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#sleepy but writing
novelbear · 2 months
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the sweet, early morning things ☀️
prompt list by @novelbear
"good morning, love."
sleepy, playful smiles as they both take in eachothers messy morning appearance
"you look your cutest like this." "but i just woke up." "i know what i said."
snuggling into the others neck to shield their eyes from the sunlight
gently brushing hair out of their face
peppering small kisses all over their face to wake them
"your morning voice is so hot." [laughs] "what?"
waking up a little earlier than usual, meaning they get the luxury of snuggling further into their blankets and lover to go back to sleep.
kisses, even while still half-asleep
"are you awake yet?" "no." "oh, okay sorry."
accidentally falling back asleep, too entangled and comfortable in one another's warmth.
"i'll go make us coffee." "sounds good."
"i made breakfast." "i love you."
caressing the other's cheek softly, hoping to wake them up that way
"waking up next to you is my favorite thing."
sitting in a comfortable silence, arms wrapped around eachother, trying to wake up.
gently fixing their hair once they finally sit up
taking ten minutes to stop snuggling while laying down, then spend another ten cuddling whilst sitting up.
playfully shying away from them because of their "morning breath"
noticing the indented marks left on their face from the pillow or however they were laying
^ "did you sleep well?" "mhm.." [tracing the mark with their hand] "i can tell."
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Roommate!Simon who finds you fast asleep on the couch when he comes home after a mission. He gently enters your shared apartment, momentarily freezing when he hears the faint buzz of the TV and occasional small sighs.
Roommate!Simon who can't stop a smile from spreading on his face when he sees the inhumane position you fell asleep in, one leg thrown over the couch, the other partially covered by a blanket and your head hanging down in a position that's guaranteed to give you neck pains for the days to come.
Roommate!Simon who takes off his mask, gloves and tactical gear before gently lifting you in his arms and cradling your sleeping form to his chest, relishing in the rhythmic sound of your heartbeats.
Roommate!Simon whose heart skips a beat when you cuddle up into his chest, murmuring a sleepy welcome with your eyes still closed.
Roommate!Simon who eventually has to place you in your bed and tuck you in, a tender expression on his face as he watches you drift off to sleep in an instant.
part two part three part four masterlist
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sleepywriter00 · 1 month
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Feel free to use my lovelies!!!
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sleepy-writes-stuff · 22 days
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DP X DC PROMPT #24
Been a while since I wrote a prompt. Let's change that!
Pen Pals
Red Hood comes across Cujo somewhere in Gotham (location and reason like feeding off of ambient ectoplasm, looking for a new toy, lost, etc are your choice). At first, he's kinda freaked out over this pup that glows Lazarus Pits green but slowly learns that Cujo is relatively harmless as long as no one threatens him or anyone under his protection. Kinda hard not to learn that since Cujo has been glued to his side ever since he found the pup roaming the streets at night.
Cujo eventually gets into Red Hood's good books when the sweet little pup turns into a rottweiler the size of a small house and nearly bites the Joker's head off due to him being his usual creepy, rancid self.
Once he's gotten comfortable enough around the strange dog, he gets close enough to spot a tag/nameplate that reads the pup's name along with "Belongs to Phantom" scratched onto the back in messy handwriting.
He thinks nothing of it until Cujo starts getting restless and Red Hood gets the feeling that he'll be leaving Gotham soon. So, given the dog is clearly supernatural and his tag had no contact information, he assumes Cujo is basically a free roam pet and is able to get back to his owner on his own.
The night before he feels Cujo is going to leave, he ties a letter to the pup's collar. The next night, Cujo is gone.
Weeks pass and he thinks of Cujo often, wondering if he made it back to his owner. If his owner got the letter. If this "Phantom" is similar to him. He doesn't think just anyone owns a Lazarus green dog that reeks of death magic.
It's not until he's out on patrol one night, almost two months later, that Cujo suddenly appears and barrels into his stomach. As the excitable pup slobbers kisses all over his helmet, he sees an envelope covered in stickers attached to Cujo's collar.
Looks like he's got himself a pen pal.
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medusas-graveyard · 4 months
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Someone you used to know.
Concept:
an AU where after Danny's parents find out the truth about his biology, they turn their weapons against him; affectively leaving him no choice but to run away. There was no longer a 'Daniel James Fenton'; a child long dead after he was killed via electrocution. He cuts contact with everyone— and I mean everyone; only the god of time knows where he is. He turns to Gotham to start a new life there; under the guise of 'Danyal Nightingale', a homeless kid in crime alley, under the protection of the sentient city herself.
Enter: Bruce Wayne.
Bruce Wayne was quite the enigma to him. The teen basically knew everything about self defense, but Bruce is rich rich; Danny can't really understand why he would need to be athletic as shit for "self defense" when he's pretty sure he could've just hire mercenary level bodyguards. But he doesn't pry on it too much; because Danny understands that somethings are better to not poke around at.
They both grew up. Danny still couldn't understand Bruce. They grew closer, yes; but Bruce would literally... disappear. Like— for long amounts of time. He would ask Alfred for his whereabouts, but the butler simply shook his head, insisting that Bruce would be fine.
And he was right, technically.
The (now pretty grown) man would always come back, even if he was battered and bruised. He would wave off his best friend's worries with "I'm fine"s and "stop worrying"s that just fueled his distaste about Bruce leaving.
And then Bruce left, again.
While he was slightly annoyed by Bruce's constant disappearance, he can't help but just sigh in resignation at the hard headed billionaire. Bruce will come back.... eventually, at least.
He was right; Bruce did come back.
But he didn't.
He couldn't.
He was trapped inside a neverending nightmare.
Because they found him.
Years pass by and his whole body felt numb, numb, numb. He's always either strapped inside a straight jacket in an empty room or torn open like a frog in biology class, on top of a surgery table. He doesn't remember how to speak, what he sounded like, what food tasted like— how it felt to move freely. Because all he could do over the past years (decade?) Is silently take the torture if simply existing.
On a good day, they would let him dream. He dreamt of talking, hyperfixating about stars and Greek mythology— he dreamt of playing tag and cooking messily in a kitchen; all with a boy and older man whose face he doesn't remember. On those days his life felt a little more bearable; like it gives him the motivation to just exist.
"... there's no way you're named after a bird."
"....ne. What's yours?"
"Danny is a nice name."
"Hey, wh— HEY! Get down from there!"
"Don't be such a worrywart. I'll see you soon, Danny."
".....Danny"
".....Danny!"
"Danny....?"
His dazed eyes weakly focused on the familiar voice calling his name; the sight of a dark figure by the lab door greets his line of sight.
He's strapped on the table; chest still wide open as the figure rushes over him. He could hear their heart rattling inside their ribcage and their heaving breaths.
....no. this is all just a dream.
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mizaruwu · 18 days
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"Here's the coffee you wanted– ah, guess it was about time you dozed off Mr.- I-don't-need-rest"
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hier--soir · 8 months
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sleepy
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pairing: joel miller x f!reader summary: joel is out like a light, but you can only think of one thing that will help you fall asleep. warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] established relationship, f!masturbation, masturbating next to sleeping partner, unprotected piv, cockwarming, mild dirty talk, soft joel. word count: 2.7k a/n: this one is for the folks with sleep problems lmao. hope you guys enjoy—any feedback is appreciated!
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Your bedroom was pitch-black, the curtains drawn to protect against any slivers of light shining in and disturbing either of you in the morning. Rain pattered softly against the roof, comforting you as you lay awake in the darkness.
Joel was dead asleep beside you.
His bare chest rose and fell with rhythmic deep breaths, soft lips parted to allow quiet snores to escape. After an hour or so your eyes had adjusted to the dark, and you were able to make out the fuzzy outline of his face and body, the way his forehead had smoothed out in his sleep, and how his hair pressed against his forehead from being shoved into the pillow.
It was something you’d never understood—the way most men could simply close their eyes and drift into sleep within minutes. Every man you’d ever dated, slept with, or even slept in the same room as; they were all the same. A few minutes of silence before their breathing evened out into soft snores, body relaxing into the mattress as they disappeared into dreamland. It wasn’t fair.
You’d struggled with sleep since you were a teenager. No matter how busy your days were, or how much physical labour you undertook, your mind whirred at night, endlessly awake until you’d exhausted all avenues of thought, and you’d wake the next morning with no recollection of ever falling asleep.
And when you’d first met Joel, you’d discovered it was much the same for him. Fierce nightmares plagued him at night, terrified him out of falling asleep until he physically couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, only to fitfully rouse him at multiple points throughout the evening. But as your relationship grew over the years, the pair of you settled. You got comfortable, and suddenly all it took was wrapping your arms around one another and you could both pass out with a snap of your fingers.
But on days like this—ones where you’d wiled the hours away reading and doing laundry and eating your meals alone and being terribly fucking bored—you felt old habits rear their ugly head, as you laid down for bed and found yourself wide awake. And yet you couldn’t be mad at him, didn’t even contemplate frustration or jealousy, because his day had been vastly different to yours.
When you’d woken up that morning to find his side of the bed empty, the cold sheets signalled that he’d risen far earlier than you. A note left on the kitchen counter told you that he’d been called out to fill a patrol spot for someone who was under the weather, and that he wouldn’t be home until late. It wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary for him to do favours like that for people, and so you’d gone about your day as usual, performing mundane tasks and chores, milling about with no real goals set for yourself.
And when he did get home, well after sunset, he looked worse for wear. Sodden clothes stuck to his skin as he kicked off waterlogged boots, mumbling under his breath about needing to trade for some thicker socks. It had been raining for hours. What started with soft spitting in the early afternoon had quickly turned into a thunderstorm, and Joel and Tommy had been caught in the thick of it all evening. Fat droplets of cold water oozed out of his hair and rolled down his face, slipping under the collar of his shirt to send shivers down his spine.
He looked positively miserable as he shed the soaked layers by the door, impervious to the sympathetic look you were offering from the couch. Only when he was down to his underwear and t-shirt did he spare a glance in your direction, gaze softening.
“Long day?” you asked softly.
“Long day,” he confirmed, not making a move to come any closer, lest he get any of the rainwater on you.
“Tell me about it,” you prompted, padding across the room to him.
“I’d rather hear about yours,” he retorted earnestly, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your cheek.
And so you led him up the stairs and into the bathroom, detailing how you’d managed to get their washing done before the rain properly set in. And as he stepped under the warm spray of the shower, you told him about Ellie stopping by for a movie in the afternoon.
He hummed to signal that he was listening, but you could see how the day hung heavy on his shoulders. His head slumped forward under the stream, thick steam filling the air as he lazily rubbed a bar of soap along his skin with one hand and brushed his teeth with the other.
“Sounds like a nice day,” Joel smiled as he shut off the water, stepping out into a towel you had ready for him. You nodded, feeling somewhat guilty that he’d listened all about it, knowing his had been the complete opposite.
But he didn’t seem bothered, herding you towards the bedroom where he pulled you underneath the covers, pressing a few soft kisses to your cheeks before he relaxed back into his pillow. Cue: a few brief minutes of silence, breaths growing heavier, and then snoring. And god he deserved it. You watched him for a while, smiling softly at the sight of the man you loved so dearly, your life partner through thick and thin, getting the rest he so needed.
