#but writing is fun enough to make it all worthwhile :)

[end-orfino]

ahhhhhh i remember why i dont read comics & books and watch movies as much as I should. Because they make me lose it

[conundrumoftime]

Twenty questions for fic writers

From a few people!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

At the moment 59 under my name, plus a couple of anonymous ones for fic exchanges that haven’t hit the author reveal date yet.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

345,058

3. What fandoms do you write for?

At the moment: Rings of Power, Silmarillion and LOTR. My other big fandom is Babylon 5, although my much-loved WIP for that one is currently on hiatus.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I don’t think these are my top 5 fics by a metric I care about given my love for small fandoms and obscure niche content alongside the Haladriel juggernaut stuff, but with that in mind:

- Shadow-Bride, my big Haladriel WIP, my baby, my love, my precious;

- A man is a god in ruins, my first multi-chapter Haladriel, which started life as a short ficlet to be the ‘+1’ of a 5 Things fic and took on something of a life of its own;

- Silver Queen, my first half-Maia Celebrian story - really I just wanted to give her enough half-Maia powers to blast ambushing orcs down a mountain;

- Five times Halbrand’s secret got revealed, my second (I think?) fic for Rings of Power. One of the scenarios turned into Shadow-Bride, and the +1 scenario in which Galadriel doesn’t learn his secret (well… arguably…) is ‘A man is a god in ruins’.

- Lady of the Seas, second part of a Haladriel two-parter; Haladriel smut with Sauron doing a lot of thinking about Ossë and Uinen.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! I got behind at one point and had to declare temporary amnesty. I am so grateful for almost all (see answer to q8) the comments I get, and I love responding to either discuss things or just say ‘thank you’. I never manage to find time to do it as soon as I would like.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

This would probably be one of my Babylon 5 ones - either ‘A spirit haunts the year’s last hours’, an AU drabble where the Minbari took Valen prisoner and now Delenn has her own pet god figure; or ‘MIssing’, about Delenn searching for Lennier after s5 and not finding him.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

‘Tar-Mairon of the Shire’, a Rings of Power AU where the Harfoots really did find Sauron. Does what it says on the tin. My summary for this one is ‘Hobbits make everything better, including Dark Lords’ and I stand by that.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Yes! A ridiculous amount! I have had multiple comments inviting me to harm myself in various graphic ways over making the wrong fictional characters kiss. I get the most hate for writing Celeborn in a way the haters have decided is mean to him (?? he’s fine!) and particularly on my G-rated baby ficlets. Who can even fathom this, honestly.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do, and mostly the ‘overly wordy’ kind.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I was going to say yes but apparently nothing I have on AO3 is a crossover and I can’t remember what I’ve written in my pre-AO3 days. So: yes I think so! once! But alas, can’t remember what.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not the whole fic in a copy/paste sense, but: yes. I won’t lie, it was pretty weird and unpleasant to discover, but once I’d got over the initial “?!” reaction I saw it a little differently - that kind of plagiarism was obviously coming from an author who was insecure in their own abilities, was deeply jealous of mine, and who ultimately was missing out on much of the actual fun of writing. What’s even the point of fanfic if you aren’t coming up with your own work? It’s not like we’re getting paid! How unsatisfying must it be to have readers like your work and know it’s actually someone else’s thing they’re liking anyway, right? So I ended up in a place of taking it as a compliment in the ‘imitation is the sincerest form of flattery that mediocrity can pay to greatness’ sense.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes - one of my Rings of Power fics got translated into Russian. I am very happy, and very impressed by the translator’s work.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Yes and it didn’t go well and I nearly fell out with my co-writer friend over it because we had different schedules and different takes on the story, so: never again.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

It’s probably one I haven’t even written for: Jack and Irina in Alias. It’s got everything I love about ships! They’re enemies working for rival organisations, they’re married, they try to kill each other, they can’t quite bear to do it, they have to sort out awkward co-parenting arrangements, they plot, they dance, there are stabbing attempts… honestly, SpyParents forever.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I plan to finish all my WIPs! I only have three at the moment: Shadow-Bride; Set Fire to the Stars (Babylon 5 pre-series Minbari worldbuilding with Branmer, who I love); and All The Kinds of Alive You Can Be (Rings of Power Sauron/Celeborn where Sauron shapechanges into Galadriel).

16. What are your writing strengths?

Especially these days (I’m a fandom old) I like that I’m happy to try writing new things based on thinking it would be interesting and I’d like to go with it, and not being intimidated by finding the fandom too scary or writing in a different direction to popular fanon or getting a baffled “that’s… nice… I guess?” reaction from my usual readers. I love writing Rings of Power Celeborn; I love writing fics about him raising half-Maia Celebrian; I get untold fury about this from a lot of the Twitter fandom youth, but I continue to have fun :)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I have tons about my actual writing (dialogue, endings, failure to come up with titles I’m happy with) but along the lines of the above answer: I wish I was better at doing long multi-part fics, because the ones I’ve done I have had loads of fun with but I usually stick to one-shots because I don’t feel like the energy of the story will keep going long enough.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

A few of my fics across fandoms have language as important, and specifically, different languages belonging to different people/who’s speaking and what they’re speaking in. My Silm-LOTR Galadriel/Celeborn fic ‘Softest of Tongues’ is a lot about Quenya and Sindarin, and how inadequate translation can be - one of the tags is ‘Sapir-Whorf hypothesis as a metaphor for the pain at the heart of your marriage’.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Poltergeist: the Legacy, back in the late 1990s. Fandom OLD. (I am glad none of those stories nor the forums they were written in have survived the ravages of internet time, I tell you.)

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

I have a few and the thing they all have in common is ‘I am really pleased I was able to make this thing I like work’. So:

- Tar-Mairon of the Shire (Rings of Power), for combining hope and Hobbits and History of Middle-earth, in a way that is both fluff and also genuinely sincerely written Sauron redemption;

- Civil Twilight (Rings of Power), for getting Haladriel and Galadriel/Celeborn into the same fic and for a take on Celeborn I’m really happy with;

- Softest of Tongues (LOTR and Silm), for writing Galadriel/Celeborn in a way that got the exact right language-as-symbolism and the tone of sadness and love and hope and grief that I was trying to hit;

- Deceptions (Babylon 5), for being a short fic that still captures Lennier going from protective to horrified in realising how terrifying his boss is (and also for Delenn making Neroon bow to her)

- Things That Go Bump In The Night (Ghosts), because I was not sure if I could write comedy fic for a comedy, and it turns out I could!

Tagging: @bad-surprise @stitchingatthecircuitboard @liminal-zone @myrsinemezzo @ophidion @formerlyir @hazelmaines @wyrd-syster and anyone else who wants to do it!

[biscuitdolly]

୨ৎ absolute necessities .ᐟ

if you're trying to glow up, get healthier, etc, these are the very basics that you absolutely NEED to follow!

01, WATER .ᐟ

Staying hydrated is crucial for your health and wellbeing. While the recommended daily intake is 8 cups of water, you can gradually increase your consumption over a few weeks if that seems too overwhelming. Drinking enough water provides numerous benefits, from clearing skin and flushing out waste, to boosting exercise performance and supporting weight loss. Despite being the very essence that sustains life, water is often underappreciated.

02, FOOD .ᐟ

I used to skip breakfast, thinking it would help me lose weight. However, studies show that those who eat breakfast tend to lose more weight and keep it off longer. The truth is, food is incredibly important. It's best to regulate your eating habits by consuming at least 3 meals per day, even if they're only small portions. Some food is better than no food. If you want to go on a diet, that's fine! but make sure you research healthy dieting methods. At a minimum, eat one serving of fruits and vegetables daily, and try to increase that to five servings per day if possible. Proper nutrition is key for your overall health.

03, HOBBIES .ᐟ

i have this previous post regarding hobbies you could try! It's so important to find fun activities that you genuinely enjoy and look forward to doing. Hobbies add fun to your life and pose as a nice break from technology and the stress of work and school. They also greatly improve symptoms of depression and anxiety. You could do some physical activity, such as a sport you like, or something more calm and creative, like painting or writing.

04, SLEEP .ᐟ

a lot of people struggle to fall asleep at a decent time. Try getting ready for bed early. Personally, I tend to take off my make up and do my skincare immediately after i come home for school/work so i don't have to worry about it before bed.

Technology is probably your sleeping schedule's worst enemy, as the blue light from the screen keeps your brain awake, so try to pause screen-related activities at least an hour before bed. Also, try not to snack 2 - 4 hours before you go to sleep. This is because lying down makes it harder for your body to digest food, which can result in sleeplessness.

Forcing yourself to go to bed super early isn't helpful either. Like I've mentioned in my other points, take things slow and gradual!

05, SOCIALIZATION .ᐟ

Engaging in simple social interactions, such as conversing with family, seeing friends, or greeting people on the street, is incredibly important. Isolating yourself in your room all day accomplishes nothing.

There was a time when I dreaded spending time with friends, convinced I lacked the energy or mood. However, once I forced myself to make plans, I realized how much I genuinely enjoyed their company. Other people are what make life truly worthwhile. So why not reach out to a friend right now and invite them to hang out tomorrow?

06, ACTIVITY .ᐟ

you don't need an exercise routine if you don't want one, but simple physical activity is still a daily necessity! At least 30 minutes is recommended. Personally, i most enjoy plugging in my headphones and going on a walk around my neighbourhood for an hour or two.

07, SELF TALK .ᐟ

Arguably one of my most important points, quit the self-deprecating talk. You never realize how much it affects you until you quit it. Yes, you can absolutely get that assessment done. Yes, you are a likable and amazing person. Just keep affirming and reminding yourself that you are worthy, and you will attract so many good things. Trust me, it will help you so much in the long run.

[dizzyrobinsims]

Like ok on one hand this is hilarious because, no.

The thing this about Shakespeare is that he CAUSED cultural shifts. We literally still say words and phrases today *because of him*. His plays have defined genres and are referenced everywhere.

Fanfiction, by definition, don't create culture they expand existing culture. Which is fine! But def not gonna be studied in the same range as original works that changed their cultural landscape.

NOW.

WITH THAT SAID.

It also cracks me up because few fanfiction writers seem to realize they are engaging in modern folklore and most likely 500 or so years in the future they will be discussed along the same lines as all the different versions of Robin Hood, Tam Lin, or Cinderella. That is, if the internet resources survive on in some form.

come on man

[power-handmaiden]

Day 180: Not Pounded By Self-Doubt Because I Can Do Anything I Set My Mind To

Ok, from the title I was expecting this to be a broad feel-good tingler. I wasn't expecting it to hit me in a personal place. So this post will get kind of personal.

I wish I had read this one earlier! Close to the beginning of this project I made a post about how I hoped to get some inspiration to be creative again from reading all these tinglers. I don't have any aspirations of making professional-grade work like the protagonist of this story... I just missed being able to channel my feelings into hobbies I used to enjoy. I don't think I was able to put voice to exactly the problem for all those years- I thought I just couldn't think of ideas anymore. That wasn't it, though. I was feeling exactly what the protagonist of this story was feeling- self-doubt over the quality of his ideas. They were all too ridiculous, or too niche, or not fleshed-out enough (when you've gone creatively stagnant it's so easy to forget how those inklings of ideas have a tendency to develop themselves once you get down to actually writing/drawing them out!)

But, while I feel like this tingler is a great one for anyone feeling this way with their creativity... I think tinglers in general, especially the act of opening oneself to enjoying them without any feelings of irony, can be just as powerful. For fuck's sake, I read a story where a guy named Rim Tuesday fell in love with and had sex with a sentient veggie burger. And I LOVED it. And I could tell the author had fun writing it! Who's to say any idea is too ridiculous when the work I just described is an incredibly enjoyable one?!

Recently, I've gotten back into writing fanfiction. Slowly, but it's a start after letting the self-doubt keep me down for so long. It's fun! And this tingler makes me feel good about picking the hobby back up. This tingler is a good reminder that the fun I'm having with the ideas (hardcore lesbian sex between video game characters mostly, to be clear) makes it worthwhile no matter how far what I'm doing lies beyond what popular opinion would call "good" or "respectable" art.

[obsessedwhyyes]

The Learned Observer

Fic Request: Voyeurism

Summary: On a sleepless night, Gale notices the distinct sound of hushed voices outside his tent. It couldn't be you and Astarion… could it? When he decides to take a peek - to satisfy his scholarly curiosity, of course - he gets more than he bargained for.

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2623 Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader, implied Astarion x Gale x Fem!Reader Content: Gale's POV (first person), voyeurism, dry humping, handjob, public sex, male masturbation, a little bit of jealousy.

A/N: Gale, in my humble opinion, would not use the word, “cock.” I cannot express how hard it was to not use the word, "cock" in a smut fic. I frigging love that word. Anyways, writing entirely in Gale’s voice was honestly the most fun mini challenge I’ve set myself so far, and I would gladly do first person BG3 companion POVs again. Thank you, dear anon, for the request!

Another sleepless night.

The orb pulses beneath my skin, each throb a reminder of my predicament.

I implore my mind to wander to the events of our journey, to the challenges that lie ahead, in pursuit of a worthwhile distraction. But the orb’s hunger grows stronger, like a raging maelstrom, each tribute to its insistent pull a mere ripple against the tide of its endless consumption. Perhaps I should consult the others about–

… Voices drift from outside my tent before I can finish my thoughts. Curious.

Hushed laughter and whispered words. Astarion's distinctive timbre and… you.

The sound is soft, subtle - a quiet exchange. Yet, here I am, catching fragments of something private, something perhaps not intended for outside ears.

I shift, the faintest spark of curiosity pulling me from my solitude. It's innocent, surely - a late-night conversation, perhaps a shared joke. And yet, as the moments pass, I can't ignore the intimacy in your laughter, the way Astarion's voice drops to that silken murmur he reserves for his attempts at enticement.

Just a glance, I tell myself. Merely to understand what could be so amusing at this hour.

Slowly, carefully, I draw back a sliver of canvas, just enough to peek through.

My breath catches as my eyes adjust to the firelight outside. There, on the other side of the campfire, resting against a fallen log, you sit beside him, close - very close - your faces inches apart.

Your legs are entwined, and there’s an intensity in the way you look at each other. I’m taken aback by the hunger in the kiss that follows - one neither timid nor restrained. Your hands begin to explore each other with what I can only call fervour - the kind of urgency I hadn't known either of you possessed, let alone with each other. 

The way you move together speaks of raw desire rather than tender affection - this is clearly a new physical relationship.

When did this start? How did I miss the signs? Though perhaps I was too caught up in my own concerns to notice the lingering glances, the way you always seemed to find reasons to be near each other…

I tell myself it’s simple curiosity that keeps me here, observing. A certain academic interest, if you will. After all, Astarion has always been something of a hedonist - a man who indulges in his desires with a recklessness I sometimes envy, though rarely approve. But to see him like this - in action, as it were - offers a unique perspective on his character.

You murmur something I cannot make out, a teasing lilt in your voice, and Astarion laughs in that rakish, honeyed tone of his, as though thrilled to have you so wholly entranced. His hands grip your waist, and with a practised grace, he pulls you into his lap, the hem of your skirt spilling around you both. As his hands settle on your hips, you grind against what I can only assume to be a prominent hardness in his trousers, judging by the satisfied smirk on his face. 

You seem eager, pliant under his touch, responding in ways I confess I hadn’t thought you capable of - no, not like this. Not with him.

My heart hammers in my chest, a tension spreading through me that’s… increasingly difficult to ignore. And yet, I remind myself, this is mere observation, nothing more. A clinical exercise in understanding the intricacies of interpersonal attractions between a vampire and a mortal; the undercurrent of danger that befalls such an arrangement.

He holds you with a blend of confidence and entitlement that borders on decadent, his mouth at your neck, lips brushing against your skin with a maddening leisure that’s somehow indulgent and teasing all at once. His fangs linger there and, for a moment, my heart stops - surely he wouldn’t… Ah, no. No, he’s not feeding. He merely kisses your neck, fangs scraping lightly against your throat - close enough to tempt and tantalise. I see the goosebumps flare on your skin.

He whispers something low and unintelligible, and you let out a soft giggle, yielding in a way that speaks of trust - trust that’s he’s earned, somehow, despite his nature.

And then your hand drifts between you both, touching him through his trousers.

Gosh. I hadn’t thought you so bold.

Astarion’s body arches into your touch, his gaze darkening as he watches you with a hunger that’s both terrifying and… strangely beautiful. I find myself entranced, my breath shallow as I observe the way your fingers trace over him, the way he leans into you. The noise he makes when your fingers flex, squeezing him gently over the fabric… Gracious. 

