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obsessedwhyyes · 1 month ago

Text

An Empirical Study

Part 2 of The Scientific Method Series (though readable as a standalone). Part 1, A Sound Hypothesis, can be found here!

Summary: As your first night together with Astarion draws near, your mind, ever the analyst, goes into overdrive. Thankfully, Astarion has a cure for those racing thoughts - a sensory experiment, one that will release your inhibitions and help you to embrace the unknown. In doing so, you discover that some mysteries are best experienced, rather than solved.

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7132 Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader Content: Act 1, smut with plot, inexperienced nerd reader, losing virginity, sensory play, tantric massage (sort of), fingering, Astarion guides you during sex. Warning: Very mild reference to Astarion's past trauma, though this Tav doesn't pass her insight checks.

Gif by silverformymonsters on Tumblr!

A/N: This fic was inspired by the idea that mindfulness is the best cure for a busy mind. No one says mindfulness can't be sexy, right? Actual smut appears halfway through.

Travelling lush verdant landscapes on your search for the Druid, Halsin, your eyes are drawn to Astarion at each opportunity, your mind wandering to thoughts of your night prior. You had bared yourself to him, and him to you in an evening of bliss and exploration which you, even in all your overthinking, had not anticipated. Yet, it was nothing compared to what was to come tonight - at least, according to him.

Stolen glances, lingering touches on the small of your back, a brush of his hand against yours - all promises of what is to come, whispered between almost-lovers.

And so you find yourself sneaking glances at his lips, which spilled forth such delicious sounds for you at your touch; at his silver hair which you envision your hands running through in a moment of passion; at his eyes, which gazed into yours with the intensity of a winter storm as his pleasure spilled from him.

Gods, is it distracting.

You're meant to be leading this merry band of tadpolled companions you have founded, not indulging these dirty little fantasies of yours. You need to keep your wits about you. Lives depend on it.

He, meanwhile, is the picture of easy grace and sardonic smiles, sauntering ahead of you with all the casual arrogance of a man who knows how good he looks from behind.

Every so often, he pauses to check his nails or adjust his perfectly coiffed hair, as if the finer details of his appearance are the most pressing concern in this current life-or-death situation.

And then there's that smirk. That knowing, mischievous quirk of his lips whenever he catches you staring. It's a look that says, “I know what you're thinking, darling. And you have to work for it.”

You're torn between wanting to wipe that damn smug expression off his face and wanting to… well, the evermore debauched side of your mind helpfully supplies several colourful suggestions, none of which are appropriate for your current company or circumstances.

So when you find yourself tripping over a fallen beam and nearly falling face-first into a pile of mouldy straw as your companions attempt to loot the blighted village you’ve stumbled into, you decide, for your sake and the sake of your increasingly concerned friends, to seek a moment of reprieve.

“You all go on ahead,” you shout to them. “I'll catch up.”

When they nod their understanding and continue on, you're relieved to have a moment to yourself. A moment to rein your wandering thoughts back under control and return to the wizard you were - one with a mind of sound, scientific thought and resolve, not of such lewd desires. For now, at least.

It seems only a taste of the once unknown was enough to drive you to madness.

But that isn’t all that plagues you.

As you stand alone in the dilapidated building you’ve resigned yourself to in your moment of madness, your mind wanders to the night ahead. Excitement bubbles in your chest, but it’s tempered by a gnawing anxiety that threatens to overwhelm you. You’ve faced down monsters, handled the horror of a mindflayer parasite lurking in your brain with a surprising grace. And yet, the prospect of fully giving yourself to Astarion shakes you in a way that you have never experienced.

It’s a natural biological response, you tell yourself. The release of hormones in response to a new, potentially stressful situation.

But there is a sense of finality to the coming night that intimidates you - a threshold that once crossed, cannot be uncrossed.

You pace the worn floorboards, your footsteps echoing in the empty room. Your mind, ever the analyst, begins to dissect your fears with scientific precision. Perhaps it’s not the physical act itself that fears you, but what it represents: a change. For so long, you’ve defined yourself by your rationality - your dedication to your craft - even if it meant keeping intimacy at arm’s length. But Astarion - he's awakened something within you. Something primal, something that can't be contained by logic or reason.

Astarion is a master in getting your heart racing - a dangerous cocktail of excitement, fear, and desire that leaves you breathless, in more ways than one as of late. He’s like the night itself - dark, mysterious, full of hidden dangers and untold pleasures. And just like the night, he calls to you, urging you to explore, to experience, to lose yourself in the shadows. It’s intoxicating.

There’s a part of you that fears this - that desire to cling to what is familiar. Yet you also yearn for the connection, the raw intimacy, the chance to experience life with your whole being, not just your mind.

And really, what does it matter if you lean into this yearning? You could all be dead tomorrow, or worse, transformed into mind flayers. If you're going to die or become a monster, at least you could do so knowing what it feels like to–

No, no. Stop that.

You groan and run a hand through your hair. All this anticipation is maddening.

Your eyes scan the room - what was once a bedroom - for a distraction, and locate a suitably perfect one placed conveniently on a bedside table: a small coffer, liable to be filled with the valuables of its owner, now long dead to the goblins which had infested this area before you and your companions had cleaned it up.

You sit down on the edge of the bed, the old, torn frame creaking as you lower yourself. The coffer is ornate, its lock intricate - complex enough to keep out the finest of goblin thieves, seemingly. Probably not enough to keep out particularly dextrous vampires though, your traitorous mind supplies.

Nevertheless, it will make a suitable distraction. You can figure out an old lock without Astarion’s expertise. You’re a wizard for gods’ sake.

You pull spare lockpicking tools from your pack, tongue poking out slightly in concentration as you set to work, trying to remember the vague instructions you’d once overheard in a tavern. Hells, what was it again? “Insert and wiggle?” Or “poke and hope?” Undeterred, you begin your fumbling.

… And the pick slips as you attempt to insert it into the lock, jabbing under your fingernail.

You yelp, nearly dropping the entire set, swearing profanities under your breath.

“Now this is just pitiful.”

“Shit!” You shout, the coffer clattering to the floor as you scramble to get up to address the velvety voice that manifests behind you.

You look up to see Astarion gazing down at you, eyebrow raised, amused at your lack of grace. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, the picture of casual elegance.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he coos.

“No, I just…” You fight to catch your breath. “It looked valuable. I couldn't just leave it here without taking a peek.”

“All by yourself? I do hope you were planning to share,” he teases in mock pouting.

“As if you wouldn't keep it all to yourself.”

He brings a hand to his heart, with all the theatrics of a wandering bard recounting his most exaggerated conquests after too many tankards of ale.

“How you wound me! I think you'll find I'm very generous.” He looks you up and down as you reclaim your fallen items and your space on the bed to resume your attempts at this gods-damned impossible lock. Astarion, however, seems to have other ideas.

He saunters into the room, circling you like a predator sizing up its prey.

“You know,” he continues, a smirk on his lips, “if you need me to teach you, you only have to say so. If I recall, you're an exceptionally fast learner…”

He leans over you, lips hovering closely to your ear. You pulse quickens, but you don't look him in the eye.

“... Darling.”

Nope. Still not looking him in the eye.

“I’m perfectly capable of picking a lock, Astarion.”

“Oh, I’ve no doubt. But perhaps you’d like a lesson from the master of larceny himself? I promise to be a thorough teacher. All you have to do,” he teases, “is say please.”

Bastard.

“And I suppose you’re offering this lesson out of the kindness of your heart?”

Astarion’s laugh is rich and warm, and your heart flutters for just a moment. “Let’s just say I enjoy watching you learn.”

The double entendre isn’t lost on you. Heat pools in your belly as you recall his “lessons” from the night prior.

“Fine,” you sigh in mock exasperation, turning to look directly into his ruby eyes. If it’s a cat-and-mouse game he wants, a cat-and-mouse game he shall have. “Please,” you purr in your best attempt to embody the sultriness that Astarion so easily exudes, holding his gaze with eyes hooded. You can only hope you don’t look and sound as silly as you feel.

You get more than you bargained for.

“Oh, my.” He positions himself behind you on the bed, pressing his chest against your back, his legs either side of you. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Your breath hitches. Your pulse quickens, pounding so loudly that you have no doubt he can hear it. But worst of all, the proximity, his breath on your neck, and the feeling of his hard body against yours ignite that familiar ache in your core.

So much for a distraction.

He tuts. “Ah, I see the problem.” His voice is low, lips now hovering beside your ear. “The pick you’re using - it’s not quite up to the task.”

You frown, examining the delicate tool. “What do you mean? It seems fine to me.”

“Oh no, my dear. Size matters when it comes to these things. It’s simply not big enough for a lock like this. Luckily for you, I have a pick that is very large.”

You bite back a laugh and decide to play along. “Is that so? And how exactly do you manage to fit such a large pick in these small locks?”

He chuckles, the sound low and rich in your ear. “It’s all about technique, darling. With the right approach, you’d be amazed at what can fit where.”

You half expect to find yourself suddenly transported into the pages of one of those tawdry “romance” novels hidden in the darkest corners of Candlekeep’s library.

“I see,” you reply. “And I suppose you’ve had plenty of practice…”

Gods, you can’t quite believe you’re indulging this.

“... inserting your pick into various locks over the years?” You continue, heat flushing your cheeks at your own brazenness.

“Oh, indeed,” he replies. “I’ve encountered all sorts of locks in my time. Each one unique, requiring a… personal touch to open properly.”

“And have you ever met a lock you couldn’t pick?”

Astarion’s voice is downright wicked. “Not yet, darling. Though I must say, I’m quite looking forward to trying my luck with yours.”

There’s that ache of excitement again, pooling at your core at the implications which race through your mind. The air hangs heavy between you, charged with promise and anticipation. “Well then, master lockpick, perhaps you’d better show me how it’s done.”

“With pleasure,” Astarion coos, reaching behind him to retrieve an, indeed, much larger lockpick from his pack, alongside an additional curved tool: a tension wrench - how very advanced. He hands them to you, keeping a hold of your hands as you hold onto the implements.

“First,” he murmurs, his cool, long fingers guiding you to bring the tension wrench to the lock, “we need to slide this into the keyway, here. Apply constant, gentle pressure. Too much, and you’ll bind the pins. Too little, and they won’t set.”

Next, he raises your other hand, holding the pick. “Now for the delicate part,” he purrs. “We’ll use this to probe deeply, searching for those sensitive spots that, when touched just right, will yield to you.”

