cats-soft-sanctuary

[cats-soft-sanctuary]

does anyone wanna hold hands until we feel a little braver

[cats-soft-sanctuary]

Title: Shearing Day

Rating: Explicit (MDNI)

Relationship: Shane/fem!Reader

Word Count: 7205

Summary: Shane has a hard time accepting you don't regret him. You make sure he knows the truth.

Read on AO3 or below

You liked to think of yourself as a pretty resilient person. Shitty family, string of disappointing relationships, opportunity after opportunity that never quite panned out? It’s all good. Chin up, soldier. Keep it positive. Keep it moving. It was like a rubber band, right? If life pulled you out of shape, you’d snap right back into it.

Which is why you were a little annoyed with yourself when Shane started avoiding you after the gridball game.

You weren’t surprised. Could have predicted it. Maybe you did predict it. You knew there’d be ups and downs, bumps along the way. You’d handle them with grace and a cool head because you weren’t trying to fix Shane, you were just there to be with him.

And yet. 

He was ignoring your texts. And there’d been no sign of him at the saloon. You hadn’t bumped into him on the edges of the farm where he was “just taking a walk, can’t a guy take a walk?” Nada. 

He was avoiding you.

Even though it made sense, even though you predicted it, it still hurt. It’d meant something to you, that boundary you’d crossed together. You wanted it to mean something to him too.

If you were being completely honest, his silence also pissed you off. You were working on that. You wanted to give him grace, logic your way out of the insecurities that kept whispering that it was your fault, that he’d seen something in you that night that disgusted him, that his avoidance was about you and not him.

You were resilient, right? You could snap right back. So you tried not to ruminate on it. It was hard.

So was farming, it turned out.

You were trying to focus on sheep that day. Ten big, fluffy sheep sweltering in the summer sun. They had no business with so much wool on them this time of year, but the shearer from a few towns over kept putting you off and at this point you were sure they just weren’t going to come through.

“Do they look hot to you?”

You were asking Emily, who was currently walking amongst the sheep. She looked like a blue haired cartoon princess, handing out apple slices and giving scritches behind the ears. 

“They do look a little cozy for the weather, poor things. No word from the shearer?”

“Nope.” You let your lips pop on the “p.”

“Hmmm,” Emily said, rejoining you at the fence. She leaned back, faced the sun, eyes closed. “You could try asking Shane.”

You tried very hard to ignore the way your heart jumped at his name. “Shane?”

“Yeah, he used to help Marnie all the time. It’s been a while, but I bet he’d do it for you.” She gave you a sly look. “Give you an excuse to go track him down.”

Emily had been rooting for you and Shane ever since you first sat down next to him at the saloon. She’d known him since they were kids, had seen his ups and downs.

“You’re right… he‘s being a bit of a raccoon though.”

Emily nodded. You were referencing something she’d said when you first started chatting with Shane at the saloon. He’d brushed you off, left for the far side of the room. You’d tried not to let your hurt show, but Emily was Emily so of course she spotted it.

“This one time,” she’d said, leaning on the counter and wiping down a glass, “I found a raccoon with a broken leg, He would have died without my help, but he didn’t know that. All he knew was that I was big and scary and hurting him more than he was already hurting. He scratched my arm all up, but I don’t regret it.”

You were trying not to regret it.

“I guess that’s to be expected, though it’s hardly fair to you,” Emily said. “I know he’d help, though. He really is cuddly underneath it all.”

You thought about the way Shane had leaned against you that night, the way he’d interlaced his fingers with yours on the bus. About how he’d pressed his face into your neck as he touched you, as though grounding himself. About how it felt when he’d let his guard down and was just himself. Just Shane.

You sighed and looked out at the sheep. They really did look uncomfortable. “You’re right. Guess I’ll have to go find him.”

Emily clapped her hands in delight. “Perfect! They’re going to make the best fabric! Let me know how everything goes!”

You agreed, watched as your friend couldn’t help herself and went back for another round of cuddles. 

Finding Shane wasn’t going to be the problem. Figuring out what to say to him was.

—————-

You knew you could find Shane on the dock, so when night fell that’s where you went.

The fat gibbous moon lay close to the tree line, casting just enough light that you could see him there. Slumped in his jacket, bare feet dangling over the edge. You joined him, kicking off your sandals and letting your feet skim over the top of the water. You sat close enough that you could touch him if you wanted. Lean your arm against him, feel the warmth of his body, smell the unexpectedly fruity fragrance of his hair. 

You didn’t, though.

You didn’t say anything.

Shane didn’t say anything either.

The crickets around you chirped.

You heard an owl somewhere off in the distance.

“Hey.” You broke first, not able to stand the silence any longer.

Shane grunted in acknowledgment.

You wanted to grunt back. Wanted to ask him why he was avoiding you. Was it something you said? Something you did? Something wrong with your body, your personality, something wrong with you? You wanted to push him into the pond and fish him back out again and kiss him and peer inside his head and make him just talk to you.

Instead, you said: “Emily says you shear sheep?”

That got his attention, at least a little. “Yeah, I have.” His voice had a hollow quality to it. It brought your mind to rainy days and deep, deep holes.

“I’m getting nowhere with my shearer, and my gals look like they’re about to melt. I’d do it myself but I’m pretty sure I’d get a hoof in the eye.”

Shane’s face looked a little softer now, though it was hard to tell for sure in the moonlight. “Yeah, let me handle it. Emily’s day’d be ruined if you got blood on the fleece.”

“Thanks.” And then, because you couldn’t help it, you added “send me a messenger pigeon when you can come over, since your phone doesn’t seem to be working.”

Shane’s mouth twisted. “Yeah. Sorry.” 

You didn’t say anything.

Shane didn’t either.

A wet plop sounded across the pond. A bullfrog had jumped into the water.

“I miss you,” you said at the same time as Shane said “You probably want some space.”

You looked at each other for a moment. 

“Why?” Shane asked.

“Why?” you asked.

Shane slouched further into his jacket. “Figured I’d do you a favor and not make you have to let me down easy. You seem like the type who’d be all nice about it, but that just hurts more.”

You stared at him for a moment. “You’re rejecting yourself for me?”

Shane didn’t say anything, just stared out over the water.

You let out a frustrated breath. Where do you even go with that? “How about we pretend that I get to be in charge of how I respond to things and not you, huh?”

You could see the side of Shane’s mouth quirk up. “My way works better. Keeps the universe in balance.”

“The universe…. Shane, what are you talking about?”

“I have this theory.” Shane kept his eye trained out over the water. “There’s a balance to things, right? Nature and seasons and all that shit? It applies to people too. Everyone has a certain balance of good and bad that they get. If you get too much of one, the universe balances it out. I’ve had too much good lately, so I’m gonna get curbstomped real fucking soon. Might as well take the bull by the horns about it.”

“Shane…” You hardly knew where to start. “That is the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard.”

He smiled humorlessly. “Stick around, kid. I’m just getting started.”

“No need to go any further,” you said, “because your whole theory is bullshit.”

