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lalalychee-x · 6 months ago

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"Bad Idea!" Boothill x Reader ft. his hat

CW: NSFW! MDNI! fem!reader; sex where ur on a window sill; squirting + licking it off again lol; slight exhibitionism (the door's open); biting; Boothill's tongue has its own warning; clothes ripping; fingering; robo-dick and cyborg fingers lmao; creampie; blood from biting is mentioned like twice and barely; teasing; braless; begging; edging; sweet and soft Boothill bc he's a cutie; empty warnings; he can't breathe since he doesn't have lungs?? word count: 3415 oopsie

song4this Bad Idea by Ariana Grande

♡ Whenever Boothill's hat goes missing, he knows you're responsible, so it ends up with him hunting around for you. You run away with his hat on to tease him, and he runs after you, playfully nibbling at your cheek. It's all fun and games until the hat is the only thing you have on.. ♡ Basically, you steal his hat to tease him, but end up getting fucked silly until you apologise to him. With the hat on. And only the hat on. "Ya wanted to wear it so badly, darlin', so ya got it."

inspo post from @madamofthestars (psst, check them out! They super cool!) art creds: skoukax on insta

"C'mon now, sugar, ya know that ain't yours…!" Boothill called out behind out, his voice a mixture of frustration and amusement.

You rolled your eyes, quickly glancing back through a spin on your heel; the hat wobbling slightly as you held it in place with one hand.

You look back at him, sticking your tongue out, before giggling and darting off. You sharply turned a corner, your heart racing as you waited for the perfect moment to lead him down a wilder chase.

Boothill scoffs, an amused smirk tugging at his lips, "Oh, gettin' smart now, are we?"

You spin back around, your heart racing as the clicking of his boots gets closer and quicker, "I am smart!" You taunted him a little, the brim of the hat bobbing as you picked up speed.

"Ya little fudgin' minx," Boothill muttered under his breath, his curses amusingly censored as they reached your ears. "I swear, when I get my hands on ya��"

"You can't even swear properly!" You call out again, turning your head as you ran, setting the hat askew.

You catch a glimpse of him running towards you, the sight beyond amusing to see when running at such speed. You attempt to call back, but your voice dissolves into a fit of giggles and gasps for air as you ran.

You snapped your head back, facing forward to drag out the chase. It was all fun and games until you realised you'd diverted your attention for too long and cornered yourself in a dead-end room. Boothill's imposing figure filled the doorway, a smirk playing on his lips as he took in the sight of you. You were panting but your index and thumb firmly gripped the brim of the hat, assuring it stayed on your head.

A room was an overstatement; a storage room, just maybe, with a singular horizontal window panel that stretched about a meter wide at most. It let in a few spells of moonlight.

Boothill leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed over the metal plates of his chest, "Gotcha now," He laughed, the star-shaped insignia on his jacket clicking against the metal of his torso as he did so. "My hat looks mighty fine on ya, but I think it's time ya give it back."

You adjusted the hat, spining it on your low on your brow.

"Come on, just a little longer—?" You teased, batting your eyelashes in a futile attempt to charm him.

"No can do, darlin'," He chuckled again, pushing the door shut behind him. The room dimmed as the light from outside blocked out. "But if ya apologise, I'ma let you have it a bit longer."

"Ok ok, sorry!" You smile sheepishly, reaching a hand to the hat. "There, can I keep it for longer?"

Boothill looked at you with a raised eyebrow, as if you were joking. "That it?"

"Well, else do you want me to say?" You stood there, a bit dumbfounded.

He stared for a second longer before edging himself closer, his face close to yours, bionic fingers tracing up and down your neck. "C'mon, apologise properly."

He tipped the hat up by the brim to expose your eyes better to him. He leaned down, the sharp edges of his teeth latching onto the soft skin of your cheek, pressing hard enough that they'd definitely leave jagged crescent-shaped scars in the morning.

He moved some hair away from your neck, his voice low against your ear as he nibbled across your jaw, "C'mon sweetcheeks, I know ya can work that mouth better than tha't. What happened to all tha't smart talk from before, hm?"

A flushed heat crawled up your neck, dusting your cheeks a rosy pink even in the dim light. It took a moment, before your quickening gasps dissolved into stutters, "A-ah, that was a j-joke…"

"A j-j-joke?" He laughed low against your ear, playfully mocking your stutter, "But you look to be takin' it real serious, sweetheart."

He paused, before licking a long stipe down from your jaw down to your collar bone. "M'still wanting that pretty lil' apology. C'mon."

God, his tongue was going to drive you insane-

You let out a shaky breath, lowering your hand from the hat on your head to place comfortably on his metal shoulder plates. "Hey hey, sorry sorry, I won't steal your hat again, ah—!"

You gasped, almost buckling over as Boothill planted a particularly mean bite through the thin skin of your collarbone.

Glancing down through hazy eyes, you watched as he swiped his tongue over his teeth, licking away the small beads of blood across his jagged dentures. "Ya said that last time too, darlin'."

Your grip tightened on his shoulders, "C'mon, I mean it this… t-time-!"

Your eyes widened, watching Boothill's teeth latch onto the neckline of your dress, yanking it roughly until it ripped. You yelped at the sudden rush of cool air against your bare chest, nipples hardening under the sudden exposure.

"Boothill!" Your arms snapped around the obnoxious tear in your clothes. "The door's practically still open!"

He chuckled, tracing a line with his sharp teeth along your breast.

He raised an eyebrow, "No bra? Yer askin' for it now, sweetheart."

Your face felt really warm again, excuses coming out nothing more than mutters, "I-It… was really warm, today…"

"Aight then, darlin'," he cupped his metal palms under your thighs, hoisting you up until you sat on the window sill, your back pressed against the pane of the window. "Besides, if we get caught, then they jus' gonna havet' give us some privacy…"

You gulped away any nervousness as he shyed away your arms from your chest. He trailed his mouth down your teared bodice, ripping fabric as he went, until he reached the waistline of your dress. He paused for a moment, before ripping a tear down it, right to the hem of the skirt, the sliced fabric falling either side of your thighs.

Goosebumps raced up the exposed skin of your thighs, eyeing when he knelt down, two loud clanks as the metal joints of his knees hit the floor.

He grinned at the sight of the thin fabric of your underwear, running his teeth along his teeth again.

"What pretty panties, hm? Was half expectin' yer to be bare down here too, sweetheart." He lifted your right leg over his shoulder. "Shame 'm gonna rip 'em so soon."

"Hey—! Come on, c-careful!" You shivered slightly as his canines hooked around the stretchy fabric, piercing a hole in them.

"Right darlin'. It's ya punishment for not apologisin'."

"H-huh—?"

There was a staggered ripping sound as your underwear ripped from top corner to bottom corner, the material coming off with the dragging of his teeth.

You yelp, gripping his hair, "You—! Are you going to fucking shred everything I'm wearing—?!"

"Yeah, am plannin' on it, darlin'." He chuckled before trailing his tongue up your slit, already a drooling mess between your legs.

