#Nonny Prompt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whatsabriard · 2 years

Text

Anonymous prompt: “On the day Mr Barber first calls, Cora is excited about the possibility of a movie being made at Downton. Robert finds the whole thing ghastly. He compromises by taking her to the movies.”

Robert had managed to extract from Mr Barber a promise that they would be able to see the film before it was released, to assure that the house was presented in the best possible light. It was bad enough having a crew and actors abound, and he could stomach it all for the leaking roof. But the sky would truly have to fall for Robert Crawley, the seventh Earl of Grantham, to allow Downton to be made a mockery in film.

Which is how he came to find himself sitting beside his wife in the flickering darkness of a makeshift theater.

Chairs from all over the house were configured into rows and aisles, as they had for countless concerts before. This time, however, there was to be no band, only a large sheet hung for a screen.

The staff were given the front rows, only fitting for their roles as stars. Robert chose to sit in the back, away from the eyes of the rest of the audience, so he could view the film and promptly escape to the library once the ghastly thing was over. He glanced at Cora when she laughed lightly at some nonsense on the screen. She caught his gaze and tucked her chin, eyeing him from beneath her lashes as she so often did.

Her eyes, those beautiful sapphire eyes, sparkled at him in a way they hadn’t for quite some time. The color was returning to her cheeks, now rosy even in the gray light from the film projector.

She raised her eyebrows and jerked her chin at the screen, instructing him to pay attention to the story before them. He did as bade, a silly lopsided grin on his own face.

He had just settled into the inane plot when he felt Cora slipping her hand into his, twining their fingers together. The chair made a slight rasp as she dragged it closer, settling herself against his solid warmth.

“It’s a bit silly isn’t it,” she whispered, settling her head against his shoulder, their clasped hands now in her lap.

“A bit,” Robert agreed, but it was absently. He wasn’t particularly enthralled by the picture, his attention much more focused on the woman by his side.

Her fingers were slender and delicate in his, but they were warm now where for so long they’d been so very cold.

“Mary sounds lovely though, doesn’t she?” Cora shifted and rubbed her head against him, sighing as she slumped further against him.

“I’m just thankful they won’t be mentioning her in the…the…” He waved his freehand before them.

Cora’s pointed elbow caught him in the ribs and he grunted rather loudly, causing someone in front of them to mutter an outraged “SHHHHH…”

Robert bristled but Cora squeezed his hand between hers and turned her face into his shoulder.

“Behave,” she whispered, untangling their fingers and lifting his arm above her head to settle it around her shoulders.

He hardly began the first syllable of her name, when her hot breath came again, this time in a huff of irritation. “Humor an old woman.”

And so he sat beside her in the silver light, the story of love playing out before them, his arm slipping down to cup her waist. Cora was tucked tightly against him, so tightly he could feel her silent laughter and gasps.

He had to admit, he’d long since lost the thread of the story and found suddenly he didn’t care so much. The house was a simple backdrop and even he had to admit it looked well enough. Instead he focused on Cora, on the warm weight of her in his arms. Her hand rested on his thigh, nails scratching lightly, distracting him terribly. He placed his fingers over hers, stilling her movements and her shoulders shuddered in laughter.

When he turned his face to hers, she was smiling up at him. Her lips were parted in her giggle and he couldn’t help himself. The darkness, her nearness, the returning life and sparkle in her eyes drew him in. In Cora’s kiss he lost time, his attention narrowed on the pressure of her mouth, on the fleeting touch of her tongue that surprised and inflamed him. His palm on her hip urged her closer, attempting to deepen the lazy kiss into something more.

Applause, sharp and staccato, caused them to jump apart just seconds before the lights returned. Robert blinked owlishly, turning to Cora who covered her lips with her fingers. Her eyes…oh how her eyes sparkled.

With a cough, Robert returned his attention to Mr Barber, the spell not quite broken, but responsibility drawing him away. Before standing and moving to the front to mingle with the rest of their home audience Robert leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. “Perhaps I see the benefits of the cinema.”

Cora’s giggle followed him, light and happy and alive.

#cobert #nonny prompt #cora crawley #robert crawley #downton abbey: a new era #cora is and always will be #a wonderfully bad influence #we all know it #ok thanks bye

60 notes · View notes

captainjimothycarter · 2 years

Note

Hi, hope you're doing well :)

How would Prep!Steve react to Punk!Peggy's nipple piercings?

I absolutely love this idea. So much that I wrote a little something.

Piercing

Peggy had always been sexy to him, there was no denying that. He just never knew how much sexier she could get until he saw her with her nipples pierced.

Bingo: Secret Lovers - @agentcarterbingo, Trans Sex -@cabottombingo, Breast Worship @kinky-things-happen, Free Space @mcukinkbingo, Sat In their lap @marvelfluffbingo Characters: Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers Warnings: None beyond this is a smut fest and my terrible writing skills

Steven Grant Rogers was your typical next-door neighbor. He played tennis, gardened, volunteered at the animal shelter, and drove a car too expensive for most people’s taste. He loved his expensive clothes and he wore cologne that was offensive to anyone’s noses

His father doted on him and was so proud when Steve won a tennis scholarship. He had ensured that his boy grew up to run the family’s business. He had set him on a fast track to success and it was going swell until the Carter’s moved in.

The very minute that Peggy and her brother had come over for a welcome to the neighborhood barbeque, Joseph had forbidden his son from ever being ‘with the likes of her’. He didn’t see what was wrong with Peggy, what would make his father have such a strong reaction.

Peggy’s fashion choices, sure, weren't to his father’s taste, and going by her mother’s sour look, it wasn’t hers either. He didn’t care, he thought she looked good with her piercings. With the silver industrial piercing in her ear, the helix and orbital highlighted the look.

She dressed in dark clothes often ripped or grunge look. It was certainly a fashion choice that wasn’t to his taste for himself but Peggy pulled it off exceptionally well. It worked for her and he loved it.

So what if she looked like a punk? He didn’t see the big deal. Regardless of what his father had said, Steve wasn’t going to follow such a ridiculous rule. Peggy was his neighbor and his classmate for several classes.

How could he not talk to her and not fall for her?

Read the rest on AO3

#Steggy #StevePeggy #Trans Steve #Trans Peggy #I don't make the rules my brain just comes up with this #I hope this is what you wanted OP #Steggy Prompt #Nonny Prompt

19 notes · View notes

poguesprincess · 2 months

Note

like, jj is a needy bf. he will literally have sex w you anywhere anytime, including down on the sand, right up by the water. like your complaining about the cold water that reaches ur toes everytime a wave crashes but its ok cuz hes balls deep in u. also he will laugh at u for being scared of getting sand in ur cooch.

-🐚

*.⊹˚𝜗୧ ‧₊˚

“people are going to see us.”

“is this not a free country or something?” jj’s got his hand down your shorts, rubbing small circles onto your clit. you’re by the water, and literally anybody could come by and see him defiling you. his other hand is sneaking its way up to your bikini, fingers peeking behind the material to give your tit a squeeze, earning himself a smack on the wrist, "have you always been so stupid?"

"have you always been so mean?" he retorts, but he's all smiles. he can't help himself. not when he sees the care start to slowly drain from your face, and your legs twitch slightly as you try widen them without him noticing. you were so obvious. the water draws nearer to you, and you bite back a shriek.

"jay, it's cold! can't we go inside?" you try to reason with him, but his lips latch onto your neck and you know he's too far gone.

"want you. now, princess."

to ease your mind, he's got a towel (mostly) covering you, but it doesn't take long before he's inching his way inside of you, knees pressed into the sand as the evening sun beats down on him. he's deliciously tanned and gorgeous, and it makes you forget why you'd complain about anything in the first place. he presses a soft kiss to your temple, hips rocking slowly into you as he tries to fuck away your whines of protest.