There’s a strange, reluctant curiosity building within me. I should look away. I should grant you both the privacy you likely assume you have. And yet, my gaze remains fixed, drawn to the details of your encounter: the way his hands tighten on your waist, the way your breaths synchronise, the way he murmurs softly into your ear…

I am aware - painfully so - of the ache low in my body that has built with each passing moment, each glance, each touch. I am no stranger to restraint - I have spent years tempering my desires, sacrificing comforts in the pursuit of knowledge, of power. Yet, here, now, I feel that restraint begin to falter; to dissolve like ink in water, dispersing until it is all but unrecognisable. It has been so long, after all. So, so long.

When your hands move to the waistband of his trousers, my breath catches. Gods above, surely you won't, not out in the open... but yes. Yes, it seems you will.

When you pull him free, well - I’ve always wondered about vampire physiology, purely academically, of course. But the sight of him prompts rather less scholarly thoughts. He’s impressively endowed - perhaps it is wishful thinking to believe that this is but another gift of his condition. It’s fascinating how vampiric transformation affects every part of the body - he’s almost luminescent in the firelight, every inch of him perfect and unmarred. I notice the veins that trace along his length, faintly visible beneath his skin. He is, even now, a study in confidence, exuding a subtle power that one can only achieve when utterly comfortable in one’s own skin.

Your hand wraps around him, sliding up and down his length at a teasing pace, drawing forth a sound I have never heard our pale companion make - a soft, broken gasp, caught somewhere between a moan and a sigh. It sounds almost reluctant, as though he hadn’t meant for such a sound to slip past his lips. He twitches under your ministrations, and his grip on your hips tightens enough that there will surely be bruises tomorrow.

My fingers rest at my thigh, trembling ever so slightly. A small part of me - a remnant of reason, perhaps - tells me to pull back, to look away, to let this moment pass without surrendering to the need that has taken root within me. But my body, the traitorous thing it is, does not heed such commands. Instead, I find my hand drifting lower.

My fingers trace over the fabric of my trousers, over the aching hardness beneath. A gentle palming, barely enough to ease the tension that coils tighter with each passing moment as I watch the scene unfold.

Your hands elicit quiet murmurs from Astarion that grow deeper and more insistent with each passing moment. For a moment, the two of you share a look - one of conspiratorial mischief, perhaps - and then a soft, shared giggle, the sound mingling with the crackling of the fire. 

You're so utterly engrossed in him; so utterly unselfconscious.

You shift, a question in your eyes, and as he nods, giving his assent, you rise just enough to shift, positioning yourself over him. Your skirts drape around you both, providing a veneer of modesty, though there's no mistaking what follows when you sink yourself down on to him. The way your lips part in a gasp as he enters you, the way his head falls back with a victorious grin - it makes the tightness, the great ache between my legs, almost unbearable.

I find my hand slipping beneath my waistband.

Just a little relief, I tell myself. Just enough to ease this maddening tension.

There is a certain poetry to it, I suppose - this surrender to the pleasures of the flesh. I allow myself to imagine, as my hand finds the throbbing heat of my arousal, what it might feel to be in your place, to have someone look at me with that same confidence, to experience touch imbued with the certainty of one who knows precisely how to elicit pleasure - a knowledge gleaned from centuries, no doubt, of indulgence and conquest.

It’s enough to leave me aching for more than mere observation.

The fervour with which you move against him… it’s hypnotic, each roll of your hips drawing forth increasingly wanton sounds from you both. Astarion's carefully crafted demeanour gives way to something more roguish, a playful daring that glints in his eyes as you rise and fall and rise and fall on his length.

I find my hand instinctively matching your rhythm, every shift and motion, as though I, too, am bound to the undulating tempo that you and Astarion have created.

Gods… what must it be like to be him? To have someone so openly, eagerly drawn to you, meeting every touch with matching fervour? To hold someone close and feel their raw desire, the thrill of each laugh, each gasp, offered without hesitation? I wonder what it must be like to inspire such a response, to be desired so freely, without need for pretence or restraint?

With Mystra, I was ever the pursuer, striving tirelessly to earn even the barest hint of her approval, each moment together feeling like an examination I desperately hoped to pass. But Astarion… well. He needn't chase or convince. Despite his vampiric nature - or perhaps, in part, because of it - he is simply desired, freely given all that I once had to beg for. The inequity of it all would be rather poetic, if it weren't so personally vexing.

“A-ah!”

Your gasp cuts through my ruminations, pulling me back into the scene.

Astarion’s hand has slipped between you, guiding you to that final crescendo with a practised touch. The sight of it is utterly spellbinding: his fingers moving with a precision that speaks to centuries of experience, knowing just where to press, where to linger. The control he exercises over you is enviable, each movement of his hand coaxing you closer to that peak, his attention wholly focused on your reaction, even as your hips rock back and forth on his length with an increasingly frantic, unrestrained urgency.

The way your eyes roll back... Gosh.

The expression on your face, one of pure, unfiltered abandon, is a sight to behold.

Your body trembles as you reach your peak, and a sound - a cry, too loud in the stillness of the night - escapes your lips. Astarion’s palm clamps over your mouth, a futile attempt to muffle you in the throes of your climax. Though he hushes you, his expression suggests that he is not in the least bit concerned. In fact, he seems rather pleased - more than pleased, really. 

There’s a thrill in such a public display for him too, no doubt.

I swallow, the sound almost too loud, my heart pounding against my ribs as though it seeks to betray me. Astarion's head tilts slightly, his gaze flickering to the shadows, and for one heart-stopping moment, I think he has sensed me, that his attention has shifted from you to this invisible interloper, the scholar caught red-handed in his quiet act of voyeurism.

Could he... sense me here, lingering on the fringe of his private moment? Could he smell the stir of my own arousal, feel the faint tremor of my breath as I fight for composure? For several heartbeats, my hand freezes. I dare not even breathe.

But then his attentions return to you, and I breathe a sigh of relief. 

He brings his hands to your hips, holding them firmly in place as he drives himself upwards into you, deeper, with mounting desperation. It seems he seeks to chase his own release, content with the pleasure he has wrought you.

You respond eagerly, pressing closer, your own sounds growing louder, heedless of who might hear, and I can see that thrill in his face - the satisfaction of knowing he’s eliciting every reaction from you, drawing out each gasp, each shudder.

My hand glides hastily across my arousal, my own breathing growing ragged as I watch his control begin to slip. Even from here, I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his head tips back in pure abandon.

In the final throes, he presses himself against you, buried firmly to the hilt. It’s almost animalistic, all thoughts, all calculated movements, making way for one singular goal: to empty himself into you, filling you with all he has to offer with breaths rugged and low. All composure is stripped, replaced with instinct and pure need.

I find my own movements quickening to match his pace, as though some invisible thread binds us all to this moment. My hand tightens as I lose myself in the same tempo, every sound from you both spurring me closer. The sight of his final shudder, the look of utter satisfaction crossing his face as he reaches that height, is enough to tip me over the edge.

For a heartbeat, the night seems to hold us all in perfect suspension - your quiet gasps, his satisfied murmurs, my own silent echo of shared pleasure - all woven together in this clandestine tableau.

Only then, as the euphoria begins to fade, does a most uncomfortable awareness creep in.

Gods above, what have I... A scholar of worldly acclaim, reduced to voyeur, caught up in base desires like some common... No. Best not to dwell on such things. Though I suspect sleep will prove rather elusive tonight, haunted by questions of propriety and... other matters.

With a groan, I roll onto my back, the orb’s steady throb now a minor annoyance compared to the tangled thoughts that flood my mind. Perhaps I can chalk this entire… incident up to fatigue, a wandering mind, even a fevered dream. Yes, that must be it. The product of a restless night and, possibly, a touch of indigestion. After all, who could believe that I, Gale of Waterdeep, would be brought so low as to... well, that.

As morning light spills across camp, I attempt a façade of normalcy, willing my cheeks to cool and my mind to settle. Just as I convince myself the night’s events were nothing more than a peculiar dream, Astarion sidles up, his expression one of leisurely amusement.

"Restless night, Gale?” he murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear. His gaze is as sharp as his tone, a knowing glint in his eyes that makes my stomach twist in the most uncomfortable way. "I thought I heard a... stirring from your tent."

The corner of his mouth quirks up in that infuriatingly smug way of his, and I nearly choke on my response. 

He knew. 

Astarion knew. 

I force a cough, pretending to inspect the morning sky.

"A dream," I reply a bit too quickly. "Perhaps the cheese at dinner was... overly ripe."

But Astarion merely chuckles, a wicked sound, before strolling away with a satisfied air. And as I watch him saunter off, I’m left to question just how much of the night was a dream - and how much, mortifyingly, was very, very real.

Masterlist can be found here!

No Pressure Tags: @roguishcat @davenswitcher @silverfangmarks @sparrowbard @chonkercatto @stokzr @trafalgarussy @asterordinary

[meganwhalenturner]

Somebody wrote to ask me for advice on writing. This is what I told them:

I'm terrible at giving writing advice. I know that the best advice for one person can be the very worst for another, so feel free to ignore all of this except for the very first bit:  

There are a lot of people who will tell you they can help you write better, get your manuscript edited, get your book published.  A lot of them just want your money. As a general rule, don't give people your money for what you write -- make people give you THEIR money for what you write.  I've heard this called Yog's Law:  Money Should Flow to the Author.

Check out the Writer Beware site run by SFWA.

Not every writing program is a scam, but don't think you have to have an MFA or attend a famous writing workshop to be taken seriously as a writer.  You don't.

Decide who you are writing for before you start.  It's okay to write for yourself.  It's okay to write for that one person in high school with whom you shared fanfiction.  (I did that, it was The Thief).  It's okay to aim for a worldwide audience and it's okay to write for the three people in the entire world who will appreciate your story.  When you run into criticism (and you will) you want to be able to ask yourself if the criticism is coming from your audience.  If it's not, take it with a big grain of salt.

Writing can be hard work and it feels good to work hard, but it's okay to do it for fun.  Maybe you just want to write craptastic fanfiction -- you should do that and I hope you enjoy yourself.  Don't let other people dictate what "worthwhile" writing is.

Don't be afraid to write badly. Don't be afraid you'll "waste" that really good idea you have because you couldn't write well enough to do it justice.  You'll have another good idea.  

You have to write to be a writer.  That sounds obvious, but you have to figure out for yourself what makes writing happen and then you have to do it.  Some people will tell you their way of writing is guaranteed to work.  Do not believe them.  Some people can set themselves goals -- they write 2,000 words a day and they are good words!  Some set themselves a goal and they waste an entire day squeezing out 2,000 garbage words. Sometimes the conditions that you need in order to work will seem silly.  Friederich Von Schiller kept rotting apples around to sniff while he wrote.  I don't know if that would work for you. Only you know the way for you.  

Good luck,

~mwt

[junowritings]

Could I request pre-romanced but interested Astarion (spawn), Gale, Halsin, and Rolan each reacting to Tav, in a moment of desperation, transforming into a silver dragon to save him from death. The kicker? Tav did not remember that they were a true dragon due to the tadpole wrecking their memory and is just as caught off guard by this revelation as he is.

Oh now this was too much fun to write! I ended up trying to generate a different scenario for each of them bc it was fun to imagine the context for each of them! :D

Astarion

♡ What a foolish thing; to let your guard down. Astarion knows better than most that nothing good would come of doing something so utterly stupid, no matter how safe. And yet he makes that very same pitfall after a battle with gnolls goes awry. Most of the beasts had been knocked off the nearby cliff-face, an underhanded tactic but he knew well to make use of the terrain even at the cost of any worthwhile loot. The rest had been picked off easily, and when Astarion buries his dagger into the gnoll prone beneath him the tension in the air finally seems to ease - the battle is over, for now.

♡ He’s still picking bits of viscera from his clothes, bemoaning the effort it’s going to take to pluck the gore from the decals when he spots you across the battlefield. You’re helping Karlach pry her axe free from getting a bit too gung-ho on an enemy’s skull, and he watches your face scrunch up from the effort with a snort. You catch his gaze when you look up, returning his fanged grin with an unamused huff of your own. It’s a sweet sight, even marred by blood and dirt, and Astarion makes a move to rise to his feet intending to amble over and watch you either succeed or count the axe as a loss. That was the plan-

♡ Until the carcass beneath him lurches, a screaming mass that in its death rattle bowls them both straight over the edge. And in the blink of an eye he’s in freefall, barely catching the look of horror on your face before he slips from sight.

♡ It’s nowhere near as graceful as the tales make believe. The wind bites at Astarion’s face and whips around him hard enough that his ears ring as hands try to grapple for purchase against the wall of the cliff. Nothing catches, only grabbing fistfuls of dirt and catching on rocks that crumble away beneath his fingers. No, no, no this was not how he was going to die; but there’s nothing to hold, nothing to see but the vast expanse of sky above his head as though taunting his very fate-

♡ And something else. Something large and scaled and burning silver as wings fan out enough to block out the sun as it appears practically out of thin air.

♡ A dragon. As if things couldn’t get worse?! Astarion’s cursing just about every force in the universe that he can think of as the beast plummets to close the distance. It’s there in seconds, a rippling wave of silver that swelters the very air as a taloned hand shoots out and catches him around the midsection. He expects to be eaten, maybe plucked to pieces right there and then; instead the dragon’s body rolls mid flight, curling close around the vampire spawn like a protective shield as the ground rushes to meet them. 

♡ The landing isn’t gentle, having been too close to the ground to take flight. Both hit the earth but it isn’t the fatal fall it could have been. At one point he slips from the dragon’s talons, and by the time he’s wormed his way free he’s marred by dirt and spitting leaves alongside the plethora of curses in his vocabulary. But he’s alive.

♡ He certainly wasn’t complaining about that, but his head is still spinning with the ‘why’ of it all - where had that beast come from? Why  hadn’t it killed him when it had the chance? He’s already looking for his dagger that had been lost in the fall as he scrambles to his feet, whipping around to face the dragon as he hears it stir. But he doesn’t find it. No, instead he finds-

♡ You. The last of the draconic visage crumbles like burned parchment, and you slump to your knees in the gouge your previous form had carved into the earth. Your hands tremble as you bring them up to your face, inspecting them like you’re checking that they’re truly there before your head shoots up to look at the vampire spawn you’d just saved. There’s a wild look in your eyes, confusion evident as you mirror his own slack jawed expression and trip over yourself to get back onto your feet with a scream of “What was that?!”

♡ At first he doesn’t believe your pleas of ignorance, and doesn’t get why you’re trying to protest so hard that you didn’t know. It’s not as though he hasn’t kept secrets from the group before - it’s not as though he willingly shared he was a spawn holding hands around the campfire like a jolly old fellow, did he? He’s not going to fault you for keeping your secrets so long as it’s not getting him killed. 

♡ But then he catches you pacing later that night back at camp, muttering to yourself of how you could forget and mulling over what else you’d lost with the tadpole. That kind of panic isn’t easy to fake, and you aren’t even aware of the audience to fake it. Has that tadpole altered your memories that thoroughly? A disturbing thought.

♡ Of course he’ll be the first person to encourage you to use this ‘new’ form of yours to your advantage - why wouldn’t you? It’s not everyday that someone finds out that they can turn into a hulking magical creature at the drop of a hat, so why not make the most of it? Not to mention it will be excellent for both combat and persuading anyone who makes the mistake of thinking that you’re easy prey.

♡ Of course that brings the whole other question of - why the hells did you jump after him?! Did you think your little friend in the artifact would somehow save the two of you again?! You hadn't even hesitated to reach for him; to protect him…Astarion doesn’t know whether to throttle you over your own self sacrificing logic, or kiss your damned face until any thought of risking your life like that again goes out of the window.

♡ Perhaps he’ll do both - he hasn’t decided yet.

♡ Plus, he’ll never admit it, but the camp feels a little safer knowing that it’s got a fire breathing, flying scaled powerhouse for a leader - might move his tent just a little closer to your own after that realization. 

Gale

♡ Wizards and close combat rarely mix well together. It has been somewhat of a running gag between the pair of you since the first tussle back at the grove when he nearly went sailing off the rocks he’d been casting from when a sword got far too close to his flank for his liking. You’d been there to save him, of course, biting back a teasing comment on his ‘graceful trip’ and trying not to chuckle as you’d helped the man back to his feet when it was all over. Gale naturally had been just as quick to remind you that even with his lack of tact for fisticuffs he was just as capable at keeping you as safe as you kept him. As he’d proved with a well timed magic missile not even one fight later,.

♡ The understanding was mutual - he’d protect you with all of the magic at his disposal, and you would do what you can to shield him on the battlefront. As you got closer, and the wizard got the opportunity to know you better, that protection evolved to something deeper. Something more than just having one another’s back out of necessity; the thought of any harm coming to you in the first place had been a sour notion, but now it was downright unthinkable. You took every blow meant for him without hesitation; pushed back any blade or arrow meant for him even if it led to adding a few more scars to your repertoire. And gods if you didn’t look absolutely stunning doing it.

