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dancingbirdie · 1 year ago

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Behold my labor of love: Astarion SMUT.

This idea came to me after writing my last fic Something Imagined / Something Real. I wanted to backtrack and reimagine Astarion and Tav's first night together after the tiefling party.

If smut is not your thing, no worries! You can scroll down to the first set of asterisks (***) to avoid reading those parts. You don't miss much at all plot-wise.

This is my first time ever writing smut. Please be kind. And I hope you enjoy!

EDIT: This is a flashback fic! Part 2 is Something Imagined / Something Real. And subsequent vignettes to come!

I Want It To Be You

Rating: Mature/NSFW

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: Detailed description of consensual sex, Tav's first time having sex, descriptions and references to Astarion's trauma/trauma responses, description of panic attack/anxiety, minor Act 1 and Act 2 spoilers, FLUFF, angst

“Are you absolutely certain about this? About… me?”

If she weren’t already lying naked in his arms, she would have shed her clothes for him for that response alone. He wasn’t treating her like some oddity. And he was honoring her decision. It was more than anything Tav had dared hope for.

Her eyes welled with tears that threatened to fall. She laughed, suddenly elated, before nodding her head vigorously.

“I’m sure, Astarion,” she confirmed. “I want this to be with you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TWO WEEKS AGO

THE NIGHT OF THE TIEFLING PARTY

Let’s wait until things quiet down. Once the others are asleep, we’ll find each other.

Astarion’s parting words replayed over and over again in her head as she padded quietly through the woods, away from the campsite. From the comfort and familiarity of the party. They hadn’t agreed on a meeting place, but Tav assumed his heightened senses would locate her soon enough. She was grateful for the extra moments to herself. Her stomach was knotted from nerves and anticipation for what the night might bring.

She hadn’t told him that she was a virgin. He probably deserved to know, she realized that, but she hadn’t wanted him to change his mind just because he’d be taking something no one else had before. It was her choice, her body to give, she reasoned to herself. Whether for the first time or the hundredth time, it shouldn’t matter. Right?

Her past experiences certainly influenced her reticence. Divulging that particular information about herself had resulted in people immediately halting romantic pursuits with her, or leering at her like she was some sort of top-shelf prize they were about to take home. She didn’t want to know if, or where, Astarion might land on that spectrum. Didn’t think her heart could take either reaction from him. Besides, she’d read enough of those dirty romance tomes and scrolls throughout her life (for educational purposes, of course, she justified to herself) to have a general understanding of what happens during sex. Surely she could bluff her way through this. Right?

She wanted to please him. Wanted him to want her as much as she wanted him. It was no secret that Astarion had quickly become her favorite companion in this unlikely band of heroes she was traveling with. He was absolutely gorgeous, of course, but the longer she lingered around him, the less that seemed to matter. He was funny, in a devilish sort of way. Intelligent and cunning. Perceptive. And, while it was obvious that it unsettled the rest of the group, she genuinely appreciated how he prioritized his own self before bending over backwards to help someone else. Secretly, she wished she could emulate that a bit more in her own life, but years and years of people pleasing to win what scraps of affection she could was a hard habit to break.

Clearly she was no closer to doing so, as there she stood. In the middle of a forest. Preparing for a midnight tryst with a person she had just met but grown to genuinely care for. And she wasn’t even sure that he would, or wanted to, return her sentiments.

“There you are. I’ve been waiting.”

Astarion’s voice broke the mundane quiet of the forest that had lulled her into such ruminations. She turned toward the direction she had heard him speak and marveled at the sight of him slipping gracefully between the trees, moving ever slowly toward her.

He had removed his shirt and was clad only in his leather breeches and boots. His alabaster skin practically glowed in the silvery light of the moon. He was the most beautiful person Tav thought she had ever laid eyes on, and it wasn’t only because she could now see the taut, sinewy muscles of his abdomen. He was perfectly fit in an elegant sort of way. Not like Halsin, with large bulging biceps, thick torso and sturdy legs. No, Astarion was like a leopard. Lithe, agile, regal even. And his face. Gods, the poets and painters could opine for centuries on his beautiful face without ever growing weary.

“Is that so?” Tav called out in reply, walking to close the distance between them. By her estimate, she sounded much braver than she felt. Good.

Astarion nodded, raising one hand to cup her cheek. “Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you,” he finished, the pad of his thumb grazing sensually across her lower lip.

“You don’t have me yet,” she whispered teasingly, although both of them were clearly aware of how she had shivered when he touched her. How her head bowed into his touch, like a lovesick little thing.

“Don’t I?” he smirked. “You’re here. And I don’t think you want to talk.” He stepped closer, completely absolving them both of any personal space. His free hand came to rest along the curve of her waist.

“I think you want to be known. To be tasted.” He purred, lowering his head so that his lips ghosted the shell of her ear while he spoke.

Tav was thankful for the steadiness of his hands on her. His insinuations alone were quickly rendering her a quaking mess. But she didn’t want to be a selfish lover, and so she collected herself enough to pose a question in return.

“What do you want, Astarion?” she asked, bringing a hand to rest softly against his chest, over his heart.

She noted the way his brows drew down briefly, seeming almost confused by her question. But as quick as it came, the expression vanished, replaced by something much more confident. More assertive.

“What do any of us want?” he breathed. “Pleasure. Yours. Mine. Our collective ecstasy.”

Gently, so very gently, he began to trail hot, open-mouth kisses down the column of her neck. Tav’s breath caught audibly in her throat, and Astarion hummed in approval at her response.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?,” he murmured into the crook of her neck. “To lose yourself in me?”

It was fast becoming difficult for her to string two thoughts together. Astarion touching her like this sent shockwaves throughout her body. That curious heat she’d only known from touching herself began to kindle low in her belly. She clenched her thighs together subconsciously, trying to sate that feeling the fire was stirring up inside her. Astarion noticed her squirming, to his immense satisfaction.

“Well?” he coaxed in between kisses across her collarbone. His prompting reminded Tav that she had yet to answer his question, so lost was she in the feeling of his cool lips against her rapidly warming skin.

“I want to be with you. Share this night with you,” she answered honestly, unable to spare enough brain capacity to consider whether or not it was a good idea to be so forthcoming.

“Such a charitable little thing,” he chuckled. “How could I deny you?”

And then his mouth captured hers. It was a searing, passionate kiss. A kiss that promised so much more pleasure to come. One that Tav had never known before, despite having partaken in her fair share of kisses over the years. But this kiss? This was the kiss of time-fated lovers. And Tav was desperate to match Astarion’s pace, desperate to feel more, more, more.

She moaned as he ran his tongue lightly against the seam of her lips, granting him entry to fully sweep in and plunder her mouth proper. Her fingers carded through his silvery blonde curls, nails scraping lightly against his scalp. He groaned in response, the sound vibrating in her mouth.

She finally was forced to break their kiss after a few moments, hungrily gulping in air to alleviate her starving lungs. Astarion moved to ravage her neck once more, licking and sucking the soft delicate skin there. He gripped her ass possessively as he did so, walking her backwards until he was pressing her into the nearest tree.

He lifted a knee to knock her legs apart before raising it higher to press into the juncture of her thighs. He delighted at how Tav immediately parted her legs for him, how she moaned from the pressure, how she subconsciously began grinding against him.

“Look at you, you naughty thing” he crooned in her ear. “Riding my leg for some relief?”

Primal behavior called out, a scarlet blush immediately bloomed on Tav’s neck and cheeks. It only goaded Astarion further.

“Go on then, darling. Rut against me. But I’m getting these lovely tits free first,” he whispered.

He began undoing the laces on the front of her corset. Tav watched his progress, entranced by the gracefulness of his long, slender fingers. She was nearly trembling with anticipation. Once finished, she helped him extract her from the offending garment and allowed him to lift her chemise up, over her head, so that she was fully bare from the waist up. The cool night air turned her skin to gooseflesh, her nipples hardening.

The sensation roused her lust-addled brain enough to realize just how vulnerable she was, standing there half-naked before him. She’d never been so exposed to another person before. Her fingers fluttered as she fought the sudden bout of nerves that insisted she cover her breasts from view.

“Don’t you dare,” Astarion growled, plainly reading the self-conscious expression on her face. “I’ve been dying to see these for days now,” he continued, cupping one full breast and flicking her nipple lightly with his thumb.

It sent a pulse thrumming directly to her core, and Tav moaned openly at the sensation. She could feel her simple linen breeches were completely drenched, was certain she was also dampening Astarion’s leg as she continued to grind against him.

Astarion chuckled, clearly pleased by her reaction.

“So responsive,” he whispered before lowering his mouth to latch onto her breast. He sucked lightly, while his hand continued its assault on the other. She fisted his hair in one hand, kissing the top of his head lovingly while he worked her into a frenzy.

Tav felt like she was quickly losing any ability to maintain balance. Her body was aching, whining, for more. She wanted to be laid out on the ground, wanted him to press her into the soft earth, taking everything.

“Astarion, please,” she panted, pulling at his curls. He groaned in response, releasing her nipple from his mouth.

“Please what, pet?” he teased, kissing and licking up her sternum.

“I need… more,” she whined, bucking against his leg.

He huffed a laugh before sweeping her up in one smooth motion and lowering her to the soft grass beneath their feet.

He began to loosen the fastenings of her breeches with a practiced ease. Tav watched, breathless, as he slid the fabric down her thighs, his mouth following with indolent, open-mouthed kisses. Each touch of his lips on her heated skin left her skin tingling, her hips canting slightly into the open air.

Finally bare before him, she watched as Astarion surveyed her from where she lay beneath him. In nearly all respects, he looked primed and ready to ravage her. His nostrils flared, detecting the heady scent of her arousal. His chest rose and fell with shallow, ragged breaths. For the first time, she took note of the considerable erection straining against the leathers he still wore.

After a moment, he came down to lie beside her, pulling her onto her side so that her chest was pressed flush against his. He trailed a hand down her side, over the rise and fall of her curves, until he reached her thigh. He hiked her leg onto his hip.

But something was off. Amid her clouded thoughts, Tav thought she could sense it, even if she couldn’t precisely put a finger on it. Perhaps it was the look in his eyes? Or the perfect nature of his behavior? He seemed almost too practiced, too formulaic. Like an actor who’s rehearsed their lines to the point that the words have lost their meaning. He was there with her, but somehow he wasn’t, at the same time.

“Are you all right?” Tav asked in a hushed voice, lifting a hand to cup his neck. She rubbed soothing circles with her thumb across his jawline.

“I’m more than all right, darling,” he replied with a smirk, squeezing her ass lightly.

“You seem like… you’re not wholly present,” she explained.

“It’s difficult to decide what I’d like to do to you first,” he reasoned, sidestepping her unspoken question. “I’m torn between tasting you with my tongue, or fucking you with my fingers,” he smirked.

Before she could respond, his fingers took an experimental swipe between her folds. She gasped at the feeling, her hips bucking against him. She watched, speechless, as he lifted that hand to suck the wetness from his fingers. Her wetness. In his mouth.

He groaned in approval. “Mmm. You’re pure sweetness, darling.”

All thoughts eddied from her mind. A singular, primal focus took over, and she suddenly clutched at Astarion’s neck with newfound ferocity.

He seemed to know exactly how his behavior had affected her, if his impish grin was anything to go by. He lowered his hand to swipe against her once again, his fingers stopping to circle that sensitive bud at the apex of her thighs. Tav jerked in response, but Astarion had been prepared for it. He used his other arm to brace against her back, locking her in place against him.

As she writhed against his hand, he repositioned himself to insert a finger inside her. She was deliciously warm and soaking wet. Soft, like velvet. His thumb continued to circle her clit, eliciting a long, low moan from Tav. Embarrassed, she attempted to muffle her voice by ducking her face into his chest.

He chuckled again. “That’s it, sweet one. Let me hear you,” he goaded her. Her moans pitched higher in response.

After a few moments of pistoning in and out of her, he inserted a second finger. But despite how drenched she was, he met considerable resistance, to his surprise. He stilled his fingers in response, uncertain.

It took a moment for Tav to register that Astarion had stopped moving inside her. Caught somewhere between discomfort and satisfaction, the increased sense of fullness his two fingers brought was strange but not altogether unwelcome. She exhaled, but it came out as more of a hiss than a sigh. After a moment of stillness, she raised her head to look at him.

“What is it?” she questioned..

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” Astarion murmured.

Tav flushed. He’d realized, despite her best efforts to cover up that truth. Absently, she wondered what had given her away.

She said nothing at first, just studied him. He didn’t seem angry. But then again, she had quickly learned that Astarion was very skilled at masking his true feelings.

“No. I haven’t,” she admitted.

At her reply, he gently removed his fingers from inside her. He moved his hand to clutch her hip instead.

She sighed, rolling onto her back, gazing up at the stars. “Is that going to be a problem for you?”

Silence. It felt deafening in her ears. But then –

“I’m a bad choice, darling,” he replied, his thumb rubbing absentmindedly over her hip bone. She failed to see the sad smile that graced his mouth. “A terrible choice, really. For your first time.”

“It’s my decision,” she retorted, lolling her head to the side so she could look him straight in the eyes. “I want it to be you, Astarion. But if this is going to be a… problem for you, or become some ordeal where you feel guilty or weirdly triumphant, then we can just–”

“It’s not a problem for me. It’s your decision,” he affirmed softly, interrupting the beginning of her tirade. Some unknown emotion flitted across his features. He schooled his expression before she could really identify it.

“But I have to ask,” he continued, studying her seriously. “Are you absolutely certain about this? About… me?”

Her eyes welled with tears that threatened to fall. She laughed, suddenly elated, before nodding her head vigorously.

“I’m sure, Astarion,” she confirmed. “I want this to be with you.”

His eyes softened, obviously touched by her response. It was the first time tonight, she realized, that he had appeared vulnerable to her. He was staring at her as though he were seeing her for the first time. Like he couldn’t believe that the woman between his arms was real.

Without another word, he captured her mouth in a passionate kiss. His tongue swept in her mouth at the same time he inserted his fingers again, tasting her gasp of pleasure. His thumb began circling her clit once more, and Tav was powerless to silence her moans.

“Good. So good, sweet girl,” he whispered in her ear after a few moments. “You’re so close.”

She let loose a whine, squeezing her eyes shut as she chased that ever-nearing precipice inside her. Astarion’s voice in her ear only pushed her that much closer.

“That’s it. Come for me,” he urged, and she felt her orgasm rip through her at his words. Stars collided behind her eyes as she tumbled from that cliff of pleasure, Astarion holding her and whispering soft praises as she floated back down to earth.

Eventually her eyes fluttered open to see Astarion smiling openly at her. She felt her lips stretch up to return his grin.

“That was… incredible,” she breathed.

He huffed a soft laugh. “I’m not nearly finished with you. Unless you’d like to sto–”

“No,” Tav blurted, a little too loudly, interrupting him. “No. I want more. Please. Show me.”

“Of course, darling” Astarion promised, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. He gently released her and stood, beginning to remove his own clothing. Tav watched him brazenly, drinking in the sight of him.

She moaned softly as he removed his breeches, his impressive length springing free. He remained still, allowing her to take in the sight of him fully naked before her. Curious, she sat up and lifted a hand to wrap around him. She marveled at the way he felt. Like velvet-wrapped steel. She gave a tentative stroke, thrilling as he groaned in response. She stroked him again, harder, intent on learning how to give him as much pleasure as he’d already given her.

But he stayed her wrist with a gentle touch of his hand. She paused, looking up at him, confused.

“As exquisite as teaching you how to stroke me would be,” he explained in a sultry voice, “I’m much more interested in teaching you something else tonight.”

Tav nodded mutely, lying back once more. She opened her legs for him to return to her. Astarion smiled, lowering himself on top of her. He braced his forearms on either side of her head, one hand absently combing through her hair. His hips fit perfectly in the cradle of her thighs, and she moaned as she felt him gently nudge against her entrance.

“This is going to hurt at first,” he explained in a hushed whisper. She nodded, her breathing a bit uneven in anticipation of what would come next.

“But then it will stop. You’ll stretch around me. And then it will feel good,” he continued.

She nodded again, trying to remain focused on his words. But the primal part of her mind was warring against her. And it was winning. She subconsciously bucked her hips into him, marveling as she felt him slip between her folds just slightly. He hissed at the sensation, clenching his jaw.

“Greedy little thing,” he chastised teasingly. “All right, enough talking. But you will tell me if you need to stop, yes?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, I promise.”

“Good girl,” he purred.

And then slowly, gently, he sheathed himself fully inside her with a groan.

Tav gasped in response. It was unlike any feeling she had ever felt before. Astarion had been right; it was painful at first. A pinching sensation. A mind-bending feeling of fullness. But then, but then, the feeling was phenomenal. She felt her walls stretch to accommodate him, felt herself clench around him, accepting him in his entirety.

Astarion’s head dropped to the crook of her neck. His whole body trembled, as if it was taking all his restraint to remain still so she could grow accustomed to him.

She canted her hips into him a bit, testing the waters. He groaned again in response, and she released a breathy chuckle.

He raised his head at the sound, peering down at her. “You little minx,” he breathed. “You have no idea what you’ve started.”

She thrilled at his words, crying out in ecstasy as he began to thrust in and out of her. The pace he set was addicting; the rhythm had her pushing her hips up to meet him, her legs locked around his back to pull him closer.

“You’re taking me so, so well, darling,” Astarion grunted, ratcheting up his pace. “You’re so tight. So. Perfectly. Fucking. Tight.”

His words were a fuel to her flame. She cried out his name again and again as he continued to rut into her, reveling in the feeling of him claiming her completely and totally. She was lost to the sensations, adrift in the fullness of Astarion inside her.

Finally, or perhaps all too soon, she felt his pace begin to grow more erratic. His hips lost their rhythmic pumping. His groans grew louder. Sensing his release was close, Tav clutched him tighter, digging her heels in his back to pull him closer, clenching around his length inside her.

