#to see him here has awoken a deep love in me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

smallestapplin · 9 months

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Let me love you into the night.

🔞mating press, soft, established relationship, womb is said, size kink.🔞

Dracula x fem reader

Another repost from my now deleted side blog.

Walking through the castle has always been something you enjoyed, but it was a bit tedious when you simply wanted to get to bed.

Unfortunately for you, unlike previous times, you’re walking to bed alone, as your husband stayed behind to handle something with his underlings.

The castle hallways always felt cold without him at your side.

Walking into your bedroom always feels unreal, the bed is quite massive and lavish, with tall bed posts with curtains to hide you from the world.

Even after all these years, you just can’t believe you married such a wonderful man. You sigh, lazily stripping so you could get into your night clothes. Yet something catches your attention before you can grab a shirt, in the corner of Dracula’s reading chair.

And on that chair lays a shirt of his, neatly laying across the arm of the plush surface.

You can’t help but stare at it, like it’s taunting you.

Your beloved is a large man, you don’t even reach his with how tall he is, not to mention how wide his shoulders are.

His shirts have always been massive on you, to put it lightly. The fabric always drags across the floor, the sleeves nearly touching the floor.

You walk over to the large chair, picking up the oversized shirt and bring it up to your nose, taking a deep inhale.

Oh, the smell of him alone is enough affect you, the deep smell of oak, wine, and a hint of copper from the blood he drinks, it’s so overwhelmingly comforting.

It’s a deep rich blend, that’s perfect for him.

You can’t resist. You grab the hem and pull it over your head, allowing yourself to drown in his shirt. But in turn, you’re surrounded in his scent. Maybe you can fall asleep faster with this.

Happy with your sleepwear of course, you crawl into bed and under the cozy comforter. You lay there half and hour more, hoping and waiting to see if maybe Dracula would be here soon. You know he can get quite busy, so it doesn’t sting as much when he doesn’t arrive.

You move over, getting on his side of the bed and laying on his pillow, before curling up and getting comfy. Finding it easier to fall asleep surrounded by his rich scent.

You were awoken by the feeling of the mattress sinking, accompanied with the hushed sounds of someone whispering.

You groan, barely cracking your eyes open to see Dracula sitting next to you, cooing softly at your sleepy form.

“I’m sorry, dear, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

His voice barely above a whisper.

He brings a hand up, gently stroking your head. You lean into his touch, nearly falling back asleep at such comfort.

“But I couldn’t resist when you look so positively adorable in my clothes.”

You let out sleepy giggles, feeling his goatee tickle your skin while he presses soft kisses all over your face. His long silver hair creates a curtain around you both, as you let the vampire love you without a care.

“M’sorry.” You yawn, stretching a little before wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him a little closer.

His hands move to either side of you, keeping his weight off you while caging you between him and the bed.

“I saw it on your chair, and I missed you, so it helped.” You bury your face into his neck, sighing contently that you get to hold him again.

Dracula purrs, nuzzling his face into your neck as well, leaving little kisses in his wake.

“I’m sorry beloved, I didn’t mean to take so long.”

“It’s okay.” You mumble, finding comfort in him being over you like this.

You feel him shift, moving you on your back and laying in between your legs. He lifts himself up, looking down at you he can’t help but admire you.

How you’re practically drowning in his shirt, how you’re so much smaller than him, so much softer than the calloused skin of the vampire.

“Stop staring like that, it’s embarrassing.”

Dracula blinks a few times before softly laughing at your bashful face.

“My apologies, dearest, you’re just far too sweet. How can I not gaze at such beauty?”

He leans down, leaving kisses along your cheek, slowly moving closer and closer until he gets to your lips.

He pauses for a moment, looking into your eyes with pure want. You pull him further down by his shoulders, finally pressing your lips against his.

He hums into the kiss, pressing some of his weight against you. He brings a hand to cup your face, thumb rubbing against your cheek, while being mindful of his nails. You melt against the bed, relishing in his tender touches, and the weight of him against you.

You whimper, squirming when his tongue lightly touches your bottom lip. You part your lips, allowing him to slowly slide the tapered appendage in. You tighten your hold on his shoulders, trying to stabilize yourself.

You to let out a muffled gasp, feeling his cock hardening against your thigh. Your movement and sounds aren’t helping him, he simply wanted to tell you how cute you were.

Oh, who is he kidding? He found you in his garb, sleeping so soundly, as if you were at peace in his clothes. How could he not be affected by such a lovely sight?

He twists his tongue around yours, soaking up all your sounds and licking up all your drool, wanting it all for himself. You can’t help the whimper that leaves your throat, feeling his fangs brush against your lips.

He pulls away from you, letting you take gulps of air. You stare up at him, eyes shimmering with want as the thin strand of spit connecting you two, breaks on your lips.

“My, you certainly are an intoxicating sight.”

Your breathing hics, as the hand on your cheek slides down your neck, slowly over your tit, down to your side before reaching the hem of the shirt. Dracula lightly drags his nails across the bare skin of your outer thigh, delighting in how you tremble for him.

Once his hand reaches your hips, you see his red eyes flash up at you, smirk on his lips.

“No underwear? What a naughty little thing you are.”

He sits up, resting on the bed with his legs under him. His other hand now free to join under your shirt, this time only sliding up much further.

Your skin prickles at his featherlight touch, only to mewl when his large hand cups your breast. A purr rumbles in his chest, as he eyes you like a meal.

“You truly are filled with surprises, my treasure.”

You squeak as his thumb brushes against your perked nipple, carefully taking the bud between his thumb and pointer finger, lightly squeezing it.

“Mm! Ooh, Vlad…please stop teasing me.”

“Oh but why? You look quite ravishing like this. All flustered under me, squirming. I can hear your heart pounding, Love. You like this as much as I do.”

He’s not wrong, you can’t deny how much you want him. How much you need him to fuck you, to love you.

Dracula lifts the shirt just over your chest, wanting to keep you in it as long as he could - Yet finding it a difficult balance between keeping it on and just tearing it off, so he could finally admire your wondrous body.

The hand on your hip trails over, gently sliding down your wet slit. He chuckles at how you try to control yourself. His fingers slide up and down, until he’s sure they are coated in your slick. He pushes one finger into your clenching hole, one’s you feel aren’t sharp. He grins at seeing your back arch.

His thumb began rubbing slow circles on your clit, teasing you with his light touches. You want to beg him for more, but your body is still sensitive from waking up, you don’t know if you could handle it.

Dracula leans back down, licking a long strip up your stomach, slowly drooling as he moves up your body. It’s not long before his tongue flicks your nipple, and wrapping his lips around it, gently biting and sucking on it.

Tugging at your other one, listening to you cry out.

It’s all at once! You can feel his fangs scraping against the soft flesh of your tit, but you know they pose no threat. The feel of his goatee brushing across your skin.

His large hand squeezing and caressing the other.

And oh, his rough hand fingering you open! You whine as he pushes another finger into your hole. You reach up, running your fingers through his silver locks, holding his hair out of his face and holding his head to your chest.

“V-Vlad!” You can’t help but cry his name.

You buck your hips, trying to grind against his hand.

“Come on, please? Haaa- please! I want you inside me!”

He moans around your tit, only letting go of it to speak to you.

“So needy. Have some patience, beloved.”

Before you can retort, his fingers curl, easily hitting your sweet spots with ease. Your toes curl at the pleasure, with your body feeling like a live wire.

“You’re truly a sight, so stunning. Like a sweet little deity under me, letting me pleasure you like this.”

You shriek, squirming as you feel his palm grind against your clit, with his fingers tenderly rubbing that delicate spot inside you. Dracula bites his lip, watching you cum, watching your body tense and shake, coating his hand with your juices.

“There you go, Little love… Shhh you’ve done so well for me.”

He helps you ride your high, only pulling his fingers away when you fall limp against the bed. You lean your head back against the pillows, chest heaving from your orgasm. You shakily open your eyes, squeaking as Dracula pulls his hand from your cunt, bringing them to his face just to lick them clean.

His eyes glow a soft red as he moans at your taste.

“Like the finest ambrosia…”

Your face feels hot, but you can just sit there a watch the vampire toss his cloak aside. Your eyes instantly going to where his hands go.

“You’re shaking, and I haven’t even undone my pants yet.”

“Hnn don’t tease me, not like this.”

You plead with him, looking up at him with tear filled eyes and a pouting lip.

How can he say no to you?

Dracula merely chuckles, aware of how you’re staring at the large bulge in his pants. You wait with bated breath at the first sound of his belt, then the zipper, watching him pull his pants down just far enough to free his dick.

You spread your legs further apart, putting your pussy on display for him, letting him see your juices drip down to the bed. His cock throbs at the sight, tip leaking precum just staring at your cunt.

You bite your lip as he spreads your pussylips apart with his thumbs, eyeing your soaked hole hungrily. You knew what he wanted to do, but you just wanted him.

“Is it too much to ask for my husband’s cock?”

His eyes quickly snapping up to meet yours.

“Just to stuff me full of it? Please, I need your cock in me, fucking me to the brim-!!”

You cut yourself off with a yelp, while Dracula grabs the back of knees and brings them up, they nearly touch your chest with how he has your folded.

“Fuck, you make it so hard to take my time with you.”

You let out a soft whine, feeling him rub his cock against your dripping wet heat.

“When all I desire is to cherish you, you look at me with such pitiful expressions- Ones I cannot resist.”

Your breathing catches in your throat, watching the head of his dick press against your cunt. You toss your head back, wrapping your arms around his neck while you mewl at him pressing into you.

“Maybe it’s because I adore you so, you’ve taken over my thoughts, my heart. I crave you.”

“Vlaaad!” You whine, panting even though he’s barely half way inside you.

You feel so full! He just keeps pushing into you. Rubbing your thighs to help soothe you, though he knows you can take it, you always have.

“I love you so much. I want to love you like this, every waking moment, to just have you.”

The vampire looks down at you, taking in the sight of your watery eyes, your flushed face, and just how stuffed you are. Dracula lets go off your legs, letting them rest on his shoulders as he leans over you, caging you between him and the bed.

His body covering you, blocking you from the rest of the world. He’s all you can see, he’s all you can hear, he’s all you feel.

“Mm, watching you fall apart on my cock is too addicting.”

He grinds his hips against yours, letting you feel the heavy weight of his balls against your ass. He buries his face into your neck, lavishing the skin with kisses, and tender nips.

“Feeling your touch leaves me delirious, wanting only more.”

Dracula pulls his hips back, leaving only half of his cock inside you, only to gently push back in, setting an even rhythm.

Every roll of his hips, sends his cock so deep into your pussy, kissing your womb with each gentle thrust. Your nails dig into his shoulders, crying out with every thrust.

“Ooh! S’good, s’good!”

“You’re squeezing me too tight, darling!”

His words and how lovingly he fucks your body, it’s making your head spin!

“I love you! I love you! Please-“ you’re cut off as his lips crash into yours, muffling your pleads.

His sharp nails lightly dig into your thighs, but you’re too much for the vampire! You’re too sweet, too good, always leaving him longing for more of you just to get a taste again.

With every piston of his hips, his balls slaps against your ass, letting the room fill with the sounds of your love making.

Your body jolts, parting from his lips after he nips them. Moaning when he licks your bleeding lips clean.

“S-so good to me, my-oh!- sweet husband! Always too good for me!”

His eyes flutter back, before he lets out a low growl. He can feel his shaft throbbing at your words, ready to spill his load into you.

“You always do so good for me. I want you to cum for me again, milk my cock.”

You squeal, tugging at his hair as your cream all over his dick. Dracula moans at feeling your small pussy squeeze around him. His balls clench as he pumps his thick cum into your greedy cunt, grinding his hips to make sure you take all of it.

Your pitiful whimpers are like music to his ears.

He coos softly at you, wiping your overstimulated tears. You’re exhausted once more, you just want to go back to sleep. Only to be drawn back by a few tender kisses.

You lazily chuckle, glancing to your lover.

Locking with his shimmering red eyes, and seeing the warm smile across his face.

“I hope you don’t plan on falling asleep just yet, I still have to clean you up.”

He cackles at how you thrown you head back and groan.

“Noooo, I don’t want to, not yet, please?”

“Darling, I need to get you washed up and ready for bed.”

“I want to stay full, I don’t want to be empty just yet.”

Dracula coughs, almost choking on air, as he stares at you, eyes wide.

Oh how you get him so flustered sometimes. He sighs, keeping his cock inside you as he flips you two over, letting you lay on his chest without his dick ever leaving your pussy.

“How about this then?”

He hums happily as you nuzzle into his chest.

“This is perfect.”

He smiles, rubbing small circles on your lower back. He can’t believe he got so lucky in love once more, to have found you, and to earn your love.

He feels a warmth in his chest just thinking about it.

“I love you, my treasure.”

“Mm I love you too, my husband.”

He could swoon at just hearing you call him that.

He still has to bathe you, and get you cleaned. Looking down he finds you’ve completely passed out on him. Even if he wanted to, he doubted he could bring himself to disturb you resting so peacefully- So what a few hours of rest with you more

#smut #spicy #🔞🔞🔞#castlevania x reader #castlevania smut #castlevania dracula #castlevania dracula smut #castlevania x reader smut #castlevania dracula x reader #castlevania dracula x reader smut

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multi-fandom-imagine · 7 months

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Hello! Can I request small drabble with Astarion and his very chaotic adorkable son? Have a nice playthrough! :3

A/n: YES! More dad Astarion! Also thank you, I will 🥰

Astarion loved his little girl, so much like you. Nothing but kind eyes and smiles from his little Sun spot. So when you approached him, informing him that you were carrying his child, well he couldn’t help but feel ecstatic about it.

I mean it’s not like he was trying to get you pregnant again, it’s not like he wanted to see more little versions of himself and you running around causing havoc.

And soon his son was born, a splitting image of him as you would often say, but his son was not his nothing like his little girl.

His son had more of a….fiery personality though the others would see him as being more chaotic.

Astarion often found himself saying no to his children, it would be worse when then would look up at him with big eye, quivering their lips.

“Astarion!”

‘Of course Gale would have to spoil his mood, it seemed the man deemed it his responsibility to look at you whenever you were pregnant.

“What do you want now? If you are asking for my beloved ! She is sleeping…she’s been awfully exhausted.”

Scowling for a moment, Gale patted out his singed robe. “I am not here for that!” The man snapped, though he took a deep breath to calm himself as he stepped towards Astarion.

“I am here for your son.”

“And prey tell me what has my son done?” Astarion stated as the three year old rushed towards his fathers arms. “Because in my eyes, he can do no wrong.”

Scoffing, Gale turned his head away as you slowly walked towards them.

“Now look at what you’ve done, you’ve awoken sweetness with your loud voice.” Astarion snapped drawing you close to his side as his son buried his face into his neck.

Gale parted his lips then let out an irritated sigh turning his head away for a moment. He could have sworn he saw the little bugger flash him a smile before he turned his head back into his fathers embrace.

“Just, watch your son Astarion. He made a small fire, one that nearly wet my robes on fire.”

“Nonsense! My children can do no harm! Especially my sim.” He stated as Gale let out out an irritated sigh.

Shaking his head, Gale cleared out his throat as he tipped his head to you and your daughter that was clinging to Astarion’s pant legs. “Just…keep a better eye on him, or at least teach him how to properly cast the damn spell.” Clearing out his throat, he gave everyone a tight lipped smile. “Have a nice evening.”

Once he was gone, Astarion gave his son a smile as he tossed him in the air. “What a good boy you are.”

His son squealed with laughter as he then wrapped his arms around his neck. “You’re not mad papa?”

“Of course not! I’m just going to have to teach you how to sneak a little better.” Astarion glanced up at you, though you shook her head you did have a smile on your lips.

Feeling rather pleased with himself he started to walk off to were you both would train. “Now come along everyone.”

Rolling your eyes, you grasped your daughters hand following Astarion and your son. “Let’s make sure they won’t burn the forest down. The last thing I need is Halsin being upset.”

Nodding her head, her curls bounced as she skipped off to her father.

Pausing in your steps your hand moved your your growing belly, your gaze softening on Astarion and your children. After all the trauma he faced, you were happy to see him slowly recover.

“Are you coming my treasure?”

Humming, you stepped towards him as you took hold of Astarion’s hand. “Yes, but let me teach him somethings. I know the perfect spells.”

“Anything for you my love.”

#drabbles #drabble #astarion #astarion romance #astarion x female reader #astarion x y/n #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion x you #astarion x tav #bauldrs gate #bauldrs gate 3 #Bauldrs gate x reader #Bauldrs gate x you #bauldrs gate 3 x reader

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mari-the-bimbo · 1 year

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Dorm mate Sukuna: when he’s sick

A/N: Happy Friday my loves!!! <3 it’s nearly the weekend so let’s start it with a bit of wholesomeness! Enjoy! 💗

Now it’s no secret that Sukuna is your personal driver, as well as dorm mate and boyfriend, he drops you off to college and picks you back up.

So it was part of the daily routine for you to either wake up early, ready for him to drop you off, or your lazy ass oversleeps and Sukuna has to wake you up. Today was one of those days.

You’re rudely awoken from your sleep as a harsh slap to your butt is given by the pink haired thug.

“Oi! Wake up you lazy cow or-“ but his threat is cut short as he sneezes. You snap out of your sleepy daze and notice the usually vigorous, muscular man looked slightly pale and unwell.

“Sukuna, are you sick?!” You asked in shock. Although someone being unwell isn’t a surprising idea, it was surprising when it came to Sukuna, considering you’ve never seen him sick.

“No” he says sternly as he saunters out your room, which was your second indicator that he was sick. The usual Sukuna would shamelessly suggested to watch you undress or would’ve tackled you to the bed for no reason. But it was obvious his usual playfulness was gone because he was tired.

