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tamakiamajikistentacles · 4 years ago

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Bite to Break Skin {Katsuki Bakugo}

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! Welcome to my first time writing for A/B/O dynamics, one of my absolute favorite things in fanfic. There’s so much potential and I’m definitely interested in exploring it with other characters! Just a small heads up, this one is pretty dialogue heavy throughout.

“C’mon,” he said as his breathing finally slowed, “we gotta get up.”

The fingers combing through his damp hair paused. “Can I wear your shirt?”

“You’ve been wearin’ ‘em for years, ain’t gonna stop you now, idiot,” he huffed as he peeled himself away from her, their skin tacky with sweat. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t be shitty to me, Katsuki, I have your virginity!”

“And I have yours. Even exchange. No reason to stop teasing you,” he grunted. Pulling her to her feet he guided her towards his bathroom with a hand on her lower back.

They cleaned up in easy silence, each of them still feeling the content fuzziness in their minds that now seemed amplified and even better than usual. At different points they briefly wondered if that was normal after losing their virginities.

Probably, they decided. For them it was a natural progression in their over two-year relationship. Having gotten together just after the provisional license exam in their first year their hero course schedules only got busier and they got less time to spend together between classes and training and work studies and internships. But those moments were coveted and left plenty of time for them to take their relationship at the perfect pace for them.

Two years of wandering hands and mouths had culminated that afternoon while the majority of the class had gone to the shopping district and neither of them could regret a single thing about it.

“Katsuki?”

She felt warmth bloom in her chest as he looked over his shoulder, his eyes half-lidded and expression relaxed. “Yeah?”

“I love you,” she smiled, fingers absently twisting the hem of his shirt that she wore.

“’Course you do,” he smirked as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and returned them to his bed, the grey sheets rumpled. He bunched them down to the end of the mattress and laid down, pulling her to lie next to him curled into his side.

He was always so warm and she loved it, now especially as the chill of January lingered in the dorm hallways and throughout their rooms. Being close to him as they laid together was one of her favorite things about their relationship. As much as he seemed like a loner in their first weeks at UA she never believed it was true and once they were together behind closed doors he was happy as long as they had some sort of contact with each other. She’d never been prouder of being right than that day.

His attentiveness was something she knew would likely contribute heavily to his secondary gender when he presented in the future. There was no doubt in her mind that he would be an alpha, and an amazing one at that. His protective streak and pride in his own abilities couldn’t be attributed to any other presentation. While she herself was unsure of what she would present as, he had always promised that it didn’t matter.

“Alphas want omegas but I want you, and that means I get you no matter what we are,” he’d grumbled one evening not that long ago when she revealed her fears of presenting as a beta and not being what his alpha would need. “Secondary gender can go fuck itself if it thinks I’d leave you over some random omega. Shit, you don’t even know if I’d be an alpha anyway, dumbass.”

If she hadn’t been sure about him before, that conversation had cemented it in her mind and in her heart. Katsuki Bakugo was the one for her and it sent her heart into a tailspin to know that he felt the same way.

She pressed herself closer to him, basking in the warmth of his body and of her thoughts.

“You’re warm,” he mumbled against her forehead.

“So’re you.”

“Nah, your skin’s pink like you took one of your showers from hell.”

She huffed out a laugh. “’M fine, Katsuki. It’s ‘cause you’re warm and I’m still kinda hot from before.”

“You’re always hot,” he said with a pinch to the seat of her underwear.

“Just cuddle me, you ass.”

His arms tightened around her and they laid together in comfortable silence. At one point she started to doze against the warmth of Katsuki’s chest, one hand on his hip at the waistband of his sweats. She’d never felt safer.

In the middle of her dreamless nap she awoke to a persistent poking to her nose. When she opened her eyes, her boyfriend’s furrowed brow came into focus as she blinked. He pressed the back of his hand against her forehead.

“You’ve got a fever.”

She wanted to protest but the trails of sweat she could feel having trickled down her back was unmistakable. She definitely felt warm but she wasn’t disoriented or feeling sick.

“It’s like a full body fever,” Katsuki muttered, dropping his hand from her forehead.

“I feel really hot, but I don’t feel sick,” she told him, sleep leaving her as confusion took over.

He fisted the collar of the shirt she wore at the base of her neck, squeezing for just a moment before pulling back a glistening hand.

“Shirt’s soaked with sweat, take it off and I’ll get you one of my tanks,” he said, rolling out of bed and walking over to his drawers.

She peeled the sticky fabric from her skin, the feeling more uncomfortable than the fact that she was sitting topless once it was off. Nothing Katsuki hadn’t seen plenty of times after all.

A black tank top hit her chest before falling to her lap and she picked it up immediately, pressing her nose into the bundle. It’d barely been a minute since he left her side but she needed the comfort. Which is why when all she smelled was the scent of detergent her nose wrinkled.

“It doesn’t smell like you,” she complained, and he laughed from where he was straightening the other tank tops in his drawer.

“It’s clean, dumbass, I haven’t worn it yet. I’ll be next to you again in like two seconds anyway.”

“Hurry up,” she whined, slipping the tank top over her head and surprising him with her needy tone. “I haven’t smelled roasting chestnuts in almost two minutes, this is cruel. I even miss the little bit of sugar.”

He turned to her with furrowed brows. “I smell like that right now?”

“You smell like that all the time, ever since I’ve known you. What, you don’t know what your own cologne smells like anymore? You gone nose blind?”

He shook his head slowly. “My cologne is sandalwood. Always has been. The sugar I’ll give you because of my quirk but your perfume has nothing on that with your sweet cherries’n shit.”

Now it was her turn to be confused. “That’s not my perfume, Katsuki. My perfume is the same floral one I’ve worn since middle school, it’s not fruity or sweet at all. Come here, do I smell like that now?”

He crossed back over to the bed and sat in front of her, gently tugging her forward to press his nose into her hair. Her face tucked under his chin and she breathed in the same familiar scent.

“Sugared cherries just like always,” he muttered. “Do I…?”

“Mhm, roasted chestnuts with a pinch of sugar,” she replied almost dreamily. It was stronger than usual, but maybe that’s because she was concentrating on it. It felt like it was surrounding her and through her and it made her skin burn hotter. It was good. So so good, and she wanted and she needed more.

She pressed herself closer to him, his confused grunt falling on deaf ears until he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her from himself to look at her. He’d felt her skin grow warmer against his bare chest, the heat startling. But when he looked at her panic shot through him as she doubled over with a whimper.

He called her name but she didn’t answer, just clutched her stomach harder while curling further into herself and whining low in her throat.

“Alright, hey, hey, listen, okay? I’m calling Aizawa, he’ll help us figure out what’s wrong,” he tried to soothe, pulling her back into his chest. Her skin burned against his but he needed her to know he was here, he wasn’t going anywhere when she wasn’t alright.

It was awkward trying to reach his phone on the bedside table with her curled against him but he was hellbent on making her feel better and if that meant practically popping his shoulder out of its socket with the stretch so fucking be it.

“What’s wrong, Bakugo?” was the greeting he got and he immediately started listing off what was happening as she continued to tremble in his lap.

“She’s burning up to the point I feel like I’m touching an oven and she—”

“Todoroki’s still in the dorms, call him up and have—”

“NO!” he snarled into the phone. “He doesn’t need to be near her, just tell me how I can help her! She’s in fucking pain and nearly incoherent right now! You’re not fucking helping me!”

Aizawa was silent for a long moment. “Bakugo, where are you two?”

“We’re in my dorm and I’d appreciate if you could save the damn lecture for when she’s actually conscious enough to fuckin’ hear it too.”

“How long has she been like this? What was she doing when she started feeling the fever? Is there anything that’s—”

“For fuck’s sake, I don’t know! An hour or so and we were just here, she was asleep while I scrolled through my phone.”

Aizawa’s tone went knowing as he prompted, “And before that?”

He weighed his options for answering. They were already in shit for her being on the boys’ side of the dorms, how much worse could it be? They were consenting adults and they were responsible about it and if it did help figure out why she was—

“That’s what I thought,” Aizawa sighed before he could decide how to answer. “I can’t be there to help but I’m sending Recovery Girl. Try and keep her comfortable until she arrives.”

When the line went dead, he could only mumble out curses as he dropped his phone and kept her pressed against him. Her little noises of pain had lessened and she didn’t feel as tightly coiled in his arms as she had, but he was still worried. At least the old lady might actually be able to do something.

“Well I must hand it to Aizawa,” Recovery Girl chuckled as she pulled the thermometer from her lips, “the man does know his students.”

“The hell are you laughing for?” Bakugo hissed. He had been pacing back and forth while she examined her, hovering close and getting more frustrated by the moment. Sure, his girlfriend didn’t seem to be in pain at the moment but he wanted whatever caused it to be taken care of now.

“Don’t take that tone with me, boy, you may be an alpha but I won’t be disrespected.”

He did a double take, sputtering, “An alpha? I’m eighteen, I haven’t presented!”

She smiled in amusement. “Not fully, no, but you’re both presenting as we speak. Fated mates can present at an earlier age when establish an intimate connection prior to turning twenty. It likely hit her first being an omega and that pulled you over too. I must say I’m a bit surprised as fated mates are quite rare at your age, though maybe even more so that this took so long. It’s admirable of you children to take things slow but when I was your age—”

“We’re fated mates?” she murmured, breaking the older woman’s rambling. “So we…?”

“Quite a spin on the high school sweetheart’s trope wouldn’t you say? Certainly a story for the pups.”

“Wait, so she’s burning up because…” he trailed off as his cheeks flushed pink. “This is…”

“Yes, yes, this is her heat beginning and your rut will follow, keep up boy. I’m sure I don’t need to go into detail on that—”

“NO!” they shouted together, mortified.

She laughed, high pitched and maniacal. “Oh alright, I’ve had my fun. You children are so easy to poke at these days. But I do suppose we need to get you prepared for the next week or so. Dear, make a list of things you’ll need from your room and Bakugo will go fetch them for you.”

“I can’t just go myself?”

“Look at that boy’s face and tell me he’s alright with you leaving his den.”

Of course when she looked to him Katsuki’s face was contorted into an angry grimace, his lips twitching back to bare his teeth.

“Just tell me what you need,” he ground out, and she quickly rattled off everything she could think of that she may possibly need. Without a word he disappeared through the door, a lingering touch to her hand a silent promise to return quickly so as to soothe any worries of abandonment or actions that could be interpreted as rejection by her inner omega.

Recovery Girl turned the chair towards her and grabbed her bag from the floor. “We have a few things to discuss now, dear.”

She went over the arrangements made by Aizawa for their classes and schoolwork as well as daily drop offs of prepared bento boxes for them since they wouldn’t be leaving Bakugo’s room. Their parents had been contacted which sent a fresh wave of nausea through her for reasons other than the heat, but she was assured that it wasn’t as a punishment since they were both eighteen. Still, she could only image the conversation she would hear at the end of her heat when she heard from home.

Expectations of what would happen during the shared heat and rut were next and she while she was sure her face couldn’t get any hotter, she was proven wrong. As awkward as it was though, at least she was talking it over with another woman; having the same conversation with Aizawa would have killed her.

Finally, it seemed that the verbal torture was finished as Recovery Girl reached into her medical bag with one hand and beckoned her closer with the other.

“Let me see your arm, I need to give you a preventative injection.”

“Ah, I uhm,” she stuttered, cheeks still reddened but not from the heat, “I’m already taking…”

Recovery Girl shook her head with a chuckle. “Presenting alters your existing biology by releasing additional hormones which awaken parts of your mind and body that contribute to the primal instincts of your secondary gender. Generic contraceptive methods would be fine for a newly presented beta but as an omega the hormones released at presentation boost your fertility to a point where the pill may as well be candy for all the prevention it does.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh.’ Now unless you and that boy of yours have decided that you want pups within the year I need to give you this.” The syringe was brandished in front of her.

She held out her arm and she cleaned the area with a swab before feeling the familiar prick to her skin and the cold chill spread into her heated blood.

“Any last questions for me before he gets back?”

She went to shake her head but paused. “Just�� what about our quirks?”

“Nothing to worry about, dear. Quirks take a backseat during these times unless a threat arises. Once bonded you will kill and die for the other and your pups, but for right now you two shouldn’t have an issue. I’d say ‘won’t’ but I think we both know your class has a habit of finding trouble, hm?”

“More like trouble finds us,” came a grunt from the doorway.

Katsuki reentered the room with her laundry basket on his hip and a tote bag over his shoulder. He visibly relaxed as he crossed the threshold and set her things on the floor at the foot of his bed.

She sat down on the plush area rug to go through what he’d brought, her legs tucked beneath her as Recovery Girl began speaking to him about the upcoming week like she’d done for her.

Rifling through the laundry basket she pulled out her pillows and blankets as well as her favorite hoodies, then she pulled everything out of the tote and put those sweaters and shirts onto Katsuki’s bed. Once everything was piled atop his sheets she began to sort through everything, enjoying the familiar smell of her own things mixing with the scent of Katsuki’s den. She hoped he would scent a few of his shirts and let her use his pillows and blankets for her nest.

“…and once you know the heat and rut have passed I’d like you to give me a call so I can come and assess you two.”

“Whatever,” Katsuki mumbled, his cheeks burning from the conversation as he took the offered slip of paper with her number. He’d never been more relieved to have a conversation end, and as soon as the door closed behind the terrible old bat he turned back to his girlfriend and his heart nearly stopped.

She was absently arranging his sheets with some of what he’d brought from her dorm to make the beginnings of her nest. Their combined scents filled his room to an almost dizzying potency but he had never felt more alive, more proud, and his inner alpha growled happily in his chest. Here was his mate, his omega, building a sweet-smelling nest in his den for the two of them and their pups.

The thought of pups broke through the haze of his instincts to allow nerves to set it. They were only eighteen and just about to finish their last few months at UA before becoming fully licensed heroes. Having pups wasn’t something they could do, at least… at least not now.

Recovery Girl had mentioned the preventative and rationally he knew that she wouldn’t give them something designed to fail and he was grateful for that but at the same time, he’d love to have pups with his mate. She was everything he could ever imagine wanting in a partner and he knew his mate would be the best mother to his pups. He’d thought so long before they presented and he was sure he’d think it until he took his last breath.

Her soft voice brought him out of his musings as she looked up at him through her lashes and shyly asked, “Could you… scent a few of your shirts and sweaters? For the nest?”

“’Course,” he replied, and seeing her eyes flicker towards his discarded pillows added, “You can use anything of mine. We’re mates.”

The heat-induced flush on her cheeks darkened slightly with embarrassment, but she nudged his pillow towards him anyway. He grabbed it and held it in his hands feeling both uncharacteristically anxious about scenting something for the first time and filled with pride at his mate seeking out his scent for her nest.

As he scented different things for her and she took them to construct their home for the next week or so he could see the flush fading little by little and he saw less sweat droplets running down her hairline. It was almost as if the larger and more structured the nest grew the tamer her inner omega became. That soothed him too, making him thankful for the calm before the storm of her first heat really began and pulled his rut to the forefront with it.

He leaned against the far wall as she worked in silence arranging their things into the what he assumed was a perfect nest—he didn’t know much about omega nesting instincts but it looked inviting enough to him that he had no qualms about spending the next week tangled with her in the textile haven. It was as if the movement she caused sent more of that sweet smell of hers wafting through the room and he could’ve sworn the sugary scent was getting stronger by the moment.

With a few last cursory pats to the sweatshirt walls she looked up at him.

"Do you think we'll lose ourselves in the heat and rut?" she asked quietly, shifting from foot to foot.

Katsuki sighed. "That's what happens with most people."

"You know, I… I knew you were it for me a long time ago, Katsuki. This morning is an amazing memory and I guess, even if this is how we get to spend the rest of our lives I'd like to remember this first too."

"Then maybe we can bond before it fully hits. I can… smell that it's going to hit hard again and that you're already feeling it creep up.”

The slick feeling between her thighs meant he was probably right. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I guess I'm just nervous."

"Hey, I know this whole thing became way bigger than either of us thought but I’m still me—the alpha part doesn’t change that. Shit I couldn’t even think of hurting you without wanting to die before, can you imagine what type of insufferably sweet asshole I’m gonna be now?” he asked with only mild disgust as he crossed his room to lay one hand on her hip and the other on her cheek.

The smile he received was worth the uncomfortable admission of his feelings; reassurance wasn’t his forte and sharing his feelings even less so but he’d always try for her.

“I know, and I’m happy you’re the one I get to be with.”

“C’mon, your nest looks good,” he said, easing her forward towards his bed. “We able to get in it yet?”

She kissed his cheek. “Yeah, let’s get in our nest, alpha.”

The shudder was hard for him to suppress, but he allowed her to pull him into the plush space where they laid together once more. They laid on their sides facing one another and Katsuki reached out to stroke his thumb over the back of her hand where it lay between them.

It was an unspoken agreement to take all the time they could before allowing themselves to indulge in the instincts of their new secondary genders, and they spoke quietly about what it all meant for them.

Mates were more permanent than marriage and fated mates even more so. The idea of claiming bites at only eighteen was daunting but at the same time it was always the plan anyway. Of course they knew they’d present but that seemed far off and more inconsequential the longer they were together prior to a few hours ago. They had their after-graduation plans and a claim had been a mutual desire, and even pups sometime in the far future. Secondary gender, as Katsuki had loved to point out, wouldn’t change that.

But with the presentations occurring and revealing them as an alpha/omega pair there were still some things that hadn’t been discussed or planned for, and they needed to be addressed.

“I’m getting warmer,” she murmured.

“We’ve got a long week ahead of us but it’s nothing we can’t handle,” he smirked.

She gave him a weak smile and pushed past her nerves to bring up what had been on her mind since her talk with Recovery Girl.

"Will… will you…?"

"If you want to, we can bond now while we're still mostly clear-headed. Some shit I’d like to remember too, you know?"

Her cheeks went pink. "No—well, yes that's probably a good idea but I… I'm… will you actually knot me?"

He choked on his tongue. "Fuck, shit, do you want me to? Do I need to? For your heat?"

"I don’t— Don't you need it to get through your rut?"

"It's… I don't want to make the decision for you, alright? If you want me to I will and if you don’t I won’t. ‘S always your choice.”

She rolled onto her side to face him, one hand rising up to trace his cheekbone and the slope of his nose, even the dip of his cupid’s bow until she came to a stop at his chin. She pressed lightly and he turned his head to look at her.

“I’m not afraid of you or anything like that. It’s all just very sudden and a lot to wrap my head around, you know? Six hours ago we were virgins and now we’re literally together for life. That’s not bad, just a lot.”

“I know,” he mumbled. “But it’s why I want you to make the call. I ain’t gonna force you to do something you don’t want. We got forever to figure our shit out.”

She laughed. “Yeah we do. For now though, I want you to. We’re gonna bond today and then heatshare, rutshare, and get tied together for the next week. This morning was amazing and now that we know we’re fated mates I think that’s gonna make it even better.”

“Once is all it took to get you addicted, huh?”

“Shut up!” she whined as she pushed against his shoulder and turned away with a blush. His loud laughter echoed throughout his room and she crossed her arms with a pout.

“Oi. Look at me.”

She rolled onto her side to face him again, lips still pouted cutely. His eyes were soft as he looked over her face and she felt proud of the small smile upturning his mouth as he did.

He reached out to smooth a hand over her hair and then gently nudged her shoulder. “Lie back.”