“Yes, yes, FUCK,” he barked all at once, and her eyes rolled back into her head as he slammed himself to the hilt inside of her one final time. She could feel his release spilling inside her.

Lost for words, she simply held Astarion as he half-collapsed on top of her, one arm still braced on the ground beside her head. Listless, euphoric, and utterly at peace, Tav raised one arm to gently caress his back, listening to his erratic breaths slow. Distantly, she noted the raised, rough sensation of scars on his upper back, but she was too consumed by their mutual pleasure to give it a further thought.

Eventually, Astarion slipped out of her. He lowered himself to lie down beside her, curling one arm around her waist.

Tav closed her eyes and curled into his side, suddenly overcome with drowsiness. “Thank you, Astarion” she whispered faintly.

“For what, my darling?” he crooned, tucking an errant curl behind her ear.

“For making my first time so wonderful,” she replied.

She was asleep before he could think of a sufficient response.

***

The panic was a monstrous thing. Clawing at his chest, its vice-like grip squeezing his lungs until inhaling felt like breathing through a reed. He could barely think. Barely move. Barely registered the lovely woman still sleeping peacefully beside him.

The part of his brain that wasn’t frozen in fear chastised himself for behaving this way. He had taken plenty of virgins before. In fact, he had sought them out specifically. They were a much easier prey. They became attached to him so quickly, attributed so much more meaning to their first bout of lovemaking than perhaps more… seasoned individuals.

He should have been elated. She was obviously besotted with him. His plan to ensure her loyalty was moving forward without a hitch. So then why was he feeling so horrible?

He turned to observe Tav. So close to him and yet so far away. Swept into that blissful sleep that continued to elude him. He watched her chest rise and fall with deep, steady breaths. Watched her eyelids twitch as her mind made its way through some dream. She was so very vulnerable in this position. And so very trusting. Of him, of all people.

Astarion didn’t like many people. But he had developed a fondness for Tav, despite the short period of time they had known one another. She treated him like a person, not a monster. Not like the others in their party. She seemed to accept him for who he was, cynicism and vanity and all. He couldn’t remember ever knowing someone as kind to him as she was. She was… incredible.

And then it struck him. He was developing… something… for her. Feelings? Affection? The sentiments were so foreign to him, he didn’t even know what to call it.

But the realization caused panic to clutch him even tighter. No. He couldn’t feel this way. He wouldn’t.

This thing with Tav was purely transactional. It had to be. There was no other viable option. She had needed to feel something with someone. He had needed to secure an ally. That was all.

That is all this is, he thought, quashing the weak sentimental part of his mind.

And come morning, he resolved he would make certain that that was all this was for her as well.

***

Tav woke to the sound of birds chirping, high in the trees above her. The early morning sunlight filtered in through the forest, dappling her skin and warming her in the places that it touched. Opening her eyes, she spied Astarion, already dressed and standing a few paces in front of her.

His back was facing her, his face lifted toward the sun. She noted how he held his arms outstretched by his sides, palms facing up as though he were trying to collect all the sunlight pouring into their little grove. Despite his preternatural sense of hearing, he didn’t seem to be aware that she’d awoken, so lost was he in his enjoyment of the sun’s rays.

Tav’s heart nearly swelled to bursting as she watched him. Before all of this, he hadn’t felt the sunlight on his skin in over 200 years. Now, he was reveling in it. His joy was such an innocent, pure thing.

How many times had Tav taken the sun warming her skin for granted? Probably all of her life, she supposed. To see someone so appreciative of something so utterly mundane to her… well, it was a sobering reminder to acknowledge those little pleasures in life, especially the ones that seemed so constant to her.

She also took the time to study the strange pattern of scars on his back. She had felt some of the rough ridges last night, as she clutched him closer while he spilled himself inside her. But she hadn’t realized just how intricate and intentional the markings were. The sight of them sparked a rage inside her. Whoever the monster was who’d done this to him, they deserved to pay a price worse than death.

Someday soon, she swore she would ask him about those markings. But not today. Not right now. Not in the aftermath of spending such a wonderful night together. No, the only thing she wanted for them both today was to revel in post-coital bliss.

Not wishing to startle him, Tav intentionally laid back to stretch out her blissfully sore muscles, rustling the grass and fallen leaves around her. She threw in a halfhearted yawn for good measure. Secretly, she hoped he would return to her, take her again in this quiet forest, beneath the warmth of the sun.

“You sleep light,” Astarion chuckled, half-turning to speak to her but not meeting her gaze. “I thought you’d be exhausted after last night.”

Tav hesitated at his tone. It wasn’t cold per se, but he sounded much more guarded than he had been last night. Perhaps she was just being extra sensitive in light of what they had shared, she reasoned.

“Did you enjoy it?” she asked hesitantly. She watched his back, waiting for a reply. “It felt like… you weren’t truly there…” she added, after a beat of silence.

“I was… holding back a little, it’s true,” he finally responded. “I didn’t want to lose control. Delicious as you were… I didn’t want to go too far.”

“Oh, I see,” Tav replied, a bit dismayed. “I’m sorry you felt that way.”

Astarion turned and gave her a trademark smirk. “Think nothing of it, darling. Now,” he intoned, clapping his hands together. “Shall we get on? We’ve wasted enough time already.”

The words were like a lance to her heart.

“I… I didn’t consider it a waste,” she murmured, trying with some difficulty to hide her hurt.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Astarion huffed. “I just meant I’d like to break camp and get out of here before those tieflings drag us into another one of their messes.”

“Sure, of course,” Tav nodded, smiling up at him, though it came across as more of a grimace. Then she broke eye contact, bending over under the guise of collecting her discarded clothing. Really, she didn’t think she could look at him a moment longer without crying.

“I still need to dress,” she said, attempting a casual sort of air. “You go ahead without me.”

She sensed rather than saw Astarion hesitate at her suggestion.

“Are you sure? We’re a fair walk from camp. I can spare a few moments and wait.”

“Positive,” she replied with false cheer. “Go on ahead. The last thing either of us need is the party jeering at us if we’d return together.”

“Fair point,” Astarion conceded. “All right. Then… I’ll see you, back at camp.” Then he was walking away, back toward the direction of their fellow party members.

Tav waited until she could no longer hear his footsteps before she let loose a quiet sob. She wasn’t exactly sure why she was crying. Maybe it was just the stress of everything that had finally overwhelmed her. Maybe it was how abysmally this morning had gone. She didn’t know how she’d expected the morning after a sexual tryst to go, but she certainly hadn’t imagined what had just taken place. She hadn’t expected Astarion to slip that aloof mask he wore so well immediately back on, not when it was still just the two of them here.

Then again, she reasoned, perhaps there was a perfectly justifiable reason for his actions. They barely knew one another, after all. He didn’t owe her anything beyond general respect. They hadn’t made any promises or ties to one another. They had simply agreed on a night of pleasure. That night had passed on. She should move on as well. Right?

But she had hoped. Oh, she had hoped. That maybe last night could have been the start of something new for her. For both of them. She knew she was a dreamer at heart. But still, part of her couldn’t help but hope that some silver lining would come out of all of this mess.

In any case, she knew she needed to pull herself together before reentering the camp. She would not let anyone see her cry, especially Astarion. So she remained standing in the grove for a few moments longer, collecting herself.

She forced her mind to focus on anything, anything else. She counted the birds she saw flitting amongst the tree limbs. She watched leaves swirling in their light, airy dance toward the ground. And she said a silent prayer to whatever gods were out there and possibly listening. She prayed that everything would work out the way it was meant to be.

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sunrizef1 · 8 months ago

Text

Guilty as sin?

Pairing: Max Verstappen x reader | (side) Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: Emotional cheating

Word count: 1.8k

Authors note: hate this kinda idk | Not proofread | I also do not condone cheating, this is just based on a Taylor swift song do not come for me

———————————————————

A text lights up your phone, illuminating the dark of your hotel room with the shine of a text message. You glance down at your sleeping boyfriend beside you, checking to see if he’s still deeply asleep before picking up your phone and sliding it open.

Max <3

The Downtown Lights - The Blue Nile

*Spotify link attached*

You sigh, closing your phone and setting it back onto your nightstand, eyes shutting tightly. You glance back over to Lando, asleep beside you, willing him to suddenly be a shittier person so you could feel less guilty about this.

Not that you and Max had done anything. You hadn’t. But it didn’t stop you from daydreaming about the Red Bull driver. It hadn’t stopped him either, apparently. You had heard the song, of course you had. Max sending it only confirmed that the less than platonic feelings between you were, in fact, reciprocated.

Just as you’re about to roll over and return to the sleep that had been evading you for more than a few hours, your phone lights up once again.

Max <3

I know you saw that

Come up to the roof

See you there

You roll your eyes at the texts, arrogance bleeding through every letter. Although, despite your holier than thou attitude, you do slide out of the bed, reaching down to a slide on a pair of slippers, praying the bed won’t creak as you stand up. Your feet pad quietly across the carpet of the hotel room, steps muffled by the fluff in your shoes.

You turn your phone to face the room, hoping it’s enough light to illuminate your way out. You step around your suitcase in the middle of the floor, cursing quietly as your foot catches on the zipper slightly. You catch yourself though, quickly grasping your key card and exiting the room.

Once you’re in the hallway, you let out a deep sigh, face relaxing under the fluorescent lights. You bit your lip, debating how worth it this tryst would be. You were fairly certain you were both into each other. All this meeting would be was another interaction where you both ignore your feelings and you have to lock the hints he was dropping away in a vault to never be considered again.

Even after considering the cons, you push yourself away from the wall, walking toward the stairs. You were already on the top floor so all you had between you and Max was a single set of stairs. You run a hand through your hair, hoping you don’t have a bad case of bedhead. Not that you had gotten enough sleep to mess your hair up at all anyway.

You slide the door open and set foot upon the stairs, trying not to wobble too much. Every step feels like it takes twenty minutes, every one leading to an unknown fate at the top. Your footsteps echo around the dark hall, sound bouncing off the concrete walls.

When you get to the top, you push the door open gently, cold air rushing to hit you as you step out. The door shuts closed behind you with a slam and you’re suddenly not sure if you’ll be able to get it open again. But it wasn’t really the time to care about that as your eyes lock on a familiar Dutch man sat on the edge of the roof.

Your feet patter gently against the roof, each step feeling quieter than the last. You take your time in approaching him, his head not even having turned your way since you set foot upon the place he had invited you. Not that you wanted him to turn around. You were worried that locking eyes with him would make you run away, or worse, make you more inclined to stay. So you just walk quietly to the edge, carefully swinging your legs over the side to sit a few feet away from him.

You’re not too worried about falling. There’s another edge just a few yards below you, no doubt there to stop rich drunk people from taking a nosedive off the roof during a party or after a wild night.

Cold air slides across your unusually warm face, heated with the reality of the situation. It’s not windy though, which is nice. Instead it’s just a nice chill, cold seeping through your thin sleep shirt and into your skin.

“I knew you’d come,” Max’s voice breaks the tranquility of the moment, cutting through the air with a familiar arrogant tilt.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, instead opting to hum lightly, eyes still locked onto the cityscape below you. You’d always loved Las Vegas. The city was always bursting with life and it was just so pretty to look at. Especially from above. It has shocked you when you’d walked out and the roof was empty. You’d’ve thought there’d be an abundance of people considering how little the city sleeps to begin with. You were honestly surprised Lando had chosen to stay asleep in your hotel room instead of stay out partying. Maybe when you’d told him it’d be better for him to get some sleep for once, he’d actually listened.

Maybe you should’ve listened to your own advice. You should’ve stayed asleep and completely avoided Max. Maybe then you wouldn’t feel like spewing your guts out on the many drunkards below.

“Not going to say anything, then?” Max laughs and you can feel his gaze on the side of your face. You fight the strong urge to lock eyes with him, “You don’t get to act like I’m the one coercing you here. You also chose to come up here.”

He’s right, of course. But you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

“Do you even like him?” Max questions and you can feel your stomach drop. You’d been thinking about that exact question for months now and you honestly were dreading the answer. You finally look away from the buildings in front of you to take a quick glance toward Max, his eyes already trained on yours.

You sigh, warm breath clouding in the cold night air, “I don’t know.”

Max makes a face at your words, shaking his head, “What do you mean you don’t know? How can you not know if you like your boyfriend?”

You roll your eyes, looking away from him again, arms crossing across your torso tightly, “I mean I don’t know, Max. I know the answer you want, trust me, I do. If it helps, I don’t love him. Not anymore, at least.”

“Yeah, no shit. I knew that. I’m asking if you like him,” Max scoffs, shifting closer to you. You roll your eyes again, finally giving in and turning your body toward his.

“He’s a fine person, Max. It just feels like neither of us even want this relationship anymore.”

“Then why are you still dating him?”

That makes you stop dead, letting out a shaky breath as you accept that you’d finally have to open up to the man next to you, “We’ve been together so long, I’ve tried so hard to make it work. I thought we were going to get married, honestly.”

You glance nervously over to Max, expecting to see an angry look on his face. Instead you’re met with one of understanding which shocks you back into speaking again, “I would’ve said yes if he’d asked.”

Max hums, discreetly shifting a bit closer as he turns to stare out at the city below you. You wait for his response with bated breath, praying he doesn’t hate you for basically leading him on.

“But he didn’t ask.”

“Yeah,” you nod, face filled with remorse for your relationship, “He didn’t.”

Max hums again, glancing above the two of you at the shining lights casting a soft glow upon the pair of you. Music begins to play softly from somewhere down below you. When you glance over the edge, you’re met with a street band preforming a nice ballad, swaying along to their melodies. When Max stands up, you think he’s going to leave you entirely but your eyebrows shoot up when he holds out a hand instead.

“Come on,” He says and you can feel your heart flutter as you catch the soft smile on his face. Something that hadn’t happened with Lando in a long while.

You grasp you hand in his, feeling the warmth of his larger hands spread into your chilly ones. He pulls you up gently, although maybe adding a bit too much strength as you fall flush against his chest. You laugh and stumble back a bit, hands still clutching his. He pulls you into a sway, gliding along to the melodic notes that float up from down below. You sit and take in the quiet moment for a little while, eventually moving your head to rest against his chest. The silence is broken when you glance up and see Max already looking down at you.

“I’m not gonna cheat on Lando,” you mumble, eyes softening as you stare up, “He doesn’t deserve that.”

If Max disagrees, he keeps it to himself well enough, choosing to nod instead, “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

You hum, placing your head back on his chest, “I do think about you though.”

Max tilts his head and his eyebrows furrow as the words leave your mouth. When you catch his expression, you feel the need to explain, “Just in life. Everything I do, I think about you doing it with me. I don’t know, just accept the compliment that I think about you when you’re not around, please.”

You can feel Max’ laugh rumble through his chest and you glance up to see his head titled back and his eyes closed as he chuckles softly before glancing back at you, smile still painting his face, “I can live with that. For now.”

You take a page out of his book and just hum in response, eyes falling closed as you, once again, lean against him. The two of you sway to the music for a while, only stopping when it does as well. You find yourself praying it never does so you never have to return to your reality where your boyfriend of six years has refused to put a ring on it so you went to one of his friends for emotional comfort and ended up falling in love with him. But the music does stop and you do return to that reality, feet padding softly down the hotel stairs.

You slide your keycard in the door, wincing at the sound it makes as it accepts it. You support the door as it closes, toeing off your shoes and tossing the keycard on your nightstand. You plug your phone into the charger, glancing down at the new texts on your home screen before sliding them away and rolling over to, hopefully, find sleep in a sleepless night.

Max <3

I'll wait for you btw

I knew about him

But now I know about you

If he kills me it'd be a wonderful way to die

For you

I'd wait forever, darling

————————————————————

Tags: @casperlikej @evie-119

#scheduled #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 smau #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x female reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff #lando norris x female reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n

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jjkeremika · 1 year ago

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AoT men confess their love for you

i.e., how i think they’d tell you they love you

reader x Eren, Jean, Armin, Reiner, Porco, Erwin, Levi, Zeke, Bertoldt

*unspecified gender reader*

Eren - blurts it out during sex and you can’t convince me otherwise

You and Eren weren’t really dating, per se… more like… hooking up behind your best friend’s back. The fact that Mikasa was his sister and your best friend was enough to keep both your urges at bay for a few months, but when she left for summer camp and he stayed behind, leaving just you two to keep each other company… well… things took on a life of their own.

So for the whole summer you and Eren gallivanted around the districts over, going on unlabelled dates and hiding from those (Armin, Jean) who just might tell Mikasa about the tryst, because maybe telling her was just too fast or too complicated for the easy and noncommittal situationship.

Which felt like exactly that… until you were bouncing on his cock in the back of his car, his mouth attached to your neck and your fingers curled in his hair. He thrusted upwards, evoking a loud moan from you, when Eren suddenly blurted out, “I think I love you,” with a hearty breath, his hips never stuttering as he kept the motion, his mouth compensating for the words by pressing to your neck.

Maybe it was time to call your best friend.

Jean - it slips out and he tries to deflect it but you already knew

You met Jean during volunteer community service, where you and the awkwardly-tall brunette would leisurely walk around the districts and collect litter. The first day everyone was set off in pairs, you two randomly assigned to wander the same district, and you both actively decided to group together every time after that.

Your conversations were rarely of any importance, mostly letting it serve as either a way to pass time or to express feelings and opinions about people the other doesn't know. At first, he talked an awfully lot about some woman who you weren't sure from his stories if she even knew he existed. Over the months of service together, he stopped bringing her up and started talking about this other person of interest instead.

His cheeks and ears turned bright pink whenever you'd ask about how he met this person, usually providing some vague and nondeterministic answer that honestly left you more confused than before. Some stuttered-out answers and a few too-similar-to-your-own interests later, you had a deep suspicion and debated how to delve it out of him.

