#it looks like its movements would be smooth/fluid like. barely making a sound

[pointyfruit]

WWWAAOOOWAAAOOWAAOWAOAWAIAIIWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWAOWAOWAOWAOWAWOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWAWAWAWAWAAAAAWOWWWOWIWIWWOWIIOWOWIWWIW IIIDD GLFGOGOMGFRDHIEKS I LOBE EITT WAOOWAOWAWAOWAOWAOWAIWAIWAIWAOWAOWAOWAOAWAAAAAAAAA i would so play this

Got Little Nightmares brainrot the other day and this idea was born...

Edit I forgot to include: little info on Moon if he was a LN monster hehe. The stars on his pants and hat camouflage him pretty well in the fog full of levitating fake stars; thin and lanky body is hard to see. The endless limbs help him climb and jump from bed to bed, find awake children and punish them. The star on the tip of his hat is meant to be a reference to anglerfish - you don't see him until it's too late :)

[frostdayz]

Loving in green

Loki x Reader (f! reader)

Genre: Fluff with borderline "smut"

Summary: Loki cant seem to keep his hands off you when he finally sees you wearing his favorite color, green.

warnings: a mimi steamy make out, loki getting horny from seeing green cus he's a freak

my stories never really describe the readers gender so unless stated otherwise all my stories are gn!!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The moment I slipped into the dress, I felt a shiver of anticipation ripple through me. The deep emerald fabric clung to my curves, the shade so rich it seemed to glow, almost as if it were alive with its own magic. I had chosen this dress with care, knowing it would draw his attention like nothing else. Green—the color of his magic, his essence, his very soul. It was a bold choice, but I wanted to see his reaction, to feel the intensity of his gaze on me.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself as I checked my reflection in the mirror one last time. My hair fell in loose waves around my shoulders, and I had kept my makeup simple, letting the dress speak for itself. I knew what this color did to him, how it stirred something primal in him. A part of me was nervous, but another part—perhaps the braver, more reckless part—was excited.

I walked out of the bedroom, my heart pounding in my chest. The long corridor leading to the sitting room seemed endless, each step heightening my anticipation. I could feel the soft fabric of the dress brushing against my skin, reminding me of the decision I had made. When I reached the doorway, I paused for a moment, gathering my courage before stepping inside.

There he was, standing by the window with his back to me, gazing out at the night sky. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the lamps casting shadows on the walls. The sight of him, so tall and commanding, sent a familiar warmth spreading through me. I took a breath and walked toward him, my heels clicking softly against the polished floor.

He turned at the sound, his movements graceful and fluid, as if he had sensed my presence the moment I entered the room. His eyes found mine first, and then they traveled down, taking in the sight of me in that dress. For a moment, his expression was unreadable, but then something flickered in his eyes—something dark and hungry.

“Green,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, like the purr of a predator. “You’re wearing green.”

I nodded, suddenly feeling shy under the intensity of his gaze. “I thought you might like it.”

He crossed the room in a few long strides, closing the distance between us in an instant. Before I could say another word, his hands were on me, pulling me close. The touch of his fingers against the smooth fabric sent a thrill through me, and I gasped as he pressed me against him, his body hard and warm.

“I don’t just like it,” he growled, his lips brushing against my ear. “I love it.”

His hands roamed over my back, his touch possessive, as if he couldn’t get enough of me. He buried his face in my hair, inhaling deeply, his breath hot against my neck. I could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding himself back, barely restraining the desire that was burning between us.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he whispered, his voice rough with need. His hands slid down to my waist, gripping me tightly as he pulled me even closer.

I looked up at him, my heart racing. “Show me,” I whispered back, my voice trembling with anticipation.

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, I thought he might lose control right then and there. But instead, he cupped my face in his hands, his touch suddenly gentle, almost reverent. He stared down at me, his gaze searching mine as if he were looking for something, some sign that I wanted this as much as he did.

And I did. More than anything.

Without another word, he leaned in and captured my lips in a searing kiss. The world around us seemed to vanish as his mouth moved against mine, hungry and demanding. I wrapped my arms around his neck, clinging to him as the kiss deepened, his hands tangling in my hair, pulling me even closer.

When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing heavily, our foreheads pressed together. His eyes were filled with a fierce, almost possessive intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. “You are mine,” he whispered, his voice filled with a quiet but undeniable authority.

I nodded, unable to find my voice. I had never seen him like this—so completely unguarded, so utterly consumed by desire. The sight of him, the feel of him against me, was intoxicating. I felt as though I were drowning in him, in the overwhelming force of his need.

He trailed kisses down my neck, his lips grazing my skin, sending sparks of pleasure through me. His hands roamed over my body, exploring every curve, every inch of exposed skin, as if he were trying to memorize the feel of me beneath his fingers. I could feel his breath against my skin, hot and heavy, as he murmured words of adoration and desire in my ear.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “So beautiful aren't you my girl?”

His lips found mine again, and this time the kiss was softer, more tender, but no less intense. He held me close, as if he were afraid I might disappear if he let go. And in that moment, I knew that I was his—completely and utterly his.

And I knew, too, that he was mine.

[dark-and-kawaii]

༺ 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓌𝓁 ༻

Astarion can’t get over his lust for tav, she’s sleeping but he can’t resist.

Slight NSFW - Blood

His tongue glides over one of his fangs as his thoughts start to drift, the feeling of your body submitting to him, your oh so sweet whimpers that turn into blissful moans… And gods the way your spine curved up pressing your breasts into his chest as he gorged upon your neck. His jaw clenched, it was as if your veins ran with ichor… A goddess ready to be consumed by himself and only him, you were a gift to him he knows it. Perhaps this was his reward for surviving 200 years under Cazador.

Right at this moment you looked like a sacrificial lamb, the fires light dances across your smooth skin, your loose underwear straps were crawling down your arm every time you moved. Your breathing labored. This was all starting to become far too much for the spawn, Astarion could feel his ice cold body begin to warm just as a drug like high fills his mind.

It felt as if chains were wrapped around your limbs and struggling proved futile… The air felt like it was slowly dissipating around you, mind hazy while your head shakes back and forth as if begging for whatever was holding you down to stop. Panic rose in your chest, your dreams turning to a nightmare, you were running trying to escape the darkness that started to cloak your vision. A vision of your dream visitor appears before you in your nightmare, they were holding their hand out to you, offering to help you find an escape. Just as your hands touch theirs your eyes open…

There in the dimly lit forest you see him, Astarion. His head is between your legs, your one leg propped over his shoulder while the glow of the fire shines off his fangs. At first you’re unaware if he’s already bitten you, it’s not until you feel warmth trail down to your clothed groin, he’s already taken what he believes is his.

“A-Astarion” your arms attempt to lift to his shoulders, you try to push him away so you can speak to him, but it proves futile. He’s taken so much from you already yet he can feel your struggles. Lifting his head from between your legs he greets your eyes with pure benevolence, knowing this look would deceive you, “Yes, love?” is all he can conjure up before sliding his tongue down your thigh as he laps up the blood that’s found its way down to your sex.

“When I ascend I’ll turn you, little dove. That way-“ Astarion kisses your inner thigh, “that way any damage I inflict on you can heal with ease.” His voice was velvety, “But first, I have another craving to satisfy.”

Mouth curving into a feral sort of snarl, fangs protruding from his jaw and his teeth running over their sharp points, Astarion lowers his head back to your inner thigh. He sinks his teeth into your upper thigh, the heat from your sex radiates off his cheek while thick hot blood runs into his mouth and seeps out… Your vital fluid makes his bloodlust hasten..

A steady stream running down onto the ground… As more of your blood flooded his mouth, the weaker you became… Still though, you believed you could trust him and you let yourself melt into him, “As-Astarion,” His name came out as a begged moan, yet you sounded like you were barely still here on this plane.

Your shaky voice was the only thing that could ever break his trance, pulling him back to reality that you very well could die if he goes too far. He isn’t a true vampire, yet. He couldn’t bring you back should he mess up. With his teeth still pierced into your flesh he could feel your pulse weakening, he knew it was time to stop, if only for a moment.

Smearing the blood on his index finger, Astarion lifted the warm substance to his lips; the intoxicating sweetness hitting every taste bud.

“I- you know I’d never mean to kill you.” He rested his head on your thigh that wasn’t propped over his shoulder. Besides the crackling of the fire, you both laid there in silence for only but a moment until in one swift movement, Astarion sheds his clothing. His rapid movements had you pinned down before you could even blink. His perfectly toned body loomed over you.

“I trust you,” You could feel some strength return to you, enough to be able to slide a loose strand of his white hair behind his pointed ear, your gracious smile putting him at ease.

Astartion’s lips met yours in a passionate kiss, savoring the taste of his saliva you could taste specs of your own blood. Hands running through each other’s hair as the kiss became more forceful, teeth scraping against teeth, tongues mingling in the very deepest depths of one another’s mouths, and your blood continuously dripping from your bite wound. Struggling to sit upright, to put your arms around his chest, you felt the power behind him pinning you down, keeping you incapable of moving.

Breaking the kiss, Astarion looked like he did the first time he ever tasted you, ravenous, hungry, his pants deep as his chest rises and falls, “Dove, let me take care of you, trust that I won't stray too far.” He kisses the top of your hand, foreshadowing what's to come if you allow him to ascend… Tonight you bask in his embrace, his sweet words, ignoring the dreadful feeling deep within your gut…

[zeroseuniverse]

Dance of Familiarity

Word Count: 1.4K Summary: “You... should’ve let me die,” he managed, his voice rasping with pain. “Not a chance,” She said, her hands working quickly to apply pressure to the wound, staving off the worst of it. “You’re not getting off that easy.” Pairing: Hyunjin X Fem Reader

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

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The neon-lit city hummed with a pulse of danger, its streets lined with shadows and secrets. Beneath the buzz of illegal deals and whispered alliances, a storm was brewing—one that would threaten to unravel the delicate balance of power.

She had always prided herself on staying out of the underworld’s mess. A bounty hunter for hire, she’d worked the fringes, always calculating, always detached. Her reputation was built on precision, taking down targets with a mix of skill and efficiency. No emotions, no attachments—just the job.

But tonight was different. The contract she’d accepted felt... off, like a wrong turn down an unfamiliar alley. The target was a rogue assassin, someone who had been dismantling high-profile crime lords like clockwork, leaving bodies in his wake. No one knew his name. No one knew his face. All she knew was the trail of chaos he left behind, each kill more graceful than the last.

The job was simple—or so it seemed. Track him, kill him.

She had followed the breadcrumbs to a run down warehouse at the edge of the city, the scent of rust and rot in the air. Her eyes scanned the area, picking out every detail, every movement. She’d been hunting killers long enough to know when things didn't feel right.

The moment she stepped into the building, the air shifted—like the world had held its breath.

She’d barely noticed the shadow darting across the rafters above, a quick movement almost too fluid to track. Before she could react, a blur of motion descended, and she was face to face with the one person she never expected: the rogue assassin.

Hyunjin stood still, his backlit figure framed by the dim light filtering through the cracked windows. His eyes locked onto theirs, the faintest flicker of recognition crossing his face, though whether it was curiosity or something else, she couldn’t tell.

"Didn't expect company," Hyunjin’s voice was smooth, like velvet, yet laced with danger.

Her grip tightened on her weapon, but she didn't fire. Not yet. This wasn't just any target. There was something about Hyunjin—something different.

"You've been killing our clients,"She said, her voice steady, betraying nothing of the storm brewing beneath her calm exterior. "I’m here to put an end to that."

Hyunjin smirked, the glint of a blade flashing in his hand, his movements a slow, deliberate dance. "I’m not your enemy. Not unless you make me one."

And in that moment, she knew this wouldn't be like any other hunt.

A deadly game of cat and mouse began, each of them testing the other’s limits, their movements a blur of precision and grace. Every strike, every counter, seemed more like an intricate performance than a fight for survival.

But the moment the ground shifted beneath their feet, they both knew they were no longer alone. A third party—rival syndicate operatives—had entered the fray.

It wasn’t about the mission anymore. It was about survival.

As the chaos erupted around them, Hyunjin offered a brief glance, the unspoken challenge clear in his eyes: “We fight together, or neither of us makes it out alive.”

For the first time in years, she hesitated, caught between the urge to fight and the strange pull of an unexpected alliance.

The sound of gunfire echoed through the crumbling warehouse, and the once tense, calculated fight between her and Hyunjin morphed into something chaotic. The rival syndicate’s operatives flooded in, their weapons drawn, intent on silencing both of them.

Hyunjin didn’t flinch. His every move was fluid and precise, as if this was nothing more than a familiar dance. But her instincts were sharper than most—she had no choice but to adapt quickly, her mind racing.

In the midst of the chaos, Hyunjin's movements began to change. Where his strikes had been lethal, now they seemed... restrained. He wasn’t going for the kill shots anymore. His every motion was a carefully calculated move to incapacitate, to subdue, and not to finish the job.

It was subtle, but she caught it—a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, a momentary look that passed too quickly to decipher.

A sudden realization hit her like a punch to the gut. Hyunjin wasn’t here to eliminate her. He wasn’t even here for the syndicate’s contract. Something deeper, more personal, was driving his every action.

But before she could process the thought, one of the rival operatives made a dangerous move—aiming directly at her.

Instinct kicked in. Hyunjin lunged forward, faster than she could react, taking the bullet meant for her. The impact sent him crashing into a stack of crates, the air thick with the sound of his breath escaping in sharp gasps.

"Hyunjin!" her voice broke through the din of the battle, her focus snapping to him. He lay there, vulnerable, blood seeping from the wound.

She rushed to his side, ignoring the gunfire still ricocheting around the warehouse. He was breathing, but barely, his hand clutching the bullet wound in his side. His face was pale, his usual cold demeanor slipping for the first time since their encounter.

“You... should’ve let me die,” he managed, his voice rasping with pain.

“Not a chance,” She said, her hands working quickly to apply pressure to the wound, staving off the worst of it. “You’re not getting off that easy.”

Hyunjin’s eyes flitted between her and the approaching enemies. “They’re coming for you next. They won’t stop until you’re—"

"Then we leave," she interrupted, her eyes flickering to the shadows as she dragged Hyunjin to his feet. "We don’t have time for this."

But as they turned to run, something struck them both at the same time—a figure in the shadows, hidden just beyond the edges of their vision. Someone had been watching the entire time, someone who shouldn’t have been there.

A woman stepped into the dim light, her eyes cold and calculating. Her features were sharp, her movements smooth like she was part of the night itself. She was dressed in black, the faint shimmer of a blade at her hip—one that seemed eerily familiar.

Y/N froze, her pulse quickening. She recognized her.

"Well, well," the woman said, her voice smooth like Hyunjin's but colder, more menacing. "You thought you were the only one tracking him down?"

Y/N’s throat went dry. The woman was no stranger. She was the one who had hired her.

"You," Y/N growled, her grip tightening on Hyunjin’s arm as realization dawned. "You set me up."

The woman’s smile was dark, almost cruel. "Not exactly. I just... provided the right incentive. You see, I don’t care who kills him. I just need him gone. But I’ll admit, the two of you working together has been... entertaining."

Hyunjin struggled against Y/N’s hold, his gaze flicking back to the woman. "You knew," he whispered, a flicker of understanding passing between them. "You knew I was dismantling your empire."

The woman’s lips curled. "And you were never meant to get this far. Hyunjin. And you," she turned her gaze to Y/N, "Well, you’re just a pawn in a much bigger game."

The realization struck Y/N like a thunderclap. The woman wasn’t a contractor. She was the one pulling the strings, the real mastermind behind everything. She had orchestrated the entire scenario—the rogue assassin, the rival syndicates, even Y/N’s involvement—just to clean up a loose end.

Everything she had believed about this mission was a lie.

The world around them tilted as Hyunjin pushed himself to his feet, his eyes locked onto the woman with burning fury. "You’ve been playing us both from the start," he said, his voice low and deadly. "But you’ve underestimated one thing."

"What’s that?" The woman arched an eyebrow.

Hyunjin smiled—a dark, dangerous smile. "I never play by the rules."

Before she could stop him, Hyunjin lunged, his movements so swift and graceful that the woman didn’t have time to react. In a heartbeat, the blade he had hidden in his coat was in his hand, and with one swift motion, he sent it flying.

The woman barely had time to dodge, but not fast enough.

The blade sank into her shoulder, and she staggered back, fury flashing in her eyes.

"Game’s over," Hyunjin muttered, his voice cold with finality.

But Y/N could see it now—the uncertainty in his eyes. The fight wasn’t just about survival anymore. It was about something far deeper, something far more personal than either of them had realized. They had both been players in a game they didn’t fully understand, and now the stakes were higher than ever.

Now, there was no turning back.

[lostinwildflowers]

Dessert, Then Dinner

Colt Seavers x Reader

Summary: Colt is late to dinner tonight, and he is NOT happy about it. So, he takes it upon himself to make it up to you.

Word Count: 2.8K

Warnings: NSFW, SMUT (18+ ONLY PLEASE), oral(fem receiving), praise, slight face fucking, ever so slight denial/edging, very slight overstimulation, Colt is a soft dom, improper use of a kitchen counter, BACKWARDS CAP COLT SEAVERS

A/N: Uhm so yeah? I wrote this? Please only interact if you are 18+! Blank/empty blogs and blogs with no ages will be blocked! Just because I wrote this does not mean I will write more smut, this is just an itch my brain needed to write. PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED TAGGING SOMETHING. Also, please let me know what you think :( - Birch<3

Inspo for this fic: (creds to the user on twitter who posted this which I cannot find for the life of me now)

Please proceed with caution!!! NSFW BELOW THE CUT!!!

Colt was late tonight.

6:55 p.m. wasn't considered late into the evening for most people, but for you? It was late. When your wake-up time to be on set was the earlier side of 4 in the morning, 7 o'clock in the evening was late.

The dish towel in your hand barely feels lukewarm as you finish your final wipes over the smooth, diorite countertop. The white and black surface twinkles now that it's clean, and the air is tinged with the scent of lavender.

Despite the faint whisps of cleaner lingering in the air, the kitchen still smells like the pot roast that is now safely tucked in the fridge, savory and homey. The warmed bread that you had heated in the oven is now wrapped up on the counter in a zip-lock bag, waiting for the day it will be reheated or thrown out.

Colt was late tonight.

