give in. All anger practically washed out of you when he inserted another finger—curling them with each thrust. “No! H-He can’t. B-Brad can’t fuck me like you do.”

A devilish smile sprouts from his lips at your affirmation. “That’s all you had to say, sunshine. I fuck you better, hmm?” The squelch of your juices running down his fingers sounded almost ethereal to his ears. “Look at you,” he coos, and you almost believed that it was sweet. “Fuckin’ dumb from just my hand.”

He pauses, almost taunting like. “Do you want my cock?”

Your fingernails dug deep into his shoulders, his name clouding over your mind, and it was all you seemed to think about. “Yes! Please, Joel! I-I want your cock. N-Need it, please.”

“Well, you can’t fuckin’ have it.” His fingers shove even deeper through your walls—finding that spongy spot that makes you mewl. “You don’t deserve it, sunshine.”

You weren’t sure how much more you could handle as the pressure builds, making your head feel a bit fuzzy. “Joel, please. I’m—”

Oh.

Oh, you see it now. You almost say it. The apology almost rings through your ears. He wanted you to apologize for what you said to him, and it almost worked. Almost.

You may be happy and considerate the majority of the time, but you were angry. Irritation still bubbled up between your chest, and you weren’t about to let Joel get away with something so easily.

As if he knew, his eyes flared in anger. “Fuckin’ cum.”

“I–I won’t—” You say defiantly, trying to make him more frustrated. He knew you better than that, though. He could feel the clench of your walls and the grip on his shoulders became increasingly tight.

“Fuckin’ cum right now, sunshine, or—” Your mouth hangs open as your orgasm breaks you whole. It flutters through you as he works you through it, thighs shaking and Joel’s name chanting from your lucid tongue.

“Doing so good for me, yeah?” His hand thrusts into you, thumb still stroking your puffy clit. He groans at the gush of your juices dripping down to his wrist, and he leaned down, tongue swirling to just grab a little taste of you. “Y’taste so good, darlin’.”

Your head rolled over to nod. Your eyelids were heavy from the pure pleasure that rushed through your head and down to your toes. His fingers slip out of you easily, and plops them into his mouth, sucking every drop of your orgasm.

He takes his fingers out of his mouth and pulls himself up from the ground. Something sinks in between his stomach, though. He can feel the dread of confrontation unfolding in his eyes.

The way you look up at him, Joel knows he doesn’t deserve this. You don’t deserve this. Your hand fluffs through the back of his hair, and he thought that your touch would bring him the comfort he needed. But it doesn’t.

He feels like he is going to be sick. He was mean to you. He degraded you. He acted like he didn’t trust you. You could see that he was pulling himself away from you with the way that his eyes snapped shut and his head shook back and forth.

You tried to reel him back in, wanting him to know that you were just as angry as he was. You were just as turned on by his rage as he was by yours. But it was no use. Joel Miller had made up his mind already.

“I’m going for a walk.”

Your face fell as he bolted from the room. Pain swirled in your stomach, and a sob escaped your lips. You suddenly felt sick to your stomach, and everything just felt so wrong. There was a sunken feeling in your chest—a feeling of a hole burning through your heart.

He left you.

Again.

═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═

Tap, tap. Maria opened the door to your bedroom just a little, peeking her head in. “So the rumors are true. You are awake.”

You turned the pages of your favorite book, not even looking up at her just yet. “Awake as anyone can be.”

She smiled up at you before fully pushing the door open and entering the room. She had a glass of water and a handful of pill bottles—probably expired, but they have been probably keeping you alive.

“Any pain?”

You shook your head, but that was far from the truth. You just didn’t have any pain from the area you got stabbed. You just had lots of heart and head pain.

“Good. Since you were out for quite some time, your body was able to mostly heal.” You noticed the small bag in her arm and figured it was most likely some more medical supplies.

You gave her a faint smile and turned another page—eyes skimming the small words. “Thank god. You know I can’t stay still for long.”

She chuckled, nodding in agreement. She gave you the pills you needed. You swallowed them down, gulping the fresh water. After handing the water back to her, you looked down at your book again.

She looked over at you, and a smile widened on her lips. “He read that to you every night, you know.”

You blinked, confused. “What?” You dog-eared the book and placed it on the bed next to you. You had somewhat of an idea, but the shock was still evident. “Who?”

Maria smiled and set down a couple of more pills on your bedside table. “It’s some pain medication if you need it.” After you nodded in acknowledgment, she sat down next to you on the bed. “Joel.”

Your eyes widened slightly. She continued, “After Ellie would go to sleep, he would sneak into the house. I told him he didn’t have to do that, but well, you know him.” She knocked her elbow with yours. “He just sat there all night reading that book to you, over and over. He’d come back to our place at around seven in the morning before Ellie woke up.”

She paused, looking right at you. “I know how he is. I know you know more than any of us, but that day? I hadn’t ever seen him like that. He was broken. He muttered under his breath the whole way back that you were gone, and it was his fault. I kept trying to tell him that you still had a steady heartbeat, but he was just—just fully convinced.”

She gave you a watery smile, noticing the tears streaming down your cheeks. You wiped them with the back of your palm and sniffled from a runny nose.

“Oh, Joel.” You sighed, feeling slightly guilty, but you knew he would hate that. You didn’t know. He specifically chose not to tell you or Ellie anything because that was what he does. He pushes you away because he thinks he doesn’t deserve you or this life you have. Your silly, precious Joel.

“I’ll leave you to it. Get better, okay? I need my movie-watching friend back.” She pats you lightly on the back before standing up from the bed.

You laughed, nodding in agreement. “Oh, I’m sure it was hell trying to watch Little Women with Tommy.”

She huffed, a hand on the doorknob. “You have no idea.” And with that, she left the room. You stayed there on the bed and tried to dry your tears.

You felt an ache burst through you. You knew Joel wasn’t telling you everything. You knew it.

There was a part of you that still felt guilty, even though you know you shouldn’t. You just didn’t know what those six weeks felt like as he waited for you. He pleaded every night for you to wake up. Every ten hours after finishing the book, he would ask you all the same.

You finally had enough of this. It was all his decision to wallow in his own darkness and sorrows—and you were going to put an end to it.

You took the duvet off of your lap and sauntered across the room. Your hand twisted the doorknob, and just as you whipped the door open, you were met with a hard chest. Joel’s hand was fisted, hanging in the middle of the air.

Your eyes widened as you looked up into his deep eyes. “Joel.” You whispered. Tears already started to water against your lash line from the sight of his creased brow and worried gleam in his eyes.

“Darlin’.” He grunted. His hands clasp gently against your cheeks, and it pulls you forward. His eyes flickered across your face, and his thumb moved to wipe your tears. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that, okay? I-I just didn’t want to tell you the truth, and I just–I used Brad as an excuse—”

“Joel.” You bit your lip, trying to shake your head, but his hands stopped you. His other thumb moved back and forth in adoration on your cheek.

“I just–I know I failed you. I know I failed Ellie too. I made you a promise that I would never do that again, and I broke it.” His voice cracked, and he let out a huff of air.

“Joel, you didn’t.” Your hand moved up to his chest, stroking back and forth, and he closed his eyes. “You didn’t fail anyone.”

He shook his head. “I did. I did fail you. When I saw the b-blood that—” He paused at the gut-wrenching memory, “I couldn’t get to you. I-I couldn’t help you, darlin’.”

Your breath hitched. Joel was worried about trying to help you. Not saved—like you were some damsel in distress. Not saved, as in pushing you aside and using his ego like others would. Not rescue you. Not recovering you. He wanted to help you.

“Oh, Joel.” Your hand goes to cup his cheek, “Look at me. Joel—” His eyes snapped open, and he stared at your breath-takingingly beautiful, teary face. “You did help me.”

He opened his mouth to disagree, but you beat him to it. “You carried me all that way, and no one else could do that. Maria had a broken wrist, Tommy has noodle arms,” Joel lets out a snort, “And we can’t rely on a complete stranger to carry me back home. You did. You helped me more than anyone else in this damn world.”

A sob escaped his lips at your sweet affirmation. Tears cascaded down his cheeks, and he surged your cheeks forward to his, lips desperately pressing against your own.

They swallow you—burning a fire inside of you and your hands gripping his chest so tight that you were afraid he would vanish if you hadn’t. He licks into you, moaning.

“Sunshine.” He said, a smile turning up on his lips. He pressed his own back onto yours, so chaste and tender that it makes your knees buckle. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

His lips moved to your neck, and he whispered that against your skin.“I’m sorry. I love you.” His hands flittered down to your hips and gradually started to move you toward the bed.

You whispered right back at him. “I’m sorry. I love you.” You could feel his lips curl into a smile on your skin, lips still pressing against the base of your neck and your collarbone. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

He gently laid you down on top of the bouncy mattress, hovering over you. He started to take off his jeans, and you do the same with your sweatpants. He gently unbuttoned his shirt, but his eyes never left yours. In fact, they were boring into you. They were glittering under the dimmed light. They were bursting full of love and worship for everything and everything you.

