#Someone check on herb

[holyblanchett]

I'm just thinking about the poor residents of Westview. They survived Wandavision only to have Agatha and Rio tearing the neighborhood up again after breaking up for the millionth time three years later. They just can't catch a break.

[organchordsandlightning]

Stardew Valley: checking things off my to do list (affectionate)

Pathologic: checking things off my to do list (derogatory)

[joonie-beanie]

Doctor's Orders | [Wriothesley x Reader]

Summary: “Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.” In which a simple tea time turns heated, and you get caught up in the consequence of Wriothesley not listening to his doctor. Content: Smut, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Aphrodisiacs, fem!reader Word Count: 7.9k

Sigewinne is evil.

You would have never suspected that such a tiny, cute body could contain so much malevolence. (Although, Sigewinne would personally argue that you’re confused, and that the word you’re looking for is actually benevolence. But, you digress.)

It all starts a few weeks into your employment at the Fortress of Meropide.

You’d spotted a job listing for a “personal assistant” in passing one day, and had immediately become interested thanks to the very generous salary listed on the paper. Seeing the job was located in Fontaine’s unofficial prison had, of course, caused you to have some second thoughts about applying, but at the end of the day, money is money.

Which is how you’d found yourself down on the ocean floor, waiting with a few other candidates outside the Duke’s office.

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t nervous—waiting there to meet the head honcho of the prison. That when he stepped out to call you inside for your interview—all tall and beefy and scarred—your heart didn’t nervously flutter inside your chest.

…but to your surprise, he’s actually much softer than he appears.

“So,” he says, sitting down across from you at his desk. He folds his arms and smiles at you. “Why should I hire you? ”

Having been through this process before, you had immediately rattled off your qualifications and experiences. A few of which Wriothesley had proceeded to comment on and inquire about further. But it wasn’t until he asked—

“What benefit will I receive from picking you specifically?”

And you’d responded with—

“Errand girl.”

“What?”

“I can run errands for you. I’m sure the guards can be slow, going back and forth. But if you’re my direct employer, I can do whatever you want. Drop documents off, check in on things…pick up more tea.”

—that Wriothesley finally makes up his mind.

“Hmm. Very convincing.”

The next day, you receive a letter with the terms of your employment, and your official start date.

So, since then, you’ve been working for Wriothesley. Which is actually kind of…nice.

Your job mostly consists of going back and forth between the prison and the surface, so that Wriothesley can stay in the Fortress and better monitor his domain. The autonomy the job grants you is very rewarding, and in the same breath, Wriothesley also feels rewarded by how you take care of things without him needing to ask more than once.

Safe to say, the two of you get along.

…which Sigewinne notices.

You, of course, meet Sigewinne on your first day. Wriothesley makes a point of introducing you and showing you where the nurse’s office is located, in case you get hurt, or need to drop something off.

The human-like melusine enthusiastically welcomes you, and, at first, you see her as…someone sweet, and caring. A treasure of the prison.

However, over time, your opinion of her slowly starts to change.

Because she keeps looking at you. Specifically, whenever you’re standing next to Wriothesley.

“Why is she doing that?” you ask him one day, nudging him gently with your elbow. He immediately looks up from his meal, over to where Sigewinne is waiting in the lunch line, her pink eyes boring into you.

“She’s probably just double checking that you’re healthy,” Wriothesley responds, paying her no mind. “I often catch her staring at me, too. You must be growing on her.”

Despite his reassuring words, you can’t help but feel a little…put off…by the look in her eyes. Like she’s plotting something.

The second weird thing you notice is when you walk into the infirmary to drop off some herbs she’d asked for, and find her drawing. At first, you assume she’s doodling, since she seems kid-like a lot of the time.

But instead, when you lean over her shoulder and look, you see that she’s writing words. A big, black “DO NOT DISTURB”...with pink hearts and a few flowers drawn around it.

“What’s that for?” you ask her, forcing a smile.

“Oh! It’s just for a project I’m working on,” she responds, swiveling in her chair to face you. She happily kicks her feet, her eyes darting to the herbs you’re carrying with you.

“Ah, are those what I asked for? Thank you!”

You hand her the small bundle of dried flowers and grasses, watching as she immediately turns and places them on her desk next to some string, and cheesecloth.

“You’re welcome,” you respond, taking a small step backwards. “If that’s all, I’ll keep working on the rest of the tasks on my list—”

“Wait,” she says, grabbing your wrist. You instantly freeze, your eyes going wide as you turn back to face her. There’s a serious look on her face.

“How do you feel about Wriothesley?”

Her question makes your heart skip—heat rising on your skin.

“What?”

She doesn’t bother elaborating or giving you context, just waits for you to respond. You cough a little, feeling awkward, and wondering what kind of answer she’s looking for.

“Well…I mean. I think he’s a good boss. He’s friendly, and devoted to his job. He runs the prison well.”

Sigewinne nods, but doesn’t comment. Just keeps…staring.

Feeling pressured, you force yourself to think of more to say.

“Um…he’s deserving of his title and the respect he garners. I…enjoy speaking with him? Like when he invites me to partake in tea breaks. I dunno…he just kinda reminds me of a big, fluffy puppy. He looks scary but he’s actually pretty…cute, y’know?”

Finally, Sigewinne smiles. She takes your hand in her tiny ones, giving it a squeeze.

“Thank you for answering my question. You can go now.”

You blink at her dumbly, but nonetheless excuse yourself from the room.

Two days later, Wriothesley invites you to his office for tea. And to your surprise, when you walk in, you find Sigewinne waiting there as well.

“Thank you for coming!” she says as you enter the room. You flash her a smile, taking a seat in one of the open chairs around the table.

“Of course!”

“Sigewinne has a tea she wants us both to try,” Wriothesley explains, a fond look in his eyes as he watches the resident nurse flit around—pouring hot water into the teacups that have been set out.

You nod.

“I see.”

“Although, I don’t know why you won’t just steep the tea in the pot,” Wriothesley complains to her, just as Sigewinne places individual tea bags in each cup. “Are we not all being served the same tea?”

She cutely huffs.

“For your information, no we are not. Your and Y/N’s tea is unique.”

“Oh?” Wriothesley leans forward to look into the teacups as the colors from the herbs begin to bleed into the water. “What’s so unique about it?”

“You’ll see,” she responds with a playful look, one that causes Wriothesley to amusedly raise his eyebrows. However, he doesn’t say anything more—simply waiting for the tea to appropriately steep.

“...are you using the herbs I brought you?”

You can’t help but notice the smell wafting from the cup in front of you is a little familiar. Sigewinne nods.

“Wow! I’m surprised you noticed.”

“Ah, so this must be the reason you wanted me to lend you Y/N for a task the other day,” Wriothesley chimes in, his icy blue eyes once again shifting to Sigewinne. 

“Do I get to know what herbs you requested Y/N to bring you, exactly?”

The resident nurse shakes her head, quietly laughing when Wriothesley sighs and deflates back into his chair. 

“It’s meant to be a surprise! I want to see what you think about the taste without knowing the ingredients.”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

Folding your hands on your lap, the office descends into silence for a brief moment, the three of you intently watching the teacups in front of you. Then, Sigewinne finally claps her hands and declares—

“Okay, they’ve steeped long enough. Go ahead!”

“Finally,” Wriothesley happily mumbles, reaching forward to pick up the pristine little plate on which his cup of tea resides. He brings the cup to his nose, inhaling deeply, and then takes a tentative sip.

“Hmm…”

He frowns, his brows pinching as he tries to discern the flavors he’s tasting. 

Curiosity getting the better of you, you take a sip from your own cup—wincing as the hot liquid accidentally burns your tongue.

“So?” Sigewinne prompts, staring excitedly between the two of you.

“It’s…pleasant,” you respond, clearly not as big of a tea connoisseur as the Duke. “It has a hint of sweetness.”

“It tastes like a Rainbow Rose smells,” Wriothesley adds, taking another sip. His gaze slides to you. “Did you pick some for her?”

You shake your head.

“No, I didn’t. Or…at least I didn’t pick any fresh ones. I did go to a vendor and purchase something in a bottle that looked like crushed, pink dust.”

Sigewinne cutely laughs. 

“As expected of you, Your Grace. Yes, one of the ingredients is dried Rainbow Rose petals. Do you like it?”

Wriothesley makes a pleased sound.

“I do. The taste is light, but pleasant—like Y/N said.”

“Good! I want both of you to drink up.” 

Sigewinne finally picks up her own tea, and you can’t help but notice the difference in color when compared to yours and Wriothesley’s. She really is drinking something different…but why?

“Aye aye, captain,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne laugh. You smile at the cute interaction between them, and have some more of your tea as well.

Together, the three of you engage in friendly conversation—catching up about recent topics while indulging in tea and a few different snacks that Wriothesley had pulled out for the occasion. As you drink, you can’t help but notice you feel…warm. A heat that spreads out from your stomach, and slowly creeps into your limbs.

You’ve never felt this way before but…maybe the tea is just extra hot today? 

You glance up to Wriothesley and notice that he’s a little flushed as well. Which is…reassuring? You think. Since you’re obviously not the only one affected.

“Oh! Y/N!” 

Sigewinne’s sudden call of your name draws you from your thoughts, and you look over at her. She smiles.

“I forgot to ask, but are you dating anyone?”

“Sigewinne,” Wriothesley gently scolds. He leans forward and sets his teacup on the table, the cup now empty.

His tone practically says “It’s not appropriate to ask questions like that” without actually saying it. Sigewinne pouts.

“Aww, c’mon. We’re all friends here! I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

Hearing that the melusine considers you to be a friend, you decide to grace her with an answer—ignoring the tingling of the taste buds on your tongue.

“No, I am not seeing anyone,” you inform her with a polite smile. Sigewinne nods happily at your answer, which makes your smile waver.

Is she happy you’re single?? Ouch.

“Okay, good,” she says. “I’d feel a little bad, otherwise.”

You blink in confusion at her words, watching her as she pops off her chair and heads towards the door. Wriothesley raises an eyebrow at her.

There’s sweat beading on his brow.

“Where are you going?”

“Away,” she responds. “To give you two some privacy.”

You and Wriothesley glance at each other, mirroring each other’s confusion.

Your tummy starts to ache.

“Why are you leaving us alone, exactly?”

Stopping just in front of the office doors, Sigewinne turns on her heel to face the two of you. There’s a smug grin on her face. 

“This is what happens when you don’t follow doctor’s orders.”

You frown, raising a hand to your chest, wondering why your heart is suddenly racing. 

What’s this about doctor’s orders?

You glance over at Wriothesley…only to see that he’s frozen in shock—his eyes wide with realization.

His pants feel too tight.

“Sigewinne, you did not—”

There’s an edge to his voice when he speaks, his eyes narrowing. He plants his feet on the floor and prepares to stand and confront her, but before he can blink, Sigewinne has drawn her pistol—a tranquilizing bullet hitting him square in the chest, where a little patch of skin is showing. 

He makes a noise of surprise, and quickly flops back into his chair to avoid falling on the floor—his limbs immediately going numb.

“Sigewinne!” you gasp. You’re not sure what’s going on, but the fact that she’d just shot Wriothesley is…

“It’s okay,” she says with a little sigh. “The effect will wear off in a few minutes. And…I’m sorry I scared you. Let me explain…”

She holsters her gun and smiles at you, trying to calm you down.

“As the nurse of the Fortress of Meropide, it is my duty to look after all residents, including Your Grace. And over the last few months, I’ve noticed him becoming more… irritable.”

“Sigewinne…,” Wriothesley mumbles, but the girl waves him off.

“After observing him for a while, I realized that his stress levels were getting high. And as his doctor, I recommended him a way to manage his stress, but he refused. He insisted tea was enough to soothe his nerves, but that’s simply not true. So…when you started working here, and I saw how well the two of you were getting along, I…got an idea.”

Sigewinne glances over at Wriothesley, noticing how he’s begun to shift his boots against the floor. 

Her tranquilizers won’t be in effect much longer. They never work as well on people Wriothesley’s size…

So, she decides to cut to the chase.

Reaching into her pocket, Sigewinne pulls out the DO NOT DISTURB sign you’d seen her making the other day. She holds it in front of her, and beams at you.

“Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.”

“You…you drugged us?” you gape, completely thrown by everything she’s just told you. She immediately gets defensive, her cheeks puffing.

“I medicated you,” she corrects. “And in the end, I’m only acting as a doctor. This all could have been avoided if Your Grace had just taken care of his own needs, as I’d insisted. Since he didn’t, I could only logically assume it's because it’s his preference to have a partner, rather than going at it solo. So, if you want to blame anyone for this, please blame him.”

“Sigewinne—” 

Gripping the arms of his chair, Wriothesley breathes out a heavy sigh and begins to push himself up. You can’t help but notice his face is much redder now, and you’re not sure if it’s from embarrassment, the effects of the drugs, or both.

Seeing that Wriothesley has nearly regained his strength, Sigewinne hurries to exit his office.

“Anyway! The effects of the tea should wear off in a few hours, but only if you relieve yourselves. Otherwise, it will last much longer. So I suggest you let loose and indulge yourselves. You like each other! Enjoy this time!”

Wriothesley opens his mouth to say something, but his words catch in his throat the second Sigewinne opens his office door. He doesn’t want anyone outside of his office walls to hear him or know what’s going on.

“I’ll hang this sign on the door,” Sigewinne continues, her voice hushing. “So no one comes in while you two are…busy. Just remove it once you’re done, okay? Have fun!”

With a supportive little fist pump, Sigewinne then closes the door, leaving you and Wriothesley alone.

A few long beats of silence pass, then Wriothesley finally sighs.

"I…apologize for this. I never meant for you to get roped in."

You turn to look at him, only to find that he's standing with his back to you, his hand raising to rub at the back of his head.

You can see his muscles flexing as he does so, and you hate to admit that it causes the heat inside you to grow.

"It's…not your fault," you respond, laughing a little awkwardly. "I doubt it's easy to follow directions when your doctor tells you to jack off to rectify your hardass-ness."

Wriothesley glances at you over his shoulder.

"Have I been acting like a hardass?"

"You've been a little snippy at times," you tell him, smoothing your sweaty palms down your legs. Seriously, your clothes are starting to make you feel claustrophobic…

"Not to me, specifically. But I've noticed it towards some of the prison residents."

"Shit," he sighs, rubbing his temples. You continue to watch him, your eyes wandering the expanse of his back. For a second, you don't understand why he won't face you. Then it clicks.

"...are you…hard? Is that why you're not turning around?"

"It's…pretty bad," Wriothesley admits, his shoulder sagging in defeat. "I don't know what all was in that tea but…as an aphrodisiac, it's doing its job."

"Yeah…," you agree, swallowing heavily. You can feel wet arousal pooling on the fabric of your panties. His office has also started to feel like a sauna, but you're not sure if it's the air that's hot, or your body.

However, you're still not willing to breach the topic of "relief" with him. You haven't reached that level of desperation…yet .

So, you think of something else to carry the conversation in the meantime.

"So…Sigewinne said you like me?"

"Ah, you caught that."

He laughs a little, and begins pacing around the room, still careful to keep his back to you. You can't help but notice his stride is a little…impeded.

"If I'm being frank—yes, I do. You've been…a pleasure to have around, since I hired you. Actually, one of the reasons I picked you in the first place was because of how you acted during your interview. Most people are scared of me and therefore talk cautiously. You're certainly respectful, of course, but…you're a bit playful, as well. And I found that quality to be attractive."

"Ah, so I charmed you," you respond playfully. "Remind me to add that point to my resume later. "Managed to woo the Lord of the Fortress of Meropide". That sounds pretty good—"

"And there you go again," Wriothesley laughs. He steps behind the chair he'd been sitting in previously, and then finally turns to face you—the back of the chair tall enough that his lower half is out of sight. 

"Although, if I recall her words correctly, Sigewinne stated that we "like each other". So, is there something you'd like to say as well?"

Your eyes go wide, and you feel more blood rush into your head. Wriothesley smiles, wide enough to show teeth. 

"C’mon now. It's not fair that I praise you and get nothing in return."

You pout.

"To be fair, I didn't know why Sigewinne suddenly asked me what I thought of you…"

"That’s understandable, but still. I'd like to know what you told her."

Wriothesley maintains his playful demeanor, despite the way his knuckles begin to turn white at his sides—a deep-seated need slowly sinking its claws into him.

You sigh.

"I just…told her that you're a good boss, and are deserving of your titles and the respect you garner…"

You trail off, suddenly remembering the last thing you'd told Sigewinne during that conversation. Wriothesley clearly notices there's something you're leaving out, one of his eyebrows raising.

"And?"

You take a deep breath.

"That you're a cute puppy."

He blinks in shock.

"...excuse me?"

Oh god, you wanna phase through the floor.

"I said that even though you look scary, you're really just like a big…cute…puppy."

For a moment, Wriothesley can only stare at you. Then, he throws his head back and laughs. 

Embarrassed, you plant your palms on your thighs and push to your feet, instinctively wanting to run away…only to realize that your legs have gone weak. 

With a distraught noise, you flop back into your chair. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Wriothesley notices.

He coughs, pulling himself back together.

"Well, I've certainly never heard myself described in such a way before. I can't say I totally hate it, but I'm not sure if I agree with the term "puppy"."

You force an awkward laugh, finally losing steam as the arousal inside you begins to cloud your thoughts. Sigewinne obviously wasn't messing around when making her aphrodisiac…you've never felt so horny before that it has literally hindered your mental and physical faculties.

The office is silent for a few tense moments, but finally, Wriothesley heaves a heavy sigh. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his shoulders slumping as he hangs his head.

"You may revoke your good opinion of me, considering how inappropriate it is for a boss to even consider such a thing, but…I think my dick is gonna explode soon, so I'll just come out and ask."

You swallow, anticipating his next words.

"Would you be…interested in having sex?"

Your body shivers in excitement at the idea, the lustful part of your brain screaming at you to jump him already.

"I…would," you admit, managing to keep it together. Wriothesley's entire body jolts impatiently at your words, but he’s able to keep himself grounded. 

"I don't think I'll be able to survive…this without some relief. And…I trust you. So…"

"So we're in agreement," Wrioslethely supplies, waiting for your confirmation. You nod your head. 

"We are."

In the next beat, he's is crossing the space between you, a "thank god" barely making it past his lips before he crashes them into yours.

Immediately, you’re groaning into him—your arms wrapping around his neck and his hands finding the backs of your thighs. He lifts you from your chair easily—your chests pressing together as he holds you close.