“But you are sick Sukuna! I can hear you sniffing!”

“It’s coke!” He lies ridiculously, making you raise an eyebrow.

“No you’re not on drugs ‘Kuna, you’re just sick, I feel bad making you drive me to campus when you’re sick! Maybe I should stay at home and take care of you?” You suggest, making the man stop in his tracks.

You smile cheekily, knowing the pink haired man has a soft spot for you, and would do anything for your attention.

He turns around and leans against the doorframe of your bedroom, arms crossed against his broad chest. His tired red eyes boring into your own as he considered the offer.

“Fine” he said as you cheer, “but only if I get to use your butt as a pillow” he adds, a nasally laugh escapes him as he watches your face drop.

Nevertheless, the rest of the day went peacefully. First he slept on your butt for a few hours, as promised. Then he lay in your arms, moaning as you rubbed his muscular back for him.

Then after a few hours you made him hot chocolate. Now resting on your boobs as he drank the hot beverage. “Mm it’s good” he says as you hum happily while you traced his arm tattoos with a finger.

You look down at him to thank him and notice he’s already staring. “‘What you lookin at?” You say, imitating his voice teasingly. But he continues to stare at you silently, before his large tatted hand reaches out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, “hmm you’re cute you know” he mumbles. You ears turned red in embarrassment but you give him a bashful smile nonetheless.

“I know” you reply cheekily.

“Do you know you’re also a cutie when you’re sick?” You tease, knowing the man’s easily hurt masculine ego.

His eyebrows furrow as he frowns, “don’t test me silly girl” he says firmly. “But you are!” you reply. “You’re like a cutie patootie teddy bear!” You exaggerate, further infuriating the unwell man, you reach out to boop his nose but he’s quick to grab your hand, and roughly pull it until you were pulled closer to him. His strong grip on your hand stays and he speaks “who teases their man like this when he’s sick huh?” He asks.

“Me” you reply, biting your lips to hide your smile but it was useless. Your smile is infectious as he returns his own tired sexy smile to you. “Don’t make me kiss that smile off your face y/n.”

“Hey don’t do that! I’ll get sick!” You warn with a laugh, but it’s not like Sukuna ever listened anyway. The pink haired male returned to his menacing ways as he immediately shot up, and grabbed your face in his large hands.

“Come here” he says in his deep groggy voice, shoving his lips onto your own, kissing you feverishly until you pulled away.

“See? I feel better now” he says, licking his lips, making you giggle as he lays his head in your chest once again. “I’m glad” you say as you play with his pink hair.

And as the brute drifted off to sleep while snuggled between your warm boobs, he made a mental note to be sick more often.

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 2 months

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m'starting to get my groove back no emperor so here's a lil valentines day piece i wrote, hope yall enjoy ♡ ! ( a lil bit more love for the hopeless romantic singles like me, ppl in a relationship yall can get that from your s/o's..still love yall tho ♡)

fem reader, katsuki is a nervous lil thing, his friends don't help( they do end up helping him out tho), just pure fluffyness, bksquad boys are sassy towards each other but all in good fun, bkg is a softie, kirimina kinda hinted but eiji shuts it down take it how u wanna, food n takeout mentions,dude talk written by a girl trying her best, kirishima's sheets smell bad lemme know if i missed sum else ♡ !! (no friends to lovers mentioned in this one btw..starting to feel myself goin thru withdrawal already..), not rlly reader oriented like usual but i thought this was cute lol i like the idea of katsuki caring about us so much he goes out his way to ask for help from others (despite hating doing so)teehee (also i like the idea of these silly guys interacting and i like hc-ing them okay okay i'll stop rambling okay-)

the last thing kirishima expected at 9.34 pm was someone basically busting down his door with how hard they were knocking on it.

eijirou opens the door urgently and is even more suprised to see his foul mouthed best friend on the other side of the door.

"woah, bakugou, man !" he exclaims seeing the state his friend was in. his eyes looked droopy and his clothes were wrinkled up like he had done a lot of moving around. usually, he would've assumed his friend had just awoken from a good nap, but his restless expression said otherwise. "what happened to you ? you look—"

" 'm fine." bakugou gruffs hoarsely, taking a deep breath at his friends widened eyes, softening up his demeanor just slightly " i'm good," he rephrased "just—you gonna let me in or what ?"

eijirou sputters out an "of course, of course" only for his friend let himself in before he could even move aside. though he immediately freezes when he sees-

"woah, kacchan's gone nutso ! " denki exclaims, face turning red from laying upside down on kirishima's bean bag for way too long.

"and he's up past 8 ? must be the apocalypse or somethin' " sero chuckles from his place on the floor near the dresser.

bakugou groans has he flops onto eijirou’s bed "of course you losers are here" his complaint is muffled against the pillows, but not muffled enough to where the rest of the boys can't hear.

"hey ! we were here before you ! 'f anythin', you're the one intruding—!" denki gulps, eyebrows furrowed. he quickly spins around to lay right when he feels the blood rushing to his head, taking a deep breath afterwards. sero chuckles and bakugou deadpans at kaminari for a good fourty seconds before slamming his head back down and groans even louder.

kirishima decides he's at a safe enough distance to sit down on his own bed, without making any sudden moves so as not to anger the beast that is an angry, sleepy bakugou. he places a hand near his friends leg, where he deems he's at safe to ask "what's up man ? you're usually in bed by this time.." he hears sero make a noise in agreement.

"yeah, or he's havin' kissy-kissy time with his giiiirrrlffrrieeeend.." kaminari sings, kicking his feet in the air jokingly. bakugou, to everyones suprise, flinches at the mention of you, then slams his head against kirishima's pillow harder and groaning even louder.

all three friends share a curious-somewhat worried look. kirishima nudges his head in bakugou's direction, silently begging his friends to say something. said friends adamantly shake their heads, as if synchronized, making a cross motion with their arms. kirishima sighs to himself, some friends.

yet again, he is the first one to speak up " did..did something happen between you two, didja fight or something ?" he asks carefully, his entire body is strained and the air in the room is so heavy, everybody present ready to get a big portion of the great lord explodo-bomberkill's anger.

only to be met with bakugou turning around to lay on his back eyebrows strained slightly and eyes absent, thinking about something they don't know "what ? course we didn't fuckin fight, idiot." he answers simply.

the three friends all let out an obnoxious sigh of relief, to katsuki's slight confusion.

"hoo, okay." kirishima answered relieved. he knows you and bakugou don't fight very much (which he thinks is super manly) but he knows that when it happens bakugou get's extremely—EXTREMELY—irritable, so it's best to stay away from him while he has his heart broken for a little bit, unless he reaches out by himself, but that only happens when he feels really bad and came to ask for advice on how to get his boyfriend priviledges back. "soo.." eijirou sings "what happened then ?"

bakugou's face hardens and the group stiffens again, preparing for a latent explosion--perhaps the volcano was still dormant and was about to be set off. the three boys hold their breaths.

bakugou takes a deep breath, a sour expression on his face.

3..

bakugou huffs out a sigh.

2...

he opens his mouth to speak and—his cheeks are turning pink ?

"valentine's day's after tomorrow and i don't know what the fuck to get her."

the three boys slump over and kaminari does so so hard his face bangs against the floor. kirishima feels like he's in a sitcom or some gag anime.

" that's it ?" sero chuckles to himself "what ? you're worried for valentine's day ?" sero mocks, gladly taking the opportunity to mess with the blond "that shit's easy man." he cackles, leaning against the dresser more comfortably.

"yeah dude, all you gotta do is get her some chocolates and like—a teddy bear or somethin' girls love that typa stuff !" kaminari piped up, having lifted his head up from the floor. sero nods and bakugou lifts himself up to scoff at them. it feels like it comes from the deepest depth of his very being and kirishima feels a little hurt, despite not being the target of the attack.

"this is why you losers don't have girlfriends yourselves, so i don't wanna hear anythin' from you." kaminari chokes out an "ouch, dude !" " sides, i'm not just gonna settle for that boring ass shit for my girl. no chance in hell." bakugou concludes gruffly.

"yeah, yeah we get it you're the perfect boyfriend" sero quips bitterly, rolling his eyes. " why'd you come here to ask us if, according to you, we get none ?" he questioned raising an eyebrow.

"i came here for shitty hair, not you bastards." the blond spits, rolling his eyes as well before turning to kirishima, who jumps a little at his friends slightly desperate eyes on him.

"woah, i don't have—what makes you think i would be any help ?" the redhead splutters, waving his hands around.

"don't you have something goin' on with alien chick ?"

"what ?! no dude, we're just friends !"

at that, bakugou's eyes widen the slightest bit before he groans for what feels like the 5Oth time tonight, and flops back onto the bed dramatically, turning his head away from his friend " your fuckin' useless too, then." his friend grumbles angrily.

"hey !" kirishima exclaims "mean ! i help you with your girlfriend troubles all the time without having one !"

bakugou turns to face his friend again with narrowed eyes, before exhaling a frustrated sigh and lifting himself up again, eyebrows furrowed. "your sheets smell like ass by the way." he chides, nose scrunched slightly.

"h-hey !" kirishima reiterates " i was gonna wash 'em !"

bakugou gives him an incredulous look, before shaking his head, sighing.

"well look, how about you just get her something you know she likes, isn't that good enough ?" sero offers, shrugging to himself.

"ou ! i saw a guy on tiktok ask his girlfriend out with wingstop, you could like-" kaminari, despite getting lightheaded before has apparently not learned his lesson as he flips around on his back again "—ask her to be your valentines with some fast food chain she likes, and those cute pink heart balloons they sell at the mall, y'know !"

the boys all hum at kaminari's suprisingly helpful idea. kirishima doesn't wanna say it out loud but he really hadn't expected such a cute idea from his electric friend.

"y'know, i was gonna say you were just hungry with the wingstop thing, but that's actually not a bad idea kaminari." sero hums absentmindedly with an impressed expression on his face. kirishima sweatdrops at his lack of tact but isn't really suprised.

"fuck you, man ! you guys never trust me with this stuff." kaminari whines mostly to himself. "yer track record isn't really the best when it comes to scoring girls, is it ?" sero retorts.

kirishima shakes his head seeing his friends start to bicker. he decides to ignore them and turn to his spiky haired friend, who seems deep in thought "well, what about it ? that sound like a good idea ?" he asks.

"s'not half bad.." his friend mutters in response " it's a good start, i guess."i if he notices how kaminari presses a hand to his chest with a heartfelt look on his face, he doesn't comment on it.

"oh, maybe try the take-out and a movie, i'm assuming you're not trynna have a whole celebration, yeah ?" bakugou grunts in response, his nose scrunches as he cringes thinking about the idea. he shakes his head "no, want it to be..about just the two of us, y'know ?" he utters honestly, in a way that sounds way too out of character from him.

a symphony of awwwss resonates around the room and katsuki feels his cheeks heat up hard as he harshly tells his friends to shut up.

" but seriously i'm curious, you guys are already together right ? why would you need to ask her to be your valentine anyway—shouldn’t that be a given ? " sero wonders.

"i don’t fuckin know, my old hag says it’s about the principal or some shit like that." bakugou sighs, flopping back onto the bed and throwing an arm up over his eyes, it seemed like being up so late was affecting him.

"no way dude, you called your mom ?" kaminari asks, jaw practically reaching the floor (or the ceiling..?) in shock. bakugou flushes and splutters as he hears his friends reaction to this apparently shocking news.

“shut up.” he growls “she says it’s important to show i care.. my old man does it an' they're still together right now so he must be doin' something right.

"woah man.." kirishima uttered in awe " you're goin so far to make your girlfriend happy.." he clenches his fist "s-so manly !" bakugou simply grumbles to himself in response.

"honestly..i didn't expect that from you..like at all."

"fuck off !"

"like genuinely, at all. or maybe like, 0.00003 percent cha-"

" i'll fuckin' kill you tape arms !" bakugou barked, small sparks shooting out of his palms as he kneeled at the foot of kirishima's bed in pursuit of the black haired boy. kirishima swiftly swoops in and grabs his friends arm, quickly putting his finger over his mouth

"shhhh, man !" kirishima shushes. " if we're loud, class rep's gonna hear us !" he hisses.

"or worse, mr. aizawa..." kaminari whimpered.

all four boys share a shiver.

afterwards, bakugou sighs, acting as if him almost literally blowing up at his friend a minute ago hadn't happened and gets up to sit on the side of the bed.

"well whatever, i'm satisfied." he says, a little yawn leaving him "my folks gave me some ideas so i'll use those too." his eyes zip around the room and back to the floor, then he closes his eyes and speaks so quietly kirishima barely catches it

"you guys' idea isn't horrible either so i'll keep it in mind..thanks." he utters a quick " 'r whatever." before suddenly getting up and practically sprinting to the door.

it's quiet in the room as everyone sits stunned and kirishima is the first to speak again "o-oh yeah, no problem man, anytime !" he beamed, though still slightly shocked.

"yeah, no problem..!" kaminari can't seemed to decide if he wants to smile or be stunned. his mouth stuck in an awkward half-smile-half- '°O°-' face.

" course." sero raises a thumbs up and a small smile.

bakugou grunts to himself, graces his friends with a simple "night." then pulling the door open quietly, looking around the hallway quickly before swiftly creeping out the room, closing the door behind him. the boys quickly reciprocate the goodnight quietly before he can fully close it. he stutters at the door for a second longer and kirishima knows he heard them then, so he's satisfied.

it's quiet in the room for about 5 seconds after bakugou's left.

"dude, for some reason that made me feel all warm inside..is that just me ?" kaminari hummed, pressing a hand to his chest.

"nope, me too" sero admits, sighing to himself.

"yeah, same here" kirishima says as well, smiling to himself " he really cares about yn, huh ?"

"i can give him that, yeah" sero stretches, getting up so he can jump onto kirishima's bed.

"dude" he lifts his head up "your sheets do smell like ass." sero snickers.

" I- AM-GONNA-WASH-THEM !! "

afterwards valentines day comes around. the boys don't have valentines of their own but when they see you and katsuki hand in hand, with you holding onto those cute pink heart balloons from the mall, wearing a sweater a little too big for you and a valentines day gift bag in your one hand, with bakugou holding onto a bag of take-out and offering them a single side glance and a nod with a half smirk on his lips, they feel extremely proud of themselves. bakugou reminds himself to tell his friends he owes them one.

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ash5monster01 · 4 months

Text

Learning to Love Part 4

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x FemReader!PlusSize

Warnings: 18+, langauge, angst, fluff, mentions of bullying, body image issues, fat shaming, fake relationship, eventual smut, minor enemies to lovers trope.

Summary: It's not uncommon for you to be shamed for your size, it is however uncommon to be told that no one would ever date you because of it. Rafe on the other hand is used to being called a jerk, that is until he is accused of seeing people for only what's on the surface. It's purely coicidental you two meet right after these accusations are thrown your way. So even though you two don't know each other, and probably never would've looked the others way before this, now you're both going to prove a point. It's simple really, prove others wrong and don't fall in love. Easier said than done.

word count: 2.5k

Part 3 ←→ Part 5

Masterlist

You’re awoken to the bright island sun shining in your eyes. You can tell your hungover by the way it aches through your whole body. You don’t panic until you realize the open curtains aren’t the same shade as your own. You didn’t go home last night. Frantically sitting up you find your red dress has been abandoned by your bra on the ground. When you look down you find you’re wearing Rafe’s undershirt and the black spandex you had worn under your dress last night. The material is stretched tightly over your chest and the idea of Rafe seeing you like this sends you in a panic. Your eyes flick beside you to see the boys bare back as he sleeps peacefully on the pillow. He’s so perfect but you don’t have time to care as you free yourself of the covers and move to change back into your dress.

You don’t realize the movement has woken Rafe but he stays quiet because right in front of him you’re grabbing at the ends of his shirt and lifting it from your head. It takes everything not to make a noise as your breasts are freed from the fabric. He wants to give you privacy, he really does, but he can’t turn away. Not with the way your nipples harden in the cool room air. So he swallows and watches as you grab your bra and try to confine yourself once again. It’s when you have your dress pulled back up your torso he closes his eyes and prays you didn’t notice him watching. The last thing he would need is that kind of humiliation and you being upset with him for perving on you.

“Shit, my phone” he heard you starting to shuffle through things in the room, more than likely in search of his own pants that he had carried your phone and ID in all night.

“Everything okay?” his deep morning voice makes you freeze, parts of your body tingling just from those two words.

“Your pants, I need my phone. Mila is probably freaking out” you tell him as calmly as you can, having absolutely no idea what kind of wreck you look like at the moment.

“By the door I think, I don’t know. A lot of things are blurry about last night” he rolls over and his bare torso now being revealed to sober you has your knees going week. You have to get out of here. He watches as you dive towards the door, finding the grey slacks and digging deep into the pockets and finding your phone. He doesn’t miss the way you double check your ID is still stuck in your case before checking the notifications. You sat there perfectly on your knees and he wishes more than anything last night had ended with you just like that in front of him.

“God she’s pissed” you say to no one in particular as you glance at the mountain of messages on your phone.

Mila 💜

“What, not common for you to partake in a one night stand?” the glare you send his way is enough to shut him up.

“Look, I’m just gonna grab an uber and make sure she didn’t send out a search party for me” you tell him and Rafe pouts at the mention of you leaving. You don’t have time to care as you shoot a text back to Mila

Mila 💜

When you roll your eyes at the message on your phone Rafe finds himself wanting to know exactly what it said. Before he can ask you’re standing up and walking to the bathroom, flicking the lights on and gasping at your reflection in the mirror. The pool water had run your makeup under your eyes and your lipstick was smeared for what you hope was other reasons than kissing Rafe. As you try wash your face as best you can with the water and hotel soap you try to recollect everything that happened last night. You remember Levi, AJ, going drink for drink with Rafe, the swimming in the pool, but everything else was extremely blurry.