It was lovely… for the first thirty minutes. And then an hour passed. And then it got closer to two hours, and you could hear the leaky shower faucet dripping from down the hall, and the trees rustling against the side of the house, and you were so fucking awake.
The thought flashed through your mind, as it always did when you couldn’t sleep.
Maybe if you just….
Having an orgasm was the only thing you could think of that might tire you out enough to have you falling asleep in seconds. The way the muscles in your arm would get sore, and your entire body would go from tense to lax within minutes. It was enough to have warmth flood your bones and dopamine zap through your brain – and would definitely put you to sleep in a heartbeat. You felt guilty, though, as you contemplated it. Masturbating in front of Joel was common, and was something he often encouraged during sex, dragging your hand between your thighs and encouraging you to touch yourself while he got undressed. But doing it while he was asleep beside you was territory you’d never dipped your toe into before.
Is this perverse? Am I being creepy? What if he wakes up and is horrified?
Well, you told yourself. You just have to make sure that he doesn’t wake up.
Slowly, so as not to disturb the blankets too much, you slid your palm across your stomach until your fingers cupped your sex over your underwear. You stroked your fingers across the material, teasing yourself a little, trying to inspire some kind of horniness. And after a few minutes of gentle touching you could feel a warmth brewing in your stomach, a desire.
Carefully, you tugged your underwear down your legs before swiping your tongue across your middle and ring finger, lubricating them before you pressed them between your folds. You swiped at your entrance, collecting the small amount of slick that had formed there and spreading it across your core. A soft puff of air left your mouth as your fingertips connected with your clit for the first time, thighs tensing as you circled over it with fierce precision. This wasn’t about fun and games or prolonging the experience – this was about finishing as fast and as quietly as possible, and then going the fuck to sleep.
You took care not to move your arm too quickly, tensing your bicep to keep it still while your fingers circled and stroked and flicked against your clit, trying to find the perfect rhythm. A slow tightening began to build in your lower stomach as you discovered the right spot, the right speed, and you quickly pushed a finger inside yourself, collecting more of your slick before returning to your now aching bundle of nerves, the added lubrication making it easier to move.
A harsh exhale to your right made you pause for a moment, limbs stiffening as you waited to see if Joel had woken up. But a moment later his breathing steadied, and you relaxed, fingers continuing their quick movements.
Your forearm burned, muscles tensing with the struggle of keeping still but also providing enough friction to bring you to the edge. And as you felt your high approaching, you struggled to keep your breathing quiet, as heavy, laboured exhales forced themselves past your chapped lips. With your blood rushing in your ears and your middle finger drawing figure eights against your sensitive clit, you could feel it. You were so close, so fucking close, just five more secon—
“What are you doin’?”
The words were accompanied by a warm hand landing on top of your own, long fingers hovering over yours to see if he was correct; if you were touching yourself. A short gasp of surprise left you and your fingers froze, orgasm slinking away, disappearing from reach. Fuck.
“Shit, sorry,” you mumbled breathlessly, a little embarrassed to have been caught. “I can’t sleep and it’s been hours, and m’just trying to make myself sleepy, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologise.” Joel’s voice was rough and gravelly from sleep, and you bit back a whimper at the sound of it, fingers twitching against your pulsing centre. He moved on the bed, shifting closer so you could feel the warmth of his chest against your side. “Should’ve woken me up baby, would’ve helped tire you out.”
As he spoke, his hand tightened over yours, pushing your fingers to continue moving. Shyly, you began to circle your clit again, attempting to make out his expression through the darkness. For a moment, you swore you could see him grinning.
“You had a bad day,” you whispered raggedly. “Need the rest, I—fuck—didn’t mean to w-wake you.”
While you chattered away, a thick finger dipped into your folds, stroking against the pool of wetness that rested at your entrance. Your fingers sped up, the warmth of his body helping you chase the high you’d come so agonisingly close to. He exhaled heavily, forehead dropping against your shoulder.
“Christ,” he sounded pained. “You’re fucking—soaked. Were you thinkin’ ‘bout me?”
“Wasn’t thinking about anything,” you murmured honestly. “Just—ungh—just wanted to come, knew it’d help me fall asleep.”
“Poor baby,” he tutted, nosing at the side of your neck. “Need somethin’ to come on, hmm? Is that it?”
“Yes,” you mewled, hips shifting desperately upward into your hand now that you weren’t afraid of your movements waking him up. He dragged his hand away from you, using it to remove his underwear and then you could feel him against your hip, solid and hot and throbbing. He must have been listening for a moment, hearing you work yourself up. Your mouth went dry, stomach tensing at the feeling of him.
“Yes what, honey?”
“Need something to come on,” you repeated his words, grateful that he couldn’t see the sheer desperation on your face in the darkness.
A strong hand gripped your hip, gently pushing your body until you were laying on your left side and facing the wall. And then he was there, hot chest pressing against your back, lips dragging along the shell of your ear as he manoeuvred your legs into the best position for him to drag the aching tip of his cock through your drenched folds.
He exhaled heavily at the feeling, taking a moment to lube himself up with your slick before notching his head at your entrance. Your fingers were still against your clit, eyes closed as you waited for him to press in.
One arm slithered underneath your head, wrapping around your shoulders to hold you firmly against his chest and allow you to rest the side of your head on his bicep. His other hand held you still, fingertips pushing into your flesh as he flexed his hips, dragging his cock halfway into you. You gasped, pushing your ass back into him, mumbling some nonsense under your breath like ineedyou and pleasejoel and fuck.
He tried to control his breathing, but hot heavy puffs of air tickled the back of your neck as his pelvis came flush to the soft round of your ass, and then he was bottoming out, the full length of him slipping easily inside of you. A low moan dragged its way up your throat and you clutched deliriously at the arm around your torso, griding yourself back against him. But he didn’t budge an inch.
“Go on, baby,” Joel rasped against your ear. “Make yourself come.”
A soft cry of frustration left you, but your hand dropped between your thighs within a second. Your walls fluttered around him, squeezing his length as you began to rub your clit in soft, slow motions at first. He murmured quiet encouragements in your ear with that deep, coarse drawl that drove you crazy, his thumb rubbing against your waist as you rutted against him. He was heavy inside you, bringing a delicious burn to your cunt that you always loved, a beautiful medley of pleasure and pain that had you careening towards the orgasm that had dangled so painfully out of reach for however long.
Joel’s teeth nipped at the sensitive skin below your ear, no doubt leaving a mark as he licked and sucked over the sore spot he’d caused. You gasped at the sensation, tilting your chin up to give him better access to your neck. He squeezed your hip appreciatively, leaning closer to sponge messy kisses along your racing pulse point. Your fingers moved fast against yourself now, circling and rubbing messily, and unintentional moans were spilling from your lips as you felt the coil in your stomach start to draw tighter and tighter.
“Joel,” you choked, hips bucking relentlessly as you searched for more friction, but he still didn’t give you anything.
“C’mon,” he urged. “I know it feels so good, honey, keep goin’. You’re so close, I can—shit—I can feel it, c’mon now give it t’me.”
It didn’t take much more than that for you to start twitching, body convulsing against him as your orgasm tore through you. Your arm burned as you continued to rub your clit, fucking yourself through it as your walls clamped down around him.
He groaned softly in your ear, grip on your waist tightening just a fraction as he pressed forward, giving you a hint of a thrust to prolong your high. You cried out, mouth hanging open in elation as waves of pleasure rolled through you. It was euphoric, and exactly what you needed. Your hand stilled after a minute, and then you were simply rocking against him, riding out the aftershocks.
After a while, the ringing in your ears died down and pinpricks of feeling returned to your fingers as you released the death grip you had on his arm around you.
You slumped against him, the only tension remaining in your body being in your neck as you tried to keep your head up. Your eyelids had grown heavy, and you could feel your body relaxing into the post-orgasm haze that you’d been seeking so desperately.
“Good girl,” he murmured, lathing soft kisses against the edge of your jaw. “Feelin’ tired now?”
You hummed sleepily in response, walls fluttering around him. He let out a low groan but didn’t move.
“Sleep, darlin’,” he said quietly, arms tightening to keep your back flush to his chest.
You could feel how hard he still was, cock pulsing inside you every few moments. But his body was heavy, arms like lead draped over you, and his head had already dropped down to rest against the pillow again. He was exhausted.
“Can we stay like this?” you asked drowsily, shifting your hips to show what you meant.
Joel squeezed your hip in confirmation, and you murmured gratefully. His warmth shrouded your body, filling you up and enveloping you, keeping you safe as your muscles slackened entirely, chin dropping to your chest.
A soft, stilted thank you was the last thing you could muster before sleep clouded your brain and pulled you under. Finally.
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lioniheart · 11 months
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(It was based on a take I saw earlier today but I think it got deleted)
"Why don't you like me?" Steve asks, not meeting his eyes.
They were on the new Hopper-Byers's back porch, a little bit after dark. The rest of the party had gone inside a while ago but Steve wanted a smoke and Eddie decided to have one as well. It was quite chilly for a summer night, and the wind made both of them shiever a bit.
"Excuse me?!" Eddie replied, after a half a minute of confusion. "Who said I didn't like you?"
"C'mon, man, I know the kids say it a lot, but I'm not actually an idiot!"
"What the fuck are you talking about, princess?"
"See?! Right there! Look, I just don't get it. I know you overheard that conversation I had with Will last week, but I thought you were all for that non-conformist bullshit, and let me tell you, fucking with someone because of their sexuality is very "the man" of you!" His voice was still hushed, but Steve had turned all the way to Eddie's direction now, glaring at the metalhead with what he tried to make look like defiance on his eyes, but were clearly just hurt.
"Steve-"
"The thing is, you've been treating Will just like always, so maybe that isn't it, wich is so more confusing, because I really thought we were getting closer, but now you keep making these jokes and... I don't get it! Did I do something wrong?"
"What?! No--" the other tried to interrupt, but Steve's rambling just kept on coming.
"Is it because of high school? Is the ‘princess’ thing some kind of payback for the whole King Steve bullshit? Dude, I know I was a douchebag- hmpf!"
Eddie, sensing Steve was about to spiral, clasped his hand on top of the boy's mouth.
"Stevie, I'm going to need you to stop right there, okay?" His voice was calm, but his heart was racing. Steve's eyes were wide, his cheeks pink, and Eddie couldn't help but notice how much closer they were now. "I'm so sorry I made you feel like I was mocking you. That was definitely not the intention. The total opposite, actually.” Steve made a questioning noise behind the ringed hand “The princess thing was me being an idiot, actually. I was just..” Deep breath in, deep breath out. “I was trying to flirt with you, sweetheart. Apparently, I’m really bad at it.”
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lunarluvbot · 1 month
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saturday sun
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
pairing : percy jackson x fem!reader
summary : a little surprise percy springs on you turns out to be one of the best afternoons at camp. or maybe that's just because you're with him?
requested : yes / no
willow's whispers : first pjo writing cause everything i see is for luke so if you want something done right you gotta do it yourself !! also im pretty sure this can be read for any godly parent. based on the song saturday sun by vance joy. I WROTE THIS IN ONE SITTING SO YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO JUDGE HOW BAD OR SHORT IT IS. I'm building up for my big fics.
warnings : literally nothing this is the most boring fic ever
─── ・ ���゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
"Where are we going?" You laughed, blindly following Percy as he helped you over a fallen log.