You shiver, your fingers gripping his hair tighter, the door cracked open only making your heart race faster. Oh Aeons, if someone were to see you exposed to him like this, pressed up against the window—

"Shh, relax sweetheart. The thrill's the best part. Jus' breathe for me, ok?" He began to rub up and down your slit, his voice soothing and his thumb lingering at your clit for a moment too long just to force a whine out of you. "But if I were ya, I'd start apologisin' if you wanna cum this time."

"H-haah—?!"

He didn't respond to your breathless protest, but circled two fingers around your entrance, watching amused as slick pooled on his fingertips. "Stubborn? Y'need some encouragement, do ya?"

He licked a long stripe up again letting tongue swirl around your clit before slipping a finger in, his mouth still hot against your folds.

He grinned and looked up at your nervous expression melting into pleasure, his head leaning against the inside of your thigh. "There y'go, sweetheart, ain't that feel good?"

"Hnngh—!" You desperately tried to roll your hips on his finger, only to fail and your body halt into a series stutters.

"Really fudgin' desperate, are we?" He laughed a little, sucking in a breath. "Hol' on, darlin', I'll find it."

He slid his finger in and out tantalisingly slow, his tongue brushing over your clit; you could feel the steel of his teeth occasionally that irked your body with shocks of pleasure. Content with your faltering ego, he slipped another finger in, the stretch making you wince before whining.

"B-boothill, 'm sorry, please-let-me-just, a-ah—!" Your eyes widen, one hand curved over and gripping the window sill and the other firmly on his hair.

"Hm, what's that darlin'?" He stupidly grins, his bottom lip glossed over with spit and your arousal. "Didn't quite hear ya…"

He curled his two fingers upwards, the rubber pads on his fingertips pressing firmly against that sweet spot deep inside you.

"F-fuckkknngh…" Your eyes roll out of focus, hips subcounciously rocking against his bent fingers and your back arched until your head pressed against the window pane — with the hat still on.

He clicked his tongue. "There. 'M found it. Now where are my sorries and Iwontdoitagain's?" He began to pump the two fingers in and out, roughly pressing against that sweet spot every thrust of them. "Still want a proper apology, sweetheart—"

He stays substantially quiet — amiss a few amused hums and chuckles — listening to your flurry of apologies and letting you listen to the sloppy squelches of your cunt.

"God, I'm sorry— I won't—"

"Oh, is that so, darlin'?"

"H-hn, god, I won't do it again—!"

"Sure ya won't, darlin'…" He sucked in a breath, voice shaky between your legs, before picking up the pace with a stupid grin on his face, flashing his shark teeth. You whine, rocking your hips in helpless stutters, your pussy openly accepting the change in pace and clenching around his digits while he curls them deeper and quicker inside of you. "Fuckfuckfuckk— I'm sorry, sorrysorry— pleasejust—"

Boothill grinned at your mush of words. Your mouth hung open, chewing at your bottom lip in a desperate attempt to muffle the drunk blabbles that spilled out of your mouth.

He mutters, his voice low between your trembling thighs, "C'mon sweetheart, y'mouth can beg better than that." He rolls his tongue over your clit again, pumping his fingers in and out, sticky threads leaking from your cunt and sprawling between his fingers and the sides of your thighs.

You clenched your eyes shut, tears pricking at your eyes, "Boothill, c'mon, 'm sorryyy— w-won't do it again— promise—!"He lets out a low hum, gently flicking at your clit with the tip of his tongue— oh god, his damned tongue. A flash of panic spread across your face, feeling him begin to slow down.

"Or what, sweetheart?" He experimentally twisted his hand agonisingly slow as he pumped in and out, pistoning your cunt with his fingers at deeper angles, rubbing your clit with his thumb.

"Please, 'm gonna — hic — c-cum—!" Tears began pricking at your eyes, "God, please, fuck, I've learned my lesson —!" Your pleas come out in choked sobs, "Please don't — hic — slow down—!"

"Attagirl," He grinned, the flat steel of his teeth pressed up against your slit as his tongue flit over that bundle of nerves at the tip that drove you insane, quicker this time, "Jus' a bit more, yeah?"

He slid in for a final time and jerked his hand upwards, settling his fingers into you, firmly hooking repeatedly into that sweet spot. His voice and laugh were teasing, vibrations low and tempting between the plush of your thighs. "C'mon — make a real fudgin' mess on m'face, sweetheart."

"B-boothill, 'm gonna—!"

Your fingers grip the smooth locks of his hair, head pushed against the glass, his name shamelessly spilling out of your mouth. Specks of white flash from behind your eyes, vision going hazy and choked moans straggering from your throat.

You hear him chuckle lightly underneath you, cooing at the clench around his fingers and the gushes of viscid liquid coating his tongue, lips and fingers so well.

He slowly pulled away after rubbing strangely vexing circles a few more times inside you. He glances up at you with a satisfied grin, his mouth and chin glossy with your fluids.

Lowering your thigh from his shoulder, he let it dangle back over the window sill before standing up with a loud scrape of his metal joints against the floor.

He cleaned his fingers clean of the sheeny, pretty slick with his tongue and making sure to roll them around in his mouth before taking them out with a 'pop—!'

"Real mess y'made, sweetcheeks." He grinned, flashing his teeth at you, as he used the back of his hand to wipe away any remnants. "Tastes real good, though."

"H-hnn…" Your voice came out rough and croaky, your head lolling to one side, setting the hat to tumble off your head.

He snapped a hand to the hat, placing it back on your head with a mischievious smile, "No no, keep it on. Ya wanted to wear it so badly, darlin', so y'got it."

You blink for a few moments, regaining your breath, "Oh, fuck you—!"

"With pleasure—"

"What am I going to wear when getting out of here?! At least you're clothed!" You motion to the sliced fabric on either side of your legs, and the ripped bodice of your dress hanging on dear threads.

With your comment, he slipped off and discarded his jacket that didn't even cover much anyway.

"Ya won't need anythin' for a while now, darlin'. Think of it when we get there." Boothill laughed, flicking away the torn rags. "Besides, y'look good with just the hat on. Think I've put your mouth to enough good use too."

You lick your lips, opening your mouth to say something but quickly shutting it again at the swift unbuckling of his belt; it heaves down to his thighs from the weight of the cartridges hung on it.

His fingers travel, hitching onto a cock of metal plates, the edges of them encased in thick black rubber right from the girth until reaching a swollen tip of black rubber.

You sharply breathe, eyeing the scale-like texture, taking note of every rib on it as it lined up against you. You suddenly blush at the realisation of mouth almost salivating, muttering, "You so owe me a new dress after this—"

Boothill let out an amused hum, one hand wiping a line of drool from your lip then trailing down to your tits, cupping the flesh with cold metal fingers. You shiver, the skin on your chest pebbled with goosebumps before gasping at a sudden bite along the sensitive skin.

"—?!"

