#his little fucking EARS ARE SO SOMFT

[10-dutchies-12-bicycles]

dogs are THE SOFTEST

do yoU KNOW HOW SOFT DOGS ARE@??@?!!?

THEY ARE SO SOFT

[pugwitharug]

MC Petting The Ilephtas, Part One: The Fluffies

I miss having something soft and warm to pet, so I'm making this to compensate. And I also need to separate this post or else I'm never gonna finish this

GN Reader, I debated putting Anisa on here since she's half-Ilephta but I'm not sure if she would get the reaction I'm going for lol, you're dating them in the different scenarios because yes, I miss them and I want them to come home from the war, they gonna be somft......because I said so

🐱Sage Lesath🐱

He's a big physical touch guy, we all know that. He's constantly rubbing himself against you, scent marking you, smelling your own unique and lovely scent, seeing how red you can get when he inconspicuously squeezes your ass lol

And we know it's canon he likes getting his ears rubbed so

*grabby hands* gib me kibby ears

You know that special way he likes it, cupping his ears in your hands while your fingers rub against the thin skin, feeling the heat of his blood rushing through as you massage them. His eyes flutter closed and he lets out a long purr as you sit in his lap, his hands cradling your hips

He especially loves it after long days of hunting down bounties and hitting the taverns and whatnot

I think.......if you pet him before he goes to sleep he'll sleep better and I don't think this poor man has a good sleep schedule

KISS 👏 THE 👏 TOP 👏 OF 👏 HE 👏 HEAD 👏

Mess around with his hair! It helps him calm down! Just don't hit a tangle or he'll bite you. Nom nom

Do you think Ilephta hair is sort of a different quality than normal human hair? Like, I don't know, is it softer than human hair naturally? I'm gonna say yes because I can

You joke that you'd sleep better if you had a pillow stuffed with Sage's hair. He laughs but you notice him trying to push his braid behind his back

Normally touching his tail is a sign of smexy times for him but when he turns around with a smirk and wiggling eyebrows and he sees you innocently twirling around his tail fur he feels guilty

Overall 9/10, wonderful petting experience until he bites you

🐯Lucan de Bhaldraithe 🐯

I looked it up specifically for this and tigers can't purr, but you know if he could he'd be like a fucking lawnmower

He likes it best when you massage his scalp! After a long day he plops his head in your lap and you work your magic fingers on him and he's in heaven

His ears are so fluffy omg. I think they're a little less sensitive than Sage's so you can mess around with them a little more

Run your fingers through his hair...........please 🥺

His hair is so soft, it's a little sad he doesn't have long hair cuz you would have a free blanket

Also please rub his back. I headcanon he has back pain from carrying those fat badonkadonks because the human spine is an architectural nightmare so give him a massage. Rub his back as he tells you about his day. His tail will wag happily

Speaking of his tail he's constantly having it touch you. Wrapped around your leg, your waist, your wrist, your arm, even just letting the fluffy bit tickle your back

Actually I don't think tigers have a fluffy bit on their tail but...I don't care he's gonna be a fluffy boi

His hair is like, a little more smooth than soft if you rub it in the right direction. Like velvet, with a little more poof. I read that a tiger's fur gets more coarse as they get older but Lucan isn't that old

He be just..........babie

🗡️Elowen de Bhaldraithe🗡️

Look, she has a reputation to uphold. If you're out in public and you try to pet her, she will put on her unbreakable poker face

But at home? Hoo boy

Is she a mountain lion? I don't know but I'm saying yes because they can purr and I think that's adorable

She doesn't have as loud of a purr as Sage does, but it's nice and soft. Good to listen to as you fall asleep

BRAID HER HAIR! It reminds her of Lucan when they were young, when he would always mess with her hair as he tells her about every single little detail of his day. It's useful for work too :3

Her tail........it looks soft and sleek, and it is, but it's also pretty strong. Not prehensile, but she can pick up certain items that might seem too heavy

She likes shoulder rubs! It's canon now! Massage her shoulders after a long day and she'll melt into you

She's not a big snuggler but if you're having a bad day she'll offer her head for you to pet and mess with

I also think she tends to bite if you snag your fingers or your comb on a tangle, or growl at you at least but she doesn't really mean it

Or does she.........?

I love her, my wifey. I'm married to (almost) everyone in LL lol

🐇Tulsi Ain🐇

She knows people want to pet her, but when she was younger she probably had some experiences with people petting her, then swiping something of hers while she was distracted, so she might not always be up to being pet

But she'll make a special exception for you. She trusts you :3

The fur on her ears isn't super long but it can get tangled sometimes. Gently comb her hair after she wakes up. She likes it, but she might fall back asleep lol

Does she have a little bunny tail? I hope she has a bunny tail. Little wiggle wiggle

She gets embarrassed if you pat it. But please do. Do us all a service

ALSO👏 KISS👏 THE👏 TOP👏 OF👏 SHE👏 HEAD👏

I think she prefers full body cuddles as opposed to rubs on individual parts, but she won't complain if you decide to do that

But her hands.........hold them........kiss them..........cherish them................

Bumby wife🥺

[dapandapod]

A great excuse

Yes, hello ! Welcome to my excuse for kisses at bare shoulders, because i am the somft panda once again. Thank you darlin Kuri for doing the beta, where would i be without you? Please enjoy!

On Ao3

Getting ambushed in the bath is the lowest of low.

  Djikstra had invited them into his bath house after a mission accomplished, only to have the witch hunters run a raid after some nutjob preached one thing or another, who the fuck even knows these days.

Point is, the bath house was being raided just as Jaskier and Geralt were stripping down. Undignified.

If Jaskier wasn't so keen on staying hidden, he would sniff loudly to show his contempt.

Somewhere a bit further into the building, he can hear women shrieking and men yelping as they are being ripped out of the steaming waters in all of their nude glories. At least they didn't make it into the water. At least Geralt has time to back them both into a hidden alcove, pressing as close to the cold wall as they possibly could.

Ever the hero, Geralt shields Jaskier from the terrible, terrible wall with its terribly, terribly cold tiles. But the space is incredibly narrow, so their bodies press close together, their bare chests closer than they had ever been while awake.

Geralt's arms are around his waist, Jaskier's arms are pressing against Geralt's sides. The air is warm and humid, but the witcher's skin is hot against his. 

Every inhale and exhale has their skin move against each other. Jaskier barely dares to breathe; the way they are pressed together right now makes his breath hit the nape of Geralt's neck.

It is oh so very intimate, and Jaskier's mind is reeling. The witch hunters are the only thing that is keeping him grounded, however that is possible. He can absolutely blame his racing heart on that, and if asked, he will.

They stand close together for a long time, Geralt's hand a solid weight against his lower back, and eventually he can't help but to relax into the hold. It's exhausting to stand stiff as a board, he tells himself. Not worth it.

He lets his head dip forward to rest against Geralt's shoulder. Had the circumstances been different, he would have let his hands wander, dragged his lips and nose across the exposed skin.

Well.

In his heart, his mind, he does. Always.

But this is real life, this is Geralt, and that is not who they are. But as he sighs, relaxing just a little bit more, Geral's hands slide against his back. Changes his grip.

It didn't feel like a hug before, but now, as Geralt adjusts, it fucking does. Holy hells and all the Mothers. Melitele help his racing heart.

The clamor slowly dies down as the Witch hunters either find what they came for, or simply give up. Some loud complaining can still be heard, and heavy boots echo still beyond the changing rooms' doors.

The noise outside is nothing compared to the noise in Jaskier's mind, as he begs every holy entity he can think of, and some unholy ones to boot.

"Are they leaving?" Jaskier whispers, realizing too late that the proximity has his lips touching Geralt's bare skin.

The witcher tenses; were they not pressed so closely together, were it not Geralt but a stranger, Jaskier likely wouldn't have noticed. But it is Geralt, and they are so closely pressed together, and Jaskier needs help.

"Some of them are," Geralt whispers back. It is only the need to be quiet that makes him bend down and press his mouth to Jaskier's ear, Jaskier tells himself. "We need to be quiet."

Jaskier sucks in a ragged breath, closing his eyes. His lashes catch against Geralt's shoulder, as everything on his body fucking does. Up until now, his hands have been closed into fists. Dare he open them? Dare he rest his palms over scarred ribs, feel them expand under his fingers?

Slowly, ever so slowly, he dares. He changes his stance, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, slipping closer. It's as good an excuse as any, as he braves it, as he presses his palm against Geralt's ribs, as his lips press into his shoulder.

It isn't a kiss. It is just his mouth pressing into where he is hiding, it is merely Jaskier keeping himself from making other sounds. That's it. Geralt's lips are still pressed against his ear. His hands are still pressed against his back.

"What are you doing?" he whispers, barely a sound. But he doesn't shift them, doesn't break Jaskier's grip.

That is Jaskier's problem, and what a problem it turned out to be. When he leans back, the sound his lips make as they part from the skin sounds like a kiss.

"Hiding," he whispers back, embarrassment flushing him head to toe.

A door slams in the distance, and then another one. The witch hunters are gone, and so is Jaskier's excuse for staying close. He doesn't back up and Geralt doesn't push him away. Not yet.

For a little longer, they are close. For a little longer, they pretend they don't need an excuse.

When things finally change, it is not a parting. It isn't pushing away, no distance being put between bodies. Again, Geralt shifts, one arm properly wrapping around Jaskier's waist, one hand coming up to caress the back of his neck. Ever so slowly, Jaskier dares raise his head, and as he does, Geralt's lips move to his cheek bone.

"Did you kiss my shoulder, Jaskier?" Geralt asks in a murmur and Jaskier can't fight off a shiver.

"You told me to be quiet," Jaskier whispers, and he has used up all his bravery. He can't move, can't do anything but wait for judgment to come.

"So you kissed me?"

"I didn't."

He didn't. He was hiding, that's all.

They stand in tense silence for a few seconds, until it seems Geralt has made up his mind.

"You can."

"I can what?"

"Kiss me."

Jaskier can't breathe. Can't do anything but hear his own heart beating furiously, his mind racing.

Leaning down again, more like tilting his head really, he presses... another kiss into Geralt's skin. When he isn't stopped, he does it again. His fingers curl against Geralt's sides, and he dares, he lets himself press gentle kisses over his collarbone and the nape of his neck. Soft, barely there kisses.

Until Geralt's hand shifts again, tilting his head up, turning him into a pressing of lips.

Soft, gentle, barely there.

His heart stops and starts again. His chest explodes with a million fireworks. His skin tingles with sensations so familiar but so achingly new.

Their lips part and realign. The world has gone around them, cold tiles forgotten, Witcher hunters ignored. The only thing that exists is lips pressed against lips. As the world rights itself, Jaskier pieces himself back together, trading kiss after kiss.

When his lips are sore, slick with spit and swollen red from little nips, Jaskier has to pull back. Instead, he touches their foreheads together, his hands resting against Geralt's chest, over his heart.

"Did you kiss me on the lips, Geralt?"

"You said that is how you keep quiet."

There is not a quiet cell in Jaskier's body, but he can't stop smiling, can't keep from nudging their noses together.

"Silly witcher," he whispers, touching a gentle finger to Geralt's lower lip.

"Silly bard," Geralt counters.

When they finally make their way into the actual bath house, it is mostly deserted. The few remaining customers that were not put out by rude people in armor are soaking in the various pools.

Jaskier and his witcher find one of the more secluded ones. Under the water, their legs tangle while above it, their shoulders bump.

"You know, despite the armed idiots, I think this is the best bath we have had in a while," Jaskier muses, his head resting back against the tiled edge of the pool.

"You are going to write a song about it, aren't you?" Geralt says, their hands finding each other, holding on to each other.

"I might." Jaskier smiles, his eyes closing.

But in his heart, it's already a poem. A poem he has written long ago, words and rhymes that were never meant to be heard. They might be heard now. Another time, another place.

Maybe when they crawl into bed tonight, as sleep claims them. Maybe he will press them into Geralt's shoulder, maybe he will whisper it into his skin. Maybe then, he'll let Geralt know.

For now, he will enjoy his witcher's company. For now, he will compose silly limericks and filthy jokes, as their fingers interlace under the water and his witcher's smile lights up the room.

[all-hail-the-witcher]

rest well my songbird

its @softdarlingjaskier‘s birthday!!! and i have some soft eskier for him!!! a little birdie kings of the bog told me that you like jaskier getting his hands massaged so...without further ado...

__

ship: eskier :) (eskel x jaskier)

warnings: jaskier overworks his hands and eskel takes care of them. lamberts an ass for 1 second in true lambert fashion

words: 1.6k

editing: ye

genre: somfte

__

Jaskier flexed his hands and winced as he put down his lute. Winters offered him more down time than on the road, so he could spend the winter months composing to his heart's content, working on the longer ballads that he often neglected while tagging along on the Path.

The only problem with composing and songwriting non stop was that it made his hands ache terribly.

Between plucking at his lute and gripping his quill, his hands would usually start to protest a month or so into winter. But, as all good songwriters did, he pushed through the pain, willing to continue composing no matter what. He had a reputation to uphold and Witchers to help, after all. He couldn't afford to slack off.

Eskel did not share his views.

Well, neither did Vesemir, Geralt, Lambert and Aiden, but Eskel was the most vocal about it, often plucking the quill or lute from his hands after so many hours and demanding that he rest. Right when he was in the middle of a good line too! Jaskier had lost so many good ideas to Eskel’s forced breaks.

This was the first time though that he had chosen to take a break on his own that winter, and Eskel was on him in a second.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern flowing off of him in waves as he approached Jaskier, who had been sitting the farthest away from the fire. It wasn’t his fault that the fire would dry out his lute!

“Fine,” Jaskier muttered as he struggled to close his bottle of ink. He didn't want Eskel to worry, but he realized perhaps a second too late that Eskel could probably smell the pain coming off of him.

“That’s not true,” Eskel said, seeing through the lie immediately. “Usually I have to force you to take a break.”

He didn't say anything else and Jaskier sighed. Eskel was waiting for him to admit that he was in pain, despite the fact that he already knew.

