#draven x reader

[imagine-darksiders]

Cold Hands, Warm Heart.

Chapter 23 - Evading Sunrise.

Summary: Who better to know what a human needs than one who used to be human themselves?

[I'm still alive! Woo! Just overwrought! I'm playing in a sold-out show from Jan 16th and rehearsals have been 1900 to 2300 every night, bar the weekend, so my writing time is greatly diminished. I've also recently come into the family business, which isn't what I thought I'd be doing with my life, but hey-ho, I haven't got any other option, so I'm also bogged down with learning that whole setup. These little moments where I can write and read all your kind, encouraging comments are becoming more and more precious to me. xxx]

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There is a kindness that the Universe could easily grant you, were it so inclined. Just a small thing, effortless even, hardly a difficult feat for the Powers that be, if They had so much as a shred of empathy.

The Universe has taken much from you, and were it a little kinder, it would take one last thing.

… It would take your ability to dream.

Death knows all too well that for as long as humans have been unwitting players on the cosmic chess board, they’ve been left to stand utterly alone, un-helped and unacknowledged by an indifferent Creator.

Why should you be the exception?

Why should you be granted a tiny mercy by the very Being who gave you a mind to dream with in the first place?

It just seems an unnecessary cruelty, the Horseman supposes, that your own biology should stand in the way of your respite.

It’s been several, long hours since you rolled over and eloped into the un-waking world, and Death has only moved as far as the door, leaning his weight back against the bone-dry wood with an air of resignation that his journey is to be paused until sunrise, at the very earliest. No matter… There’s little sense facing the Chancellor’s dreaded ‘Champion’ in the dark, after all.

You might have smirked and called him paranoid about the rigid stance he’s taken in front of the room’s only entrance, but the soft yet not-so-silent footfalls that keep approaching the door reaffirm his decision.

He doesn’t know if it’s the Blademaster sniffing about or some other undead who has come to gawk at the living, breathing human in their midst, but there’s something undoubtedly amusing about feeling wood push against his spine for a few seconds before the presence on the other side meets the resistance of a Horseman’s immoveable body weight.

What follows is the distinct sound of those same footsteps hurrying off down the corridor, making every attempt to be stealthy, but failing miserably.

It would be less amusing if any of their attempts were to wake you up. In fact, the only reason Death hasn’t ripped the door open and threatened to skewer the nosy stranger is currently sound asleep just a few feet away from whatever ruckus that would cause.

Or you were sound asleep. At least until a few minutes ago.

Death’s forefingers tap aimlessly against his bicep as he frowns down at your face. You’ve scrunched your features up into a tight grimace, nose wrinkling and the corners of your mouth twisted south towards your chin.

You’re still asleep. Just not soundly.

The pitiable whimpers you’ve been uttering for a while now indicate a troubled mind, though the Horseman can’t say he’s surprised. It’s disappointing, to be sure. He’d have thought you’d be far too exhausted to be plagued by dreams tonight, yet evidently, you’re not that fortunate. Which is a crying shame, because while Death doesn’t believe in luck per-se, he thinks that if such a thing were to exist, you’re more than overdue.

“Hmm, mnn,” you murmur through closed lips, tossing your head to the right.

Above you on the headboard, Dust retrieves his beak from under an ebony wing and cocks a gaze at you, crooning out a soft, inquiring noise from his throat.

“Shhh,” Death breathes, earning a sleepy glare from the crow, though he does at least fall silent, contenting himself to simply watch as you throw a hand out to one side and clench your fist around an invisible force.

“….Mmn, eye…,” you mutter through slightly parted lips.

‘Eye?’ Death’s brow knots under his mask, yet he isn’t left wondering for long.

“… Eideard?” you suddenly croak, “… C’m’back!”

Ah… So that’s where your head is at.

Lowering his eyes to the ratty blanket, Death releases a sigh that’s been building in his chest for a few minutes now.

Your legs have been steadily working to kick the covers off the bed, never settling, as if you’re trying to run from something.

The clack of a beak draws the Horseman’s gaze once again to Dust, who now has a rather expectant look aimed his way.

Death can’t help but be reminded of that night in Tri Stone, when he’d remained stolidly outside on the bench whilst you stifled your sobs in the Makers’ Forge.

He recalls that Dust had been rather scathing about his inaction. The Horseman hadn’t cared for the bird’s judgement then, and he’s even less appreciative now.

What is he supposed to do? Wake you? At least if you’re dreaming, you’re getting some rest.

Sleep, he’s learned, is something that’s essential to a human’s sustained survival.

Not for the first time, he considers the benefits of having an empty chest, hardened and calcified through centuries of existing in an indifferent universe.

It means he has nothing to steel when you suddenly fling yourself over onto your side with your mouth hanging open, releasing a short, hitching sob that catches in your throat, and an arm that stretches out towards something unseen by the Horseman, your fingers spreading rigidly until they quake with the strain.

… The gentling of Death’s expression goes unnoticed, even by him.

He’s nearly shocked when his boot slides forwards ever so slightly, scraping across the floorboards as if to carry him away from the door and towards you.

Pausing, he cocks a brow down at his own leg, half expecting it to explain itself.

What he doesn’t expect – but perhaps should have – is the loud and jarring gasp that suddenly floods into the little human on the bed with the frantic desperation of one who’s been underwater for far too long, and you’ve only just managed to reach the surface to take a breath before your lungs collapse.

Death’s eyes flick towards you just in time to witness your silhouette lurching up off the mattress, a garbled shout tumbling from your lips as you clutch feverishly at your chest.

“Karn!?” you blurt out, whipping your head back and forth to search through the darkness of Draven’s quarters for a maker who isn’t there.

It would be easy for Death to remain still and silent, to wait until whatever grasp your nightmare still has on you to finally slip loose on its own… He needn’t step in.

It would be easy…

“…Hhh…” Grousing silently to himself, the Horseman pushes away from the door and takes a decisive step towards you before he can begin to overthink his actions.

“Y/n,” he mutters, not loud enough to be startling, but just loud enough to catch your attention.

Even still, you flinch, whirling your torso in his direction and letting your hazy eyes land on the pale, ghostly mask looming above you in the dark.

For several seconds, you merely stare up at Death, the hand on your chest crumpling your shirt as you gather the flimsy fabric into a tight fist.

Death doesn’t elect to break the silence again. After another moment or two of watching you gulp down another lungful of stale air, his patience pays off, and you swallow thickly, croaking, “Death?”

The Horseman’s chin dips down. “Yes.”

“Is… Karn here?” Your voice sounds so fragile, poisoned by a grain of hope.

Going very still, Death allows a beat to pass, giving himself time to think of an answer.

Perhaps… you think you’re still in a dream.

Quietly, he offers a concise response, one that hopefully doesn’t cause you any more distress whilst bringing you further out of the idea that this isn’t real. “Karn…” he begins, “…remained in the Forge Lands.”

He watches you physically deflate. Not from relief though. Relief doesn’t douse the sleepy kindling of hope that had momentarily lit the contours of your face.

Solemn, a little more awake, you slowly ask, “Is… Eideard…. Is he…?”

“… Gone,” is Death’s only reply.

A breath shudders out of you as you let your gaze drift down to your fingers, twining over themselves in twists and knots. “Oh…” you breathe, “I… thought I…” But your sentence trails off before you can finish it.

So, Death says it for you. “You thought you saw him,” he ventures, “In a dream.”

And with that, whatever strings have been holding you taut are promptly cut, sending you flopping back onto Draven’s mattress with a sorrowful ‘whump,’ still very much awake and positively quaking hard enough to cause the wooden bed frame to shudder in tandem.

That’s the thing about dreams, Death supposes, after a point, they’re the perfect nesting ground for ghosts.

His brother, Strife, would confide in him, many eons ago, that he could still see the faces of their fallen brethren behind his eyelids whenever he tried to rest. Death had only told him that it would pass, if given the time to. He hadn’t the gall to tell Strife that he too could see those same, hateful eyes and blood-filled mouths just as clearly.  

Eideard isn’t the only person you’ve lost. He’s said it before, but it bears repeating; you’ve also lost your family, your friends and every other human on Earth.

Your dreams, much like Death’s, are full of ghosts.

Drawing your hands up towards your face, you press the heel of each palm to your eyelids and grind down hard until a kaleidoscope of colour sparks to life across your vision, not unlike fireworks blooming across a cold, November sky.

Shakily, you blow out a dry, unsteady whoosh of air and groan, “Fuck…”

Death purses his lips, privately concurring with your brief assessment of the situation.

Then, in a motion that’s steeped in tiredness, you drag your focus back over to the Horseman, rolling your head to the side and adding, “You’re still here…”

“Yes, I’m still here,” he utters, quiet as a breath, only to balk at the dulcet quality in his tone. Clearing his throat to rid it of the uninvited tenderness, he promptly tacks on, “I told you; someone has to keep an eye on Dust.”

Damp-cheeked, you crane your neck back to send an upside-down glance at the crow roosting on the headboard above you.

A single, glossy eyeball stares back.

You’re fairly confident that Dust hasn’t done a damn thing to warrant any of Death’s baseless assumptions.

With your gaze still locked on the bird, you sigh, “You two can go, if you want to…”

At that, the Horseman knows he’s going to refuse before he even gives you a verbal response.

This isn’t the first time you’ve offered him an ‘out,’ a convenient excuse for him to duck from the room and escape the burden of bearing witness to your downward spiral.

You’re asking, in as quiet a hint as you can manage, for the privacy to cry without an audience.

… If it weren’t for the mysterious footsteps padding about outside…

“It would be in your best interest for me to stay,” he offers, earning a weary sigh from your side of the room, as if you’ve by now figured it would never be that easy to get rid of him.

Already, his keen eyes have picked out the slightest gleam of tears gathering behind your lashes. The next breath you try to draw in sticks to the back of your throat, yet before your face can crumple completely, you roll yourself over onto your opposite side, facing the wall – deliberately angling your body away from the Horseman, who watches on in silence as you hike your shoulders up towards your ears.

Drawing his brows together underneath the mask, Death glides silently closer to your bed and peers down at the human-shaped lump quivering under the covers.

 All is quiet for a time, until at last…

“… I’m sorry.” Your words seep out of you in a thick, watery whisper. “You didn’t sign up for this.”

‘You didn’t sign up for me,’ goes unspoken, but somehow the idea still hangs between you both like cold, falling snow.

It seems an odd thing to say, Death muses, considering that in a sense, he did sign up for this. Hell, he all but stamped his signature on that contract when he carried you through the portal to the Crowfather’s realm.

“Well… Neither did you…” he returns truthfully as he turns around and sinks onto the mattress at the foot of the bed, draping each forearm over a knee. The old wood doesn’t even creak as he settles down, nor does the straw bend beneath his illogical weight, much like the desert sand hadn’t swallowed him up to his calves as it had yours.

He hears the blanket rustle behind him as you twist your neck around to spare him a glance over your shoulder. If you’re at all shocked to find him suddenly sitting so close to you, you’re either too tired or too polite to say a word about it.

So, you turn back to the wall without comment, and although you attempt to bring a hand up to press a sweat-slicked palm across your mouth, such a meagre covering of skin isn’t enough to contain the grief that starts to pour out of you.

But just as you’d offered Death the unquestioned freedom to seek vicinity to you, the Horseman doesn’t try to interrupt or diminish this sombre moment with talk or awkward attempts at comfort.

It stirs a memory in him, of a much younger Nephilim, trudging through a silent, windswept battlefield alongside the only other three who had escaped the Battle for Eden. Not a word was said between them as they left the dead behind, but Death had offered them proximity as well. They said nothing of it, they hadn’t even accused him of hovering. There was an unspoken understanding, in that instant, one that passed silently between all four of them; Death would be there if they needed him.

With a slow blink, the memory fades, and he’s left frowning gently at the dull, rotten wood of the wall adjacent to your bed.

You’re an intelligent human… He wonders if you’ll be able to infer what he’s doing by sitting at the edge of your bed. Death may be many things, but he is not cheerful by nature, and cannot thusly cause cheer in others. He can only sit. And wait. Listening, watching, offering freedom from interference, both from himself and others who would seek to disturb you now when you need to grieve.

Dust, predictably, affords your need for privacy about as much consideration as could be expected from a bird. That is, none whatsoever.

A sleepy caw is all the warning both you and Death receive before the crow hops down off the headboard and lands on your pillow with a soft rustle of feathers.

Of course, you flinch, but Dust – undeterred – simply invites himself into the space between you and the wall, strutting surefootedly over the rumpled blankets until he reaches your chest.

Exasperated, Death opens his mouth and is about to openly scold the crow when Dust turns himself about until the tip of his sharp, grey beak is pointed down at your sombre face.

If you’re at all worried about having it so close to your eyeballs, you don’t show it, though Death knows the corvid well enough to recognise that Dust would never hurt his new human friend who coddles and praises him like it’s going out of fashion.

Birds…

“H-hey,” you warble miserably, swiping at your eyes with the back of a wrist and trying to pluck up the willpower to give a tear-blurred Dust your most convincing smile, “Hey, boy. Sorry, did I wake you up?”