The quick spike of pain quickly subsided into a tingly sort of pleasure as Boothill's tongue drove around the swelling mark, peppering a few more as he went until he was so bent over into you that his cock pushed up against your pussy, the metal cool against your puffy and swollen clit.

"Ah, fudge, darlin'—" He grits his teeth, feeling the warmness of you just on his tip. He huffs a little, barely fitting it in voice raspy as his face is buried into your neck. "Open up a bit, sweetheart will ya—?"

He backs away for a moment to grab both of your legs, hooking them firmly over his shoulders. You groaned at the stretch, keeping both hands on the window sill in desperation. He grinned at your pussy spread wider over his tip now, clenching around it and sheening the bulb of rubber with slick. "There y'go…"

He groaned, breathing shaky as he slid it slowly. "A-ah, God—"

"A-ah, God—" Your eyes widen, rolling out of focus from feeling every metal rib of his cock push into you, forcing it thick and hard into your cunt until it reached the base. You tense, locking your legs around his neck. "Fuck, I told you to be careful—!"

He let out a shaky laugh, "Sorry 'bout that darlin'—"

He places one hand on the window sill for leverage, the other coming to press the hat down on your head. With a sharp breath in, he begins to move, deep long strokes at first to make sure you felt every bump along the scale-plating of his cock against your walls.

And, god, did it drive you insane; the texture was too much, almost sending your sending your already-sensitive pussy into overstimulation. "Hnn, t-too much —! Boothillholdon, itsgonnahmph—!"

"Jus' relax, darlin', you've taken it before…" He whispers low into your ear, stressing the pace of his movements, losing himself in the warmth of your cunt and grinning at your indecipherable mush of words spilling from your mouth again. Muffled groans escape as he listens to your moans, picking up the pace.

You subconciously roll your hips against the thrusting of his cock, every metal plate rubbing smooth and hard against your walls, the thick rubber of his tip hitting hard against your g-spot.

"Killer hips y'got there, baby—" He cooes breathlessly in your ear, his own voice breaking as he thrust in and out of your sopping cunt. You flush a deep red, your face now hot and bothered when you realise how desperate you were against his cock.

You open your mouth to reply, probably with something smart but your lips are greeted with the stark taste of iron and your own slick on his tongue as his mouth kisses yours shut. You whine through his lips, feeling his tongue deep in your mouth until your whole body shivered and tingled. You tried to keep your eyes open, only to end up crossing them over in a fucked-out haze.

Your legs trembled over his shoulders, locking him tighter in place to bully his cock deeper into your cunt. His eyes widened at the lock, then he grinnned.

"Fudge, y'not lettin' m'get away, are ya—?" He groaned before huffing out a laugh, finally lowering his hand from the hat on your head to place them both on your hips, roughly slamming them onto him to target that sweet spot inside you.

"Hnn — hic — god, m'gonna—" Your words come out slobbery, your lips glossed over and drooling.

"C'mon, pretty, cum f'me…" He dug the metal of his fingers into your hips, his own beginning to stutter and shake as he moved. He rubbed the pad of his thumb against your clit in uneven circles to drag the orgasm out of you. "Make a real mess, sweetheart—"

Patches of white and yellow flash behind your eyes, your hips buckling forward. You let out a long choked moan that stuttered with every slackening thrust of his hips that gummed your insides with thick ropey spills of cum.

Gently, he slowed until the stimulation against your slit burned off, leaving you tingly and weak. Weak enough to finally let go of the leg lock you had on his neck.

The grip on your hips slackened as he pulled away, whistling at the mess between you both. He took a moment to watch the white slick drip between your legs. "Feel full as a tick yet, darlin'?"

You tried to respond, but your whole body almost lolled to the side, only stopped quickly by his arm. He gazed down at you, stupidly grinning and laughing at the sight. "What'd I say, darlin'? I did shut up that smart mouth of yours." He clicked his tongue in thought, "Even got m'self the cutest little apologies—"

With any remaining energy you had, you playfully whacked him on the arm and cut him off, to which he faked a wince. He had forgotten the bodily difference in stamina between you two.

"Ouch— fudge, darlin', at least you got some spark left in ya. Fine, 'ma buy you a… no, ten dresses in turn, 'kay?" He pressed a small kiss on your forehead then eyed the dimly lit room, catching sight of the hat that had tumbled off your head at some point and the jacket he had teasingly thrown off. "For now, 'm jacket and that hat are gonna have to do."

"Oh, fuck you—" You scoff, your head in the curl of his elbow.

He smiled, running his hand through your hair. "C'mon, y'wanted to wear that hat so badly. Y'looked real good in it…"

♡ Please do not modify, steal, plagarise or post on other platforms without asking. Thank you!

#lychee<3 #lychee's sillies #boothill #boothill x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr boothill #smut #hsr smut #Boothill's tongue my GOD.#oopsie it a bit long

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fourthcupofrice · 1 month ago

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@rebornofstars. HI BEE!!!!! I FINISHED IT!!!!!!!

EVERYBODY GO READ BEE’S WORK PRIMORDIALS!!!! ITS REALLY COOL. CLICK OVER HERE RN!!!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56295496/chapters/143026147

Bee that first chapter was just so amazing, it kept staying on my mind until i drew it. I love love the idea that Time doesn’t really remember Captain, and Wars doesn’t recognize his little buddy 20+ years later. I love that mystery element. Beyond the comedy of everyone in the group believing themselves to be the only mortal person in the group, I absolutely love the vibes around Time. He IS Time itself and its really good!!!! His natural Strangeness is so good, and it��s half heart-warming half terrifying how much he admires Warriors and genuinely thinks he is the protector of all soldiers and patron of battle.

close ups and drawing rambling below the cut

I’m so proud of the baby especially. I gave Fierce unicorn hair just cause I can, he deserves it. I love his stupid sword that makes no sense. If a 10 ft tall guy with unicorn hair and a glitter sword showed up I’d be so scared. His sword isn’t glittery in game but I do what I want.

the original draft was super desaturated with a really yucky pallet, and I was kinda digging it, but with Fierce’s sill my sparkly hair the desaturated panel didn’t look purposefully yucky anymore and just normal yucky, so I added a little more color.

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mydaylight · 2 months ago

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Do you remember when Miss Nilsson sang the "Jewel Song" here? How could I forget.

Carrie Coon and Celia Keenan-Bolger as BERTHA RUSSELL AND MRS BRUCE

(ft. Douglas Sills as JOSH BORDEN)

THE GILDED AGE (2022 -) | 2.08 "In Terms of Winning and Losing"

#the gilded age #thegildedageedit #thegildedagesource #perioddramaedit #perioddramasource #weloveperioddrama #onlyperioddramas #gifshistorical #periodedit #userperioddrama #*mine #carrie coon #bertha russell #mrs bruce #celia keenan-bolger #bertha's face is in the third gif is very important to me #because that is the face of a woman with a plan

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hellishmuse · 4 months ago

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Maisie watched on with curious eyes, following the dog as he walked back to his owner, looking incredibly smug. Like a menace, apparently. She crouched down to pick up the books, holding them out to the man in front of her. "Don't worry. I'm a klutz myself. Always knocking stuff over. Just usually not when people are around, if I can help it." She averted his gaze, looking down at her hands for a moment. Talking to people was totally normal and easy, and other people who were more shy than she was did it all the time! This was no sweat at all. "Cool dog," she said then shook her head slightly in embarrassment, chastising herself mentally.

