For Kit, uncomfortable is an understatement when it comes to describing the first 24 hours of her new vampirism. It comes with a lot of hardships. Growing pains, however, is something she didn't expect.
Pairing: Damon Salvatore x Self Insert (Kit) (Established relationship - Post vampirism)
Word count: 2,129
Author's note: Made this post yesterday and it's been rattling around in my head since... So I wrote about it. This came out way longer than I originally planned oops! Vampire biology is soooo interesting to me, and I feel like TVD didn't go into the full potential. A lot of the stuff in here is based on HCs I have, so it isn't totally canon-compliant. There are no canon spoilers within this story, however it does take place around mid-S5 in the canon timeline!
Divider credit.
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The first twenty four hours of being dead were, frankly, absolute bullshit.
Kit sat slumped on a stool at the kitchen island, the side of her face pressed flat against the cool, dark granite. The kitchen used to be a quiet solace for her. Now, to her newly turned senses, everything was loud. The hum of the fridge sounded like a generator running directly against her skull. The overhead light was buzzing as if a swarm of bees were circling her head.
The noise wasn't the worst part. The newly burning thirst wasn't even the worst part right now. The worst part was her mouth.
A dull, relentless throbbing radiated through her upper gums, settling right behind her incisors. It felt tight and swollen, like her teeth were too big for her jaw and were actively fighting for space. She groaned, pressing the heel of her hand against her mouth. She tried to rub the ache away through her teeth. It didn't help. Nothing helped.
Footsteps echoed from down the hall, getting closer. They sounded like gunshots to her sensitive hearing.
Damon leaned against the kitchen doorframe. His arms were crossed over his chest, taking in her slumped, pathetic posture. A slow, obnoxious smirk tipped the corner of his mouth. "Buyer's remorse already?"
Kit squeezed her eyes shut. "Shut up."
Her voice came out muffled against her hand. She sounded whiny. She hated it. A day into eternity and she was already complaining. She felt pathetic.
Damon pushed off the doorframe and closed the distance between them. "Not exactly the glorious transition into immortality that you pictured, huh? I did warn you."
"I didn't think my teeth would hurt," she grumbled, finally lifting her head from the counter. She glared at him, pulling her hand away from her jaw. "My mouth hurts, Damon. Like, really bad."
The flush on her round cheeks betrayed her embarrassment. She was supposed to be adjusting, taking this in stride. Instead she was pouting over a damn toothache.
Damon's smirk softened into something a little less teasing and more genuine. He stepped into her personal space, hands finding her waist. His fingers dug into her soft hips. Without a word of warning, he hoisted her up.
Kit gasped, grabbing his shoulders to steady herself as he lifted her off of the stool and sat her squarely on the edge of the kitchen counter. He stepped between her legs, crowding her in. Kit wrapped her legs around his narrow waist, her ankles locking. Despite feeling like a stranger in her own body, Damon still felt familiar. Safe. It was grounding.
She pouted at him. "Don't laugh at me."
"I'm not laughing at you." He wasn't, but his blue eyes were dancing with amusement. He rested his hands lightly on her thighs, his thumbs rubbing small circles. "You'll get used to it. Give it a few days. Your teeth are literally rearranging themselves right now."
"Rearranging?" Kit frowned, the ache pulsing in time with her heartbeat. "Gross."
Damon shrugged, nonchalant. "Your fangs need somewhere to sit when they're not out. Takes a couple days for the tissue to move around and make room." He tilted his head, his gaze dropping to her lips. "Let me see."
Kit shook her head, pressing her lips together tightly. "No."
"Kit."
"I look stupid," she mumbled, her face burning hotter. Her emotions were completely haywire today.
Damon signed, an exaggerated, long sound. He moved his hand up from her thigh, his long fingers cupping her jaw. His thumb rested just below her lower lip.
"Please?" he said.
She held out for another second, her stubborn streak warring with her innate desire to give in to him. she grumbled something unintelligible, letting her jaw drop open.
"Atta girl," he murmured.
Damon tilted her head back slightly, catching the overhead kitchen light. Kit felt absurd, like she was at a dentists appointment. She sat perfectly still as his eyes darted over her upper gums, his expression turning clinical for a brief second.
"Looks fine to me," he hummed. "Exactly what a baby vamp's mouth should look like."
"Doesn't feel fine," she said, though it was mostly garbled since his fingers were in her mouth.
"I know."
Then, without any warning, his thumb and index finger pressed firmly against her upper gumline, right above her incisors. The pressure was immense.
Kit gasped. The reaction was entirely involuntary. A heavy, dark rush of adrenaline spiked down her spine. A sickeningly yet satisfying, visceral shhhhk echoed loudly inside of her skull as her fangs tore cleanly through her gums, her incisors and canines dropping down to their full, lethal length. The sensitive skin directly under her eyes tightened, burning hot as the dark, intricate web of veins pulsed forcefully to the surface. He pupils blew wide, swallowing the color of her irises. Every muscle in her body went rigid.
She stared at Damon, horrified.
Damon let out a low, deeply appreciative whistle, pulling his fingers back from her mouth slightly.
"Glad to know that still works," he teased.
Kit scowled at him, the veins under her eyes fading, though her fangs remained firmly in place. She felt thoroughly exposed. "You're an asshole," she hissed. Her teeth felt massive and foreign in her mouth, completely altering the shape of her words. She had a bit of a lisp.
"I've been called worse. By you, in fact," he dismissed easily, his amusement only growing.
He shifted his thumb, lightly tracing over the smooth, flat edge of one of her fangs. The point was razor sharp. He dragged the pad of his thumb gently along the tip, testing the edge of it against his own skin.
Kit squirmed, her legs tightening around his waist. The sensation was bizarre. Her fangs were hyper-sensitive, deeply connected to a raw nerve cluster she still hadn't gotten used to. It didn't hurt, really, it just felt like too much input.
"They look good on you," he said softly. The teasing edge was gone from his voice completely and was replaced by something darker, heavier.
Kit felt her face burn even hotter. A flare of defensive defiance sparked in her chest. As his thumb rested on the tip of her fang, she bit down just enough to catch the meat of his digit between her teeth. A playful warning.
Damon didn't flinch. Instead, he chuckled, pulling his thumb free. A small bead of crimson welled up on the skin.
"Feisty," he teased, his eyes practically dancing. "Careful, sweetheart. You don't know how to use those things yet."
Kit huffed angrily, folding her arms over her chest and turning her head away. She decided she was done with this exhibition. She went to pull the fangs back, to retract them. She focused on the physical sensation, the way Damon had explained to her yesterday. It was supposed to be just like flexing a muscle.
Nothing happened.
She furrowed her brows, trying again. Her eyes squeezed shut as she concentrated hard on her jaw. Go away.
The sharp tips remained firmly pressed against her lower lip.
Damon watched her struggle. He leaned in slowly, his face inches from hers. "Having trouble?" he asked, his voice a mocking whisper.
Kit's stomach dropped. A sudden, sharp spike of panic hit her chest. It wasn't like her usual anxiety, the slow, creeping feeling she was used to as a human. This was different. It hit her fast, and it was overwhelming, tearing through her.
She looked at Damon, her eyes frantic. She tried to pull them back again. They wouldn't budge.
"Damon," she managed to say, her voice catching. "They won't go back."
Damon's amused expression faltered slightly. He met her wide, panicked eyes. "You're trying too hard. Just relax your jaw."
"I am relaxing!" Her breathing hitched, her chest rising and falling too fast. She was not relaxing. She was getting worse. "They're stuck. Why are they stuck? Oh my god, what if they're stuck like this forever?"
