#I want to draw the sopping wet blanket of a man | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lifepast · 4 months

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The house matron picked up the tea tray and gently tinkled down the flickering oil lamp white hallway with a deep wood floor. It was a darkening rain outside, wet and sloppy, attempting to invite itself in every time the weighted door to the quaint bed and breakfast creaked open with new guests.

The usual traveling entrepreneurs and their dogs, kept downstairs in a warmed basement where they received ample room to play, sleep and find nourishment, were all in their earthen rooms or playing cards in the shared living room made of brown leather couches, hand-sewn pillows, and ever-steady coffee. It was to the rooms she brought the tea, which also housed brief vacationers and local college goers, particularly women, using the stay-in as a quiet invitation to study and sleep acting as a sanctuary from the sometimes overwhelming academic life.

It was there that one young woman had found herself, pouring over her chemistry book, taking tiny notes on index cards with a thin felt-tipped pen that she had saved for such a purpose. A candle burned on the rounded desk and as well a small LED lamp crooked over the book. She was struggling with an allergy to the wool blanket on the bed, but it was minor, and required infrequent nose wiping and all but disappeared after she surrendered to the appropriate pill in her leather backpack.

It was nearly 10:30pm when a new guest entered the lower tavern, pulling cash out of his pocket to provide for the front desk and as well preparing to order dinner. He lived about 10 miles away, on a 3 acre property with a farm-style house where he owned a kiln and made pottery he sold online. It was an inherited business and wasn’t his only source of income. He was also a detective, concerning himself mostly with questionable activity at the local train station and surrounding small suburb which housed many vulnerable international students.

After consuming his meal of roasted hen in paprika, salted potatoes, and sautéed broccoli rabe, he pushed his tired hand, slightly offended by the flying rain drawing him into small hostel for the night, through his mellow, melted blond hair. It was time to go upstairs to his room and soon his feet patted up the carpeted stairs.

His room as it was, was directly one room down from the young female student’s room. The young woman still sat there, caged by her schoolwork, growing antsy from having not taken a break in over two hours. Finally, yawning, she got up and started stretching her legs. Now was the right time for tea her mind agreed.

Taking advantage of the need for some air and room, she left through the creaking door to hunt for tea. The tea here was a phenomenal treasure for those often weary students who had peppered the landscape. She was no exception naturally and fortunately our dear tea mistress was already on her floor, just at the threshold, to begin doing her room service rounds. With gratitude the student bounded over to the cart and quietly requested a full pot of ginger tea.

The full pots were only five small mugs worth, but were made in the rooms themselves, and stayed warm for hours over the complimentary burners. So, soon, with pot, she turned to go back to her room. Gleefully, she opened her door, only to find that it was the detective’s room she had begun to enter.

She jumped and gasped like she had seen a ghost when she saw him. He let out an audible reaction himself, and then she proceeded to spill her cool tea water all over her navy blue sweat pants. Without any clue how to react, she began laughing and apologizing. He went to the bathroom to get a towel and she began to cringe in embarrassment knowing he would have to help her, and she was also soaking wet.

He returned and although she had expected him to hand her the towel, he instead knelt at her feet and began sopping the water up. Her embarrassment melted a little, but now she felt self-conscious because of this man at her feet. “I don’t want you to slip,” he said, as he began to finish.

He was a good ten years older than her. She stammered out a thank-you and prepared to leave as soon as he had stood up, finished. When he did stand up he was only a foot away from her face, and he respectfully moved away very quickly so as to not make her anymore uncomfortable.

She then saw his badge on the desk, and his protective behavior began to make more sense. Her discomfort remained, however, as he clearly had some kind of authority in his line of work. He was sitting at the same desk she was in her room, pouring over paperwork. That was when her eyes focused on his face. He looked tired, sad, and bored. He was also very attractive.

He caught her stare and she quickly moved her eyes away, blushing a little. “I should go and dry off, thanks again,” she squeaked out turning to leave. “If you get as bored as me doing whatever you’re doing, feel free to drop by. With this rain I am assuming you’re at least going to stay here until it stops,” he said with his hand stroking the back of his head, noticing how attractive she was to him and becoming a little nervous. “I’m just in the room next door, I’ve got to study for my chemistry test, but if I need a break, I guess I now know where to go,” she said, shrugging. “Oh, what are you studying?” His interest clearly piqued. “Oh, it’s nothing, um, it’s,” she could not remember and, feeling embarrassed all over again finally said, “I don’t actually remember.”

He laughed, and then said, “I know the feeling. Well, if you want some help, while it’s been a long time since I’ve taken a class in ‘I don’t remember,’ I still live like that everyday and am comfortable with the subject.” She swallowed eagerly and said, without even realizing, “I would love a study partner.” “Shit,” she thought, “oh no, what have I done?”

He looked at her slightly surprised, as he had only been partially serious. He then pressed his lips together, took a deep breath, and then prepared to speak, shocked by his own behavior as well. “Ok, do you want help now?” “I need to first um, change my pants, and then sure. Haha, are you sure you actually want to help?” “What did you say the subject was a rain?” She suddenly remembered, “now I remember, it’s actually chemistry.”

“I’ll meet you downstairs.” He then proceeded to push his chair in to leave as she herself turned to change and meet him in communal living room. Then she stole a quick look at her watch. It was actually too late to spend time downstairs. Without having a choice, she turned to him and told him.

“Oh, well, I guess if you want, you could always bring your books into my room. I can leave the door open if you’d like.” He said.

“I’d like that,” she said, “but we might have to close your door. It gets drafty here. I come here almost every weekend.”

“Hm, well what you prefer, my room or yours? We can leave the door open and I can give you a blanket from my bed.”

“Let’s just do it in my room. I have all of my stuff there anyway,” She started to really feel the cold on her legs from the water, “besides, I need to change and I need more water for tea.”

He agreed and said to come and get him when she was ready. She then remembered she had no extra clothing and would have to wrap a blanket around herself. “So long as he doesn’t see me in my underwear, it will be fine,” she thought, “but I kind of want him to see me like that, oh god, how stupid and annoying. I’m just going to act like I never thought that at all. Besides there’s that guy at school. There’s the book he gave me on my desk in my room there, the twelve punches my frequent buyer card from the coffees he’s bought me, and there’s that lingering look and soft warm, wet kisses. He isn’t my boyfriend. He said himself he didn’t want a commitment that would compete with school. Not like I’m seriously considering this new guy anyway.”

She then strode into her room and filled the tea pot with water from her bottle, placing it on her burner. Then, she took off her pants and hung them in the bathroom. Last, she pulled the blanket off her bed and wrapped herself from the waist down. “Wow, not something I ever saw myself doing. Am I going to hop over to him?” Then, there was a knock on her door. It was him, and as if he could read mind. In her puffy blanket skirt, she gingerly opened the door. “I couldn’t remember if I said you should come and get me, so I figured I’d just walk over.” “I don’t remember either.” She then let him in and when she turned to face his back, she realized her bed was basically naked.

He said, “I would have given you my blanket. Here, put yours back, I’ll go get mine.” Fumbling, knowing she was partially naked underneath, she said, “oh no that’s ok, um, it will be fine, you can just sit on the ottoman if you don’t want to sit on the bed.”

“Ottoman it is.” She too, sat down, and careful to not expose herself, positioned herself in a diagonal from him, who has essentially at her knees when he sat down. For an hour he helped her by using the notecards. Initially, it was difficult to concentrate, but soon she slipped into full own student mode, and he thoroughly enjoyed watching her in such an authentic place, he couldn’t help but think.

Things quickly changed however, when she absentmindedly placed her foot on the ottoman, next to thigh. Without the blanket, he would have been able to see straight up her legs. The blanket had also fallen to the side a little, exposing her ankle, and that’s when he asked, “are you not wearing any pants?” He immediately regretted asking. She was too young in his mind, for anything but a kind human interaction, and far too vulnerable. Still, he couldn’t help himself. The look she got when she answered his questions properly just made his heart melt.

“Oh, oh, oh, um yeah, I didn’t have any other pairs, so yeah, blanket pants it is!” She said, dying a little inside. “Oh? Well, they look good on you.” He then said, dying alongside her because he couldn’t stop himself from complimenting her appearance, finally.

“You’re joking. I look foolish.” “You look warm and comfortable, as you should,” he said, relinquishing control and instead giving into his feelings for her.

She looked at him quizzically. Then she realized, thinking to herself, “is he flirting with me? No, of course not. It’s just some stupid blanket. He’s a police officer or whatever, right, a detective badge, he’s just trying to do the right thing.”

She then said, “you’re right, I’m totally comfortable and warm,” thinking to herself, “I could have just used a blow dryer to my pants,” slowly admitting she wanted to spend as much time with him as she could. He was, well he was hot, nice, and funny.

Seeing her lost in thought, he started smiling at her. She caught his smile, and they locked eyes, and that was when everything changed. With wide eyes, he took his hand and began to massage her ankle, eventually cupping her entire foot in his hand, removing the small white sock first. It felt amazing for them both and slowly he lifted her foot up to his mouth and kissed the arch. Her breathing became shallow as he then proceeded to kiss and suck on each toe, and then moaning in a low tone as he began to take enormous pleasure in what he was doing. He then quickly stopped, and looked at her pleadingly evidently sorry he hadn’t asked first.

She knew what his look meant, and the chemistry between them began to heat up even more as she leaned over to get closer to his face. “Can I show you how thankful I am to you for helping me study?” “Sure,” he said, blushing and grateful she wasn’t upset. “It involves your mouth against mine and doing what mouths do best for one another when they touch.” She couldn’t believe her strength and the audacity of her words. “I think I know what you mean,” he said softly, “will you show me?” And she began to kiss him gently. Hungry they were, and soon both of their mouths opened to taste the other.

He spent the night in her room. At one point, her purse on the night stand fell over and the contents fell out. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it later,” she said.

In the morning, although he was gone before she awoke, he didn’t leave for good. Her wallet had opened the night before when the purse had spilt out, and from the wallet fell her coffee punch card filled with the marks of the other man. Next to that card, however, was a new punch card, with twelve punches, and, upon closer inspection, the detective’s number. He had no idea that the other punch card was a gift from another man, but seeing it on the floor, he decided to reach for his own to leave as a gift. She started to cry.

Now, you may wonder how this could be my past life? I was the purveyor of the tea, a company started in the early 1900s.

#reincarnation

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mrskurono · 3 years

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Schweiden Sex Education: Intercourse || Wakatoshi Ushijima x Fem!Reader

Tags: mention of insecurities, vaginal penetration, slight size kink, soft sex, creampie, sex bruh

Character(s): Wakatoshi Ushijima (hq)

Word Count: 2.2k

a/n: this will be the final installment of this mini series, ngl it ended up more popular and more touchy feely than I thought it would. thank you everyone for reading <3

part (1) (2)

inter·course /ˈin(t)ərˌkôrs/

noun; sexual contact between individuals involving penetration

“Do you hate her?”

Ushijima blinked a handful of times at the voice going unregistered to him. Korai of course had to repeat himself.

“Do you hate our manager or something?” The second to newest Schweiden member craned his neck around to look at the same lady talking with the captain, “I mean...even since I started last season it seems like it but I dunno, do you just hate her or something?”

No longer the new guys, Ushijima still felt confused on what his teammate meant, “Why would you say that? I’ve never said that.”

Korai shrugged. White haired man taking the ball from his bigger mates grasp and chucking the volleyball at the real newbie coming into the gym when Tobio arrived. Korai gut laughed when the dark haired man didn’t catch it and only wasted a little more time before wiping at his eyes to look back at Ushijima with what he’d just said, “You spend so much time staring at her. Thought maybe you hated it her since never talked to her.”

Ushijima’s brows pinched in the middle with the deepest furrow, “I never said I hated anyone.”

Once more with a shrug Korai figured he’d drop it, “Well man, if you don’t hate her. You must have one hell of a crush on her then.”

The word rung in his head when you said it.

Sex.

You were naked under him. Rightfully so after his first attempt to bring you, or any woman, to an orgasm. He should feel proud if not a little smug. All he felt was nervous.

“Ok....sex,” You inhaled deeply now that most of your senses was collected. The real thing felt a lot different than your own hand and the same scenario being lit up on the tiny screen of your phone. Slight tingle from that orgasm you were wondering if you had been that hard up for a hook up. Dashing that from your mind you refocus on the Schweiden player before you, “I mean...I guess there’s not a lot to say about it. I’m sure you’ve seen porn or Korai I’m pretty sure played something off of Pornhub in the locker room at least once.”

That light anecdote didn’t seem to tear the man’s concentration away from you. Leaving you to wiggle a bit and get higher up on the bed. Thinking maybe he was going to follow. Ushijima remained staring at you with that all too familiar look on his face. A look you recall years worth of seeing from across the gyms at practice.

Without warning it dawns on you, maybe he doesn’t actually want to have sex with you. A feeling nothing short of claustrophobic when it hits you. The tingle you’ve felt since the locker room fizzles out with vigor. You’re exposed. Silly. Regretful. Suddenly to recount your words.

“I mean-” You stumble over words falling from your lips while looking up at him and trying to cover some part of you, “We don’t have to- Um Ushiwa- Uh Ushijima- I uh it’s fine if you don’t want to we can just forget this-”

“I don’t hate you.”

The slur of words from your mouth catch. His surprising you more. You stop trying to cover yourself with what little blanket you can up root. Instead your brows furrow uncharacteristically at him at the foot of the bed.

“What?”

Olive eyes dropping from you it’s the first time since he joined three years ago that you saw him actually break eye contact first. You’re nothing short of surprised when Ushijima, still naked, sits back on the edge of the bed. Easing up on the need to cover yourself. You realize he’s talking about something entirely different.

Brows pinched together you ask again what he meant. Crawling towards him now. Kneeling beside him unsure if you should lay a hand on him or something. His face seems complacent like normal but with the way he sounded. It just didn’t sound right to you.

Ushijima lifts his gaze to meet your naked body right next to his. Of course he couldn’t tear them away from your form before him. All those times he’d stared at you over the years. Only now realizing he’d been trying to think what you looked like in this exact light.

“...I...Korai thought I hated you,” He confesses in the weirdest manner. Finding the one thing he couldn’t take his eyes off of wasn’t your naked body. But your face, “I don’t....I never did. I just- I think I love you and it might have been my fault if I-”

Cut off directly by the feeling of your lips against his. There’s a spilt second the man doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Only to be thankful when he felt your hands gently take his and place them on your sides. Getting the gesture Ushijima curled his broad arms around your bare waist just as you curled your own arms around his neck. Delaying the need for a breath in the passionate kiss until finally neither of you could hold out.

“Lets make love instead,” You mutter against his lips. Feeling for the first time Ushijima trying to push back into the kiss like he wasn’t ready for it to end just yet. Drawing your fingers down from the nape of his neck. Small circles over his collar bone to dip down between his well defined chest, you look up at him and smile, “...because I think I might be in love with you.”

Nothing short of a glimmer in the otherwise deadpan expression. Ushijima for the first time since the locker roomer took a kiss from you. Not just taking it. He downright kissed you back into the middle of the bed. Lips never leaving yours it was barely any fumbling as he scooped his big hands under your bottom and pulled you into his hips. Leaving you to hold onto his shoulders as the urgency of the kiss translated over to your movements together.

Sooner than later you felt his cock rub against your inner thigh. Only breaking the kiss enough as you kissed his cheek and the corner of his mouth with a breathy whisper, “Put it in...please, I want you to do it.”

Nodding there wasn’t a question to be asked. Ushijima understood more than anything where he wanted his cock to go. You telling him only sealed the fact he craved no one else.

Gripping his cock there’s a second when you adjust your hips and allow his length to slip up between your soaked folds. Earning a pleasant moan to bubble up between your lips. Any other time you might have been worried to take someone so big. But that was the last thing in your mind right now. Consumed with need all you could think of was the stretch of his cock inside you.

Rewarded with the real thing faster than anything else. You gasp. Making him stop half way to which you panic and tell him through a loud moan to keep going. Ushijima can’t stop but sink his thick cock down to the base in your sopping wet cunt. Nothing he could even imagine prepared him for this.

“W-Warm-” The low rumble of a moan echoed in his chest. Ushijima unsure what to do pushed his lips back onto yours. Just the way your walls clenched around him and you engulfed his senses was ethereal to him.

“Move....how you wanna,” You whisper against his lips, “I want you to fuck me like you’ve been wanting to all these years.”

There was hesitation. You were right he had seen porn and what they did. But none of that seemed desirable. Right now all he wanted to do was feel you. Consume you. Make every fiber of his being tingle with your body.

Slow to start Ushijima began rocking his hips into yours. Each movement earning more than just a lowly moan from you. Assured that it was wonderful by your praise and touching all over him. Soon it became a need for him to snap his hips into yours. Watch you squirm under him, mouth agape and eyes locked onto him. Everything intoxicating to every single sense the man had.

“ ‘gonna cum-” You bite back a moan as your hips bounce with each forceful thrust, “I- I think I’m gonna cum-”

“Please-” Ushijima buried his face into the crook of your neck, panting, thrusts hard and deep as he felt himself approaching a familiar feeling, “Please cum- I want you-”

Tongue gliding over your parted lips and swallowing the knot in your throat. It’s nothing like the knot growing in your stomach. Boxed in completely by the enormous man above you. It’s hardly possible to snake your hand down to your clit. But when you do your free hand gripes the back of his neck as your fingers dance around your already sensitive bud, “I- It’s too much- Fuck-”

For a split second he wonders what is too much but that is dashed when the shudder in your body starts at your toes and every inch of you twitches under him. Sealing the deal for Ushijima when he feels nothing short of heaven when your cunt tightens around him in a way no mouth or hand could ever mimic. All that stamina in the world for nothing when he pushes his hips into yours. Desperate to follow your lead.

Rutting into you as deep as he can until the warm gush of cum overflows into your cunt. You’d never felt anything so intimate yet even as his lips found yours to kiss you. The twitch of Ushijima’s cock with each spurt of cum had you moaning into the kiss like a virgin all over again.

Both of you breathing harder than expected into the kiss. Finally came down from the high. His cock still buried in you and most of your body limp under him. You take a moment to swallow as you look up at the man before you. This time he was staring but you didn’t feel the need to turn away. Instead you smiled at him with a little giggle. And for the first time in nearly four years, Ushijima smiled back at you.

Minor Epilogue ;|

“Where’s Ushiwaka?” Korai dribbled the volleyball as he looked back towards the locker room.

Tobio looked up from his bottle after fiddling with the lid, “Hirugami didn’t say anything?”

White brows pinched together Korai bounced the ball as high as he could manage and huffed, “This is day three! He’s late and we get to wait for him!”

“You could just practice with Romeo and Sokolov before he comes.” Tobio offered without much concern as he grabbed the volleyball before Korai could catch it.

“Don’t break the lights Hoshiumi!” Hirugami shouted across the gym as he caught sight of one of the second youngest Schweiden harassing the volleyballs.

Grumbling to himself Korai snatched the ball back from Tobio, “Of course Hirugami-san!” Content with dribbling the ball at a much more manageable height, Korai looked around for a short stint at attendance, “You notice our manager has been late recently too?”

“And?” Tobio shouldered his duffel bag without a chance of even feigning interest in his teammates rant.

Brows still pinched Korai glared out at the double doors of the Schweiden’s gym, “I bet they’re hooking up. I bet- Look!” Korai skidded to a stop mid sentence when through the double doors it was the late Schweiden in question. Undoubtedly with their manager at his side. Like a detective Korai pounced on the chance to interrogate them but that was lost among the chaos when all of the Scweiden team witnessed Ushijima lean down and give their ever so wonderful team manager a kiss on the lips.

That’s when all insanity broke loose.

Korai was on them like stink on shit. Tobio and Toshiro ready to intercept Korai before his rabid-ness scared the new love birds away. Tatsuto wanting a better look at the drama amongst the crew. Leaving Fukuro and Nicollas to exchange glances at each other as they hoisted up the volleyball net.

“Is that Ushijima and y/n?” Nicollas peered over to the bustling drama at the front of the gym.

Fukuro, minding his own business, nodded, “Think they’ve been going out for a while now.”

Smiling as Ushijima’s face seemed stone serious as ever and y/n’s face flush red as the white haired Schweiden had some serious question, Nicollas laughed as remembered that feeling, “Ah young love....wish there was an educational course one could take when learning the affairs of the heart.”

Fukuro snort laughed and tightened the bindings on the net they’d be using for practice if they ever stopped their gawking, “Yeah, we call that sex ed here.”

Nicollas chuckled when he saw their lovely manager punch Korai in the side. Revealing the oddest sight of Ushijima smiling ever so slightly on his stoic features while the rest of the Scweiden’s rallied around the new couple as the two seniors could only stand back and laugh, “Sex and love education....I think we could all use that.”

a/n: The end is finally here! Honestly I can’t believe I’ve actually finished a series in the first place! To everyone who’s read and supported it thank you from the bottom of my heart. This was too much fun to write and I won’t lie I might have a little soft spot in my heart for Ushijima now <3

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live-the-fangirl-life · 3 years

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Rainy Day Rescuer

Feyre Archeron x Rhysand - OneShot

Feyre gets locked out in the rain and fears she'll have to tough out the storm. That is, until a kind stranger opens his window.

Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language

2130 words

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Feyre’s favorite thing about her apartment building wasn't the location or the free parking—although she did love that—it was the rooftop.

She’d lived in the building almost a month before realizing she could access the roof. The padlock on the door was apparently for appearances only, and it easily came off when she pulled on it. She figured out how to rest it back on the door so that when she was out on the roof the door still looked locked to anyone who didn't know better.

So far, she hadn't run into any of her neighbors trying to share the spot, but she knew someone else used it. Normally, she came up here to paint or to think and look at the stars. The view from the roof was lovely; she could see the city center and all the lit-up buildings, and the Sidra river that flowed through it.

The first time she set up her easel, one of her paintbrushes rolled away, and when she tracked it down behind an old broken crate she found a book had been carefully tucked away behind it.

Feyre couldn't help it when she picked up the book to get a better look at it. She glanced around quickly before chiding herself, knowing that no one else was out there with her. She recognized it as some sort of mythology retelling. Feyre flipped through it, trying to find some name or any indication of who it belonged to. All she found was an old receipt from a clothing store being used as a bookmark.

Spotting her runaway paintbrush, she grabbed it and put the book back where she found it.

That wasn't the last time she saw that book, and it certainly wasn't the last time she lost one of her paintbrushes.

In the next few weeks, every time Feyre went out to the roof she looked for the book.

It was always in that same place, hidden away so it wouldn't be noticed. But every time she opened the book the bookmark was moved a little further along.

She also started noticing annotations written in the margins. Feyre tried to imagine what this person must be like. It was odd, but kind of fascinating to follow along with this person’s progress.

She tried to focus on the fascinating part, and not the part that made her feel a bit like a creep for peeping into this person’s thoughts.

Except, when she made her routine book check that night, it was gone.

Feyre tried not to feel too disappointed. Why was she so invested in another person’s book? But it had become a constant that she looked forward to, and now it was gone. She could only hope they would start another one.

She laid out a thin blanket and sat down to look at the stars.

She must have dozed off at some point because she was woken up by raindrops hitting her face. It wasn't heavy yet, but she could tell it was going to start soon.

Ignoring the drizzle, she glanced at her phone. Feyre groaned and sat up, rubbing her face.