He leans over on top of you, and one of his hands gently massages your breast. You wantonly sighed, pressing kisses onto his scruffy gray beard. A hand gently rests on your hip, sparking a hot sensation on your skin. His thumb swipes back and forth, and it takes everything in you not to let tears roll down your face once more.

“I love you, sunshine.” He said it with such adoration and love that your heart seizes in your chest. His cock slipped into you easily, the arousal from earlier and the dripping now mixed and connected.

“Joel, I love you—I love you.” He moaned at the clench of your walls. His lips lowered to press soft kisses to your chest. He thrust deep, the head of his cock piercing through you. The sweet contrast of Joel was making you feel dizzy.

He pulled back just a little. He wanted to look at you—he wanted to see you. Your mouth hangs wide open for him, whines and whimpers escaping your throat. “J-Joel! Feels so good, Joel.”

He smiled, “Yeah, Darlin’? Love my cock, don’t you?”

You gasped, preening into him. “Yes! Joel—” He thrusted into hard and his deep, hips brushed up against yours. “F-Fuck, baby—”

“Y’Pussy feels so fuckin’ tight, sunshine.” His lips pressed so gently against your skin, tasting the salt that seeped through. He groaned, hips slapping up and puncturing through you.

“Joel, I love—love you.” You whined. His hand moved to swirl circles on your clit. You could feel the pressure build and burst through you.

“Gonna cum, sunshine? Yeah, that’s it. Cum for me. Cum all over my cock.”

You mewled, and he pushed into you a couple of times before you scream his name. “Joel! Joel, I—I love you, I love you.”

“Fuck, my sweet sunshine—” He grunts, coil snapping on his own and clashing against his abdomen. His cock twitched inside your walls, and he spilled inside of you.

He pumps you full, while muttering under his breath. “I love you, sunshine. I—fuck—oh—I love you.” You whined his name over and again while he did the same.

You clutched onto one another, desperate to be as close as possible. His lips pressed against your cheeks, leaving soft and gentle kisses in his path. He moaned as he felt your walls clench once more around him.

You opened your eyes, flickering over his wrinkled lines and strong nose. You wanted to hold him forever, and he no doubt felt the same.

After six weeks of pure agony, Joel finally felt whole again. He had you by his side, and he felt so loved by your presence.

You were glad to be finally awake. The toll of being under for so long definitely affected you and your body. But, you couldn’t be happier than to share a little moment with Joel. Your Joel.

Finally, after quite a while of enjoying each other's company—pressing soft kisses and caressing each other's skin—you break the silence. “We should probably go tell Ellie we’re okay.”

He nods in agreement, but he makes no sudden movements. “Jus’ five more minutes, darlin’?”

You gave him a big smile. “Yeah. Five more minutes, handsome.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #the last of us #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #tlou #tlou fanfiction #smut

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twola · 7 months

Text

To Name A Vista

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

It's beautiful - this hidden place he's brought you - but you'd have to admit, nature is not the only view you're admiring.

When you awaken, blinking yourself back into the world of the living, it's only a moment before you arch your back against your bedroom that your body becomes your own again.

You yawn, stretching your arms above your head and your legs out straight, the small of your back bowing upward. As you settle back down on the rumbled bedroll, you run a hand down your face, brushing your hopelessly tangled hair from your cheeks.

As you stare up at the pitch of the tent, the morning light filters through the canvas as your hand settles over your stomach. A smile crosses your face.

Your cunt aches sweetly, a dull pain you're happy to feel within the cradle of your hips. A blanket lays discarded, twisted around one of your legs. Otherwise, your skin is bared completely within the tent, gooseflesh prickling as a soft morning breeze pushes through the hanging flap of the tent.

You roll over, yawning again, frowning slightly as you feel the stickiness of dried sweat on your back and something else entirely between your thighs.

Sitting up, you roll your shoulder backward to shake out the sleep from your body. Discarded clothing litters the ground, trousers and shirts, gun belts, and a chemise bunched up in the corner of the tent. A pair of men’s boots knocked over.

Your fingers grasp for the tent’s flap, drawing it open slightly to let the early morning sunlight in, birdsong becoming louder as you squint against the brightness.

It’s certainly picturesque, here along the banks of the Dakota River, tucked away from roads and trails, the gentle waters flowing south to collect in Flat Iron.

You grope for the discarded blanket on the other side of the bedroll and wrap it around your shoulders as crawl out of the tent to stand. Stepping past the campfire that’s been re-lit in the morning, you notice a pot of coffee heating up in that old beat-up percolator.

You’re drawn by some unseen string to the riverbank. Your bare feet slide slowly over weathered river stones to where your toes touch the water’s edge. Pulling the blanket around you closer, you smile as the birds chirp loudly overhead.

Arthur stands several feet out in the water, gently lapping at his thighs as he scrubs at his shoulder idly, staring off into the distance, Mount Shann looming large miles away.

Nude as the day he was born, you are transfixed, gazing unabashedly at your lover’s body. The lines at his neck and elbows where sun-kissed skin meets what’s usually hidden beneath his clothing. Scars, marks, a smattering of dark, wiry hair. That slash on his shoulder from a coach robbery in Colorado. The circular mark on his bicep when he was shot in Arizona. New, pink-red lines scratched into his skin on either side of his spine. No, those weren’t battle wounds, those were love marks - carved into his skin by your blunt nails as he thrust himself inside your body, over and over and over again last night.

A smile creeps over your face as you note a faint pink imprint of your hand on one of his ass cheeks.

He rolls his shoulder, still unaware of your gaze on him. Blading his body sideways, he leans over, cups river water between his hands, and brings it up to his neckline, splashing it to cover his chest, idly scrubbing at wet skin.

You cannot help but stare at his large cock hanging prettily between his legs. Even with how many times the two of you climbed into each other last night, heat flares in your belly as you feel wetness gathering in your cunt. You rub your thighs together absentmindedly as you trace the paths of the rivulets of water down his chest, down the muscles of his abdomen, as it weaves through the dark curls of his pubic hair and drips off of his cock.

You’re smitten, there isn’t any denying it.

This was all fairly new between you - and maybe it’s still those early days of a relationship where you can’t keep your hands off of each other. At some point when the gang was traveling from the west, the simmering tension between the two of you boiled over, and after a night around the campfire and a tad too much whiskey, you awoke in Arthur’s bedroll, thoroughly satiated and adorned with sloppy bite marks and suckled bruises across your décolletage.

That, of course, quickly devolved into sneaking into tents at night, groping behind wagons, and the occasional dalliance in the woods outside of camp.

When things had finally calmed down from the Blackwater mess, he grabbed you without much preamble, led you to the horses, swung you up on the rump of his new mare, and headed out of Horseshoe Overlook, muttering something about needing a break.

Not that last night was much of a break… the night was spent holed away in that little tent, between gasps and moans and cries of each other’s names for hours.

Arthur finally turns around completely and sees you, your hair spilling messily over the blanket you’ve wrapped around yourself. A grin slides across his face as he begins to wade toward you, unabashed in his nakedness.

“Get some sleep there, darlin’?”

You snort lightly as he steps closer to you, his arms reaching toward your shoulders, engulfing them in his large hands and rubbing them affectionately.

“You know me, need plenty of beauty rest.” You roll your eyes with a laugh.

Arthur snorts in return, bemused, “Y’dont need a lick of that to be a beauty.”

Oh, this man…

You give a smile as you let the blanket fall from your body and collect at your feet. You can hear him suck in a breath for a moment, then Arthur’s hands immediately dart to your bared breasts, his palms engulfing them as he squeezes gently. Your hands trail down his abdomen, fingers brushing the wet hair from just below his navel until it spreads out over his pelvis.

He smirks, “That getcha goin’?”

You grasp his cock, solid and warm even when he wasn’t aroused, and squeeze as gently as he holds your breasts, “So gentlemanly,” You stress the honorific by swiping your thumb over the head of his cock, and he shivers in response, blood rushing to his groin as he is coaxed to rigidity in your hand.

With an affectionate squeeze of his right hand to your breast, he quickly moves southward, reaching between your thighs as you begin to stroke him.

You step up on your toes and he leans down to press your lips together, opening your mouth immediately to him as a comforting rumble emits outward from his chest.

Your tongue presses up against his as his fingers slide between the seam of your body, collecting your dewy sheen as he rubs back and forth between that little nub of pleasure and the rim of your aching cunt.

Speaking of which, you jerk backward slightly when his pointer finger slips inside to the first knuckle. He pulls back immediately, hand landing on your hip. He blinks, a concerned look on his face.

“Y’hurtin?” Arthur whispers, patting your hip gently.

“Just a little sore.” You smile up at him and press your lips to his again quickly, “Been a while since we did that. And you ain’t exactly small neither.”

Arthur blushes, and you’re overcome with a fondness for him - for this, he blushes, considering every damn position he had you in last night.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t ever want to hurt you.” Your outlaw says forlornly, one of his hands moving to cup your cheek as a frown snakes across his face.