You’ve always been acutely aware of how large Wriothesley is, but you don’t think it fully sinks in until now—as he manhandles you with ease, quite literally carrying you with one arm as the other sneaks beneath your shirt and tugs it over your head.

You’re forced to break the kiss as he does so, but the second the fabric has been discarded, you’re tangling your fingers in his hair and dragging him in for another. 

Your action evokes a pleased little rumble inside his chest.

“You taste sweet,” he mumbles, his palm roaming over the exposed skin of your back. The warmth of his skin against yours makes you ache.

“It’s probably the aphrodisiac,” you reply breathlessly, a shiver raking your spine when you feel his fingers toy at the waistband of your pants.

“Hmm, shall we posit your theory?”

Before you can even think to ask what he means, the room is spinning—too many things happening at once. However, it’s nearly impossible to miss the feel of your pants being shucked down your legs.

When everything settles, you find that you’re no longer chest to chest with Wriothesley, but rather, face to dick.

“Wh—”

Your cheeks heat up as you finally digest the position he’s put you in—your ass in his face, and his crotch in yours—his body now firmly planted in a chair as he spreads his thighs and makes himself comfortable.

“Wriothesley!” you say in shock, your palms gripping his legs for support as you attempt to turn and face him. However, you quickly realize with the position he has chosen, you’re fairly helpless to do anything—completely at his mercy as he locks his arms around your legs and grips your ass in his hands.

“Hm?” he responds nonchalantly, one of his fingers slipping under the edge of your panties. You shift a little, trying to glare at him, but only succeed in having his clothed dick poke you in the cheek. He tenses at the sensation, and you feel his cock strain helplessly against the fabric of his pants—begging for more friction.

“I’m just testing your theory, like I said,” he continues, a surprised mewl tearing from your throat as he leans his head forward and nuzzles his nose in the damp fabric of your panties.

“If you think it’s the aphrodisiac making you sweet, let’s see if it’s also having that effect elsewhere—”

Before you can protest, Wriothesley is tugging the crotch of your underwear aside—his tongue licking a hot, languid strip between your folds. You gasp at the feeling, your nails digging into his thighs through the layer of clothes that he wears.

Above you, the Duke makes a pleased sound, repeating his previous action—noting the way your body writhes against his hold. His fingers grip your ass tighter, his brows furrowing as he presses his tongue inside your entrance—your arousal quickly coating his taste buds.

“Yep,” he mutters after a moment, his voice tight and his throat bobbing as he harshly swallows. “You taste…addicting.”

His words have your cunt squeezing around nothing, although he quickly dives back in and rectifies that problem—stretching your walls out around his tongue. 

“Fuck…,” you pant, your head dropping as your strength wanes. Your muscles progressively start to feel like jelly, thanks to his ministrations. Especially, when he moves his mouth to your clit and begins rolling his tongue around it—a whine escaping you as the desire inside of you sears white hot.

And yet, despite the way Wriothesley presses on—groaning into your pussy as he eats you out—you’d be remiss to forget about the fact that he’s currently affected by the aphrodisiac as well, and has his own needs that need to be taken care of.

So, gathering what strength you have, you manage to push yourself up onto your forearms—your hands moving to the waistband of his pants. You frantically work open the button and zipper of his slacks, and then hook your fingers under the elastic of his underwear, tugging the band down.

…only to have his freed cock immediately spring up and smack you in the face.

Your eyes go wide, and in normal circumstances, you’d expect Wriothesley to laugh at the comedy of what has just occurred. However, too immersed in the way your cunt tastes and feels, and the way your body continues to twitch in his hold, he doesn’t even notice. And, too amazed by the sheer size of Wriothesley’s dick as you finally lean your head back and get a good look at him, you don’t bother saying anything.

No, instead you simply part your lips and take the head of his cock into your mouth—sucking lightly, your tongue teasing at his slit. The groan that’s immediately torn from his throat is involuntary—the sound becoming muffled by your pussy as he momentarily stops to savor the feeling of your mouth on his dick—your tongue flattening on the underside of his shaft as you slowly take more of him into your mouth.

Then, he goes back to eating you out with renewed fervor—your eyes nearly rolling back into your skull when he sucks at your clit.

The room quickly fills with the sound of sloppy and messy oral, your head bobbing up and down Wriothesley’s cock. Saliva drips down his length, his pre-cum smearing against your tongue, and you can’t help but moan.

Everything feels so good—from Wriothesley’s tongue on your cunt, to the way his cock fills up your mouth…

“Fuck,” Wriothesley growls. His fingers move to pull at the folds of your pussy, spreading you open wider. You can feel his hot breath on your skin as he moves his mouth back to your clit, where he then stays—his tongue flicking rhythmically against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The pace and motion he settles on is one that you know will very quickly damn you, and he figures this out as well based on the way your thighs begin to shake in his grasp. Your body attempts to jolt away from him—trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure he intends to give—but he leaves no wiggle room. He holds you tighter, enjoying the feeling of your mouth on his cock, and how your efforts slowly start to crumble along with your sanity.

“I…,” you mumble the word around dick, trying to warn him of the orgasm you can feel quickly approaching. Your entire body swims with arousal, your head feeling light. 

“Keep going, sweetheart,” he pants. “Let’s cum together.”

You feel his cock throb against your tongue, and, dutifully, you do your best to continue sucking him off—your lips once again suctioning around his shaft. Your actions immediately evoke a pleased groan from the Duke, and you feel his thighs tense in your grasp—his own orgasm quickly approaching.

However, despite your best efforts to continue, everything falls apart the second your climax finally crests.

With a cry, you come undone—your body writhing in his hold. You go brainless almost immediately, the strength in your arms wavering, and Wriothesley’s cock stuffing into your cheek—your hot breath fanning over his length.

Luckily, the vulgarity of the entire situation is enough to push Wriothesley over the finish line—his dick painting the inside of your mouth with his cum. And to his surprise, once he’s spent, you actually pull your head back, close your lips, and swallow.

Shit, he thinks. 

His dick is just starting to soften, and yet somehow, it’s also already getting hard again.

There’s a few beats of quiet that are filled only with the sound of you and Wriothesley panting. Then, once he’s caught his breath, he says—

“Let’s get you right side up.”

—and the world spins again.

Honestly, the fact that he can manhandle you this easily is criminal.

“You okay?” he asks, sitting you on one of his thighs. He brushes a few stray hairs from your face, staring at you with a hint of concern.

You nod your head, grateful that the carnal desire you’ve been afflicted with is clearly less, now that you and Wriothesley have both gotten off. But…even despite that, you still feel hot and tingly. Like you want more.

You glance down at his lap.

“Mmm. Seems like you’re in the same predicament as me.”

“Think you can handle another round?” he asks. You meet his eyes, playfully raising your eyebrows.

“I’m almost tempted to say no, and see what you do.”

Wriothesley rolls his eyes, his hands grabbing your waist, and in the next moment, you find yourself slung over his shoulder.

“Hey—!” you protest, attempting to look at him, but he only caresses your ass with his free hand.

“If you have that much spunk left in you, you can handle another round,” he says, carrying you down the nearby staircase, to the floor below his office. “But, I’ll be kind this time and make you more comfortable.”

His boots echo against the metal floor as he walks, and for a second, you wonder where exactly he’s taking you. But, soon after, Wriothesley pushes through a nearby door, and you find yourself in a moderately sized bedroom.

It must be his, you realize, feeling a little silly that you’d never pondered before now where the Master of the prison actually sleeps.

“Here we are.”

Wriothesley gently deposits you onto his bed, and then immediately reaches for his tie. You watch him with bated breath, your heart doing a tiny flip as you realize that he’s finally stripping out of his clothes. He opts to leave on the leather belts encircling his arms and neck, instead focusing the bulk of his time on shedding his suit, and undoing the many buckles on his boots. 

By the time he’s finished—his erect cock once again sitting heavy between his legs—you’re practically drooling at the sight of him.

His lips twitch into a little smile.

“I’m happy to know that you like what you see. However, in the time I spent undressing myself, you couldn’t be bothered to remove what little clothing you have left? C’mon now, are you waiting for me to wrestle you out of them?”

Still feeling cheeky, you flash him a grin.

“Hm, I’d like to see you try.”

Wriothesley immediately cocks an eyebrow, his eyes glinting at the challenge you’ve just issued, and your attitude wavers, realizing what it is you’ve done. You open your mouth to say you’re only teasing—your hands already raising behind your back to undo the clasp of your bra—but it’s too late.

In one swift motion, Wriothesley grabs your ankle and twists you onto your stomach—his weight settling above you as he kneels onto the bed. You shiver when his knuckles brush against your skin—his fingers swiftly undoing your bra.

“You’re just a little brat, aren’t you…” 

He speaks the words fondly, with a hint of amusement, and yet, they still go straight to your cunt. 

“Don’t say things like that,” you respond, instinctively raising your hips when Wriothesley hooks his fingers on your underwear and begins tugging them down your thighs. He stares intently at your backside as he does so, an idea popping into his mind.

“Why? Because you like it too much?”

He discards your panties on the floor along with the rest of the clothes you’d both shed, and then grabs your knees, forcing you to spread your legs, so he can properly settle between them. 

Another blush rises on your face at his words, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. At your lack of response, Wriothesely continues.

“In my understanding, brats tend to like it a little rougher, so…” 

His hands ghost up your thighs, to your hips, and he grips you tightly—forcing your lower half off the bed until you’re propped up on your knees—his cock sitting heavy against your ass.

“...what say we continue like this, hm?”

Bracing yourself on your forearms, you turn your head back to look at him—your body tensing as you watch him fist his cock and drag it downward, between the lips of your pussy. 

His icy eyes catch yours.

“Any objection?”

“...no,” you mumble, your fingers anticipatedly fisting in the sheets. 

Wriothesley nods—

“Good.”

—and then presses the head of his cock inside you.

Immediately, you drop your forehead against the mattress—willing your body to relax for him as he slowly inches inside of you.

His tongue had certainly been enjoyable, but this? Fuck. Nothing compares to the sensation of him slowly stuffing you inch by inch—the girth of his cock positively delicious as he forces your cunt to stretch to accommodate him.

It’s so much that by the time he’s fully seated inside of you, your body is shaking—your breath coming out in quick, desperately little pants.

Seeing your reaction, Wriothesely soothes a hand up your spine, his warm palm settling between your shoulder blades. He decides to start slow—to give you a little more time to adjust to him. 

And honestly, he’d love to take his time in general—to really savor the sight of you beneath him, your cunt swallowing his cock so perfectly, but alas. The effects of the aphrodisiac make him impatient with need, and it’s not long before he’s moving faster—little gasps and whines finding their way past your lips as he begins fucking you back onto his cock.

“Ahh…seriously you’re…so fucking tight,” he curses. His fingers dig into the plush of your hip—his jaw clenching, and his racing heart pumping lust through his veins.

Your cunt clamping on his dick seriously might be his personal slice of heaven.

“Wrio, I—,” you can’t even get the words out, your brain short-circuiting. You can’t think straight anymore—not with his cock rubbing you in all the right spots, making a mess of your insides, and quickly rocketing you towards another—

Wait, no, it’s only been a minute—!

“Fuck! ” 

You choke the word out, your spine curving and your knuckles turning white as your second orgasm of the night is unexpectedly forced out of you—your pussy spasming around Wriothesley’s dick.

The last of your strength officially drained, you collapse forward onto the mattress, your cheek smushing into the covers.

…however, Wriothesley doesn’t allow your lower half to fall along with the rest of you—his hold on your hips keeping your twitching pussy firmly planted on his still-hard dick.

“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” he reminds you, his cock continuing to languidly drag between your walls, drawing out the tail end of your pleasure.

You can’t help but whimper at his words, already feeling a bit oversensitive thanks to two consecutive orgasms. Wriothesley does his best to soothe your frayed nerves.

Leaning over you, he gently tangles his fist in your hair—coaxing your head off the mattress so he can kiss you. 

The kiss is messy, but sweet—the angle of your bodies forcing his cock deeper inside of you, his hips completely flush against your ass.

“You’re doing so good,” he tells you, peppering a trail of kisses against your cheek, and across your jaw. His praise causes you to whimper, a shiver raking up your spine when his tongue drags across your skin—his teeth nipping at the nape of your neck.

His actions successfully get you to relax—your body becoming more pliable in his grasp as he once again begins to move. And soon enough, the wet sound of sex fills his bedroom once more.

Wanting to help him cum (and to feel his seed fill you), you do your best to help Wriothesley along—purposefully flexing the walls of your pussy as he fucks you. However, in doing so, you accidentally start yourself down the path of yet another orgasm…

Feeling the familiar, aching pleasure beginning to build inside of you once again, you quickly stop what you’re doing. You think that a third orgasm honestly might kill you, but…it’s too late.

Wriothesley has already noticed your growing arousal, and decides that he likes it better when the two of you cum together.

So, he sneaks one of his hands between the apex of your legs, and begins rubbing at your clit.

The garbled, desperate cry that leaves your mouth immediately becomes seared in his mind for a long time to come.

“No, Wrio, I…I can’t. I—”

Your words come out jumbled, tears beading on your lash line.

Momentarily removing his hand from your clit, he once again reaches forward and grips your hair—pulling your head back so he can kiss you. His lips swallow up your worries.

“You can,” he insists, his voice whispering in your ear, and his hot breath fanning over your skin. 

“I want you to cum with me, pretty girl. You can do it.”

You give no protest aside from a cute little whine, and that's good enough for Wriothesley.

Releasing your hair, his hand finds your clit once more.

He then proceeds to fuck you into the mattress—pursuing his orgasm with abandon. A groan leaves his mouth at the way your pussy starts clamping on his dick once again—tightening up with each pass of his fingers across your clit—your pussy slick and messy with your own arousal.

Unable to think straight, you can only hold on for dear life—clinging to his sheets like a lifeline. You can’t even process the sounds that are coming out of your own mouth—a damned, desperate symphony moans.

To Wriothesley, it all sounds like a siren's cry—beckoning him closer to the edge.

“Shit,” he pants, feeling his cock throb, and his balls tighten. The motion of his fingers on your clit quickens—your toes curling as the coil of pleasure in your tummy continues to wind—so close to snapping.

Sweat beading on his brow, Wriothesley leans forward, curling his body against yours. His teeth nip at the shell of your ear, his husky voice sending goosebumps across your skin.

“So good for me…,” he breathes, his hips smacking into your ass. His broad strokes deteriorate into needy rutting, and the sensation has you quite literally sobbing—his cock now incessantly grinding into your g-spot.

You can’t take it anymore.

Shoving your face into the mattress, you bite the sheets and scream—your entire body shaking as you cum for a third time, your cunt milking around Wriothesley’s cock.

He curses at the feeling, his face burying in your neck. Wrapping his arms around you, he hugs you to his body—fucking inside of you a few more times before finally joining you in ecstasy. 

His teeth sink into you as his orgasms peaks, a heady groan muffled against your skin as his balls empty—pumping you full of his cum.

It’s not until the intensity of his pleasure has died down that Wriothesley ultimately releases you from his hold—your lower half immediately flopping down onto the bed, and his softening cock slipping out of you.

The Duke takes a moment to simply look at you, and how fucked out you are. Your eyes bleary, skin flushed, and the imprint of his teeth engraved in your flesh.

He grunts at the sight, and settles in beside you—his arm curling around your waist as he tugs you back against him. His tongue immediately begins lapping at the bite mark he’d inflicted, attempting to soothe the sting.

After a few seconds, you begin shaking, and Wriothesley immediately pauses, scared that he’s hurt you in some way.

…only to realize that you’re laughing.

“...puppy…”

He props himself up, glancing at you.

“What?”

“You really are like a puppy,” you giggle, your finger lifting to brush a stray tear from your eye. “The way you bit me, and then immediately started licking at it in apology. So cute…”

You break into another tiny fit of laughter, and Wriothesley rolls his eyes, yet can’t help cracking a smile.

“Well, I’m glad to know I didn’t break you, at the very least.”

His hand rubs against your waist.

“...right?”

Finally getting ahold of yourself, you roll onto your back and smile at him, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek. He immediately leans into your touch, and it makes your heart flutter.

“I’m not broken, no. Just…sore. And gross. And sweaty.”

Wriothesley chuckles.

“Well, I think I can rectify some of those issues. I do have a bathroom, with a tub.”

“Wow,” you respond, watching him as he scoots to the edge of the mattress and gets to his feet. He waits a second for you to join him, but you don’t move.

“My…limbs feel like jello,” you admit, raising your arm and flopping it back down bonelessly for emphasis. Wriothesley rolls his eyes, but nonetheless leans over the bed and scoops you into his arms.

You rest your cheek against his chest, admiring for the first time how soft it really is.

“Whatever shall I do with you,” he playfully sighs, carrying you into the adjacent bathroom. He sets you on the vanity, moving over to the tub and turning on the tap for the hot water. You hum.

“Mmm, I can think of a few things you can do. The first of which is helping me into the bath once it’s ready.”

Wriothesley quietly chuckles. Returning to your side, he takes your hand, and brings it to his lips.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Once the tub has filled, the Duke keeps true to his word—once again carefully cradling you in his arms as he seats himself in the tub basin, before positioning you in the space between his legs.

The steaming water immediately soothes the ache of your body, and you sigh in relief—sinking back against Wriothesley’s body. He lightly wraps one arm around your waist, the other resting on the edge of the tub.

For a few long minutes, the two of you bask in silence, simply enjoying the refreshing feel of the bath. 

…then, you start to notice something beginning to grow—pressing at your back.

“...really? Is the aphrodisiac still getting to you that much?”

“No,” he admits after a beat, leaning forward to kiss your neck. “I think this one is actually all me.”

You roll your eyes, but nonetheless crane your head to the side—allowing him access to more of your skin as his mouth begins to wander.

“I thought I made it clear that my limbs are jello right now.”

“I can work with that,” he responds, and you feel him grin. His hand slowly trails down your stomach, and between your legs.

“I’ll do all the work. You just get to make pretty sounds and feel good.”

His fingers slide between the folds of your pussy, and you jolt as he passes over your overly-sensitive clit. But seriously…how are you going to say no to him?

“What am I going to do with you?” you sigh, echoing his earlier words. His chest rumbles with laughter, and he grabs your chin with his free hand—turning your head so he can kiss you.

“Mmm, I can think of a few things.”

