#support divider by cafekitsune

[dollsque]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ❝ ONLY YOU, DARLING, ONLY YOU ❞ 💚

Word Count: 1.2k

Short Summary: All the ways you two say “I love you.”

Notes: Fluff, Hobie Brown x Reader, Y/N used sparingly, no mention of gender, one-shot, sfw

Masterlist Here <3

🏹 ˚₊ · »-♡→ HE DIDN’T SAY THAT HE LOVED YOU, but he did leave out special post-it notes on the windows around the house while patrolling that told you to stay safe, eat well, drink well, get some afternoon beauty sleep, and some silly little quick doodles.

However, even with the loving intent behind it, he does sometimes do this just to ease your mind that he’s okay when he drops off the notes. You’ll be watching TV, window free of a post-it note, then a while later you’ll see a Post-it on it with quick, messy, and unmistakable handwriting (or a quick doodle) with an added timestamp and small handwriting at the bottom that told you he’s alright. He wanted to make sure you didn't have the same stressful, worrisome days he had.

🏹 ˚₊ · »-♡→ YOU DIDN’T SAY THAT YOU LOVED HIM, but you did take care of his wounds after he came home from patrolling no matter how tired you are. No matter how many times he assures you that his super healing will do most of the work, he knows his effort is futile when you��re already opening the med kit and getting ready to get to work with a tired but determined expression as you listen to his daily stories.

You then checked for anything else you missed, any small scratches that would have healed on their own, and some that may have needed a bandaid. After you’re done, you give him lots of kisses and hugs for his hard work, which he gratefully accepts.

🏹 ˚₊ · »-♡→ HE DIDN’T SAY THAT HE LOVED YOU, but he did make some room on his beloved guitar for your signature and adorable chibi drawings that you somehow turned into stickers. Any small little gifts you made like some bracelets, he wore like a champ. He owns that shit.

All the handmade little cards you’ve made for a holiday like Valentine’s Day, Thanksgiving, or Christmas, all the birthday cards, and all the cards you made are in a very special box with a bow on it. He secretly reads them all every night when you’re asleep, and some of them date back to when you guys first truly became best friends.

🏹 ˚₊ · »-♡→ YOU DIDN’T SAY THAT YOU LOVED HIM, but you did spend some time repairing his suit when sometimes he was simply too tired to do it. You knew that being Spider-Man was hard. You didn’t want him to do it all alone. You knew you couldn’t help much, but you knew that even the simplest of things like repairing the tears and scratches in his suit, washing it, and making sure that it would be good as new the next time he needed it, was good enough for you.

His huge smile, happiness, appreciation, and the way he flickered between the colors purple, pink, and yellow, were always worth it. All the hugs and kisses you received, and how he told you he’d make it up to you somehow, told you that you had done your part and that you did it amazingly, and that was enough for you.

🏹 ˚₊ · »-♡→ HE DIDN’T SAY THAT HE LOVED YOU, but he did try and get into your interests and hobbies, like reading books for example, so he could bond with you over more things. Once you finished a book, he’d pick that same book up and read it so that he could talk to you about it. He would even get upset when he was in the middle of reading, his spider senses would go off, meaning he had to continue later.

He would always enjoy the way your eyes lit up when he started talking about the book you had recently read. You two would share your opinions, some even clashing sometimes, but it still was enjoyable and an amazing bonding moment. Sometimes, he’d even go to the library and pick out two books that he’d think you’d enjoy. He’d pick out a book for himself to hide the fact that he went solely for you.

🏹 ˚₊ · »-♡→ YOU DIDN’T SAY THAT YOU LOVED HIM, but you did decide to bake him some treats and pastries like cookies or little cupcakes to share with him just because. You think you both deserve it after long days, and you would like to cheer him up. You loved seeing the animated eyes of his Spider-Man mask squint in happiness and delight as he turned yellow at the smell. Yellow for happiness, you knew.

Paper pastries would float about around him for just a split second as he ate them with you before they disappeared, but you swore that one day you’d touch one of the floaty-thingies (as you called them) one of these days to seriously see if they were actually paper or if they were even grabbable in the first place. But for now, seeing him happily eat the pastries while complimenting the hell out of your baking skills was enough to make the both of you happy.

🏹 ˚₊ · »-♡→ HE DIDN’T SAY THAT HE LOVED YOU, but he did pay attention to the things you said you liked in your many conversations with him. He particularly paid attention to the part where you said you adored the lily of the valley flowers. He immediately went into action the next day, researching the hell out of those flowers. Once he finds out that they’re poisonous, he moves on to plan B: paper lily of the valley flowers.

Two days after that conversation he surprised you with his handmade lily of the valley flowers, which looked close enough to the real ones. He explained that he didn’t want you getting poisoned to death over pretty ass flowers, so he made them for you instead.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that as long as you didn’t eat them and wore gloves, you’d be fine, but honestly? Those were way more fucking precious than receiving the real thing from him, just because of the extra love and care that went into them. You showered him with hugs, and kisses, while he received them with a goofy, lovesick grin (and yes, he did turn pink with the little floaty-thingy hearts, but you were too busy showering him with physical affection to remember your little mission).

🏹 ˚₊ · »-♡→ YOU DIDN’T SAY THAT YOU LOVED HIM, but you did try to shower him with affection whenever you could. You wanted to be the one to make the move to hold his hand. You wanted to be the one to give him a big hug. You wanted to be the one to initiate the cuddles on the couch as you two watched a movie. You wanted to hold his pinky with yours every chance you got. You wanted to initiate the sweet little kisses that you often stole from him.

You wanted to make him feel like he was the most loved boyfriend on the fucking planet. He already did that for you, making you feel like the most valued partner on the planet, so now it was your turn, and you planned on making him feel that every time you showed him physical affection.

🏹 ˚₊ · »-♡→ BUT WAIT A MINUTE—YOU HAVE BEEN SAYING THAT YOU LOVE EACH OTHER THIS WHOLE TIME! It’s just that actions speak louder than words, and you both were able to feel it during all those moments, even while apart. Your love could never be broken, for it’s equally as strong whether you two decide to say it, or whether you two decide to show more than tell.

© 2024 dollsque - all rights reserved; do not copy my works, repost my content, edit my works, or translate my works on tumblr or anywhere else. it is strictly forbidden. oh, and no AI shit with my works, please.

[bratbby333]

nsfw 𓆩⟡𓆪 mdni !!

dating toji feels like an 808 bass drum pounding in your chest...

...and his thick cock feels the exact same way as it ruins your pretty little pussy

cw: fem!reader, public sex, p in v, rough sex, pet names (doll, pretty girl)

he's over protective and territorial, his brooding jealousy and tight grip on your waist shoots pangs of arousal through you whenever the two of you go out. blood rushes to your eardrums, the rhythmic thump mimicking the pulse in your core.

he loves making it known that you’re his. he’s like your own personal bodyguard, scowling at anyone in the bar who dares to let their eyes linger too long on his pretty girl.

you attempt to ignore the gnawing ache in your core, but god does he make it hard. he doesn’t even have to do much either—he’s practically trained your body to respond to him regardless of what he’s doing.

he voices how pretty you are in a raspy whisper against your neck, nipping at the skin behind your ear. his large hand cups the small of your back, grips your hip tight— honestly whatever he can get his hands on. his fingers run up and down your thigh, digging his fingers into the squishy flesh, a bruising reminder of who you belong to. if you’re feeling real bold, sometimes you try and rile him up on purpose just to get a good, nasty fuck outta him.

and you always succeed.

your plan is set in motion when he gets up from the table to grab another round of drinks, shamelessly allowing some drunkard to flirt with you.

silly, silly girl. oh, you've done it now.

toji's a multifaceted lover; nice n slow sometimes, brutal and mean the next. a jack of all trades. you never really know what you're gonna get—which is why you're eyes are blown wide, your breath stuck in your throat while he has you pushed against the sink in the bathroom, fucking himself deep into you.

to be fair, this is the outcome you wanted, but you didn't expect it here. you know just the right way to push his buttons.

he wraps his fist around your throat, squeezing your sensitive skin so tightly, his hips meeting your ass with every unforgiving stroke.

he's just so thick, you'd think you'd be used to it by now, but it's like you're taking him for the first time all over again. but god, you just cannot get enough of the way he stretches you...the sweet burn of his girth coupled with the fat head of his cock that seems to brush into your g spot without failure...your gushy walls swallowing him whole, the squelching sounds ringing through the bathroom, bouncing off the linoleum walls.

he just knows his pretty girl too well. his hips snapping over and over and over, driving himself so fucking deep. his veins rubbing against the pillowy walls of your pussy. the pretty whines that can't help but escape your lips.

poor thing, you're trying so hard to keep quiet, but he's fucking you so hard and he's so deep, you can't help but cry out for him.

his fist wraps around your hair, pulling your head up. "look at you," he'd coo, his voice raspy, "so pretty while yer takin' my cock," his pace is unyielding, and his eyes bore into yours with every push.

your sinful ahh's and ooo's and oh fuck's are silenced by a firm hand over your mouth. "keep quiet, pretty girl. don't wanna get caught now do we?" your head shakes, your tummy churning with pleasure as he pounds into you.

maybe if he wasn't fucking you so hard you'd be able to keep it down. he's so smug, so teasing. his eyes dare you to make another sound, his cock taunting you to cry out once more. "you gonna cum?" you whine into his hand as sweet tears brim behind your eyes, your head bouncing up and down in confirmation.

"that's it, c'mon...be good f'me." his words send chills down your body as his fingers draw quick circles into your clit. the tightness in your core finally snaps as you choke on your moans, your orgasm clawing its way through you. his follows soon after, unable to resist the delicious clenching and spasming of your walls as you milk his load from his heavy balls. his thick seed coats your insides, a mixture of both your cum dribbling out around his cock and trickling down your thighs.

he quickly pulls out and slides your panties back up, a dark spot appearing immediately from the fluids that are spilling from you. your thighs tremble and knees buckle as you work to regain your breath. he chuckles at the sight, "yer okay, did s'good."

he stares at your reflection in the mirror as he tucks himself back into his jeans, a look of accomplishment and a cocky smirk pulling at his cheeks at the thought you walking around full of him, a sticky reminder of you really belong to.

"c'mon, doll, let's get back out there."

[taintedpearls]

❀*ੈ˖°.𖥔 ݁ casual (part ii) — daily click

summary: you haven't spoken to ellie in a week, 43 missed calls and 125 texts from her, none of which you've answered, but ellie doesn't give up so easily.

cw: smut, mdni, intimate sex, the knee thing (e!receiving), shower sex, fingering (r!receiving), switch!ellie and reader, multiple orgasms, nipple play/sucking, fluffy, reader lives in an apartment, ellie is very apologetic. wc: 2.9k

a/n: this was meant to be like 1.6k words so idk how we got to 35 words away from 3k but... enjoy! part one is here

(1:02am) ellie

please let me explain

(1:06am) ellie

cmon please i promise it'll be worth your while

(1:07am) ellie

i have your bra among other things. let me know when you'd like me to drop them off. i'm sorry.

(1:09am) you

guess who texted again

(1:09am) olive

no way

r u gonna reply?

(1:10am) you

absolutely not

i made a fool of myself

(1:11am) olive

maybe and JUST MAYBE

reply to her and get ur closure + super sexy bra back

(1:12am) you

what the fuck olive

do you want me to die? genuine question

(1:12am) olive

LISTEN

it might help

plus she seems genuinely apologetic

why is she even apologising?

(1:14am) you

for being a dick and wanting a quick hookup?

(1:14am) olive

because she has feelings and she knows she fucked up?

(1:15am) you

😐 bye

(1:15am) olive

just reply! say sometime tmrw. it can be easy, a quick in nd out

okay?

(1:16am) you

i'll think about it

(2:03am) you

11:30, you get two minutes

(2:03am) ellie

thank you so much

(2:03am) ellie

i'll be there

nine hours later, and ellie was a mess.

you had given her permission to come over and return your bra – hell you had her jumping for fucking joy when she saw that message.

but now she had to actually talk to you, and what the hell was she supposed to say? that she was sorry? that she 'couldn't sort out her feelings?' all of which felt wrong (maybe they only felt wrong because she was staring at herself in the mirror while repeating them for three hours... who knows).

but ellie had found herself with a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand and a plan.

a plan to win you back.

she was going to apologize, let you scream at her, and hopefully let her explain, all in the two minutes you had gratefully gifted her.

so, when she rang the doorbell to your apartment after hiking the six story stairs, she found herself staring at her old, beaten up converse. stars and hearts you had drawn all along the sides of the soles almost mocked her.

then you opened the door, and ellie couldn't look up.

useless apologies started spilling from her mouth, panicked words that meant nothing. a collection of "i'm sorry” s and a series of "please let me explain" came pouring out, that was until she grew the gall to look up at you and take you in.

her heart stopped when she did, so did her words.

you looked tired. clearly old yet comfortable clothes adorned your body, you had your arms over your stomach but they weren't crossed, you weren't mad, you could never be mad at ellie, no matter how badly you wanted to be especially in this moment.

words rushed through her head but never made it out her mouth, you were... exhausted. and she caused it, she caused all this pain you were going through. 

“oh…” she softly whispered, her stance faltering at the sight of you, not because you looked like how you did but because she was so mad at herself.

you sigh, you had made no effort to adjust your appearance or put makeup on. you told yourself it was because you had no energy to, but in reality, you wanted to show ellie how you were hurting, that she had caused this, that something fun and sweet had gone sour and at your own expense. 

“ellie, i know i look….” you remove your arms from your stomach and signal to yourself shamefully, tears almost springing from your sunken eyes at the regret you feel for not even trying to fix yourself up, “ but can i please just have my bra back?” you’ve changed your position once again so that you’re leaning up against the doorframe of your apartment, gray sleeves up by your knuckles. 

“no! no no no not at all you look… pretty. really pretty.” she breathes out hurriedly, your cheeks heat up before you spot the bouquet, and that's what makes the tears spill. because why was she here? she had never described you as pretty before, only hot or sexy, so why is she here apologising and calling you pretty if she doesnt just want a quick fuck by validating you? 

tears now evidently filled your eyes, ellie’s kind smile had now turned into one of worry and concern when she saw the tears threatening to spill from your tired eyes, moving forward to embrace you, but she hesitated. will it only make things worse for you? feeling her again? 

“can- can i touch you?” she asks gently, nerves shaking at the chance of you pushing her away for good, telling her she can keep the bra and slamming the door shut in her face. 

instead, you silently shake your head yes and grant her permission to embrace you, it was a stupid idea, really, because everything you felt, all the times she had touched you that you had so desperately been trying to shut out came flooding back and it took everything in you not to sob, the subtle stream of tears gliding down your cheeks was worse enough. you avoided her sorrowful eyes, you didn't want her to feel sorry for you, you just wanted her. 

ellie lets go of you, she’s still standing at the doorway, converse planted firmly on your ‘welcome!’ doormat, she delicately reaches to hold your cheeks and force your wandering eyes to look into her own, staring for a second, memorizing your face just in case before looping an arm around your shoulders and guiding you inside, closing the door behind the two of you with her foot, not looking back once. 

you can feel the flowers gently brush against your shoulder as she never put them in her other hand, but the feeling of them is oddly comforting. you're not sure why exactly it’s comforting, but you do however manage to notice they're your favorite. 

ellie guides you over to a kitchen counter, sitting you up on it and standing right in between your open spread legs, placing the array of flowers opposite to the two of you. you bury your head in your hands, wanting to disappear from this moment and never return. 

“hey…” she gently prys your hands away from your head, and you immediately look up to contain tears, trying your hardest nor to hit the cabinets. “i'm sorry for just welcoming myself in, i assumed you didn't want the neighbors to see you…” the auburn haired girl uneasily babbles, and the tears slow down. you sniffle, looking down at the girl who can’t seem to slow her fast paced talking, and you're not sure how to quiet her down other than placing a hand over her mouth. 

instantly, the talking stops as she looks up at you confused, you sniffle once more and she grabs your hand again to remove it from her mouth 

“you were talking a lot,” you whisper “its okay that you came in, ellie.” your voice is silky, addicting. 

“i just-” she sighs, anxiously tapping the space outside your thighs and staring at her own hands “i don’t know how i can express just how sorry i am, i fucked up. Bad. and your hurting because of it” she spills, shes not even sure if it made sense as it left her mouth, but it’s honest. 

“ellie… it was always more than just a casual thing to me,” you admit, voice getting shallower by the second “and i mean, i don’t know, i always just assumed if i kept saying i was fine with it you would realize that i was who you wanted, but now i know it isn’t true.” ellie’s face drops upon hearing your words, alarms blare in her head because of course it was never just casual to her as well, she’s not even sure why she suggested it in the first place or kept reinforcing it when she wanted everything but that. 

“i know,” she starts off with, you look down sadly, this was confirmation she didn't want to see you anymore, that you getting attached had ruined everything and there was no saving whatever you two had. “but,” she continues, you look up at her again, confused. “It was never just casual to me as well, you know? i’m not even sure why i suggested it in the first place.” she lets out a brief chuckle at the last part in hopes of clearing some of the tension around you guys. 

“but you-” 

“i know i always reminded you, i think it was because i was scared? i was so… infatuated with you and i guess i didn’t want to hurt you. i thought it was the only way.” she remorsefully confesses, and you smile, roles reversed as you gracefully grab her face and kiss her. a kiss that says everything. 

it's soft, gentle, show’s no urgency or panic. it’s natural, and ellie can feel you smiling into it, as is she. 

gently, she moves away and starts kissing down your neck, you lock your hands into her auburn and let out a sigh of content. 

“ellie…” you needily whisper. 

“yeah, baby?” she removes her mouth from your neck, grabbing your thighs and looking into your eyes. “this okay?”

“more than okay,” you confirm, “do you wanna shower with me?” your request is simple, but it makes ellie’s heart explode with excitement as she lifts you off the counter and begins to carry you over to the very familiar shower, the short walk is full of quick kisses and giggles bouncing off the walls when you finally arrive and she nearly stumbles over her own feet. 

you're quick to discard your own clothes, the anticipation building to feel ellie’s skin on your own, the girls anticipation matching yours as she hastily removes her own clothing. Flowers and bra forgotten in the kitchen when she pulls your body into the shower with her, capturing you into a needy kiss once more. she reaches behind you to turn the water on, not accounting for the fact it'll take a minute to warm up and allowing the freezing stream to harshly hit your back. you yelp, moving away quickly in shock, hearing ellie’s restrained snort from behind you. turning to face her, you slap her bicep playfully when the water begins to feel warmer 

“ellie!” you playfully scold, “that wasn't funny!” you’re trying to be serious, key word: trying, but you cant help to let your own laugh slip past your mouth as you join her in the fun. 

“‘m sorry!” she giggles, the laughter between you two dying down “i didn't think it would be that cold!” 

“yeah, well, obviously!” you attempt to splash her with the little bit of remaining cold water on your hands, but you're not quick enough. she pins your hands above your head against the wall adjacent to the stream of water, the glass becoming foggy with steam from the nearly boiling water. 

silence falls in between the two of you. no words are spoken as you move forwards wanting a kiss from the girl, but she moves back. deja vu spikes within you from that night at the bar, days before everything went down. 

she closes her eyes, leaning closer and pressing her forehead up against yours. You repeat the action, you weren't sure what she was doing, but you trusted her. 

“let’s take this slow, okay?” she utters softly, just loud enough so you could hear her over the sound of water pouring, you nod instantly. slow was good. slow meant effort.

with your agreement, she locks your lips into a kiss once again. it wasn't hasty or rough, it was soothing and steady, releasing your arms in order for her to move her own to rest on your hips, your own reaching towards her neck. 

the kiss continuous for a couple minutes, only letting go for a couple seconds at a time to catch your breaths before falling back into each other peacefully, but you were getting wetter and wetter, desperate for more than just kitten kisses on your neck, and you could tell ellie was getting wet too with her movements becoming more and more desperate and rough. 

discreetly, you slot your knee in between her legs while she's occupied with your neck. Almost immediately you can feel the grip she has on your hips become tighter, fingernails digging into the flesh as you slowly begin to move your knee, she groans, dropping her head into your shoulder, moving her hips to match the rhythm with your knee. 

“faster, please” she whimpers in your neck, busying herself again by leaving wet open mouthed kisses on your neck once more. who were you to deny such a pretty girl's request? you speed up the movement of your knee, nudging it up every now and again, removing a hand from her neck to reach down and slowly rub her clit. 

from the way she sucked harder on that spot just below your ear she knew you loved, you assumed the sensation was taken well, your own wetness starting to drip down your thighs, mixing with the water from the muffled noises she was making alone. eventually, the stimulation caught up to her, legs becoming shaky, speeding up your movements and circling her clit, forcefully removing her mouth from your neck so you could bring your head down and suck on her left nipple, and that was her tipping point. 

ellie came undone on your leg with a strangled shout of your name, legs shaking and thighs hurting as you slowed down the circles on her now sensitive nub before eventually stopping, removing the knee slotted between her legs as well as your mouth from her tit. 