You sigh as you prop your hip against the now clean counter, (colored) gaze flickering over the kitchen that had been prepped and ready for a nice dinner. Your fingers clench around the towel you had used to wipe every surface with, slowly letting your eyes wander to the front door you can see just down the hall.

The front porch light is on. It's always left on when you know Colt is going to be out for the day, risking his life at work like it's normal. Tonight, it shines as a reminder that he missed dinner and would likely be sliding into bed after you'd already fallen asleep.

It takes effort, but you tear your eyes away from the door and push off of the counter. Tired steps lead you to the laundry room, where you chuck the dirty towel into a miscellaneous basket waiting to be loaded into the washer.

Colt was late tonight.

You had just started padding toward your bedroom, tugging your hair loose from its confines, when you heard the front door creak. A frown knits between your brows as you stop and spin around, walking down the hallway you had just come from.

You hear muffled sounds around the corner - ones that could be someone talking to themselves or someone falling over while taking their shoes off. You pop your head around the edge of the wall, eyes wide as you look at the source of the noise.

It was both.

There, in the hallway leading to your front door, is Colt. He's kicking his shoes off as fast as he can while trying to shimmy out of his Miami Vice stunt jacket. Every movement he makes is erratic and completely uncalculated - it's almost like he's trying to outrun a wild animal.

Your husband's gaze is nearly untamed as it lands on yours. You can see his chest is heaving like he ran from Boston to L.A. and back, and he still has his white baseball cap on despite usually hanging it next to his coat.

You step out from around the wall, your mouth parted as you start, "I just finished putting dinner away, I can go heat-" "Shit, sweetheart", Colt's voice comes, breathy and low.

He finishes kicking off his shoes, and then he's scrambling, his arms reaching for you. You squeak as Colt's hands slide around your waist at record speeds, slamming you against his ribcage without batting an eye.

Long, fluid steps have you backing toward the kitchen while Colt dips his head to bite at your neck. Your arms flail as you try to grip the wall, the doorframe, anything to make sure you aren't going to run into something and end up hurt.

Colt's beard tickles as it scratches along your throat, his mouth parting as he leaves wet kisses trailing from your jaw to your collarbone. "C-Colt," you stammer as your hips ram into the countertop you had just cleaned, your hands finding purchase around his neck once he stops walking.

"'m sorry, sweetheart, I didn't mean to miss dinner," he mumbles against your skin, his teeth grazing your pulse point as he talks. One of his hands releases your waist, coming up to spin his ball cap around so that the bill is facing backward.

He doesn't relent on your neck, his kisses shifting from wet and sloppy to harsh and claiming. You run your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck, trying not to bump his hat as you manage to hum out, "It's, it's okay." Colt freezes and pulls back a few inches, his blue eyes hard as he straightens his posture and looks down at you.

"No, baby, it's not," he replies, his voice rough and his chest heaving, "I have waited to see you, all day, and I wanted nothing more than to sit here and eat dinner with my beautiful wife."

His words make your face burn with embarrassment, and as your eyes flutter downwards, the hand that flipped his hat around gently moves to cup your cheek. Colt lifts your chin so you look him in the eye and he whispers, "My girl deserves better than that, and I've gotta fix that."

He threads his fingers through your hair as his gaze darkens a notch and he whispers, "God, I missed you." You almost whimper as his grip tightens on your waist, and then he leans forward.

His lips crash against yours in a hungry kiss, the intensity just as high as when he came scrambling through the door. This is more focused, though - his mouth chases after yours in a way that says he's sorry.

Your fingers tighten in the hair at the base of his neck as he tilts your head back ever so slightly, deepening the kiss. Your mouth willingly parts for his tongue when he swipes it against your bottom lip, letting your body mold against his as he takes control.

Colt slowly releases his grip on your hair as he trails it down the back of your neck, slowly twisting his digits down the front of your throat. His touch is rough, and it makes goosebumps appear on your skin, a shiver sliding down your spine as his hand travels downwards to cup your right breast.

He palms at the soft mound as he slides his tongue into the cavern of your mouth, a soft moan falling from your lips at his urgency. His fingers toy with the material of your shirt, trying to provide stimulation through it and your bra, but he decides that isn't enough for you.

You try to pull back from his kiss, whispering against his mouth, "Colt, you don't have t-" "I missed you," he all but growls out, his hand sliding from your chest to find the hem of your shirt.

Before you can say anything else, Colt slides his leg between your thighs, forcing them to part. The sudden contact of his thigh against your crotch makes you whine, one that Colt is ready to catch in another sloppy kiss.

"Colt, please," is all you can manage to mumble against his hungry mouth, your fingers grabbing at his neck and shoulder. The fingers on his left hand work at the hem of your shirt, hiking it further up your waist as he works his tongue over yours.

You're almost out of breath, trying to match his intensity, but he's making you dizzy. He's always been a thorough lover, but now he's making your head spin with his need to please.

Then, before you know it, Colt is pulling back for another split second to clumsily pull your t-shirt over your head. It catches on your hair, but he's gentle as he tugs the material off, making sure you are free from its confines before he throws your shirt somewhere over his shoulder.

His lips reattach to your neck this time, his teeth grazing over your pulse point, which is racing under his touch. Instinctively, you tilt your head back, giving him access to your throat as his hand comes up to palm at your chest again.

Colt's fingers are warm and rough as they dip into one of the cups of your bra, the long digits itching to feel your nipple pebble under his ministrations. You can't help the whine that falls from your lips at his touch, the long digits circling your hardening bud at a languid but pleasing pace.

"Feel good, baby?" he murmurs against the skin of your neck, feeling the way your body naturally arches against his before grinding down on his thigh. In turn, he purposefully juts his thigh forward, eliciting a sharp gasp from you, the friction from his jeans harshly cutting through the thin material of your yoga pants.

"Hm? What was that?" Colt hums again, pulling away from you far enough to see the way your eyebrows have knit together and your lips have parted in want. You all but whimper when he slows his fingers working over your chest, your nerves itching for more contact, more friction.

Your disoriented gaze flits up to meet his blue one, and he raises an eyebrow at you as he waits for you to answer. You mumble bashfully, "Yeah, feels good," your fingers twitching over the thick muscle of his chest.

This makes Colt smile, and he presses a chaste kiss to your parted lips before whispering against them, "That's my girl." His words send a shiver straight up your spine, your core clenching down around nothing at the lower timbre of his voice.

Colt's fingers toy with the waistband of your yoga pants, and making sure he has both your pants and panties, pulls them down in one fell swoop. He has to retract his leg to help you step out of them, and when the cool air in the kitchen hits your exposed cunt, your legs try to clamp down around nothing.

"Hold on, sweetheart," he murmurs reassuringly, "I'm gonna make it up to you." His fingers find a place on either side of your hips, and they tap a few times there before he instructs, "Jump up for me."

At his words, you jump up, wrapping your legs around his waist and firmly bracing your hands against his chest. With ease, Colt lifts you up and sets you on the freshly cleaned counter, gently laying you back.

The diorite counter bites at your skin, cold against your body that feels feverish with the way Colt has riled you up. You can't help but whine at the cold contact, your back arching in both want and protest.

Colt doesn't slack, though, and rubs at your bare thighs to distract you as he gets down on his knees. The material of his jeans draws tight across his waist as his own arousal becomes apparent, but he wants to focus on you tonight.

"I know I've made you wait long enough, sweetheart," he murmurs quietly, his voice full of guilt as he presses a soft kiss to the inside of your right thigh. The friction of his beard against the delicate skin makes your legs tremble with anticipation, the muscles wanting to clamp down around his head as his mouth trails gentle kisses to where you want him most.

"Colt, please," you beg this time, your voice breathy and whiny as one of your hands kneads at your left breast and the other inches toward your neglected clit. Colt catches your movement out of the corner of his eye, and he reaches a hand up to thread his fingers through your own.

"Not yet, angel," he murmurs as he tightens his grip on your thigh, tugging you closer to the edge of the counter. His mouth is mere inches away from your cunt, and your body quivers with unruly anticipation.

Then, just when you think you can't take anymore, Colt leans forward, licking a long, soothing stripe up the length of your cunt. A loud, unashamed moan falls from your lips at the sudden contact, and your hips lurch forward in response.

It makes a smug smile pull on Colt's lips, but he doesn't dwell on it. He needs to make it up to you. With one hand threaded through yours and the other tugging your hips closer around his head, Colt gets to work.

He begins to lap at your pussy with soft licks, the sweet taste of your arousal on his tongue making him moan against your core. The intense vibrations from his hum and the prickle of his beard on your skin have you subtly grinding against his face, whines crawling up your throat as you roll your nipple between your shaky fingers.

"God, Colt," you manage to pant as he flicks his tongue over your clit, your hips stuttering against his head as your thighs threaten to clamp down around him. Colt hums in response, then mumbles, "Taste so good, baby."

This elicits another moan out of you, the combination of praise and vibrations making you rock against his face, pushing his nose to bump against your awaiting bundle of nerves. With both sloppy and rough licks and kisses, Colt eats you out like a starved man.

You can't help but clamp your thighs around his head when he dips his tongue into your cunt, the warm muscle stretching you out as he starts to pump it in and out.

He doesn't mean to, but his grip on your hip tightens even further, sure to leave bruises. He's so lost in the sweet taste of your cunt, drunk on the feeling of your legs clamping down around his head, that he can't help but hold onto you for dear life.

The pressure of his hand on your hip slides up, and suddenly his palm is splaying across your lower stomach. There, he presses down harder on your belly, his tongue dancing over your clit as it dips in and out of your pussy.

His actions have started to build a burning heat that courses through you, your limbs tingling like they're being electrocuted.

And Colt? He doesn't dare come up for air - he can't. He missed you. So he licks and slurps at your cunt, lewd sounds filling the clean kitchen air until he feels your free hand grasping at his shoulder.

He slows down ever so slightly, and he hears you whine as the build-up to your orgasm fades. Then, you whimper, "C-colt, I w-was close."

The bearded blonde hums in recognition, lost in the taste of you on his tongue and the feeling of you wrapped around his head. He tugs you closer yet, your hips threatening to fall off the counter as he all but buries his head between your thighs.

With a practiced ease, he pulls one of your legs to rest over his shoulder, the thigh muscle bumping against the bill of his cap. This only fuels his desire to devour you more, his tongue flicking over your clit with sloppy licks. In between his soft licks, he thrusts his tongue in and out of your cunt, his clothed hips rolling against nothing, but in time with his mouth.

You can feel the tension building in your body ready to snap. Your hand scrambles from his shoulder to fumble with the blonde hair under his ballcap, and you use your hold on him to grind down on his face, chasing your release.

Colt has no complaints and lets you use his nose, beard, and tongue to push you closer and closer to the edge. Only when you hear him mumble, "C'mon baby, let go," do you let yourself give in.

You cum hard on his tongue, your thighs trying to slam shut on his head while your hand threaded through the locks at the base of his neck draws him closer to your core. A moan that resembles his name falls from your lips as your orgasm washes over you, the edges of your vision fading to black.

Colt laps at your clit through your high, slurping up every ounce of release your body offers him. He moans at the taste, licking and lapping at your cunt even as your legs start to shake and tremble from overstimulation.

Only when your hand starts tugging him away does he relent on your pussy, trailing kisses up your thigh murmuring, "Atta girl, did so good for me." You whine as you try pulling your husband up to kiss you, blissfully fucked out as your legs tingle with the remnants of your orgasm.

"Kiss me," you mumble as he eventually relents, gleefully crashing his lips against yours, the taste of your release on his mouth. It makes you moan against his parted lips, and you can't help but clutch at him, pulling him closer to you.

Colt was late tonight.

But, he certainly knew how to make up for his missed dinner.

[seiduastarionsapawn]

🔮🩸BLOODWEAVE🩸🔮

The moon hung like a silver herald above Baldur’s Gate, gleaming and patient, while the wind barely dared to stir the heavy curtains of the bedchamber. The room was bathed in a soft, golden flicker countless candles cast their light over velvet-red carpets, baroque furniture, and the broad canopy bed at the center, draped in dark wine-colored fabric. The bed’s curtains were drawn back, as if it were whispering a promise to its guests.

Astarion stood at the edge of the bed, motionless like a sculptor studying his creation. His ruby-red eyes sparkled, his white shirt was open, loosely tucked into his trousers, his boots long discarded. He seemed unnaturally calm too calm. But in his pupils, a fire smoldered, a fire only one man in this city had ever managed to ignite.

Gale.

The wizard stepped closer, slower than usual. Perhaps it was the wine, perhaps it was the way Astarion looked at him as if Gale were not a living soul, but a precious feast meant to be tasted with hands and lips, not cutlery.

“You look like you’ve been watching me all night,” Gale whispered, his voice hoarse.

“Oh, my dear,” Astarion replied, raising a brow as his mouth curled into a dangerously lustful smile. “I’ve been watching you far longer than that.”

Then he stepped forward. In a movement as fluid as shadow, he pulled Gale against him, gripping his hips and pressing him back against the heavy bedpost. Their bodies collided hard, warm and when their lips met, it was no tentative kiss.

Astarion's mouth claimed what it wanted Gale’s full, hesitant lips, his breath, his first moan. He kissed him with a hunger that craved more than just lust it craved control, the complete surrender of the other. And Gale? He answered. With trembling lips, with eager fingers that explored Astarion’s back as though reading an ancient map.

“I want you,” Astarion gasped between kisses. “But not gently. Not sweetly. I want you weak beneath me. Shaking. Completely in my hands.”

Gale closed his eyes and nodded. “Then take me. But only if you really feel me.”

A growl escaped Astarion’s throat not animalistic, but darkly sensual. He pushed Gale onto the bed, guiding him to lie back slowly on the mattress. The canopy above was lined with shimmering black velvet, making it feel as if they lay within a dark firmament of lust and magic.

Astarion’s hands were everywhere on Gale’s neck, his chest, the place just above the waistband where heat pulsed. He leaned over him, rubbed a knee against his hip, made him feel his presence.

“You’re so warm,” Astarion murmured, letting his tongue glide along Gale’s throat. “So alive. And I’m going to take all of you.”

His fingers slipped beneath the shirt Gale still wore, slowly drawing it upward, revealing smooth, warm skin. He kissed his way down Gale’s chest to his hips, leaving damp, tingling trails. And then… he paused.

“Not yet,” said Astarion. “I want to see you squirm.”

He ran his fingertips over Gale’s stomach, circled his navel, moved higher, until he drew a sharp, needy sound from him. Astarion looked down at him as if Gale were sin incarnate and he the devil come to revel in it.

Astarion took his time. So much time.

He wasn’t a lover who simply took and devoured not when he could enjoy watching his prey writhe under his fingertips, tormented by just the right amount of pleasure too little to finish, too much to stay still.

Gale lay half-undressed on the bed. His shirt hung open, his skin glistened in the candlelight, heated and slightly damp. Astarion sat beside him, one leg draped over Gale’s thigh, palms flat on his chest. He let his nails glide over the flesh, barely touching, as if he were a painter testing how the canvas would react to his touch.

“You flinch at every little thing, Gale,” he murmured, his fingers trailing lower along the fine line of the abdomen. “I wonder how you’ll sound when I really begin.”

Gale didn’t answer. He bit his lip, but his hips lifted toward Astarion’s hand a silent plea.

Astarion did not indulge him. Not yet. Instead, he leaned in, lips returning to Gale’s throat, sucking on the warm skin, licking where the pulse throbbed. His fangs glinted in the candlelight just briefly. A promise. Not a threat.

Then he bit.

Not deep not painful. Just a short pressure, a needle prick, followed by the warm, pulling sensation of Astarion sipping at his life. Gale moaned, not in pain, but from that burning blend of surrender, heat, and the realization: I belong to him.

“Mmm… delicious,” Astarion breathed, his lips still slick with blood he swallowed with relish. “Like warm wine.”

He straightened, ran his tongue over his teeth, then over Gale’s chest. His tongue was hot, his lips soft, his touches precise. He circled a nipple with the tip of his tongue, sucked it gently, released it only to return again. His fingers slid over Gale’s thighs, close to the place where heat now surged, throbbing.

Gale arched slightly beneath him. “Astarion… please…”

The vampire lifted his head. His eyes gleamed dangerously.

“Please?” He laughed softly. “I’ve heard that word so many times and still, from your lips… it’s different.”

He slowly peeled away Gale’s trousers, freeing him layer by layer, until the wizard lay naked before him breathless, trembling, chest heaving, his cock hard and aching. Astarion regarded him like a masterpiece only beginning to reveal its full effect.

Then he laid one hand on Gale’s hip and with the other, reached between his legs.

His fingers first brushed softly along the inner thighs, then more firmly, more insistently. Again and again, he deliberately avoided the center that Gale so desperately craved. Instead, his tongue traveled lower, down his belly, then further, between his thighs, over the most sensitive spots.

He sucked lightly, bit again deeper this time, wetter, but never cruel. Gale writhed beneath him, moaning aloud, and Astarion, Astarion chuckled softly, almost triumphantly.

“You taste like longing,” he murmured against him. “Like control you’re eager to give away.”

Gale reached for Astarion’s hair, buried his fingers in it, tugged not to escape, but to keep him close.

“I want you… everywhere,” he whispered.

Astarion paused, looked up. His face was painted in shadow and light a god of lust, trapped in flesh and blood. Then his fingers slid lower exploring, pressing, never rough. He prepared him, took his time, stretched, teased, pleased. His tongue was never far, his lips kissed, licked, adored. And again and again, just when Gale reached the brink Astarion pulled away. Smiling.

“Not yet,” he whispered. “Not nearly yet.”

Gale had no idea how long he’d lain under Astarion’s touch. In this golden sea of candlelight, time had lost all meaning. He was burning, open, trembling his body ablaze without ever having been touched by flame. It was desire that consumed him, the heat that Astarion’s lips, tongue, and fingers had kindled in him. Again and again, Astarion had brought him to the brink of release only to drag him back, leave him panting, aching, entirely in his grasp.

And Astarion? He savored every second.

He loved this game. The quivering under his hands. The flickering in Gale’s eyes, flickering between pleading and ecstasy. That precious, trembling balance the wizard had so willingly placed in his hands.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Astarion murmured, as he leaned slowly over Gale his legs slightly parted, his breath heavy, gaze locked entirely on him. “Open. Obedient. And yet never broken.”