“Ugh, okay Fey, let’s call it a night.” She mumbled to herself, sleepy and moving slowly. She packed the blanket in her large tote bag and went to go back inside. Pulling on the door, she stumbled back a step. She was too tired, her grip was already slipping.

Feyre adjusted the bag on her shoulder and pulled the door again.

It didn't move.

She gripped the handle with both hands and pulled, hard.

Nothing happened.

“No, no, no, no, no…”

Feyre was wide awake now. This couldn't be happening. Shit.

She threw her bag down and used all her strength to open the door she ultimately knew wouldn't budge.

Breathing heavily from the exertion, she stepped back from the door.

“Shit.”

The rain was beginning to pick up.

“Really?!”

Lunging for her bag, Feyre dug around until she felt her phone. Gripping it, she unlocked it and was about to find someone to call for help...but she had no service.

How could she not have any service? Oh, gods, she was going to be stuck out on the roof, in the rain, until someone decided to come out there. It could be who-knows-how-long until that happened.

Spinning around, Feyre caught sight of her salvation.

“The fire escape!” Beaming, she grabbed her bag and ran over to it. “You beautiful, fantastic fire escape, help me out.”

Feyre managed to climb down the four stories of stairs and ladders without slipping on the slick metal. Gods, wouldn't that be a sight? She’d slip and come tumbling down the rest of the way, providing free entertainment to whoever walked past the building’s back alley.

When she finally made it to the lowest landing she tried to lower the final ladder that would bring her to the ground.

Only, it wouldn't move.

“Come on,” she muttered, still trying to force it down, “Don’t do this to me. I’m so close!” Feyre looked down to see the drop. Cringing, she admitted it was farther than she trusted herself to jump without breaking something—most likely her.

Thunder boomed and lightning flashed across the sky. Feyre pressed herself against the building as the rain finally poured down.

“Seriously?!” She shouted up into the apparent waterfall above her head.

A knock from behind her startled her enough that she jumped around and let out a loud shriek.

“Um, are you okay?”

A voice came from a window set into the wall that she hadn't noticed before with a man’s face pressed up against it. Through the rain streaming down the glass, she couldn't tell if he looked more concerned or wary at her appearance.

It took her a second to respond.

“No.” She tried to shake the wet hair out of her face. “I’m not.”

“Are you trying to go up or down?”

Ah. He was probably worried she was just some random person who decided to hop up onto his balcony landing.

“Down.” She said, trying not to think of how bizarre it must be for him to look out and see a woman stuck outside his window, sopping wet.

This really wasn't how she wanted to make first impressions with her neighbors.

“I got locked out on the roof and tried to get down the fire escape, but,” she gestured to herself and the now downpouring rain that was making this conversation difficult, “it didn't really work.”

She hoped he would offer before she had to ask the insane request.

Thankfully he did.

His eyebrows shot up and he seemed to finally notice how bad the rain was. Hastily opening the window, he gestured for her to come in.

“Come in, it looks awful out there.”

Before she could think better of accepting the stranger's invitation to literally climb into their apartment, she picked up her soaking bag from the grate at her feet and crawled over the windowsill, quickly closing the window behind her to block the storm.

Maneuvering to a standing position, Feyre took a moment to take a breath and thank whoever was listening for her unexpected savior.

She turned to face him. He was tall, she would have to crane her neck up if stood much closer. And he had vibrant violet eyes that the artist in her wanted to study.

“Hang on a second.” He left her standing in his living room. Feyre looked around at the sofa and tv that took up most of the space, the bookshelf propped against one wall, and pictures of friends on the wall.

The man came back in with a towel in hand.

“Here, try this.” He handed it to her politely.

“Thanks.” She quickly wrapped it around herself, trying to dry off and stop shivering.

“No problem.” He looked like he was going to ask her something when something on the bookshelf caught her eye.

“It was your book?” She gasped, pulling the familiar volume from the shelf. Feyre whirled around to face the dark-haired man who was looking at her warily. “You’re the one who’s been using the roof!”

He stepped closer to her and gently took the book from her hands, casually flipping through it. Flicking his eyes up at her, he asked, “How did you know about my book?”

Feyre could feel her cheeks heating and she could've sworn a smirk made its way across his face.

“I, uh, found it one day.”

“You found it?” he asked skeptically. “I hid it behind some old box, how did you find it?”

At least he just looked curious, and mildly amused, and not disturbed at her snooping. Yeah, maybe it was tucked away, but anyone who tried for more than a minute could’ve found it, so she didn't feel as bad.

Drawing as much pride as she could muster when she was dripping water onto this man’s carpet, she huffed, “It was a crate, not a box.” He grinned and she went on, “and for your information, I dropped a paintbrush and it rolled over there. I found the book when I was chasing my brush. I don't actively seek out other people’s things to snoop.”

His grin widened as she explained and by the end, he was chuckling.

“And here I thought you just really wanted to get to know my reading tastes.”

She scoffed, but hid a grin, “Yeah, sure. I don't even know you.”

As she said it, she realized it was true.

Besides the fact that he lived in her building and was kind enough to let her in from the rain, she had no idea who this man was.

It seemed he remembered the same thing as he gave her a charming smile and held out his hand.

“You can call me Rhys.”

“Rhys?” She raised a brow. She’d never met anyone named Rhys before.

“My full name is Rhysand, but,” he paused to wink at her, “the people I like call me Rhys.”

Feyre rolled her eyes at his not-so-subtle flirting but met his hand with her own.

“Feyre. Just Feyre.” She held his gaze for a few more minutes before they both dropped their hands.

“Well, Just Feyre, I think I have something for you.”

Before she could respond, he vanished into the other room. He had something for her? What? Was this some other lame attempt at flirting?

She’d let him flirt if he wanted to, maybe she was a little interested to see what he’d try.

But he came back out to stand in front of her with one hand behind his back.

“Yes?” She tried to peek around him, but he angled his body away so she couldn't see what he was holding.

Leaning in close to her, Rhys said, “I believe that is yours.” With a flourish, he brought his hand in front of him.

“My paintbrush!” Feyre couldn't believe it. She looked back and forth between the brush and the man holding it, “I’ve been looking for this one. I lost it weeks ago! How do you have it?”

Rhys smiled broadly at her as she took it from his outstretched hand.

“I found it near the back corner one night, it must have just rolled away from you. It looked like it could blend right into the wall.”

Ceasing her inspection of the brush, shocked that she had found it—that Rhys had had it—she looked at him and beamed.

He blinked, almost dazedly, as he watched her smile.

“Thank you!”

Without thinking, she reached up and wrapped her arms around him in a quick hug. Rhys tensed, and at that moment Feyre remembered that she was still soaking wet from the rain. Wincing, she hastily pulled away before he had a chance to return her hug.

“Sorry. I got excited.” She glanced down to see the small puddle on the floor beneath her and cringed. “I should probably go.”

“Hm? Oh.” Rhys cleared his throat and nodded, “Right. You probably want to change into something dry.”

“Yeah.” They both stood there awkwardly staring at each other, not sure what to say next.

“Okay,” Feyre picked up her bag and took a step towards the door. “I’m just gonna...” She trailed off as she and Rhys pivoted around each other so that she was closer to the door.

He walked with her the last few steps, pausing when she opened the door and turned back to him.

“Thank you, Rhys. For the paintbrush, and for not making me stand outside like a drowned cat all night.”

His laugh made Feyre crack a smile.

“Anytime Feyre, darling.”

She smiled.

“Goodnight Rhys.”

He mirrored her smile.

“Goodnight Feyre.”

Maybe getting locked out wasn’t so bad, after all.

***

Taglist:

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@becarefuloflove

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@danibutterr

@doubt-less

@emily-gsh

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@i-have-but-one-brain-cell

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato

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@stardelia

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@swankii-art-teacher

@tomtenadia

@westofmoon

@whimsicallyreading

#feyre archeron #rhysand #rhys #rhys x feyre #feyre x rhysand #feysand #feysand fic #feysand au #fanfic #fanfiction #au #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #oneshot #feyre

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bokettochild · 3 years

Text

Tired Feet and Nimble Fingers

Sooo.....

I wrote more Ravio fics. This is one of two, the second one still needs to be reread and checked for errors, but rest assured to whomever requested a fic for Ravio getting some fussing, I nearly killed the kid for you :)

Mr. Hero had nice hands.

Oh sure, they were rather thin, and a bit knobby at the knuckles, aged in a way most people their age would not understand for decades yet, but they were nimble, quick, and forever flitting from one thing to another with the easy grace of a person who’s done everything with their life except sit still and rest.

Mr. Hero’s hands were worn and aged but feather light in their touch and still impossibly firm when he’d grab Ravio by the scarf and pull him down the one inch that was between the two of them so he could glare at him for one thing or another. Honestly, he rarely really did anything questionable, but the ever irritated “Why?” that Mr. Hero always shot at him when he raised the price of an item or tacked on another fee, be it emotional repercussions charges for tending his wounds, or a petty increase when he’d been made to actually worry for someone else, or even in the rare instance when Mr. Hero managed to actually make him angry. Either way, soft or firm, Mr. Hero had nice hands, and on the rare instance Ravio had actually seen him remove his rings (Mr. Hero had complained of swelling, and had nearly had to pry them off) he always smiled at the sight of them.

Was that weird? Probably. But there was a lot you could tell about a person by their hands, and Mr. Hero’s told the story of someone who gave and fought for others since he’d been able, and even if the caring person hid behind the shadows of his bangs or the icy pain in his eyes, Ravio knew that person was still in there.

And at times like this, he got to actually see it.

“What are you doing?” The merchant shifted uncomfortably, glancing down at the other end of the couch where Mr. Hero had been sitting since he’d stumbled through the door with a tired groan. He’d collapsed onto the couch not long after, drenched and covered in mud, and it had been all Ravio could do to convince him to shed his extra layers and change into something clean, at least. Sure, he’d had to actually dig through the scant wardrobe in the bedroom to find something, but once the over-sized tunic had been shoved in the veteran hero’s face, he’d agreed to strip off his wet things, and Ravio had given him the space to do so while he’d made some warm cocoa for the two of them.

He would have preferred cider, but Mr. Hero still refused to share the recipe with him.

Now, however, he’d flopped onto the couch himself, uncaring for the fact that he’d had to settle his legs in the lap of his friend. After all, if Mr. Hero minded, he would have pushed him off. As was though, the pink-haired teen was staring at his feet with no small amount of displeasure, and Ravio was half considering pulling them back to himself and resigning himself to just curling up on the couch into one corner so he could give the other boy his space.

Firm hands latched around his boot, tugging with a small grunt and surprising the merchant greatly. “Mr. Hero, I just-”

“No shoes.” The pink-haired hero huffed. “Not on the couch.”

“Says the one who trudges dirt all over my freshly cleaned floors!” Ravio huffed, trying not to wiggle too much as Mr. Hero not only pulled off his shoes but, after making a disgusted face at the smell of his feet, had also yanked his socks off, throwing them over to the pile of sopping laundry on the floor. Ravio made a note to pick that up and help wash it later.

“My floors.” Mr. Hero corrected him, tugging the towel Ravio had given him earlier off of his shoulders and wiping its wet ends over the merchant’s feet, making him stiffen. “It’s my house I’ll have you know.”

“Mr. Hero, are you- are you cleaning my feet?”

“It’s not like you ever do it, when’s the last time you bathed, you filthy bunny?”

“Two days ago.” Ravio huffed into his cocoa, savoring the taste and the thrum of warmth that bloomed in his chest both at the drink and the sensation of Mr. Hero’s nimble fingers helping to clean the grime from his, admittedly, filthy feet. “More recently than you, I daresay, Mr. Hero.”

“I just showered.” Violet eyes flitted up to meet his as Mr. Hero motioned to the door ad likely the stormy weather outside.

“That doesn’t count!”

“It does for me.”

“When did you last bathe? With soap?”

Mr. Hero didn’t answer, instead continuing to rub the dirt and dust off the bottoms of his house-mate's feet with the wet towel. Ravio hmphed. A fight for another day then, it isn’t as if he had the energy to draw a bath and push his friend into it anyways.

A delightful, rough sensation rubbed over the base of his foot, firm and still somehow incredibly relaxing, and the bunny merchant found himself torn between sinking into the cushions with a sigh as some of the pain in his limbs faded and staring down at Mr. Hero to see what had been done. In the end, he’d sunk into the cushions of the couch, lids fluttering as a heavy sigh pulled itself from his lungs. “What-”

“You’re as tight-string as my gran’s horses.” Mr. Hero drawled, and the sensation repeated itself, warm pressure sliding across the ridge of his foot. “This used to work on my uncle, relax.”

It took longer than necessary to actually realize that his friend was rubbing his feet, but Ravio was too warm and comfortable to really care, especially with how sore the appendages in question had been with scurrying here and there over the last few days tending to the shop.

Mr. Hero’s hands were miracle workers, and Ravio was hardly even awake when the veteran hero had finally stopped with his self-assigned task, pushing himself up and leaving Ravio to stretch out over the length of the couch. All the merchant could register was the increase of weight on top of him, the clinking of two empty mugs being placed in the kitchen sink, and the door creaking open.

He never felt the draft when Mr. Hero left back into the outside world to continue his quest, but when he woke the next morning, it was to find the hero’s favorite blanket spread out over the top of him and a fresh pair of fuzzy socks slipped over his clean and no longer painfully tense feet.

“Ravio, sit.” Mr. Hero groaned, leaning back on the couch and pinned in place by the sailor using his legs as a back rest. “If you don’t, I swear I’m going to have Twilight throw you at the couch!”

The merchant in question pouted, he’d been trying his best to tidy the living room, after all, Mr. Hero and his family had been quite unexpected that evening and the place was, unfortunately, a mess. One had to take inventory now and again, and the sad fact of it was that that required pulling everything off the shelves and out of storage and from around the house to count it up and figure out if he should risk attempting to return to Lorule or attempting to work Mr. Hero’s small smithy out back in order to restock his items.

He’d only counted up everything and had been working on cleaning and polishing his various items when the heroes had come knocking at the front door, and then he’d been so busy helping them warm up from the chill (they were all wearing the scarves he’d given them and it pleased him to no end) and making a meal with Mr. Hero that he’d been left unable to finish gathering the things that had been scattered across the floor. Of course, after dinner was finished, he’d set right to it, but now that everyone was settled around the fire with warm mugs in hand and fluffy scarves around their necks, Mr. Hero seemed to only be agitated by his puttering about and moving everything again.

To be fair, he hadn’t stopped moving for the last thirty minutes since the others had helped gather his things back up so they could sit, but there was so much to put away!

“Mr. Hero, I still-”

“Sit.” Mr. Hero squeaked grouchily, earning a few giggles as Mr. Rancher and Mr. Chosen Hero exchanged glances, smiles wide. “My feet hurt just from looking at you.”

Like it or not, Ravio’s ears were already pricking up at those words.

Since that first time, Mr. Hero had done him the favor of massaging his feet after a hard day many times, and as much as Ravio didn’t want to expect it of him, it was incredibly nice to have someone fuss over him, if only for a little bit, and if there was even a chance that it would happen again, well...

It was entirely intentional that he flopped onto the couch, feet resting easily in Mr. Hero’s lap as he stretched out. He could have sat down, he really could, but the fact of it was that he simply didn’t want to. Fortunately, Mr. Hero didn’t seem to mind, and too the merchants delight his friend immediately started pulling off his shoes with the same old familiar huff and wrinkling of his button nose, tossing the shoes as far away as possible to avoid having to remain in contact with them for long.

It was a practiced and much appreciated ritual that was Mr. Hero helping him relax after a long day. Just as cocoa or cider was prepared when either was having a particularly long or difficult day, or how Ravio always made sure Mr. Hero ate three meals a day and slept for at least four hours, taking care that his friend wasn’t positioned too uncomfortably wherever it was that he finally passed out. Mr. Hero touching his feet was normal, just like him playing with Mr. Hero’s hair once the other boy had settled down at last.

Perhaps though, it wasn’t all that common for the others.

“Vet?”

Mr. Hero blinked up from his work, violet eyes meeting the midnight blue of Mr. Rancher impassively.

“What in Ordonia are ya doin’?”

The veteran hero cocked a brow. “Foot massage, he won’t relax otherwise, and foot pains a-” Captain Hero Sir Jr. shot a look their way and Mr. Hero quickly amended what he’d been about to say. “Foot pain sucks.”

“You are touching feet.” Mr. Rancher wrinkled his nose. “Isn’t that a bit... gross?”

“Says the man who eats bee larva.” Came the quipped reply. “I wash them first, pities sakes.”

“By my head!?!?!?” Tune started jumping up and away and shooting Mr. Hero a hurt look. “Like, yeah, sure, I help Granny on bad days too, but warn a fellow if you’re gonna be having feet by his head.”

“Don’t sit on my legs.”

Ravio chuckled, letting the noise and chatter wash over him.

Mr. Hero’s hands never failed to sooth the pains of the day.

The heroes had stumbled in time and again over the months, and Ravio had grown quite used to their presence. Time passed differently on both ends of things, but he’d since learned when abouts to expect that they'd appear, and the house was, thankfully, stocked fully for each visit.

Autumn had brought about harvest, and the heroes had darted in and out, occasionally offering help and other times only crashing wearily in the living room and Mr. Hero’s bedroom for the night before they had to return to chasing the monsters. Today was one of the longer stays, especially if how Mr. Captain Hero Sir was moving so stiffly was any indication.

“Do you need me to step on you again?” Mr. Smithy asked worriedly as Mr. Captain Hero Sir eased his way down onto the couch, earning a few looks both from the merchant and the other heroes while Sheerow flitted about the man's head, chirruping worriedly and earning a gentle word or so from the captain.

Mr. Captain Hero Sir was in quite the state, stiff as a board and moving as poorly as the old pump in the village. It made him worried, and try as he might, he couldn’t think of any of his items that would help.

Mr. Hero appeared to already have an answer though. “Tunic off, Cap, and on the couch.”

Sharp blue blinked over in confusion to where Mr. Hero was already shedding his boots and rolling up his sleeves with a purpose. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Massage. Works wonders for back pain. Hop to it or I’m rescinding my offer.”

It was one thing to be on the receiving end of matters, but another entirely to be one of those who watched. Mr. Hero put his full weight into his hands as he worked, kneading out the knots in his friend's muscles while Mr. Captain Hero Sir melted into the couch with little relieved noises.

Maybe it took the others realizing that the vet didn’t just help him, but after that it wasn’t at all uncommon for him to carry in his attempts at cider or his wonderful cocoa and see Mr. Hero standing over one of the others and putting his clever hands to work in soothing tensed muscles back into place, the heroes under his hands melting under his touch.

The first time he heard Mr. Hero humming under his breath while he worked, the other heroes had all looked incredibly surprised, but not upset in the slightest. It was a lovely tune after all, and Tune himself started playing with his baton in time the gentle music, swaying in his seat and waving the instrument while the others continued working on repairing and tending their various items and clothing articles.

There was a pattern. For Mr. Captain Hero Sir it was his back, although rather rarely, and the same went for Mr. Chosen Hero.

For Captain Hero Sir Jr. It was his neck and shoulders.

Mr. Smithy got stress headaches that seemed to ease when someone helped message his temples.

Mr. Rancher had problems with his left wrist specifically.

Ravio of course had poor feet, and while Tune and Wild seemed to be mostly left unscathed from the repetitive pains that the others did, they took every opportunity to cling to Mr. Hero with their whole bodies when they felt that they wanted pets or attention when their mentor’s/brothers were too busy.

He’d attempted to return the favor all of one time. The black eye and bloody nose he got out of it weren’t even made better with the nearly tearful apologies of his best friend as Mr. Hero had jumped to his feet and dashed outside to get some ice for the injury.

Once the blood was cleaned up, the vet had sat in shame as Ravio had joined the others in teasing him for his “killer reflexes”.

“I can’t help it! People touching my feet- It-” Mr. Hero tugged at his hair frustratedly, eyes turning to the sky hopelessly. “I’m sorry, Ravio. It was an accident, I swear.”

“I know, Mr. Hero, I know.” He’d giggled out the reassurance, but from that day on he avoided touching Mr. Hero’s feet in any way possible.

(Oddly enough though, that didn’t stop a few of the others from trying, and Mr. Hero’s sleep was interrupted many times by heroes that had been kicked in the nose or even the mouth because they’d dared each other to touch the teen’s feet while he slept. Mr. Captain Hero Sir had complained for days until his own black eye healed, and Mr. Hero hadn’t even bother apologizing, stating that the others shouldn’t have tempted fat so foolishly.)

He felt a bit guilty for not returning the favor, but he knew better than to try again where so many others had failed.

And then winter had sprung up. Winter with its harsh gales that blew in half frozen heroes that tracked ice and snow across the floor as they bundled in front of the fire, wrapped head to toe for the weather. Winter when he’d brew hot cocoa to warm them all up, letting Mr. Hero tug down blankets to wrap around their on-and-off house-mates (guests no longer applied at this point). The mugs offered were warm, and Ravio smiled as each hero offered him a word of thanks as his tray grew lighter and lighter until he only had the two mugs left.

Mr. Hero had pulled together his usual nest before the fire. His huge blanket and a few spare pillows all bundled together into a comfortable place to sit for the younger heroes in order to make up for the lack of a second couch, and the vet sat in its center, still working to arrange the cushions with stiff fingers and chattering teeth until Ravio had pulled on his friend’s tunic and urged him to sit down.

When he offered the mug though, Mr. Hero had fumbled it and nearly dropped it, a hiss of irritation whishing from between his teeth and he glared down at his stiff digits. “Blast! Din’s sake, why does the freaking cold always freaking-”

Warm hands, worn from housekeeping and smithy work, wrapped around the vet’s as Ravio gently rubbed some warmth back into the stiff fingers. Mr. Hero started slightly at the touch, but didn’t complain as the merchant continued to press his into the rises and against the bones of his friend’s gnarled hands, offering warmth and relief against the pain and the cold both for a few short minutes, and Mr. Hero melted into the touch, as he always inevitably did, letting Ravio have his way for the moment and leaning to sit back-to-back with Wild while the merchant worked.

When he’d released his housemate, it’d only been to press a mug into the vet��s hands, but then he’d been settling across from him on the blanket nest, stockinged feet coming to rest in his friend’s lap as he’d pulled his own mug close for a sip. Violet eyes offered a begrudging smile that was returned in rupee green, but no words were spoken between the two as they enjoyed their cocoa.

Mr. Captain Hero Sir however wasn’t about to let it pass. “So, hand holding now, uh? Should I be talking to Fable about a wedding day?”

Ravio was certain that the only thing keeping some very rude signs from being exchanged as the fact that Mr. Hero wasn’t willing to stress his hands further or release the warmth that he held in them. The pink-haired hero did shoot a very disappointed look towards the captain though.

#do not tag as ravio/i #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu legend #lu ravio #fluffics #ketto's cottagecore collection #idiot writes fluff #idiot writes cottagecore

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shoutogepi · 4 years

Text

Shinsou Says

Shinsou Hitoshi

word count : 5k

[ ✘ (nsfw!) ]

themes : sauce alert !!! dom!shinsou, (shy)sub!reader, quirk use, teasing, dirty talk— kitten dynamics w surprise daddy

bio : Shinsou comes over in the dead of the night to find you touching yourself without permission, and he immediately has the perfect punishment in mind.

author’s note : i.. i’m not sure where this came from tbh cuz i’m not much of a shinsou fucker but… these days he has just been hittin different 😳😅

side note : usually i use the first name for bf smut, but a part of me really just wanted to keep the alliteration with Shinsou Says/Simon Says so deal with it lmao

also available on AO3 here

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🄰 breathy sigh floats from your lips as your back arches off the mattress, the sheets beneath you damp with sweat. The blankets at your feet are spilling off the edge of the bed, a crumpled pile of havoc collecting on the floor. You can’t help but writhe and moan, your fingers prodding gently against your clenched walls.