You swallow hard, but persevere.

As you work, you feel the subtle vibrations of pins through the pick; the minute clicks as they each settle into place. Astarion’s hands never leave yours, his touch both instructive and maddeningly distracting.

“Feel that resistance?” he asks as you encounter a stubborn pin. “Sometimes, darling, you have to apply a little more pressure.” He emphasises the word by pressing his body closer to yours, and you have to bite your lip to keep from making a sound. “Maintain tension while you lift the pin with the pick.”

“That’s it,” he encourages as you successfully work your way through the lock, guided by his expert hands. “I knew those clever fingers of yours were good for more than just spellcasting.”

“And just what other uses did you have in mind for my fingers?”

His chuckle is low and rich. “My dear, I have so many ideas, we might need another night to explore them all.”

The promise in his words sends a thrill through you, equal parts excitement and trepidation.

“Almost there,” he murmurs, voice husky with concentration - or perhaps something else entirely. “Just a little more pressure…”

With a satisfying click, the lock finally gives way. You let out a triumphant laugh, turning to face Astarion with a grin.

“Well done,” he says, with something resembling pride flickering across his features for a moment. Or hunger. It’s hard to tell sometimes.

As the excitement of your victory over that bastard lock fades, you become acutely aware of Astarion’s proximity. You realise with a start just how close you are. His face is mere inches from yours, eyes boring into you with an intensity that steals your breath. The cool solidity of his chest against your back, his breath ghosting over your neck - it’s intoxicating and terrifying all at once. The reality of what is to come tonight crashes over you like a wave, bringing forth those familiar pangs of anxiety deep within your chest.

“Astarion,” you begin, turning your face away from him. “About tonight…”

“Not having second thoughts, are we?” He says as he shifts to sit alongside you. You find yourself equal parts relieved and disappointed at the loss of him pressed so firmly against you.

“No,” you say quickly, then pause. “I want to. It’s just… I don’t know. I’m just–”

“Nervous? Darling, I assure you, I won’t bite.” He pauses, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Unless you ask nicely, of course.”

Your face flushes at his brazen comment.

“Besides, after your… performance last night, I thought we were well past this bashfulness. You don’t need more ‘experimentation,’ surely?”

“That was different,” you mutter, avoiding his gaze.

“Oh?” Astarion leans in. You feel his breath on your skin, cool and gentle. “Do tell. What makes tonight so special that it has our dear leader in such a state?”

You take a breath, deciding to be honest. “It just feels like… once we do this, there’s no going back. I’ll be… I don't know. Different.”

It’s a foolish notion by all logic, but one that gnaws at your mind nonetheless. You feel almost ludicrous as you voice your feelings aloud. It’s difficult, this “being honest with yourself” business.

Astarion’s eyebrow arches, a mix of curiosity and amusement. “Ever the overthinker.” He pauses, seemingly considering his words. “Darling, you’ll still be you. Just… more experienced. And significantly more satisfied, I might add.”

You roll your eyes. “You know what I mean, Astarion.”

His expression shifts to something altogether softer. "I do. But tell me, darling - didn't you feel it last night? That thrill of breaking free from your own chains? The prim scholar I met would have baulked at such unseemly behaviour. And yet, there you were, eager and willing. Why cling to those old restraints when you could shed them entirely? There's so much more to experience, so many delicious freedoms to taste."

You blink. Loathe as you are to admit, he’s right about one thing: abandoning your own self-imposed constraints last night was… liberating.

“You know, you can be surprisingly insightful at times.”

He feigns offence, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “Surprisingly? My dear, I’ve had centuries to perfect the art of observation. How do you think I’ve survived this long? It’s a crucial skill for any vampire. Or any lover.”

You laugh, and some of the tension eases from your shoulders at his usual bantering. “And there’s the Astarion I know.”

“Would you prefer I return to being mysterious and dangerous? That can certainly be arranged.”

“No,” you say softly, meeting his gaze. “I think I prefer you as you are.”

Shit, you think. Did I really just say that?

He makes an odd expression. That same indecipherable expression from the night prior, flickering across his features, barely visible, impossible for you to categorise. Is it disappointment? Annoyance? A deeper emotion that you cannot name? Gods, you wish you could see into that mind of his.

Well… you could, but that would be impolite.

But before either of you can speak again, a voice cuts through the air.

“Oi! Are you two coming back or do we need to leave you to the goblins?”

It’s Shadowheart, her tone impatient and slightly suspicious.

Astarion's usual smirk slides back into place, the elusive expression gone as quickly as it appeared. "Well, we'd better not keep them waiting. Wouldn't want them to start any unsavoury rumours, would we?"

As you gather your things, your mind whirls with thoughts of what almost was and what's still to come. Astarion brushes past you as he heads for the door, his hand ghosting over the small of your back.

"Until tonight, darling," he murmurs, just for you to hear.

The day crawls by with agonising slowness, each moment stretching like treacle in the sun; thoughts of the unknown looming over you like a curse - albeit one that promises especially satisfying outcomes.

When evening approached and you and your companions returned to the sanctuary of your camp, Astarion had caught you alone, his voice low and rich with promise.

“Meet me tonight,” he murmured. “When the others are asleep. In the clearing we found yesterday. Follow the path, and head east at the fork. I'll be waiting,” he finished with a smile - that same teasing, rakish smile which lingers in your fantasies at night.

Now, as you make your way through the darkening woods, your heart pounds a staccato rhythm against your ribs.

What if I do something embarrassing? What if I accidentally cast Fire Bolt in a moment of madness?

You snort at your own ridiculous thoughts. You can almost hear Astarion's voice in your head, calling you out for being the terrible overthinker that you are.

As you approach the clearing, you take a deep breath, trying to centre yourself. You're a bundle of contradictions - nervous yet eager, apprehensive yet excited. Your mind might be a chaotic whirl of thoughts and doubts, but your body moves forward with purpose, drawn to Astarion like a moth to flame.

Well, you think wryly, at least if I embarrass myself horribly, I can always hope for a sudden mindflayer attack to put me out of my misery.

With that comforting thought, you step into the moonlit clearing, your eyes searching for Astarion's familiar silhouette.

And then you see him.

Astarion emerges from behind a tree, shirtless, moonlight casting shadows that accentuate the lean contours of his form.

"There you are," he purrs, his voice low and rich. "I've been waiting. Waiting since the moment I laid eyes on you. Waiting... to have you."

You can't help but chuckle, a mixture of nervousness and amusement. "Since the moment you laid eyes on me? You mean when you held a knife to my throat?"

"Gods, you just can't let me woo you, can you?” he teases. He steps closer to you, his presence electric.

Your eyes trace the elegant lines of his face, the sharp angle of his jaw, the mesmerising depth of his ruby eyes. He is beautiful in the way that wild things are beautiful - captivating and perilous in equal measure.

“You don’t need to ‘woo’ me, Astarion. I’m already here.”

His smile widens. "Indeed you are. But where's the fun in rushing? I intend to savour every moment of this."

As he approaches, he snakes a hand around your waist, lingering at the small of your back, before pulling you flush against him. Before you have a chance to acknowledge his brazen actions, his lips meet yours and his kiss is as hungry as you remember; as intoxicating as you’d dreamed. His tongue plays with yours, cool and skilled, a stark contrast to the warmth blooming in your core. For but a moment, you find your body taking the lead once more - your fingers glide up the bare skin of his chest, up his jaw, finally tangling themselves in the silken strands of his hair.

As your arms wrap themselves behind his neck, you suddenly feel your feet lift the ground. Your stomach drops, a fleeting sensation of weightlessness before Astarion secures you in his arms, twirling to press you against the tree he emerged from. The rough bark presses into your back, only accentuating the feeling of his hard, smooth body as it envelops your own.

But then the rush of sensation begins to ebb. In its wake, your mind reasserts itself, a tidal surge of thoughts and fears flooding back in. The bark digging into your back, once a thrilling counterpoint to Astarion's touch, now feels uncomfortably real. The weight of the moment settles on you, heavy and undeniable.

This is happening. This is real.

Your body, so responsive moments ago, now feels stiff and awkward. Your hands suddenly feel clumsy and unsure. You're acutely aware of every point of contact between you, hyper-conscious of each touch.

Astarion, ever perceptive, seems to sense the change. His movements slow, and he pulls back slightly, ruby eyes searching your face. A furrow appears between his brows, concern replacing the hunger that had darkened his gaze.

"You've gone rigid as a statue, darling.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words stick in your throat. How can you explain this? The desire that still smoulders beneath the surface, at war with the fear that threatens to extinguish it?

Astarion's head tilts, a predator scenting uncertainty. But when he speaks, his voice is uncharacteristically gentle. "You're overthinking this again, aren't you? I can practically hear the gears grinding."

He doesn't wait for your response, instead lowering you gently to the ground into the grass below and settling on his knees alongside you.

"Perhaps," he says, a thoughtful look replacing his usual smirk, "we need a different approach. One that will keep that brilliant mind of yours occupied.

“I want you to close your eyes,” Astarion instructs, his voice soft but commanding. “And then I want you to focus entirely on sensation. No thinking, no more analysing. Just feeling. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, both nervous and intrigued, as your eyes flutter closed.

“Excellent,” he purrs. “Now, I’m going to touch you, and I want you to tell me everything you feel. Everything. Alright?”

��I think so.”

With your eyes shut, every other sense seems to heighten as anticipation washes over you. Moments pass like centuries, almost agonisingly so.

As if to break the spell, you feel him trace a line, gentle and deliberate, along your jawline, all the way to your neck, resting his fingers above your pulse.

“What do you feel?”

“I… I feel your fingers,” you venture. You can't hide the uncertainty in your voice.

“What about them?”

“They're… cool? But not cold. Your fingertips are slightly rough; they have a texture to them.”

“Excellent,” he encourages. “What else?”

You pause as you feel him shift above you, straddling you at your hips, and he brings his head down to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. You shiver slightly as you feel the coolness of his breath, and his lips, which graze your skin, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake.

“I feel your lips. They're soft. I can smell your cologne… It's fresh, herby almost. And something else… something earthy. Something ‘you.’”

“You're more observant than I gave you credit for,” he teases, though his praise causes your heart to swell for a moment.

His touch becomes bolder, a hand trailing down from your neck to reach the swell of your breast, massaging it gently. You inhale sharply, the sensation both thrilling and unexpected as he brushes a thumb across your nipple over the barrier of your clothes.

