#shadowlord x reader

(IMG) Wanted a taste of Skips.

Skips eager for your touch.

Grinding on Skips.

Watching Skips become a mess beneath your touch.

Taking Skip's load down your throat.

Skips loves the feeling of your cunt hugging him so tight.

Skips grinding his aching cock between your thighs.

A whiny, vocal Skips.

Skips turning into putty in your hands.

Riding Skips. He loves the way you move above him.

Skips watching you take all of him makes him melt.

Hitting that same spot inside of you to the point of overstimulation will always make Skips cum.

Skips filling you and watching his cum spill out.

You wanted to wear a nice set to fluster Skips, but it seems that he was easily entranced.

Skips loves the way you moan.

The dead of night was your domain.

The night owl within you see it as your dark salvation.

Waking from your daylong rest, night had now crept in.

The lanky human figure seated on the side of your bed waited for you to see him.

"Happy birthday my dear penumbra~"

Your sleepy smile had his soul tremble with anticipation. "Thank you."

His charcoal lips litter your face with tender pecks.

"This is for you."

Hearts swelled up in your eyes.

You wanted to cry tears of joy.

For in his hands, his present to you —

A plush chibi doll of his former monster form.

"I started working on it on the side for weeks. The theater troupe helped me out with the cloth, sewing and stuffing." He shyly explained, wringing his painted fingers.

Nervous at how you'll respond gets reassured at how you lite up.

You immediately nuzzle and squeeze the doll tightly, dotting smooches all over that cute skull face. "I love it. And you. All of you~"

He pouted, unable to not feel envious seeing you fawn over who he used to be.

That all gets swayed easily as you hug him around his shoulders, pulling him down with you, his airy chuckles intermingling with your giggles.

"The Shadow Lord lives to please his lady~"

His warm realized form tops yours, his long curly raven hair tickles your face, as he smiles endearingly at you and his nose nuzzles yours.

"Anything for you."

His pale human face burned bright with rosey amor.

"All for you."

His eyes rippled with light as you both lay on your bed, his knees brushing yours through the tears in his tight black jeans.

"And only you."

The chibi plush pinned in between each other's chests.

"It'll keep me company when you're away." You whisper in confidentiality.

Moonlight peaked in through the gap between the curtains.

"Then I'll make up for it in every way that I can." His devotion seeps into his voice.

"You already have. By being here. Living together. And I don't just mean in this house." Your eyes droop with drowsiness as you curl into his warm form.

"And I've never felt more free." He lays on his back, gently laying your head on his chest. His heartbeat lulling you easily.

He was used to being up all night and resting through the day, just like you.

But for now, you two laid there, laxed and comfy, nestled together, spending those hours of your birthday snuggling with your beloved.

Two cute Lords of Darkness all to yourself.

Not a bad way to celebrate.

Skips had long grown accustomed to being alone before you received the dateviators. Sure, there were many other objects and concepts in the house, but with Skips being a literal shadow, he was confined to a completely different world than the rest. It didn’t feel much like confinement to him, though. Skips enjoyed the darkness. It was the loneliness that came with it that he could do without. For as long as he could remember, Skips navigated the house by flitting from room to room like a ghost, waiting for the lights to flick off, or the curtains to be drawn shut. He was only able to move freely at night, when the house seemed to shut down. Maybe he’d run into Timothy staying up late to clean his time pieces, or one of the workaholics like Hoove or Holly, though they were usually too busy to talk for long.

In the daylight, he observed what went on in the house using the sounds that traveled through the shadows. Listening to the arguments, games, and conversations that the other objects engaged in during the day was entertaining enough most of the time. At least until Skips would remind himself that he knew more about these objects than they did about him. He missed what it feels like to have someone know you. To have someone want to know you. He remembers being intrigued by you when you first moved in. You were a new face, a new voice. Skips welcomed the sudden change.

Before long, he found that he loves listening to you more than anyone else. He loves how you think out loud, your talks with yourself are somehow structured like an actual conversation. Every now and then, he’ll catch himself talking back to you like you’ll hear him. In a most recent instance, you were getting ready to run some errands.

“Wait, am I forgetting something?” You pat down your pockets and double check everything you have with you.

“Your phone’s still in your room.” Skips idly whispered as he studied your inflections from the shadow of the end table in the hall.