The next morning, you find yourself in a back in your clothes, standing beside Wriothesley just inside his office door.

“I’ll go first,” you say, to which he nods. “I have some errands to run anyway. You can wait a minute and then come out after me.”

“Sounds good.”

The two of you stare at each other for a second, before you finally square your shoulders, and reach for the door handle. 

Before you can twist it, Wriothesley catches your wrist. When you look back at him, you find that there’s a blush on his cheeks.

“So, I’ll…see you later?”

His suddenly bashful demeanor causes you to smile. Pressing onto your toes, you cup his cheeks and softly kiss him. He immediately grabs your waist—deepening the kiss.

“You’ll see me later,” you promise. 

With that, the two of you finally separate, and you disappear through his office door.

Wriothesley takes a deep breath at your departure, combing a hand through his hair as he waits for the right moment to make his own exit.

To be safe, he decides to wait a good few minutes. But finally, he opens his door—preparing to venture into the main area of the fortress, and make his normal rounds.

…however, he only makes it a step before remembering the sign Sigewinne had made.

With a sigh, he immediately backtracks and tears the DO NOT DISTURB sign off of his door, crumpling it between his palms.

When he turns back around, he nearly jumps—Sigewinne standing right in front of him.

“So,” she says, a pleased grin on her face. “How’d it go?”

Narrowing his eyes, Wriothesley only stares ahead, and walks past her. She easily follows after him.

“The fact that you’re out and about this early in the day means something likely happened between you and Y/N.”

“No comment,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne giggle. They pass by a few prisoners as Wriothesley makes a B-line for the elevator to the production zone. Once there, Sigewinne squeezes herself in along with him.

As the elevator begins to descend, only a few seconds pass in silence, before Sigewinne asks one last question.

“As your doctor, it’s my recommendation that you continue to regularly relieve your stress. So, are you going to be dutifully carrying out my orders from now on?”

Wriothesley makes a little face, glancing away from her.

“...maybe.”

Sigewinne smiles. 

That’s good enough for her.

[A Dragon's Constitution] ->

[ghosts-and-glory]

Is Shamura training martial arts after being taken into Lamb's cult? If they enjoyed complexity and bloodshed of war than it'd be probably dissapointing for them if they had to... drop it all

Full under the cut because this turned out really long

Upon joining the cult Shamura was a shell of their former self. They join the cult dissenting, the long term effects of the crown still clawing at the edges of their mind, but after a few days they’re mortal, just themself. Without the crown to hold them together they suffer like their injury was yesterday.

The Lamb has the doctor, Puar, perform their usual tests on them. Shamura is hardly there. They don’t know their own name, can hardly speak, can’t stand or track movement.

There was no wisdom in their slurred words. No power in the way their hands shook.

The outlook is bad.

The Lamb doesn’t really want to help them, after everything, why should they. Shamura who had The Lamb’s entire race and family killed, who killed them aswell and countless of their followers. It would cost them so much, to try and help someone who spent so long just trying to destroy them and everything they had. The time, energy, resources it would cost and they didn’t even know if they could get better.

Deciding it wasn’t worth it was one thing, but getting the other ex bishops to understand was a whole other, even the doctor disagreed with them.

Dr Puar took on being their primary caregiver. They’d been a doctor for the past hundred years and seen concussions and dementia but nothing nearly as severe as this. They wanted to help Shamura but didn’t know how.

It wasn’t until Narinder joined the cult that The Lamb saw any reason to help Shamura. But there was something wrong with him and Shamura knew something, they just had to get to it.

Kallamar was the ex bishop Puar wanted the help from the most. He was scared of the lamb and red crown but he loved Shamura more.

The Lamb took Puar and Kallamar to the ruins of the temples in Anchordeep and Silk Cradle. They spent days digging through the decimated remains of the libraries for something, anything on this type of injury.

It seemed that they where looking down possible years of intense recovery. Needed herbs and medicines that may no longer exist, techniques Puar had never heard of. But they would try.

Puar took careful and detailed notes. Timed Shamura’s responses, wrote down everything they said, tracked eating, drinking, sleeping and every symptom they displayed. Improvements where slow and sometimes nonexistent at first. They took full minutes to respond and only in single words, barley moved, couldn’t feed themselves and suffered constant migraines.

The one thing that seemed to help them the most was their siblings. They didn’t remember them most days but every time one of they came to check in it raised their spirits. One of their faces was the only thing they could focus on sometimes.

Kallamar insisted he wasn’t a doctor but still worked around the infirmary, helping Shamura was the only thing he’d do without complaining. Heket spent hours sitting in silence with them, brought them food and flowers and changed their bandages. Leshy was the only thing that could get them to smile and they where the only person he would ever lower his voice for, he told them stories even though they hardly listened.

Improvements brought new challenges. They got better at speaking full sentences and following conversations but it revealed how fractured their memory was. Forgetting names, places and important events, how often they forgot where they where, they asked the same questions over and over again.

They complained of seeing and hearing things, phantom pains with seemingly no rhyme or reason. The sun hurt their eyes, rain gave them headaches, always sleeping but always tired. They would suddenly backslide constantly. One day could walk with minimal help and the next, couldn’t even hold a pen in their hand. Have a full conversation one day and hardly spit out their name tomorrow.

Until the day Puar looked Shamura in the eye and for once they saw him. Didn’t look past them with their blank stare but looked at them. They would ask to sit outside at night in the fresh air. They seemed to know now who they are, what they where, what they lost. A tinge of grief in their words.

Improvements brought frustration. On days they remembered who they where they were overcome with a mix of anger, guilt and despair. They where a god. They had bore down on armies, killed men with a twitch of a finger, brought other gods to their knees, and now they could hardly bring a cup to their mouth.

Emotionally, their siblings said they’d never seen them like this before. Before Shamura could be frustrated but their temper was cold and quiet. Now they wore a short fuse and suffered constant mood swings. It angered them that they couldn’t read, that their hands were numb, that they couldn’t walk without a cane, couldn’t go out in the sun, couldn’t string a full sentence together, couldn’t recognize their siblings faces, couldn’t feed themselves, couldn’t sleep without drugs, everything they lacked and lost wore them down.

Regardless, they where unusually steadfast. They would always pick back up. If they got frustrated they would try again in a few days. They tried anything Puar asked of them, anything for the smallest iota of improvement.

The outlook was better.

—————

This got out of control and took me like three days between the art and write up. I got really excited when I saw this ask cause the answer is so devastating. If I was taking Narinder’s trauma seriously I’m not gonna just ignore Shamura’s traumatic brain injury.

As a side note, I’m very unsure how to write the medical stuff, my guess is that cotl is based around 1300’s-1700’s but that’s a wide net to cast. My excuse for the stronger understanding of medicine and trauma is magic.

[lovelybluebirdie]

What is yours

Astarion x gn!Reader

Summary: A stroll through the market evokes an unpleasant sensation in Astarion.

Word Count: 3,1k

hurt/comfort, jealousy, fluff

[ AO3 ]

The warm rays of the midday sun bathed the markets’ goods in a marvellous light. The place was bustling, a scent of spices lingering in the air and hurried voices brimming. 

If someone had told Astarion that one day he’d be able to move around Baldur’s Gate so freely again, he’d probably huffed merely a dry laugh – and yet here he was, following you through the narrow streets of his city, admiring how much colour the world had to offer.

Of course it was you who had dragged him along for the mundane task to gather some food for your companions back at camp. Astarion couldn't care less to fill up their bellies, as his own appetite was perfectly stilled from your generosity when it came to offer him your blood, but one blink from your doe eyes had been enough to convince him to accompany you.

Well, that, and perhaps that warm feeling that refused to leave his chest when he was with you. 

It was obvious that you loved to stroll around the market, savouring the colourful impressions while taking a break from all the fighting and gore your journey to rid yourself from the tadpoles held for you. 

Astarion had never watched you spending your coin so lightly before. You probably thought it was time to treat yourself once in a while, and who was he to deny you this little pleasure? He had to admit that he actually adored seeing your face light up over the different trinkets you bought, eagerly filling your bags and pouches with your newest additions.

“Let's get some fruit for the others while we’re at it,” you suggested, pointing towards a merchant presenting an inviting range of fresh goods. “Something nutritious seems much needed after we fed mostly on leftovers for the past weeks.”

Your shoulders were loaded with the various goods you had already bought – dyes, herbs, some new toys for Scratch and the owlbear cub and a bunch of flasks to fill with potions.

“As you wish,” Astarion replied, when a display of weapons caught his eye. His last pair of daggers had become rather blunt from the Goblin throats he’d cut, so maybe it was time to treat himself as well, he thought and gently grabbed your wrist.  

“On second thought, why don't you go ahead while I'll have another look around here, my love?” he asked and came to a stop. “I haven't much expertise to add when it comes to your culinary needs, and those daggers look rather appealing.”

“Sounds fine with me, but try not to spend all of our gold at once,” you teased and squeezed his shoulder.

“Hah, you're one to talk. Please remind me, who was it again that just bought five new toys for Scratch, so he had a set of different colours to choose from?”

“He needs some variety,” you muttered, trying to keep up a serious expression. “But nevermind, see you in a minute then.” 

You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and waved, already on your way to spend some more of your coin.

Astarion couldn’t help but smile over your excitement for the market, before he picked up a dagger from the display in front of him. The handle appeared to be of higher quality than his current ones, and the blade looked sharp enough to inflict some hurt.

As he gazed further through the wares, pondering which one would fit him best, he spared a glance to check on you. 

He spotted you a few stalls away at the fruit stand you had mentioned. The vendor you were talking to gesticulated wildly while presenting his wares, leading you to laugh.

Astarion frowned and put the dagger away to take a closer look.

The vendor was young, an elf with blond curls, and Astarion noticed that he wasn’t an unpleasant sight. 

He was immediately bothered by the smile you gave the other man, the way he touched your hands as he started to offer you bite-sized pieces of fruit to taste.

His fingers lingered too long against yours for Astarion’s liking.

As he continued to watch you from afar, something inside his belly started to seethe – hot and ugly.

A feeling he experienced before when it came to you, but couldn't quite grasp.

Well, whatever this was, Astarion certainly wasn’t jealous. Not of some random street vendor at least – and why should he be? Because you had smiled so sweetly at him? Or because you were laughing again as you took another piece of fruit from his filthy hands? 

What in the nine hells could be so entertaining about buying fruit anyway? 

It was ridiculous, really, and yet Astarion imagined how it would feel to rip the vendor's throat as punishment for daring to touch you. 

Would he bleed out quickly? Would he scream?

Astarion shook his head, shoving the violent image aside.

He remembered the previous occasions when that unpleasant burning inside his stomach had appeared. It was the moment Gale decided it was appropriate to show you his so-called magical weave, or the other day when Wyll proposed a dance to you. You had kindly rejected both of them, but Astarion was still not particularly impressed by their interest in you. 

He knew what others would seek from you. Why they wanted you. For the same reasons he enjoyed being with you: your compassion, the kindness you spread. Your special talent to make him feel seen. 

There was also your wit, the way you would crack a joke even in the most maddening situations, making him feel light. And not to mention, you were a beautiful vision if Astarion had ever seen one.

Of course there would be others who saw those qualities as well, aiming to claim you.

A sudden wave of anxiety flooded his mind, moulding an appaling image in his skull.

He wondered if one day you would prefer someone else over him.

Someone who would match your kindness – acting all selfless and heroic, indulging in activities he found little pleasure in.

Providing you with something Astarion might be unable to give you, ever, no matter how much he cared about you.

Hells, what if you were already seeking someone like that?

His stomach dropped.

The dreadful notion spread its relentless claws past his ribs, tearing holes in his dead heart.

Blood rushed to his ears.

Before he even realised, his feet were already dragging him towards you.

He needed to be close to you – doing anything to make this feeling stop.

When he arrived next to you, he placed a hand on the small of your back and grasped your tunic, a little tighter than he'd intended.

He tried his best to keep his composure.

“Are we all done here, my love?” he asked, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Oh, Astarion!” You smiled when you noticed him, unaware of his musings. Your pouch was filled to the brink with fresh fruits. “Yes, I guess that would be all.”

Astarion felt the need to pull you away, but before he came up with an excuse to leave immediately, the merchant was already addressing you again. 

“Think about it, will you?” A smug grin plastered that man’s face as he spoke to you, casually bending over his counter.

Astarion gave you a confused look.

Think about what? 

“Unfortunately there’s no time to join the tavern tonight, but thank you for the offer. Maybe next time,” you said amicably and packed up your wares.

What was that? 

Astarion thought he must have misheard.

“What a shame. Perhaps you can give it a second thought.” The vendor was still beaming at you, before he turned to Astarion. “Your friend can come too, of course.”

“Oh, that sounds splendid. We will think about it, will we, darling?”

Astarion bit his tongue, swallowing the impulse to spit a cutting remark on top of his obvious sarcasm.

What in the nine hells was this mongrel thinking, inviting you to the tavern? And how he was speaking to him – as if he was some irrelevant bystander.

“Let's see what we can do,” you said politely, already on your way to move on. “Have a nice day. And thank you again.”

“You as well,” replied the salesman and waved. 

Astarion gritted his teeth as he followed you through the busy alleyways, still processing what just happened.

The vendor's words appeared in his mind.

That man had obviously desired to fuck you, and wasn’t even trying to hide his advances.

How could he have dared.

Astarion regretted that he had acted so passive in that moment. Usually he wasn’t one to hesitate, always a sharp comment dancing on his tongue, and yet… the thought of losing you to someone else had shifted something in him, turning him small.

His fury grew.

Oh, how he would love to grab that despicable pig by his throat, banishing that filthy grin of his face. Making him bleed. But he knew that unlike him, you would gladly refrain from a public bloodbath, so he shoved away those violent fantasies, even if the fire continued to seeth in him – unpleasant and hot.

He tried to fathom what posed the worst about this whole ordeal: The way in which the man had aimed to claim you, or his fear that you enjoyed those cheap advances – possibly were fond of it even.

Astarion's mood couldn't have been more sour as you arrived at a secluded area, away from the markets bustling.

“Can you believe it? That seller insisted on giving me a discount,” you broke the silence and pointed proudly at the wares you had gathered. “And they say there are no kind people left in Baldur's Gate.”

And just as the words had left your throat, Astarion finally snapped.

“Is that so?” he hissed, baring his fangs. “How generous. What a nice, handsome gentleman he is, also inviting you to the tavern with him.” He spoke harsh – his tone cold and venomous. 

You came to an abrupt stop, resting the groceries on the ground and fixating your gaze on his, a furrow between your eyebrows. 

“What are you implying?” You sounded puzzled.

“Oh, don't act so naive, darling, you know what I'm implying. That man wanted to bed you, everyone could see it from the way he treated you. And by the laughs you offered him, you seemed to enjoy his attention as well, did you not? What a flirt you are.”

His accusations left a taste of ash in his mouth. Moments before his anger seemed directed at the man’s advances, and now his bottled-up wrath was boiling onto you.

The bewildered look on your face turned into something else, something sad, your eyes losing their shine. He sensed that he must’ve hurt you, and it tugged at his heartstrings.

“So, you’re jealous of that man, is that what this is about?”

“Me? Being jealous of some filthy street vendor?” Astarion scoffed, immediately falling back to his dramatics, gesticulating defensively with his hands. “Don't insult me, darling. I find it amusing that he thinks he can have you, and I didn’t fail to miss your interest in him,” he bit, almost choking on the dry chuckle that spilled from his lips.

“There was no interest from my side, other than purchasing some of his wares,” you explained. Then you opened your mouth again, sharply sucking air between your teeth, before your gaze softened. Your voice was calm, without spite or anger. “He recognized me, Astarion. From the article in the gazette. Slayer of the evil Ketheric Thorm and all that fuss. Does that ring a bell?” 

Of course he remembered. It was him that had to sneak past those giant steel watchers back at the gazette’s building, convincing the magical press to print an article in your favour. An article that wouldn’t taint your reputation, unlike the one Gortash had commissioned to derogate you. 

Astarion couldn’t deny that after the praising piece was published, you were indeed met with an unusual kindness from the people of Baldur's Gate. 

“Well, how could I forget?” Astarion's face twisted. “But that doesn't mean he didn't have something else in mind with you. Some people certainly would love to bury their blade inside a true hero for once, I can imagine.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Even if he did want to bed me, what does it matter?”

An icy grip twisted Astarion's chest. The image of you with someone else stung in his eyes, making him sick. 

Before he could growl another reply, you rested your hand on his arm, catching his fuming. “Hey – look at me, you silly goose.” 

Your tender touch was enough to quell the blazing flame in his belly. 

You spoke so warmly to him. So... loving.

Astarion rested his eyes on you and was met with an affectionate smile that disarmed him completely.

“Astarion, don’t you realise that I couldn't care less if thousands of people felt the sudden need to bed me?”

He bit his cheek, remaining silent.

“You’re the only one I want, you jealous fool. No one else – not now, not ever, and certainly not some random street vendor that throws a discount at me because he thinks of me as some kind of hero.”

Astarion’s features involuntarily softened as he took in your words. The fury that was about to overwhelm him dissolved into a flutter, engulfing his chest, washing away the seething that hooked at his ribcage.

“Really?” Only one word left his mouth, before he cleared his throat. “I mean – I'm not surprised of course, as you seem to literally cling to my side these days.” A poor attempt to cover his insecurity, but the best he could muster.

“Really,” you assured and gently tapped on his temple, “I vow on the tadpole flooding inside our brains.” You chuckled as you rested your hands on the back of his neck and shifted closer to him. 

“Well, but those might be gone someday,” Astarion mumbled.

“And even then, I will remain at your side. Only if you want me to, of course.”

Astarion didn’t have to think of his answer, the words spilling from his lips like a reflex.

“Yes, I would want that,” he whispered sincerely, his flamboyant mask crumbling. “Look, it's not that I don't trust you. It’s just… Well, I guess I'm used to losing what I hold dear. And the thought of losing you to someone else… I don’t know, apparently it woke something in me.” 

He felt almost ashamed over his sudden lack of eloquence, being so raw with you, but there was a sense of relief in opening up. To his surprise, it was even more soothing than losing himself in violence.

You looked at him with affection and cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin. He closed his eyes and sunk against your palm. 

“It's alright, Astarion, you don't have to explain. I promise you, you won’t lose me to someone else. As you said, I tend to cling to your side these days, and truth be told, I have no intention to stop.”