The clock on the other side of the room flashes red numbers at you, reminding you that it’s much too late to call your boyfriend over. You’d gone to sleep at a reasonable hour, but you had awoken in a sweat and in the most lustful state, very much craving his touch. However, you’re aware that he has a demanding profession, and to bother him into coming over just to fulfill your wanton needs— you couldn’t possibly bring yourself into sending him a text.

The moonlight streams into your bedroom through the cracks between the blinds, illuminating the area in a soft white glow. Your phone casts a dim light in the darkness of the room, your headphones twisting as your body squirms around. The intimate video he had taken just a few sessions ago lighting up your screen, his heavy breaths fill your ears as your fingers slide across your sopping core. Teasing yourself, dipping the digits in two knuckles deep and rubbing your walls for a moment before taking them back out, trailing north to touch your clit.

You close your eyes, letting your memories take over and attempting to replay the feelings you know he can give you. Coaxing your body into recalling how his smooth palms feel as they hold your legs open, his wet kisses trailing around your torso and spending extra time on your breasts. Fuck, the thought of him whispering those nasty words he always says as his nimble fingers delve into your heat.

It’s no wonder you don’t hear the front door open.

Shinsou steps into the dark apartment, the light from the hallway licking against the wooden floor in contrast to the shadowy room. He frowns, taking the spare key out of the doorknob as quietly as he can. Perhaps it wasn’t a great idea to come over unannounced in the middle of the night? But after such a long day and a hopeless few hours of attempting to sleep, he’d found himself briskly walking the couple of blocks that separated the two of you. He told himself that all he’d wanted was to slip into bed and wrap his arms around you… but then again, there was the raging hard on he’d been sporting for the past hour.

All doubt leaves his mind as he hears a soft moan leak out from your bedroom, his ears almost physically perking in interest as he hurriedly takes off his shoes. He tries his best not to make a single sound, silently padding across the floor towards your door.

He can hear all the noises tumbling out of your throat now, your unrestricted whimpers of pleasure making his fingers itch with prickles and warmth rush through his body toward his pants. The door is cracked just shy of allowing him unnoticeable entrance, and he can’t help himself as he slides into the room, cringing as the hinges squeak in protest. But you don’t notice him at all, his recorded groans stopping your ears from picking up the alerting noise.

Shinsou is glad you hadn’t heard him, because the look on your face is damn ethereal. Your features contorted in rampant euphoria, he watches your hands slide along the body he adores so much, sucking in a breath of air as your lips part and let out a particularly heavy moan.

“Ugh, Shinsouuu.”

His pants suddenly feel incredibly tight, and he licks his lips, shifting his weight between his feet. The noise of your fingers plunging into your wet cunt falls heavily on his ears, making him bite his lip. Fuck, how long have you been touching yourself for? And is that your homemade sextape playing on your phone?

“Ahah— you feel so fucking good!”

Your cries throw him over the edge, his body moving before his brain can process the command. He’s at the edge of the bed in three strides, menacing over your oblivious figure rolling against your own hand.

“My, my, kitten.”

The gasp that rips through you sends a cocktail of dread and desire washing through his bones, your eyes flying open to meet his predatory gaze.

“Shinsou!” This time you squeak it out almost shamefully, your fingers flying from your pussy and landing flat on the bed next to your hips. The embarrassment thrown over your cheeks makes him gush on the inside, but all that surfaces to his face is a smirk. His eyelids are hung at half mast, his watchful violet eyes regarding you.

“Ah ah, don’t stop on my accord darling. You’ve got me quite invested in this show of yours,” he tantalizes, knees falling atop the plush mattress.

A whimper escapes you, your eyes shutting briefly at the tone in his voice. You can feel the bed dip as he slides closer to you, tugging the headphones out of your ears and disposing of them next to the pillow above you. He hangs his body over yours, hands so teasingly close to your skin.

“Did you hear me, kitten? I said, keep touching yourself,” he demands, his voice level and clear.

Your eyes still screwed shut, your now clammy palms rub on the sheets, mortified to have been caught committing such heinous acts of desire. “I— I can’t, Shinsou, it’s too… I’m so embarrassed,” you whine, brows drawing together as you wiggle slightly underneath him in distress. The friction of your thighs rubbing together makes your arousal spread, coating your skin with slick.

His lips only pull back further, grinning down at you joyfully. “What d’ya mean, kitten? I should be mad you were being naughty and playing with yourself like that, but knowing you’re so desperate for me…” he leans in closer, lips grazing the sensitive skin on your jaw as you throw your head to the side. “Well, what kind of hero would I be if I left my kitten all alone, knowing she’s in such distress?”

His words make a moan of shock and want slither out of you, your back bending and pushing your body against his. Your purple-haired boyfriend really has quite a way with words. Your fingers meet his knees, gliding up his lean, muscular thighs and dragging your fingernails along them. “Please, I— god, I need you so bad,” you plead, hips adjusting as you look at him again.

His eyes are drinking you up, traveling over your sinful pout to your hands on his legs, and then to that glistening pussy of yours that he just knows is fucking soaked. “Mmm, let’s see how I can help then,” his lips greet yours forcefully, passionately engaging them in a desperate dance. His hand slides under your curved back, dry fingers curling along the damp skin in contrast, his dull fingernails sending shivers to your spine. He pulls away and grabs the hand that had been in your cunt, capturing your gaze as his lips rove over your fingers. His mouth taking them in and lathering his tongue along your skin, he savors the tangy flavor of your desire with an intense look.

“You’re too embarrassed to show me how you touch yourself, baby? Why so shy?” His words only make you impossibly wetter, and your lip trembles as you mewl softly in response.

Shinsou accepts the noise as a reply, tilting his head slightly as an idea comes to mind. He sits up, his hand sliding up to the center of your back and taking you with him.

“Do you wanna play a game, kitten?” His inquiry has you curiously regarding him, trying to see if there is any ill intent lingering in him. But you can’t find anything, only being sucked into his ravenous eyes. He presses further, wanting to convince you more than anything to play along. “I promise you’ll have a good time.”

You do trust your boyfriend after all— he’d never misguided your desires before, always satiating your every need. So you find yourself nodding again, arms wrapping around his neck hesitantly.

The grin on his lips makes your heartbeat quicken.

Shinsou’s hands cup the backs of your thighs, scooping you into his arms as he slides off the bed. He steals your focus away as his lips cover yours again, his tongue roaming along your bottom lip. You gladly allow him entrance, and you jump slightly as your ass touches the cold wooden floor. Peeking up at him, your breath stops in your throat at the preying look in his eyes.

“We’re gonna play a game called Shinsou Says.” You let out a moan immediately, your hand flying up to cover your lips a second too late. The pure action makes the man chuckle, his hand giving your ass a playful squeeze. “You familiar with it?”

Simon Says— you’ve played it before. Maybe back when you were younger… but you have a feeling that Shinsou’s game is going to be a lot nastier than your past experiences. This could go either very right, or very wrong. “Yeah…,” you trail off, wondering what your boyfriend’s intentions are exactly.

As if he can see the lingering wariness in your eyes, he continues. “I’m gonna tell you what to do, and you’re gonna follow my commands. If you follow my instructions without me saying ‘Shinsou says’, the game is over and you lose.”

“Is there a punishment for losing?” You ask, maybe a bit too quickly because his lavender eyes glint at you with hunger.

“Not really… you just don’t get the winning prize.”

Interest piqued, you look at him expectantly. “Well tell me what it is already!”

“The prize is my cock, baby.” Your eyes widen and fall to his lap, regarding the sizable tent in his pants. “You’ll be rewarded kindly if you show me that you can be a good girl for me. I can’t just forget that you were touching yourself without me, like a little slut. Prove to me you’re my good girl.”

Fuck, he’s a good talker. His words sound so tempting, and if you play the game, he’ll be murmuring those intoxicating desires into your ear all night. You straighten your spine with confidence. You can prove that you’re a good girl.

“If you wanna stop at any point, you’ll be able to. Just say the word and we’ll stop, okay kitten?”

Even though your lip is between your teeth, you nod once again, the idea of the game appealing to you. If you just follow his instructions, it doesn’t really count as touching yourself… right? It can’t be as embarrassing...

His pleased smile is enough to make your lungs rattle with anticipation. His hands land on your waist, his fingers massaging the flesh there tenderly. “Shinsou says, turn around.”

You were planning on following his command, yet your body finds it already acting on its own accord. A tight feeling of excitement and a shred of fear bubbles in your chest, realizing that he’s using his quirk on you. He’s never used it on you before, and in all honesty, you had been wondering when he would finally man up and test it on you. When you finally turn, you aren’t expecting to find yourself in front of your floor length mirror, and your cheeks immediately flush with a telling red.

His quirk is interesting— it doesn’t feel intrusive, more like your movements are the true desire of your limbs and he is just oiling you up into performing them. This already exceeds your expectations.

You hesitantly observe yourself in the mirror, looking at the slick glaze that drips down your inner thighs. Shinsou follows the action, sitting behind you and sliding his hands under your thighs, parting your legs widely and trailing his fingers along your skin. You lean back into his chest, getting comfortable and licking your lips.

“Shinsou says,” he grumbles into your ear, watching your reflection as your pussy clenches at the words, “cup your breasts and gently pinch those nipples, kitten.”

Your exhale is shaky as your fingers collect the heavy flesh, your palms gliding along the sensitive skin. You whine as your fingertips roll the perky buds, your actions not your own but delighting you nonetheless. Your hips roll slowly in the air, shutting your eyes and tossing your head atop his broad shoulder.

“Sensitive today, are we?” His low chuckle draws another whimper from you, and the luscious noise only spurs him further. “Wow, I’ve never seen you so fucking wet before. Look at yourself.”

You keep your head where it is, an almost pained look washing over your features at having to keep the game in mind. Shinsou’s quirk is absent in your hazy mind, not pushing you into performing the incorrect action.

“Hmm, what a clever kitten I have,” he purrs, fingers running along your skin. “Now— Shinsou says— look at how soaked you are for me. And don’t you dare look away.”

Your head turns and your cheeks feel on fire as you take in your reflection, as well as the haughty smirk resting on Shinsou’s lips. Your eyes travel to your sex, and you stop breathing as Shinsou’s lithe fingers inch toward it. They delicately land along your slit, the tips running between your petals teasingly. They brush over your clit for a moment, almost mocking you as they disappear from your core completely.

“Shinsou says, touch yourself like I just did, and keep at it, too.”

Even with his quirk guiding your movements, you find yourself wanting to follow his commands. You arch into his chest, whimpering as your nails give your swollen cunt a different sensation. Your fingers just as gentle and teasing as his had been, your lust skyrockets as your touch ghosts over your clit again. You sigh, watching how your actions cause your cunt to flutter in anticipation.

The action does not go unnoticed by Shinsou, who seems delighted by your telling body. His dick is achingly hard, but the premise of the game has him holding back. He wants to push you into becoming comfortable touching yourself like this. In front of him. He wants you to see how beautiful you are when you spread yourself for him like this, how you have nothing to hide.

“Shinsou says, ease your middle finger inside that drenched cunt for me, baby.” Your finger slips into your hole, pushing all the way to the knuckle and whining when your own digit doesn’t reach as deep as you want. As deep as Shinsou’s fingers can reach.

“Please, Shinsou, fuck,” you moan, your eyes still glued to your pussy. Your finger just sitting there inside yourself, your hips shift in order to find more stimulation.

“Now fuck yourself with it.”

You cry out, your finger still frozen in your pussy. What a tease! It’s not fair, this game is too cruel. Anguish washing over you, you glare at his reflection.

The anger rolling off of you makes him laugh, but he closes his eyes, leaning in to start pressing gentle, open-mouthed kisses on the column of your neck. “Shinsou says, finger yourself, kitten.”

Your finger immediately starts moving, curling in and out of your slick cunt with fervor. The pad of your fingertip pressing intently, your body shivers at the sudden stimulation. “Ahhh~ Shinsou!”

“Shinsou says, add another finger.”

The familiar stretch makes your legs shake, your back pressing into his chest. He continues his assault on your neck, but his hands leave you in favor of stripping off his jacket and his shirt. His wild purple locks shift as he pushes your body into his naked skin, collecting your thighs in his hands once again.

His teeth nip across your collarbone, tongue washing over the reddened skin in a soothing manner. “Wish those were my fingers in your pretty pussy, kitty cat?”

The filthy words he utters make your already prominent blush intensify, your legs straining against his grasp. All you can do is moan, enjoying the stimulation your fingers dutifully provide. You meekly choke out, “More, please— I need it!”

Shinsou considers your dissolute request, watching the way your fingers thrust into your throbbing hole. You’d never been so desperate before, and he wonders again how long you’d been touching yourself before he’d arrived. Gauging how eager your actions are, he attempts more foul play. “You want more? You nasty slut. Go on then, rub your clit for me.”

Your hand jerks to complete the action but immediately you gasp and slap it back down against your thigh. Your breath is shaking, your fingers pressing faster into your cunt. You look at Shinsou with pleading eyes, a mewl croaking out of you.

The bastard raises a purple brow at you, leisurely returning to kissing your neck. “Aha, that was cute, kitten, I’m impressed.”

The pleasure and the build up from his taunting words send bolts of pleasure through your body, and you begin to feel your orgasm building once again. Frantic for more of his touch, your body wriggles with urgency.

He sucks in a tight breath as your ass grinds into his crotch, your body begging for his touch. “Shinsou says, stay fucking still.”

Your body freezes harshly on its own accord, and your eyes nearly pop out of your skull as Shinsou’s hand creeps down your pelvis, his fingers sliding along your own that are halfway in your pussy. He lubes the digits up on your excessive arousal, sliding the pads back up to massage your clit.

“Fuck!” You clench around your fingers at the novel sensation, and your eyes nearly shut as his other hand grabs your wrist, pushing your digits back into yourself.

“Shinsou says, tell me how that feels, darling.” His fingers on your nerve won’t quit, and the other hand shoves your fingers into your twitching cunt at a rapid pace.

Your jaw is slack, words unable to be voiced as your eyes dart between his arrogant smirk and his heavenly hands. But your body is not your own, and the words that come out of your mouth make your embarrassment increase tenfold. “It feels so fucking good Daddy!”

His movements halt and you let out a broken wail, your impending orgasm vanishing without a trace. Your wide eyes meet his in the reflection, both of you in shock at the term that he’d summoned from you.

You are his kitten, that had been established pretty quickly into your relationship. But he’s never heard such a scandalous term dare to come from your lips before.

It has him feral.

It happens so quick, you can’t even gasp as his hand closes around your throat.

“Daddy, huh?” His gaze on yours is like lava, molten desire oozing out of him so forcefully you can almost hear the crackle and sizzle. His other hand roughly shoves down his pants, thumb ripping his briefs southward.

His long length slaps his pelvis and although you cannot see it, your body shivers in excitement, ready to be split in two and filled to the brim. Your fleeting shame now crushed by your overwhelming famine for him. “Please,” you beg, the excitement of it all too much.

“Daddy’s perfect kitty-cat,” he groans, yanking you to sit up so you’re on your knees, thighs shaking. “You want Daddy to fuck this slutty little pussy? Huh, kitten?”

“Yes! Yes, Daddy— Please!” You’re practically groveling with the words that come out, like a delirious prayer on your lips.

The hand on your neck slips back to fist the hair at the base of your skull, and he shoves you forward roughly so your hands fly out to catch yourself. Tugging on the hairs, he forces you to look at your reflection up close, your knees propping your hips up to the perfect height.

Your heart thuds in your rib cage as the head of his cock glides along your glassy entrance. A growl rumbles in his chest as he watches your strands of slick stretch as he takes his cock away, connecting your cunt to his length as if tempting him to just shove it in.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, making your eyes open and lock onto his. Your ass lowers so the tip brushes along your folds again, and you pant desperately as he grins at you. “You’re my sweet little kitten— all mine. Got it?”

You nod again. Words are just so hard to come by tonight.

His hand that isn’t on your hair slaps your ass abruptly, eliciting a loud moan from you. His fingers dig into the reddened flesh, his tongue running eagerly underneath his teeth. “Now, Daddy says…”

Your lip trembles, pussy fluttering as you look at him once more.

“Make yourself cum on my cock.”

He doesn’t need to activate his quirk this time. Your hips smash downwards, your cry and his moan filling the room as you take every inch of him, his hard cock spreading your tight walls with ease. You don’t allow yourself to accustom to his intrusive size, immediately bucking your ass upwards before slamming back down.

Shinsou’s eyes roll back, his hand laying still on your ass as you bounce on his dick, stealing his breath away. Fuck, the feeling of your steaming cunt squeezing him so well— it makes him want to dominate you.

His thick cock hits just the right spot deep inside of you, and your wetness drips onto the floor beneath you in excess. You can’t help the unabashed moans and cries floating from your lips, your twice-denied orgasm already coming back and making its presence known.

The purple-haired man notices your imminent climax too. The sounds that you’re releasing, and the way your cunt grasps his length so desperately— it's not like you’re hiding it very well. His hand claps across your ass again, and a snarl leaves him at how you clench on his cock in response.

His hand leaves your head, making your face drop and your chin drag against the floor. His hands dig into your hips, spreading your cheeks and forcing your hips onto his with purpose. He thrusts upwards as your ass crashes down, soliciting the most delicious shriek from you. Shinsou groans, forcing a pace that repeats the action so swiftly your body hums and bright stars dance along the corners of your vision.

“Did you fucking hear me, kitten?”

Your eyes open blearily, tears dotting your lashes at the sheer pleasure he’s causing. His expression is malicious, slitted eyes glaring at your mirror image, as if tempting you to follow his command.

“Daddy says, he wants you to cum.”

The pressure in your stomach heightens suddenly, so much that your jaw drops and your legs shake, your body tightening up. And then you’re orgasming, cunt squeezing the life out of his cock and thrashing on his hips in ecstasy.

His hands only tighten on your hips, and his pace does not dwindle as he plows into you with ease. The continued stimulation on your g-spot makes a trail of drool run down the corner of your mouth, your eyes rolled back all the way. The persistent tempo of his thrusts draws out a string of unintelligible pleas from you, and he finally stops to give you a second to catch your breath.

Your body melts into a puddle on the floor, the forced orgasm having taken a startling amount of energy from you. Shinsou gives a tentative thrust, a soft whine dislodging from you. Wrapping his arms under and around your thighs with his hands landing beneath your ass, he pulls you off the ground, sinking to his knees in front of the mirror. He spreads your legs mercilessly, lowering your body and sinking his cock into your aching cunt.

“Mmmmph, Shinsou,” you whimper as you’re struggling for words, your body feeling a confusing mix of heaviness and lightness. Your mind is still foggy, trying to readjust after your orgasm has devastated you so harshly. You body hadn’t had enough time to prepare itself, Shinsou had just ripped the orgasm out of you before it was ready.

Your head lolls back onto his shoulder, another mewl releasing as he pushes his cock inside again.

“Shh, shh shh kitten, don’t you worry. Daddy’s gonna take good care of you, just like he always does,” Shinsou breathes into your ear, sending the butterflies in your stomach fluttering with renewed energy.

The moans just keep coming out of you as his strong arms guide you to sit on his dick, sheathing himself inside you all the way and then rutting his hips up into you to rub that spot that makes you quiver. Your head not as cloudy as before, your hand wanders to your breast and you tug your nipple with your fingers.

“Mhmm, doesn’t that feel good?” He inquires, dropping your body a bit quicker on his length. Your lips open in the shape of an ‘o’, your other hand trails down your thigh. “You wanna touch yourself, darling? Not so shy anymore, are you?”

You shake your head, licking your lips at the mirror before you. It displays the sinful image of Shinsou impaling you with his mighty cock, folding your body like a flimsy lawn chair.

“Daddy says, lick your fingers and rub them on your clit,” he orders, thrusting into you faster.

Your hand on your thigh instantly flies to your lips, parting them and shoving your fingers into your mouth. You moan as your tongue lathers the digits in your spit, making Shinsou bite down on the tip of your ear and growl. Your body lurches as your fingers meet your clit, your entire core tightening at the added pleasure. “Fuck! Shinsou, ahhh— I— ughhh,” you can't stop the groan that slips out, your overstimulated g-spot sending euphoria rushing through you with every thrust.

“Ready to cum again, kitten?” He pesters, the tension amplifying in his stomach. Just the game had him all riled up, and now, after your intense orgasm and displaying yourself like this… well, he’s getting pretty close himself.

“Yes, please just… give it to me, Daddy,” you whine, your body bracing for the impact of another orgasm. With no control over your fingers on your clit, all you can do is accept the sparks zipping through your limbs.

Shinsou drops your hips to meet his as they buck upwards at a rapid pace, the breath in your lungs being stolen as you fall off the edge, your second orgasm slicing through you. The pressure alleviating from your core, your lips part and a long whine tumbles out. Clear fluid spurts onto the mirror and the floor as you tremble against his slick chest, cunt tightening and spasming violently.

Shinsou lets out a suspended groan, the image of your release splashing out of you combined with the feeling of you gripping his cock so forcefully coaxing out his orgasm. He fills your womb with warmth, his grip on your thighs weakening.

The room is filled with ragged breaths as you both remain in a state of bliss, Shinsou’s length massaging your raw pussy as he slowly cradles your body against his. Your eyes are closed, your cunt throbbing and tingling with the aftershocks of your climax.

Shinsou presses feathery kisses onto the mauled skin on your neck. There’s a ridiculously dark and large hickey forming there, but you can’t bring yourself to give a damn as he licks the bruising skin with care.

He intently watches a thick stream of white trickle out of your pink cunt and down his balls. Your body droops against his, exhaustion ebbing into your form. Shinsou pulls out of you and you whine as his heated cock leaves your trove, the stretch immediately being missed.

“How do you feel, kitten? You alright?” He asks, adjusting you in his arms as he stands, holding your body with discretion. He carries you over to the bed, laying you on the now-cold sheets.

Your overstimulated core throbs in protest as you shift, pushing the hair off your sweaty forehead. “I’m good, I'm just so tired… and I can’t believe I just—” you cut off, glancing at him with a slightly embarrassed look in your eyes.

Shinsou smirks, but the pride beams through his faux-suave expression. “Squirted? You sure did, kitten. And it was hot as hell.” He crawls onto the mattress next to you, his long arms encircling your waist.

Snuggled into his warm chest, you sigh in content, your body buzzing numbly from the lingering head-rush of your peak. He always knows what to say.

“You did so well, baby, I’m so proud of you.” His words are soft and sweet now, warm and considerate. “You proved it to me, darling, you’re such a good girl.”

Your lips mould into a sated smile, which you press into the smooth skin of his muscular chest. Before you can slip away into a restful slumber, Shinsou’s fingers collect your chin, gently tugging it up so your eyes meet his.

“Good girls don’t touch themselves though, kitten. This time you were lucky I came over here needing you just as bad as you needed me.” He pulls you into a deep kiss, making your arms wrap around his neck and your fingers glide into his soft, amethyst tresses. He hums deeply, pulling back and stealing your gaze with a lazy yet ominous glower.