“Don’t get an uber, I’ll give you a ride” Rafe says and you sigh but allow him to anyway. He collects his own clothing from around the room, placing it all back on as best he could without looking like he had a last minute hookup. It didn’t matter, you’d both look crazy walking out of here.

You join him after only a moment, tying your hair on top of your head with the elastic band you had on your wrist. By no means do you look as perfect as last night but this would just have to do. Rafe smiles softly at you, collecting his phone, wallet, and keys from the nightstand. “Ready?”

“Sure” you say as you head towards the door and Rafe is right behind you when you swing it open. Just your luck the door across the hall from your own swings open to reveal a still perfect looking AJ followed by Levi doing the buttons to his own shirt from last night. “Great”

“Morning” Levi grins at you both and it takes everything for you to not roll your eyes.

“I’m going to the car” you tell Rafe and he nods as you do your best to escape this awkward encounter, heels dangling from your hands.

“What happened? She couldn’t finish or you?” Levi teases and Rafe knows he’s meaning Rafe couldn’t finish due to you being unattractive which isn’t true. He had practically finished last night just lightly grinding on you in the pool but since you didn’t seem to remember he wasn’t going to be one to bring it up.

“Shut the fuck up Levi” Rafe says before spotting AJ who looks embarrassed to even be caught with the exact man in particular. “Don’t forget work place romances are highly discouraged”

“I’ll have the report on your desk Monday” AJ gets out meekly and Rafe gives them both a stern look before stomping down the hallway and after his own girl who had been humiliated one too many times this morning.

He finds you in the lobby, waiting for him to join you, and based on the sad look you wear on your face he officially feels bad. Lacing his fingers through your own he gives the softest smile he can muster as you look at him with ready eyes that are a mix of humiliation and hangover. “I’m sorry”

“It’s okay, I just want to get home” you tell him and he nods as he leads you both to the door. The walk to his truck isn’t long and thankfully the ride to your apartment isn’t either. When he puts the car in park he see’s you staring at the windows inside. That’s where he see’s Mila with a slightly annoyed expression but not tearing her eyes from either of you.

“She’s watching” he says and you chuckle, turning to look back at him.

“She’s mad I scared her but she told me she wouldn’t be if it meant I hooked up with you” you tell him and Rafe chuckles before taking another glance at the brunette girl who watched you both in the window.

“We better give her a reason not to be mad then” he says and you swallow the nerves away as he leans over, hand curling around you neck, the tips of his fingers sliding through your hair. When his lips meet your own you sigh into it and allow him to kiss you like a boy should kiss a girl. It’s when his tongue slips inside your mouth you squeak in surprise and it has Rafe grinning against your mouth. After curling his tongue with your own he breaks free, that signature smirk back on your face.

“I’ll see you” you tell him and he nods like it’s already a confirmation for tomorrow or even later.

“Bye” he grins because you look like a girl who was just kissed dizzy and he was proud to be the one to do that. When your outside of the car and looking back at your apartment you’re met with Mila still looking out the window but instead of an annoyed expression she wears a proud one because she just watched you get kissed and get kissed good. So you ascent on the walk of shame but you still wear a smile because you’re pretty sure you’ve never quite been kissed like that.

“So that is why you didn’t come home last night” she smirks the minute you’re through the door and you’re rolling your eyes as you drop your shoes next to the others on the ground.

“I can talk about this once I’ve showered, brushed my teeth, and have had the greasiest breakfast possible” you tell her and she laughs, seeing the hangover, and slight hickey on your neck that you truly have no idea about.

“I’ll work on breakfast while you shower but then you have to give me all the juicy details” she says and you agree but only because a shower sounds like actual heaven on earth. So you pour yourself a large glass of water that accompanies you to the bathroom where you can start the road to recovery.

It’s only thirty minutes later you’re sitting in the kitchen, now fresh and clean, damp hair hanging over your shoulders as you devour the pancakes and bacon Mila had whipped up. While finishing your third glass of water. After finally getting a better look at yourself in the mirror you decided it’s safe to not drink so much in front of Rafe again, especially since most of the night still hadn’t come back to you yet. You didn’t even recall leaving the pool and going to the hotel room. “I’m still waiting”

“I’m recovering” you tell the girl but you know you can’t hold out on her for much longer so you sigh and drop your fork. “I spent the night with him”

“And?” she urges on and you shake your head, grabbing a napkin to wipe the syrup from around your mouth.

“We went to his work event, had one too many drinks, we couldn’t drive, so we decided to get a room. I wanted to swim so we went to the pool, and then we went to the room and slept” the pointed look she gives you says she doesn’t believe that was all that happened and you knew you’d have to give her something other than sleeping and swimming.

“Fine, we made out in the pool and things got a little heated. So we went back to the room and he touched me, I touched him, we didn’t go all the way, and then we slept” it’s a lie, majority of it. You just need to give her something so she wouldn’t be so on top of things.

“How big is he?” the question has you almost spluttering your water out of your mouth and she giggles at the deep blush you wear on your cheeks from this whole conversation. Yet the sentence does flash the memory of those tight black boxers he wore and exactly how big the package underneath looked, and that was soft.

“Big, I don’t know. I didn’t measure” she giggles like a girl who was just given the best gossip of her life and you can only smile at your one true best friend. The amount of boyfriends she goes through in a month is five times the amount you do in a year but nonetheless you two still loved each other.

“Gosh, I have no idea what has gotten into you” she tells you with a grin and the deep red blush you wear makes her smile somehow even wider.

“I have no idea what you mean” you tell her but you do. You’re not the kind of girl who has sleepovers with boys, especially after a week. You’re also not the kind of girl to even date all that often. You usually assume the worst of most men and the ones you do let get close you never let this close. Rafe had his tongue down your throat almost an hour ago and Mila had watched. You were different and both of you knew it.

“Yeah you do, you’re finally allowing yourself to be loved. I’m so happy for you” and this breaks your heart because if only she knew it was fake. That you and Rafe were just friend with some strange agreement between the two of you. “Did he see you naked?”

This is a loaded question. One you know she asks because whatever your answer is tells her everything she needs to know about how much you trust him. You still wouldn’t undress in front of her so if Rafe had seen you, in your purest and most vulnerable form she would know it’s real. At least real for you. “Topless, I’m not quite ready for that”

“That’s good, it’s a start” she says with a nod and you wish it wasn’t a lie. That Rafe really had seen you topless and you were okay with it. Okay with him seeing the stretch marks under your breasts and the small rolls under each arm. You may have a large chest but that comes with big girl territory. Not the kind of big chest a boy wants to see. Hence why you could never let Rafe see because the idea of you disgusting him would break your heart. Boy how you are wrong.

“I guess” you tell her and she smiles as she pours herself another cup of coffee.

“Well I better get ready for work, wouldn’t want my boss to fire me” she winks at you and the roll of your eyes has her giggling as she retreats down the hallway and into her room. It’s then your phone dings and takes away your attention.

Rafe

Your stomach flutters at the sentiment and you wished so badly it was a romantic gesture. Yet you knew it was only because you two had become close. Had shared personal things with the other because what you were doing revealed the most vulnerable sides of you. You can’t fake date someone you don’t trust. To bad trust for you meant falling in love.

Rafe

You were so screwed.

a/n: for some reason some of my tags won’t link your accounts, if you spot I have something spelled wrong and that’s why it’s not tagging you, please let me know!

Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @fishingirl12 @houseofperfecttaste @abbybarnesstuff @carma-fanficaddict @jjmaybankisbae @exhaustedbutelated @diagnosedpsychosis @daivny @drewstarkeygf @vinniehackersbaee @emsgoodthinkin @apollo3475 @https-urwife @willowalexissss @kisstaya @hcneyedsstuff @lexiereblogs @drewsuncrustables @mveggieburger @marvel4life3000 @bibliophilewednesday @humungouspatrolwolf @ijustwanttoreadlols @jaijustreads @sleepjam @dilvcv @aaronhotchswife

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saradika · 8 months

Text

— BLEED FOR ME | part iii

[masterlist]

mand’alor!vampire!din djarin x f!reader

rated e - 2.4k

haunted hoedown prompts: vampire!au + “i would burn the world for you.” + vampire has a taste for specific blood + revenge + (one-sided) enemies to lovers (+ 1 to be revealed!)

tags: vampire!au, drinking blood, reader has scar on shoulder, mentions of death, shared memories, light angst, references to seduction, sexual innuendo and thoughts, references to violence

The days until the winter solstice tick down. Early Autumn days start to cool at night.

You sleep under the last warmth of the sun, with windows drawn open after he leaves. The canopy is wrapped around your bed, letting in the afternoon breeze but mimicking the darkness.

And still, you feel adrift. That funny feeling is still settling in your stomach. Rolling with the sway of your step as you follow at the Mand'alor's - Din's - heels.

No longer seating across the room in the throne room. Now next to him, in a golden seat that matches his silver one.

Listening as he conducts his business. Trades and agreements, settled firmly and carefully. A disagreement, broken up without violence.

It’s fascinating.

But it feels... wrong. Your own task seeps into the honor of being at his side, polluting it. You're expected to enjoy it, to look happy, and it's become all too easy to forget what happened - why you were here.

Too wrapped up in the quiet questions he asks, in those moments of dusk and dawn. Half truths becoming whole as you guard slowly lowers. As you begin to learn about him, as well.

Things he tells you. Things you pick up, absorbing greedily without thought.

It feels like a betrayal, later.

How could you forget what happened? How could you forget your promise?

His kindness only extends because you are physically keeping him alive. You should have ended things by now.

But, you haven't.

The guilt gnaws at you. Seeping into your dreams, into those moments of connection, when your eyes can't help but close.

The images so much more vivid, now. Almost a tangibility to them - the quick, blurred edges coming into focus. Repeating, growing longer.

So much seems to focus on that night. You think it's because it still haunts you. Replaying how the shouts had awoken you. That startled feeling as you crawled out of bed.

The shadows on the walls, the weak and watery grey sky. Soon turning red, and then black - with flame and smoke.

A glint of gold. Your grandmother's necklace, lying on the bedside table. A photo of their wedding day inside, painted with such care.

Something you wish you could have saved - one of the few relics from your family, a gift from when you had left them to find your purpose.

You had always wished for a love like theirs. A fated connection.

There’s a throb as you remember the collision - something solid that knocked you to the ground. Fingers coming back sticky, your mouth tasting of copper. The visions always swim, then.

Parts you've never been able to remember, before. Always growing dim, until you'd been woken up under the tree, and it was over.

But lately, there's more. As if you're outside your own body. The limp sway of your arm, dangling as you were carried. The murmur of a low voice, though you can’t make out the words. Dark eyes looking down at you, almost brown in the morning light.

There's a sharp edge of a knife that you always walk.

Torn between pressing, nudging - trying to get get a glimpse of the vampires, the destruction. A way to remind yourself what has happened, why you are here.

And then, not wanting to see.

What if it's something you can't take back? What if it disgusts you so much that you can't help but act in that exact moment - ruining your chance?

So, you don't.

You let the images pass - carefully collecting them. Pressing them lkke flowers between a book, something to come back to layer. Not even realizing that deep, deep down...

You’re really just hoping that you don't see him.

You really shouldn’t have gone down to the kitchens.

A heat still burns in your cheeks at the thought, when you finally made your way back to your room. Your treasure procured - a freshly baked pastry with homemade jam clutched in your fingers.

The food here is the best you’ve ever had. You can admit that, at least. All the Companions are well-fed, with treats and delicacies always left out downstairs.

It’s here, that you had found a few others.

Beautiful men and women, all gathered around a smoldering fire as the sun had begun to rise. Their other halves flitting off to hole up until nightfall.

But just like you - there was a desire to see the sun, at least.

You had joined them, half out of loneliness and half intrigue. They had accepted you quickly, stifled laugher and glances over their shoulder as they had whispered questions.

“So how is the Mand’alor? I’ve always wondered.”

“You don’t have any marks. Does he drink from your-”

An elbow then to her side, her words had cut off with a giggle. A head turned- an aside to her friend.

“Lady Kryze is always so thorough. I haven’t slept in days.”

Someone else had sighed.

“What I wouldn’t give to be Lord Fett’s Companion.”

You had realized there’s desire in their words. That none of them were afraid, that there was a sense of private camaraderie and knowing amongst them.

That unsettling, confused feeling comes back. They were human, like you. Did they not know what the vampires did? Were they so shallow that coin and finery had bought their loyalty?

Their eyes were on you, expectant. You had no choice but to shrug with embarrassment.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

They were quick to set you straight.

“It’s like, a feeling, you know?”

“You have to lean into it. That connection.”

“The first time I tried it, I had marks up and down my thighs by morning.”

There was an eagerness that laced with jealousy, leaving you even more bemused than before. Faking a prior engagement as you had left them, promising to give it a try.

Privately, you told yourself you wouldn’t.

You couldn’t.

Looking back, you can’t even remember the taste of the jam, what fruit it was. All you could think about is this new facet of their relationships.

Wondering if that will be expected of you. Wondering why you weren’t warned.

Wondering if you cared.

Wouldn’t that be a good way to get closer?

The thought makes you uneasy.

You’d put an end to this. But you weren’t so cold-hearted to stoop to seduction. That wouldn’t be fair, to Din.

But as the sun rises, when he comes back.

When his mouth is pressing against your wrist, when you’re looking at the bow of his lips and the wide breadth of his armor, that wondering comes again.

The thoughts creep in.

For he is handsome… the parts of him you have seen. A rich voice and the breadth of his shoulders in his armor. The little upward tick of his lips in a rare smile.

And you are human, after all.

You find yourself imagining marks on yours thighs, on the soft curve of your neck.

How your blood would throb, rushing down to pool beneath heated skin - wet and swollen. The thud of your heartbeat kicks up a notch, as your thighs press together. As you squirm in your seat.

You don’t know his face but you do know his mouth. It’s his teeth you picture sinking into your skin, your mind nudging curiously at the thought.

It sends a jolt down your spine. Pricking at your skin, heat licking at your chest and down to your belly. Then slipping lower. Your breath catches in your throat-

His grip on you tightens, then. It’s almost painful - startling you. A hushed cry rattles from your lungs as he pulls back with a rough gasp.

“Ulyc, cyar’ika.” Din’s voice is ragged, as his hips shift upward - letting go, as you pull your wrist back to your chest, “I’m sorry. But you can’t-”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his thought. A knock at the open doorway, Boba’s face grave as it turns your way.

“Mand’alor.” His voice is low, his brows drawn together. “The city, it calls for you.”

Din’s chest still heaves, his hand dragging across his mouth as he composes himself. The helmet sliding back into place as he stands, but still keeping himself close to you.

“Wolves?” He asks.

Boba shakes his head, “Raiders, from the looks of it. Like before. I can send someone, or go myself.”

You forget about the pain, about everything, for just a second. The thought of the town below in ruins sends you back to a year ago, sorrow twisting through your chest.

It has you half-standing, but Din’s hand is pressing against your shoulder, carefully easing you back down.

“I’ll go.” His voice is firm, “This has gone on long enough.”

A second, as he turns to you, “I need to take care of this. Boba will look out for you while I’m gone.”

Something like worry creeps in. Aware of the weak light that slips through the cracks of your curtains, how soon it will be morning.

“The sun…” You begin hesitantly, and he’s stepping closer.

“I’ll be fine.” His fingertips touch your jaw and that has you looking up - wishing once again that you could see his eyes.

Giving him just a small nod, instead.

From your window you watch him leave. The glint of his silver armor in the morning sun, now - his movements practiced as he swings a leg over the slate-grey horse.

Drawing his sword - the metal dark and gleaming and looking almost alive, even as far away as you are.

Watching as he gallops down the path, racing off to ward away the threat.

Leaving you inside the castle, to wait.

You worry turns into something else, as the hours pass.

Anger, at the thought of him rushing off to save this town, when he had launched an attack on yours. Did human life mean so little?

Did he even think about the bodies that had lied littering the streets, the memories that has been torn down?

Was it only because these humans were complicit, that they were spared?

You had awoken to screams. You don’t know if your town had even been asked.

The mark on your wrist stays red, unhealed. A reminder while he is gone. That you’ve slipped too far, that you need to get over the tender feelings you’ve pretended not to notice.

They fester inside your chest. You dream about him while he’s gone, as the day bleeds into another.

His face bare, features blurry above the lips and nose you know so well. Leaving you to wonder if his eyes are red, like the glimpses you’ve gotten of Lady Kryze? Are they burgundy, like Boba’s?

Replaying the sound he had made, the morning that he left. The edge his voice takes just after he feeds, lasting through the few moments he stays afterwards. That pulsing, thudding beat that leaves you squirming, when you’re alone again.

Leaving you with the urge to sink your own teeth into something.

Those thoughts are ruled by your heart, not your mind, not your logic. Another betrayal, your eyes unable to help flicking towards the window, again and again.

Looking to the others throughout the day, checking for any news or weakness.

A sign that he’s fallen.

None come.

You try not to think about the relief that follows. Or why you feel listless, your eyes dragging over the same words in the books you pick up, in an attempt to pass the time.

Your enthusiasm for the food waning - more in tune than ever with the hours that pass.

Still wondering about the town, below.

You had spoken to some, in your journey here. They had been good people, honest folk.

Maybe along the way, there had been a mistake. An itch in your brain that you haven’t been able to scratch, irritating you since you arrived.

You’ve decided to ask Fennec about it.