Shane shrugged. “The evidence bears out. Every time I get happy, the universe makes a correction. You’re next. There’s no way someone like you could put up with me for long. It’s like a rubber band. The longer I put things off, the harder it’s going to snap.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. You’ve got that thing about you, like you’re going to try and fix me, and when that doesn’t work you’ll get tired of it and…” He snapped his fingers. 

You gaped at him. You didn’t know if you wanted to comfort him or shake him. Of all the reasons Shane could have been avoiding you, assuming that you were going to reject him had never crossed your mind. Now that he’d said it, it made perfect sense. Of course he’d assume something good wouldn’t last. Of course he’d do everything he could to escape the sword he felt dangling above his head.

You hated it. Hated that he thought you were only there to fix him.

“I’m not… I'm not trying... is it that hard to believe that I just like you?”

“Yeah,” was his simple response.

“Shane…” you were grasping at the words now, trying to find a way to get around the voice in his head that was so much louder, so much more convincing than anything you had to say. “I really like being with you.”

“Don’t,” he said, and you felt a flash of annoyance at his quick rejection. “I know you think that for now, but you really don’t.”

You were spluttering a bit now. “I’m sorry, what? You know how I’m feeling better than I do?”

“I can see the signs,” is all he said.

“For fuck’s sake…” 

“It’s fine,” Shane said, his voice flat. “I’ll come by tomorrow and take care of the sheep. Thanks for the pity fuck. I’ll see you later.”

Excuse me?

You absolutely wanted to shake him now.

“I’m sorry, pity fuck!? Are you fucking kidding me?” It’d been a while since you’d felt angry like that, righteously vindicated, claws out and ready to tear in. “In what universe was that a pity fuck!?”

Shane didn’t answer. Didn’t look at you. Kept his eyes trained on the pond. 

It was infuriating. 

“You think I’ve got some kind of martyr complex?” You were on a roll now. “What, I just go around trying to fuck the sad out of everyone I meet? Who the fuck do you think I am? I wanted to be there with you, you absolute ass.” 

It felt good, in a way, to be so riled up. Like you could send some of that energy to Shane, sitting on the dock all quiet and still. Press your hands into his chest, resuscitate him, a defibrillator made of indignation and frustration.

He just stayed silent, staring out at the water. 

“Why the fuck do you think you get to tell me how I feel?”

He didn’t answer.

“It meant something to me.” You hated how small your voice sounded as you said it.

Shane gave you nothing. 

To think you’d sought him out. To think you were ready to forgive him for the silence, to understand, to make space, to grow together. 

Fuck

“You know what, don’t worry about it.” You got to your feet, shoved your sandals back on. “Don’t worry about a fucking thing. See you around.”

You looked back, once, as you clambered up the hill from the pond. Shane hadn’t moved. Still sitting there. Still staring out over the water.

You didn’t look back again.

——————

You hadn’t slept well that night. You couldn’t stop replaying your conversation with Shane in your mind. His world view. His assumption of rejection. The way he seemed so sure of how you felt, wouldn’t hear you say otherwise. The phrase “pity fuck.”

You hated it. 

After a few hours of fitful sleep you woke up feeling foggy and vaguely hungover. The sun felt brighter than usual as you opened up the barn, making you wince as you considered your sheep.

It was going to be hot today. Hotter tomorrow. Even worse the next day. Your shearer was a no-go, and Shane wasn’t going to show up after how you’d left things last night.

It was alright. You were resilient. Easier to just get it done yourself anyway.

“Well, ladies, looks like it’s just you and me.”

You’d spent half the night watching sheep shearing videos, the best distraction you could find for the thoughts on repeat in your head. The competent woman made it look so easy, maneuvering the sheep as if they were a particularly wooly bag of flour. She’d had a set of electric clippers. All you had were hand-powered shears. You were glad for that - less chance of damage, for you and for the sheep.

“Alright, Gertie. Let’s do this.” 

Gertie looked at you, chewing on a piece of hay. There was nothing going on behind those eyes. 

You approached her from the side, tried to move her like the woman in the video did, but within seconds Gertie was kicking and baa-ing. You dropped the shears in your attempt to calm her. When you bent to pick them up she knocked her skull into yours with the force only a creature with a completely vacant mind could produce. The impact left you seeing stars.

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

You staggered back, blinking rapidly, trying to focus on the figure standing in the barn doorway. “Getting concussed by a sheep, obviously,” you said when you realized it was Shane.

For a second you’d forgotten you were mad at him.

“I told you I’d do it.” He was carrying a case, hefted it onto a bench. “You think I’m that big a piece of shit that I wouldn’t show up?”

There he was, telling you how you felt again.

Well, alright. You were in a pissy mood anyway. Might as well make it double or nothing. “I figured it was a pity shear,” you snapped.

Shane looked at you for a long moment. His jaw was set, but there was something in his eyes that made you want to squirm, take it all back, just hold him. The vulnerability you saw the first time you met him, and a million times since then. “Can I just do this for you?” he finally said.

You didn’t know how to feel. But there was no question you needed his help.

“Yeah. Yeah, thanks. What can I do?”

“Just stop harassing the sheep,” was all he said as he started unpacking his case. 

“Roger,” you replied with no real joy, and you watched him get to work.

——————

Turns out watching a nice lady shear a sheep on your phone’s screen was nowhere near as enjoyable as watching the guy you had a (admittedly complicated) thing for wrestle livestock in real time. It’d clearly been a while since Shane had done this, but what he lacked in efficiency he made up for in strength and determination.

He’d started the job dressed in his usual jacket, but by the time the first sheep was done he’d stripped it off. By the time the second was over you noticed big circles of sweat on his shirt. Halfway through number three he’d stripped that off too.

It was the first time you’d seen him shirtless, you’d realized. Even on the beach he’d kept his t-shirt on. It was a crying shame, because the man looked incredible topless. Big, broad shoulders, strong biceps, sturdy around the stomach. You wondered if it brought him back to his gridball days, the way he lifted and turned and maneuvered and grappled.

You wondered what it would feel like if he did the same to you.

By sheep number five you were enjoying the show so much you debated sticking a few bills in his waistband. Instead, you brought him a glass of lemonade.

“Thanks,” he said, draining it in one long swallow. You silently handed him your undrunk portion, watched as he drained it too. He handed the glass back to you wordlessly, then got right back to work.

By midday you had a pile of beautiful fleece and nine much cooler looking sheep. The only one left was Gertie. She’d kept near the fence, pacing and bleating whenever Shane came by to herd one of her friends away.

“Want me to round her up?” you asked as Shane used his shirt to wipe sweat off his forehead.

“Nah, you’ll scare her even worse.” 

You tried not to bristle at his tone. “So what do we do?”

“I’ll get her. Got any carrots or anything?”

“I’ll check.”

One of the nice things about living on a farm is that if you needed a carrot, all you had to do was root around in the dirt a bit. While most of your time and energy went into your animals, you kept a sizable garden, and it was easy to find Gertie a treat.

“Thanks,” Shane said when you handed him the bright orange root. He wiped off the dirt on his pants, broke it into a few pieces. “Go over by the fence - we’ll want to give her some space.”

You did as you were told, standing back and watching Shane work. He moved slowly towards the scared creature, settling down on his rear and sliding over to her as he got close. He held out a piece of carrot, let her come to him. You could see his mouth moving, quiet words you couldn’t quite make out. He gave her a gentle pat as she stayed near him, fed her more of the treat.

