The lasrifle felt good in their hands as they watched heads fly back from pinpoint aiming on their behalf. A trainer of few equal back home wanting to finally bring some meaning to their life in the stars beyond and find more Pokemon. They jumped down from their raised position- their body hit the ground as pain became their companion. No chance to grab one of the balls from their hip… no it would be too cruel to ask them to fight without their guidance. Trembling hands touched the wound bleeding and in pain. Oh their life flashed before their eyes…
The pokemon they've left behind back home… the friends they would never see again… their hands trembled as in their pocket they gripped a diamond… a time diamond from the lair of Dialga. They remember the disappointment in the recruitment office… no trainer who was currently in possession of or was from a family of caretakers for these beasts were strictly forbidden from joining the guard. Dialga seemed to know that and it left their side to allow them to join… no one can control a force of nature like a legendary for long and perhaps it was for the best. But oh… they still remember the tearful goodbye they gave to the master of time and the now broken promise that they would come back home after their term in the guard and be their partner again. They whispered an apology to the air… to Arceus… to Dialga that it was breaking the promise.
——————
The sky choking on smoke and ash and ruin shifted to a bruised purple… it was as if the warp was bruising around reality… to which reality bent and cracked as Dialga leapt through the portal. Time melted around Dialga as it saw all possibilities and choices… and its red eyes moved around before resting where it needed to go.
It ignored everything around them as it glided to where it sensed the diamond. The mortal that had bested them… the mortal that had taken care of them… taken them to see the world again. It floated about them… the mortal was simultaneously dead… dying… hurt… eyes resting on a unmoving… barely moving… reaching out to them body. There were timelines where their human stayed on the planet… timelines where they had no desire to go into the hateful stars. Dialga touched the ground as the mud… bodies… blood… sank beneath its bulk. It should be happy with the knowledge that they were alive then and there… but Dialga was selfish for the here and now… selfish over time… selfish over the time that this being gave them. They were always selfish over that selfless sharing of time that mortals like this gave them… as this mortal… bled… bleeding out on the ground…. silent… pained… whispered breaths.
It bowed its massive head down resting their snout against their stomach… cold… cooling… still warm… as they were still… struggling… petting the side of their face. They lifted their head up and roared. Everyone on the planet could feel it… they could feel the burning of their cells as the God of Time screamed out and forced the hands of time to tick back precious seconds. Ticking Ticking Ticking back till those gentle gloved hands met their face as Dialga's bright red eyes met the face of the mortal that gave their own time to spend with it… smiled up at it. Their mortal was alive again… gentle hands petting the metal on the side of its head. Projectiles faded to dust as they zoomed towards and past the pair but as dust brushed their cheek, Dialga raised their head looking at the side that took their mortal from them and it roared.
It was a roar that echoed across time… as the other side of the field was ravaged as time rushed forward in the future or rushed into the past with explosive energy and force as trees and rocks and other land masses appeared and disappeared… water exploding out as somewhere in time that place was under the liquid… but the end result was the same… all in Dialga's gaze was turned to dust leaving them to focus on their injured… uninjured human.
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Summary: After your conversation with Tharaêl, you realize he said it had been days since he’d last eaten.
Before you two part ways, you make sure to fix that. You learn just a little more about him in the process.
(This takes place directly after the Brothers quest! That quest plus the end of the one prior, Old Wounds, are roughly summarized in this fic. Just a heads up in case you don't want to be spoiled ^^)
Author’s Note: I can't believe I have to say this but I have never used/will never use AI, I just like em dashes!! SUE ME
Check it out on ao3!
You weren’t sure how you managed to earn the trust of such an angsty bastard so quickly, but here you were; sitting across the table from Tharaêl in the very orphanage he grew up in, having now been told nearly his entire life story.
After he’d regressed and disassociated his way into a nap, he woke up not remembering a thing. You suggested talking it through could help. He was quick to disagree, but just as quick to accept the offer… which led you here.
Now, you two sit in silence. It’s hard to know what to say after someone tells you that they were sold by their carer as a child, somehow avoided certain death in an eerily similar fashion to yourself, and then reveals their cynical view on relationships — platonic and otherwise — implying that it’s simply brainless to… care for your peers? Make friends? Fall in love?
That shit was bleak.
It’s probably just as hard for him to come to terms with someone he’d only met about a fortnight ago knowing all of this, you figure. Or anyone for that matter. The current quiet is comfortable in spite of the tense dialogue, though, so you don’t prod further.
It only occurs to you as Tharaêl begins to stand up, insisting the two of you move on until the Father reaches out, that he said it had been days since he’d last eaten.
You aren’t about to suggest that his poor mental state was a result of malnutrition alone. You know that isn’t the reason for it. But you also know it doesn’t help things either. You can’t help but worry about him.
So you say, “Hold on,” reaching into the pack next to your chair in search of some food. You were sure you’d popped half a loaf of bread and some fruit in here while you were on the surface…
“What now?”
Finding the bread, you smile and toss it in his general direction with little warning. A sudden “Heads up!” is all you offer while the food is already mid-air.
“What the fuck is this?”
Still rummaging, you turn your head towards him. “What the fuck does it look like?” you lightheartedly jab. Your fingers find that apple you’d begun to speculate you only imagined bringing, and you toss that to Tharaêl as well. “Eat.”
After a short deliberation, you fish out a bottle of mead, too. You intend to share, but steal the first few sips for yourself.
You can tell from his eyes that he’s confused, but he sits back down anyway. The gears in his hard, bald head are almost visibly turning as he tries to think of a reason to defy you.
You mentally count down from three, and right on cue, he pipes up with furrowed brows, “Do you think I’m fucking stupid?”
One of your own raises in silent question.
“Do you think I need your handouts? Your pity?”
“No,” you cut him off before he can point more fingers. “I think you need food.” You can tell he’s about to argue back, so you add, “Maybe it’s foolish to admit this after everything you just told me, but I consider you a friend. Sooo I care about your wellbeing.” With a firm grip on the bottle’s neck, you slide the mead across the table, repeating more firmly, “Eat.”
What’s visible of Tharaêl’s face softens for a short moment. If you’d blinked, you would have missed it.
He continues to just stare at the food and drink in front of him, though. He looks like he wants to take up your offer.
Then, as you observe the mask covering the majority of his profile, you recall something he said earlier; something about bards not singing about scarred faces, people not being interested in pursuing a man with burn wounds…
Have you ever seen him without a mask before?
You subconsciously tilt your head as you ask, “Do you not want me to see your whole face?”
He continues to be uncharacteristically quiet. Is he embarrassed?
Quietly, cautiously, he replies, “So what if I don’t? What’s it to you?”
You shrug. “I won’t look then.”
Tharaêl’s gaze continues to plainly bore into you. Boredly, almost, as if he thinks you’re just teasing him. To show him you’re not, you flip around in your chair, straddling it with your chest to its back. Your arms lazily rest over the top.