Hearing herself speak only made it worse, her voice not sounding like itself. Her thoughts spiraled instantly. She was going to be stuck looking like this. She wouldn't be able to talk right ever again. She was going to accidentally bite her own tongue off. She sheer volume of her emotions felt like they were suffocating her, pressing down on her lungs until she couldn't pull a full breath in.
Her hands flew up, covering her mouth in horror. She tried to pull away from him, a desperate urge to run and hide.
"Hey," Damon caught her wrists. He didn't let her pull back. "Quit it."
"They're stuck!" she repeated, her voice muffled by her hand. The veins under her eyes flared up again, her new instincts realizing that flight was not a possibility, so fight was the next option.
"They're not stuck, sweetheart, you're just spinning out," he said flatly, pulling her hands down and pinning them flat against his chest. "Stop overthinking it. You're working yourself up."
"I can't—"
"Yes, you can."
His voice remained firm. He wasn't teasing her anymore, realizing it probably wasn't helping with her panic. He kept one hand firmly over hers, trapping them against the solid wall of his chest. His other hand moved to the back of her neck. His fingers slipped under her short brown hair. He pulled her forward slightly, forcing her to lean into him.
"Focus," he ordered. "Drop your shoulders."
Kit shuddered, but she did what he said. The tension in her shoulders melted just a fraction.
"Good girl. Now stop trying to force it." His thumb stroked the skin at the base of her skull. It was a slow, repetitive motion. He kept his eyes locked on hers, giving her an anchor in the middle of the storm in her brain. "Just relax. Focus on me."
She squeezed her eyes shut again, focusing entirely on Damon. The feeling of his hands on her. The heat of his body pressing into her. The heavy, steady beat of his heart under her palms, and how his chest expanded with each breath. She tried to match him, breathing deeply.
The frantic, vibrating energy in her limbs began to dissipate. The overwhelming terror drained away, leaving her exhausted.
The dull ache in her gums shifted. The sharp pressure vanished, replaced once again by the throbbing ache she had woken up with this morning.
She opened her eyes. Damon was watching her intensely. He let out a soft breath, his thumb brushing her jawline.
"There you go," he said softly.
Kit slumped forward, her forehead dropping heavily against his shoulder. All the fight went out of her. She felt stupid. Damon was so experienced, and yet here he was needing to deal with a vampire who didn't even know how to use her own teeth.
"I hate this," she whispered into his shirt. "I feel crazy."
"You're newly turned," Damon stated, his arms coming around her properly now. He wrapped her in his arms, holding her close, his chin resting against the top of her head. "Everything is sort of out of whack right now. It'll level out. Promise."
She turned her face into his neck, breathing in his scent. It was stronger now, but still familiar. She tightened her arms and legs around him, clinging to him. "Sorry I freaked out…" She mumbled into his skin.
Damon's hand rubbed along her back. "Don't apologize. It's only day one. You're allowed to be a little crazy on day one."
Kit scoffed weakly, pulling back to look at him. "Only on day one?"
"Maybe day two." He smirked, reaching up to brush a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. His expression softened, the arrogance bleeding away into quiet devotion. "You're doing fine, sweet girl. Mouth still hurt?"
"Yeah." She frowned.
"Want a blood bag? It'll help take your mind off the pain."
She considered it for a moment. She already fed last night, but more blood this morning couldn't hurt. Plus, she was a little thirsty…
She nodded slowly. "Okay."
"Okay." Damon didn't immediately let her go. He leaned in, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to her forehead. "I love you. Even when you're whiny."
Kit rolled her eyes, but a small smile finally broke through. "I love you too. Jerk."
He chuckled, giving her hips one last squeeze before stepping back. He turned towards the fridge to get her a blood bag.
Kit watched him, a warm feeling filling her chest. She knew this wasn't going to be easy, but Damon was here to help her through it. He was going to take care of her. She'll be okay as long as he was around.
For the first time all morning, the kitchen didn't seem quite so overwhelmingly loud.
summary: Will investigates a little deeper with Natalie's cuticle biting habit
word count: ~1.8k
warnings: skin picking, skin biting, brief mention of blood
author's note: listen. shit's been weird since i graduated. no one ask me about the state of my nails and/or fingers i beg of you. if i ever stop projecting my issues onto my f/os or my ship lore or my fics someone needs to call the cops because either i'm not feeling well or someone has started impersonating me ok? thanks! <3
divider credit: pixopix
"Nat."
"Sorry."
She folded her hands on the table and bit her bottom lip instead. Natalie did her best to ignore the quiet stinging on the edge of her thumb. Biting her fingers was a nervous habit she picked up ages ago. It started when she was young. Usually, she didn't notice she was doing it until she felt a sharp pain. That or, as of late, when Will brought her attention to it.
Wrapping her hands around her cold drink, she looked at her cuticles. Almost every single finger had obvious bite marks on them. Some had scabs and little red dots from where the skin broke. It was only noticeable if anyone paid any mind to them. To her, though, they were like great big neon signs. Embarrassment flooded through her, making her cheeks warm. She wished it didn't bother him. She also wished it wasn't so hard to quit.
Will then made a comment about the weather outside, trying to change the subject. It pulled her eyes back to him for a second. He said something about how it was a pleasant day for a date. Then, wondered aloud if they wanted to do anything else after this. Natalie nodded idly, not really listening, and brought her drink to her lips. It really had been too long since they spent time together doing anything besides talking about work. It was actually her idea. Last night, she told him that she thought a boring day would be good for him. Just one. To give his nervous system a well deserved rest. Surprisingly, he agreed.
So, here they were in a little cafe. The very one where they originally did interviews when they were first starting to get to know each other. With him sitting across from her while she bit the edges of her fingers. It was just like old times.
While he continued to speak, she once again brought a finger to her mouth and continued to chew on the skin. This time, it was the edge of her pinky. As usual, Natalie didn't even notice it. Not until—
"Ow!" The small yet sharp pain made her yelp. She pulled her finger away to look at it and frowned. She had no reason to be shocked. This was a repeated consequence she faced with this. Still, it always did.
The tiniest bead of bright red blood started to bubble where the sliver of skin met the nail. Without thinking, she went to stick it back in her mouth to lap at the wound. Before she could do that, Will reached across the table and grabbed her wrist.
"Stop that." His voice was stern, but not commanding. It reminded her of the tone he takes with his dogs whenever they act too rowdy. A voice laced with love and concern only those most special to him got to hear.
Still, it made her feel guilty. Natalie glanced out the window to avoid his gaze and mumbled, "I'm sorry."
Carefully, he pulled her hand away and cradled it in his. Lightly rubbing his thumb across her knuckles, he also studied her hands. He knew she was ashamed of how they looked. He was all too aware of how this habit left visible signs in its wake. Natalie always tried to shield her uneven nails and torn up, bleeding skin from prying eyes whenever she was conscious of it. She would especially try to hide it from him.
Despite that, they fit perfectly with his when he held them. Her fingers looked like they belonged to be locked with his. It only felt right when her hand was nestled with his. To him, that meant they were still lovely. Bite marks and all.
"Sorry," she said again. Her eyes still stayed fixated on what was outside. The flowers planted out front swayed in the breeze and she forced herself to only look at that.
"Don't be. I just don't want you hurting yourself."
Natalie hummed and pulled her lips into a tight line. She was tempted to pull away and hide her hands under the table, but Will held on too tightly. So, she left them. This conversation was a very familiar one.
"What's on your mind?"
She hesitated before answering his question. Four simple words felt so intense. It was just easier to spit out, "Nothing."
"Don't lie to me."