“Stop, stop it. You didn’t hurt me. Y’did nothin’ but please me last night,'' You shake your head with a smile, “Now let me please you.”

He cannot suppress a groan as you slowly let yourself down to your knees, the blanket saving you from being directly on the sandy soil.

“Oh honey - y’don’t -”

“You’re all clean and I’m still dirty. Let me.” You whisper in a sultry voice as you stroke his cock languidly. He swallows audibly as his hand moves to cup your jaw.

“Christ, you’re gonna be the death of me, my girl.” His thumb traces the apple of your cheek as you smile, turning your head to kiss his palm.

You move from his palm to the edge of his hip, where the hard-earned lines of muscle collect in a v-shape, tapering from his waist. Slowly, nearly painfully slowly, your lips trail across his body, from the crest of his bone to underneath his navel, where dark, wiry hair starts to curl.

Arthur cannot help but to gently rock forward against you, and you place your chin just below his navel, smiling up at him in complete adoration. He returns that smile as he pushes a strand of your hair behind your ears.

You grasp the base of his hefty cock with one hand and turn your head back to him, drawing the red tip of him to your mouth and kissing it gently before letting your tongue dart out against it. He hisses in pleasure as his fingers thread through your tangled locks to grasp your head. You take that action as permission to take him into the wet cavern of your mouth, inch by inch, tongue pressing against him.

Arthur groans aloud and throws his head back, slightly bowing his body toward you. You suck gently on the head of his cock before pressing forward to take more of him in, beginning to bob back and forth, taking him more and more with each movement. Your hand balances on his thigh, thick and corded with muscle.

He looks back down at you, breathing heavily, while you tip your head up slightly and make eye contact with him. Slowly, near aggravatingly slowly, you take him into your mouth, deeper, deeper, until you can’t look at him anymore, and your nose presses against his pubic bone. You choke slightly as the head of his cock hits the back of your throat, leaking precum

“Jesus fuck,” He curses, unable to stop himself from rocking forward slightly, and you moan around him, pulling your head backward to begin bobbing again.

You’re able to wrench the most beautiful sounds from him: pleads and groans and heavy, needy breaths as you suckle on him, the pain in your knees an afterthought as you continue to pleasure your lover.

“F- fuck-” he gasps, breathless and red-faced looking down at you, “I’m gonna -ngh- where…-?”

Your mouth releases from around his cock with a wet pop , a trail of saliva connecting you to him for a moment before it snaps.

He groans, panting.

“Wherever you want.” You purr.

Arthur whines, actually whines, this outlaw, this hardened criminal, this man hewn from the rough life he lives. His hand flies to his cock and starts pumping, obscene noises loud in your ear as his fingers slide over the wetness your mouth left.

“Lemme… lemme spend on them pretty little tits o’ y-yours.” Arthur gasps out, his hips rocking in time with the hand stroking his cock.

You smile, brushing your hair back over your shoulders and leaning forward as he begins to grunt, his free hand moving from your head to cup at his full, heavy balls as he strokes his cock faster and harder.

A groan spills loudly from his throat as his knees shake slightly, and warm spend splatters across your chest, slowly rolling down the curve of your breasts and between them.

Arthur pants, and with one last slow stroke, the pulsing of his cock ceases, a final lazy drip from the head of his member falls to the ground between them.

He stares at you as he staggers back half a step, trying to catch his breath. “Jesus Christ,” He breathes, a dopey, satisfied grin crossing his features.

Milky spend slowly trails down your chest, and he cannot help but stare. With a gentle shake of his head, he regains both his balance and wits, stepping back toward you and offering his hand to help pull you up.

“C’mon, my lady, let’s get you clean.” You’ve stood up for only a moment before he swings his arms down on either side of you and lifts you beneath your knees and back. You giggle softly as he pretends to exude an air of chivalry, wading slowly back into the river water carrying you like a princess - albeit a ‘noble’ lady with his spend splattered all over your chest.

The morning birdsong blooms along with the sunshine, near perfection in this small wooded area where the two of you are hidden away from the world.

Until your screeching voice cuts across the valley, that is.

“Jesus Christ, Arthur! The water’s cold as shit!”

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #red dead fanfic #red dead redemption #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 fanfic #twolafic

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cowgurrrl · 1 year

Text

Nobody asked but here are my headcanons for Joel as the ultimate girl dad™️

Gets Ellie into a routine as soon as possible so she knows what to expect in her day-to-day life. There’s not much he can guarantee outside of their home but he can make sure she eats, does her homework, and is off to bed at the same time every night.

Speaking of bed, he’s the dad who has a STRICT bedtime set. He can’t sleep until he knows Ellie is safe in bed and even though she’s a teenager he still makes her be in bed by 10 but he absolutely can be persuaded to let her stay up with a long game of cards, guitar lessons, or a movie.

Before Ellie, he would’ve been reckless if it meant keeping Jackson safe but now that he knows she’s relying on him he does things slower and safer.

Maria teaches him how to cut hair so he can help Ellie because he knows how hard it is for her to trust other people especially when they have something that could be used as a weapon so close to her head.

Definitely pushed her into the river while teaching her how to swim. She was pissed and didn’t talk to him until after dinner.

Ellie becomes known as “Joel’s girl” and neither of them correct anybody who says it

Slips notes into Ellie’s backpack when she’s not looking so when she gets to math class and opens her notebook, a sticky note with Joel all-caps handwriting falls out and reads, Why was the toilet paper unstoppable? And on the other side it says, because it was on a roll

He laughed about it for ten minutes before forgetting about it

Ellie secretly keeps all of his notes in a box under her bed

Teaches her how to play football in the spring when all the snow has melted and accuses her of cheating when she scores against him

“How could I cheat? It’s fucking football!” “You’re abusing an old man, you know that?”

Although Ellie never calls Joel dad, there’s an unspoken agreement between them. Joel hated Father’s Day after Sarah died but that Father’s Day they settled, two bouquets of flowers show up on the dining room table with a note from Ellie.

Saw these and thought of you, the note reads. One from me and one from her.

He cries the first time he gets them. He can’t remember the last time anyone gave him flowers.

Lord help the teacher who has to call Joel in for his first parent-teacher conference in twenty years. Everyone is Jackson knows how protective he is over Ellie and her teacher is only slightly terrified of him.

Ellie constantly steals Joel’s shirts and he pretends not to notice

He’s always looking for new tapes for her Walkman and asks every group that comes through Jackson if they have anything

Ellie ends up with three new tapes to listen to by the end of their first year of being settled

Joel knows he’s probably doing a million things wrong and danger is always lurking and the time they have together is fleeting but he does his best to be good for her. He apologizes when he yells, he shows up to her first guitar recital, and constantly reminds her how loved she is even if there aren’t always words exchanged

Sometimes it’s a hug, the squeeze of a hand, or a ruffle of hair but they both know it means so much more. Giving and receiving affection would’ve been seen as a show of weakness in Boston, a vulnerability that others can play into. Here, love doesn’t have to hide or be shunned to the dark corners of their lives. They can just be.

Who knew Ellie tripping Joel while playing football in the spring meadow meant so much more than anyone else thought?

Tumblr if you delete my last paragraph one more time I’m going to gnaw my arm off

#joel miller headcanon #joel miller fluff #joel and ellie #ellie williams #ellie miller #joel miller #joel miller the last of us #joel miller drabble #joel miller x reader #the last of us x reader #the last of us hbo #the last of us #ellie williams headcanons #i wrote this for me but you can read it too i guess #pushing my Joel Miller girl dad agenda once again

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euphoricfilter · 1 year

Note

“you cant chew on that, baby” Yoongi. Hybrid, daechwita (wth does tyrant Yoongi call his lover hm. +somehow fit in yandere? It’s ok if you choose not to lol) -🖤

the life of a tyrant:

pairing: yandere tyrant! yoongi x dog hybrid! reader

genre: fluff || daechwita au || yandere au || non-idol au || hybrid au

summary: it’s hard to hide you from the world when you’re on the run.

word count: 1k

tags/ warnings: yandere yoongi who's actually a huge softie, cutie puppy! reader, murder and blood, intentional lowercase

notes: prompt from this drabble game <3

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

you hadn't been into the heart of the town since Yoongi had picked you up off the streets years ago; the prettiest little diamond in the dirt. his only treasure, his one true love.

your freedom was that of a wild bird, wings clipped and confined to a cage of precious gold the moment you had taken Yoongi's hand, solidifying your soul with his, your very being belonging to him.

where he promised the world, in his little run down cabin, tattered clothing and the few gold coins in his pocket. holding all the answers to your problems in his rough hands that touched you like you were worth more than any jewel worthy of the king. and eyes that held an oath of the love you so craved, every fibre of his being simply existing for you.

in his eyes, the less the world saw of you, the better; his precious secret.

in all honesty, Yoongi didn't really have a choice when his face was plastered all throughout the country as one of the most sought after criminals.

though that felt like a little lie, an excuse even, when truly he knew the real reason for keeping you locked away in the cabin. you were ever so pretty, hybrid ears soft like the finest silk and face ever so kissable he really couldn't help himself, because as much as he knew it would become a burden lugging around another person, you'd had him wrapped around your precious little finger since the first time meeting.

it hadn't been hard to break you down, rough exterior merely for show, natural selection could really roughen up soft things like you. nothing a little bit of his love couldn't fix. it was cute how you'd tried to act like a big dog when truly he knew how much a puppy you were; who loves to get her ears scratched and laid over his lap of an evening until his fingers would brush through your hair and you'd shiver as he skims over the base of your tail.