He kissed him gently. A brief moment of tenderness a gift. Then he rose, undressed completely, let shirt and trousers fall to the floor without care. His body was pale, flawless, marked by a life beyond life. Wounds once etched into his skin had long since healed but his eyes held centuries, darkness, hunger.

Now, though, they glowed. Not with greed. With desire.

He leaned over Gale again, whose hips lifted toward him unconsciously, already waiting for him like an altar. Astarion’s fingers stroked over his loins, caressing one last time before positioning himself.

“Breathe,” Astarion whispered as he began to enter him. “And feel me.”

Gale gasped. That first moment was always a burning transition from emptiness to fullness, from tension to surrender. Astarion was patient, but firm. He left no room for doubt he guided him with steady pressure into this new, intoxicating union. He moved slowly, almost torturously, leaving no doubt who held control.

When he was fully inside, he paused. Buried deep in Gale, hips pressed tight against him, chest gently quivering.

“Gods, fuck ” Gale gasped, hands clutching the sheets.

Astarion grinned. “No, my darling. Just me.”

Then he began to move.

At first with a rhythm that danced with the candlelight long, deep, controlled. Every thrust a precise stroke on Gale’s nerves. And with every new wave that coursed through Gale’s body, Astarion grew more demanding. His hands held Gale firmly by the hips, his lips found his throat again, and he bit deeper this time. Longer.

He drank from him as he moved inside him, swallowed the sweet, intoxicating blood that brought him closer to life than any touch ever had. But he stopped before Gale grew weak he wanted him strong, arching, filled with voice and lust.

Astarion straightened, gripped Gale’s legs tighter, thrust deeper and then again, harder, faster.

Gale threw his head back, let out a moan that filled the room, vibrating with the candle flames. Astarion took him passionately, but never cruelly. It was a wild union, but never dehumanizing laced with a desire that went far beyond mere need.

He paused from time to time not to grant mercy, but to build tension anew. His fingers found Gale’s core again, pleasured him further until the wizard nearly screamed from bliss.

“You’ll fall in my arms,” Astarion rasped, voice rough and low. “But you’ll love it.”

And Gale did. He let go. With every thrust, every bite, every damned sweet word Astarion whispered into his ear, he edged closer to the precipice deeper than ever before. The world had vanished. There was only Astarion’s body, Astarion’s warmth, Astarion’s hunger merging with his own.

When the moment came when they both reached the edge of collapse Astarion growled hoarsely, deeply, as he buried himself one last, merciless time. And Gale… came beneath him, loud, trembling, shuddering, as Astarion released inside him.

Long after, they held each other breathing heavily, their bodies entwined, while the light of the candles flickered on in silence.

[cythiraeth]

beneath soft pillows and wool pt. II ─ i. e. you are struggling to sleep but your genshin lover is there for you

✧ ─ ⌑ pairing: gn!reader x xiao, ganyu, ayato, yelan (separate)

✧ ─ ⌑ short summary: while you are having troubles with sleeping, your lover tries to find a way to comfort you! let's find out what would they do, if they found you not sleeping late into the night

✧ ─ ⌑ about the work: lowercase, fluff, reader overworking themselves

✧ ─ ⌑ notes: as i promised, i present to you second part of this small series! i hope you enjoy it, as always <3 stay tuned for my next works!

+ link to first part ☆ (featuring al-haitham lyney, neuvilette)

and my genshin impact masterlist: ☆

✧ ─ ⌑ word count: 2.8 k in total

they would find you not sleeping by an accident, and would put you back to sleep themselves — yelan, xiao

yelan

the night was cool and still, the faint hum of liyue harbour in the distance mingled with the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. you leaned against the balcony railing of your room, gazing out at the twinkling lights of the city below. sleep had eluded you tonight, your mind restless despite the hour.

the sound of a faint, almost imperceptible footstep behind you broke the silence. you whirled around, your heart leaping to your throat, only to see a familiar figure emerge from the shadows.

"yelan?" you blurted out, your voice a mixture of surprise and confusion. "what are you doing here?" she crossed her arms, one brow arched in a way that was both amused and mildly reproachful. "'no,'" she countered softly, her tone sharp yet playful. "what are you doing here?"

for a moment, you were at a loss for words. "i... couldn't sleep," you finally admitted, gesturing vaguely at the cityscape. "i thought some fresh air might help clear my head." yelan stepped closer, her movements as fluid and deliberate as ever, still dressed in her usual attire - dark and smooth, perfect for blending into the night - but her expression was softer than usual.

"you know," she said, her voice low and tinged with concern, "roaming around at this hour isn't exactly the best way to deal with insomnia, especially on a balcony where you could catch a cold." you rolled your eyes slightly and leaned back against the railing. "i wasn't exactly 'roaming', yelan. and besides, what are the odds of you showing up here of all places? were you spying on me or something?"

she grinned and tilted her head. "i wasn't spying, no. but let's just say i have my ways of knowing when someone i care about is up to something they shouldn't be.” even though her words made you feel a little warmer out in this cold night, you couldn't help but tease her back. "so, what, you decided to come and give me a lecture about bedtime?"

yelan chuckled, the sound deep and melodic. "something like that. though," she added, her eyes narrowing slightly, "i didn't expect to find you brooding out here in the cold. what's on your mind?"

you hesitated, the weight of her attention making you feel both comforted and exposed. "just... couldn't stop thinking about things. nothing specific, really. it's like my brain refuses to turn off."

she nodded thoughtfully, moving closer until she was standing next to you. "i know the feeling," she said softly, her voice losing its teasing edge. "but staying up all night won't help. trust me." you turned to look at her, her face lit by the moonlight, her sharp, confident demeanour seeming softer for the moment, her usual air of mystery replaced by genuine concern.

"i suppose you're right," you murmured, your voice barely audible.

"i usually am," she said, smirking again, though it lacked her usual sharpness, and then, without warning, she reached out and took your hand, her grip firm yet gentle. "come. let's get you back into bed."

you blinked, startled by the sudden contact. "you're going to put me to bed now?"

"someone has to," she quipped, her grin widening. "and you obviously can't be trusted to do it yourself."

despite her playful tone, there was something undeniably tender about the way she led you back to your room, not letting go of your hand until you were sitting on the edge of your bed, her presence somehow both reassuring and commanding.

as you settled under the covers, she pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down, her gaze steady and unwavering. "now close your eyes," she said, her voice softer than before.

"you're staying?" you asked, surprised. "just until you fall asleep," she replied, leaning back in the chair with a faint smile. "i have to make sure you don't sneak back out on the balcony."

you couldn't help but smile at her persistence, your heart swelling with affection for the woman who could so easily command a room - or your restless mind - with just a few words. 

"thank you, yelan," you murmured, your eyes growing heavy under her watchful gaze.

"anytime," she replied softly, and for the first time that night, you felt truly at ease.

her presence was so comforting that it wasn't long before your eyes began to close uncontrollably and yelan's silhouette began to blur.

"don't forget to close the door," was the only thing you whispered to your friend, half asleep. the little smirk on her face went unnoticed, unlike the wide-open door that was the first thing you saw in the morning with a runny nose.

hey, after all, they say it's better to sleep in a cold room, right?

xiao

the air was crisp on the terrace of the wangshu inn, the faint hum of nocturnal creatures filling the silence of the night. the inn was quiet, its usual bustle replaced by the stillness that only comes in the early hours. you sat on the edge of the terrace, your legs dangling over the side as you gazed out at the moonlit expanse of the dihua marsh.

the night had always felt peaceful to you, a time to think and breathe without the weight of the day pressing down on you. but tonight, that peace eluded you. your thoughts were restless, keeping you from the sleep you so desperately needed.

a faint gust of wind blew past you, and a familiar presence settled behind you, and you didn't need to turn to know who it was.

"xiao," you said softly, your voice carrying easily in the still night.

"what are you doing here?" his voice came, sharp but tinged with concern. you turned to see him standing a few paces away, his golden eyes fixed on you with that intense gaze he always seemed to carry.

you sighed and turned back to the view of the marsh. "i couldn't sleep, i don't know why exactly," you sighed, "i guess it's just a human thing."

xiao's footsteps were almost silent as he approached, stopping just behind you. he remained quiet for a moment, the silence stretching between you. then his voice came again, softer this time. "the night is not meant for mortals to linger, it is when dangers arise, even here."

you glanced over your shoulder at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. "i think I'll be fine with the mighty conqueror of demons around."

he frowned, clearly unimpressed by your attempt at humour. "i’m serious," he said, his tone firm but lacking his usual edge. "your body needs rest. staying awake like this is... unwise."

you sighed again, your shoulders slumping slightly. "i know, but i just can't. it's like the more i try, the harder it gets."

xiao's frown deepened, but instead of reacting, he came closer, lowering himself to sit beside you on the edge of the terrace. his presence was grounding, a quiet strength that seemed to calm your racing thoughts.

"mortals and their endless worries," he murmured, almost to himself. "you carry so much, even when you don't need to."

you looked at him, surprised at the softness in his tone. "it's not like i can help it," you admitted. "it's just... life, i guess."

he was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the marsh below, then he spoke again, his voice low and almost hesitant. "if it helps... you're not alone. even if i'm not around, i'm watching."

the weight of his words settled over you, a warmth blooming in your chest. xiao was not one to offer comfort lightly, and his presence alone spoke volumes.

"thank you, xiao," you said softly, leaning a little closer to him. he turned his head to look at you, his golden eyes catching the moonlight. for a moment he said nothing, but the intensity of his gaze made your heart skip a beat.

"come," he said finally, standing up and offering you his hand. "you need the rest." you hesitated, glancing at the railing as if debating whether to stay. but the gentle insistence in his eyes left little room for argument. you took his hand, his grip firm and steady as he helped you to your feet.

back in your room, xiao lingered by the window, his back to you as you settled into bed. his presence was a silent reassurance that you weren't alone. "will you stay?" you asked softly, the words slipping out before you could question them.

he turned to look at you, his expression unreadable, and for a moment you thought he might refuse, but then he gave a small nod. "i'll stay until you sleep."

you smiled and closed your eyes as the sounds of the night filled the room, and as sleep finally claimed you, you felt safe, knowing that he was there, watching over you like the ever-dedicated guardian he was.

they would stay up with you for a little longer — ganyu, ayato

ganyu

the soft glow of a lantern illuminated the desk in your study, casting flickering shadows across the neatly stacked papers and open books. the night was deep, its silence broken only by the occasional rustle of the wind against the windows. you leaned over your work, exhaustion tugging at your eyelids, but unable to outweigh the sheer volume of tasks that still demanded your attention.

just as you reached for your quill again, the faint sound of footsteps caught your attention. turning towards the doorway, you found ganyu standing there, her soft blue hair illuminated by the dim light. she looked at you with a mixture of surprise and concern.

"you're still awake?" she asked quietly, stepping into the room.

you smiled, trying to sound more awake than you felt. "i could say the same about you."

she chuckled softly, closing the distance between you. "you know, i tend to overwork myself sometimes, but you... i didn't expect to find you burning the midnight oil."

"i have a lot to finish," you admitted, gesturing to the scattered papers on the desk. "i thought i could get it all done before tomorrow, but... well, here i am."

ganyu's eyes swept over the desk, taking in the clutter with a practiced eye. her expression softened, and she reached out to place a hand on your shoulder. "you've been working too hard, you should rest.”

"i know," you said with a sigh. "but if i don't finish this tonight, i'll be even further behind tomorrow. i'll sleep when i'm done, i promise."

her lips pressed into a thin line, her concern evident, and then, after a moment, she nodded, though her hand remained on your shoulder. "if you're determined to finish this tonight," she said gently, "then let me help you."

you blinked, startled. "no, you don't have to..."

"but i want to," she interrupted, her voice firm yet kind. "i know what it's like to feel overwhelmed by work. sometimes it's easier if someone is there to share the burden."

her words fell like a warm blanket over you, and for a moment all you could do was stare at her. ganyu's dedication had always been one of the things you admired most about her, but her willingness to extend that dedication to you - to stay up late and help you simply because she cared - made your chest tighten with affection.

"then thank you, ganyu," you said quietly.

she offered you a small smile, one that carried more warmth than the entire room. "where should i start?"

you quickly organized the papers, explaining what needed to be done. ganyu took a seat beside you, her delicate fingers moving deftly as she worked through the tasks. her presence was calming, her quiet focus making it easier for you to concentrate.

for a while, the two of you worked in comfortable silence, the only sounds being the scratching of pens on paper and the occasional shuffling of documents. you glanced at her every now and then, marveling at how serene she looked even in the midst of tedious work.

finally, you leaned back in your chair and stretched your arms over your head. "i think that's the last of it," you said with a tired but satisfied sigh.

ganyu looked up from her own pile of papers, a hint of relief in her expression.   "i’m glad we could finish it together," she said quietly, putting down her pen.

you smiled at her, your exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "i don't know what i’d do without you."

a faint blush rose to her cheeks and she looked away shyly. "i haven't done much," she murmured.

"you've done more than enough," you insisted, reaching out to take her hand. "you stayed with me when you didn't have to. that means everything to me.”

she hesitated for a moment, then squeezed your hand gently, her eyes meeting yours. "you mean a lot to me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "i just want to make sure you take care of yourself."

your heart swelled at her words, and you gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "i'll try. as long as you promise to do the same."

she smiled, the kind of smile that lit up her whole face, and nodded. "i promise."

as the first rays of dawn began to creep through the window, you and ganyu made your way to the bed, exhaustion finally catching up to both of you. she stayed close, her warmth a comforting presence as you drifted off to sleep. and in that quiet moment, with her by your side, you knew you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

ayato

the inkwell was nearly empty, and the paper under your hand was beginning to blur from the strain in your tired eyes. the silence of the night wrapped around you like a heavy cloak, broken only by the occasional rustling of papers or the faint scratching of your pen. you knew you should be in bed, but there was so much to do, and the hours slipped away before you realized how late it was.

you didn't hear ayato's footsteps at first. his movements were as graceful and quiet as ever, the only warning of his presence being the soft rustle of his robes as he approached. you looked up, startled, to see his gentle smile framed by the warm light of the lantern he carried.

"you are still awake," he said softly, his tone a mixture of curiosity and concern. "what could require so much of your attention at this hour?"

you sighed, putting down the quill and rubbing at your temples. "there's just too much to do, ayato. i couldn't sleep knowing this was unfinished."

his eyes flickered to the papers spread across the desk, then back to you. his smile didn't falter, but there was a knowing look in his eyes that made you feel both cared for and slightly scolded. "and i thought i was the workaholic in this relationship," he teased lightly.

you gave him a tired laugh, and his expression softened further. without another word, he put down the lantern and pulled up a chair beside you. "then i’ll help you," he said simply, taking one of the documents from the pile.

"ayato, you don't have to..."

"i insist," he interrupted smoothly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "if you're determined to stay awake, i'll make sure you don't have to shoulder this alone. besides," he added with a playful touch, "i’m quite efficient, you know."

and he was! as you worked, ayato's sharp mind and quick hands proved invaluable, easing your burden more than you thought possible. but more than his help, it was his presence that soothed you - the soft hum of his voice as he made the occasional comment, the comforting weight of his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned over to hand you something.

time seemed to pass differently with him there, and before you knew it, the last of the work was done. you leaned back in your chair, exhaustion settling in, but the relief was palpable.

ayato looked at you, his smile tinged with satisfaction. "there, you see? together we can do anything.”

you laughed softly and shook your head. "thank you, ayato. really."

he stood and offered you his hand with a flourish. "my pleasure. but now, my dear, there is one more task we must complete tonight."

you raised an eyebrow and took his hand. "and what's that?"

"to make sure you get the rest you deserve," he said, his voice warm as he led you to the bed.

he pulled back the covers for you, waiting until you were comfortably tucked in before sliding in next to you, his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. "next time, let me know if you're overwhelmed," he murmured, his lips brushing against your forehead. "i’d rather spend the night by your side than let you face it alone."

you nodded sleepily, the weight of his words and the warmth of his embrace lulling you into a peaceful haze. with ayato holding you close, sleep came easily, and you drifted off with the soft hum of his voice still echoing in your mind.

⌞⌑ cythiraeth - 14.01.2025 please, do not copy, claim as yours or share outside tumblr! ⌑⌝

[poenikolahance]

Discuss the designs, the colour, whether the animation is fluid or staccato ( a term used for sound and movement that involves taking steps with sharp movements and quick bursts of energy)

Gravity falls, The design of the pixel character is very different compared to Max to show hes from a different world. his voice is much choppier compared to max's, its like this because back in the day when games first started off in arcades, an average arcade game wouldnt have enough ram or cpu to power so much pixels and therefore it limited how many bits could be produced on screen, and through sound. This also comes with the less smoother movement in comparison to the two characters because of the refresh and frame limitations. Whereas for the colours of the 90's character he seems to be much shinier or brighter than max. this is also because of the amount of colours that were able to be displayed at the same time on one screen were limited, they needed to find a way to make the character look like he isnt just one solid color and more like he was alive, teh red could also just symbolise the fact that hes always agressive and ready to fight from the way his tone of voice was vicious when he spoke. His sudden movement indicates the exact same way with his intention of fighting since thats what he was created for - a fighting game, specifically 1v1's

His movement is rough compared to the gravity falls animation, this is because the frame rate and refresh rate of arcade games were a lot worse than what we have today. To create the illusion of him trying to quickly whack the fly, his arm looks split, but this is barely visible to us since it appears for a very short amount of time

The simpsons (pixels?), This animation is purely out of pixel art, even the music has had it's bitrate lowered to match the entire theme of this video, there probably isnt very many frames and the character's pixels are obviously limited meaning only a certain amount can be drawn at once, for example, when bart is riding his skateboard, he pulls some faces, you can see they dont necessarily smoothly blend into eachother like a normal animation would, they rather just switch from face to face, with a place holder mouth in between of two frames. Also when maggie is being scanned on the market conveyor she's sucking on her dummy, her face is probably only made up of just 3 or 4 frames on repeat, twice. You can see that a lot of movement in the characters when they are still tend to repeat to show that they are doing something, again, these are probably only about 3 to 4 frames at a time. when it shows maggie driving the car you can see that the sudden movement she makes when she makes a sharp turn kind of looks smooth, this is because there are specific placeholder frames that are distorted to create the illusion that she is moving so fast not even our eyes can see it

This would be a normal, visible and repeated frame

This is the place holder frame that we barely see, this is what creates the fast motion look when she turns ( i used 0.25x speed to catch this ).