He mumbles something under his breath that you can’t make out, although it sounds slightly louder than usual. Then, you hear the crunch of the bread’s crust.
“Do you usually skip meals?”
“…Yeah.”
Tharaêl can’t see it, but you frown. “Is that Rhalâta-related, or…?”
He sighs. “Mostly, yeah.”
You sigh too, thinking about how you can’t wait to fuck the Father up.
Reaching behind you, you make a conscious decision to bottle your rage up for later. “Can I see the bread?”
When it’s placed in your hand, it feels much lighter; and when you see it, your lips curve upward. Tharaêl’s destroying this thing. Good. He needs all the fuel he can get.
You bite the bread once and pass it back over your shoulder. Speaking with your mouth full, you say “Thanksh,” the crunch of his apple echoing through the room in tandem.
You lean back with your elbows against the table after he takes what little bread is left, tossing it unceremoniously onto the wood with a light thud.
Another sigh. This one sounds gruff. Frustrated. “Are you sure it’s alright for me to take this from you?”
Assuming he was looking, you nod. “What I’m about to say isn’t a brag, but a fact,” you preface, gesturing vaguely with your hand. “I have plenty of access to food on the surface.” Your gesture turns into an upward point. “Can’t feed everyone, but I can at least do you the favor.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Always a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?”
Tharaêl laughs dryly at your comment. Then, you feel a tap on your elbow. You barely turn your head so as to avoid seeing the man in your peripheral — you want to respect his wish for partial anomynity, after all — and are met with the mead in a now ungloved hand.
“Not a fan?” You ask before taking a swig.
He makes a noncommittal noise. Fair enough.
A few beats of silence tick by. You’re not even sure if Tharaêl is chewing anymore, but you won’t rush him out if he’s finished. He deserves to rest.
Hell, so do you.
You rub the back of your neck while turning it side to side.
Something of Tharaêl’s cracks. His knuckles, maybe?
The crackling of the fire is there too, of course, as his words replay in your head.
Hm…
“Hey.” Tharaêl grunts his answer. “Were you talking about yourself before?”
“What?”
“Like, the scars and stuff.”
“Yes.”
“Huh. What do they look like?”
“Disgusting.”
Like it or not, from what you have seen of Tharaêl, you find him quite handsome. You can only imagine the scars making him look even more so.
“Bullshit.” It came off almost dismissively, but your word is earnest.
He exhales as he gets out of his seat. When he appears next to you, your hand creates a barrier.
“Whoa, buddy.”
“What? You want to see my ugly mug so badly, go ahead.” He crouches, and you close your eyes, looking the opposite way. He’s leaning closer than you’d imagined him, so his next words startle you slightly. “I don’t have all day.”
You blindly feel around for his chest before pushing him back a little. “No way,” you insist. “If you don’t want me to see you then I won’t.”
“Why ask so many questions then?”
“What can I say?” you shrug. “I like to be in the know.”
“You know what they say? Curiosity killed—”
You stop him. “Do I look like a fucking cat to you, Tharaêl?”
“No, but I’ll feed you to the dogs out there if you keep this up.”
“What kind of dogs?”
“I don’t know. Diseased ones.”
“Hm. Can dogs get flesh maggots?”
“Not sure.” You can hear a menacing smile in his next few words, “But I know you can.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
Tharaêl breathes out a reluctant chuckle. “You’re fucking annoying, you know that?”
As you nod, all too happy to be a thorn in his side, he takes your hand in his.
Huh?
Shielding your view with the opposite palm, you look down at the scene and watch as he removes your own glove. You let out a low whistle. “Take me out to dinner first.”
“Fuck off. Here.” He brings your hand upwards, placing your fingertips on his face.
This feels awfully intimate. Maybe even a little embarrassing.
Hey, at least you’re not the one being caressed. Therefore this could be… worse? You suppose?
Right?
“This doesn’t hurt?” you ask, pushing your thoughts away as your thumb traces some slight bumps on Tharaêl’s skin. It feels soft, but the texture is rough; maybe even a little strange, if only because you’ve never felt scars this large.
“No more than any other scar, I suppose.”
“Hm.” Your pointer traces down, taking care to avoid his lips as you examine the other side. This cheek feels just about the same. “Cool.”
“Cool?”
“Well it would be weird if I said ‘hot,’ no?”
“Only a little.”
And here you were thinking you’d earned another “Shut up” or “You’re fucking dumb” or something.
You raise a brow. “Really?”
“Yeah...?”
“Cool.” Without missing a beat, you add, “You’re hot.”
“Wow. And you’re still extremely fucking stupid.”
Ah, there it is… you were close enough.
“Thanks.”
“That wasn’t a compliment,” he groans. He’s smiling, though; you can feel it. You give his cheeks a knowing squish with your thumb and forefinger.
“Yeah, yeah.”
A short silence, and you realize the positioning of your hands. You’re holding him by the jaw and chin.
When did that happen?
“Oh.” You yank your hand away. You apologize, “Sorry,” feeling slightly giddy as you laugh out the word.
Tharaêl simply grunts. He stands, walking to the other side of the table again. You open your eyes, and a moment later, he gives you the okay to turn around.
“I’ve eaten and you’ve gotten your fix of asking far too many questions. We’re done here.”
You can tell he’s antsy to get out of the orphanage — or, maybe just away from you — as he hastily whips out a teleport scroll and gets to work.
“Alright then.” You wave while he ascends, beginning to fade away. “See you whenever.”
He doesn’t respond, but over his mask, you could swear you see his eyes crinkle with a smile.
Note: Hi! This is an imagine dealing with self-consciousness. I'm using this blurb as a base for the self-consciousness, I didn't want to go too deep into a specific trait, so I'm using a fictional reason instead. Rhaenyra is referred to as : Aunt, once, because the family tree got too complexe for my brain.
Warning(s): Self-consciousness, mild, but still there. Ambiguous sex for the reader, though more feminine energy... No use of (Y/N). Kinda angst?
Words: 2k238
Original Masterlist
🐉 !Hybrid Masterpost
Baela had always placed a high amount of confidence into her clothing to impose her importance upon the member of her step-mother’s court. Now was a time such as this, too. A supper with reluctant members of the nobility, to keep their loyalty to Rhaenyra as Aegon grew older and her father yet weaker. Baela was getting tired of the multitude of parties and important supper to which she and you were conveyed.
She’d much rather have you all to herself.
Sitting on the couch facing the changing section of the bedroom you both shared, Baela was observing attentively as you presented to her the different clothing options you could be adorned with for the night. Baela got to have the last word, as she would be the one to tore it off of you in the end.
At present, you were showing off a red and black outfit, wich showed of your body in just the way she liked, but wasn’t as ‘showy’ as all the others you’d tried so far. But Baela ad a little pout to her lips as you turned to show her the complete view.