She moved onto her back and he settled himself over her, lying between her parted legs. It was familiar and made her smile; they’d laid together like this a hundred times over the course of their relationship and maybe it was the perfect way to cross into something more permanent.

“Katsuki,” she murmured, feeling his hands go below the tank top. He pushed it up and over her head, tossing it to the side and fixing her with an unwavering gaze.

His hands slid beneath her, pressed between her body and the sheets below, and he kissed her softly. Her hands slid up his back before settling over the solid muscle of his shoulders.

“’M gonna be the best alpha on the fuckin’ planet,” he said as they pulled apart. His lips ghosted over her cheek and down her jaw to settle at her neck. “Know I already got the best omega.”

“Will you say it?” she asked quietly, closing her eyes.

The huff of a laugh and curl of his lips on her skin made her shiver. He moved in closer to her and raised up to whisper exactly what she wanted.

“I love you.”

Her arms tightened around him and tried pulling him closer but she knew it would never feel like enough until they bonded.

Katsuki seemed to understand that too because he moved back to her neck and grazed his lips teasingly for just a second before sinking his teeth into the perfect spot as a claim.

She gasped as her head tipped back at the rush of sensations that seemed to flow from the bite. Her brain filled with static but her body felt a rush of coldness like ice water had been poured over her to combat the heat she’d been feeling for so long. Her heart sped up in her chest and she knew it was synched perfectly with Katsuki’s. The entirety of her being was aligned with his and the bond cemented as she let herself move forward and bite into her mate’s neck to stake her own claim.

Time seemed to speed up before slowing down again when she was tasting blood off of both her and Katsuki’s lips as his hands cradled her face and kissed her deeply. The coolness she had experienced during the claim had been almost completely swallowed by the heat she felt pulsing through her and becoming tangible as a needy whine against his mouth. He was so close and smelled so perfect and she wondered if she could feel him closer, her hands digging into the defined muscles of his shoulders as she held him against her.

“Look at my pretty mate,” he said lowly, his voice hushed. He nosed against the underside of her jaw just above the fresh bite as his hands roamed over her torso. “My omega, smellin’ so sweet just for me.”

The purr that bubbled from her lips surprised her but his warm hands on her and the quiet praise pushed it aside quickly when he kneaded her chest.

Her hands traced over his arms, fingers trailing down over dips of muscle. “The strongest alpha I know is all mine. I’m so lucky to have such a handsome mate.”

A please growl rumbled through his chest as her fingers hooked in his waistband and began sliding down the sweatpants until he was able to kick them off. He quickly returned the favor with her underwear to leave them both completely bare. With their scents completely unhindered for the first time with the bond formed, they could both smell the heavy, warm sweetness of roasted chestnuts and cherries that filled his dorm room. It was spicy but soft and made their heads spin knowing that this was them.

Katsuki’s hands roamed the familiar curves of her body as he leaned forward to kiss around the bite mark, feeling her lips against his neck as she did the same to him. Shivers ran up his spine at the contact and a groan escaped him as his fingers reached the apex of her thighs.

“Tell me what you need.”

She whined, hands splayed on his toned stomach.

“C’mon, tell your alpha what you need,” he coaxed.

“You,” she whispered. “Your knot. Your pups. Our pups.”

When we’re ready, was the silent understanding about the request.

Their hips met as Katsuki rolled his forward, breathy moans coming from both of them as they relished the still-new feeling of intimacy and clutched onto one another tighter.

Instincts took over, cutting the moment short, and filled with room with groans and whines and pleas between the two of them. There was no slow fumbling like there had been earlier but instead the primal need to be closer and chase the pleasure that came with the heat and rut.

She kissed him hard as the heat throughout her body pooled low in her stomach and she could tell the difference in the feeling of closeness but her hazy mind couldn’t dwell on it past knowing that this was what she needed, what would finally cool her down at least a bit.

“You’re mine,” she murmured as her back arched up from the bed and her nails dug into his shoulders.

“’M yours. You’re mine,” he grunted, mouthing at the bite once more.

Their scents were overwhelming the closer they came to their end.

“C’mon alpha, need your knot,” she whined, crying out as he still within her.

His teeth sank into the bond mark fully again, and she bit into his as she felt exactly what her inner omega needed, what she herself wanted, and allowed herself to succumb to the feeling of contentment and pleasure she would live in with her mate going forward. Warm and sated and full and safe with her alpha was where she wanted to stay.

“Bakugo. A word.”

He stalked over to his teacher, watching his mate step into the hallway from the corner of his eye. The new bond was sensitive and he was anxious when he couldn’t be with her. “What?”

“May I ask which of you proposed the idea of a non-traditional bite?”

“The hell are you talking about? We both have bites and they’re scarring the right way.”

Aizawa regarded him silently for a moment before waving him off. “It’s not important. Go.”

The blonde rolled his eyes and left the room, and he gathered his sleeping bag in his arms to set up in the corner for his midday nap.

It was annoying and awkward to have to deal with the paperwork and phone calls to guardians because two of his problem children couldn’t keep it in their pants while on campus—what he wouldn’t give to have seen Mitsuki Bakugo deal with this shit—and he certainly didn’t like the fact that he had to relay to the class what had happened either. He had prepared what would’ve been one of his best punishments to date for when the overwhelming scent of newly presented and bonded mates had lessened at least a bit, but it had all been abandoned the moment the two stepped up to speak with him.

Her embarrassment was obvious, the fact that her twice her age male teacher knew exactly what had been happening in that room for the past week probably enough to make her want to vomit, but furious blush aside she held herself well. Bakugo had (likely somewhat unintentionally) over scented the room alarmingly with equal parts calm for his mate and warning to his alpha teacher, his own blush prominent.

What stood out though, was the bond mark on her neck. It was already scarring which was to be expected and its placement was correct but it was backwards. Traditionally a bond mark was given to an omega by an alpha in the midst of a shared heat and rut, primal positioning meaning that the bite was given from behind. It was biology, instinct, the overwhelming need to lay claim—he understood that, had experienced it many times over even long after a bond mark was given. Fated mates were more susceptible to this too, especially when presenting early.

But this type of bonding mark made him think that it wasn’t fueled by that need or desire built deep into the rumbling chest of an alpha. At least, not completely. Looking into someone’s eyes was intimate, vulnerabilities laid bare before the person they’re going to spend their life with. That wasn’t easy, and a week prior he would’ve said that Bakugo would probably never be able to do it. To see that it was quite the opposite and seemingly unconscious on his part was fascinating.

He considered that instinct wasn’t the reason but the more he thought about it as he sat cocooned within the warmth of his sleeping bag, the more he realized it may actually be the opposite. Maybe it was instinct. Love was funny like that sometimes.

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! I have a few ideas about a possible sequel for this story that would take place in the future when they’re ready, though nothing concrete just yet!

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crackededges · 4 years ago

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Starry-Eyed

Pairing/s: Analogical

Warning/s: Kissing, implications of anxiety, and self-deprecating thoughts. If there should be more, feel free to let me know.

Summary: One night, Virgil finds Logan alone, gazing at the glittering sky. It takes Virgil every ounce of his being not to fall for the starry-eyed nerd in front of him, not knowing that he already has...

Genre/s: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Word Count: 4366

Author’s Note: Leave it to me to make a Moceit ficlet and write this monstrosity after. Likes and reblogs are highly appreciated.

AO3

*****

“It’s getting pretty late…” Virgil stood solemnly across from Logan.

The night was warm. Warm enough to make the air heavy with musky scents of nature. From the sickly sweet smell of freesias to the shallow whiffs of grass, every little detail stood as an unashamed reminder of spring.

The evening breeze grazed his skin, wrapping him in its sultry embrace when he found Logan, seated on the ground, lost in his own head. The surroundings sighed. It was a delightful change from the usual cold nights that blew mercilessly at whoever was found awake and rattling with restless thoughts.

Restless thoughts like Logan’s.

Logan stiffened. He looked to the source of the voice, and let his muscles loosen once he recognized the figure in front of him. A short, relieved exhale could be heard escaping his lips. If one were to be quiet enough, maybe they’d hear Virgil’s curiosity spark in weak but volatile bursts.

“Virgil,” he began. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Virgil stepped closer. The grass brushed against his shoes, delicate but assertive. He usually didn’t like the sound. It was much too unsettling, especially at a time where darkness enveloped each corner with its presence, rendering anyone weak and helpless. But at that moment, it was the least of his worries.

It wouldn’t be a part of his worries for quite a while.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep by now?” Virgil stood beside him, making sure to maintain a comfortable distance. “You’re usually so strict with your own schedule.”

In one swift move, Logan brought his hand up to inspect the watch on his wrist and his eyes went wide. “My apologies.” He looked around, clearly disarranged. “I didn’t seem to notice the time.”

“Distracted?”

Logan looked up. “Pardon?”

“Were you distracted by something?”

His gaze retreated to the ground, shame and embarrassment flooding his face. “Yes…” He admitted. “I suppose that would be a good assumption.”

Virgil cracked a smile, finding amusement in Logan’s sudden loss of order about himself. He glanced at the sky above them. A dark blue canvas had covered its entirety with clouds bleeding into the thick veil, sporadic and untamed. Stars were scattered across the heavens, enthralling in their unaligned pattern. It provided balance in some way. A solitary flaw in a sea of flawless elegance. Now that was a sight to see.

“I don’t blame you,” Virgil said. “The sky’s pretty clear tonight.”

“It is.”

“It’s rarely like this.”

Logan sighed, melancholy lacing his tone. “Unfortunately.”

A wave of empty silence passed. Logan cleared his throat, clearly not wanting to tolerate the awkwardness that hung in the air. “Speaking of nights, I should be preparing myself to sleep now.” He took one last glance at his watch before heading in the opposite direction. “Thank you for reminding me, Virgil.”

Virgil turned to look at him, his face tightening. He weighed his options, creating thousands upon thousands of reasons that spoke against what he was about to do. Yet...

“Wait.”

Logan stopped in his tracks. He looked over his shoulder and Virgil could’ve sworn his heart fluttered inside his chest, repeatedly colliding against the walls of his ribcage, when he was greeted with curious eyes he would willingly lose himself in.

“Virgil?” Logan asked, soft and cautious. “Is there something wrong?”

Virgil’s mind scrambled for something to say, desperately hoping that incoherent gibberish wouldn’t erupt from his lips. Luckily, they didn’t. “Like I said, the sky’s rarely like this. And it’s a weekend. It wouldn’t hurt to stay up for a little longer if you want to…”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “I don’t see how that would be a logical idea.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

Logan stayed bolted to where he stood, unwavering. Virgil sighed. “Things don’t always have to be logical, Logan-”

“I highly doubt that.”

“And I saw the way you were staring before I interrupted. You seem so... intrigued.”

Strangely, Logan’s voice diminished, possibly subdued by the last word. “What about it?”

“Nothing. It’s just that…” Virgil paused, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t see you like that often. It’s a good break from being…”

“Unapproachable?”

“Stoic.”

“‘Stoic’?”

Virgil nodded.

Logan opened his mouth, hesitated, and said, “Should I take that as a negative observation?”

He shook his head. “No,” he replied. “I don’t think you should. You have a lot of self-control. That’s admirable.”

Logan stared at the ground, his face contorted into something Virgil couldn’t read. A crease formed between his eyebrows and that was enough of an indication for regret to start seeping into Virgil’s handwoven cloth of conscience. With an uneven voice, he quickly added, “Unless you don’t want to be called ‘stoic’, then just forget I said anything. I’m sorry if-”

“No.” Virgil cocked his head to the side, feeling the pricks of fear disperse and disintegrate. “It’s fine.” Logan turned to properly face Virgil. A hint of a smile could be seen upon his lips. “‘Stoic’ it is.”

It was Virgil’s turn to exhale with relief.

Logan went and sat back down, letting meaningful silence pass between them aside from the faint rustling against the grass. Virgil shifted his footing. He tried to decide if his presence was still welcomed or not.

“Virgil?”

Virgil glanced back. “Yeah?”

Logan smiled. His next words were enough to make Virgil numb from the long-lasting buzz of excitement that jittered through his bones.

“Would you like to join me?”

***

That was how it started. Every week, after all of the strain, after all of the fatigue, the worry, the tightness that slithered and branched from every shortcoming, they found themselves in the same spot at the same time. There was never any formal discussion about it. Neither of them told or urged the other to meet them there. A specific time was never set. It simply happened. Every week, there was an itch in the deepest parts of Virgil’s insides, slowly but surely growing until it was impossible to ignore. He needed to be by Logan’s side, and he feared trying to form a sensible reason behind it.

Maybe he didn’t need a reason. Maybe they could continue this small routine of theirs, forever gazing at the endless sea of stars above them while ignoring Virgil’s agonizing feeling of wanting more. So much more. More of Logan’s presence. More of his demeanor. More of his calming voice that cascaded along crevices of Virgil’s uncertainty and distress, filling them with nothing but mellow security.

He wanted what lay beyond civil words and shallow smiles, but he would be a fool to say that it wasn’t far from his reach. Wanting more was a luxury he couldn’t afford. And what he had in that spot, beneath the stars, was all he could ever claim as his.

If that was the only thing he had in his grasp, he was going to savor it.

Logan had just finished discussing Sirius A, the brightest star that could be seen from Earth’s sky. Earlier, he pointed towards three stars spaced uniformly from one another. They eventually led to a ball of light that seemed to outshine the rest, grand and dignified with its superiority.

Virgil thought it was lucky.

“Do you remember the other day?” Virgil asked, poking through the wall of silence between them. That was another thing. Silence was rarely tense; never rigid. In some miraculous way, Virgil found comfort in the lack of noise. With Logan next to him, taut air was left with no room to settle. And Virgil was thankful. “When you said you were unapproachable?”

“I rarely forget things, Virgil.”

“I know.” A shaky hand ran through his bangs. “I just wanted to be sure.”

Virgil felt Logan’s stare. He didn’t dare to meet it. “Yes, I remember.”

There was a pause.

“Is that seriously what you think of yourself as?”

Logan turned to him, giving a confused look. Something dangled behind his voice. Hurt. Hurt that wasn’t his to carry. He couldn’t understand how the word could have affected him. Maybe he was tired. That must be it.

“Yes,” he answered matter-of-factly. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“No, it’s just that…” Virgil’s hand traced against his jeans, taking a stray thread and holding it between his fingers, a faux expression of focus plastered on his face. “Don’t you think that’s kinda harsh?”

“Being unapproachable?”

“Calling yourself unapproachable.”

“I don’t think so.” Logan reached up to adjust his glasses. Virgil still didn’t look at him. “It’s merely an observation. I know the others find it particularly difficult to consult me for dilemmas. Making an assumption based on their selective interactions was a logical thing to do.”

“Do you think we see you as unapproachable?”

Logan frowned. An answer stood stalling upon his lips. Maybe he didn’t like that. Maybe the question wandered to a place where it shouldn’t, and he couldn’t decide what to do with it other than wave it away like a fly that was much too adamant for its own good. “It would be a reasonable assumption…”

Virgil finally looked up and met Logan’s eyes, shiny with doubt. He barely noticed how close they were to one another, and that revelation almost made him choke. He took a breath and finally said, “Look, take it from someone who rarely leaves his room half of the time and hisses at anyone who tries to make any form of social interaction. You’re not unapproachable.”

Logan blinked, but their gaze didn’t break other than that. He stared into Virgil’s eyes, examining them. Waiting for something to falter. Something to hang back, show delay, and possibly give him a reason to believe otherwise. After a while, he turned away. Virgil had punched the air out of his arguments. When he spoke, his voice sounded lost.

“Is there any logical evidence for that claim?”

With that, Virgil inched closer. He placed a hand on Logan’s shoulder. The touch seared into his skin, but he didn’t pull back. He didn’t shy away. His hand stayed, rubbing fond circles on Logan’s back. Logan didn’t protest.

“You’re a lot of things, Logan. Unapproachable isn’t one of them.”

***

Logan's eyes rarely left the glittering sky. Virgil never complained. In fact, he found delight in it. Logan was in the middle of explaining the expansion of the universe, but Virgil couldn’t help but steal a small glance. He was glad for that. Studying the way Logan’s face lit up from uninterrupted immersion, a jolt of warmth danced without rest.

That was Logan’s effect on him, and it was certainly going to be the death of Virgil one day.

“I never got to ask why you were interested in space so much.”

“Hmm... ?”

Virgil shuffled, his shoulder brushing against Logan’s. They were lying on the grass now. What Virgil once considered as a comfortable distance was thrown out the window, forgotten, and replaced with a new meaning. He cleared his throat. “You always seem so excited whenever space is involved. I mean... I’m pretty sure that’s the reason why the two of us are here every week, isn’t it?” Among other reasons. “Why?”

“It’s big.”

Virgil snorted, nudging Logan slightly. “That’s why?”

Logan laughed at that. Virgil had heard Logan’s laugh before. No, not the stringent one that he uses around the others for the sake of emitting laughter. He had a real one. Raw and vulnerable. He heard it every time he was done with another one of his rambles about the origin of certain constellations, laughing off the far-fetched beliefs made by the Greeks and the Babylonians. He heard it after Virgil recounted an instance with Roman, on the brink of losing his mind after being told that he needed to have facial hair before he could shave, let alone use a godforsaken sword to do it. He heard it when a firefly strayed too far and found itself landing on Virgil’s nose. He wasn’t a stranger to Logan’s laugh. Even so, that didn’t stop his chest from stirring with endearment every time he did.

Logan shifted. “There’s something intriguing about large things, Virgil,” he began once the lighthearted jests had died down. “There’s always more to learn, more to explore, more to understand. Even with that in mind, space is something beyond that; it’s beyond our understanding.” He gestured vaguely towards the sky. “It’s a seemingly infinite void that holds non-Earthly phenomena and continuously expands even before we’ve had the chance to witness it all. Space alone proves that our knowledge compiled after millions of years is only a speck in our universe.”

He paused, taking in the view in front of him, relishing in it as if it was the only time he could do so. His eyes reflected the same fervor that spilled and oozed from his words. “Many think it’s overwhelming, perhaps terrifying, but I think it’s interesting. I even think it’s, dare I say it, beautiful.”

Logan sighed. A smile hung on his face, reaching past his cheeks and up to his eyes. Seconds later, his smile fell. He cleared his throat as a faint blush started forming on his face. “My apologies for rambling. I got quite carried away-”

“You don’t need to apologize, L.” Virgil’s hand trailed to Logan’s, squeezing it gently. At the corner of his eye, he could see Logan’s smile reattach itself, and Virgil couldn’t have been anymore lovesick.

“I agree,” he said, but he wasn’t looking at the sky anymore. “It’s beautiful.”

***

One night, it was different. The usual balmy and cordial breeze had come and gone, leaving nothing but tight air that stung Logan’s nose. Virgil laid on the ground, frigid and quiet. There were no cynical remarks. No skepticism towards the constellations and the history they held. No glint of clever retorts. Not even a dismissive chuckle that acted as a sign of Virgil’s confusion from the overwhelming buckets of knowledge Logan threw onto his lap.

Something was wrong.

“Virgil?” Logan finally asked, having decided that he couldn’t withstand the sudden shift of the air between them. “Are you alright?

It took longer for Virgil to respond. Much longer. “Kinda…” His voice was worn and raspy. “Just had a rough day today.”