In response, the crow cocks his head at you, and follows up with a gentle croon that raises the small, downy feathers on his throat. Then, without bothering to give any sort of warning as to his intentions, Dust gives his beak a single clack and stretches out his neck, gathering up a few strands of hair around your forehead and dragging them through his beak as if to smooth them into place.

Death almost slaps a palm to his mask.

You can’t help yourself. A wet giggle blurts out of you, momentarily disrupting Dust’s ministrations. He croaks down at you flatly before returning to his task of taking your hair and grooming it with a gentle beak.

“Dust!” you blubber out another laugh, reaching up to try and dissuade the crow by pushing your hand into his feathered breast. For your trouble, he pulls away and administers a soft nip to your knuckle, barely strong enough for you to feel it.

Offering him a watery smile, you prop yourself up onto an elbow, and in one, smooth motion, you raise your free arm and scoop the bird against your chest, burying your nose into the ebony plumage right between his wings. He’s large, far larger than any crow you’ve ever seen on Earth, so it’s more akin to hugging a small dog than any kind of corvid….

Wow… You miss dogs…

As if he can sense your sudden spike of anguish for a species who was likely wiped out alongside your own, the crow nuzzles his head under your chin, tailfeathers flicking back and forth several times as he contents himself with his new position.

Death’s brows shoot up his forehead at the display, wondering how he could have missed the moment you and his crow forged this bond without him even noticing. Was it during the brief few hours when Absalom pulled him into the Tree of Life?

Or perhaps it was always there, and he just hasn’t been paying attention.

“Of all the crows I could have been saddled with,” he gripes under his breath, aiming a half-hearted scowl at the little he can see of Dust’s beak poking out over your shoulder, “It would be the one without a single ounce of pride.”

“Oh, leave him alone,” you sniff, your voice muffled by sleek, black feathers, “He’s trying to cheer me up.”

The Horseman grumbles something to himself, then raises his voice to huff, “He has to be good for something, I suppose.”

When you don’t reply beyond giving a click of your tongue, Death hesitates, his eyes roaming in every direction except for your face as he clears his throat and asks, “Is it… ah, working?”

There’s a speculative pause, interspersed with the odd sniffle as you take a moment to calm yourself down and recover from the embarrassment of once again crying in front of the sepulchral Death.

At last, you take in a deep, weary breath and pull your nose from Dust’s back, gazing warmly down at the crow. “Yeah,” you decide with a small nod as he pulls his beak from under your chin and peers back at you, “Yeah, it’s working.”

If only a little, but sometimes a little is just enough.

Dust’s head swings around to peer at Death over your shoulder, smugger than a bird has any business being.

The heartache of waking up to a world without Eideard in it is just as fresh as the heartache you feel when you open your eyes and remember your world is gone. That sort of grief, unquantifiable, is hard to shift by the efforts of one, friendly crow, no matter how noble his intentions.

But for Dust’s sake, you try to shoulder the sorrow a touch more easily, even going so far as to sit up properly, still holding the bird to your chest and giving him a gentle squeeze. It’s a word of thanks, silent but poignant. Slowly, you place the crow down on the mattress beside you.

This time it’s your turn to clear your throat. Scrubbing tiredly at your eyes, you untuck your legs from the scratchy blanket and roll them over the side of the bed, pulling yourself forwards until you’re sitting beside Death, hands clasped daintily in your lap.

Amber eyes flick sideways and find in the gloom that your cheeks are still damp and blotchy from shedding so many tears.

Behind you, Dust flutters back up onto the headboard, head held high and proud, pleased with himself for a job well-done, and feeling he’s absolutely deserved another nap.

You breathe a sigh, holding it in your lungs and then blowing it all out again, glad to hear that it’s devoid of further tremors. “So… I don’t suppose we can pretend you didn’t hear any of that?”

Death half turns his torso towards you and replies, “Any of what?”

Without thought, you smile appreciatively and lean across the bed, giving the Horseman’s thigh a companionable pat. “Good man.”

It seems as soon as you touch him, you’re pulling away again, the moment passing too quickly for you to feel the way his leg jumps underneath your palm.

Death’s eyes are wide beneath his mask and affixed to the spot on his thigh you’d just touched without ceremony, without a single remark, like it was an entirely normal thing to do.

Certainly, you’ve touched Death before, and he’s touched you out of necessity, mostly. But here, in this dingy room belonging to an undead, the Nephilim takes particular note of the casual gesture, and he’s once again reminded of who and what he is, and what an outlier you are to touch the Reaper without fear.

Is that all it takes? Pretending he hadn’t heard you pour your grief out onto a stranger’s pillow makes him a good man?

Is that… how you see him…?

No. It was just another throwaway comment, meant to lighten the solemn mood that had taken hold of the room.

For a distracted moment, Death wonders if he can really feel the warmth of your skin through the leather of his trousers, or if it’s just a figment of his imagination. Whatever it is, it robs him of any witty remarks that might slip out to disrupt this tender moment.

A good man…

“You should try going back to sleep,” he offers absently, tearing his eyes off his leg to look down at you. The imagined warmth in his thigh has travelled to his chest, which is odd, given that you didn’t lay your hand anywhere near it.

Heaving a sigh, you ask, “How long do you think until sunrise?”

“Mm, at least another several Earth hours,” he says, “Plenty of time still to rest.”

Your fingers clench into fists around the blanket beneath you. “Plenty of time to dream…”

The old Nephilim’s mask turns to face you properly, eyes of liquid gold and sunset orange illuminating the darkness of his sockets. “Dreams cannot hurt you,” he says with conviction, partly because he knows they can’t, and partly because nothing, not even a nightmare could hurt you with a Horseman keeping watch.

“But they can make you sad…” you point out.

Hesitating, he has to take a second to remember that sadness can be potent enough to hurt a human. “I suppose they can,” he concedes reluctantly.

“That hurts, sometimes,” you whisper, drawing your knees up onto the bed and folding your arms around them, clinging tightly, eyes downcast to the floor, “Waking up and realising the people in them aren’t here anymore.”

Shifting his weight to prop a hand on one knee, he leans forwards so that he can meet your faraway gaze. “That pain will fade, given time,” he offers, echoing a conversation eons past.

After a second, your eyes slide sideways and align with his, and he can’t deny the glimmer of triumph that raises his chin at the sight of your gentle smile.

“I hope you’re right, Death,” you reply, “I really do.”

“You’ll find I’m not often wrong twice in as many days.” He’s referring to his… miscalculation with the heart stones and the Guardian, of course.

Did that really only happen yesterday?

“Cocky,” you snort, swiping a finger under the still damp corner of your eye, “Nice to know great, big Horsemen can make mistakes too though.”

“Is it?” he scoffs. He’d have thought it’d be daunting that the Nephilim whose charge you find yourself under isn’t actually as infallible as he’d like to claim.

“Yeah,” you hum, giving him a thoughtful look, “I guess to err isn’t just human, after all.”

Death waits, bracing himself to balk, to feel a spike of offence run through his veins at being told he shares a – rather undesirable – quality with humans. He waits, and feels-

… Nothing. No contempt. No disdain or disappointment. Maybe just a touch of surprise.

“I’m gonna miss them,” you murmur, derailing the Horseman’s train of thought.

“The makers?”

“Everyone,” you stress, “The makers, Blackroot, Warden…”

Coughing lightly into a fist, Death has to peel his eyes away to avoid looking at you when he says, “I’m sure they’ll be…. of a similar mindset.” Honesty, vulnerability, words that have real significance don’t come so easily to the Horseman. If they did, he’d tell you that those makers are going to miss you more than you could possibly know.

Chewing on your lip, you idly kick an ankle against the side of the bed and ask, “Do you think I’ll ever see them again?”

In response, Death huffs out a short, soft laugh, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. “Do I think you’ll see them again?” he echoes, “Y/n, I’m almost certain of it.”

“… Wait. Seriously?”

“Don’t I seem serious?” he blinks languidly.

“Yeah, it’s just… that sounded like optimism. And coming from you, that’s… I mean…” Squinting through the dark at him, you fold your hands in your lap and ask, “Are you feeling all right?”

The Horseman’s lips quirk up, though his voice retains a gruff and unimpressed melody as his shoulders jump with a brusque harrumph. “You must be feeling better if you’re already poking fun,” he grouses, assessing the miniscule glow of humour tucked around the corners of your mouth.

“I am, actually,” you shrug, flicking a glance over his mask and tipping your head with a knowing smile, “Maybe Dust isn’t the only one who’s good at cheering me-“

Three, gentle knocks on a nearby surface of wood break through your sentence like hammer blows ringing off an anvil.

From one blink to the next, the Horseman is inexplicably on his feet, flinging a strong, sinewy arm out in front of you, all at once alert and suspicious, whilst behind him, you scramble off the bed with far less grace, fighting to find stability for a moment before you square your feet and send a wary glance over his appendage at the room’s entrance.

“Hello?” you call, swiping furiously at your cheeks to rid them of what little trace of tears might still cling to your skin.

Death doesn’t turn to face you, but you’d be hard-pressed to miss the disgruntled sigh that slips out from under his mask at your tactical blunder.

You’ve all but announced that you – a human, need you be reminded – are in here.

A voice from outside calls out, muffled behind the thick layer of wood. “… Lady - Ah, I mean, Y/n?”

The tension doesn’t seem to drain out of Death nearly as fast as it drains out of you.

Draven.

Before the Horseman can stop you, you’ve already ducked underneath his arm, reaching up to distractedly smooth down your bedhead as you call out, “Oh, Draven, uh, coming!”

You hear your name uttered in a growl behind you, but you wave off the ornery Nephilim with a flap of your hand, twisting about to face him as you make for the door, hissing, “It’s his room, Death. If he wants to come in here, he has every right to.”

Realising your hand is reaching to pull the door open, Death surges forward, intent on getting to it before you – ‘just in case,’ a voice at the back of his head whispers – but he doesn’t make it halfway to you when you grab the brass handle and tug the rotting wood towards you, letting dull, green light spill into the quarters and creep up the opposite wall.

A familiar silhouette looms in the doorway, framing the space with broad shoulders and a tattered shroud that’s been pulled low to half cover a skeletal, ghoulish face. From your angle, standing at least a foot and a half shorter than the figure, you can see up underneath his hood.

You regret your haste to open the door, simply because you aren’t at all ready to witness the grim and ghastly visage of the Blademaster this early in the morning, but you stamp down on the temptation to reel back, and instead school your expression into a friendly smile. “Hi, uh, again.”

Draven’s luminous, blue eyes flare brightly as soon as they land on your face. There’s something held between each of his hands, though you hardly spare them a glance because, ever the gentleman, he’s already halfway into a low, sweeping bow when he suddenly stops short, bent so that he’s staring you directly in the eye.

It’s decidedly unnerving to have so much scrutiny on you, especially when the undead’s jaw suddenly locks up tight and his browbone snaps together as if you’ve offended him somehow without even saying a word.

“Uh-“ you start to say, only to find yourself interrupted when Draven rises to his full height again, unfolding at the waist and aiming a frigid glare over the top of your head. Coincidentally, an icy presence appears at your spine, pressing in close enough that you notice the hairs on the back of your neck start to prickle.

 A growl rolls out through the gaps in the undead’s hollow cheeks. “Y/n,” he addresses you, his voice hard as stone, “Has this devil done you a discourtesy?”

“W…What?” you blurt.

Ferocity bleeds from his lipless mouth as he glares at the Horseman who drapes you in shadow, pale blue eyes aiming to douse the liquid fire hanging ominously in the darkness behind you.

“Her eyes are scarlet with salt,” he accuses.

Raising a hand to your face, you prod tenderly at the raw skin beneath your eyes and realise with a sinking sense of shame that you must still look like even more of a mess than you did when the Blademaster first saw you. “Oh, no. No, Draven, it’s fine,” you sigh, dragging a hand down your face, “Just… Look, it’s just been a rough night.”

The undead’s glower lifts the moment he rips his eyes off Death and returns it to you, his forehead puckering with concern. “But, you’re-“

“- I’m all right,” you reiterate, crooking one corner of your lips into a tight smile that all but pleads for him to drop the matter. You’re mortified enough.

The look on your face must be adequately pitiable, for Draven’s stance relaxes by a fraction, and as his arms slump from their guarded poise, you hear something clunk woodenly by his waist, rousing your curiosity and tempting you to lower your gaze to his hands.

If you thought you weren’t ready to see the Blademaster at your door, you’re doubly unprepared to see what he’s carrying.

Clearing your throat, you bob your chin at his hands and ask, “What’ve you got there?”

“Hmm?” Begrudgingly peeling away from the Horseman, Draven follows your line of sight, blinking down at a little wooden bowl and cup he’s clutching in each hand. Suddenly very sheepish, the undead ducks further into his green hood, “Forgive me, I was going to leave these by the door, but… then I heard voices.”

“And what were you doing skulking about so close to the door that you could hear us talk?” Death asks, hardly bothering to hide his accusatory tone.

You turn to give him a quick, pointed glare over your shoulder, one that he ignores.

“Just as I said, Horseman,” Draven retorts, “I thought the lady might be hungry, so…” He offers out the cup and bowl for you to see, giving you an apologetic look. “I’d have left it outside for you to find when you emerged, I… didn’t want to disturb you while you slept.”

Before you can reply, a voice at your back pipes up.

“You were going to leave it outside?” Death scoffs, “Where anyone could have tampered with it?”