♡ This time is no different. The sounds of battle ring in his ears, the clashing of weapons striking drowned out only by the roars of a group thrust into combat. Considering just how many unique faces make up their party (with a githyanki warrior, a renowned hero of the coast, and an excitable yet combustible tiefling - to name a few) Gale is surprised that bandits would even try their luck against this gaggle of adventurers. But where your group has skill, theirs has numbers, and this fight has been going on long enough that everyone is exhausted, frayed and running out of steam.

♡ He watches you on the other side of the battlefield, weapon clutched tightly in clenched fists and eyes burning with the fire of combat as you call out to your companions. You’re trying to pinpoint everyone's locations, caught up in the fighting as your weapon comes down on a bandit’s head. Multiple voices call out to you and Gale opens his mouth to join them, the air around crackling as he rears back to cast another spell. But the words barely get past his lips before he feels a solid blow to the back of the head and for just a second his world goes white. There’s a kick to his back and the world topples before he hands on him. 

♡There is a fist wrapped up in his hair and a blade so close to his gut to breathe is a risk. One of the bandits - how had they gotten so close without him noticing? Had he gotten complacent thinking he was safe from his vantage point? A knee digs into him and the wheeze he lets out is pained as he attempts to throw the bandit off. But Gale’s not a fighter, and it’s getting harder to think straight when another hard yank knocks his head against the ground with a harsh crack. Magic pulses at his fingertips as they rake up dirt, the words forming in his mouth hoping to get them out before that blade decides to get familiar with his insides. If only he could just-

♡ What comes next happens suddenly. A rush of air, an unrelenting wave of heat and the weight suffocating him is gone. The bandit’s body is hoisted up in a cushing jaw, only able to get out little more than a scream before they’re essentially ragdolled across the field. The threat of an imminent gutting is gone, but Gale finds himself unable to breathe once again as he realizes what exactly has descended upon him.

♡ Multiple times his size with several layers of thick silver hide, and adorned with thick leathery wings, a dragon prowls overhead. Slitted eyes scan across the battlefield, taking in the carnage and what remains of the stragglers that Gale’s companions haven’t taken down with a surprisingly clarity. It’s…looking for something? No, someone - your companions. He watches the creatures head tilt, letting out something akin to a billowing rumble before setting its sights back on the wizard still very much pinned beneath it. 

♡ The dragon’s head leans down, a huff of air feeling sweltering against his face as he comes face to snout with the creature that could easily turn him into wizard-chow with but a bite of that wall of teeth in its maw. But it doesn’t; instead it lets out another huff and there’s a ripple that seems to shake every single scale on its body before it’s shifting. It shrinks, morphs, changes into someone all too familiar as you drop down to your knees. Poor Gale almost gets a limb to the gut again as you slump down beside him, shaking off some sort of daze as you come back to your senses. It’s you - that dragon was you?

♡Gale doesn’t realize he’s shouting till he hears your own voice shouting along with him just as confused and panicked. Surely the pair of you must look like fools, unable to get out any kind of coherent word as your brains catch up to. You end up having to cover his mouth with your hand so that there’s enough quiet to actually process what has just happened, but Gale doesn’t miss how utterly lost you look about the whole ordeal - clearly this is as much news to you as it is to him.

♡ Once things have calmed down (and he’s checked to make sure he didn’t infact get punctured by a stray talon on the way down) Gale is absolutely fascinated. Nothing short of a kid in a candy store, this man is enthralled by the implications of your transformation. He knows you’re shaken of course, and he gives you time to do whatever you need to to ground yourself before he thinks to act upon any of his burning questions. He hopes to shed some light on things by working through these questions with you, hoping that they’ll spark some recollection you couldn’t remember before. 

♡ He’s tactful, tries to be subtle but you can tell that he’s clearly excited to learn about the origins of this ability. Is it related to your bloodline? Or were you perhaps cursed? Could this be some kind of advanced wildshape unbefore discovered? It doesn’t hurt you, does it? The last question gives the wizard pause, and he can’t quite relax till you assure him that the process doesn’t cause you pain.

♡ Depending on if your memories came back after your first transformation, you’ll only be able to give him so many answers. Feel free to practice your abilities around him though. At first he keeps a safe, out of the line of fire-distance, but it doesn’t take long before he inches closer until he’s close enough to run a hand along your flank if you allow him. There is an almost reverent touch alongside his curiosity as he marvels at the sight of you - breathtaking, is the only word he can find to describe it as you extend a wing for him to examine. 

Halsin

♡ Halsin has lived long enough to see many beings, experience many things. But he’s not fool enough to simply assume that he’s seen all that this world has to offer. There are still plenty of things to discover, many days and events he has yet to live amongst these new companions that have stumbled their way into the druid’s life.

♡Every moment with you has been a shining example of that fact - from the tadpole in your skull that you somehow manage to resist with each passing day, to the very way you approach the world around you. You somehow always managed to leave Halsin guessing, trying to wrap his head around the impossibility of you - regardless of you background, regardless of your creed or the life you lived before the tadpole, you remained a walking anomaly. Once which kept him on his toes, wondering what facet of you that you would reveal to him next.

♡ Of course he had done the same for you - you’d just about knocked your whole team over when he’d transformed after you’d first rescued the druid; recalled to you events and moments in his life that had anyone else told you, you would have called bullshit. It was a mutual exchange - you were open to him, and so he would do the same for you. He trusted you after all, and hoped you felt the same for him.

♡ That trust extended to the battlefield as well. Halsin’s desire to protect extended to the entirety of your party, naturally, but you were under a watchful eye with this man. Your penchant for the disregard of your own safety left much to be desired in the ways of keeping you safe; the needs of others or obtaining what you want often put above your own safety in the throes of a fight. Your habits of getting into trouble were something he grows far used to by now, so Halsin willingly takes the mantle of your protector, if only to save you from all of the scratches and scars that you’ll no doubt earn yourself down the road with your current mindset.

♡ Such as now. Within a wildshape, Halsin acts as a defensive shield for the other companions in a fight against a stray goblin raiding party. The leftover dregs of the ones from back at the temple that were set on hunting the party down long after the fall of the cultist once housed there. Teeth and claws rip and tear into goblin flesh and bone with ease, the bear acting as an utter powerhouse shrugging off each and every hit as though he was being poked with sticks and not swords. Things look to be over swiftly, as alongside the attacks of yourself and your other companions the goblin’s ranks are quickly dwindling - having either been felled by your defense or fled once they realize it was not a fight so easily won. With luck, you’ll all be back at camp before sundown.

♡ It is you who warns him that that’s not the case. He hears your voice, hears your scream of his name and Halsin cranes his head in an attempt to seek you out worried that something had happened to you when he wasn’t looking.

♡ But then a blinding light bursts against his side and he roars, loud and anguished at the sudden pain that washes over - some kind of explosive, brutal and all too effective against the druid. It’s enough for him to drop, barely still clinging to his wildshaped form as he braces against the earth in a bid to get back to his feet. What’s left of the goblins swarm, threatening to overwhelm him in his vulnerability and Halsin prepares himself for the approaching onslaught that closes in on him.

♡ Then something slams overhead, the squeals and cries of the goblins drowned out by a blinding roar that rings in the air like a toll as something impossibly large lands above Halsin and the goblins barricading them from their assault behind the wall of its body. A thick sweltering heat takes over, emanating from scales that glint like fine silver as the large body of a dragon settles overhead, and the area around them becomes alive with noise and chaos in its wake. 

♡ The very ground trembles under thick clawed footfalls - the trees groaning barely avoiding the wrath of this dragon as it rises to its full height and lunges for the attackers. The goblins never stand a chance - whichever ones weren’t smart enough to scarper before are taken out with little more than a snap of jaws and the swipe of a tail. Large claws break into the earth below, digging deep as though to ensure the dragon doesn’t move an inch from the druid’s side even as the last of the goblins are reduced to shreds. 

♡ When it is all over the creature visibly loses its hostility as it rounds once again upon Halsin. A firm nudge to his side, as gentle as a beast of this size can be and Halsin manages to push himself back to his feet, shedding the form of his barely clinging wildshape as exhaustion settles heavily upon his shoulders. By this point he knows that it means no harm, head pressed to his side until he’s firm in his stance before slinking away and circling around the druid as though appraising, checking for more damage. When none is found there’s a twitch, a shift in its tail that works its way up to its skull as though its very being is unraveling before Halsin’s eyes - and that’s exactly what happens.

♡ Scales and talons shift and rend, giving way to familiar flesh and a face the druid has all but committed to memory. This time he is the one to offer support, large hands coming up to brace upon your shoulders as you stumble over yourself looking about with a bewildered expression. “That was…what did I…?” Your words are met with a gentle assurance that that can be tackled in due time - it’s better to tackle those questions with a clearer head after nursing your injuries. And he’ll be right there will you, even guiding you back to camp till you practically insist that you’ll be fine on your own.

♡ Halsin has heard of many species and many abilities, but nothing that’s quite like a dragon shifter. At least, not one like you seem to be. You seem just as distraught by that knowledge, alongside the fact that this appears. Yet another thing that the tadpole has taken from you, if your belief to have had this ability before is true. It isn’t much different than using wildshape, as you learn once you talk through the experience with Halsin - what you were feeling before, what you were thinking. You admit that the only thing on your mind had been protecting him when you’d turned, horrified at the sight of him hurt and just out of your reach to save. The look of momentary surprise on Halsin’s face melts into something far softer at the revelation, a gentle praise at your own thoughtfulness to protect others that may leave you feeling bashful.

♡ Halsin actively encourages you to shift whenever you feel the desire to do so. Learn more about this form and what it means to you; refamiliarize yourself with a part of you that you’ve been separated from for such a time. He’ll talk you through it should you express any need for support, but he knows that you’re more than capable of controlling this aspect of yourself just as you have before. Of course he’ll also be admiring you the whole time, nothing but honest praise about the power of your form and the beauty of this other part of you.

Rolan

♡ It was a mistake to have ever come to the shadowlands - now Rolan is losing everything. Cal, Lia, his very own life; all of it is going to be snuffed out by the oppressive darkness which has defiled every inch of this place, and he’s powerless to do anything to stop it. All he had wanted to do was to make a life for his family, to make Rolan a name that they and others could be proud of. But every good deed seemed to only make things worse in the end - hells had even that one act of kindness saving those damned kids been rewarded like this? Not even his attempt to save his siblings had worked and now he was facing perishing in a land where death was never kind, as though the world was giving him one final kick when he was down to remind him of his own shortcomings. 

♡ Shadows circle in, lured in by the dwindling embers of his torch which is the only thing barely keeping him alive in this forsaken wasteland. But that is not enough; they claw at the edges of his light, ripping and tearing at the hem of his robes and grasping for his ankles, hoping to get a foothold on the tiefling long enough to drag him off into the darkness to never be seen again. Panic unfurls in his gut, burning brighter than the useless glorified stick clenched between sharp nails as he wrenches himself free of their grasp and stumbles over himself trying in vain to make some distance.

♡ He’s got minutes at the most, moments at the least; and those creatures writhing in shadow and dark have the luxury of biding their time waiting out his final seconds. He’s going to die here - without ever seeing his siblings again. What had he ever done to deserve such a cruel ending?

♡ But it doesn’t end - at least, not here.

♡ A roar breaks through the sound of his pulse pounding in his ears, and every hair on the back of his neck stands up as a chill shoots down his spine like a shot of ice. What, had some worse creature come to finish him off? As if being torn to shreds within the shadowlands wasn’t bad enough, now he’s got to contend with something bigger. And gods, is it bigger. Even through the thick smog of the shadowlands it stands out like a beacon of silver, its very scales giving off a faint glow within the darkness as though the shadows themselves are reviled by its presence alone. A feeling sinks within the pit of his chest the moment that he realizes what manner of creature is stalking towards him.  A dragon - gods, why did it have to be a dragon?!

♡ The beast is huge, a rippling wall of impenetrable flesh that cuts through the space between them in little more than a few bounds. Wings stretch wide, an impressively intimidating display as taloned hands slam down on where the shadows persist. The shadows dissipate easily beneath its claws but their shriek in indignation warbles uselessly, clearly not expecting the sudden attack in their bid for new prey. What the shadows have in number the dragon compensates for in size, easily swiping down a handful before attempting to latch onto another with its sizable maw.

♡ Rolan can’t tell if it’s doing any damage, but whatever perceived slight this dragon has on the shadows Rolan isn’t going to question. The shadows have their attention turned to the beast; if he has any intention of making it out alive he reasons he needs to get out of here now. But that’s easier said than done when one wrong move could have him meeting the business end of a stray swipe or the lingering shadow taking the opportunity to pounce. He’s going nowhere - not while the fight persists.

♡ Eventually the shadows must decide that facing a dragon isn’t worth the trouble just for making the meal out of the tiefling, and no sooner had Rolan been surrounded, the shadowy figures slink back into the deepest recesses of the darkness. A wave of relief warms his bones at the realization that they’ve slithered back to whatever domain formed them - he’s alive.

♡ But then those slitted eyes land back on him, and Rolan decides his chances may have been better dealing with those shadows. His attempts to escape are thwarted, the dragon rounding on him in a manner far slower than the frantic thrashing of before. No, it’s watching him, and the tiefling is rendered frozen at the curious way it tilts its head as though it recognizes something familiar.. 

♡ Almost jumps out of his own skin when it nudges him, a quick bump of its head that almost knocks him flat. Rolan barks out a curse, but the winged creature insists on pushing him till he finally takes the hint and moves to where it’s clearly wanting him to go. Gods, this is unnerving and he doesn’t know what it wants until the nudging finally stops and he finds himself staring down at the lump of belongings haphazardly discarded at his feet. And he tenses. 

♡ This pack - that lantern - he knows who they belong to at a glance. And no sooner has he put the pieces together that there’s a ripple of energy, a shift in the very air as the dragon before him begins to change. It molds into something else, taking on a form far more familiar - the last face he’d thought to see, but perhaps the one he should have expected.

♡ You just about keel over, clutching your knees and shaking bad enough to match his own as you let out a wheeze. You’re not worse for wear aside from the general health risks of being out in a land so tainted by dark magic, but even as you dust yourself off and look over at Rolan, you once again leave him speechless with a quick quip of “So…that was new.”

♡New? NEW?! You mean you just suddenly discovered your shifting abilities, like some twisted epiphany?! The pair of you must be a right sight, huddled around the moon lantern with him slack jawed and you looking more confused than you have any right to be after that stunt. It’s too much to process, and he’s still reeling from the near death experience and everything that has happened in such a short amount of time. Doesn’t put up nearly as much of a fight as he would have in his right mind when you urge him to go back to the inn - you’re grateful for that, or he might have insisted on coming with you even more.

♡ He doesn’t get to grill you on your abilities until everyone is finally safe. Many are enjoying what little respite they can get before they move on to the next place away from here, and he catches you finishing up your own business at the inn hoping for answers before you leave. Like Astarion, he has doubts that you didn’t know. Really? Not even an inkling to the draconic blood in your veins or where it had come from. Tries not to be frustrated at the shrug you offer in response, having to remind himself that this is a new development for you - he’s not going to pry you with questions when you’re likely still struggling to wrap your head around the prospect yourself.

♡ Once Rolan realizes what had triggered your transformation he goes uncharacteristically quiet, staring hard at your face as though trying to gauge your bluff. When he finds none his voice breaks with his gratitude, hiding the shake behind a cleared throat as he breaks eye contact suddenly struggling to meet the sincerity in your gaze. That was…perhaps he needed to rethink what exactly that - he - meant to you another time; in a place where there’s not always life or death on the line.

[fairies-in-the-garden]

a worthwhile purchase

pedro pascal x fem!reader | 3k words

summary: your new robe grips pedro's attention… leaving the both of you very pleased you bought it

warnings/notes: explicit (18+). smut. p in v. oral (fem receiving). established relationship. mutual teasing (but dominant pedro) some soft pedro. pretty much filth with some lead up.

a/n - first post!!! i've been writing for years but only now have the guts to post anything. sorry if it’s a bit too wordy (i just love writing detailed description) i really hope you enjoy - this one was very fun to make :)

--- --- ---

with a flick of the light switch, you make your way out of the darkened bathroom to join pedro in bed. the thought of curling up sweetly beside him almost as warm as the new robe, fresh from the dryer, that delicately hugs your figure.

to your surprise, he is sitting on the end of the bed, patiently, seemingly awaiting your arrival. the sound of your soft steps against the hardwood floor catches his attention, his head turning to you approaching in the doorway. instantly, his expression shifts - a look all to familiar, happily so.