“you okay?” you whisper, giving her a couple seconds to come down from her high, the water providing a warm comfort over the two of you. 

“yeah,” she breathes, coming up to give you a kiss on the lips, again, and again, making a wet noise each time, only further fueling your need for her. “more than okay, thank you.”

you smile at her, happy that she was satisfied with your work. you clench your thighs together in hopes to relieve some of the tension that had built up in your core, a move that did not go unnoticed by the dripping girl in front of you. 

“but now i think i need to take care of you, hm? would you like that?” you quickly nod your head yes, anxious to feel her touch on you once more. 

she doesn't wait to get to work on your body, lips going down to suck one of your boobs while her hand moves to roll the sensitive bud in between her fingers, almost instantly eliciting a moan from you.

quietly, she moves her hand that was previously rolling your nipple down your wet body to your core. you open your legs, she keeps her mouth on your boob, but teasing your folds as she ran her fingers through them and pinching your clit ever so slightly, causing you to squel. 

“ellie.. please…” you almost beg, desperate to feel her skilled fingers inside you already.

she presses her palm flat against your clit, ignoring your begs but making you jerk back into the ceramic wall as a small whimper falls from your mouth, ellie smirks knowing just how much of an effect she had on you. she wasn't leaving you ever again. 

lazily, she slips her middle finger into your hole, removing her mouth from your tit. the shower and your own slick providing enough lube that she didn't even have to prod at it. 

“jesus babe… you're so tight” you clench around her finger at these words, and she mindlessly adds a second one. your hands move from her neck to the steaming glass beside you, indenting your handprint through the fog as you lose control over your own body's movements. 

gradually, she begins pumping her fingers in and out of your sopping cunt, lewd and shameless moans leaving your mouth at an uncontrollable pace. she moves her thumb to your clit, pushing into it and causing as much pressure as possible, and it's not long before you cum with a yell of her name, babbling nonsense as she guides you through it. head in her neck as is hers in yours. 

“‘m so sorry” ellie continuously repeats as her fingers still work at a relentless pace inside you “i'm so so sorry, ill never do that to you again.” she moves up and bites your earlobe, continuing to pilot you through your orgasm before halting her movements completely and removing herself from your body. 

you lean back against the wall, eyes closed in content as you feel the droplets of water hit your skin, your water bill is gonna be so fucking high this month, all ellie does it look at you. admiring you in this post fucked out state. you reach your hand out, a silent request for her to take it and she does, right after turning off the stream for you. 

“that was… amazing.” you breathe out happily, she beams at the peaceful look on your face as you peel your eyes open, ellie's smile making you crack your own. 

“i'm glad,” she kisses you once more, the two of you smiling into it. 

“we’re okay?” she asks 

“we’re okay.” you confirm, and ellie has never been happier 

“how about we continue this in the bedroom?” ellie suggests, and you grab her instantly to lead her out. 

people who asked to be tagged: @a-little-bit-of-everybody ! @lmaoo-spiderman @macaroni676 @p4ison1vy @fatbootymuncher @elliessweetheart

[catscidr]

˖ ࣪⊹ ౨ৎ 𝐤!𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟏: 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐤!𝐧𝐤 // — 𝐟𝐭. 𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫!𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐮/𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐳𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢.

i. note — OFF TO A ROUGH START the kenny/geto fic ended up being a whopping 4,5k so i edited it down to be roughly 2k (the full ver is gonna be on ao3 though!) so if the writing seems funky That's Why + im still not completely used to writing smut yet. similar thing kinda happened w zhongli but i went fuck it we ball so im sry if the smut feels short bare with me. im stressed. ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) anyways pls enjoy and happy kinktober lads ii. includes — amab!kenjaku (geto's appearance), zhongli. afab!reader iii. cw — kinda mean dom!kenjaku, he's referred to as suguru for Reasons, dubcon bc power dynamics, manipulation, teasing, fingering, dirty talk, one singular cl!t slap, praise and degradation, he's a yapper. -> can very well be read as a mean!suguru/reader if u choose to ignore that one line about his forehead lol — soft dom!zhongli, hu tao cameo, praise, fingering, some whimpering, piv, implied multiple orgasms, a lil breathplay, he nuts dubiously fast, implied round 2 iv. wc — 4,3k -> ao3 link for the full kenjaku fic here!

— 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐆./𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐮.

“So, according to your medical records, you’ve never had a pap smear. Is that correct?” 

Your blood runs cold. Shit, I didn’t think he would bring THAT up during a normal, unassuming routine checkup. I’m so fucked. 

“Ah, um... no, I haven’t,” you respond sheepishly, clenching your teeth so hard you wonder if he can tell just how hard you’re trying not to bolt out of the door. 

If he wasn’t a medical professional, Suguru would have made a fine actor; and so, as all normal doctors do, he belts you with numerous questions you loathe answering, one of them being the infamous; 

“Are you sexually active?” 

Swallowing down the urge to flee the scene, away from those stupid fluorescent lights and that irritating cleaning solution smell, you answer as normally as you possibly can. “I have been, but-” 

“Have you been made aware that all female bodies that have been sexually active should get a pap smear as soon as they turn 21?” he adds, jotting something down in his notes—your personal file, you assume. 

You gulp, internally thinking of excuses to worm into the conversation. “I have, yes. But Doctor Ieiri told m-” 

“I’m sorry, but I am not Doctor Ieiri. I want the best for my patients, even if some procedures can be uncomfortable. That’s just the way life is; but I’ll do my best to accommodate your needs.” Suguru gives you a patient smile and a nod, though he was firm and, honestly, quite stubborn. 

Relenting, you murmur a quiet ‘okay’, already justifying this, telling yourself that it could be worse. You could be getting a pap smear from an old man that still believe women shouldn’t be allowed ibuprofen when getting an IUD inserted. 

“Great! Then please take off your pants and underwear. I’ll step out to give you some privacy.” Suguru flashes you an award-winning smile as he leaves the vicinity, drawing back the light curtain that separated his actual office to the examination room. 

All blood drains from your being as you listen to the sound of his footsteps fading, and instead you’re met with heavy, oppressive silence. 

... 

You knew getting a pap smear would be uncomfortable, that much was a given, but you didn’t think it would be near as humiliating as this. Doctors witness people both inside AND out, day and night; so pray tell, why were you sweating bullets at the prospect of your doctor doing his job? Was it because he was infuriatingly attractive and the thought of someone like him performing your pap smear was enough to get your blood rushing south? 

(Obviously.) 

“You’re doing great,” he coos encouragingly. “Do you need a moment?” 

You blink away the tears that glossed your eyes, and nod sheepishly. He flashes you a smile and gently pulls out the speculum. You wince, but the sting wears off quickly. As a silent apology, he slides the hand that rested on your stomach down until it reaches your pelvis and applies slight pressure. 

“Deep breaths.” 

You inhale slowly, eyes fluttering shut. Right when you started to feel calmer, you jolt; his thumb brushes against your clit, a movement that seemed too calculated to be an accident. Your eyes snap open and as you look down, you’re met with his eyes piercing into yours as he continuously rubs you, almost casually. 

“W-Wha-” 

He shushes you by pressing his thumb down firmly, earning himself a nice, breathy whimper. 

“You need to relax. Let me take care of you,” he murmurs, lips curling upwards. 

Your eyes zero in on the way his thumb smears your slick all over your clit— and his hand. You’re so wet that you can hear your pleasure, squelching noises violating your ears with the repetitive movements of his thumb, and you feel the coil inside of you tighten in tandem with his fingers. Tighter and tighter, aggressively shoving you towards your rapidly incoming climax. 

And God the latex of his glove rubs against your skin so deliciously. Your hips roll up to meet his hand for more stimulation you don’t even think you can handle. You’re so lost in the pleasure he’s giving you that you don’t even notice how desperate you look until he laughs, the noise sounding so incredibly sweet in your ears despite your humiliating predicament. 

Straightening his back, Suguru breaks eye contact to peer down at your slick cunt. “You’re dripping so much it’s getting on the table. Did you even notice you were this aroused, or were you too focused on drilling holes into me to realize it?” He scoffs, decidedly amused at the sight of your pussy clenching around nothing while he continues to stimulate your needy clit. 

You want to deny his (correct) assumptions, to pull away and leave this damn building until further notice, but God was he skilled with his hands. His fingers were dangerous, lethal even. 

“I’m n-” 

Your breath hitches when he smacks your clit, his sharp brows furrowing as he sneers at you and your blissful expression betraying what you wished to say. It shouldn’t, but the sight turns you on in a way you’d never say without squirming in shame. “Don’t lie to me now. How long have you been wet for?” 

Shaking your head, you purse your lips in a tight line, ashamed to admit that you had been ever since he first started the examination. 

Scoffing, he stands up, towering over you from between your legs. He leans over you, cupping your face as he forces his thumb past your lips, making you taste yourself and the polymer fabric of the glove on his thumb. 

“You didn’t think I’d notice? You started fidgeting quite a lot once I started the checkup. Was it the proximity? Do you find me so attractive you forget how to act normally?” he gloats, pushing his thumb down onto your tongue. Looking up at him through dewy eyelashes, you swallow the saliva that pools in your mouth.

He grins, lowering his face closer to yours; some strands of his hair come undone from the bun, and you feel drawn to his gaze. You can’t look away—neither figuratively or literally. You stare into his eyes, drinking in the sight of his picturesque features, and that painful-looking but intriguing scar running across his forehead. 

(You’re not sure you would look away even if you had a choice, anyways.) 

“Do you have a fetish for doctors or something? How filthy,” he croons. “Or is it my gloves? Do you like feeling my hands prodding at your cunt? And here I was, trying to be useful.” When you whimper around the thumb in your mouth, he knows he’s guessed correctly. 

(He’s so pretty. Vague images of him—his hands—appear in your mind. You want him to pin your wrists together while he fingerfucks you, you want him to wrap a hand around your throat while he scissors you open, you want—) 

He uses his free hand to glide it between your legs and slides his fingers up and down your slit to collect your juices. It drips down his fingers, past the polymer of his glove down to the porcelain skin beneath it. “I bet there isn’t going to be any resistance when I slide my fingers in,” he pulls out his thumb from your mouth and smears your saliva on your lips, then cups your cheeks with said hand. “Want to find out?” 

You gasp when he pushes his ring and middle fingers inside simultaneously as your walls flutter so nicely around them—with the dexterity of, well, a doctor, he quickly finds that spongy spot inside of you and abuses it until you’re a writhing, squirmy mess. 

Moans slip freely from your tender lips, a cacophony of wet slaps and ‘ah! ah!’’s echo in the room while Suguru drinks in the sight of your body submitting up to him. 

“There you go, wasn’t this worth putting your trust in me?” he uses the opportunity to slip two fingers inside of your mouth with the hand that held your face, muffling your slutty moans. “Aren’t you glad you let me do your pap smear? Aren’t you glad I could tell how badly you wanted this?” 

A choked whimper rips through you when he begins to use his thumb to rub your clit at the same time as he bullies his fingers in your wet pussy. His lips stretch into a sinister grin as he watches you struggle to catch your breath; you were so overwhelmed your head spun, oxygen failing you. 

You latch your hands around his forearm and wrist as you try to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure; though your attempts are in vain. “P-Please! I can-can't take much... more...!” you manage to choke out. 

He laughs, his own breathing becoming shallower and shallower the more he pushes you near the edge of your orgasm. “I don’t care, I’ll make you take it if I have to. Come on, you can be good for me, can’t you?” 

You drool around the fingers he kept in your mouth as tears threaten to slide down your cheeks, overwhelmed with how much he kept rubbing you from the inside and out. Cracking your eyes open, you take a peek at the mess between your legs, and immediately clench around him when you catch but a glimpse of the mix of dried and wet slick on his blue glove. 

He notices and slows down the rhythm of his fingers thrusting inside you, letting you catch your breath for a moment. “So filthy,” he hums condescendingly. “Since you love my hands so much, you won’t mind cleaning them off, right?” 

Your poor, fucked-out brain doesn’t have the time to process what he meant before you whine at the loss of his thick fingers inside your cunt and then are immediately met with those same fingers thrust past your lips, making you gag around them. The tangy taste of your juices hits your tastebuds as you wrap your tongue around them, dutifully doing as he asked. 

His sharp eyes meet your own cloudy ones, seemingly satisfied. “Good girl,” he coos. “Who would have known that someone like you would get off to sucking off a glove.” You whine, holding onto his free hand to bring it between your legs, batting your eyelashes up at him needily.  

“Hm? Does my filthy little patient want to cum?” You shudder as he drags his fingers up and down your cunt, collecting your slick to flick your clit. You choke around the fingers in your mouth, whining, almost crying, and your eyelids flutter shut, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you finally surrender yourself to him. 

“Of course she does.” He plunges three fingers inside your cunt, bullying them in and out over and over and over until you can’t even lick and suck on his fingers anymore. You’re too busy letting out loud moans as he abuses your sweet spot endlessly; long forgotten are the worries that plagued your mind earlier. All you could think of was Suguru, Suguru, Suguru. 

A shudder runs down his spine as he watches you writhe in pleasure, and for a moment he imagines just how much worse you would look if he had teased your tits or kissed you until you couldn’t breathe. If the tip of his cock kissed your g-spot instead of his fingers. 

(Maybe he should bribe the secretary and make her schedule your next doctor’s visit with him instead of Ieiri.) 

“That’s it, come on. Cum on my fingers.” Your lips wrap around the fingers in your mouth, teeth grazing them just barely as you try to contain your moans.  

Unable to contain yourself any longer, you clench around his gloved fingers as he continuously rubs up into your sweet spot. The coil in your abdomen snaps; slick gushes out of you, forming a thin sheen on his fingers. 

“F-Fuck—!” With trembling thighs, you gush and moan; Suguru pulls his hand away from your face, cooing sweet nothing into your ears that your brain can’t even process while thrusting his digits into you at a slower pace to drag out your orgasm. After almost wringing his fingers dry with how hard you came, you lay numb on the examination bed, chest heaving while you try to catch your breath and come to your senses. 

Your eyelids flutter open just in time to watch your doctor lick his gloved fingers clean, humming as he tastes your juices. “Sweet,” he hums, never breaking eye contact with you. “Here, since you loved them so much.” With swift movements, he tosses his gloves on your chest, grinning at your astonished expression. 

“Well, nothing’s wrong with you,” he says as he stands tall, rolling his shoulders to lessen the strain from being hunched over you for a solid ten minutes. When you respond with nothing but a quiet, blissed-out ‘huh’ he scoffs, decidedly amused. 

He clarifies, voice light and casual. “The pap smear. Nothing abnormal in there.” 

Feeling your face heat up, you’re unsure if you should curse out or thank Doctor Ieiri for taking a vacation at the same time you needed to schedule your annual checkup.

— 𝐙𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢.

You don’t know what you’ve done in your past life for Celestia to reward you with the most caring, loving boyfriend in the world but you’re not complaining—not one bit. 

Even something as banal as waking up next to him is a blessing in it of itself; watching his hair drape over bare shoulders, locks shimmering like a river of gold beneath the sun’s rays peeking through your curtains—you could die happy if it meant dying at his side. 

You get to admire him when he goes through his—your morning routine. Brushing your teeth together, cooking and then eating breakfast together, basking in the lively sounds of the city beneath your patio as you engage in easy, comfortable conversation with none other than Rex Lapis while you eat. 

The one thing you’re certain you would never tire of—not that you’d get tired of anything when it came to him either way—is watching him get dressed. 

There’s something so comforting and entirely domestic when it comes to helping your lover slip out of his pajamas and into his day clothes. Kisses are a common form of currency between you two, exchanged gingerly when you hand him an article of clothing. He never fails to make you feel loved, and you bask in the affection like a cat sprawled out beneath a window on a sunny afternoon. 

Though, one sure-fire way to obliterate the cozy atmosphere within your flat is, you’ve recently discovered, to stare at Zhongli just a liiittle bit too hard when he gets dressed. 

Specifically, his arms and hands. 

Strong, scarred biceps that used to reshape the mountains of Liyue leading to elegant, lithe fingers. Sleeves that hide intricate, delicate black and grey markings on his arms that fade into a rich golden yellow, adorned with veins of the same color that make him look even more expensive than he already does. 

But when he adds the finishing touch and slips on those pretty gloves with his rings? 

It’s like you just defy all normal bodily functions and start ovulating even if you’re nowhere near that part of your cycle. 

“Dearest? You’ve been zoning out a lot lately, is everything alright?” 

...Though, of course, Zhongli hasn’t been up to date with your newly raging hormones because how are you supposed to tell him you can’t help popping a metaphorical boner every time he puts his gloves on.

“You’re fi—I mean, I’m fine! Yes. Everything’s okay!” 

He is the concept of temptation itself. You’re certain that if you had a dick, you would have passed out cold on the floor from your blood rushing down to your hard-on every time you merely lay eyes on his beautiful self.

And it’s gotten even worse these last couple of days; all because he cupped your cheek one morning before he left for the funeral parlor, and left a salacious kiss on your lips that left more than just your usual desire brewing in your abdomen. The material of his gloves left your skin feeling pleasantly tingly for a reason you couldn’t explain.

….Those stupid gloves.

“I can tell something’s bothering you.” Long legs stride over the bed as he closes the distance between you two. “What’s wrong?” 

He’s half-dressed, with his tie slung around his nape and both his vest and tailored coat lying flat on your shared bed, next to where you sat. You sheepishly avoid eye-contact; with how perceptive he is, you wouldn’t be surprised if he hit you with a nonchalant ‘hey babe are you turned on because of my hands and gloves?’ 

No.

Yes.

“It’s nothing,” you hum. “You should finish getting dressed, don’t you have a meeting in half an hour? Director Hu won’t be happy if you-” 

Zhongli places his thumb and forefinger on and beneath your chin, gently tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “That’s not what I asked, darling.” You suppress a gasp; but focusing on anything but the scrumptious man in front of you is a task more daunting than Sisyphus having to carry that stupid boulder up that stupid mountain. 

“Promise you won’t laugh.” Your voice comes out so meek you fear he might make you repeat yourself, but ever the gentleman, Zhongli merely hums, coaxing you to continue. “I won’t,” he says softly. 

You swallow, clearing out your throat before speaking. “It’s, uh,” you murmur. “Your gloves are... nice...”

Unable to hold his gaze, you look away. The warmth of the morning sun beating on your back isn’t entirely helping your situation, as beads of sweat form at your hairline from the sheer pressure he kept over you. Curse his Archon blood.

But Zhongli merely stares, lids relaxed as he tries to dissect you with his eyes. “They are, thank you,” he chuckles quietly, lips curling up into a soft smile. “Are you sure that’s everything, though? You know you can tell me anything, right my dear?” 

“Um,” you deflate, partly wishing for that to be the end of it. “...Are you sure you won’t laugh?” 

“I promise,” he confirms. 

Huffing, you internally think of how much mora you would have to take out of your savings to get a name change and disappear off the face of Teyvat if he ends up going back on his promise. 

“Your gloves,” you reiterate slowly. “I like them. A lot.” 

He blinks, expression entirely unchanging as he keeps staring. He tilts his head, wordlessly expressing complete and utter confusion.

“They’re, uh... I’m just.” You clench and unclench your hands at your sides, too aware of his calm breathing compared to your erratic heartbeat. “...Youmakemehorny.” 

With your fists clenching the sheets and your gaze firmly planted on the wall, you fail to notice the amused quirk of his lips and his shoulders bobbing up and down from holding in his laugh. “What was that?” 

You exhale sharply as your lips press into a tight line, but his patience greatly outweighs your own and you fold. “Your gloves turn me on! It’s hot! When you wear them!” 

True to his word, Zhongli doesn’t laugh—not a peep. You do think you hear a chuckle leave his lips though, but when you finally glance at him again, you’re met with a look that might have made you implode on the spot if this were your first time together. “Zhongli—” 

“Thank you for being open with me, my dear,” he cuts you off smoothly, leaning down to press a chaste kiss on your lips. Pulling away slowly, he looks at you with such intensity that you fear for your legs in the future. “Shall I reward you?” 

... 

“Ngh—Zhongli...!” 

You two had been at it for... what, twenty? Thirty minutes straight? You don’t remember what happened after you admitted what had been on your mind for almost a week; he wasted no time and immediately got to work. 

Talk about dedication. 

Chin covered in your slick, Zhongli laps up the juices spilling out of your puffy pussy, dragging out your last orgasm—the third of the session. He groans as the sweet taste hits his tastebuds, the Archon’s hips unconsciously rutting against the bed; the tent in his slacks was borderline painful, but being the gentleman he is, it was his duty to get you off before the main course.