It wasn't very hard. One week before the holiday break you two were wandering around, discussing future plans with friends and family for the upcoming holiday. "Are you excited for the break?" you asked, nudging his side with your elbow. "Huh?" he responded curiously, "Oh, I... Yeah, I guess." You snorted in response, "Sounds like it. C'mon, the holiday is a time for being with your love ones! Isn't that exciting?"

"But I only see them not on break, during volunteerin--" It was almost like he'd forgotten who he was speaking to, and his entire face erupted in various shades of pinks and reds, maybe even a light purple from the lack of breathing. He was internally kicking himself, berating himself for being so loose and stupid around you, for always struggling to think around you. He was oblivious to the smile on your face. "I, uh, because, I... love volunteering... so much."

Armin - tells you he's in love with you because you've changed his life (he’s poetic without meaning to be)

Armin was unusual from other men you’ve dated. Height aside, he was very in touch with his emotions, intelligent, and capable; but he tormented himself with baseless insecurities and unfounded truths until all of his perks were equally weighed down by his shortcomings. He’d bring himself down until he was impossibly low, until his opinion of himself couldn’t get lower.

He was depressed when you first met, his friends warning you that maybe it was beyond you, that it wasn’t your responsibility anyway. You knew that, of course, but it was Armin, and it’s difficult to watch sunshine be forced behind endless seas of clouds. So you’d remind him as much as possible to be kinder to himself, to speak to himself positively since he’s the only one who he will spend forever with.

It wasn’t a surprise when your relationship advanced; the effort and care you put in him nurtured feelings beyond friendship. The warmth spread inside him like a wildfire from a lit match in dry brush, and he found himself favoring you over any form of logic or reason.

It was a random weekday when he pulled you aside, trying to make time for a brief 5 minute date between lessons. He seemed nervous, which wasn’t necessarily odd, but he’d become significantly more comfortable around you over the years. “I, uh,” he started unsurely, hesitantly, “You mean so much to me. I can't imagine this life without you. I..." He crossed his forearm over his stomach as he anchored his shaky hand on the inside of his other arm's elbow, holding it tightly to stop his body from shaking as he angelically stared into your eyes. "I’m in love with you. And I don’t mean that poetically or sexually or theoretically or logically or figuratively or ideologically or any of that. I mean it literally. I am in love with you.”

Reiner - tried to act like he didn’t care but he was really invested in your response

You had been casually dating around when you first met Reiner, the tall bulky blond with the bordering-arrogant demeanor having approached you at the bar while your date was in the bathroom. He had a confident smirk plastered across his cheeks as he said, “You know, my wallet has been itching to buy the most stunning person in this room a drink, and, well, I think I’ve found them.”

It shouldn’t have worked but you’d had a few drinks already and a new heat burned in your abdomen and he was significantly more attractive than your current date, so you accepted his invitation to buy you a new drink and take the seat. A second first date of the night, completed with a quick fuck in the bathroom and at home.

Your relationship progressed smoothly from then on, with a heavy positive emphasis in the bedroom. And while neither of you ever clarified the relationship and asked if it was official, your eyes and lips and privates were so glued to each other there was no peripheral for any one else. Which was why, while Reiner never explicitly stated how he felt for you aside from daily comments--"My god, baby, you are so sexy,"; "Mmf, you make me feel too fucking good, darlin', fuck,"; "Sexiest person alive, yeah. you already know I'm speaking about you and your smart sexy ass,"--you were never really that worried anyway.

So when you two were laying on your backs in the bed, side-by-side, chest heaving to catch your breaths, and the words slipped from his mouth post-coitus, "Fuck, darlin', I love you," you were shocked, and a, "What did you say?" slipped from your mouth before you could process. He bit the inside of his lip and felt a nervous weightlessness erupt in his stomach. Reiner shrugged and sat upright, blocking his face from your view with his back. "Huh? Didn't hear me?" Reiner asked, forcing his voice to remain confident and steady, and turned to look at you briefly before stirring to stand up. He shrugged, the inside of his cheek rough and chewed up like a dog-toy. "I just said I love you. It's not a... big deal."

Porco - says it like a joke so you aren’t totally sure if he means it

Galliard was your best guy friend, joining you anywhere you didn’t want to go alone and cracking jokes to lighten the mood. He was really good at that, making you laugh, and he couldn’t deny that the sound was like music to his ears, magical notes strung together to create the most beautiful song he’d ever heard.

It was exactly because of how close you two were that both of you feared doing exactly what you wanted the other to do—make the first move. And because it was the other one, every flirty touch or suggestive comments were stripped of all intention, because there’s just no way the best friend would ever be into them too. Instead, it was personally replaced with sarcastic or playful undertones and purposeful reminders of feelings that didn’t exist.

You had convinced him to go to the lake with you, which your friends conveniently bailed on so that it really was just you two. Porco had hopped into your kayak from the dock, taking you by surprise and fearing a capsize. “Porco!” you screamed, giggling, holding onto the edge of the kayak, “What’s wrong with your own kayak? Desperately trying to get close to me?”

You watched the adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed intently, like he was carefully choosing when to breathe and what to say. “Haha, yeah,” he settled on, forcing himself to chuckle lightly, his voice littered with nuanced feelings he couldn’t bring himself to say confidently, “because I’m definitely in love with you…” You noticed Porco’s lack of eye contact, that he was now looking far off into the distance. “Or something like that,” he joked nervously, wiping his sweaty palms against his thighs as he sat down behind you, hoping you couldn’t see through his charade.

Erwin (age gap) - planned it out but everything didn’t go to plan

After six months together, Erwin already knew how strongly he felt towards you. You were everything he could’ve hoped for and everything he’d waited for. He already knew he wanted you as his future spouse (eventually, he knew you weren’t ready to marry). And so he wanted the moment he told you how he felt to be special to you, to be as special as you were to him.

Erwin had your six-month anniversary date planned out to the T: first, a leisurely walk around the park; second, a quick stop at a couple of your favorite shops nearby to browse and buy you a gift (or gifts, really, he’d buy whatever you wanted); third, stop in at the new bistro you’ve been dying to try—“Ooh, Winnie, look, look! We have to go there!”; fourth, walk around and watch the stars until your feet were sore and he could carry you home.

A sudden rainstorm ruined the walk, forcing both of you to run for cover under some trees for quite some time until it passed. Once the rain finally stopped, it was too close to the dinner reservation time to stop in at the shops, and he shuttled you to the bistro. You were both sat next to a loud family with screaming children, barely able to hear the other speak the entire time, staring at each other with morose smiles while munching on mediocre food. The stars hid behind thick dark clouds as you both walked home, and Erwin felt too defeated to ask to carry you because you were finally enjoying that brisk walk.

At your doorstep, when he profusely apologized for ruining your anniversary date—“Ernie, seriously? Stop apologizing! You can’t control the weather! And the restaurant was my idea anyway.” The frown lines on his face deepened and twisted in morose. “No, that’s not…” he sighed, upset that nothing had gone to plan, “I wanted everything to be the perfect night for my perfect person, a wonderful night solely for the one I love…” he added in a whisper, “…and I messed it all up.”

Inviting him felt like the only way to reverse his thoughts, to make him realize that, despite everything he considered so wrong, it was all so correctly wrong to you it may as well have been perfect.

Levi - thinks it should be obvious since he’s still with you

It was about subtlety when dating Levi. At least, that’s what you’d figured out in the year you’ve been together. His face was relatively expressionless, so you’d learned to read his body language, but you honestly worried you’d never be fluent, because you still questioned the presence or validity of his feelings for you on some days.

He said it once, that he felt deeply for you on the day he asked you out. He repeated it on your six-month anniversary, when you asked if he still felt that way and he answered with a monotoned, “Well, yeah. Obviously. I thought it was implied since we’re together and all.”

Your favorite version of him was when he was sleepy, when he was too tired to keep his protective walls up, because he was cuddly and cozy and craved nothing but your presence and warmth and actively showered you with soft kisses.

It was when his guard was down like this that you asked him, on your one-year, if he still felt the same—shielding the fear of his answer by joking that you’ll ask him every six months—and he rolled his eyes playfully and chuckled, wrapping his arm tighter around you, kissing your cheek, and muttering, “Yes, love, and I’ll give you the same answer six months, six years, and six centuries from now.”

Zeke - writes you a love letter (unlike armin he tries to be poetic)

Zeke was into you well before you even started to reciprocate those feelings. There was something so enigmatic about you, a light airy aura that made him feel buoyant, that unchained him from the burden of his father’s wants and wishes. In his eyes, you saved him.

For a debt he felt he could never repay, he always brought you flowers and sweets and gifts; he wrote long poems detailing that your beauty was beyond all beholders, that you put the sun to shame, that you were the spark to start his supernova; he sent you good morning beautiful and sweet dreams baby texts, hoping you started and ended your day with a smile.

After a couple months of exclusive dating, he wrote you a love letter, expressing the extent of what you meant to him—the burning shape of you etched permanently in his heart—, handing it to you with a deep red stretched across his face and asking you to read it privately, to share it with no one.

My dearest beloved, I write as I know my tongue will fail me, reminiscent of all previous attempts where my lips part and only whimsy air escapes. Remember those moments, my dear? How you'd don a concerned expression and question me in my flustered state. Oh, how futile the intention feels when my spiritual body abandons me, rendering my physical body utterly useless in translation as my stoic invulnerability precedes me. Oh, how I yearn for you the way broken skin stitches itself back together, the way fibers of a wire stretch to hold on, to come together and remain as one. Oh, how you complete me the manner punctuation consummates these phrases, embedding the lines with a flourish no words could elicit. All your self-proclaimed flaws are null to the universe, your soul culminating as the true embodiment of pure perfection with flavorful cracks in the profile, cracks that you've offered to my pitiful soul, pristine ledges to hold on to as humanity crumbles from your grace. Oh, how if what you provide me with is god-like pity, how I want nothing more than for that bliss to fuel my burning heart, to further engulf my being with this feverish love, to only be quenched by your will.

Bertoldt - he’s shy, so his friends tell you for him

Look, really, no offense to Bertoldt, but, well, he never said a word. Which, like, what the hell? You could tell—or rather, you were pretty sure—he was into you by the way he tensed up when you were around, by the longing glances he’d cast your direction when you were nearby.

Holding conversations was difficult in an endearing way, because he was shy—painfully shy—around you, making small comments with a smile and pink cheeks, stuttering out small compliments and avoiding eye contact like he’d crossed a line (honestly you wished he’d crossed more).

You were starting to lose hope after months of talking led to little improvements, him still awkward around you, still not telling you how he really feels, if he likes you in that way. And like, how could you really be sure that he did if his hints were shit?

One day you receive a video message from Reiner, in it depicting Bertoldt and Porco sitting on a leather couch and talking—well, Porco wasn’t. Bertoldt was talking. A lot. About you. Talking about how you make him so nervous he freezes, how he finds you so attractive his body doesn’t know how to react, how he gets goosebumps on his neck at just the sound of your voice, how the secret love he had for you took up so much volume in his throat he couldn’t even speak or breathe near you.

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thydungeongal · 25 days ago

Note

out of curiosity, do you know of any games you’d consider legitimate ‘elf-kissing games?’ you know, high fantasy games that engender drama with mechanically explicit/reinforced relationship building systems?

besides d&d, of course. /s

Sadly I haven't found a perfect example of such a game: to me Monsterhearts is the best example of a TTRPG that centers romance and it is a perfect urban fantasy teenage monster romance game, but that disqualifies it on account of it not being high fantasy. Also, Monsterhearts' mechanics are very much about melodrama and like very petty, jealous, teenage romance, so it would not be the best for it.

Anyway, high fantasy intersects a bit with chivalric romances, and for that there's nothing better than Pendragon, a game of Arthurian chivalry in a setting that resolves the ahistoricity of Arthuriana by saying "well, Arthur was such a special guy that chivalry basically was real during his reign as king of Britain." It owns. Anyway, the game has actual mechanics for measuring characters' spiritual attributes, including their Passions, which covers things like strong feelings of hatred and love, so in that sense developing romantic feelings is mechanized and rewarded. Now, while knights doing quests is an important part of the gameplay, the game basically rewards characters for simply doing chivalric things, which means that besides doing quests knights are explicitly rewarded with Glory (the game's big reward currency) for engaging in romantic trysts. But sadly it isn't quite there because it is very heavily tied to a place and time, and I feel just transplanting the game into a fantasy setting would be doing it a huge disservice.

Which leads me to Mythras or RuneQuest 6th edition: basically the same game under two different names (Mythras is RQ6 rereleased after the creators lost the RQ licence). I won't go into the details but RuneQuest basically is part of the same lineage as Pendragon. Or they're like separate branches of the same tree. Anyway, somewhere along the way the creators of RuneQuest decided to basically borrow the idea of Passions into RuneQuest, and they serve pretty much the same mechanical purpose. The main issue is that while there are mechanical incentives for increasing a character's Passions (which works the same as increasing any other skill or attribute) they don't exactly represent relationships, as much as they represent internal emotions. Basically, a character's Passion of Love (Target of their affections) can be entirely one-sided. That's not to say that the system can't be worked to represent developing romantic relationships, but it's a bit of extra work (having said that: Mythras/RQ6 already is something of a "some assembly required" toolkit game, unlike the more recent RuneQuest: Roleplaying in Glorantha which is a very specialized game using the same engine, it's a whole thing). Mythras/RQ6 is a very traditional type of fantasy RPG but notably one where character growth isn't simply through becoming better at combat, and combat is somewhat disincentivized by the game. So it actually is a game that does wonders for romantic fantasy.

There's also Burning Wheel, which is a fun and gritty game, which has a system not unlike Passions in its BITs (Beliefs, Instincts, and Traits), but like Mythras/RQ Passions they are internal.

So I have yet to find the perfect elf-kissing game for myself, but if I had to choose I would personally pick Mythras: it is a very trad type of game concerned with verisimilitude above all else, but it has just enough tools for providing some mechanical grit to romantic relationships. In fact, when I first started reading it one of the first things I realized was "I would so much rather use this to run romantic fantasy than Blue Rose" (a romantic fantasy RPG powered by the Fantasy AGE system which suffers from the Fantasy AGE issue of ultimately being a D&D ass game with some light relationship mechanics on top).

Now having said all of that: there are hundreds of games out there that center romance, which I haven't mentioned here either because I'm not familiar enough with them or because they are not specifically high fantasy. But let me just rattle off a couple of those that I would love to play at some point: Star Crossed. Court of Blades. Eyes on the Prize. Heck, looking some more at the blurb of Court of Blades, it might actually be perfect for this ask, even though it is also like a general courtly intrigue game. Anyway, hope that's something.

#thydungeongal answers

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innocentsandsofdreams · 2 months ago

Text

John Price x Reader Head Canons

Tags: soft Price, Price x Reader, reader is not gender specified, slight birth description, reader is higher rank than 141

Word Count: 826

Any ageless or minor blogs DNI

SFW

Honestly, how you and John got together was comical. Laswell had to call you in for help (against everyone's choice) and you came.

During the mission, you and Price was a squad and no one (not even the both of you) knew what happened

An explosion was set off and you and John were sent flying; you landed on each other and rolled down a hill and you eventually stopped. You're on top of Price laying on him, inches from his face. How movie cliche is that?

John remarks "You know, the least you could do is ask a man to dinner before laying on 'im"

"Well how about after this mission, you pick a restaurant and I'll pay", you say playfully.

John actually took you up on your offer -against everyone's groans of "cheap cliche".

Now 10 years later; having been married for five years, people start asking "Oh have you thought about starting a family?"

Well, both of you thought of it. Both of you didn't know how to bring it up. Finally, it came to a boiling point

On a date in a park, you and Price laid on a blanket in the grass

Just listening to the laughter of parents with their children, surrounding the both of you

Both of you blurt out, "Do you want to have kids with me?"

A moment passed and you both laugh. Elated both of you want the same thing.

Interested, John suggests you both go home and start trying

NSFW

He's an old school gentleman; walks you home and cooks you, dinner. Price just overall set the mood- what a standup guy™

Afterwards Price led you to the bedroom. He takes his time with you. After this, he tries to take his time, but it doesn't work out that way

Mans eats you out like a munch if you will. Live and die in between your legs like a three-course meal. Price swallow your juices like it was a desert oasis

John slowly fingers you, not wanting to stop eating you out yet

It takes you 2 orgasms and a lot of begging for him to come around and fuck you. finally

Putting multiple pillows under you; John puts your legs on his shoulders and starts driving his cock into you with a goal in mind

After relentlessly abusing your soppy hole, Price fills you with his cum and he is so horny happy just from the thought of it

Multiple trysts of deep fuckings and quickies, having been fucked one last morning before the sun came up; your efforts came to fruition

PREGNANCY

John has you go to a med bay and do at home pregnancy tests religiously until finally one of the at home tests came back positive. He was so thrilled, that to make sure, you guys got medically checked out and the tests do not lie my dearheart; you are with child

John supports you through everything with the pregnancy; the sickness, the fainting spells, the cravings, the emotions. He's just happy to be with you

All though he never judges (or at least tries not to) he really does side eye the ice cream and pickle juice

[inserts meme of the girl staring at the man's chest with big side eyes]

That being said, Price went through it all with you. For you

John loves you and his baby so much, if he could stop the world he would

Near the end of your pregnancy gets very distressed and never lets you do anything. He's on everything like a HAWK

Being so close to your due date, you thought the baby would be late; but no, you were so wrong

Your water broke a week early, in the early morning

It's 3AM and John thought you might have wet the bed. In all honesty you did too.