“My hands,” he whispered, forgetting that he was in a room full of Witchers with enhanced hearing. “They’re stiff, and sore, and cramped. More than usual.” He looked up at a blurry Eskel and it took him a moment to realize that he had been almost crying.

“Yeah no shit they hurt!” Lambert shouted from the couch. “If you keep fucking playing with that damn lute of yours theyre gonna fuckin fall off!”

“Lambert,” Aiden said sternly. “Shut up.”

Jaskier laughed and tried to wipe away his tears with his hands, but winced when his fingers cramped up.

Eskel brushed his hands away and gently wiped away Jaskier’s tears with his thumbs, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“You need to not push yourself so hard, Jaskier,” he whispered, pulling Jaskier’s face against his chest. “You don’t need to spend every single waking second of the winter composing. Winters are supposed to be for relaxing, and you haven't been doing much of that.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier muttered into Eskel’s shirt. He longed to bring his hands up to hug Eskel and reassure him that this was fine, it just happened every so often, but his hands hurt too much. He didn't want them to cramp so hard that they ended up stuck in one position. That was never pleasant.

“No,” Eskel said firmly. “Don’t apologize.”

He tugged Jaskier closer to him, resting his chin on top of his head so that Jaskier was engulfed in the arms of his Witcher. Jaskier inhaled Eskel’s scent deeply. He smelled like he always did in the winters: of wood and musk, chamomile and fresh bread. It was Jaskier’s favorite smell in the world. It meant that his love was well rested and taken care of, healthy for once after a long year on the Path.

Eskel pulled away after a moment and tugged at Jaskier’s upper arm, encouraging him to stand.

“Come here,” he said, his eyes bright with what could only be an idea. And who was Jaskier to say no to him?

He followed Eskel over to the nest of furs that they kept in front of the fire, for puppy piles usually. Eskel directed him to sit down in the nest and then with a stern look not to move, he darted out of the room.  

“What the hell is that sneaky fucker- mmph” Lambert’s insult was cut off by Aiden kissing him on the mouth, likely to get him to shut up.

Geralt sighed and turned a page in his book, but Vesemir, who was sitting on the other side of the fire knitting, regarded them with a fond look before turning to Jaskier.

“I have a salve that you could put on your hands, it’ll help with the cramping,” he said.

“Oh! That’s very kind but-”

Jaskier was cut off by Eskel running back into the room.

“I already got it, Vesemir,” Eskel said, walking back to the nest.

Vesemir smiled knowingly and went back to his knitting.

“C’mere Jaskier,” Eskel said, sitting behind him and tugging one of the furs across Jaskier’s lap. He carefully rolled up the sleeves of Jaskier’s chemise before opening the little tub of salve. “Lean back, relax, you don't have to do any more composing today, or tomorrow, or this whole week. I’m going to take care of you.”

Jaskier was glad that his back was to Eskel because he could feel his cheeks flushing.

Eskel picked up Jaskier’s right hand delicately in his much larger, sword calloused ones. “Let me know if I’m hurting you at any point, okay?”

Jaskier nodded and watched, mesmerized, as Eskel began to rub out the cramps in his hand. He started with his fingers, beginning with his pinky finger, and rubbing out the tensions in each of the joints. It was almost painful at first, but Jaskier soon adjusted to it and found himself craving more.

Once Eskel had worked his way slowly through Jaskier’s fingers, he moved to his palm, taking it in both of his hands and massaging it slowly in small, but firm circles. Jaskier couldn't help the sigh of pleasure that escaped his lips.

“Yes, that’s it,” Eskel murmured. “Just relax, I’ve got you.”

Jaskier let his head drop back against Eskel’s shoulder as he looked out at the room. Lambert and Aiden were bickering over a game of Gwent, passing a bottle of White Gul back and forth between them. Geralt was pretending to read, but every so often his eyes would flick up to the game and he’d mutter sometimes useful hints to Lambert and Aiden.

Jaskier watched them fondly as Eskel moved to his wrist, giving the tendons there extra attention. From there he moved up Jaskier’s forearm to his elbow, massaging his skin carefully.

Jaskier flexed his hand experimentally and was surprised when he discovered that he had definitely more movement than before. But Eskel covered his hand scoldingly.

“No,” he said. “Don't go undoing all of my hard work.”

“Sorry,” Jaskier murmured. “It just felt so nice and-”

“I’m not done yet,” Eskel said, cutting Jaskier off as he dipped his fingers into the salve.

Eskel warmed the salve first in his hands before rubbing it against Jaskier’s skin. And Meliele’s sweet tits, if the massage had been heavenly, this was absolutely divine. Vesemir had been right, the salve was positively wonderful, seemingly wonderful, drawing out the pain from his hands almost instantly. Jaskier couldn't help the sigh that escaped his lips.

Eskel laughed lightly, rubbing the salve all over Jaskier’s hands and wrists, even going up his arm a little, before reaching for a few small straight planks of wood and a roll of bandages that he must have grabbed while he was getting the salve.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Jaskier protested. “Just what are you doing with that?”

“You don't want the salve getting everywhere,” Eskel explained. “So it’s best to put the bandage on until it soaks into your skin. And the splint will help keep your hands from cramping and getting stuck in an uncomfortable position while they’re bandaged.”

“But what is a musician without his hands!”

“A resting, healing one,” Eskel said, pressing a light kiss to Jaskier’s nose. “I’ll help you with everything, my songbird. I’m here to take care of you.”

Jaskier pouted but held his hand out to Eskel to bandage. “You better mean that.”

“Of course I do,” Eskel said, wrapping Jaskier’s hand and wrist in bandages first before placing the wood underneath it and arranging his fingers over it before wrapping it in even more bandages. The end result was a bit clunky looking and Jaskier wasn’t crazy about the fact that he wasn't going to be able to use his hands at all, but Eskel had promised that he would take care of him and Jaksier knew that he would deliver.

“See?” Eskel said, placing a kiss to the back of Jaskier’s bandaged hand. “All better.”

Jaskier smiled at his lover's efforts before leaning back against Eskel’s soft chest as he got started on his other hand. He watched his careful ministrations through half lidded eyes before the heat from the fire and the warmth from the furs lulled him into a half asleep state. The only thing keeping him awake was Eskel’s gentle massaging of his hand.

But eventually, Eskel finished, tying off the bandage with another kiss before wrapping his arms around Jaskier.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yes,” Jaskier muttered truthfully. He was tired, but at least his hands didn't ache so fiercely anymore.

Eskel pressed another kiss to his hair and laid back, tugging Jaskier until he was resting his head on his chest, and wrapped a fur around the two of them.

“I’ll wake you in a few hours to take the bandages off,” Eskel murmured into his ear. “But until then, rest well my songbird.”

And Jaskier did. He fell asleep to the gentle roar of the crackling fire, to Lambert and Aiden’s drunken bickering, and to Eskel’s steady heartbeat under his ear.

__

happyyyestttt of birthdayssss to peterrrrrr

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[slashersins]

Hii! I love your writing so much 🥰 I was wondering if you could write something for Brahms Mikey Jesse & Thomas (and maybe poly!ghostface if you feel like?) when their pacifist soft s/o who they never kill in front of kisses their hands after they kill to protect her? I need some fluff in my life . Thank you!!

mmmm somft reader with their murder men in a somft moment ! ! ! 

Hii! I love your writing so much 🥰 I was wondering if you could write something for Brahms Mikey Jesse & Thomas (and maybe poly!ghostface if you feel like?) when their pacifist soft s/o who they never kill in front of kisses their hands after they kill to protect her? I need some fluff in my life . Thank you!!

brahms

you knew brahms was a complicated man . prone to kindness , clinging to you constantly , begging for attention . prone to tantrums , destroying everything in his path , making the walls shake with his fury . prone to love , petting your hair , your face , whispering desperate words of affection . you never wanted to admit it , unable to think too long about how brahms was also very prone to violence . you were lucky , you’d heard of what happened in the heelshire manner before moving in . about a man being slaughtered , a nanny attacked and chased around like cat and mouse with the cat having an unfair advantage . you knew there were murders reported when people broke in . you knew brahms was capable . but you wer lucky . you never experienced it first hand . 

the man must have been drunk . must have thought no one lived in the house despite the fact you put effort into making it look lived in . he must have been confused . that’s what you wanted to think when you heard the kitchen door be busted in . you made a mistake of not running to hide . no , you went to see what happened . it seemed you were just as unexpected as the intruder was , because he paused before taking after you like a bat out of hell , yelling and waving a wrench in his hand . you’d screamed , and brahms had nearly fallen as he clamored through the walls to seek you out . 

brahms wasted no time in coming out of the walls , taking in the scene of some grimy intruder about to bring a wrench down on your prone form . he saw red . chest heaving and blood thundering in his ears as he ripped the wrench out of the man’s hands and used it to beat against the man’s skull . the intruder tried to put up a fight , he even tried reaching out to you for help , but you were too wide eyed , watching as brahms violently ended this man’s life for breaking into his home , for hurting his significant other . there was no mercy . and when brahms was sure that the man had breathed his last , he looked to you . and you saw no remorse in his eyes for the kill . 

the adrenaline coursing through him had him forgetting your distaste for gore and violence . he just needed to know you were okay . he thought you might flinch , might cry . but instead you took his outstretched hands and bought them to your face . kissing over his knuckles as tears finally fell . brahms pulled you into a tight embrace , hushing you as you spilled out your thank yous , i love yous , i was so scared . he’d dispose of the mess later . right now you needed him . and he needed you . 

michael

michael has never killed in front of you . there’s never been a reason to . you’re always at home , at work , at school , somewhere he isn’t when he’s destroying and ending lives . the most you see is a bloody knife in your kitchen and filthy clothes in the hamper . you don’t like it , hating to think about those who lost their life to michael’s blood lust . you know you’re lucky to have never seen it . to only deal with the smallest of traces of the destruction he leaves . 

it’s a nice evening for a walk . work was running late , and so you stayed extra . and after such a long shift , you were excited to get home and hopefully find michael sitting on the couch . maybe he’d tolerate you leaning on him as you forget the stresses of the day . you don’t notice you’re being followed . maybe it’s due to you being lost in your own little world . maybe it’s due to the fact you’ve gotten used to the feeling of being watched by micahel that it just slips your mind completely . but you do feel the head of a gun shove into your back as a hand wraps around your mouth . 

there’s a demand that you give up your money or else . the gun digging in your back painfully as gloved hands squeeze your jaw hard . another demand , a near desperate shout for your any and everything in your bag . and then you feel the man press against you , a weak strained noise leaving him , something thick and warm dripping down the back of your neck and over your shoulders . the weight of the man get’s heavy , and then he falls to the side , gargling on his own blood , twitching and wide eyed as he stairs at the sky .

you turn so fast you almost fall , taking a few steps back only to meet michael’s gaze . a kitchen knife in his hand , wet and dripping crimson . he watches you for a moment . daring you to run . and you do , but not away from him , to him . he lets you wrap your arms around him chest , sobbing as you cling to him . michael allows the contact until you even your breathing . you want to stay and cling to him , fingers in a white knuckle grip on his jumpsuit . you just saw him kill and yet you still stay . because you love him . because despite everything , you know at least some small part of him might love you to . 

jesse

he has enemies . he knows this . he’s rich and powerful and a murderer . he’s bound to have a few outside forces trying to come down on him . jesse had never thought , however , that this enemy would come from within . preston was a wanna be . he’d been trying to frame himself as the new , better chromeskull . he’d been added to jesse’s shit list the moment the man found out , making the other rush off into hiding and prepare for the inevitable . and preston . . . preston thought he was smart . thought he could make jesse suffer . he thought he could take you away from him . preston had never been so wrong . 

he’d taken you . taken you with threats to torture you . the fury inside of jesse was untamed . preston thought he was so smart , but jesse was smarter . he found the little hide away without any difficulty . always sloppy and so easy to track . preston was pathetic . and jesse would be doing the world a fucking favor by ending his life . 

he’d never wanted to drag you into this world . he wanted you free from it . but here you were , tapped to a chair , tears streaming down your face . preston was smug as he watched you , not noticing the gleam of chrome behind him . not realizing that jesse was here , close . he didn’t notice until jesse squatted down and cut through his Achilles tendon in one deep slash . the larger man was quick to disarm preston , using the knife he’d been holding to stab through his hand with so much force it settled into the floor . jesse hand’t wanted you to see this side of him . but it open for you . jesse’s heart set on one thing and one thing only . dismembering and torturing this betrayer of trust and kidnapper of his love . it slow and agonizing , and you had to close your eyes and look away , unable to take the scene . but when the screaming stopped you looked back , seeing the way jesse’s broad shoulders shook and his head titled back . 

you made a noise , and it drew his attention . he was on you in and instant . cutting you free and tugging at tap , even if it hurt , he wanted it off of you . before he could sign anything you were tugging him in , pushing his chrome mask off his face and kissing him , asking if he was okay , telling him how worried you were about him . he couldn’t help but bring you in close , bloodstained , gloved hands ridding up your shirt . you’d seen him at his truest , and yet you worried for him instead of yourself . he couldn’t ever let you go now .

thomas

the meat had got out . high on adrenaline and fear , the girl had somehow used her bloody wrists to wiggle out of her restraints . thomas has roared with fury when he saw her missing . grabbing his chainsaw as he quickly stomped upstairs . he needed to find and end them before they had a chance to retaliate against his family . 

he was panting , looking for blood trails to lead him in the right direction when he heard you scream . his heart stopped for half a second as fear and rage flooded him . they had you . they would hurt you , take you away . he couldn’t lose you . he could’t . 

the woman was clawing at you , sobbing as she dug her jagged nails into your skin , you tried to crawl away , tried to push her off , panic flooding you . soon her begs became screeches of betrayal as she realized you were one of those monsters who had killed her friends . her hands balled into fists and she raised them , bringing them down on you were she could . she didn’t get more than two hits in before tommy brought the chainsaw down on her , tearing into her back and through her spine , splattering the both of you in blood . 

thomas kicked away the corpse , dropping the chainsaw as he looked down at you . fear in his eyes as he panted . he wanted to reach out , to hold you . but how could he ? you saw him kill . you would think he was a monster . and he deserved it for not tying the meat up tighter . for not just killing the meat right off the bat . 

you can only look up at thomas , trying to calm your breathing .the fear and self hate in his eyes . the utter loneliness  . . . you’re shaky on your feet , walking towards him . taking his hands in yours and kissing over his palms . he can’t help the sob that falls from his lips as he presses his forehead to your shoulder . and you can’t help that you press his hands over your heart , showing him you’re okay . it’s okay . every things okay . 

billy & stu

the boys are possessive and protective . they don’t like when people try to step in on their territory . it’s not you they don’t trust . it’s them . and there is only so much they can take before they snap . so it’s no surprise that they do . they don’t have their gear . but they do have a pick pocketed pocket knife and rage , and that will just have to do the trick . they don’t have time plan , they only have time to act . because that drunken bastard hasn’t left you alone all night , and he decided it would be find to just fucking grab at you despite you telling him to stop . 

they gang up on you , putting themselves between you and the drunken bitch fuck who was trying to grind on you . they don’t want you to see , one of them backing you up , while the other all but guts the bastard in a swift motion , careful not to get blood on them . it happens so fast , the screaming , the boys acting shocked , the sudden need to rush outside , to leave the bar and sneak away . stu blocks you from view , billy leading the three of you to a gas station . with and outdoor bathroom . 

they shove you in , billy washing the blood off his hands and trying to clean out the sink the best he can . stu trying to keep you from looking , but it’s too late . you can put it all together . and you’re wide eyed as you look between your boys . the looks in there eyes show you that there is a secret they’ve been hiding . something dark , something they’re scared of you finding out . and as you watch their faces everything falls into place . 

this isn’t how they wanted you to find out . they didn’t want you to find out . even if they both knew that with time you would . and here in a shitty public bathroom their secret became exposed . they wait for your response . teetering on the edge of fear and rejection . when you take their hands in your own . raising them to your cheeks and give them that soft smile , they feel relieved . and you’re next words , accepting and concerned for them have them both laughing and pulling you in for kisses . just stay safe , for me .