Something in you softened as you watched him. You wondered how he would react if you approached him the same way, with calm confidence, cool headed and patient, letting him relax into an understanding that it was going to be alright.

You imagined it’d work better than yelling at him, at least. 

Shane’s touch, his approach, was magic. He won Gertie over with surprising efficiency, and soon there was one more fleece to add to the pile, one more happy sheep joining her friends.

“Stay for lunch,” you said as Shane started packing up his shears.

He paused, seemed to turn the invitation over in his mind. “I’m disgusting. I should go shower,” he finally said.

“Shower here.” You’d blurted it out without thinking, but now that it was out in the world you couldn’t grab it back.

Shane hesitated, that vulnerable look back in his eyes. He wanted to stay, you realized. Wanted to stay but was at war with himself about it. “I don’t have any clean clothes.”

“I’ll throw what you’ve got in the washer. You can hang out in my robe while they dry.”

He looked down at the shears. “You really want me to stay that bad?”

“No, I’m putting a considerable amount of effort into convincing you to stay because I’d prefer not to be in your company.” 

He smiled a half smile. You noticed his cheeks were a little pink. “Alright. I guess I don’t have anything better to do today.”

Just what everyone wanted to hear.

You took a breath. Thought about Emily, about raccoons with broken legs. About scratched up arms and vulnerable green eyes

“You really have a way of making a girl feel special.” You were teasing him, but he didn’t take it that way. 

“Sorry,” he said. “I can just go.”. 

“No,” you said. “I’d really like you to stay.”

He finished packing, closed the case. “Okay,” he said, then gave that half-smile. “As long as we both acknowledge it’s a pity shower.”

You snorted. “Whatever it takes, Shane.”

Whatever it takes.

———————

Pity.

The word rolled over and over in your mind as you showed Shane how to work the shower, as you picked up the laundry he set outside the bathroom door. You thought about it as you put soap in the washing machine, turned the dial. You thought about it as you listened to the sound of the water.

Pity. 

Like you were doing charity work. Like Shane was taking something from you every time you interacted. Like you were being a martyr instead of connecting with someone you truly enjoyed being near. Like you were trying to fix him.

You weren’t trying to fix him.

It bothered you more and more as you stared at the bathroom door. You wanted him to know. Wanted him to understand in a way that words couldn’t seem to accomplish. Wanted him to accept it, to acknowledge your feelings as separate and opposite to whatever his head was telling him. To stop feeling the tension of the universe drawing back, ready to sting.

“Fuck it,” you muttered to yourself, and let yourself into the bathroom.

“Is that you?” Shane sounded slightly breathless from behind the shower curtain.

“Yeah, I’m coming in.” You were already stripping off your shirt and bra.

“You’re what?” Shane’s face peered around the curtain, eyes widening almost comically as he saw your half-dressed state. 

“I’m coming in,” you said again, enjoying his dumbstruck expression as you stripped the rest of the way. “And I’m not leaving until you admit it wasn’t a pity fuck.”

“Wait, shit, no, fuck.” You stopped, a foot away from the curtain. From Shane, whose face held a mixture of panic, desire, and awe.

“You okay?” you asked. 

“I’m…” He shifted, eyes darting up and down, from your face to your breasts to your legs and up against. “You’re…” 

“I am,” you confirmed. “Can I come in?”

He swallowed. His face seemed flushed, even for the steamy bathroom. “I’m… I’m naked.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” you agreed. “I had a feeling, what with the shower and all.”

“I’m…” his eyes traveled down your body again, then shot back up to your face, almost guiltily. “I’m… compromised?”

You couldn’t help the laugh. “What does that mean?”

He didn’t say anything. You moved to look into the shower. You went slowly, giving him time to object if he wanted to. 

He didn’t.

As you peered behind the curtain you quickly realized what “compromised” entailed. Shane stood there under the spray, one hand wrapped around the shower curtain, the other around his cock.

His very hard cock.

He dropped it immediately.

He must have been stroking it before you’d burst into the bathroom.

Oh.

Oh.

That was something you could work with.

“I… I was just…” 

You honestly didn’t care why he was in his current state. All you cared about was keeping him there. “I’m coming in,” you declared. 

Shane didn’t object.

It was warm and humid inside the shower. The falling water ran in rivulets down Shane’s messy head, down his chest and arms. He watched you with a mix of desire and trepidation. You moved under the spray.  Moved close to him, close enough to hear his breathing over the sound of the shower. Close enough for the ball of your foot to brush up against his little toe. Close enough that you could press your mouth to his without having to lean forward.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked quietly. 

Shane’s lips parted. His eyes dropped to your mouth. “Yeah,” he said.

And so you did.

A soft press at first. To his top lip. To the bottom. He stayed still, letting you lead. When your tongue gently nudged the seam of his mouth he let you in. His tongue greeted yours softly, pressing back against it without moving forward. You heard him groan, soft, felt his fingers on your hip, very gentle, barely brushing. Felt his cock tap against your stomach as you shifted.

“Fuck,” he huffed, taking a step back. The shower was small, so that was all it took for him to be flush against the wall.

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked.

He shook his head, slow at first, then harder, emphatically. 

“Good,” you said, and wrapped your hand around his length.

For a second you were reminded of Gertie. Shane’s face seemed to lose focus, taking on the same vacant expression you were used to seeing on your sheep. You smiled at him, gave him a soft squeeze. 

As you’d first seen that night in the stadium, Shane’s cock was noticeably thick. While it wasn’t the longest you’d ever encountered, its heft more than made up for it. You liked the way it felt in your hand, hot and heavy, such a useful tool for making Shane’s eyes fall closed, his cheeks flush pink.

“It wasn’t a pity fuck,” you said, and squeezed again.

Shane groaned. 

You pressed a kiss to his jaw. To his cheekbone. To the spot just below his ear. “Say it,” you whispered as you gave him another squeeze.

He groaned once more, shuddering underneath you. You let your hand trail down and cup his sac. Fondle it. Gently, gently, push it up towards his body. “Say it,” you said again.

“Fuck.” His voice was harsh, cracking. “Fuck I… fuck.” You’d brought your free hand up to his shaft, squeezed in rhythm with the hand on his balls.

“It wasn’t a pity fuck,” you prompted. Your hands didn’t stop.

“It… it wasn’t…” His eyes were squeezed closed, hands pressed back hard on the wall of the shower. 

“Keep going,” you said, falling into a steady rhythm of pushing and squeezing. 

Shane groaned again. “You’re.. why are you… fuck fuck fuck.”

You were squeezing a little harder now. Not nearly enough to cause him pain, but enough to make sure he understood your point. “It wasn’t a pity fuck. Say it.”

“It… it wasn’t…” he took in a huge, hitching breath. “It wasn’t a pity fuck.”

“Good,” you said, rewarding him with a slightly faster pace. He moaned into it, body tightening with pleasure. “Now say it again.”

“It wasn’t… fuck… it wasn’t a pity fuck.”

“Good. Again.”

“It wasn’t a pity fuck.” He sounded a little more confident now, though his voice hitched as your thumb moved up to trace across his head.