“But if I ever find you touching yourself again,” he pauses, lavender eyes twinkling with a refreshed carnality that makes you shiver, “Daddy’s gonna figure out just how many orgasms it takes to make you soak these sheets all the way through.”

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

thank you so much for reading!! I hope it was alright, as I said, I’m not well versed in the Shinsou realm heheh

make sure to let me know if you enjoyed ♥︎

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

#honestly i have no clue how this came to be #one second i was looking at a picture #and then the next thing i knew i had 5k of smut typed HAHA #yikes #shinso smut #shinso fic #shinso hitoshi smut #shinso hitoshi fic #shinso x reader #shinsou x reader #shinsou smut #shinsou fic #bnha smut #mha smut #bnha fic #mha fic #my fics

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the-iceni-bitch · 3 years

Text

A Warm Fire

Pairing: Valkyrie/Brunnhilde/Fem-Reader

Word Count: 3876

Summary: Val helps you warm up after you get caught in a storm.

Warnings: Fluff, Spoilers for Avengers: Infinity War and Endgame (erring on the safe side with this one), Explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral sex- f receiving, scissoring, fingering) SMUT, 18+

A/N: I’ve decided for my b-day week I want to bless all you sweet bitches with a brand new smutty fic each day. My holes are worn out from all the rough himbo sex I’ve been throwing at you, so today I wanted to soften things up with something for my WLW ladies. I sub for no man, but Val could spit in my mouth and turn me into a housewife!

“Well, fuck.” You sighed.

You had hoped you’d be able to outrun the storm you saw rolling in off the coast on your weekly trip to New Asgard but hadn’t even been driving for an hour when lightning started streaking across the sky and the clouds let loose a deluge that had your ancient pickup’s wipers maxed out. You couldn’t even see 20 feet in front of you and slammed on the brakes suddenly when you came upon a massive tree blocking the road. The engine stalled out and you had now been trying to turn it over for 10 minutes with no luck.

You had thankfully been able to contact Aud and Sigurd and have them bring your animals in and batten down the barn, but there was no way you were making it back tonight. You resigned yourself to sleeping in your front seat when a pile of rocks reared out of no where and tapped on your window, causing you to let out a shriek.

“Everything ok in there?”

“Jesus Christ, Korg, what are you doing out here?”

The massive Kronan straightened back up and you thought you saw his brow furrow before his face split open in a wide grin.

“Y/N, excellent! Some of us got concerned once the storm rolled in and Val sent out a group to make sure you made it off of the Fjord ok.”

“Ok, well clearly this piece of shit is not cut out for Skagerrak storms.” You told him as you stepped out into the deluge, pulling your parka around you tightly as the wind tried to whip your hood off. “I don’t suppose you drove here in any sort of vehicle?”

“As a matter of fact, Miek drove the Jeep.”

“I’m sorry, Miek drove?” The thought of the Sakaarian larval creature driving a vehicle filled you with equal parts horror and mirth. “Do you mind if I drive us back?”

“Probably for the best. I told him that knife hands are not conducive for steering but you know he doesn’t listen to me.”

You let out a laugh as Korg lumbered into the large trailer hooked to the back of the Jeep, causing it to sink into the mud a bit. Miek scooted into the passenger seat as you turned the vehicle around and started to head back to Tønsberg.

Your cautious driving extended the trip by a good 45 minutes. The thunder had stopped but it was still pouring as you parked the jeep in one of the converted stables. Korg and Miek gave you a wave as they headed back to Thor’s, Korg carrying 3 of the pallets of Aquavit you had brought with you earlier.

You headed towards the town square and saw Brunnhilde leaning against the posts in front of her small brick house, watching the storm that was still raging out at sea before she saw you and broke out in a grin.

“Y/N, I told you not to head out in this! That piece of shit truck of yours give out on you?”

“What do you think, Hilde? I just decided to walk all the back to your house for fun in this?” You shook out your hair as the two of you stepped inside, spraying her with a thin mist of rainwater.

“Ah, you bitch! Get out of those wet clothes, I got a fire started and some dry towels and blankets set out for you. Want a hot toddy?”

You winced at the thought as you started peeling yourself out of your soaked jeans. “I’d like to be able to wake up tomorrow hon. Your hot toddys are literally just a hot mug of Aquavit with a slice of lemon.” You cursed yourself silently for introducing the Asgardians to the spicy Scandinavian liquor that you now had to truck in every week. While it was extremely lucrative, they now put it in everything.

Hilde sauntered back into the main room carrying two steaming mugs as you wrapped yourself in a wool blanket and settled in front of the fire, wearing only your bra and panties.

She rolled her eyes at you and handed you a mug, which you took a wary sniff of and were pleasantly surprised to find it was just peppermint tea.

“You’re just a lightweight.” She said as she curled up in her armchair, wrapping one hand around her mug while the other picked up the worn book that was sitting on the end table.

“How do you like it so far?” You asked her, sipping your tea slowly as you waited for it to cool.

“The writing is lovely, but it’s pretty inaccurate.”

The friendship the two of you had built over the past 3 years was something truly lovely. When she and the rest of the refugees had landed, after the snap, they were all hollow shells of grief. Thor shut himself away almost immediately, and Hilde found herself thrust into a position of leadership she had never wanted. All of them wanted nothing more than to be left alone with their sorrows, doing just enough to keep themselves alive.

The first storm off the Skaggerak had almost devastated their new home though, and when she contacted Banner for help, he called you. You still kept in touch after your years together at university, and he knew you had settled somewhere in Norway and could arrive to lend a hand faster than he could.

Your arrival brought some much needed distraction to their sleepy town. You had managed to round up a group of your Norwegian neighbors, along with some fellow expats, and set about making the necessary changes to assure that New Asgard would be a thriving community. While the rest of your group set to restructuring architecture, and teaching the town’s new inhabitants the necessities of a seaside existence on the windy Fjord, you began the slow process of helping the refugees move on from their sorrow.

Your anthropology doctorate was specialized in Norse culture, after all, and you would often bring small reminders of their lost home with you whenever you came to visit. Whether it was a collection of replicated Talharpas, Skalmejens, and Lurs to give to the children to learn music or a large cache of drinking horns to stock their taverns, every time your truck came lumbering down the hills, Brunnhilde watched the faces of her citizens light up with anticipation for some new pleasant surprise. When you arrived with your first load of Aquavit and spent the night drinking with them and singing the drinking songs they knew well, you were all but confirmed as an honorary Asgardian. Your haunting rendition of Lilja actually brought tears to a few eyes.

Brunnhilde made sure to let you know how grateful she was as much as possible. She would always have some small gift for you when you arrived, but all you asked her for was to sit and talk, discussing the history of Asgard and the nine realms as you scribbled copious notes. She loved watching your face screw up in concentration as you bent over one of your notebooks, one stubborn lock of hair falling into your face.

She laughed to herself softly now as she remembered the visit a few weeks ago when she had first introduced you to her winged steed, Aragorn. Your look of awe had been replaced quickly with uncontrollable laughter when she had told you his name. You refused to tell her what was so funny, but she was determined to get it out of you at some point.

You had brought your original copy of Snorri’s Edda the next week, and she had read it through 3 times already.

She ran her hands softly over the spine of the book before tossing back the rest of her toddy and setting the book and her mug back on the end table before sinking to the floor behind you and nuzzling herself into your hair, sighing as she inhaled the scent of fresh rain.

You leaned back into her slowly, giving a soft hum of contentedness. She slipped the blanket off of your shoulders to pool around your waist as she left a trail of soft kisses down your neck, before softly raising a bruise into your collarbone with her mouth.

The moan you gave her made her grin against your skin, and she slipped one hand into the front of your bra, softly drawing her fingers across your nipple.

“Fuck, Hilde!” you pressed your chest further into her hand as her other moved behind you to unhook your bra and slip it off your shoulders, freeing your breasts. She felt your nipples harden against her fingers as she turned your head and slowly teased your mouth open with her tongue.

“Eyes open, pretty girl.” She whispered as her left hand continued to palm at your breast and roll your nipple between her fingers. You stared at her through your lashes as she brought her right hand up and put her index and middle finger in your mouth. You gave them a soft nip before sucking and swirling your tongue around them slowly.

She grinned at you wickedly as she dragged her soaked fingers down your torso at an agonizing pace, leaving a thin trail of your saliva before she tucked them under the edge of your panties and dragged them over your sopping cunt, separating the soft folds there to tease against your entrance.

“Oh, poor baby, look how much this pussy missed me?” She said as you let out a thin keen, screwing your eyes shut and dropping your head against her neck. She slapped your tit suddenly and tweaked your nipple hard, making you gasp. “You better keep those eyes open if you want me to let you come sweetheart. You want me to stretch this pretty pussy around my fingers and make you feel good?”

“Yes, god” you let out breathlessly, forcing your eyes open as she studied your face.

“Ah, ah, ask nicely.”

“Yes please.” You hissed as her fingers continued to tease at your folds, lightly brushing against your clit.

“Good girl”

She slipped one finger inside of you slowly and you immediately clenched around it as she pressed it against that soft spongy spot.

“Ooh, honey. You’re so fucking tight, I’m gonna stretch you out so good.” She whispered against your lips as she kissed you softly.

Her second finger slipped in easily and she started fucking them into you slowly, pressing her palm against your clit as she did so and your arousal seeped all over her hand. Your breath was hitching in your chest as she increased her pace.

You felt yourself flutter around her and it took all of your willpower to not screw your eyes shut and drop against her shoulder. You ground yourself against her hand as she suddenly slowed down, hungry for more friction.

“You want me to add another finger, sweet girl?” She asked slyly, teasing her promise against your entrance.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak so you nodded at her, your chest heaving as she continued palming your breast and you felt a resounding shiver in your core.

“You’re lucky I’m soft on you sweetie, I should be making you beg for this.” She murmured as she shoved all three of her fingers in suddenly, causing you to let out a small cry as she started fucking them into you at a rough speed. “I’m just finishing you off so I can feel this sweet mouth of yours on my cunt. You want to taste me baby?”

“Shit, Hilde!” The thought of her taste on your tongue sent you over the edge as she drove her palm into your clit one last time and you released around her, fluttering as you soaked her hand. Her strong arms held you still as your orgasm wracked you and every muscle trembled. Once you had ridden it out, she drew her hand out of your ruined panties to suck on her fingers.

“Mmm, you taste so good honey. Don’t you think?” She placed her mouth on yours and pressed her tongue against yours and you moaned as you tasted your own release.

“Help me out of my clothes baby, I need to ride that pretty face.”

She climbed around you and settled into your lap, kissing you deeply and making happy little humming sounds. You drew her sweater up over her head and tossed it aside, and were pleasantly surprised to see she wasn’t wearing a bra. You gave her a wicked grin before lifting her up and pressing her chest to your face, latching your mouth to one of her nipples as your hands cupped her ass through her leggings. She gave a light laugh and tossed her head back as her fingers carded themselves through your hair. You brought one of your hands between the two of you, shoving it down the front of her leggings and drawing your fingers through her slick, making her gasp.

“God, baby, you’re so fucking greedy.” She laughed lightly as you peppered her chest with kisses, occasionally creating some light suction with your tongue to raise a light bruise. “Mmm, you know just what to do, but I want to come all over that beautiful face of yours.”

You smiled against her chest as you gently nuzzled yourself between her breasts before falling back abruptly and making her gasp.

“You are being such a trouble maker, today, Y/N. Fine, I’m going grind your pussy so good before I rub that smirk off your face with my cunt.”

She sat up between your legs a drew your soaked panties off before removing her own leggings. She stretched your right leg off to the side and lightly drew her fingers up the inside of your thigh, removing them right before she reached your quivering pussy and making you whine.

“Don’t be a brat baby. Look at this pretty pussy, just weeping for me.” She stared at your swollen cunt with a grin as she hooked a hand under your left knee and positioned herself so she was straddling you, her soft folds just kissing yours as she hovered there. “You want to feel my pussy on yours, baby? Want me to grind that clit so good? You better fucking beg for it.”

“Oh god, pleasepleaseplease…” you let out in a hiss as she pressed herself down and ground herself into you.

“Mmm, I feel that sweet pussy quivering for me. God, you’re like my own fucking vibrator.” She kept twisting her hips into yours, hitting you at that perfect angle each time and making you mewl and whimper unintelligibly as she edged you closer to your release. She unbent your right leg slowly, running her thumb up your calf before nipping at the pad of your big toe, making you arch into her. “No no, sweetheart, isn’t it so much better when you hold still? You know I’ll take care of you.”

She stretched your right leg out so you were wide open and pinned your thighs down with her hands as she picked up the pace. She bit her lip and gazed down at you through hooded eyes and you felt her core twitch against yours. One more drive of her hips and you came apart at the same time, your releases mixing together to coat the insides of your thighs. You let out a scream while she just gasped, still managing to hold you down as your pleasure wracked through you and you wound your hands into the blanket beside you for some kind of anchor.

“Fuck baby, this pussy is so good to me. I wanna run my tongue over this pretty cunt while I ride your face. You better be good for me.”

She twisted herself around to straddle your face. You softly nipped at her left cheek then gave her ass a slap, making her yelp, and she responded by smacking your pussy twice before grinding into your face.

“Oohh, are you going to be a bad girl?” She scolded you as you wrapped your arms around her thighs and teased her folds with your tongue. “Am I going to have to edge you all nigh… Fuck!!” Your tongue found her entrance and you moaned into her cunt, causing vibrations that made her clench against your face. “God, baby, you’re so good at that. Your miss this pussy so bad, look at the mess you’re making.” She separated your folds and softly blew against your clit before shoving three fingers into you with no preparation. “Mmm, you’re fucking ready for me sweetheart, I’m barely even stretching you now. You want me to add another finger?”

She gave your clit another soft slap and you came suddenly, legs and core trembling as you clenched and released around her fingers. You tried to come up for air, but Hilde just ground her hips into your face.

“Na-ah.” She scolded you. “You wanted to get fresh with me and now you better make me come if you want to breathe. You get to work. I’m going to wring every ounce of pleasure out of this pussy until you give me what I want, I don’t care if you pass out.”

She inserted a fourth finger into your canal and started to fuck them all into you, flicking soft kitten licks against your small bundle of nerves before she latched onto it, sucking hard.

Tears started streaming down your face as another orgasm ripped through you. You were starting to feel light-headed from a mixture of pleasure and oxygen deprivation. She drew her tongue slowly up and down your entrance while her fingers kept moving inside you, doing her best to lap up your release before her tongue went back to massaging your clit.

You barely skimmed your teeth against her clit and she let out a soft cry against you, slapping your pussy in response and making you come again. You shook your head to bury yourself deeper into her folds and fought off the urge to pass out before shoving your tongue into her pussy and bringing your fingers up to rub harsh circles into her tiny apex of pleasure.

She collapsed against you at the sudden change in sensation with a gasp before she rose up to really grind into you.

You started fucking your tongue in and out of her, making sure to press it against her g-spot each time and felt her thighs tense around your face.

“God baby, don’t fucking stop. Fuck, just like that, right there. That tongue of yours is so fucking good. You’re so fucking good. Feels so good.” You knew when she started babbling breathlessly like this she was close. She brought one of her hands up to palm her breast as her other gripped the wrist of the hand you had working her clit, making sure you didn’t move away.

Just as the edges of your vision started to close in, you felt her core vibrate and her cunt clenched around your tongue as her release gushed into your mouth. The only sound she made was a rapid breathless pant and she rolled off of you slowly, finally allowing you to suck in oxygen as stars swam behind your vision. You did your best to catch your breath as you felt her stretch languidly beside you before she sat up to stare at you.

“Fuck, baby. I don’t know why I let you take this pussy away from me. I know you just lay there by yourself every night dreaming of my fingers buried in you.” She slowly drew a hand along your slit and you groaned when she brushed against your overstimulated clit. “Just swollen and crying for me. Whose pussy is this baby?” She asked you, curling her fingers against your mound.

You knew if you didn’t tell her what she wanted to hear, she would wring it out of you, and if you had any more orgasms you were going to pass out. “Yours, baby.” You murmured, staring at her through your eyelashes.

“Good girl.” She patted your cunt twice, making you twitch, before she bent down and kissed you softly.

She stood up and collected your mugs and brought them back into the kitchen, wiggling her ass at you when she felt you watching her, making you laugh.

“Can you throw some more logs on the fire, Y/N? I’ll grab us some clean blankets and pillows and we can sleep out here.”

“Yes ma’am.” You called back to her, breaking the current logs apart with the poker before adding three new ones and stoking it. You gathered your discarded clothes and the soiled blanket in a bundle and headed to the bathroom to put them in the hamper and run a damp towel against your sex to clean up, bringing another out with you as you headed back to the fire, where Hilde had piled a ridiculous amount of blankets and pillows in a massive nest for the two of you.

You sank down next to her and she drew your face to hers for a kiss. You smiled against her lips as you gently drew the soft towel you had brought with you over her cunt and along her thighs to clean her off as she gave a contented sigh.

“Stay.” She said softly, nuzzling softly into your neck as you held her against her chest and slowly sank back against the pile of cushions, giving her hair a soft kiss.

“Hilde, the road is out, I’m not going anywhere until tomorrow.”

“No, Y/N. Stay. Move here with me. I need you.” She looked up at you with genuine pleading in her eyes. You had never seen such open emotion on her face before.

You only had to think about it for a minute. The weeks between your trips were always spent planning your next visit. Thinking over what you wanted to talk to Hilde about. Your bed felt empty without her there.

“I need you too baby. I love you.” You whispered to her, tipping her chin up to look into her eyes as you gave her a gentle smile.

Her face split into a grin. “Is that a yes?”

“Of course, Hilde.”

“Oh god, Y/N, I love you too!” She drew your face down to hers and kissed you deeply, clutching you to her needily before releasing you with a grin. “I miss that pussy almost as much as it misses me.”

You laughed at that and laid back with a sigh. Hilde rested her head between your breasts and brought her hands close around your sides, pulling the thick wool blanket around the two of you tightly.

“Just make sure Miek doesn’t try to fight my sheep again.” You whispered to her, running a hand softly up and down her back.

“That was a misunderstanding.” She smiled against you as her breathing slowed and deepened, and she sunk closer to sleep.

The two of you laid there intertwined for the rest of the night, drifting off as the fire crackled and died. You had never felt so content in your life.

#valkyrie x reader #wlw love #wlw #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #tessa thompson #writing

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sabraeal · 3 years

Text

A Home Between Two Breaths

[He Who Fell in the Sea | Read on Ao3]

The snow starts just out of Luidas– big, thick flakes. A dusting, at first; they settle on Miss’s hair like fine lace, melting before she can brush them off. But now the horses wade through the drifts, nickering with displeasure when snow crumples beneath their hooves. His own coat sags, a thick, wet film against his skin, but Miss–

Well, Miss sits snugly beneath a bridled pelt, one hand absently brushing along the edge. His chest tingles with every sweep of her fingers, a shiver trembling down his spine that has nothing to do with the cold. Her heat’s been his constantly companion these past few hours, keeping him warm and wary long past when his own coat abandons him. But the colder he gets, well, the more he’s tempted to stop, to haul up to one of the inns they pass and see if they can’t generate their own heat between them.

His teeth grit down, jaw aching. If only he could bring himself to love a woman whose heart wasn’t already spoken for, given to a man who could keep her warm with far more than just the pelt off his back.

Still, taking shelter isn’t a bad idea, not when there’s no telling how long the storm will last. Lamps burns brightly in the distance, up the hill but not too far. He remembers the place; it’s not one of their usual stops– too close to the checkpoint to bother with, mostly made more for lords with carriages and delicate constitutions to care for. Pricey, and with the weather, the innkeep will be sure to wring them for more than two beds are worth, but, well–

He’s going to go crazy if she doesn’t stop petting him like this. Obi tugs at his reins, bringing himself up alongside Miss. Their knees don’t knock– he’s too careful a rider for that, even if she’s not– but he’s close enough to be heard over the howling winds. “We should stop.”

A contemplative pout settles on her cold-stung lips; she’s doing the complex calculations he’d mulled over moments ago. It’s not quite dusk– on a fairer day, they’d be on the road for another hour or two at least– but with the storm only growing stronger at their backs…

“It’ll get worse before it gets better.” The darkening sky hangs heavy overhead, only adding a more dire edge to his warning, but Miss’s jaw still sets stubbornly, the I can keep going loud in her silence. “We should think of the horses.”

“Oh!” She frowns down at her mare’s mane, snow tangling in the long, frozen ropes its settled into, and nods. “Of course. Is there some place near?”

His cowl is raised, covering his lips, but he smothers his smile, just in case. Miss might press on past wisdom if it were only herself she had to worry about, but bring the horses into it…

“Just there.” He points, voice struggling against the wind. “Up on the rise. Hopefully they’ll have two rooms ready to go.”

Miss coughs, ducking her head to cover it. Her next words are mumbled, lost in the wool of her scarf and the roar of the storm, but the winds twist and turn as they press on and he could swear–

Well, he could swear he hears, “We could do with less.”

“Two rooms,” Miss says, trying to raise her voice over the din. They’re far from the only weary travelers escaping the storm; the common room is packed wall-to-wall with boisterous custom, their coats damp but spirits as warm as the brew in their mugs. “If you please.”

“I do.” The innkeep’s round-faced, cheery, but with enough height to convey that she could, if pressed, handle rowdy customers right to the door. The kind of woman Obi would like, if her smile wasn’t already saying exactly what he didn’t want to hear. “But I’m afraid we’ve only got the one left. Busy night, you know.”

“Two beds?” he asks, already knowing the answer. If Master had been with them, three would have appeared from thin air with rooms to keep them. But with just a court herbalist and a knight, the only title between them a friendship to the wrong crown–

“One.” The innkeep’s kind enough to offer a sorrowful smile. “A nice one, though, if I do say so myself.”

A slender finger traces down his chest, as if there were not three layers of clothes and a safe distance between them, and he yelps out, “A cot?”

“‘Fraid not.” The innkeep brushes some flour off her apron, brusque yet strangely sympathetic at the same time. “All spoken for. You’re hardly the only ones who’ve had to make due with less than you came in wanting.”

Still that finger runs, collar to breast, following the length of his sternum. It should be lulling, comforting, but instead he just– “Maybe there’s space in the barn?”

Miss’s hand stills, eyes too wide, too green as she peers up at him. He can’t bear to look, not when he’s in danger of losing himself in them. The last time they’d been in the room with a bed–

Well, there’s a reminder twitching right against his thigh about that. “I’m not above a good night in the hay.”

The innkeep’s brows lift in amusement. “Full up to the manger.”

His sigh hollows him out, leaving him to slouch over the remains of his chest. “I could–”

“We’ll take it,” Miss says, stepping up in front of him. The dir glitter in her palm as she lays them on the counter. “The room, that is. And the bed.”

Obi lets out a plaintive whine, lost in the noise. “Extra blankets?”

The innkeep smiles at him, wide and wry. “Now that I can do.”

After all his years on the road, Obi considers himself a connoisseur of lodging. A adept of accommodations. A man who knows what a coin might bring him, greasing the right palm. Someone who speaks the lingo, one might say.

So when a proprietor of sleeping arrangements says one bed, he knows there’s a connotation to that. One bed, of course, but enough mattress to be shared between two. The sort of thing where one could divide between the pillows and trust that, without a very adventurous sleeper on the other side, he could expect to wake up undisturbed.

This is not that.