[ollypopwrites]

The latest chapter got me thinking Naughty thots: breeding kink with Biker!Din? With a helluva fluff and somftness™?? 🥺

Much to think about....

👀💦

Can be read on its own, but is part of the Biker!Mando Series.

a/n: YOU ASKED FOR IT!! so its not quite like my usual fics with this kink -- the softness really got out of hand tbh. It’s so soft. I hope you love it darling. 

warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY, breeding kink, dirty talk, confessions and some embarrassment, softness, cuddles, cockwarming (sort of?)

wordcount: 1.4k

The headboard keeps slamming into the wall and you think that just maybe it might put a dent in it. All you can do is hold on, grabbing desperately at his shoulders, nails digging in whenever he  brushes up against something very good deep inside of you. 

  He’s been handsy all day, even in public which is unusual. A hand on your thigh under a table, leaning close into  your space whenever he gets the chance to. Something is on his mind that  has him all riled up but you don’t know what it is.He didn’t specify or ask for anything, just got you alone when he got the chance and quickly undressed you. 

  You aren’t going to complain, but you are curious about what he’s got going on in his head.

  Din has his face pressed into your neck, the heavy breaths echoing loudly in your ears. Pressed so close, he’s putting a lot of force into every thrust and it feels like he’s trying to climb inside of you -- tangling you two until there’s no discerning where either of you begin or end. 

  He’s far gone, brain melting away at the warmth in which you greet him -- wet and hot and intoxicating. Not to mention the way your  bodies rub together, all skin on skin. Each pant and desperate whine makes him drive his hips harder, he knows you’re close and he is too. It’s a lot, overwhelming in the best way, and he’s opening his mouth to speak before he even realizes it. 

  “I’m gonna fill you up -- “ he groans, “over and over -- make your belly grow with my baby -- “

  Your eyes open wide, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds before you say, “what?”

  He suddenly goes very still. Fuck, he hadn’t meant to say that last part. Of course, he’s thought about it. Recently, it’s been all he can think about. But that was supposed to be something tucked into the back of his mind. 

  All the times he’s thought about holding you down, pumping into you and keeping himself there so none of his cum escapes. It’s driven him to the edge more than once but it’s not something he knows how to bring up. It implies a lot and he’s not sure he can have that conversation without screwing it up. 

  He doesn’t know how to say it. To express that he wants you to beg for it, ask him to do it, but he’s fumbled it already and is cringing at himself. 

  He swallows hard, “sorry,” he grunts. 

  Slowly, he starts to pull away not looking at you as he lifts his weight up and starts to shift away from you. You hadn’t meant to question it so bluntly -- but it took you by so much surprise that you hardly could keep it in. 

  He was retreating fast, though, and you had to backpedal. Quickly, your thighs wrap around his hips not just holding him there but pulling him in further and you notice the way his eyebrows furrow at the sensation. 

  “Is that what you want?” You ask him. “Want to fuck me full...breed me?”

  Din looks down at you for a moment, his body screaming at him to go with it because -- yes, he fucking does -- but he’s not quite sure if its really okay to say. Hearing you say it simultaneously  makes his cock twitch and makes him wonder if you’re mocking him. It’s confusing, and hard to think properly while he’s still stuffed inside of you. 

  Offering him a coy little smile, you roll your hips a little and he has to close eyes as you grind on him. But he’s still uncertain, maybe a little embarrassed, and you feel like you're running out of time to convince him it’s okay, and you like it.

  “Tell me,” you say gently, then repeat, “tell me what you want.”

  Your hips are still moving, hands pulling him back into your embrace. He’s not sure, but he lets himself be drawn in, his face pressing into your neck again. He doesn’t start talking though, just rutting his hips and after a moment your grip on his hips makes it so he can’t move -- can’t chase the friction to shoo away the feelings of doubt in his mind. 

  “Cyare,” he growls. He’s shy now, lashing out a little bit because of your teasing. 

  But you don’t give in. He’s attempting to overpower the strength of your legs for a moment, before he huffs and just falls limp against you. Resting all of his weight  on you with a frustrated growl. 

  “I've thought about it too,” you admit softly. “When you get really deep, I think about how badly I want you to -- cum deep and give me a baby,” you swallow hard, cunt clenching around him as you think about all the times you’ve felt it on the tip of your tongue, “but I didn’t know if you -- “

  You trail off when he starts to lift himself up to look you in the eyes, a new fire in his own from the way you spoke about it. His lips are on yours, harsh and needy, his hips experimentally thrusting into you again. 

  “How could I not?” He asked, his lips centimeters from yours. “It’s like you’re made for me -- “ he grunts when you allow him the space to move again, his hips now grinding into you. Pressed so close it feels again like he wants to try to melt the two of you together. “Tight and warm and always so fucking wet -- “ your cunt clenched down around him and he groans desperately, his mouth trailing to your jaw to kiss and nibble. “Per-perfect for me, you’d look so good --   “ he’s falling apart a little bit and you aren’t faring much better. 

  You’re trying not to drown out his words with your own whines and desperate pleas. 

  You whine, forgetting what you mean to say the moment you open your mouth. Brain fogged over whenever you think about asking for it. 

  “Are you gonna come?” he grunts, and you can hear how his jaw is clenched, trying to keep his own orgasm at bay. “Gonna come thinking about me fucking a baby into you?”

  “Yes,” you cry it out, feeling the coil so quickly tightened in you breaking finally and the waves of an orgasm roll over you. Telling him to breed you in a mindless, broken chorus of pleading that seems to just pour out of you. 

  You’re so lost in it, the way it overcomes your whole body — thinking of how he fills you and is now rutting into you with abandon it’s like the waves won’t stop coming. Seeing, feeling and hearing you is too much he feels his body give in to it all, just as quickly brought over the edge by the way you ask him for it. 

  Din lets out a helpless groan when he comes, trying to fuck himself as deeply inside of you as he can. It’s a warm and wet mess inside of you, but your cunt flutters around him still -- your body thrumming with satisfaction.

  Heavy breaths fill the room, and he’s still settled on top of you his grip not loosening despite already being spent. His face buried in the crook of your neck to hide his face.

  “That -- that was okay?” He asks, a little bashful despite the rough tone of his voice.

  You give a warm chuckle, “more than okay.” 

  It’s silent for a while, he makes no move to get off of you or slip himself out of you. Your fingers dance over the skin of his back, soothing and catching on scars here and there. He’s sated, warm and happy, but still holding a question between his teeth with uncertainty. 

  “And...one day,” he grumbles, that same bashful tone. “I would -- if you want  -- I could -- actually do it.”

  “Do what?” You ask, with a soft frown.

  “Give you a child.” 

  You blink up at the ceiling a few times, processing the words. Around him your arms tighten up, and you turn your face as much as you can pressing a kiss to the shell of his ear. “I’d like that,” you whisper. 

  He doesn’t respond, feeling still a little too vulnerable to look at you just yet. But he stays there with you for a while, hiding his face and grappling with the way it feels for the first time he has somewhere soft to land. 

Taglist (1/2)  @mandolovian @hdlynnslibrary @oloreaa @phoenixhalliwell @theocatkov @hopplessdreamer @thisisthe-way @buckstaposition @starlight-starwrites @agingerindenial @bisexual-space-slut  @gallowsjoker @shadylightbearherring @teaofpeach @tintinwrites @talesfromtheguild @ben-is-a-hoe @mandilflorian @kiwi-the-first @blue-writes-a03  @sinon36 @66wookies @peachdameron @mstgsmy @luosymekawa @ren-ni @chibi-liz05 @mrsparknuts  @seasonschange-butpeopledont @seeking-a-great--perhaps ​ @windfallss @legally-a-bastard @nominalnebula @5secondsofsumaa @the-feckless-wonder @pascalz @mitchi-c @leo-moon @altarsw @panslabyrinthx @huliabitch @paintballkid711 @weirdowithnobeardo @giselatropicana @plainbrunettelbl @marvelous-capsicle @coredrive @jedi-mando @dazedrhapsody

[atypicalacademic]

Ghare Bhaire

Words: 700

Skylar x Haider for @ollifree, from these hand-holding prompts: "only linking the pinkies together, not ready to let go completely" + "brushing against each other, linking fingers together for a second"

No warnings only somft.

*

Ghare-Bhaire (Bangla): home and the world

*

“Do you really have to go?” Haider’s voice was still rough with sleep, his mahogany eyes barely open as he tipped a spoonful of spice into Skylar’s cup of chai, before sliding it across the counter with a sigh. Dawn was barely breaking, the light a delicate, lotus-petal pink where it played off the flowers and vines clinging to Haider’s hand-painted walls. The beaded curtains parted at Skylar’s reluctant assent as he shuffled in, Salsa at his heel, dragging his satchel in one hand while he snaked the other around Haider’s waist.

“I can’t miss another ship.” Skylar reminded him, ducking a little so his horns wouldn’t graze the kitchen cabinets packed to the edge with tinctures and herbs, sugars and spices. Warming his hands over the steaming cup of chai, he leaned down to press a kiss to Haider’s forehead. “And you,” He poked the tip of his nose, “Should be getting some rest.”

“And let you go hungry?”

“I can feed myself.”

Haider laughed, catching one of Skylar’s curls between his henna-painted fingers. “Not like I can.” He silenced Skylar’s protest with a lazy kiss to his lips. “It’s true. You know it.”

Skylar pulled him closer, breathing in the incense-and-bauhinia scent that always clung to Haider’s hair, free from its usual confines and falling in soft dark waves past his shoulders. “Alright, I know it.”

Haider smiled against Skylar’s chest. “What happened to leaving at first light?”

Skylar pressed another kiss to his hair. “It’s still first light.”

Forcing himself out of Skylar’s hold, Haider placed the cup of chai back into his hands. “Drink up. It’s bad luck to leave something unfinished.”

“Huh.”

“Umma said so, all the time.” Haider murmured, busying himself with Skylar’s scarves, wrapping the bright red fabric snug around his magician to keep him from the chill. Salsa nuzzled at Haider’s knee, craning her neck for his attention. He petted her between the ears, not taking his eyes away from Skylar, leaning briefly into a lingering touch at his cheek.

Soon enough, too soon, Skylar would take to the road again, take with him the warmth that had shielded him from the winter’s chill for the months he spent at home with him. As much as Haider never begrudged him that, his wandering and his quiet, fervent curiosity, his heart still sank at the thought of sleeping alone, without Skylar’s soft frame pressed against his, his dark curls between his fingers, his eyes on him, deep and lovely, like twin forest pools in the dim light.

Fortunate, then, that it lives so long, that slow-burning flame in his chest, both his love and his patience, until Skylar returns, as he always does.

“I miss you already.” Skylar said softly.

“Miss my cooking, you mean.”

“Your everything. And more.”

Haider blushed, looking away.

“Sure I can’t ask you to come along?” Skylar perched his elbow on the counter.

Batting Skylar’s chest playfully with his scarf, Haider shook his head. “But then you’ll return to an empty house. We can’t have that.”

“’S that what you’re here for, Haidi?” Skylar set his cup aside to take Haider’s face in his hands. “To bring me home?”

“Among other things.” Haider kissed him again, and rested against the crook of his neck. If he let his eyes flutter shut, he could fall asleep right there. “I’m here to be here.” He said, half-to himself, his beard brushing against Skylar’s neck as he trailed kisses up to his jaw. “I’ll always be here.”

A brighter beam of sunlight startled them apart, and Skylar caught his breath, looking over his shoulder. “Fuck, now I need to run.”

Laughing, Haider followed after him to the door, handing him his satchel with a hurried goodbye kiss. Skylar caught his wrist to kiss his knuckles, green eyes finding Haider’s mahogany ones.

Damn those eyes. Bless those eyes.

“What do you want, hm?” Their hands brushed as they drew away, Skylar pausing to trace the henna-flowers painted onto Haider’s bronze skin. “What do you want, from over the sea?”

As if he needed to ask.

“You, silly.” Haider twined his pinkie around Skylar’s, linking their hands in the narrow space between the door and it’s frame. “Just you.”