���Ride it out darling,” he hums, pumping two gloved fingers in and out of you at a leisurely pace. The obscene noise of your juices echo in your mind, making you clench around his digits with carnal need for something more—something bigger. 

“I-I can’t, I want...” you trail off, weakly tugging at his disheveled hair. The hair tie he used slipped uselessly off of his locks, having fallen victim to your vicious pulling of his hair. “Please, baby,” you beg weakly, still choked up from your climax(es).

With one last, long lick, he pulls away from your cunt. The sight of his cum covered face makes you whine with desire, but as your eyes trail down, your mind immediately forgets about needing his tongue back on your clit. He shuffles up the bed and straddles your hips, bucking up against your wetness.

Slick covers his crotch, and you can’t help but stare at his bulging cock pressing against the fabric of his pants. “See something you like?” he taunts, bringing his fingers up to his mouth to lick them clean from your juices.

You stare at his lips, then back down to his very obvious hard-on, and back to his lips again.

His figure shadows yours as he cages you in with his forearms, golden eyes piercing into your own. “Zhongli...” you reach down to tug at his belt, looking up at your beloved with big, glossy eyes. “Please don’t make me beg.” 

A hand comes up to your face, stroking your cheek gently. He brings it down to tug on your bottom lip, smearing his saliva on your skin as a gentle smile spreads across his face. “Of course not, darling,” he hums. “I know what you need anyways, so there’s no need to tell me.”

He swiftly unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants, exposing the prominent wet patch on his briefs. “See what you do to me?” Zhongli purrs, watching your fingers impatiently pull down his underwear, shuddering when his heavy cock smacks against your cunt. “You’re not the only one here that gets riled up in such a way.” 

You whine, dragging your hand up and down his throbbing length, pushing it down at the same time as you slide up the bed just enough for his flushed tip to snag onto your entrance. 

“Z-Zhonglii...!” you huff again, impatiently grinding down onto him, desperately needing him to fill you already. A chuckle slips past his lips, and he pulls himself out of his short-lived trance that consisted of staring at his beautiful partner to cup your face. 

“I’m sorry darling,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your nose so gently it feels like a butterfly brushed your flushed skin. “You just looked too beautiful not to admire.” 

The compliment makes heat bloom onto your face, but as quickly as your expression melted into a love-stricken one, it morphs into pleasure as you gasp, feeling him push his fat cock into your needy hole.

“Fuck—so tight,” he mumbles, slowly bottoming out. “Are you alright, darling? Do you need a minute?” Zhongli huffs, brows pinched together as he exerts his self-control to not just ram himself into you immediately. You shake your head quickly, jaw slack, desperately trying to create more friction against your g-spot. 

“Please just—” you choke on your words, feeling him pull back and thrust into you again in one swift movement, the slap of skin against skin making your skin burn with both arousal and embarrassment. 

Zhongli’s right hand slides down to pull your shirt up over your chest, and almost immediately he gropes your breast, groaning at the feeling of the fat of your tit spilling out from between his fingers. 

“So good to me,” he praises, amber gaze burning into you, studying your expression to burn it within his mind. “I can feel you clenching around me.”

He swallows, trying so hard not to bust right then and there. “D’you want to cum, darling? Are you close?” 

Whimpering, you grab his left wrist and tug, looking up at him with a gasp. “Mhm,” you hum quietly, while biting your lip. Shlick sounds invade your eardrums, forcing soft little gasps to leave your lips in tandem with his thrusts. 

“My sweetheart.” The Archon slides his left hand down your face to your throat, pushing down just enough to make your head feel lighter. The cold metal of his rings makes a shiver run up your spine, and as you choke out a gasp, Zhongli brings his other hand down between your bodies to rub your clit. 

“Go on, cum for me darling.” He grunts, shutting his eyes to hold his impending orgasm back. “P-Please, need to feel that gorgeous pussy milking me before I do,” he breathes out, focusing on the pressure he kept on your throat. 

Your eyelids flutter; and as your eyes roll up to the back of your head, you buck your hips up to meet his thrusts, clenching dangerously around his shaft. He thrusts once, twice, and you feel the dam snap as you gush around him, your back arching clean off the bed. You claw at his arms, writhing against the bed as moans leave your throat in waves in rhythm with your orgasm.

Zhongli’s brows furrow and his thrusts slow as you cum, but right as he blinks the bleariness away and meets your glossy, fucked-out gaze, he feels his heart clench. 

“Haah, m-my love—” 

Unable to speak a warning into existence, he shoots his load into you, painting your walls white with thick, warm cum. Pretty moans leave him as his head droops down to the junction of your neck, and his hips stutter while instinctively pushing his cum deeper into you, overstimulating both you and himself. 

“Z-Zhongli, ‘s too much,” you whimper, pressing your palms onto his clothed chest—a poor attempt of pushing him away. “Too full...!” 

Reluctantly, he gives you some breathing room and sits on his haunches to catch his breath. Watching your cunt flutter around nothing, he hums, pressing his hand on your lower stomach to watch the cum pool down the sheets with a hungry gaze. “Mm, I beg to differ,” he coos, flashing you a smirk. “There’s plenty of space left still.”

Your limbs rest numbly as you lay there on your shared bed, completely breathless. Your gaze flickers to the hand he kept on top of your stomach, and your pussy instantly clenches at the sight. 

“Then... how about round two?” 

v. taglist — @leiselotte, @sukunadckrider, @moraxnomora, @skylar896, @callinz, @animecinnamonroll99 , @pe4rl-diver, @kimisukimimi, @casuallynotthirsty, @coffee-ground-bones

[90sbee]

Dying is not an option (when you're by my side)

Leon S. Kennedy x Gn!reader

1k words. Also on a03

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying.

When his mind seems to get too clouded by the visions of monsters, you pull him out of the depths of his trauma. He does his best to love you. He tries.

Or the fic in which you make Leon repeat comforting phrases so it finally gets in his head that he is loved.

Just a very soft idea that wouldn't leave my head and that's been too long in the wip folder. The warnings make it seem worse than it is, but happy ending I promise!!! Had re4r in mind for this one but can be read with other older versions of him. (Though the older the Leon, the angstier it gets lmao)

Content: No use of y/n, very very soft love, hurt/comfort, some angst, established relationship, living together, sitting on his lap, a tiny bit of possessive Leon (yay!)

Warnings: +18 ONLY. No smut but some suggestive lines. Mentions of blood, suicide, guns and overall (some brief) gore. Leon's mental struggles (depression, anxiety). I'm not a native English speaker but I (lazily) proofread and edited this one.

You lean forward, just a little closer to his body. Leon groans, his face unreadable still.

“Don’t want to,” he muses, kind of annoyed at your proposal.

“Just trust me.”

He reluctantly nods, as you get comfortable on his lap. His firm thighs under you, the warmest and comfiest seat you could ever ask for.

You worry about him, worry so much.

You know now: know what he does, what he works as. At first it was hard to believe it, the stories about human turned monsters, about creatures that linger between heaven and hell. But you had to believe him, you were forced to the first time Leon crumbled down in your arms, sobbing the entirety of the night, the immensity of his body reduced to shivering and tears.

“I love you,” you had told him that time. “I’m not letting you go. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You whisper the same things again now, your voice reverberating close to his ear. Leon eases the grip on your hips, replaces it with a soft touch. He tries to calm down, closes his eyes for a moment too long.

“You love me,” he seems to ask, as if trying to convince himself of it, as if trying to find himself worthy of such a feeling from someone like you.

“I do,” you confirm, cupping his cheeks.

He nods, though his heart is thumping in his chest still. Your hands move to his shoulders, then to his arms, caressing the skin with soft strokes.

“I love you… Look at me.”

He obliges, eyes like the ocean, marked by the heavy and dark eyebags.

It breaks your heart to see him like this. Your lip trembles as you lean closer, shortening the distance.

It is entirely possible —as you’re so much aware of— that one day you’ll come home to an unlocked gun and his body in the bathtub. Or maybe it would be the rifle, the carpet stained with blood and pieces of what used to be his jaw.

A jaw that you love so much, that you kiss now.

Leon sighs, seems content with such affection, his hands getting lost down your thighs.

“Listen to me. You’re gonna repeat as I say, okay?” an attempt to get him out of his head, to remind him of who he is.

“ …‘Kay,” he mumbles, seemingly distracted.

“I’m… good.”

He scrunches his nose, pinkish lips downturned. Naturally, he doesn’t dare to say those words. He doesn’t want to trick his brain.

“C’mon,” you egg him, patting his shoulder gently.

The action seems to at least make his lips curve slightly.

“I’m good,” he whispers, his voice insecure.

He tries. You can see how hard he does it: coming home as much possible, the dirty laundry now clean and with a soft cinnamon scent. A sunflower in the kitchen vase next to the window, the coffee mug always clean even when you leave it in the sink, ready to be washed in the morning.

“I’m a good partner,” you resume, reminiscing.

That does stops him in his tracks, a gentle blush rooting on his cheeks, the smile more pronounced now. Leon presses his face against your neck.

“… Do I really have to say it?”

“Yep.”

He breathes on your neck, as if trying to take in a bit of your kindness, a bit of your peace. He closes his eyes, tries to control his breathing. But his hands grip your hips harder.

He fucking loves you.

Leon is not sure he deserves this yet, the warm body on the bed, the pretty smile that kisses him goodbye, lets him go away even in the middle of the night.

“I love you,” he backtracks, pressing a kiss on your neck.

You chuckle, and allow him that admission.

“Very cute but that’s not what you had to repeat.”

Leon raises his eyebrows, feigning annoyance. He keeps his fingers on your hips, dancing on your skin, drawing patterns as he keeps you close. He wishes he could sign his name there, mark you forever so you’d never get too far away from him… So he’d always have a right to come back to you.

“But I love you…” he pouts.

You grab his face with utmost care, force his cheeks to look upwards at your face.

“I love you too. Lots.”

You kiss his forehead. His body melts under that touch.

“ ‘m a good partner” he mumbles, quickly.

“My baby loves me.”

Now Leon chuckles.

“My baby loves me,” he hides again on your neck, his smile etched constantly on his face now. You hug him closer, kiss his forehead once more, as if sheltering a lost angel in your arms.

“I’ll always have a home.”

Oh, that one seems to break him a little. Leon immediately whines, his hands gripping your body with ferocity against his. He can’t say… He shouldn’t. He… he can’t and…

His heart starts beating faster and he gulps.

“You can do it…” you encourage him and he wants to try. He knows, deep inside, that is true and that he is now safe. It takes him several minutes until his anxiety dissipates and he can look up at you, your eyes encapsulating warmth that he had never experienced with anyone else.

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying. It is seen not only in how much he makes time for you, but also in the way he follows along with your little silly ideas, suggestions to try to build himself up again.

And though he wouldn’t directly admit it, since you two are together he has promised himself to fight his hardest in every mission. He spits his own blood, wipes off the exhaustion from his face and keeps pushing forward. Because, he’ll be damned, he wants to see you once more. And once more. And again and again… And when he comes home, to you, Leon immediately checks —for the tenth time— the safety on each gun and leaves them in locked boxes, his fingers slowly forgetting what it’s like to toy with weapons in the sanctuary that you’ve built for the two of you. The cold of the metal is now replaced by the warmth between your thighs, the flesh on your hips, the softness of your hands.

Hell, he is definitely trying.

And it’s fucking working.

God to be on his lap honestly!!! A dream. And if you've made it to the end, thank you!! Mwah, sweet soul 💙

[rarastmblr]

“I'll wait. I'll always wait.”

#Pairing? Teru Minamoto x FEM!Reader

#Sypnosis. Your boyfriend finds out you've been keeping a secret from him, how does he react?

#Tags. The overused trope of three (in this case, two) of the boy's fangirls bullying his girlfriend lmao, Akane Aoi and Aoi Akane is here‼️

—This post was requested by anon. Thank you for requesting! 💕 I don't think this is exactly how you wanted Teru to find out, so I apologize for that! 😅

When you had confessed to Teru you thought you would be rejected too, just like the girls who had poured their hearts out when they wrote their love letters for him.

You expected to have your heart broken as you prepared for the words that would shatter your heart as if it was just a fragile plate.

Getting rejected by the handsome prince isn't the worst that you expect; it was the sheer embarrassment that you'd have to deal with as you walk down the halls of the school.

You could only wonder what had happened to the girls that had gotten rejected by him, were they able to quickly move on?

Unfortunately, unlike them, you surely aren't someone who is able to handle rejection lightly, especially if it's from him.

But— Thank the heavens! The result was much more fruitful than you thought it would be. Pushing the negative thoughts of what people would think aside, Teru accepted your confession.

The both of you had agreed to keep the relationship on the low because Teru had many fangirls— and you know what would possibly happen if they found out.

Teru is worried about what would happen to you. Some girls are driven by love to the point they take it too far if they heard news about their crush having a significant other.

That's what led to this — apparently, a certain someone found out about your relationship between Teru and spread the news to the girls, particularly the ones who were known to be obsessed over him.

“Are you seriously Minamoto-senpai's girlfriend?” Kyoko doubted, right after hitting you multiple times earlier along with her best friend Mayu.

“Oh gosh, he must've been out of his mind!” Mayu snorted. No, their parents must've been out of their minds for giving them names that contradicted their personalities. Though, you suppose it wasn't their parents fault their daughters grew up to be bitches a pain in the neck.

“Minamoto-senpai is too good for you, y'know? He's like a prince charming and you..” Right after finishing her sentence, Mayu grimaced: showing a face of disgust. “Don't let the rumours get into your head..”

Well, that's true.. No. You weren't going to be gullible with all the stanky comments Mayu and Kyoko were throwing at you. But it still does bring some tears into your eyes — not enough for them to roll down your face though.

Oh come on, Teru had just comforted you over your insecurities 2 days ago and just plain words from two girls were already melting down the wall of confidence that Teru built up.

“Augh, come on.. is the crybaby gonna cry again? This is just a routine now” Kyoko sneered, annoyed at the routine she herself made. If she thought bullying you was such a chore then why doesn't she just stop? She might as well just be sadistic.

Crybaby. That was the nickname they gave you when they started this mess; ever since they noticed that you were awfully close with Teru. Way before you and him started dating.

You stood up. Well, at least tried to. The bruises Kyoko and Mayu left on your legs didn't really do you any good. Mayu had already beat you into pushing you against the wall before you could stand up.

Just as the two girls were gonna start berrating you again, a cough was heard from behind. The two turned around to see the one and only Akane Aoi. The two froze in fright, wondering what she was going to do.

Her petite figure walked up to the three of you, her indigo hair tied up into two circle sections behind her head as usual. Aoi stared at you with an expression Kyoko and Mayu couldn't read.

Kyoko and Mayu's next move proved that they were idiots. “Akane-san! The princess of the school! Wanna join us over here?” Kyoko suggested, earning a confused look from the indigo-haired girl.

“This little minx sitting on the dirty floor over here is supposedly dating the one and only Teru Minamoto. Could you believe how absurd that rumour is!? Especially since you and Minamoto-kun dated before..” Mayu babbled. Where did she get that information from? As far as you knew, Teru and Aoi never felt any romantic feelings towards each other. Akane would fume at the thought of that.

“What are you talking about?” Aoi looked like she was gonna burst at any moment, well, at least she looked like she was in your perspective. Because of Kyoko and Mayu not being one of Aoi's close friends, the two bullies in front of you wouldn't be able to relate with you being able to read Aoi and her expressions.

“I heard—” “Whatever you're gonna babble next, just shut up. This bathroom is already reeking because of the stank you and Kyoko are emitting. It'd stink more if you open your mouth again.” Aoi shut Mayu up, already fed up with the two girls in front of her.

“It's best you leave (name)-chan alone, unless you want this audio tape sent to the supreme student council office, where Minamoto-senpai would hear it.”

Hearing Teru's name and seeing Aoi shoving a videotape into their faces — repeating everything they said to you, the two girls quickly dashed out of the area.

It was just you and Aoi now. You stared at her as if she hung up the stars, bowing and thanking her profusely again and again for saving you from them. Aoi only crouched down and helped you to stand up. She then put your arm around her shoulder, guiding you as you two walk together towards the nurse's office.

The nurse's office wasn't far. Lucky day for you. It wasn't like you were dreading the time you were walking with Aoi anyway, while you were walking earlier, she had wiped off your tears and helped bring back a smile on your face. She joked about how the two girls didn't have any room to talk to you even — they literally are in the lowest ranks in the class when it comes to intelligence, while you and Aoi are in the top 10.

The nurse was generous (she always is) to have you excused to any of last the classes you had, and with Aoi's help, the teacher agreed to just sign you as ‘excused’.

When it was time to go home, the bruises on your legs have already healed a lot more than you expected. You thanked the nurse and grabbed your back (that Aoi dropped off earlier) so that you can head back home.

Unexpectedly, Aoi was there just as you opened the door of the nurse's office to leave. She said that she'd walk with you on the way home, as the both of your houses were close to each other.

“Where's Nene-chan?” You asked her.

“Hmm.. I don't know either. She's been spending a lot of time in the bathroom lately, do you think my story about Hanako-san took a toll on her?” Aoi responded. The thought of a ghost in the girl's bathroom sent chills down your spine — At least Hanako-san is a girl though, well, rumoured to be.

“AO-CHAN~!!” Ah, you knew that voice. Turning around in sync with Aoi, Akane walked up to you guys with a smile on his face. Though you felt like you were third wheeling..

A conversation started with Akane and Aoi as the three of you were walking. Akane invited himself to walk the both of you home (by both he definitely just meant Aoi, you didn't really care though).

Aoi didn't see a way to escape from this, the three of your houses were close and there wasn't an excuse she could make up except for “We're gonna have a girl's night. Only girls are allowed” and Akane would just unknowingly counter her by saying “I'm only walking with you until you arrive at your house, it'll be fine!”

The walk back home ended with Akane trying to have a long conversation with Aoi, only for it to be a short conversation. He'd try over and over again while you are just there; observing the two of them. Sometimes you'd often see Aoi's eyes light up more than they usually do, so you didn't bother to include yourself into their conversations.

Though, you really did want to ask what Aoi was going to be doing tomorrow. Tomorrow's Saturday after all, meaning no school to stress about.

*Audio file sent* ...What the hell?

Teru didn't know what to say or feel at the moment. He was just cooking for his siblings earlier right now and they are eating joyfully like a happy family. (Cue Kou excusing himself to go to the bathroom to barf)

A single audio file ruined his evening — even worse that what happened in the audio file had something to do with his girlfriend.

He messaged you, not to ask if the audio was real, he already had enough evidence. But to ask you if you were okay. You replied once he greeted you, but left him on read as soon as he typed the message: ‘Akane and Akane-san informed me about what happened to you today. Can we talk about it? Please?’ He spammed you with messages. He was worried.

After a while, his messages were left on sent. ‘..I'll be visiting you tomorrow.’ That was his last messaged before Teru had turned off his phone. As he looked up, expecting to see Kou and Tiara, he realized he was sthe only one sitting in the dinner table. Where did they go?

You were nervous. It was the crack of dawn and you checked to see Teru's messages again, only to be left frightened because of the news that he'll be visiting you.

No. It wasn't like your parents had any issues with your boyfriend or anything, they loved him. What you were nervous about was the inevitable conversation that is going to happen today.

You weren't very much of a productive person during the weekdays, so you opted to take a bath later instead of right now in the early morning. Not like Teru would mind anyway.

It wasn't long before 7:47 AM, exactly the time Teru arrived at the doorstep of your home. Your mom, though surprised that your boyfriend unexpectedly visited so early, welcomed him warmly.

Before your mom could lead him to the living room so he could sit down while she goes to your room to call for you, he already saw you taking a sneak peak of him from the stairs. Immediately, as if in a emergency, Teru excused himself and hurriedly walked upstairs to your room almost tripping halfway.

“..Young love~” You mother sighed in happiness for her daughter.

“I don't know, it kind of looks like they're gonna break up.” Your father broke your mom from her dream of you getting married to Teru.

“Don't say that!” She hissed at him, grabbing her slipper—

“Please let me in sweetheart,” Teru begged in a soft tone, not wanting to overwhelm you with everything that was happening.

You cracked the door open slightly. You saw him smile reassuringly. You then opened it enough for Teru to walk in, as Teru is finally inside he waited for you to close your door. He knew you liked it best when conversations between you and him were in private.

“You could've just called.. you didn't have to come here.” You told him, only to be countered by his next words.

“I knew you wouldn't reply anyway when you hear my voice from the phone.” Teru responded, only to get a playful hit from you.

“So..” The room was silent as you locked your door for privacy, fearing that one of you're parents would possibly walk in.

“How long has this bullying been going on for?” Teru asked as he walked closer to you, holding your hand in his and rubbing his thumb across your knuckles.

“..Way before you and I started dating.” You answered truthfully, it was better to speed up this conversation than to slower it down and tell lies.

