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morallyinept · 8 months

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Pedro Boys & Sex Sounds

Clearly, I have thought about this waaaay too much. Thoughts. Thots? Head canons… I dunno what this is. Lack of an actual life? 🤔 Quite possibly.

But I hope you get a giggle out of it nonetheless. 🖤

☝🏻I'll mention that this is probably NSFW... it's kinda tame-ish, but just incase.

Joel Miller - Grunter.

Joel is a rabid grunter. Oh yeah. Grunts, snarls, snorts, you name it. But he's not infected. You're safe. Just sounds likes he is when they roll and rumble out of him. Right in your ear so he makes sure you can hear what you do to him, darlin'. Joel's also a bit of a goer. He can last pretty good. But due to his advancing years, he can soften quickly, but he stays harder for longer if you're on top grinding onto your big guy. Then he gets to look up at you and those grunts, man. They just snuffle endlessly out of his nose and into your face as you lean forward to kiss him. Overuses the word 'fuck' when he comes. Fuck yeah... Fuck baby... Fuck. Fuck... So fuckin' good... Fuck, you're killin' me, darlin'... Fuck! Fuck darlin'... FUCK! And so on. Absolutely no clicking involved. Unless it's from turning the vibrator on.

Frankie Morales - Stammerer.

Frankie moans a lot. Makes all manner of ungodly noises when he sucks his fingers clean, licks his lips, nips on your neck… Hums in abject satisfaction at a job so well done. Grizzly, hungry moans roll up from the back of his throat. Frankie likes to be close up in your face watching as he pulls orgasm after orgasm out of you. Frankie's a hella attentive lover (hail the pussy eating king 👑) that he wants to know what feels good for you. Wants to learn your body controls and dials, and all those things that make you propel for him as he makes you fly. That feel good, hermosa? You like that? Yeah, look at you taking my cock like that… Fuck, I can't get enough of this pussy. Frankie can be a bit of a talker during sex, but is nowhere near as annoying as Ezra. When Frankie comes, he stammers in both clumsy English and Spanish inflections as he forgets what dimension he's in for a second or two. May need to be flown out. Standby, pilot.

Ezra - Rambler.

Ezra won't shut the fuck up. Even when doing the nasty. We all know that Ezra likes to talk and he'd be as equally vocal in the sack. He wants to tell you what he's going to do to you in sordid detail. Then will tell what he's doing to you, as he's uh, doing it to you in sordid detail. You get a full blow by blow - if you'll forgive the pun - of your fuck session. With subtitles. He can be soft too, this man is multi-faceted like Aurelac gems. When he's gentle, he's like descriptive poetry; sweet and candescent and all about your pleasure. He's a connoisseur for filthy, dirty talk. Ezra says all the right, rancid, disgustingly perverted things in your ear between gritted teeth. He's also a growler. He'll grunt too. Lots of swears will flow out of him really fast like garbled gibberish as he comes. Fuckfuckfuckshit!OhKevvashitahfuckohshitohshotohshit! Almost like he can't believe it's happening, bless him. I mean, it's been a while, stranded on The Green...

Marcus Pike - Huffer.

Marcus fogs your eyes up with those breathy huffs like the Little Engine That Could. Marcus is a leg twitcher. A leg tenser. Either way, when he comes his leg tightens or stiffens. Or breaks. Easy there, bud. Marcus tenses right up and does a little shudder. If he's jerking off solo, then that leg rises up a little and bends at the knee. If it's a hard orgasm then his knee might even click with the strain. Those little breathy moans chug and puff from his nose regardless. And you can bet he'll get a cramp in his leg too if he's going at it for a while. Has to switch positions regularly because of it. Not caused by an injury; the guy just gets too fucking excited that parts of his body just lock up. This guy is the maestro of making love. He'll prefer to spend hours fawning over you rather than quick fuck sessions. Because he's so husband like that.

Oberyn Martell - Hummer.

Exhibitionist Oberyn wants everyone to know that he's taking you to pleasure town. Groans. Whines. Grunts. Even hisses like a viper. Can be a little nasally as he breathes, and when he comes he almost gasps. Eyes roll into the back of his head with the pleasure of it all. Neck cords strain and he may even pull out a croon-like laugh of satisfaction as he watches you come undone as he spills that sumptuous, bastard seed inside you. Screw the Iron Throne, the only throne you need is this man's face. He'll give you that smarmy eyebrow arch as you come down because you both know he just utterly fucked your shit up. And so does everyone else in the brothel. Que the applause.

Javier Peña - Hisser.

We all know what Javier Peña looks like when he fucks (thank you very much Narcos 🥲). Javier bears his teeth when he fucks hard. Growls and grunts. Pants and moans. Small, pitched whines will flow out between his teeth and curled lips as he comes. He's a jolter too. Hips will jolt and twitch into you as he empties. Thighs will jerk. When he's making love and not fucking, and there is a difference, cariño, Javier's breaths are more laboured, controlled. More nasally sounding and deep. You'll hear them in your ear as he kisses and licks around them. He'll utter Spanish obscenities delicately to you in that soft, gravelly tone that haunts your blood. He could be telling you how to parallel park for all you care. Either way, it sounds utterly delicious. Oof.

Marcus Moreno - Panter.

Marcus is in pretty good shape from fucking up supervillains on the daily, so when he gets his sexy on, he hardly breaks a sweat. 💪🏻But he does pant. Gentle, raspy pants that flutter into your mouth as you swallow them down like powerups. He'll moan around your lips because you feel so good squeezing him like that; he'll barely last much longer as he tightens on your hips to control your pace. The embarrassment of losing a life if he comes too soon isn't worth it. This gentle daddy knows how to rock your world and take you to new heights.

Dave York - Grunter.

Dave can be a talker when he's in the mood to play dirty and has the time. More often than not though it's a quickie in the shower before the girls are up, or late at night when he comes home after moonlighting as a murder daddy under your nose. He'll climb into bed next to you and he can't sleep. So he'll slip inside you and wake you up as he's grunting softly inside your ear and growling gently as you turn to kiss him whilst he plunders deeper. He presses his mouth hard against yours to quell your moans and whines so the girls don't wake up. When he comes, his jaw locks, he grinds on his teeth and growls out between them. His eyes close and he won't open them until he's fully empty. He often falls asleep almost immediately afterwards as he's satiated - and fucking exhausted from living a double life.

Dieter Bravo - Wheezer.

Dieter likes to know it feels good for you, and also likes to tell you how good you feel around his cock. Most of the time he's high, so sex is a whole ethereal experience. Sometimes he's even present for it. Lots of oh wows and fuck yeahs mutter out of him. He's quite chill, his hips do most of the work but he can tire easily so likes you to take the reins and ride. Partying hard is catching up with Mr Bravo. But he lives for sex of the kinky variety. It's weird and he likes it. But when he comes, his back tenses and he fists the sheets or whatever he can squeeze at the time. Dieter wheezes like he's out of breath, particularly after a hard session. It's all the shit that he smokes on the regular. He'll also hack up a bit afterwards, coughing into the pillow as he tries to catch his breath. Be trained in CPR and adrenaline injections, just in case.

Agent Whiskey - Crooner.

Another talker. That feel good, darlin'? Let me see you. Eyes on me, sweet thing. Christ, look at you. So fucking gorgeous, darlin'. That's it now, work it. Like that. Aw hell yeah, like that. Ride it, baby! Who can resist that smooth cowboy, huh? Whiskey will always be smirking around those wet, moustached lips as he watches you fall apart and coaxes you through it. He moans softly with lots of yeahs thrown into the mix. He's a true Southern gent; likes to make you feel good. Likes to know he's making you nut. He'll make mince meat outta your insides. Then when he comes, he likes to tell you, naturally. Oh, you got me shakin', baby. I'mma need to calm down for a sec. Fuckin' Christ.

Din Djarin - Panter.

When Din has his helmet on, you hear his breath whooshing fiercely against the inside of it. The modulator will only increase the gravelness of his breathing and make it louder. Like holding a shell to your ear and you can hear the ocean? Yeah. He crashes over you like thunderous waves. On the rare occasion that Din removes his helmet, he bears his teeth, bites down on his lip (and yours too as he lets it go with a squelchy pop) as he comes hard and whines out in a squally, panting moan that fills the Razor Crest. Luckily, Luke is babysitting The Kid. Sex with Din is like surround sound. You hear every delicious noise he makes. This is the way, mesh'la.

Pero Tovar - Grunter.

Pero fucks likes he eats - like he never will again. Fast, clumsy and handsy. A little bit of the animalistic about him. He needs the release, but needs you to release first. His partner always comes first, despite his less-than-gentlemanly ways at times. Grunty, deep breaths bounce up from out of his ribs, almost like he's wheezing. When he comes he growls and mutters incoherently. Words literally fail him as his jaw goes slack and his body flops over onto yours as he pants into your face, and it takes him a moment to remember where he is and that his supper is still waiting for him. Pero is a man that always goes back for seconds.

Maxwell Lord - Screamer.

Max takes the only position for the guy who is most likely to holler and actually scream louder than you do when he comes. Makes loud, high pitched cries and pants that sound faster and more garbled the closer he gets towards blowing his load. The excitement in him just comes out, he can't help it. He'll pant and clutch at his invisible pearls as though he can't believe the audacity of you riding hard on him. Mouth open, starry eyes and wails rising in tempo. This would-be supervillain has been well and truly subdued. He loves every second of it though. Especially when you lasso him up with rope.

Comandante Veracruz - Murmurer.

Controlled breaths. Slick smirks. Deep pants. Veracruz is a man in charge that knows what the fuck he is doing to you as he drives deep and ploughs you into the sweaty mattress in his jungle hideout. Favourite position is probably the mating press or from behind. The man likes it deeeeP. He's a smarmy bastard even when he's fucking. Taunting. You want this cock, baby? You want more, hmm? When Veracruz comes he shudders; the veins in his arms and wrists tense. You bet those cords in his neck pop too, pow, pow! Growls, bears his teeth and presses his clammy forehead into yours as he empties. Then softly murmurs into your face that you're his and only his, menacingly. But you love it. It's called Stockholm Syndrome, sweetheart.

Silva - Silent.

Silva doesn't need to make any noise at all. All that escapes is a small, ragged breath that catches in the back of his throat, that you barely hear, ebb out of him. Doesn't mean he's not enjoying it by not being vocal - this wild gun is absolutely loving it - but more so that he's completely lost in the awe of how good you're making him feel right in that moment. Stunned and drowning in euphoria. Lips part with a silent groan, just the barest husk escapes him as he edges closer to the drop. Then a small grunt as though he's clearing his dry throat, and a soft nasal whoosh is heard when he finally lets go and finds his way back to you.

Javi G - Giggler.

Javi G giggles when he comes. Don't try to tell me he doesn't. Sometimes he can't stop and you end up tittering with him. I mean, sex is supposed to be a little funny, right? Even when he jerks off alone, a little giggle slips from his lips; it just feels too fucking good not to smile and chuckle like he's five years old and just discovered his junk for the first time all over again. During the act, sweet Javi G is all up in your grill wanting to know how good it feels, hermosa. Searching into your eyes as he moves and shifts to get deeper inside you. Adjusts how he touches you. Watching for your reactions and giving you more of the things that make you appear like a cross-eyed mutt he wants to pet. Javi G is a feeder - he wants to feed you the utmost pleasure. And then giggle incessantly like a little girl when he finishes inside you.

🖤

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seventeenytiny · 11 months

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Elevator Troubles

Smut: Minors DNI

You and Jisung get it on in the elevator after it breaks down. Contains: Public sex, oral (male receiving), I guess exhibitionism, cum fetish but not really but also kinda. Word Count: 1544 Author’s Note: Okay so maybe I’m really into public sex. Also, when I got stuck in an elevator it was way less sexy :(

At this point in your day, getting stuck in the elevator wasn’t even the worst part. At least you weren’t alone in there, you had your lovely boyfriend by your side to help keep you calm. Honestly, he freaked out more than you at first, but hey what’s the worst that can happen? If anything this moment was a blessing in disguise, the two of you can shut off the world around you. Anything that happens outside those elevator doors is completely out of your control, so what’s the point of stressing about it?

Your friends were waiting for you right outside the doors, they knew you two were in there. You yelled to them through the doors, letting them know you were stuck as the cellphone connection was quite spotty in the elevator. You then hit the emergency call button, unfortunately, the person on the other side of the call wasn’t very helpful, telling you to simply just hit the “Open Door” button like Jisung hasn’t mashed that button twenty times by now.

You call back out to your friends, “Hey are you guys out there? Can you maybe call the building management to let them know we’re in here?”

And that’s what they did, and then they informed you it would probably be at least an hour before the maintenance guy would show up. You and Jisung shared a look and sighed loudly, slumping up against the elevator wall. You called out one last time to your friends telling them to leave and that you’ll catch up with them later. There was no point in making more people wait around for the elevator to get fixed.

You look over to Jisung, wrapping your arms around him to hug him, “You know, if I’m going to get stuck in an elevator I’m glad it’s with you.”

Jisung kisses the top of your head, “Well if wanted we could do something to help make the time pass.” He smirks at you, wiggling his eyebrow before grabbing your ass.

You laugh in response, “Jisung, there’s probably a camera in here...”

He’s a bit surprised by your response, to him, it didn’t sound like you completely rejected the idea. “Look around, do you see one? Because I don’t. Anyways, if there is one, why not give the guy watching it a little show?”

You bite your lip, slightly hesitant about the idea but you can’t deny how much the thought of it turns you on. How naughty would that be, getting fucked in the elevator by your boyfriend where you could be caught at any moment. You decide to proceed cautiously, pressing your lips onto his.

He kisses you back, hands gripping your hips as he slides his tongue into your mouth to deepen it. Your hands reach up to his hair, grabbing and pulling at his locks as the two of you continue to make out passionately. Jisung pulls away only to attach his lips to your neck, kissing and sucking on the sensitive skin. Tiny moans slip past your lips, you can feel your face become hot and red from embarrassment.

“Don’t be shy angel, anyone who can hear those precious sounds you make out there should consider themselves lucky.”

He places a chaste kiss on your lips, “You know that if you aren’t comfortable with this we can stop.”

His eyes were pure and twinkling as he said that, it always made your heart melt at how caring he was of you. You smile and nod, “I wanna keep going.”

And just like that, he was back to attacking your neck, his hands exploring your body overtop of your clothes. He spins you around, your back against his chest, allowing him to grind into your ass as he licks and nips your neck. One of his hands goes up to your chest, squeezing your breasts, the other going under your skirt and between your legs. He draws light circles on your clit, relieving some of that pressure that’s been building up down there for you.

No longer holding back, you moan from the stimulation, turning your head to the side to try to kiss him. He stops sucking on your neck to kiss you, allowing you to spin back around and face him. You pull away and smirk at him, “Time to let me make you feel good baby boy.”

You get down on your knees in front of him, giving him your best doe eyes as you unzip his pants. His hand pulls your hair back out of your face to help you have better access to his cock, he’s eager already, bucking his hips closer to your face.

You rub your hand over the bulge in his underwear, a wet spot of precum forming on his boxers.

“Don’t tease me, angel, please...” Jisung begs, his brows furrowed in frustration.

Realizing how limited you may be on time you decide to dive right in, freeing his cock from his boxers and giving it a couple kitten licks before taking him in. He groans out from the sudden contact, his hands pulling your hair as he ruts his hips into your face. Jisung was always so needy, so desperate to feel pleasure, he struggles to control himself around you.

He takes control as he thrusts in and out of your mouth, fucking your face. You moan around his cock, your muffled sounds send chills down his spine. He’s getting close, too close, he can’t cum just yet. He pulls out of your mouth and roughly turns you around, wasting no time pulling your panties down and flipping up your skirt. He shoves you up against the elevator wall, his tip eagerly teasing your entrance.

“Are you ready for me angel?” Jisung asks, his voice deep and husky.

“Yes Jisung, please stretch me out.”

He doesn’t hesitate after hearing your words, sliding his cock into you with ease.

“You’re so fucking wet angel, do you enjoy getting fucked where you aren’t supposed to?”

No words leave your mouth as you take in the feeling of being full. Jisung doesn’t appreciate your quietness, he pulls out nearly all the way before slamming back into.

“If you want more of that I need you to use your words, angel.”

“Fuck Jisung, I love it, please give me more.”

And just like he starts going crazy, his hips snapping into yours at high speeds. The sound of skin slapping and moans fill up the tiny space, if the maintenance man is out there you’re positive he can hear what's going on.

His fast pace sends tingles all throughout your body, your brain goes fuzzy as you get cock drunk.

“Jisung... mmm so good...”

“I know baby... need you to last longer, can’t let this end yet.”

You do your best to hold back your orgasm, knowing yours would trigger his and your fun would be over so soon. It was hard though, the idea of someone possibly watching through a camera, someone possibly hearing you get fucked sent bolts of pleasure directly to your core.

“I can’t last much long love, too good.”

“Then cum for me angel”.

Your body shakes and your eyes squeeze tight as that wonderful feeling washes over your body. Your heavenly sounds echo through the elevator.

You can hear Jisung’s breath hitch, a clear sign of his own orgasm taking over. His thrusts are sloppy yet fast as you both ride out your orgasms before he starts to slow down, sensitivity getting to the both of you. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you while the two of you catch your breath. Suddenly, the lights go back on in the elevator, you had moments to clean up before the doors would open up. Jisung pulls out fast, several drops of cum hitting the floor of the elevator. You quickly pull your panties up and flip your skirt down as he puts his member back in his pants.

