#key crest

[ciryze]

I made a thing. Blame @mannatea :)

I do have a lot of things to say about one of my favorite hyperfixating topics that is not Raine which is Expheres because they are exellent worldbuilding and stuff.

If you are ever interestend in my other ToS AU/theory/worldbuilding stuff, feel free to check out this drive folder of mine too. It involves my planned Emperor Kratos AU as well as A SHITTON of Raine-headcanons. And a synopsis of The Broken Ones :)

I love doing stuff like this, so if you ever need to scream at someone about theories, make sure to ring me up either here on tumblr or hit me up at my discord (which is also @ciryze)

#tales of symphonia #meta #expheres #cruxis crystals #key crest #I got it all #also lowkey related to Raine anyways #I do have a TON of AU specific stuff for this kind of things too #like how elves and halfelves mutate differently from humans

[no-thanks-bro]

Can someone please help me with re1 remake?? I'm so fucking lost 😭 I've cleared every room and tried every door and I can't figure out how to progress for the life of me

#I can't get into the helmet rooms because I don't have the key #but I also can't find the yellow gem #or get into the room with the 'spencer crest' on the door #or figure out how the weird little terrace indent puzzle works #only have one umbrella octagon #I can't figure out how to turn the elevator power on #I'm stuck!!!! please i'm begging

[lutiaslayton]

Professor Layton and the Eternal Diva

ＰＡＲＴ　１５

〚ＦＩＲＳＴ〛〚ＰＲＥＶ〛〚ＮＥＸＴ〛

Disclaimer: This is a fan-translation for the Japan-exclusive novellisation of the movie Professor Layton and the Eternal Diva. The original novel was written by Aya Matsui under the supervision of Akihiro Hino, and belongs to Level-5.

This translation only aims to be a pleasant read for non-Japanese fans, nothing more: I made a few deliberate changes while translating in order to get the writing style closer to what is usually found in English fanfictions, as the Japanese storytelling can sometimes be different than what we are used to.

☆ Melina Whistler

Yes…

I could remember it clearly.

The unparalleled sense of fear, of entrapment and desolation, when I was sent into the body of someone else…

I looked for a place to hide, but there was nowhere to.

Everything was cold… I could hardly breathe.

I couldn’t stay here! Please, someone let me out!

I screamed desperately, but no one could hear me.

I kept pleading to someone I couldn’t see.

Please, I don’t want to stay here either. But I can’t leave. I have to stay here…

“Melina—Is that you, Melina?”

I had heard a familiar voice.

I could hear… or rather, I could feel it.

I couldn’t see her, but I knew that Janice was close by.

“Janice…?”

“Melina! This is incredible. I can’t believe you are so close to me…”

“I’m sorry, Janice! I shouldn’t be here. I’ll disappear right now… Somehow, I’ll find a way to do that!”

“No, you can’t!”

“Janice!?”

“I’ve just found you again… Do you realise how much I missed you? How much I missed my best friend while you were gone…”

“But, Janice…”

“It’s okay, Melina… I can’t let you go on like this.”

Suddenly, I had felt something shifting.

The sense of fear and desolation disappeared…

“Janice!”

Her voice was moving away.

“This isn’t just for you. This is also for me. Melina, you may not understand, but the grief and suffering of those left behind is so strong…”

I know, Janice…

I had felt Papa’s grief and pain even after I had lost my body…

“You have to understand, Melina. Losing my best friend not once, but twice, would surely break my heart…”

Before I knew it, I was slowly becoming familiar with Janice’s body, as if guided by the waves of the sea.

I had been spoiled by her heartfelt friendship…

At that moment…

The sound of slow clapping brought me back to reality.

It was Descole. The man who had used Papa’s love for me to draw him into his evil ways…

“Excellent. I did not realise that the memory copying had been successful… So congratulations, Whistler, you’ve achieved your goal.”

It was no wonder that you hadn’t noticed, Descole. Someone like you would never understand Janice’s kindness, or the nobility of sacrificing oneself in order to keep others alive.

“Oh, oh my God…”

Poor Papa… He was completely confused.

I looked straight into his eyes. Papa… I needed him to understand my feelings.

“At some point, I started to realise that this was wrong. I can’t live my life at the expense of my friend.”

I told him my honest thoughts.

“It was you who wrote to me, wasn’t it?”

Professor Layton…

I… No, we both wrote that letter. Janice’s voice had become inaudible to me, but our hearts were still communicating.

“It was the right choice to choose you, Professor. I thought you would be able to stop Papa… Just like I wanted him to stop.”

Isn’t that right, Janice?

It was just as you told me before.

“There is no puzzle that Professor Layton can’t solve, Melina.”

“I can’t stay in her body forever… But as long as this device exists, Papa will continue to copy my memories.”

“Melina…”

Papa’s eyes… They were looking at me, not at Janice.

“I had heard a lot about the Professor from Janice. She admired you so much…”

I’m sorry, Janice… I said it.

As soon as you gave me your life, I had realised how much the professor meant to you…

When I first met him on the Crown Petone, I made my most cherished memories. The times when he solved puzzles… That time when we were talking on the beach… That time when we were riding that makeshift helicopter that we had built… I was never alone.

Papa’s voice was trembling.

“Melina, I… This was all for you…”

“Thank you, Papa… I appreciate how you feel. But, please… These horrendous things have to stop now.”

“I just couldn’t accept a life without my beloved daughter… So I…”

At that moment— The whole room was struck by a tremendous quake.

“Professor, the ceiling!”

With a roar, the ceiling above us was split in two, as we all stood under it in stunned shock.

Then Descole took my arm.

“Melina!”

In a flash, Descole ran up the stairs leading to the Detragan and set me down.

A pack of wolves popped out and surrounded everyone. They all let out a terrifying howl then stood menacingly, ready to pounce on anyone at any moment.

“What are you doing, Descole!?”

“I needed Melina’s memories to achieve my true goal,” he replied coldly, standing right next to me.

“Your true goal…?” Papa asked in confusion.

I was with him on this one… I had no idea what this was about either. What could he possibly need my memories for? What could that mean?

Descole twirled his cloak and pointed to the ceiling.

“The resurrection of Ambrosia!”

The ceiling was painted with the Ambrosian crest… The Kingdom of Immortality.

“It all started when I discovered their coat of arms in its entirety…”

Descole turned to the professor and sent him a condescending look.

“Layton, what do you think these symbols mean?”

The coat of arms had a design reminiscent of a king and queen, surrounded by a vast number of lines, dots and jagged patterns…

The professor soon gasped in realisation. “…It’s a music sheet!”

“Correct. A music sheet, written in the Ambrosian way.”

Descole walked over to the Detragan and reached for a sheet music.

“In other words, the coat of arms is inscribed with the first key required to open the door to Ambrosia: a song that could be called ‘A Song of the Stars.’”

“A ‘Song of the Stars’…!?” Luke repeated incredulously.

“The second key is you, Melina.”

I could not believe my ears. “Me… the second key?”

The resurrection of Ambrosia, keys to open a door… I did not understand.

“The first key alone was not enough to revive Ambrosia. This was when I realised that the crest also hinted at the existence of a second key…”

The professor instantly resonated. “The ‘Song of the Sea’!”

Descole slowly took my hand with an icy smile. His grip was just as cold as his face.

“The stars, and the sea. When the two melodies are combined, Ambrosia will be revived.”

“I didn’t realise… that he was after the kingdom itself,” Papa slowly shook his head in shame.

“Alas, by the time the puzzle of the crest had been solved… The only person who had an accurate memory of the second key could no longer sing…”

So that was what this was all about.

The ‘Song of the Sea’… It was the song that the sea around Ambrosia had taught me.

Ever since we had moved to this island so I could recuperate from my illness, I had spent every day gazing out at it. Walking along the beach, or standing on my balcony, with the feeling of the sea breeze embracing me…

It wasn’t long before I had become aware of the melody that the sea was bringing me.

The wind, blowing past the reefs jutting out from the shore, would sing the same song to me every day. The waves breaking onto the shore would add to the music, creating a pleasant harmony, like a small ensemble.

Soon, I had unconsciously began to hum that very beautiful and somewhat nostalgic melody. When the sea and the song were joined together, it had given me a sense of heartfelt sincerity. It was soothing… and it made me happy, as I felt surrounded by a shower of invisible music.

Descole put his hand on one of the Detragan’s levers.

“Even though some memories were left behind… I wanted a perfect copy, more than Whistler did!”

He pulled the lever. Immediately after, the staircase exploded and bright lights flashed on the wall.

The smoke from the explosion blocked my view.

　⇚　　　　　　　⇛

#professor layton #layton's book club #melina whistler #janice quatlane #oswald whistler #jean descole #hershel layton #eternal diva #eternal diva novel #translation #professor layton and the eternal diva #ayo this part was so WILD #This is why I'm transcribing this stuff. Japanese version cleared up SO many questions that the localisations brushed off. #like how the English & French dubs make it sound like all three songs were written on the Ambrosian seal #while in fact the original version explains that only the song of the stars (+ sun) + a drawing of the sea (+ sun) are there. #So basically it seems like we can deduce here a full timeline of how things went! #Step 1: Des steps foot on Ambrosia and discovers the first known instance of the complete crest. #Step 2: He figures out the Song of the Stars from the music sheet on the crest #and likely deduces that it's the key to reviving Ambrosia. #Step 3: He plays the song of the stars and it doesn't work. He looks at the crest again and sees the drawing of the sea. #He deduces that there is another key related to the sea. Somehow he figures out that there is only one person in the world who knows it. #(I have a hypothesis about the why and how but I'll leave that for later since this hypothesis lacks solid evidence.) #Step 4: Des figures out (somehow) that this “one person in the whole world” is Melina. #Step 5: Melina is sick so he uses that as an excuse to have the Whistlers move to Ambrosia and live inside the black castle he built. #His excuse for bringing them there is that the ocean breeze will do some good to her health. #Step 6: Melina is healthy enough to walk on the shore a few times and she notices that the sea sings to her. She learns the song of the sea #Unfortunately she is already too sick to sing it properly so Descole can't use her. And soon after that she dies. #Step 7: Des and Whistler had been prepared for that eventuality and copied her memories with the Detragan. So they just need a host for her #Des only was able to get his hands on the song of the sea when Melina learned it. And she never wrote it down before dying. #See the music sheet that Layton plays to Nina? It's the song of the sea. Sure. But it's incomplete. It only has the first half.

[prolibytherium]

People who won't listen to songs longer than like 4 minutes disturb me. Who think something as short as 6 minutes is excessively long. You would die in fright at some of the music I listen to on a daily basis

#I get not being in the MOOD to listen to songs cresting certain lengths but just not wanting to hear it at all? Haunting. #When I'm giving rides to people I'm not really close to I tend to pick out a single long song that is fairly inoffensive and #will last the entire drive and one of my key picks is 'The Low Spark Of High Heeled Boys' (good song) (11 minutes) #And one time an acquaintance was like 'does this song ever end' and I'nm just like. Okay jsut for that I'm gonna start circling #(Ok I actually do understand 11 minutes feeling excessive but. It's my car)

[randomnameless]

Thinking about Supreme Bullshit and how convoluted was Supreme Leader's reason for declaring War on the CoS, by appointing Grégoire as a sham and puppet Bishop no one gives a fig about -

I was thinking at first more in lines of Supreme Leader herself, claiming - as House Hresvelg does - lineage from Saint Seiros herself (she knows it's a lie!!!!! but that beast made up that lie and stupid people believe it!) - so Supreme Leader claims higher "authority" on the Church than "Rhea", the Archbishop, and wants her seat to unify Adrestia and the Central Church under one banner.

If the Archbishop refuses, then Supreme Leader, claiming descent from the Goddess (iirc in one prayer it is mentionned Seiros is one of the Goddess's children!) herself is denied authority over Her Church, and has a (completely made up) legitimate claim and reason to get rid of the CoS, without needing to pretend Varley is a the new Southern Bishop.

But then I thought about something else...

Still using the lie that House Hresvelg descends from Seiros herself...

What if Supreme Leader, now besties with the CoS who helped her get rid of evil people who manipulated Adrestia (at least that's the official version) makes an official statement about wanting to claim Saint Seiros's remains, to put them in, idk, the Imperial mausoleum with all former Emperors and important people to Adrestia - under the guise of Seiros being one of the founders of Adrestia (as she supported Willy?) and the (supposed!!!) matriarch of the Imperial line?

Of course, the CoS can't "return" Seiros's remains to Adrestia, and thus a new casus belli is born.

Granted, in those two situations, it puts Supreme Leader in a difficult position - because if the CoS/Rhea/Seiros are outed as inhuman creatures who should not rule over the people, if Supreme Leader pushes her claim that she descends from those creatures, then maybe someone will tell her she's part beast, thus should not rule over the people too?

(she still could have Hubert silence any opposition, but at this point, why needing to make plans and create a real cause of war, if Hubert can do his thing on his own?).

#fodlan nonsense #adrestia stuff #i still find it hilarious how #Supreme Leader's family is supposed to descend from Jesus and no one ever says a thing about this in her war against the Church #TFW Rhea's Willy favoritism has much more consequences in the long term #like she managed to kept neutral information about the Elites and their crests and the 4 saint's crests #but Willy was a special case and what was done at first without any ill intent to celebrate her friendship #becomes the key to her downfall #it'd be even more depressing though... #FE16 #3 Nopes #sort of #but those situation would only work if Supreme Leader can accept lying about her being a non-human #given her mindset in FE16 about Nabateans I'd say that's the main issue against those plans

[nextposition1]

#door #key #crest #france

[freakinflipflop]

Yeah this is a to the surprise of nobody moment

#wow! hyperfixation family crest??? who could have seen THAT coming????? #was very interesting looking at the peak listening time info #family crest and oh hellos peaked during concussion #joseph had a smaller ongoing peak after i discovered them and then the main peak was once classes started #black keys peaked during peak homesickness time and then dropped off as soon as i was back home #but then started up again when i was djing for family #cake peaked bc of family djing #interesting statistics!

[southwestcollectionarchives]

It’s…Artifact Friday! The crest on a ceremonial key given to Texas Governor Coke Stevenson by Mexican diplomats.

#key #crest #mexico #texas #artifact

[sskklvr]

I'm in the process of making a list of ships/characters I associate with Family Crest songs and I got to Before Your Father Hears Us and North and remembered how much they fit with Shigadabi and Chronohaul [respectively] in the Something Corporate series by Plastic_crowns on Ao3 so now I am going absolutely crazy

#i talk about this fic so much bc ive obsessed over it for years and im terrified that one day the author will find out and block me over it #“but key thats irrational-” BUT WHAT IF. #bnha #mha #chronohaul #shigadabi #the family crest #music #the family crest band

[spicydonutz]

Hehe

#kemono friends #crested ibis #shitpost #minecraft #*extremely off key* creepER Aw mAn

[cake-writes]

Just This Once

Pairing: Kakashi x Female!Reader

Warnings: smut, breeding kink, he gets lost in the sauce frfr, situationship… ish?, this man wants to RUN, disorganised attachment style (primarily avoidant), penis in vagina sex, teasing, edging (accidental), unprotected sex, creampie

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: Kakashi discovers that he has a breeding kink. It's kind of a spiritual experience.

Inspired by @rookie98writes's fic Leave It On

—

Kakashi isn’t used to the strange sort of domesticity that comes with being in a... whatever this is. It’s not quite a relationship. A situationship, maybe. He’d say it’s something more than friends-with-benefits, but the two of you aren’t really friends, either.  