“And now?” he asks into the crook of your neck, punctuated by slow, delicate kisses, planted along the line where he would sink his fangs.

“It's… intense,” you manage. It's as if your skin has become hypersensitive, every nerve ending alive and receptive to his touch. “I can feel everything so clearly, even through my clothes. It's almost overwhelming, but in a good way.”

You hear a low chuckle from Astarion. “Good,” he murmurs. “That's exactly what I want you to feel.”

As he sits up, his fingers travel to the hem of your shirt, a whisper of a touch that sends shivers across your skin. He pulls at the fabric with deliberate slowness, exposing your midriff inch by inch. His fingers occasionally brush against your skin, leaving the most wonderful tingles in their wake. When he reaches your chest, he pauses, hands hovering just below your breasts.

“May I?”

You nod, unable to find your voice. With a gentleness that surprises you, he slides your shirt, bra along with it, up and over your head as you raise yourself momentarily to help him. The cool night air hits your exposed skin and you shiver, though not entirely from the cold.

“Beautiful,” Astarion breathes.

His fingertips trace patterns on your skin, starting from your collarbone and working their way down. Each touch feels electric, sending little sparks of sensation through your body. He traces the curve of your breast, the dip of your waist, the plane of your stomach, as if memorising the feel of your skin beneath his hands.

When he reaches the waistband of your skirt, you feel his knuckles brushing against your hip bones as he works at the fastenings, and the muscles in your abdomen tighten of their own accord. You hear every sound, every breath he makes, every rustle of fabric.

As your skirt falls away, pulled with deliberate slowness, you become aware of new sensations. The blades of grass tickle your legs. The night air caresses your skin.

You feel exposed, vulnerable. But… safe.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The night seems to hold its breath, the world narrowing down to just the two of you in this moonlit clearing. You're acutely aware of your nakedness, and you need not see it to feel Astarion's eyes roaming over you.

“You're exquisite,” he says, and for once, there's no trace of his usual sarcasm or teasing.

Astarion’s hands and fingers continue their exploration of your body, alternating between feather-light touches and firmer caresses. He seems to delight in discovering places that make you gasp or shiver - the shell of your ear, the dip of your waist, the inside of your wrist.

The sensation is incredible - like tingles radiating out from his touch, spreading across your skin in waves. It reminds you of the pleasant shivers you feel when someone whispers close to your ear. But gods, this is so much more intense; more all-encompassing.

“It… it feels like…” You try to describe the feeling aloud, but words catch in your throat, coming out as a soft moan instead, causing you to clasp your hands to your mouth to stifle yourself.

“Don't hold back, love,” he encourages. “Let me hear you.”

As his fingers trail along your inner thigh, a soft gasp escapes your lips.

Astarion’s touch is feather-light, teasing, as he moves higher. When his fingers brush against your entrance, arousal and anticipation leaving you more sensitive than you have ever known, a low moan rises unbidden from your throat.

And then his fingers enter you. One finger, then two. He moves slowly, almost agonisingly so, in and out and in and out of you, curling his fingers ever so slightly upwards. Little whimpers and sighs escape you, a wanton symphony of pleasure that you never knew you were capable of. Each sound seems to spur him on, his touches becoming faster, more purposeful, more focused.

You find yourself arching into his touch, your body seeking more of the exquisite sensation he's drawing from you, only for him to bring a thumb to your clit, playing you with virtuoso expertise in rhythm with his fingers. You cry out and, for a moment, you're embarrassed by the volume, but Astarion's hum of approval vanishes any self-consciousness.

“That's it, darling,” he whispers, his voice dark, husky. “Let go. Let me hear how good you feel.”

His words push you closer to the edge. Your sounds become more frequent, more urgent. You're dimly aware that you're babbling, a stream of “please” and “Astarion” and “oh gods” spilling forth from your lips.

As the pleasure builds to a crescendo, you feel the last of your inhibitions slipping away. It's as if the invisible chains which have bound you for so long are finally breaking, link by link. Each wave of pleasure weakens their hold, and Astarion’s touch is the key that unlocks every shackle.

When you finally reach your peak, it's like a dam bursting within you, sending all the pent-up fears and self-imposed constraints out along with it. Astarion’s name leaves your lips in a cry that's part plea, part praise, as you soar on wings of newfound freedom.

“Open your eyes, darling,” Astarion says softly, a grounding force in the wake of your climax.

You do, blinking in the moonlight. It takes a moment for your vision to adjust, but the world comes into focus slowly, like awakening from a dream.

Astarion’s face is the first thing you see, illuminated by the soft moonlight filtering through the trees as he sits up on his knees alongside you. And as your gaze travels down…

… He's also naked.

Heat rises to your cheeks as you take in the sight of him - all of him - all lean muscle and pale skin. You don't think you'll ever get used to the sight of his cock. Somehow, in this light, it's even more perfect than you remember: glistening, with a slight upward curve, and a girth that makes you ache in anticipation.

Astarion's smile widens, a hint of his usual mischief returning to his eyes. “See something you like, darling?”

You laugh, your voice raw. “You know I do,” you admit, surprising yourself with your own boldness.

“Hmm, yes,” he purrs. “But I do so enjoy hearing you say it.”

He shifts, positioning himself above you, aligning between your thighs.

For the first time, even at the final threshold, your mind is… quiet. You find yourself relaxed, languid. You feel that pang of nervousness, yes. But you don't find yourself restrained by it.

You want to revel in this feeling. In him. In the sensations he brings you. In this freedom he has granted you; this freedom that you have never before granted yourself.

A moment passes, and tension crackles in the air between you.

“Ready, love?” He asks, breaking the silence.

You nod. You are certain.

He positions himself, his hand guiding his cock, ready to bring it to your entrance.

“Breathe in for me, darling.”

You do as he says, drawing in a deep breath. And as you do…

His cock enters you.

You squeeze your eyes shut at the sensation. There's a moment of discomfort, your body stretching more to accommodate him as he slowly inserts inch after inch, giving you time to adjust. You have never felt so full before. You have never felt anything quite like this before.

“How does it feel?” He asks, his voice strained with the effort of holding still.

“It's a little sore,” you exhale, and your voice slightly shaky at the rush of sensation.

“Then let's start slowly, shall we?”

When he leans down to kiss you, you become aware of every point of contact; the coolness of his bare skin pressed so closely against the warmth of yours, yet it never quite feels close enough. You wrap your arms behind his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss between you and, in turn, he wraps an arm under the small of your neck, lifting you to him. His weight on you is grounding as you adjust to the foreign sensations.

That is until, oh so slowly, he moves inside you.

His movements are controlled, restrained, yet you can feel the barely leashed power in his lithe form, in the ripple of his muscles. He's a predator, dangerous and deadly, yet in this moment, he handles you with a gentleness that gives you goosebumps.

Pain meets pleasure with each deliberate motion, merging into one muddle of intense sensation. But then the discomfort begins to fade, replaced by a building warmth that spreads throughout your body. Each slow thrust of his hips brings a new wave of feeling overwhelming yet exquisite.

Astarion brings a hand to your leg, coaxing you to lift it. You understand the message, wrapping your legs around his waist as he thrusts into you and gods. He's even deeper within you, the sounds wet and lewd with each undulation of his hips. You gasp loudly at the sensation, breaking free momentarily of his kiss.

You suddenly find yourself in need of more. More closeness, more contact, more of him.

Your legs, encircling his waist, involuntarily pull his hips into you, urging him on, faster and deeper into you. You hadn't meant to be so bold. But this feeling of fullness, of connection, is overwhelming, igniting every primitive urge within your body, now unconstrained by the shackles of your mind. He responds in kind, thrusting in time with each pull of your legs. Your voice is not your own, the most wanton of cries spilling forth from your lips, high pitched and needy. Your eyes search for his, eager to see them hungry, dark, brimming with pleasure just as you remember from the night prior.

But something’s different.

His eyes are glazed, ever so slightly, looking more through you than at you. It's as though he's focusing intently on something you can't see.

Concentrating, perhaps? Trying to maintain control? Gods, it's hard to think straight when each thrust hits deep inside you so deliciously. Each movement is methodical, perfect - skill clearly derived from centuries of experience.

But amidst the haze, you reach up and gently brush your fingers along his jawline. “Astarion?” you breathe, soft and inquisitive between each gasp of pleasure.

He blinks rapidly, his rhythm faltering. He pauses, still inside you. For a split second, what looks to be confusion flickers across his features, before his usual charming smirk, practised and perfect, returns.

“Ah, darling,” he starts, his voice hoarse. “Just got a little… lost in the moment.”

Before you can respond, Astarion suddenly shifts, changing your positions with a grace that takes your breath away. In one fluid motion, he scoops you into his arms and sits up, bringing you with him so that you're straddling his lap.

“Now then,” he says, “where were we?”

His renewed enthusiasm is almost overwhelming. His touch is more purposeful, his movements more intense as tangles a hand in the strands of your hair, pulling you in to kiss him. You find yourself swept up in his redoubled efforts.

Astarion’s spare hand settles firmly on your hip, pulling you to him, coaxing you to rock back and forth on his cock and–

Stars burst behind your eyes. A new, intense pleasure, richer than the last as the head of his cock brushes the uppermost wall of you.

He guides your movements, bringing you to a rhythm that has you gasping. You chase that elusive feeling eagerly. When you falter, uncertain and unbalanced from inexperience, he whispers his encouragement.

“That's it,” he murmurs as you find your stride. “Keep going.”

He rocks his hips to meet your own, and gods, there's that beautiful voice of his, punctuated by the rhythmic slaps of skin against slickened skin. His low groans reverberate through your body, mingling with your own breathless gasps and whimpers.

Finally, seemingly sensing your fast approaching limit, he brings a hand between your bodies, and you feel the familiar sensation of his thumb rubbing delicate circles on your clit.

The added stimulation is too much to bear. You cry out, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through your body as you close your eyes, giving yourself over to the feeling. Your breath quickens, your pulse a drumbeat in your ears, and you feel yourself shuddering, spiralling. You’re falling, flying, lost in sensation, and Astarion is both the cause of your descent and your only lifeline. He holds you steady, an anchor, as your senses return to you.

But this steadiness does not remain for long.

With a start, you find yourself lowered to the ground, Astarion holding you firmly by the hips, burying himself in you once more, his purposeful rhythm replaced with an erratic, senseless pounding in the final throes of his pleasure.