“Ah!” You verbalize your realization as you quickly turn on your heel and rush up the stairs. As if you truly heard him. Skips pretended you did as he listened to the door click shut behind you.

The light doesn't stop him from admiring you. From chasing your voice. Skips is usually sure to find a dark spot in the bathroom, maybe behind the sink or in the cabinet so he doesn't miss the sound of you singing in the shower. He’ll camp out in the slim shadows of the dining or kitchen tables when you play music on Rainey. He relishes listening to what you listen to, trying to figure out why you replay certain songs or skip others.

As expected, he only ever sees you in the dark. He thinks you’re beautiful, and it really isn't easy for one's face to leave an impression in the shadows. Skips will try to steal a glance at you as you get in bed or while you’re struggling to find a light switch in the closets. His favorites are those precious occasions when you roll out of bed in the middle of the night, stumbling to the kitchen for a snack or a drink of water, unable to sleep. In those quiet moments when the other objects have likely already winded down for the night, it's just the two of you in the kitchen. Even if you don't realize that you have company, Skips misses being in comfortable silence with someone else.

The first time it happens, it's late at night and you're upstairs in your room. It hasn't been too long since you moved in, and Skips is awake and lost in thought. He hears something, a soft sound gliding through the silence of the shadows. A gasp. He recognizes your voice after pondering it for a moment, you must be having trouble sleeping again. Last he checked, you were reading a book in the lamp light.

But something's different this time. Your voice and your breathing seem slower, more fragile. He hears you draw in a sharp, shaky breath. Followed by a low groan, the bed sheets rustling beneath you. It doesn't take long for Skips to realize what's happening, and his deep flush left his ears buzzing. He’d never judge you for it, it's only healthy. He still feels ashamed for listening so intently to such a private moment, but how could he not? Your languid moans and hushed sighs were honestly adorable.

He indulges a bit. It just gets to be too much, the delicious gasps and moans tumbling from your lips now paired with faint wet sounds punctuating each stuttering breath. Skips, from the guise of his shadows, listens to you work yourself to completion while imagining it all. He can practically see the sweet faces you make when you hit the right spots and visualize you plunging your fingers through your folds, arching your back against the mattress. He palms his own hard-on through his pants in a rhythm that matches the rise and fall of your moans echoing towards him. Skips whispers your name helplessly as he ruts his clothed, leaky, cock into his fist while fantasizing about what his name would sound like on your pretty lips. He’s thought about that many times before, but not like this.

He lurches forward when you squeal, his chest heaving at the sound. The darkness around him feels warm and soft. Dark, smoky tufts of hair fall over Skips’ eyes as he bites his lip, using his free hand to push his shirt up a bit, seeking relief from the sweat pooling at his core. He grits his teeth together, fighting back his moans and sighs to avoid them drowning out your own. He wont last long like this, his eyes are half shut and he's laying on his back now. The hand that was clutching at his shirt moves to clamp onto the other one at his crotch. Skips throws his head back as he shamelessly humps his shaking fists, and the only thing in his mind is you.

He cums first. His chest shakes as your smooth, sexy, voice works him through the aftershocks. A wet spot seeping through his jeans and soaking his palm. Skips rushes to lower his pants, his wet cock springing free, before wrapping his fingers around himself and rubbing his sensitive tip. He tortures himself as your voice grows louder, your breathing more rapid. He nearly cums all over again when you finally let out one last shattered groan, indicating your climax.

Skips now waits for these moments with bated breath.

Whether day or night, he keeps an ear out for you. He memorizes the rhythm of your breathing and the intensity of your voice; your pleasure is music to his ears. When he touches himself, he imagines your soft hands running over his body, your beautiful voice telling him how good he feels under your palms. Sometimes, he overhears gossip from some objects- mostly those in the bedroom and bathroom- about how you like to tease yourself. Sometimes, he catches himself envying them. He admittedly wonders what you look like coming undone in the daylight. He imagines you writhing in bed or pressed against your shower door. He doesn't watch you though. When you turn off the lights in your bedroom and fumble around yourself in the darkness, it takes an insane amount of will for Skips to refrain from basking in the sight of you. There just seems to be something more special about losing himself in your erotic echoes. Maybe one day, though.

Teddy

he's one of the characters i think would definitely agree without hesitation. the moment you asked he smiled that sweet smile of his and agreed.

he's got all the perfect snacks, mostly comfort food. he has perfect tea, cute sandwiches he made and cut into whatever shape you want, and whatever you ask for.