"careful— ah— careful! you're going to get sand up there!" you cry, clawing at his back in a way that has him go slightly deaf to your voice.

"up— up where?" he's laughing again, and you roll your eyes as you finally decide to push him off you, mumbling angrily. you were never doing this again.

"woah, hey— hey, come back!" he tries to seem sympathetic, but his giggles are a dead giveaway that he's not taking any of this seriously, not even bothering to stop you from wrapping the towel from around your body and storming off to the house. you're cute when you're annoyed, he thinks.

#꒰ ۫ ੭ requests! ୨ৎ ꒱#εïз jj maybank prompt !#🐚 nonnie #jj maybank prompt #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank

1K notes · View notes

hapinesbuterfiy · 2 months

Note

i dunno if uve done this(js ignore it if u have T T) casually dominant rafe habits w sweet n kook reader!!! id like to know if his hands are js magnets attracted to her waist whenever shes near :)) that is alll, ilysm pretty!!<33

. ౨👔ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ 💌

rafe is so naturally dominant. he doesn't realize it, but he's always manhandling or guiding you in some way shape, or form. it's simply instinctive.

he's very observant. he knows all the products you use and restocks them when you finish them with you asking. sometimes he'll even look up the ingredients in them to make sure your not using anything harmful. "can you stop using that glow recipe shit? shit's awful for your skin i looked it up" as he's adding the entire dermalogica line into his sephora cart and checking out, making sure it's on your account so you don't nag him about not getting the points.

his hands are like magnets, forces that are constantly glued to your body. his calloused palms resting on your hips as you walk through parties, guiding you and making sure that your not walking into people. his hands roam through your entire body, cupping your tits, grabbing your ass, pressed against your neck no matter where you are. he has no shame, everyone knows your his girl.

he's very particular about what you wear, even going as far to set out clothes for you before you go out because he knows how long you take to find an outfit. he likes pastel colors but hates neons, especially green. he loves mini dresses especially the ones that push up your tits and flow around your ass, but nothing too revealing.

he's a natural protector. always scoping out the people around you, death starring the creepy old men who attempt to check you out, as you mindlessly cling to his bicep. he knows how clueless you can be, and makes it his sole purpose to protect you.

#𓂃 ꔫ 💌 hapinesbuterfiy #♡ rosie writes ! ୨🎀୧ #nonnie babies !!#rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x you

2K notes · View notes

diqldrunks · 20 days

Note

I think rafes the kind of guy who would act so not interested in your little shows and the dramas you watch, but then would stand behind the couch watching with you and you would be like "I thought you said you didn't like watching these types of shows" and he would just try to shrug it off like oh I was just passing by 💀

✧*̥˚ nav | inbox | main masterlist *̥˚✧

rafe cameron pretending he's not interested in your tv shows...

a/n: hon you SEE THE SAME VISION i giggled when i saw this bc i geuinely imagine this all the time. this is kind of unhinged i am so sorry

cw/tw: none! rafe acting like a middle aged dad but we love to see it honestly we do. reader is watching kuwtk and real housewives -> i don't make the rules

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

"sweets, all these shows are rotting your brain"

"stop being so mean rafey, they're fun"

"they're ridiculous"

"i know rafey — but they're supposed to be. you're not supposed to take them seriously

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

"rafes, you wanna sit over here with me?"

"no, no, i'm good sweets"

"so, you're just gonna stand over there and watch tv?"

"oh no, i'm not watching this rubbish"

"you've been there for ten minutes rafe"

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

"so, what i don't get is why are kim and kourtney are fighting?"

"well, kim partnered up with dolce and gabbana after kourt's wedding, where d&g collaborated with her. kourt's accusing kim of using her wedding as a business opportunity and using d&g archive looks that were too similar to what kourt wore for her wedding, but kim's defence is that she's told d&g to stay away from looks that were similar to kourt's wedding. they've been fighting over this for like five episodes."

"damn"

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

rafe taglist (lmk if you want to be added!); @izabellaemerson @spiderflunk @kitty-m30w @vincapandora @uraesthete @wickedtactics @harmoneeee24 @starkeybae @fairydvstss @alexiskirkland @devils-blackrose @makaylalovessmut @winterrrnight @clearbolts @slayystuff @neilove @littlemissborntolose @emyslittlebubble @ldrsog @stargrltara @isabelllauer @zizuras @sadgirlelenora @djosfuture @leaskisses444 @rafesgiirl @fclklqre @forstarkey

409 notes · View notes

suugarbabe · 9 months

Note

Angst with a fluffy smutty ending (;)), Theodore nott, prompt 41 and 4

Pleaaaaaase 😩

(4) "That noise....keep making it."

(41) "Look me in the eyes this time and say you don't feel anything for me."

18+ MDNI! THIS IS YOUR WARNING; be aware of the content you consume

You grunted as you were shoved into the closet after Theo, Mattheo giggling as he closed and locked the door behind you both. You huffed, leaning against the closest wall and crossing your arms. With a flick of his wrist Theo created a low glow in the closet. "I can't believe this," you sighed in annoyance. "What? You're saying this isn't a fantasy of yours?" You could hear the smirk as he spoke. Truth was, you did have a dream very similar to this last week, but you'd be damned if you admitted that to him. You picked at your cuticles, avoiding eye contact as you answered him, "Actually, my fantasies usually involve Mattheo." You stole a glance quick enough to see Theo's jaw tense and relax. "Tsk, tsk, Y/n. I know you're just trying to rile me up now." Theo got bold then, grabbing your face between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him in the eyes. He had eyes like sapphires: big beautiful gems that were scanning your face, waiting to respond to any movement or word you spoke. "Look me in the eyes this time and say you don't feel anything for me." You wracked your brain for a witty response, but the way he looked at you, pupils blown, your mind was basically mush. Theo's eyes flicked down to your lips as he licked his own. In a rare moment of bravery, you grabbed hold of his tie and yanked him toward you, his lips smashing against yours in a fever. He moved his lips to your jaw, down your neck, sucking the skin and nibbling with his teeth. He slotted a knee between your thighs, applying pressure to what you were sure were already soaked panties. The pressure of his thigh in combination with his lips working your neck had your head spinning. One of his hands traveled down to your hip, rocking you just slightly against his thigh. The smallest motion caused you to dig your fingers to tug on the hairs they were tangled in at the back of his neck, a gasping whine leaving your lips. Theo groaned against your skin, "That noise...keep making it." -"Then keep doing what your doing," you breathed out. You didn't have to tell him again, grabbing your hips to guide you, applying pressure with his thigh as you shifted your hips back and forth, grinding down on his leg. The thin material of your panties allowing you to feel the rough material of his trousers rubbing just right against your swollen clit. "Fuck, y/n, I think I can feel you through my pants, is this all f'me?" his lips ghosting against the shell of your ear as you nodded, another whimper the best response you could give him. "You gonna leave a big wet spot on m'thigh aren't ya, darling? Gonna let everyone know how well I got you off in just seven minutes?" He pushed your bucking hips down and his leg up, creating pressure on your cunt that had you fluttering around nothing. "I can feel you, darling. Such a little slut, squeezing around nothing," his words were nearly pushing you over the edge, that familiar feeling building in your lower abdomen, "Please, Theo...wanna come on your leg." Your hips messily fucking yourself on his thigh, your clit now pulsing against the soaked spot on his trousers. Theo's licking and sucking across your collarbones, and up your neck, he's everywhere all at once, "C'mon darling, let it all fucking go f'me, c'mon pretty girl." He pushed his thigh up against you, the pressure in your core finally peaking and now you're a whimpering mess, "Fuck, Theo, ohmygo-" riding out your high as he swallows the rest of your moans, allowing you to continue to slowly grind against him as you come down from your fucked out state. Just as he pulls away, the closet door swings open, Mattheo smirking at the entrance, "Have fun?" He looks you both over, jaw dropping at the large dark spot on Theo's right thigh. Your cheeks are instantly aflame, but Theo is unfazed, telling the group you two were 'going to finish what you started' as he dragged you to his dorm.