You come together every now and then. That’s all. Like two passing ships in the night. 

So why is he standing in front of your stove, cooking dinner while you sort through the pile of unopened mail on your kitchen table? Why did he offer to water your plants while you were away? Why does he want to do anything for you? 

Kakashi knows what it’s like trying to play catch-up after some time away from home—two months, in your case. He’d knocked on your door a few minutes ago with the intention of returning your key, and he must have caught you right after you got back from the store if the two bags of groceries on your kitchen counter were any indication. 

You looked so dead on your feet that Kakashi took over from there, unprompted. But now, as he stirs the pot of flavourful soup simmering away on the stove, his mind sees fit to wander.  

What the hell is he doing?  

He’s getting too attached. That’s what he’s doing.  

It’s that time again—time to cut and run, just as he always does when things start to become complicated. Kakashi makes a habit of ending any potential connection before it can even start, because he can’t afford to lose anyone else. He can’t get hurt if he never lets anyone in. It’s easier that way. 

“I need to schedule my injection,” you mutter to yourself as you read through one letter. Then you sigh and toss it back down onto the table, before you lean back in your chair and rub your tired eyes. “We should probably get used to using condoms again until I can book an appointment.” 

Your birth control must be overdue, then.  

“Sure,” Kakashi answers, feigning unbothered. The two of you used condoms in the beginning, but after a particularly gruesome mission that nearly saw him home in a box, Kakashi stopped reaching for the bedside drawer, and you stopped asking him to.  

He should have known then that he was getting too attached. 

Still, it’s your body. Whatever you want. He’ll end things in the morning either way. 

As Kakashi samples a bit of the soup he’s minding on the stove, pausing for a moment to add a bit more salt, it suddenly sinks in – really sinks in – what could happen if the two of you aren’t careful.  

He could get you pregnant. 

A jolt of arousal shoots through him.

Kakashi doesn’t want children, not now, not ever, which is why it doesn’t make a lick of sense that such a thing would turn him on. He likes the idea of his seed taking root inside of you. He might even enjoy it, the imagery his mind conjures—you bent over for him, begging him to give you a baby, your pretty yukata hiked up around your waist…  

His clan crest embroidered on the back of it.  

Kakashi swears. Loudly.

You startle, looking over at him in alarm. “What happened? Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he lies. Then he proceeds to play it off like he burned himself, but he isn’t fine. No, that single thought, that single fantasy, scares the complete and utter shit out of him—but it turns him on even more, and that’s so much worse.  

He’s already too attached. Way too fucking attached. 

—

Kakashi doesn’t do feelings. He has them, of course, much like any other person, but he doesn’t let them show very often, and he certainly doesn’t talk about them. He won’t say in so many words that he cares; instead, he shows you through his actions alone. 

His knees brush the underside of your thighs as he settles between your legs, bracing himself with one hand beside your head.  

What a vision you make, spread out for him like this.  

Your lamp had blown when you went to turn it on, leaving the streetlights to illuminate your features in a sickly hue of yellow-green. It isn’t romantic in the least, but he can’t help thinking that you’ve never looked more beautiful than in this moment—maybe because it’s the last time he’ll ever get to see you like this.  

The sight of you, so needy and wanting, fills his chest with something bittersweet.  

The tomoe of his sharingan spins lazily as he memorises the curves of your body, the muss of your hair, the rise and fall of your chest as you work to recover from your first orgasm of the night. His fingers are still tacky with your essence, and he smears the residual wetness over the head of his cock to make the entry a little easier. 

“You should wear a condom,” comes your breathy whisper, but you make no move to stop him. Your eyes almost seem to glow as you peer up at him in the dark, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. 

“Mm. Do you want me to?” 

His question hangs heavy in the air.  

The only things Kakashi can hear are your soft breaths and the sound of his own steady heartbeat, which quickens with every silent second that passes.  

You want to say no, he realises.  

He wants you to say no. 

“I like it better without,” you answer quietly, and the implication isn’t lost on him. Not when you look up at him with those big doe eyes, like you don’t know the risk. 

Because there is a risk, and he knows it. Kakashi hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it all night—wicked thoughts, terrible thoughts—thoughts of filling your fertile womb with his seed, thoughts of watching your belly grow round with his child, thoughts of seeing his clan sigil stamped between your shoulder blades like a mark of ownership. 

His.  

Against his better judgement, Kakashi does exactly what he shouldn’t do.  

He agrees.

“Just this once.”  

Just like he says every other time—except every other time, there hasn't been a risk.

Your coy little smile is what prompts him to lower down onto an arm and settle more of his weight on you. Kakashi dips his head to kiss you indulgently, savouring the taste of you, the feel of you beneath him. He kisses you like he hopes to convey just how much he missed you while you were gone, like you might be able to taste the unspoken words that linger in his mouth. 

He kisses you like he means it—and he does. That’s why he needs to go. 

As his tongue twines with yours, Kakashi fills you in a slow, beautiful glide that wrenches a whimper from your throat. 

He knows he should go easy on you, but he relishes in the rapid flutter of your walls as you struggle to adjust to him after so much time apart. A surge of masculine pride washes over him, tinged with a hint of guilt for stretching you open like this. He isn’t exactly small, after all, but you take him so well. 

To ease any potential discomfort, he smooths his hand up the soft skin of your thigh in a soothing caress, before he trails gentle, placating kisses along your jawline. “Is this okay?” Kakashi asks, voice low, only to be rewarded with a particularly strong contraction that makes his toes curl. 

“More than okay,” you sigh. 

As a test, he shifts his hips. When Kakashi hears your breath hitch, he knows that you can handle more.  

He starts slow, rocking into you sensually, but he already knows that he isn’t going to last. It’s been just as long for him, and you’re tighter than you’ve ever been.  

“God, Kakashi, you feel so good.”  

So do you. Kakashi sucks a bruise on your neck in response, if only to muffle the sound of his own pleasure when your perfect cunt clenches around him again.  

He needs to pace himself, or he’ll finish too soon—but then you ask him for more, and what else can he do but oblige you?

He speeds up, not overly so, just enough that both of you can hear the slick, sloppy sounds of your lovemaking. The smell of your arousal permeates the air, and he’s tempted to have another taste. 

Later. 

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs into your ear. “Did you miss me that much?” 

Maybe he’s reassurance-seeking – just a little – but your answering whine tells him what he already knows. 

He’ll miss this. He’ll miss you. That’s why he needs to go. 

“Stay with me,” you rasp. You’ve always been good at noticing when he’s stuck in his head, but right now, Kakashi can’t help but wonder if you’ve just read his thoughts. You see through him so easily. It’s one of the things he likes about you. 

“Sorry,” he says with genuine apology, leaning in to capture your lips again. You let out a pleased hum into his mouth and lift your thighs up a little higher—an offering, one he’s more than happy to accept, even if he doesn’t plan to reciprocate.  

It’s selfish, he knows. 

The new angle does something to him, or maybe it’s because he's well aware that it would be even easier to fill you up this way. He reaches deeper like this, and the tilt of your hips would perfectly hold his cum in place, increasing the chances that it’ll take. 

He wants it to take. 

Kakashi exhales a long, shaky breath. He shouldn’t want that as much as he does. He shouldn’t want it at all.  

“Close?”  

Yes, but he’s not going to tell you that. Kakashi pulls back to look at you, only to find you gazing up at him like he’s hung the moon. It makes his heart ache.  

He stamps it down. 

“I could be,” he teases lightly—a non-answer. “Are you?” 

When you open your mouth to respond, however, he snaps his hips forward suddenly to make you trip over your words. “I— shit,” you swear, and his eyes shine with silent laughter. Your own narrow playfully as you add, “I could be too, if you keep that up.”  

“Really?” 

To pick on you a little, Kakashi withdraws from your tight heat more slowly than he has all night, agonisingly slowly, until only the head of him remains inside; and then he lingers there, purposely, until the stirrings of impatience start to take you over.  

It’s cute, the frown you give him, the pout he sees beginning to form.  

“Don’t be mean,” you tell him sulkily. 

His lips tug up at the corners, revealing a hint of prominent canine. “Maa, I didn’t realise you were in a rush,” Kakashi drawls. “And here I wanted to take my time with you.”  

Before you can read too much into what he’s just said, he slams home. Hard.

Your startled gasp brings on a flicker of self-satisfaction deep within. Kakashi relishes in the knowledge that only he can make you feel like this—especially when he starts to fuck you in earnest, prompting you to fling your arms around his shoulders.  

“F-Fuck, Kakashi, oh my god—” 

“That’s it,” he encourages gently. “Hold onto me.” He likes the closeness of it, the intimacy.

You cling to him like your life depends on it, which brings about a funny feeling in his chest that he can’t quite shake—something warm and gooey and affectionate.  

Kakashi stamps that down, too, and traces the line of your neck with his tongue, kissing and sucking at your sensitive skin until you shiver. Seeing your throat so littered with love bites unearths something within him, something primal, that he’s always refused to name.

He likes seeing the marks he’s left on you. He wants them to mean something. He wants them to mean that you’re his. 

He’s too attached.  

To distract himself from what he intends to do in the morning, Kakashi picks up the pace, flesh smacking against flesh as he snaps his hips into yours, fast and rough, exactly how you want it.  

It doesn’t last long. He’s too worked up.  

Kakashi knows he’ll come before you do if he continues like this, but when he tries to slow down, you dig your heels insistently into his ass. 

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop, please—” 

“I’ll have to pull out soon,” he says raggedly, even though the thought of finishing in you already has him ready to blow.

When Kakashi feels you lock your ankles behind him, he nearly does.  

“Come inside me,” you whine, your breath fanning hot over the shell of his ear.  

His thoughts screech to a halt. You want him to come inside you, knock you up— 

“Fuck,” he curses, stopping abruptly, buried all the way to the hilt. His cock throbs wildly, desperate for release, forcing him to tightly grip the the sheets above your head in order to stave it off. 

If he moves right now, he’s done for.  

When you make a quiet, frustrated sound deep in your throat and wiggle your hips, Kakashi barely manages to hang on. He can feel that tell-tale flutter inside of you, the one that indicates exactly how close you are, but he’s closer. His breaths come out in short, sharp pants as he tries to hold himself together.  

You finish first. Always. 

“Don’t be mean,” you say again, but you sound a little more petulant this time.  

Kakashi lets out an exhausted sort of laugh and presses a wet smack of a kiss just beneath your ear, making you giggle. “You like it when I’m mean.”  

“I like it when you’re nice,” you clap back, voice breathy. 

Kakashi hums knowingly. “All right. I can be nice.”  

Then he pulls back just enough to pepper your face with kisses, and you squeal in delight, though it soon tapers off into a moan when he starts to trail them down your throat, each one more sensual than the last. He palms one of your breasts, gently squeezing, tweaking a nipple— 

“Come on,” you whine, digging your heels into his ass a second time. 

He laughs softly at that. No more teasing. You want him to be nice.

You inhale sharply when Kakashi picks back up where he left off, this time with quick, shallow thrusts that target your g-spot. He smooths his hand down your side, savouring the softness of your skin, then he slides it in between your bodies to rub your clit in just the way you like—the way he remembers you like, because he’s too fucking attached. And sure enough, when your hips buck from the added sensation, he knows that it’s working for you. 

“If you—If you edge me again, I swear to god—” 

Upon hearing the indignation in your voice, Kakashi laughs softly. “I won’t.” 

Then he remembers that he won’t have a chance to edge you again. Not after tonight. 

His jaw tenses at the reminder. 

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you gasp, holding onto him, needing him, which pulls him right back into the present. “Come with me. Please?” 

Kakashi bites back a groan and slides in deeper, readying to do what his body craves. 

No. He can’t come with you. He’d have to finish inside in order for that to happen. 

And just like that, he’s back to teetering on the edge. The filth his mind conjures nearly proves to be his undoing—a vivid image of your tight, wet cunt wringing out every drop of his cum until it takes, tying you to him, making you need him. Making you his. The threat of it simmers under his skin, but it’s starting to feel more like a guarantee. 

Get her there, then pull out. 

Kakashi repeats those words in his head like a mantra, over and over, like it’ll ensure that he lasts, and it works—at least until you start to move your hips in time with his thrusts. You meet him at the perfect angle, sucking him deep on every stroke, allowing him to slide just beyond your cervix and into that spot that sends your voice into a fever pitch. 

A choked sob escapes you as you rake your nails down his back, leaving red lines in your wake. The sting of it only sends him higher, and he sinks his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder to prevent himself from blowing too soon. 

“Right there, Kakashi, right fucking there—” 

Right there, so deep within you that if he came right now— 

He groans when he imagines what would happen, and it all ends with his baby in your belly and his family crest on your back. It shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does, yet he fucks into you with purpose, now—hard, deep, powerful thrusts that knock your headboard into the wall. 

Kakashi knows exactly what that purpose is. The primal part of his brain won’t let him forget it. 

“Yes, just like that, fuck me, make me fucking yours—” 

He kisses you to shut you up, because if he hears another syllable, he’s sure to fill you to the brim. It’s not a gentle kiss, not now. He holds your head in place with a firm grip on your jaw, shoves his tongue into your mouth to assert his control, and still, he recites his mantra. 

Get her there, then pull out.  

Get her there, then pull out.  

Get her there, then—  

You jerk your head away to gulp in a breath of fresh air, chest heaving from exertion, and Kakashi’s eyes sweep over your face for any sign of discomfort. What he finds is the opposite, and he drinks in the pleasured scrunch of your brows, the hazy flutter of your eyelids, the kiss-swollen state of your lips. 

Seeing your muscles tense and strain as you struggle to keep your eyes on his is one of the most intimate things he’s ever experienced.  

“Come inside me,” you beg, and he can hear the desperation there, see it written all over your pretty face. “I need it, I fucking need it, Kakashi, give me your cum—” 

“I’ll give it to you,” he chokes out. Anything for you. Anything you want. 

The way your fingers wrench into his hair belies a hunger that matches his own, and you drag him down for another kiss, messy and insistent, demanding that he make good on his promise to pump you full. He can feel the ripple of your inner walls as you come undone, feel the painfully tight squeeze of your legs around his waist, holding him there, ensuring that he stays; and never in his life has he felt so overwhelmed.  

He can’t pull out. Not now. Not when you’re so willing to milk him dry. 

Kakashi kisses you with everything that he is as he shoves himself impossibly deep inside of you, acting solely on instinct to drown your cervix in hot, sticky spend. He lets out a sound of pure male satisfaction that you eagerly swallow down, your tongue massaging his in tune with every erratic jerk of his hips as he empties himself inside of you, painting your insides white, marking you as his.  

It feels good. It feels right. 

He’s too attached. 

He doesn’t care. 

As he comes down from his high, all Kakashi can think about is how fucking risky it is, what he’s just done, which only ruins him more when the post-orgasm clarity finally hits. 

Why the hell did he do that?  

What the hell did he do?

Your thighs tremble and shake, a sign that he’s done his job well, though he feels no pride in it—just a growing sense of panic.  

He needs to go. He needs to go right now. Not tomorrow. Now. He needs to get the hell out of here and never look back, right fucking now.  

Then he hears your quiet sob, and his heart leaps into his throat. Kakashi jerks his head down to look at you, and when he sees the tears rolling down your cheeks, he actually does panic.  

“Did I— Shit,” he quickly pulls out to check on you, more attentive than he’s ever been, “Did I hurt you?” 