Mateo was also very happy to provide the fluffiest blankets you could need.

you guys walk into the living room and he gets you all comfy on Koa whilst he goes to the kitchen to grab said snacks.

I hope you like Disney, because that's what he's picking once you tell him he can pick.

any Disney film, though he had his eye set on the older ones like Cinderella or The Lion King, or whichever one you watched growing up.

but if you showed any disinterest in a Disney film, he's asking you if you wanna pick. once you insist he just chose a different movie, he would nod and happily start playing Paddington 2 on Telly.

You two were cuddled next to each other the whole time, eating the food and drink he made whilst he occasionally kissed the top of your head since he thought you were just so adorable.

once the movie was over, you two dozed off together on the couch, his arms holding you with you all cozy against his chest.

he's so sweet it sickens me.

Dirk

when you asked for a movie night, he agreed but he did ask that it wasn't anything angsty or sad, like the notebook or some shit. especially not the notebook. which ofc u agreed.

when you two head to the living room, he has a blanket under his arm and a bag of Doritos in his hand.

he sits on the couch with you, draping the blanket over you whilst he was already kissing your face and he asking what movie you'd pick.

he was already so cozy draped over you, you figured maybe drinks weren't totally needed this time..

tho Harper was watching from the laundry room, about to start yelling due to jealousy that she shouldn't even feel. then dorian decided to lock her in the laundry room so you two could have your moment.

once you told him you wanted him to pick the movie, he thought for a sec before nodding, reaching for the tv remote and flicking through the streaming services on telly. if you told him to do it, he 100% would.

he ended up picking the Avengers movie. then after the first one he made you both watch every movie they made after that one. he stopped at Avengers Infinity War because you'd both already been there for SO. LONG.

you two were comfy on the couch the whole time, he was deeply invested in the movies. Telly agreed to play them in order after the first one stopped so he didn't have to keep grabbing the remote.

if your a girl, you fucking BET he had his head on your chest the whole time, only actually happy when you were holding onto him.

he also got a bit frustrated whenever he'd notice you weren't also watching. but if you fell asleep then he'd let you rest.. tho the moment something exciting happens he's shaking you awake to watch how cool it is.

you two ended up passed out afterwards, him holding onto you. he stirred anytime you took your hands off him.

fcking mommy issues bro.

Harper

she beamed the moment you offered to have a movie night, nodding whilst she was already dragging you to the living room. she kept insisting it would be such a cute moment together!

she sat down on the couch and asked you to go get the snacks whilst she got stuff set up there, and you agreed.

once you came back, you found her wrapped in a fluffy blanket whilst jabbing the tv remote to find a good movie. telly didn't love the jabbing, but he didn't say anything since you came back in.

you sat down with her, and she giggled and put her head on your shoulder. she out the blanket over you too, and you noticed what movie she decided on.

turns out, unlike dirk, she wanted a sad movie. and y'know how Dirk said he really didn't want the notebook? yeah thats because she always watched it during their movie nights.

so yes, she picked the Notebook.

she's the type of girl that cries every time she watches it btw. about halfway in she's sobbing, runny mascara staining her cheeks as she had a tub of ice cream in her lap, the spoon in her mouth as she held onto you.

regardless on if you cried or not, she doesn't notice since she's busy sobbing into your shirt.

ok, so it didn't turn out wholesome like you expected, but she was really cuddly after so its a win anyway.

Skips

ok so your past his big shadow form, your dating tiny emo boy now

and when you asked, he was more excited than expected. he got to spend more time with you! you wanted to spend more time with him! how awesome was this!?

he asked that you turned all the lights off and closed all the curtains, which you did without question. so like, now the house is almost pitch black except for a few things like the thermostat glowing in the hall and the soft glow from Telly. but even then Skips turned the brightness down on him.

he was already on the couch by the time you were done, snacks and drinks on the coffee table. he almost blended in with the darkness of the house if it wasn't for the yellow blush on his face.

you both got comfy on the couch together, his hands not once leaving your body as he scrolled through movies.

he picked Annabelle as the movie, since he wanted to seem cool and edgy. but with shadow engulfing the both of you, and how scary Annabelle was? oh yeah you were worried.

the whole time you were holding him, your grip tightening anytime you got scared. you had your face in his chest and everything.

and him? he wasn't scared, at least that's what he showed. you felt how he jumped anytime something happened, and saw how his eyes widened when it built suspense.

after the movie, you guys cuddled whilst he kept telling you nothing was going to come out of the shadows and kill you. not with him around. you appreciated that, and you were less scared with every kiss he gave you.