She muttered another barely audible apology and paired it up with a weak excuse.
"You nervous about something?" He traced shapes against the back of her hand. His touch matched his voice. Soft. Caring. Adoring.
"When am I not nervous?" Natalie snorted, feeling a little less self conscious now. "I don't know. I want us to have a nice time. Don't worry about me. I'm fine, I'll be fine."
After counting the freckles on her hands, he muttered, "I am having a nice time. I'm spending it with you."
"Now it's my turn to say don't lie to me." She laughed humorlessly. Her shame began to ease, sure, but it didn't entirely go away. It lingered along with the gentle sting that throbbed in her skin.
Will limply held her thumb and traced it with his other hand. He acted as if each finger was precious. Softly massaging them, he said, "I have nothing to lie about. I am enjoying myself. What are you nervous about?"
There was no getting out of this. Maybe she was looking for permission to talk about it? Some sort of confirmation that it was allowed and that it wouldn't be a bother. A reminder that maybe, it really was okay to feel bad and open up to others sometimes. Still, she paused as she thought about what exactly she wanted to confess to.
"You can talk to me, you know." He brought his eyes back to hers. A small, subtle one sided smile made itself present while he looked at her. "You always can."
Natalie shrugged and said that just about everything was weighing down on her. She started with bringing up her writing, or rather, her inability to. She brought up how hard it was to get momentum lately. On top of that, it was even harder coming up with any sort of idea. Soon, that fizzled into a whole laundry list of issues she tried to keep buried deep within herself. Once she started rambling, she found it incredibly hard to stop herself.
Staying at home all the time while not being able to shake the feeling that she might be useless. That she might be doomed to sit around as a waste of space forever. The fear that she really has no idea what she's doing with her life, no matter how hard she tries to act like she does. Maybe she took a wrong turn on her path in life somewhere and now she's trapped. Then, that worry spiraled into a thought loop of wondering if she really had no real goal or purpose. Small insecurities that became bigger monsters over time the more she tried to pretend they weren't there. How hard it was for her to make and keep friends, causing her wonder if she's meant for any sort of human interaction at all. How that just added to the loneliness she feels sometimes while living in the remote area. Especially when he was gone for hours on end, always making her wonder if he finally smartened up and left her behind. But ultimately, she thought it all boiled down to the idea that maybe, she isn't worth the effort. It didn't matter what he or anyone else said. That was the one thing she could never shake off. She was beginning to think that truly was the case. Maybe her gut knew something that her brain didn't.
"And now, my stupid childish habit of gnawing on my cuticles until they eventually start bleeding has come back to haunt me and is making you worry."
Will stayed silent the entire time she spoke. He nodded along with her vent, sometimes humming an uh huh here and there. Once it was clear she got it all out of her system, he couldn't help but chuckle and say, "So, it really wasn't nothing, huh?"
Natalie cringed at her vulnerability. It was odd to her how easily all that tumbled out of her. She never thought she'd feel so comfortable with someone. "I mean, it's nothing to worry about, honestly. I just have to, I dunno, figure it out. Maybe I need to buy that stuff that makes your nails taste awful. You know, the kind you get for kids with this same issue."
"That or maybe I get you a chew toy of some sort. I bet Winston would be willing to share his favorite one with you. Seems like a healthier option than what you're doing right now."
"Shush."
"Sorry, now's not the time to make jokes." Bringing it up to his lips, he left a light kiss on the back of her hand. It made the corners of her mouth quirk upward ever so slightly. He was forgiven. "Or maybe I need to stay home with you more. Not so sure if being alone all the time is so good for either of us."
A small scoff escaped her. It sounded a little more bitter than she intended it to. Quickly, she said, "Don't tease me, Will. I know you can't do that. Especially with how…intense your work is."
"I'm sure I can work something out with Jack." He laid her hand flat on the table and held on to her wrist.
"…Do you really mean it?"
She finally brought her eyes back to his face. He didn't look away from her once during this entire conversation. Natalie searched him for any negative emotion, any judgment, and she found none. All he had was a fondness for her. Maybe a little curiosity.
"Scout's honor."
It felt almost too good to be true. Although, he never really had any reason to lie to her. Trusting someone else was foreign, but she figured it would be foolish to argue with this when he allowed her the room to spill her guts just now. "That does sound really, really nice. Just know it isn't expected. I know what you do is very important."
Will shrugged and looked outside to see what she was glancing at a few moments ago. The flowers were still swaying ever so slightly. "Sure, but I think you're just as if not more important to me than all that."
Natalie didn't know what to say. Part of her felt like she didn't need to say anything in return. Simply let that love hang in the air between them in this little cafe.
He then turned back to her, took a small sip from his black coffee, and said, "I mean it. I'm sure Winston wouldn't mind sharing his toy with you. He likes you quite a bit."
"Asshole!"
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If I opened writing com.missions for yumeships / selfships, would anyone wanna get one ? It’d be 5$ per 500 words, 2$ extra for fandom research and I’d provide examples of my writing ofc
Pairing: Damon Salvatore x Self Insert (Kit) (Established relationship)
Word count: 4,157
Content warning: Explicit sexual content, PiV sex, fingering, praise kink, brief body anxiety, creampie, uhhh it's just sex you know how it goes. It's their first time so it's nothing crazy!
Author's note: This is def too long and I could have cut some out and made it shorter but I think sex is a really important part of Kit and Damon's relationship and I wanted this fic to be special :) I was just in the mood to write this out because this moment means a lot to me.
Starting this under a read more from the get go because it sort of just throws you right into it!
Divider credit!
Damon's mouth was hot and insistent against hers, and Kit couldn't think.
She was in his lap, knees bracketing his hips on the bed, her fingers twisted into the front of his shirt. She didn't really remember how they got here, exactly—they'd been downstairs, and then he was kissing her against the wall, and then on the stairs, and now here.
Damon's hands were on her hips, his thumbs pressing into the soft give of her belly. Every time she shifted he pulled her tighter to him.
She rolled her hips down and felt him. He was hard, straining against his jeans, the ridge of his cock pressed right between her thighs. Her breath caught against his mouth and he groaned, vibrating through his chest into hers.
"Fuck," he breathed. His head dropped back a little bit. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, and the way he was just looking at her made her stomach flip. "Keep doing that."
She did it again. A slow, deliberate grind. His jaw tightened and his fingers flexed on her hips. "Yeah, baby," he said, voice rough. "Just like that."
Kit kissed him again because she needed somewhere to put all of this, the want that had been building for weeks, since the first time he touched her and she felt it light up every nerve ending in her body. His tongue slid against hers, hot and filthy, and she whimpered into his mouth before she could stop herself.
Damon growled and his hands slid down to her ass, grabbing, pulling her harder against him. The friction was devastating. She could feel the heat of him even through the layers of clothing, the thick press of his cock against her center, and she was already so wet it was embarrassing.
He pulled back from the kiss, his lips slick with saliva and his breathing uneven. His eyes raked down her body, and she felt a flush creep down her neck and disappear under the collar of her shirt.
"Take this off," he said, tugging at it.
Her brain short circuited.
Kit's hands froze on his chest. The heat didn't go away—she still wanted him so badly that her whole body ached with it—but the familiar cold thread of anxiety wound its way through her ribs.
She knew what was under her shirt. A soft stomach, stretch marks, a body that definitely didn't look like the women he'd been with before. Before they got together she'd seen the women he hooked up with, and heard stories from the girls. He'd had a century of beautiful people, and then there was just… her.
Damon was watching her. His hands stilled and he tilted his head.
"Hey," he said. Quieter now. "Where'd you go?"
