#rose elbow tattoo | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shirefantasies · 3 months ago

Text

The Hobbit Characters Meeting Your First Child Together (Wife!Reader)

Part 2 of this post! Time to find out who has daughters or sons first 😁 also requested by anon, but it was already drafted hehe~

Warnings: Blood mentions, birth complications in some (happy endings for all!)

Balin

Knitting was a bit of a struggle those days, you reflected as your elbows ached from bending to keep your needles above the curve of your belly. Balin sat in the armchair at your side, a hand idly drawing circles upon your thigh. Thus, he felt your sudden jerk, rose with you when you all but threw your needles and their work to the side table. "What is it?" He asked. "The chair," you cried out, "It's ruined!" Moisture seeped into the seat of it, a dark stain upon maroon velvet. "We can most likely get that out," Balin comforted you, a hand on yours, "But what is it?" "My water," you answered lowly, dread of realization creeping in on you. "What water?" "My water," you repeated urgently, dragging your husband by the arm, "I am going into labor!"

The only thing that got you through your labor was chuckling at Balin's attempts to hide his nerves, which somehow seemed greater than yours. Likely due to the way your body went into a near-primal focus, your every thought channeled not even into pushing your child out, but simply keeping them safe. Safe indeed, for soon a very loud cry pierced your ears. "Mahal," Oin remarked, dark eyes widening as he extended your newly-wrapped babe to you, "He's a strong one!" "He?" You asked. "He is strong!" Balin cried out, pulling you into his chest from where he stood, one hand reaching for your son, who immediately gripped his finger tight. "Oh, he is indeed!" "We did it," you sobbed into your husband's chest. "You did," Balin corrected, "I can't imagine how you endured all that." "All for him," you replied, gazing down at your son, whose eyes squinted open and blinked. Brown, just like his father's.

Dwalin

"Get out of the way! My wife is giving birth! Our child's coming!" All but shoving the crowds as he burst through with you in his arms, one hand wrapped less loosely about you so he could fling it out at offending pedestrians, Dwalin carried you down Erebor's halls all the way to Oin's. "It- It takes a long time, you know! The baby isn't coming right now," you stuttered out, jostled by your husband's brisk pace. "I'll not take my chances," Dwalin replied as he disappeared with you into the doorway.

"Stars above, why'd ya wait so long?" "Huh?" Your head snapped up from the bed you'd been draped onto, the world fading sharply back to focus amidst the pain. "You either took yer sweet time or else this is an unusually fast labor." Dwalin grinned down at you. "Now is not the time," you shot back, gritting your teeth. In the end, the agonies of labor were over for you in four hours' time. "Unusual all the way around," Oin remarked, settling the mewling babe in your arms, "You two've got yourselves a little girl." "'N she's going to look just like you, too," Dwalin told you, reaching a tattooed hand out to stroke your daughter's cheek and nuzzling against your head.

Thorin

Thorin knew by the way you gripped his arm, swiveled his head to meet your eyes and see your faint nod. Register the fear in your eyes and cup your cheek gently. He was prepared, bringing you a blanket to hold beneath you when your water began to seep through your skirt. Your husband led you by the hand as you waddled with the blanket between your legs all the way to Thorin’s most trusted healer, his old journey’s companion.

“You can do this. I have seen firsthand how much you can endure. You were made to do this, my love.” “I know,” you whined, unconcerned how pitiful you sounded for despite being a queen, at that moment you were a woman in pain. Pain that had gone on for hours, burning and tearing through your body. “The head is stuck,” Oin told you. “No,” you breathed. “I’m afraid I may have to widen the opening. Looking up to meet Thorin’s eyes, you simply tightened your grip on his hand, squeezing your eyes shut tight when the healer took up a small blade and letting out a cry of agony as he cut. Finally, though, blessedly, a weight lifted as your little one came free with a sound of confusion. Panting, you gave your husband a weak smile, sitting up a bit further and wincing at the pain, enduring to hold your newborn. “My son. Our son. A new prince is born to Erebor,” Thorin whispered, leaning down to connect your foreheads, warmth pooling even amidst the sweat glistening there, “I cannot take away your pain, but I will do anything in my power to be the best king, husband, and father you both could ask.” “You already are,” you told him, laying your hand over his, which was joined with your son’s.

Oin

"It's time, isn't it?" "How did you know what I was about to say?" You asked him, head cocked. "Because I've seen the signs a thousand times," Oin reminds you, "Now come on. Go get yourself comfortable. I've got everything ready." Patting your shoulder and kissing your cheek, he guides you to your bed and leaves the room, only to return with his supplies. "I'll go put the kettles on." "Why two?" "One to keep me clean 'n one for your tea." Oin had, in fact, told you about the tea he made patients to help with their pain. You nodded. "Of course. I trust my healer." The affection in your husband's eyes matched your own gaze as he disappeared through the door one more time.

"Yer doin' great." "I don't feel like I am," you cried. "Shh, I know," Oin soothed, making his way back up to your head to kiss you, "It'll all be over soon, though. Promise. In fact, can you give me one more push?” For all the frustration you may have felt, your husband was both delivering your little one and reassuring you. He was doing amazing for your baby and you could do the same. Whimpering and straining, you pushed until a cry pierced the room. “You did it! A wee thing, too. Oh, oh, love, it’s a girl! We had a girl!” Daughters were all too rare among dwarvenkind. Eyes widening and lips parting, you leaned over to let Oin wipe the sweat from your brow with one newly-cleaned hand after he handed over your daughter. Tears poured from his eyes as he rested his hand over yours that held your daughter’s. “I’ve seen this a thousand times, and yet this is like never before. Thank you for this gift.” Whispering your name, he guided you gently by the chin into a kiss of pure love and gratitude.

Gloin

“Are you alright?” Your husband’s voice was like a buzz beneath the ring of your ears, lightheadedness overtaking you until you felt a hand take yours and heard a louder, firmer call of your name. No anger colored it, just concern that had you finally swinging your head Gloin’s way. Soon as your eyes met his, you nodded faintly and smiled before the spots dancing in your vision won.

When you awoke, your brother-in-law was checking your pulse, nodding as you started. “She’s doin’ better,” Oin told Gloin, “Get back up there, she’s going to start pushing.” Shuffling back up from his brother’s side to yours, your husband took your hand, gently smoothing your hair and dabbing cold sweat off your brow with his sleeve. “I’m ready whenever you are,” he told you, and off you went into another haze of pain and encouragement and anticipation. Oin’s cry of victory actually alerted you both to the birth before the baby made a sound, emerging into the air with a small whine of confusion and near annoyance that had you and Gloin chuckling. The baby started crying as Oin checked him over, fussing in your arms as Gloin leaned down to rest his forehead over his new addition’s. “I’m a da. I’ve finally got a son of my own,” he whispered, tears welling in his eyes.

Bifur

“Bifur!” Plodding footsteps filled your vision as your husband tore into the room, almost careening into your dresser. Entering the room, his dark eyes widened as he caught side of you folded over, your water leaking onto your shared bed. “The blankets,” you panted, “I’m sorry…” Waving a hand and shaking his head, Bifur dismissed you, removing his gloves to caress your cheek and feel your forehead before he lowered you down and gestured for you to wait. Squeezing your hand when you nodded in agreement, he disappeared out the door in search of Oin.

Gasps sounded at your feet as Oin motioned for Bifur to join him and rake up a tool. Muscle memory kept the feeling and warmth of your husband’s hand in yours alive for another moment, but you all but forgot it in the panic of Oin tracing a circle around his neck. The cord was wrapped. Spears of ice pierced your heart as you watched your husband frantically aid the healer, eyes stone in focus and motions deliberate. After what felt like hours, you saw both their chests rest in exhales. “He’s alright,” Oin told you, “Your son will be just fine.” Crying out, you reached out your arms, embracing your husband and then sobbing into the blanket that held your new addition. You could tell by his wisps of black hair, the shape of his nose, that he was going to look just like his father. “Our miracle,” you sobbed to Bifur and Oin, “You are true heroes. Thank you. Our son will have no shortage of great dwarves to look up to.”

Bofur

“Bofur, my labor is beginning.” “Your what?” Wincing, you shuffled forward to clutch your husband by the collar. “Your child is coming, so I suggest you get some help unless you’d like to have a fun adventure with our rug later.” Swallowing, Bofur nodded. “Right. On my way.”

“And I’ll never forget the day I met you. When I saw you I thought ‘There’s simply no way she could be real’. Goodness me, if I’m not thinking the very same right now.” Bofur’s hand never left yours and his mouth never stopped moving, even if you were in no state to respond. Contorting with the pain, you cried out as your body gave its all, spending yourself for one last push. “See what I mean? Oin just caught the wee bairn. You’re all done! Just pushed a whole baby out all by yourself. Plain amazing’s what it is.” “And a girl no less!” Oin chimed in, slashing the cord as your daughter began to cry. “Hear that, love? A little dwarrowdam!” Smiling at your husband, you felt a tear slide down and mingle with the sweat glistening upon your cheek. Oin placed her in your arms and Bofur bent over to meet her blinking eyes. “Hello there! It’s me, yer da! I’m the one who’s going to buy you everything you want, alright?” “Not even five minutes old and she already has you wrapped around her finger,” you teased. “Damn right.” Bofur kissed her head, then yours.

Bombur

“Bombur.” “I’m on it.” Your sweet husband needed only a word to rush off across your home, fetching you a pot and holding it beneath you. “What’s this for?” “The water,” he answered, nodding down to where your skirt soaked through. “Oh,” you accepted one of the cold steel handles, “right. That works.” “You ready? I’ll get yer bag too.” “Ready as I’ll ever be,” you answer with a smile.

Taking a cloth, your husband wiped the sweat off your forehead gently, patting your cheek affectionately. “Still doing alright?” “Best I can,” you grunted. “Everything look good down there? Well, good as it can,” Bombur amended with a glance down to his old companion, who nodded. Bombur had been asking questions and checking in the whole times, not to mention keeping you as clean and comfortable as could be. Rather that annoy you, it made you smile to see how much he cared. You had a healer, yes, but a nurse also. “Almost here,” he said, “just a few more pushes, eh?” Exhaling sharply, you focused all your might, forcing your muscles harder than you thought possible until a wail pierced the room. “You’ve done it,” Oin congratulated you, crossing the room with a little bundle in hand. Reaching out, Bombur wrapped his hands gently around the little one, lowering your baby down to let you uncover her head, which already had whisps of red hair. "She's beautiful." "'Course she is," Bombur replied, nuzzling into your cheek, "Came out o' you, didn't she?"

Dori

"Love, are you alright?" "Yes." You paused, crumpling and wincing beneath the crash of more pain. "Wait, no. That is to say I've never felt this before. I think my labor has started." No more words were necessary; flitting about your home, Dori fetched blankets and a skin of water and all manner of other supplies. "Will Oin not have all we need?" "Can't be too sure," your husband replied, striding to your side and smoothing your hair before he caressed your face, blue eyes staring into yours, "I want you to be safe, you know. I love you." And what could you say? You loved him, too, for all his quirks and for that big beautiful heart.

"Is that normal? That's not normal, is it?" Oin had drawn you a warm bath, lowering you into the water and checking your progress. "What's he doing all this for?" "To relax her," the healer replied to your nervous husband with a shake of his head, "And yes, this happens. 's just a slow labor is all. Some of 'em rush on out and others take their time. I suspect your wee bairn is just in no hurry." No hurry indeed. For all your pains of labor, it was almost 20 hours to the minute before your bath ran red and plaintive cries of confusion drifted into the air, Dori's fretting and even apologizing to you for putting you in this position turning to gripping your hand and all but leaping in anticipation. "You did it," he congratulated you quietly, embracing you without care of the water, sweat, and Mahal knew what else soaked you. "You sure did," Oin agreed, smiling as you accepted your little one, whose face was still red from crying, "She's here." "A daughter," Dori whispered, "A little girl! All my dreams are coming true and it's all thanks to you. How could I ever thank you? You'll never want for anything, neither of you, not love or warmth or all the pretty things you'd ever want."

Nori

Nori’s arms were snaked around your middle when you jerked forward, pushing his hands away. “For goodness sakes, you could’ve just said you didn’t want to-” “No,” you waved a hand frantically, feeling the gush of liquid trickling out, “My water just broke, Nori. It is time.” “Right now?” “Sorry if it’s inconvenient for you,” you sassed. At that, your husband smiled faintly and shook his head. “Not at all. In fact," he quipped, "I was a bit bored.”

“Push!” “What does it look like I’m doing?” Now your ire is focused on Oin, bringing many a snicker forth from Nori. At least until you crush his hand with a steel grip, crying out and falling limply against the sheets on which you lie. “That felt like something. Am I done?” “Almost,” the healer replied, his head popping over the curve of your heaving body, “The other head’s coming out now.” Double-taking between Oin and you, Nori bursts out, “The other head?” “Congratulations,” Oin agrees roughly, hands glistening with blood as he cuts a cord, “You’re a strong one, my friend- you made two at once!” At that, he bursts into a raucous laugh, gingerly transferring each of your sons into Nori’s arms. Bringing them closer, your husband grins like a dwarf showing off his most precious gems. “Look at that, love, two for the price o’ one. Our handsome little lads.”