Then the contractions started and both of you realized it was the amniotic fluid

Price having over prepared the hospital bag, (since you guys were first expecting) took you to the closest hospital

You are screaming and squeezing the hell out of Price's hand (poor hand) as he's driving

Upon arrival John miraculously carried you inside and got you a room before even thinking of moving the car and grabbing the bag

After being situated John goes and grabs everything and then goes and park the car. Upon return, the man got everything you ever needed and more

Need to move around? Man is getting you up. Need ice chips? Already in hand

Eventually choosing the process of water birth, John got in with you, behind you of course so he can take care of you

Hours go by and finally the baby arrives in this world

Having you hold the baby for only a moment, John let the nurses take the baby and helps you out the tub

He helped you get dressed and helped with getting into bed before bringing the baby to you

Having held his baby, he can't help but crawl in bed with you and hold the baby between the two of you

(he's definitely not crying - lying)

Man is in for a treat ✨😌

#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #lemon #n//sfw #john price #john price x reader #price x reader #captain john price #captain john price x reader

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angelasscribbles · 5 months ago

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What Happened in Vegas

Series: None, this is a one-shot and you can find those here.

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Riley x Liam x Drake

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: mature themes I guess

Word Count: 1,796

A/N: Credit/blame goes to @aussiegurl1234 for putting this in my head with the simple statement that the Vegas fling should have been a threesome. To be clear: There is no smut here, this isn't set in Vegas, but rather the aftermath and results of what happened.

My other stuff: Master List.

Liam's head guard entered the council chambers to whisper in the king's ear. "Sorry to interrupt, but the Duchess of Valtoria is asking to see you. She says it's important."

Riley was on the short list of people that had unrestricted access to him at all times. "Thank you, Alec." He nodded to dismiss the guard, then turned back to the council members. "Are we about done here?"

"Well, there was one last item—" The Earl of Dunwick pointed to the line item on the agenda about a proposed construction project and a lake full of some protected fish.

"Anything that can't wait until next week?"

"Well…. The project management company has been waiting for an answer for six months already…"

"So, what's one more week?" Liam grinned. "Meeting adjourned!"

The king of Cordonia damn near skipped through the halls to the private sitting room where the woman who made his heart beat was waiting.

His smile faltered when he found Drake waiting with her.

He had hoped Riley was there to spend some quality time with him. He didn't see her near as often as he would have preferred. Ever since the advent of her marriage to his best friend, their trysts had diminished. Not ended mind you, but it wasn't like it had been during the social season when they had been sneaking off every chance they got to the hedge maze, the rooftop, or an empty guest room.

Then the coronation debacle had happened and everything had gone sidewise.

He had hoped to be able to repair their relationship during the engagement tour and he had, to some extent.

Riley had told him up front when she started sleeping with Drake, but somehow, every time she reminded him of her new relationship, the two of them ended up in bed together. "I'm with Drake now, remember?" Always ended with her screaming his name.

Pushing his disappointment aside, he embraced and kissed her on the lips before turning to acknowledge Drake's presence. Greetings were exchanged, then he directed his attention back to Riley. "Not that I'm complaining, in any way, I am always happy to see you, but why are you here?"

Riley cut straight to the chase. "I think I'm pregnant. My period is late, and I can't remember if I had it last month or not." Life had been busy since assuming the mantle of Duchess and starting married life with Drake.

Liam did some quick backward math. His eyebrows shot up as he looked from her to Drake and back again. "Vegas?"

"Vegas," she nodded.

"So…whose is it?"

Riley threw her arms up in the air. "I don't know. Does it matter?"

"Of course it fucking matters, Riley!"

"Not to me it doesn't," Drake broke in. He moved closer so he could wrap both arms around his wife. Nuzzling into the side of her neck, he told her, "I love you either way."

"I didn't say I wouldn't still love her!" Liam exploded. "Don't put words in my mouth!"

"Oh, calm down," Riley admonished. "I don't even know if I'm pregnant yet. I thought you should both be here when I take the test, given that there's no way to know which one of you knocked me up."

Liam took a deep breath and tugged at his tie as mentally collected himself. An out of wedlock heir to the throne would be a scandal of epic proportions, but the thought was not entirely unwelcomed. "Right. Thank you for that. If this child is mine, I want to be involved every step of the way."

Riley gave him an affectionate smile. "See? I knew that, and that's why we're here, Right, babe?"

"Right." Drake released her and stepped back. "Are we sure it happened in Vegas? Because if it happened on our wedding night or during the honeymoon—"

"Or in the weeks leading up to the wedding?" Liam interjected. He had spent quite a bit of time helping the new duchess settle into her role. He had also helped her out of her clothes more often than not after a long day of diplomatic lessons.

Riley waved him off. "I had a period just before Vegas, that I remember. So if the baby is yours, it almost had to have happened in Vegas. After all, you were both inside me that night. When you weren't inside each other, that is." Her hand went to her mouth to stifle a giggle.

Drake's eyes met Liam's over the top of her head. Both men froze for a second as both faces flushed red, then both sets of eyes dropped quickly to the floor.

The night in Vegas had been wild, but they had never discussed it after the fact. Liam was out as bisexual, but it had been Drake's first and only experience with a man.

Drake was well aware of his wife's extracurricular activities with his best friend. He had no issues with it. In fact, images of Liam and Riley together fueled more of his fantasies than he liked to admit.

"Okay, I'm going to pee on this stick now!" She brandished it in front of them like a kid with a magic wand before disappearing into the attached bathroom.

The men made awkward small talk as they waited, both of them breathing out a sigh of relief when she returned, alleviating the danger of them having to address the elephant in the room, at least for the moment.

"Now we wait," she chirped. "Could one of you set a timer for two minutes?"

Liam had his phone out first. "Done!"

It was the longest two minutes of his life. He paced the floor, deep in thought as Riley and Drake sat on the settee, making plans for the weekend, laughing and touching each other frequently.

The timer dinged and all three heads snapped up. Three sets of eyes flitted from one person to the other to the bathroom door.

Riley stood and went to retrieve the answer to their question. She returned from the bathroom to both men's gazes locked on her with anticipation.

"The moment of truth…" she glanced down at the stick in her hand, feeling disappointment wash through her in place of the relief she had expected to feel. "It's negative. I'm not pregnant."

Drake's brows furrowed as he moved closer to her. "Are you okay? I thought that's the result you wanted, but you look sad."

Liam backed away from them. "I… just need a moment to process…"

He resumed his pacing as he grappled with an onslaught of mixed emotions.

No scandal, no awkward questions, no figuring out how to juggle schedules between three adults and two homes… but also no heir, no biological tie to the woman he loved, and no relief from the unrelenting pressure to marry and produce offspring. He stopped pacing and spun to face Drake. "Did you mean what you said earlier?"

"What did I say earlier?"

"That you didn't care whose baby it was."

"Right. Yeah…." Drake's eyes tracked from Liam to Riley and back again. "Why? There is no baby—"

"What if there were?"

Drake blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…." He crossed the room quickly and took Riley's hands in his. "Have a baby with me, Riley! On purpose!"

Giddiness bubbled up inside of her at the prospect. But he couldn't be serious, could he? "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Do you want to see me married to someone else?"

Riley's gaze slid to Drake as she considered if her answer would hurt him. But they had promised each other unrelenting honesty, no matter what. She returned her attention to Liam and shook her head.

"Then give me an heir so I don't have to marry…. Anyone, ever!"

"Is that even a thing that we can do?"

"Yes! It's not totally without precedence. I simply have to acknowledge the child and publicly legitimize him or her. Which I will!" He dropped down on one knee. "I know you're already married, but consider this an official proposal to be my royal consort. Openly. Move back to the palace. Take your rightful place by my side!"

Drake's throat cleared. "Um… hello? What are you doing?"

"Sorry!" Liam scrambled to his feet. "I may have gotten carried away there, but I'm serious. Do you honestly like living in Valtoria?"

"Not really," Drake admitted, "But I'd live in Antarctica if that's where my wife was."

"Then you're open to moving back home?"

A spark of jealousy flared through him, followed almost immediately by a pang of longing.

There was no doubt that he was in love with his wife. Helplessly, hopelessly, head over heels in love with her. But the night in Vegas had opened a door he had been avoiding peaking behind for his entire life, leaving him questioning the nature of his feelings for his best friend.

His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. "I… what exactly are you proposing? That my wife shacks up with you? Where does that leave me?"

"I'm sorry if I wasn't clear. I meant both of you."

Drake's entire body stilled as his mind raced to interpret Liam's meaning. "Both of us…. what?”

Liam shrugged. "Whatever you want, whatever you'll allow. I want you both to move in. We've already agreed to this situation we find ourselves in with Riley. We can continue as we are, with her splitting time between our bedrooms or…"

"Or?" Drake struggled to keep the note of hopefulness out of his voice, sure that everyone in the room could hear the pounding of his heart.

With a smirk, Liam moved closer to him. "Or you and I can continue what we started in Vegas and see where it goes."

Blood rushed to his face, heating his cheeks as he nodded, then looked away.

"Great!" Liam turned back to Riley. "You don't have to answer right now if you're not ready. Take your time and—"

"Yes! I'll do it! We'll move in, I'll be your consort, we can have a baby! As long as Drake is okay with all of it, that is."

"I'm okay with it."

Liam felt a rush of happiness crash over him. "Can you stay tonight? I'd like to start working on that baby right away."

"Oh, I don't know if—"

"It's okay," Drake assured her. "If you want to stay, I can go pack some of our clothes and—"

"Actually," Liam interrupted, "I was hoping you could join us."

Drake's eyes widened, slid down Liam's body, then closed as he drew in a deep, shuddering breath.

The trajectory of his life was about to change. And he couldn't wait to see where it would take him.

#trr #the royal romance #the royal romance fanfic #trr au #trr poly #liam rys #drake walker #choices #angelasscribbles #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #choices stories you play

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nohoney · 1 year ago

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sweetness could we please get a drabble of reader convincing c&c!touya to drop the ciggs just so he can breed her? mwah

u guys have been making me swoon over breeding kink touya, i love it! kisses for all of you mwah mwah (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ ) ♡

“Mmkay, bye. Lemme know if you need anything from me.” you kiss your sister on the cheek before leaning over and cooing over the baby on her hip, “And I’ll miss you, baby girl! Start calling me auntie soon, okay?”

Touya shakes hands with your brother in law, already having given your sister a small side hug and said his own little, less cutesy goodbye to your niece. The two of you get into the car, Touya opening your door first and telling you to watch your feet before he closes it. You wave to your sister and her baby, blowing a little air kiss as your sister assists her baby in waving her arm back at you.

The house gets farther in the distance and you lean back against your seat, glancing over to Touya as he pops a cigarette into his mouth. Without even looking, he easily grabs the lighter inside the cup holder and lights up the tip of the cigarette. He’s quick to lower the window, the smoke barely having a chance to fill the car.

“God that’s good.” Touya mutters after taking a drag and then letting his hand hang out the window. You can’t help but laugh a little at him, not quite understanding the fix for nicotine since you’d never been a regular smoker. He had at least been good and held off from lighting up at all since he was accompanying you to visit your sister.

“Addict.” you quip at your boyfriend, smacking his hand away when he attempts to poke at your side to tickle you. “Seriously though, thanks for holding back so that you could come with me. I appreciate it.”

Touya hums, coming to a slow stop a red light and takes in another drag. “You’re welcome.”

The car ride back to your home is silent between the two of you for the next few minutes. You shuffle through your songs, unable to decide what playlist you want to listen to through the bluetooth and just set it on a random music station. It still plays in your mind how cute and soft your little niece was, holding her in your arms and so in awe how she laughed when you laughed at her and how her hand gripped around your finger before trying to put it in her mouth.

Even later on when you’re back home, coming down from getting railed on the couch, the visit still lingers on your mind. Touya covers you up with the throw blanket, leaning down to kiss your forehead before going out to the balcony with his pack and a lighter.

You watch him from your spot on the couch, curling up as your longtime boyfriend inhales his favorite habit. He stands with his back to you, looking over the view as he always does. Touya held your niece during the visit too, looking comfortable with her in his arms before you remember that he’s the oldest of his siblings so he obviously knows how to handle a baby.

He stubs out the cigarette onto the ash tray and when he slides the glass door open, he’s barely taken one step inside when you ask, “You ever think about having kids?”

Touya doesn’t seem surprised by your question, snorting at it even as he walks past you to go wash his hands at the kitchen sink. “Getting that baby fever after seeing your sister?”

“Er well, not really? I’m not saying that I want one for sure,” you reach down to the floor and starting pulling on your clothes that he had flung off you during the horny tryst, “but just need to know if it’s in the books for us probably.”

He’s wiping his hands on the dish towel as he responds to you, “Yeah, it’s popped up a few times. Just didn’t want to bring it up unless you did first.”

Okay, it’s nice to know that you weren’t alone on the subject. “Well you know that if we do then we’d both have to make changes, not just me.”

“I know.” Touya agrees with you as he comes back to the couch, sitting on the other end of it since it feels like the kind of conversation that requires him to sit across from you.

“So if you know then if let’s say we did,” you stress that it’s only a possibility, “I’d want you to quit smoking.” It’s unsurprising that he makes a face but you don’t take it personally. If anything, it was expected but you don’t want this to spiral into a fight.

Touya sighs at first but follows it up with a shrug, “I figured as much. But that’s not coming for a while, we’ve barely just moved in together.”

You agree with him, nodding your head and folding up the blanket since you were clothed and didn’t need it for modesty anymore. “It’s not, and like I said I’m only saying if we do then you know what I expect from you. Besides, if you drop the smoking then maybe I’ll consider letting you cum in my mouth.”

“If we’re trying for a baby, I need to cum in your pussy. What’s offering your mouth gonna do for trying to knock you up?”

“It’s not gonna do anything, I’m just also saying that my mouth can be an option again.” You point out, “if you quit smoking and we start trying for a baby, you’ll at least get to do it before I actually end up pregnant.”

Your boyfriend had been a smoker before the two of you were together and combined with the fact that he liked his coffee, you weren’t exactly happy with the taste of him the first time and only time you let him finish in your mouth. Okay, you’re getting off track and maybe using the wrong reasons in this conversation.

“Look, I’m just saying maybe if we plan I’d like us to be in the best condition possible to be pregnant.”

Your birth control so far has done its job and you’re grateful because no way in hell were you ready for a baby anytime soon. But the thought of being off of it one day and letting Touya cum in you to have a baby brings a little tingle in your body.

“Relax doll, I don’t love smoking more than I love you if that’s what you’re getting at. I understand that if we’re gonna plan for a kid, I know what you want from me and I’m not disagreeing with you. Okay?”

You nod your head, at least secure that he’s in agreement with you. So you decide after this to lay off the baby talk for a while. But later on Touya surprises you, coming up behind you and playfully bending you over after you finish patting your serums and moisturizer into your skin. He nips at your ear and his hands go under the night shirt your wear to grope at your tits.

“We don’t have to talk about having babies again for a while, but I’m not against practicing on how to make one in the meantime.”

You don’t speak of making babies, but Touya’s mind does run a little rampant at the idea of breeding you for the next few weeks since you had brought it up. He doesn’t say anything to you, indulging in his imagination more, thinking how much he’d like to tell you that he wants to fill you up and hear you beg for a baby.

And afterwards, he indulges in his smokes knowing that one day it’ll be a permanent goodbye when it’s the right time.

#dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #dabi fluff

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olympeline · 4 months ago

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(Oh dear, I wrote something from my omegaverse scotfruk scenario! 🫣)

The sudden clang and crash of metal on stone behind him made Alasdair start so badly that he upended his inkwell. Black splattered all over his desk and the papers covering it, and - just like that - an entire evening’s worth of work went down the drain. Alasdair swore and whirled around in his seat. Only to see a familiar culprit: staring stupidly at the tray of supper he’d just dropped as if he had no idea how it got there. Alasdair’s temper flared. A common occurrence around this particular member of his household.

“Arthur! You fucking dolt!”

Of course it was Arthur. Who else would it be? The Englishman had been a burr under Alasdair’s saddle ever since he’d found and dragged him out of the mud and blood of the battlefield. Back then it felt wonderfully amusing to sentence a high-born, sassenach knight to the life of a common house-slae. Yet at times like these it seemed Arthur was the one having the last laugh. His sheer ineptitude as a servant paired with Alasdair’s blood pressure might just end up finishing the Scottish laird off where a storm of enemy blades had failed.

“Can’t ye do the simplest thing? Is holding on to a fucking tray just too difficult a concept for your fine, Southern self?”

Alasdair expected Arthur to snarl back. Still feisty after all this time, even Alasdair had to admire his spirit. Threats, harsh words, nights spent in the stocks and the dungeon: none had tamed Arthur as they would most captives. Licks with the whip and crop to his back and backside had made him behave, but only grudgingly. Replacing quick fists with caustic words, Arthur still met Alasdair’s hot temper head on more often than not. Ordinarily Alasdair didn’t mind half so much as he let on. He was a fighter at heart who loved a good sparring session - verbal or otherwise - and there weren’t many who were willing to be sharp with a king in his own castle.

Today wasn’t an ordinary day, worse luck for Arthur. Alasdair’s temper was hotter than usual and his patience was stretched razor thin. It wasn’t anything Arthur had done to erode his laird’s nerves. Rather it was the scent that was bothering Alasdair. A scent that had been in his castle for the last few days: faint, elusive, and absolutely maddening. An omega was nearing their heat, probably their first for the pre-heat pheromones to be that strong, and Alasdair’s mood had been thunderous since he first noticed. It wasn’t the poor sod’s fault, whoever he or she was, but Alasdair felt like strangling them even so. It wasn’t his rut but he still needed Francis morning, noon, and night and had to consciously hold back so he didn’t hurt his husband during the frenzied lovemaking. Francis, bless his heart, had taken the trysts with enthusiasm and understanding but Alasdair’s conscience still pained him. He shouldn’t be reacting this strongly to an omega who he wasn’t mated to. Least of all one who was probably little more than a frightened stripling. Francis was a beta and Alasdair hadn’t bedded an omega since their wedding, but still. He’d thought his self-control better than that. The guilt and disgust on top of the pheromone frenzy set Alasdair’s temper fraying till it was threadbare.