Not about anything that would raise suspicion.

Just why the Mand’alor himself would feel the need to go alone. What sort of promise he had made, to go rushing off with such intensity?

Maybe then, you could understand.

You find her by accident - in a large ballroom that you often cut through.

The ceiling painted in a wash of colors, accented in gold. Seraphs lying on clouds and sprawling gardens and somehow always feeling bright, even in the dim room.

Liking the way your feet echo, in the empty room. A swing in your step as if you were dancing too, even if just pretend.

But you’re not alone today - she sits in one of the plush alcoves. Arms bared where her shirt pushes up, a dark jerkin slung over one of the marble statues that line the walls.

"I'm sorry-" You manage, attempting to back out of the room. The moment looked private - your question could wait.

Her eyebrow lifts, looking unbothered, "You can come in, I'm just preparing."

The way she lounges is casual, as if she does this regularly. Propped up against a nest of pillows, a book opened against her bent knees. An arm draped to the side, an ooze of red that drips down to a half-full goblet below.

A jar of that same salve Din had given to you sits in the open windowsill, for after. A means to wipe the mark from her skin, to knit it neatly together again.

The sight makes your stomach turn, even after all this time.

"Are you leaving, too?" Your head nods towards the cup, as you linger in the doorway - thinking about what Boba had said about her ferocity.

Her brows pinch in question, as you gesture to her arm.

"No," Fennec's head shakes, as she understands. "This is our arrangement."

"I didn't know you could do it another way." You say this without thought - wondering if this had been what Din was offering, that first night. An alternative to biting - another small attempt at adjusting to your comfort.

"I tried the usual way." She shrugs, eyes dropping down at the text, "This is better, for us. It's tedious, for certain. But I've never enjoyed the connection. Boba's memories are..."

Fennec searches for the word, as you go still, "...Unpleasant. And I am sure mine are worse."

His memories.

Is that what you've been seeing? Those flashes of thought that blend with your own, when his teeth sink into your skin?

But how can they be, when you are in them?

"But, I am sure that's different for you." Her expression is sly, lips curving in a small smirk. A sharp glimmer replacing the far-away look in her eyes, coming back from her own evocation.

"What do you mean?" You ask, your voice sounding far away.

Dazed, as if the words are taking their time on their trip from your thoughts to your tongue.

That look comes back. As if you're on two different brainwaves, as if she isn't understanding what you're asking.

"Well, I thought that would be obvious. We’re not like you…" Fennec frowns, her head tilting. A breath, as she clarifies.

"Boba isn't my mate."

Ahh and the last Secret Prompt from the list is soulmates / fated mates! 💕 thank you so much for reading! If you’d like a tag for the last 2 parts, please let me know!

Ulyc, cyar’ika - “careful, beloved”

(Tags: @dameron-grant-spector, @sugadolly, @writingsofestella, @spaceydragons, @-ohsolovely-, @survivingandenduring, @queenquazar, @alitaar, @dindjarinsslut, @avarkriss)

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin imagine #haunted hoedown #hauntedhoedown

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parrythisucasual · 6 months

Text

What About Me? Ch. 4

Sorry it took so long guys. Been working on asks and some personal things have been kicking me in the ass. I'm hoping to get most of my asks out today so I can focus on this fic a little more. As always, I love you guys and hope you enjoy!!

Gangle talked with you for hours, making you feel much more comfortable. You had some knowledge as to how this place worked, now. You knew who was who, how they acted, and the parameters of what is considered “inappropriate” and would get you in trouble.

Eventually, she stood up, stretching. You snorted to yourself, why would ribbons need stretching? She picked up her liners and whatever paper she hadn’t drawn on, “It’s pretty late, though,” she yawned, despite the fact feeling tired wasn’t digitally possible, “I’m going to head to bed.”

“Alright,” you agree, hopping out of bed to walk her to your door. You did this out of habit: every time your friends were leaving in the real world, you would accompany them to the door. She giggled as you walked her to the door.

“Madam,” you fake an accent, bowing as you opened it for her. Gangle only laughed harder, walking from the room, “Why, thank you!” You stand upright again, waving as she trotted up the hall, “See you tomorrow!”

She waved back, “Yeah, definitely!” and slipped into her own bedroom. You pause a moment, just in case she forgot something, but she didn’t pop back out. Almost instinctively, you look down the other side of the hall. A door closed rather suddenly, making you jump. You hadn’t heard or seen anyone coming, and Gangle didn’t say anything if she had.

The fact someone had been watching you didn’t frighten you. No, it was the fact they didn’t want to be seen that made you uneasy. Your eyebrows knit together, but you decide to man up and see who it was. You ignore the little voice in your head screaming at you this is how people die in horror movies!

“Can’t die here,” you mutter under your breath, reassuring yourself a tiny bit. Reaching the door, you stop in surprise; Jax’s door stared you down, his annoying smile present even in the image that adorned it.

You raised your fist, about to knock, but stopped suddenly. There was a shadow under the door, indicating that someone was standing relatively close to it. You chicken out immediately, dropping your arm and speedwalking back towards your room, slipping inside and closing the door as quietly as possible.

You place a hand on your chest, breathing deeply to calm your anxiety. You wander to your bed, falling face-first into it. You grunt, realizing that it was a lot more of a smack than you had thought it would be. People in fanfictions did it all the time, you just copied it.

You shake your head to clear it, wrapping yourself in your sheets and snuggling down. You didn’t feel like getting lost in another existential crisis today. You yawn, surprising yourself. Maybe it was to make everyone feel normal. Your eyes droop, and you soon find yourself drifting into a deep sleep.

You were awoken to a loud banging on your door. You jolt upright, eyes wide, confused and still half asleep. “Wake up, sleeping beauty, everyone else has been up for hours.”

You grumble, trudging to the door, your blanket still wrapped around you. You swing your door open, glaring at the one on the other side.

“Jax. Was waking me like that really worth making me jump out of my skin?” His grin only widened, “Absoluetly, it’s what i was goin’ for.” You roll your eyes and toss your blanket on the ground, “I’m awake now,” you grump, shoving past Jax roughly and heading up the hallway.

You ignore his blatantly, knowing very well he was following you. He had to rush a bit to catch up with you, but soon was walking beside you, beat for beat. “What was that for? You never been woken up by your parents or something?”

The only response you give is a rather sour expression. You wouldn’t even look at him, let alone speak. You swore you saw his face drop a bit, but he recovered quickly enough. “Didn’t you ever learn manners? You’re supposed to talk back, remember?”

Ignoring him once more, you round the corner to the main hall. You perk up immediately, seeing exactly who you were looking for. “Gangle! Ragartha!” you chirp, running over, leaving Jax in the dust.

“Oh, hey! You’re a lot happier than yesterday!” Ragatha smiles sweetly. “Oh, definitely. Gangle and I hung out all day!” Gangle giggled, “I was just telling her, actually!”

You noticed Jax hadn’t moved from where you left him. He was just… standing there, looking at the little group you’d formed. He honestly looked disappointed, or maybe sad, or even abandoned. That was it, abandoned. Something about his expression made regret nibble at your chest.

“Are you coming or not?” you call to him, hoping you wouldn’t regret it. But seeing him perk up, before playing it cool as he headed to you, you knew you weren’t going to. You can handle this guy.

“Heh, sure, if you want me that bad,” he stopped beside you, crossing his arms, “what’s up, dollface? Crybaby?” Alright, maybe a bit of regret. “Don’t call Gangle crybaby,” you snap. You didn’t say anything about Ragatha, knowing she could handle herself. Besides, she didn’t seem to care about her own nickname.

“(Y/N) was nice enough to ask for you to be here, are you seriously going to ruin it by being a jerk?” Jax lifts his hands in a gesture of mock surrender, “Alright, alright!” You see him glance at you, it’s quick but you notice it. Ragatha seems to have seen it as well, and backs down a bit, “Thought so,” she adds with a grin.

TAG LIST!!! (You can always ask to be added)

@dai-tsukki-desu

@luujjvi

@sangoqueenkoko

@shebsvers

@mikusboner

@exhonerd

@lunaramune

@oneiratxxia10

@softangxlicss

@c00kie-cat

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #jax x reader #jax #tadc jax #tadc x reader #tadc jax x reader #the amazing digital circus jax

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babydollmarauders · 1 year

Note

Baby au does she ever go through that clingy stage where all she wants is jack and nobody else can hold her?

omg okay idk if this was supposed to be a blurb or just a general question, so i’ll answer it both ways! she DEFINITELY does! el is such a daddy’s girl and y/n 100% blames it on how stingy jack is with her. but there was a good 6 month period where she literally didn’t want anything to do with anyone other than jack. which made it rough on poor y/n because when jack was on roadies or at practice or a game, el would be SO fussy.

———

Jack and i were on the couch, him horizontally, his back against the arm of the couch and his legs sprawled out along the cushions with me laying between them, my back against his chest. a movie plays on the tv but neither of us pay attention, rather doing our own things in our phones instead. he scrolls through instagram, liking his teammates and friends posts while i scroll through tiktok.

my daily tiktok break is interrupted by the sound of El crying from her crib, having awoken from her nap.

“i’ll get her.” i heave out a sigh, rolling myself over Jack’s leg and off the couch before standing up. Jack just nods, his eyes never leaving his phone, and i make my way over to my 11 month old’s room.

“hey sweetheart. mommy’s got you. mommy’s here.” i coo as i walk in. she stands in her crib, whining with tears welling in her eyes, but she shakes her head when i come closer.

“dada!” she screams as i scoop up under her armpits. i heave a deep exhale, very tired of this phase.

for the past two months, the only person El has wanted is Jack.

i pick her up? “dada!”

Luke picks her up? “dada!”

she’s mad if i’m feeding her instead of Jack. she cries when he’s not in her sight. he must be the one to get her when she wakes up in the middle of the night, in the morning, or from nap.

it’s made it incredibly hard for me since he’s not always here.

“dada!” i startle at the volume of her voice in my ear, fast-walking back to the living room. i stop at the edge of the couch, El’s whines still blaring in my ear.

Jack doesn’t seem phased, just holding an arm out so i can place her on his chest.

“take your shadow.” i grumble, laying her on his chest. she immediately quiets, putting her face in his face and smiling. “i think she ruptured my ear drum.”

Jack chuckles, shutting his phone off and setting it on the couch beside him. He grins at our daughter, picking her up by the hips and hovering her over his face.

“hey, El-Bell! you giving mama a hard time?” he coos, making her giggle.

“dada!” her tiny hands smack his cheeks, squishing and pulling at them.

“yeah? you just wanted daddy, huh?” he asks before smooching her cheeks repeatedly.

“yeah, that’s because, when you’re home, you never let her leave your sight.” i sigh, dropping on the couch by his feet.

“can you blame me? she’s my world. i hate leaving her.”

“nice to see where i rank.” i joke, making him chuckle.

“you’ll always be my love, my wife. but sorry, she’s stolen your previous number one spot in my heart.” he tells me. “not by much, you’re actually pretty tied, but i’m just saying if our apartment burned down, i would go for El first.”

“that’s okay, i wouldn’t expect any less.” i pat his foot, smiling at the sight before me. El sits in between his legs like i did mere minutes ago, playing with his hands. “besides, Luke would save me. at least i’m number one in his heart.”

“of course you are.” Jack tells me. “you baby him.”

“i do not!” i mock offense, holding a hand to my heart.

“LUKE!” he yells out.

“WHAT?” Luke calls back from his room.

“WHAT DID Y/N MAKE YOU FOR LUNCH YESTERDAY?” Jack asks.

“GRILLED CHEESE AND TOMATO SOUP AND A GRILLED CHICKEN BREAST!” Luke replies. Jack levels me with a stare.

“and i’ll bet you cut the crust off for him too.” he raises an eyebrow in questioning and my cheeks flush slightly.

“i plead the fifth.”

#el!hughes au #jack hughes x reader #ask faithlynn ✨

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streamingcolors-gvf · 7 months

Text

Skin Deep - Part 9 1/2

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!reader x Jake Kiszka

Word count: 6.3K

A/N: If you missed my post, I’m breaking this chapter up into 2 parts instead of waiting to do one long chapter because it’s been taking me so long to update. I am planning on posting the other half at the end of this week. (Also I apologize for any editing mistakes)

I’m feeding my Jake girls with this one!

As always, I appreciate all the love, support and feedback y’all give me ❤️

Warnings: cursing, tobacco use, sexually explicit content- 18+ MINORS DNI! (Unprotected penetrative sex)

Masterpost, Chapter 8

You’re awoken by the rumbling of distant thunder and the patter of heavy raindrops hitting his bedroom window. You stretch an arm over the soft ripples of his cotton sheets expecting to feel Josh lying beside you. There’s emptiness where he should be — only the residual warmth from his body left beneath your searching fingers.

Thinking he might be in the bathroom, you blindly take a pillow to hug close to your chest and fall back into your slumber. When you realize he hasn’t returned in some time, you finally decide to open your sleepy eyes. You rub them until your vision clears, seeing the gloomy blue haze casting the bedroom in darkness.

It could be early morning or close to noon with how the weather is making it difficult to tell what time it is. Looking around for your phone, you note that his is missing from the bedside table. You also notice the cracked window behind his dresser that’s allowing the sounds and smells of the morning storm to trickle in.

You find your phone tucked beneath your pillow, instantly squinting from the brightness assaulting your sensitive eyeballs. There is a message notification from Josh across your Home Screen from 4:29 am, and you quickly swipe to read and respond to it.

Your heart sinks, and disappointment settles in the pit of your stomach. The spot next to you feels colder now knowing he won’t be back. You were looking forward to waking up and spending time with him this morning. Accepting his shift in priorities, you put on a brave face and type another message back.

There’s a grin plastered across your face so wide it stretches from ear to ear while that bubbly, giddy feeling flutters wildly in your chest. But it’s barely past 5 a.m., and you need your rest.

Although falling back asleep is not as easy as you anticipated. You cocoon yourself in the pillowy duvet, only to toss and turn around in the large bed despite the peaceful lull of rain. To your dismay, it does little to calm your racing thoughts.

Your restlessness wins over your determination, so you decide to make the trip into the kitchen for a glass of water. It’s still early morning, and with the overcast, the hallway outside of their bedroom remains dark. Expecting silence, you’re shocked to hear the muffled sounds of the television coming from the living room.

You tiptoe quietly across the hardwood floors hoping to sneak by undetected. It’s been a few days since you’ve seen Jake and you’re unsure how to approach him, especially with how things were left on questionable terms. Once you reach the threshold, you peer around the corner of the wall to see him stretched along on the couch. Your stomach flips and twists until you realize that he’s asleep curled up with a quilted throw while a cooking show drones on in the background.

He’s positioned on his side and nestled into a large pillow that you can only assume was taken from his bed. You pause, questioning to yourself how he ended up here, fast asleep on the couch instead of in the comfort of his massive bed. Everything from the day you met him has felt controlled and restricted — showing you only what he wanted you to see.

Yet, at this very moment, he seems so fragile. You take in the sight of him, that innocence that’s rarely revealed. His long hair is swept back from his face, revealing a pierced ear that’s usually hidden by the dark tresses. With the blanket tucked beneath his chin, soft snores leave his parted mouth.

Taking the chance, you pad over to their kitchen and pull a clean glass from one of the cabinets. After filling it and making it halfway through the living room, you do a final check on Jake before walking back to Josh’s room.

You’re met with open eyes staring back at you.

You freeze in place with bare feet glued to the floor as if you’ve been caught red-handed. Guilt washes over and you brace for his anger, the surge of hostility that Josh once showed to you in his weakest moment. You wait for those harsh words thinking that he might not have as much patience for you, but there are none. The look he’s giving you is not a glare of resentment. It’s not even one of distaste or apathy. It’s vulnerable, perhaps one of defeat. Sadness tips his dark brows and pulls them together as his eyes take in your presence. You stand like this, imagining the thoughts behind those sullen irises, locked in his gaze with only the sounds of the television filling the space between you.

Without a single word spoken, he raises his arm to open the blanket. It’s a simple gesture, one to beckon you over to him. It’s like he’s hooked you with an invisible tether, drawing you in step by cautious step. You fall victim to him, placing your glass of water on the coffee table while he shimmies against the back of the couch to give you more room. You carefully crawl onto the cushion and slide in with your back against him. The second your bodies meet, the heaviness weighing between you dissipates.

When you finally settle into place, he drapes his arm across your stomach and pulls you in close, cocooning you in the heat from his body trapped beneath the quilt. He breathes in your scent and molds himself to you by slotting his leg between yours. The softness doesn’t end there. The comfortable jersey knit of his ratty t-shirt brushes against your skin as he hugs you.

These touches are different somehow. They’re affectionate as if he’s holding you this tight for desperate reassurance. You lay silent and perfectly still under his arm, feeling the tiny puffs of breath leaving his lips with the slow rise and fall of his chest against your back.

Thoughts race faster than they should, processing the fact you’re now cuddling with him. You have a million things you want to say, but none of them make the journey to your tongue.

“What are you watching?” You ask softly, your voice just barely loud enough to be heard over the sound of rain.

He hums with his face completely buried in your hair, “I dunno.” Sleep crackles in his low voice, “Jacques Pepin I think. He was making a lamb roast last time I checked.”

You focus on the famous French chef, admiring the nostalgic quality of the aged recordings. “Looks like chicken to me.”

Instead of responding, he shifts his body to change the position, moving you to your back so he can rest his head against your chest. He nestles into the crook of your neck and relaxes instantly, letting any anxiety he might have felt dissolve into your embrace.

“Why were you sleeping on the couch?”

He doesn’t even bother to lift his head. “Hmm?”