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s accidentally hurt a woman during sex, but he really should have taken it easier on you. He probably went too deep and hit your cervix a little too hard. That’s what usually tends to happen. 

“No,” you sniffle. “I’m fine. I just... I really missed you.” 

Fuck. Don’t say that. You’ll make him want to stay.  

His eyes soften as they trail over your features – the colour of your irises, the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips – and he gently smooths your tears away with the backs of his fingers. “I didn’t hurt you?” 

You shake your head and offer him a watery smile. “I also came really, really hard,” you add matter-of-factly, and he huffs out a relieved laugh. It’s hormonal, then. “They’re happy tears, Kakashi. Calm down.” 

Teasing or not, someone telling him of all people to calm down is an otherworldly experience. The phrase lands strangely, and for the first time since he came to see you tonight, his thoughts quiet down to a dull background murmur. 

They’re happy tears, you said. 

You’re happy with him. 

He’s happy with you, too. He doesn’t want to go.  

You frown, then, and lean up onto your elbows to look at him more closely. “What’s wrong?”  

Kakashi can’t be sure what you see in his expression to warrant that sort of question, but the fight finally leaves him. He sits back on his heels and drags a hand down his face, feeling defeated for a reason he can’t explain.  

“I was just...” Happy, for a moment. Happy to be with you. “Worried,” he finishes lamely. He can’t look at you, not when he feels the heat of a blush creeping up his neck. 

You laugh and turn him back towards you, gently cupping the side of his face. “Okay. Well, I’m fine,” you pat his cheek in playful reprimand, “but I am leaking all over my clean sheets, and it’s your fault, so...”  

That draws his attention. When Kakashi sees the creamy mess spilling out of you, his flaccid cock twitches with interest even after he remembers why his stomach is in knots.  

“We shouldn’t have done that,” he says hoarsely, transfixed by the sight. 

He wants to do it again.  

He shouldn’t want to do it again. He feels fucking crazy for having done it once already, when the two of you aren’t even in a relationship, let alone in any way prepared for a child. But again? A second time? He’d have to be certifiably insane. 

“It’s fine,” you reassure him, and Kakashi wonders how the hell you can possibly be taking it so in stride. He came a lot. There’s so much of it dripping out onto the sheets that it’s starting to create a small puddle under your ass, and there’s even more inside of you—a lot more, judging by how hard he came. 

It might take. It might seriously take, and you think it’s fine? 

“You’re doing it again,” you tell him, and his eyes snap back up to yours. He’s in his head again, you mean. Then you chew your lip for a moment, hesitation evident, before you ask carefully, “You’ve been acting a little… off tonight. Is everything okay?”  

Every single one of his instincts is telling him to run. That’s where this conversation always leads, but he’s not ready for it. Not yet. Maybe not ever. 

He swallows thickly. “I’m fine.” 

When you frown at him, skeptical, Kakashi shifts uncomfortably under your gaze.  

“Okay. I won’t pry. But, um, I’m here. You know. If you ever need to talk.” You say it a little awkwardly, like you aren’t sure if he’d be offended by the suggestion, and the worried crease between your brows only grows at whatever you see in his expression. “Or... Or not.” 

You laugh nervously, then, and shift away from him, only to wrinkle your nose when more of his cum oozes out of you.  

It’s cute. You’re cute. 

“You said it’s fine. Why?” The question leaves him before he even thinks it through, but it’s too late, now.  

“What?” 

This wasn’t the first time he’s come inside of you, not by a long shot, but it’s certainly the riskiest. “I finished inside. Why aren’t you more upset?” 

“What do you mean? You finish inside me all the—” Then you stop, and your brows shoot straight up onto your forehead. “Wait, is this because of my birth control?”  

“Well, it’s overdue, isn’t it?”  

You stare at him for a prolonged moment, and he can almost see the gears turning in your head. Then your nostrils flare. “Are you kidding me? You thought my birth control was overdue, and you still—” Scandalised, you slap him on the arm. “Kakashi!” 

Oh. Well. It must not be overdue yet, then. 

Of course you wouldn’t let him come inside if there was a chance that you might conceive. He’s a fucking idiot. 

“That’s so bad! What if you actually got me pregnant?” 

A lick of heat shoots up his spine upon hearing you give voice to what’s been on his mind all night. Kakashi stares at you, wide eyed, and blushes all the way to the tips of his ears.  

You study his face for a moment, before you purse your lips, looking a little troubled. Or pissed off. He can’t really tell. “I mean... Did you want to get me pregnant?” 

“No,” he rushes to say, his cheeks burning hot because yes, he did, but not for real.  “No. Not at all. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, and...”  

How the hell is he supposed to explain himself? Neither of you are exactly vanilla, you’ve explored a number of kinks together, but this is something else entirely. Then again, a breeding kink would make the most sense out of any, considering it stems from a biological urge to procreate. 

But would you even believe him if he said he only gets off to the fantasy of it, and not the reality? Because if a woman ever said that to him, he’d run away as fast as he could. 

A sly smile tugs at your lips, then, a knowing smile, and Kakashi quickly averts his eyes to the window, embarrassed. 

“You like it, don’t you?” you hum, seductively walking your fingers along his shoulders. “You like the idea of knocking me up.” 

Refusing to look at you, Kakashi clears his throat, trying to ignore the arousal that comes on from your suggestive tone, never mind the words you speak in it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“No?” The sheets rustle as you reposition yourself, and then, when your fingers delicately wrap around his cock, he inhales sharply and bites the inside of his cheek. “Then why are you so hard?”  

And he is, too. He’s already fully erect and ready for another round, and he knows that there’s no way to lie his way out of it anymore. As you start to work your hand over him in slow, sensual strokes, up and down, coaxing the answer out of him, his head drops back. 

“Because,” he rasps.  

The sheets shift again, and then you crawl into his lap. He welcomes you gladly, splaying his hand over your lower back to steady you, though he still can’t face you. He’s too embarrassed. 

“Because why?” you ask breathlessly. Kakashi lets out a pleasured sigh as you kiss and suck your way up the side of his neck, stroking him steadily, before you purr into his ear, “Because you want to give me a baby?” 

A soft sound of approval rips out of his throat, and his cock twitches into your palm. “Don’t—Don’t say that,” he pleads. 

“Hm? Why not?” 

To hell with it. No sense in hiding it anymore. “Because I might actually do it.” 

“Yeah?” Your teeth tug playfully at his earlobe before you pull back to look at him, and Kakashi finally wills himself to meet your sultry gaze, humiliated though he is. “You know,” you muse, “I don’t like condoms for a reason. Do you know why?” 

The breath leaves his lungs with a whoosh.

Oh, he should have known. You’re just as filthy as he is. Of course you’d have a breeding kink, too, though he’s exceedingly grateful that you’d kept it to yourself until now. You’ve never been shy about sharing the things you enjoy, which means you probably figured out how he’d react. That’s the only explanation. 

He likes that you understand him as well as you do. 

He likes you.

“I think I might be able to guess,” Kakashi says knowingly, a smile playing at his lips. When he leans in to kiss you again, all he can think is: maybe it’s not a bad thing to be too attached. 

—

Snippet #1:

“You said it was overdue,” Kakashi tells you. 

“No, I said I needed to make an appointment,” you correct, and he can see that you’re struggling not to laugh. “I still have, like, a week left on it. I just didn’t think I’d be able to get an appointment that soon. It doesn’t hurt to be careful.” 

While you cook breakfast for the two of you, Kakashi wraps his arms around your waist from behind and traces the shell of your ear with his tongue.  “And what if I don’t want to be careful?”  

He feels the shiver wrack your body, but then you do laugh at him. “Down, boy. Three rounds wasn’t enough for you?” 

“Oh, I don’t know...” Kakashi pulls you back against him, allowing you to feel the answer for yourself. “You tell me.” 

—

Snippet #2:

Kakashi hides his face in your pillow, feeling distinctly vulnerable without his mask. “Don’t tease me,” he groans, muffled. “I have a delicate constitution.” 

You cackle at his discomfort, like the cruel woman you are. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I’m really, really curious.” Then you hum thoughtfully. “Do you want to know one of mine?” 

He shifts his head just enough to reveal one curious eye. 

You squirm a little, then, like you’re finally starting to realise exactly how embarrassing this is to talk about. “I, um...” A pause. “So, you know how...” Another pause, and you take a deep breath. “Okay. I like to imagine that I'm being used to—to repopulate a clan, I guess. Just, over and over. Lots of kids. But not for real.” 

He feels another jolt of arousal at your admission. 

Looks like you’re on the same page, then. 

Then Kakashi leans up onto his elbow to regard you properly, and then he lifts an eyebrow, as if to point out how closely that particular fantasy hits to home. 

That’s when you seem to realise who you’re talking to – the sole remaining member of a clan that could probably stand to be repopulated – and your eyes go wide, before you nearly trip over yourself to add, “It—It has nothing to do with your clan, specifically, Kakashi, it’s just—” 

“A fantasy,” he finishes for you, amused. 

 You worry your lip between your teeth and nod. 

“Well,” Kakashi says, considering his answer for a moment, “I might have imagined that, too. Specifically.” Then he gives you a roguish grin, intending to pay you back in kind for your teasing. “How many children do you think would be enough for my clan to be sufficiently repopulated, hm? I’m thinking eight.” 

Mortified, you bury your face in your hands. “Oh my god! Eight?” 

Payback’s a bitch. “Well, I was originally going to say ten, but—” 

When you squeal in embarrassment and yank the blankets over your head, Kakashi barely manages to stifle a laugh.  

—

A/N: This is the first thing I've posted in a hot minute, so your feedback would mean a lot - please let me know what you think :)

#kakashi smut #kakashi x reader smut #kakashi x reader #kakashi x you #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi imagine #kakashi #kakashi hatake #hatake kakashi

[itsokbbygrl]

Make Me Sweat.

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+//MDNI!!!!

WC: 6.8k (whoops)

Summary: Javi can't sleep. You can't keep it in your pants recently. Both of you find yourselves dripping on this sunny Saturday morning.

A/N: This is filth. I mean, it's written by me, so it's soft filth, sweet filth, but like, FILTH nonetheless. ♡ Written for my sweet new friend, Kricket @sugarcoated-lame for the @swiftiscruff friendship exchange, and inspired by P looking fucking delectable post-workout in that giant navy t-shirt. Thanks, bby boy. Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Tags: SMUT, PWP, reader understands basic spanish, author is requesting the reader to look up the minimal spanish used themselves if they can't figure it out with context clues, established relationship, f masturbation, sex toys, unprotected PIV, fingering, creampie, breeding kink, body hair mention, reader fits into Javi's oversized t-shirts, reader is able bodied and has female anatomy but otherwise pretty physically undescribed. i think that's it, lmk if i missed something egregious.

Javier woke with a start, heart racing, breaths coming quick and heavy. He closed his eyes and tried to slow, slow, slow it down. Concentrating on his breath, deep inhale, long exhale, again, again, until he felt the parasitic tendrils of his subconsciously derived nightmare recede. He sat up on his side of the bed and ran his palm down his face, the body-warm sheets pooling at the bend of his waist, the cool night air of the bedroom causing his skin to break out in gooseflesh. He peeked at the alarm clock on his bedside table. 5:43AM displayed in bright red light, the time taunting him. Too early to do much, too late to get much more sleep. Javi groaned to himself and decided to greet the day earlier than he anticipated. He leaned over to his side, dropping a soft kiss to the shoulder of his bed partner before lifting the sheets from his body and gently scooting out of bed to avoid waking her. 

Javi quietly moved around the room in darkness, grabbing a ratty old t-shirt and some athletic shorts out of a dresser drawer before moving to another to grab a pair of socks and clean underwear. He gently opened the door to the bedroom and padded down the hallway to the kitchen. He grabbed the pad of sticky notes and a pen from the junk drawer and left a note. Couldn’t sleep, went to the gym. Be back in a bit, amorcito. Te amo - Javi. He peeled the note from the pad and stuck it to the coffee maker, knowing that was the first place she always stopped in the mornings, sure to be seen, before grabbing his keys and wallet from the bowl on the countertop and heading to his car. 

“That’s it, mi amor, there you go. Just like that, cariño. Take it, take it, take it.” 

You writhed from your place below him, face buried in the sheets of your shared bed muffling your unabashed sounds of pleasure, hands gripping desperately at anything they could find. Javi’s hips smacked loudly against the flesh of your ass, his cock hitting you exactly how you needed as he pounded into you from behind. You felt your orgasm building, the coil of muscle in your lower belly tightening, cunt tightening and fluttering around him. 

“Can feel you, hermosa, she’s so tight, baby. You gonna come for me, hmm? C’mon, baby, come on it, need to feel you squeeze it like I know you can.”

You were right there, just a few more thrusts and you’d be tumbling over the edge. You tip your head to the side, wanting him to really hear it when you come for him. You let yourself be noisy, needy whines leaving your lips unbidden, tears springing to the corners of your eyes, the feeling of his thick cock so wholly overwhelming inside of you. You start to cry out in earnest as you feel your orgasm cresting, tears falling down your cheeks, pussy a tight, tight vice, gripping him so strongly you fear you may be torturing him just as much as he is you.  

“Javier! Javier! Don’t stop, don’t stop, please, please, please, ple–”

You wake with a start. Daylight is only just breaking over the horizon, the cool orange and blue glow of the morning shining through your bedroom window. Your brain begins to register where you are, when you are. You groan and reach over, feeling Javi’s side of the bed empty and cool to the touch. You remember your dream and sigh, wishing he was here to finish taking care of you. You look at your nightstand and see the time—just after 6:30AM. You sigh and wonder where he is this early. 

“Jav?” you call out. All that meets you is silence. You sigh and flop onto your back. You can try to get yourself off, but it’s never as good as when he’s there with you. You can be a proverbial teenage boy and take a cold shower to try to kill your arousal. You can try to push it from your mind and go make a pot of coffee and just start your day earlier than you’d planned. “Fuck it,” you say to yourself. You roll over to your nightstand and fish your trusty little vibrator from the drawer, turning to lie back and you shuck your wet panties. 

You scoot yourself back, propping yourself up a little, making the angle easier to reach as you turn on your toy and bring it down to your mound, teasing yourself a little, trying to ease your mind back into the place your dream had left off. You part your legs, spreading your folds ever so slightly, and you follow with your hand, touch featherlight, barely gliding the vibrator around the outside of your clit. You whimper and let your imagination wander. 

“There you are, cariño. Oh, she’s so wet, look at her drip. You’re getting our sheets so messy. That feel nice, baby?” you hear in his voice. You whine and nod to yourself, answering him. “Drag it lower, hermosa, hear how soaked you are?” You obey him, dragging the toy to your entrance, the vibrations meeting the sloppy mess there and causing an obscene splattering, crackling noise to reverberate through the room. You moan out loud at the sound, at how worked up you are. “Delicious, wish I was there to have a taste. Always so sweet when you wake up. Have one for me, baby, get it nice and wet and have a taste,” he instructs in your mind and you comply, dipping the toy inside and giving yourself a few shallow thrusts before pulling it out, viscous line of your slick still attached, snapping over your stomach and leaving drips of you behind as you bring the toy to your mouth and suck, cleaning it of the remaining stickiness and humming at the sweet sour taste of yourself. 