So when Arthur didn’t reply and made no move to clean up the mess he’d made, Alasdair saw an opportunity for some much needed release.

“Arthur! Have you lost what little wits you have? Arthur - damn you - look at me!”

Still no response. Alasdair rose from his chair so violently that it toppled. The resulting crash was what got a reaction from Arthur at long last. He flinched and then finally looked up at Alasdair, blinking like a startled bairn caught with their hand in the sugar store. Alasdair squared up and braced for the bout he was sure was coming.

“I…sorry,” Arthur mumbled. “I didn’t mean to, Ala - Lord Alasdair. I’ll clean it…”

Alasdair stared at him. That was not the reaction he’d expected. Since when did his captive speak to him like an actual servant? Usually his tongue was more jaded than his eyes. Wrong footed, Alasdair watched Arthur sink to the ground with none of the grace expected from a trained fighting man. Watched and took in Arthur’s appearance. It was winter and the air in the study was chilly in spite of the fire roaring in the great grate. Yet Arthur’s face was flushed, his straw coloured hair lay damp and limp against his skull, and his skin glowed by the fire’s light. Scarlet cheeked and unsteady, he’d slurred through his short speech like he had a mouthful of marbles. As if he were -

Alasdair anger ratcheted right back up then carried on for another few notches.

“You little - ! You’re drunk!”

Arthur looked up and shook his head, moving sluggishly as if he were underwater.

“No, I’m not.”

“You are! Don’t lie to me!”

“I’m not drunk!”

Arthur glared at him for a moment, a spark of his usual fire on display at last. Then he shook his head once more, lowered his gaze again, and went back to listlessly cleaning up the smashed plates. Alasdair noticed he kept one palm braced against the flagstones through all this. As if worried the simple movements might overwhelm his balance.

“I’m not drunk, lord. Just - just tired. Let me work and I’ll leave you in peace. Be better tomorrow…”

Arthur was mumbling again by the end of his proclamation. He bowed his head further and Alasdair saw the muscles of his shoulders go taut. Trying to pull himself together? Alasdair wouldn’t give him the chance. Arthur had cheeked him like this once before. Early on in his servitude when their shared antipathy was sharpest and Arthur went out of his way to show Alasdair his contempt any way he could. One day he’d stolen a bottle of the laird’s personal stash of whisky and got himself legless just in time for some important guests to arrive and see one of their king’s household drunk off his arse. Alasdair had paid him back for the humiliation by waiting until Arthur’s hangover peaked, then whipped that arse raw in front of those same guests. Followed up by a night in the stocks. The message seemed to have sunk in since Arthur hadn’t tried anything like that again. Until now, apparently. Well, if he truly wanted a repeat of his first learning experience, Alasdair would be happy to oblige. He stalked across the room and seized Arthur by the bicep. Alasdair ignored the hiss of pain and curse thrown his way, and hauled Arthur to his feet. He gripped the smaller man and gave him a rough shake that made Arthur sway so dizzily Alasdair knew he’d fall flat on his face if he let go. The thought was tempting but Alasdair resisted.

“You shameless sot! I’ll teach you to lie through your fucking teeth to me in my own house!”

“Get off me!” Arthur yelled, voice hoarse.

He tried to shove Alasdair away but the attempt was pathetic. Alasdair made a noise of contempt and Arthur’s flush darkened even as he continued to struggle weakly, chest heaving with the effort. Alasdair watched a bead of sweat run down from Arthur’s face and pool at his collarbone.

“I’m not drunk, you - you fool! I haven’t touched a drop all day!”

“Ha! Bastard, don’t make me laugh! I can smell it…on…”

Alasdair frowned, suddenly perturbed. Arthur was still trying to escape and panting hard with it. Nearly nose to nose as they were, Alasdair was close enough to feel Arthur’s hot breath against his face. Feel it, smell it, and detect no trace of alcohol whatsoever. What the fuck?

“See?”

Arthur glared at up him, a note of triumph in his voice. Obviously he’d noticed just what Alasdair had.

“I told you, I’m not drunk. So let me go!”

Arthur wriggled and tried to pull back but Alasdair held on. He shuffled their positions - ignoring Arthur’s litany of protests, insults, and name-calling - so one hand was free. Then Alasdair pinched the corner of his leather gauntlet with his teeth and pulled it off. He laid a hand on Arthur’s damp forehead and felt his stomach plunge unpleasantly.

“You’re burning,” Alasdair said. “Fuck. You’re burning alive, you stupid fool. Why didn’t you say anything?”

He felt his temper spike once more but this time from anger born of worry. Alasdair wanted to shake Arthur all over again for being such an idiot. He loosened his grip and held him more gently instead. No wonder Arthur was acting so strangely: his wits had been half burned away by fever.

Arthur, for his part, grimaced and turned his face away from Alasdair’s accusatory glare.

“I said I was tired-”

“Tired?”

“For God’s sake, don’t take on so!” Arthur tried to snap but the ever present slur ruined it. “It’s nothing! None of your damn business, lord Alasdair. Like I keep saying, let me go and sleep and I’ll be right as rain by morning.”

“For fuck’s-”

Alasdair shut his eyes for a moment and tried again. He wouldn’t castigate someone when he wasn’t himself, even a someone as maddening as Arthur. It was beneath Alasdair as a man and a king both.

“You’re sick, Arthur. You’re not thinking straight. Come on, put your arm around my neck. I’m taking you to…”

The sentiment was destined to go unfinished. As Alasdair tried to change their positions again and get Arthur to lean on him - ignoring the blonde’s comical squawks of protest - he suddenly froze. Froze because he noticed, though “noticed” may not have been a strong enough descriptor. No, it would be fairer to say the abrupt revelation hit Alasdair like a thunderclap and sent his higher thoughts into a tale spin. The scent - that wicked, pre-heat scent that had driven Alasdair to distraction worse than his most potent rut - was back with a vengeance. Getting stronger as it finally tipped over and bloomed into the scent of full-blown heat. Alasdair’s breathing turned ragged and his cock stiffened painfully. He licked his lips and ground his teeth to stop them clacking together like a starving dog faced with a dripping lump of meat. It was all he could do not to drool. The elusive source of the scent, Alasdair had found them at last. Quite literally under his nose.

“Alasdair, what-?”

The voice seemed to come from a different world yet it still woke Alasdair up from his momentary stupor even so. Arthur yelped with a mixture of surprise and pain as Alasdair jerked him closer than ever, breath hot against the knight’s throat. He heard Arthur gasp and felt him buck and squirm as Alasdair licked him in that sainted, sordid place where neck and shoulder joined. Where alphas gave mating bites to their chosen omegas. Arthur’s skin was smooth and unmarked and Alasdair could taste the pheromones on him under the sweat salt. The alpha’s teeth chattered and he felt his cock twitch and throb, leaking a pearly bead to stain his smalls. The scent was stronger than ever and Alasdair wanted to devour its source alive. He licked Arthur again and then nipped him, making the blonde cry out and jerk.

“Stop! Stop it, damn you! You bastard, you’re married!”

It was about the only thing that could have broken through Alasdair’s haze. Francis’s face appeared in his mind’s eye and he shivered, desire coagulating with guilt. His grip loosened and Arthur seized the opportunity to bring a fist up and punch Alasdair as hard as he could. Which wasn’t very in his state but it was just enough to make Alasdair rear back and release him from the sudden sharp shock.

Arthur staggered back and slumped against the wall, struggling to stay upright on legs that shook like a newborn foal’s. Alasdair’s eyes bored into him and Arthur tried to glare back defiantly. Only to shudder and look away, submissively lowering his gaze as instinct got the better of him. Alasdair’s lust spiked higher still. When Arthur shifted, he could see how tight the front of his britches had become.

“S-stay away from me,” Arthur gasped. “What the hell are you thinking? Get back!”

“You’re in heat,” Alasdair said.

Arthur screwed his eyes shut and shook his head.

“You’re insane. You’ve gone mad, you bastard! I’m a beta!”

“You’re in heat,” Alasdair repeated. “I can smell you. You’re an omega, Arthur. A late bloomer.”

Arthur just went on shaking his head. He only looked at Alasdair again when the other man fell silent. When he did, Alasdair saw his pupils were so blown the green looked almost black.

“No, you’re wrong. I’m just…just sick today. You were right, I’ve got a fever. All right? That’s all it is!”

“Sick?” Alasdair snorted with disbelief. “Don’t be the idiot I know ye are, sassenach! You think you can fool an alpha’s nose? You are an omega. You are in heat!”

“Fuck you. I’m no fucking omega - hey! No! Don’t-! Nnngg…”

Arthur had no hope of escape when Alasdair lunged and grabbed him again. Wiry, strong, and deadly with a sword, Arthur was still no match for Alasdair’s raw strength on his best day. With his first heat hitting him like a South-bound runaway carriage, he couldn’t have broken Alasdair’s grip if his life depended on it. Leaving Alasdair free to palm the wicked spot on his neck and then pinch in a way he knew would undo any omega.

The effect on Arthur was instantaneous: he gasped and moaned, eyelids fluttering, lithe body going loose and sagging against Alasdair. Who massaged the spot long enough to make his point - long enough to be just a little cruel - then let go. This time Arthur didn’t pull away. Alasdair could feel him shaking. Smell the first slick starting to run down Arthur’s thighs. Which sent Alasdair’s already stretched self-control past breaking point. His cock throbbed and he wanted to throw Arthur to the flagstones and fuck him without mercy. Grind the Englishman down and wreck him till Arthur was incapable of anything other than sobbing Alasdair’s name and begging for his knot and his mark. In that moment, Alasdair wanted Arthur like he’d never wanted anything in his life. It would be so easy to have him too, whether Arthur wanted it or not. He was reeling from what his body was doing: drowning in heat and hormones, and so very vulnerable. Not to mention Arthur was no more than a foreign born house-slae while Alasdair was a king in his own castle. Who would stop him? He could do as he pleased.

“Alasdair…” He’d never heard such a begging tone from one usually so haughty. “Stop, please. Please, please…”

What was Arthur asking for by the end? Leaning into Alasdair’s touch, chasing the feel of his calloused palm against his spot even as he pleaded for mercy. The heat was getting stronger and Arthur’s wits would be gone soon. He’d be a mewling mess with all pride and inhibitions burnt away. But they’d return once the fire cooled. Alasdair shut his eyes and thought again of Francis. Forced his basest urges back under control through sheer strength of will. No, Alasdair would not do that to Arthur. He was no barbarian. When he next touched Arthur it was to soothe rather than ravish. Alasdair stroked his hair and rubbed his back, letting Arthur press against him and feeling him shudder.

“It’s okay. Breathe, just breathe. I’ve got you.”

“I’m not,” Arthur’s voice was broken, his considerable pride in tatters. “I’m not an omega, Alasdair. I’m not. I’m not…”

“Shh…”

Arthur’s breath hitched and he covered his face with a hand that trembled. Alasdair kissed his throat, then threw Arthur over his shoulder. The younger man didn’t protest. Which was good since Alasdair would not have heeded him if he had. There was no way in blackest hell he would allow Arthur near anyone else until all this was over. The very thought of him walking the palace corridors in his state and potentially encountering other alphas made Alasdair snarl.

He would take Arthur to the royal chambers and leave him with Francis. Francis, who would know what to say. Francis, who was better with these kinds of situations than Alasdair was. Francis, who was a beta and so no threat to Arthur while he was heat stricken. If nothing else, Arthur would be safe there in their bed until his heat was over. Safe from alphas who might do him harm.

“Come on, sassenach. I’ll take you to Fran.”

Meanwhile, Alasdair would spend the night in his study. Perhaps that ruined paperwork had been a blessing in disguise after all. He had little faith sleep would come to him after everything that had happened.

#hetalia #scoteng #scotfruk #scotfra #hws scotland #hws england #hws france #aph scotland #aph england #aph france #my fanfiction #my posts #omegaverse

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cheatingwifelover · 2 months ago

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Girl's Trip Really A Cheating Trip

I wrote previously about my wife and her married friend Darla and a couple of oil field workers they met in a club on their “shopping weekend” in San Antonio. My wife thought that weekend was it, but she didn't know that Darla had kept in contact with them ever since. She had been trying to arrange another tryst with them for months but it there was always a conflict of one kind or another and it was a good seven months before she was finally able to see the way to another get together.

She told my wife her plan. Darla had a very good friend from college she hadn't seen in a long time. She lived in Houston and was getting married again near the end of the upcoming month to what would be her third husband. She had been in contact with their oil field guys ever since that weekend and both guys were hot to hook up with her and my wife again. It just so happened they were going to be off during the week prior to the wedding.

Darla's hubby would be gone out of state for training and she figured I wouldn't want to spend a whole week of my vacation time for a wedding when I didn't even know the people involved, so it was the perfect opportunity to claim they were going to combine some shopping in the “big city,” hang out with her old friend, help with her wedding preps, and attend the wedding. My wife had her doubts...she wasn't sure she wanted to hook up with them again, wasn't really interested in attending a wedding, and since Houston was only three hours from where we lived, thought an entire week away like that carried too much risk of raising questions and getting caught.

Darla had been trying to make something happen for months so she wasn't about to give up on the plan and set about trying to persuade my wife, even badgering her into going if that is what it took to convince her. She almost ran out of time but in the end she eventually got her way. They told me they planned to leave early on a Monday morning, stay for some shopping, wedding activities, and just general hanging out, and drive home Friday evening after the wedding.

My wife knew full well I'd decline to go, so she told me I was welcome to come along but would understand if I wasn't interested and didn't want to use my vacation time. She said since I'd be working all those days while they were gone and have to watch the kids at night, I'd barely have time to miss her. I had no reason to be suspicious and was actually relieved that she didn't push me to go with her so I gave her my blessing for the trip. I even agreed to pay half the hotel bill for her and her friend Darla to share a room, Darla's hubby making up the other half.

I'd have never guessed or even imagined that I'd also be paying for their fuck buddies. It was quite a shock, though I can't now say an unpleasant one, to learn recently that my wife told them that since their husbands were paying for the hotel room they were going to need to wear the beds out.

One of the guys responded with something like “baby, we're not only going to wear the beds out, we're going to wear those married pussy's out too.”

Darla replied, “we're going to take that as a promise, so you'd better be up to it.”

Darla and my wife had agreed before they left that this was probably going to be the only time they could get away for several days like this so they needed to make the most of it. If they wanted to try something new they would try it, if they had fantasies it was possible to experience they would indulge them, and they would do their best to help the guys live out their fantasies, but no scat, no golden showers, and no ass to mouth.

When they checked into the motel they told the desk clerk that their husbands would be coming later in the afternoon and instructed him to give them their room number and send them up. They weren't waiting long before the guys showed up and were hot to get started. The wives had brought a couple bottles of vodka with them and had already started drinking before they arrived and were ready to go too.

They started making out and soon both Darla and my wife were kneeling side by side sucking cock. But this time they were all together in one room and it wasn't long before they guys wanted to sample each other's girl, so they told the wives to switch so they could determine which one was the best cocksucker. They agreed it was my wife and even Darla concurred.

The guys didn't want to cum before they'd had some pussy, and OOW (the other oilfield guy from the first trip) pleaded that he would be cumming down my wife's throat shortly if she didn't stop --and he wanted to fuck her. They had welcomed the guys into the room dressed in mini skirts, hose, and heels, and were still dressed when they were pulled up to the bed on their backs, again, side by side. Their pantyhose were crotchless and they must have looked sexy and beautiful with their skirts up to their waists and their cum fuck me heels in the air as they welcomed those hot cocks back into their married cunts.

After everyone had cum at least once the girls said they'd spent a lot of time getting dressed and putting their makeup on, so how about getting out and about before they settled down in the room for the night. One of the guys drove, while the other was in the back seat with both wives, making out, getting his cock sucked, and fingering pussy. OW was driving and said he knew where there was a good adult bookstore with gloryholes, asked if the wives had ever been to one –they hadn't-- and if they'd like to check it out –they would.

The place was pretty crowded for a Monday afternoon and they had to wait a bit for an empty booth. The booths were too small for four people so they split up. OW stood and fed quarters into the video player while my wife sat and sucked his cock, and before long, there was a cock poking through the gloryhole and he told her he wanted to see her suck it. The guy didn't last long at all and OW slipped quickly out of the booth and told a very embarrassed guy to pass the word around that there was a wife in the booth sucking cock.

Word apparently did get around because it wasn't long before another cock was poking through the hole and my wife was sucking strange cock number two. Darla meanwhile was taking care of the line up in another booth. My wife lost track of time sucking cock after cock for so long that OW had to leave the both three times to get more quarters for the video player. At one point he started inviting a guy here and there into the booth and watched him fuck my wife while she took care of cocks at the gloryhole. She doesn't know now how many cocks she sucked or even how many fucked her but she does know she swallowed a lot of cum. When pressed she says probably 4 different guys fucked her and she must have sucked at least 20 cocks.

When they finally left her jaws were sore, her stomach was queasy, and she felt completely debauched and degraded, a feeling she didn't particularly care for. Darla hadn't taken as much cock but she was also feeling used and unloved and they both wanted to just go back to the motel room and soak in the tub for awhile. It was quiet in the car on the way back and a little awkward since they only had one room and they asked the guys to go entertain themselves while they took the room and recovered.

They soaked in the tub keeping the water nice and hot, and considered if they'd let things go too far and should ask the guys to leave. They decided what was done was done, wouldn't be repeated, and they would stay and do what they'd been planning to do and agreed to, but they'd take it easy for the rest of the night. The guys returned, they all went to dinner, then came back to the room, drank and made out and fell asleep. My wife had gone to sleep with OW but woke up to him and Darla in the next bed and OOW in bed with her. When he saw she was awake he began sucking on her tits and fingering her pussy while she watched her friend making love right across from her.