The doors open just in time, the bright lights of the lobby shining on your flushed faces. Judging by the look on the maintenance man’s face, he knew exactly what happened. You look to the ground and shyly thank him as you walk out. Jisung stomps his foot onto the little bit of cum on the floor, hoping to smear it out and make it less noticeable. He follows behind you, bowing to the maintenance man as he leaves.

The two of you sigh in relief as you walk out of the building before giggles take over. You can’t believe you actually did that and got away with it. Jisung slings his arm over your shoulder as you walk towards the bar you were supposed to meet your friends at.

He places a kiss on your cheek, “I love you angel.”

“I love you too baby.”

“I can’t believe you let me fuck you in the elevator, you liked it didn’t you”

You nod shyly, “Yeah it was actually pretty amazing.”

He chuckles, “Well for future reference I’ll fuck you wherever you want.”

You pull away from him to playfully punch his shoulder. You can’t lie though, your mind was already racing with ideas of where else the two of you could fuck.

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ayyyez · 1 year

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Haikyuu you say? Can you do kageyama, goshiki, and Tsuki headcanons? Their love languages, relationship headcanons sfw and nsfw, or anything you want!!

A/N: Bless youuuu! Thank you for sending one in for me and oh this ones really good! I love options. YES KAGS! Some characters I haven't done yet yeeees. I can do this for sure <3

TAGS: relationship headcanons, love languages, dating them headcanons, fluff, smut under the cut, each one has a little bit of smut after the fluff, praise, words of affirmation, physical touch, quality time

CHARACTERS: Kageyama Tobio, Tsukishima Kei, Goshiki Tsutomu

KAGEYAMA TOBIO:

Kind of awkward almost shy in the beginning like he's afraid of doing something wrong to ruin your relationship. He's aware that the things he says can be taken the wrong way and doesn't want that to happen with you.

If you ask him about it he will just 'I'm sorry, I don't want to mess this up.'

'Mess what up?'

'Us.' He's so serious too, blush over his cheeks and everything.

You have to set him straight and assure him it's fine to mess up. You're not going to break up with him over a misunderstanding. Plus you know what he's like by now.

Give him a reassuring hug and maybe a big smooch and he's all better. Also, he's a sucker for head pats, especially if your fingers really work and get tangled in there. He pushes into your touch like he craves it.

Tobio wants to be good for you so he feels reassured by this even more. He's your good boy.

Speaking of wanting to be good, words of affirmation are very big for him in terms of love languages. Praising him and acknowledging him is assure way into his heart.

Tell him things like 'Wow that set was so impressive!' and 'I never get tired of watching you play.' It really brightens his day. It also gets him going~ if you know what I mean.

Tell him you love him, little compliments about his outfits, that you appreciate him. These all go a long way. 'Damn baby you're looking extra good today!'

He stops and blushes all bashful before a smile crosses his lips. 'Thanks.' He says, pressing a kiss to your temple. 'You look good too.' His hands slide up and down your sides. 'But you always look good.'

'Well aren't you sweet.'

Even that gives him a little extra pep him his step. Being told he is sweet. Because he'll be anything for you! Sweet, loving, affectionate. As long as he can be yours.

Likes spending time just the two of you at home for dates. But isn't afraid to also take you out and spoil you. Kind of gets a sense of pride holding your hand in public.

Also big on other kinds of physical touch but more in private. Relies on you to recharge his battery after a long day. Just falls against you and cuddles.

Craves your warmth and affection. Wants you to stroke his hair. Likes it when you whisper those sweet affirmations to him at the same time.

Likes lying on top of you and pressing his face against your chest. Kind of has thing for you chest. Also a thing for squeezing your chest. The size doesn't matter nor does it matter if you've got breasts or pecs, he's just fixated there.

There are times he likes to just bury himself there, mouth attached to your nipple, sucking and licking to his hearts content. Will nip just to play around.

Works the other nipple with his fingers. Sometimes is there for ages ignoring how hard he is in his sweats.

It doesn't matter that he's been leaking pre-cum for ages. He contents himself by thrusting against you every now and again to relieve it.

It's not until your hands thread into his hair, tug at the roots and pull him up that he remembers to continue to the next step. He's a little dazed and starry eyed so bear with him.

Then your hands are on his cock and he's whining, begging for you to make him cum after he's edged himself for so long without even realising it.

TSUKISHIMA KEI

Tsukishima held his cards close to his chest until the moment the confession came and then all of a sudden he's dating you and he's not really sure how to switch to being vulnerable.

His cards don't all come down onto the table right away.

You've sort of got to pry them from him or just wait until he naturally gives them to you (either way he needs little pushes because he's rather stubborn).

He's not overly affectionate and sappy. But will catch you of guard sometimes with soft smiles or stares in your direction.

'What?' You'll ask.

'I'm just looking. Got a problem with that?'

'Not if you give me a kiss.'

'Tch.' Gives you one anyway. And not just some cheap chaste kiss. Puts the whole Tsukki back into it. A big old passionate kiss.

'Happy now?'

'Not quite.'

Rolls his eyes but he's smirking because yeah he's coming in for another kiss. and another and another. The kiss deepens and ohh here comes that tongue at a steady pace. Nice and easy. But oh does it take your breath away.

He can be sweet and a little shit all at once.

Will walk over and bonk you on the head for attention. The second you whip around to scold him he will steal a kiss. Sometimes its on the forehead, other times its the cheek but there's other times its smack bang on the lips.

Pulls away smirking like. 'Hey.'

Punch him honestly, he will just give you another one. Or laugh. Which ever one you don't mind about.

Loves to tease you but really enjoys partners who keep him in check about being a shit or tease him back. Humble him he finds it hot. Will be all 'Tch.' but inside he's like 'Damn, you really can handle me.' Wants to kiss you real bad but won't if it's in public. Just gets all smirky lol.

His love language probably falls more on the quality time side of things. Just being able to hang out and exist together is most important to him.

It doesn't always have to be big dates. He's good with easy hangouts at home with homecooked meals, watching movies together, listening to music and just chilling. Prefers it honestly.

He does, not that he'll admit it out loud, like going out occassionally just to show off that you're together. Kind of has this complex about it. Feels a rush of superiority having been the one to bag you. Drapes an arm around your shoulder or waist proudly, head held high. Ha, you're his.

The complex kind of falls in reverse though in terms of making him feel a little self conscious. Feels like he doesn't deserve you sometimes. Doesn't seek reassurance but tries not to be such an asshole from time to time.

Goes through 'I've gotta be good for you.' Phases. Where he thinks he really needs to be better. You can pick up on it and assure him he's fine, just a little prickly sometimes. 'Aren't we all?'

Huffs when you pepper kisses all over his face to make him feel better. Appreciates it though.

Does appreciate and crave a bit of that physical touch too. Isn't always good at initiating it. Sometimes sits there craving it while staring holes into the back of your head.

That's your cue to climb on into his lap and just hold him and kiss him all over. Nip and suck at his neck to hear those sweet gasps and moans.

His hands will find your waist and hold you tight. That allows you to naturally push down against him. Before you know it the two of you are grinding together.

Exchanging kisses, touches and and dry humping all the way to that sweet friction until that final release. He's not even embarrassed because hey, the both of you got lost in the moment.

The two of you are just crazy about each other.

GOSHIKI TSUTOMU

This guy omg, he flits between hell yeah you're going out with him to wow he can't believe you're actually going out with him. Bear with him alright? He's a bit all over the place emotionally.

The biggest sweetie though. Like, he always has your best interests at heart but is super self sacrificing at the start.

You have to be like boy! You need to tell me what you want too! This relationship is between two people! Please!

Appreciates you so much for it. Takes awhile to get there but is finally to be able start actually breaking that habit and tell you how he's feeling and what he wants to do.

Takes you on cute little dates. Starts wanting to show off in other ways other than just his volleyball skills. (totally compliment him on those btw he will love you forever)

Shows off by taking you to restaurants he thinks you'll like. Really gushes if he is right and you like the food. 'I'm just really good at picking places, I'm so glad you like the food.'

You snort but don't pay it much mind. 'Sure thanks for bringing me.'

You've got to give it to him for at least getting his confidence back right? It's kind of sweet.

Always asks permission to do things, like even the little things, doesn't just do it. 'Can I hold your hand?' or 'Can I hold you.' even 'Can I kiss you.' It's very endearing.

He has a blush on his cheeks every time even after you've been in a relationship for awhile. It's not that he's nervous anymore he's just really excited still. He will always be exited to be with you!

Really wants you to be at his games (if you can). He says it gives him extra strength knowing you're there cheering him on in person. Always asks for a kiss before the match too. It's for luck.

If you can't make it to the game he will ask for two extra kisses for EXTRA luck. Honestly he will just miss you but you don't need to know that. He also just likes kissing you.

The first time he tried to kiss you he accidentally got your nose. Was so embarrassed you had to grab him and kiss him to make him calm down. It didn't calm him down but it made him stop babbling lmao.

His love language is also Word of affirmation so praise that guy! Tell him you appreciate him and that he's the coolest, most talented guy you know.

One time, in bed while you were giving him a handjob you told him that he was the hottest, strongest ace you've ever seen and he let out the loudest moan and came right there and then. You just caressed his face and stroked him through it.

That's how you learnt that words of praise REALLY affected him. Especially in the bedroom. You could be in the middle of making out or having sex and a few praising words will having him moaning and tettering on the edge.

It's fascinating to watch just how quickly his brows knit together and his whines spill out.

Goshiki is very big on reciprocation too. He never likes to leave you hanging if he cums first. A bit of an overachiever too. If he cums once before you, he wants to make you cum twice.

Will spend hours going down on you. Kissing and biting up and down your thighs. Sometimes gets a bit hung up marking you he needs some help getting directions back to the main event.

Won't ever forget to please you though. Just likes to admire every inch of your body first.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months

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By His Command 2

Summary: you meet the wife. (Handmaid AU)

Warning: this series will contain violence, dystopian aspects, rape and noncon, blood, coercion, possible pregnancy and other dark elements. Please read these warnings and beware.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Note: Thank you for reading! Also feedback and comments if you dont mind. Maybe a reblog. 💕💕💕💕

“Take your boots off,” the martha girds.

You unbutton the red boots and step out of them. You scoop of your valise once more and face the woman in green. She is already marching further inside.

The martha leads you down a long hallways without a word. You keep your head straight. The aunts always told you to keep your eyes to yourself. Those lessons did not come easy. Reflexively, you put your hand over your ear, expecting a blow at the very thought of peeking.

You pass open doorways but your attention is fixed on the hem of the martha’s dull green smock. She goes to the left, another wing of the hallway, not as far until she turns again, then stops completely. She steps to the side and puts her hand against her apron.

“Your room. You will sleep here and in the mornings you will not come out until you are summoned. Understood?” She explains sternly.

“Yes,” you answer.

“Go inside, put your bag down, and wait.”

You look at her but she refuses to meet your gaze. You quickly retract and turn instead to the closed door. She reaches to twist the handle and push in inside. You don’t miss the sliding latch on the outside.

You enter and she pulls the door shut. It brushes your skirt, nearly catching the fabric as it hits the frame. You spin and stare at the barrier, the metal bar on the other side scraping into the hoop. You’re locked in.

The iciness of the exterior seeps into the small room and nips at your layers. You shiver and place your valise on the low dresser against the wall, the paint peeling away from the aged wood. The weight of your bag causes it to creak.

You slip your gloves off and lay them beside the valise. You tuck your hands in your sleeves and retreat. Not far as the room isn’t very spacious. A bed with a rusting metal frame, a contrast to the pure white bedding pulled taught across the mattress. You push your hand beneath the pillow and feel the lumpy surface. It is at least a place to sleep.

You look up and stare at the metal bars across the window. The frame was recently whitewashed but cannot hide the scratch marks etched into the wood. You try not to think of it.

Your steps groan in the floor as you carry on to the doorway to the left, the only aside from the entrance. A simple bathroom with only a toilet and a sink. There is a slightly dingy smell to it. Odd to think that in a house so resplendent from the outside, that it should hold such a pathetic cell.

You flinch as you hear a metal schlock and you back out of the bathroom. You turn and face the door as it opens. A woman in blue enters, a hat pinned to her spiral blonde locks, a hit of brown reaching to her ears. Her thick straight brows draw together as she raises her chin. You gape at her senselessly. This is the wife.

“Closer,” she beckons you forward with a fine leather glove.

You obey, edging nearer as her eyes bore into you. You watch the wall over her shoulder as you force your shoulders straight. You squeak as she yanks on the string of your bonnet and tears it away. She drops it and grabs your arms, turning you as she clicks her tongue.

When you face her again, she braces your hips and squeezes, feeling along your stomach as you try not to squirm. She lets you go but frightens you as she latches onto your chin, forcing you to look her in the face.

“Pray that you can do your duty,” she sneers.

You swallow tightly, trembling as her dark eyes pierce you like daggers.

“Blessed be the fruit,” you recite.

She glares at you, stepping forward as she bears down on you, walking you back as she grips tighter and tighter.

“I asked for a strong one,” she shoves you and you flail back onto the bed in a heap of flapping fabric, “don’t fear, it won’t be long. He’ll make short work of you.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows and blink at her dumbly. She scoffs and shakes her head, turning on her heel and strutting out. She slams the door in her stead and the lock chafes into the ring.

The hollowness of that place settles over you. Not like the center where the other girls cowered with you, where their weeps kept you company. It’s only you now.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #by his command #handmaid au #au #drabble #series #the gray man

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wyyvernn · 1 month

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A/n: WOOOOO this one was 👀😳 I wanted to write more smut about him as an extremely horny older gent.

✧･ﾟ: Masterlist :･ﾟ✧

✧Cw: All characters 18+, Older Man/Younger Woman, Mentor/Student Dynamic, Smut - don't like, don't read

✧Tags: @psybrepunk @sangheilihoes @demigoddessqueens @bookworm-with-coffee @ladysaturnsdust @haytham-loves-chocolate @memoriesofafallen @bloodhaven99 @heiress-prime @konnisart

✧ If you would also like to be tagged in future Haytham fics, let me know in the comments!

Irritable. Completely and irrationally irritable.

The Grand Master was always in control of his emotions, but bless the poor soul who suffered the receiving end of his ire.

There was something about him you sensed differently today and you could pick up on his change of mood whenever he passed by, his cape angrily sweeping your calves and leaving you staring at his retreating form in silence.

Hurried footsteps, clenched fists, and teeth-grinding glares sent your way all throughout the afternoon have you wildly confused.

Did you do something wrong recently? You were keeping up well with the missions your mentor sent you on so it couldn't be a problem with that. And it definitely couldn't be your attitude either.

Haytham regarded you with much respect even if he didn't explicitly show it. It was conveyed in his mannerisms - the way he nodded in satisfaction of your efforts, or when he gave the slightest curve of his lips when you made things go the way that he wanted them to. Those nice little moments made your day.

Except this wasn't one of those nice little moments, and when you greeted your mentor with a smile like usual, you didn't expect to be flat out shunned and shouldered past.

A huff exhaled from your lips and it leaves you loathing how you sound like a petulant child.

It's late in the evening when you see him again in his office. And he's hunched over the desk, dressed in a casual yet elegant fit, his hat, cape and coat no doubt hung up on a hanger somewhere. He pours no small amount of detail in his journal with a frustrated grip on his quill, and a heavy frown fixed on his brow.

It's what you expect him to be doing at these late sort of hours.

What you don't expect is to be held in place by the brewing storm of his glare as he looks up from his journal, and in the next moment, shoved up against the wall with little to no resistance, and his lips and tongue hungering for your own like a man starved for days.

His hands, worn and toned from decades of climbing and fighting, spare you no mercy as they grip your waist like a vice and keep you firmly put.

"Terrible girl." He groans, and his voice is low and rough with need as his teeth print marks up your neck, sucking your supple skin into his skilled mouth, "Having your Grand Master ache for you like this - does it thrill you to see him so tortured?"

"So plagued with lewd thoughts of you?" is what he goes to add but he's interrupted by a yelp when he delivers a sharp nip to your throat, soothing it immediately with a slow drag of his tongue.

Your lips part for a reply, a plea for your innocence of the situation, but his are unforgiving as they descend down on yours again, swallowing your protests.

You really have no idea what he's on about, but you suspect that it has to do with the way he's been pining for you these last couple of weeks. The sight of you in his mind has tested his control - scandalous images of your bare body beneath him, above him, on him - all threatening to break that gentleman composure of his that he's supposedly so good at maintaining.

But you're not going to leave your Grand Master disappointed and his fantasies unfulfilled.

You mirror his lust, hands climbing up his chest to pick and pull at the cravat and toss it messily behind you only to begin shedding his cape and navy coat half way down his shoulders before you can get to unbuttoning his red vest and shirt beneath it all.

You pause when you get down to the last button, and instead decide to tease him by sliding your knee in between his thighs, and watch in riveting excitement, as his hips roll forward, a low guttural purr rumbling from his throat and spilling past your mouth.

He pulls away suddenly and then hastens to shove your skirts up your thighs, the desperation reflective in his swift, hurried movements. You help him free of his trousers but he stops suddenly, delaying his desire to plunge into you as the prominent curve of his nose caresses along your jawline and nears the shell of your ear.

"Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me." He whispers harshly in your ear, and a delightful shiver chills down your spine.

An eager nod is all you deliver him, your eyes begging your mentor to just grab you and fuck you good and proper against the wall.

"I want you. Gods, please, I've always wanted you, sir I-"

A sharp gasp cuts you short as his cock sinks past your folds, your leg hooking around his hip and the other struggling to balance as he pushes you into the wall.