“Good, Shane,” you whispered. He gave a full body shudder at the sound of his name. “Now show me how you like to be touched.”

His hands were on top of yours in an instant, guiding you to a much tighter grip than you would have expected. He bucked into your hands, forehead coming to rest on your shoulder, groaning, breath hitching, shaking. You pressed a kiss to his wet hair, loved the way he leaned into you. His hands felt strong over yours, fingers calloused and clever. He gasped lightly with each squeeze of your hands. 

“I want to be here,” you said. He moaned, his thrusts losing rhythm. You kissed his temple. “I want to be here with you, Shane.”

That seemed to do it. He groaned, grunted, and was coming over your joined hands. The shower washed you both clean.

You anticipated the way he leaned on you this time, braced yourself for it. He pulled you close, buried his face in the curve of your neck. You held him, stroked his hair, murmured quietly until the hot water ran out and a deluge of cold had you both scrambling out of the shower.

“Refreshing,” you laughed as you threw Shane a towel.

“That’s one way to put it.” He was looking at you very intently. You felt a little thrill go through you, twist through your core. You tried to shake it off.

“My robe’s over there.” You pointed at it with your head as you wrapped a towel around your torso. “I’m going to go get dressed and start some lunch.”

You left Shane to it without looking back. You told yourself it was to give him privacy, but if you were honest you were feeling a little keyed up. You’d take a couple minutes to cool down, recenter yourself, and then take on whatever came next.

It seemed Shane had a different idea in mind.

You were toweling off your hair when he entered your bedroom. He didn’t knock. You hadn’t dressed yet, and instinct had you cringing, covering up with the towel as he came through the door.

“Shane! I -“ It was foolish - you’d just spent the last ten minutes plastered to him, but it felt a little different here in the bedroom, especially with the way he was looking at you as he stood there in your surprisingly well-fitting robe.

“I figured… since we’re barging in on each other and all…” He swallowed, that nervous look on his face. You wondered if he was about to bolt, or puff those quills up and say something to push you away.

“What is it?” Your voice was gentle.

“I… I want more of you. Now, I mean. And after now too, if you want. But definitely now.”

His nervousness seemed to be waning. Something else was starting to take its place - the Shane you’d been seeing for the past month. The one with a little bit of confidence, a little bit of light. The sun peeking out from behind the clouds. The universe slackening the rubber band.

“I’m all ears,” you said, shifting your towel to wrap back around your torso. You couldn’t help the smile spreading across your face. He looked cute, you realized, standing there in your light purple robe. Hair mussed, cheeks a little pink, an answering smile of his own. “What are you up for?”

“Well…” He glanced down, scratching at the back of his head in such an endearing gesture of nervousness you wanted to pull him to you, kiss his flushed cheeks. “You looked so cute out there, when I was shearing. I kept thinking about how I wanted to…” He trailed off, staring down at your feet.

You were loving this. “Go on…” you prompted.

“Yoba…” Shane groaned, swiping a hand down his face. “I kept imagining getting down on my knees in front of you and eating you out.” 

He was beet red now. You couldn’t help the delighted “Shane!” that came out of your mouth. 

“What? What?” He looked vaguely panicked. “Shit, should I have not said that? I’m so fucking out of practice with this….”

“No no no,” you said quickly. “I’m all for it! Damn, get over here right now, I’m all in. If you still want to, of course.”

“If I still want to,” he repeated incredulously. “Like going down on you wouldn’t be the highlight of my entire fucking life.”

He wasn’t moving, though. He was still standing by the door. 

“C‘mere,” you said, holding out a hand. He looked at it for a moment, then crossed to you, took it. You pulled him close, sighed as he put his arms around you, ran an open hand over the top of your back. 

“You feel so nice,” he whispered. 

“So do you,” you said.

Shane pressed his mouth to your bare shoulder. Kissed it. Let his lips linger a breath above your skin. You shivered at his gentleness, felt something start twisting again in your core.

“It wasn’t a pity fuck,” he said.

“It wasn’t a pity fuck,” you confirmed.

His mouth traveled up your neck, placing soft kisses on your pulse, your jaw, your cheekbone, your temple. 

“You want to be here,” he said.

“I want to be here,” you confirmed.

He pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth. Stayed there for a moment. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his hand trembled on your back. His mouth shifted, kissing your lips now. You let him control it. Something about how soft and gentle he was made you melt. His hand cupped the side of your head, thumb brushing against your cheek, and you wondered if maybe you were going about it all wrong, if what he needed was gentleness and romance and whispered endearments and soft brushes of your fingertips. 

But then he was backing you up against the bed (breath hitching, face so so close to you as you moved), pushing you down by the hips to sit, dragging your towel off of you in the process, and you figured he was probably just fine with the current pace.

He pressed you back further, laying you down on your back, scooting you up the bed. You expected the kisses to continue, but instead he pulled back, looked at you. Your core coiled up even tighter as his eyes darted over your body. “Yoba,” he said. “You are so far out of my fucking league. Fuck.” 

“Get down here,” was all you could think to say. You grabbed him by the collar of the robe, pulled him down against you. He went easily, settling in between your parted legs, lips slotting against yours, not slow and gentle this time. He was back to the quick, nearly frantic pace you remembered from the stadium. It made you arch your back, the sudden rush of sensation, the feel of lips and stubble and tongue. The tips of your breasts brushed against the softness of the robe, and that was absolutely not what you were interested in, you wanted heat and skin and Shane, so you pulled at the collar of the garment as he kissed you, helped him shrug it off, and the feel of his heavy warmth as he laid back on top of you was exactly, exactly as good as you thought it’d be.

His lips, his weight, the feeling of skin on skin was decadent, had you moaning, shifting your hips under his, chasing more sensation. You could feel his cock hardening again, and that was just a-okay by you, forget his mouth, you wanted him in you, here in your bed, deep and slow and heavy with the window open and the smell of sun-warmed grass wafting through. But he was gasping a little, breaking away, sitting back on his knees. “I need to focus,” you heard him mumble. 

“I need you to touch me,” you replied. Shane smiled at the words, genuine, sweet, eyes sparkling a bit. 

“That’s the plan, baby. Just… fuck, just give me a sec, okay? I’m still a little… it’s just…” he trailed off. One of his hands had found its way to your thigh. It rested there, warm and still. It only drove you a little bit crazy.

“Still getting used to it?” 

Shane’s mouth twisted a little. “Yeah,” he said. His hand moved, stroked up and down. He watched it. “It meant something to me,” he said after a moment.

It took a minute for your mind to catch up, to realize he was saying what you’d been needing him to say ever since that night in the stadium.

“Yeah?” you said.

Shane nodded. Then, with what seemed like great difficulty, he brought his eyes to meet yours. “Sorry for… for making you think it didn’t. It’s all so much at once… it’s almost like it hurts.” He scoffed, looked back at his hand. “Sorry, that’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” you said. 

Shane shrugged. “I’m really, really fucking bad at this.” His eyes met yours again. “I’m sorry for being such a dick. You didn’t deserve that. Can I just make you feel good now?”

You laughed, feeling light and happy and not just a little bit turned on by the way his hand kept moving up and down your thigh. “Yes please.”