Logan sat up, facing him. He could see the restraint on Virgil’s face, clear as day despite the low glow of the night that only highlighted the sharp lines of his caricature. The view tugged at his chest, almost wounding. Since when did he feel like this towards another’s sorrow? Was it the way Virgil was clearly being selective with his words? Did he not trust him enough to be more open... or was it something else? Something he had yet to understand… like the dark veil above his head that held more questions than answers. Whatever it was, it tugged harder when he noticed Virgil turn away. It only added to his pain.

“Would you still be able to tolerate my presence for today? If you would rather be alone, that’s completely understandable-”

“No.”

Logan paused. Virgil tried to sneakily wipe his eyes, but it failed to get past Logan.

His expression softened. Virgil was struggling, but Logan didn’t want to be another stone for him to carry on his already weakening back.

“You can stay,” Virgil said, his voice as quiet as a whisper. His face remained hidden. “Only if you want to.”

Virgil didn’t give him time to respond when he continued with, “If you don’t, that’s fine-”

“It’s okay.”

Virgil’s chest rose unevenly. He looked up, exposing his tear-stained face, and caught Logan’s comforting gaze. For a moment, maybe that was all he needed; a look that held sincerity without an ounce of selfishness.

He didn’t want to look away. He was afraid to.

“I’ll stay.”

In a heartbeat, Virgil leaned into him, his face gently pressing against Logan’s shoulder, warm with tears. Logan wasn’t used to it, to say the least. Consoling someone was far from what he usually knew. Normally, he would leave the emotional complications to Patton. He knew more about emotions than Logan ever could. Quite frankly, Logan found himself vexed by it which meant that it would be doing both of them a favor. But today was different. Virgil was different… and he’d be damned before he’d catch himself sending Virgil away to someone else.

With his lack of experience, Logan only did what he felt was right. He wrapped his arms around him, placed a hand on the back of Virgil’s head, and he held. He held, and he held. He held Virgil close as if he had all the secrets of the world kept in his pocket. No. It was more than that...

He couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. Maybe what they had was beyond wanting. Beyond the usual things they craved from one another. At that moment, they held each other. They held without wanting anything in return.

Logan and Virgil sat on the grass, the sky twinkling without pause, and against all odds, they would stay. As long as Virgil needed him, as long as he had more tears to shed, they would stay.

In the midst of it all, Virgil’s words broke through, wobbly but certain.

“I’m really happy you’re here…”

***

A week passed.

Logan wasn’t there.

At first, Virgil didn’t know what to make of it. More days passed... and he still didn’t know. He knew the reason behind his absence. Thomas had started on another project. As a result, both Logan and Roman were whisked away, tucked back in their respective rooms, drowned in schedules, blanketed in pressure, and wrung dry with expectations as high as the stars. Virgil was no exception. That’s the thing with him... he’s never excluded entirely, is he? The sudden change in the flow of things left him winded; it left him gasping for air more than it usually did. Was it because of the anxiety that came with it all? Was it the tension and weight that he had to endure that disrupted the calmness of his days? Or was it...

No.

No, it wasn’t. It shouldn’t be. Logan had every right to shift his attention to something else. After all, it was for the betterment of all of them. A victory for Thomas was a victory for all. If Logan wanted to dedicate his time to something that was clearly more productive and more worthy of his effort, who was Virgil to stop him?

Still, the pain that clawed in his chest didn’t cease.

Virgil didn’t expect Logan’s absence to be as hollow and bleak and... empty as it was. Surely, a little more than a week wouldn’t hurt much, would it? Oh, how wrong he was. As the yesterdays bled into tomorrows, something deep within him ached. It twisted and crumpled into a misshapen mess of longing and yearning. Yearning for the slowly expanding void to disappear until it morphed into a dismal hum, forever to be ignored and overlooked. He wanted it to shrink into what it should have been: something to pay no attention to.

He wanted... but he couldn’t afford wanting. He never did.

Maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could pretend it didn’t bother him. He could pretend that the barrenness Logan left didn’t gather into a thunderstorm, raging and merciless. Menacing and violent. He could ignore how it lashed against his skin, the icy wind thrashing to and fro until he turned numb. He could lie. He could hide. He could find another way to ease his mind.

He could do that.

But if he could... then why was he sitting on the grass, looking out into the darkness, desperately wishing to hear who Orion was and why he was considered as such a great hunter from a voice of familiarity?

Why was he here?

“Virgil?”

It was Virgil’s turn to stiffen, but he didn’t turn and look to the source of the voice. He didn’t need to. The way his heart leapt to his chest served as undeniable evidence.

“It’s late,” Logan said, words drenched in fatigue.

“I know.”

There was a pause.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“This sounds familiar.”

Logan smiled through his words. “It does.”

Silence stretched. It stretched much longer than they would have liked. Logan shifted uncomfortably. “Virgil, why are you here?”

Virgil’s chest rose. His mind scraped every corner for a reason. When he turned up empty-handed, he replied with, “I’m not sure.”

They were met with silence once more. Logan took one step towards him. Then another. And another. He sat down, and the warmth of his presence was probably enough to tip Virgil over the edge from his precipice of constraint. For a while, they stayed like that, scared of saying the wrong things and making the wrong moves. Maybe it was better that way. Maybe talking wasn’t worth their time anymore. Maybe Logan had decided it was for the best that they stopped. For the best...

Why did the best always seem to hurt the most?

“I’m really sorry if what happened last time put you off.”

Logan glanced at him. “What makes you think that?”

“I don’t know.” Virgil scratched the back of his head shamefully. “I thought I scared you or something.”

“I don’t get scared.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I... don’t think I do.”

“Why do you always-” Virgil stopped and took a breath, letting his head drop into his hands. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Virgil-”

“Did I upset you in some way?” His tone started to waver like how a gate shook and rattled before bursting open, letting loose whatever creature that panted for freedom.

“Of course, not.” Logan’s next words were soft. Light. Delicate. “I was busy. You know this.”

“I do.” Virgil sighed. “I do know. I’m sorry. I just…”

For a while, Logan looked at him. Thoughtful and evaluative. He still had a hard time grasping why he cared so much about the words that left Virgil’s mouth. It wasn’t even merely the words anymore. With every action, every mannerism, every breath that filtered through his chest, he was left to dangle on a limb, desperately trying to understand more. Perceive more. Absorb more than what Virgil was letting on. Maybe, by some miracle, he could finally decipher the weird language of Virgil, and he could offer him what he wanted. What he needed. The chances of Logan actually giving him that were ridiculously low, but for Virgil, he would try. As long as Virgil’s mind went rampant with whirlwinds of disquiet, he would try.

Again and again, Logan would try.

Virgil lifted his head, still avoiding Logan’s gaze. “I’ve never had something like this.”

Logan’s brows furrowed. “Like... what?”

“This.” Virgil gestured to the space between them. “Just talking and listening and looking and…” He paused, taking his time to consider his next words. He ran a nervous hand through his bangs. “It’s always just been me, y’know? I’ve never had anyone else to talk to and help forget that the rest of the world exists. It’s nice. It feels nice. I guess I was just... scared.”

“Scared…” Logan repeated hesitantly. “Of what?”

A weak laugh escaped Virgil’s lips. “Of losing it in some stupid way.”

“Virge…” Logan began, but the rest of it trailed off. It wasn’t important. Not anymore.

It all started with a touch on Virgil’s shoulder. Just a small pat that said Logan was there. But it burned. It burned with aching. Tenderness. Affection. Everything that was stripped from them after so long came together in one touch, crowding around like a whirlpool. Before they even noticed, Logan wrapped his hand around him. Virgil clung onto it, holding as if his life depended on it. Logan came closer, taking the gesture Virgil threw his way and wrapped him with another hand. His embrace formed a port, a cover, a shelter to shield him from the raging storm of the world outside of their little spot. Logan would do that for him. He had no doubt about that.

When Logan was close enough, he rested his head on Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil turned to him slightly and he let their foreheads touch with a warmth that spread like a wildfire. Logan still had his arms around him, his heat infectious in the best way possible. Virgil couldn��t believe it. He almost didn’t want to. He feared for the sun to rise from its dark and desolate chamber, shedding its light and revealing what they had to be nothing but an illusion. He didn’t want the sun to rise. He didn’t want the night to end. He didn’t want to open his eyes and be greeted with the same stony loneliness he was used to.

But he wasn’t. He opened his eyes, and there was Logan. And Virgil couldn’t have asked for anything else.

Virgil spoke. It was soft and breathy, but Logan was close enough to hear it. “Are you still busy?” He finally asked, his lips lightly grazing against his. “Do you need to leave?”

“No.”

Virgil swallowed thickly. “Can you stay?”

Logan squeezed him tighter as if proving a point… and he smiled. “As long as you want.”

His smile was contagious and Virgil couldn’t help the way the corners of his mouth quirked up. After a while, he lifted his head and was met with blue eyes as dark as the night sky. His smile faded. So did Logan’s. The air quivered between them, shivering with uncertainty. But amongst all the doubts that clouded the moment, they were certain of one thing and one thing only.

Virgil leaned forward. Logan met him halfway. Their eyes fluttered shut before their lips met in complete and utter adoration for the other. Logan’s lips were sweeter than Virgil expected, but that didn’t stop his stomach from spinning and twisting into knots in the slightest. Why would it?

When they broke away, Virgil opened his eyes again and was surprised to see the same starry-eyed look Logan always had when he was lost in the stars above. Virgil couldn’t do anything else but lean forward for more.

Perhaps space wasn’t the only thing that Logan found captivating.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #analogical #analogical fanfiction #romantic analogical #roman sanders #patton sanders #fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #fluff #sanders sides fluff #comfort #angst #virgil angst #kissing #anxiety #sanders sides fic

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thetravelerwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Monster Match 33: Futakuchi-Onna

The Traveler's Masterlist

For @artless-whimsy : “I'm a bi cis lady, she/her. During non-pandemic times, coffee shops are my natural habitat. I'm quite small and get cold easily, but love sweater weather. My passions include cat/kitten rescue, reading, long walks, D&D, writing, and mental health advocacy. I write and edit for fun and profit, and I crochet to help manage my anxiety. I'm shy but friendly, and my family says I talk too fast. :p

In a partner, I love wordplay and being able to talk for hours, particularly about stories, but the most important thing is kindness (whether that's something that comes easily to them or something they work hard at). I'm happy to be the talker that draws someone else out, as long as they give me something back. My love languages are quality time and physical touch, but my partner's don't have to be exactly the same.

Monsterwise, I love creatures that are pretty but deadly (or misunderstood)—think vampires, faeries, ghosts, shapeshifters, demons—but honestly? Please just have fun with it; I can't wait to see what you come up with! As for NSFW-content, I'm happy either way and would rather you write what you're inspired to! I do love kisses, and I think I'd prefer more lime than lemon, if you go that way?”

You’ve been matched with a Futakuchi-Onna!

A futakuchi-onna, or "two-mouthed woman," is a type of Japanese monster characterized by their two mouths; a normal one located on her face and a second one on the back of the head beneath the hair. The origin of a futakuchi-onna's second mouth is often linked to how little a woman eats. In many stories, the soon-to-be futakuchi-onna is a wife of a miser and rarely eats. To counteract this, a second mouth mysteriously appears on the back of the woman's head. The second mouth often mumbles spiteful and threatening things to the woman and demands food. If it is not fed, it can screech obscenely and cause the woman tremendous pain. Eventually, the woman's hair begins to move like a pair of serpents, allowing the mouth to help itself to the woman's meals. While no food passes through her normal lips, the mouth in the back of her head consumes twice what the other one would.

TW: Eating Disorder, Abuse, Mental Illness, Hospitalization

“Cute girl!”

“Shut up!”

You looked up from the counter at your favorite cafe and tried to find the source of the voices, but you only saw one woman sitting alone by the window. You could tell when you looked at her that she had been staring at you and had looked away just as your eyes met.

“Talk to her! She’ll leave!”

“Stop it!”

“Hey,” You said, walking over. “Are you okay?”

She sighed and looked up with a strained smile. She was Asian and very pretty, with long, dark hair flowing down her back, though she seemed rather thin, perhaps unhealthily so.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” She said. “I have… a… growth or something.”

“That talks?” You asked.

“Unfortunately,” She replied, turning in her seat. Her hair lifted of its own accord and sitting among the tresses was a mouth, identical to the one on her face, except with sharp teeth.

“Hallo!” It said at you.

You blinked in surprise. “Well then.”

“Yeah, sorry,” She said with a sigh. “I used to hide it, but it’s gotten so loud lately that it’s just easier to explain and wait for people to run off.”

“Well… I mean, it’s unusual, but I don’t see why people would run off in this day and age.”

“If people look human and then aren’t, it weirds people out.”

“I get that, I guess,” You said, sitting down. “So, does it have a mind of it’s own?”

“No, no, it’s just says what I’m thinking but don’t normally say out loud.”

“So you think I’m cute?”

She looked up in shock and blushed hard. “Oh… I was hoping you hadn’t heard that.”

“You’re pretty cute, too, you know,” You said, smiling. “Can I buy you a coffee?”

“Oh!” She said, a surprised, shy smile creeping across her face. “Yeah, thanks, that would be wonderful.”

Her name was Kyoko and she was a yokai, or Japanese demon. She’d apparently once been human and became a demon over time, which is something that happens pretty regularly to both humans and animals in Japan. By the end of having coffee, you’d left with her number and a promise to see each other again.

The two of you went on a few dates together, and it was about a month before you realized something: you’d never seen her eat. Not once. Maybe as a yokai, she didn’t need to eat, but you’d seen her drink coffee and tea and things, so you weren’t sure. You decided to ask her about it.

On your next date, you went to a local park to feed some ducks. The mouth on her head was chattering incoherently. It was doing that more often, you noticed

“Hey, Kyoko?” You began, throwing out some peas and corn for the ducks to peck at. “Can I ask you something kinda personal?”

“Yeah, sure,” She said, holding out a handful of oats.

“Why don’t you eat?”

“Hungry!” The voice in the back of her head said.

“Stop!” She said, smacking the mouth lightly. She took a heavy breath. “I’m a futakuchi-onna. Do you know how my kind are created?”

“No,” You replied.

“It happens after years of under-eating and malnourishment,” She said. “In stories, it’s usually a stingy, selfish husband that causes a woman’s suffering, but for me it was my mom.”

“What do you mean?”

“My mom used to make fun of me because of my weight. I wasn’t even that overweight, but she decided when I was really young that I needed to diet and start fasting. She would make me not eat for days, and then feed me broth twice a day to make me lose weight quickly. She used to say that if I wasn’t thin and pretty, no one would ever love me and that I’d never be worth anything. Around my eighteenth birthday, the mouth appeared. My mom kicked me out when she found out I was a monster.”

“You’re not a monster, Kyoko. Your mother is.” You took her hand and squeezed it. “Why has it been getting so loud recently?”

She looked away. “I haven’t been very nice to myself recently. The mouth eats at night when I’m asleep, so I don’t eat during the day because I don’t want to gain weight.”

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten anything while you were awake?”

She shrugged. “Two weeks?”

Your mouth dropped in shock. “Kyoko, that’s not good! Are you seeing anyone about this? Like a therapist? This is an illness and needs to be treated.”

“I know,” She said, ashamed. “But I don’t want anyone to judge me or…” She stopped when her hair grabbed a handful of the oats and stuffed it in the mouth. “Stop it!”

“Come on,” You said, getting up off the ground and holding out your hands. “We’re going to the hospital.”

“What?” She said. “Why the hospital?”

“You need help now,” You told her. “I’ve been concerned about you since the day we met and this just confirms my fears. I don’t think we should wait.”

“Will you stay with me?” She asked, beginning to cry.

“Of course I will,” You said, pulling her into a tight hug. Her hair wrapped around you. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The doctors discovered that Kyoko was thirty pounds underweight and immediately recommended that she enter an inpatient rehab facility. Kyoko sobbed but agreed to go. You swore you would visit her as often as they would let you.

The two of you visited at least twice a week and talked to each other on the phone every day. Despite the fact that you couldn’t be with each other while she was in treatment, you’d grown very close during that time. After sixty days, she was released. She had lost her apartment during the time she was in rehab, so you moved all her things into your apartment and asked her to stay.

You went to pick her up and take her home, and she threw herself at you, laying a big kiss on your lips. It was the first kiss the two of you had. She looked radiant.

“How are you feeling?” You asked.

“Better,” She said. “The mouth hasn’t spoken in weeks and the staff said it quit trying to sneak food days ago.”

“That’s wonderful, babe, I’m so proud of you.” You gave her another kiss and set her down, taking her hand and squeezing it. “Let’s go home.”

To get your own Monster Match, buy me a Kofi!

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider becoming a Patron or donating directly to my PayPal.

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Monster Match #Exophilia #Monster Girlfriend #Yokai #Futakuchi Onna

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scribeofmorpheus · 4 years ago

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Himmeløyne [25/?]

Pairing: Loki Odinson x Reader

Catch Up Here | Masterlist

Warnings: Violence / Angst???

A/N: ...

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment or leave a like please ☺

~Y/N

“You shouldn’t be here,” Loki said.

Shivers ran up your spine. For the first time since you knew him, he looked terrified. Helpless.

The Creature—the monster—that materialised from the mist inched closer. Its steady pace was unnerving, like pinpricks to the skin.

You took Loki’s hand in yours, felt his grip, ironclad, and said, “Right here is exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

He smiled sheepishly, “Then our reunion was fated to be a short one.” He glanced at the creature, at its eyes, and clenched his jaw as tightly as his muscle could allow. He took an instinctual step back, pulling you behind him. “There’s no escaping it.”

You turned to the creature, unsure of what it was entirely that you sensed from it. It wasn’t fear—at least, not your own. Not hate either. Though it was masked in those emotions well. There was a drive behind its instinct, a purpose. Keenly aware of the fact you still had your magic, you let your magic do the searching where vision failed you. Tendrils of energy waned as if something unseen was pushing back, resisting. You planted your feet, took a deep breath and blocked out everything except the creature. There was familiarity there. A sense of pain. Grief. A broken heart.

Bestla’s words rippled back to you, reminding you of what she had said about Loki, “Loki is a fraught boy. Torn apart by two halves that will always be at war.”

A tendril of magic managed to touch the creature and incoherent flashes distracted you, making you lose balance.

With a grunt, you and Loki were both flung back, the wind knocked out of you. You rolled from your side and noticed the creature was undeterred from his path. A strong magical barrier surrounded it.

The creature lunged, its bone and flesh sword for a hand tearing the seams of Loki’s subconscious world.

You had to get Loki away from the creature, find a way to reassure him, give him room to process everything in safety. As long as the creature was a stone’s throw away, you wouldn’t be able to help him. “How do we escape it?”

Loki turned to you, downcast, “We don’t. I’ve never escaped it.” He looked at his hands. “I have no powers here.”

“But I do,” you forged a connection to his subconscious through your linked hands. “Think of a place, a memory, anywhere you feel safe. I’ll take you there!”

The creature neared and Loki’s mind flooded with too many images, too many years condensed into a barrage of smells and touch, hot and cold, emotion and emptiness. Steeling yourself, you clung onto the strongest sensation: smell. Berries. A burst of blue and purple. Warmth from an oven. A hug.

Instantly, the both of you were sucked into a portal of light, teleported deeper into Loki’s mind. Before the portal shut, the creature let out a roar, snagging skin from your elbow as it slashed and slashed in a frenzy. You seethed from the surprising burn of its cold touch.