You cry out softly and you bury your face in his exposed shoulder to muffle your moans, silently cursing him in your mind when he snaps forward once, and then again and again until your teeth are clamping down on his shoulder.

He speeds up his pace in response, grunting at the pain of your teeth and pleasure of your slick, inviting warmth, of how your cunt just stretches for him while he pounds away like he's mad, like he's possessed or hungry. And his grip doesn't let up either. Toughened skin of his knuckles turn white as they rudely grab at the neckline of your dress and tear down the middle of your cleavage to get to your breasts.

"How perfect you are." He praises, groping your skin.

His lips attach to your nipples right away, the sharp and quick strikes of his tongue lapping at them send pleasurable jolts through your body and all the way down to your core. And then it all feels so sudden when his front teeth are scraping your little buds, alternating between the two and making you cling to him desperately, wrapping your arms around his neck and arching your chest into his mouth as your moans become louder. The stimulation is becoming too much now, all that tension building up in your muscles.

You can't even think, can't even form a proper sentence. And then suddenly when he picks you up by the back of your thighs and changes the angle, his cock hits a deeper part within you that makes you whine and babble mindlessly.

"Oh my... gods...!" A gasp rips from your throat from the unexpected change.

A groan passes through clenched teeth, the loudest you've heard from him. He can hear your heavy panting and how it mixes with his own, he can feel your tight walls gripping him as his pace begins to speed up. He's close. And he can feel you clinging to him, your nails clawing at his crumpled coat, vest and shirt down his torso to dig them hard into his back muscles. You're close as well, but he knows you need more to feel satisfied.

To finish you off, his hand reaches in between your bodies and furiously rubs his finger on your clit. The rough pad of it further adds to the stimulation, pulling a muffled scream from your lips as you bury your face in his shoulder and grind against his hand and cock, simultaneously.

You feel it finally, crying out a final time as your orgasm comes crashing down on you, and he lets you down gently.

There's a few more slow thrusts from Haytham until he pulls out, his hand performing sharp and rapid strokes on his cock while he grunts and pants. Although he's interrupted when you boldly wave his hand away and do it for him, leaning up a little to press your lips against his.

He kisses you back harder and pushes his hips into your grip, thankful for your welcome aid as he huffs and then spills into your palm, crushing your body against his with one last groan of pleasure.

The both of you stayed there, just enjoying each other's company in the air of peace you shared.

Eventually, you broke the silence.

"I'll go clean myself up. I'll report to you first thing in the morning, sir."

Your body breaks away from his, but you don't even make a full step away before he tugs you back by your arm. He seemed almost disappointed by your dismissive response, like he didn't just take you in his office long past bedtime hours.

"Join me. I'll have someone draw us a bath." He insisted, curling his arms back around your waist, his lips lifting into a slight smirk when he noticed your tiny gasp.

"And then..." He murmured, the deep grey of his eyes dripping with sensuality as he grazed his mouth over the shell of your ear, "We'll see about more of these little trysts, hm?"

Oh, he wanted more. He absolutely wanted more from you.

And who were you, his obedient little student, to deny him?

#haytham kenway #haytham kenway x reader #assassin's creed iii #assassin's creed 3

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ohforficsake · 4 days

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Talk Refined

main masterlist

Summary: Orpheus and Eurydice. A Blacksmith and a Warrior. A Lawyer and the Lady He Meets at a Bar. Two souls fated to find each other across lifetimes. Here are just a few of those stories.

Pairing: Ezra x f!Reader. Reader is able-bodied and takes many forms. Described as having hair that can be pinned back in one instance, generally open description in others.

This is my submission for @wannab-urs Hozier Drabble Challenge! My character was Ezra, and my prompt was "Talk" off of Wasteland, Baby!. This was such a fun challenge, thank you so much for organizing it, Gin!

Word Count: ~5.8K (I blew past drabble, I'm so sorry)

Rating: Explicit 18+ / brief fingering / brief handjob / unprotected piv / language / main character death / Minors DNI

A/N: This was so incredibly fun to write and I actually had a huge smile on my face when I finished it that I'm pretty sure is still there. I'm incredibly happy with how this turned out. I've never written for Ezra before, so this was a really interesting exercise in finding the voice of a character that I found quite challenging to get to the heart of. Ezra folks, I really hope I did your boy justice.

Notes on literary references and the source of Orpheus' speech (not written by me) included at the end.

I'm also kind of just launching this super hot off the press, so please forgive any typos you may find and definitely message me about them once you're done reading.

Massive thank you to @beskarandblasters for the beautiful cover art for this story! 💚 Go hit Kel up if you're looking for a lovely header for your work!

Dividers by @cafekitsune!

Part I: The Darkness of the Night

He’s called Orpheus in this lifetime. Blessed with his mother’s tongue.

No way of knowing he forever will be.

A twist of phrase. A glint in the eye.

A white patch at his hairline is the only mark of his father. As if licked there by the rays of Apollo’s creation.

And he is his mother’s boy, plucking at lyre strings and humming low, branches bending to his ambit as he harmonizes with the rush of Zephyrus’ wings through tall grasses.

But you are a rich distraction indeed.

A distraction perhaps of the West Wind’s own making, for the god has always been a soft touch.

The breeze toys with your chiton as you drift in and out of dreams.

Molding gossamer to your form.

A promise of something just for him.

Orpheus reaches to run his knuckles down your arm, awaiting your stirring before he takes fingers over your shoulder, up to cup your cheek.

You turn to press against the warmth of his hand. The pad of his thumb softly skimming your bottom lip.

It sends sparks racing across your skin.

He hums a laugh and fits closer to you, warmer now than the midday sun. You slant your eyes up at him, greeted with a smile before he bends to press a long kiss to your mouth.

His lyre is discarded in the grass now, wildflowers poking up through its strings.

The hand on your cheek moves to pull at his red linen handkerchief around your neck. Tied there in the morn to guard the late-hour transgressions of his lips from judgmental stares.

Again revealed to him now.

He tucks the cloth into his zoster before his fingers dip under the gauze of your robes, cupping one breast before his lips replace fabric.

“The dryads, my darling,” you whisper a warning into the heated hollow of his mouth.

“Fret not, my love,” he chides with a whisper.

And you whimper a wanton, insincere protest as his hand adjusts to move lower still, nimble fingers inching your hemline up until your thighs are bared to him.

“Surely such creatures would sympathize. Look favorably on newlywed dalliance.”

“For they understand pleasures such as these,” he murmurs as his fingers slip over your core.

"The nymphs haven’t our flesh," you gasp against his curls as he bends to nip at the lush of your breast.

"They have our desires."

"The nymphs know fertile things in ways we never shall, my darling Eurydice," ghosts hot against your skin.

"And surely they know what comes of something flush with want."

The press of his length against you causes your hips to tilt into his hand as your languid knees fall open.

"To deny that nature is to deny the nymphs themselves, little dove."

He tips his face to brush petal-soft lips against your frantic pulse as he shifts over you.

"For you see, they don’t care."

And the breach of him causes your back to arch, nails digging into the corded muscle of his arms.

You bend enough for your eyes to land on the grove of oak trees.

Unsure if begging forgiveness.

Or reveling in their jealousy.

But there are other eyes on you this day. Watching the deft way your husband wrings pleasure from your form.

The way he rolls you over on a bed of meadowsweet to press deeper still.

Holding your body to his as he pulls music from your throat.

Other eyes, indiscreet in their desire and relentless in their pursuit.

Other eyes that lead to your journey across the Styx.

Lead to Orpheus’ torment.

They say there are ways to speak with the dead.

But words will not pacify the poet when the possibility exists to feel you beneath him again.

A body that writhes under his own. Skin soft against the way his burns.

The way you welcome the thick weight of him.

All of him.

Into the warm clutch of your wet cunt.

And Orpheus, driven by his desire and blessed with his mother’s gift, marches boldly into the depths of grief.

“You powers divine of the subterranean kingdom, where all of mortal creation must one day sink to our doom, if you will give me permission to tell you the truth unvarnished by shifty pretenses…”

“I’d hoped to be able to bear my loss and confess that I tried.”

And the dance of his fingers over gut string pricks the ears of the damned as he gives verse to his flesh’s torment.

“In the name of these confines of fear, in the name of this vast abyss and your realm of infinite silence, I, Orpheus, implore you, unravel the web of my dear Eurydice’s early passing.”

A prayer for relief.

“This is the place that we all are bound for, our final dwelling, and yours is the longest reign that the human race must endure.”

Through vulpine teeth.

“Eurydice too, when her due of years has been ripely completed, shall own your sway. Till then, I beg you to let me enjoy her.”

And it moves the hound to cease its lashing.

Moves the one eternally punished to rest upon his stone.

Moves the dead of Winter to cave to the tender brush of Spring’s hand.

And you are called forth by a voice between what should be your ears.

And Orpheus begins to move.

Daring to hope for your sweet clutch again as your footsteps grow louder against stone.

As you take the form he knows, more corporeal with every footfall.

The tenderness in your ankle made manifest with flesh.

And his cock throbs with the thought of you.

His wife.

His muse.

But there’s a pause in the lilting cadence of your step.

Where you’ve stopped to grab for the fallen handkerchief that slipped from his belt.

And the panic flooding his breast moves him against all hope.

And he turns.

And you reach for him.

Before disappearing for the final time.

With forgiveness swimming in your eyes.

Part II: Pilgrim, Stranger, Wanderer

He’s called Doran in this lifetime.

A name you learn upon ducking into the blacksmith’s workshop with another man’s name on your lips.

“Callum!” You call, greeted instead by a shock of white hair where blonde should be.

Round brown eyes where you expected green.

“Apologies,” you offer, “I am looking for the smith.”

“Callum was called away to his family in the north country.”

His answering voice like honey just starting to crystalize.

“I’m called Doran,” he bends his head in customary greeting.

And you note the broad spread of his hand against his chest.

“I apprenticed under Callum, in what feels like a lifetime ago now, I admit.” He offers a small smirk. “He asked that I mind the forge in his absence.”

And you give him your name but not your full belief in this story.

“May I help you with something, dove?”

You straighten against the rake of his eyes. “My horse requires particular shoes. She is of a larger breed and nothing standard will suit.”

And you turn your back to him leading the way outside.

Doran whistles low at the sight of your mare, a sturdy Friesian glossed blue in the morning sun.

“She is a stunning creature,” he purrs, gently taking his fingers over her strong neck.

Pausing to thumb the iris stamped into the leather of her bridle.

“She’s no delicate thing,” you watch as he circles the horse. “Her grandsire was a draft who pulled the High King’s carriage.”

He fits one massive hoof between his knees, gently brushing away the feathers at her ankle before she starts fighting his touch.

He adjusts her gently, inspecting her irons before she protests in earnest.

“It’s apparent,” he says, quickly dropping the horse’s foot and jumping aside before she stamps and shakes her head, “that her blood runs hot.”

“She does not favor the touch of men,” you answer, soothing a hand over her hindquarters. “I should have forewarned you.”

“A fair lady is entitled to her opinions when she is that beautiful,” Doran gives her a wide berth.

And takes his eyes over you instead.

“You are the nobleman’s daughter.” He squints against the sun. “The warrior?”

“I am.”

��Now,” he pulls a rag from his pocket and rubs at his hands, “I know well the dangers of feminine beauty but a warrioress is altogether new to me. You are not riding into battle soon, I pray?”

“One in my position exists in a constant state of preparation. But there is no rumble of battle on the horizon.”

His smirk dimples one cheek now.

“I shall have the shoes for your láir within the week. And I shall pray you need not fly away before then, little dove.”

“May I make half the payment now for your services? This was the custom with the old smith.”

“The only payment for my services I can insist upon is merely the chance to sit in your presence a moment longer. Would a fair lady allow a humble blacksmith that much?”

And you see straight through him. Through to the tools on the wall.

But the broad set of his shoulders under ash-smudged linen. The way he moves, lithe and light on his feet as he dances between his stock of iron bars and his cache of hammers. The bright wideness of his eyes that betray sincerity or something of its kin.

A humble one no. But this one, perhaps.

You drop a pouch of coins onto his anvil. “Where?”

“Meet me here. In the morrow?”

And you tell him “maybe” in the moment as you climb into your saddle.

But you arrive on foot the next morning.

_____

You meet him three mornings in the week it takes him to forge your mare’s irons.

On the first day he tells you of his travels through Spain and France. Of scrambling up the masts of the ship that brought him to your shore.

On the third, he recites The Bard’s work with such nuance that you’re not entirely sure he isn’t the man himself.

On the fifth day he leads you out to the ruins of an old monastery, up a winding staircase until you’re forced to stand so close on the crumbling parapet that you can feel the heat of him at your back.

Your head spins from something other than the height.

On the seventh day he places four horseshoes, lovingly wrapped in burlap and bound with hemp cord, into the hand he has cradled in his own.

Warm and worn.

“Can I see you again?” He murmurs, barely a foot between you.

“Is that wise?”

“I have been mistaken for many things, little dove.” He brushes two knuckles over your cheekbone. “Nary a man has included wise among them.”

And you scoff but press into his touch all the same.

“Forgive me my boldness,” he takes his fingers under your chin, “but I must pose the question.”

“Your mare does not favor the touch of men.”

“But,” he purrs, “do you?”

And your lips form the word “goodnight” but you don’t dare move.

Your eyes flash with a want that does not go neglected.

“Must you take your leave?” He thumbs your bottom lip.

“I must.”

“But what of my payment,” he hums.

“As I recall you beseeched me pay with my time,” you tilt your head, reveling in the brush of warm breath against your skin, “I dare say I’ve tendered more than my share.”

“And yet I am in debt every time you take your presence from me,” he smirks. “There is something of you, little dove, that I fear has a hold on—”

You steal the words from his lips with your own.

And the unabashed delight dancing over his features when you part makes you kiss him again.

You fling your arm to rest the irons on the first surface you can find, desperate to wind your hands in his hair as his fit to your waist.

He urges your mouth open with the soft slip of his tongue. Humming when you let him inside.

“Little bird,” he pants when he tears his lips from you, forehead thumping hard against yours. “I confess if you stay past this moment I shall not be able to exercise any measure of restraint.”

“Is restraint what you desire?” You angle heavy-lidded eyes up at him.

“Not in the slightest,” he swallows hard, fist still gripping at your hair. “But you are a gentle lady with a good name, and I—”

“I want you, Doran,” you murmur. “This.”

And his head falls back on his shoulders with a tight, pained hiss.

“I confess I have given in to the fantasy of hearing that fall from this lush mouth many nights since first we met.”

And he expects heat to rise to your cheeks at his admission. But the hand that cradles your neck finds no such warmth.

“Do you know how it works?” He hums low, running his palm down your sleeve to lace thick fingers with yours. “Pleasure?” He brings your knuckles to his lips, eyes glinting in hearthlight.

And there is sincerity evident in his gaze.

For you are a gentle lady with a good name.

“Mmm, have you felt this?” He takes your hand, gliding it over the rough wool of his trousers.

To the hard line of his length underneath them.

Your breath skips.

You are no stranger to amusement of the flesh. But never before have you felt so—much.

“Feel me, birdie,” he hums, rolling his forehead against yours, “what you do to me. I fear there isn’t any blood left for the rest of me.” He kisses you again. “Only for you. This. Just for you.”

“Your bed, Doran,” you murmur against his mouth.

The hand over yours encircles your wrist and he leads you through to his chambers.

He pulls you tight to his body again, mouths locked as his hands roam your form, unable to settle upon what features his fingers must traverse first.

You push the braces from his shoulders and he helps you with the buttons of his shirt, your hands skating up the smooth expanse of tanned skin before tugging at your own shirttails.

Your lips find his neck as he unbuttons his trousers. You’ve already stepped out of yours.

“So eager, birdie,” he wraps you in his arms, and your skin burns with his touch. “Surely you’ve seen it with beasts, yes?” He salts your neck with kisses. “It’s quick with them, you see. It doesn’t have to be. Doesn’t have to—”

A moan cuts off his babbling from where you’ve taken him in hand.

“Although I may yet need to beg your forgiveness,” his hips buck into your hand, “my stamina may yet waiver, upon this first time.”

His tongue slips into your mouth again and finally he finds himself enough to back you up until your thighs meet his bed.

“It’s been so long. So long, birdie, since I have held a woman.” He leans you back with his body as your hands fly to his hair. “Longer still since I have held one as soft. Supple and pliant as you.” His lips map your collarbone, nose skimming the valley of your breasts as he takes one in hand.

“Never before is a long time indeed.”

He sucks at tender, pebbled skin, drawing an arch in your spine as he shifts to settle between your legs.

“I give you my word that I will indeed take my time with you but I offer a preemptive apology in the instance that I fail upon this first time.” His fingers slip down to toy with your folds, groaning against your ribs at the wetness that he finds there. “Perhaps we are no different than animals indeed.”

You hear only half of his babbling.

The static of anticipation under your skin crackles in your ears as your hips tip into his hand. His thumb slides over your clit and you cry out.

“You see, sometimes a man just needs to bury himself deep.”

He slings your legs over his hips and sits up on his knees, stroking his length with your borrowed wetness as your hands find his thighs.

There’s a dark edge to his voice now. Heavy-lidded eyes locked on the core of you.

“This need. It’s far stronger than I ever will be.”

“Now, Doran, I need—”

He doesn’t make you wait.

And he keeps his word in the moments it matters. Slowly rocking his hips to stretch you open on his cock before your body begs him deeper.