“Well,” Miss murmurs, taking a ponderous step into the room. “There certainly is…one.”

He’s seen bigger in the garrison. It’s only a little wider than a standard cot– meant to fit one and half maids, if only so the help might feel kingly for a night as well–

“Ah, isn’t that just our luck, Miss.” Obi lets out a noise that is somewhere between a laugh and a swan song. “In an inn full of lordly accommodations, we get…the servant’s quarters.”

Another room might have a sofa, a chaise, or, failing that, a hard-backed chair that he could at least make a credible attempt at sleep in. But this– this is a room meant for sleeping, not entertaining. At least, not if he wasn’t planning on doing it horizontal.

Which he isn’t. Not at all. That’s not what’s happening here. Between them. Ever. No matter what happened before. Master may not be here now, but Obi won’t forget him.

Again.

“It’s fine,” Miss blusters, as if he can’t hear her voice squeak up at the top of her range. “We’ll make do.”

She draws herself up, utilizing every scant inch, and officiously scurries over to the edge of the mattress, giving it the sort of calculating stare generals leveled on fields of battle. With a steeling breath, her shoulders lift, and in a smooth motion, toss his pelt wholesale onto the covers.

The wind knocks out of him, for more than one reason. “I was going to use that.”

“You are going to be using it,” she agrees primly, letting her own cloak fall, sopping, in to her arms. “In the bed. Tonight.”

His mouth works as she crosses to the one ladder-backed chair that the room provides, spreading the wet wool across it. “I was going to sleep on the floor.”

The gaze she turns to him may be wide-eyed, but it’s knowing too, braced. This isn’t a misunderstanding, it’s a negotiation. “Why would you do that? It’s freezing, Obi.”

Again, his mouth can only open and close, words picked up and quickly abandoned in his search for something other than, don’t you remember? Or worse, how could you forget?

He couldn’t, not when he’d spent the night staring up at a ceiling he hardly remembered the pattern of, listening to the soft lull of Master’s breath and wondering why, why he has to ruin everything he touches. It would be better if he listened to the songs of his sisters, letting them guide him back to the sea, pelt wrapped around him and life brought back to the simple sensation of the water against his fur–

But he’d miss her. And he can control himself just fine, as long as there’s some space between them. Which there won’t be if they’re in that bed together, his skin covering them as one body.

“I just–” he flounders under her inquisitive confusion; it doesn’t help that she’s taken off her dress as well, left in only in her underthings, every shapely curve bared to him– “it would be best.”

Miss’s fingers still on her stays, head cocked, considering. Her gaze sweeps from the pelt on the bed to her own state of undress, hesitating a moment before she takes in his position against the door.

With a long, thoughtful breath, she exhales a very firm, “No.”

“No?” His mouth works, at a loss, and she takes the opportunity to place a single, bare leg on the mattress, right along his spine. Hell, that is making it a little hard to breathe, let alone think. “That is my skin, you know.”

“And you’re going to be using it,” she informs him, unimpressed, as she drags another tantalizing calf beneath her, warmth radiating along his back. It’s the last thing he needs when she’s got that stubborn pout on her lips. “You can’t sleep on the floor, Obi. Even with seal skin, you’ll freeze.”

He’s lived in water colder and darker than nights like these, dove into deeper currents than the Lilias’s winds could ever drop, but it’s impossible to explain to that to Miss, who has only this one, soft skin. The kind that is begging him to touch it with his own, to press her between his pelt and his body, and–

“I have extra blankets,” he mutters dumbly, thrusting them out in front of him like they might ward off her arguments. It’s a weak volley, a desperate measure to avoid the inevitable rout, and she deflects it with barely more than a dubious glance.

His shoulders slump, wet fur sopping around his neck. By the victorious glint in Miss’s eyes, she doesn’t miss the moment of his defeat.

“Your should take off your coat, at least,” she tells him, so innocent. “It’d be no good for you to come to bed wet.”

Obi can’t, unfortunately, argue with her logic. He lays his shield down, the thick quilts the innkeep pressed on him falling in a slumped pile against the footboard. And with a sweep of his arms, the first of his armor falls as well, arranged flat on hearth’s screen.

It’s a relief to be rid of its damp weight; warm as it is, another creature’s fur sits strangely on him, as if his body wants to take its shape as well. And when it’s almost clinging to him, dripping sweat and ice down his spine– well, it’s a new layer of discomfort.

His boots follow, stockings soon after, though their removal is another battle, the wool sticking to every inch. When his feet finally press bare to stone– ah, the cold seeped through him more than he’d thought. For all his talk, his soles stretch against its ambient warmth and, oh, how they burn. Maybe Miss was right about sleeping on the floor; as a seal, his blubber would protect him, but as a man–

Well, he certainly lacked a certain sleekness over these bones. It was easier to forget now that he was allowed both.

Obi hesitates, thumbs hooked into the waistband of his pants. They were wet too– damp at the knees and clinging to his thighs at parts– but still…

“Are you coming to bed?” Miss inquires, muffled. He glances back, and there she is, smothered in blankets, radiating warmth along his back. “It’s warm in here.”

The smart thing would be to take his blankets and suffer as best he could by the fire. Or take the invitation but keep the clothes, hoping they would dry in the warmth of the blankets. But Obi–

Well, Obi hadn’t ended up on shore by being more clever than bold. He strips down to his skivvies, laying his clothes beside Miss’s on the stone. It left him far from naked– his woolens might leave little to the imagination, but they were still as thick and warm as his pelt– but the way Miss watches him–

Maybe he should risk the floor.

He shakes himself. Too late to change his mind now.

Soft fur tickles his hands as he slips into bed beside her, Miss extending from a pleasant, abstract warmth along his back, to a present, insistent heat along his side. It’s disconcerting, to say the least.

“Beneath?” he manages after a moment. “I thought you enjoyed it as a blanket.”

“We have plenty of those.” Her eyes glitter guilelessly in the dim, fingers stroking the pelt in mindless, soothing circles. “Having it under us will stop any heat from escaping through the mattress. Like a little oven!”

“Oh,” he murmurs, watching her fingers carve runnels through his fur. “Smart.”

“I thought so,” she says with no little pride. “Blow out the lamp?”

He nods, reaching over to turn the wick down, watching the flame gutter behind the glass. Even when it’s out, the fire keeps a low, merry glow, and beneath his shirt–

“Oh!” The cord lies tangled in his chain, tag and stone knotted together in a way that takes a good moment of patience and another of dexterity to sort out. Still, it’s easy work, and with a few quick loops he lifts it over his head, stone pulsing gently in the dark. “Here you go.”

He’s seen his miss in firelight, but the stone’s glow does something to the shape of her face, to the round of her eye. In her hushed awe, it’s as if he’s never seen her before. “This…?”

“Sorry I borrowed it for so long.” Her gaze darts to his, and he can’t help but wonder if she’s thinking the same. “Thanks for lending it to me.”

“Ah!” Her fingers reach, plucking the cord from his grasp, an infinite amount of stones glittering in her eyes. “The stone! Did you–?” She hesitates, mouth rounding around words she doesn’t say. “Did you use it for something?”

He’d hung it on a darker night than this, moon blotted out by thick, reaching branches, but as it swings in her grip, a slow, pendulous spin– well, it’s hard not to think of the shadow that approached. How confidently the assassin had slipped through the trees, fleet and sure-footed as any night creature. And then for him to pull up short, surprise writ large in those dark, fearful eyes–

“It would be a good reference point,” Miss presses, breathless. “For the future.”

He huffs out a laugh, head dropping onto the pillow. Ah, yes, he can see it now. Uses: luring assassins out of hiding. “I don’t think it’ll be much help to any of you scholars, but it worked perfectly when I used it.”

The crystal sets her face into harder angles; her cheeks sit sharp, carved from marble, and her jaw settles into a contemplative pout. It’s not answer enough, he knows, not for her, but she’s never been one to push, not even when she held a pelt in her hand.

“I’d say it was thanks to that thing that I made it to Master’s side in time.” Her eyes turn to him, wide, but it’s the least he can give her, when she’s put both his freedom and her trust into his bloodied hands. “And I was also able to pass on Mitsuhide’s message.”

“Because of this?” She cradles the stone in her hand, tender, but it’s him that she turns to, satisfaction curling her lips. “So it was helpful? I mean– it was worth having?”

“Of course.” If his grin is easy, it’s only because he’s so practiced at giving it. At least, instead of kissing her. “It would have been worth having just because it gave it to me. The rest was gravy, Miss.”

Her sigh is heavy, contented, the tension eking out of her shoulders with each second that passes until she’s settled fully into the pillow’s soft down.

“Obi?” He almost doesn’t catch her soft hum, muffled as it is. But one of her hands has dropped between them, fingers gently stroking in those small, soothing circles, and even part of him is attuned to every molecule of air in this room, if only because there doesn’t seem to be enough. “Come over here?”

He rolls up onto his elbow, so close a deep breath might make them touch if he weren’t careful. But he is. Always. “Hm?”

In a single, smooth swoop, she loops the cord right around his neck. “Eh–?”

Her smile is too much, mischief honing it sharper than any other knife he’s taken between his ribs. He hardly even feels the stab. “I bequeath this to you.”

“Eh?” he tries again, fingers plucking at the leather, since she clearly didn’t hear him the first time.

“I want you to have it.” Her gaze settles where it dangles between them, and he’s not ready for how his chest tightens with the softening of her smile. “If it was helpful to you at Sereg, I’d like you to keep it.”

He stares. But it’s precious, he nearly says, but it’s no use, not when he can’t survive her inevitable answer, the one clear in her eyes already–

So are you, Obi.

“Miss.” His voice doesn’t sound like his own, stilted and too low. “A while back, you asked about this scar.”

The neck of his woolens swoops low enough for a ragged edge to peep through, stark white against the shadow of his skin. He hooks a finger round it still, pulling it lower until he can feel the meat of that gnarled ruin against the tip of his fingers. In the pale light of the stone, he can see the way her eyes fix to it, body tense beside his.

“I never cared about getting injured.” The dark loosens his lips better than any bottle. “Or coming back. There wasn’t–” he licks his lips, only a wry smile left behind– “there wasn’t any point.”

Why worry about this strange skin when no matter how well he performed for them, his masters would never yield his reward. His pelt always laid under lock and key, a carrot and stick both: a well done job held the hope of seeing a glimpse of it, a chance to snatch it from their grasp; and a failed one–

Well, there were so many accidents that could happen to a beautiful pelt like this one. Fire. Scissors. A blade.

Obi might not have cared what happened to this body, but he could never return to his sisters with the proof of this life etched upon his skin,

His fingers clench in his fur. “Didn’t really see it as a drawback.”

The stone’s glow isn’t enough to illuminate the whole of Miss’s face, so he doesn’t so much see her jaw work as feel it, her restraint dragging her teeth down with a soft click. Her urge to speak is palpable, drawing the space between them to a taut thread but–

But Miss has always had that sense, the kind good healers always did, of when a wound needed salve or stitching, and when it just…needed to breathe. Which is what she does, muscles melting into the mattress beneath her, her fingers picking up those slow, soothing circles over his fur. If all this feeling is a festering poison, well– he needs to get it all out himself.

“I lived like that for a long time.” The words leave him on a sigh, back stretching into her touch, wrong skin as it is. “But then when I came back, and I saw your face…”

The memory burns brighter than the stone in his eyes; even now he can picture the way she stood, half turned toward him, fingers flexed in disbelief. The way steam had rose from her rounded mouth, clouding the air between them. How she had run, falling just short of being in his arms–

– and how she’d just narrowly missed the same later, her nails dragging through his pelt, jaw slack–

Ah, that’s really not what he should be thinking about now. Not when she’s pressed so tight against him.

“All I could think,” he rasps, meeting the dark evergreen of her eyes, “was how glad I was that I didn’t get seriously injured. So I could…”

Come back to you. He can’t make the words leave him; it’s too much, too far, but Miss–

She hears them anyway. Her breath catches, hand flexing flat on his pelt, a brand against his spine.

“So,” he breathes, heart pounding in his throat, “I guess I’m– haah.”

His hips jerk hard as his miss rakes runnels slowly down his spine. Every inch of his skin shivers, hair and teeth on edge, and it’s definitely…good. Too good for what he’s trying to say.

“You’re being distracting.” The warning rumbles out of him, and even to his own ears, it sounds more promising than scolding.

Miss hums, too innocent, too interested. “Should I stop?”

She does, as a demonstration.

“No!” He coughs, glad there’s no possible way she can see the heat slapped across his cheeks. “I’m just trying to–” have a serious conversation– “and you’re–” making it hard– “it’s hard enough, talking like this, when we’re on…”

Me. He can’t say that either, not when she’s looking up at him so guilelessly, eyes wide and uncomprehending.

“I think,” he grits out, finally, “that maybe I haven’t properly explained the, ah, connotations of touching…that.”

Her eyelashes flutter in the dark. “You like it, don’t you?”

“Yes.” It hisses out of him, not enough but also entirely too much. “A lot. More than I think you–”

“I almost made you…” Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and oh, how he wishes that were him. “Ah…come?”

He jerks, hands clenching in his fur to keep him still, keep him grounded. More than ‘almost,’ he nearly says, but even he isn’t so foolish. “You did.”

“Obi.” She squirms dangerously close, near enough that his cock, already hard, twitches like a mutt on a leash. “I am laying on it.”

Obi blinks, confused, but it comes to him– either keep your hand on the pelt, or lay on it.

Now his face burns. He’d said that, control hanging by a thread. Broken so effortlessly by her fingers in his hair.

“I…” His mind is blank, every thought static, but he manages, “I just wanted…”

She really, really doesn’t need to look so invested in what he wants. Not when he’s already flirting so closely with the shore.

He clears his throat. “I just wanted to say, I’ve come back.” To you is too dangerous to say. “I’m…home.”

Her chest rises in a long, hopeful breath, gaze fixed to him.

“Obi,” she breathes, laying her hand on his cheek. “Welcome home.”

He watches as her eyes flutter, heavy-lidded to half-mast, as her lips just barely part, chin angling upward, and– and on any other woman he’d know what that means. On any other woman he’d close this space between them, show her just what this man’s body could do, if he asked it, but with her–

It’s impossible. How can he fill the place Master already occupies?

He should move; he should roll back onto his side and leave her to do the same; he should know better than to have let them get this close again. “Miss–”

Her fingers sliding from the angle of his cheek into the bristle of his hair, and static sparks over the surface of his skin, chasing through his veins, curling his toes, filling him up until there’s nothing left but to ground himself at the source. He’s never been able to resist her, anyway.

He reaches for her, palm gently cupping the back of her head, but she reaches for him too, pulling him to her, and when their lips meet it’s not gentle. It’s no princely kiss, oh no, but hungry mouths needing to devour, tearing a groan from him that belongs to neither of his bodies but a different animal entirely.

She’s not close enough, not even when she rises up on her own side, pushing their bodies flush together, only cloth keeping them from the delicious friction he craves. He wants her, the proof of it obvious and hard against her hip now, but she doesn’t shy, only bucks into it, making sparks trail up his spine, behind his eyelids–

“Miss,” he tries again, but there’s nothing more to say, not when she squirms up him, pressing her lips even more fully against his. Nothing more to think when she scrapes her nails so deliciously over his scalp, moaning into his mouth.

His palm grips her hip, hard enough for him to swallow a gasp as he rolls her under him, aligning them the way they both want– at least, Miss doesn’t seem to be complaining, not when her legs wrap around his his, dragging him to her. She doesn’t complain when his tongue tests the gap between her lips, when he slips it inside her mouth entirely, and–

It’s not close enough, not when it’s never felt so right, when her body molds to fit his to perfectly. When even now he can feel her both above and below, his own skin calling to him in a way that it never has before, like he might wrap him and her in it both–

“Miss,” he moans, twisting his head away. It’s the only thing that keeps her from following him. “We should–we should stop.”

She blinks up at him, and even in the glow of the stone between them, her eyes are dark. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No! No.” He can’t imagine how she could think that, with his cock twitching against the curve of her hip. “I…you’re perfect.”

He can feel her breath catch beneath his ribs, as if it were his own, and oh, they are too close to be having this conversation. Still, he can’t bear to pull himself away, not when she bites her lip so anxiously and asks, “If you tell me what to do, I could–”

“No, Miss, it’s not–” he coughs, glad she can’t see his face– “I’m very, very interested in continuing…this.”

Her head tilts, curious, as are the fingers creeping beneath the hem of his shirt. “Then why do we have to stop?”

That’s becoming a more pressing question with every stroke of her fingers. “I’m just…” He licks his lips, mouth dry as they drift closer to his spine. His actual spine, not just…by proxy. “Maybe this isn’t something we should jump into this with both feet.”

“Ah.” Her smile is soft in the stone’s light, playful. “Do selkies get cold feet?”

A laugh huffs out of him. “We get nothing but.”

Her palm presses like a brand against his spine, drawing a low groan from his lips. “But you’ve always been so warm, Obi.”

“You are making a good case, Miss,” he admits, his hips rolling without his permission. It takes a concerted effort not to try to get Miss to repeat the noise she makes. “But I– I don’t know how this works.”

She stares, incredulous.

“I mean, obviously I know how to light fires. And tend to them,” he rumbles, pressing a kiss to her neck. “But I mean, the rest. With my…” He lets out a huff, frustrated. “I wasn’t old enough when I was…”

When he was taken from his sisters. It seems like the wrong time to be bringing up family when Miss is rubbing her bare leg against his. “I don’t know what this means, when I feel like this.”

“Obi?” Miss blinks, still beneath him. Her fingers trace the scar across his chest. “What do you feel?”

“A lot.” The admission bothers him more than he would like. “More than with…anyone else.” His breath hisses between his teeth, and finally he manages, “It’s never felt good when someone touches my pelt before.”

“Oh.” Her mouth rounds, and oh, how he wishes that were more of an invitation than it was. “Only…?”

He nods, cheeks burning. “Only you.”

“Ah.” Her palm flexes against his back. “So maybe…slower?”

“Yes,” he sighs, relief making his body sag. “ I just don’t know–” what this means– “what I can give you.”

“Obi…” He fingers trace those smooth, soothing circles, only this time on his skin. “You’re more than enough for me.”

“But I…”

“Don’t borrow trouble, Obi.” Her steady hands guide him beside her, fingers fanning out over his expanding ribs. “We don’t need to worry about tomorrow until the dawn. As long as I have you, we’ll take the days as they come.”

Miss squirms close, head resting on his chest, arm thrown tightly over him. “Goodnight, Obi. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

A breath shudders out from him. “Goodnight, Miss.”

Her breath evens into sleep, so quickly he might laugh, it not for–

For the way his pelt tempts him, for the way the night wind calls. Even now, Miss in his arms, he hears the song of his sisters, smells the salt of the sea.

As long as I have you.

That’s exactly what he’s afraid of.

#obiyukimadness21 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #only one bed #my fic #citrusy #selkie au #LISTEN i had some fun tags #but tumblr decided to spit this out a day ahead of time #but rest assured we are really earning the 'inappropriate use of pelts' tags

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mistabullets · 4 years

Text

Misbehavior (Kinktober Day #6 - Edging)

Characters: Atsushi Nakajima x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: Atsushi makes you pay for teasing him so much.

Content Warning: n/s/f/w, afab reader, fem pronouns, cunnilingus, eating out, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, edging, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, and teasing

Note: This was fun to write. Atsushi is canonically bad at dirty talk. Anyway, enjoy!

You underestimated the weretiger’s intensity.

It was fun to tease him, your boyfriend. It was never anything mean-spirited. You just found amusement and joy when you made a slightly suggestive comment and his cheeks flare in pink. “W-We’re at work, you know?”

“Of course I know~ I’ll behave now,” but before you opened the office door, your hand brushed against his crotch, feeling his half-hard erection from his trouser, “But you better behave too!”

He was stumbling over his words but you quickly swung the door open and greeted your coworkers. Kunikida asked what was wrong and Yosano was quick to note the blush on his face. “Do you have a fever, Atsushi?”

“Oh no… just feeling a bit hot, ehehe…”

He glanced up and saw your subtle smirk.

You were definitely getting it later.

The walk home was silent but it was a comfortable silence. However, when both of you arrived home to your shared apartment, Atsushi slammed you against the closed door and crashed his lips against yours. You smiled against the fervent kiss and eagerly returned it - you liked riling up your boyfriend. He always remembered all your subtle jabs and he would immediately pounce you like a cat. However, you noted something off. This kiss was not out of desperation like usual but more… feral and rough. He pulled away, a string of saliva linking both of your lips before disconnecting. His purple-golden hues gleamed with darkness, a certain edge you only saw when he was angry during battles and missions. You swallowed thickly, feeling small underneath his gaze, whatever playful comments formulating in your head never came out of your mouth.

“Bedroom. Now.”

You forgot that you were not dealing with a skittish kitten but rather a beastly tiger; you followed his demands, quickly hurrying to the bedroom. He tore off your button-up shirt with ease, not minding to ruin the fabric and popped off a few buttons; you shimmered off your pants while his lips attached to the side of your neck, right at your jugular. He knocked you over to the ground, where the futon waited. Atsushi was quick to mark you up - perhaps you wouldn’t be so cocky if you came into the office, with hickies littering the side of your skin and you deliberately put your hair down to cover them up. You hissed when he teethed your sensitive skin, suckling and lapping up the bruised mark to soothe the crying nerves.

He was going fast - he wanted to get to his main priority. The white-haired man continued a trail of marks starting from your neck, to your chest, to your belly, and finally, he met your groin and pelvis, leaving behind a chain of lovebites which only haphazardly connected. You yelped when he yanked down your underwear and threw it to the side. Atsushi didn’t even take the time to admire the slick run down your thighs as he spread your legs, positioning himself between them. Without warning, he spread out the lips of your labia and assaulted the bundle of nerves up top. Your body writhed and you cried out - he was suckling on your clit hard and oh, it was too much already; your body involuntarily tried to pull away from the intensity of his mouth, only for his hands to grip at your hips hard and burying his nails into the skin. Your hands found purchase in his choppy locks, gripping and pulling as he continued to his onslaught; kissing, licking, and sucking in your pearl and sometimes lapping up your messy juices.

The coil in your belly was about to snap and you began trying to desperately buck into his mouth, his nails digging red crescent shapes into your skin as you did soon. A loud moan left your pretty lips as you declared you were already about to cum. Before you could dive off the cliff and drown in the ocean of climax, Atsushi stopped and pulled away, a haughty smirk dancing on his lips as he licked up the remaining juices.

“W-What the hell, Atsushi?” you whined, wanting to kick that stupid smile right off his face.

“You’ve been teasing so much - it’s only fair you get a taste of your own medicine,” he remarked. Before you could protest and tell him off, you shuddered when you felt his slender digits press up against the entrance of your cunt. Not wasting any time, he shoved his index and middle fingers into your sopping core. The advantage Atsushi had over you, having been with you for so long, is that he knew your body intimately well. While it took time, fumbling awkwardly during sex and being clumsy with his hands, he was quick to learn what got you off. The pads of his fingers brushed up against a particularly bumpy spot within your tight walls. He quickly found a rhythm and began pumping his digits in and out of your needy core, making sure to curl his fingers just like you liked it. You tried biting your bottom lip, not wanting to give him the satisfaction but god, he knew just how to touch you; you moaned wantonly, instinctually fucking yourself against his fingers. “Are you close again? Already?” he teased.