You were thrust forward and wrenched back, a tension to your muscles, adrenaline soaking tissue. Your magic sparked, and you lost your bearing. When the world stopped spinning, you were in a kitchen, not the human kind with a hearth and cast iron pots, but Asgardian. Polished stones greeted your feet while gold embellishments decorated everything; curtains, fine dishes, the liquid within crystal clear tumblers.

“Where… where are we?” you glance around, unfamiliar with your surroundings.

Out from a blind spot, two boys darted into the kitchen area. Frigga followed soon after, a youthful blush on her face, hair the colour of magnificent straw. The boys played with wooden swords, clashing in a dull thud. Laughter keeping the room vibrant. The boy with the sandy hair yelped, and before your eyes, his wooden sword transformed into a snake, slithering away.

The raven-haired boy turned ghostly pale, frightened by what he’d just done. He clenched his fists in horror. Frigga calmed him, a sweet smile on her face as she ran her fingers through his hair. She hesitated for a moment before she hunkered low to hug both her sons. Soon after, a baker walked into the room with a silver tray of pastries. Blackish filling spilt over the folds, the smell of citric berries permeated into the space like a blanket, sweet and tart.

“Home,” Loki said. A look of longing crept over his face, a slouch to his shoulders. “I remember this day… This was the day before Father had taken us to the vault to tell us stories, of our grandfather, of the war…the Giants. Mother had asked the baker’s to make her favourite pies. We helped her pick the berries from a thicket near the edge during the day. It was the first time I used transformation magic. I was so scared. So was Thor. But not Mother… she just held us till we stopped crying. Made us feel safe in her embrace. She said I got my magic from her. That we were born under the same stars. Blessed by the same spirits.”

You placed a hand on his back and he leaned into the contact. “It seems like a happy memory.”

“Many of them were… before…” he turned to look away from the homely scene unfolding. “They were my family. My blood.”

The child version of him smiled with pie filling smeared over his round cheeks. You recognised Baldrick in his features. Slight, but distinct. The same dark hair and wide eyes. An impression more than anything.

“They still are,” you said.

“They are not my family…” he sneered, clicking his tongue. “And after what I’ve done, they couldn’t forgive me. I wouldn’t forgive me.”

“You did nothing wrong.”

“I have done plenty wrong!”

You flinched, his anger turning the room cooler, snuffing out the air, closing you in. Mist crawled onto the windows, and, suddenly, you knew. This feeling—this dread—it had been warped around the creature too, preventing you from fully penetrating its barrier. That same magic now surrounded Loki. More apparent after his outburst.

“Not from where I’m standing,” you said. “Perhaps there is much you need to take responsibility for, but not this”—you placed your hand on his chest, felt the thrum of his heart—“not for who you are…what you are.”

“They lied to me! Made me think I was one of them. Hid my birth rite from me. Hid me,” he shouted. “I’m a monster!”

The mist had enveloped all the windows now. Cracks spread like veins. A chill wracked through the air.

You ignored the foreboding signs and kept your focus on Loki, “By that logic, so am I.”

His eyes snapped up meet yours, his lower lip trembling. “Not you. Never you.”

Your heart ached at his words. “I’ve taken life… Life that I now see was more than a simple monster made real from under my bed.”

Recognition flashed across his face, “The Giant in Jotunheim. The one who...”

You nodded, slowly. “Yes.”

“But he took something from you,” Loki held your shoulders, speaking in haste as he shook you. “You deserved vengeance. And wanting it… that doesn’t make you a monster.”

You let out a sigh, somehow feeling older as you did it, feeling the heft of another’s life—of Bestla’s life. “Only because something had been taken from him, too. Something that was rightly his.” A sad smile came over you. “Do you know what he said before I killed him? He said his kind were always the villains in my stories. I never thought much of it, at the time. But then I met someone…your grandmother. She told me things, about the Great Wars, the histories of the Giants, the truth. And I see now…”

Loki rambled, taken aback by what you said. "My... grandmother? H-How? When? I—I don't..."

The creature materialised into the room, stone walls exploding into flecks. It growled and Loki stiffened. He was about to pull you away, but you stopped him, mustering all your magic to urge the Jotun beneath his pale skin to surface. His breath hitched as he staggered, fighting the process. You kept watching as the creature continued on its approach. You had a few seconds at best.

“I see now that there’s more than one side to any story. And war… war destroys more than the past. It takes history. It takes truth. It makes martyrs out of monsters and monsters out of martyrs. Makes kings. Destroys empires. Breeds hate. And these effects ripple out, for generations. You and I are but small grains of sand taken by the whims of the past, struggling to be still.”

“What are you—” Loki’s eyes went wide, making him look so small, so human, as his blue skin surfaced. You trailed along his arm, magic between the two of you building with a charge. With possibilities. He shuddered, taking a few deep breaths to centre himself, to grow used to his reflection in your eyes.

“And this is my truth…” you kissed him gently as the mist clung to your robes and feet. “I love you, Loki, Son of Asgard, Last Prince of Jotunheim... Trickster God. I love all of you. And I bent the world to save you, but the truth is, you aren’t lost, you’re running away.”

The creature lunged, and the wind died out. The creature’s shadow fell behind Loki. From over his shoulder, you could see it raise its arm high, ready to strike… ready to kill.

“It’s time to face who you are…” you whispered.

The creature struck. Loki shouted your name, cradling you close. There was a boom. A rush of air followed by a harrowing silence.

Loki stumbled backward, shocked. All around him were shards of ice, suspended in the darkness until it receded back from where it came. In the light, the creature sloughed away, like fungus being scraped off wood. The layers turned to snowflakes and dispersed all around you. Under the rage and strength of the creature was Loki’s double, pale skinned, blue eyed.

You walked over to Loki’s double and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Do you see now? Do you see what you were running from?”

Loki paced from left to right, never letting his eyes leave his double. Then he took a step forward, mouth agape, the reality of everything dawning over him. “It was me.”

“You blame yourself for everything. For what happened to my village and what happened to me in the throne room. I suspect you’ve always done so. Resolved yourself to hate the part of you that was different. That was hidden. And that part of you, stricken by self-loathing and doubt, guilt and grief, remained buried here, in the depths of your mind, alone. Apart from you. And when you went under, you could no longer supress him. But after the throne room, those feelings grew in your subconscious, giving form to the very thing you feared. The Jotun in you. The Giant. The monster of your stories.”

“N—No… I—It can’t be.” Loki shook his head, conflicted.

You held out your hand for him to take, “Do you trust me?

He nodded, at a loss for words.

“Then connect them, the two pieces that have been separated for so long. Accept the truth,” you delicately ushered him closer to his double who just blinked, expression empty, hollow.

As the two Lokis stood face to face and the world shook. You took several steps back and watched as Loki put his hand up. His double mirrored his action. When they joined palms, a torrent of emerald light streamed outward, both cold and hot all at once. As bright as a star. As piercing as an arrow. Everything melted out of view until it was only you and him, the illusion of a night sky forming in the background.

He stood close, his smile not quite right. Snaking his arms around you, he held you flush to his chest. You looked up, chin resting on his chest. Finally, you were home.

“Thank you,” he whispered before kissing you. The kiss was life affirming, as though he was saying a thousand things in a single act. You kissed him back, lips tenderly caressed by his own.

A swell flourished in your belly. Warmth you hadn’t felt since the last time you were in his arms flooded back. It was joy. You gasped as that feeling of solace returned from where it had been stripped away. Elated that you could feel his magic again. Feel him again. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you could finally breathe again. Be at ease again.

“I—” Loki steadied himself, as though he were about to speak the world apart. “I—”

But before he could finish, you felt a third presence tunnel its way to your subconscious. A message warning you from the other side, from the woken world. It felt like Heimdall’s magic. And it was filled with desperation. “Wait! Heimdall… Something’s wrong!”

“I feel it too,” Loki said.

You felt yourself being pulled from the world, out and through. The world adapted to the invasion. Tears of reality blended into the space.

The voice of a guard shouted, “Captain! She’s resisting. We can’t separate them!”

“Pull harder!” the captain shouted back, her voice heated and coarse like lit charcoal.

Through the tears, you saw the healing chamber. Heimdall and the rest of your companions were defeated, huffing for air. They were being ushered out of the room in shackles. The resisted to no avail, dragged out one by one by the guards in shining armour.

Through the distortion, and past the ebbing flow of sound, you saw Odin enter the room. He carried a familiar tome in his hands. Bestla’s amulet!

You had forgotten that you’d left it in Heimdall’s care. Odin must have taken it from him as he was being dragged away.

“I haven’t seen this in a long, long time,” Odin said wistfully. His thumb brushed against the bird bones, beads catching light from the golden castle. He whispered to the captain, the amulet trading hands between them, from his to hers. Spine bent, Odin took his leave.

The Captain narrowed her eyes at you, and, had you been in your body, present and aware in all senses, you were certain you would have taken a step back.

The captain loomed closer, the tug of so many unfamiliar hands on your wrists and elbows. She shouted again, but the world phased and her sound never reached your ears.

With a dimmer, Loki’s world had begun to flitter out of view.

Sensing this, he drew you close, desperate to have you hear his next words. His lips moved with fervour, words spilling out harried and muffled, incomprehensible. The outside world grew louder. More real. Loki tried to hold onto you, but you felt his hold on you slip away.

With a mind splitting headache, your body greeted your subconscious in the woken world. A wave of exhaustion washed over you as you were overpowered by the guards.

Loki, awakened, reached for you again as he shouted for the guards to desist. Some took a moment to consider, conflicted, but the captain silenced them with a look.

Loki struggled to keep his feet steady. The weeks suspended in the chamber had taken their toll on his body. It was spent. Just like his mind.

“I am Loki, Prince of Asgard, I command you to release her immediately!” he said, anger sparked within his eyes. He motioned to summon his magic, to use a spell to fend off the heavy men with heavy grips.

Softly, you shook your head. Speaking low enough for just his ears, “No! Loki… No more violence.”

“Hold her still,” the captain ordered. You were wrenched further back. Loki was still reaching for you, just a little out of reach, staggering with weak knees.

“I’ll make this right!” he swore. “I promise. I’ll make it right.”

With a grimace, the captain placed Bestla’s amulet close to your neck and it came alive, a will of its own as it twined uncomfortably around your neck.

“Wai—”You recoiled from the deadened aura of the amulet. Once it settled in place, you fought the urge to cough. The amulet’s distinct lack of presence overpowered you. It made you limp and you felt sparse. Lacking. No magic. No warmth. Eyelids as heavy as boulders. The strength to stand seeming impossible in the moment. It was worse than the leeching. At least that came with pain, with something.

“Take her below,” the captain said before turning her sights on Loki and ushering a few healers into the space. “The prince needs assistance. Hurry.”

Woozy, everything seemed far, far away. The drag of your feet away from the healing chamber came with less resistance. Loki shrunk in your peripheral, still staggering to close the gap.

#loki #loki imagine #loki x reader #loki odinson #loki mcu #loki x y/n #tom hiddelston imagine #marvel #himmeløyne #reader insert

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just2bubbly · 4 years ago

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Longings and Comm

Masterlist

Summary

"I swear if I could come, I would have been near you in a heartbeat."

Absence always seems to make the heart grow fonder and Cinder and Kai are no different in this vast expanse. After a busy day at work with Lunars, Cinder relies on Kai to make her smile but what happens when unexpected inquiries are made and feelings are slipped off.

Ship: Kaider

Words: 1502 words

Cinder's Perspective

She was so done with everyone. Every single one of them and this headache was killing her and unlike her usual headaches caused as a result of grief. This one was a real fucking headache caused because of annoyance and extreme anger.

She did something very un-queenly, like shouting in her chambers with a colourful string of swear words going in her mind.

1.2.3.4

Like every meeting that had ever happened, this was nothing different. Well, except for the appearances of lunar aristocrats. As if the stars surrounding her knew exactly what she wanted, Kai commed with such perfect timings that she wondered if Iko was behind this. If she was, may God bless her best friend, her only true companion on this entire dreary planet.

"Thank Goodness you commed. I am so angry-"

He chuckled at her loud outburst, mildly interrupting her. She would have glared if it was anyone else but Kai. However, the voice of his chuckle was enough to calm her down.

"Welcome to Royalty Queen Selene!"

"Stop saying it as if I have won a lottery ticket to visit Earth"

"So is that what you are missing? Earth?" he asked with a smirk tugging at his lips.

"You would know," she said, awaiting him to smile one of those shy smiles reserved for her.

"Kai! I miss Earth and people who can't perform bio-electric manipulation. Heck, you don't know how lucky you are! "

"Why?" he asked, his eyebrows quirking as his curiosity peeked in.

"Well, there are many reasons..." she was going to narrate each one of it to him unless he said otherwise.

Noting her long pause for permission, he granted, "Start Cinder, I'm all ears for you today."

'Ah! This guy was too good for his own self' she seemed to exclaim inside her head.

"Let's start then. I would say sit down as there is a long list of reasons. Firstly, these obnoxious Lunars- they are obsessed with fashion and by fashion, I mean an eerie sense of fashion. My eyes are hurt by just looking at them and that's not my individual statement, even Iko agrees. Plus, my cybernetics and the device goes haywire on me trying to pinpoint their true looks every time I glance at them; making it extremely difficult to focus. Secondly, their love to change appearances, like someone might be having blonde hair today and tomorrow they might turn out bald or something like that. I have a hard time remembering people, providing that I have cybernetics it is saying something. I can look through their glamour and see their true appearances but even then I have a hard time recalling them like hell, Luna needs some form of a database so that I or the computer in my brain can memorize all of them. At least earthen leaders have the decency to come dressed up in proper attire. Lunars, one man showed up in pyjamas to the cabinet meetings." She huffed and stopped to catch her breath.

Seeing that she was somewhat done with her ramble for the day, she groaned for what felt like the umpteenth time in the day.

"You have it bad, Cin, I absolutely agree but c'mon you have me and other people to complain to. Besides, how are you?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Sorry to waste your time with my problems. I should not rant like this but my aristocrat citizens are chaotic and useless who loathe agreeing with me." She grumbled.

"You are not alone actually. Vargas and Camilla gave me a headache today but thanks to you I at least have one thing less to worry about"

"And that is?" she inquired.

"Letumosis and Levana, Cinder. How do you seem to forget that you are the revolutionary?" he teasingly asked. It was not like she was fetching compliments just because she was the one who killed Levana. The fact that she was the revolutionary often slipped from her mind if not for Thorne's remarks and a few graceful acknowledgements here and there.

"My court tells me otherwise!"

"Don't listen to those lunar fools, Cinder. You are THE revolutionary. Hero of the entire universe-"

"Stop praising me like some goddess" she cut off him shortly before he decided to go into a full-blown speech about how wonderful she was. Believe her; he had done that at the last annual Peace ball before everyone.

"Besides Emperor how could you call lunars fools before the Queen of Luna? You have lost your fine touch of diplomacy Kaito."

"Well just the way you called them and I quote 'obnoxious Lunars' before a few moments. And don't you worry I'm not losing my fine diplomatic touch anytime sooner. "He joked along.

"Good, it would be a shame if you did." She exclaimed adding to their playful banter.

Soon they fell into a comfortable silence. She had forgotten about her worries, for the time being, thanks to Kai and his very charismatic personality.

"How are you?"

"Uh?" he looked confused because of her out of the blue question.

"I meant how you are doing, like not the meetings and world leaders but just you!" she clarified. It was not likely of Cinder to generally indulge in talking about emotions with anyone. However, Kai had patiently listened to her ramble so she could hear his inner turmoil if any as well.

"Oh," He said for having nothing else to say. Taking his time to answer, he sighed, "I am good, maybe. I dunno, I have never been asked about just myself like this before. I am satisfied with my lot but responsibilities make me jittery. Even then I have Torin who assists me, I am so thankful for having him. Other than that I have a sickening feeling every time I have to attend meetings with world leaders. Yet I am happier in my place than ever before. I know this sounds weird and unintelligible- " He inhaled sharply, stopping in his track, bitting onto his lips.

"Don't worry, Kai. I completely understand the feeling." She assured him. He had completely moved into pessimism within few seconds. Behind the glorious facade of being royalty, sadness and despair are what remains hidden for a long time. Cinder completely understood how it felt to have everything yet feel unhappy about something that you could never have.

She had missed his moist copper-brown eyes but his swiftly moving to rub away the moisture from them did not go unnoticed.

"Hey, it's okay, Kai," she consoled.

She said in a comforting voice, wishing to be near him and just hug him tightly while he cries his heart out.

"No, no. I'm sorry I just feel like crap for a few days and I miss you." He mumbled, his voice becoming husky,

"I miss you too, Kai. I swear if I could come, I would have been near you in a heartbeat." She said, as her synthetic heart continued to long to touch him.

There was some commotion on his end.

"Your Majesty" someone called for him.

"Cinder, I'm sorry to end on a sad note but I have to go. I am fine, don't worry, I will call you tomorrow or maybe tonight, what time is it?" he asked.

"It's 2200 here."

"Okay, so I will call you tomorrow without fail, but sorry now that I have to leave. I am sorry to sadden you with all my feelings-"

"Stop apologizing, Kai. It's completely fine. Besides, it's okay to let it out from time to time."

He was called urgently by someone in the background; making him quicken his pace as he mumbled incoherent words to her.

"I miss you, call you back later. Love-" he said as the comm was ended by him. He had failed to complete his sentence and she contemplated if she should comm him again just to hear him finish his words. However, that would be a foolish thing to do when he seemed to be in so much hurry.

"Love you too, Kai." She said for the ears who would not hear it.

A/N: This was supposed to be fluff, but things took a new turn and I could not undo it. To be honest, I can't imagine Kai and Cinder going through their two years apart relationship without slipping 'I miss you' in any and every conversations.

Your views will be very much appreciated! Be sure to like, reblog and comment if you like it! Tell me if you wanna be tagged!

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amaamajiki · 5 years ago

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| primal | todoroki natsuo X reader {smut}

In which Natsuo has an ugly encounter with his father and he needs to relief some tension, so he goes a bit feral with his girlfiend...

Did someone ask for this? Absolutely fucking not

Did that stop me from writing my longest smut to the date becaus I’m thirsty for Natsuo? Of course not.

This is fucking long, so you’ve been warned, also there’s a tiny bit of fluff at the end, anyways, enjoy the product of my lusting.

- Mara

He’s desperate, frantic hands roam through your body as soon as you open the door and his lips kiss you hungrily, cold eyes staring into yours so intense that it feels like the kind of cold in December that burns right through your core.

“N-Natsuo, what is it?” You try to ask, breathing into his neck as he’s busy hastily removing your top, deft fingers quickly removing your bra and squeezing your nipples between his calloused fingertips.

“Nothing”. He huskily groans against your pulse point as he sucks a patch of your skin into what you’re sure will become a mark.

“H-Hold on,” you breath, while trying to ignore the relentless assault at your nipples. “Something’s obviously bothering you, so why don’t you just spit it out”.

He separates himself from your neck adamantly, perverted intent all over his face. “This is me working on it”.

And just like that he dives once again, his lips now tracing a path downwards by the expanse of your stomach, he stops for a second to nibble at the soft flesh at the hem of your jeans. His advances are leaving a trace of goosebumps on your skin, and he’s pulling at your pants with so much force that your knees buckle for a second. Finally he rips them off from your legs and the sight of him kneeling to inhale the scent from your apex has you holding your breath.

