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soreddieforit · 5 days

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@jegulus-microfic | april 26: aimless | 1,276 words | trans! regulus

james does regulus' tape binding aftercare <3

James lingers in the doorway, quietly observing Regulus in their softly lit bathroom.

He's perched on the ledge of the bathtub, seemingly lost in thought, his head bowed and fingers idle and aimless where they trace the rim of it. He's shirtless, clad in only boxers and socks. His bare thighs press against the cool porcelain, causing goosebumps to rise there. Soft, late evening light leaks from the window, casting gentle shadows against his frame.

Outside, the rhythmic passing of cars punctuates the stillness, their headlights casting golden beams that dance across the wet asphalt. The nearby stoplight's red glow mingles with them, creating a surreal mix of colors on the shimmering pavement.

There's a soft rustle of movement as James enters the room behind Regulus, moving to the sink. He sifts through the contents of their vanity, hands passing over their shared face wash and the cup holding their toothbrushes to retrieve the items needed for Regulus' tape aftercare. Deft hands gather oil, washcloths, cotton swabs, and salve before placing them on the bathtub ledge. He approaches Regulus with a tenderness reserved only for moments like these, for him.

"Ready, love?" James' voice breaks the silence with a mellow murmur. He settles his weight behind him.

Regulus turns his head, giving a small nod against his own shoulder. "Yeah," he says, voice crackling from disuse.

James leans in to press a kiss between Regulus' shoulder blades. He lingers there for a moment. This close, he can see the faint dusting of freckles that mark his back. They're spattered across the skin like spray from a wave on sand. Speckles in shades of russet, sepia, and chocolate dance across his pale skin, shifting as Regulus shivers lightly. As James' lips leave his back, the muscles beneath those pretty dots tremble.

James reaches for the oil, uncaps it, and warms it between his hands. He presses both his palms to Regulus, carefully smoothing the oil over the edges of the tape. His touch follows the span of the tape from Regulus' back, under his arms, to the front of his chest. His movements are slow and practiced, designed as much to reassure as to treat. The oil glistens slightly on Regulus' skin, catching the dim light as it begins to soften the adhesive.

As they wait for the tape to loosen, a comfortable silence settles over them, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the city and their own quiet breathing. James doesn't stop his ministrations; his fingers continue to trace gentle paths along Regulus' shoulders, the back of his neck, following the delicate contours of his shoulder blades. These moments are so special to him; he wants Regulus to feel loved through his actions, to experience the same palpable surge of affection with each pass of his hands that James feels. There is so much trust that Reg offers him in these moments—it's intimate. James is the only person Regulus allows to see the most vulnerable parts of himself, and that knowledge alone makes James' heart swell with fondness and love. He has never loved someone as he does Regulus.

Regulus, Regulus, Regulus.

Sometimes, James thinks Regulus was crafted specifically for him; as if the cosmos themselves conspired to mold him to perfectly complement the contours of James' own body, his own soul. Looking back, it's almost silly to him now—he thought he knew what love was like before him. His heart was already overflowing with it for Sirius, his mum, his dad, his friends. He's always had big emotions, brimming with affection and fierce protectiveness for the people around him. He's always cared deeply and felt profoundly, but nothing could have prepared him for the depth of feeling that Regulus brought into his life.

James knows nothing, nobody else could ever make him feel like this.

He settles his hands on the edges of the tape on Regulus' left side. "Gonna take it off now, okay?"

"Yeah, okay James. Go ahead"

James pulls at the tape gently, easing it from the skin. He's careful not to pull too hard or move too fast, patient as he works. He grabs Regulus' bicep, thumb pressing into the underside, fingers curling over. "Lift your arm up, Reg," he instructs softly.

Regulus raises his arm, holding it aloft as James' hand moves back down to steady the skin being separated from the tape. He can't resist pausing to press a kiss to the underside of his bicep before continuing to peel off the tape there. When he encounters a tough spot, where the tape still clings to his skin, James reaches for more oil. He warms it between his fingers once again before lightly holding the piece back, rubbing it into the seam between Regulus' skin and the tape until it loosens enough for him to continue. He carefully removes the first piece, then works at a second, a third, before repeating the process on Regulus' right side.

There's still a faint trace of leftover adhesive where the edges of the tape once were. So, James takes a cotton swab, dips it in oil, and meticulously traces the outlines left by the pieces. He moves slowly, with deliberate delicacy, mindful of the soreness of his skin.

Once he's satisfied, James fetches the washcloth. He soaks it in warm, soapy water and carefully cleans the area, wiping away excess oil and any lingering traces of the day. Then he reaches for the salve—the last physical part of their routine, though James knows the comfort it brings goes beyond just the skin. Two of his fingers dip into the container, scooping up the soothing balm. James is so careful with him, his fingers so gentle as they spread the salve, taking extra care with the tender skin under his arms and over his ribs. He traces the rungs of them, then the dip of his chest, making sure no skin is left uncared for.

James then grabs what's technically his own shirt—a worn, soft thing that Regulus has claimed as his own, his favorite pajama top—from the ledge of the sink. He helps Regulus slip it over his head, taking advantage of every second he allows him to be so close, to take care of him.

"Feeling okay?" James asks once Regulus is settled.

He trails his hand at the hem of his shirt, slipping it underneath to rest gently on his stomach, careful not to brush the newly cared-for skin or his chest.

Regulus hums an affirmative, "mhmm." Eyes closing and head tipping back as he nods.

"I'm not just asking about your skin, love," James whispers. It's tough for Regulus sometimes, taking the tape off, sitting with his chest. It's a necessity though, for his well-being, despite the discomfort it brings. And James always does everything within his power to make it easier for him. He knows he can't fix everything, but he'd be damned if he didn't at least try to.

Regulus reaches back, his palm sliding from James' elbow to his hand beneath his shirt, their fingers intertwining at his stomach. Their faces are so close that Regulus' cheek drags against James' as he turns his head, planting a soft kiss on James' cheek. "I do, I feel okay. I promise," he murmurs, giving James a warm smile.

Leaning back into James' frame, Regulus lets his weight settle comfortably against him. "You make it easier," he breathes out, words floating into the space between them. Another kiss, "Thank you. I love you."

James holds him a moment, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath, heart swelling just a little bit more. "I love you too."

#i wonder if the transphobes in my inbox realize that all that they accomplish is motivating me to write more trans reg sooo #jegulus #regulus black #james potter #jegulus fic #jegulus microfic #marauders #starchaser #sunseeker #marauders fanfic #james x regulus

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satoruhour · 9 months

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if you haven’t done it yet! aftercare with gojo?

a/n: oh i just HAD to write this thank u for the prompt mirah <3

warnings: unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink but it’s described as briefly as possible

he used to think aftercare was sort of boring? i feel it’s because he never really found the right person so he usually does the bare minimum, cleaning his partner up, getting them water and making them feel comfortable

but he always felt empty inside after they fall asleep, always keeping his distance no matter what

that was until he got together with you and he feels like he’s been missing out on so much

i have a headcanon he’s so unused to affection that his partner will be the one to introduce aftercare to him

like foreplay, aftercare can anything you want it to be!

and he laughs at your comment, fingers shaking from how much he liked you when you sink into his side with the tv droning on at the back

gojo loves all forms of aftercare but i feel he would love a few minutes of cuddling and skin to skin contact before you actually clean up

always has a packet of wet tissues on the bedside table and a glass of sweet sweet tea

it’s kinda gross bc of how sweet it is and if you have a sweet tooth too then good for you

but otherwise it’s insanely sweet, and he uses his cursed energy to heat up the tea!!! waow

but if you dont want hot tea then u gotta drink lukewarm tea sorry

he always carries you. dont try to fight him but he loves to take care of you after sex. loves to wash ur hair and body and you’ll do it back to him :)

sometimes it escalates to another round but most times he likes the two of you in the quietness of the bathroom and just the swooshes of the water

he doesn’t prefer the bathtub or shower more but he’ll pick what you like and go along with it

if you still have energy he likes to watch random youtube videos like cat memes or funny videos (the ones he picks are not exactly funny however…)

you two rarely watch movies bc they’re really long but if you do you’re usually the one to fall asleep bc gojo is naturally replenishing himself with his technique. and also he likes to watch you sleep

creep

he takes photos of you when you’re asleep in his arms and he shows it to you the next day but one day youre suggesting to him that maybe he can fall asleep first

and when he stops his CT it’s like … woah. he falls asleep so soundly in your arms that it’s adorable and now he’s more open to being tucked under your arms to succumb to sleep first

that time also allows you to say your confessions softly and to admire him without any teasing

this time is very soft and delicate and intimate and satoru thinks it’s his favourite, but then again every moment with you is a blessing ♡

the air is thick and musky with sex, skin laced with tear stains while gojo continues to rock into you long after you’ve cummed, moans and pants leaving your mouth with whispers of satoru’s name. the kisses he litters there makes your skin tingle before he’s releasing in you, and it’s thick, filling you up while his lips meet yours passionately, muttering confessions with a smile.

“baby…” gojo pokes your cheek, your expression close to pure bliss from the orgasm that he’s a little worried but he knows you’re being dramatic. it’s something you picked up from him. “you okay?”

your eyes crack open a bit as your hands make their way to his cheeks, feeling the fat of his cheeks fill up your hands when he smiles. with a free hand, his hand engulfs yours, planting a kiss to it and the smile-turned-grin he gives you is blinding before he decides it’s been too long that he’s kissed you.

slipping out of you, he pulls you closer with an arm while the other brushes the sweat-filled hair from your forehead, lips capturing yours softly. you move together, languid and slow and satoru cannot stop smiling as he pulls away, drunk on you.