Ignoring the Horseman, you peer down into the proffered crockery, your stomach gurgling eagerly as a waft of steam drifts from the bowl and rises into your nostrils. Never before would you have thought you’d be so excited about something so beige.

A simple, brown stew is balanced on one of Draven’s large palms, lumps of what you presume is meat bob about near the surface, and a single slice of fluffy, white bread floats at the centre, drawing a rather embarrassing flood of saliva to the front of your mouth. In his other hand, the small wooden cup is clasped like a chalice of ambrosia, though the only thing that wets its interior is crisp, clear water.

In your eyes, he may as well be holding out a gourmet dish that only the wealthiest of men would deign to touch.

“Draven,” you breathe in awe, reluctantly dragging your gaze off the food and peering up into the undead’s hollow face, “What’s all this for?”

Puzzled, he tilts his head at you, as thought the answer should be entirely obvious.

“It’s… for you,” he says, pressing the bowl and cup closer to your wringing hands, “I assumed you’d want to eat when you awoke. It’s not much, just some pottage I scrounged up.”

You begin to reach out, unfurling your fingers to take the unexpected gift when all of a sudden, chilly fingers wrap around your wrist, and before you can utter a sound, Death tugs you tidily back into the room, taking your place in the doorway, and peering down at the undead. “Where did you get it?” he asks, ignoring the disgruntled huff you aim at the back of his head, “Is this safe for human consumption?”

Draven’s lipless mouth pulls into a sneer. “Do you think me a fool?” he accuses.

“I think you an undead who we’ve only just met,” the Horseman replies coolly.

The Blademaster leans back on a heel, appraising Death with an expression that borders on impressed. “A fair point,” he concedes. Seconds later, Draven yields a nod. “It’s safe, Death. Believe it or not, the King entertains more than just the dead in his court, some of whom still rely on sustenance to get them through the day. Supplies are not as scarce as they would seem at first glance, and I may be far-removed from humanity, but I still remember my way around a cooking pot.”

Then, wordlessly, he holds the bowl and cup out towards the Horseman, tipping his head to one side with an expectant gleam in his fearsome, blue eyes.

Death’s attention flits between Draven and his handful several times, squinting dubiously at the dull, brown slop. For a few uncomfortable seconds, the Horseman subjects your potential meal to a good, long glare, and then at last, to your relief, you watch him raise his hands and grasp the edge of the bowl between his thumb and forefinger, doing the same with the cup.

He doesn’t take them immediately, too busy giving the undead a threatening growl. “If she eats this and something happens-“

“-I’ll be meeting the business end of your scythe?” Draven guesses, quirking a brow bone as he relinquishes the crockery and drops his arms to his sides again.

Death’s eyes narrow to thin lines of fire, prompting the undead to let out a chuckle and raise his hands up in mock defeat. “I understand, Horseman, I understand. I’d be overprotective as well if I had a lady like her under my care.”

Half hidden behind the Nephilim, you suck a breath in through your teeth as your grim companion bristles like a cornered cat, almost doubling in size with the amount of indignation that swells his shoulders. You’ve only known him a week or so, but in that time, you’ve already learned that being accused of caring is pretty low on the list of Things Death likes to Hear.

And sure enough…

“I am not overprotective,” the Horseman seethes, but with such an air of petulance that whatever threat his tone might have been trying to imply is completely undermined. Not to mention there’s something curiously un-threatening about the sight of him clutching a bowl of stew that - not thirty seconds ago - he was giving the stink-eye.

Even Draven doesn’t seem all that worried as he casts a knowing look at you around Death’s shoulder, his ghoulish features scrunching into a wink.

“No?” he asks, cocking his head to one side and sliding his gaze back to the wall of Nephilim standing before him, “Well, in that case, when the sun rises, I’m sure you won’t mind if I treat the lady to that tour I offered her.”

He’s chancing his arm, and he damn well knows it. And because he knows it, he’s already watching for the precise moment when Death recognises that he’s just stepped right into a verbal trap.

Unseen by the human in their midst, Death’s narrow eyes are now almost indiscernible within the congealing darkness of his sockets, and it’s only thanks to their preternatural, fiery glow that Draven can tell they’re open at all. They float inside the pitch-black pits that have been carved out of an ivory mask, unnatural and eerie, like two strips of flame streaking through the night sky.

If someone were to strike a match in the air between he and Death, Draven is almost certain the spark would set off an explosion that could blow the Eternal Throne clear through the stratosphere.

Two options lay out before the ancient Nephilim: Allow yo u to go with Draven in the morning, proving the smug undead wrong in his judgement of Death’s character. Or refuse the offer on your behalf and prove him right.

Begrudgingly, Death concedes that the undead’s tactics have successfully tripped him up. Rare as it is, it’s somewhat refreshing to be kept on his toes. Not that he’s in any way pleased to be cornered like this… Not least because he has a reputation he’d like to keep intact.

“She’ll consider it,” he says shortly.

There. It’s neither a yes or a no, and vague enough that Draven’s expectant gaze darkens with disappointment. Death is tempted to smirk triumphantly. Just because he stepped into the trap doesn’t mean he won’t know how to get out of it. He’s almost offended that the undead thought it would be so easy.

But the acquiescing look on Draven’s face doesn’t linger for more than a blink before it’s gone.

“I hope she does,” he hums, leaning sideways once more so that he can send you another secretive smile around the Horseman’s bulk, a smile that you find yourself readily reflecting. It feels like there’s a connection there somehow, between you and Draven. Human and ex-human. It’s something that Death isn’t privy to because he isn’t and never was human.

You wonder… Hell, you dare to hope that Draven might just… get you. There’s common ground in your humanity. The soul that sits lonely in your heart reaches out for the tiniest promise of companionship, softening you to the undead in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Right now, as you share amusement at the Grim Reaper’s expense, you find Draven just that bit more bearable to look at. Even the swords and broken blades that jut from his person like morbid adornments don’t seem so gruesome.

“I will consider it,” you promise, prompting Death to heave a disgruntled sigh whilst you breeze over his complaint, “Thank you, Draven. Really. This…” This act of immense kindness, though it might have seemed so mundane if it happened on Earth, has done wonders to warm your heart after feeling your very soul freeze over after your nightmare. But how could you possibly put into words the comfort he’s brought you? Rather than overthink it, you merely give your head a tiny shake of disbelief and let out a soft laugh, “This means… so much to me.”

Laying a hand across his concave chest, the undead dips his torso into a shallow bow and replies, “For you, it was no trouble at all.”

To your own surprise, the chivalrous little display turns you shy, and you start to fiddle with the hem of your shirt absentmindedly, avoiding his searching eyes as you smile down at the floor near Death’s boots.

Clicking his tongue, the Horseman shifts to stand sideways in the entrance, sweeping an unimpressed glance between you and Draven.

You may have averted your gaze, but the undead certainly hasn’t.

From head to toe, you’re all but poured over like a scroll of parchment in an angel’s library. Shameless in his observation, Draven’s cadaverous eyes carve tracks across your face and roam down the length of your body, whilst Death goes mostly ignored.

The Horseman is no fool. Though the very notions of romance and attraction have forever eluded him, he’s old and worldly enough to have at least encountered both in some way, shape or form. Besides, even a dunce would have to be trying exceptionally hard to miss what’s right in front of his nose.

You’ve caught the Blademaster’s eye.

And there’s the rub. Demons, he can put his scythe to, corrupted constructs and bloodthirsty bugs can be slain to keep you out of their gullets. Even Karn and his, at times, glaring attachment to you were innocent enough, as if the youngling was more starved for meaningful friendship than companionship. But an amorous undead? Death doesn’t have any protocol for manoeuvring around that particular minefield.

Once again, if there is such a thing as luck, the Horseman would be cursing his own. Isn’t it just typical that in such a vast and limitless Universe, his path would somehow carry you right to the Blademaster – the only other sod in Creation who shares your origins? Musing on that, Death can’t help but wonder if there truly is some unseen, omniscient hand guiding you along your journey.

Whoever the puppet master is, they’ve got a sick sense of humour.

Draven was Human – famously unpredictable species, a stereotype you continue to substantiate – but more to the point, he’s an unknown, and Death doesn’t especially like dealing with unknowns.

“Well then,” he announces abruptly, causing you to jump and reminding him that he’s allowed the undead to linger for a few moments too long, “If there’s nothing else…”

The skin around Draven’s jaw stretches as he opens it until the holes in his cheeks are thin and long, but before he can utter a word, Death says, “Wonderful,” and with a deft swing of his elbow, he bumps the door closed, giving the bottom of the wood a kick on its way to make sure it slams firmly shut. The room is once more plunged into that grimy, too-green gloom.

“Oh, that’s real nice, Death,” you snap, “The poor guy gives me a meal and lets me sleep in his bed, and you slam his own door shut in his face.”

“… That’s it,” he grumbles, turning to face you and pressing the bowl and cup into your hands, careful not to spill its contents as you splutter out a weak protest and fumble awkwardly with the woodware, “Tomorrow, you’re coming with me to the Champion’s arena. Not-!” he quickly snaps when you open your mouth to speak, “- to fight. You’re to watch from the sidelines.”

Looking down at you through the dark, he can tell you’re torn between continuing to berate him and diving into your newly acquired meal. Your eyes flit back and forth between him, the bowl, and the door, through which you can already hear the fading footfalls of your gracious host.

You’ve bulled yourself up at Draven’s expense, lips twisting into an unhappy frown, but it isn’t to last. Not with how desperate you are to fill your belly with something warm and cooked. Venting out a huff, you begrudgingly expel all the hot air from your lungs and lower yourself down onto the edge of the bed, lifting the stew to your lips to blow at the steam that drifts from it. “How do you know I’m not considering Draven’s tour?” you challenge.

It’s a good thing you’re pointedly ignoring the Horseman in favour of tipping back the bowl, because the look he shoots you is venomous enough that it would have stung had you caught it head-on.

“Just... Just eat the damn stew,” is all he bites out.

Well… You’re only too happy to oblige to that request.

You try not to wolf down the whole thing in one go, but as soon as the thin, watery gravy touches your lips and washes onto your tongue, you’re almost bowled over by the sheer influx of taste. At this point, after surviving on little else but water and the strange jerky Thane gave you, you could have eaten a rice cracker and called it filet mignon. Several bursts of flavour warm the inside of your cheeks and seep over and under your tongue. A piece of meat slides between your teeth as you slurp it up and you bite down on it hard, finding the strip tough and chewy, but oh so mouth-watering.

You spare the briefest of thoughts to its creature of origin, though the moment soon passes when you swallow, letting out a groan that might have been embarrassing if you weren’t so sure you’re justified in making such a sound. Privately, you make a mental note to thank Draven profusely in the morning, though whether that’s before or after you apologise to him for Death’s behaviour, you haven’t yet decided.

“Holy-“ Pausing, you lower the bowl and sweep a finger over the corners of your mouth, delicately removing the gravy gathered there, “-Shit, this is good.”

He almost asks if it tastes strange or off in any way, but with the Blademaster's words still ringing in his ears, Death stuffs them down with the rest of his wounded ego and begins to grumble nonsensically to himself. In fact, he's so busy muttering under his breath and glowering at the door that he doesn’t even pause to throw a withering glare at Dust when the crow hops onto the bed again and struts up to you with the confidence of a bird who knows you’re a pushover.

Only too happy to reinforce that confidence, you deftly scoop a chunk of meat into your palm and offer it out for the bird to peck at.

“Overprotective…” Death scoffs heatedly, “The nerve of that…” His mask abruptly whips around towards you, giving you pause with your cheeks full of stew. “Do you feel I’ve been overprotective?”

Putting aside the fact that you’ve never seen Death get this riled about a jibe before…

Swallowing thickly, you draw out an unconvincing, “No?”

The strange glow of his irises flicker for a second – a twitch of an eyelid? “Well, if I seem that way, it’s only because you’re so damnably adept at getting yourself into trouble,” he complains, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall with a decisive thump, “And frankly, I’d rather avoid having an angry group of makers hunt me to the ends of the Universe if something were to happen to you under my watch.”

It’s not just a lie meant to preserve his pride. Not entirely…

“They wouldn’t do that,” you tut, bemused, tilting the bowl and taking another, long slurp of the stew, manners be damned. You never thought you’d eat a cooked meal again.

His chest rumbles moodily. “They would.”

A wordless peace lingers in the air between you then, disturbed only by the sound of you chewing through toughened meat and the gentle sloshing of stew as your fingers chase the pieces around their bowl. You pretend not to notice the quick, attentive glances being sent your way.

Dust throws his feathered head up towards the ceiling, his beak wide open around the hunk of meat you offered him. In a rather unappetising display, the crow gulps it down with a few bobs of his neck.

“Nice,” you grunt, pulling a face.

You don’t put your bowl down until every last piece of the stew is gone, and even then you have to fight back an urge to lick the interior clean, mindful that present company might find that habit a bit too uncivilised not to comment on. Even with the Earth and its civilisation far behind you, you can’t let go of table-manners. It would be laughable if the reminder of your lonely humanness didn’t carry so many undertones of despair.

Breathing a soft, satisfied sigh, you bend down and drop the bowl on the floor with a clunk, instantly exchanging it for the cup of water before you sit up again to watch Death glower at the doorway as though he hopes it’ll burst into flames.