[shootybangbang]

Can i request an Arthur/sadistic female reader please？i really want to see him all messed up because of...you know🥺

(btw, pls check out the requester's art. her arthur content is 😩👌)

[Oneshot]: In which you still don't know how to tie an overhand knot

[Rating]: Explicit

[Note]: this is so fucking horny that i feel i have to apologize in advance. unedited and a little rough around the edges, feel free to point out errors or give criticism

———

“Huh,” you muse aloud. “Looks like the gallery’s putting up a new exhibition this weekend.”

With one hand, you spread the newspaper across the bed and skip to page three. With the other, you continue to stroke Arthur’s cock, twisting your wrist a little to smooth your palm against its dripping tip. The man himself groans as you touch him, and the frame of his body trembles beneath where you’ve straddled yourself over his thighs.

His breaths are quickening again. “Please,” Arthur rasps, his voice hoarse with exertion and desperation alike. You indulge him with another slow, teasing pump of your fist as you continue to pick through the St Denis Tribune, humming thoughtfully as you peruse the newspaper’s Arts and Entertainment section.

“I’m beggin’ you, girl.” He sounds as though he’s teetering on the very edge of agony and ecstasy, and venturing perilously close to the latter. “C’mon. Please.”

“Looks like it’s mostly Impressionists this time. Let’s see here… a selection of Seurats and Monets… a couple Renoirs… oh, some Degas too?” With a mild expression that belies the depth of torture you’ve been putting him through, you slow your hand to a stop. He makes a choked, unhappy noise in the back of his throat that you heartily ignore. “That’s pretty bold of them, considering the reception they gave that Chatenay fellow you told me about.”

Growling, Arthur starts fumbling with the (admittedly badly tied) restraints securing his arms behind his back, twisting his wrists in an attempt to find a loose end.

“Easy there.” You run the pad of your thumb along the ridge delineating the head of his cock, slicking against the precum beaded at its tip. “I’ll give you what you want soon enough.”

“Been hearin’ you say that for almost half an hour now,” he replies, glaring. “You enjoyin’ yourself?”

“Immensely.”

“Better savor it while you can, because I promise you — I’m gonna remember this the next time I get you beneath me.”

You laugh. “Oh yeah? What‘re you gonna do then?”

“Untie me and I’ll show you,” he says.

“No,” you reply with a beatific smile.

He narrows his eyes and lowers his voice to something smooth and dangerous: the sort of tone you’ve known him to use for threats he actually intends to follow through on. “When it’s my turn,” he says. “I ain’t gonna tie you up. Won’t need to. Because with you, all I need is my hands.”

A shiver runs down your spine. The man’s wrists may be bound, but you’re still very much at his mercy. In all actuality, your authority here amounts to only a length of rope and his own good humor.

You let out a soft, involuntary whimper at the very thought of it.

“Gonna pin you down when I fuck you,” he continues. He’s smirking now, clearly enjoying the demonstrable effect his words have on you. “Lay you down on your stomach and keep you under me, where you belong.”

You’re half-tempted to loose the rope and let him do just that. Instead, you grab the hem of your shift with both hands and pull the garment over your head in a single fluid motion. It’s 1899, after all. High time for a woman to take charge of her own pleasure.

The dim glow of the oil lamp bathes your bare skin in a wash of gold and amber as you settle yourself against him, pressing the wet line of your slit along the length of his cock. “Go on,” you tell him. “What else?”

Arthur swallows hard and licks his lips, then draws in a sharp intake of breath as you roll your hips forward — just a brief stir of movement, but more than enough to make him twitch beneath you. “Drive you to the brink the same way you’re doin’ to me now,” he says weakly. “Take my time with you, nice and slow. Make you really beg for it.”

“Mm-hmm.” Another roll of your hips, this time with just enough pressure to grant him a touch of warmth.

Finally, he breaks. And it’s truly a sight to behold: Arthur Morgan, a man who you’d thought would break your spine like a toothpick the first time you’d met, openly begging for the simple privilege of being allowed between your thighs.

“God, please,” he groans. “You can’t do this to me. Can’t let me feel how wet you are and just leave me like this.”

“Of course I can.” You relent. “But I won’t. So be a good boy and stay still for me, alright?”

His cock weighs heavy in your hand as you guide him between your thighs. Arthur lets out a harsh gasp and instinctively thrusts upwards — but you immediately withdraw, and he finds nothing but the cruel emptiness of absence waiting to receive him.

“Thought I told you to stay still,” you repeat sternly.

He nods with the frantic desperation of a badly-trained dog begging for a meal. Hungry and eager, but standing to attention with as much obedience he can muster. Which isn’t much, even on the best of days, but he is trying. And for that, he deserves something in return.

You take him in slowly, both out of principle and necessity. Just a taste of him first, then the gradual descent, a long and drawn out consumption that he has barely the means to endure.

His gaze still hasn’t left you. There is an intensity in it that once might have frightened you, an azure bright as broken glass and twice as sharp. The purity of emotion in them strikes you to the bone, makes your throat tighten and your dominance waver — there is a depth of devotion there that borders on the absolute.

When you move against him, he squeezes his eyes shut against the sheer force of sensation that floods through. Arthur makes a low, pained noise in the back of his throat and confesses, “I ain’t gonna last long.”

You lean forward and kiss him, then start a slow, rocking motion with your hips that spurs him to whimper your name against your lips, a small cry of warning before you feel the first twitches of his cock. Arthur bucks up once, twice, then shudders beneath you as his seed pulses deep, blooms hot and slick inside your core.

“Goddammit,” he hisses. “Didn’t think I’d— ah, fuck…”

You ride on, grinding through the last, weakening throbs of his orgasm and until he lets out a final, heavy sigh. Arthur regards you with loose-limbed exhaustion, lolling his head against your pillows as he flashes you a drained, weary grin. “Alright,” he says. “Untie me and get up here so I can—”

“No need,” you say brightly, then lift your hips in a brief mockery of release before sheathing him again and sending him reeling into oversensitivity.

Arthur’s eyes roll back in his head. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he gasps, wincing. “What’re you—”

“Too much?”

“Didn’t say that,” he says. His jaw is clenched tight and his voice is faint, but the look on his face is one of stubborn determination.

You test him with another slow, sinuous slide of your hips. This time, he meets you with a shallow thrust of his own. He’s breathing hard, each exhale shivery with exertion. “Keep goin’,” he urges. “I can take it.”

The added lubrication of his come eases the friction of him, soothes the inevitable ache of penetration. You settle for an unhurried, leisurely rhythm that allows you to fully appreciate the slickness of each stroke, the accompanying warmth of his seed still spread through your core.

Arthur’s gaze darts downwards to the base of his shaft, where the drip of his come has begun to pool. “Beautiful,” he murmurs. “Just beautiful.”

He snakes his right arm free from his bonds and abruptly flips you onto your back with a well-timed shove.

“What— how did you…?”

“Sweetheart,” Arthur says, his voice warm and affectionately condescending. “You still can’t tie an overhand knot for shit.”

“But I double-checked this time!”

“Not very well, apparently.” He hitches your thighs around his waist and cages you in beneath him, then lowers his mouth to the slope of your neck. A brief, gentle nip — not hard enough to hurt, but more than enough to convey his renewed authority. “God, but you’re a greedy little thing, ain’t you?” he growls against your skin. “Just one load of my spend ain’t enough?”

“Thought you’d appreciate the challenge, since you’re always so— oh, shit,” you gasp, clutching at his shoulders when he drives himself downwards with a sharp, savage thrust.

“Go on.” Arthur says. He’s panting now, his dark blond hair slicked against his forehead with sweat. “Weren’t you sayin’ somethin’ about me?”

You let out an indecipherable whine that bears only a passing resemblance to human language.

“My poor girl,” he murmurs, low and tender. Arthur cups the side of your face against his palm and traces his thumb over your cheekbone, then presses a chaste kiss to your brow. “Can’t even talk right when I’m fucking her proper.”

He’ll no doubt be insufferably smug about this later, but you can’t quite bring yourself to care, distracted as you are by the view of him rutting against you, his shaft still streaked with his previous release. He’s fucking his own come back into me, you think to yourself, and that thought alone blinds out all else and leaves you blank with pleasure.

Arthur takes you hard and fast. Far rougher than his usual handling, which can sometimes be almost excruciatingly cautious. He kisses you clumsily, then lowers his mouth to the junction of your neck and shoulder, sucking and biting until the first, faint traces of tomorrow’s bruises begin to darken.

And with this, it’s not long before the first delirious ripples of your own orgasm begin to crest.

Every muscle drawn and tensed, dissolving into an inward ache of arousal that spurs you to grip him tight and whimper, eyelids fluttering as you struggle to keep his face in view. With a fierce satisfaction, you savor the sudden weakness in his expression when he feels you contract against him, then his harsh groan and the stutter of his hips as he follows, spilling what seed he has left.

Arthur keeps himself hilted until the very last shivers of exhilaration fade, then pulls away with a reluctance usually reserved for long farewells. The overflow of his come is thick and heavy as it drips from between your thighs, and the look on his face as he beholds it is one of tired appreciation.

Then he flops onto his side, totally spent. “You’re a real demon,” he sighs. “You know that?”

“A real demon would go for round three,” you reply faintly, staring dreamy-eyed up at the ceiling.

Arthur groans at the mere suggestion of it. “I think that’d actually kill me.”

When you curl up against him, he automatically throws an arm over your side, the action at this point an instinct secondary only to breathing, and brushes his mouth over the back of your neck.

As you ebb towards sleep, you murmur as an afterthought, “Didn’t you say you were gonna make me beg?”

He lets out a weary chuckle. “Well,” he says, “There’s always tomorrow.”

[seriouslysnape]

To the Limit

__

Severus Snape x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Slight smut. Use of safeword. Language.

Request: Hi! Can u make Severus × Reader when the reader use the safe words for the first time because idk maybe it's too much for the reader that day or smth else you like..Thankyouu 💕💕 love ur writings btw ❤❤

A/N: Here we gooooooo. Reminder, everything is consensual.

Word Count: 2,947

“Okay, darling. Whatever you want.”

__

Severus has always been flexible in the bedroom. Yes, Severus Snape is versatile in the sheets and has more love making skills than you originally would’ve given him credit for. Sex with Severus can range anywhere from slow and careful where praising your body is his main objective, to fucking you so mercilessly that stars are dotting the back of your eyelids with each hard thrust.

Sometimes, you don’t have to establish what kind of theme your sessions will take on. If Severus comes home angry from a long, obnoxious day then you very well know that a rough fucking will get it out of his system. When you’ve just watched one of your favorite romantic drama Muggle movies that have sent you into tears, he knows that something more unhurried is in order so you are reminded of how much he loves you.

Other times though, there isn’t really anything that determines the kind of sex you’ll be having. If the mood is right for both of you, then you often will just figure it out from there. 

Severus’ return on Friday night from a long week of classes was coated with his desire for you. You could practically feel the hard sexual tension radiating off of his whole being. From the moment he walked in the door, you knew what tonight would hold for the both of you. More than likely, it’d be a whole lot of rutted fucking and orgasms until neither of you had any stamina left to give. Normally, a seed of excitement would be planted and begin to grow in your core at the thought of being touched by him, but you didn’t feel it this time. 

It had been a bad week to put it simply. Work was weighing you down and you had taken more hits than you were used to in a five day time period. Exhaustion had riddled you, and stress has gotten the best of you. Emotional breakdown was the only way you could describe how you were feeling. You really weren’t feeling up to what Severus wanted to do. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him when his hands and lips were on you, moving to all his favorite places on you.

His voice was silky smooth in your ears as he uplifted you with how he had been thinking about you all day, and how he wanted to be with you when you weren’t around. It wasn’t Severus’ fault that you had a bad week, and it surely wasn’t all his fault that he was this turned on. The way he gripped your legs with his strong hands was an indicator that he wanted to go well into the night, which your tired state wasn’t a fan of. But you loved Severus, and you always wanted him to be happy and well pleased. So you figured you could handle a couple of coarse rounds to satisfy him.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Once access was granted, Severus leapt onto you without hesitation. A tornado of clothes being removed whirled around the room, your shirt and pants ended up on complete opposite sides of the room. Hot and unruly kisses were shared, marks were left on your necks, and no part of you went unattended. 

Admittedly, the first orgasm was actually enjoyable. Severus’ fingers were knuckle deep in your needy cunt and pumping vigorously as he found all the best spots. The strenuous activity melted some of the week’s stress from your conscience, your mind being stripped of all your worry as it clouded with ecstasy. Severus thrived off of the moans and noises of delight that he was drawing out of your throat, perfecting his movements to give you an even stronger release. Severus worked you to your finish as you came around his fingers, slicking them with arousal and relief. 

He left lazy kisses over your breasts while you took a moment to recover, preparing yourself for the next round that was undoubtedly on its way. Tiredness had plagued you long before Severus had even walked through the door, and you had suddenly been robbed of even more energy, so you were confident that you might not get a proper orgasm this second time. But the moment Severus slid you onto his dick and stretched your walls the way only he knew how to, you knew that you were going to cum whether you felt like you could handle it or not.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. You loved seeing Severus so enraptured in waves of pleasure and gratification, but you were beyond fatigued. Still, you bounced up and down on his lap over and over again, your already sensitive clit throbbing with each rub of his fingers. Severus’ other hand guided your hip movements to meet the way he thrusted up into you, hitting your g-spot just right.

When you came this time, your sound of release was more of a strained cry than a content sound. Severus didn’t seem to notice, since he was too focused on the intoxicating feeling of filling you with his own finish. You popped off of him before he was even emptied out, the rest of his fluids landing on your inner thighs. You fell onto the bed next to him, your breathing much heavier than usual. 

You were totally tuckered out with absolutely no hope of another round. Your muscles ached and your bones were wiped out. Although, you felt a queasy feeling of despair when you saw that familiar look of lust in Severus’ eyes. He spoke lowly, his voice echoing in your ringing ears.

“I’m not through with you yet, love.” He purred.

Usually that would’ve sent a whole mess of arousal through you, but you were too worn out. But Severus usually didn’t last more than three rounds, so this would for sure be the last one. You thought you could push through so he could at least get his release, but this third go round wasn’t a good feeling for you at all.

With your arms above your head and the pillowcase below your head in your fingers’ death grip, you turned your head to the side to fight through his persistent hard fucking into you. On a better day, you’d be all over this and relishing every moment. But now your eyes were screwed tightly shut in discomfort, for each time you opened them Severus would only be able to see the whites of your eyes. The thumping heartbeat in your ears was deafening and your entire body was stiff and rigid, but not in a good way. You wanted to tough it out so at least Severus could finish, but it was just too much for you tonight. 

You had to tap out.

“Polyjuice!” You squeaked out, your voice raspy.

In an instant, you saw any expression of lust wiped straight from his face. He pulled out the millisecond that the word registered in his head, his face stricken with worry and concern at the first time use of your agreed safe word. Severus’ heart dropped at your whimpers of displeasure, his brain reeling and raking over what had gone wrong. 

“[Y/N], what’s wrong? What happened?” He asked frantically.

“I-I just...”

Shaky breaths and uncomfortable whines were the only noises you could seem to make. You sat up from where you were laying down, bringing your knees to your chest and hiding your face as you began to cry. Your emotions were all over the place, and it didn’t help that you were overstimulated and overworked. Severus went to pull you to him, but withdrew his hand. Upsetting you further would absolutely crush him, but he needed to know that you were okay.

“Can I touch you, darling?” He whispered out.

The yowl of approval was enough for him to feel fine with carefully wrapping his hand under your arm and dragging you across the mattress to where he was kneeling on the middle of the bed. He pulled the covers over your skin to keep you from getting cold from the loss of heat from being active. You buried your head into his bare chest, your tears leaking and falling down his skin. 

“I’m sorry, Sev. I’m really sorry.” You sobbed, your hair sticking to your sweaty skin.

“No, no, no. Don’t ever be sorry for telling me to stop when you’re not comfortable,” He reassured; “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

The shake of your head brought relief upon him, but he was still worried. He rocked you in his arms until your sobs died down enough to where you were coherent. Severus was getting ready to ask you once more what was wrong, shifting you so he could see your face. When moving you, his hand accidentally brushed against your swollen, sensitive clit and you wailed out pathetically. Severus’ pale face went even whiter.

“Oh, my love...I worked you too hard, didn’t I?” He queried.

Severus would always admit that sometimes he’d get into the zone and completely drown everything else out. He wouldn’t really be able to tell how hard he was pulling in and out. It was rare, but from time to time you’d have to ask him to soften his thrusts or slow his pace when he got too rowdy. But you had never asked him to stop completely until now. He feared that he had seriously pushed you over the edge this time.

“It’s not just that.” You confessed with a sniff.

Severus had drawn your head back to gaze into your bleary eyes. The tear tracks being swiped away with his thumbs as he cradled your face. 

“What is it then, sweetheart?” He asked with wonder.

A fresh set of salty tears pooled and fell down your cheeks, but for a different reason.

“I’ve had a horrible week. Nothing has gone right,” You explained croakily; “I wanted to make you feel good and I thought it might make me feel better...but I’m just exhausted and I couldn’t handle it tonight.”

You fell apart into another set of choking sobs and gut wrenching cries, prompting Severus to bring you back into his chest. He stroked your skin and left kisses so light that they were ghostly. 

“It’s alright, angel. I wish you had told me before that you weren’t feeling up to it,” He consoled; “You’re worth so much more than sex. I want you to tell me sooner next time if you’re uncomfortable.”

Your nod of understanding offered a wash of comfort over him that you were calming down steadily. He hated that this happened. He knew that was the whole reason for your established safe word for when things went south or things got dicey. He just never thought you’d ever have to use it. He felt absolutely terrible. 

“I’m sorry, Sevvy. I really wanted you to get off, I just-”

“Please don’t apologize for this. This is my fault. I should’ve seen how tired you were and how I was being overly hard,” He said; “I’m the one that should be sorry.”

The sniffles from your nose had increased as you tried to flush down all the drainage from your crying. Your tears had stopped as you sat up from his body, wiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand. The red blotches in your puffy eyes were pinging at Severus’ already guilty conscience. He saw the littered hickeys across your neck and breasts, and how your lips were swollen from his severe kisses. He had rocked your burnt out body to the max.