“let’s get you clean, hm?” gojo plants one more peck on you after twenty minutes; twenty minutes of talking in whispers and kissing (satoru’s doing). he waits for your outstretched arms, hooking his own under your neck and knees just as you plead for him to carry you. “such a big baby.”

you giggle, mumbling a soft yeah before pecking his cheek, holding his stare so full of ardent love that your heart feels like it might actually stop — it almost does when you feel the cold water from the shower head hit your back and you jump with a yelp.

satoru laughs, “my bad, heater wasn’t on.”

“bastard.”

“you certainly don’t think i’m one by how much you were screaming my name just n—”

you groan as his giggles only increase in volume, swooping you up easily before it falls silent and it’s only the sound of the shower filling your ears.

soon, the night is calm, something that isn’t the case usually with gojo, but you’ve casted such a deep spell on the strongest — the weakest when with you — that all he can do is watch your content face and humming voice with a silent love, fingers gliding through his white locks with shampoo and suds.

recently, satoru finds that he’s starting to smell more and more like you.

i have chronic loving-gojo-satoru-like-an-clinically-insane-person disease

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sunshinescribes · 7 months

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Heyy sunny, i just read the story about Law with his head bury on s/o chest and i was like: damn, that's hot. And i kinda think Law need more pampering like pat in his head, caressing his knuckles or something. So, since your request is open, can we get Trafalgar Law get pampered by his s/o?

If you didn't wanna write it, you can skip this one :0

TENDER

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x GN!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, comfort, Law is whipped but also bad at feelings

Sometimes Law thinks he dreamed you.

When you thread your fingers through his hair after a long day, massaging his scalp while whispering sweet praise, or absentmindedly caress his knuckles, leaving phantom kisses against his inked skin—he doesn’t think you’re real.

You come to him when he needs you most, as if you know he desires a comforting hand, a friendly word, and he melts into you every single time. His defenses shatter—the wall he’s constructed all this life comes tumbling down, and you hold him through the carnage.

You’re everything his heart secretly craves—so tender-hearted and caring, and wonderful—everything he feels he’s not.

And God, does he wonder what you see in him. Wonders how he manages to attract the kindest people when all he has to offer is practiced indifference. He doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, doesn’t voice the things he feels, but it doesn’t deter you, and despite how brilliant he is, Law can’t make sense of it. He could spend a lifetime trying to figure you out and would never even come close.

“What is going on in that pretty head of yours?” You inquire, your brow raised playfully as you stare down at him. “Can hear the gears in your head movin’.”

His head is in your lap, your soft fingers brush back mutinous strands of hair from his forehead, and he blinks up at you dumbly. It’s one of those rare peaceful evenings where the crew unwinds and breathes a sigh of relief as the Polar Tang slips through the sea, pushing you all towards your next destination with ease.

It takes a moment for your compliment to register—that pretty head of yours—and Law hates how his heart flutters. You say the most…outlandish things without considering their effect—flattery he never expected to like, but they always sound so lovely coming from you. The urge to look at anything but your pretty face almost overtakes him, but he fights his urges, keeps his dark eyes trained on you.

Instead, he arches a sharp brow at you and attempts to sound mildly offended, even though he’s certain you see right through him. “Pretty?”

You purse your lips, feigning thought.

“Would you prefer beautiful? Gorgeous?”

He rolls his eyes, but your soft teasing does little to calm the rapid beat of his unruly heart. When has anyone ever thought him pretty? Beautiful?

You say it as if it’s one of life’s simple truths, but he feels you’re much more deserving of such compliments, and he would shower you with them if he knew how to stop himself from biting his tongue.

Your free hand moves from its spot on his exposed chest, trailing upward until you’re softly cradling his jaw. You dip down, placing a tender kiss on his supple lips.

“Brains and beauty,” you murmur against his lips. “How lucky am I?”

I’m the lucky one, he thinks. To be cared for like this—to be treated like something worthy of being cherished and loved.

And maybe it’s the fear that makes the words catch in his throat, stops him from ripping out his bleeding heart and handing it to you.

He’s never had a good thing that lasted. Only fleeting moments of happiness, ripped right from under him just when he thinks tragedy can never reach him again. He’s lost so much already, and yet there’s always more to lose.

But you continue to smile at him, kiss years of self-loathing away, share your warmth and affection for as long as he accepts it, and Law allows himself to become a little hopeful—thinks maybe you’ll be the first good thing he gets to keep.

A/N: I feel like this kinda got away from me, but not in the "I wrote too much" way and more so the "I feel I deviated too far from the original prompt and am almost certain I was possessed while writing this" way. Despite that, I hope you enjoyed! I love love LOVE writing soft love for Law so this is a PSA to flood my requests with fluffy prompts!!!

Divider credit: @/cafekitsune

#sunny.fic #sunny.reqs #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x y/n #x reader #trafalgar law fluff #If Law listens to ONE Hoizer song he will feel so seen

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lehguru · 11 months

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AFFECTIONATE + STRAW HATS

the straw hats with a extremely affectionate crew member!!

warnings: this was a request, pure fluff, written with platonic relationships in mind + commissions are open !!

the straw hats are a very warm and sweet crew. none of them would ever deny the affection from another mate, but they all have different ways of receiving and dealing with it.

luffy would be a little confused at first. why are you holding his hand? do you want to take him somewhere? after spending some time with you, he wouldn't mind the affection and would be more comfortable about touching you too. if you're not the one hugging him, he will b hanging from you and whining about something.

zoro is the only one that doesn't really know how to deal with your affection. he would never hurt you or be actually mad at you for it, he simply does not know how to react. he will allow you to hug him and hold his arm, even give him kisses on his face, but he will always pull his hands away from your grip. if you ask why, he will tell you that he needs them to fight if something happens. but, eventually, he will let you hold his hand if you are in a more relaxed moment – in private too and don't you dare tell anyone about it.

nami would find your affectionate side extremely lovely. whenever you two are talking, she would lay down her head on your lap, letting you play with her orange hair while she speaks. she loves to cuddle to sleep and hold arms while you two walk around. if you want to give her kisses on the cheek and randomly hug her, she will mimic your actions and giggle loudly.

sanji absolutely thrives with the affection you give him. you can make that man your living teddy bear and he wouldn't mind it at all. kisses, hugs, holding hands, playing with his hair, everything is allowed. he often will initiate those himself; he loves to come up behind you, hug you and spin you around, then give you a light forehead kiss as you laugh. if you hold his hand and tell him he looks nice that day, get ready for him to pass out on top of you, his eyes turned into hearts.

usopp is a little shy when it comes to your physical touch. it doesn't mean he doesn't like it, though! he loves it! he just gets a little embarassed about it. whenever you hold him, he would look around to see if anyone was watching you two; if no one is paying attention, he would lean on your touch and reciprocate it. his favorite thing is when you press a soft kiss on the tip of his nose, it makes him feel validated and nice.

chopper pretends to not like the affection but he absolutely adores it! loves it when you hug him and give him kisses. chopper likes to be held by you as he explains something or while exploring a place the crew decided to check. zoro, robin and you are the people that chopper loves the most to shower with; the way you caress his head and give him little forehead kisses in the bath makes him so so happy.

robin finds your affection really cute. whenever you hug her, she hugs you back and chuckles softly. if you likes to read, she would enjoy having a afternoon with you cuddled up against her body as she reads a book out loud. she would prefer to not cuddle to sleep, but she's definitely alright with you sleeping closer to her.

franky is HUGE on touching as a form of affection. in fact, out of all the straw hats, i believe he is the biggest appreciator of skin-to-skin contact. you can jump on his back while he is working and he will chuckle, spin around while holding you and then keep on working with you as his backpack as if that's nothing. sometimes he might not notice you want to hold his hand because of it's large size, but just give him soft eyes and he will bring out the smaller hand so you can hold it as you wish.

brook would enjoy your physical touch more than he would let out, but he would also be a little insecure about it; after all, he is... well, just bones. if you don't mind it and still keep on hugging him, holding his hand and much more, he would be overjoyed, his characteristic laughter coming out of his mouth.

jinbei wouldn't mind, but wouldn't exactly reciprocate it. he finds your behavior a little odd, although a little endearing too, and he just doesn't know what to do to give it back to you. he will still allow you to hug him and jump on his back whenever you please, as long as you ask or at least warn him about it!

2023 © content belongs to lehguru, but the characters used in them belong to their respective creators!!

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undiscovered-horizon · 5 months

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(tw for mentions of nudity)

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

[After days of travelling, fighting and sleeping on rocks, a rest at a tavern is well-earned. Not feeling up to taste the nightlife with your friends, Gale and you retire early. The evening turns into something heartfelt and domestic as you wash his hair and hum a song he's grown all too familiar with.]

As much as Gale loves to be in the centre of your attention, it flusters him. He's grown so used to being the one doting and worshipping that he's quite unsure what to do once the roles are reversed. Is he supposed to gratefully acknowledge your efforts? Or sit twiddling his thumbs, taking whatever you give him?

How does one take affection?, he wonders in the back of his head.

The party downstairs is virtually inaudible to Gale as his mind is focused solely on the tender caress of your hands. The soap suds feel as though they transcend his skin and wash his very spirit clean. Or perhaps that's just what being loved feels like. His back is leisurely leaning against your chest. In some distant fantasy of his, you are reborn as his guardian angel.