Ori

Ori had been asking you every day at just about any hint of discomfort if the baby was coming, jumping up before you could tell him no, just a hard kick or your back troubling you again. Thus, the same he had done that day, so caught in the fray of his actions that he failed to think about why you weren't stopping him. At least, that was, until you finally met his eyes with a nod and a nervous smile that sent him pitching sideways. Only, of course, to promptly catch himself and, wide-eyed, take your hand and lead the way.

"You sure you want 'im in here?" Oin asked you, peering up with a teasing glint in his eye. "He looks more afraid than you do!" "He is my husband," you replied indignantly, tightening your grip on Ori's hand, "And I am quite certain I would faint too if I saw the head half-stuck right now." "Oh, beyond half," the healer told you, "Couple good pushes and I daresay you'll be done." Hearing Ori's gasp of excitement had your eyes shining with even more determination than the older dwarf's words, and focusing all your might you pushed and pushed until you felt a weight lifted, your body relaxing. "He's out! A little lad, too!" "Hear that?" Ori turned to you, gathering you up into his arms. "We've got a son! Our son is here!" "'N he's a gentle thing," Oin told you, laying him in your arms, "Didn't even fight me." "He's sweet," you gushed at the sight of your son nuzzling into your bare skin and leaning up to kiss your husband's cheek, "Just like his da."

Fili

“I think I’m in labor.” “You think?” Blue eyes wide and golden brows raised, Fili stares incredulously at you. “I feel it. I feel the pain. But where is my water?” Glancing back up, you see your husband inhale sharply, exhale and steady his expression. Truly a king in the making. “Oin will know,” he tells you, urgently but calmly, “Let us go.” Nodding and taking a deep breath of your own, you take his hand and make your way.

Labor indeed. All the other signs matched and soon- or far sooner than you had hoped- you are pushing, Fili’s hand firmly clasping yours and his head resting atop your own, braids dangling over you as you pant and work. From your feet, you see the healer’s eyes widen and lips part, rounding in surprise. “Is something wrong?” “No, no,” Oin shakes his head, “This is simply a marvel. Your heir coming in a veiled birth.” Frowning, you immediately ask him what he means. “See for yourself,” he replies, showing you the reason your water had not broken. The baby had emerged still inside the birth sac. “Does that harm them?” Fili asked. “Not at all. This is just a very rare sight. You may not want to watch this part.” Fili took both of your hands in his, leaning his forehead against yours as Oin extricated and cleaned the little one. “A veiled babe and a girl. What are the odds?” Accepting your daughter, you grinned up at Fili. “We have a princess!” “Our little queen in the making,” your husband agreed, caressing your daughter’s cheek as a rear rolled down his, “A true miracle.”

Kili

Poor Kili- you had been sitting on his lap when the break happened. Venturing your name with the utmost caution-and fear of your hormones- your husband asked, “Do you, by chance, need help getting to the lavatory?” Shaking your head even as it was hidden in your hands, you told him, “No. Kili, that was my water. The babies.” “Now?” “Now,” you agreed with a nod. Shooting up from his seat and all but yanking you into his arms, he lifted you bridal-style. “Kili, you’ll get wet!” “Already am. May as well give the babies as much time with Oin as possible.”

As much time ad possible being a near-record-speed delivery of three and a half hours. “Impatient little buggers,”Oin teased, tossing aside a red-stained cloth, “But strong little fighters. The sister kicked especially hard!” Chuckling, he lowered the aforementioned girl twin into your husband’s arms, handing you your son. They squirmed considerably less when you held them, both of you loosening your upper garments to hold them against skin. “She gets it from her mother, no doubt,” Kili teased with a wink as if he wasn’t crying, “But the good looks? That’ll be us both. This is all so beautiful. This is the most beautiful thing beyond anyone's imagining. Thank you for being the one to share this with me.”

Bilbo

"Are you sure I can't get you anything?" "Yes, Bilbo," you chuckled despite the pain coursing through your body, "All I need right now is to have you with me." "And Matilda," your husband named your neighbor and midwife who was on her way. "And Matilda," you agreed with a faint nod, "Now come here. Please." "Of course, dear," Bilbo agreed, shuffling across the room so quickly you could hear every hard step clattering off the boards.

"Is she going to be alright?" "Yes, she's still doing great," Matilda replied with an equal mix of amusement and exasperation at your husband, who leaned over to speak to her and immediately balked at the sight of your body dilated, a head beginning to emerge. "I- I feel a bit faint." "Try being me," you shot back as he returned to your side fully. "You're right," he nodded, fingers curling even tighter around yours for the last pushes. After what felt like ages, Matilda finally called up "Cutting the cord!" Her voice barely rose above the cries. "Hear that?" "I do," you answered Bilbo with a nod, tears welling up in your eyes. "You should be proud," Matilda told you, cleaning up your babe and handing her off to the pair of you, as both of you extended hands simultaneously, "She's beautiful." Bilbo lowered her to where you lie, pushing back the folds of her blanket so her skin could touch yours. Wispy hair curled atop your newborn daughter's head. "I never thought anything could be so beautiful, but here we are," your husband told you, voice barely above an awed whisper, "My girls."

Thranduil

"Thranduil." Your husband smirked at the way you panted his name, glancing upward only for that very expression to melt into horror at your buckling knees. Rushing to grasp your hand, he simply says, "It is time, is it not?" Nodding, you allow him to lead you all the way to the healing chambers, breathing heavily and wincing with each crashing wave of pain.

Despite his wide eyes, your husband keeps calm and speaks well the entire birth. "Focus on what is above you," he distracts, golden voice soothing as ever, "What do you see?" "Branches," you breathe, huffing with the force of your latest push, "Lights." "Remember the festival of starlight?" "I daresay that was when we conceived," you grunt, "Remind me to write an edict discontinuing it." At that, Thranduil simply chuckles deeply and winces at the way your voice breaks into tears. "Good," your midwife encourages you, "One more push, My Queen. One more. That is it. Find your strength." Your face contorts in frustration, but you comply, body wracked with one final stab before lying still. "Well?" Thranduil immediately asks. "Is the child healthy?" "Small, but breathing very well. A lovely little princess, My Lord." "My little princess," he all but gasps, head swiveling back your way, "Our daughter is here." A weight falls into his arms, and leaning down Thranduil reveals your little gift to you. Eyes still closed, your daughter wails and reaches for the air with delicate little hands. "Our beautiful woodland princess."

Feren

"Feren." "Yes, my love?" "Feren," you breathe with greater insistence in your loss for words, "I think it is happening." "Right now?" "Yes," you sit up in bed, throwing the blankets off your lap and inhaling sharply. Luckily, you have no need to tell your husband twice; he all but bounds across the bedroom to retrieve your things and find a robe to wrap you in, one hand guiding you up and to the side of the bed. "Breathe, breathe. One moment; I will fetch help." At first, you were reluctant to release his hand, but finally you nodded and let him go. When he returned, a midwife rushed to your side where you squatted and your husband to the other, where he took your hand and immediately winced at your vicelike grip.

Both you and Feren were red in the face and streaked with tears before you heard the wail; your husband from the pain of his hand and of hearing and seeing your body, voice, and expression all rent in agony. Every head in the room turned to face the sound, though, pain almost forgotten. With a soft white cloth that quickly reddened, your midwife cleaned the skin of your newborn. Who was, by the looks of it... "A son! My darling, a son is born to us! Our little boy is here." "Let me see," you cried out, reaching your hands for the elfling extended to you and lowering him to the bared skin of your chest. He was beautiful. "Perfect," you sobbed, "He is perfect." "Just like you," Feren adds with a kiss to your forehead.

Bard

The moment you crumpled, Bard took one look at you and nodded solemnly. “One moment,” he told you, rushing back into the house and calling requests to the girls. Through a wave of pain you saw Tilda hand her father the bag you’d packed as he made his way back to your side. You felt your hand clutched tightly again. “We make for the midwife’s.” At that, all you could do was nod. Luckily for you, she lived close enough that you needn’t take a barge, though the increasing difficulty of hurried walking and weaving through crowds of fisherman and sellers almost had you wishing you did. Your husband called to them to move, his wife was in labor, and luckily many of them began to part at that. All too soon another wave of pain came and Bard hoisted you into his arms, carrying you over the raised threshold of the wooden house that was your midwife’s home.

Hours. Hours it took, hours that wracked your body and soul as your mind was kept knit only by the grace and care of your husband. The midwife's care as well, of course, but all memory beyond the veil of pain went to the feeling of his hand around yours. Bard's grip, warm and solid right up until the moment cries filled the room. "It's a girl," the older woman breathed from at your feet, "A healthy little girl." "A daughter! Oh," Bard told you, bringing your baby closer, "The girls will be thrilled. And look, see how she looks just like you." Looking down, you pushed aside the blanket from your newborn daughter's head, seeing soft strands of hair the same color as yours. "As I had hoped," your husband added.

Beorn

“Three babies. Remind me again why it had to be three babies.” “My people commonly-” “I know, I know!” One arm slung over your shoulders and one tightly gripping your waist, Beorn led you from the garden back into the house. “Do you care to lay or to squat?” “Squat,” you panted. Acquiescing your request, your husband releases you at the bedpost once your hands leave his to grip the wood. “Let me boil some water. I will be right back.” Sometimes you wished he would be less serious. This was not one of those times. Calm washed over you at the sheer capability Beorn displayed, the confidence so present or so well affected. Taking a deep breath as a contraction hit, you attempted to mirror his manner.

“There was one. How do you feel?” “Lighter,” you groaned in between pushes. “Glad to see you have yet to lose your sense of humor. That one was a boy, my heart. Our firstborn son has arrived.” “A son,” you breathed, wincing as another massive contraction came. “Yes, yes, that is it.” A second cry filled the room, this one a bit quieter than your son’s. “And a daughter. Only one more. Whether you know it, you have the strength.” Finally a third set of cries filled the room, these the loudest by far. “Another son. Two boys and a girl.” Smiling, Beorn gently lowered one of your sons into your arms, the other babes swaddled in each of his. “This one looks like you,” you remarked, smiling at your husband though you did not bother peeling your eyes from your new baby yet. His eyes were well occupied with your daughter anyhow. “And I can tell this one will have her mother’s eyes. Much more beyond that, we can hope. …Hope. For my people after so long.” Eyes falling shut, Beorn let tears of joy and relief flow from his eyes before bringing you and his other son into one massive embrace.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @filiswingman @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn @wordbunch @tiny-and-witchy @th3-st4r-gur1 @fleurdemiel-145 @mistresskayla-blog1 @misabelle717 @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @evattude | Reply/Message/Ask to join 🖤

296 notes · View notes

wish-i-knew-what-i-am-doing · 1 month ago

Text

4. Garden

The very first time Lena had mentioned it, it was to tell Kara she couldn’t go with her to the farmer’s market the following Saturday.

"I’m sorry darling, I-I have to tend to my garden". Curiosity picked, Kara ignored the hesitation and the pet name and went directly to the questions burning on her tongue. "You have a garden?", "Since when do you have a garden?", "Why haven’t you mentioned it before?", "I feel like as your best friend, I should have know about that".

Lena chuckled at the now pouting blonde.

"I’ve had it for several years and only a handful of people know about it. And you know the old adage, it’s good to keep some kind of mystery. Secret garden and all that." She winked at the double entendre.

"But don’t worry, maybe I’ll show it to you one day, if you play your cards right", Lena added, eyes sparkling with mirth and cheeks slightly rosier than before.

She then left it at that, not offering any more details.

Over the following days, Kara tried to broach the subject again but Lena didn’t seem too willing to share this part of herself and remained evasive. So Kara decided to drop it for now even if, deep inside, she was dying to know more.

The next time the enigmatic garden was brought up again was entirely by accident. Kara had been thinking about it. A lot. But she was being a good friend to Lena and respected her privacy, so she had buttoned her lips.

Until one morning, a bit distracted, she entered Lena’s office and noticed a simple yet elegant flower arrangement on her desk. "Oh, those are beautiful! Are they from your garden?" She asked before realising she mentioned the forbidden topic.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean -"

Lena chuckled lightly. "It’s okay, Kara", she interrupted the blonde before she could launch herself into a ramble. "And no, those are not from my garden. But I do have roses and daisies in parts of it". She said as she gently touched the petal of one of the flower in question.

Time went by and as busy as they all were, the matter slipped out of Kara’s focus. It was still resurfacing every now and then, in passing, but Kara never got any additional information about it and it didn’t bothered all that much anymore.

More time went by and the pair found themselves growing closer to each other, slowly pushing the boundaries of their friendship.

Until finally, after a lot of flirting (from Lena’s side) and a lot of blushing (from Kara’s side), the blonde finally put her big girl pants on and asked her best friend out on a date.

One date turned into two and soon the two women were exploring the new aspects the romance brought to their relationship.

On the morning after their first night together, Kara woke up fully rested, delightfully sated and entirely happy. A blinding smile spreading across her face.

It must have still been early, as the light was just beginning to shine through her windows. Lena was still asleep beside her, resting on her own belly. Kara raised her head slightly to get a better look at the (very naked) sleeping beauty lying next to her.