“what?” you say a few times, at first with genuine curiosity, then more so with slight tease. you can’t help but smirk at him, against your best attempt at remaining unaffected by his gaze.

you’re stuck standing in your place against the doorframe; his affect on you strong as ever. nevertheless, you try to fight it - the best way you know how.

“why are you looking at me like that?” you say, teasingly. you know the meaning beneath that look. but you also know that how you approach this moment, makes the reason for that look’s presence even more avid.

“like what?” he plays along, per usual. he has that way of never breaking character. that way of not revealing his fatal smirk until he wants to.

“like a kid in a candy store.” you reply, coyly.

“i can't help it, it's how i feel.” his head tilts to the side, as to take you all in. his stare burns into you, and you love the way it stings just right.

blushing, you walk towards him; pedro’s eyes never dropping their gaze upon yours. his legs spread instinctually to allow you closer, yet his hands stay prudently at his side. you step in as far as possible, thighs touching thighs. as you place your hands at his ever-so-tense shoulders, his hands wrap swiftly around your wrists, grabbing hold of them gently. his eyes remain locked on yours as his lips, in which your timid gaze has fallen to, part to speak. “when did you get this?”

at first, your mind is too blissed out to understand what he’s referring to, but his fingers quickly bring you back to reality. one of his hands now trails to the sleeve of your filly new robe; black and satin, draped over your body in the most heavenly way. the front hangs open, exposing your figure beneath it.

“today,” you state plainly.

“any particular reason?” he says suggestively.

“i like the way it makes me feel.”

“i like the way it makes you look.” he says, eyes widening at his own words as they scan up and down your frame. you scoff slightly in response, unconvinced of his words of praise.

“i’m not even in my sexy underwear.” you find yourself to say in a whisper, though not exactly sure why. probably the nerves from his longing eyes now back on yours.

“i still think they're sexy,” his lips remain parted slightly, as if to say more. his hands fall from their place on your arms to your hips, his fingers hanging gingerly from the waistband of your panties. then he continues, shyly like a child, but with enough charm to kill a village, “can i take them off?”

his hard, dominating gaze falls soft for a moment as he begs beneath you. with the slight shift, a surge of confidence rushes through you.

“i suppose.” you say teasingly, feeling as though you now have the upper hand.

his hands make their way around your waist to your back. icy, their touch sends a shiver up your spine. abruptly, to your dismay, you exclaim "jesus your hands are cold!” your eyes fall shut, head thrown back, as your hands grasp the hair at the back of his head for support.

“not for long.” he claims, the smirk in his voice evident. and just like that, as usual, your short-lived dominance has been stolen. your eyes remain shut for a moment, as if to prepare yourself for what’s to come.

“look at me.” you tilt your head down before slowly opening your eyes; eyelids hanging low as if to cover yourself somehow. but theres no staying covered when pedro is like this.

he looks up at you, pupils enlarging as he takes you all in. you feel his hand gently trace circles on your lower back. you watch him intently as he leans forward, placing a kiss between your breasts. the contact makes you shudder, your breath hitching and becoming heavier, more needy. you’re convinced he must be able to hear your heart beating from the outside; it’s certainly all you can hear in the moment. he hums as he pulls away from the lingering kiss.

“i love that after all these years you still react that way.” he thinks he is in control here, and although you know he is, you’re desperate to act the opposite. after a moment of collection, you have the courage to speak.

“and still, after all these years, i'm impatient.” you say giving him a certain look.

“i’m gonna take things slow.” - again with the assumed control, you think.

“i’ll allow it.” you say proudly, managing to remain serious and self-assured. he chuckles at your words, a defeated grin taking over his lips. that’s better.

both of pedro’s hands trail up, locating the clasp of your bra and undoing it in a swift, skilled motion. you’d hoped he’d find your wearing it to bed silly, leading to this eventually; but this is all the more greater than you’d anticipated.

your breasts spill out slightly, though still somewhat contained by the straps wrapped around your shoulders. pedro’s hands slowly snake out from behind your back, carefully caressing your waist on the way. reaching both arms up the billowing sleeves of your robe, he grabs ahold of the straps, gently bringing them down around your arms.

“now that's real sexy, huh?” you say sarcastically at the odd maneuver. he watches you intently as you speak, spellbound by you. you’re not even sure he heard what you said. then his eyes make way to your chest, your breasts bouncing out from your bra, now fallen to the floor.

“really sexy.” he says, eyeing your now exposed chest.

his hands find their way around you again, pulling you in to close the gap. you fall into him, your legs lazily finding their place on either side of him for support. eager, his mouth finds way to your breasts, leaving a trail of sweet kisses across your skin. the warm, wet sensation leaves you entranced. your chest rapidly heaves as he works his magic. coming up for air, he looks to you, eyes darkened with lust, before diving back in for more - this time to your mouth.

his kiss starts sweet, tender, and deepens to a rough, sloppy fashion. your hands, still tangled in his hair, move down to the neck of his shirt, pulling on it as if to signal him. he obeys, lifting his arms up, not breaking the kiss until the last necessary moment. once his shirt is off, thrown somewhere across the room, he goes right back for more.

his hands are immediately back to your waist, nuzzled under the soft satin of your robe. your lips go numb from the euphoria of it all. gently, he grabs your bottom lip with his teeth, nibbling it softly. releasing it, with one last peck to your mouth, he pulls away. you whimper at the loss of contact.

“can you lay down for me?” he asks tenderly as he rises, guiding you up with him. you happily take his supporting arms, finding that your legs are no help in the process. eyes lock as you nod, biting your lip as you turn with him, your body now the one at the edge of the bed. 

he leads you benevolently to lay on your back, using his knee to spread your legs as he does. your body melts into the mattress, completely at pedro’s will - and he lives for it.

your back arches as you adjust yourself on the bed. pedro’s rough hands lay softly on your knees, holding them open as he watches over you. “fuck,” his tone is rough before it turns sweet, “look at you...” you wonder if the words weren’t meant to slip out. you blush at them regardless. 

as his hands slide up your thighs, your eyes squint shut in anticipation. pedro, however, wildly gazes down at you. “so wet for me already, huh...” he says brazenly, noticing your already soaked panties. his hands linger closer to tease the skin just before your still clothed pussy, achingly taking his time.

“pedro,” you whimper. the pace, although clearly stated earlier, is driving you crazy with need. he ignores your words and continues his game. climbing onto the end of the bed, he hovers over you. his hands now on your waist. his eyes locked on your burning face. you watch him, dazed, waiting for him to make his next move.

his fingers dance around the waistband of your panties, beginning to tug at them, then stopping all at once. you grunt. he laughs to himself, then proceeds again. looping around the hem, pedro pulls them down painfully slowly. the cool air of the room hits your most sensitive spot in a delightfully, erotic way. 

as you lift your hips for him to remove the tangled cloth the rest of the way, he helps you - raising your legs the rest of the way then resting them over his shoulders when done. leaning down, you feel his hot breathe right where you want it.

with a kiss to each thigh, ever so close to your throbbing center, you let out an agonizing moan. “pedro, please.” you sound desperate, but you don’t care anymore.

“what?” acting coy, he begins to pull back to look to you, but you force him back down with your legs before he has the chance. you hear that smirk in his voice again when he speaks, “what do you want, baby? tell me.”

“touch me,” you say instantly, breathlessly, “now.”

in lieu of words, he breaks the distance. his mouth crashing into your pussy, spreading you open with his warm, eager tongue. he aims straight for your aching clit. a whimpering mess, your back wiggles and arches with every movement. your hands grasp hopelessly at the sheets before moving to his hair. his head bobs beneath your hands, your body squirming pleasantly beneath him.

“oh fuck,” you let out as his tongue works at all the places you need it most.

“that’s it baby,” his words are tender as he pulls away briefly. a whimper is all that fills the air as you mourn the loss of his sweet contact. with composure, you lift your head to look down at him. his face shiny, lips dripping with your slick, his eyes fixated on yours. 

with a smirk he spits directly on your clit. your back arches at the euphoric sensation. eyes rolling back, your head follows swiftly with a thud to the pillow beneath it. before you can even plead for him to hurry up, pedro dives right back in for more; eager to clean up the mess he’s made.

your legs struggle to remain open, closing in around his head, as the feeling in your lower stomach builds more intensely. his hands, wrapped firmly around your thighs, hold you down and open for him. breaking contact with your aching slit once more, he speaks softly against your inner thigh, “use your hips baby, take what you need from me.” with a kiss to your warm skin, he resumes his favorite activity.

this time he aims further down, fucking your hole with his skillful tongue. your hips remain still beneath his touch, too focused on keeping a steady breath. but he is clear in his demands; he always is. pressing his nose to your clit, the motion of his work creates the perfect rhythm for an increasing high. tightening your grip on the curls by his neck, you wiggle and grind beneath his face. with every flick of his tongue, every bounce of his nose on your throbbing bud, you’re tugging, pulling at his hair. soft, pleased moans vibrate against you’re wet folds.

“oh god,” you exclaim, “fuckkk,” your words dissolve into a pathetic whimper. he takes this as a sign to go harder. mouth now returning to your clit, he begins to suck, his hand now nearing to join it. two rough fingers slip up and down your opening, acclimating them to your pussy. teasingly slowly and with intentional force, he fills you up just right.

“pedro please,” you huff out in agony. removing his mouth from your wet slit, he looks up to you; pretty as a devil. fingers still working your pussy he speaks, tone low and full of lust, “please... what?” you know the game he’s playing at.

not an ounce of the teasing confidence you earlier tried to possess is left in you as he tires you from the inside out. when you don’t speak quick enough, his rough fingers begin to bend, curling up into you in an assertive manner. 

a frustrated “fuck,” leaves your lips, quivering from the overstimulation. “please,” he watches as your chest rises and falls with heavy, shaky breathes, “i need you...” you know that’s not going to satisfy him to the extent he desires, so you breathlessly continue, “i need you to fuck me.”

fingers slipping out of you with a pop, pedro brings them to your mouth with dark eyes searing into your own. “open,” you oblige with no contest. taking his dripping fingers into your mouth, your tongue licks the mess you’d made of them clean.

with swiftness, he’s at the end of the bed, on his feet before you; eyes never leaving yours. your own, heavy with lust, look hungrily up to him. your shaking fingers find their way to peaked nipples from their place clutching the sheets beneath you. circling your raised peaks you begin to thrust your hips at nothing; eager for the presence of him.

pedro’s hands are at his waistband. rapidly, he undoes his belt with ease. jeans falling to his feet, he wastes no time in fully removing them before he’s grabbing you by the hips to pull you to him. 

adjusting himself to your entrance, he spits on your open, throbbing pussy once more before he slides in with delicious ease. you pull your bottom lip in to stop the whimper that begs to fall from it.

“that’s it baby, atta girl.” one of his hands presses firmly down on your right hip, holding you in place. at the same time, his other hand lingers up to grab ahold of your breast. the room, dim and hot, is filled only with the sounds of skin on skin, of whimpers and moans, of pure, overwhelming pleasure.

his thrusts are steady and deep before he suddenly pulls out, running the tip of his cock firmly against your aching clit. your back arches involuntarily, head digging firmly into the pillow for support. with efficiency, he’s back inside in an instant. 

he’s huddled over on top you now, his chest on yours, craving to be as close to you as he can. as he dips his head into the curve of your neck, hot breathe fans across your skin sending a shiver down your burning hot spine. your rapid pulses and shaky breaths begin to sync as pedro pounds up into your g-spot. your arms go suddenly to grip his shoulder’s for support as he hits it just right.

head still buried in your neck, he leaves sweet kisses behind your ear, nipping at the soft the skin here and there. with his thrusts becoming sloppier and slower he speaks, “you close baby?” your walls clench from his words, your back arching under his weight. “fuck,” he hisses.

“cum for me baby,” he demands before softening his tone, “can you do that?” he slips out slightly before diving deep into you again. hard and fast, he works your body to climax. spasming, inside and out, you begin to whine and cry out. clenching down tight around his cock, you have so much built up energy you simply don’t know what to do with. your nails dig into the toned muscles at the back of his neck as you squirm beneath him. “yeahhh, just like that baby,” he hums, coaxing you through your orgasm.

the pressure in your stomach builds and builds before it collapses like a wave against the shore. gasping for air, your hands caress pedro’s head as he follows right behind you. with a final rough thrust, he’s done for - the tough man that held so much power over you, now a whimpering mess at your will.

“oh fuck baby, fuck,” he whines. 

moments pass, your bodies still entwined as you come down from your shared breathless high. with a kiss to your temple, pedro finally removes his twitching cock from within you. a low and gutural groan escapes him as he slides through your tight walls one final time.

falling to the bed beside you, his arms stay tenderly wrapped around your body. laying there easing your breath, you look around the room. layers of clothing lay scattered about, but the only thing you care to take note of is your new robe tousled on the floor. a lazy smirk creeps onto your flushed face.

pedro, watching over you with admiration, brushes the unruly hair from your face. noticing your gaze fixated on something, he follows it. with a soft chuckle and a tender squeeze to your hip he states into the still calm after the storm, “i’m real glad you got that thing.” he plants a warm kiss to your shoulder. turning to face him, you sink into the depth of his big brown eyes.

“me too,” you hum, blissfully.

[swordgrace]

Okay I know you've already written "vampire eating out reader who's 'on the rag'" (to quote Paul) BUT... Can we have one with Astarion? 😩

𖣊 pairing — astarion x fem!human!reader.

FORMAT: drabble — requested.

WORD COUNT: 3.5K.

WARNINGS: SMUT! (mdni), period sex, bloodplay, blood drinking, oral sex (f!receiving), cunnilingus, praise kink, hair pulling, fingering (f!receiving), dirty talk, semi-public sex, risk of getting caught, unspoken feelings, astarion gives mad head (I don’t make the rules)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Well, here we are, back to my vampire obsession. I’m so addicted to Baldur’s Gate right now that it’s insane. I had so much fun writing this! This is also my first time writing for Astarion, so feedback is definitely appreciated! I’m hoping to write so much more of him! Thank you all for the support! ❤️

A distant, whistling breeze swept across the tall strands of sungrass, rustling against the threadbare canvas of your tent. It was shoddy lodging at best — certainly not a paradise. Gale and Astarion could afford such luxurious accommodations, but you were left to your own devices. You even envied Lae’zel’s tent, and it wasn’t much better than yours.

Crackling waves of dulled pain continued to ripple throughout the pit of your stomach, a familiar tightening and seizing of muscles that left you restless. Sometimes, humanity could be a horrible thing — you were a slave to your own basic bodily functions.

Shadowheart had bluntly broached the subject of menstruation with you earlier in the day — offered you rags to keep yourself clean. It was embarrassing, admittedly — you wanted to try and keep it all discreet.

Being underprepared for this scenario left you flustered and embarrassed, but you were thankful for her assistance, wariness aside.

Your newfound band of parasite-toting compatriots were becoming the closest thing to family that you had, but there were some you trusted more than others. You often regarded Shadowheart with a healthy dose of skepticism, but she’d been helpful enough.

Glittering rays of silvery moonlight struck through the worn spots on your tent, pooling across your form as you tossed yet again, hands folding together atop your stomach. The dying embers of the campfire dissipated out of existence — the world was dormant.

Sleep eluded you, replaced by the toils of your monthly blood moon that frustrated you to no end.

Halsin was generous enough to concoct an herbal poultice that was supposed to help, but one swig of the earthen liquid, and you were spitting it right back out into the dirt. Much to your dismay, you would be left to endure your cycle in its raw state, no remedies.

The gentle ambiance of swaying grass and the buzz of nature at dusk served as your atmosphere, accompanied by your deep breaths and occasional stifled groans. You rolled over, form awkwardly contorted on your side in an attempt to find some relief.

Your evening clothes were made of thistledown and spidersilk, far more comfortable than the linen-sewn rags you’d been trekking in for the last few weeks. It was all courtesy of a fashionable Drow you’d met in a village in the Underdark.

Your gaze fixated on the low, dimmed glow of a flickering lantern situated in your quarters, sitting soundly alongside your backpack. Orange light danced within the colorful glass, producing minuscule refractions that became a worthwhile distraction.

A fluttering of cloth tore your attention away from the luminous object, and you directed your gaze toward the agape flap of your tent.

Two glittering rubies peered down at you, sanguine hues dancing with a peculiar sheen amongst a canvas of smooth, marblesque flesh. The black ties of his silken nightshirt were left unkept, sleeves pulled toward the crooks of his pale elbows.

Astarion’s vampirism was something you’d become intimately acquainted with.