You bring your vibrator back down, placing it back down just next to your clit, not wanting to end things too soon. You let Javier’s voice filter back into your head. “Beautiful, baby. Look at you. Goddess in my bed, making herself feel so nice. Go, baby, put it on your clit like you want. Dámelo.” You use your other hand to pull the little hood back, fully exposing the button of your clit to the air for the first time this morning. The feeling sends zings of pleasure down your spine and you shiver, pussy clenching tight with desire. You move the toy to press directly on your button and you see stars behind your eyes, mouth dropping open, a whiny moan escaping your throat. 

“Mierda, cariño. Tan hermosa. Come on, baby, rub her nice and fast for me, want to see my girl come,” you hear him say. You click the button to increase the intensity of the vibrations from the toy and start massaging it in tight, firm circles on your clit, the pleasure almost unbearable. You release the little hood from your hold and use your free hand to push up your sleep shirt, pinching at your nipples. The added stimulation was exactly what you needed and you feel your orgasm crash into you like a tidal wave. You cry out in ecstasy, thighs closing of their own accord as your pussy convulses, waves and waves of creamy slick sliding out of you and down to the sheets below. When the vibrations become overstimulating, you press a long click to turn the toy off and toss it to the side. You lie there for a moment, catching your breath and coming back to reality after so thoroughly rocking your own world. You let out a little giggle, happy hormones flooding your system after such a good orgasm. You snuggle into the pillows for a moment, grabbing Javi’s from his side and inhaling the scent of him that lingers there. The smell of him makes you melancholic for a moment, wishing he had actually been here to experience your morning pleasure with you. You give his pillow a squeeze before putting it back on his side of the bed, throwing your legs over your side and forcing yourself to get up. 

You head to your ensuite bathroom first. You strip off your sleep shirt and give your naked body a once over in the mirror, turning to the side and admiring the curvature you find there, a thing you despised for years, but have learned to love through the adoring gaze of your partner. You quickly clean yourself up and brush your teeth before walking to your dresser and grabbing a fresh t-shirt and pair of lounge shorts, throwing them on your body. 

Once dressed, you make your way to the kitchen. Daylight has broken over the horizon, bright sun warming the space. You yawn and stretch your arms up high over your head. When you open your eyes, you spot a hot pink square attached to the coffee machine. Curious, you walk over to see what it is and make a pot to share with Javi, wherever he is. You grab the bag of grounds, box of filters, and the measuring spoon from the cabinet above, setting them on the counter, and pull the sticky note away, giving it a read. You release some tension you didn't realize you were holding onto now that you know where Javier is, but you frown knowing he was struggling with sleep, hoping it was just a one-off bout of insomnia and not a symptom of a greater issue. 

You dump the requisite amount of coffee grounds into a filter, placing them into the brewing compartment of the machine, filling the water compartment and setting the machine to brew. You grab your favorite mugs—yours a, “World’s Best Grandpa,” joke gift from your little brother, his a vintage speckled cup you found while thrifting that he says reminds him of the mug his dad always used when he was a kid—and set them on the counter next to the brewing pot. You rest your hip against the countertop as the coffee percolates and think about Javier’s note, remembering the last time he dealt with insomnia. 

It was early into your relationship. Javier had been home from Colombia for barely a year, still adjusting to the new speed of his life stateside, working the ranch with his papá. He had taken you on a date to the drive-in movie theater and fallen asleep within the first half hour. You’d noticed he had looked tired recently, but weren’t sure if it was your place to pry yet, so you let it be, figuring if it was important, he would tell you. You let him snooze for a few minutes before you gently shook him awake. 

“Javier? Javi? Hey,” you softly uttered, rousing him. 

“Hmm?” he sleepily replied, smacking his lips and tongue. 

“You fell asleep. Is everything ok? Should we reschedule?” You ask, trying to convey nothing but genuine concern with your kind eyes and touch. 

“I…what?” Javier starts, confused. “I fell asleep?” He’s visibly embarrassed, cheeks reddening and eyes widening. You can feel his heart rate pick up from where your hand rests on his chest. 

“You did. It’s ok, I’m not upset,” you console him. “Just want to make sure you’re ok. Is everything alright? I know this,” you gesture between you, “is still pretty new, but, Javi, I want to know things about you. If something is wrong, I want to know, want you to tell me, want to help if I can. I really,” you trail off momentarily, “I care about you, Jav, a lot.”

Javier sighs and lets his head release, falling towards his chest. He takes a couple deep breaths before he meets your eyes. “I haven’t been sleeping. It’s been, fuck,” he swipes his big palm over his face, “a few weeks now? Can’t get more than a few hours at a time. I’ve been, umm,” he considers his next words. You wait patiently, soothingly rubbing your thumb over his chest. “I’ve been having these dreams. Or memories. I…they feel the same, I don’t know how to describe it. And I can’t, fuck, their faces, I can’t stop seeing their faces, cariño.” You feel something wet drip onto the back of your hand and look up, watching as two more tears fall from Javier’s eyes. 

“Oh, Javier, come here, baby,” you coo, wiping his tears with your thumbs before winding your arms around his neck, pulling him bodily to you and holding him tight, allowing him to cry into your shoulder. The movie was all but forgotten that night as you turned down the radio and listened to Javier tell you everything he experienced in Colombia. He told you later on how he was terrified he’d scared you off after that night, but when you asked to see him again the next night, he knew you were something special, someone he didn’t want to lose. You come back to the present, hoping this isn’t his PTSD rearing its ugly head again, but prepared to help him through it, whatever he needs, you’re a team. 

You decide to get a head start on breakfast, pulling the carton of eggs, the leftover stir fry veggies from your dinner a couple nights ago, and the cartons of strawberries and blueberries out from the fridge. You bend over to grab your trusty cast iron pan from the lower cabinet and place it on the stovetop, setting the temperature and turning on the oven. You reach for the radio that lives in the kitchen and set it to one of yours and Javier’s favorite stations, swaying to the beat of the music as you crack eight of the eggs into a bowl, using a whisk to whip them into a fluffy scramble before adding the leftover veggies. You season the mixture, dumping it into the pan, and placing it in the oven to bake, setting a timer to check it and fluff the mixture before it fully sets. You turn back to the countertop and grab a cutting board, preparing the strawberries when you hear the garage door open, signaling Javier’s return. 

Javier was frustrated. He’d slept like shit, had only a mediocre workout, hit just about every red light on the way home, and then realized he’d left his ear buds on the treadmill after he parked his car back at home. He wished he could start the day over. He took a deep breath and tried to re-center himself before making his way inside, not wanting to drag you into his bad mood. 

Javi expected to find you still in bed, the time just past 7:00AM on your day off, but he was pleasantly surprised to find you awake and puttering around the kitchen. He knows you heard him enter the house, but took a minute to admire you from behind while you worked, radio crooning one of your favorite songs, your hips swaying to and fro as you cut fruit for your breakfast. He knew he’d been staring too long already, surprised you hadn’t called him out on it yet, so he moved from his spot in the doorway over to you, gently removing the knife from your hand and winding his strong arms around your waist. 

“Morning, hermosa,” he said into your messy bed hair, taking a moment to hold you and reset his day. He felt your body relax in his hold, your hands resting over his own, tilting your head to the side and exposing your neck to him. Javier knew to never look a gift horse in the mouth, tilting his head down, nosing along the tendon there, leaving a soft kiss on your pulse point before continuing their descent lower, down your neck and across your shoulder. You sigh and he smiles. 

“You stink,” is the first thing you say to him this morning and it makes him laugh, the two of you long past pulling your punches around each other. 

“Went to the gym, did you get my note?” Javier checks. 

“Mmhmm, thank you for leaving it. Made me feel better, knowing where you were.”

“Mm good,” Javi replies, giving you a squeeze before releasing you to continue fixing your breakfast. “What’cha got going there, baby?” 

He watched you pick up the knife and deftly get back to work. “Have a frittata in the oven, slicing up some strawberries, figured we could throw them in with the blueberries since they’re getting old and need to be finished. Made us some coffee, too. Your mug is out on the counter if you want a cup,” you turn your head and nod in the direction of the mugs. He walks by and kisses you on the cheek before grabbing his mug and the full coffee pot, pouring himself a cup. 

“Want me to make you one?” he asks, watching as you shake your head in response. 

“That’s ok, thank you though. I’ll fix my own in just a minute, want to finish this first,” and as you finish your sentence the timer beeps. Javi leans his hip on the counter, watching as you bend over, giving him a prime view of your juicy behind. Far too invested to care if he gets staring, he notices your cheeks are bare, loose legs of the shorts doing little to conceal what lies beneath as they ride up just enough while you’re bent over the oven, fluffing the eggy mixture of the frittata. He changes the angle, leaning further to the side and tilts his head to get a better view, fully perving on you now, and he catches a peek of what he’d hoped he’d find. Your sweet, soft, wholly bare pussy greets his eyes. Tan hermosa, Javi thinks, loving the way he can see wetness lingering on your lips. He whistles low and soft, causing you to turn to face him, shutting the oven door and resetting the kitchen timer. 

“What?” you chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest, inadvertently drawing his eyes to your breasts beneath your shirt. 

“Just enjoying the view,” Javi replies, taking a slurp of his coffee, casting his eyes down to your now hidden pussy, before lifting them back to meet your gaze. He watches as your breath hitches ever so slightly in your chest, eyes growing wider. He knows you know you’ve been caught, thinks it’s sweet that you still find it a little scandalous being caught bare around him after how long you’ve been together, everything you’ve been through together. He glances at the timer, 10 minutes remain, he can work with that. 

He sets his mug down and moves forward, caging you between his broad chest and the countertop. He’ll never get over the way you look at him, how much want he finds in your eyes. He still can’t believe he gets to call you his, permanently, that you’d wanted to keep him forever just as much as he wanted to keep you. Javier brings a hand up to cup your face, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone and feels you nuzzle into his palm. “You’re a naughty little thing, aren’t you, cariño? ¿Dónde están tus bragas, hmm?”

He feels you smile against his palm. When you speak, you’re looking directly into his eyes. “Had to take them off, they were all wet.” He anticipated your dirty mouth, but didn’t expect you to say that. He shakes himself out of the stupor. 

“Oh?” he starts, softly dragging his hand along your jaw, briefly pinching your chin between his forefinger and thumb before they continue their journey down, down, down, over your neck, between your clothed breasts and lower, over your stomach, the muscles jumping at his touch. “Why’s that, baby? Something happen while I was gone?” he asks, touch feathering where he knows you're desperate for him before taking mercy and cupping his wide palm over your heated sex. 

“Might’ve,” you sigh, teasing him right back. He loves this about you, you always give just as good as you get, keeping him on his toes. 

“Yeah, cariño? What happened? Tell me, baby,” he requests, pushing the heel of his hand up, giving you more of the pressure you’re craving. He feels you tuck your face into his neck, grinding down into his touch, your arms winding around his neck to keep him close, as if he would ever pull away from this, from you. 

“I had a sexy dream,” you start. “I, mmm, I—you were railing me, Javier, so fucking good,” you take a second to rub into him, breath hot and damp against his neck. He’s going to get light headed with how fast the blood is rushing to his cock. “You had me face down, ass up. You were, ahhhh, so fucking deep, stretching me so good, had me screaming for you, and I, fuck, I woke up right before I came,” you finish, fully whining now, grinding with his hand in a slow, syrupy rhythm. 

“Ángel, mierda,” Javi says. “Need me, baby? Need me to touch that sweet, neglected little cunt?”

“Not that neglected,” he hears you mumble into his neck. 

Javi drops his voice to that deep timbre he knows works you up like nothing else. “That so? ‘M I gonna be spoiling her? Giving her this much attention? Sounds like you took care of her already, hmm?” 

He feels you shake your head and hum a “uh uh,” sound. You peel your face away from his neck and tilt your head back, leaning up to whisper in his ear. “Made her come once, but she needs you, too. Please, Javier, amor, te necesito.” And how can he ever deny you when you ask so nicely?

“Jump up,” he requests, grabbing you by the waist to help guide you as you hop up to sit on the counter. He reaches to the hem of your t-shirt, dragging it up your torso. “Lift,” he instructs, and you comply easily, raising your arms overhead as he finishes pulling the garment up and off you, tossing it to the side, using both hands to gently knead at your breasts. You smile and sigh at the feeling and he hums in approval, wanting nothing more than to please you. 

Javier grabs your hands, cock twitching in his shorts at the sheer size difference between you, and brings them to pick up where his own left off. “Touch, feel yourself, cariño, there you go,” he encourages, watching as you squeeze and pinch and flick at your own nipples, little quakes traveling through your body at the feeling. He slides his palms beneath your shorts, pushing them down, caressing his hands over the swell of your ass as he goes. You lift yourself up helpfully as he tugs the garment down and off your legs. You’re a vision from his place at your feet, gorgeous tits in your hands, your cheeks heated, breathing heavily, eyelids fighting to remain open. He watches you shiver and he gets an idea. 

He reaches behind his neck and tugs his own sweaty t-shirt away from his body. He flips it around and bunches it up in his hands. “Arms up, hermosa,” he commands. You release your breasts from your grip and look at him, eyes glazed over in pleasure. You give him a slightly confused look, but comply, once again raising your arms above your head. Javier carefully guides your arms through the holes before pulling the shirt down over your head. 

“Winnie the Poohing it in the kitchen on a Saturday morning. Casual,” you joke, giggling, and it lights his heart on fucking fire. So sexy, so smart, so silly, all rolled into one perfect package for him. He sends a thanks to the heavens, assuming his mamá pulled some strings up there to bring you to him, unable to explain it any other way. He chuckles with you, easing the tension slightly, cooling you both off a little before things get too hot too fast. 

“Always so fucking sexy in my clothes,” he remarks, unable to help himself. 

“Trying to get me in the shower with you, amor? Could’ve just asked,” you retort cheekily, gently tugging the sweaty t-shirt away from your body. 

Javier hums. “No, mi ángel, s’not that…know I’m about to be covered in you—my fingers, my mouth, my cock are going to reek of your sweet pussy, might never be able to get the smell out.” To drive his point home he reaches his hand down to where you’re absolutely weeping for him and drags two of his thick fingers through the wet mess he finds there, coating them thoroughly in your juices before bringing them up to his nose and taking a deep inhale, groaning at the scent of you, before stuffing them in his mouth, sucking and savoring the taste of you. “Wanted you to reek of me, too. Fair is fair.”

Your smaller hands dart out from where they had been holding his shirt, grabbing his face and hauling his mouth to yours. The kiss is feverish, desperate, teeth knocking, tongues aggressively searching each other’s mouth. Javier brings his fingers back to your cunt, gathering your wetness and coating them thoroughly before teasing one at your entrance. The feeling makes you gasp, pulling back from the kiss enough to nod, before he sinks his finger inside you. The tight warmth he finds within your body is incomparable. You both look down to where his finger slides in and out of you, watching the obscenity of it, the beauty of your creamy slick coating the single digit. He gives you a few pumps before adding a second finger. He can feel the stretch of your walls, working to accommodate him so graciously. 

“Good girl, baby. There you go, just relax and let yourself feel it. S’nice, so fucking wet, cariño, look how creamy you are today.” He hears you groan at that, your breathing picking up as he explores you from within, curling his fingers to rub against the soft spongy spot he knows makes you see stars.

“Think I’m, shit, think I’m ovulating. Or close, or something. I’ve been so needy, can’t get enough of you. Need you in me, on me, around me all the time,” he hears you say and it almost knocks the wind out of him. You’re not done yet though and you continue, “Honestly, I’m not even mad about the shirt, think the fucking stink of you is making me drip. Pheromones or some shit. Had to shove my face in your pillow this morning after I came,” you finish. 