You clear your throat to repeat yourself, “Why are you out here and not in your bed?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbles, muffling the words into your shirt. “You know… I’ll never get tired of seeing you in my shirts.”

“Funny. I got this out of Josh’s dresser.”

“This is a high school soccer shirt. Only one of us played soccer, Dove.”

What other secrets do you have? You wonder, imagining a younger version of him — one without the tattoos running around on a field wearing this shirt.

Your fingers develop a mind of their own and start to explore the planes of his covered back. At first, he reacts to your curious touches as they become more deliberate. The faint brushes of your fingertips transform into light scratches of your nails. You draw changing patterns over valleys and ridges of his back until you make your way to his neck.

The cooking show becomes nothing more than background noise, voices lost in the calming sprays of heavy rain washing the back patio. You fall into that peaceful corner of your mind as you play with his hair, twirling those delicate strands of his chestnut locks. It’s when you lightly scratch his scalp that you hear those faint snores again.

You smile to yourself before taking the opportunity to feel across the underappreciated details. He doesn’t stir as you trace along the bridge of his nose, over his cheekbone to the shell of his ear, or even when you tuck the fallen hair behind it. After confirming that he’s fully asleep, you let them wander along his jawline and down the expanse of his neck.

Minutes go by, possibly an hour, interlocked like this until he makes another noise. Nearly drifting away yourself, you barely catch it. It’s not coherent, making you think he might be talking in his sleep. He hums again, but the gravelly sound stays trapped inside his throat.

You then feel the heavy throb of his cock against your thigh. It’s slow, but steady, growing with the sluggish pace of his resting heartbeat. You’ve been more than content ditching anything sexual with him this morning, but it’s becoming obvious how much you both needed each other like this.

You try your best to ignore it, but as it becomes harder with each passing minute, it drives away any innocent thoughts farther from your mind. And with that presence, a familiar ache begins to build in your core, causing you to squirm against him.

He responds by clutching you tighter around the waist. You pause thinking he’s now awake, but the rumbling of his snoring continues. “Jake,” you whisper with a gentle nudge to his shoulder. The only answer you get in return is a drowsy groan that vibrates against your skin beneath his chest. He remains quite stubborn even with his erection beckoning him from his dream state.

Before you can repeat his name, he rocks his hips into you. The lazy movement doesn’t follow a set rhythm, only serving the purpose of finding friction. You question whether he realizes that he’s driving his covered cock against your inner thigh. “Jake.”

The thin fabric of your cotton briefs and his sweatpants doesn’t provide much of a barrier between you. His breathing starts to change, sleepy sighs evolve into steamy pants. Their heat is tacky on your chest, making your t-shirt cling to your skin beneath his mouth.

The feeling of his hard cock pressing against you saturates your senses — persuading you. In an act of shameless need, you rake your nails across his back and grind yourself against him, whining loud enough for him to hear, “Jake!”

“Shh,” he shushes as he slides his hand from under your back and brings it to your hip. His thumb massages the path of skin above the band of your panties before his fingers slip under the hem of your shirt. You writhe from the contrast of the cool air and the warmth of his fingertips dancing up your body.

They circle your breast, ghosting over your already hardening nipple. Even in his current state, he can’t resist teasing you. You wish that you could reach between his legs and return the favor, but the couch does nothing but restrict you, causing your impatience to take over. “Let’s go to your room.”

He shakes his head, dragging the tip of his nose across your chest with the rasp of his voice following, “No.”

While his answer surprises you, he doesn’t deny you. A familiar path is taken from your breasts up along your neck by his mouth, feeling as though he’s everywhere, yet nowhere. You give yourself to him as the heat of his weighted breaths wrap around your flesh once he passes the collar of your shirt. The prickle of his stubble grazes your throat with every sweep of his lips. You swallow harshly, anticipating those playful nips of his, only to be gifted with teasing flicks of his tongue.

Needing that hungry kiss on your lips, you search for his mouth that’s been busy spoiling your jawline. You hold his face, cheeks grasped firmly between your palms to tug him close. The contact is as electric as the flashes of lightning of the summer storm, causing desire to rumble in your chest like the distant thunder as his tongue slips effortlessly past your bottom lip. What was once a fading memory over the passing week, consumes your conscience within seconds. You can’t escape how forbidden he still feels — a temptation you thought you had become strong enough to abstain from.

You’re tossing your sobriety out the window, to be lost and beaten underneath the heavy shower of raindrops. There’s something new this time — a neediness within the warmth. It’s almost as if he’s relinquished all control to you. There’s a tortured romanticism as you breathe in his scent, catching the lingering musk of his cologne in his sleep-tousled hair from the night before, the hints of the last cigarette he smoked, to the strong aroma of coffee that he must’ve sipped on hours ago.

He moves to be fully on top of you, allowing you to hitch both of your legs around his slender waist. It drives his covered cock harder against your core, making him groan into your parted mouth, “I need to have you now.”

With his weight balanced on his other arm, his hand leaves your breast and rushes down your side. You can’t see the clumsy movements, but you can feel him dive into his sweatpants without bothering to remove them. After finally freeing himself through a few deliberate strokes, he brushes over the soaked fabric covering your pussy to feel you shudder beneath him before hooking his fingers around your underwear and pulling it to the side.

“Jake,” you whine, thinking he might use this perfect opportunity to taunt you. But he’s as impatient as you and brings the head of his cock to your entrance. You’re already aching with need, and can’t help but lift your hips to guide him in.

In a barely controlled roll of his hips, he slips inside with ease. The sudden stretch of him makes you gasp in unison while his head falls into the crook of your neck. Breathy curses skitter across your flesh as he nudges himself against your cervix.

He’s only been inside you for mere seconds, but you wonder if you might lose yourself right here and now. You’re already writhing on top of the cushions, feeling and grabbing for any free part of him you can find.

A primal moan erupts in your throat while you crane your neck against the arm of the couch. He hears this, and lifts his head to bring his calloused fingertips to hold your chin as he instructs in a silken tone, “Look at me.”

Your attention snaps back enough to focus on his face hovering inches above you until your eyes meet those burnt-umber irises. The lust-blown pupils cast behind heavy lids admire you, floating down your features to linger on your lips before making their way back. The intensity of his gaze feels so intimate you’re pressured to look away. He licks his lips, asking, “Feel good?”

You nod, giving him a whimper as your only answer. A playful smirk forms on his face as time passes in silence while still buried deep inside you. “Good.”

The eye contact he has with you is unwavering, making you realize that this is the first time you’ve experienced this with him. There’s no smoke and mirrors this time — no makeup or fancy clothes or even late-night drunken implications to mask whatever this is. Even in the throes of your desires, that recurring guilt tries to resurface from the memory of those text messages with Josh exchanged barely an hour ago. Before your mind has the chance to pollute those thoughts, he sweeps his thumb across your bottom lip, tugging at it gently before continuing, “Listen to me, dove.” He pauses, flicking his eyes back and forth between yours. “I want you to think about me and only me right now. Can you do that for me, baby girl?”

“Mhm,” you whine as your brows furrow and your mouth drops. He’s barely moved aside from the slight rocking of his hips with just enough leverage to push your limit, causing you to flutter around him.

“I was beginning to worry that I would never feel you again,” he coos affectionately, sweeping the hair from your cheek to tuck behind your ear.

The small confession is disguised so well that you almost don’t catch it. You want to ask him what he meant by it, even to reassure him in some way, but the words fail to form.

He finally starts to move with purpose, finding a steady pace of deep and shallow strokes. Unlike before, there’s little power behind his thrusts. He’s not fucking you so hard you can’t think or remember your own name. Right now he wants you to think — predict his languid, gliding movements that are meant for you to feel. Feel how much you’ve soaked his cock within minutes, feel him brush against that not-so-hidden spot, feel how full he makes you. As tightly as you clutch onto him, you can’t bother to hold back the pitchy mewls and staggered breaths that break free.

He hums through his own sounds as he creates a trail of kisses toward your ear, whispering in a saccharine-sweet voice, “You love it when my cock worships you, don’t you?”

“Yes,” You admit in your cry, turning your cheek to him hoping to meet his lips. He stills with the heat of your shared breath providing a stark contrast to the crisp, chill air floating through the screen of the open sliding glass door.

“Did you miss me?” He mumbles against your lips as he withdraws himself to the very tip before sliding himself back in. You gasp, holding him close by the back of the neck.

He licks into your mouth with faint flicks of his tongue — soft and sweet. You kiss him back and squeeze your legs around his back, forcing him to stay deep inside. He responds by taking your hand, lifting it to rest against your head, and slotting his fingers between yours. “You know I want to spoil you, right?”

While your mind reels, he doesn’t wait for your answer before squeezing his fingers around yours. “I’m going to keep my promise,” he whispers, his mouth abandoning your lips in the search for the shell of your ear. “No one else will compare to me.”

It’s no surprise how he’s making you feel. He’s done it before, getting you drunk off his cock. He knows it given that little smirk pressing against your cheek. You lay here panting yearning for that divine release. It’s powerful enough to make you squirm and pull your hand away from his. He releases it without protest, watching as you bring your fingertips to your lips.

After glazing them with a coating of your own spit, you drop them between your legs. His eyes fall with your hand, mesmerized as you circle your swollen clit. “That’s it. Touch yourself for me, dove.”

He repositions and quickly finds a rhythm that matches yours. Even though your underwear hinders your movements a bit, you’re so close it doesn’t matter. As you near the cliff’s edge, your focus blurs. You try to watch him anyway, determined to study the changing expressions on his face, how he’s lifting his shirt enough for you to see the patch of hair leading to his navel or the way his sweatpants rest on his tattooed thighs.

He’s having a hard time choosing where to look, ultimately settling on your fingers and himself as he fucks you. Now that it’s threatening to pull you under, you’re desperate to savor the feeling of him. It’s something you won’t be able to replicate on your own no matter how many expensive toys you purchase. It’s him. The intoxicating warmth of his body, and luxury-velvet touch of his cock, the heavy pulse of his heartbeat, the grasp of his calloused fingers around the back of your legs. It doesn’t take him long to notice that you’ve slowed and lifted your fingers. He tells you in a shuddered breath, “Go ahead. Make yourself cum around my cock.”

Hearing him say the words is all it takes to convince you. Looking directly at him, you touch your clit again, making yourself jolt at the feeling. He smiles, praising you, “You’re doing so good for me.”

The roll of his hips slows, giving you full control of your orgasm for the first time. He wants you to be the one to take the plunge into your release. “I’m s-so close,” you whimper.

“I know, baby. I can feel you,” he rushes out, giving away that he’s there alongside you. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

Facing him, staring right into the depths of his eyes is an entirely different experience. A closeness, an intensity to an unmatched level. It scares you but excites you in the best way. Another facet of pushing you out of your comfort zone without you even realizing it.

You come undone within seconds, clenching around his cock so tight he stops moving altogether. A violent cry leaves your strained lungs, making you thankful the rain drowns out your sound. He falls forward, keeping your legs hooked around his hips.

“You make me lose my fucking mind,” he whispers into your hair, so faint you question if you were supposed to hear it at all. His thrusts become weak and shaky as if he’s edging his own release.

You slip your fingers into his tangled mane, holding the back of his neck. “Please. I need it.”

“Say it again.”

“Jake, baby. Please,” you plea against his exposed ear, voice scratchy with unabashed desperation. It sounds innocent, so delicate, like the fluttering wings of a songbird.

You swear you hear him whimper, but you doubt yourself and think you imagined it. He quickly nips at your skin before sinking his cock to the hilt inside you. Incoherent curses leave his mouth, showering your skin like tender kisses. You hold him tight as his cum fills you with every spasm.

He doesn’t move for several minutes, but you don’t argue. You keep him close, letting him soften while his release starts to drip from you. It’s comforting to have him lay with you, like a weighted blanket. You want him to say something, but a part of you believes he needs the silence. You feel across his back, realizing how sweaty he’s become now that his shirt clings to his skin.

He eventually with you, causing your underwear to slide back into place. He’s careful moving around your legs as he sits and settles against the back of the couch. Annoyed with it, he pulls his t-shirt over his head and tosses it onto the floor. For a second, you feel tempted to trace the cloaked figure covering his back.

Without saying a word, he reaches forward, pulling up the band of his sweatpants over his ass as he snags the blue pack of cigarettes off the coffee table. You watch as he flips the top with his thumb and pulls one out between his lips before tossing the pack back onto the table. He shuffles over to the sliding glass door and pushes open the screen enough to step out.

Standing against the doorframe to avoid getting rained on, he digs a lighter out from the deep pocket of his sweats. He lights the end of his cigarette and pulls a long drag — an action that’s so fluid it's become second nature. With so much unsaid, everything feels as though it's moving in slow motion. Each passing second is an eternity, a daily routine that neither one of you would have batted an eye out.

But this silence isn’t deafening. Tension isn’t living in his shoulders. Looking at him, you can tell that his posture is relaxed as he blows out each smoky exhale into the outside world — and he’s never looked more attractive to you than he does right now.

Josh is a bright summer day, memories filled with youthful promises and laughter that makes your side hurt. Jake is your impending storm, frightening and hauntingly beautiful. You should look away, and run while you can, but you find yourself caught in the center of it. You’ve experienced enough to see there’s torment behind his eyes, pain sewn within his soul. It makes you ache, questioning why it exists when his other half beams with light. But with the wrath of any storm, there’s a moment of serenity that follows.

You look at him leaning up against the doorframe, lost in the thoughts that he’ll never share with you. You’re never going to be one to complain about seeing the collection of his tattoos. Inside your mind, you gush about how the gloomy lighting looks on his inked skin, the way those worn sweatpants hang low on hip bones, how his knotted hair still manages to look beautiful tucked behind his ears — an image you make sure to paint into memory.

You suddenly stand to your feet and stretch out the stiff muscles while wrapping the quilted throw around yourself to keep warm from the incoming draft. He glances at you, espresso-dark eyes rich with intrigue. You would normally fight it back, but you reveal the smirk trying to show through as you make your way over. His eyes narrow and a brow lifts, but a smile forms the closer you get. You stand before him, holding that smitten gaze up at him for far longer than you planned.

You reach your hand out from an opening in the blanket, silently asking for a drag to which he shakes his head and clicks his tongue at you, “Smoking is very bad for you, dove.” You immediately pout, making him flash a cheeky smile and put on the corniest British accent, “A foul, retched habit, really.”

Defeated, you cast your eyes to the soaked wood of the deck and mutter under your breath, “Josh lets me.”

He just chuckles, luring your attention back to him. You can see the gears turn in his head as he licks across his bottom lip and flicks the filter aggressively with his thumb before taking another drag just to rub it in. He responds to you through the blown smoke from the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, well, he’s soft for you.”

You would question what he meant by that, but you know better than to pry. Doubting he would even answer you, you hug yourself, pulling the blanket tighter around your body, and huff, “And you’re what? An impenetrable fortress of mystery?”

A devilish smile flashes in an instant. He peers down at you as he brings the filter to his lips once more instead of firing back at your quippy remark with one of his own. You decide to risk the consequences, plucking the half-burned cigarette from his loose fingers.

Thinking the bratty move would ignite that darkness in him, you’re surprised to see his expression staying soft. The glimmer in his eyes distracts you so much that you almost forget about the stolen cigarette.

You couldn’t care less about the nauseous rush of nicotine, or the harsh taste of smoke now filling your lungs. You’re only doing it to feel close to him again, knowing that his perfect lips wrapped around the same paper seconds before you. His eyes never leave you, making you blush and close the last inches of distance. You finally give the cigarette back by placing it back inside his mouth. He gladly accepts, melting into your touch with a rumbling groan as you wrap your arms around his bare waist.

You nuzzle into the warmth of his chest and listen to the rain, wishing that you could stay in this moment forever. On the surface, you try to convince yourself that this is just the rush of endorphins flooding your brain. It’s the contact post-sex that’s making you feel this way. Deep down, however, you’re just not ready to admit to yourself that this could be something more with Jake. That you’ll yearn for the way his fingers are rubbing circles on the small of your back for days to come. After a few minutes of peace, he ends the silence with a cough to clear his throat. “We should finish that leg piece today. You never scheduled your follow-up, by the way.”

“Today? I thought the shop was closed on Sundays.”

“It is. That’s why I think it will be a perfect day for it.” He stretches, breaking the embrace to toss the butt of his cigarette into the old planter sitting outside the door. “Just you and I.” Once he notices your hesitation, he drops his smile. “Do you have work?”

“No, but I really wasn’t expecting to get tattooed today.”

His eyes drop as he taps the center of your chest even though you’re still wearing his t-shirt. “This one wasn’t planned.” Just when you open your mouth to explain, he interrupts the thought by dragging his fingers up your throat before wrapping them around it. He holds you and leans in, placing a kiss on your cheek. “I just don’t think I can go another day seeing mine unfinished.”

“I dunno...” you trail off, tickled by the warmth of his breath.

His lips brush against your skin with every word. “I’ll take care of you, okay? I’ll pick you up a nice meal — your choice. Get you nice and hydrated. I think I have some numbing cream from my last convention you can use.”

You giggle at the thought, fitting right into the perfect space between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in like he’s fresh laundry right out of the dryer. “Numbing cream? Isn’t that cheating?”

He hums to the feeling of you kissing his throat. “If it meant that you would proudly wear my work, then I’ll buy you all the numbing cream you want, my dove.”

Your heart flutters from his words — the generosity. “You really want to spend the day with me? Aren’t you tired of me yet?”

“I think that’s the silliest thing you’ve asked me yet. Of course, I want to spend the day with you.”

As you start to break away, he hooks your arm to pull you back. “Hey.” He hesitates for a second like the thought has been weighing on him for a while. “Why did you leave your dress here the other day?”