Large palms settle around your waist as he builds in pace, alternating slow with fast. Tenderness with force that drives the bedframe to knock against the wall. When his thumb winds circles against your clit you cry into the night as pleasure rips through you. Greedy lips crash against yours as his weight blankets your reeling form. Fevered moans in his chest thrum through you as he savors the way your walls pulse around him.

He buries his face against your neck and you feel the bite of his teeth as he snarls, drawing closer and closer to the edge.

He cants his hips just so at the last minute, pulling himself from your heat a moment before his seed streams hot over your thigh.

You soothe a hand over the nape of his neck as his hips spasm with the last of it, wide hand cradling your jaw and tipping your face to his.

Kisses softer now.

Grateful.

“You are a rare bird indeed,” he murmurs against your ear, lips ghosting over your neck.

He finds himself enough to rise from bed and kneel on the floor, searching for his handkerchief amongst the tangle of his clothes.

Yours peeks from the pocket of your trousers, red against brown wool, and you lazily twirl a corner of it around your finger and draw it out.

Doran catches it from your hand, gently cleaning your thigh of his spend before pressing a kiss there.

“I shall return this to you clean,” he holds it up briefly before craning to press a kiss to your lips. “Don’t trouble a hair on your head with moving, birdie,” he bids you before disappearing to the kitchen.

You trouble the hair on your head all the same as you pull the jostled pins from it, tousling it out of the style your nurse had so meticulously placed it in this morning.

Doran returns with two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. He fills them as you prop yourself up on your side and he settles on the floor. One arm slung up on the mattress.

Adoration in his eyes as he tips his glass against yours.

“You didn’t tell me this was not your first time. Although I do find it rather a pleasant surprise,” he rubs a hand over the curve of your waist with lust-hazed eyes.

“I could scarcely utter a word amidst your chatter,” you tease with a grin as you take another sip of your whiskey.

His smile dimples his cheek.

“Are you—”

For once he hesitates to speak.

“Are you promised to anyone?”

You catch his hand and bring it to your lips, pressing a kiss to his palm before he thumbs your cheekbone.

“None but myself. And my duty.”

He hums in acknowledgment.

You finger the white patch at his hairline, twirling a clinging curl.

“Angered a horse as a child and she made it known with her hooves,” he offers. “Frightened the color from that spot, I’m afraid.”

“There’s character in it. I’m quite fond.”

He turns in and rests his chin on the bed, hand back to trailing over your curves.

“Dove?”

And you frown at the nickname.

“I am nothing so delicate, Doran.”

“A shrike then, perhaps,” he smirks, knuckles ghosting over your stomach.

And something about it makes your heart preen.

“Has a man ever,” his fingers dip lower over your abdomen, “put his mouth on you?”

It sends a fresh jolt of pleasure racing up your spine. You turn onto your back without thought, basking in his touch as fingers trail over your mound.

“Right here?” The pads of his middle and ring fingers wind softly against your clit.

“No,” you gasp.

“Then may I have the pleasure of being the first?”

And he is the first in a way that has you wishing for him to be the last.

The only.

_____

Your handmaid was sympathetic to your cause, having been driven from her own house for true love. They share a small cottage on your father’s land now.

Your mother, though she did not know the intricacies of your continued dalliances with the blacksmith, knew the shift in your demeanor was a man’s doing. And she always was a soft touch for love.

Your father.

Was your mother’s concern.

And so your nurse covers your footsteps with a tickle in her throat that needs clearing.

Ushers you back into your chambers before morning light with a knowing smile.

“I always thought you would make a pass for the stable hand,” she confesses one day as she pours heated water over your hair. “The blacksmith is a surprise.”

“An unpleasant one?”

“Not in the slightest. He’s handsome.”

You can tell there is more to the sentiment.

“Yes, and?” You ask with a raised brow.

“Rakish.”

“Perhaps rakish is what I need,” as you rub water from your eyes.

“No lady with sense needs rakish, my darling girl,” she chides as she rubs soap at your scalp. “But a lady with sense should indulge in it from time to time.”

This draws a smile across your lips.

“He treats you well?”

“He treats me to pleasure the likes of which I have never known. If I offer this kingdom the breath in my breast every time I leave its gates, the least I may be permitted is the choice of a lover.”

And so she fixes you bitter tea every morning that you return from your rakish man.

_____

The pair of you take to late night meetings at the old groundskeeper’s shack on your parents’ land.

Where the splashing of the brook over rocks and the churn of the water wheel stifle the way he makes you cry out in pleasure.

And for one so verbose, he does excel at discretion. Raking ashes from the forge through the patch of white in his hair. Bending shadows around himself as he slips from town and into the forest at the edge of the estate.

The pair of you carry on for months. Until summer sun yields to the darkening blanket of fall.

A welcome change that lengthens your stolen hours.

“I’d wager that we were lovers in lives past,” he muses one night, lips pressing kisses against a scar on your shoulder. “You know me, little bird. The very depths of me.”

“Perhaps,” you roll over in a luxuriant stretch, “you are easy to know.”

“The Townsfolk would perhaps beg to differ, my darling.” He rests his hand on your cheek as you curl into him.

“Must you go in the morrow?” He asks softly.

“I’m afraid I must. For it is my duty. To ensure the safety—”

“—of the kingdom,” you both finish.

“In that case, I have made you a gift.” He reaches over your form down to the pocket of his cloak, and produces a small canvas pouch.

He sits up with you, pulling your back to his chest, arms around your middle as he watches you.

A small silver disk threaded on a chain falls into your palm. An iris stamped into the pendant.

“Doran, it’s beautiful. You made this?”

“It is perhaps more crude than a silversmith’s work,” he helps you fasten it around your neck, “but I wanted you to have something to remember my touch in the absence of it.”

You turn towards him such that he can see you in the firelight. Ash on your jaw from where you held him to your neck, perched atop his hips while he ground deep.

Silver pendant hanging just above the valley of your breasts.

“Beautiful,” he smiles, pressing a kiss against your lips, thumbing at the smudge on your chin. “I have always thought there to be something undeniably sensual in the furl of iris petals,” he rumbles, “how fitting for them to be your favorite.”

“Your imagination is swift, Doran.”

“You have not beheld what I have, dearheart,” he pulls you down against the bed linens once more.

Holding you against his heart.

And he is quiet for a long while, fingers running softly over your stomach, nose buried in your hair.

“What of my safety?” He asks.

A plea to keep you here.

“What shall I do?”

“I have no doubt you will find another iris that unfurls for you in the meanwhile,” you hum. Eyes slipping closed.

“There is only one, my love. I shall wait for your return.”

_____

A grand crowd lines the streets as you and the men of your battalion ride towards the village gates the next morning. Full of cheers and blessings.

And you offer the customary wave and nod.

But your heart hammers against chainmail.

Eyes darting through the crowd.

Willing a shock a white to appear.

And as you near the gates he greets you.

Warm brown eyes and a grin of pride. He rushes to push through the crowd as you approach on your mare, eyes never leaving each other.

You slip one foot from your stirrup and he jams one of his into it and stands, briefly.

Long enough to cup the base of your skull and lay a parting kiss against your lips.

You hurriedly pull your red handkerchief from behind your breastplate, pressing it into his palm as he drops away.

Crushing the cloth to his heart as you slip through the gates.

And it will yield the ire of your father and the warm, joyous tears of your mother.

But they matter not.

For you do not return home under your own power.

You return home under a shroud.

Your nurse slips into the night, treading your path with your necklace in hand.

“She was found with her hand over her heart. And this underneath it.”

And the blacksmith.

Wrought with grief.

Is never seen again.

Part III: The Helper. The Protector.

He’s called Ezra in this lifetime.

Brought to this bar by a group of associates keen on celebrating his win in federal court this afternoon.

And he knows it’s an excuse to drink on the firm’s dime.

He was an associate once too.

But they helped draft the brief that saved their client $44 million. A few drinks is a small thanks.

Ezra sticks to the corners, entertaining chatter only when approached. Kindly redirecting the advances of a first year who’s too young to realize flirting with a partner is career suicide.

He’s content tonight to sip his bourbon and observe.

“Okay, but I told you that Bismark case was horseshit and the judge was going to see that!” One associate who is two drinks too deep roars.

“That was so fucking risky, I still can’t believe you put so much weight on that,” another chides.

“Fucking WORKED though!” And the first man spreads his arms wide.

Knocking you into the sip of red wine you were about to take from your seat at the bar.

“Jesus, fuckin’—” you start before taking a deep breath and glancing down at the patch of deep burgundy beginning to spread on your white blouse.

Fuck.

“Boys, boys, this lovely lady didn’t consent to hearing your opinions on bullshit 4th Circuit rulings, okay?” Ezra appears, stretching an arm between you and the men. “Let’s be a little more careful, take it to a booth, yeah?”

“Miss, I apologize on their behalf,” he starts and you take another centering breath because you really are not here for some hotshot lawyer’s apologies. This is your spot, and they’re fucking with your Thursday night nightcap.

But the brown eyes you’re met with are wide and sincere.

And something at the very core of you thrums momentarily with something you can’t name.

“Please, allow me to replace your wine and cover your tab for the night.” He’s already calling the barman over before you can assure him that’s really not necessary because they’ve fucked up your night already and you just want to go home.

“Could you please arrange a fresh glass of wine for this lovely lady, place her tab on the card I gave you, and may I have a shot glass of white wine. I need the white wine as quickly as you can, please. Thanks very much.”

And you’re still staring at those brown eyes.

Bristling and dumbstruck at the same time.

“Ezra,” he holds out a hand in belated introduction, and you offer a firm shake and your name in exchange.

“Sorry, a shot glass of white wine?” You quip as the bartender places it in front of Ezra.

He slips a red pocket square from his jacket and dips a corner into the shot glass.

“Apologies, may I?”

And inexplicably you turn in towards him on your bar stool as he dabs at the stain on your shirt.

Just over your heart.

“White wine will keep the stain from setting,” he proffers.

You crane your neck to the side, trying to settle your focus on cut glass bottles and not the stranger tending to the fine layer of cotton just above your left breast.

He’s gentle though. Respectful in a way you perhaps didn’t anticipate.

He smells of hinoki wood and worn leather.

“Right as rain,” he announces and takes half a step back before offering you the handkerchief. “If you want to hold that there to blot some of the excess.”

“Um, yeah, thank you. Thanks,” you hold the cloth over your heart as the bartender returns with your fresh glass of wine.

Ezra settles on the barstool next to you.

“How…did you know that?”

“About the wine?” He swallows a sip of bourbon. “Must’ve read it at some point and it just stuck.”

“Seems you’re a good man to have around in a crisis then,” you smile and tip your glass in his direction. He gently touches the side of his against it, before tapping the heavy base against the bar and taking another sip.

Everything he does is briefly fascinating.

“I apologize again for these kids,” he reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, producing a business card which he slides over to you face-down. “You should be all good with that,” he gestures at the handkerchief, “but I insist on you sending me the dry cleaning bill. If I’ve recalled incorrectly and it does stain, I will procure a replacement for you, you have my word.”

“That’s really not necessary,” you start and yet find yourself unable to stop, “and I’m not even sure it’s possible this is vintage—”

“Alexander McQueen, I know.”

You turn all the way towards him on your barstool now.

And his eyes glitter with your fascination as he runs his hand through the patch of white at his hairline.

“What are you reading,” he tips his head to the side as if to glimpse the cover of your book but he doesn’t break your gaze. Cheek dimpled with a half smile.

“Ovid. Metamorphoses.”

“For fun?” There’s a hint of surprise in his voice but it’s far from belittling.

“It’s…” you start before a smile splits your face, “yeah. For fun.”

And he echoes your grin.

“I re-read it for fun last year. I think the passage about Orpheus’ death is my favorite.”

“Fascinating,” you swallow a sip of your tempranillo. “Why that one?”

“Well, I believe it’s a commentary on both the unbridled rage of passion and a testament to the obstinate nature of true love.”

“Obstinate?” You incline your head incredulously. “That’s quite a choice.”

“And yet it holds true, does it not? Orpheus, arguably one of the most talented figures in Greek mythology,” and he’s gesturing broadly now, “able to enchant the very souls of feral beasts and move trees to bend their limbs just to be nearer his music.”

He jabs his finger into the bartop between you, “he moved Hades, both the realm and the deity himself, let’s not forget, correct?”

And you nod, amusement playing across your features.

“The earth and the underworld fell at his feet. And he shunned it all out of love for Eurydice.”

“And so what moral value do you place on obstinacy?” You ask.

“Obstinacy in love is the only way to experience it. To feel it so completely that you forsake everything else. Defy the world. For love. Fidelity to the wife that you betrayed by turning back.” Brown eyes are wide with his conviction.

He adds, “even Shakespeare said let it be virtuous to be obstinate.”

“Okay, in a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT context!” Your turn to erupt now, with arms thrown in the air where you’re met by his wide smile. “You cannot cherry pick that out of Coriolanus choosing to abandon his family out of sheer stubbornness, and frankly, contempt for his own people, to extol the virtues of love! Let it be virtuous to FORSAKE that love, is the whole point of that line.”

And this is the moment.

That Ezra falls in love.

And you’re not far behind.

Time slips from this point on. Patrons file in and out. More wine and whiskey is poured. Associates drunkenly clap him on the back as they make their way home, but none of it registers.

The world spins around the pair of you.

Until finally the bartender insists that he close his tab.

And you both step out onto a city street wet with the aftermath of a brief summer downpour.

“Thank you,” Ezra starts, “for the absolute pleasure of your company.”

He holds a tentative hand out, which you shake with a heartfelt “likewise.”

“Oh, your handkerchief,” you pull it from your pocket and hold it out to him.

“Keep it.” He smiles.

And you both spin on your heels. Proceeding in opposite directions.

But the warp and weft of the red cotton square that you keep rubbing between your fingers forces you to stop in your tracks.

You turn around.

And look back.

Meeting Ezra’s gaze from where he hasn’t moved a step.

He thumbs the corner of his lips, brown eyes locked on yours.

And you both move.

Urgent steps pulled by Fates’ string.

Colliding as you throw your arms around his neck and he locks you against him with biceps around your ribs.

Lips crashing together with the relief of a thousand lifetimes.

Lifetimes that you’ve known each other.

Lifetimes that you’ve lost each other.

And this lifetime. Having found each other again.

Taglist of folks who may be interested, as always, please do let me know if you'd prefer not to be tagged, or if you'd like to be added!

@morallyinept @iamskyereads @tinytinymenace @for-a-longlongtime @legendary-pink-dot

@oliveksmoked @nerdieforpedro @julesonrecord

Subpart headings are the meaning of Ezra's name in that section.

Orpheus' monologue included herein in italics is quoted from David Raeburn's 2004 translation of Ovid's Metamorphoses, published by Penguin Classics. The text of this translation just felt so Ezra that I had to include it in that form. If you'd like to hear it read by Hozier himself, head on over to his instagram circa summer 2020's Poetry Fridays for this and some other wonderful work.

This story references the version of Eurydice's death as precipitated by Aristaeus.

Láir means mare in Irish Gaelic.

"Let it be virtuous to be obstinate" is quoted from Coriolanus by William Shakespeare.

#prospect ezra #ezra prospect #ezra x reader #ezra x female reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #hozier drabble challenge #ohforficsake #talk refined

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take-everything-you-can · 11 months

Text

Yours Or Mine

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

A/N: So first let me just say it has been years since I've been inspired to write smut, but alas Eddie Munson has opened the floodgates. This will be the first installment of many to come as a sort of kink exploration series for Eddie and Reader. I just felt like the year anniversary of all of us loving this man would be the perfect time to post this!

I was so nervous to post this but I've had some amazing people in my corner. @astragreenwoode Thank you so much for everything that you do in editing my stories helping them flow effortlessly. I'm blessed to have you.

To the ever-so-lovely ladies @big-ope-vibes, @bimbobaggins69, and @munsonswife for beta reading and making me feel like posting this wasn't going to be the worst idea on the planet and letting me talk through my anxieties and slutty little Eddie thots.

also can't get over this amazing divider by @newlips

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem Reader ( Established relationship)

Word count: 3.9K

Tw: 18+ mdni (if you are underage gtfo this post .... seriously get lost) crude language, f receiving, m receiving, p in v sex unprotected ( pls use protection my people), subby switch if you squint, shower sex, needy Eddie I suppose, slight ball play, some soft dom Eddie

College ended up being harsher than you expected, but the full ride for the Cheerleading scholarship the school had given you was more than worth all the trouble you had to keep your grades up. You proudly proved to everyone that the whole ‘all cheerleaders are dumb’ stereotype was just that; an unfounded myth meant to diminish all those involved. After working your ass off throughout High School, you ended up picking one not too far from home. Having to care for your other six siblings alone was enough to drive your parents insane, so the fact that you were willing to make the commute made you an angel in their eyes.

Today ended up being especially exciting for two reasons; cheer practice would be held at your old high school, which also meant you were able to spend time with your beloved metalhead of a boyfriend. Your coach ended up dragging out practice to be longer and harsher than usual with seemingly endless drills and unnecessarily cruel critiques of your performance. It was a punishment for being late.

Usually, that was something that would’ve set you off, but if you were being totally honest, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You welcomed it as a distraction for why exactly you came to practice so late. It was for a good reason, you swear; Eddie decided to take you on a ‘Side Quest,’ as he put it.