Shane smiled, a little tight, but genuine. “Good,” he said. “Now stay still and let me do this.”

You would have quipped something back, a “yes, sir!” or an “aye, aye, captain,” but both of his hands were on your thighs now, pressing down all warm and steady, the calluses on his palms causing just the slightest bit of friction as they moved upwards, his thumbs spread and grazing the line where your legs met your core, opening you up, and honestly words weren’t something that felt all that important in the moment.

And then his mouth was on you too, on your lower stomach, kissing below your navel, soft and breathy and lingering. You ran your fingers through his hair and he made a small sound, nodding into you. You carded the strands as his mouth worked, moving to your hips now, traveling down to your thighs, pressing kisses in a wide arc around your core. 

It was sweet, the way he seemed to be enjoying you, but also a little frustrating. His warmth, the feel of his lips, the way he was breathing in through his nose, it went straight to your stomach, your hips. You felt yourself tensing as his lips pressed high on your inner thigh, less than an inch from where you wanted his mouth but still so, so far away. 

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” you finally asked.

Shane looked up at you from between your legs, a look in his eye that you’d never seen before. Confident. Daring. Maybe even cocky. It struck you that you might be in a little bit of trouble.

“Little eager, aren’t we?” he teased, and pressed another soft kiss to your thigh.

“Gotta… fuck.” He’d nipped at the spot he’d been kissing, the sudden sting zinging through your core. You heard him huff a little laugh. “Gotta get the fleece dealt with this afternoon.”

“Mmmm,” was all Shane said. He’d switched to sucking, latching his mouth onto that same spot, that bit of skin so teasingly close to but so entirely not what you needed. 

“Shane….” you whined, hitching your hips up as your thighs tensed.

“Easy, girl,” he laughed, anchoring you down with one flat hand on your hip bone. 

“Oh, fuck off,” you muttered, and it made him laugh harder.

“Who’d have thought our new farmer would be so fucking needy,” he mused, voice warm with just a hint of smug. 

“Who’d have thought you’d be such a fucking tease?” You yanked on his hair as you said it, playful, but the way he groaned as you pulled was anything but lighthearted. 

Interesting. 

You pulled a little harder. Shane looked up at you, eyes blown out in a way you’d never seen before. “You want it that bad?” You couldn’t tell if it was confidence in his voice or awe. 

You nodded, a little too overwhelmed by the way he was looking at you to figure out what to say. 

“Yoba,” he breathed. “How are you fucking real?” He still wasn’t moving though, was still looking up at you, so you tightened your grip on his hair. His lips parted, his eyes squeezed shut, and he shuddered between your legs.

“Focus,” you said. Repeating his words from earlier was about all you were able to do.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, okay, okay.”

You relaxed your grip, loved the way he seemed to fall forward, pressing soft kisses - one, two, three - to your mound before tracing the tip of his tongue over the hood of your clit. You gasped at the touch, so much closer to what you needed but not yet satisfying. “More,” you said, tugging lightly at his hair. The way Shane groaned seemed out of proportion with the gentle pull, but fuck, it was working, his tongue was on you properly now, working at your nub with soft, steady licks that had you gasping within seconds.

“Fuck,” you whispered, trying to keep from bucking up into his mouth. You could feel his stubble scraping against your folds, your inner thigh, the scratch augmenting the gentle stroke of his tongue in a way that had you clenching, desperate to move. You dispersed the tension by running both hands through his hair, stroking, grasping, pulling, enjoying his moans, the way his shoulders shuddered as you clutched him. You could see how flushed his cheeks were as he tongued you, the way his eyes squeezed shut. You tried to memorize the image, the feeling, the way his breaths were coming quick and excited, the way his hands were stroking at your hips. 

His tongue quickened, firmer now, flicking steadily at the side of your clit, each movement managing to hit a nerve that sent waves through your body. Part of you wanted to slow down, to savor the feeling of his mouth on you, his warmth between your legs, but the other part of your mind was stronger. The selfish, greedy one. The one that wanted more, that wanted now, the one that was pulling harder at his hair, fed by the noises Shane made as you did. The one that pushed up against his hands, pulled him into you, held him there as he kept hitting that perfect spot that was making you groan, making you round in on him, muscles tight and shaking, mind going gloriously blank for the first time in days, in weeks, in months. Since the first time you saw him. You hovered in the climax, tense, stretched, like a rubber band about to snap.

But instead you shattered, falling apart in a rush of joy and wet and heat and affection and Shane, looking up at you with clear green eyes. 

“Shit,” you whined, letting go of his hair, falling back on the bed. “How are you so good at that?”

Shane pressed one more soft kiss to your mound, then looked up at you with a grin. “Gotta be good at something.”

“Yoba,” you groaned. “Get up here.” He shrugged his way out from between your legs, crawled up next to you. You reached an arm out, let him rest his head against your chest. He was warm, a little scratchy, eyes closed and jaw relaxed. You scratched your fingers through his hair, closed your eyes. A breeze floated in through the open window. You could hear a sheep bleating somewhere out in the barn.

“It’s going to hurt like hell when I fuck this up,” Shane said, so quiet you could barely hear it.

There was no way to logic him out of it, no way to set the gears right in his mind. All there was to do was hold him, stroke his hair, let him feel the beat of your heart. You were resilient, and so, you knew, was he. 

You pressed a kiss to his head, felt him snuggle in closer, loose and relaxed despite his words. It would hurt like hell if this ended, you realized, but it wasn’t an inevitability. If the universe snapped at Shane, let loose that rubber band, you could always snap at it right back.

And as Shane sighed into you, interlaced his fingers with your own, you vowed that no matter what, you would snap back harder. 

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Before Veilguard's release I was theorizing the Veilguard companion characters might have been designed to be parallels to the known Evanuris, but I couldn't place all of them.

Now that I've played the game (almost twice) I think I've figured them all out.

Rook - Elgar'nan, the leader. Controller of light and dark. The one who influences the others.

Neve - Mythal, who can be a fierce protector or a source of inspiration and hope.

Harding - Andruil, the hunter, who went mad from the Void and had to fight her way back

Bellara - June, the inventor. Master of magical artifact.

Lucanis - Dirthamen, keeper of secrets, who mastered the twin ravens of Fear and Deceit, and returned from death.

Davrin - Ghilan'nain, Master of Monsters, Keeper of Halla.

Emmrich - Falon'Din, the necromancer. Friend of the dead.

Taash - Sylaise, who's fire cannot be quenched.

Which leaves Solas to play the role he always has - Fen'Harel, the trickster and betrayer, who could ally with them, if only they will listen to his advice and try to protect their world as best as they can.

