#writing request

[glasvera]

Smut and fluff with marvel rivals iron fist (lin Lie) x fem superhero reader, please and thank you ❤️

I uh... went a lil crazy on this one LOL

我的月亮 (Wǒ de Yuèliàng)

Iron Fist x Fem!Superhero!Reader

Description: What better way to recover after a grueling fight with Chīyóu's demon army than a dip in a hot spring?

Warnings/Disclaimers: SMUT (18+ only, Minors DNI!!!!), brief combat, cursing, vaginal sex, standing sex, sex in a hot spring, reader has a moment of self-consciousness, lots of fluff and comfort, super lovey-dovey

A/N: Fun fact about me: I took Mandarin as a second language starting in middle school. I don't remember much of it (though I can ask you if there's a bathroom somewhere or when your birthday is), but it was really fun going back and recognizing things like words or grammar. I was basically the Chinese equivalent of a weeb in my younger years so this was a major throwback LOL

Word Count: 4.7k

Relationships between superheroes was… not something most would recommend. Passionate at best, and tumultuous and unpredictable at worst. You might go for weeks, months, without seeing one another, and it was a death sentence to allow that gnawing worry over the other’s safety to take hold of you.

It’s why you were so eager to be sent on a mission in Yúnnán Shěng. It was Iron Fist’s mission, to be fair, but your ability to fly would help give him the extra edge he needed, so he was quick to request your assistance. You spot him as you soar over the bustling tourist city of Kūnmíng, crouched on top of the spire of a lone temple. It’s quieter here, with the sound of chirping insects and wind ruffling the leaves of bamboo stalks the only things to pierce the relative silence of the night.

“There you are, wǒ de yuèliàng,” he greets you as you come to hover by his side. Your heart flutters and you blush at the nickname he’s given you. My moon. 

“You know I will always come when you need me, Iron Fist.” It almost pains you to call him by his hero name, but you knew just as well as any superhero that it was always better to be safe in public even if you seem to be alone.

He smiles gratefully, taking your hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know. Doesn’t change how happy it always makes me to see you, though.”

You flash him a brilliant smile in turn. “Perhaps we could take advantage of the scenery once our mission is over?” you suggest, batting your eyelashes at him and giving him pleading eyes.

He snorts a playful laugh at your display before tugging your floating form towards him for a quick kiss. “Let’s see how things go first. I’d hate to get you all excited for a hike only to have to carry you the whole way,” he teases with a cocky grin before brushing his nose against yours affectionately. You stick your tongue out at him in response and blow him a raspberry, which he quickly pulls back to avoid as he wipes the spray of spittle from his face. “Hey! I’m only kidding!” he protests with a jovial laugh.

With your hands on your hips, you cock your head to one side and quirk a brow. “If anyone’s gonna end up being carried, it would be you, you know. I can fly, after all.”

His laughter dies down, and he regards you with the softest hint of concern in his eyes before they flicker down to watch as he wrings his wrists together. “Well, let’s make sure it doesn’t come to that at all, okay?” His gaze meets yours once more, and you can see the worry that crinkles between his brows. “I’d rather not see you get hurt at all.”

Your expression softens, and you place a comforting hand on one of his broad shoulders. “I know, wǒ de lòng.” The gentleness of your voice soothes him, and a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. My dragon.

“Your pronunciation has gotten better,” he compliments before reaching out and caressing your cheek.

“I had a pretty good teacher,” you respond with a cheeky smile that he’s quick to mirror.

Your tender moment is broken by a monstrous roar in the distance followed by devastating crashes and screams. Both of you snap your heads towards the source of the sound. Whatever it was, it was big. 

“What did you say we were fighting again!?” you exclaim even as you whip behind him and hook your arms around him, lifting you both into the air. Shockwaves nearly throw you off course as this monster continues its rampage, but it’s nothing you haven’t dealt with before. You inhale deeply before propelling the two of you like an arrow straight through the wind currents that dare to fight your trajectory.

“Demons,” he responds, his voice straining to be heard over the roaring winds. “But it looks like Chīyóu isn't playing around this time.”

“Does he ever?” you groan.

Closing in on your target, you can really see just how ugly this thing is. Gigantic, vaguely humanoid, with decaying skin stretched taut across its emaciated skeleton, it roars into the air before pummeling its scythe-like arms into the ground below. It doesn't seem to care about the smaller demons that flock beneath it, destroying foe and ally alike.

“How did it get to be so massive!?” you shout in disbelief. You'd been unfortunate enough to see Chīyóu's army in the past, but they usually looked more like the infantry below.

“Don’t know, don't care. At least, not until I pummel this thing into the earth!” he replies confidently. “Take care of the small fry, would you? I've got the big one.”

You know better than to protest. He is the stronger out of both of you, and your airborne agility would give you enough of an edge to dodge any stray swings from the big guy while you take care of your foes.

“Okay. I trust you… but come back safe,” you urge before soaring up high enough to launch him at his target. He climbs up the demon's large frame with ease, running up his torso before laying into him with blow after blow straight to the face. You can’t help but smirk as you hear it cry out in pain even as you propel yourself back down towards your smaller enemies.

“Alright… who wants to go first…?” you taunt as energy crackles in your palms.

-----

Not surprisingly, you're done with your fight long before Iron Fist has finished his. You desperately want to help, but you weren't unscathed, panting heavily as you hover nearby. It had taken more out of you than you'd expected; they were far more coordinated than they should have been. Thankfully, your injuries were limited. You were simply exhausted, forced to use your power beyond your normal limits to keep up with each and every demon that launched and swiped at you. 

Iron Fist seemed to be doing fine. It was simply a very tough fight, but it was one he was slowly winning. You felt the energy pulsating off of him as he summoned the blade shards from his fists, and the demon cried out in agony as his punches grew faster, deadlier. It wouldn't be much longer now. Suddenly you hear a loud and sickening crack!, and slowly, stumbling, the demon lets out a final, guttural groan before plummeting to the earth. Iron Fist wears a triumphant grin, and you begin to fly towards him to catch him before he joins the demon's descent.

He lands into you with an “oof!” as you steady him, hugging him tightly with your arms wrapped around his chest. “See? Not a problem at a--!”

But your victory is interrupted by the sudden shockwave caused by the demon's body collapsing to the ground. You're too exhausted to react in time, and it sends both of you hurtling through the air as you let out a startled cry. The force of it knocks you miles away, holding on tight to one another and spinning towards an unknown destination. You begin spiraling towards the ground, trying and failing desperately to stop your momentum, and panic rises in your chest.

“Y/N!? We're gonna crash!”

“I know!” you snap back. “I'm trying!”

You're pretty sure your life is beginning to flash before your eyes as the rocky mountainside gets closer and closer. Frantically, you pour all of your willpower into the energy pooled within you, using whatever you have left and centering it so it coalesces at the soles of your boots. It’s just enough to generate a bit of friction, and finally you find yourself slowing before touching down safely on the ground.

Wide-eyed and shaky, you nearly collapse before Iron Fist catches you and helps you stay upright. Even under his mask you can see the way his brow creases with worry.

“Th-that was… that was close,” you stammer out. “S-sorry.”

Seemingly a little less disoriented, he chuckles. Once he’s sure you can stand on your own, he cradles your face in his hands, and those brown eyes gaze warmly into your own. “Hey, we’re alive. That’s what matters.”

A trembling titter passes through your teeth, and you shut your eyes and lean into his touch. After a long sigh, you nod. In the silence that follows, a soft, distant trickling sound catches your ear, and your eyelids flutter open to find its source. Liè hears it as well, and a knowing smile draws upon his lips.

“So, about that sightseeing you wanted to do…” he begins, and you give him a curious look. He’s up to something, but you have no idea what it could be.

“I don’t think I’m in any state to be sightseeing right now--”

He puts a finger to your lips and you hush immediately, feeling your cheeks warm in response. His hands fall from your face before he suddenly scoops you up into his arms, bringing a startled yelp from you before he begins bounding down the mountain.

“H-hey! What are you--!?”

But as he carries you over the rounded stones and lush foliage towards the base of the mountain, that trickling sound grows louder, and you gasp as the leaves part to reveal a hot spring bathed in the light of the full moon. Even at its edge you can feel the humid warmth of the steam seeping into your weary body.

“Ever bathed in a hot spring before?” he hums, and you don’t miss the way his eyes trail down your body as he holds you.

“No, I can’t say I have,” you respond honestly, feeling a heat born from something other than the nearby steam.

He lowers you to the ground gently before taking a few steps forward with his back facing you. His fingers get to work unwrapping the yellow bandages coiled around his arms, letting them flutter down like ribbons onto the stone beneath you. Next, he unties his mask, discarding it in a similar fashion, and then you hear the clinking of his belts before the thud of leather hits the ground.

“Liè…?” you whisper, not trusting your voice fully as he continues to undress before you. He merely turns his head towards you and smirks, and with a rustling of fabric he stands shirtless before you. Moonlight glistens and illuminates his defined muscles, rippling with every movement he makes, and your breath catches in your throat.

“People don’t typically bathe with their clothes on,” he teases, making it sound like the most obvious explanation in the world for him stripping so sensually in front of you. When you still don’t seem to make any sort of move, he turns to face you. The two of you had never… well, you’ve never even seen him shirtless like this before. You try not to let your gaze linger overlong at his broad chest or travel down too low to see the V of his hip bones disappear beneath his trousers--

The pad of his index finger finds your chin and lifts your head to look at him. “My eyes are up here, yuèliàng,” he chides with a snicker. Though, his own eyes find themselves flickering down to your lips.

“You’re so unfair,” you accuse with a breathy laugh.

“Says the one still fully clothed,” he retorts with a purr as his arm wraps around your waist.

You brace a hand against his bare chest, reveling in the warmth of his skin as your tongue wets your bottom lip. “I didn’t realize it was a race,” you tease. Self-consciousness floods your thoughts at the realization of what was happening, and unwittingly your fingers tense against him. Concern softens his expression, and the hand at your chin caresses your cheek.

“Y/N…?” He smiles tenderly. “Are you nervous?”

Your eyes flicker back up to his. “I’ve just… you and I, we’ve never…” Unable to find the words, your voice trails off, fading into the sounds of the bubbling spring. “What if I’m not…?”

“Not what?” he inquires, searching your eyes for the answer you seem unable to give him. The hand at your waist rubs soothing circles into the small of your back.

It grows more difficult to maintain eye contact, so you find yourself staring instead at where your fingers rest upon his skin. “Not… not good enough? Pretty enough? I don’t know…”

“Wǒ de yuèliàng…” he murmurs softly, shaking his head and embracing you into an almost smothering hug. “Zài wǒ xīnzhōng nǐ shì rúcǐ měilì. Nǐ hěn wánměi.” His breath whispers against your hair as he buries his nose into it. Your Chinese is limited, but you don’t have to understand much of it to know what he’s trying to tell you. Beautiful. Perfect. It wrenches at your heart. You’re misty-eyed when he pulls away, resting his hands on your shoulders. “But if you’re not ready--”

You silence him with your lips on his, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands slide down your sides and rest at your hips, and strong fingers grip you tightly. When you pull away, he regards you with hooded eyes and parted lips.

“I… I’m ready,” you breathe out. “But… do you mind turning around while I undress?”

Liè chuckles but nods wordlessly, pressing a sweet and tender kiss to your forehead. He turns back towards the hot springs, shimmying out of his boots and pants and giving you a tantalizing glimpse of his toned ass before he disappears beneath the spring's waters.

You take a deep breath before divesting yourself of your superhero suit, fumbling a bit with the buckles and zippers. Your hands are trembling with nerves when you hook your thumbs into your panties and drag them down your thighs. If only you could see Liè's face; his skin is flushed, and his eyes are squeezed shut to help him resist the temptation to sneak a peek at you. He's just better at masking his nerves than you are.

Steeling your resolve, you exhale shakily. “Okay, I… you can turn around now.”

The water sloshes with how quickly he moves, and despite the humidity of the hot springs, he grows parched at the sight of you. Your arms and hands drape demurely over your breasts and between your legs, and you look away shyly under the intensity of his stare. The moonlight bathes your skin in its silvery splendor, and the trees behind you seem to almost bend around you and frame you perfectly in their lush foliage. 

“Wow…” he breathes quietly, at a loss for any other words. He steps towards you, making his way to shallower waters as his chest and hips reemerge in a cascade of water droplets, seemingly unperturbed by his own nudity. His cheeks turn a deep pink as he drinks you in. “Nǐ hěn wánměi.” You are perfect. He brings his hands up to cradle your face and stare deeply into your eyes. They're warm, wet from the spring, and the feeling is oddly grounding while droplets trickle down your cheeks. Slowly, your arms fall to your sides. You bat your eyelashes at him with the tiniest of smiles. 

“You're one to talk,” you tease, your gaze flickering back down as your fingertip traces along his collarbone and follows the contours of his pectoral muscles.

The ego boost brings a cheeky grin to his lips, but he doesn't indulge it further. Instead, he brings your faces closer together and kisses you deeply, hungrily, groaning when his hands begin to wander. They tangle in your hair, wrap tightly around your back, grip at your waist… he's determined to feel every inch of you, and quickly the fire within you urges you to do the same to him. A surprised squeak sounds in your throat when he grabs your ass, kneading the plush of your skin in his palm.

“Liè!” you gasp as his lips press at the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, and finally nipping and sucking at the column of your neck. He lifts you by your rear, earning a giggle from you before you wrap your legs around him, and walks you back into the water to envelop you both in its steamy embrace. His arousal rests hard and hot against your stomach, and desire replaces any remaining reservations you had. All you could think about now was him, of his skin on yours, his lips hot and wet on your neck, his broad shoulders beneath your fingertips. 

With the water to help support your weight, he holds you against him with one hand as the other trails back over your ribcage, resting beneath your breast before cupping it and squeezing gently. Breathy moans slip from your lips and grow louder as he leans down and takes the stiff peak into his mouth. His tongue flicks up and down over the sensitive bud.

“Yes, oh…”

He hums against your skin, gazing up at your face with blown pupils. Every expression, every melody you sing because of him, is intoxicating.

“Mm… how did I get so lucky?” he muses while pressing tender kisses in the valley of your breasts. “To have such a beautiful, strong woman in my arms, singing me her praises…” He adjusts his hold on you, sliding you down just a bit and bringing you face to face again. The water laps soothingly against your bare skin. Your eyes flutter closed when the backs of his fingers brush gingerly along your cheekbone.

“I hear being the Immortal Iron Fist helps one's chances,” you giggle, and he scoffs in mock offense. Your smile widens and you press your forehead to his. “But being Liè, my dragon, my…” You choke on your words for a moment, but only a moment.

“My love…” 

You feel your face heat up at your own words, but they were words long coming. “... that's all it takes. All I've ever wanted.”

“Yuèliàng,” he exhales sharply, the term of endearment a reverent hiss upon his lips. Those same lips crash upon yours once more, and your arms wrap eagerly about his neck. His brow furrows, and between kisses he whispers those sweet words. “Wǒ ài nǐ.”

You grip the black hair at the nape of his neck tightly, but not nearly so tight as the hold this man has over your pounding heart. Your mouth slants over his, kissing him deeper, delving your tongue between the seam of his lips. He meets your efforts eagerly, curving over you as your back arches and your chest presses against him. One hand finds the small of your back to draw you impossibly closer. When he pulls away from your devouring kiss, you're both panting for air. 

“Let me make love to you,” he begs breathlessly. His nose nudges yours affectionately and his brow creases. “Please.”

Never in a million years would you say no to that. You kiss him tenderly before nodding softly. “I want you, Liè. All of you.”

He groans and rolls his hips, his evident desire sliding along your heat and drawing a gasp from your lips. You were no virgin, but he was thick, and your mind was long gone with fantasies of how he would feel inside of you. Not that you would have to wait long for those fantasies to become reality, of course; he peppers your face and neck with kisses while he continues to grind against you. His hand reaches down for a handful of your ass, guiding your hips as you join him in the search for that delicious friction. The hot spring water only makes your movements easier, and on more than one occasion he nearly slips right in. When the bulbous head presses up against your clit, you whimper and your thighs tremble, and you can feel yourself growing wetter even without the spring's help.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. He holds you still, and you brace your hands on his shoulders while he begins deliberately guiding the head of his cock up and down your slit. Your hot, slickened folds are too inviting to resist, and slowly, torturously and slowly, he sinks the tip into your heat. You steady your breathing and force yourself to relax the tension in your body at the sudden intrusion. His hips rock into yours, finding it hard to breathe himself as he stretches you out inch by inch.

“Liè, oh gods--” you hiss before your jaw goes slack with a moan. He’s sheathed himself in you completely, and you've never felt quite so full. He stills inside you instantly as worry etches his features.