Javi uses his free hand to push his shorts down, finally freeing his hard cock to the warm air of the kitchen. He’s leaking, tip shiny with pearlescent wetness. He uses his free hand to swipe it from his head onto his fingertips, and brings them up to your mouth. “Open for me, hermosa. Taste me, take me inside you like this first, baby.” You’re looking at him like he hung the moon just for you, and maybe he did. He would. He’d do anything for you. You open your mouth for him, so soft and sweet and plush, and he feeds you his own slick at the same time that he removes his soaked fingers from you and brings them to his mouth, getting another taste of you, feeding each other in the most primal way. 

Javier grabs his thick cock in hand and gives himself a few strong pumps to take the edge off, loving having your eyes on him like this. He steps back towards you and grabs your right leg first, bending it at the knee, opening your hip wide, and placing the heel on the countertop, messy pussy on full display for him in this position. He swipes his cock through your wet folds, coating himself in your slick again and again. He rubs his head against your clit over and over and over, nerve endings alight, zipping pleasure through both of your centers. 

“Javi, baby, fuck, please, please, I need you inside me, please put it inside me,” you beg. And who is he to deny you when you ask like that, his earth angel. He notches his cock at your entrance and starts pressing forward, the wide head of him popping through the tight opening of your sex, both of you moaning aloud at the feeling. He’s overcome with the feeling of being inside you like this. You’re so wet and tight and hot—the temperature of you something he can never replicate on his own. 

He presses forward firmly, but gently, knowing he’ll always be a stretch for you to take. “Doing so good, hermosa, keep breathing for me. There you go, let me in, baby,” he praises, having learned his words do wonders to help you focus on the moment and keep your muscles relaxed. He uses his thumb to rub soft circles into your clit, watches as you shiver at his touch, feels you soften further, sweet pussy dripping more slick around him to help him slide forward. Before he presses all the way inside, Javier draws his hips back, cock sluicing out, and presses back in. He repeats his slow, shallow thrusts a few more times, obsessed with how your cunt is coating him in thick creamy wetness, the squishing sound it makes with every movement intoxicating. 

He looks at your face as he presses in deeper, extending each of his next thrusts until he’s fully sheathed. Your eyes are closed, mouth agape, lips bitten and kiss swollen, your eyebrows raised in pleasure. You’re breathing heavily, chest rising and falling visibly as you let out the most beautiful noises he’s ever heard. You’re unreal, a goddess divine, and he will gladly worship at your altar until the day he dies. 

“Baby, ángel, mi amorcito, eres toda mi vida, me tienes para siempre,” he lets the words fall from his lips prayerfully, immediately making good on his promise. 

“Javier, javier, fuck me, amor, fuck me harder,” you gasp out to him and who is he to defy the will of the divine? 

“Hold onto me, amorcito, gonna give you what you need.” Javi feels your hands slide around his sides under his arms as he continues to thrust in hard and slow, wrapping your arms around his back and holding onto his shoulders before wrapping your legs around his hips, locking your ankles in the dip of his lower back. “There you go, baby, so perfect for me. Stop me if it’s too much, ok?” He lifts your chin with his finger, meeting your eyes to make sure you’re both on the same page. You look wrecked and he’s sure he’s no better off. He leans forward, capturing your lips in a kiss far less debauched than the last. 

You break away and rest your forehead against his, the gesture releasing a thousand butterflies within him. “Ok, I will, I promise,” you reply sweetly, and Javier lets himself go. He immediately pulls almost completely out of your wet clutch before throwing his hips forward, hard. It punches the air out of your lungs on a scream, so he does it again, and again, speeding up with each thrust until you’re nothing more than an animated moan. Your fingers are clutching at his shoulders, half moon divots of your nails leaving him branded with your pleasure. 

Javi knows you’re doing well, that you feel good, but he hasn’t made you make that sound yet, the one he knows so well, the one that makes your eyes roll back and body go limp. He changes the angle, bending his knees and tucking his hips under to get leverage towards the front wall of your soaking cunt. 

“JAVI, there, there, there, oh fuck, please, baby, don’t stop, please,” you cry out, your pussy squeezing him so hard he fears he may come right then. You start to whimper, breath hitching over and over and he knows what comes next. You can’t help yourself when it gets like this, he knows, so it doesn’t scare him anymore when he sees you start crying, tears streaming down your cheeks. He knows it’s a way for your body to release, ease the tension that’s been building within you. He moves the hand bracing himself against the cabinets to your cheek, wiping away the tears as they flow, giving you the comfort he knows you need when this happens. 

“So beautiful, amorcito, so sweet for me, soft little pussy doing such a good job, baby. She’s holding me so tight, so nicely,” he babbles, listening to the way your pussy absolutely squelches for him. He wonders if you’re right, if you’re ovulating right now. The thought sends a shiver down his spine. The most primal part of his brain ignites, making it hard for him to think about anything other than pumping you full of his spend, his seed, letting it take. You’ve talked about it, you’re both open to the possibility and decided to let nature run its course. If it happens, neither of you will be upset about it, and now, he wants it to happen, wants to be the cause, strut around with his chest puffed out, showing the world that you’re his, his goddess incarnate creating life through nothing but your love and pleasure. 

He’s brought back to the present when he feels you rocket through your orgasm. Cunt squeezing him so tightly he thinks you might push him out. He hears you scream his name as he continues to drive hard into your favorite spot, fluttering walls of your pussy massaging him from the inside. “Javi, javi, oh shit, fuck, I’m–Javi, I’m gonna—” he hears you get out before he feels a splash against his lower belly and he looks down just in time to see you squirt all over him and the kitchen floor. 

“Cariño, mierda, gorgeous, so fucking amazing, look at you coming for me. You’re unreal, mi diosa, mi cielito,” Javier praises as he slows his thrusts, knowing you need it softer after such an intense experience. He strokes his hand over your hair soothingly, petting you gently before bringing his hand to your cheek, tipping your head to look at him and he smiles when he meets your eyes. “There you are, baby. Did so good. You ok if I keep going? I’m close, promise, I’ll be careful with you.”

You smile back at him and his heart clenches in his chest. Your smaller hand comes up to cup his cheek, mirroring him, stroking your thumb along his cheekbone as he did for you. “Go, baby. Want you to come for me. Want you to come inside me,” you encourage him. Not for the first time this morning, Javier feels time stand still. 

“But you said,” he starts. 

“I know, I know what I said. Do it. Come inside me, Javi. Dump it deep, make it stick.”

Your words rattle around in his brain on loop, it’s all he can think about as he picks up the pace again. He tucks his arms underneath your knees, lifting them up and pressing them back towards your shoulders, opening your sweet center to him fully. He looks down, watching his big cock disappear and reappear over and over again, shiny wet and covered in your come, the thatch of hair at his base coated in your thick white creaminess. He’s going to do what you asked. He’s going to come so deep inside you that it can’t help but take. He’ll give you whatever you want, would give you his own life if you asked. 

You must feel him tensing, knowing he’s close, because he feels you sweetly push his sweaty hair back and lean forward, leaving a soft kiss to his damp forehead before giving the wet beads there a little kitten lick, giggling cutely as you taste the saltiness and curling your tongue back into your mouth. Content little menace, teasing like you didn’t just get fucked within an inch of your life, he thinks. It works for him though, spurs him on as he thinks about more of you, little yous, in the world. He groans and feels his balls pulling up, knows he’s right there. 

“Come, Javi, please. Want it, fill me, baby. Come on,” you chant, moving your arms down to grip his ass, pulling him into you. He moans loudly, giving you one, two, three more strong pumps before he releases. He convulses with the force of it, spurt after spurt of thick come coating you from the inside. You hold him tight, stroking your hands gently up and down his back soothingly. He feels cherished here in your arms and he can’t imagine being anywhere else right now. 

BRRRRRRRRRING, BRRRRRRRRRING, BRRRRRRRRING, BRRRRRRRRING

You laugh and Javier feels it from inside you. “Eggs are finished cooking,” you say nonchalantly. 

“Yeah, hopefully,” Javi says under his breath. He grunts softly as he pulls himself from the warmth of your body. He notices you move to get down and get the eggs and he stops you immediately. “No, you stay right there. And keep your hips up, need all the help we can get,” he says as he nods towards the devastating mess of your pussy. 

His words send a shiver through you and you whimper quietly, staying in your position as he requested, reaching a hand down to cup your mound and hold in as much of his come as you can. The sight makes him feel feral and he growls. He leans over and kisses your forehead, lingering for a moment before he pulls away to get the breakfast you so kindly prepared for the two of you out of the oven. 

“Mmm, smells delicious, cariño. Thank you for cooking for us,” Javier praises. 

“It was nothing, really. Easy recipe. It’ll be a good one to use with kids actually, can use it to trick ‘em into eating their veggies, too. Just load it up with cheese,” you chuckle in reply. Javier looks at you with stars in his eyes, the way you’re already making considerations for an expanding family. He can’t help the way he pulls you in, kissing you with everything he’s feeling, how thankful he is for your presence in his life, how deeply in love he is with you, how excited he is for your future together. You give it to him right back and he knows. 

“Thank you,” he reiterates, leaning his forehead against your own. 

“Of course, Javier. Can’t imagine doing it for anyone else, with anyone else. Now can you please run to the bedroom and grab me a pair of panties from the drawer? I’d like to be able to use this hand at some point today,” you laugh and he laughs in return. 

“I’ve got you, hermosa. Un momento.” Javier scampers to your bedroom, grabbing your favorite pair of comfort panties before making his way back to the kitchen. He holds them up and you smile at him in a way that lets him know he made the right choice. He helps slide them up your legs and over your behind, using his fingers to flatten the waistband around your hips. “Here, let me grab your t-shirt,” Javi says, moving to grab your discarded clothes from the floor. 

“No, Jav, it’s ok. Want to wear this one,” you reply, nuzzling your face into the shoulder of his dirty, old t-shirt. He swears his cock gives a feeble twitch at the sight. 

“Ok, baby, that’s fine. You can keep that one,” he confirms and holds out a hand to help you hop off the counter. 

“Good,” you reply, hands dusting off your thighs, the shirt fitting you in your favorite way, as you’ve told him, just covering your panties. “It makes me feel sexy, I can’t really describe why, but I do. You’re just so fucking broad, baby, your shirts hang off me, it’s hot as fuck,” you’d told him once and he never forgot it. 

“We’ll have to get you some more, make sure you have plenty of options,” Javier started. “Need you to be comfy while you cook,” he finished, reaching a hand out to casually graze against your lower stomach. He looks up to find your jaw dropped open, eyes getting that faraway, glazed over look, and he knows what’s coming next. “Baby, your breakfast,” he reasons. 

“Fuck breakfast, we have a microwave. Can you go again?” you ask, reaching out to palm at his semi-soft cock. 

The feeling of your hand against his sensitive skin makes him shiver. “For you, cariño? Always.”

Thank you for reading. Please leave a comment or reblog to support fandom authors!

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[bardic-inspo]

Dhampir Dreams

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Tav (Generic/Unnamed)

Part 1 of 2

Rating: Explicit (Smut)

Key Tags: breeding kink, pregnancy kink, body worship, light dom/sub, light bondage, light praise kink, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it dacryphilia, cunnilingus, PIV, Astarion’s past trauma, smut with so many feelings but nearly no plot, character introspection

Summary:

Tav saw beauty in Astarion he couldn’t have seen himself, even if he had a reflection to gawk at. She made love with a man who never thought he could have anything near it. Made all his red dreams come true, and then said: go on, make new ones, in whatever color you like. Astarion never thought about being a father. Not before her. Or: an angsty-turned-horny character study about the pale elf and his thoughts on creating new (un)life.

A/N: This is my first stab at writing a more generic Tav. Tav in this piece is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns. Most other identifying features are left out.

Click here to read on AO3 instead

Astarion’s never thought much about making another vampire.

In the rare moments the notion occurred to him, he shoved it to the far back shelf of his mind so as not to waste himself on an exercise in futility. What did it matter, after all, while Cazador still lorded over him?

More than anything, Astarion yearned to see Cazador’s blood spill. In his mind’s eye, he’d watch it pool across the floor, not unlike the way he'd seen so much clothing puddled at so many heels. The lake he’d make of his master would be wide enough to swallow the garments of all who’d stripped bare before Astarion. Every sweat-soaked night he found himself bound to another moldering mattress beneath someone else’s weight, rocking through the motions that left his stomach sour, he’d fill his mind with such sweet dreams as Cazador’s death.

Whether Cazador would allow Astarion to drink his blood before being relieved of it varied with the fantasy. The dream changed as often as the hands on Astarion’s hips. It mattered little to him whether Cazador’s end came with true vampirism or not. As long as he ended. 

As long as the vile river of shit that comprised Astarion’s life ended, one way or another. For better. Or for good.

Of course, he flirted with the fantasy of his own spawn, sent out like skittering spiders to dispense his will. Foul little monsters they would be. Fine tools to have in his arsenal; Astarion would only want such wretches of his own the way one might want a hammer to pound a nail. And what he wanted didn’t hold any weight while bound in Cazador’s chains.

So the idea recoiled into the dusty recesses of his mind, collecting cobwebs kitty-corner to such out of reach trophies as freedom from his servitude to Cazador and the sun itself. Both still gleamed, despite the tarnish of time and hope rusted over. Despite Astarion’s prayers, no heroes came to save him. No gods or slayers or saviors spared him from his servitude. 

Until the illithids did.

Despite everything -- the centuries of torment, the hollow where his heart should be, its silence in his ribcage, the scars on his back, the thousands of other lashes that Cazador let fade from his porcelain skin -- Astarion did the one thing Cazador could never.

He stood in the sun. And on the sands of that same beach, another miracle washed ashore. A contradiction. His counterweight to everything else he’d ever known.

Tav.

Astarion’s hands roam the supple shape of her nestled against his bare chest. Her breath crests and falls soft and rhythmic, like the gentle slap of waves against the cliffs where they first found each other. His darling is always so serene in her sleep. Astarion dips his head down, nosing her splayed hair on the pillow, drinking in the lovely scent of lavender that always lingers with his lover.

Often, he wakes before her, as he does now in the dim blue light of dusk. Not yet dark enough for him to step outside, but for the moment, there’s nowhere in the world he’d rather be. Not even in the raw, rippling light of day.

The smell of her has his eyelids heavy again, the steady patter of her heartbeat hypnotic in his head. His hands curve over the flare of her hips before slipping beneath the hem of her tunic. He stifles the satisfied hum that bubbles in the back of his throat as his palm smooths down the lithe stretch of her stomach. He resettles with his nose in the crook of her neck, eyelashes grazing the twin puncture scars that mark her as his.

He’d thought, once, that he’d ascend and have her at his side for an eternity. He was scared. Frantic. Grasping. He thought he had to grasp at something, fashion some sort of tether, to have her. Thought he had to have power, and enough of it, to keep her. Now he holds her every morning in the bed they share, until day becomes night again. It’s as effortless as blinking.

Now, the thought of turning Tav into a vampire turns his stomach.

His lips brush, tender, to the flutter of her pulse in her neck. He loves those marks he gave her. He loves the way her fingertips tap against them when she’s lost in thought. He loves the way she arches into his arms as he feeds, the way her body gives and gives to him alone. That sleepy, slap-happy smile she has when he’s lapped his last for the evening. The way her eyes roll back, and she gasps, breathless, as he kisses a trail from her neck to a nipple and sucks fervently.