I sowed rue in four little gardens In the fifth, I sowed periwinkle for you, Johnny

Your low singing is ringing in his ears the same way the church bell's toll is ringing in the ears of a saint - calling towards home. Gale shivers as your breath, like a ghost of love once cherished, brushes against his hot skin. The soothing sound of your voice is all too fleeting to him. If he could only grab it and bask in it any time he wishes to. Perhaps, if your place was among the stars in the night sky...?

Rue, my rue, I sowed you in the early morning I sowed you happily; grow tall, rue

He sighs, feeling your fingers tug gently at his hair. Whether you're washing it or rinsing, he's not entirely sure. The moment your fingers dragged against his skin, your nails scratched at his scalp, Gale allowed himself to drift into a comfortable limbo - somewhere between sleep and wake, between dream and reality. It is only by the melody of this song you so often sing to yourself that he can be sure he is alive and well. Otherwise, given the inexplicable lightness of his spirit, Gale might have thought he'd died and gone to wherever he deserved to spend his afterlife.

I sowed you, rue, in a wide bed I thought to myself that Johnny might come

Speaking of death: as the saying goes, 'curiosity killed the cat' and Gale, by his nature, can not help himself but die again and again.

"Not that I don't enjoy your little habit," he breaks the silence in a groggy, sleepy voice, "it's quite adorable if I may say so, but do indulge me: what is this song you're singing? I've never heard it before."

"It's a wedding song," you murmur your answer. Gale's breath hitches as he feels your lips stroke the conch of his ear. "In my hometown, there's this tradition of making newlyweds wade through the dancing guests to reach each other. If they manage to hold hands before the song ends, the Gods bless them and they shall be inseparable from that day on. It's weird how..." you hang your voice and sigh heavily, "no matter."

But Gale is quick to dismiss your silly belief that there is something uninteresting about your thoughts. "Whatever is on your mind, I long to hear it." The pleasing tone of his voice is more meaningful than the wizard's actual words.

For a moment, your careful movements come to a halt. He could, of course, protest the sudden lack of soft tugging at his hair or the pleasant scratching of his scalp but all complaints dissipate as Gale feels you resting your chin on top of his shoulder. "When I was younger, just a filly, I thought about the day I would get to nudge my way through the guests," you recall with both sadness and fondness in your voice, "but now I worry whether I will get to see the break of dawn. Odd how life can get."

He wishes to say something suave, to weave sultry words with skill comparable to Astarion's. Alas, he's too overly aware of your naked form glued to his back and your arms casually wrapped around his stomach. Yet again, Gale is flustered. "Oh, I'm no stranger to twisted and, frankly unfathomable, paths of life," he says, feigning glibness. "Having said that, you've managed to survive things most can't even dream of. If I were you, I wouldn't cross a wedding game off the list just yet."

No answer comes from you - at least not a vocal answer. You place a soft peck on top of his shoulder before going back to washing his hair and relishing in the song that reminds you of home.

The rue is withered but Johnny's not here When Sunday comes, I will be dressing up

Considering he has enough explosive energy inside him to level a city, wading through the mob of wedding guests shouldn't be a challenge. Although, if Karlach and Lae'zel are also invited...

But the doubt in Gale's mind doesn't let such fantasies go too far. First of all, would you even want to? Would you actually stand before him and proclaim to the entire world that you will love him for better or worse? As much as he believes you every time you profess your love to him, the longer he wonders about the proverbial 'until death do us part', the more he grows unsure. Because, honestly, out of all the people you've met on your travels, why would it be him? The man who famously makes bad decisions in the name of love?

Rue, my rue, grow green, rue I will cut you on an early Sunday morning

The thing that happens then leaves Gale even more confused about his own feelings and the matter of accepting affection:

You've finished washing his hair, taking your sweet time admiring the streaks of grey. Leaning back, you gently pull him along. His head falls back into the crook of your neck. If Gale had just slightly less self-control, he would have squealed when you kissed his neck and tightened your embrace around his midsection. You're holding him like a toddler holds their favourite stuffed toy and it's... nice.

Thinking about your trapping hug, Gale suddenly remembers something he wanted to share. "Did you know that a periwinkle is also called a Vinca, which means 'to bind'?"

A light-hearted chuckle rumbles in your chest. "Then I better sow a garden full of them for you."

_____

Halsin's version right here!!

(tagging those who shouted, y'all are the pillars of society: @cakenpiewhyohmy @hairlessgoblin @lillithhearts @day-dreaming-goddess @nico-ith @cakeboxie )

Your prayers have been heard!!!! (As though I didn't start writing this immediately after posting Halsin's version)

Changed the song at the last second because my former choice was a little too upbeat for the setting ("Jeleń" by Sutari, if y'all are curious)

#gale x reader #gale x you #gale x tav #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 #bg3 gale #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate #gale of waterdeep x reader #gale of waterdeep bg3 #gale of waterdeep fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #bg3 x you #gale dekarios fanfiction #gale dekarios fanfic

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gorgonwrites · 5 months

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neuvillette headcanons

NSFW below the cut! minors DNI. 18+

author's note: ME AND BESTIE BACK AT IT AGAIN! oh gods, this beautiful dragon man. he deserves everything and then even more. my best friend and i are probably going to do more headcanons for more genshin characters, so expect those from me soon. enjoy! <3

So shy and timid when it comes to showing affection for another person. He’s always learning, but love is a foreign feeling to him.

We already know it, but the man is the most respectful damn gentleman you’d ever find. Always opens doors for his partner, has his hand on the small of their back to guide them, and he offers his arm when out walking. He speaks gently, and is an excellent listener.

Has a serious shrimp allergy. He doesn’t feel like he’s missing much, though.

He hates being the center of attention, and it can even cause some mild anxiety if he’s caught off guard. Sure, he’s the Iudex and Sovereign of Fontaine, but if he’s not in the courtroom don’t expect him to draw attention to himself.

Always sneezes in threes– no more, no less. He has a dedicated handkerchief he carries with him everywhere to cover his mouth, and is always as quiet as possible as to not draw attention to it. If he’s in court and it happens, the entire audience blesses him. He used to ignore it, but he’s grown quite fond of the gesture and takes it as a small human act of kindness. As a result, if he’s ever in earshot when someone else sneezes he’s the first one to give them a blessing. He never skips over an opportunity to sow the seeds of kindness wherever he goes.

He’s learning how to cook. Not horrible at it, but he loves the idea of food inspiring community. He dreams of gathering the people he cares about most and cooking them all a yummy meal one day.

Can sing! And has such a pretty voice. He also has an affinity for most musical instruments he picks up. He’s quite used to the melusines asking him to sing them to sleep.

Hardly ever gets sick (he does get stress fevers quite easily), but is used to caring for himself if he needs to. The first time he lets his partner care for him when he’s ill, he almost chokes on the vulnerability that starts to creep out of his bones.

Loves his hair being brushed or played with. This is another instance where he begins to feel vulnerable– he tries to avoid the feeling the best he can, but as he grows comfortable with his partner, he allows the feeling to make a permanent home in his chest.

He loves being held. Even as big as he is, nothing stops him from curling up into his partner's arms to let his work fade away from his whirling thoughts. He has to grow accustomed to the closeness at first, but soon he can’t end a single day without at least having a few quiet moments in his partner’s embrace.

Receiving love, Neuvillette needs physical touch, quality time, and acts of service. He gives words of affirmation and acts of service to show his love.

nsfw below <3

Has a beautiful blue marking between his belly button and his cocks that depicts his sovereign symbol.

Neuvi’s ears, neck, and horns are extremely sensitive. Don’t mess with them unless you’re ready to have your brains fucked out.

Has a praise kink (giving and receiving). Any kind of encouragement goes straight to his dicks.

On that note- he absolutely has more than one cock. He’s usually so gentle, but if he’s worked into a frenzy he might just try to shove both cocks in at once.

Has a rut cycle. When he’s not in his rut, he’s an incredibly soft lover. When he IS in his rut, don’t expect to be able to walk anywhere for a few days once his rut is over.

Has a mild breeding kink. Sometimes he can’t help but think about his partner big and round with his child and it quite literally fries his brain a bit when he thinks too much about it.

Aftercare once his rut is over is GOD TIER. Hot bubble baths, hair washing, massages, snacks, cuddles. The WORKS. He takes his time soothing his partners after completely wrecking them.

ASS MAN!!!

Has a serious overstim kink, both giving and receiving. One orgasm is simply just never enough (or two, or three, or four…).

Is almost always dominant in his sexual encounters. He can be rough, yes, but he’s never mean. Think pleasure dom or service top.

Has a body worship kink. He thinks humans are beautiful creatures and always wants to explore every inch of his partners when he can.

Loves going down on his partner– probably his favorite thing ever after discovering it.

TANTRIC SEX

Has a tail that occasionally makes an appearance if he gets too worked up. He WILL use it to fuck his partner silly.

BITING. He loves leaving bites anywhere he can, even if no one else can see them.

Will only take one life partner, though he may play with other people if allowed. Once he’s formed the bond with his life partner, they won’t ever be replaced.

Will only allow his life partner to dom him. If he’s ever topped or dommed, it's a deliberate act of giving away his power to someone he trusts completely. These are some of the rarest moments where he willingly lets his worries and vulnerability spill out, and those moments are reserved for one person only.

in conclusion, he is quite literally the best man ever.