At that, Teru froze. “Why didn't you tell me?” Almost immediately, Teru used his other hand (the one not holding yours) to wipe away the tears that were starting to brim in your eyes.

Teru knew you like he knew his own mind. He knew that you were getting overwhelmed and we're crying because of it. He could almost predict every move that you were gonna do.

Teru smiled at you softly, then gently held the back of your head. Sobs that came out of your mouth turned muffled as he gently pushed your face into his t-shirt. You wrapped your arms around him, feeling a sense of comfort.

“If you don't want to talk about it now, then that's okay. There's no use dwelling on the past.” Teru muttered as he kissed the top of your head. “I'll deal with those girls at school. You won't have anything to worry about.”

Teru continues to comfort you through your muffled sobs, you hear a series of “shh” and words of encouragement throughout the whole ordeal.

Teru tilted your head up to meat his eyes and wiped away any tears still on your face. Also, he used his shirt to wipe of your snot too — much to your embarrassment.

After that he peppered your face with kisses, resulting into the two of you cuddling in your bed the rest of the morning. But your mom called the two of you down stairs when she noticed you haven't eaten breakfast yet.

The rest of the day ended with Teru hanging out with you and your family. Teru invited you to go on a date tomorrow — his treat ofcourse (nothing changed, he was always the one who pays). Tiara decided to come along that day, not that you minded.

Sunday passed, and the walk to school with Aoi was peaceful if you just ignore Akane in the background. The bruises have healed, thanks to your mom and Teru. Dad was the one stressing over the many things he had to buy from the store and pharmacy.

“You look better now. Guessing the talk between you and Minamoto-senpai went well?” Aoi asked as the two of you were at the school gate. Akane got called by the other student council's to hurry up because of an urgent early meeting.

“It went very well.” I answered, giving her a thankful smile. “Thanks again, for protecting me that day..”

“No need.” The two of you walked towards the classroom. “Oh! Nene-chan is finally here!” Aoi chimed, delighted to see her friend. Her absence in classes made her seem like she went missing.

You followed Aoi as she went to converse with Nene. You also gave out some opinions and thoughts about the topic the three of you were conversing about, but only like once or six times since you really didn't know a lot about supernaturals.

The teacher finally arrived, students immediately went to go sit down on their seats. Akane was still busy with the student council meeting you suppose. But what was weird is Kyoko and Mayu not being there chattering, judging everyone in their field of view as if they had any room to talk.

[violetteshoneybee]

WIP. (remus lupin x reader)

remus lupin x reader

In which the marauders and their girls are on summer holiday in South of France and Remus realises he wants you.

Warnings: fluff (maybe smut, we’ll see); not proofread!!

Remus had no idea when he agreed to go to the Potter’s summer house in south of France that the summer holidays would go like this. He thought it would be just the four of them boys in a little house. But he did underestimate the Potters wealth a bit.

The taxi stopped in front of the iron gates of a three-story house. The path to the front door was lined by pine trees. Remus could hear some repetitive melody coming from the trees. He attributed that to some kind of grasshopper. The scorching sun, although filtered by the branches, was making the boy’s head ache and sweat. And the noise from what he had gathered to be a cigale was worsening it. Still, he was pleased to discover the house with its walls made of put-together stone, its shutters needing fresh paint, and the small fountain beside the floral arrangement that would go all around the building. James had pushed its faucet to bathe his head in cold water, but Remus was focused on something else now. He had seen someone in the window. Someone he didn’t know would be here.

The door opened in a hurry, and all he could think was, when did he miss that information?

“We were starting to worry, what took you so long?”

“James had forgotten his pacifier, that’s what took us so long. You know how he is when he doesn’t have it.” Sirius climbed the stairs, his sunglasses in his hair and his bag on the shoulder. “Insufferable!” He muttered loud enough for the four girls to hear.

Remus combed his fingers through his hair and took a long breath before opening his mouth

“Well! Hello-”

“What are you doing here? I thought it was just us four!” Peter asked joining Sirius and the others inside.

You stayed in the corner of the door looking at the two boys left.

“Had a nice trip?”

Remus nodded. You looked ethereal in your blue and white sundress, your hair braided together.

“And you? You didn’t wait too long? Lils is not mad right?”

“Don’t start, Prongs.” Remus lifted his luggage. “I like the dress”

“You’ll get burned if you don’t put sunscreen on, Potter.”

“It’s alright, Evans. He’s a big guy.”

“I have some sunscreen if you'd like.”

James shook his head no, not glancing at them, his arm covering his eyes to cover himself. He had decided he was done with Lily Evans. Too much running around, not enough results, he said. And, too busy becoming a better guy, he was not seeing how Lily’s attention toward him had changed. That’s what everyone understood, though.

Remus’s gaze turned from his three friends to the girl getting in the water. You chuckled a bit listening to Lily’s attempt at catching James attention.

“Not too cold?”

You immersed yourself fully in the pool and let yourself float around.

“It’s parfait!”

Remus smiled at your French pronunciation. You and Sirius had been going around throwing random French words in conversation since the first day of the holidays.

“Is it? Should I join you?” You shook your head.

“Don’t ruin it. It feels good like this.” You hummed plunging your head underneath the surface.

Remus looked at how your body moved expertly under the water. The way your hair floated above your shoulders and how sunshine seemed to rain on your back as you swam. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. Away from your legs moving so delicately under the water like a dance he did not know of.

He watched you like this the whole time you were enjoying the nice and cool pool in the back garden of the house. He was sitting on a lounging chair in the shadow of a pine tree. He had kept his shirt on despite the warm weather, too embarrassed to show his scarred body. Remus’s face was already reddened by the sun, and some freckles had started to appear on his nose and cheeks. You had found them quite adorable on him. It betrayed his soft personality that you loved so much.

You had been in love with Remus for two years now. Stealing glances at him when you could, but keeping your feelings for yourself. You were worried you might ruin your bond and your friend group dynamic. As if getting serious with Remus would stop you from enjoying time with the others. Particularly if Remus were to reject you. You couldn’t even think of how your friendship would go after that without being embarrassed to death. Still, from time to time, when you were brave enough, you would attempt to flirt with Remus. Just to see if you had a chance, or if he really was too good for you. You were wondering at that moment, fully aware of the attention on your body, if you could say something to him. Your face was red just at the thought of it.

“My eyes are higher, Rem.” You managed to say without stuttering too much. You had swum to him and were now looking up at him through your lashes.

Remus was speechless. You looked so innocent, so beautiful at that moment. He wanted to take a picture of you, just to keep you in his wallet, and maybe, just maybe, sometimes say to strangers, “That’s my girlfriend, isn’t she beautiful?” He dreamed of that, of saying you were his.

Dividers credit to @cafekitsune

Tag list : @innerloverpainter

[songsofadelaide]

"—ppy Birthday tooo yooou!" The light was dimmed and the only illumination came from the numerous candles set alight on a shiny fruit and cream shortcake, your smile as bright as the sun as your friends sang in the background. "—ke a wish before you blow the candle—"

Click.

"—toru, hurry up before the timer hits!—" "—f my life, my angel, my—" A young Satoru ran to your side and gave your cheek a big-ass smooch as countless golden ginkgo leaves rained in your background. A picture-perfect autumn ahead of a new year full of decisions. "Ahaha! Nooo! That tickl—"

Click.

"—guru, come on over! You too, Shoko! It—" Empty coffee cups were strewn across your shared table with your friends, the sound of both laughter and complaints filling the air as your friends gathered around you and Satoru, his laughter the loudest of them all. "—haha! Ack! No! W-Wait up, Kento! Satoru said—"

Click.

"Oh, so that's what you've been up to, Seiya," you said, breaking the silence that enveloped your son's bedroom as he jumped from his gaming chair and hurriedly minimized the open video player on his PC.

"M-Mom! H-How long have you been standing there?!"

"Long enough for me to know where my missing SD cards went," you chuckled at the evidently embarrassed face of your teenage son, the spitting image of his father in his youth except for his eyes— which he clearly inherited from you. "Now how did you get your hands on these?"

"W-Well, I..." Came the boy's sheepish reply, a nervous hand on his nape as he evaded your curious gaze. His embarrassed expression starkly contrasted with your husband's usual mischievousness and boisterousness, even though they shared the same long, feathery and silvery eyelashes and hair.

"You're not in trouble, dear, if that's what you're worried about," you reassured him as you took a half-seat on the handle of his chair, careful not to rest your entire weight on it. "Now let me see..."

Seiya released his mouse to you, which you used to click on the minimized video player once more. Digicams were all the rage back when you were in high school and well into college and as the only one in your friend group who owned one, you were primarily responsible for documenting every mundane and special occasion whenever you all got together.

"Oh, this was from my 18th birthday," you laughed as you clicked on the following snippets. "And this was when your father and I visited Meiji Shrine before our college entrance exams. Aaand I think this was just a regular day! We just had coffee..."

"Aunt Shoko never really stopped smoking, did she?" Came your son's query as he eyed you browsing through the aged video clips with a small smile on your face. It was clear to him that you were reminiscing now about the days of your youth, encapsulated in slightly grainy and overexposed photos and videos, yet the memories were clear as day.

"Nope. Though she does that thing now. That, uh, vaping thing? Now don't get any ideas, young man."

"I-I won't, Mom! I promise!" Seiya stammered at your slight warning. "I'm sorry I touched your things. I just thought it would be interesting... to see how you and dad were when you were my age."

Oh, but he pulls off those adorable puppy dog eyes just like his father, all right.

"It's hard to believe that he had so much time for you back then! I-I mean he's so busy now! Does he even remember to text you or at least get you a gift every now and then? I-If not, maybe we can go somewhere together? Or do something together?"

"Oh, Seiya. I'll have you know that I am very happy to be married to your father," you gently laughed at your son's little outburst, coiling your arms around his neck as he lazily rested his warm cheek on your chest. "He loves me a great deal and does so much for me. And for you, in case you've forgotten."

"I... I know," came his defeated response. "All the work he does is for us..."

"I don't think Toru is so busy that he forgets us... Do you perhaps miss your father, Seiya?"

"N-No, I don't!" The boy huffed in your arms, his brows furrowed as he attempted to hide his evidently embarrassed face yet again.

"Your father and I love you very much, Seiya," you said with a smile and a soft hum as you tenderly ran your fingers through your son's hair. You weren't surprised when he wrapped his arms around you and returned your embrace. I suppose he takes after his father in clinginess, too.

"I already know that... But thanks, mom."

[h8ani]

Christmas was always your favorite holiday and filled with so many memories, this year your boyfriend wanted to make sure to make this holiday extra special. Enjoy decorating, drinking cocoa and having some much needed laughs this Christmas.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: just my attempt at fluff 😭, pet names (babe), angst if you squint, fem! reader

I so happily was the secret santa for; @the-witch-of-one-piece 🫶🏼 I hope you like this Christmas piece I did 🥹 I had so much fun doing it!

Christmas was always one of your favorite holidays. Something about seeing the snow fill up your yard as a kid while wanting to sprint out into it and feel what you thought was plush, soft cotton from the sky to quickly realize all you got was cold, easily melted snow, it brought up fond memories even when you remember how sick you got early January every single year.

You loved the happy times with your family, making those cookies that had a picture of Santa and a Reindeer on them, putting up Christmas lights on the tree only to get them tangled up, and even making snow angels once you were finally in proper winter clothes to go outside. You just loved Christmas.

It was the happiest time of the year, all of the memories of when you were a child making those cookies with your favorite cousin, getting to be the one to put the star on top of the tree and even getting to choose the movie on Christmas Day when everyone gathered in the living room as the night settled down, it was always How The Grinch Stole Christmas every single year you got to choose.

Thinking back on these memories is why it was such a bittersweet feeling. This was your first Christmas alone ever since moving to Japan, you were presented with a job opportunity you just couldn’t pass up thus, here you are. You were supplied with a lovely home for relocating, a higher position in your work and you even made some friends and met some very special people along the way which you wouldn’t change for anything. So, if being alone on Christmas was the only downside, so be it.

You sigh, allowing yourself to be swallowed up in the mountain of blankets you have covered yourself with on the couch, you shiver underneath them all, no matter how many you’ve brought downstairs you still can’t seem to shake the chill in your home.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A groan vibrates your chest while you sink further into the couch, blankets falling over your head in the process. Maybe if you ignore who it is they’ll go away.

Knock. Knock. Knock… Knock. Knock. Knock… KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

“Y/n! Open up! It’s cold out here!”

You jolt up once you hear his voice, blankets now flung to the floor and your jacket of warmth now gone. The quiet padding of your feet against the cold tile floor is heard as you make your way to the door. You swing the door open to see your boyfriend, hoodie and sweatpants clinging to his body like the snow that’s clinging to the top of his beanie. You can see small snowflakes slowly melting on each braid of his hair while he shakes in front of you. “What are you doing here? You should be-”

“With you, why didn’t you tell me you were going to be alone today?” Ran walks in, squeezing past you and your dumbfounded expression while dropping a box you didn’t even notice he was carrying, the jingle of trinkets and items catches your attention. Closing the door quickly you turn to see your damp boyfriend pulling out a bundle of ornaments, his body slightly shaking as the snow on his body had now melted into nothing but cold water.

You lightheartedly sigh while taking the ornaments from his hands. “There’s spare clothes of yours in my room, go change before you get sick.” A small ‘thank god’ leaves his lips before he runs upstairs, the heavy thuds of his footsteps stopping once he makes it to your room.

You glance in the box, rummaging through everything Ran had brought. Ornaments, a big gold star, twinkle lights, everything to decorate a Christmas tree. You pout slightly seeing everything he had brought. “I don’t even have a tree this year…”

“I brought a tree.” You feel him kiss your shoulder, you didn’t even hear him come downstairs. You spin around to face him.

“What?”

“I brought a tree.” Ran smiles at your expression, your eyes widen upon hearing his words and he can’t help but let a chuckle leave him. He leans past you while motioning to the box, he grabs two different sets of ornaments. “Anyways, do you like gold or silver more? I brought both in case you didn’t like one of them, but I have some red ones back at my place and I can have Rindou-”

“You brought a tree.” You say matter-of-factly while still looking at him as if he had a second head. Ran looks over his shoulder and motions with his chin towards the window where his truck was parked on the street outside of your house.

“Yes I brought a tree.” he says while looking at the ornaments again, “Anyways, gold or silver babe.” He turns to hold them up and sees you now tugging your boots on, winter coat barely around you, and earmuffs in hand. A smile creeps up on his face once he sees the excitement on your own, the inner child in you showing. Seeing you like this warmed his heart, the elation you showed without a single care over just a simple holiday.

Ran knew that you moved to the city for a job promotion, you just decided to leave out the part about how far away your family was and how you were spending all holidays alone now, aside from when he’s been there with you. He was never the one to celebrate any holidays but that changed shortly after he met you, the anticipation you felt just watching the fireworks in the sky made him realize that he wouldn’t mind seeing the big smile form on your face once again, especially if he could be the one to make you smile.

That's why today needed to be special, he wanted to make it special for you.