His nose presses against your panties and you can feel them dampen when Natsuo presses the tip of his nose against your clit and you can’t help the whimper that scapesps your lips.

“What happened, don’t you wanna say anything else”. He taunts, and you’re about to answer when he moves the thin cotton layer that’s covering your sex to the side. He dives in without a warning, like a man who’s been thirsty for a thousand years.

There’s something raw and primitive in the way he drinks your juices, brutal tongue delving so deep into you that your breathing begins to falter, he laps and sucks in an almost feral way, the strong grip of his hands clenching against your ass, slick and hungry noises filling the air, when he begins to tease your clit with the tip of his tongue you begin to mewl, your hands holding onto his head, the soft tresses of his hair caresing your fingers.

Natsuo prides himself on the way your lips have begun to quiver and his right palm surprises you when it slaps against the supple flesh of your ass. You can actually feel him grin against your core and when he parts from your flesh you whimper in distress.

He looks up at you, pure lust darkening his eyes, and the sight of his chin and lips covered in your juices is almost enough to finish you off.

“I know you were close, your pussy was twitching against my lips”. His words are pure filth, but you can’t help the spark of heat that travels right towards your clit.

“You’re always so desperate for me, (Y/N)” He assentuates his words with a gentle nibble in your inner thigh, oh, so close to the center of your need, his hot breath hitting your sex and making you clamp your legs together, looking for any kind of relieve that you can get.

“I can smell your arousal (Y/N), aren't you ashamed of being so desperate?” There’s mockery in his tone, and perversion in his eyes, but you can’t deny that you love him like this: so hungry and primal.

“Natsuo,” You whisper, your nails raking through his scalp as you shamelessly pull him towards your center again. “Please”.

“Fuck, you’re impossible”: He groans as he delves into your folds once again, this time his ministrations solely focused on over stimulating your engorged clit, he’s sucking and tapping against it and you can’t think of anything else that it isn’t Natsuo and the way his hands grip your tights as if he doesn’t ever plan to let you go. And he sucks at it just the right way and you can feel yourself coming undone, the strength of your orgasm leaving you empty of everything but pure white pleasure, and Natsuo just keeps lapping at your juices as you come down from nirvana, savoring the way your pussy clenches in his mouth.

He stands up all too quickly and before you’re back from your orgasm he’s kissing you, it’s sloppy and deep and you can taste yourself in his tongue and he moans into your mouth when you pull him by the collar of his shirt.

But then you feel it, two thick fingers caressing your already over sensitive entrance, and Natsuo marvels at the way your walls clench around him when he enters, he fills you up so effortlessly and his fingers reach so deep inside you that it should be illegal.

Spongy tissue is caressed and you begin to pant, everything’s too much and you tilt your head backwards, the pleasure too overwhelming, then his thumb frantically assaults your clit and you can feel it before it happens, you’re coming on his fingers once again, but it feels different and all too familiar at the same time and you can feel the explosion of your heat travel through your tights into Natsuo’s hand.

Your second orgasm is too much, the pleasure is too intense and the fact that you know that you squirted all over Natsuo fingers makes the heat travel through your body, you feel your body go limp but Natsuo’s quick embrace holds you before you can fall.

“I’m sorry (Y/N), but I’m not done with you just yet”. He lifts you effortlessly, and as always it amazes you how strong he is, you’re still dizzy from your last orgasm but when he pushes you against the nearest couch you can feel your insides burn in excitement.

The drag of his zipper being undone reaches your ears, and his hands are quick to re accommodate your body, face pushed against the soft cushions of the sofa and your ass perked up in the air, Natsuo grips your hips with a possessive crushing strength and when the tip of his member teases your entrance you hear yourself whimper.

“I can still see your pussy clenching (Y/N), but you’re gonna take my cock, right?” He accentuates his question with a stroke of his shaft against your clit and you feel yourself buckle involuntary against him.

“That’s what I thought”. He whispers in your ear, one hand gently massaging the space between your blades, the other one firmly grabbing your at your hip. He enters in one swift movement, and his thickness leaves you breathless for a moment, it doesn’t matter how many times you’ve taken him, he’s always too big.

His strong frame leans over your, and he relishes on the warm and tightness of your channel, nothing else matters, nothing but you and the way you clench on him, and then you whimper his name and he loses it, strong brutal thrusts drive his pace, you’re always such a perfect fit for him, always so responsive and needy, he just can’t get enough of your muffled moans.

His skin slaps against your ass, making for a perfect sound to accompany his groans and low whimpers, your face is buried against the cushions, his shaft hitting you in just the right spot, you know you won’t last long, you’re already too sensitive and when Natsuo pulls your head upwards, the strength of his fist pulling you by the hair he almost comes undone, your face is contorted in a soundless moan.

His hand spanks against the already reddened skin of your ass and he can feel you clench around him, he’s driven by pure instinct and the need to see you come again, so he thrusts even harder, his arm coming to snake around your waist, the warm supple flesh of your navel being everything he needs.

And he can feel his orgams come over him, he feels it so close that he keeps rutting into you, one hand coming to rub against your abused clit and you begin to plead and mewl and there are tears streaming down your cheeks, face contoured by pure pleasure.

“Pleasepleaseplease...” You mutter, a litany of incoherencies coming from your mouth and your insides tighten around him and you begin to pump him, his orgasm hitting him so hard that he stops breathing for a second, still driving into you to make sure everything comes out.

It takes the two of you a while to come down from your high, the two of you simply lounging in the couch, limbs entangled and sweaty bodies pressed against each other. Natsuo is holding you in a way that his head is resting against your chest while you gently caress the side of his face.

“I’m sorry,” He mumbles after what seems hours of silence,”I needed it”.

“You saw him, didn’t you?”

“It’s just… everyone seems so ready to forgive him, and I want my brother and sister to be happy but…” His voice grows sour and low.

“I know”. You hold him tightly, as there’s nothing else you can do to cure Natsuo’s scars because of his father, even when you’ve give anything to alleviate him from his burden. “You don’t have to forgive him if you don’t want too”.

“I know”, he says, his voice gaining force and a calmer tone, “It’s just” he sighs, “It’s all messed up”.

“I’m messed up” you try the waters, checking if you manage to take his mind off his father even for a second.

He chuckles lowly, and the rumble of it makes his back rise a little.

“Sorry again, but I regret nothing”. He looks at you with a tint or mischief and a tint of tenderness that engulfs you whole, and you feel so much anger against Endeavour for ever hurting Natsuo like this that you feel it coming off of yourself in waves.

“Fuck him.” you mutter quietly.

Natsuo chuckles again, and he nuzzles his head into your neck, “Fuck him”.

[ If you enjoy my writing please reblog & comment, remember that feedback keeps writers motivated ]

#writings #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #bnha headcanons #todoroki natsuo #todoroki natsuo x reader #natsuo x reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut #bnha lemon #mha imagines #mha scenarios #mha headcanons #mha x reader #mha smut #todoroki x reader #bnha

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floatingpetals · 5 years ago

Text

Thief in the Night

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: literally all fluff

Word Count:2000+

Summary: She tried to talk to him about it. It’s been an issue with Steve for as long as she could remember. But every night, it always ended the same.

A/N: There is like no plot to this lol. It’s just all fluffy goodness. I needed a little break from my series stuff and this just kinda crapped out. I hope you all enjoy! Please reblog and let me know what you think! ❤❤

Gifs not mine, credit to the creator!

Frigged cold air licked at her legs, instantly causing Y/N to curl up in a ball deep in her sleep. The sudden temperature changed made a frown to tug at her lips and her brows to crease. Her teeth started to chatter, and her body trembled as the chill set in. It didn’t take her long to wake with a start and blink groggily. In her haze, Y/N’s wondered just why the hell she was so freaking cold.

She groaned and stuck her hand out behind her, blindly reaching for the sheet and comforter she was one hundred percent certain she had wrapped around her when she fell asleep. She paused when she felt a lump behind her, a warm thoroughly wrapped up lump that was happily snoring away.

“Of course,” she grumbled.

Y/N rolled over to her back and glared at the back of her sleeping boyfriend beside her. Just because she couldn’t see his face, didn’t mean she wasn’t fully aware of the relaxed and unfazed expression on his face. Steve Grant Rogers had gone and done it again. Not like she could really get upset with him; he didn’t exactly mean to steal the sheets. But he was the reason the room was so stupid cold; Steve ran insanely hot at night for some reason and needed the air in the room to be cooler to not overheat. Y/N didn’t’ mind that. She did, however, not appreciate him stealing her comforters.

She glared for a moment longer before decided to take her comforter back. It took her a moment to find a way to wiggle under the covers, but once she did, she plastered herself to his back and wrapped her arms around his waist. Unsurprisingly, he was radiating heat like the massive furnace he was. He didn’t even flinch when she settled against him, his snores continued without missing a beat.

Well, that can’t do, Y/N thought to herself with a wicked grin. Nuzzling her nose into the crook of his neck and she let out a breathy sigh. She couldn’t hold back her grin as she shuffled her legs further under the sheets and pressed her frigid feet against his stupidly warm calves. At the same time, she slid her equally freezing hands up under his white t-shirt and shoved them up to rest on his pecks.

His reaction was instantaneous. His eyes flew open with a hiss and his body reflexively lurched to get away. Y/N giggled and tightened her grip around his chest and slid her feet up his legs.

“Jesus Christ!” He yelped when her freezing foot climbed up his thigh. He shot a hand out to stop her from going higher, his grip tight in warning. “Why are you so damn cold?!”

“Me?” Y/N counter indignantly. “You’re the butt munch who stole the sheets! Again!”

Steve bit his lip, the frustration of being woken up fading away when he took note of his position under the several layers of blankets. It was an old habit of his, from before the serum when he lost body heat regularly. Bucky always used to say he looked like he was in a cocoon whenever he’d spend the night on Bucky’s old couch. He didn’t realize how inconvenient it was until he started dating Y/N a year ago and they had the same outcome every night they spent together. Sighing, he unclenched and started unwrapping the blankets to drape over her behind him.

“’M sorry,” He murmured. Y/N snorted and snuggled closer against him. If she couldn’t get her own space, then fine. She’d cling like a koala and he’d lose his.

“I know you are.” She sighed and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. A purr rumbled in his chest, the soft-touch causing his eye to flutter close. One of his hands reached under his shirt to cover hers, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against the back of her hand. “Still doesn’t mean we’re gonna overlook your problem.”

Steve smirked and shook his head. He had a feeling this wasn’t gonna end that easily. She had already given him an earful about it a few nights ago before bed. He wasn’t intentionally ignoring her. It was a work in progress.

“I know.” He murmured. “I don’t mean to…”

Y/N hummed and let her head fall on the pillow. She let out a heavy sigh and tried to fall back asleep. Unfortunately, she knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. Once she was up, it took a long while for her to fall back asleep, unlike the thief in the night who could fall asleep on a dime. She hated that but also loved knowing it was because of her presence that Steve to felt safe enough to fall asleep so quickly. He had a lot of weight on his shoulders, so any help she could give, Y/N was happy for it.

However, for her, her brain just wouldn’t stop thinking. It was a constant buzz in the back of her head that no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t get it to shut up. Ever. Case in point, right now it kept asking the question what the hell made him still yank covers despite his temperature running higher than it used to be.

“Steve,” Y/N whispered. Steve answered with a teeny groan. Y/N pouted and tried again with a shimmy of her hips. “Steve.”

He didn’t respond and when he started to snore, Y/N knew he was back asleep. The giant jerk. Well, that just wouldn’t do. She was up because of him and he wasn’t getting away with it that easily. Gently tugging her hand from his grip, she reached down and dug her knuckled into his side between his rib cages. It wouldn’t hurt him, but it was a sure-fire way to wake him up. Steve snorted and jerked, his eyes flying open wide.

“Whas happened?” He slurred and blearily rubbed his eyes.

“I can’t sleep.” She stated simply. Steve grumbled and rolled over to face her in her arms. Unsurprisingly, he had an exhausted look on his face. It was clear how hard he was struggling to keep his heavy eyelids open.

“Aw, m’ sorry baby.” He cooed and raised a hand to rest on her cheek. Y/N watched amused as his eyelids drooped shut in seconds on relaxing into her bed. His hand fell with a soft smack on her cheek and Y/N couldn’t stop the laughter tumbling from her mouth. Steve jerked awake once again.

“Y/N,” He whined. Y/N giggled at his pout which only made her laugh harder. He grumbled under his breath and forced her face into the crook of his neck.

“Steve!” She snickered but didn’t fight his embrace. He shushed her halfheartedly and started to run his hand down the back of her head. Well, more like drug his heavy fingers down her head in a sleepy attempt to quiet her.

“Go to sleep,” He mumbled. Y/N scoffed.

“If only it was that easy.”

“It is. Just close your eyes and shhh….”

“But that’s not-,”

“Shh sh sh,” Steve interjected, his speech falling off as he slowly succumbed to sleep. Again.

Now her brain wouldn’t stop jumping from how she was going to wake him up again to what the hell she was going to wear tomorrow, to what she was going to have for lunch. Groaning softly under her breath, Y/N knew this was fruitless and started to wiggle out of Steve’s grip. Steve inhaled sharply, and sluggishly stirred as she shimmed off the bed.

“Where you goin’?” He called sleepily. Y/N stood at the end of the bed and looked over to Steve. He was utterly adorable, with the pile of blankets wrapped up around him and just his face peeking out of the mass as he squinted in the darkness to see her.

“I’m going to make some tea and maybe take some Benadryl so I can fall back asleep since someone was so kind and woke me up.”

Steve frowned and rolled over, mentally debating on whether he should get up to follow after her. The bed was colder without her, the safety blanket he had gone with her. Exhaling dramatically, Steve shoved the blankets off and grabbed one of the thick blankets on top to wrap around himself. Shuffling down the hall, Steve stopped at the entrance of the kitchen and watched Y/N start the electric kettle.

She was humming softly to herself, grabbing a bag of tea from the box in the pantry completely oblivious to the looming man behind her. Y/N turned around to go to where the mugs were and nearly flew out of her skin.

“Jesus!” Her squeaked and her hand flew to her chest. “What the hell?”

“You left me alone.” He pouted. Y/N sighed and rubbed her temple.

“I went-. I told-,” Taking in a deep breath, Y/N shook her head deciding it was best just to let it go. “Never mind. You’re lucky your cute.”

A soft smile grew on Steve’s face and a warm fuzzy feeling settle in his stomach. In the back of his mind, he knew she was poking fun at him, but he was going to take the compliment at face value. It was too early to be sarcastic back. He scuffled across the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Y/N waist. A sweet thought, but in his sleepy state, Steve wasn’t aware of how his body weight sagged down on her.

“O-okay,” Y/N staggered under his bulk. She braced her hands against the counter and spread her legs out keep from collapsing. “Steve, you can’t- I’m not equipped to carry you, baby.”

“Mhm.” Steve’s voice was muffled against her neck, but he didn’t move from his spot. He was comfy where he was.

“So… This is just our life now I guess?” Y/N teased. She couldn’t move even if she wanted to with his weight on her back and he only seemed to grow heavier the deeper he slipped into unconsciousness. The kettle went off, the shrill beeping pulling a pitiful groan from Steve in her ear. “Baby just go back to bed. You’re barely standing as it is. I’ll be there in a few minutes, I promise.”

He mumbled incoherently under his breath but gave in. He pressed a sloppy kiss to her neck, nearly missing the mark before he stumbled back to their share bedroom. Y/N giggled and made up her tea before she headed back to the room.

Steve had flicked on a lamp on Y/N’s side of the bed. She paused when she saw he spread the blankets out, putting a few extra on her spot, before crawling up underneath them. He was out like a light, his arm slung on her side of the bed snoring softly against the pile of pillows. Y/N melted at the sight, her lips turning up in a loving smile.

Y/N set her mug on the bedside table and slowly lifted his arm to shimmy underneath. His eyes fluttered open briefly and gave her a lopsided grin. Y/N smiled back and leaned down to press a kiss to his temple.

“Go to sleep,” Y/N whispered gently. Steve hummed and gently squeezed her hip. She had just sat up when she heard his snores once again. That punk, she thought jealously. Rolling her eyes, she grabbed her mug and settled in to be awake until her brain finally let her sleep. By the time she was able to drift to sleep, the tea was long gone, and her day was planned out down to the second. It was a good thing it was Friday and they didn’t have anything incredibly important to do the next day.

She flicked off the lamp and nestled in beside Steve with a happy sigh. Unconsciously, he pulled her close and nuzzled his face into her neck. A content sigh fell from his lips and he held her tight. She fell asleep with a happy smile against her blanket stealing boyfriend.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #reader insert #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine #captain america imagine #steve rogers fluff #captain america fluff #fluff #imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #fic

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aminiatureworld · 4 years ago

Text

The Music of the Night

Ship: Geralt x Jaskier

Warnings: Someone gets stabbed

Premise: The family goes to a music concert, courtesy of Jaskier, and Geralt gets to experience something he never has before.

Author’s Note: I was hoping to post every five days, but unfortunately with classes starting and the larger Medieval AU this fic was a long time coming. I was more liberal with Geralt and Jaskier being open about their feelings, or at least I tried to be.

Hope you enjoy this fanfic and thank you so much to the 42 people who liked my last Geraskier fanfic as well as the 6 people who reblogged it. Know that every single one of you contribute so much to my happiness and my determination to continue writing!

Notes about pieces, historical accuracy, and other such things in end note. Ao3 link in reblog

“Alright, are we ready to go?” Yennefer shouted down the hall. Geralt ground his teeth, staring at the array of weapons laid out in front of him. It was a very important night, one that Jaskier hadn’t shut up about for the better part of three months. A guild of musicians was in a town neighboring Yennefer’s newest stronghold, and the house’s resident bard had been adamant that this would be a perfect family outing, and that no one was getting out of it. This hadn’t entirely been surprising, and Geralt had begrudgingly agreed to the whole endeavor, not being a huge fan of enclosed crowds. When he’d realized that maybe going to a concert unarmed in the middle of what could only be described as the Continent losing its collective mind was a bad move, his intensely minute planning, something that both Yennefer and Jaskier teased him mercilessly about since he’d properly brought Ciri into the family, had spun out of control. Now there the Witcher was, staring at the various knives, daggers, swords, and other miscellaneous weapons that he’d found lying around the house, wondering which to take and which to leave. The two usual swords were among the bunch, of course, but somehow Geralt knew that Jaskier wouldn’t take kindly to them being brought, something along the lines of ruining the atmosphere. Still, he had to bring something and as the banging in the hall grew louder Geralt wondered how he’d ever easily made up his mind about arming himself before.

“Geraltttt!” Jaskier’s voice came singing down the hall, followed almost immediately by the banging of the door. Rushing over, he planted a quick kiss on Geralt’s cheek, something which never failed to bring on a blush, and shook his head excitedly. “You look lovely in everything darling, I promise no one will be in the mood to glare.” Geralt smiled fondly, if a bit exasperatedly, at the bard, before shaking his head.

“That’s not it. I, well, was trying to choose.” He gestured towards the table and Jaskier, turning around and surveying the paraphernalia, nodded thoughtfully.