"Nowhere." She lied quickly, swallowing. Then, "I just—it's stupid."
"Probably." A teasing smile. "Tell me anyway."
She looked down at his chest rather than at his face, not wanting to make eye contact. "You've been with a lot of people," she said finally.
Silence. She kept talking.
"Obviously." She added, awkward and stumbling. "You've been with—I mean, you've had—you've been doing this for a while, Damon. You've been with people who look like—" She gestured vaguely at him. "You know. And I'm—" Her throat closed up. She looked away, her face flushing with shame. She was ruining this and they hadn't even started.
Damon sat up a little straighter, taking her chin in his fingers and tilting her face back towards him. She had no choice but to look at him.
"You wanna know something?" He asked.
She blinked. "What?"
"I've been thinking about this for months. What it would be like to get you out of your own head long enough to actually have you." His thumb ran over her lower lip. "I've thought about fucking you so many times I lost count. Every time you'd sleep over. Every time you kissed me. Every time you do that very deliberate thing where you bend over to pick something up and—"
"Okay! Okay." Kit laughed, putting her hand over his mouth to shut him up. His eyes smiled back at her. Her face burned for a different reason now.
Months. They'd barely been official for a couple weeks, and he'd been thinking about this for months.
Damon took his hand and took her wrist, pulling her hand from his mouth. "My point is, sweetheart, you think I don't know what you look like under there? I've thought about it more times than you want to know."
"Damon—"
He pulled back and stripped his own shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere to the side. The firelight caught the lines of his chest, his shoulders, the defined trail of the dark hair that went from his navel down into the waistband of his jeans.
"Your turn."
Kit held his gaze, her heart hammering in her throat. With a shaky exhale, she grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head.
The air hit her skin and she had to resist the urge to wrap her arms around herself. She was wearing a plain black bra, nothing special, she didn't plan for this. Her belly was soft and round, the stretch marks along her sides silver in the low light. She could feel every inch of her exposed skin.
Damon's gaze dropped. She watched as his eyes traveled over her. His hands slid up her sides, palms flat, fingers spread wide. They skimmed over her ribs, her waist, her stomach. He traced one of her stretch marks with his thumb, following the line of it.
"Fuck," he said under his breath.
Kit's breath came out shaky. She didn't know what to do with the way he was touching her. It was deliberate, intentional, like he was memorizing every imperfection on her.
He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to her collarbone, open and hot. His tongue traced the jut of the bone. His hands slid around to her back, unclasping her bra with practiced ease that she'd tease him about if she wasn't so turned on right now.
The bra came off and she let it. His mouth moved lower, kissing along the swell of her breast, and his hand came up to cup the other, his thumb brushing her nipple until it stiffened under his touch.
"Beautiful," he said against her skin, and her whole body shivered.
His eyes flicked up to hers—just for a second, something sharp and knowing flickering behind them. Then his mouth curved against her breast and he bit gently, and she gasped.
"My pretty girl," he murmured, soothing the mark his teeth left with his tongue. His voice had gone low, almost lazy, like the words were spilling out of him without thought. "So fucking pretty."
Something hot and liquid pooled low in Kit's belly. She could feel herself responding to him in a way she couldn't control. Her flush deepened, and her hips rocked forward against him involuntarily. He caught her nipple between his lips and sucked, and whatever composure she'd been clinging to dissolved into a breathy moan. His other hand moved back to her hip, pulling her down against him again, rocking her against the hard line of his cock.
"That's it," he breathed. "Feel what you're doing to me, baby."
The words landed like an electric shock. Her fingers curled tighter into his shoulders and she ground down against him harder, chasing the friction. He groaned, mouthing at her neck, her chest, anywhere he could reach.
"Need these off," he said, tugging at her waistband. "Now."
He helped her off his lap, and the separation from him was almost painful. She shimmied out of her jeans, graceless and clumsy, nearly kicking him in the process. He didn't make a comment on it, he was too busy just looking at her.
She stood there in just her underwear, hyper aware of how her thighs must have looked. The urge to fold in on herself was automatic, but she braved it out and let him look at her anyway. Damon reached for her. His hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled her back onto the bed, guiding her down onto her back. He hovered over her and leaned down, kissing her deeply. His hand skimmed down her body; her collarbone, breasts, belly, the crease of her hip. He traced the line of her thigh, fingers dragging along the inside.
His fingers brushed over the front of her underwear, and she jolted.
"Mm." It was a low sound from the back of his throat. His fingers pressed flat against the cotton, feeling the dampness that had soaked through. He dragged his fingers along the length of her, slow. "At least I know you're enjoying yourself."
"Shut up," Kit breathed, but it came out shaky and desperate instead of annoyed.
Damon smirked at her. He pressed his fingers more firmly against her, finding her clit through the wet cotton. He rubbed a slow, tight circle, and her hips bucked off the bed into his hand.
"There you go." His mouth found her neck, sucking lazily at the skin below her ear. His fingers kept moving, making her squirm. "Show me what feels good."
She couldn't help it. Her hips moved on their own, pressing up against his hand, chasing the friction. A high, thin whine escaped her throat.
"There she is." His voice was pleased. He kept rubbing, attentive—firmer when she pushed into it, lighter when her thighs began to shake, always just enough pressure.
"Damon—" She gasped out. Every pass of his fingers over her clit sent sparks up her spine. Her underwear were ruined at this point, soaked through.
Damon pressed a kiss to the hinge of her jaw. "My sweet girl," he murmured against her skin. "Getting so worked up. You sound so pretty like this, you know."
Another whine tore out of her. Her hands grabbed at whatever she could reach. She was writhing under him, past the point of self-consciousness, past caring what she looked or sounded like.
"Please," she gasped. "Damon, please, I need—"
"I know, baby." He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her underwear and tugged. "Lift up."
She lifted her hips and he peeled her underwear down her thighs. The cool air hit her and she shivered, her legs falling open. She felt his eyes on her, and the exposure was dizzying.
He settled between her thighs. His hand skimmed up the inside of her leg, fingers trailing through her folds. Two fingers slid through the hot, swollen heat of her, parting her, learning the shape of her.
"So fucking wet," he breathed. "All of this for me? Aw, sweetheart, you shouldn't have."
He was teasing her. Even now, he had to be an ass. She turned her head to the side, pressing her face into her pillow. Embarrassment and arousal tangled together until she couldn't tell which was which.
His middle finger circled her clit directly now, and her hips jerked up hard. He held her down with a hand on her stomach. "Easy," he pressed a kiss to her hip. "I've got you."
His finger slid down and pushed into her.
She gasped. He was careful—one finger at first, slow, letting her adjust. He watched her face the entire time, reading every expression. His thumb found her clit and started a slow, steady circle as he worked his finger deeper.
"How's that feel?" he asked.
"Good." Her voice was barely there. "Real good."
"Yeah?" He pulled out, pushed in, a little deeper. His voice dropped lower. "You're tight. Relax."
He added a second finger and she exhaled shakily at the stretch. His thumb kept moving on her clit, steady and sure, and she quickly relaxed into him. He curled his fingers and pressed against her g-spot, and her vision went white around the edges.
"Oh—fuck—"
"Right there?" He did it again, watching her arch off the bed. He set a rhythm. Slow, deliberate thrusts of his fingers, curling up on every push in, his thumb circling her clit in tight motions. She risked a peek at him. He was looking at her with dark, hungry eyes. His jaw was tight, like he was restraining himself.
"So good for me," he said, low and rough. "Taking my fingers so well. You're so fucking pretty like this."
Kit whimpered. She could feel the tension building, a coil winding tighter and tighter in her belly. Her hips were moving with his hand now, rocking into the rhythm he'd set, chasing it.