There’s a rigidity to him that doesn’t suit the late hour and the warmth in your belly.

Casting your mind about for a way to free him from whatever monologue he must have rattling away in that enigmatic head of his, you take a swig of the water, regarding the Horseman ponderously over the rim of the cup.

“So,” you say, smacking your lips as the lukewarm liquid slides down your throat, “What do you think the chances are that Vulgrim’s delivered my message?”

Luminous eyes blink slowly, roving from the door to land on your face.

He visibly hesitates, then asks, “What would help you go back to sleep faster?”

Your deadpan stare is ruined by an unseemly snort and flutter of your lips. “Just humour me, wise guy.”

“Very well…” Death grunts, “Chances are slim.”

“… Don’t know why I bother.”

Despite your tone, you’re secretly pleased when his broad shoulders slacken as he chuckles, unfolding his arms and resting each hand casually on his hips instead. “Given how often you’ve surprised me so far,” he sighs with an air of begrudging acceptance, “I suppose it wouldn’t be so shocking to learn you’ve actually convinced the demon to go through with your favour.”

“I surprise you?” you smile.

 “At every turn.”

“Aw~”

“That’s not a compliment.”

“Oh.”

It is. It absolutely is. But he’ll be damned if he lets you know what a luxury surprises are for a being who was confident the Universe had nothing new to throw at him. He’s already far too soft on you as it is. Paying you compliments paves a slippery slope towards irrefutable fondness.

Dust would be insufferable.

“Now then,” he coughs gruffly, more to disrupt his own thoughts than to get your attention, “You should… try and get some more rest. I’ll wake you at sunrise.”

All at once, what little levity had been draped around your shoulders sloughs away. He’s right. You should try and sleep a little longer. Moments like these, moments where you can stop to catch your breath, could well be few and far between in the coming days.

“Death? Will you…?” Your voice catches and you don’t finish your sentence aloud, working your jaw up and down wordlessly as a sudden but subtle wave of shame washes over you like an ebbing tide. ‘Stay’ is on the tip of your tongue. But you realise it’s a silly question to ask, even if a very small, very vulnerable part of you desperately wants to seek reassurance from the dour Horseman sharing this space with you. Death has given no indication that he plans to stray far from your side.

Bottom line? You’re afraid to fall asleep again, much as your overwrought mind craves a few more hours of unconscious bliss, and your arms feel heavy as lead when you lower the cup to the floor, setting it down beside the bowl.

If you sleep, you might dream, after all.

And your dreams are full of ghosts.

Fingers twist searchingly into the blanket you’re sitting on, squeezing and clenching until they ache. It grounds you, at least a bit.

You don’t really notice that Death’s mask is tilted to one side, watching your hands closely until he shifts, easing himself through the gloom until he’s only a step away from the bed. It’s sometimes convenient to forget what he is, when your heart misses home so badly that it wants to find humanity in everything around you, including Death. It’s easy to forget that he’s older than you could probably comprehend, that he’s wise enough to hear a human’s unfinished plea and be able to predict how it ends.

“I'm not going anywhere,” he assures you.

Relief unwinds your hands from the fists you’ve curled them into, like roses blooming from the bud.

Soon, you’ll be awake, and the tragedies of yesterday will be saddled to your back alongside all the rest, but you’ll carry them with you as best you can. You don’t have a choice, after all. You followed Death to the Land of the Dead.

When the sun rises, you’ll rise with it and face the consequences of your choice.

#I live #Darksiders #fluff #soft Death #jealousy #Draven x Reader #attraction #GOD it's late #But it feels good to post this #I'm still here

[carcarcraziiv2]

good afternoon, a request please, a request from the LOL boys, viktor, sett and the boy of your choice x reader how do you react if someone bothers the reader who is a vastaya cat or rabbit as you like

Oh my god, yes.

Yes YES YES I LOVE VIKTOR AND IM SO EXCITED TO WRITE FOR HIM WTH??!?!?

These are head cannons for Viktor, Sett, and Draven!

<3 Here you go! I hope you enjoy it!! :3

CONTENT / TW: General pushy person behavior (i.e. persistently asking out, messing with, touching), teasing/bullying behavior, defensive s/o, jealous s/o

VIKTOR~

Viktor! is observant. He likes to study your reaction and resolution to things, keeping a level head.

Viktor! notices a lot more about your reactions than you think- like how your ears perk up and your luxurious tail whips ever so slightly when you're excited, or how you fold in on yourself when you're upset.

When Viktor! came out of the dressing room with a few shirts hanging over his arm to see your ears pressed flush against your head, your tail wrapped like a coiled snake around your leg, his vision turned white.

Viktor! didn't wait to ask what was going on when he approached the man who had you pinned against the wall. Your eyes were wide as you sheepishly stood there.

Viktor! didn't take his time- he grabbed the man by his shoulder, turned him around and swung his cane into the man's ankles.

"Do not touch who is mine," Vik snarled, before grabbing you by the elbow and briskly leading you out of the shop.

"If that ever happens again," his accented voice still airy with adrenaline as he speaks, "yell for me. Understood?"

~~

Sett~

Sett! Rarely leaves your side. Arm constantly wrapped around your shoulders or midsection. You don't mind, you feel safe with him like that.

The one time Sett! left your side, he saw a dear friend at the park the two of you were at, and you gave them some space to catch up for a little bit.

Sett! has always been protective- so when he turns to glance at you and see's a bunch of teenage boys messing with your tail and ears- tears threatening to spill from your eyes, he swiftly cut off the conversation with his friend.

Sett! is a big, and I mean big, man. It is very few and far between that people aren't intimidated by him, even though you knew his true golden retriever nature.

The boys didn't see him approach, startled slightly when he spoke.

"You kids want to try that shit with me?" When they turned and coward, Sett! reached his hand up and flicked his ear to enunciate his statement.

"Bet you won't." His eyes were fierce as he stood there tall and awaiting response. The kids didn't even respond, they just turned and ran away.

"Th- thank you," you sniffled, seeking refuge against Sett's body.

"Anytime, baby. I really can't let you out of my sight, can I?"

~~

Draven~

Draven! is a showoff- to the max. There are no bounds to his pride, showing off his possessions, and that includes you.

Draven! adores your attitude and ability to handle tough situations on your own. You very rarely call to him for aid about anything, so when he heard your sweet voice bellow his name at the battle arena, he knew something was seriously wrong.

"Leave me the fuck alone," you had snarled, two eager fans of Draven! obsessing over whom they called, "his new little toy".

"What, you really think with all his admirers he'd pick a ratty Vastayan like you?" one of them snorted, grabbing your arm to yank you out of Draven's! seat in the overhanging viewing balcony.

You dared a quick glance down into the arena to see a sweaty muscular Draven! cheering along with the audience over the fallen man before him.

Seeing him so feral, you wanted to see what he'd do in response to your current predicament. So you yelled- and loud.

"DRAAAAVENNNNN!" The speed at which his head whipped in your direction was uncanny, creepy almost. You smirked at the poor fools who promptly released your wrist.

"Bye bye," you smiled, as you watched Draven's blade soar past your face.

#Viktor x reader #Sett x Reader #Draven x reader #League of legends x reader

[zdux]

Would you be willing to write some Draven Romance Headcanons 👉👈

I have no idea how this has become a Draven blog but yanno what, I can’t be mad, ya’ll Draven simps are creative and sweet

So FUCK IT WE BALL brb I’m gonna go read some of his lore so I know what the fuck I’m doing

Alright I’m back I read some of his lore here ya go

Draven X Reader Headcanons

Draven has always been confident in himself, since he was a child, and he has always sought out those who can match that energy. He surrounds himself in those who will sing his praises, and challenges anyone who questions his right to fame, but surprisingly, he grew attached to you; someone who had just as much confidence in yourself as he does.

He thought you were another arrogant combatant in the arena, laughing at the smirk he saw on your face as you laced up your boots in the armory.

But he was shocked, when you actually fought, that you were just as good as you thought you were. He still beat you, but unlike his other victims, he offered you a hand up as you lay bloody and beaten.

He offered to buy you a drink afterwards, exchanging fighting tips, offering to spar, and being pleasantly surprised once more when you managed to both sing his praises while building yourself up. He found it attractive; someone like him.

From then on, you sparred together, training all hours of the day. When you weren’t training or in the arena, you found yourself accompanying him to the banquets and parties that he attended. Despite the important guests there, Draven never found a need to “act proper”, nearly getting the two of you in trouble with many Noxian officials on more than one occasion.

But the more time you spent with him, the more you grew to adore his rowdy personality. He loved being praised, adored, being told how stunning he was. While all that bravado was real, he put it on a little more in public than in private. When you were alone, you noticed that his cheek would twitch when you complimented; the tiniest little slip of his mask; it felt like it really meant something when it was coming from you.

He didn’t like to let this mask slip, but he would do it for you, sometimes. You could notice it when you caressed his face, or said something sweet about him when you weren’t thinking about it. That cheek twitch, a slight softness to his gaze for a split second, would tell you that his heart skipped a beat.

Still the ever confident performer, he was really fast with courting you. Everyone likes him, everyone loves him, so surely you did too, right? He started introducing you as his partner without any formal discussion after you’d spent enough time together. He liked you, you liked him, it was simple from his perspective. If you asked to talk about it, he’d be confused.

“You want to be with me right? I want to be with you, what’s there to talk about?” And he’d scoop you up, showing you off like one of his many trophies.

I hope you enjoy! I haven’t written in a little while, but let me know if you’d like a part two!

#draven #league of legends #league of legends draven #draven league of legends #draven ask #draven headcanons #draven lol #lol draven #draven x reader #league draven #draven league #league of legends headcanons #lol headcanons #zdux writes #noxus #headcannons #noxus lol

[ma1dmer]

League of Legends - Draven NSFW

someone once told me i look like i'd main draven and i still don't know what that means

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex): He gets almost impossibly more energetic, expecting you to praise him, he might bring you something to wipe yourself with, but will probably get distracted by his reflection and how ripped he looks after sex.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): He likes everything about himself, his face especially, show him how much you appreciate his face as well by riding it. On his partner he gets a strange fixation with their mouth, when they talk to him and praise him or how loud they get from all the pleasure he gives them, when their lips are wrapped around him, when they present their tongue to him for him cum, he'll shove his fingers through his partner's lips ,watching their tongue lick him up surprisingly silent.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person): The filthier the better, he is totally the guy who'll fully make out with his partner with his cum still on their tongue, he'll cum everywhere loving to paint his partner with his release but the mouth has a special place in his heart.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): Probably a switch, he gets as hard having his partner cry from how rough he can fuck them , as he gets when they step on him and call him a good obedient boy. Pull his hair and spit in his mouth ,his eyes will roll to the back of his skull.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?): He is a whore, straight up this man cannot keep it in his pants.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual): He is willing to try some of the more acrobatic and weirder positions for sure, Airplane especially if there is a mirror in front of his partner to see them struggle to keep themselves from falling forward and the swing to show his strength.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc): Besides the fact of him being like that, he is not much for laughing during sex, he'll tease and mock and degrade his partner and won't mind the same back ,but straight up laughing? No, he'll take it personally.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.): He probably shaves shapes in it, look at his facial hair.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…): He might bring a rose or two out, wrap himself in a red ribbon and anounce himself as your anniversary gift, if that's your idea of romance, then yeah, he is extremely romantic.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon): Again, he cannot keep it in his pants, there could be people around and he would not mind pulling his cock out and jacking it , that's why teasing him is totally not the move. He is shameless.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks): Domination, Sadomasochism, Praise, Knifeplay, Cumplay, Exhibitionism.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do): Anywhere , you might be in the middle of an important job, he'll barge in the room order everyone out and if they don't comply fast enough they'll get a view of your ass as he yanks your pants down if you aren't fast enough to stop him.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going): He is as likely to get horny while you praise him, as he is when you degrade him, play his game or challenge him, in either case he'll make it very very evident how much you affect him. 'Keep running that mouth of yours hot stuff and you are getting it fucked'

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): There is little to actually scare away this man, maybe being boring, however boring sex is still sex ,just don't expect him to seek you out ever again.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc): Why not both, he gets off on being praised, tell him how good he is and scream his name and he'll be as happy as he'd be facefucking you.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.): Fast and very very rough, half of the fun is breaking things around the rooms he gets you in.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.): Absolute game! Its both a major ego boost if you seek him out for something quick.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.): Yes! There is little to scare away this man, he's willing to try anything at least once.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…): He is good with doing many shorter rounds, puts his all during those rounds , rest for a while and then again.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?): He gets a bit hypocritical here, he wouldn't mind his partner using them on him, but he really has the audacity to think that he is enough for you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): Not really, if you are fucking, you are fucking, there is no beating around the bush with it.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make): He is loud, he loves hearing himself might get angry if you tell him to geninely shut up, you have to be smart if you want to shut him up!

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice): Loves receiving as much as giving pain, slap him while he chokes you, drag your teeth along his cock as he thrusts deep in your throat, draw blood with your nails as he yanks your head back, it all gets him so hard.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words): I am tempted to say he is overcompensating, but i feel like he has an average to big cock which makes his personality worse. Like you are hoping to hit him where it hurts if he has a small dick but he knows exactly with what he is working with, and its a very good size.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?): When is Draven not horny is the real question.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): Depends what kind of sex you had, if its a quickie he is up on his feet flexing and laughing, if it was a night where he had you on every surface of his room, he'll just immediately drift off not even caring about getting you comfy.