#neuvillette #neuvillete x reader #neuvilette genshin #neuvillette headcanons #genshin headcanons #neuvillette smut #genshin smut #genshin imagines #genshin impact

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aemonds-sapphire · 2 years

Text

Aftercare

Summary: You aren't sure if there is anything else Aemond can do to make you fall harder for him, but this certainly does it.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (lover)

Warnings: NSFW (very mild), Hurt/Comfort, Vulnerable and soft Aemond.

Word count: 1k

A/N: I'm a firm believer that Aemond is loyal and caring to those he has a bond with (the relationship with his mother proves that exactly). This is my attempt at portraying a more open and vulnerable Aemond. With this being said, I apologise in advance for the amount of fluff. But he deserves it! Set after he was named kinslayer.

A/N 2: I had to delete it and post again. My latest fics haven´t been showing up in the tags for some reason :/ sorry...

Warm kisses pressed along your jawline had you sigh as the concoction of hormones plunged gradually. It had become a ritual after sex, and one that you never knew you’d crave and cherish so much.

Aemond Targaryen was still buried deep within you. It wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable having his cock soften with each passing second. If anything, it made you feel closer to him.

“Are you feeling well?” he murmured, his breath tickling your cheeks.

Nodding curtly, you shifted slightly against him and smiled as he planted a soft kiss on your nose.

To anyone outside these four walls, he was nothing but the kinslayer, bound to having his whole identity be reduced to that of a heartless cold man who had his dragon kill his nephew. He was perceived as no more as someone who spared no sympathy or mercy.

But outside these four walls, you couldn’t have him like this. Stripped bare. Body and soul. He put on a mask and did his best to remind anyone who crossed his path that he didn't truly care about anything or anyone except his mother.

How wrong they all were.

How wrong he was.

“You are so...” his voice faded momentarily as he quietly studied your face. “... gevie.” he finally said as an afterthought, cupping your face lovingly and caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“You... you are beautiful...” you immediately offered back, which had his blue eye tear away from yours.

He wasn’t used to being praised. All he had ever known his entire life had been pain and grief. Even his mother's love couldn't make up for all the hurt he had experienced at those who were supposed to love him unconditionally. After what had recently happened in Storm's End, it had become significantly harder to have him open up to you. Even so, extending loving words to him was a sure way to having his entire devotion.

Succeeding in having his walls tumbling down, if even only for a fleeting moment, was not an easy feat. He constantly struggled with allowing himself to be deserving.

You placed your hand on his face, mimicking his caress on you. As your thumb grazed the narrow bump of the scar that ran across his left eye, you felt him stiffen lightly.

“I adore you,” your voice was but a whisper.

Aemond didn’t return the gesture, but there was no coldness in his touch. You’d grown used to his silent displays of affection. They spoke louder than any words ever could.

He took your hand in his and pressed a kiss on your lips before pulling out if you in a swift motion.

The sudden emptiness had a shiver spreading across your skin. His warmth soon vanished as he sat back on the bed.

Just as you prepared to swing your legs to the edge, he placed both hands on your thighs, holding you in place.

“Let me take care of you.”

Surprise jabbed through your heart, and you felt a sudden wave of tranquility wash over you.

Aemond’s lips curled into the faintest of smiles followed by a sharp exhale.

Curiosity was battling with your urge to clean up as his thick and warm cum started to spill from you, and layers of sweat sprawled along your entire body.

You had a faint idea of what he intended to do, and it caused your heart to swell.

“You don’t have to...”

He ignored you, extending his hand to grab a hand cloth from the nightstand.

As soon as he brought it to your damp forehead, you jolted.

“Really... you don’t ha—"

“Why not?” he immediately cut you off, and you recognized the beginning of a frown settling on his face… and something else.

While you were merely trying to let him know that this wasn’t at all necessary, Aemond perceived it as something else entirely.

Rejection.

The soft piece of fabric hovered over your skin as he awaited your reply.

It was utterly painful to see how the grip from his past insisted on slipping through every crack of his being. From his father who had done little to make him feel loved to the multiple dragons that had refused to bond with him util Vhagar came along. The insecurity… the fear of rejection… the constant attempts at proving that he was worthy of compassion... love even.

Slowly, you placed your hand on top of his still one, showing him that he was free to go on.

He hesitated at first.

But you smiled reassuringly, and he fell for it. His beautiful features softened as your fingers caressed his hand. A genuine sigh of relief escaped your lips once you felt the piece of cloth brushing along your skin once again.

“I've been wanting to do this for a while,” he said as if lost in the moment.

Even if you were just his lover, you couldn't help but to feel fortunate to have this side of him all to yourself. In fact, you often wondered if, when the time to take a wife came , you'd be able to carry on with your life as expected, knowing that the best you ever had had not ever been yours.

But you couldn’t keep yourself from smiling at the unexpected tenderness. “Really?”

“Kessa… you deserve that much,” he went on, carefully swiping the sweat away with skillful strokes. "You took care of me when others would refuse to."

There was a hint in his voice of something you couldn’t quite identify. It wasn’t sadness nor anger.

He sounded relieved.

“Even though mother tried her best, it was just not…” he trailed off momentarily once the cloth reached your lips. “I'm merely returning the favour.”

Your mind urged you to say something comforting and poetic, but silence took over instead as your body blissfully welcomed his every touch.

He had settled for having the palm of his other hand trail after the other, using the warmth to soothe you.

“Does this feel good?” he asked.

You nodded. “More than good.”

A genuine smile tugged at his lips, highlighting his beauty. “So you feel good,” he concluded.

“I do. And you?” you asked sweetly as his warm hand moved downward to join the cloth that was resting on your lower abdomen.

Aemond’s blue eye lit up, visibly staggered by your question. The reason was, quite frankly, simultaneously heartwarming and heartbreaking.

Barely anyone bothered asking him that. Something so simple, yet he had rarely experienced it. Not until you.

“I’m… good…” he replied, rubbing the fabric along your folds to clean you up from the mixture of your own wetness with his cum.

You jolted when it nudged your still sensitive clit, and Aemond immediately slowed down his movements. “Too much?”

“It’'s good,” you assured him, your sleepy eyes taking in as much as possible.

In time, you were able to learn that there was beauty in silence. In just appreciating Aemond's company. The world outside thrived in chaos, but here it was just the two of you.

It had taken him a long time to let you in and even longer to give himself to you. You had seen the worst of him, through nightmares that would have him scream into the night, to witnessing him struggling to deal with the weight of having started a war. However, you had also experienced him bettering himself for you.

Because of you.

You lay there in silence, but your heart was beating at a deafening pace. No "I adore you's" came from Aemond that night, or any night that followed. But none of those were needed, in truth. Those three words would never be able to convey his adoration for you, or yours for him.

So you took a mental note to scrap that proclamation from your mind, vowing never to murmur those words together ever again.

No more telling him how much you loved him; you’d show him, just as he’d show you.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond fluff #aemond smut #aemond x reader #aemond x you

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feyascorner · 3 months

Text

8 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. You try to swat him away, but his thumb swipes the droplets of blood to the side of your face, staring down at you with eyes that resemble rubies. You’ve always loved them, describing them as the gems you’ve stumbled across in such dire times, but now all you want to do is look away. They’re too harsh. They’re too cold. They’re too him.

You swallow the lump in your throat as he licks your blood off the pad of his thumb.

“It would’ve been better if one of us died that day.”

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, tav reader is a bard, italics are flashbacks

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. a little peek at what this guy is thinking before i move onto act 2 of this fic!! <3 also this specific flashback is not the usual pre breakup flashback it's right after the blushing mermaid incident !!

His nightmares have long stopped making him sick.

The same dreams where Cazador would have shackles around his neck and wrists, laughing maniacally while he carves runes into Astarion’s flesh, no longer bring him the same dread the morning after. Instead, he feels a kind of numbness that spreads past his physical being into the mindless stare he bores into the ceiling. Even before the birds awaken outside the city, it's quiet in the morning. This eerie sense of stillness used to be his favorite time of day.

Because when there’s nobody outside, there’s nobody to bring to Cazador.

Now, it feels too empty. Too alone. As if he’s the only person left in Faerun.

With nobody but his own mind, he begins to replay the events of the last few months. No matter how many times he does it, it doesn’t seem quite real. The nautiloid, the grove, the underdark—all of it. From the second he first bathed in the sun’s glory to the second he lost it all anyway, it doesn’t seem real.

It doesn’t seem real that he once had someone to care for him.

But he supposes he’s mistaken. He’s had plenty of affection throughout his centuries lurking on the city's streets, albeit rare for something genuine. Regardless, it did happen. Like Sebastian or other fleeting victims of Cazador who weren’t as crude as his usual prey. Genuine people whose biggest crime was falling for Astarion’s charms at the wrong time and place.

He doesn’t remember most of their faces anymore. He’s given up on trying to.

And like clockwork, his mind fades to the moment he first tasted humanoid blood as he begins to zone out from a particular part of the ceiling. A proper meal, rather than those disgusting rats on cellar floors he’s been allowed for most of his vampiric life. He remembers the liquid gold sliding down his throat and the sheer energy that came with it—some of which he hadn’t even known he had. He recalls the heavenly metallic taste of your lifeline. How, despite all the blood, all he could smell was your soap. How hot you’d felt against his own cold and unforgiving husk of a body.

Astarion swallows, forcing himself to focus on the chipped wood on one part of the ceiling.