When they finished Darla looked over at my wife and told her it was their turn to watch her and her new lover, and for the rest of the week they both kept their new partners. They had all slept late and by the time they'd finished it was time for lunch. They went out for the afternoon shopping, the guys watching them try on clothes.

A salesgirl at one store asked if the husbands had any thing they'd like to see on their wives and Darla shocked everyone by saying, “oh honey, our husbands are back home working to pay the rent, these are our boyfriends.”

At the next store she asked if their husbands could come back to their dressing room so they didn't have to keep coming back out into the store every time they tried on something new. This time the salesgirl was shocked when she brought something for my wife to try on to the dressing room and found her riding her “husband's” cock. My wife told her to just put it on the hook and she'd try it on after she'd tried the clothes she already had. The salesgirl was clearly flustered by took it all in stride. As they left my wife told her “sorry, we're on our honeymoon, it's all a little new.”

That night at the motel the guys asked the girls to put on a show for them and they did. They made out, sucked each other tits, fingered each other, and finally ate each other's pussy's for the first time. OOW fucked my wife while she ate Darla's pussy and the OW fucked Darla while she ate my wife. That drove the guys nuts and they asked to see it over and over again throughout the week.

The next night they guys took turns dp-ing and spit-roasting them and watching them do each other in between fucks while they recovered for the next round. The night after that when my wife called I had no idea both guys were taking turns in her ass while we talked and she told me how much her and Darla appreciated being able to take their trip, how much they were enjoying themselves, and how much she loved me.

Their last night together they went out clubbing and the girls drew a crowd making out with each other in the club. Back at the motel things were really heating up and OOW told my wife he loved her as they fucked.

She responded with something like “oh, baby, I love you too, let's make love together.”

He asked her, “what about your husband,” and she said “I love him too, but he can't make love to me like you do.”

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raeuberprinzessin · 7 months ago

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Swapping diamonds for pearls

Maribat, Merfolk AU, Felinette, Fantasy AU, Marinette gets adopted by the Batfam, No Miraculous AU:

The setting is a town on the coast. To ensure the goodwill of the sea gods, the town sacrifices one of their young people to the sea, when the signs show it's time for a sacrifice. It's been a few decades since the last sacrifice when Marinette suddenly feels inexplicably drawn to the ocean. She wakes up at night hearing songs and finds herself at the shore without memory how she got there several times.

One of the things she can't remember, because humans forget their encounters with merfolk, is how she helped a young mer protect a baby seal.

That young mer is Damian, who took a liking to the girl who protected the pup of his favourite seal. So he decided to claim her as part of his pod, not knowing that it starts a transformation process.

Marinette was engaged to Adrien, but she more and more feels that this is wrong and when her behaviour is noticed, the priestess declares it's a sign that it's time for a sacrifice and Marinette has been chosen as the sacrifice. At that point she breaks off the engagement. She gives Adrien the diamond ring back and wears jewellery with pearls which declares her as the sacrifice.

Felix, Adrien's cousin and the young lord of the town starts researching in his library. Secretly he's in love with Marinette, but he also loves his cousin and since Marinette is one of the few people Adrien could be himself around, he didn't interfere, but encouraged Adrien to propose. He tries to find anything to reverse the signs, but he also doesn't wish to evoke the sea gods' wrath. He has to think about his subjects. If they can't fish as much anymore, it would be devastating for the town.

He finds out, that the sacrifices turn into merfolk and the only way to stop this is, to convince the mer who claimed a human to give up their claim. But Felix is too late and Marinette has already been sacrificed.

At sea she is soon found by Tim, who claimed the last sacrifice, Cass. He was once a sacrifice himself and figures out what happened (mainly) and brings her to the pod. Damian confesses he claimed her, not knowing it would transform her. He did it, because he thought it would protect her. Bruce explains, that they usually claim humans who don't have anything keeping them on land. Often orphans or, like in Tim's case, children who are neglected or abused by their parents. But a pod can only claim a human every 15 to 25 years, because the successful transformation takes energy from the whole pod.

Marinette had connections on land and she has a hard time giving up on them. But it's not reversible and she likes her pod and befriends mers from other pods.

One day she finds Felix in a boat suspiciously close to the small island the pod lives around and hears him yelling for her. The pod is a bit annoyed, because although they keep sharks away and help with fishing, sink pirate ships and bring survivors of sinking ships to the shore, invading their home is something they really don't like.

Marinette shows herself, to convince him to leave, but because he forgets the encounter, he's back the next day. This time Marinette drags his boat to a hidden beach and writes in the sand to only meet her here, so even if he would forget their encounters, he could still read the message. They figure out a system. He takes something to write with him, so he can write down, what happend and he can read it again after he forgets what they talked about.

During these meetings they get closer and finally Marinette falls in love with Felix. At first Felix felt conflicted and wanted to tell Adrien, but Adrien didn't want to hear anything about Marinette and after Felix found Adrien and one of his warriors, Kagami, at a tryst, he decided, that it would be better this way.

After they kiss, they find out that now Felix can remember their talks.

Felix starts to wonder if they can have a future when his mother urges him to find a bride, someone to share the burden of reigning over the town with. But either he has to cheat on the woman he loves and his wife or he has to end things with Marinette or he has to defy his mother and sooner or later the court or even his king for the rest of his life. So, he starts to research again, but he only finds out, that the transformation can only be stopped and reversed as long as the person isn't really part of a pod.

Marinette knows it's irreversible. The only option she can see is, if he wasn't lord anymore, but she thinks she can't ask that of him, so she looks into potions to make him forget her entirely.

This is what she's busy with, while her friends band together and find Felix waiting for Marinette at the beach. Felix decided on his own to give the title to Adrien and step down, so he wouldn't have to leave Marinette. He wanted to tell her but only finds mers he only knows of from Marinette's stories. They offer him that one of them could claim him, since Marinette's pod can't do so, but it's not the only pod out there. True, the other pods have their own territories, but they are close enough to befriend each other. They only ask him to be sure this is what he wants. It is.

So, in the end they can still have a happy ever after 😊

#maribat #felinette #mlb x dc #Merfolk AU #MerMay #miraculous ladybug #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat felix graham de vanily

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aconflagrationofmyown · 2 years ago

Text

Three Way Script

A Sarge and lil Mama fic

Warnings: rather angsty and with some strong language -but with a load of gentleness and love thrown in as is typical with this universe, please note the subjects covered here relate to infidelity and the death of an infant. Everyone herein is coping and not in a very tidy way but they’re tryin’.

Note: this is written in experimental first person view from Ann-Margret’s perspective. I’ve zero intention to vilify anyone and even had a little bit of qualms regarding using her in this at all. As is, I’m creating more of a character for her in the form of “Thumper” and her dynamic with the fictional Presley’s than any true resemblance to the lady herself. Cheers 💋

Dedicated to sweet @ab4eva who loves her hot tamale

Circa: summer of ‘63 on the set of Viva Las Vegas

It was a dark and deathly quiet quarter to four in the morning. I’d just been decked in the face by a sleepwalking Elvis Presley for trying to wake him up. Face throbbing, nerves strained from our undefined tryst, I clumsily chased him as he wandered outside, strangely stubborn in his unconscious quest for air, or space, or -her.

I didn’t know the etiquette for this, for any of it. I’d told him just that as he, a married man of such notoriety, pressed his lips against mine and told me that we had a connection.

He and I.

As if I couldn't feel it thrumming and seething and tugging between us during every scene and more concerning still, in the lulls between, in the quiet and unpretentious moments of rest when it wasn’t our characters, when it was just us. When he admitted to being gutted by the loss of his child, estranged from his ever-ebullient wife in her own bereavement, envious of his son, not even four years old, who occupied his space in her bed and took comfort from her body while he was obliged to dance and sing his way to another hit as if he wasn’t fragmented by the grief of it all.

“I thought you’d be all tough n’shit, a real firecracker.” he’d breathed with immense relief after uncovering that gooey, soft, vulnerable place inside of me that something about his grief and his hollow smirk and his lonesomeness had almost immediately unleashed in my soul. That urge to comfort, to assure him he wasn’t going out on a limb, it had me spending my days making a fool of myself for him.

Yet it seemed the price for such misplaced loyalty and pleasure was about to be extracted as I trailed him, calling out to him in vain, ignoring my aching jaw in an attempt to stall his sleepwalking, quelling the panic I felt at what must be done.

His guys didn’t know he was here with me and I wasn’t sure if I should tell them anyway, though I would have at this crucial point if I could have found or telephoned any of them. Tell them he was about to wander bare as the Lord made him into the studio lot.

I had to spare her that at least.

I had to call Graceland.

When I had entered my studio apartment earlier that evening Elvis had been sat in the kitchenette chair, twirling the landline cord around his finger, feet propped up on the Formica table, perfectly at home in my space, saying his goodbyes to a child or four. He gave me a dazzling smile as I stepped over my own threshold yet held up his finger for silence in my own space as he finished speaking with his family.

“Your phone ain’t bugged like mine is.” he had said casually by way of explanation for his entitlement to my rented room and then took me in his arms. I’d forgotten to press my point regarding privacy and rumors after that.

Now I fumbled the receiver off its hook and with all the cold, dreading heroism of a soldier launching a nuclear missile, I pushed redial.

One of the Presley cousins answered, I calculated the truth would get me where I needed fastest, so I said outright “Elvis is sleep walking on the lot and no one knows how to wake him”.

I was asked to hold and about twenty seconds later the receiver picks up again and this woman’s soft drawl comes over,

“Thumper? Is that you? Is he with you?”

Elaine was anxious. I could feel the strength of it through the phone, a visceral connection with a total stranger just by the waiver of her voice. So very anxious in that way that people who’ve been in a rash of losing things start to freak over the slightest possibility of another blow. It was the first time we’d ever spoken and yet I told her the situation as it stood, clear and concise. She knew of me -not just of Ann-Margret but of Thumper- and god knows I knew of her.

Elaine gained strength with details, demanded how long he’d been asleep and if he had his eyes open at all. With the first question I thought she was trying to trap me and get me to admit something I was more than ready to own up to. But then I realized she was just trying to triage. I gave her all the details I could tell and she gave me some suggestions.

“Make sure you duck away when you touch him or he’ll wallop you in the face, Thumper.” she warned with the surety of a veteran and her tone was so kind it took me ten whole minutes later to process the fact she had anticipated everything that had occurred and would occur. Despite that she was kind.

She was still kind after she suggested I let the dream run its course and maybe try to steer him from the gates or keep the outer door locked, and I had to tell her sheepishly he wasn’t wearing anything. Again, instead of what I was expecting she just let out a little huff and said

“Why didn’t you say? That makes things easier, you’ve got an ice pail, don’t you?”

So I ended up tossing ice at Elvis Presley’s chilled skin till he woke up and startled. Then led him back inside and when he saw the phone off the hook he got spooked and yelled at me that it wasn’t something to call the police for.

I said it was his wife instead. It was like he turned into a little boy then, he just yanked a sheet off the bed and curled into a chair at the kitchenette table and picked up the receiver.

I heard him whisper,

“Tink?”

before he waved me away and off as if this wasn’t my place that he had crashed in. But they were still softly chattin’ in a foreign sort of gibberish on the line by the time I gave up and fell asleep with the lamp on and him mumbling to his wife about his dream and asking to talk to a kid if one was awake.

He was gone when I woke up, so were his clothes.

Next I saw him, he was on set looking chipper, full face of pancake makeup disguising his exhaustion, playing cards with the boys waiting for the director to show. A quart’s worth of makeup was lathered to my own face, meticulously plastered on my left cheek five layers deep to disguise the purpling bruise he’d given me.

He acted like nothing, and I do mean nothing of any sort, had happened the night before. It was puzzling and I began to realize just how well he could compartmentalize everything. Lines and paces and dances and duets, he moved through them all that day with ease, belying the man who told me the night before he didn’t think he could keep going on like this.

‘This’ being the continuing of the smiling and dancing and grinding for all the nation to applaud, anything to market his resilience, once again having to rebound from his unsellable grief. But a child buried comes back in a man’s dreams.

“They made me choose, Annie,” he’d wept to me, “came out in their coats and said ‘which would ya like us to save, Mr. Presley?’ What was I s’posed to say to that, Thumper?” he begged me for an answer like I had an opinion on such a horrific conundrum. It’s times like these when a twenty three year old starlet isn’t sure what to say. “I can’t live without her! Can’t keep ‘em all well and happy without her, chose her. Now my baby girl’s dead.”

Her was always Elaine. And baby girl had been named Joe.

Josephine Belleaza, though her daddy couldn’t say her name, the name he’d lovingly chosen in happier times, couldn’t say it aloud without sounding strangled.

“It wouldn’t have changed a thing.” I kept insisting, I didn’t know what else to say except the truth of it, “They just ask those things to put it back on the -the- the patient.” The victim, the father, the parents. Putting those sleepless nights about choices back on his shoulders. As if a child drowned in the amniotic fluid that had once been its home and haven could be revived if the mother was cut apart to take it out. It was cruel, there never was a choice that god hadn't already made. “Wouldn’t have changed a thing. She doesn’t blame you, does she?”

“No, no never.” he’d sighed bitterly.

We talked a lot about her for a young co-star and her married leading man, laying in those twisted sheets he laid me out on, reveling in the fact I had no old memories etched on my skin, yet was soft and giving in all the ways to mimic the familiar one. It was an unfair usage, but when you’re in love you take a married man happily even if he seems as if he’s looking for more and less than your unstoried body could ever give him. A respite from things associated with dreams gone wrong, turned dark and twisted. He made me feel like a lifeline, he made me feel indispensable for him getting up each new day, he made my body rejoice and thrum from even the smallest of child play beneath the sheets, he made me fall in love with him.

And then he railed at me for calling her. I was the lifeline to get him back to her alive, sane and somewhat devoted. I was never his wife and according to him I should never have made his wife listen to his passing dalliance recount our tryst. It was unfair, I had done it to protect him but the minute the cameras stopped rolling he had cornered me and cut me down for the night before.

“You told her about us!” I accused him right back, righteous and misled all at once.

“There ain’t no us!” and he said it so easily.

That was true, I’d never met a fully grown man with such drive who found a way to make love in every possible way except the typical insertion method. I had not pressed it before, thinking it connected to his fear of pregnancy. “You told her about me being Thumper!” I clarified my complaint.

“Course I did!” he acted like I’d cracked up, “I tell her ‘bout all of ‘em, she’s accommodatin’ like that. Don’t mean she should have to have salt rubbed in the wound by talkin’ to ya. Ain’t fittin. She’s my wife!”

That stung, the categorization. There was little ole me, one of an apparent host of good time girls, and then there was her. And the fact she was his wife, that he really had his priorities straight despite his wandering eye, was a virtue lost on my love sick heart.

I was just furious and hurt.

“Did she put you up to this?” I seethed and he said no, no she hadn’t but this was just the way of things. He told Elaine about all his friends, which he considered me one, and on the flip side he kept them separated from his family life. It was traditional and tidy and archaic and we fought bitterly over it and made up in my bed.

He was gone again when I woke the next morning. But across the room in his stead was a large spray of roses he must’ve allowed in, shaped in a heart like a valentine, though the month was July. I anticipated conciliatory words in his childish scribble on the note. Instead, there in a delicate cursive was a quote, from Anna Karenina, I recognized,

“There are as many kinds of loves as there are hearts”

and down below in tiny, achingly gentle words was the sentiment:

“to a very tender young lady, for her pains and kindness to us, hope the cheek heals by the time I come and kiss it, all my thanks, -Elaine.”

———————————————————

I so hope I can crank out another of these or one for Gigi before too long, and a happier one at that, but for now I hope y’all enjoyed and thanks for all the love and questions flooding into my inbox for this make-believe family, it makes me so soft 🥹

Hope y’all enjoyed xoxo, lemme know below if you’d like to added to the taglist

@paradsol000

@eliseinmemphis

@prompted-wordsmith

@ab4eva

@foreverdolly

@powerofelvis

@butlersxbirdy

@crash-and-cure

@elvisabutler

@heartbrake-hotel

@stylespresleyhearted

@thatbanditqueen

@crazymadpassionatelove

@myradiaz

@ash-omalley

@whatstruthgottadowithit

@arianatheangelgirl

@steph-speaks

@burningloverdoll

@angelface-555

@lookingforrainbows

@missmaywemeetagain

@coolgirl462

@kingdomforapony

@18lkpeters

@richardslady121

@from-memphis-with-love

@lillypink

@artlover8992

@pennyroyalcreep

@notstefaniepresley

@ellie-24

@renaissingle

@waiting4brucewayne2adoptme

@presleyenterprise

@marriedtopresley

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meiliarotten · 1 year ago

Text

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time

Day 28: Mein Herrin (Femdom)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairings: Medic x Fem!Reader

Summary: Medic whining and whimpering clears my skin and waters all my crops, I am thriving.

Tags: Femdom, lingerie, overstimulation, dom/sub, begging, teasing, oral,

Word Count: 3k

The Masterlist

Medic knelt before you on the floor of his private quarters. It was a rare sight, and one that only you were privy to. It gave you a sense of pride, knowing that this side of the doctor was reserved for you and you alone.

“Ready?” You asked, looking down at Medic, smiling as you took in the view of him, looking so vulnerable. He had already stripped for you, his uniform folded neatly on a nearby dresser.

“Ja liebchen,” Medic said, meeting your eyes with a look of reassurance and barely concealed anticipation. “Let’s get started.”

You were going to enjoy this. It wasn’t often that you got to play a dominant role in these little trysts, so you were going to make the most of it. You went all out in preparation, even preparing a little surprise for him. With a smirk, you began to undress, removing your shirt and pants quickly. You heard him gasp softly as your clothes were tossed aside. A proud smile spread across your face at the sound of that, knowing you had hit your mark.