“Hmm… tough choice.” He brought his hand to his chin for a moment, before his eyes lit up and he picked up a dirk sheathed in black leather. “I’ll take this one!” Checking to confirm the blade was indeed steel, Jaskier smiled up at the, admittedly baffled, Geralt, who couldn’t understand the bent that Jaskier was taking.

“Jaskier, I-”

“Oh and of course the others will need something too!” Jaskier scurried into the hallway. “Guys!! Geralts got his weapons laid out, better get one!” There was an incoherent reply from Yennefer, and the quick footsteps of Ciri, who, running into the room, grabbed a thin knife, this one wrapped in ordinary leather with green silk woven into the hilt, an old gift from a grateful pawnshop owner if Geralt could remember right. Geralt frowned as Ciri ran back out of the room, but before he could raise a protest Yennefer had waltzed in, scanned the table, and ran off with an elegant dagger, a whirling pattern built into the blade. Geralt immediately gave a grunt of protest at that, but Yennefer simply raised an eyebrow and walked out. Jaskier, returning, walked up to the poor Witcher, who was running about three paces behind the entire ordeal, and gave him a smile. “Thank you for thinking of that! This should be a relatively calm affair, more serious you know, but hey, protection is always a must!”

“I… those were for me.” Geralt shook his head. “I couldn’t choose which to pick.”

“Well, we’ve whittled down the selection haven’t we?” Jaskier smiled indulgently. “Now hurry up and choose yours now, you know how much I’ve been longing for this, and nothing is going to stop me from enjoying tonight. Especially not a late indecisive witcher.” And, pressing a kiss on Geralt’s nose, and nearly falling on him in the process, Jaskier ducked out, leaving the slightly bashful Witcher to pick up a weapon, another dirk, this one wrapped in old worn leather with half rubbed off runes cut into it, and run after him.

The venue was already quite crowded when they arrived, and the front seats full. Jaskier gave a dramatic groan at that, but Ciri, muttering a quick word of assurance, ducked off to find four seats. Geralt could barely make her out, as she slipped quickly and quietly between various patrons, but he trusted in her abilities not only to find a good spot but to be able to take care of herself. The latter part of that trust had been harder to build up, the first few weeks they were together Geralt felt as if he were walking on melting ice, worried about the various ways he might put his newfound family in trouble. It had taken a lot of lectures from Yennefer and coaxing from Jaskier for the Witcher to finally accept that Ciri wasn’t a waifish girl in need of coddling; after all, hadn’t she survived without him? Through war and death and a cult chasing after her? No, Geralt now knew that being a good adoptive father didn’t mean locking one’s daughter away, even out of paternal worry.

As Ciri waved the band over to a set of seats in the third row, Jaskier admitting that the choice was “not bad at all”, Geralt reflected for a moment on where he was now in life. He’d never thought at the beginning of his life he’d be a witcher, and he’d never thought at the beginning of his witcher life that’d he’d be destined for anything other than a lonely life, walking the Path with the cold determination of someone who knew no other way. How odd fate had proved out to be, and how grateful Geralt was that he’d been wrong. How happy he was that his life had changed, that he had changed, for the old Geralt knew nothing about either reflection or hope, not in the way current Geralt did, and as he slipped into one of the creaky wicker chairs set up around the semi circled stage, Geralt glanced at the family around him. Yennefer was enquiring after Jaskier the type of music that was to be played, the bard replying with a garble of songwriter facts and music theory that no one but himself understood, while Ciri was scouting the people around them, trying to determine where they were from no doubt, as she’d once confessed to Geralt seeing Cintran refugees always gave her pause, even if she no longer felt the urge to walk up and say hello. It was a happy sight, despite everything that had happened, the mistakes, the goings, the years apart. It was nice to have a night such as this, and as Jaskier turned to glance at the Witcher he seemed to wink, as if to say to Geralt, see, I told you this was a good idea. Geralt lifted his eyebrow, but he couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face, and as the people hushed and the musicians came out Geralt found himself very happy he’d let that bard follow him around.

Geralt wasn’t entirely sure what he expected out of this night. He knew that it wouldn’t be the same experience as tavern songs, that this wasn’t going to simply be a group of bards, that the singing would be minimal, and that the songs would be longer and more complicated. What he certainly wasn’t expecting was the sheer beauty that hit him. The song started with one musician playing a fiddle, a low pleasant sound, which rose up in a variety of trills. It put Geralt in the mid of early springtime, the birds just emerging from their nests, or coming up from where they’d left. It made him think of the fields right after a frost, buds beginning to dot the trees, the world coming to life again. Slowly the other musicians, of which there were about 60, began to join in with the lone player, adding to the effect of a world waking. The music chased away the rest of Geralt’s thoughts, and he found himself leaning forward, as if somehow he could envelope himself in the notes floating around the theatre.

A glance over at Jaskier made evident that the bard was also feeling affected by the music, for the bard had clasped his hands over his mouth, though every once in a while one would float up, as if guided by the music, and Jaskier’s eyes would close. It was a side that Geralt hadn’t really seen before, for though he knew of course that Jaskier loved music, loved it in an all consuming way, he didn’t show it often, mostly joking that no one wanted to hear the intricacies of Dorian mode, or listen to him sing the praises of men and women long dead. A warm feeling filled Geralt’s chest, and he was almost choked by the sense of fondness that he felt, surrounded by what Jaskier loved best, watching him in his element. Turning back to the performers Geralt thanked every god he could think of and all the ones he couldn’t that Jaskier had brought the family, and that Geralt got to be around such a beautiful being and share in such a beautiful experience.

The music continued, each song more beautiful than the last. After what Geralt could only call the springtime piece came what seemed like four, but Jaskier later told him was only one split up into different “movements”. Their, or rather its, tone was dark, and even when the song seemed faster Geralt only felt agitated, rather than happy. Deciding he didn’t like that as much as the first song, though Ciri rather seemed excited by the frantic energy of it, Geralt was glad when four guild members stepped out and began playing a calmer song, this one another split in four, why did songwriters do such a thing? The second part of the four songs was quiet and soft, almost like a lullaby, and when the third part started again at a bright tone Yennefer, who’d dozed off, jerked up in her seat, to the great amusement of both Ciri and Jaskier, who giggled so incessantly that someone behind them told them in no uncertain terms to either shut up or go home. After that was a song much more based in the flutes and the reeded instruments, which consequently sounded much more fluid and loose, bringing to mind a great city with lazy morals and interesting sights. Geralt was enjoying himself immensely, a happiness only added to by Jaskier’s occasional squeals of glee and raucous clapping at the end of each song, as well as a whisper in Geralt’s ear whenever the Witcher seemed to get lost.

The night was fading away and as the musicians announced that this was to be their last piece the crowd moaned, and shouts of encore echoed through the hall. The musicians stood up and bowed, causing many in the audience to jump to their feet in applause, and some even to begin to walk out, much to Jaskier’s annoyance. “They’re going to miss the best of it.” He scoffed, sitting back down as the stage emptied. Emptied that is except for one woman. She paused, waiting for the noise to calm down, before placing her fiddle on her shoulder. “This is it.” Jaskier whispered, and then she began. Immediately Geralt was blown away. Although there was only of her, multiple notes were certainly coming out of the instrument, at a breakneck pace, which had Geralt in mind of a horse, frantic and wild. The song developed, as a sweet melody came out of the endless pounding of hooves, only to be brought down by another melody, this one thick with panic and fear. The momentum kept going, pitches rising, melodies crashing into each other. It felt more like a torrent than a song, so swept away Geralt felt, giving him an odd sense of dread. Suddenly everything smashed into one another, and the song dropped, giving one the lingering feeling of discomfort. Turning to Jaskier, Geralt looked at the bard with raised eyebrows, not entirely sure how to convey what he’d felt. Jaskier glanced back at him with what seemed like satisfaction. “Based off a poem,” he explained, “of a man trying to save his son, only to be chased by a specter, one who promises the boy happiness and luxury if he goes with him, only to take his soul and kill the boy.” He sighed, seeming much happier than Geralt felt, for a pit had begun to form in the Witcher’s stomach. “Imagine your writing being immortalized in such a way… one day that’ll be my piece Geralt, just you wait. I’ll be the one striking fear into your heart.”

“I hope not.” Geralt responded, a bit brusque for he couldn’t get the image out of his mind. “It sounds like a terrible poem.”

“Tragedy is immortalized better than glory. I’m sure you understand that. Besides, it’s just a story, and one that can bring all people together. You thought her playing was beautiful didn’t you?” He gestured towards the woman, who was receiving heaps of deafening applause. Geralt nodded slowly. He couldn’t deny the talent of both the musician and the songwriter. Still, the music sat uncomfortably over him, and as the family made ready to leave, he couldn’t help but let everyone pass in front of him, thinking of how even if the scenario in the poem itself wasn’t true, the general idea certainly was real enough.

Outside the air seemed to clear a bit, and the group fell into happy chatter. Ciri was still on about how bombastic that second song had been; “I can’t believe how loud they got sometimes! It was like the roof was going to fall!” Yennefer said nothing, rubbing her eyes slightly, but the look on her face was one of contentment. And, of course, Jaskier seemed ready to burst, talking this way and that about all sorts of things. “Did you see the way the fiddle bows were all together? And the vibrato on that first flautist, I couldn’t believe it! Shame that vibrato isn’t exactly a lute thing. And I can’t believe how much work the composer must’ve put into those pieces! I mean, I can barely read two clefs, imagine being able to read four! Maybe I should consider that for the next big project…” His voice carried off, and Geralt smiled indulgently, knowing that for the next few months there’d probably be horrendous amount of noise as this bard tried to put all he’d seen to good use in his own music. Inhaling the cool, fresh air, Geralt began to feel the shroud of that last song shake off, reminding him of how beautiful he’d thought the first song was.

The reverie didn’t last forever though, for as the group made their way out of the stables – Yennefer had insisted on no stays at the inns, for who would spend that much money when there was a perfectly fine home only five miles away – and into the woods the atmosphere seemed much more oppressive. When two men stepped out of the shadows Geralt tensed, wishing he’d brought his swords after all. “What brings you to stop in these dense woods?” Jaskier called out, swinging out of the saddle, a move which caused Geralt’s throat to constrict, and made him simultaneously want to protect and strangle the bard. The men said nothing, and Jaskier shook his head, shrugging his shoulders and holding his hands out to the tall, ragged figures. “Well if you say nothing I cannot help you, and will assume that you’re playing a rather insipid game of hide-and-seek. Now if you don’t mind it’s late, and I’d rather spend a cold night like this in bed than staring a statues.” Going to turn Jaskier stopped in his tracks when one of the men piped up.

“Those are some nice horses. Nice clothes too.”

“Oh you think so?” Jaskier turned around. “I’ll admit I do agree my fashion is impeccable, I’m glad you can see that. But unfortunately I think your judgement on horses is rather lacking. I mean of course Lyra is the loveliest girl, but honestly could you say Roach is anything close to nice?” He gestured towards Geralt, who gripped the reins. The men on the road had the sense to look slightly uneasy at the realization that a witcher was amidst the party, but “evidently they had a scarcity of sense, common or otherwise” Jaskier would later say, for they both looked back upon the bard, and the bulkier of the two drew a ragged sword out of its sheath.

“We’ll be taking Lyra and Roach now. And the horses of those lovely ladies.” The second began walking towards Yennefer and Ciri, the former of who raised her eyebrows, and the latter of who looked extremely unimpressed.

“Do what you want.” Jaskier threw his hands up, as if in surrender. “I must warn you however that one such lovely lady is unused to having her horse stolen out from underneath her, and I daresay mages aren’t known for their forbearance.” The two men halted for a second, and the one closer to Jaskier turned towards the bard. Geralt by now had begun to slide off Roach, looking backwards to make sure there were only two such men, and taking care to be as silent as possible. Jaskier looked as unruffled as ever, and even when the bulky man took a step towards the bard, he stayed in his position, leaning slightly against Lyra, arms crossed at his chest.

“It’s no good lying to us.” The bandit, for that was most surely what these two people were, had a voice that could only be accurately described as gravely. He pointed his sword towards the bard. “I’ll have to teach you a lesson.”

“How menacing of you.” Jaskier deadpanned, and as the man lunged and Geralt made for his weapon it seemed for a moment as if Jaskier was truly about to get struck.

The surprise on the other man’s face was one of complete terror, as his compatriot dropped like a stone. Jaskier pulled his dirk, now drenched to the hilt in blood, out of the man’s ribcage, turning to Geralt, who was likewise frozen. The last bandit distracted Yennefer made quick work snapping her fingers, and in place of the man soon stood a very confused rabbit. Whirling off her own horse Ciri stepped towards the animal, who made a weird sort of strangled sound before bolting into the forest. Walking over to Geralt, Jaskier handed the Witcher the dirk. “Could you hold this for me? My handkerchief is in my pocket, and this doublet is newly made.” Careful to avoid using his right hand, Jaskier pulled out the square of linen, and wiped his hands and the dirk, before sliding the blade back into its sheath. “Thank you darling!” Jaskier planted a kiss on Geralt’s hand, causing the inevitable blush. The poor Witcher still felt like he’d somehow missed something, and as he looked around at the rest of his family, already back on their horses and starting to move on, the Witcher wondered how he’d become the pacifist in the family.

The rest of the ride was quite a jumpy one for the Witcher, who kept expecting various monsters, highwaymen, and other of the sort to come jumping out of the trees at any moment. By the time Yennefer’s place was in sight, Geralt felt an immense sense of relief, and as the group all untacked their horses, Ciri, determined to be the fastest of the group, already combing Melusine, Geralt stayed silent, ears trained on the soft sounds of the night outside. The cleaning done and the hay placed in the stables, the family filed back into the house, Geralt at the rear, locking the bolt to both the stables and the house firmly behind him. “Did you enjoy yourself?” Jaskier immediately asked.

“A bit too long for my taste, but you couldn’t deny the talent.” Yennefer yawned. “Thank you for having us attend Jaskier.”

“Of course my dear Yennefer.” Jaskier dipped into a short bow. Yennefer snorted and walked up the stairs, the bath was definitely going to be hogged for the next hour or so.

“I liked all of it!” Ciri declared, plopping down on the rug in front of the fireplace in the main hall. “It reminded me of the kinds of concerts my grandmother liked to see. I was glad to go to such a thing again.” She smiled softly, and Geralt and Jaskier both walked over to the girl, enveloping her in a group hug. Ciri hummed happily. “Thank you both.” And giving each of the two a quick hug she too went up the stairs, closing the room to her door with a bang, as was custom.

“And you?” Jaskier looked over to Geralt. “Don’t you dare say anything about a filling-less pie this time. I know you lied through your teeth then, and I’ll know you’ll be lying now.” Geralt smiled, old memories swirling through his mind, how long ago that seemed now.

“I liked it. It was…” he paused, trying to find the right words, “different. All the songs were different, but they all fit together. And I felt, carried away.” He lay back on the carpet and sighed. “I felt almost as if there was a spell in the air.”

Jaskier nodded, flopping down besides Geralt. “That’s how I feel too about it. You hear this piece sometimes, and, I can’t even describe it but your entire soul is lifted up, and you just start to drown in it, but you don’t even mind, you want to be further enveloped, further dragged in. That’s what true music can do. Cast a spell without magic.” Geralt turned to look at Jaskier, who himself was staring into the fireplace. “One day I’ll do something like that.” He continued, his eyes warm and full of determination. “I’ll create something like that.”

“I think you already have.” Geralt said, and Jaskier turned to smile at the Witcher.

“Truly?”

“Yes. I think, well, I’ve seen how people react to your music. Even those in the shittiest taverns in the shittiest towns. They seem, almost younger, as if their cares have lifted.” Jaskier’s smiled widened, and he pressed a kiss to Geralt’s jaw.

“Thank you my dea, you have no idea how much that means to me.” Standing up, Jaskier reached out his hand and helped pull Geralt up. “Now be a darling and help wash this dirk, I know that you have your fancy way of cleaning these blades of yours. Then come to bed, it’s late, and I’ll chase away the spirits of the forest.” He laughed at Geralt’s expression. “What? You think I didn’t notice? That last piece seemed to send you out of your skin! And even before that idiotic attempted attack you look ready to throw yourself in front of everything.”

“Cruel of you to notice.” Geralt replied, and Jaskier laughed.

“Well then I must be cruel indeed, for I notice everything about you.” He kissed Geralt softly then, and the Witcher felt the familiar feeling of love and contentment wash over him, something he never thought he’d be able to feel in his younger years.

“There’s nothing cruel about you. Even if you’re wicked with a knife.” And, returning the kiss, Geralt went quickly to take the dirk and wash it off, the music of the evening still in his head and the love for his current life in his heart.

End Notes: For all the music nerds out there, I know that these would all be considered songs rather than pieces, one of these are based off a full symphony, and another based off a string quartet, but seeing as I don't think Geralt would use such terminology, indeed most of said terminology didn't exist in the 13th/14th century, which is the time period I would put this series into the real world, I chose to refer to pieces as songs, composers as songwriters, and make vague mentions of most instruments.

String instruments such as violins, violas, and cello originate from the 16th century, most likely around the 1530s. I took creative liberties again, after all this is a fantasy series.The pieces that are vaguely referenced are as follows: The Lark Ascending by Ralph Vaughan Williams, Dvorak Symphony No. 9 "from the New World", Dvorak String Quartet 12 "American", Rhapsody in Blue by George Gershwin, and Erlkonig originally by Schubert for piano and voice, adapted for solo violin by Heinrich William Ernst and based off a poem by Goethe. The last one is my personal favorite of the lineup and I would highly recommend checking out both the piano and voice lieder and the violin solo (Hilary Hahn's my favorite).

Hope any of you found this enlightening and once again thank you for reading.

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bnhaworld · 5 years ago

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THIS CAME TO ME IN A DREAM -Calamari

Drunk In Love//Drunk! Neito Monoma x Reader

In which Neito may or may not have taken more than he can handle.

(a/n: LIME!! LIME TO FLUFF! SUPER FLUFF!!! Enjoy uwu pwease reblog,, )

It started off as an innocent drinking contest among old friends. The high school reunion was well into swing, and yet, Neito seemed to have his old grudge eating away at him. His inferiority attacked him at every angle, and he knew the best way to ease it.

A drinking competition between himself and mister Shoto Todoroki. He figured; why not have a drinking competition with someone who would be funny to see drunk? He just didn’t expect himself to lose so terribly to the king of stoic expressions.

Now here he was, slurring himself a mess, stumbling from one place to the other and chanting incoherent complaints about himself. Of course, no one likes dealing with a drunk man.

So, you were the next best option.

Neito was well aware that you would do damn near anything for him. It was a subtle sentiment that he feigned ignoring and yet, it hurt his heart to think that someone like you would so much as glance in his direction.

Now here you were, sitting in an emptier room of the venue. There was no one in the lobby of the place, save for the infrequent entering of couples or students. You sat beside Neito on one of the plush couches placed by the entrance, one behind the staircase, mostly out of sight.

You were mostly watching over Neito. He gave no complaint when you asked him to come with you. In fact, he got quiet. You told him to sit with you for a while and to drink some water. Instead, he opted for hunching over and keeping his cobalt orbs locked onto the floor. You just stared at him. Waiting for him to return to his drunken state.

“Angel..” Neito mumbled, lifting his head. You tilted your head

“What?”