“I’ll tell you what. How about we go get cleaned up, and then we can get into bed. Then you can tell me about your week if so wish.” He suggested, cautiously guiding you off of the bed.

“I think I just want to get a bath and get some sleep.” You said, barely able to stand on your wobbly legs.

“Okay, darling. Whatever you want.” He smiled softly, hoping it’d offer you some kind of solace. 

Severus ran you a hot bath, filling it with all of your favorite scents and smells. Your stance was still despite your shaking legs, and you seemed to be staring off into an endless trance. You slipped into the tub when it was ready, sinking down just below your nose under the bubbles. Normally, Severus would be sitting across from you or you’d be snuggled up on his lap, but he wanted you to have some space for a bit. You were honestly too tired to object. 

He simply casted a charm to freshen himself up, finding and selecting his favorite pair of sweatpants and soft shirt for you to change into. Your eyes were closed, and you had just begun to drift off to sleep when he re-entered the bathroom, changed into some casual day time wear, despite how late it was.

“Here are some clean clothes for you, pretty girl.” He remarked, setting the folded sweats and shirt on the end of the tub for you to get when you got out.

You only gave a light nod as a response, your eyes following him as he stood awkwardly. He was unsure of what to do for you now. He thought that you might want the bedroom to yourself for the night, which was fine because he wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing he had pushed you so hard anyway. He placed himself on the floor by the tub, sitting with his legs criss crossed over one another. It was quiet in the room, the only sounds were the occasional gentle splash when you moved your leg or arm. His eyes were still full of worry, and he was kicking himself big time now.

“I’m so sorry...” He breathed out, running his fingertips dragging leisurely your damp arm that you had resting on the ledge of the bathtub; “I never meant to hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me, Sev. I promise.” You responded, wishing he wouldn’t take this so hard.

When it came to you, Severus took everything to heart. There weren’t many things in the world that made his heart beat with a purpose. You were the single person that allowed him to want to get up in the mornings. The thought of hurting you was enough to break him down. If he could have it his way, you would be indescribably happy with every passing moment of every day. He never wanted you to feel anything other than joy. 

But he knew that life would never allow it.

Your eyebrows dipped when you noticed his attire, wondering why he wasn’t in his own sleepwear. It was much too late for him to go anywhere.

“Where are you going?” You questioned, your voice thick with weary.

“I’m going to go back to the school. I have some grading to do.” He half-lied.

It was true that he did indeed have a stack of papers to be assessed, but that wasn’t the real reason why he felt like he wanted to leave. Severus Snape grading on a Friday night when he had the opportunity to be cuddled up with his lover? He’d choose you every time.

Now you felt bad for causing him to scurry off. You wanted him there with you regardless of what had happened.

“Severus,” You called out tenderly, reaching for his face; “I don’t want you to leave.” 

A genuine look of doubt flashed over his features as his head lulled into your hand.

“I think it would be best if you got some good sleep tonight. I’ll just be in my office so if-”

“Stay with me. Please?” You requested, the thought of sleeping without him was disheartening.

A sigh of awe expelled from his chest. He couldn’t say no to your puppy eyes and slightly pouting lower lip.

“Okay, okay.” He agreed.

“I think that some boyfriend snuggles will make me feel a whole lot better.” You spoke rather cheekily.

He hummed affirmatively. The sound of nestling up with you was impossible to turn down. He took your hand from his face and kissed your palm gingerly, holding the warm skin to his lips for a brief moment. He eventually stood from the floor, but stopped when you held your arms up.

“Help me up?” You asked with the first genuine smile of the evening.

He chuckled, obliging and lifting you effortlessly from the tub. The warm towel was heavenly as you dried off, changing into the clothes that Severus had left for you. Severus went and changed as well, laughing to himself when he exited the closet to see you already curled up. 

The sheets draped over him easily when he laid next to you, waiting for you to nuzzle up to him. He held you close and flush to him, thanking his lucky stars that you were okay.

“My sweet girl...” He hushed out, noting that you were just seconds away from falling asleep; “I love you.” 

You mumbled out a sleepy “I love you” in return before drifting into a deep slumber to snooze off the night’s drama. Severus, as expected, didn’t sleep much that night to ensure that you were sleeping soundly and comfortably. He still felt dreadful, even after you had told him over and over that he didn’t hurt you. The weekend to follow was filled with Severus doting and cherishing over you every chance that he had, trying to make up for what had happened. You were the light of his life after all.

And he prayed that he’d never see that flame go out.

[awanderingdeal]

Hello there! Would you please consider writing a fic where maybe Leo or a fan wears a dress or paints his nails or something else feminine and gets bullied online so the entire team then starts wearing dresses out in retaliation? I think Leo is the perfect example of flipping the V to normative gender ideals

Hi! Thank you for this ask. I hope you don't mind, but I kind of took this as inspiration and ran with it. I used Finn just because it fits my own personal headcanons that he would be the one that would be a bit more adventurous fashion wise, although I definitely agree Leo is the nail painter in that relationship! I hope you like it!

Apologies for the excessive use of italics in this fic!

CW: food mentions, some swearing, implied Instagram bullying and a child with very mild illness (hay fever).

Rating: T

Let me know if you think I missed anything or need to change the rating.

All characters in this fic are from Sweater Weather universe and belong to @lumosinlove

“Are you going to take that dress off?” June asked, blowing on the undercoat she’d just applied to her nails. Finn’s eyes dropped from the TV screen to the black fabric draping over his body. He brushed his fingers over the material, enjoying the texture of the sheer polka dots that decorated the dress. From afar, they were difficult to see, but at this distance they shined. His own little secret.

“No,” Finn replied, the word slipping from his mouth felt foreign, as if he hadn’t chosen to say it. “ Is that okay?”

“It’s generally considered polite to ask before you borrow people’s clothing, but sure, why not?” A loud cheer erupted from the TV notifying Finn the score on the basketball game he had been watching had changed. He desperately wanted to check it, but he continued to hold June’s gaze. “The Knicks,” June offered and Finn breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you going to wear it out later?” She didn’t wait for his reply, proffering two bottles of polish for Finn’s perusal, a redcurrant and a mauve.

“The red,” Finn decided after a beat. “No, I think I’ll get changed before we go to the theatre.”

“Alright then,” June hummed, glancing at her cell. “Logan is trying to call you, by the way.”

“Yes, my cell, I know exactly where that is,” Finn muttered to himself, stabbing at the remote to pause the TV. It took a few minutes of searching, the device hidden between the folds of the bean bag he was lounging on, but eventually Logan’s face was filling all 6.1 inches of the screen. “Lo!”

“Hey.”

Finn loved the greeting on Logan’s tongue, one of those that he never seemed to be able to stop his accent dripping through. Finn thought perhaps the sentiment was painted on his face, Logan peering at him curiously through the lens. “Isn’t that June’s dress?”

The dress. Finn had forgotten all about it. “Yes.”

He hadn’t meant for the reply to be said with such abruptness, but it felt good, all the tension coiling in his chest being released in the word.

Logan’s expression was challenging, similar to that June had given him earlier. “I was just going to say you look better in it.”

“Oh.”

June unfurled her legs from beneath her, throwing herself into view of the screen, her left hand held awkwardly in front of her. “I’m right here, Tremblay!”

***

“Love, you need to get out of the kitchen. You’re being very distracting.”

Finn frowned at Leo’s statement. “I’m not doing anything?” And for once, he wasn’t. He wasn’t trying to guess the weight of irrelevant objects. He wasn’t playing with the stray bits of dough Leo had left aside for decoration. He wasn’t even relaying facts about his current favourite interest. Finn was just watching.

Sometimes he liked to do that. He liked seeing Leo’s long fingers curled around the handle of the knife, his movements fluid and confident, his expression soft with quiet concentration. Occasionally, he’d cock his head, humming contemplatively and Finn could take the opportunity to offer his taste buds.

“It’s not a you problem, it’s a me problem,” Leo chuckled, setting the knife down on the chopping board. “I keep looking up and you’re just -” Finn followed Leo’s gaze as it wandered down to the exposed skin between Finn’s t-shirt and his skirt. “- I’m trying to meal prep and it’s going to take all week at this rate.”

The t-shirt had belonged to Logan, an old Harvard hockey throwback that had managed to make it through several wardrobe purges, so, whilst it was wide enough for Finn, the length was awkward. He hadn’t really considered his boyfriend’s reactions as he’d cut the item to fall several inches above his belly button, the crop looking far more purposeful than it previously had.

“Oh this old thing, I just threw it on,” Finn smirked, as he pushed off the counter he'd been leaning on. He rounded the island, stealing a carrot as he passed, until he planted himself in front of Leo. "Do you want help? It'd be quicker?"

"Now we both know neither of those things are true." Leo raised a critical eyebrow, his laughter smooth and sweet. He turned to face Finn more fully, his hand reaching to pass the forest green material of Finn's skirt through his fingers. "I like this colour on you."

"It has pockets! I totally get why Lily's always shouting about them. They're very convenient." Finn shoved his hands in the well-concealed pocket, pulling his cell from its depths. "See."

"Nice," Leo said, his smile making the edges of his face crinkle. "How about you let me finish up here and then we can find Lo and get his opinion on this outfit?"

"Fine," Finn groaned, resisting the temptation to draw Leo in a hug, and perhaps something more. "I'm gonna go and look over that report the accountant sent over. Do you want me to check yours over too?"

"Please," Leo nodded, his smile growing wider. "You're the best."

"You feed me, I make sure you don't get arrested, that's what relationships are all about, right?"

"Right," Leo ran his fingers over the skirt one last time and stepped back to put some space between them. Finn turned to leave, barely getting a few paces in before Leo called him. "Wait!"

"Yeah?"

"Just one kiss now would be okay."

Finn shook his head, letting Leo draw him back in with a chuckle. Leo's hands, always warm, settled on Finn's waist and he leaned down to press their lips together.

***

Finn winced as Aveline sneezed again, the forceful burst of air covering his sweater in droplets. He felt sorry for her; she was struggling with a bout of hay fever that was making her red-nosed and irritable, but the sweater was one of Finn’s favourites. A vintage, hand knitted blue thing he’d found in a thrift store in Cambridge for an absolute steal. Back then, it had been the scene of Bambi and his friends on it that had grasped Finn’s attention, however, he’d come to love it for its perfect fit and the fact it never failed to spark a conversation.

“Harzy, thank you. You’re a lifesaver.” Finn tried not to let his relief show too much seeing Kris’ approach, his arms outstretched to gather his daughter. “I can’t even put her down to go to the bathroom at the moment without her screaming.”

Finn chuckled, holding a wriggling Aveline tighter to stop her launching herself before her father was close enough. “Papa!” she cried, the exclamation melded neatly into a large yawn.

“Come, mon chou,” Kris soothed, letting Aveline bury her face into the crook of his neck and playing a gentle pattern with his fingers over her back. “Let’s go and see if Vroom-vroom has any magic up his sleeve, ey? He always knows what to do.”

“Vroom-vroom?” Finn whispered the question.

“Sergei,” Kris explained with a gleeful smile despite the tiredness etched into his face. He shifted Aveline into a more comfortable position. “Thanks again for holding her.”

“Anytime.”

Finn had barely been alone in the Dumais’ second living room for a minute when Katie came crashing in. He wondered briefly if he should redirect her back to the other room where everybody was gathered, the thought quickly interrupted by Katie tugging on the hem of his skirt. “Can you spin again? Please?”

Unable to resist her large doe eyes, Finn twirled for her, his skirt swirling and billowing around him until he began to go dizzy.

“Encore! Encore!”

Finn didn’t need Logan around to translate that for him, he’d seen enough Broadway shows to understand the request.

“No more, Katie Belle. I’m going to puke,” Finn laughed, lifting Katie into his arms. “You’re growing too quickly! I swear you were only this big the last time I saw you,” he teased, spreading the thumb and index finger of his free hand a few inches apart.

“I’ll be as tall as you soon!” Katie giggled, patting Finn on his head.

“Then you can carry me,” Finn teased. He was just reaching to bop Katie on the nose when the unmistakable sound of a camera shutter closing grabbed his attention.

“Logan!” Katie gasped, struggling in Finn’s arms for a second like little Aveline had done. “Put me down.”

Finn obliged, watching Katie run toward Logan with a fond smile.

“Did you fix it?” she asked, her voice hopeful.

“Ouais,” Logan nodded, “I gave it back to Maja.”

“Merci, merci, merci!” Katie wrapped her arms around Logan’s hips in a hug before running off, presumably to find Maja.

Finn crossed the room, opening his arms for Logan to walk into. He rested his chin on Logan’s head, breathing in the familiar smell of his shampoo. “What were you up to?”

“Just taking a photo of two of my favourite people,” Logan mumbled into Finn’s chest.

“Can I see?”

“Oui, it’s very cute. ” Logan stepped back, pulling the photo up onto the screen. It was a nice one, both Finn and Katie’s head tipped back slightly with bright laughter. Finn tracked down the photo, Katie’s legs clinging to his waist where the faux leather skirt started. He breathed in, filling his lungs with air and then expelling it quickly.

“Post it.”

Logan looked at him, eyes wide. “Are you sure?”

“Not really, but I’m fed up with changing my clothes all the time and I’m surprised I haven’t been papped anyway. I’d rather do this on my own terms. It’s a fucking skirt, it shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Tell me to do it again,” Logan reached out a hand, squeezing gently as Finn took it.

“Post it.”

***

“Stop reading,” Leo sighed, plucking Finn’s cell from his hand.

Finn matched his sigh, burying his head into his hands. He didn’t need to look at the screen anyway, the words burned into his eyes. How anybody had looked at a photo of two people, one of whom was a child, laughing and had churned out hatred was mystifying to him. Finn had been expecting that though, he’d been around long enough to know there were some assholes out there. When he’d replied to one of the nicer ones he hadn’t really considered how he would feel about that going viral. About becoming the face of something he hadn’t really asked for.

Roaringlion17: Harzy! This fit is spectacular, I love the skirt <3 I just wanted to ask if you are trans and what pronouns you would like us to use?

OfficialFOHara: @roaringlion17 Thank you! He/him pronouns are great! I’m not trans. I just think it’s dumb that boys can’t wear skirts. Or dresses for that matter. I like clothes, not boxes.

The reply had now been featured on every gossip column possible and was beginning to filter into more esteemed news too. One of them had even called him, the face of a revolution, which had made Finn cringe. He supposed it was better than the hateful slurs his PR team were battling to keep off the photo.

“Hey,” Logan took the seat next to Finn where he’d slumped himself at the dining table. “Look at me.” Finn lifted his head, meeting Logan’s eyes, the deep green something he wanted to get lost in right now. He thought Logan was going to ask for the thousandth time if Finn wanted him to delete it, but all he got was the fierce, determined gaze Logan sported on the ice. “This is going to pass. Tomorrow, somebody will cheat on somebody and you will be old news. Do you want to see something?”

Finn nodded. He didn’t know what he was consenting to, but he trusted Logan to make it something that would make him smile. Leo dragged another of the chairs around to sit on Finn’s left hand side, setting his confiscated cell in front of him, the Instagram app open to Thomas’ profile. Logan leaned forward, tapping on the latest photo.

Thomas’ smile was wide as he sat on a window sill, kicking out the long zebra print skirt cloaking his legs. The caption underneath read ‘You’re just jealous that I wear it better than you! #boyswearskirtstoo’

“That’s -”

“Wait a second,” Logan reached for the phone again, setting it down with a picture of James’ visible. He was wearing an ochre coloured corduroy skirt that clearly belonged to Lily, the fabric straining on thighs. I’m feeling myself in this, tbh. Please hold whilst I order one in my size #boys wearskirtstoo.

Finn snorted, the sound wet with the tears he was struggling to hold back.

The hashtags kept coming.

Cap and Loops in their respective jersey’s tucked into pleated skirts. These Lions know fashion is not gendered #boyswearskirtstoo

Ollie in a shimmering gold knee length piece. Shine bright! #boyswearskirtstoo

Nado, Kuny, Smitty and Kane, arms slung around one another's shoulders, all wearing varying shades of pink. On Wednesdays, we wear pink #boyswearskirtstoo. Finn would bet good money that Kuny was behind that caption.

Dumo, Sergei and their wives, alongside their troupe of children, each one of them wearing a different coloured tutu. Dumo had opted to just include the hashtag, or rather his social media team had, because the man himself most definitely did not know how to upload the photo.

Kasey and Natalie looked effortlessly cool dressed in white tennis skirts and floral bomber jackets. I’m not sure what all the fuss is about? #boyswearskirtstoo

Alex was wearing a very similar black skirt to Finn's in his photo. Who wore it better? #boyswearskirtstoo #thatsmylittlebrother

“He’s an idiot, but I love him,” Finn laughed wetly.

“There’s more,” Logan smirked as he tapped at the screen again, almost brimming with an excited energy. He placed the cell back down, leaving his hand to block the next photo a little longer. Finn grabbed the device as soon as Logan revealed the image.

It was perfect.

Leo and Logan lounged on the sofa, a little further apart than they would normally sit. Leo clutching his favourite mug and Logan with sketchpad in hand. They both looked easy in their outfits, as if the skirts were a part of them. Leo’s was long, hitting just above his ankle, a navy lining coated in a tulle that was embellished with celestial bodies. Logan was looking at the camera, his eyes just visible under the brim of his cap. His skirt was shorter, the denim flaring over his thick thighs. In this house we respect people’s right to wear whatever the fuck they want #boyswearskirtstoo

Finn stopped trying to fight the tears, letting the moisture well in his eyes. “Thank you,” he choked out, pushing himself from his chair. Leo and Logan had their arms around him before he could ask. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.” He couldn’t seem to make the words stop, his body shaking with sobs, his boyfriend’s arms remaining sure around him until Finn wiped at his face and muttered an apology. “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for.” Leo swept his thumb over Finn’s cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “What can we do? What do you need?”

Finn let out a heavy breath, leaning into Logan’s hold. “I think I want to send a thank you to the group chat and then snacks and cuddles? I can deal with the world tomorrow.”

“Okay then, snacks and cuddles. We deal with the world tomorrow.”

[lovieebby]

The Crying Game

Poly!Oscar Issac x Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader

Summary: On a cold winter night, when Oscar’s sleep comes and goes, him and Pedro find themselves thinking differently when you cry.