“Are… are you okay?” he stammers out, tenderly cupping your cheek. It’s obviously difficult for him to keep himself from rutting into you like a wild animal, and you feel his cock twitch impatiently while your walls clench around him.

“I-I’m fine,” you breathe out. “You're just, um… shit… you're so big…”

His concern fades instantly and is replaced with a cocky grin much more becoming of his handsome face. A groan of approval growls in his throat and he’s grinding into you again, the water splashing gently with the movement, angling his cock back and forth with shallow thrusts.

“Is that so…?” he muses coyly. His thumb traces your bottom lip. “I hope that won’t be an issue.”

You keen as every move he makes leaves his cock dragging languidly back and forth against that perfect spot. “N-no, I--”

He interrupts you by taking your lip between his teeth and tugging on it softly. A staggered breath whispers from you.

“Good,” he purrs. He sucks on your bottom lip before darting his tongue out, inviting you to part your lips and let him in. A devouring groan hums and vibrates from him into the kiss. Your tongues dance sensually, feverishly, and he starts thrusting into you with renewed vigor. Shutting your eyes tight, you tangle your fingers in his short black hair, and your high pitched whimpers pour into the kiss.

It's easy to forget the battle you had fought not even an hour ago. It certainly doesn't feel like he was fighting for his life against a demon twenty times his size. His seemingly endless stamina ripples through bulging muscles to help him piston in and out of you. His movements favor precision over speed, deliberately drawing back and making sure you feel every inch before he slams back into you.

You're so lost in pleasure, but when he pulls away and stares into your eyes your breath hitches in your throat. There's so much adoration in those brown eyes, so much love and affection reserved for you and you alone. Your hands draw back to cup his face gingerly while he bounces you up and down.

“Liè…” you breathe softly. He turns his head and presses a kiss to your palm.

Half-lidded eyes blink slowly, lovingly at you. “You feel perfect,” he praises. 

“Mm…” you moan with a dreamy smile, “More, Liè, please.”

A low chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Can you hover in the water?”

You blink curiously at him. “I… yes, of course, but--”

“Just do it, trust me,” he states with a coy smirk. 

Your hands fall from his face to rest at your sides, and it takes a surprising amount of concentration to summon the energy to fly, even if you're just hovering in place. Whether it's due to exhaustion from the earlier battle or simply that he's fucking you so well… it's hard to say. After a few moments, he feels your weight lifting from his firm hold. His thrusts pause, and he huffs out a laugh when you whine at the loss of stimulation. 

“Keep your legs up like that. Hold onto my shoulders if you need to. Otherwise,” he pauses, cocking his head to the side and flashing you a cheeky smile, “...just remember that you asked for this, yuèliàng.”

You barely have time to ponder what he means by that before both of his hands grip you by the waist and his hips slam into yours. A soundless scream leaves your jaw agape as he pours every bit of his strength into his thrusts. Despite the roughness of it, you can feel the way your cunt squeezes him tighter, sucking him in every time his cock drags back out. Skin slaps against skin, and it takes every last bit of concentration and willpower you have to keep yourself aloft. The hot spring's waters splash and spray about with the frantic pace he sets, disturbing the peace of the night with the cacophonous symphony of your lovemaking. 

Now that he doesn't have to hold you up himself, one hand rests on your stomach as his thumb seeks out your clit. A shock of pleasure courses through your body that leaves your toes curling. Aided by your slick and the warm water, the digit glides effortlessly in circles, and soon he's timing it perfectly with every deep thrust of his length. You find your voice again even if all you can muster are broken moans. 

“F-f-hah-uh-ugh-uck!” you babble, each stammer coinciding with the hammering of his cock deep within you. It chisels away at all sense, leaving you raw and vulnerable but hotter and hotter. It burns and licks as the fires of pleasure spark brighter and more intense. Nails dig into his shoulders to keep you from wobbling mid-air.

“Shit,” he curses, hissing in pleasured pain at the feeling. “Gǎnjué zhēn dì nàme hǎo ma?” Does it really feel that good? His breathy teasing is accompanied by a confident smile even as he grits his teeth with the effort of fucking you. 

His tone tells you all you need to know even if you don't recognize all the words. The low, possessive growl in his voice leaves you a whimpering mess, and you feel yourself creeping closer and closer to the precipice.

“Liè, oh, f-fuck--!” you gasp. “Right there, yes!”

An airy chortle hums in his chest between grunts. “Nǐ zhēnměi.” He takes your breast in his palm before tweaking the bud between his fingertips, and he leans in to kiss and suck at your neck. The sensations overwhelm you as your moans and whimpers grow higher and higher in pitch. His movements are messy, more instinctive than deliberate, as he gets closer to his own release.

“Yes, yes, oh, yes--!”

He can’t help himself from biting down at the sensitive spot he’s discovered at the crook of your neck, and it has you seeing stars. You send him into a frenzy with your sweet song, a siren calling him and begging him to ravage you utterly and completely. And gods, does it feel better than anything you’ve ever felt. Your body feels like it’s floating even beyond the literal sense of your powers, cresting higher and higher and--

“Cum for me, yuèliàng.” His voice is right there at your ear, a low, seductive growl, and the cord within you finally snaps.

“Liè!” you scream, your body convulsing in a mind-shattering orgasm. His thrusts falter as he feels you clamp down and flutter around his cock. A broken groan cracks in his throat and he doubles his efforts, pistoning into you relentlessly as you cry and babble out moans from the overstimulation.

“F… Fuck, Y/N, I--shit!” He quickly pulls out of you before taking himself in hand, cursing and exhaling guttural moans as he strokes himself feverishly beneath the water’s surface. He maintains eye contact with you the entire time, drinking in your half-lidded expression. With a final string of huffs and grunts he cums with a cry of your name, emptying himself into the spring. His forehead falls against yours, out of breath, pulling you into his arms as the two of you come down from your high.

You slump back down into the water and allow yourself the comfort of his embrace. He starts pressing slow, lazy kisses to your lips, your cheeks, the tip of your nose, drawing giggles from you that bring a goofy smile to his face. The peace of the night returns, and the only sounds around you are the bubbling of the spring and the soft, chirping chorus of insects and amphibians about. Your heart feels full, warm, and your eyes find his as you gaze at him reverently.

“I love you,” you whisper.

His doe eyes soften before he gives you a deeper, more insistent kiss. “I love you too.”

[astarionancuntnin]

request for: @ladycroft5245

Public Display of Attention

summary: his consort - his beautiful, too kind for her own good - forever young lover. she was his, and his only, and he believed it was long overdue to make that statement clear among the rest of their group. after tonight, the only name spiling from her luscious lips would be his.

pairing: ascended astarion x reader!tav

rating: E

word count: 4.6k

cw: 18+. astarion POV, late act 3 setting (so potential spoilers), smut, big angst, depiction of racing thoughts due to low self-esteem/jealousy, very possessive behaviour and sex, public sex/exhibisionism/slight voyeurism, oral (f!receiving), hold the moan, mentions of pregnancy, breeding kink, mating press, p in v, blood/vampire bites, creampie.

a/n: songs inspo for this one were taste and who were you with last night by ari abdul, if you wanna get an idea of the vibe as i was writing this up

read on ao3

my masterlist

or keep reading down below~

It was in the little things that he noticed it the most. How she was always willing to give a helping hand to anyone who asked — and even those who didn’t, quite honestly. Gods, how it aggravated him in the worst ways. Her kindness was her most admirable trait, yet also her biggest weakness.

Then again, that's how he truly fell for her in the first place.

How she was simply too pure for her own good, and it was most infuriating at times; constantly giving people the benefit of the doubt, believing everyone was inherently good, desiring to befriend everyone and truly believing everyone had a good reason to act the way they did. As if she refused to see the corruption of this world and its people, of him, of all people.

Maybe that's also why she opened her heart to him in the first place. Maybe it had nothing to do with his charms, and although he believed he had successfully and very easily seduced her for his own protection, he kept thinking she would slip away from his grasp at any moment. 

The doubts kept growing as one night he spied on her as she indulged Wyll for a dance. Well, not as much spying as they did it right next to the campfire, anyone could see them. Then again, that might be what bothered him so much. 

How carefree they were to dance the night away, visible to all and with no shame whatsoever. How he avoided being publicly seen with her, reserving their time together in the privacy of his tent. How the voice in his head screamed, “You're wasting her time. She deserves happiness with someone whole, someone who can make her as happy as she is with Wyll. You could only bring her misery. You don't deserve her.”

And how hard he had tried time and time again to push those thoughts away, to convince himself that she did choose him, that he deserved her love, no matter how novel the concept was to him.

But when he witnessed Wyll leaning in closer, his lips reaching for hers, Astarion turned away, closing the flap of his tent. He couldn't bear to stare much longer, as his heart shattered at the thought that the moments he spent with her were but ephemeral. Gone in an instant, a bittersweet memory, and how foolish of him to believe he could have had a chance at love when he was but the shell of a man. His fear of losing her turned to resentment against not only himself, but also against their companion for experiencing what he could only dream of. 

Of course, he thought, how could I be such a fool to believe what we had could ever last?

But that night, before he could enter his reverie, she joined him in his bed. Without a single word, she snuggled up close to him and fell asleep in his arms, bringing cosiness to his bedroll with her hot skin warmed up by the alcohol flowing through her veins, and the soft beating of her heart calming his thoughts as he listened along.

In the morning, he listened in on her discussion with Wyll to learn she had turned him down in favour of Astarion. 

He couldn't begin to comprehend what had happened.

She had the opportunity to be with someone better, and yet she chose him, over and over again.

Many weeks later, when she spent her entire evening gallivanting at Gale’s side of the room at the Elfsong as he showed her tricks of the weave, standing close to her — too close — and she smiled, and laughed, and held his shoulder, and her eyes sparkled with amazement at the magic before her, it's as if everything she had ever done to prove her love became meaningless. 

He could practically hear what she was saying: Gale, you’re so talented, please, can you show me more? Can I spend more time with you? Oh Gale, how I love when you teach me the magic of the weave, when you touch me, Gods Gale, what I wouldn’t do to feel you inside me, fuck me, oh Gale—

The mere thought of someone else laying their hands on her in any way imaginable sent him down a spiral of dark thoughts. Since defeating Cazador, he only became more selfish, perhaps he would be the most selfish man she would ever know, but he was the only man she should want. After two hundred years of torment, of pure shit, he deserved better. Everything and anything he wanted, he would have.

In the past he couldn’t find it within him to keep her to himself, but now, now that he was all powerful, now that the world was his to claim, it wasn't something he would allow anymore. 

No.

This time, he wouldn’t sit by idly, waiting to rot and let those thoughts get the best of him.

He approached them, trying to appear nonchalant despite the seething fury boiling within him.

“My treasure,” he purred in her ear, interrupting Gale through yet another rambling of his. “May I have a word?” She turned her head around, caught off by his sudden presence behind her, with one hand on her waist, and the other on her shoulder, gripping firmly. When he noticed the uncertainty on her face, he answered her unspoken question. “I'm afraid this is of the utmost importance; it really cannot wait.”

He gave a quick glance at Gale to let the wizard know there was no stopping him from stealing away the woman between them. 

“Go on,” Gale said, when their leader remained silent. “We can pick up where we left off once our mighty Vampire Ascendant is done indulging in your presence, whether that be tonight or tomorrow.”

She gave him a sad smile and he nodded with a smile of his own, as she tried to apologise for cutting their time short, and it only added onto Astarion's irritation, who pulled her out of their shared room, and away from prying ears. 

“What’s wrong?” The worry in those soft, brand new crimson eyes of hers. 

Well, truth be told, he didn’t have an answer. He didn’t plan this far ahead, he just wanted to get her away from Gale as fast as possible. 

“Oh, how bothersome,” he clicked his tongue. “It seems to have slipped my mind completely.”

“Didn’t you say it was of the utmost importance?” she sighed, pouting.

“I truly apologise for cutting your time short with the wizard, but now that I have you here with me, I might as well keep you close. You do need to feed, don’t you, little love?” 

Her eyes wandered; this form was still new to her, she didn’t know yet when or even how to tell if she needed to feed. It was no bother though, he would teach her everything there was to know about it. He would be there for her, be the master he couldn’t have when he was in the same situation centuries ago.

She turned her head aside towards their room, probably thinking about Gale and how she left him hanging. Ugh, why did she have to care so much about the others?

“Ugh,” he sighed desperately. “The wizard will still be there when we're done, dear.”

When she turned back to him, she noticed his sneer in Gale’s direction and that’s all she needed to connect the dots. 

“Astarion…” She took a hold of his hand and laid it upon her chest, right over her undead, unbeating heart. His doing. “I promise you there is nothing between Gale and I, or anyone else in our group for that matter. Even Halsin made advances, and — although I am extremely flattered — I’m really not interested. You’re the only one for me.”

Her softness caught him off guard and his face softened temporarily before taking back its haughty state, rolling his eyes. 

“Obviously, I know that.” He lifted her chin with his free hand, the other laying over her waist, pulling her closer as he whispered over her, “You’ll be mine forever, after all.”

“Until the end of times,” she whispered back.

There it was, that smile she kept for him only, with her features softened, and yet, he knew that if she still had a pulse, it would be beating out of her chest.

He loved the way her eyes almost closed when he drew her in for a kiss, lips colliding in a passionate embrace. She let herself get lost in it, giving him control over this dance he knew all too well, but a dance he now took pleasure in, with her only.

His most beloved spawn.

His precious consort.

It was the first time in two hundred years he had something for himself, someone to claim as his, and he wanted to show her just how loved she would be with him, to prove to her she didn’t need to seek anyone else’s attention when she had him all to herself. She needed but to ask; anything she desired, he would give her.

But tonight, he would make that decision for her, and he would keep her all to himself.

Pulling back only slightly, leaving her wanting more, he murmured against her lips, “Now, can I interest you in joining me in bed?” 

“But I’m not tired,” she sulked. “And Gale was going to show me more tricks with the weave, and—”

“How about I show you what tricks I can do, hm?” He cut her off softly, bringing her attention back to him. He swore, if she mentions the damned wizard once more—

“What kind of tricks are we talking about exactly? Because I wouldn’t call pickpocketing the local bard a trick.”

He smiled at the memory, “I’m afraid you’ll have to trust me on this one, pet. But I can assure you, you will be exhausted by the time I’m done with you.”

It was so easy to reel her in with just but a few words. By now, he knew the telltale signs that he had caught her interest; a few quick looks as she was processing the possibilities of what this would entail, those same eyes shining as they fluttered shut, and the biting of her lip followed by her playful smile. 

“Fine.”

She simply couldn’t resist his offers. 

She lifted her chin with eagerness to meet his salacious look, and he got the impression she did so to appear taller, mightier than she really was. 

“As long as it doesn’t involve getting people hurt.”

Again, with the others’ interest at heart before her own. He wanted to roll his eyes at her request, but the only thought crossing his mind as he looked at the soft frown she was forcing along with her crossed arms was how utterly adorable she was, and how delicious the sight of her would be with that frown upside down as she panted underneath him, begging for mercy, with his name spilling from her mouth like a prayer.

The thought alone made his trousers feel much, much tighter.

Before the thoughts could overpower him, he answered her request, raising his hand. “I promise only pure, carnal pleasure for the parties involved.” 

She gave him a side look with her eyes squinted, and he just took her hand, raising it to his lips before kissing it with a smirk as a response. 

“Just follow me, little love, and I’ll show you exactly what I mean.”

And she did just as she was told, as she followed him back inside the room shared amongst the rest of their friends, to his bed. Most of their companions were already fast asleep, with some others quietly preparing for bed. Gale was among the latter, and to Astarion's demise, his bed was right next to his, with barely a partition separating their respective side of the room.

The faint light cast from Gale’s side depicted his shadow, and when Astarion noticed him reading in bed, he thought that maybe he could take advantage of their bed placement, if only for tonight.

He drew his own partition, hiding them from the rest of the room, before walking back to his consort.

“Now,” he purrs. “For this little trick of mine, I will need your full cooperation. Can I trust you to follow my every command?”

She nodded eagerly, her eyes fixated on his.

“Whatever I do, you must remain silent. Understood?”

Another nod. 

His good, little, obedient pet. How he loved that about her.

He walked behind her, leaning his head in the crook of her neck, whispering. “Good girl.”

Slowly, he reached for the lace in her back, untying her dress until it came loose. Her chest rose with anticipation, as he drew his fingers up at her front, lightly brushing his fingers against the light fabric covering her breasts. Hooking his fingers into the crown of her dress, he pulled her top down, releasing her breasts to the crispy air of their room. A warm, deep breath he released against her neck sent shivers down her spine, and she just closed her eyes as she let her head fall back onto his shoulder with a sigh, letting him work her like putty in his hands.