#draven #draven smut #draven x reader #draven lol #league of legends x reader #league of legends #league of legends smut

[2dmanlover]

Heyy

!!when you don’t feel comfortable in this don’t write it and ignore me please :)!!

How would it be to edging Darius, Draven and swain?

ooo this is a good one. thanks for the ask anon<3. im going to try a bit of a new format for this one. 

a/n- sorry this took so long! found it unfinished in my drafts. forgot it was there lol. enjoy!

cw//edging, oral (m receiving), handjobs, choking, office sex? office oral (swain), some boot grindingggg :D

Edging

darius, swain, and draven w/ gn!reader/fem!reader (swain)<3 NSFW

It is rare that Darius let's you take control, but when he does, you can't help yourself from having a bit of teasing fun. It's when he's tired from training or battle that you decide to strike.

He's laid out on the bed, head supported by a pillow. You settle between his thick thighs, your eyes glued to his half lidded ones. With both hands wrapped around his cock, you pumped him lazily. Tongue swirling his flushed tip, licking up the beads of precum that formed at the top. You took over his senses, the sight of you hollowing your cheeks around him, the feeling of your warm and wet mouth, each sensation culminating in a shaky exhale. You felt him tense up, breaths speeding up, quiet groans scattered throughout. He stroked your face, combing through your hair with his big hands. At the breathless 'fuck' you drew from his lips, you pulled your mouth off him. It took him a moment to process, the only indication of the cogs turning in his head being the shocked and almost hurt look on his face. You beamed mischievously at him, crawling up him and settling in a straddle on his abdomen. He couldn't take you seriously, chuckling at your jestful actions. The rumble of his laugh in his belly vibrated against your heat, making you flush. If he hadn't been so tired, he would have given you a proper punishment for your impish behavior.

Draven often likes to sit back and let you ride him or suck him off, but won’t hesitate to put you in your place when you’re abusing your power. 

You’re being bratty, putting up a fight in bed, and Draven was getting pissed off. He decided he was tired of your mischief, the punishment being that you can only give him a handjob. No blowjob, no penetration, and you couldn’t even touch yourself while doing it. You sat next to him with begging eyes, heat aching to be touched as you curled your fingers around his length. Focused on stroking him, you thought about how funny it would be to deny him his orgasm, mulling over it for the duration of your handjob. You caught your lip in between your teeth hearing the deep groans rumbling from his chest. He threw his head back in pleasure; the moment he wasn’t looking at you, you grinded your soaked heat into the sheets with a small whimper. His cock throbbed underneath your touch and he flexed his quads. Just as you felt that thread about to snap within him, you let go, intertwining your own fingers in your lap. He snapped his eyes open, looking at your disobedient grin. He wasn’t going to let you get away with this, but he also wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction of a good spanking or something.

“You aren’t that clever, babe,” he said stroking himself lightly. You watched in shock and confusion as he finished himself off, spilling his seed onto his abs, not even letting you have the pleasure of giving him an orgasm. 

Draven grabbed you by the throat, rolling himself on top of you.

“You aren’t getting off the hook that easy,” he scoffed, teasing your clit with his thumb. You’re going to be in for a very long, long night.

You kneeled underneath Swain’s desk, pumping his hard length before wrapping your plush lips around him, taking him into your mouth. He worked on paper work as you worked his shaft in your mouth, not letting so much as a sigh out. You whimpered a little bit, grinding your heat on his boot, your sodden panties adding extra friction. 

“You’re distracting me, pet,” he told you. “Be quiet.” you nodded, looking up into his half lidded eyes. While you thought he wanted to cum down your tight throat, he had other plans for you. 

“Good girl. If you want me to fuck you later you’re going to have to make this last as long as I’m working.” He stroked your hair as you bobbed up and down his length, barely listening to him.

“Mhmm,” he scoffed at your affirmation muffled by his cock stuffed into your mouth. 

“How pathetic,” he scoffed under his breath, returning to his papers. 

You’d think edging your boyfriend would be a punishment for him, but it only punished your desperate self. Swain knew you wanted his cum more than he did; being so disciplined, he easily took advantage of this. 

Nearly an hour later, he finally filed his papers away into a drawer. You could have sworn he was so close many times, but alas, he was still rock hard in your mouth. 

He pulled you off his cock for the last time, helping you up as he lazily pumped himself. 

“Come sit,” he said, patting his leg.

#league of legends x reader #league of legends #league of legends smut #league smut #darius league of legends #draven league of legends #jericho swain #swain league of legends #swain x reader #darius x reader #draven x reader

[lordarsonizzzzt]

May I request some 3am breakfast date headcanons? Whichever doctors you want!

YES FLUFF BRING IT ONNNN

3 AM DATES HEADCANONS

CHARACTERS: DRAVEN AND TALLORAN, EVERETT KING, ICEBERG, ALTO CLEF.

DRAVEN & TALLORAN

✭ You were sleeping until a nightmare woke you up, you went to the kitchen to get a glass of water and gave a look at the clock that your roomates put on the kitchen, it read '3 AM.'

✭ "The hour of the devil" you thought and laughed a little, a few minutes passed and you were joined by a tired Draven who woke up from, you guessed it, a nightmare. You both started chatting while he made you both some tea.

✭ Other minutes passed, the clock now read '3:10 AM.' and Talloran also woke up because of how loud you two were getting while talking about fnaf lore.

✭ He stared at both of you and smiled slightly, fixing himself some tea to join the chatting.

✭ An idea popped up in your head and you voiced it without thinking.

✭ "We should bake a cake and watch some movies"

✭ The boys looked at you and decided that yes, that is what you were going to do that night, even if in like 5 hours both of them had to go to work.

✭ You drived around searching for a shop that was open and bought everything you needed and a little more.

✭ Now the 'we should bake' was more of a Draven should bake while Talloran and you helped with bringing stuff everytime he asked.

✭ While you guys waited for it to be done, you discussed what movie to watch. The clock now read '4 AM'.

✭ You settled with watching Shrek and see how many movies of it you can watch before falling asleep/having to go to work.

✭ Your cake almost got burned but you managed to save it.

✭ The first to fall asleep again was Draven, with his head on Talloran's shoulder and his hand on your hip. Talloran and you didn't stop until their alarm went off at 7 o'clock and they had to get ready for work.

✭ You wonder why they put their uniforms in a bag... But meh, you were tired and you didn't want to get in a fight to find out what they worked as, so you went to sleep.

DR KING

❀ This man got awaken by fucking apple seeds, so he decided to call you to see if you were awake.

❀ Lucky him! you picked up after two rings and you started chatting while he went to get a coffee ready, he knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep.

❀ You told him that you both could go walk around in a park or something, but the idea of doing that at 3 AM didn't sit right with him, so you suggested that he went to your house and you could watch horror videos.

❀ He said yeah why not and left his coffee undone on the living room table, got some comfy clothes on and went over to your place.

❀ You had made some popcorn and on the way he got some chips and drinks, and so you were cuddling on the couch while watching videos that made you squeeze his hand a little too hard. King was pretty happy because in your presence the apples seeds seem to stop coming.

❀ When he went to work that day, no one could understand how Dr 'I hate my life and apple seeds' King had a smile in his face the whole day and seemed to not care about the seeds that much.

ICEBERG

❄︎ He woke you up with speakers blasting 'You give love a bad name', then asked you if you wanted take out.

❄︎ Well, you are awake now so you said yes.

❄︎ When you went to the living room you did not expect to find a blanket + pillow fort and the TV on the floor.

❄︎ He told you to get in and pick a movie/serie/video to watch, so you did. Inside it was warm and there were a lot of bottles of soda around and two wine glasses, for some reason?

❄︎ He came back with food on his hands and sat next to you, seeing what you chose to watch.

❄︎ "... Why R/Slash?"

❄︎ You just watched reddit histories all night while drinking Cola from your fancy glass and eating hamburguers.

❄︎ If you differ on a history you would get into an argument and then go back to watching.

❄︎ That day he was a little more,,, passive at work, he didn't throw any chairs at some random researcher.

DR CLEF

✴︎ You were having a nice sleep until you heard things outside your window.

✴︎ You got up and before you could open it a rock hitted it, luckily the glass didn't broke.

✴︎ Before you could yell at whoever was doing that you heard a knock on your door and went to the entrance to see what the hell was going on.

✴︎ " 'S ME, CLEF, OPEN UP"

✴︎ You sighed and did so, finding your boyfriend with a really big smile, on what you suppoused were 'working clothes'.

✴︎ "LET'S GO TO MCDONALDS" "babe it's 3 AM, I doubt McDonalds is-" "I CHECKED, IT IS"

✴︎ So, it wasn't but he wanted to do something with you and, I mean, he might as well use his powers for something right?

✴︎ You two went and ate,,, lunch?? there. Clef was being his disgusting but cute self chewing with his mouth open while you yelled at him to stop.

✴︎ He smiled softly when he saw you laugh and if you were quick enough you could see his eyes soften too, oh how he wished he could hear you laugh everyday.

✴︎ He drove around and let you pick the music, but the usn was starting to come out and even if he's queer, he wishes that it wouldn't (get it? bc its ocming out...)

✴︎ He dropped you at your house and gave you a 'goodbye' kiss before you went inside, got inside his car and gripped the steering wheel hard while he tried to stop some tears from falling.

✴︎ He then drove to his apartment and got changed to go to work, oh how he wishes he could tell you why he can barely spend time with you, how he has to beg the 05 to let him go out without supervision, how he has to hide everything from you and lie to your face.

✴︎ Even a good night couldn't take away the bitter taste that train of thought left him.

#scp x reader #scp dr clef #dr clef x reader #dr king x reader #scp dr king #draven x reader #scp draven #draven kondraki #talloran x reader #scp talloran #scp dr iceberg #dr iceberg x reader

[whaleofatjme1920]

hiya!

may i request dr bright, glass, draven, and clef w/ a researcher s/o who is being picked on to a point where they get rlly sad?

thank you!

congrats in your milestone

Dr. Bright, Dr. Glass, Draven and Dr. Clef with a Bullied SO

[GN!Reader]

[Warnings: Like, none except for bullying but it's not *that* explicit.]

[AN: Thank you so so much love bug.]

Reblogs are appreciated! <3

Dr. Bright

He's quite perturbed hearing the office rumors about you. How dare someone mess with what he considers his? Bright is a very tired man, doesn't have time for other's people's mess. The moment he hears you're having a hard time, he's on it.

He's the scariest, most imposing man you've ever seen. You're lucky you're not on the receiving end of it. He starts writing up your bullies for the smallest things, making their rotations absolute nightmare shifts.

He does not tolerate people being mean to you, hurting you in any capacity.

As for you? He's very sweet and reaffirming, doesn't want you to feel bad. Takes his time to love you, and treat you right. Can't stand seeing you upset.

Whatever you want, you get. He spoils you and honestly becomes a bit overbearing for a period of time!! He loves you, and won't ever let you forget that. Reaffirms you mean the world and more, you're smart and confident, beautiful inside and out.

Dr. Glass

He's not the most direct man but he can be SUPER petty when he wants to be. If he finds out people are being awful to you, he's going to be downright awful to them too.

He's going to inconvenience them to the point they might lose their jobs. Doesn't like to actually hurt people but makes them deeply recognize their mistakes, seeping the guilt of how they treated you deep, deep into their hearts.

At the end, they'll probably end up apologizing to them because he made them feel really, really bad. And to be fair, they deserved that as they made you feel TERRIBLE.

Simon is really sweet to you as a result, empathetic, gentle and kind. He takes care of you in the sweetest ways because it hurts him to see you so hurt.

He makes sure you have healthy coping mechanisms and that you feel like you're worth the world and more.

Draven Kondraki

He's not often around due to being an active agent, but the two of you talk a lot on the phone whenever possible. So, when he hears you becoming more and more upset as the bullying gets worse, he starts asking his dad and other coworkers about what's going on.

When he finds out that you're having problems, or rather people are mistreating you, he feels his heart shatter. No one knows really how he handles it, but people start to treat you much, much better.

It's an almost over night thing, but those bullies start to avoid you, like they're scared of making you upset! You start getting little gifts, like peace offerings.

Draven is just happy to hear you're doing better. He smiles and tells you how much he loves you and is proud of you for being so strong.

When he's around to see you again, he smothers you in affection. Really, what more could you possible ask for?

Dr. Clef

He notices almost instantly what's going on between you and everyone else. And he hates to see you getting pushed around just because you're more soft spoken and sweet.

He's a scary guy, starts exercising his power and misusing it just because he knows it makes your bullies miserable. He makes sure no one else messes with you just because you're his and his alone.

The way he deals with them is morally grey, really, really grey. He's mean, runs their minds in circles, and pretty much bullies them back??

But he doesn't really care about them, but he does care about you. He's still a bit teasing, but sweet to you. A bit more gentle than he normally is for a while just to make sure you're doing alright.

Showers you in affection by gifting you a bunch of stuff! Does not let other people with bad intentions even near you, probably places them on nightmare rotation too.