Of course it was too much to ask the seeing eye dog to do his job. Not when the librarian was all too familiar with him and he knew she had treats behind the desk for him. Julien sighed as he picked up the books he had admittedly knocked over, if not for any reason other than Teague taking off running to the lady who was already cooing at him despite the disturbance that seemed to get everyone else’s attention.

Even if he couldn’t see well he could tell that eyes were on him and he nodded, waving everyone off. “Yes, yes… so sorry.” The annoyed rolling of eyes seemed to have its own breeze as Teague trotted back, thoroughly pleased with himself. “You’re a menace.” He muttered, lovingly as he scratched the pups chin. That’s when he noticed the stifled laugh. It was soft, but not enough for him to miss. Glancing up, he gave the unfamiliar face a wry grin.

“I’d be lying to you if I said that’s never happened before.” He admitted with a wry grin.

#* . ⊹ 𝕄.ℝ. › julien 001 #* . ⊹ 𝕄.ℝ. › ft. julien #ur so sill ymaisie i love u

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crabberman · 5 months ago

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Espresso (Atsumu x Reader)

“Now he’s thinking ‘bout me every night oh isn’t that sweet? I guess so.”

Atsumu had a problem. He groans and rolls over in his bed, glancing at the clock by his head. 3:02 it reads, causing Atsumu to groan again. His mind hadn’t stopped racing all day. The mind once so filled with volleyball now had another thing taking up space; you, Atsumu’s classmate. He throws an arm over his face, moving around in his bed again and earning a shout from his twin.

“Stop movin’ asshole, I’m tryin’ ta sleep” Osamu grumbles and kicks at the mattress above his head. He’s had to listen to Atsumu’s whining for hours now. Finally fed up, he begrudgingly asks Atsumu why he's been like this. “I’m tired of listenin' yer bitchin’, the fucks wrong?”

Atsumu groans once more, sitting up in his bed. “Ya know y/n from my class?”

“Yeah, what about em?”

“I can’t stop thinking about em.” Atsumu mumbles out, earning a laugh below from Osamu.

“The oh so great Atsumu, humbled by some guy from his class.” Osamu snickers. "Thought you didn't care 'bout what people thought?" Atsumu huffs at the teasing remarks and throws a pillow underneath himself at his twin who manages to dodge it. “Fuck off, why don’y you text em or somethin’” Osamu tosses the pillow back up, hitting Atsumu.

Atsumu stops for a moment before reaching towards the window sill for his phone. He turns it on and searches through his messages until he finds who he was looking for. He takes a deep breath in before clicking on your contact typing out a message. He passes the phone to Osamu on the bottom bunk before he sends it. “This good enough?” His voice has an out of character uncertainty to it.

Osamu grumbles and grabs the phone, reading the unsent message out loud. “Hey you up?” He rolls his eyes. “Are ya fuckin' serious Tsumu? Ya sound like some playboy” Osamu continues his scolding as he types out a new message, passing the phone back up to Atsumu. “There. That sounds a little better and like you wrote it.” Atsumu flips his brother off before he reads the new message. His eyes lit up and he immediately pressed ‘send’. “Thanks Samu! I owe ya!” Atsumu’s unease seems to have dissipated.

“I know yer not gonna repay me.” Osamu rolls over in his bed, pulling his blankets up. “Now be quiet, some people don’t wanna be tired an' hear ‘bout it from the captain.” With that Osamu pushes his pillow to cover his ears, getting a head start on blocking Atsumu out for the rest of the night.

Atsumu stays put, watching his phone desperately. He feels almost stupid, he’s never once cared about what another person thought about him, so what does he care now? As soon as these thoughts enter Atsumu’s mind he sees the three dots appear at the bottom of his screen. You were texting back. He watches excitedly as the message pops up, almost stealing his breath away.

Atsumu: Hey I can't sleep. If you’re awake do you wanna ft? You: Sure :)

Atsumu feels a wide grin take over his face as he hearts your message. He feels giddy on the inside. Maybe caring about what this one person thought wasn’t so bad.

#haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff

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hometoursandotherstuff · 30 days ago

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I can't believe this. Yesterday, I posted an old mill conversion and said that I only like the ones that have the old equipment inside and still look like an actual mill. These people murdered this one. It's nice, but why didn't they just build a house instead of ruining the mill? So, this is a former 1840 mill in Old Lyme, CT with 4bds, 3ba, 5,283 sq ft, $995k.

What old mill? This is a mansion. Where are the stone walls? This is insane. I've never seen anything like it.

There's a powder room in there.

This place was completely gutted. I wonder what they did with all of the antique equipment. It looks like they really didn't know what to do with all the space. Mills are huge.

You can see where the vast floors were.

It's kind of empty, except for the dining room.

In the kitchen, there's a lone original stone wall. Very plain cabinets, too. For such a large building, this is a tight kitchen, considering.

I wonder if that opening was there before.

They really didn't know what to do with the original open layout.

We must be on the top level, which is where they put the bedrooms.

While they carpeted a lot of the floors, this bedroom has a refinished original floor.

The primary bedroom is large and they put in a fireplace.

Large en-suite.

And here, we're on the ground floor of the mill. They put in a fireplace, but it's unclear what this room is supposed to be.

And, then they made a family room in here and put a brick fireplace in front of an original stone wall.

There's an awful lot of unused space. There's another stone wall on the left and another fireplace.

As we saw yesterday, these mills are huge. Look at all this area that they're heating. No they did not put in a suspended ceiling. Looks like a bedroom in the far corner and a large closet. Look at all the carpets, what is the point of this?

Here's the waterfall that powered the mill, still beside it. They put a bridge/observation deck over it.

The wheel is gone.

Beautiful 2.17 acre property and all that's left is the shell of a former mill. I can't believe that they didn't even leave the wheel. It would've been so picturesque.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/108-Sill-Ln-Old-Lyme-CT-06371/157578116_zpid/

#old mill conversion #converted mills #houses #house tours #home tour

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chillydownhere2 · 2 months ago

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Source Me laf@ilyF ❤️

#artists on tumblr #original photographers #photographers on tumblr #photography #my photgraphy #colors #oklahoma #green #summer #landscape photography #trees #Medicine Creek Park #Ft Sill #water #reflections

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roadtrippinlilly · 4 months ago

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Great Blue Heron In Nature

Source Me laf@ilyF ❤️

#original photographers #colors #artists on tumblr #oklahoma #my photos #my photgraphy #my escape #nature #photographers on tumblr #ft sill #great blue heron #my video #wildlife conservation #wildlife photography

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honimello · 3 months ago

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Instant Crush//Possum Kingdom

Stalker!Cardinal Copia x Sister of Sin!Reader

Summary: He’s been watching you for so long, he can’t wait any longer. He has to have you. (Loosely inspired by the songs Instant Crush by Daft Punk ft. Julian Casablancas, and Possum Kingdom by the Toadies.)