She noticed some dark marks on the brunette’s back. Propping herself on her elbow, Kara was then greeted with the view of an almost full back tattoo.

How had she not noticed that the night before? was Kara’s first question. She decided to blame it on eagerness and the sweet taste of Lena’s lips.

She brought up a hand to delicately trace the ink, making Lena stir. Only then did she picked up on the drawings themselves: dozens and dozens of flowers, of various shapes and sizes.

It took her a second, but then it finally clicked.

"The secret garden!", Kara gasped loudly.

That fully roused Lena, who turned around, laughing gleefully.

"I did tell you I would show it to you were you to play your cards right." She said, making Kara blush. "And I guess you have" she continued before raising a hand to bring Kara down in a heated kiss.

#silly #fluff #I may or may not have been inspired by my own tattoos #kara danvers #lena luthor #kara x lena #supercorp #supercorptober #supercorptober2024 #fanfic #supergirl

177 notes · View notes

hanichani · 1 year ago

Text

You look so perfect standing there...

Pairing: chan x gn!reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: a drabble inspired by she looks so perfect by 5sos

Warnings: chan has a tattoo and is very much in love, lmk if i missed aynthing

Word count: 920

a/n: ever since I saw that clip of chan singing that song at one of the maniac tour concerts, i thought it was a very channie coded song. btw i know getting someone's name tattooed is very... but imagine someone being so obsessed with you that they do that hjkdjkh

when you walk out of the bathroom chan is already in bed, wearing his pyjamas (a pair of boxers), facing the ceiling. you lean on the door frame and cross your arms over your chest, looking at the man with only love and admiration in your eyes (maybe a bit of lust as well and no one can blame you for that). his sight moves from the ceiling to his wrist as he raises his arm up. he starts playing with the chain bracelet he’s worn forever now and when he does so, you can see the little tattoo that is hidden on the inside of his bicep. it’s a small black arrowed heart that has your name in it and you vividly remember the night he got it.

it was two years into your relationship when chan was in his yolo era and so so in love with you. so, one night, he picked you up at your house and told you he had a surprise. you did not expect him to take you to a tattoo salon and you expected what followed even less.

“you’re crazy.” you told him while shaking your head at him. but he only fired back with a very predictable “yea, for you.” and a loud laugh.

and even though chan is still equally as in love with you, he is also more responsible now and thinking about things that actually matter. so, when your body movement interrupts him from his thoughts, he looks over to you with a questioning expression. when he sees your form leaning on the doorframe, he smiles. you look so perfect standing there and he feels the need to tell you. he always does.

“you look beautiful.” he says, rolling over to his stomach and propping himself up on his elbows, one of his hands supporting his chin.

you snort in response and move closer to the bed, staring down at him. his hair is fluffy since he washed it tonight, the curls coming back to life. you reach down and ruffle it which he takes as an invitation to pull you down to the bed with him.

you’re wrapped up in his arms. one of his hands resting on your waist and the other sneaking down to your ass. the movement pauses when he reaches the hem of your underwear. or more specifically, his underwear. when he feels the thick band of fabric sitting on your skin, he pulls your shirt up and looks down.

“you’re wearing my underwear.” he states the obvious while his hand finally moves over the fabric that belongs to him (and also the skin that belongs to him). “yea, it’s more comfy to sleep in.” you respond, looking down as well. you’re not going to lie, the sight is nice. the black calvin klein boxers sitting on your hips nicely and chan’s pretty hand resting on your butt is something you’d want to take polaroids of and keep them hidden away in your room forever.

he groans and tugs your body closer to his, hiding his face in your neck and squeezing the soft flesh covered in his clothing. “you look so good in it.” he mumbles, and you can’t help but laugh at his frustration caused by a simple action.

it was quite a frequent occurrence, really. him getting so loved up and frustrated over stuff you do or over you as a person in general.

you remember the first time it happened. it was towards the very beginning of your relationship. he bought you a lot of new makeup products for no particular reason other than just to make you happy (and maybe he thought it was a very boyfriend thing to do). but there was one specific product that caught your attention. so, when chan came over to your house the day after giving you the products, you were wearing it. a dark red lipstick that smelled like roses. he noticed immediately.

“is that the lipstick i gave you?” he smiled, his hands going to rest on your hips, pulling you to him. “yea, it’s really pretty, right?” you smiled back, arms wrapping around his neck. but to your surprise, he shook his head no.

“it’s really hot.” he corrected with a smirk, leaning down to kiss you.

when he pulled back, his lips were a few shades darker and you swear you could’ve died right then and there. without thinking about it too much, you leaned close to him again and started kissing all over his face. you could hear his boyish giggles reverbating around the room. his hands squeezed your hips in an attempt to get you to stop.

when you led him to a mirror after that, he turned into a mush. you draped yourself over his shoulders and started peppering kisses down his neck now and the man just stood there not knowing where to look first.

should he admire how well the lipstick stains, the shape of your lips, really, looked on his face. or should he be staring at your face that was moving in the crook of his neck, marking him up some more. he couldn't handle it and his lipstick covered and frustration filled body turned around in your hold, going down to your neck (a very characteristic action for his love frustration surges).

and just like you did every time after that and like you’re doing right now, all you could do was laugh, hold him close and think about how incredibly lucky you were to have him as your person.

#stray kids x reader #chan fluff #chan x reader #bang chan x reader #chan drabbles #bangchan x reader #skz drabbles #chan x y/n #skz x y/n #bang chan fluff

816 notes · View notes

steddieas-shegoes · 1 year ago

Text

7:28

this post by @footburn inspired me in that 'you must type this out before you can do anything else' way so here. this was literally from brain to computer in about 20 minutes.

rated m this is literally just the softest and sweetest fluff, with some implied sexual content discussed

------------------

"Eds."

"Hm?"

Eddie's sleepy voice whispered against Steve's ear, his breath sending a shiver down his spine.

Steve turned his head as his hand reached over to cup the back of Eddie's head, his fingers gently gripping the frizzy strands of hair sticking out.

"Gotta get up," Steve mumbled.

The alarm clock would be going off in two minutes, a stark reminder that the real world was just outside of their bedroom and unfortunately required putting on clothes and going to work.

If he could, he'd stay like this all day, every day, for the rest of their lives.

Next to Eddie, on top of Eddie, under Eddie, any way he could possibly have him. As long as the sunlight kept streaming through the window and the warmth of Eddie's soft, sleepy smile was in view, Steve would be happy.

"Mm-mm," Eddie shook his head once, nuzzling closer so his next exhale made Steve's eyes flutter closed.

"I have to open today."

Eddie's hand settled on his shoulder, squeezing once before falling away again.

"Stupid."

"What is, baby?" Steve smirked as he watched Eddie's brows furrow as he finally started to wake up.

"Work."

Eddie's eyes fluttered open.

The alarm clock switched to 7:29.

"Call out," Eddie's eyes blinked slowly.

"I can't. It's just me today. Robs would kill me."

"But it'll kill me to watch you get out of bed," Eddie pouted.

Steve sat up, leaning on his elbow, and looked down at Eddie.

Eddie looked back up at him with those wide eyes, bottom lip out like it would actually convince Steve to stay.

The alarm clock showed 7:30.

Steve reached over to shut off the alarm as soon as it started beeping.

He leaned down to kiss his head, then his heart tattoo, then the scar on his side.

"Pleeeease?" Eddie whined. "I have today off. We could sleep and not sleep."

Steve rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but want to give in.

They had so few days like this: where one of them didn't wake up screaming or crying from a nightmare, where they weren't in pain the moment their eyes opened, where someone wasn't needing them the moment the sun rose.

It was tempting to take advantage of this moment, of this day, see where it would lead if Steve just settled back down in bed, see if they were able to sleep for another couple of hours.

Maybe wake up with lips against skin, or hands against chests or thighs.

Maybe eat breakfast in bed and make more than one type of mess.

Maybe only get up to take a shower together, scrub off the stickiness of syrup and body fluids.

Or maybe they'd get a call in 15 minutes from Dustin, who should know better than to call before ten in the morning on weekends, but does anyway because he won't admit that he misses them.

Maybe Robin would show up to shove Steve out the door for the shift he's supposed to work, pissed that he'd even try to get out of it.

Maybe Wayne would finally remember to bring that cake recipe he found in an old family cookbook and insist on helping him make it since he knows the secret.

Or maybe Steve would kiss Eddie's lips once before getting up and doing the thing he doesn't want to do today so they can enjoy their peace tomorrow.

Maybe Steve can look at the alarm clock that now reads 7:31 and think about how sometimes love is getting out of a cozy bed and going to work so you have money to pay for those concert tickets that are gonna be the best birthday present he's ever gotten.

"Love you so much, Eds," Steve whispers as he pulls away from Eddie's mouth, already longing for another kiss.

"Love you too, sweetheart. Bring ya lunch?" Eddie's eyes were getting heavy again as he turned his head into the sheets, breathing in the scent of Steve, of them.

"See you then."

At 7:32, Steve managed to go into the bathroom to shower and get ready for his day.

At 7:56, Steve kissed Eddie's forehead as he slept, careful not to wake him.

At 8:02, Steve left a note for Eddie on his way out the door, the same note he wrote for him every morning, left on his favorite mug so he wouldn't miss it when he made his coffee.

Love you, miss you, want you - your Stevie

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #this art has me feral #clearly #i stopped mid assignment to do this

800 notes · View notes

coeurify · 2 years ago

Note

i think i already requested this but i’m not 100% sure so i’m doing it again 🫶😭 ellie getting hired as a farm hand and sneaking around with the farmers daughter

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+. rushed writing, smut, oral!e recieving, dirty talk

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: I JUST CAME EVERYWHERE!!! sorry this req took so long. i went a bit overboard. plz tell me if u want more of this trope, 3.2k words.

The farm was never quiet. Not the always loud stables and garden, not the chicken coop that always raised choruses of sounds. Never was the creaking door of your front porch door silent, nor was the gravel road that led across the expansive farm. Your father waking early in the morning, before the sun had even risen, boots stomping down old stairs— that was never quiet either. So often, you found your arms pressed to the ledge of your window, peeking through the white curtains to watch as the sun rose and your father trudged around to tend to everything by himself.

One day, when your cheek was pressed against your arm, knees tucked under you as your bed acted as a cushion to watch out the window with sleepy eyes, someone else showed up. Their hair was short and messily cut, shining a deep sort of auburn in the early flashes of the sun. They wore flannel and jeans that you had to squint your eyes to see were definitely too big for whoever wore them. Your father had mentioned hiring a farm hand for some help, but you assumed to be met with an older man like himself. Not whoever this was. They tilted their head up, meeting your searching eyes through the window above the farmhouse. It was a girl, definitely one your age, early twenties or so. Before she could look too long as you continued being nosy, you ducked down under the window and let out a breath of embarrassment.

A few days later, you learned her name. Carrying metal buckets full of feed for the chicken coop, you were met with this new face again, holding the same bucket. “Oh,” she had said, “are you going to feed the chickens? I'm sorry, don’t mean to get in the way..” she had rocked on her heels nervously, but you just smiled. “Oh! my daddy always has me feed the chickens; he must’ve just forgotten to tell ya’.. you’re the new farm hand, right?” The girl had nodded, very obviously following the braids in your hair as you tilted your head a bit. “Yea— uh, I’m Ellie..” she eventually introduced, holding out a hand for you. It gave a clear visual of the flannel pushed to her elbows, revealing a beautiful tattoo on her lower arm. You shook her hand, grinning as bright as the damn sky as you introduced yourself. “We could just go feed them together? Then I’ll get outta your hair,” you offered. That was the first day you and Ellie spoke, over the loud clucks of the chickens, introducing them each by names you had given them, asking simple questions about herself. That was when you decided you had to have her.

Your father didn’t love how the next few weeks were spent with you stealing glances at Ellie as she carried hay barrels or led horses to a different side of the farm. He mumbled for you to ‘let the girl do her job’ whenever you brought the two of them lemonades or snacks as an excuse to spark up a conversation under the summer heat. You liked to watch the way Ellie always focused on you, sweat building on her forehead that she always wiped away to speak with you. You enjoyed how she stumbled over her words whenever you complimented her work or mentioned how your father didn’t like how interested you were in distracting her.

“My daddy says I'm a bad influence on you, Ellie; you think that's true?” You had asked one day while leaning against the barn door, watching as she shuffled animals back into their pens. “He thinks I distract you too much,” you add, fingers digging into the pockets of your overalls. Ellie swallowed harshly, searching for her words carefully, “I think I’d be lying if I said you didn’t distract me just a bit,” the girl admitted, pushing a grin to your face. “Only a bit?” You pouted, nearly giggling out loud at how Ellie had blinked so hard and so many times, unable to conjure up words for your pointed comment. That was the first time you had dipped your toes into the pool of flirting with Ellie, and you never went back.