It was a simple enough ensemble that you had worn for him; a black lingerie set, sophisticated but not too complicated or gaudy. You could probably even get away with wearing it as normal underwear. Small areas of lace outlined your curves nicely. However, you knew the true allure came from the fishnet stockings you had chosen to pair with the lingerie.

“I saw the way you looked at me the first time I wore these,” you said, reminiscing on the memory. The team was going out drinking in celebration of yet another victory. You had worn the fishnets, and Medic’s lustful gaze tracked you throughout the bar all night. You loved the unwavering attention. “I thought I might try them on again, since you liked them so much.”

“Ja, danke,” Medic whispered, already sounding breathy and desperate. Just like that night in the bar, his eyes didn’t leave you as you strutted, approaching him with a purposeful sway of your hips.

“I assume you know the rules,” you said, bending at the knee so that you were at his level. Medic watched as you reached out, grasping his cock suddenly and making him suck in a sharp breath. He was already getting hard. “I control when, and if you come.”

He nodded, assuring you that he understood who was in charge tonight. You leaned forward to press your lips to his, going from domineering to gentle at a speed likely to cause whiplash. Medic moaned into the kiss as you began to slowly stroke his length.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” You asked, pulling away to get a good look at his flushed expression. He nodded, groaning softly as you continued. The way he shuddered beneath your touch was quite enticing.

A few faster strokes had him clearly struggling to hold back. You knew how to work your hands well enough to render his usual stamina insignificant. It was a useful skill for quickies during the work day, but right now it was making things incredibly difficult for Medic.

“Oh gott, liebe! Ich komme-” He managed to choke out a warning, and you reacted quickly.

“No, not yet,” you said, gripping the base of his cock and stopping him in his tracks. You smiled sweetly as he let out a soft whine. “Not without permission.”

You brought your free hand to his chest, caressing your way down his body, descending from stomach to hips to thighs. You relished how tense he was, trying desperately not to thrust forward into your hand as you tentatively loosened your grip. He was usually so impulsive when it came to matters of pleasure. Seeing him exercise such self control for once was quite alluring, especially since you knew he was doing it for you.

When his breathing evened somewhat, you began to stroke him again, slow and steady. It was a pace that was guaranteed to have him whining and begging soon enough. It was just the right amount of stimulation to keep him on edge, and oh did he ever beg. You had to partially tune out the dizzy repetitions of “please” and “bitte,” focusing on keeping your pace steady and adjusting it as you saw fit. Every so often a sudden quick stroke would leave him trembling, leaking precum down the length of his cock.

You slowed to a crawl, soon finding that you could no longer ignore Medic’s persistent begging. You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek before beginning to jerk him off in earnest, speeding up without warning. The sudden change of pace had him reeling, unable to stifle his moans.

“Go on, you can come,” you whispered, purposefully brushing your lips against his ear.

Medic arched backwards, hands clawing at the floor and head thrown back as he released over your hand and the front of your lingerie. Luckily, you would be stripping soon, but first you had something else you wanted to try. You watched as Medic rode out his orgasm, and as the aftershocks ebbed away, you didn’t stop stroking his cock.

He stammered when he noticed that you weren’t stopping, his look of relief turning slightly apprehensive. You gripped him a bit harder and stroked faster, not giving him the chance to ask what you were doing.

“What’s wrong, Medic?” You asked with a mischievous grin and a flutter of your eyelashes. You watched as his expression contorted between pleasure and discomfort, hypnotized by how he seemed to rapidly switch between those two emotions.

“Liebe!” Medic’s voice came in gasps and broken sentences as he struggled to decide whether he or not he enjoyed the overwhelming sensation you were providing. “Oh god, darling- oh Gott, fick, es ist zu viel!”

“So sensitive, aren’t you?” You teased, watching as your lover’s body was wracked with dizzying pangs of overstimulation. Medic breathed through clenched teeth, his exhales sounding like hisses as he endured your merciless treatment.

“Ja, ja liebe! Bitte, not so fast,” he begged, knowing you wouldn’t stop just yet, but hoping that he could at least get some respite with a slower pace. By some miracle, you listened to him.

“I want to milk every last drop from you,” You whispered, now gradually stroking him from base to head with little care for how he had long since softened in your grip.

You watched his every reaction ever so closely, every twitch, every gasp, every desperate plea muttered in his native tongue. It all sent shivers down your spine, and you fought to keep your breath steady as he trembled beneath your unwavering touch. Reluctantly, you released your grip on him.

“Are you alright?” You asked, your dominant demeanor cracking ever so slightly as you leaned down to check in with your partner. You didn’t want to leave Medic completely spent yet. You still had so much more you wanted to do.

“Ja, darling.” He laughed softly, still giddy from the overstimulation. A small, less patient part of you was already aching to get your hands on him again.

Medic took advantage of the brief moment of calm to look you over. In particular, he took note of the mess he had made of your lace and fishnets. The sight of his release upon the once pristine outfit soon had him eager for more.

“I certainly hope we’re not done yet,” he said, smiling at you nervously. It was an expression that you rarely saw on him, but you found you quite liked it.

“Of course not,” you said, falling back into your sense of control with relative ease. Likewise, Medic bowed his head slightly, awaiting your next move.

You looked down at your lingerie, feigning disappointment at the mess left on the tights and lace. Without another word, you began to strip, fully intending to show off your body as blatantly as you could. You glanced at Medic every so often, eyes narrowed and a smirk playing on your lips, but otherwise you acted casual, as if he wasn’t even there. You knew that not having your undivided attention would drive him mad.

“You’re going quite slow, liebchen,” Medic said, barely speaking above a whisper.

“Oh? I could go slower if you want?” You said with a smirk. He was being bolder now that you had shown a bit of softness towards him. Hopefully a bit of teasing would put him back in his place, and it worked like a charm. Medic’s face flushed and he shook his head.

“Nein, bitte! Don’t go slower, mein Herrin,” he begged, his voice dropping into that submissive little whine that you loved so much. You couldn’t help but laugh a little at how his demeanor seemed to turn on a dime.

“I love it when you blush like that. It’s cute,” you said, still chuckling softly to yourself. You knew that would strike just the right nerve with the usually proud doctor. His face reddened even further and you smirked, glad to see that you had hit your mark.

“Don’t tease me, mein Herrin, bitte.”

Oh, how pitiful he sounded, and that title was a nice touch as well. You suppressed a shiver, unable to deny how hearing him beg and plead for you sent pangs of need straight to your core. You were a bit more hasty than you had meant to be, undressing fully within the next few moments. Medic had already regained his erection. You wondered briefly if constant exposure to whatever was in his Medigun could cause a shorter refractory period. Or, perhaps, you were just doing a very good job.

“Excited, aren’t you?” You asked, hooking your fingers in the waistband of your tights, the last article of clothing left on your body.

“Ja, mein Herrin,” he whispered, watching breathlessly as you removed that final garment, leaving yourself bare and completely exposed for him. You saw his hands twitch at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching.

“Don’t touch yourself,” you warned. “I think I let you off a bit too easily the first time. You’ll have to earn this”

“Of course,” Medic sighed, unable to hide the twinge of disappointment in his voice. You ignored it for now, backing away and taking a seat on the bed, spreading your legs. He leaned forward as your fingers traced down your body, teasing over your curves before reaching your clit. You paused there for a moment, but it felt longer. Medic seemed to be growing more restless by the moment.

You rubbed your clit in slow circles. Those soft moans of yours were making it more and more difficult for Medic to obey your command. You saw his hands balled into fists beside him. He was aching to touch himself, but both of you knew that his patience would be rewarded.

Your eyes met his, intense and fixated. It was a beckoning, tantalizing gaze. You knew Medic wanted you, and the idea that you could make him so desperate and needy made you feel weak yourself, despite the position of power you were in. You stopped teasing yourself and beckoned him forward.

“Kneel in front of me,” you said, and he obeyed without question. Shifting to sit on the edge of the bed, you reached out, taking his hands and placing them on your thighs where you could keep an eye on them. “I want you to put that mouth of yours to work.”

Medic let out a shaky sigh, desperately trying to quell his own arousal and focus on pleasuring you. He leaned forward, his tongue delving into you before flicking upwards to strike your clit. You bit your lip, managing to stifle a moan into a more muted exhale. Medic’s fingers were digging into your thighs, and you allowed him to leave scratches along your skin.

Even with arousal clouding his mind, Medic was good with his tongue. He used his every skill upon you, and it wasn’t long before you were unable to hold back your moans. It was clear now, Medic was intent on making you come like this, but you were still in charge, and you didn’t want to finish just yet. You allowed him to work you up until you were right on the edge, and through an incredible feat of self control, you managed to pull his head back, gripping his hair in a tight fist.

“On the bed,” you ordered, trying to keep your voice steady and sound as firm as possible. Medic had a sky smirk on his face, clearly taking pride in how he had nearly made you lose control. Even in his more submissive position, he could still leave you shaking. Still, his arousal overwhelmed any desire to fight for dominance, and he was leaning back on the bed within moments.

You took in the sight of him laying there, painfully erect and aching to be touched, so eager to plunge into the warm tightness between your legs. It was quite tempting to mount him and ride him to completion right there. You were denying your own desires as much as his now. As you leaned over him and kissed along his body, over his neck, shoulders, pecs, and a myriad of other sensitive areas, you knew that both of you were close to giving in. Your patience was reaching its limit.

“Bitte, liebling.” Medic’s breathy voice made you pause. You looked up to see his flushed face, most likely a mirror of your own expression. “I need to be inside you, please mein Herrin!”

Your hand traveled up his chest and he trembled beneath your touch. That hand settled around his neck, not to choke him, but simply to assert your dominance one last time. His eyes were wide and pleading. You felt him swallow nervously beneath your palm.

“Promise you won’t finish until I say so.” It wasn’t a request and you punctuated your words with a careful but firm squeeze to the sides of his neck.

“Ja, I promise, I won’t come without your permission.” The way Medic whined sent a jolt of arousal through your body. You couldn’t hide a shaky sigh as you finally rewarded him, sinking down on his cock.

You began to ride him torturously slow, relishing the way he intently watched you, eyes glistening with admiration. Once again, you were impressed with his self control. He only thrust up into you once, and he quickly got control of himself when you threatened to stop.

You took your time with Medic, grinding against him, riding him, and essentially using him for your own pleasure. Being in control like this had a way of going to your head. It was an intoxicating feeling, and you knew it would only strengthen your rapidly approaching orgasm. You barely noticed Medic clutching at the bed sheets in a white knuckled grip, teeth clenched as he tried to hold back while you rode him for all he was worth.

“Herrin- oh gott, darling!” Medic’s voice was strained and desperate. It was obvious that he was agonizingly close, but you just needed a little more.

“Not yet!” You moaned, that dominant tone you had managed to maintain up until now was beginning to slip. “Fuck, I’m so close.”

Your body finally peaked, and you used your last bit of sense to tell Medic to come with you, to come for you . Then you were overtaken, only able to moan and cry out as you climaxed. Medic echoed your sounds, bucking upwards, having finally been allowed the release he had been craving.

With a final low moan you collapsed, breathing hard as you came down from your orgasm. Medic’s arms were wrapped around you almost immediately. You had basically fallen on top of him, and his embrace now kept you pinned against his body. You wouldn’t be able to leave even if you wanted to.

“Gott, liebchen.” The low, breathy way Medic spoke in his blissed out state rumbled low in his chest, which you were resting your head on. “That was good.”

With a smile, you lifted your head to look at your spent lover, his eyes half lidded and content. “I take it you enjoyed yourself?” You asked, half teasing, half genuine.

“Ja, immensely so,” Medic said with a short laugh, as if the answer wasn’t obvious enough. He met your gaze for a moment with his own question. “Did you?”

“Absolutely. It was fun. I especially like seeing you get so desperate,” you whispered, grinning from ear to ear. Medic chuckled and your face went a bit red at your eager confession of how attractive you truly found the whole situation to be. You couldn’t help but speak the truth.

“Well, that’s very good to hear, because I quite liked being at your mercy,” Medic said. You smiled, sitting up to look at him.

“Really? Because I have more ideas! Other things we could try…” You went on about your plans for future sessions, several of which seemed to pique Medic’s interest. He sat back, listening with a content smile until you suddenly cut yourself off with a yawn.

“Is mein Herrin tired?” Medic asked, finding it quite cute how your enthusiasm was now at war with your exhaustion. You couldn’t even be bothered to comment on the slightly teasing tone he spoke in. Now that you had stopped projecting the demeanor of a ruthless dom, you didn’t really mind. You simply nodded in response, nestling into Medic’s embrace with a soft, content hum.

“Sleep well, liebling. There will be plenty of time for you to share your ideas in the morning.” Medic’s words were already fading into the background, and you answered with a soft mumbling sound of agreement. With a smile, he reached over to shut off the bedside lamp, pulling the covers over your bodies. The two of you were practically on top of each other. Even so, it was quite easy to drift off to sleep, feeling far too comfortable in the moment to care.

#tf2 x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #merc x reader #minors dni #smut #tf2 smut #medic x reader #medic tf2 #team fortress 2 #medic team fortress 2 #tf2 medic #tf2 #tf2 fanfiction #team fortress 2 medic #team fortress two #cross posted on ao3

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secretlywritingstories · 1 year ago

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You can feed on me tonight, if you'd like? | BG3 Astarion one shot

Summary: It became a habit to let Astarion feed on you every night. He does it so carefully that you normally don’t wake, until the one night you do.

Tags: During canon Act 2, blood drinking, late night conversation, hurt/comfort

Warnings: Brief mention of canon trauma

Word count: 3.9k

Read on AO3 or below

You didn’t exactly intend to make it a routine, but perhaps it shouldn’t be surprising that you find yourself wanting to cling to a certainty when the option is presented to you.

Life has been more complicated lately than you’d ever thought. Being infected with a mind flayer parasite is life-ruining. It should have been death of you already, lost forever to become a thrall.

Only your parasites are different, or it’s the guardian in a damn githyanki artefact protecting you. You still haven’t quite figured out which is which. You also haven’t figured out if this delay is a blessing or a curse.

But there is one thing you are sure of in this whole chaotic journey that you never asked to go on. You like the company. Maybe you’re just all trauma bonding. All of you’ve got issues and stuff to deal with that doesn’t necessarily have a good solution. Too many of your companions are in danger of being blown up, losing themselves to old masters or seeking power that’ll corrupt them.

It's a lot trying to manage it all. Especially because you’ve become the leader of your crew. You’re not quite sure how that happened, but everyone always looks for you to have all of the answers. You have to consider how every single choice will affect you all.

It’s exhausting and scary and every new encounter tests you in a new way.

Maybe that’s why it’s easy to stride over to Astarion every night before you lie down on your bedroll and tell him that he can feed on you if he’d like. You always try to lower your voice, whisper it almost like a secret.

A ridiculous notion because Astarion’s reply is always loud, laced with teasing and appreciation in equal measure. And every single morning, you’re hobbling over to Shadowheart to request that she uses one of her limited spells to do Lesser Restoration on you. That too has become a familiar routine. You don’t even have to ask her anymore. She just does it when she sees you come over.

It was different the first time Astarion bit you. You still remember it quite vividly. During the day, you’d found the boar, a victim of a vampire attack, and how cagey he’d been when you’d tried to ask for his opinion. Still, you hadn’t foreseen that you’d wake that same night with him standing over you, about to use you as his personal juice box.

It’s almost ironic that you’re the one walking up to him every night now.

He’d thought you’d kill him when you woke that first time. You’d seen the fear in his eyes. You remember being baffled that he didn’t just strike to kill you first. He had far more dexterity. He could have gutted you before you’d had a chance to recover.

But he had stood there, fumbling to explain himself, and looking like he was waiting for you to strike him. It was your first hint that something was off about the whole thing. You know more now. About how he was enslaved to Cazador Szarr for 200 years and made to feed on rats as his only nutrition. How the vampire master carved a demonic ritual into his flesh, and left him to wonder how he’d been branded.

If you’re ever making it to Baldur’s Gate before the tadpoles or any of your many enemies get the best of you, then you’re going to kill that vampire – or better yet help Astarion do it.

You let him feed that night, and you don’t regret it. Even if a nagging thought in the back of your mind wonder if he’d have drained you dry, if you hadn’t persuaded him that he’d had enough.

Back then, maybe he would have. But you don’t think he would anymore. It feels like things have changed between you. Not just because of your one tryst at the tiefling party. That did set your relationship down a path that you hadn’t anticipated, and you know that you cannot separate sex and romance like he perhaps can.

But he’d been off that night. Far away in his mind. He’d insisted that he was just holding back when you’d asked, and while you did appreciate that, it didn’t feel like the truth. You’ve never pushed the issue of sex again, and having learned more about how he used his body to lure victims for his master, it feels like the right call.

The feeding, you know he appreciates. He says so every time you allow him it. That’s one of the strange things too. One night, you had been too battered and exhausted and forgotten to tell him that he could bite you. You had assumed that he would do so anyway, since you had been giving him permission time again and again in the days before.

But you’d woken that morning healed and not feeling the tell-tale signs of being bloodless. You’d tried to ask him about if that morning, but you had gotten a rather unpleasant visit from one of the many fiends you’ve got to deal with lately. A new chance had never presented itself.

Astarion has it down to a fine art to bite you without waking you now. It’s almost a little terrifying. You don’t stir at all. He could rip out your throat and you wouldn’t have any way to prevent it.

You’d like to think that any of your other companions would go to Withers and bargain to have your life restored. They’d find more than enough gold on your body for it. And well, they still need you.

Some of them might try to kill Astarion if he killed you. It’s a strange thing to find yourself so surrounded by people who like and want to protect you. You’ve never quite felt this bond with anyone.

But Astarion never kills you, and you suspect that he only drinks a little bit. The blood of thinking creatures, such as yourself, seems to sustain him well. You’re still not sure if it’s healthy for you to bare your neck this often but you would not change it.