Gods, how he adored that she didn't bother wearing a bra out of combat. It made everything so much easier when it came to indulging his deepest desires: a light brush against the fabric here and there, just to see her nipples harden under his touch, a daring squeeze, sometimes, to feel the fullness of her chest, but his favourite was this dress of hers, and how easy it was to pull down to indulge in a quick nibble.

Maybe that’s also why he was reluctant to her being so damned touchy with the rest of their group, how close she allowed them to be to her precious body. His possession.

It’s okay, he thought to himself, no one will question my ownership after tonight.

Her dress carelessly fell to the floor when he pushed the sleeves down to reveal her everlastingly beautiful body. He pressed his body against her back, rubbing his growing bulge against her ass as he massaged her breast with one hand, while the other roamed south of her navel. A light pinch of her nipple while he reached her clit had her whimper once, potentially loud enough to already give the wizard next door an idea of what they were up to.

“Nuh uh, what did I say? Not a sound, darling.”

“S– sorry…” Her breathing was already heavy with lust.

She could try to keep quiet, but he would do anything in his power to make her crumble beneath his fingers, those same fingers that didn’t waste a second more dipping between her folds, earning another soft moan out of her.

“Already so wet for me, pet.”

He left a trail of wet kisses from her shoulder to her neck, where he licked all the way up to her ear, breathing hot air against her cool skin, while his hands kept working her up.

“Astarion…”

“My sweet, sweet thing, what did we say about keeping quiet, hm?” He dipped two fingers inside of her, and her hand flew to her mouth as she yelped in surprise. “Unless that’s what you really want? To let everyone know who owns you, body and soul? Or maybe you just want poor Gale to know what he’s missing out on?”

She only moaned louder, her palm serving no purpose as her noises escaped it, while he increased the pace of his fingers in and out of her. The lewd wet noises coming from her pussy were loud enough to be heard by their neighbour, he thought, as the shadow before them had put its book aside.

“My, my, what a depraved little thing you are, wanting to put on a show for our friends.” He pushed another finger into her and a soft cry escaped her. “You drive a hard bargain; it would be fun, wouldn’t it?” She kept whimpering and Astarion chuckled softly behind her. "We shouldn't keep them waiting in that case, should we?”

In a swift move, Astarion removed her panties, the only piece of clothing she had left, before picking her up to lay her on his bed and climbing on top of her.

Before them, Gale’s shade was seemingly depicting a far more pleasing activity than reading, with one hand visibly stroking himself and his arm resting under his head. 

“Well, well, would you look at that?” He tilted her head aside to make her watch his shadow through the partition. “Seems like our friendly wizard is having some fun of his own, wouldn’t you agree?”

Before she could answer, he left a trail of kisses down her belly, all the way to her delicious cunt that laid before him like a meal, ready for him to devour. He finally tasted her nectar with one languid stroke of his tongue from her entrance up to her clit. Her head fell back into the soft pillow, lifting the side of it to bite down as she held back a moan.

“Astarion…” She breathed heavily, “Gale is right there—”

“And? Look at him.” She turned her head aside, panting as she observed the silhouette dancing. “Clearly the man is enjoying himself, I'm sure it would torture him if we stopped now, and I did promise only pleasure for all the parties involved.” He licked his lips with a salacious smile. “I am nothing but a man of my word.” With one last look up at his lover, he dived back in, his tongue entering her at long last.

She tasted like the sun after centuries of darkness; like a springtime breeze that carried the promise of rebirth; like life, the one thing he had taken from her. Just as his heart beat anew, hers had stopped for eternity, and he liked to think that his heart would beat for them both from the moment he had made her his. Forever grateful for giving him everything.

Among the feverish moans of his beloved consort beneath him, a deep moan from across the room had Astarion lifting his head and turning it aside, where he noticed Gale’s shade now covering his own mouth in a poor attempt to hush his whimpers. Pathetic, he thought. Reduced to pleasuring himself from the pleasure of others. 

But he didn’t mind it tonight. No, everything was going according to his plan, and he would seize every chance to state his claim over her, that she belonged to him and him alone, and that the only reason Gale had the opportunity to even hear her is because Astarion allowed it. No one else.

By now, his face was covered in her juices, and he would gladly drown between her legs if it meant making her scream from the top of her lungs and letting Gale know how good she’s getting fucked, and how this poor excuse of a wizard would never even come close to experience this. Astarion’s cock only got harder to the idea of showing off his beloved — his greatest possession — with mere sounds; making her scream with the knowledge that someone was listening in, and someone got off to the sounds he was getting out of her.

His attention moved away from her entrance and over the side of her thighs, where he kissed her before biting down on her soft flesh.

Her hands flew to her mouth once again, trying to suppress her cries as they grew louder, but Astarion would have none of that. 

He paused his feast to reach for her wrists, pulling them down near her waist and pinning them to her sides, “Don’t be shy now, my treasure. Let him hear what he can only dream of having.”

With her blood now covering his lips, he moved back to her most sensitive area, where his tongue teased relentlessly and when he felt her squirming under her, he knew she was already close. He just had to push her in the right direction.

Pressing his tongue flat against her clit and swiping up and down, rubbing his taste buds over and over again where he knew she loved the most was all she needed. When she came, he plunged back inside her to drink in everything she had to offer, as her body convulsed from the waves of her orgasm. She couldn’t hold back the screams as Astarion continued to stimulate her, almost crying as the sensation became too much, but he knew her body now, better than anyone else, and he knew how to play with it to make the pleasure last.

He pulled back to admire the sight before him, as she laid eyes fluttering, dazed from the pleasure, trying to catch back her breath — one that she didn’t even need anymore. 

Little did she know he was far from done, as he did a quick glance towards Gale’s shadow to notice how his back now arched, lost to the feeling of his own hand as he sped up his pace. Surely the wizard could indulge them a bit longer.

He removed all his clothes, leaving no barriers between his lover and himself anymore, finally freeing the throbbing erection that begged for release in his trousers before he towered over her.

He hooked her legs with his, locking her in place as he positioned himself against her entrance, pausing with the head of his cock poking just against her pussy.

Their eyes met, half-lidded and full of lust. “You’ve been so good to me, little love. I believe you deserve a little treat, don’t you think?”

Her eyes flickered open, and she nodded with her mouth kept open as she breathed hard.

“Come on, you know the magic words,” he taunted.

“P– Please.”

“Please who?” He purred in her ear.

“Astarion! Please, Astarion, please.”

Always so good, so compliant for him. He would give her everything he didn’t have, he would make her his Lady, she could have the world if she only asked him, but for now, a few sips of his ascended blood to quench her thirst would suffice.

He offered his arm to her, and she held it carefully, breathing hard over the visible veins popping out before biting down to taste his delectable crimson.

As his consort, any amount of blood from him wouldn’t break their bond — she would forever be his until he decided otherwise — but he needed to be at the top of his game for this. She drank just enough to get her strength back before he pulled away, leaving her wanting for more.

The sight of her pupils dilated, her tiny fangs glistening from his blood dripping down her chin, it awakened something primal in him. He needed to fuck her, to taste her, now.

With a growl, he thrust his hips into her in one swing, and at the same time, his fangs dived right into her neck, where they had been a few nights ago when she joined him in eternity. He sipped, and gulped, tasting her blood as it was now mixed with his. How exquisite she was, how he would never tire of this, of her, of their lifeblood forever linked.

His ownership over her was clear now, and he felt oh so foolish for believing that Gale of all people stood a chance with her. No — she was completely and utterly his, mind, body, and soul.

His hips swung with languid strokes as he picked his rhythm, feeling her walls tighten around his length with each thrust. Her hands flew to his back, scratching near his scars — but not for long. Before she could do any real damage, he grabbed her wrists, pinning her down in place to focus on the real task at hand: making everyone know who she belonged to.

His fangs left her neck to find her lips, their blood mixing as their tongues entered each other's mouth, and a particularly well placed swing of his hips had her breaking the kiss, as she cried out his name.

“Gods, my name sounds divine coming from your lips, my love. Say it again.”

And she obeyed.

“Louder,” he growled, pouding deeper into her.

Again.

“You’re mine.”

And again.

“Mine. Mine.”

“Yours,” she panted. “Only yours, forever yours.”

“That's right, forever and ever after. If our lives end in this timeline, I will find you in the next one and make you mine all. over. again.” He plunged roughly into her with each of his last words, his hips slapping loudly against her with the sound of their mixed fluids. “Now, be a good girl and come around my cock, darling. Come as hard and as loud as you can, understand?”

He fastened his pace, ramming restlessly into her as his fangs dived into the other side of her neck. He bit without even drinking, biting her everywhere he hadn’t before, leaving his trace on her in ways others could never. 

The bed was a bloody mess; to anyone else she might’ve looked like a butchered corpse, but to the vampire ascendant, she was the most breathtaking sight he had ever seen.

When she came, it was with an otherworldly scream; one that could most certainly wake the dead. Her mind must’ve shattered as she convulsed beneath Astarion, completely losing control of herself. 

She was so warm now that she had drank from him, his blood running into her veins, his seed inside her womb. As her walls tightened against him and Astarion neared his own collapse, he only imagined how delightful she would look, belly swollen with his child after shooting loads after loads into her. What better way to tell the whole world he was the one to share her bed than to make her pregnant with his seed? As a spawn, this could’ve never been possible even in his wildest dreams, but as the Vampire Ascendant, it was a door that was potentially open to him once again. He just had to dare to believe. 

With those thoughts racing, Astarion came roaring, stilling inside of her as he unloaded himself, a part of him hoping he could spy over a small bump over her belly by the time they were done with their quest against the absolute. He came, and came, until she was so full of him that his come was spilling out of her onto the bed sheets, and yet, he remained inside of her. If he could, he would keep her chained to his bed and spend his days breeding her relentlessly until she was carrying his offspring. The thought alone made his cock twitch in anticipation.

With silence reigning once again over their shared room, Astarion looked back to Gale’s shadow to see a hint of his chest heaving. Whether he came or not, he couldn’t care less, this little demonstration was over.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself, wizard,” He shouted. “This was the first and last time you would hear my lover's cries of pleasure. Better have made that count.”

Not a word from the partition, but the shadow clumsily hid under its bed sheets before blowing away the light of the candle that betrayed him.

A devilish smirk now appeared on Astarions lips, as he turned his attention back to his consort, bloody, exhausted, and utterly ruined. Beautiful. 

Mine.

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated <3

tag list (comment or message me if you want to be added!): @grimistheangerinmystares @silverfangmarks @roguishcat @nyx-knox @anacdoce @jwera @annnagennnie @angeldarkness95 @marlowethebard @hellethil @frankie-mercury @ariajc79 @ladycroft5245 @lets-just-daydream

requests are OPEN!

[imsryyimlate]

trafalgar law x reader that matches his intellectual freak. he gets giddy bc she listens to his ramblings and vice versa🥹specifically an anthropologist or like archeologist nerd reader! thank u🫶🏻

yes! law needs someone to match his inner, smart, depressed soul ❤️ btw it was years since i took anthropology so i had to do some internet digging to refresh my memory and write this 😂

— pairing: law x anthropologist!reader

one day on the polar tang, you settled into a corner of the mess hall, a hot cup of tea next to you accompanied by a messy stack of books and folders. law wasn’t normally one to seek out conversation, but when he saw a title on the spine of one of your books, he couldn’t help but approach you and ask.

“interested in medicine?” he asked nonchalantly.

not looking up from the textbook you replied, “not medicine itself, but medical procedures.”

“enlighten me.” law challenged, standing in front of the table.

looking up from your texts, you rested your elbow on the table and rested the side of your head on your open palm. “well, this text says,” you replied, flipping the book in front of you, “that way back when, humans would sharpen rocks to create scalpels from the grand line waters because they’re ‘blessed’. a surgical knife with these ‘blessed properties’ supposedly caused successful procedures, not the skill of the doctor or surgeon alone.”

“so you’re saying that the environment was the cause of a person not dying?”

you nodded enthusiastically. “yes.”

“what about now?” he asked. “as in, with current medical technology?”

“well, you’re the doctor. you tell me.” you smiled. “do you think your scalpels and medical tools are blessed?”

law scoffed, pulled the chair back in front of the table, and turned it around so he could sit on it backward, resting his forearms on the backrest.

“i wouldn’t say blessed,” he started, “but i do so happen to be blessed with the skills of being an actual doctor.”

“well then, dr. trafalgar,” you smirked, “enlighten me.”

law raised an eyebrow. “on what?”

“how you can successfully manage surgeries without a blessed scalpel.”

and that invitation was all he needed.

“first of all, how well a scalpel works has nothing to do with superstition but instead with what it’s made of. dull scalpels can cause more damage than good. surgical steel is ideal because it stays sharp.” he started.

“so you’re saying the guys who sharpened the rocks were lucky?” you smirked.

“yes…in a way.” he admitted. “but, were their tools sanitized? that alone can cause infection.”

“of course they did their best to clean them,” you defended. “but these humans had limited resources so mistakes are bound to happen—unintentionally, doctor.” you quickly added.

law blinked and slowly nodded his head. the way you countered his points were seamless. he was finding himself dangerously close to liking this conversation.

“yes, but advancements in what tools are made of make surgery easier and safer. without technique, any tool is useless.” he scooted closer to the table. “may i?” he asked, motioning to the books.

“proceed.” you chuckled.

“if you really want to look into this seriously, i’ll find you a book that doesn’t revolve around superstitions…”

and just like that, hours slipped away and law found himself not only grateful, but enjoying a conversation without someone other than himself.

[fanged-fanfics]

hi Fang, please can i ask a Monkey D Luffy x strawhat male!reader who is like Black☆Star from Soul Eater ? He is loud, stubborn, and arrogant but endearing (he sees himself as a star and wants to surpass even God). He loves being the center of attention and has no sense of discretion, even during infiltration missions. He is an extremely skilled ninja, loyal, and deeply cares about his loved ones he's willing to do anything for them

☆ Reaching For the Stars — Luffy x Male Reader HCs ☆

Genre: Fluff || he/him pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Maybe not everyone could see why you became a part of the crew, but Luffy saw potential in you immediately. Reaching for your dreams was very important to him, and though yours were bigger than most, your sheer passion and loyalty was what made him convinced you'd be an amazing pirate on his crew

ᯓᡣ𐭩 It was a bit of trial and error to figure out what your position would be, especially when he had to think it over after your first infiltration mission when terribly sideways. Seeing your skills when it came to things like stealth, he decided to employ you as a sort of secret wildcard

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Luffy never seemed deterred by your big ambitions and boisterous personality, if anything it drew him to you more. With Luffy constantly encouraging you, you two quickly became a chaotic duo that the other Straw Hats had to keep their eyes on

ᯓᡣ𐭩 A major factor Luffy appreciated in you was your ability to put your whole heart into anything you did. When it came down to it, you were a brave pirate who fought for what you love and who you cared for. Luffy could relate to that greatly, and always cheered you on when you got hyped up

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Luffy also would help remind you to take things easy when needed. Sometimes what you really need is to take a deep breath and enjoy what you have, rather than focusing on what you could be. Live it up, have some good food, let loose! To have a dream is to live for it, not feel weighed down by it

ᯓᡣ𐭩 The captain was always willing to help you wind down, and reminded you to take care of yourself too. He made sure to always set aside food for you, have you tag along in whatever gun was planned, and even checking in on you regularly

ᯓᡣ𐭩 With the way you two complemented each other so well, it was no wonder you both seemed to understand each other. You could practically guess what the other was thinking at any given time, which could be for both the better and the chaotic

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Luffy promised from the moment he met you that he would help you achieve your dreams, no matter what it would take to get there. Sure, you were aiming high, but so was he. And if he could become the Pirate King, then you should be able to dream as big as you want. He'd be by your side at every step

[naturaldreamer]

hiiii can i, perhaps, request nightmare again? you wrote him so well last time that i'm still thinking about it slfjfkffj i've read it about 50 times

Hehehe of course~! I'm so sorry for the wait! Also, thank you! I'm happy that you enjoyed the last request. ♥♥♥♥

~

Don’t imagine sitting right beside him as he addresses his men, who are all sitting on either side of a long table, while Nightmare sits at the end.

You do your best to pay attention, but his hand on your thigh prevents you from listening to his words. It’s also growing harder to keep your face from becoming hot. 

Don’t imagine him squeezing your skin when you attempt to move his hand, his claws slightly digging into your flesh.

A warning to not do that again.

Don’t imagine Nightmare’s hand creeping upward in a teasing manner before slightly going back down. With every movement you make to try to get comfortable, his hand edges upward, causing you to sit still as much as possible.

You listen to the rest of his speech before Nightmare dismisses his men. Don’t imagine the knowing smirk on Killer’s face as he winks at you before everyone leaves.

There’s silence and tension in the room before you feel tentacles wrap around you and drag you toward Nightmare. 