After a few awkward breakfasts of your father digging into you for your infatuation with his new farm hand, begging you just to let the girl work, you got more careful about your trips to Ellie. You would wait until your father was off in one of the stables before you would sneak to the garden Ellie was kneeling in, hands covered in dirt as she tended to the plants. “You look good like that,” you would mumble. Ellie always fumbled with her tools, looking up at you with eyes that always begged you not to keep pushing this. You always did. Your feet always found a place in the area of the farm she was in, digging into the dirt as you asked about her day and slid in compliments.

Ellie tried her best to be a good worker; she really did. She did her best to ignore those pretty eyes of yours, did her damnedest to look away when you bit your lip and watched her work. But she was only human. Every human had a breaking point, a trip-wire that only took one wrong step to set off and blow everything up. That breaking point had been your pretty sundress on a Wednesday afternoon as you lounged on your front porch, a book tucked in front of your face. Ellie had been standing there, waiting for your father to return from his quick ride to get more supplies for a broken fence. It was too hot that day to even debate standing out in the blistering sun, though the shade of the porch gave little comfort when you raised one of your legs and exposed some of your thighs.

“I love that flannel El,” you said as your nose poked above the paper pages, fingers dipping in between the chapters as you paid little mind to the words. “Come sit with me,” you patted the small sun chair next to you, and Ellie couldn’t help but follow your motion. A few strands of her hair were sticking up as she took a seat next to you, and you didn’t fight the urge to reach forward and press them down. “You gotta stop doing this,” Ellie said suddenly, turning your hand back to your lap. You knew exactly what she meant, but you still blinked as if you were confused. “Doin’ what?” You let your ponytail rest against the back of your chair as you leaned back, heart jumping to your throat as Ellie leaned over from her own space. Those green eyes you had wanted to see up close finally focused on your lips. “Tempting me, I can't..” Ellie swallowed, “Can’t do this.”

You had leaned up a bit, “You think I'm tempting El?” your voice came out slow and sweet, like molasses on her lips. Ellie and you both knew that trip-wire had been stepped directly on. The explosion had been Ellie’s lips crashing into your own, harsh enough that you were left with puffy lips for the rest of the day. She was just as sweet as you imagined, and you were hooked from the first bite against her lip. The two of you only pulled away when you heard the wheels of your father’s car. You knew if he caught you two, all the fun would end.

From there, Ellie was just as bad as you. Her hands found your waist whenever you passed by her in the barn, sneaking behind the buildings to meet you for a few handsy kisses and calloused hands pressing up shirts. Ellie became louder, a more mouthy side escaping her. Usually, it consisted of tumbling swears when you wore something she liked or loud jokes whenever you two were alone. You liked this side of her, always skipping away from your small meetings just as giddy as the first time, cheeks red from laughing.

Ellie began staying a little past sunset, knowing your kind father would invite her for dinner each time. You both knew it was just so she could watch as you and your father set the table, enjoying how you floated around the room only to always land in the seat next to hers. You both enjoyed how her palm always found your thigh under the table, usually rendering you the babbling one for once. Ellie stuck around till the very last minute, and the excellent daughter you were, you always offered to walk her out. The thrill of how easy it would be to get caught only made the goodnight kisses even more, mind-numbing, pressing through the window of her car to find her lips. “G’night, Ellie,” you always whispered through flushed cheeks. “Goodnight, angel,” Ellie always replied.

You often found yourself with a hand over your mouth, pressed against a door or any other surface you found acceptable and quiet. Ellie was talented with her fingers and mouth, and you had fallen victim to being a little too loud many times. It gained this recurring theme of her hand pressing against your lips and cheeks. Ellie hushed you repeatedly, demanding you two couldn’t be caught. The farm was only ever quiet when you two snuck around, mouth against your ear, sweat sticking to both of your bodies as she dragged too many orgasms to count from you.

One particularly sweltering day, your father had packed his trunk and left for the summer farmers market. It left the land to be only occupied by you and Ellie, who worked on the broken wood of the stairs outside your porch. You pushed your window all the way open, drawing the blinds back to let in more air. The heat was sticky in the way you hated— pressing down on your body with its humidity, grasping around your arms and legs like a grabby human, wrapping around you with a blanket you couldn't remove. It drew the hours of the day at a much too slow pace, swearing the minutes on your clock ticked a little slower in the muggy day.

It led you to peer out your window, enjoying the sight of Ellie’s muscles flexing against the white wife beater she wore a little too much. The way, even from up here, you could hear the small grunts of effort she let off had you shifting around in your spot, suddenly even more bogged down with heat.

You could only imagine how hot she must be stuck under the direct sunlight. You debate hollering down to her in a request to distract each other from the heat. Instead, you decide to have a little fun, standing up and directly in front of the open window as you pull your shirt off your body. The excuse you tell yourself is that it’s too warm to deal with the itchy fabric, much cooler in the bra and shorts you now dawned. You could feel a gaze on you from the ground below, and you stretched your arms up and above your head to cure the ache as you turned away from the window. You barely had five minutes before hearing the creaking of your front door.

It didn’t take long for you two to find each other in your room, Ellie pressing through the door. “What are you doing?” she questions, kicking off her boots to keep your pristine floorboards free of dirt. Your arms crossed over your body, shrugging. Watching as her breathing seemed to slow, the white wifebeater she wore just looked even more handsome now that you could see the subtle way it was crumpled and off place from working.

“It’s hot; I'm alone, so I got comfortable. Didn’t think peeping tom would see me,” you tease, stepping a bit closer as you wipe a bead of sweat from her freckled cheek. “You knew I would look,” Ellie muttered, slumping gently into your palm. “Maybe I did,” you nod in agreement, a mischievous smile finding its way to your lips. “Maybe I wanted attention..” you offer, hand moving from her face. The pad of your pointer finger runs over the low collar of her shirt. “Need somethin’ to distract me from the heat while daddy’s still out..”

Ellie huffed, her own hand coming to grip at your hand, pulling it off her chest. “So you teased me, hoping I'd come up and play with you?” She asked, dipping against your cheek to press a soft kiss there, pressing more small pecks until they reached your lips, humming when you pushed needily toward her. “Put me to work in your own way?” she chastises, pulling you close enough for a hand to find your ass, digging her fingers into the fat.

“No,” you shook your head, tilting your chin up. Today you wanted to try something different. Reward Ellie for all the hard work she did for the farm. It was an idea that had been building in your mind for a while, and you licked your lips as you began to describe it, “Wanna make you feel good, Ellie. You’re always makin’ me feel good..”

Ellie chuckled softly, her cheeks already red from the sun outside only worsened at your request, palm moving from the swell of your ass to skim over the small of your back, leaving your skin tingling in its wake. “How would you like to do that, pretty girl?”

Instead of answering her with words, you dropped to your knees in front of her, “want you to let me do this for you,” your comments dragged out, pulling the same way the all-encompassing heat did in your room. The bone of your knees find comfort on the small white rug on the ground as you shuffle. You blink up at her, reveling in how she sucks in a breath.

“Fuck- alright—” Ellie fumbled with her hands on the buckle of her jeans, dropping the dirtied fabric down to pool at her feet. Ellie stepped out of them, and you pushed them away, scrambling to be directly beneath. “You ever done this before, baby?” Ellie questioned, petting your hair softly as you made your own move to tug at her boxers impatiently. You shook your head; eyes focused on the small wet patch of her underwear. “I'm a quick learner, though.”

Ellie huffed in response, unable to meet your eyes when your cheek pressed against her slightly spread thigh. You didn’t mind how the heat only pushed further down on your body at the contact, enjoying this humidity too much. Your lips found her thigh, trying your best to recreate the teasing Ellie often enacted on you when the current roles were reversed. Your teeth scraped over the flesh of her inner thigh, tongue following the indents as you spent a few minutes kissing over each thigh, enjoying how you could tell her center was growing weepier by the second. “Don't fuckin tease,” Ellie breathed eventually, her hand finding your head, guiding it up between her more.

Always looking to please, you don’t put up a fight— tongue poking out to lavish over her pussy, collecting the wetness built there. You pressed your neck into an uncomfortable bend, fingers pulling her thighs apart for a better angle. Taking time with the feeling of her shaking chest reverberating on your face, of the only smell and taste you could feel was her, you licked lazily. You searched around her folds to your content. Only had you sped up when that mouthiness of Ellie returned to the silent house.

“Fuck, such a good mouth on you, angel,” Ellie groaned, tugging harshly at your roots as her hips rocked slightly. “You sure you haven’t done this before?” She asked as if you could reply, pressing further down into you as another wave of wetness spread across your lips and cheeks. “Too fuckin good,” she muttered, head tilting back to let a ragged breath out into the air.

The tongue dipped over her clit, causing another swear out of her lips. “Right there, do that again,” she asked, rewarding you with another soft pet over your hair before fingers wrapped in it again. Your body listened before your kind even could, wet lips wrapping around her bud. “Jesus-” Ellie whined. It sends signals straight through each nerve in your body, raising a deep seeded want to hear that sound again, sucking harshly at her clit and then licking up the slick dripping from her slit again, a fast-paced pattern following. You didn’t mind how sticky you felt, how beads of sweat built where your knees folded, how sore your neck was becoming. What you did care about was the now constant groans falling from Ellie.

“What if your dad could see you now, angel?” Ellie spoke, causing you to press your thighs together at the mere thought of being caught. “His pretty little daughter on her knees for the farm hand, acting like she’s starved for my cunt,” Ellie grits, a harsher grip on the locks of your hair. “What would your daddy think, baby?”

If Ellie had told you her words were magic, you would have believed it with the next set of sounds you both heard. Heavy boots stomping up the stairs. Maybe you had been too focused on your current desire to listen to the gravel road crunching under tires or the flimsy porch door opening in the wind. When a harsh knock comes to your door, a hand yanks you from her thighs, neck tilting to look up at messy auburn hair and flushed cheeks. Ellie’s eyes danced around your glossy lips and cheeks, nearly folding to her own knees when you licked at the wetness on your bottom lip.

“You in there, darling? You seen Ellie? All her tools are here, but I can’t find her. The farmer's market ended early cause’ of the heat.” Both of your bodies froze completely, though Ellie’s legs shook in what you assumed to be nervousness.

Ellie gave another sharp tug to your hair, mouthing for you to answer. Your voice struggles to find a footing that makes it sound steady in your throat as you answer your father, “I'm here, Daddy, just takin a nap. I think Ellie’s out in the south barn, remember her saying she forgot some wood for the stairs there.”

Before you can even consider answering again, Ellie is forcing you back between her thighs, and you happily go back to lapping at her despite the way your heart was falling into the pit of your stomach knowing full well one twist of the doorknob would ruin everything.

“Alright, I’ll let you rest. Gonna do some work in my office,” your dad answered. It's a relief when he doesn’t search for a reply, the creaking floorboard sounding at the same time Ellie can't bite back a softer moan.

The sound of his office door shutting has Ellie a little more confident when her rasping voice sounds, “Want you to make me come before he finds us.” She sighs it out, cheeks almost as wet as yours from the sweat building against the freckles there. You were positive there was nothing prettier.

“Want to soak your face while he’s right next door.”

#rins reqs ❀.#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams smut

2K notes · View notes

leonslutkennedeeznuts · 1 year ago

Text

Lovin' Your Skin | Tattoo Artist!Leon x Fem!Reader

"With that, Leon flexed his arms so you could get a better look. He was covered in ink. You wanted to spend all day and night tracing your fingers over the works of art inked onto his skin, hearing his stories about what each tattoo represented." (AO3) | Tattoo Artist Leon credit: tanya.gavva

You didn’t even want a tattoo but you figured it wouldn’t be that bad. Your pain tolerance was low, you weren’t 100% certain the design you’d picked would look good on your skin forever but Leon was sooo gorgeous. Just to be near him in the tattoo parlor for a few hours would make everything so worth it. Or so you’d thought.

Leon was covered in tattoos. He had sleeves on both arms and you could see the beginning of a neck piece as you stole a few glances at him here and there. He was so focused the few times you’d gone by the shop to watch him work. He was your friend’s tattoo artist. This was all her fault really. Months ago she’d asked you to come by with her for yet another tattoo and when you’d seen the blonde haired beauty of a man who did the work, you were head over heels.

“Name’s Leon,” he’d said as he shook your hand.

Leon. A name you wanted to be screaming every night.

“What makes you want a tattoo,” he’d asked you as your friend checked out her finished piece in the mirror behind him. “It can be addicting, I must warn you.”

You didn’t want a tattoo. You wanted him. Same difference.

“Always thought about it,” you lied, awkwardly laughing. You hoped he couldn’t read the lust on your face as you caught a glimpse of him licking his lips. “Yours look really cool, very intricate.”

With that, Leon flexed his arms so you could get a better look. He was covered in ink. You wanted to spend all day and night tracing your fingers over the works of art inked onto his skin, hearing his stories about what each tattoo represented.

“Wow,” you whispered, stepping closer to get a better look. “You did these all yourself?”

Leon shook his head. “Most but not all. Couldn’t reach my back but I designed that piece myself.” He winked at you before asking. “You want to see it?”

It was pathetic how fast you shook your head yes. Leon’s body was a work of art in itself. He made a little show of taking his shirt off for you, your friend laughing and shaking her head in the background still eying her own ink. How she was immune to Leon’s charm and sex appeal was beyond you.