"Oh, just somewhere you'll love," He said, and winked. "At least I hope you do. Anyways, c'mon!"
The pair of you marched through the woods of the camp, laughing, talking, teasing, and enjoying moments of silence. The sun blinked lazily between branches of giant pine trees as if Apollo was comfortably stretching out on his throne.
"Here, stop here." Percy turned to you and gave you that smile that made you fall in love a little more every time you saw it. If that was even possible. "There's a pathway over here, be careful 'cause there's a lotta rocks over here."
You followed him once again, down a narrow sloping hill and arrived on a shoreline. A small oasis even. It looked like it hadn't been touched in years, moss grew over everything, the grass was bright and stood tall as if no one's footsteps had ever crushed them down yet. Waves gently lapped the rocks and few shells scattered across the ground.
"Wow," You breathed, almost as if your normal volume would disturb this angelic peace. "When did you find this, Perce?"
Percy, who was flattening the weeds to sit on, looked up. "Huh? Oh, two days ago. During capture the flag. Then I came back yesterday to make sure some monster didn't live here and now I'm showing it to you," He finished setting up his bed that would make any Demeter kid cringe. "C'mere," Percy motioned for you to lay next to him.
You smiled and made your way over to him, easing yourself down on his patch of grass. The two of you were on your stomachs, watching the water swirl into memorizing, glittering, patterns. A sweet silence filled the air.
But the water wasn't what Percy was interested in. He just kept his eyes on you, admiring the way your face lit up when you heard your favorite bird call. The way your eyes seemed to shine in the golden god's light. The smooth curve of your lips that twitched when you smiled.
You met his eyes, the sea-green hue a painting of where the sky and the sea meet.
"Do I have something on my face?" You asked, lightly teasing him to pretend you weren't about to do the same staring as he was doing now.
Percy's eyes glinted and the wisps of his hair caught the sunlight perfectly. "No, you're just the prettiest girl I've ever seen. Art's gotta be appreciated right?"
"I guess but shouldn't I be asking you that?"
"Aw hey, quit stealing my line!" He said, poking your stomach. A giggle escaped you, one Percy knew he would fight any number of monsters to hear again.
"It's not your line! Where's your copyright claim?"
Instead of answering right away, Percy wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close. He tucked a fly-away strand of hair out of your face and pressed his lips gently to yours. It felt like the first breath of spring, when the flowers peek from their earthly shield and remind the world that only precious things take time.
"It's right here."
And he kisses you again.
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mcdynamite · 10 months
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Eddie always tries to be as quiet as he can when he gets home from late shifts at the bar – holding his keys tightly so they don’t jangle too much and avoiding turning on lights if he can help it. Steve is usually asleep by the time he makes it home smelling of greasy bar food and whatever beer blew its keg that evening all over his uniform tee, and Eddie hates waking him. His boyfriend doesn’t get much sleep as it is. The last thing he needs is for Eddie to come tumbling through the door and interrupting the precious few hours he gets every night.
So every time Eddie gets home from work in the earliest hours of the new day, he tries to be as quiet as possible.
And every time, Steve wakes up anyways.
Contrary to what most people might assume, it’s actually not Eddie’s fault that Steve can never sleep through his homecomings. (Years of living in a thin-walled trailer with a man who worked nights and slept during the days made him a master of moving stealthily through his home, after all.) It’s just that Steve Harrington is the lightest sleeper who’s ever lived.
According to Steve, he wasn’t always this way – he used to sleep through alarm clocks and his mother banging on his bedroom door to get him up for school, when he was younger. No, the light sleeper thing didn’t start until after Steve learned that monsters were real, and it only got worse after Upside Down Part 2: Electric Boogaloo, when suddenly he had a whole troupe of children to worry about all night. Every little creak of the floorboards could be a demogorgon, or a preteen in need of help fighting off a pack of demodogs. Faint police sirens in the distance could be headed to Steve’s house, where some uniformed cop would come knock on the door and tell him that something had happened to one of the kids.
It sounds like a nightmare, in Eddie’s opinion – not being able to sleep more than a handful of hours a night – but Steve always shrugs it off, like he’s already gotten so used to it that he hardly notices it anymore, and Eddie thinks that might be the case. It makes him feel horribly guilty (and maybe a little sad) whenever Eddie is the cause of Steve’s late-night wakefulness, but despite his desire for his boyfriend to get the sleep he needs, Eddie can never quite force himself to be too upset whenever Steve stirs as Eddie tiptoes into their shared bedroom.
Because sleepy Steve Harrington is, frankly, infuriatingly adorable, and tonight is no exception.
He hears, rather than sees, Steve wake up in the darkness of their room. It starts with a little snuffle, then a rustling of bedsheets, and finally – like always – a gravelly, endearingly hopeful, “Eds?”
Eddie’s heart warms in his chest, melting away the ice left there by a long shift dealing with drunk idiots and coworkers who would rather bitch about their jobs than actually do them. His job is exhausting at the best of times, and downright soul-sucking at the worst, but it’s okay, because at least at the end of the day, he gets to come home to this.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he sighs tiredly, ignoring the part of him that balks at being foiled again in his quest to let Steve get some sleep. Carefully, he toes off his shoes and makes his way to the edge of the bed so he can brush a few messy strands of hair from Steve’s forehead.
Steve instantly tilts his head to press into the touch, and Eddie can’t help but smile. “Wha’time s’it?” Steve slurs.
Eddie glances at the clock on their bedside table and nearly winces when he sees just how late it is. “Almost two,” he murmurs guiltily. He can see Steve’s mouth turn down into a frown now that his eyes have adjusted to the lack of light.
“S’late,” Steve mumbles. He rolls onto his side and reaches blindly for Eddie, hand eventually wrapping around Eddie’s bony wrist and squeezing gently in a mostly subconscious show of sympathy. His eyes blink open – bleary and unfocused – and scan over Eddie’s face. “Everything ‘kay?” Even half-asleep, he’s a worrier. Eddie finds it both endearing and a little heartbreaking.
He smiles, despite himself, and begins to card his fingers through Steve’s sleep-mussed hair, an unbearably fond feeling settling in his belly when Steve lets his eyes flutter shut again. “Yeah, sweetheart, everything’s fine,” he assures his tired boyfriend. “Just a long night. Pacers game a few blocks down, y’know? Spent a whole extra hour after close catching up on bar dishes.”
Steve furrows his brow and makes a discontented noise. “Gross,” he mutters, and Eddie huffs out a laugh. God, he is so stupidly in love with this beautiful, bitchy man.
“Very,” he hums in agreement.
“Y’should come to bed,” Steve says, and his voice is almost whiny, just like it always is when he tries to coax Eddie into their bed without a proper shower. He does it almost every night, and it almost never works. It’s certainly not going to work tonight, with Eddie smelling of shitty beer and grease.
“In a bit,” Eddie sighs, bending to press a kiss to Steve’s temple. “Gotta shower first.”
Steve properly whines at that, petulantly mumbling something incoherent.
“Baby, I’m covered in Miller and fryer grease. Do you really want me getting that shit all over our pillowcases?” Eddie says fondly.
“I want you to come cuddle with me,” Steve grumbles.
It takes more effort than is probably reasonable for Eddie to stifle the cackle threatening to burst from his chest. “In a few minutes, ‘kay? Just gonna go wash off real quick, and then I’ll come cuddle, you needy little bastard.”
“You’d better,” Steve says not at all threateningly. Eddie just laughs and kisses his forehead again before dragging himself away and into their little apartment bathroom for a quick shower. There’s a ninety percent chance Steve will be asleep again by the time Eddie makes it into bed, in ten minutes, so he can’t really bring himself to feel too guilty.
Still, true to his word, he showers quickly – rinsing all of the greasy smell out of his hair and scrubbing the spilled beer from his skin. He uses the bergamot soap Steve got him for Christmas, because he knows Steve likes it, and Eddie likes when Steve likes things. (And he’ll never admit this, but he doesn’t hate the smell of bergamot, either.)
When he’s finished, he quickly towels himself off and slips on the pair of plaid boxers Steve left out on the bathroom counter for him earlier (just one of those little, caring things that Steve does every day that make Eddie love him all the more). He plaits his wet curls so he doesn’t wake up with hair worse than Doc from Back to the Future, then he finally, finally, makes his way to bed.
Steve’s breathing is a slow, steady rhythm, but the way he instantly shifts closer to Eddie the moment he climbs into bed is a clear indicator that he hasn’t quite managed to fall back to sleep yet. Eddie has hardly had a chance to pull the covers up before Steve is pushing back into him, silently demanding the safety of his arms.
Eddie is all too happy to oblige.
It’s automatic and achingly familiar when Eddie rolls onto his side and wraps his arms around Steve, pulling his boyfriend close so Steve’s back is pressed to his front. Even then, it doesn’t seem to be close enough for Steve, who wiggles back even further until it nearly becomes impossible to tell where he ends and Eddie begins. It’s so disgustingly sweet that Eddie sort of wants to cry. Instead, he buries his nose in the crook of Steve’s neck and leaves a soft kiss just behind his ear.
“Hi, baby,” Eddie breathes as Steve rests one of his hands atop the one Eddie has tucked under his side and laces their fingers together. He leans forward slightly to kiss Steve’s cheek, just because he can, and before he can pull away to settle against the pillow, Steve turns his head to capture Eddie’s lips in a soft, barely-there kiss. The kind of kiss that instantly settles even the most frantic parts of Eddie’s soul.
“Hey,” Steve murmurs, lips still brushing together, and Eddie can both hear and feel the way his mouth has curved upwards into a smile. Eddie gives him one more peck on the lips before they both fall into their pillows again. “Missed you,” Steve whispers. It makes Eddie smile and shake his head with tired amusement.
“Missed you, too,” he whispers, even though it’s only been ten or so hours since they last saw each other. Christ, when did he become such a goddamn sap?
(He knows the answer to that question, obviously. Eddie “The Freak” became Eddie “The Sap” the first time Steve Harrington looked at him with that secret little smile on his face – the one he reserves for Eddie and Eddie alone, these days. The one that silently says, I love you.)
Steve hums contentedly and snuggles deeper into Eddie. God, he’s so fucking sweet like this. Eddie loves him so fucking much.
“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” Eddie says softly, moving his free hand to run his fingers through Steve’s hair, because he knows it helps his baby sleep.
Steve’s voice is already sleepy again when he murmurs, “’kay,” and then, even softer: “Love you.”