“I much prefer the blue one, dearest…” She told you finally, resting her head on one of her hands, leaning forward as much as her wings let her.
You felt a weight fall to the pit of your stomach. The blue outfit was the most “showy” of them all, with nearly translucent material. And the middle part was practically non-existent. And thus showed the burnt imprint on your skin.
“Very well.” Your grin wavered a little, but you agreed nonetheless. The soft happiness glowing in your eyes faded somewhat.
Baela frowned at that change, her wings rustling against the cushions. It felt as if the warmth of the room suddenly froze, like someone had opened the windows during a harsh winter night. But before she could ask you about anything, you ducked behind the changing screen. Moondancer echoed inside of her head the growling that shook her physically with dread.
Were you saddened by her choice? The blue had a more translucent fabric, and a deeper neckline, but nothing to make you uneasy… usually.
Baela rose from her seat, creeping behind the changing screen with you. ”My lovely Rider, should you prefer this one I will not be cross with you.” she said, keeping a distance between the two of you.
You kept silent, removing the shirt you’d just showed off, back turned, shaking your head. Bael’s frown deepened. Taking a hold of your arm, and tugging softly to make you turn in her direction, she searched your face so that your eyes could meet.
“Tell me.” She asked, barely a sound louder thant a hush, your eyes lowered, pulling your clothes closer to your abdomen as if to hid it.
The world darkened around Baela as she caught the movement. ‘Don’t hide.’ Moondancer growled inside her head and it resulted as a snarl upon Baela’s lips, echoing through the chamber. The cloth you clutched to your skin was removed, ripping from your fingers and the princess's hands replaced it on your skin.
Hands covering the perfect imprint on your scarred hips. Baela’s eyes shining with a pale, otherworldly hue as Moondancer took a space in her mind too.
“As someone commented on them?” She asked in that same hushed tone, now less sweet, more cold and angry.
You thought about lying, finding an excuse, a reason. But your reaction time was running out quicker than you could think of one, and so, you simply told the truth.
“Not exactly. They would never comment about them to my face.”
Well, not exactly the whole truth. People weren’t talking directly to you, sure, but they were whispering loud enough (and close enough) for you to hear. But you thought that maybe it would quell the fire now burning in your lover’s gaze.
But your words didn’t give Baela the relief she’d hoped for, that you’d hope for. When you left to go back to your family, to recover from the burns she’d given you, Baela fought for you to come back. She fought for you to be given peace, protection. Only to be undermined by what? Whispers? It made no sense to her.
Her mind was racing frantically, Moondancer was already planning atrocities for whomever had made any kind of comment to blow the confidence you’d starter to get back was… a crime, passible of death by dragon. And Baela (and just Baela) didn’t want to go on a killing spree within the castle walls right now. She let out a frustrated breath, fingers brushing the skin of your hips.
“Lord, ladies, knights, servants? Tell me who, my Rider.”
“It’s not important, my love…” You tried to deflect, reaching for the blue outfit that was hanging before you over the changing screen, feeling the heaviness of your truth. Making Baela angry had not being in your plans for tonight, and just thinking of it was tiring you already.
“It is important, because nobody should be making you uncomfortable.” She growled, leathery wings extending behind her back. Fluttering them menacingly as her darkened gaze turned toward the doors which opened, and closed in less than a second.
“They’re wondering. Nobody talks about it…” You tried to defend, weakly. If only to keep the peace.
“And they don’t need to know, because it doesn’t concern them.” She growled at you, pulling the blue clothing from your hands and placed the red one back. “Wear the red one. I decided I liked that one better.”
Before you could pass the clothes over your head, she stopped you again, one hand resting on the scar on your hip, the other rounding behind your neck softly.
“I love you, scarred or not, you are the most beautiful being in my eyes. I apologise for the wrong I did you. I’ll deal with this situation.”
You placed a hand over Baela shoulder, shaking you head, eyebrows frowned. “What are you speaking of, why are you apologising again.”
Baela kissed your lips softly, helping you to adjust the waist of your clothes now. She shook her head, deflecting your worries “I cannot accept the lack of respect they show to you. Your beauty is mine to appreciate and yours to know.”
Her eyes racked over your body, a smirk curving the corner of her lips as she did so. Her fingers traced yours hips through the materials of your clothes until they reached the top of your thighs, before she grabbed a fistfull of it to pull you closer to her. now chest to chest you could feel her breath hitting the skin of your neck as she peppered little kiss along the length of it.You rolled your eyes. Baela always, somehow, made moments as innocent as this turn with innuendos of her physical appreciation. Not that you minded too much.
“And you do appreciate it very much, I’m aware.” You finished for her.
“Your tone suggest it’s a poor decision.” She teased, but you tensed a little at her words.
Your parents had suggested for you not to go back, when you went to heal. That the Targaryens where monsters, poorly raised creatures with no more self-control than the usual beasts. And as much as you didn’t want to think so, there was a part in your mind that still dreaded to feel Baela’s hands on your skin, since the incident.
“I would never do such a thing, my love.” You breathed out, trying to keep the shake from your voice at bay, lowering your gaze to the ground. It was better than to look into her eyes and see the fire of her anger burn brighter again.
She took a step back, fingers loosening around your thighs as Baela took in your cowering state. Moondancer prowling about in her mind, ready to jump out and smother you with what they thought was a needed hug, perhaps some times alone in your shared nest. But she managed to keep the dragon inside of her at bay yet again. Instead, the princess took a sharp breath before speaking again.
“What is it. Truly?” Her head lowered to catch your eyes once more. “Did I do something, are the scars hurting again? I can send words that we’re not feeling well, and not go to the party tonight.” Your hands were now intertwined with hers, fingers entangled with each other, Baela looked on the verge of crying.
You’d never seen her this open, vulnerable, before.
“I’m scared.” you blurted out.
Your eyes widened at your words, as if taken aback from them just as much as Baela was.
“Scared?” She questioned.
You nodded, pulling away from her, walking toward the couch, if only to not be standing on shacking knees anymore. You sat on the footrest, leaving her the couch and Baela took a moment before following you. Her wings, still kept out, weren’t taking as much place behind her as before, but now, talons where curling at the tip of her fingers. You swallowed and diverted your gaze toward the bed behind her.
“I…” The words fought to exit your mouth, or to be kept in, you couldn’t really make the difference anymore, but you finally managed to talk after a second of silence. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I don’t blame you for a reaction that you could not control. It’s simply that… What else, will you not be able to control?”
Baela frowned at your words, leaning back to rest against the couch, incomprehension written all over her face. You rushed to correct your phrasing.
“I mean, I’m a simple human, my lady…”
“Don’t call me that.” She interrupted you quietly. You sighed.
“My love.” You corrected, then continued. “I don’t have a skin made of scales, or stones. How else can I end up burnt? How else could I see my life end? How important am I, truly, to a dragon such as yourself?”