#dr bright x reader #dr bright headcanon #dr glass headcanon #dr glass x reader #draven x reader #draven kondraki x reader #draven kondraki headcanon #dr clef headcanon #dr clef x reader #alto clef x reader #dr alto clef x reader #scp headcanon #scp x reader

[runeterrankhaleesi]

now i cant take this idea out of my mind ;-; so maybe if you could do a headcannon on Draven with a pregnant s/o, i'd appreciate it <3

and you probably hear that a LOT, but just want to remind you that your blog is amazing! Such nice writting. oh and also stay safe!

[A/N: Hello darling. I admit, this is the first Draven request I've ever received and by all means, it's welcome. Your prompt is actually very interesting to imagine about and write. Thank you for making a request. You may ask again for more.]

Headcanons of Draven with a Pregnant s/o

Draven?

THE Draven?

The infamous playboy executioner of Noxus? THAT Draven?

Is going to be a father?

Word gets around Noxus FAST, especially when you’re one of the famous figures in the country.

They’re very happy for Draven, don’t get them wrong, but they can’t help but worry for you and the baby.

HOWEVER, much to everyone’s surprise (and dismay), you were a COMPLETE mystery to them-considering Draven’s reputation. Which honestly makes you feel safe about actually having the baby.

But you know Draven more than they do (though you’d be jealous if they did). Behind closed curtains, Draven’s actually sweet and genuine behind closed curtains. Of course, him being him, he still loves the attention.

Your love story is practically a fairytale. The kind of love story that went “I finally found my true love”.

And believe it or not, this man is actually excited to meet the little one. The gender does not matter, he would spoil them rotten as if they’re a prince/princess (they kinda will be when they’re born) and just try to be the best dad in the world. Of course you’d scold him for that.

Even though you’re pregnant, Draven would beg for your attention NONSTOP. He’d be like “Hey, hey! Look at this thing I just did!” Or “Did you see that? No? Well, of course you missed it! You weren’t looking at me!” But the second you say that you’re tired, the tables will turn. His attention is now fully on you. Do you need to eat? Are your ankles sore? Are you craving something? Are you tired of walking? He’ll carry you back home. Just tell him and he will do it.

He turned into a simp, needless to say.

And no, he does not care about the looks Darius and Swain gives him when he displays affection to you in front of them. (They’re the only ones who know you and your relationship, by the way)

Draven would say he’s living…comfortably. Which means that every craving you have will be satisfied. Ice cream; salmon; caviar? YOU NAME IT AND HE WILL BRING IT.

That also means that if you want any kind of baby stuff, you WILL get it.

After all, he wants only the best for you and for his child. That includes being the best father.

#runeterrankhaleesi #league of legends x reader #lol x reader #lol #league of legends #draven #draven lol #lol draven #draven x reader #Works of Khaleesi

[frenchbreadandeggs]

hiii so id like to request a headcanon/imagine about Draven being in a secret relationship with a vastaya (secret in a sense that even his brother doesnt know). idk if you write for Draven, if u don't i understand if you don't answer ❤❤❤, but anyway thanks for your attention

draven and his vastayan lover

pairing: draven x vastayan! reader summary: having a secret relationship with draven as a vastayan a/n: hello sterzin! thank you for this request! this is my first fic/headcanon about draven so i'm not really sure if i wrote him accurately. i hope you like it!

Even though Draven is loud, boastful, and shameless in the pit, giving off the impression that he doesn't care about anyone, people would be surprised to learn that he is secretly dating you, a vastayan.

The crowd had assumed he hated "furry" people after an encounter with a yordle, and while their assumption wasn't entirely wrong, something changed when he met you in the depths of the markets of Noxus.

Let's just say he became smitten over you.

You were casually wandering through the bustling yet dark and gloomy streets of the market, browsing the items on sale, your ears twitched—someone was following you. And it turned out to be Draven.

In the early stages of your relationship, he mostly boasted about himself, his strength, and his skills, being the narcissist that he is.

"Draven, you've already told me that," you'd often interject.

"Oh, is that so? Well, what about this time when I smashed a man's head with my axe..."

"That too," you'd reply with a smile, finding it amusing how he could talk about himself for hours, watching his hands wave through the air to emphasize his tales.

You weren't quite sure how Draven managed to draw you in or how you managed to captivate him, but it happened as if by magic. Suddenly, the two of you were together, though keeping it a secret was necessary. Your tribe, being vastayans, wouldn't approve of your relationship with a human like Draven.

So, you would often go to the pits and watch from a distance, your eyes fixed on the throne room where Draven sat. Sometimes, you would catch his gaze wandering, as if searching for someone. Your eyes would meet, and you'd give him a gentle smile while he smirked. Draven seemed to think it was cool now that you were watching; he would jump into the pit and fight, flaunting his skills and strength. It was as if he was trying to impress you, and honestly, you were there for it.

While you keep your relationship with Draven from the world in fear of the consequences. You would share stolen glances and secret smiles during public appearances, both of your unspoken language speaking volumes.

For Darius on the other hand, he is unaware about Draven’s relationship with you, though there are times when he notices a change in Draven’s demeanor. Like his brother became softer or where he is not rash in private that Darius can’t quite put a finger on.

At times when you’re in your house, Draven would visit (almost everyday if he is not busy). He would give you gifts as his affection to you, even with him being a loud mouth and may not be best at expressing his feelings verbally, his actions speaks volumes.

Not only is his love language giving gifts (receiving gifts), he screams physical touch.

He would have his arms slither around your waist while you’re doing something in the kitchen. Place some small kisses on your shoulders as his way of affection towards you.

Draven want’s everyone to know that you are his and he is yours, but due to your kind you asked him to stay hidden about it. And he respects it, everything just for his darling.

He loves you so much that he would kill anyone who gets in the way of your relationship. 

#★彡[𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭!]彡★ #draven lol #league of legends #draven x reader

[vewyscawywriting]

Blood Rush

Fandom: League of Legends

Pairing: Draven x F!Summoner

Wordcount: 2814

Tags: Frottage, vibrator, little bit of overstimulation

Summary: Draven lets you watch him fight in his colosseum, but you have a little remote and he has a vibrating butt plug. You're drunk on power and want the man to swallow his enormous ego and watch him break.

Not a monsterchamp this time, but still a champion that doesn't get a lot of fanfiction love.

"Why am I not surprised Draven is pulling shit like this," came the grumpy voice from Darius who was leading you to the VIP area in the colosseum. "If the League catches you, you're done. You know that right?"

You groaned. Darius had been schooling you on the rules ever since Draven showed up with you to his place of work. It wasn't that Darius was a stickler for the rules per se, but whenever Draven was involved, who shit on the rules every time he got a chance, Darius turned into an angry mom. And this time his little brother had involved you as well - a Summoner he liked that was definitely not allowed here, his angry mom-ness had turned up to 11. 

He was right, of course. But you had such a nice day planned with Draven... A sly little smirk found its way on your face, and you were glad Darius didn't see it, because there was no way you were gonna explain the cause of said expression.

The VIP area was Draven's usual seating area. He had his big seat in the middle, with some space and extra seats for whoever he liked to invite to watch the gladiator fights in the centre, or in this case watch him as he did his 'glorious executions'. You weren't too keen on seeing that, but you had a reason you were giddy. 

A remote was in your hands and you toyed with it as you looked down on Draven as he entered the arena to the crowd cheering and hollering at him. He had his arms up, looking around the place and encouraging more cheers from the crowd that went wild. His gaze ended on you though, and he winked. You ducked further into your cloak, hoping the crowd hadn't seen it. Being in the VIP area alone caused enough of a stir as it was. 

Your finger was on the 'on' button, pressing down, but not enough for it to actually activate. Until it did.

Draven faltered in his steps, frowning deeply, catching himself before dropping down to his knees. To everyone else he had just mis stepped, but you knew better. You had turned up the vibrations of his butt plug to 11 for just a second before turning it back off, and he was trying to catch his bearings. Thankfully you'd turned off the vibrations almost instantly, winking at him cheekily from your VIP seat. A smirk forming on your face as you saw him send you a slight frown before continuing his grand entrance as if nothing happened. Oh you were gonna have so much fun with this...

------

You had looked on passively as he'd done his "work", until you decided it was time. With a little smirk your finger tapped the button again, turning on the vibrator, but this time on a low setting. Your eyes squinted, Draven seemed fine so far. He send you a fleeting glance, but managed to catch his bloodied axes with a dramatic flair, showing off his skills to the audience as he toyed with his enemy. 

Well, let's up the ante a bit then.

A few notches higher and Draven seemed to be struggling a bit. It wasn't obvious, per se, but to the trained eye it was very visible that the Glorious Executioner was distracted. Sweat had started to form on his brow, and his actions seemed rushed. 

You grinned as you leaned down on your hand, peeking over the edge of the VIP area. Draven's eyes found yours' once again, and this time his gaze was pleading. He had stopped showing off to the crowd quite as much, and you chuckled as you saw him misstep a couple of times, no doubt from something uncomfortably hard between his legs. An obvious shudder went through him as you turned the vibrator up a little higher. 

He had stopped moving for a bit, to others it seemed like he was giving his enemy some reprieve, but you knew better. He waved to the crowd and grinned a (very) strained grin as if to sell his act, but you saw how heavy he leaned on his axe, back hunched a little as he tried not to hump the air. 

You realized how close he must be, as he leaned down a bit, biting on his fist. You couldn't hear him as the crowd was still cheering, oblivious to Draven's plight, but you knew he was gasping and moaning. He was a loud man in whatever he did, and you knew he wouldn't be able to hold these sounds in, hoping desperately for the cheers to be too loud for anyone to hear him. 

The throbbing of your pussy that had started dully had grown to a heavy thrum, and every time Draven send a withering glance your way you only got wetter. Oh, this power had you drunk. Draven had stopped moving for a bit, and before the crowd would get more confused by his actions you decided to have mercy on him. The setting was lowered to almost nothing, as he shuddered one more time before glaring at you.

With an evil chuckle you waved at him, knowing he would've come inside of his pants if you hadn't stopped it at that moment. 

His adversary that had mercifully been spared so far, seemed to take notice of Draven's strange behaviour and came his way with an all or nothing attack, yelling desperately. He didn't count on his executioner to instantly regain his bearings and jump up, ending the fight prematurely. 

The crowd was stunned for a bit. Draven's strange behaviour chalked up to taunting the enemy into attacking as he'd do ever so often, but he never finished a fight quite so fast. Cheering started slowly, until it swelled to a full holler. Draven didn't stay to enjoy like he usually did, instead opting to get to the VIP area instantly. You needed to be taught a lesson. 

Realizing what he was planning you turned the intensity up a little again, seeing him grab the wall to the exit of the colosseum before his knees could give out. Laughter bubbled up inside of you as you rubbed your thighs together. Poor man had it bad. He didn't even glare at you as he finally managed to make his way to the stairs, the walls stealing him from your view.

The vibrations didn't let up. 

--------

Draven was on the edge of insanity. The constant teasing at the start of the match had him hard almost instantly, but he wasn't too concerned. He had that problem before and had no issue finishing his work before going to a more private place to jerk himself off. He had underestimated you and his enemy though. It was hard to focus, especially when you turned up the vibrations more and more, he had been so close to coming in his pants, hoping secretly that he would so he could focus on the fight again, but you chose that specific moment to stop the vibrations once again.

He shivered as he slowly made his way up the stairs to the backroom of the VIP area. The damn thing hadn't stopped vibrating, and his legs were feeling like jelly. Groans and moans came from him, unable to hold them in. 

When he rounded the final corner he ran straight into Darius. 

Draven was a man that didn't cry easily, but right now he really felt like it. Face flushed and sweaty, and hand heavy on his crotch, trying to get some relief he was practically caught red handed.

"Well, that explains the shitty fight." Darius said, shaking his head in disappointment. "Get to that Summoner and I'll talk to you after."

Draven breathed a sigh of relief ending in a desperate moan which was more from overstimulation than from pleasure considering the fabric of his outfit had practically rubbed him raw during the fight. He passed Darius, so very ready to open the door, take off his clothes and take care of himself, oh yeah and get his revenge on you after, but Darius grabbed his shoulder.

"Don't think I'm gonna let you off easy." was his warning as he slapped his brother's hand away, muttering a 'fuck off, you're not my mom', and throwing himself against the door to the backroom VIP area, practically falling inside.

------

Draven was taking a long time. You were afraid he was gonna take care of himself before he got to you, and that really wouldn't do.

If you hadn't undressed yourself so much you'd go and get him. Damn, you hoped he would hurry. Seeing Draven struggle like that had really riled you up as well. You were sure he had thought he could take it better when this idea was discussed between the two of you, but the poor man had underestimated you and overestimated himself. 

"Fuck, Draven, hurryyyy," you whined, gripping the couch you were laying on tighter. 

Your plea was answered by the man falling into the room with the opening of the doors.

Stumbling your way you smirked at his desperate face. His pupils were fully blown, and nothing was left of his earlier confidence. He was pure desperation and lust, and you held up the remote for him to see you play with the button.

"Y/N," he groaned, and his voice was practically wrecked. He was pulling at his clothes as he got closer, and you sat up, spreading your legs and leaning down on them with the remote dangling from your fingertips. 