He took you on a small detour; pulling you into the nearest supply closet, out of the crowded hallway, and getting his hands on you as soon as possible. Almost as soon as he closed the door behind you, he used all his strength to pin you against the wood of the door. You giggled as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, leaving a torturously slow trail of pecks and nips up your jaw. He hungrily stopped at your lips, gently tugging your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Eddie. . .” you breathed out, trying your best to compose yourself as he dragged his hand from your cheek to the curve of your cleavage rising and falling with your heartbeat beneath your uniform. “We. . .we can’t do this right now, baby. I’m gonna be late. You’re gonna be late.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as the cold contrast of his rings on your bare cleavage made your body break out in goosebumps. His deep brown orbs started to darken as they threatened to pull you in and never let you go. As much as you wanted to just lean in and forget about the rest of the world outside this closet, you mustered all your strength to stop him from going forward. You giggled as you placed a hand on either side of his face, bringing his head up to make your lips touch.

“Later, Sweet Boy. I’ll still be here after practice, okay?” you whispered.

A small groan sounded from the back of Eddie’s throat; an incredibly needy sound as he pressed his forehead against yours. Even as he held onto you and batted his doe-like eyes to hypnotize you into staying, he didn’t go any further. He may be relentless, but he respects you.

“Ya promise?” he whined against your mouth.

You hummed in agreement, blindly dragging your hand around to find him as you hooked your pinkies together. He savored the kiss as long as you let him before you left the small room, wanting to imprint it in your minds to give both of you something to look forward to after you were finished with practice.

Around the time your team finished and made their way to the girl’s locker room, Eddie was fresh out of his latest session with the boys from Hellfire. You were the last one to take a shower as the other girls left, planning on meeting up with Eddie where he usually parked his van just like you did every Friday. But he had other plans today, ones that couldn’t wait any longer. As he watched the remaining members of Hellfire and the other members of your team leave the school parking lot, Eddie snuck back into the building to make sure you kept your earlier promise.

The Dungeon Master shamelessly walked into the girl’s locker room and his eyes locked on you as you were just peeling off the sweat-soaked cheer uniform. Every inch of you was flushed in tone; the bottom of your hair damp and your body was covered in a thin layer of sweat as you let your top fall to the floor. You let out a soft moan as you freed your sticky breasts from the confines of your bra. It was familiar to him; the same one he had thrown into the corner of your bedroom as he relentlessly took you to your peak just a few nights ago.

He debated on just staying there, watching you clean your body, but the twitch in his pants he got just from the sight of you told him otherwise. Eddie craved to get a taste of your salty, flushed skin before you had the chance to wipe yourself clean. He was never able to hold out from touching you for long, no matter how hard he had tried in the past. You were just as magnetic as the day he met you. What was it that people said? ‘Opposites Attract?’

Eddie leaned himself against the set of lockers closest to the showers, crossing his arms against his chest as he cleared his throat to capture your attention.

You jumped in shock as you let out a quiet squeak. Instinctually, you used your arms to cover your chest as you turned around, not expecting anyone to be in here with you, especially not Eddie. But at the sight of him, you lowered your arms and sighed in relief but you rolled your eyes a bit. He was supposed to be cleaning out his van. He had told you it was trashed by the boys after a gig at The Hideout and said he would make sure the passenger side was clean before letting you ride in it this morning over the phone. He now stood before you, a gleam of awe in his eyes.

“See something you like, Munson?” you laughed out, turning so that you were innocently looking over your shoulder and gave him a little shake of your ass that made your cheer skirt follow.

The smirk on his face deepened and made his dimples stand more prominent on his face; it was a look he reserved just for you. He pushed himself off the lockers and slowly but surely made his way toward you.

“I sure do like what I see. But. . .you look like you could use a hand there, Sweetheart,” he purred, sticking his tongue out slightly between his teeth.

“Oh, really?” you teased, meandering your way over to meet him in the middle. He took your hand in his and allowed him to twirl you like you were waltzing, making the short little skirt that adorned your body send him into a trance. You watched his eyes size you up, trailing down from your head to your feet as you gripped the side of your skirt in frustration. How long was he going to take before holding you up on your promise?

“Yeah. . .what’s that old saying? ‘Reach out to lend a hand. . .not to bend the heart,’ or however the fuck it goes?” Eddie slithers his arms around your waist to pull your bare body flush against his clothed form, tilting his head as he gave your nose a small peck. He teasingly kissed either side of your mouth, before pulling you in to crash them against his.

“Fucking finally,” you thought to yourself; though, the heat in your belly only grew hotter now.

“Would you bend my heart, Eddie?” you whispered against his lips, almost as if telling him a secret.

“I wouldn’t dare, Princess. . .” he muttered back against you. As he made your heart flutter when his hands buried in the roots of your hair, Eddie twisted and turned your body around to bring your ass against his growing bulge. He pushed you against the shower's wall and made you arch your back, rough and gentle all at once.

“Now. . .bending you over, on the other hand. . .” he growled into your ear, sending a shiver straight down to your core as he lifted your skirt to reveal your pussy and ass practically swallowing your panties.

“That’s a whole ‘nother thing,” Eddie finished, giving your bare ass a tender slap that made you whine and jump.

The giggle that leaves you turns into a moan as he unwrapped his hand from your damp hair and tilted your head to mash his lips against yours once more. As he turns you around, the cold tile meets your back. Playing with the hem of his shirt before sliding your hand underneath it, you ghost over the trail of hair that led to the bulge in his pants now throbbing with desire.

As you walk your fingers up his chest with a feather-light touch, you blindly trail over his tattoos engraved in your memory. You had spent many of your shared hours together tracing over the black lines etched into Eddie’s skin. On your laziest of days together, he used your body as a blank canvas to paint your skin a masterpiece of his own, purples and pinks staining your skin for days to come.

Smirking with mischief, you let your hand travel down to tease his cock by cupping him through his pants ever so slightly.

“. . .fuck,” Eddie stutters out, making you whine as he unlocks your lips. “I need to taste you... .now,” he spoke, his tone dangerously laced with need.

Eddie tugs you to sit on the small bench below the showerhead, lowering himself to his knees as he pulls your skirt and panties down. Gripping each thigh, he jerks you slightly forward to get a better angle before burying his face in between your legs. He kneads the soft meat of your thighs on either side, leaving small bruises in the shape of his fingertips and the tender marks of his teeth. Looking up at you with lust-blown eyes, he waits for your permission to continue, Once you give him the knowing nod of your head, he slows down as he notices just how drenched your pussy really is.

“Mmmm, such a pretty little pussy,” he mutters against you, torturously dragging his mouth everywhere but where you needed him to be.

“Tight, juicy, and all mine. Isn’t that right, baby?”

You gasp as you wait for him to touch you, frantically nodding. But that wasn’t enough; not for him.

“I’m sorry,” he laughs against the skin of your thigh. “I couldn’t hear you, Sweetheart. What did you just say?”

You simultaneously whined and groaned with frustration.

“Yes,” you gasped. “It’s yours, Eddie. It’s your pussy. Now, please, please just fuck me.”

“Such a desperate little slut. I’m right here, baby. ‘M not going anywhere. Not when I have such a tasty little snack on a silver platter right in front of me.”

You want nothing more at that moment than to tell him to shut the hell up and stop playing with his food. But before you can utter a word, he cuts you off by flattening his tongue against you. He licks up your arousal from the bottom of your opening to your clit, circling the bundle of nerves for a little while before wrapping his lips around it. You swear to God that Eddie’s trying to destroy you, to somehow devour your soul as he does the same to your pussy. Everything he does to you drives you crazy; severs your train of thought from its track. All that’s swirling around in your mind is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

The sound of his tongue lapping up your slick and sliding through your folds coaxed a moan out of you that echoes off the tiled walls of the locker room. It feeds Eddie’s ego full as he moans against your soaking mound, the vibrations of his hums igniting the fire in you and sending the flames higher and higher. As your legs quiver at the intensity and the coil in your stomach starts to loom, he pushes his hands against your thighs to keep you from slipping off the bench and against the wall. You dig your hands into the roots of his dark curls, earning another hum of appreciation before detaching his lips from you to circle his tongue around your clit again.

Eddie looks up at you with a coy smile and hazy eyes, the mixture of your arousal and his spit dripping down his chin as he latches his mouth around you again. He effortlessly slides his finger in and out of you. The sinful slurping sounds that fill the air send waves of phantom pleasure washing over you. It felt something akin to a dream; déjà vu. You gasp as Eddie slips a second finger into you, the cool metal of his rings bumping against your entrance making your pussy flutter around him at the unexpected contrast.

“Shhiiitt, you’re takin’ my fingers so well, Sweetheart. Can’t wait to have that tight little pussy wrapped around me,” he purred against your clit as he curled his fingers against your sweet spot. He can tell by your breath and the way you tremble beneath his mouth that you’re about to snap. It encouraged him to frantically pick up the pace of his fingers and playfully shake his head back against your clit, bringing you over the edge and sending your body into pure bliss.

Eddie wasted no time drinking up all that released from you, licking up every drop from between the lips of your pussy to where it was caked on the inside of your thighs. It was ambrosia on his tongue, salty sweat and musk mixed with his spit and your release. He was so glad he decided to stop you from showering when he did; you wouldn’t have ended up tasting nearly as good as you did now.

The fog from your mind started to clear as you come back down to earth again, Your breathing returned to normal again after Eddie lowered your thighs back onto his shoulders. He snuggles himself into the embrace of your legs, leaning his cheek into your palm that traveled down from his hair.

"Well I'd say you definitely lent a helping hand, but now it's my turn pretty boy." He laughs as he brings his fingers to your mouth, pressing them past your teeth and letting them settle, as you suck your arousal off of him. Moaning through closed eyes basking in the reminder of how Eddie made you feel on top of the world, you were gonna return the favor.

He had always adored when you would get that look in your eyes after making you cum. Your eyes would get a bit glassy and your lids would draw almost as if fighting sleep. No, you weren't fighting to sleep, you were just turning the cogs trying to figure out how you were going to please your man. You had turned the shower on to the hottest it would go, never reaching past a lukewarm. If Hawkins was one thing it was never efficient.

“ I don’t think it’s very fair that I have to be naked and you get to be fully clothed. I think we need to fix that.” he took a tendril of hair that had fallen into your face and tucked it behind your ear.

“Well if you still have the ability to think straight I don't think I've done my job right princess.” He pulls the shirt from the nape of his neck up and over his head and tosses it towards the pile you had started on the tile floor. Before he can reach for them you are already lowering yourself to your knees as your hands unbutton his jeans and slip his zipper down slowly looking up at him through your lashes.

“ Fuck me, man.” It comes out breathy and hitched as you tug his jeans and boxers to his ankles. Watching as his dick springs from the second tug down, smacking his stomach as his precum leaves a mess making your mouth water, a reflex making you bite down so hard on your bottom lip you swear you can taste the metallic trickle of blood. He kicks his pants to the side as he takes a seat on the bench you were on not long ago.

The tile was biting into your knees but you had been through worse trying to suck Eddie off, Skull Rock had a particularly awful patch of prickly trees that Eddie just loves to stand beneath. Looking up at him now he had nothing but love for you in those eyes.

His breathing hitches as you lick the mess off his stomach, mixing it on your tongue as you let a glob of drool drop to the tip of his dick as you take your hand and rub it along his shaft. The size of him always had your thighs clenching. He was length and girth in all the right places. The thought of him filling you had your arousal dripping onto the tile below you. You lowered your head taking Eddie into your mouth swirling your tongue around his tip and across his slit as he clutched a fist into your hair as you began to bob up and down a perfect rhythm you had found he fell for.

“ Holy shit, Baby, Just like that, yes fuuuck, Just like that .” His head was leaned back against the wall, eyes closed as the water from the shower mist hit his chest rolling down his flexed stomach, cooling the heat that was rising within him. You could see a small thank you on his lips as he held out his breath feeling you take him to his hilt and hearing the sound of your throat gag against him, the vibrations of the moan sending a shiver down his spine.

You had slipped off of his length and licked down to the sack underneath, hands working along as you found your way. A small whimper from Eddie as you took one of his balls into your mouth and sucked along the skin feeling the weight of his need making you moan and Eddie's grip on your hair tightened. He pulled up off of him with a wet pop, his balls were extremely sensitive. A lesson you learned on a rainy day in May as your boardroom hit rock bottom and Eddie had looked like a god coming out of the shower. Letting the spit fall as your hands continuously worked their way up and down his length.

“ Come on honey Please.” you let out a giggle, one that made him grip your hair hard, pulling back until you were face to face with him.

“ Who's desperate now?” Instead of words, you knew he would make you pay for laughing at his plea. Standing fast as he bent you over again just as he did when you first started this little act except this time he brutally slammed his cock straight into you. A whine ripped through you gasping for air around his moans. They were muffled against your skin bending with you as you found a grip on the wall in front of you as the water made everything around you slick.

Once your hold was solid his grip on your hips let you know his pace was about to be fast and rough. Slamming into you over and over the sounds of his balls slapping against the arousal that was dripping from you and echoing off the walls. The dirty thoughts of how anyone could walk in at any moment to check and make sure that someone was not in any harm, and would instead find you a moaning mess, getting railed in the best way by the freak of Hawkins High. A freak he was indeed. You look at your wrist and see the light bruises he had left not long ago from some handcuffs and his headboard. This then led you to another thought of how he had used those handcuffs in the hideout one night after a long show, a night where he had promised to lock up for the owner but instead, he had you cuffed to a wall and set up on his amp as he played riffs through your orgasms. He had recorded some little tapes for himself. The breathless gruff in his voice brought you back to now.

“ You in that pretty little head baby? You keep squeezing the fuck out of me with that tight pussy of yours. What's got, you so bot-thered baby? Come on we got all weekend to fuck those thoughts out. Just let go, baby, just let go. Come on sweet thing.“

You can feel him closing in on his climax. The hitch in his pace is a telltale sign. You moan and mewl under him pushing back with more pressure as your own climax begins to build and hit that high.

“ No words hunny? Dick just that good hmm?” you nod as the coil snaps for the second time. Throwing your head back into his shoulder as you ride out your high.

“ Yes Eddie! God Yes! Always so good to me. Always. So. good. To. Me.” as you gush around him he thrust into you a few more times as the ropes of his pleasure begin to paint your walls. The grunts and moans of his release could make you come again just by the way he grips onto you, making sure that you are glued to him. Every single drop of him sealed within you.

He falls flush to you slipping out with a hiss and turns you in his arms as you both stand wrapped into each other's arms. He kisses your shoulder and the crook of your neck. You squish your face against the flat of his chest and the thick of his arm as you let your eyelids drift closed just reveling in the moment as the water washes over you both. He nudges your ear with his nose as you turn your face up to him he catches your lips in a hungry yet slow kiss, letting his forehead fall to yours.

“ You know I love you, pretty girl. You know that right?” you hum a satisfied tune into his mouth as you kiss him softly.

“ I love you more handsome.” he lets out a low laugh.

” Not possible .” bringing your face back to his chest.

“ Yes possible .” Then everything goes Dark. You can feel Eddie but you can’t see him. You conclude that a janitor had turned off the lights, thinking everyone had gone home for the night. Not the first time that it had happened and it would probably not be the last. But thankfully Eddie being Eddie knew exactly how to get you out, another time he would save you, your hero. Your freak, Your love.

#eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #hellcheer #eddie munson imagine #eddie stranger things #fuck me up munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie fluff #soft dom eddie munson

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dedfly · 27 days

Note

Hello dear, random idea just came up from my mind..what if..Shadow Milk x Faerie reader but with a slight little mermaid storyline? Basically the reader want to explore around the earthbread (and is fallen for certain Cookie?) but the reader is unable to leave the beast yeast because the reader had to guard the silver tree, on one night Shadow Milk try to communicate with reader through the dream and offering the reader to become 'common (normal) cookie' with one condition..(and is up to you-)

(Take ur time dear :> )

-☕️🌹

This is a great idea and wow, it's crazy

Shadow Milk cookie x reader

† This is justa blessing for him

† A whole guardian with big dreams and a love interest who most likely won't reciprocate theirfeelings because he will never notice a some guardian. P e r f e c t

† You always wanted something more and what’s wrong with having some dreams? however, you begin to realize that your usual dreams have begun to become a whole daydreaming

As if your imagination was literally pushing you to change, to escape, but how? You are just one of those guardians who invest their whole lives in the Great Goal. But just standing and protecting the tree is not for you and you know it. You want something more, this world full of adventures

And this mysterious voice in your dreams thinks so too

You haven't shared your dreams and plans with anyone else. For what? They won't understand.

But oh, this gentle voice understands, how good it is that your "subconscious" helps you at least in your dreams. Supports and guides.

† Imagine certain cookie what readerloves is Pure Vanilla or Elder fairy cookie. Yeah what would be messy

† And fun. Come on Shadow milk cookie would try not to gag while trying to manipulate you into doing what he wants using your love for them

† He's just being dramatic but yeah he's not happy about it. Not because he felt bad but because he is concerned about your "unique taste"

† bro is a hater

† Shadow Milk cookie made sure to help you, to keep you on his side. "Listen to me little fairy, you have a grand future waiting"

Unfortunately, most of your colleagues were not present on security for some reason, which is why you were put on post longer than expected. You lack of sleep and energy, you have become more irritable and honestly you would just like to finish this unbearable work, just run away or cut down this damn tree. Wait. It was clear as day, no tree, no problem. You will finally live the life you want.