You feel the tension in him before it fully takes hold, a low steady hum beneath his skin. His breath grows shallow, his muscles tightening as if holding back a flood. You watch it build, each buck of his hips pulling him closer, like a thread winding tighter and tighter. His body starts to tremble and then, suddenly, it breaks - his breath catches, his body jerks, and you feel him give in, a surge of release that ripples through him like a passing storm. You find yourself moaning in response to the intensity, lost in the tension heavy in the air. Somewhere in the midst of his climax, you realise, he had pulled out of you, as you feel the coolness of his release on your abdomen.

He exhales, spent, the fire that had burned so hot now just a quiet warmth.

In the aftermath, silence falls over the clearing, bar your shared panting. The night air, cool against your heated skin, brings you gently back to reality.

“That… was amazing,” you breathe, still somewhat dazed.

Astarion chuckles, leaning his forehead delicately against yours. “You sound surprised,” he teases.

“Not surprised. I just had no idea I could even feel like that.”

Astarion's lips curl into a smug smile. “You just needed an expert’s touch.”

You laugh, giddy and carefree from the lingering euphoria. “Gods, all this talk of your touch might just make me want to go again.”

“Tempting,” he purrs. “But even I need a moment to recover, love.”

With that, he rolls off of you, settling beside you on the grass. You turn to look at him, taking in the sight of his profile in the moonlight, smiling as you notice the charmingly dishevelled state of his hair, a few errant strands falling across his forehead.

He seemingly feels your gaze, turning to meet it. The moonlight catches in his crimson eyes, causing them to glitter with his usual mischief, and something darker, more complex.

You recall his eyes in the throes of passion… a glazing over; a distance that you couldn't quite understand. The look had vanished as quickly as it appeared, just like all the others. The vigour with which he renewed his efforts to pleasure you was almost enough to make you forget the moment.

Almost.

Alas, you are ever the overthinker.

You find yourself spurred on by thoughts and feelings you don't quite understand. A need to experiment.

Acting on impulse, you shift closer to Astarion. You hesitate for a moment, then slowly, carefully, you rest your head on his chest. You feel him tense for a moment.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice a mixture of confusion and wariness.

“I'm not sure,” you admit. “I just wanted to be close to you. Is that okay?”

There's a long pause. Astarion doesn't push you away, but he doesn't relax either.

“I suppose,” he finally says, his tone carefully neutral. “Though I must say, this is… different.”

You lift your head slightly to look at him. His expression is guarded, as you've come to expect.

“We don't have to if you're uncomfortable,” you offer softly.

Astarion’s laugh is short and sharp. “Uncomfortable? Darling, I've done things that would make a succubus blush. This is hardly–”

He cuts himself off abruptly, seeming to realise he's saying more than he intended. There's a moment of silence, heavy with unspoken words.

Then, slowly, hesitantly, his arm comes around you. It's not quite an embrace - more like he's unsure where to put his arm and this is the most logical place. But it's a start.

You settle back against his chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathes - unnecessary for a vampire; a relic of his past which he retains.

“This isn't… unpleasant,” Astarion finally says.

You smile against his skin.

Astarion truly felt like a puzzle box of a man at times. Certain reactions of his, certain words, dance on the edge of your understanding, always just out of reach. For a person of science, not being able to understand him in moments like this was… infuriating. Exhilarating. A conundrum that both frustrates you and drives your curiosity. Each time you think you've figured him out, he reveals another layer, another facet that sends you back to the drawing board. It's like trying to map the stars only to find they've rearranged themselves overnight. Thrilling, yes, but also unsettling. You're used to being the one with answers, the one who can make sense of the chaos. But with Astarion, you're adrift in uncharted waters, your usual compass rendered useless.

And yet, isn't this what drew you to the arcane in the first place? The allure of the unknown, the thrill of discovery? Astarion is a mystery more complex than any spell you've unravelled, a puzzle more intricate than any magical or alchemical theory you've studied. He challenges you, pushes you beyond the boundaries of your understanding in ways both terrifying and exhilarating.

You find yourself wondering if perhaps this is true alchemy - not the transformation of base metals into gold, but the transmutation of the self through connection with another. Each interaction with Astarion feels like it's changing you, reshaping your perceptions, your desires, your very understanding of the world.

But these are hypotheses to be considered in the daytime. For now, you rest, as a curious yet comfortable silence settles over you in the night air.

Masterlist can be found here.

No Pressure Tags: @silverfangmarks @davenswitcher @roguishcat @sparrowbard @chonkercatto

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion smut #astarion fluff #astarion fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction

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revelboo · 4 days ago

Note

Thanks to you I'm making a large purchase of blokees transformers figures, my addiction starts again 😂😂

Do it! They’re tiny, so it’s fine. I may have ordered Prowl, Sideswipe, and Bluestreak from a guy on EBay

Skin and Bones Pt 8

IDW Megatron x Reader

• Is that him? Rumbling softly to himself, he leans forward to study the little sketch you’re making with your fingers on a corner of his unsupervised data pad and, sure enough, it is a surprisingly good depiction of him you’re drawing. And much more flattering than the pointy-denta version of Skywarp beside it, crouched like a monster. “You’re good at that,” he says and you look up so suddenly he realizes you were fully engrossed in your project and hadn’t even noticed he was there. He guiltily reaches to run a servo over your hair, spark warming when you reach up to touch him in return. “You like to draw?”

• Palm on that huge servo still lingering against your hair, you smile up at him, because he sounds genuinely curious. Like he actually cares about the answer and it’s sweet, the big warlord so achingly gentle with you. It’s really hard to believe the Seekers always spoke of his temper in hushed tones, though maybe he just keeps that side of himself hidden from you. It’s hard to believe that when he slides the tip of his servo against your cheek, though. “I do.”

• Optics half shuttered as you cling to his servo and just smile up at him, he’s reluctant to break the contact between you two. Especially in moments like this where you look up at him with trust he’s not entirely sure he deserves. Would you still look at him like that if you knew the things he’s done? Some because he was backed into a corner, but some, most, out of anger. “I’ll find you paints then,” he murmurs and your smile widens in pleasure, twisting about his spark. Your happiness a warmth inside him, slowly banking the anger that’s always there, sometimes all consuming, but never when you’re near.

• Beaming up at him as he finally pulls away, there’s a whisper of disappointment at the loss of his touch that doesn’t quite make sense to you. That makes you want to reach after him instead of letting your hand fall. He’s easier to get along with than the Seekers has been, so much less demanding. Starscream had needed praise and reassuring, Thundercracker to be talked to, and Skywarp had needed someone to listen to his silly plans and plots and encourage him. You’d felt like an adult babysitting in dealing with them sometimes, but Megatron asks for nothing from you but companionship. It’s almost enough to make you forget that you’re here against your will, because you enjoy talking to him. The stories he’ll sometimes tell of his world before the war, that rumbling voice deep with a longing that seems like it’s not for a place exactly, but belonging. And you wonder if he’s ever felt like he belonged anywhere.

• Your expression just then, it’s almost sad and he hesitates. Wants to ask what just crossed your mind, but resists. Doesn’t want to pry. He’s volunteered little pieces of his past, to try and get something from you in return. Of the mines and the gladiator fights. Carefully worded accounts that leave out the pain, trauma, hatred, and spilled energon, because if you knew it all, you wouldn’t smile at him. You’d be terrified. But you give him nothing back, keeping your life before Starscream stole you a secret and he understands even if it bothers him. Knows you must miss your freedom and wonders sometimes who you left behind and if you mourn them. You cry sometimes he knows, silently shaking and trying to keep that too from him.

#transformers x reader #megatron x reader #idw megatron

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hayakawalove · 8 months ago

Text

A Little Pain Never Hurt Nobody

Summary: Life was dull lately. You needed something to jump start you. You figure you may as well check out the local sex club, cause why not? You meet "professional" dom Suguru and he shows you a whole new world of pain and pleasure. You're in for a ride.

A/N: This is. Um. Yeah.

I purposefully didn't make it too extreme as this is your first time engaging in anything like this. I hope you enjoy.

P.S I've never been to a sex club so excuse me if this is completely wrong

CW: Smut, Masochism, Sadism, Impact Play, Flogging, Dacryphilia, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Spanking, Slapping, Face Slapping, Rough Sex, Aftercare, Sex Club, Top Getou Suguru, Alcohol, Choking, Dominance, Submission, Humiliation, Degradation, Biting, Dirty Talk, Name-Calling, Creampie, Praise Kink, Pain, AFAB Reader, Female Reader

W/C: 7,232

Credit to @benkeibear for the divider

Why were you doing this again? To be honest, you didn’t really know the answer yourself. Everything had just been so boring lately. You needed something to spice up your life. That’s what you told yourself at least, when you were standing in front of the club with blacked out windows.

It was a sex club specifically. It had always piqued your interest, but you were never crazy enough to actually check it out.

Not until now, apparently.

You wrap your trembling hand around the door handle, pulling it open to feel a blast of warm air. At least it was better than staying outside in the freezing temperature.

I’ll just check it out, I won’t stay for long. You told yourself.

When you entered you were greeted by a woman standing at a desk. She wore a bright white smile and a black choker.

“Welcome! ID please.”

“Oh, right.”

You fish in your purse to grab your ID to show to her. Were kids really dumb enough to try to sneak into this place? Scratch that, you remember being young and stupid.

“Have a good time!” She bids you, passing your ID back.

You give a nervous smile before walking further in, a blast of stimulation coming at you from all angles.

The lights were dim, but you noticed colorful shapes being projected around the room, dancing. In tandem with the lights, there were women and men on platforms moving their bodies to the rhythm of the music. And the music, it wasn’t as loud as a normal club, but it still just added to everything. It was almost too much.

You walk in, the exciting energy drawing you in further. People were in various stages of undress, but no one seemed bothered by the nudity.

A man passes you, his neck collared and leashed as he follows a woman in high heels. He smiles at you before the girl tugs the leash, pulling him further.

Okay, that’s new.

You hear a shrill sound, a woman screaming.

Your head whips to the direction of the noise, fear briefly settling in your veins before you remember where you are.

The sight that greets you confuses you.

A woman was strapped to a metallic x, her body completely nude baring her ass for the small crowd to see. Her bottom was tinged bright red. If you looked close enough, you thought you could see her skin begin to split open.