WC: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+!!!! SMUT SMUT SMUT!!!! ddlg themes, crying kink, kinda dub con if you rlly squint, vaginal penetration, bodily fluids, oral/m receiving, heavy dirty talk, poly relationship

Note: Meda and I where talking about me touching base on how my theory of pedro (and oscar) having a crying kink, so here it is! Hope you love it from the depths of my horny corner! AND THANK YOU @pinksdaydream FOR HELPING ME THIS MADE IT 1000 TIMES BETTER!!!! 😩💞

In the large king bed with the heater ridding the cold breeze of the outside snow, Oscar awoke to the glowing moon. His arm was draped over your waist while your legs tangled with Pedro’s, comfortable and calm in the meer hours of the night. Oscar had been tossing and turning most of the night yet didn’t realize he fell asleep when he woke up with his nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

He felt his lashes flutter against the whisps of stray hairs from your now loose bun that had held your hair before you fell in your own sleep. He kept quiet for some time, listening to yours and Pedro’s breathing in hopes it would lull him back to sleep, but his mind and body were wide awake. Nights like these usually consisted of him sneaking out of the warm bed and creeping down stairs to the at home gym in the garage, though something different stirred awake. A little voice chanting erotic words and thoughts as you shifted unknowingly into his hardened member.

With slow and gentle movements, Oscar rolled you completely to your belly and propped your hips up slightly as he crawled behind your sleeping form. You groaned softly, making Oscar grin lazily when your legs spread to brase yourself. Even in your sleep you know your daddy’s touch and the thought made Oscar’s chest swell with pride at his little princess getting ready for him in her sleep.

He brought the blanket down just a tad, letting it lay on the back of your knees and pulling your nightie up your back. Your body still breathed evenly, sleeping peacefully which brought Oscar to spit loudly on your winking lips, bending impossibly close to your pussy to do it once more. He licked his spit through your folds and gathered it at your clenching hole as you mewled brokenly in the fluffy pillows.

You tried to stretch as Oscar folded his pants down, lining his cock up quickly to your entrance before you awoke. The bed dipped with his knees, restling the placement of the blanket and waking Pedro up with a quick intake of air. It took him a moment to understand the situation, but soon aware of what Oscar was doing by the time his cock was seethed completely into your cunt. Pedro’s smile was small and pleasant, watching Oscar fuck you awake. His hand came to lay lazily ontop of your head and brushed the hairs covering your face as your brows furrowed in confusion.

Oscar was slow with his thrusts, but pushing deep within you, making your hips tilt upwards. He felt your walls constrict and relax in one flush movement, your cunt spooked at first but realizing who and what had entered, relaxing its velvet walls around Oscar’s thick cock.

You muttered something under your breath as your heavy eyes opened slowly, Pedro being the first person you see while your body jults and withers. You began to pant in pleasure when your mind caught up with the real world, Pedro’s warm palm pressing on your cheek as you moaned brokenly.

“Someone’s awake,” Pedro cooed, his voice thick with sleep, his eyes trailing to Oscar’s hands fisting your night dress.

“G’mornin’ baby girl,” Oscar grunted, his hips stilling to your ass only to pick up his pace.

You grunted lowly, pouting your lips as Oscar slid out then pushing deep in a slow thrust. His breath was hot and shallow on your overly warm skin, sending your senses haywire at the sudden pleasure.

“P-papa?” You mewled, nose scrunched as your palms came to rub your eyes though Oscar’s thrusts knocked your head closer to the bed, “Daddy!”

Pedro chuckled at your squeal as Oscar hummed in delight with a lazy smirk. You hiccuped with a cry, your arms pushing you up to see your lovers clearly but Oscar and Pedro both had the thought of keeping you down. Pedro’s hand holding your shoulder blades down while Oscar held your hips closer to his. You cried again, mumbling incoherent words as a plea.

“Up! Let me up!” You cried in the sheets, nuzzling your nose in them.

“Jus’ wait baby— Don’t this feel good?” Oscar grunted, thrusting his cock in and stilled to walk closer to you by his knees, making his presence known. The pressure made your eyes roll back with a short hitch of breath.

“S-so go-good daddy…” You panted as you looked at Pedro, your eyes gloomy and teary eyed.

Pedro’s gut dropped, and not the kind where he felt guilty or bad, it was a raw feeling that he’d do anything and everything to see you cry, whether it was for him or Oscar. Pedro released your shoulders and sat up quickly to grab Oscar’s attention.

“Look look look.” He whispered, pulling your hair away from your soft and drowsy face, “Look at that…”

You sniffled when Oscar peeked at your damp cheeks and heavy eyes, your pants deep and erratic as you blew them into the sheets. He groaned at the sight of you. Your hair messy and untamed with your cheeks pressed to the soft bed as your body slumped in relief when he ceased his thrusts. Oscar quickly pulled out and turned you around, your back thudding on the bed in a bounce as you squealed in surprise.

“God fucking damnit princess.” He said, perching your legs up to your chest as you looked down at his gleaming cock.

Pedro whistled lowly, drawing your attention to your Papa before Oscar plummeted back into you. This time he could see every inch of you perfectly, your pussy fluttering to be filled and the sheer fabric that covered your chest that did little to conceal anything. Pedro could see it too, itching to rip your nighty straight down your chest to fondle with them, pitching and pulling until you come on Oscar’s cock.

Before you could count to three, Daddy’s hands were wiping your tears with a teasing coo, while Papa stretched the fabric of your dress down your chest to make your breasts exposed to them. You gasped and whined at their pulling and pushing, feeling like a bone for two hungry dogs. You cried again while your Daddy’s cock relentlessly pounded into you with need as your Papa twisted and tugged on your peaked nipples.

The fingers, cock and dirty whispers were too much. It was a toe curling burn that crept up your spine and throughout your ligaments; a coil that was about to snap. You couldn’t help but to bend your back into a painful arch and beg loudly for your release.

“P-please!” You moaned, thrusting your hips up to meet Oscar as your body ached for anything. A shove, a touch, a smack. Anything would be perfect to your release. “Daddy please!”

You looked at Oscar as you pleaded, but before he could answer, you turned your head to Pedro, screaming his name without a care of how pathetic your voice sounded.

“What do you need sweetie?” Pedro asked, coming closer to pull your head in his lap while he sat up against the headboard, “Is daddy and papa not giving you everything you want?” Oscar chimed, his warm hand coming to rest on the base of your neck.

“N-no! I-I have to cum! Please let me cum Daddy!” You defended, tilting your head back and forth to beg to your lovers. “Papa!”

Oscar moaned as fresh tears fell down your puffy cheeks, his cock bouncing in the warm walls of your cunt as his bollocks tightened. He was ready to blow his release, but stopped his movements and pulled out, making you whine as you cried harder. He sat back on his heels with a groan, his hand running over your slickened folds and stretched cunt.

“What about Papa? Hmm baby? You gonna give him some love before you cum?” He cooed with a pout, his head tilting as you nodded your head fast.

It was a perfect way to prolong his release, and Pedro knew it too. An all knowing smirk graced Pedro’s lips as he bit his tongue. His cock was impossibly hard in his fleece pants, hanging heavy on his thick thighs, clenching every moment you moaned and mewled.

“You look so pretty on Papa’s cock princess. Go show me and Papa yeah?” Oscar’s words were hypnotic, dripping from his lips like honey as he persuaded you.

He gripped your chin gently, rubbing your rosey bottom lip with his thumb, entranced by the thought of you perfectly seated on Pedro’s cock. You moved your head quickly when Pedro’s hands came down to rub the rounds of your breasts, your cheek laying lazily on his bicep as you looked at his darkened eyes and crazed peppered hair swirled around his beautiful face.

“May I have your cock Papa?” You asked sweetly, jutting your lips as you rose your chest for him to grope you more.

“Ah, using your manners? Such a good little girl I see.” Pedro adored, your eyes watery and wide while your lips pouted, he couldn’t say no. He’d be a fool if he did.

He didn’t wait for you to respond, hooking his arms under yours and lifting you up to sit in his lap. His legs where spread out before your ass landed on his thighs. You wiggled back, cooing and mewling as your Papa fumbled to barely pull his pants down to forcefully place you on his cock. It was a different feeling than Oscar— uncut and thicker, fulfilling and smooth. Pedro’s manhood stretched you further and made you squeal and squirm, him jabbing and demanding at your cervix, unlike Daddy’s who sweetly kisses your endings.

“Show Papa what you can do, let Daddy see it.” Oscar grunted, laying on his elbows as he gripped his cock, letting you and Pedro watch him pleasure himself at the sight of you two.

Pedro was the first to move as you drooled over Oscar’s show, watching intently as his big hands covered his slippery cock. Your breath hitched with Pedro’s fast and deep thrusts, your hips working in speed to match your Papa’s momentum. This had to be one of the favored mornings, your cunt onto his cock while you watched Daddy fumble with his, it made you moan louder with your ass bouncing harder on Pedro. And the man loved every minute of it, watching your eyes gloss as you watched Oscar and your sweet juices coating yourself along with him. It made a lewd squelch, making Pedro pant his moans as he squeezed your waist to keep your bouncing hard and deep.

You were repeatedly being impaled upon Pedro’s cock, it tore you in two so deliciously. There was a burn from him stretching you but it added on to the pleasurable ache between your legs. You were starting to lose yourself in the pleasure, your hips starting to stutter. Whines starting leaving your mouth, you didn’t think you could handle it anymore. You were still reeling from Oscar, the way he pushed into your unguarded walls to right now with how tempting he looks. Your body was buzzing as Pedro started taking over.

“Can’t handle it, Peach?” Pedro mocked as he flipped you onto your back, your movements too slow for his liking. He slid back into you and started pounding hard and fast, making you yelp as you covered your mouth. You were scared of the sounds that would come out if you didn’t.

You used your other hand to press it against Pedro’s tummy, trying to get him to let up on his pace.

“Uh uh, baby. You can handle Papa, show me how much of a good girl you can be and take it.” Oscar said as Pedro pushed your hand away.

“No! It’s too big.” You whined, making both Oscar and Pedro laugh at you, though the laughter soon turned into guttural groans as more tears cascaded from your eyes. Both men didn’t think they would be able to last much longer.

From the side view of Oscar to the way Pedro pounded his cock, you could help but mewl and shake as you held your legs up to your chest. The tilt of your hips drove Pedro’s cock deeper as your fingernails created half moons on your soft skin. You clenched and pulsed around you Papa, your eyes becoming blurry with tears while your pretty little head fogged. You couldn’t hold your delayed release even if you wanted to, it came quick and hard, making your mouth drop open in a silent squeal. Your tongue jutted out slightly as your eyes crossed.

“Ooh yeah baby— Fuck! Su-ch a good girl!” Pedro gasped, smirking with an open mouth as he imprinted your fucked face in his memories.

Oscar released his hand from his own cock like it had burnt him, panting as his member flexed for more. The sight was beautiful; your curvy body bent deliciously, your face flushed as you looked at the beds canopy with your mouth wide. The veins in your neck protruding out, blood pumping quickly before you finally spoke out.

“Fuck!” You squealed brokenly, the tears finally falling down your sweet cheeks. “More more more!”

Your mumbled words were your lovers dream, a blissed demand that any man would oblige. Pedro groaned loudly, shifting his hips deeper into your milking walls as they enchanted him to stay put. Oscar watched with awe as he quickly moved to you, his knees quaking as he did. He placed his cock head close to your mouth and you didn’t think twice as you opened your mouth quickly to trap his head in your warm awaiting mouth.

“Is this what you want sweetheart? Huh?” Oscar asked, Daddy shuttered, his eyes fluttering closed as he smiled wide like a cat that got the cream, “Both of your pretty holes filled?”

“Look so pretty baby…” Pedro mumbled with a curt grunt, pulling and pushing slowly to keep himself from blowing his warm seed into your inviting canal.

You rose your neck, letting Daddy slide easily in your throat. Small mewls and moans were gurgled around him as your eyelids hooded over your blown out pupils, attempting to smile lazily around him. Oscar fucked your face, slow and agonizing at the first few thrusts, then became erratic and aggressive like he was claiming every inch of your mouth. The sight persuaded Pedro to move, captured by yours and Oscar’s grunts and muffled moans. The feeling of Pedro invading your warm walls and Oscar nudging the back of your throat had you close to a second orgasm.

Pedro could tell you were close by the way you were starting to close your thighs, a clear sign that you wanted more but didn’t know how to ask for it.

“Do you want another, peach? Is that what you’re asking for?” Pedro asked. He enunciated every word with a thrust, making you squeal.

“Ask nicely, you’re so good at using your manners peachy girl.” Oscar said, forcing himself deeper into your warm throat.

You loved hearing his grunts, sending your nerves closer and closer to another release, as did Pedro’s unrelenting pace. The pad of Pedro’s thumb found your swollen and puffed clit, the texture of his thumb made you jerk at the sudden contact. He started rubbing in a circular motion, the build up didn’t take long; stars bursting behind your eyes as your back arched off the bed. Oscar came with an erratic thrust of his hips just as Pedro did, filling your greedy holes with bliss.

You eagerly gulped down all that your Daddy had to offer with weak whimpers as your cunt filled to the brim with your Papa’s hot cum. You willingly and joyfully took every drop your lovers gave, filling you up sweetly and beautifully while you panted and moaned.

The moment Oscar released his grip from your tangled hair, you gasped loudly, your heart pounding in astonishment of the lewdness you succumbed to. You didn’t regret a minute of the rough and passionate fucking, you loved every single thing about and secretly hoped for more. But the flushed cheeks and heavy eyes of Oscar told you that the silver haired fox was done for the moment.

You panted with a soft smile as Oscar slumped back on his heels while Pedro’s soft hands caressed your soft tummy, pushing gently to watch his release seep out of your puffed folds. He groaned again, rough and loud, his cheeks puffing in a long exhale while his eyes locked on his cock leaving your body as well as his seed.

It was a dream come true before your friend the sun rose with its bright rays of life, warming the cold ground and awakening the winter birds. But little did the sun know, you danced with the full moon in the most luxurious way.

Taglist will be added in a reblog!!!

[octopodeez]

The Devil in Your Bed Pt. 1 (NSFW Edward Kenway x Reader)

He fights like a devil dressed as a man, and fucks like one, too except not yet bc in this chapter he’s stressed af

WC: 2125

Edward looks at you as if he’s never seen a woman before, and you know immediately he’s married. His eyes never stay in one place. They dart around your body comparatively, and you can only imagine what’s going through his mind. The image of her is surely floating behind you as he takes note of a small scar she doesn’t have, a freckled shoulder where hers is bare, lashes that don’t curl quite as much. You’re different, and he’s trying so hard to pretend it doesn’t shake him.

He waits for you to undress, and while you consider making a sly remark, you decide this is not the time or place or man for any of that. Not if you want to fuck him, anyways, and Jaysus, you do. He’s a devastating specimen, with a thick Welsh accent and smile that could end you, and you’ll never forgive yourself if you scare him off. So, you bite your tongue and tug at the ribbons of your stays, working quickly in case he starts to lose his nerve.

As you’re busy shedding the layers of skirts and petticoats and everything that makes you a proper lady, he casts his tunic to the side. It’s a simple motion, albeit somewhat infuriating that he gets to use such little effort while you struggle in a sea of faded cotton, but the thought is quickly forgotten when you get a good look at him. Edward is a masterpiece, all tan and smooth, save for a tattoo of a woman on his bicep. The wife, most likely. Something he surprised her with before he left—a promise to stay true and come home once he had the means to give her a good life. Damn privateers are all the same.    

Edward has never felt more exposed. God is watching him right now, he’s sure of it. Not even gone a month and already he’s laying with another woman. Or trying to, anyways. His guilt is crippling and the rum doesn’t help, but he’s determined to see this through. Johnson and Fletcher—or was it Williams and Smythe?—shoved him your way, and who is he to say no? He’s in desperate need of a little respect and they’re the type of men worth impressing. There are certainly worse ways to earn it than fucking a whore.

This is for his career, he reassures himself. This just brings him one step closer to the better life he promised Caroline—Caroline who isn’t even his anymore. But he’s not ready to admit that yet.

God continues to watch.

 You’re naked and chilly and his hesitation is beginning to lose its charm. Edward still has his britches on, so you decide it’s time to move things along. Reaching for the candle by the bedside, you offer a coquettish smile, which he half-heartedly returns, and take a last look at his chiseled body. His sandy hair. His handsome face. Perhaps bedding him in the darkness isn’t such a bad thing after all. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but there’s a quality about him that overwhelms you. It’s sexy, alluring, and driving you mad.

You lick your fingers and pinch the flame out. A silly parlor trick you learned ages ago that, for some reason, men found irresistible. Edward is no exception. His demeanor shifts now that he can hide behind the darkness. He’s more confident now and able to confirm your suspicions that yes, his hands are good for more than tying knots on a ship. Even so, the thought doesn’t escape you that maybe he’s simply having an easier time pretending you’re her. It’s not the best feeling in the world, but it’s one you’ve grown accustomed to—a hazard of sleeping with sailors. Their hearts always, always, always belong to someone else first.  

His trousers drop unceremoniously, and he pushes you to the bed. It isn’t quite the reveal you would have hoped for, but the silhouette of his cock standing at attention is still something to behold. You bite your lip at the sight of it. It’s built like the rest of him, defined and perfect, with a slight curve. A familiar emptiness grows inside you; a ravenous hunger that can only be sated right here and now with that, so you reach for him, suddenly feeling more like a snake than a woman, sexy and slithering effortlessly towards a frightened little bilge rat.

A frightened little bilge rat. You purse your lips and sigh, choosing to rest your hand on his hip rather than his cock. Even the married ones have relaxed by now, but Edward remains tense. Snake or woman, it’s killing the mood. You need your men eager.

“Edward,” you say, “we don’t have to do this.”  

“What?”

“We don’t have to do this,” you repeat gently. “We can just sit here for a while and I’ll make a big show of wobbling down the stairs to make it believable for your men.”

He looks offended.

“Is something not to your liking?” he asks, making a gesture to his nether region. You don’t miss the genuine surprise in his voice, and it occurs to you that this is perhaps the first time a woman has rejected him like this. He’s a handsome man from a small town with all his teeth intact, not to mention the ruggedness about him that especially must have attracted the wealthier girls, bitter in their arranged marriages.

