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unadulteratedsoulsweets · 2 months ago

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A DC X DP IDEA #37

Progenitor

Imagine dis…

I saw a TikTok about this and some A03 fics inspired me as well.

It is about the eldest daughter being parentified by her parents towards her younger siblings.

Many fics portray Danny as much closer to Jazz as she is the one who raised him since their parents are so focused on their ghostly research, and even during crucial days like holidays are filled with arguments.

There are very few where I saw Jazz feeling motherly love towards Danny, doing things only a mother would dare to do for the sake of her child.

…

Danny was originally born as Danyal Al Ghul, the lesser twin of him and his older brother, Damian Al Ghul. Danyal has the softness that no Al Ghul should have, the innocence that seems to bloom within his heart that seemed impossible to grow under the harsh desert sand and discipline within their grandfather’s rule. He tried to open up to his twin, after all, they came together, so there must be something to be linked between the two brothers.

Yet it was naive thinking of him, it had met him a deep scar on his right cheek for such an act.

He also tried to reach out to his mother, surely the woman with whom he shared a connection both blood and flesh, and the woman who had carried him and his brother within her womb instead of the artificial womb that grandfather insisted for their development for future advantage.

He received nothing but a slap and an hour under intense torture that no toddler should ever experience.

He also tried to reach out to their guard, the guard with hazed eyes. Damian had immediately lost interest in their supposed guard but he stayed. He observed the guard found little things that he quite enjoyed with the guard, the nameless guard would hold the book as if reading but now actual movement reading, so he would occasionally sit on his lap and let him read a book and read it out loud, sometimes he would see him nod along or a slight twitch of his fingers or face.

He got attached to his guard, and despite being catatonic he still had the moves of a deadly fighter so Danyal began copying him, learning from him, every time he got as much as a scrape his guard would kneel and stare at the wound as if he could stare the injury away. It made Danyal smile as he knew that his guard was trying to make it better but knew nothing of how.

Under those glazed eyes Danyal heard him speak for the first and last time. It was another day for Danyal and his guard yet when he entered his chamber he was gone, leaving Danyal to care for his heart that had been broken for another time.

Slowly but surely he made a wall around his heart, he loved so much, he loved so much yet no one stayed for him. No one gave their love and devotion back to him. So he put up walls, so that his fragile heart that had been torn into pieces by those he gave his heart to, would never further break.

It was a normal day really, a small time group of assassins that had been absorbed by the League a long time ago held loyalty to their former leader who had been executed by Ra. In an act of revenge, the remaining assassins poisoned the two heirs of the Demon head and immediately killed themselves.

As Danyal lays down on the cold floor of their private chambers with Damian already unconscious he begins to wish, from the books he manages to read with his guard he learns of a legend, wish upon a star tell no one and your wish will come true, he began to wish for his next life for someone to love him with all his heart.

…

He was reborn, the moment he blinked his eyes he noticed that had regressed into a mere baby. He was born into a family of scientists, if he can call them that, ever spent most of their time tinkering away and discussing their l; latest project. It did not bother Danyal Daniel much as he had experienced firsthand how to be compared and be ignored in favor of your much in favor of brother.

But this time it was different, instead of being left behind by the older sibling she stayed. Jasmine or Jazz as she preferred, stayed and looked after him, which confused him for a bit, being the more favored sibling both by their parents and the desolate town around them, she could left him to fend for himself, but still, she stayed.

She read so many books that reached passed her height, about parenting and how to take care of a baby. It was all new to him that he didn’t know what to do with all of the attention and love that seem to radiant from his sister to him.

He saw some of his age group civilians see how they look at their guardians and parents and how said guardians/ parents would act towards them and made a realization that he finally found the one, the one where he could lower his walls and give his entire heart to, mother? Or father? Titles that whispered inside his head. Whenever he needed help she was there, whenever he was in distress she was there to comfort her. Each time she was there, both mother and father she had filled both roles despite having the opportunity to go away and be great using her intellect and own means she stayed just for him.

He physically fumbled and tripped at what to do with the amount of love that he could ever wish to have, not only that 2 more joined in loving and caring for him. Samantha Ingrid "Sam" Manson and Tucker Foley are friends who are with him through thick and thin, even at the moment of his death they were there.

To get back to them forever loving him, he defended the town where his precious people lived.

Ellie was a surprise he sometimes wished to have a younger sibling to care for, it may started rough but both are going somewhere. Then there is his older self from the future, he saw himself if he managed to lose the most important people in his life. Dan knew both in and out the things he kept secret and every thought he made, both made a slow and shaking bond but when something clicked within them, it was there to acknowledge.

It had been perfect, Daniel Danny’s life had been, a family that loved him it was all he ever wished for. If only Maddie and Jack never did discover who he was, being cut open and witnessing how your very insides move and twitch made even the hardened soldiers faint. Jazz’s scream echoed the deep lab that coated his blood at every nook and cranny.

The moment he woke up he felt nothing but dread, he was back….

Deep within the walls of the League, a lone boy let out a silent scream to the skies.

…

Danyal woke up three days after Damian woke up, He could not get into his head, he still retained the memories of when he was Danny, some scars that only Danny ever had yet it all felt like a dream, a haze and illusion that his mind had made. From that day on he began moving through the motion, without putting any life or force in each swing, being the good little soldier that all wanted. Slowly the light in his eyes was lost and if you were to observe him from afar you’d see an asset, not a boy walking through the motions of the day.

Ra was pleased, the tool that he had seen but a dull knife was slowly sharpening itself, while both Damian and Talia remained indifferent.

…

The twins were 10 when they were sent off to their father in Gotham.

Richard “Dick” Grayson immediately took a liking to Damian as he not only saw Jason in him but also a child that needed guidance, which was cemented when they all thought that Bruce had died, it was right then that moment when Dick ensured to be the guidance that Damian needed, all while leaving Danyal.

Jason tried to be closer to the demon brat but whenever he tried to initiate some of his old habits back when he was in the League and back when his mind was still hazy he was met with a sword in his face he thought that he was shy and kept on trying to connect with said baby brother, all while leaving Danyal.

Tim is reserved and becomes guarded when Dmain threatens him and cuts off his line, he also sets up expectations towards the silent twin who seems to be a wallflower most of the time but that doesn’t deter him, so when Tim and Damian begins working on a relationship, they just didn’t see the other twin that had been left behind again.

Bruce has many regrets in his life and when his biological kids appeared he swore to be there for them, it was when he was lost in the time stream that he promised himself to be more involved in all of his kid's lives, from Dick’s job as a cop in Bludhaven to Damian’s artwork at school. He made sure that he had the time for all of them, never repeating his mistakes, yet he also left Danyal behind.

…

Constantine is sweating, as much as he rather summon another bloody demon to deal with the problem at hand, he knows that even the strongest demons he could call forth could not defeat a denizen of the Realms. He already explained to the rest of the JL that only a denizen that is either equal or greater power can defeat whomever it is making the citizens of Metropolis depressed and being murdered left and right. As he drew the summoning circle to summon the strongest that could catch this call, he just hoped it was something he or the JL could pay.

As he activated the circle, large blue flames began to surround the entire JL base that are both cold and hot. He closed his eyes shit at the sheer intensity of this being’s raw power to the point every JL member from both Dark and Maine is pushed 5 feet back at the intense power when he opened his eyes to look at what kind of being he just summoned he immediately paled to the color of paper.

There she is, in all her glory, blue flames that flow down to her back, standing 8 feet tall carrying a javelin, she wears a stunning navy blue gown that combines elegance with a militaristic edge. The sculpted shoulders, embellished with gold-embroidered epaulets, gave her a commanding presence, while the fitted bodice embraced her figure with effortless grace. A satin belt with a gold buckle tightened her waist, and the A-line skirt fell just past the knee. Subtle gold accents traced the seams, giving the clothing a regal appearance. The garment, worn with tailored slacks underneath, gave her freedom of movement evoking the authority of an empress.

He just summoned the bloody Mother of the Infinite Realms, the mother of the prince of the Infinite Realms that defeated the tyrant Pariah Dark. He immediately prostates himself alongside the rest of the JL Dark realizing whom John Constantine just summoned.

…

The rest of the JL that remained standing looked in awe and caution at the being that Constantine managed to summon, as well as the rest of the JL Dark’s behavior towards the being. All sweaty and bowing in reverence. In the most polite tone they ever heard from the con artist he asked for their assistance in containing a rouge denizen and their payment for such an endeavor.

The being looked at each of them slowly, feeling their very instincts to bow at least at the being when they felt their eyes on them and ultimately paused on Batman. She pointed her weapon at the Bat cladded hero and asked him for him as payment, not anything that Constantine was thinking but hearing his skill as a great detective their payment was for Batman to look for her treasure that she had lost and at moment she had felt the moment they stepped into this universe. Batman agreed after they had smoothed over the details of said contract. The empress, Nightigale, summoned her knight and told him to deal with their denizen and toss them back into Walker’s prison.

Looking blankly at Batman, he had no choice but to let Empress Nightingale follow him back to the cave for her to foresee the investigation of her treasure and to ensure he fulfilled his end of the deal.

…

The moment Bruce stepped inside the cave he noticed Empress Nightgale had also stopped dead in her tracks and looked intently at his youngest, Danyal, who had been training at one of the cave’s training mats. What’s more interesting is that Danyal also stopped and stared at the visitor that Bruce brought along. Just as he was about the introduce the two, he saw Danyal the ever-quiet child sprung into life and tackled the empress, while Nightgale herself had her long arms wrapped around Danyal.

Bruce saw Danyal’s eyes spring into life, tears welled up in his eyes and a pure smile stretched across his youngest face. Suddenly Bruce felt Bane had punched him again, he had never seen his youngest so happy, so full of life ever since he met him. He always thought that his youngest was independent, so quiet that he had left him with his devices, somewhere within Bruce’s mind whispered that he was too late once again.

…

News about Danyal’s sudden change of attitude had reached all of the members, even in the deep corner of space.

Dick, Jason, and Tim are now seething with rage and disappointed at themselves for the wasted time they wasted in being Danyal’s life. Who has now an older sibling that despite his menacing appearance adored and teased Dnayal in a way that erupted laughs and giggles from the boy?

Dick forgetting that they were twins, Dick kept reassuring himself that he was too busy but with each memory that he visited Danyal is always right behind them looking at them with lifeless eyes, as if he had just made a different choice back then.

Jason for forgetting his ward that had adopted when he was in the League, probably the only thing that kept him sane as the green clouded in his mind when he was dunked in the pit was the fact his little chick was within the walls and the thought that he might hurt him halted his massacre.

Tim who had now noticed the small notes scattered on his desk that were not the handwriting of anyone he knew yet the initial DW, always assumed that it was Damian who was quietly helping him in cases but the revelation that it had been Danyal made him want to turn back time. He had noticed early on that Danyal wanted to be closer to him, but pushed the boy away for expecting to be like Damian.

Damian is seething with jealousy as he notices that Danyal begins spending most of his time outside with the demon that stole his brother. He kept bringing up to his father that the being that Constantine summoned was a demon already mind-controlled Danyal. But even though he cannot stop and drink in the joyful face that Danyal has whenever he is with Nightgale, he keeps remembering the time Danyal acted this way towards him.

Talia is also seething beneath her mask of indifference how dare this thing claim to be her son’s parent? It is not she who had given birth nor she is the one who ensured they both survive, but the fact that thing gifted Danyal the head of the Joker and her father’s head after revealing to her son her own father’s plan that even she is not privy on made her want to revive her father herself and be the one to end his pathetic life, how dare his father plan that horrendous ritual behind her back.

…

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

PPS: An inspiration bug bit me and would not let me rest until I finish this.

PPS: Got too long for my liking again.

#dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #danny fenton #jazz fenton

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heathermason6060 · 4 months ago

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Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: Stars in the Dark

Warnings/Mentions: Smut, unprotected p in v, emergency contraceptives, slight alcohol consumption, reader is strong (minor description)

Summary: You're a former farm hand at the Greene Farm. You swoon over the new hunter, and he notices.

Notes: This was one of the first requests I got and I'm so sorry it took me this long to put it out! I hope you're still around anon, and you enjoy.

It was an unusually cool day.

You sat on the front porch of the Greene house, watching as the strangers that were slowly becoming friends did their daily chores. Carol sat in the center of their camp, scrubbing clothes in a bucket next to Lori, who was hanging them up to dry. Andrea sat on the top of the RV, switching between her gun scope and her binoculars to observe the tree line. There was a man beside her, the one that was with Otis when he died, was his name Shawn? Shane?

It was hard to remember their names, there were so many of them.

But you didn't have trouble remembering Daryl’s name. Especially considering how often you would whimper it into your pillow at night.

You felt your cheeks heat up at the idea of him, your legs switching from being crossed at your ankles to your knees, the rocking chair beneath you swaying slightly.

Your eyes drifted to the man you'd been thinking of, watching as he walked back to the camp for lunch after spending the morning hunting. You'd been seeing more of him, especially after the whole incident with the walkers in the barn, something not even you had known about. You knew they were there, sure, but you had no idea the little girl they were looking for had been in there the whole time.

The Greene family had kept it from you for a while. You had gone to school with Maggie, Hershel's daughter, and she was able to get you a spring job working at her farm with the horses and cattle. They were even kind enough to let you have their spare bedroom downstairs near the back door. It was tiny, but it was free lodging, and you loved it.

That spring job turned into a summer job once the infection started. Hershel had done a pretty good job convincing you of his beliefs. You had little medical experience, mostly just patching up animals at the farm, especially the barn cat PeePoe, but you liked to believe Hershel knew what he was talking about. Even if it seemed a little farfetched. So, you kept their secret and minded your own business.

You were sort of glad Shane forced the whole thing to happen. The walkers in the barn were starting to really creep you out, especially with how much they began to rot over time.

The movement of two people sneaking around to the back of the house caught your eye and you saw Maggie and Glenn, something you'd grown accustomed to. She had a big smile, full of excitement and nervousness, and Glenn just looked thrilled to be there. You watched as they disappeared to the back workshop and felt envy bubble in your stomach.

The sound of that familiar gruff voice that you'd gotten really good at imagining at night startled you. You looked up and away from beside you, your mouth slightly open in surprise, not having heard him walk up on the porch.

“Hi?” You looked up at him, awkward and embarrassed from your earlier thoughts. You weren't used to seeing him so up close. He smelled like cigarettes and something else, something artificial, and when you saw him chewing something you realized it was the very faint scent of bubblegum.

“Patricia said you knew the shops in town. Can't find Glenn, and we need supplies for dinner tonight.” His eyes held little emotion, a bit of annoyance maybe. Annoyance at having to ask you, or annoyance at having to go into town instead of Glenn, you weren't sure.

“Yeah, I do.” You nodded slowly, trying to keep the filthy thoughts from your head as your eyes raked over his face and upper body, catching yourself and quickly looking back up at his face.

“Good. C'mon.” He didn't ask, he just slung his crossbow over his bloody ripped shirt, which you assumed was from the deer he had bagged that morning.

Patricia had mentioned to you in passing about wanting to have another group dinner that night, you didn't expect it to actually happen, given how awkward the last one had been at first. With the weather slowly fading into autumn and the crops dying from age, you figured it was necessary to get some supplies from town.

You didn't leave often. You didn't have a desire, or a need to, but the idea of being alone with Daryl had you almost skipping to his bike.

As much as you wanted to push Daryl against the wall of the corner store and kiss him till he passed out, you didn't feel like getting humiliated from rejection. You settled for just watching him as he moved, picking up cans and turning them over before stuffing them in his burlap potato sack.

The sight of his eyes flickering up over the aisle and landing right on yours snapped you out of your dirty daydream. You quickly looked down to your shelf, picking up a can of corn and pretending to be interested in the ingredients in it. Hmm, yes, Corn.

He eyed you through suspicious slits, having a hard time deciding between being concerned or annoyed.

Daryl didn't know much about you at all. He knew your name, he knew you were younger than Maggie but older than Beth and that you were a newer farmhand. The only people that ever talked about you never really spoke to him.

He did know that you were way too hot to be working on a farm shoveling horse shit. You belonged in a fuckin magazine, one of those that fashion ones Amy used to read back at their first camp in Atlanta. You were fit, you had to be for your job, what you looked like before all the labor-intensive work, he didn't know or care.

He'd never seen someone as hot as you in person. He couldn't even think of the words to describe you. You looked so out of place at that farm, it was like taking a supermodel and putting her in a gas station. He watched as you put food in your bag, trying not to get hard as his thoughts swiftly changed from admiring your beauty to imagining how you'd look when you came.

Daryl thought about that way too much already. He thought about it so much that he was confident he was spot on with the image of you he created in his mind. Alone in his far-off tent at night, not having to worry about getting caught, rubbing his dick raw to the thought of you naked, drooling and crying from pleasure under him.

“Okay, my bag’s full.” Your voice ripped him from his trance and he blinked a few times, realizing he'd been staring at the same can of peas for the past two minutes.

“Yeah. Alright.” He swept his arm across his shelf, knocking several cans into his bag and two on the floor. You jumped at the sound and he cursed, his brain still not working right with all the blood that went to his dick.

You peeked over the shelf to see two cans on the floor, one perfectly fine and the other surrounded in a gross pile of butter beans. No loss to you. Daryl snatched the can of diced tomatoes from the floor and put it in his bag, twisting it a few times before slinging it over the shoulder that didn't have the crossbow on it.

“How the hell are we gonna get these back?” You asked as you walked out the front door, trying not to fall head over heels when he stuck back to hold the door open for you. You thought he was being chivalrous, he just wanted to stare at your ass in those Bobbie Brooks as you walked to his bike.

“We'll figure it out.”

And you did, sort of, but it was incredibly awkward with a bag pressed between the two of you on the bike, and the other tied to your torso so it sat behind you. Thankfully, he drove thoughtfully slowly, and you were able to get back to the farm without incident.

You were happy to let the other women do the cooking, trying to pay attention to the rant Andrea was currently going on about how Lori loved her social norms.

The wind had grown a bit cooler, sending goosebumps over the back of your neck as the breeze blew through your hair.

“You ever cook?” Andrea said suddenly, a cautious edge to her voice as if she suddenly realized she had no idea how you felt about gender roles. “Or, like it, I mean?”

“Was more of an outdoor kind of girl.” You chuckled, leaning back in the plastic lawn chair around the fire you sat at.

Daryl was chopping wood, something you'd never been so interested in before. Andreas' conversation was getting real, real boring.

“Yeah. I liked fishing myself.” She grew silent after that, and you looked away from Daryl to see she had a far out look in her eyes.

“You okay?” You asked in a gentle voice, only earning a silent nod from her. You took that as your leave and gave her a comforting shoulder squeeze before heading inside. The sun would set in a few hours, and you wanted to change into warmer clothes before dinner.

You didn't expect to have Daryl sit beside you at dinner.

You didn't really expect him to come, let alone eat with the group. Last time he’d been stuck in the bed upstairs since he’d been shot by Andrea. You basically froze when you saw the seating arrangements.

It wasn't really his choice, honestly, everyone sat down so fast, the only two seats that were open were right beside each other. Looked like no one wanted to sit next to Shane. And from the look on his face, you didn't really want to either.

Relief flooded through you when Daryl sat down next to Shane. You took your seat beside Daryl, Andrea on your right. You smiled at Patricia in front of you, only getting a small one in return.

It wasn't as quiet or awkward as the last dinner. Spirits were a bit higher, although tense with the whole “prisoner in the barn” fiasco. You couldn't recall the name of the man that was currently chained up, but you did know Dale made a scene of fixing him a plate, much to Shane's objection.

You tried to distract yourself from their bickering by looking at Daryl. A quick bolt of subdued adrenaline coursed through you when you saw he was already looking at you. You looked away almost immediately out of reflex, and deciding against your better judgment, you looked back. He was still looking at you.

Daryl couldn't figure you out. If he had a bullet for how many times he caught you looking at him, he'd be able to kill every damn walker on earth.

It never even crossed his mind you were into him before that night. It seemed so farfetched, you were too fuckin pretty to be looking at him like that. Your features were so soft, even after all the work that had toughened your muscles, your face was still so…

Cute.

He didn't notice the tugging that had pulled at the corner of his mouth until it was a full-fledged smirk. He was about to look away when he realized how creepy he probably looked, staring down at you smirking without speaking, but the feeling of your knee bumping against his had his eyes locked to yours.

His smirk slowly faded, being replaced by a more serious expression, until he saw the soft smile on your lips.

Nah, she's just friendly. He found himself trying to explain away your actions, but a large part of him desperately wanted him to be wrong. Having such a sweet girl look up at him like that was uncharted territory, and his mind slowly drifted away to the idea of your uncharted territory. He would've snorted at the pun if not for the feel of your thigh pressing against his and staying there this time.

Neither of you had noticed, but the bickering had finally died down, and a different and lighter conversation was taking place.

Your silent interaction wasn't as private as it felt, the burn of Rick's eyes on his face had Daryl dragging his eyes to the leader of the group, holding so much cold annoyance towards the nosey man that it could've frozen hell.

Rick just grinned, happy to see at least some people weren't so miserable with how things were going and went back to picking at his plate with his fork, silently chuckling.

“Do you drink?” Your soft voice broke him from his thoughts, he looked back over to you, his expression softening when he saw you. He couldn't decide if he wanted to take you out back and fuck you in the grass like an animal, or take you to your bed and kiss every inch of your body.

“Sometimes.” He shrugged, his voice low and quiet amongst the chatter of the table. “Why?”

You shrugged in return, popping an apple slice in your mouth and crunching it before swallowing and speaking. “I found a bottle of wine today at the store. I don't really drink much anymore but wanted to find a reason to.”

Your open-ended words had him overthinking once again, over analyzing what you meant. Was he the reason to drink? Or did you have one already? Before he could leave you in more silence your thigh moved against his again, bringing his attention back to you.

“What're you askin’ me?” He needed to hear you clearly state your intentions, not wanting to humiliate himself by accepting a nonexistent request.