Baela opened her mouth to interrupt you again, but you stopped her with the raise of your hand. “My family is unsure that yours is truly in need of your blood for an alliance. We have but a small fortune, even less soldiers to commit to a possible war. I’m not saying that I am not grateful for your attention. Simply…”
‘Is it worth my life?’ were the words you simply couldn’t get out. The refused to follow the rest, sticking to your lips and sealing them. The choke of it brought tears to your eyes and you lowered your head again to spare yourself the shame of showing weakness. Baela rose to her feet, pacing before you for a moment.
The silence was deafening. You were certain that she could hear your heart hammering inside your chest. You sniffed, drying your eyes the best you could with your hands.
“Dragons are fearsome creatures. I do not blame your emotions, since you’ve had reasons to feel them.” Started the princess with a calm, thoughtful tone, that she used generally during diplomatic meetings.
You kept your head lowered.
“Your family as always tried to keep us apart. I shall not blame you from having doubts, they are your family. But I will not stay quietly put when you insult the bond we share so freely.”
You winced at her sharpness. Baela turned to look at you, her wings fluttering angrily behind her, the smell of sulfur slowly engulfing the room as she stood tall right in front of you.
“I have pledged my love and loyalty to you, as you did to me, and my queen. I have taught you the principles of the Dragons. The principles of being a Targaryen. I will not tolerate you questioning your importance as my mate.” He tone grew angrier by the words and you pushed the footrest away from her by reflex.
This brought a pause to Baela and she took one breath, then two others before she spoke again, her tone calmer now.
“And don’t you think I know? Don’t you think I see the look in your eyes most of the times I touch you without warnings? It kills me to be the one who caused that fear in you. It kills me that I do no know how to help you either. It’s the worst feeling I could ever imagine. How could I hurt the most important person in my life, how could I make them afraid of me?”
Baela ran a hand over her face and kneeled before you, but she kept from touching you. “Tell me how I can help. Teach me how to heal with you.” She pleaded softly.
A tear rolled down your cheek and you chased it away with the back of your hand, shame rippling through your bones at showing weakness, showing fear in front of the only person you thought you’d be safe from.
“I don’t know how.” You sighed, trying to keep the tears at bay. Baela nodded.
“That’s alright, my love. We can learn how together. Just, let me help.”
A knock at the door made you tense, turning away from it as it opened, leaving Baela to answer.
“We’ll be late to the party, please inform my father and my aunt.”
This made you smile a little bit, truly, for the first time in months.
“You don’t look so well.” The words tumbled out of your mouth, catching the interest and attention of the blue-skinned man on the other side of the cablecar.
“M-Me?” his voice was soft and kind of gravely as he started to talk, but it instantly smoothed out into a soft tone, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.
“Yeah. Sorry if I misinterpreted this but you see-”
“No! No, I mean, no, I am quite fine actually, so you don’t have to worry about me. Im of the air, I belong here.” the man smiled at you, fear and something brittle still lingering in his eyes as he gazed at you, his gaze fixed on you and not straying to the small windows at your side.
“Sure.” Your sarcasm was strong today, a wry grin adorning your lips as your eyes roved over the well dressed man.
“Maybe you should loosen your hold on the bench you are sitting on, then, you are leaving dents.”
The man yelped softly, his eyes dropping down to stare at his lavender-knuckled grip on the old bench and fluttering his hands about before settling his long fingers in his lap, his smile turning more real.
“Am I that obvious?” he whispered after a while, eyes downcast ut darting to you every few seconds.
“Just a little bit.” you laughed, not cruelly but kindly.
Silence settled in between you for a few moments.
“The shaking is getting to me.” Softly spoken words drifted over the hum of the machinery to you, drawing your attention back to the genasi.
“Its going to do that for the first 20 times at least.” You felt with the man, remembering your first times riding this deathtraps on steelcables, how your heart had raced, your pulse quickened and sweat had dripped down your neck like a waterfall.
“Im gonna tell you a secret.” You decided in a second, coming to your feet and walking over to him, letting yourself plop down into the seat right beside the man. The smell of old leather, wood, oil and lavender drifted into your nose.
“Oh?” he was looking at you now, focused and with an interested glint in his eyes.
“Yeah.” You nodded sagely, lifting a finger up to your eyes and tapping his nose without thinking about it.
“You should always carry a book with you. Or something else to distract yourself with. Don’t mind or care about the other people here, just put the priority on yourself. Play something, read something, chat someone up to distract them and yourself.” You told him softly, his eyes following your wiggling finger.
The man opened his mouth to say something, his legs shifting to face you more, but at the same instant the cablecar docked harshly, throwing the unsuspecting man into you, his arms coming up to brace himself, caging you for a single heartbeat.
Spluttering the man wrenched himself away from you, his arms and hands coming up and waving, mouth open and babbling simple incoherent words into your laughter. He even changed the color from a soft skyblue to a very breathless purple!
“And always remember,” you went on as if nothing bad happened, “to stay seated firmly, because these cablecars can be quite the mischievous things.”
This was surely the highlight of your day. And a memorable moment of self embarrassment for him.
Plot: Reader is fighting in wakanda when Thanos snaps his fingers, she waits for Peter to get off the ship with tony.
Warnings: fighting, near death, blood, loss
Word count: 670
APRIL 27-We lost, we lost and now everyone is dying. Thanos got the stones, he snapped his fingers and it was over. I stand here hopeless as I see all my loved ones turn to dust in the air around me. I immediately check my suit and see that my father, although coming from far away, has a life signal. That's when it hits me, Peter. Where is he? What is he doing? Is he safe? Is he alive? I begin to cry as my hands find the roots of my hair pulling at it to find some sort of comfort. It seemed like everything was being taken from around me. I had to know where Peter was. I needed to know he was ok.
APRIL 28-The next morning as we left Wakanda I felt myself being shepherded to a plane, when an arm went around my shoulder I looked through my tear stained eyes up at steve. “Tony will have him, your dads got him.” Steve said, trying to reassure me. I kept trying to find damage in my communication systems as I struggled to reach my father and assure myself of his safety. Unable to contact him I begin to focus on the people with me, hoping to feel some sort of assurance, but none comes. Everyone is defeeted, I stand there as my heart breaks more as everyone counts who they lost. I begin to fear the worst, what will I do if Peter is lost too.
MAY 20-It had been twenty two days since we lost half the population. 22 days since I saw my father and 22 days senceI saw Peter, 22 days since I knew he was ok. There is no way for me to talk to my dad although I can tell he is still alive. We don't know what he's doing out in space, for all we know he could still be fighting, he could be dying. Everyone's heart is broken. Very few families got through the snap whole. I hold onto the hope that when my father returns He will have Peter, I can not be the one to lose him. Everyone walks lightly around me. THey all know for a fact that their loved ones are gone by this point it's something that has been accepted. I can tell Pepper is circling around the fact that Peter may not come back when we get my father home. I spend most days at the base. Searching for a signal of anything that may be returning to our planet. I was watching Tv in the control room on my laptop as I got an alert for something getting ready to enter our orbit. As I looked closer I set off the base alarm, It was a ship being carried by something. I ran out to the front yard and soon was met with everyone who was still there late at night.