Words: 4,955

Warnings: NSFW 18+, DLDR; Dead Dove‼️intense voyuerism, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, dubious consent/noncon, copia is an unreliable narrator, innocence kink, outcast/evil copia x popular reader slightly cliche, PiV, masturbation, severe stockholm syndrome, mention of lactation

A/N: I don’t know if I would say this is the most intense fic out there but i think it would still be good to put the dead dove do not eat warning on here lol also thought of the ministry having catacombs like halfway through the fic and now i can’t stop thinking about how cool that would be lol

——

“And we will never be alone again… Kinda counted on you being a friend, can I give it up or give it away?” // “Make up your mind, and I’ll promise you I will treat you well, my sweet angel.”

He doesn’t know how it got to this point. The Cardinal can just barely see himself in the reflection of the window pane in front of him, but how can he focus on his own practically-drooling visage when he can watch what’s on the other side of the glass?

Copia knows he shouldn’t watch, but he can’t really help it anymore. He really doesn’t know how it got to this point, watching you bent over your bed with an undeserving Brother of Sin. It would make his blood boil if he didn’t love the sight of it so much. You look so beautiful like this, ass pressed up against this rugged Brother, your sweet little face scrunched up in pleasure. Oh, if only it were him making you feel like that. He’s just glad someone’s doing it, even if it’s not him. At least he gets to watch.

Copia’s cock begins to tent his cassock just a little more as a muffled moan of yours floats through the cracked window sill. How divine, he thinks, why would such an angel spend their time in a pit of demons? This was the fourth Sibling you’d been with this week, and he just can’t seem to wrap his head around it. You’re such a sweet little thing, and they are always so dirty.

His train of thought is cut short when he realizes your big, innocent eyes are locked on his own. He can feel his heart sink all the way to his feet. You look scared. Yet, you don’t say anything to your partner, just continue to stare into his lustful, depraved gaze. He can’t quite tell what sort of expression is on your face other than shock and fear, but there’s something else indistinguishable mingled in there. It’s not until you arch your back and your eyes roll back into your skull that he knows— arousal is hot in your gaze and it’s bringing you over the edge.

It’s like watching a tsunami, or, more relevantly, an angel fall to earth. It’s breathtaking in so many different ways. He can’t help it when his cock twitches, his cassock becoming unbearably sticky. You’re just so beautiful like this, he doesn’t even need to touch himself.

Copia watches on as your partner cleans only himself up and leaves you on the bed with a halfhearted promise to return at a later date, but you couldn’t care less. How long had he been watching you now? The Cardinal tries to recall when this all started.

You were new to the Ministry but had quickly become a sort of people’s princess. Everyone loved you, especially Copia. You had enchanted him with your big eyes and sweet demeanor. Although, it was never directed towards him, he was quite used to this and hadn’t expected any sort of kindness from you. He knew he didn’t deserve it. He had spent his whole life manipulating and fighting his way to where he was now, but soon he wouldn’t be just a Cardinal anymore.

People knew to tread carefully with him, they thought him disgusting and frightful. A part of him was glad for this, it made his job easier. There was a reason everyone called him the Rat and it wasn’t because of his defined nose. If someone were in his way, he wouldn’t hesitate to ruin their lives to come out on top. He’s a liar, a snitch, a traitor, a backstabber, a Brutus, a Judas, if you will.

Ah, yes. Now he remembers. It was fall, he had just finished teaching his Latin class. He was locking up the class room, the night sky shining down on him from a nearby window. A chill ran through his spine. He could hear you, you’re short heels clicked on the linoleum in a strange and specific way that was unique to you. He had been casually watching you in the past week of you being there, any time he found himself in your presence he couldn’t look away.

And here you were, you had stopped in your tracks the second you noticed him. He could practically smell the fear on you, so as he turned to face you, he tried to keep a neutral expression. Even then he knew he didn’t want to scare you, not like how he scares the others. No, he wanted to scare you in a different way. A way that makes you clench your thighs together and beg for release.

“Hello, Sorella.” He said, watching you carefully. You were stiff, like maybe just the sight of him alone had turned you into a statue. He looked off to the side, where he presumed you were heading to. “Ah, on your way to my fratello, eh?”

Terzo’s office was just down the hall from his, and of course a beautiful Sister of Sin like you would visit him late into the night. He saw you fidget where you stood, you stared at your shoes in fear of meeting his eyes. Your voice came out wavering and hushed.

“N-no, il mio Cardinalé. I was on my way to see you.” Your voice was so soft he almost thought he misheard you for a second, but no, oh no, he hadn’t. Now he’s nervous. What could you possibly want to do with him? He was afraid if he thought too much about it he might pitch a tent in his very revealing, tight pants. Seemingly, to spare him, you continued. “Sister Imperator gave me some paperwork she meant to give you in the meeting this morning. She said it was important.”

You held out the stack of papers with a shaking hand, and he couldn’t stop himself from brushing his gloved fingers against yours as he took it from you. Your eyes were so wide, staring up at him with such fear and reverence. And even after he thanked you and you had walked away, he stood in the hallway dreaming of that look.

Yes, this was when he had started following you. From this point on he couldn’t stand it when you were out of his sight, he had to know where you were and who was giving you the pleasure you deserved. So, as he snapped out of his daydream in the hall, he stalked off into the Ministry corridors.

The Cardinal did his best to stay quiet as he caught glimpses of you turning corners and weaving in between the Ministry’s ornate marble pillars. He followed you into the dorm wing, hesitating just around the corner so he could take note of which door you entered. The butterflies in his belly became more and more present as he realized just how lucky he was. Your room was at the very end of the hall, directly next to an exit, and he knew for a fact that there was a window peering into your room.

He exited the wing, and came face to face with what would soon become a sort of second home to him. A bench directly under the window to your room. Copia cupped his hands around his eyes as he pressed his forehead into the window, trying his best to see into the room with how dark it was. A breeze racked its way through his body, but he warmed up fast when he saw you exit from your bathroom.

Steam spilled from the little room, you had started a shower. His heart began to race, you were grabbing a robe from your dresser. Were you about to?— Oh, yes. Yes, you were. You had pulled your habit right over your head after removing your wimple, the vision in front of him could only be likened to holiness. A beautiful angel, clad in dark lace and nylon. You bent forward, presenting your full ass to him, you rolled down your stockings and pulled them off your legs.

The mirror on your dresser gave him the perfect view of your front as well. It sent a jolt of terror through him though, when he had noticed the window reflected perfectly in the mirror, but it seemed your curtains hid him from view. He heaved a sigh, watching as your hands skimmed over your tits, plucking each bra strap and letting them snap back against your skin. He could see the little flinch you made each time you did it, it had him twitching in his pants.

