The Unlovables

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The Unlovables

Everyone loves a hero. As long as they're youthful, hot, charming and conventionally attractive. Meanwhile, all the old, ugly, broke down, difficult-to-love, bastards out there are toiling away in lonesome obscurity trying not to daydream too much about what a relief it would be if someone came along with a soft touch, and a kind word, and the promise that it'll be ok.

Whether canon or fandom branded them as such, whether it's well deserved or not, there's lots of unlovables. They know most beasts never transform for their beauties. They've probably noticed that even in the Disney version Quasimodo ends up alone ffs. Still, props to them for maintaining a shred of optimism about finding love. Even if they'll never admit to being hopeful.

So if you spent prom on the bleachers. If you max-out at a 5 (maybe 6 generously). If you've got a history of first dates and very few seconds; If you can guarantee you'll get the seat to yourself on the train. Chin up, champ. This one's for you

how to play:

Top level with your unlovable characters; State any prefs like gen, shippy or nsfw. Link your permissions pgs. Tell us a bit about what makes your muse a tough sell.

Comment to comfort someone the world finds difficult to love and be the real heroes in this meme.

Comments

[awarriorsheart]

"You still think that bothers me?" She squeezes his hand again, gently but reassuringly. He needn't worry around her - at least in her perspective. She's a big girl who can tie her own bracers, so his honesty is actually refreshing and appreciated. Not to mention (and though hers paint nowhere near the same map as his) he would be privy to her own scars and the extent of her burns as well. "If... If we do more than just lay here, I think it's only fair that I get to see you, just as you see me. That is, if you want."

She pauses, then speaks oh-so-quietly moments later.

"... I would very much like to kiss you, at least."

[wolfdogwitcher]

"I don't usually." He says. "Let people kiss me on the mouth, I mean. You can try, but I've been told it doesn't feel very nice. And I can't really feel it at all, on that side." Another witcher might get away with it, but Eskel feels acutely uncomfortable subjecting "ladies" to his badly torn lips.

[awarriorsheart]

She nods. "No, that's alright. I understand if you don't want it." He seems uncomfortable enough in his own skin - in his own face, at least - that she doesn't want to make it worse for him. Her whims and desires don't impose over his. "I've already kissed your forehead, I think it counts."

"Would it be easier if you told me something you'd like? From- from me, that is."

[wolfdogwitcher]

"Anywhere else is fine." He says. "The other scars bother me less." He thinks about her question and blushes a little. "Oh, I'm sure whatever you like I can handle."

[awarriorsheart]

"Is that an invitation to kiss them? Because I might." Truth to her words, she presses a small peck to a smaller scar close to his collarbone and presses her nose to his skin, taking in his scent. "I'm sure you can handle me just fine. But you're not providing a service." There's a small chuckle. "I just want you to feel good, darling."

[wolfdogwitcher]

"See, I'm just enjoying having a lady this close." He says, burying his face in her hair and inhaling deeply, the scent of her combined with this new, exhilarating invitation to return her touch, unspools a low growl from his chest.

[awarriorsheart]

"Mmmhm, good." She drawls, slowly letting go of his hand to loop her arm over his torso, fingertips treading lightly over each line and mark. She presses her lips closer to his collarbone this time, not sure if she's kissing smooth skin or a scar - but it hardly matters. It's the scent and feeling of him that delights her.

[wolfdogwitcher]

He reaches for her, pulling her on top of him, gently but showing his great strength. His broad hands resting at her waist.

"There we go, that's better. You're warm." He rumbles.

[awarriorsheart]

She takes in a large breath through her nose, her chest rising against his when he pulls her on top of him, his broad hands holding her frame in place; with a bit of luck he can feel her own marred skin where her shirt hikes up from the movement. Her smaller hands move up to rest at the junction between his neck and shoulders and she buries her nose there, inhaling deeply. “Mmhm, much better,” she murmurs. “You’re warm too. And intoxicating.”

[wolfdogwitcher]

He smells like leather and smoke and sweat and the sharp, dangerous botanicals that witchers apply to their blades or ingest to bolster their already considerable powers.

The soft, feminine warmth of her body on top of his draws a quiet groan and his calloused fingertips trace the skin along the hem of her shirt where it rides up.

[awarriorsheart]

Intoxicating is really the right word to describe him and she feels as if she's floating, fingertips moving from where they've laid to trace his shoulders and one of his strong, muscled arms. She shifts a little, only so that she can rest an elbow beside his head and pull her frame up enough to press a kiss to his unmarred cheek, nuzzling him with the tip of her nose.