A | Affection: How do they show love? Are they touchy, verbal, or more subtle? He is insanely needy once he opens up to you. Hold you? His shadows are wrapping all around you any chance he can. Endlessly spouting angsty poetry about how much he loves you? This boy does it in his sleep. Will he watch you while you do anything around the house to keep you safe? Of course. Is it creepy? Maybe, but he means well by it, promise!

J | Jealousy: Do they get jealous? How do they handle insecurity or attention? Skips gets jealous easily but he doesn't tell you when he does. It makes him feel bad when he gets jealous over things as simple as you thanking the other dateables when they help you around the house. You can always tell whenever he gets jealous though by the way all the shadows in the house try to surround you more than they normally do.

N | Nicknames: Do they call their partner petnames? What Nicknames (petnames) do they give their partner? Obviously Skips calls you penumbra. He would also call you his life and his lover.

P | Protection: How protective are they? How do they protect their partner / would like to be protected? Very protective. Checks the entire house over constantly to make sure nothing is trying to hide in the shadows with the intent to harm you. Would turn you into shadows with him if he could to keep you safe with him forever.

Q | Quiet moments: How are they during quiet moments with their partner? Is it a peaceful silence or do they make it awkward somehow? Skips is long used to being in silence with you before you got the dateviators. He feels no different about it after you get the dateviators.

S | Smooches: What are they kisses like? Where do they kiss their partner? Where do they like to be kissed? He'll kiss you where he can get his lips. Will also tell you that whenever the shadows caress you it's him kissing you. Kisses you like it'll be the last time he ever gets to every time. Adores it when you kiss him on his hands the most. He loves it wherever you kiss him don't get it wrong. But there's something special whenever you two are rp'ing with him in his Shadowlord form and you kneel down to kiss the back of his hands in worship.

U | Unwinding: How do they like to relax with their partner? How can their partner help them relax after a hard day? A very big fan of parallel play with his partner—with or without the dateviators on. He'll also rp with you if it helps you relax.

Y | Yearning: Who misses the other the most? Can they be away from their partner for long? This man is a yearner. He isn't shouting it to the rest of the house or anything in that manner. But the shadows always seem to stretch closer to you when you walk by, no matter how long it had been since you last talked.

The candles have burned low, dripping wax over their own stubs. Shadows tangle along the dining room’s edges, flickering in the bay window’s glass. You’re slumped at the table, head pillowed on your folded arms, half-lulled by the hush outside and the faint, sourceless chill blooming beneath the floorboards. You blink. A shiver gnaws up your spine. The shadows have grown teeth.

Something thickens in the air—heavy, oppressive, but not unwelcome. You know this presence, this pull, even before the darkness moves. It’s him.

A strange ripple distorts the candlelight. Darkness condenses, congeals, then towers—immense, ribs stark beneath a skin of rolling, writhing shadow. Clawed hands, spindly and monstrous, flex in the gloom. Two jagged horns scrape near the ceiling, casting pronged silhouettes across the wallpaper. His face is a muzzle, long and predatory, bone-bright teeth fixed in a grin that’s all threat and delight. His eyes catch the dimness—glowing with white, terrible light. All the air seems to bend toward him.

You try to sit up, and his laughter floods the room, hollow, vibrating in your bones. “Fwa ha ha ha! Has my penumbra tired themself out?”

Your thoughts flicker. You—player character, survivor of a hundred dialogue trees—wonder if you’re dreaming, or if this is the part where you choose:

[Say something brave] “I’m not scared of you.” [Say something honest] “You’re…bigger than I remember.” [Say nothing, just stare.]

You manage: “You know, you could warn me before you do the whole horror-movie entrance thing.”

His claws curl, a shadowed hand dragging across the table—fingers impossibly long, leaving frost where they graze the wood. He’s too big, too vast for the space, his body bleeding into the corners, shoulders hunched, every breath a new billow of mist and darkness. You feel tiny, insignificant—and the idea sets your skin buzzing.