#nonny bo bonny #blurb prompts #theo nott #theo nott smut #slytherin boys

1K notes · View notes

flowercrowngods · 6 months

Note

for prompt tag!

28. i'm just getting comfy (would love if this was established relationship/domestic fluff.. perhaps one of them is sick in this... idk)

but also take your time 🫡🫂

in which steve is sick but that won't stop soft boys hours

When Eddie hears the sound of fuzzy sock-clad feet dragging over the hardwood floor, accompanied by a sniffle or two, he drops the book he's reading onto his chest, exasperated by his restless boyfriend who refuses to stay in bed after Eddie tucked him in — again! Ready to give him A Look and tell him to get back to bed, because whatever it is he needs, Eddie can and will get it for him, Just go back to bed, Stevie.

But whatever words were on the tip of his tongue even just a second ago have disappeared at seeing Steve – the same way that they always used to when they've only been dating for a few months. Instead of giving him anything remotely like A Look, Eddie grins, and instead of exasperated, all he feels is immeasurably fond. Endeared. Fucking enamoured.

Because Steve, in all his pale, sniffly-nosed glory, is standing in the doorway to the living room, blinking against the sunlight streaming in through the windows, painting everything golden and bringing colour back to him, too. But it's not the way the light catches on his skin that makes Eddie fall in love all over again in what Robin would describe the most pathetic way possible, no.

The thing that makes Eddie want to propose on the spot, in sickness and in health, is the fact that Steve is wearing Eddie's woollen hat. The one Joyce knitted for him with thick, soft, dark brown wool a few Christmases ago, with two distinctive bat ears sticking up.

God, where did Steve even unbury that?

And what business does he have looking so absolutely fucking adorable wearing it? His glasses are askew, the hair sticking out from beneath the hat is tousled and greasy, and the bags under his eyes are stark against his sickly pale skin that makes his nose shine red.

Eddie is about to die with how much he loves him. It’s like a scream lodged in his throat that he cannot let out, an urge that grows evermore to let the whole world know, to not rest until the last person knew about his endless, endless, endless love for this angel of a man.

In sickness and in health. It is there, residing in the back of his head, and he almost says it out loud — but Stevie would kill him if Eddie proposed to him because of a stupid woollen hat with bat ears (Sorry, Robbie).

“Baby,” he breathes instead, miraculously keeping a hold of his heart in this wave of affection that overcame him so suddenly. “You good? Everything okay?”

“Mhmm,” Steve hums, though it’s more of a growl with how rough his voice is. He wipes at his face, almost nudging his glasses off his nose, and Eddie can’t keep in the chuckle that bubbles out of him.

He’s about to get up off the couch and wrap the angel with bat ears in his arms, just because he can, but then Steve is already approaching him, the blanket thrown around his shoulders dragging on the floor just as much as his feet. There is something so young about Steve when he’s sick, something so vulnerable and raw that makes Eddie want to latch onto him and never let go. Protect him from the evil germs and the headaches they bring. It’s dumb. Stupid, really.

Eddie doesn’t even try to fight it as he sits up and holds out his arms for Steve to fall into. He brushes kiss after kiss to his overheated skin as Steve cuddles into him, burying his face in Eddie’s neck and his hands underneath his shirt.

They hum in unison, finding a sound for serenity.

“That’s my hat,” Eddie says after a while, breathing in his sick angel and feeling him melt in his arms.

“Our hat,” Steve mumbles into his skin. "My turn to be Batman."

Eddie laughs, wrapping his arms tighter around him, giving in to the urge to hold, the urge to never let go. “You’re ridiculous, d’you know that?”

“I did know that,” Steve says, and he somehow manages so sound proud of that.

“Good, just making sure,” Eddie remarks, hiding his own grin in Steve’s cheek, nosing along his temple and the edge of the hat. After a moment of silence that they spend just holding onto each other, he murmurs, “You need anything?”

Steve shakes his head, winding his arms tighter around Eddie’s shoulders and leans into him; it takes him a moment to catch up with Steve, but eventually he lets himself fall backwards so they’re lying flat on the couch.

“What are you doing, hm?” he asks, reaching for the blanket that has pooled around Steve’s legs and pulls it up again, wrapping it around his shoulders properly again.

“I’m just getting comfy,” Steve rumbles, slowly and sluggishly wiggling and twisting on top of him until he stills with a satisfied hum that sounds a lot like a smile.

“Good?”

Another hum, affirmative this time, as Steve buries his cold fingers underneath Eddie’s body. “You’re warm.”

“And you have a fever.”

“Hmm. Still.”

It makes him grin again, makes him want to burst and scream and cry and laugh endlessly.

“Ridiculous,” he says again, no louder than a whisper, and Steve turns his head to press a kiss to the centre of Eddie’s chest. It’s as much of a No, you as Eddie’s going to get, and he cherishes it with everything he has.

“I like that,” Steve says, half asleep by the sound of it.

Eddie reaches for Steve's glasses and places them on the coffee table, and tucks the hat back over his ears. When no elaboration follows, asks, “You like what, angel?”

“That. Your voice. Feels nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.”

“Want me to read to you? I think you might like this book, actually.”

Another hum, another kiss — to his heart this time. “I like everything about you.”

“That’s what I wanna hear,” Eddie laughs, reaching for the battered copy of Momo that’s been one of his favourites since Wayne brought it home on a rainy night in ’85 and Eddie stayed up all night devouring it.

“At the edge of the city,” he starts reading the blurb, to give Steve an idea what this is about and let him decide if he wants to listen in or just feel the rumbling of Eddie’s voice in his chest, “in the ruins of an old amphitheatre, there lives a little homeless girl called Momo. Momo has a special talent which she uses to help all her friends who come to visit her. Then one day the sinister men in grey arrive and silently take over the city. Only Momo has the power to resist them, and with the help of Professor Hora and his strange tortoise, Cassiopeia, she travels beyond the boundaries of time to uncover their dark secrets.”

Steve doesn’t react, but Eddie can feel that he’s not quite asleep yet, so he opens the book and starts reading from the beginning that he almost knows by heart. Somewhere on page seven, Steve takes to playing with Eddie’s hair, carding slow fingers through the strands in the gentlest way that is almost enough to distract him. Switching the book from one hand to another as his arms get heavy from the position he’s holding the book, he always has one hand drawing idle patterns underneath the blanket, between Steve’s shoulder blades.

It’s a slow afternoon as the sun sets on them, painting them in golden hues of orange and rose. Once he’s sure Steve is asleep and the living room too dark to keep reading, Eddie puts down the book and sneaks his arms under the blanket, wrapping them loosely around Steve’s shoulders to follow him into dreamland.

hope this lives up to what you had in mind! 🫶

#steddie #steddie fic #sickfic #sick steve harrington #soft eddie munson #i feel like it's so rare for a prompt to vibe with me kjshd but this one was wonderful thank you nonnie! 🤍#does this even qualify as sick fic if all they are is smitten and ridiculous?#pls i need steve in a woollen hat with bat ears okay #dio words

549 notes · View notes

petit-etoile · 5 months

Note

hi! :) i love your writing!! Could i request an Astarion fic based on the Mahmoud Darwish Quote “they asked ‘do you love her to death’ / i said ‘speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life.’”?

it's our last chance ( we'll get it right )

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 2,902 content warnings: canonical discussions of death, spoilers for astarion's act iii romance, spiritual interlude to this fic, references to cann.ibalism as a metaphor for love, an exploration of how s.ex can be healing, the faintest hints of a mortal!tav but that's up to the reader, what if s.ex cures vampirism ? other tags: canon compliant, character study, introspection, codependency, religious imagery & symbolism, p.orn with plot archiveofourown: here.