"Damon—I'm gonna—"
"Not yet." He slowed his fingers, easing the pressure on her clit just enough to pull her back from the edge. She made a frustrated sound and he laughed, the bastard. "Not yet, baby. I wanna be inside you when you come. That okay?"
The words shot straight through her. She nodded, breathless.
He pulled his fingers out of her slowly. She watched as he brought them to his mouth and sucked them clean, his eyes never leaving hers. Kit felt like she was going to die.
Damon sat back on his heels and his hands went to his belt. She watched him undo it, the metal clinking loudly in the quiet room. He pushed everything down and kicked his clothes off the edge of the bed.
He was hard. His cock was thick, flushed dark, a small bead of precome at the tip. The sight of him made her mouth go dry and she felt her cunt clench.
He caught her staring and raised an eyebrow. "See something you like?"
"Don't be smug right now, oh my god."
"I'm always smug about this." He smirked. He was infuriating. He moved over her, settling between her spread thighs, and the full body contact nearly short circuited her brain. His skin was so warm, and the weight of him pressing her into the mattress made something primal and desperate light up inside of her chest.
He leaned down and kissed her again, deep and unhurried. His cock was pressed against her, hot, and every shift of his hips dragged him through her slickness.
"Tell me if it's too much," he murmured against her lips. He was being serious now, no longer teasing. "I mean it. I'll stop."
She nodded. "I know."
He reached between them. She felt the head of his cock pressing against her entrance, nudging, not pushing in yet. He held there, and his eyes found hers.
"Ready?"
"Yeah." She exhaled. "Please."
He pushed in.
He was slow, so slow. The stretch was a lot. More than his fingers, more than any toy she'd used on herself. She grabbed his shoulders, nails digging in as her body opened up around him. He paused every few seconds, giving her time. His forehead pressed to hers, and his breathing was ragged.
"Fuck, you feel incredible," he gritted out. His arms were shaking on either side of her head. "You okay?"
She nodded, not trusting her voice. He sank deeper, inch by inch, until his hips were flush against hers. They both went still.
"Breathe, sweetheart."
Kit forced air into her lungs. In, out. The stretch eased, the burn fading into something warmer, deeper and more pleasant. She shifted her hips experimentally and they both groaned.
"You feel—" He stopped and swallowed. "You feel perfect. Fuck, Kit."
He started to move. He pulled back and pushed in again, a slow, deep stroke that bottomed out and made her see stars. Her mouth fell open on a moan and his head dropped. His left hand found hers on the pillow and their fingers laced together—she was vaguely aware of the cool metal of his daylight ring. He sat up a little and his right arm hooked under her waist, his hand flat against the small of her back. He used the leverage to tilt her up slightly, changing the angle.
She cried out. The new angle had him hitting her deeper, sending sparks up her spine. He felt her clench around him, and his breath stuttered as his hips snapped forward a little harder. "Taking me so well. Made for this, baby. Made for me." He breathed.
The praise washed over her like warm water. She arched into him, her free hand sliding from his shoulder to the back of his neck, pulling him down into a kiss. It was messy, open mouthed and desperate.
His pace built slowly. He was controlled, starting slow, then gradually began to push harder, faster, reading the way her body responded and adjusting to it. His hand tightened against her lower back, pulling her up into him. The slap of skin filled the room alongside their ragged breathing.
"You sound incredible," he said against her jaw, his voice low. "Don't hold back. Let me hear you."
Kit hadn't been aware she was trying to stay quiet until he called her out on it. A soft moan slipped out in an exhale, louder than she intended, and he rewarded her with a hard thrust that had her dizzy.
"That's it." His lips dragged along her throat. "That's my girl."
Kit's hand squeezed his so hard her knuckles ached. He squeezed back just as hard, keeping her tethered while the rest of her unraveled.
He was picking up the pace now, the slow grind giving way to something more insistent. His hips drove into hers quicker, harder. The wet sounds of him fucking into her were obscene and filthy and Kit loved it. She felt every ridge of him dragging against her inner walls, and his hand on her waist felt like it was bruising in the best way.
"Shit," he groaned, his forehead dropping against her shoulder. His breath was hot and uneven against her collarbone. "You feel so good. Fuck, you have no idea. Been wanting this—been wanting you—" He cut himself off, his voice breaking on the last word.
Kit buried her face into the curve of his neck. The sounds poured out of her—moans and whimpers and his name, broken and breathless, muffled against his skin. She tasted the salt of his sweat on her lips. She pressed her mouth against his shoulder, his neck, anywhere she could reach, and she felt his whole body shudder above her. His responding groan reverberated through his chest into her body.
His thrusts were harder now, faster, a relentless pace that was knocking the headboard into the wall with a repeated thwack. Kit was thankful Stefan wasn't home right now. She wasn't sure she'd care if he was. She couldn't care about anything beyond the places their bodies were joined, the obscene slick sounds, the way his cock filled her up so completely she had no idea where she ended and he began.
"Damon—"
"I know." His voice was strained, barely holding together. His hand squeezed hers again before moving down between them. "Can feel you squeezing me, baby. You're close."
She couldn't even deny it. His fingers found her clit, slick and swollen, and rubbed tight, fast circles in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation was too much. Her thighs were shaking, and every muscle in her body pulled taut. His mouth pressed against her temple, hot and open, his breath ragged against her skin.
It hit her hard and sudden. Her whole body locked up, and the sound that tore out of her was something she'd never heard herself make before. She clenched around him so hard his rhythm stuttered, and a groan was punched out of him.
He fucked her through it, his pace going ragged, and she felt the moment his control broke. His thrusts went deep and uneven, grinding into her.
"Fuck—fuck, Kit—" His hands moved to pin her hips down to the mattress. He slammed into her a few more times, burying himself as deep as he could get.
She felt him come—hot pulses inside of her, filling her, and the full-body shudder that ripped through him. His groan was low and long, transitioning into a growl, and his hips twitched in small, involuntary movements as it rolled through him. She saw the veins around his eyes pop out for just a moment before receding, and it made her breath catch.
He collapsed onto her and her breath came out in an oof sound.
They stayed like that for a minute, breathing hard. Her grip on him loosened as the aftershocks faded and they came back to themselves.
Damon moved first. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes unfocused but soft.
"Hey," he said. His voice was shot.
"Hi." Hers wasn't any better.
Her eyes burned. She blinked and felt the hot slide of a tear down her temple.
"Shit—sorry." She reached up to wipe her eyes but his hand got there first. He brushed the wetness away with his thumb, then pressed a kiss under her eye, her cheek, her forehead, the bridge of her nose.
"Sorry," she whispered again. "It happens sometimes."
"Don't apologize. You're fine." He kissed the corner of her mouth.
She could feel the trembling in her limbs subside, the deep, bone heavy exhaustion settling in now that the adrenaline was fading. Her body felt wrung out in the best way.
He pulled out slowly. She could feel the warmth of him leaking out. Part of her brain was embarrassed, but the louder part felt good about it. She felt claimed and full and his.
Damon rolled onto his side next to her. His hand immediately went to her hip, pulling her close, and she went without resistance. She curled into him, pressing her face against his chest, and his arm wrapped around her.
"You okay?" he asked. His lips moved against the top of her head, his hand rubbing slow circles on her back.
"Yeah." Kit closed her eyes. "More than okay."
"Good." He pulled back a little to look at her, scanning her face with that sharp, clinical attention thing he did that meant he was checking on her. His eyes dropped to her hips, where bruises were already starting to form from his grip. His expression flickered—something between satisfaction and concern.