A man stood behind her, a crop held tightly in his hand. His eyes flicked to her face before back down, slamming the crop against her again.

She let out a wail causing you to jump. It looked like it hurt so bad.

And that excited you.

The man runs the crop over her skin, her sobs echoing as he teased her tender flesh. Long black hair cascaded down his back, thin eyes scrutinizing her.

Just as you were admiring his beauty, you noticed his gaze settle on you. You wanted to look away, but you just couldn’t. Not when his demanding authority had captured you.

The moment was over as soon as it started, and his attention was back to the woman. You force yourself to look away and head to the bar, suddenly feeling light headed.

You stand next to the shiny counter and the bartender struts up to you.

“What can I get you?”

“Just water.” You croak out, your throat feeling dry.

He turns around and passes you a bottle of water, free of charge, before attending to a different customer.

The cool liquid slides down your throat while you watch the scenes before you. The performance was seemingly over as the masses of people surrounding it had dispersed. Your gaze flickers across the dancers in front of you.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Yes they,” you start, turning towards the source of the voice.

The man from earlier stood next to you, eyes on the dancers.

“Are.” You finish.

He was even more stunning up close. His hair was like satin, flowing down his back. Dark golden eyes, and he was tall.

He turns his head to you and smiles, seeing the way you admire him.

“You’re new here.” He strikes up a conversation.

You shuffle in place, looking down at your water bottle and back up.

“That obvious, huh?”

He gifts you a serene smile.

“I’ve never seen your face before, and you weren’t as calloused to the play scene.”

You fumble with the bottle, the sound of it crinkling filling the space.

“Don’t be embarrassed, everyone needs to start somewhere.” He comforts you.

One look at how genuine he seemed soothed your nerves. Earlier he exuded power, quiet dominance leaking from his pores. But now he seemed like a regular guy.

“I suppose you’re right.” You finish the water bottle and set it beside you.

“So what brings you here?”

“I was bored.”

He lets out a hearty chuckle at your response, his eyes closing.

“You were bored so you decided to go to a sex club for the first time?”

Heat floods through your cheeks, you were unsure if he was teasing you or not.

“I mean I’ve always been interested, just never got around to it.”

Another scene was unfolding, drawing most of the people away from you as they gathered to observe it. You almost thought you were going to have more breathing room that way, but somehow it was even more stifling. All of this man’s attention was on you, and there was no one around you to dull it out.

“What do you think so far?”

You played with your opinions in your head. It was strange, but you liked it. Everyone seemed happy here, and there were no aspects of a normal club that weighed it down.

“I like it. It’s a bit more than I expected, but it’s exciting.”

He seems satisfied with your answer. He flags down the bartender and orders a whiskey, before turning his attention back to you.

“And what did you think of the scene?”

The question jolts you. The air around it felt different than his first question. It almost felt like he was asking you to rate him.

“I-it was good. I liked it a lot actually.”

The air shifted around you, you were beginning to feel that commanding presence of his again.

“I’m glad.”

His voice runs a shiver up your spine and you have to will yourself to contain it.

His drink arrives and you watch as he brings his mouth to the rim, a small sip of brown liquid kissing his lips.

“Why did you start coming here?” You can’t help but ask.

The man turns to you with a smile.

“I like making people happy, and it’s something I enjoy.”

You press him further and he reveals more.

“People feel much more open here, like they don’t have to hide their true selves. It’s refreshing. I like seeing people’s genuine smiles.”

The answer simmers in your brain. You don’t know what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that. What a kind man. It was almost unbelievable he was the same one hitting the woman earlier.

“I’ve actually always wanted to do something like that.”

He sets his glass down and cocks a brow at you.

“From your scene, I mean.”

He turns his full attention to you. You piqued his interest.

“Why haven’t you?”

“I just didn’t know where to start. It’s kind of a bit scary.”

He seems to be contemplating something, eyes looking up. You watch as his finger taps the glass.

“I could always help, if you’re still interested.” He offers, swirling the amber liquid before tossing his head back, taking another swig.

It feels like gravel is in your throat now, settled somewhere between your voice box and tongue. The mushy pink muscle refuses to cooperate inside your mouth.

“It doesn’t have to be me of course. I can always see if someone else here would help if you would prefer that. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“N-no! I mean yes! That would be great, trying it with you, I mean.” You rush out, an overwhelming amount of heat rushing to your cheeks.

You think you see something akin to a smirk spark over his features before he nurses the reaction back down to something more neutral.

“Great.”

“So, are you like a professional or something?” You fiddle with your hair.

“More or less.”

He stands up and leans over the bar, rummaging around until he finds what he’s looking for. Orange post it notes and a pen.

You study his face while he looks down, scribbling his number onto the paper. His penmanship is surprisingly neat, something you weren’t used to seeing from men. Then again, something told you he wasn’t like most men.

“Here, text me if you decide you’re still interested. We can set something up and discuss hard and soft limits, and also share our results as we both should get tested first.”

You grip the paper once he hands it to you, eyes dancing across the conglomerate of numbers.

“You don’t have like, a business card or something?”

He lets out a chuckle, leaning against his chin as he watches you.

“I’m not that professional. I have a full time job and a life outside of this, it’s just something I do for fun. Although, I do have lots of experience, probably more than anyone else here.”

You clear your throat and look back down at the note. At the top, he wrote his name.

“Suguru.” You taste the sound of his name, letting the syllables fall from your lips.

“That would be me.” He says with a smile. “What would your name be?”

You tell him your name and try to not run away when you hear him repeat it back to you. Your name had never sounded so good before, you were sure of it.

“Alright, well if you decide you want to go forward just text me. We’ll get something figured out.” He drinks the rest of his whiskey, sliding a couple of dollar bills down before standing up.

You wave goodbye, your skin buzzing off the high from talking to him. He was such a good looking guy, and he seemed so kind. Was this real? Was he really going to help you experience something new?