Perhaps it wasn’t your brightest move, letting him feed from you — but you had no qualms or regrets. Beneath the facade of allure and arrogance, Astarion wasn’t all bad. In the many moments you’d shared of allowing him to drink, you’d learned more, little by little.

“Astarion,” You exhaled, wondering why he’d come to you at this particular hour. He’d fed not long ago — from a nearby stag, and not you. He was ethereal beneath the moonlight, all lean and akin to a statue, living perfection as he lingered within the entryway of your tent. “Is everything alright?”

A sardonic huff escaped him, followed by a familiar tilt of his head, ivory curls swaying with his movements. “I could ask you the very same, darling.” He mused. “It seems that you cannot sleep.”

You swallowed the lump within your throat, sitting up enough within your bedroll to face him fully. “No,” You didn’t want to shower Astarion with the grisly details of your womanly cycle. It was of little importance. “Halsin’s awful concoction left a bad taste in my mouth.”

Astarion hummed, senses attuned to you — truthfully, he could smell you from across the camp.

That familiar siren’s song of blood echoed his name — your blood, above all. He wasn’t above lecherous thoughts, especially when it came to the likes of you. His solution to your little problem was unorthodox — Astarion wondered if you would be open to it.

“Was it that mess of an elixir that left you restless, or perhaps something else?” The pale Elf inquired, noticing the little flickers of realization settling into your features. “I have quite the keen sense of smell, you know. Your predicament is rather obvious.”

As your lips fell apart, Astarion chuckled — it was a rich sound, deep from within the confines of his chest. Embarrassment rippled through you, spreading like a wildfire throughout your body. Tendrils of heat crept along the back of your neck.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” You mumbled, chewing at the inside of your cheek. “Is it bothering you?” You hadn’t considered that your blood might’ve had an adverse effect on the vampire spawn, but he dismissed your concerns with a simple wave.

Astarion stepped inside, dropping the burlap flap as it fluttered back into place. His flesh was a beautiful shade, encapsulated by the flickering glow of lantern light as he stood before you. “No,” He clicked his tongue. “I do have a solution to your predicament — with my own assistance, of course.”

Confusion settled into your countenance — Astarion wasn’t necessarily shocked by this, either. You were a delicate little human, a sweet, pious creature that he intended to ravish when opportunity presented itself — such as now.

He drank in your innocence, feeding from your piety as if it were your lifeblood. It was easy to charm you, let you slip into his intricately-spun web of seduction, but in reality, he found himself becoming soft on you.

What a horrid thing — soft on you.

Yet, Astarion couldn’t help himself. Your presence was soothing, providing a warmth that even enveloped his own icy heart. You never asked him for anything — you never used him. He wanted you all the more for it, desired to keep you for himself.

“How could you help me with this?” You questioned, assuming that he had some remedy for you that countered Halsin’s. Anything would do — you were becoming desperate for a solution.

Something shifted in Astarion’s eyes — his gaze became hooded, glazed with some indiscernible notion that caused your stomach to swirl with uncertainty. Your breath hitched within your throat when his cold digits swept across your cheek.

“In a way that I know best,” He crooned, thumb gingerly sweeping along the curve of your jawline. “You would lay back and let me taste you.” Astarion’s suggestion struck you as unorthodox and crude — and you nearly gasped at the insinuation of his words.

“You don’t mean it.” You countered, shivering beneath the icy bite of his embrace. Your flesh felt like scorched earth, blistering with a fever that you couldn’t sweat out — and your remedy, your cure — he stood before you like an ethereal god.

Astarion chuckled, head canting to one side. “I do, darling,” He uttered, voice dropping to a delicious octave that seemed to curl around you like a vice, spreading to parts of you that you never thought possible. “It would be mutually beneficial, I assure you.”

A guttural whimper of sheer want coalesced within the depths of your throat, goosebumps dancing across your spine as you contemplated. It felt so intimate — if you were to go through with it, the lines of your relationship with Astarion would be blurred completely.

The desire for relief and for him outweighed logic, and you exhaled, eyes silently pleading with him for his touch. Astarion was enticed — admittedly, he wanted to taste you, bloodied or not.

“If you are worried about the mess, you needn’t trouble yourself, my sweet.” Astarion mused, pearlescent fangs glinting in the low light. “I will take care of you.” Something about his tone made you shudder, wanting nothing more than to give yourself to him — every fiber, every piece.

His growing fondness for you was becoming increasingly difficult to suppress. He hungered for your blood and he yearned for you — a naive human that he initially cared little for. Now, he was enthralled, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“I’ll let you,” You whispered, voice barely above a shrewd whisper as you watched his expression blossom into one of sheer desire. Those crimson hues raked over you, devouring you without action, leaving you a mess, surrendering to him willingly. “Please.”

“How kind of you,” Astarion hummed, sinking onto his knees as his palm spread across the swell of your hip. “I wonder if you taste just as sweet as you look.” His honeyed purr dripped with a warm reassurance, all wrought with want as he eased you down onto your back.

A fire burned within your belly, demanding to be extinguished as you settled down onto the many layers of a tough leather bedroll and feathered blanket. Astarion loomed like a hungering predator as he slipped between your legs, throat hoarse with the sting of thirst.

His cold hands pried at your silken nightshirt, gingerly lifting the fabric towards your chest as it bunched up just beneath your breasts. A wave of cool, brusque night air licked across your stomach, but the sudden presence of Astarion’s lips made you tense up.

He made sure to touch you — caress your supple frame wherever he could. Despite his one-track mind, Astarion wanted to make you feel good. Those practiced digits of his slipped across your ribcage, dragging down toward your abdomen.

“I’ve dreamed of this, coveted this,” He murmured into your flesh, kissing his way toward your weeping cunt. Nimble digits caressed their way to the waistband of your undergarments, tugging them down and away from your body. “Your sweet flesh, your body beneath mine, crying my name from your lips.”

None of this felt real — your head was spinning, mind deliriously dizzy with a newfound desire. You couldn’t discern if his confession was genuine or simply a ploy to subdue you. Truthfully, you didn’t care either way.

Astarion hummed again, nose brushing along the supple skin of your thigh. “Astarion,” You mewled, unable to keep from saying his name. “I—I …” You babbled, savoring the sensation of his mouth on your skin.

You felt his body quiver with a gentle chuckle as he inhaled a gust of your intoxicating scent. It was your distinct perfume intermingled with that of blood — the twang of coppery menses that he intended on consuming.

Even when prone between your thighs, Astarion exuded a rather domineering aura, icy lips peppering a string of kisses against your inner thigh. He wanted nothing more than to bite — indulge himself in your sanguine ichor. The scent between your legs invited him in, instead.

As crimson wept from your core, the vampiric Elf moved forward, skilled tongue languidly dragging across your aching cunt. He shivered when your cruor fell upon his mouth, a taste of your blood that he so desired.

His palms settled themselves atop your plush hips, hooking underneath your legs. He pressed into your flesh, gripping you tightly as he held you firmly in-place. Astarion could feel the visceral, unrestrained way in which your body reacted to him, twitching and shuddering, thighs flexing.

“How delicious,” Astarion purred, voice dropping to a sultry octave. It stroked every recess of your mind, setting your nerves ablaze, making your stomach churn with a wave of butterflies. “My sweetest pet.” He uttered, licking at any drop of scarlet.

Flushed and flustered, arousal pooled between your legs, intermingled with that of your menses. One of your hands haplessly fisted the feather blanket, the other roaming towards that crown of ivory curls. A low, bemused growl tore past his throat when you gripped his tresses.

If anything, it simply encouraged Astarion, whose greed knew no boundaries. He eagerly lapped at your cunt, tongue tracing across your slit. You felt the little twang of relief that he offered, and you were beyond grateful. You felt the desire to reciprocate — if he let you.

It became increasingly difficult to stifle your pleasured mewls and moans, back beginning to arch slightly off of your bedroll. His continued string of lascivious praise and salacious comments made your flesh turn hot, begging for a release of any kind.

The dull burn within his throat was quelled, soothed by your cruor. Astarion was eager, delighting in your pretty noises and the way your body gave into him. He greedily lapped at the sticky menses trickling from your core, lips twitching into a smirk.

His crown of ivory curls felt like Githyanki silk beneath your fingertips, and for a moment, you peered down — you needed to sate your curiosity.

The mere sight of Astarion, coiled and poised like a lithe predator, wedged between your thighs sent you reeling. He could detect your beseeching gaze, and without pause, those vermilion hues flickered to hold your stare.

Instinctively, your body shivered, goosebumps cascading down the length of your spine. You watched in silent reverence as the broad flat of Astarion’s tongue lapped at your cunt, showering your clit in newfound affection. A stray curl fell across his temples — he was beautiful.

A strangled gasp escaped you, and you fell flat once more, fingers seizing up within his tresses. Astarion’s form rumbled with subtle laughter as he keened forward, mouth suckling on that sensitive clutch of nerves. Your reaction was well worth it.

“Astarion,” You cried, thighs rattling like leaves upon a swaying tree. You wanted to thank him over and over again for this — the tight waves of aching pain had subsided. “Gods, I — Feels so good.” A pleasured moan tore past your lips once more.

A sliver of you feared waking the others, potentially alerting the camp to your nightly accolades. You didn’t want to allow your worry to fester, hips rocking forward when his tongue embraced your cunt once more.

One hand traveled from the curve of your hip to the apex of your thighs, two fingers stroking over your weeping entrance. You gasped, soothed by Astarion’s soft laughter as he lifted his head slightly. “So sensitive.” He purred, lips stained in a glistening layer of crimson. He kissed the inside of your knee.

Heat rolled through you in pleasant waves as pangs of ecstasy gripped you. Seeing Astarion’s bloodied mouth made you shiver, only wanting him to continue, bring you to climax. He sank two digits into your cunt, tongue dutifully returning to lap at your clit.

If you were to perish now, you’d die happy and within the throes of your own ecstasy — with a pale, Elvish deity between your thighs.

You’d wanted him for some time, and to finally drown yourself in his affections — it almost didn’t feel real. The practiced, needy lap of his tongue brought you back to reality, making your hips lurch forward once more. Those digits of his gently pistoned in and out of your cunt, ensuring a level of softness.

Rivulets of your menses coated his fingers, much to his delight. Astarion was relentless, driven in his quest to simultaneously feed and soothe your blood moon pains. His perfectly-timed movements of his fingers worked in-tandem with his mouth, tongue flicking from your clit to your weeping core.

A white-hot pleasure blistered through you, beginning to mount into your encroaching release. Your climax was close, stomach swirling with molten heat, body feeling as if it could simply float away.

“A—Astarion,” You whimpered, desperate to get rid of your nightshirt. The coolness of dusk could not alleviate the pure heat you felt now. A shrill cry left your lips when he withdrew his fingers, simply exchanging them for his tongue as he dragged you closer. “Astarion!”

His name felt like an incantation upon your tongue — it was a sultry, desperate plea for him. The Elf thoroughly reveled in your innocuous cries, wanting to hear you chant his name like a prayer. It felt so genuine, affection intermingled with desire.

Astarion’s gaze lingered on you, chest heaving, flesh glistening with a sheen of perspiration, countenance contorted into sheer ecstasy. There was something rapturous in his eyes — you couldn’t see it, but it was certainly present.

A low hum of approval escaped him when you absentmindedly tugged on his curls again, and he rewarded you with a barrage of his tongue. It was a greedy assault on your cunt as the vampire spawn drank from the source, inhaling a gust of your scent.

“Such a pretty voice, darling,” Astarion uttered, and you soared underneath his reverent praise. You were prepared to burst, body tensing, like a blossom unfurling within the sunlight. “You taste delightful.” He knew what it would do to you — he reveled in it.

You shivered, feeling his nose brush along your thigh as he kissed at the skin there, teeth teasing and grazing along your sensitive flesh. He returned to your core once more, lapping at your oozing cunt with glee — and that seemed to be enough for you.

Everything seemed to spin in circles, head fuzzy and body sinking into sheer bliss. Pleasure washed over you in hot, visceral waves as you were brought to your climax, hips tilting upward as you came.

The coil within your stomach snapped, muscles relaxed — the uncomfortable pain had subsided. Even if the relief would be fleeting, you were beyond grateful to Astarion for assisting you. You came to, flushed and flustered, sitting up enough to see Astarion finishing up.

He emerged from between your legs, tongue languidly lashing across his pearlescent fangs and lips. Speckles of crimson were splattered across his chin, but you nearly collapsed at the sight of him sucking on his fingers.

Whatever mess you made, Astarion had cleaned it all away — he never spilled a drop. “That, ah …” What did you say? “Thank you for doing this, Astarion. I don’t know what else to say.” You confessed.

Astarion chuckled, head canting to one side. “Speechless, are we? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve left someone in such a state.” He crooned, and before he could move to stand, you reached for his arm, coaxing him back.

“Don’t ever feel obligated to do this,” You mumbled, somewhat embarrassed at the sight of your cruor on his chin. Sheepishly, you swiped it away with your thumb — but he caught it. “I feel like I didn’t do anything in return.”

Instead, the pale Elf held your wrist, ruby hues drinking you in, picking you apart. Astarion remained hushed for a moment as he considered his words, lips quirking into an abnormally tender smirk. “You did return the favor, darling. Your blood is tribute enough.”

Your breath hitched within your throat, but you didn’t protest, gaze subtly absorbing his porcelain features. He was gorgeous — you often felt inferior in his presence, shadowed by his timeless beauty. You smiled at him, fingers reaching to squeeze at his hand. The gesture was unexpected for him, but he made no comment.

“Thank you. I do feel better,” You cleared your throat, chewing at the inside of your cheek. “Did you mean what you said, about coveting me and dreaming about this?” For your own peace of mind, you wanted to know where you stood with Astarion.

He should’ve known that you’d ask.

Astarion hummed, neglecting to disclose the truth about how he felt towards you. Part of him was fearful of the implications, of what it could mean — he felt unworthy of you and your piety. “Of course,” He uttered, voice dropping into a more alluring octave. “I would not mind indulging in this again.”

Part of you deflated — intimacy wasn’t the only thing you wanted from Astarion. You wanted his heart. It gave you something to think on, but for now, you were simply content to enjoy his company, lewd or otherwise.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You murmured, visibly sheepish as you glanced back towards your bedroll. “I should try and sleep, I think.” You nearly asked if he wanted to stay with you, but fear and insecurity gripped you in that moment.

“I should hope that your rest is much more productive.” Astarion smirked, pressing a feather-light kiss against your knuckles before rising to his feet. Sharing your bed didn’t seem prudent — for him, it would only make his feelings for you worse.

A soft laugh bubbled forth from your lips before you pulled your clothes back into place, descending onto the feathered blanket. “Goodnight, Astarion.” You exhaled, watching him as he slipped towards the burlap flap of your shoddy tent.

“Rest well, my sweet.” Astarion hummed, and like a shadow, he disappeared into the star-speckled gloom of the night.

[redheadspark]

Hi, this is first time I am asking someone for a story, but your prompts are so fun... Well my request is for Benedict and can you pla make a combo of prompt #2 & #19 (did you know its going to be this hot, write it to confirm 😅) and when its about Benedict it will be fun to read something smuty 😉

Hope I am not being very demanding ... Thanks in advance 💮

A/N - This was great to write, I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for the request!

Distract

Summary - Benedict knows how to distract you, even on a hot day

Warnings - Just fluff and a HINT of steam ;)

“Are you sure all the windows are open, dear?”

“Trust me, darling.  I have every single window open in attempts to give us some relief with the breeze,” 

You hummed, using the fan as much as you could as your husband, Benedict Bridgerton, was working away at his canvas and trying his best to finish the latest piece he was working on for a month.  You loved watching him work, it was a peaceful time when you two would be in his art studio while you would be working on your correspondence and Benedict was painting.  It was what you two would do every Sunday before you would have to start your hectic weekly schedules again. 

You’ve been married to Benedict for almost 5 years now, you two have known each other since you were young and were madly in love with one another in your teens.  Of course, you both had to wait until you both were old enough for Benedict to properly court you, then propose to you.  It was rather silly since you both knew even as early teens that you would be married to each other for all of your lives.  It was also a perk that your families were close friends, both sets of parents were already inwardly planning on your courtship when they saw the spark between the pair of you.  It was safe to say that his mother, the sweet and kind Violet Bridgerton, was beyond happy to gain another daughter in her household and with her name.

You were glad too.

Having a small apartment in the Bridgerton Estate was an immense blessing, having new siblings to get to know and be social with, your own space to share with Benedict, and simply have your time as a wife with him.  He was beyond an amazing husband, making things light in diet times, knowing when to make you laugh when you were sad or simply hold you when you needed physical contact.  You both had flaws, but talking through them together as a team made it all worthwhile.  