Yoongi always been a little greedy, love always a little selfish, always wanting more than he deserved in this life, and maybe that's how he found himself in this position; his head worth more than any flashy piece of gold trickets the king could dream of buying for his may concubine that lay abandoned in his bedroom, a mere show to placate them of his absence.

you'd never been fussy when it came to Yoongi's plethora of rules.

when he isn't home, you never open the door if anyone were to knock, hide in the bedroom if anyone lurks around the forest, and when he takes you out to let off some steam- you never leave his sight, ever.

you never minded, because he made sure to let you run around the cabin three times a day, never once complaining about the sticky loneliness that clung onto your heart when he'd venture into town for food or new clothes. because Yoongi had already done enough for you, and you refused to become any more of a burden.

the life of a tyrant wasn't always quiet mornings with his pup, not always fishing in the river where really you had no qualms about chasing after any fish that caught your attention, nor the wet hugs that would follow as you smiled up at him, always brighter then the morning sun. your kisses warm as a spring breeze would caress both your skin until you were shivering and he'd wrap you in his arms without a care in the world.

the life of a tyrant isn't one that yoongi really wanted you to experience, your body too precious to be travelling so far in such a short amount of time, skin too fragile that the air of any foul man shouldn't ever think to even breath in your direction.

"you can't chew on that, baby" Yoongi pulls the string of the leather pouch from between your teeth, gold coins jingling from the force, "it's yucky"

his nose turns up at the man on the ground, pudgy hand still wrapped around his thick neck in an attempt to stop himself from bleeding out on the floor of his pathetic little fruit shop.

said man's eyes were still wide open in shock, mouth fallen open in what Yoongi can only assume to be excruciating pain, little glint of hope fizzling out, flame reaching the end of the wick as he'd begun to realise that this was the end for him.

it had been pitiful how the sick son a bitch had turned to you for help when him gazing at you had been the sole reason for his untimely death, but Yoongi supposes it had been fun to shove a blade in the back of his neck a second time just for the fun of it. niggling rage of the king's men galloping their way to his little cabin finally escalating; a shame that the poor shop owner had been at the burning end of his anger.

truthfully, Yoongi had been a little surprised you hadn't said anything. wondering if maybe this was the part of your story when you turn on him like the rest of the world, something a little humorous in the way you'd been more worried about his scent now that of the bastard that painted the floor red rather than the fact your Yoongi had killed a man before your very eyes without even a lick of shame.

"you asked me to hold onto it though" you frown, lips tugging down into the most kissable pout.

now, Yoongi was a weak man.

he bends down, pressing a sweet kiss to your pouty lips, "off the floor, pup, you'll get blood on your clothes and i don't have for you to change into right now"

sluggishly you push yourself to stand, "how much longer until we go home?" you whine, arms wrapping around his neck when he bends down, patting his back, ready for you to climb on, "my legs ache"

"just a little longer, puppy. how about you choose a snack for the way? i'll do all the hard bits, all you have to do is be pretty for me, yeah?

🌱 thank you for reading!!

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp @supernoonanyc

#bts fanfic #bts fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi fic #yoongi imagine #bts x female reader #bts hybrid au #bts hybrid fanfic #bts hybrid fic #bts hybrid x reader #bts x reader #bts non idol au #bts au #bts yandere #yandere yoongi #bts smut

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v4mpgutz · 3 months

Text

HOW TO DISAPPEAR, Rafe Cameron [ DRABBLES ]

— i know he's in over his head, but i love that man like nobody can

rafe cameron x ditzy gf reader

warnings — sfw + nsfw hcs, slightly mean rafe, ditzy (silly, forgetful) reader, corruption, choking, blood mention, dacryphilia, petnames (baby, sweets), dumbification, piv sex

note: *laughing manically* its time to give the people what they want

rafe never really thought he'd be in a committed relationship. it wasn't that he preferred non-commitment or that he didn't like being tied down — he just had some form of abandonment issues which he would never admit to.

so one day when ward welcomes you into tannyhill as wheezie's new babysitter (sarah was running around with pogue's and he didn't trust rafe), rafe is a stuttering mess at first. he saw you, this innocent, silly little thing who seemed as pure as a baby lamb and decided maybe he did want to date someone.

when you two began dating, he very quickly realised that you seemed a little out of your head at times. you were very clumsy, causing accidents such as running into doors to happen often.

-> you sat on the counter in front of rafe, sniffling and wiping stray tears from your cheeks as he gently applied rubbing alcohol to the bloody gash on your hand where you'd chopped a little more than just capsicum.

"such a clumsy little thing, huh?" rafe teased with a chuckle as he gently patted your thigh once he finished. "gotta be payin' more attention, baby," he tutted with a shake of his head. "stop bein' so up in the clouds, yeah?"

rafe absolutely thrived off of you coming to him for any kind of help but especially when you forgot things. you often forgot specific chores ward and rose would ask you to do while you babysat wheezie and would hurry up to rafe's room for help.

-> "rafey," he'd hear you whine from the doorway and turn around with a raised brow.

"whatcha want, sweets?" he asked you, tongue poking his cheek as he bit back a smirk. he already knew what you came to him for and god he'd be lying if he said he didn't love it.

"forgot what ward wanted me t'do..." you mumbled with a frown, brows pinched together as you tried to think but to no avail.

"don't you remember?" rafe chuckled lowly as he approached you, large hands coming to hold your waist as his thumb rubbed circles into your hip. "he said you don't have to do anything today other than watchin' wheeze."

— NSFW

it wasn't true, of course. but rafe knew how ward was when you didn't complete chores and he loved to see you crying when you'd get scolded. you'd come running into his arms like always, crying into his chest as he tried to hide his boner that strained against his shorts.

sometimes rafe was gentle with you, thrusting slowly which had you crying out and scratching his biceps. feeling every inch of him with the slow pace as he buried himself deeper inside you. he loved when your brain would practically grow numb, eyes rolling around in your head as you whimpered and whined.

-> "feels good, huh?" he laughed and continued to push his hips forward and back again, slowly pistoning inside your sensitive heat. "so good i've turned you completely dumb for me. stupid little doll, right?"

all you could do was let out a whine as your muscles convulsed, eyes cloudy with tears of pleasure. rafe brought a hand to your neck, squeezing the sides. small little black dots filled your vision as he cut off your oxygen, not enough for you to pass out. a strangled moan escaped your lips as he chuckled and sped up, slapping your face gently.

"come on, baby," he grinned as he let out a few groans of his own. "look at me. awe, y'can't can you? too dumbed out to even see."

WHEWWWW LORD this was fun to write i am sweating ahahaahahahhhskkdf i need him rn

tags: @ladyinbl00d

comment to be added :o

#— river's sticky notes ✩˚｡⋆#fanfic #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks #outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #rafe x you #rafe cameron x you #writers on tumblr #fanfiction #drew starkey

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dragonskulls · 4 months

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Based on the variety among sea animals I decided to make some regional variations of the coast strikers (note that these are variations only, not entirely new quivers or clades). The dragons shown here would be the most “defined” archetype of each variety, showcasing most or all traits characteristic of said kind. They all share certain base features, like rudder shaped tails, gills, harpoon tongues, echolocation, double rows of teeth, and flat tail spines that can be detached and thrown. However, some traits change or are more common in each variety:

Deep water

Make up about 5% of the population, and inhabit the smaller communities in deeper ocean. The main activities here are algae and mollusk farming, as well as resource collection from the sea floor, both of which require a more long term stay –despite the dangers of sea serpents and other such beasts–. Slightly smaller than their cousins, they’re better equipped for the depths rather than for flying: shorter wings, webbed talons, very broad tails, and gills being more oxygen efficient, although their dart spines are usually less in quantity and shorter compared to inland dragons. Extra flippers and more fin tissue between spines is common, as well as larger eyes to take in more light. Their most notable trait, is that of translucence. Most commonly, it’s usually just wings and torsos that are see through, but different dragons showcase different levels of said trait, some being completely translucent in rare cases (of course, trading better camouflage for less armor). Coloration typically goes from dark colors similar to coastal strikers, black, red, or sometimes pale colors (the latter present usually in the populations living in the deepest available settlements). Rarely, some slight bioluminescence is present in transparent sections of the body.