Eddie smiles. Holds Steve just a little bit tighter. Gives Steve’s hand an extra little squeeze and marvels at the fact that after everything – after murder accusations and monsters and government payouts and three fucking years as a senior at Hawkins High – he gets to have this. And sure, maybe he’s feeling a little extra sappy because of the simple ring he’s got buried in his guitar case – the one Robin helped him pick out just a few days ago, even though they can’t technically get married in the state of Indiana. Maybe that’s why he smiles a bit wider tonight with Steve in his arms…why his heart thumps a bit harder at every sleepy snuffle his boyfriend makes…
But the sappiness stopped bothering him a long time ago, when his sharpest edges were sanded out by the presence of the little family he found in the aftermath of the Upside Down, so Eddie doesn’t mind. Soon, he’ll be able to fall asleep next to his fiancé, instead of his boyfriend. They’ll get to call all of their adoptive rugrats and tell them the news, and Steve will be beaming so brightly it might just blind him. And it’ll be perfect.
For now, Eddie just lets himself sink into the warmth of having Steve Harrington in his arms.
And he sleeps.
This is for @steddie-week Day 5: Established Relationship. Just a little ficlet that popped into my head at literally 2 in the morning. I hope y'all enjoy!
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kittenintheden · 1 month
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You Can Read Me Anything Part 2
*ELMO ON FIRE GIF* so that took longer than anticipated but you know. HERE YOU GO. (thank you for all the wonderful comments on Part 1)!
***
Druidic Tav grew up in a nomadic clan that recorded their history through spoken word and song rather than written text. As such, she's illiterate, and one charming-ish vampire offers to help her with reading lessons and a whole lot more. Out of the goodness of his heart, of course.
Then one night, she unwittingly brings him smut for their lesson.
Rating: E Word Count: 5100 words Content: illiterate Tav, Astarion being a shit, but also being cute, innocent Tav, suggestive dialogue, blood drinking, biting kink, first time oral, cunnilingus, fellatio, PIV sex, Astarion playing himself
AO3 Link
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Astarion cradles her head, palm gently pressed to her cheek as she leans into it. She sighs and it tickles his ear, sending a dissipating wave of gooseflesh down the length of his back.
“Are you done yet?” Tav asks, voice breathy.
He hums and detaches from her neck, admiring the clean pair of fang marks he left there. His tongue swipes his bottom lip so he doesn’t waste a single drop of her blood. He releases her and takes a step back.
“You…” he says with a lazy smile as he reaches out with a finger to boop her nose. “... are so delicious.”
“Ha, ha,” she says with an affectionate eyeroll. She spreads her hand over the bite mark and calls on her connection to nature, using it to knit the flesh back together and restore her blood supply. “Glad to help.”
“I’ll bet you are,” he drawls at her with a wink. “Thank you for the appetizer. I’d best go find myself a full meal now.”
As he starts to saunter off deeper into the woods, Tav clicks her fingers and lightly bonks herself on the head. “Oh, almost forgot.” After him, she calls the Elvish phrase Shadowheart taught her.
For the first time since she met him at the site of the nautilus crash, she watches Astarion trip over his own feet.
He catches himself quickly, spine unusually straight as he puts his hands on his waist and takes a few more steps like he’d meant to do that the whole time. When he turns around to look at her, her smile fades when she notices his wide-eyed expression. The tips of his ears have gone very pink.
“Wha-” His voice cracks and he clears his throat and tries again, tone painfully casual. “What did you say?”
Tav grimaces. “Shit, did I get the middle part wrong? It was tricky when Shadowheart had me practice.”
Astarion leans forward a bit and gives a shaky laugh. “Ah. Right. I must’ve misunderstood. What were you trying to say?”
“She told me it meant, ‘I’m pleased to have provided you a good meal,’” Tav says, reaching up to pull some of her hair over her shoulder and fiddle with it.
“I see,” he says as he comes closer, his eyes searching her face. “Could you say it again? So I can correct your enunciation.”
“Oh, okay.” Tav gives a soft cough into her hand and repeats the phrase.
Astarion is close enough now that she sees his pupils dilate the tiniest bit. The flush at the tips of his ears spreads down the edges. Do they always do that after he feeds? They must.
He reaches delicate fingers up to cup her chin and draw her jaw down, parting her lips. His eyes are trained on her mouth and that makes her feel all too warm.
“Loosen your tongue,” he says softly. “Once more.”
She tries one more time and watches his eyelids flutter, inches from her own.
“There we go,” he whispers.
His gaze shifts to her neck again and he leans down toward it. She nearly stops him, but then she feels the draw of his tongue over the spot where he bit. He punctuates it with a soft, barely-perceptible press of his lips. A kiss, she might think, if she were a silly little girl. Which she certainly is not.
Then he’s standing straight again, releasing her face and putting space between them.
“Missed a smudge. Can’t let it go to waste.” His eyes rove over her face. “It’s so very precious.”
Then he walks off and she’s left standing there, cheeks hot and chest uncomfortably tight. Tav continues to run her fingers nervously through her hair as she turns and walks back toward their camp.
Astarion counts out fifty paces before he ducks behind a tree and leans his back heavily against it, letting out a shivery breath. He puts his cool fingers to his ears and tries to rub the heat out of them.
“Stop it,” he whispers to himself. “Stop it, stop it.”
---
Near the crumbling wreckage of a stone alter, Shadowheart kneels in prayer seeking guidance and direction from her Lady. The darkness, the loss, the silence… they are vast and answerless. She opens her eyes and takes a deep breath in and out. Clenches her right hand, glancing at the ever-present wound there.
If only she could remember… anything useful. No matter. For now, it’s whatever path will take her back to Baldur’s Gate.
She gathers her components and packs them away, standing to walk back down the path toward camp. There’s a trio of crumbling walls that clearly used to be some sort of holy building and she walks along one, trailing her fingers over the soft moss overgrowth.
Then she turns round the corner of the broken temple to find a bristling, broody vampire leaned up against the wall with his arms folded, glaring at her with a tic in his jaw. He raises an accusatory finger.
"You," he says, the word hard on his tongue. "Are an arsehole."
She gives him a smug smile and arches her brow. "You're a bigger arsehole."
He refolds his arm and narrows his eyes at her. “Really think you’re clever, don’t you.”
The cleric shrugs and cuts off to the side to walk back to the path. “The goal was to make you lose your cool. Seems like it worked.”
Silently and suddenly he’s walking at her side, lip curling in disdain. “Congratulations to you, you managed to annoy me. Don’t do it again.”
“Oh, he’s testy tonight,” she says, putting a hand to her cheek in a mockery of shock. “Maybe you’d feel less the fool if you hadn’t been teaching her to talk dirty.”
“We can’t all be ice queens, dear,” he sneers. “Some of us are queens with needs.”
Shadowheart rolls her eyes and her entire head along with it. “You should be thanking me, then. I gave you your opening.”
Astarion stops and she keeps on walking.
“To what?” he says.
“To have your ‘needs’ met,” she calls over her shoulder. “I’m not the one who was teaching her to invite me betwixt her thighs. Have a frustrating night.”
Astarion makes an affronted noise after her, pouts a moment, and then calls back, “Your bangs are wretched, by the way.”
She throws a rude gesture up at him and continues onward.
---
He plots and flirts for three days straight before he decides to make his move. Tav’s guard is down, her shy little moments are increasing in frequency, and he can literally hear her heartbeat quicken when he’s near. If that’s not all signs pointing to yes, he doesn’t know what is.
All he has to do is, you know. Make the move. Which he’ll do. Soon.
Because she still makes the most sense. The others all adore her, listen to her. She’s the perfect choice of protector should his vampirism prove a problem to anyone. She’ll say yes. Of course she’ll say yes.
… of course she’ll say yes. No one denies him. It doesn’t happen.
… it rarely happens. Not as if he’d care if it did, this time.
Astarion rocks his weight onto his back leg, flicking his gaze up to see Tav kneeling near the campfire and giving the dog a generous belly rub. Before she stops, he goes back to his extremely casual reading. Standing posed outside his tent. Holding a book with the title facing out. Very normal.
After what feels like an hour, his ears pick up approaching footsteps and he skims the page he’s on, waiting.
“Is that a new one?” Tav asks timidly.
He closes the book and looks up to meet her. His close-lipped smile feels almost natural. Almost.
“There you are,” he says, dropping his register a fraction. “I was just thinking about you.”
Not a lie, actually.
She tucks her hair behind one ear. “Oh? Do I owe you something?”
He laughs and sets his book aside. “Only a bit of your time. I do enjoy it so very much.”
Tav quirks her mouth up on one side. “Yeah? You’re pretty okay, too.”
“Better than okay, I should hope.” He closely examines his thumbnail. “I’m… growing to enjoy the whole package, honestly.”
She doesn’t immediately respond and he chances a look up at her.
“Deer in the magicked light” is what one might call the expression on her face. She blinks rapidly and gives her head a small shake before she looks to the side, color rising prettily in her cheeks.
“Is that so?” she says, giving a tight laugh.
His smile starts to go a little toothy and he dials it back. “I’ve been thinking an awful lot about our last reading lessons,” he lilts at her, peering up through his lashes. “And our language lessons. I’ve been pondering over what other sorts of lessons I could offer.”
Tav’s cheeks go pink to red.
He leans in to speak softly, making her lean in closer to be able to hear him. “I like you,” he says. “And I think you like me, too. So?”
“So, what?” she blurts, immediately grimacing at her own outburst.
A giggle bubbles up out of him before he can stop it and he puts a hand up in front of his mouth to hide his smile. When he regains control, he lowers his hand. “So, I thought you might like to indulge in certain curiosities with me.”
I want to go down on you.
Astarion blinks the thought away as soon as it appears in his head, briefly letting his smile slip before he snatches it back.
Tav is blushing furiously, but she leans in closer to him nonetheless to whisper, “Like what, exactly?”
Elvish, rising like the language of his dreams: I want to drink of your fountain.
He gives his head a light shake, playing it off with a mirthful huff as he says lowly, “Like sex, sweet thing. Whatever kind you might be… interested in.”
Tav nods rapidly and hums, slowly leaning back and standing at her full height again, not quite meeting his eye. “I was pretty sure that’s what you meant, but you know. Better safe than sorry? Is that a thing people say?”
Astarion reaches out to gently guide her chin toward him until she’s looking at him. “Think about it. If you’re amicable, you’ll find me later at the clearing where you last offered me a bite after the others are asleep.” He chucks her under the chin. “I’ll be waiting.”
She nods once more, expression unchanged. “Yeah. Yep. Okay. I’m going to… see you later. Maybe.” Then she turns on her heel and walks away.
“See you later,” he says. “Lover.”
When she disappears into the dark, he blows out a breath, subtly shaking his hands out. That was a yes.
Right?
“Of course it was,” he snipes at his own brain.
---
Hours later, Astarion paces the moonlit clearing, fiddling with the cuffed sleeve of his shirt. The others must be asleep by now. He pulls at the sleeve. It feels too tight.
Should he take the shirt off? He should just take the shirt off.
He does.
Astarion glances around the clearing once more, noting the blanket he spread on the ground nearby. Not a bed, but you know. He’s okay with that, actually.
He clenches and unclenches his fists, rolling his hands at the wrists. Cracking his neck. Rolling out his shoulders. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to be still. Controlled. Practiced. This is an act he’s performed thousands of times. This is no different.
It’s not.
She’s going to come out of those bushes any moment and-
The bushes he’s looking at actually rustle and he jumps, whispering “oh, shit” before he can stop himself. He manages to put a smile back on his face just as the leaves part and a small doe takes two hops into the clearing and freezes when it spots him.