“Oh… I guess I didn’t want to shove it in the backseat of Josh’s car.” You make a face that is akin to a grimace, one that he catches onto instantly, causing him to laugh and shake his head.

“Okay, that’s fair,” he admits with a throaty laugh, following you as you walk into the hall and back to the bedrooms. You stop in front of his room, letting him enter first. He calls over his shoulder and points to his closet, “Did you want to wear it today?”

“I think comfier clothes might be my first choice.”

He nods, redirecting to his dresser to pull out a pair of black sweatpants and a new t-shirt for you. “Here.”

“I’m gonna have to bring back a basket of laundry from all the clothes you guys give me,” you joke, taking the clothing from his outstretched hand. If it was anyone else but him, you would be determined to think that these were the actions of a loving boyfriend.

“That’s because they look better on you than they do on us.”

You change easily, slipping on the stretchy, loose-fitting outfit in preparation for what’s waiting for you. It gives you the chance to watch him get dressed while perched comfortably on his bed. His choice is a white tee that has a distressed collar that shows his tattooed arms and a pair of blue jeans that have been mended by several hand-sewn patches.

He takes a hairbrush through his tangles and gives himself a few sprays of cologne from one of the fancy bottles sitting on his dresser. When he leaves the room to brush his teeth and use the bathroom, you hop off his bed to find your phone in Josh’s room to send him a quick message that you’ll be spending the day with Jake.

You hear the bathroom door open, alerting you that it’s open for you to quickly refresh. After ditching your underwear and cleaning yourself up, doing the usual morning routine of brushing your teeth and fixing your hair, you’re met with Jake waiting for you in the living room.

“Ready?” He asks, gesturing to the side door of the house. You nod, following him through the kitchen.

Sitting in the garage is Jake’s car — a vintage one. A prized possession protected from the outside elements: It’s a make and model you don’t recognize, but you can appreciate its value nonetheless.

Its sleek black paint is obviously treasured, polished, and waxed to perfection. Sitting next to it is his motorcycle, hidden beneath its black cover.

“Wow,” you breathe in awe as if you’re scared to approach the thing.

“She’s pretty, right?” He coos with pride as he steps toward the driver’s side door.

Dumbfounded, you ask a question that might embarrass yourself. “What is it?”

He chuckles, popping open the metal door handle. “‘67 Camaro.”

He tosses his stuff into the backseat as he slides into his own behind the large steering wheel. You open your door and pause once you see what the interior looks like. It’s pristine, restored to its former glory days from decades ago. “I’m afraid to get in this thing, Jake. What if I ruin something?”

He tips his head, lifts a brow at you, and asks in a low pointed voice, “Do I need to make you?” The dominance in the question makes you clench your thighs together. He then pats the seat, ushering you to get in.

You carefully lower yourself, mindful not to scratch or ding anything in the process. Your nose is hit with the scent of aged leather of the black upholstery, the product he used to condition it, and the faint line of the air freshener.

It’s so unequivocally him.

“Is anything about you practical?” You scoff, settling into the seat as you buckle yourself in.

He reaches up and clicks a button on a plastic device clipped to his visor, making the garage door open. Looking at you with his most charming smile, he grips the ball of the shifter and gives it a little wiggle, “Would you expect anything to be?”

“No. No, I guess not.”

Thankful that the rain has finally subsided to a misty drizzle, you scurry behind Jake as he unlocks the shop’s back door. After you both shrug off damp jackets and hang them in the lockers, he makes his way into the hallway.

The old building is dark and eerily quiet until he starts flipping on lights leading up the stairwell. You feel comfortable letting him lead the way despite the fact you’re becoming well acquainted with the place.

You set your bag of food and stuff on the coffee table and make yourself comfortable on the studded leather couch that already holds many memories for you. Instead of going directly to his station, he walks over to the turntable and record collection that you assumed was more for decoration than anything. He flips through the plastic milk crate for a minute until he pulls out a black sleeve you recognize as The Dark Side of the Moon by Pink Floyd.

You sit quietly, watching how he carefully slides the old vinyl out and places it down. The hushed scratch of the needle fills the room before the song “Breathe” begins to play. He turns to face you and extends an open hand, telling you, “C’mere.”

Your feet carry you over to him before your brain catches up to what’s happening. He takes your hand in his and wraps his other around the small of your back, bringing you in close against his body. Waiting seconds, the slow, sleepy tempo of the drums, and the sultry whine of the guitar echo throughout the studio. You rest your cheek on his shoulder and start to sway with him in the middle of the floor.

Breathe, breathe in the air.

Don’t be afraid to care

Leave, but don’t leave me

Look around and choose your own ground

You listen to the dystopian vocals with him, appreciating the raw, unfiltered beauty of this moment. It’s clear that the dance isn’t about the coordination of your steps, it’s to hold you close to him. It makes you wish things weren’t as complicated as they are. He’s finally opening that book, giving you a glimpse of a page and all you can do is bury your face into him.

The first time you came here, bright-eyed and anxious as hell, you would’ve never believed that you would be standing on the second floor of this tattoo shop with him. You don’t want to forget this. The soothing heat of his body, the woodsy scent of his cologne on his clothing, the strength of his grasp as he holds your hand. His thumb absentmindedly brushes over your knuckles and his hand holding your waist tightens.

The song ends and starts playing into the next, making him stop. “Ready to finish your tattoo?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Remember I am posted the second half of this later this week!

TAGLIST:

@gretavanbitches @dannyandthekiszkas @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @asparrowofthedawn @ageofnations @welightthefire @garbagevanfleet @lvnterninthenight @pennylanefics @writingcold @alexxavicry @gvfficrecs @jakeyboiiiiiii @doodle417 @richjaaasss @pr41sethemoon @gretavanflowerpowerrr @joshskittytickler @jakekiszkasbabymama @tripthelightfatality @maddie-van-fleet @sarakay-gvf @josiee-gvf @milkgemini @sammiejane22 @gretavanbear @capturethechaos @welllauragvf @averagemisfit03 @myownparadise96 @givemeyourtots2 @gretavangroove @autopsy-im-ill l @objectsinspvce @myownparadise96 @feilores @josh-iamyour-mama a @givemeyourtots2 @joshkiszkasbigtoe @lightmylove-gvf @mydarlingdanny @shutupdevvie @twinszka @busybeingtrash @carlybubs @demonrat444 @high-fidelity1

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drunkenlionwrites · 6 months

Note

Hey!! ❤️❤️❤️

I was thinking about Syzoth's request, because I thought about something like the pregnant reader and Syzoth's fears of losing another family or replacing the one he lost.

Syzoth's frustration when he found out and how overprotective he would be.

I love reading your stories ☺️

Hi hi nonnie! Thank you for the idea. You've been first to ask, and I am happy to oblige. It was fun to write after not writing any drabbles for some time. 💖💖 Warnings: a bit of angst, diluted by fluff, fem-bodied but g/n reader, ptsd, mentions of Syzoth's deceased family.

You’ve been noticing the changes in Syzoth’s behavior for quite some time. Where he has been cautious – he became anxious. Where he has been protective – he became overbearing. Sometimes it ended in him viciously glaring at anyone who approached you or occupied your attention for a bit longer than needed in his opinion, which was the opposite of what you would’ve expected of him – a forever approachable friend of all. He shrugged off your concerns when you raised any, but you couldn’t stop observing how anxious he became with anything concerning you specifically as Syzoth’s never been as tense overprotective mere months ago. Even now, lying beside you in the safety of your shared bed his face is marred with a deep frown, his brows frequently twitching.

Rolling over, you press your index finger to his forehead in between the brows and gently stoke it up and down, trying to soothe your lover without waking him up. It seemed to work since the expression on his face softened at least to a degree.

What is going on in that worrisome head of yours, m? You murmured to yourself, continuing to look over your Zaterran as he was deep in a now peaceful sleep. Stopping your movements, you lay your head onto his chest and close your eyes, deciding to go back into slumber, listening to his slow and steady heartbeat. You feel the man shift and both of his arms are sliding up your body to press you even closer to him.

‘T's nice to feel you’re here with me’ he half whispers, making you raise your head to face him. ‘Bad dreams?’ you inquire carefully. It makes him stiffen a bit, but he sighs with a reply ‘Not that bad. Just…reminders for me to be more cautious’ You can’t stop yourself from huffing at this. ‘More cautious? You are practically a walking security camera lately. Syzoth, is…is something burdening you? You know I am here to share your burdens? You can tell me. Please…I’ve been worried about you’ Squeezing you gently, he presses his lips to the crown of your head, his hands roaming up and down your upper body to comfort both you and him, most likely.

‘Well…it would be silly of me to deny this forever, but to be honest, I am scared, my love.’ Clearing his throat, he continues: ‘Sometimes…I…do see the demise of my former spouse and child brought by Shang Tsung. And it was me who failed them. It was me, who underestimated the threat which Shang Tsung posed, it was me who failed to secure my family in the first hand and me again, who failed to save them in the end…’ You want to interrupt his self-loathsome speech, yet at the same time you stop yourself and silently listen out what makes your lover be so on edge.

‘This time I can’t let this happen. I’ll be stronger, I’ll be more vigilant. I’ll be vicious when needed…but you both…that is…I mean, us both. We will be safe. Even if it means skipping on some sleep or losing a few skittish friends. You are what is important.” His voice is quiet and raspier after being just awoken, but you clearly detect all the pain and fear he’s still carrying inside, even when he tries to hide the extent of it by speaking slowly and breathing steadily. You nuzzle into his neck, your own arms sneaking under to hug him closer to you and he eases into your touch.

‘You know it’s not your fault, Syzoth? I’ll tell you this again and again, even if you don’t really want to believe in it. And if something happens to me, it won’t be your fault either.

You’re not an all-powerful God to save people from the vile threats this world throws at us. You’re not to be blamed for what that shithead did to your family. You’re just as much of a victim as they were. ‘I won’t be anymore.’ He hisses and you shrug from the sudden loudness of his voice and the way his arms lock around you tighter, almost painful. ‘I won’t be. And no one will dare to even try to hurt you. And if they try, they will see and feel all the ways in which a furious Zaterran can tear their flesh apart.’

‘Hey…hey, can you look at me?’ You tilt your head upwards and a pair of swamp greens meet your gaze. Your palm cups his cheek as you say: ‘I am sure you’re more than capable of defending yourself and me from anyone. You are stronger now. You’ve lived through a lot since then. You’ve practiced a lot. And of course, we all are more cautious now after the invasion threat has been revealed. Please, love…can you promise me to stop being so hard on yourself? You deserve to feel safe and calm from time to time. You know, you actually hurt me by not thinking I am capable enough to protect myself and you, too.’ You pout playfully as you say that that to relieve the tension of the serious late-night confessions. ‘I’m not Ashra level of strong, but I am strong. I was selected to fight in a Tornament back then before we met.’ You flick his nose gently, which earns you a small chuckle. At last.

‘Oh, believe me, I do know just how vicious my little human can be. Doesn’t mean I’m going to stop worrying for your safety. Especially, not now.’ He drops.

‘What do you mean? Not now?’ It earns you a grumble, and Syzoth inquisitively looks into your eyes as if waiting for an immediate response. Not getting any, besides the confused expression on your face, he continues to gently nug you: ‘I still cannot grasp the extent of human obliviousness sometimes. How has your species even survived for such a long time? Can’t you tell, my love? You are with our child. And has been for…mmm around half a moon. I was assuming you at least suspected it…’ Each word hits you like a truck till Syzoth stops his silly little speech about the depths of human intellect and all you can hit him back with is…’WAIT, WHAT?’

#lion writes #mk1 headcanons #mk1 syzoth #syzoth x reader #syzoth x you #Syzoth headcanons #mk1 x reader #mk1 x you #syzoth fluff #reptile x reader #reptile x you #reptile fluff #syzoth

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shirefantasies · 1 month

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the fellowship and how they would comfort you after a nightmare

Sure thing! This is such a cute idea I love it 🥺 no detail is given about the nature of the nightmare, so it’s pretty fluffy & open to interpretation 🥰

How The Fellowship Comforts You After a Nightmare

Aragorn

A pair of hands catch you about the waist. “Careful, beloved, you almost fell,” a deep voice whispers. Aragorn. You start despite the comforting voice, and he notices. Fixing you with a look of concern, he nods encouragingly, letting you speak; you tell him it was a nightmare. “What happened?” He asks, and he listens with great interest as you describe what you saw, what your mind forced you to experience. “The night can be false,” he tells you, moving so close you can feel his breath upon your ear, “bringing forth our greatest fears. But I am here with you in its darkness.” Nodding, you give a small smile as he takes your hands. “Come here,” he beckons, and acquiescing he tucks you into him, your back against his chest and his arm draped over you protectively.

Legolas

“Come." You hear Legolas before you see him, feel the way he reaches for you. Fingers intertwine with yours and shakily you reciprocate the grip. He raises you gently to a seated position, holding you lightly about the waist as you rotate in tandem. You’re facing the window, you realize, looking out into the night. “The stars,” Legolas breathes, “ever have they provided us with hope and comfort. They are looking out for us.” Mystic as his words are, you cannot help but admit that focusing on the distant, twinkling lights is calming, especially in Legolas’s arms. Silently, you nod. Legolas peers down at you thoughtfully before speaking again, pointing out stars and constellations until you are lulled into a much more peaceful sleep.

Boromir

A tear slides down your cheek, but before the lines to reality are fully crossed you feel a hand caress you, wipe the droplet gently. “What ever is the matter?” A voice you would recognize anywhere: Boromir. Before you can speak you’re latching onto him. Stroking the crown of your head, he questions again, this time asking if you are all right. “I will be,” you answer shakily. His lips fall to yours, firmly but with a sense of care, of loving. “Good. You have me until then, and, I’m afraid, long after that, too,” he jokes, pulling you closer. “That means more than you could ever know,” you mutter, nuzzling into his neck and giving in when he shifts to his back, your body draped over his like a warm blanket.

Gimli

Gasping and shooting upward, you are met with a shout that has you exclaiming as well, heart thundering in your chest. Suddenly, looking as though he’s been slapped, Gimli reaches for your hand, taking it in both of his. “Whatever is the matter, my jewel?” You cannot help cracking a feeble smile at his words of endearment even through the involuntary terror you’d awoken to. You apologize, tell him a nightmare had taken you. “Not if I have anything to say about it!” Gimli retorts. “Does it realize who it is up against?” Cue your beloved dwarf highlighting every amazing thing about you, from your beauty to your fighting spirit to simply poetry, all the wonderful things in this world you remind him of. “So if some dream thinks it can take you, it is sorely mistaken,” he concludes, looking satisfied at the upward tug of your lips, the bashful way your head falls against his chest.

Frodo

Stirs with immediate knowledge and understanding of what you are going through, having experienced it many times himself. No words are necessary, only the small, sad nod you share. Frodo's hand immediately trails up and down your arm, spreading grounding warmth across your skin. Your head falls back against his chest in defeat and with a deep breath, he pulls you flush against him, lips pressing against the crown of your head. Frodo never demands words, but listens with deep thoughtfulness if you wish to volunteer them and even shares any similarities in his so you know you are not alone. Especially if any of them embody your worst intrusive thoughts, the hardest things to share aloud. He only feels comfortable sharing the events of his own nightmares because of this dark bond you share, but seeing your face and feeling the caress of your hand upon his cheek is all it takes to cast a light back into his eyes, one that sparks the same for you.

Sam

Sam’s hold upon you is the first awareness you achieve as you are thrust back into reality, your eyelashes fluttering as you make out his form. The moment tension fades from your body, he’s pulling you into him, rocking you gently and running his hand through or over your hair. “Sam, I’m sorry -” “Shhh,” he soothes, smiling gently, almost tearfully, “there’s no need. There’s no need at all. Let’s just stay here.” At your nod, he rests his chin atop your head and tucks your bodies as close into each other as possible, limbs fitting together like puzzle pieces. The last sensation you remember before drifting off to sleep is Sam’s lips lightly pressed against your cheek.

Merry

A gasp alerts Merry to your plight, sending him shooting up into a seated position, looking around the room with concern before his eyes fall sympathetically to you. “Bad dream?” His voice is quiet, hoarse from lack of use. You just nod. “Well that won’t do,” he shoots back, sitting up further and extending a hand. Shakily you take it and are pulled up at his side, an arm slung around your shoulders. “In the Brandybuck household, bad dreams mean storytime,” he tells you with a growing smile, “so your choice. Family legend or embarrassing Pippin story?” You feel your lips curling upward, visions of your nightmare already fading. “Embarrassing Pippin story.” “Great choice! So this one time…well, we’d had one too many tankards, I’ll confess, but I was well until Pippin…”

Pippin

Does not wake up at your first stirring, but as you shift you feel his body move alongside you, turning to face your way. “Are you all right?" He whispers when you fall into his gaze, distress clear upon your face that you both feel and see mirrored in his. “Nightmare,” is all you have to whisper before you’re wrapped up completely in Pippin’s embrace, his legs tangling with yours as his arms wind around you. A smile breaks through on your face when you feel him nuzzle into you with his nose, leading you to snuggle in closer against his soft curls. “I’m always going to be here for you,” you hear him whisper, feel his warm breath as he speaks, “always.”

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @joonies-word @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia | Reply/Ask/Message to join!