Coastal

The representatives of the Roaring Coast quiver, being around 80% of their numbers. Sleek, tall but well muscled, they inhabit the sea side cliffs on the coast and some settlements in shallower waters. Extremely long and narrow wings are perfect for soaring for hours out at sea, with webbed back talons and a flattened tail making them adept swimmers. Their blade shaped spines are plenty and deadly when thrown, and offer some protection to their necks and backs. Fin tissue in between the spines is few or non existent. An odd ability most present in this variety, is the one of spitting ink. Manifesting itself as dark splotches in the throat, this ink is dense and quickly expanding underwater, and very sticky and thick on land, making it useful at deterring predators or confusing prey. Countershading is the standard regarding coloration, with light colors underneath and darker ones on top, the latter usually ranging from black, gray to washed out shades of blueish or purple hues which shine with more vivid highlights under the sun. Most common patterns are stripes or flecks. A perfect balance between the sea and land.

Inland

The remainder of the coast striker population, they live in the rivers and lakes on the edges of the Roaring Coast territory, further inland but still relatively close to the ocean. Shorter but more stout than coastal strikers, with medium length wings, broad whiskered snouts and narrower tails. Their spines are closer to the average AshWing, being more needle shaped rather than a flat blade. Their colors are similar to those of pebbles and gravel (more earthy tones) and messy patterns of spots, blotches, stripes and rosettes. Fin tissue is more similar to that of fish, making itself present more than in the coast variety but less than those of deep waters, as well as having some slight webbing in all talons. Some notable features are some splashes of brighter colors, and semi retractable barbs in limbs and backs –like those of catfish– which can sometimes inject painful venom. These last two traits are similar to the ones present in swamp lurkers; this could be the result of convergent evolution or cross breeding between clades, given the relative proximity of their territories

On a final note, characteristics mentioned here aren’t exclusive to each variety: there could be a coastal striker with slight translucence and barbs, a deep water striker with whiskers and ink, or an inland striker with full talon webbing and jet black scales. These are increasingly likely if one parent has said traits. Additionally, many times these varieties and traits are not so starkly differentiated as are the ones show here, usually being a mild mix between some

#wof #wings of fire #ashwing #wof fanflight #art #all of the ramblings and info is under the cut teehe #also some differences i didnt really explain but you can see them (like the shape of the horns or spikes or claws etc.)#im having funnnn this is so fun #also clade is the word i think i'll be using when talking about the dragons so i dont have to say quiver each time #like. quiver is the society and clade is the type of dragon lol #if theres typos im exploding. and i forgot to draw the earsssss #ALSO each of these designs are now owned by friends lol (ily guys you know who you are)

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stormhearty · 3 months

Text

Pairings: Former Azriel x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Triggers: nightmares, mentions of blood, death, depression

Summary: It has been several years since your death and your tenth death anniversary is coming up once more. It had, and always will be, a difficult time for the Inner Circle — the regret and remorse evident in the River House. Even though it had been a decade, the evidence of the loss of your light still echoed heavily throughout Pyrthian. Here are how the Inner Circle copes and mourns during the death anniversary.

Note: From this request! Thank you for sending this request and for loving Pushed to the Edge! I do hope this is a bit of extra angst for the ending. It's mostly in Azriel and a bit of Rhysand's POV. We all know that Feyre mourns often the reader's death (since she goes to Day Court during the burial), so I thought it would be good just to mostly focus on Azriel's and a bit of Rhysand's. Also, the meanings of the flowers I placed in the description for Helion’s ceremony for the reader’s death:

Calla - beauty Cattail - peace White Heather - protection Purple Hyacinths - sorrow Ivy - affection White Poppies - Consolation, eternal sleep Tea and dark crimson roses - Mourning and I’ll always remember Sweetpea & Cyclamen - Goodbye, departure Amaryllis - Pride Pink Carnations - I’ll never forget you Iris - Your friendship means so much to me

I hope you all enjoy!

<Pushed to the Edge> Masterlist

His hands shook as they dripped in blood, warm and sticky. Hazel hues followed the trail of blood to a familiar body.

A cry of grief escaped his lips as he crawled over to your body, Truth-Teller piercing through your chest. Your body was unmoving from its prone position. Azriel gently cradled your body in his arms, tears blurring his vision as he looked at your features — one that was etched with so much pain that his heart ached at the sight of it.

“I’m so sorry, my love… I… I’m sorry that I abandoned you, I’m sorry for my infidelity towards you… I’m sorry that I killed you. I’m just… so sorry…” He was sorry for many things. There were too many things he could apologize for but none of them he could whisper to you to bring you back to him. He would have to pay for his transgressions for the rest of his immortal life — the Gods would never give him another chance with her; the Gods would never gift him with another mate as amazing as her.

He was about to press another kiss against your forehead only to watch shadows, his shadows, rise from the ground and slowly start to wrap around your body.

Azriel growled at them, “Leave us alone, leave her with me.. that's all I ask. Don't you fucking dare take her…!”

They didn't listen to him as tendrils of darkness fully wrapped your body before taking your body in whips of shadow. He tried to grab your body before it disappeared but failed.

“No…!!!”

Azriel woke up with a start, chest heaving as he painted, his hand stretched out as if to grab something — your body — from the shadows. His body wracked with a strong shiver, before he slumped against the headboard, a groan escaping his chest as he ran his hand over his face.

Another nightmare.

Every night, for the last decade, he would dream of you — in all different scenarios — ones he would have you in his arms, in bed, sweet and gentle moments; others ( and most of the time ) it was your death, feeling the echo of the mating bond resonate in his chest, watching your body die in his arms, or even watching himself stab you through your heart.

Ever since that fateful day, he has not gotten a decent night’s sleep. Dark circles stained underneath his hazel eyes and those hazel eyes, that used to shine for you, have dullened. Very little things had made him brighten up nowadays — probably the only thing was the birth of his nephew, Nyx. And Nyx has been the only thing that has kept him surviving all these years — along with living with the guilt and pain of your death.

Azriel let out a muffled sob, pressing a hand against his lips as he allowed the nightmare to pass wracks of shivers through his body. Hazel hues shifting from his sweat-stained bed to the large floor-to-ceiling windows, the glow of the full moon beaming down into his room.

He knew he wasn't going to get another wink of sleep tonight. Slipping out of bed, bare feet pressing against the cool wooden floors, he slipped on a simple black tee and sweatpants before stepping out of his room, and down the spiral staircase to the massive garden of the River House.

Azriel usually avoided the gardens, knowing that Elain would be there tending to them.

Their relationship was non-existent at this point. After your death, he cut off all contact and interactions with her, feeling disgusted with himself with even just the sight of her.

For the first couple of months, Elain tried to rebuild her relationship with the Inner Circle; however, after her lies were exposed, it had been a tough road. Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel had ignored her, to the point that Rhysand had ordered Elain to live in the old Townhouse to give comfort to the rest of the family. She would only come to the River House when Feyre would ask her to help tend the gardens. Otherwise, even the Archeron sisters had little contact with the middle sister.

Azriel’s feet led him to a familiar part of the gardens, the only place he would go to that would calm the echo of the empty mating bond in his chest.

After your burial, Feyre sent the image of the statue that Helion had created in your making to the Inner Circle. And in honor of you, Rhysand made one as well — a statue of you, but in Night Court fashion — the opposite of your image in Day Court. Wearing a dark blue dress, one covered with stars, with a moon circlet on your head.

Azriel basked in the statue’s liking to you, seeing the moon’s light radiate behind the statue like a halo made him smile — just a tiny bit. He shifted, sitting down on the bench that was in front of the statue. He leaned forward, pressing his elbows onto his thighs.

“…Hi my love…” he whispered as he looked up at the statue, “Another nightmare… brings me to you.”

A sigh escaped his lips as he felt tears prick the edge of his eyes, and he blinked to fight them away. He has fought so many tears every night, that Azriel felt like his whole body had dried up with how many tears he had shed since your death. He knows he shouldn’t complain, that his grief was evidence that he deserved all the things he had done to you. We all will continue to live with our betrayal. Live and regret, as Rhysand and Cassian told him that day.

Staring back up at the statue, his eyes glanced up at the twinkling stars above Valeris and muttered the singular wish, a wish he had wished for every year, “I hope that at Starfall I will see your light twinkling in the skies above, where you will streak across that beautiful night sky, finding your peace…”

After sitting in front of that statue for several hours, he decided to fly up to the House of Wind to the training balcony and train there. He forgone his black shirt and focused on his training, using every ounce of pain and grieving to train. He stayed up there, time passing quickly until he felt the claws of his brother scrape down his mental shields. Azriel sighed and looked up at the bright blue sky, not even noticing how the day had become midday, the hot sun beating down against his sweaty skin.

“…Azriel…” a light, airy voice called his name.

He let out an animalistic growl before he grabbed his shirt from the chair he had flung it onto, slipping it on his form before spreading his wings to fly. He heard the quickened steps, seeing Elain in his peripherals, the middle Archeron’s sister’s eyes begging at him to look at her.