[andie-cake]

Oooo I've got some ideas:

Reverse roles where Paul is the barista and Emmas the CCRP worker and Emma slips him a note asking him out and he gets so flushed up and has a hard time serving her bc he's got a huge crush

Colorado au where the two of them really sit down and appreciate that despite all the shit they went through, they still have each other, so like,,, bittersweet ig

They adopt a cat. Just. That's it. They adopt a cat and I'm somft okay-

Paul has nightmares and Emma comforts him and helps him fall back asleep

Paul and Emma go on that date they were talking about after the helicopter crash

Paulkins proposal

Uhhh ice cream shop date

Beach date

I'm sorry if I've annoyed you I just have a lot of feelings dhdjddjdje

I'm gonna go with the nightmares prompt, bc that's the one my brain latched onto first. Also uh,,, I hope you don't mind that I made it DTfiles related? Consider this a DT Drabble that takes place at some point in between chapters 7 and 9!

"Fucking anti-social shut-in!"

"You selfish, good-for-nothing coward!"

The fight for the Tickle-Me-Wiggly doll raged on, and Paul had no intention of losing it. He needed that doll like he needed air to breathe. Wiggly would bring him happiness. He would bring him love. As long as Paul worshiped his Lord and joined Him in Drowsy Town, Wiggly would show him the light. And the only thing standing in the way of that was Emma, who wanted the doll all to herself.

Paul continued to try and wrestle the Wiggly doll from Emma's iron grip, but she was resilient, pulling and yanking in an attempt to shake off Paul's own grasp. All while they screamed progressively harsher insults at each other. Paul couldn't bring himself to be shaken by any of them. Hurtful words wouldn't matter to him soon, not when he had the essence of Wiggog Y'rath in his hands, and only his hands.

But Paul let his grip loosen too soon, and Emma managed to snatch the doll back from him. Paul watched on in disbelief as Emma cradled the doll in her arms.

"Yes! He's mine!" she exclaimed, her eyes wild and glowing with a pulsing green light. She closed her eyes and pressed her ear to the Wiggly doll's belly- like she was listening for a heartbeat, and began to smooth His ruffled fur down. "He's all mine! I can hear His voice..."

Rage unlike anything Paul had ever known began to course through his veins. No... She couldn't have Him, Wiggly had promised Paul happiness! With an enraged scream, Paul lunged for Emma, grabbing her by the throat and pinning her to the couch. Emma stared on in horror as Paul began to strangle her.

"P-Paul...!" she choked out, struggling beneath him. "Stop...!"

"He's mine, you can't have Him..." Paul hissed, an elated chuckle sneaking into his voice as he watched her squirm. "He's mine, you can't have Him..."

Paul tightened his grip around Emma's throat. Tears began to well up in her wide, panicked eyes. She deserved this... She deserved this for trying to deprive Paul of his master's love... She released her grip on the Wiggly doll, desperately prying at Paul's hands. Paul didn't care that she had let go, he just wanted to see her suffer. It was what his Lord wanted him to do, and he would not disappoint Him. Life began to fade from her eyes.

"Paul... Please..."

~

Emma hadn't been expected to be woken up in the middle of the night by Paul thrashing under the covers in his sleep, muttering nonsense under his breath. She flicked on the light, baffled by what she was seeing. But then she noticed the distress on his face, covered in cold sweat and panting heavily between frantic murmurs. Emma's heart jumped into her throat. He was having a nightmare.

"Paul? Paul!" she exclaimed, trying to jostle Paul awake. "Please wake up, babe..."

With a sharp gasp, Paul's eyes flew open, and he looked around in a panic. It was then Emma realized that it wasn't just sweat pouring down his face, he'd been crying as well. She gently put her hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, hey, you're okay..." she softly assured him as he continued to pant and heave. "It was just a nightmare, hun..."

Paul's tearful eyes met hers. "E-Emma...?"

Emma nodded, offering him a warm, reassuring smile to hopefully calm his nerves. But much to her surprise, Paul threw his arms around her, wrapping her in a bear hug as his body began to shake with sobs.

"You're okay!" he exclaimed, his face buried in the crook of her neck. "Oh god, Emma, I'm so sorry!"

"Whoa, whoa, sorry for what!?" Emma sputtered, horribly lost and confused. "Paul, what happened?"

Paul pulled back from the embrace, gently tilting her chin up. For a moment, Emma thought he was moving to kiss her, but she soon felt his lips gently brush her neck.

"There's no bruises..." he sighed, sounding relieved. "You're not hurt..."

Emma forced herself not to giggle or fidget as Paul carefully kissed over her neck, possibly the gentlest he'd ever been. She had to stay on track.

"Paul, are you okay?" she asked, lifting his head back up so he was looking her in the eyes. Emma's heart sunk. He looked so scared. "What were you dreaming about?"

"It was, um..." he began quietly, looking down at his lap. "Our fight over the Wiggly doll..."

Emma's face fell, immediately understanding what he meant. "Oh god, Paul..." she said, pulling him back into their embrace from earlier. "It's okay, that wasn't us, remember? That was all Wiggly's doing."

"I-I know, but..." Paul sniffled, tearing up again. He sounded so broken. "It went further this time. I dreamt that I killed you over it, Emma..."

"Shh, it's okay, Paul..." she gently shushed him, letting him melt into her embrace. "I know you would never hurt me."

Emma let Paul cry on her shoulder, holding him in her arms and pressing the occasional kiss to his temple. Ever since the fiasco with the Wiggly doll, Paul's been subjected to several nightmares over it, some worse than others. They were usually triggered on nights where he'd heard the Tickle-Me-Wiggly jingle playing at the grocery store or something a few hours prior. Emma was determined to not let Paul beat himself up over the things he'd said while under Wiggly's influence, but these nightmares made it a hell of a lot harder.

Emma laid back in bed, gently easing Paul over so that his head was resting on her stomach. He shut his eyes, clinging to her like a baby koala, and Emma couldn't help but smile a bit. Emma hadn't expected Paul to be much of a cuddler when they first started dating, but she was quick to realize that touch was very much a love language for him. He used to be very shy about physical affection- as though he was embarrassed by it, but he soon became adjusted to regularly giving it to and receiving it from her.

"I love you, Paul," Emma told him, running her fingers through his tousled bedhead. "You know that, right?"

"Mhm, I do," Paul muttered in reply, nestling in closer to her. "And I love you too."

"Get some sleep," she said. "And I'll wake you if you start having nightmares again."

"M'kay. I love you."

"You just said that."

"And I mean it every time."

Emma watched as Paul slowly drifted off, his once-panicked breathing becoming steady. She ran her hand through his hair, savoring the fluff of his bedhead. Occasionally she'd let her hand wander a little further down to gently scratch his back, just to hear him chuckle sleepily as her nails grazed his skin. Once Emma was sure that Paul had fallen back asleep- and he confirmed it by softly snoring against her, she reached over to turn the bedroom lights off once more, and let herself drift off.

[caleb-wigodast]

The Cloak of Disguise and its Many Uses

Doriax (Dorian/Dariax) 18+

[This fic takes place after episode 3 of Exandria Unlimited]

Summmary: The Cloak of Disguise can physically alter the wearer's appearance as far as their race, height, and biological sex. Upon learning this, Dorian has something to ask of Dariax, and Dariax is more than happy to indulge his boyfriend.

A/N: Hi I don't care if this isn't how the cloak of disguise works, i didn't look it up, ANYWAY i got this idea and spent the whole day writing it and whoops! it's a love confession fic now. I love somft, lovely smut so I write it. Enjoy!

Read it on AO3!

It had been a long day, they’d headed into Emon, avoided detection with a distraction that soon became Dariax’s debut drag performance, had a long meeting with Gilmore about goods and evils, and were nearly killed as they were hunted on their way out of town. But they were finally able to rest now, finding a clearing in a nearby woods and setting up a campfire.

The rest of their lot was asleep by the fire as Dorian and Dariax took watch, sitting on the edge of Gilmore’s cart and looking up at the stars as they held hands. A breeze blew by that made Dorian shiver, and Dariax reached back to put his cloak over Dorian.

Dorian smiled, “Thank you, Darling,” he pulled the cloak tighter around his shoulders. Dariax watched Dorian consider it for a moment before asking, “How,, does this work, exactly?”

“The cloak? I just swirl it around, think of what I wanna look like, and it does it,” Dariax replied easily.

Dorian nodded, “…How much of you does it actually alter?”

Dariax shrugged, “As much of me as I want it to.”

Dorian thought for a moment, “Earlier when you were Tharla-“ Dariax grinned at that, “your outfit was rather revealing, so it showed much of your body-“

“Don’t think I didn’t catch a certain air genasi gettin’ a good look at me,” Dariax spoke with vocal fry, “I could tell even with all my twirling that you couldn’t take your eyes off me, could you?”

Dorian rolled his eyes with a slight smile, “The sight was wonderful but the voice was horrible,” he cringed as Dariax laughed, “Regardless, one thing I noticed during your performance was that, certain aspects of your body were,, rather different.”

“Yeah, I can change my appearance as far as like, what race, what height, what sex… and it all interacts with the world around like the clothes do, It’s pretty cool!”

Dorian nods, “I see, does- when it interacts with the world.. how,, much do you feel?”

Dariax gave him a look of confusion, “Pretty much everything, why do you ask?”

Dorian swallowed, “You mentioned it can change your biological sex… would that mean?”

“Yeah, I had a vagina,” Dorian eyes went wide at that, blushing and staring intently at the ground, “When I transform into a woman- or, someone who I assume has a vagina, I change everything down there just so no one gets suspicious or whatever. But it functions and all! I’ve had a few dicks in there before.”

Dorian chokes out, “At the same time???”

Dariax thinks for a moment, counting on his fingers and mumbling half-forgotten names to himself, “I’ve had two at once maybe like, 4 times. I’ve met some people that had two dicks. One of them had three dicks but I just couldn’t take the third in the front, so I had that one in my ass instead.”

Dorian’s face was a deep blue, but he shook off his blush and asked, “How much changes anatomically? There’s no risk of…” he trailed off before Dariax gave him a confused look “like, getting pregnant or anything?”

Dariax made a sour face, “Nah, I mean, I know magic like that is possible but that’s like, Super high level. I’m still a dude with a penis at the end of the day, so things don’t change completely. Like, if someone had a fever and I transformed into them, I wouldn’t get their fever. Ya’know?”

Dorian nodded, “Right, that makes sense… um, would you… be interested in,, trying something with me? Sexually, that is?”

That got Dariax’s attention, he leaned in, “What kinda thing sexually?”

“Um, well, I like vaginas as well as penises, and- I love your dick! Don’t get me wrong, it’s wonderful!-“

“Oh I know,” Dariax gave a dopey grin.

“-But,, well, variety is the spice of life as they say-“

“I thought that was Suude?”

“No, Dariax, that’s drugs.”

“Oh, well anyway, I think I get what you mean,” Dariax leaned close to Dorian’s ear before sensually whispering with vocal fry, “would you like Tharla Starr to give you a private performance?”

Dorian playfully shoved Dariax away, who laughed before moving back to his snuggling position.

“I was actually hoping the illusion could be a bit closer to you, if possible,” Dorian admitted.

“Really?” Dariax was touched, he’d seen so many fall for Tharla, he only got as much attention as he did because he was her, so to know that Dorian still wanted him made him feel so treasured.

“Of course, Tharla was beautiful, but the reason I found her as attractive as I did was because I knew it was you underneath all that.”

Dariax blushed, “D’awww,” he moved to give Dorian a sweet kiss, “you’re sweet, and I’d be more than happy to transform and alter some things for you, if you’d like,” he grinned.

“But, do you feel anything when you transform? Does it feel good?” Dorian seemed hesitant.

“Oh yeah” Dariax moaned, his mind supplying a million memories at once, “I’ve been fucked a few times like that. It feels,, Absolutely incredible. And I’d love to try it with you if you’d like,” he walked his fingers along Dorian’s thighs, making Dorian shiver.

“I would love to Dariax,” was all he was able to reply.

“Great,” he looked around, “wanna do it while the others are still asleep or?”

Dorian huffed out a laugh, “As much as I’d love to right now, I don’t think we could get away with it, I know how loud you moan.”

“I only moan that loud cause you feel so good, and my moans are nothing compared to how I make you scream,” Dariax teased, tracing patterns with his finger’s in Dorian’s thigh.

Dorian blushed, mumbling “Well I only scream that loud cause you feel so good…”

“Aww,” Dariax pressed a kiss to Dorian’s cheek, “Well, we got the cart if you wanna do anything.”

Dorian looked at him, then to the group, then to the cart, gesturing with his eyes to point out the small distance, “I thought we just went over this, they would Absolutely hear us in the cart, Dariax,” he gave an amused smile nonetheless.

“It’s soundproof though-“

“What?”

“Earlier when we were trying to talk to the others outside, it was Real hard to hear them. I’m pretty sure its magically enchanted or something.”

From what little they knew of Gilmore, that seemed to track for the kind of man he was. But Dorian still seemed hesitant, “Are you sure?”

Dariax, “Oh for sure, I would love to have you inside me in a new way!”

Dorian blushed, “Alright then, as long as you’ll enjoy it as much as I will.”

Dariax nodded, “Believe me, I will… you want me to add the boobs too?”

Dorian didn’t make eye contact with Dariax, but nodded, staring firmly at the ground.

Dariax grinned, pressing a kiss to his cheek before standing and transforming into… himself. For a moment it looked like it hadn’t worked before Dariax felt his breasts sagging his shirt down. He looked up at Dorian to see him staring and swallowing thickly.

Dorian smiled, squeezing his boobs a bit and giggling, “they’re nice and squishy,” he moved to sit on a flustered Dorian’s lap and hang his arms around his neck as Dorian’s arms secured around his waist.

Dariax leaned close to Dorian’s ear and whispered (with vocal fry again) “I can’t wait to have you inside me~” punctuating the sentence with an exaggerated moan.

Dorian took the opportunity of Dariax’s underarms being exposed to tickle him. He moved his elbows down and giggled as Dorian smiled fondly and teased him, keeping one arm firm around his waist, making sure he didn’t fall off his lap and onto the ground in their game.