There was only one way to find out.

~~~

You and Suguru had been texting for several days ironing everything out. He asked you what you were interested in trying, and it took you longer than you were willing to admit to come up with a list.

It was partly because you had no idea what you wanted to try. How could you pick? The other part of it was that it felt embarrassing sending him the list. Sure you met him at a sex club, and he offered to help, but it almost felt too vulnerable. You hadn’t even shared these fantasies with some of your boyfriends. Maybe that was why you agreed to let him help you. There was no personal connection, no fear of rejection.

After many hours, you were able to create a list.

Impact play

Choking

Hair pulling

Biting

Sensory play

It wasn’t the most extreme list. You were quite sure he had seen and done much worse, but you were still sort of scared. He complimented it once you sent it, and let you know to start thinking of safe words. You had heard of the idea before, so you knew you would have to pick them.

Along with the list, he also told you to get tested for any STDs, not that he didn't trust you he told you, but it was more procedure. He told you he was going to get checked as well.

The day came where you were to meet Suguru once more at the atmospheric spot. He told you to bring a change of comfy clothes, drink lots of water, and come on a full stomach. Having instructions to follow before sex felt weird in a way. It almost felt as though the scene had started before you arrived.

You checked yourself out one last time in the mirror in your bedroom. You wore a short black dress, complimenting all of your favorite parts of your body. Telling yourself you wore it only for you, but you secretly hoped Suguru would be pleased when he saw it.

You didn't know whether or not to be let down when his eyes didn’t linger over your body when you arrived. You found him talking with a couple of people, ones you recognized. It was the man on a leash and his owner. The man stood patiently behind her while she spoke with Suguru, a friendly demeanor between the two.

When he saw you, his eyes glanced down at your outfit then back up, excusing himself from the conversation. He rested his hand against your lower back, guiding you towards a long row of doors.

“Are we not doing it out in the main area?” You ask.

He glances at you with a smile before opening a door, a big room inside.

“No, it’s your first time. I wouldn’t make you do that. Unless, of course, you want to do it in front of everyone.” The lilt in his voice makes your hair stand on edge.

“N-no. Here is much better.”

He closes the door behind you, walking over to a chair. On it lies a piece of paper. He lifts it up and brings it over to you. It was his test results, all clean. You dig into your purse to bring your results out too and hand them over to him.

“Good. Are you on birth control?” He asks, eyes looking over the sheet.

You straighten up and open your mouth, nerves beginning to settle over you.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Suguru sets the paper aside. “Oh actually, I wanted to talk about something on your list. We won’t be able to do the typical choking you’re probably thinking of. Too much risk involved so it’s not allowed in clubs like this. I’m sorry.”

You feel disappointment in your chest but you nod in agreement.

“That makes sense, okay.”

“Have you put any thought into the safe word? Most people use red, yellow, and green. Red for stop, yellow for slow down, and green for all good.” He suggests.

“I’ll do those then, if that’s alright.” You fidget with your fingers, digging into the side of your dress.

He smiles at you before looking down at the bag you brought.

“Oh! These are the change of clothes you asked me to bring. I also had lots of water and just ate.”

“Good girl.” He purrs, the sound of it instantly turning your face hot.

Suguru peers at you and smiles to himself once he notices your reaction.

“Oh, you’re gonna be fun.” He says, more to himself than you.

You dart your eyes away, finding it hard to look at him. So instead, you study the room you’re in. There was a floor length mirror, a large bed, and various sex tools on the wall. The room itself looked comfortable, if not for the daunting things that were meant to cause pain.

“So how do we um, you know, start this I guess? I’ve never done it before-“ you find yourself rambling.

Suguru closes the distance between the two of you, making you gasp out. His finger slides under your chin tilting your head up.

“Just relax, let me take care of it princess.”

His lips are on yours. They felt plush, molding to yours while his tongue slots in your mouth. You grasp his shirt for support. All oxygen had exited your body the second you felt him press up against you.

It’s not that you were against the idea, it was far from it actually, but you didn’t expect it to happen so fast.

Suguru’s large hand spans across your cheek, long fingers pressed into your skin. He walks you backwards until you hit a wall, and it takes everything in you to continue standing on your own. His tongue grazes against yours, drawing out a soft moan from you.

“How cute.” Suguru pulls away to speak, instead choosing to place kisses down your neck.

“A-ah!” You dig your fingers into his shoulder, feeling his teeth graze against your sensitive flesh.

He doesn’t bite down like you expected. Instead, he decides to continue sliding his tongue down your neck, occasionally bumping his teeth against your throat. It was as if he was reminding you that he could bite, but he wasn’t going to, not yet at least.

One thing you should know about Suguru is that he enjoyed playing with his food first.

Suguru pulls back and looks down at you. Your eyes were glazed over, a mix of both your salivas coating your lips.

“Wore this for me, huh?” He asks, fingers trailing down your dress.

The way he stood over you commanded dominance. You had never experienced such a thing before. But in that moment you knew you would do anything he asked.

“Yes.” Your voice trembles.

Suguru hums while he further analyzes you. He didn’t know where to start. You gave him a good list, but he also didn’t want to scare you or hurt you, at least not in a bad way.

“You’re so kind to wear this baby, but I’m gonna need you to take it off now.” His voice commands.

You pull off the dress, tossing it to the floor before looking up at him expectantly. He chuckles darkly, reaching a thumb up to drag over your lip. He swipes the saliva away, letting his finger slide down your chin, down your chest until he reaches your stomach. There was a predatory glint in his eyes, one that made your skin crawl. He grips your waist hard, turning you around.

“Turn around.” You follow what he says and face the wall.

Suguru stands back and admires your form as you follow his directions. He looks at your underwear, a lacy thong, before looking back up. Your body trembles beneath his gaze, the weight of those feline eyes searing into your back.

He steps back to grab a tool, one of many in his arsenal. It was a flogger, the handle of it fitting comfortably in his palm as he steps back closer to you.

“This is called a flogger. People use it as a whip. I’m going to strike you a couple times, and I want you to tell me how it feels.”

“O-okay.”

He desperately wants to correct you on your manners, the urge tickling the back of his throat. He much would have preferred a “yes sir”. But this is your first time, so he refrains. If you visit again though, he won’t be so lenient.

Suguru raises his hand, brandishing the flogger, before bringing it back down against your ass. The feeling jolts you, your body jumping up in response. It didn’t hurt per se, but you could definitely feel it. He must’ve been holding back, and that fact irked you a bit.

“How was that?” His voice remains steady.

“It was okay.” If only you could keep your voice as steady as his.

He hums in response before bringing the whip back down on your other cheek. This time was much harder, sending a shock of pain across your skin. The pain traveled straight to your pussy where you feel yourself clench around nothing, the act somehow more painful than the whip.

“Better?” He asks, flicking his eyes up to look at your head.

Your head was turned sideways, your lip caught between your teeth. You wanted to try things like this, always intrigued by the idea of pain during sex. But you had no idea it would feel this good.

“Better, feels good.” You admit, inhibition slowly falling.

Suguru strikes you again, this time even harder than the last. Heat spreads across your ass, the action making you moan out. Pure ecstasy. Your arms tremble as you keep yourself against the wall.

Your eyes dart to the side to catch a glimpse as best as you can of the man. He looks nothing short of a god behind you, tall and unwavering. His raven locks flow down his shoulders, keen eyes focused on your figure.

Suguru sets the flogger down before pulling a hairband out, dragging his fingers through his hair as he gathers it all into a bun. Can’t have any hair getting in the way of his vision, after all.

He picks the flogger back up and drags it across your backside, sending goosebumps across your skin.

“Keep your face forward.” There was that commanding voice again.

You snap your head forward once more, eyes boring into the wall in front of you. Anticipation settles in your veins, heart racing at the idea of him hitting you again.

“I'm going to keep going, and I want you to count after every single one.”

“What happens if I lose count?”

“Don’t.”

He strikes you once more, a sob racking your body. A temporary moment of bliss settles over your bones before you remember what he told you to do.

“One.”

“That’s a good girl.”

Again. Again. Again.

Each strike was more painful than the last. Every time he made contact with your skin, you jumped forward and groaned out.

He continues bringing the flogger down on your ass, each time making you cry out. Your voice shaky each time you counted. Tears were blearing your eyes from the pain, from the pleasure. You find it hard to stay standing up, the room spinning around you and your knees almost buckling underneath you.

Suguru keeps his eyes trained on your ass, noticing the beginnings of marks start to form. It pleased him greatly to see your skin react, the mere sight causing his slacks to tighten.

“F-f-f-fifty!” You sob.

Suguru sets the flogger down and spins you around, almost groaning from the sight of your tear stricken face.

“Did so good princess. What’s your color?” He asks, dragging his hands up your shoulders, rubbing your skin soothingly.

It was almost hard to believe those hands were the same ones causing you so much pain.

“Green, green.” You look up desperately at him, needing to know what else he had in store for you.

He brings a hand up, the back of his forefinger swiping beneath your lash line under both sides. He watches the way your tears coat his skin, and it takes everything in him not to bring his finger up to his mouth to lick off the salty remenents of the calamity he caused.

“Good.” He says.

He didn’t even break a sweat, meanwhile your chest was heaving like you ran a marathon. A part of you was desperate to see him at his worst, see what he looked like when he really went all in.

“Get on your knees.” His voice was soft but demanding.

You sink to your knees and look up, waiting for more instructions. He smoothed a hand over your head before bringing you closer.

“You know what to do from here. Unless, that pretty brain of yours is already too far gone.”

You look down at the hard bulge in front of you. His pants were hardly doing anything, you could see the outline of it all. Your hands reach up and fumble before finally successfully dragging his pants and underwear down, his cock jumping out.

You feel drool pile up behind your lips, your tongue feeling too heavy in your mouth. You had been with guys before, but you were sure no one compared to him.

His angry tip stands at attention while you bring your lips down, popping his cock in your mouth. It felt somehow larger in your mouth than it looked, and it didn’t look small. It fills you to the brim, your cunt throbbing as his heavy cock rests against your tongue. Suguru hisses at the feeling of your wet mouth engulfing him. He was sensitive and needy. Hearing your cries got him more riled up than he had led on.

Your tongue slides around his cock while you take more into your mouth. His cock slides down your throat, oxygen slowly depleting from your lungs. Suguru keeps his hands to his sides, merely observing you. It felt like you were putting on a show for him.

Spit begins to flow freely from your lips, dripping from the corners of your mouth while you move your head back and forth along his cock. There was a fire underneath you, the raw flesh of your ass clawing at you.

You couldn’t focus on that though, there was only him.

“Oh right, you said you wanted to try choking right?” He begins.

You look up at him, your eyes starting to water again.

“Take all of it in and hold it.” He demands. “You can manage that, can’t you pretty baby?”

You squeeze your eyes shut while you slide down further, his pubic bone meeting your nose. You couldn’t breathe at all, your body quickly setting off alarms to get you to back off. But he gave you an order, and you intended on listening to it.

You couldn’t breathe. You needed to breathe. But, you didn’t want to. The feeling of lightheadedness made your clit throb. Knowing that his cock was in control of whether or not you deserved oxygen.

Suguru chuckles softly and leans his head back, closing his eyes. He could feel the way your throat clenched around him, feel your lips adjust around him.

After what felt like an eternity he finally looked back down at you. Something akin to pride laces his features.

“Release.” With that, you tear your head away, gasping as air fills you once more.

Long strings of saliva connects you to his cock, lewd in a way that almost made you flustered.

“Continue.”

You slide his cock back into your mouth once you feel able. You’re more faster the second time around, your throat having already been melded into the shape of his cock. His brows furrow while he watches you, groans escaping his mouth.

You decide you could do this forever. Nothing else mattered when you were pleasing him, you would continue to do so if he let you.

However, he had other plans.