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr imagines #lotr x reader #the fellowship of the ring #aragorn #legolas #boromir #gimli #frodo #sam #merry #pippin #ask #anon #requested

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northsoulss · 1 year

Text

warmth from the moon and sun

pairing : ronal x tonowari x gn!reader

inspired by this! -> (a massive thank you to this author btw i got inspired to write again after reading this)

content warnings : mainly fluff, slightly suggestive in one of the last paragraphs, no use of y/n (replaced with “___” instead), brief descriptions of the reader’s body but nothing to obvious to suggest anything from it.

synopsis : tonowari is the sun, ronal the moon. that leaves you to be the ocean’s tides, pulled by the moon, warmed by the sun, providing life and love to all those who allow it.

a/n : this is my first fic for ATWOW so i hope its okay </3 - also, please let me know if i missed any warnings to this, i’ll be sure to add it!

the morning sun shone through the entrance of your mauri, the brightness casting a pleasant warmth on your face. it was a morning like any other, where you would wake up before both tonowari and ronal, taking some time for yourself before going to attend to your duties. you have learnt to treasure these rare times of momentary peace, hearing the waves crashing outside, hearing the soft snores coming from tonowari and the swallow breaths from ronal.

you sat up looking down at both of your lovers, watching their relaxed features as they continue to sleep. times like this were precious, for you all were important na’vi to the clan and the price of that unfortunately was the lack of quiet moments with just the three of you.

you move over to tuck a strand of hair that has fallen over ronal’s eyes behind her ears, the movement causing her to stir slightly in her sleep. you froze immediately, afraid to disturb tranquility that has settled amongst you all. thankfully, she grumbles something under her breath and turns the other way, soft breaths continuing to fill the air.

tonowari on the other hand is still dead asleep, his snoring proving to you how deep he was in dreamland. sighing and watching fondly, a small smile creeps onto your face seeing him slowly pat the area around him, trying to find where you where. his nose was scrunched up and his eyebrows bunched, a sharp exhale leaving his mouth in frustration finding out that your side was cold. you grasp onto his hand, feeling his fingers wrap around yours instantly. unbeknownst to you, your tail started to thump lightly on the mat they were lying on, causing him to twitch and jolt up.

“___? why is the floor vibrating?” his voice husky and clearly very groggy, his eyes squinted trying to adjust to the morning light. a loud cat-like yawn escapes his mouth, his chapped lips pressed into a thin line expecting an explanation.

“huh? um,” you turn around to find the source only see it was your tail and you immediately slap your hand onto it, trying your best to muffle a bit of the sound.

“sorry,” you say sheepishly, smoothening the loose hairs that framed his face. he stares at you with a half-lidded gaze, looking like he’s contemplating between falling back asleep or pulling you down with him. he ends up doing the latter, causing a small squeak to escape from your lips. he wraps his forearms around your waist, careful to not bump into ronal in fear of disturbing her.

nevertheless, your plans to let ronal sleep for a while more were foiled when you heard a low groan beside you. well, so much for trying not to wake her up.

“i was wondering why there was so much shuffling and noises, but i see that you two are the culprits here.” her hair was a dishevelled mess, with a bit of dried up drool on the corner of her mouth — it took every ounce of control in you to not laugh at how adorable she looks. she points a finger at you and tonowari, a pointed gaze lingering on her scrunched up face.

“r-ronal, yawne. (beloved) forgive me for i have awoken the tsahik from her slumber. i shall not do it again.” you say with a barely concealed laugh, even going so far as to clasp your hands together in a praying motion as if to beg for forgiveness.

she looked at you with pure disdain in her eyes, and yet the corners of her lips curled up slowly. “well, apology not accepted.” she proceeds to poke your sides, turning you into a laughing mess. in the midst of trying to catch your breath again, you do not see the fondness in their eyes, the warm smiles that spread on their lips that are only reserved for times like this.

“h-hey! that’s not very fair.” you gasp out, a giggle escaping your lips still feeling her phantom touch to your sides.

“you woke me up. of course it is fair.” ronal immediately counters, leaving you with no words to say, only wide eyes and lowered ears.

watching this whole interaction, tonowari chuckles watching the banter between his two mates, his tail reaching over to rest on ronal’s lower back while his hands remain on the dips on your waist.

“enough you two, is this how village leaders behave?” he throws a side-eye at you two and shakes his head, another small laugh escaping his lips. this was usually how it goes, you and ronal would “argue”, and tonowari would be the mediator, though he wasn’t the best at it (he’s actually wonderful at mediating when the time calls for it, but for his mates, he loves to be playful), usually only adding fuel to the growing fire.

“oh shush, you were the one who dragged me down first.” you smack his chest lightly, earning a small “ow” and a scandalised look from him. ronal looks at you at nods her head approvingly, leaning over to caress your face gently. taking her hand, you press feather-light kisses to her palm, leading up to each one of her fingers, before finally giving her a big kiss on the back of her hand.

times like this made you wish you led a simpler life, with no pressing troubles to deal with, only having to worry if the mats and baskets of your shared home have started to fray. however, your train of thought was soon interrupted by tonowari clearing his throat, a slight frown plastered on his lips.

you only smiled at him for wanting attention as well, giving him lingering kisses on either side on his temples and one on the bridge of his nose. you hear him release a content sigh, and your smile becomes wider, seeing his eyes closed in bliss. “there! does that satisfy you, tìyawn?” (love)

“hmmm, not quite.” he then opens his eyes again, full of mirth and pretends to think before his lips meet yours, his touch sweet like honey. then he moves further down your jaw before you can get more, slowly making his way across the expanse of your neck. just as you were about to try and recover from his kiss, ronal’s lips now meet yours as tonowari’s still remain lovingly on your neck, sucking lightly at the delicate skin. he nuzzles into your neck and smiles against your skin, feeling goosebumps arise quickly. ronal’s lips move slowly against yours, a quiet whine escaping your throat in pleasure as she lets her fangs drag across your lower lip.

when she finally breaks away, she is satisfied with your dazed look and your swollen lips. she then gives you one final peck on the lips and to your hairline. her hands move to cup your face, causing you to lean into her slightly calloused hands. though one may wish for their lover to have soft hands, ronal’s was that of a tsahik’s, a reminder that she is so incredibly strong, and so loving at the same time. tonowari’s was no different, his calloused as well from the duties of a olo'eyktan, evidence of a gentle but firm lover.

tonowari removes himself from your neck, before sealing a kiss to ronal’s lips, one hand on the curve of your hips while the other resting on her cheek. when they pull apart, he presses wet kisses on her cheeks, laughter spilling out of her mouth at the ticklish feeling. her eyes curve up like crescents during eclipse, twinkling like the constellations in the sky.

you stare at them awestruck and full of admiration, and you could have sworn you felt butterflies flutter rapidly in your stomach even after all these years of being mated. watching them laugh and connect foreheads made you fall in love all over again, seeing tonowari’s crinkled eyes as he grins at ronal, an amused look remaining on her face as she looks at him, before looking at you.

the morning passed in a flash with you and your mates lying with each other, basking in the warmth of your bodies pressed together, and the distant sounds of the village and ocean merging into one.

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thethreeeyed-raven · 8 months

Note

HELLO CUTIE PIE 🤭😜💜, imma hit you up with a Prince Caspian Req 🤞🗣 Ben Barnes has been my obsession lately. Sooo, you know that scene when Caspian is attacked in the night, but he's already escaping? Ok, so what if he's sleeping with his wife when he's awoken, and refuses to leave without her. Maybe once they are out of the castle, a guard tries to get her and he is all just heroic and handsome and sexy and beautiful and daddy and saves her? PLEASE AND TY. CHANGE WHATEVER U WANT

new life

the kingdom of dreams | warnings : none? | a/n : i didn’t add the heroic part i’m sorry pookie i just cba😭 | tags : @knight-of-flowerss , @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom

Caspian and you slept soundly, unaware of the events which will occur.

He was amidst a dream, one he dreamt every night, when suddenly a cold hand clasped across his mouth, jolting him awake.

Caspian soon calmed once he realised who it was and rolled his eyes, about to turn on his side. "Five more minutes."

"You won't be watching the stars tonight, my prince. Come, we must hurry." The professor grabbed hold of Caspian's wrist and lifted him up.

"What about Y/n?" Panic laced his voice as he let the man drag him about his bedroom.

"You must leave your lady wife, my prince, we must get you out quickly."

"No!" Caspian pulled back his arm and moved to wake you.

"Y/n, you must wake. The soldiers are coming for us."

You were blissfully asleep, until you awoke to Caspian frantically shaking you.

"My love, what is going on?" You were a bit disoriented as your sleep was deep, but the panic in his eyes was what woke you fully.

"Caspian. What's going on." You said sternly.

"I-I don't-" He was interrupted by the professor.

"Your aunt, she's...she's had a son. Now come, through here." The man led you through a secret passageway through your wardrobe, wasting no time to make your way down the stairs into the armory room.

Caspian grabbed a sword and other protective gear.

Just because you were a woman doesn't mean that you weren't trained in at least one form of combat.

Caspian specialised in swords, but you were a skilled archer.

So you picked up a bow and arrow and you all made your way to the horses.

All of you had decided that it was too dangerous to take two horses, so you sat behind Caspian.

"You must make for the woods."

"The woods?" You questioned.

"They won't follow you there." The professor then pulled out a mysterious object. "It has taken me many years to find this, only use it when needed."

"Will we ever see you again?" Caspian's voice was full of hope, but you didn't have the heart to tell him that you probably wouldn't.

"I dearly hope so, my prince. There is so much more I meant to tell you. Everything you know is about to change."

You and the Professor shared a look before you wrapped your arms tightly around Caspian's waist, setting off to hopefully start a new life.

#narnia x reader #narnia #prince caspian x reader #prince caspian #prince caspian x you #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes #ben barnes x you #ben barnes x y/n

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swordcreature · 5 months

Text

(this is a repost of a fic on ao3 that i wanted to bring over here as well sorry)

Tend to Me Softly

He is all angles, sharp edges. But her? She is plush curves: hills and valleys of flesh to get lost in. She is a peppering of freckles across creamy skin. She is everything he isn’t, his perfect opposite.

Tags: Named Tav, Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Tail Play, Consensual Somnophilia

Word Count: 5,708 [Read on AO3]

It’s well past any reasonable hour, he’s sure of that. The moonlight stretches through the curtains painting long stripes of silver over the stone floor in a way only the mid night sky can. There is a cool silence, only disrupted by the quiet breaths of his love wrapped tenderly in his arms. Her chest rises and falls in a constant rhythm like the fall of his hammer, and he knows if he focused hard enough he could doze off to the steady beat. Most nights he would at least try.

Tonight, though, Dammon relents to lying awake as his mind races, dwelling on the thoughts too dark for the daytime; thoughts so heavy and fraught with fear that their presence in the sunlight would surely block the warmth from ever reaching him. Or so it felt.

He closes his eyes.

Scenes of red and black, blood and ash, are scorched into memory, replayed as if he were still living them. He can almost feel the heat like the lick of hellfire singeing him through thought alone, turning his edges black with sulphury smelling soot. The world shifts underneath him, and he is falling. No, not falling. Being swallowed whole. Consumed.

Silence turns to screams; the damned cry out for mercy they will never see, the sound loud enough to make bile rise in his throat. He bites back the familiar sting, its bitterness a reprieve from the taste of burnt flesh and stale blood and infernal smoke that seems to constantly coat his mouth.

Sometimes Dammon worries his love can taste it on his lips. That it will stick to her tongue too, ruining the sweetness he savors so. That touching her with his infernal claws will leave black, filthy lines of ash and viscera across her unmarked skin. That loving him will damn her. It hasn’t happened yet, and he prays to any god that will listen, if there is one listening to a devil like him, that it never will.

Still, the fear grips him tight, a vice around his chest, crushing. He runs a single finger over the curve of her bare shoulder to see it for himself. She is unmarred; smooth, pallid skin covered only in sand-colored freckles and goosebumps. His touch leaves no trace. Perhaps that is all that he can ask for: that loving her does not leave any marks, any remnants of the Hells that cling to him. So she may leave him unscathed.

He lays his calloused hand against a plush hip where the skin is soft and full and warm. In her sleep his lover sighs his name, barely heard, as though she can feel him in the depths of her dreams. For a moment he thinks she has awoken, but her body is limp and face blank.

He continues.

There is a desperation to Dammon’s touch despite its gentleness, a slight tremble in his fingers as he lets the feeling of her start to wash away his darkness before he is swallowed whole. He needs her, he thinks, needs every part of her to cull this ache he’s built in his chest.

His palm traces the hills of her body down to a thigh, copper fingers tightening just barely, then releasing, in a slow, tender knead. His eyes flicker across her face, waiting. A breath slips out from parted lips, but she does not wake.

She's too deep in sleep’s sweet embrace to feel the shift of the bed as he gently slides his arm out from under her. He props himself on an elbow and carefully grasps behind her knee. There is no resistance as he spreads her open, reveling in the way she is slowly exposed. A private thing, for his eyes only.

He swallows thickly and takes a moment to enjoy the way her core shines with arousal despite having barely touched her sleeping form. So wanting, he would tease her later. A lithe finger is raised to her waiting sex, slipping between her folds, covering it in her slick.

In one long stroke he drags the calloused pad of his middle finger across her apex and down to her entrance, then circles back. He follows that path several times, eyes flitting between her core and her face as he works.

Her brow is pulled tight in pleasure and her hips rock unconsciously. A ghost of a whimper hangs on her tongue. Oh how he hopes her dreams are sweet.

Dammon feels heat build low in his stomach, an excitement of his own pressed against his groin. It aches, untouched, but he wouldn’t dare to indulge right now. Not when she is so bare before him, wetness trailing down his fingers. He licks his lips and brings his hand to his mouth. Sucking a digit into his mouth, his tongue hungrily laps up her juices. She is heady and sweet and somehow a bit metallic. By the gods she is made just to his tastes.

It’s too much. It’s not enough.

He’s quick to fit himself between her legs. Long, clawed fingers grip her outer thighs as he places warm, open-mouthed kisses along the inside. He draws a long breath in through his nose and loses himself in her musk, almost as intoxicating as her taste.

The tip of his tongue sinks between her folds before flattening to take a long, slow lick upwards, savoring every drop of her like the fine wines she likes so much. He continues like this for some time, languorous strokes of his tongue swiping over every inch of her warm, pink cunt as if he could swallow her whole. Consume her.

It is only when he takes her stiff bud between his lips to suck softly that her eyes blink open, a shiver rippling through her. Dammon’s eyes bore into hers and, despite the veil of sleep that envelopes her, she is overcome by the need to run her fingers through his hair, to hold him ever closer to her throbbing core.

His hair spills from its elastic, her fingers tangling in its roots. She pitches her hips towards him, cradling his face closer to where she needs him in a silent plea. His eyes don’t leave her face as he brings a finger to her entrance and pushes, taking careful consideration of his claws. He times the pump of his finger with the suckling of her clit. Then he adds another finger.

A hand stays fisted in his hair, the other moving to one of his horns; she palms it eagerly, feeling each bump and ridge against her open hand. His horns aren’t all that sensitive, but the way she handles it, not unlike the way she touches his cock, makes his chest thrum with unbridled need. He thrusts faster and hums against her aching clit.

She's a tight string about to snap, spine arching, toes curling. Every muscle is held taut in anticipation as she teeters on the brink of bliss. He can feel it: the way her thighs shake and strain to stay open, the way she squirms as his fingers curve into the spot that makes her see stars; he knows she is oh so close.

With hunger glinting in his eye, he rakes his teeth over her pearl. It’s gentle and light but she can feel it in her spine like electricity coursing through her bones. It’s enough to finally tip her over the edge.

Dammon closes his eyes and relishes the feeling of her fingers in his hair tugging him closer while a fist curled around his horn pushes him away. Too much and not enough. Fingers plunge into her swollen cunt again and again, working her through the waves of her climax like he works molten metal: insistent, relentless, careful until pliant and soft beneath him.

She breathes in shallow huffs of air while he takes his time pressing warm, wet kisses into her skin. In a line from thighs to chest, he nips playfully at silky skin, apologizing with his tongue when fangs leave an unsightly mark. He takes a pert nipple into his mouth, rolling it against his tongue while his fingers occupy the other.

The noises she makes under him are sweet and melodic – each pull and pinch of her nipple akin to a string plucked on a lute. He never was gifted with instruments, but in this moment he feels like a virtuoso.

The music ends as she pulls him upwards, hands trembling as they grab at his face. He relents with a tender smile, allowing himself to be dragged up until their lips meet. It’s a soft kiss, mouths moving lazily, luxuriating in the warmth of one another. She draws back slightly so their noses touch and searches his eyes.

She’s still searching when he laughs bashfully.

“What?” Her stare could burn a hole through him, he’s sure. It’s full of love and concern in a way he knows he has never experienced before her. He never will after her, he thinks.

“What’s the matter my love?” Her voice is a whisper. Thin fingers brush his hair from his cheek, tucking blonde-auburn locks behind a pointed ear. She knows him too well for him to lie.

His gaze drops, too much of a coward to look at her directly when he speaks. Behind him he feels his tail swishing back and forth like an anxious cat. He wills the damned thing to stop, but it flicks harder. The traitor.

“I- I’m-” The words catch in his throat, though he wants to say them so very badly. He yearns to open his chest to her so that she may grip his beating heart, filled with fear and shame, and kiss it with the tender reverence she saves only for him. And she would if he asked.

Perhaps that is why it's so hard to do so.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she murmurs, lightly tracing the tip of his ear. A shiver runs through him. “But you know I’ll always listen.” He closes his eyes in response, taking a deep breath through his nose. Her scent mixes with the smells of the cooled forge a story below them, lavender and rose water and ash and metal. It smells like home.

“How can you stand it?” he asks, voice thick, still not daring to look her in the eye.

“Stand what?”

“Me. This . All of it. I- I don’t know.” The bed creaks as he pulls away from her, leaning back to sit on his knees between her legs. He runs a hand over his face. Gods he has no idea what he’s saying.