He saw you run out of the house and down to his truck where the tree was strapped up to it, he chuckled once he saw you bounce up and down in excitement, the smile you gave him as you turned to see him through the window was all he wanted to see this Christmas.

~~~

The tree wasn’t huge, but it was big enough to fit one pack of ornaments all around; you and Ran decided on picking the gold pack - “it feels more Christmas-y” you had told him.

You’re admiring the tree while wrapped up in the thick blankets you had once abandoned earlier, it was the perfect way to end a once lonesome holiday.

The fireplace was finally lit, all thanks to your lovely boyfriend for bringing extra wood and lighting it. The cold chill from earlier was finally gone and a newfound warmth was dancing around your home.

The subtle scent of chocolate wafted through your nose as Ran came back with two steaming mugs intricately labeled His and Hers. “You like hot chocolate right?” He says as he carefully hands you the mug while leaning down to kiss you. His lips tasted like the beverage he oh so sneakily sipped already. You hum into the kiss, silently answering his question and pulling away to smile. “I love it actually.” You say.

He settles in next to you on the couch, one hand firmly grasping the mug while his other pulls the blankets over the both of you, soon grabbing the tv remote and scrolling through the various Christmas movies on display.

“Hey babe?” You speak up, quickly sipping your hot cocoa before continuing. “Shouldn’t you be with Rindou today? It’s Christmas after all.”

A chuckle escapes his lips before glancing at you. “Don’t worry, Rin will be over shortly.” You nod and set your mug down, soon cuddling into his side.

It was nice like this, just the two of you even though holidays for you have always been something of a spectacle, you could find yourself finding peace in the solidarity of the both of you if every holiday could be like this.

“This should be our tradition from now on.” He says suddenly. “Picking a tree, decorating it, hot chocolate, and movies, I’d like that.” You tilt your head up, seeing the light tint of pink graze his cheeks as he speaks, his eyes still on the tv screen avoiding your own. “If you’d like-”

“I’d love that…” you quickly answer, killing any uncertain thoughts in his mind. “Thank you for everything today, it meant the world to me.” His eyes catch your own, cheeks deepening in color. The sudden pull you feel towards him feels tense in the air while he slowly leans down, lips barely brushing against your own, eyes fluttering shut when the quiet click of your front door is heard followed by a loud THUD.

You jolt back as the door swings open and a blur of green runs in and stops. “Ran, you son of a bitch…” the green furry man says, you gasp once realizing—

“Rindou! You’re the-”

“I was told it was a costume party!” Rindou exclaims, finally turning around and revealing the grinch outfit he so willingly wore.

“Ah come on Rin,” Ran beams. “This is gonna be the start of a new tradition.” He snickers while you can’t help but laugh out loud, both of your giggles and laughs meshing together as your favorite Christmas movie starts to play in the background.

Maybe some new traditions would be just what you needed this year.

@enchantedforest-network

[peachsukii]

𝗄𝖺𝗍𝗌𝗎𝗄𝗂 & 𝗋𝖾𝗂'𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝖽𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽 tagged: @.dynam1ght & @.phantech

@.dynamight-agency: Cliffside mountain views, a sunset painted skyline, dancing under the fairy lights and around the fire with friends and family. A once in a lifetime celebration, congratulations to Dynamight and Phantasma! #dynatasma-wedding

@.phantech: one of the best days of my life. proud to be mrs @.dynam1ght <3 @.dynam1ght: @.phantech love you peaches, thanks for being my whole world. @.AllMight001: How fast they grow up! A wonderous ceremony and happy to have been able to watch you two shine. Congratulations kids! @.dekuu: such a beautiful day! it's about time you two tied the knot ;) @.float-on-uravity: still crying over your dress @.phantech! @.creati_hero: love you two! @.earphone-jack & I are beyond thrilled for your love. thank you for having us last night! @.chargeboltz: ooooooh look at @.dynam1ght being mushy on main! so happy for you two :D @.real-red_riot: congrats you two!! @.irl_alien-queen and I love you very much! @.fire-shoto-ice: thanks for having me, very happy for you both. @.dynam1ght: @.chargeboltz don't push your luck.

thank you for the tag @aceofbooks-creative-anthologies ! and throwback to neon's wedding game back in february. ♡

open tag for anyone who'd like to join!!

((extra honeymoon themed mb below the cut hehe))

aaaaand a ton of photos that can't be seen outside of the locked peaches folder 😈🍑

[fictionfordays]

Lake Fun

Ryo Inui x fem!Reader

CW: this is porn so... piv, growling, dirty talk, kinda rough, oral (f receiving), a little banter at the beginning, tension, pet names (sweet/good girl), hair pulling, Ryo is really into smells, also he's big, probably not written well lol

A/N: There is NOT enough content for Ryo and there is so much to explore with him, I think

Back to Main Masterlist | BNHA/MHA Masterlist

You were at the lake with some of the other Pro Heroes just goofing around and having a good time away from hero work for the day.

The tension between you and a certain hero was growing thicker and thicker every time you saw each other - which was quite often since you worked together frequently or met up at the bar with mutual friends some evenings.

After swimming and floating in the water for a while, you decided to get out of the water and sit on your picnic blanket. The sunshine felt so warm against your cool, damp skin and dripping hair. You took a sip of your strawberry lemonade, closing your eyes as you savored its refreshing flavor. Until a certain someone came over and ruined it by sitting next to you on your blanket.

Your nose scrunched up cutely as you teased him, "you smell like wet dog."

He leaned slightly towards you, snout turning in your direction as he took a long sniff of the air that circled your body. He growled just loud enough for you to hear him, "...and you smell horny." He turned his face to look out over the water and watched the remaining pros splashing and laying in the lake.

You grabbed his snout firmly, turning his face back towards you and pulling him in so close your noses almost touched. "Ryo, are you mentioning this because you want to DO something about it?" you questioned with a quirk of your brow playfully.

***

Less than an hour later, you find yourself pressed firmly against the bedroom door in the lake house that you and the other pros rented for the weekend lake trip. Ryo towered above you, one large hand wrapped around your pretty throat while his other held onto your hip tightly to keep you in place as he humped against your ass like his favourite pillow. You whimpered quietly from his onslaught, looking up at him with your biggest puppy eyes - or at least trying to.

He rubbed his wet nose along the length of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent and groaning about how good you smell, yearning for nothing more than to shove his snout where it belongs between your legs where he can lap and taste - finally - what he’s been craving for so long.

His hand that gripped your hip eagerly slid around to your front, slipping under the fabric of your bathing suit bottom to toy with your needy little clit. You released a gasp as he collected your essence on his fingers to use as lube for those tight little circles he knows you’ll love. Thick fingers begin moving quicker and quicker until you’re writhing in his grip, your fingers tightening around his forearm leaving little crescents as it becomes “t-too much, Ryo!”

A louder-than-intended groan escapes his drooling lips as he sinks down to his knees for you. “W-what are-” your question is cut off as he uses one hand to press you firmly back into the wall, the other grips your bathing suit bottom and gives a sharp tug to pull it down your legs. He quickly begins licking your inner thighs where your essence dripped at the loss of what little clothing you had worn before his tongue finds its way to your core. The wet muscle licks and fondles your sensitive clit before diving into your needy warmth. Spongey muscles and a surprised moan from you greet him as his tongue explores your tasty insides, swiftly finding that spot that drives you absolutely mad.

Your eyes cross a little as soft sobs fall from your plush lips. “Mmnh~ Ryo! P-please? Need more!”

He grunted at your whining, “be a good girl ‘n cum for me then.”

His tongue continued its ministrations, his fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing lazily against it. Your nose scrunches up in that cute way he likes as your body tenses up, reacting to him so well, as you cum on his awaiting tongue. You slap a hand over your mouth to try to muffle your moan as best you can. He licks and rubs until you’re twitching in over-sensitivity. The both of you are breathless as he brings himself to stand behind you again. “I wanted to hear you,” he tsked lowly while untying the string to his swim trunks. His big cock bounced against his abs as it sprung free, causing him to hiss quietly as the cool air hit his leaky tip.

You were about to turn around and drop to your knees for him when he loomed over you and roughly pushed against you. One hand came up to grip your hair, pulling enough for you to look back at him as he leaned close. He licked your parted lips, the tip of his warm tongue flicking against your upper lip. His other hand gripped the base of his cock and smacked it against your ass a few times before sliding it between your legs, rubbing it against your folds and coating it in your wetness.

He growled something incoherent as his tip caught your entrance and slowly began pushing in. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan at the stretch of him. He loosened his grip on your hair and brought both of his hands down to your hips, adjusting his stance as he continued pushing into your welcoming heat.

“So t-tight, sweet girl,” he panted against your skin, fingers twitching for him to move faster already.

Finally, his hips were flush with yours and he paused for a moment for you to adjust. It was so hard for him to be patient, but by the universe if he didn’t try! You nodded at him to continue. Eager boy went straight into a brutal pace, rutting into you like there was no tomorrow, panting and groaning. His arms encased around your smaller figure, his left hand firmly holding onto your right shoulder, and his right hand gripping your left hip tightly. His hips smacked against yours so roughly that if he wasn’t holding onto you then you’d probably be fucked right through the thin bedroom wall.

You were still so sensitive from your first orgasm that it wasn’t long before the coil in your belly tightened again. Your walls fluttered around Ryo’s length making him groan and growl right in your ear.

“Ya wanna cum already, sweet girl? Rrr b-but ah- we’rrrre just getting started!”

Taglist: @tired-teacher-blog @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @enchantedforest-network

If you want to be added to my taglist, leave a comment or dm! 

I do not own these characters. All rights to the original creators. All content—created rights are reserved to Wallabypirate©2023.

[dollsque]

Hi hi!

I read your fanfics and I’m in love!!

And when I realised that your requests are open?!! I was just jumping because I knew I had to request something

Could you please write Hobie brown x fem!guitarist!reader??

So basicalllyyy

Hobie is chilling in a pub just enjoying his time and bla bla, when a band starts to play on the stage

Usually, he wouldn’t mind, but that night??

He noticed that his band mates would look at the stage quite often, so he decided to look as well. And when he saw reader, just playing like it was breathing for her, he lost it!!!

He was just so shocked that R could make guitar look so easy, yet make it sound so majestic

Hobies band mates would snicker and laugh at his reaction

Then, after the performance, R decided to go and order a drink or smt. So she just casually goes over to the bar. Nothing special, right? WRONG!! Hobie is LOST! He can’t look away, he thinks that everything R does is just captivating.

And yeahhh

They have a conversation and it’s just super cute (maybe while R waits for her drink, the bartender tries to flirt with her and Hobie gets jealous?? You can leave that part out if you want to;) )

Yeahh

(Hobie is just a tongue-tied mess but R thinks it’s adorable and she kinda has Hobies’ normal attitude)

Yup!! Thank you in advance!!

Take care and please hydrate!! (I have a big issue with that lol)

-🎀 (can I claim this ribbon? So you just know that it’s me in the future)

So yeah!! Thank you a lot!!

💜 ➷ ₊• ☆ ˚˳ — 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐓𝐄𝐃 — ₊• ☆ ˚˳

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆!! sorry for taking so long! school is starting soon and i’ve been busy anxiously watching as the first day gets closer and making the most of the last couple weeks i have left!and you may claim the ribbon! i named the bandmates to make things easier if you don’t mind <3 thank you 🎀 anon!

➷ ₊• ☆ ˚˳ — 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k

➷ ₊• ☆ ˚˳ — 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: hobie brown x !fem!guitarist!reader (fluff) ☆

➷ ₊• ☆ ˚˳ — 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: the fanart is by @/aspen.aspid! i just added the filter, lol. you can find her carrd in her tiktok bio. please check it out <3 will involve drinking and cursing (obviously, but y’know), no description of y/n, i’m not familiar with drinks so i will not be specifying what reader or hobie and his bandmates get LMAO, i gave the bandmates names from the comics.

➷ ₊• ☆ ˚˳ — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 <𝟑

➷ ₊• ☆ ˚˳ — HOBIE AND HIS BANDMATES enter the pub and the music is roaring throughout the place, the drums vibrating through their chest as they walk. There is purple and blue lighting, instantly setting the mood, there are large speakers, and the vibe is overall really cool so far.

This is the first time they’ve come to this bar. They were recommended this bar by a friend and they wanted to check it out. Sitting at the bar, they see a large display of a variety of drinks displayed, there is a menu for bar snacks, sandwiches, and desserts.

They like it so far and are chatting it up, talking about their upcoming songs, their instruments, how they’ve been doing, when next practices, and random, unhinged conversations that they don’t even know the cause of. They DO know, however, that it started with Hobie saying some wild shit.

Then, when they got the stuff they ordered, which were drinks and some sandwiches, the current topic came to a halt and they started looking back before continuing the conversation, then back again, and back to the conversation. Hobie hadn’t been paying much attention to the band, but now he was curious about what got them to keep the conversation going on and off. Looking behind him, he finally understands what they’re so captivated with.

How could they all not be captivated?

You are currently shredding the guitar like there’s no tomorrow, keeping up with the drums in perfect sync and accentuating the singer’s powerful vocals and the bassist’s support. To them, you are the highlight of the song that you and your band are currently playing.

The smoke acting like a stage effect covers some parts of you for a few seconds, but when the smoke finally parts fully to reveal your entire self, he finds himself more than captivated. The way your fingers dance at an incredible speed on the strings to switch notes and the way the guitar pick so confidently strummed the guitar, he finds himself questioning how the guitar pick is still in your hand. However, from guitarist to guitarist, he knows that you have an iron grip on that pick. He just can’t stop staring at you.

Your hair, your eyes, your clothes, just…everything.

“Holy shit, mate, she’s got you mesmerized doesn’t she?” One of his bandmates, Karl smirks, nudging him with his elbow as the others snicker next to him.

“Can’t take his eyes off her,” Riri snickers, taking a sip of her drink.

“Oh, come out of it. You guys are looking at her too!” Hobie points out in defense, finally looking away, though reluctantly.

“We stopped looking a while ago, mate. It’s been three minutes since we last looked. You were staring at her for the last minute of the last song and for two minutes of the current song that’s playin’.” Robbie told him. He gave him a playful flick on the side of his head, causing Hobie to scowl at him. “I think you’re the one that needs to come off it the most. You’re fucking LOST in her dude.”

“How long you guys think she’s been playing the guitar?” Mattea questioned, shifting the teasing off Hobie…for now.

“Hell, long enough to do all that. And here I thought there was no one better than me,” Hobie scoffed in awe.

“You thought wrong even BEFORE we saw her,” Robbie quipped, earning a loud laugh from Mattea and causing Riri to snicker as she tried drinking more of her drink, making it bubble.

“Oh, fuck off, you asshole.” Hobie scoffed, but there was a small smirk on his face. And just like that, they’re back to teasing poor (literally) Hobie.

He already finds himself lost in her again, but he’s interrupted much earlier this time. He doesn’t even know what the other members look like. Don’t get him wrong, your bandmates are just as incredible and powerful as you, but they are goddamn.

“Hey, Lover Boy, what are you gonna say when she comes over here for a drink?” Mattea asked.

“What?” Hobie questions a little too quickly. “I highly doubt she’ll come over for a drink. By the time they’re all done playing, the pub will be closed.”

“It just turned 8 PM, Hobs. I don’t think they’ll be playing for the next three hours.”

As if on cue: “THANK YOU ALL FOR LISTENING US PLAY OUR NEW SONGS!” Your band member proudly and gratefully yelled into the microphone, causing everyone in the pub to cheer. “We play here regularly, and ever since we first started, you guys have always been very supportive, so thank you. Have a great night!”

Regularly? Shit, this might be Hobie’s new regular pub, and no, his bandmates don’t get a say in it.

Wait.

“Hey, Lover Boy, what are you gonna say when she comes over here for a drink?” That question Mattea asked earlier was now invading his brain. He immediately starts thinking of things to say, but he suddenly feels his senses go off, and it’s NOT from danger.

He turns around to face where you’re supposedly standing nervously. “Oh, Hello,” he greeted politely, trying to keep a straight smile on. You were there in all your greatness, your electric guitar slug over your shoulder. Holy shit, Robbie’s right. He’s so fucking lost in you.

“Hi! Is anyone sitting next to you?”

Nothing.

“Hello?” You called out as his bandmates discreetly snickered.

“Oh, no, nobody’s sitting there. Shit, sorry,” he apologized, twirling his glass in a more fiddling matter.

You giggle at him and sit down on the stool next to him, not oblivious to his obvious nervousness and interest in you.

Hobie glanced back at his bandmates, and they only looked back with a slight smirk before conversing within themselves, leaving Hobie out of it.

Now he has to talk to you if he doesn’t want to look like some lonely loser. They’re smart for that; he can’t lie.

“So, you were very good up there. You play the electric guitar like there’s no fucking tomorrow. I like that. How long have you been playing? Many years, I reckon?” He asked, putting his glass down and resting his head in his hand.

You mirror his position. “Oh yeah, a hell ton of fucking years went to that, but thanks.” You smirked proudly. “How ‘bout you? You playin’ tonight?”

“Me? Oh, no. I just like to take it with me everywhere. It really adds to my outfit, y’know?” He answered with a smile, though it looked absolutely lovesick. “My friends over there, we uh, play here and there at a different pub not too far from here.”

“Really? I might have to check it out then. Maybe just for you,” you answered with that captivating smile Hobie loves so much.

He’s so lost. He cleared his throat. “I can’t wait to see you there and I can show you my playing, and stuff. My band’s great too, y’know, but uh—”

“I’m sure they are, but I’m still going there to hear you play if I won’t make you nervous and mess you up.”

Damn, she’s good at this. Hobie laughs and turns to drink a bit from his glass in a pathetic way to hide his face and that lovesick smile he had on his face. So damn lovesick. He doesn’t even know your name yet. Hell, he’s barely seen you for an hour. But damn it if an hour isn’t enough to fall in love with you.

“Hey, pretty girl,” the bartender greeted you with a wink, causing Hobie’s lovesick face to transition into a judgemental look. Pretty girl? “Anything I can get you today?”

“Can I get that drink over there and the ground beef sub?” You asked, pointing to that specific drink you want.

“Of course, anything for you. Hey, seriously, I meant it when I called you pretty,” the bartender smiled as he started making her sub.

“Yeah, she’s bloody gorgeous,” Hobie agreed, mainly out of spite. He still agreed, though. You were bloody gorgeous. “The most gorgeous girl here.”

That gave you butterflies. It’s like he flipped a switch; as if that small nickname the bartender gave you immediately caused him to go into defense mode.

Jealousy mode.

“Why thank you, you guys, but I like it coming from him more.” You smirk at the bartender, nodding your head towards Hobie, who now switches back to his initial consciousness. “I’m with him tonight.”

“Maybe you should make that more…nights? If you want to of course, but, y’know, just tonight? Really? I mean, are you sure you don’t want more? I mean, I would want to make it more than just tonight.”

He’s so adorable. Awkward too, but that just makes him more adorable. The bartender sighs disappointedly but raises his hands in both acceptance of defeat and a little bit of respect.

“We’ll definitely make it so it’s not just for tonight. You should come here tomorrow with your band. I’ll be looking forward to you,” you wink slyly.

“Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah, definitely. We’ll be here. Right, um, what’s your name? Mine’s Hobie. Hobie Brown,” he greeted, awkwardly holding a hand out for you to shake.

You giggled at the gesture and shook his hand. “Y/N, nice to meet you. And you have a cute name? I like that.”

“Oh! Thank you! You have a very nice name too. I’ll remember it for when I come to see you tomorrow.” He smiled. Oh, if only she knew that his name was actually Hobart.

Thanks, Mom. He almost rolls his eyes at the thought. He can already hear his bandmates snickering even more than before, and he has half a mind to tell them to shut the fuck up.

“So, if we’re gonna be hanging out more than just tonight, we should have each other’s number, yeah? I’ll even tell you the next time our band plays at the other pub. Address and everything, of course. Maybe a backstage pass included for a little private meet and greet where we can really get to know each other,” Hobie smirked. The smoothest thing he’s said all night. There’s his confidence coming back. Slowly, but surely.

Now that you didn’t expect. You let out a chuckle and take a sip of your drink. “What happened to the adorable, tongue-tied boy I was just talking to?”

“We all gotta start somewhere,” he smirked, now drinking the rest of his drink that was left in his glass. “So, tomorrow?”

“Leaving so soon?”

“You want me to stay?”

“I need you to stay. Who else will keep me company?”

“Shit, we still got two hours and fifty minutes,” he smirked.

“Hm. Still need that number though,” you teased, poking his shoulder playfully. You internally squeal when he starts writing down his number on a small piece of paper. Hobie internally celebrates as he writes his number.

He slides the paper towards you, and you gladly pocket it.

“And yes, tomorrow. It’s a date,” you smile. Your heart flutters from the contact your knees make from facing each other on the stools. He doesn’t pull his leg away, and neither do you. You two like it that way.

It’s only the beginning of your night.

➷ ₊• ☆ ˚˳ — “WHAT I WOULD GIVE for someone to look at me the way Hobie looks at that girl.”

Riri sighs, stirring her drink with her straw as she glances at the two of them.

“Right? The fucker’s in love. Hell, he looks ready to propose right there and there.” Karl scoffed lightheartedly.

“Woah, slow down there. They’ve barely been talking for ten minutes,” Robbie snickered.

“Enough with the snickering!” They heard from their electric guitarist. It seemed as if you had gone to use the bathroom because your bandmates were still there. They didn’t seem oblivious to the fact that she was talking to Hobie, either.

“Our bad, our bad,” Matteas apologized. “…backstage pass, huh?”

“Shut up!” He yelled, slapping her with one of the pub’s newspapers while it was still rolled up. His bandmates all just snickered more.

What a pain in the ass. Yet, he couldn't help but smile proudly at himself.

© 2024 dollsque - all rights reserved; do not copy my works, repost my content, edit my works, or translate my works on tumblr or anywhere else. it is strictly forbidden. oh, and no AI shit with my works, please.

[pleaktale]

I have a ko-fi page! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

I finally got the guts to create a ko-fi page if you want to support me or commission me! Right now I have 5 slots available and you can request over ko-fi (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈)

I also have last year's drawings if you want to see some of my old work (and cringe self 💀), I'll be posting updates there too on my projects (current typesets and future typesets, sketches, arts n' crafts...) so check it out!