“That’s it.” He says, pulling his cock from you.

You go to wipe the tears and spit from your face but he grabs your wrist before you’re able.

“Leave it.”

Suguru helps you to your feet, the action once more astoundingly sweet. It was making your head rush being surrounded by the two versions of him.

He grabs your arms and brings them up, placing them on his shoulders. He looks into your eyes as he gets on his knee, his hands ghosting over your waist.

“I’m going to take these off now.” He says, giving you room to stop him.

But you don’t.

You watch as he looks down, his face right in front of your pussy. He hooks his hands on the band of your underwear, sliding them off your legs. You lift one leg up at a time, suddenly grateful you have something to hold onto.

Suguru drops your underwear to the side and runs his hands up your thighs. He places a kiss on your tummy before standing to his full height again, his hands reaching behind you to unclasp your bra.

There was nothing to feel ashamed about. He had already seen you go through more than anyone else had, so why did you have to fight yourself to remain neutral as he took your body in?

His features look serene as his gaze drags across your body, no detail going unmissed.

“Stunning.” He looks back up at you, capturing your attention.

Your throat feels dry as you scramble for a response.

“Thank you.”

“Did you know you’re dripping, princess?”

Your thighs clench together and you feel the slick coating your inner thighs. You grimace and nod.

“Is this from getting whipped or from sucking my cock?”

“Both.”

Suguru hums in satisfaction, looking back down between your legs.

“Want some help with that?”

Your heart lurches in response but you timidly nod, following him as he leads you to the bed. It’s much softer than it looks, the comforter giving your ass some reprieve as you lay down on the side of the bed. Suguru spreads your legs, watching as the low light catches on the glint of your leaky core.

He bends down, placing gentle kisses down your chest as he goes. Suguru looks up and notices how your nipples begin to harden as his administrations. So damn sensitive. How adorable.

He travels down until he’s placing kisses closer to your pussy. The feeling was teasing in nature, but you didn’t want to rush him. Clearly he knew what he was doing. You might as well enjoy the ride.

Suguru places a kiss on either side of your pussy before pulling away, pupils focusing in on your unmarred thighs.

Oh, no that won’t do.

He gets in closer bringing his mouth to your skin. Your body reacts before you can even register what’s happening. Your legs try to clamp shut but his strong hands are holding them open. Looking down you notice that Suguru had bit into your inner thigh, his dark eyes staring right back at yours.

The sensation was unlike anything you had felt before. His teeth dig into your flesh, your mouth hanging open as you watch him. Suguru sucks lightly, his tongue darting out over the bite mark before pulling away. The sting of it spreads throughout you, but pure pleasure does as well. Who knew pain from so many different things could feel this good?

Suguru closes his eyes before bringing his mouth to the other side, teeth digging into your other leg. You moan out, fighting to keep your legs open for him. There was dynamite going off underneath your skin, you were positive of that.

He couldn’t wait any longer. He pulls away from your leg and draws himself in closer towards your throbbing pussy. He holds back a coo when he notices your hole clench.

He darts his tongue out, flicking it against your clit to test you. And just as he expected, you let out a desperate moan. Your reactions were driving him crazy, each noise causing his mind to reel.

Suguru dives in completely, his lips encasing your clit. You wanted to cry from the pleasure, his tongue working magic against your sensitive clit. He drags one hand away from your thigh to bring up to your pussy, feeling as though it deserves to be filled.

A finger works its way inside you, immediately hooking against your gspot. You laugh incredulously before tossing your head back, reveling in the pleasure he was indulging you in.

It was almost criminal how good he was.

His tongue dances across your clit while he slides a second finger in, both of them slowly working your gspot. You had never been brought to cumming so fast before, you would be ashamed if only it didn’t feel so good.

Your moans bounce off the walls of the room, the sound filling Suguru’s ears. You keep your eyes clamped shut in fear of what you might do if you saw the sight in front of you.

Suguru knows before you do, your pussy tightening around his fingers. He fucks you harder with them, sucking your clit as you cum. It feels like an out of body experience as he fucks you through it, bringing you down until your groans die out and the sound of your heavy breathing fills your ears.

He pulls his fingers out of you, swiping them against his tongue. Sure, he had many clients before now, but none of them were as sweet as you. It almost felt wrong to call you a client, this experience felt different compared to previous ones.

You peel your eyes open and watch as Suguru brings himself on the bed, his face hovering over yours.

“You’re cute when you cum,” he starts. “Cute when you cry too.”

You force your head to turn, staring away from him. The compliment simmers in your gut while you feel the body heat between you grow.

“Yeah, okay.” You murmur, self conscious.

“I’m serious.” He brings a finger under your chin to guide your gaze back to him.

As much as you want to disagree, you can see the truth his eyes hold. He was so damn kind. Many people would disagree with you. They would say no one who was a good person would enjoy hurting other people. But you knew the truth. Suguru was a kind man.

“You ready?” He asks.

Excitement bubbles up and you part your lips, telling him you are.

He presses his lips down on yours, wanting to share a tender moment before he fucks the life out of you. He locks his fingers into yours on either side of your head, before pulling away.

“Hands and knees.” His rough persona is back.

You crawl up on the bed, facing away from him. He takes a moment to appreciate the scene in front of him, your beaten ass on display as your cum drips down your legs. A new world wonder, if he was being honest with himself.

Suguru slides his shirt off, throwing it off to the side by your dress. Heat flickers beneath his skin as he watches you. He smooths a hand over your back as he grips his cock and rubs it between your sticky folds. The anticipation was killing you, knees practically shaking from the suspense.

Suguru slides into you, your walls struggling to accommodate him. Your mouth hangs open as he nudges into you. Nothing had ever felt so good, the pressure of his cock filling you to the brim.

“God damn it, princess.” You think you hear him say.

He sets a steady pace, wanting to slowly build up before getting back into the roughness of it all. His hips push into you a couple of times before he picks up speed. You moan out each time his cock plunges into you. You would have gotten lost in it if he didn’t snap you out.

Suguru threads his finger in your hair, getting a firm grip before he pulls it back. He holds it in a tight grasp, pain searing throughout your head.

Each part of you throbbed. Your ass, your thighs, your head. But somehow you craved more. Craved more pain. Craved more Suguru.

Suguru bares his teeth as he fucks you, your pussy tightening around him each time he yanks your hair.

Each thrust causes your mind to blank. He was fucking all sense out of you.

Suguru releases your hair before gripping your shoulder, yanking you back until your shoulder blades meet his chest. He reaches around in front of you, gripping onto your jaw, leaving you no room to look away as he tilts your head back.

His hand digs into you, pain settling in your face as he holds you.

“Tell me how it feels.” He sounds nearly breathless, his eyebrows knitted up in pleasure as he looks at you.

You furrow your brows as you look up at him, attention being split between his cock fucking into you and his hard grip on your face.

“H-hurts.” You murmur, your pushed up cheeks making it hard to talk.

Suguru’s breaths quicken, heart pounding as he thrusts into you.

“Yeah? Hurts?” Excitement leaks from his voice.

You nod and let out a sob when his cock presses against your gspot, his grip tightening.

“What do you think about the pain?”

“L-love it. Love the pain. Love when you hurt me.”

Suguru audibly swallows, throwing his head back as he lets out a low groan.

“Think you can handle more, princess?”

You agree, your mind swimming. He looks down at you again and releases your head, but keeps you pressed against him.

His hand makes contact with your cheek, a sting instantly spreading across your face. He slapped you. And you liked it.

Suguru does it once more, the force heavier this time. You moan out when he makes contact, all the while his cock punishing your insides. Endorphins swim in your head, muddling all remaining sense. You brace for impact once more, only to be met with nothing.

He doesn’t slap you again.

“Color?” You’re amazed he can even remember asking that while he’s doing this.

“Green, oh, green.”

Suguru smacks you again, his cock fucking you harder. You weren’t even aware you could moan this loud, but leave it to Suguru to give you a bunch of firsts.

Your eyes roll back as he slaps you again. He feels a deep satisfaction spread through him as he watches the pleasure dart across your face. That’s what all this was about, after all.

Suguru pushes you back down and you barely catch yourself, your hands holding you up. He puts one hand on your waist, placing the other one in your hair again. The loud noises from your connected sexes get louder, your pussy dripping even more as his cock drags inside you.

He pulls your head up, forcing you to stare in the mirror across the bed.

“Look at yourself.” He wills himself to say.

To say you looked debauched would be an understatement. Your face was a mess, tears streaming down your puffy cheeks. You couldn’t see your ass or the inside of your thighs in the mirror, but you didn’t have to see them to feel they were there. They hadn’t been hurt in awhile now, but the wounds still ached something fierce. You briefly wondered how long they would hurt. Hopefully for a long time.

“You look filthy. Utterly ruined.” His cock punches into you.

“Ohhh, fuck, FUCK!” You all but yell as his cock bruises you from the inside out.

Suguru moans behind you, going back and forth between looking at your face in the mirror and how his cock looks when he pulls it out.

He pulls his hand away from your hip and reaches down, instantly finding your swollen clit. Your body lurches forward once he makes contact, drawing tight circles around you.

“Yes! Yes!” Your voice is raw as it leaves your throat.

Suguru’s hips stutter as he feels you get closer to the edge. He keeps a tight grip on your hair, loving the way you wince each time he holds tighter.

“Fuck, you’re soaking. Pussy’s so good. Such a pain slut. You my little pain slut?”

You nod even though it causes more pain to spread across your head. Maybe that’s why you do it.

“Yes, I’m your, your pain slut.”

Suguru groans out a curse, his fingers continuing their ministrations.

“Gonna cum from getting knocked around?”

Your stomach tightens, moans increasing.

“Yes! Oh, fuck, fuck yes.” Your eyes clamp shut as you feel it start.

You cum around Suguru’s cock, your pussy squeezing his cock as you shake beneath him. The earth shattering feeling catches you off guard, electricity shooting through your body.

You register a groan from behind you before he pumps into you one more time before his cock shoots cum out, filling your spasming walls.

It takes you a minute to recover, each gasp of breath bringing you back down to earth.

Suguru slides out of you carefully, eyes drawn to the way the milky white cum seeps from your abused hole. He pushes back his bangs that came loose before going to the bedside table, rummaging around until he finds a towel.

His touch is careful as he cleans you up, fingers ghosting over your sensitive skin as he wipes away all remnants of his cum.

Suguru sets the soiled cloth aside before aiding you in sitting up. You whimper as your ass makes contact with the back of your calves. Your skin was on fire. He places each hand on either side of your face, the action instantly calming.

“How are you doing?” His soothing voice comes out.

Your eyes feel heavy as they look back up at him, his features washed over with concern.

You reach out and ball your fist against his toned chest.

“I’m okay.” Your voice sounds far away.

Suguru pulls one hand away and grabs a water bottle that sat next to the bed. He brings his other hand to it and cracks it open, passing it to you.

You grab it, tilting your head back as the cool water rushes down your throat. You take a couple of gulps before passing it back.

Instead of the sharp pain from each of your wounds, you’re body settles into a dull ache. The wounds were definitely there, and they were pleasing.

Suguru gets into the bed next to you and opens his arms.

“Come here.” Another command, one that was much softer.

You’re confused by the gesture but you scoot closer to him nonetheless, laying down until your head is directly over his heart. He was still shirtless, only his pants remaining but they were pulled back up and closed.

“This is an important part of each session. I’m not going to hurt you and send you packing.” He explains, his thumb stroking your arm.

His warmth seeps into your bones and you find yourself curling up closer to him.

“That’s sweet of you.”

“It’s the bare minimum.” He gently says, moving his head until he can see your face.

Your eyes were closed but you were still very much awake, if not hanging on by the tiny grasp of consciousness you still had.

“How did you feel about it?”

You try to articulate your thoughts, many feelings surging through your body.

“I really liked it.”

“None of it was too much?”

“No, it all felt really good.”

Suguru moves his head back as he gets comfortable. He had rented the room out for 24 hours, not knowing how long the session would last or how long you would want to relax after. He had no timeline, willing to stay here for as long as you needed.