But now there was a minor heat wave that came through the area, and even the massive Bridgerton estate would not bring any relief that would help you anytime soon.  

“Did you know it was going to be this hot today?” You asked nonchalantly as you were scanning the stack of envelopes on the desk for you to peer through.

“I wish I did, then we would have planned a better outing,” Benedict answered.  

“Perhaps we should have escaped to the lake, like Kate and Anthony,” you hummed as you looked over another ball invitation while fanning yourself, Benedict chuckling from his spot at his easel while he was drawing a long stripe of blue on the canvas.

“I’d rather be in an audience of their…love for one another,” Benedict replied with a snort, making you giggle as you looked over in his direction.  He was still dressed somewhat formally, you both coming back from a luncheon with your mother-in-law.  His blue coat and undershirt brought out the shine in his eyes and the flushness in his cheeks, making him look even more enchanting than ever.  

Every once in a while you would get lost in his appearance: whether he was working deep on a piece of art and his skin was stained in ink or charcoal, or even when you two were chatting during dinner and he was ranting about a family story.  He had a way with you, a way to make you lose your train of thought or make time stand still.  

“Darling?”

You blinked, seeing that Benedict stopped his painting and was watching you with a hint of concern, “Are you well?”

You smiled and blinked slowly, placing your fan on the desk and resting a hand on your cheek as you tilted your head at him, “More than well, since I get a marvelous view of my husband being a marvelous artist,”

Benedict grinned, the smirk he showed you was enough to make your stomach flip.  You knew that look, something reserved for the pair of you out of the public eye.  He may have Benn posted as a gentleman when it came to his name and how to conduct himself, but it was a different scenario when you two were alone.  He knew how to make you cave from a simple look or sweet talk.  Benedict has always been a flirt, before you got together and then after.  But most of the time you were the object of his flirtations.  

Which you would never object to.

“Just marvelous? Oh, you wound me,” He replied, you ruling your eyes as he continued, “The words I would use for my wife would be far more expressive,”

“Oh would they?” You asked, taking the bait that he was dangling for you.  Benedict could only smile, placing the paint brush on the easel before he walked over towards you.  He went around the desk, his eyes still drilling into yours with a signature smile as his fingers traced along the top of the dress, almost making a mess of your letter pile while he was getting closer to you.  It felt like you were frozen in your spot in the chair, your fan staying still in your hand, Benedict reaching over to take the fan from your hand delicately.

“Divine…exquisite…intelligent….kind….angelic….” He laced every word with love and affection, inching closer and closer to you as he was now perched on the top of the desk, his eyes twinkled in the sunlight and your breath was lost in your throat.  You felt every single one of those words hit you along your chest, making you feel so loved and almost as light as air.  

As soon as he was close enough to have his lips brush against yours, you felt your stomach summersault as he eyed your lips for the briefest of moments.  

“Just to name a few,” He whispered, you eyeing his lips in return as you finally grinned widely at you.

You dived in, kissing him deeply as he was perched over you on the desk.  You both kissed, leaning into each other smoothly and with no hesitation while it felt like you couldn’t get closer than ever before.  This was nothing new for you two, especially when it came to the throws of love.  Benedict was an amazing lover, knowing which buttons to push and where to touch you with both his lips and hands.  There was never a dull moment with your husband when it came to pleasure, and he would surprise you in the best way possible.

“Take off your jacket, the hell?” You huffed against his lips as you reached to push his blue jacket off.  Benedict laughed, kissing you deeply as he threw off the jacket to toss it to the floor you spoke again, “You’re making me hot just by looking at you,”

“Just by my looks?” Benedict asked in a breath, you laughing as he reached to undo a bit of your dress with his nimble and skilled fingers, “I must be lacking then.  Perhaps I should brush up a bit more,”

“Yes you must,” You hummed in return, almost in a growl.  You both let the rest of the world slip away, just like your dress slipping to the floor as well as his trousers.  

That hot day was bearable after all. 

The End

July Prompt Session

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Lips like sugar

Pairing | Sugar Daddy!Tony Stark x Sugar Baby!Fem!Reader

Word count | 2.9K

Summary | Tony has offered to pay your way through medical school if you are his date to the endless events, charity galas, and dinners he's invited to. Tonight is no different, but when everyone at the table finds out you're smarter than you may appear at first sight, Tony can't help but smile at everyone with a smug look, and he'll definitely make your evening worthwhile when you come back.

Warning(s) | Sugar relationship, use of pet names (Sugar, sweet girl), swearing, unspecified age gap | Angst: Mention of the passing of a parent, mention of anxiety | Smut: Daddy kink, oral ~ M receiving, throat fucking, cum swallowing, thigh riding, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!).

A/n | This is my first fic after being absent for a while, so I hope you will all enjoy it! It's a fun one to help me get back into the swing of things, so I hope there'll be more fics from my side from now on! I want to thank @buckys-wintersoldier for helping me with this where you could, and enjoying it while I was writing, it made me very happy to see your reactions! 🩵

A/n 2.0 | I want to give a special thank you to @ccbsrmsf1 for the ideas you gave me, as well as proofreading and drooling along with me; I cannot thank you enough for your love and support! 🩵

Banners: @vase-of-lilies | Divider: @firefly-graphics | GIF credit: the owner

Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | Read on AO3

You're currently getting ready for the dinner Tony is taking you to as his date, and you're pulling out all the stops to ensure you will look drop-dead gorgeous tonight.

From your black pantsuit with a white lace top to the white stiletto heels, which Tony gifted you not too long ago, to your hair and make-up, you ensure every pair of eyes will be on you. Either out of jealousy or adoration, it doesn't matter; all you want is to be shown off by Tony.

''Are you ready to-'' is all he can say as he walks into the bedroom where you're getting ready. He offered to have you get ready at his house, and you would never say no to that.

''Fuck me sideways,'' he mumbles as he takes in your form from head to toe, and you smile widely at him. You bought the outfit not long ago, and this dinner will be the perfect moment to show it off.

''I'd love to, but you never let me,'' you quip at him, and he shakes his head with a big smile.

''Don't get yourself into any trouble, Sugar, or we might not even make it to dinner with you looking like this,'' he says as he straightens the jacket draped over your shoulders.

Even with the heels, you're still not as tall as him, but you're almost at eye level, which is a welcome change for once. At least you won't have a painful neck at night's end.

''Before I forget, I have one more thing to make your outfit complete, as a thank you for joining me. I know it's not much, but nothing will come close to your beauty tonight,'' he says, which makes you blush.

He enters the closet to grab a white Gucci bag and walks over to where you're sitting on the bed, hands on your lap in anticipation. As you look at him, you're fiddling with one of the rings on your left hand, and you have a slight suspicion about what might be in there.

''Here's just a small token of my appreciation, Sugar,'' he says as he hands you the bag, which you carefully take from his hands. Not too long ago, you told him you wanted to get a particular purse from them, but you didn't expect him to gift it like that.

This may be the very nature of your relationship; you receive gifts to join him as his date, but this would just be too much. He already gifted you the Louboutins you're wearing not too long ago and paid your entire tuition for this year.

But then again, you have never been one to look a gifted horse in the mouth, so you put the bag onto the bed next to you before getting the box containing the gift out of it.

''Go on, open it!'' he urges you on as he slides his hands into his pockets, looking at you in anticipation as he leans against the doorframe.

''I- I'm not sure I can accept this, Tony; you've already given me so much, and I am extremely grateful, but after everything you've already done, there's no need to buy more expensive gifts,'' you say, your voice tapering off towards the end of the sentence.

''Alright, listen to me, Sugar,'' he says as he walks over to you and crouches in front of you so you have to look at him.

''I am gifting you this because I want you to have something special, something you have been dreaming of for a long time. I know I don't have to gift you expensive things, but I do it because I want to spoil my sweet girl, alright?'' he tells you, his large hands resting on your knees.

''Okay,'' you say softly, and he gives you a small kiss on your forehead as he stands up. You close your eyes as he turns around, and a warm feeling settles in your stomach. You can never get enough of him, in whichever way that may be.

You open the box, and inside lay an off-white dustbag with the Gucci logo. You carefully slip it off the bag he bought you. Inside is the Dionysus Python shoulder bag, or the bag you've dreamt of for the longest time.

''Please tell me this isn't some joke?'' you ask Tony, your voice breaking near the end of the sentence. You have dreamt of this bag with your Mom before she passed away, and it feels unreal to have it in your hands. However, you can't show it off to her anymore.

''It's not a joke, Sugar, it is all yours. I know you have dreamt of this bag for the longest time with her, and even though she might not be around to see it, I know she would want you to have it,'' he tells you.

He took his place on your left, and you looked at him with tears in your eyes.

''One day I'll own that bag, Mom, and we will both use the crap out of it, so it'll be worth the price!'' you told her a few years ago, and you both laughed about it then. But now, you'd give anything to hear her laugh one more time.

Your eyes fluttered close as a single tear escaped the corner of your eye, and in an instant, you felt Tony's thumb wiping it with the softest of touches, something you've rarely felt before.

It's not something Tony's ever felt before, either. He has felt your soft, warm skin against his many times by now, but this seems more intimate than all those moments combined. What he feels could even be considered to be love, though he's not sure he's ready to give in to that feeling yet.

You open your eyes to look at Tony, and he gives you a reassuring smile before his hand finds its place on your cheek, pulling you closer to him. You place your hand over the arc reactor in the middle of his chest, your long, black nails matching his suit perfectly.

He places a soft, tender kiss on your lips, pouring every ounce of love into it. Your eyes are shut again, and feeling his plump, pink lips on yours has your mind reeling. You already know you can't get through this evening without telling him how you feel.

The kiss isn't rushed or heated, but it's perfect.

When he pulls away, your eyes shoot open to look into his deep, dark brown ones, and a small smile appears on your lips. It is official: you have fallen head over heels in love with this man in front of you.

Your plan to impress everyone at the dinner has worked because every man can't stop looking out of pure lust, and every woman is watching you with nothing but envy. And Tony? He is, of course, proud as a peacock to have you by his side.

''Here you go, Sugar,'' Tony says as he pulls back your chair, and you take your place as he scoots it in for you. After he's taken his place next to yours, you look over the menu before you, noting everything that'll be served tonight.

''So, you and Stark, huh?'' an older woman across from you asks. You have never seen her before, but based on how she phrased the question, you know you won't like what she has to say.

''Yes, I'm here with Tony tonight,'' you tell her, and you give her a polite smile before turning your head back to him to see what he's talking about.

''Aren't you a little too... young... to be here with him?'' she then asks, and with a small sigh, you turn your head back to her, and you try to tell her in the nicest way possible that she can fuck off to where she came from.

''Ma'am, Tony has asked me to join him this evening because we support each other unconditionally. Tonight is an important evening for him, and I plan to support him in every way possible, and all I can hope is that you and everyone else at this table do the same,'' you tell her.

You didn't notice Tony turning his head because he heard his name twice in less than a minute, but as soon as he listened to what was going on, he couldn't stop the smug smile from appearing.

''Let it go, Sugar, she's just jealous,'' he whispers in your ear, and you nod in response. The next thirty minutes go on without a hitch, though you constantly feel her watching your every move.

''Ma'am, is there something I have done to offend you in any way? Because I am just trying to enjoy a nice dinner and some conversation, but your gaze makes me very uncomfortable,'' you say, most definitely getting annoyed now.

''Okay, let's step outside for a minute, Sugar,'' Tony tells you in a stern yet calm tone, and you do as he says, the woman still following your every move as Tony puts his hand on your lower back.

''I can't fucking believe people sometimes,'' you say as you light the cigarette, you fished out of your purse. You don't smoke often, but when your anxiety gets especially bad, it is a way for you to calm yourself down.

''It's okay, Sugar, she's just jealous of you. She's jealous that I have my sweet girl by my side on a night like this, and honestly, I can't blame her,'' he tells you, but you shake your head in response.

''It's not that, Tony, she's not jealous; she's judging me. She's judging me because of the way I look and the fact that I am here by your side while everyone knows you're single, and fucking everything that moves doesn't help. She is not stupid, but I'm sure she thinks I am,'' you say with defeat.

''I don't fuck-'' he mumbles, but you hold up a finger because you're not done talking yet.

''What do you think, shall I put her in her place when I return? Make it clear once and for all that I'm here because I want to be and not because you paid me to be?'' you say, a twinkle in your eyes.

''Sugar-'' is all he can say because you finish the last cigarette before putting it in the designated ashtray outside, and you walk back in, ready to set the record straight once and for all.

''Listen to me. Tony may have given me a gift for coming here with him tonight, but I would have been here with him without it, too. I know you think I'm some ''gold digger'' or something like that, but I'm not,'' you say as you lean closer to the woman, ensuring she hears every last word.

''Yes, I am fucking him because he will pay my tuition for med school if I do, but I'll be damned if I get judged around here for doing that. At least I am learning to become a surgeon and do something useful with my life. And if I choose to fuck the man I am in love with, in return for a degree, that is my business, and most definitely not yours!'' you tell her, leaving everyone at the dinner table stunned.

You turn around on your heel before walking out of the venue, ready to leave and go home. You're sick of people judging your every move, and it feels good that you took the chance to set the record straight once and for all.

''Fuck, you looked so hot when you defended yourself, Sugar. Can't believe I'm about to rail a badass like yourself in a few minutes,'' Tony says as he frantically tears off his clothes, and you're doing the same with your own.

''It felt so good! I can't believe I've never done it before, but I am glad I did it now,'' you tell him, the adrenaline still pumping through your veins.

''Get on the bed, and I'll make you feel something you've never felt before,'' you tell him, and he quickly obeys you. If there's ever a moment he doesn't want to get in your way, it's now, and he would be stupid to go against your orders.

As soon as he found his place on the bed, you spread his thighs so you could fit between them, his long, veiny cock laying rock hard and throbbing against his stomach.

''Look at you, Daddy, already so hard for me,'' you say as you wrap your hand loosely around his base, and your tongue gives tiny kitten licks onto his tip.

He throbs in anticipation as he hears you call him Daddy because he definitely enjoys it. You don't wait long before you take him into your mouth, though, making him groan deeply from pure pleasure.

''Doin' so well for me, Sugar,'' he tells you as his hands thread into your hair, pulling slightly as he starts thrusting into your mouth and throat, hitting your gag reflex each time.

The fact that you're gagging and drooling all over his cock and balls only turns him on more, so he plants his feet firmly onto the mattress before fucking your throat in earnest, and it doesn't take long for him to cum in your mouth, forcing you to swallow every last drop.

''Fuck, look at you, Sugar, such a good girl for Daddy,'' he says as he pulls you up carefully, kissing you roughly once you're straddling his lap. He can still taste himself on your tongue, making him go crazy.

You two stay like that for a little while, having a rough make-out session that slowly turns into slower, softer kisses where you each take your time exploring each other's mouths and enjoy each other's touches all over your bodies.

Tonight is the first time it has felt this intimate, despite you two having fucked each other's brains out countless times. But then again, there is a big difference between that and making love.

Tonight will be the first time you will make love to one another; you don't know it yet.

Tony has moved to sit up against the headboard, and his now hard cock is trapped between your bodies as you grind on his thigh, your orgasm creeping closer by the second.

His hands are splayed on your ass, helping you move over his thigh, your head laying on his shoulder as soft whimpers and moans leave your throat.

''I-I'm close, Daddy!'' you bring out as he flexes his thigh, giving you exactly what you need to get closer to the edge. It's still not enough to push you over, though, and you're getting desperate at this point.

''Daddy, please! Want your fingers...'' you say as you lift your head, brows knitted together as you keep grinding on him, getting more and more desperate for your release.

''Alright, Sugar, because you're asking so nicely,'' he says as his fingers trail over your inner thigh to where you need him most. His thumb comes into contact with your clit, and he makes small, tight circles, which hurdles you over that sweet edge with a loud moan of his name.

''Can't wait to fill you up, Sugar,'' he says as you reposition yourself over him, his tip getting caught on your entrance as he swipes through your folds, ready to feel you stretch around him.

''Daddy!'' you moan as you first sink onto him, the stretch being something you'll never want to get used to. It feels so good, and it has you throwing your head back from pure pleasure.

Once he's buried to the hilt, you stay there for a few minutes as you adjust, and it's at that moment that Tony can't keep his thoughts to himself anymore.

''Sugar, can you look at me for a second?'' he says, his hands finding their place on your face as yours rest on his chest, each on one side of his arc reactor.

''I've been thinking about this for a while, and I want you to know that I have fallen for you, Sugar. I have fallen deeply in love with you, and there's no chance I'm ever letting you go after this,'' he tells you as he looks into your eyes.