† As if all the danger that will come from cutting down this tree has faded into the background, a voice gently whispers to you, encouraging you to get rid of the tree

† But the voice in your head offered you a perfect idea, just gave up your wings (Or rather your fairy magic) and chop down the tree and he would make sure to help you out

†Just a little tiny crack would be enough

†Just chop here and there use your spear or whatever weapon just make some damage and your problems would disappear

†No, this is wrong, you managed to catch yourself in these terrible thoughts and you nipped them in the bud

†You are scared and confused, as soon as you told your colleague about this you were immediately kicked out of the guard, or rather you were transferred to another department and given the day off

† Yes yes it is anticlimactic but come on look at fairies they are more gentle with that, especially with dealing with beasts

† if you already fall under the influence of one of the beasts, you will simply be moved away from the tree. Most likely to some kind of reconnaissance detachments

† so you safe, until Shadow Milk actually break free

† and I assure you he would be pissed what he didn't get his way, especially what he wasted so much time with you

† And if it's something more romantic he would also be pissed what he was there for you and you just "betrayed" him

† But come on its not like he really would help you. You want to see the world not destroyed dessert, you want to see civilizations at peace not wars

________

Actually I thought at first with whole little mermaid thing. Like reader giving up their wings for something but eh it was a bit raw for me :p but I tried my best

#cookie run kingdom #cookie run #crk x reader #crk x you #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk crk #shadow milk cookie x you

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bakustark · 2 years

Note

If it's not trouble, can we have 46 of this for Yuma Mukami?

(sorry for my bad English)

Punishment | Mukami Yuuma/Reader

46. “Do you know what happens when you misbehave?”

Warning(s): nsfw (minors dni), gn!reader, size difference, size kink, teasing, enthusiastic consent, blood drinking, biting, groping, spit kink, choking, mild breath play, nipple play, possessive behavior, creampie (mild breeding kink if you squint), overstimulation, etc.

Notes: brief descriptions of Yuuma’s body are inspired by @gingerall’s body headcanons art. Please go check him out! Also this was written while listening to a Doja Cat playlist lmao

Prompt list

Your boyfriend was big.

Over six feet of muscle on muscle, he towered above everyone in the academy, his own brothers included. With freckled, sun kissed skin and a head of sandy brown hair tied in a messy bun at the back of his head, Yuuma was — simply put — your obsession. You could go on and on about how breathtaking he looked when he was working on his garden, the thick bands of muscle in his arms rippling as he pulled unwanted weeds from the soil with his fingers. You could fill books with poetry about the way he stretched his arms above his head, thick pectorals straining against the fabric as the bottom of his shirt rode up to give you a peek of the muscled planes of his abdomen and the sprinkle of hair trailing down into his pants. You’d dare preach that his body was carved by the gods themselves, a well endowed blessing made to be worshiped with everything you had.

He was massive.

And you loved it.

So, who could blame you for teasing him throughout the night? Brushing against him as you walked past him in the hallway on the way to your next class, coyly running your fingers down his arms and shooting him a smile over your shoulder. Was it wrong to press your lips against the little dimple on his chin and nip at the curve of his jaw before ducking out of his reach? Was it a sin to place your palm over the firm swell of his chest, gently squeezing your fingers around the delicious plushness of his pectorals? He was so easy to annoy, that warm flush of pink and that smug grin of his falling into an annoyed scowl when he realized you weren’t going to continue touching him. No, it wasn’t wrong.

Not when it got you pinned against a desk in a lonely classroom with Yuuma’s large body covering yours.

Your breath came out in excited pants as you looked up at him, unable to keep a helplessly enamored smile off your face. God, you were so in love with him. His large fingers wrapped around your wrists, keeping them pinned against your sides as he glared down at you with those pretty brown eyes. “Ya think it’s funny, little lamb? Teasing me like that?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. You bit back a groan when he wedged a thick thigh between your legs, bumping against your crotch. Yuuma’s lips brushed against your ear, his cool breath causing gooseflesh to rise along the length of your body as he leaned down, “Do you know what happens when you misbehave?” His voice was a low rumble that you felt as much as you heard. “You get punished.”

All the air in your lungs left you in a rush at the feeling of his fangs nipping at your earlobe. You hissed at the sting before releasing a shaky breath when the flat of his tongue collected the little crimson droplets. He hummed at the taste, ducking down to sink his teeth into the column of your throat. One of his hands left your wrist to bury into your hair, fingernails scratching at your scalp. You tilted your head back to give him more access, your newly freed hand gripping at his uniform to pull him even closer. The sounds of him swallowing mouthfuls of your blood, every slurp and quiet groan of enjoyment, made your hips thrust against his thigh in hopes for some relief for the throbbing heat of your core.

Yuuma pulled his fangs out of your neck, his fist retching your head to the slide to lick a broad stripe over his bite. Pleasure shot down your spine. “Fuck, Yuuma—” You whined, pulling helplessly on his shirt.

You heard him laugh at you before he was stepping away, always a little mean when it came to these things. Faster than your eyes could follow, his hands made quick work of your shoes along with your bottoms, heaving you up on the desk to settle between your spread thighs like he belonged there. Yuuma put a hand around your throat, adding just a little bit of pressure to change your breathing pattern, and leaned down to cover your mouth with his. You eagerly parted your lips for his tongue, sighing when the taste of him and your own blood met your tastebuds.

His other hand slid down to grip at your thighs, fingers digging into your soft skin with the intent of leaving an array of dark bruises come morning, so obviously Yuuma-shaped that no one could deny you were his— and he was yours. Yuuma’s head tilted to the right, lips pursing over your tongue as he sucked on the length of it, his thumb stroking over your pulse. He greedily swallowed up your moans and groans, and you squirmed against him, wanting more, more, more, more.

You snuck a hand between your bodies with the intention of giving yourself some relief, but his hand left your thigh to pull it away. Yuuma pulled away from your mouth with a lewd smack, leaving your lips and chin glossy with a mixture of your combined saliva and residues of your blood. He smirked down at you, tutting, and tightened his hold on your throat until you wheezed. “None of that, lamb. This is your punishment, remember?” He licked up the spit on your chin, laughing against you when you chased after his lips.

With a final squeeze, Yuuma’s hand left your throat to undo his belt, and you watched eagerly as he shoved his pants and underwear down to his knees. His cock, large and thick like the rest of him, was flushed and drooling a pearly stream of precum. You made a disappointed sound when he batted your hands away from him. Yuuma fished out a familiar bottle from his pocket, pouring a generous amount of lube along his length. He curled a hand around his cock, lathering himself up with firm strokes, the schlick schlick schlick sounds of it making your toes curl. It didn’t matter if you were going to be punished or not, he would never force himself inside you without lubrication— and even then he was careful. Your arousal was dripping onto the desk under you at this point, his eyes zeroing in on your core with a filthy grin.

“Was this what you were thinking about all day, lamb?” Yuuma asked you, letting out a small hiss as he ran the pad of his thumb over the flushed tip of his cock. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, swallowing the excess saliva in your mouth. He paused suddenly, making your eyebrows furrow, before he was pulling off the top of his uniform. “Or was it these?” He cupped his chest with his hands, grin only growing when you let out an unabashed groan at the sight. “Ha, you little pervert.”

“Yuuma!” You cried out, body trembling with the effort of keeping your hands on the desk. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I am going to die, okay? I’m gonna fucking die!” You wouldn’t, of course, but it sure felt like it.

His body shook with his laughter, and he moved closer. “Okay, okay,” Yuuma’s cock was pushing into you then, the sheer girth of it making your walls sting pleasantly. He kept going, slow and steady, until the entirety of his length was inside you. Your mind always felt a little foggy when he was inside you, helplessly drunk off him. Yuuma let out a breath, his eyes fluttering at the snug fit. There was a soft, wet squish from where you were joined as he experimentally rolled his hips, heavy sack settling against your ass. He buried his nose in your hair, humming, “Oh, lamb, always so greedy for me.”

“Always,” You nodded desperately, struggling to lock your ankles behind his back. The reminder of your size difference made you clench around his cock with a moan. “God, you’re so big, love.” You pawed at his chest, leaning in to catch a caramel colored nipple into your mouth while fondling the other with greedy fingers. He hissed, a hand tangling in your hair to keep you against his chest.

“Fuck.” Came the choked curse, and his hips slowly drew back until only the tip of his cock rested within you. Another experimental thrust had you moaning into his chest, peering up at him with glassy eyes as your lips busied themselves with bruising those pretty nipples of his. He looked down at you with flushed cheeks, sandy brown curls messier than before as he gently scratched at your scalp with the sigh of your name. That was your only warning before he was fucking into you with enough force to make your thighs sting. The tip of his cock jab-jab-jabbed at that wonderful place inside you that made stars burst across your vision.

Your eyes threatened to roll into the back of your head when one of his hands came down to rub you in time with his thrusts. Your legs shook around him, and you let go of his nipple with a pop. “Yuuma,” You tilted your head up to press heated kisses against the curve of his jaw, “you feel so good, love. So fucking big.”

Yuuma let out a strangled groan at your words, turning his face to capture your lips. Like always, he’s quickly suckling your tongue into his mouth, head bobbing as he eats up every moan and sigh and cry of his name. You part for breath, but you’re quickly brought into another utterly filthy kiss by his hand in your hair. You ran the tip of your tongue along the length of his fangs, a hand still groping at his chest while the other traveled down his muscled back to grab a handful of his firm ass. “Ah, coming—” He panted into your mouth, his hips losing their steady rhythm for something desperate and frantic, and you nipped at his bottom lip.

“Please,” You found yourself begging, nails digging into his arse as you try to pull him impossibly closer. “Inside, please.”

Yuuma pressed his forehead against yours, eyes screwing shut and mouth falling open with a loud groan. You cooed at him, pressing sweet kisses around his face even as you’re coming apart at the feeling of his cum flooding your insides. His hips flexed with every pulse of his cock, seemingly endless ropes of cum spurting inside you until they drip from where you’re joined, making a mess of your inner thighs as it drips down to pool on the desk. A sense of satisfaction settled within you like molasses, making your limbs heavy as they curl around him. He shuffled for a moment, and you heard him typing something on his phone— probably ordering a limo for the two of you. You rubbed your cheek against his own, content.

Until he started rubbing your bundle of nerves with slick fingers, laughing into your ear when you made a confused noise. “This is a punishment, remember?” Yuuma pressed a mocking kiss on your temple even as you squirmed at the near painful pleasure, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. He started rocking his hips, slow and steady as his cock hardened inside you. “Get ready, little lamb, ‘cause I’m gonna make you come until you’re begging me to stop.”

#request #n/s/f/w #n/sfw #mukami yuuma x reader #yuuma mukami x reader #yuuma mukami #mukami yuuma #diabolik lovers x reader #diabolik lovers #dialovers x reader #dialovers #diabolik lovers smut

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llondonfog · 5 months

Note

Hey! I just got a horrible wonderful AU idea and I need to share cause I think you might enjoy it.

A Silver Owl Silver is given a backhanded blessing by Melenor for eternal youth, and he will not age until he finds his one true love. He ends up in the castle still till modern day mourning how he couldn't protect the kingdom ( how could that not be his true love, did he not truely love his home? his parents? How can he think of he loyal people and not truly care for them?) and feeling like he's failed as a knight, until this curious lil babybat fae wanders in to explore the ruins. ( big bug eyes too long teeth and pointy ears he needs to grow into)

Silver ends up taking in Lilia and moving into this quiet little cottage. As the years pass Silver starts looking towards the future again and looking forward to seeing Lilia grow, for once truly feeling like he has been blessed, but realizes something horrible and wonderful as he looks in the mirror one morning.

He has laugh lines around his eyes.

the way that this ask has haunted me ever since i read it.

i've talked about a few role reversal aus with a friend but this!! the thought of silver being cursed with eternal youth until he finds his true love, and then the doubled agony of realizing that he will age and die well before lilia, leaving his beloved child all alone in this world!!!

ohhh but the scene of him finding babybat lilia,,,, he's a homely little thing, all eyes and fangs and ears and wings, but silver feels drawn to him instantly— even more so once he realizes the child has no family waiting on his return. silver definitely carries a lot of scars from those early days of raising lilia, patiently bearing the love nips from his fangs and the teething of a baby bat, along with the thin lines from his claws when he digs them into silver's pant legs and sleeves to clamber up his body and perch on his shoulder, equally attached to the strange human who has granted him a home.

it gives silver a purpose, looking after lilia, something to throw himself wholly in once more. he adores and is awed by everything that the boy is capable of— from his magic, his flying abilities, to his prowess at the sword, and lilia THRIVES under the praise. (thinking about comparisons to how canon silver was raised to this au; silver is infinitely more patient and practical when teaching lilia how to focus his magic).

also just some silly parallel moments to canon— silver gets caught in a snowstorm on his way back from making a long and arduous trek to a nearby human village to get lilia a boardgame he had been curious about for his birthday. lilia frantically swoops through the valley and forests to find him, scolding his father harshly when he sees the young man nearly succumbing to the frigid elements (he's much more brash and vocal with his exasperation to silver, almost like sebek in a way? but oh, how he loves his father and will turn his fangs and claws on anyone who dares to threaten silver!! idk I JUST REALLY LIKE TSUNDERE FAE LILIA PRIOR TO HIS DOMESTICATION). (also the thought that this is the beginning of silver's human weaknesses beginning to creep back in as he nearly catches hypothermia).

but the laughter lines. he can't hide these, how cruel to magic them away behind a glamour, and lilia either REFUSES to accept the truth or tries to reject the depth of their attachment??? i keep thinking of some awful moment where lilia is distraught and shouts that it must be true, humans are liars all along when he thought that he'd be together with his father forever, and running away instead of having to deal with the horrible nature of silver's curse (cue a panicked and frantic silver who chases after him— would be a real shame if something happened that would highlight the true depths of his mortality now!!)

anyways, i adore this concept, i need to devote more thought to it when i'm feeling better aaaaaa

#lettie's asks #twisted wonderland silver #twst silver #twst lilia #lilia vanrouge #diasomnia #ahhhh i have more thoughts but my brain is dead from cramps #please i'm just struck by the image of babybat lilia and silver.......#twst spoilers

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tired-biscuit · 1 year

Text

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: odontophilia (teeth fetish), oral fixation. biting, lots of kissing, mentions of oral sex (f!receiving), very self-indulgent stuff. // 18+ mdni, fem!reader

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 0.8k

masterlist

Thinking about Kiba, well, his teeth, specifically.

Besides his keen sense of smell, they are Kiba's pride and joy - his teeth. Are a part of him that makes him visually unique, when compared to other cute boys you know. Are something he tends to show off, which can be expected if you take his rather complacent personality into account.

To be honest, it's all fair and justified. Being blessed with a pretty set like that, who wouldn't grin as wide as he does whenever he doesn't feel like wearing his signature scowl? Who wouldn't show them off a little? He can't even be blamed for it.

And as for you, well, you also love Kiba's teeth. Perhaps even more than he does.

His mouth moves constantly after all, always doing something - anything, tugging at your attention. You just can't help but love how his pearly whites light up his entire face when his smile becomes almost too big for it, and two adorable dimples form in his cheeks as a result.

Love how he has a tendency to drag his tongue along the front of them whenever he's thinking really hard - which is rare, but surprisingly possible if he actually tries. Love how he uses them to chew on those hard candies he likes so much with zero effort whatsoever, making his entire mouth taste like strawberries and tinting it bright red just like the fruit, too.

And besides all of that, you also love how his teeth sometimes click against your own whenever he pulls you in for a hasty kiss. Love how they make a thrill surge through your center whenever your own tongue traces the pointy ends of the fangs he's always been so proud of, and your kisses turn way more feverish because of it.

Love how your body grows hot as he sinks them into your bottom lip every once in a while; sometimes even drawing blood if he gets too eager and impatient during the long make out sessions you make him have with you. All of that.

And you swear that they grow even bigger whenever you play with him and test his already thin line of patience during those sessions; kissing him and grinding against him as you sit on his lap, turning him absolutely insatiable.

His canines start glistening with drool, flashing you their sharpness each time he pulls back to part his lips and take a deep breath. And they look so fucking appealing; those wretched fangs of his. They draw you right in, make you force him to open his mouth a fraction wider, so that you can slip your tongue inside and just lick them whilst your hands caress his face to keep him still; fingers tangling into his thick chestnut hair to try and turn him docile for a change.

And he groans as you do it - as you lick his teeth. He groans, and curses, and bucks his hips into yours like an animal, especially when your lips purse slightly and you start to suck on his incisor. As you turn so messy, multiple thin strings of saliva connecting your panting mouths that you simply refuse to allow to part. As you glide your tongue over and over across the damn fang; until you're so delirious that you cut yourself against it and the taste of iron pools into his mouth and drives him completely insane.

He flips you both around then, because enough is fucking enough, and pins you against the mattress in a matter of seconds. He uses his weight to keep you still, starts covering you in bite marks and lewd hickeys that only stop paving their prominent paths down your body when he feels the need to scold you for fucking around by whispering the dirtiest of things only he could come up with into your ear.

And then his head winds up between your legs, your hands fisting his hair again, and you're squirming on top of the bed; crying because it hurts whenever he bites and nips at the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, but it hurts so good.

He eases the ache by licking it and blowing cool air onto it, repeating the same painful process over and over again, until you promise that you won't drive him up the wall like that ever again, that you just can't help it, that his teeth are just too pretty.

And when your waterline is burning because of the constant tears, and your mouth is running on never-ending apologies and compliments, legs shaking from the occasional languid swipe of tongue he gives to your sticky little cunt that's so needy you might just burst, he laughs.

"Are you gonna cum for me if I give you a big smile, pretty?" he says, sinking two of his thick fingers inside you; stretching your tiny, drenched hole. "Mm? Are ya gonna spill if I grin just for you?"