A woman wrapped in a bright light was holding the plan and landing it. Without even considering the danger of a new enemy I hurried towards the opening of the now landed plane. The damaged bridge began to fail as my heart beat sped up. My palms were sweating and my head began to feel light at the feeling of seeing my family again. Then I saw him, Tony Stark. Peper rushed up to help him as he began to walk off the ship, a girl with blue skin following close behind. My father looked up from hugging Pepper. I smiled at him while looking over his shoulder into the ship. Tony made his way towards me and looked me in the eyes, he was gone. Peter was gone. My dad looked at me with tears in his eyes and said. “He’s not coming, he couldn't come”
A/N umm ok so basicly this is eeehhhh but I was halfway through it when I relized it was shit so I just kept writing i hope you sll read it and thought “not the eorst”
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Character(s): Unnamed Vampire!Reader (2nd Person POV)
Summary: It was a fleeting moment, but if all you could manage to see was the first light of day, then it's worth never seeing the sunrise...
Note: First shot at an original work, let’s see where it goes...
~~~
Night and day. To you, there’s no difference.
No matter what time it was, your surroundings didn’t change, the same dreary walls of the house a constant presence in your life. In the past you’ve attempted to lighten it up, pictures, vases filled with pretty flowers, but the colour of it all just reminded you of your cruel reality.
For many, many long years, this old single story house in the woods represented something akin to a secret hideout, a place to hide away from society until it was safe to leave again.
And yet when you did, there wasn’t a single soul to spend those moments with.
A distant chime resounded six times over before stopping. It was that time once more.
A sigh, followed by the muted thud of the book you had been reading previously, one you’ve finished at least nine times, filled the quiet room. Many would call it their ‘bedroom’, only to you it served more as a lounge than an actual space to sleep in.
Rising from the chair, you leave to the front door, exiting the home and going around into the back. There, lining the wall, were thick, vivid green vines traveling all the way up to the roof, visible foot holds indenting every so often. Using minimal effort you scaled the building, coming up on top by the dingy stone chimney.
Already the sky began to gain colour, deep reds and bright oranges highlighting the underside of the clouds, the darkness lighting up just a little. It still wasn’t all that bright out, the sunlight continuing to hide under the horizon, giving you some time. Time to watch the sky light up just a little more before needing to hide away once more.
Enough time to fully experience dawn.
You could stay longer, watch as the sun fully rises up, but if you did it risks that being your last moments - something you weren’t quiet ready for yet.
Unfortunately, the seconds ticked by faster today than any previous day and you were already pushing the boundaries - you can’t stay out any longer, go back inside where it’s safe...
“No, please... just a little more...” you whispered, eyes glued to the scenery, body moving out a fraction from the shade of the smoke chimney. The greed within took hold, let me see the light of day, just this once, it pleaded.
No... you told yourself, I shouldn’t...
Reigning in that desire, you turn your back to the horizon. As you did the sun was still out of view but the moment you let it out of sight you failed to see the light that peeked out...
“Ah-!” a hiss passed through your lips, arm recoiling back into the darkness with the rest of yourself, away from the sun’s rays. A red patched formed on your arm, a faint fume of steam floating from it. You’d be burned. Your head snapped up, eyes wide as they looked back out to where the sky meets the land. Technically, the sun wasn’t out just yet, but dawn was nearly over, evident by the millisecond of sun light. The danger levels have reached the tipping for you.
With that you scrambled down from the roof in a haste and back into the house via the nearest window, since the front door you originally came from was somewhere the light could touch. You didn’t want to chance it.
But... it was warm... so warm... you thought, shutting the blinds and retreating back your room. Your back hit the wall, legs giving out and sliding you to the ground.
You probably should treat the burn, even just a little, even if it’ll go away on it’s own, but for now you allowed yourself to revel in the after shock.
Gently your fingers traced the red mark, never have you felt such warmth from anything else in this world, not a blanket or cup of any hot drink. This was different, as well as new and exciting.
You craved more, you want to see the sunrise for real. You’ve told yourself that dawn was enough, but after what you’ve just experience, you started questioning yourself.
Is dawn really enough for me?
~~~
2nd Note: Just a little insight for a future day - there will actually be a bit of a continuation for this on Day 11 (the prompt being sunrise) :)
Thanks for answering! Anything in that same tone/vibe of in too deep im 100% down for. I like the chemistry the reader and arven have a lot! And of course the NSFW stuff. Anything with the same feel 😮💨😮💨😮💨
No problem at all! :D You got it~
I kept the same cheeky dynamic as In Too Deep, but the reader is a little bit more of a gremlin in this one. Also, I couldn’t stop myself from writing Arven as much more of a top/dom than in previous fics LMAO. I hope you don’t mind!! x
Home, Sweet Home | Arven x GN!Reader
Note: In case anyone is new here, please note that I headcanon Arven as an adult! Please consider this aged up if I’m proven wrong in the future.
Rating: Mature/Explicit | WC: 1,965 (Got a little carried away lol)
“Finally, we’re home,” you exclaim as you drop your backpack and flop onto the bed in Arven’s dorm.
“One of us is,” he grumbles under his breath.
“Come on, dude. We’ve spent the past week together, what’s one more night gonna cost you?”
The past 7 days have been spent traveling across Paldea with your friend. Finding and battling a few Titan Pokémon, getting a gym challenge out of the way over in Cascarrafa, and staying in hotels rather than camping so as to not scare your teams and each other away with your smells. It’s been fun, but you’re both exhausted and happy to be back in Mesagoza.
Arven deadpans you from his spot, leaning against the kitchen counter with a cup of water in hand. “My sanity,” he finally answers before taking a sip.
You snort. “Y’lost that ages ago.”
Squinting, Arven puts down his beverage and saunters over to you. “Maybe,” he says as he kneels on the bed, placing his palms on either side of you. “Just maybe, it’s because you’ve been driving me insane.”
Being in such a compromising position under your crush, your heart nearly beats right out of your chest. There’s always been some kind of tension between the two of you, but nothing you could put your finger on. You hope to Arceus that your face isn’t as flushed as it feels while you contemplate the possibility of Arven being just as attracted to you as you are to him.
You work past your nerves, in hopes of finally getting what you want from him. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” you retort with a smug grin.
“Why would you do that?” Arven mutters, leaning down further. He looks annoyed, but speaks with a playful hint in his tone.
Your faces are only a few inches apart, and Arven’s fringe threatens to poke your eye out. You’re hit with a surge of confidence as you brush his tresses away, twirling the thick blonde and brown strands between your fingertips.