He loves that he’s marked her, but that it didn’t change her. He can still curl into the heat of her skin at night. Still watch her preen in a mirror. Still stare at those gorgeous eyes and know the shade of them is hers. Her cheeks still turn the shade of sunrise when he leans in with a lustful whisper, or grazes her waist with a feather-light touch.

Absently, his fingers follow the path of an old scar on her stomach. At its end, he finds the start of softness. Astarion loves that, too. She didn’t used to be soft there, when they were just surviving. They’re not just surviving anymore.

Perhaps he’s changed her after all. It’s not so scary anymore to admit she’s turned him, too. Not to the light, or anything so nauseatingly righteous. But rather, so Astarion could see himself in it. Even if his days of standing in the sun are done.

I’ll be your mirror, she vowed, what feels like another lifetime ago. She smiled in that fond way of hers that, at the time, hurt to look at too long. He scoffed at her poetic ruminations on his hair curling near his ears. The creases when he laughs. 

Tav saw beauty in him he couldn’t have seen himself, even if he had a reflection to gawk at. She made love with a man who never thought he could have anything near it. Made all his red dreams come true, and then said: go on, make new ones, in whatever color you like.

Astarion never thought about being a father. Not before her.

He’s thought of Tav as a mother before. It flitted through his mind when Astarion watched her ease Arabella’s pounding heart with the gentleness of her own. That feeling lingered when Yenna joined their camp, and Astarion caught Tav teaching her cards. Combing the snarls from the girl’s hair. Coaching her in the basics of swordplay.

She’d be a wonderful mother. Astarion has no doubts in that regard. And he, well…

He doesn’t have an example to look back on, or one to look up to. But he has his compass. Tav’s heart beats, sure and steady, in his ear. That sound’s guided him through so much else. How could he lose his way for long, if there were two pitter-patters to listen to? 

His palm paints cool over that blooming softness in her stomach. An ache burns in his own. The sort of hunger her blood won’t sate. Would she taste even sweeter, he wonders, with her body rounded and swollen? 

Of course she would. So hard to improve something so perfect already. But she’d be radiant, if she were ripe with their child.

And after, when their babe is born, and her body is new all over again, he'd love every line, every fold, every mark that came from their coupling. He’d worship every part of her that was remade by the two of them to make the three of them. Marvel at the way the same body that first truly fed him would feed their child, too. 

He’d help her find her way back to pleasure in her own way, in her own time. Just as she did for him. His Tav gives, and gives, and he’d give her anything, everything, for the rest of his days, if a wretch like him would be so stupidly blessed to be the father of her child.

Astarion pulls a breath between his teeth, his nose flooding with her floral scent again. That would change, too. She’d carry new notes in her sweat, in her slick, in her blood, while carrying their babe. Astarion wants to taste them all, to learn what songs she can sing while he does.

Instinctually, he presses to the plump of her ass to soothe the building stiffness in his cock. He plants a muted hum in the fabric of the pillow. His groin throbs to the thump-thump of his compass, beating oblivious beneath her ribs.

He pictures pouring into her, night after night, his spend spilling in little translucent rivers down her slicked thighs, overflowing from her cunt. Too much for her to hold in, but she’d take him as long as it takes until life sparks inside of her. Tav’s determined in all her undertakings. Resilient. 

And in his dreams, she’s pliant. Pleading. 

“Star, please.”

She’s trembling in that slinky, translucent nightgown she wears to bed sometimes. The one that hardly hides her skin, but cloaks it in a delectable, silvery sheen. He likes it too much to ruin it. Or at least, he has every other night. 

Oh, he’d like to ruin it, now.

Tav’s pupils are blown black with want. Sweat shimmers on her skin, spurring his tongue to swipe his own lips. Her shoulder peeks bare from her nightgown, and Astarion can see her pebbled nipples, dark beneath the sheer silk that separates them. Hardened with hardly a touch. A feeling he’s intimately familiar with. His cock twitches as he strokes the back of his hand over the soft swell of her breast. 

“Aren’t you sore, sweet thing?” He tries for tender, but it comes out coarse. Rough like the way he wants to grip her hips.

“So be gentle,” she says with a sultry smile, lips peeled apart and glistening just enough that Astarion can’t peel his eyes away. “I know you’ll take good care of me.”

Astarion slinks forward, crowding her against the edge of the bed. Careful, like cradling glass, his palm reaches out to cup the side of her cheek. She sighs into the touch, the curve of her smile reaching the heel of his hand.

“Always,” he says reverently, before his voice sinks to a growl. “You’re always so, so eager…for me.”

Her lashes flutter low over hungry eyes. All it takes is one little wordless bob of her head for Astarion’s own hunger to have the best of him. With a lazy roll of his wrists, he shoves her back with kind but firm force. The mattress bends with her impact, her breathless laughter nearly lost beneath the whine of the wooden frame. Astarion crawls after her, hands fisting in her nightgown, and pulling her free of it.

And then, she’s bare beneath him. Writhing from his tongue and teeth. Gasping out the best words he’s ever heard. Astarion downs them like a man starved, kissing her with the kind of fervor he thought reserved for bloodlust. But her lips, the promises they pour, are sustenance all on their own.

“I’m yours,” she whispers, “all yours. Always. All of me.”

Astarion can’t stifle the whine that drags from some hollow in his chest he never knew about before.

The bed creaks as he hitches one of Tav’s limber legs up over his shoulder and nips a path of sharp kisses from her ankle to the crux of her thigh. He pauses, sweeping a feverish gaze over the spread of her: legs parted in his grip, that perfect slit, already wet with want, the rest of her sprawled naked across the bed, at his mercy, at his desire, at her own. 

He leans down, tongue dipping leisurely through her cunt. Always, she swore. So there’s no hurry in how he takes apart the woman he loves so dearly, in one of her favorite ways to be unmade. No matter how many times she claws the sheets and hisses, “Please, Star. F-fuck, I need you inside of me.”

It turns something in the depths of him to hear his own name said as a prayer. It makes him want with a force and harshness stronger than any thirst he’s felt for blood. He wants to turn her. Change her. Forever, for good. For the life they could make from their bodies, bound as close as souls could be. He wants to see her swell with the love they make, with all the love he’ll leave inside her.

She’s so close, her legs quaking violently when her hand tangles his hair and yanks his head upright. She’s beautiful, flushed ruby red, taking her air in shallow doses. Her eyes burn with equal measures adoration and reproach.

Astarion smirks, unrepentant, lips smeared with devotion. “My love, any work of art takes time. And that’s what we’re making, you know. When others look upon our progeny, they will weep in the sight of such beauty.”

“If all it takes is time, dearest,” she says, with a smile just as filthy, “then I don’t want to waste one second of it lying here empty.”

“Mmm,” Astarion sighs, nosing down against her throbbing clit, eyes flashing back to hers as he dares another lick. Her fist tightens in his hair. Astarion only chuckles. 

“You’re right, of course,” he croons. “That won’t do, at all. I do recall promising to-- how did you put it the other night? ‘Fuck you full and senseless’? I’m more partial to what you begged me for a tenday ago, when I had you face-down and waiting for me as soon as the sun was set. Remind me again, my love, what you said when you weren't gasping my name?"

Astarion presses the tip of his tongue to her clit again and tastes her rapid, ravenous pulse in the heat of it. Tav’s hips jerk in response, but he holds her fast.

“I-I said I want-- that I want--”

“You want me to ‘breed you like a damn animal’," he finishes for her. "Oh, don’t be shy now, my sweet. We’re far past that. And we want the same things, after all. But," he sighs, letting his lips drag through her flushed folds, "I've another promise to keep, first.”

Astarion flicks his wrist, muttering magic beneath his breath. Tav’s sharp little yelp of surprise shoots heat straight to his groin. His cock throbs as she settles again, arms bound above her head by his mage hand, tits bouncing from the slightest struggle against her restraints. She smirks up at him, eyes aflame with fresh desire. Escape is the farthest thing from what she wants.

“You lie back now, dear,” Astarion drawls. “You’ll take me soon enough. You’ll be so good for me, like you always are, and take everything I give you. And I’ll take very, very good care of the woman I intend to make a mother.”

Astarion watches her keenly, tracing his forefinger down through her slick. He unfurls it, circling her cunt daintily, and watching her writhe for even the faintest promise of friction. He’s not sure if it’s his mercy or his selfishness that readily discards the thought of keeping her here, just like this, for the rest of the day. She’s mesmerizing, with the way her back arches from the blankets, and how her body strains towards any touch he’ll spare her. 

All mine, he thinks, with a smile that makes him feel weightless. He grounds his hardened cock against the edge of the bed, groaning. All yours, darling. Just for you.

Pride rumbles low in his chest as he sets his mouth back to work again and knows she can’t cover her own. There’s no muffling his name pouring from her lips. No hiding how she cries for him. Her whole body winds taut, shuddering with every stroke of his tongue. 

Finally, finally, he lets his finger slip inside her. Astarion sighs into a satisfied purr, letting the tremble of it soak into her sex. Her cunt’s a vice around his knuckle. Every pump of his finger feeds the building burn inside him, fanning the ache to be sheathed in that tightness. He only aches more, feeling her squeeze around his finger, and knowing she longs for him just the same.

He slips in a second finger to join the first, feeling her spread and then clench anew. Astarion ruts aimlessly into the mattress, in time with the thrust of his wrist. The head of his cock weeps anticipation with the rogue tear trailing down the side of her cheek. It’s only pleasure that makes her cry.

There’s only love in her heavy-lidded gaze as she pants, “Please.”

Mercy, then, Astarion resolves. For both of them.

Her thighs quiver against his ears like leaves in a breeze. Astarion swirls his tongue against the bud of her clit and sucks tightly. Tav stiffens abruptly. His arms hook firm around her legs as a shattered sound breaks from her throat,and a hard tremor courses through her hips. 

He holds her through it, pinning her to the bed until just the faintest brush of his lips has her shuddering. The start of her plaintive whimper has him easing back. A murmured word sets her wrists free of her restraints. Her heart still hammers, sumptuous, in his head, as he peppers her legs in kisses soft as velvet.

“Beautiful,” he whispers with each one, slinking up her body while she comes back down. “So, so beautiful.”

He thinks of new life, as his knee bends between her thighs and drags her open all over again. He thinks of the graveyard, where he had her freely beneath the stars, in the dirt where he woke centuries ago. He thinks he’d be happy to die again, this way, as he slides forward and buries himself inside her waiting heat.

Astarion grates out a long, low moan as he basks in the wrap of her arms and her cunt. Dimly, he feels her fingertips threading gently through his curls. He thinks of sunlight on his skin again as he sinks in fully, bracing his arms on either side of her head, letting his forehead tilt against hers. He can feel her pulse thrumming through her body, through his cock, through his fogged-over thoughts. His hips roll to the sound, as if it beckoned him to motion. Tav’s head drops back into the pillows. She lets out a long, contented hum, while her body rocks in time with his.

“Is this what you needed, darling?” He huffs a laugh, catching her lips in chaste kiss. It’s enough for her to taste her own sweetness. And one squeeze from her cunt is enough to cut his breath away all over again. 

“I think you needed me, too,” she purrs.

“Y-yes,” he stammers through bared teeth, his throat tied taut as she wrings him for all he’s worth. “Yes.”

She knows exactly what he needs, what he yearns for. He needs her, needs this, needs to see his seed seeping from her fucked-out hole, pink and puffy and leaking. He’ll know the rest of it was spent so deep inside her, her fertile womb is flooded. That’s his, too, with the rest of her. 

Hips high for me, beautiful, he’ll say, when his last thrust is done. And he’ll hold her legs up against his shoulders, kiss her heels, and slip the pillow beneath her pelvis. Just to be sure it takes. 

It’ll be another couple months before they’ll start to see the fruit of their efforts. Until Tav starts to bloom with it. And then, he’ll be hard pressed not to have his hands on her every hour. Cupping the fresh heft of her breasts as they grow with the passing days, heavy from him, for the babe growing in her belly. He’ll soothe her weepy eyes and tits alike, with a skilled tongue and sweet whisper. Rub her shoulders to ease the new weight her bones carry. Draw his nose down her neck and smell not just her, but himself, and the consequences of what they did, right here in this bed.

Feel her change beneath his hands and feel so fucking proud to be the reason.

Pleasure winds, binding, around his cock, and he feels that hunger snap its jaws around him all over again. His hips snap with it, jerking frantically. I need you, all of you, he thinks, and if he weren’t already fucking her, he’d be on his knees, begging for all he’s worth. Her cunt quivers, and he’s lost to the grip of her. Astarion shoves his own knuckles in his mouth to stifle a strangled cry. 

“Star?”

Astarion rips awake in a sweat. He sees familiar wooden beams above his head, above his bed. Sunlight streaks the floorboards, leaking from behind the curtains. Turning his cheek, he finds his lover peering at him from over her shoulder, concern wrinkling her face. Tav still lays on her side, and Astarion still presses against her back. But his hand clamps tight to her thigh, bare where he hiked up her tunic. And his cock twitches fitfully against her ass, unspent and painfully hard. 

Just a dream, then. For now, at least. 

He lets out a long, weary sigh, slumping back into the sheets. Tav tilts her head, the worry in her gaze gradually dissolving into a mischievous gleam.

“I thought you might--” she starts, snickering, “but you were having sweet dreams, weren’t you?”

“The best I’ve ever had,” Astarion mutters mournfully as he buries his face in his pillow. “You were there, of course.” 

Astarion rarely sleeps anymore. It’s not normal, not natural for an elf. But it was a trick he taught to dodge Cazador’s torment at least for a few hours a day. Reverie used to mean putting the horrors on repeat. He’d slowly eased from the habit, now that he has new memories worth seeing a second, third, or hundredth time. 

Still, occasionally, he drifts to sleep without meaning to. Sometimes, he wanders off into novel nightmares. Or, if he’s lucky, he dreams of making love to his wife and making her pregnant. Of making their own little dhampir.

His hips shift, and he hisses. Pre-cum seeps from the head of his cock, slickening the shaft. It’s not enough. Not after such a succulent fantasy. But one touch from his darling might have him sated, if not entirely satisfied. Pleasure stabs, sharp, through his groin as she shifts and brushes him with her motion. He grimaces. 

Just one touch alone could do it.

“I’m here now,” she smirks, twisting to face him. Her hand slips down between them. Mercy, he thinks, as her fingers wrap his length. He thrusts into her palm with a pleading whimper. “Tell me all about these dreams of yours.”

A/N: If you're yelling "Let him breed!!" at the screen just know I'm right there with you holding a megaphone about it 💜

If you'd like me to add you to a tag list for future one-shots, or all of my future BG3 fic (including multi-chapters), leave me a comment and let me know which you'd like!

If there's interest (from others & myself) perhaps there might be a part two where Tav takes matters into her own hands. Makes him say exactly what he wants, if he wants to have it so bad 👀

EDIT: This is now officially a part one of two 😉

& HUGE thank you to some lovely Discord and Tumblr friends/moots who cheered me on as I worked on this one! 💜

Tag List: @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

Banner credit to @cafekitsune

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion smut #tavstarion #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #astarion breeding #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #astarion x f!tav #f!tav x astarion #my writing #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate

[saradika]

— invisible string

din djarin x vaguely force sensitive!reader

rated e - 1.7k

tags: divergent timeline, soulmate!au, takes place across season 1 & 2, missed connections, the Razor Crest lives, PiV, marking, creampie, magical elements

a/n: for the TS Challenge by @beskarandblasters! This was so fun, thanks so much for hosting this event! 💖 I was so excited to get this song & character

There's something about him, this man.