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, @ghosts-and-ink, @b4um3pfl4um3, @gunslingerorchid, @hypopxia, @m0ssytrees, @erysione, @odette-attackattack, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ashrio20, @wills-mental-illness, @queenofcarrotflowers-s, @kirahlene be added to the taglist here

summary: ‘Gale asked me tonight if I loved you,’ Astarion tells you. ‘He asked if I loved you purely. I’ve never loved anything purely in my life, but I knew what he meant. He asked, ‘Will you love them to death?’ That’s why I brought you here tonight.’

This is a night reminiscent of the day he died.

The sun has faded out over the horizon. The streets are bloodied once more, and hundreds of shadows have transformed into the shape of a bat.

Astarion’s grave is very old and covered with moss. You watch as he kneels in front of it and brushes his fingers across his name in reverence. You join him and cross your fingers together in prayer. You don’t know what you’re praying for but you mumble the words under your breath. It isn’t until you start digging that you begin to understand why you’re really here. You dig and dig and find relics of a life you never knew — dead flowers and childhood toys, tears that you cry. A mother and father’s love.

Astarion looks so much younger now that Cazador no longer hangs over his very being. The tension around his eyes has lessened, and even though he’s feeling something you can’t imagine, he wears the smallest smile as you uncover the gifts left behind by his family. Proof that Astarion lived, proof that Astarion existed. You dig until your fingers reach nothing and then you turn to him. He means to plant a seed and watch it grow.

He hands you seeds from a flower you can’t remember the name of. You pour them into the depths of this grave and fill it back up with dirt. You drop handfuls and wait for it to rain. You turn your chin up to the sky and wait for the storm clouds to release rapture.

‘I love you,’ Astarion says suddenly.

He looks at you like a man learning to see for the first time. The softness of his features only intensifies the longer he looks at you. Astarion is always made up of hard angles and harsh lines but tonight, he looks upon you with an earnestness you haven’t seen for him in quite some time. You’re caught off-guard when he caresses your cheek.

If Baldur’s Gate were to weather a storm tonight, Astarion would be the warmth from the cold of the rainstorm. You close your eyes at his touch and lean your cheek into it, nuzzling his palm. Astarion decides that it isn’t enough. He’s selfish, manipulative, roguish and cruel, but when he leans forward and kisses you with his plump mouth, you forget about all those things. It’s healing. You open your lips for him.

‘I love this,’ he murmurs, snaking a hand down to the small of your back. ‘And I want it all.’

The storm breaks overhead, but Astarion covers your body with his and you forget that you hate the sound of thunder. He kisses the very soul of you, and you can’t help but lean into his touch. There’s something about the way he nips at your skin that infinitely thrills you. How could a man so determined to be dangerous, so keen on becoming the most powerful man in the world melt at the sound of your voice? Had Astarion always been this weak for you, or was this a new transgression in his never ending quest to crush his desires?

Astarion kisses you.

He is the only thing that quenches your thirst.

He knows that.

When you first fell from the illithid ship, you had felt a hunger unlike any other swell up in your gut. It was freedom you had never experienced, and somehow, you came out on top. What happened after that was only like the romances you had read about. When a beast hunter falls in love with their bounty, when a mortal loves their immortal despite the difference, when an angry vampire becomes softer and softer the more he learns about kinder touch. You’re a romantic, after all.

You think that you should talk about it. You want to ask Astarion if he’s sure. But of course he’s sure, he’s never been surer of anything. Asking him now would be a disservice, you think. He’s worked so hard to come this far. You don’t ask. You kiss Astarion back like you’ve never kissed anyone before.

His mouth is yearning. Astarion pines for you like a prince pines for a sweetheart — and his mouth and his tongue and his teeth are so overwhelming that you can’t help but cling to his shoulders, using him as a lifeline.

He turns his cheek against yours and sighs wistfully against your skin. Slowly, carefully, Astarion presses his fingers between your legs curiously. He does it just to hear you gasp. You meet his eyes, and your cheeks burn so hotly you think you might be dizzy. Astarion consumes your soul. He presses you down in the flowers you planted above his grave. Clover, daisies, and asters grow around, twirling in your hair as Astarion collapses into your arms. You hold him as he shakes.

‘I was dead before I met you,’ Astarion whispers in the crook of your neck. ‘I was a ghost.’

‘You’re alive now,’ you promise. He cradles your soul in his hands. ‘You’re alive now and you’re the sun, and I love you.’

Maybe it’s not that you aren’t sure Astarion is ready. You’re nervous about the setting. It’s not that it’s inappropriate or dire, but that anyone could see at any time and you were a selfish creature. For so long, it has always been you and Astarion and everyone else. Now, Astarion presses into the space between your hips and mouths at your chest. He tastes your skin and your nipples, and you shiver at the touch. He eats your heart. You’re grateful.

‘I’m not convinced,’ Astarion says roughly. ‘Should I die, where will I go?’

‘You will go where I go,’ you say as he sinks into your flesh. ‘You are half my soul. I’ll beg the gods. We can never be one without the other.’

‘And if they deny you?’

‘I’ve already killed gods,’ you say. ‘What are a few more if they deny me my love?’

Astarion lets out a satisfied hum, content with the fruit you have given him. He ripens you with his fingers and you turn your head. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and allow him to caress your sides, closing your eyes as he touches the more ticklish parts of your body. He nibbles at your collarbones

You say, ‘This isn’t your grave.’

Astarion’s mouth ghosts over your skin, and finally, he sinks his cock into you until you’re gasping for air. It pushes and fills and causes lights to dance in the corner of your eyes. You touch the little hairs at the nape of his neck to distract yourself.

‘You’re right,’ Astarion says softly.

‘A place of rebirth.’

‘A place of happiness, my love,’ he says. ‘Now when I see it — ’

‘More,’ you whisper.

You feel a rush of tenderness sweeping through your veins. You are drawn to it like a moth to light, and you chase Astarion as he flees from you, sliding your hips back against his so that he’s never gone for too long. You waited patiently for Astarion. Every touch, every kiss is a feeling so rare that you can’t help but savor it. You admire the vulnerability he shows you, and when he leans back to lift your hips higher for a better angle, you moan softly and cry.

Astarion’s fingers burn holes into your skin. He leaves a wildfire against your skin. It leaves you wanting more. But you’re always going to want more, aren’t you? Even a lifetime of Astarion is not enough. You seek the warmth in his gaze.

You aren’t sure how long you’ll last. The time between your trysts and the sheer passion causes you to be needy. He likes it that way too. Likes the way that you’ll always seek him out first. The first in your heart. The first in your soul. You wish you could pour yours out of your body to give it to him. He’s half your soul regardless of what he might say. You never understood the concept of an immortal soul until now. You pull Astarion back to you and kiss him, teeth to teeth.

But it’s not enough.

You don’t think it will ever be enough. You dig your nails into his spine and hold onto him. You cry weakly. It feels too good and like it’s too much at the same time. You part your legs wider and drag him further, hypnotized by the feel of his thighs beneath yours. Astarion shows an enthusiasm you haven’t seen in a while, and you’re reminded of how much you’ve craved him. The knife at your throat, the scowl on his face, the night at the party… Astarion is all-consuming. You never thought it would happen.

At first, you thought Astarion was primed to ignore you forever. You were kind and good and sweet, and now you knew that was everything Astarion was looking for. He tastes your kindness and goodness and sweetness and becomes drunk on the taste of your shared fate.