“‘Cause…” You accidentally shudder when his breath, minty from a recently discarded stick of gum, tickles your face. “This feels more like a reward than anything.”
Now able to see both of Arven’s eyes, you see them widen just a smidge before a devious smirk curves onto his lips. “Does it?” He leans in a little further, shifting onto his forearms.
With your vision plastered onto his lips, you nod and bring your palm to his temple. Cupping his face, but still keeping his hair out of your way. “Mhm.”
When your eyes veer up again, you notice his are trained on your own lips. He leans in again, sighs, and this time when he speaks, his mouth just barely brushes up against yours. “Why does it feel like you’re being a little perv right now?” His words are barely a whisper.
“Why does it feel like you like that I’m being a little perv?”
A short laugh escapes Arven, and then another whisper. “Fuck you.” Then, his lips lock onto yours.
You’d expected his kisses – if you ever so happened to receive them – to be soft, and a little rough around the edges. But this is just rough.
You accidentally allow a tiny whimper to escape your throat as Arven wrestles his lips against yours. His breaths are heavy, and he’s growing greedier with every little smack against one another. Letting his large hands cup your face. Trailing one down your side. Bringing it back up and gently cupping it around your neck. He quietly yet devilishly laughs at your reactive moan, giving your throat a squeeze before lifting his straying hand to your cheek again.
With the same hand that lightly choked you, Arven trails his thumb just underneath your mouth. As your kiss unlocks, and before you can go in for more, Arven takes your bottom lip under his thumb and pulls down slightly; leaving you open-mouthed, as he slips his tongue into your gasp. A satisfied hum escapes you both as your tongues twirl in tandem.
Arven pulls away just enough to mutter the few words you’ve been yearning to hear: Your name, followed by, “I really wanna fuck you.”
“Please.”
Arven leans up onto both knees, and you have to swallow back a whine as you watch him undo his belt with darkened irises. “Get undressed and flip over,” he commands.
Oh.
“‘Kay,” you shyly answer. Comes out breathy and you’re a little embarrassed by that, but you barely care what you sound like. You’re about to get railed by Arven Sada-Turo and that’s the only thought that matters in your horny little mind right now.
Doing as he says, you strip yourself of your tie and short sleeved uniform top, as well as any undergarments you might have had on. Your eyes don’t leave Arven’s body as he does the same, exposing his beautifully stocky torso to you. Looks like a damn god beneath the rays of moonlight coming from his bedside window. The beams deliciously carve against each muscle in his arm and each curve on his tummy.
After impatiently fumbling to untie the string on your shorts, you finally rid yourself of them, as well as your socks and underwear. You feel a bit self-conscious, having your body so exposed like this, but the thought leaves your head when you lift your vision back up to Arven.
Oh Arceus, that’s his dick.
Arven’s dick is just a few feet in front of you.
Has every dick you’ve seen looked this nice? Because you can’t remember ever finding anyone’s dick attractive before, but here you are, fucking ogling at his dick above all else.
“So slow…” Arven mumbles. You don’t need to look at his face to hear the smile in his voice as he complains that you’re basking in his naked body.
Leaning down a bit to reach you, Arven takes your hips beneath his palms and flips you over, propping you up on your hands and knees. You can’t help but look back over your shoulder, watching him as he drinks in the view of your body beneath him. He takes each of your asscheeks beneath his hands and rubs, then squeezes them tight, eliciting another whimper from you.
“So needy,” Arven teases in response. His gaze meets yours and you squint at him. You don’t feel up for a snarky remark. You just want him to do something to you already.
As if Arceus heard your prayers, Arven pops his finger into his mouth, lowers it to your hole, and slowly inches it inside of you. Your eyes roll shut as you moan at the feeling, letting yourself bury your face into his pillow. His digit kindles a fire in your stomach with every preparative movement it makes. You hear him spit, and the next thrust feels much more lubricated. As he adds a second finger, and then then a third, pleasured tears form on your lash line.
“Shhh,” he hushes you, leaning his torso over yours. Fuck, you hadn’t even realized how loud your groans were becoming. “You want the entire floor to hear you?” he mutters into the crook of your neck before lightly nibbling it.
You shake your head, not trusting your voice to respond adequately. A quiet whine of protest is wrung from you as he removes his fingers.
“You gonna be able to keep that pretty little mouth shut?”
“Yeah…” you lie between your teeth. As if his sweet nothings aren’t threatening to make you moan on their lonesome.
Your breath hitches when you feel something much thicker than a finger tease at your entrance. Peeking over your shoulder again, your eyes lock, and stay that way as Arven enters you. He’s the first to break, shutting his eyes and placing his forehead against yours while one of his hands self-soothingly squeezes your butt.
“Fuck,” Arven mutters.
Slowly but surely, he continues rocking his hips into you. Back and forth, like a pendulum fading out of its rhythm. You know he’s probably just trying to last, but you want more. You need more.
“Harder,” you beg, “Fuck, please.”
Arven’s eyelids open, exposing his beautifully hungry aquamarine gaze to you. Sliding his bottom lip between his teeth, he grins, thrusting into you much harder than he has been.
“Ahh, fuck!”
A shaky laugh escapes your lover. “S’that better?”
“Yes, so much… oh god, Arven!”
Still smiling, Arven steals your lips into another kiss. You feel his hand moving up your body, blunt nails lightly scratching from the small of your back up to your nape. Finally, he brings his palm up to your chin. He pulls away from your smooches just enough to slide his hand over your mouth and press down.
“Thought you were gonna be quiet for me,” he remarks, his eyes stabbing into your own.
The only response you can muster is to moan into his hand. You’re flustered by the nonstop eye contact during this intimate little dance you two are doing, but something about that vulnerability turns you on more. Noticing how much you seem to be enjoying this, Arven pumps into you faster. Like a true gentleman, he uses his smooth, husky voice to further immerse you in the experience.
“You sound so cute,” he mutters, a shit-eating grin painting his features. “F-fuck, you feel so nice… y’must really like that I’m taking so much control, don’t you?” You nod, and he crashes into you with even more force. A low moan emits from him, making you shiver, before he keeps talking you through this. “Yeah? You like it when I use you like this?”
You nod again, whining beneath his grip. Absolutely blissed out. He’s so fucking hot. It’s a shame you can’t tell him what you’re thinking, but that’s alright, because something about him using his gigantic hand to shut you up while he talks down to you is invigorating.
In the next few seconds, you feel the muscles in your body begin to tighten. A particularly loud, muffled whine escapes you, and Arven does you the favor of removing his hand from your face, placing it against the back of your head.
“Ahah, fuck, Arven!” You’re cautious to keep as quiet as you can, but boy, if it isn’t a struggle. “I’m gonna...!”
As you slightly push your ass back against Arven’s hips, you feel his cock harden and twitch inside you. He shuts his eyes and lets out a hearty groan before dipping into another sloppy kiss. You moan and nearly-deliriously laugh into his lips as you both cum. The feeling of him filling you heightens the sensation, leaving your orgasm satisfying from start to finish.