“If you'll join me.” Your voice was quiet, almost too quiet, and it took him a few seconds to process what you'd said.

He looked you over, his eyes narrowing as he searched your face for any sign of a trick. You smiled nervously, your eyes flickering to and fro, only settling on his eyes for a second a time. Something about you being unable to keep eye contact stirred something in him, something he was painfully unfamiliar with. He wanted to grab your chin and make you look up at him, make you speak up, make you tremble under his touch-

“You can say no.” He snapped out of it to see your smile had faded to fear of rejection.

“No. I want to.” He answered immediately, nodding and earning another smile from you.

You met him in the front field, holding your bundled up blanket with the wine bottle inside. You were originally going to bring glasses, but said fuck it, you could drink from the bottle. You did forget to bring a bottle opener, though, something Daryl was happy to help with.

He took the bottle from you and sat down on the blanket beside you, pulling a switchblade from his back pocket and beginning to work it into the cork.

“Hershel said something about moving you guys inside soon.” You commented as he blew a few chunks of broken cork from his blade.

“I'll pass.” He grunted, digging the blade back into the cork.

You looked away, your heart dropping at his words.

“Can't stop thinking about it.”

“Huh?”

“About winter.” You thought you might've just been imagining it, but you swore you saw his face drop in disappointment at your answer.

Finally, you heard the pop of the cork finally coming out, and he took the first swig, spitting out the few pieces of cork that had fallen in after he demolished the poor thing.

He handed it back to you and you took a deep swig, trying to get as much courage as possible. You didn't know how to act around Daryl. He was so unpredictable, nothing like the other men you'd crushed on before. They were all easy, quick to accept your subliminal hints.

But Daryl? You could tell him you wanted to suck his dick till he couldn't breathe, and he'd probably laugh, thinking you were just joking, and go off and hunt or whatever it was he did all day.

It was easy for your mind to wander in the silence. You handed the bottle back to Daryl as you slowly undressed him in your head, imagining him taking your clothes off, his lips all over your neck, switching between your different fantasies. Rough, violent and painful, sweet, slow and deep, or quick, needy and dirty. You wondered what he would be like, was he experienced? Would he be able to make you cum just with his fingers? Or was he the opposite? Either way you wanted him, so unreasonably bad, you'd never felt this way about a man before. If someone told you a witch put a lust spell on you strictly for him, you'd believe it in a heartbeat. You didn't even know his favorite color. Or what type of music he listened to.

“Shit, get down.” His hand on your chest pushing you to your back had your heart in your throat. You tilted your head back to see Maggie and Glenn, sneaking away once again. Daryl relaxed at the realization that it was just them and drew his hand away from you.

“Lucky them.” You grumbled, taking the bottle from him and taking a sip. You were happily buzzed at this point, eager to make conversation but not at the point where you'd make a fool of yourself.

“Hmm. Yeah.” He agreed, watching as they slipped behind the stables. “Lucky.”

With your newfound courage, you decided to test the waters in a way that you felt seemed completely unsuspecting and not suspicious at all.

“Must be nice to have someone like that to take your mind off things for a while.” You commented casually, your gaze now back at the stars.

“Wouldn't know.” His gruff reply gave you motivation to push on.

“Yeah, me neither.” You couldn't think of the words that wouldn't possibly spook him off. Little did you know, Daryl wasn't some cornered frightful animal, he was thinking of the same things and worse than you. He'd been looking at you, his chest rising and falling in short quick breaths, his eyes all over your body beside him.

“Those stars look better laying down.” He felt like an obviously desperate teenager after saying that, but when you immediately laid down on the blanket he smirked a bit. Maybe it wasn't such a stupid suggestion.

He took a deep sip of wine and looked over you, noticing you'd changed back into your jean shorts after dinner. It was odd, he thought, considering the chill in the air, but he wasn't complaining. The way he looked at your bare legs was akin to someone on a diet looking at a plate of fresh, hot salty fries. His mouth watered, not from the idea of fries, but from the idea of sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your thighs so hard you'd be littered with bruises.

Daryl wanted to touch you so goddamn bad. But being him, he was too disgusted by the idea of getting the nerve to reach out and touch your thigh and having you pull away, shout at him, storm off and never talk to him again.

And you being you, you were too terrified at the idea of making the first move and getting a similar reaction.

So you stared up at the stars, forcing yourself to concentrate, before that last bit of wine spread through your body and gave you enough confidence to look at him.

A buzzed smile spread on your lips when you saw he was already looking at you. And not your face either, but your thighs, and to gauge his reaction you trailed your hand down your torso to casually rest at the bottom of your shorts. You toyed with it, a bit, pretending you had an itch under the fabric and slipping your fingers under the hem.

He looked at your face then.

“You look real good.” He blurted, and froze at his words, ready to get up and bolt if you reacted the wrong way.

“You look really pretty.” You responded without thinking, earning a look of confusion from him. “I mean, in a good way, like you could model in one of those underground fashion shows-” You cut yourself off before you could humiliate yourself further, but the grin on his face put you at ease. And made you a little tiny bit bolder.

Neither of you knew what to say. He suddenly grabbed the wine and took an exceptionally impressive sip, leaving the bottle half empty.

It was a few moments before either of you spoke again.

“What did you do before this?” You asked, trying to ease the tension enough to relax the both of you.

He snorted at that question, shaking his head and looking away from you. “Same as everyone else. Lived. Paid for food.”

You took that as the best answer you'd get from him and decided to use the boldness you'd earned from the alcohol.

“Did you have a girlfriend?”

He must've found your question amusing, because he snorted. “Psh. No. You got a boyfriend?”

You noticed his question was in the present tense, not past like yours. “No.”

He grunted and shifted in his spot so his forearms rested on his knees. He toyed with the grass for a bit, snapping off blades and picking them apart into little green confetti pieces.

Daryl gave up on talking. He looked down at you again, seeing you were looking at the stars again, but not really seeing them. With the wine induced confidence he wasn't sure if he was thankful for yet, he reached out for you, his fingertips ghosting your knee. His eyes flickered to your face, and when he saw the expression it held there, he decided he was very grateful for the wine.

You sucked in a sharp breath, your lips parted and your eyebrows a bit furrowed. It was funny, with that look you'd think he had slipped his hands in your shorts. And when his hand fully pressed down on your thigh you closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, your body giving a billion silent ‘finally, finally, yes, yes, yes’.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout this for a while.” His gravelly voice sent chills through your entire body.

“I can't stop thinking about it.” You admitted.

“Yeah?” Your confession had him spinning, his hand now in the pocket of your shorts, two of his fingers dipping in to pull the two of you closer together.

You found it hard to speak, so you settled on a whiny and desperate ‘Uh-huh’.

He smirked down at you, his fingers back at your inner thigh. His touch was lazy, but deliberate, his rough fingers slipping up your thigh to the top of your shorts again. He ached to tease you, watch you whimper and squirm under you, but it was getting progressively harder. He glanced over his shoulder at the house, seeing all the windows dark besides Beth's bedroom. He then looked over the moonlit field, concerned for a moment about walkers, but when he saw the fence he felt all concern melt away.

Daryl's hand continued roaming over your body, relishing in each little whimper being pulled from your throat. The thought that he was doing this to you, it was him making you into this needy little mess, it gave him a new sense of pride he hadn't felt in a long time.

“You look real damn good.” He repeated his earlier compliment. The way you looked laying down beside him, your long sleeve shirt pushed up around your stomach, your chest rising and falling sharply, had his heart racing despite the buzz he had going on.

“Thank you.” Your voice was barely a whisper, sending a shiver through him at the sound of it. Your body arched into his touch, desperate to have his hand move from your stomach either up or down.

“You feel real damn good too.” He muttered, loving the way your body was responding to his touch.

“God. So do you.” You breathed out a long exhale, looking up at him like he was the prettiest thing above you, not the stars.

“Yeah?” His voice had taken on a higher pitch, a bit teasing, making you involuntarily whimper at the sound of it. He suddenly took it up ten notches, sliding his hand up your shirt to your breast. You had to bite back the moan that you knew would either call walkers or humans if you made it. While he played with your nipple, rougher than you expected, his other hand popped open the button on your shorts.

You didn't have time to be impressed before his hand shoved its way through your tight shorts to your panties, catching you completely off guard with how suddenly forward it was. A strangled groan and the sight of your eyes squeezing shut had him teasing you again. “S’been a while, huh?”

You nodded frantically, biting down hard on your bottom lip. Your legs trembled, moving apart so he could move his hand easier. He eagerly took advantage of the new space and moved his fingers through the sides of your panties, beelining for your clit. You weren't sure if it was experience, or if he just wasn't stupid, but the way he rubbed your embarrassingly slick clit had your head reeling.

“You want me to take care of this little ache you got goin’ on?” The fact his southern drawl had gotten much stronger was almost enough to make you cum. Coupled with the dirty words he was saying, which was something you didn't expect from Daryl at all, your face burned with embarrassment.

“Please.” You choked out, your hands gripping onto the blanket under you, having no idea what to do with your hands.

He put more weight on his hands as he shuffled so close that he was basically on top of you. His middle finger slid into you, and the feigned cockiness quickly left his body when he felt you. He didn't know if he'd last more than ten seconds inside you. You were unbearably hot and wet. And just by the way you squeezed his finger, he couldn't imagine how that would feel on something bigger like his dick.

Your worries were right, your orgasm came so fast you were humiliated. He'd barely curled his fingers inside you a few times, something you had to teach him through your haze, and you groaned, low and guttural.

His eyes widened when he realized what was happening, your orgasm catching him off guard. He took his hand that was busy pinching your incredibly sore nipples and clamped it firmly over your mouth, muffling your cries, even though they were enough to give him enough material to jerk his dick to for months.

He'd need to find somewhere he could let you scream in peace. But for now, he'd have you right here, keep his hand over your mouth and fuck you into the grass.

Daryl watched you come undone under his fingers like it would be the last time he'd ever see it. Memorizing the way your hips rolled up into his hand, the way they pulled away when you arched your back. The way your eyebrows pulled tightly together, then the way they relaxed as you rode out your high, your eyes fluttering like they couldn't decide on opening or staying closed.

“Jesus Christ woman.” He breathed, his eyes dark and wild, like he'd just watched a miracle being performed in front of him. To Daryl it was. He felt an unbridled sense of satisfaction knowing he was the one who did that to you.

You relaxed fully, your hips pulling away from his rough fingers and thumb, which were still stroking your clit.

“Ain't done with you yet.” He pulled his hand from your shorts, leaving a trail of shimmering wetness on your stomach.

“God. You're so pretty.” You said breathlessly, looking up at him again with that damn look on your face as you struggled to sit up to take your clothes off.

“You think I'm pretty? Yeah? C'mon then, show me.” He grabbed your hands, bringing them to his chest, forcing you to touch him. Your mind spun, still recovering from the first orgasm you'd had in god knows how long, trying to take over control as he used your hands to unbutton his plaid button up, not caring if you saw him shirtless because of how dark it was. The red one with the sleeves torn off, it was your favorite. It was almost a loss to see him remove it, that was until he brought your hands back to touch his chest again.

You decided you liked his direction, and let him move your hands down his chest to his jeans. Your hands fumbled with his belt buckle, messing up one too many times. He unbuckled it for you, deciding he was too impatient to wait on you, undoing his jeans and tugging them down just enough to get his cock out.

When he finally tugged it out you tried your best to memorize every single detail about it. The glint of the moon on the bead of precum at the slit, the way the tip was darker than the pale base, the way his unruly pubes looked exactly like you'd imagined.

Your hands reached out to grab the length of his cock and he sucked in a sharp breath, his head tipping back as he muttered out a string of curses you couldn't understand through his thick accent.

He was so fucking glad he jerked off in his tent before he came out to meet you. Or else just that touch alone would've had him busting in your hands.

The sound of him spitting into his hand made your core do that flip and you let out a shaky breath, watching as he rubbed his palm over the tip of his cock.

He said nothing as he manhandled you, pushing your shorts right down your thighs, ignoring your little sound of surprise. He pulled you into his lap, and the way he took full control of your body like you were a puppet had you growing wetter than you thought possible. He moved you like you weighed nothing, one hand holding your side in a firm grip to keep you hovering over his dick. He was going to spit again, but you sank down against him and he felt how wet you were, he sputtered out a groan and swallowed his spit.

He reached down between you and grabbed his dick, trying to guide it to the right spot in the confusion of his lust clouded brain and how wet and hot everything felt. You grabbed his hand and aimed it right at your soaking entrance, and sank your hips down.

His head barely nudged against your entrance before it slid away, up through your lips and bumping your sensitive clit roughly. You hissed at the feeling and he grunted in irritation.

“Here-” You pulled back from him, which he objected to for a split second, the idea of you separating from him not an option he wanted to consider. But when you started laying down on your back he moved forward on top of you, grabbing your thigh to hike it up over his waist.

The new angle made things much easier, although your tightness still proved to be a slight inconvenience. You cursed yourself for being so sexually inactive, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt the burn of his tip slowly pushing inside you.

His mouth found your neck as he lowered his body flat on yours, his weight nearly crushing your chest under his. He kissed your neck as he felt the resistance finally give, his head popping inside you and the rest of his dick pushing forward easier.

You still saw stars when you closed your eyes, your body freezing from the mind numbing pleasure at the feeling of him filling you in a way you'd either never experienced, or had long forgotten. When the burn of the intrusion finally gave away and melted into complete bliss you relaxed under him, your hips angling up to drive him deeper.

Daryl groaned in your neck, the sound stuttered as he fought to gain his bearings. His hand tugging his dick to the thought of you was something he never thought he'd top. The feeling of you wrapped around it was something he knew he'd never top.

The tension between you broke and he finally began moving, dragging his dick out painfully slowly before plunging it back in, fitting like the last piece of a puzzle he'd been working on his whole life.

He let out a low groan, sinking his teeth into the meat of your neck and bringing a high pitched cry from your mouth.

“Nuh-uh.” He panted, his hips picking up a faster pace as he pulled away from your neck. “You gotta be quiet, sweetheart.”

“Mhmm!” You clenched your jaw, your eyes fluttering open to look at him above you. His eyes dark, his mouth open as he breathed heavily, beads of sweat forming at his hairline. The sight had you arching your back, making him groan at the feeling of you squeezing and pulling on his dick. He really did look so fucking pretty.

Daryl looked down at you, eyes tracing over your face twisted in pleasure, and he felt you grow wetter around him. The way your body responded to him had him trembling. He couldn't get enough of you. He needed more. He grabbed your hips, his grip firm enough to keep you in place as he sped up.

The quickening of his rough thrusts had your head lolling to the side, each thrust knocking a breathless moan from your lips. They were quiet, to be heard by him alone, which was more than enough for him. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he fought to keep his composure, the last bit of him that he had under control worried about possibly hurting you.

But that concern quickly went out the window when you started begging.

“Please.” Your words bubbled from your chest, hot and desperate. “Please!”

“Please what?” He hissed, his brows furrowed in confusion as he fucked deep into you. “Use your words, tell me whatcha want. I'll give it to you.”

“More, please, I don't know.” You babbled under him, trying your best to stay quiet. “Harder, more, I don't-”

He moved on you, suddenly putting all the weight of his upper body into his grip on your hips, right before he started fucking you so hard you lost the ability to speak.

Each thrust sent a bolt of sharp and deep pleasure through your pussy, up your body and ending with a tingle on your scalp. You couldn't moan, even if you wanted to, his movements were so rough it felt like each snap of his hips knocked the air from your lungs. You knew there'd be a deep imprint of your ass in the dirt tomorrow from how much weight he was boring down on you, and the sensation of that alone made your head spin.

Your sharp gasps that were in sync with his thrusts neared a dangerous volume, and he slowed his hips, using the opportunity to catch his breath.

“Ya gotta be quiet. M’serious.” He whispered, his thumbs pressing down on the sides of your stomach when your whimpers had yet to cease. “Gonna have to stop.”

You spewed out a soft stream of no’s, your hands wrapping around his wrists as if you had the strength to keep him there. “I will, sorry.”

He nodded in response and carried back on with quicker thrusts, his mouth open as he sucked in shaky breaths. Daryl couldn't take his eyes off you. He wished he had met you a year ago, before all this happened, so he could fuck you without worrying about walkers, getting caught, he wanted desperately to hear every sound he earned from you. He was the reason you were a broken mess; he deserved to hear and have all of you.

Your right hand let go of his wrist to snake under his stomach, your flat fingers rubbing firm massages on your greedy clit. The sight had a choked moan sounding from his throat and you whined in response, the sound sending long bolts of pleasure through your core.

“Daryl, so close.” You whispered, your toes curling from their spot at the base of his spine.

He understood your meaning and set a steadier pace, not too rough or fast, but deep and steady enough to guarantee your final orgasm, since his first with you was approaching.

Daryl wasn't stupid, he meant to pull out, truly, but when you came and squeezed his cock like a fist, he couldn't help it. His body trembled and he choked, gasping and whimpering as he came with you.

Your jaw dropped and you saw more than stars, you saw the whole damn galaxy. Daryl quickly pressed his hand over your mouth to muffle your obscene moans, his hips stuttering as he finished the last drop in his orgasm.

“My God. My God. Oh my God.” You panted after he removed his hand, your eyes bleary and wet, your body vibrating with exhausted shakes as your ecstasy slowly faded away. Your hands and feet felt cold and numb, and when he pulled away it felt like someone had taken something from you. You whimpered in a soft objection as his wrist left your grip.

“Goddamn.” He sat back to stuff his raw dick back in his jeans, twitching when he felt the uncomfortable friction from his boxers, it was too stimulating.

It took you some time to put your clothes back on, when you were finally dressed you were too exhausted to do anything but lay there on the blanket and catch your breath.

Neither of you spoke for a while, sitting in silence to regain your bearings and enjoy the final moments of buzz from sex. As soon as he came down from his high, he grabbed the abandoned bottle of wine and drank nearly the rest of it.

“I'm gonna go shower.” You breathed, sitting upright to find your shoes and put them back on.

“G’night.” He muttered between swigs.

“Goodnight Daryl. That was amazing.” You thanked him with a quick kiss that seemed to startle him.

He sucked his teeth in embarrassment, waving you off as if to say, ‘it's nothing'. He watched you walk away, scratching the backs of your arms, itching from the grass. Daryl turned back to the woods and finished the bottle before chucking it into the field, eventually leaving for his tent, bringing your blanket with him.

You took the best bath you could manage with your supplies; it wasn't as satisfying as a hot shower with your old fancy soaps and shampoos, but you were too exhausted to do more than just clean yourself. You barely even wrapped your hair with a towel before tripping into your room and falling on your bed.

You yelped when you felt something hard like at your back and you leaned up on your elbow to see a small box with a note.

From Lori. Use these next time. -Maggie

You sighed in relief when you saw it was emergency contraceptives and a pack of condoms, despite the pit in your stomach from knowing Maggie had seen you. It was something you should have already planned for yourself, the condoms, but it was hard to think straight when you were horny over Daryl Dixon.

SHANE JUMPSCAPRE

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams

1K notes · View notes

blooberrries · 11 months ago

Text

『consequential』 — satoru

— pairing: satoru x afab!reader — wc: 5k — content: mdni, nsfw; vampire au, college/university au, jealous/possessive satoru, blood drinking, vampire bites (chest, neck and arm), alcohol, mutual pining (a distant relative of idiots to lovers), piv sex, love bites (heh literally), standing/sex against the wall (he holds you up the entire time because he's actually insane), unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming,he's a bit of a simp really idk if that was planned — notes: got possessed by the Horny Spirit, also not proofread. enjoy? also be gentle with me I haven't written smut in over a year

prompt: ["Oh, don't be cute."] + [“you’re all mine” - “hm…” - “say it” - “i’m all yours”]

While slightly spiteful, your plan had been simple and had about a 50/50 chance of succeeding, with minimal loss to you if it didn’t.

Two weeks ago Gojo Satoru had— after months of asking for it and being denied by you— finally gotten your permission to drink your blood. So he’d gone ahead and bitten you, you’d loved it and probably fell even more annoyingly head over heels for him as a result of the oddly erotic experience, and the way he had acted during the whole ordeal gave you a decent indication that he most definitely felt the same way you did.

You’d expected things to finally change between you after that, hell you’d actually been excited for it.

But instead of leaning into the shift in the dynamic between you, Satoru had instead decided to pretend you didn’t exist and proceeded to completely avoid you for the last two weeks.

(Which is actually quite the feat considering how much overlap there is between your friend groups. But you’re not impressed. You’re mad.)

To say you were upset would be an understatement. Your pride was wounded along with your ego, and you felt foolish and embarrassed and stupidly angsty. The unfortunate reality is that you’re not very good at processing those feelings, so in your time of need you turned to your most faithful, long-time friend: spite.

You know for a fact that Satoru likes the way you smell and taste– it’s one of the many things he’d let slip when sucking the blood ever so gently from the puncture he’d made in the soft flesh of your inner forearm. So you decided to wait until the prime part of your cycle, where the supernatural consensus said humans smelt their best, and you’d procured a tincture from your witch-in-training friend that would accentuate the natural appeal of your blood for certain creatures of the night (she’d assured you it was safe, but you have your own means of defending yourself anyway so you aren’t too worried.)

Then, you’d waltzed your way into a party that was being held at his shared accommodation and made it a point to have fun. The real goal of your plan, besides sticking it to him in the most subtle-not-subtle way ever, was also just to feel better about yourself. Your expectations being upended regarding how you’d hoped things would develop with Satoru had been a big blow and would take some TLC from yours truly to recover from.

You’ve had fun so far, you’re only a drink or so in and pleasantly buzzed, and you’re getting a lot of compliments on your perfume. You can’t exactly tell them you’re not wearing anything but eau de spite, but it does feel nice nonetheless. Each comment is like a balm to your poor, chafed ego. The only wrench in the works is that as expected, not long after you arrived, Satoru noticed you.

And then proceeded to continue in his efforts to avoid and ignore you. He’d disappeared into the throng of people on the other side of the house before you could even blink.