Astarion bites you on the shoulder but for once, it isn’t to draw blood and feed upon what makes you who you are. It’s a lover’s bite. An inquisitive nibble. That part of sharing is what this is about. He meant it when he said you were more than blood, more than a fling. You always thought about it…

Astarion proving his love to you now was welcomed. You summon a new life for him here during this pale evening. A life where he will not know hurt. A life where he will not be betrayed by those he trusted. Astarion was in your hands now, a crow on your wrist. He sings you a pretty song against your neck. He’s vocal now, content with moaning and mewling as he takes his pleasure in the warmth of your body. You wish you could bottle up his pretty song and take it with you forever.

You press your mouth to the sharp curve of Astarion’s ear, sneaking a kiss against the pointy tip. ‘Come closer to me, my love,’ you whisper. ‘No one must know.’

‘Everyone must know,’ Astarion disagrees softly.

‘Even the birds?’ you ask. ‘Even the trees?’

Astarion smiles. You can feel it. ‘The entire world must.’

‘Are we in love?’ you ask him softly, looking upon him fondly.

‘We are,’ he says, laughing.

You are in love like you have never been in love before. Astarion is a romantic and he cherishes this new world with you. He’s intoxicated by the freedom of your scent. And it’s not as though it’s any different for you. You wrap your legs tightly around his hips and keep him there, and when his arms shake and tremble, you accept his weight.

You kiss his throat and he raises his chin so you can kiss it more. You’ll pretend that it doesn’t entice you. You want to sink your teeth in like he has, to share with him that quiet exaltation. Astarion gives it to you more and more, and finally, you can no longer tame that part of you set to rupture. Your pleasure causes your vision to burn almost.

There is a world where you and Astarion have never met. A world where the mindflayers never devised a plan and you were still searching for enlightenment. The thought of it scares you so you cling to him and you climb into his sternum, holding onto his skin while the world is remade in your image. A world without Astarion is not a world worth living. You know that to be true. That’s why you’re here now.

Astarion follows suit in quick, frantic strokes. He loses himself in the quake of your core and digs his fingers into the dirt next to your head for stability. You watch as pleasure overtakes him and he wavers, choking on a ragged moan. You press unfocused kisses against his shoulders and sink beneath the earth.

It’s a good thing Astarion finds his confidence in the taste of your bones. He eats from you an essence that would make him strong. When he sits up, eyes soft around the edges and mouth swollen from your love, you can see the change in him. Have his shoulders always been that wide? Has his back always been that straight? Has the majesticness of his attitude always been so grandiose?

Astarion holds out his fingers and you kiss the tips of them. You give him a blessing and watch as his skin begins to glow. Cazador had unmade a proud man. You have rehabilitated a broken man. But Astarion is not defined by his brokenness, not authenticated by his terrors and trauma, but by the whims he has shown you tonight.

When Astarion pulls you from the bed you made in the grass, you can see a dim light filtering through the overhead tree. A familiar sight, like the first time. You pull his jacket over your head to avoid any more mess and become acutely aware that Astarion is watching you breathe. He listens with that frightening vampiric hearing as your lungs exhale. He smiles as your heartbeat settles.

You distract yourself as he enjoys his orgasm by making him a crown of flowers. You twist them expertly like you once did in your youth, and when Astarion turns his head, you give him a kingdom. The fresh green of the leaves accentuates the paleness of his hair.

You know what you’ve done even if the world does not. It was an objectively stupid thing to do, Astarion said so himself. Life is a challenge, and you were not a quitter. If anything, you knew that you deserved it. A ghost called your name and you answered, unfrightened by the specter’s cold touch. Slowly, you replaced that frigid air with your own heat until there was nothing but fog in the aftermath.

‘Sometimes,’ Astarion begins when he’s ready, ‘I still have these cruel thoughts. This fear still consumes me but… It’s so unlike before I hardly recognize it.’

‘You’re not his first son anymore,’ you say.

Astarion smiles and slides the crown from his head. He twirls it between his fingers. ‘Not — Not that fear, no. Something else.’

‘What else could frighten you?’

‘Everything,’ Astarion confesses. ‘I listen to your heart when you sleep for any change. I check your face every day for any extra wrinkles.’

You laugh. ‘I’m still young,’ you insist. ‘We have time, Astarion. I am with you every moonrise.’

‘The worst thing about loving you is that I will never stop,’ Astarion says, staring at his headstone. ‘I don’t want you to die in a world where I could still love you.’

You think you’re going to be sick. You don’t mean to cry, but you do. You burrow your face in your hands and weep so hard Astarion wraps his jacket around you and kisses your head, shushing you until you’ve let it all out. It’s…not how you wanted to end the evening.

‘You didn’t let me finish, my love,’ he murmurs against your forehead.

‘Then go on,’ you say miserably.

‘I will never stop loving you,’ Astarion says again. ‘For a thousand more years and one.’

You twist the knuckle on your middle finger anxiously. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know what to feel.

‘Gale asked me tonight if I loved you,’ he tells you. ‘He asked if I loved you purely. I’ve never loved anything purely in my life, but I knew what he meant. He asked, ‘Will you love them to death?’ That’s why I brought you here tonight.’

You look at him suspiciously, and his ardor steals your breath away. His jacket slips from your shoulders. You watch as he fixes the carvings in his headstone and adds to them in a sprawling language you’re almost too exhausted to read. Eventually, you find your voice again. You lean your cheek against his shoulder, and if your eyelashes are wet against his skin, he says nothing about it.

‘Tonight,’ Astarion says, ‘and on top of my grave, you have brought me back to life. That is a debt that cannot be repaid.’

You turn to him and this time it is your turn. You take Astarion’s jaw in your hands and lift his mouth to yours, kissing him so sweetly you’re almost certain that he swoons from the touch. It’s like kissing him for the first time, a kiss that sweeps over and over, until the ocean of night sweeps over you and you melt into his sinew.

‘You love me?’ you ask him just to hear him say it again.

‘I love you,’ Astarion says.

Love is not always in the eyes of the goddess. Love is buried somewhere most will never find it. It is healing, it is sweeping, it is gratifying. It is watching your lover’s hair turn grey strand by strand every morning. It is chasing the sun before it falls beneath the stars every evening.

You think you get it now.

Astarion rests his cheek against your palm, and for the first night since he was turned into a vampire, he slumbers in your touch. He dreams of a future where you are both mortal and laughing.

‘I love you too,’ you confess, and Astarion smiles in his sleep.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x oc #from ，carcosa .#anonymous #my fic #AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #THIS PROMPT LIVED IN MY MIND RENT FREE SINCE I GOT IT #& after a long time trying to decide how to redeem it #i finally figured it out !!!#i hope u enjoy it nonny

214 notes · View notes

valeriianz · 8 months

Note

Hob and Dream sharing a bath?

Can be smut or fluff your choice

i made it smutty ;) CW: bubble baths and handjobs, human au

----------------

“You’ve been working yourself ragged. You need to relax,” Hob insisted, broad hands on Morpheus’ slim shoulders, directing him towards the bathroom.

“And you think a bath is the answer?” Morpheus grumbled but allowed himself to be gently coaxed into their bathroom, currently dark save for the few candles that flickered on the edge of the bathtub.

Morpheus swallowed, taking in the scene before him. The candles gave their usually drab, off-white apartment bathroom a soft yellow glow. The room was warm and humid, sage and lavender permeating the air and immediately filling Morpheus with a sense of calm.

There were also bubbles in the water.

It was very… sweet. Hob was always too sweet with Morpheus.

“You really didn’t have to do all this,” Morpheus mumbled as he felt Hob’s lips on the back of his neck. “I’m capable of taking a bath without all these… accouterments.”

Hob chuckled into Dream’s hair, making him shudder pleasantly.