“I hope you won’t,” Astarion replied and took your hand in his to press a kiss to your fingertips. “But honestly, I have to apologise for doubting your intentions with me. With us.”

“I forgive you, lover,” you replied tenderly. “I didn't take you for the overly jealous type, though,” you added with a smirk.

Astarion offered you a wry smile. “Let's not dwell on it, shall we?”

Then he reached for your face, softly taking your chin between his thumb and index finger and rested his lips on your forehead, followed by a kiss to the tip of your nose.

You wrapped your arms around his waist to pull him into a close embrace. He could sense your heartbeat against his cold body, your pulse drumming in a comforting rhythm.

For a moment you were just holding each other, your head against his chest, Astarion relishing your warmth and kissing your hair. Your touch was relieving. Assuring.

You were with him, and had promised not to leave. 

Your affirmations repeated in his mind: You wanted him. Only him alone.

This was all new territory and Astarion sensed it would take some time for him to fully adjust, yes, but right now… this was all he could wish for.

“Somehow I don't want to let go of you, little love,” he hummed to your ear.

“Then don't,” you breathed and kissed along his neck, brushing his bite marks with your lips, sending a shiver down his spine. A particularly sensible spot, but you were allowed to touch him there.

Gods, how deeply he had fallen for you.

Astarion drew you even closer and sighed, your hands grasping the fabric of his shirt. 

When he gently peeled away from your hug, you looked up to him and bit your lip.

“Can I be completely honest with you?” you asked sheepishly.

“What is it, my sweet?”

“Well... I think that merchant truly wanted to bed me.”

Astarion laughed – deep, coming from his belly – surprised by his own lightness. The idea of fuming over your obvious admirer seemed almost ridiculous all of a sudden. 

“I told you so. But now that you see it too, I guess you wouldn't mind if we turn back for a quick chat? I would love to take care of that dear fellow,” he replied mischievously. While his fury was gone, he still wouldn’t mind some misdemeanour.

“Astarion!” you scolded, but joined his laughter. “Please spare that innocent man.”

“Relax darling, I will. For now at least. And only because you asked so nicely.” His fangs poked from the grin that adorned his lips.

“Good boy,” you teased and brushed one of his white curls behind his ear, his grin widening from your touch.

As you walked back to camp, hands softly entwined, Astarion noticed that probably for the first time in his life someone truly belonged to him – willingly, out of love.

You belonged to him. 

The thought grew in his chest, wandered up to his eyes, spreading affection through his entire body, and for the remaining way back to camp he didn’t let go of your hand.

Masterlist

[sparklingspite]

when people say nice things about your writing

[fhrlclln]

I. haunting you, haunting me | qimir

SUMMARY -> lies, deceptions & betrayals all beneath an innocent persona but does love still hold strong?

qimir x fem! reader

masterlist | part II

GENRE -> angst, fluff & semi-nsfw

WC -> 3.93k

a/n: pogiiiii 😫😝😗

likes, comments and reposts are greatly appreciated !! <3

enjoy !!

you met him in one bustling day in the market in olega.

it was like any other day for you there but all changed when he had arrived. you had been doing your weekly shopping in the market, casually checking the fresh produce among the stalls. the crowd here was tight so you had squeeze in a bit to get out of the market once you had finished finding the items you needed for supper later. you sigh, trying to dodge as many people as possible but it became overwhelming when they came walking in from all sides.

“excuse- oof!” you bumped into a someone cutting off your words. you were about to apologize as you whip your head to the person you bumped into.

your eyes met instantly and the apology escaping your lips doesn’t come out.

“sorry.” the man in front of you beats you to it. he has this awkward smile on his face even though his black greasy locks concealed most of it. and the first thought that pops in your head is that… he’s cute. and the second thought coming right after immediately is does he bathe often?

your cheeks heat up realizing how long you were staring at his smile and his hair as you composed yourself. “it’s alright. i wasn’t looking, sorry. have a nice day.” you awkwardly averted your gaze from him as you made your way pass him. you could still feel his gaze at you as you walked away. you didn't know what compelled you to look back but you did, seeing that he was already gone. huh.

you thought about the stranger since that day yet you knew you wouldn’t see him again. people come and go, even the cute ones, you think to yourself. the city was big here in olega and it was a common planet for travelers, merchants or all kinds of people to land in and go.

yet you were absolutely wrong about that.

the second time you went to the market, he was there, shopping as well- or it seemed like he was browsing than shopping. it made you chuckle when a street vendor had scolded him for looking at the produce for too long. your chuckle may have went to his ears as he looked towards you, offering a small smile and a wave in which you reciprocated by smiling back at him, continuing on with your day. the anticipation lingering in the air. you thought he might be a merchant or some kind but that curiosity in you flew away as you remembered he was just a stranger here. a cute one, yes.

the third time you met him was out of coincidence really. the local apothecary that you go to despite its reputation for offering the illegal assets... they supplied you with medicinal herbs that you often use in your home cooking and personal use. and that's when you had finally got to know who this stranger is.

going in, you expected the owner greet you as usual yet you were met with the familiar greasy black locks of a man standing behind the counter. he’s wearing those loose clothing of his. he was fiddling with something in his hands, seeming to be in deep concentration until you stood in front of the counter. peering over to see what he’s toying with until he flinched when he saw you, clumsily dropping the thing he was fiddling with as he met your gaze and small your smile of amusement.

"sorry!" he places the object on the counter, still managing to topple it over as he quickly catches it and places it upright at last. he coughs, embarrassment etched across his face. "w-what can i do for you?"

"did the previous owner sell this place to you?" you asked, curiosity in your tone. the shop doesn't look new, it still looked the same as the last time you've been here. "you're new." you point out, tilting your head to the side a bit as you looked at him, as if to observe him.

"yeah, yeah- he did. i own the shop now." he lies, well in truth he does own it now. there's a nervousness in his tone but he offers that awkward smile with it. "i'm qimir. is... there anything i can do for you, valued customer?" he stretches his hand out for a friendly handshake in which you reciprocated, saying your name as well.

"i'm a valued customer already?" you laugh as he chuckles at that.

"well, if you were a valued customer before then you are still now." he shrugs as you nod at that in amusement.

"thank you then." you say as you again met his dark orbs. there's this look in his eyes you cannot decipher but yet it makes your heart soar from the way he looks at you.

"just some few medicinal herbs please." you finally requested as qimir nods, reaching under his counter as he pulls out a pouch. you pulled out some credits as qimir places the pouch down on the counter with a glint in his eyes.

"it's on the house." he pushes the credits back to you. you were about to refuse yet he shakes his head. "on the house, for a valued customer. please." his pitch lowers as he leans forward with the pouch of herbs in his hands, gesturing for you to take it. you stare at him, an overwhelming feeling surges in the air of how close he is now to you.

"that's very kind of you." you match his pitch as he smiles. "thank you, qimir."

“no problem.” he says. an impulsive thought crosses your mind, not wanting to leave it like this as you unconsciously blurt it out.

“do you like stew?”

qimir blinks, suddenly confused yet he answers “i do… yes.”

your cheeks heat up, suddenly embarrassed how random that was. “g-good. if you like, you could… you know-“ the words struggle to come past your lips of how embarrassed you are to ask him to join you for supper.

“are you asking me to join you for dinner?” qimir smiles at that.

“yes… if you’d like. my home’s not far away from here and i was hoping to make something out of these herbs.” you turn away shyly as qimir chuckles.

“no, no, no- i love to! it’s just that…” he scratches his head, shrugging. “am i not a stranger?”

you hum. “i know your name, right?”

“yeah.”

“then you’re not a stranger to me.” you said casually. he is stunned for a moment at that, how willing you are to invite him in your home. the nervousness in you arose as you ready yourself for him to say no.

“okay then.”

and maybe that’s when things started to drastically change in your mundane life here in olega. qimir, the stranger from the market, had quickly grown a budding friendship with the moment you had invited him in your home. you got know him a little bit despite the secrecy he was harboring from times. you didn’t press any further from that, you just enjoyed his company he gave you.

and maybe it did change for him as well.

you were something… beautiful yes. curious and all the ways so innocent in his eyes. you were like a shining stone in midst of all the people in this planet. he momentarily thought that this was a bad idea… accepting your invitation. he had a mission and he wasn’t risking any distractions as of now. but yet, he could not resist the stirring desire just like he didn’t resist when the darkness came to him. you were somewhat like that. something he can’t resist.

amidst his mission on this planet. you had made his lonely way come to life. he cherished how you’d offer him now to dine with you or converse with him in conversation in his apothecary. the friendship you offered him was one he enjoys now. even his pupil had seem to catch on the lingering gaze of his towards you.

“you like that woman.” mae points out, you were in the apothecary moments ago with qimir until mae had interrupted.

“what’s it to you?” he defends himself, making the poison she’s requesting to kill one of the jedis in her mission here.

“i don’t think the master would approve of that.” mae says as he scrunches the bunda leaves she provided into the serum he made.

“i’m sure he won’t mind.”

“so… you do like her-“

“shut up.” qimir rolled his eyes. yes, he likes you. dangerously so. the gnawing desire inside him grew so rapidly that the thought of mae’s mission ending soured him. the thought of leaving you in this planet. he thinks about that, wondering if you’d say yes if he asked you to leave with him. you did mention that you wanted more than your mundane life here in olega.

“i should become a collector, don’t you think?” you say randomly one time. you were in his apothecary, sitting behind the counter while he fiddled with his merchandise.

“a collector, huh?” he looks at you, wondering why.

you stand up, walking towards him to his side. “i’d get to explore planets, maybe i can sell the relics i find for credits and i won’t be bound to one place.” you hummed thoughtfully. “i think that’ll make my life exciting.”

“why not a smuggler then? or a trader?” he asks as you chuckled.

“i said exciting, qimir.” you roll your eyes at him as he smiled.

“hey, my life was exciting when i was still dealing with the hutts.” he defends.

“yes, dangerously.” you point out. “but yes, exciting.”

you were a plague in his mind. a plague that he could not handle. your smiles were so innocent, like you were the first pure thing to come across him in his whole life. something not tainted but pure in all ways that made his heart soar loudly. and he felt like he fell in deeper with you and it ached him that the time he had in this planet was ticking.

and so it did. the jedis had found out about mae and eventually him, after they interrogated him in the apothecary and he ratted his pupil out. and of course, they needed to leave the city immediately and on to the next mission.

“i’ll come back. i promise.” he clasps your hands to his one night when he visited you in your home out of the blue as he was about to flee olega with mae. “i just need to lay low for a while.”

“there’s something more to this, is there?” you ask, your brows scrunched up in confusion while your eyes didn’t hide the sadness of him leaving. you knew about mae and you knew about the whole thing with her mission and him being involved with that. yet you did not know there was something more.

“yes.” he admits, taking in your features. his chest tightening as he rubs his thumb against your skin. “i’m sorry. i promise i’ll explain when i come back from khofar.”

you stare at him, conflicted, and he doesn’t waste time to kiss your forehead, concealing the promise.

“okay.” you say sadly as you watch him leave in the dead of night.

qimir couldn’t shake that image in his head once him and mae arrived in khofar. the forests were overwhelming and his thoughts go straight to you. he ponders now, wondering if he should stop lying to you that he wasn’t just some former smuggler or apothecary owner- that he was something more and he wonders if you’d accept him, the real him.

and that thought circulates him as he’s slicing every jedi dead here from getting in his way.

his mask is broken as the padawan he stabs falls to the ground. his two red sabers gleaming in the darkness. blood is spilled everywhere. he feels alive and eager- so eager to come back to you once he’s done here. master sol’s face contorts into anguish seeing jecki had fallen. it continues with him throwing his cloak out to the jedi as he uses the force to bring mae to him as he strangles her with one hand.

“you really didn’t know it was me…” he tightens his grip as mae struggles. “not even deep down?”

a disturbance in the force causes him to light his saber up as he felt someone creeping from his side. he feels a strong pulse of the force causing mae to be thrown back away him. he sneers, seeing if it was sol yet a slash of a saber causes him to defend himself as he registers the offender in front of him.

“you…” his eyes widened as his grip on his saber tightens as you pushed yours strongly. the hue of your blue saber in contrast with his causes him to momentarily let his guard down.

you stare at him, the heat of both sabers touching your cheeks. sweats beads against your forehead as you looked him with the same look of curiosity yet mixed with determination to kill him. qimir’s eyes showed a lot of emotions yet you could distinguish one in particular…

betrayed.

“a jedi? all this time?” he huffs, pushing forward as your sabers made a sound. you don’t answer as you suddenly pushed him back with your force, causing him to hit a tree. he groans as you held your lightsaber more loosely now as you stared back at him.

“not a jedi.” you say as a flicker of emotion crosses his face. he stands up, his nostrils flaring, a mix of emotions flooding his mind. his gaze is focused on you but all the attention was now dismissed as yord tries to land a blow on him. he’ll deal with you later.

the fight ends quickly. a number of jedi had already fallen under qimir’s blade except for master sol and the twins. you’re here now, with the sun up as you kneeled before an unconscious osha as you healed her wounds with a wave of your hands, channeling the force to seal up her battered skin. mae must have escaped.

“you deceived me.” qimir says from behind.

you look back to him as you continued to mend the young girl’s small wounds. “we both did.” you merely say.

“yet you were not surprised it was me.”

“i had my thoughts.” you shrug, standing up as you drape your cloak over osha. “from the moment you started to open to me.” you turn around now to face him.

here he was, arms glistening with sweat and battered with dirt. his locks were still covering his face. his black robe suits him and you take a moment to admire him before staring back at his distrustful gaze. he steps forward, you remain in place, he takes another step and the distance between you inches closer. his eyes were searching for something in yours despite this hardened aura he gives.

in truth, you didn’t really know that he was mae’s master for the first few times you were with him. he was good at concealing it, though the longer he started to spend time with you and opened his heart slightly, you already knew- in someway. meeting with master sol and the other jedis were merely a coincidence, they had also sought you out after interrogating qimir. and when you knew they all were heading to khofar, you had to as well.

“i should kill you-“

“you can but you won’t.” you say and gently raise your hand to sweep his dark locks off his face. to really see him clearly now. qimir tenses at your actions yet relaxes as you cup his cheek with your hand. “what’s stopping you?”

“you.” he whispers, reeling in to the warmness of your palm. even though he was conflicted with the idea of you being force-sensitive and trained, he thought for a moment that you were entirely different after revealing the real you but the longer he stares at your eyes, he just finds that same innocent orbs staring back at him.

“you tried to kill me.” he points out as your hand falls down to your side.

“you were trying to kill mae and her.” you sighed as you look down to osha.

“we should get out of here. the order would want to find their fallen.” you look pass him to see the bodies of jedis you had gently draped their cloaks over them. placing their sabers on top of them. qimir looks back at it, seeing that you honored them. he doesn’t question or argue further as he nods at your advice.

・゜゜・．

the sound of waves crashing is a soothing sound that makes you relax for a bit in this unknown planet that qimir had brought you and osha on. you clutch your cloak around you, the sea breeze is cold but comforting outside the cave in which you presumed this must be his real home.

"i'm going to wash up." qimir silently says behind you as you nod at him, seeing that he has his satchel and fresh robes in his hands.

"don't go too long." you say quietly as he nods. you could still feel the uncertainty in him towards you and by the looks of his eyes, the sadness is still there. he walks away, heading towards the rocky shores. you go back in the cave, wanting to look over the unconscious osha but by the looks of it, she's stirring awake as she sits up on the bed.

"how are you feeling?" you ask gently as you pick up the water qimir provided.

"i'm fine." osha says as she accepts the cup you are offering to her as she drinks from it. by the way she looks at you, she's also uncertain if she should trust you.

"i mean no harm." you say as osha quietly nods.

"why are you with him? why am i here?" she asks, a hurt in her voice. "he killed... he killed them all and you... you defended us. why?"

"i have my reasons." you answer her. "and as for coming with him... i-" you pause, this time you don't have a really solid answer. "i don't know."

but you do know, deep inside you, you knew you couldn't resist the man.

"where is he?" osha stands up quickly. a rage in her crackles as you don't stop her from walking towards the exit.

"by the shores, washing up." you tell her as she nods. you watch her go, knowing why qimir had brought her here. and it pains you to see the young girl so conflicted with her path... just like you had before. the desire of freedom.

you leave osha and qimir to discuss themselves in their matters as you went ahead to the lagoon where qimir had bathed, needing a bath for yourself. placing your saber, well your master's lightsaber on your discarded robes, you dip in the cool sea water. you shiver, the rocks beneath your feet made your steps in the water a bit wobbly but as you dunk your whole body in, the relief washes over your tired body.

"it's rude to stare." you call out, turning around to see qimir by the shores. you smile at him as he chuckles. he was dressed in a cream loose tunic, with his hair still damp. his eyes roam over your figure in the water and you feel like you're more bare with the way his eyes are on you.

"you're beautiful." he says silently, not bothering to tear away his gaze from your body.

"thank you." you hum. "you're not so bad yourself." you tease.

"osha wonders what or who you are..." he begins, sitting by the big rock near your robes. "and i find myself asking the same."

"i'm not a jedi..." you begin with the obvious. "my master was but he longed departed with the order. i was trained in olega in secrecy until my master passed." you say sadly as he nods in understanding.

"why didn't you tell me?"

"and why didn't you tell me you're a sith?" you countered as he hums at that. "if you asked, i would've answered." you answer his question.

"i was going to tell you... i promised you an explanation." he says as you nodded.

"why osha?" you ask now, curious with his answer.

"i need a pupil. an acolyte." he answers, a desperation in his tone.

"the rule of two was it?" his head shoots up to that. "my master didn't hinder his teachings about the other path, qimir."

"yes." he nods. "the power of two."

"you know this isn't osha's path. i do not wish to interfere but-"

"that is jedi of you to say. what do you know of osha's path? her anger, her fear, her pain, she'll embrace it once she's accepted for who she really is." he strongly says as you sighed, walking towards the shore as qimir's gaze follows your every move.

"i do not know her path, yes, neither do you. she will only know it herself." you say strongly. "but that doesn't mean you have to sway her with your influence. your familiarity with what she's dealt with."

qimir stands up quickly from where he sat as he comes near you. "i've learned to accept my darkness. i see potential in her than her sister. i thought mae wanted the same as i did. revenge. but osha... osha knows."

"you thought so." you mirrored his words as you feel his breath tingle on your cheeks of how close he is. "give the girl time to understand. if she wishes to become your pupil, then so be it."