“…Stay away from me, Elain… I swear to the Gods, if you try to look for me again, I’ll have my High Lord and High Lady dump you on the borders of the human realm to leave you to their discretion…”

Elain frowned at him, stepping into his view, “You cannot put all the blame on me. I have tried to win you and my family’s graces back… I don’t know what I can do to get on your good graces again…”

Azriel glared at the Made-Fae, “… No, I cannot put all the blame on you, I blame mostly myself on falling for you. I never realized why I had after being mated to (Y/N) for nearly fifty years… I could have had my forever with her… And yet, my blind infatuation with you cost us that. I don’t want to do anything with you, as my way to repent… my way to live and regret for the rest of my immortal life without her…”

With one last glare, and without letting the Made-Fae say anything else, Azriel shot off into the mid-day sky, waving through the cool air of Valeris and back to the River House. He landed on the balcony and entered, walking into the large dining room where his family was situated. He noticed the solemn air that coated the room as he sat down in his usual spot, next to Mor and across from Cassian. Hazel eyes wandered the table and noticed the absence of his High Lady.

Rhysand noticed the look from his Spymaster and answered the unasked question, “Feyre went to Day Court this morning…”

That was all it took for realization to hit Azriel — it was your tenth death anniversary this week. A shaky sigh escaped his lips as he leaned back against his chair — ten years without your light. No wonder he felt horrible that day, no wonder why his nightmares seemed to be worse than ever before.

It was as if his subconscious knew.

Azriel knew that after this breakfast, he would be able to crawl back into bed and cry there — he didn’t have to do anything for the rest of that week. He would be able to wallow in his depression in the comfort of his room.

Rhysand, after the first year of your death, had declared that week a period of silence — a mourning period that allowed Valeris and most of Night Court to grieve over your death. To repent and live. It was a week where he didn’t send anyone on missions, and stores throughout Valeris were closed over the week.

The Inner Circle ate in silence, the clattering of silverware was the only thing that echoed in the grand space. No one said a word, though Azriel could feel the shifting gazes towards his way. His fingers gripped the silverware in his hands, feeling the metal bend in his strength. A frown tugged on his features, suddenly losing his appetite. He placed the utensils down, the evidence of his slight anger on the bent pieces of metal, before standing up.

He could see Mor, in his peripheral shift slightly. Azriel huffed slightly, unaware of the looming energy he was radiating until he felt a tap against his mental shields. Hazel eyes looked over to his High Lord who had given him a raised brow.

“Reign in your anger, brother… We are just worried, as usual,” Rhysand had whispered into his head.

They know how hard it has been for him over the past decade. The Inner Circle had been present through every nightmare, every depressive episode, every self-loathing that Azriel had gone through — and is still going through to this day. All of them had tried to help him lessen the burden of regret; however, they knew that the Spymaster would never let anyone shoulder his pain — not when he was the cause of it.

Azriel felt his tears line his reddened eyes, “…I know, and I thank you for that, brother… May I just grieve on my own… May I be excused?”

Hazel and violet eyes stared at each other for a moment before Rhysand nodded his head, “I will tap on your shields again when Feyre is at the ceremony…”

His head nodded before the Spymaster stalked out of the dining room, feeling all eyes on him. He climbed up those spiral staircases again before entering his bedroom with a slam of his door. A shiver wracked through his body, eyes shutting close as he tried to prevent another breakdown. He shuffled his feet, towards the bed and lay there.

He will never be okay — no matter how many decades, how many centuries have passed, he will always feel that emptiness of the bond in his chest. He would never feel you tug on that golden string that connected the two of you, nor he won’t hear your laugh whenever Cassian or Mor would tell you a joke. He won’t feel your fingers trace along his scars or place ointment on his hands whenever they were cramped and strained after a mission.

There were days — which were the worse of them — when he would hallucinate you were still alive. In that very bedroom, he would feel, smell, and see your very figure walking through that room. He could see your light, he could hear your voice… but whenever he would reach out to try to hold you, touch you, you would be gone in a whisp of light.

Azriel hated those days. He would find himself in a heap on the ground, crying. His brothers or even Mor would find him in that state at the end of the day and would plead for him to go to bed and rest. And with their help, he would lay in that large bed, bigger than his wings would span out to, to just stare at the expanses of that ceiling. Rest would never come to him easily anymore, not without a tonic from Madja or if Rhysand would slip into his mind and coax him to sleep.

He would continue to live on as an empty shell — one that would continue life without feeling your light.

Rhysand let out a shaky breath after Azriel had left the dining room, a hand running through his dark locks as he slumped against his chair.

It had been difficult, the last decade was like walking on broken glass around Azriel. The High Lord knew that his brother was suffering, but Rhysand also knew it was the consequences of his actions — of all of their actions against (Y/N). All of them, especially himself and Azriel, would continue to suffer for it.

Rhysand was thankful to the Mother that Feyre had been there throughout the past decade to help shoulder the pain, to shoulder the regret. And he had tried to do the same with Azriel; however, the former Shadowsinger wouldn’t let anyone touch him, wouldn’t let anyone help him through his emotions. And he watched as Azriel broke himself apart because of his pain. The High Lord watched every single day, every year, for the past decade, his brother becoming a shell. Even when he had sent Azriel on missions, the Fae would come back, finishing his assignment quickly and swiftly, though Rhysand could see blood and bruises that contrasted against leather.

Every time, every single time, Azriel had returned from those missions, Rhysand had seen the increased amount of wounds against immortal skin. And when confronted, Azriel had whispered in truth, “It’s the only time I feel pain… To feel the echo of the pain against my skin… Any other time, I can’t feel anything…”

That had broken the High Lord.

He had banned, much to his dismay and Azriel’s anger, the former Spymaster to go on said missions. He had changed Azriel’s title, and became an emissary, along with Mor to the Continent. Azriel hated him — and probably still hated him to this day. But it was the only way to keep his brother from hurting himself, from being hurt, and to keep his family together — as much as possible.

The High Lord stood up from his chair, giving a small smile to his family as he left the dining room and walked his way to his office, allowing the silence to seep into his body. Rhysand busied himself with work, the only thing that would occupy his time and mind during the week of mourning. If he didn’t, he would, like his brother, be stuck in his mind — in his nightmares — of failing you as your High Lord.

He felt a tap of his mental shields, his mate scraping and sending down a wave of love towards his end.

"Are you okay?” Feyre asked him and Rhysand leaned against his chair and allowed his mate to send visions of her time at Day Court.

“I think so… Just, trying to keep myself occupied you know. How is it at Day? How is Helion?”

“He’s probably the same as you and Azriel.. all of us, mourning. But he’s keeping up appearances, he is ensuring this year’s ceremony will be grand. It is her tenth year being gone from this world…”

Rhysand wouldn’t hold it against Helion if this ceremony would be a grand, beautiful one to celebrate your life… to mourn for your death. You had, after all, deserved it. You had risked your life, your light, to protect all of Prythian… you had to be celebrated one way or another.

He watched the vision of the grand Day Court halls, lined with Calla, Cattail, White Heather, Purple Hyacinths, Ivy, White Poppies, and Tea and dark crimson roses — all flowers that echoed the sentiments of all of Prythian. It was a gorgeous sight, one that Rhysand wished to see in person. Tears pricked his eyes as he wiped them away with a finger, as he felt another wave of support from his mate.

"Be safe, darling Feyre… If you need me to take Nyx, do just call me… I can take him from your hands…"

A small laugh echoed, and in his head he could see the image of Nyx standing next to his mother, looking up at the golden statue of you.

"I think he deserves to know who she is, Rhys… He will be fine…"

With one last tug on that bond, Rhysand closed the connection between the two of them.

A book, he had thought, a book would be good to immortalize your story. With ink and paper, he started to write… determined to ensure your story would be known for centuries to come.

A tap against his shields started Azriel from his stupor. He straightened in the armchair he had occupied in his bedroom, eyes darting to the window to see what time of day it was. He hadn’t slept for the past few days, his nightmares plaguing him even while awake. He would mindlessly walk around that room, keeping himself occupied to keep the nightmares at bay. He didn’t sleep, he hadn’t showered — he wallowed in his sadness.

And so when that scrape of darkness against his mind startled him out of his sadness, he lowered it slightly to allow his High Lord to send him the vision that his High Lady was sending him.

Tears pricked at the edge of his eyes as he saw that magnificent statue of you at your grave.

Oh, how he wished and begged for the Mother to allow him, even for a brief moment, to bask in that golden statue — to feel Day Court’s sun mimic the warmth that you had always radiated.

He watched from that armchair the ceremony, hearing Helion speak so fondly of you. Azriel could hear the High Lord’s voice crack and break at every mention of your name. He could see the pain in his features as he talked about how it had been ten years since your death. He watched as Helion looked at that statue with so much fondness — a father, mourning the loss of his child.

The ceremony lasted a couple of hours, allowing people to walk up to the statue to place all types of flowers on top of that gravesite. He watched as the familiar hands of his High lady held up a bouquet — a mixture of Sweetpea, Amaryllis, Pink Carnations, Cyclamen, and Iris — to the statue before placing it down on the grave as well.

He heard her whisper words of fondness, love, and regret before stepping away and back to her spot in the crowd.