Finally, you slid the straps off your shoulders and reached behind you to unlatch the bra entirely. It fell to the floor unceremoniously, giving him a full view of your chest. And what a view it was, his hand skimmed its way down to his crotch, palming at his hot erection. Your breasts were soft and caught the beautiful glow of the candle on your dresser like an oil painting.

He didn’t have much time to admire you before your hands made their way down to your panties, playing with the band resting on your full hips. You slid them down your legs, bending over once more. Your cunt was slick and glistening in the candlelight. He started to drool. He hadn’t felt lust like this in quite some time, his work had taken the forefront of his attention. But now? You were the only thing he could think of, work wasn’t even a thought anymore.

You slinked off into the bathroom, finished undressing, and he wondered if you would touch yourself in the shower. He wished there was a window in there too.

That night, as he lay in his bed, wet cock in hand, he imagined what it would be like to touch you, to shower with you.

And even as he sits outside your window now, he still wonders what it would be like to give you the pleasure he so desperately wants to give you. Watching you with your little toys and your inconsistent partners can only satiate him so much.

You lay in your bed, covers pulled all the way up to your nose, still staring at him. You look so enticing. He’s not sure he’ll be able to stop himself anymore. A couple weeks ago he had found a way to unlock the window from the outside. He had taken his fair share of your dirty panties from your hamper, and now… Now he wanted to take something else.

His lithe hand creeps down to where he knows the window is cracked open, the latch never quite closed fully, and if he could wiggle his finger underneath he could push the latch off completely. So, he did. The expression on your face makes him hard again, the squish of the cum staining his cassock is barely a thought to him with how strained his cock is once more. He sees tears well up against your long eyelashes.

He starts to shush you, trying to comfort you as he slowly slides the window up. He bends his head down, and slinks into your room. Soon, Copia is standing next to your bed. You haven’t moved an inch, though the tears have slid down your plump cheeks. He doesn’t know what to say, he wants you to feel better. He wants you to come back with him to his chambers. He wants you all to himself.

Only now does he realize he’s said this aloud. This snaps you out of your paralysis and you lunge for the door to your dorm. He’s much bigger than you though, and he’s caught you within seconds of your attempt. He presses your naked body close to him, you try to claw at his arms and scream but his thick hand has clamped over your mouth.

“Shh, shh, angioletto mio… You don’t need your little playthings anymore, bravetta, you have me now.” He presses his lips against your ear and whispers to you, pressing sporadic little kisses to the shell of your ear in between his words. “Shh, shh…”

Copia rubs his face into your soft hair, his voice rumbling like a cat. You continue to try and wiggle your way out, but he just slowly pulls you down to the ground, arms encasing your entire upper torso in a tight grip. He’s finally caught you and he’s not letting you go.

He continues to shush you, his voice a mix of comforting and terrifying. He gently presses you down into the floor, your body now lain flat, face pressed into the ground.

“Don’t move, little one. Your Cardinalé needs to do something.”

Your heart plummets to your stomach at the insinuation, but thankfully, he steps away from you and walks over to your dresser. You think of making another break for the door, but you know he would just catch you again so you decide to play the obedient role for now. He appreciates this as he pulls two long, thick ribbons from your dresser drawer. He had seen you play with another Sibling with these before and he had fantasized about them since.

Now, he can finally use them on you, like he has a wanted for quite some time now. He stalks back over to your body, straddling your hips and trying not to think of how good it feels for your plush ass to be pressed up against his balls. His fingers wrap around each of your wrists and he binds you with the red ribbon. It’s tight and inescapable. He moves down your legs and does the same with your ankles.

As he goes to stand above you, your little voice stops him in his tracks.

“C-Cardinalé?” Oh, the waver in your voice makes him feral. He’s so glad he could give you such a beautiful tremor. He hopes he’s riling you up just as much as you are to him.

“Sí, bravetta?”

“…”

You squirm under him, the sight of your breasts squished up against the floor is driving him insane. What soft nipples, he thinks, if only I had the time to worship them now. He nudges your hip with the tip of his dress shoe, urging you to continue as he’s sure he only has so much time to get you back to his chambers.

“I-I’m so scared, il mio Cardinalé.” Copia kneels back down, carding his fingers through your hair as he presses up against you once again. He gently lays kisses on your shoulder, his mustache tickling your skin.

“Oh, piccolo angialetto mio, there’s no need to be afraid. Shh, just relax now…” His hand rustles around in his cassock for a few seconds, making your blood run cold, but he pulls out a thick leather strap and fastens it against your mouth, effectively muffling any sound that may come out.

He pulls you off the floor, and carries you bridal style out of your room and through the exit he knew so well.

The entrance to the Ministry’s catacombs was a little bit into the edge of the woods near the gardens, not far from where your room had been. Sister Imperator had given him the long-abandoned chamber within the catacombs when he had become a bishop. The last tenant used to care for the burial sights down there, but after his death the entirety of the catacombs has been left untouched.

Sister had offered Copia an upgrade within the upper clergy chamber hall but he had declined, he’s grown fond of the stench of death.

So, as he pushes the large wooden doors open with his back, he encourages you to close your eyes. Many of the coffins and effigies were open or broken apart, and he would hate for you to see something so grotesque. He wants you calm and comfortable down here.

He traverses the old stone steps down into the ground, the old torches had been updated to be electric, the fuzzy warm light has always looked so cozy to him. Even as it reflects off the cold, stone walls. His chambers are down a few more twists and turns, you try to memorize them but it quickly becomes hard to remember. It dawns on you that maybe only the Cardinal knows how to traverse these caverns.

Copia comes at a stop in front of a large, heavy door, he sets you down gently on the freezing stone floor to unlock it with a skeleton key. He pushes it open far enough that he can carry you through safely.

There’s a large, extravagant bed in the middle of the room. All the furniture in the room seems to be Victorian, and of the same set. It looks much more comfortable than the rest of the catacombs. He strides over to the bed and lays you down on the soft covers, turning back to the door to lock it.

Copia watches as your chest rises and falls rapidly, the realization that you’re completely alone with him now dawns on you both. You’re trapped, he could do whatever he wanted now. He could do everything he’s dreamed of. But first, he has to make sure you really can’t escape. He had bought a collar and leash quite some time ago when he had first had the idea to bring you here.

The sight of it makes you wail, though the sound is muffled by leather. As he leans forward to fasten the collar, you try to scoot away but it’s not enough. He has you collared within the next second, and he slides his fingers down the chain leash, pulling it up to the bed post closest to you. He wraps it around the post and locks it in place.

“Hm… There. How does that feel, piccolo angialetto mio?” He unties the leather strap from your mouth, letting all the little gasping sounds you’ve been making float through the still air of his chambers.

“P-please, please, Cardinalé, please, let me go.” You beg, hyperventilating and whimpering. He’s a little disappointed in you, such a sweet, obedient thing and yet you can’t answer a simple question? Maybe he needs to ask it again.