"How was it?" you said, as if you hadn't seen every shiver and pleading gaze. 

"You little sadistic devil. Think you could do Draven like that and get away with it?" his sentence was breathless and littered with groans, and you realized the vibrator was still on. You pouted at him with an innocent face, gripping the remote tight, and hovering a finger over the button. 

"Whatever do you mean? Did I do something wrong? I thought we agreed on this." you turned the vibrations higher and saw the man in front of you crumble to his knees with a strained groan. He was bucking his hips, desperate for more friction, his pants still in the way. "As a matter of fact, I distinctly remember you saying that I could never break you with a little toy like this."

He murmured something and you tilted your head his way with a coy expression on your face, legs widening a bit more, showing off your soaked panties to the man. 

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I was wrong! Please just let me come!" he yelled out with a hoarse voice, and you had to do your very best to keep in the laugh that bubbled up inside of you at the sight of Draven, the Glorious Executioner on his knees for you. Begging you to let him come. 

You knew he was gonna take revenge on you soon, but for now you enjoyed this power immensely. Deciding to take mercy on him you turned the vibrator on fully, pushing a bare foot against his crotch as he humped himself to completion against you.

"Damn, almost killed me there." he said as he regained his bearings. You had finally turned off the vibrator, and he was very glad to be rid of the overstimulating feeling. Now it was time for his revenge. "Little minx, thought you could break the Draven like that and get away with it? I need to teach you a lesson."

He had you on your back instantly, hovering over you and grabbing your thighs. 

"Did you enjoy it though?" you giggled as you opened your legs wider around him. He chose not to answer, deciding instead to dig his fingers into your thighs deeper and frown at you.

"I should give you a good spanking for that."

"But you won't." you said cheekily, pecking his cheek and running your fingers through his hair, undoing his ponytail and letting his hair fall over his shoulders. He was still very sweaty and feverishly hot. You saw steam rise from his back, but he had caught his breath at last. With shaky hands he had finally managed to undo his pants, pulling them off while complaining how uncomfortable and gross they were right now.

"Now, where were we. Oh yeah." his large calloused hand cupped your soaked pussy roughly and you moaned his name, almost having forgotten about your own arousal. 

"You were horny the entire time weren't you, watching me in the arena." it was a statement more than a question, but you nodded anyways. 

He grabbed your panties and pulled them off roughly, slightly tearing the seams and digging them into your skin painfully. You barely registered it though as the moment the fabric was away from your core Draven had pushed one thick finger inside of you, moving around a bit before he decided you could take one more.

"Fuck, you really are absolutely soaked, huh? Did you actually come from watching me already? I wouldn't blame ya."

He was moving his fingers in and out, scissoring ever so often. Flexing his muscles as if to show them off while he was doing that. That was such a Draven thing to do. You were surprised there weren't mirrors all over the room that he was looking in as he was finger fucki-

...Scratch that. There was a mirror right across the room. Draven hadn't seemed to notice it, otherwise you were sure his attention would be on his reflection.

"Noooo, not yet," you admitted between whines and a little breathless laugh at his antics, "Didn't feel fair to you."

He rewarded you with a rough tit grab, as he dove for your mouth. Biting down on your lip instantly to deepen it.

"Oh, so you're not entirely evil then. That's good to know." He muttered with a grin after you broke apart. You had started meeting the thrusts of his fingers, and by now you were very aware of the fact that Draven had gotten hard again, his dick hot and standing at attention between the two of you. 

"Of course no- Ahh. I'm v... very fair."

He chuckled, deciding you were warmed up more than enough (and more importantly so was he), and lined himself up. 

"Now are you ready for little Draven?" he said, gesturing to his dick as if you had no idea what he meant, and you rolled your eyes.

"Oh my god, just put it in already."

"No need to get crabby," he said, as he pushed it in slowly, finally noticing the mirror across the room, and taking a good, appreciative look at himself as he pushed inside of you. At this point you didn't even care, his thick dick stretching you in all the right ways. His personality took some getting used to, but Draven was a very well build man, and he definitely knew what he was doing. Your legs were over his shoulders as he pumped inside of you with a snappy, deep rhythm, making you see stars.

"Shit, Draven," you moaned, one hand tightening in some pillows above your head while the other was on your clit, rubbing in rhythm with Draven's thrusts. After the whole show earlier you were unbelievably close, and a few well placed thrusts were enough to make you orgasm deeply, moaning out and throwing your head back. 

"Yesss, it's all Draven, baby, scream for me! Let everyone that passes by know who you're getting fucked by." He had removed your hand from yourself, placing it on one of his pecs, as he took over the onslaught of pleasure on your pearl. "Look at you, such a pretty sight. I should have taken you in front of that crowd instead of in this little room. Shown you off~" His words were breathless and rough, and his pace had started to falter a bit. You were honestly surprised how long he lasted after your earlier treatment and the battle he had, but you weren't complaining, edging closer and closer to your second orgasm. 

He was loud, grunting and constantly talking as he took you roughly, and he groaned his appreciation for you when he came, bringing you over the edge as well.

As you slowly closed your eyes to catch your breath, something fell to the floor, startling both of you. Draven groaned as he got off you, removing himself from your debauched body as cum splattered out of you at his retreat. 

He grabbed something from the floor and held it up the item for you to see. It was the remote to the butt plug that you were sure he was still wearing. You grinned and made grabby hands to it, but he crushed it in his hand.

"Nah-ah babe, that was a one time only deal."

You sighed sadly, remembering the price of said item. But as you basket in the afterglow you couldn't get too upset about it.

---

#draven x reader #champion x summoner #league of legends x reader #nsft #smut #draven #x reader #x oc #my work #league of legends

[racco]

Hey I saw your requests are open 👁️👁️

Could you write some Draven x Reader where the reader is a healer at the arena and Draven keeps getting hurt to go see her? ♥️♥️♥️

Draven x healer!reader headcanons

Fem reader

Ty for requesting, I hope I added enough romance in, I'm not very used to Dravens character,I hope you like it ^_^

...

☆ Draven is someone that doesn't get impressed easily, for a healer from the arena to catch his heart left him surprised

☆ Draven dose not watch what happens to his victims after they leave the arena, why would he care after all. one day he was watching a brawl from his seat, he was ready to be bored by their tasteless executions and fighting skills when he noticed the healers on the side lines. What were the healers doing in the arena? Well he didn't care all that much, anything goes in the arena after all.

☆ During the brawls some healers would rush in to do a fast patch up and then throw them back to fight

☆ As he was watching he noticed something about one of the healers, an exotic beauty made his interest spark, she is definitely not from noxus. Is this how she ended up in the arena as a healer anyway, because she was captured?

☆ He let that thought pass, after a few weeks he found himself having to train some other reckoner for a brawl outside noxus, during their training the other got hurt, nothing to big but enough to need the help of a healer, as they entered the small nurse office which Draven has never seen of course, why would he ever get hurt

☆ After Draven got the reckoner in an infirmary bed he was about to leave he saw who approached to help, it was that healer? He has remembered seeing her a while ago, oh he's staying here, as he watched her do the job he couldn't help but think what dose it feel like, he also saw how close she has to get to heal, maybe it's a nice feeling, he was getting bored around here anyway

☆ a few days after he couldn't help bit still think about what it's like, he has hurt himself on purpose during the training grounds when he was alone, wouldn't want someone seeing him like this, he made his way over in hopes that she would be there, and she was! He couldn't help after that day wanting to see her more, he just found her enchanting, even just watching her do her job on the arena was mesmerizing

☆ The healer has not been working here for long but has quickly learned about Dravens reputation of never being defeated or seen hurt, she was surprised seeing him showing up at the infirmary, at first she was a bit scared of him, If she told anyone he was here would he make her pay? Although she started seeing him more often and sometimes even thought their eyes met a few times while she was on the arena sidelines, they started warming up a little bit, she could maybe consider him a friend

☆ Draven found himself wanting to see her more and more, but how could he?

☆ The first time the people saw it they thought the world was about to end, why in the world was Draven not fighting back when he was in the arena? While some people didn't find it amusing, others loved his new style of letting the victim fight back as much as they want- injuring Draven and then he executes them fast last minute

☆ This reckless new type of performance Draven put on left him going to the healers much more often, going to see his lady friend much more often

☆ Oh not to mention Draven would only accept treatment from one specific healer, this led to many jealous fans but also made her be respected more, if Draven only wants her then she must be amazing!

☆ While at first the feeling of wounds getting patched up with soothing magic is nice, what's even nicer is this closeness and carresing of him muscles that is needed for the patching up to work, he would love to get used to the feeling of your hands on him

#fanfic #headcanons #x reader #fluff #league fanfic #league of ledgends #leauge imagine #draven x reader #draven league of legends #draven lol #noxus #league of legends x reader

[imagine-darksiders]

Cold Hands, Warm Heart. - Chapter 22 - Imagine_Darksiders - Darksiders (Video Games) [Archive of Our Own]

[throws this to the masses and retreats back into my bolthole]

#chwh #cold hands warm heart #Death X Reader #female reader #fluff #angst #Draven X Reader #onesided attraction #hurt/comfort #Protective Death #Chancellor #tired reader

[teakose]

Could you do headcanons of Draven slowly realising that something is off about his mind and that some sort of demon must be manipulating him but instead of eating his emotions or making him kill random people she drives him to read tons of books specifically warmason top secret stuff and make notes, when the demon takes her time out him he feels like he is losing his mind, as if he develops shizophrenia till she returns and stabilises his mind.

is this really late? yes, and I deeply apologize for the wait. I also apologize for not writing much about the second half of the request as I'm uncomfortable writing for mental disorders I have no experience dealing with

it is currently 1 am and i'm studying for a test i have in about 8 hours

i just finished watching my teacher for said class sing a rendition of baby shark that has me questioning my life choices for a study guide

anyway how have you guys been?

Draven and "Demon"!Reader

wc – 370 (good lord these are short)

reader – fem

cw – MENTIONS OF BLOOD, dependency on Draven's side, VERY ooc!Draven

[masterlist]

Draven can feel the disturbance ripple somewhere within the waters of his mind

As per usual, he ignores it in favor of twirling his blade whilst he slouches upon his throne

It starts off small

From listening in to the soldiers set to be executed

To finally cracking open the strategy book that had long been forgotten on his bookshelf

He finds himself…taking notes?

Something he used to actively avoid

Though, he truly knows something is off when he consults Darius about the archives hidden beneath layers and layers of top-notch Noxian security

His brother stares at him incredulously, blinking in confusion

Anger bubbles beneath his skin when he’s rejected, though he’s unsure why

It isn’t until Swain grants him permission does that odd second presence relent

Even then, he can always feel it as he combs through the archives, peering over his shoulder, whispering the names of chapters he finds himself turning to

When you reveal yourself, Draven feels as though a weight is yanked off his shoulders

You leave him with a kiss on the cheek and a blinding smile before disappearing into the mist that’s plagued his dreams

He tries to return to normal

Going to party after party

Busying himself with watching every execution that takes place

But its never enough

Paranoia swirls deeply in the depths of his very being

For the first time in a long time, he feels scared

Not something he, Draven the Glorious Executioner, should be feeling

But there’s a growing void in the back of his mind that begs to differ

Each night after each party, execution, or whatever social event he forces to entertain himself with, that void grows larger

Darius keeps a keen eye on his brother, knowing something is off long before his facade starts to crumble

When you finally return to Noxus for more information, you’re shocked to see the once seemingly untouchable Draven so shaken

His once meticulously styled hair is unkempt, and his room is littered with books and scrolls containing top-secret codes and passages

He turns to you, bloodshot eyes wide with awe and uncertainty

“It…It’s you.”

You stand stock still as his arms wrap around you, thus sealing your fate to Noxus

#league of legends—✧ #league of legends #league of legends x reader #draven league of legends #draven x reader

[zdux]

hi so, im not sure if you write for Draven but if you do could you write an imagine or a headcanon about Draven having a Vastaya lover that has a lot more stamina than him (if you know what i mean). 🧡👉👈

I haven't written for Draven before, but I am willing to try! I will most likely post this on my AO3 since it's a little "spicy," but before I do that I wanted to see if there's any specifics you wanted for the reader. Usually when I write Vastaya I go kind of bird themed because I write for Xayah and Rakan, but if there's any specific details or type of Vastaya you'd like me to include, I'd love to! Just send me another ask or message with the details, or if you'd prefer me to just sort of make up my own, and I'll go ahead and get started on it!