After you’re both done, Arven practically collapses onto you, forcing your body down to the bed with an “Oof!”
Unable to believe that this finally fucking happened, you lay limp for a few moments while Arven catches his breath.
“Holy shit,” he mumbles against your shoulder.
“You’re tellin’ me…”
Arven slips out of you and rolls onto his back. Feeling too lazy to get up and towel off just yet, you stay where you are, only turning your head to face it towards Arven. When you look at him, he’s already looking at you.
“Great job out there, sport,” he jokes.
You choke out a giggle and meet his fist bump. “Fucking nerd,” you sass, unable to hide your wide grin from him as he tangles your fingers between his.
The two of you lay like this for a few minutes as your exhaustion from all the traveling amongst other things catches up to you. Until you get up to clean yourselves up, the only movements consist of planting kisses and soft, experimental touches against one another.
Summary: “I nudge my way through his forest of hair and latch onto his throat – wanna give him the same pseudo-bolt strike he hit me with earlier. Gooserene bumps sprout along his skin at the first lick.
Desiring more than that from him, I trail my dominant hand down his broad neck; his strong, stocky chest; and his cute, slightly chubby belly. Finally, I gently cup him through his sweatpants.”
Author’s Note: My headcanon age for Arven is that he’s a young adult, somewhere between 20-24 years old. If this proves to be wrong in the future, please consider him to be aged up to this range!
Likewise, for the sake of the continuity (i.e. Little Buddy and whatnot), you have a similarly tiny stature to the main character in Pokémon SV. For the sake of all of us, your character here is not a teenager lol, but instead roughly the same age as Arven, give or take a few years.
Thank you for understanding!! ^^ Enjoy the final chapter, please let me know what you think, and take care! x
Check it out on ao3!
Prev
“As if I’d ever want to stop.”
While Arven speaks, he shimmies my pants down just below my butt, and squishes it in both hands. Then, in one swift motion, he lifts me slightly up and lays me down in the grass, slipping my shorts off me entirely.
As he gets a good view at my lower half for the first time, he looks amazed. Arven wastes no time putting his dominant hand to work, simultaneously nipping and kneading at my thighs.
“Ahh–Arven!”
I’m fucking mesmerized by how he appears to know exactly where to press to make me quake. Enamored by how well he’s catching onto my responses already. And I sure as hell don’t miss the way his eyes darken, while he drinks in the sight of me writhing and moaning beneath his touch.
“Look at you,” he mumbles. “Am I really doing that alright?”
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath, nodding at him. “You’re perfect.”
Now that he’s made sure I’m thoroughly enjoying what he’s done so far, Arven kisses his way across my thigh before putting his mouth on me. His tongue is magical. I instinctively buck into Arven’s lips, and deciding that he wants more control, he splays a hand across my stomach to hold me down. Even without my guidance, he sucks and licks in all the right ways.
Just as he did with his hands, Arven’s paying attention to every twitch of my hips; reading every expression on my face, as if it’s an instruction manual; squeezing on the soft skin of my side and tummy any time my eyes stray from him, to silently remind me that I’m all his.
He sends me over the edge way sooner than I’d expected. That piercing, hungry gaze bores into mine as I cum, running my fingers through his fringe and moaning his name like a prayer.
As I finish, I trail my gaze up to the cloudy night sky. Post-nut clarity reminds me that we’re thousands of feet below mainland Paldea. Who woulda thunk that this is where I’d pull my crush and take his virginity?
I easily shake the thought from my head and watch with hearts in my Arceus-forsaken eyes as Arven eats me clean. Overstimulating me so well. I shudder and groan some more, cursing under my breath.
“Please,” I whisper. Wanting him to fill me so badly but not being able to verbalize it through the sensations. Arven hums inquisitively against me, sending vibrations through my body. “Need you.”
Smirking, he brings his body up over mine. His forearms rest on either side of my head and his hips between my legs while he kisses my lips, then my forehead, and then whispers how good I’m being for him. Arven grinds against me, pulling another whine from my throat while I melt at his praise.
Continuing to rut his clothed, hardened nether against mine, he teases, “I wonder what everyone would think if they saw their rough and tough new Champ being such an angel for me.”
My hands move up from their spot against Arven’s chest, and I wrap my arms around his neck.
“Don’t care what they’d think.”
I nudge my way through his forest of hair and latch onto his throat – wanna give him the same pseudo-bolt strike he hit me with earlier. Gooserene bumps sprout along his skin at the first lick… off to a good start! Desiring more than that from him, I trail my dominant hand down his broad neck; his strong, stocky chest; and his cute, slightly chubby belly. Finally, I gently cup him through his sweatpants.
…Holy shit, he’s so thick.
Arven sighs my name, preceded by a quiet “Fuck,” as I trail my fingers up and down the outline of his shaft.
When I notice a wet spot of precum seeping through the fabric, I halt tending to his neck, unable to stop my lips from curling up. I take the silent encouragement as a sign that it’s okay to push his pants down. Arven obliges by elevating his hips slightly, and as his cock springs free, it bounces once against my leg with a satisfying tap.
I don’t waste time getting back to it, eager to feel what he’s like without anything in the way. I trace each vein, toy with the head, and tease light pumps along his length. Memorizing his shape while he breathes pleasured sighs and hums against my shoulder. Arceus, he sounds so sexy. This angle is tedious — I have to reach between our laid bodies, and don’t have much room to work — but I guess I’m doing fine.
“Hold on.”
Oh. Or not.
I promptly stop, hoping I didn’t do anything to sour his experience. “You okay?”
He nods. “Yeah, I’m…” he laughs, and it sounds a little shaky. “I don’t wanna cum before I can fuck you,” Arven mutters, lifting his head to get a better view of my face. “But this feels so amazing, and–” Feeling evil, I give him a little squeeze. “Shit, stop that!” I stick out my tongue while he laughs, bushy brows downturned.
“Sorry…”
“No you’re not.”
“No I’m not,” I confirm with a goofy grin.
I fidget with Arven’s tee shirt so that I’m not tempted to mess with him some more. He continues to look down at me, making me feel a little self-conscious after a few seconds pass. I tear my eyes from his with a slight tilt to the side.
“W-what?”
Shifting his weight further onto his left arm, he brings his right palm to my face, lifting it softly to look back up at him. “That smile is…” Arven leans down, and finishes his sentence while barely brushing against my lips. “So goddamn beautiful.”
Oh.
He closes the gap and places a soft few kisses on my lips. My heart flutters in my heaving chest while I smile through the contact, feeling unbelievably giddy…
And then my eyes shoot back open while I squeak out a surprised (and loud) moan. Just when I thought we were having a sappy moment, Arven slipped into me. That sneaky bitch.