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I LOVE EMMRICH HAHAHA

Jesus fucking christ, Emmrich 💀💀💀

(continuation of this banter, text-only paraphrasing srry)

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GODS EMMRICH VOLKARIN ♥️♥️♥️

i need you all to watch this because i took slightly more wary/incredulous options re: necromancy in my second playthrough and got the single most amazing dialogue in emmrich's romance:

emmrich: there are mysteries past our comprehension. something beyond the weft of magic or deepest fade. emmrich: when i'm fortunate, i spy suggestions of them here. rook: i do find the necropolis exciting—creepy! weird and creepy! emmrich: you astound me, rook. you have a distaste for the dead, the undead and necromancy. and yet... rook: where's this heading? emmrich: there's no shame in a little attraction to the forbidden, my darling. rook: pfft! what? like i want you to throw me over one of those fancy graves with skulls and flowers and floating spirits, and— and... rook: (clears throat) you're lucky i like you. emmrich: undoubtedly.

torn between second-hand embarrassement for rook digging his own grave (no pun intended) vs the hilarity of emmrich's knowing look i'm—

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hate solas or not romance him or not whatever like. i dont understand how he doesnt drive everyone CRAZY as a character.

like. have you ever just sat and thought about. what it must be like. the trauma. the shakespearean sadness of being the only person that remembers DEATH not being a thing.

and you feel so insane because youre going around telling people “no you dont understand the world as it exists now is fucking horrible people used to not DIE.” and theyre like “its fine as it is just let it be and let us live and die as we are”, desperate for you to acknowledge their personhood. Meanwhile your entire race is the victim of genocide and slavery and cultural erasure, what little magic remains in the world is shunned and mages are systematically imprisoned for being fucking born and people die of old age and its because of you. and now its your cross to bear to atone for ALL of that and justify to people that the world could be better but no one else knows anything different so they dont get it and just know they dont want to die.

And so the only way you can cope with the trauma of that is by treating the world and everyone in it like it’s a bad dream.

Its just so existential. It’s like what if you could talk to God and ask him why he made the world but he was just some vaguely pathetic dude and his answer was “it was a mistake and i regret it every day”.

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(video) Trick Weekes describes another rule they follow when writing Solas (which explains why players have had completely opposite reactions to him)(x)

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☀️ introduction ☀️

Hello! I’m new and wanted to make an account dedicated to paganism and witchcraft and meet those with similar interests :) I’ve been a witch & pagan since around 2021 with Lady Freyja being one of my first deities to work with me!

(Will be updated as time goes)

Name: Kayn

Age: 20 yrs old

Pronouns: she/they

Sexuality/Gender: You have a better guess than I do

Astrology Signs: Sagittarius Sun, Libra Moon, Aries Rising

Currently Working With: Lady Freyja, Jörmungandr, Lord Hades, Lord Lucifer, Lord Apollo

Will Soon be Devoted to: Lord Apollo, Lord Hades

Will Soon Work With: N/A

Magickal Interests: Sigils, Crystals, Self-Love Spells, Meditation, Tarot, Glamour Magick, Protection Magick, Deity Work, Pyromancy, Runes, Sea Magick

Looking to Learn: Demonolatry, Necromancy, Death Magick, Osteomancy

Other Interests: Drawing & Painting, Horror Movies/Games (Until Dawn, Fran Bow, Texas Chainsaw Massacre), Makeup, Psychology

Some Important Posts:

Deity Guides: Jormungandr Deity Worship: Low Cost Offerings, Work v Worship, Divination Methods, Devotional Offerings, How my Deities Look, Moodboards: Apollo, Me&Hades&Apollo, Apollo(Musagetes Prayer), Deity Wallpapers, Freyja, Hephaestus, Hermes, Hades, Hedone, Hera, Lucifer

This is a safe space for LGBTQIA+, all races, all religions, and all people other than bigots. Obv DNI if you are racist, homophobic, ableist, anti-feminist, right-wing, transphobic, someone who pushes your religion onto others, etc.!!

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So excited for more!

ＬｉｍｉｎａｌＳｐａｃｅｓ — Chapter 1

Modern AU (College/University) | PZA | Explicit | Chapters: 1/4 | Words: 7,945

Summary: Inspired by the film The Dreamers. Zagreus is a university student who feels aimless in life. His girlfriend dumped him, things between him & his best friend are weird, and he lacks ambition in his studies, while the optimistic visions of his generation’s future are becoming lost. Until one day, he falls into the orbit of Achilles & Patroclus―a charming, yet eccentric pair who completely alter Zagreus’ outlook on life & death, love & loss, past & future, and the transitions in between.

Excerpt:

“Can I ask you something? Who is that guy sitting over there? Do you know him?”

Achilles follows the direction of Zagreus’ gaze, turning to the young man reading. The man doesn’t seem to notice them talking about him, and he doesn’t look up from his book.

“Oh, him? That’s Patroclus,” Achilles says, turning back around.

“Oh, I see. Is he a friend of yours?”

Boyfriend, Zagreus’ mind supplies at once, unbidden, and he steels himself, even if he prays it isn’t the case.

“He’s my brother.”

“He is?” Zagreus’ inner self, still delusional beyond all reason, silently fist pumps in celebration.

Achilles nods. “Mm-hm. We’re twins.”

“Twins?”

Zagreus looks over again toward Patroclus, then back to Achilles, turning his head to one side as he considers them both. He tries not to let his skepticism show on his face; he has seen news stories before about miracle feats of genetics, in which natural-born twins of the same parents were nevertheless complete opposites in their complexions. Zagreus considers the possibility that perhaps these two are such a case, and he doesn’t want to be so carelessly ignorant as to dismiss them out of hand.

And indeed—the longer he studies them, the more they do appear to have a certain shared aura between them, though Zagreus can’t be sure if it’s the fundamental, physical shapes of their features, molded by shared blood, or if it’s more the intangible qualities in mannerism of two people who have shared everything—perhaps their whole lives—together. Even longtime couples, Zagreus reasons, who ostensibly look nothing alike, often seem as though they are two different versions of the same person.

“Do you want to meet him?” Achilles asks, apparently interpreting Zagreus’ questioning as interest in his brother. And at this point, Zagreus himself probably wouldn’t even consider it a misunderstanding.

“Sure.”

Achilles’ eyes gleam, as if this is a rare treat for him, and there is nothing in the whole world he would like more.

READ THE REST ON AO3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57964459/chapters/147557824

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spotify is raising prices again here's the apk that gives you premium for free

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ur opinion on katsuki playing the big tough ‘bully’ then being a panting perv with the chubby girl in his class??

like he’s so mean and cold to her but he’s locked up in his room sniffing her gum shorts he stole on the verge of tears while jacking off

he calls you gross and other mean things his crude mouth can spew. it's almost breathing fire from how his words burn your skin from hearing his daily torment but alas, bakugo's a huge hypocrite.

katsuki could produce such copious amounts of his sweat and one mistake in activating his quirk he would blow up his room. he's angry. the veins in his body bulge while sweat drips in his forehead. the sweet scent of caramel is wafting in the confines in his room. the hem of his shirt tucked between his teeth. his short pulled down below his knees and boxers lowered, enough to grab his aching cock in his hand. pumping furiously at the thought of you.

funny how he calls you gross and yet, here he is. disgustingly masturbating with your gym shorts in his left hand and the other palming his spit-lubed cock. he imagines you beneath him. begging and moaning for him to take you. watch as you cry from how good he was fucking you. gag as you envelop your warm mouth over his thick cock. choking as he shoves your head deeper and swallow his cum down in your throat and you would spread your hole. asking him desperately to use you.

k-katsuki!