It takes a strongly mixed cocktail, courtesy of Shoko who you’re not sure isn’t trying to kill you with the alcohol content of these drinks, for you to settle your fuming. This is stupid— no, he’s stupid. Stupid sexy vampire with his stupid pretty eyes and stupid pretty face. How dare he let you make a fool of yourself by thinking there could be anything more between you! You never should have let him bite you. At least then things would still be the same and you wouldn’t be so torn between throttling him and kissing him.

Angrily, you take a hearty gulp of your drink. Despite the superficial fruity flavour it burns on the way down, unsurprisingly, and you have to breathe slowly through your nose so it doesn’t come back up. You’re no longer uncertain; you’re confident this cocktail is an attempt on your life.

It’s as you’re nursing that drink and leaning angstily against a wall in the corner of the room, that you sense someone approach you. Your eyes take a moment to adjust as you look up, surprise filtering through you once you register the figure by your side.

“Hey.”

Your brows shoot up, a small grin tugging your lips. “Oh? Long time no see, Mei Mei. What cave have you crawled out of to be here tonight?”

The snow-haired woman rolls her eyes, lips twitching. Her tongue darts to swipe over the tip of a pointed canine.

“Oh, you know, every homebody has to come out to play every once in a while.” Her nose twitches, and she leans forward slightly to inhale. Her eyes flutter wide in pleasant surprise. “Well, don’t you smell absolutely divine tonight. Special occasion?”

Kind of, but you’re not about to tell her that. Mei Mei can be a decent enough acquaintance so long as you keep her at arm’s length.

“I’m trying something new,” you answer simply. She hums, and when her body angles towards you again ever so slightly you become aware of the most odd, prickly sensation. It tickles the hairs at the back of your neck, and you fight the peculiar urge to turn and look around. All you’d see is dancing bodies and stumbling drunks, anyway.

“It suits,” Mei Mei purrs with a smile that makes you a little nervous. Music throbs against your body so strongly that for a moment you’re not sure whether the beat you’re feeling in your chest belongs to your heart or the song. “Though you ought to be careful going on campus smelling like that. You’ll lure in every bloodsucker in a five-mile radius.”

You suppose that means the tincture is doing its job. The way her eyes are appraising your pulse points keeps you feeling nervous, though. Perhaps… it wasn’t the best idea to make yourself smell so scrumptious after all. There are more than a few loose canons in the area.

It’s a little too late for regrets now, though. At this point you just gotta double down and own the decision.

“Noted,” you say, taking a hearty sip of your death-in-a-cup. The burn is now a pleasant distraction. You smile at Mei Mei and feel that prickly, hot feeling increase tenfold. What is that?!

The sensation has your heart rate elevating slightly, and it must make the aroma of your blood a little stronger because the vampire before you lets out a soft groan, her eyes fluttering shut. Almost like it’s instinct, she takes a step closer and leans her head towards the crook of your neck. Your startle is almost imperceptible, and you’re thankful that the top you opted for is one that saved the neck exposure for a well-placed boob window instead. The fabric covering half the expanse of your throat is probably the only reason you don’t freak out at her actions.

Her nose brushes your skin, dragging up the column of your throat until it flirts with the bottom of your earlobe. Your heart skips a beat before tumbling into a full gallop. It’s different to how it felt with Satoru— you don’t like this nearly as much. Your legs tense with the urge to leave.

“Really,” she says, purring your name. “You’ve got me feeling quite peckish. Won’t you let me have a little sn–“

A grip winds around your wrist like a vice, not painful but certainly unforgiving. Startled, you look up and see the person of the hour, the vampire you went to all this effort to torment in the hopes he would want you again. Wow, it doesn’t sound great when you think of it like that. The alcohol is certainly not helping your self-esteem right now.

Satoru’s pretty baby-blues are dark, pupils blown wider than you’ve ever seen before, and his entire body is riddled with tension. He almost looks like the slightest pressure would have him snapping in half. His jaw is locked tightly, and he hisses through clenched teeth and descended fangs.

“Come with me. Now.”

You don’t get the chance to bid Mei Mei farewell, not that you really want to, and the last thing you see as you’re dragged out of the room is her waving a manicured hand your way, mouthing a playful ‘goodbye’. She looks far too amused for your comfort.

Right now, Satoru is nothing like the cheeky, carefree, shit-stirring bastard you’ve come to know and love. That isn’t to say you’re completely opposed to it, because the way he looks like know is a pretty big turn-on. But still – the difference is startling. You’re not sure how to navigate the situation.

Before you know it you’ve been unceremoniously relocated to his bedroom, and he is pressing you against the door the second it closes behind you with a heavy, loud THUD.

For a moment, the only sound that fills the space is that of the music beyond the wooden barrier. The bass is no longer indistinguishable with your heart beat – the stuttering rhythm that echoes against your rib cage is all you.

Satoru inhales deeply as though to calm himself down, only to let out a long, low groan immediately after. The sound affects you more than it probably should, heat winding pleasantly up your spine.

“What was that?” He demands, brows snapping together. It takes you a moment to realise that he’s most likely referring to Mei Mei being horny on main just before. His massive frame boxes you in against the door in such a way that you’re almost embarrassed by how much it makes your tummy flutter.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you breathe, chin tilted up as you hold his gaze. Something feral flickers through his expression.

“Oh, don’t be cute.” The words snap into the air, causing your breath to hitch. Satoru’s eyes flick to your forearm, where the slightest bruise still remains from the last time you were in close quarters like this. He swallows, piercing gaze returning to your own.

“I told you.” Satoru’s words leave in a snarl, his fingers firm against the flesh of your hips. His own body is so close to yours that you can feel the heat of it, the tingle of electricity that arcs between you. “That I would be able to smell it if another vampire so much as breathed near you. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you getting chummy with one in my own home?”

You can easily recall him saying that to you almost a fortnight ago, when he had been commenting that he could tell you hadn’t been bitten before thanks to his sharp senses and all that. You didn’t think he was lying. You are surprised that he cares, though. Something like indignation bubbles beneath your lungs, because how dare the bastard spout that shit when he just spent the last two weeks since your ‘encounter’ pretending you didn’t exist.

“Not sure why you give a shit,” you retort, squashing down a whine that begins to rise in your throat when his hips begin to press into yours. “Seemed like you were done with me after you finally got that taste you wanted so bad.”

His brows scrunch together, appearing confused for a second amongst the agitation on his features. You decide to fill the gap in the conversation on his behalf.

“I really was just a Sip ‘n’ Dip to you, huh,” you scoff, letting your head fall back against the door. His eyes snap to the column of your throat, more of which is now exposed. “At least now I know the only thing you want from me is my blood. Really saved me some grief there, Satoru.”

“Excuse me?”

When your eyes slide back to his face, he looks like you’ve physically struck him. His fingers dig into your hips almost out of habit, just shy of being painful. Anger still bubbles beneath your sternum, and you glare at him.

“By the way, as far as I’m aware, biting me once doesn’t give you any exclusive rights to my blood, so where the hell do you get off getting so shitty because someone else took a whiff–“

Satoru snaps.

“I don’t just want your blood,” he snarls, lips curling away from pin-prick sharp fangs. He has the nerve to look insulted. “I want you, you stupidly oblivious pain in my ass. All of you.”

He then leans in, erasing any foreign scents lingering on you and replacing it with something of his own, whatever pheromone bullshit vampires do. You’re too busy trying to stop your heart from having palpitations to focus on it too much because what the fuck did he just say—

“Do you have any idea how close I am to losing myself to a frenzy, like a fucking fledgling?!” His lips brush over the pulse point at your neck, and then teeth, razor-sharp and full of promise, drag over the skin of your clavicle, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. You shiver, flushing with heat and desire. The threat of another bite is already enough to have your body reacting in memory of how the last one felt. You want him, god you want him so, so badly.

“I haven’t fed since then because I can’t get the taste of you out of my head, and I can’t stomach anything else. I can’t stop thinking about the noises you made when I sank my teeth into you, and the scent of absolute desire that filled the entire fucking room the second the venom kicked in for you.” Satoru’s words are punctuated by a prick just below your collarbone, the brief sting eliciting a gasp. Warmth begins to trickle thinly from the site and is quickly staunched by a press of his tongue, and he moans. You’re so painfully aroused that it nearly makes you dizzy. He groans, long and suffering. “Just like now.”

He moves lower and lower, hauling you off the floor and completely into his hold so his mouth can reach your chest without stooping. Suddenly in the air, you can’t help the way you yelp and wrap your legs tightly around his hips – which, in turn, presses the heat of your core against the very prominent bulge there. You both echo a groan.

“Coward,” you manage to pant, out of sheer spite if nothing else. “Stupid idiot. I clearly want you. I literally could not have been any more obvious, you’re so –“

His teeth sink into the exposed top of your breast, retracting once they puncture deep enough to get a good flow. Then, he latches firmly onto the flesh, sucking it into his mouth. The act startles a moan out of you, the venom from the initial bite already transmuting the pain into heady pleasure and sending heat through your veins, all while kicking your heart into an even faster beat. Perhaps one of the best perks of the venom is that after that first dose settles in, the only part of the process left for you to feel is pleasure.

Even while you’re unable to help the way your hips roll into his own, and unable to ignore the feral, sinful moans vibrating against your chest as he suckles the wound he made and drinks from you, you manage to continue insulting him.

“You’re so stupid, why the hell did you avoid me for two weeks huh?” A moan breaks up your complaint as he swipes his tongue in broad movements over the bite, his hips snapping into yours and pressing you further into the door. The wood creaks, but neither of you pay it any mind. You can barely function around the incredible sensation of his cock grinding against you through layers of clothing. “All you did was send mixed messages and piss me off and, ngh fuck–“

He pulls back enough that you can see the flush in his face, the feral gleam in his eyes and the smear of blood over swollen lips. His brows are furrowed, but he’s too besotted by the taste of you to have as much heat behind his glare as he did previously.

“There are some things you can’t take back,” he grits out, tongue coming to clean the red from his lips. Your heart stutters, pulse thudding in your ears. “Especially for my kind. If I didn’t stay away, I probably would have ended up doing one of those things.”

Your core positively throbs with need, clenching around nothing. The extent to which you want him right now has you more irritable than usual. “Satoru, I wouldn’t have let you drink from me if I wasn’t interested in everything else it would entail—“

“You don’t understand,” Satoru groans, freeing a hand to rip at the material of your shirt. Clawed fingertips slice through with ease, taking out the bra straps underneath as well. He makes quick work of the band beneath your chest and the underwear is then torn from your form and thrown somewhere in the background. The material of your top remains, and he yanks it down below your aching breasts, watching with rapt attention as they bounce free heavily. Barely allowing you time to moan, he lifts you higher in his arms and dives down to drag his teeth over the swollen globes. He nips and nibbles across the sensitive skin, eliciting all sorts of sounds from you and an unbearable amount of desire that shoots straight between your legs. You can feel slick arousal trickling from your aching cunt with each new miniscule bite Satoru delivers, but honestly at this point you’re too horny to be embarrassed.

“I already want everything you can give me, and more.” He bites the inside of your breast and the flesh gives easily beneath the razor-sharp point of his fangs. One of his hands comes to grip the other side of your chest while he laps and sucks at the blood welling in the wound. Your nipples are painfully hard and you feel like you could cry in relief when his long, nimble fingers begin to deliver them some much-needed attention. “I want every single part of you and I don’t want to share. This is the way I am built. I can’t do this with you again and let you go afterwards. I want you to be mine.”

You probably shouldn’t find that as romantic as you do, but aren’t really in a position to psycho-analyse your response right now. It’s not all that surprising, either, since you recall someone mentioning to you before how strongly vampires bond with their partner when they finally make their choice. As it happens, his confession serves to not only make your heart soar but your pussy throb. You’ve been pining for this man for years, so even amongst the haze of lust clouding your mind you don’t have to think about how to respond to it.

This is, after all, the solution you were hoping for two weeks ago.

“I don’t want you to let me go, or take anything back. Please bite me again, mark me up–” You pause to gasp, Satoru having shoved your skirt up to bunch around your hips. Your panties are gone a split-second later, likely discarded in the same manner as your bra, and the hand that was at your breast is now trailing your slit and gathering all the slick that has pooled there. His middle finger dips in, causing a stutter in your breath. You lean forward to whisper in his ear, snowy strands of hair tickling your cheeks as you do so. “And please, please fuck me, Satoru.”

Something snaps in him, and he doesn’t need to be told twice.

A feral snarl escapes him, a gravelly “fuck” the only warning you get before his teeth sink down just above your nipple, fangs retracting once blood wells to the surface, and he pulls both the wound and your stiffened peak into his mouth, sucking hard. There isn’t a single ounce of pain, only the white-hot pleasure that shoots to your clit and has you keening as a result, hands scrabbling for purchase along his broad shoulders. That free hand that was at your slit has made quick work of his pants and is now guiding his scalding member to slap against your clit, and then press against your entrance while you recover from the shock of pleasure.

You expected him to be well-endowed, and you’re not at all disappointed. Satoru’s cock is fat and long, and with one roll of his hips it spears right into you. There is no resistance, you’re far too aroused and wet for there to be any, but the feeling of being split open by such a monster quite literally knocks the breath out of you. You hardly recognise the noise that escapes you as one of your own, hands gripping the vampire’s hair and shoulder so tightly you’d be worried about hurting him if he was human. He isn’t, though, and without even noticing your grip continues drinking from you while latched to your breast, tongue pressing and rolling your aching nipple all the while.

A second is all you get to adjust to the foreign length inside you before Satoru rolls his hips back with a moan, the fat head of his cock dragging against your walls as he does so, and then slams it back in. He builds a rhythm immediately that is almost animalistic in its desperation and fervour, each thrust firm and hitting so deep inside that you honest to god think it has you seeing stars. Whines and moans tumble from your mouth, no longer able to be held back when the only thing your brain can comprehend is the sheer pleasure and ecstasy that burns and sparks along your limbs. He begins to hit a certain spot when he fucks up into your heat that has you clenching around him, slick gushing forth.

“FUCK.” He rips away from your chest to tilt his head back in a rough, stilted moan, his hands gripping and digging into the meat of your thighs where they melt into your ass. In the absence of his mouth, blood begins to dribble down the swell of your breast. His crystalline eyes are hazy and blown out in lust, brows drawn together and expression twisted in pleasure, his breath coming in pants. He is visibly barely holding it together, completely drunk on the taste and feel of you– and it simultaneously is the hottest and sweetest thing you’ve ever seen. “Yes, fuck, squeeze me just like that.”

You oblige, relishing in the full-body shiver that tears through him in response. He bites your name out amidst a tortured groan, hands shifting to your hips. His mouth returns to clean up the mess he left on your breast, lips latching around your nipple to suck and pull once more, and it’s almost enough to distract you from the way he suddenly begins to lift you by the hips and drop you back down on his cock in time with his thrusts. Almost. You have to bite back a scream at how fucking good it feels, the pressure and pace and just how full you feel. You can feel yourself rapidly beginning to come undone.

With the combination of his venom’s aphrodisiac effects and the sheer amount of time you’ve spent longing for this, you don’t imagine you’re going to last much longer. If the unforgiving pace of Satoru’s hips is anything to go by, you estimate the same to be the case for him.

He groans into your chest, releasing your breast to bounce in time with his thrusts, the action accompanied by an almost audible pop, and shifts his hold to free a hand. The pressure of two fingers against your clit has you crying out, body jerking at the sudden rush of pleasure – your head whips down to find him already looking at you, gaze swinging from the juncture of your thighs to your eyes. Evidently pleased by the expression he finds on your face, he continues his circling of your clit and leans his head down to trail kisses from your already-healing chest, up the column of your throat, across the line of your jaw, until he finally arrives at your lips.

“Mine,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours in a feather-light caress. His baby-blue eyes are lidded heavily and almost dazed, coherent thought lost to the throes of pleasure and his most simple instincts. He nicks your lip at the same time as he angles a particularly wonderful thrust, the head of his cock hitting against that spot that makes you see stars and release a loud, wanton cry. “You’re all mine.”

You pull back to nod rapidly, unable to form words when all you can think – all you can feel – is the throbbing pleasure of his cock splitting you open with each heavy thrust. His head follows, lips seeking your own once more. The kiss is hot, and needy, and his oversized canines scrape your bottom lip more than once, and yet all you can do is return the fervour in between moans and whines. His hand is still at work between your legs, and you feel in your bones that you’re really not going to last much longer at this rate.

Satoru releases your mouth with a final nip, and moves his head to nestle it in the juncture of your neck and shoulder. He groans, low and long, and the vibration turns to a shiver as it travels over your skin. His lips begin to move.

“Say it.”

You struggle to think let alone figure out what he wants, lost in the current of your rapidly approaching orgasm. His fingers pick up speed, aided by the generous amount of arousal still gushing from your pussy in between thrusts. It takes everything you have not to scream, your hips bucking.

“Say it,” he says again, an oddly uncertain note infiltrating his rumbling gasp. He utters your name while nosing at your throat and you feel yourself melt. “Please, say it.”

Realisation as to what he is looking for hits you at the same time as your orgasm. “Fuck! I’m– I’m yours, all yours! God, fuck—“

Satoru’s pace stutters, undone by your pussy clenching and throbbing around him in a fight to keep him inside, and it takes him a moment to recover before he begins to fuck into you again in earnest, movements growing sloppy and frantic but no less punishing. It all serves to prolong the wave of absolute bliss you’re riding in the wake of what has to be the strongest orgasm of your life. Those vampiric toxins are no joke.

You wind your arms around his neck, clutching him close and trying not to lose your mind as he fucks up into you, the drag of his cock against your walls somehow even more delicious than before. He mouths at your neck, hips beginning to stutter once more. You clench around him, and he breaks. There is barely enough time for a curse to escape his mouth before its clamping on your neck, teeth digging in deep— deeper than he’s ever bitten you before— and tingling heat spreading out from the puncture sites. He gives one, two, three final, dragging thrusts, body trembling and muscles taut, before his cock throbs and he buries it inside you, spilling into you with a deep, rumbling groan against your throat.

Soft, panting moans escape you as his hips continue to roll into you softly, riding out his orgasm, and you bite back a wanton groan as you feel his cum beginning to trickle out around his softening member. As soon as he comes back to his senses to a degree, he has the presence of mind to navigate the two of you to the bed before he loses strength in his legs, his mouth slipping from your neck after he laves his tongue over the wound to seal it. Unceremoniously, he drops the two of you against the mattress, but surprisingly keeps you snugly in his hold and his length still buried inside you. Ignoring how hot that is, you decide to view the action from a purely romantic light and nearly melt into the mattress.

Vaguely, you register the thumping club beats still booming beyond the confines of the room. Evidently the party was still ongoing.

“This wasn’t how I planned for today to go,” he admits, after a few beats of contented silence. He nuzzles his face to your chest, dragging his nose across your collarbone. “I was going to talk to you tomorrow morning.”

You snort; that’s likely.

“… This is how I planned for today to go, though.”

He huffs a laugh before pressing his lips together, clearly trying not to enable you further. He allows for another few moments to pass, and in that time you let your own eyes flutter closed.

“You can’t change your mind, by the way,” he says suddenly, tone odd. You open your eyes and turn to see his crystalline gaze directed to your neck, where the latest of his bite marks sits proudly. “I may have done one of those things I can’t take back.”

You’re not sure how to tell him it’s not as bad of a thing as he thinks it to be.

likes and reblogs are appreciated <3 lmk what you think!

#gojo x reader smut #gojo x reader #jjk smut #gojo smut #satoru smut #vampire au #vampire gojo satoru #smut #my work #jjk writings #jjk #jealous gojo satoru #posessive gojo satoru #i'll probs proofread later #probably #oneshot #he's a bit feral in this one but we love that for him #satoru x reader #satoru x reader smut

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auroreliis · 4 months ago

Note

OMGGG!! Imagine platonic yandere batfam and reader on a vacation at the beach on a privat Island. Would you like to do headcanons/or a scenario (you can decide) of it. Hope you have a good day/night!!

Aaaaa anon <333 We had the same idea <3333 Thank you so much!!!

Perhaps a little late for summer, but inspiration only struck me now!!! <33

Also, I wrote this on like 4 energy drinks so forgive any spelling errors

Also it's not edited or anything...

If reception is positive on this one, I might make a part 2 with the other characters, so let me know if you'd be interested in that :)

Platonic Yandere!Batfamily

Summary: The Batfamily takes you to their private island for summer vacation.

It was just you. Just you and the gently lapping of the waves against the shore. Finally, some alone time. You had to make the most of it, since you were convinced that it wouldn’t last long.

It was about 8 o’clock in the morning. Bruce, Damian and Stephanie had left the island for whatever reason. Dick was either at home or at main beach, looking for you. You had come here about half an hour ago, surely they would’ve noticed your absence and the fact that you had left your phone at home. They were going to chip you eventually, you had come to accept that. However, you certainly enjoyed the time you had away from them whenever they couldn’t find you.

Jason was probably inside the villa. He wasn’t particularly fond of the heat outside. Either that or he’d gone swimming to cool off. Cassandra could’ve been looking for you. Maybe she had already found you.

Instinctively, you looked around. No one was in sight. Then again, she probably wouldn’t let herself be seen anyway.

The shore surrounding the island was wider at the main beach. Here, it was only a few feet wide. Behind you laid a sparse palm forest. Cassandra could certainly hide there. Whatever. You wouldn’t find her anyway. Besides, she would have probably come to talk to you. Probably.

Where would Duke and Tim be? At the villa, right? Where else would they be? Hopefully not looking for you.

Now that you had considered it, you were probably being observed by someone. And if you weren’t, then soon, you would be.

Whatever, just take your mind off it. Think of something else, like…the beautiful beach you’re at. Yes, it is much nicer to think about the gentle breeze. How wonderful. Just you, the beach and the ocean.

You hadn’t ever been at a private beach, so this was a unique experience. All of this belonged to you. Well it actually belonged to your new family, but still, it almost belonged to you.