''I will most definitely still spoil you the way I did before, but I don't want you to be my sugar baby anymore. Because that doesn't even come close to describing what you are. You're amazing, smart, sweet, caring, and most of all, you're a good girl, my girl,'' he says, and the way he tells you that has your heart bursting from pure love.

''I- I'm in love with you too, Tony,'' you say before leaning forward, and you give him a soft kiss on his nose. ''I love your slightly crooked nose, deep brown eyes, every inch of your body, heart, and soul... I'm trying to say that I love you, Tony.''

He captures your lips in a passionate, slow kiss that you can't help but smile into. Your dream of finally becoming his has come true, and you couldn't be happier.

''Does that- Are you my... my boyfriend?'' you ask, still unsure.

''Only if you want me to be, Sugar, but only until I ask you to marry me, and after, I promise to be the best husband I can ever be for the rest of our lives,'' he tells you, and he seals the promise with a kiss.

The rest of the night, you two make love to each other while never losing eye contact or letting go of each other's hands.

Tony may not be used to loving someone as deeply as he loves you, but you will be there every step of the way to show him how loved he is and how much you love him.

[sixosix]

hiii i fear tumblr may have ate my ask so i'll say it again just in case--if not im so sorry please ignore this i don't mean to rush you or anything :')

wanderer, candy(does that count?), fluff!! :D

(oh oh also can i be 🪐anon/saturn anon? if not thats fine! i just thought i'd ask since i think i've been sending asks consistently enough to identify myself ^^)

notes wc 800; HII your ask wasnt eaten, i was just taking a long time writing the requests LMFAO. of course u can be saturn anon!!! welcome welcome to the blog (this ask was sent a month ago and i am very much late. idek if anon is still active here…) tbh i wrote this and just went with the flow HAHA

5K EVENT SPECIAL | EVENT MASTERLIST

You unceremoniously dump the pile of imported goods on the table, causing quite a scene in the silence of the House of Daena. They scattered about, and some even clattered onto the floor. You grinned proudly at your friends’ dumbfounded stares.

Tighnari was the first to speak. “I’m assuming you had fun on your vacation in Inazuma?”

“Do you even have money left?” Alhaitham asked, quite incredulously. The most emotion you’ve seen from this month.

It took you a moment to respond, and you felt momentarily distracted by the strange sensation of being watched. “Well, no,” you said eventually. “But I bought all this for you guys! Be more grateful, will you?”

Kaveh clapped his hands. “This is incredible! I haven’t gotten the chance to try any of these local delicacies from Inazuma!”

You nodded approvingly. See? Was that so hard? “Yes, I know. Aren’t I such a good friend? You’re welcome, all of you.”

Belatedly, they mutter their thanks.

You went on a tangent, reciting the food sales pitch you memorized from the sellers, feeling remarkably intelligent. They didn’t have to know that, half the time, you were the personification of a lost tourist/foreigner/idiot in Inazuma and just decided to play it safe and keep most of the souvenirs as food.

They segregated their wanted share and thanked you again. They left you some of the candy, which you had no qualms about eating for yourself. As you all fell into the lull of a conversation, the feeling worsened, and you’ve had enough.

You turned to your friends. “He’s been staring at me for about 30 minutes now…”

They each cast their discreet glances.

“Are you scared?” Kaveh asked worriedly.

“Look at that look in his eye!” you said. “I’ve seen that same look in Rishboland Tigers!”

“He’s not going to eat you,” Tighnari sighed. Well, he wouldn’t know that. Only Alhaitham has met Hat Guy, and he seemed to be amused instead.

“Violence is not permitted in the Akademiya grounds,” Cyno said seriously.

“Maybe it’s not you he’s looking at…?” Tighnari tried.

“Cyno, switch with me,” you ordered.

Wordlessly, he obeyed. The group watched in disbelief as Hat Guy’s gaze simply moved to where you sat next. He wasn’t even trying to hide it.

“Maybe he’s interested because it’s a candy imported from Inazuma,” Cyno supplied thoughtfully.

“That’s a good point. I’m surprised you didn’t make a p—”

“Don’t you mean—” Cyno held up the box that displayed the Inazuman Electro symbol on the front, “shocked?”

You hung your head. You spoke too soon. “OK.”

Tighnari watched your face for a long moment, but it didn’t feel as charged as the guy sitting a few tables away. “You don’t seem to hate the attention,” he concluded at the sight your giddy smile.

“No, I really don’t,” you admitted sheepishly. “He’s smart, and he’s handsome. Of course I’m interested. I just wish he would be a bit more normal about his flirting—if he’s even flirting. Should I give him some?”

You didn’t wait for an answer as your chair scraped backward and you faced Hat Guy directly.

“Make sure it’s just the candy you’re giving!” Kaveh called out.

“I see that Sparks are flying,” Cyno said.

Walking over while you held his gaze was excessively awkward, but it was worthwhile seeing Hat Guy’s little smirk grow like he was pleased you were taking his challenge. It was a bit of a problem, however, that he was undeniably attractive. If he was cute from afar, he was drop-dead gorgeous up close.

“Y/N,” you said, in place of a greeting.

“They call me Hat Guy,” he mused. “Those from Inazuma?”

“Yes.” Suddenly embarrassed that the bullshit you were spewing was picked up on by the guy who everyone was pretty sure was born in Inazuma. “Did you hear me?”

Hat Guy shrugged, plucking one candy from the pile on your hands. “You did pretty well. But I only have one criticism, and I can tell you bought most of them from the same place.”

Ah, you did do that. He tore off the plastic and popped it into his mouth, expression turning sour. “The best ones come from the locals. You should’ve asked the kids,” he advised.

Mouth dry, you said, “Yeah, I should’ve.”

Everyone told you that the mysterious new student—Hat Guy, you now learned—was prickly and slips off when someone approaches him. His birthday was apparently a very thrilling event—in the case that everyone had to hunt him down to give him his cake.

“Want a tip?” he asked, head tilted and looking entirely pretty. His tongue rolled around as he ate his—your candy.

“You seem to know best.”

“Take me with you next time.”

[stxneflxwers]

stormfront.

⋯⁂ Summary: watching storms from the safety of your own home can be relaxing, but getting stuck in one when in the middle of nowhere doesn’t have many benefits… but with him, he has that chance to make it worthwhile…or worthless.

⋯⁂ a/n: ty to my bbg for providing this idea. it was very fun to write! enjoy!

⋯⁂ w.c: 411 (albedo). 500 (neuvillette). 618 (freminet). 559 (cyno).

⋯⁂ characters: albedo. neuvillette. freminet. cyno. gn reader.

⋯⁂ cw: storms: snowstorm (albedo), thunderstorm (neuvillette, freminet), sandstorm (cyno.) forced close proximity (all). pre-relationship (all). hurt/comfort (neuvillette + freminet). reader is an adventurer, reader gets injured (neuvillette). confessions, one forehead kiss, hugging (freminet). cyno + reader are coworkers. puns, kissing (cyno).

Albedo

⋯⁂ Snowstorms are something Albedo has long since adjusted to. Hiking Dragonspine often forces you to always be on your toes—lest you get caught up in an avalanche or snowstorm. Like right now! Thankfully, before anything worse could happen, he pulled you right into a small cave.

⋯⁂ But now… Your face is burning with embarrassment and anxiety with how close he's forced to stand next to you. Yet his face is only written with concern for your safety. And a light shade of curiosity.

⋯⁂ "Are you alright?" He asks with a soft murmur, your name sounds so sweet on his tongue.

"Uhm, uh— mhm!" You would nod if there was enough space, but there's so little of it that you might knock your head into his. "Super great, Bedo." You mutter bashfully, eyes darting away as you nibble on your bottom lip.

He notices this quicker than you like, and even brings it to light, "Are you sure? You look very nervous." He points out, completely oblivious.

"Ah, Bedo…" You laugh awkwardly.

"Yes?" He queries, enraptured by your bashful state.

"Are all boys this dumb…?" You whisper to yourself.

He hears that but says nothing. Instead, he ponders upon it, wondering what it could mean… Is he as dumb as you think he is? Hardly. He knows for a fact that he's…not dumb, at the very least. So, what is he missing? Socializing is very tough for him, but you normally don't pose much of a threat or trouble. So, this behavior is all very…new.

⋯⁂ He tests out a new…"experiment", his head suddenly landing on your shoulder as if he feels tired. You gasp, your face growing even hotter, leagues more than before. You give him a stiff pat on the back.

"A-Are you tired?" You mutter, voice now smaller.

"A bit." He tries to lie through his teeth. It works, somehow.

"Alright, well…" You sputter, "…I can't help with that, sorry." You quickly give in.

"All is well." He sighs, finding your shoulder a rather comfortable place to be. So, he doesn't even think about moving.

Soon enough, you relax—your shoulder that acts as Albedo's pillow eases up, becoming more comfortable and softer. While you keep an eye on the snowstorm that rages on next to you, he rests a little… He can't help but be lulled into dreamland by your warmth and softness.

…He's going to have to run extra tests on this at a later time.

Neuvillette

⋯⁂ Today has been a rough day for you both. It feels like it's one thing after another in quick succession—much quicker than for either of your or his comfort. But he seems a lot more adjusted to it than you… Keyword: seems. In actuality, he doesn't let you know how the wear and tear on his heart is ripping him apart bit by bit.

⋯⁂ You had specifically requested his help with some…"negotiations." After much convincing, he caved in. Even at first, he didn't want to keep saying no to your begging face. Now? He's relieved he gave in to your pleas for help, or else you might be worse for wear right now.

⋯⁂ Snug in his arms, your weak and cold body shivers in his grasp while he charges through the powerful storm. For once, he wonders if the storm is his own doing or not this time. It most likely is—only causing him to feel even more regret for not being there for you in time. When he saw you on your side curled up on the ground, after getting knocked down by the enemy while he was distracted by the other… That's when the storm began to brew.

⋯⁂ He then finally finds a small cave, right as thunder cracks and lightning strikes all around. On a split-second decision, he tucks you and himself away in the rather cramped opening. Right now, it's better than risking getting struck by lightning.

⋯⁂ His grasp on you tightens a little bit as he whispers an apology, cooing your name sweetly as if you had just died. You weren't dead, for the record. Cold, wet, weak; sure, but not dead. And you weren't dying any time soon, either…

When you finally wake up, you're immediately met with the sad lilac eyes that belong to him. You let out a soft, "Huh…?" in response to his depressed figure.

"Neuvi…" He'll never get tired of hearing that cute little nickname you gave him so long ago, "Wh-what's wrong…?" You sputter out, voice as weak as the rest of your body.

"Nothing." He says a little too firmly. You don't fall for his poor attempt at a facade.

"There's something wrong, silly…" You mutter, barely managing to shift your body enough to rest fully against his chest. "You can tell me, y'know…?" You sigh when your cheek meets his surprisingly warm chest.

"I…" He starts, eyes laden with the fatigue from his own heavy thoughts. "I should've been there for you sooner…" He confesses, his body drooping in response, but never once does he let up on holding you tighter than before. "I know how fragile humans are… What if you—"

"No what ifs, silly Neuvi. I'm here now, aren't I? All thanks to you." You smile, like the solitary sun in his dark, cloudy mind. "…Be kinder to yourself." You allow your eyes to flutter shut, curling up against him for more warmth.

And when he smiles back, the rain begins to finally lighten.

Freminet

⋯⁂ Today was meant to be such a sunny day—no rain, no thunder, and surely no lightning. That's what Freminet read in the forecast this morning, at least. Low chance of precipitation, decent humidity, and sunny skies with little to no clouds… Good weather all around. He didn't always trust the weather forecast and today has only solidified the idea that he should never trust it.

⋯⁂ The thunderstorm chases you both out of the scenic waters of Fontaine—the sky now painted with dark clouds and heavy rain. You both know better than to swim out in the lake when there's lightning. Who knows what could happen if you stick around…

⋯⁂ He sighs, standing at the shore of the lake—his frustrated tears threatening to spill and mix with the rain that dribbles down his freckled face. He calls out, "Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don't cry!" He pleas, knowing that it's all fruitless only serves to make him even more upset. Sure, he's all grown up now, but he can't help but cling to that remaining shred of hope.

⋯⁂ You're the one who has to drag him away from the shores, your hands tight around his shoulders as you both charge away. Spotting a small opening in a cliff, you pull him into it and grant him a warm embrace. You rub his back—squeezing him as well to help him come back down to earth. In the past, you noticed that having some pressure on his body helps his emotional spikes settle down.

⋯⁂ He sighs, his body drooping, relaxing from your snug hold. His own hands wander, sliding up your back and clutching the back of your shirt. His forehead finds a comfortable spot on your shoulder, allowing himself to finish crying from the frustrating event.

"I'm sorry… The weather isn't always this bad, I swear…" He mutters to you.

"It's okay, Freminet, you can't predict the weather every time, you know?" You smile serenely, even if he can't see it. But, he can feel it—he can see that sweet grin in his head. It brings him so much relief that he feels a little sleepy.

"A-Alright… Let's…let's try again some other time…?" He sputters out, finally lifting his head to look at you in the eyes—a gesture he still struggles with. His eyes dart away at first before he manages to force himself to lock gazes with you.

"I'd be more than happy to." You nod, giving him a brief squeeze that makes him squeak. You giggle, "So cute—"

"I love you."

He blurts this out, his mouth hanging agape for a solid moment or two as if he hasn't realized what he just said. When it dawns on him, he blushes furiously and his hands fly to his face, covering his burning cheeks.

You break out into a fit of giggles. His heart sinks. Are you laughing at him? He wonders how pathetic he is to you for saying something so nonsensical—even if it's true.

"I love you too, Fremi." You grin, your own cheeks heating up several degrees higher. You press a sweet, chaste kiss against his forehead, the only accessible place on his face right now. "My cute little dove…" You coo, pulling his hands away to get a better look at his flustered expression.

His eyes are shut tight and his lips thinner from his even tighter frown. When he registers your reciprocation, he gasps. His eyes fly wide open and his mouth parts slightly.

"I… I…" He mutters, unable to look away from you.

"Shhh… It's okay…" You pull him into another hug, keeping him warm.

He is so loved and cared for. And one day you hope he can see that, too.

Cyno

⋯⁂ You're coworkers, very close ones. Yes, this means you—on occasion—go do your duties together. This, sometimes, can be downright insufferable. You love the weirdo, you really do. But either he's taking things too seriously or too lightly… You swear his brain has no gauge—it's a pendulum instead.

⋯⁂ Today was more frustrating than usual, though. Your shared target consistently gets away from both of you—dragging out this mission a lot longer than it needs to be. Cyno hasn't talked much, either. You repeatedly wonder if he's starting to hate you—or maybe he's as frustrated as you are. But, then again, what if he's frustrated with you in particular? You're not sure how well you’re doing your job right now. These thoughts flood your mind again and again.

⋯⁂ At some point, you get thrown into the desert landscape alongside the General. The fresh footsteps led here, so now where's the culprit? There's no sight of the criminal anywhere—making Cyno hiss under his breath. He says you two should search a little further, you comply with a quiet nod.

⋯⁂ Even after much searching, you feel inclined to give in for the day. But, you know Cyno, he never gives in to crime no matter what. He's stubborn as a mule with…just about everything he does. Bad jokes included. Then, with no warning, he grabs your hand and storms away into a small cave. Right as you enter, you see a sandstorm kick up right outside. You groan.

⋯⁂ "Sorry, I haven't been my best today…" You sigh, eyes laden with self-disappointment as you lean back against the stony wall.

"No worries." He assures you, and he doesn't even sound remotely irritated, either. "It is Windsday after all." He says, his face as serious as his rather monotone voice.

"What does Wednesday have to do with anything…?" You ask, sparing him a confused look that has your mouth parting a little.

"Oh, you don't get it." He blinks, shrugging, "A sandstorm's favorite day is Windsday. Wednesday. Windsday." He clarifies with the utter lack of expression.

"…" You stay silent for a moment before pinching the bridge of your nose and groaning. "Thank you, Cyno, very funny." You smile at him, it's the best you can give him right now. It is a funny joke, but you're so frustrated with yourself and the world right now that it hardly means anything.

"I agree." He nods; you can see a twinkle of pride in his red eyes, "I will tell more to pass the time." He affirms, already dead-set on entertaining you.

"Oh boy…" You whisper to yourself, but let him have his way anyway.

You smile with every passing joke he comes up with—you're not sure where he's pulling most of these from, but he's a little too good at it…

As the storm rages on and he's told probably a hundred jokes by now, you throw your hands up in the air at the peak of your frustration. You grab his face and smash your lips against his, causing him to gasp and his eyes to blow wide. You let go of him, a proud smirk on your face.

"Want to know how flowers kiss?" You grin, "With their tulips!" You answer before he can even register the kiss.

When he does, he lets out the loudest, ugliest laugh you've ever seen from him.