Astarion doesn’t move. He doesn’t even breathe. The doe relaxes very slightly, flicking an ear.
It’s one of the little black-tailed deer native to the area. He’s made a meal of more than one of them in recent days. Her coat is smooth and healthy, her eyes brown and clear.
The doe blinks at him and takes a step closer.
He gives a relieved chuckle and says, “There you are, Tav.”
“Oh, you heard me? Damn,” says a voice from behind him.
“Ah-” he yells. He tries to cut off the sound, but it’s too late. The doe spooks and bounds off into the underbrush once again.
“Apologies,” he says, regaining his composure and rolling his eyes to the stars above. “She was such a pretty little thing that I assumed it was you.” He starts to turn. “But I’m glad you made it. I was starting to worry you’d gotten lost and…” He finally sets eyes on her and loses his smile immediately. “... and you’re already naked.”
Tav stands before him without a stitch on, her long hair hanging over her rounded breasts and everything from the waist down on full display. He spots her clothing and staff in a neat stack nearby. Her whole body is flushed.
Astarion swallows. He’s seen untold numbers of people in states of full undress. This is routine. She caught him off-guard, is all.
“I… was I not supposed to be?” Tav says, hands going up to run nervously through her draping hair. “Sorry, I thought… you said sex? And then I saw that you had your shirt off, so…”
He holds up a hand and ticks up his brows. “No, no, it’s fine. It’s fine! I like it.” He finds the mask, the posture, like muscle memory. Slips back into the person in control. “You’re just full of surprises, beautiful.”
Tav rewards him with a bashful smile, continuing to comb her hands through her hair.
Astarion huffs a laugh. He can’t help himself. He approaches her with slow, intentional steps. “I had a whole catalog of poetic nothings to whisper in your ear, but looks like I needn’t bother, which is fine by me.” He stops in front of her, smiling his charmer’s smile. “So long as you still want to be tasted.”
He’s starting to notice it’s a good sign when the apples of her cheeks turn red. She nods. “I’d like to try the tongue thing, yes, please.”
“Good,” he purrs, reaching for her hips.
He pulls her in for a sweet, well-executed stage kiss. Most people needed about that much before they got to what they were really with him for. He pulls back and gives her a tight-lipped smile.
Tav looks into his eyes, her lips parted. She’s not moving, and oh gods, he’s going to have to lead completely, isn’t he? Ah well. Such is life.
But then she tucks her chin, her gaze going heated. The pupils of her eyes flicker, changing shape ever so slightly, and Astarion hardly has time to drop his pretender’s smile and ask before she surges forward and kisses him back, throwing her arms around his neck.
Astarion gives a surprised “mmmn!” as he stumbles slightly under her vigor, but he corrects quickly, wrapping his arms around her ribcage and lifting her against his body. Her tongue runs along his mouth and she’s nipping, nipping, and-
There’s a sharp sting on his bottom lip and he releases her right as she pulls back from him, hands to her mouth and eyes wide as saucers. He reaches up to touch his lip and when he looks at his fingers, they show a smeared drop of blood. He blinks down at it, astounded.
He feels a snap deep inside him as the monster in him, the hunter, stirs at the sight and scent of blood.
“I’m so sorry,” Tav says, dropping her hands. “It’s a druid thing, we can get a little wild, I’m really sorry, I won’t do it again.”
Astarion licks at the cut on his lip and stares at her face, his breath heavy and his shoulders ever so slightly hunched. He can see the smallest bit of his blood at the corner of her mouth.
“Do it again,” he says with a voice like gravel as he scoops her bodily up and goes to his knees so he can set her on the ground.
He lays his body on top of hers and she gasps as his mouth covers hers, exploring and hungry. It doesn’t take long for her to return it in kind, arms wrapped around his shoulders and tangled in his hair. He can’t even bring himself to care when she’s making it look like.
Murkily, his brain reminds him why he’s actually here.
Astarion forces himself away from her mouth and she whines at him, a sound far more animalistic than humanoid, but he doesn’t stop trailing his lips down her body until he gets to her hips. He rolls himself up onto his knees and runs his palms up the tops of her legs from knee to thigh, coaxing them open so he can position himself between.
He looks at her face to find her gaze far less “startled doe” and far more “she-wolf in heat.” Her tongue darts out, licking her lip before she says, “People really like to do this?” Then, “You like to do this?”
Astarion positively grins, his pointed teeth showing through.
"Yes. Though it’s a pity this is your first experience," he says through his feral smile. "Because no one will ever best what I'm about to do to you."
“O-okay,” she stammers, clutching her fists close to her sides.
He purrs deep in his throat and puts his mouth to the inside of her knee, the tip of his tongue tracing a sensual line down her thigh, toward her center. He holds her eye the entire time and delights when her leg twitches.
When he nears the crease of her hip, he gives her a sharp nip and she growls at him, bucking her hips. He runs his tongue up along the crease until he reaches her hipbone, to which he gives a firm suck. As she attempts to roll her hips toward him, he spreads a palm over her hips and applies pressure to hold her down.
“Shall we check to see how you’ve kept your garden?” he says, looking at her from under his brows as he speaks.
In response, Tav giggles and slaps a hand over her mouth. Then nods.
She drops her hand to the ground and shakes her head, murmuring, “It can’t be that different, I’m sure it’s just like…” She shudders in a breath. “... just like…”
Astarion parts his lips and huffs out his breath against the slick skin at her core, already shining with want and anticipation. The sensation is a warming one.
Tav continues muttering to herself. “Books are full of all kinds of nonsense, I’m sure it’s-”
He flicks his tongue right over her clit.
“Ah,” she yelps, trying to buck her hips again. He doesn’t let her.
But he does flick again.
“Wha-” she says, thighs jerking on either side of Astarion’s head. “Why is-”
Astarion presses the flat of his tongue firmly at her entrance and draws it slowly all the way to the hood, teasing with the tip before he curls his tongue in slightly and dips back down to better open her inner labia.
“Holy hells,” Tav groans out, her chest arching up and the hands clawing the ground at either side of her growing actual claws.
He gives her another lap before pulling back to smolder at her. “And here I’ve only just started,” he says, voice silky.
“Holy hells,” Tav shouts to the sky this time.
Astarion huffs a laugh against her and goes back down, playing her with highly practiced skill. Full, long licks paired alongside firm draws over the swelling pearl at her center. She continues to buck ever now and again, but mostly she’s gone near boneless above him, head lolling lazily to either side and fingers weakly gripping the grass on either side of her.
When her breathing begins to stutter and he feels the flutter of her getting close, he finally moves his hand from her belly back down until he can get the angle right. He places the tips of his two middle fingers at her entrance so he doesn’t surprise her and glances up to see her eyes flutter open. She stares down at him from between the mounds of her breasts, pupils blown wide.
She licks her bottom lip.
She nods.
Astarion slides his fingers inside her and begins to pump in time with the movements of his mouth. Tav goes wild, both literally and figuratively. The pupils of the eyes watching him go slitted like a cat’s, gradually dilating back as her teeth go sharp and a random patterning of fur shivers down the length of her body before turning back to skin.
He takes that as a good sign and curls his fingers inside of her until he finds what he’s looking for.
Tav bark-mewl-roar-calls into the air above the clearing, her hips grinding into his mouth and hand now that she can move them again.
“Why does that…” she gasps. “Feel… so… good?” The last word comes out a growl.
He’d answer, but his mouth is preoccupied and he dare not let it leave its task.
With his free hand, he pushes her thigh up and guides it higher until she can wrap her leg round his shoulders and he can go deeper. He feels the swell of her under his tongue, going harder beneath his touch, and he begins to trace circles around it as he continues to pump his fingers into her.
Tav’s entire body rolls, trying to get closer, to get more, to get-
She howls as the tension finally snaps. Literally howls, from the very bottom of her chest.
Astarion slows but doesn’t stop, continuing to fuck her through it as he feels her release in the palm of his hand. He’s gentle, taking a touch of pity on her as he gives her a few more soft licks before he leaves her, drawing his fingers from her at the same time. They’re a mess, as is his face. He sits back on his knees and looks her over with lidded eyes, a self-satisfied half-grin on his face. Then he reaches into his pocket to produce a soft cloth to clean up.
He’s not much of a planner, but he plans enough for things like this.
Tav lolls on the ground, her body fully returned back to humanoid form. All except her pupils, which continue to occasionally flicker across the animal kingdom.
“Oh, that was good,” Astarion says, brows raised and grin on his face as he wipes his hand down. “Even for me, that was good. You’re welcome.”
She throws one arm out to her side, then the other, and slowly pushes herself up onto her elbows, trying to focus on him. “Why doesn’t… everybody do that? Oh my gods.” She flops back onto the ground.
Oh, she’s very good for his pride. He gives a pleased wiggle.
“You tell me,” he says. “Or call upon your old lovers and ask.”
Tav weakly waves her hand through the air. “They were bad. I’ve realized. Just now. They were bad at sex.”
“Poor thing,” Astarion croons. “All better now.”
“Yeah.” She rolls onto her side and sits up. Shakes out her head. And starts to crawl toward him.
He instinctively leans back as she comes closer, breasts swaying as she moves. “What are you doing?” he says.
She blinks at him. “I’m going to do it back.”
He blinks at her. “What?”
Tav draws her knees closer and matches his kneeling posture. “I’m going to put my mouth on you back.” She waits a beat. “If you want me to.”
“Uh,” Astarion breathes before he shakes himself and gets his wits back about him. “I would like that very much,” he says. He tries to purr it, but slightly lower in pitch is the best he can do.
It’s been years since he’s been with anyone who even bothered to ask. Probably decades.
Tav beams at him, a bright smile that’s so sunshiny it nearly betrays what they’ve just done. She rolls up onto her knees and pulls him by the wrists to do the same so she can reach the laces that hold his trousers on. His arousal pulses near her hands.
Astarion blinks. He’s… more into this than he usually is.
He blinks again.
He’s very into it, actually.
His fingers go to join hers and together they make quick work of his pants and underthings. Gently, she guides him back to kneeling again as she curls forward. Without thinking too much about it, he reaches out so he can hold her hair up out of her face. She’s at eye level with his cock, inspecting it with the eye of someone all too familiar with all the things nature has to offer and completely unashamed for it.
Astarion swallows back the wanting sound that tries to claw its way out of him.
“Have you done this before?” he asks softly.
Tav peers up at him from her position below and bends her legs at the knees, kicking her feet slowly through the air. She shakes her head “no” and something frozen inside him melts. Best ignore that. That’s a future-him problem.
“You are adorable,” he breathes. He finds he means it in the affectionate way rather than the condescending one, which is alarming. That’s another future-him problem.
Astarion clears his throat. “Same general practice applies here, really,” he says lightly.
Tav licks her lips and reaches out to touch him. Her fingers on him give him a little jolt to the solar plexus and he curls toward her on instinct before he catches himself.
“Tell me if there’s something I could do better,” she says, simply.
Then she licks along the underside of his cock and puffs her breath out across it, much in the same way he did to her.