his eyes widens. a sudden flash of your face in his brain while you call his name. his adorable, chubby classmate all on her glory for him. he bites his moan. stifled with his shirt in his teeth and his nose flared from the heady scent of your shorts. drenched in earlier's gym class.

his cock throbs with every stroke. closing his eyes in a manner to fully picture you naked while he jerks. hips stuttering and shoving his cock deeper in his fist as the muscles in his abdomen contracts and his balls is heavy. preparing for release.

katsuki blinks, tears clumping in his lashes while he think of you. his teeth marking the soft expanse of your skin so everyone will know you belong to him. his tongue wide and long enough to put it in your tight, little hole. twitching at his tongue wiggling inside you. you would grind your pussy in his face and katsuki would inhale your scent. burning in his memory and he'll fold you in half. bend you in positions that you didn't know and he'll rut deep inside you like there's no tomorrow.

he came bursting in his hands. shooting loads of the white color of his own release and when the temporary bliss passes away. katsuki in his bed covered with his own shame. dripping in his fist and staining his black shirt.

katsuki curses. he knows how his actions contradict what he really says to you and you probably hate him. who wouldn't? he's the resident asshole. a bully who likes to torment the weak like you.

you're only the weak person he likes and he would act as your protector. the strong and the brave with a barbed tongue. reeling from his post-orgasm state, katsuki imagines that with every insult he says to you, you're dripping wet. he would laugh at you and tell how filthy you are.

such thoughts this late and it's already past his bedtime. bakugo shakes his head to remove the thoughts of you plaguing him. you tormented him enough for this night and he have problems to take care of. cleaning his shame and returning your gym shorts he stole before you notice it's gone from the laundry room.

bakugo wistfully wishes that whatever he desired for tonight will come true.

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non sexual boob touching with the 1A boys :( (P2)

izuku coming home after training, exhausted, achy and creaky, and resting his entire big boy weight on ur body. you wheeze but don’t tell him to get off, instead u stroke his hair and continue scroll on ur little tink tonk app while he puts his face immediately between your boobs. even grabs em and smushes them into his face. makes a little groaning sound, he is so tired and ur boobs are the only thing that can fix it.

“u alright there izuku?”u ask when he doesn’t move for a couple minutes. he just makes a dismissing grunt and peaks up from ur chest, “i love ur boobs.”

you can’t help but laugh and play with hair some more, finally adjusting to his bulk on top of u. he will stay there until ur going to pee urself or the sun explodes, which ever comes first.

shoto will always cop a feel in his sleep. dead of fuckinh night you wake up to this dudes cold ass fingers squeezing that shit like there’s no tomorrow. the first few times u push his arm away but eventually u get used to it and sleep thru, and then u wake up with the birds chirping and the sun shining and his freezing cold hand still on ur titty. at first u though maybe he was being slick and “doing it in his sleep”, but c’mon, if shoto wanted to he would, call him what you want but he is an honest man above all. when he wakes up, he gives it an experimental squig-squig. he looks to the side and oh, that’s what that was. he gives it another squig-squig and makes a sleepy little laugh, like a mangy teen boy thag just searched ‘naked girls’ for the first time,

“nice,” he will murmur.

dirty little man.

katsuki is a guarded little guy, until it comes to you. your presence is just about the only place he isn’t embarrassed to be silly or affectionate or care to much. he doesn’t have to worry about his image with you, because he’s already let you in, and you already love him, so there’s no pretending to do. so, when you say some dumb shit, he doesn’t stop to berate you like he would with other people. which is why he does pretty much anything you tell him to. one day, you were hanging out with each other in your room. he was lying on the bed, reading a book, and you were looking at yourself in the mirror.

“katsuki, i think my boobs are getting smaller.”

“oh yeah?” he didn’t even look up as he answered.

“yeah, can u come check?”

without a second thought, he sets his book down and gets to his feet, meandering behind you.

“hold em and make sure”

and without a single thought bouncing around in his skull, he puts his big man hands on your titties. he cups them and shakes them a little, giving them a little squeeze.

“well, they feel the same to me.”

“ok, that’s good. thank you.”

“anytime.”

...

“you can lie back down now.”

he starts like you just slapped him and scrambles away, letting go of ur boobies and throwing himself back onto bed.

how embarrassing. he is worried he will die.

reblogs appreciated! masterlist

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" DOUBLE BUBBLE DISCO QUEEN " — katsuki bakugou.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: fem bratty pink!reader ノ pussy whipped bakugou ノ established relationship ノ explicit sexual content ノ p in v ノ degradation: f receiving ノ reader has pink hair and pink style.

KATSUKI BAKUGOU didn’t know what to make of you at first. He’d never admit you were intimidating, but your commitment to one color made him nauseous. Pink was everything he saw you sport, as if you couldn’t have a style outside of it. Even your hair sprouted from your scalp in a soft pink shade. Regardless of his initial apprehension, somehow he was roped into a relationship with you. Now he carries your many bags, opens doors for you, holds your hand when you start yapping too much. You annoy him, and yet he sticks with you.

He’s come to respect you, and even like you a little bit. Not that you give him any choice. He can’t be fooled by your soft appearance, you’re just as domineering as he is. You’re spoiled rotten, and high maintenance as hell. It’s taken him loads of tries to get it right, to treat you exactly how you believe you deserve to. It’s difficult—next to impossible—but you make it worth it, don’t you?

When you spread those legs, all pretty and eager for him, things go quiet. For once, things go his way. Katsuki’s never considered himself to be a pussy-driven guy until he met you. Suddenly, he’s letting you bully him into all kinds of things just for a glimpse of that kitty. He’d feel shame if his mouth wasn’t watering right now staring down at those drippy lips, open and waiting for him.

“C’mon, Katsu. Wanna feel you.” you whine with a coy smile to your lips, impatient and brows upturned. Just as you wiggle your hips enticingly, mean and callused hands envelope them, pinning your ass to the mattress.

Gripping the base, he feeds himself into your hole, sniffing out the give until you moan just from the stretch, and he sighs with goddamn relief. As if he’s finally getting payback for everything you throw at him. You’re a damn bitch, and you know he thinks so, but getting this tight cunt gives you a blank slate. After he’s good and fucked his fill, he’ll be ready to take your attitude again. For now, he keeps a palm over that smart mouth of yours, just so you don’t ruin the moment.

“Mmf—“ he grunts, scooping an arm under your knee to pick your leg up, giving himself a little more room inside you. “Even this princess pussy’s a brat…Clenching down on me.” he speaks through his teeth, rutting in and out to hollow out a space for himself. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth, you know that?” A bold-faced lie, but you take it anyway, nodding to him. Anything to get him to keep going, anything to get him to make you loosen up so he can fuck you for real. His palm over your mouth remains, and you smell his sweet scent of sweat.

“Running me ‘round, dangling this cunt in front of me knowing I’ll do whatever for it. Tch, you’re so damn annoying.” His words in your ear sends a powerful shudder down your spine, fluttering your eyelashes. You slick, lubing up his entry as he keeps pushing in and in. Even without seeing his face, breathing hard through your nose over his third pinky knuckle, you can feel him grin next to you. You know it's wolfish just from the sound of his reply, “You like hearing that shit, huh?” His husky voice grates your ears and you whimper pitifully under his weight.