Your soul nearly left your body at the sound of rustling coming from behind you.

“Hi”, Tim waved nervously after you had spotted him sneaking up on you.

You didn’t feel like answering, so you just turned back to the ocean. Wanting to engage with you somehow, Tim sat down on the sand next to you.

“So…what are you doing here?”, he kept looking at you, but you tried very hard to ignore his gaze.

“Just sitting.”

“Well, I can tell that, but why here? Why not on the main beach? Dick and Jason are scrambling to find you there.”

You had thought that was the case.

“I wanted to be alone.”, you emphasized every word.

He chuckles nervously. That was it. He didn’t say anything. That told you everything you needed to know: He was only here to annoy you.

“How did you even find me?”, you turned to him, your voice tinged with frustration.

“Find you? Oh, I wasn’t looking for you, I just wanted to go somewhere alone. You know, somewhere peaceful”, he turned to the ocean, as though in deep thought,”I get it, you know. You also want to be alone sometimes.”

If he “gets it”, then why is he always right behind you?

“I think you and I have a lot more in common than you think”, he said, crossing his arms on his propped up knees and turning to you.

The audacity to say something like that made you shudder.

“I think you’re full of shit”, you wouldn’t let him think that he’s getting closer to you. You could never like someone like him.

He tried to hide his frown, but you saw right through him,”That’s pretty mean, you know. I’m just trying to connect with you.”

He didn’t say it directly, but you knew his words were a warning. Bruce had talked to you about this. You were allowed to have your opinions about them, but being overly rude was a violation of the rules—rules, which he made up. In other words, if Tim thought you were being mean, then you were being mean. Against this, there would be no arguing.

Well, you know what they say: If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.

“Ahem, I’m trying to connect with you…”, Tim persisted. You merely pursed your lips and nodded.

Noticing the awkward silence, he spoke again, ”So, will you go swimming?”

You shook your head.

He nodded, “Yes, it isn’t that hot yet, so there’s no need to cool off, I suppose.”

“Well”, he turned to you with a smile, his determination unwavering, “What would you like for breakfast? Alfred already started preparing something. Let’s head back and let him know what you want before he finishes.” But wouldn’t Alfred already know your preference? Perhaps this was Tim’s idea of “bonding”…

Still, his offer seemed tempting, since you hadn’t eaten yet. However, you weren’t jumping at the idea of going back only to place your order with Alfred and then get dragged off to go swimming by either Jason or Dick. Or worse, Tim.

Only now that you felt the hopelessness more intensely, did you begin to question things. Why did Tim always find you first. And how? They didn’t secretly chip you, did they?

…Did they?

Asking them wouldn’t result in an honest answer, so you didn’t really see a point in it. But how else would you figure it out?

You supposed the best person to ask was Bruce—AKA. Dad. He was likely the only person who would answer truthfully…as long as you behaved properly, that is.

“Is dad home yet?”, you turned to Tim, ignoring his previous rambling.

“Oh uh, I’m not sure. Shall we go check together?”, Tim scrambled to use every opportunity he was given, despite being caught off guard.

Perhaps it won’t get any better than this: Mediocre at best.

“Fine, let’s go.”

From the corner of your eye, after Tim grabbed your hand, you saw his smile widen remarkably.

The walk was long and awkward. Your older brother was desperately trying to talk about something, anything, that would catch your interest. Meanwhile, you were silent for the most part.

You had to admit, the villa was quite nice (if only it came without the addition of desperate, touch starved reprobates). Despite having your own room, you were forced to share a room—and often even a bed—with someone, unless you gained Bruce’s special favour for the day.

Luckily, Damian, the person you had to share the room with last night, had left very early in the morning. You weren’t sure how long ago, though, since the letter he’d written to inform you of his absence was…detailed, to say the least. Surely it would’ve taken him more than an hour to even come up with it, let alone write it. What a waster of paper. He didn’t have to say anything at all…

Entering the cool living room made you relax enough to finally engage with Tim, “Um…are Jay and Dick home, or…?”

In respone, he laughed, “Oh, no. I didn’t tell them that you’re with me. They’re probably still looking for you at the main beach. Dick went on about how we shouldn’t let you go anywhere alone in case you drowned or something like that.”

“Wait, what? But I know how to swim! Please tell Bruce that Dick’s rule is unnecessary…I already have enough restrictions, don’t I?” You panicked.

“Well…” He grinned, “That depends on what you’ll do for me in exchange.”

Even sighing was tiring for you at this point, “Fine, I’ll sleep in your room tonight.”

“Until the end of the week, or no deal.”

Holding back a groan, you responded, “Fine, whatever, just…work your magic, okay?” He nodded eagerly.

“Greeting, Masters. Breakfast is almost prepared”, Alfred appeared from the kitchen.

“Hi. Alfred, did you make-”

“Your favourite? Of course I did”, Alfred interrupted.

“…Right.” You should’ve known, to be fair, “Well, when will it be done?”

“When Master Bruce and Master Damian return”

“What about Steph? Isn’t she returning?” If she didn’t return at all, your life would improve considerably.

“Oh, Steph? She wanted to stay in the city for a bit, probably to buy you gifts or something”, Tim responds in Alfred’s stead.

“Gifts…? You don’t think she’ll, you know, make me play dress-up again, right?”, the thought sent a shiver down your spine. In this heat? There was no way you’d wear layers upon layers of clothes just because she was bored. You immediately left the living room, leaving Tim and Alfred behind.

While waiting for everyone to return to eat breakfast, you went and hid somewhere in the villa to avoid social interractions. And hopefully the heat. It was very hot.

#please forgive spelling errors #i just love school :') you have sooo much free time!! yayyyy (sarcasm)#well thats it for now folks #cya next summer (im kidding...i think)#dc comics #batfam #platonic yandere #x reader #platonic batfam #yandere batfam #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #yandere x reader #yandere jason todd #yandere dick grayson #batfamily

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sexlapis · 4 months ago

Text

࿔ read me to sleep…

ᰋ nanami kento x gn!reader

ns4w, fluff, dirty talk no sex, very suggestive, finger sucking, petnames: baby, sweet thing, darling. soft nanami, nanami babies reader, nanami reading to reader, talks about cocks and holes 🤷‍♀️, d/s dynamics

. synopsis: after a long week, nanami helps you to relax.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc: 1.1k

a/n: me writing a fanfic? who would’ve thought?? extract is from ‘the professor’ by charlotte brontê. i enjoyed it but apparently it’s not very well liked. anyway, here’s me being very normal about nanami.

masterlists

your cheek rests on the cool, ivory porcelain of the bathtub. warm water envelopes your body, coming all the way up to your chest which is petaled with tufts of scented bubbles. the orange gleam of the sunset casts a gentle, easy light over the bathroom, colouring the bath water and the supple skin of your body.

it’s quiet. the only sounds being emitted come from the soft ripples of the water when you move and your husband’s low, soft speaking. your eyes droop.

“are you even listening?”

nanami sits on a wooden chair right in front of the bathtub. on long days like this, most of the time on a friday, you both just need to wind down, relax, unravel the knots curled up in your bones, ease the ache inside your head and erase the never ending thoughts in your mind.

‘…yet been my experience of life, I had once had the opportunity of contemplating, near at hand, an example of the results produced by a course of interesting and romantic domestic treachery. No golden halo of fiction was about this example, I saw it bare and real, and it was very loathsome. I saw a mind degraded by the practice of mean subterfuge, by the habit of perfidious deception, and a body depraved by the infectious influence of the vice-polluted soul. I had suffered much from the forced and prolonged view of this spectacle; those sufferings I did not now regret, for their simple recollection acted as a most wholesome antidote to temptation. They had inscribed on my reason the conviction that unlawful pleasure, trenching on another's rights, is delusive and envenomed pleasure; its hollowness disappoints at the time, its poison cruelly tortures afterwards, its effects deprave forever.’

he wears his white, button up shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his suit jacket long gone, his tie loose and dangling down, and dark slacks sit on his legs very nicely. and, your favourite thing of all, he wears his reading glasses, the pair that he only wears around you.

“yeah, yeah ‘m listening. just tired.”

you have, in fact, not been listening that much.

if you weren’t slowly dozing off to sleep to the smooth timbre of his voice, you were blatantly admiring the cerulean veins that travelled up the pale expanse of his forearm. and if not that, you watched with half-lidded eyes how the tendons of his large hands moved when he turned a page, or the sight of the pink pillows of his lips in motion, or the prominence of his adam’s apple or-

“you really aren’t listening, are you?”

this time, you had the sense to feel a little embarrassed, feel some heat rise on your face. “uhhhhhhh…”

nanami tilts his head, definitely not looking at your chest, “what is going on in that little head of yours?”

“what-nothing! i just, i-,” you sigh, licking your lips, unabashedly staring at the bulge in his slacks “you just look sexy.”

he chuckles, his eyes crinkled and the sound rumbling through his chest. nanami moves his chair forward, closer to where you rest your head, and leans down slightly.

“i don’t think it’s just that,” he utters. nanami then raises his hand to your sweet, languorous face, coated with droplets of water, your wet eyelashes framing the tender yet desiring gaze of eyes. his heart beats a little faster.

he cups your cheeks with one big hand, trailing his index and middle finger to your plush lips, asking for an opening. you do so gladly, moaning quietly when his thick, rough fingers sit and press on your tongue, saliva seeping around his fingers. “i think my little darling just wants my cock inside of that sloppy little hole. isn’t that right?”

his brash words and his fingers, they are inching further and further towards your throat, make your face burn and a dull, throbbing pit of want curl up where you want him the most.

you blink drowsily, almost half asleep at this point, nibbling on his fingers in your mouth, giving them one long lick. “yessss…yes i want it inside of me so much.”

“oh, baby,” nanami coos, “i’m only teasing you. i know you’re tired…”

you whine. it’s muffled over his fingers, which you continue to suck on softly. his eyes darken.

“don’t tempt me,” nanami groans, briefly relishing in the feeling of your mouth suctioned over his fingers, “you know i can't resist that little mouth of yours...”

his fingers leave your sighing mouth, now glistening and wet, connected by a silky line of gossamer to your lips.

nanami hums, pleased by the debauched, satisfied expression plastered on your face. he swipes your lips with your own spit, making them gleam in the shine of the sunset. such actions make you picture his taut, large length, how uses it to generously rub his expense all over your lips and cheeks, using and painting your face like his secret, erotic canvas.

unfortunately for you, your fatigue outweighs your lustful cravings. you let your eyes fall shut. a hand finds itself on top of your head, caressing there softly. a purr leaves your throat. nanami wills himself to ignore his very obvious desire for at this moment.

“i think it’s someone’s bedtime.”

nanami pats his thighs and stands to get your towel. you pout at the loss of stimulation on your head, but it’s quickly wiped away when nanami unplugs the bath, helps you out of it with his hand in yours, and wraps the towel around your damp body like a cocoon.

you waddle over to you and nanami’s shared bedroom, collapsing onto the bed. you were going to sleep so well tonight.

“nanami.” you whisper to him as he takes off his watch. “nanami, come here. read the rest of the chapter, please.”

“darling, you’re about to fall asleep.”

“yeah but i want you to read me to sleep.”

nanami huffs, a small smile on his face. the bed dios where he sits down next to your head, and you take the chance to lay your head on his lap, snuggling comfortably. his hand finds your head to caress one again, making you chirp with glee.

“alright. just this one chapter and that’s it.”

you let him read to you.

at first you listen, you really do, but after a few minutes his words turn into white noise, the low-tone of his voice rumbles through you, the warmth of his lap acts as a pillow and the final blow is when he decides to draw circles over your temple with his thumb.

before you know it, you’re gradually drifting off to sleep, into a serene dreamland, forgetting about all the stress you experienced today.

nanami closes the book and carefully manoeuvres you from his lap and onto the bed properly. he knows you’ll probably wake up shortly, considering you’re still just in your towel, but for now, he savours this moments and how endearing you look, curled up and snoring in your fluffy towel.

“sweet thing…” he kisses your forehead, resting his lips there fore a moment, “my sweet, little thing…”

…♡

#for the ppl with ***** ****** i got you 🙌#nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami x self insert #nanami x gn!reader #nanami x gender neutral!reader #nanami smut #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento smut #nanami kento fluff #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x y/n #kento nanami fluff #kento nanami smut

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dyaz-stories · 1 year ago

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an indentation in the shape of you || Cha Hyun-Su x f!Reader

summary: Hyun-Su wants to learn how to make you feel good. The two of you experiment some more.

word count: 2.8k

warnings & tags: fluff, smut, reader is afab, explicit consent, pwp, porn with feelings, fingering, dry-humping i guess?, they're both virgins and pretty awkward but they're getting better at this, all very vanilla.

first one-shot · previous one-shot

This one-shot can be read independently as there is nothing intense plot-wise that requires having read the other parts, but I do recommend reading them for context.

A/N: this is my first hyun-su one-shot without angst lol (...don't get too used to it). anyway, this is more smut, and i think it's more intense than the previous one. hyun-su is more confident in this one, and he takes charge a little more (but in other ways he's pretty subby, so do with that what you want). hope you enjoy!

There is something about watching Hyun-Su moving around in your house that warms your heart in a way you can’t quite explain. He’s seemed more confident there lately, no longer tiptoeing or stiffening around you like you could kick him out any second. It reminds you of days forever gone, when your mom used to sit at the table while doing her crosswords and your dad put music on the second he walked in through the door.

It reminds you of when this house was a home.

Right now, Hyun-Su’s fixing up a spear he’s brought here with some of your dad’s tools. It’s not his, you know that much. ‘Yi-Kyeong asked me to take care of it’, he’d said when he had set to fix it. There was something to his tone that had stopped you from asking for more, even if you think he’d have told you. He’d said her name respectfully, but with deep sadness, and you had known that there was a lot more to this story. You’d get there some day, you were sure, but not tonight.

Hyun-Su glances up at you, and you almost whip your head away to pretend you weren’t looking at him, like you’re a highschooler with a crush. Instead, you don’t even try to make it look like the long forgotten book in your lap is of any interest to you, and you give him a smile.

He stills his movements.

“Is something wrong?”

His voice is calm and deep. He sure has come a long way.

“Just like looking at you,” you answer, because it’s true, and even with all that progress, you’re not surprised when Hyun-Su looks away from you, cheeks turning red.

When he gets the courage to look back at you, though, a bashful smile illuminates his features, and you don’t think that would have happened even as recently as a few weeks ago.

“You do?”

There’s just something in the air. Something fresh and sweet and new, something that makes you bite your lower lip while you nod, suppressing the giggle that’s forming in the back of your throat. Hyun-Su’s eyes on you feel intense, and you’re not used to getting that kind of look from him. After a few seconds of that, he abandons the spear behind him to stand up and walk towards you, eyes not leaving yours for a second.

A long, intense shiver runs down your back. Under his hoodie, you can see the muscles of his shoulders moving as he walks, and fleetingly, you wonder if you’d have had a chance with him, in a world without the Apocalypse, but even that is quickly swallowed by the fact that you have him now.

He puts a hand on the back of the couch as he leans close to you to kiss you, the other coming to rest on your waist and oh, if he keeps doing things like that, you think you’ll just turn into a puddle. Your heart is fluttering, and when his hand sneaks under your t-shirt, long, cold fingers carefully caressing your skin, you think it just might fly out of your chest.

His lips move slowly against yours, and you tilt your head back as he towers over you. You feel like you’re going into overdrive from how sensual he’s being, how his tongue dances with yours as the soft sounds of the kiss fill the room. It’s not long before he’s gently pushing you onto your back on the couch, and he goes down with you, putting one knee between your legs to support himself.

And it’s all just so much. Hyun-Su’s lips, his taste on your tongue, his warm body half-covering yours, his fingers running over your ribs, and, fuck, now his knee just almost, almost pressing right where you need him to.

But this feels nice, too, and you’re not trying to initiate anything sexual just yet, so you do your best to be patient. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, and find some satisfaction in the way Hyun-Su loses his rhythm at that. Knowing that you still have that kind of effect on him, even as you’re unraveling completely under his touch, makes you just a little more confident in what you’re doing.

It isn’t long before Hyun-Su’s gotten his bearings back though, and then he kisses you with renewed passion. The kiss turns less controlled, mouth crashing against yours harder, his hand tightens on your waist— before he pulls away, panting.

“Sorry,” he says before he can catch himself, cheeks flushed.

“I didn’t mind,” you answer, but your voice is squeakier than you had intended.

“I didn’t mean to— I wanted to ask you something.”

His black eyes are wide, and as much as the blue eyes are like an electric shock running through you, you love them so much. You love how you drown in them, you love how kind they are, love that they are, truly, a window to his soul.

“What is it?” you whisper, not trusting your voice anymore.

“Just— What we did. Last time.”

No need to be a rocket scientist to figure that one out, so, even if you feel blood rushing to your face, you nod.

“I wanted to, uh, return the favor. If you don’t mind.”

It’s your eyes’ turn to widen, and you push yourself onto your elbows to better read his expression. The skin of your face tingles with how burning hot it is.

“I mean I— Sure but you don’t— You don’t have to do anything—”

“I know,” he says, shaking his head. His voice is soft. “But I want to.”

You swallow, but you lay back down. You’re more nervous in this situation than you would have expected, feel vulnerable, exposed, even if you’re all clothed for now. But you trust Hyun-Su, you do, with all of your heart, and you cannot imagine a better person to have this experience with. So, slowly, you nod.

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure,” you whisper.

“Then can I…?”

He pulls on your shirt, but without putting any force into it. His eyes are on you, waiting for your approval — or whatever you decide to answer with.

You swallow.

“Um, yes, but could you— could you also…?”

He understands your meaning without you having finished, and acts on it faster than you would have expected, almost immediately pulling his own hoodie over his head and letting it fall to the floor. You’d noticed before that, for all his shyness over other things, he doesn’t seem to care about nudity all that much, but you’re not sure what to do with it.

For now, you can at least admire the work of art that is his body, his well-defined muscles and hard pectorals, and since he’s out in the open now, you give him a nod.

“Go ahead.”

He takes off your shirt like you’re made of porcelain, pulling it slowly and softly over your head, and taking his time so it doesn’t get caught in your hair. It is such a sweet sight, how focused he gets on the task, on making sure he’s doing right, so that he doesn’t hurt you in any way. It’s only once he’s done that his gaze lands on your body. He stills, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and you can’t help but stiffen.

It might be silly, at this point in your relationship — and when the world has literally ended outside your window — but you’re feeling self-conscious. You want to fold your arms in front of your breasts, hide your stomach and any imperfection.

“You’re beautiful,” Hyun-Su says, so obviously in awe, and the weight on your stomach is replaced by sweet, sweet butterflies. “Is it— is it okay to—”

“Touch me,” you ask instead of letting him stutter through the rest of his sentence, and he almost gasps at that, pants suddenly feeling a lot tighter.

“You shouldn’t say things like that to me,” he mumbles, bright red once again, stealing a kiss from you when you open your mouth to tease.

Then he’s kissing down your neck, and you can tell that he’s mimicking the things you did to him the last time something like this happened between the two of you. You barely have time to find that sweet, though, because soon the only thing on your mind are the open-mouthed kisses he’s pressing against your skin, and how they make you so desperate to buck your hips against he’s oh so well placed thigh.

He doesn’t linger on your neck, though, soon moving down to your chest, sneaking a hand behind your back to try and unclasp your bra — something he ends up struggling you with so much that you’re the one that eventually reaches back to get it done. He’ll have all the time to learn that kind of things later. For now, there’s something on your mind, and you don’t want to have to wait any longer.

You let him slide it down your arms, then discard it, letting it fall with the rest of your clothes.

“Can I…?”

“You still don’t have to ask.”

He hesitates for a second, before going back down to press a shy kiss under your collarbone, right where your breast starts to form. He keeps kissing his way down, hands for now cautiously staying away. Finally, he reaches your nipple, and you cannot hold back a distinct gasp when he carefully wraps his mouth around it. It turns into a full moan when he flicks his tongue against it — and you could swear you feel his mouth stretching into a grin right after that.

It’s then that he cups your other breast with his hand, and you shiver. His body may be radiating heat, but his hands are cold. They don’t stay that way for long though, not with how hot you’re running right now yourself. He starts off shy over there too, at first massaging your breast gently, before his fingers dare brush against that nipple. It’s hard already, and with his mouth on the other side, all you can do is arch into his touch, moans still falling freely from your lips.

Pleasure’s running wild in your body, each and every sensation going straight down to your core, more so when his fingers experimentally pull on your nipple. You’re dripping wet already, desperate for relief, and it’s not long before you can no longer hold yourself back and buck your hips up against his leg.

He lets go of you almost immediately, glancing down at your lower body as if he doesn’t understand what’s happening. When he looks back at you, his eyes are impossibly wide, his pupils dilated.

“Did you— Did you just—”

“Hyun-Su,” you call out in a sigh, running your fingers over the nape of his neck. “Touch me.”

For a second, his whole body tenses and he just stares at you. Then he exhales.

“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath. “Fuck. Um. Then I’ll— I’ll just—” He starts fiddling with the button of your jeans, and just the anticipation of his touch where you need it the most sends pleasure rushing through you once more. This time, he manages to get them off of you without your help, and there’s another slow exhale. “You’re so— You’re so—”

Wet is the word you think he’s searching for, and he’s not wrong about that. The urge to reach down between your leg to take care of the ache you’re feeling is strong, but the desire to feel him down there is all-consuming, and so you wait for him, your breathing loud and ragged.

“Tell me, okay? Tell me what feels good to you.”

He doesn’t take off your panties, probably because he hasn’t gotten your jeans fully off, and instead just pushes them to the side. He’s cautious here too, at first barely brushing against the lips, which still makes the muscles of your thighs tense. It feels like you’ve been waiting for it for centuries when he finally inserts a long finger inside you, sliding in so easily from how dripping wet you are. Your hold on his shoulders tighten, fingers digging into his skin, and even with your lips pressed tightly together, your moan reverberates through your body.