He curls in toward her again and tightens the hand in her hair.
She puts her mouth over the head of him and he’s enveloped in warmth and oh, yes, he remembers this. This feels good. This feels very good.
Tav doesn’t get down very far before she backs up again. When she pulls off, he reaches a hand down to cup her jaw and draw it down, parting her lips.
“Loosen your tongue,” he whispers. “Once more.”
She does. She descends on him again, relaxing her jaw and loosening her tongue, taking him down deeper and deeper with each pass. Astarion means to watch and guide her, he does, but instead his head lolls back, eyes falling closed, and he smiles. A real smile.
It feels so bloody good. It feels good and he doesn’t have to… he can just be…
Tav hums a little with him mostly inside her mouth and he gasps from it, blinking back to the surface.
Oh, that’s too good.
He lets her go a few seconds more before he tightens the fingers in her hair once more to still her and gently guide her back. His chest heaves as her mouth leaves him, a string of saliva connecting them, and Astarion shudders forward.
“What’s wrong?” Tav asks, her eyes wide and concerned.
She can’t look at him like that. That’s not fair.
He lifts her beneath her arms and pulls her up toward him, her face to his, and kisses her again. She happily responds, catching his lower lip between hers and nipping once more.
Astarion groans.
Hands on her face, he breaks their kiss and tries to collect his scattered thoughts. It’s all hazed over with want. There was a reason for this, they were supposed to… he was supposed to…
“Why don’t we…” He loses the thought and swallows. Tries again. “Let’s find our mutual…”
Words, words, words, where are his words?
Astarion hisses through his teeth. “Oh, just… sex. Let’s have sex.”
“Oh,” Tav breathes, lips swollen and cheeks ruddy. “Okay.”
Whatever he had planned, which was not much, goes completely sideways as she simply climbs up onto his lap, reaches between them, and holds him steady so she can sink down onto him.
He’s so wholly unprepared for the suddenness and initiative of it that his eyes nearly roll back in his head before his mind catches up and he grips her hip with his hand, guiding her as he rolls up to meet her, his hips rhythmic, until their hips meet and he bottoms out.
Tav throws her arms around his shoulders and immediately begins to rock against him, her eyes closed and her joyous grin on her face. Astarion is doing his absolute best not to completely lose himself in her heat, her closeness, her scent.
Her pulse, oh, gods.
Astarion rocks himself up into her with steady rolls of his hips, tilting in to press his open lips to her neck with a moan.
“You can,” she gasps as she rides him. “You can bite, if you want.”
He’s not sure if the words he makes are language, but he does know he’s biting her and her blood washes over his tongue and he drinks lazily, sipping as he fucks into her at the same time. His mind is so unbelievably, blissfully bare of anything except how good, how hot, how much, how full, how winding winding winding-
Astarion pulls off her neck with a gasp almost on the edge of his orgasm. Automatically, he reaches between them and uses all the wiles of a skilled lockpick to send her spiraling over her ledge a second time before he furrows his brow, slams his eyes shut, and yells out as he climaxes, his spend spilling where he’s still buried deep.
“Oh, fuck,” he blurts before he can stop himself, nearly collapsing onto his side with Tav along for the ride. He slips out of her on the way down and immediately feels the mess they’ve just made.
Another future-him problem.
Tav casts a very half-hearted create water spell that at least rinses them off. She drapes herself over his chest, dopey smile plastered on her face. “You win,” she says. “I see what all the fuss is about now.”
“I bet you do,” he says breathily.
He’s grateful she’s not looking at his face as he struggles to hide the worry pulling at his expression. It’s future-him time, and future-him is having a moment.
He just had the best sex he can remember having in… that he can remember. With someone who will still be alive in the morning. And he likes her.
Oh, hells.
He likes her.
587 notes · View notes
novelbear · 8 months
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cozy and content -prompts for your otp cuddling in bed
prompt list by @novelbear
drawing circles and patterns on their chest
humming/singing their partner to sleep
carefully trying to turn the lamp on the nightstand off without letting go of their partner in their arms
"what's wrong?" "your feet are cold!"
playing with their hair
laying their head on their lover's shoulder, one arm lazily wrapped around their torso and a leg over theirs
taking innocent peeks at their partner's phone every once in a while they're scrolling
"your hair smells nice..."
smiling as they feel their partner lay a firm kiss on the top of their head
"did we fall asleep?" "i think we did.."
not being able to be calm for five minutes as tickle matches ensue
sneaking photos of each other because they're just too cute
laughing when one drops their phone on their face
"we should really get up." "we should....but we won't."
feeding them fruits/other snacks they have
absentmindedly playing with the other's fingers
melting because they just look so cute all bundled up in blankets
^ like i mean they're all curled up and look small, covered up so much that all they can see are big eyes peeking out and innocently blinking at them from the blanket. how do you want them to keep a straight face.
feeling little kisses being placed on their neck, chest, or chin from time to time.
"did you just wash these sheets?" "i did." "they smell nice. and they're still warm."
holding them as if they're protecting the other from the world as they're snuggled up at their side.
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comfortless · 2 months
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Deep Water
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nix! König x fem! reader
content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. no.. intentional harm done to reader but there are sporadic mentions of murder (drowning), König is kind of a creep here do you guys forgive me (say yes), implied sex; dubcon everything. König is wearing a fishing net rather than the usual hood because. it made sense to me sorry.
notes: yet again, i have found that i can not manage to write anything except for silly fantasy nonsense… bear with me this will pass (it will not). if you’re uncertain of what a nix is, i recommend skimming over this (or tl;dr— a shapeshifting water spirit).
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You’ve always been told to beware of the river, especially on nights like this. When the singing starts up you were to run, as far and as fast as your feet could carry you. It would be the most beautiful sound you had ever heard, as well as the last. Whatever beast lies in wait along the silt of the riverbed luring people in with its haunting song isn’t kind. The drowned bodies resurfacing bloated and paled are enough for the townsfolk to assume that assuredly, a monster lies in wait someplace within the glassy water.
For all of the fear, town myths were just that— myths.
As always, there’s no singing when you seat yourself on smooth, mossy stones by the river’s bank. The moon hangs low, casting its brilliant reflection on calm, dark water. The air is alive with the buzzing of cicadas clinging to the trees at your back and night birds calling out to the wind. Nothing is amiss; it’s only peaceful, and that’s why despite the warnings, you often find yourself here when the temperature is favorable.
There are nights when the river isn’t calm, and currents are the most reliable reasoning for the deaths from past summers. The water is full of large rocks with sharp corners, teeming with plants that could so easily snare an ankle, and when the water is frothing and cruel it’s no surprise that one could be thrashed to unconsciousness if they weren’t careful.
You didn’t come here to take your chances on swimming, anyhow.
If anything, it’s a mere reprieve from the bustle of the town. No one wanders here any more since the myths gained traction, passed from mouth to listening ears time and time again, leaving this place entirely untouched. Occasionally the obnoxious teenager would cross your path on the walk here, declaring loudly to their friends about how they supposedly saw some slimy beast, eyes like moonbeams and scales like razors lying on the bank.
During your little adventures here, you often carry a snack with you, but not for yourself. Tonight, it’s just a small package of vanilla flavored cookies. In truth, they were awful— dry and near flavorless, but you suspect your friend here wouldn’t mind too terribly much, and if it got them out of your pantry without wasting it was a win for the both of you.
When the large dorsal fin crests over the water mere meters from the bank, you gratuitously crush the treats in a closed fist and toss the crumbs into the water. Time and time again, you’ve fed the large animal, watching as it thrashes about just below the surface before disappearing back into its depths. You’ve never gotten a good look at it, either, but you imagine it must stretch out past your height or further; some sort of gar or sturgeon.
Just as many times before, it glides further in, fin entirely out of sight now. The only evidence of it ever appearing at all were the small waves rippling in its wake. All is quieted once more as you embrace the placid bliss, readying your small flashlight and losing yourself into the book perched in your lap.
The next night, you’re greeted by a large snake basking over the rock you typically sat upon. It lies still, coiled into itself as it regards you, forked tongue flicking out for several moments before it simply slithers off, hiding itself away beneath the moss and stone.
“Best to leave you alone, huh?,” you ask to it’s retreating tail, feeling a bit silly for speaking to the reptile at all. It doesn’t respond, of course, nor does it bother to come out of hiding either.
You opt to seat yourself on the hill overlooking the water instead.
You find that after a day occupied by tedious tasks, there truly was no greater place to abandon your woes than here. Everything was peaceful; wild yet simplistic. Even with all of the death that seemed to haunt this place, you never feared the thought of ghosts. You’ve even entertained your imagination a time or two, that if you ever did meet one, you would only ask it not to disturb the wildlife you have grown so fond.
There’s a freedom and a mystery to places like this, places without the foot traffic of other people. It brings with it a sense of whimsy, especially when you glance towards the water and see the surface reflecting every twinkling star above.
The fish doesn’t appear, even as you listen to the water in wait, your head tilted as you lie back on soft grass to watch for ripples, for the swell of a large fin moving beneath. Nothing. You read your book as the night progresses, nearly completing it entirely before you make your way back home.
Weeks pass by like this— work, river, home and repeat. Occasionally it’s the same large snake that greets you when you wander there, more often it’s the large fish circling about waiting for crumbs of whatever treat you choose to bring. The bank and the small hill overlooking it have become a separate home to you, one where you can be away with the fairies, talking to your animal friends that never seem to stick around for long.
When the weather grows warmer, you even dare to take a swim.
You’re stood on the slick stones of the bank, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of underwear. It’s not proper swimming attire, but you reason that you’re not at the beach, not a soul is around, and it doesn’t really matter at all that you might look a bit silly. The prospect of swimming along that behemoth below is a tad terrifying, but you wouldn’t dare to wander too far in. Maybe the fish would even be intelligent enough to not attempt to eat you after you’ve been so kind to it.
It’s hot, and with a sticky layer of sweat glossing your skin, your worries seem minuscule in light of an easy way of cooling off. You toe at the calm water for a moment, testing its temperature before willing yourself to take a step forward, then another before you seat yourself in the vibrant expanse of darkened blue. Here, you realize, is the best place to stargaze, too; they shimmer all around you, within reach as you tap at the surface of water, watching it undulate beneath the pressure of your fingertips.
You could reach the moon, too, if you swam further out. A few meters from the bank and you would be directly beneath its reflection, bathed in that ethereal glow.
You watch for your friend for a time, trying to prioritize your wariness over your whimsy. When the fish doesn’t tread by you, the water remaining calm, you rise to your feet and take slow, metered steps as the water parts and flows against your shins.
Though the river is disturbed no matter how gently you stride forward, nothing slides out from its depths in pursuit of you. Nothing happens at all when you reach out to splay your hand out against the reflection, the water now gently lapping against your stomach rather than your legs.
You hadn’t expected any sort of shift in your reality, that would be ridiculous, but perhaps some sort of clarity; a further calm for a weary mind. It doesn’t come, and with a disheartened splash you wade your way back towards the shore.