Her breathing is quiet, but a little shallower than it was before and the tiny exhale that escapes her lips when he touches her, akin to a small gasp. His fingertips burn against her skin, but the look his gives him is one of permission; should he want to, he is free to explore.

[wolfdogwitcher]

His hands slide up her back, fingertips tracing the dip of her spine. If the burns under his fingertips arrest his attention, his hands at least do not linger on them.

Beneath her, he tips his head back. A wolf showing his belly, a gesture of absolute trust and an invitation that she can, indeed, kiss him anywhere but on the mouth.

[awarriorsheart]

True to form, she respects his wishes and leaves his lips alone. The comfort that he displays is indeed inviting and she allows her own fingertips to tread along his arm, up over his shoulder again, while her other hand finds his hair again and burrows in it, caressing him. She kisses his (unmarred) temple once, twice, before dipping her head down to nuzzle his jawline. All the while and under his own fingertips, her back arches lightly and she heaves a small, pleased sigh, quietly reveling in his every movement and action.

[wolfdogwitcher]

His blunt, calloused fingers press into her sides as his body moves restlessly beneath hers and his hands push up under her shirt to caress her shoulders and along her sides.

[awarriorsheart]

With a small jerk, she tugs the sleeve one arm, freeing it from the confines of the shirt that she shrugs off over her head, exposing the supple, bare skin beneath. But it isn't long before she's back to caressing his shoulders and his strong chest, her movements almost feline-like.

[wolfdogwitcher]

He mumbles something against her collarbones that probably wouldn't be considered very gentlemanly but he says it with hopefully enough reverence to be endearing. He skims his torn mouth (never lingering long enough to really kiss, lest it be uncomfortable) over her collarbones and shoulders as one of his massive hands reaches up to palm one of her breasts, as if just savoring the softness of it.

[awarriorsheart]

Her lips curl upwards into a small smile, his words indeed understood as more endearing than anything else and she hums something impressively unladylike in return. The hand that had been caressing his hair sort of entwines in it in a small (but hopefully not painful) fist when his hands find her breasts; her chest expands with a deep breath that comes undone as a pleased sigh, while her restless hips move not so much in a grind just yet, but so that she can spread each leg to straddle him properly.

[wolfdogwitcher]

The hand not occupied with her breast wraps around her thigh to pull her close. Now that they've started, he seems at least capable of losing himself in the moment, at least for now. He pants softly against her skin, clinging to her.

[awarriorsheart]

While her free hand roams the expanse of his chest, the other one comes to rest at the back of his neck, holding him close. Her lips press against his temple once more, once, twice, her shallow breaths warm against him. She dips down to nip his earlobe playfully, flicking her tongue to brush against the patch of skin just under his ear, close to his jawline.

[wolfdogwitcher]

He growls deep in his chest and his fingers tighten for a moment before he forcibly relaxes his grip, laughing sheepishly.

"Fuck, it's been a while for me..." He reiterates, embarrassed but at least laughing a little at his own eagerness.

[awarriorsheart]

"You're fine," she grins, pecking his cheek in what she can only hope is a reassuring manner. He must be able to feel her heart thumping in her chest, her skin practically burning up under his touch. "Just take your sweet time," she whispers in his ear, playfully (yet lightly) raking her nails across his skin. "'M all yours, here."

[wolfdogwitcher]

"I'd like to take my time..." He echoes, hand smoothing from her chest to her hip so that both his hands rest on her thighs. He tags at the fabric of her trousers.

"Would you wanna take these off?"

[awarriorsheart]

"Gladly," she answers with a small, relieved breath. Her hands, previously occupied, move to first rest on top of his, guiding him in peeling them off until she's only wearing these flimsy pale knickers. For all she cares he could rip them off, but that's her mind getting ahead of herself. "Is this alright?"

[wolfdogwitcher]

"Yeah, that's alright." He says, running his calloused palms up the shapes of her bare thighs. "Why don't you come up here..." He says, patting the pillows. "I find ladies mind my face less if they're sitting on it."

[awarriorsheart]

She heaves in a slow, measured breath, suddenly very aware of the warmth pooling at the pit of her stomach. "Who am I to deny such an invitation?" She whispers, practically slithering over him, stopping only once her knees are nestled beside each side of his head, though still holding herself up so he can adjust himself however he'd like. One of her hands tousles his hair, the other seemingly aware of the position of the headboard. Just in case.