“You seem hesitant, is all.”

“I’m no virgin if that’s what you’re getting at.”

He sounds like a pouting child, and you try your hardest not to giggle. God, he’s cute, which is starting to make things complicated.

“No, that’s not what I’m getting at. But even if you were—”

“I’m not.”

“—even if you were,” you say again, ignoring him, “there’s no shame in that. I wouldn’t mind getting first crack at a man looking the way you do.”

Edward blinks as he processes what you said, and then smiles. A genuine smile that makes his eyes twinkle, followed by a lighthearted chuckle, and then a kiss. It’s a fluid motion. He leans down and presses his rough lips to yours, tenderly, gently, softly—much softer than a man whose breath tastes so heavily of rum should be capable of. And then you remember: he’s married. He’s married and you don’t win a wife with harsh kisses. Edward hasn’t been at sea long enough to forget how to be…sweet.

He grazes his tongue along your jaw, all the way down to the crook of your neck and sucks at the skin. His arm shifts as he pumps at his cock in long, deliberate movements. You try to get a small peek at what could only be the most erotic sight you’d ever see, but he’s relentless in his sucking and keeps you pressed firmly to the mattress. You’re growing wetter and much more impatient.

“Edward,” you sigh. He makes a muffled noise of acknowledgement against your neck.  “Fuck me.”

 Edward freezes. To you, it’s brief. To him, it’s an eternity. His brain is overloaded with the breathy sound of your demand: fuck me. He can’t recall if he ever heard Caroline swear. She was smart as a whip and much too worldly to need words like those—it was what made him fall in love with her to begin with—but god, did he miss the dirt that came with girls who said things like fuck me while they spread their legs and beckoned him in.

Caroline is gone, and even though he still hasn’t fully accepted it, he knows it’s true. Caroline is gone, off to live the life her parents wanted, and though it hurts, Edward knows she deserves better than him, anyways. Caroline is gone, and so is the part of him who loved her—the part who wanted to have a wife and a family. Caroline is gone, and though she left a gaping hole, he’s more than happy to cauterize the wound with pretty girls like you who say fuck me.

And so he does.

 Edward’s teeth sink into your neck and you gasp, surprised at the sudden change. There’s a beast inside him that you didn’t see before, and it’s all rabid fangs and claws that aim to mark every last inch of you. He’s the impatient one, now, and doing everything he can to be inside you, and Jaysus; you’re more than happy to oblige.

“Hands and knees,” he grunts, already gripping your waist to flip you over.

He’s radiating that special feral type of energy that builds within sailors when they’re out at sea. Adventure boils the blood and—smack. Edward slaps your rear with an open palm, leaving behind a wonderfully stinging sensation and (probably) a bright red mark. Your jaw goes slack at the feeling, and then you smile and make a show of arching your back more.

Edward exhales sharply through his nose as he admires you. Farmgirls and small-town heiresses were all so shy, many of them never doing more than lifting their petticoats—granted, that had its own appeal, especially behind taverns and barns when their husbands or fathers could round the corner at any moment—but never has he seen someone so on display. He spanks you again, harder this time, and bites his lip at the slickness of your sex.

“Ready?” He feels stupid asking. Your ass is in the air and your pussy is dripping—of course you are, but he was raised proper. He always asks.

“Yes,” you whine. You’re aching all over and if he doesn’t do something you might explode from the sheer frustration.

 He rubs the tip of his cock over your opening, marveling at the feeling before pushing himself inwards. Edward lets out a long, breathy groan as he does, inhaling only when he reaches his hilt. Fuck.

“Fuck,” you hiss his thoughts out loud and drop your head. Your shoulder blades look so lovely from his perspective. They tense and then relax as you adjust to him; that slight curve of his cock already doing wonders to your body. Edward places his hand right where they meet, partly to steady himself as he begins to thrust, and partly out of admiration. You’re a stunning, sexual creature who could be with any of the other sailors who leered at you back at the pub, but you chose him. Sheep farmer, Edward Kenway, who had spent barely a month at sea.

He wants to be slow so he can enjoy this, but the way you shift and groan and whimper is too much—and frankly, its been far too long since he’s had someone. It’s a crying fucking shame that he’s a human man, but fuck, fuck, fuck, you feel incredible.

 Edward moves his hand to the scruff of your neck and pushes you down further into submission, and Jaysus, you love it, you love it, you love it so much. Your head is smashed against the mattress and it feels so delightfully dirty, you don’t care that you can hardly breathe. He thrusts harder and you moan louder.

The pad of Edward’s finger finds your clit, and you cry out in surprise. It was so rare to find a man who actually knew where it was and what to do with it, but he knows what he’s doing. He knows what patterns to rub and what spots make your toes curl the most. You curse. You say every dirty word you know, and maybe invent a few, too, as he keeps thrusting and rubbing and—

He spanks you again. He fucking spanks you again, and you’re certain the force made your soul leave your body and ricochet against the walls. And then:

“You like that, eh? Such a dirty little thing.” You don’t have the breath to spare in order to ask him to keep talking, but did it matter? His voice is nowhere near as confident as his words. It shakes as he tries so hard to keep himself together, but you can feel the sweat on his hands and loss of rhythm in his thrust. He’s close.

Edward’s fingers abandon your clit as he scrambles to pull out of you. He nearly falls to the ground as he does, but manages to regain his balance just in time to spill all over your back—all over your shoulder blades that rise and fall so beautifully as you pant. He grunts as he does. It’s loud and guttural, and you’d do anything in the world to hear it again, but fuck. You’re nowhere close to climax.

And he’s already getting dressed.

Damn privateers really are all the same.

This can also be found on Ao3! Kudos are always appreciated (and if you MAYBE wanted to leave a comment, that’d be pretty cool too). Find it here: (x)

[danger-xylophones]

Ice General Part 4 (Rex x reader)

{masterlist}

Warnings: my attempt at writing sparring, female pronouns...that should be it

<- Previous

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“Gentlemen, set your blasters to stun.” 

Never before had such a command, given simply and without any emphasis, sent such unbridled bewilderment shooting down his spine. It caused the captain to freeze for a moment as his fellow clones wasted no time following the Ice general’s order before they collectively pulled on their helmets and took up their stance-aiming for the general. “Ready?” Came Y/n’s smooth voice once more, prompting Rex to jump into action and follow the lead of Commander Fritz who stood across the makeshift battlefield from him. His stance was wide, solid, evidence of the years of training he and his fellow clones had gone through-he seemed oddly calm for someone about to open fire on their own general. “Begin!” And all hell broke loose. Fritz, Empio, Jekyll, Hyde, and Codex opened fire immediately giving Y/n barely any time to react. But react she did, nonetheless. In one fluid movement, she snatched up her lightsabers and ignited the blades before flicking away the blaster bolts like it was nothing, and aiming them back at the soldiers who quickly dodged. Phantom, Boom, and Nexus took a second before catching on to add to the growing chaos. Rex was still lagging behind. This was...an unusual style of sparring for the man. 

“Ay, Captain Rex, you might want to wake up!” Bolt’s perpetual sing-song voice called out to compel Rex to get his act together just in time to flinch out of the way of stun blast zooming towards him. With a readying shake of his head, Rex resolved to at least participate even if he thought this was borderline dangerous. He aimed and fired at the general’s exposed back. She reacted sharply, turning on a dime to slash at the ring formed by the stun shot and sending it into the dirt before whirling around to counter another one and another one. It was here that the circle formed by the clones began to morph and evolve-steadily increasing the pressure on the general. Ice reacted accordingly by growing more and more mobile which made it more difficult for the clone fence to take on a solid and maintainable shape. Without warning, Fritz, Jekyll, and Hyde dove for Ice-catching her, the shinies, and the captain off guard. Y/n was quick to deactivate her sabers so she could dive out of the way of them. Codex, who seemed to figure out what the three older clones were trying to set up, signaled to Nexus and began to fire on Y/n who was forced to twist impossibly to get out of the way of the onslaught of stun shots. Phantom and Boom moved in next but they were lacking coordination and their shots began getting in the way of each other. Rex was about to whistle to get their attention so he could help them with their sloppy form when Empio beat him to it. 

“Phantom, Boom, aim for either side of her-it’ll keep her pinned so she can’t activate her sabers.” The quiet captain barked sharply through the comlink in Rex’s borrowed helmet which startled him given how he had never heard his fellow captain speak any louder than a whisper. He wasn’t able to dwell on it for too long though as Empio’s order came too late. Y/n managed to activate one of her sabers, the green blade returning to its duty of acting as a shield, and she had already begun sending the shots back. Codex didn’t have enough time to dodge. He was the first to go down-defeated by his own deflected stun clipping his calf. Empio let out a curse. Next went Nexus. 

“E and Phantom-move to her six! Boom, Jekyll, with me. Rex with Hyde-he knows what to do.” Fritz’s voice cut through as he darted away. Hyde had just enough time to grumble under his breath before running in the opposite direction of Fritz. Hyde stopped firing and Rex was given the chance to make out Fritz’s plan-pull Y/n’s focus in different directions by splitting the clones into groups where they could bombard her with concentrated fire. Good, but the general had already shown that she could handle deflecting shots from all directions. What was different about this? 

“Captain Rex,” Hyde’s voice crackled through the channel, “Fritz is going to begin by firing on Y/n, Boom and Jekyll have orders to delay their own shots by two seconds. Then E and Phantom will fire on a two-second delay and then us. Got it?” The sergeant’s voice was clipped, clearly portraying his distaste for being paired with Rex. “It’s a new strategy he’s testing out.” He huffed, unamused. Rex blinked. Ah. Great, testing out a new strategy at the moment it would be needed was always a good idea. “There he goes.”

Rex looked away from the sergeant in time to see Commander Fritz fire on the general, followed by Boom and Jekyll. Y/n deflected them well enough. With a pivot of her body that allowed her to keep most of the clones in her visible spectrum, she calmly flicked the shots away including Rex and Hyde’s and took down Boom. It was like she knew that Fritz would try this. Which might explain why Rex suddenly heard Fritz’s voice crackle to life inside the helmet. “Rex, Hyde, E, and Phantom, charge her.” Hyde, Fritz, and Phantom wasted no time and mimicked the early attempted tackle. Y/n, acting purely on instinct raised her hand with two fingers splayed and picked Hyde and Phantom up before pushing them away. The two soldiers skidded on the dirt out of the makeshift ring they had set up meaning they were out. Which meant that now it was down to Empio, Fritz, Jekyll, and Rex. Now that she didn’t have to compete with three soldiers trying to tackle her at the same time, Y/n had enough time to latch on to Empio’s fist. She spun the Captain around to effectively use him as a shield against the continuing bombardment from Fritz and Jekyll. Jekyll wasn’t fast enough in diverting his shot and ended up stunning Empio who crumpled to the ground. Rex heard Fritz grumble under his breath - it appeared as though his plan was falling apart in front of him. Once again, his borrowed helmet crackled to life. “Ok, new plan. Jekyll and I are going to try and pull her focus - Rex, keep your fire concentrated on Ice. Jekyll and I will keep her busy and try and to give you an opening.” Rex barely got a ‘yes, sir’ out before Fritz and Jekyll put the plan in motion. The three all kept their fire trained on the Ice general. Y/n kept up the fight, deflecting each blast as best she could but it was clear that she was getting tired - her strikes were getting sloppy, her turns not as sharp, and the deflections of the stun shots flew wherever they pleased. 

Fritz and Jekyll, true to the commander’s plan, had succeeded in dividing Ice’s attention though by taking up positions on either side of her which forced the young Jedi to rapidly turn on her heel in order to deflect the shots. That left her back open. Rex seized his chance, raising his borrowed blaster he prepared to fire at the Jedi whose back was still turned towards him. The shot rang out. Y/n turned and deflected it. She was tackled to the ground. Fritz was on her back, trying to muscle the lightsabers out of her hands while Jekyll aimed his blaster off to the side of her head. Rex followed his lead. “Do you yield?” Fritz barked out when it became evident Ice couldn’t get out of the pin she was in.

“I...yield.” She sighed and whoops and hollers erupted from the gathered clones. 

“Where does that put us Bolt?” Fritz yelled to the medic already making the rounds through his brothers that had been knocked back or stunned. 

“Clones seven, General five.” Bolt hummed merrily as he helped Empio to his feet. The captain staggered a bit before brushing Bolt off to make him go help the others. Meanwhile, Jekyll and Fritz grabbed Ice’s arms and hauled her to her feet the same time a whispered ‘damnit’ slipped out. 

“Drinks on me the next time we’re on Coruscant then.” She chirped in the monotone way she speaks despite the loss. 

Hyde, who was still sat on the ground snorted inside his helmet. “Drinks are always on you, Ice.” She stuck her tongue out at him. Hyde took the helmet off just to retaliate. And a ghost of a smile slipped onto Ice’s face but it was gone in a flash. 

Ice was looking at him. “That goes for you and your men too, Captain Rex.” Her face betrayed nothing, her tone even less. But before he could stutter out so much as a ‘thank you’, Bolt had intercepted by wrapping her cloak around her (Rex noted he took extra care to not touch her skin and even helped hide any that was exposed). Fritz led her away with a gentle tug on her cloak sleeve with the rest of the men following after. Bolt stayed behind with Rex, wordlessly standing next to him with hands clasped behind his back. 

He didn’t say anything till Codex and Boom were out of earshot. “This was her idea, y’know.” Bolt’s voice cut through the silence. Rex turned to him to find the medic looking at him out of the corner of his eye. “To invite you to therapy.” 

“Therapy?” The modulated sound of Rex’s own voice startled him and he remembered he still had Bolt’s helmet on. He snatched it off of his head. “How is this thera-”

“Course, I’m the one that told her you were awake.” The statement made Rex’s stomach plummet. Bolt turned to face him entirely. “I know you think we’re hiding something from you, Captain. But, believe me, we’re not.” His face fell and Rex was surprised by how small his brother looked in that moment. “We’re trying to forget.” His sing-song voice was quiet. “Will you let us?” 

Bolt plucked his helmet from Rex’s hand and started to walk away and the captain was left wondering what his next move should be.

..........................................

Today was the last day. Tomorrow, the 205th were being shipped out to who knows where and the 501st were going back to Coruscant. Rex should feel excited. Coruscant meant he got the closest thing to a break he, as a captain in the GAR, would ever experience. But he wasn’t. 

Maybe he should’ve felt sad to be parting with the 205th - he could see some of his brothers animatedly chatting with some of the the younger members of Glacier company - but he wasn’t close with anyone. He thought, starting this assignment, he might be close with Fritz but given his strained relationship with the general who seemed closest with Fritz that didn’t seem like an option in the near future. Maybe Jekyll or Hyde? But the same thing that applied to Fritz applied to them. The shinies seemed too scared to talk to him and those in between, neither the shinies or the Veterans, tended to keep a respectful distance. They befriended the other men of the 501st but stayed away from Rex. If he was honest, he felt like a hornet that attacked the queen bee. 

He wanted to resent Ice. But Bolt’s words stopped him. 

And made him want to apologize. So, he went looking for Ice. He didn’t care if they didn’t become friends, he’d be okay ignoring what he suspected was going on between Ice and Fritz, he’d eventually let Jannex 1 go. He would just apologize for making Ice and the Veterans feel uncomfortable and then forget he ever met them. A solid plan...if Ice had been alone. 

As it was, she was with Skywalker and Fritz in the hastily resurrected tent that was serving as the center of operations for the whole mission looking up at the holographic forms of Mace Windu, Yoda, and Ahsoka. Something was happening and Rex immediately began to walk faster. He entered into the darkened tent trying to hide the silent shame clawing its way through him - why didn’t he know there was a meeting going on? 

“Ah, Rex - just in time.” Skywalker greeted him. 

“Sirs.” Rex greeted as professionally as he could with a bow of his head. Y/n turned to look at him but said nothing, just stepped to the side to create a gap between her and Anakin. Which allowed him to walk in a straight line right up to the com they were all gathered around. 

“As I was saying-” Mace Windu picked up where he left off, “I’m sorry to have to do this to the both of you but the presence of the droid army on Elaroth highlighted that a sweep of the nearby Outer Rim planets would be well advised.” 

“Accompany, Y/n L/n for the first few, you will, Skywalker.” Yoda added on upon noticing the growing confusion on the young knight’s face. 

“With all due respect, masters, my battalion should be able to handle a sweep on our own. I know that the 501st is long overdue on leave.” Ice piped up without warning, admittedly startling Rex as he had quite forgotten that she was standing right next to him. 

“Know this, we do, young L/n.” Yoda began in a gentle voice. “Suggested that Skywalker accompany you, it was, by Master Mundi.” 

Something shifted and all present felt it. Rex chanced a glance at Ice’s face and it looked like she’d seen a ghost. Or been stabbed. 

“M-” her voice cracked and Y/n cut herself off to clear her throat, “may I ask why my master would do such a thing?” Her voice was measured but even Rex could hear the underlying venom that dripped from each word. Wordlessly, Mace Windu and Yoda turned to Ahsoka whose hologram reached forward as if to press a button. A moment later, the image of a planet placidly spinning appeared before them. 

Yoda looked right at Y/n. “To Jannex 1, you must go.” 

Taglist: 

@tararuthven / @questforgalas / @000ayfh / @pinkiemme / @obi-robi-kenobi / @apocalypticwafflekitten / @cherryxcyarika / @justalittlecloud 

Notes: 

Gasp :0, me, actually working on my multi-part fics? 

Next -> (Coming at some point)

[karasimpno]

Karasimpno Does FluffVember Day 1 - Akaashi

Karasimpno FluffVember Masterlist Sick Day (gn reader) 2.6k words | Warnings: a liiiitle spicy, sick reader, painkillers, so much fluff I can’t. This is so self-indulgent I’m so sorry

The first thing you became aware of was the sunlight streaming through the curtains in your bedroom. You inhaled deeply, sensation crawling into your fingers and toes as you turned your head on the pillow, breathing in the morning. You exhaled with a smile as your eyes landed on the beautiful man propped up against the headboard, brow furrowed over his sleek reading glasses as he typed sporadically at the computer on his lap. Too focused on his work, he hadn’t registered your movement as more than restless sleep, unaware that your eyes were raking over his relaxed form.

You took advantage of the opportunity just to watch him work. This was what you had always dreamed of - waking up on bright Sunday mornings to roll over and find your childhood-best-friend-turned-boyfriend in bed beside you. You unconsciously bit your lip, wondering how you got so lucky. This was bliss, you thought.