This has been your sanctuary for some time. Excusing the snake, there’s not been any sort of threat to you, not here. A safe water world all your own. Though, that peace is shattered the moment that you make it to the bank and hear the water shift some small distance behind you. Turning your head, you’re met with the sight of a man, the bulky muscular silhouette towering in the patch of moonlight you had just stood in. Bright blue eyes catch the light, reflecting like an animal’s as you scramble back to where you’ve left your shorts.
He stands there, silent and unmoving like an obelisk even as you hastily dress yourself with a thundering heart and breaths that sound more or less like gasps, senses heightened by your panic as you turn tail to run.
No one had been there. You were sure of it when you sunk into the water. There was no sound when this person had swam over to take your place. He was just there, as if he had been the entire time and you somehow failed to notice.
You make your way into the woods framing this place, hurried steps and untied shoelaces. You don’t even bother with your flashlight.
Finding your way back home with aches in every muscle, the desperate rampage you had taken to get away finally coming to a close when the door slams shut behind you, you quickly shower and mull over what’s just happened. A ghost, perhaps. It had to of been. Any other person would have made noise in their approach, especially being that big. The mind could play its tricks; what you had seen was likely not even there at all— a terrifying figment of your imagination. That sets you at ease, somewhat, but not enough.
You don’t sleep well that night, tucked beneath your blanket and staring at the filtered moonlight through your curtains. Work isn’t on your mind at all come morning until your phone chimes with a notification from your manager, questioning your tardiness. A languid crawl out of bed follows, another shower, an unsatisfying breakfast, all before you opt to send a text back to let him know you won’t be in today.
It could be excused, you’re reliable and decent enough at the job; not one to boast, but far more eager to please than the rest of your coworkers. You would be entirely useless if you went in on no sleep, you reason.
You don’t want to go back there, not under the veil of night, but you find yourself horribly curious the longer that you bide your time indoors. You had to know if the thing that you saw was really there, had to calm your nerves. What if he had always been watching each time, and you simply hadn’t noticed? The forest bordering the river is terribly dark at night, anyone could crouch behind the shield of a tree and remain undetected until they willed the courage to drag you in, cup a palm over your mouth to silence your cries.
Maybe it was the monster the people in town rumored about.
The thought of some strange, silent thing living beneath the water waiting for an opportune moment to take you by the neck and drag you down to the silty floor to watch you drown horrified you. Yet, that’s the one conclusion that sticks. Those eyes… so lurid and haunting, no human being had eyes like that.
You inhale sharply, steeling your nerves as reach for a pocket knife for defense, toss it into the bag slung over your shoulder, and storm out the door.
The trek there is nothing short of dull.
No matter where you look, what shadows rise up beneath the dim glow of a falling sun, there’s nothing out in the woods. The river is equally tame. The water babbles over rock, cicadas buzz off in the distance, and not a thing seems amiss. Your search for footprints that don’t belong to the soles of your shoes turns up empty. The only thing that suggests just maybe it wasn’t all in your head is the book you had neglected to retrieve in your fear the night before.
The cover, every page within, now warped as though it had been pulled into the water and spit out to dry. You pick it up, peeling through damp pages, running your fingertips over the smeared ink. It’s possible that a particularly aggressive splash could have sullied it, but something tells you that that isn’t the case. Either way, it’s unreadable now. You sulk a bit as you slip the ruined thing into your bag and step towards the smooth stones to watch the water instead.
Night creeps in slowly with you there, and you’re on high alert for a time before you begin to relax as usual. Even giggle to yourself at how silly it was you believed you saw a ghost at all as you entertain yourself by skipping small stones across the water.
No large snake, no massive fish, no titan of a man appears before you, only a calming crescent moon and a few wandering wood ducks, gliding down from the bank to splash about. A thought comes to mind as the calm emboldens you: what would happen if you got in just one more time?
There’s nothing to suggest that you’re playing with fire as you leave your shoes neatly in the dry sand. If the ducks could swim unbothered by fish or men, then surely you could, too. You watch the little creatures a distance away as they dip their heads beneath the surface and chitter away amongst themselves while you take your first step in.
You don’t dare to go as far this time, stopping when the water brushes over your knees. You wait there while time seems to slow to a crawl, expecting the absolute worst, glancing further down the river, dipping your hand below the glassy surface until your fingertips brush the sand beneath.
It’s horribly hot and you’re still exhausted from the sleepless night before. The water feels nice, and you feel as though you have some sort of claim to it as you’ve been here more often than anyone else would dare to. Ghosts and monsters be damned, you seat yourself and let the water lap over your shoulders, tilting your head back to watch the stars.
When the singing begins it takes a moment to register just what it is that you’re hearing. It’s not beautiful, not like the myths have said. It’s hissed, a low whisper, a mockery of what a human song would sound like. The voice is rasped, lilted yet cold. The realization that it sings words from your book of poetry is what terrifies you the most, the warped pages all making sense now.
Your eyes dart to either side of you, forward, before realizing the voice is coming from behind you. Cold spreads through your veins as you try to force yourself to stand, but in your fear you find yourself petrified, rooted in water that would surely become your grave.
You can’t bring yourself to turn around, to inevitably find your eyes locked onto the shadowy frame of a man far too large, his eyes glistening and pale like the moon hanging above.
The voice pauses when it finds you unmoving, and you can hear the rustle of the creature shifting its weight where it’s stood on the rocks lining the bank. You’ve no clue how deep the river gets, where the opposite side leads, but your only chance of escape seems to be swimming through in the hopes that this thing doesn’t choose to chase after you. A part of you knows that he would, that that is exactly what he expects you to do, goading you to flee deeper with his eerie song so that he can drown you just as he did the others.
You do the opposite as you squeeze your eyes shut and crawl back towards the bank, making sure to keep some distance despite your willful blindness. You wouldn’t look at it, wouldn’t talk to it, you would just go home and never come back.
“Best to leave you alone, hm?”
You still as your fingers brush against wet moss, the voice no longer a whisper but loud, loud as it echoes your words from days past just above you. Beating back your own curiosity proves futile, because you look up at the damned thing then, expecting to see an impossible terror before you, sharp fangs wet with blood and appendages too spindly reaching out for you. Instead, you see only a man.
He’s crouched, only a meter or so away, and you immediately recognize his broad figure. The same as the night before. From this distance you can make out the finer details, the length of net covering his face and neck, the webbing between each finger. Still a scary sight, but only in the way it’s unfamiliar and imposing rather than instilling any sort of primordial fear.
“Excuse me?” You pull yourself fully out of the water, rising to your feet and taking a tentative step back. You’re prepared to run, a coil pulled too tight on the verge of snapping.
The man, creature, whatever he may be just tilts his head, lets the silence hang in the air for a moment before he has the audacity to laugh whether to himself or at the strange, bewildered expression on your face.
His stare is assessing as he sucks in a breath, follows suit in rising to his full height. From the size of him alone, you know you’re not getting away. A mere stride for him would be two or more for you, a deliberate tug of your wrist from him could snap it in an instant.
Yet, he doesn’t reach for you, only gestures toward your bag lying on the ground with a subtle flick of a finger. You give him a quizzical glance in turn, not bothering to retrieve it. You could come back during the day with a friend, gather it and never return. Only, your knife sits somewhere inside, the only protection that you’ve got. The realization spurs you to bend over and toss the strap over your shoulder.
“I’ll… I’ll be going now.”
The stare remains fixed upon you as you take another step back, blinking slowly every now and then as you both remain in some strange stasis.
It takes you a moment to put the pieces together. The reciting of words from the book, the mimicking of the words spoken to the snake, the hint at your bag… he’s expecting something and it’s not to steal away your life, only to be fed and have your company. It’s not charming, it’s awfully strange and eerie, but you find yourself giggling at the prospect of taming some murderous, shapeshifting monster with subpar treats and poetry.
You pull open the bag, searching for anything you may have brought along that he could eat, eventually prying out a small package and offering it out to him.
“Is this what you want?,” you ask, voice hushed and trembling.
He shakes his head, rustling the net cloaking him in the process. So, he understands, he’s just been willfully ignoring every other thing you’ve said prior. You store the package away with a perturbed expression crossing over your face.
“Then what?”
Any relief you had felt seems to dwindle when the giant takes a half-step closer. His skin is cool and wet as the river as he brushes his hand over your forearm, curling a set of fingers around it. The touch is gentle, but there’s a promise of violence lurking somewhere in the depths of his eyes.
“Come with me,” he urges in that harsh whisper from before, delicately squeezing as he pulls you towards him, leading you back to the river with a tight grip and a step back over the stones. Though his touch is passive, there’s a frightening strength lurking someplace beneath his flesh, tacked to bone, and as your gaze trails lower to rest to rest at your feet, the space between you two, the evidence of a life prone to violence and strength is laid bare before you.
You don’t fight the hold as he leads you to water so deep it caresses the base of your neck, right below the milky glow of a waning moon. Deeper still, as you’re pulled below, pressed down to the very bottom with his body lain over you. You can only hold your breath so long before an involuntary gasp leaves you, and a wave is funneled straight into your lungs.
Panic is fleeting, but the adrenaline stays ever-present. You claw, push, kick, to no avail. Pinned down by a hand weighing like an anchor you feel your vision flooding and hazy as his head knocks against your jaw, mouth sealing tightly over yours. It’s not a gentle kiss, the net fashioned into a hood digs into your skin, teeth scrape over your lip until you feel the sting of blood drawn.
All at once, your vision darkens and it’s over.
You find yourself lying back on the shore as the morning sun warms your face, causes your dampened shirt to cling to your skin. Disoriented, but alive, brushing your thumb over your lower lip as you sit up to stare at the subtle waves lapping over moss and rock.
Just a dream, you tell yourself, knowing full well you hadn’t fallen asleep.
Just a dream, even though you avoid the river entirely now. Your route home from work changes too, avoiding even a glimpse of the path that leads down to that place. You don’t even replace the book, you toss what remains of it after fishing through your bag, murmuring something about it surely being cursed and entertain yourself with film at night instead.
Sleep remains tentative, you wake with every sound, and your dreaming is filled with visions of a figure pushing you down into deep water, his weight bearing down upon you so heavily that you can not move until you wake with a start, eyes searching your bedroom.
Several weeks, and the fear does eventually fade.
The morning that the rain begins to fall, you realize you haven’t even thought about the river in days. There’s no monster prowling your nightmares anymore. You lived through what may or may not have occurred, and that was the end of it, simple as it may have been.
A late shift at work has you wandering out into the rain, umbrella in hand. You’re grateful that you live close, that you’re not entirely soaked to the bone when you step inside of the mundane building. Your coworkers notice your change in demeanor immediately, chirping about how glad they are that you’re finally feeling better, looking more yourself as the hours pass you by. It brings a smile to your face, a real one that you haven’t had in place since that last night.
Even in the summer, there’s a chill to the air in the late afternoon as you hurry home from work and make your way inside, stripping out of your wet clothes and setting your umbrella aside. It’s darker outside than it should be, even more so indoors. Reaching for the switch to turn on the lights proves useless— the power’s out.