“Y-YES! P-Please, A-Atsushi, I’m going to--”

He pressed his thumb against your clit and you thought, finally, he’s going to let me come. And he rubbed and rubbed small circles ferociously against the overstimulated pearl. But as soon as your pussy tightened and clenched around his fingers, he was quick to retract his hand. You particularly screamed at the loss, cursing and whining. “W-What the fuck?! Whyyyyyy?!”

Atsushi couldn’t help but giggle - it was quite adorable, seeing you this frustrated, even if this may bite him in the ass later. “Well, girls who misbehave don’t get what they want,” he stated this so matter-of-factly. If you weren’t frustrated, you would have laughed - but not only has he denied you of an orgasm not once, but twice.

He made quick work to undo his belt and zipper, pulling out his cock and stroking it. Your mouth particularly watered at the sight of his erection, wondering if he’s been dying to touch you since this morning. He settled in between your legs and brought them over his shoulders; he rubbed his length against your pussy, relishing and sighing at how wet and how hot you were. However, Atsushi still had the upper hand. “You owe me an apology for earlier, Y/N.”

You would have snorted. Dirty talk wasn’t Atsushi’s strong suit but you were desperate for release and you didn’t wanna get on his bad side again, “I-I’m sorry! P-Please, Atsushi…!”

“Please what?”

You groaned but you gave in, “M-Make me cum!”

“With what?”

“With your dick, oh my god, pleeeeaseee--AHH!”

He shoved his cock right into your impatient pussy, buried himself to hilt before pulling out and slamming back in. You moaned, crying as he found his rhythm. Atsushi finally gave in to his urges, pounding into you with abandon; he folded you in half, he held your legs and pressed them up against your shoulders so he could fuck you deeper, the head of his cock kissing your womb and brushing deliciously up against your g-spot. You gripped at the blanket underneath you, wailing when his hard pelvic bone hit your clit, sending electricity through your synapses. Your climax was first approaching - it felt like you were going to crash into the earth like a meteor. Atsushi groaned and picked up the pace, feeling your pussy grip his length like a vice.

“A-Atsushi, I-I can’t take it anymore, p-please, let me cum, nngh--!”

One hand released your leg to dip in between the two bodies, finding your clit with ease. He rubbed and pinched the nerves, wanting to make you cum before he released himself. “G-Go on, Y/N, you can come now!”

And come you did, your orgasm tore through your body intensely and you cried out your boyfriend’s name. Your boyfriend whimpered at the sight - your body particularly convulsed and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Atsushi pulled himself out when you reached your high and pumped his own cock, getting off to the sight of you reaching nirvana. He grunted and sighed when his hot seed spurted out from the head of his length and landed on your stomach and chest. He gave it a few more weak strokes before sighing in relief and crashing right next to you, basking in the afterglow in your climaxes.

Your boyfriend smiled, back to his usual sweet self, and he gave a quick peck to your lips, “Let’s clean you up. I’ll go draw a bath for you.”

He steadied his legs as he picked himself up - he found a water bottle and a towel to give to you while waiting on the bath. When he kneeled down and cleaned off the sticky residue of his cum, you murmured his name, “Atsushi…”

“Yes?”

“You’re going to pay for this later.”

He giggled nervously. Figured.

#my writing #scenario #kinktober 2020 #atsushi nakajima #atsushi nakajima x reader #atsushi x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #not sfw #heeding the content warnings #edging cw

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Note

Would you be willing to give us a little peek/drabble about when they brought Chris to the safehouse?

CW: Referenced noncon, collar, referenced restraints/leftover restraint marks, traumatized whumpee, drugged whumpee, referenced whump of a minor

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @stxckfxck, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout, @doveotions

The boy stands in the driveway perfectly silent and still, a heavy woven blanket draped over his head and shoulders his only protection from the winter rain pouring down in sheets that nearly eclipse from view the houses just across the street. The blanket long since soaked through, and rain beads up on the boy’s face and runs down in tiny rivers to drip off his jaw and soak into his thin pajama shirt and pants.

Wide green eyes barely even blink when rainwater drips into them, nearly-invisible coppery eyelashes barely flutter to chase the rainwater back out. He’s a perfect statue in the driveway, with a thin face that comes to a narrowly pointed chin, prominent cheekbones, and sopping wet strawberry blond hair sticking in the color of an old penny to his forehead. Thin wrists are marked with red welts, his knuckles are white where he grips the blanket.

He’s wearing a thin t-shirt and pajama pants - the pants are more like yoga pants, nearly skintight, and the shirt is Vince’s, just something he had in his trunk when Meghan all but shoved the shirtless boy at him and then fled in her car.

Vince could barely tell what color his eyes even were at first, his pupils were so dilated and wide from whatever was in his system, but that seems to be fading, now. His disturbing perfect stillness hasn’t though. He was silent through the car ride here. He is silent now, staring up nearly sightlessly at the only house in the neighborhood with its lights on.

Nat stands on the porch in her housecoat and nightdress, her hair hanging loose around her shoulders, looking both older and younger than she really is in equal measure. “Who’ve you brought me, Vince?” Her voice is pitched low - probably even the old woman next door wouldn’t be woken up by this.

The boy in the driveway looks up towards her without focus, and he’s trembling, full-body shivers that stop as soon as Vince puts a hand to his back. If he didn’t know them as well as he does, he might have thought it was because his touch was comforting.

But Vince knows what he feels is a prey animal going perfectly still to try and appease what he sees as a circle of predators. A baby fawn hoping its spots will hide it in a hollow along a forest floor dappled with sunlight. There’s no camouflage here, and the boy stands out in ways that can’t be hidden.

“He’s still got it on,” The tall, muscular man - Jake, Nat’s assistant who still doesn’t like him ever since that whole mistake he’d made with trying to meet Kauri - says tightly.

Vince swallows and nods. “There’s a padlock on the back. I can’t get it off myself.”

The boy shrinks slightly into himself, as though he could hide the wide stripe of soft, supple black leather wrapped around his neck. It’s as soaked as the rest of him and has to be irritating the thin skin on his neck by now, but he doesn’t make a sound.

“Well, bring him in then,” Nat snaps, pulling her housecoat closer. Her Midwestern accent is thicker with something that sounds like irritation, but Vince knows her well enough to know by now is just another sign of her worry. “Won’t be the first collar I’ve cut off of someone. Let’s get him into a warm bath and settled in Antoni’s room, there’s an extra bed in there. What was his designation?”

“I don’t know, but considering all Meghan would tell me was she found him in a basement and he, and I quote, 'was wearing less clothing than I put on my dog’, I’m going to go out on a limb and say Romantic,” Vince says, voice flat.

There’s a silence, as the three adults take in the teenager who never looks directly at any of them.

“You’re fucking kidding me.” That’s Jake. “What an absolute piece of goddamn shit, you-... that can’t be right.”

“Look at him.”

“I’m going to be fucking sick. You have to be fucking kidding me-”

“Bath first,” Nat says firmly, cutting him off. “Bath first, new clothes, cut the collar off. We’ll figure everything else out after that.” Vince has to push him a little to get him moving, but the boy stumbles forward and grips the blanket a little more tightly around himself. He’s never seen someone move so little - you could hardly tell he’s even breathing.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Nat says softly, with genuine warmth, once the boy is out of the rain. He doesn’t look at her, but at something just beyond her left shoulder. “Can you tell me your name?”

His eyes drift in her direction, alight very briefly on her face and then drift again. “My... name is Baldur,” He says, slowly. It’s the first time Vince has heard his voice. It’s soft and sweet, pitched low the way they’re trained to. If he couldn’t feel how tense the boy was, he might have seemed soothed by her. He’s trained to seem soothed.

“Can you tell me your designation?”

“WRU, Facility 001, Romantic 223499,” The boy answers without hesitation, and it’s clear that his number means more to him than even the name he’s been given since. His words are faster but still emotionless, rote memorization rolling off his tongue with perfect ease. “I am a Romantic companion and I am an active participant in fullfilling-”

“That’s enough,” Jake says roughly, face pale in the yellow light from the porch. The boy flinches and his mouth snaps shut. “I don’t want to hear this. This is fucking sick. Fucking sick, Nat. He’s a fucking kid. There’s no way he’s eighteen.”

Tentatively, the boy tries again. His eyes don’t drift past Jake, but lock on his face and read some kind of authority there that he immediately focuses on, tilting his head, giving a practiced, empty little smile that never reaches his eyes. “I am eighteen. WRU ensures that all Box Boys are of legal and consenting age at time of voluntary acquisition.”

“Jesus fuck,” Jake mutters. “They fed you perfect bullshit, you know that, right?”

The boy swallows, and his eyes carefully lose focus again. For the first time, Vince realizes he’s doing it on purpose. Refusing to look directly at any of them is self-protective.

“Stop it, Jake,” Nat says, gently. “You won’t get through to him like that.”

“Nat-”

“You’re not going to help him by getting him confused already. Just let him settle, first. He has to trust us before he can start to crack it.”

Jake goes silent, his blue eyes are storm clouds, but gradually he nods and glares off to the side.

“I can’t stay,” Vince says, a little regretfully. “I’ve got a nine a.m. meeting with a couple people on a thing I want to produce and it’s going to take most of that time to get back and get myself presentable. Shit, I’m going to be a mess tomorrow.”

“You’re fine, Vince. Thank you for thinking of me.” Nat smiles at him, gives a squeeze to Vince’s shoulder, unbothered by how sopping wet he is, too.

“You’re the safest place for Romantics there is, Nat.”

“I try. I’ll call you tomorrow night, or when we know more. Thanks again.”

“Anytime, Nat. Absolute least I can do.”

Vince turns, then, moving back through the rain to get into his car. The last he sees of the new little rescue, for weeks, is that moment of the boy slipping the blanket slowly off his head as he is led inside the house, shrinking away from Nat and Jake in fear but following their suggestions as though they are orders just the same.

The padlock on the back of his neck catches the light from the porch, just briefly, and Vince closes his eyes against a wash of nausea and an old, old fear he’s spent years trying to shake off.

Then he backs out of the driveway, lights carefully off to avoid drawing attention until he reaches the end of the block.

He doesn’t notice the curtains twitch slightly in another home as the old woman next door lets them fall back into place.

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secondhand-trash · 4 years

Text

Light As A Feather

A/N: right, so this is not planned at all but I just have to because soft morning sex with birb is all that I can think of now.

Pairing: Takami Keigo x f!reader

Description: You had always loved his wings. But it was this one particular morning when he realised just how much you loved his feathers.

Warning: nsfw below cut(feather fucking which I’m pretty sure isn’t the most hygienic unless those feathers are meant for this specifically purpose so please don’t put random objects up your coochie thanks? I guess?)

Word count: 2479

Taglist (aka thank you for supporting my weird fixation): @redbeanteax @monst

The morning sun spilled from the blowing curtains into the room, the best type of morning call was the warmth that slowly crept onto your face. Blinking to accustom to the light, it took a while for you to even get past that slight weight on your lids that was luring you to just let them fall and drift back to sleep again.

You always woke up on your side, with your left arm tugged under the pillow and the other gripping at the corner of the blanket. It was a bad habit formed early on in your childhood, you could not fall asleep in any other position. You felt the most safe that way.

Feeling a slight stiffness along your shoulders, you tried to stretch your limbs only to find your movements being heavily restricted by the arm draping over your waist and the wing that was covering you like your own personal down blanket.

You took back what you just said, you felt the most safe when you fell asleep in Keigo’s arms and with his wings casually slung over your frame.

The same wings that were now gently rubbing against your skin as their owner let out soft snores in his sleep had been quite the struggle at the start of your relationship. It took a very long while for him to figure out just how the two of you could both lay down on the same mattress without him hitting you in the face with feathers with an unconscious turn during his sleep or how those two long flaps could possibly be accommodated without the risk of you rolling onto it and crush the bones of their unalarmed owner at any given moment. The process was one of trial and error to say the least, and Keigo was still somewhat petty about the fact that spooning was out of consideration given that he could not just sacrifice one side of his trusty wings and let it go numb from being laid onto.

Many nights of cramps from weird postures later, you two had settled with the only one that could fit all of your needs. You on the side as you preferred and him sleeping on his chest with his face arched to the side, allowing those glorious wings to sprawl out however they desired too.

They were a trouble to work with, and you still woke up to find small feathers in your mouth occasionally, but you did love his wings. They just gave him such a unique flare, which you refused to tell him upfront after that one time you complimented him on their shade and he refused to fold them up for a week because his ego was way too well boosted.

But all in all, you did love his wings, almost as much as you loved the owner of those wings, who was still in his own sweet slumber, completely unaware of how his lover was dazed out as they studied him in his sleep.

He looked like a child in his sleep, with his golden locks messily all tangled up and his lips slightly parted, a trail of drool at the corner of his mouth. It was rare to see him with his guard down like this, a bliss that only you were allowed to witness. The early sunlight was doing wonders on him, the mellow shine made him look like some finely crafted statue carved out of marble and adorned with gold accents.

You smiled to yourself as you reached out to move the strand of hair that fell onto his face, unable to resist the temptation to disturb the sleeping angel. You never took yourself as the sappy type, but you guessed that love could make a poet out of anyone.

The velvet soft feathers brushed against your arms, ruffling a bit as Keigo stirred awake. You watched as he slowly fluttered his eyes open, yawning before a lazy grin found their way to his face when he woke up to see you not even bothering to hide your stare at him. “Were you watching me sleep?”

You laughed as he rolled onto his side to look at you. “Maybe.”

The shift of his body made the blanket slid down, stopping at his waist and putting his naked chest on full display. It was then that you remembered just how naked you were and pulled the blankets a bit higher to your collar bone.

He definitely noticed your movement. The narrowing of his eyebrows and the growing smirk on his face was nothing less than suggestive, a naked reminder of the sweet loving he drowned you in last night.

“Why the shyness all of a sudden?” He asked, his voice still hoarse from the sleep, “You weren’t shy when you were scratching at my back last night.”

The bold reminder only made what the many erotic scenes flashed before your eyes. The way his brows knitted together as he plowed into you, the feeling of his lips on your neck, the red that took over your vision as you cling onto him, his wings still spread out proudly even at times of intimacy as if he wanted to have them carved into your memory forever. Although it was far from the first time and even further away from being the last time you slept with the man, there was still something about being with him that made your entire body heated up.

“A bit embarrassed because you caught me staring, that’s all.” You mumbled, slowly caressing the tip of his wings in an sudden overwhelmed rush of affection. You wished you could wake up to him every morning, you really could never get enough of him.

A sudden pull at your arm made you yelp and you found yourself under the body of your lover, the blanket that covered your abdomen discarded to the floor. Keigo was grinned at you, his wings at either side of you and acted as the only cover the two of you had gotten.

“I do quite like the way you stare at me,” he said as he leaned down to place wet kisses along your jaw all the way to your neck, “and how you touched my wings earlier, always get me going.”

You laughed, and boy did it make his heart flutter. There were often times when he found himself absolutely dumbfounded by how breathtaking you looked, laying underneath him with a smile on your face, like you knew exactly what effect you have on him and it drove him wild. You said, rather unaware of how your mindless words came out as nothing but sultry to him, “I do quite like the way you touch me as well.”

In an attempt to push himself off of the mattress and moved himself lower against you, the tips of his wings brushed across the side of your stomach and you back arched, goose bumps immediately forming with the ticklish sensation. Your reaction to such an innocent gesture on his part was unexpected, and it amused him so much that another idea started forming in his head.

A whine escaped your lips when you felt the same feeling but this time circling your nipple. Forcing your eyes open against the overwhelming feeling that was fogging over your head, your boyfriend’s lazy smirk only fueled the wetness that was starting to pool up at your core.

He had carefully plucked one of the longer feathers on his back and traced the soft tip along where he knew that you were the most sensitive, testing his own theory a bit and utterly astonished to find that he was right. “You do like being touched,” he whispered, drawing out another mewl from you when he flicked the feather onto the peak that was hard and begging for attention, “so much that you would take even a feather.”

Your breath hitched when the tickling lifted only to go on to tease you on the other side. Your toes curled at how the tingles on your skin remained even when the feather was gone. The feather light teases he was giving you left you unsatisfied, and what lingered on you only made you crave more.

“Keigo, please...” your own voice sounded weak with the shivers that went down your back, each word that came out of your mouth sounded more like a whine than it did actual phrases and it sent a throb of excitement down him. “don’t tease.”

The cry that left your mouth when you felt the finger tracing your sopping folds was purely indecent. As he collected your essence on his digits, he groaned at how wet you were. “You’re practically dripping and I haven’t even touched you for real yet.”

Biting your lips no longer work in keeping all the noises in when you felt his fingers spreading your pussy apart and a familiar flicker against your clit. You hissed at the feeling. The fact that such a small movement could sent your entire body to heat up and even more of your arousal leaking onto his fingers was unbelievable. “Please, I need you so badly...”

“What do you need?” He said, tilting his head and pretending that he was confused as he let the feather drawn on the side of your labia, “You need me to touch you?”

Your hands gripped onto the sheets beneath you when his knuckle brushed past your slit. “Yes.”

“You need me to stuff your greedy hole with my cock?”

Your walls clenched at his filthy words. “Yes-”

He clicked his tongue, and it was shameful how his mocking of your desperation only fueled you further. “How about no?”

Without a warning, he slid the long feather into your opening. You cried out, no, you screeched when the thin vanes rubbed against your walls. It was like there was nothing inside of you with how little girth it provided but the tip of the shaft and each section of the feather barely scratching past you put you in your place right where Keigo wanted you to be.

As he continued his ruthless teasing, you felt like you didn’t have control over yourself. Your slick made each section of the feather stuck together, the spikiness that it provided made its presence even more prominent. You writhed beneath him and your breaths became rigid, your face burnt at how turned on you were by being fucked by your own boyfriend’s feathers, the ones that you were staring into as his frame remained on top of yours.

He wasn’t sure if he was being too mean on you, but he loved the way you were slowly losing your mind underneath him. Your eyes staring up at him even though they were barely focused with the hazy pleasure he was providing, the way they were clouded over with wanton lust pulling at his self-restraint that was preventing him to just scratch all this and plunge into you. He could imagine how blissful it would be to have you wrapped up around his erection, he would not have any trouble sliding it right in with the way you grew wetter and wetter by seconds as his feather trickled your senses.

You could feel the knot twisting in your stomach and you wanted nothing more than for him to just give it to you. “Keigo!"

The way his name spilled out of your lips like some sort of mantra had him weak, he could not keep up with his own game with the dull ache that was growing in between his legs. “What do you want?” he said and you whined when he suddenly stopped the movement of his hand all together. The loss of friction made you want to scream.

“I want you to fuck me-” It did not take another word from you as he pulled the feather out of your cunt, the drag of the spiky vanes along your walls made you moan which turned into a sharp mewl when he shoved his entire length in you with one swift movement.

All that teasing earlier made you extra sensitive, and you clenched around him the moment there was finally something that could provide the stretch you were craving. He groaned at the contraction, you were so warm and so wet and so ready for him. He did not waste another breath before he started thrusting up vigorously. The feeling of the head of his cock rubbing past your walls made your roll your eyes back to the back of your head and your hands went to his back, gripping onto the source of your stimulation just then.

Your hands at his wings sent a pleasurable pain down his back, and the chills that went up his spine only made him drill into you even harder with more force than before. Already worn out from earlier, you knew that you could not last much longer as the coil inside of you only tightened, and tightened, until it snapped and tears prickled at the corner of your eyes.

Your head threw back at the pleasure but he immediately gripped onto your jaw and angled your face so that you were looking directly into his eyes.

“I want to see your face as you cum on my cock,” he gritted in between his teeth, a bead of sweat rolled down from his forehead while the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing off the walls never once eased, “I want to watch you fall apart.”

With one final push, you came crashing down. It did not take long for his high to approach with the way your pussy clenched around him, his brows knitted together and his wings shaking as he filled your insides with his warm seed. Your mind was hazy from the pleasure, but somehow the corner of your lips tugged up at how you could see this sight and had this feeling just merely the night before and still felt the impact just as much.

Pulling you close to him as he collapsed on the mattress next to you, you snuggled up to his side with a grin. Retreating your hands that were still hanging off his back, you nearly screamed when you saw the tiny pieces of feather that was in between your fingers.

“Oh god, I am so sorry.” You said in horror at how you had unintentionally plucked out his most precious feathers in the heat of the moment.

He chuckled and kissed you to hush you up. “It’s alright, it’ll grow back out in no time.” A mischievous glimmer sparked through his eyes as he continued, “You know, since you already plucked them out, it would be a waste if we don’t use it to its maximum potential- ouch, ouch! I’m sorry! Stop plucking, they’ll go bold-”

#hawks x reader #hawks imagine #hawks smut #hawks #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #takami keigo imagine #takami keigo smut #bnha imagine #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #bnha smut

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jessiebanethedragon · 4 years

Text

Scuttle (3/?)

You don't remember passing out in the troopers arms, waking only when he sets you down, in front of the tree that's all too familiar to you. It’s raining even more now and Crosshair feels particularly inadequate as he paces in front of you. What do you tell someone who’s just lost everything?

“Crosshair…” Your voice is quiet as you say his name, he whips around at the sound, terrified someone had followed him into the forest. He waits for your next words, and it takes a moment but a small ‘thank you’ leaves your mouth. He nods and goes back to pacing in front of you.

The crashing sound breaks both of you out of your perspective trances. Something is moving towards you, and quickly. In response, you haul yourself up off of the rainforest floor. Looking to the man in front of you for direction.

“It’s fine.” He tells you, monotone. “Jus’ Wrecker.” You’re not sure what a Wrecker is, but quickly you discover a Wrecker happens to be Crosshair's older and much bigger brother.

“Crosshair!” He booms, when he clears the undergrowth, clapping a rather large hand on his shoulder, and you watch as the trooper takes a step backwards. ‘Not one for touchy-feels’ you think to yourself.

“Ran into some trouble, bucket got chucked in a lake.” He explains. “Couldn't com in.” this ears him a boisterous laugh from Wrecker.

“Accident prone as always.” He chuckles, before turning away to, presumably tell his comrades he's found Crosshair. You on the other hand, had backed up into the tree bark whilst watching this interaction. Crosshair is watching you watch Wrecker, and he wishes he could pick you up again, just to feel your heartbeat go from crazy to calm as you relaxed in his arms. It would be so much easier than talking or trying to talk, to just scoop you up and hide you from the world.

“Tech and Hunter are only a few clicks out.” Wrecker says to Crosshair, subtle nudging him as if to say, ‘stop staring bro, you’ll spook her.’ Before moving over to you, and bringing his hand out, watching as you recoil more into the branches. Wrecker takes the hint, and takes his helmet off before trying to shake your hand again. This time you let him, offering a small ‘hello’ in return.

“You must be Fairywren.” He says, and you confirm the guess with a nod. “Cool name, much cooler than Crosshair.” He smiles at you, and you immediately decide that his talent, even with all the muscle, is undying kindness and radiating happy energy. Crosshair scoffs at his brother.

“I hate to disappoint but it's just a nickname.” You’re still smiling a little, your old self shining through for that brief moment.

“Still” He assures you, “it’s way better than any of ours!” You decide to lose yourself in the moment of happiness. Firing back at him with a:

“Oh I don't know, Crosshair isn’t that bad.” Wrecker laughs again, and you see Crosshair pause as he lifts a toothpick to his mouth, a small smile in the shadow of his tall figure.