“I just wanted to do something nice for you.” Hob gave the back of Morpheus’ head one more kiss before gently turning him around. “And I think you’ll like it. Nothing like a hot epsom salt bath to relieve tension and stress.”

Morpheus stared at Hob with wonder clear in his gaze at how he got so lucky, what he did to deserve such kindness.

“C’mon, off with these…” Hob smiled as he tugged at the ends of Morpheus’ oversized shirt. Morpheus raised his arms and allowed Hob to tug it off him.

He stepped back to remove his jeans and underwear himself, noticing, even in the limited light, how Hob blatantly watched.

Morpheus grinned as he stepped out of his remaining garments and tugged on Hob’s belt loops, causing the other man to lean forward and laugh in surprise.

“Would you join me?” Morpheus asked against Hob’s lips.

“I’m very tempted…” Hob breathed, nudging his nose to Morpheus’. “But this is for you. To relax.” He reminded Morpheus with a pointed look.

And, regrettably, a step backwards, but latched his hand into Morpheus’ and helped him into the water.

Morpheus dipped his foot in slowly, humming as he felt the bath slowly caress him. The water was still hot, but not uncomfortably so. Hob must’ve drawn it while Morpheus was on his way home. The idea of Hob timing his arrival to this surprise made something warm and wanting bloom in Morpheus’ chest.

As Morpheus settled back against the tub, sighing long and heavy, he allowed his eyes to slip shut. The water gently splashed around him as he got comfortable, a low groan unconsciously tumbling past his lips.

“Feel better already, huh?”

Morpheus turned his head and opened his eyes, finding Hob crouched by him, next to the tub. The flutter of the candle close by cast Hob in amber shadows that made Morpheus want to reach out and touch, curious if the curve of Hob’s cheek and jaw would be as warm as they appeared.

After a moment passed, Hob smiled again, hoisting himself up. “You just relax and enjoy yourself, okay?” He paused to plug in an old mp3 player to the speaker on the sink, where Tchaikovsky began to quietly echo off the walls. And Morpheus could only watch as Hob went to the door, turning one more time.

“I’ll check up on you in a bit, if you’re still here.”

An unnecessary afterthought, but appreciated nonetheless. Morpheus sighed again as the door closed and he looked down at himself… the thick cover of bubbles concealing his form under the steaming water. His toes peeked out from the surface near the drain and Morpheus, indeed, felt himself loosening up.

He hummed along to the violin orchestra and brought his hands out of the water to touch the cool porcelain of the tub surrounding him, dancing his fingers on the edge.

And thinking about Hob again, lit up so handsomely and warm against the candle light. It reminded Morpheus of that time they went on a vacation in the mountains, renting out a cabin with a fireplace and a lush, fur rug before it. Where they had stripped each other naked and Morpheus rode Hob with the wood fire burning next to them, accenting Hob’s best features and making everything so, so warm.

Morpheus’ hand dropped back into the water, fingers gliding along his hardening dick, teasing himself, drawing a small gasp before wrapping his hand around himself completely with a low moan.

Hob did tell him to enjoy himself.

—--------

Hob knocked on the door before opening it and allowing himself in.

“Hey love, how’s it going?”

Hob’s ears perked at the sound of water softly splashing, and the unmistakable cut-off gasps that Hob had memorized by now… if not the sound alone, then how to get Morpheus to perform that musical note over and over again.

He walked to the tub, his blood rushing south at the image that greeted him.

Morpheus’ eyes were dark, and focused right on him. The bubbles had simmered down to almost nothing and Hob could clearly see how Morpheus was taking himself apart, a hand on his cock, the tip occasionally breaking the surface, and his other hand hidden somewhere between his legs, jerking back and forth.

Hob knelt by the side of the tub, crossing his arms over the edge.

“Someone’s having fun,” Hob grinned, unable to help himself. But Morpheus only groaned, his back arching beautifully and making Hob’s mouth go dry.

“Hob…” Morpheus’s voice was like melted chocolate, so sweet and dark, making Hob lick his lips.

“What are you thinking about, my Dream?” Hob murmured, leaning up on his knees and testing the water with his fingers, finding it still warm.

“Thinking about you–” Morpheus sighed, his eyes still locked on Hob’s. “Always you.”

“Me?” Hob played along, ignoring how his breathing had become shallow and his own cock twitched in interest. He dipped his hand below the surface, finding Morpheus’ fingers around himself and wrapping his hand around both of them.

Morpheus’ eyes slammed shut and he cried out, sliding his hand free to come out of the water and grip the front of Hob’s t-shirt.

Fuck, Morpheus was already so close. Hob felt stunned as he watched his boyfriend writhe in the water, bucking his hips up in time to Hob’s strokes and causing waves that lapped over the edge of the tub and splash onto the floor, soaking Hob’s sweatpants.

Hob picked up the pace, swiping his thumb over Morpheus’ cockhead and, unable to resist any longer, lunged forward to latch his mouth against Morpheus’ just as a high-pitched moan tore through him, now muffled in Hob’s mouth.

The grip on Hob’s shirt tightened, yanking him closer as Morpheus’ tongue shot down Hob’s throat, making his hips give an involuntary jerk against the tub and for a brief moment, entertained the idea of crawling into the water with Morpheus.

Before he could even pull away to swing a leg over though, Morpheus was coming, his jaw dropping and his own hips giving short, jerky motions as he rode out his orgasm in Hob’s hand.

Morpheus’ long, low moan of satisfaction echoed off the tiled walls and tickled Hob’s ears, his own arousal coiled tight and demanding attention.

For now though, Hob took his hand away and cupped it around Morpheus’ cheek, tilting his head and resuming their kiss, slow and languid with fire simmering just below the surface.

Morpheus kissed him back just as eagerly, but clearly worn out, boneless in Hob’s hold and slouching further into the water.

He hummed like a cat content, breaking apart with a lewd, wet sound and chuckling softly.

“You were right. I needed that.”

#dreamling #hob x dream #a lil bath smut #as a treat lol #this was fun #thank you nonnie!#not quite on prompt but close enough i think haha #my writing #nsft

171 notes · View notes

nohoney · 10 months

Note

sometimes i like to think abt accidentally getting knocked up by touya and he immediately expresses distain for having a child and you understand, but you’ve always wanted a child. so you part ways without a grudge and have the baby and then you bump into touya at the market with his baby on your hip and he can’t help how his heart picks up at the sight of you holding his kid

imagine that you and him were just a random tinder match with one another, both with the agreement to have just some no strings attached fun. while there wasn’t a relationship per se, you and him get close enough to know what you want in the future; you want a family and he doesn’t.

and you didn’t plan to have that family for a while of course, but next thing you know there’s two positive pregnancy tests sitting in your bathroom. touya notices that you kinda withdraw for a bit, occasionally checking in but doesn’t necessarily go out of his way since you’re not his girlfriend. after some time mulling it over, you decide to break the news. he’s not happy and well… you’re uncomfortable.

you decided to keep it.

to be honest you weren’t going to expect him to take responsibility because in the end, you and touya do not know each other well enough to rely on one another. even discussing an attempt at the possibility of co-parenting with him ends in this stalemate. you don’t want to be locked in baby daddy drama either so you decide for him; you’re having this baby without him.

it’s not a guilt trip or anything to make him concede to you, no chasing after for child support from him or expecting anything else. touya does not want to be a father but you are already a mother.

in front of one another, the two of you delete each other’s information from your phones along with any evidence of the two of you together which really only consisted of your text chain and the occasional nude. he tells you good luck and you bid him goodbye.

you have a healthy baby boy, taking more after you in his looks but he has his father’s eyes. after delivering, you can’t help but let your mind wander to touya and wonder what he’s up to. you don’t get to dwell long though because your baby starts crying in his crib and now motherhood truly begins for you.

on a summer day when your son is just a little over a year old, you carry him on your hip as you walk through a market. you were just passing on through to buy a birthday card and then needing to drop off your son at your mother’s house before heading over to your friend’s birthday party. you talk to your son, acting like he’s apart of the card decision making, picking one up to present to him and laughing when he smacks it away.

you don’t notice touya at the very end of aisle, having recognized your voice as he passed by and doing a double take when he realizes it’s you. he hides himself a little, peeking his eye around the corner. you still rock a summer dress very well, even after having a baby, after having his baby. he observes quietly, wondering at all if it was appropriate to make himself known to you. from afar, touya sees that your son resembles more you than him but he wonder if that kid will grow up to be a little stinker like he was when he was a brat.

your son holds tightly to a card you hand him and you praise him for choosing the right one for his auntie. you adjust him on your hip and start to walk towards the self checkout aisle. touya sees his son’s face, gets a glimpse of turquoise blue that he inherited from his father and is passed down to your kid. and really he should keep his distance, let you go on about your day and he should go on with his.

and yet he follows in your direction, leaving behind his basket, and he’s tapping your shoulder before he can even think twice about it. “hey (name)…”

“oh… touya?”