And pls pls pls your reblog means just as much! (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

[azaleakoneko]

“Men are objectified here. Simp or GTFO”

Recent: Kiss me once, Doctor’s Orders

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Go ahead, ask me something ଘ(੭˃ᴗ˂)੭♡ 18+ off anon only.

Current Project(s): Sanji & more Sanji (for Steph’s event!)

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⋅˚₊‧𝜗𝜚‧₊˚ ⋅ lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıılıı.lllııılı.ıllı ⋅˚₊‧𝜗𝜚‧₊˚ ⋅

Now Playing [Fantasy — Khai Dreams]

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𓆩♡𓆪╰┈➤ 18+ MDNI. Howl, 29, 🏳️‍🌈, any pronouns. In a poly marriage with Ace and Sanji, Choso’s cumslut. FUCK I love anime men (Ahem & so do you if you’re here! 👀)

No hate allowed on my page. Spread love or kindly go away. ⋅˚₊‧𝜗𝜚‧₊˚ ⋅ Resident of @enchantedforest-network ⋅˚₊‧𝜗𝜚‧₊˚ ⋅

Welcome, my loves! All content unless otherwise stated belongs to: ©HauntedHeartHowl, previously HowlTheSanjiSimp. Please do NOT: copy, modify, translate, feed my fan fictions to AI, repost or promote my writing, graphics, or layouts on other platforms. Please DO feel free to comment, reblog or follow <3 Enjoy your stay!

[90sbee]

Pull the rope, choke me with your love.

Leon S. Kennedy x Fem!Reader 6k words (yeah, sorry not sorry). Also on a03

It feels like coming back to the surface, you think. Leon breathes loudly, panting. He kisses each boob once more, tenderly, resembling a “goodbye”. You look at his motions with half-lidded eyes, and you’re unable to move your gaze away when he detaches from your body, his hand re-emerging from your cunt with traces of your dried blood on his skin. You gasp but Leon barely notices it, rubbing the maroon strokes against his tactical pants swiftly, without any complaint, as if simply getting rid of paint after handling a canvas.

Both of you choose to delay the mission. Maybe it is because there is a confession that you can’t delay anymore.

I guess this is what happens when you get horny in your period. @navstuffs saw it first. @emilzke, you'd say you'd read something like this so, in case you feel like it! (No pressure tho,  mean it!!) Content: Smut. Period sex. Everybody is a switch. (Sub!Leon my beloved). Sex with feelings bc the mutual pining is strong. There is some plot but like, it's mostly smut, ngl. No use of y/n, tons of pet names. Stupid banter, age difference. DI!Leon specifically since I don't think any other version works? Hints of size kink, as usual. Coming in pants. Dry humping (sorry not sorry there is no actual penetration in here. They do have a good time tho. Multiple good times). Warnings: +18 ONLY. Have I already mentioned blood? Yeah, it's not that bloody tho, I promise. Hair pulling, crying during sex (i promise Leon was enjoying it, tho, no dorks were hurt in the writing of this fic), mentions of choking but no actual choking in here. Biting, scratching? I'm not a native English speaker so, apologies for any mistakes.

Being around Leon always felt like pulling a rope, the material tense, and tense, until letting go of the rope would cause you two to be hurt.

Oh, but what a delightful way to go that would be.

Missions with him would be easy. Well, as easy as putting your life on the line can be. His presence was always a blessing, a protective wall of a man always up to keep you safe. And he did it, numerous times he received cuts, and got bruises on his skin, and once even let his bicep —that one that he would always touch obsessively since then— kiss a bullet, everything to keep you safe.

Even out of missions, Leon was there. He would remain close, check on you. “Gotta make sure my partner is alright,” he’d say, and the way he’d accentuate his words would get you dizzy at times.

The rope felt more like a red string now.

Caging you, his warm body on top of yours now, barely attempting to remain prude.

“You’re gonna freeze to death,” he had said, closing the distance between you two. The whole mission today had been a fiasco, even if Leon had been eyeing you more intensely than other times, stepping closer, more protective than usual. It had actually been his idea to turn back when it became glaringly obvious that infiltrating into the building would take more hours than you had planned. Retracing steps, radioing for back-up that would take until the very next morning to show up with more ammo, and finishing with the directions to a nearby safe house, which was sadly devoid of anything helpful to endure a fall night like this. “Don’t worry, they say body heat is actually the best heater,” he’d teased you, as you buttoned up your light jacket. But when he’d actually pushed you onto the ground and clumsily climbed on top of you, you knew he was serious. And though it wasn’t the first time you two had ended up so close, bodies tangling in each other, it was the first time he seemed so devoted to get that physical contact.

You let him have that. The night is not that chilly, the morning is not so far away. In the bleak, scarce space of the cabin, there aren’t many options. Sure, you could spend the night talking yourselves awake, back to back. Or maybe one of you could rest their head on the other’s lap as the other keeps a lazy guard.

But you choose to be close. Fucking close, breathing in each others’ faces. You know by now that the rope is about to cut, that you’re going to end up crossing the limits, but for now, there is no stopping. In the secluded safe house, you let Leon breathe close to your ear, pretend you don’t realize what he may need. After all, you followed him way too compliant today, no ifs or buts about delaying the mission, resting your head against his shoulder as he radioed for the damned helicopter, letting your hand graze his on the way to the cabin.

Maybe neither of you want to wait anymore for the rope to break on its own.

“You okay?”

He sighs then. Brows furrowed as he nods, his expression serious.

“Yeah,” his voice is raspy, a lingering exhaustion dripping from his words. “Just wished we could have finished with this already…”

Your hands swiftly move to his back, fingers rubbing softly over the thin material of his jacket. Leon melts a little at that, breathing against your face. A soft growl escapes his throat when your hands move higher, pressing against the muscles of his shoulders.

At that, he does seem to feel a bit flustered, looking to the side, towards the rusty cabin door. You attempt to hide the chuckle that leaves your mouth.

“What’s so funny?” He snarks, his cheeks already pinker.

“You’re literally a whore, Kennedy.”

“Jeez,” he raises his eyebrows, finally looks back at you. “You’re being an absolute darling tonight, huh… ” he muses, a smirk crossing his face.

“It’s your fault. You’re the one that decided to get on top of me, unprompted.”

“… C’mon. You know we didn’t bring any camping equipment for this crap…  Just lemme take care of you.”

His explanation is, of course, true, but teasing him seems like a better pastime for this chilly night. “Well, still. I’m a lady with boundaries. Maybe I do not want a sweaty man on top of me.”

“Excuse me?” Leon licks his lips, his face leaning a little closer to yours now. “I’m not just a sweaty man, I’m your mission partner.”

“Yeah, my mission partner that decided to moan after I just massaged his back a little.”

“God, I did not moan,” he puffs out his cheeks, shaking his head.

“Well, maybe you should.”

A silence rings through the cabin as soon as you utter those words. Much to your surprise, but not regretting them. Leon stares at you, gaze unreadable as he tilts his head. You begin to feel a little nervous, your hands slowly abandoning his back.

Why would you even admit it that way? Too straightforward, too blunt. Yes, he is your mission partner, he’s got your back all these years but… What if it was just that? A good partner at work. Simply a kind man. The possibility of having confused his chivalry with affection makes you feel stupid.

You suddenly feel small under him, and you gulp, trying to squirm away from him.

“Wait, no. What did—what did you say?” He finally reacts, one of his hands cupping your cheek now.

“Nuthin’.”

“Didn’t sound like nuthin’ to me,” he presses.

Leon looks at you, and there is a new glimmer in his eyes. A certain hunger, encompassing his words and his presence. It invigorates you with a sort of bravery, and you nod, very slowly, your eyes not even leaving his. Your hands go back to their place, on his back, but this time under the jacket, under the grey t-shirt he is wearing. You observe his reaction, as a little prey seeing how much she can test the waters before death comes upon her.

His gaze moves away from your eyes, lower, until it reaches your lips. And then your hands ascend on the skin of his back, scratching slowly.

“F—fuck,” is the only thing he can manage out before his lips descend onto yours, kissing clumsily, biting the tender flesh with desperation.

The rope has fucking snapped now. You both know it. And it stings, but the burn is good, so fucking good, as his teeth bite harder, as if eager to make your lips bleed.

“Since… since when?” He demands, catching his breath.

“Don’t be fucking stupid. Since always,” you reply, kissing him once more, already missing the taste of his spit, the roughness of his mouth.

It’s as if oxygen was running out of the room, mind dizzy with him, his smell, his hands now attempting to reach under your t-shirt, but you move away, mouths parting for a moment. Leon stops, a question in his eyes. He knows you. He knows the way you react, can notice that he hasn’t overstepped anything, that your trembling figure is still comfortable under him.

“Just… you. Lemme… lemme touch you,” you try to explain, in a daze, hands now gripping his hips, and he groans against your ear. You take off his jacket, strong arms getting caressed while you do so. Leon breathes heavily as your fingers dance on his jaw, as your mouth licks his neck.

“Shit,” he lets out, every single pleasure point in his body reacting to your actions.

God, he has wanted you for so long. Trapped between his job and the impossibility to properly care for you, to have you in the way he actually desired you, he had promised himself to protect you. In and out of missions, a shadow always behind you. If he would have nothing else in his life, so be it. Just your presence would be enough. His heart is thumping, rattling loudly in his chest as the woman he’s adored for so long presses her affections on his skin.

He moans louder, hides his face against your shoulder. Lower, his cock twitches, rapidly filling up with desire.

“C’mon… Grind on me, Leon,” you murmur, words sweet as a spell.

God, if this was a dream he’d never want to wake up. And if he had somehow died, this was better than any Heaven he could have imagined.

“What are y—are you fucking serious?” He tries to inquire through heavy breaths, already losing his mind. It doesn’t even cross his mind if you would want to go further, if he could sink deep inside you, but rather, his brain is mush from just the idea of having you like this. Fuck it, your invitation sounds like a blessing to him.

“Please… You’re so good to me…” you add, needy.

He growls again, but in the way a wounded animal tries to scare its hunter away. He is fucking broken, deliriously split apart into a thousand pieces because of you. At your feet, drunk in your smell and your minx-like hands.

You move your pelvis, legs interlocking around his hips, the feel of your cargo pants against the hardness between his legs making you whine.

God damn. He is already hard anyway.

Leon obliges, as if enchanted by you, unable to refuse such a delicious proposal. Your hips move in tandem with his, and his hard cock aches in his pants, grinding slowly against your clothed cunt.

“Fuck,” he whines out, as your fingers then graze the skin on his back once more, deliriously making him lose his mind. “Gonna kill me, huh?”

You bite his jaw once more, wetness pooling between your legs with every moment. It is funny, how hours before the dark cabin seemed to be a cold refuge, yet now it seems to ooze warmth, sweaty bodies full of desire.

And though this Heaven seems way more than a man like him could bargain for in a hundred lives of sainthood, Leon breathes heavily, suddenly aware that this might be wrong. It might be, since you’re younger than him, and he has been your mission partner and you two work together and mission partners cannot be involved and—

“No, we—we shouldn’t…” he stills himself then, voice heavy.

You look up at him, gentle eyes blessing him from underneath his body.

God. You look so beautiful and his heart is gonna jump out of his chest and he wants to continue but you will surely agree, right? You’re too young, too soft of a creature for someone so broken like him and—

“Why?” you caress his back slowly, tilting your head.

The openness of the question throws him off his mind.

“Well, we… I mean… I…”

“We can stop if you need it,” you quickly add, nodding. You want him, yeah, but most importantly, you respect him. It is the least he has earned, after all his loyalty throughout the years.

He gulps, and shakes his head.

“No, I do want it… I just—” Leon huffs, licking his lips, still in disbelief.

“Leon… I want you. Been waiting for this… Been craving you,” you try to explain it in devotion terms, a language you’ve both shared for a while. He seems more relaxed at this, and hides his face on the crook of your neck, his breathing steadier as you stroke his back.

“I promise… Promise it’s not just about…” he begins, but you nod.

“… I know. I mean… I imagined so,” you admit, belly heating up not just from his weight on top of yours.

A confession.

He stays quiet for a moment, arms flexing as he changes his position, lets himself fall a little closer to you. It’s clear he won’t ask for it again, but god, you do want to give it to him. Boner already needy, body too vulnerable to be left like this.

Once more, you do it for him. Move your hips gently, chasing the pressure he provides against your cunt. Leon then moans, kissing your neck.

“I… I can?” he asks, tentatively.

“Yes, please.”

He won’t ask more, no need to ask twice. Though his brain may be hazy and overwhelmed by your perfume, he knows nothing could compel him to stop this, not now that he knows you want him.

Your hands return to his back, scratching the skin harshly, noticing how his breath hitches.

“Oh, god,” he coos, closing his eyes. His pelvis dancing harder against yours, movements faster.

Leon finds your mouth once again, trying to kiss his shame away since he already feels so close. In between the fact that he hadn’t had sex in a long while and the fact that, heck, it’s you… He is trying his hardest to stretch the moment, to not ruin it already…

But you do notice it, of course. When you pull apart one of your hands goes to his jaw, forcing him to look at you.

“Leon.”

“Fuc—yeah?”

“Ask me… ask me for anything you want… You deserve to feel good.”

He fucking growls at that, so entranced by your words. His hips suddenly stopping for a moment, his heartbeat accelerating.

He has almost come.

“Pull my hair, please,” he breathes out after he is sure he can continue for a bit more.

Swiftly, your hand moves to his hair, grabbing a strand at the back, near his nape and pull hard.

“Oh, fuck,” his movements are faster now, cock rubbing too harshly against his underwear and his pants but he needs it, needs you so much. You pull his hair once more, your other hand clawing at his back as you also grind against him, the spot between your legs already dampened.

The sensation feels like too much and not enough at once. It hurts from how sensitive his member is, rubbing himself raw against your legs, but oh god. You offer him the hottest sight he has had the pleasure of witnessing in his life.

He presses his face against your neck once more, panting next to your ear, unaware that he is painting your skin with his own tears.

“Gonna come… Fuck, gonna come,” he cries out, moving faster and at some point you grind against him too, pressure becoming too much as you pull his hair and, fuck.

His elbows almost give up, unable to hold himself properly on top of you, but he avoids crushing you with all his weight still, as he rides out his orgasm, now tasting the salty tears he had spilt.

Leon breathes heavily… but he doesn’t want to stop.

Quickly, his mouth sinks on your neck, kissing and biting, causing moans to leave your throat.

“Le—Leon,” you pant, body sensitive and wetness already ruining your pants.

“Need to touch you… please? Need to taste you…” he begs, and one of his hands goes to your belt, buckle released as he nears your zipper…

You groan then, in frustration, and he frowns, gaze back on your eyes.

“What is it?”

“I’m… I’m on my period,” you admit, barely a whisper.

You look at him, shame crossing your features, the bitter reminder that your body may have ruined the moment that you have dreamed about for so long. “Sorry,” you add, voice timid.

“Hey, no, no apologies,” he immediately coos, his hand travelling to cup your cheek. He looks at you with an immense softness from his glistening eyes, full of love. Leon sighs before moving forward, leaving a kiss on your forehead.

“Would you like to stop?” He asks, close to your mouth.

Your thoughts are hazy, body still churning from inside. It’s clear that you don’t want that option but you’re unsure on how to proceed under this situation.

Leon rests his forehead against you, his face awaiting for your reply. There is no rush in his tone, quite the opposite in fact. He looks at you as if willing to stare at you for his whole life, existence content with just the sight of you. That gives you more confidence, even with the threat of uncertainty on the horizon: you trust him. You trust him more than anyone else.

You shake your head.

“Good girl,” he praises you. “I’ll just make you feel good, take care of you, okay?”

His voice is raspy, but soft, resembling his touch. A little harsh, a little rough as he pulls the zipper down and wriggles your pants down. Yet the pads of his fingers are exquisitely tender, caressing your thighs. Your underwear sports a huge damp spot just in your gusset, but Leon seems blissfully willing to ignore it, even through your heavy breaths.

He moves lower, pulls your t-shirt up slowly, immediately kissing the flesh of your hips.

“Fuck,” you mutter, curving your back.

“Attagirl,” he moves to kiss the other hip, biting slowly.

You moan then, skin shivering under his motions, his touch.

“… You’re teasing.”

Leon chuckles, kissing near your navel as he rubs your sides and your arms.

“You know, I don’t hear you complaining, though.”

Ah, he is acting cocky now. You giggle, amused at his remark, while one of his hands rubs your inner thigh.

“Bet you’re so frustrated that you can’t touch more,” you shake your head, looking down at him.

“Who said I can’t touch more?” Leon says, raising his eyebrow.

“Wh—Oh,” you try to ask what he has in mind when he swiftly moves his hand straight to your cunt, rubbing your clit over your panties. “F—fuck.”

The sonofabitch… You close your eyes, body slowly tensing under his touch. Leon rubs a little faster for a moment, and you move your hips, breath hitching in your throat.

“This okay, baby?” he checks, motions slower and gentler.

“Yeah… Yeah,” you open your eyes, nodding. He looks up at you, places a kiss on your belly once more. Your hand moves to tangle in his hair, needing something to ground yourself before you get lost in him.

“I got you, I got you,” he says, gentle, so fucking gentle you could melt in his hands, as snow under a strong relentless midday sun. You sigh, trying not to overthink your situation, how at any point your body could embarrass you, end up staining your panties with blood or…

“You’re nervous,” Leon says, serious.

“I’m not,” but your voice is a little shaky.

He snarks. “Can’t make you come unless you relax… Do you trust me?” Leon moves closer, leaning forward, almost against your face once more though he never stops rubbing your clit. The motions make you delirious, contact too soft but so good… You mewl, dizzy.

“I do. I trust you.”

“Good,” he remarks, and he kisses you. You notice his hand moving from your panties to your back, his mouth biting your lips with delicacy as Leon unclasps your bra. You whine at that, but he keeps on kissing you, his presence overtly strong and reassuring on top of you. Yet he doesn’t feel overwhelming, but rather, comforting. Like a wall against which to rest, like a pouring rain after a dry summer.

You think you love him. You’re quite sure you did before, but when he moves his mouth lower, biting your jaw and licking your neck as his thumb gets lost under your panties, you’re certain that no man could ever own you in the way he does. Handling your body with the most utter softness, as if dealing with a piece of Heaven. His thumb dances between your legs, stopping just on your clit, and Leon starts circling it, again, and again, and again…

“Oh, shit,” you moan, your heartbeat racing. You can barely keep your eyes open, overwhelmed by his devotion. His touch is desperate, even more heightened by how much he licks your neck, kisses it.

“Doll, look at me,” his words are heavy and clingy.

“Ye—Yeah?” you feel so utterly broken already. Leon moves his thumb faster, the circles making you moan once more.

“Want to use my mouth, can I? Please?”

By now you don’t know what he means, but you immediately nod. Like you’d do during missions, when you would simply take a leap of faith, you let yourself jump with him, letting him guide you to wherever he deems more appropriate.

You already trust him with your life. What difference could this make?

“God… so gorgeous,” he beckons, more to himself than to you, smiling. He quickly moves your t-shirt and bra out of the way, before diving his mouth to your breasts. There, he licks, and kisses, tongue painting your nipples with his saliva, as if blessing your body with his sin, letting you shower in his desire.

“Fuck, Leon…”

He continues moving his thumb gently, and you’re about to moan when you feel his middle and ring finger dancing on your lips, toying with your entrance. “Shit” more of a complaint, your tone raspy. His thumb presses harder against your clit as the other couple of fingers keep the sweet motions, never diving inside you. The thought of him probably getting his fingers messed up with your blood crosses your mind, but then Leon bites your nipple, before lovingly pulling it between his teeth. His thumb is now moving faster, circles rougher on your most sensitive spot, as the other fingers keep teasing your opening.

Your moans are the loudest symphony filling up the room, mixed in with the way he whines, mouth obsessed with your breasts. You curl your back, your hips getting hazy and desperate as Leon increases the speed of his movements.

You wished you knew which good deed you committed in another life to be blessed in this way now. As careful as possible, you grab onto him, as your hips are now dancing against his thumb, chasing after his touch. You’re half-breathless by now. You scratch his back, his arms, sink your nails into his nape as he bites the other nipple, sucking it harshly.

“Gonna come, God….” you whine out, thighs trembling under him.

“Good… Please, come for me,” his tone is the farthest thing from a command, but it seems to drive you exactly there. The way he desires you, desires this so fucking intensely… The heat in your stomach sweeps away with everything as he licks around your nipple and his finger toys with your clit once more. You melt under his touch, coming obscenely loud for him.

And the worst thing is that he continues, his mouth hungry still, his fingers circling, rubbing up and down your abused flesh, until you cough under him, unable to whimper anymore.

“It’s… Need a pause,” you let out, barely able to utter words yet.

It feels like coming back to the surface, you think. Leon breathes loudly, panting. He kisses each boob once more, tenderly, resembling a “goodbye”. You look at his motions with half-lidded eyes, and you’re unable to move your gaze away when he detaches from your body, his hand re-emerging from your cunt with traces of your dried blood on his skin. You gasp but Leon barely notices it, rubbing the maroon strokes against his tactical pants swiftly, without any complaint, as if simply getting rid of paint after handling a canvas.

He doesn’t fucking care. A man used to dealing with death, and grim and pain. It’s not the first time that he’s felt the warmth of your blood, as he has patched you up after the most gruesome missions, as he has held your bloody hand after you cut it with a sharp glass at home. He doesn’t fucking care, but rather he feels relieved, the comfortable knowledge that, this time, the blood has nothing to do with you being hurt. This time your blood doesn’t feel like knives digging into his skin, him boiling with concern. It’s just a warm reminder that you’re safe, and alive, and that he is finally touching you in the place where’s imagined himself drowned with you a hundred times already.

This is real. Leon is not dreaming, not this time.

You breathe out, calmer, his gaze feeling like returning home.

You’re still catching your breath when he leans closer, kissing your forehead.

“You okay?” he mumbles out, concern in his tone.

“More than okay,” you smirk.

Leon chuckles, amused. He lets his body fall on top of yours, still in between your legs, and he searches for your hand: takes it in his, the thumb that so much pleasure had brought you now caressing your palm.

“Babe…” his voice is sultry, and as he moves your thighs open with his own, you immediately notice the hardness pressing against your leg. Still, the contact seems too much for him, and he whimpers against your neck, his actions devoid of any shame.

“Damn, Kennedy, again?” you tease under him, cheeky stare defying him as he looks at you.

“Mhmh,” he replies. “I understand if you don’t want me inside, but…”