You're nodding frantically, your hands pressed against your tits as you're trying to calm down your sobbing and quick-paced breaths.

And the moment he obliges, finally gifting you the grin; you're done for.

#kiba x reader #kiba smut #naruto smut

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shieldofiron · 9 months

Note

Trans femme re8 harringrove! Some soft porn in Lady billies giant bathtub!! (Maybe the bloodbath XD it's your choice!)

Yesssss. Lets bless each other with some hot sexy t4t lesbian sex.

TW dysphoria

also TW Blood everywhere, bro. TW Vampire Biting

Comparison was the thief of joy. Stevie knew this, it was practically a mantra at this point. It just hurt to compare herself to the other girls, so she tried her best to nip that right in the bud. She had put in the effort to be a girl, she had put in the time, and honestly, the money for it.

Still, her brain wasn't always on the same page. It hurt, to see effortlessness where she had to put in the damn work. It hurt, to look in the mirror. So some days it was easier not to look.

And then, everything had gone so spectacularly to shit. Her wife was gone. Their child, gone too. Nightmares became real again: And Stevie was too tired to look in the mirror, which honestly was probably a blessing at this point.

And then she'd come here. And comparison... well, comparison was hard.

Lady Billie was beautiful. Terrifying, but oh so beautiful. Like the barbies Stevie had stolen when she was a kid, but pale from being hidden in the closet. She was built like it too, mile long legs, full pouty lips, long blonde hair.

A real life vampire Barbie.

She thought Stevie was sort of funny. In her loose hoodie and jeans. Small, though Stevie was tall for a woman. But not compared to Billie.

Stevie kept waiting for the awful words, questions. The teasing look that cis women could have, like they were in on some sort of joke, and the joke was you. Being trans and butch, Stevie was used to it. Her gender wasn't always something girls "got." It sometimes felt like she was the only one in the world who got it.

But the questions never came. Lady Billie just looked with those sky blue eyes. After they'd gotten past the whole, "let me slice you to ribbons" part, it seemed like Lady Billie... wanted Stevie there? As if that was possible.

"Would you like to join me for a bath?" Lady Billie's voice echoed against the cold castle walls,

She had her back turned, a diaphanous, ivory robe draped over her shoulders.

Stevie fidgeted in the doorway, trying and failing to tear her eyes away from that broad back. Billie swept her long curls over her shoulder.

"Uh, I'm not sure that's a good idea."

Lady Billie turned. Without her hat, the golden candlelight hitting her face painted her in a softer light. She was still wearing gloves, Stevie noted, her long elegant fingers trailed thoughtfully over the back of the vanity chair. Stroking the velvet softly... God, if Stevie thought it was possible...

But it wasn't. Obviously.

Billie rose, turning slowly. Stevie tried and failed again to keep her eyes to herself. High, firm breasts, and that waist and... OH.

Stevie's eyes flew to Billie's face.

Oh. Oh.

"No offense meant," Lady Billie cocked one hip, "But you smell, pretty girl."

Stevie blinked up at her, "You're trans."

"Yes," Billie's red lips curved up sensuously.

"Y-you know that I'm trans too."

Billie's smile didn't dim, "I know."

Stevie could only stare, breathing shallowly.

“Pretty girl,” Billy leaned down, her cold inhuman breath brushing Stevie’s cheeks, “The prettiest.”

She turned, and stepped slowly into a sunken bath, more the size of a small swimming pool. The robe pooled around her, laying across the water like frost on a pond. And then it turned a deep red, almost plummy. Stevie’s brain must not have been working because she followed as if hypnotized, walking right up to the edge.

“Join me,” Lady Billie beckoned, “I promise, I won’t bite. Tonight.”

Stevie kicked off her shoes and pants, shucking her shirt and nervously taking off her shirt. She wasn’t perfect. Scarred, inside and out, and-

“Pretty girl,” Lady Billy’s voice seemed to come from everywhere, from the ground under Stevie’s feet. She untied the robe and let it float off into the bloody water, “Let me make you feel good.”

This had to be a dream, Stevie thought as Lady Billy tugged her to sit at the edge of the pool, her feet dangling in the water. A dream, a lovely dream.

Billie's hands were cold and icy as she took Stevie's face, but Stevie's chest was bursting with enough heat for the both of them. Stevie melted as their lips met, almost sliding into the water. Her spine felt too weak to hold her up and she went liquid, hand clinging to Billie's shoulders.

Glove covered fingers ran along Stevie's body, satiny smooth... reminding Stevie of the claw tipped fingers underneath. She shivered as they traced over her sensitive, small breasts, the lattice of her ribs. Stevie would wonder later if Billie thought of killing her. Now, Stevie's hands were occupied with miles of cool flesh, as flawless as perfectly carved marble.

Billie broke their kiss with a flick of her tongue across Stevie's upper lip, "You like these underwear?"

"No, I-"

Billie dove down, her teeth rending the white cotton to shreads. It should have been terrifying, but god, if Stevie wasn't hard, wet and leaking against her stomach. Billie nudged Stevie's thighs apart, running a gloved hand up to her stomach.

"Lay back," Billie's voice was everywhere, inside Stevie, rattling her ribcage. She licked her lips, running a trembling hand through her hair, and did as she was told, leaning back into the cold stone floor while Billie spread Stevie's legs and angled her hips up.

"Good girl," Billie's red painted lips curved into a smile. "See how nice it can be? When you're my good girl?

She could barely breath in a shallow breath and gather how that made her feel before Billie's mouth was on her, licking the tip of Stevie's cock while gloved fingers probed lower, between her cheeks.

"Whoa, wait-"

"Just gonna," Billy kissed the tip of Stevie's cock, "Finger you a little, pretty girl."

Stevie groaned, arching up. Maybe there was an element of hallucination to it. After all, nightmares were real, maybe dreams could be too.

Billie slicked up a few of her fingers with her mouth, and resumed teasing, nibbling along Stevie's cock while Stevie slowly lost her mind.

Like it had a homing beacon, Billie's finger unerringly found Stevie's prostate and began to stroke it ruthlessly, wet satin dragging over her. Stevie let out a broken off moan, hands gripping uselessly at the stone floor.

"There it is," Billie licked up Stevie's cock, "That's the spot. Good girl."

Steve made a noise she had only ever heard in porn before. She had never done this with someone else, always alone, burning with mortification and feeling strange. The women she had been with in the past had never...

"I know," Billie pouted prettily, freckles standing out sharply on her pale nose, "Feels like you could just shatter, right?"

Stevie babbled something that might have been yes, a sound that morphed into a choked noise as Billie swallowed Stevie's cock down, her tongue rolling along the head.

Billie looked up at her, crystalline eyes filled with a look that wasn't like pity at all. Stevie groaned, hips jerking.

Billie came off with a pop and Stevie gasped.

"I... I..." Stevie thrashed, "Please... please, please..."

"That's it, you gonna squirt for me?" Billie's lipstick was smeared, no longer perfect.

Stevie babbled hopelessly. Her whole body was thrumming to the rhythm that Billie set with her prostate.

"Can I bite you?" Billie smiled, "Just a taste?"

"Yesyes just p-please..."

"Where should I?" Billie flicked the head of Stevie's cock with her tongue, "Here?"

Heat washed over Stevie. She was unfurling, blooming into something she knew not what.

"Here?" Billie tongued to Stevie's inner thigh, "Yes. I want to watch the prettiest girl cum on my fingers. This is the perfect spot."

Stevie's mouth was open, but she wasn't sure if she was talking, agreeing, or what she was doing. All she was sure of was that she was shattering, breaking into a million pieces. And of Billie, her fangs sinking deep while she watched with those hypnotic eyes. Vampire Barbie, cheeks flushed with blood.

Ribbons of pleasure wrapped around her, tying her in the grip of madness for a moment as her cock jerked, cum splattering across her own chest. It seemed to go on forever, not a single point of pleasure but a death by a thousand pinpricks. She screamed, hips convulsing. Billie muffled a moan into the bite, her other hand gripping Stevie's hip tight enough to bruise.

"You... what about you?" Stevie finally had the presence of mind to say, when her spine finally relaxed into the stone.

Billie just smiled. Stevie guessed she couldn't talk, not with her mouth full. She pulled back, licking the bite lingeringly.

"Came when you did, prettiest," She smiled, "Though you can do whatever you would like to me, I am entirely at your disposal."

There was no pity in her, only desire. She licked her lips, and dragged Stevie into the depths. Stevie curled limply around Billie, her legs tightening around Billie's hips, their spent cocks brushing and sending a shiver down Stevie's spine.

"Good girl. My good girl," Lady Billie whispered.

"You broke your promise," Stevie said dazedly.

Billy just licked at Stevie's lips, "Oops."

PSST @intothedysphoria for when you awaken from your slumber.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #billy x steve #steve harrington #femme harringrove #femme and t4t its everythign ok #asks #my ficlets #re8 harringrove au #it may be ooc i haven't played re8 so #trans harringrove #tw blood #tw vampire #tw dysphoria

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mostmouse · 10 months

Text

The One Blessed by Arceus (chapter 7)

Adaman helps you fill out the pokedex a bit more, this time focusing on wisps for spiritomb and notes on snorlax.

(Adaman x f!reader, suggestive, 5,500 words, posted on AO3)

Time moved slowly around Adaman, the wind rustling his hair and haori as he walked around the plains of the Obsidian Fieldlands. Dusk was fast approaching, however, the two of you moved without a care in the world. You had mentioned that you were looking for wisps, little violet specters in the night. They were visible during the daytime, but something like this was easier at night, you had explained.

And so there you were, walking hand in hand and looking through the sparse forested areas and around the shores of the lakes and rivers for anything flickering in the night. He had to admit, he was a bit skeptical. He hadn’t ever seen something the likes of which you were describing, not once. And considering he was actually born and raised here, he felt like he knew a little more than you did.

However, you were fully convinced and he wasn’t about to let you wander around at night alone. Glancing down at you, he blushed a bit. You were wearing a simple kimono that you had cut up, exposing your shoulders and arms. He subtly cleared his throat, looking away. You had bulked up since the day Professor Laventon had found you, and he realized his worry was misplaced once again.

You were more than capable of fending for yourself. Afterall, you had survived the first few weeks without him even knowing you, and that was before you had built up a team and physical strength. Then, throughout the time he had known you, you proved yourself capable time and time again. Shaking his head, he paused in your walk, stretching his arms up high and groaning. You paused as well, looking at him appreciatively and smiling at his light blush.

“Tired already, old man?” Adaman scoffed at your tone, grabbing your hand and resuming your leisurely pace. While in the past he would have figured this entire thing a complete waste of his time, he now found himself basking in every second he spent with you, no matter what you happened to be doing.

“Please, you couldn’t keep up with me if you tried.” He smirked, kissing the top of your head, “Also, I’m not old. Keep those judgments to yourself.” You grinned, elbowing him in the side and laughed as he made a big show of it.

“See! Old. A young sawsbuck wouldn’t be so mortally wounded at such a small attack.” You tugged him towards your side, prompting him to pull you close. Sighing, you nuzzled into his chest, kissing the bit of skin you could reach through his loose top.

Sighing at the contact, he rubbed your back softly. “What’s a sawsbuck?”

He felt you smile against him, and shuddered as you nipped him, blush back on his cheeks. “It’s a pokemon that’s sort of like a stantler. Except it has seasonal forms. It’s really pretty, it evolves from deerling which also have seasonal variants.” You smiled up at him, eyes shining in the moonlight and he felt his breath catch.

You continued, arms wrapped tight around him and swaying the two of you side to side, laughing as you teetered from one foot to the other together, “It was originally found in Unova, that’s another region where I’m from. But anyways, deerling have coats that reflect the seasons, and sawsbucks have these grand antlers,” You rubbed your hands in two big circles on his back, reflecting how big they were, “And they’re covered in foliage except winter. They’re called the harbingers of spring, ‘cause when winter is coming to an end, they’ll grow little flower buds on their antlers!”

Adaman’s warm brown eyes never left yours, watching your animated face and shining gaze. Your perfect lips shone as you licked them every few sentences. He imagined the pokemon you spoke of, although he was sure his mental rendition wasn’t exactly the way they looked. He wondered what it would be like if Lord Wyrdeer could tell them when the seasons would change. It would certainly help with agriculture.

Blinking rapidly, he realized he was staring at you, even after you were done explaining the foreign pokemon to him. He stopped rocking from foot to foot with you, instead squeezing you tightly and resting his chin atop on your head. Smiling softly, he kissed you there lightly. “That sounds amazing. I wish I could see all these different pokemon. How many are there where you’re from?”

You giggled, kissing his throat where you could reach before grinning, “Over a thousand.” You laughed as he balked, pulling away from you and you let him go. Taking a step back, he pressed a hand to his head, muttering to himself.

“A thousand? What does that even mean? A thousand different pokemon. That’s- wow.” You grabbed his free hand, letting yourself fall back before he tensed his grip, holding you at a slanted angle. Looking down at you, he laughed breathlessly. “A thousand pokemon! Amazing. What I wouldn’t do to meet all of them.”

Feeling him flex his arm, you let him lift you a bit before steadily letting you back down. You couldn’t help but lick your lips, giggling bashfully as he repeated the action. Adaman noticed your change in attitude, instead flexing and pulling you up just enough to kiss you, then lowering you once more.

You sighed into every kiss, watching him as he showed off. Giggling, you let him pull you up one more time before you adjusted your feet, pulling away from his hand and instead tossing your arms around his neck. He couldn’t help the surprised sound that fell from his lips, or the soft moan that followed it as you kissed him.

Wrapping his arms around you in return, he tentatively pressed his tongue against your lips. Listening as you sighed, he felt you open your mouth and he slipped his tongue in to meet yours. He had been growing bolder and bolder since your shared bath a few weeks ago. He didn’t shy away as much from affection, and initiated deeper kisses more often now.

You adored his explorative nature, never pressuring him into anything. Back when you first started seeing each other, he was flirty and touched you freely, even grinding against you at night on the rare occasions you shared a bed. But something had changed after those first few weeks.

It seemed as if he were getting more serious then, about the two of you. He no longer treated you as if the thing between you was playful and temporary, instead looking more towards the future. At least, you hoped it was that way. You didn’t want to assume how he felt, but you were sure he returned your feelings equally and as passionately.

You smiled against him, pressing close and moving so one hand was against his chest with the other in his hair. Tugging gently, you sighed as he moaned. His arms tightened around you as you pulled again, a bit harder. Breaking apart, he panted for air and pressed his forehead against yours. His gaze was intense, lips shining as he watched you.

Leaning forward, he nipped your bottom lip, using the tactics of what you had shown him when you took the initiative. You loved to admit he was a quick learner, and confident in his new abilities as well. You smiled, nuzzling his nose as you sighed contentedly. He hummed lowly, seductive gaze turning fond as kissed your nose, cheeks, then lips once more - although he was much more chaste this time.

“Shall we continue our search?” Your dreamy stare never wavered from looking up at him and he laughed softly. Letting his hand drop down a bit, he squeezed your ass, grinning as you yelped, trance broken. “Are you ignoring me?” His smug look betrayed the mockingly offended tone, and you slapped his chest softly.

“I couldn’t ignore you even if I wanted to. I guess I get lost looking at that cute mouth instead of listening to the words that come out of it.” You bit your lip, giggling softly as he blinked down at you. A quick whine left him as he blushed, standing straighter. Looking away, he pouted a bit, stepping back slightly. “Aw, come back! My handsome man~ I just can’t help but admire you!”

He laughed bashfully, covering his face with one hand as he let you grab the other. “When you say it with that look on your face, I…” He trailed off, swallowing thickly and tugging you along with him as he started walking off in a random direction. “L-Let’s find that thing you’re looking for.”

You hummed happily, catching up and falling in step with him, letting go of what he might’ve almost said. He’d say what he needed to when he was able, afterall, it’s not like you were going anywhere. The settlement of Hisui wasn’t really all that big, he couldn’t hide from you, not really.

As the night wore on, you admired all the pokemon you came across, letting them frolic and exist in their own habitat. You wrote down some notes about unique behaviors you thought Professor Laventon might be interested in, Adaman peeking over your shoulder and reading everything as you wrote it.

Every time you yawned, Adaman quickly copied you, and vice versa. Soon, the moon was high in the sky and the both of you felt worn down. Whining, you stomped your foot a little. “No wisps! That’s so frustrating. This area isn’t honestly that big, how is it so hard to find them?”

Adaman smiled softly, quirking a brow and speaking quietly, “You’re sure they’re here? I’ve been in this area countless times, at all hours of the day, and I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“Well, that little girl said they were something not everyone is able to see… I’m sure once we find one, you’ll start seeing them, too! I’ve found some already, so I know they exist. They’re just hard to find…” Adaman smiled at your exhausted tone, and your pouting.

“Okay, how about we look for just a moment longer, then we’ll call it a night. Let’s make our way to Heights Camp and if we see anything we’ll chase it, otherwise, we can get some rest.”

Sighing defeatedly at his reasonable solution, you nodded. Pulling you close to his side, he kissed your pouting lips before resuming walking, fingers intertwined with yours. The both of you looked around, but less attentive than before as you both felt the fatigue of the day and half the night catch up to you.

As you cleared the Deertrack Path area and started mounting Deertrack Heights, you squeezed Adaman’s hand, gasping. “L-Look! There’s one!” Brightening instantly, you tugged quickly on his arm and trying to run off. Catching him by surprise, Adaman tried to hold onto you and keep you by his side, but you easily slipped from his grip.