Deep down, it feels as if a string is tied around something vital inside you. A piece of you that you cannot live without, twined with its match inside him. Like the path you've taken has always led to this moment, this meeting.

You feel as if you are always out of step.

Too early. And then somehow - just a little bit too late.

As if you've missed something crucial. A prickle on the back of your neck. Eyes scanning the crowds of people as you weave through cities - looking for someone.

As to whom, though - you're never quite sure.

You think it's always been there. A similar sort of feeling that flickers when you're in danger. That was something you had cultivated. Manipulated into a force you can wield. A push and pull, an aid - when you need it. Something you draw from often, during your days as a smuggler.

But you're not sure what to do with this.

The feeling is pushed down on Nevarro.

Contacted for a job, one that had been easy enough. Your goods exchanged in a dingy cantina - a shipment of stolen fuel cells furtively traded to an irritated man that went by Karga. Your eyebrows raised at the charred hole in the man's fine clothes - a half-hearted wonder at how the man was still standing.

The Imperial credits he offers you do not get you far. He's unable to offer you a puck - his trade was in bounty hunting, not smuggling. You're not sure if you'd take one, and the cells are enough to keep his crew afloat for a while. A dead-end for now, but you think - not always.

After, your ship drifts along an unseen track.

To Tatooine this time. A big job for the Hutts that takes you two weeks. Days in the sun spent waiting for the payments to transfer to your account, and so in the meantime - you tinker.

Trading your way up. A broken blaster fixed, exchanged for ship parts. The parts installed, the labor paid for with two, beat-up old speeders.

Only to sell them both to a cocky hot-shot bounty hunter for double their value - his over-blown self-confidence eclipsing the fact that you were absolutely swindling him.

It’s not your problem.

Though here, you can't help but feel the urge to linger. An itch beneath your skin, as if you've missed something, again.

You ignore it. Trading up one more time - swapping Mos Eisley for the sea. The choppy waters of Trask washing away the grit and sand that clings to your skin.

There's always work to be found here - deals to make with the Quarren and Mon Calamari. Those days spent at the inn, with lunches of warm homemade chowder and wrapped in chunky-knit sweaters.

Eyes snagging on a couple that often sits together at lunch. Their features frog-like, affection clear in their soft chatter, the slow blink of their large, black eyes. You imagine it to be a stolen moment - meeting up in the afternoon, too eager to wait until evening to see each other.

It’s nice.

It follows you, back to your room.

You think about them later - the obvious connection. A bone-deep urge to find another that matches a part of you. Something you've never had.

Somehow you know it’s out there.

But it's not time.

The next day, your ship takes off again.

There's a feeling deep down that for once, you're right where you need to be.

Your path is not guided by a job. Something spinning inside your chest like the point of a compass, your fingers keying coordinates with a mind of their own.

It's not a sea. Not a desert. Not a growing town, slowly rebuilding.

You're taken to a forest. The trees are unlike those you've seen - stretching tall and thin towards the sky. Their leaves sparse, but still filling the space with the sheer number.

There's a village - but you're drawn away from the tall walls. There's nothing inside that you seek. Drawn back to the trees you had seen from above. There's no tracks for you to follow, it's only your own boots pressed into the earth.

But you still go out, day after day.

It's on the third day, as you sit by the edge of a clear, shallow pool, that you hear the crack of branches under boots.

It should frighten you… but it doesn't.

It feels like an inevitability.

Your head turns, and there's a man there. His limbs encased in armor of shining beskar. A Mandalorian, you realize, when your eyes meet the dark visor that bisects his helmet.

"It's you." The words are a flat buzz, through his helmet. Unsurprised, somehow. Just as you are.

And it's him.

There's something about him, this man.

Deep down, it feels as if a string is tied around something vital inside you. A piece of you that you cannot live without, twined with its match inside him. Like the path you've taken has always led to this moment, this meeting.

You're not sure what that something is...

But think you are finally ready to find out.

His touch is familiar, though you've never known it. Much like everything else, it feels almost destined.

You know he feels it too. A slow circling dance, the weight of his eyes following you from behind the visor. That string inside no longer feels like a leash, but instead - a lifeline.

Finally being able to acknowledge that he has been what you've been orbiting around this whole time. Easing that ever-present ache of loneliness that had always followed you.

For some time, he had thought you would be the one to train Grogu. That perhaps this had been the reason why the fates had pushed you together.

You had tried, and failed. That part of you still too raw, too unfashioned. It lived inside you, but it was something you had been unable to teach another. How could you, when you did not even know the word for what it was?

And as time passed, you realized deep down that you were truly meant to be here now. Not for the before.

An aid at first, of course. You had gone with him to Tython. Traded in your ship, and traveled on the Slave 1. Had faced death by his side, staring into the black chrome of the Dark Troopers.

Had grieved with him, after.

You think this had been your place all along.

This liminal space, in those months that follow.

Giving him something to grab onto. Fingers sinking into flesh, your back hitting the mattress as he follows.

It’s dark, in the belly of his ship. With anyone else your senses would be screaming, a ringing alarm.

But you’ve come to know each room, fingers tracing the cold metal. From the walls, to the bunk, to him - the tips slipping under to tug at the fastenings of his armor.

He is quiet, like he often is now. But you can feel the heat that rolls off him in waves. The harsh buzz of his breath through the vocoder, before the light cuts out completely.

Before it’s just him and you.

His knees nudge your thighs wider. Pressing into muscle and flesh, forcing them up and apart. Your fingers twist in his curls, angling your mouth up to meet the kiss that is all teeth and tongue.

Fingers dip down, thick and calloused. Parting you, nudging inside to where you’re wet and waiting. Pumping deep with his thumb pressed snug against the button of your clit - leaving you dizzy and clenching and wondering if he just knew, as well.

You think he did. He does.

And when he works himself inside you, you finally feel full. Ripping a sound from each of you - his rough and swallowed, yours a broken murmur of his name.

Something else given in the dark, on another night akin to this. Pieces of himself peeled back and gifted, only to be carefully wrapped up and buried deep.

The pound of his hips itches at something you’ve been missing. Those hands tugging at your hips, pulling you to meet each harsh thrust. Fingers slipping down to swirl against you again - a spark rising each time you fit together, building swiftly to an inferno.

“Din,” You breathe, as something heavy flickers inside you, just out of reach, “Stars, please. Don’t stop-”

“I won’t,” It’s a low oath, as his cock grinds deep, “I’ve waited too long for you, cyare.”

He wrenches it from you, setting you ablaze. Your is cry loud in the tiny room as you come undone. The wild swirl of your senses narrowing down, until it’s just him. Din’s mouth against your neck, warm breath and teeth nipping marks into your skin - the pleasure flowing from you in pulsing waves, sinking into him.

Making him follow, no more than a dozen thrusts later. A gritted, bitten-back moan of your own name, before his hips are stuttering. Giving back what you passed to him, his cock throbbing inside you, buried deep.

Where he stays, until he’s gone soft. A pang of loss shuddering through you when he slips from between your thighs - expecting him to return to his own bunk.

To leave you, again.

But the mattress dips, next to you. The space narrow, a short sigh when you wiggle too much trying to get comfortable. Hands hooking around your wrists, hauling your hips over his. Settling you down on top of him.

And in the dark - he stays.

“Should have met you on Tatooine,” Din tells you later that night, unbidden. Letting your legs twine with his, thighs parted to make room for you. “I didn’t know it was you. If I had-”

His words end abruptly, hanging. Both of you thinking about all those moments when time hadn’t lined up. The synchronicity of your movements, just barely nudged out of time.

Both there, during that same moment. If you had stayed another day, maybe that would have been your meeting.

But you had left early, and he had came late.

“We’re here now.” You tell him, chin pressing against his chest. Eyes finding his in the dark, though you cannot see. “Isn’t that enough?”

There’s the brush of his hand along your spine - knuckles, and then fingertips as they unfurl.

“Yes.”

It is enough, for now.

You’re not sure if it’s forever. If, for some reason, you’ll be forced to part again. But tonight, you’re not worried.

Because, if you were to reach inside yourself and pluck that golden string right now - letting it thrum…

You think that he would feel it, too.

thanks so much for reading!! 💖

cyare - beloved

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #ts drabble challenge #din djarin imagine

[repulsiveliquidation]

Crippled.

María León x Ingrid Engen x Reader [SMUT!]

the cutest duo am i right

word count : 2.6k

warnings : fluffy smut, bon appetit.

“Ready, mi amor?”

“Si, just let me get my bag.”

Mapi stood at the door with her kitbag, grabbing her keys when you walked up to her with your medical bag. You had just been announced as the head of the medical team for Barcelona Femeni and it was your first day. Your girlfriends recommended you to the board when you were helping Alexia with her ACL; the board decided to use your expertise on the team upon her recommendation and you got the job, moving on from your private practice.

You were a little nervous about the position; the team was made up of elite athletes that relied on you to keep them healthy and injury-free to be able to do their jobs the best they can. You had met them all, but since you’ve never cared for them except for Alexia, Mapi and Ingrid so you were scared that you would mess up and cost the team.

“I’m ready.” You tell her, smiling up at your girlfriend.

“The barça crest looks good on you.” She tells you proudly, holding the door open for you as you walked to her car.

“Please, you’ve seen it on me hundreds of times.”

“It’s one thing to see you in my jersey or Ingrid’s amor, never fails to make my heart go crazy.”

“I love you,” you tell her, blushing lightly when she opens your door for you; Ingrid already sitting inside.

“I love you too,” She whispers quietly, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

//

You walk to training together, they follow you into the medical room to introduce you to everyone and to get you settled. Ingrid kisses your head and Mapi kisses you before leaving, heading to training while you work up a health plan for each and every one of the players.

You come out to the pitch a while later to introduce yourself to the team which isn’t necessary since the girls are over at your house at least once a week anyway and you knew all of them well. They come over to say hello at a water break, Alexia gives you a hug when Mapi comes up from behind and hugs you as you talk to Irene, Patri and Ingrid.

“Go back to practice, clingy.”

“I wanna hang out with you.”

“We live in the same house, you will live without me for a bit. Go.”

“Asshole.”

“That is so sweet of you, love.”

She lets go and kisses your cheek before running back on the pitch with Ingrid following her. You speak with Jonatan for a bit to discuss how he wished to have the medical team at games and such. You go back inside after, waving to the girls.

Ingrid and Mapi find you in your office after training, freshly showered and ready to go home. You make them sit and wait a bit, finalizing a little work before shaking Mapi awake to go home. You drive, the two girls too tired as they both fall asleep on the way.

Mapi crashes on the couch snoring while Ingrid forces herself upstairs, you chuckle and clean out their kit bags and do a load of laundry before starting on dinner. Mapi wakes up when she smells the steak you’re cooking, trudging to the kitchen grumpily.

“Hello sleepy head.”

“Hola,” she grunts back, sitting on the counter and rubbing her eyes.

You hand her a bottle of water and force her to have half, knowing she was probably thirsty but too stubborn to drink water. She jumps off the counter and throws the finished bottle in the trash before standing behind you and hugging you like she did earlier. She kisses your neck softly, arms snaked under her hoodie you had on.

“Dinner will be ready in 5, baby.”

“I’ll set the table. You’re the best, you know that?”

“I know.”

She laughs and lets go, setting the table before calling for Ingrid. You walk in with three plates, putting theirs in front of them before sitting down with your own. Ingrid digs in, sighing when she takes a bite. You smile and watch her eating as you join her while Mapi scarfs down her food at lightning speed.

“You hungry?” you ask her teasingly, grinning when she looks up with a mouth full of food.

“You’re in the wrong profession bebé.”

“These hands save lives and feed them. I love both babe; it makes me happy to see you both and the girls enjoy my cooking. Besides, it helps me destress from work.”

//

“Y/N!”

You heard your name being called during a game against Real Madrid. You look up and grab your medical bag and rush onto the field without knowing which player you’re treating. When you get there, your heart nearly stops. It’s María, face wincing in pain.

“María? Talk to me love, what hurts?”

“What doesn’t?”

“Quit being a smartass, tell me what hurts!”

“Ankle, I think her studs caught it.”

You move lower and grasp her leg, examining her ankle. You twist it to see the reaction and she yells out. Ingrid is kneeling by her head and stroking her hair, whispering softly to her to calm her down. You carefully pull her boot off followed by her sock, her ankle already starting to bruise.

“She’s out, she can’t play like this.”

“I can, just need a minute.”

“You will not, I’m pulling you off.”

The tone you used got her to stop arguing, you motioned for the stretcher to haul her off the pitch. Ona was already warmed up and ready to go, taking her spot in the game while you tended to Maria.

She sat in the examination room quietly as you iced her ankle and taped her up. She winced and whined which you promptly ignored, knowing she would complain about it after. You helped her back to the benches to watch the rest of the game, keeping her leg elevated and thoroughly iced.

“Are you okay, elskling?” asked Ingrid after the game, helping María into the car after she showered and changed, both of them positively excited by the win.

“Yes but no one has kissed it better yet.” She replies with a pout, you roll your eyes at her as you put their bags in the back with yours.

“Our Y/N didn’t kiss it better? What kind of doctor are you?” Ingrid accused you, Mapi nodding deftly with her. You chuckle and look at both of them in disbelief, hopping into the driver’s seat. Mapi was in the back with her leg across the backseat, Ingrid climbing into the passenger seat grinning.

“I did my job, I will not coddle you María.”

“I am your girlfriend, the contract says you must coddle me.”

“Are you in any pain?”

“No.”

“Any discomfort?”

“Not really.”

“Can you put pressure on your leg despite it being black and blue?”

“Yes, it’s perfectly wrapped.”

“Then I did my job.”

She huffs, crossing her arms and pouting.

“Fine, I will kiss it better when we get home.”

“You big softy.”

“Your leg is about to be even worse, María.”

//

“Y/N!”

“Yes?”

“Can you help me?”

You walk into the living room to find Mapi reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table. Ingrid is sitting there with a book, apparently ignoring Mapi.

“I can’t reach the remote.”

“Why did you call me when she’s literally sitting right there? I’ve got food on the stove!”

“She’s ignoring me.”

“And why is that, love?”

“I threw her book across the room when she didn’t want to cuddle me.”

“Sounds like you deserve it then.”

“I am injured! You’re both supposed to pity me! Baby me!”

“You don’t throw your girlfriends book across the room when she tries to read!”

“And you don’t call her a hundred and one times just to get you the remote!”

María leaned forward and managed to grab the remote, grinning up at you proudly.

“Got it! Sorry babe, don’t need you after all!”

“Call me one more time María León and I will make sure you never walk again.”

She cowers, turning on the tv and watching it till dinner time. You bring dinner to the both of them and enjoy a little tv along with it. Ingrid cleans up and comes back to cuddle you, pulling you into her arms as her hands thread through her hair. You scoot Mapi up between your legs gently, braiding her hair into small locks. Suddenly she speaks up, looking at the both of you propped up on her elbow.

“I’m sorry I annoyed the both of you today. I just wanted your attention but I guess I just didn’t know how to say it without sounding pathetic.”

Both you and Ingrid sit up and look at each other in shock. Mapi sat herself up too, Ingrid and you moving around to kneel before her. She looks at her hands, picking at a hangnail.

“Darling, you never have to do that to get our attention. You just have to ask us, we’ll both drop everything for you.”