"what of you?" he asks now as you raise a brow.

"what do you want from me?" he asks again, the confusion in him of why you chose to stick around has made him feel in daze.

"qimir..." you're about to part from him but he grips your bare hips, holding you close. "i don't know." you whisper as you gaze into his eyes. water drips down your back as you hold yourself steady by placing your hands on his chiseled chest.

"you don't know?" he whispers back as his gaze flicks from your eyes to your open lips.

"i don't..." you huff, the swimming desire in you igniting as he smirks.

"maybe i don't need an acolyte..." he says thoughtfully as he presses against making you shiver. his hand roam to your hips up to your waist. "an equal, perhaps?"

the tension breaks as he locks your lips with yours with such fervor and desperation, it makes your head dizzy as you reciprocated back with much eagerness. you moan into his mouth as you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him in for more. your body feels like molten lava from the way he's holding you. the subtle arousal in you peaks as you feel his press hard against your stomach. it ignites you. the answer you refuse to tell is as evident as your desire for him. you break away for a moment as an emotion crosses qimir's face. underneath the lies, deceptions and betrayals... was it desire and... love?

"from the moment i met you in that market, i just knew..." you confessed. "i just knew i wanted you."

his heart soars, beating loudly as he presses his forehead against yours as he whispers back with much devotion.

"and i you."

・゜゜・．

part two for the real boinking? ;)

[nemo-writes]

⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; as dawn breaks, you tend to sybil and the remains of the wreckage left by the attack. determined to root out the force behind this dark chapter, you turn to an old friend for guidance.

★ warnings; slight descriptions of injuries and blood

☆ story masterlist

Morning breaks with the first faint light creeping through the cracks of your blinds, and the relentless scratching at the door finally ceases. Exhausted but relieved, you uncurl from your spot on the floor, where you spent the night huddled with Sybil. Her breathing is steady now, though a quiet whine escapes her occasionally. You gently stroke her white fur, matted with dirt and dried blood from the night’s violent encounter.

You rise cautiously, the movement tugging at the pain in your ankle. Sybil stirs beside you, lifting her head as if sensing your intent. Before focusing on her, you steal a peek through the blinds. The street below lies empty, no sign of any lurking danger. Then you check outside your apartment door, and there too, it's empty.

Reassured for now, you bend down, wrapping your arms around Sybil and lifting her up with a pained grunt. The adrenaline that had fueled you the night before has vanished, leaving only raw, trembling determination. Step by agonizing step, you make your way down the stairs, each descent slow and labored, every creak of the wood magnifying the weight of your exhaustion.

The shop is unrecognisable.

Shelves that once held carefully labelled jars and vials are toppled, their contents spilled across the floor in a kaleidoscope of shattered glass and stained herbs. Your cauldron lies overturned near the counter, its contents long soaked into the wooden floorboards. The air still smells of the burnt potion that had scorched Ghost’s skin.

The destruction around you is overwhelming, but Sybil’s soft whine pulls you back to the present. You set her down gently on a comfortable patch of floor, cleared from the chaos.

You scavenge what’s left, finding a few unbroken jars of salve and bandages hidden under the counter. Working methodically, you tend to Sybil's wounds, cleaning and wrapping them with as much care as your shaky hands allow. She remains still, enduring the discomfort with quiet patience.

Once she is cared for, you turn to your own leg. Your ankle is swollen and caked in dry blood, bruised from where Ghost had dragged you across the floor, his claws tearing into your flesh. You bite your lip as you clean the puncture wound. Wraith poison. It seeps slowly into the bloodstream, and if not treated, it can be lethal. You rub a poultice into the marks and wrap your leg tightly, knowing it will take time to heal, but at least it’s no longer a death sentence for either of you.

As you move to clean and pick up the remains of your shattered apothecary, every movement feels like an effort. You work slowly, but you push through, driven by the need to restore some sense of order.

While sweeping debris near where Ghost had writhed in pain, you freeze. Embedded in the floor, glinting faintly under the dim light, is one of Ghost’s nails, sharp and black, splintered into the wood from his violent struggle. You kneel down, inspecting it closely—its edges are jagged, coated in dried blood, and it radiates an eerie, dark energy. Carefully, you take a cloth and extract it.

Holding the nail in your hands, an idea begins to form.

You know of someone who can and will help. You swallow hard, the decision settling heavily within you. She’s not someone you reach out to lightly, but this time… there’s no other choice.

. . .

You leave Sybil resting on your bed, and only when her eyes flutter closed, do you leave her side, the familiar warmth of her presence a small comfort in the back of your mind.

You gather what you need, moving with purpose despite the clammines in your hands. The bathroom becomes your makeshift altar, and though the tub is humble, it will serve.

Carefully, you sprinkle the salvaged herbs into the water, watching as they drift across the surface. Each herb was chosen with intent—rosemary for protection, thyme for courage, lavender for clarity. A handful of salt follows, grounding the mixture and cleansing it.

With a slow exhale, you press your own nail hard against your thumb with a flinch, allowing a drop of your blood to fall into the tub. The water shudders, rippling outward in response, as though alive to your plea. Then, you murmur her name.

The surface of the water begins to glow with a faint, silvery light, casting soft reflections on the walls. The air thickens, each breath becoming heavier as the veil between worlds trembles before finally falling open.

Slowly, deliberately, she emerges from the tub. The top of her head, crowned with dark, damp hair, breaks through first, followed by her sharp, regal features, her eyes pale pools. She rises until her neck and shoulders hover just above the waterline, her arms gracefully settling over the edge of the tub.

Her gaze finds yours, calm but penetrating, a knowing smile flickering across her lips as she studies your face. The familiarity settles comfortably in the air between the two of you.

"Thou art troubled, mine old friend," she speaks, her voice a soft echo in the space. "What darkness doth plague thy heart?"

Her presence, while comforting, still commands your respect. You were taught from childhood to call her name only when truly needed, for she was an ally to your bloodline, but not a spirit to be called upon lightly.

Her eyes fix upon your battered state. “Thou art a sight most grievous,” she says, her voice rich with the cadence of old English. “Fear gnaws at thy bones, and pain hath left thee ragged, hollow. Wounded, indeed.”

You breathe deeply, pulling yourself together as you lift the cloth-wrapped object from your side. Silently, you offer her Ghost's nail, dark and deadly. Her gaze sharpens as she accepts it, her slender fingers turning it over in quiet, focused examination.

“Reveal to me the source of his madness,” you plea, “and of the others’. Please, show me what’s driven them to this.”

She studies the nail, tracing its jagged edges. Finally, she speaks.

“Aye,” she begins, voice grave, “thou seeketh the truth behind his descent. Yet, be warned: the truth is not what it seemeth. She, the one they pursue—she is not untouched, not unscarred by the same darkness. Though she is the centre, she is not the cause. She is but human, and another hand doth shape this tale.”

Your pulse quickens, mind racing as her words sink in. Leah—she was a source, but not the architect of this obsession. Her eyes hold yours, unreadable but certain.

“There is a design here, a careful orchestration. Another, cunning and cloaked, doth play upon thy pack’s nature, bending their hearts to obsession, their minds to ruin. This plan hath taken root already; what was begun is now well underway.”

Leah is as much a victim in this as the pack—only a piece in someone else’s scheme. "Who?" you ask, desperation slipping into your voice. “Who would do this?”

Her expression softens, but she shakes her head. "The shadow hath yet to reveal itself. But know this: as long as the threads go unseen, the madness shall deepen. The one who drives this seeks not thy destruction alone. Their aim is vast—boundless.”

With a slight tilt of her head, she turns back to you, holding the nail delicately between her fingers. She then extends it to you, resting it on the cloth. Her cool hand closes around yours, a silent reminder of the weight and danger that this fragment carries.

“Hold this close, child,” she murmurs. “For it may yet serve thee well. In times of shadow, such remnants of truth may be weapons against the dark.”

Then her hand releases yours, trailing up to your cheek with a tender, cool touch, thumb tracing a slow, reassuring line as her gaze holds yours, unyielding and steady.

“Do not let thy heart waver,” she whispers, voice soft yet powerful. “Thou art not so easily uprooted, nor cast aside by such an evil. Thy roots run deep, born of stronger stock than this darkness anticipates. Hold fast.”

Then, as swiftly as she’d come, she begins to sink back beneath the water, her fingers slipping from the edge of the tub, leaving you with more questions than answers. Alone in the dim light of your bathroom, each revelation settles like stones in your chest.

You’re not without fault either. You’d fed your own resentments, let jealousy twist your perspective until you’d unknowingly played into the hands of whatever force sought to divide and conquer. And that needs to end here.

With clarity finally settled on your mind, your thoughts turn again to Laswell. She’s always been the town’s first line of defence, and whatever is lurking here has crept under her watch. If anyone can help you make sense of things, it’s her.

With Ghost’s nail clutched tightly in your hand, you gather yourself and start moving. You leave Sybil behind, resting and safe as you focus on Laswell. It’s time to face everything—to confront whatever has been taking root here.

. . .

On the other side of town, Alejandro and Rudy moved through the quiet, pre-dawn streets, taking care of some early business that couldn’t wait for full daylight. Alejandro was scanning over the market supplies they’d been tasked to retrieve while Rudy jotted down some notes, the calm routine a welcome reprieve.

The usual scent of bread and spice mingled with the morning chill—until something sharp, unsettling, cut through it.

Alejandro stopped short, head tilting as his trained nose caught the unmistakable hint of blood. A slow tension crept up his spine as he recognized it, mixed with something familiar and wrong all at once His grip tightened around his gear, and he motioned for Rudy to follow.

They followed the faint trail toward the edge of the Rose District, its shadowy streets still cast in the muted dawn light. And there, half-shifted and sprawled against the stone, lay none other than Ghost. A mix of something matted his clothes, his form slumped but menacing even in partial human form.

Alejandro moved closer, but as Rudy reached out instinctively to help, Alejandro’s hand shot out, stopping him. “Espérate,” he hissed, his tone sharp, eyes narrowing as he zeroed in on Ghost's red-stained neck and knuckles. The fury building within him found confirmation in the scent lingering on the half-wraith's skin—it was unmistakably yours.

“It’s her blood,” Alejandro said, voice low and furious.

Rudy’s eyes widened, and before either could demand answers, Ghost’s eyes shot open, wild and feral. With a snarl, he surged to his feet, tearing away from their reach and disappearing back into the shadows, leaving only their unanswered questions and a trail of dread in his wake.

Rudy turned to Alejandro, jaw clenched. "We need to check on her. Now."

Without hesitation, they both turned on their heels, abandoning their morning duties. The journey back to your shop felt longer than it should, the urgency of what they might find gnawing at both of them.

The strange behaviour of the pack had lingered at the edges of Alejandro's thoughts. He remembered how odd they’d been the last time he and Rudy had delivered your tonics and potions to them—unsettled, like they were barely holding themselves together. He cursed at his carelessness. Whatever had been brewing beneath the surface had clearly boiled over, and now, you were caught on it dead and centre.

When they finally arrived at your shop, the destruction greeted them like a wound left open. Clearly someone had attempted to clean up, but shelves remained overturned, dried patches of blood staining the wooden floor. Alejandro could smell Ghost’s all over. But you were already gone. His eyes flickered upstairs when a soft whine from upstairs reached his ears.

“Sybil’s here,” Alejandro murmured. Rudy followed him cautiously up the stairs, where they came face-to-face with the door of your apartment—warded heavily with a spell they both recognized. It allowed only those with genuine intentions to pass.

A moment passed before the door clicked softly open, just enough to let them through. They ventured deeper inside and into your room, where the found Sybil laying in your bed, her head lifting as the pair approached. Her intelligent eyes locked with their, and though she couldn’t speak, her exhaustion told them everything.

"Pobrecita (Poor girl)," Rudy sighed, eyes soft as he looked at the injured familiar.

Alejandro, as a Perro Negro (Black Dog), possessed a bond with spirits, especially those of dogs or wolves. He knelt by her side, hand resting gently on her fur. Their connection deepened, and in the quiet of the room, Sybil communicated what she had witnessed. Through her thoughts, he saw the chaos that had unfolded—the fight, the terror, the injury. And most importantly, he saw where you had gone.

“Se fue a buscar a Laswell, (She went to look for Laswell)” Alejandro said, standing, his voice heavy with understanding. “That’s where we need to go.”

banner credit

[godspeedviper]

How the doctors handle your sick days - Headcanons

SFW || TW: mentions of needles, vaccines, pills & IV drip.

This one's for the girls, goths, and gays that have a chronic illness, a disability, or are just plain old sick. As a chronically ill girlie myself I'm always craving caretaker fics but never find them so I had to be the change I wanted to see in the world.

Dr. Jonathan Crane

He immediately shifts into a stoic clinical demeanor the moment you start to show any signs of discomfort. At first you find it a bit worrisome because his voice seems so cold and detached, but now it makes you feel grounded and safe.

Jonathan always makes sure you have everything you need, but he unfortunately doesn't think much further than that. It takes him some time to learn how to comfort you as well as heal you.

The best part about having him by your side when you're ill is that he can always talk you out of a bad state of mind. Above all, Crane remains a psychologist, and he takes pride in his ability to override your negative thoughts.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter

You are utterly spoiled. Hannibal makes sure to cook for you and bring your meal to bed or the living room so you can eat comfortably. In the evenings, he makes sure to run a hot bath for you with herbs and epsom salts to soothe any aches and open up your respiratory system.

Since he is a doctor after all, he has prescribing rights, and will usually write prescriptions for any necessary medications. Need to get an injection, or an IV drip? Hannibal does that for you at home.

His pride and possessiveness makes him want to give you the best possible care to ensure someone else doesn't touch you this way. Hannibal gets nervous at the thought of your safety and health being out of his hands. How could he trust someone else with such a precious life? What if they made a mistake and hurt you or worse?

Dr. Robert Laing

"I'm not that kind of doctor." is always the first thing he says when you mention that you aren't feeling well. However, this doesn't mean he's not helpful, he is still a pathologist. Laing always does his best to make you feel better.

He's always reading up on your symptoms and possible treatments. If something is out of his grasp, he isn't afraid to admit it and seek out assistance. Even if he can't be the one to treat you, Laing will be there with you every step of the way to advocate for you and make sure you feel safe.

Much like Scarecrow, at first he seems rather cold and detached, but it's only his training taking over. However, his starting bedside manner is much better, and over time he adapts very well to your needs.

Dr. Spencer Reid

Now he's definitely not that kind of doctor, but that doesn't mean he isn't prepared to take care of you. His eidetic memory comes in clutch with any possible knowledge about your condition and how to act accordingly.

He always tries to be there for your doctor appointments or for any major procedures. Spencer wants to make sure you're being properly cared for and he isn't afraid to confront anyone that talks down to you or dismisses your symptoms.

When you're resting at home he clings to you like a lost puppy. He happily reads to you when you lack the energy to talk, or if you just want a bedtime story. He never forgets to check in on you even when he's away on a case, and will often ask Garcia to pick up items from the pharmacy for you if he can't do it himself.

Ao3 || Guidelines || Ko-Fi

[loveueddie]

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙈𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙'𝙨 𝙎𝙚𝙭𝙞𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙡𝙪𝙩

Pairing: Modern!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie warms you up for "work."

Warnings: +18, Smut, unprotected sex, insults like 'slut', mention of drugs, slaps, Dom!Eddie, mention of 'Daddy', pornographic video. (I think that's just it haha)

Author's Notes: This is my first work, I couldn't proofread it so don't throw stones at me for mistakes lol. English is not exactly my language, forgive me if something is wrong. 🫶🏼🩷

You and Eddie are best friends with benefits. He calls you when he wants to wet his cock and you call him when your pussy needs attention. But what no one knew was that you two made videos during sex and posted them on a famous porn site, you two were famous on the site and made money. All of this had advantages, after all, who wouldn't want to make money just by having sex? Especially with Eddie Munson.

Having money was good and having sex with Eddie Munson was even better, he was her best friend but God, how could someone like him, who hadn't had that many experiences with girls throughout his life, be so good at fucking? It was a secret, maybe he was so fascinated in pornography since he was young and now he was doing his own with you.

Lying on your best friend's couch, wearing nothing but Eddie's old shirt, white lace panties, white socks on your feet and a herb wrapped in silk between your toes, you watch your best friend sitting on the other side of the couch, his skillful fingers, which They were in your pussy a few minutes ago, typing on the laptop on his lap, probably checking the comments on the video he posted of fucking your breasts earlier.

His curly hair was a little messy, shirtless, the tip of his tongue between his lips and the buttons of his black jeans were open, showing the happy trail of his pubic hair. He was sitting lazily on the couch, his legs parted as if silently inviting you to sit on his lap or kneel between his legs to suck him off. Both options were really good.

You pass the herb wrapped in silk for him to take a drag of which he thanks you with a wink and squeezing your thigh with his hand, leaving the marks of his rings and fingers on your skin.

Eddie laughed at a particularly nasty comment about her tit-sucking skills. "Looks like the Hawkins Freak has a new skill." He says with a smile as he squeezes your thigh, enjoying the sight of your ass peeking out of those white panties. "I bet I could make them cum just by sucking on those tits right now." Eddie blinks and blows a smoke ring, flicking the ash from his cigarette into a nearby ashtray. "Want to make us more money, baby?" Eddie asks as he caresses your bare, reddened thigh with his fingers.

You laugh, slapping his hand playfully and making a fake pout with your lips. "Doesn't the star here deserve a rest?"

Eddie smiles smugly, stretching and flexing his arm to show off. "Nah, we're doing good now, honey. I know you can take more." He suggests, pressing a finger against your cheek to gently turn your face to his, and looking at you lustfully. Eddie hands you the weed as he puts his laptop aside and lays down next to you on the couch, turning you onto your side to fit on his side. You feel his bare chest against your back. "I know you can. You never let me down." Eddie whispers, slowly rubbing his hard cock against your ass. Eddie's breath tickles your ear before kissing it softly. "Are you going to deny me, slut?"