Don’t imagine him setting you on his lap, chest to chest, as he wraps his one arm around your waist and his other hand cradling the back of your neck to prevent you from moving.

A low growl escapes him as he speaks to you in his low velvety voice of his, the kind that makes you shiver from hearing it.

“Don’t expect to sleep early tonight, Pet.”

Before you can utter a word, Nightmare leans forward and presses his teeth to your lips, silencing any protest that you might have had.

Don’t imagine the sounds that come out of that room that would make any monster envious of the two behind that door.

[yayasvalveplay]

TFA au where Autobots and Decpeticons have been separate societies long enough that certain things have been forgotten, particularly that while warframes only have breasts while carrying and nursing, civilian frames have them all the time. Cue a Decepticon catching an Autobot with their tits out and deeply misunderstanding what's going on.

"Autobot, you are pregnant! Why did you not tell any of us." Optimus looked up at the Decepticons in the wash room. He was minding his own business washing himself when others came in to wash as well. Yes he was use to public showers in the academy everyone cleaning themself top to bottom inside and out. he has seen many spikes and valves, even energon pouches. His energon pouches were on the larger side. Perhaps would be considered small to a war frame, but to his small civilian frame they were huge. He was cleaning under them when the Decepticons walked in on him, and paused, before growing panicked.

"I'm not?" He said it as a question, because really he was confused on their question, why did they assume he was sparked? "Oh No poor Autobot doesn't know what his frame is doing, quickly we must get him to a medic." Then he was being grabbed and rushed out of the washrag, soap very much still on his plating and the underside of his pouches. He clung to his wash rag sill dripping wet with solvent, it running down the Decepticons back as they desperately made their way to the medbay. ____

"He's not sparked." Ratchet hit the helms of the Decepticons that had brought him in. "But he has energon pouches, and they look full." "Slagging- That's his normal pouch size, everyone has different pouch sizes." "No we don't, unless we are sparked." and as if to demonstrate the Decepticon clicked back his chassis to reveal a very flat chassis, Then the other two followed. "See they are not filled with energon, because we are not sparked. So how long has this autobot been pregnant for."

"Get out each of you, obviously this isn't getting through those thick processors of yours."

The Decepticons left with a pout. Both Medic and Prime exchanged glances before chuckling at the Decepticons obvious anatomy.

-------

"THE LITTLE PRIME IS WHAT"

Oh no who the slag told Megatron the false information!?

[joshfutturman]

"you have me, you always have"

oneshot (request) - you and clapton have been in a 'will they won't they' type relationship for years, you're best friends - but is that all you want? (2.3k words) pairing - clapton davis (detention) + reader (gender neutral) tags: making out / kissing, moans (oops :3), feelings realisation, will they won't they, suggestive scenes, no use of y/n, vague alcohol mention, cursing

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

clapton. davis. what could you say about clapton davis? you had been best friends for as long as you could remember. it was always just easy with him. you never had to try too hard or try to be funny - he just got you, and you got him.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

notes: this was SO much fun!!! thank you so so much for the request @rhilove1234 ₍՞◌′ᵕ‵◌₎♡ - you're officially the first request of this account! i hope this was alright for you ٩( ´◡` )

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

clapton. davis. what could you say about clapton davis? you had been best friends for as long as you could remember. it was always just easy with him. you never had to try too hard or try to be funny - he just got you, and you got him.

it was actually kind of poetically perfect that you two had applied to the same college together and had been accepted, a miracle too. clapton had the lowest gpa you'd ever heard of, but with his interest in music and the passion he clearly had for the history behind it - the college took kindly to that. you wondered if he offered to create a mix-tape for the assessors. there must have been some sort of bribe involved.

there was a time when he'd told you of his fear of the future, how he'd rather stay in the present. you remember this moment vividly, the two of you sat on your front lawn, stars sprawling above you as the world grew quiet. clapton nervously fidgeted with a blade of grass and you watched on. "the present is good, what's so wrong with wanting to stay here?" he spoke quietly, as though he knew that he didn't really believe what he was saying.

"well, yeah, the present is pretty cool," you smiled, nudging his shoulder with yours - this earned a smile from him, "but. . . don't you wanna see what's out there? who's out there?"

his eyes perked up from the blade of grass and settled on you for a few moments before darting across the street. his smile turned softer, shyer. clapton had all he wanted, right here.

the journey towards the college would take a couple of hours and clapton offered to give you a ride. your hands shook as you packed your belongings into his trunk. he watched from the side, eyebrows furrowing as he bit the inside of his cheek. once you were both settled into the small red car, clapton set off. but not before he reached his hand over, giving yours a reassuring squeeze.

he didn't let go for the entire journey.

the dorm room was pretty much what you were expecting, cramped, but decent. your roommate, damon, offered a smile to both of you as clapton helped you inside with your luggage. with a warm, tight hug and a small cheeky kiss on the cheek that you laughed off and so did he, clapton left. not before he sheepishly eyed your roommate, though. they exchanged a look, and it made your eyebrow raise as you gingerly rubbed the skin where his lips had been.

as soon as that door closed, damon piped up. "your boyfriend?"

a laugh erupted from you. clapton? your boyfriend? you hadn't even kissed, how could you possibly be dating? was it the kiss on the cheek? that doesn't count. you were best friends. there were no feelings there. clapton davis? dating? never. that damn skateboard had his heart. yeah. it wasn't like you had feelings for him that were bubbling below the surface, threatening to escape after every interaction. it's not like you wanted to ask him if this was something more. and it definitely wasn't like you had thought about pushing him against the lockers every day and kissing him like time was running out, or that you imagined him taking his hand in yours, for real - nah.

best friends. that's all it was.

but that comment remained firmly in your mind. it had been a few weeks and you couldn't shake it. was this really something more? could it be, even?

clapton was the kind of guy who could win anyone around, practically everyone he had ever met had fallen in love with him in some capacity. sure, he could be an ass when it came to his music opinions and that adorable sting fixation could be grating - but not to you. it was exactly that, adorable. he was like this with everyone, right?

even in class, you found it hard to focus. he'd insist on sitting behind you or beside you so he could pester you. in this particular lecture, he was behind. clapton leans back, swinging in his chair as he eyes the back of your head, caught in a daydream.

he sighs, deeply. clapton often looked at you like this when you weren't looking. he would desperately try to think of something to say to make you laugh, to catch your attention, to have your eyes fall on him even just for a little while. he flips open his little black notebook and peers at the bullet-pointed contents. 'say something funny, say something witty, wear their favourite colour, tell them you like them.' he hastily shut the book.

leaning over, his fingers brush your hair behind your ear. you immediately felt goosebumps spread across your neck and a tingle ran down your spine like lightning. a blush burned deep in your cheeks. "do. . . you got a pen i could borrow?" clapton whispered, his breath hot on your skin.

with a hard swallow, you passed a pen backwards and offered him a quick smile before looking straight ahead again, gritting your teeth to firmly push those thoughts from your head.

best. friends. that's all it was.

these thoughts led to you avoiding him, avoiding one on one time. it was better to stay in a group when you were with him, or was it? damon wasn't the last person to ask if you guys were dating. and you saw clapton's face when he was asked, the laugh he gave people - clearly he thought it was a joke too.

it was fine, it was going to be fine. one of your classmates had invited you to a house party that night, this would surely take your mind off things. you'd get some space, more space from clapton and maybe you'd find someone new. maybe he'd find someone new.

your stomach churned at the thought.

walking inside, you relished the sound of conversation from all sides. there wasn't any space to listen to your thoughts in here and that's exactly the kind of escape you wanted. shoulders rising and falling with a sigh of relief, you find the kitchen. a drink in hand and you definitely feel more relaxed. yeah, things were going to work out. things were-

clapton.

your eyes fixate on him from across the room. he's on the sofa, surrounded by people. they're chatting to him like he's the most interesting guy in the world. you notice when he laughs, they do too. they're hanging on his every word and they love it. they're too far away for you to make out their conversation, but you can tell that clapton is enjoying telling the story. he always did like attention - and not in a conceited way, he just naturally attracted people.

and then, his eyes met yours.

eyes widening, you look away and down the rest of your drink. a few seconds later, you started to leave the kitchen area to retreat towards the cramped hallway. clapton called out to you, telling you to wait, to 'come join him'. you didn't listen, but if you'd stayed a few seconds longer, you might have heard that the story he had enjoyed telling so much was about you and him.

in the hallway, you gathered yourself and ran your fingers through your hair. it wasn't long before you heard clapton approaching too, though, and you let out a soft grunt of frustration. "trouble in paradise?" someone muttered and you shot them an icy glare. the door to the backyard ahead, you left and slammed it behind you.

the cold atmosphere hit you and your cheeks were hotter than you realised. it felt as though you could actually breathe in the night air. but when you heard the door handle turn and clapton exit, you felt just as tense again.

"what the hell is going on with you?" he speaks in a firm but confused tone, there was a hint of hurt in there. the brunette approached you from behind and stopped just shy of you. "you've been acting weird for weeks, ignoring me, rejecting every single offer to hang out - did i do something wrong?"

that last sentence hurts you, it hurt to think of him wondering if he'd upset you. "no." is all you manage to say.

night envelops you both, the quiet thumping of the music from inside fills the silence in between your words.

"then, what?" he asks and you can hear him almost stomp his feet.

"people keep asking me if we're. . . a thing and i thought. . . well i thought it would be better if we kept some distance, that's all." you said with a shrug, folding your arms firmly.

silence falls around you both for a few moments. you wondered if he could hear how loudly your heart was beating in your chest, as though it were threatening to escape.

and then you could feel his presence behind you, his head near your shoulder, lips close to your ear. ". . . is that what you want?" clapton asked, his breath shaking slightly.

the closeness was almost too much to handle. your stomach in knots, it trips over itself, desperately trying to untangle the anxious mess inside. of course distance wasn't what you wanted.

he mutters your name softly into your ear, placing a hand on your hip and you snap, turning quickly with clenched fists. you want to yell, you want to ask him what you both are, you want to tell him to piss off - you want him.

fuck, you want him.

clapton raises his hands slightly to give you space and looks rather defeated, those hazel puppy dog eyes veering to the left to avert your heated gaze. but he then stands still, slowly his eyes return to yours and he can see conflict behind your eyes. gaining a little more of his confidence back, he puffs out his chest and takes a step closer. you noticed how his hands still shook though, despite that secure stance.

you held his gaze as he approached, your own hands shaking in turn. he almost commanded your attention with those eyes. and you realise in that moment that clapton sees you. he really sees you. he always has. you crave him, like it's been years since you both touched, his soft skin against yours.

"is that. . . what you want?" he repeats, bringing you out of your thoughts and he's firmer this time. you are inches from one another.

his hand snakes towards your neck along your supple skin, cupping against your jaw, thumb resting on your cheek. you can't help but let out a small gasp in response as your hand comes up to rest on his wrist. your cheek nuzzles into his touch, warm, safe.

"i want you." you finally admit, words trembling from your mouth, a short laugh following suit as if it was so silly to hear it out loud.

clapton's eyes sparkle and stare back into yours. you notice how his whole face lights up, unable to hide the smile pulling on his lips. "you have me, you always have." he admits with a soft chuckle like it was so obvious.

and then he kisses you, he kisses you like he's hungry, like he's starving. your lips collide, your eyes close and your knees threaten to buckle beneath you. you come undone. clapton wraps an arm around you to pull your body closer to his and you trail a hand up the back of his neck to grip that messy, adorable hair. his tongue slips into your mouth and you welcome it, feeling warmth rise in your belly.

you never wanted to let go, you never wanted to stop. his hand firmly on your neck and a strong hand on your back, he held you tightly. though you tried to suppress it, a little sigh of pleasure escapes and you can feel him smirk proudly through the kiss. it causes him to hold you tighter in response and your other hand grips his shirt for stability.

the cold air nips at your skin but it's a welcome sensation against the fervency of the kiss. his hand slides around your neck to the back of your head, his fingers lacing into the back of your hair causing ripples of tingles across your shoulders. you whisper his name into his mouth and it comes out in a pleading tone - but you're not sure what you're pleading for.

he gives you what you want, despite you yourself not knowing what that was. a gentle tug on your hair and his firm hand trailing down your side to tug at the bottom of your shirt cheekily. a giggle erupts from your lips as you pull away just enough to let it out, eyeing him with a smirk.

before you know it, your hand is in his and your eyes are drawn to watch your hands tangle together. it amazes you how perfectly they fit, his digits sneaking into yours with a thumb caressing your skin. it felt right. this was exactly what you wanted. it felt different from the other times, more tender, more meaningful. he gives your hand a gentle squeeze and you meet his gaze once more.

"so," he speaks up, breathless, "is our anniversary now or is it when i thought we were actually dating all those years ago?"

you can't help but laugh, breathless too. "oh my god," you roll your eyes, "shut up."

[desertduality]

gigs phasmo but the ghost is just confused mumbo jumbo

physically unable to write a snippet so here's a whole oneshot AKJSDKJ I hope you like it!! Personally I had a ton of fun lmao

-------

The house was nice, as far as haunted locations went. The flowers out front were dead, sure, but that was probably on account of their caretaker being dead as well.

The neighbors had been the ones to call this address in, claiming that although the owner of the property had died quite some months ago, lights frequently turned on and off in the house. The police had been by several times to check for intruders, and had come up empty every time. Finally, some desperate neighbor had given in and called paranormal investigators.

So there they were, Impulse pulling up on the curb just as the sun dipped below the horizon. Prime ghost hunting time, for some reason; Scar hadn’t really paid attention to the science and research when he’d signed up for the job. Besides, the other three had all that handled quite nicely. Scar was just along for the ride. 

“Scar, you know what you’re doing?” Impulse asked, grabbing a flashlight off the wall and clipping his walkie onto his belt. 

“Sir, yes sir!” Scar quipped, scanning the gear for his usual fare. “One paraba-dolical microphone coming up.”

“Grab a thermometer, too,” Impulse suggested, clapping him on the shoulder on his way out of the van. “Let’s try to keep this one clean! The company is running low on cursed items with resurrection abilities.”

“I know for a fact we’ve made the biggest dent in that,” Skizz’s voice crackled out of the walkie, changing to a slight echo as he presumably walked in the house.

“Why do you sound proud of that?” Grian asked, speaking into the radio as he grabbed a salt canister. Scar snickered, reaching over him to grab the thermometer. 

“We’ve got a record going, man! No one can stop us!”

“You have to admire his positivity,” Scar said brightly, clicking his flashlight to make sure it worked. 

“Yeah, I guess he’s got that going for him,” Grian replied, giving a short wave as he left the van. “See you on the inside, Scar.”

Scar gave a jaunty wave, doing one last check on his equipment before starting after him. A voice cut him off before he could leave. 

“Did anyone check the name?” Impulse asked, and Scar turned around to squint at the corkboard, eyes catching on the top. 

Huh. Interesting. 

Scar clicked the talk button on his walkie. “Looks like… Mumbo Jumbo?”

There was a long pause, and Scar almost thought they had missed it somehow. Then the response came.

“Scar,” Grian said, sounding tiredly amused. “If you can’t pronounce it, don’t just make something up.”

“No, It— It literally says Mumbo Jumbo,” Scar replied, glancing up to double check. “Don’t make me waste a photo to prove it. I will, you know I will.”

“Don’t, Scar,” Impulse jumped in, so quickly that the start of his sentence cut out. “We believe you.”

“Get in here before I come and drag you, Face,” Skizz chimed in, and Scar rolled his eyes with a chuckle, stepping out of the van. 

The house was warmer than the air outside, so Scar took that as a sign that someone had gotten to the fuse box. He wandered around with the paradabolic microphone for a few minutes, watching closely for big leaps in the readings. Eventually, Impulse called out from upstairs, claiming that he’d found the room. Scar hurried towards him, making it there just in time to watch him set up the video camera, fiddling with the tripod and muttering complaints about its stability. 

The room was a bedroom, a large bed against one wall and a shelf full of dead plants on the other. Everything was covered with a thin layer of dust, but that was pretty usual. Obviously no one had been keeping up with the cleaning.   

“Anyone done spirit box?” Grian asked, and Scar jumped and whirled around, finding him in the doorway. Grian giggled, and Scar huffed. 

“Not yet,” Impulse said, finally getting the tripod to settle. He looked over at them. “Want us to leave?”

“Not really,” Grian grumbled, starting to power up the spirit box. “But yes.”

Scar walked out of the door and Impulse followed him, closing it and leaving Grian in the room alone. Immediately, they heard the telltale singing introduction of Grian beginning to ask questions. The rest of the house was quiet. So far, everything had been entirely unremarkable.

“I’m going to go grab D.O.T.S and a book,” Impulse spoke suddenly, starting to walk away. “Maybe you could start grabbing some stuff for a polty pile?”