“Gotcha,” he grunts through a cocky smirk that’s only betrayed by his upturned brow.
I wanna rebuttal, but my “Fuck you!” morphs into an “Oh god,” halfway through, rendering it a lost cause. Arven eases his way further in and we groan in unison.
“S-so tight, fuck.”
Our breaths struggle in tandem as he bottoms out, my eyes not leaving the sight of him inside me. Something I’ve felt like a creep daydreaming about all this time is finally coming to fruition. I look up and notice Arven watching too… maybe he was thinking the same things all along.
We take a few moments to gather our bearings, his forehead resting upon mine. I hold my hand against his bangs to keep them from falling directly into my eyes, and I wordlessly let him know that I’m ready for him to move whenever he is by offering a small nod. Arven’s eyes scan my face. As he eases his way out, I bite my lip with anticipation while studying his expression. Thrusting back in, only slightly less slowly than the first time, I lose sight of him. My eyes roll shut, and the grip that isn’t in Arven’s hair is breaking apart the poor grass below us. He pauses again, and I open my eyes to see his shut as well.
“You okay?” I whisper, softly rubbing my thumb against his temple.
Arven opens his eyes as he nods, then laughs quietly. “Didn’t think my first time would be like this.”
“Like… in a good way?” Answering me through actions, Arven inches out more assuredly before snapping his hips against me. “Shit!”
“No,” he rolls his eyes to emphasize his sarcasm, picking up his pace. “This is terribleooh fuck.”
Arven plasters his lips onto mine as he finishes moaning my name, swallowing my desperate whimpers. He feels so fucking good.
Lewd slaps and soft spoken profanities fill the night air. They’re the only things that can be heard – the crashing waterfalls further down the Great Crater and the occasional chirp of wild Pokémon nearby pale in comparison.
Growing sweaty from all the activity, Arven slips out for a moment to lean up and take off his shirt. I’ve always assumed I’d see his half-naked form at some point, but at, like, the beach or something. Never thought I’d be blessed with it occuring in this context. I don’t shy away from leaning on my elbows and drinking in his body, obsessed with how… normal he looks, in the sexiest sense of the word.
There are patches of short body hair freckling his torso – shaved recently enough that it’s barely there, but long enough ago that it’s beginning to grow back. He has a soft yet sturdy physique, courtesy of all the time he spends eating his delicious creations and exercising via outdoor expeditions. And his bare skin is kissed with pretty little birthmarks, in places never seen by eyes other than his own before now.
He’s so, so stunning.
I come up to a kneel and steal Arven’s mouth again. Feeling his unclothed chest, tummy, and sides; tasting every bud of his tongue that he allows me; craving every single inch of him. I only retract to slink my own shirt off.
Arven pulls away and mutters some Paldean that I don’t understand under his breath, as his hands roam my body. A soft breeze blows by us as he trails up my sides, thumbing at my nipples and scratching my back with the other eight fingernails. Can’t tell if my prickling skin is because of the wind, or his touch. For the upteenth time tonight, our lips meet, but this time he’s simultaneously laying down and pulling me on top of him.
Feeling way too eager, I sink myself onto Arven’s cock as soon as we’re comfortable. We both shiver with each bounce I make, and he squeezes my hips tightly while I utilize his chest as leverage. I lean my upper half forward, moving one of my hands to the ground beside him. I then trail my free fingers across his jawline, hovering my lips just above his while I tug his chin up towards me, without closing the gap.
He mewls my name into my mouth, followed by the most earnest “Holy shit~” I’ve ever heard from him. I fill his own jaw with unintelligible swearing and moaning, drunk off his hands, his husky voice, and how full I am.
“You’re s-so fucking thick,” I murmur through hooded eyelids, swallowing through a deep breath before I continue. “Feels s’good.”
As if my words were the pep talk he needed, Arven takes back the lead. He lifts my hips a little higher than I’ve been bringing them, allowing himself to buck up into me as he cups my face against his. His pumps are borderlining erratic, and the wanton noise that comes from my throat has me worrying that Nemona, and Penny, and the fucking Professor – wherever they are – will all hear this.
Struggling to speak through his own moans, Arven drowns me in praise. “Listen to you, making such cute sounds for me.” I nearly die. “Y’feel so perfect around me…” Oh Arceus. “You like it when I fuck you this hard, little buddy?”
…
I snort through the pleasure, and then we both fall into a fit of giggles as we realize how weird it sounds for him to call me that in this context. Our foreheads crash into each other as we both keel over a bit, him forming into a crunch while my body folds inward. All the while, Arven doesn’t stop ramming into me, which just makes things funnier.
I vigorously nod as I lift my head, brushing it off. Don’t care if it’s strange that he called me “little buddy” while [redacted] inches deep inside me, because frankly, it would be weirder for him to stop calling me that. My cheeks hurt from laughing, while fucked-out tears filter my vision.
“I love it, Arven,” I lilt, both our smiles refusing to falter. “Please don’t fucking stop!”
I gently place my forehead on his, my hands clutching his shoulders for dear life while I gaze into his murky aquamarine orbs. Arven squeezes his hand between us to tend to my front. Working with newly familiar territory while repeating his earlier commendations of how good I am, how much of an angel I am, how tight I am. He seeks reassurance too, and works me harder and faster as I tell him how incredible he is.
“M’gonna… oh god, Arven, holy fuck!”
Arven wrings another orgasm out of me, patiently fucking me through it while putting off his own. As I’m coming down from my high, my sweaty chest pressed against his, I nuzzle myself into the crook of his neck. I sleepily mutter sweet nothings through more overstimulation. In between soft kisses, I add, “Want you to cum too… please.”
My name is mewled by a raw voice, followed by “Fuuuh— where? Quickly.”
“Anywhere,” I pause to unleash a moan I couldn’t keep pent up. “Please cum for me, just use me~”
Another throaty moan comes from him, and he slams into me a few more times, no longer holding back. It’s utterly animalistic. Not that I’d complain.
He pulls me off, and I scoot down to kiss his hips while jerking him through his completion. I take note of how Arven twitches and humps slightly into my grasp. Watch him scan my body and movements without shame. His elbows are propping him up, and the sexiest expression I’ve ever seen is adorning his face. Once he’s done, I begin to lick him clean of the thick ropes painting his stomach, prompting a surprised gasp.
“What?” I mumble, suddenly feeling embarrassed at how impulsively I did that. Good god. “S’not like we have a rag or anything down here…” I trial off with a poor attempt to cover my actions.
He laughs, shaking his head. “No, you’re… oh Arceus that was so hot, c’mere.”
Arven sits up and motions for me to get closer to him. I oblige, wrapping my arms around his neck while his consume my waist.
“That was amazing,” he murmurs against my shoulder. “Love you.”
This isn’t the first time he’s said it, nor will it be the first time I’ve said it back, but it’s only ever been — or at least seemed to be — platonic. This exchange takes on a whole new meaning now.