“You’ll never sound pathetic for asking us to love on you mi amor, that’s what we’re here for! You deserve it, you never have to hide it bebé.”

She smiles, biting her lip. You lean in and kiss her, gently caressing her leg. Ingrid moves behind her, kissing down her neck and rubbing her arms. Mapi moans into the kiss, hands flailing between you and Ingrid, unsure of what to do.

You lean over and kiss Ingrid over Mapi’s shoulder as she watches, eyes wide. Nothing turns her on more than seeing both her girlfriends making out. Ingrid takes the lead in the kiss, cradling your head how she wants, obviously licking into your mouth as your tongues taste each other. Mapi outwardly moans, which makes the both of you pull away slowly.

“Wanna join us upstairs, cariño?”

“Upstair­–I am a CRIPPLE!”

“Just joking, hold on.”

You pick her up easily, leading the way up to your bedroom. Mapi leans into your neck and kisses you, biting down softly. You gently set her on the bed, stripping her of her clothes. Ingrid suddenly pulls you into her, kissing you hotly as she makes Mapi watch. She makes a show of groping and caressing you, your hands tangled in her messy hair. She moans when you tug, pulling away to attach your mouth to her unmarked neck. She keens, holding onto you as you bite and suck. Mapi is touching herself, hand dipped between her legs as she noisily gets wetter and wetter.

“Enjoying the show?” Ingrid asks her, hands beginning to pull off your clothes sensually. Mapi watched with dark eyes, slipping a finger into herself as you swayed your hips and kissed lower down Ingrid’s body. You did the same to her, pulling off her clothing and tossing them about the room. Mapi moaned loudly when you kneeled before Ingrid and kissed between her legs. You pulled her underwear down and leaned in, kissing her barely peeking clit. You spread her a little and feasted, licking and sucking on her as she pulled your hair and keened. Mapi had two long fingers inside her now, the wet sounds coming from both sides of the room as you aided each other in getting off. Ingrid pushes you to kneel before the bed, leaning back for her to ride your face. You let her get comfortable before she pulls your hair back and grinds herself down on your face. Your nose devotes itself to grazing her clit as your tongue sticks out for her to sink herself on. She groans and looks up to see Mapi panting and fingering herself, eyes focused on the scene in front of her.

Ingrid pulls away just before she cums, leaning in to give you a searing kiss. She groans and pulls your face into hers when she tastes herself so potently on your tongue. Mapi screams incoherent Spanish, cumming hard from the erotic live show she’s got to give herself mind-numbing pleasure.

The two of you grin and climb onto the bed to kiss her, lips locked in a hot three-way lip-smacking fight for dominance. Mapi comes out of top, pulling the both of you off her to make out for her to watch briefly. She smirks at you and kisses both of you separately, giving it to both of you how you like it.

“Grab my strap for me, darling.” Mapi tells you, you hop off the bed and do what she asks while Ingrid checks on her leg. It’s been a couple days and she’s really resting just as precaution, but the two of you worry about her anyway.  

Ingrid helps her put it on, while you sit at the foot of the bed and watch. Mapi strokes it briefly before looking at you, gesturing you to come to her. You crawl to her slowly, swaying your hips just to tease. She smirks and waits patiently, pulling you to straddle her hips. The strap pokes your inner thigh when you sit on her, Ingrid leaning in to kiss you softly as Mapi caresses your thighs.

“Want you to ride me, niña.”

You whine and sit up, arousal becoming more evident when her hand slips between your legs and pulls away soaked. No one had touched you at this point, your pent-up arousal pooling generously in your cunt.

“No need for lube, wanna see you sit on my cock angel, come on.”

You listen, holding her cock steady for you to sink down onto it. You whine and shudder as it fills you, the stretch pleasant and painful at the same time. It was soul-snatchingly addicting. You bounced a little, testing the waters. Ingrid kissed you and slowly rubbed your clit, Mapi’s hands caressed your thighs and hips, softly encouraging you as you took more and more of her cock.

Finally, fully speared on her, you slowly rode her cock; moaning loudly when she gave your ass a couple hard smacks. Ingrid moved to ride her face, facing you to lean in and make out. It was pleasurable for all of you, your hands held Ingrid’s as she cupped your cheeks and kissed you harder. Mapi was devouring her pussy, noisy slurps filled the room as it blended with the slick sounds between your legs. You cried out her name when her cock grazed your spot, angling your hips to hit it each time you sank down on her. It made your head spin; her cock filled you deep and full.

Ingrid was also panting now, your hands groping at her breasts as she resumed circling her fingers over your swollen clit. Everyone was close, orgasms right there ready for us to grasp. You were riding Mapi harder now, bouncing on her thick cock, desperately pleading to cum. Ingrid was the same, grinding down on her face while reached back to pull on her hair.

You grabbed Ingrid’s face when you came, kissing her fervently as she came right after you. Mapi too reached her peak for the second time that night, chin wet with a fucked-out smile on her face.

//

“All healed now, Maps?” Ona asked her as you all got on the plane to travel to Frankfurt.

“Yes, I am fit as a fiddle. Did you know that sex is the best medicine?”

“I will injure you again, María. I may heal people for a living, but remember; I know how to undo the healing and that is a promise.” You told her, the whole plane laughing when the defender cowered into her seat and tried to hide behind Lucy as you and Ingrid gave her the death stare.

#mapi león #ingrid engen #mapi león x ingrid engen #mapi león x reader #ingrid engen x reader #woso smut #woso #woso soccer #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #fc barca femeni #fcb femeni #fc barcelona femeni #fluffy smut

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Know thy enemy

“Enemy fleet exiting jump now.” The tactical officer called out.

Admiral Haru nodded at the confirmation and switched the holographic projection to a live feed.

Bright pinpricks of light flickered in and out showcasing the enemy ships exiting their jump points. On the side of the screen the tracking software updated itself with each new ship, tracking and marking their current locations. The current count was at one hundred ships and increasing steadily.

“I recommend a withdrawal.”

Haru turned from the display to see his alien counterpart fleet master Wrang standing next to him. The translator unit was doing its best to interpret his species speech patterns, but it couldn’t fully remove the high pitched screeching.

“I assure you that we are in no danger of losing this engagement.” Haru replied even as the number of enemy ships continued rising.

“They outnumber us three to one.” Wrang pointed out. “We can not form a battle line against such numbers.”

It was true that the tracking software was not up to three hundred ships but thankfully the lights from jump exits were dwindling more and more. Haru wagered the majority of the enemy had arrived and any stragglers would be petering out soon.

As if to confirm his sentiments the enemy fleet began dispersing itself, morphing from a rough sphere of ships to a well-organized battle line. The heavier battleships and cruisers taking up position behind a screen of frigate and destroyer class vessels. Their sleek polished hulls reflecting a mixture of greens and oranges, with the crest of the Vulzon Theocracy proudly painted on the front of each ship.

“Numbers are not always the key to victory.” Haru remarked as the communication officer called out to the admiral.

“We have an incoming communication from the Vulzon flagship.”

“Begin a trace on the link and pass along their location to the gun batteries for targeting.” Haru said as he sat down on his command throne. He straightened his uniform and smoothed over several creases before nodding to the waiting communication officer.

The holographic projection flickered for a moment before switching from a view of the enemy fleet to a view of the Vulzon command bridge. There, standing in front of his command throne with one hand resting on his viper blade and the other behind his back, stood Haru’s adversary.

Tatiman; war chief of the eternal rage.

“We meet again,” Tatiman spoke through sharpened teeth,” little human.”

Haru said nothing and so the war chief continued.

“I must admit, I am surprised you stayed to fight.” Tatiman chuckled. “I had expected your kind to run and h-“

Haru motioned a hand across his throat and the communication officer cut the communication.

“Why did you do that?” Wrang asked; both deeply confused and troubled by the human’s actions.

It was true his government had relinquished control of their fleet to human control for the duration of the crisis, but he was also instructed to rescind that order and regain control of their forces. Humans were still unknown in the galaxy, making them an unknown and potential risk. A risk Haru seemed to be confirming right now.

“He’ll call back.” Haru remarked as he rested his hand on his chin and smiled.

No sooner had the words left his mouth did the communication officer speak up again.

“From their command ship again, Admiral.”

Haru listened to the chiming noise to indicate an incoming transmission but sat passively in his throne. A minute passed and the communications officer was about to ask again when Haru waved him to open the link.

Once again Tatiman was on screen aboard his command bridge, though looking substantially angrier than before.

“I am trying to be diplomatic,” Tatiman said through clenched teeth, “and you dare insult my-“

Again Haru swiped his hand across his throat and the communication was terminated.

“Do you have a death wish?” Wrang asked as he began to sweat.

“Hardly,” Haru grinned, “there’s a new episode of battle base five airing in two days and I will be damned if I will be killed before finding out which cyborg gave birth to Maria.”

At a loss for words at the entirety of the admiral’s statement Wrang just stood there with his mouth hanging open as yet another communication chime came in.

This time Haru answered it immediately rather than waiting and the link was established again.

Tatiman was now far beyond anger. Behind him one of the arms of his command throne was sparking erratically and Wrang imagined that the war chief had struck it after the second transmission was terminated.

“I will rip the eyes from your sockets, and make you watch as I strangle the life from your frail body!” Tatiman shouted. The loud shout startled several of the human crew but Wrang saw nothing of the same on the admiral’s face who yawned loudly.

“Listen, taint,” Haru began as he lazily slouched in his throne, “as much as I love your boastings I am with a friendly delegate and my time is short; so would you be a dear and surrender already?”

Wrang couldn’t describe the colors Tatiman went through as he stuttered words of rage. His eyes were wide and focused with a killers gaze while Haru yawned again and made the swipe motion to terminate the transmission.

“I hope you have a plan,” Wrang began as the entire Vulzon fleet appeared to power their engines and begin rushing towards them, “as you may have just killed us all.”

“Fleet wide transmission, now.” Haru ordered crisply and the communication officer complied without question.

“This is Admiral Haru to all ships, activate targeting scramblers and launch full spread of chaff.”

Wrang watched as the holographic screen flickered for a moment as the scramblers activated while a barrage of chaff missiles were launched. The first Vulzon energy lances began hammering the ships shields as the chaff missiles exploded. The space between the two fleets suddenly was filled with a thick cloud of white particles as if a bell had just been dropped in a dusty foundry.

“That tactic will only delay them.” Wrang remarked as the energy lances suddenly lost accuracy. Energy lances passed their ships harmlessly as the chaff interfered with the Vulzon targeting locks. “Even with scramblers and chaff it won’t be enough; they will be switching to visual targeting now.”

“I’m counting on it.” Was all Haru replied as the energy lances began finding their marks again. “By now every gunner and commander in their fleet is looking out a window or view screen to watch us.”

A shudder through the ship made Wrang wobble on his feet for a heartbeat before he regained his footing. Warning icons were flashing now across the view screen as energy spikes from the shields were beginning to ravage the human flagship.

“Why are we not returning fire!?” Wrang demanded as another shudder sent him to his knees.

“I’m waiting.” Haru remarked as he watched the view screen. The enemy icons had cross half the distance between the fleets and had now entered within the chaff cloud.

“For what!?”

“For this moment.” Haru said with a smile.

“All ships, all ships; fire Cheshire rounds now.”

Before Wrang could ask what a Cheshire round was the view screen lit up as every cannon amongst their fleet fired at the same time.

Wrang watched the Vulzon ships to see how many would explode, but was surprised when a second cloud of bright purple appeared.

“This was your secret weapon?” Wrang shouted. “You launch colored dust while they slaughter us?!”

Haru held up a finger to silence Wrang and said nothing else. So infuriated was the fleet master he was on the verge of ordering his people’s ships to retreat when he noticed something.

The ship had stopped shuddering.

Turning back to the view screen Wrang was astonished to see that every ship in the Vulzon fleet had ceased firing. They were still hurtling towards them but otherwise their guns had fallen silent.

“Admiral to fleet, disperse formation to avoid incoming vessels and prepare full barrage as they pass by.” Haru sounded off.

The fleet began to spread apart just in time as the first Vulzon ships began flying through their line. Some Vulzon ships passing close enough an engineer could reach out and scrape the Vulzon paintwork with a wrench but thankfully no collisions were reported.

“Fleet maneuver completed and all ships confirm they are ready to fire.” The tactical officer sounded off.

“Open fire.” Haru spoke as he watched the Vulzon flagship pass by before being hammered by a full broadside of energy batteries.

The shields flickered then collapsed in an instant under such a close bombardment. Wrang watched as the delicate paint work was burnt away as hull punctures riddled the entire ship from stem to stern.

All along the entire line human vessels were firing at near point blank range causing horrific damage to the Vulzon fleet which was still passing by without retaliating.

“What did you do?” Wrang asked softly. He had never seen a Vulzon fleet be destroyed so utterly and in such a manner that it defied all reason.

Haru rested his chin on his hand again and watched as the Vulzon flagship detonated under the latest salvo.

“Did you know that the Vulzon have very unique eyes?” he asked the fleet master. When Wrang shook his head he continued.

“They can see spectrums of light and energy well beyond what our human eyes can see, but that also makes them incredibly sensitive to certain things; things that can trigger violent and sometimes fatal physical bodily reactions.”

Haru looked at Wrang, but when he saw the fleet master still struggling to put the pieces together he decided to spell out his plan entirely.

“The color purple,” Haru stated as he pointed to the dissipating cloud of the color, “has been known to trigger a form of cardiac arrest if observed during moments of intense stress for Vulzon’s.”

“So,” Wrang began as he puzzled together Haru’s plan, “when you fired those Cheshire rounds you gave them…”

“-a form of mass seizure.” Haru finished.

He stood up from his command throne and walked over to the tactical display. “Vulzon are a dedicated military race with a strong sense of loyalty to their commander.” Haru began. “But this means that they also emulate their commander in all things. Dress code, discipline, mental state, etc.”

“So when you made Tatiman angry, they all emulated him and became angry as well.” Wrang put together.

“Exactly.” Haru nodded. “So when they saw the purple color they were all in a state of pure rage and anger, making the cardiac arrest they would normally experience that much more effective.”

“But they would know of their weakness.” Wrang countered. “Their sensors and displays would be programmed to remove the color from their screens to prevent that.”

“Unless they were scrambled and the Vulzon were forced to rely on visual confirmation.”

Suddenly the scramblers and chaff made sense. The human admiral had not deployed them to hamper the Vulzon weapon locks, but to force them into a situation that would expose them to their weakness without them even knowing.

“The benefit of making an enemy mad is that they tend to fail at thinking beyond the current moment.” Haru finished as he flicked a speck of dust off his uniform. “They don’t see the knife until it’s embedded in their chest.”

He pointed to the last of the Vulzon ships to pass between their fleet still steaming ahead with no regard for their own safety. A few had suddenly began to maneuver in different directions and Haru pointed them out specifically.

“Inform the fleet to focus on any ship not moving in a straight line first before others, regardless of class.”

The communication officer nodded and relayed the message. When he turned and saw Wrang looking confused.

“I imagine that by now someone must have gotten to the bridge to find their captain is dead along with most of their command staff and tried to steer the ship to safety.”

“I applaud you for your thoroughness.” Wrang bowed. “You are much wiser in the ways of war than I had expected.”

Haru smiled and returned the bow. “There’s an old terran saying that has defined my career.”

“To defeat your enemy, you must know your enemy.

#humans are insane #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #scifi #story #writing #original writing #niqhtlord01 #action #space battle