“Sure, will do,” Scar said, and started picking up objects from the table in the hallway. A lot of picture frames and spare wires, for whatever reason.

Grian opened the door to the room just as Scar arrived with his arms full, and Scar tilted his head at the odd look on the other’s face. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was wearing a faint frown. 

“What’s wrong?” Scar asked, curious. Normally, Grian came out of a spirit box session with wide eyes and immediately ran to the van. This was out of character.

“I think…” Grian started, contemplative frown getting more pronounced. “I think the ghost apologized to me.”

“...huh?”

“I asked where it was,” Grian said, spirit box slack in his hand. “And then it said something, and then I screamed, and then it— I could have sworn it said sorry. Like, for scaring me.”

“Oh,” Scar said, tilting his head. “Has that happened before?”

Grian shook his head slowly, staring at the spirit box for a minute before exhaling forcefully. “Let’s just keep going,” he said, shoving the device in his pocket. “We still have a job to do.” Then, into his walkie: “We’ve got spirit box, guys. One thing down.”

They kept doing their jobs like they normally would, but none of them could quite shake the sense of something being different.

Usually, the haunted locations they visited had a foreboding sort of feeling to them. They get in and out of those places as soon as possible, the feeling of imminent danger settling on their shoulders like a heavy jacket. There was none of that, here. It was obviously haunted, but it still just felt like... a house. It didn’t feel malicious at all. 

Impulse put a book down, and writing appeared a few minutes later. Just a single sentence, asking if they would water the plants on their way out.

They laid down D.O.T.S and stayed out in the van for a while, eventually seeing a tall, hazy figure pass quickly through. 

They caught ghost orbs on the video surveillance.

Impulse took the Ultraviolet flashlight and found fingerprints on the side of the video camera, like the ghost had been curious about it. 

The salt Grian had placed on the ground was smeared and scattered, almost as if the ghost had slipped on it instead of stepped in it. 

“If we discovered some new type of ghost,” Grian said eventually, muffled through his own hands covering his face, after hours of pouring over the conflicting evidence. “I am going to be upset.”

“None of this makes sense!” Impulse complained, flipping through the research journal that Scar had never touched. He was scowling at the pages like they’d personally offended him. “It won’t even hunt!”

“He seems kinda friendly,” Scar said, staring at the steady line of the EMF reader on the screen. “The poor guy just wants his plants watered. I don’t even have the heart to tell him that it probably wouldn’t help. Those things are dead dead.”

Impulse’s head thunked down on the table in front of him. “We’re so fired.”

In the silence following that statement, Skizz burst into the van, holding an object aloft in celebration.

“I found it!” Skizz yelled triumphantly, the wrinkly figure of the monkey paw clutched in his hand. “It fell behind some boxes. I told you it was here.”

“Oooh,” Scar said, rushing over in excitement. “What should we wish for?”

“A quick death?” Grian said flatly.

Scar waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve had too many of those. It gets kind of boring, believe it or not.”

“Let’s just wish to see it,” Impulse said, heaving himself up from his hunched position by the monitor. “We’ve done everything else we could do, let’s just do it.”

“Sure, why not,” Grian said, shrugging. “Let’s go out in a blaze of glory, then.”

“That’s the spirit!” Skizz laughed, and together the four of them marched back into the house.

The room was exactly as they’d left it, and Impulse took a moment to turn off the D.O.T.S. Then they stood in a loose circle, tense and determined. Whatever was happening here, it would be over soon. One way or the other. Maybe the company wouldn’t even bother to bring them back, this time. 

Skizz held the monkey paw aloft, dim light casting dramatic shadows on his face. “I wish to see the ghost!”

A finger on the monkey paw cracked and groaned as it bent down, and a chill swept across the room, quick and encompassing. Their flashlights flickered, and then died, leaving them in complete darkness. For a long moment, the only sound was their chorus of quick and shaky breathing.

When the lights turned back on, Scar was face to face with a ghost. A ghost that looked equally as startled as he was. 

Scar yelped and stumbled backwards, tripping over the open book on the ground and hurtling towards the bed. The ghost — a tall man with dark hair and an absolutely wonderful mustache — lunged forward and reached out as if to catch him, eyes wide and panicked. To be fair to the dead man, it absolutely would have worked if his hands were still a tangible thing; As it were, his attempt at grabbing Scar to keep him upright was rather rudely foiled by his outstretched hand passing right through Scar’s flailing arm.

Scar hit the bed with a grunt as various cries of alarm sounded out around him, light bouncing around the room haphazardly as the sound of clattering reached his ears; someone had dropped their flashlight, apparently. Scar laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling, dazed. 

“Oh gosh! I’m so— I didn’t mean to pop in like that, I—”

Scar looked up just in time to watch a crucifix fly through the air and pass harmlessly through the ghost’s head, hitting the wall with a thud and falling gracelessly to the floor. The ghost yelped and ducked — much too late, not that it mattered, anyway — and Scar’s gaze next landed on Grian, still standing there with his arm extended in a throwing motion, hand empty and eyes wide.

“What was that gonna do, G?!” Skizz asked hysterically, fumbling for his camera, accidentally snapping a picture of his own face and swearing when the light blinded him. 

Impulse had knocked over the tripod in all of the chaos, and was now frantically attempting to set it back upright. The ghost — Mumbo Jumbo — turned his anxious eyes on Scar, who for once was struck speechless, jaw slack. 

“Are you alright, mate?” Mumbo Jumbo asked, hands fidgeting together. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but— Well, you summoned me. There’s only so much to be done for that.”

With everyone else still scrambling about the room, Scar allowed himself a few seconds to process things. Most ghosts they’d come across — all of them, actually — had been nothing less than murderous and bloodthirsty. The cordial ghost of a perfectly normal man was not something they had been trained for, but that didn’t exactly mean that it was impossible. Sure, maybe it had come way, way out of left field, but Scar prided himself on rolling with the punches. He pushed himself up from the bed with a sheepish, charming smile. 

“It’s all good,” Scar said, bright and friendly. “For sure our fault, we summoned you and got surprised when you showed up. Kind of rude of us, I think. Your mattress is super comfortable, by the way.”

Mumbo Jumbo blinked, as if surprised by the onslaught of words, a confused little furrow appearing between his brows. “Thank you?” he said, glancing behind him at the bed. “It was…expensive.”

“I mean, hey! We spend a lot of our lifetime in a bed, right? Might as well shell out some cash for quality.”

“What are we doing?” Grian asked quickly, almost like he was talking to himself, hands pressed to his head in utter bafflement. “This is insane, what is happening.”

“Grian! Don’t be rude,” Scar admonished playfully, then turned back to grin at the ghost. “Mumbo Jumbo, right?”

The man nodded faintly. “Just…Mumbo is fine.”

“Sweet! I’m Scar,” Scar said, and then started pointing to his friends, all standing stock still in various stages of shock and confusion. “The rude one who throws stuff is Grian, that’s Impulse by the window, and over there is Skizz!”

“Nice to meet you?” Mumbo said, glancing around nervously. “I would offer to shake your hand, but…”

“God, this is weird,” Skizz blurted, eyes still wide but starting to relax his stance. “You do know you’re dead, right? We never actually get to ask any of the ghosts we meet.”

“Oh, I— Yeah, I’m well aware,” Mumbo said, laughing a little. “You’ve met other ghosts, then?”

“We’re ghost hunters,” Impulse said, and now that the shock was fading, Scar could see a spark of excitement in his eyes. “But I mean— We’ve never met any like you.”

“Mostly they want to kill us,” Grian said, stepping up next to Scar. “Are you sure you don’t want to kill us?”

“I don’t think I know how, much less want to,” Mumbo said, glancing out the window. “Did someone call you to find me? I’ve been trying not to scare anyone, but I suppose the lights might’ve done me in.”

“Yeah, that was pretty much what tipped them off,” Scar said apologetically. “A few too many weird things happen and boom, here we are.”

“What happens now?” Mumbo asked, chuckling nervously. “I mean, you found me. Job done, yeah?”

“Usually we figure out what type of ghost it is and the company sends out a specialized team to evict it,” Impulse answered, brow pinched in thought. “But normally that’s for safety reasons. You don’t seem like a threat. No offense.”

“Oh, none taken.”

“Can I ask how you died?” Skizz asked, eyes alight with curiosity. 

“Skizz,” Grian hissed. “You can’t just ask people how they died!”

“I was just wondering!”

“No, it’s— it’s fine,” Mumbo stuttered, and Scar had a feeling that if ghosts could blush, he would be doing it. “I… fell down the stairs.”

Scar nodded solemnly. “Could have happened to anyone.”

“So what are we actually going to do about this?” Grian asked, vaguely gesturing at the room. “It feels like it would be wrong to kick this guy out of his own house. He’s not really causing trouble.”

“Yeah, I— I do like my house,” Mumbo interjected, awkward smile on his face. “I’d rather stay, if that’s alright.”

“Someone’s bound to move in eventually, you know,” Skizz said, pitying frown on his face. “There’s already a for sale sign in the yard. The new owners might not be super ghost-friendly.”

Mumbo’s shoulders slumped, a dejected look on his face as he frowned at the floor. Scar felt a pang of sympathy grow in his chest, and he glanced out the window at the rows of houses down the street. 

It really was quite a nice neighborhood. 

“...You know,” Scar started, gaze drifting over to Grian, a slow smile forming on his face. “Our lease is almost up.”

Grian looked over at him, eyes already resigned, and sighed. 

Scar laughed, grinning, and Mumbo slowly smiled back.

[glasvera]

@nupppuff and @mosh-mosh, I hear you loud and clear! ;)

Blooded Moon

Moon Knight x Fem!Vampire!Reader

Description: Continues in Dead Man Walking! When you're on the run, cursed to be a vampire and chased by the superheroes that want to save the city, Moon Knight finds you first. Maybe saving you isn't his best idea, but he'll be damned if he leaves you behind when you're this terrified. Being easy on the eyes also helps.

Warnings/Disclaimers: Gets a little spicy at the end but no smut (yet...?), cursing, angst, blood, blood-sucking, pretty vivid descriptions of the taste (I mean, it's a vampire reader, so what'd you expect?), hurt and comfort, starts out with you being chased

A/N: This has been cooking in my head since I got the first request for him, and honestly, I most likely will make a smutty part two. The main reason I took so long on it was because I wanted to research and be respectful of his DID, but then I ended up barely incorporating it anyway because I didn't feel it necessary and didn't wanna shoehorn it in either.

Word Count: 2.7k

You were one of the first to turn after the moon turned crimson and the sky froze in eternal night. It wasn’t something you asked for, and frankly, you were even more terrified now than you were before becoming a vampire. You weren’t looking for extra power, and even if it smells incredibly good now, the thought of drinking blood made your stomach turn.

The worst of it was how utterly alone you felt. You couldn’t go back to your apartment, returning to your job was out of the question, and you didn’t trust yourself around friends and family.

Oh, and there was the fact that being a vampire made you one of the targets of the superheroes trying to save the city.

This is how you find yourself now, scrambling over a concrete wall as your claws desperately search for purchase against the grit and gray. They're close now; you can hear the distinct rumble and whir of Iron Man's propulsion jets, and Moon Knight's steps clang against the rusted metal of a nearby fire escape. You manage to make it over the wall and into a small alley, tumbling into a pile of garbage bags that only barely soften your landing, but at least you can hide amongst the trash. You cower in the corner and desperately try to contain your breathing as staggered sobs choke in your throat. 

“I lost her!” you hear the distorted, robotic voice of Iron Man as he zips around in the sky.

“All right, you go check the other areas. I'll keep an eye on the ground here,” Moon Knight replies from what sounds like the next building over. Shit. Shit shit shit shit. But you're too weak; you've gone too long without the sustenance your body now craves, and you've expended far too much energy avoiding them until now. Your body trembles, your breaths quivering, and you cover your head with your hands as you curl up and wait for the inevitable. His steps get closer, closer, and you hear his boots crunching over piles of garbage. A soft whimper echoes in your throat.

Surprisingly, a gentle hand gloved in white rests on your shoulder. “Hey… he's gone. Are you okay?”

Wide-eyed, your vision flashes from that hand to the face of its owner, and you let out a terrified and shaky sound at the sight of Moon Knight's hooded and masked visage. His fingertips curl a bit firmer onto the tattered remnants of your sleeve before his thumb rubs soothingly against your skin.

“It's alright. I'm not going to hurt you. I can tell you're scared,” he explains as he kneels next to you, his words cold comfort against the fear wracking your feeble frame. “Tony's an idiot; he thinks we're better off getting rid of most of the vampires… but you didn’t become one by choice, did you?”

You shake your head, nose sniffling before you wipe it on the back of your wrist. Even though you can't see his face, you can see the way his body slumps slightly and hear his heavy sigh.

“Thought so. Do you have somewhere safe to go?”

You shake your head again.

Moon Knight looks from side to side, and before you know it, he's scooping you out of the trash heap. You're too frozen to do anything about it, but honestly, you had been half expecting to die from this encounter anyway. Something about his hold is comforting, though, and you're finally able to relax ever so slightly. 

“I'm gonna get an earful for this later, but I'll take you somewhere safe. I promise,” he utters before carting you off into the eternal night. 

-----

You find yourself waiting in a lobby of the Baxter Building just outside the room where Iron Man and Moon Knight argue back and forth. Occasionally, you Mr. Fantastic butt in too.

“She could be dangerous! What if she brings more of them to her?”

“Our location hasn't been a problem in the past. Or did you forget that we're holed up in one of the most prominent buildings in New York City?” you hear Moon Knight's muffled voice through the wall fighting back.

“That's not what I meant! We don't know what these new vampires are capable of. If she's able to breach our defenses and let them in--”

“She didn't ASK for this!”

You jump in your seat when you hear the booming voice of your savior. It appears to have a similar effect on the rest of the room's occupants, as you can't seem to hear any more talking now. There's a murmuring of a woman's voice--likely Invisible Woman--but it's too quiet to make out the words. You hear stomping boots approaching the door and promptly sit up in your seat. Probably best that you don't let it be known that you were eavesdropping. 

The door opens with a click, and Moon Knight's white masked visage greets you. 

“Let’s go,” he says gruffly without any greeting. “I'm tired of dealing with these big time idiots.”

Unsure of what to offer in reply, you wordlessly stand and begin following him as he winds through the hallway towards an elevator. The air is heavy between you as you try to study him for any sign of what he's thinking. Though, you don’t have to wait long before he starts talking again.

“No, Khonshu. She’s different. Scared.”

“I-I’m not--”

But he seems to ignore you in favor of the voice only he can hear. “You--through me, I might add--are supposed to protect your travelers in the night. Why doesn’t she count as one of them?”

Suddenly he cries out, clutching his head in pain as he nearly doubles over. You instinctively reach a hand out to his shoulder before he flinches away from you, his movements panicked while he frantically grabs the railings along the elevator’s wall. Scared and unsure of what to do, if anything, to help him, you pull away and press your back against the opposite wall. Your breath shakes in staggered puffs through your nostrils.

“You know it to be true! You’re the one who talked about reversing it all! She needs our help!” he calls out to the air in anguish, and you can only watch on, terrified. After several more long moments, standing across from him as he slowly gains control of his breathing, it seems as though the intrusive presence he suffered has conceded for the moment. Something tells you that wouldn’t be the last time you would see him like that.

“...Moon Knight?” you murmur hesitantly, pushing off of the wall just barely. He’s still hunched over and shaking his head.

“Don’t… Don’t worry about me. Used to it,” he replies, and that’s all you get from him when you exit the elevator. He doesn’t speak again until you’ve made it to what seems to be his own private quarters for the time being.

His head turns to you, his masked face regarding you with unknown emotion. He cocks his head to the side, nodding for you to come in with him. “You’ll be safe here. Promise.”

It’s well-equipped, and it seems even more comfortable than your old apartment to boot. It makes sense, of course, but still, it’s so nice you almost feel like you’re intruding. You glance around at the standard yet luxurious furnishings, and you take note of the various bits of discarded clothing strewn about or the crumpled papers that didn’t quite make it into any of the waste bins. This eternal night must keep everyone busy at all hours.

“This is… I can’t--” you move to protest, but suddenly he draws back his hood and removes his mask.

“Don’t sweat it,” he interrupts you, giving you the barest hint of a smile. He’s handsome, you realize, with scruffy brown hair and kind doe eyes to match. “I saw how scared you were… it… reminded me of myself once upon a time. A fate thrust upon you that you never asked for. I could see it in your eyes.”

Your lips part softly before you press them shut once more, and your gaze finds sudden interest in the wooden floorboards.

“Hey, you don’t have to talk about it. ‘M just explaining my reasons,” he adds before he wanders further into the apartment. “...Even if Khonshu doesn’t like it one bit.”