The last thing he heard, was from his nephew, who whispered to his mother, “I wish to have known her… She is well loved, even after she has died…”

That had choked not only Azriel up, but he could feel the pain in Feyre’s voice as she looked down at the boy who was merely ten years into his immortal life.

“…I wish you could have known her as well, Nyx… She was a light in everyone’s life. She had made your uncle’s life the best it had been when she was still with us. We wish we could have done so much better to her…”

Azriel watched as Feyre caressed the black locks of his nephew before the vision passed. And all Azriel could do was cry — cry his love, his sorrow, his regret.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fic #acotar angst #azriel x reader #azriel angst #( .inbox request : death anniversary )#( .one shot : pushed to the edge )

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luversgirl · 9 months

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MY OBX REC LIST, part five

( ☾ = angst, ☆ = head-canon, ❀ = fluff, ✧ = smut )

rafe cameron

— five minutes ✧ ( i- )

— need you ☾ ❀

— promises ✧ ( omfg 💀 )

— dating rafe cameron should include ☆ ❀

— silent love ( literally such a amazing series )

— don’t make a sound ✧

— the pogue and the kook ☾ ❀

— best friends little sister ✧

— midsummer’s ❀ ( this is disgusting GIVE IT TO ME NOW )

— frenemies ☾ ✧

— new light blurb: next to you ❀ ( this is so cuteeeee )

— love is a dangerous game ☾ ✧ ( THE ANGST OMFG )

— forbidden ( series )

— good luck charm ❀ ( awwww )

— naughty ✧ ( i want y/n the fawk me wtf )

— hard to love you ☾

— limousine ✧ ( the driver 👁👄👁 )

— and yet…❀

— love at sea ☾ ❀

— can’t sleep ❀

— glory and gore ✧ ( poor jj lmaooooo )

— ambivalence blurb: phases ☾ ❀ ( give me this in life rn )

— unexpected valentine ❀ ( SO MF CUTE )

— night swim ✧

— protecter ☾ ❀ (top tier work, like literally weekly reread)

jj maybank

— i will leave ☾ ( THIS!!! part 2, part 3… etc )

— strawberry ❀ ( living for this )

— scary love ☾ ❀

— mine ❀

— promise ☾ ( oh my fawking god )

— take it slow ✧

— messed up ☾ ❀

— pretty girl ❀ ☾

— for me ❀ ☾ ( someone gimme a jj rn )

— princess ❀

— sweet and salty ✧

— jumped ❀ ☾

— wrestle ✧ ☾ ( oh my lordddddddd )

— nightmares ❀ ☾

— can’t kill a pogue ☾

— underdressed ✧

— i got you ☾

— meet me at our spot ❀ ☾ ( absolutely love this )

— enough for you ☾ ( sobbing )

sarah cameron

— exposed ✧

— lifeguard ☾ ❀ ( why not meeeeeee )

— call rafe ❀

— watermelon sugar ✧ ❀

— welcome home ❀

— kook princess ✧ ( lawd, part two, LAWD )

— the little things ❀

— don’t make me over ❀

pope heyward

— rose water and bubbles ✧

— this ❀ ( idk the name but i LUV IT )

— charm bracelets ❀

— full kook ☾ ❀

— noisy neighbours ❀ ( GIVE ME THIS IN LIFE RN )

— stick shift ❀

— tutor ❀ ☾ ( this is so cuteeeeeee )

barry

— art of seduction ✧

— issues ( ik this is a rafe fic but my blueberry is there so here )

— watch you’re mouth country club ☾ ❀

— softie ❀ ( awwwwww )

— responsibility ❀

john b

— let it snow ❀

— truth or dare ✧

— sticky notes ❀ ( jarah )

— i love you ❀ ( awwww )

— you and me against the world ❀

— always ☾ ❀

— knuckle kiss ❀

— 3 am ❀ ( I CANT ITS SO 😩 )

— pogue bonfire ☾ ❀ ( why not me god? )

— lazy river ❀

— i love you ❀

kiara carrera

— fuck up the friendship ✧ ( it’s kiesarah but it’s so good )

— take care of my girl ❀

— this omfg ✧ ( the title is long for here lol )

— nsfw alphabet ✧

— facades ✧ ( LAWD )

— enough ☾ ❀

— this concept ✧ ( l- l- lord )

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shdo-xplosion · 10 months

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k. bakugou x reader

warnings: medieval au, angst with a somewhat happy ending, childhood friends to lovers (with some hiccups in between), brief mentions of death, morbid jokes, outdoor sex, p in v, fem-bodied reader, bkg calls you his ‘woman’ once

word count: 3k

notes: tbh i do not know where this came from. i had a very vague idea and ran with it, and here we are. hopefully everyone can enjoy it! (´͈ ᵕ `͈ ）

You’ve been traveling for so damn long, legs sore from the never ending trek, heels blistered from the rub of your boots, face chafed from the dry winds.

It could be worse, you suppose. The elements could be harsher. You’re lucky that it’s springtime and you’re not stuck in the dead of summer or winter. Plus, your company is better than most. It’s quiet between the two of you, as it has been for the last couple of years, but there’s no bickering, just a few snide comments borne of exhaustion. Truthfully, both of you are too tired to argue like you used to.

Suddenly, a rough hand shoots out to stop you in your tracks, and you look at Katsuki in alarm.

“Wha-”

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

His crimson eyes are fixed on something on the horizon. It’s nothing more than a glimmer to you, but if you squint…

“Is that…”

“Water.”

A river from the looks of it, beckoning you with open arms.

The two of you take off at a run (or the closest your aching bodies will allow), stumbling over dirt and grass until you’re at the edge of the glimmering stream. It babbles at you happily, splashing over rocks and caressing the earth around it.

“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” you half-joke. It is magnificent, but it still somehow pales in comparison to the man next to you who’s ripping his boots off. Not even this water could quench the craving you have for him.

“Gonna feel even better,” Katsuki mutters, glancing over at you then urging, “what, you shy? Take your clothes off n’ get in.”

Your cheeks heat at the demand but you end up doing just that. You haven’t bathed in god knows how long. The only water you had before was strictly for drinking no matter how much you had wanted to pour some over your head at times.

Like Katsuki, you pull your boots off first then shrug out of your outer layer of leather hide. Riding pants then your tunic. You hesitate at your undergarments, eyes darting to Katsuki’s already nude form as he drops to the ground and dips his legs in the river. His broad shoulders sag in relief, the wide expanse of his back exposed to the sunlight and glistening gold under the heat. You miss touching it, tracing over every pale scar, counting the stray freckles that dot his spine and ribs…

“Don’t be so awkward about it.” His voice snaps you out of your daydream. “Nothin’ I ain’t seen before.”

He’s right. It’s been a long time, but still. You’ve seen every inch of one another in the past, patching up training wounds then brushing lips over them.

“Don’t be so pushy,” you mumble, finally pushing your underwear down and taking off the wrap around your chest. Taking a deep, unencumbered breath, you let a small smile creep onto your face. The wind feels nice for once, cooling your skin that’s been sticky with sweat for what feels like forever.

Katsuki is standing now, up to his hips in the water, and holds a hand out for you. He doesn’t bother averting his eyes, only ever having been a gentleman when it’s suited him and apparently this is not one of those times.

It’s chilly at first, but after submerging your whole body, wetting your hair, the temperature is more than pleasant.

“Gods, that feels good,” you groan, scratching your nails over your dripping arms to scrub away as much grime as you can.

Katsuki dunks his head under, shakes his hair like a dog when he straightens up and pelts you in the face with stray drops. You splash him in return and initiate a small war, both of you now in a rare giddy mood despite your terrible circumstances.

The village was the only place you’d known. You spent your days like most of the other kids, tending to the land and training. It didn’t matter if you were a boy or a girl or whose house you came from. Everyone had to learn to fight, to brandish sword and shield and be ready to raise both in the event of a raid.

In the end that training hadn’t helped. What’s a few blades against a mountain of fire? How can a shield defend a burning corpse?

When all was lost—your mother, father, and the tiny shack you called home, you were ready to give up. Flames licked at your face, and smoke filled your lungs, but a familiar hand tugged you up from your knees and pulled, dragging you as he ran.

Out of the entire village, you and Katsuki are the only survivors.

You’ve thought about the event since your journey to the kingdom began, but in this moment, as the two of you fling water at each other, you don’t think about it at all. All you see is Katsuki’s sharp smile, the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the lightheartedness displayed on his face.

Even when you were kids Katsuki was a little severe. He was loud and abrasive and always scowling. Most of the other children were scared of him, but you never were. Where others saw rabid animal you saw a lonely boy who needed a friend, and you were more than happy to be that friend.

You were just training buddies at first and then your families began sharing meals, trading eggs for milk, splitting chores. Other families in the village had been doing the same for ages, but it had taken meeting Katsuki and his parents for yours to make the same connection.

Swapping meals turned to swapping stories, playing pretend, exploring the tall grasses and woods, and when both of you grew older it all progressed into something much more. Kisses under the moonlight, wildflowers at your window, nervous hands brushing over bare bodies.