While on any other occasion, he’d remind himself that he’d never have a taste of you again, you had given it to him. Even though he swore all the gods above were against his odds, you’d offered him your blood as he lay pathetically against the walls of the Blushing Mermaid.

But it had been different this time. Instead of that soft smile you’d give him when he’d drink from you in the past, all that remained was a stern frown. You hadn’t run your fingers through his curls and instead chose to grit your teeth, forcing your eyes away from where he bit into your wrist. Your generosity hadn’t been one stemming from affection but one of necessity.

You had flinched away from his touch.

He’s not surprised. In fact, he should’ve expected you to shove him away the second his mouth neared your skin, and he did expect it. But instead, all you’d done was brace yourself—as if you hated his touch—and forced yourself to stay still for his sake. It was akin to watching himself endure the skin of so many strangers in hopes of convincing them into Cazador’s dungeon all those years ago. He knows it’s not the same. He knows this, but hells, did he hate how dry his throat felt after, despite feeling satiated.

He would’ve preferred if you’d just left him there to bleed.

He hates that you hadn’t done so.

He hates that you hadn’t let him ascend.

He hates that he’s forced to live alongside you.

He hates you.

Before he can tell what he’s doing, he’s standing in front of your bed. How he got here is a blur, but he has a dagger in one hand and a fist in the other. You lie blissfully asleep, unaware of the blood-red eyes that stare down at you in a daze, illuminated by nothing but the moonlight peering through the windows. He takes a moment to take in the state of your room–and though he’s not shocked at the mess scattered around the ground and desks, he’s not pleased by it either.

“Gods, how do you even live like this?” he asks, as if you can hear him.

He glances at the glint of his blade and then at your sleeping face. The same face once peppered at least a hundred kisses against his cheek, laughing loudly when he’d feign annoyance at the marks left behind. You’d only snickered then, tackling him into an embrace and allowing him to return the sentiments. Those same lips of yours are now chewed raw, almost a bloody red.

“I could finish this endless fight right now,” he whispers, his grip tightening around the handle of your blade. “I could wake you with this knife at your throat, and you’d have no choice but to kill me. I’d return the violence, of course, but only one of us would live. There would be no use fighting any longer.”

Your chest only rises and falls steadily, and he notices he hasn’t seen you at such peace since he last slept beside you all those months ago. He doesn’t see the same expression anymore because when you look at him now, it’s always accompanied by furrowed brows or a downward quirk of your lips.

He wishes you would respond.

“Ha,” he scoffs pitifully, dropping his hand. He places the blade in its rightful place on your bedside table again and sighs. “This is much too pathetic of a death for either of us. If we were to kill one another, it should be done properly—not in this mess of a room.”

With one last pathetic scan at the details of your face, he turns to leave. But before he can even reach the door, he hears a soft gasp from your bed.

For a moment, he thinks he’s been caught.

When he whips around, all he sees is your clearly asleep form, yet this time, there is no peace in your expression. Instead, it’s scrunched up into a painful grimace as your fingers grasp at your sheets and your mouth falls open to take in breaths of air that don’t come to you. He thinks you might be choking on god knows what until one of your hands flies to your throat. Your nails claw at a collar he can’t see.

He glances at his own hands.

Oh.

Astarion slowly paces back to his spot beside your bed, watching as you writhe against nothing but the air. He realizes you’re not suffocating, but it sure looks that way. He doesn’t know what to do besides watch blankly with wide eyes, but fortunately for him, the moment doesn’t last long. In seconds, your hand falls from your throat, and you continue to grimace painfully. Still, you’re no longer choking.

The bruises have faded, but only physically.

The vampire feels his hand inching toward you but freezes, unable to bring himself within a foot of your restless body without doing something he’d regret. His mind flashes back to how you’d flinched away from his touch, and it’s enough to make him drop your hand again. And being unable to decipher what he’s supposed to feel, he just stares at the wetness of your lashes, his jaw tight.

His voice is rough as he speaks.

“You foolish bard.”

“You’re one of the Gur children.”

“So what if I am,” the small child, too frail for her age despite the fangs protruding from her gums, crosses her arms, huffing. It’s been mere minutes since you managed to sit her down on the forest grounds, bent down on one knee to reach her eye level, but she remains positively stubborn, glaring at the other vampire spawn who stands idly by your side while twirling a comb in his fingers. “That doesn’t change anything.”

“It’s important. You were turned recently, then, weren’t you?” you frown, and a flicker of recognition passes her before it vanishes again. “Why are you alone? Where are the other kids?”

“That’s what you want to ask?” Astarion hisses from your side, his hands stopping. “Stop indulging such trivial questions and demand to know whether the little brat was the one to kill that poor husband. The clock is ticking, and I still have to hunt.”

You snap in his direction. “Will you stop it? She’s a child.”

“A spawn—she’s a spawn. Get it right, darling, she’s no child.”

“You’re acting like a nine-year-old yourself.”

“Ha! As cute as it is that you’re attempting to insult me, let’s leave the lines to me, hm? Your delivery couldn’t be less enthusiastic if you tried.”

“This isn’t a joke, Astarion.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

You glare at him, and he glares straight back. The smallest of snorts, stifled by a hand, comes from Berry, and you both turn to look at her in an instant. By the time you do, she’s already back to huffing, her brows furrowed.

With an exhausted sigh, your shoulders slump. “So, did you kill Roger Highberry? Was everything an act?”

She hesitates, and though you dare to believe that what you see is sorrow, she wipes it away with a blink of an eye, gaze glued to the ground before her. “I didn’t kill him. I didn’t lie.”

“Do you think we’re idiots?” You nearly roll your eyes at his voice. “You’re telling me a spawn—one that’s been newly turned, might I add—wouldn’t go ballistic at the sight of fresh blood sleeping soundly just a room over each night?”

“I didn’t!” she spits, baring her teeth. “And I’m not talking to you! I don’t want to talk to you, you—you—asshat!”

It’s apparent that it’s her first time using the word, but you don’t bother mentioning it.

“You wretched little–!”

“Berry,” you sigh for the umpteenth time, ignoring the fuming elf behind you. “I want to believe you, but I need you to be honest. And when I say honest, I mean absolutely everything. Including why you followed me out here and tried to attack me earlier.”

She falters. And almost shamefully, she looks down at her hands again. “...I ran away from the other spawns. I didn’t want to be with them anymore, and I pretended to be an orphan to stay with Cora and Roger.”

“What?” you blink. “Why would you do that?”

“Ulma taught us vampires are evil for the blood they take from people,” she mumbles. “I didn’t want to be evil too. Even if it means leaving my friends.”

As she speaks, her face dawns with a wave of solemnness–one too familiar to yourself.

“If you’re not with the others, why did you send me to the Blushing Mermaid knowing that there’d be an ambush?” you finally ask, gentler than you should be with how Astarion impatiently taps his foot behind you, but you couldn’t care less. “It could’ve killed us.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you,” she blurts, searing eyes darting to your silver-haired companion. “I was trying to kill him. He tried to perform a ritual and kill the rest of us with the power he’d get…I might not be with my friends, but I don’t want them to die either. I don’t want to die.”

You feel your breath still. Astarion does the same, now unmoving from his spot. However, his shock stems more from offense. “Cazador would have rid of you anyway. You were doomed from the start.”

You glare at him, still maintaining a soft tone toward the girl. “He can’t harm you anymore, Berry. Nobody can.”

She points a finger at Astarion. “I can’t be sure until he’s gone!”

“Berry–” You reach toward her hand.

“I let you see Dalyria so you’d turn him in! Not to keep him!” she hisses, slapping you away with a snarl. “And the worst of all, you let him drink from you! You let someone who wants to kill the rest of us drink from you while the rest of us have to pay greatly just to survive! If you’re his friend, then I have to hate you too!”

Eyes going wide, you find yourself standing again, cheeks tinging red. “I—that was just–”

Astarion’s attention still seems elsewhere. “I don’t want to kill you, as appealing as it sounds at the moment. Even I don’t indulge in harming children, despite how annoying I find brats like you.”

“Stop lying!” she shrieks. “Petras said you’d kill us all! That the second you finish the ritual, you’d kill the rest of us to make sure you have no competitors. That there isn’t another person like you who’d go against the will of their very master—”

“Though it sounds positively delightful, I wouldn’t be the one doing all that bloodshed,” he snaps in return, fangs visible through the grit of his teeth. “It seems my dear brother has misinformed you. The ritual itself would’ve wiped you all—which would’ve been far better for the city, clearly—but I would only be making a choice. A sacrifice.”

While the two are too caught up in the wrath of their distaste for one another, realization quickly flashes across your eyes. Suddenly, you’re standing between the two, one hand inches from Astarion’s chest as a warning, while you keep Berry shielded behind your free arm. The act catches him off guard, and you think the downward curl of his lips should scare you. “And what do you think you’re doing?”

“Go hunt—or whatever it is that you do,” you demand, fingers inching closer to your weapon. It feels too dramatic, but you decide you can never be too safe. “I need to talk to her without you here to bicker and argue with a child.”

He scoffs. “Talk about what exactly? What more is there to know? You do realize that if I were to leave now, the brat would take another attempt at your life.”

“She’s a kid. I can take care of myself.”

“When you cowered behind me just minutes ago over a damn squirrel?”

Hells. You should drive a stake through his heart just for that.

Your eyes narrow. You might’ve entertained this quip on another occasion, but that moment is not now. “Go.”