His hips increase their fervor, getting excited over the new room in your hole, setting an immediate bruising pace just to be a jerk.

“For someone so spoiled, struttin’ ‘round like you can buy anything you want with daddy’s money, you sure like gettin’ called out on it.” That's what he's here for.

@HANASNX 2024 | do not copy, plagiarize, or steal.

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Body & Soul (BKDK x Reader)

Pairing : Bakugou x reader x Deku (aged-up characters)

Rating : E, 18+

Tags : Fem reader, use of the pronouns ‘she / her’ | PWP | established relationship | polyamory | threesome | praise kink | a bit of degradation (more like them being condescending little shits, but no insults) | edging | oral sex (f & m receiving) | facefucking (kind of) | uhh double-teaming?? | excessive use of petnames | Just the boys manhandling you into oblivion | I’m a whiny sub and it shows in my fics < that should be an AO3 tag | Some shippy moments because I can’t help myself 😌 | This is so self-indulgent huh | Guys life’s too short to choose just one

Word count : 8842 [AO3]

Summary : Just a little birthday present your sweet boyfriends planned for you.

A/N : It’s been literal months, and wow, it’s finally out. So have these 8K of filth while I write something bigger and with an actual plot. Thank you to @hoe-doroki​ for beta-reading and dealing with my pervy ass <3

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Keep reading

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Forbidden Feelings - part 2

Pairing: Astarion x plus size Tav

Summary: Tav can't figure out what's wrong with her favourite vampire until she realises he's starving.

Warnings: explicit content 18+ only, blood drinking (duh vampire), fingering, grinding.

A/n: thank you so much for your interest in this story! There will be one more part after this.

Part one

~

The second she stepped out of the lift, Tav knew that the Underdark was absolutely the wrong word for this place. Yes, the biome existed under their feet, but dark?

It glowed. Every colour was luminescent, from the tiny clusters of moss wedged between stone to the neon smudges of the Myconids. Their entire party was mesmerised.

Except Astarion. His resplendent demeanour had wilted with each day underground, sneaking around far behind herself, Gale and Shadowheart. Tav seemed to feel his absence keenest, turning around every few steps for a glimpse of shining hair.

On the rare occasion he caught up with them, pithy quips became tinged in venom. After he had called Shadowheart a "dead-eyed virgin," and she'd threatened to shave his head in his sleep, Tav had intervened to separate them. She swore the vampire's haughty expression faltered as he turned his back to regain his position at the rear.

He avoided them in camp, too. By the time she'd finished setting up her tent, his was abandoned. Tav frowned at the haphazard pile of pillows in the centre of the floor.

It wasn't like him to dump his belongings - every single thing had its place. Gods, she remembered him lecturing her at length about the "importance of how the world views you, darling." The pet name stirred her even now.

Her cheeks flared hot. This was bullshit.

So what, she rejected his fake seduction, and now he was going to leave? So much for their friendship, if that was real. It was to her.

She took a deep breath. Shoving a few of the larger cushions together, she tried to get comfortable on the floor. Astarion could have his tantrum, but he wasn't getting away without using his words.

~

Sleep was surprisingly easy there on the ground, surrounded by the scent of him. Cold, citrus, something woodsy too. It was...comforting.

Luckily, she'd woken before he slipped inside the tent, laying on her side with her arm tucked under her cheek.

Their eyes meet in the low light of the last candle sputtering beside her, his widening in shock before narrowing.

It should have been her first warning. It was impossible to sneak up on Astarion, even on his bad days.

"What do you think you are doing?" His syllables are clipped, a sure sign he's pissed.

Tav ignores the jab, propping herself up on her elbow and whispering back, "If I thought you'd speak to me like an adult, I wouldn't have resorted to this."

His eyes follow the curve of her neck, where her hair has slid away and stares, lips parted.

"Astarion." She hisses, both to get his attention and break the tension rapidly filling the tent.

His eyes meet hers again. The irises are a duller red than normal, dark smudges underneath, but the naked hunger in his expression makes her belly swoop.

He's starving.

Her heart races under that gaze, unable to look away from so much want directed at her. "When did you last feed?'

His hand clenches around where it still holds the tent flap. "Some time ago."

A moment passes, neither of them move. He'd never fed on her, never even asked to, but looking up at him now, she wants it.

"Do it." She whispered, low and soft like a purr.

She always underestimates how he can move, the space between them shrinking in an instant. One arm on either side of her body. She sees the effort in the strain of his muscles, his eyes fixed on her pulse. They flicker to her face.

"Are you sure?"

He's never sounded like this before, so broken and bare, and it makes her throb for wanting him.

"Yes."

~

This was everything he'd spent the past week avoiding, hanging back behind the group, walking circles around and around the camp until dawn to try and get away from the temptation.

Her. Splayed out like a fucking feast in his tent. And he, weakened and so willing to throw everything away for a taste of her.

She did exactly what he'd feared. One look, and she saw straight through him. The hunger, yes, but gods, he hoped, not the longing. Not the nights spent fantasising about her wrapping her thighs around him.

"Do it." She breathes, and he's so far gone he doesn't know which he'd prefer. Both. Definitely both.

He's on her before he knows what's happening. Watching the life pulse in her throat. Strong, defiant. Like her. The swell of her breast pressing against his skin. Gods he can't think.

He has to be sure she wants this. Drags his attention to her eyes, darkened with something he prays isn't fear.

"Are you sure?" His voice is unrecognisable, but hers is steady as a rock.

"Yes."

The sound he makes is something between a growl and a whimper, laving his tongue over her pulse point. Feeling the blood quicken underneath. Then she gasps, and he can't hold back anymore.

He bites deep without really meaning to, needing as much of her in his mouth as he can possibly take. He drags the blood over his tongue, so rich and warm and sweet, and swallows, moaning deep in his chest.

She's so warm and so soft everywhere he touches. Dragging his fingertips up the side of her body, pushing his knee between hers so he can hold her head to the side. She's responsive, too. Little breathy sounds that become louder the more control he loses.

He loses it shockingly fast, her blood smeared across his mouth as he ruts against her hip. Then it's her hand in his hair, her voice begging him to please please touch her. Her silken cunt that squeezes his fingers and quivers under the pad of his thumb when he rubs her so so softly she calls his name.

It's too much, surrounded by her warmth and her plush body and her trust and the taste of her and oh fuck oh fuck-

"Oh fuck." He cries against the wounds in her skin, coming harder than he ever has in his life.

Their panting fills the quiet tent, reeling from something they both know will be impossible to come back from.

Astarion never gave up that easy.

"Well, my dear." He winces at the hollow sound of his own voice, turning away from her to clean himself up. "That was positively life-giving."

He feels her disappointment without even facing her. Something crumbles in his chest as she stands to leave.

"This was a gift." His voice is a little less hollow as he hands her a handkerchief to wipe her neck. "I won't forget it."

Tav ducks out of the tent without saying a word.

[cats-soft-sanctuary]

the threshold has been crossed, it is now springtime!!

[cats-soft-sanctuary]

a little self-indulgent comic :>