You cut him off with a wheeze. “Fucking subtle you are.”

“Hey, you want me to be fucking explicit?”

“Sure, let’s hear it, big guy,” you hold his hand tighter, as if prompting him to attempt anything, but immediately his cheeks go a few shades pinker. “Ow, getting shy on me?”

“You’re being fucking cocky for someone who just had an orgasm. Maybe I should give you another one to see if you calm down,” he lets out, eyes deeply boring into yours.

“Is that the special treatment you give to the ladies you sleep with, huh?”

“No, just you,” he replies, gallant.

You can’t say you don’t want it. Leon kisses you again, his tongue licking your lips and you moan for him. He squeezes your hand as his other hand goes between your bodies, to his zipper. You can barely notice the belt unbuckled, the zipper falling down. He bites your lower lip and maneuvers his pelvis closer to yours.

Fuck it. He just wants you. Whatever the duration of that miracle is, he wants to enjoy it, to pleasure you again, to be as close as the moment allows it. Even if this was the last time in his life he has you, he would commit this sight —of you under him— to memory.

He loves you: wants to get you drunk on him, on his body. A silent conjuring, a way to win you over. Because God knows you have him wrapped around your finger, red string of yours choking him as he devours that notion, of being owned. A fucking dog on a leash, and even if that was just a mere strained rope, he’d paint it red with your blood, force all heavens and hells to make you two work, intertwined by the same unbreakable bond.

The cabin feels suffocating. Leon kisses your neck, murmurs praises against your skin. It is overwhelming, and gentle, and so much and he hasn’t even started yet. Sighing next to your cheek, he grabs your thigh, pulling your pants even lower, adjusting his covered boner just against your cunt, and your breath hitches in your throat.

“Oh, God,” you let out, squeezing his hand even harder, since he hasn’t let go of you. It is an anchor as you experience this, as the cold breeze that enters the room kisses your nipples.

“You’re still with me? I can go gentle. Just want us to feel good, won’t ask for anything more,” he asks, moving his hips slowly against you, contact electrifying even if you’re both still wearing your underwear. You nod, eagerly, and he sinks his body closer once more. You grip onto his shoulders bringing him even closer as his hips slowly dance against you.

By now, all concerns, all fears are simply gone. In the humble little moment that you’re both sharing, there is no place for anything else apart from the devotion you hold for each other. Leon kisses you, needy, as his member rubs against your clothed clit, and his mouth seems to replicate his needs, with how delirious his tongue makes you feel.

“Fuck, Leon,” you mewl, mouths parting just to breathe once more. He smirks, his eager mouth kissing your jaw, your neck.

“You don’t know how long I have waited for… for this. For you,” and the way he says it gives you goosebumps that have nothing to do with the cold air that enters the cabin.

“Leon…” you pull him closer, as close as he can be. His body is practically on top of yours, his member rubbing faster against you.

“Mine,” he asserts, remarking his words with another squeeze of his hand. The other one grabs your thigh, opens your legs more so he can lock himself even closer, grinding harder.

The air makes him dizzy, the sight of your willing body under him gets his heart wild. Fucking hell, he has already came in his pants once, is he gonna do it once more just from humping your cunt? Leon whines, the feel of your hard nipples against his t-shirt making him lose his mind. And when you touch his back again, just like earlier, he moans.

He doesn’t care what happens to this mission, doesn’t care what happens to the rest of the evils of this world as long as he can see your precious face like this, as much as he desires it. This thought pushes him forward, and he starts to move his hips faster.

“God, god, oh, shit, Le…” you whine out, his motions rough as he chases his own pleasure too. But it feels so good, even if it hurts a little, even if your soaked panties do nothing to protect your decency by now, even if period droplets are probably leaking out of your panties.

You don’t want it to ever stop. Desperate, you let your hand go from his grip and hold him against your body with abandon, fingers directly against his skin, keeping him there. Leon growls at this, understand your needs and humps you faster, biting your neck, half-breathless.

It’s such a stark contrast to the way you two always treat each other, both on the field and on your day to day. It as if now that the veil is gone, that everything has fucking snapped, there was a certain aggressiveness that needed to be let out, that was always under the surface, ramping up, eager to crawl out of you. But it’s also full of passion, as his teeth never mark you too much, and your nails don’t draw blood from his skin.

Maybe you two needed this: a love that was a little broken, a little violent. A tender purging of your sins.

A connection born out of loyalty, out of blood.

You moan loudly when his movements get messy, rhythm getting distracted.

“Please, hold it in for me?” you beg, unable to ignore the signals of his desire. “Just a little bit” you add, knowing that you just need his rough touch for a moment longer, your body still craving his magic.

Leon nods, panting.

“I’m gonna—gonna come soon,” he warns you, trying to not let his cock ruin the path of euphoria he wants you to walk.

“It’s okay, me too, Le.”

“…Fuck,” he whimpers, and you pull his hair once more, your legs hugging his hips.

His thoughts are all mush thanks to you, but he can still hear how the sweetest moans escape your mouth, so he keeps going. Too sensitive, too hard, underwear soaked, but he continues for you. At some point his member rubs against your clit, harshly, and it is too much for you.

You kiss him, moaning into his mouth as you come, panties gushing out your juices and even some more specks of blood. Your whole body spasming, unable to keep quiet.

God. His pretty angel, his pretty girl, the most deserving of eternal springs and of the most devoted love. Leon has always felt you owned him. Not trapped, but rather at peace with you. Fuck, he is certain now. You carry a fucking leash, tied around his neck and he has no choice but to follow you, stay beside you. Both a shadow and a lover, stupid smitten dog but he wants to guard you forever.

He has wanted to hung up the Moon for you since the moment he met you, so when he finally sees your blissed-out expression, the moonlight caressing your face, he feel like he deserves it.

Not just this. But you.

His cock is leaking precum, it aches, needs to let go. He pushes harder, knows that he can, because you let him, because you scratch his back and search for his mouth as he grinds harshly against you.

He comes. Hard, pouring his seed onto his boxers.

It’s as if he could die now.

Both of you sigh, slowly. Leon kisses the bitemarks on your neck, you press the pads of your fingers gently against all the scratches on his back. For a little moment, the world doesn’t breathe. Just lets the two lovers that have finally found each other revere in this contained breath.

All that needed to be said, to be done, to be pinched and purged and snapped, it’s finally out.

You caress Leon’s jaw, look at him through sleepy eyes.

“I think… Think mission partners don’t do that,” you say, voice raspy but a smile etched on your face.

Leon smiles as well, his heart overjoyed.

“Nope, they definitely don’t,” he replies, his eyes never leaving yours.

You chuckle.

“You’re okay?” You ask him, cupping his cheek and Leon closes his eyes, sighs.

“I should be asking you that, baby.”

You now have the decency to blush at the pet name. And when he opens his eyes, and kisses your palm, you feel like your chest could explode from holding so much light inside of it. Oh, he could call you anything and you’d just let him. He owns you. You’re pretty sure he does, that he painted his name with your blood on your cunt, a bloody and tender signature, marking you as his artwork, ruining you with his cum for anyone else.

“Is that pet name gonna stay?”

“Do you have any other ideas?” He asks, moving to stand up, but you giggle and pull him closer to you, your legs still holding him down. Leon wheezes.

“We can discuss pet names and the such after… a date. ‘Cos you owe me a date, Kennedy.”

“Oh, we’re really back to last names, now? Dang it,” he lets out, and you can only laugh.

He is a fucking dork. Always will be. Maybe what will be different from now onwards is that he will be yours.

That night you fall asleep in each other’s arms. Your underwear has been irreparably stained, his boxers as well, the zipper of his tactical pants does not zip up anymore. A constellation of lovebites, scratches and the remains of your period. All bloody and needy and most delicately violent.

Too rough. Too honeyed to survive you both.

Leon hugs you tightly in his arms, comfortably cuddling as if it isn’t the first time.

Maybe your bodies dreamed so much of this day that they both instinctively know how to position arms, how to tangle into each other as to breathe the other in.

Maybe no string was snapped tonight, but rather, you pulled it so much, that it sank deeper into your veins and just pulled you two impossibly closer.

If you've made it to the end, cookies for you! Also, may write more for this two, I liked the dynamic a lot. (I love soft dorky Leon, can you tell?)

[dex20]

"shameful company" — astarion

also on ao3. pt. 4 of series (don't) lose your head

pairing : astarion/oc (m!durge) word count : 7.3k content : mentions of canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, gratuitous fluff, wound care, applying stitches, bathing/washing, (astarion's) trauma and introspection, healing and establishing boundaries, intimacy and touch starvation, falling in love, named tav/durge with lore

The suite above the inn was strangely quiet compared to the floor below. Boisterous laughter and shouting from drunkards carried up the stairs and yet none dared to actually walk up there. Word of the murder that occurred in the spare room spread like wildfire throughout the city, and understandably, the average tavern-goer tried to avoid anything that would find themselves at the business end of a dagger.

Especially when there’s now a fresh trail of blood leading up to those double doors for the second week in a row.

As for inside the suite, it certainly looked like another altercation had occurred. Sanguine pools stained the quaint setup of rugs and pillows in the middle pit, which was also now strewn about. The floor was littered with bandages, potions, and some rather crude medical instruments spilling out of an adventurer’s pack — the owner of which sat near the hearth, a sheen of sweat covering his furrowed brow as he worked diligently. The barkeep could clean up the mess, for all he cared. He’s far too occupied with tending to his lover’s wounds to worry about anything else.

The two exchange no words, unless you count the tiefling’s quiet gasp and muffled prayer upon bearing witness to the grisly wound marring the other man’s flesh.

Though he delighted in a bit of goriness, the sight of his already low supply of blood pooling out of his own leg was admittedly something Astarion did not plan on happening today. Or ever, preferably.

For now, he sits feeling rather exposed, his right leg bent at the knee and breeches pulled down to his ankles as Niraeniel carefully dabs at the frightful-looking gash tearing through the flesh of his thigh with a damp cloth. Astarion grits his teeth, hissing through the burn of vinegar being doused onto the nerve endings of his skin. He counts himself lucky that the tonic Nir just about poured down his throat earlier had blunted the worst of the pain, but he could still feel the deep chill seeping into the meat of his thigh. It was like a ravine of ache and dull agony.

Astarion lets out an exhale of relief upon noticing the bleeding has ceased for the most part, silently thankful that the injury wasn’t nearly as severe as he thought. Astarion leans back against the wall, watching idly as Niraeniel cleans the wound, though not exactly at him — his eyes can’t seem to focus on anything in particular, feeling somewhat faint from how much blood he’s lost.

Nir pulls away briefly to reach for his suturing supplies, and for a moment Astarion isn’t so confident in his decision to let the tiefling anywhere near him with a needle and thread. He’d never even mentioned having any medical skill until today, simply leaving the duty to Shadowheart just like everyone else in their rag-tag group.

The vampire stops Niraeniel short when he reaches for his leg, placing his hand over the cautious grip bracing his thigh.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Astarion says, words nearly a whisper from the strained sound of his voice.

Niraeniel shakes his head in response, swatting his hand away. “Would you rather I left you there to bleed out?”

“I’ve done the same to you before, haven’t I?”

“Yes, well, you make it quite difficult to stay mad at you.”

Astarion huffs, but still relents, relaxing back into the wall with his head turned away. Niraeniel shifts closer to him once more, tapping his knee softly to get his attention. “Could you tilt your leg a bit, ‘Star?”

The vampire glances at him from the corner of his eye for a short moment but says nothing in acknowledgement, simply slanting his leg in compliance so that Nir can get a better look. Even though he knows his lover is purposefully looking away, Niraeniel still smiles softly at him. He leans down to the examine the wound closer, taking hold of the other’s lower thigh again. The gash isn’t terribly long nor deep, but it still cuts scarily close to the major artery within Astarion’s thigh.

“Huh. Certainly a strange angle to go at …”

“Do you actually plan on helping or are you just going to gawk at me where the sun doesn’t shine?” Astarion snarls at him, but his ragged speak betrays his tone, sounding more like doubt than disdain.

The tieflings sighs, “Please, I really don’t have the patience to argue with you right now.”

With his free hand, Niraeniel intertwines his fingers with Astarion’s, and the gesture immediately pulls his gaze back to the man before him. Astarion finally notices the look of genuine concern marking his lover’s features, and his own expression softens at the sight, feeling a pang of guilt for acting coldly. Astarion’s eyes then follow down to their hands clasped together, and he offers a gentle squeeze in acknowledgement. “Fine, then. I suppose I’m in no position to be fighting again so soon, either.”

Niraeniel chuckles at that, and the sound is sweet enough to even tug the corners of Astarion’s mouth into a weak smile.

“Just sit back. I’ve got you, I promise,” Niraeniel murmurs reassuringly.

As if his words weren’t enough to swallow, Astarion nearly freezes when the other man leans in to press a quick kiss to his cheek. Normally, he’d try to deflect this nauseating amount of tenderness, but for now he’s content to do exactly as asked, letting his eyes flutter shut as Niraeniel continues to tend to his wounds.

With a careful hand, he guides a needle through the tip of the driver from the suturing kit and the braces the edge of the gash with the forceps in his other hand. Astarion hisses when he feels the needle dig into his skin, and although there’s no direct pain thanks to the potion he drank earlier, the mere sensation of the needle pulling through his flesh is uncomfortable to say the least.

Still, he watches intently as Niraeniel knits the skin back together, tying knots in the catgut thread to secure it in place before cutting the excess string and making his way down the gash to repeat the process.

Astarion clears his throat. “So, may I at least ask how you learned to treat wounds like this?”

Niraeniel hums passively at the question, too fixated on making precise movements to look up at the vampire. “It came with my career, honestly. I usually work alone, so I had time to practice on myself.” His nose wrinkles at the memory, remembering how excruciatingly painful it was to stitch his own injuries back up after a few close calls — and the times he witnessed the same reaction from siblings in arms when there were no healing potions left to spare. He continues, “But sometimes they’d pair me with younger recruits who made a habit of biting off more than they could chew. It became a rather important skill.”

“I see,” Astarion muses, his thoughts immediately drifting to the worst possible scenarios. “Has anyone died under your care?”

“Not necessarily. I try my best, but I’m not a cleric. Some wounds cut deeper beyond normal ability.” Niraeniel’s words seem to trail off, an uncomfortable silence hanging in the air as his own mind begins to spiral. He immediately shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the creeping memories. “But you’re not at risk of passing prematurely right now, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

Astarion lets out a dramatic sigh, clutching a hand over his unbeating heart theatrically. “Oh, thank the Gods, I was worried about my obituary sounding too boring. ‘Stabbed in the femoral artery by a lunatic gnome’ is a rather dull way to go out, don’t you think?”

“You jest, but count yourself lucky she missed the mark. A cut there could have bled you out in minutes.”

The vampire huffs bitterly in response, quickly dropping the act. He appears rather deep in thought now, if the serious expression pursing his face served as any indication.

Satisfied with the other’s silence and his own needlework, Niraeniel pats his knee before pulling away to grab a small jar of ointment. Astarion winces from how cold the cream is, but decides it would be a poor idea to complain. He simply breathes in deep, shifting his position now that he doesn’t have to sit frozen in place.

He gazes up at the ceiling, finally stable enough to reflect on the events that transpired today. They’d been ambushed by a group of Bhaalists while taking a shortcut through a park, of all the damned places. Luckily, he was able to react quickly, opening throats with his dual daggers with a terrifying level of finesse. Though admittedly, he did get a bit ahead of himself, tunnel vision set on taking out the archer above — it left the group exposed from behind, which might have been a fatal mistake for Niraeniel if Astarion hadn’t swooped in to take the blow for him.

Astarion swallows, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. On one hand, yes, he does feel rather stupid for redirecting the attacker’s swing to an equally lethal area on his body, but on the other …

He remembers the wide-eyed look of fear on his lover’s face as he staggered backwards to avoid the figure behind him, and the even more dramatic look of horror upon watching Astarion proceed to tackle the perpetrator to the ground. Niraeniel was rarely, if ever, caught by surprise — Astarion calls to mind the night he was crouched over the other’s unconscious body, just about to sink his teeth into the poor tiefling’s exposed neck before he stirred awake right in time. There was no look of panic, nor a startled scream. Just a disconcertingly straight face as he scrambled to pull out his boot-knife and then held it to the vampire’s throat.

Although the details remain hazy considering the bloodthirsty frenzy Astarion was in, he remembers Niraeniel being just as quiet when he took his last breath, offering little more than a strangled cry and weak scratch at the vampire’s shoulder before falling limp in his arms.

Astarion panicked to find a solution at first, but if he’s being perfectly honest, he wasn’t particularly moved by the loss. He’d only known the man for a day or two, after all. Although, there was something tragically beautiful about the scene he had caused — Blood dribbled down his chin, and he felt the warmth of it both on his skin and surging through his body. He was lost in the comfort of it all, until the eerie silence from the body beneath his pulled him back to reality.

The fond memory lingered in his mind for a while, until he started growing closer and closer to the man, their relationship eventually spinning into something far more intense than either would have imagined. What Astarion feels for Nir runs far deeper than body and blood, and the thought of the tiefling’s bloodied cadaver staring lifelessly at him again is sickening. It was motivation enough to throw his own life into danger.

Before Astarion can drown in his own morbid musing, a quick tug to the pointed tip of his ear snaps him out of his mind. His head jerks down to meet eyes with a very distressed looking Niraeniel.

“Astarion?”

“Yes, dearest?”

Niraeniel immediately flicks his forehead, earning a forced yet unenthusiastic ‘ow’ from the vampire. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You had me worried sick for a minute there.”

“Terribly sorry about that,” Astarion replies, feigning nonchalance. “Lounging by the fireplace like this is rather cozy. Can you blame me for nodding off?”

The tiefling tuts at the blatant lie, shaking his head in disapproval. He doesn’t comment on it any more though, resuming with the task at hand. He carefully wraps the injured leg in a cloth bandage, dressing layer by layer. “What happened back there, anyway? I thought we agreed to stick together.”

“And that’s what I was doing. I spotted her sneaking up from behind. She would have stabbed you if I hadn’t intervened,” Astarion explains, hunching over slightly to lean in close to Nir’s face.

“Is that supposed to comfort me? I’ve been on the giving and receiving end of some pretty serious injuries. You don’t need to protect me.”

Astarion huffs out a laugh of disbelief that they’re even having this conversation. “And just what was I supposed to do instead? Stand there and let it happen?” His tone is packed with a bite, but behind it there’s an ache of concern. He sighs deeply, “Hells, is it really so inconceivable that I don’t want to see you hurt?”

Niraeniel searches his lover’s gaze, but there’s no hint of deceit reflected in his ruby eyes. Just raw honesty.

“I understand that. But I could say the same thing about you.”

They’re both left quiet again for an uncomfortable few seconds in time before Niraeniel finally snips off the extra material of the bandaging and pins the end of the wrapping around Astarion’s thigh securely. “There,” he starts, pushing off of his knees to stand. “Now the worst is taken care of, at least. Do you think you’re able to stand?”

Astarion shrugs and reaches for the tiefling’s hand, trying to lift himself off of the floor until he grunts in pain and falls back on his rear from putting pressure onto his wounded leg.

Niraeniel can’t help but laugh at the tumble, quickly kneeling back down beside the vampire who’s now staring daggers into him. “Okay, okay, maybe not so soon,” he sputters out, reaching into his pack for a vial of red liquid. He pops the cork of it open, holding it up to Astarion’s mouth. “Could you drink this, please?”

Astarion raises an eyebrow skeptically. Although he trusts Nir fully, he would still prefer to know what he’s about to ingest before taking a swig. “First of all, what is it?”

“Rogue’s Morsel, Balsam, and Mergrass. Don’t worry, it’s just something to hasten the healing process.”

The vampire nods slowly in understanding, letting his body sink back onto the floor once more as he tries to release the tension building up inside of him. He reaches for the vial, but Nir gently pushes his hand away.

“Don’t,” he insists, pressing the rim of the glass to Astarion’s lips. “I’ll take care of you.”

Astarion scrunches his nose, pulling away from the other’s touch despite the feelings at the base of his mind screaming at him to give in for once. “Ugh, I’m not helpless, you know. I don’t need you to dote on me.”

Niraeniel shakes his head. “Maybe so, but you don’t need to carry everything on your own, and I’d love to help you. Just let me try.”

“Help me? You’ve already done enough, what makes you think —“

“Nothing at all, barring the fact that you almost bled to death on me,” Niraeniel cuts him off, a sneering edge to his voice. “But … it runs deeper than that. I know you don’t like relying on anyone for anything. It’s admiral to be independent, but not when you’re hiding on purpose.”

Astarion’s mouth parts to bark back in protest, but before he can start, Nir interrupts him once more, “And you should know well by now that you don’t need to hide from me. Not even your at your worst.”

The vampire is rightfully stilled, eyes widening as he stares at the man with a mix of wonder and horror from being read so thoroughly — he’s an open book before him, tattered edges and all. He lets out a deep sigh, wearily accepting the fact that it would be foolish to keep pretending Niraeniel couldn’t see right through him. “I’m just not used to … all of this. I can’t even remember the last time someone treated me like you do.”

“Good thing I’m here for you now, then,” Nir replies. He brings the vial to Astarion’s lips once more, quietly thankful that the vampire finally relents and parts his mouth. Carefully, Niraeniel brings his free hand up to Astarion’s face, cupping his jaw and tilting it upwards ever so lightly. He rubs his thumb over the elf’s cheekbones as the red liquid trickles into his mouth, emptying the glass of its contents.

“Was that so hard?” Nir teases, smiling softly once Astarion is finished drinking from the glass. The tiefling then discards the vial, paying no mind to the way it rolls across the floor — far too busy with brushing a stray curl behind Astarion’s ear to care.

“If it were anyone else, yes. But you have quite the knack for hospitality, my dear.” Astarion’s tongue darts out over his bottom lip, savoring the taste of the elixir he just drank. “Did you mix that yourself?”