Your breathing becomes shaky when he calls you a slut, kissing your ear and making you shiver. You bite your lip and then take another drag of the joint, playfully blowing the smoke in his face. Eddie laughs at your playful teasing and takes a deep whiff of the smoke, then takes the joint from your fingers. "So fucking sexy, baby." He murmurs, pulling your closer by your hips until they're flush against each other. "We'll give our fans something to jerk off to." He hand slides over your stomach, running his fingers over your sensitive skin, causing a soft moan to escape your lips. "Tell me, slut. How do you want to fuck tonight?" Eddie's fingers curl around your waist, giving your ass a gentle squeeze as he ponders your answer. "On your knees, on your back, bent over... It's your choice." His lips brush against her cheek, making her shudder as his hard cock presses against her ass. "We're going to make our fans cum, baby. Let's have fun."

You smile at him, rubbing your nose against his as you blow smoke into your half-open mouth, in which Eddie swallows the smoke satisfyingly. "Anyway you want."

Eddie laughs, placing a lingering kiss on your lips before pulling away. "Open your legs, baby." His voice is full of desire, the command mixed with a harsh tone. "I'm going to touch your soaking wet pussy." Eddie's hand slides up your thigh, pushing your panties aside to expose your slick folds. "I bet your pussy is already dripping for me, isn't it?" He murmurs against your earlobe, his finger tracing circles around your swollen clit as you gasp, your hips arching. "What a horny slut..."

Eddie's finger slides inside you, making you moan louder. His fingers curl deeper, teasing your sensitive spot as you throw your head back, your body shaking with pleasure. "They want to see us cumming on each other... And that's exactly what we're going to do." Eddie's free hand runs down your chest, pinching your nipple as he pumps his finger inside you, until the rings are inside you too.

Eddie pushes a second finger inside you, stretching your wet pussy as you whimper his name. "So wet, slut." He rubs his fingers against your G-spot, his cock throbbing in your ass as you pant. "I want to see that beautiful pussy when I fuck you, baby." Eddie slowly withdraws his fingers, tracing a wet path towards your clit before rubbing it firmly. "Get ready... I'm going to make you cum and we'll film it for our fans." His warm breath on your ear, sending shivers down your spine as you nod anxiously. "Let's give them what they want, slut." His thumb pressing against your clit as he hooks another finger, rubbing your swollen bud until your hips buck uncontrollably, your wet heat squeezing him. "Come for me, baby..." Eddie's voice is low, a whisper harshly as you choke. Your body shaking as you scream and whimper his name, your juices covering his hand.

You cum in his hand, panting and your chest rising and falling. You take a drag on the joint before passing it to him, placing the joint between your lips for him to take a drag on, since his fingers were busy in your soaked pussy.

Eddie sucks on the joint, shaking it as he strokes her tender, sensitive pussy, admiring your sensitive flesh glistening with her arousal. "Perfect, slut. It's show time..."

He kisses your hip, trailing down your inner thigh as you let out a satisfied sigh. "Get on all fours, baby." Eddie orders softly, pulling his fingers away from your pussy, making you moan softly, eager for his touch. “Now.” Eddie says in a husky voice, pulling your hair playfully, his cock throbbing with excitement as you obey, spreading your legs wide. Eddie smiles satisfied, taking the video camera with his hand wet with his cum, the other hand slaps his ass hard before starting to lower his black jeans to his knees, he wasn't even in his underwear.

You tilt your head to look at him over your shoulder, but Eddie grabs your hair and forces you to face forward. "Not yet, porn star." He plays with you, although his tone is hoarse with desire and commanding. He watches your panties stuck between your soaked folds. Eddie basically preps you before turning on the camera, adjusting your shirt above the waist and taking one last drag on the joint. The joint always made him hornier than normal.

Eddie turns on the camera, pointing at your wet pussy from behind, making you blush slightly. He records his finger playing with your wet lips, teasing you and hearing you whimper softly. “Please…” You whimper, breathing labored. Then suddenly he stops and you know what that means, it means he would continue if you called him..."Daddy. Please, daddy..." You add and that makes him smile, murmuring a "good girl" while pushing your panties to the side, revealing your slippery folds.

"Open your legs wider." He commands in a husky tone, his finger tracing circles around your sensitive flesh, making you moan softly. "What a horny slut..." Eddie teases your clit, making your hips shake as he takes another hit of the joint. "I'm going to fuck you deep, baby. So deep..." Eddie's voice grows husky, his cock poking your pussy from behind, teasing you. "Ready?" Eddie asks, his dick pressing harder against your wet entrance.

"Yes, daddy." You say with a trembling voice, unable to take the delay any longer. But Eddie has some fun, pointing the video camera at the hard cock at the entrance to your wet pussy, the pink head of his cock rubbing teasingly against your wet folds, threatening to penetrate, but only penetrating the head of the penis and pulling away to rub the tip on your sensitive clit.

"Eddieeee..." You whimper, already starting to feel your eyes watering from wanting his hard cock filling you so much. Eddie smiles and gently probes your tight opening with his swollen head cock, enjoying the feeling of being enveloped in your heat. "You're so tight, slut." He murmurs against your ear, pushing deeper, filling you slowly.

“This pussy is going to take all of me…” Eddie moans in the back of his throat, sinking completely inside you, your bodies connected in a way that was intended to be filmed. "They're going to love this, baby..." His fingers curl around your hips, holding you firmly as he begins to pump his cock in and out of you, the sound of flesh hitting flesh echoing in the room , captured on camera. Eddie leans over you, his bare chest against your back, the camera suddenly thrust in front of your face. He was recording your face as he fucks you hard.

"Tell 'em, tell 'em you're my slut..." Eddie's breath is hot against your ear, his body tense as he fucks you harder, looking down and growling as he enjoys the sight of his disappearing cock inside your tight pussy. "I-I'm your slut, daddy.." You say, voice shaky and drunk with pleasure and his big cock fucking you.

"Cum for me... Cum while they watch us fuck..." His voice is rough, full of desire as you moan, your body shaking beneath him, close to your climax.

Eddie grunts, his cock throbbing as you squirt around his cock until it leaks out of your pussy, a wave of pleasure rushing through him. “Fuck, baby…” He gasps, his release imminent. He pulls you close, burying his cock deep inside you as he unloads inside you, the sight of your cum-filled pussy caught on camera making your climax even more intense.

"Perfect, slut. Just perfect..." Your breath hitches as he slowly pulls out, his cock glistening with your juices. Eddie smirks at you, rubbing his cum covered cock against your sensitive flesh, enjoying the way you shudder beneath him. "For my horny slut, here you go." He grinds his hips against you, recording with the video camera and flooding your pussy with his hot cum, making you whimper even louder as you grip the couch, your body shaking with pleasure. "That's it, slut. Take Daddy's cum..." Eddie's voice is full of satisfaction, his gaze fixed on the sight of your cum-filled pussy before he pulls away gently, collapsing against your back, panting.

His chest rises and falls against you, his arms wrapped around you as you bask in the glow, completely exhausted. Eddie then turns the camera to focus on his sweaty face and his face, sweaty and flushed with pleasure. He gets up and hits your ass hard, making you jump and moan. Then he smiles, giving the video a thumbs up.

"Use a condom, kids." He says, ironically and playfully.

"You are so stupid." You say breathlessly, playfully rolling his eyes.

[naturesapphic]

Hey, I have a request for the caregiver Wanda (and Agatha if you accept) where maybe the little reader is very sick (pneumonia or something like that) and they both don’t know what to do to help after they take the reader to the hospital?

Maybe breastfeeding included too

Pneumonia

Caregiver!wanda maximoff x little!fem!reader (caregiver/girlfriend relationship), Caregiver!agatha x Caregiver!wanda (platonic), Caregiver!agatha x little!fem!reader (platonic)

Warnings: age regression, breastfeeding/lactation, sickness

A/n: fun fact! I had pneumonia when I was 11 years old and it got so bad that I had to be taken to the ER, that and I was severely dehydrated-

Hearing the radio and the sound of the car is what lulled you to sleep, that and how exhausted you were. Your mommy was driving y’all home coming from the ER. You had a severe case of pneumonia and it seemed that day by day, it got worse which made Wanda worry immensely. Then today it was worse than ever so she took you to the ER where they hooked you up to IV’s and put a breathing mask on you to help.

You were there for a couple of hours getting fluids and medicine in you and you seemed to be doing better which made the decision of letting you go home to rest. Wanda agreed with them and loaded you up in the car but since it was a thirty minute drive home you fell asleep but you could barley breath due to how congested you were. Wanda parked the car in the driveway and carried you inside in her arms. She placed you down on the couch which woke you up, causing you to get upset. “M-mommy…” you cry out and Wanda cooed at you.

“Shhhh shhh sweet girl mommy is here.” She shushed you gently, her accent making your heart flutter. “Hurts mama…” you whine out and started a coughing fit. Wanda immediately patted your back gently and grabbed your water bottle to take little sips from. After your coughing fit she told you to lay down and rest on the couch so she can go call someone right quick. You nodded and laid down with your stuffy and turned on your favorite show. Wanda went into the kitchen and grabbed her phone to call her friend Agatha.

Wanda called and told her to bring her best herbs and medicine for her baby. Agatha agreed and told Wanda that she would be right over and hung up. Wanda went back into the living room with you and told you that auntie Agatha was coming over to help you feel better. You loved seeing auntie Agatha so you were pretty excited. The two of you waited for a bit until a knock on the door interrupted the silence besides the tv playing in the background. Wanda went and opened the door to reveal Agatha with her hands full of bags.

Wanda helped her in and took the bags from her hands so Agatha could go see you. “Hey pumpkin! How are ya?” Agatha greeted you with a massive smile. You giggled and waved at her. “Hi auntie Agatha!” You said happily which caused her to smile even wider. “I brought you some stuff to help you feel better. Is that okay?” Agatha asked and you nodded your head fast. “Wes pwease auntie Agatha. I hurts weally bads.” You pouted and she copied you making you smile a bit. “That’s okay! I’m gonna help your mama make you some special tea and some soup! Go ahead and watch your show while we do that okay sweet pea?” You nodded and she patted your head gently as she walks into the kitchen where Wanda is.

The two of them spent an hour in the kitchen making you a special tea and some soup to help. They brought the tray in the living room and found you sitting up, still watching tv with your stuffy in your arms. “Here we go babygirl. Do you need mommys help to feed you?” Wanda said sweetly and you nodded your head yes. Agatha smiled and went to grab her stuff. “Well I’m glad I can help the two of you but I must be heading off now! I’ll call and check on y’all later! Feel better sweet pea!” She said as she walked out the front door. Wanda sat beside you as she fed you your soup and helped you sip on your tea. After you finished both things, you were getting really tired again. You gently pulled on Wanda’s shirt and looked up at her with sleepy eyes that made her melt.

“Boob mama? Pwease…” you asked nicely and she smiled at you, booping your nose, making you giggle. “Of course sweet girl.” She said and removed her shirt and bra, leaving her top half bare. She put you on her lap sideways and held you in her arms as you suckled on her breast. While suckling, Wanda started humming a lullaby that made you fall asleep and Wanda smiled to herself, happy that knowing that her little baby will start to feel better soon.

A/n: thank you for the great request Anon! I hoped you enjoyed and my friend @godhatesgoodgirls is sick so I think this fic was published at the right time so :) Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all! :)

[luffyvace]

Dating ~ Sanji Vinsmoke ~ headcanons

These are sfw and gender neutral

for Sanji’s big day! (I’m super late ik hush :3)

pt2 here my sillies :3 : Dating ~ Sanji Vinsmoke ~ headcanons pt2

Dating Sanji includes royal treatment. We all know this. It’s so obvious. 😭 It’s in the manga, it’s canon, we all write it in our headcanons. We know this.

Royal treatment meaning sit back and relax dear, Sanji’s got this. Sea beast? He beat it up and is now cooking a delicious and nutritious sea beast stew for you, would you like that with a smoothie? Lemonade? Water? Ok water. Sparkling? Distilled? Iced?

oh your lost? Don’t worry he’s got bread and he’ll leave breadcrumbs where you’ve walked so you don’t go in circles :)

your clothes are wet? Take his. 💋

there’s mud up ahead and you just bought a snazzy new fit? He’ll carry you 🏋️‍♂️

somebody bothering you loveliest? He’s already kicked them to Australia (extra hard if it was Zoro)

Dating Sanji includes good communication.

If you feel anything but a positive emotion Sanji is on the case. And the first victim he’s pointing fingers at is Zoro 😼

”MOSS HEAD BASTARD!! YOU MADE THEM UPSET DIDNT YOU?!”

it’s not a person darling? Well what happened? What can he do to help? Did you loose something? He’ll turn into a mad man causing chaos around town looking for it! Did it drop into the ocean? He swims as deep as he needs to in order to find it.

Honestly he even babies you about little stuff :P you stubbed your toe? Want him to massage it for you? That’s it! He’s breaking out the foot spa! Take off your socks and shoes!

he did something that really upset you?! Tell him what it is right away! He’ll make sure he never steps outta line ever again! He *kiss* never *kiss* meant *kiss* to *kiss* upset *kiss* you *kiss*~

Never feel hesitation to tell him if something’s wrong with you physically “Chopper! Come check them out right now!! They say somethings’ wrong!”

Nor mentally! You’ve been going through some tough times these last few months?! Sit down and tell him everything!! Let’s get to the root of this! Together! Is it someone else?? Did it happen from something??

Even if you aren’t feeling negative emotions right now always feel free to rant to him about what’s making you happy! he’d love to hear it truly! He loves your voice even more~ 🥰 *nose bleed*

Dating Sanji includes 5 star meals.

another thing we all know. And in every headcanon- but seriously what’s all your favorite meals, snacks and desserts? Even if Luffy himself says to make one thing he might make another just because he knows you like it. That guy eats anything anyway so he might as well just make what you like! 🧑‍🍳

Dating Sanji includes overly cheesy confessions despite the fact that your already and only dating.

”My dearest..I would love if you would go out with me and make this evening the loveliest of my days! I’d wholeheartedly accept and put my all into cooking for our first date….My love and affection with herb and spice…the flavor of our intense compatibility will melt on your tongue every bite you take! Guaranteed!”

”Sanji….we’ve been dating for xyz months/years now..”

”ahhh~ Even to the blossoms of this beautiful spring day know we’re simply destined to be..! Getting married tomorrow..it’s been my dream since we’ve first met! I can see it already, smell it even..! The enchanting scene of you walking down the isle, putting your hands in mine…kiss! The happiest day of my life has officially been sealed! Everyone’s clapping! Cheering! Whoop woo’s arise in the air of our love!~ The 6 layer cake I spent every ounce of my time baking since I met you, on the side of us—predicting our perfect wedding kiss! An exact model of the scene~ It brings a tear to my eye! I hope I don’t keep you up tonight, my darling love! Because I certainly won’t be able to sleep when I’m much too busy imagining the scene over and over again until our big day tomorrow, the same one I’ve been replaying in my head since I first laid eyes on you~ 😚”

”what on EARTH Sanji. We’re only dating! Wha- What do I even say to this?!”

”you could say yes! My lovely future spouse!~ 😍😍”

”To what! You haven’t even properly proposed to me yet?! Let alone made it official⁉️“

”ohh my honey! I didn’t know you wanted to get married- the wind! The sea! The birds even know our fate! We-“

”ALRIGHT!”

”SHUT IT SEAWEED HEAD!! DON’T INTERUPT ME WHILE IM CONFESSING MY LOVE to the most wonderful soul to have ever lived~”

⚔️🗡🔥💥💥💥⚔️🗡🔥💥⚔️🗡💥💥🔥

(Sanji and zoro fighting :3)

Dating Sanji includes sure fire protection.

no one will ever lay a hand on you. For a man? Self explanatory. Blast that motha sucka to space.💥 For a woman?? Welll…he’ll take all the hits for you okay?! So run away and go get Nami or Robin!! Hurry darling!

Dating Sanji includes trust.

more than anything he trusts you with his deepest darkest secrets. There’s no front when it’s just you two around, purely him. Not telling you his lineage was because he wanted to put that behind him..it wasn’t supposed to come back up. And man is he the most sorry sucker on earth when he betrays the strawhats. Because that means he’s betraying you. Pleasepleasepleasetakehimbackplease.

Uh guys I ran out of characters I’m gonna do a part two I guess 😭… I didn’t want to thooo

[ad-caelestia]

basic ass witch tips 🔮

[revised post from ~2018 & last edited on 9.29.24]

please note that these are all related to things i have actually seen discussed or mentioned. please do your research before blindly following the advice of someone online, myself included.

if you're on some kind of medication, including but not limited to hormonal birth control, heart medication, and anti-depressants, double check with your healthcare professional/provider [HCP] before you drink that new tea you just bought.

always, always, always tell your HCP before trying any kind of herbal supplement, whether it’s something you made yourself or something you bought at the store.

have a diagnosed medical condition? talk to your HCP before ingesting anything or putting anything on your body that you aren’t familiar with.

don’t. drink. essential. oils. essential oils are not consumable!!!!!

citrus oils can cause photosensitivity, or being sensitive to light and more susceptible to sunburns so be mindful when using these oils on your skin.

if it hasn't been emphasized enough, PLEASE dilute your essential oils before use! common carrier oils are grapeseed, castor, olive, coconut, avocado, almond, etc.

oil and water don't mix, so you would need to use an alcohol based solution with essential oils to dilute them that way (if you plan to use them for a spray or something of that nature).

be mindful of using sprays, incense, powders, etc. that could release particulates into the air around pets or those who have allergies, respiratory issues, etc.

don't involve your pets in your practice in a way that could be harmful to them - no essential oils on them, no crystals in their water bowl, no moon water that's been sitting on your shelf for weeks.

i beg you, please don't put crystals in any uh bodily orifices.

there are some herbs you absolutely cannot burn (or use safely, really) for any reason, so make sure you're educated on all that beforehand; yew, for example, is highly toxic and potentially fatal if consumed or inhaled. the leaves, bark, and seeds contains a chemical called taxine, which is what some of the most hardcore chemotherapies are made from so keep that in the back of your mind.

that being said, please wear gloves and use common sense if you decide to forage for your own herbs or plants. i know that plant identifying apps exist so if you have a smartphone, that might be a good place to start.

putting salt on grass does a couple of things: salt removes moisture from the soil, thus drying out the grass and killing it; and, salt causes chloride to build up in the soil, thus making it toxic which inhibits chlorophyll production, leading the grass to eventually "starve" and die - please don't do this.

don't leave candles unattended - even small ones; it's not a good habit to get into.

also!! crystal balls in direct sunlight can cause a fire so be careful!

more fire stuff - be mindful of the environment and also safety so check for burn bans before you make a fire outdoors.

sterile lancets, not needles or pins. that's all i'm gonna say about that.

don't drink water you collected from anywhere outside unless you plan to properly filter it first.

if you plan to store water for later use (moon water, for example), refrigerate it or set it in a cool, dark place.

distilled water is free of minerals and contaminants so it has a longer shelf life than tap or bottled water - keep this in mind when making charged waters or other potion type things.

fresh herbs or other things of that nature left at room temperature can also grow super harmful bacteria. for example, putting raw garlic in olive oil and leaving it at room temperature will end as a breeding ground for botulism and mold.

be safe out there!