They heard someone stirring and stopped, watching to see Opal turn over in her sleep.

“…we should probably get into the cart before continuing any further,” Dorian suggested.

“Yeah, probably a good idea.”

Dariax moved to secure the opening of the fabric hood over the cart as Dorian moved further in. Though most carts at Gilmore’s were used for transport of magical goods, this one seemed to be for luxurious travel. The inside was ornately decorated with plush rugs and comfortable throw pillows, all decorated in a variety of golds and purples. They weren’t particularly comfortable, but they were firm, and it allowed Dorian to sit up comfortably as Dariax moved to sit on his lap again.

Dariax smiled deviously down at Dorian as he rolled his hips against the bulge in his pants and Dorian moaned. He moved to nose and mouth at Dariax’s boobs through the layer of fabric before he took the ties keeping the shirt up between his teeth and tugged slowly, Dariax felt his breath hitch in his chest as Dorian looked at him with desire as his boobs jiggled free of their constraints.

Dorian took a moment to caress Dariax’s chest, running his hands over the soft, smooth skin- still hairy, he was a dwarf after all- and he held and squeezed and felt the weight of them in his hands. Dariax hadn’t made them comically large, they were proportionate to the rest of his body, a bit on the larger side, but proportionate. They were big enough for Dorian to grip and squeeze and oh- now he was sucking on his nipple... Oh this felt really good.

Dariax moaned out and rolled his hips against Dorian’s again, making the boob not in Dorian’s mouth bounce as he moved. Dorian groaned out at that and brought his hand up to begin pinching and squeezing at his nipples Dariax let out a whine and squeezed Dorian’s hips with his thighs, he moved his hands to rest on his shoulders to keep him steady as Dorian teased both nipples with his fingers, now moving to leave love bites and hickies all over the expanse of Dariax’s chest. Who knows if they’d stay there tomorrow, if Dariax had a say- he’d make them stay there forever.

Dorian continued leaving marks and bites over Dariax’s chest until he sucked particularly hard on one of Dariax’s nipples and caused Dariax to nearly double over in pleasure. This brought his boobs to press against Dorian’s face before he felt warmth spread against the spot he’d been grinding on- only it wasn’t from him.

“Babe,, did you just come from my boobs being squished in your face?” He tried to hold back the amusement in his voice.

“They’re really nice, okay!” was the only reply he got as Dorian hid his face in them.

Dariax laughed at that, moving to cup Dorian’s face to bring him in for a kiss, “I’ll have to bring them out more often then,, do you wanna keep going or-?”

“I think I’ll need a bit to recover, but you haven’t come yet, no?”

Dariax shook his head, “Nah.”

“Well, that’s simply a crime!” Dorian declared, He moved to grip Dariax’s ass and hold him against his chest as he kissed him and flipped them so Dariax was sprawled out against the plush carpets of the cart.

Dariax caught his breath as Dorian tossed off his shirt, “Well that’s a crime we really don’t wanna commit, now do we?”

Dorian chuckled, “we certainly don’t, I’d much rather eat you out so I can fuck you properly later,” he smirked.

Dariax arched an eyebrow as he tossed his own shirt aside, “I think you mean so I can ride you later,” he teased.

Dorian rolled his eyes fondly, “Regardless, may I eat you out, or no?”

Dariax chuckled, “Absolutely,” he gestured towards his crotch, “dinner is served, eat up!”

Dorian cringed at the words, making Dariax laugh again before he moved to pull his pants down slowly. Dariax saw Dorian’s eyes go wide as he gasped, finally getting to see what sat between his legs. Dorian licked his lips hungrily and looked up at Dariax with desire.

“Alright now, don’t come twice already,” Dariax teased.

“You’re joking but-“ Dorian responded before forgetting his sentence, moving down in awe to lick a stripe between Dariax’s folds. He shivered in response. It was barely any stimulation yet, but it felt so good. He was wet already, providing great lubrication for Dorian’s tongue as he licked up the salty substance and buried his nose in Dariax’s curls, searching around with his tongue.

Dariax gasped and bit down on his lip, letting out a moan as Dorian found his clit and began sucking softly, “Fuuuuuuck, that feels really really good please do more of that, yeah.”

Dorian hummed against Dariax and he bit back a whine at how good it felt, Dorian moved lower on Dariax but quickly replaced his tongue with his thumb on Dariax’s clit. Dorian moved to stick his tongue deep inside Dariax, moaning out into the wet heat of the dwarf. Dariax let out a soft whisper of Dorian’s name as he felt himself being explored by the gentle ministrations of his lover’s tongue.

He felt Dorian fuck his tongue in and out of Dariax as he frantically moved his hands down to grip on Dorian’s hair. Dariax felt himself puff up slightly against Dorian’s face and he felt like he was on pins and needles in the best way possible. Dorian removed his tongue and Dariax was about to complain before he moved to suck on Dariax’s clit again, and oh Changebringer, that felt good. Dariax curled his toes as came with a soft whimper of “fuck!”

He saw stars, and when he came back down he could feel Dorian cleaning up what had spilled out with his tongue, sucking on his folds gently before Dariax used the hand still in Dorian’s hair to tug him up for a deep kiss. Dorian returned the kiss gladly as Dariax wrapped his legs around Dorian’s waist, pulling him down even further.

Dariax made a scrunched up face, “I’m cold,” he frowned.

Dorian chuckled, “me too,”

Dorian moved to sit up against the mountain of pillows and Dariax followed, grabbing a blanket and tossing it over them both before snuggling up to Dorian’s chest, “fuck me- that felt incredible!” he sighed.

Dorian chuckled, “In a bit when I can get it up again, darling.”

Dariax snickered, “Well I’m excited for that but- man,, I don’t know why I’ve never tried that before.. that was great!”

Dorian looked at him, “You’ve never been eaten out before?”

“Not like that nah, I’ve had my ass eaten a few times, but not my vagina.”

Dorian looked at Dariax in amazement, “Have I been your first for something? You, Dariax, the ever-experienced in the world of sexuality?” he was half joking, Dariax could tell he was proud to be Dariax’s first experience with something knew.

“Well, you’re not just my first for that,” Dariax chuckled.

“Oh?” Dorian raised an eyebrow.

Dariax fiddled with his fingers, “You’re my first love…” he felt Dorian still beside him, “I love you, Dorian.”

“I- I love you too, Dariax, so much,” Dorian’s hands moved to cup Dariax’s face and bring him close for a sweet kiss. Dariax kissed back and wrapped his arms around Dorian’s neck, he tilted his head to deepen the kiss as he moved to sit on Dorian’s lap.

Dorian wrapped his arms around Dariax’s back and held him close as he kissed him sweetly and tenderly, running a hand through his hair to tilt them to a better angle. Dariax moaned out into the kiss, but as he felt tears on Dorian’s face, he pulled away slowly, “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked softly.

Dorian sniffled, “I’m just- I love you so much Dariax, I’m happy to have the feeling returned,” he pulled Dariax in for another kiss he poured all his love into, and Dariax did the same. For a moment they weren’t worried about what would come next, they weren’t worried about Dariax’s transformation fading before they could be intimate again, as long as they were there, holding each other in their arms and knowing they were loved, they would be content forever.

Their sweet loving kiss eventually turned desperate and feverish as hands roamed and gripped flesh as their mouths travelled to leave love marks on their necks and chins and shoulders. By the time they were panting desperately, taking a breath against each other’s lips, Dorian was fully hard again, he looked at Dariax with lustful eyes, “Dariax, do you-?”

Before Dorian could finish his sentence, Dariax nodded and lined himself up with Dorian before sinking down, moaning out as he was filled. Dorian panted, hiding his face in the crook of Dariax’s shoulder and neck, sucking a mark there as Dariax began slowly moving up and down on Dorian’s cock.

Dariax was decently endowed naturally, and since he didn’t have a gag reflex, he usually didn’t think about Dorian’s size when sucking him off. Though Dariax usually topped, he’d ridden Dorian before, though certainly not like this. He hadn’t realized the air genasi was so big he wasn’t as thick as Dariax was, but he was long, and right now as Dariax rolled his hips against Dorian, it was hitting all the best places.

“Mmmm, fuck yes. Feels so good,” he moaned out as Dorian whimpered and moved to suck on Dariax’s breasts further. Dariax gently pushed on Dorian’s shoulders and he looked up, making sure all was ok.

“I love when you suck on my tits, but right now I think you’ll enjoy things more if you just sit back on that cute little butt of yours and watch, yeah?” Dariax purred.

Dorian flushed and nodded, “mhm, absolutely.”

Dorian might have requested Dariax instead of Tharla, but Dariax was gonna give him a good show either way.

Dariax stretched his arms behind his head, putting his breasts on a prominent display as he rolled his hips against Dorian’s, noticing the way Dorian fisted his hands in the blankets below, trying not to touch, and Dariax smirked at that.

He rose his thighs to pull himself off before sinking down again and moaning out, he did this a few more times in rapid succession, moving so the head of Dorian’s cock rubbed against his G spot wonderfully. Dariax moaned out as his eyes rolled back in pleasure, he gripped his hands on Dorian’s shoulders as he continued his rapid pace, moving up and down and angling so he was hitting the spot more forcefully as he made a desperate noise and bit his lip.

Dorian was singing beautiful moans beneath him, “Fuck, Darling,, you look so beautiful,, I love seeing you like this, enjoying yourself and feeling good. Watching you chase your own pleasure is the loveliest sight in all of Exandria.” He bit his lip, still fighting to keep his hands off Dariax.

Dariax blushed at that, “Y-you’re so pretty, Dorian, I love when you turn blue and bite your lip like that, it’s really sexy…” Dariax wasn’t as good with words as Dorian was, but he trusted understood the sentiment regardless.

Dariax went back to rolling his hips against Dorian, “Fuck, babe, you can move now, I need you to use your hips some-“

Dorian quickly obliged, moving to take Dariax’s nipple into his mouth and grip his other breast as he brought his knees up to buck up into Dariax. Dariax moaned out at the change in angle, feeling Dorian’s hips slam into him and hit that spot over and over again. His mouth hung open with silent gasps as he felt his brain rocketing to the moon.

Dorian moved a hand down to grip his ass tightly and that’s what sent him over the edge, he shouted, “DORIAN!” as he came and clenched around his length. Dorian whimpered into Dariax’s chest as he came, filling Dariax even further and making him slump forward against Dorian’s face, smothering him in his boobs yet again.

They heard the fabric of the cart entrance being opened as a very grumpy halfling stomped into the room, “What on Exandria are you two doing?? Don’t you know how late it is???” Orym stopped in his tracks when he saw the scene before him, not-so-subtly checking out Dariax’s butt.

“I thought you said the cart was soundproof!” Dorian frantically whisper-yelled at Dariax.

“I thought it was!” Dariax insisted.

“Why would it be soundproof? It’s just a fabric cart- …why does Dariax have a vagina now?”

Dorian and Dariax looked at each other, blushing furiously, they had a lot of explaining to do.

A/N: I hc that Dariax sleeps naked sometimes so Orym would know that Dariax has a penis, which is cause for legitimate confusion when he sees him without one, he wasn't being weirdly transphobic or anything. Also, Opal and Fearne went off to go fuck in the woods when they woke up to Dorian and Dariax's sex noises.

[creepy-bi-day]

I'm here to cherish your great writing and ask for a match-up 😆😊

My appearance: I'm about 5'4 and im pear shaped, I have hazel eyes, and strawberry/ blond/brown hair (I dye it a lot the last color I had was red and when I was going back to my normal color it left a pinkish red undertone to it), I'm ghostly pale, I have slight bit of freckles on my cheeks, I'm a tad bit chubby but oh well that just make me soft to hug, you'll usually catch me in a tye dye jacket with peace signs on it

My personality: I'm known to be subtly chaotic, I make jokes at the worst times and sometimes they can be mean without me meaning to be mean, I lack a filter so I can sometimes be to straightforward, im imaginative I express things through either music writing or art, i love animals more the people most of the time, im very stubborn, I can either be the mom friend or the friend that's feral, im not the best with words I usually show my feelings through actions

My likes: I love tarot, I'm into astrology (im a libra/scorpio cusp), I love animals I have a pet hedgehog, I enjoy doing art, I love music (est 40s through 90s music), I like musicals, I enjoy dancing with a partner (I only really know how to waltz but I like it), i love naps especially when its raining, I like neck kisses, I enjoy cuddling, im a theater kid so I also love acting

My dislikes: i hate being ignored, drunks, my anxiety disorder, a lot of food I have a sensory problem so a lot of different foods freak me out, out of nowhere calls, when someone tests me

Sexuality: im pansexual but I lean more towards men and I'm open minded so im not opposed to polyamorous relationships as long as its close-knit (as in we all love each other not just us loving one person)

Extra: my dream date is being at a gas station at 2 AM in the morning sitting in the corner drinking slushies and having deep discussions. I have ADD, generalized anxiety disorder and depression. I'm a bit obsessive and possesvie due to being from a divorced family (dad cheated on mom ect.). Im definitely a switch in bed. I'm not energetic but I enjoy energetic peoples company. I'm known to have a bit of a hipster aesthetic.

Cusp buddies!! I’m a Sagittarius/Capricorn cusp!! Sun Sag, Moon Capricorn, and my Rising is Scorpio— Oop.

I ship you with:

Tim/Masky!

SFW:

Heads up: Masky and Tim are different people

Tim loves how light you are, in personality

You’re so different from him, and its why he calls you sunshine and his sweetheart

You’re a bit much for him sometimes, but hes just glad it brings him out of his comfort zone, which he really appreciates.

He plays guitar, so like. He’ll sing to you and write songs, usually strumming while he watches you draw

Teach him how to dance plz, hes super awkward.

Likes touching you but is awkward at first and needs an excuse

He loves cuddling. So much. He likes to cuddle with his arms draped around your side while he cuddles you close from behind

Big fan of spooning cause somft

Will probably telll you everything you need to figure out his birth chart just to see you excited.