Khonshu. There’s that name again, and you swear you’ve heard it somewhere before. “Is… Is Khonshu the one who made your head hurt in the elevator?”

Moon Knight scoffs, shaking his head as he pours you both glasses of water. “Yeah. He’s not too pleased by defiance, and he gets even more pissed off when I point out his bullshit. Typical god stuff.”

Your eyes go wide. “A… a god!?” you exclaim in surprise. Though, perhaps it shouldn’t be all that surprising, you realize, when you consider the amount of heroes and villains that are gods themselves.

“Khonshu, Egyptian god of the moon… and vengeance. What, did you think I picked the name because it sounded cool?” he jokes before handing you a glass.

“I…” You stop and bring the glass to your lips, choosing to shut yourself up instead of embarrassing yourself any further. The water is cool, and it should be refreshing, but it stings like ice going down your throat and leaves you feeling even more thirsty than before. You wince and nearly drop the glass, but he sees your reaction and catches your hand in his to steady it. “Shit…” you mutter, feeling ashamed at the weakness that washes over you… and the warmth you feel creeping up your face at his touch.

“Right. Vampire. Probably more in the mood for blood, huh?” he asks before taking the unwanted cup from your grasp. You vehemently shake your head, curling your lip in disgust, and he snickers. “Like it or not, that’s the only thing that’ll work for you right now.”

“And you, what, just have some on hand?” you inquire half-heartedly. “I don’t want it, either way. I can’t… I’m scared I’ll lose control if I give in.”

He sighs, shaking his head. Clearly you had missed something. “We can worry about it later if you’re so against it. For now, you should at least clean up and get some rest. I’ll keep Stark off your ass in the meantime. Bathroom’s down the hall and to the right. Should be a clean robe in there, and I’ll ask Sue if she’s got some clothes you can borrow.”

When he dons his mask and hood once more, readying himself to leave, you reach forward and catch him by the crook of his elbow. His head turns to face you, and you suddenly feel vulnerable once again under that unreadable stare.

“I… thank you. I don’t know how to repay you, or why you went through this much effort to help me, but… I am grateful,” you tell him softly as your fingertips curl into the white fabric of his sleeve.

“Repay me by staying alive. Make it through this with your humanity intact. It’s all any of us can do,” he responds, clasping his hand over yours. A muffled chuckle sounds through his mask as he adds, “Guess you being pretty might have had something to do with it, too. Wouldn’t mind coming back to that face for a while.”

Oh, how incredibly unfair of him to say that behind the safety of his mask. Your eyes turn to saucers, your grip loosens, and your jaw hangs agape while heat blossoms across your cheeks. No words find themselves before he withdraws, giving you a little wave and heading out the door.

-----

It’s been a few weeks now, and you have learned quite a bit during your stay. Moon Knight--or rather, the system that is Moon Knight--had opened up to you over time, and you had come to know not just Marc Spector, but Steven and Jake as well. His system as a whole seemed to take a liking to you, and on the rare occasions that he actually had the time, you would often sit together on the couch and talk about everything and nothing. He seemed strangely content to listen to you ramble on about your past life, the friends and family you left behind, even ready to offer you a tissue or a shoulder to cry on should you need it. You had little need for sleep anymore, so you were happy to indulge in time with him every chance you had. Never did you feel trapped in this apartment; in fact, you found yourself waiting in anticipation for him to come back after every mission. He was starting to invade your thoughts even when he wasn’t with you. No one had ever treated you like this before, comforting and caring for you without making you feel lesser or like a burden.

Of course, that didn’t diminish the hunger pangs that gnawed more and more fervently at your entire being with every passing day. Marc had warned you that it might be even more dangerous to go without blood for this long, but you held fast in your convictions, and he at least respected that.

That is, until that hunger has you doubled over before curling into a fetal position. It felt like your stomach was devouring itself before draining the rest of your vitality, sapping all the remaining energy you had as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. That’s how Marc finds you when he returns, bloody and bruised.

He’s never smelled better.

“Y/N!” he calls out, hurrying over as fast as his slight limp will allow. He rips off his mask and drops to his knees to cradle you in his arms. Your breathing is shallow, and there’s an unmistakable hunger in your bloodshot eyes. “Hang on, I’ll… I--”

He frantically glances around the room even as he scours his own brain, trying to think of anything to alleviate your suffering. He’s warmth, he’s comfort… but the pounding in your head, the red that blurs at the edges of your vision, you can’t… you can’t…

“Ah, shit--fuck!”

You come to after a few moments with a rush, groaning and inhaling deeply as your fangs dig into soft flesh. Coppery… salty… sweet… the heady feeling of hot crimson hits your tongue and you forget everything else. Your face is buried in the crook of his neck as his head lolls to one side, his grip on you tightening as you drink his life’s essence. Nothing has ever tasted so good, so fulfilling, so powerful. You fall deeper and deeper into hedonistic bliss and crawl into his lap, straddling him as you take and take and--

No. No, this isn’t you. You can’t--

You break free of your blood trance, ripping away from him as he eyes you groggily. His blood is still hot on your lips, tacky as it dries before you instinctively collect it with a swipe of your tongue. Bracing your hands on his shoulders while your claws reflexively dig into them, the realization of what you’ve done fills you with horror and dread, and you stiffen with a gasp.

“Marc, I’m so sorry, are you okay!? I--”

Your apologies are silenced when he crashes his lips against yours. It’s messy, metallic, your lips sticking together every time he pulls away for breath. His hands slide down your sides, tickling your ribs before trailing down to your hips and gripping tightly. He tugs you against him. A soft moan hums in your throat, and his tongue takes the opportunity and delves into your mouth. Blood dilutes into saliva as he seems to seek it out, devouring you body and soul through his lips and tongue. To say your mind was a mess was an understatement: a violent whirlpool swirls with your emotions. You feel alive again, rejuvenated, powerful. But then there’s shock, arousal, a different hunger, a longing that leaves you panting.

Weeks worth of tentative talks and longing glances, coupled with the passionate hunger that accompanies your vampiric nature, have come to a head. When he draws back, chocolate eyes blackened with lust, his own blood smeared across his lips even as it trickles from the fresh wound on his neck, you knew one thing with certainty:

Moon Knight was an absolute freak. And you were so into it.

[astarionancuntnin]

Hyello! I don’t know if you do requests but I thought I’d ask so the request is that x reader is honestly pretty badass and Astarion does something that pisses her off and so she barges into his tent after a long day to tell him off and fight him but decides that amidst the anger there is also hunger and decides theres a a way he can make it up to her and smutty content insues, preferably very like animalistic?? think closer by nine inch nails lol i do like the idea that they're both fighting for dominance in the interaction, you choose which one wins lol hope I’m not bothering you

did i listen to closer on repeat to bring you this? perhaps

and i never really put it out there, but hell yeah im taking requests! thank you for being my first <3

(also thank you for your patience i was heavily focused on my last chapters for die for you before approaching this ask and then it really went overboard LMAO you said "animalistic" and i took it literally, i hope you enjoy!)

Run, Little Fox

pairing: astarion x reader!ranger!tav

rating: E

word count: 5.1k

cw: 18+. smut, biblicaly accurate Astarion primal!astarion, predator/prey, knife play (if you squint), rivals/hate sex, mildly dubious consent, fighting for dominance, p in v, blood/vampire bites, creampie, very slight somnophilia (but id rather mention it, never too safe)

read on ao3

my masterlist

or keep reading down below~

That’s it. 

That was once too many.

This brat of a rogue had gotten on your nerves more times than you could recall, and today you decided you had enough. Your group trusted and respected your position as their leader, a brave and cunning ranger whose decisions everyone agreed with — as they were for the greater good — so why couldn’t he do the same? It wasn’t enough that he questioned your every move in front of everyone else, no, he grew bored of you ignoring his remarks. He just had to act on his impulses and get you in trouble this time. 

You had intended on getting information out of a group of adventurers, when he had tried to pickpocket them in the middle of your discussion, and when he got caught, things obviously went south. You tried to talk things down, but they wouldn’t hear it. One thing led to another and next thing you know, they laid in a pool of their own blood and you stood with no more information than you started with. All of it, because of him, and he had the gall to say it was your own fault for not defusing the situation better. Really?!

The stress of this adventure — the impending doom that those tadpoles in your brains were — was already enough weight on your shoulders, you didn’t want to deal with Astarion’s trickery on top of it anymore. No — you couldn’t. You had enough of his unnerving attitude; enough of his shameless flirting when it was clear you weren’t interested; enough of his impetuous disdain and insolence that matched your own. Tonight, you would set the record right.

Once back at camp after this horrendous, unending day by his side, the first thing you do after dropping your loot and equipment at your tent, is bolt straight for Astarion’s. 

Still covered in a mix of your sweat, today’s unfortunate souls’ blood — and your own — you burst through the entrance of Astarion’s tent without so much as a warning to find him peacefully laying, with one arm behind his head and the other already flipping through the pages of a book he had found, and most certainly stolen, during today’s stroll.

He barely lifts his head to notice your intrusion, his eyes darting your way, half-lidded. “Looking for a cuddle?” 

The sheer audacity of the smirk he gives you. 

“You—” You fully step into his tent, staring him down with an anger that couldn’t be contained, as you close the flaps behind you, “Have been a pain in my ass for long enough.”

He scoffs, “Darling, we haven’t been close like that yet — unless this is your way of asking?” He closes his book and puts it aside to focus on you, as he rests on his elbows, his taunting smile never leaving his lips. What you wouldn't give to wipe it away from his smug face.

“The last thing I want is you anywhere near me.”

“You see,” he checks his nails, bored. “I have a hard time believing that, dear.”

“Get over yourself.” You cross your arms over your chest, annoyed at how well he could annoy you. “What makes you think I want anything to do with you after the commotion you caused today?”

“For one, you came to me, in my tent. If that's not a dead giveaway, I don't know what is,” his eyes dart back to you. “And to further prove that point, you still haven’t left — even though you claim I am the reason for your frustration. Really, it's as if you relished my company after all.”

You open your mouth to contradict him, but your words are left hanging when he gets up, his shirt slightly unbuttoned revealing the lines of his muscles concealed underneath and you can’t help but let your eyes wander longer than you intended, gulping as you do so. He chuckles lightly before he speaks up again.

“Secondly, I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me.”

Your eyes shoot up to his face again, and you ask defensively, “Would you rather have me not look at you?”

He gives you a mischievous look as he eyes you up and down, and he meets your gaze with just as much intensity.

“Third, and lastly, I can smell you, darling.”

“I haven't washed yet.”

“You know that isn't what I'm referring to.”

Your heartbeat quickens, as the air seems to draw out of the tent, “Well, whatever you think this is, isn't your doing,” you lie plainly in the hopes he buys it, but his smirk leads you to believe he sees right through it.

“You’re not fooling anyone but yourself, dearest.” He tilts his head, a long silence settling in between the two of you, with your breathing as the only sound audible in the space of his tent. “Maybe… There's another reason you might be frustrated. That all this, pent up anger building inside, is because of something else that you can’t control.” He closes the distance between the two of you, stopping but a whisper away from your face, and his voice gets lower, deeper. “Something that you would rather not have to deal with, but for some reason just can’t get rid of. Something that just rubs you the wrong way, and is the same reason why you can’t help but want to stay in my presence.” 

You scoff, challenging his gaze, “If that something you’re referring to is you, Astarion, then you’re right — you are the sole reason of my frustration as of late, but I could do without your irritating presence.”

“Oh, but I could make it much more pleasurable.” 

You lean back, and turn your head aside, trying to make some distance between the two of you, ”You give yourself too much credit.”

He slides a finger down your throat, leaving an unexpected shiver in its wake as he exposes your neck, when he pushes your vagabond strands of hair away, before he continues.

“Why don’t you give me a chance to show you exactly what I mean? We would both benefit from this, really; I could fix your predicament, and in exchange, I could receive… a little something from you in return.”

You contemplated the opportunity laid before you for just a second before opting for the reasonable choice. You grab his hand, pulling it away from you and when you speak up again, the anger in your voice is gone, leaving place for your much smoother, yet very assertive tone. “If you want my blood, you’ll have to earn it.”

You release his hand and he keeps it in the air where you left it, cocking his head to the side as he looks at where your hand had held him, “Earn it, you say?”

You nod, “We wouldn’t want you to become soft now, would we?” A smile of your own takes place on your lips. “If I am to be your meal, it’s only fair that you work for it.”

His eyes dart back to yours as a smirk appears on his lips, “I’m all pointy ears.”

“I’ll be hiding in the woods. If you can find and catch me, you get to drink from me. But if I catch you instead, you’re never getting a drop from me.”

He sighs, “That’s hardly a fair proposition, darling.” As you’re about to contradict him, he continues, “Here’s mine instead: if you catch me, fine — I’ll keep chasing boars and whatnot in the woods — but if I catch you…” He leans over the crook of your neck, whispering. “I get to drink from you every. night.”

You grab him by the chin, bringing him face to face with you, “If I catch you, you don’t get to put the party at risk anymore. You will be kicked out of the camp if you do.” If you had to put your vitality on the line, he had to bet something just as valuable.

His fangs glow in the faint lighting of his tent as he smiles. “Deal.”

You drop his chin as he steps back and you notice how something about him seems to be shifting; the pupils of his eyes widen, darkening; his own breathing stops; the hands at his side turning into claws, with his long and sharp nails peaking out, ready to hunt. There was nothing left of the rogue in distress that you picked up a few weeks ago, who could’ve pretended to be nothing more than an innocent, but rather pale, elf. 

When he opens his mouth to speak again, you spy his elongated fangs; much longer than you remember them to be, and his voice—

“Run.”

You don’t lose a second more; the vision of nightmares before you triggered your fight or flight reaction and without your weapons, the choice was clear. You turn around and slide through the flaps of his tent, bolting straight for your tent, where you quickly manage to pick up your trusty dagger and your set of bow and arrows.

Thankfully, everyone else at camp had gone off to bed, so no one notices you as you pick a frantic run towards the deep woods, making distance from the hungry vampire on your tracks. 

The woods are dark, with only the faint light of the moon guiding your tracks. Once far enough, or so you think, you hide behind a tree to control your breathing; you had no intention to lose to this, you needed all the advantages you could get. With your experience as a ranger, you were almost assured to catch him off guard.

Almost.

What you had seen in his tent before sprinting off was like nothing you had ever seen before. Of course, you knew Astarion was a vampire, but this was… different.

Terrifying. 

A beast, straight out of those scary bedtime stories you recall from your childhood; a monster guided by his thirst for flesh and blood, who would show no mercy, no remorse. It was merely enough to make you question this challenge with him, Gods, how embarrassing would it be to lose your life to a stupid game you had initiated purely out of spite?

The rustling of leaves nearby brings you back into focus, the adrenaline in your veins keeping you on edge for any sound. You ready your bow before you peek out of your hiding spot to aim where you heard the sound and wait patiently for another moment, your eyes never leaving the bush right until you hear another crack — right when you release the arrow, your aim striking true as you hear a loud thud. You wait a few more seconds, and when no sound can be heard from the bushes you leave your cover, advancing towards your prey. When you push the branches away, you’re face to face with none other than—

A boar.

Shit. Well — guess you caught your next meal.

Another rustling of leaves has you drawing out your bow again, ready to strike, but you’re unable to tell where it comes from.

“How does it feel, little fox?” You hear him through the woods, his deep and raspy, but unnatural voice almost echoing through you. “To be the one being hunted?”

“I’m hunting you, too, in case you forgot,” you mumble mostly to yourself, not wanting to draw out more attention and telling on your location. 

Although you were confident in your capacities, you couldn’t deny the fear building up in your chest. The unnerving feeling of knowing he was around, knowing he was onto you, but unable to find him through the dense woods, the reminder of what he looked like before you ran for your life, a creature of darkness—

“Keep running, you delicious little thing,” his voice already seems to be coming from somewhere else, where exactly you couldn't tell, as if he was constantly moving and it came from everywhere all at once. “You’re making this too easy for me.”

Damn him. He could be anywhere, it was useless to stay there, out in the open, when he was clearly onto you. Then again, he could also intentionally be pushing you to run, only to lead you into a trap of his, right where he wanted you to be. 

No, you’re smarter than this. You won't let your emotions get in the way of this: you were a hunter, born and raised for this kind of situation.

He is just another prey; you can outsmart him. You are better than him.

You put away your bow and arrows; you know your long range weapons would be of no use to you if you couldn’t see your target. If he’s trying to make you run, he has to be further ahead, so the smart choice would be to go back on your tracks.

You turn on your heels in a heartbeat and start sprinting in the opposite way, not even bothering to look behind you for any sign of him, as you hear the clear rustling of branches around you. At this moment, you know he’s right on your tail, the sounds of the forest barely covering the sound of his own movements between the trees — if that was even him. You assume it is, but who’s not to say it isn’t just another boar? Either way, all you can do now is keep running, hoping he will tire before you.