© 2024 𝚊𝚍-𝚌𝚊𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚊

[a-killer-obsession]

G, P, U 12 or 14+15 or all three?👀👀

Two Silly Boys

Prompt: Degradation/Sex Pollen/Unbearable

Additional Tags: afab reader, she/her pronouns, begging, oral (receiving), ass eating (receiving), petplay dog/master, double penetration (anal + vaginal), anal fingering, outdoor sex, semi-public sex

WC: 2.8k

Event Masterlist

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

Going out to sea to explore the world was something you'd dreamed of doing since you were a child, so when captain of the Heart Pirates, Trafalgar Law, offered you a place on his crew as their resident botanist you happily accepted. Much like you, Law was a healer, but while he practised modern medicine, you used more traditional methods. It was one of the reasons he was so keen on having you join, he'd come to learn the hard way several times in his journey that modern medicines and remedies weren't always available, and while he knew a little about the botany in North Blue and how to use it to heal, the flora of the Grandline was a whole different ordeal. He wanted to learn from you, as well as teach his crew how to stay safe when there were so many unfamiliar and dangerous plants in the New World. Born and raised on the Grandline, New World flora was your specialty, and you were happy to share your knowledge. In truth, it was nice to have someone who cared enough to listen.

Being botanist to the Heart Pirates did have its downsides though, namely two of them: Shachi and Penguin. You couldn't possibly fathom how no matter how many times you scolded them, they always ended up in the infirmary after touching or eating a plant that they shouldn't have. It drove you insane, you swore next time they needed a healing tincture that you'd just let them suffer. The two of them never learned, and somehow it always fell to you to fix their mistakes, because they didn't want the captain to literally rearrange their limbs for being such idiots.

A new uninhabited island loomed on the horizon, docking procedures already underway, and you sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, having no doubt you'd be seeing them in the infirmary later. You gave the crew the usual talk; don't touch or eat anything without checking with you first, don't pick anything, don't stomp on mushrooms even if they look cool and squishable. You hoped the trouble makers were listening but you knew they weren't. Once docked, you spent the afternoon with the crew, exploring the island and collecting herbs and flowers that you knew had medical uses and gathering them carefully in a basket. You were especially delicate with a flower you recognised as having use for treating libido and erectile issues, you had no use for it but you thought Law might be interested in its properties for the way it increased blood flow, so you carefully picked several and placed them in an airtight jar.

You returned to the ship to store and organise your forage, setting some aside for drying and making notes and sketches in your journal about the variety of flora on the island. Forage sorted and put away, you left the ship again for a more causal, exploratory wander. The others had declared after a thorough search that there was no danger on this island, there were barely any large animals at all which meant the only predators were too small to truly endanger a human. Confident you were safe on your own, you wandered into the forest. You weren't worried about getting lost, you had an exceptional sense of direction and worst case the island was only about a three hour walk wide, you would appear on a beach eventually if you walked in a straight line, and from there you could just circle it to the ship.

An hour into your leisurely walk and the sound of moaning caught your attention. At first you thought you'd accidently stumbled on a few crewmates taking advantage of the dense forest, and turned to leave and give them privacy, till the moans mixed with pained curses and desperate cries. They sounded like they were injured so you hurried towards the sound, already pulling off your backpack to grab your emergency supplies. You skidded to a stop when the crewmates came into view though. The troublemakers, who else. What shocked you however was their current predicament. Naked as the day they were born, covered in a sheen of sweat, dicks in each other's hands, desperately pulling at each other. You weren't sure you'd even seen them without their signature hats before, Shachi's orange-brown hair falling over his face in sweat slickened strands, Penguin's short black hair dusted with dirt like he'd at some point been laying down.

“Yes, yes, yes, noooooooo,” Penguin cried out, so close to an edge but unable to topple over it. He shoved Shachi hard, instigating a round of aggressive fighting, uncaring of their nudity as they fought in the dirt. “You're not doing it right!”

“Neither are you!!” Shachi yelled back, kneeing him in the gut, “how hard could it possibly be to make another dude cum!”

“Ask your fucking self, useless prick!” Penguin decked him with a solid punch right to the jaw and Shachi quickly returned it with his own, the two best friends shocking you with the force they laid into each other and spat insults, covered in bruises, their erect cocks bouncing with every movement.

“CUT IT OUT! BOTH OF YOU!” you snapped at them, emerging from the treeline and grabbing them both by an ear, pulling them away from each other as they winced at your hard hold. “What the fuck is wrong with you two?”

You could barely understand a word they were saying as they both yelled over each other, not even bothering to cover themselves. You caught something about hiking, something about a dare maybe? And ah… a flower. Of fucking course.

“Stop, stop,” you sighed, releasing them to run hands down your tired face, “did you two idiots touch a flower? Yellow? Pink tips? Six pedals?”

“We uh..” Penguin started.

“...we ate it,” Shachi finished. You let out a pained groan, throwing your head back. God, these fucking two, you wanted to scream.

“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU TWO IDIOTS NOT TO TOUCH THINGS?!” you shouted, the two of them now cowering at your feet. You couldn't help but notice the way the subtly touched your legs, it was the effects of the flower no doubt. “Why the fuck did you eat it?”

“It smelt nice!” Shachi wined, “and it tasted sweet so Penguin ate one too”

“But then we… got… hard,” Penguin sighed.

“How long have you dumbasses been out here jerking each other off?” You sighed.

“... three hours,” Shachi whined, practically nuzzling against your leg. You couldn't help the electricity it sent to your core, you'd never seen just how muscular the two of them were under the boilersuits, not to mention their sizable cocks. Nothing quite like two muscled men on their knees to get a girl going.

“What do we doooooo [y/n]?” Penguin cried, nestling against your other leg, the two of them each claiming a leg and running their hands up them as they knelt in front of you.

“The flower you two idiots ate is a powerful aphrodisiac,” you explained, allowing them some small relief by scratching their scalps, making them let out little whines. God, they were like animals in heat. “The flower relies on the wildlife around it to eat the flowers so their nose spreads pollen from one plant to the next. It encourages the production of said wildlife by setting them into a breeding frenzy. More animals means more opportunity to spread pollen. You two knuckleheads are no smarter than a wild boar, its working exactly as intended”

“So what do we do?” Shachi whined, “we… we tried doing it ourselves, we tried helping each other, but we can't… we can't finish”

“That's because the flower wants you to breed,” you sighed, “for a mammal with a phallus, you need to finish inside another. If you were females, you'd need someone to finish inside you. Men have died from this you know? You'll keep going till you either do what the flower wants, or until you drop dead”

“So we just… have to fuck?” Penguin asked coyly.

“Yup, good luck fellas,” you shook them off your legs and turned to leave, “don't forget to warm each other up first!”

“Wait… no!” Shachi looked at Penguin and almost cried, “we're not into men! I'm not doing that!”

“Speak for yourself…” Penguin muttered.

“Shut up Peng!” Shachi shouted, shoving him and setting off another fist fight, “you're not fucking my ass! Or my mouth for that matter!”

You made an annoyed groan as you pulled them off each other again, the two of them quickly reclaiming your legs, more aggressive with their touches now, hands travelling past the hem of your skirt.

“Let us fuck you! Please!” Penguin begged.

“We'll make you feel so good, I promise!” Shachi added. You rolled your eyes at them but couldn't deny the arousal pooling between your legs as the two men begged for you and ran hands up your thighs. It was a tempting predicament. You weren't sure anyone had ever helped two pollen victims before either, it could be interesting research to observe how they interacted with each other. Would they work together? Would they fight for dominance? It was a fascinating proposition.

“Fine,” you relented, parting your legs slightly, “but you two pathetic boys better make me cum till I see stars or I'm telling the captain”

They didn't even bother to give you a verbal reply before they were all over you, running their tongues up your legs and tugging at your clothes. Shachi stood and pulled off your shirt as Penguin unzipped your skirt, letting it fall to the ground. They were like rabid dogs as they saw your underwear, and they made quick work of it, Shachi removing your bra, sucking on your breasts and groping them roughly as he stood beside you, while Penguin tugged down your panties and pulled you to rest your core on his face. You had to rely on Shachi to keep you upright as Penguin pulled your leg over his shoulder, and you cried out as he immediately drove his tongue between your folds, lapping at you like a parched dog, messily licking up any slick he could find and bullying his tongue inside you to find more.

“Fuck, Peng,” you moaned, hips rolling as you rode his tongue, “just like that, fuck. Who knew such a dumb, useless dog would have some use? Good dog, lap me up good,” Penguin moaned into you at your words, doubling his efforts, and you swore you heard him bark against your pussy.

“Am I a good dog too?” Shachi whined, letting your breast go with a pop to look at you with needy eyes.

“I don't see you eating your food like a good boy,” you huffed, “get on your knees and I'll see if you're worth my time”

Shachi dropped to his knees behind you, making a definite bark before pulling your cheeks apart and running his tongue against your asshole. If he had a tail, you had no doubt it’d be waggling. You shivered at the wet muscles lapping at you, feeling the way the two men's tongues occasionally met between your legs as they ate you out from both sides, Shachi's tongue bullying its way inside your tight hole. You reached one hand back to hold his head for support, a hand buried in each man's hair as they made growls and sloppy sounds against you, their cocks twitching untouched as they serviced you.

“Good dogs,” you purred, “fuck, gonna cum right on your faces, hnng~”

Penguin made a excited sounding yelp as you gushed on his face, and you cried out as Shachi took the opportunity to slip a finger in your ass, spitting on it and adding a second, your whole body tingling as he finger fucked you through your already intense orgasm. The two of them didn’t let up, Shachi’s tongue running over your ass and thighs before adding a third finger, stretching you open so you could take him.

“Good dogs,” you panted, barely able to keep yourself upright with the way your legs were quickly turning to jelly, “the two of you have worked hard, now show me how feral you are and come fuck me”

They moved faster than you could comprehend, working in tandem to get you in position so they could both fuck you. You expected them to lay you down, but instead Shachi lifted you so Penguin could slide inside your pussy, making you gasp at how fast he went to the hilt, before Penguin grabbed you himself and you wrapped your limbs around him. Shachi held your hips steady as he lined himself up with your ass, then he spat on his cock pumped it a few times to spread it. You held your breath, wincing a little from the stretch as he slid inside you slowly. They both held you still for a moment to adjust, the three of you panting heavily, both boys working hard to hold back and not just immediately slam into you. You gave them a small nod to let them know you were ready, mentally bracing yourself for what you knew would be a rough fuck given the effects of the flower. Shachi held your hips bruisingly tight, Penguin supporting your thighs, and the two of them began working in sync to lift and drop you, using you like a toy to get themselves off as they made deep thrusts in time. Between the strength of the two of them you were practically weightless, thrown around like a ragdoll as they grunted like rabid animals and fucked you mercilessly hard. Every hard thrust knocked the wind out of you till all you could do was whine as they used your body, quickly bringing you to orgasm again. Liquid dripped down their thighs from your release, wetting the dirt below you, the sound of them fucking your holes making sloppy sounds that echoed in the trees mingled with your collective moans.

“So good, good dogs,” you moaned, your tits squeezed against Penguin’s hard pecs, sweat making the three of you sticky as it collected between your bodies, your back pressed against Shachi’s front.

“Cum for us again, please,” Penguin whined.

“Need it. Need to feel you cum again,” Shachi added, his teeth grazing your shoulder.Penguin leaned back a little so he could rub your clit hard with his thumb, and you felt yourself spiralling.

“Fuck, fuck,” you cried, “cumming”

The two of them made deep groans that vibrated through you as they felt you squeeze around them, unable to let out your own moan from how hard you were cumming, the air entirely knocked out of you. All you could do was shake and see white dots in your vision as the two of them unloaded inside you, finally finding relief from the flower as they gave it what it wanted. The amount of cum they put in you was immense, another side effect of the flower, your two holes immediately dripping with white as they pulled out and held you steady while you found your footing and you practically collapsed against Penguin’s chest. Shachi grabbed the tank top he usually wore under his boiler suit and shook the dirt off, then he used it to do what he could to clean the impressive amount of collective fluids from you, your legs shaking and threatening to give out as he dragged it carefully through your oversensitive core. Penguin continued to wordlessly keep you upright while Shachi dressed himself, then they switched. Once the two of them were dressed they helped you, laying soft kisses and gentle, thankful caresses over your body as they pulled your clothes back on, before Shachi lifted you into a bridal hold.

“So what did we learn?” you yawned as they started to carry you back to the ship.

“Eat strange flowers,” Shachi gave you a shit eating grin. You smacked him hard on the chest and he pouted.

“I’m telling Law,” you threatened.

“Please don’t!” Penguin begged, “I promise not to dare Shachi to eat weird plants, and I pinky promise to not eat any myself!”

“Shachi?” you raised a brow. He rolled his eyes and readjusted his hold on you, making you squeak as you were jostled.

“Fineeeee,” he groaned, “I promise not to eat any more random flowers, even if they get me laid”

“I could have just let you die you know,” you huffed.

“I won’t do it again!” Shachi yelped as you pulled hard on his ear.

“Good dog,” you smiled.

“Woof!” they both replied.

[love-quinn]

— GOOGLE REVIEWS

summary — carmen's never been good with his words, so when he finds you crying in the walk-in, he gets some help to convince you that you're capable of doing your job.

warnings — swearing, general customer-service nightmare stuff. reader is younger than carmen but i pictured/wrote her as being mid-late twenties (25-28 ish) and i think carmy is early 30s so there's an age gap but they're both fully adults, also boss/employee relationship so power imbalance but also nothing happens between them

pairing — carmen berzatto x fem!waitress reader, not established relationship

pronouns — she/her

word count — 1.9k

note — first carmen fic so obligatory warning that he might be OOC, i rlly work on dialogue and shit but i am finding my footing. waitress!reader is kinda special to me i might write some more about them cause they're both so silly if that's something people would be interested in? anyway i hope you enjoy :3

“Stupid… fucking useless- fuck!”

The rush is familiar. The lunch rush, the dinner rush, the fifteen different orders jumbling in your head as you struggle to write it all down in time. Holding nine full glasses of nine different drinks in one hand and struggling to push open the door to run the food out into the dining room. Having to go to Richie and tell him that someone’s card declined so you didn’t have to be the one to tell them. Going into the walk-in and just opening your mouth in a silent scream just to go back out there and finish your shift. 

The rush of cold air on the back of your neck is familiar too. You don’t know what Carmen’s yelling about in the kitchen. You’d just stepped in there to grab food and had caught the tail end of his rant and you’d left with your tray and a million possibilities running through your head.

You’d written something down wrong and now a dish needed to be remade. 

You’d left one of the fridges open and spoiled days worth of food.

You’d given someone something they were allergic to and now you were being sued.

You move through the restaurant on autopilot, avoiding people and chairs and one of Richie’s spitballs sent from behind the counter. You’re so sure that the next time you went back in that kitchen Carmy would be pulling you aside and telling you that you’re fired. 

You deliver the food to the table with a smile and stand back upright to check in with them about that being everything. One of the women sits up a little straighter, giving you an apologetic look. “Sorry, I ordered a side of the lemon herb dressing?”

You look down at her dressing-less plate. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll be right back with that one, so sorry.”

She waves you off. “You take as long as you need to, honey.”

You practically speed back to the kitchen. Oh, god. You hoped you’d at least get that poor woman her dressing before Carmy fired you. You can’t believe that you managed to screw this up. You’d been lucky to get this job. Carmen had brought you on right when he’d opened up the restaurant and the rest of The Bear had all been super welcoming.

You got on best with Sydney, the two of you were similar in age and she was one of the kindest people you knew. You and Richie also had a nice relationship, you thought he hated you when you first got hired and then he walked out into the alley to have a cigarette, found you crying and punched a guy in the face for you. 

You needed this job. You’d graduated a few years ago and were still struggling to break through in your field, and this job paid the bills and didn’t make you cry every single day. Some days, sure, but not every day. 

You knew you weren’t the best waitress ever, you screwed up and made customers yell at you pretty frequently. You were lucky that Richie liked you enough to stand up for your honor even when you were probably wrong. But you tried your absolute best, you came into work every day and genuinely wanted to help. You respected all of the chefs so much, they all worked so hard, and you wanted to make their lives as easy as possible. 

You go over to Richie and murmur something to him about the dressing, and he takes it to the kitchen. First whatever you’d done to upset Carmy, now this. If he didn’t think you knew how to do your job before, he definitely will now. You glanced over your section. All your tables were eating or had ordered, you’d normally be checking with Sugar when the next reservation was due and triple-checking the table was clean and everything was prepared. 

If you were going to get a walk-in minute in, now would be the best time. Maybe you could do it before Carmy fired you. 

You brush past Tina, not even hearing her concerned call for you. The walk-in was empty and everyone in the kitchen understood. When someone goes into the walk-in with tears in their eyes you leave them alone for as long as you can. 

You can’t believe that you were stupid enough to screw this up. 

The door slams open and you wipe your eyes, expecting it to be Tina needing to actually do her job or Marcus wanting to check on you. It’s Carmen.

“What happened?” He hadn’t been expecting to see you so upset. He’d heard the door slam and wanted to leave it alone, but then Richie had raised his eyebrows, stopping mid-sentence.

“God, I can’t wait to hear about whatever asshole yelled at her this time,” he’d shaken his head, trying to go back to what he’d been talking to Carmy about before. One of the shelves had been knocked and two containers of flour had been completely emptied out onto the floor. They had lids on, lids with clamps on them that were meant to stop that from happening but lo and behold Fak was now mopping up something that was beginning to resemble bread dough with how much water he was trying to use. . 

“Who?” Carmy’s eyes had still been glued to the walk-in. Richie had said your name and Carmen had practically excused himself in the same breath. This time? Did you get yelled at by customers a lot?

You wipe your face, shaking your head. “Sorry, Carm. I guess I just needed a second, I’ll get back out there.”