#what a prompt nonny i really really like it!#i like to imagine that after touya and the reader departed that he couldn’t bother with hooking up for a while #mostly it was because he didn’t want to chance another accidental pregnancy with someone else but also he couldn’t move on from you either #not in a sense that he actually wanted to be with you kind of way but just that now you had this permanent tie to him #and it just sits on his mind that out there you had his baby and he’s not there even tho it was a mutual decision #he probably did move on to some degree at some point and he knows that he still doesn’t want kids #but seeing you and his son together just made him feel a certain type of way #dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #dabi angst #k.inbox

305 notes · View notes

mausinly · 3 months

Note

BIG BURLY FLUSTERED MEN with a/o who takes one of their hands and kisses their knuckles - knuckles that have been covered in blood - and big burly man (I’m imagining König) just self destructs. Blue screens. Combusts.

Unwinding after operations is always a hassle. There's this limbo between finishing the mission and arriving back at base where adrenaline is still high, but you can't stay in one place long enough to come down from it.

Everyone is still milling about the building your unit is using as a temporary base. Counting your dead, if any, and treating the wounded before heading to the drop ships to fly back to KorTac's base.

You and König are holed off in a corner of the courtyard, you being seated on a bench with your back pressed against the wall while he sits on the ground between your legs. He rests his head back on your thigh, and you can feel the way he fidgets. Itching for something when there is nothing left to do but wait. His mask is still on, along with the rest of his gear. One of his hands idly tap your ankle, trying to find some way to release this anxious energy he has until you both can get back to base, where he knows it's safe.

You look down at him and remove your gloves, placing them aside before sneaking one of your hands under his hood and the balaclava beneath. Your fingers drag against the column of his neck, and your nails gently scratch his nape, making him groan and tilt his head back further to look up at you.

König let's out a grunt and fixes you a curious look. You hold out your free hand toward him. "Give me your hand." You murmur, and he does so compliantly.

He melts a little at the pleased little smile you give him, eyes darting down to where your hand holds his. His are so much bigger than yours, thicker too with the bulky material of his gloves. The fabric is stained red, speckles of blood still wet and crimson. He frowns a little at the idea of your hands becoming stained as well.

König thinks to rip his hand from yours, but falters when you begin to tug the leather off his fingers and down his wrist until his skin is released from the suffocating material. His hands are rough, pale and scarred and calloused. Your hands aren't perfect, but they are much more delicate and pretty than his in comparison.

You seem to disagree, though, with the way your hands trace the shape of his. You spread his fingers a little, dragging your nails along each callous and faded scar. It's almost devout in the way you study each line of his palm, the pads of your fingers so gentle against his skin.

You lift his hand up to your lips, tenderly pressing a kiss to each knuckle. You start at the base before moving down each finger, almost as if you don't want any of them to be left out. He would have laughed at the thought if his body wasn't frozen like a deer in headlights.

Your eyes fall down to his and your smile widens at the absolutely mystified look in his eyes, stormy blues flickering between yours and your lips against his hand as his pupils dilate.

His mouth opens and closes underneath his mask, but any attempts to speak die in his throat. How could you put so many thoughts in his head that he is unable to fabricate them into words? Do you have any clue what you do to him?

You let out a small chuckle and go back to kissing his hand, trailing your lips down across his palm and the back of his hand. You pull down the edge of his sleeve just to press your lips to his wrist. König groans as your affection doesn't let up, long and pained as his head lulls against your thigh and he drapes an arm over his eyes.

"Du wirst mein Tod sein, Engel..." He murmurs, thankful that his mask hides the stupid grin on his face.

#maus writes #i have no fucking clue what just came over me #i opened my ask box and posted my pinned post with the intention of replying to some brainrotting asks with like 2-3 paragraphs or smth #you got a whole drabble as a treat thank you for the most amazing prompt nonnie <3 #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #konig x reader #konig cod #konig mw2 #also sorry if the german is atrocious blame google translate 😔#im a sucker for some hand appreciation and i know konig would be too

50 notes · View notes

ladytauria · 6 months

Note

The prompt list. Listen. I think Jason deserves a kiss to the thigh. Whoever you want to give it to him

nonny you are SO right

i went with jaytim bc i'm predictable like that~

Tim challenges anyone to find a more comfortable pillow than one of Jason's thighs. (Well---alright. They actually come in at a close second to his chest, while his stomach sits at a narrow third. But---still.) There's nothing like reclining on the couch, his head pillowed on Jason's lap while the TV plays in the background.

Tonight, Tim's foregone his laptop. For once in his life, he's had enough of numbers. He just wants to relax with his boyfriend.

Jason's hand drops into his hair, stroking idly through the strands. Tim's eyelids droop. He raises his hand, wrapping it around Jason's knee; thumb pressed to the back of it. Jason's leg shifts to accommodate him.

He smiles, humming softly. He turns his face, pressing a kiss to Jason's thigh. Jason's fingers pause in his hair for a moment, and then continue; the gentle scratch of nails against his scalp making Tim wish he could purr, pushing into his hands.

Jason laughs; a soft huff of air that turns Tim's insides soft and fuzzy. "Overgrown kitten," he murmurs.

Tim's mouth twitches. "Meow~"

Jason snorts, flicking his ear. "Hush, I'm watching a movie."

Tim nips him through his sweats, earning a light tug to his hair. He heaves a put-on sigh, drawing his blanket higher up his shoulder.

Then he settles, letting the low murmur of the television and Jason's fingers in his hair lull him to sleep.

[ sultry prompts list ]

#the temptation to go with thigh worship was heavy #but that would have taken much longer so #i put the lines i wrote for it in the notion page~#i also did consider going jaysteph #but jaytim just called to me more for this one #thank you for the prompt nonny #i hope you liked it!#jaytim #timjay #dcu #tauriawritesfanfic #lovely anons #asks and answers #i also almost went with tim patching him up and kissing the wound #but i have like #2 or 3 more ‘tim patches jason up’ fics in my drafts #so…#xD

83 notes · View notes

dewedup · 7 months

Note

I feel like no one sees my vision, so please do not feel bad if you don't either:

In my mind Phantom is actually not at all innocent and the others just assume he is because he's kinda quiet because he doesn't know them that well yet. But then one day he ends up in bed with Rain and Rain is thinking he's going to be naive and innocent, but once he tries to tease him Phantom is like; actually,

²¹⁾ “if you want to come, you’ll have to beg.”

And rain is like 👀 damn, guess I'm begging tonight...

I just think Rain and Dew would think "yeah we can fuck the newbie silly, have him wrapped around or fingers" but phantom would just fucking destroy them (beautifully and consensually).