“Good?” Hyun-Su asks, and his low voice in your ears does absolute wonders to you right now.

“You can add another one,” you say, except it’s probably more of a whine, but you can’t tell for sure, not with how much your head is buzzing right now.

Hyun-Su obeys almost immediately, and you bury your head in his neck to muffle the groan that follows. You feel so good, so full, and he hasn’t even moved yet. You let yourself adjust, before giving him more instructions.

“You can— You can spread them open and— ah!— m-move them in and— Ah!”

Hyun-Su follows your advice diligently, and soon you no longer even have the strength to hold on to him, falling down onto your back with your whole body arching into his touch, following after him if he pulls out. It’s so, so fucking good, nothing you’ve ever done on your own can compare to this and you don’t know how you’ll be able to go back after that.

You’re gasping and writhing underneath him for you don’t know how long, and you’re so, so close to the edge, but you need— You just need something more, so you push yourself back up on your elbows, something harder than you’d think, when your muscles feel like jelly, and that’s when you realize that his hips are bucking against your leg. You hadn’t paid any attention to it, but now you see how obviously hard he is, and the small, almost shy movements of his hips as he ruts against you.

“Hyun-Su,” you call — you’re no longer paying attention to how your voice is coming out —, “here—”

You grab his wrist, and even if it means he pulls his hand out, something that immediately has your walls clenching around nothing at the loss, guide him so his fingers brush against your clit.

“There,” you whisper. “You can keep, uh, keep your fingers inside and— and touch me there, too.”

He nods, pushes the fingers back inside. There are a few seconds as he figures out how to best put his hand, and then when he strokes your clit with his thumb, you almost immediately lose it. You only have the presence of mind to lift your leg up, just a little, so it presses against his hard cock.

It’s his turn to freeze and to let out a moan then, one obviously surprised out of him.

“You should feel good too,” you manage to mumble through the haze of pleasure.

“But I— I want to make you feel—”

“We can both feel good,” you answer, and Hyun-Su just cannot resist kissing you again. It’s messy, tongues clashing together without much control, but fuck, he cannot explain or control the way he feels about you.

You come just a few moments later, waves of pleasure crashing through you all at once as his thumb circles your clit, fingers deep inside you, moving at a tranquil pace that lets you feel all of his movements inside you.

When you open your eyes again, he’s above you, staring at you lovingly.

“Good?” he asks.

Better than that.

“That was incredible,” you tell him though even that feels like an understatement. You love the way he obviously preens under your compliment. “But— But what about you? Didn’t you—”

You reach out, but he grabs your wrist before you can touch him.

“I, um, I’ve already—”

He’s turning bright red again, but you understand without another word. His jeans are still on, and you haven’t even actually touched him, and yet he still came in his pants, against your thigh, while fingering you.

Blood rushes to your face so fast you feel light-headed.

“Oh,” is all you can truly think to say. Then, shyly, “Want to go get cleaned up?”

“Together?” His voice is soft, questioning, but his eyes are in yours, comfortable instead of avoiding. You nod.

Later, you’re still in his arms, your back pressed against his chest, his face buried in your neck. And you, too, are comfortable.

There’s just something in the air, something fresh and sweet and familiar, and you think something you haven’t let yourself explore all that much, even if you’ve known, deep down, for a long time.

It just might be love.

and here we are! this one felt a lot smuttier to me than the previous part, but it was fun to write about this relationship in a less angsty way, too. maybe i should let them be happy a little more lol. anyway, i hope you liked it! next part probably won't be smut, but i don't know when it will be out. i have a new, time consuming internship that doesn't give me a lot of free time, so i don't know how much/when i'll have time to write. but i definitely have more stuff i want to write for this couple! so don't hesitate to comment and/or reblog to give me the motivation to write after work lol, and i'll also be answering my asks when i have time!

1K notes · View notes

tiredmamaissy · 6 months ago

Text

Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Special Episode VI

Labor of Love - Part III

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's insanely talented creator @zestys-stuff. Thank you so much for allowing me to play around with your characters!

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (25) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (20) featuring Metkayina!Zu’té (29)

Warnings: zero smut, explicit childbirth, water birth, difficult labour, contractions, amniotic fluid, breastfeeding, family fluff, expletives, this is a bit angsty but there’s a happy ending

Word Count: 7.3k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: the following depicts a very detailed, difficult, and medically inaccurate birth. This is graphic. I am quite literally going to simulate a birthing experience in your pov and I strongly suggest opting out now if anything pregnancy or birth related could make you uncomfortable. Finally, this is most definitely not medical advice, nor should this be used as a reference for what to expect during birth. This is a fanfiction about blue aliens, after all. With that being said, let’s welcome Ralak into fatherhood!! Enjoy 😊

Synopsis: Things were moving too fast until they weren't moving fast enough. The time has come and you're starting to doubt your capabilities. But thankfully your mate is here to guide you through this.

<- Previous

“Okay, Toto. Just do it. Go in there.” Zu’té sounds breathless as he speaks to himself, turning around to face the door. He hears your whimper and his jaw tightens. “Shit. Okay. Right.” Just as he raises his hand to pull back the curtain, he hears a winded voice. “Brother.”

Zu’té spins around to face the voice of an angel—Ralak.

“Oh, thank Eywa. Thank you great mother. Thank you.” Zu’té chants in relief despites being one of the least spiritual persons someone can meet. He knew deep down that Eywa answered his call.

Zu’té makes eye contact with the dishevelled and worn out giant. His attention is immediately drawn to the lengthy gash on his shoulder that seems to have been stitched up in a haste.

“Ay’ana.” Ralak growls when he sees him staring.

The colour drains from Zu’té ‘s face, but before he can respond, Ralak’s ears perk up when they hear what seems to be a low whimpering. It sounds as if you're straining and struggling to breathe. His eyes dart behind Zu’té and then quickly snap back to his brother, filled with panic.

Zu’té just barely shakes his head, urging himself to focus on the most important thing right now.

“Your mate is in labour, tak.”

Ralak’s eyes widen at the confirmation. He knew it. He felt it back inland.

Without another passing second, Ralak pushes past Zu’té and enters his marui. You hear the faint flap of the door and try to shift yourself in order to keep some level of decency.

“I said to leave.” You’re breathless, gripping relentlessly onto the wooden stilt.

Ralak’s frozen in place, taking in the sight of you labouring by yourself. One that no matter how painful, is a sight he has always longed to see. A sense of pride fills his chest, his mate is showing such great strength that it’s admirable. Bringing life to his child is something he will eternally be grateful for.

But then he sees your fingernails. How they've gone dull from all your gripping and scraping, and his sense of pride quickly mixes with shame. Shame that he has left you alone in this.

Your laboured breathing is audible, practically wheezing as you struggle to breathe through the last lap of this contraction. You keep holding your breath and it’s more than evident from the red tinge in your face. Breathing is no longer the thing that you’re most focused on anymore, it’s the pressure between your legs.

He doesn't want to startle you but he can’t just watch you suffer any longer. He approaches you cautiously, examining you in attempts to discern how far into your labour you are.

You're glazed in a layer of sweat, glimmering in the faint light of the first sliver of sun. Your shoulders rise and fall rapidly as you pant faster than a viperwolf pup, and your belly is low and firm as it tightens from the contraction.

Ears laid flat to your skull and brows tightened, you curl over and clutch your stomach. He releases his clenched jaw and lessens the distance between the two of you. He gently places his hands on your lower back, pressing into you with the ball of his palm.

The warmth alone provides a bit of relief for you, allowing you to momentarily catch your breath.

“Zu’té.” You hiss under your breath, surprised he’s even come in, much less laid a hand on you.

You let go of the marui stilt to swat away his hand with a loud smack. The reminder of you labouring in the presence of another man that isn’t him makes him wince.

“Muntxate [wife].” Ralak husks quietly, using his thumbs to rub circles into your back. Your ears lift from your skull and perk up when you realise it’s your mate, back home from the excursion.

Tears overflow and spill down your cheeks. Tears of pain. Tears of exhaustion. Tears of relief.

“Ralak.” You let out a nasally sob, unable to look at him just yet due to the contraction still rippling through you. You speak between your moans, voice cracking.

“You’re back. You’re here. It’s happening, lak. He’s coming. And I—I thought you’d miss it. I thought you weren’t coming back. I thought… I thought—”

“Alright, alright. I am right here with you, tanhì. Mawey, mawey [calm, calm].” He hums steadily, already reaching behind him for his kuru. “How long have you been in labour?”

“D-Don’t know.” Your breath catches in your throat and your knees begin to tremble. “Too l-long.”

Ralak’s heart throbs in his chest at the thought of you enduring this on your own for that long. The contraction is finally subsiding, and you're eager to find relief in your mate. You exhale shakily and grip his wrist as you try to straighten your spine.

“Easy.” Ralak is quick to help you to your feet, holding you by your hip and arm. “Can you stand?”

You nod your head as you slump back into him regardless. “It’s happening, ‘lak.” You wheeze, resting your head on his chest. Despite the slight sting, Ralak smiles, joyful to know his son will soon be born.

“It is, my tanhì.” Ralak hums, swaying side to side with you against his body as he brings his glowing tendrils towards the end of your braid. He’s spent but he knows the exhaustion he feels is nothing in comparison to yours. “I am so sorry I have left you alone in this.”

“‘ts not your fault, my love.” You murmur, lulling your head against his chest. “...not your fault.”

Though your contraction has passed, the pressure in your pelvis has a steady, constant groan vibrating in your throat. It’s a feeling that won’t let up, and the further you progress the more intense it gets. It feels like your body’s at its limit, unable to accommodate your babe any longer.

“Mmmn—tsaheylu, please.” Your plea is drawn out and low, unaware that he’s already one step ahead of you.

When he makes the bond, the pressure is instantly lightened but is quickly replaced with a sharp pain in your shoulder and back. He sucks in a sharp breath and grimaces from the sudden pain and pressure that flows into him.

You gasp and clutch your left shoulder, whipping your head around to look behind you. Immediately, you catch sight of his wound.

Fresh blood spurts out between the ragged stitches and globbed over herbal concoction, dribbling down his chest and back in thin streams.

“Shit.” You curse, ripping your queue away from him, abruptly severing the bond—causing the pressure to come back tenfold. “Fuck—you’re injured.”

“I am fine.” Ralak insists, reaching for your kuru again.

“Tsaheylu will infect it.” You insist, keeping your kuru away from him.

“Ke tare [it doesn’t matter].” He says sharply, catching his tone and softening it. “Allow me, please.”

Ralak reaches for your kuru again, eager to make it up to you—to take the pain for whatever time you have left. But you shake your head firmly.

The fact that making tsaheylu caused it to rupture and bleed, a gash that size will surely worsen with the influence of your labour. Ralak respects your wish, although he’s in disagreement with it. He’d never make the bond without your consent and he feels as if he’s already missed too much of your labour to continue the argument.

“…what happened?” You ask shakily, terrified to know the answer. “Wh-What did they do to you?” You feel yourself begin to tear up.

Seeing him so hurt always made your heart heavy.

Your question catches him off guard, bringing him back to the moment he saw his own karyu. He swallows, having trouble keeping his calm and figuring out what to say. He has no intention of keeping it from you, but truthfully it isn’t the right time to speak of such matters. Not when you’re nearing the peak of the birth of your firstborn.

“Not now. You are labouring.” Ralak says sternly yet gently, reshifting his focus and concern back to you.

And if it weren’t for the unbearable heavy sensation in between your legs you would’ve protested. You nod lazily as your breath hitches repeatedly, your hand finding its way to the lowest part of your abdomen to press into it. Your lengthy groans start up again, you can feel your entire body begin to tense up.

“Another? So soon?” Ralak’s voice falters, concern now evident in his tone. He steadies himself behind you, pressing his hands into your lower back once more.

“Pressure. ‘ts too much.” You pant, leaning forward and using your free hand on the marui stilt for support.

“Pressure?” Ralak tries his best to understand what you mean. Thinking that he’s pressing too hard into your back, he eases up and apologises. You shake your head and quickly replace your hand onto the lowest part of your abdomen with his.

“Pressure!” You yelp the word like a plea for help, hoping he’ll get it without you needing to explain. Talking is becoming more difficult with each passing contraction. When he does finally understand, his eyes widen and brow bones jump.

“Ah—he is moving down, tanhì.” Ralak tries to speak calmly, sliding his other hand over your stomach. His fingers smooth over your skin, taking in its heat and supple texture. He then feels it tighten even more, contracting right under the pads of his digits.

“Tewti [whoa].”

It’s the first he’s ever felt a contraction, despite being a mandated witness to numerous first breath rituals in the clan. He begins counting under his breath, trying to gauge your progression by determining how long they’re lasting. But before he can get into the double digits your low grumble turns into a high pitched cry.

Ralaks ears immediately go flat, hearing a cry like that rip from your throat makes his heart tighten in his chest. He shuffles closer to you upon realising that you're curling over from the pain. Moving quickly, he supports your body weight with one hand to your belly and another over your chest.

“Ralak!” You cry out, “Please! Do something!”

With that, Ralak’s hands slip back down to your lower abdomen, cupping your belly and gently pull upward. This always helped if the baby was sitting too low, relieving some of the heaviness and pressure on your bladder.

Instantaneously, the pressure relieves. Your cry dissipates into a loud sigh, your downturned lips flipping up into a small smile of relief.

“Thank you—” Pop. “—ugh” Gush.

You’re silent, but your face screws into a grimace as the pain rushes back in with a vengeance. You look down in a painful daze, feeling the trickle of liquid down your thighs and legs. Through blurred vision, you watch as a pool forms at your feet, as well as Ralaks.

“Shit.” Ralak mutters under his breath, recognizing what’s just happened.

His head whips around to the sound of the flap of the marui door. He looks behind him, met with the panicked, bulging eyes of Zu’té, who’s staring intently at the scene unfolding before him. He's just worked up enough courage to enter the room.

Zu’té finally makes eye contact with Ralak, and Ralak nudges his chin in the direction of the village, mouthing—‘Get a healer’. Zu’té nods and takes off at full tilt.

“…fuck‘m sorry. My waters...” You mumble, fingers digging into his arms in attempts to keep you standing, to no avail.

Your knees buckle beneath you, and you lose all ability to keep yourself on your feet. Ralak supports you, moving down with you rather than trying to keep you standing. He slowly and gently lowers you to the floor, away from the growing puddle.

“What for? Your water breaking? No need to be.” Ralak chuckles breathily, trying to make it obvious that it’s no big deal—he’s unbothered by it.

“Me-messed you up.” You grunt, breath straining as you lean all your weight back into him.

“You did no such thing.” He reassures you through a quick breath, adjusting you into a more comfortable position.

You lay on top of him, shifting onto your side and off the sharp throb in your lower back. You clutch his bicep with one hand and keep the other snug under your bump.

He’s more so in an awkward position than not, his back now against the base of the bed and his right leg propped up to keep you from rolling back. He has no issue staying put in this position if it means some sort of relief for you.

But your groans only deepen, lengthening and ending with small grunts.

“You alright, mama?” He checks in on you through a whisper, knowing that things move quickly once the water breaks.

You nod your head, trying to be strong, but he can see right through it. And you know it. You sputter out a sob and shake your head, finally admitting the truth—finally facing reality.

“I know, I know, tìyawn. Almost there.”

Even without tsaheylu, he is able to tell how long you have left just based on your sounds and body language. With each little grunt he notices that your face shifts to a brighter shade of pink.

He takes note of your tail, and how it’s now tightly coiled, tucked to the base of your tailbone—out the way. Your shoulders are bowed and your stomach sits low, hard as a rock.

“Oh!—Eywa, ple-ase.” You mumble a plea, eyes squeezing shut when you come to the height of your contraction. “Mmm’fuck—fuck.”

“A little longer.” He places a firm, comforting kiss on the temple of your head. “It will soon be over.”

You feel Ralak’s hand firmly patting your lower back, attempting to put the fire out. But now the pressure’s released, the pain is only more intense—spreading and morphing into a new feeling altogether.

“Ralak—Ralak!” You panic, your head rolling side to side as you strive against this new sensation.

“Right here with you.” He hums, pressing hard into your lower back with the ball of his palm. “What do you need?”

You begin frantically tugging at your soaked loincloth, trying your hardest to get it off of you. Ralak quickly takes over, untethering the knot and slipping it off you.

“Need to—aahaa! I think he’s—haah—he’s—he’s coming!” You yell, unable to fight the new feeling. An urge you’ve never felt before. The urge to push. “Ralak—I’m scared!”

“Listen to your body.” Your mate encourages you with a steady and calm voice.

His gaze snaps down to witness your leg rising into the air and your hand hooking under the back of your knee. His hand cups over yours, helping you support the weight of your suspended leg.

Ralak manoeuvres himself in a way that allows him to support you and see what’s happening. He gently tugs your leg back a little further, having a proper look. He can see just how swollen and tender the flesh between your legs is—ripe and ready. It’s time.

“Muntxate [wife]. Bear down if you need to.”

“I—I—urgh!” You cry out, finally giving into the urge to push, allowing your body to bear down in the way it’s been trying to. Holding your breath, you tuck your chin to your chest and sink your fingernails into Ralak’s bicep, pushing as best as you can in this position.

“Good, good. Good push, tanhì.” His voice is hushed but steady as he watches in awe as your body flourishes. “Syeha si [breathe].”

As the urge subsides, you release your breath and gasp for air a few times. If he’s really coming, you don’t want it to be here. You had both discussed doing this in the comfort of your own lake. The lake in the cave, where your relationship with him had blossomed to begin with.

“Not here.” You say out of breath, legs shaking terribly.

Ralak leans in closer to you, listening carefully to decipher your murmurs. You keep your eyes closed shut, unable to open them anyway. They feel as heavy as you do, weighed down with exhaustion and agony.

But as you feel your stomach tighten and the urge rush back in, you realise that time lessening. “Water—get me in the water, please!”

Ralak hesitates, scanning your body to see if moving you in this state is the right thing to do. He watches as you tense up in agony as you contract, and quickly the realisation dawns upon him, too. At this rate, the babe will be here at any moment.

And if your wishes are to give birth in the water, now is the time to fulfil them.

Ralak scoops you up into his firm clutch, rises to his feet, and rushes out the door. Taking his time down the steps, your grip around his neck tightens just as a groan rumbles in your chest. Your legs squirm in his grasp as they try to snap open.

“Hurry! He’s coming!” You grunt, burying your face into the crease of his peck, biting down to fight the feeling.

Ralak glances down at you a few times, brows gathered from the worry that plagues his heart. He’s holding you tight, so as not to let the wiggle of your body loosen his grip.

“Here.” He huffs out, nearing the entrance of the cave.

Immediately immersing himself hip-deep into the water, he moves hastily, submerging you as he makes his way over to the ledge and helps you into position.

The ledge makes a smaller, more shallow pool in the lake, perfect for you to sit in with your back supported by the bank.

Water is up to your chest, slushing and splashing against your neck as you desperately readjust yourself to get comfortable. Your head is perched on the bank of the lake, hands spread across to hold onto the rocky surface. Your toes grip the floor, rooting yourself to the ground to keep you stable, knees bobbing at the water's surface.

“Fuck! Ralak!” You cry out, feeling your body act on its own accord.

Ralak is already in front of you, one hand on your bump as the other slips between your thighs to feel your progression. All while he’s looking down at you with nothing but concern etched into his features, unsure of what more he can do for you without tsaheylu.

He witnesses your face turn red as you hold your breath again, using as much force as you can to push him out.

Ralaks hand moves from your bump to cup your cheek, his fingernails raking away the streaks of sweaty hair plastered to your face and tucking them behind your ear.

“Syeha si, tanhì [breathe].” He reminds you gently, exaggerating a breathing pattern you had rehearsed a few weeks ago, and you try to match his rhythm.

But you’re stuttering and sobbing, unable to establish a pattern and push at the same time. Your back is on fire and it feels as if the baby isn’t moving any further down.

The contraction finally ends with a loud wheeze and your head slumps back into the rocky bank. You shake your head as you struggle to open your heavy lidded eyes.

Your vision is blurry and spotty. You glance down in a haze and lock eyes for a moment with the worried giant before you, and then you feel yet another contraction wash over you. They are on top of one another—back to back—with little to no break between them.

“Fuck. Please. Please. Plea—” You weep weakly, eyes slamming shut as your chin makes contact with your chest, cutting off your pleas with a lengthy, guttural grunt. You push with what you have left, giving yourself a throbbing headache as a result.

“Pushing so, so well.” Ralak praises you with a hushed voice, feeling something press against his fingers.

As you strain, you feel the delirium set in. The panic of not knowing if you’re capable of doing this. Every inch of you more than ached, yet some parts of you have even gone numb from how long this has been going on.

You can barely get a proper breath in much less breathe the way you should when you’re pushing. You feel like your body may give out at any moment.

“Keep going, y/n.” He encourages you, seeing your exhaustion and feeling you stop.

“Ralak…lak.” You let out a sob and try to relax your body, but end up collapsing back into the rocky surface again. “‘m tired, lak.” You mumble shakily between laboured pants, “...want him out.”

“I hear you.” Ralak tries to reassure you, now supporting both your trembling legs as they threaten to give out. “He will soon be out, tanhì. But you have to keep going.”

“No—oh, no, no.” You cry, tensing up from another agonising contraction. You didn’t think they could get any more painful. “No more. No more, please.”

“Come now, big push for me.” Ralak instructs softly, repositioning himself to help deliver his son.

“Ugh—!” You scream, giving all you have left into this push. Beads of sweat roll down your temples at a concerning speed, and your face shifts to an even more vibrant shade of red. “Please! Please get him out of me!”

“He’s coming out, tìyawn. Keep pushing, almost there. Almost there.” Ralaks voice is low and laced with panic, despite his greatest efforts to keep calm and collected.

This cycle repeats for some time, instilling worry into both you and Ralak. You’re having a difficult time, and it’s taxing on your body to keep this going.