You take a step forward and he, without meaning to, moves to block the door. You feel your heart rate climb. This was it, he was going to scream at you in the walk-in. “You’re crying.”

You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. You didn’t want this to happen, you didn’t want to be crying in front of your boss. Especially not Carmen. He’s a lot, you know that. You’re not in the kitchen a whole lot, but when you are he’s usually not super happy. He’s a yeller, half of Chicago knows that. But he’s always kind to you, he gave you a job when you were fresh out of college in an unrelated field with no experience because he could tell how much you needed one. You often felt out of place slightly, through no fault of the other staff. They spent all shift in the kitchen together and you spent your entire shift out there in the dining room. You know they’re not having sleepovers and braiding each others’ hair in there, but your work mostly took place in a different room.

But Carmen always makes sure you get Family, that you get your break even if it’s scheduled while it’s busy and that Richie isn’t skimming your tips (he’d never, but Carmen’s caught him with his hands in the jar so often that he isn’t sure anymore). 

It really doesn’t help that he looks like that.

You’re shaking, and he worries for a second that it’s because you’re standing in the freezer, but there are tears welling in your eyes and he doesn’t want to drag you out to his office when you’re so visibly upset. “I’m sorry,” you’re shaking your head. “Please don’t fire me.”

Carmen frowns. “Why would I fire you?”

The words seem to tumblr from your mouth without your permission. “I know I’m not the best waitress, I’m sure you get lots of complaints about me and I forgot that woman’s dressing and I know nothing about kitchens but I’m trying, Carm. I promise, and I’ll do better.” You’re talking so fast that he can barely keep up. He’s still caught up on the first part. 

“Wait, wait,” he holds a hand up to stop you. “Who told you you’re not a good waitress?”

You sniff, tears fully rolling down your cheeks. Carmen knows he’s rough. He’s prone to explosions. Carmen is a hurricane, he wreaks havoc on whatever environment he’s in. He sucks in everyone else’s bullshit, swirls it around and then spits it back out, leaving whatever is left in worse condition than he found it. 

You were calm. You calmed everyone. If an asshole yelled at Carmen, or Sydney or Ebra, Richie wouldn’t even dream of going out there and yelling at the customer. Marcus made you a cake on your birthday and Sydney tries all of her newest recipes on you. 

The eye of the hurricane. 

You’re prattling at this point. “-And that time that I made that guy wait fifteen minutes for a straw, and-”

“Honey,” he doesn’t mean to, that slips out without him meaning. “You’re a great waitress, who gives a shit that guy had to wait for his fucking straw? Who cares, you’re…” he can’t think of a way to talk to you. Great feels too impersonal, wonderful feels too intimate. It’s what you are, though. “You have nothing to worry about. You’re… everyone loves you. We’re lucky to- I’m sure you could get a job at any other restaurant if you wanted. You’re not a bad waitress.”

That’s apparently the wrong thing for him to say. It only makes you cry harder. “Please don’t fire me,” you look pathetic. Crying to your boss while he fires you in the middle of the freezer. 

Carmen doesn’t let that slide for a second longer than he has to. “Why the fuck would I fire you?”

You don’t need to answer. Because I’m a bad waitress. It hangs in the air like the frosty vapor that flies from his mouth every time he takes a breath. 

“I swear to fuck, you’re a big part of the reason people come in here,” he’s not lying. He knows his name carries weight, he knows people hear “Carmen Berzatto’s restaurant” and that brings them in the door a lot of the time. He pulls out his phone, reception is shit but he’s able to google the name of the restaurant. 

He doesn’t have to scroll far down the Google reviews before he finds it. “Food was great, waitress was lovely, made us feel so welcome.” He finds another one. “Waitstaff was on top of it. Two people at surrounding tables smashed glasses and from what I saw one waitress cleaned them both up and still managed to get our appetizers out on time.” 

He goes to find another one but stops, looking back up at you. “You’re not firing me?” You take a step back, dropping your entire body so you’re sitting cross-legged on the floor. He watches you, gauging your reaction, before mirroring you. Your knees are almost touching his. 

“I’d have to be a fucking moron.”

The silence is deafening. 

“Hey,” Carmen can’t bite back the shocked laugh. “That’s… alright. Fine.”

Hearing you laugh makes relief bubbled up inside of him. 

“I should go back out there,” you nod towards the door.

Carmy shakes his head, knee nudging against yours. “Richie’s got it, Marcus can walk desserts, Syd’s on top of everything. No one’s gonna hold it against you if you stay here for a bit.”

He stands, hand brushing your shoulder as he moves towards the door. “Have you eaten today?”

You shake your head and he nods. “I’m gonna make you some pasta, okay? Richie can take over for a bit, you take your time in here I’ll be right outside, honey.” He shuts the door and your shoulder burns where he touched it. 

[tonyspank]

WHO?

Warnings: GN! Reader, fluffy + my poor attempts at humor

Summary: You find out who Jenna Ortega is.

You stand in front of your kitchen counter, watching your monitor as your viewers load into the Twitch chat. You smile watching the chat fly with questions and comments. "Hi, guys!" You wave at the camera, fixing your apron. "Be grateful I'm even streaming this because it was so difficult to get my setup in the kitchen."

You move from the counter to your camera, adjusting it a bit. "There," you mumble to yourself, glancing over to the chat again. "Happy Anniversary." You read off the chat, beginning to smile, "Thank you!"

@coolasacucumber where's babygirl jenna

@teamed28 anniversary??? TIME IS FLYING BROOO

@Versalcool171 why they look kinda cute in that apron

@TggthegreatRede HIIIIII

You move back to the counter, "Jenna isn't here, she's out doing something. But that's good because I'm surprising her with dinner for our anniversary! I have a table set up and everything on our balcony." You tell your viewers. You then look around the kitchen, gathering all the ingredients you need.

Soon a donation message pops up on your monitor and the bot begins reading it aloud. "What does Jenna's farts smell like?"

You pause your movements, standing completely still for a few seconds before moving again. You ignore the question, acting as if you never got it, but the smile on your face gives away your amusement. "Uh, anyway."

You break the silence and continue with your task. You lift up a salmon, "I'm cooking salmon, rice and broccoli for bae." You look up at the chat, watching thousands of reactions appear on the screen. You begin seasoning your salmon with a mixture of herbs and spices, and then place it in the hot pan.

Another donation rings through, "Can you tell us the story of how you met Jenna? I love you so much by the way." You chuckle and reply, "I love you too! Sure, once upon a time..." You say dramatically, laughing at your own joke.

"I was streaming, you know? The usual, then I got a donation."

TWO YEARS AGO

You watch as your screen shows victory, winning another match of Overwatch. Leaning back in your chair, you listen to the donation ringing through your headset. "Have you watched the new Wednesday show on Netflix?"

You furrow your eyebrows as your eyes are fixed on the screen. "Nah, I haven't. Like Wednesday Addams?" You laugh and tilt your head, waiting for the next match to start.

As you wait you decide to check the chat.

@Yuanycat530 Jenna Ortega's in the show

@zenocentric you gotta watch it for mommy jenna

@Momismme3600 its sooo good stg

@amburntfreemansgf MASONS WATCHING STREAM

You sit back up in your chair, adjusting the hat on your head. "Who?" You begin chuckling, completely confused about what your Twitch chat was talking about. "Guys I don't know who Jenna Ortega is."

Suddenly, a flood of messages appear, all talking about Jenna Ortega and the new show she's in. You close out of Overwatch and start sharing your Google to the stream, typing in Jenna Ortega.

You quickly learn that Jenna Ortega is an actress and you begin to recognize her. "Oh, shit. She was in Scream 5 with Mason and David?" You turn your head to the chat before glancing back at the search.

You smile to yourself as you remember the movie. You search in Instagram, looking up Jenna's username, before following her and beginning to scroll through her posts. She was absolutely beautiful; you shock yourself as you can't believe you could forget someone so stunning.

@y/nsdirtysock NOT HER BLUSHING

@amburntfreemansgf IS THIS JOE GOLDBERG?

@mrsasfjerEgads SHES SMILING HELLA HARD

You're knocked out of your daze as your phone begins ringing. You fumble around for your phone, trying to answer it before it goes to voicemail.

You answer it and it's Mason, facetiming you. Mason's face lights up when he sees you. "Why are you going through Jenna's Instagram?!" He laughs and you join in, showing the camera Mason.

"Bro! Chat asked me if I watched her show. I forgot who she was!" Mason grins at his screen, "How could you forget Jenna Ortega?" You shrug and laugh, "I don't know!" Mason laughs again before he places his phone down on his desk, you do the same, rubbing your hands down your face. "Mason join me on Overwatch."

Mason raises an eyebrow, considering the offer. "Sure, but you know I'm bad at this." You smile, loading Overwatch back up. "It's okay, Daddy will carry you." Mason chuckles and playfully rolls his eyes. "Alright, let's see if you can actually carry me this time." Moments later, Mason is in your party, taking a sip of his water.

"My chat says, how did Jenna's profile look?" Mason grins reading off of his live chat on his own screen. You pick an operator, shaking your head. "Tell your chat to stop harassing me," you joke, your smile never fading. Mason chuckles and raises an eyebrow. "Oh, they're just curious. I still can't believe you forgot who Jenna is!"

"Dude! It completely slipped my mind,"  you admit, shrugging. Mason chooses his own operator before walking over to your character and using the "Hello" command. You watch as Mason's character waves and greets your character on the screen. "Imagine if you joined me on Saturday," he says playfully.

His eyes then widen, and he says, Oh, my god, you should join me on Saturday." You can hear the excitement in his voice as he continues, "It'll be so fun, swear, and! And Jenna will be able to make an unforgettable impression." You shake your head, watching your character run to the point.

"Are you trying to play cupid?" You joke, laughing. Mason chuckles and replies, "Well, maybe just a little. But seriously, it would be great to have you there. I'm sure everyone won't mind."

You raise an eyebrow, considering his offer. "Alright, I'll come." You finally agree, unable to resist his infectious enthusiasm. Mason grins triumphantly, clearly pleased with himself.

"Awesome! You won't regret it, I promise," he says, glancing at his chat, leaving you wondering what kind of unforgettable impression Jenna could possibly make.

You huff out when D.Va kills you, leaning back in your chair as you wait to respawn. "Chat. If someone gifts 100 gifted subs, I'll tattoo Jenna's face on my buttocks." You joke, a small smirk on your lips.

Mason chuckles, clearly amused by your playful banter. "Hey, don't underestimate the power of your chat. Who knows, you might end up with a masterpiece on your backside," he teases, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly. You laugh along, secretly hoping that no one takes your joke too seriously.

However, as you continue playing, a notification pops up on your screen indicating that someone has indeed gifted 100 subs. Your eyes widen in disbelief. "Ain't no way!"

A FEW HOURS LATER

*jennaortega started following you*

You rise from your bed, clicking on the Instagram notification that pops up on your phone. Ain't no fucking way.

Jenna - So...Saturday? Will a portrait of my face be on your butt?

You - you would like that wouldn't you?

Jenna - I'd prefer somewhere everyone can see Jenna - Maybe your forehead is a better spot

You - lol, how about we get matching ones then? You -that way when we kiss we can really make it look like we have four eyes

Jenna - Kiss? Who said anything about kissing? Jenna - I'm not that kind of girl 🤨

You - oh, so what kind of girl are you? ;)

Jenna - The kind that doesn't appreciate these cheesy pickup lines

You - ooh, dairy free You - completely understandable You - from now on i will acknowledge that

Jenna - xxx-xxx-xxx Jenna - Text me on IMessage

You - yes ma'am! 🫡

Reacted ❤️ to your message.

ONE YEAR LATER

"Chat, I'll let you know I just woke up. Don't mind this..." You say, motioning over your face, as you try to rub the sleep from your eyes. "Sorry if I seem out of it. It takes time for my brain to boot up."

You don't notice the way your chat freaks out about the hickey on your neck, as your focus is still on trying to fully wake up. The hickey, a remnant from last night's passionate embrace, remains unnoticed by you for now.

@h5therx is that a mf hickey

@TheGrapeNinja WHO WAS SUCKING ON UR NECK

@twizzy1 @TheGrapeNinja BLOOD THIS AINT EVEN MY NECK????

"Valorant, or Overwatch?" You ask, finally glancing over at your Twitch chat.

You notice a flurry of comments in the chat, with some viewers teasingly pointing out the hickey on your neck. You pause, staring at the chat, before quickly covering your neck with your hand, a blush creeping up your cheeks.

"Brooo, I didn't even know I had this," you mutter sheepishly, rubbing your hand over your neck.

The chat explodes with laughter and playful comments about your unexpected love mark. "Is she going to hear a word out of me." you mutter to yourself, talking about your girlfriend as you begin realizing that even the smallest details don't go unnoticed by your loyal viewers.

"Enough about my hickey! Pick a game!" You jokingly yell at your chat, reaching for a hoodie to cover up the mark. As you put on the hoodie, a donation comes through.

You pause for a moment, glancing at the donation message. "You said you were going to play Sims last stream. Don't worry about the hickey, we're just excited to see you play!"

You chuckle at the comment, grateful for the support and understanding from your viewers. With a smile, you reply, "Alright, alright! Sims it is then! Let's be delulu and create our dream life."

You start up the game and glance over to your chat. "Have you guys ever, like, gone to bed with like a thought or try to preload your own dream? Like, I be going to sleep with a specific idea or scenario in mind, hoping it will manifest in my dreams. It's like I'm trying to program my subconscious to create the perfect dream."

You pause, waiting for your viewers' responses, curious if anyone else has tried something similar.

@ricoottv Yes bruh I be dreaming about Gal Gadot dominating me fr

@24kGoldenRing @ricoottv 😨😨😨

@QuannMeline YESSSSS

As the chat starts flooding with responses, you notice that many of your viewers have indeed experimented with preloading their dreams. Some share their success stories, describing how they have had incredible adventures and even found solutions to real-life problems in their dream scenarios.

Others admit to having mixed results, with some dreams turning out exactly as they had hoped while others took unexpected turns. Excitement builds as everyone exchanges tips and techniques, eager to unlock the full potential of their dream worlds.

"I'm glad I'm not the only one." You chuckle and begin creating your Sim, carefully customizing every detail to make them as close to your ideal self as possible. You then put your face-cam side by side with your sim and ask, "Do they look like me?"

You wait for responses from your viewers, trying not to laugh at the potential comparisons they might make.

@tuneskixx it looks like u if u were mentally unstable

@47SH5T Y/N if they were off crack

@k0hjuh EWWWW

@Shaun Why the sim kinda 😍

"Me if I was off crack? Nah, that's wild." You say, rereading one of your subs chat. "Go to the gallery and find your love interest?" You read off, raising an eyebrow. Intrigued, you decide to take a break from creating your Sim and explore the gallery to see if there's a perfect match waiting for you.

There's a search bar, and without hesitation, you type in "Jenna Ortega." You eagerly scroll through the results, hoping to find a Sim that resembles Jenna Ortega.

Some of them look like her, and the others are far off, but you settle on one that seems to capture her essence the best. Excitedly, you click on the Sim and download it into your game.

"Guys, why does this actually look like Jenna?" You exclaim, unable to contain your excitement. "Yoo! They even have her cleft chin. But to be honest, Jenna doesn't really have a cleft chin, it only appears when she smiles or makes certain facial expressions."

@amburntfreemansgf nah bro a Jenna Ortega specialist

@AlexVsJay "jenna doesn't really have a cleft chin it only appears when makes certain facial expressions" 🤓☝️

@Shaun @amburntfreemansgf LMAOOOO

After adding a dog and cat to your household, you start your sim life as Jenna Ortega, her being your wife. You immerse yourself in the game, navigating through your and Jenna's daily activities and adventures.

"What the fuck!" You shout at the screen, your chat begins to fill up with messages at the sight of what's happening.

@mynames_jeff POV last night

@amburntfreemansgf sorry y'all jenna thought that was me 😅

@ricoottv OMGOMG

"Ya'll, I didn't tell them to do this! They real life just hopped out of the hot tub to make out." You tell your chat, watching as your sim and Jenna's sim kiss passionately. The unexpected display of affection between the sims surprises and amuses you, causing your chat to explode with laughter and comments.

You're so immersed in the game that you don't notice Jenna creeping into your room, a plate of cookies in hand.

@amburntfreemansgf BE SO FUCKING FOR REAL

@n6huh JENNA?????&1'

@t8lyer_44 I KNEW THEY WERE TOGETHER

@AlexVsJay Y/N has now becomepublic enemy #1

She sets the plate down on your desk, causing a wave of delicious aroma to fill the air. The smell wafts towards you, distracting you momentarily from the chaos happening on the screen.

You jump when you turn your head and see Jenna standing there, a smile on her face. Your eyes widen as you shut off your camera. "I'm live!" You say, forgetting that your stream can hear you. Jenna's eyes widen.

You two have been dating for quite a while, but you didn't tell anyone about your relationship.

"Do you think they saw me?" Jenna asks, her voice filled with concern. You shake your head before shrugging, "I don't know, baby. Shit, this is my fault. I should've told you I was live."

A donation rings through, catching both of your attention. You glance at the screen to see a message from a viewer, "Uhhh...the mic is on. Anyways, hi Jenna!" Jenna's face flushes with embarrassment as she realizes that your viewers heard everything.

Your jaw drops, and you decide to turn the camera back on again since it seems like the damage has already been done. You take a deep breath and address the viewers, "Well, I guess there's no hiding it now. Yes, Jenna and I are dating."

Jenna looks at you nervously, unsure of how the viewers will react. You continue, "We wanted to keep it private for a while, but that was kind of difficult." Jenna sits on your lap, waving at the camera. "Hi, everyone." You chuckle nervously, trying to ease the tension.

"We hope you all understand why we wanted to keep it quiet," you add, trying to reassure both Jenna and the audience. "But we also didn't want to hide something that makes us so happy." The viewers' reactions start pouring in, a mix of surprise, support, and curiosity.

Curiosity also makes its way to your and your girlfriend's faces as your Sims start to Woo-hoo in the hot tub. "Is...that us?" Jenna asks, her eyes widening with a smirk playing on her lips. You cover your face with your hands.

"Ain't no way, bruh." You mumble to yourself.

Another donation rings out, "DON'T ACT LIKE YALL WASN'T DOING THAT SAME STUFF LAST NIGHT. WE SEEN THE HICKEY!"

"AIN'T NO WAY!" You shout dramatically, causing Jenna to burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand to muffle the sound.