“Wrecker” he draws out that voice, so different to any other clone. He gestures to the forest edge he’d been watching as the leaves and twigs break and moves as Tech and Hunter join the three of you. They exchange words, far enough away from you that you don't hear them. A few glances thrown your way. And Crosshair starts to look more and more unimpressed. Breaking from the group with a grumble, and heading over to you, opting to lean against the tree with you.

“Tech’s the small one.” He whispers to you. “Sergeant Hunter has the ridiculous hair.” rolling the toothpick in his mouth, you look up at him.

“Why are you telling me this?” you're not trying so rude, but you're genuinely curious.

“I’m telling you, because you’re going to be putting up with them for the foreseeable future.” He sounds a tad annoyed but you dont push further.

“You named after the tattoo?” You ask without thinking. Tracing it with your eyes, giving them something to do other than tear up in panic.

“Got it after.” He responds, and from that you can gather he’s not very social, but what you need right now is a distracted mind, so you decide to test your luck.

“Why Crosshair though? Like I get it's your name but like why?” You want to curse at how stupid you sound, but, the adrenaline has totally warn off now and your brain feels like goo.

“Sniper.” He says blankly, turning around so you see the huge rifle strapped to his back.

“Oh…” you say, finally connecting the dots. “Well i'm called Fairywren after-”

“The birds, I know.” Crosshair interrupts, before moving away from you as the rest of the group breaks apart from what you’re guessing was a debrief? Taking small steps towards them, taking in how different they all are.

“Sergeant Hunter, at your service.” The one with longer hair says, shaking your hand. You take note of his face tattoo as well and wonder if he got his with Crosshair.

“Wren, thanks for the save.” You introduce yourself, not pausing to think where you’d be without them.

“No problem,” Hunter says, his voice is deeper than Crosshairs but no less gruff. “Shall we get off this kriffing rock?” Turning around to his group, taking in their nods, before scaling the tree.

The Havoc Marauder isn't exactly what you expected, but then again you don't know what you expected it to be like. Maybe a bit more cluttered than it actually is but you like it nevertheless.

“How many species are on this planet?” The clone named Tech asks you, he's the only one that hasn't introduced himself to you, but you're guessing it's only because his brain is working a million parsecs a second.

“I'm not actually sure,” You say, feeling guilty as his face drops. “There's a number of overall species and all but the variations are so unique it's hard to classify them.” You quickly add, watching his eyes light up.

“So why the Fairywren then?” He asks after a lengthy (and largely sided) conversation of evolution in rainforest species. You feel Crosshair's eyes on you, tuning back into the conversation off and on again as he took or lost interest.

“My grandmother once told me that the Fairywrens kept guard on your heart.” You tell him, and you see Crosshair lean forward on his knees to hear better. “She said that every Fairywren watches over someone, they keep them safe. She said my Fairywren was the brightest one there ever was because of how much she loved me.” Tech stays silent taking in the story, and Crosshair seems to be frozen in place. You don't realize that he’s realizing how stunning you are and kicking himself for not seeing it sooner. Of course you're the Fairywren, bright blue and so beautiful it almost seems fake.

“How do you know Krexx.” Hunter asks walking into the brig area where you had been sitting. And you freeze at the name, Crosshair glares at his sergeant for bringing him up, he hates the way your face falls at the mention of his name.

“He took over when the separatists showed up, and he was put in charge of keeping everyone in line.” You snap.

“Hunter, maybe we should-” Crosshair starts but he gets interrupted.

“How many Trandoshans were on your planet?” Hunter interrupts, and if you didn't think Crosshair could glare any harder than he was, you were very mistaken.

“At least a hundred.” You tell him. “Less now.”

“Why less now?” Tech jumps in, and his honest interest makes you smile a little.

“I used to catalog plants when I was a kid, my dad kept journals, because he was a healer. So it was like a hobby of ours.” You explain, “Trandoshans don’t take too well to plant venom apparently.”

“Genius” Tech breathes and you can't help but flush.

“Any chance of a tail?” Hunter asks, and this time Crosshair interrupts.

“No, checked the whole way back to the ship and then some.” His voice sounds taught, like he's about to snap.

“Good, either way, I'll take the first watch, I don't want any missteps here. Get some rest.” He nods to you all, and even though it's nowhere near close to nighttime you don't argue. Wrecker passes by and ruffles your hair saying “g’night little bird.” Tech offers you a mock salute that makes you smile, before heading to where you assume the bunks are.

“Extra bunk is down the hall. Door on the left.” Crosshair tells you standing up, and the air seems to shift, you feel lonely thinking about him leaving. So you follow him, hoping he’ll stay up just a little longer with you. He stops in front of what you guess is his door. And you thank every god out there that it's across from the empty one. You see that there's no blankets in the empty bunk.

“Need anything?” he asks, and he almost cringes by how rude it sounds. ‘Sure’ he thinks to himself. ‘Be rude to the sopping wet, traumatized girl in front of you, good one Cross.” You turn back to him.

“No it's okay, i'll get blankets from Hunter or just snoop around until I find them.” You joke, Rubbing the back of your neck as the man in front of you sighs and rolls the toothpick in his mouth around.

“Stay here.” He says, a little softer, disappearing into his room. In reality he wants nothing more to let you into his room, to drop that cold exterior he’s created. But he already knows he's no good for you. Crosshair slips out his door again with a blanket.

“Wrecker will be passed out already, Hunter doesn't use blankets and Tech has what he calls the ‘mathematical epiphany of correct blanket weight, fluffiness and size’ to ensure a proper sleep. So the only extra one around is this.” He states, holding out a black fluffy blanket that looks so cozy you want to cry. You take it from him silently, subtly bury your face in it so you can tell if it feels the same way his shoulder does. It's softer but smells the same, and you can't wait to burrito yourself in it. Crosshair has turned away, going crazy as he sees you snuggle into something that's not him.

“Crosshair,” you call as his door slides open again. “Thank you.” And before you can embarrass yourself you slide into the extra room.

“You’re welcome.” He whispers even though he knows you won't hear it.

#star wars #star wars x you #star wars x reader #star wars x y/n #star wars x oc #the clone wars #clone troopers #clone wars x reader #clone x reader #bad batch #bad batch x reader #crosshair #crosshair x reader #clone trooper crosshair #sergeant hunter #clone trooper tech #wrecker #clone trooper wrecker #star wars fanfiction

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twi-liight · 4 years

Note

Could you write Muriel and the apprentice cuddling naked and they're touching each other but its innocent like tracing fingers on skin, and lightly kissing each other?

This was so cutee to write, tysm for the request! I apologize for the wait~

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Heavy rain, thunder rumbling, lightning flashes in the cloudy gray sky… The two of them had sprinted from the flowery meadow to his hut. By the time they arrived, the cold had settled deep in their bones.

“Should’ve stayed inside,” he had mumbled in an I-told-you-so tone.

“I recall telling you you were free to go, if you desired,” they said. They smiled when he grunted in response, then turned away with an incomprehensible grumble. Something about not wanting to leave them alone, bound to have done something stupid if he left them out of his sight. They chose to ignore that barely audible comment and instead focused on trying to get warm.

Muriel, on the other hand, was focused on starting a fire. Deft, practiced hands began to tend to the fireplace. Embers sparked and fire came.

Concern edged its way into his expression when he glanced back at them. Still shivering.

“Your lips are blue,” Muriel murmured as he turned back to the fire, “… Take some of the furs and-”

The sound of sopping wet fabric hitting the floor had made Muriel turn. His green eyes widened at the sight of bare skin; something he’s seen before no doubt, but it still catches him off-guard everytime. He had flushed and stammered, then eventually got the message that it was for warmth and not… anything else.

“Come lay beside me?” They offered meekly. “I’m… freezing, and you’re warm.”

“That’s because I’ve been near the fire,” Muriel mumbled, still surprised. “… Come closer, then.”

“You know, it would work best if you take off your clothes, too.” Their words were lilting, tinged with laughter. Muriel mumbled something again as they plopped down beside him. Carefully, they ducked under his arm and siddled into his side. “Skin contact with another person is the best way to reciprocate and receive warmth… And you’re cold too.”

Hesitance. Muriel stared at them, watching the mirth in their eyes swim with amusement, transfixed for a moment. His lips pushed up into a pout, then he looked away. Suddenly, he’s glaring into the fire. “Fine. I suppose body heat is essential for survival.”

“You suppose?” They had laughed, before helping him out of his furs and leather.

And that’s how they ended up ontop of thick blankets before the fireplace, wet clothes hanging just above the crackling fire to dry, peacefully resting against each other. Quiet, soft conversation accompanied the dancing firelight, and soon enough, the chill that embedded itself so deeply in their bones had melted.

For survival, he had said. But it would be foolish to assume that nothing intimate would come from being so close like this with him. Truly foolish. All the stars in the sky would never amount to how deeply they loved him; they’d practically do anything for him. Expressing that honestly and earnestly so he would understand, well… That’s a feat in of itself.

They wonder if he can feel their feelings. When they trace over a scar with a feather-light touch, does he know? His eyes, so green and so pure, flick from watching the fire to their face, expression perplexed.

Gently, his arm that was splayed out mindlessly on the floor rests on the small of their back, pressing the apprentice resting atop of him even closer.

They feel more than hear him when he rumbles, “What?”

They smile. “Nothing… I just like tracing your scars.”

He scoffs lightly, but there’s no venom behind his tone when he says, “They’re just scars.”

“Well yeah, but they’re kind of like a maze... Or seperate paths, that’s more accurate. Here, I’ll show you- this one’s my favorite.”

Their fingers drift from his collarbone to his hip; a jagged scar runs diagnolly from there to his navel… and a fainter, older scar grazes the tip of that one, and if one were to make sense of the bundle of scars on his ribcage, one could trace a scar softened by time to the smooth, untouched skin just above his heart.

Thud thud. Thud thud. Steady and strong, but soothing. “I love this sound,” they murmur as they press their ear against his chest. They have to bite back a smile when they feel heat rising to his face.

“Hm,” he rumbles, then flushes ever harder when they laugh. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing! It’s getting faster, that’s all.”

A grunt of distress leaves him as he quickly averts his eyes, surveying the room now with great interest. Anything to distract him from the giggling apprentice on top of him. “It’s because you’re heavy.”

“My apologies, the delicacies they’ve been feeding me at the palace are irresistble.” They lean forward with a grin, eyes alighting with excitement when Muriel’s tomato-red face jerkily turns to meet theirs. “Much like you.”

There’s no winning here, he knows that much. Muriel could never resist them no matter how hard he tried. Their smile could swiftly bring any man to his knees, and their laughter could make the heavens fall just from the sound of it. The power they have... He narrows his eyes and huffs, a large hand gently patting the back of their head before it pushes down so they could rest their head underneath the crook of his chin.

They start giggling all of a sudden.

“... Stop that,” he grumbles.

“Sorry,” they laugh, before trying their damndest to stop. He could still feel the outline of their smile against his skin. Comfortable silence fills the room, the sound of lightning crashing against the earth distant and dulled.

The apprentice could very well fall asleep. But the silence is gently broken when Muriel softly says, “I like tracing your skin, too. You don’t have as many scars as I do, but...”

They feel his fingers trace shapes over their spine, warm and certain. They smile as they trail up their spine. Muriel draws a little heart onto their shoulder-blade... That turns into a cloud. And... maybe a chicken? They laugh again when they can’t guess the next, and the next, and the one after that. The one after the last one could be a penguin, maybe. And the one after that might have been Julian.

“I don’t understand,” they giggle, and Muriel grunts.

“Stupid.” His voice, soft and low, mutters, “Here.”

The first shape; a horizontal line, followed by a vertical line, then finished off with a horizontal line. I, the letter I. “I,” he murmurs.

The second one is a heart. “Love.”

And the third one is a curve, but they’re no longer paying attention to that. They had lifted their head to watch his expression, soft and fond, filled with adoration in the firelight. He’s so beautiful it hurts. “You.”

I love you. They smile widely. “I love you too.”

“... Okay. That’s enough.” He buries their face in his neck again and they laugh lightly as thunder rumbles outside. Rainfall and the whispering wind lull them both to sleep, and when they wake, sunlight greets them cheerfully in clear skies.

#the arcana imagines #the arcana imagine #the arcana game #muriel #muriel x reader #muriel the arcana

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mikroparadise · 4 years

Text

Sleep Tight (M) | MYG

↠ Banner by the almighty @ddaengyoonmin, bow down to her in reverence of her immense talent!

↠ Synopsis: You hadn’t realized just how vanilla your sex life was, until one late night when your fiance decided to turn up the heat and show you his true desires.

↠ Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

↠ Word Count: 4k+

↠ Genre: smut

↠ Warnings/Tags: established relationship; dub con; explicit language; sleepy sex; dirty talk; praise kink; kitten kink; oral (f receiving); body worship; orgasm denial; multiple orgasms; biting; spanking; light bondage; anal fingering; unprotected sex; creampie, and a big twist at the end!

↠ Masterlist

↠Read It On AO3

↠ A/N: This literally took me forever to write and I’m so sorry lol. Thank you so much to @heyitsayjayy and @kingsuckjin for beta reading for me, you guys are the absolute best and I love you! I’m gonna put another author’s note at the bottom to put some backstory behind everything. I don’t know if that sounds weird but it’s hard to explain without ruining anything so...enjoy I guess lmao.

Your pillow felt soft beneath your head as you laid in your bed waiting for sleep to overtake you.

It was beginning to seem like an exercise in futility now at this ungodly hour of 3 a.m. You’ve been laying awake next to your fiance, Yoongi, for about an hour and a half now, wishing for nothing more than your eyes to stay closed once you’ve told them it’s time for bed. In an attempt to bore yourself to sleep you replayed the events of your evening with Yoongi in your head.

You’d gone out to dinner with a few executives from a record company who wanted to hire Yoongi as a music producer.

Not even the expensive lobster you ordered could make up for the flavorless conversation that passed between everyone at the table. When the time finally came to talk business you could tell Yoongi was uncomfortable with some of the terms of the contract that were being proposed, but ever the predictable man, Yoongi didn’t negotiate with the executives. He kindly accepted all of the terms while you observed him playing with his earlobes and scrunching his nose whenever he thought no one was paying attention. His own insecurities always seemed to get in his way and it pained you to see him so visibly bothered without speaking up.

You let out a deep sigh and turned onto your side, hoping that the change in position would ease your eyes closed. Just as your lids started to get heavy there was a rustling of the blankets behind you, and Yoongi let out a sleepy grumble. It almost sounded like a deep purr from a slumbering lion.

You began to apologize, thinking that you had woken him with your tossing and turning, when Yoongi snaked an arm around your waist, his large hand splayed out against your stomach as he pulled you close to him. Your back was pressed against his bare chest, and Yoongi let out another low purr as he began leaving soft kisses along your shoulders, working his way up to your neck. He continued leaving kitten licks that tickled across your skin, occasionally suckling on the sensitive spot at the base of your neck while you moaned quietly at the sensation of his soft lips against your skin.

Suddenly, Yoongi bit down firmly on the back of your neck, something he had never done before.

If you had read that in a romance novel, or seen it in a sex scene of a movie you would have thought it would hurt. But much to your delight it sent a spark of electricity shooting down your spine. You arched your back into the sensation, your ass rubbing up against Yoongi’s raging erection that was straining against his boxers.

Yoongi took a sharp breath through his teeth, and his hand began to wander underneath your silky nightdress and up your torso to your breasts. He massaged the mound of flesh in his hand before his deft fingers pinched softly on your nipple and began rolling it between his fingertips. You shivered at the feeling, and Yoongi began sucking and licking hard on the part of your neck he had latched himself to, causing tingles to shoot down from your neck all the way to your thighs.

Just as your head began to spin from the feeling of Yoongi’s new, more bold touches, you suddenly felt a rush of wind.

Yoongi whipped the blanket off the bed, grabbed the hem of your dress and began lifting it over your head. You propped yourself up to help him, now excited for the excuse to wear yourself out with sex, and as soon as it was off Yoongi flipped you on your back. He grasped one of your hands and began tying your dress around your wrist. You watched the tendons in his hands flex as his long, agile fingers made quick work of the garment. Yet another thing Yoongi had never done with you before. You wondered what had gotten into him. Whatever it was, though, you liked where this was going and you weren’t going to try and stop him.

When he was done, Yoongi took your other hand and began tying it up with the other end of your dress. He lifted your arms above your head and slid your now bound wrists over a peak in your headboard. The dark wood was cold where it made contact with your skin but you didn’t mind. You scooched up so that you were sitting up against the headboard, now in nothing but your panties.

Yoongi came down to eye level with you, and he looked ethereal in the low moonlight of your bedroom. The black fringe of his hair was hanging down into his half-lidded eyes, his porcelain skin glowing like a divine light in the darkness.

Yoongi’s tongue darted past his pouty lips as he dipped down and began leaving a trail of kisses down your neck to your breasts. He latched his soft lips around one of your nipples and began rolling his tongue around the hardening bud before switching to the other one and back again.

You arched into his touch, letting soft whines past your lips as Yoongi’s hands began wandering the expanse of your skin, which was coming alight with the flames of desire wherever his hands touched you, and your womanhood began to throb in anticipation of not knowing what was coming next. You liked this new, unpredictable aura he had about him. Yoongi was normally the type to always just go through the motions: kiss, oral, sex. Not that it didn’t ever feel good, it always felt great in fact. But it was routine, you always knew what to expect from him. There was some security in that for sure, but the anticipation, the unexpected. It made your heart hammer in your chest. It was exciting. It did make you wonder though: what’s gotten into him?

Yoongi began moving his way farther south, letting his mouth explore every inch of skin on your torso. He began nibbling on your hips, suckling right at the top of your inner thigh.

You were writhing beneath his touch, whispering his name, your pulse racing through your body as you prepared for his tongue to flick out against your clit and give you some relief. But just when you expected it to happen, Yoongi removed himself from you and slid farther down the bed to your feet.

“Yoongi-” you whined as you wiggled your hips, trying to draw his attention back to where you needed him most.

He ignored your plea and began peppering feathery light kisses along the tops of your feet and up your calves, tickling your skin with his soft tongue as he left open-mouthed kisses and nibbles up your thighs.

The anticipation was killing you, your panties now surely soaked with your arousal.

“Spread your pretty legs wide for me, kitten.”

His words made you whimper as your sex spasmed around nothing. You slowly spread your legs, trying to make a show of it for him, and his eyes visibly darkened behind his dark bangs.

Yoongi bent down and buried his nose between your clothed folds and inhaled your scent long and deep, before licking a long stripe over your clit through your panties with the flat of his tongue, sending shockwaves rippling up your body as you sighed in pleasure.

Yoongi caught the fabric of your soaked panties between his teeth and tugged on it, humming in satisfaction, before letting go and sending the fabric snapping back against your clit, earning him a stifled cry of bliss. A sly smirk spread across his face as he moved away from you yet again and you began thrusting your hips up at him.

“Yoongi, please, baby please keep touching me,” you begged.

Yoongi chuckled as he climbed back up the bed and took your earlobe into his mouth, rolling it around on his tongue before letting it drag back out of his mouth through his teeth. “Tell me, little kitten, who does this pussy belong to?” His hand was hovering right above your clit, so damn close…

When you failed to respond Yoongi rolled you to the side and spanked you on the ass. You yelped, all the air escaping your lungs and blood rushing to the area of impact as your heart began pounding so fast you could feel your pulse in your clit.

“I asked you a question.” Yoongi’s voice was dripping with sugary sweet honey.

“I... i-it b- belongs to you,” you said, gasping for air.

Yoongi purred in approval as he smoothed his hand over your ass to sooth the growing red mark he placed there. “Now that’s a good girl. Keep being a good girl and I’ll reward you for it, ok?”

“Mm-hm.” You nodded your head fervently.

Yoongi chuckled as he rolled you back over, spread your legs open and ran his long, slender fingers up your inner thighs toward your god forsaken panties. His hands stilled at the waistline before he let both of his thumbs start rubbing faint circles around your clit, making your legs squeeze shut as you threw your head back. Even the lightest touch and you couldn’t help moaning in pleasure, anticipation, and frustration all at once. All of this teasing had you so riled up that you weren’t sure if you’d survive long enough for him to actually touch you full contact.

Then, finally, Yoongi hooked his fingers beneath your waistband and peeled your last remaining, sopping wet garment down your legs. He pushed your legs back open and dipped down so that he was eye level with your glistening sex. He was so close that the puffs of his breaths were tickling your sensitive clit and you began shaking in anticipation. He was so. Damn. Close.

“You have such a pretty pussy,” Yoongi said as he looked up at you from beneath the onyx fringe of his bangs. He’d never really dirty talked with you this much, but it was something you could definitely get used to. He looked down just in time to see you clench down around nothing, making him chuckle lowly like the evil villain in a fairy tale movie. He looked back up and stared into your eyes before darting his tongue out and dragging it agonizingly slow over your clit.

You huffed out a sigh of relief as fire spread throughout your lower body, struggling to catch your breath as Yoongi’s tongue began to draw lazy circles around your clit, before moving down to lap up your juices and back up again, alternating between fast and slow, relief and torture . This was it. There was a reason that record label wanted him, his fast tongue and and his deft fingers. You could relate.

Slowly Yoongi slipped one finger inside you, and then two, curling them upward and rubbing on that spot deep inside you that had you seeing stars behind your eyelids. You were an absolute mess, your lower body shaking violently as curses and whines flowed past your lips like water from a spout.

You were so close to cumming, your legs stiffening, bracing for impact, when Yoongi removed himself from you. Your eyes snapped open at the loss of contact. He looked up at you, his face dripping with your juices, and smirked as he put his hand to his mouth and wrapped his tongue around his fingers, licking them clean, tasting your juices.

That was when Yoongi flipped you over onto your knees, your upper body suspended from your bound wrists on the headboard, and brought his hand down on your ass again, immediately feathering his fingers over the surface of your skin. You shuddered in pleasure as tingles shot up your spine, when he did it again, and again, and again. You began moaning with each smack, unable to focus on the fact that you were kind of shocked at how good it felt for more than a second or two at a time.

“Your ass looks so pretty all red like this,” Yoongi whispered in your ear as he rubbed soothing circles over your bottom. “You’re being such a good girl, kitten.”

You mewled at his praise. “Yoongi please,”

“Please what, kitten?”

“Please fuck me, I need you inside me, please!”

“As you wish,” he purred, suckling on your earlobe before leaning back and removing his boxers.

You looked over your shoulder to watch him, his dick springing free as he slipped the boxers down his legs, finally liberated from it’s cotton prison.

Yoongi had the most beautiful dick you’d ever seen, you’d known it the second you’d first laid eyes on him that no dick could ever top it. It was straight as an arrow with bulging veins that meandered like rivers just underneath the surface of his milky skin, and he was the perfect length and girth. You were Goldilocks, and he was just right for you, like he was made for you.

You didn’t know if it was the moonlight hitting his porcelain skin or if it was just your fucked out haze, but Yoongi’s dick was shining like a grand prize trophy. It made your mouth water. You wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch it, to run your tongue across every inch of skin, take him into your throat and worship his cock in every way you could.

You discreetly tugged on your wrists to try and free yourself so that you could touch him, but somehow he had actually tied you up well enough that your wrists didn’t want to slip out. You looked back over your shoulder to see him crouched back on his haunches with a hand wrapped around his cock, his long, slender fingers working their way up and down his shaft at a lazy pace. When you looked up at his face, he had a predatory fire in his feline eyes as they ravaged your body.