"You bruise easy," he said, skimming his fingers over one of the darker spots on her hip.
"S'fine. I don't care."
He hummed. His thumb traced the bruise, gentle. "I can be more careful."
"Don't you dare."
She said it so fast that he looked surprised. That got a real laugh out of him.
"So," he said, and there was something in his voice that made her lift her head to look at him. The smirk was back, lazy and self-satisfied and entirely too pleased with himself. "How was it?"
Kit laughed. She couldn't help it—the audacity of him. He knew the answer, he just wanted to hear her say it. "You're not serious."
"Humor me."
She pressed her lips together, pretending to think about it. "Eight."
His eyebrows shot up. "Eight?"
"Maybe a nine."
"Maybe a—" He stared at her. "I just made you come so hard you cried, and you're giving me an eight?"
"Eight to nine. My last was like a five. That's a solid score."
"It's insulting is what that is."
She buried her face against his chest again to hide her grin. "I have to give you some incentive to do this again. I know how you are. If I say ten, you'll get complacent."
"I don't get complacent."
"You want to be perfect at everything." She tilted her head up to look at him, her eyes bright despite the exhaustion pulling at her. "So prove me wrong next time."
Something shifted in his expression, the teasing edge softening into something warmer. His hand came up to her jaw, thumb brushing across her cheek.
"Next time. Sure." He murmured. He kissed her forehead again before beginning to pull back. "Stay here. I'm getting you water. And I need to clean you up."
"No." She tightened her arms around him, clinging. "Don't leave yet. Stay."
"Kit—"
"Five minutes. Please?"
He looked at her, and whatever he saw in her face made him concede. He settled back down, pulling her closer, tucking her head under his chin.
"Fine. Five minutes."
She hummed against his chest, content, already feeling the pull of sleep at the edges of her consciousness. "Damon?"
"Hm."
"For the record," she murmured, her words already slurring. "I've been thinking about doing that too. For a while. Just wanted you to know. In case you were... Wondering."
He didn't say anything, but she heard him scoff, and she could almost see his eyes roll. His arm tightened around her, and she felt him press his face into her hair. His breath was a little unsteady.
F/O: Ambessa | WC: 1024 | Warnings/Tags: Drinking mention/Alcohol | Masterlist for this ship // so this idea just randomly came to me when I was watching the show yesterday. like i said 'bessa' when she came on screen and thought it would be funny if this situation happened so i wrote this <3
Quiet chatter fills the hall of the estate, various conversations all converging into a din of white noise that could possibly be distracting if April weren't animatedly telling a story to the noble couple who had approached her.
She's already a glass and a half of wine in, and has been nursing that remaining half for the last twenty minutes. She simply needed enough of a boost to overcome her nerves, especially since Ambessa has long since left her side to play her role as host of the event.
Without the wine, she'd be hiding up against one of the walls, not eagerly chatting to whoever decided to speak with her. She's honestly surprised that she's managed to hold their attention for this long, but it might have something to do with who she's talking about.
Of course, they'd want to play nice with someone who seemingly knows the host so well, and who clearly has a positive view of her. April's been nothing but glowing since they got her to start talking.
"So, then 'bessa and I--"
Their expressions visibly shift at the diminutive version of Ambessa's name. Up until this point, April had been using her full name, but the nickname has the man interrupting her.
"You mean, General Ambessa," He corrects. Surely, it was just a misspeak. They'd been lax about her dropping the title, figuring that since she clearly knows the woman, she'd be allowed to leave that off when speaking about her.
But using something so casual, or even sweet to refer to her? Surely, she's overstepped.
April blinks at the interruption, tilting her head slightly to the side. "I'm sorry?" She asks, clearly thrown off.
The woman sighs, giving her a polite smile that seems to scream that they're willing to forgive her for this transgression if she corrects herself and moves on. "You should use her full name when speaking about her," She says, taking a sip of her own wine.
"But I'm allowed to call her 'bessa…" April says, confusion coloring her tone.
It's clear the Blackwells don't believe her, if the almost pitying expressions that cross their faces mean anything. "Oh, sweetheart…" The woman coos, looking at her more like a child than she was moments ago.
"I don't know who told you that, little girl, but you're surely mistaken. It would be proper, respectful even, to refer to such an esteemed general by her full name," The man says.
April's nose scrunches slightly at the way they're speaking her, like she should know better, and she covers her shift in expression with another sip of her wine. She doesn’t know how to correct them on this. If she had the Medarda ring, it'd be easy to flash that and let them know how much of a part of this family she is.
But hers hasn't been finished yet. She'll have it for the next holiday or event, so nothing like this can happen in the future, but for now, she's stuck.
But not for long.
"There you are," Ambessa's voice carries over to them, and April visibly wilts in relief. The taller woman sweeps over to them, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head without any care for the couple watching them. "I trust that everything's been alright, little dove?"
"Mm-hmm! I've been having a lovely time, 'bessa," April says, completely ignoring the people she's been talking to in favor of speaking with her girlfriend.
"Good, good. Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Blackwell, how are you doing this evening?" Ambessa asks when she recognizes that April wasn't alone.
It takes them a second to recognize that they've been spoken to. No, since Ambessa showed up, they've been watching with wide eyes, facing the terrifying realization that the girl they had just been pitying clearly belongs to the woman they were defending.
Mr. Blackwell recovers first. "Good, thank you," He says, still looking a little shaken.
"That's good to hear. It looks like my beloved was having a great time speaking with you." Ambessa clearly seems pleased at that, though she catches Mrs. Blackwell mouthing the word 'beloved' with clear surprise. "Is something the matter?"
"No, no, it just seems we have an apology to make. We did not know that she was so close to you. Apologies, April," She says, inclining her head in a clear apology.
"It's alright," April murmurs. "But I told you I was allowed to call her 'bessa," She says, and a hint of amusement appears in Ambessa's eyes as she understands immediately what must have happened while she was gone.
"You did," Mr. Blackwell says. "We should have believed you."
"Well, with that sorted, I'm going to be stealing my darling away for a little while," Ambessa says, draping an arm protectively around April's shoulders.
Of course, neither of them offers any protest, and instead, offer their pleasantries to the couple, wishing them to have a lovely evening. Ambessa hums and steers April away from them, only letting her amusement truly show when they're several paces away.
"It seems I unknowingly rescued you, hm?" She murmurs, pulling April close now that they're in a quiet corner alone.
"You did," April says, leaning against her, also clearly amused by the situation now that she's out of it. "They were acting like I didn't know better," She says with a soft snort.
Ambessa chuckles softly. "Those sort of issues won't happen again once you have your ring. If not, you may always come and find me if you need to prove your importance to me." Her hand slips down to April's waist, rubbing up and down in an attempt to soothe her.
"Got it," April murmurs.
"Now, why don't you finish that wine? I'd like to take my little love out onto the dancefloor."
April's eyes brighten at the offer, and she immediately sips at her wine. It's not as if the misunderstanding bothered her much (thanks to the wine, she's sure), but she's not going to say no to having Ambessa's sole attention for a little while.
F/O: Sevika | WC: 1842 | Warnings/Tags: Semi-public place (alleyway), fingering, strap-on sex, minor degradation (aka one use of the word slut), possessiveness hehe | Masterlist for this ship // so I promised to do both prompts that @clancykisser requested! This was 15) jealous sex in the alleyway behind the bar & also my first smut w/ her I've written so <3
April's breath hitches as Sevika spins her around to press her against the door to the back entrance of the Last Drop.
"So, what was that?" Sevika murmurs, a knowing glint in her eyes. One that spells danger, fun, or both. And one that makes it clear that she already knows the answer, she just wants April to say it out loud.