“You’re an angel.” Neito blurted out. He lifted his head suddenly, turning toward you as though you held all the answers to the universe and he was eating it up. The ends of your lips turned up in a broken smile you fought to suppress.

“Oh? You think so? Why’s that?” You asked, placing a hand on your face as though you were deep in thought. He leaned toward you, one hand pointing toward you and the other holding him up via the couch.

“Because look at you, damnit!” He huffed. “You’re so nice to me all the time when I’m so rude. You’ve always supported me, you’ve always taken care of me, you always try to fix up my mistakes. No matter what I do, you always seem to come back.”

Your cheeks heated up. The hand on your face had come over your lips, and you felt as though all the words in the world had been erased from your mind and you were left with nothing more than a heartache.

Neito leaned in even closer, his hand pulling yours off of your mouth. He placed his hand on your cheek. His eyes were nailed into yours so intensely, you barely noticed when he had placed his hand on your waist and tugged your body against his.

“And you’re so beautiful, too..”

And with that, his lips collided into yours. You tasted the alcohol the moment he forced his tongue into your mouth, sloppily moving against your lips. Your lips parted in a mixture of surprise and pleasure, but you kissed him back with the same need you felt in his kiss.

Neito pulled back with a smack, immediately nuzzling into your neck. You felt your body heating up under his kisses. He trailed a flurry of peppered kisses across your neck, to your shoulder and back up. The moment he noticed a shudder, he bit down, sucking on the tender flesh. With every movement, your breaths grew more sporadic than the last. You clutched a fistful of hair in one hand, and with the other you felt yourself gripping onto anything you could. Neito slowed down his barrage, his tongue trailing up to your ear. He pressed his lips to the top of your ear.

“The thing I would do to you if we weren’t here right now..” He whispered softly. Neito pressed one last kiss to your neck before pulling away from you, his eyes on yours.

You stared at him, breathing heavily as you tried to recover from the onslaught of feelings. You shook your head as though trying to rid of all the feelings building up in several places. You couldn’t conjure words. It felt as though you were put into a daze by his lips, things you hadn’t even known were possible.

As he pulled away, he found himself staring at you. For a few moments, he only looked at you, only ever stopping to pull a stray lock of hair and place it neatly behind your ear. He let out a soft chuckle after a bit of silence, his eyes fluttering shut once more.

Neito pressed his lips against you once more, his kisses becoming softer and sweeter than anything else. His arms were lazily placed over your shoulder. You felt his lips smile against yours. It was such a sudden shift that you couldn’t help but giggle a little. He pulled away from you, an innocent smile dressing his lips. It felt as though his eyes were sparkling at yours. It was an odd thing to see Neito grin in such a lovestruck way. Your heart skipped a beat. You smiled right back at him, and though you couldn’t tell, you were sure your own expression mirrored his own.

For a moment, that was all there was. A moment. You and Neito, and the flood of feelings forming in between nothing but a look. Without another warning, Neito let out a something like a choke gasped and stood up. You opened your mouth and attempted to piece together words but your confusion kept you from putting any other words together.

Neito parted from you.

He simply stood up and left you, mouth agape on the couch as he disappeared to the other side of the staircase. It took you a moment to piece together what had just happened. After another moment, you stood up and went in his direction.

There, you found Neito sat upon the third step, his leg bouncing and his face in his hands. You could see nothing but his eyes, which were once again glued to the floor, concentrated on what you could only assume was the situation which had just gone down.

You sat beside him, waiting. You knew he wanted to say something. You could tell by the way he walked and carried himself, he had done enough to deplete the drinks in his system, and he was back to being fully aware of himself. Which made this that much harder for him.

“(Y/N), I-I uhm..”

It was the first time you had seen him at a lack of words. You were so used to seeing him confidently piece together perfect sentences that made him seem like he knew exactly what he was doing and why. To see him like this, was.. A little cute actually.

“Neito, it’s okay.” You spoke softly. You took his hand in his, and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“No, it’s not, I didn’t mean to do all.. of that. Or say those things. I mean, maybe, b-but not that. And I.. you know.”

“I know.”

Neito looked up at you, and just as fast, he dropped his head once more. You sighed. You simply reached over and placed your hand beneath his chin, turning him to face you.

“Neito, it’s okay. I would’ve preferred if you were sober.” You teased. You placed a ginger kiss upon his nose. “But.. I like you. I know that much. You try for me a lot more than you realize and clearly, I meant more to you than either of us realized.”

Neito nodded. Your hand moved to his cheek, and he inadvertently leaned into your touch. He placed his hand over yours, eyes still failing to meet yours, but only for a second. His eyes slowly rose to meet yours.

“I don’t like you though, (Y/N).” For the first time in as long as you have known him, you have never heard him speak with such fear in his voice. You winced slightly.

“I love you..” He mumbled. It was almost too quiet for you to catch it, but you did. It was enough for you to hear it, and you giggled softly, a bright grin taking place of your sympathetic smile.

“Neito. I love you, too.” You whispered back to him.

Neito smiled. A bright grin that made your heart hurt in a way that could only be cured with what you knew would help.

And with puppy-like innocence, you found your lips captured in his. A kiss worth a thousand worth.

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ladydracarysao3 · 8 years ago

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In Love, Serenity

Chapter Eighteen: Addicted

Chapter Summary Rhaegar Hawke is a notorious, sarcastic playboy, but he finds himself bewitched by a woman who appears to despise him. He had one taste of her and like a drug addict, he has to score another hit.

Notes That, and I think Hawke doesn't like being told, No.

So this chapter does not have background music, but I do have a lyrical (?) song to share if you're interested. It is major inspiration for Hawke's obsession with Abner.

Take Me To Church - Hozier (However, I prefer the Elli Goulding Cover but Rhaegar Hawke My husband insists on the original.)

Listen, this chapter has smut at the end, but you can totally skip it if that's not your bag, it will not affect the story for you at all. So, if you are one who prefers to refrain from such dirty things, when you see the ***** and a break, the chapter is done!

For those of you who continue on, much like the first smutty chapter, this one switches perspective, because... it just does... I don't know why I do it, but apparently it's a thing I do now.

Enjoy! Comments, likes, and reblogs are loved and adored :)

[Read Chapter 18 on AO3] or [Start from the Beginning]

-Hawke-

“So then Krem says, ‘I bet you can’t get all three of those red heads to bed you tonight.’ Let’s just say, he was buying all of my rounds for a week!” Iron Bull laughs with such a booming vigor that he has to clutch his stomach, head arched back, teeth glinting in the flickering fire light. Bull has been swapping stories and telling jokes with Abner ever since the fire was set. She laughs with him, but Hawke notices – though she clearly tries to hide it – that she favors her left side. Favoring the ribs that had been smashed not two days before by a brut… her husband.

She really shouldn’t try to be so tough. Granted, Hawke would act the same way if it was he who had taken the crippling blow. He stretches his shoulders back at the thought, the fresh scars on his back are still painfully sore from when the demon ripped through his armor as if he was made of butter. While he can appreciate her obstinacy, she needs to take the proper time for rest that Solas had instructed. With everything she just went through, it is amazing she can even walk. Instead, she insists on pretending that she feels great and that nothing catastrophic just happened to her.

Ever since Solas fixed her broken bones, however, she has been different. Lighter. Though, she has yet to address the fact that they all just watched her bathe in the blood of her husband. In fact, she still has some of his blood on her… How can they act like she is okay? How can she make jokes with Bull at a time like this? How can they go along with it? He’s not sure why, but they do.

They all do.

“Mmmm,” Abner smiles into the stars as if she is picturing something beautiful hanging in front of her. “I am a sucker for a red head. Can be a man, a woman, a dwarf, human, elf…shit, I’d even give you a go if you had crimson hair flowing from that head, Bull.”

Smiling to himself, Hawke feels his self-assured arrogance flourish with her words. He has never felt so appreciative of his auburn hair as he does in this moment. Hawke was unaware of her fetish before, perhaps he can use it to his advantage.

“You know, Bers… I bet there is a spell for that. Damn, I’d even wear a wig.” Iron Bull purrs as he leans in toward Abner with want and desire radiating from his one good eye.

Inwardly, Hawke blazes with jealousy. The nerve of the qunari, Hawke is sitting right here. Sure, he doesn’t have any official claim on Abner, but he wants to. It is pretty fucking obvious that he is attracted to her, and that they have an intense, albeit limited, history.

He can’t help himself, he has to attempt to claim her. No matter how much he does not deserve it, and shouldn’t try, he wants to. Hawke has never been one to abstain from his wants, no matter how dangerous they are.

Clearing his throat as challenging and superior as he can muster, Hawke springs a look of perturbed irritation on his face. Interrupting their ardent banter, they both turn their gaze to him, brows cocked, Abner’s eyes annoyed and expectant. Suddenly, with her gaze on him, all of the air within his body… leaves.

Momentarily, he loses his train of thought. Instead of a witty retort, he babbles like an incoherent moron. “I… uh… well…That is to say… I don’t think Abner needs anymore redheads… in this camp, anyway,” he awkwardly utters. As soon as his mouth shuts, he rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, annoyed with his own incompetence.

Smooth. Real smooth… Jackass…

Now she is looking at him with both pity and a half crooked smile. Like Hawke is nothing but a child throwing a tantrum, threatening to take his toys and go home. Well, he does want to take her and go. She is a wonderful, enticing, and feral creature that Hawke wants to play with, and those desires do not involve the qunari sitting to her right. Hawke can feel the pout sulking on his face, and he tries to correct it with a more flirtatious look in her direction. He raises a single eyebrow, places a fist on his hip, and thinks to himself a mantra of, Look dashing. Look dashing. Look dashing.

She is not impressed. Rather, she slowly closes her eyes, obviously rolling them behind her lids. As she opens them again, they stay narrowed, cutting through him with an apathetic precision that slices his heart. Has she lost all interest? Will she ever again look at him the way she did that first night?

She must have felt the raw, primal connection they shared, why push him away? Perhaps it was her Avvar secret… her secret marriage… and something about being half-blooded? Maybe? He doesn’t know, but the crazy, mabari war hound is out of the bag now, so why is she still so cold?

She is such a mystery. He barely knows anything about her…yet… he can’t get her out of his head. This never happens to him. He doesn’t obsess and fall over himself for the attention of a woman. He looks like a Maker damned fool. This is ridiculous, he has known many women. Droves of women. He’s unsure what Abner has done to him… but that feral, wild, and wicked look behind her eyes drives him crazy with want. He feels a kinship with her, like no other. Her presence makes him want to do things… bad things… naughty things… despicable things… Not that a woman has never made him feel lustful, honestly, they all have. The other feelings he has for her, however, are quite unique. Abner instills a need in him to be tender… loving.

She is a Goddess. He would worship at her feet like a dog. The Lady of the Forest. As she calms the rabid mind of a wolf, she accentuates both his ferocity and his compassion.

Hawke needs to know everything about her. He needs her to look at him, smile, and share all of her secrets. Allow him to share the load of her burdens. Crack jokes with her, fight beside her, share stories, hold her, stare at the beautiful wildfire that lives in her eyes, and make love to her every night before she sleeps. He has never been so quickly transfixed by a woman, but she has bewitched him - mind, body, and soul.

He would gladly move mountains for her, if it meant she would look at him the way she did when they first met. What he would not give to go back to that night, when she was carefree and comfortable. That must return. She is like drug and he is happily addicted. He needs another fix, to rapture in her glow. He had that one precious taste of her spirit, and like a fiend, he is desperate for more.

She gets up from her spot at the fire, “I’m goin’ to bed.” She cuts her eyes at Hawke, razor sharp daggers searing into the depths his soul. He wants to follow her, but with all the seriousness of a mage going into a harrowing, she says, “Alone.” Begrudgingly, he watches her as she heads to her tent, wishing he could follow, annoyed that he cannot.

Izzalea walks in front of him in that moment, obstructing his view of Abner’s tent. Stretching and groaning, Izzy is oblivious to his desperate yearning to recapture her scout. “Maker’s balls, I am so sick of this swamp. At least the rain finally stopped. Though, I wonder for how long.” She sighs and plops down on a log beside him. “How amazing would it be to have our gear actually dry out?” She gently ribs him with her elbow.

“I’m not sure what good it would do. We all stink and are covered in blood and guts anyway,” Bull grunts.

No one has been able to bathe since they arrived. Not really, anyway. The marsh is full of the undead, and the water is disgusting. There is nothing around to clean themselves with, so they wipe off as best as they can and persevere. Everyone could do well with a warm bath, a dry bed, and a decent meal.

That gives him an idea. “I think we need to let everyone have a well-deserved break from the bullshit,” Hawke winks at Iron Bull who takes obvious offence to his well-directed snark. “And we all deserve respite from having to smell the especially noxious qunari.”

Bull’s nostrils flare as he begins to glare and, possibly unknowingly, tilt his horns in Hawke’s direction. This just fuels his fire, “Say Bull, you‘re part beast or something, aren’t you? I mean that’s why you have horns and all of that, right? Should you not be able to lick yourself clean?” Hawke feels wickedly proud of himself, retaliation for hitting on Abner.

“RRRRRRAH! ENOUGH!” Bull growls and bellows at Hawke as he sharply rises to his feet.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Izzalea raises her hand to stop Bull from a charge. She punches Hawke roughly in the shoulder as he continues to taunt the horned goat-man with a malicious smirk. “Knock it off, Hawke.” As Bull sits back down, glowering, Izzy sighs in irritation, “What was your point, Hawke? Without any additional of insults, preferably.” She cuts her eyes at him. With all of this love and adoration, he feels as if he’s back in Kirkwall.

He sits up straight, tugging at his tunic proudly and winks at Bull again, who in turn rolls his eye. Pivoting to Izzy, he unfolds his plan, “There was a town, Sothmere, not far from the bog. I bet they have an inn there. What do you say we stop there, rest, wash ourselves, and have a decent meal?”

“Oh that sounds wonderful!” Izzy squeals, Hawke didn’t even know this woman could emit a sound so high-pitched. However, her disposition immediately plummets, “But Josie didn’t give me the funds for that sort of thing,” she says as she drops her head down, resting it in her palm with her elbow leaned on her knee. She looks like Hawke had promised her a ride on a griffon only to laugh in her face and tell her they’re extinct.

“Ah, well… fear not your Inquisitorialness! It will be my treat. My gift to the Inquisition and all of that,” he says as he smiles at her, mockingly putting-on-airs and twirling his fingers about.

She sits up straight again, grinning ear to ear, “Thank you, Hawke! Are you sure you want to spend your coin on that? Once we get out of the bog it will only be a few nights before we reach Skyhold.”

Honestly, or obviously, Hawke has his own agenda. He seeks privacy with Abner before they return to the keep. With all of the bustle that goes on there, it would be easy for her to slip away, disappearing from his grasp forever. Plus, he will be leaving again, this time for the Western Approach, almost immediately upon return. He cannot risk losing the chance to talk to her. Perhaps he should attempt to apologize… or something… He still doesn’t know what he did, but apologies tend to do wonders with the fairer sex. Really, he’s willing to do anything if it means he has the chance to experience her charms again.

Hawke winks at Izzalea and bumps his shoulder into hers, “Really Izzy? Do you really want to arrive in Skyhold to face your dapper and handsome Commander, while smelling like a death bog?”

Izzalea grimaces at the thought and shakes her head. “No.”

“Then the inn it is! We deserve it,” he smiles at her and rises to his feet. He flashes a brief, smug nod to Iron Bull before turning on his heel to head to his tent for the night. As he strides away, he calls back to his companions over his shoulder, “It will be something for us to look forward to as we fight our way out of this revolting marsh.”

The next day is slow going. Even though they finally leave the bog behind, the steady pace needed to keep it easy on the wounded, tired soldiers seems to make their travel drag on forever. There were not enough horses for everyone, so the worst of the lot were propped on steeds and lead by the rest at a slow, even march. They still manage to arrive in Sothmere by the next evening, however. Like the Maker shining his light down upon them, they see the inn from a distance, and everyone’s mood revitalizes.

As members of their entourage clean themselves, they slip into the cleanest, most comfortable clothes they can find in their gear, and trickle into the inn’s tavern for drink, food, and relaxation. Hawke practically skips down the steps from the inn rooms to the tavern floor. His light, linen tunic and slacks feel fresh and easy on his newly washed skin. He walks up to the bar to order himself a much needed drink.

A beautiful barmaid walks up to Hawke, smiling a lovely, toothy grin and crinkling the freckles spread across her nose as she winks at him in hello. She has a light, sunny, red hue to her wavy hair that cascades over her shoulders. Her breasts are hoisted quite high due to some kind of brown, leather, corset contraption underneath that Hawke doesn’t understand, but greatly appreciates. While a linen chemise is below, barely keeping her breasts from being displayed bare, in all of their glory. She catches him staring and laughs while shaking her head, “’Ello there, handsome stranger, what can I do yis for?” She has a rich, friendly Starkhaven brogue that almost makes Hawke long for the Free Marches, and the other lovely lady there with a similar accent.

He smirks coyly at the maiden. He drops his voice to a low, playful rumble, “How about a glass of your finest red, my lady?”

“Oh, yous a cheeky one, eh?” she flirts, “Not sure how fine it is foryis, but I might have a bottle of sumptin in the back.” He watches as she walks through a door into the tavern’s store room. A pale green skirt flits around as she walks, but Hawke still enjoys the view of her bum swaying before she disappears into the room.

When she returns, she displays a proud smile on her glowing, pale, freckled face. “This’ll have to do, big spender,” she winks at him as she pours a glass into a goblet. “Best we got.”

“I’m sure it’s wonderful,” he coos back to her, all the while he obviously drinks her in with his eyes.

She giggles at him while handing his goblet over, he slides his coin across the wooden counter. As he drinks, the wine hits that very particular and unfortunate spot at the back of his throat, causing him to cough uncontrollably. While he was trying to appear suave for the barmaid, instead he hacks and dribbles red wine down the front of his pale linen shirt.

She covers her mouth with her hands but laughs hysterically at his discomfort. Hawke sighs, taking his wine and his shame to find the rest of his cleaned companions in the tavern. It does not take long, as he sees a table with Izzy, Bull, Cole, Solas, and a couple of the rescued Inquisition soldiers sitting at a long table not very far from the bar. He joins them and enjoys some light banter, however, Hawke notices a far off stare in Izzalea’s sage colored eyes.

“Something weighing on your mind, Izzy?” Hawke asks just before taking a swig of his wine.

“I just…” her voice trails off as quickly as it begins.

“What is it boss?” Iron Bull asks, looking concerned from the end of the table.

“I just don’t understand how that… Thing, could have been married to Abner,” Izzalea speaks slowly and cautiously, keeping her stare on the table, eyes searching the woodgrain for answers.

“It’s possible that it wasn’t her choice,” Bull says gravely. Izzeala turns her head to look at the Qunari. “The thing is, well as far as I’ve heard, it’s how they get their brides to the wedding ceremony…” Bull says plainly. “They abduct her.”

Hawke feels the color rush from his face and feels sick to his stomach, followed quickly by outrage. He growls inwardly, “They what?” The thought of a young Abner being abducted and forced to marry that man sickens him.