His gaze flits from you back to the child, his expression indecipherable. You want to look away from his harsh stare, but your pride doesn’t dare allow you. And you’re thankful for it. “20 minutes then. 20 minutes only, and then I shall return.”

You nod.

With one last fleeting glance and a hesitant footstep, he turns on his heel, stalking to disappear into the darkness of the woods. It doesn’t take long because, after only a few dark strides and the rustling of leaves, he’s gone, leaving only you and the blazing vampire spawn behind you.

“Is that what Petras told you?” your brows furrow at Berry. “Is that what he told everyone else? That Astarion would’ve killed you once, he became an ascendant?”

She stares up at you, gaze blazing with rage. But there’s more to it. Loneliness, longing, and the most prominent: grief. Grief for the life that’s been taken away from her and reciprocated her payment in the form of fangs. She adjusts uncomfortably in her cloak, her tiny fists clenched at either of her sides.

Her silence is the answer you need.

This must be why the other spawn isn’t against the ascension. They can’t be against it because they don’t know how it works in the first place. Just as Astarion’s siblings believed the ascension would’ve rebirthed them alongside Cazador, the remaining 7000 spawns believe the same—almost ironic, in an endless cycle that repeats itself no matter what. They aren’t even aware of the ticking clock attached to their lifelines.

“Astarion wasn’t lying,” you say softly. “He wouldn’t have killed you after becoming an ascendant. He would’ve killed you becoming the ascendant. It’s the price of the ritual.”

She releases a frustrated grasp of her nails digging into her palm. “No, you’re just saying that because you’re his friend!”

“I’m not his friend,” you admit.

And despite expecting a pang of regret pulling at the strings of your heart as you say the words. No tightness in your chest, no dryness in your throat, and no shame for the lies pouring so effortlessly out of your lips. It makes you think that perhaps it’s not a lie. You dearly hope that’s the case.

“Then what are you?”

"I'm like you,” you say. "He tried to kill me too."

She frowns. “You let him drink from you. Nobody does that. Not for something like us.”

Your heart cracks a bit at her words, but you shake your head. “It was to keep him alive. To save him, as I intend to do for you.”

“You? You’ll save us?” she scoffs, clearly unconvinced, as she picks at the makeshift bandages wrapped around the wound on her arm. It’s a flimsy piece of cloth you tore from your cloak, but it’s better than risking it against whatever natural elements the forest offers. You gently pry her fingers away, preventing her from agitating the split skin.

“I did last time,” you remind her. “I’m the one that stopped Astarion from ascending—did Petras tell you that too?”

She falters. And while there’s an apparent hesitance in her eyes, there’s something behind all the rough exterior she’s built up from an undeniably traumatic experience of becoming a spawn. She looks up at you when you squeeze her tiny hand, almost hopeful. Because despite what irreparable damage the past few months have done to her, she remains a child. An innocent caught in a war of bloodshed. And what more can you gather from a child but hope?

“You want to stay with Cora, right?”

She nods sheepishly.

“Then you’ll stay with her,” you smile. “I’ll lend you my trust if you lend me yours, and you don’t run off anyway.”

“Promise?” You hold out a pinkie. She stares at it, but when she meets your eyes, she lifts her own hand to interlink with yours. For a moment, she almost looks like she's forgotten about the reality of her situation. That even if she were to live, she wouldn't be able to stay with Cora for long, given her inevitable nature.

How childish. Innocent. And you’d do anything to keep it from becoming more sinister.

“You let the girl go?” After ensuring Berry returns to her room, Astarion repeats the question for the third time as you turn away from the Highberry household in utter disbelief. The cold night air sends chills down your skin, and you wrap your torn cloak tightly around yourself, walking straight past him. Despite your apparent intentions of ignoring him, he trails after you urgently, following no matter how quickly your steps take you through the dead stillness of the city. “And what if she decides to kill the wife?”

“She won’t.”

“You don’t know that,” he hisses. “What makes you so sure she can go against her very nature to kill just so she can stay in a bedroom she shares with four other kids? All of which are very appetizing meals to her, by the way.”

You shoot him a glare. “I’m sure you would know.”

“I do. Which is all the more reason for me to step in so we don’t have to deal with yet another dead body on our hands.”

“I don’t need advice from someone who wouldn’t hesitate to use a comb as a weapon.” You rub the side of your head to soothe your headache.

“Seeing as you set a spawn free into the city, I’d argue differently.”

“Will you just shut up?”

“I didn’t accompany you to be a pretty toy piece at your side, darling. With the foolish choices you’re making, I have no other choice but to nag,” he rolls his eyes. The snarkiness in his voice is enough to snap what remains of your already worn patience.

“And you think you’re allowed to give me advice?” you spin around to face him, stopping dead in your tracks. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re basically a hostage! You don’t get to make decisions on what we do!”

“Well, who else will you get advice from now that all your little friends seem to have lost all respect for you?”

Your jaw unhinges. He stands firm, arms crossed, and it’s enough to make your blood boil. “Gods, you’re—you’re such an asshole.”

Astarion laughs bitterly. “Care to tell me anything new?”

“About your personality? We’d be here all night. You’re also forgetting that I fought with the others for your sake, you bastard,” You step closer, teeth gnashing together. “I saved your life.”

“I would’ve survived with or without your help, darling.”

“You only got this far because our friends helped you!”

“Would you like me to be grateful?” he guffaws, and your chest tightens at how condescending it sounds. “Because must I remind you that you also stole the only chance of me escaping this filthy life where I rot away on the streets and feed on lowly criminals? You’ve forced me to be what I am, and now you think I’m indebted to you?”

Why does he keep saying that? You fight the urge to just punch him.

“I’m not saying you owe me anything, you fool!” your eyes meet his in a blaze of fire. Your heart beats rapidly, and you sincerely hope it’s gone unnoticed. “How many times do I have to tell you that I never forced you to do anything—I was stopping you from becoming like Cazador!”

He’s suddenly looming over you, his gaze sharper than before in a frenzied manner. Just mentioning his old master’s name is enough to push him on the offensive. “I never would’ve become like him…not after what that bastard did to me. I would’ve become stronger and been able to help you. Us. So why in the bloody hells you ever stopped me–”

The words pour out like a mountain of sand held by a twig, and you reach to grab the collar of his shirt. “I didn’t need help! Neither of us did, Astarion. It would’ve been hard, but we would’ve made it out like we always do if we just tried!”

You’re unsure you’ll make it out this time, but does it matter anymore?

His frown creases as if none of your pleas are getting through his thick skull. And while you have half a heart to keep blurting out whatever comes to your mind, his sudden silence and the smallest of steps he takes away from you make you seal your mouth shut. Like he’s closing the door again. Like he’s leaving you all alone again.

Your voice drops, and you bring your hand back to your side.

“You’re not being fair, Astarion.”

“Darling, I’ve followed all your stupid rules and remained on my best behavior till now, even when I could’ve caused more than a few casualties. Hells, I even watched that girl go back to the orphanage alive,” he says, quieter. “I’ve been more than fair.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“What is it, then?”

“It feels like you know everything I’m constantly thinking of, whether it be you or something else,” you mumble. “But you won’t let me know what you’re thinking. I’m not asking you to tell me your deepest secret…I just need to know what I’ve done to deserve the bullshit I have to put up with. I took away the ascension from you; I get that, but is that really it? Is that really why you hate me this much? What’s worse, is that very time it feels like we can finally talk, you just—you tell me that you hate me again and then leave it there to fester even more anger on both sides.”

Astarion stares at you, his expression impossible to read. Horrified but unrelenting of the mountain of unsaid words, you continue. “Just talk to me.”

Why, you want to ask. He knows you only did what you thought was best at the time, so what have you done to deserve such cruelty?

Why do you hate me so much?

He gives you a long, hard look. It was surely only a few split seconds, but it seems like hours as you don’t even dare to breathe, rooted in place as you await his answer. It’s infuriating that you can’t tell what he’s thinking even now. He’s always been far too good at masking his feelings, and while he’d used it against you once, you never thought he’d have to again. And finally, when he moves, he doesn’t move to speak.

He shuts his eyes, and when they open again, he’s grinning. That fake, beautiful grin that brings you so much anguish and conflict simultaneously that it makes the sides of your head pound with the beating of your heart. “Fine, darling. Let’s talk if you want to so badly.”

It's so artificial that it leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

You wish he’d just tell you he hates you again.

He’s blocking you out again. Again and again, no matter how many times you take a step forward, he takes a few back, and the distance between the two of you grows larger. It’s just so exhausting and repetitive. You’re sick of it.

“Why do I hate you? Where should I start?” he hums. “Ah, perhaps when you took it upon yourself to be the one to stab a knife through Cazador’s heart. I’m rather curious myself, darling, how did it feel? Could you feel his screams through your dagger, or were you too occupied watching the life drain from his face? Was it hard to reach his heart? Did he struggle? Oh, do tell, I’d love to know how that bastard suffered.”

The words feel like a knife to your own chest.

“To think that could have been me if I hadn’t seduced you when we met…You could’ve pierced a stake through my heart when you first caught me longing for your blood. Can you believe it? If you’d just killed me then, you wouldn’t be standing here now. You wouldn’t have let me bed you in that dirty forest clearing, and you would have never felt my lips upon yours. I could have chosen anyone else---anyone in the camp---and we wouldn't be standing here, but Gods was it easy to seduce you."

He stops, and his next words make the blood drain from your face.