"What was what? I was completely normal." Despite knowing she's not fooling anyone, least of all the woman in front of her, admitting what she'd been feeling feels embarrassing.
"Normal? Hah, sweetheart, you were brooding. That's not like you." Sevika presses a little more firmly against her, raising her right hand to lift April's chin when her eyes drift away. As cute as her embarrassment is, she wants to hear it.
April pouts slightly at the words, thinking back to what happened inside the bar. Brooding seems a bit much, but she can't deny it either. She'd come down from Silco's office after a brief business chat to find some woman leaning against the counter next to her girlfriend, clearly making eyes at her.
She knows she shouldn't compare herself to her, but she can't help it. Not when the other woman was so much more attractive than her.
Sevika huffs softly, using her grip to raise her chin another centimeter. "Come back to me, princess. You're drifting." And almost scowling, but she leaves that out. "Tell me. What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"
"I…" April bites her lip, feeling silly about it with how intensely Sevika's looking at her. The older woman never entertains someone else now that they're together, and the same is true of the woman at the bar. Sure, she'd been listening and nodding along, but that's not the same as showing interest.
And it certainly isn't anything like the softness in her eyes anytime she looks at April.
So, voicing it feels ridiculous. Usually, it's Sevika being the jealous one (even if that jealousy is tempered by knowing that she's the only one April's ever wanted to be with).
Sevika sighs softly, though it comes out more fond than annoyed. "Next time you're jealous, sweetheart, just come over and make it obvious who I belong to, okay?" She murmurs, brushing her thumb against April's bottom lip and chuckling when it makes her eyes go wide.
"Huh?" It takes everything in her not to flick her tongue against that thumb, or worse, draw it into her mouth. She's so used to doing that when they're alone.
"You heard me. Drape yourself over me, kiss my neck, anything you want. Make it obvious." Sevika drags her lip down teasingly, knowing what thoughts are playing in her head. She leans down so that her breath brushes against April's ear. "Say it. I'm yours."
"You're mine…" April says, barely a whisper, almost entranced by how Sevika's behaving.
"Attagirl. Louder." Sevika's lips press just under her ear with the command, and she grins when she feels a shiver run down her girl's back.
"You're mine." The words leave her mouth with a little more confidence, and a hint of genuine possessiveness that has Sevika's eyes darkening.
"Damn right I am." Her teeth briefly skim the skin of April's neck. "All yours. Now, what are you going to do about it?"
One of April's hands finds the back of her neck, gripping and tugging her up for a kiss, which Sevika chuckles approvingly into. She wraps her prosthetic arm tightly around April and lets her lead the kiss, humming when her teeth inevitably sink into Sevika's bottom lip.
"That's my girl…" She breathes out against April's lips.
April takes advantage of her mouth being open and presses her tongue inside, her hands wandering anywhere they can, not caring that someone could come down the alley and spot them at any moment.
No. If anything the idea of it makes a fire burn hotter in her blood.
"Mine…" She murmurs, breaking the kiss to drag her lips along Sevika's jaw and down her neck. She's practically on her tip toes, and Sevika still has to lean down to let her, but let her she does.
A soft groan leaves her throat as April presses kisses along the blue scars trailing down her neck, each kiss carrying a residual electricity. "Yours," Sevika agrees, her flesh hand dropping to April's thigh and squeezing it firmly.
Her fingers trail up her thigh under her dress, testing her willingness to keep going here. Her only response is April nipping at one of her collarbones, which simply makes her chuckle. "Yeah. Leave marks if you want, baby girl."
If she ever complains about being covered in marks from her favorite girl, something's seriously wrong.
Besides, it's not as if April isn't covered with her own. She'd be a hypocrite to complain.
A ragged sound leaves April's throat, somewhere between a whine and a growl, and she finds a spot on the other side of Sevika's throat to bite down on. She worries the skin enough until it starts to bruise under her teeth, and only then does she let go to press a grateful little kiss against the forming mark.
"Just like that…" Sevika encourages, rubbing her fingers over the wet spot on April's panties and chuckling when her hips arch against her touch. "Already so wet for me. You love it, don't you? Knowing I'm yours…"
"I do," April murmurs against her throat, pressing a kiss against her pulse point. She leaves a few smaller marks wherever she can reach, though her hands have stopped wandering. Instead, one's gripping Sevika's bicep and the other her left shoulder just shy of her prosthetic. They're anchoring her, keeping her standing when each brush of her lover's fingers against her makes her legs feel weak.
"That's what I thought." Sevika delves beneath the fabric and sinks two fingers into April all at once, drawing a breathless moan from her throat. "Though… I think you like the idea that someone could see us. Could see what a pretty slut you are for my fingers…"
Sure enough, April's walls flutter around her at those words, and Sevika's grin sharpens. Gods, this woman is perfect. Despite how her body practically screams the answer, April lets out a little 'mm-hmm,' her hips rocking into every thrust of Sevika's fingers.
"Of course, you do…" Sevika murmurs, crooking her fingers and pressing against that spongy spot inside her.
April crumples with a sharp cry, her legs giving out at the pleasure. It's only Sevika's arm around her that's holding her up, a fact that seems to make the older woman very pleased.
So, it doesn't seem to make any sense why Sevika withdraws her fingers from her. "No, no, don't--" She protests, the desperation in her voice making her girlfriend chuckle again.
"Shh… Just here. Bend over this," Sevika murmurs, guiding her where she wants her. Her hand moves down to undo her belt, and a shiver runs down April's spine with the realization of where this is heading.
Of course, she'd be strapped up on a night like tonight. Sure, they usually end up in the bathrooms, but she's not about to complain, not when Sevika tugs the skirt of her dress up and presses the head of the dildo against her through her underwear.
"Please, Sevi, don't tease…" She whines. "You're mine, right? Then fuck me."
Sevika smirks and tugs the fabric to the side, rubbing the tip against her to gather some of her slickness on it. "With pleasure," She mutters, pressing all the way inside her in one thrust.
April gasps at the immediate fullness. "Yes, just like that…" And of course, Sevika picked one of her favorites for this.
Warmth blankets her back as Sevika leans over her, giving her a moment to adjust that she doesn't really need. Not with this toy. But one that she appreciates, especially as her girlfriend starts pressing kisses along the back of her neck.
"I'm yours," Sevika reminds her as she starts moving, not nearly as slowly or cautiously as she would with one of their bigger toys. No, she knows April can take it, and the environment is getting to her, too.
"That woman? I barely remember what she looked like." Sevika's breath is warm against her ear, but the words touch somewhere deeper. "I was thinking about you, you know? Waiting for you to come downstairs… I was going to buy you a drink, but I think this is better, hm?"
April's cheeks grow warm at that. They were meant to stay quite a bit longer before she got all jealous, but if Sevika isn't upset… then she won't feel bad about changing their plans.
"You're beautiful. Perfect, even. I don't know what you were thinking when you were looking at her, but just know: no one compares to you." Sevika speeds up her movements then, feeling April trembling underneath her.
She's unsure if the whimpers are from her words or the pleasure, but either's good. "You're mine, too, remember that. I don't want anyone else." She punctuates those words with a sharper thrust, her hand splaying over April's stomach.
"Now, here's the plan. You're going to cum all pretty on my cock, then I'm going to take you home, fuck you again, and treat you like the princess you are after. Sound good?" She chuckles when her only answer is a louder moan. She knows quite well how hard it is to talk being fucked this well, after all.
Her hand drifts down so her index finger can rub April's clit just the way she likes. "Good. Then cum for me, princess."