Yoongi let his fingers roll over his tip, which was practically dripping in precum. “God you’re so fucking beautiful.” he murmured under his breath, almost as if he wasn’t saying it for you but for himself, like he couldn’t contain his admiration. He scootched forward slowly and ran the head of his cock through your folds a few times, putting delicious pressure on your clit with each pass, and just before he pushed past your entrance he licked his thumb, making you pause if only for a moment to wonder why in the hell he was doing that?

It was odd, because you were sure that he had only had his middle and pointer fingers inside you, so why would he be licking his thumb? What was he going to do? What was going on with him tonight?

Before you could analyze any further, you felt the divine stretch of Yoongi’s cock finally entering you. He pushed in slowly, allowing you to adjust to his girth, and you let out a long moan as every inch of him slid into you to the hilt. Yoongi gave you a second to savor the feeling before pulling out almost all the way. As he pushed back in, something else pushed into you that had a deep groan ripping from your throat. Yoongi pressed the tip of his thumb against your other entrance and slowly pushed it deep inside in tandem with his cock reentering your cunt.

It was absolute bliss. You weren’t sure how you had lasted your whole life without trying any type of anal play, but one thing was for sure: you weren’t going to deprive yourself of this sensation.

Yoongi began pumping in and out of both holes gently, as if he didn’t want to hurt you, and you bit down hard on your silk bindings to stifle the throaty cries that you wanted so desperately to let free, but waking the neighbors with your sex screams wasn’t exactly at the top of your bucket list.

Soon Yoongi began snapping his hips hard against yours, keeping his slow pace but punctuating each thrust with a crash of his hips against you, using his thumb inside you as leverage to slam into you harder. Every single ounce of friction was utterly divine, your nerve endings exploding like microscopic supernovas all throughout your body.

Your orgasm was rapidly reapproaching with Yoongi’s every thrust of his hand and his cock, and he began to pick up his pace as electricity began pooling at the bottom of your stomach, poised and ready to pounce and overtake you at any moment. It was becoming harder and harder to hold in your screams of pleasure, and small shrieks began slipping free from your vocal chords despite your best efforts to keep it together. Never in your life had you ever felt like this before, there was so much stimulation at once that you were struggling to keep a grasp on reality.

Suddenly Yoongi replaced his thumb with his pointer finger before adding his middle finger, and then his ring finger, and with a few more snaps of his hips you felt the lightning shoot up your spine and crackle through every muscle in your body as you came harder than you’ve ever came before.

“Oh..FUCK!” The scream of euphoria you’d been holding in ripped from your gut as your walls began spasming around Yoongi’s cock. You were in such a fucked out state that it didn’t occur to you until you came down from your high, however, that Yoongi had stilled all movement; his various appendages still filling you up, but he was still as a statue.

“What….the fuck,” Yoongi muttered under his breath.

You tilted your head over your shoulder to look at him, still breathing heavily from the intensity of your orgasm.

Yoongi was staring down at the scene below him with wild eyes, darting from your ass, marked with red spank marks and filled with his fingers, to your bound hands, to the clock on the night stand that now read 4:01 a.m., and back again. He was visibly disoriented, like he had no idea how he’d gotten there.

“Y/N,” Yoongi said apprehensively as he met your gaze. “What just happened?”

You were stunned silent for a moment, so many questions were running around in your head that you couldn’t even decipher any of them. “Umm...what do you mean what just happened?”

“I mean, one second I’m asleep, and the next I wake up to you cumming all over my dick. So, please describe to me, what just happened?”

"Well...." You hesitated, still slightly confused. "You woke up, or at least I thought you did, and you tied me up and started going down on me....can you umm," you murmured, motioning him with your eyes to remove himself from inside you.

"Yeah, yeah," Yoongi stuttered as he removed himself from you. The friction had you shivering from overstimulation, but nevertheless you crawled up the bed and slid your wrists over the bed posts and sat back down so that you could face him.

"And then what happened?" Yoongi asked.

"Right, then you went down on me, for a pretty long time actually, and then you flipped me over and started fucking me and...uh..." You looked down at your hands for a moment, embarrassed at what you were about to say out loud.

"And what?" Yoongi's voice was raspier than it had been a few moments ago, like he was straining to contain something.

"And you, uh, started fingering me in my ass," you said as you met his gaze again.

Yoongi's eyes were dark with lust, and his chest was slowly heaving harder and harder as the seconds ticked past. What seemed like an eternity had passed before Yoongi spoke up again.

"Did you like it?"

"What?" you asked as you felt all the blood in your body rush to your face.

"I said, did my kitten like it when I stuffed her ass full of my fingers?" Yoongi began crawling up the bed towards you, passion burning in his eyes.

"Wait, why don't you remember any of that? Were you....asleep?"

"I think so, I thought I was just dreaming all of that." Yoongi's deep voice purred, his lips now inches away from your own. "But it seems to me, my little kitten, that all that's happened is now I can’t be too shy to do what I really want to do to you, the cat’s out of the bag." Yoongi's raven hair clung to his forehead with sweat, his pupils completely blown out.

"And what does that entail exactly?" you said though baited breath.

"We can find out more about it later, but first, I'm gonna finish what I started." Yoongi grabbed you by the hips, pulled you underneath his hot, steaming body and leaned down to capture your lips in a hungry kiss.

He lined his cock up with your entrance and slammed his hips into you, setting a punishing pace as he pounded into you.

Every sensation you had just finished coming down from immediately sprung back to life with a fiery vengeance, as Yoongi explored as much of your skin as he could with his mouth, breaking the kiss and moving down your jaw to your collarbone where he began nipping and sucking on the sensitive skin there. He moved down to your breasts and took one of your nipples into his mouth, dragging the flat of his tongue over it before taking it between his teeth and tugging gently.

"Are you gonna cum for me again, kitten?"

"Oh my fucking god, yes!" Your next orgasm was rushing at you like a freight train, and you were bracing for impact.

Yoongi's hand snaked its way in between your bodies to your clit and began rubbing calculated circles over the bundle of nerves. You arched into his touch as you moaned in pleasure, now giving precisely zero fucks about what the neighbors would have to say about all the noise.

Yoongi's hips started to move sloppily as his orgasm threatened to consume him. "Cum with me like a good girl," Yoongi growled, licking a long stripe up to your ear.

If he had meant for you to wait for him to cum then he wasn't about to get what he wanted, because before you could try to hold it the freight train collided with you and you came hard, your walls spasming around Yoongi's cock uncontrollably. With a few more snaps of his hips, Yoongi spilled himself inside you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he whined with ecstasy.

You wanted nothing more than to kiss him and swallow all of the delicious sounds he was making, but you couldn't move. He collapsed on top of you and mumbled something completely incoherent into your shoulder.

"What did you say, honey?" you asked as you tenderly stroked the back of his head.

"I said I should sleepwalk more often," Yoongi chuckled.

"Yeah, right, more like sleep fuck," you retorted with a laugh. "Do I need to go out and by some benadryl for you? Cuz I wouldn't mind this happening again, that was unreal!" you shouted.

Yoongi looked up at you with his gummy smile as his shoulders shook in laughter. "I don't think that'll be necessary. Now I know how dirty you are, no need to be so careful not to scare you away anymore," he smirked. “Especially since you’re going to be my wife in less than a year.”

You pushed him off dramatically and feigned offense, completely ignoring the fact that he had just used the “wife” word and it made your heart flutter with affection for him.. "I beg your pardon, but I am not dirty!" you said mockingly.

Yoongi snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you close, planting a feathery light kiss on your shoulder. "Yeah right, kitten," he giggled.

You rolled your eyes but melted into his embrace as sleep finally started to take over you. Before you fell into your long awaited slumber one last thought occurred to you. "Honey, one last thing," you whispered.

"What is it?" Yoongi asked.

"You're cleaning the cum off the sheets in the morning, this whole thing was your fault."

"What?! That, that doesn't seem-"

"Good night," you cut him off in your best sing-songy voice, trying to hold back your laughter.

"Good night." Yoongi chuckled before pulling you into him tighter, and you fell asleep in his arms, while his cum dripped out of you and onto the sheets.

↠ Masterlist

↠ A/N: Sooooo wow! What did you guys think about that twist! So, this was based on a true story that happened to my friend, and she called me the next morning to tell me all about it, and then she said I could write about it if I wanted (best friend ever amirite? lmao) And before you ask, yes it is really possible to talk etc with your eyes open while you’re sleep walking, cuz I’m a bad sleep walker and my friends have memories of entire conversations that I was legitimately asleep for the entire time lol. Anyway I really hope you enjoyed that, let me know what you thought! Asks, reblogs, even just freaking out in the tags, it makes me feel all fuzzy inside lol so please don’t be shy (although I do have anon on if you are lol)

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drowningbydegrees · 4 years

Text

TITLE: Even in the Dark I Know You (Part 3 of 3) SHIP: Geraskier PROMPT DAY: Six - Monster MEDIUM (Netflix, Books, Games, Hexer): Netflix WARNINGS: No archive warnings apply, but canon typical violence SUMMARY:

The thing is, he’s seen Geralt in a bad way. Even the witcher can’t always avoid injury in his line of work, and so Jaskier has plenty of practice patching him up. But this is new, and it makes something awful and anxious twist in Jaskier’s stomach.

A contract goes wrong leaving Geralt captive and stripped of most of his senses by the time Jaskier gets to him.

WORD COUNT: 2,834 (8,195 total) AUTHOR’S NOTES: Written for @geraltwhumpweek Finally, the comfort part of the hurt/comfort

AO3 Link Tumblr Part 1 | 2

It’s the crash of thunder that finally drags Jaskier from sleep. Maybe just this once, Geralt’s lack of hearing is a gift. At least he can sleep through all the racket.

Except… Except the space on the bed usually taken up by the witcher is empty, and while that isn’t new in the grand scheme of things, Jaskier has still taken to immediately making sure he knows where Geralt is at. His friend would be furious at him probably, but what he doesn’t realize won’t hurt him and it certainly stresses Jaskier out a little less.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asks, stupidly, because of course there’s not going to be an answer. There’s no noise either though. Not of any of the idle tasks Geralt sets himself to to pass the time. And that’s maybe a bit alarming. It’s worrisome enough for Jaskier to sit up at least, eyes widening when he finds himself in an empty room.

“Bollocks,” he mutters, rolling out of bed and yanking his clothes on in a haphazard mess. It’s nothing short of miraculous that Geralt had stayed put as long as he did, but Jaskier was really hoping the spell would run its course before the witcher got tired of waiting. Maybe it did. Maybe Geralt is basking in the relief of being able to engage with the world again, which is not a combination of words Jaskier believes will ever apply to Geralt in any situation, but… Well, he chooses optimism, because the alternatives leave him queasy.

The innkeeper, much to Jaskier’s chagrin, hasn’t seen Geralt and okay, that’s fine. Geralt is up before sunrise half the time anyway, so that doesn’t mean anything. It does mean one thing, Jaskier guesses, that one thing being that Geralt isn’t here. Crinkling his nose and heaving a very put upon sigh that he’s sort of sorry Geralt isn’t around to hear and feel bad about, the bard stalks out into the rain.

There’s one likely conclusion Jaskier comes to when considering where Geralt might go. If he can see again, well he hasn’t seen Roach in at least a week on top of however long he was stuck with that bloody mage, and if there is anything in the whole wide world that Geralt of Rivia truly loves, it’s his horse. So, off Jaskier trudges through the mud to the stables.

Roach whickers at him, and Pegasus, his own mount, pokes her head over the stable door waiting for the apples he always brings. She stares until he’s forced to apologize and show her his empty hands. They’re both safe and warm and that’s good, but there’s no sign that Geralt has been here at all.

Jaskier wanders in search of places Geralt might have gone. The streets of the market are empty except for the occasional overflowing puddle where dirt road has worn away. The smithy is shut up for the day. The grand total of two people who are also out in the rain are no help at all.

Maybe Geralt went to go grouch at the awful mage, which would be very much an improvement over Geralt grouching at him. Also, entirely understandable because the woman is insufferable and Jaskier wants to do a great deal more than grouch at her about it. Either way, it’s the only place Jaskier hasn’t checked, so he sets off in that direction with only minimal grumbling about the weather.

The trek isn’t a long one, but it’s outside of the town proper. The landscape is probably quite beautiful under normal circumstances, but with the rain coming down, and worry crawling up Jaskier’s spine, it’s all horribly bleak. Grass and leaves that might normally be vibrant are dull in the lack of sunlight, leaving the rolling hills feeling like some melancholy memory. The mud squelches uncomfortably under Jaskier’s boots with every step. The poor man who’s caught himself out in this mess looks completely miserable in the hopelessly inadequate shelter of a solitary tree.

Said man lifts his head enough to slough some of the rainwater off of his face, and Jaskier’s heart lurches. It’s not any of the number of progressively more horrifying scenarios Jaskier’s mind cooked up to explain Geralt’s disappearance, but that’s a small comfort in the face of what he’s found instead. Wishing he’d thought to bring a blanket (or anything else, really), Jaskier ignores the rain and the mud, cutting across the meadow to make his way to Geralt.

---

He does not know how much time has passed. Long enough to slide from despair to fury and back again. Anger is the simpler one to cope with, so by the time he feels a hand on his shoulder, he’s bristling against the urge to snarl at his would be salvation. His chest shudders with it, even if he can’t hear himself protest. “I don’t need your help. I’m-”

What is he? Mutant? Monster? He’s the kind of creature villagers assume feels nothing. He’s the sort of thing a mage assumes no one will miss. He’s an entity defined by what he destroys, and in that he’s not so terribly different from the creatures he engineers the demise of. Hardly a person at all sometimes.

And yet, in the face of all his ire, there is still a hand on his shoulder. Fingers curl around it. A hand then, and he sullenly expects he’s going to be bullied into standing up, but it isn’t what happens at all. Against his thigh, he feels someone sink down to their knees. The hand leaves, but only in favor of being a pair of arms that draw him in. The bard, then. Stupid man. He’ll be whining about mud stains on his clothes later, not that Geralt is likely to hear a word of it.

Left to his own devices, Jaskier basks in his creature comforts. Warm spaces and comfortable beds and not the mud and the cold, cold rain. He must be lonely too, Geralt notes, because he hasn’t left Geralt in all this time, and the witcher can’t even hear him to carry on a conversation, and yet Jaskier stays.

What a pair they make. Geralt really shouldn’t need mercy in any shape, being what he is, but he wearily leans into it anyway. He’ll dredge up the energy to pull himself together, but right now he’s just tired. Bit by bit, he caves in the face of unsolicited affection, until he’s cautiously feeling his way up Jaskier’s arms, along his shoulders, cradling the bard’s face. He should let go. He means to. Jaskier leans into his hands and Geralt finds they just won’t budge.

It’s a stupid thing, an emotional thing, a want he’s set aside to gather dust because he knows better. But his mind has been shrieking its loneliness and isolation for what might have been hours, and the face cradled in his palms is sopping wet from the rain, but it’s Jaskier’s and he doesn’t want to be alone anymore. So, when he pulls Jaskier into a clumsy sort of kiss, it’s not so much about desire as it is about contact. He cannot see, cannot hear, cannot smell, but he can feel the hammering of Jaskier’s pulse where one of his fingers settles under the bard’s jaw. He cannot witness the way Jaskier’s arms wind around his shoulders or the way his lips part in surrender, but it’s warm and real, a beacon in this lost and empty place.

Geralt does not imagine the way Jaskier’s fingers clutch at his soaked through shirt. He does not imagine the pressure of Jaskier’s lips fitting against his or the tremor of what is probably a moan when the bard licks boldly into his mouth. For a second, just a second, the awful litany of alone, alone, alone goes silent.

But all at once Jaskier retreats, panting roughly against Geralt’s jaw. There’s a featherlight kiss pressed to Geralt’s cheekbone, a hand smoothing over his rain soaked hair, affection unmistakable even though he can’t see Jaskier’s expression. And he knows Jaskier probably wants to put a pin in this until they can talk about it, but Geralt isn’t sure that’s a conversation they’ll ever even manage, and in the meantime, that awful, lonely ache bubbles to the surface.

“What are we still doing in this town?” he demands, and though he cannot hear himself, he can feel the frustration bleeding into his words like a physical thing.

There’s no answer. Of course there’s no answer. How could there be when neither of them can bridge the gap between them? Geralt heaves out a sigh and tries to jerk his hand away when Jaskier grabs for it.

Only, one of Jaskier’s hands cradle Geralt’s clenched fist, and the other gently coaxes his fingers to relax. It’s just perplexing enough that Geralt lets Jaskier smooth his hand into a flat surface, and trace a shape in the palm of it with one finger.

There are more letters after that. An entire word. Not that it’s any less confusing.

Waiting

---

“For what?” A scowl takes up residence on Geralt’s face, much to Jaskier’s dismay. He’d been so pleased with himself for finally thinking of a way to communicate, thinking it would ease the way for Geralt, but maybe not so much. “If I’m going to adapt to this, it’s not going to be by sitting in that room.”

Oh. Oh no. The mage had said it would wear off, but Geralt couldn’t possibly have heard. Guilt twists miserably in Jaskier’s stomach as he realized the witcher must have thought this was a permanent affliction the entire time and that Jaskier wasn’t even trying to help him fix it. “Oh Geralt. I’m so sorry. I-”

Jaskier stops mid-sentence. The witcher can’t hear him now either. So, he takes Geralt’s hand instead, and traces another word.

Temporary

“The spell?” Geralt’s eyes aren’t even pointed in Jaskier’s direction, but his very genuine surprise makes the bard’s heart ache.

Sentences are slower going, but Jaskier isn’t about let it stand that Geralt thinks he matters so little that his closest friend would just leave him with this. So he tries, watching Geralt mouth the words as he spells them out.

If not, we would be fixing it!!!!!!!!

Maybe that was too many exclamation points. Geralt’s face scrunches up, and it’s either annoyance, confusion, or the fact that the rain keeps dripping from his hair into his eyes. None of those possibilities explain, “It’s not your responsibility.”

Well, that is something they’re going to be unpacking later, at length, when Jaskier doesn’t have to confine himself to sentences his frayed patience can handle spelling out.

I would never abandon you, Geralt. Never. I

“You what?” Geralt prompts when Jaskier stops writing, so quietly Jaskier misses it in the din of the rain. The thing is, there are things he wants to say, but he rather thinks Geralt deserves to hear it. They both do.

Care. I care. About you. Ridiculous man.

“Hmm,” Geralt says, and there in the moment, their back and forth is almost familiar. Jaskier allows himself a relieved sort of smile.

Now can we PLEASE go inside?

---

It’s longer than Geralt is sure he’s got the tolerance for before the spell finally fades. It does fade though, and Geralt doesn’t at all appreciate the mage’s parting gift. As it turns out, not even relief can just be gentle.

There’s no quiet easing of the world back into its rightful place, and while the wave it rides in on would be uncomfortably jarring to human senses, it’s agonizing for Geralt. Geralt wakes to find he’s already caught in the midst of an avalanche, an onslaught that is truly inescapable. The morning light is gray at best, but even with his eyes closed, Geralt feels like he’s staring into the sun. Ducking away only presses his nose more firmly to the blankets that smell of old soap and even older sweat, so overwhelming he can barely breathe. It’s raining again, and where the sound might be soothing any other day, right now it’s like a constant banging right in his ear. Geralt hasn’t even sat up yet, and he’s already feeling something like vertigo, and he hasn’t been sick in ages, but he’ll be damned if he isn’t right on the edge of it now.

He sucks in a shaky breath and hides his face against the pillows, waiting for it to pass. It’s a terrible decision, all told. Absently, he fists his hands in his hair and pulls, straining to focus, but it’s only pain rolling out in one more direction. The scent of all the other people who have slept in this bed is far too much and with his eyes squeezed shut, Geralt scrabbles for the edge of the bed, stomach lurching threateningly.

It doesn’t matter in the end. Nothing comes up but an awful, sour taste that collects at the back of his throat, and that might be worse because the nausea refuses to pass. There’s nothing comfortable about his head hanging over the side of the bed. The room itself isn’t offensive, but even the subtle sweetness of the wine left in the bottom of a carafe across the room is too much, inescapably so.

Geralt doesn’t realize he’s even made a sound, but a warm hand splays between his bare shoulder blades, more familiar now than it’s ever been. Jaskier, bless him, has probably been practically vibrating with the need to have a conversation, but he doesn’t try to. He doesn’t speak, barely even breathes as he presses closer and coaxes Geralt from the side of the bed.

Rosemary. Jaskier shuffles and Geralt catches a hint of it, and it’s the first thing since he’s woken up that hasn’t threatened to upend his stomach. So really, it’s just instinct that makes him roll over and take reluctant refuge in the space under Jaskier’s chin. Conveniently, Jaskier folds his arms around Geralt like the witcher belongs there, and the bard’s shoulder blocks the light far better than anything else so far.

Jaskier must feel when Geralt’s pride catches up with the rest of him, because there’s a hand cradling his head, a thumb sweeping indulgently across his temple. Still, Jaskier doesn’t speak, but Geralt can feel the bard’s lips move against his hairline. Stay.

“I don’t need this,” Geralt mutters, his own voice like screaming right in his ear. He hates the way he shudders in the wake of it. “I’m not-”

“Geralt. You don’t have to be unbreakable.” Jaskier whispers, but it’s a careful thing, quiet it enough that it almost doesn’t hurt. “I’m certainly not.”

“It’s different.” Against Geralt’s forehead, he can feel the steady beat of Jaskier’s heart. “You’re human.”

“And you’re what?” Jaskier asks like the answer doesn’t matter. He scritches at the nape of Geralt’s neck, a welcome relief, no matter how much the witcher doesn’t want it to be. By inches, he melts into it, chasing after the soothing scent of rosemary and Jaskier’s skin as he hides away from the light.

“...not,” Geralt settles on, quietly as he can manage, though the rumble of the word rattles his teeth in his skull. “I can’t be this.”

“I’m going to assume by ‘this’ you mean your self-loathing… self. So no.” Jaskier smiles against Geralt’s forehead, and he wants to be frustrated, angry, something, but the feeling won’t come. Later, he might fume about the vulnerability he was forced to suffer through the last few weeks. Later, he might be inexplicably angry that Jaskier stayed and treated him like he was worth the trouble of sticking around for, even though they both know that’s ludicrous. For now though, he just doesn’t have the energy.

Instead, he thinks about the way Jaskier yielded, when all the world was dark and silent and terrible. Alone, alone, alone. Without thinking, he tips his head up, and maybe it’s to tell Jaskier to please stop talking, or maybe it’s to learn what Jaskier’s mouth feels like molded to his in the light of day. The world has still gone dreadfully sideways, and even as the aching in his head begins to recede a little, Geralt still feels one drink away from puking his guts out. He allows himself a single kiss, a quiet, tender thing before reality overwhelms anything he might happen to want.

“Right. Good. Okay, I guess that clears some things up. Anyway, don’t be that.” Jaskier’s voice is painful in the way every sound is painful, but it’s more the tolerable, pressing on a fading bruise kind of hurt, and Geralt bears it willingly. When Geralt shuffles to press his forehead against the bard’s collarbone, Jaskier doesn’t resist or give chase. He snuggles into the blankets, his body a buffer of sorts. Geralt hears a quiet hitch in Jaskier’s breathing, an anxious hesitation before he pulls the witcher more snugly into his arms. “Just be mine.”

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #geraltwhumpweek #geralt x jaskier #Jaskier #my fic #the witcher

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