His gloved hand sidles up against your throat. He gives it an experimental little squeeze making your eyes widen in fear. His gaze is like looking into the sun: wide, bright, and burning. He never looks away for a second.

“I said. How. Does. It. Feel?”

You know you have to answer him.

“I-it…It’s okay, Cardinalé… It doesn’t hurt.” You pray to Lucifer that that’s what he wants to hear. It seems it is, as his hand loosens its grip and slowly, softly, slides down your clavicle and ghosts over your breasts. His eyes are wild and deranged, you can see spit gathering against his bottom lip as he ogles your chest. His fingertip traces the shape of your breast, then comes back up to gently rub your nipple. Guilt and shame burns in your belly as a little involuntary moan escapes your throat.

His eyes snap up to yours… He liked that. You can see the urgency in his face, he wants you to do it again. His fingers circle your nipple once more, and it’s so sensitive. Your cunt isn’t on your side, it’s slick and aching. You bite your lip to hold back any other sound that may sneak out. It seems he likes this just as much.

Copia leans even closer to you, his lips ghosting over the skin of your tit. His mustache tickles as he hovers just over your stiff nipple. The tip of his tongue inches out, grazing against your areola. His spit is hot and dries cold, making you shiver in the warm light of his chambers. What is wrong with you? How could you possibly be turned on by this right now?

You had noticed how he was always around, always hanging on your every word even if they weren’t being said to him. You had wondered if he truly was watching you, and tonight you had finally seen him. But it didn’t scare you as much as you thought it would. In fact, it had driven you mad. The sight of him drooling and humping the air as he watched you getting railed, it had done things to you. It made the cock in your pussy almost redundant as you spasmed and creamed all over it.

The thought of having Copia’s cock to cum on flashes in your mind, doing nothing to stop you from giving in to him. His mismatched eyes look up at you reverently, he starts to suck gently on your tit, letting out little whimpers and moans as he does so. His hand trails down your belly, on a certain path to your flushed and pulsing clit.

Any effort to refuse him has gone out the window, you have no idea how long you’re going to be here with him. It would do you no good to pretend you don’t like it as much as he does. Moans spill from your lips as his gloved fingertip gently presses against your clit. He draws little circles on the hot bud, making it twitch and pulse. You whisper his name in poorly contained ecstasy.

He shushes you once more in a placating gesture, his hot tongue laving over your nipple. You’ve had many partners over the years, but none of them felt like this. His hot mouth is what you imagine Hell must be like for the most devout of Satanists.

He continues his ministrations, vaguely wondering if he could get you to lactate if he treats your teat kind enough. He trails his tongue over to your other nipple to give it some much needed attention, and his cock jumps when you let out an airy gasp, your bound arms twitching in place. He suddenly realizes then that you’re still tied up at the wrists and ankles and a wave a guilt washes over him.

“Oh, piccolina, I’m sorry. Let me free you.” He pulls his mouth away from your tit, making you whine in protest. He sneaks his hand under your body, untying the ribbon as fast as he can and turning down to your ankles to untie that ribbon as well. It feels good to spread your arms out next to you and let your legs fall open for your Cardinal.

“What a beautiful girl.” He whispers in praise, his hand sliding back in between your legs. Your fingers toy with the grucifix hanging from his chest as he plays with your clit once more, suddenly it doesn’t feel so fair that you’re naked and he’s not.

“Copia?” You whisper breathlessly, catching his attention immediately. He mindlessly rubs your clit as he faces you with a quizzical expression.

“Sí, bravetta?” His voice has grown husky and his right pupil is blown wide while the other stays the same as it always does. He looks worried, like he’s done something wrong which feels morbidly ironic to you and you can’t help but let out a quiet giggle.

“Will you undress, il mio Cardinalé? I want to see you.” Your desperate voice betrays your neediness, and he looks almost smug at how well he’s riled you up. He barely has any room in his head for any insecure thoughts that crop up, his only thought being to make you happy. So, he pulls his hand away once more, though to start unbuttoning his cassock now.

He gets it about midway to his belly before he starts to pull it off his shoulders and let it fall to the ground. What greets you is freckled shoulders and hairy pecs hidden by a white tank top, and his signature tight, red pants.

His cock looks huge straining against the fabric, it makes your mouth water in anticipation. There’s a little wet spot where you assume the tip is, and it somehow makes you even slicker than before. His nimble fingers start to undo his pants, pulling out the tucked in tank top and tossing it over his head. With his pants fully unbuttoned, he takes a glance at you and sees that you’re transfixed. It looks as if you’ve been put under a spell, watching intently as he fumbles around to try and pull his pants down and off his legs.

His dick is even more pronounced in the tight black briefs he wears, it looks about as thick as your wrist and as long as your belly button to your clit. He looks at you hesitantly, like he’s not sure if you truly want to see all of him but there’s nothing more you want in this moment, not even escape.

He pulls the gloves off his hands, finger by finger, drawing it out as much as possible. Just so he can drink in the desperate look on your face, he knows he won’t have much resolve to tease you once it starts. His newly bare fingers slip down his pudgy, fuzzy belly and hook under the band of his briefs. He strains the band and lets it snap against his skin like he’d seen you do with your bra straps, and he watches intently as you let little gasps out each time he does it.

Copia pulls the band down, revealing his bush with every slow inch. The sight of the base of his cock takes your breath away, and soon enough the entire thing has flopped out and smacked against his belly. It’s monstrous. You want it like nothing else. It suits him.

He crawls over you and straddles you then pulls your legs around his hips, letting the tip of his flushed cock rest ever so gently against your throbbing clit. You whine and squirm, gripping the covers below you and he tuts gently.

“Patience, piccolina.” He warns, but both of you know there’s no real danger behind it. This is better than anything he could’ve imagined, why would he get upset with you for being just as eager as he is?

His cock catches against your aching hole as he tries to rub your clit with it and it makes you both gasp. He lets out a drawn out moan as the tip pushes gently against your cunt, it pops and slides in about an inch and he can’t seem to catch his breath. It’s been so long it feels like it’s the first time, and maybe it should be because no one has ever been like you. Sí, he thinks, this’ll be my new first time.

Just his tip sits nestled in your heat and it starts to make you feel fuzzy and needy, you start to whisper incoherent pleas. He knows what you need but he needs to take this in just for a few seconds longer, so he brings his thumb up to rub against your clit. You’re both moaning like desperate whores, and he can’t help the whimpers that fall from his lips whenever he feels you clench down on him.

He starts to slide in further, you’re so wet it feels like there’s no resistance at all. It feels like home to him, like this is where he really belongs. Here with you, in you and around you. He falls forward to rest on his elbows above you. His hips start to rock gently against you, pushing in further and further with each thrust.

“I-I love you, angialetto mio.” He whispers against your lips, pressing kiss after kiss on them. “I have loved you for so long.”

“I know, Cardinalé… Mmm, yes, just like that.” You groan as the head of his cock starts to nudge against that spot inside of you, pulling you closer and closer to the edge. “I-I… Oh, Copia, I love you too.”