Leon had a rose tattoo that started the sleeve on his right shoulder, in honor of his grandmother he’d said, that led into abstract shapes, you spied a spiderweb on his elbow and even a sea turtle on his inner arm, an Eagle on his neck- you stopped trying to decipher everything and started to take in the view of his abs. He’d been getting tattooed since his 21st birthday, something he’d done with his friends on a drunken dare after failing out of the police academy but quickly discovered his love of the profession.

After opening his first tattoo shop at 27, he started designing and doing his own tattoos as best as he could to promote his business. Now he was booked up months in advance. He always made time for your friend though.

His chest wasn’t covered yet, he’d mentioned thinking of leaving that bare for now. You imagined how your hands would rest perfectly on his pecs as you rode him into oblivion.

Leon caught you staring, you weren’t really hiding it. You wondered if he was tatted up from the waist down as well, how your untouched flesh would look against his in the heat of passion, how you wanted his name breathlessly leaving your lips-

“Do you want a tattoo, seriously?” Your friend’s voice cut through the sexual tension like a knife. “I think she’s lying, Leon.”

“No, I’m serious! I do want one. I have a Pinterest board of ideas,” you spat out hurriedly. “Here,” you said, lifting up your sleeve to show the spot on your wrist where you wanted to be inked.

Leon, still shirtless, took your wrist into his hands, eying it and you. “A wrist tat, hmm? I’d be honored to be your first,” he’d simply stated. Still shirtless. Still eyeing you in disbelief.

If he wanted to call your bluff, so be it as long as he was calling you.

“Yep and maybe a neck one too, ya know, one that people can’t see unless I wear my hair up.”

Your friend rolled her eyes and began to grab her purse and car keys. From what you’d seen her tattoo was beautiful, a bright Koi fish on her left shoulder to match the aquatic sleeve she was getting done eventually.

“I will believe it when I see it, Y/N. Don’t waste Leon’s time just because you think he’s hot,” she chided jokingly as she went to the door.

Leon put his tank top back on and handed you one of his business cards, letting his fingers linger on yours for a bit too long to be an accident.

“Well, Y/N, if you’re serious here’s my contact information. I don’t have any openings really in the next few months but text me and I will see what I can do for you.” He winked at you again. “Want to see this Pinterest board of yours.”

“Oh, right, totally! I’ll send you the link.” Great, now you had to create a Pinterest board of tattoos that you hoped Leon thought were cool. Your eyes lingered to the perfect pout of his lips then to his cerulean eyes. “I can’t wait to set up my appointment with you, Leon.”

You weren’t planning to actually get a tattoo. You just wanted a way to talk to him really and the guy owned a tattoo shop, clearly that was something he was passionate about. What better way to get his attention than to get him to tattoo you himself? Right?

—-------

It was Leon that actually called you first.

After that evening in his shop, you realized that if you did reach out to him that it would be obvious you weren’t really serious about all this. You were sure women flocked at him all the time with lies about tattoos to get him in their bed. You wouldn’t be the first.

Your friend was no help. She claimed that Leon either had a girlfriend already or was hooking up with a fellow artist at another shop.

“Her name starts with J, I think,” she’d said deep in thought. “Or maybe it’s the redhead biker chick from that bar.”

But you forgot all about that when you got a call from an unknown number a few days later.

“Leon?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he confirmed with a slight chuckle. “I never heard back from you about the tattoo, was wondering if you changed your mind about seeing me.”

You always wanted to see him. From the few times you’d met he had an effect on you but he was a huge flirt. Maybe he was just trying to get a new client aka more money, nothing personal.

“Oh, I- the tattoo,” you sighed and decided to come clean. “Look, Leon, I don’t know about that anymore.”

“Understandable, I honestly figured as much.” You heard some faint background noise of a horror movie playing in the background. Seems like he was home alone on a Friday night too.

“Well, in the spirit of being honest, Y/N, I was hoping to just see you again. Tattoo or not.”

You almost dropped your phone in shock. You didn’t know what you thought Leon’s type was but it definitely wasn’t you. He seemed like a total badass, a bad boy. You were a goody two shoes overachiever working a boring 9-5 while Leon was a daredevil risk taker.

Plus you were pretty sure Leon was a little over six years older than you. Which made his admission all the more arousing. You couldn’t help the throbbing you felt between your legs now.

“Cat got your tongue,” he teased, clearly enjoying this.

“No, I’m just kind of shocked,” you admitted. “I didn’t think I was your type really.”

You thought back to the women your friend had mentioned Leon dated. You’d seen them both in passing, looked nothing like you (or one another) but they were gorgeous. You felt so basic by comparison.

Leon was silent for a bit, you almost thought he’d hung up before you heard him clear his throat. “Hmm, how about I take you out tomorrow night and show you how much of my type you are?”

It was a date.

—-------

You don’t know exactly how this happened. One minute you were agreeing to let Leon walk you to your apartment door and the next he had you wet and begging for him to fuck you, his lips on your neck definitely leaving hickeys for everyone to see that you were his. The date had gone very well to your surprise and now it was about to get even better.

First thing you noticed about Leon was that he was an amazing kisser. His hands were feeling you up all over, just enough to get you hot and bothered and leaning into his embrace silently begging for more. He sucked your tongue and grinded into you, almost dry humping on the couch before you couldn’t take anymore and told him where your bedroom was.

Leon was an animal in bed and yet still a total gentleman, which you kind of expected but nothing prepared you for the real thing. He didn’t have tattoos from the waist down, and yes you looked quite thoroughly while you were down there with his dick sliding down your throat.

You’d never enjoyed giving head before tonight, before you’d met Leon and heard his whispers, groans and moans as you sucked him. At this angle, he was able to play with your pussy and rub your clit as you licked his pre-cum covered tip before attempting to deep throat him again.

“Fuck, Y/N, so good, you’re such a good girl,” he moaned. He slipped a finger, then another into your wet pussy. “Mmm, so tight, baby.”

You couldn’t talk if you wanted to with him so deep in your mouth but you moaned around his cock, causing him to cuss under his breath and pull out completely, not wanting to cum just yet. He rubbed his shaft on your swollen lips, your mouth almost desperately trying to suck him back in.

Leon took his fingers out of your pussy and sucked on them. “Gonna enjoy eating you out,” he whispered, kissing his way down to finally taste you. “I won’t stop until you cum.”

You could’ve finished right then and there just hearing him say that. When his tongue licked your center then up to your clit, you almost screamed. It felt so good, too good. You didn’t think you were going to last long at all. Seeing Leon’s gorgeous flush face clearly enjoying the taste of you was already too much and he’d only just started.

He held you by the back of your knees, pressing them into your chest as he licked, sucked and ate you like a man starving. You’d never cum from this before, never had someone so into it. You were squirming and bucking into his mouth earning more moans from him. When his tongue dipped into your pussy you did scream, his name leaving your lips over and over as you squealed and released onto his tongue.

“Leon, I’m cumming,” you whined in an almost broken voice, your toes curling and your eyes rolling back into your head. “Oh fuck, too much,” you begged, trying to wiggle out of his grasp to no avail as he kept licking you, refusing to waste a drop of your cum. “Leon, please.”

When Leon said he wouldn’t stop until you came, what he really meant was that he wouldn’t stop until you came twice. Despite the cramp in your legs you gripped his blond hair so hard you knew it was painful for him but he didn’t seem to mind, sucking and tonguing your pussy with more vigor than before.

He slid two fingers back into your pussy and you almost accidentally kicked him due to overstimulation. You were almost boohoo crying as Leon was just eating you out without a care in the world. You had no idea what you’d do when he finally fucked you, your nails clawing up his tattooed back leaving your own imprint on his skin even if it didn’t last forever.

Leon moaned and hummed against your cunt knowing how close you were again already. “Cum for me again, Y/N.” After a few more thrusts of his fingers against your g-spot you were seeing stars. “Now.”

This time you were sure the neighbors heard you. You’d be embarrassed at how pitiful you sounded later because right now you were in the throes of passion. Leon held you down with no effort as your body jerked and bucked against his eager mouth.

Nobody had ever made you cum this hard, reducing you into a blubbering mess, begging Leon to fuck you as your sweet cum covered his mouth and jaw.

“Holy shit,” you managed to breathe out when he finally freed you from his grasp. You didn’t know if you were floating or still laying on the bed at this point. If he told you it was Christmas day you’d believe him, your mind was so frazzled. “Fucking Christ, Leon.”

His Cheshire cat grin appeared above you, eying you with pure lust and pride. Leon had never been with someone so vocal before, it definitely stroked his ego.

“Believe me now?” Leon didn’t wait for you to respond before rubbing the tip of his cock against your almost sore clit.

“How about now,” he teasingly asked before slapping his shaft on your pussy.

He was so hard, almost painfully so. He’d wanted you since the first time you’d met but figured you weren’t into guys with tattoos. Go figure.

“Leon, please, just fuck me already,” you begged. You arched your back into his embrace, staring into his eyes as kept teasing you. “I’ll believe you when you fuck me.”

You knew Leon wasn’t going to be a missionary kind of guy, nothing wrong with that position but after having it so often with your lackluster ex, you wanted something a bit more. Being folded like a pretzel on the edge of your bed as Leon slid into you, his thick cock hitting that spot inside of you that had you whimpering- just what the doctor ordered.

With a pillow under your head you had the perfect view to watch Leon fuck you hard, deep and fast. Your slick was covering his cock, the sounds of your wetness and his balls slapping against your ass the soundtrack of your fuck session as the mattress creaked underneath you.

He was caressing your bouncing tits, squeezing and pinching your hard nipples just enough to keep you on edge but not enough to push you over just yet. You could barely decipher what you were even saying, just heavy breathing, squeaking and squealing Leon’s name over and over, praising and thanking him.

“You’re taking me so well, sweetheart,” you heard him whisper above you. Leon was in awe at the sight of your tight, little pussy creaming on his cock. He made sure to get you nice and wet so you could take him all without pain. “Fuck, Y/N, I want to fill you up.”

You gripped his tattooed arms to stay grounded to reality as your orgasm crept up on you, trying to memorize every piece of ink on his flesh in case this was a one time thing- in case you were actually dreaming and he wasn’t really here with you.

“Yeah, cum in me, Leon,” you heard yourself saying. It was like an out of body experience. You honestly felt like you’d disintegrate when you finally came on his fat dick. “It’s your pussy, baby. Only yours.”

Leon thrust into you slowly as you both came hard, bodies shaking and aching as you messily kissed one another, hands roaming all over while Leon grunted and came inside of you. You made sure to rub and caress his back as he did so, enjoying how he gave into your embrace as he filled you up until his cum began dripping out.

You still weren’t sold on getting a tattoo any time soon but dating a tattoo artist who was a beast in bed wasn’t the worst thing ever, you figured as sleep took over you both.

476 notes · View notes

moofbat · 6 months ago

Text

next up! muscled beach babe azu <3 love is stored in the gainz btw. and she wants you to wear spf this summer.

ID: a full coloured digital drawing of azu lying on her front on a pink towel on a sunny beach. she is viewed from the left, smiling at the viewer as she is propped up on her elbows with her knees bent and feet crossed in the air. azu is a brown skinned orc with a shaved head, she is very muscular and has two tusks sticking out of her mouth, one of which is chipped. she is wearing a golden bikini, the top ties at the back and around the neck, and the bottom piece is tied at the side. the bikini and her skin are glowing in the sun, and her black eyes have a slight twinkle. her nails and toenails are long and painted pink, and she has two tattoos, a rose on the top of her hand and a large, partially obscured thigh piece featuring blossoms and a dove. end ID.

#rqg #rusty quill gaming #rqgaming #rqg fanart #rqg art #azu #rqg azu #jasp draws #this was healing to do #azu i love you so much. forever.#she’s the most beautiful girl of all time #beach day

178 notes · View notes

shirefantasies · 4 months ago

Text

Thorin’s Company When You Tell Them the Legend of Brísingamen (F!Reader)

Tagging @welikeimagines-andfandoms for the idea inspiration, thanks love 😉 Warnings: suggestive of course given the nature of this legend 😂 but no explicit acts described

"In my world, dwarves are but the stuff of legend," you told your company, all rapt at your words and the sight of your features flickering in the fireglow as they rose into a little smirk, "In fact, one of my favorite legends involves a group of dwarves." "Well, go on, then!" Gloin encouraged. "Tell us!" "Yeah," Ori agreed, eyes shining, "What are you waiting for?" "Dramatic effect," you teased with a grin, "But I shall tell you the legend of Brísingamen. Known as the necklace of flame, Brísingamen was the most beautiful piece of jewelry in the world." "Crafted by dwarves no doubt!" Bombur chimed in. "Of course," you nodded, smiling softly, "Four dwarves forged it: Alfrik, Berling, Grer, and Dvalin." "Sounds a lot like..." Nori teased, elbowing Dwalin. "Indeed!" You agreed, nodding the tattooed dwarf's way. "Maybe it's a relative, huh? Well, Brísingamen was not just beautiful, but magical! Its protective magic attracted the goddess Freya, who offered to purchase it with great riches of silver and gold. The dwarves, however, had no need for her treasure. Rather they offered a different form of payment: they would give her the necklace if she was willing to spend a night with each of them." "They didn't!" Nori burst out, smiling devilishly. "Well," Balin countered, "Even if they did, it doesn't mean-" "And that, my friends," you cut him off with a wicked grin of your own, "Is the story of how Freya acquired Brísingamen." Uproar overtook the camp, shouts of triumph, applause, laughter, outrage, shock from Bilbo, and you loved every minute of it. One particular reaction stood out to you, however....