Nir hums in affirmation. “It’s nothing special. I’m surprised the flavor wasn’t horrible, though. Those ingredients tend to be a bit, ah, bitter.”

Without thinking any better of it, his eyes trail down to the vampire’s sanguine-stained lips — a mistake Astarion quickly notices.

The vampire chuckles softly, finding his partner’s habit of wordless admiration to be quite endearing. “Oh? Are you looking for a taste as well?”

“Of you? Always.”

Without missing even a heartbeat, he leans in to lock mouths with Astarion, nipping playfully at his lower lip. He was right — the taste is pleasantly earthy, though there’s a faint hint of iron mixed in, no doubt the remnants of blood from Astarion’s earlier snacking.

When Nir begins to pull away, Astarion weakly reaches up to tug on the collar of his shirt to draw him right back in to the kiss. His hand falters not a moment after, brushing against the bare skin of the other’s chest peeking out from the neckline of his garment before falling back into place on his lap. He grumbles at his own tenuousness, uneasy at the concept feeling so utterly weak in front of another person — both physically and emotionally, in his dreadful case.

It’s always with him, Astarion thinks to himself, He’ll be the death of me yet.

Nir observes the failed affection, and immediately backs away, nervous that he did something to upset his lover. “Is there something wrong?”

“Oh, no, not really,” Astarion responds rather sarcastically, “just that I’m currently lacking the strength to so much as touch you.” He rolls his eyes as if to shrug off the issue, though the distracted look in his gaze is enough to signal his disappointment.

Nir laughs, “Numbing will do that to you. I would offer to sit on your lap if you’re really looking to get close, but …” The tiefling trails off, choosing to gesture vaguely towards Astarion’s damaged leg instead.

“Mocking a feeble man now, are you? That’s quite cruel, even by my standards,” Astarion teases, pretending to be offended.

“Oh, hush. You’ll be fine come daylight.” Nir presses a finger to his lips, letting it linger there for a moment while he’s lost in thought. “Would it help if you fed from me?”

Astarion tilts his head, a rather uncharacteristically adorable gesture for such a sharp-edged man. “I didn’t want to ask since you also lost a decent amount of blood from that fight, but if you’re offering …”

Niraeniel nods, immediately beginning to fumble with the buttons on his shirt and letting the fabric fall to his arms, tilting his chin up to bare his neck. Though his skin is a dark grey tone, the freckles dotting his arms seem to twinkle under the glow of the hearth’s fire.

The sudden gesture surprises Astarion, delightfully amused by how ready the other man is to offer his own life force. “Careful now, dear. If anyone were to walk in on us right now, they would think you were trying to seduce me.”

“Just bite me before I change my mind.”

“Ah, you’re such a sweetheart,” Astarion quips with a cheeky wink before diving right in — his fangs descending on their usual target on Niraeniel’s neck, tearing through the dual puncture marks that just begun to heal. Nir yelps at the sudden pain, but wraps his arms around Astarion to pull him closer anyway. The vampire makes a strange sound of approval somewhere between a moan and a low hum, sipping greedily at his neck. But this time, just like every night after the tiefling had first offered him sustenance, he releases his bite before the sanguine satisfaction can cloud his thoughts.

Astarion’s eyelids flutter closed as he slouches forward, nuzzling the top of his head into the crook of Niraeniel’s neck. He sighs contently, finding the strength in his arms to return his partner’s embrace.

“Thank you,” the vampire murmurs softly, rubbing circles into the other’s back to soothe the pain.

Niraeniel nods, “Of course. Though … I have to ask, what do I taste like? A mouthful of blood like that only has smack of iron to me.”

“It does? That’s a pity.” Astarion finally withdraws from the hug to examine his own gory handiwork. ”The flavor is bit hard to describe, though — everyone has their unique taste, but yours is particularly enigmatic. Like a lush full-bodied wine, though there’s a delectable hint of raspberries and dark chocolate.”

“Aww, now I almost feel like I’m missing out. Almost.”

“On being a vampire?” Astarion questions. “Trust me, darling, the list of quirks is far shorter than what you’ll lose. Besides, I would certainly miss this,” he purrs, referring to the warmth of the tiefling’s skin by the way he’s now tracing a finger down his arm.

“Your touch has never bothered me,” admits Niraeniel, disguising a shiver elicited from Astarion’s cold, clammy caress as a slight shrug not a second later. He is telling the truth, though. No matter how his body reacts out of initial instinct, he still longs for more.

“Hmph. I can’t say I’ve ever heard that before. Not with my clothes still on, at least.” Astarion finishes his sentence with a chuckle to lighten the mood just a little bit, but the attempt falls flat from how utterly despondent he sounds.

“There’s many more ways to be intimate with someone beyond that.” To emphasize his point, Nir takes the other’s wandering hand into his own and brings it to rest over his heart.

Astarion glances up at him questioningly, but is quickly distracted by the steady beating just beneath his palm. He lets his hand flatten out against the bared chest, focusing on the thick texture of the ridges lining Nir’s skin underneath his fingertips and the slow rise and fall of his chest with each breath he takes. He’s so very alive, so full of warmth and a hidden kind of radiance only ever revealed during tender moments like this.

Only ever revealed to me, Astarion realizes.

He closes his eyes, still fixated on the thrum of his lover’s heart. “I know,” he starts, “It’s more a matter of not really knowing how, I suppose. Cazador never let me hold onto any of my conquests longer than what was necessary. Which, admittedly, felt like a small mercy at times.”

Nir gently squeezes his hand in a silent sort of understanding, a solemn expression on his face. There’s a darkness that quells within him — that familiar drive to maim and murder, and for once he doesn’t chase it away. He may not have suffered what Astarion has, but he’s going to delight in ripping Cazador to shreds for what he’s done anyway. He almost gets lost in his own grisly imagination before Astarion’s touch drags him back — a soft, unintentional tap to his sternum.

Nir bows his head, both out of sympathy and his own shame. “I may not be able to take away your past, but I can promise you that it’ll be a cold day in Avernus before I let anything happen to you again.” He notices Astarion crack an eye open at this, and so the tiefling holds his gaze firmly. “I don’t know how either, as you’ve probably gathered by now. But I’d love to learn, as long as that’s what you want as well. We don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

As be begins to pull away, Astarion immediately clutches at his shoulder, rooting him in place. “Wait. Wait. Gods, if there’s anyone I’m going to be this close with, I …”

He stops himself, turning his head away rather bashfully, appearing more like a smitten schoolboy than a man of his age. “I want it to be you,” Astarion finally adds, words tumbling out as little more than a whisper.

The confession hangs in the air between them for a long moment before Nir exhales slowly, relief flooding through him. "Astarion," he says quietly, reaching up to carefully brush the back of his knuckles along Astarion’s flushed cheek, tracing the line of his jaw before cupping his face in both hands. "We'll have to figure this out together, won’t we?”

Astarion’s eyes soften as he studies Niraeniel's profile, taking in every little detail — the tired look in his eyes, to the way strands of white hair fall in his face, and how his hands tremble ever so slightly, like the tiefling is scared of shattering him if he holds on too tightly. It's clear to see how much effort Niraeniel puts into caring for Astarion’s comfort first and foremost, and that kindness alone fills the vampire with a warmth he hasn’t felt in far, far too long — if ever.

Without any further thought, Astarion crashes his lips against Nir’s, a sense of urgency and need fueling the kiss. Astarion wraps his arms around him, letting himself fall back onto the floor below while pulling Niraeniel down with him. He can’t help but grin against his mouth, fangs grazing against his lower lip ever so slightly. Their teeth knock together, but neither seem to care, happily hurried and messy with their affections.

Niraeniel finally parts to take a deep breath and re-adjust his position so that he’s straddling Astarion’s waist, his hands now on either side of the vampire’s head in order to keep himself up while he drapes his body over the other’s. He lowers his head back down again, meeting Astarion’s lips in another deep kiss. Astarion’s own hands travel up the tiefling’s back, eliciting a shiver which he chuckles at. His fingers tangle into his long white hair, untying the ponytail in the back of it so that Niraeniel’s hair now cascades downward, tickling Astarion’s cheeks.

Nir slowly begins to trail his lips down to his jaw, but doesn’t actually kiss him yet, instead pausing in place just a few centimeters away. “Is this okay? Can I kiss you here?”

“Do you really need to ask that?”

“Always better to make sure,” Niraeniel responds, but still doesn’t budge.

Astarion rolls his eyes teasingly. “Yes that’s perfectly fine.”

At his word, the tiefling resumes his ministrations, leaving kisses across his cheeks and jawline. They’re quick and chaste, little more than hurried dabs before moving onto the next area, nuzzling into the crook of Astarion’s neck.

“What about here,” Niraeniel questions, “Is this okay?”

“You don’t need to ask for my approval for every little thing,” Astarion sighs out. Although he feigns sounding irritated, it couldn’t be further from the truth — his lover’s insistence on consent is rather endearing, and a sharp departure from what he’s used to. No one has ever payed that much attention to his wants and needs — far too eager to take until there’s nothing left of his body and mind to give. And yet Niraeniel refuses to even move a muscle until Astarion gives his explicit agreement.

“But … yes.”

Astarion can feel the corners of the man’s lips curl up as they press against his throat, tracing the curve of his Adam’s apple. He can feel his breath upon his neck, close to the permanent bite scars that mark his flesh, and the sensation makes him quiver ever so slightly.

Content with his reaction, Niraeniel sits back up, peering down at Astarion from above. “You need a bath,” he comments, brushing a curl back behind his ear.

“Are you saying I’m dirty?”

“Maybe,” Nir says with a devious smile.

Astarion scrunches his nose but still grins back, nudging the other’s arm playfully in retaliation.

“Hey, we’ve both had a long day,” the tiefling adds in defense of himself. “But … would you let me take care of you?”

“Didn’t you just?”

“No, I mean, would you, ah —” His words trail off as he thinks of how to best propose his question, unable to meet Astarion’s eyes. “Would you let me help you bathe?”

Astarion blinks, quirking an eyebrow from both confusion as well as suspicion of Niraeniel’s intentions.

“I won’t be getting in with you,” Nir clarifies, shaking his head. “I can wash off later. This is purely about spoiling you.”

“Mm-hmm,” Astarion hums, now in deep imagination about the idea of being washed by someone else. It’s a sickeningly sweet and vulnerable concept, something more suitable for a happily married couple instead of the strange bond between them that neither man has bothered to put a proper name to. Still, the thought is a welcome one, especially if it means getting to be spoiled like royalty. “An invitation to be pampered by a sweet boy such as yourself? I must be dreaming.”

“Is that so?” Niraeniel questions, already swinging his leg off of Astarion’s waist so he can stand. “You’ll have to tell me all about what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, then.”

Astarion pushes his back up from the ground as well, moving back into a sitting position. “Well, it starts with you sweeping me off my feet and carrying me like a princess over to the washroom, since it’d be terrible if I had to move my leg again so soon.”

“Surely you’re joking? You probably weigh above four stones more than I do,” Niraeniel complains, gesturing up and down to his own short stature. The vampire has over twenty five centimeters on him in height, which isn’t a terrible disparity, but Nir is rather weak.

Astarion follows the other’s hand movements, drinking in the full sight of him toweing above his sitting form. “Ah, that’s true. I suppose you’ll just have to figure something else out then, won’t you, darling?”

Nir grumbles in response, but his tone is distinctly light-hearted. “Alright, but if I drop you, then the blame is all yours.”

“I can live with that.”

Niraeniel shifts into a crouching position and hooks an arm underneath the crook of Astarion’s knees and wraps his other arm around his back. He murmurs a cantrip under his breath — a simple spell to temporarily amplify the strength in his grasp, just for a handful of time. He takes a sharp inhale before beginning to lift the vampire’s body with a near-effortless amount of ease. The man still weighs down his back, but at the very least, he’s secure in his arms.

Astarion’s breath hitches when he realizes he’s actually being picked up bridal-style, as he expected Nir to simply let him lean on his shoulder and limp side-by-side. Yet here he is now, nearly curled up into a fetal position and held close to the other man’s chest by his warm embrace. His knee-jerk reaction is to demand to be let down immediately, but he’s unable to muster the strength to speak those words.

And that’s when he finally understands just how utterly weak he is in his lover’s presence. How Niraeniel lets him drop his strength at the door — no, how he encourages him to do so. He’s broken down the vampire’s carefully constructed walls only to build them back up again twice as strong around the two of them. There’s no need for him to let go of this feeling of safety like he has so many times before. This comfort isn’t ephemeral — it clings to him much in the same way he’s now wrapping his arms tightly around Niraeniel’s neck, wondering if it’s possible to melt into someone else.

Slowly, he peeks his eyes open once more, peering up at his partner’s face who’s already smiling down at him.

“Aren’t you just adorable,” Niraeniel teases, pressing a kiss to the vampire’s forehead.

Astarion rolls his eyes. “Paint a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Niraeniel knows it’s a playful jab, but responds in earnest anyway, “I think not. The real thing is much better.”

Once inside the washroom, Nir gently sets the man down on stool tucked into the corner. Now kneeling beside Astarion, he places his hands on either side of his shoulders, grabbing his attention. “Do you need help, you know, getting undressed?”

Astarion ponders the question for a moment, not entirely sure of his own answer. He loves Niraeniel dearly, trusting that he would never hurt him, but the thought of someone else’s hands reaching to undress his body again …

Astarion shakes his head. “I appreciate the thought, but no. I think I’d be more comfortable doing that part myself, for now.”

Niraeniel nods, releasing his grip on the other’s shoulders. “Of course. I’ll keep my back turned. When the water is ready, I’ll let you know, athough I’m not entirely sure how you’re going to get over to the tub on your own …”

The vampire chuckles. “Always worried about me, hm? I’m sure I’ll be fine crawling just a meter or two.”

Niraeniel smiles back at him, ruffling up Astarion’s hair before rising to his feet. “By your orders, my liege,” he says sarcastically, offering a dramatic bow before turning to the tub. The tiefling kneels at the edge of the basin and turns the on the faucet, letting it fill with water. He reaches a hand out to let the water run over it, testing the temperature and then adjusting it to be just a little bit hotter than what would be comfortable for most, mindful of the fact that Astarion doesn’t feel heat quite as strongly.

Once satisfied, he pushes himself off the ground once more, walking over to the nearby cabinets. He sorts through the shelves, looking through the assortment of soaps and vials stocked so considerately by the roomkeeper. “What do you want to smell like? Bergamot, vanilla, lavender? Or something spicy, perhaps?”

Astarion hums thoughtfully, still busy with removing his clothes. “I’m not sure. I’m quite fond of bergamot, but I already have that mixed into my perfume,” he muses. Astarion finishes unlacing his braies, letting the article pool onto the floor with the rest of his rather elaborate get-up.

He remembers when he bought it — the group had stopped at an armory to stock up on better gear that wasn’t nearly tearing at the seams from how much use it had seen. Niraeniel had offered his own coin to buy a costly set the vampire had his eyes on. There was no use arguing with him — he was wholly satisfied to see how the fit looked while Astarion was modeling it, a content smile on his face while he helped to adjust the leather padding of the coat. Astarion just stood there rather awkwardly, if a bit tense, caugh up in the careful touch of his companion’s hands across his body. He’s certainly not used to be fussed over in that way, and although he adores it coming from Niraeniel, he couldn’t quite shake the nagging thought of when the comforting contact would warp into something cold and cruel.

But it never did.

He wanted to lift the other man into his arms and kiss him until he was breathless just as much as he wanted to run and hide from the uncharted territory.

Astarion looks over at him now, watching as Niraeniel continues to rummage through the cabinet, the sound of glasses clinking together and getting knocked over competing with the rush of the water filling the basin. The tiefling never once peers back to get an eyeful of Astarion’s barren form, just as he promised, too caught up in reading the labels on each bottle and bar to care about much else. The sight makes something within Astarion’s chest stir — like the beating of a heart, if his memory serves him correctly. Like the gust of a balmy breeze in a land where wind hasn’t blown in centuries.

He think he’s just about lost his mind when he begins to laugh. It’s an honest-to-gods giggle, a carefree sort of sound unburdened by the weight of today, or yesterday, or the centuries before that.

Niraeniel begins to turn his head in confusion, but quickly stops himself short. “Uh, Astarion? Are you feeling alright?”

“Oh, I couldn’t be better, my dear. Trust me,” Astarion responds, still grinning like an idiot. ���Anyway, what’s your favorite scent? We’ll go with that.”

“It’s … mugwort. Are you sure?”

“As ever,” Astarion purrs. He can’t tell if he means the soap or is asking for reassurance about his mood, but regardless, it’s a resounding yes.

Niraeniel heaves a deep sigh, allowing his shoulders to sag slightly. “Maybe I should have brought you to a cleric to begin with,” he adds, letting out a soft laugh of his own. He plucks the mugwort-scented bar of soap from the shelf, as well as a few other toiletries — a bottle of conditioner, a soft rag, and a towel for later. After turning back to the tub to set the supplies down, he turns the faucet off and reaches an arm into the water, swirling it around. “Perfect. Now it’s your turn to drag yourself over here, I’m afraid.”

“No. Carry me.”

“What?”

“You heard me the first time, darling.”

“I — I didn’t know if you’d be comfortable with that,” Niraeniel admits, “Since you’re, well, naked.” The tiefling still doesn’t turn his head, choosing to remain kneeling by the bathtub.

Astarion shrugs, even though he knows the other man can’t see him. “I didn’t know if I would be either. But I’ve come to find that I feel safe with you,” he explains, trying not to focus on the lump forming in his throat. “I know you’re trying to tread carefully for my sake, so … I trust that you’re not going to do anything to upset me. Not on purpose.”

The tiefling dips his head in understanding, closing his eyes. “I’m glad. We’ll try, but as I’ve said so many times before — if something doesn’t feel right, you need to tell me. Please.”

“I don’t think anything could feel wrong, as long as I’m with you,” Astarion responds, his voice now sounding raw like he hadn’t spoken in years, honesty wearing through his tone. “Now, are you going to lift me again, or not?”

Niraeniel laughs, already beginning to stand and turn without missing a beat. He can now see the vampire’s coiled form in the corner, his knees drawn up to his chest out of modesty. There’s absolutely nothing arousing about the scene, though — what lays in front of him is not just a body, but a person — his lover. He picks Astarion up again with ease, eyes never leaving each other’s gaze, like an exchange of unspoken words only they understand.

To Astarion, it’s a promise of protection. He feels so utterly exposed like this, and yet the way Nir stares past the surface and into something far deeper within him feels like being wrapped in silks and linens — a new and terrifying kind of way to be known by another soul, but ever-so-comforting to know that he doesn’t need to hide from it.

Astarion whines as he’s being gently lowered into the water, already missing the tender skinship. Still, he allows himself to relax fully, focusing on the warmth of the bath enveloping his body.

“Feels good?” Nir asks, beginning to dip the rag into the water and lather it with the bar of soap.

“If you told me I died and woke up in the heavens, I’d probably believe you.” Astarion smiles at the thought, letting his head roll back onto the lip of the basin and eyes blink shut in bliss.

“Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re stuck with me for a little while longer.” Once the rag is soapy enough, the tiefling taps softly on Astarion’s shoulder, the gesture making the vampire open his eyes just enough to peer back questioningly.

“May I?” Niraeniel asks, gesturing to other’s shoulders which are peeking out of the water.

Astarion nods. “You may.”

His eyes flutter closed again as Nir begins to brush the rag against his body, surprised at himself for not flinching out of impulse. It … feels quite nice, actually, Astarion thinks, as the feather-light grazes across his skin washing away all of the dirt and blood from their earlier battle. He can certainly smell the mugwort, the bitter sage-like scent filling the air he breathes.

“You know, mugwort is technically a psychoactive herb,” Niraeniel recalls, reaching across to lift the other man’s arm, spreading soap down the length of it. “Not a particularly strong one at all, but it’s still used often to induce a mild feeling of euphoria.”

“Is that why you drink it?”

“Indeed. It tends to help with my nightmares too. Not that you’d need it for that reason, considering you only need to trance.”

Astarion hums in acknowledgement. “I can sleep if I want to, although staying unconscious for nearly seven hours straight doesn’t sound like something I’d trade for.” He leans forward, allowing Nir’s hand to travel from his arm down to his back, scrubbing away at the skin there. “But it’d certainly be a nice excuse to stay in bed with you for a little while longer.”

Maybe the mugwort is fueling his mood somewhat, but Astarion almost feels as though he’s floating. Being treated so tenderly by someone else — it’s almost overwhelming, like Niraeniel’s touch is liquid fire and he could burn up any minute now. He’s grateful that his head is bowed in this position, otherwise his lover would most certainly notice the tears beginning to well at the corners of his eyes.

Tears. Tears. Not from distress or any other negative reason, but from complete and utter absolution, releasing the agony from over two hundred years without any kind touch, little by little.

Unexpectedly, Niraeniel tilts Astarion’s head back up, about to begin lathering soap into the vampire’s hair. Just like Astarion had anticipated, the man immediately catches sight of a fat tear rolling down his pale cheek, dripping into the water below. But before he can even begin to pull away, Astarion grabs the other’s hand and holds it firmly in place.

“Keep going. Please.”

Niraeniel’s mouth merely hangs open, frozen and unsure of what to say or do in the face of his lover when he’s like this.

Astarion chuckles at the sight, shaking his head before wiping his own eyes. “They’re good tears, my sweet. Don’t worry.”

The tiefling is silent for a moment longer, still questioning Astarion’s honesty. He looks for any telltale signs of detachment — a far off stare, dialated pupils, twitching ears — but there is none. Astarion wants this. With a kind smile, Niraeniel cautiously leans forward, slow enough that Astarion can lean away if he needs to, but he never does.

Instead, the vampire meets him half-way, pressing their lips together gently. There’s no hunger in the way he kisses him now, or at least none in his usual way. Simply a chaste affection and an aching to be shared, to be known and tasted, not as a body, but as something beyond the physical realm entirely. An aching to be loved.

And as the tiefling responds with a lighthearted giggle, already beginning to run the conditioner through his curls and massage his scalp with deft fingers — all the while peppering kisses over every inch of his face — Astarion begins to realize how much he aches to love him back.

hi i barely use this website anymore (mostly on twt here and here) but i want to get this fic out there more because i'm v proud of this part in particular!

for now — likes, reblogs, and feedback are greatly appreciated! thank you so much for reading this far!