#zdux #zdux speaks #zdux writes?? kinda?? #draven #draven lol #league of legends #draven x reader #draven ask

[kagakuoniryu]

Hi there! I was wondering if you could write a Draven x Female!Reader where Draven thinks for a while that his lover died in a battle, only for her to show up at the arena with only a couple bruises

Synopsis :

Draven girlfriend comes back in the pit after he thinks she is dead

Type :

Headcanon

Warning :

Draven think you're dead so maybe a bit of angst in the beginning at some point? And I feel it might be OOC

A/N :

I'm not especially sure about my draven, maybe he is a bit OOC? Or his relationship with his brother darius might not be the most canon depiction? I don't really know, if anything feel free to send me another ask or a dm if I got anything wrong here!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draven isn't the type of person to get attached easily after what happened in his life

And yet there you are, hid girlfriend for a while now, at his side

He wanted to bring you outside of the main city for a date tonight but things got really ugly

A group of mercenary attacked the both of you, neither of you had your weapons so all was left was to punch and kick until you two were the only one left standing

But that didn't happen like it was supposed to

Half through the battle draven didn't see you anymore, that's when he realized they managed to kidnap you

After getting rid of those who were left he came back the city, he hated it but needed his brother's help, Darius

Together they searched for you and found their base

But you weren't there

After torturing a few member they told them that you were dead, and they simply got rid of your body

In a fit of rage draven killed them all and left

Little did draven and darius knew, you weren't dead, you got sold to some random person charged to bring fighters into the pits

You weren't even that injured since you had to stay even a little bit in good shape to fight, only a few bruise were noticeable on you

But blindfolded you didn't know where you were going and even if you knew draven's pit like the back of your hand without seeing anything escaping seems complicated

In order to mourn you, even if it wasn't official, Draven organized the biggest fight in his pit in all history of noxus

Everyone came from all the country to see this match

While you were given a basic weapon and sent there, your captor probably expecting you to die

Draven himself was not really interested in all of this, it was just an excuse

Until he saw you there in the middle of the fight, almost without a scratch

He couldn't stop the fight in the middle of it but he was ready to intervene if anyone even dared to lay a finger on you

Seeing you fighting got him excited like a kid in a candy store, and after a few minutes of simply watching he finally joined you so the two of you could fight together

Since he could get a closer look he saw the few bruises that remained on your skin, teasing you about it while still fighting alongside you

Once everyone were taken down the fight stopped, it was considered the end and you were both of you victorious

While coming back inside you told draven everything, and he didn't took too long to find the men who bought and of course after touching you they weren't allowed to live anymore

You both came back to your home, and for the rest of the evening you were treated as royalty, bath, medicine for your few scratchs, romantic dinner, nothing was out of the line

Once it was time for bed draven cuddled you to sleep, and only when he was sure you were in dreamland he admitted that he finally feared something

He feared to lost you, for you to leave his side, but forever this time

~hope you'll like it~

🌸Request are open🌸

#writing #request #league #league of legends #League scenario #League imagine #League headcanon #League of legends scenario #League of legends imagine #League of legends headcanon #League x reader #League of legends x reader #Draven #Draven x reader #Draven lol #Draven league #Draven league of legends #Draven x fem reader #Fem reader

[2dmanlover]

Just read your Darius fic; loved it! Would you consider writing one for Draven?

yes! anon reads my mind pt. 1 :D

Reckoner | Draven x AFAB!Reader NSFW Oneshot

CW// violence, explicit sexual content, a teensy weensy bit of angst, degradation, mirror sex 😜, Draven is definitely an Andr*w T*te fan.

A/N- I didn't realize I had more than one ask LMAO I'll get to those ASAP. I might start writing mini fics for those bcos I really don't have that much time on my hands and I'm a slow ass writer.

Summary~ One thing you’ve never minded was attention. You loved the way people gawked at your raw skill and talent in the arena, but you never would have suspected it’d draw the attention of the fan favorite of these depraved shows and secretly your biggest crush, Draven. 

2.2k words

You wiped the sweat that beaded on your brow, smearing dirt and blood onto your forehead. Your opponent locked eyes with you as he wiped your blood off his glaive, staining his soiled tunic. Through the white noise of the crowd, you could hear your heart thumping hard against your ribs. Whether it had been the adrenaline or the nerves, it was wholly undeniable. Despite your anxious thoughts, your ferocity and commanding demeanor never would have let it on. Even though you’d been actively bleeding out and denying the exhaustion that tried to grab hold of your body, you were determined to win this battle. However undefeated you may have been in street fights, the long winded, epic battles in the arena pushed you to the very edge of your mortality.  

You thought you’d play with the crowd; you flashed your pearly mink teeth at your contender before lashing your shiny chain whip. As the flail wrapped itself fast around his ankle, the masses erupted into applause. Swiftly, you yanked the whip back, simultaneously making your enemy fall flat on his ass and dragging him towards you. A cloud of dust shrouded the two of you briefly; when it dissipated, a remarkable sight was revealed. With your boot on his neck and your ruby dripping chain raised high in the air, the announcer called the fight. Your name boomed and echoed across the arena, washing over you as you came down from your adrenaline high.

Though you had been training for it for months, it was your first real fight in the Arena. In front of a crowd. In front of Draven. 

You seriously began to believe the only reason you had won was purely because you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him. When you joined the Reckoners, Draven had been the best of the best, untouchable, frankly; just like every other girl in Noxus, you swooned for him.

“The reigning champion is here!” A loud, familiar voice called from behind you. You turned around with a dusting of pink across your face and a bashful smile. Draven flashed a vain grin. He leaned against the bar and very obviously looked you up and down. There was something about him that excused these otherwise disrespectful mannerisms of his. 

“And… This girl!” He laughed at his own joke. You elbowed him. “So, how does victory taste?”

“Well, now I won’t have to wonder what it’s like to be you” you gave a shot at stroking his ego.

“Aww. Don't be jealous! You’ll get there one day. After I die, of course,” he pinched your cheek and you playfully rolled your eyes. Even when you’re the one complimenting him, he still finds a way to flatter himself. 

“Yeah, yeah. Bite me” you feigned a bit of annoyance. 

“Woah! We are in public, babe!” He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close. “But if you really want me to… Why don’t I take you home?” He whispered into your ear. The heat of his words burned your face and sent a shiver down your spine, lingering at your core. Oh, the things you can get away with when you’re Draven. 

You looked up at him, eyes wide in disbelief. It was like he was in your head, as he did everything you’ve fantasized about. He grabbed your chin with his thumb and forefinger and gave you a peck on your parted lips. 

You leaned into it, bracing a hand on his chest. 

“Let’s go,” he whispered. 

Draven escorted you from the bar with an arm around your waist; patrons stared as the gleaming couple walked past them. 

His house was not far from the bustling main street of Noxus Prime, but the walk felt like an awkward, silent, eternity. Maybe not quite awkward to him, as you would assume he’s taking a new girl home every night. The assumption drew you into a spiral within your own head. 

Draven just wants to fuck; you’re not actually special. Just another bitch he’d kick out in the morning. 

“Welcome home,” Draven’s confident voice interrupted your thoughts. You looked up at him; the conversation you had in your head was written all over your face. 

“Is something wrong?” Draven said quieter than you had ever heard him, putting his hands on your hips. His concern warmed you a little bit, quirking your lips into a soft smile. Little did you know, the last thing he wanted to do was scare you away. 

“No, just thinking,” your voice was mellow. He gave you an affirming grin and grabbed your hand, pulling you inside. 

You stumbled over the threshold, giggling as he flicked on the lights. With a rough push, you were pressed against the door, shutting it behind you. The loud sound of the lock startled you; you simpered at your own jumpiness. 

“Are you trying to turn me on or are you just oblivious?” His voice was thick with honey and the pale green of his eyes were almost entirely engulfed by his lustful pupils. 

You pouted your bottom lip and ran your hand down his front. Slowly dipping into the contours of his abs. 

“Hmm, don’t be so mean…” Your small voice and doe eyes lit a flame within him.

“Oh, you’re in for it now.” His fingers intertwined with yours and he smashed his lips against the pretty pink ones that formed a smirk on your face. 

Deft hands explored your body, admiring your curves. His hands were clumsy against you, but it felt like he knew exactly what he was doing. They’d settle on both sides of your ribcage, hugging the curve of your breasts. Though his hands stopped roaming, his mouth began. Biting and sucking purple blooms onto your pressure points. 

His thumb brushed over your nipple, sending a shock of pleasure through to your core. The air you sucked through your teeth came out in a sigh of his name. Draven took this as a sign to move it along. So he parted his mouth from your marked skin and picked you up with your legs wrapped around his waist. 

It was only a few achingly long steps to his bedroom, each moment built upon your anticipation. 

He threw you on to his bed, discarding his shirt and shoes, you crawled to the edge, kneeling just before his towering stature. The messy hair, flushed cheeks, and puffy bottom lip caught between your teeth looking up at him sent blood to his dick; he simply couldn’t wait any longer to fuck you stupid. 

“Don’t just sit there… You’ve got a brain behind that pretty little face of yours, no?” Draven teased while rubbing your cheek with his thumb. He revealed his sharp teeth in a devious smile. He’d do anything to see you roll your eyes, whether it be in disgust or pleasure.

Your eyes snapped down to his bulge and you licked your lips. Steadily, you began to unbutton his trousers while he carded his fingers through your hair. As you pulled both his undergarments and pants down, his cock lolled out in all its glory. With no hesitation, you held the base and stroked him once. You licked up his shaft and let the tip rest on the flat of your tongue. Through  your lashes, you could see the half lidded lust in his expression. 

Without breaking eye contact, you closed your lips around his cock and began working up and down, stroking the rest that you couldn’t fit. 

“That’s it sweetheart… You like sucking my cock?” His fingers began to grasp at the hair on the back of your head. 

You nodded and hummed as best you could, stimulating his dick and his ego. 

“What a little whore you are. Just for me,” he pushed you all the way down, the tip hitting the back of his throat. Your glossy eyes looked up at him for the eternity it felt like he was keeping you there. 

When he finally pulled away, a drop of spit crawled down your chin. He wiped it with his thumb and pecked you on your lips. You hastily took your blouse off and threw it onto the floor; your bra would soon join the pile. 

“On your stomach,” he demanded, motioning for you to flip over. A sting came down on your ass cheek before he smoothed over it with his calloused hand. You yelped in pain and pleasure.

Draven grabbed you by your hips and you perched your knees up on the edge of the bed. You teasingly shook your ass for him and he hummed at the sight. Ahead of you was a mirror where you could see the way your back arched up into the perfect rounds of your ass, and Draven, admiring you all out on display for him. 

His tip teased your weeping hole, smearing your wetness around your folds. And with a shivering groan, he pushed himself to the hilt inside of you. A moan was ripped from your throat due to how deep he had hit. Moans that would turn into squeaks as he began rhythmically thrusting into you. 

He grabbed both of your wrists with one hand and held them behind your back. Each intrusion stretching you out and sending waves of pleasure through your body. 

“Fuck you are so tight,” he groaned, gravelly and low. 

Just as you felt your velvety walls squeeze around him, he lifted you upright and pressed a kiss to your cheek. You looked into the mirror, watching your tits bounce as he pounded himself into you. The tip prodding at your g spot. One of his hands wrapped around your throat and the other found its way to your clit. He rubbed sloppy circles and whispered dirty promises in your ear. You couldn’t help the guttural moans that escaped your lips every time he said your name.

As your walls began to clench around his shaft, he fucked you faster and harder. The pleasure became unbearable, so you squeezed your eyes shut and repeated his name like a prayer. Your moans began to syncopate as you both neared closer to the edge.

The coil in your stomach finally snapped as he spilled hot ropes of his cum inside of you. You slumped against his chest and he held onto you tight. 

Carefully, you were lowered down onto your back on the bed, legs numb and the tips of your fingers tingling. Coming down from the high, you twitched and shook from the shattering burst of stimulation. 

Your fucked out head hadn’t even realized Draven had left the room until he returned with a wet towel and a glass of water. You smiled sweetly at him as he wiped the apex of your thighs and your swollen lips. A soft moan left your lips as he rubbed over your sensitive clit. 

He contemplated a bit, but soon a wicked smile would find its way to his lips. You could not see his thought process as your forearms crossed over your face, covering your eyes. Suddenly, you felt his hands grab at your thighs. The only warning before he flattened his tongue against you was the brief breath that warmly fanned your clit. 

You gasped and unintentionally tried shutting your thighs, but he was much stronger than you. Getting up onto your elbows, you caught a glimpse of mischief in his eyes, as he looked up at you through his lashes.

He masterfully swirled his tongue around your bud and edged your entrance with his fingers. As each of your moans got louder, he pushed his thick fingers into your pulsating hole. Your body shook and tensed at the splintering stimulation, sending you into another hot orgasm. 

White bursts clouded your vision as you submitted to ecstasy. Draven admired his work for a moment before laying down beside you. You embraced him through the aftershocks of over stimulation.  Your head was buried in his chest and his arm was around your back. 

As you finally came down from your second orgasm, you were finally able to form real, unfragmented thoughts. 

“Draven?” Your voice was small and coy.

“Yes?” He turned to you.

“You’re not just going to leave me in the morning and never talk to me again… Right?” The question was a little bit out of the blue, making him concerned.

“Of course not, doll,” he assured you. You looked up at him with sleepy eyes and a warm smile at his answer. “Y’know… I’ve been wanting to ask you this for a while– maybe now is not a good time,” his voice was a bit sheepish and he rubbed the back of his neck. “May I take you out to dinner?”

Outwardly, you were only able to show him a tired grin, but inside, you were jumping up and down with excitement.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted you to ask me that,” his eyes lit up. It felt completely out of character for Draven to be this bashful, but it was because he had never wanted to be in a relationship until he saw you for the first time. Any other girl he wouldn’t worry about making a good impression; you were different. 

His heart pounded in his chest, which was warm against your face. The softness of his comforter beset your skin, soothing you to sleep.

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