He leans close, his chest a wall of chitinous, ribbed shadow, the points of each bone glowing faintly like distant stars. The scent is cool, sharp, like ancient stone and thunderstorms.

“So small. So fragile, my penumbra. Let me show you what true darkness can do.”

You shiver again. Not from fear. The size of him—his claws could span your skull, his arms wrap twice around your body. There’s nowhere to run. You don’t want to.

A claw brushes your cheek, impossibly gentle. The tip traces your jaw, then your throat, as if he’s mapping you for later use. Your thoughts fragment:

He could snap me in half. He won’t. He could swallow me whole. I want him to try.

His voice pours over you like cold velvet: “You tremble, penumbra. Are you ready to be…devoured?”

The shadows beneath the table writhe—twilight-smoke tendrils creeping up your calves, curling possessively around your ankles, your knees, your thighs. They lift you, not roughly, but as if you weigh nothing at all. The chair topples away. You dangle—minute, weightless, helpless—cradled in his elegant arms of darkness.

His huge hand cups your head, claws sifting through your hair with a touch that’s both reverent and claiming. You realise you’re making noise; a caught, breathless sound.

“Making such sounds already?”

He tilts your chin, his touch spanning the entire line of your jaw. His teeth flash, sharp and cruel and hungry.

Your heart’s pounding, every nerve shot through with static. The tendrils press you against his chest—your entire body dwarfed, stark ribs pressing into you, cool shadow leaking through your clothes, under your skin. His inhuman anatomy is everywhere: claws, ribs, horns, shadows, a mass of living, writhing night.

His genitalia—if it could be called that—forms from the pulsing, shifting dark below his waist. A thick, black appendage, swirling and insubstantial, but solid where it matters, pushes between your legs. It splits, wraps, presses, teases, testing your limits. The shadows lap at your skin, icy and tingling, curling around your hips, urging your thighs apart. His darkness explores you, mapping every trembling inch—tracing along the seam of your body, circling, coaxing you open with careful, deliberate intent.

You feel the weight and promise of him, immense and implacable, nudging at your entrance—a cold, breathless pressure that makes you ache with anticipation. He moves at a glacial pace, as if savouring your smallness, the way your body yields beneath him. The head of that shadowy appendage presses in, parting you, the sensation unlike anything flesh could give: slick and crisp, a stretch that’s all at once numbing and electric. He pauses, letting you feel every inch as you slowly, inexorably, accommodate him.

He does not rush. The shadows ripple along your skin, mocking, massaging, as he inches deeper—each fraction filling you wider. You whimper, lost between terror and awe, gasping as the shadow pushes inside—cool as mist, thick as nightmare, impossibly filling. You can’t see the end of it; you’re not sure it has one. The darkness seeps into you, stretching you open, marking you with every relentless thrust. The pleasure crests, hot and dizzying in your chest, as you realise how completely he fills you—how tiny you are in his grasp, how perfectly you fit around his endless shadow.

Your voice cracks: [Choose to submit] “Please…” [Beg for more] “I can take it, I want all of you—” [Try to tease him] “Is that all you’ve got?”

You manage a broken, desperate, “Don’t stop. Please—”

He laughs, delighted, triumphant.

“Is that all you can take, little penumbra? I thought you wished to be consumed.”

His shadow writhes inside you, around you, filling every space—physical and otherwise. Your vision flickers: every nerve singing, reality shrinking down to his touch, his chest, his claws, his massive, behemoth body wrapped around your smaller form.

He moves—with the patience of the dark, pressing more of that cool, living shadow into you until he hits the back of you, stuffing you full in ways that leave you shaking, gasping, clinging to his ribs. Your legs can’t touch the floor. One of his hands—each finger long as your forearm—pins both your wrists above your head with casual strength, holding you open and helpless.

“You look exquisite like this. So puny in my grasp. So willing.”

He muzzles at your throat, rigid bone raking your flesh, shadowy tongue flicking over your pulse point. You can feel the marks he leaves—seeping beneath your skin, inky stains that throb and burn with pleasure.

You are nothing but sensation: the weight of him, the glacial, velvet shadows filling you, his claws tight around your wrists, his teeth grazing your skin, the shudder and stretch as his darkness pulses within.

The world outside vanishes. The candles gutter. There is only blackness. Only Shadow Lord—vast, ravenous, and yours.

“You are mine, penumbra. My companion, my accent shade. Let the world see the mark of true darkness upon you.”