April buries her head in her hands to muffle the sharp cry that leaves her throat, smothering the desperate little whimpers and gasps that follow so there's less chance for someone to catch them. Shame. Sevika will just have to make her be even noisier when they get home so she can hear them properly.
Her hips slow to a stop, and she stays draped over April for a few minutes, pressing kisses to her neck and the back of her head as she slowly comes down from her orgasm. "There's my pretty girl…" Sevika murmurs as April's head lifts back up.
She pulls out of her and takes a second to tuck the strap back into her pants, finding the little whine of loss to be utterly adorable, even as it makes her want to fuck her all over again. Still, once she's presentable again, she does the same for April, tugging her underwear back into place and smoothing down her skirt.
She carefully picks her up, settling her bridal style in her arms. "Feeling okay?" She asks, leaning down to catch April's eyes.
"Mm-hmm…" April nods, still trembling slightly even as she snuggles close to Sevika.
"Good. Let's get you home." With that, she starts walking, already looking forward to another round of making sure April knows exactly how much she wants her.
Eaglebones finds his partner in bed and decides to wake them up the best way he knows how
A/N: this is just a short one shot from a while ago :D I didn’t edit it from then so if there’s anything wrong ignore it LOL I’m going to try to post some more of my writing on this blog, so lmk if you liked it :)
Turning off the Ignition, Eaglebones finally got to park the motorcycle. He’d been on a longer mission than usual. Monty told him there were some ghosts to take care of, and now he was finally back after two weeks. Stepping out of the chilly garage, only Jimmy was awake, futzing with something at the dining room table.
“Eaglebones, you’re back!” He exclaimed quietly. Getting up from his task, he went to greet his teammate. “Did you get the samples?”
“Yeah, I got your ooze in my bag. Can we deal with it tomorrow?” Bones was exhausted, most of the day was driving. That’s what he got for wanting to do everything himself.
“Of course! I’ll remind you later.”
“Thanks, I’ll see you.” Bones readjusted his bag, still uncomfortable on his shoulder. He would’ve talked with Jimmy longer, but he was antsy to get to bed. Jogging up the gross carpeted stairs, he made his way around the house with a memorized precision. He wasn’t terribly worried about waking up his friends. They could all probably sleep through a monster attack. Either way, they’d get why he was in a rush.
Opening up the attic door, he nervously shifted his weight. Waiting for the ladder to fall, he grabbed the bottom as soon as he could reach it. He clambered up, his duffel bag clumsily hitting his back the higher he got. He thought he’d fall, until his head poked through the bottom of the attic and he got his first glance of his room in two weeks.
Letting out a sigh of relief, not because the room was special in any way, but because they were right where he expected them to be. His spouse, his baby bat, his Ace.
Finally sneaking up the rest of the way, Bones carefully left his bag by the scuttle hole. He crept to the side of his bed where Ace had made themselves comfortable. They’d left on a lamp for him it seemed, the room was shrouded in fuchsia light. He couldn’t actually see them until he sidled up. They were covered in blankets except for their face, just the way they liked it. There’s no doubt they missed having him around, he could see but a fraction of the plushies they’d moved from their (rarely used) bed to his in an effort to fill his empty side.
Ace always rested so deeply, it wasn’t easy to wake them if they got moved around in their sleep. Eaglebones sat at the edge of the bed, nudging his partner to face him just a little more. Leaning over their unbothered face, he brushed some of the hair from their cheeks. All this care, all the deliberation, just to wake them up in his (and their) favorite way.
Holding the side of Ace’s face with a whisper of a touch, he leaned down to kiss them. Their lips met and Bones was home. It was always soft, like something out of a princess movie. True Love’s Kiss, they all claim, can unravel curses, break any spell, and basically raise the dead. Unfortunately, it does not wake cute alien vampires, but that won’t stop Eaglebones from trying!
It always took a good few minutes for Ace to stir, and they got lots of love and attention before they did. He’d kiss their lips, nose, cheeks, and forehead until they’d get annoyed enough with him to wake up, and that’s when…
Ace blinked their big beautiful green eyes, like new to the world, same as every morning before. As soon as Eaglebones was in focus, they beamed. It was his favorite look in the world, when Ace saw him after some time apart. If it didn’t take him leaving to see it, he’d want them to look at him like that every day.
“Birdy!” They smiled at him, the affectionate name coming out instantly. They embraced him, another thing he’d missed. Bones melted in their arms with a wave of comfort washing over him. He could see them, smell them, and touch them for the first time in weeks, something he didn’t want to let go of for a second.
Out of the corner of his eye, Bones could see a discarded stuffie of himself. He couldn’t help but laugh inside, feeling content that his love missed him as much as he wanted them while he was away. And even more satisfying, in a sort of lame way, he was happier his dupe was tossed aside as soon as the real deal was there.
Ace didn’t let go of him, hugging him for what felt like forever. The best they could do was loosen their grip enough to give him the kisses that were long overdue. The weight on his shoulders put him at ease, and he let his tired eyes finally rest as his partner stuffed their nose in his neck. They always claimed it was comforting, he didn’t care.
But he did know he should at least change into pajamas before he succumbed to cozy cuddles and more witching hour smooches. “Ace, babe, you gotta let go,” he mumbled from their shoulder. It was so nice just sitting here. He was fighting for his life. He could feel them shake their head, and tighten their octopus arms. “C’mon, I gotta change,” Bones argued halfheartedly. He was losing his battles.
“No,” Ace kept him prisoner, going limp to keep him where they wanted. Even if he was strong enough to fight them off, he didn’t have the heart to. He was exactly where he wanted to be. Ace was full of little noises as they toppled him over like a tree, his top half falling into the nest of blankets and sentencing him to death.
“Please? My clothes are gross, I’ve been outside all day,” he half pleaded into a cushion. He was met with a whine, as his bat squeezed him for all he was worth. They were warm, and soft… he really could just lay here— and they kicked him out. Finally. He was free from their clutches. He gave them one last peck before rolling off the bed, to limp off to switch into something more comfortable.
He could feel their eyes as they bore holes in his back. Their unending stare followed him as he reached the dresser, pulling out a set of shorts and a random t shirt to keep him cool in the stuffy attic. He planned to sleep well into the day, getting some well earned R&R. Unceremoniously stripping off his dusty rashguard, he could still feel their gaze, pursuing him in the dark. He turned his head to see them waiting for him, like a puppy almost. Innocent enough, they had their cheek resting on their palm, as they let out a sigh.
Could’ve fooled him, if he didn’t also sense their underlying aura, no doubt a dangerous ploy to get more cuddles. He must focus on the task at hand; getting on some jammies and then cuddling the little monster.
“Are you just gonna stare at me like that?” Bones asked rhetorically, hearing a small ‘yeah’ from his winged companion. A mix between a scoff and a snort left him, as he paid them no more mind to get ready for bed. Ignoring the rest of his usual nightly routine to indulge in Ace’s wants, Bones finally padded back over to their side. The red haired bat haphazardly made room for him between themselves and the wall, right where he belonged. Slotting into place like a puzzle piece, he was instantly back in Ace’s grasp.
Pointing his finger to their nose, Bones whispered, “You, are impatient.”
“And yooou owe me two weeks of snuggles.” Ace quietly retorted, nuzzling back into his neck.
“Fair enough,” Bones pulled up one of the million blankets Ace had brought to his bed, tucking them in the way they liked it. For his final act, he wrapped an arm around their waist to keep them close, as he finally let himself succumb to exhaustion. For the first time in a while, he felt at ease, falling into sleep with the simple sound of breathing from his true love.