Loves late night dates, especially just random walks around town

He loves seeing you smile, and constantly brings back little things he finds at gas stations that he thinks you’ll like

Masky, on the other hand

Is possessive and grabby

He likes cuddling forcibly, and will hold you borderline hostage while laying down because he wants to be near you

V blunt. Doesn’t care. He will tell you what hes thinking so, like, you never need to worry about that.

Brings back random shit h e finds from missions and gifts them to you

Once brought you a pretty constellation necklace, it ended up being the Libra constellation and he got to see you super happy

Doesn’t talk much, but when he does please listen

You’re one of the few people he doesn’t get tired of hearing vent or rant, but please dont ignore him. He won’t ignore you, but he’ll listen quietly

NSFW

Tim is def a switch

He’s shy and submissive when hes awkward

Tends to bottom the first couple times yall have sex

Totally a service sub. Just use him please

When hes domming???

He’s a brat tamer and takes a SHIT ton of joy in making you cry for him and making you whine

Aww, his little prinx wants to cum? Beg him more for it.

Loves choking, both giving and receiving

Likes fucking you in front of people to make sure they know you’re his

He is a MASTER with his tongue

Masky is NOT a switch

He’s a very very primal dom

Doesn’t talk much normally, but during sex hes even less verbal, mostly just grunting and groaning your name in your ear

Like Tim, hes very into choking, just don’t choke him plz. He will bite.

Speaking of biting, he loves to leave marks all over your body, making sure you can see them no matter what you’re wearing.

Very possessive, and will NOT have sex where people can see.

You’re his, and only his. Only person he’s sharing with is Tim, and they share a body so its fine.

Makes sure to lock the door, and knows how to roll his hips just right to brush against that spot that has you screaming-

Overall: Both good boys

[morbidly-malicious-muffins]

How about reader braiding Vin's hair for the first time cause at this point it's stressing both of them out how much the poor soul's struggling with it day & night. Just... all the lovely touches... the Softness™ rbkajhdksjfksnebkw

🥺🥺🥺 I love this request its so somft and lovely

Good job you beautiful genius

Braiding Vincent Sinclair's Hair 🕯

Vincent is generally a very bodily-aware individual who carries beauty and grace in everthing he does.

Except when his hair grew a little too unruly, and he would sculpt for hours with a thick curtain of black hair in front of his face.

His hair has an inclining toward getting stuck in wax or paint. It would even almost catch the fire of his candle in some occasions.

Its bad. He already only has one eye, so he's been walking around practically blind, he would trip on scattered objects around the house.

Don't bring those up though, Mister McScary-Vince has a spooky scary reputation to maintain.

You keep encouraging him to tie his hair up while working, but he refuses because he works with his mask off due to the heat, he'd feel exposed with his hair tied back too. (three cheers for an entire childhood worth of trauma 😢)

You stopped bringing that up altogether after seeing him almost cry at the idea.

Bo's suggestion is even worse, he nags Vinny to cut it short, which Vinny, of course, just blatantly ignores, seemingly not to process any words regarding that matter. The snipping of the hair is an absolute hell fucking no.

"Look where you're going for fuck's sake! Your hair is gettin' way too fuckin long, just cut it already."

*Vincent stops whatever he's doing, casts a murderous glance in his brother's general direction*

"You could ask Y/N to do it if ya cant see the back. "

*continues in his task, as if this conversation had never happened*

Thats because it didn't. It didn't.

One day when you were cuddling Vin on the sofa, you brought up the idea of braiding his hair.

"Like in sleep-overs!"

".... ? " *head tilt*

After a few prolonged 'please's, and pouty faces, he caved into the idea pretty quickly.

You started with taking your fingers and running them through Vincent's long locks of raven, working out all the tangled and clotted bits in them. His hair is straight but frizzy, not to mention very dry, so it has taken a while to get it to be completely smooth and ready for braiding.

Though Vinny didn't seem to mind, for he had been falling asleep at the soothing sensation of your fingertips delicately kissing his scalp. Sinking back into the sofa, eye closed and lips puling slightly up, he was in a calm and happy state.

You couldn't help but admire your boyfriend's beautiful content expression, then softly pressing your lips to his forehead, which is void of all worry lines and any traces of pleats for once. Vincent let out a cute quiet hum that made butterflies flutter in the pit of your stomach.

You decided you would ease him into it with half-up-half-down french braids starting from the sides of his head above the ears, and meeting at the back of his head.

Something new you found out was: Vincent has sensitive ears. Every time your finger brushes lightly against the tip of his ears, you can feel the light shivers fluttering through his back, his ears and neck lighting up in an adorable pink.

You finished the braids and pulled out some strands of hair at the front to frame his face, but also in an attempt to make him feel more comfortable.

Voila! You are done.

First thing he did was collect both your hands in his and kissing them both in appreciation. That sweet, sweet man.

Vincent could see so much better! But he still can feel little strands of hair framing his face and hair down his shoulders and back, so he doesn't feel too weird. You grab his hand, leading him to the bathroom to look at your beautiful work.

Vincent did a series of mini-twirls in front of the mirror, just appreciating the beautiful texture his hair now held, but trying not to look too much at his own face. (poor bby we love you 💙)

He had never really had anyone braid his hair, and he never learned for himself, so he is fascinated by how the light catches the bumps and curves of the braids. Its just so pretty! He thinks you did so good Y/N! Its like an effortlessly beautiful and intricate masterpiece on his head.

He smiles and wraps you up in a soft warm hug, kissing your forehead in gratitude.

He definitely makes note to ask you to do this for him more often.

There ya go! I hope you like it! This was so much fun to write, I smashed through this one like a champ, without a hiccup :3

I love our sweet Vinny McWaxy so much 🕯🖤🖤

Have a nice day/evening/morning everyone!

---Zali 🖤

[dapandapod]

Prompt 1 - calloused hands in soft hands

Jaskier teaching Ciri how to care for her hands so she develops callouses but still has smooth hands

Yes, of course my dear!! Please enjoy some somft kaer morhen family time! <3

Warnings: Uh... usage of a swear without understanding it? Some witcher training ouchies? Otherwise it's just background geraskier and lambden, lambert being his usual ass self, and immortal jaskier right. You know, the usual... Enjoy! <3

On Ao3 here Hand holding collection

Winter holds the promise of so many things. Snow covering the mountains, beautiful and treacherous.

Ice freezing the lake beneath the keep, the cold creating icicles of droplets hanging from rooftops and trees.

Ciri can feel her cheeks prickle with it, the sting of the harsh winds catching her hair and her clothes. She grips her wooden practice sword tighter, glaring at the stuffed straw figure in front of her.

She has been at it all day, cool sweat clinging to her back as she again launches at the wooden offender. She hits it with a loud thwack and she can feel the impact up through her arm.

"Better," Lambert tells her, as she jumps back and side-steps, ducking an imaginary blow.

However, winter prepared a trap for her, and she slips on a hidden patch of ice. She lands on her elbow and hisses in pain.

"What was that?" Lambert taunts as she hisses in pain.

Her leather arm protection takes most of the impact, but it still hurts.

"Did the dummy kick your feet from under you?"

Ciri glares, and then she makes some quick moves, sweeping her legs in a wide, controlled arc aimed at Lambert's feet.

Revenge.

It doesn't do much more than make him grunt in minor pain but she counts it as a victory.

It would take much more than that to tip his heavy ass over, and she says as much before she scurries away to safety.

Winter brings many things, including a few more creative swears to her repertoire, and she locks the door behind her to keep Lambert from tossing her from the wall into one of the big snow piles below.

Her hands ache when she comes into the warmth of the main hall, her ears and cheeks and chin soon aching as well. She makes a face and stomps her feet to get rid of the snow. They hurt too.

Throwing her soaked gloves to the side and shedding her scarf and cloak, she makes her way over to the fire. Vesemir will tell her off for littering later, but meh. She's cold and she's mad.

It takes her a moment to notice, but Jaskier is sitting off to the side, watching her over the edge of his book with an amused smirk.

"Lambert giving you a hard time?"

"He is the biggest fucking wanker on the entire fucking continent," she says darkly, and Jaskier lifts his eyebrows in delighted surprise.

"Where did you learn a word like that?" he asks, mock outraged.

"I heard Aiden and Eskel in the hot springs. I don't know what it means," she admits, and Jaskier looks like someone gave him the best gift.

"If you want a proper revenge, ask Lambert to explain it. I'm sure he'd be happy to." He smirks, closing the book around his finger as he looks around for a bookmark.

Ciri smiles and looks back at the flames. She opens and closes her fingers, trying to regain some feeling in them.

It stings as they slowly warm up, and she hisses when she notices a small wound on her dry knuckles.

Frowning, she looks down at it, touching the split skin carefully.

"Are you hurt?" Jaskier asks, picking up one of the unused knives on the table and putting it between the pages of his book. It's as good a bookmark as any.

"I'm fine," she mutters, licking her thumb and dabbing at her knuckle. It stings too, but her knuckle looks less dry at least.

"Let me see," he says, reaching for her hand, and she lets him. "Oh my dear girl, this looks painful indeed!" he says as he holds her hand and gently strokes the back. His hands are warm, soft and smooth, and Ciri has no idea how he does it.

"It's fine. I'm fine," she mutters again, because she is. It just stings a little.

"I don't doubt that you are. But at this rate, you are going to have worse hands than Geralt- no, don't give me that look. Really, Ciri, witchers know many things, but you mustn't learn stupidity from them. Come along."

Jaskier stands up and pulls Ciri up with him, still holding her hand. She doesn't fight him, just lets herself be led to his chambers and placed inside the door. The chair is cluttered, she notices, with a stack of clothes, blankets, a notebook, three socks, what seems to be a knitting needle, and a shoe.

Only then does he let go of her to rummage around in the drawers next to the bed.

"No, not that one, absolutely not. Nope. No. AHA! Here we are!" Jaskier says, standing up triumphantly to show off his find.

It is a small jar, filled with some sort of white paste, and he uncorks it as he brings it up to her nose so that she can sniff it.

It has the gentle smell of spring blossoms, reminding her of Jaskier's hands in her hair as he braids it back from her face.

She tilts her head in question and Jaskier gives her an amused smile.

"Ah. Maybe young princesses from warm climates don't have much use for these kinds of things. This, my sweet summer child, is something I have been trying to convince Geralt to try for years. More stubborn than a mule, that one, even when he only stands to gain from it."

"Is this how your hands are so soft?" she asks, and Jaskier possibly melts where he stands. It looks a little funny.

"Yes, sweetling, thank you for noticing. My hands aren't made for this cold, it makes them dry and rough. I don't mind that much, but if they get too dry, the skin can crack, and it hurts something awful," he explains, and she nods her understanding.

"Like mine."

"Yes. Want to try some? It will sting now, but it will feel much better tomorrow, I promise."

Ciri nods, a memory from long, long ago in the back of her mind, unearthing itself from where it has long been buried. Her mother, her hands always soft and gentle, always smelling of roses.

Jaskier gives her a gentle smile, crouching down and placing the little jar on his knee. It looks like it is about to tip over, but he catches it and dips his finger in it.

Then he grabs her right hand and gently massages the ointment into her hand. He was right, it stings when it coats her knuckles, but it is a good sting.

His thumbs make gentle circles, causing warmth to rush through her and soothing her.

Then he turns her hand over, taking another dollop of ointment and rubs it over her slowly forming calluses.

"I know Lambert might say this will weaken the calluses, but you shouldn't listen to him. I have used this for at least thirty years, and my calluses remain perfectly in place."

"Why would a poet need calluses?" Ciri asks when Jaskier grabs her other hand and starts on that one.

"Oh summer child, not all battles are won with steel or silver. Some are better fought with words, music, and long nights on a stage. For those fights, my calluses serve me well," he says gently, opening his hand for her to inspect.

He does indeed have the marks of his battles on his hands. His fingertips are rough, and he has bumps on his fingers that she has only ever seen the court scribe have.

But his skin is soft, smooth, unbroken.

When Jaskier deems her inspection finished, he continues working on her hand. Her left hand is not as bad off, but it stings all the same when the cool ointment is spread over her knuckles.

"There. All done!" Jaskier says cheerfully, rubbing what is left into his own hands. Then he puts on the lid and tucks it into her pocket with a wink.

"This will be our secret weapon against grumpy witchers, eh?" he says, booping her nose, and turns to grab his lutecase by the bed.

"But it's yours," she protests weakly and digs out the little jar.

"Hm? Oh, nonsense. I have more. Geralt is such a softie, did you know? He stocked up on hand ointment last time I mentioned I ran out. Can you keep a secret? I think he likes my hands," Jaskier says with a secret smile, opening the door to let them out again.

Ciri agrees. She has noticed Geralt liking Jaskier's hands too.

"Come on. We need to find Lambert and have him explain some very interesting words to you," Jaskier says gleefully.

So Ciri pockets the little jar again, following Jaskier back down the stairs. As she walks, she rubs her hands together, enjoying how soft and warm they feel now.

It does feel better, but a little slippery, so she decides to use it only when she is done for the day.

Winter holds the promise of so many things. New vocabulary, soft hands smelling of spring blossoms, and just how amusing it is to find new words to beg her uncles to explain to her.

Winter is fun indeed.

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

Complexities Unknowable- Chapter 4

Ao3, chapters  1   2   3   5,  MasterPost

Relationships: Deintruality, background Analogince

The plot of this was lowkey destroyed because apparently Patton and Janus are already somft, but that’s fine. I will continue to call Janus ‘Deceit’ throughout this entire fic to maintain consistency, just so you know. Also, this one’s a long boy, so strap in.

Warnings: Descriptions of gore/body horror (Remus stuff, nothing super bad), swearing, all sympathetic sides, lack of sleep, light arguing, food mention.

Word Count: 2,536

“Did he come back this morning? What did he say?”

“He didn’t do anything bad. Well, nothing super bad. I’m kinda getting used to it.”

“That’s worse!” Virgil was perched on the arm of the couch, staring up at Patton with troubled eyes. Beside him Roman and Logan sat together, the latter looking much less invested in the argument (though he was letting Virgil fidget with his fingers so as to avoid picking apart the threads of his hoodie). 