It makes him happy.

And he deserves every sliver of happiness that he can get after centuries of pain. It’s why you sometimes stop and bask in the sun a little, even if some of the other party members try to hurry you along. Because you know Astarion wouldn’t stop on his own but you know that he craves basking in the sun, now that he can.

For now. Until you find the solution to the tadpole problem, at least.

It’s too scary to think further than that. Your plans keep getting derailed time and time again. You’re learning to accept that you can never anticipate what will be around the next corner.

You’ve never woken once in the weeks that Astarion has been drinking your blood, but you do tonight. Astarion is drinking from your neck, ever so carefully.

You’re not sure why you wake up this time. Maybe the shadow-cursed lands just creep up on you. For most part, you’ve tried to make camp at the Last Light Inn but sometimes, it’s just not feasible to trek back.

The pain from the bite is different from what you remember the first time. That sharp piercing pain is mollified. It’s a little uncomfortable but it doesn’t really hurt. You’re not sure if it’s the change in your heartbeat or Astarion was simply done, but he pulls back and looks surprised to find your eyes open.

His mouth drops open, ever so slightly. Fangs gleam in the moonlight and a little blood trail down from one of the corners of his mouth. By many people’s standards, this would be the picture-perfect image of a monster.

But his blood-red eyes stares into yours and you don’t see a monster at all. You see the elf that your heart is becoming rapidly entangled with, even if you know it’s a bad idea.

“Oh, you’re… awake. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He sits back on his haunches and wipes the blood on his mouth away with the back of his hand. Wasting a couple of drops. He would not have done that if it was the first time. He made sure to savour and not spill any.

But that was then. Now he’s well-fed. Things are different.

“You didn’t wake me,” you insisted, sitting up.

A mistake. Your head swims from the blood loss and you feel a dizziness overtake you. You would probably have tumbled right over if not for the steadying hands on the small of your back and your shoulder.

“Easy now, peach. I wouldn’t want my favourite meal to die on me.”

There’s a question at the tip of your tongue, even as your head still swims. You force it down and make yourself take steadying breaths. It wouldn’t do anything good to ask about what you mean to him. You’re not sure you’re ready to face that answer.

You’re just going to have to trust that you’re more than a meal.

“I’m fine,” you say.

It’s quite easy to say these days, even if it is a lie. You don’t have any choice to but to be fine. You have to persevere. Everyone is counting on you to solve all of this. And the calamity of what ‘this’ means keep expanding too. You don’t like that you’ve got to take down so many huge and scary villains.

You’re a regular person. You didn’t sign up for this shit.

Astarion clicks his tongue but doesn’t let go of you. His touch feels warm, even though he shouldn’t really be warm as a vampire spawn. Maybe that’s your blood’s doing.

“I don’t need to be particular perceptive to tell that’s a lie,” he remarks.

“Fuck off,” you bite back, partly in jest, but partly also wanting to change the conversation.

It has the intended effect. It makes Astarion laugh, and in turn that makes you smile. You savour every genuine laugh and smile that you can elicit from him. It feels like a small victory.

Maybe that’s going to be your main victory at the end of this. All of the times that you made your companions feel better, even if just for a moment. You’ve helped Gale with his magical items, Karlach with her mechanic heart, Shadowheart with protecting the artefact, Lae’zel with tracking down the creche, Wyll with his pact with Mizora, Halsin with the Druid grove and Astarion with his bloodlust.

And his revenge on Cazador, when it comes to that.

You don’t like mindless murder, which one might not think when they consider the blood that you’ve had to spill along the road here. You always try to go for the lesser evil or talk your way out of most situations, but it doesn’t always work. But either way, it would be different with Cazador.

After what he’s done to Astarion, he deserves ruthlessness.

“My, my, what has you looking like such a murderous vixen?” Astarion asks, finally letting go of you.

You watch him contemplate how to move, before he eventually sits down next to you on the bedroll. That’s the first time that has happened.

You cannot tell him the truth. You’re not sure what he would think about you contemplating killing Cazador. He would most likely approve but you’re still a little scared to discuss the specifics with him. You know he hungers for the power that Cazador has and you’re not quite sure what’ll happen if he gets it.

“Well, murder, of course,” you said with a shrug, and pull your legs up against your front. Making yourself smaller.

Astarion narrows his eyes at you, seeming to contemplate pressing the issue but eventually relenting. The silence seems to settle over the two of you. It’s not exactly peaceful out here with shadows wanting to lurch forward and kill you. It’s almost eerily quiet.

But you’ve got the pixie blessing, so you’ll be fine. The shadows can’t reach you. But you know that doesn’t mean you’re protected from all of the other things out to get you. Like the tadpole squirming around in your brain. You’re never getting used to that.

“You know,” he says, looking out into the shadows, “why do you come to me most nights? So eager to be a snack?”

It was not the question that he’d ask, but you suppose it makes sense. It’s the first time the two of you have really been explicitly confronted with what you’ve been doing these pasts weeks.

Maybe he still thinks you naïve and easy to manipulate. It seemed like that might have been the case at first. Maybe it still is, but then why would he ask? Risk you reconsidering your repeated offers to keep him fed?

“To allow you to feed, you mean?” you ask, wanting him to put it into the exact words.

You like his sass, his flair for the dramatic, but this is quite a serious topic and you need him focused. To strip away some of the façade.

“Well, yes,” he says, still frowning and staring ahead instead of looking at you.

You let out a thoughtful hum and try to string your words into something that would make sense to him. It’s difficult, when it doesn’t really fully make sense to yourself. You’re pretty sure that he isn’t going to accept the explanation that it just feels right.

You’re worried that it would be even worse to confess that you do it just to make him feel a bit of happiness. That feels like it is too big a confession while the world is falling apart around you.

“It doesn’t cost me anything,” you say, and letting out a light sigh, looking out into the same darkness that he was watching so intensely. “And it matters to you. So why wouldn’t I do it?”

Silence settles over you again, but you feel Astarion’s eyes on you now. Boring into the side of your head, observing your profile. The urge to immediately turn is strong but you let yourself wait. You let him see you.

You wonder what he finds while gazing upon your face. If he can see the other answers that you didn’t dare to speak out loud. If he can see the answer that you won’t even voice fully to yourself.

Eventually, you cannot bear it anymore and you turn to face him. His eyes have never quite looked so soft. His whole expression is stunned and a little devastated. And maybe there’s a bit of awe in his eyes too, though you’re almost too stubborn to believe it. This is not how you thought he would look at you. Ever.

“What?” you ask, whispered between the two of you, like a secret for real this time. Everyone else being soundly asleep, for now it’s just you in your own little world.

Astarion is the only companion in camp who doesn’t sleep. He mediates for a few hours but you know that��s not the same as sleeping. Elves don’t need sleep but that also means that he can never escape his own consciousness. He had to live through every second of his 200 years of captivity.

You’re breaking your own heart just remembering his history.

“I… huh, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you,” he says, and his eyes are so big, almost sparkling in the moonlight. They hold all of your attention.

You want to reply that you’ve never quite met anyone like him either, and you would have meant every word, but he continues before you can get the chance to reply.

“Where were you two hundred years ago?” he asks, splitting your heart open.

He draws his legs up against his chest, mimicking your posture. You’ve never seen him sitting like that. There are so many words you wish to tell him, but you fear any attempt at reassurance will just ring hollow.

You cannot change the past. You could not save him when you hadn’t even been born. Yet you find yourself yearning for a different past. One where you could have saved him.

“Where were you when I needed saving?” he continues.

There’s no resentment in his voice, only sad resignation. It does not sound like he blames you, but still the guilt threatens to choke you. If you thought your heart was breaking for him before, you were sorely mistaken.

He had waited for rescue. For two centuries. And none came.

When he finally got out, it wasn’t even a rescue for him. It was a kidnapping. A happenstance that ripped him from one master, but infected him with the intention to bind him to another.

You don’t realise you’re crying until he’s reaching out to gently wipe a tear from your cheek. It’s the most tenderly he’d ever touched you, the pad of his thumb barely brushing along your skin under your eye.

“Darling, you’re far to pretty to cry,” he says, and he clearly tries for a light and teasing tone but it falls flat. “Don’t waste your tears on me.”

It looks like he has even more to say to you. Maybe he feels an obligation to tell you that he doesn’t actually blame you. You both know you could not have helped him. But you find yourself yearning and wishing that someone else had.

Suddenly, every time he disapproved of you going off from the main mission to help someone else makes a little more sense. You couldn’t put your finger on why he would disapprove at first but maybe it wasn’t because he didn’t care. Maybe it was because he cared too much.

You’ve dragged him along on numerous adventures, forced him to watch as you try to help and save everyone. Relentlessly and with all of your willpower because it’s the right thing to do.

Because it felt right to help, even with the numerous threats constantly hanging over you. Because you couldn’t imagine abandoning someone who needed help.

You reach out for his hand, grabbing it before he can retreat it back to his side of the bedroll. He looks almost startled at the touch, and you’re about to pull back when he turns your hand, interlocking your fingers. Keeping your hand in his.

You want to say that you’re sorry so terribly, but you know it will never be enough. You do not want to apologise for not saving him, but to apologise on behalf of the universe that no one else did. Nature is all about maintaining balance but you cannot see how such cruelty can ever balance out.

There is nothing you can say to make this better. There’s nothing you can really do to make it better either. But you’ve got to at least try to provide him some of the comfort that he so desperately needs and deserves.

“Stay with me tonight?” you ask.

His eyebrows shoot up, clearly surprised, and you see how his face pinches together as he makes the wrong assumptions.

“Just here, lying together for the night,” you clarify before the misunderstanding can take root. You’d not ask him to sleep with you again until he explicitly tells you that he wants to. If he ever does, and if he doesn’t, then that’s okay too.

He lets out a little chuckle, sitting back a little.

“But you need to sleep. I’ve already interrupted your rest, despite promising not to do that,” he says and looks almost bashful. It’s a new look on him too. You’re seeing a bit more of him tonight than he’s shown before.

“I don’t care,” you say.

“My sweet, I don’t sleep, you know this.”

“I do. I want to stay awake with you. You can meditate if you want, but I want you to know that you’re not alone. At least not for tonight,” you say and it feels like too much, but you don’t care anymore.

So what if he will use how much you care about him against you? He’s smart, he’ll figure you out soon enough either way. You might as well let him in now.

“You… you’d do that?” he lets out a short laugh. “Normally, I’d be the only thing creeping in the shadows on a night such as this.”

“You don’t have to creep anywhere anymore,” you tell him, squeezing his hand. “Okay? As long as we’re on this journey together, I’m not letting you go. You can have blood, you can have company, you can have someone who’s there for you.”

Astarion whispers your name as if you were one of the gods or goddesses. His eyes are definitely filled with awe this time, looking at you as if you are divine.

“I cannot change the past, no matter how much we both would wish it, but I can help now. I can do something now, and I will. Now and in the future, if you’ll let me. I can’t promise that it’ll be work out. Too much could go wrong, but we still have to try. So please let me try to help you.”

Astarion looks at you for a long moment, and something in his eyes change, as if he sees you in a new light. You know your words was tinged with desperation and you’re letting him know just how much you’d be willing to do for him, but he deserves it. He deserves someone who cares for him relentlessly.

You’re willing to bare your neck to him, not because you trust him not to bite, but because you want him to and trust that he’ll do so gently.

Far too long, he’s been deprived of every ounce of happiness, and you’re going to make sure he gets a chance at as much of it as possible.

In the end, he nods and the two of you try to properly lie down on the bedroll that’s definitely too small for two people. Astarion should go to the other side of the fire and grab his own, but neither of you are operating on logic right now.

You squeeze together on the one bedroll. Your shoulders pressed together, and hands still intertwined. It’s not really comfortable but that doesn’t matter. You have both endured far, far worse.

And it’s still nice. This is nice.

You lie in silence for a long time, and you fight against consciousness to stay awake next to Astarion like you promised him. He was right that it’s a foolish attempt and that you need all of the rest you can get in these parts. But he must also know that you cannot be discouraged from something when you’ve made up your mind.

And you’re glad you fought against the tendrils of sleep when you feel his thumb stroking along the back of your hand. A light and reassuring touch. It grounds you and gives you hope for the future.

You’re not sure that he’s ever going to be okay after everything that’s happened to him, but maybe pockets of happiness will be enough. You hope it will be enough.

#bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #astarion x tav #my stories

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denimbex1986 · 1 year ago

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'When the companies behind Ira Sachs’ new drama about the shifting currents of intimacy in a troubled love triangle submitted Passages to the Motion Picture Association ratings board, they probably anticipated an R.

But the MPA came back with an NC-17 rating, forcing the distributor to release the film (which premiered at Sundance earlier this year) unrated rather than risk commercial marginalization or impose cuts that would diminish its intensity...

Let’s be clear: Passages — which Mubi opened Aug. 4 in Los Angeles and New York before expanding to other cities in the weeks to come — is a movie with a generous amount of sex, both gay and straight. But it’s neither particularly explicit nor remotely gratuitous, even if it’s frequently quite hot.

The sex is, above all, integral to the movie’s emotional texture, to the way the characters navigate their volatile relationships, the way they express their feelings and explore their connections through their bodies as they come together and pull apart. In other words, the film’s candor in depicting sex and nudity nudges it closer to European cinema than American.

The ratings controversy around Sachs’ movie comes just as Oppenheimer has been generating talk on social media and in the press about being the first Christopher Nolan movie to feature sex scenes. The trysts between Cillian Murphy as scientist J. Robert Oppenheimer and Florence Pugh as his lover both before and during the former’s marriage earned the release an R rating, which is standard given the glimpses of sweaty flesh on view.

But the fact that people are talking about it at all — and no one has been talking about it louder than Nolan himself — just underlines how squeamish American movies are about sex and sensuality.

The sex scenes in both those movies serve a clear narrative purpose. In Nolan’s film, they convey the magnetism of Oppenheimer and its ultimately devastating effect on a woman who, while not really on screen long enough to acquire much complexity, is defined by her intellectual curiosity, political radicalism and carnal desire.

The actual intercourse — once during the affair and once years later, as a haunting specter conjured in a security hearing — is brief and somewhat mechanical, while a long post-coital discussion has Murphy and Pugh sitting naked in armchairs on opposite sides of a room, carefully positioned and framed to keep crotches out of sight. The scene looks like an interview for an admin job at a nudist colony. It’s anything but erotic.

The scene in the Paris-set Passages that evidently had the MPA clutching their pearls, by contrast, is erotically and emotionally charged, raunchy and tender. It takes place after narcissistic German filmmaker Tomas (Franz Rogowski) has strayed outside his marriage to English print-maker Martin (Ben Whishaw) with Agathe (Adèle Exarchapoulos), a French schoolteacher he met at the wrap party for his latest feature.

Back in bed with Martin again, Tomas more or less offers himself up, resulting in sex that could be a bid for forgiveness, a reconciliation, a sad acknowledgment of enduring feelings or a manipulative attempt by Tomas to keep a hold on his husband while continuing to explore a new relationship. Or it could be all of those things.

Like the movie’s other sex scenes, it’s dramatically loaded, and although it’s shot in a single take with no artful draping of the sheets, it’s hardly graphic...

The prim attitude toward sex in American movies goes beyond MPA rulings to Hollywood itself. Sex and unapologetic sensuality have been all but banished from the mainstream since the heyday of erotic thrillers in the 1980s and early ‘90s — films like Dressed to Kill, American Gigolo, Body Heat, Basic Instinct, 9½ Weeks, The Last Seduction, Color of Night and Sliver. People onscreen were getting laid and loving it back then.

What happened to make American movies so desexualized? As the holdover artistic spirit of the emancipated ‘70s faded further into the distance, studios became increasingly corporate and less creative in their thinking. In order to be profitable, movies had to play not only across the U.S. — including conservative Red states and Bible Belt regions — but internationally, where many countries have rigidly imposed codes concerning sex and nudity.

The ascendance of the superhero movie has been another nail in the coffin of sensuality. In the Superman films of the late ‘70s and early ‘80s, there was most definitely something cooking between Christopher Reeve and Margot Kidder. But in the more recent wave of comic book-inspired action fare, the protagonists are so sexless they might as well be genital-free Kens and Barbies...

Where, in film, is the supposed sex-positive movement that has become part of the cultural conversation? Cable and streaming platforms have stepped into the breach with shows that don’t hold back on steamy content — think Girls, Insecure, P-Valley, Bridgerton, Game of Thrones, Euphoria and The White Lotus.

So is the dearth of grownup attitudes toward sex and sensuality on big screens a stagnant situation or a step backwards? Many would argue convincingly that it’s been that way since the late ‘90s. But it’s also conceivable that we’re in a unique perfect-storm moment, where far-right conservatism has converged with post-MeToo liberal timidity. On social media, some Gen-Z filmgoers have even questioned whether sex scenes have a place in movies. Seriously, kids, you need to get out more.

The presence of intimacy coordinators on set has no doubt helped to ensure an environment of increased safety and trust for actors, establishing essential boundaries of body autonomy. But unlike so many uninhibited European screen stars, the majority of major-name American performers remain shy about stripping down and going at it.

Witness Penn Badgley declaring his dislike of filming intimate scenes and his insistence on less sex and skin for his character in season 4 of Netflix’s You out of respect for his marriage. “That aspect of Hollywood has always been very disturbing to me,” said the actor in a Variety interview. But many of us who bemoan the shortage of full-blooded sensuality at the multiplex might wonder which Hollywood he’s talking about.'

#Penn Badgley #You #Oppenheimer #Cillian Murphy #Florence Pugh #Passages #Ira Sachs #Christopher Nolan #Ben Whishaw #Franz Rogowski #Netflix #American Gigolo #Nine and a half Weeks #Adèle Exarchapoulos #Basic Instinct

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