You don’t know what’s come over you. You’re not in the right headspace, you never would’ve said that before. But maybe that’s okay, you think, maybe this is where I’m meant to be. You pull him closer, pressing your chests together and kissing him deeper. His tongue asks entrance into your mouth and you let it, you explore each others tongues as he fucks into you faster.

The sound of your wet bodies slapping against each other and the moans let out between breaths is the only thing that can be heard in the chambers, and as he continues to pick up speed and depth it feels like you just might scream. He’s hitting all the right places, rubbing all the right spots and your eyes roll back into your head. His face is scrunched up in concentration and pleasure, his sweat dripping down onto your own sweaty skin.

“Oh, bravetta, I’m so close.” He whimpers pathetically and he brings his hand back down to rub tight circles on your clit once more, aiming to push you over the edge with him.

“Yes! Yes! Copia, please!” You’re almost there too, your breathing is short and fast as your heart thumps in your chest, your clit throbbing. His thumb nudges the very tip of your clit and that’s what does it. It feels like molten lava has spilled over you from your head to your toes as he grunts loud and jerks his hips forward once, twice, and a third final time as he unloads deep inside you. Your walls spasm around his thick cock in ecstasy and soon enough the reality of the situation starts to set in.

You don’t know how long you lay there silently gazing off but when you come back, Copia has cleaned you both up and wrapped you up in the covers. He is gazing at you lovingly and it makes you sick to your stomach. There’s no getting out of here is there?

You wait til he falls asleep to cry.

“Now I thought about what I wanna say, but I never really know where to go. So, I chained myself to a friend.” // “Give it up to me, give it up to me. Do you wanna be my angel?”

——

#cardinal copia x reader #stalker!cardinal copia #cardinal copia x sister of sin!reader #the band ghost fic #cardinal copia fic #cardinal copia #my writing #the band ghost

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justporo · 10 months ago

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Evening Rituals

The sun might be lost for Astarion, but what he can hold onto are the sunsets once the sun itself has hidden beyond the horizon. And so he sits and watches - and you hope to help him mend what's broken.

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: I wrote this after I thought of that recent headcanon of Astarion liking to catch as much of a sunset as possible - because they're beautiful and we all know he loves beautiful things. Coincidentally the sky this morning - although it was a sunrise - was just as I imagined it for this piece. Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) Warnings: light mention of past trauma Wordcount: 1k Song: Am I Dreaming - Lil Nas X ft. Miley Cyrus ~~~

The room was dark so the sky could be more vibrant.

At least that’s what Astarion always said when he insisted on getting up as soon as the last golden ray of the setting sun had climbed down below the horizon. He’d thrown open the thick brocade curtains covering the tall window in your room, only to do the same with the window and then perch on the window sill: one leg drawn up, the other hanging casually down from the little nook and his head up towards the gradient sky.

His posture seemed casual enough. Inviting you to think that he was merely languidly relaxing. But for you who’d become accustomed to carefully notice even the most minute of details of your lover, you saw the tension in his spine and the way he leaned towards the last moments of daylight. The way his eyes spoke of yearning and a dear one lost.

It had become an evening ritual this. Since evenings were now the start of your days.

It had been merely a couple of days since your final battle for Baldur’s Gate and so for the time being you’d chosen to remain in the relative comfort of the Elfsong tavern. Until things had blown over a bit, the dust settled.

One of those things being how your vampire had been forced back into the night.

And how he hadn’t been ready for it. Although, if you were quite honest with yourself, who could have ever expected him to be ready for something as cruel as that?

Astarion fully hadn’t been prepared for this sort of breakup yet. That’s what he’d said several times. Sometimes half-joking, sometimes with as much earnestness as you’d heard from the man.

And you knew that even his new found, undying and powerful love for you could only take the sharpest edge off the pain all this was causing him.

He was mourning the loss of the sun. The griefing doubled by it being the second time it had been taken from him.

Because a heart already shattered into pieces, already once broken and barely just starting to stick together again was so prone to breaking down even more.

And so Astarion sat and watched how the last remains of sunlight slowly got drawn from the skies every evening. Observed how the colours changed from simmering, liquid gold at the rim and got drowned out by all shades of the colour blue imaginable. Like a curtain dragged down over the city ever so slowly - until glittering stars and a vibrant moon brought some solace with their silver light. As if offering a soft caress as a small apology to the vampire who would have to make do with them instead from now on.

And you sat with him every night, trying to offer additional comfort even though you knew that even you couldn’t substitute all the warmth of golden daylight. At least you wanted to be there for him while he was trying to mend the pieces as best he could.

It might not have been healthy how Astarion clung to shreds of what was left. But could you really blame him? You saw the pain in his crimson eyes every evening once he had settled down to watch, how he practically made himself sit through the pain time and time again. It tortured you.

But you also noticed the spark on his face, at least a silver lining. When he smiled and whispered to himself how beautiful it looked. “Almost as beautiful as you,” he joked sometimes. And then you smiled at him or kissed him. But not for too long as to not to keep him from his moment of serenity.

Mostly the two of you remained silent. You needn’t speak about this, it was an unspoken agreement between you. And a lot of thoughts must be going through Astarion’s mind at any given time. Two centuries were a hefty time span to sort through. And you felt he needed these moments to slowly work through it. To patiently let the major dust storm settle and see how pieces fit together after that. So usually you just stayed with him, observed him as much as the sunset sky, while you hoped you’d be a piece in the puzzle once he would have figured it all out.

Today you had quickly went down to the taproom to get yourself a mug of hot tea while Astarion had already flung open the window to perform his routine.

When you returned he was already there, head leaning against the window frame, one leg up and angled, softly swaying to a melody only the vampire heard.

Kneeling down in front of the window on a pillow you set down your cup on the window sill and then your head on top of your arms right next to it. Vapour curled lazily from the boiling hot beverage you’d brought for yourself, dissipating somewhere towards its way up to the flamboyant sunset.

The sky was different today. Mixed with the usual oranges, yellows and and blues was a breathtaking blend of purples and pinks, stroked over with some soft sheens of clouds that glowed even more vibrantly with the unusual colours.

Astarion was mesmerised, mouth slightly agape, as if he’d never seen something similar. Truly the way he could admire every single instance of the sky darkening slowly had you in awe and broke your heart simultaneously.

The vampire loved beautiful things, loved to look at them, again and again. And if that was what remained, he would hold onto it.

You took him in, took careful note of how his profile outlined darkly against the softer pastels of the early night, eyes shining. The warm light tones painted him softly - in a way that made your heart ache even more.

Astarion noticed you watch him and smiled at you lovingly - and just a little wicked. You hoped you saw a tiny bit less aching in it today. He stretched out his hand to stroke your hair softly while not breaking eye contact. He admired you very similarly to how you had been looking at him. And to how he previously had drank in the dusk sky.

Tonight his eyes didn’t stray from you while the colours slowly gave way to the darkness of the night.

The pain and the beauty of sunsets might be fleeting. Always prone to betray one.

But you were there. And you stayed even beyond darkness.

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