“Hey! Be careful, these cliffs are steep!” Running after you, he felt a new burst of energy within him, catching up after only a few moments thanks to his longer legs. Running beside you, he scanned his field of vision, trying to find something glowing and purple, but unable to. “Where is it? I don’t see anything.”

You panted next to him, eyes focused and grinning. “There!” However, you didn’t bother pointing your hand as you ran as fast as you could, getting a bit of distance between the two of you. “Don’t you see- ahh!” Just as you opened your mouth, you felt the rocks below you give out and crumble beneath your feet. Shouting in surprise, you felt Adaman’s strong arms surge forward and wrap around you, tucked beneath your arms and around your chest.

“Hey!” Bracing his legs, he dragged you up and close to him, backing up quickly from the edge of the narrow pass. Back against the rocky wall behind him, he panted, adrenaline pumping through him at the sudden panic and your scream.

Swallowing thickly, you let your beating heart calm down fully before speaking again, feeling Adaman’s chest slowly stop heaving behind you. Licking your lips, your tone was breathless, “Thanks… I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Adaman heaved a heavy sigh behind you, painfully tight grip loosening around you and you felt yourself able to breathe fully once more. “Just- be more careful, okay? You scared me.” You smiled apologetically, turning his grip and kissing the underside of his jaw.

“I will be, I’m sorry.” Catching his breath fully, he kissed you softly, breaking away and feeling you continue to whisper against his mouth. “Let’s take it easy. I’ll show you where it is. Don’t let go of me, please?”

Adaman’s hand caught yours once more, fingers entwined with your own and squeezed almost painfully tight. He smiled tiredly, “I don’t plan on it, ever.” You giggled, turning your face away and holding a hand over your cheek, bashful at his bold claim.

“Okay, it’s over in this direction.” You pointed towards an alcove in the cliff wall, a violet glow on the rocks you were able to see. Matching Adaman’s slower than normal pace, you finally approached the crack in the cliffside. Grabbing the spiritomb’s base from your bag that the little girl had given you, you placed it softly in Adaman’s free hand.

Humming curiously, he rolled it over in his rough palm, feeling the weight of it. “I think there’s a massive keystone that looks just like this by Lake Valor back at home, in the Shrouded Ruins.” You perked up, excitedly wide eyes looking up at him.

Smiling as he peered down at you, he stiffened as he suddenly saw something in the corner of his vision. Whipping his head around, he pulled you behind his back as a bright purple orb revealed itself to him suddenly. “Ah-” He was frozen in place, mouth open as he stared at the small wisp.

You laughed next to him, peering around his broad body. “See! Now you can see them, too!” Your voice was delighted, moving from behind him to stand next to him once more. “Isn’t it pretty? I have an idea for what pokemon it’s going to become once I collect all of these spirit pieces.”

“Spirit pieces? Are they will of the wisps?” His concerned voice had you humming as you looked at him curiously. Upon you tilting your head at him, his brows knit up and grimaced. “You know, the trail that leads you on until you’re lost forever?”

You opened and closed your mouth repeatedly. “I- What? No, they’re- it’s going to become a pokemon called spiritomb.” You tapped the rock in his hand, “It’s a mischievous pokemon who’s been cursed to live in a cracked keystone, like the one back in the Crimson Mirelands. We should check it out!”

Adaman stared incredulously at the stone in his hand, then looked up at you, expression twisting further. “Do you have no self preservation? Why would you put it back together, if it’s cursed to live inside a cracked stone? You’re collected the pieces of souls it needs to exist? Doesn’t that sound, oh I don’t know, dangerous and foreboding?”

Humming again, you tilted your head in thought before smiling without a care, “Oh well. Who am I to decide that it shouldn’t have a chance to live once more? Besides, Arceus wants me to seek out all pokemon.” You tapped the keystone, “So, I have to let Professor Laventon investigate this one, too!”

Holding Adaman’s wrist, you tugged his arm up, the violet wisp circling the stone before disappearing inside of it. Groaning in defeat, he handed the rock back to you. Plucking it cheerfully from his palm, you slipped it into your bag, straightening up and looking around you. “Here, let me get my map.”

Adaman grabbed your hand, huffing, still worried about your sanity. “We don’t need it. I know where to go.” Giggling as he pulled you towards him, he led the two of you back around the cliff and up the path to the camp.

Swinging your arms together, you walked in comfortable silence. The tiredness of the day catching up with the both of you. Once you made it up to the camp, you peered around, not a soul in sight. “Guess nobody’s here tonight?”

Adaman sighed, relieved. “Perfect, I didn’t really want to deal with anyone right now.” Heaving a heavy sigh, he pulled the two of you to two side by side tents. Letting go of your hand, he pulled the stakes up on one of them and flipped the tarp around so the openings faced each other.

You pouted playfully, “Don’t wanna share?” Turning and giving you a side eye, he pointed to the small space, quirking his brow. “Hey, we could make it fit! I could just… sleep on top of you?”

Instead of a bashful reaction, Adaman smirked, “Or I could sleep on top of you?” However, as you licked your lips and got closer to him, resting your hand on his chest, his facade broke and a blush covered his cheeks.

“I wouldn’t mind that at all. You could be my big weighted blanket.” You rubbed his chest, palms sinking lower so that your hands rested on his hips. “Sound good to you?” Stuttering over his response, he lifted your hands off him, laughing nervously as he took a step back.

“How about you take my haori?” Smiling softly, you reached out, taking it from his hands once he dropped it from his shoulders.

“This is just as good, I promise.” You leaned up, kissing him softly. Closing the distance between the two of you, he came closer once more and cupped your face in his hands.

Swallowing nervously, he blushed before looking away for a moment. Standing there with his haori in your hands, you just hummed contently, waiting for him to be ready to say whatever he was going to say. His shoulders dropped slightly, turning to face you and kissing your forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.” Giving you a soft kiss, he turned back, crawled into the tent, and closed the fabric over the opening.

You giggled softly, crawling into the tent beside him and snuggled beneath his still warm haori. Leaving the side open, you watched the stars shine in the sky as you traced the golden threads stitching the torn fabric back together. Back where you were from, you couldn’t ever see the stars like this, not even in more remote areas. You felt as if you could see the entire galaxy above you.

Tucking your head against the fabric of the makeshift cot, you thought about meeting Arceus again once you completed the pokedex. What would it say to you? Would it send you back home, to your own time? The thought had your belly in knots. You didn’t know what you wanted anymore.

Back when you had first fallen from the sky, confused with no memory, all you wanted was to go back home - wherever that was. Then, as you slowly regained your memory, you felt so homesick most days you couldn’t bring yourself to get up out of your bed back in Jubilife Village. You thought about your friends and family, your pokemon that you had raised from eggs or had tirelessly battled to catch, not to mention all the amenities you sorely missed - indoor plumbing, your rotom phone, modern music, not to mention being able to travel between all the different regions.

But that was before you had made real connections with everyone in your life here, before you had put down your roots. The trials before, during, and after the Red Sky had worn you down to the bone, but everyone around you had helped build you back up. You no longer knew what you wanted. You almost didn’t want to complete the pokedex, and avoid Arceus forever.

That wasn’t who you were, though. You wouldn’t give up on Professor Laventon just because you were scared. Huffing in determination and renewed conviction, you peered up at the stars again. You could do this, you would do this. And whatever happened after would happen. It’s not like you could command the future, all you could do was meet it head on.

Whenever that moment came, your sleepy mind conjured a smiling Adaman in your imagination. You hoped that Adaman would not only be beside you, but support your decisions entirely. As well as Professor Laventon, Rei, and Irida. Hell, you even hoped Cyllene would approve of your choice when the time came. With those comforting thoughts, you felt your mind drift off and sleep overtake you.

It wasn’t long until the first morning light was waking you up, feeling the bright sunshine on your face. Sighing heavily, you rolled to your side, pulling Adaman’s hoari up to cover your head, pouting as your feet were exposed instead. You wondered if Adaman was awake yet, but didn’t yet have the motivation to get up and check for yourself.

You laid there for a bit longer, listening to pokemon chirp in the distance and the wind blow. Soon joining the sounds was the crunch of dirt and someone crouching down. A large warm hand rested on your shoulder as a smooth voice whispered, “Hey, you awake? C’mon, the day’s already started, you’re gonna sleep the whole morning away.”

You whined childishly, tucking his haori tighter around you. “Adaman~ am I not the one who almost single handedly saved Hisui? I quelled the lords, banished the Red Sky, calmed Giritina, and mighty Dialga, and-”

Your boyfriend laughed, voice light in the morning air. You couldn’t help but smile, poking your head out and squinting up at him. “Hey! I did all that! And you’re gonna make me wake up early? This isn’t the treatment the Hero of Hisui should get!”

Adaman sighed fondly, crooked smile on his face as he was crouched next to your tent. You tried to not eye him up first thing in the morning, restraining yourself from admiring his exposed cleavage, strong arms, or his thick thighs you knew were hiding beneath his baggy pants. You squeaked in surprise as you realized you were doing just that, your leering gaze snapping back up to his warm brown eyes.

All he did was smirk down at you, necklace and earring glinting in the sunshine. “Wow, immediately? You sure do have a one track mind.” You gasped, flinging yourself up as you stuttered in response, cheeks hot. He laughed over you, hand grabbing his haori and tossing it on his shoulders, muscled arms disappearing from view, “Well, better keep you an honest woman.”

You pouted on the cot, whining as he turned and walked away from you, laughing loudly. When he didn’t hear you get up, he turned slightly. You pouted a moment more before hauling yourself up with a groan, stretching tall. “Okay! I’m coming!” Sighing heavily, you trotted to stand next to him, peering up at his handsome face. “Did you have any plans for us today?”

Humming in thought, Adaman grabbed your hand and set off. “Not particularly. Any outbreaks reported on your Arc phone? We could do that.” You couldn’t help but smile. Grabbing it and your pokedex notebook from your bag, you peered at the screen.

“Looks like I still need some notes on snorlax. Professor Laventon wants me to catch a couple more so he can study any variations between them. I also need some munchlax as well.” Pouting, you clicked around the map and flipped to your pages of pokemon. “Munchlax are so hard to find… I haven’t seen any wild ones, only Mai’s.”

Adaman smiled, watching as you focused and flipped through your pokedex. The notebook, which had once been brand new, had been rebound repeatedly as you had added more and more pages of notes. There were even loose pages tucked in and folded up, colored tabs sticking out across it.

He moved to take your Arc phone as you struggled to juggle both of them. Thanking him quickly, you flipped through other pages of pokemon you could study in the Obsidian Fieldlands. “I think munchlax and snorlax are the only ones really in this area. I know there’s an alpha snorlax… here.”

You pointed to the map and Adaman nodded. Looking up, he gathered his bearings and slipped your phone into his pocket. “I know the way. Let’s go.” He offered you his hand, and you couldn’t help the soft smile on your face and how your cheeks warmed.

Putting the pokedex back into your satchel, you took his hand as he led the way. You had memorized a lot of the land after being in Hisui for so long, but Adaman always led much more confidently than you could. But then again, he had been born and raised in this region, so you weren’t that surprised. You also appreciated how he could lead you while you took your time looking in all directions for pokemon and wisps.

Once you approached the river near where the alpha snorlax was, you tugged out a pokeball. Tossing it towards the water, your gyarados appeared and swam back towards you. Leaning her head down, she hissed as you pet her, eyes closing. Laughing, you leaned as high as you could and scratched along her scales, getting behind her fins where you knew she couldn’t reach with her tail.

Adaman admired your pokemon. He hadn’t ever known anyone to choose a gyarados as their companion. Mostly because it heavily resembled ancient texts of a wild pokemon who could raze villages easily. But you had raised a magikarp with so much love and kindness that he couldn’t ever imagine your gyarados being aggressive towards people - however, she loved to battle and was still quite ferocious.

Stepping up close to you, he pet her as well. One hand resting on her head, the other disappearing into your bag to grab a berry, holding it out to her. With a delighted hiss, she gently plucked it from his palm and swallowed it. Wiggling in happiness, she finally turned away and let the both of you climb atop her back.

Sitting high by her crown, you motioned where you wished for her to go. Adaman enjoyed the view from behind as you perched slightly, thighs and hips flexing and helping for adjustments in her direction as you spoke to her.

Finally arriving closer to the alpha snorlax, the two of you disembarked your gyarados and you returned her to her ball. Clenching your fist in determination, you faced the direction snorlax was in, “Let’s do this.” Stepping away, you felt Adaman grab your arm, moving his hands to sit on your shoulders and turning you the opposite way. Laughing sheepishly, you repeated your actions, voice full of laughter, “Okay, now let’s do this!”

Adaman laughed with you, the both of you quieting down as you crested the small hill just behind the alpha pokemon. “I should toss it some berries, see if that changes its demeanor…” You pondered quietly, Adaman watching you closely.

You tugged your pokedex back out, sitting it on your lap as you crouched on the balls of your feet. Winding back, you tossed a berry and watched as the snorlax lumbered over to it. It struggled to bend down to reach it with its claws, but once it was close enough, it gently held it between each sharp nail before popping it into its mouth.

You hummed thoughtfully, taking notes. Adaman watched the alpha carefully, the phantom pain in his arm reminding him of the first time he had tried to go toe to toe with such a powerful pokemon. You, however, didn’t have that innate fear - something that had made you impossibly fascinating to him in the beginning.

However, he now saw it as a clear disregard for your own safety. You were blessed to have such a dedicated team of pokemon that you could trust and who loved you, he knew they would protect you from harm. But he couldn’t help the bitter seed inside him that kept him from being able to act as you did with wild pokemon.

You tossed more berries, getting more detailed notes before you snapped the book closed. Tucking it back into your satchel, your wild and excited eyes met his grounded gaze. “Show time.” You grinned, grabbing a ball and leaping from where the two of you hid.

Adaman gave you space, choosing to stay back and watch as you battled with your pokemon. Your movements were fluid, moving about the battlefield as you commanded your pokemon with confidence and authority. Not once did you falter or hesitate, every move you made was with purpose. Your pokemon followed every instruction, never taking its eyes off the massive snorlax.

It went by almost too quickly for him to really feel like he had learned anything from the battle, but soon enough you were throwing a pokeball as you rounded behind the snorlax, throwing it with precision. He couldn’t believe how amazing you were. You had told him many times of how you battled competitively where you were from, and every time the two of you battled, he was reminded of the talent you had honed over the years.

He admired your strength, of your inherent trust in pokemon, and your resolve. He felt his heart flutter as you snatched the ball up off the ground, shouting in victory with your pokemon. You fawned over your partner, praising it and giving it a few berries. Returning it to its ball, you turned towards Adaman.

“How was that?” You walked up to him, feeling the adrenaline leaving your system. “Did I do good?” You flexed playfully, tossing snorlax’s ball up before catching it once more.

Adaman laughed, reaching out and patting the top of your head before curving around to hold your cheek and tilt your head up. The sunshine gleamed in his eyes, making them shine brightly before you. You felt your breath catch, cheeks warming with a lovestruck blush. He leaned down and kissed you softly.

You reached up and held his hand over your cheek, kissing him back eagerly. Feeling him begin to pull away, you tossed your arms around his neck, whining against his lips. You could feel him smile against you, his arms falling down to wrap around your waist. As you pressed your tongue against him, he sighed before opening his mouth.

Once hand slid up to caress his hair, twirling the strands between your fingers. He moaned softly, arms tightening around you and pressing against your lower back to drag you closer to his heated body. Breaking away for air momentarily, you both panted across the other’s face.

Giggling softly, you nipped his lip before he caught yours in another kiss. His cheeks were hot and he tried to ignore the excitement welling within him. He moaned aloud as you pressed your chest tight to his, his tongue slipping into your mouth this time. He couldn’t help himself as he dipped one hand lower, groping your ass.

You jolted in his hold, moaning around his tongue as he filled your mouth. He could feel you rock your hips against him, and as he felt himself get hard he pulled away and broke the kiss. Panting heavily, you watched as he closed his eyes.

Humming, you backed up a tiny bit, just so your lower halves weren’t so snug together, resting your head on his chest and listening to his racing heart. He scattered kisses atop your head and held himself back from apologizing. Once he caught his breath, he pulled away entirely, kissing your forehead.

“Want to fly back to my place and make something to eat? We haven’t had a proper meal since yesterday morning.” Your smile was innocent, hands falling to hold his as you swung them slightly. He was grateful for you being so patient with him, letting him explore the intimacy of your relationship within his own comfort zone.

He grinned, “I’d love that.” Watching you with fond eyes as you released your gyarados, he thought about the three words he wished he could tell you already. However, even with how eager he felt, somehow it still wasn’t the right time. Walking behind you, he helped you onto your pokemon, following you up after.

Reaching around, he pet the dragon, nails scratching her scales and feeling how she wiggled and hissed in delight. He laughed softly, leaning back and wrapping his arms around you and resting his head on your shoulder. With a soft laugh, you called out to your pokemon, “Let’s go home.”

With a roar, she climbed into the clear blue skies. Adaman stared down at the ground as it became further and further away, the amazement having faded into something more comforting. He couldn’t believe before how easy it was to travel by flying, after all, his only experience had been with Sabi and Lord Briviary.

Now, it was a common occurrence. You practically flew everywhere in Hisui, and more often than not, he was accompanying you. Relaxing fully against you, he closed his eyes and let the wind make a mess of his hair. Slowly, the air around you turned salty, and he kissed the top of your head, knowing there wasn’t anywhere else he’d rather be than with you.

#adaman x reader #adaman x you #adaman pokemon #pokemon adaman #pokemon legends arceus #pla

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