You light your way with your phone, ignoring the way your pulse quickens and your heart flutters with the fear that something just doesn’t feel right. Your skin prickles with the thought of some unseen pair of eyes watching you, blue and cold. You only relax when you slam your bedroom door shut, locking it and pressing your forehead to the wood as you sigh. The puff of breath that escapes your lips is not the only in the room, you find out when the light of your phone illuminated your bed. Crouched beside it, a towering figure with a face veiled by fishing net. Words don’t come when you open your mouth to speak, and your heart stutters in your chest as you stand shaking but otherwise petrified.
“You didn’t come back.”
Of course you hadn’t.
Most people wouldn’t have.
“No. I’ve been… busy,” you choke out the excuse, hoping to pacify whatever emotion you imagine lurked beneath his tone, undetectable through the hiss of his voice. “I’ll visit soon, promise,” you lie, back pressed against the door as your fingers curl over the knob.
Your fear seems almost unwarranted. He doesn’t move toward you, only stands to wander back to the window where he must have broken in.
“Tonight?,” he asks in a voice so soft, the voice he must use as a lure because tugs at your heartstrings immediately, makes you want to follow despite the threat this thing poses merely by existing, despite everything.
“It’s cold— I’ll get sick,” you murmur. “How did you even find me..?”
“I will keep you warm.” The question goes unanswered.
You find yourself stifled again as he lumbers towards you, brushing cold fingers across the side of your face. It’s not a mockery of a kiss you receive next but a firm bite where your neck meets shoulder, not yet hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make you shiver, to grip at the wall of muscle that makes up his chest.
There’s a desperation to his movements as he herds you towards the window, pushes you toward the path leading back to the river. You’re soaked to the bone in seconds, hardly able to keep your eyes open past the weight of dampened eyelashes. The rain is so heavy it feels as though every step is like the first you took into cursed water, your feet sinking into the mud along the path with each tentative stride. The realization that you’re there doesn’t even hit you until you’re chest-deep in the chill, violent waves pushing against you, each carrying the threat of toppling you over entirely.
The palm splayed out against your bare back keeps you upright, leading you to a smooth rock jutting out in the midst of what seems a sea of frothing white and blue. The sea above is just as dark, angry clouds roaring as you’re pressed down onto your back, shivering terribly.
He keeps his promise though, a tight grip on each thigh as he pries your legs apart, sinks in between them and blankets you from the rain. Even with the cold pressed to your back, you feel the warmth of a summer sun above you, scorching from inside, just as blazing as the look in his wild eyes. The last of any resolve slips when you’re pulled beneath the violent waves, a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses coaxing oxygen into your lungs. Each roll and pull no less tumultuous than the waves overhead. A placid end when the rain comes to an impromptu halt, just as he stills over you. Hands rush to cup your face with one final, desperate and biting kiss.
When the morning sun pulls you from sleep, cool moss against your back and the weight of his head resting over your middle, the shallow water lapping lazily at your figure, you find that you no longer fear drowning.
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pastelhooman · 10 months
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[WVW Exchange Event 2023!]
"The kisses on your lash, your ears, on the nose that keeps scrunching. The kisses on your hand, on your cheeks, and the exchanging soft words waiting for the break of day."
----- ID under break -----
A total of 6 pages of comics, starting with a close up shots of vash kissing sleeping wolfwood's nose, eyes, lashes, and he furrows them a bit. an overhead shot of the two of them in a motel room, on the bed with vash leaning over wolfwood from the left, laying soft kisses on him. their legs tangled. their normal outfits are thrown haphazardly on the floor, instead donning comfortable clothes. on the outside, the very first ray of lights are yet to shine.
"what a face you're making pfft" - vash says as he grabs both of wolfwood's cheeks, squeezing them a bit. wolfwood mumbles, "There's something that keeps landing on my face, it tickles." he grabs the hand that is on his right cheek. "Well you're letting it happens anyways right?" Vash muses, bringing the hand up to kiss on its knuckles. "Good morning Wolfwood. It's almost dawn"
"… Isn't it way too soon?" - wolfwood asks, but keeps to himself the prayers he's sending to god because the the boy on top of him was such a sight to behold. Vash flops down onto him, leaving the hand hanging and lace his own hand into Wolfwood's hair, peppering kisses to the side of his face. "Yep" - he answers - "But you woke up on your own tho" - facetiously. He giggles, saying that it was a joke after a beat of silence. A sigh, "don't make me upside you first thing in the morning." Wolfwood closes his eyes, hand combing through golden strands. "Heh, how merciful~" "We have a meet up with Milly and Meryl today, remember?" Vash reminds him, which does raise some vague memory. wolfwood hums, the other hand reaching around vash's torso, hugging him. " So, the sooner we arrive, the less likely she'll chew through my head." - Vash adds. "riiiight. And you were SO urgent in waking me up." in wolfwood's hold, both of them slowly turn to the right, towards the edge of the bed.
Well, you were just soooo cute, I couldn't help it! didn't thinkk you'll actually wakE UAA-!"
the bed creaks under the sudden shift in weight as wolfwood tosses vash over and under him, arms firmly hugging him, one at his back and one at his head, hungrily dives down to kiss. "!! Wolf-! Wait-!" Vash yelps, leg instinctively curls around the other's man hip to hang on, trying his damnest to grip on his shirt as HE is now half airborne, barely has any contact with the bed on his upper body. However, wolfwood seems to have another idea as he keeps deepening the kiss, pointedly holding Vash close, hands spread guarding the back of his head as both of them are sliding off the soft fabric.
"THUD!" a resounding fall, possibly enough to wake the room downstairs, followed shortly by laboured breaths amist wet smacks of lips. Heaves and huffs of air exchanging between the two bodies when the need to breath made itself necessary. They press close, cradling each other, and are lost to their own world. After a while they had to part. Metal arm shifts through black locks, caressing down to his nape and they hold eye contacts there, with lidded eyes, strands of saliva thins then breaks.
Wolfwood pushes up on his arms, looking smugly down at his now disheveled partner: "Now this is how it's done, Needlenoggin." he remarks. Vash tries to wrangle his thoughts back in order, but strings of Wolfwood's name and a wonderous question keeps filling his mind, of whether he should risk it all and have fun for a bit more. Regardless, snapping out of his trance, Vash sourly asks, with a wry smile and an aching head: "But did you really need to roll off the bed?" "Wrong side, whoops" - Wolfwood anwers unseriously, laughing as he finds the situation quite amusing.
----- End of ID -----
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DP X DC PROMPT #27
(Time for something a little more lighthearted/found family. Could probably also make this a crack prompt instead.)
(#) = Notes at the end of post
(*) = Just me building off of other ideas.
Visitation Rights
When Danny went to list Dani/Ellie as his heir after she'd come back from her years of traveling the world, he was quickly informed that he already had one in line for the thrown.
"What? Since when?!"
The pretentious, floating eyeball looked like he wanted to be anywhere else other than here, providing information to King Phantom, but explained anyway.
"The day you officially achieved royal status, you permanently linked your being to the Infinite Realms. When this happened, however, a child was in the process of being created with the assistance of ectoplasmic runoff that's been leaking into the mortal world for centuries. As a result of your power being incorporated into the Realms at such a time, this human child retained an imprint of your core signature. The Infinite Realms itself has recognized this child as your offspring. Your... other offspring has yet to be recognized in such a way and would therefore be considered your second heir once claimed."
Danny stared at the Observant with wide, blank eyes that were slowly filling with dread and panic.
"Why are you just telling me this now?? My coronation was over a decade ago!" He held his face in his hands and gave a horrified groan at what he just learned.
"If you really wanted that clone as your heir, I'm afraid it's too late to change it-"
Danny's head shot back up with a snarl and furious green eyes.
"That's not what I'm upset about you walking cataracts! Eleven years! I've missed eleven years of this kid's life!! How could you think I-"
At a loss for words, he growled deep in his chest. Deep enough that it echoed throughout the halls and rattled the floors.
"Who is this kid, and where can I find them?"
Once given the information and learning of the child's other parental figures, he gets to work. A few weeks later, he appears in the home office of a well-known billionaire with a stack of papers that he promptly slams onto the desk in front of the startled man. (1)
"I demand visitation rights to our son, Damian Wayne."
(1) Danny actually visited Talia first to get visitation rights. Needless to say, that didn't go very well. He's still got a couple knives floating around in his chest cavity because of it.
(*) ALSO! I'm not sure how this lines up with the DC/Batman timeline. All I figured out is that if Danny waited to be crowned until after he graduated college as an astrophysicist, which take 5 to 7 years, he'd be about 36 years old when he finds out about Damian. Bruce would be about 41, so the age gap is only 5 years. If y'all wanna make this Danny/Bruce, go ahead!
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thelonelyempath · 1 year
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Sleepy Prompts
1. “Baby, you look like you’re about to pass out.”
2. “Go rest.  I’ll take care of it.”
3. “Do you think it would be helpful if we were cuddling?”
4. “You fell asleep right on my lap.  No no no, don’t feel bad.  I actually thought it was pretty cute.”
5. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”
6. “Let me be a mom for a second and tuck you in.”
7. “You’re adorable when you’re sleeping.”
8. “Put the homework away and go to bed.  You look exhausted.”
9. “I called in sick.  Now we can stay in bed and snuggle all day.”
10. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep after that.”
11. “That’s the fifth time in the last two minutes that you’ve yawned.”
12. “No offense, but you look like you haven’t slept in days.”
13. “You’re already half-asleep.”
14. “I’ll carry you.”
15. “That’s, what, your fourth cup of coffee?”
16. “Are you afraid to fall asleep because you think you’re gonna have a nightmare?”
17. “You’re so cute when you’re tired and speaking in half-sentences.”
18. “Did you know you talk in your sleep?”
19. “Stop fighting it.  You need sleep.”
20. “Goodnight, my love.  Sweet dreams.”
21. “Give me a goodnight kiss?”
22. “Darling, you’re shivering.  Come here, let me warm you up.”
23. “You’re still awake.  Something on your mind?”
24. “Sorry, were you sleeping?”
25. “I didn’t mean to wake you.  Go back to sleep.”
26. “When was the last time your head hit a pillow?”
27. “You twitch in your sleep.  It’s honestly one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen.”
28. “So then I- oh, you’re already asleep.”
29. “You don’t know the wonders a 30 minute power nap could do you right now.”
30. “It was just a nightmare, love.  It wasn’t real.”
31. “I understand wanting to get things done, but please don’t pull anymore all-nighters, babe.  You need to sleep.”
32. “Those energy drinks really aren’t good for you.”
33. “Look me in the eyes and tell me what time you went to bed last night.  Or if you went to bed, for that matter.”
34. “Don’t think I don’t notice you yawning.”
35. “I can’t sleep if you’re not here to cuddle with me.”
36. “It usually takes me a while to fall asleep too.”
37. “Do you wanna hear about the dream I had last night?”
38. “You always end up looking like you’re gonna fall asleep when I play with your hair.”  “Yeah, it’s relaxing.”
39. “You’re obviously tired.  Go lie down.”
40. “I’m gonna carry you to bed if you keep arguing with me about not needing sleep.”
41. “Sleep.  I’ll keep you safe.”
42. “I’m so sleepy.”
43. “Just try and keep your eyes open for five minutes.”
44. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”
45. “You should really get some rest.  You’ll feel so much better.”
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