Balin

"Ah, lass," Balin teased you, shaking his head, "What've you gone and filled their heads with now?" "Old stories," you answered with a shrug and a look of mock-innocence, "Myths, really. Tales I thought they might get a kick out of." "A little too much of a kick, I daresay," Balin replied, nodding toward Nori, who looked you up and down with a smile. "I'm not so easily bought as Freya," you told him, "I would give myself only to the one who has my heart." At that, Balin arched a bushy white brow. "And who might that be?" Involuntarily your jaw dropped at his question, eyes staring into his as anew. "You mean you do not know?" “You mean you want me like I want you? How?” Balin’s brown eyes shone so sincerely your heart all but broke, save for a select phrase that played over and over again, turning your fluttering heart back over and curling your lips back into a grin. “It wasn’t only their heads I filled with ideas, was it?”

Dwalin

Shaking his head, Dwalin gave a little snort. "All that over a necklace." Dropping back down onto the log at his side, shifting on its rough surface, you gave him a teasing smile. "You wouldn't do it, then?" Rather than a verbal answer, the dwarf gave you an exasperated glare you laughed heartily at. "Would you?" He asked in gruff incredulity. "Four's a lot to handle," you joked, "Even if it's not at a time. Think I'd just pick my favorite and go with that." "Oh, you've favorites, then?" "I quite liked one of them. What was his name again?" Putting a finger to your chin, you kept teasing. "It was very familiar." "What makes you think he'd spend the night with you?" "I can be very persuasive," you replied, lowering your voice and leaning closer, your nose almost brushing his. "He's going to need you to persuade him a little harder than that." "That can be arranged," you told the tattooed dwarf, a hand falling to his knee as you planned to make him ever regret asking.

Thorin

“What was the point of you telling that story?” Thorin. Off to the side, not sitting down, hands folded at his back. Serious. Of course. “Just for a bit of fun,” you told him with a shrug. “Fun? Is that what you want with us? All of us to-” “Skies above, Thorin,” you waved both hands defensively, “Is that what you think of me? I only told it because I knew they would like it. I want to help you, you know. I care about you.” At that, the king-to-be shook his head, some black locks loosening and falling to his shoulder with the motion. “You’re right. That was unfair and I am sorry,” he apologized, blue eyes wavering from yours, “I don’t know what came over me, I just-” Something flashed in those fierce icy eyes as he trailed off, something that had your lips quirking upward. “Wait, were you…jealous?” A full grin graced your face, teasingly glinting at Thorin. “You didn’t like the thought of me spending the night with all the others, did you?” The dwarf shook his head at that, but you caught the smallest of smiles playing upon his face as he did so. “See? I got a smile out of you!” “You simply never cease to surprise me,” Thorin told you, resting a hand on your shoulder.

Oin

"Did I hear that right?" "You sure did," you told him, elbowing him as you settled against his side, the warmth of the healer's coat. "Well, aren't ye a saucy lass?" He laughed heartily. "What was that Freya thinking?" Shrugging, you told him, "I don't think it was her idea. Remember, those naughty dwarves would not accept her treasures.” “I would say they did!” Oin burst out into another laugh, putting his hands up. “But I guess you caught me there. We know how to have a little fun, us dwarvenkind!” “Do you now?” You asked, leaning forward with your chin resting on your fist. For all his hearing difficulties, Oin didn’t miss a beat that time. “Come to the healer’s tent for a little checkup and I daresay you’ll find out.”

Gloin

Gloin had laughed with the rest of them, but now he was snorting to himself. Taking a seat at his side, you asked him what that was about. “So they denied the treasure of a goddess? Bloody fools those dwarves were!” Hands on your hips, you leaned in closer to frown right at Gloin. “Some romantic you are!” “I don’t think romance had anything to do with it,” he pointed out with a sardonic smile, “But if it did? Oh, I would give every jewel, every coin in the kingdom to be with my One for but an hour! Time like that shines brighter than all the wealth of the mines!” Lips parting wordlessly, you stared at the auburn-haired dwarf, blinking once, twice. “Well, how’d I do?” He asked with a grin, resting a gloved hand gently upon your knee. “Enough romance for you?” You licked your lips and nodded, prompting him to connect the space between your lips. “Good,” he said in a low voice as you separated, “That story gave me a couple ideas. Four nights and all. I don’t fancy sharin’, though.”

Bifur

Chuckling to yourself, you made to look for a seat, noticing many members of the company parting rapidly to make room for you but choosing the spot next to Bifur, who smiled at you as he whittled. "Did you like that story?" You turned and asked him. Looking up for just a moment from the round shape he was carving, Bifur nodded eagerly, smiling at you beneath his braided mustache. Chuckling, you just settled in, your arm resting against his. "Well, good." Sparing glances at his whittling between other conversation, you caught a series of interconnected shapes and finally inquired as to his creation. "What are you making?" What he said you could not understand, but the small series of connected circles were held above his head and down, pantomiming draping it around his neck. "Is that... a necklace?" Gaze opening even bigger, you smiled wide and wicked into Bifur's hazel eyes. Lips quirking upward, he nodded and made to hand it to you before playfully yanking it away. What could you say? He knew what he wanted.

Bofur

“Well, well, well!” A weight and a warmth settled at your side after you’d selected a seat, one conveniently without any of the neighbors eagerly waving you over. Just the one you’d been hoping for, in fact, the sight of Bofur next to you with eager eyes and raised eyebrows brought a smile to your face. “You can’t go running off after a story like that!” “Where would you have me go, then,” you asked, “My dear Bofur?” “If I’m being honest, to bed with me, but I haven’t a single pretty thing to offer you. Just my toys and my trusty hat.” His words were joking, but his voice was almost…sad? “You think I want all that? I’m no goddess, Bofur,” you replied, “I like my campfires and saucy tales. I like a good night with someone I care about. And most of all, I love your toys and your hat.” “Really?” He leaned forward, hands gripping the log at his sides as he grinned, eyes darting this way and that over you.” “Really,” you answered, “Now are you going to kiss me or do I have to?”

Bombur

Bombur addressed you softly as you settled at his side, accepting him as your neighbor due to him being one of the few you trusted after a tale like that. Not to mention him being the most comfortable one or how sweet he was. Sure enough, his voice was as warm as ever, but gentler as he asked you, “Those dwarves must’ve been pretty dashing, eh?” “Something like that,” you answered, eyes sliding away from his teasingly. “What d’you suppose they might’ve looked like?” “Oh, great beards for sure,” you told him, “No doubt about that. I like to imagine them with fiery hair but hearts that burn with a much more tender light.” “That the kind of dwarf you could spend the night with?” Bombur asked, hazel eyes glowing with hope. “Indeed,” you answered with a smile, “I think I could.”

Dori

"So she really went through with it?" Glancing up from the steam curling out of your tin cup into Dori's blue eyes, you shrugged. "According to the old tale." Nose wrinkling, the dwarf sat next to you, careful not to disturb his own warm mug. "That's disgusting! Where is the respect?" The dwarves' for Freya or Freya for herself you were unsure; either way your reply was the same. "They offered, she accepted," you answered with a shrug before gazing back up at him, eyes sliding over the flutter of his lashes as he took a sip of evening tea, his lips gripping the mug's edge, "And besides, maybe she had just been waiting for an excuse to be with one of them." At that, Dori lowered his drink and fixed you with an intent look. "What are you saying? Do you mean to imply that-” “Yes,” you cut him off, “Yes, I am.” “I don’t have any necklaces,” Dori told you, raising a hand almost defensively. “But what,” you asked him, pushing the mug in his other hand gently down below his face, “Might you do if you had?” “I- I don't suppose I would need it that badly. If- if you liked it.” Eyes darting rapidly to your lips, Dori gave you his full attention.

Nori

"Nice night, isn't it, Freya? Oops, I mean-" Covering his mouth with his hand, Nori feigned innocence and correcting to your name, eyes sliding very deliberately to yours. "What's this?" You shot back, crossing your arms. "Are we dreaming again?" "Come on," Nori procured and swigged from his hip flask, an arm thrown casually over the rock at his back, "You can't deny there was some, shall we say, subliminal messaging in your little faery story there?" “Perhaps you were just projecting,” you countered, lowering into the seat at his side. “Twasn’t I who felt the need to tell us all about some lass ‘n her love of all things dwarfkind. And I do mean all things.” He added, punctuating his statement with a wink. “Are you trying to convince me your folk have some tricks up their sleeves?” "Not exactly up our sleeves." "For Mahal's sake," Gloin called out, "I'll give you the bloody jewels myself if you two just throw a blanket out in the woods and get this over with yourselves!" At that, Nori simply cast out an arm like a humble servant, although his expression could only be described as that of an eager housecat when you smiled back at him.

Ori

Twas Ori that came to you, taking you by surprise at his look of eager questioning. "So when you say Freya spent the night with them, you mean she..." He didn't need to go any further; you simply nodded as he trailed shyly off, brown eyes drifting down to the earth. "As the legend goes." "Those aren't real dwarves!" He replied, knitted gloved hands curling into fists as he looked back up. "Real dwarves would respect a lady far more than that! They would offer her gems in gratitude and celebration of one so fair." All teasing melted from your face in favor of a wide, soft smile. "Oh, Ori, any lady would be lucky to have you by her side. You're a gem in and of yourself." "You really think so?" He beamed. "I know so," you answered with a nod. "Wh- When we get to Erebor, I’m going to find you the biggest jewel I can get my hands on!” Ori burst out, hastily amending it. “Besides the Arkenstone, of course. Thorin would get jealous seeing how much prettier you are.” His earnest tone had your heart fluttering, let alone the way he smiled at you. "Well, then it is I who is luckiest."

Fili

“I would not be so confident, brother. Isn’t that right?” You’d hardly been listening until you heard Fili address you by name, head snapping up the blonde prince’s way instantly. “What was that?” “See? She ignored you,” Fili quipped to his brother before facing you again. They’d both been sitting casually by the fire, legs thrown apart and boots resting slightly raised on rocks or other forest debris as they conversed. The moment you chimed in, though, the brothers leaned forward with their full attention focused on you. “When we arrive at the Lonely Mountain, we’ll both be picking something out for you,” Fili continued. He couldn’t mean…. “Well… thank you?” You answered, hesitating slightly. Every trace of hesitation, however, melted away when the prince added the next comment. “Necklaces. Unless you’d prefer a ring?” “Necklaces are fine by me,” you answered, fully confident in your understanding, “But aren’t you a little bold assuming I’ll want two?” “That,” Fili replied without a moment’s hesitation, grey eyes glinting, “Is why you’ll have to choose.” “Don’t worry, my gems will be a much more impressive cut! Just as you might expect,” Kili chimed in. “But mine will shine much brighter,” Fili retorted, turning back to you, “What do you say?”

Kili

"Oh," Kili spoke your name, "Just wait until we reach the Lonely Mountain, you'll see." "See what?" You asked, raising a brow at the eager-faced dwarf prince. "How much bigger our jewels are. Much bigger than any Bringer-Men." "Brísingamen," you corrected with a laugh, shaking your head at Kili's excitement. "You'll see. When the light strikes them just right, they shine like the very stars in the sky. No, brighter still. They shine almost as bright as your eyes.” Feeling a flush rise to your cheeks, you frown slightly at the black-haired prince. “What is all this?” “I’m saying if you want a necklace, I can find you one,” Kili replies in a low voice. “Oh,” you answer, smirking, “It better be the biggest one you can find.” "You know that's what I have waiting for you: the biggest one you can find." He was proud of that one. You could tell. All you could do was smile widely and shake your head... At least, that was, until Fili approached you. "Oy, bugger off," Kili called, "She's already getting a necklace from me!" "Not if I get one first." "Who says? I'm faster. Mine'll be bigger!" "Says who?" "Says Kili," you chimed in with a smirk. "See? She wants one from me!" You could have chimed in with the reminder that you were not the goddess Freya, but watching the brotherly spat complete with a budding slap fight was too entertaining. Sitting back with satisfaction, your eyes darted over the metaphorical carnage, the only thoughts in your head being of how flattered you were as the subject of the princes' fight.