"Just like the thousand other victims I brought to Cazador. You're no different from them...all you want from me are my weaknesses. You kept me this way to keep me fragile, and pathetic."

Has listening to someone's voice always been so difficult?

“I didn't—”

“But I suppose you’re the victor in another sense, my dear,” he sneers, his face impossibly close to yours, but he’s never felt so far away. “You should count yourself lucky. Few can say they’ve managed to bed me and survive to tell the tale. You even managed to make me fall for you! You, a simple naive bard, managed to seduce me! And Gods, did you put up a glorious show, darling, betraying me like you did. It was an ingenious move on your part, preventing me from reaching my full potential—the hero of Baldur’s Gate wouldn’t want anything tainting their beloved city with blood, after all–”

No, this is all wrong. This does nothing but make things worse. You wish he'd just stop.

In the blink of an eye, Astarion stops speaking. With expecting eyes, his attention flickers to the knife now pointed at his pale throat. You practically gnaw on the inside of your cheek as you inch the knife just a few centimeters from breaking skin. “Shut up.”

Astarion’s glare narrows on your hand. “Enough talking for you?”

You see that whatever man you fell in love with in what feels like another lifetime was a mask. Deep down, you’ve known that the face he wears is nothing but a facade ever since this entire fiasco started and he’d situated himself into your home. Yet, the cruelty still hurts. It hurts how much he detests you with the very same face that once worshipped your very breath. Gods, you’d been so foolish, thinking a damn vampire spawn could feel anything other than hunger….much less love.

He’d likely prefer to eat out your heart than hold it in his cold, dead hands. He’d watch you with those sultry eyes as he sinks his teeth into what remains of your heart and feels nothing but his own thirst being satiated.

So you won’t give him the opportunity. You won’t give him your heart again, even as the sky falls and the ground dissipates.

You’ve done it once, and you’ve never regretted anything more.

“You’re turn, my dear,” he says. “If you wish to say something, feel free to do so.”

He steps closer, and the tip of your blade draws a small bead of blood. He doesn’t seem to care.

Red, red, red. Your vision is growing blurry.

You inhale sharply. Breathe. You can still breathe. Words that had been bottled up inside dissipate the longer you watch him, as you understand that no matter what you say or do, he will remain as he is. While you want to tell yourself it’s because time itself has ceased for him, you know he doesn’t want to change in the first place.

“I should kill once this is over,” you mutter calmly. His blood now falls down the side of your knife. “But I’m not like you. I’m not as pathetic or petty as you are, even though I’ve been through less than you probably have. I don’t attempt murder just because things don’t go my way.”

His smile twitches.

“If you like being alone so much, then I won’t stop you. Once this is all over, I never want to see you again. I don’t care what you do, but I just want you to disappear. I want you gone, forever, in whatever shadows you hide in during the day.”

It only seems like yesterday when you begged the moon to see him one last time.

Even though he’s speaking through his teeth, he nods as you bring your knife back to your side. “I’m glad we have something to agree on.”

You want to laugh, but you fear it’ll come out as cracked.

“And you’re right,” you wipe his blood off the dagger on your sleeve, not bothering to spare him a glance. “I should have let the others behead you when we met.”

If he wants to sabotage the little good left in his life, let him. If he wants to be miserable for the rest of his undying days over what’s already been done, let him. You don’t care anymore.

Amusement drips from his voice. “A shame.”

His finger tilts your chin upward, his thumb rubbing at the side of your cheek. It’s then that you realize there’s a whiff of blood coming from a wound on your skin—a result of the forest, you’d guess. You try to swat him away, but his thumb swipes the droplets of blood to the side of your face, staring down at you with eyes that resemble rubies. You’ve always loved them, describing them as the gems you’ve stumbled across in such dire times, but now all you want to do is look away. They’re too harsh. They’re too cold. They’re too him.

You swallow the lump in your throat as he licks your blood off the pad of his thumb.

“It would’ve been better if one of us died that day.”

He takes his time to respond.

“I know.”

Tags:@ayselluna@littleenglishfangirl@bg3obsessedsideblog@iwillpissyourpants@cyberpr1m3@ukeia-uchiha@snowlotr@road-riot@spacekidnova@madislayyy@lordfishflakes@nicalysm@djarinsway@tinystarfishgalaxy@brainz00@hopeful-n-sad@ohdeerieme@madisban@chrismarium@chonkercatto@fanfic-share@bitterrenegade@sleepyred1703@miskouly@ravenswritingroom@iamlowkeycrying@deezus-roy@spiritraves@mariposakitten@dinobae-replyacc@whisperingwillowxox@bdudette@misscrissfemmefatale@atropapurpurea@cosywinterevenings@phoenixgurl030 @generalstephkenobi @shadowsmusical @himesuedi @girlygmer-blog @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @deezus-roy @hyperfixationwhore @teardropcup @marina-and-the-memes @kiwi-mansanas @woosaaghh @cminr @everybodystaycalm@divineknightmare@bangtanbecks@carolinelec@bitterbeanren @aelieknox @bluelovesleep @catching-fire-in-the-wind @moonlight-stay @thatbeanieboss Please let me know if I didn't add you to the list or if you'd like to be added! I needed to redo the entire taglist because it wasn't functioning, so please let me know if I missed you :)

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 astarion #astarion #bg3 x reader #bg3 #fluff #astarion x oc #baldurs gate 3 x reader

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schrodinger-swriter · 3 months

Note

I saw you were doing a fluff alphabet! Hmmm, how about C, E, I, J, M and F for Vox?

C, E, I, J, M, F for Vox

Another character that I am at the moment to grasp onto, in terms of understanding characteristics and writing them.. but nonetheless I am willing to take a crack at writing him! I hope you enjoy, Anon, and I personally give you permission to smite me if this is too OOC!/lh

CUDDLING:

Cuddling him is... odd... I enjoy the idea that his body constantly has a faint buzz.. though most of the time when he's not experiencing high energy or emotion, it's hardly noticeable. He prefers being the big spoon, oftentimes pulling you close with your back to him. Sometimes the soft vibrations of his body is soothing, so be sure to take any moment you can to initiate a cuddle session!

EMOTION:

Going off of how he reacts when hearing Alastor's return, he can be prone to losing control of himself every now and then. Though, I think that's more so in line with his annoyance and anger rather than all his emotions. He seems like the type to want to come off as.. casual.. in a relationship. He may be devoted to you, but rarely does he drop his walls and allow himself to be completely raw with you. Sometimes he may become irritable when he's been made to examine changing trends so he can best pin point how to promote himself and his tech, though... may become a little snappy.. but in terms of affection.. He wouldn't pour his heart out, but he wouldn't shut you out. Perfectly average in this regard.

FAMILY:

Unfortunately, sinners cannot reproduce so having biological children is out of the question. He doesn't much care for children, anyway. He seems like the type to think about being a father, and idealizing it, but not going through with having the child because of work. It sounds sad when it's put like that, but is it exactly wrong? He's so caught up in maintaining the image of the Vees and keeping his own company afloat that outside of the fantasy here and there, he doesn't want children.

INJURY:

It's here he would exercise his status as an overlord and as one of the Vees, by putting an end to whoever had the nerve to injure you. Actually, if it's public knowledge that you and him are together most sinners would know better than to cross you, especially if they aren't an overlord themselves. When it comes to actually interacting with you, I think he would make sure you receive the very best care that money and power can provide, ensuring your recovery is smooth and swift. He may be a little emotionally distant, but that's only because he's beside himself with rage at the nerve of whoever harmed you.

If he's the one injured I think it would play out similarly. Assuming he doesn't deal with the person himself. Wouldn't play up his pain, or down play it either. He would not want to be babied, and he might try to get back to work as soon as possible. After all, trends are ever changing and fleeting. He can't bare the idea of falling behind and possibly being overtaken by a certain radio demon.

JEALOUSY:

He gets jealous... a lot, and when he does things can get ugly. A lot of times it results in him trying to show off and prove why he's better than the other person, and why he's more worthwhile. His screen tends to bug out and buffer while trying to turn the situation into his favor. With Vox it's best not to 'test' him and make him jealous on purpose, unless you're comfortable with the fact that Vox is going to try to run the other person into the ground. Be it literally or with their reputation. Definitely the type to physically pull you away from someone and take you to his side.

MARRIAGE:

Going off of the above and the Injured segment, I think he would make it clear to everyone in Hell that the two of you are an item. A package deal. A couple. If it means having to put a ring on you to put it through everyone's skulls that you're his and his alone, then he might just consider it. Sees it more as a power move of sorts rather than a commitment, whether that causes it's own set of issues is up to you!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel imagine #vox x reader #vox x you #vox imagine

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delcakoo · 1 year

Note

Imagine riki trying to sleep and you guys are cuddling and you js keep chomping on his neck or face ( like a gentle bite ) and he js has enough and freaking showers you with kisses for a good 10 mins

on a cruise rn so this might suck but ur my second req for niki w a biting s/o so i wanted to offer smtn :,) changed it up a bit but hope u still enjoy bae !! <3

10:07PM — riki ignores the sensation of your plush lips pressing right above his collarbone, allowing you to do as you please before flinching in shock as you bite down absentmindedly. pale fingers tighten against his gaming mouse while his eyes wander down to the top of your head, huffing as you continue working up to the mole-covered skin near his adam’s apple.

he knew you were feeling needy and bored whenever this habit in specific kicked in, and while the biting annoyed him at first — constantly calling you a ‘vampire’ along with other nicknames, he’s grown to accept it and even indulge in the fact that you feel comfortable enough to do this to him and him only.

either way, it could be a bit distracting at time’s like this.

in acknowledgement of your blatant demand for him, he takes the time to crane his neck down and peck your scalp gently, the strings of his black hoodie aimlessly dangling by your face. "this game's almost over, then i'm all yours, jagi. promise.”

despite the nod you offer in reply, riki sighs at the feeling of your lips continuing their journey up his neck, now peppering kisses and nibbling by his jaw. your arms that were once gripping onto the sides of his gaming chair in boredom rise up to wrap around the boy's neck, effectively trapping him in with your affection.

riki finds himself getting hopelessly distracted and endeared by you.