[skele-bunny]

NOO THE POLL IS WRONG PLEASE POST THE ZEPHRIT PLEASEE :((!!!! PLEASE PLEASE

OH MY GOSH OKAY 😭 THERES LIKE.. SO MANY OF YOU IN MY INBOX RN. AND MY DMS. AND WKKWKSJ???!!! (Small tag for @sister-nyx , @everybodyshusband , @hypnoneghoul , and @artificialmoth I know y'all were also interested) is this impractical? Ye. But it's fun to me

College AU — Zephrit

Warning: It's professor/student in this but everyone is consenting adults

Cw: Internalized Homophobia, Pet Play, Master/Pet dynamic, Power Imbalance

Ifrit at college on a sports scholarship, but he's recommended to have extra credits to keep his GPA up, so he takes a German language class. Mr. Zephyr Luft, this cold, no nonsense professor who has a reputation for kicking people out even for little things. So take Ifrit who's now suddenly the bane of their existence.

Snarky comments, not doing any work always with the excuse of "This is only extra. I don't need this course." And he's gotten so many academic write ups, even to the point of Mr. Luft talking to the sports director. Nothing. So, they take it into their own hands. Requesting Ifrit to stay after class one day, and he obviously automatically assumes he'll be getting "the talk" of why it's important to do work and that he'll be getting another deduction.

Zephyr waits until the final student closes their door before beckoning Ifrit near, getting up and walking around with their cane as they do, indeed, babble about how Ifrit will be getting a deduction. But also...

"I can tell you were never properly raised, Gör. Such a nasty tongue you own."

"Whatever you say, old man."

There's a sigh before Ifrit can only gasp as a hard wack goes to his ass, turning around and seeing Zeph slowly put their cane back and stare.

"Did you just—?!"

"Well, obviously. Do you feel like speaking with manners yet?"

Ifrit just scoffs, "I'll have your job you fucking pervert."

A simple shrug. "Then I guess I need to make my worthwhile."

Now, Ifrit's strong. Works out a lot. He's taller than them! So he doesn't understand how this older, shorter person that relies on mobility aids had the ability to slam him back over the desk and keep him pinned while caning his ass more and more.

Finally had enough and letting Ifrit drop, face a dark red, fists clenched. Zephyr is just as calm as ever, not even paying attention to Ifrit anymore as they return to their desk and mumble that administration is in a different building upstairs. Ifrit sniffles a bit before quickly getting up, grabbing his bag, and high tailing it out of there.

He's so fucking humiliated! He's a grown ass man who could've overpowered them! His own damn professor!! Who do they think they are?! Slams out of the building and to his car, wincing as he sits down and stares at the admin building Zephyr mentioned. He has all reason to go there. To report what was done to him... But... That would mean they'd have to see. They'd have to know that Ifrit was too weak and too much of a pussy to defend himself from some old guy. Swallows his shame and instead, just goes home early. Looking at his bruised ass in the mirror, cane welts very obvious.

It's in the shower where he massages the pain, his dick slowly getting hard and he just chalks it up to the water. Nothing else. Nothing else is in his mind as he released down the shower drain. Don't realize the pattern as every time he has Mr. Luft's class the rest of the week how he'll massage and jerk off again. And again. The memories of being bent over and used and... And... And that cold stare that he starts imagining watching him, demanding perfect satisfaction as Ifrit masturbates in front of them. Then slowly changing to that cane dragging between his thighs and making him rut against it.

He feels sick the first time he imagines one of his one-night stands as that same old asshole.

Staring at himself in the mirror, turmoil bubbling. He's not gay. He's never been gay. He loves women and pussy and tits, and so much. This must be his nerves, is all. Some kinda trauma thing maybe? But even still, he notices how his attraction has slowly shifted. They must be the exception. Attracted to a single amab body, that's it. That's all it is. But he craves it. Wants to feel that helpless again. Wants to feel his body pinned down and where he's not the one in control...

And Mr. Luft can do that.

Packs so slowly one day after class, waits until it's just them when he approaches their desk. Zephyr humming and asking if Ifrit's reported them yet.

"No... I just, uh," There's shame and embarrassment Zephyr instantly picks up on. "Would you... Would you do that again? To me?"

"Spank you?"

"Yeah..."

They stare at each other before Zephyr just laughs a bit, worsening Ifrit's shame. But, "You poor thing. Just a stray dog looking for warmth, aren't you?"

He just nods, keeping his eyes down but can see Zephyr lean back in their chair. "No need to whine, hund. I can take you home with me if you'd like. Give you what you want."

Ifrit nods, and the rest is history.

Given directions to Zephyr's home after classes are finished, Ifrit knocking with hesitation. Brought in and led to the bathroom, listening to Zephyr make demands of how Ifrit is to shower, to attempt to finger himself for the first time, and lay on Zeph's bed nude. He does as he's told, albeit questioning himself more and more. This is some freaky shit he's getting into, isn't it?

But oh... Oh it's worth it. Explained how it's not Mr. Luft in the bedroom, only Zephyr or even Master. That he must say thank you to everything given to him, even punishments. He didn't realize how much he missed that cane against his ass now with hands as well once they start. Who gets his ass eaten for the first time and cums from it. Sucks cock and fingers Zeph for them to ride him. The degradation and that sharpness on their tongue like always. Sometimes speaking it in German, Ifrit can't understand, but he can feel the tone and just whines from it.

He stays over, tucked into Zephyr's arm as they come down from their bliss. More internalized hatred bubbling in his mind but it always seems to mute when he focuses on Zephyr's heartbeat. How he hates having to leave, but Zeph assures that all Ifrit has to do is ask and their home is open to stray dogs.

Ifrit takes that offer.

Finding himself on his knees just about every other day for them, listening to commands and being dominated. Taking on his role of a dog, desperate for that love and care in the form of heavy hands and instructions. Finally, a simple collar around his neck. So many new things he's exposed to and he loves each and every one of them. How German lessons follow into the home, Ifrit bent over and spanked with either a ruler or their cane for every thing he mispronounces.

Finds himself with no interest in the opposite gender as he's come to terms of what he's attracted to, just how much Zephyr has opened his mind and what he enjoys. Learning so much about himself in the process. Not only does his grade drastically improve, but so does his mental health. Finds more confidence, a new release as he doesn't have to think with Zephyr. Just has to be a good dog and listen to what he's told to do. What's he's trained to do.

Always lingering in their classroom, spending lunches with them and his free time. Their relationship developing so much they officially start dating privately, and to the point Ifrit moves in with them out of his dingy apartment. They keep everything quiet, out of respect for each other and also Zephyr's job. Everyone thinks they finally had a meet God moment, as they've become different people basically. Even Zeph watching some of Ifrit's games and practices, that cold stare no longer being of distain but craving.

Just a loyal dog as ever.

[ghoulsbounty]

OMG IM SO EXCITED TO FIND SOMEONE WHO’LL WRITE BOYD CROWDER.

Can I request some fluff about going to sleep with Boyd (like actually sleeping lol), like him and the reader have a fun and flirty relationship and she knows about his criminal enterprises (S4 vibes with the pocket watch UGH). Maybe he comes home late or something and is just all over the reader but not in a sexual way, just like a missing and wanting to be close to her way.

Out Of Time

Boyd Crowder x GN!Reader

Warnings: slight spoilers for season 4, a little angst if you squint but just pure comfort and fluff (Boyd is in love)

Word Count: 2K

A/N: Anon, thank you for my first Boyd request and simultaneously igniting a burning passion within me to write more for this man. I kept the reader GN because there wasn't really any need for gender descriptors, and yes I did make that gif just for this fic 🫡 I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

Boyd sat silently on the edge of the bed, his gaze lingering on your tranquil, sleeping form. The mattress creaked softly under his weight, causing your steady breathing to hitch momentarily before settling back into a gentle rhythm. He brushed his fingers across your cheek, a surge of longing filling his heart. He had missed you. Those brief moments in the mornings, stolen before you left for work or he had to attend to his business, were never enough. Yet, he cherished every fleeting second, treasuring these quiet moments when he could simply watch over you.

He knew you held no resentment towards him, not even when he returned home later than promised, body weary and mind burdened by his actions, like tonight, and countless other nights. He understood that you wouldn't pry, wouldn't demand every detail of his whereabouts, because that wasn't your way, and for that, he was deeply grateful. It meant you could stay just a little bit safer. You never asked for more than he could offer, only requesting that he come back to you when he could, to reassure you of his presence, to let you know he was still breathing.

Of course, he would. He'd move heaven and earth, and blow the top off that damn mountain just to fulfil his promise to you. No matter the challenges, he would find his way back to you, and you'd greet him with open arms, washing away his sins and soothing his wounds with tender kisses. You'd offer him everything a man like him could ever desire, and he knew deep down he never deserved it.

He didn't allow himself to linger on the thought of not being worthy of you. You'd never insinuated it, not even during the fiercest arguments. You never stooped to using his vulnerabilities against him. It was evident to all that Boyd's Achilles' heel was you, yet you always made him feel invincible, as though he could stand against any adversary in Harlan County. And there were many, especially with the Oxy trade dwindling with the arrival of the new preacher and the drastic measures Boyd had to employ to protect not just his business, but your shared future together.

You often credited Boyd with rescuing you from a life confined to cleaning tables in seedy bars, but the truth was far deeper: you had saved him. Boyd harboured no illusions about his criminal past; he knew the trajectory it set for his future. Yet, it was you who prevented him from plunging too deeply into the shadows of his upbringing. The thought of returning home to you, regardless of the hour, was the sole beacon that guided him through the gruelling days of battling for control over Harlan County. He fought not just for the people or for himself, but for you, and for the possibility of a family you might one day bless him with —that was what made every struggle worthwhile.

You stirred beneath his touch, your lashes fluttering as your eyes slowly opened, bleary and seeking. A smile graced your lips as you spotted him, reaching out to rest your hand on his thigh, as if confirming he was really there.

"Was wondering when I'd see you," you murmured, your voice husky with sleep. Leaning in, he pressed a tender kiss to the tip of your nose.

"Time ran away from me," he confessed, his gaze soft as he regarded you. "I'm sorry, darlin'."

You studied him for a moment, the urge to inquire further tugging at your thoughts before you decided to let it go. "Time can be a tricky thing."

Allowing him to guide you up, you melted into his embrace as he held you close. His gentle fingers traced soothing patterns on your back, smoothing the fabric of his shirt that you wore to bed each night under his touch.

"I left dinner for you in the fridge," you reminded him, pulling back slightly to meet his eyes. "I'll join you."

He shook his head, drawing you back into his arms. "Not hungry," he murmured, planting a soft kiss on your neck. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"Well, you failed miserably," you teased, a playful chuckle escaping your lips as he shook you in his hold around your waist. You could feel his smile against your skin. "How could I sleep with you hovering over me like a ghost?"

He chuckled, releasing you and gently nudging your shoulder. You settled back against the pillows, observing him as he rose from the bed.

"You'd scold me if I didn't kiss you goodnight," he remarked, a fond smile on his lips as he removed his pocket watch and set it on the bedside table. He held your gaze as he began to unbutton his waistcoat. "You ask every morning."

You hummed in agreement, running your thumb over the smooth surface of the brass watch. In the early days, you had made it a habit to stay awake during Boyd's late nights, eager to be alert in case his dealings took a dangerous turn and he needed to be patched up. It had occurred a few times, though not recently. Boyd Crowder was the sharpest mind in Harlan—few managed to outsmart him.

Your new job had demanded more from you, and though you had offered to resign, Boyd had insisted that one of you must earn through legitimate means. He had encouraged you to attend training school, funded the evening studies through unconventional channels and sang about how this new role was going to be a step in cementing the future you'd both dreamed of. Nevertheless, it had taken a toll on you, and you found yourself less vigilant than you were before, despite the anxiety that had kept you alert during those initial months, worrying about his safety. 

He didn't mind, of course. He reassured you that he was simply grateful to return home to you, for the comfort and warmth you provided him, and for the graciousness with which you welcomed his associates, despite your reluctance for your home to serve as a meeting place during desperate times. He never made you feel inadequate, even when he was out risking his life to carve out a brighter future for both of you.

You had both settled into a familiar routine, one that left you both yearning for more but ultimately grateful when the day ended and you found solace in each other's embrace.

As the covers shifted, a chill swept over you, but Boyd swiftly slid beneath them, now dressed only in his underwear, and nestled closer to you. He gently retrieved the pocket watch from your hand, leaning over to place it back on the table, before wrapping his arm around your waist. You lay on your back, gazing up at the ceiling, your fingers tangling in his thick hair as he nestled against your chest, finding comfort in your embrace.

A myriad of thoughts raced through your mind, a multitude of questions that remained unspoken as you focused on the steady rhythm of your shared breaths. Sometimes, you felt the urge to uncover everything, to strip away all secrecy and confront the raw reality of what Boyd endured each day. Yet, you quickly reminded yourself—that wasn't your place. Your role was to support him while maintaining a certain level of ignorance. It was crucial, Boyd had insisted, in case you were ever questioned about him. Which you were, often, if not by nosy neighbours from the holler then by your lawman colleagues. You had been prepared for every instance though, it was Boyd who had thrown you into the belly of the beast after all. 

You loved Boyd deeply, trusting him with your life because you understood it was the thing he valued most. If he required you to play a part, then that's what you would do. You'd remain silent, tend to his wounds, and hold him close, serving as the anchor he needed to prevent him from drifting too far out to sea.

His lips traced a tantalizing path over your collar bone, up your neck, and across your chin until they met yours in a soft, lingering kiss. A contented sigh escaped you as you melted into him, his hand exploring the contours of your body, caressing your side, gliding over your stomach, and tracing down your thigh. He grasped, stroked, and savoured every inch of you, his tongue intertwining with yours in a passionate dance.

Your hand slipped from his hair, instead cupping one cheek as the other tenderly stroked his jaw, rough with the stubble that grazed your thumb. He moaned against your lips, a sound laden with desire and need, but reluctantly pulled away, pressing one final kiss against the corner of your mouth before meeting your gaze with weary eyes.

"How long do I have you for?" he inquired, his voice heavy with longing, and you glanced over to the clock beside the bed. The red digits stared back at you, marking the finite moments of your togetherness as you let out a resigned sigh.

"Four hours," you replied, meeting his gaze once more. He nodded, a solemn smile touching his lips as he sank back onto the mattress. Extending his arm, he invited you to snuggle against his chest, and you accepted, finding solace in the warmth.

"What if you didn't go?" he murmured, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty, his fingers tracing soothing circles on the top of your arm. You chuckled softly, tightening your embrace around him as the notion settled into your mind.

"I'm not sure the Harlan County Sheriff's Department would appreciate their employees playing hooky," you replied with a teasing grin. "Even if it's just a lowly trainee like me."

"Oh, I'm sure Mr. Parlow could manage without you for one day," he replied with a playful smile, then his expression turned mischievous as he looked down at you. "Perhaps I could persuade him, given our history."

You shook your head, a glint of amusement dancing in your eyes. Boyd always teased about using his influence to manipulate your work schedule—leaving early, extending your lunch break—but you were adamant about keeping your relationship with him separate from your professional life, regardless of his hand in it. You knew he could pull strings if you asked, but it was important to maintain a sense of independence.

"You did mention we needed to keep Shelby on our side," you reminded him with a playful smile. "I'm pretty sure that's how I ended up agreeing to those early shifts in the first place."

He chuckled softly and leaned in to press another kiss to your nose. "You've got me there, darlin'," he admitted, his voice tinged with affection. "Just wish I had more time with you, is all," he whispered, his thumb gently tracing along your lip before stroking down your chin.

You bit your lip, weighing the possibilities and outcomes in your mind as you gazed up at him. "Perhaps just the morning wouldn't hurt. I'll bring them coffee to make it up—do you think that'll help? Maybe Shelby won't be too upset," you proposed, searching his eyes for reassurance. His gaze softened, a bright grin spreading across his face.

"Oh, baby, I don't think anybody could stay mad at you," he declared in wonderment, and you couldn't help but chuckle. He wasn't merely being sweet—being Boyd Crowder's partner came with its perks as well as its drawbacks, one being that those who didn't want to cross him tended to steer clear of you. It seemed that extended to the Sheriff's department as well.

"I'll call in the morning," you decided, determination firm in your voice.

You rested your head back against his chest, snuggling closer into him as his arms enveloped you, his chin resting atop your head as he spoke softly. "I do believe this'll be the best sleep I've had in a while."

You smiled contentedly against him, feeling the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. Closing your eyes, you surrendered to the embrace of sleep, your dreams filled with the promise of the morning ahead, shared with Boyd, where every moment, no matter how seemingly ordinary, was something to look forward to.