She frowns, brow furrowed in confusion, but doesn’t press further. Instead, she lifts onto her elbows and waits for him to gather his words, ever patient. His head is turned, too afraid to even face her.

“I- I’m-,” he starts, attempting to put words to the feeling of cinders burning in his chest, of being burned alive. “How can you stomach the thought of such a damned thing touching you? Of an infernal creature in your bed? How does the thought of it not make your skin crawl?” The words spill with more bite than he truly intends.

He clenches his jaw so hard he’s afraid his teeth will shatter. The tang of blood from his cheek mars her taste on his tongue.

“Dammon,” she sighs, a quiet plea. “Dammon.” She repeats his name, louder and more direct. A command for his attention. He peers at her from the corner of his eye, lips pressed into a thin line. Hesitantly, she pushes up from her elbows to sit upright, reaching out to cup his neck.

Her thumbs stroke his jaw. It is a delicate and tender touch. Honey sweet. It is everything she is, and it makes his chest ache. “You know that I love you.”

He shakes his head. “But why?” Any other time the desperation in his voice would make him cringe; the neediness of it turns his stomach sour, but he can’t help it now. “Why love a- a a devil, a fiend ? There’s a million other people out there without horns or claws or tails, who don’t stink like the sulfurous pits of the Hells, who-” His breathing is ragged, worked into a rage aimed only at himself. He steels himself with a long breath in. “People wouldn’t stare. Wouldn’t gawk. Like you’re some kind of heathen for holding my hand. Why do you taint yourself with me?”

The differences between them had never been so poignant to him before this. He is rough and firm where she is supple and smooth and soft. Gods she is so soft. Devilish ridges cover his back, sprawling over his chest. Even his knees are bumpy and grotesque, he thinks.

“Is that what you want? For me to leave, be with someone else?” He desperately doesn’t. The thought alone is a knife in his chest.

She sits up straighter, making herself taller, looking him in the eye.

“I’ve never felt so loved before I met you – so safe. Why should I care what others think?”

He wants to speak, but the words don’t come. So she continues.

“You are so much more than what you give yourself credit for. And it hurts so deeply to know you think like this. I desperately wish you could see yourself like I do.” She lifts to match his pose – both sitting on bent knees – and cards her fingers through his hair.

Not a moment passes, and she persists. He’s grateful; the thoughts don’t get a chance to spiral further downward when she talks.

“You see a damned creature, I see a man, by the gods, meant just for me. Eyes like the blue of the sky with the sun sitting in its warmth,” she whispers, punctuating the thought with a kiss to each eyelid.

“A smile so bright and full it makes my heart sing.” Now a kiss to his lips, lightly.

“Hands, strong, steady, talented bend metal to their will but also are so achingly gentle.” She grabs his hands, laying her next kisses on each open palm.

“Your heart. Full of passion and love and laughter and kindness. So much kindness.” Her final kiss is placed over his thundering heart. He’s sure she can hear it, feel it, but in truth he couldn’t care.

“Venary,” he breathes her name like a prayer, reverent and holy.

“Shh my love. I’m not finished,” she chastises, though it holds no bite. A hand moves upwards to caress his sharp horns as though they were something precious, something fragile. The other ghosts over the spines that cover his sternum.

“These parts of you are just as worthy of love. Worthy of tenderness. You know that, right? Your blood is infernal, yes, but that isn’t some dirty word, some curse. Just a fact. The sky is blue, and you are infernal. You aren’t worth less for it.”

“You love me then, despite these features, damned as they may be?”

She shakes her head. “No! Gods you stubborn man, I love them. Your horns, your tail, your claws, every bump and ridge on you, all of them. Because they’re a part of you.” The corners of her mouth lift in the barest hint of a smile. It falls quickly, though.

“I can’t begin to imagine what it was like when Elturel fell, but you’re not there anymore.” She stops and grabs his face. “You’re here, you’re thriving with your own little corner of the world. Here with me. Avernus can’t touch that, can’t change what you’ve done.”

He watches as she blinks, fighting back tears. He’s made her cry, he realizes. One drop falls and he swipes it away with the pad of his thumb. “It certainly can’t change how I feel about you. How much I love you. How much I want you.”

It’s so easy to believe her, to let her saccharine words assuage every fear and every worry that rattles in his head. Like breathing or laughing, it comes naturally, her love quenching the searing fire of the hells within him until there is nothing left of him but skin and bones of a man. Not a tiefling, not a fiend, not a beast.

Dammon reaches for her, pulling her up to crush his mouth to hers. The kiss is sloppy and almost on the wrong side of too forceful, but he can’t stop himself. And she doesn’t protest.

She yields, leaning forward to mold herself around him. He revels in the way her chest presses against his, winding both arms around her waist to keep her there.

When his lungs are just about to burst from lack of air, he breaks free to plant open-mouthed kisses – more tongue than anything – up her neck between breaths. He follows the curve up to her ear, tracing the shell with a pointed tongue. Hot breath tickles her ear, and she giggles. The sound of it makes him grin like an idiot.

“You have no idea how much I love you,” he whispers still a bit strained. “Gods you’re everything, aren’t you?” There’s a part of him that wishes he studied poetry and not smithing – that he could mold flowery prose together with the same ease he crafted a weapon. Then he could show just how true his words are. But Dammon is much better with his hammer than he is with a pen.

He’ll just have to find another way to show her, he thinks.

She drags his face to her, hands unsteady. Dammon's lips find hers, kissing them in a way that would be chaste, if it weren’t for the way he lingers after. Seizing the opportunity, she peaks her tongue between his lips, urging them open with a lazy flick. He accepts the invitation with a quiet moan. The kiss deepens as tongues lap against each other in a slow, sensual caress.

The hot, hard length of his cock is damp between them, pressed against her hip. Her hand drifts down to draw a path up the shaft before running a thumb over the head. A pearly bead of precum sticks to her, and she pulls from their kiss to make a show of licking it off. He throbs almost painfully.

“Lay back little love. I need you,” he orders against her lips. She falls back in silent compliance, more than happy to indulge him.

Dammon sits back to take a knee in each hand, spreading her to reveal her swollen center once more. Any other time he would playfully chide her with a click of his tongue for the way arousal drips from her sex making a mess of the sheets below. But tonight, the view has all the blood in his body rushing down to his member. The only sound that leaves him is a groan, an incoherent curse lost to lust.

Sliding back off the mattress, he lowers himself to kneel on the cool stone floor at the foot of the bed. He places a hand under each thigh, gripping firmly, and pulls her to the edge in one swift motion. A tender warmth spreads through him at the sound of her laughter, like the chiming of bells.

Her mirth is cut short as he lifts a slender calf up and onto his shoulder. She watches him with half lidded eyes and a heaving chest; the sight of her like this – open and wanton – is almost cathartic. Healing. As though the vulnerability she affords him could stitch up his open wounds to make him whole.

He’s lost in thought when her voice draws him back to the present, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m still pretty sensitive from before. Having just you is more than enough.”

His laugh is a bark, short and loud and a bit incredulous. Because oh gods there is nothing he wants more. The thought of her assuming otherwise is a blow to some irrational part of his ego that he intends to avenge. With his mouth. Against her pretty pink cunt. Again .

He shakes his head, a smirk toying on his lips. “And if I do?”

“Then far be it for me to dissuade you from your desires,” she quips, trying her best to keep the needy shake in her voice at bay. It’s a fruitless endeavor really.

Clawed thumbs part her folds as though unfurling a flower that has not bloomed. Dammon wastes no time tracing her with a hot tongue, savoring the way her muscles quiver under it. She was right, he thinks. So sensitive.

He moves a thumb from her outer lips, choosing to favor the swollen bundle of nerves at her apex, rubbing firm, persistent circles around it. The sound that leaves her is urgent and needy, her walls clenching around nothing.

Ever the gentleman, he sinks his tongue deep inside her, providing some semblance of the fullness she desperately wants. He fucks her with tongue and fingers until his jaw starts to hurt and his fingers cramp. But it doesn’t stop him, drunk on something far better, stronger, than any spirit he’s ever had.

Maybe that’s why Dammon doesn’t notice the way his tail, as if acting of its own accord, wraps possessively around her ankle. She does though.

And something about the simple act hurls her into the throes of her second orgasm. It is not nearly as graceful or timid as her first; her body curls in on itself, tense, and her hips buck against his face irrhythmically. She pushes him away with a trembling hand, whining as she comes down. Too sensitive.

He raises his head from her center. Setting back on his haunches, he palms his erection as he takes in his little piece of art. It’s better than anything he has made in the forge, that’s for sure. A giggle interrupts his appreciation.

“What?” he asks, amused. In answer, she lifts and lazily wiggles the leg his tail is wrapped around. “Oh.” His ears flush a deep amber. Dammon had always been very mindful of his tail, never wanting to cause unease. And when they met, he worked hard to make sure it sat behind him like it wasn’t there.

With a sheepish grin, he loosens his grip, tail unwinding. She catches it with a quick hand and holds it in place against her, biting back a kittenish smile. He raises an eyebrow.

“I- you can leave it.” She tries to be nonchalant, keeping a cool, calm tone. But she fails at hiding the way her hips readjust their position, the way her eyes dart around his face but don’t meet his.

His stomach twists; surely it’s discomfort that makes her squirm, he thinks. Because it’s one thing to say she loves his more infernal features, it’s something else entirely when one wraps itself around her so intimately.

He moves to grab the hand which holds his tail so that he may uncoil himself from her ankle. It unravels, dropping her leg unceremoniously. Her face noticeably falls with it, much to his confusion. She looks let down, disappointed almost, like a child who was just told ‘no’.

“Why’d you move it?”

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he says as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh. Well. Put it back.”

Dammon considers his love an easy read most of the time but in this moment he could not be more puzzled.

“Why?” It comes out more a laugh than a word.

“Because!” she starts, sucking a plump lip between her teeth. For a second he thinks they may be talking about two different things with how defensive her tone is. “Because. I like it.” The statement is so simple, so matt-of-fact, it catches him off guard.

Then realization dawns.

The wiggling hips, the lack of eye contact? It wasn’t discomfort, no, it was embarrassment! Reticence! And it’s suddenly as plain as the night is dark, the telltale signs of her arousal peaking though the haze of his self-consciousness. She liked the way it tucked itself around her in lewd excitement. Enjoyed it.

The thought is enough to bring what seems like all the blood in his body back down to his cock. It throbs with newfound purpose.

But, it would be remiss of Dammon to ignore this new development, the generous soul he is. So, he stands, moving to lean over her body, hands bracing on each knee. Rough palms follow the contour of her thighs up to the swell of her hips then still at her waist. His smirk is devious, stare unrelenting.

Her mouth pops open as if to ask a question and Dammon watches in mischievous suspense as it drops open further to gasp for an unsteady breath; his tail, having snaked up the inside of her leg, moves carefully through her – now twice tender – folds. It rocks back slowly as he examines her face for any sign of unease. There is none, only the look of feverish excitement.

Dammon lets his tail touch her slowly, feather light, moving himself upwards to lay over her. Her head is bracketed between his strong arms, faces an inch apart breathing each other's air. Neither dare to look away.

“Dammon,” she gasps, hands twisted in the sheets below, knuckles strained white.

“Yes?” His voice drips with faux innocence.

“Hah- Please!”

He dips his head, lips ghosting against the shell of her ear and shifts his weight onto one hand. The other comes to rest on her jaw, thumb swiping over a damp bottom lip. As he runs his tail over her sensitive pearl, she shivers.

“Please what, my love?” Teeth tug at the soft meat of her earlobe. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll take care of you.” A kiss is pressed to her temple.

“Please- Want you . Need you in me!” It’s as much a plead as it is a demand, one that she punctuates by sucking his thumb into her mouth, curling her tongue around the coarse pad. All of a sudden Dammon finds himself very lightheaded and very ready to take her. She’ll be the death of him, he’s never been so sure.

The spongey head of his cock is slick with precum which he smears down his length with one firm stroke. With a second pass of his hand, a new bead forms and his hips pitch forward instinctively. Her hand reaches between their bodies to grip him, fingers loosely caressing the ridges of his shaft.

His tail slides out from her core, the promise of being inside her too good to continue his teasing. It tangles around her lower thigh to pin her legs further apart. He’s reminded of the pictures he’d seen in a book once, of women tied up with thick rope and intricate knots. Bare skin squeezed between bindings in preparation to be taken. Gods she would look so pretty tied up, he idly thinks.

Her fist works his length over once, twice more before she uses him to spread the warm lips of her sex. Dammon gives a few testing ruts of his hips, coating himself in her slick, before aligning with her entrance.

The muscles in his arms tremble with exertion as he tries not to immediately bottom out with one rigorous thrust. Instead, he tries to prolong the feeling, pressing into her inch by inch, letting her heat envelope him slowly until he’s fully seated within her. And she does fit every last bit of him.

Something about the thought makes him feral with need. She is so petite. Plush. Human. And yet she takes his cock, long and thick and infernal , like it was made for her. Though his hips are flush against hers, it makes him buck forward mindlessly, earning a keening moan from his lover.

“Okay?” he asks, searching her face for discomfort. She nods eagerly, hips starting to squirm underneath him in pursuit of any bit of friction she can achieve. It pulls a quick, breathy gasp from his chest.

Dammon catches her jaw with his hand and tilts her head up for a deep kiss as he begins to move. The pace he sets is measured, deliberate. Tonight is not a night for the harsh, punishing rhythm of animalistic sex. No, tonight is tender. It is loving. Tonight is reserved for soft words whispered into flushed ears, bodies made one by the deep strikes of hips, one breath shared between two.

A night to put every schmaltzy romance book he’s ever read to shame, he thinks.

An arm snakes underneath her waist, palm pressed to the small of her back, urging her rear to tilt off the bed. With the new angle she takes him impossibly further until he is met with the firm resistance deep within her.

The gentle prod of his erection sends a shock through his love that leaves her gasping for air. They pause for a moment, and he watches her chest heave, exhilarated.

And then suddenly she is grasping for him, his face, his neck, his horns, anything she can possibly leverage to bring his mouth to hers. Her kisses are hungry with insistent, unspoken pleas for more, more of that . Dammon couldn't saw no if he wanted to.

He doesn’t want to.

He grinds against her, focusing on that spot deep inside with gentle presses and rubs, finding just the right pressure to keep pleasure from turning to pain. It’s a careful balance, but he’d be a poor smith if he struck hard where softness was needed.

They lie chest to chest, Dammon able to feel how every little movement of his cock ripples through her, a tremor that surges from her curled toes, up her spine, to her lungs. Her cunt tenses around him, so achingly close to the edge already, and he is eager to tip her over to reap the sweetness that overflows.

He's close too, he realizes, after having worked himself up for so long. The flames of his arousal lick at the base of his member and turn the blood in his veins white hot. Fire has never felt so good. The pressure of it is molten in his groin, but he steels himself, fixated on wringing another orgasm from her before he meets his end.

So, he works – diligent and resolute – alternating from filling thrusts to light massages, desperately trying to satisfy her need for friction and stimulation to that sweet spot inside her. Her kisses turn sloppy. Moans turn to mewling whines. Trembling hands pull him closer, could such a thing be possible.

If her second orgasm was clumsy and inelegant, her third is almost violent: an avalanche that captures her within its inevitability. She tumbles through the throes of pleasure, swept under the weight of it. Her hips, still supported by Dammon’s arm, writhe against him, practically thrashing. Her body bends towards him at an unnatural angle and she turns to press her face into his arm beside her to muffle the cries of satisfaction with a bite.

Her cunt clenches, walls constricting around him almost to the point of pain, but not quite. It’s wonderfully tight and deliciously suffocating and just what he needs to hurl him over the cliff into his own climax.

His cock pulses like the coals in his forge, hot and bright, thick ropes of spend pumping into her sex until she cannot take any more of him. He can feel the way it starts to coat her thighs as he presses his hips into her, thrusting spastically as he rides out the last waves of his own orgasm.

His love slumps, crooked back now relaxed as she melts beneath him. He follows, covering her body with his, careful to keep himself half supported by the forearm still braced at her head.

The quiet of the night is a music that tangles with their soft, labored breathing. Its melody embraces them in its cool repose as though they are the only two people in the world.

To Dammon, they are.

She rights her head to look at him, a tired smile on her face. He returns it and dips down to press his lips to hers. They stay like that for some time; her arms wound around him, his hand brushing through silky hair, their lips moving together unhurried. Satiated and at peace.

Only when the cold bite of the nighttime air catches on their sweat slick bodies do they part, Dammon standing on still somewhat shaking legs to grab a cloth to cleanup. He returns to his love still languidly sprawled on the bed and takes in the sight.

Her lips are plump, swollen from too many kisses, her nipples still peaked against the cool air, thighs shining with her wetness and his cum. She is debauched, a testament to his love that is beautifully impermanent. The marks he leaves aren’t stains, they won’t mar her forever.

He pauses, hoping to sear the image into his memory, then starts to run the cloth over her body, cleaning up the mess they made.

The sun has just started to peak its head out over the horizon by the time they are cleaned and back beneath the warm covers of their shared bed. Hints of pink and orange creep into the room as they lie, limbs intertwined in a tender embrace.

“I love you,” she whispers, sleep heavy in her voice. A finger traces the spiked ridges of his ribs.

“I love you too,” he breathes with a kiss to her temple. He’s never been so sure of something in his entire life.

She’s fast asleep before long, breath even and rhythmic. His tail hooks over her waist, hugging her closer and he can't help but smile to himself. He closes his eyes and listens to the sound of her steady breath before quickly joining her in slumber.

#my writing #bg3 #bg3 dammon #dammon #dammon x tav #bg3 smut

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