Truthfully he can tell that you’re really struggling, and he’s getting a little more worried as time passes. But then he feels the baby press against his fingers and hope fills him once more.

“That’s it. Push just like that, y/n.”

“Fuck—” And just as last time, you collapse back into the bank, depleted with nothing left to give. You begin to think that maybe everything you’ve been hearing was right.

Maybe you can’t do this.

“I…I can’t.” You sputter defeated, letting your legs go limp either side of you.

“Mawey [calm]. You can. Your body is made for this.” He reaffirms for not only you but also himself, he’s too afraid to lose you. No, he can’t lose you, too. He’s experienced too much loss.

“’s not comin’.” You shake your head lethargically, feeling faint. “He’s stuck.”

Hearing that makes his heart sink. Ronal’s words echo in his mind, putting him in a frantic state. He quickly composes himself, probing the tender flesh to help stretch it out. He feels something slimy and silken, and his ears perk up.

He’s right there. So close.

“He’s not. I feel him, he is right there.” Ralak tries to keep calm for you, attempting to reassure you as he quickly thinks about the next best move.

Zu’té isn’t back with the healer and there's not much else he can do. He looks down at you, taking in just how uncomfortable you look as he tries to imagine just how much pain you’re in. With a position like this, no wonder your back hurts. His eyes widen.

No wonder your progression has stalled.

“Move with me. Easy.” Ralak croons, carefully tucking his arm under your back to sit you up slowly. He throws your limp arms around his neck, and brings you to your knees and then your feet—supporting your weight as you get there.

“Lak, Lak!” You grimace and whimper as you try to work with your mate—your body is already so sore and weak that any movement is torturous.

“Need to get you off your back.” Ralak huffs, holding you in position until you’ve adjusted. You hold on to him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck as you settle into a squat. “A few more pushes, mama.”

“Haa—no, no.” You squeal in desperation, feeling his head descend even further down now that gravity has come into play.

Then your belly stiffens.

You bite the flesh of your cheek until you taste blood and bury your face into the dip of his collarbone—refusing the urge to push. But the instinct overrides you completely, leaving you in a panicked and delirious state.

“Take h-him out! Make the cut!”

“No, no cut. No cut.” Ralak utters a throaty whisper, pushing down into your lower back. “Bear down, muntxate [wife].”

“Ple—ase.” Your broken plea comes out as a low grunt as you shake your head frantically, driving your dulled nails into your mate. “It hurts, it hurts!”

“I know, ma’ y/n. But you must bear down, please.” His voice trembles, filled with worry, but his words are firm—non-negotiable. You continue to shake your head, fighting with what you have left, your laboured breathing deepening as you run out of strength to resist.

Ralak’s worry quickly turns into pure panic. Panic that you’ve really given up. Panic that you really may not make it out of this. That…he’ll lose you. He knows what he must do, despite it being against your wishes.

He gives your kuru a quick stroke, his way of warning you. It sends a shiver through you, but the pain is so excruciating that you can’t resist this, too.

Ralak quickly makes tsaheylu, bringing a brief moment of pure, instant relief, just enough to bring you out of your delirium. His wound reopens, burning and weeping. But not even that could prepare him for your pain.

It feels like each vertebrae in his spine instantaneously shifts out of place. It is excruciating. And strange—that urge to push. He can feel it too. It’s like an itch deep under your skin. Irresistible and uncontrollable.

“Push!” Ralak groans loudly, prompting you to bear down with whatever strength you can muster up.

You scream at the top of your lungs, achieving a frequency and volume so high it can be heard from the village. Ralak’s fingers quickly probe the tenderness between your legs to check your progress once more. Finally, he feels the baby’s head begin to emerge.

“Perfect push, tanhì. Keep going, keep going.” Now he’s winded, flustered and speaking breathily.

Your scream is cut off by your vulgar tongue, “Fuck! Fuck—it burns!” You cry out, feeling a bolt of white hot fire split you in two, making you jerk back. “It’s burning!” You sob, trying to wiggle away from the flame.

“He’s crowning. His head, shit—” He huffs, realising that the babe is coming too quickly, not giving you enough time to adjust, “Stop pushing.” His fingers probe the taut skin in attempts to prevent you from possibly tearing, “Breathe him out. Just as we practised.”

Your fingers dig even deeper into him as your head snaps up to shoot him a deadly glare. Wasn’t he just demanding that you push? To ‘listen to your body’?

You take deep, intentional breaths, eyes flicking down to search the cloudy water as you try your hardest to resist. He can feel your frustration through tshayelu, he can hear your thoughts.

“Syeha si, syeha si [Breathe, breathe]. Let yourself adjust. Let your body push for you.” Ralak tries to explain, using the bond to his advantage and setting a steady breathing pattern.

‘I can’t do it.’ You think to him, unsure if you’re even doing it right.

“You can. You are. Just like that.” Ralak works with you, probing the tender skin once more as he feels the head emerge. “A little longer.”

But yet, you feel yourself giving in.

“Can't. Help. It.” You whimper, your breath stuttering as it catches in your throat. Tears roll relentlessly down your cheeks. You need him out.

Now.

You drop to your knees and tuck your chin to your chest. “Haah!” Your breath finally releases, and a guttural, lengthy grunt follows after.

Ralak feels you push — hard. He readies himself, steadying his stance as he traces his fingers around the circumference of his unborn’s head to help guide him out.

He is, too, looking down into the murky water, trying his best to see what’s going on. All he can do is rely on his sense of touch and the feeling through the bond to help him.

“Ngh—ugh!” You feel a pop between your legs and the pressure minutely releases.

Just then Ralak feels the rest of your baby’s head emerge. He can feel the curls of his silken hair, and how they’re laid flat to his skull. Ralak nearly breaks down right there, but fights the array of emotions bombarding him all at once to recenter his focus back on you.

“His head is out.” He croaks, supporting the babe's head with the palm of his hand. “Hair like yours.”

Ralak gently unlatches your grip on his shoulder and guides your hand under the water and towards his. Aside from wanting you to feel what he’s feeling, he’s hoping that this will give you the strength to keep going.

You feel the sliminess first, and then the soft, velvety texture of your son's head. You weep, slumping your head into Ralak's chest as you focus on gathering as much energy during the small break from the contractions.

It’s incredible to know that your body created this life.

“Oh god…it’s him.” You barely whisper.

“You are so strong, you know that? Mighty.” Ralak hums, cupping the back of your head with his hand. You lift your head to look at him and he rests his forehead against yours, searching your eyes with his. “One more push for me, okay?”

You nod your head, bottom lip curled over to touch your chin. His hand slips from your neck to your cheek, his thumb wiping away one tear of a thousand. The tightening of your stomach has you tensing up, gripping onto him for support. You groan and moan until the contraction reaches its peak, where you begin to grunt and push against the budding pressure.

He steadies himself once more, quickly slipping his hand off your cheek back into the water. He holds your son's head with one hand, and hooks the fingers of his other hand under his son's left shoulder. It pops out with the help of his gentle tug, and you bear down even harder.

“A little more.” He encourages you, waiting patiently to feel his son's right shoulder emerge. He feels the bridge of his shoulder and Ralak jumps into action, carefully guiding his son's shoulder out. “Perfect, there it is.” Ralak mumbles quickly, hyperfocused on ensuring a safe delivery.

You whimper when the burning sensation comes back, shoving your forehead into his chest. It’s hard to breathe. Every fibre in your being has you wanting to hold your breath for more leverage to get him out. Your noises fade to little choked muffles, quick and uneven.

“Breathe.” Ralak chokes out, feeling your burning lungs through tsaheylu. He immediately establishes a somewhat steady breathing pattern for you to sync into.

“Pwah!” You let out a shaky, harsh breath of air, panting as you try to sync with him. “Urgh—ah!” you groan as you push, surprised by how long this torturous contraction is lasting.

“Please get him out of me, please, please.” You whisper into his chest.

“Shoulders are out, tanhì” Ralak huffs next to your ear, tenderly rubbing his cheek against your temple.

“Catch him, Lak.” You wheeze, your legs shaking uncontrollably from carrying your weight for such a long time. He wants so badly to do the rest for you, now really sensing your weariness through the bond. But he couldn’t, all he could do was support you through every second of this.

“I have him, muntxate [wife].” He whispers, lips pressed to your ear. “Last push.”

A hoarse, empty cry evades your trembling lips as you bear down a final time. Suddenly the pressure releases entirely, and you feel your son slip out of you and into Ralaks hands. You let out a loud moan of relief, immediately pulling away from Ralak’s chest to look down into the water.

“He’s out. He’s here, tanhì. You did it, mama. You did it.” Ralaks cracked voice is full of relief. “He—he is so small.”

You fall back onto your behind, breaking tsaheylu with your mate. Your eyes search for your newborn but you can’t make anything out of the murkiness of the water.

You look up to witness tears fill Ralak’s eyes for the first time as he holds the baby underneath the water. Your back hits the rocky bank of the lake in solace knowing your son is in safe hands.

Then Ralak grits his teeth and lets go.

“Lak. Ralak.” Your panicked, hoarse voice calls for him, but you’re too weak to get up. “Ho-Hold him, Ralak.”

Ralak looks like he’s fighting his own instinct to scoop up his young and cradle him in his chest. And that’s because he is. It’s taking everything in him not to do just that, but he knows that this is the way. The right way.

“Mawey [calm]. First breath.” Ralak gently reminds you of the Metkayina ritual. He knows he must do this, especially in the absence of the Tsahik. “Let him swim.”

You watch intently as the water slowly clears, revealing the wiggle of your newborn's body. “Help him.” You plead with trembling lungs, having a hard time watching this unfold.

Ralak stays close to his newborn, ready to jump into action in an instant. But the babe rises to the top all on his own—swimming directly from the womb. You burst into tears, chest swelling with pride and every emotion under the moon.

Nonetheless, Ralak taps his bum softly, his other hand hovering underneath his son's feet in the case he needs to intervene. This is the first moment where your son has made you both proud.

Your son breaks the water with his face, chubby cheeks and puckered lips. You hear the sound of his little, first breath — pwah. His eyes open as he looks around, catching sight of his father scooping him into his arms.

“You did it, my little one.” Ralak whispers with a crack in his voice, shifting his gaze over to you. “You did it. I’m so proud of you.” He repeats in absolute shock and awe, and this time you know he’s talking to you, too.

Ralak holds his son close to his chest and away from his weeping wound, using his body heat to keep him warm as he makes his way over to you. The babe wails when he catches your scent, squirming in his fathers arms as if he were trying to get to you on his own terms.

“She is right here, son.” He whispers, bouncing him a bit as he places him in your arms, helping you hold him for the first time. “Hold his head.”

Your arms feel like jelly and they won’t stop shaking, but you’re eager to hold your newborn. Ralak tucks himself closely at your side, keeping a precautionary hand under your arm. Immediately, he calms, gurgling and cooing as he listens to the familiar and comforting thump of your heart. It’s all he’s heard in the past ten months.

Teary eyed, you look down through blurred vision, taking in the sight of your son. Every feature. Every stripe. Every freckle. His dark turquoise skin, golden eyes, pointed pink ears. A tail like his father, but five fingered, like his mother. He is the perfect mix, the perfect balance.

“You’re perfect.” You whisper, admiring his little coos and floppy, soft ears that lay flat against him. His head turns towards your bosom, puckered lips brushing against your top in search of your nipple. “Hungry? Hm?” You hum shakily.

Ralak is quick to help you, helping you position him just right. Your son shakes his head as he tries to latch for the first time, and both you and Ralak watch quietly with wobbly smiles plastered on your faces.

With two fingers, Ralak presses down onto your breast, angling your nipple in a way that makes it easier for you and him. You can’t help the grimace on your face when he does latch and suckle, but it quickly turns into a smile as you watch him feed for the first time.

“Rak’äni.” Ralak proudly announces the name of his first born son.

You look up at him, witnessing a tear or two roll down his cheek. You’d never seen this giant cry like this before. The past two days have been too much.

“Rak’äni.” You repeat with a smile, Ralaks eyes finally meeting yours. He leans in and meets your lips with his, kissing you tenderly. He lingers there forehead to forehead as he pulls away, allowing himself to be vulnerable—to soak in his emotions.

“I love you. I see you, y/n. For life. And beyond.” Ralak sheds a few more tears as he speaks the words.

“Nìt’iluke [neverendingly; forever].” You say wearily, heavy lidded eyes struggling to stay open.

Snap.

Ralak hears the sound of a branch breaking underneath the weight of a person's foot. Ralak looks behind him, hand under the water clutching the dagger on his hip, ready to protect his family. He sees the silhouette of a woman standing at the opening of the cave, basket on her hip as the last rays of sun shine through her.

The first eclipse is starting.

Is that how long this has gone on for?

His heart skips a beat as his eyes narrow to see who it is…to see if it’s how he suspects it may be. Did she really follow us?

He then sees a taller figure emerge behind her, then another, and another…and another. And soon he counts seven heads in total and it dawns on him.

It’s your family—and his.

“We have visitors, little one.” Ralak coos quietly at his baby, his thumb just barely gliding over his cheek. “Are you alright, mama?” His voice sounds muffled and distant, as if he were at the other side of the lake. “The healer is here.”

“Tired...Hurts.” You mumble, letting your eyes fall shut.

You feel Ralak’s gentle touch as he tucks himself behind you, supporting you with his body. His arm is under yours, keeping the babe safely above water as he feeds. You can fully relax your body now, sinking into your mate’s pillowy chest.

“Rest.” Ralak whispers. “I have you.”

“You won’t believe, brother. The tshahik is also in labour. And I couldn’t find you…I heard y/n scream and—oh…” Zu’té lowers his voice to a whisper, catching sight of the freshly born babe in your arms. “Tak. He’s here.” His voice falters even more as he nears his blood.

His only family outside of Ralak. He’s awestruck, taking in all the different features of a new kind as he feeds. The babe's skin resembles the depth of his mother, but the tone of his father. Stripes like an omaticaya. Tail like a Metkayina. Five-fingered.

Truthfully, the length of his stare has Ralak feeling a little uneasy and a bit protective.

“Toto.” Ralak hasn’t called him that in years, “Meet your nephew—Rak’äni.”

“Rak’äni.” Zu’té repeats through a whisper, keeping his distance from the babe. “Fyole [beyond perfection].”

Ralak relaxes, smiling proudly. “He is.”

Zu’té fumbles with a small satchel on his hip, taking something out of it in a haste. He hands Ralak something small, something delicate. It's weaved to perfection, with colours of the sunset.

"For him." Zu’té says in a hushed voice, unfolding the garment to show his brother. It's a hat, an entirely new concept to the Metkayina. Ralak looks at him, a little confused, eyes bouncing between the strangely shaped item and his brother. "For the child's head."

Ralak smiles, his furrowed brows relaxing when he understands. Zu’té raises his brows and gently nudges it closer to the babe in your arms. Ralak nods, watching as Zu’té slips it on his head as gently as he can.

"Toto, that is very kind—"

"Don't flatter yourself." Zu’té cuts his brother short, pulling back to see the finished result of his hard work. It fits perfectly. "I had plenty of time."

Zu’té steps back, giving you two some space.

A sudden splash of the water makes Ralak jolt in his skin, but he calms down once he realises that it’s the healer situating herself next to you so she can tend to you. He isn’t all here right now, either.

“You did well, sa’nu.” You recognize her voice and strain to open your eyes, vaguely seeing her features.

She was at all your lessons with Ronal. The only one who didn’t look at you like some sort of alien. The only one who treated you with respect.

“All on your own. You need to be strong for a little while longer, alright? This may hurt.”

She begins gently massaging your abdomen under the water—a step that is empirical for healing. You clench your jaw and squeeze your eyes shut, shoving your head back into Ralak, who is visibly trying to withhold his look of displeasure.

“I get that look quite a bit. It’ll be over soon, sempu.”

You look down with foggy vision and see the hat on your baby's head. Immediately, you know who made it. You turn your head, looking directly at Zu’té and smile, mouthing 'thank you'. Zu’té returns the smile with a slight nod, remaining silent.

A high-pitched, excited voice has both you and Ralak turning your heads to see your little sister.

“Woah! Mama, look!” Tuk exclaims, tugging Neytiri by the hand to get a closer look.

“Shh, Tuk. He is asleep.” Neytiri hushes her youngest, nuzzling her into her side. The others stay quiet as they approach, crouching down at the bank of the lake to look at their new family member.

“I am so proud of you, my daughter. He looks like you.” Neytiri whispers, raking her fingers through your knotted hair.

You exhale a shaky breath and smile weakly, leaning into your mothers comforting touch.

Jake looks down at the suckling babe in your arm, eyes burning as they gloss over with tears. “You did it, babygirl.”

Hearing your fathers words after so many years of feeling like a failure, you can’t help the sob you sputter out.

“D-Daddy.” You cry shakily, breath hitching. “It was s-so h-hard.”

“I know, baby. I know. But you did it. ” He coos at his own baby, rubbing your shoulder as he looks over to Ralak. “You both did.” He smiles with his son-in-law, cupping the back of his head with his other hand.

Neteyam and Lo’ak wait patiently at the back, not wanting to crowd you. Neteyam is particularly worried for you, he’s been beating himself up for not checking on you when he knew deep in his gut that he should have.

Lo’ak is… nervous, despite his big talk about being the best uncle. Your parents pull back, allowing some space for you, Ralak and the healer.

“Guys.” You sniffle, craning your neck to look at them. “C-Come see your nephew.”

They approach cautiously and kneel down next to you and Ralak. Neteyam smiles, golden eyes quivering as he takes in his features.

“It’s uncle teytey.” Neteyam takes his nephew's tiny hand, his thumb grazing over his five fingers. Then Neteyam looks at you, his expression going from bright to glum. “I’m sorry I didn’t check on you.”

You shake your head and smile, barely keeping your eyes open. “Don’t be.”

“Y/n. I—” To your surprise, Lo’ak is speechless. “He is beautiful.”

“Thank you, uncle Lo’ Lo’.” You smile with another sniffle, using that god-damned nickname he wouldn’t let up on.

Lo'ak returns the smile, hearing it fall from your quivering lips makes his heart full. You finally lean back against Ralak's chest, allowing your eyes to close, heavy and swollen from all your shed tears of joy and pain.

You feel the healer’s hands leave your stomach and make their way to your chest where she ensures the babe has latched properly. “Perfect latch. You are a natural, y/n.”

You smile wobbly at her words, feeling extra proud of yourself.

“I will leave the medicines here, ensure she takes them on time.” She’s speaking to Ralak, who is also in a daze, gazing down at his son. “I will come and check on her tonight. Until then, she needs to rest. No heavy lifting.”

Ralak finally averts his attention to the healer, a smile on his lips as he nods. He’d never let you lift a finger, anyways.

“Ralak, your wound is open.” Neytiri speaks with concern in her voice.

The healer looks down to see his mangled laceration. “Eywa…Now, this will hurt.” Her eyes go wide and she immediately gets her things to sew him back up. Neteyam and Lo’ak look at the bleeding gash with wide eyes. Jake grimaces.

“D-Does that hurt?” Tuk asks shyly, peeking out from behind Neytiri to see.

Ralak shakes his head with a smile, too overjoyed with the safe delivery of his first born son to even notice anymore.

“No pain. Only happiness.” Ralak says softly, accent heavy on his tongue as he looks back down at his now stirring babe.

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dpspcehntr · 1 month ago

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Hello 🤗 I have a question that has crossed my mind from time to time and I would like your (and maybe your followers) opinion on this, if you don't mind.

Thinking realistically, rather than with a romantic notion, do you think the LaDs men have had much, if any, sexual experience that hasn't been with MC?

Would God of the Tides have concubines brought to him, or gone on dates as a land lubber? Or do you think his bond with MC would prevent him from 'engaging' with anyone else?

Did Xavier date anyone before MC joined the guardians (I don't know the name I forget lol)?

I don't know anything about Sylus

Would Zayne have had a prom date or a girlfriend before he met with the current timeline MC? I know he says we are his only experience, but does that include just kissing someone?

I’M SO GLAD YOU ASKED!! One, I have also been rotating this around in my brain for quite some time and how I feel very lightly colors how I write for them! I haven't read much (if any at all) of the myths so I will just be looking at the present. I love thinking about this cause tbh sometimes the characterizations in game are not as full as I would like. I won’t keep this long but if you want more detail I’m happy to add to this post! Anyway! Here are my thoughts!

Rafayel is literally the reason I had this thought in the first place. I thought it was so silly to think that he as a rich artsy boy had never ONCE hooked up with someone. He absolutely is a FUCKBOY! I will hear nothing else about it. I can't image he's not when so much of his overall characterization just oozes that kind of energy for me. My exception to this is that I don't think he enjoyed himself very much. Used sex kind of like a numbing thing cause he felt the void of your absence hard. He's not like a community dick kind of fuckboy but he has definitely been passed around a few times, if not as a professional then in art school.

Xavier is another one who I feel has some experience before (re)meeting MC. His experience is alot more clumsy and unsure compared to Rafayel. More of a situation like 'I want to be ready when I find her so I'm going to try it with someone else to be good at it. There may only be one person he's had sex with before MC and it was so bad she just had to leave. When that failed he just turned to erotica and p*rn to fill in the gaps. Eventually getting used to using his own imagination and getting off when needed. So when the time comes he's very prepared and VERY horny.

Sylus is a bit of a hard one because yes absolutely he is having sex with people before meeting MC. His overall vibe very much eludes to the fact that he has lived a life and I'm sure that is included. I don't think he's slinging it out to anyone who asks but he has been in some kind of relationship before. If anything we can say he is very comfortable having sex and has had sex before meeting MC. I have some more thoughts on this but I will keep it there for now!

Zayne from what I know has said that he isn't experienced and we are his first and I believe that. He very much gives full focus on the task at hand kind of man. Definitely not in high school but in med school I image him having a non serious fling with someone just to say he tried. They broke up soon after and he just never tried again until he and MC reconnected. That being said, he is a bit of a perv and has ALOT of pent up energy so once they start they literally don't stop. Like a weekend stuck in an endless loop of sleep, eat, fuck until he's at work desperate for you once again. The problem for him is learning how to control himself now that has MC.