Bilbo

"So," Bilbo started awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, "All those dwarves, eh?" "For Freya, I suppose," you replied, shrugging and taking up the stick to stoke the fire before looking back up at the hobbit, "I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable. It was just a bit of fun for all them. I knew they'd all have a laugh." "No, no, it was good," Bilbo shook his head and put up his hands, an aura still as tense and searching stretched across his sweet, warm features, "Very- very funny. I especially liked the way you told it. Riveting. You really are good at it, you know. Storytelling." "You heard all that and the foremost thing you got," you asked, "Was me?" "Well," Bilbo fidgeted, hands wringing as the trees suddenly got very fascinating, "I just couldn't stop thinking about- That is, I suppose I was wondering if you told them that in hopes that they would, you know. Want to... act it out. And I have no doubt they would." Bubbling up from your chest before you could stop it was a laugh, one great and high and sharp laugh of pure disbelief. "Well, perhaps they would, but you wouldn’t catch me taking them up on it in an age! None of them are exactly my sort,” you replied. “And here I thought you were thick as thieves! If you don’t mind my asking,” Bilbo inquired, pulling his pipe from a pocket within the folds of his coat, “What is your sort, then?” “Are hobbits good craftsmen?” You asked in response, leaning forward with another grin.

178 notes · View notes

yiiyiiwrites · 3 months ago

Text

🗡️ | Relics and Ruins | 3 |

Part Three [series masterlist]

summary: you're a mender in the dawn court, tasked with fixing cursed and broken relics. Azriel x dawn court reader

2318words, not edited and wrote on my phone so might be some errors

The in-between moments of winnowing was always something you never got used to. You could never stick the landing doing it yourself, a tangled mess of limbs as you bring Eris down with you. He rose, straightening his long velvet overcoat, smoothing the creases from his trousers.

Golden rays of light bathed the marbled floors, veiled drapes fluttering between columns opening up to the dawn courts balcony. A summoning platform, the only place that allowed Eris to enter without an invitation.

Your court suited the autumn general, long red hair glimmering in the sun as if it too were made of fire. His skin a tad pale, you wondered what a month in the dawn court would do to his complexion.

There was never much space between the two of you, two opposites attracting like a magnet. You found it difficult to retreat from his energy.

Eris traced the side of your face with the back of his hand, you couldn't help but melt into his touch. Like a moth to a flame, you chased the dancing flickers of his movements. You didn't know if it was the power of the bond or if it was his natural charm.

“I like what you’ve done to your hair,” Eris whispered breath on your lips, his hand twisted in your hair and tilted your head back, neck aching as you gazed up at him.

You closed your eyes, humming at the heat rolling off of him.

“But I suppose, in this court you are not mine,” he said, releasing his hold on your hair and pushing you away. “Only under the mountain.”

Eris Vanserra was every bit like the autumn court, hot one minute and cold the next. You'd been burnt more than you'd like to admit though, forever searching for the warmth to escape under the mountain. To escape them.

You reminded yourself that you were safe, no longer under the mountain. No longer in need of someone to seek help in. You could look after yourself.

"I should get cleaned up," you said, wincing at the dirt clinging to your trousers and caking your boots. Bowing your head in goodbye, you're yanked back by your elbow and Eris's arms wrapped around you.

He traced your arms, the thick layers of your jacket and trousers flickered, flames licking the fabric and replacing it with shining silks, skirt pooling down to the floor. A bronzed bodice hugged the top of your body, wide neck line accentuating your collar bone, but not revealing too much.

Burgundy and gold sheer panels fell from your broad shoulders like a cape, a merge of autumn and dawn colours. The dress light and flowing, moved as if it had a life of its own in the early morning breeze.

The tattoo snaking up your right arm on full display for everyone to see. Roots stretching around your wrist, tree with spindly branches wrapping around your forearm. Lighter patches of puckered skin marred your flesh, part of the ink lost to getting too close to the flames.

"How did you know I was under the mountain?" It's all you could think about since he'd appeared and helped you summon the spirit back into its box. You swayed in his embrace, back of your head pressed to his firm chest.

"I charmed the box to tell me if you ever touched it," he paused, his thumb dragging along the burns on your arm. "so that if you ever did open it, I could be there for you." He pecked your cheek, part of you longing for more.

"You did?" The spark reigniting in your chest, the weight of his words making you relax in his hold. He was always so good when it came to talking, smooth but direct with you.

"Mmmm, never thought you'd use it though," he hummed, his nose nudging your neck. You leant to the side, allowing him more skin to touch.

You hadn’t seen him since Amarantha’s reign, some nights you felt the ache of his absence. It seemed you were both caught up with the memories, not yet wanting to let each other go.

A guard appeared from the archway, he paused a few feet away before requesting both of your presence in the throne room. You followed him in, Eris slipping his hand in yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

The doors opened, camellia's hung from the glass domed ceiling and cascaded down the columns, orange and pink petals that rivalled the sun rising in the morning. Dewy raindrops trickled from the plants, landing into the fountain bed below them.

To your surprise Rhys and Cassian were waiting in the throne room. Thesan talking to them in hushed tones, Azriel nowhere to be seen. His absence leaving an ache in your chest, you had no idea why it bothered you so much. Then you remembered the way he looked at you under the mountain.

“Ah there you are,” Thesan said turning around, lips pursed as he eyed your held hands. “Vanserra.” He nodded his head, not bowing to Eris.

“High lords,”You were quick to bow to Thesan and Rhys. “General,” you said, facing Cassian, but before you could bow Eris tugged your hand to him, stopping you in your greeting.

Cassian’s gaze was still locked onto your joined hands, no, he was staring at the marks binding you to Eris. Now you knew why the autumn general still held onto you, he wanted them to know his claim. The promise or bargain tying you to him. That you are not your own.

It’s times like this that you felt the burn, the calculated touch he used, to give himself the upper hand. Always plotting something, three steps ahead of you and oh so predictable he’d told you many times before.

You slipped out of his grasp, hating the way you wanted to return to him for a little security.

“Why were your men attacking us?” Cassian demanded, his booming voice kept you from moving from your place. You glanced out of the corner of your eye at Eris, his attention on the dirt underneath his nails and his amber eyes slid to Rhys as if it were him who spoke.

"They were my father's guards."

"Why were you under the mountain?" Rhys asked, he was the only one sitting at the table, elbow leant against the edge. Cassian's stance wide and clenched fists by his side, as if he was trying to stop himself launching into Eris. Thick brows furrowed, nose scrunched in pure hatred for the redhead.

Thesan remained at the bottom of the tiled steps of his throne, watching the scene play out. Letting them shred light on the situation, keeping back to draw up his own conclusion of whatever was going on.

You felt the weight clamp down on your shoulder, fingers digging into your flesh. Another anchor to shackle you, Eris playing the part and orchestrating the meeting to go in his own favour.

"I was there for my little mender," Eris said, framing your face with his hands. Your lips parted, breath faltering as he inched closer. Nose brushing against yours, you almost forgot where you were in the heat of his hold. Earthy scent invading your senses, smokey wood of a crackling fire and warm vanilla overpowered by cinnamon.

"Enough, Vanserra. We get your point," Thesan said, clicking at you to shake you out of whatever trance you'd slipped into. His face softened as you focused on him, blurred vision dropping like Eris had veiled you to only see him.

Shame knotted in your stomach, the way you fell into him and laid everything down for him. A sudden wave of anger washed over you, the feeling foreign to you, but it stung the back of your throat, all the unsaid words coating your tongue like poison. A tiny black wisp danced around your ear in a frenzy, murmurs of something you couldn't quite make out. You scanned the room, looking for their source only to find nothing, no one. Untucking the hair from your ear, you hide the pesky shadow undecided of what to do with it.

You were too busy trying to decipher what the wisp was mumbling in your ear, that you'd missed the conversation going on around you. Thesan called your name, deep voice filtering through the shadows and beckoning you towards him.

"An alliance has already been drawn up with you and the night court, you'll be working closely with them for some time. It's only natural that you put your alliance with Vanserra to good use," Thesan paused, he picked up more ink with his pen and scribbled on the parchment in front of him. "You will be the Dawn courts first point of contact for Vanserra."

Thesan's words cut into you, put you to good use. You know he didn't mean to harm, but it hurt none the less. A relic to command and discard for another few hundred years.

"Cassian will accompany you on these meetings for extra protection," Rhys offered, his head nodding in his generals direction.

Eris scoffed, "what are you tethered to that dog too."

The table flipped, cassian flinging it out of his path as he stormed towards Eris. Rhys struggled to hold him back, his snarling words were muffled behind you.

You whipped around, shadow escaping the strands of your hair. "Vanserra," you snapped, but he cut you off.

"General." The playful glint lightened his amber eyes, as if daring you to step out of line. Under the mountain and alone with him he was Vanserra, in front of the eyes of others he was his title. Dutiful to his role in the court and putting those in their place that disrespected him. You shivered, hoping never to go to the autumn court.

That damned tug, the deep rooted need to close the distance between you and him. You fought it, "don't be so cruel, general."

"I thought you liked that about me."

"Vanserra, sit down before I change my mind." Thesan interrupted your two heated gazes, his arm linking with yours as he pulled out a chair for you, table back in its rightful place.

The meeting was brief, no mention of the relic you found under the mountain or the night courts shadowy friend. Your mind kept wandering back to him, it had been sometime since another person had occupied your mind and intrigued you. You put it down to familiarising your energy with the truth-teller, an extension of the Illyrian.

Thesan took you aside at the end, "you will be leaving for Velaris now, Alondra has already packed your belongings."

"What, no. I'll get more done here," you argued, but he shushed you before you could list all the reasons for you to stay. You'd get Alondra later, your best friend and roommate packing your bag, the dirty rat.

Hand on your shoulder, another weight to add. "They have more scriptures on certain history than we do, what you are doing needs to be guarded so it's only logical to go with them. You are bright and capable of doing this, even if I do need to give you a little nudge." Thesan's smile lit up his face, golden hair falling into his eyes as he leant down to hug you.

Alondra and Thesan had been trying to get you to resume your visits to the friendly courts again. You used to study wherever you could before under the mountain, but now you stuck to what was known and safe. The same routine and walls, hoards of relics to distract from the thoughts, the memories.

You bid your high lord goodbye, calling upon every scrap of courage as you walked through the corridor of billowing drapes. The red tiled roofs beyond the archways curved like the spine of a dragon, you could follow the lines for ages until the tail end pointed to the balcony.

Three sets of Illyrian wings stretched before you, Cassian playfully shoving azriel and his gaze flitted to you as you stepped out onto the balcony. Heart hammering in your chest as you took tentative steps towards them. The glistening sun breaking through the clouds shone through his shadows, they curled around his shoulders taking refuge behind the shade of his wings.

"You'll be travelling with Azriel," Rhys said, but you didn't get a chance to protest as he grabbed Cassian's arm and winnowed away. You stared at his vacant spot, eyes sweeping the area in search of Eris who had already left. Damn you for that spec of disappointment of no goodbye.

A gloved hand appeared, "Ready?" His low smooth voice drew your attention and you found yourself putting your hand in his. He hooked one arm under your legs and back, hoisting you up against his chest. The cobalt siphons on his clothes flashing, darkness shifted around you and you wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers clutching the back of his hair.

Shadows trailed over your bare arms like a sheet of ice, you shivered trying to get closer to Azriel. You'd never travelled between the planes of darkness, his shadows whirling around you, if you fell you wondered if they would catch you. As if he knew what you were thinking Azriel adjusted his grip on you.

Azriels wings flared, you both dropped suddenly before they stretched and it wasn't till you could feel the dewy mist of clouds, did you realise you were no longer in the shadows. Stars blanketed the sky, you'd never seen so many that your gaze stayed above. Hadn't realised that Azriel had landed till he set you down on your feet. His hand remained on your back, steadying you.

"Welcome to Velaris," Azriel said, smile gracing his lips and you almost felt yourself leaning into him. You couldn't help but mirror his smile.

taglist:@rcarbo1, @st4r-girl-official,@azrielswhore, @cynthiesjmxazrielslover, @shizukestar, @wolfbc97, @thecraziestcrayon

Thanks for all your lovely comments on my previous posts :) There will be more of Azriel in the next parts, hope you enjoy! - Yiiyii

Ps- I love Eris and he’s such a complicated character, so just wait ;)

129 notes · View notes

carolmunson · 1 year ago

Text

in a dark, dark room (kas!eddie) (dark)

inspo from this audio by eyesofsuggestion on reddit.

your boyfriend isn't as he seems. looks like someone else is along for the ride in his earthly vessel, someone you've never met but whose been dying to meet you. tw: 21+ and especially minors dni. this dark fic features dub-con and is not recommended reading for those who are sensitve to dub-con and non-con themes in fanfiction. this fic features: dub-con, blood play, blood drinking, rough p in v sex, choking, name calling, taunting, mocking, light smacking. pretty blatant monster fucking. read at your own risk.

there is just so much blood.

you lay there, limp, feeling the sheets soak beneath you slowly. warm and thick, staining the floral pattern fabric, turning white roses red with little mercy. he leans down a second time, gasping with need, long tongue sliding over the puncture wounds in your jugular before sinking in again. you cry out, pushing at him desperately, making him growl with frustration when his hands come to hold you down by the bends in your arm. talons that have grown sharp and long bite into your skin with the same sting as his teeth.