“y/n...” he whines, and at the sound of gunshots being heard along with the clear echo of his game's defeat music, you giggle.

"what?" faking innocence, you finally pull away from riki's neck to send him a teasing smirk.

before you can process anything, long fingers wrap around your waist and pull you over to the grey bed in the middle of the room swiftly, all while riki stares down at you with a lighthearted frown.

"you know exactly what, that was my promotion match too, baby," he complains. as you both get comfortable on the bed, riki flips your body around to spoon you, his chest pressing against your back while the warmth of his embrace engulfs you moments later.

"sorry, you're too tempting," you reply dramatically, eliciting a pleased chuckle from your boyfriend's pretty lips.

though you seemingly ruined a rather important game for him, riki didn't seem any less willing to shower you in the attention you craved through an abundance of kisses — the trail his mouth creates beginning from the skin peeking out of your (his) favourite t-shirt, and all the way up to the soft apple of your cheeks.

when he reaches your ear, he bites down before blowing right into it in his playful, riki way. you yelp of course, jumping away only to be tugged right back in by his annoyingly strong arms. “yah,” you bark, “that tickles!”

he lets out a loud laugh that has a smile tugging onto your own lips. “ay, you deserve it after all that biting,” he refutes through giggles. “now stop moving, jagi. i’m not done with you yet.”

before you can come up with a retort, riki’s lips are already on yours while he does his best to hug you impossibly tighter.

again sorry if this isn’t to ur standards i’m on vacation LMAO 💀 reblogs/comments r appreciated as always, and i’ll try to get an actual fic out instead of these short drabbles once i’m home <\3

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bookshelf-dust · 1 year

Text

fix me up

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 1,425

warnings: swearing, allusions to sex/sexual innuendos, basically billy being a flirty little shit, mentions of back pain, fluff

a/n: hiii!! i came up with this a few days ago and i’ve been in love with it but now i’m feeling a little iffy about it, so i hope someone out there in the void likes it. happy reading! love you!! <33

————

“I think that if I have to lift a squirmy toddler up one more time, I’m just going to fucking die.”

“That seems a little dramatic.”

You’re sat on your knees next to where Billy lays flat on his back, his palms pressed to his eyes. You reach forward and rub your hand over his forehead, fingers smoothing over his hair.

He moves his hands, looking up at you like he always does when you’re sweet with him. He raises his brows for a moment, a little confused, but then he leans into it, allowing himself to enjoy your affection.

His hair is still a little damp from the shower he had when he got home, washing the smell of chlorine from his skin.

You drag your thumb over the slit in his eyebrow, across the circles under his eyes, lingering on the freckles he has. They’re your favorite part of him, you’ve decided.

Billy shifts a little, like he’s uncomfortable, his eyes scrunching closed in pain.

“Something hurtin’ you, baby?”

He grabs for your wrist when you take it away, smacking a kiss to your pulse point.

“My back’s fucking killin’ me.”

You pout for just a second, though he misses it because his eyes are still closed.

It’s a dull ache that travels from his lower back, up his spine, and spreads at his shoulders. He’s sore. And his sides hurt, too. He can practically still feel the little feet kicking the shit out of him as he tried to convince the kids they were not, in fact, going to sink.

Not with floaties on, and not with him there. Not on their backs.

“Want me to rub it for you?”

Billy snorts. “You’d do that?”

You readjust so you’re sitting cross-legged. “I mean, I can’t promise I’ll be any good at it, but I’m willing to try to see if it’ll make you feel better.”

“I have complete faith in you.”

“Liar.”

He grins at you before he’s grabbing your face with both hands to pull you down to his level. He kisses you once; his mouth is warm and he’s a little stubbly, though it’s not like you mind.

When he pulls away, Billy sits up and flips so that he’s laying on his tummy, socked feet up by the pillows.

You go to straddle the backs of his thighs, but he’s sitting up again. “Wait—wait,” he says. He yanks his shirt off over his head and throws it somewhere behind him on the bed.

You roll your eyes. “Show off.”

“Like you don’t want your hands on me.”

You choose this moment to slap him on the ass. He groans and crosses his arms so he can rest his face on them, cheek squishing up so he looks much less menacing than he would’ve hoped.

You settle with your knees on either side of his hips, placing your hands on the skin of his back. He shivers, and you fight a grin.

Billy is so warm. He's like a space heater. It takes seconds for the tips of your fingers to warm up against him. You run your hands over the planes of his back, down the dip in his spine.

“I’m gonna touch you, and I need you to tell me where it hurts, okay?”

Billy hums. Having you on him like this is comforting, he thinks. He likes feeling the weight of you against him, likes your hands running all over him. Even if you do keep skimming his ass because you can’t help yourself.

You rest your palms against his lower back. “Here right?” You lean down and kiss the spot.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Where else?” you ask. You put some lotion on your hands so as to not make him uncomfortable, warming it up before you touch him. He fights the urge to make a joke about you lubing him up.

Your hands slide upwards, over his shoulder blades. “There,” he grumbles.

“That all?”

“My sides.”

You put your hands back against his soft spot, and rub them up and outwards in a sort of sweeping motion. “So, like, this whole spot?”

“Yeah, baby.”

“‘Kay. You’ll tell me if something hurts or if you want it harder, right?”

Billy snorts at the sexual connotation that your words carry. He’s laughing because he’s asked you the same questions before. And he likes that you’re the one asking them now.

“Billy,” you whine.

“You know I will.”

You start with his lower back, pressing your hands firmer than you had been against his skin. You rub in that same motion you’d used before, fingers spreading and trying to push the tension out.

He hasn’t complained yet, so you assume he’s doing fine. Assume you’re doing fine.

You keep doing that, rubbing his back and thinking about how you might do your own, reaching and sort of massaging the area to relieve the pain.

When you look up at him, Billy’s eyes are closed. It’s like he’s sinking into the mattress. It makes you smile.

You move to his shoulders. Your palms dig into the squish of his back, tanned skin and freckles moving under your touch. You push upwards, and hear him sigh.

Billy feels like he could die. Your hands feel so good and his mind is so muddled he’s not even sure he could form a coherent thought. He knows that if he’s like this and you’re only doing his back, he’d just dissolve if you touched anything else.

You start on his back again, remembering that he’d said it was bothering him the most. You use both of your thumbs and start at the very base of his spine, just above the waistband of his underwear, pushing hard.

You’ve only done this once when he moans.

“Ohhh, fuck.”

You stop. You’re giggling at the way he’s melting underneath you and it’s making you heat up in more ways than one.

Billy turns his head to look at you, half asleep, blanket lines on his cheek. “Why’d you quit?” he grumbles.

You grin. “You’re moaning, William.”

He rolls his eyes and face plants back into the comforter on his bed. “Am not.”

You laugh and he reaches back with one hand, blindly swatting at you. He misses but is too sleepy and entranced to do anything but relent, so your thumbs find his back again, pushing in the same motion.

This time Billy let’s put a low sigh, like the tension is being released from his back. You push a little harder, rubbing up a little further. He does it again, brows furrowing. He knows that he moaned for you. He’s trying not to do it again but he’s losing the battle.

“That good, huh?” you tease.

Billy’s eyes fly open and he pushes up onto his elbows. He’s said those exact words to you so many times it’s like he doesn’t even have to think about it anymore.

He’s not sure he wants to admit how much he likes this power you hold over him.

You take your hands off of him and place them over your mouth to keep from laughing. You’re so proud of yourself and Billy swears he feels his heart swell at your antics.

“Do you want me to stop?” you ask. “Clearly I wasn’t hurting you.” You’re laughing again and you lower yourself to rest your forehead against his back. He can feel your breath and your body shaking with giggles.

“Kiss my ass,” he says. He runs a hand down his face.

When you take him up on his offer, planting a kiss on the side of his ass cheek–even if it is on top of the cotton shorts he’s wearing–Billy breaks.

He laughs. It’s a warm and happy sound. He seriously can’t believe you.

The both of you are laughing like children, so loud that Max screams down the hall for you to “shut the hell up,” but that only makes it worse.

“Okay,” you start, trying to catch your breath. “Okay. Holy shit.” Your hand slides back up his back, fingers running up and down his spine, giving him goosebumps. “You feel any better? Or you want me to keep going?”

Billy flops back down into the mattress. “Please don’t stop. Need you to fix me up.”

You adjust yourself so that you’re sitting directly against the curve of his ass this time. You lean down to whisper into his ear, hands massaging at his sides.

“I think I can fix you up just fine, baby.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x gn!reader #billy hargrove x gender neutral reader #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy stranger things #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove comfort #billy hargrove imagines #billy hargrove oneshot #billy hargrove imagine #billy stranger things fic #max mayfield #savannah’s fics

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