But you were against a creature of the night, someone — or rather something, now — much more in its element, in the darkness of the woods, than you were. 

You don’t run for long before you stop abruptly in your tracks to change directions, leaving the clear road for the crowded forest, where you think you could lose him.

You're temporarily reassured when you don't hear him anymore, and allow yourself to breathe again. Your heart is pounding in your chest, faster than ever, as the fear of being chased — of your life being on the line — created a warmth within you that pooled right down to your core. The risk of being caught, as for once you’re the prey, and you can’t explain it, but it excites you. Although Astarion had gotten on your every nerve, you had to give it to him — he was right that his unnerving attitude had gotten a rise out of you in the most carnal way — but you’d never admit it to his face.

A good minute passes by with no sign of him, and you feel safe enough to peek out of your hiding spot, investigating the beaten path for any sign of life. When you’re met with a dead silence, you move away from the tree you had been leaning against, only to come face to face with Astarion, who drops from the branches just above you. His eyes are somehow a much deeper shade of red, his pupils fully blown out, and he even seems taller as he smiles down on you, and that’s when you perceive the additional fangs that appeared next to the smaller ones you knew. 

You’re fixated on his sudden presence, assessing your opponent the way you would a wild animal, and you remain unmoving, focused on your own breathing.

“Nowhere left to run, I’m afraid,” the voice that comes out of his mouth is otherworldly, almost a growl and nothing like his sultry voice he used to try and charm you before. It’s as if anything that once made him pass as a mortal was gone the second you ran off from him.

You want to turn around and sprint in the opposite direction, but he's faster than your thoughts. Before you can even move a finger, he grabs you by your neck, his sharp nails digging into your skin enough to draw blood as he pushes you against the nearest tree, slightly lifting you from the ground. Instinctively, you reach for your dagger, but he is fast to catch onto your intentions and takes it away from you, throwing it on the ground far from reach. With no other options left, you reach for his hand around your neck, trying to hold on as your vision blurs from the chokehold he had on you. 

“Caught you, little fox,” he leans into your neck where you bled from to breathe you in, and licks your skin from the bottom of your neck up to your jaw, tasting your sweat mixed with the dry blood left on you. Your camp clothing leaves you dangerously exposed as opposed to your armour, and he had every intention to take advantage of it. “You will make a fine meal indeed.”

He presses his entire body against you, and you can feel not only his oddly cold breath down your neck, but also his hard bulge rubbing against your navel, right above the heat between your legs. 

A particularly bad idea crosses your mind, and you know you’ll blame it on the lack of oxygen later, but for now, it’s the only option you have.

Your hand slides down to his crotch, where you squeeze his length through his trousers, making him shudder against you and loosening his grip on your throat. You take this chance to free yourself as you quickly push him away and against the earthy ground of the forest, pinning him down using your entire body weight. You land right next to your knife and grab it just in time before he comes to his senses, now holding it against his throat.

“I win,” you say, breathless, over him.

You remain unmoving, with the threat of your knife keeping him in place, but unsure what to do next — until he laughs. You’re taken aback, but you keep your position, pressing your blade deeper into his throat.

“Well done.” His voice softens, still deeper than what you’re used to, but less guttural than it was a minute ago. “You have me completely and utterly helpless. What will you do next, I wonder?”

You don’t get to answer before you feel him moving under you, his hardness rubbing against that sweet spot between your legs. Your breathing quickens once again, caught off guard by the delicious movement of his hips against you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You ask, the words almost getting stuck in your throat.

“Fulfilling my part of the bargain, of course.”

“That’s not—” he lifts his hips higher, the tip of his crotch rubbing against your clit, and your body tenses at the contact. He’s rock hard and between your thin camp clothes, it's almost as if you were rubbing skin to skin against each other. A pleasurable shiver running across your spine, and you allow yourself to close your eyes for just a moment, fighting between giving in to your desires or stopping yourself from letting this go any further; it was clear which side of you was winning over, as your hunger for that something more was becoming impossible to ignore. You soften your grip on his wrist and your dagger against his throat, and that’s all he needs to gain back dominance over you, flipping you back under him and seizing your wrists to pin you down the same way you had him only seconds ago.

“Now,” he says, “this is much better, don’t you think?”

“Oh you prick,” you groan, fighting to free yourself from his grip on you, but he only tightens his grasp around your wrists. His immortal strength beats yours and your hand twists under his crushing grip, making you finally release your knife.

You curse under your breath for letting yourself be bested by the most annoying member of your party; the one who you had dreamed to put back in his place was now dominating you instead. A mix of anger and shame swirls in your stomach, along with something else that you want to deny, but can’t for the life of you understand.

Your eyes meet his, dark and hungry and so incredibly close to you. His lack of breath is strange in comparison to yours, so heavy that your chest rises with each breath you take, brushing against him. It wasn't a position you were used to, either, and you find yourself liking it more than you thought you would; with his entire body pining against yours, his legs surrounding yours and keeping them closed together, your wrists held strongly above your head; a prey caught by her predator.

You remain unmoving in this position for what feels like an eternity, until he licks his lips, his eyes falling to the space in your neck that was exposed just for him.

He leans into you, his deep voice shooting a warmth straight to your core. “This little game of yours made me quite hungry.”

You gasp when you feel his bulge rubbing against you once more and touching that sweet spot that made you rub your thighs together. 

“Perhaps,” he whispers, “you've grown an appetite of your own, little fox?”

You take a few breaths, "If you wanna feed, be my guest. You…” you sigh, defeated. “You earned it. Just— be quick about it.”

You turn your head aside, looking away and giving him space to feed, only for him to lean back, “Quick? Oh darling, you’re mistaken if you don’t think I won’t draw this out as long as I possibly can.”

He pushes your wrist up above your head where he can hold them both with one hand, while his other hand slides down to your chest, his sharp nails grazing against the curve of your breast. You close your eyes as his hand continues its journey down your navel, and into your pants, rubbing against the moist spot that kept growing in your panties.

“But don’t worry — I’ll make sure we both get our fill tonight,” he growls.

Your hips move of their own accord, wanting more of him and his touch, almost against your own will.

“Greedy, greedy, little fox.” He flashes a toothy smile, “Can't get enough? I'm not surprised.”

Your eyes open back up and you stare at him, frustrated, “Gods, do you ever shut up?”

“You have such a way with words.” He sighs, pulling his hand out of your pants. “You know, it's a wonder we haven't gotten killed because of your social prowess.”

“If you think you’re so much better than me, why don’t you—”

His lips collide with yours into an hungry kiss, one bold enough to shut you right up. A part of you is disgusted, furious, even, that he would push himself onto you, but your body’s reaction betrays you, as you kiss him back with the same intensity. It’s sloppy, his elongated tongue invading your mouth and rubbing against yours, until he bites into it and sucks, letting your crimson hit his lips. 

You moan as you pull back, rolling your tongue around to feel the puncture he made, and he smiles down on you, his teeth tainted by your blood.

“Ah… delicious.”

Something comes over you, a supernatural strength — almost animalistic — and you flip him back around on his back to take control once again. Your dishevelled hair frames your face over him, and he gets to see you panting, teeth bared, with angry eyes towering over him. There's a flash of surprise in his eyes before they take back their lusty look, and his hands fly to your shirt, ripping it open as his nails tear through the fabric as if it were air. Your shirt is quickly discarded, exposing your skin to the cool night air that raises the hairs on your back.

In the frenzy, you give the same treatment to his shirt, using that strength to destroy his clothing and revealing the very muscles you spied earlier in his tent. He raises himself up to meet you where you sat over his hips, his mouth finding yours  and kissing you feverishly as he did before, while his hands work to remove your pants. 

With a grunt from him, you're pushed back on the harsh forest ground where he rips away your trousers, leaving you only with your panties to cover you. You gasp into his mouth, breathing in his cold breath, when the night air that matches his breath hits the thin fabric of your undergarments. The shock of temperature affects you more than you had anticipated, as you are completely soaked from your arousal that had pooled down there since the beginning of the night. Astarion instantly notices it, and laughs ominously.

“Are you still going to deny it now?” He pushes your underwear aside and slides his dexterous fingers between your folds, discovering just how dire your situation is. “Hells, look at how wet you are, just for me.”

His fingers feel good, and fucking Hells you didn’t want to admit it — he was an absolute asshole — but that ship had sailed a while ago, and now you just wanted to know how good he would feel inside you.

“If you still want to feed, you better do it now before I change my mind,” you groan.

“Change your mind?” He scoffs. “I'm afraid that isn't an option. I won fair and square, little fox; now I get to devour you every night.” He flips you around, the sudden roughness of the earthy floor rubbing against your sensitive nipples making you gasp in surprise. You feel him move behind you, and you're not sure how or when it happened, but he must've removed his own trousers as you feel the ghost of his cock hovering just over your entrance. Your heart threatens to burst out of your chest with anticipation, and this feeling goes into your throat when he grabs you by the nape of your hair and pulls you into him, making you arch your back and clearly exposing your neck to him in the process. “Starting tonight.”

Within the same beat, he thrust into you, his hips slamming hard against your skin, and his fangs dive into the crook of your neck, finally taking what is rightfully his.

You cry out at the stabbing pain in your neck, this one much more different than the first time he bit you, as his elongated fangs dive deeper into your neck to draw out more of your life source, and the additional fangs leave more marks into your skin. It hurts and yet, you find your core growing warmer and wetter; between his bite and his reckless thrusting into you, with the added sensation of his initially cool skin getting warm from your blood. His thrusts gain in speed and force, and in that position, there is nothing else you can do but take it.

Even as you try to reach behind you with that last remaining will to have control, to grab his hair and pull him forward, Astarion takes a hold of your arm and pushes back against you, using his entire body weight to hold you firmly against the rough ground, and his hips to slam into your needy, little cunt. With your hair still pulled back, but your wrist now stuck in his grasp, he continues to take his fill of you with no restriction.

“Look at you, finally put in your place,” he growls as he licks up the drops of blood leaking from the fresh wounds in your neck. “Is this what you’ve been desiring all these times your eyes got lost at the sight of my body? What you’ve been dreaming of? To be properly used, like a bitch in heat? Ravaged by a beast?”

You manage to get a few words out between rushed breaths, sneering.

“F— Fuck. Y— You.”

He snickers wickedly, “I guess that answers my question. Don’t worry, pet. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Oh you—”

“Shh now,” Before you can even finish your sentence, his hand quickly moves from your wrist to your mouth, muffling any sounds coming from you. “We wouldn’t want to risk waking our dear friends, now, would we? Unless that’s what you want?” You groan in the palm of his hand and he chuckles. “You depraved little thing. I’ll give you just what you desire.”

His hand previously holding your hair goes down your body to hold your hips in place as he fucks you, and his teeth sink into your shoulder on the other side of your neck. The gesture meant only to keep you steady as he fucks you senseless. With his fangs deep into your skin, his nails cutting the soft skin of your hips and his dick pounding your abused cunt, you scream into his hand as you reach your climax. It’s nerve wracking, mind shattering, and leaves you completely drained. 

With a final push inside you, Astarion’s hips still and he growls into your neck, taking his last sip of you, as he pulses around your inner walls, filling you up with his warm seed. Your muscles fail you, as your body goes limp against the earthy ground, and you barely feel anything else — leaving you almost unconscious. Behind you, Astarion pulls out of you, and a weak moan escapes you as you feel his load leaking out of you.

While you’re recuperating from this treatment, Astarion loses his monstrous features: his nails retract, his pupils go back to those annoyingly charming red ruby eyes, his fangs retract just enough to fit back into his mouth, and he mimics breathing again; now passing as a mortal again.

With the minimal strength you manage to gain back, you push yourself up, and gather the few pieces of clothes that were shredded during your nightly session; tomorrow you would definitely need to find new camp clothes, these were the only ones you had and they were utterly ruined. Thank the Gods everyone else was fast asleep and you’ll be able to walk back to your tent without any remarks.

As you’re about to take your leave, completely disregarding the rogue who looked just as messy as you were, you hear him clear his throat.

“It’s always a pleasure to be doing business with you, my dear. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

You roll your eyes before shooting him a glare. “Don’t push your luck.” Your cheeks still flushed, your hair all over the place, and your form barely clothed, making you not as convincing as you had hoped for. 

You only catch a glimpse of his smirk in response to you as you walk away, and when you catch yourself actually looking forward to it, you tell yourself it's only for the opportunity to put him back in his place. 

Perhaps another white lie to coat your true feelings, but no one needed to know about that.

tag list (comment or message me if you want to be added!): @grimistheangerinmystares @silverfangmarks @roguishcat @nyx-knox @anacdoce @jwera @annnagennnie @angeldarkness95 @marlowethebard @hellethil @frankie-mercury @ariajc79 @lets-just-daydream

[imsryyimlate]

law x anthropologist!reader meeting for the first time?

sure! 👍🏽 i also included her having a health condition, and she has a devil fruit power!

— pairing: law x anthropologist!reader

eating the rock rock devil fruit came with many advantages, especially when it came to your travels. as an anthropologist, you lived for exploring and studying artifacts, particularly the evolution of early medical technology into modern-day.

your powers made excavations effortless: you could dig through dirt, dismantle obstructive rock formations, or even create floating stone staircases to reach inaccessible places.

one day, as usual, you were traveling by yourself, going through a dense forest that was rumored to have an abandoned dig site that you wanted to check out.

unfortunately, you were ambushed by a group of people who saw the jewelry you wore - a necklace, and an amethyst belt rumored for healing properties. many years ago, you were diagnosed with a muscle disorder and amethyst was known as a healing gem. you managed to create the belt and wrapped it around your legs when they weakened, soothing the muscles and accelerate healing.

“hand over the belt and we won’t hurt you.” one man said, pointing to the belt z

you smirked. “no thanks.” kneeling, you slammed two hands against the ground. four rock pillars erupted beneath your attackers, sending them flying. some coughed up blood from the force of the impact.

you were underestimated. it was typical but you were used to it.

you easily fended for yourself, not knowing that in the background you were being observed by the heart pirates, and you caught the attention of their captain, trafalgar law.

when the group ran away scathed from your powers, law slowly emerged from the forest, slowly clapping his hands. you turned around and saw his crew trailing behind him. as you raised your hands waist high, rocks of different sizes emerged from the ground.

“that was a show.” he remarked.

you arched an eyebrow. clenching your fists, the rocks instantly sharpened into lethal spikes.

“high praise from a former warlord of the sea,” you replied. “congratulations for your success regarding the emperors as well, by the way.” you added tilting your head.

law smirked. “it was a team effort.”

“if you don’t mind,” you said, lowering your hands. the spikes crumbled back to the ground, as you continued, “i’d like to continue my work uninterrupted.”

crossing his arms over his chest, law nodded his head. “don’t take too long. i’ll be waiting for you right here.”

“that a threat?” you asked, brushing dirt off your jeans.

law shook his head. “no. it’s a fact.”

“in that case,” you mused, taking a few steps closer, “i’ll see you in a couple hours.”

[yellowsugarwords]

Could you write something where the farmer reader get hurts and the bachelors and bachelorettes? Oh and they are married to the farmer.

YAY I FINALLY HAD THE MOTIVATION TO WRITE WOOOOOO i also love writing angst akjdsnfs let’s GO.

Abigail: Abigail was standing on the porch, overlooking how the sunset reflected off the budding crops when she heard a groan to her left. She snapped her head, her blue eyes widening. “Y/N!” Y/N was limping to the front steps of their shared home, clutching their side. “I fell on some equipment, that’s all,” Y/N said, hoping to wave their partner away, whisking their worries to the side. It didn’t work. The purple-haired woman scoffed, scurrying forward and wrapping one of her arms around them. “Let me help get you inside,” she hushed, hauling them in as quickly - but as safely - as she could. It wasn’t until they were seated on the couch with tea, Abigail ready to tend to the gash on their side, that she started laying into them. “You need to be more careful!” She scolded sweetly, wrapping them up with bandages. “I don’t know what I’d do if you really, really injured yourself. I’d be sick.” Y/N knew she was right. “I know,” they sighed. “I’ll be better.” Abigail, joyfully, gave them a sweet kiss before resuming the task at hand.

Haley: Haley never handled blood well, especially not when it was Y/N’s blood. “Oh my God!” She wailed, watching as they strode in through the front door of their farmhouse, their hand bleeding along the hardwood floors. “What happened?” She was horrified, throwing her magazine onto the coffee table and rushing to their side. She winced at the sight but still gingerly took their bloody hand in between both of hers. “Just missed with the scythe.” “You missed?” Haley was horrified. She scoffed, dropping their hand and waving them to the couch. “Sit. You’re not allowed to work in the field for the rest of the week.” Y/N’s jaw dropped, but Haley lifted a finger. “You’re not responsible enough to handle sharp things. Now sit. I’m going to bandage you up.” Y/N smiled softly, obeying and taking a seat where she had previously been. “Yes, ma’am.” They said softly, finding her determination and sudden take-charge attitude charming.