“It’s not so bad. I think he’s just looking for someone to talk to!” Well, it was like that by now. Patton knew that that wasn’t how it started. It had been about two and a half weeks since Remus had first started popping up to meet Patton before breakfast, and he’d grown quite accustomed to it. Deceit often showed up at night, but his schedule was more sporadic. They did their best to upset him, but the emotional side refused to be mean, no matter what they did! 

But then he’d found that, as their interactions continued, they got much less distressing. They were something else entirely. Odd enough that Patton couldn’t keep himself from telling his family any longer.

“Just ignore him; he’ll get bored.” Roman said tiredly.

“True; if you want them to stop bothering you, it’s best to just not give the two any attention,” Logan added, prompting Roman to give a proud little smile and hum. 

Patton shifted, taking a moment to respond. He wasn’t sure he wanted them to stop bothering him.

Remus grinned at Morality for the second day in a row as he walked into the kitchen. Today, his hand was pressed firmly against the hot stove, skin bubbling in plain view. 

“Oh! You’re back!” Patton forced a smile as he watched Remus nod and remove his red, blistering hand from the burner and heal himself instantly. 

“Yup! Happy to see me?”

Patton  inhaled deeply, pressing his hands against his face. Though his eyes were covered, he could hear Remus giggling to himself.

“Can I- Can I help you with something?” 

The Dark Side seemed to mull the question over for a moment, and then placed his hand back down on the active burner and shrugged. After getting bored with the stove trick, he sat up and grabbed a knife from the block and stabbed it down between each of his fingers repetitively. Patton stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do. In his own kitchen.

You know what? If Remus wanted to hang around while he made breakfast, then the more the merrier! Morality decided he could ignore the occasional tearing sound of a knife on flesh, putting on the coffee pot for when Logan and Virgil eventually woke up. 

He continued on for a while, making pancakes in relative silence. Until his company got bored. 

“Why do you do this every morning?”

“Make breakfast?” 

Remus nodded.

“I do it because it’s nice to do something nice for the other sides.”

“Yeah, but why?”

“They’re my family,” Patton answered with a smile. The Duke seemed to toss the answer around in his head for a minute.

“I mean, I can see how they’re each other’s family, cuz they’re fucking- what makes them your family, then?”

They’re sides like me, he could’ve said, but caught himself. We care about each other, was another answer that probably wouldn’t be great. So he didn’t say anything, faking distraction.

“If you were me,” Remus continued, voice dipping, “You’d know that family means a whole lot of nothing.”

The statement had that odd quality of recitation. He was quoting someone. The usual energy with which The Duke spoke was diminished, but before Patton could ask anything about it, footsteps rushed down the stairs and Remus was gone in a blink. 

Part of him was happy that they’d grown on him- because it proved that he wasn’t nasty or mean- but a much larger part was very, very guilty. He was so sure that they were that they were the mean ones, but now he couldn’t tell. He’d been wrong before.

Patton loved his ‘family’, he really did, but not the way they did each other. Truth be told, he’d also been looking for someone to talk to. 

“You’re back,” Patton acknowledged, his eyes barely open. Deceit didn’t look even a twinge sleepy, dressed as formally as he ever was and sitting with perfect posture. This was the fourth time.

“Don’t sound too excited, Morality,”

“Why are you here, again?” 

“Oh, I’m wounded. I can’t just stop by to see my favorite side?” 

Deceit had seemingly recovered from whatever had him acting less cruel in their previous interactions, but Patton couldn’t say that he was surprised. He wasn’t an idiot. If this was the game they were playing, then fine. Fine.

He paused the episode of Steven Universe he was rewatching and clicked back to The Good Place. It was the episode they’d left off on a few nights before. 

“What are you doing?” Deceit sounded surprised. Patton shot him a look.

“I’m putting on something we both like. It’s considerate. And don’t worry, I didn’t watch it without you.”

The reptilian beside him scoffed, but he didn’t say anything, so. Point for Patton.

They got through a full episode before Deceit spoke up again, pretending to inspect his nails through his gloves. 

“You’ve got quite the healthy sleep schedule.”

“You’re up too,” was the nicest way Morality could think to phrase, you’re one to talk, jerk.

“I have the self-respect to sleep in late. I absolutely abhor the nighttime, but I’m guessing you’ve got another reason being up so late. Isn’t that right?”

Patton paused the show. 

“You really wanna know?”

“Please, enlighten me.”

The goal here, it seemed, was to upset and confuse. And the best way to trip up deception was by being honest, truly and completely.

“I just need to not think. Just for a little while. It’s so hard not to think about all the not-great things I’ve done,” he’d never told anyone how bad it got at night. Maybe that’s what made it so easy to tell Deceit, to get some of the pressure off his shoulders with someone that wouldn’t look at him so pityingly. It was good to tell someone who wouldn’t care.

It was a while before Deceit replied.

“That was the first true thing you’ve said to me, I think. I suppose I should return the favor-” And Deceit looked at him, completely understanding, “Since you were so surprised to learn we found you unpleasant, Remus and I decided to show you why that was. In a way. But maybe that’s not what either of us need.”

Patton finally glanced up, eyes wide. The fact that it was some malicious plot was unsurprising. The second statement was both surprising and confusing. But Deceit wasn’t meeting his eyes, and it was far too late to try to pry anything more out of him. So they just watched TV. Together.

“Pat?”

Virgil’s voice broke him from his thoughts. Patton made sure that he was smiling before he looked up.

“Is there something you aren’t telling us? You’re kinda radiating anxiety right now, buddy,” Virgil’s face darkened, “Did they do something to you? So you won’t-”

“Or can’t,” Roman added.

“-Or can’t ask for help?” 

Patton appreciated the concern, but he couldn’t help it if the insinuation that they would control him made him wince a disgustedly. How could they really think that Deceit or Remus would do that? (he was pointedly ignoring the part of himself that thought they did things like that less than a month ago.)

That morning, when Remus swung down from the top of the fridge in his kraken-like form, Patton hardly blinked. He yawned, in fact, smiling sleepily. 

“G’morning.” 

Remus picked himself up off the floor and shapeshifted into his usual appearance, pouting. 

“Aww, you’re desensitized.”

To be fair, he’d done this every morning for the past two weeks. Patton was quite used to the company, but he still threw his hands up and gave a very fake scream for Remus’ sake. That turned Creativity’s expression right around to a grin and he bounced his shoulders in a laugh. It was oddly cute.

“Hey, I like this,” Remus announced, bending back the prongs of a fork. Morality smiled to cover up that he had no clue how to respond. He almost thought it was some kind of lure, and he wasn’t losing whatever this game was to them. But, Deceit had implied that whatever plan they had was disbanded. But Deceit was Deceit! But that moment had seemed so sincere, and honestly, he wanted to like this too-

“Your eggs are burning,” said Remus, right against his ear. Patton startled at the sudden proximity, and also at the fact that he was totally botching breakfast. Family breakfast.

“Shucks- Thanks-” he hastily took the pan off the heat, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, but you might not like the answer,” The Duke warned, likely having no idea what Patton was going to ask about but knowing it was applicable regardless.

“Why do you always leave when the others wake up?”

He scrunched up his face, pausing whatever it was he was doing with a spare handful of forks. Morality had noticed that his various disturbing activities had gradually gotten a lot less deliberately upsetting and a lot more like he was just trying to keep his hands busy while chatting. 

“‘Shucks’ is just a combination of shit and fuck,” he said instead of answering. 

“Language!” 

Patton let him change the subject; it wasn’t his business, anyway. Remus cackled- part relief but mostly genuine amusement- and carried on as though nothing had happened. Morality listened to him ramble, and looked over when Creativity wanted to show him some piece of art or his rapidly expanding silverware sculpture. Eventually, when footsteps filled the house and Remus was gone, Patton noticed an aching pain in his face. He quickly realized it hurt from how wide his smile had been.

Oh- maybe ‘desensitized’ wasn’t the right word for how he felt about the Dark Sides.

Morality was going to defend Remus and Deceit. Just like he’d defended Virgil to the others all those years ago, before everything (funny, that, and how the three of them ended up together. Maybe if traits listened to him more, they’d see he ended up right sometimes. And Patton hoped- believed- he was right about this).

“I don’t need help, and they didn’t hurt me! Honestly, they may be a little eccentric, but they aren’t… evil.” 

Three sides gazed incredulously at Patton. He couldn’t blame them, for as soon as he said it he could only hear it as something someone else would be telling him. He remained unwavering regardless.

“Well, of course they aren’t; they are sides of Thomas like the rest of us, and naturally they strive to do what they think is best for him. But, their methods and wants are unrealistic at best and extremist at worst, so it is fair that we’d be concerned.”  

Virgil grumbled low in his throat, looking slightly mollified. 

“I- well- yeah, I just don’t want Patton getting in over his head.”

“What now?”

It was the first night since their last weirdly emotional conversation, and though Remus showed up everyday, Morality had almost thought it was the last he’d seen of Deceit. He was relieved it wasn’t, and his question really wasn’t meant to come out that way.

“You totally don’t just have to ask me to leave. It’s not like I’m no longer here on false pretenses- wait, not no longer- I confused myself,” while he was trying to parse out his own words, Patton let out a slightly surprised laugh. 

“No, it’s alright, I- um, I’m used to you guys being around.” 

The inaccuracy of the word “desensitized” once again flashed in his mind as he saw Deceit tamp down a smile, barely hiding the way his fangs peeked out. 

“Well, I still haven’t seen the series finale of The Good Place, so I might as well stay,” he drawled in feigned indifference. 

“The show just wouldn’t be the same without your running commentary,” Patton playfully nudged the liar’s shoulder.

They watched half of season four in one sitting. 

Patton ran a hand down his face and groaned, earning a concerned look from his best friend. 

“I’ll tell you if I need help, I promise. But I need you to trust me that, right now, I’m okay.”

“I trust you,” Virgil replied without hesitation, “It’s them I don’t trust.”

“Well, why not?” 

Logan and Roman exchanged knowing looks while Anxiety tensed his shoulders. He huffed, eyes downcast.

“I mean… it’s not exactly a secret that I didn’t leave on great terms. I wouldn’t be surprised if they still had it out for, like, all of us, due to association. Especially considering-” he gestured to Roman, who gave a solemn nod. Patton briefly reflected on the terrible fact that nobody in his life could communicate effectively (including himself (wow, maybe some of Deceit’s bitterness was rubbing off on him)). 

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take if it means there’s a chance that we’ll all come out of this for the better!” At this point it was unlikely that there was any risk, but arguing with his family made his head hurt.

“If you think you can get them to be cooperative, then I’m all for it. Our current state isn’t exactly sustainable in the long term, so we’d better resolve the issue sooner rather than later,” Logan said.

“It would be nice to not have to worry about those guys all the time, I guess. If you really think you can get them under control,” Virgil shifted uncomfortably. 

“Yes- but if they do get out of hand, I will take care of them for you, Padre!” Roman flew to his feet with a self-assured smirk, eyes blazing like he could see the scene before him as he summoned his sword. 

“That...  is very sweet. I’ll keep that in mind, Ro,” Morality gently patted his arm, subtly trying to guide the sword out of its path of destruction. 

As the conversation lulled, Patton made his escape, calling out an excuse of making lunch. 

As Patton tidied his work space, his eyes flicked over the counters. He spotted a disheveled black sketchbook that lay forgotten by the stove, its cover swallowed by stickers and doodles which were unmistakably Remus’. 

That morning, The Duke had wandered in and pushed himself up onto the counter, holding out his sketchbook wordlessly, a smile on his face. It was routine by that point, but Patton was still ecstatic every time he got to see the art. While it was horrifying almost all the time, his love of drawing overpowered his disgust and he couldn’t help but shower the pictures with compliments (seeing the way Remus’ usual manic expression softened with appreciation was also a bonus).

After peeking his head around the corner to ensure that the rest of the sides were sufficiently distracted, Patton grabbed the lost leatherbound book and sank out to return it. 

Taglist:

@deceits-left-glove​ @princemesscharming @shrimp-crockpot

[whumperooni]

Imagine being such a perfect little angel for papa enji. Always taking care of him. Scrubbing him when he’s in the bath, rubbing his shoulders and drying him off when he gets out the bath. Maybe you even stroke his cock when he’s in there. When you go out with your friends for lunch, you always bring him something back like his favourite cake or something. You make sure he has dinner ready for him when he comes home, sitting in his lap and bouncing on his cock slowly as he eats. Sucking him off after a long day being a hero. Telling Daddy how much you love him, how you’ll always be his as he looks at you with a look that only a father can give his little girl. You always make sure his hero costume is clean and ready for work. You always do as daddy says and he loves his little girl for it 😭😭

Please this makes me so somft ♡

tags/warnings: tw incest, blowjobs, a touch of somft, tw grooming

♡♡♡♡♡

“Daddy, wait! I made you lunch!” Enji blinks and pauses in the doorway, head turning back to find his little girl bounding over to him. You’re still dressed in your bedclothes- a thin, silky nightgown and fuzzy slippers, a robe that’s slipped off your shoulder- and Enji huffs at that, huffs at the sleep that’s still written all over your face. You press a bento box into his hands and a kiss to his cheek- one that he returns with a grunt whenever you peer up at him with expectant, drowsy eyes. “Have a good day at work, daddy! I love you!” “I love you too, little one.”

➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺ “Aw, Endeavor, did your little girl make that for you? How cute.” Enji grunts and he shoulders away Hawks when the boy peers over his shoulder, ignores the pout that pops up on the hero’s face. “You’re so lucky! I want someone to make me lunch,” Hawks whines, trying to creep his hand over Enji’s other shoulder to grab the food. Enji scowls and he shoulders the boy away, finds himself curling protectively around his lunch as feathers begin to shiver. “Hey, come on- let me try a bite!” “No.” “You’re so stingy! That’s not befitting of the number one hero, ya know!” “You have your own lunch,” Enji points out in a snap. “Not one made with love and care! C’mon- just one bite!” “I said no.” Hawks huffs and he plops down next to Enji- crowding his space like he always does, obnoxious wings beating against Enji’s back and making him huff. A little smirk plays across the flame hero’s face as he watches the boy unwrap a store bought sandwich and the usual annoyance of crinkling cellophane goes unnoticed as Enji takes a bite of karaage. It’s delicious- as usual- and Enji smiles as he slowly eats the lunch his daughter had so lovingly prepared for him. ➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺ Hero work is good work- honorable work- but it leads to very long days. Enji is tired by the time he gets home- weary from a day full of catching bad guys and filing endless paperwork, dealing with the expectations of the public and the burden of self-righteousness. You greet him when he gets home as always- a tumbler of bourbon in your hands neat and so welcome, a smile on your face. The kiss you press to his cheek is soft and sweet and Enji hums as he returns it- lips brushing just against the corner of yours. “Daddy, how was your day?” “It was fine.” You nod, accepting that, and follow after him as he heads toward the den- your soft footsteps lost under the sounds of his thundering ones. Enji sits himself in his armchair and you take your rightful place on his lap- hand lightly landing on his chest and your gaze fond as you watch him take a drink. “I made udon tonight, daddy,” you tell him, hand working up to loosen his tie and undo one button, two. Enji hums as your fingers stroke over the scarred, bared flesh of his chest and takes another drink, allows his lashes to lower. “But I can draw you a bath first if you want to relax before dinner.” A bath does sound good- it’s just what he needs to unwind after a long day. “I’d like that, little one.” Your face lights up and you nod- only getting up after you press another adoring kiss to his cheek. Enji watches you leave- dress swishing along your thighs- and he slowly drains the rest of his bourbon, allows himself to relax in the comfort of his home. He has such a good daughter. It’s such a shame that the others can’t be like you. ➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺ “Is it warm enough, daddy?” Enji hums in response- eyes opening and flitting to the side to drink in the sight of you knelt by the bathtub. You have a smile on your face- soft and content- and your hands are just as soft as they run over his body, wash him off with a gentle touch. No one else has ever treated him the way you do- with pure admiration and respect, a never-ending love and a sweet, subservient adoration. You treat him kindly, wonderfully and he knows deep in his heart that he doesn’t deserve it. He accepts it all the same, though. “I’m going to do the shopping tomorrow,” you murmur- fingers kneading along his bicep and working up to his shoulders. You rise, just slightly, with it and Enji’s eyes draw half-shut as your bosom presses against him. “Can I pick anything up for you?” “No, but I need my suit taken to the dry cleaners.” “The navy one? I’ll drop it off.” Enji nods and you hum softly, press against him more as you reach over to his other shoulder. He enjoys your gentle ministrations and he relaxes under your touch, relaxes more when your nails gently scratch through the hair at the base of his skull. “Daddy, do you want me to shave you tonight?” you ask, fingers glancing along his jaw and over the stubble gathered there. “I sharpened your straight razor.”

Enji considers the idea- he does enjoy it; he enjoys the intimacy of the moment, the look of concentration that graces your face, and how you touch him as if you’re afraid that you’ll hurt him- as if you somehow truly believe that your tiny hands could possibly do harm to your six and a half feet tall, built like a brick house, number one hero father. It’s amusing, really.

You’re amusing. “You can do it in the morning,” Enji decides on, leaning back against the bath. Another hum and your hands move down over his chest, glide in slow circles to lather him up. You wash him attentively- loving and sweet with your gentle touches- and Enji nearly sighs at the quiet contentment flaring in his chest, at the fondness that he will never admit he feels out loud. Your hands work over his cock- soft and sweet- and Enji shakes his head when you look up at him, rumbles out a “later” that you simply nod at. “Okay, daddy.” You go back to washing him and Enji closes his eyes, tilts his head back and soaks in your touch, allows himself to feel satisfied over just how well he’s raised you. ➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺ “Daddy, was dinner okay?” “It was good, little one.” A smile pops onto your face and Enji nearly smiles back, hides it with a draw from his cigar. You’re perched on his lap again- dressed in his favorite nightgown, his hand on your soft thigh. You’ve taken a bath of your own and Enji can smell the scent of your shampoo, the light fragrance of your lotion. When he rubs over your thigh, your lashes flutter and his own draw half-shut whenever you curl a little closer. Such a good girl- so loving and kind, so receptive to your father. A darling daughter, a perfect little housewife for him.

You’re the last bit of kindness that Rei graced him with. He should do more for her, thank her more sincerely for gifting him with a beautiful daughter to dote and protect, cherish and fuck and use to soothe all the stress of his career, your less ideal siblings.

Enji takes another draw from his cigar and he squeezes the plush flesh of your hip, relaxes back into the chair as his cock stirs. “Little one.” A blink, a smile up at him, a soft little hum and a brush of your thighs. You nuzzle against him and the soft “yes, daddy?” you let out sets something hungry in his chest, hardens his cock to full mast. “Take care of daddy,” he tells you- casual, eyes running over you and flicking away as he ashes his cigar. “Put your pretty mouth to work.” A tiny noise bubbles from your throat and you nod- lips pressing to his jaw before you slide off Enji’s lap and onto your knees. When his legs part, you shuffle forward and Enji watches as you tuck your hair behind your ear, takes a puff from his cigar when your hands smooth over his thighs and deftly take out his cock. The lick you give has him exhaling deeply and Enji reaches down to pet over your hair as you place open mouthed kisses to his cock, brushes a few strands from your face. You nuzzle into his palm just for a moment- adoring and sweet- and Enji hums when your soft lips graze over the head of his cock, part wider to take him into your mouth. “Good girl.” Lashes fluttering, you mewl around him and Enji soaks in the way your cheeks flush, the way your tongue flicks across his head as you pull off to look up at him an adoring gaze. “I love you daddy,” you whisper- hand wrapping around his cock. “I love you too, little one.” Smiling, you take his cock back into your mouth and Enji’s fingers curl into your hair, his lips flicker with a smile as his sweet daughter swallows him down all the way to the base, lifts a hand to gently rub his balls. Enji smokes and he slowly pets over his daughter’s hair- utterly relaxed and completely content as you take care of your father in the only way a good daughter can.

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[dapandapod]

Cold dinners and long days

This one is for beloved @jaskierswolf because I want to, and because sometimes we all need some somft. Please enjoy some enby!Jaskier and sweater-stealing Dandelion just being somft. <3

And as always, beta read by my darling @kuripon.

On Ao3 here

Jaskier has had a very long day. They love their job, but ugh, sometimes it is just so draining. The worst part about being an adult, they complain to Dandelion when they lie together in bed on the weekends.

Dandelion would thread his fingers through Jaskier’s hair, twisting and braiding and playing with the soft and all too short strands. Jaskier would always melt, resting their head in Dandelion’s lap as they hum together.

That is why they are so eager to get home tonight. Dandelion has sent at least three pictures already, wearing the knitted sweater he steals all the time that is actually Jaskier’s , blond curls draping over his shoulder as he hides in the neckline of it. It’s adorable, and a pang of longing shoots through them.

Fuck, they just want to go home. They just want to cuddle up to Dandelion and watch a bad movie.

When Jaskier opens the door from the flat, they can hear Dandelion talking somewhere inside. They kick off their shoes and throw the bag on the floor.

“Yeah, they should be home any minute now.” Jaskier hears Dandelion say. “Yes, Geralt, I know where the box is. Jeez, you are more nervous than I am.”

What? What are they up to now? Jaskier’s heart makes a little flip.

“I’m hooome,” they call, and they can hear Dandelion scramble in another room.

“Shit, they’re here, gotta go. Yes, of course I will. No, hush, shut up Geralt,” Dandelion hisses and then he appears in the doorway, looking slightly guilty and tossing the phone carelessly behind him.

“Hello, Jask love,” Dandelion says quietly, and Jaskier just melts. He is indeed still wearing that knitted sweater and his hair is all loose and all of today’s heavy feelings just… they don’t disappear but they take a big step into the background.

“Hi,” Jaskier says, and then they find themselves wrapped up in a big hug.

“Long day?” Dandelion asks, kissing their temple.

“The longest.” Jaskier sighs, hiding their face in Dandelion’s neck.

“Were you talking to Geralt just now?”

Jaskier feels Dandelion tense around him and Jaskier smirks. Got him.

“Yep,” he says, voice a little strained, the way he sounds when he is holding something back but really, really wants to talk about it.

“What did he want?” Jaskier asks; they can’t help but to tease.

“Just uh… He wanted help with Roach?”

“What’s wrong with her?” Jaskier asks, hiding their smile by nuzzling deeper into the crook of Dandelion's neck.

“Nothing, he uh.. he just wanted help?” Dandelion says, and oh, he is such a bad liar. Actor, sure, a great actor. But a good liar, that he is not.

Jaskier decides to stop torturing him and pulls back.

“Do we still have oreos? I could really use some oreos right now,” they say, strolling into the kitchen. And then stops dead in their tracks.

On the table, there are candles, napkins folded into birds, more candles, a big bouquet of roses, and did they say candles?

“Oh,” they say, eyes wide, and Dandelion comes up behind them, wrapping his arms around them.

“Surprise,” he whispers in their ear, and they shiver, just a little. “I have something else for you as well.”

Dandelion lets them go and disappears into their bedroom. There is some shuffling, and then they can hear Dandelion’s soft steps returning.

“Turn around for me?”

Jaskier turns so that their back is towards Dandelion. There is some more shuffling and some creaking knees.

“Alright, you can look.”

Jaskier’s heart is beating out of their chest, nervous flutters running all the way out their fingertips. Gods, is this really happening? Jaskier turns, and indeed, there is Dandelion on the floor, kneeling on one knee and holding up a small velvet box.

“You know I am shit at keeping secrets.” Dandelion smiles, and Jaskier makes a broken sound.

“Fuck.”

“I thought I should just do this now, or I won’t be able to function at all. Jaskier. I-” Dandelion draws in a breath and blinks hard a few times.

“Julek.”

Yep, yup, Jaskier also has to blink hard, but the tears still spring up. Holy macaroni, this is really happening. Fuck.

“Julek, you are the light of my life. I can’t, no, I refuse, to imagine a single day without you in it. You have the best taste in sweaters and nail polish-” Jaskier snorts through the tears and Dandelion smiles. “and your smile, oh, Jaskier, your smile makes my heart race.”

Jaskier can’t help it, they have to put a hand in front of their mouth to muffle the little sounds that really want to get out.

“Will you marry me?” Dandelion barely gets the question out before Jaskier is over him, throwing their arms around his neck.

“Yes, you absolute sap, you,” Jaskier sobs as they fall to the floor, the ring box clattering on the floor, rolling under a nearby cabinet.

“Shit, no, the rings!” Jaskier sniffles.

They laugh together, share a kiss, and then they just roll to their sides trying to fish out the little velvet box that, of course, went into the furthest corner.

“Geralt will be so mad at me if we lose it,” Dandelion says, laughing. Jaskier has to stop and just look at him for a moment.

“You are so beautiful,” they breathe.

“You are going to make me cry again,” Dandelion mutters, and then he makes contact with the small box. “A hah!”

They lean back towards the cabinets, legs tangled together and dust bunnies clinging to their shirts. Dandelion puts the ring on Jaskier’s finger, and they put the matching ring on him.

They are so wrapped up in each other that dinner gets cold, but that is alright.

Nights on the floor with each other are worth all the cold dinners and long days in the world.

[slashersins]

Wait this is a little less nsfw and more soft but you’re getting in the mood with Jason but he stops and stares at you, taking you in, rubbing his hands on your sides. Like, he doesn’t even want sex anymore he just wants to look at you ❤️🥺

god i fucking love this . like so fucking much just , fuck me up with the somft 

Wait this is a little less nsfw and more soft but you’re getting in the mood with Jason but he stops and stares at you, taking you in, rubbing his hands on your sides. Like, he doesn’t even want sex anymore he just wants to look at you ❤️🥺

there’s not a day that goes by that jason isn’t awed by you . sometimes it’s more obvious , Jason’s far away look . how he doesn’t move it breathe , just taking you in , memorizing every part of you he can in the case you’re out of his sight for longer than five minutes . sometimes you don’t notice at all , or maybe you’ve slowly grown accustomed to jason’s gentle gaze falling to you . but other times looking isn’t enough .

he always seems to catch you off guard , never startling you , but surprising you by his quiet approach . you know by how he gently glides the back of masked fingers over your arm that he wants to touch , to explore , to relearn every inch of you . and oh , how could you ever refuse him when he seeks your consent in such a shy way ?

it only ever takes a quick nod or soft , flustered yes and jason is removing his gloves , standing so close as he shyly brushes his cold finger tips to your skin . your eyes , your cheeks , cute nose , your ears , your chin and neck . every spot is traced , eyes softening at just how beautiful you are . and how he is so lucky that you chose him . you could have had the world and yet it was his touch that you sighed into right now , lips parting as you let out a soft noise . content and happy .

once he’s satisfied , you’re face memorized by heart he starts again, a bit lower . his touch moved under the neck line of your shirt , wanting to touch over your clavicles and down to till he could stroke very rib . you laugh , shaking your head as you pull back long enough to get rid of your shirt , and smile back , telling him to keep going .

his eyes travel with his fingers . now having free access to your chest he thumbs over your nipples , almost like an after thought . as pretty and cute as they were , jason didn’t want distractions . he was on a mission . every rip is stoked, ran over , counted . And then he’s pulling you into his lap , resting his masked face in your shoulder as he moved deft hands over your back . you tried to give him back rubs , shoulder subs , all the time . and now he wasn’t waiting for asking when he decided to return the favor .

there’s only the sound of nature and soft sighs and small groans as jason cups your calf , giving it a squeeze as he slowly runs his hands up to your thighs . so soft . he lets out a sigh of longing , nuzzling into the top of your left thigh with his mask . can you tell ? do you understand how much he adores you ? how beautiful you are ? he hopes so .

the very last thing he chooses to explore are your hands . so small , so warm . long dainty fingers , and so soft that he can’t nearly undone when you brushed by him , patting his chest playfully .

it’s hours . hours of jason relearning you . Soft and sweet .