My ask box is open for further conversations on this cause I genuinely love talking about this! Lets keep the conversation going!

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margoisthemoon2 · 1 year ago

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Halsin nsfw ABC

A/N: uhh i 100% live by helsin being a soft dom in public and a hard dom in private

NB reader so…yeah

* A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) ~ He is most defiantly a big aftercare person. Massaging your tender body and kissing any bruises you got. Running a bath and making sure you heal. “Are you okay my heart? Was i too rough?”

* B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) ~ waist. (Sounds weird ik). But he is a huge waist grabber. It makes it easier for him to manhandle you and keep you in place.

* C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) ~ He loves seeing his cum on your back or torso.

* D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) ~ none he choose to share everything with you

* E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) ~ VERY!! Dude has had plenty of partners over the years. He’s a man and he knows what he is doing and what he wants. End of story.

* F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) ~ Missionary. He wants to see your entire body on display as he rams into you.

* G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) ~ He can crake a joke or two but he’s more serious and paying attention if you’re enjoying yourself or not so he can catch you giving consent or using a safeword to stop

* H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) ~ It indeed matches. He doesnt like to shave often in other parts thats not his face but he makes sure it doesnt get too crazy down there

* I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) ~ Very romantic. Every position that is changed you can hear him say “Is this okay?” “Let me know if you dont like this” he is a huge kisser during intimacy

* J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) ~ He likes to get straight to it with you but when he is alone and thinking about you he would touch himself once in a while.

* K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) ~ Breeding. Even if you cant get preggers. Breeding.

* L = Location (favorite places to do the do) ~ Anywhere. Any time. But mainly in nature where you cant be seen.

* M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) ~ Just your presence makes him hot and heavy for you.

* N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) ~ He wont do bondage. He doesn’t want you to tied up, he knows how it feels to not have freedom

* O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) ~ Hes a big person on giving. He cant have intimacy if he hasnt gone down on you yet.

* P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) ~ All of the above. Sometimes depends on his mood. He can be rough and hard and other times he can be slow and take in the moment

* Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) ~ He likes quickies. Knowing that its what you both want and you are satisfied is most important.

* R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) ~ He a ‘dont knock it till you try it’ type of person

* S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) ~ He can go multiple rounds. He will go from sun up to sun down if you can last just as long

* T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) ~ He doesnt own any toys himself nor does he use them. However he is very open to you using a plug.

* U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) ~ Hes a huge tease. he loves rubbing your bottom getting closer and closer to your hole before pulling away and acting like he wasnt doing anything

* V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) ~ He grubts alot. A moan and here and there. But he loves cursing during intomacy

* W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) ~ He wants to go as deep as he can in you. Other than missionary he loves the position ‘Praying Mantis’

* X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) ~ He is big and girthy. Hes 7” soft and 7.5” hard and 8” around.

* Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) ~ Very high. But he holds himself back as long as he can

* Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) ~ It takes him a while to fall asleep. He always make sure you are comfortable and okay. About 95% of the time he wants you to fall asleep before he goes.

#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 halsin #halsin #halsin x reader #bg3 smut #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate tav #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate #baldurs gate halsin #x reader #reader insert #reader #halsin smut #halsin spoilers #baldurs gate 3 smut #baldurs gate x reader #baldurs gate 3 x halsin smut

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little-diable · 8 months ago

Text

My Greatest Fear - Dean Winchester (smut)

Don't say I didn't warn y'all. Inspired by Benson Boone's new song "My Greatest Fear". Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean broke things off with the reader years ago, the biggest mistake of his life. But when Sam tells his brother that (y/n) is getting married, Dean knows it's time to make things right. He won't leave this life behind without being able to call her his once again.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, ex-lovers to lovers, some angst, lots of fluff tho, reader is a runaway bride

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (3k words)

Got a lot on my mind that keeps me up at night, I’m tossing and turning, thinking that my life’s gone to waste

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Dean shot the waitress a big smile as she placed his breakfast down, blushing as the handsome man winked at her. The older Winchester brother was too focused on his food to pick up on the uneasiness radiating off Sam, to focus on the sadness swimming in his brother’s pupils.

“Fuck, that’s good.” Dean’s moans rumbled through him as he ate the greasy deliciousness, sipping on his coffee every now and then. It took him a while to lift his gaze, to allow his green eyes to focus on Sam’s untouched breakfast, forcing Dean’s eyebrows to furrow in confusion. “Not hungry? Shouldn’t you eat something after a long run?”

“Mhm,” Sam’s eyes were focused on the window, unable to look at his brother any longer. His heart clenched in his chest, his mind was racing faster than it had in the past months, struggling to part his lips.

“Sam,” Dean’s raspy voice forced Sam’s eyes back towards his older brother, unable to hold eye contact for long. “What’s wrong?”

Dean had put down his breakfast burger while taking another sip of coffee. He patiently waited for Sam to speak, to spill whatever was visibly plaguing him. But Sam kept quiet, deeply inhaling as if he had to muster the strength to speak. Dean repeated his brother’s name, much quieter this time around, gentle almost – as if he had finally realised that whatever Sam was about to speak would hurt them both.

“I received an email this morning.” It was a whisper, nothing more, words so obscurely simple that Dean couldn’t help but laugh. But Sam didn’t give in, killing Dean’s hope that Sam was simply fucking with him. Something heavy was about to claw through Sam, something heavy that could determine the outcome of this very day. “It was from Mary, (y/n)’s sister.”

Now it was on Dean to freeze, not expecting his brother to speak her name. Their eyes met, urging Sam to keep on speaking, to tell his brother about the email he had opened with shaky fingers, freezing in his step as he read the words she had written to him.

“(Y/n)’s getting married, Dean.” Sam was forced to watch Dean sink back into the seat, arms crossed in front of his chest, uneasy eyes staring down at the table. And for a moment, neither of them spoke, letting the words sink in – words that had been Dean’s greatest fear ever since he had left her all these years ago.

He had been stupid back then, too childish for his own good. Guided by his father’s words, he had dropped (y/n) and the life they could have lived together. His father had made pretty promises, telling his young son of women awaiting him, women he shouldn’t miss out on because of a marriage that would only tie him to (y/n), away from all the fun he could experience. The greatest mistake of his life, a mistake he hated himself for every single day.

“That’s good for her. I’m happy she found somebody who treats her right.” The words pained Dean to speak, rolling off his tongue with a sharp edge that left Sam cringing. His hand found Dean’s forearm, gently squeezing his brother’s arm in a gesture so unfamiliar, Dean had to stop himself from shaking off Sam’s hand.

“Dean, I’ve always loved her like a sister, I only want what’s best for her. But you’re my brother, I know how much not having her around scars you, I see it every day on your face. Get her back, try it at least.”

Of all the things that I've been afraid to lose, my greatest fear of all is losing you

……

“I shouldn’t do this.” They were parked in front of the small church, eyes watching the big crowd of unfamiliar faces. Both Dean and Sam were wearing a suit, knowing that they had to blend in with the wedding guests to find their way to (y/n). “Why should she take me back? Why should she even listen to me?”

“Dean, if there is one thing I know it’s that she still loves you. Let’s get your girl back.” Sam was first to step out into the warm morning, eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses as they walked up to the crowd. He felt Dean close, not daring to speak up with his choked-up throat, with his heart pounding in his chest, knowing that this would be his only shot to make things right for once in his life.

“Mary!” Sam’s voice echoed through the air, eyes focused on the frame of (y/n)’s sister. The young woman flung herself into Sam’s open arms, chuckling into his neck as he held her close for a moment. A moment too long for Dean who was growing more antsy with every passing second.

“Thank you for coming. She’s making a mistake, Sam. You’re my only hope with this.” The words left Dean frozen, confused eyes flickering between his brother and Mary. He hadn’t read the email Mary had sent to Sam, hadn’t asked any further questions about the man (y/n) was about to marry, trusting that he was somebody she loved. “Come, I’ll bring you to her.”

“What the fuck man?” Dean growled the words at Sam as he followed them through the crowd and towards a small house built near the church. Sam fell into pace with his brother, watching Mary lead them towards the place where (y/n) was currently getting ready.

“Well, you didn’t think I’d let you do this without knowing (y/n) would willingly leave her fiancé, did you? I wouldn’t destroy her happiness just like that, Dean.” Realistically, Dean should have known that Sam wouldn’t just push him into this without knowing that there was a chance to get her back. Sam had hated him for a while after he had left (y/n), punishing Dean for breaking her heart at any given chance, a broken bond that had needed months to be repaired.

“(Y/n)? I brought two special guests.” Mary’s voice echoed through the small cabin, ringing in the brother’s ears as they waited outside. Dean felt his hands tremble, forced to let go of deep exhales as Mary opened the door for them, allowing them to step inside. His eyes were drawn to (y/n)’s like a moth to a flame, and his world stopped spinning, unable to focus on anything but her.

It took (y/n) a second to react, seemingly confused about the appearance of the two hunters she hadn’t seen in years. She was pulled into a hug by Sam, giving Dean another moment to admire her, the white dress she wore – a sight he had only seen in his dreams, imagining this very day, with him waiting at the altar for her. Dreams that had evaporated into a hazy nothingness the day he had left her.

“Hi, sweetheart.” She sank into Dean’s grasp, clinging to him as if he hadn’t been the man who had broken her heart all these years ago. He watched his brother and Mary leave the cabin, giving the two some time alone as they kept on holding one another.

“What are you doing here, Dean?” (Y/n) mumbled the words against the fabric of his suit jacket, not caring about smudging her make-up, not caring about anything but the way Dean held her close – as if he hadn’t ever stopped holding her. Carefully, Dean let her go, needing to give them some distance for the words he was about to speak, knowing that this could escalate any moment now.

“I can’t let you marry another man without telling you that leaving you was my greatest mistake. A life without you has always been my biggest fear, I was stupid, so fucking stupid, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have listened to Dad, I should have married you right that day. And I hate myself for not doing it, for letting you go when you have always been my whole world. I know there is no chance for me to make things right, and even though Sammy and Mary hope that I will sweep you off of your feet and bring you back home to us, I know I can’t.” Tears dripped from her eyes, tears (y/n) didn’t care to wipe away.

“I hated you for years, you broke me, Dean. You took away my life, my friends, the people I had grown to love. You ripped my heart right out of my chest, and even though I tried to fight for it, to regain its strength, I miserably failed. I should curse you, should tell you to fuck off and never show your face to me again. But I can’t. For Christ’s sake, Dean. What are we doing here?” He cupped her face with shaking fingers, letting his forest-green eyes run over her gorgeous face.

“I want to kill him for getting a chance to love you, time that has been wasted because of me. But I don’t want to take another choice from you. If you want to marry him, I will watch from the first row, hell, I’ll even carry your veil.” His voice shook as he whispered the words, growing tense as (y/n) rested her hands on top of his, still cupping her cheeks.

“And if I don’t want to marry him?”

……

I'm scared to take another picture of you, 'cause I'm scared to have another thing that I can lose, oh, dear, who am I without you here?

“I thought you were taking me home, where are we going?” Her laughter echoed through Baby, eyes set on Dean’s grinning features. They had left the church a while ago, running away like she had secretly hoped they would. (Y/n) had always been a dreamer, a dreamer who had pictured that very moment since the day it had dawned on her – about to marry a man she didn’t love. A man who wasn’t Dean Winchester.

“We’ve got another thing to take care of first, I am not losing any more time.” Baby screeched to a halt in front of a pink church, a sight that left (y/n) confused, and Dean and Sam chuckling. They made their way into the church, with her fingers interlaced with Dean’s, with her white wedding gown clinging to her frame, with his suit hugging his frame.

“Dean, Sam, I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you two around here!” An elderly man greeted them with a big smile. His brown eyes were drawn to (y/n)’s almost instantly, with a knowing smile growing on his lips – a smile that had an almost proud touch to it. “That’s her, huh? Took you quite some time, didn’t it.” “(Y/n), that’s Danny, an old friend of ours we met on a hunt. He could wed us, with Sammy as our witness, if you’ll have me.” Her heart had stopped beating, skipping a few beats as Dean’s words sank in. Her teary eyes found his and with a laugh clawing through her, she pressed a kiss to his lips, drawing a groan out of Dean, who tried to prolong the kiss for as long as possible.

“I will always have you, Dean.” She was pulled towards the altar, unable to stop her tears from dripping as Danny began speaking a prayer she paid no attention to. All (y/n) could do was study Dean, the love swimming in his pupils, the way he looked at her as if she was his sun, alighting the darkest days with her mere presence. A soul crafted for his to hold onto, to love till their time together would eventually run out.

“Do you have any rings?” Danny’s soft voice ripped (y/n) out of her thoughts, about to whisper a soft, disappointed “No”, but before she could even part her lips, Sam excitedly spoke up. Her eyes watched the tall Winchester brother, how he reached for his breast pocket to expose a small envelope to her glassy eyes. Wordlessly he pushed it towards Dean, who opened it with an unwavering smile stuck to his lips.

“I bought these rings years ago, sure to eventually push yours down on your finger. I am sorry it took me this long.” Her sob left Dean chuckling, exposing his also teary eyes to hers. She had held onto all these longings for years, mere dreams that were now finally turning real – as if she was just sleeping through another longing.

But, you're here, now, and that makes it better, somehow

……

“Let me.” Dean’s soft voice filled his bedroom. He was standing behind (y/n), carefully helping her out of her wedding dress with his gaze focused on the ring clinging to his finger. The past hours had flown by all too quickly, turning her from a runaway bride into his wife. His wife. A title so unfamiliar, Dean had to fight against the urge to pinch himself.

His for eternity. His to love. His to worship.

“I love you, Dean.” (Y/n) whispered her words as she stepped out of her dress, exposing her underwear-clad frame to his hungry eyes. She was pulled into a teeth-chasing kiss, a kiss dripping with emotions that made her feel all too dizzy, having to hold onto Dean before she could be ripped into another dimension.

“I love you too, sweetheart. And I’m so fucking sorry for missing out on this for years.” He pressed her down on the mattress, giving her a show as he slowly undressed. Her body was aching for him, needing to feel Dean close after all these long years apart.

“Stop apologising with words and show me that you truly mean them.” His lips kissed her chest, the valley between her breasts as he undid her bra, exposing her hardening nipples to his twinkling eyes. Dean could cum just from the sight of her naked frame, a sight he had only seen in his dreams for the past years, not daring to imagine being this fortunate again.

“God, you’re so beautiful. I promise to worship you for as long as you want me to.” Dean’s raspy words vibrated on her skin, covering her body with goosebumps as he kneaded her soft flesh. His cock was pressed against her clothed heat, drawing moans from her whenever he moved against her heat, desperate for the kind of friction that left them both trembling.

“I need you inside of me, Dean.” Her raspy whispers left him groaning against her skin as she raised her hips to help him pull her damp panties down her legs. Just this morning, (y/n) had imagined this very moment, knowing that she’d think of Dean when her husband touched her, a loveless marriage she would have been trapped in.

“Are you still on birth control?” (Y/n) could only nod her head, mind taken up by the feeling of his wandering hands, keeping her pressed against him. Dean's cock twitched against her naked cunt, brushing through her arousal-covered folds to coat himself, “I love you, and I’ll do my best to prove it to you for the rest of our lives.”

“I love you too, Dean.” He pushed into her with a groan, forehead falling against hers as she fluttered around him. It felt as if he had entered paradise, falling to rest on clouds covering his body. She was his Elysium, his safe haven, the one where Dean could be the truest version of himself.

He moved slowly at first, both needed some time to adjust to one another after all these years, but the second their bodies relaxed, properly enjoying one another’s closeness, Dean began to move faster. Their bodies met with every thrust, eyes holding a contact so intense, (y/n) feared her heart would explode right in her chest.

Dean was taking his time with her, this wasn’t a rushed fuck to make up for all the time lost, no, it was so much more. This was the purest form of love, a one-of-a-kind love both had clung to in lonely nights, with wandering minds and trembling hands. This is what they had been destined to have, years ago – a love they were now rediscovering.

“You feel so good, baby.” He felt her clenching around his cock, drawing another gritty sound out of Dean. (Y/n) was long gone, pushed into another dimension where she only knew Dean, nothing but his love, his touch, his irrevocable longing for her. Sensations she was taken hostage by, unable to shake them.

His warm fingertips found her pulsing bundle, circling it with just enough pressure to draw his name out of her. (Y/n) could feel her orgasm slithering its way up her body, whispering to her to hold onto her husband, and with her fingernails clawed into Dean’s shoulders, she came. He followed her right down the edge, moaning against her lips as their bodies were moulded together.

“Fuck, we’ll have to do that all through the night, husband.” (Y/n) whispered the words as a few heavy pants left her, making a laugh claw out of Dean who chased her slightly swollen lips for another kiss.

“Trust me, I won’t let you leave our bed for weeks, wife.”

Don't know how the broken pieces fit together if you leave it, so, don't go, don't go, I would take your hand if I could reach it

#Dean Winchester smut #Dean Winchester x reader #Dean Winchester imagine #supernatural

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koolades-world · 5 months ago

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Ok so this is on the angsty side, you can write this how you generally want but I do hope you keep the concept the same, you can add less angst if you want

Ok so

A replaced AU where MC is pretty much discarded by the brothers so they can pay more attention to the new exchange student. It starts off slowly at first, them saying they want to make sure RN(replacement name) knows their way around and that they’re new so they want to make them feel welcomed, but then it starts becoming where they stop hanging out with MC in general. They stop inviting them out, they forget to tell them food is ready or that they ordered food(they don’t even get them food either). MC just feels very forgotten

Ok so for the actual request now lol

Can you do pretty much this concept for a fic with MC who got attacked and really badly injured by another demon, was found by either Solomon or Simeon, and after they contacted Diavolo(and got MC bandaged and cleaned up) they all collectively decided(Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, Solomon, and even Luke) that they wouldn’t tell the brothers what happened. They wouldn’t even have MC go back to HOL, they let them stay at purgatory hall and would have Barbatos keep an eye on them when they were in RAD. They’ll wait to see how long it takes them to notice their absence. And months pass. Months of MC slowly healing from her trauma of being attacked and slowly learning how to be a basic human again. None of the brothers realize MC is even gone. They only notice once one of them need something from them and they ask if anyone has seen them. When they go to Diavolo to ask, he immediately reprimands and yells at them for not noticing the fact that they were gone for MONTHS. He asks where they were when MC was attacked and bleeding out on the floor and where they were when they were healing from that attack

They now all feel like shit and they just get the exact same reaction from Solomon and Simeon when they try and call them too. Everytime they see MC in public, they always have someone by their side, always ready to keep them away from them. When they do see MC from far away, they see how small they look, how they’re constantly looking around and flinching at any sudden movement or loud sound. They feel even worse by the day. They were all also blocked on MC’s DDD so they can’t even try and talk through messages or calls. They need to slowly regain their trust, if they even regain it at all.

Yeah that got a little angsty lol

Again you don’t have to make it as angsty as I described, you can make it as angsty as you want(I would love a good cry though lol)

Please please please and thank you! Take your time with this one if you need

this request vanished on me a couple times now so I grabbed it as soon as I saw it again! curse tumblr and whatever it’s on. really hope they get around to fixing that because it is so scary and nerve wracking to have something disappear on you like that

i can only assume the second ask was also you haha it was quite fun to read and really get into the idea you created :) i decided to use Rn for the replacement mc, like how I used Mc as a name, since i liked it so much

alright enough about that, i love my angst and it feels like you almost knew it haha. you asked and i will deliver! i veered off the idea a little, but i hope you enjoy :)

enjoy <3

bygone

It was hard being second best at anything. Constantly being passed over and just missing the mark of being best. It hurt, knowing you were so close yet so far from number one. But what you were to the brothers now was far worse than second best; forgotten.

You don't know when this all had started, and initially, you'd been forgiving, because the treatment Rn was getting was the treatment you wished you'd had when you arrived in the Devildom. You wouldn't want to wish a negative experience upon them, since you were in their shoes at one point. And yet after everything, you couldn't find a reason to blame them for anything.

It wasn't their fault they were in the Devildom. It wasn't their fault they were more likable than you. And it wasn't their fault you were attacked.

It was particularly gloomy that day, and it was so windy you almost got swept away a couple times. But the brothers didn't care and you knew it. Your Purgatory Hall friends were all busy at clubs, and while they'd offered a quiet corner for you to do your work in so they could walk you home, you refused. You didn't want to bother then even though you knew they didn't mind.

You thought the walk home would've been uneventful, like it usually was. You were right, and you made it home safely, until you realized you'd left an important textbook in your locker. You made it successfully back to RAD, and were in front of your locker trying to open it when you were slammed from behind into it. You must've hit your head, because everything after that was hazy and you struggled to recall what happened, or who attacked you. The next thing you remembered was Simeon hovering over you, looking more distressed than you'd ever seen him.

The morning after, you woke up with a pounding headache you thought was due to your morning alarm. You'd reached over to turn it off, but before you could, Luke rushed in the room and began scolding you for trying to get up. As he talked at you, his words went in one ear and out the other. The other members of Purgatory Hall, as well as Barbatos entered the room at some point. They all looked strained or disturbed in a way. When you asked what had happened, Solomon was the one to break the news to you. You didn't know quite how to feel, but you knew at the very least that you were finally in good hands.

After this, the four of them sat in the room with you, and just chatted with you. It was nice to feel welcome in such a casual space again. At some point, you realized you weren't at home, and were instead at Purgatory Hall. That was when they revealed their plan to just not tell the brothers, and that you were more than welcome to live with your friends at Purgatory Hall instead. You felt a weak smile form on your face. It was good to be wanted again.