Leah: Leah was taking a break from carving, allowing her fingers to relax and stretch on the deck when she heard a yelp from somewhere in the field. She immediately shielded her eyes from the sun, scouring to see where her partner was; amid their sunflowers. She dropped her water bottle and darted over. “Y/N!” Leah didn’t need to know what happened to act as swiftly as possible. She helped prop them up, bringing them into the house and laying them down on their shared bed. “I’ll be right back, okay?” She said softly, squeezing their hand quickly out of worry. She was back before Y/N could feel their fingers grow cold. Y/N had to hand it to Leah, she was quick. She got the job done. “Lay still,” she said softly, unrolling the bandage. Any moment she could, her hand found theirs. “Deep breath. Once this is done, I’ll make you some hot chocolate.” There were lots of things that Y/N loved about their wife, and one of them was that when she was worried, she didn’t take no for an answer.

Maru: Maru was always quick to take charge in situations that required it. This was one of those times. As she was sitting in the front yard, tinkering away at one of her latest inventions, she heard Y/N rustle by and head toward the front door. “Hey you, how were the min-” Her voice faded as she turned, finally catching a glance of her spouse. She muttered something under her breath - something of varying concern - and scurried to their side. “Come with me,” she said, guiding them to sit down. “It was just-” “You can tell me about it after I fix you up.” she insisted, sliding the first aid kit out and popping it open. She didn’t even need to look at it to know where everything was. Maru began treating their arm automatically as if it were pure reflex. “Okay, deep breath in.” She said, shaking her head. “You need to start taking me with you. You can’t be trusted by yourself.”

Penny: Penny would be sitting in her corner of the farm, reading, when a sharp inhale would snag her attention. Y/N had accidentally sliced themselves on their sickle, ripping one of their hands open. “Y/N?” Penny asked cautiously, voice wavering. She stood, rushing into the field to their side. She squealed the instant she saw the blood. “Oh my God!” She said, rushing to take their hand in both of hers. “We have to get this fixed, now!” she insisted, guiding them into the farmhouse. She began running around like a chicken with her head cut off, desperate to stop the bleeding and tend to her love. “I thought you promised me that you would be more careful,” she said softly, not wanting to scold them too much. It didn’t feel fair or right. She couldn’t stay mad at them for too long.

Emily: Emily had a bad feeling when she woke up that morning. As she always did when she had a gut feeling, she was hesitant and slow all day. That was until Y/N yelped from outside, startling her from her sewing project in their living room. It was just after noon, and finally, just as she was trying to distract her anxious mind, there it was: confirmation. She rushed outside, first aid kit already in hand, darting toward them in the middle of the field. “I got caught in the-” Emily immediately hushed them, taking their hand into both of hers. She examined the wound quickly, assessing and immediately cracking open the kit. “I had a bad feeling about today. I knew something was going to happen.” Frowning, she began prepping a cotton pad with the disinfectant. “I’m sorry I didn’t do more to prevent this.” Y/N chuckled through the pain, finding her genuine apology charming. “You couldn’t have changed this,” Y/N reassured her gently. The two had a moment, tender and warm before Emily got back to work. “I’m doing this just until we get into the house. Then, I’m doing a better job at this.”

---

Alex: Y/N stumbled down on their front porch, their right leg extended. It was gashed open, bleeding, and immediately caught Alex’s attention. He was stretching in the evening sun, getting ready for a quick workout to end the day, when he spotted the scene. “Woah, woah, woah,” he said, immediately running over. “Y/N? What happened?” Y/N could only groan in pain. Without waiting a moment longer, he knelt to better see and speak to them. ”Hey hey,” Alex said softly. His voice was just above a whisper, as though he was trying to keep himself steady with his voice. “Come with me, here,” he eased Y/N onto their feet, leaning against his side, channeling their weight off of their injured leg. “Let’s get you inside. I don’t want you to hurt yourself anymore.” Y/N could taste the worry dripping off of his voice. They listened, obeying whatever command he had in an attempt to help them. “Sorry,” he mustered as he fumbled through the first aid kit. “I’ve never done this before.” Y/N had to admit that it was adorable that he was even trying. He was doing a perfect job.

Elliot: Elliot was reading on the front porch, flipping through one of his latest library finds, when he heard a groan. Glancing over his cover, he pictured his partner, clutching their wounded side, wobbling on shaky legs to the front door. Elliot dropped his book, allowing it to fumble closed without a bookmark, and he rushed to them. “Y/N, what happened?” His voice was breathless and anxious, and his hands immediately found Y/N’s face. Y/N was ushered inside, Elliot’s hands and arms guiding them in their injured state. “Come, sit, let me help.” The worry was written all over his face and woven into his voice. Y/N hated seeing him upset. “I’m--” Elliot hushes them, easing them into a chair. “I’m going to go get the first aid kit. Then, I’m making you tea.” Y/N smiled warmly through the pain at his sweet gestures.

Harvey: Harvey was inside when he heard a loud yelp from outside. He immediately dropped everything and ran for the door. “Y/N-” Their name was barely out of his mouth when he swung the door open and there stood Y/N, clutching their arm, blood collecting on their stained wood deck. “Oh my God, come in.” It was moments like this that Y/n was thankful they had married a doctor. Harvey eased them down onto the couch, frowning as he listened to them groan. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll try and be fast.” After grabbing a medical kit, he quickly took to work, stitching them up as best as he could. “I’m sorry, I can’t hold your hand as I’m working.” He said gingerly. “I’m sure it hurts.” Seeing his sadness at needing to hurt them further was oddly sweet to Y/N. His tender care was exactly what they needed.

Sam: “Oh sh-” Sam cut himself off before he said anything further, darting forward to help Y/N. He launched himself off of the couch - where he had been sitting and fiddling on his guitar - waiting for Y/N to come in for dinner. They were stumbling toward the farmhouse, clutching their gashed elbow. “Y/N, what the hell happened?” He didn’t give them a chance to answer, sweeping them into his arms and guiding them through the front door. One arm was wrapped around Y/N protectively, the other holding the door open to usher them through. “Sit down,” he said, voice wavering with anxiety. He sat them down on the couch and floundered through the kitchen, making clatters and clanks whenever he went. “I know the first aid kit is around here somewhere!” While sloppy with his actual medical care, Sam always shined in his genuine concern. “I’m going to need you to be more careful out there,” he mumbled, slightly distracted by attempting to place the bandaid straight. “Otherwise, I’m going to need to be the one in the fields. I don’t want to risk you getting hurt.”

Sebastian: Sebastian was enjoying the evening sun, watching as it set in the corner of the garden when his eyes widened. He spotted Y/N awkwardly opening the door to the house, a cluster of red staining the doorknob as they went. Urgently, he dropped the wrench he was holding and raced for the door. “Y/N?’ He asked, swinging it open. He caught them at the kitchen sink, their bleeding hand about to be placed underwater. His stomach sank, and he ran to them, holding one of their cheeks in his palm. He frowned at their tears. “Follow me,” he hushed, ushering them inside. He brushed the loose strands of hair behind their ears as he whisked them away. As he sat, gingerly wrapping their gashed hand with bandages, his eyes were almost too trained on their face rather than on their wound. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I just want to make sure I’m not hurting you.” That was the last thing he ever wanted to do. After wrapping their hand, he pressed a warm kiss to their forehead. “I’ll be right back. I’m bringing you some water and a snack.” He always knew exactly what they needed to feel better.

Shane: Shane didn’t utter a word when he saw Y/N slowly approaching, clutching a bleeding gash on their forehead. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. “Y/N, what happened? Are you okay?” Y/N groaned in response. “No,” was all they could muster. Shane wrapped his arm around them, bringing them inside the house. “Come on, we need to get you fixed up.” She was never great at being gentle and tender and fumbled his way through the first aid kit to place a messy bandaid over their wound. Despite the stress, YN still smiled and squeezed his hand thankfully. “Hopefully, I won’t have to get too used to doing this,” he teased with a small smile on his pink cheeks.

━━━━━━ 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜!! ₊˚⊹ 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫   ♡   𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐬 𝐢 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫

[fanged-fanfics]

Hi, I would like to request Mk with a fem! Reader who is mean for him. This guy is TOO sweet he really needs a partner that can yell at people for him. How about a short fic? (It's been a minute since I've requested anything from anyone)

-🐙

💛🍜 Defending the Successor — MK x Fem Reader Drabble 🍜💛

Genres: Fluff, Romance || she/her pronouns for reader, he/they pronouns for MK || No warnings needed

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆˚｡⋆୨🍜୧⋆˚｡⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖

It wasn't often that you got to do deliveries with MK, as he always seemed to jump around so much, and you had responsibilities of your own. But Pigsy tended to insist. He knew how easily distracted his son was, and you seemed to ground them. One day your schedule was clear enough to finally agree.

MK was happily chatting to you as he drove the noodle cart, the two of you making it to one of the few stops they had left for this shift. "And theennn Monkey King showed me all the stuff he's collected! He's got so much junk, but it's all really shiney". You chuckled as you nodded "Eyes on the road, hun" you reminded. "Right," MK said, pulling up to a stop a few feet from the house. He got out first, scrambling to open the cart door for you. You gave him an appreciative smile as you took their offered hand to get out. He held your hand tightly, his other hand carrying the delivery bag. "So, yeah! That's basically how my first week with Monkey King went" he wrapped up, before knocking on the door. A very unimpressed man opened it from the other side.

"Finally, you're here" the customer drawled irritably. MK raised an eyebrow, tilting their head a little "Oh- yeah, traffic was kinda bad today. But I made it within the time!" They replied, holding out the bag. The customer frowned, snatching the bag out of his hands. "This better be good then" he grumbled, opening up the box. After letting him look through it for a bit, MK spoke to the customer. "Soooo anyways, that'll be-"

"I'm not paying for this" the customer interrupted. MK blinked. "Uh... I don't know what to tell ya, guy, but you gotta pay for the food". "It's practically late, I'm not paying for you to be able to slack off" the man replied. MK wilted a tad. They knew they had a problem with being off task, but by his standards he'd been doing better recently. "Well, I still gave it to you, so". The customer scoffed. "Then go tell your boss you didn't do it fast enough" he said, attempting to close the door then and there. Before he could, he felt something stopping it. He looked down, seeing your shoe holding his door from closing.

"I think you owe him something" you said firmly. The customer rolled their eyes "I'm not-". "I'm not asking" you cut off. "He worked hard to come here and deliver this to you. He did it as on time as he could, and there's not a thing wrong with the meal". You nudged the door open, giving the customer a hard stare "so pay up". The man groaned, but pulled out a fistful of money from his pocket and held it out. You took it from him, before handing it to MK. "Enjoy your meal" you said flatly before closing the door on him. Once that was done, you sighed, relaxing again as you stood beside MK. "You didn't have to do that" the successor said with a small chuckle, walking with you back to the cart.

"You shouldn't let people walk over you like that, hon" you said to him, taking his hand like they'd done earlier "I know you like being the happy-go-lucky hero, but sometimes you gotta be a bit tougher than that. You deserve better". MK gave a small smile before nodding. He brushed his hair back with his free hand and said dramatically, "Would you like me more if I was a rebel, then? A real bad guy with a even worse attitude?". You chuckled, pecking his cheek so his faux serious expression melted away "I like you as how you are, MK. You're very sweet. But don't let that mean you get trampled on". "Got it" MK replied determinedly as they opened the door for you once more.

After you got in, MK gave you a cheek kiss "Thank you, though. For helping out back there". "It's no problem" you replied, ruffling his hair. He smiled and turned on the tunes to the radio, cranking up the volume for you two as you began heading off to the next stop as the sun started setting

[naturaldreamer]

requesting dust for the don't imagines

Of course! Thank you for the request! ♥

~

Don’t imagine sitting on Dust’s bed while his skull is on your lap. You’re currently massaging his skull and his sockets are closed, his breathing even.

You’re pretty sure he fell asleep twenty minutes into the massage, but you didn’t have the heart to stop since he looks so peaceful while he’s resting.

Dust clearly needs it due to the dark circles under his sockets.

Don’t imagine watching him for a while before bending down and kissing the top of his skull, doing your best to convey good and loving intentions.

You bring your head back up, but a hand stops you from going too far and cradles the back of your head. Your eyes snap open to be greeted by a pair of red and blue eye lights.

No words are exchanged between you two as you stare intently at one another.

You can practically feel your heart beating against your chest.

Don’t imagine Dust bringing you down and pressing his teeth against your soft lips, a growl leaving him as you press more into the kiss.

All that happens between you two are soft words, massages, and kisses that would make even a hardened monster grow lax and comfortable around their partner.

[yayasvalveplay]

Bee getting sparked with seeker bitties by the trine

Idw continuity

"Come on. We can talk about this." Bee staited grabbing at the wall. Trying to find the door he had been backed into. But turning his helm only slightly, he got to see that the door was acually on his left and not right. But that is really all it took for his arms to be grabbed, pinned to the side before his mouth was being ravaged by Thundercracker.

Bee moaned into the kiss, allowing the blue seeker to devour him. Compleatly forgetting about the other two in the supply closet with them.

"Cracker, move, it's my turn." The voice of Skywarp said desperately. Pushing the mech in question out of the way to instead plug his tongue down Bumblebee's throat. Pulling the small yellow bot closer, rubbing their modesty panels together.

So lost in the heat that was building, Bumblebee didn't even struggle when picked up, wrapping his legs around the purple seekers waist so he wouldn't accidently fall.

The sound of modest panels opening had Bee pulling away, trying to regain himself and his senses, because there was a reason he was trying to get away. And that reason was.

"Come now, little bug. Open up for us. Promise we'll make you feel good." Starscreams voice said from besides him, kissing and suckling his neck on one side, while Thundercracker did the same to the other.

Rut. These three were in a rut cycle, and had chosen him as their carrier. He could of been fine if it was just one of them. But all three!? Now that's stretching it a bit on what he thinks his body is capable of.

Thundercrackers servos went wandering, all the way down to his still closed valve and spike. He rubbed at the closed valve pannel, trying to trick it into opening. But Bumblebee stayed strong. He was not going to give in.

Well until Starscream bit down on his neck, Skywarp bucked into him, and Thundercracker teased at wires in his inner thighs. His panels slid opened, and before he could protest, Thundercracker was already at his valve, three fingers roughly going in and out, and his tongue. Oh frag his tongue was doing wonders on him.

Bumblebee tried fighting it, tried getting off of Skywarp, but his arms were firmly wrapped around his back and under his aft, squeezing it.

Lubricant dripped down from his stuffed valve, Thundercracker would follow it with his tongue, before he was right back at its sorce. Frag he would not last long like this.

"O-ok fine. You three win! Just, put your spikes in me already!" A pause, no noise happened for a while. It made Bumblebee think he had said something wrong. But no, he was being lifted from the wall, and into another pair of strong arms.

Starscream nibbled at the cables in his neck, allowing Thrundercracker to continue fingerings and eating him out as he layed between the red and purple seeker.

Only when he overloaded for the first time, did Thundercracker pull away, allowing the other two, to take his place but with their spikes. Double penitrating him.

Bumblebee through his helm back in pleasure, a static scream filled the air as the two seekers rubbed at all his nods, bumping against his ceiling nod and his gestation chamber.

"Come, open up for us Baby yellow. Let us spark you up." Skywarp growled. Pulling at leg cables, to make Bumblebee see stars. "You'd be so cute filled with our bitties. All full and round,, unable to walk. We'd have to carry you everywhere. Or just keep you on one of our spikes, so you have a constant flow of transfluid to build the sparklings." Starscream said, moving faster along side Skywarp, both very ready to spill inside.

And for once, Bumblebee didn't struggle, letting his gestation chamber open, and be filled to the brim with the seakers transfluid.

Only, they were not done, oh no far from the truth. As when Skywarp pulled out, Thundercrackers spike found its home alongside Starscreams spike. Bumblebee didn't even get time to rest before they were at it again. Thrusting inside, while Skywarp took his place underneath the three of them, licking at Bee's stretched out valve.

He truely wasn't going to last long.

--------

"I'm blaming all three of you." Bumblebee growled, wrapped up in blankets. His mate's near him, rubbing at his still very small, not even there bump. But he was sparked, the bastard have been having a field day the moment they realized their bee was carrying.

"Now, now Bee, that's no way to talk to your sire's" Starscream tutted at him like he was a child.

"I will bite your spike off if you come near me Starscream."

"I'd like to see you try."

Famous last words.