“Hey sexy,” your not-so-sexy morning voice croaked out - deeper than usual. Akaashi’s eyebrows shifted upwards in slight surprise as he inhaled, taking in your eyes on his. The corners of his lips barely tipped upwards and you recognized the beautiful smile for what it was, returning it in full force with one of your own. His hand, slender and angular, slipped off the keyboard and found its way into yours under the blanket. Just watching the ocean of his eyes was all the joy you ever needed. You leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to the back of his hand.

“Good morning,” he breathed, that barely-there smile still on his lips. You fluttered your tired eyes to clear the sleep from them and wormed your head onto his lap so you could see what he was working on. Wordlessly skimming your eyes over the document, the time in the corner of the screen caught your eye - 11:37. You sat bolt upright, which you instantly regretted as a splitting pain shot through your head, causing you to hunch over, fingertips pressing to your forehead.

Light fingers found your back. “Hey...” Akaashi started, the unvoiced question clear. 

“Yeah, no, just...headache,” you explained disjointedly. “I didn’t realize how late it was.”

“Yeah it was later than you usually sleep but you hardly ever get to rest so I didn’t want to wake you,” Akaashi said in an even tone - though the deep care in his words wasn’t lost on you. He pulled a few fingers through your hair. “Maybe too much wine last night?” he teased, the slightest hint of a glimmer in his eye. You groaned. “Maybe,” you admitted. You laid back down on the pillows.

“Can we just watch Netflix today?” you asked, a little pitifully. That familiar twitch of the corner of his lips. “Sure,” he said, leaning over to press a kiss to your forehead. “Do you want me to make breakfast or anything?” Akaashi asked. You frowned, the thought of food, for once, not very appetizing.

“Nah, I’m not really that hungry,” you answered, fumbling in the drawer of your bedside table for some painkillers. “Where did I...” you muttered, then felt a touch on your arm. You looked over. Akaashi had the pills you sought cupped in his fingers as he held them out to you. You shot him a playfully annoyed smirk. You were always looking for things that he happened to produce in the blink of an eye. “Stop being so perfect,” you teased, grabbing the water bottle from your night stand as you took the pills from him.

“I can’t help it, I love you too much,” he said, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. You couldn’t help your smile either and pecked him quickly on the lips after swallowing the pills. “I love you too, Keiji.” His deep eyes were dark with warmth. You grabbed the remote and flicked on Netflix, sinking further into the pillows as Keiji’s light keystrokes filled the silence before you picked something to watch.

It was a perfect Sunday afternoon, not even leaving the bed yet as show after show began and ended, your quiet lover’s presence all you needed. Before you knew it, it was a little after 2pm and you were stretching your limbs after having been in the same position for so long. Your left toes accidentally brushed against Akaashi’s calf and you didn’t miss the flick of teal that darted to your face. Your eyebrows raised a bit, meeting the glance. His right hand came up and affectionately moved through your hair a few times, making your scalp tingle. You felt yourself melting a little under his touch, your eyelids fighting a flutter as you bit gingerly on your lower lip. 

Without looking, Keiji used his other hand to shift his laptop to his bedside table, moving forward to plant a tender kiss to your expectant lips. You would never get tired of those lips, soft and gentle between yours. You sighed into him, raising your hand to cup his cheek and letting it rest there as he deepened the kiss, his nose lovingly nudging against yours. For lack of a better expression, your eyes felt like they were floating in your skull. There was an enticing rustle of sheets as Akaashi shifted his weight until he was over you, beginning to suck at your lower lip. You inhaled deeply through your nose and your breath caught at the back of your throat, tickling a bit. You cleared your throat but otherwise ignored the feeling and focused your attentions on the deft tongue beginning to lightly taste you, making your brain a little fuzzy.  You reveled in the deliciously soft sounds of your lips dancing with each other, sighing again in contentment. 

Abruptly, you’re forced to flex the hand resting on Akaashi’s cheek to push him off your lips and past your shoulder as an involuntary cough escapes your throat. You barely heard his exhale of surprise at parting with you but he hovers and waits carefully as you cough once, twice, wait a moment, then cough again. You clear you throat and shake your head a little, blinking. “Sorry,” you whisper, the sound getting caught in your chest. It’s okay he assures you with the way his lips find yours. 

He is gentle again, and you wrap your other hand around the back of his neck, encouraging him to keep touching you. Answering your unspoken desires, you find his careful tongue caressing the insides of your mouth. You tilt your head, needing more, more of him. The hand on his cheek makes its way slowly down his toned chest, finding the hem of his pajama shirt and landing on his hip, just beneath the shirt. You are grateful for every brush of skin you share with him, relishing the beautiful, smooth skin of the muscles taut at his waist where he presses against your pelvis. He pulls an inch away from you, looking down into your eyes, his dark teal orbs your entire world.

“Akaashi...” you whisper, and in a fluid motion he pulls his shirt over his head, kissing with more fervor - your lips, under your chin, at your collarbone, then taking his time to plant a loving kiss at the center of your clothed chest. He crawls back, his lips tracing lower down your torso. Your diaphragm contracts as he does so and you successfully stifle another cough. He pushes your shirt up ever so slowly, eyes not leaving your face. The care in his eyes - the way he wants to watch you as he cherishes you - is enough to leave you breathless, and it nearly does as you tangle your fingers in his gorgeous locks. You lick your lips as he uses his nose to trace sweet swirls up your exposed stomach until his tongue grazes past your bare nipple, almost light enough to seem accidental - though you knew better than that. Your head falls to the side and you allow yourself an audible sigh of pleasure as his soft lips close around one of the buds. Your chest rises and falls a little faster at his attentions, feeling your sensitive peak growing wetter at a swipe of his tongue. You know it’s coming and yet a sudden flash of his teeth across the tender flesh elicits a sharp inhale of pleasure from you. 

The quick work of your diaphragm from your gasp sends your esophagus spluttering and seizing and you hack out a few chesty coughs. Akaashi swiftly shifts away from your chest, giving you room to breathe and stroking your hand to let you know he was still there - as if you’d ever forget.

You smile weakly at him and apologize. You find comfort in his lips again, but this time only from their half-smile as he lovingly looks down at you. He pushes forward and pulls your shirt back down over your chest.

“Ah, babe - ” you begin to protest, down but not out for this round. He’s moving in to plant a kiss to your forehead. “It’s okay, love,” he breathes, a whisper above your skin, your pulse still racing. His lips are so gentle against your forehead and you close your eyes at the feeling in spite of yourself. You hear him inhale and feel him pull back. When you open your eyes, he’s sitting back on his heels, looking at you.

“You’re burning up,” he states simply. You half-laugh and begin sitting up, handing his shirt back to him.

“Well I’m sure I have you to thank for that,” you say with a wink.

“No, sweetheart, I mean I think you’re running a fever. I’ll be back,” and before you can even say anything, he’s off the bed and rummaging through a drawer in the bathroom. You exhale dramatically and pull yourself up to rest against the headboard before he comes back. You pout a little like a sick kid when his featherlight fingertips hold your chin to press a thermometer under your tongue.

“No talking for a minute,” he orders, a playful smirk playing at his features. You miss his touch as he throws his shirt back on and reaches across you to grab your water bottle.

“Km-mhi!” you protest, keeping your mouth clamped around the thermometer, but he’s already gone and filling the bottle with fresh water from the kitchen. When he comes back, he takes the thermometer from your mouth and checks the gauge. You realize begrudgingly that you are in fact a bit cold and pull the covers closer around you. You rest your head on his shoulder, peering over at the thermometer. He instinctually rubs your back. 100.4, the thermometer reads. Akaashi sweeps a hand through your hair and down the side of your face. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay?” Pulling away from him, you smile lightly, knowing there’s no arguing with Nurse Keiji. You love him so damn much but you do feel a little puny. 

“You need to eat,” is all he says. He looks a little reluctant to leave you, but squeezes your hand and presses a kiss to your hairline before pushing off the bed and walking back to the kitchen. 

Sighing, you sink back down into the pillows and hit play on the TV again. Your head doesn’t hurt so much anymore but you can feel your pulse in your skull. You gratefully drink some of the water Akaashi brought you and let your eyes rest a bit. The noise of the TV and the distant sound of chopping begins to get far-away, as though you’re sinking beneath water. At some point, without opening your eyes, you feel a warm cloth pressed to your forehead and behind your ears a few times. You smile lightly, still letting your body rest. Akaashi is being overly helpful but you have to admit it’s nice to know someone’s taking care of you.

Eventually, the smell of your favorite soup wafts into the room. You take a deep inhale, which results in a small cough leaving your chest. Clearing your throat, you groggily gather the covers around you and pull them off the bed as you wander into the kitchen.

“Hey,” you say with a smile, feeling like a walking burrito. Akaashi’s eyes are on your face, and you can practically see him fighting the urge to hold you.

“Go back to bed,” he says softly. “Drink some water and lie down.” You pout a little. “Do you need more water?” he asks. You reach out from the draped covers and squeeze his hand. “No, baby. Thank you for doing this for me.” You’re not sure whether it’s the pressure in your head or how your body just seems to stay tired today, but you suddenly feel a wave of strong emotion wash over you as you think about how grateful you are for this man in your life. You blink at wetness in your eyes and, Akaashi, always keyed in to your heart, has his arms around you in an instant, gently rocking you. 

“You’re okay, I love you,” he whispers. A few moments in his arms and you’re slightly surprised as you feel one of his hands lower and grab you behind the knees, sweeping you off your feet and pulling you into his chest. You always forget how well his strength is hidden in his lithe figure, but you give in and let yourself be completely supported by him as he carries you back to your bedroom where he carefully re-settles you onto the bed, kissing your forehead before he stands back up.

“Drink some water, okay? Soup’s almost ready,” his voice is firm, but you know he’s only worried about you. He returns to the kitchen. Your breath catches in your chest a bit and you cough it out for a minute, reaching for your water bottle again.

Soon enough, Akaashi’s standing in the doorway and your heart nearly melts all over again. He’s holding a tray which he brings to your lap, holding your favorite soup, napkins, and a spoon. You sigh with gratitude and you share a look with him, no words necessary. You can still feel your pulse thrumming through your body, but with the first few sips of the soup, the warm liquid settles your chest a bit. Akaashi has crawled into bed beside you and turned the tv back on. 

“Should I sleep on the couch or something tonight?” you ask weakly, looking at him and playing up the pathetic-ness a bit. His eyebrows draw together in confusion.

“What? Of course not, why?”

“I’ll get you sick if-” He shushes you almost immediately.

“No, no, no, don’t worry about that. Besides if you were going to, you probably did already,” he teased with one of his signature small smiles. When the soup was finished and the tray taken from you, he pulled you in close to him and spent the rest of the day by your side, hands running through your hair, or grabbing you anything you needed.

He did, in fact, come down with the exact same cold days later as you were getting over your own. While you hated seeing him all groggy and miserable, you did enjoy the tables flipping and chance to take care of him for once.

[trashogram]

Smut I’ll probably never finish; we’ll call it practice: Killer Croc/Reader

Edit: Warnings for painful sex, slight gore/blood, and violence 

I didn’t expect people outside of those who humor me on this blog to actually read this, but I appreciate everyone who did! I’m putting up a few warnings by request if anyone else is interested.  

“You really meant it, huh?” He asked.

The guttural voice gave you shivers, up and down your spine. Your legs tightened around his waist, bare skin rubbing over the scaly texture assuredly.

“Yes.” You confirmed, knowing that you had to choose your words carefully, otherwise you’d offend him. At least, that was how you thought you would react if you were a killer crocodile man getting a taste of intimacy after God knows how long.

Your slight movements actually managed to push him forward slightly, more out of surprise than your own strength. Again, you weren’t some super-strong mutant, able to lift cars and topple buildings.

He grunted, leaning down until his upper body was atop yours and his enormous hands were on either of you. He stared down at you with yellow eyes that mezmerised; they were unnatural looking and yet still so human - full of little flickers of emotions. The lust was obvious and it made the heat between your thighs that much more intense, but Croc was also questioning. His hesitance shouldn’t have surprised you, but you found yourself melting just a little at the fact that he was waiting for you to change your mind.  

Your hand rose, reaching out toward his chest and sliding up from his pectorals all the way to his jaw. He was scaly from head to toe, but there were parts of him that were softer than others. His neck was strangely fragile, like the underbelly of a reptile rather than their hide.

“Can I kiss you?” You whispered, swallowing at the way his brow arched.

“Kiss?” He said, tone slightly incredulous. “You wanna… kiss me…?”

“Oh, do you not want… do you not like them?” The statement didn’t take into account that Croc had possibly never been kissed in his entire life, and you’d put it like that on purpose. He didn’t exude any kind of touchy-feely behavior to suggest he’d been given the chance to decide if he liked physical touch like that at all.

His mouth closed, teeth hidden behind a set jaw. “If it’s what you want, lady. Go for it.”

You smiled softly, and raised yourself up just enough to be within kissing distance. Your lips puckered and you pressed them against his straight as a line mouth, noting that this area was hard but not rough. There was give to it, reminding you more of human flesh as his lips parted slightly.

You moaned, accepting the quick draw and release of his breath into you. You could feel his coarse chest against yours, and the heart inside beating quickly as he let himself relax. He groaned into your mouth finally, humming as if he were tasting something particularly delicious while you coaxed his tongue into your mouth.

You pressed your forehead against his before breaking away for air, letting him know without explicitly saying it that you just needed to breathe and weren’t trying to escape. Not that you could from underneath him.

Croc panted with you. “You sure you ain’t never killed a man before? Probably could, if you kissed ‘em like that.”

You closed your eyes and laughed, feeling lightheaded. Your fingers stroked over his cheek and along his jawline as you felt his grip around you tighten up. He squeezed you, carefully but with purpose, holding you firmly.

+++

Leaning down, you kissed the criminal again while balancing yourself with your hands pressed down over his ribcage. Pushing the hair away from your face before rising again, you reached back and easily found his cock and aligned yourself with it.

You inhaled slowly, determination strengthening your resolve as you continued to sink down onto him. The head was fully inside, but you were still far and away from taking all of his length.  

He growled, claws tensed around your waist. It was enough to make you brace yourself with a hand on his forearm.

You grunted. “Tell me how it feels, big guy. Please. I wanna know.”

The sweet request took a while to get through to his brain, but Killer Croc eventually came back to reality. His eyes were glazed over, but you could still see your reflection. You were the only thing in his world.  

“‘S like heaven.” He murmured.

The praise made you blush. Your stomach unclenched as a new sense of confidence flooded your senses, and you went back to working your way down so that he could have more. It was very much work, even as the crocodilian man helped by taking some of your weight. He held you up when you needed to pause, though it became evident that he’d started shaking.

You dragged one hand from his abdomen to your center, circling your clit. It sent a jolt of electricity through your body, reminding you to let yourself feel this experience.

       Your walls clenched around Croc, and you whimpered. It was completely drowned out as the beast under you snarled at the sudden vice. You jerked back as his hips moved upward in a shallow thrust and suddenly you were there. Your ass was seated firmly on his hips.

He was in bliss, head tossed back against the cell floor. “Ahh, that’s … uuugh, real good.”

You giggled affirmatively, allowing yourself a moment to bask in the triumph of taking all of him. You felt beyond full, stretched to a limit many women couldn’t likely accommodate lest they risk injuring themselves.

You were nice and durable, though. Even as you pressed back down on his chest for leverage and began to lift yourself halfway up again. You looked down between your legs and saw how shiny the base of his cock was already, then lowered back down. Again, and then again.

The wetness was a blessing. You were sliding up and down within a minute, unending fullness that kept you walking the line between pleasure and pain.

You cried out as Killer Croc made another attempt at thrusting. It was still slight, but there was no way for it to go unnoticed. He continued to growl, letting one claw grip onto your thigh while the other left you entirely to dig into the floor.

It was so easy to get overwhelmed, and yet the noises you made seemed to egg him on. He got into a disjointed rhythm, really trying to fuck you in earnest.

He was too big. The thrusts felt like being shivved in the pelvis while he hit the farthest he could go inside of you. Yet, you couldn’t do more than squeal and shriek as you bounced violently.

The nails on your thigh dug in and pierced your flesh. You covered your mouth to muffle a scream at the pain, but Croc took advantage. He pulled you forward, squeezing you to him and thrusting faster.

The danger of this getting out of hand had been reached and you felt dizzy and helpless. You couldn’t focus on any one thing whether it be the blood sliding down your leg or the stab of him against your cervix. You sobbed, eternally grateful for your bodily resilience as you were split apart.

This wasn’t going to kill you, even if it felt exactly like that.

“Fuck! I’m, ugh!” His words were punctuated with fast, shallow thrusts. Howling out, he completely immobilized you and buried himself to the hilt before you realized that he’d cum.

Heat filled you, stinging as it joined the static sensation of hurt and tingling inside. You could barely feel the rest of your body, only noting that the base of your spine felt like it was being shocked.

Croc’s relief sounded like a combination of deep growl and a nasal grunting. His hold on you went lax as soon as he had emptied everything inside you.

—-

The sound was distant, faraway thunder that still shook the ground beneath. It was simultaneously comforting and bizarre feeling the earth beneath you giving and taking. Not to mention the strange texture - inconsistently smooth until your arms lowered over its slope and you touched a much harder surface underneath.

Were you lying in some kind of plateau? Or a strange rock that was smooth at its peak and jagged at the base?

Eyelids fluttering, you squinted. There was harsh, ugly light above you, casting a glare against the thick glass before your eyes. It was a wall of glass, thicker than the thickest plaster wall you could find in an apartment in the Narrows.

You connected the dots then, and your head rose with a bit of effort so that you could confirm that you were still laying on Killer Croc.

Yes, he was still there and still breathing. And so were you.

Thank god.

Your lower half felt numb, except for the thick object still lodged inside of you. You grimaced a bit trying to pick yourself up with the added weight of his arms still embracing you, but his softening cock eventually slipped out of you.  

The cum was thick and white, no different from a completely human man’s. The feel of it dripping out of your core was just as satisfying while you struggled to catch your breath.

You were quivering when you felt Croc’s arms drag over your back, pleasantly scraping over your soft skin as he kept your body atop his own securely. He clearly didn’t give a shit about being covered in your combined fluids.