I'm talking too much and not making much sense. I just really vibed with that sentence in the prompts...

I hope your day is going well and that if this prompt doesn't appeal to you you'll get some that do!! 💜

omg nonny how could i NOT write this??

i SEE the vision, i FEEL this vision, i hope this IS the vision!!!

²¹⁾ “if you want to come, you’ll have to beg.”

phantrain, top!phantom, bottom!rain, basically rain gets his world rocked

Rain and Phantom have been making out lazily in the water ghoul’s bed for hours. All hot puffs of air, lips tracing skin and soft breathy moans.

Phantom’s a little bit of an enigma, floating from one ghoul to the next and leaving them all tight-lipped and refusing to share any details of their escapades. Even Dew, who he’d joked with about fucking Phantom silly and getting him cockdrunk on them, didn’t utter as much as a word about how he’d had the quint ghoul wrapped around his finger the other night. And Dew isn’t usually one to shy away from a good kiss and tell.

If anything, it’s made Rain want this even more. To have the small ghoul pliable under his fingers, taking what he gives him and keening under his praise. It must really be an out of body experience if it’s left loud-mouthed Dew speechless.

Rain let out a gasp as fingers brushed his hole, already stretched to take a few from earlier exploration. Phantom’s opening had received the same treatment, taking turns pushing each other open wide. Rain’s versatile, never opposed to a good dicking down, but mostly prefers being a top. Has imagined bending Phantom in on himself as Rain slams ruthlessly into him, needs it like he needs oxygen to breathe.

Rain grasps his cock, moving slightly to hover in a position where he can drag it lazily around Phantom’s slick hole, moving in light circles and only applying the faintest hint of pressure.

Faster than he can blink he’s being flipped over, pushed into the bed hard with Phantom wasting no time shoving his cock as far as he can into Rain, burying himself deeply. The sound that leaves Rain’s lips is partly surprised, coming out in a higher pitch than he’s ever heard himself make. His whole world view has shifted in the span of milliseconds and now he’s being filled up, pushed to his limits while Phantom’s dick brushes against the softest part of him.

“If you want to come,” Phantom growls, licking a fat stripe up Rain’s neck, nipping slightly at the tender skin. “You’ll have to beg.”

Rain’s cock jumps at the command, pre splashing onto his stomach as he looks up in genuine surprise at the tiny ghoul above him. He doesn’t look so tiny now, crowding Rain with his hands slightly above his shoulders, face inches from his own, and his cock carving its own home inside Rain’s asshole.

“S-shit,” Rain breathes, clenching down on the thing filling him up completely. This is… unexpected. Rain has built this fantasy up over the last few weeks, painstakingly creating layers of exactly how this would play out, never once considering this turn of events. It’s almost too much all at once, the sensation, the mental and physical somersault he’s just been victim to.

But Rain’s versatile, can roll with the proverbial punches. So, he mentally shrugs while physically bearing down on the cock splitting him open.

Looks like I’m begging tonight.

It’s early the next morning when Rain enters the kitchen, slowly easing his way onto the chair, lower body on fire from the way Phantom absolutely ruined him last night.

Dew’s up, sipping at his scalding hot coffee and eyeing Rain’s movements with a calculating look. He grabs Rain a mug of his own, making it the way the water ghoul prefers before taking a seat and sliding it across the table to him. Rain blushes as he offers his thanks, taking a sip of the beverage.

“So… Phantom?” Dew ventures, a knowing smirk dancing across his face. If possible, Rain blushes even harder, eyes widening as he tries to look anywhere but at the fire ghoul taunting him from the other side of the table. The fucker knew this was how it’d go down and didn’t even give a ghoul a curtesy warning.

Phantom enters the kitchen quietly, making his way to the refrigerator, letting a hand float out to drag across Rain’s shoulders as he props open then fridge door. Rain’s skin burns where the touch lingers like a ghost, truly wishing the ground would open up and swallow him back to the pit in this particular moment.

As if it couldn’t get any worse, he sees Swiss making his way down the hallway, face splitting into a grin as he surveys the water ghoul.

“Phantom took you for a ride, yeah?”

#thank you nonny #the band ghost ficlet #the band ghost #phantrain #phantom ghoul #rain ghoul #gloom writes #fic prompt

109 notes · View notes

poguesprincess · 2 months

Note

a lot of rafe writers do rafe x soft!reader. what do you think about rafe with a bad ass reader who doesn’t take shit from no one especially rafe? you can do headcannons or a blurb i don’t mind. thanks!

- 💌 (can i be if it’s not taken)

the way i just posted about this concept before seeing ur ask!! our brains ..

and yes, you absolutely can!!

*.⊹˚𝜗୧ ‧₊˚

it drives him absolutely mad, but he can’t seem to find it in him to ‘fix’ it. he calls it an attitude problem, but you don’t see it that way.

half your relationship is frustrated groans and grumbles from the boy— who’s just as difficult as you are, for the record. he’s always mumbling a string of curses and complaints (“dont know why i put up with your ass”) when you say or do something he doesn’t like.

when he first met you, he thought he could flip the switch in your brain eventually and get you to listen to him, but you were stubborn, and he was quick to realize that there was little to nothing he could do about it. there wasn’t a moment you didn’t do exactly what it was you wanted to do, and while it raises his cholesterol and creases the stressed lines of his forehead a little deeper— he gets caught up on how pretty you are, and how precious your doe eyes are, the way your eyelashes frame the large, demanding orbs— and then he’s too far gone to register that you’re completely disrespecting him.

don’t even get him started on how you dress— the scraps of fabric you call clothes and are so adamant on wearing in public have him on high alert at all times, constantly scoping out the scene to make sure no eyes are on his girl. he’s hardly ever seen without a possessive hand on your ass (that you’ll smack away every once in a while, just to tease him. “hands on your own cargo, playboy”, you’ll tell him).

“can’t you wear some fuckin’— normal clothes for once?” he whispers agitatedly into your ear. it gets you going how easy it is to rile him up sometimes.

when he tells you to slow down on the drinking when you’re partying, or orders you to sit on his lap when he’s dragged you to topper’s or kelce’s— and he’s met with your middle finger absently flung in the air in his direction, his jaw ticks.

“show some respect, will you?”

“why, cause you’re a man, ‘n that makes you the boss of me?” it always makes topper snicker.

“you— you’re fuckin’— insufferable, you know that? can’t fuckin’ listen to me for once in your life can you?”

you’ve heard it a million times, and you roll your eyes. you don’t even bother to look at him, and he could just about lose it. he doesn’t know why he puts up with you.

“y’aint the boss f’me rafey. ‘s time someone humbled you.” even the way you mumble it is laced with insubordination.

he lets out a frustrated huff, tonguing the inside of his cheek as he eyes you— his patience is running thin. you dont even flinch when he surges towards you, tugging you into a separate room to “talk you down” (it never works), face squished between his fingers painfully as he forces you to meet his gaze.

“i oughta fuck that attitude right out of you, huh? would teach you to stop actin’ like a spoiled brat.”

you smile, and his self control slips as the dopey, brattiness of it makes his dick harden. that teasing, defiant smile. when he fucks you, it’s like a challenge to see who’ll back down first. he always gets you right on the cusp of breaking before he hears what he wants to.

“you gonna listen to me, now?” the way he pounds into you and hits that spot every time has you nodding incessantly, moans spilling from your swollen lips without control. he’ll try and get you to say it out loud for him, but he still fails. you’ve got some bite left in you. it’s only when you’re screaming his name until he’s satisfied.

you’re trouble, but he just can’t seem to let you go. ‘specially not when you’re the best fuck he’s ever had in his life.

#꒰ ۫ ੭ requests! ୨ৎ ꒱#💌 nonnie!#εïз rafe prompt !#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe cameron prompt

525 notes · View notes