As time passed by, you grew physically better thanks to the attentive care of your new housemates, but the same couldn't be said emotionally. In the comfort of home, you felt safe, especially surrounded by your wonderful support system. At first, you couldn't even bring yourself to leave the house, and the first time you saw one of the brothers again was a major setback, but you did what you could. Those around you gave you all the time you needed to heal, and you let them know you were finally ready to try and take that next step again.

Barbatos and Diavolo had invited the residents of Purgatory Hall over for a nice little tea party, which you were proud to say you were now included in. They’d told you to get dressed up to spend a nice afternoon with them and enjoy yourself. It was something to look forward to, so the night before, you laid out an outfit. The next morning, you woke up feeling excited for once. Your new support system seemed determined to make this the best day possible, and despite asking them not to jump through hoops for you, they went to whatever lengths possible just to see you smile.

You felt possible the happiest you’d ever been since before Rn arrived when you got to the castle. All the little D’s welcomed you enthusiastically and ushered the four of you into the castle. Diavolo was already seated, but got up as soon as you walked into the room. He greeted you with a hug and soon, the five of you were happily talking. Barbatos joined you at some point, and knowing you would insist he relax, he sat down with the promise to get up if you needed anything.

It was supposed to be perfect.

You were enjoying your second cup of tea when there was a frantic knock at the door. It was distant, but you could all hear the panic behind it. Barbatos was the first to get up and he announced he would check it out. The five of you glanced around at each other, but continued as normal. A couple minutes went by, and a little D flew into the room and pleaded with Diavolo for help. This alarmed all of you, but Diavolo had you sit back down while he went to go assist Barbatos. Solomon and Simeon exchanged glances, but did as he asked.

You began to hear yelling, and the door Diavolo had just left through burst open. An awfully familiar pair of blue eyes locked onto you. "Mc!" Mammon called out. You froze, not sure how to react. Solomon stood up, pushing his chair back and letting it scrape against the ground.

Before anyone could speak, Diavolo pushed past Mammon and stood directly in front of him, arms crossed. "I didn't give you permission to enter my home." You'd never seen Diavolo more serious. Mammon was hidden from view now, thankfully, but that couldn't stop the sound of his voice reaching your ears.

"You lied to us. Mc is here." Mammon's tone was so sharp, it nearly cut the tension in the room.

"Why would you do that? We miss them." Levi sounded more angry than you'd ever heard him. The noise of his tails thrashing angrily about against the marble floors echoed through the hall.

"Oh really? You miss them, you say? Did you miss them when they were alone because of your actions? Did you miss them when they were bleeding out in the halls of RAD? Did you miss them in the months of recovery? You were so consumed with Rn that you failed to notice the absence of the very person that solved many of your problems and brought your family back together." Diavolo had shifted into his demon form in the middle of his rant. You could feel the waves of anger peeling off of him, and you knew sure as hell that the brothers could feel it too.

The room was filled with silence again. Solomon moved to stand next to the future king. "You should go now." His voice was soft, but firm.

"I'll see them out." Barbatos was behind the brothers somewhere. They left without much resistance after they got a glimpse at your face. During the entire interaction, you felt silent tears streaming down your face. Luke leant over and tried to offer you a handkerchief with his name embroidered on the corner. When you didn't move to take it, he dabbed the tears from your face for you and embraced you tightly.

"I'm sorry about them, Mc." Diavolo walked back over to you and stood behind you.

"It's alright." You hugged Luke back. Diavolo joined in, causing Solomon and Simeon to as well. "I have you guys, don't I?"

#obey me #obey me!#obey me x reader #oneshot #gn reader #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me! shall we date #obey me! shall we date?#obey me diavolo #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me barbatos

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inmaki2 · 1 year ago

Text

noctyx’s reaction to their s/o being a virgin

req . pairing : noctyx x f!reader .

smut mdni . est 1.6k wc .

warnings : unprotected (wrap b4 tap), pretty soft.. just virginity loss, size/bulge kink

i am so srry for how long this took but pls enjoy!!!!!

alban knox

thinking your boyfriend was as pure as you — perhaps even more so — you felt no shame in announcing that it’d be your first if the heated make out session at hand went any further

boy, were you wrong

as soon as you press a hand to alban’s bare chest, whispering how ‘you’ve never gone this far before’, he couldn’t stop the hungry groan that left his lips

being more on the subby side, alban was not expecting that he might have to take control for your first time together, but he wasn’t complaining

“are— are you serious? we can stop here if you want, no pressure.”

even if his cock is practically screaming for some attention, he’d never push you into something you aren’t ready for

but when you shake your head, mumbling that you want it while gazing up at him with such desperate eyes, poor boy almost cums in his pants

biting his lip, he watches you rub your thighs together impatiently. “okay, lets— lets get these off first, babe. is that alright?”

he.. isn’t the most confident dom but he’s trying! more service top than anything

once you’re bare in front of him, he spends a good five minutes just peppering you with kisses and feeling you up

he just wants to go all out in foreplay in fear of you not being fully comfortable yet, but with how long he takes you’re pretty much begging him to get a move on

“albannn.. please, just touch me..”

he grins, stomach flat on the bed as he sucks a mark into your thigh, “where do you want me, baby? here? or here?”

you gasp, feeling a single digit run up your folds, sinking inside for a moment before moving up to your clit

“geez.. you’re so fucking wet and i barely did anything.”

soon he’s massaging the bud with his thumb, a cat-like tongue pushing past your walls and releasing a strangled whimper from your lips

meanwhile, alban is doing everything in his power to not flip you onto fours and get to it because why do your moans sound so heavenly ?.??

luckily you’re just as needy by then, reaching down to pull on his brown locks pleadingly. “need you to put it in now, please. m’ ready, alban. i promise.”

and he thought he couldn’t get any harder …

this boy is soft down to the very last minute though, so he ends up holding your hand the entire time he pushes in, sucking your tits messily as a distraction

“alban.. hurts. s’too big.” he feels kinda bad for the way he gets impossibly more turned on by those words

“don’t worry, it’s gonna feel really good soon, i promise. just keep your eyes on me, princess.” you nod, glancing down to watch as his pesky fangs gnaw into his lip

he locks your legs tighter around his slim waist, thrusting extra slow at first to gauge your reaction

due to his lengthy foreplay you were fine, only a slight burn from his sheer size remaining

“shit shit— can i speed up, please? you’re squeezing me so tight..” soon you’re gonna need to grab the sheets because he is not slowing down once he starts

“look how well you take me, m’so proud.”

“this cunt was made f’me, right? say it please, please..”

alban is extremely vocal, whining every single time you clench around him, so a great method is kissing to shut the both of you up

he’s definitely not the best at self control, may end up cumming early because you just feel so good and warm :(

“‘m sorry, i couldn’t hold it, please cum for me baby.. i love you..” he’s so cute,, will overstimulate himself just to make sure you finish off too!

even by the end of it, if you’re wanting more he could probably go another few times knowing his stamina

but please be prepared for a very long cuddle session after,, no escaping cat boyfriend for a good hour at least

all in all a very easygoing experience; cum whenever you want, touch wherever you want (please scratch his back and pull his hair harder at that)

we love our soft switch cat boy

fulgur ovid

he just looks at you with such a surprised expression, feeling honoured to be the first one to touch what’s rightfully his

“no need to worry sweetheart, i’ll take care of you, alright?”

however, while fulgur would normally love initiating touches, he’ll leave it up to you to decide when you’re ready

and the night you come over to his desk and whisper how bad you want him, he’s already shutting his pc down

“kiss me, pretty girl.”

you don’t know what you expected, but it wasn’t that “c’mon, don’t be shy. if you can’t even give me a kiss, i dunno how i’m supposed to have you riding my cock later.”

with that, your lips meet his while fulgur pulls off your garments one by one, a small smirk rising on his face as he gently pushes you to his bed

“already look so gorgeous underneath me like this. can i touch you?”

fulgur is easily the slowest with foreplay out of all 3, probably giving you about two orgasms with just his fingers and tongue before even taking his pants off

however, it is quite reasonable considering how girthy and intimidating his length is, visible by pressing through the outline of his boxers

even so, you attempt to return the favor by going down on him too, quickly being stopped by fulgur’s hands cupping your cheeks

“another day, sweetheart. this is about you,” he declares, pressing a quick kiss to your lips

a gasp later escaping your mouth as he runs the tip up and down your entrance before circling your clit

he has you lying in mating press, his large hands press your thighs to your chest, bent in half rather embarassingly

that was the least of your concerns, though. “i don’t- fulgur, i don’t think that can fit..” you stammer, the leaking, angry tip practically glaring at you

he grabs your hand for support, making comforting eye contact once he gently pushes through. “i’ll make it fit, princess. try to relax for me, alright?”

rubs your clit extra quick to distract you from the stretch, bottoming out rather expertly before waiting for your signal to move

fulgur loves praising you for anything and everything, leaning down to press a quick kiss in your lips after you tell him you’re ready

“such a good girl, look how well you’re taking me. shit, so fuckin’ proud.”

fun fact if you can keep your eyes open through his thrusting, you’ll find out about his raging bulge kink

his eyes just keep going from your pretty face to the pretty outline of his dick in your lower stomach T-T

“can you feel me up in your tummy angel?” when you nod, he can’t help but smile proudly. “filled up so well, aren’t you? gonna cum just for me?”

“mhm.. faster, fulgur please.” “greedy girl..” he lets you get away with whatever you want just this once~

he’s also the best at holding off his orgasm, only allowing himself to release once you have

coaxes you through it the whole time, too. “that’s it, let go for me, darling. doing so fuckin’ well, taking this dick like a champ.”

that has you smiling as you finish, something only fulgur could make you do

once you’ve both recovered, your boyfriend will be quick to rush over and get a towel, cleaning you up extra carefully

aftercare king,, asks if everything was okay for you, if you want him to run a bath or something to eat

if not, he hops into bed with you, spooning you extra close

an ideal first experience fs, hopefully you don’t mind if he’s a bit less gentle next time riiight c:

sonny brisko

for once sonny was being bold; plain white tee thrown haphazardly off the bed as he hovers over your body with his own, a lustful haze shadowing his pupils

he was completely in the moment, all shyness washed away as he reaches down to pull your own shirt up

but as soon as you take hold of his wrist, he freezes, moving off you.

“sonny, it’s-“ “shit, i’m so sorry i- i thought you wanted to-“ “sonny!”

then you proceed to explain how you do in fact want him, just that you’d never experienced something like this before

but then he just

“oh, really? me too!” your eyes widen, watching a shy grin appear on his flushed face. “i was kinda just going with my gut, but i don’t really know what i’m doing..”

(don’t forget this man has a 80-90 rice purity after all)

knowing that your boyfriend had around the same amount of experience as you increased your confidence and comfort levels, evident in how swiftly you flipped over so that he was the one lying below you

“we can learn together, then.” pulling your top off, you watch as sonny’s eyes dart down to your breasts, purple eyes darkening as you move his hands up to fondle them

“they’re so soft..” he mumbles, completely entranced while you’re busy unzipping his trousers

you’ve always wondered how your cute, innocent boyfriend would react to such ecstatic pleasure, and you were ready to find out tonight

“can i suck you off?” it was strange hearing such vulgar things from your pretty lips T-T

“uh,” his cheeks redden, nodding sheepishly, “if you want to i’d- i’d like that.”

let’s just say getting head might be one of his new favourite pastimes

.. the sound of you choking and struggling to take him due to his size makes him more than a little turned on

knowing it was your first time giving head, he tried extra hard not to buck his hips up: letting you decide your own pace with a pale hand tangled in your hair

“mmph, fuck! suck a lil’ harder, baby.. so good..”

like fulgur, sonny has decent self control and quickly pulls you off when he feels his orgasm approaching

“gotta save my cum for when i’m inside you, right?” then he sends you the most innocent smile.. :sigh:

he also has surprisingly delicate yet long fingers, which he puts to good use in foreplay (he even managed to pull an orgasm out of you in record time.. he was proud but maintained a cool demeanour)

though he wanted to return the favor of head originally.. you both found yourself getting desperate for more

soon enough you’re straddling him, thighs propped on either side of his with your middle hovering just over his

the position was sonny’s idea, claiming that riding him gave you the option to control your own pace

but even with him fingering you, it was a slight challenge

“shit, why’re you so big?” while other men might get happy by such a question, sonny blushes furiously

“sorry..” he replies, “you’re doing great babe. take your time,” he reaches a hand down to massage your clit, the other caressing your side softly

once he’s completely bottomed out and you start moving, he showers you in praising kisses, whispering how well you’re doing in your ear

“fuuuck, so tight and warm..” his eyes are half closed, sweat sticking to his bangs as the sound of skin slapping fills the room

he fills you up perfectly, but the burning in your thighs only worsened after a while, forcing your pace to slow down

“need help, baby?”

he barely waits for you reply, already snapping his hips up and sending waves of pleasure through you

since it’s his first time as well, he may orgasm early.. but your boyfriend is determined to ensure you do too and will handle the overstimulation (semi) easily!

the blonde watches as your eyes roll back from pleasure, and this time he can’t help but proudly chuckle, “that face says you’re already a slut for my dick. must be close, huh?”

his moans almost overtake yours, nails digging into your hips painfully, “c’mon, cum for me y/n. say my name too.. fuck—“

he lets go as soon as you do ‘cause truth be told, poor boy was struggling extra hard to not cum before you again..

but then as your basking in the afterglow he proceeds to collect his release off your stomach, then lick it right from his finger

“sonny, what the fuck?” “i was curious!”

he’ll probably ask what you need for aftercare, definitely after carrying you bridal style to the bathroom to pee

and maybe round two in the shower??? :nervous sonny smile:

if u enjoyed, reblogs + comments r appreciated!

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moonferry · 6 months ago

Text

yk when u want a specific type of content but it like doesn't exist so u have to make it urself..

anyway have some bachelors x masc farmer ideas/headcanons/rambles. idk i just say words. long post so strap in, folks! honestly these could be considered gn if u squint bc i don't really use masc pronouns in the writing, however there are mentions of masc labels (boyfriend, husband)

mentions of internalized homophobia + depression

i may do bachelorettes x fem farmer next so stay tuned :3

harvey:

- wears his boyfriend's/husband's shirts. literally no exceptions. if you wore it, he is going to wear it too. you left a shirt at his place? oh. it's his now. and he's going to be smiling the entire time he wears it. this being said, i think he'd totally be like T____T it doesn't smell like you anymore and ask for a different one.

- loves to compliment your appearance or just you in general (in my play through he literally says "you look so handsome. did you shave?" like 3 times a week)

- personally, i see harvey as being bisexual + super open about it. like everyone in town supports him & they're so ecstatic for him when they see he has a boyfriend.

- if you have yet to ask him out, though, and he's realizing his feelings i think it would be very hard for him to hide them. someone could be asking him something and you walk into the clinic? his entire train of thought is GONE. i'm talking they have to wave their hand in front of his face to get his attention back.

- don't even get me STARTED on if you propose. he'd literally walk into the clinic, slam his coffee on the reception desk and be like, "MARU, LOOK." pretty sure he fainted and maru had to fan him back to consciousness.

elliott:

- despite elliott's openness with his own sexuality, i think he was terrified of your rejection. not too terrified obviously because something something inspiration from painful experiences yada yada. if you ended up not being interested in him, he probably would've gotten over it - but don't be surprised if you notice some strange subtext in his writing. he's a romantic writer - if he has feelings, they're going to get written down. sorry folks.

- but * yay * you didn't reject him, so elliott is still inspired. maybe you even become the next love interest in his newest novel? who knows.

- in his 14 heart event, he writes a series of letters to you because he has to leave pelican town for a week. i absolutely loved this idea and i think elliott would do this even if he was in the town. they could be something as mundane as what he did that day/week and he just. put it in the mailbox. you still enjoy reading them, though.

- i think he absolutely loves using "my" like "my man", "my husband" "my beloved" just anything, really. he loves you so much - and he knows he doesn't own you, obviously, he's just so glad he is lucky enough to call you his.

alex:

- i think alex was TERRIFIED of falling in love with you. in his 10 heart event, he mentions telling himself that he shouldn't experience these feelings for another man. every act of kindness you showed him ate away at his heart and it drove him crazy.

- i think he experienced a little internal homophobia before finally realizing that it was okay. it doesn't help that george is so adamant about him finding a girlfriend (and that george has a little homophobic arc 🥲). alex probably internalized these ideas and pushed himself into his gridball/weightlifting obsession to quiet his mind.

- after he finally worked up the courage to tell you how he felt - and was entirely relieved when you felt the same way - it was as if a weight removed itself from his chest. he could finally breathe again. the world seemed different - in a good way. colors were more vivid, sounds were more pleasing to hear, the earth felt solid underneath his feel for once. he wasn't afraid of anything, especially not with you beside him.

- now, he proudly walks around the town with your hand in his, smiling to himself.

- sometimes those thoughts start to seep back in, though. like when he's about to sleep at night and his brain just can't shut up. he starts to hate himself again, and then he feels you press against him or hears you mutter in your sleep and his heart softens.

- also he got george and evelyn shirts that say "i love my gay grandson" they wear them proudly.

shane:

- surprised that anyone took a romantic interest in him, not surprised by the fact that you're a guy.

- i don't think shane has a "preference" for dating someone, he goes based off of vibes + personality rather than gender or appearance. he also doesn't label himself or his sexuality/romantic attraction.

- he's definitely a shirt lender. like you see a nice jacket in his closet and you're like "hey, hun, can i borrow this?" "sure."

- thinks you look amazing in his clothes. probably puts the best ones on hangers (or at the top of the clothing pile) in hopes that you'd choose them.

- even if he doesn't show it outwardly, he's super afraid of losing you. because of his mental illness, he can't help but think that every good thing he has will be taken away from him or that he "doesn't deserve" them. (he does, and you often remind him of this if he gets too into his head).

- i picture him reaching over and placing a hand on your arm in the middle of the night JUST to make sure you were still there and not the universe playing a cruel joke on him.

- can cook, but he's so used to making frozen dinners that he often forgets to.

- if you're taller than him, forehead kisses are a MUST. he will not let you leave the farmhouse until he receives his daily forehead kiss.

- i think he loves being the little spoon. it just makes him feel safer, more grounded in a way. he's been at the point where it feels like nothing is permanent and it can all end in the blink of an eye, so being spooned helps him realize that it isn't all that bad and that it will be okay, given the right time and effort.

- shane definitely falls asleep on his husband's chest like.. once a week.

- because mental illness is a constant battle, i imagine shane still gets "bad days". but don't worry! his loving husband is here to help. shane's depressive episodes usually consist of lying in bed (often for days at a time) and it's extremely hard for him to do anything. but the farmer is used to this - he's definitely read up on mental health books and how to support someone with depression. the farmer never tries to force shane out of bed or tells him that he needs to "get over it". the farmer often checks on him in between their farm duties. i imagine when the farmer is completely finished, they sits down on the edge of the bed and play with shane's hair or rubs their hand up and down his back:

"hey shane, are you okay?"

"i will be."

"i love you, chickadee."

"i know."

"do you want some ice cream?"

"yes, please."

sam:

- by far, the most "affectionate"? in a way.

- sammy loves pda im sorry. if you two are walking along, he has to be touching you in some way - whether it's holding your hand. your arm looped through his own, your hand in his hoodie pocket, etc. he just needs physical contact. i also think he'd look at you with big, wet eyes and wait until you kiss him.

- he takes you to band practice !!! seb and abby don't really mind, and you even offer some input on how they should approach their next song.

- absolute golden retriever boyfriend. can and will curl up on your lap and cuddle against you (even if he's ridiculously tall and lanky).

- if and when you attend all his shows/concerts, he definitely pulls you on stage once the set it over and kisses you publicly - sebastian and abigail just roll their eyes (this happens every single time. they're used to it).

- probably has your name written on his guitar.

- i think kent and jodi would be some of the most supportive people ever - they're just happy their son found someone to be with, regardless of gender.

- i think kent would probably sit you down and give you "the talk" about *grumble grumble* if you break my son's heart *grumble grumble*. not that you would, obviously, you adore sam. but kent's words do put the fear of god in you - this is the man who sends you bombs in the mail as a "friendly gesture"

- don't let that fool you, though, kent will be an absolute waterfall if you and sam get married. i also think he'd be more of a "ask for his blessing" before proposing kind of guy, but he'd give it willingly.

- sam loves it when you run a hand through his hair (if he had a tail, it would be wagging).

- sam puppyboy au? thinking thoughts...

sebastian:

- i think the only one surprised that seb has a boyfriend is seb himself. he always pictured himself a "loner for life" and DEFINITELY didn't expect to fall in love with this weird farm boy.

- he probably spends more time at the farm house/wherever you two hang out than his own home. but who could blame him?

- he was so confused about his feelings that he ended up talking to maru for help (crazy, right?) the two of them built a pillow fort near maru's telescope and spent hours talking. it was quiet nice. this helped him realize two things: 1) maybe his sister wasn't all that bad and 2) he was DEFINITELY in love with another man. he didn't know which was more confusing.

- i think sebastian likely confessed first in a sort of "nonchalant" way. i think the conversation went like this:

farmer,teasing: "oooh, you wanna kiss me sooo bad it makes you look stupid."

seb: "yeah, i do."

neither of you were prepared for that. i think he would ease the tension by just. ignoring what he just said.

- i think he smiles like a frog . a sort of :} if you will. like bulbasaur.

- speaking of bulbasaur, that is definitely his favorite pokémon. oh and froakie. he just like the little frog dudes. would love you forever if you won him a plushie from the claw machine.

- it's no secret that seb often thinks no one would notice if he left, but getting closer to you made him realize that.. someone would. and maybe that's enough.

- if he stays up late working on a project, just walk over to his desk and wrap him into a back hug. bonus points if you voice is gravelly from sleep. "let's go to bed, sebby." he'd melt. like full on puddle on the ground.

- because sebastian is like 5'6 you'd think he enjoys being the small spoon. WRONG!!! he is a big spoon exclusively. you don't mind, though.

- he would die if you played with his hands while cuddling. please give this boy some physical affection. he deserves it.

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