“Well, to my understanding it’s just a custom. The groom has to prove himself to her family by successfully taking her from them. The marriage is supposed to be worked out and agreed upon before, and the bride can even help him if she wants. The ritual was explained to me once when the Chargers where working near an Avvar strong hold. They talked about it like it was fun, a test of valor.” Bull drops his eyes from the table and takes a drink from his tankard. Shuddering to himself he continues, “But I get the feeling that our friend may not have been so keen on the idea…”

Cole quietly murmurs while his face is tipped downward and a frown shapes his lips, “Not a game to her…”

“I do not think it prudent to speculate how she was married or how she felt about it, The Iron Bull. Imparting Avvar customs to our friends here is one thing, speculations of Abner’s private affairs is quite another,” Solas calmly and coolly scolds Bull, who in turn shoots a glare and releases a low grunt at the elf.

Izzalea groans with guilt written plainly on her face, she runs her fingers through her wet hair, shaking it out as she does. “Solas is right…we should change the subject. I am sorry for bringing it up.”

Iron Bull watches Izzalea idly play with her auburn tresses, a twinkle shines in his eyes as he looks past her and to the lovely barmaid beyond. “How about we take bets as to whether I can seduce that gorgeous redhead serving drinks at the bar?” He looks at the woman with a hunger in his eye and a smirk on his face.

The two soldiers at the table look at the woman and then eye the enormous Iron Bull up and down. “I will take that bet,” one says.

The other chuckles, “Yeah, me too. I think she will take one look at you and turn the other direction.”

Bull laughs proudly to himself, “You men of little faith. Prepare to lose your coin…” He starts to rise from his chair only to freeze in place because of something he sees. His jaw slacks, surprise shining in his eye. He slowly eases back down without dropping his gaze from what has shocked him.

“What’s wrong Bull, lost your nerve?” Hawke chuckles as he turns his head to follow Bull’s line of sight.

And then he sees her.

Abner is slowly slinking down the steps from the inn’s rooms and into the tavern.

She is a vision.

Her thick and dreaded hair is pulled back into a large messy knot, or bun, or whatever you call it with hair like hers. She has fresh kohl marked around her eyes, matching her black tattoos, and her skin tight, black leather breeches. A look that is seductively dangerous.

And her tunic… it is scandalous.

Obviously, they did not have the means to bring a wardrobe on this mission, but she is wearing a mere sheath of a top. Sleeveless and thin, it drapes and flows loosely from her shoulders. The color is lighter than her skin… and maker is that material thin. Painfully thin. Hawke begins to doubt if she even knows what a breast band is…

Hawke’s loins tighten and quiver at the sight of her. He licks his lips as he suddenly feels parched, but he cannot avert his stare. Barefooted, she lightly and gracefully pads up to the bar. He finds it hard to contain himself as he hopes she comes to their table soon. He cunningly pushes back the chair next to him, hoping she will grace it with her exquisite behind.

She leans on the counter and smiles seductively at the light, crimson haired barmaid. Hawke’s heart starts to plummet into the abyss as she stays there, standing with the maid. She receives her ale, but she stays. The maid giggles and blushes at something Abner says. She looks as sly as a cat flirting with a fish in a bowl.

“Looks like you will be paying us coin, Iron Bull,” Hawke hears one of the soldiers snort from behind him.

He turns to look at Bull as he grunts disapprovingly at the soldier. “How could I to get in the way of that.” He sighs in capitulation, “She deserves some fun…”

The conversations ebb and flow at the table, all the while, Abner never joins them. Hawke tries his hardest not to stare at her, but it is difficult. Ultimately, he ends up sullenly pouting and studying the wood pattern on his goblet in front of him. He surrenders his attempt to not watch her and looks back toward the bar, only to feel a shot of anxiety in his chest. She is gone.

Searching the room with panicked eyes, Hawke looks for her figure, but finds nothing. She must have gone up to bed. How is he to make amends with her if he never gets a chance to talk to her? He must find her. He must speak with her.

Excusing himself from the table, he decides to search her out. He nods to his companions, wishing them a pleasant evening and a good sleep. He jokingly advises Bull to not poke any holes in his pillows with his horns, as he doesn’t want to spend the extra coin to clean the feathers and replace the linens. Before Bull can retaliate with an equally damning insult, Hawke smugly makes his way up the stairs.

Thankfully, since he purchased the rooms, he also handed out the keys. Hawke quickly finds her door and raps his knuckles on the wood in the most charming way he can possibly muster.

Hearing muffled voices from the other side, he wonders if she not alone. There is a pit in his stomach, but then the door begins to open. The beautiful, yet sour, face of Hawke’s Avvar Goddess is staring up at him. He has displeased her, yet again, with his presence.

She cocks her head to the side, folds her arms at her chest, and taps her foot. “What do you want, Hawke… I’m a little busy…” she spits her words like venom.

Looking past her, he sees that the redheaded barmaid is in the bed, holding a sheet against her chest and between her bare shoulders. Interestingly enough her look is not of disdain, the maid is actually tracing her eyes over Hawke’s body with a delicious smirk on her lips, and lustful bedroom eyes.

“Oh Abi, are ya havin’ that? Just look at’im. He’s right fit innit he?” the maiden hums as she locks eyes with him and they both raise an eyebrow at each other. Oh, this is very interesting, indeed. Hawke can work with this. He had wanted to make amends with Abner, but he could easily be persuaded as to how he should accomplish the task.

Hawke winks slyly at the maiden in the sheets before looking down to his raven haired beauty. Leaning against the doorframe, crossing his arms, and cocking his brow, Hawke rumbles in the most suggestive and sarcastic way possible, “Abi?”

“Not a word, Hawke,” she says curtly, but he detects the slightest hint of amusement in her eyes. The wall she has put between them is starting to chip. She sighs, “Why are you here?”

He smiles at her. “Well, I wanted to kiss and make up… But I see now that perhaps we can do so much more than just that.” There is slightest twitch of a smile on the corner of her mouth, hope springs within him. She is not as discontent with him as she tries to appear.

The crimson maid on the bed squeals with delight and pleads with ‘Abi’ to let him in. He continues to lean on the doorframe as smug as the Nug King himself. Abner’s eyes never leave his. He watches as the fire burning within them slowly morphs from contempt into desire. She is internally weighing her options, and her decision seems to be leaning in Hawke’s favor.

She licks and bites at her lip. His breath intensifies. She takes one step toward him with a smile on her wicked, gorgeous face.

Barely audible, except to her, he asks, “How are your ribs?”

“Much better, don’t worry about them,” her voice is in that low sexy tone he has been yearning to hear.

Hawke seizes that moment. Without diverting their lustful gaze, he swiftly scoops her up into his arms. She hooks her legs around his waist like they belong there, and he carries her into the room. Pivoting, Hawke uses his boot to knock the door closed and roughly presses her against it.

She is raised above him just enough to give Hawke easy access to her neck. He ghosts his lips over tan flesh, lightly breathing hot breath on her skin as she squeezes him tightly between her thighs. He looks up at her as thunderous desire rumbles in his chest. She peers down into his burning soul, her fingers entwine in his hair and tug lightly at his beard.

She is looking at Hawke as she did the first time she was in his arms. He is overcome with bliss and hunger. She is his again, but he needs to ensure it stays this way.

The maiden behind him calls out, “Ay, what about me?”

Hawkes eyes flow ravenously over the enticing, warm, tanned skin of the goddess in his arms and wrapped around his body. In a low husk he responds, “Just a moment, love…”

Hawke leans in to tenderly whisper a kiss onto the nape Abner’s neck. “I just need to…”

As soft as a dropping flower petal, he presses a kiss upon her left shoulder. “Tell our beautiful friend…”

Her chest begins to heave… a kiss for her right shoulder. “How sorry…”

She shudders beneath his lips as he places a kiss on the other side of her neck. Looking back into her gorgeous dark eyes, he knows he burns for her as much as her eyes convey she burns for him. “I am.”

Abner’s teeth tug at her lower lip as she smiles at Hawke, before meeting her lips with his. Fire roars within his body. Electricity sparks as the touching of their skin ignites an insatiable thirst within him.

Hawke quivers in her presence, as he tastes her drug again.

*****

She tried to push him away, but he is a persistent little fucker.

Fine. If Hawke really wants to keep, whatever this is, going… Abner will play along.

For now.

After his finishes tenderly kissing her, and apologizing for… something? She’s not sure what for, but right now she doesn’t care. He loses control and begins to ravage her in his arms.

He is like a rabid animal. His long, messy, red tresses are still damp to her touch. His untamed beard tickles her skin as he glides wet, passionate kisses along her neck, chest, and shoulders. Leaving her slick, reddened, and dotted with small love bites. He comes up for air and looks at her while panting. His lips parted, his stormy, blue eyes, dark and animalistic.

He may be the sexiest man alive.

Abner shudders under his touch. He holds her above him, legs wrapped tightly around his waist, the heat between them pressed firmly against his wash-board stomach. He has her pressed roughly against the door to her room. With a ragged moan he forces her hips down past his and presses his hard length against her heat. Excitement shoots through Abner’s body, a shiver dancing down her spine at the feel of him between her legs. Panting and rutting against each other in rhythm, she can’t wait too feel him inside her again.

Grinding and rutting against her, he bites at her shoulder. She tips her head back against the door and moans from deep within her, biting her lip in the process. She is drunk on him. Abner almost loses herself completely, almost forgets the other crimson haired minx in the room.

Her body slightly rises and falls, with Hawke repetitively pressing his cock against her. She sees stars as he tugs and licks at her ear. Her nails dig into his chiseled, scarred back and her jaw slacks, lips parted as she lowers her gaze to the beautiful treasure waiting for them on the bed.

She has a pleasure-filled, pained look on her sweet face. Her green eyes, doe-like. Her brows, pinched. Her pretty, pink lips, open. Her body is writhing slowly on the bed as Abner’s eyes follow the curves of her freckled, pale skin all the way to her activity.

Before Hawke came to the door, Abner had helped the maiden lose her garments. But she has now shed the sheet that was once modestly draped over her when Abner answered his knock. Patiently she waits, watching them rut and moan against the door. The maiden’s knees bent, her legs spread, one hand lightly rubbing her clit, the other delicately tracing her fingertips along her lips.

She looks delicious.

“Hawke…” A ragged whisper grips from Abner’s throat into his ear, “Don’t forget our friend.” She gently places his chin between thumb and forefinger, turning his head to see the vixen on the bed.

“Perish the thought,” he growls, voice rich with desire. Easing Abner down, he allows her to leave their position and slowly pad up to the temptress who lies open on the bed.

How lucky is she to have not one, but two seductive crimson haired lovers this evening?

“Rhaegar Hawke, I’d like you to meet Eliza,” Abner says and smiles at her. Eyes dark and hooded, she crawls between Eliza’s legs, over her body. She is a vision. Her pale, alabaster skin is as soft as powder. Light freckles dot her rosy cheeks, and across her nose in a dazzling array of sweetness.

“A pleasure,” Hawke hums. He stands at the door waiting, watching Eliza and Abner on the bed.

Leaning over her, Abner kisses her pouty lips. Eliza’s eyes close, but her mouth opens. Abner glides the tip of her tongue along the soft, pink lips before she dips in, caressing Eliza’s tongue with hers. She moans into Abner’s mouth and presses her hips up against her. The maid shudders with desire as Abner runs her tongue-caressing kisses on her lips, cheeks, and chin. She travels wet, adoring kisses down her neck, and arches her back, kneeling over Eliza’s writhing form.

Hawke apparently is overcome with temptation at the sight of Abner’s bum propped in the air. He comes to stand next to the bed. His hands traveling the curve of Abner’s ass, down the firm, muscled outside of her thighs, and back up the softer, delicate inside. He cups her hot center through her leather breeches, before tugging at the laces. Slowly, she feels him peel back the leather from her skin. As he pulls them down her legs, she aids him, lifting to remove her pants, one leg at a time.

He cups and grabs Abner’s ass, giving her a tongue-stroking kiss on each cheek. He glides his hand between her thighs, causing her to gasp and shudder into Eliza’s mouth. As he paces up the side of the bed, Abner leaves her kisses with Eliza to lean up on her knees, welcoming Hawke with passion between their slick lips.

Hawke’s works one hand between her legs, while the other travels to her neck. She gasps as he grabs it firmly, pressing his thumb against her throat, and pulling her into a deeper kiss. Eliza’s fingers dance and glide on Abner’s stomach causing her skin to prickle and sing. Hawke’s hand travels down to her breast. He cups it and thumbs her nipple as they continue to sinfully glide their tongues together.

Pulling away from their kiss, he eyes the crimson beauty lying beneath them. With his hooded stormy eyes, he smiles at Eliza as he bends down to seductively kiss her luscious lips, and brush his fingers along her breasts.

Abner uses the opportunity to slip off her sheer tunic, tossing it to the side. Delicately, she moves Eliza’s legs downward, and straddles over one of her thighs. Pressing her firm thigh against Eliza’s slick cunt, the barmaid coos into Hawke’s mouth with excitement. The ragged panting sounds they make turns Abner on further, as she glides and rocks herself against Eliza’s soft, smooth thigh.

Hawke stands and begins to remove his clothing while Eliza sits up enough to grab at Abner’s waist and pull her down. Their skin silkily slides against each other. Abner lies next to Eliza, yet slightly overlapped and entangled with her. They kiss as Abner trails her hand down Eliza’s stomach to her dripping core. She moans and bucks against Abner’s hand while she rubs the sweet pearl with her thumb and dips the tips of her fingers into her.

Abner hums lowly into her ear, “Do you like that, Eliza?”

“Fuck, yes…” she gasps breathlessly.

Hawke joins them on the bed, on the opposite side of their tantalizing barmaid. He kneels next to her, his cock proudly hanging before them. Eliza and Abner smirk at each other before they sit up and guide Hawke to a lying position between them. Eliza licks her hand and glides her slippery palm along Hawke’s length, from tip to base and back again, causing it to twitch in appreciation.

He hisses a sharp intake of breath and closes his eyes. Each of his hands lightly rubbing the women’s waists. Leaning down over his cock, as Eliza slowly strokes it, Abner eases her mouth over the tip. Swirling her tongue against the shaft, she glides down, encasing as much as she can while allowing room for Eliza. With added pressure of suction, Abner glides her mouth back up. She watches Hawke’s face as Eliza strokes, and she sucks. His eyes open, watching them, the blue of them turning even darker and more thunderous. His lightly furred chest rises and falls steadily, his slow breath gradually gaining speed.

Hawke wraps his fingers through Abner’s hair and guides his cock deeper in her mouth and down her throat, until her nose presses firmly against his stomach. He holds her there as she moans, the feeling of him filling her throat makes her cunt drip down her leg. Eliza reaches around and glides her fingers over Abner’s ass before pressing them inside her, fingers playing with slippery wet. Hawke releases his hold, and she springs her head up, gasping for air, grinning wickedly. He grabs Abner’s face roughly, sinking his thumb into her open, panting mouth, pulling her jaw down. He licks and bites at his lips as he watches her moan, mouth wet and red, and Eliza plays with her cunt, finger gliding and dancing between her thighs. He pulls his thumb from her mouth and pushes her head back down over his cock.

His eyes quickly flicker wide, then squeeze shut as his breathing speeds up considerably, with the added vibrations of her moaning. He pumps her head faster and harder. Pulling his lower lip into his mouth and biting it firmly, he looks down at her, their eyes meeting intensely.

Abner pulls him out of her mouth, gasping for air, overcome with lust. Eliza gives her a break, placing her mouth over him. He replaces Eliza’s fingers inside Abner with his own. His stormy eyes still locked on hers. They may have a companion in the room, but he looks at Abner as if she is the only person in Thedas. She can’t look away, transfixed, aroused by his reddened face and ragged breath. His fingers slide in and out of her as she lightly grinds her hips to help him go deeper. They repeatedly hook and rub against the special bundle of nerves deep inside her, giving Abner the feeling that she will soon unravel. The combination of his fingers, the atmosphere, and the gale raging in his eyes brings her closer to the edge.

Hawke senses this, pulling his fingers away. Abner whimpers, instantly feeling empty, longing for his touch to return. She begs him with her eyes, to bring his touch back to her.

“Get on,” a deep, seductive command erupts from his chest.

Eliza ceases her attentions. Bringing her head back up, she smiles and wipes saliva from her swollen, dark-pink lips. Hawke winks at her, motioning for her to crawl to him and straddle his face while Abner straddles his hips. In unison the women ease down to him. Abner watches his tongue reach out, gliding along Eliza while she cries out to the Maker.

As his cock fills her, Abner loses all consciousness. He feels amazing. She rocks her hips so that he continually stays inside, rubbing against her favorite spot. It feels as if fire is burning and dancing on every inch of her skin.

Eliza reaches out for her, bringing Abner back from her haze. She pulls their lips together. She tastes Hawke on Eliza’s lips and on her tongue, making Abner burn even brighter. They cry into each other as they kiss and ride Hawke. Their breathing uneven, their hips buck and twitch as he brings them both close to the edge.

Hawke’s hands grip Abner’s hips hard, pressing her roughly on him. The women’s hands tangle in each other’s hair and they press their foreheads together, swiftly approaching ecstasy. They both loudly plead for release, and find it, together.

Abner and Eliza shudder. Heads falling to the other’s shoulder, hips twitching as ripples of explosions release in their bodies. They pant and moan into each other’s skin as the last shockwaves of their orgasms dissipate. Abner feels as if her skin glows, Eliza’s most certainly does.

In a low, husky tone, Abner chuckles. Wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, she smiles, exhaling a single word, “Damn…”

Eliza giggles as she dismounts Hawke’s now glistening face. He grins quite proudly at them, his hands still driving Abner’s hips on him, slowly rocking her back and forth on him.

“If my ladies are finished?” he asks politely, smirking.

“Please, go right ahead,” Eliza giggles.

The dark, stormy, blue eyes lock on Abner’s, making her shiver and feel as if she could come again. She hadn’t realized how much she missed his eyes on her while their lovely friend obstructed her view. He flashes a wicked grin moments before swooping and flinging them into opposite positions, pinning Abner down against the bed. Hawke fervently thrusts in and out of her in long, fluid strokes, never breaking eye contact.

Placing her legs over each shoulder he drives into her. A feeling so intense, that her legs shake and tremble against him. Abner screams his name, and grunts loudly with each thrust, consumed by pleasure. His red hair cascades down the side of his face as he leans down to kiss her. Abner’s knees pinned against her chest, he stays there, slamming into her fast and hard. The bed shakes and creaks, rutting against the floorboards.

Pressing his forehead on hers, they stare into each other eyes, and she senses Hawke start to lose control. In this moment, he is the only man in the world, and she, the only woman. She feels euphoric as she reaches a second climax, dissolving into star dust as rapture radiates throughout her body.

He rumbles her name before connecting their lips one last time as he slams eagerly inside of her. Holding that position, she feels him release and tremble against her.

Abner tucks his hair behind his ear and caresses his cheek. They gaze softly at each other. He smiles and kisses her forehead before leaning up, gently helping her stretch out her unsteady legs.

He grins at Eliza, winks, and exclaims, “Good job!” He smacks her playfully on the ass, causing her to giggle. He looks down at Abner lovingly, gently rubbing her thighs in his strong hands, “You too, my love.”

Abner allows herself to flush at his words, just this once, feeling her own affinity for the man grow in her chest. She feels warm, tingly all over as they each pick a side of her to lie next to and cuddle.

She really shouldn’t make a habit out of this. But just for this night, Abner will allow herself to feel loved.

#in love serenity #male hawke #my hawke #hawke #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age fandom #dragon age romance

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