Your parents knew and didn’t mind. The assumption was that you and Katsuki would start a family of your own, raise your own strong, passionate children.

Katsuki had other plans, though. A secret he had kept for years.

You’re going to leave me to fight for a king that doesn't care about us? Who keeps us pressed into the dirt with the toe of his boot?

I’m trying to make sure you’re okay! That everyone’ll be taken care of!

Everyone is fine here! We have land we can farm! We have stock to eat and water to drink!

How’s that enough for you?!

Your voices were raised, echoing through the trees that usually hid your late night escapades. Now they hid the end of them.

There was a town nearby. Small but bigger than the village. It had stone streets and places to shop, shelter that would actually keep you dry during storms and warm during winter. If Katsuki became a soldier, he’d be able to move you and his family there.

His family but not yours.

It simply wasn’t an option. You couldn’t leave them behind, and you were appalled that Katsuki would even suggest it. So that was it. That was your last real conversation. Everything else was about milk or eggs or crops. There was nothing left to say. Even when months passed and Katsuki didn’t leave the village you had no words for him, afraid to get reattached only to lose him.

Now, though, in the cleansing waters, it feels like you have everything to say, words that have been stuck in your throat since he pulled you from the cinders of your ruined village.

You watch him from the corner of your eye as he rubs his palms down his chest, nails reddening the muscles of his abdomen then scratching at the trail of hair that travels from his belly button to the water.

“Enjoying the view?” he chuckles, laugh growing when you whip your head away from him. “S’okay. I’m lookin’ too.”

That only makes you turn all the way around, crossing your arms over your breasts as the place between your legs begins to throb. He’s looking at you like that? After everything?

You take a shuddering breath, squeeze your eyes shut tight when you feel him touch your hip.

“Don’t.”

His thick fingers curl around the curved bone.

“Kat…”

“Why?” His voice is low, right behind you so that you feel the question on the nape of your neck.

“Because,” you sigh, “I don’t want you to just because you don’t have any other options. Just because it’s only us.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

His other hand is on you now, both reaching around your waist to lock right above your pelvis.

“Why’d you stop talkin’ to me? Why didn’t we ever make up?”

“Why didn’t you ever leave?” you counter.

He goes rigid, arms tightening around you. “Didn’t want to.” Then, much quieter, “didn’t wanna leave you.”

The words hit you right in the chest, ricocheting in your ribcage. You wiggle to turn in his grasp, eyes wide as they stare into his.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

Katsuki frowns. One of those deep frowns. “You wouldn’t give me time of day! Any time you saw me you’d turn around. Could barely fuckin’ look at me.”

“Can you blame me?” You pull yourself out of his arms. “You wanted me to leave my parents behind. You wanted me to leave everything behind!”

“I wanted you to be taken care of! I wanted to take care of you!

You scoff. “I can take care of myself, Katsuki.”

“I know you can, but so can I. And I should,” he rasps. He looks more emotional than you’ve ever seen him, hair plastered to his forehead, water streaming into his pleading eyes. “I should be your husband by now.”

Your brain shuts down momentarily, unsure if you actually heard what he just said. He still wants to marry you?

“Of course I still wanna marry you!” Must have said that out loud. “I still wanna do everything with you. I’d walk through hell if I got to do it with you.”

Don’t cry. Do not cry. Do not show that you’ve been waiting to hear those words since that last fight.

He wipes a tear from under your eye with a calloused thumb, expression softening.

“Well,” you clear your throat, “I guess you’re in luck since we’re going through hell right now. Burnt village. Dead families…”

“Probably gonna get thrown in the dungeons when we get to the palace,” he adds casually. “King doesn’t take too kindly to outsiders.”

“Will you still think I’m pretty when rats start nibbling on my toes?” It’s dark to joke about. But life has not been kind to you as of late, and even in the midst of all of your fear and grief, you’re finally able to crack a smile (sad as it may be), and your stomach flips the way it used to.

“I’ll still think you’re pretty when they eat your face,” he tells you, caressing your cheek. It’s so sincere that it makes you laugh.

“That’s absurd.”

“What’s absurd is that I haven’t kissed you in a god damn eternity.”

You nearly tackle him into the water, arms around his neck as he catches you with a small ‘oof’, and even though the entire top half of your body is exposed to the air, it still feels like you’re entirely submerged. Drowning in Katsuki without want for oxygen.

His lips are chapped just like yours, yet they’re the softest thing you’ve ever felt. Gentle even with hungry teeth, tender even with his greedy tongue.

The water, once cool, feels boiling, like your bodies are giving off steam. His hands grab at your ass, fingertips digging into the fat of it before he lifts you to set you on the riverbank.

You immediately lock your legs around him, like you’re scared of him suddenly disappearing, but Katsuki attaches himself to you in the form of his mouth on your skin, nipping down your neck, sucking bruises down your shoulder and collarbone.

Frantic fingers find their way between your legs, grazing the inside of your thighs before softly brushing your sensitive folds.

“Missed you so much,” Katsuki grumbles, lowering himself in order to take one of your nipples into his mouth.

You hold his head tightly, pulling him further into you. “I missed you too, Kat. So much.”

The first finger sinks into your heat, making you whimper in satisfaction. Katsuki continues to suck on your hardened bud, swirling his tongue around it to distract you from the stretch of his second finger and the slight burn that comes with it.

“Fuck,” you gasp.

“I know, I know, I got you.” He uses a thumb to massage your clit, your legs trembling as your body begins to open up for him. “Can’t wait to feel your cunt again.”

“I’m ready,” you tell him. “I want you, please…”

“Not yet, sweetheart. I want you dripping’ before I give you my cock.”

You whine, thighs flexing around his waist. You aren’t giving him much room to work with, but you can’t stand the thought of letting him go. His hand is pressed tightly against you, fingers so deep in your pussy as he pumps and curls them. He finds your spot as if he had just touched you yesterday, always so good at reading you, and kisses your throat when you throw your head back.

He abuses the spongy tissue until you’re leaking into the water below, moaning his name and pulling his hair.

“Please, please, need you, Kat.”

He chuckles, an almost condescending, “shh shh, baby. It’s okay.”

He lines himself up and pushes in slowly—so slowly—his thick cock spreading your gummy walls. He feels impossibly large after so long apart, his tip alone stretching your entrance thin so that you scrunch your eyes shut.

“Feel so good already,” Katsuki groans. He pushes his hips forward, and even through the burn your body sucks him in further, begging for more.

“Takin’ me so well, fuck…”

Once he’s bottomed out, Katsuki stays still for several seconds, and your cunt clenches around him automatically, still trying to adjust to his size.

A slow rhythm to start, steady thrusts that drag along your walls and gently slide over your most sensitive spot. Moans stay caught in your throat, mouth open, and you know that as soon as you start making noise you won’t be able to stop.

Katsuki begins moving his hips faster, making the water splash around you on the bank. The chill of it is a stark contrast from the heat of Katsuki’s body and the affectionate burn in your chest.

His strong hands wrap around your head, holding you as he kisses you fiercely. His rhythm stutters, but his lips move against yours perfectly, forming the words, “I love you,” so desperately that it makes you ache. “I love you, I love you. I never stopped.”

“I love you too,” you breathe heavily into him, muscles tightening with every pointed thrust. Your sticky slickness drips out of you, making the slide of his cock effortless. He feels so good, so deep inside you the way he’s supposed to be. Always supposed to be.

“Squeezin’ me so sweet,” he croons, jaw dropping open as he loses himself in sensation. “Always so sweet to me…”

The feeling of his fingers on your clit again is enough to send you over the edge, your nails digging semi-circles into his back as you cry his name loud enough to echo in the emptiness around you.

The rhythmic pulsing of your orgasm milks the cum from Katsuki’s cock, the warmth of it coating your insides, filling you to the brim. He gasps with every thick string he shoots into you until he’s finally dry.

You let him rest his head on your shoulder for some time, giving you both a chance to catch your breath before you pull him out of the water and topple over into the grass.

The sun is setting, the sky painted orange and pink in the afterglow of yet another day. You admire the way it shines over the treetops, the rays of it bathing you in such a comforting way. Everything will be okay, you think. We can survive as long as we’re together.

“Guess I should go find us some food,” Katsuki eventually muses, adding a smirking, “gotta make sure my woman stays fed.”

You roll your eyes and give him a light shove. “Your woman can feed herself, thank you very much.”

“Don’t I know it,” he grins, wiggling his eyebrows. “Never seen you so cock-hungry.”

“Oh my gods, Katsuki!”

“I’m just sayin’!” he laughs. More like cackles.

Your glare holds no weight, but you still suck your teeth at him and mumble, “think I’d prefer the rats over this.”

“Won’t be nearly as filling as—”

You cut him off by rolling on top of him and covering his mouth with yours. “Stop talking.”

He hums, settling his hands on the small of your back. “Only if you keep doin’ this.”

“I will if you keep your promise to marry me.”

“Second I can, I will.”

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou smut #bnha x reader

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