"please stop," you choke out, haze gathering at the edges of your vision. you feel the rush of blood pull from your neck while he keeps drinking, breaking away to nose at your jaw and cheek. "please stop," he taunts back, tongue laving over you again, "can't stop, sweetheart. not when you taste so good." you try to brace yourself for his third bite down but it doesn't come. his lower lip drags over your skin, slick with slimy drool while his mouth becomes accustomed to the long fangs growing over his lower gums. he takes a sharp inhale, taking another break from his fill, pushing up on his arms where they hold you at the elbows. he smirks down at you, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight pouring into your room. this was not the eddie you were used to. sweet and mild mannered, always letting you take the lead. he bought you flowers on your second date and dinner on your third. soft and gentle in everything he did, warm to the touch. forehead kisses before bed. desperate for you. but not like this. "what's that face for, huh?" he asks, voice a deep husk, vibrating with something else -- something darker, "scared'a me?"

you nod with a whimper, weak with blood loss. you can feel your hot tears leak down into your hairline, over your ears. "m'gonna die ed," you croak out. "hmm," he hums with a tut, shrugging, "maybe. but you'll be alive for what's next." "well, barely," he smiles, teeth gleaming with blood and spit. he lets go of your arms when he knows you can move them, gouges left in their wake when he does. you aren't sure if there's any more blood left to let out. he shifts above you, pulling you to the edge of the bed when he stands over your broken form. what happened? you think. he'd come over like he always had. you made dinner together, watched creepshow, he complained about work, he told you about a show he had coming up. when you went upstairs tonight it wasn't uncommon for you both to fool around. you're used to him clinging to you, holding you, burying his face in your neck. it was when you heard the rattle of his breath and the flap of leathery wings that your eyes flew open to this -- to some monster.

you look at him now as he towers above you. the puncture in your neck pulses, the scratches on your body sting from when he pulled you down and held you in place when you tried to run away. gripping and grabbing to keep you under him until you succumbed, teeth sinking deep into you. "you miss him, huh?" he asks, the blue of his veins showing up under his tattoos in a maze. he parts your thighs, looking down at your naked core hungrily. his dark eyes flick up, catching yours, "you can't lie, i can hear you in there."

you nod again and it aches, stretching the holes over your veins. "aww, poor thing," he pouts, a finger reaching out to trace along your inner thigh. you shiver at the touch, cold and biting, "he misses you, too."

"who are you?" "i'm who he really is, honey," he coos, "your boy's just a cover. you think he came out of that accident without some screws loose?" you whimper when he touches the seam of your thigh, "at least he picks 'em pretty for me." you look down at your body, splashed with your blood and a sheen of sweat.

"if it makes it easier for your dumb little head to understand," he starts, taloned hand reaching out to smack lightly against your cheek, "let's just say i hitched a ride when he got out of hell."

"and baby," he says, suave and sure, "i've been so patient with wanting to get a taste of you. he's been putting up such a fight trying to keep me away."

you fade in and out, feeling him take your thighs in each of his hands to pull your flush to him. they run up over your hips, sliding over the stickiness on your skin.

"whining about how i eat girls like you for breakfast," he snickers and takes a beat, "actually -- he's not wrong. i do do that."

"but you've been on my mind, sweetheart," he nods, letting go with one hand while he reaches for his cock. your mind races when you see it, thicker than the one you're used to -- monstrous almost, "been really needing a toy to play with on this side."

"and you're just so easy, huh?" he says, brows tilting while he mocks you, "he'd do anything for you. can you do this for him? he knows just how you like it -- i can do that, too."

"eddie--" you rasp, arm weakly reaching up to push his hand away while a fingertip drags through your folds.

"please baby, call me kas," he grins with a smarmy flair, "eddie's my host's name."

"what is it, hm?" he asks, catching your gaze in his, "you don't want it?"

you shake your head no, eyes snapping shut when he drags two claws lightly over your cheek, over the tendon in your neck that he hadn't bitten through. they follow down over your collar bone, down your chest, your rib cage, the touch making your back arch up to him when he applies just enough pressure to make it sting.

his giggle is dark and deep seated in his chest, "i can see what you're thinking. you don't wanna like it -- but it looks like you're just beggin' for it, aren't you?"

his hand grips your hip, the tip of his cock sliding from the top of your slit to the bottom with steady guidance. he slides it again against the slick while it builds, body betraying you while arousal overtakes your fear. in the haze it could still be him, it could still be eddie.

"hm, he likes it when you're on top, doesn't he?" kas laughs haughtily, "loves looking up at you. what's he call you, again? oh that's right -- his goddess, his angel." "that's not how it's gonna go tonight, though, is it?" he asks, fat tip of his cock pushing in between your thighs, "no, you're gonna be my pretty whore. gonna be a good 'n' weak, needy toy for me."

"right?"

tears prick your eyes at the stretch of just his tip, unsure of how the rest of him will fit without ripping you apart. his hands come to your thighs, pushing them up against your sticky chest. you nod slowly, the rest of your body on fire with pain from his previous assault.

"m'gonna split you open," he nods, pushing in slowly while your walls stretch to accomodate him. your back arches with whatever strength you have left, whines and whimpers pouring out of your mouth. his claw sink into the fat of your thighs, blood pooling from the divots and dripping down over the meat of your ass.

"hmm," he hums while he pushes in to the base, "he loves this pussy. i can see why."

kas's thrusts start slow, claws digging into your skin with each slick squelch deep inside you. he leans forward, wings spreading behind him while he picks up a steady speed. his gaze is certain, tawny circles around his eyes making it seem like they're deeper set. he touch his cold, skin chilling you while he presses himself along your body.

"oh he let's you choke him out, huh?" he snickers, eddie's memories flicking through his mind like a rolodex, "he let's you tell him what to do? that's cute."

kas's clawed hand reaches up to curl around your throat, thumb narrowly missing the puncture wounds he left behind. with new leverage his pace quickens, "we're gonna fix that about you."

"you're gonna be," he begins, cock unforgiving in it's relentless punches in and out of you, "my pretty little courtesan -- hmm fuck -- you're gonna do what i say, when i say it. sounds nice, doesn't it?"

you whine, reaching for his wrist, weakly pawing at it before it lays limply by your side.

"c'mon -- you don't wanna think anymore, do you?" he coos, "just wanna -- shit, yes -- wanna lay there and be my plaything." he readjusts, pushing one leg up so your knee hooks over his shoulder. the angle hits something in you that makes you desperate for more, a whiny moan pouring from your mouth. "oh there she is," he grins, "yeah, that's what you wanna hear huh? locked up and away so i can have you whenever. use you -- breed you." a needy moan escapes again, your body twitching alive while he pumps into you. your hips roll while he does, energy creeping into your veins, warming your skin. you're not sure how, not with all the blood you've lost -- but if this is what it costs to survive, you'd let him use you like this all night. "oh you nasty fucking bitch," he laughs, breaths huffing against your cheek, "dirty fucking girl, letting me all the way in. that’s what you want, huh? to get pumped full’a me? be a blood machine – hm?" "mmm ed, please more," you rasp out, needy for him to go deeper, harder. his grip tightens over your throat, your tongue lolling out in need for more air, "what's my name?" you choke out something inaudible, haze sliding over your vision again while he glares down at you. the pressure increases, blood leaking out from your jugular while he shoves you into the mattress. "huh?! what's my name?" "k-kas," you push out when he loosens his grip.

"much better, sweetheart," he hums, "much better." he keeps you pinned down tight, cock drilling you into the sticky sheets. his hand creeps from your throat to the back of your head, ripping at your hair to pull you back so you'll face him. he doesn't blink, hard eyes staying on yours while he pummels into you without any signs of relent. he growls and grunts with each roll of your hips to meet his thrusts, almost proud that you're chasing your own pleasure while he takes his. his hard gaze falters when you reach up to run your fingers over his face. the touch is feather light, tracing the edge of his brow bone to the side of his cheek. you know eddie's still in there, you know this is partly him. kas's gaze softens for a moment and you swear eddie is looking back at you. you lean in, aching for a kiss, for something gentle amongst the horrific night you've had so far. "oh no, baby," he whispers, forehead pressing to yours. his ragged breaths mix with the wet squelches of him fucking into you, now as easy as if you've always taken him -- like you're used to his size.

"i don't kiss my toys," he hums, "that’s only for real mates." "and to be honest, sweetheart -- you're too pathetic for that."

your nearly pouty face is delicious to him, the hurt flashing through your mind feeds him as much as your blood has. he ducks down again to lick the dribble from your wounds, his wet tongue slippery over the sweat collecting there while he hovers over you. how can such a cold body make you so warm? "but you're so special to him," he gravels in your ear, "he loves you, doesn't he?"

"y-yeah," you whimper out. "well," he purrs, "that's too bad."

his speed quickens and your breath hitches, his body bends and contorts in a way that's nearly inhuman, fucking deeper and deeper into you with each painful snap of his hips. "you're all mine now," he growls, arm hooking under your waist to lift you up part way. your bottom half floats off the bed with his strength beneath you, so numb with pleasure you can't feel the way his claws dig into you again. you can't feel this teeth sink into your calf while he grinds into you, barely pulling out just to push in again. "m'yours," you squeak out, "m'yours, m'yours, m'yours -- oh god -- fuck, ohmygod fuck -- kas -- KAS." with a sudden burst of energy you reach up while the peak of your orgasm hits like a freight train, tightening hard over his cock. our nails dig into the cold skin of his forearms, over his tattoos, dragging down hard and tight. he sputters and smirks at the stingy pain of your clawing at him, the feeling spurring him on as he fucks you through your writhing release. "just like that," he huffs, droplets of blood flicking from his tongue onto your chest and sternum. his leathery wings tuck in to rest like hooks out of his shoulder baldes while he cages you in against the bed, eyes shut in concentration while he pumps in again, and again. with a final rough tug of your hair you hear and feel his guttural release. the only warmth from him being the sticky seed that he spills inside of you, cold mouth clamping down again on your neck for a final taste before his release comes to a close. you're back to laying limp on the bed. spent. he looks over you, growls and grumbles in his breath, clicking and seething -- this must be his natural state. "well weren't you fun," he grins, sick but sweet, "i'll have to try you again." you whimper, unable to move this time, to think, to breathe. "but i think i you taste better a little scared," he nods, "gotta make sure you forget this so you can struggle like you did tonight. that's -- oh sweetheart, it's just delicious." when your eyes meet his again you can't look away, not that you'd want to -- he's beautiful like this. hair long and brushing his built shoulders, skin so pale it's nearly blue, eyes dark and glittering with angry satisfaction. eddie who? you think. "adorable," he says smugly when he hears it in his head, "don't worry, i'll let that pathetic weakling have you back. he's miserable in here right now." you don't know if it's hyponosis or the exhaustion from losing so much of your blood supply, but sleep comes quickly -- fading out while he holds your gaze, words you don't understand filling your ears and thoughts -- latin maybe? you couldn't guess. you're just so comfortable. so tired. and the bed is so soft, so warm. you have to sleep, right? you've been asleep this whole time.

you wake up in the morning feeling tired, mouth dry and tangy. your joints ache, your stomach rumbles. you look over on your nightstand to two empty bottles of wine, two empty glasses next to them. when you sit up you look down, seeing that half of one of those bottles never made it to your lips -- your stained sheets shine back a purple red in your eyes. with a groan you turn over, sinking back into the covers, feeling the warm body of your boyfriend next to you. his dark curly hair pulled up in a ponytail, splayed across the pillow. the night is hazy: dinner, creepshow, wine, kissing. when you both got upstairs you were tipsy -- you vaguely remember the spill of the wine, the drunk giggles, the way his mouth tasted like aged cabernet. both falling asleep before you could take it any further. he stirs next to you, smiling when he sees you with a rub of his eyes. "morning, angel," he says in a yawn. "morning," you sigh, running a hand over your neck to rub at the muscles there -- aching and tense. "you okay?" he asks, turning over to face you, two fingers tracing over your cheek. "yeah just -- i think i slept weird," you shrug, "i'm definitely hung over." eddie laughs, "me too."

"we didn't -- we didn't fool around last night, right?" you ask, "we both knocked out pretty early." "i remember spilling the wine and then both of us saying we'd deal with it in the morning," he sniffs before stretching out, "and then i think i fell asleep in the wine stain." you giggle, feeling his arms wrap around you. warm body against yours, he kisses you soft on the forehead, "you look pretty." "thank you," your sleepy smile makes him smile back. "you know what i'm in the mood for?" he asks, "such a weird craving but they knock a hangover right out of me." "hm?" "a bloody mary," he says with raised brows, like he's surprised with himself, "i think i got some stuff downstairs to make them." "i'm not really into bloody mary's," you say with a scrunched nose. he offers you another kiss on the forehead before slowly climing out of bed. he shrugs looking down at you, pulling on his abandoned pair of boxers from yesterday, "hm, suit yourself. more for me then." when he snaps the band at his hips, you notice it. even sets of scrapes down his forearms toward his watch, your brow quirks, "hey, what happened to your arm?"

he looks down, and at first you think you catch a flicker of a smile before it turns into a confused frown, "weird...i don't know, sweetheart." he looks at both arms all the way around before turning to look at you, almost coolly, "maybe we did fool around."

#eddie munson #kas!eddie #kas!eddie munson #dark!eddie munsn #dark!eddie #tw: dubcon #tw: dubious consent #eddie musnon x reader #kas!eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #kas!eddie smut #eddie munson x you #stranger things au #stranger things fanfiction

895 notes · View notes