The contact with his skin was helping bring your heart rate down, the adrenaline exiting your body. Your body was sore, and probably would be for the next couple of days.

“Thank you for helping me with this, I mean, giving me my first experience.”

Suguru smiles above you.

“No problem. I enjoyed it too.”

You feel giddy at his admission. Now that you had done this once, you weren’t sure you could get enough of it. You were already thinking about what your next scene might look like.

“Could we do it again?”

“Hm, I don’t know, I feel like you should rest a couple of hours first at the very least.” He ponders, obviously teasing you.

You click your tongue.

“You know what I mean.” You say with a shy smile.

Suguru chuckles above you.

“I’m kidding. We can do it again. You know where to find me.”

You smile against him, your eyes shutting. Sleep overtakes you, the feeling of success spreading throughout your body.

Tag List: @tojislittleprincesss

Please let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist.

#my writing #suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto x reader #suguru x you #suguru geto x you #geto x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #suguru imagine #suguru geto imagine #geto imagine #jjk imagine #jjk fic #tw pain #tw dacryphilia #tw impact play #tw choking

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free-boundsoul · 2 months ago

Text

Imp! Vega and Pet NSFW drabbles

minors please DNI

The moan that left Vega's lips was positively sinful, his Pet's lips wrapped around his length as they hummed. Those supplicant eyes looked up at him, even as tears welled in the corners from the lack of air; he really couldn’t have asked for a better pet. If the Sadism demon hadn’t known better, he would have thought that they had been made specifically for him, their body solely for his touch alone. His to debase, to defile, to punish and then to soothe and to hold. He hadn’t lied when he said they were like treasure.

A buzz of panic danced across his pet’s threads, drawing his attention away from his pleasure. A low, weak whine sounded from their throat before the sound died with the last of the air in their lungs. Vega smirked down at them, his eyes glowing in the dim of the room.

“Stay where you are, darling. I know you’re not at your limit yet.” He projected his thoughts into their mind. He ran a soothing hand through their hair, before the digits tightened and his pet’s throat spasmed around his shaft as he slid just a little deeper.

It was a game they often played, testing their limits just shy of breaking. It was a simple matter to monitor their emotions, that was a demonic trademark after all, but it allowed him to recognize that fine line between ‘just enough’ and ‘too much’. A very useful tool that he used to make sure he didn’t break his little toy in a way they didn’t truly want. Especially when his little pet had gone completely nonverbal, knowing that they didn’t need any words with him, he could understand them perfectly through this bond of theirs.

The arousal coursing along their threads warred with the panic, that fear only feeding the desire that dripped from them. It was only when the panic overtook the pleasure that he released the grip on their hair and pulled out of their throat. The sharp intake of breath when he was free sent them coughing, and his fingers wound through their hair again. They didn’t shy away from the sharp points of his nails, instead leaning into the touch as they took in large, shuddering breaths.

“That’s it, Pet. Breathe in….hold….and out. Again.” Vega gently scratched their scalp, right at the spot that sent a tingling sort of tickle down their neck that had their eyelids fluttering. They still kept their eyes on his, ever his obedient little toy. “Very good. Let’s really test your endurance this time, hmmm?”

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*

Vega traced the tips of his nails along his pet’s throat, barely touching but it still made his little plaything shiver. He hummed as he admired the bruises the adorned their neck. They were faded from their last session days ago, the Imperium stooges were much more acquiescing in letting them visit him when it was for carnal desire instead of actually feeding him. Still, the bruises could have been healed with a bit of magic, or even concealed with make up. But his Pet always wore them proudly, never trying to hide the marks he left on their skin. The Sadism demon found himself pleased by that, this little human must face ostracization or ridicule for their devotion to a demon, a race that was oh so looked down upon on this plane. But he never sensed regret in them.

“Come up, Pet. Straddle me.” The command was quick to be obeyed, his pet’s thighs straining to frame his own. He could alter his form of course, make it easier for them, but he knew how much they like the size difference between them. They liked how he dwarfed them, how easily he could manhandle them, how small and delicate they were in comparison. “Arch your head back, bare that pretty throat to me.”

Another order eagerly obeyed, their eyes dilatating as their breath caught in their throat. He tilted their head a little further back with a finger under their chin before he pressed his lips against theirs. Their mouth opened easily to his, inviting in his dominating tongue and sharp teeth. He couldn’t stop himself from nipping at their soft lip, just shy from drawing blood but it drew a gasp from them. Vega chuckled softly as he ducked his head to press his lips against their throat, gifting them a kiss there before biting down on one of their fading bruises.

Their thighs clenched against his but they kept still otherwise, he hadn’t given them permission to move, after all. His teeth sank into their delicate skin until copper bloomed on his tongue and his pet let out a shaky mewl. “Such an obedient little thing. So eager for me to mark your skin and claim you as my own. So proud to wear the proof of my ownership.”

Vega’s tongue swiped the drops of their blood from his lips, noting that the punctures from his canines were already clotting. Their chest rose in a heaving breath as they blinked up at him, “I-I am…proud to be yours.” Their voice was little more than a rasping whisper, so unused during their time together.

He hummed as he cradled their jaw in his hand, his thumb tracing along their cheek. “You’re such a good pet…I think that calls for a reward, don’t you?”

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*

Vega had never considered the positives of taking on a physical form. It was something he was required to do when he joined Dahlia’s haven, they didn’t want demons to go undetected after all. But their hatred for his kind was a wonderful meal for him, so he stayed, even with the stipulation. He just never thought about how euphoric this form could feel.

His hips slapped against his Pet’s as he thrust inside them, their inner walls clenching oh so deliciously around his length. His nails bit into their hip as he angled them in a way that had him going deeper, their cries muffled by the sheets as his other hand pressed in between their shoulder blades, keeping their chest pressed into the bed. Vega could understand why humans fell so easily under a concubus’ charms, if they could gift the pleasure that coursed through his body as he pounded his little plaything into the bed.

He slid his hand up their spine, along their neck until he fisted his fingers in their hair and pulled their head back. Pet gasped in a breath, before their voice dissolved into breathless moans. “That’s right…let me hear all those noises you can’t keep contained. Show me how much you enjoy being a mindless little thing for me. All you can think about is my cock, stretching this tight hole of yours. My hands, squeezing your body. My voice reverberating in your mind.”

Red hot desire pulsed along their threads, echoing his own. They were such a good match for him, his little masochist. Ready and willing to accept the bite from his teeth, the slap of his hand or the harsh thrust of his hips. So eager to kneel at his feet and give themselves over to him and his desires. Their mortal frame was coated in sweat, twitching and trembling as he thrust his cock into them, again and again until their mind was a muddled and incoherent mess. Their moans growing in volume as their breathing quickened. They squeezed down around him like a vice as they started to edge closer to that peak.

A growl rumbled passed his lips, not just in his mind as his pace quickened, nearing his own climax. He might not be an incubus, but he could still feel the sparks of their pleasure that fanned his own into an inferno. “You’re so close…haa…the way you tighten down around me…fuck.. you can cum, Pet, but you’ll do it with me. Cum on my cock…cum with me!”

The order was lost as their orgasm tore through them, their moans reaching a crescendo that was music to the demon’s ears as he joined them. Vega came down from the high slowly, breathing heavily as he pulled out of his Pet’s exhausted body. It took a snap of his fingers to have them both clean, fresh sheets on the bed. His charge collapsed with a groan, turning enough to look up at him with an unasked question in his eyes. Vega chuckled lowly in his throat before he lowered himself beside them on the bed, his arms wrapping around their limp body to press them against him. They fit snugly against him, a content smile curling their lips as they nestled their head against his chest. He could only imagine that they would be purring, as if they were truly a pet that he called them.

“Sweet dreams, little one. You deserve it.”

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted vega

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springsylph · 6 months ago

Text

bodyguard.

[bodyguard!john price x rookie actress!reader]

extension of this blurb. || minors, do not interact.

read on ao3

this was supposed to be a one-off thing but uh. my hand slipped? had to cut down the "price wouldn't do that" monster with my "i can do what i want" sword, and we got 3k of an unedited brain dump that i typed on my phone at six in the morning. also my first time writing something for price! woo!

He pulls out the crown on his watch, begins to twist and twist so that the dials can begin their inevitable rotation. “You know what time it is?"

Yelling secures you your first big project.

You can’t pay those bills until I land a job. A real job.

You’re almost certain your agent thinks you’re throwing a tantrum, and it leaves a coarse grit in your molars. You don’t like to pick fights. Hate it, really. But pushes are usually succeeded by shoves, and you can’t afford to get knocked out of the ring this time around.

The worst they can do is say no, right?

Thankfully, one yes is all you need to beg for. Your chariot arrives in the shape of a surprisingly low-budget rom-com, in simple terms. You and your C-list costar (flanked by a squeaky clean track record, thank god) are swept up in a soundless spiral of table reads and filming and wrapping before you can really, truly process.

But a warden stands guard at the eye of your perfect storm. John Price, assigned to you through your agency without so much as a proper word.

(“Squeaky clean,” apparently, didn’t take a history of overzealous stalkers into account.)

The peephole to your dilapidated apartment can barely contain him. blocks him—or attempts to do so—like a child might shield their sandcastle from the pulsing tide. Only, you think the tide might be more forgiving. He’s rooted in place, made harsher under the cracked fluorescent bulbs out in the hallway. They hum along with him. Faint, unless your breathing stills.

You’d feel a little more at ease if he were actually ex-military; the scraps of information you’ve been fed tell you that he’s been discharged, but you don’t believe it. Not for a second. You hadn’t been given much else apart from that and a face, but you could put together that he was disgustingly overqualified—not that you were complaining, though. Not yet.

You watch as John Price—Price?—gazes with a deceiving sort of apathy toward the end of the hall, then to the other, and back to the other end in three smooth seconds.

You think he’s seeing things till the apartment two doors down produces a tenant from its depths and price is turning, warding the disturbance off with an easy mornin’ and a wave of a large hand. He says nothing when they shuffle off awkwardly without a response, and the slow crawl of his opposite hand away from a flash of metal at his hip draws your pupil like a magnet.

It’s then that you note the suspiciously white shirt—rolled up to his elbows, tucked neatly into dark denim. hands tucked into pockets. Beard trimmed. Everything not protected by the skin on his body squared away just so, with just enough of his bulk on display to prompt that second spike of wariness.

A meticulous problem, then.

You peel yourself away from the door after an inhale and swing it open regardless.

The smell of tobacco and cologne hits your nose like a hammer the moment the door hits the bolt behind you, but you recover the feeling in your knees quickly. The fisheye lens doesn’t quite do him justice—you have to look up a bit to take another quick scan, cheeks cramping with the sudden momentum of your smile.

“I don’t see a bible or a pamphlet, so I’m assuming you’re not here to preach?”

The joke doesn’t fall flat, but it does sail into one of the weaker bulbs before it shuts off with a buzz.

“…Captain Price, right?”

His eyes crinkle with a hint of what might be a grin. Under different circumstances, maybe. “Right on the mark. A pleasure to finally meet you, Ma’am.” But that thrum of irritation is there, as is the narrowing of his eyes when you extend your hand in greeting. “Just Price’ll do though.”

Hm.

He reaches up to fix his beanie just above his brow before giving your hand a firm shake. Definitely military. And hot as a furnace. You’re more than a little dizzy when he pulls back to check his watch, the inside of your wrist now raw from the grazing of a fingernail.

You can feel the skin he’s taken with him when he looks you in the eyes. Assessing. You don’t know why, but think you’ve won until he’s looking back down at his wrist.

He pulls out the crown on his watch, begins to twist and twist so that the dials can begin their inevitable rotation. “You know what time it is?”

Nine in the morning.

Or, at least it was thirty minutes ago.

“I—yeah. Lost track of time, sorry.” You scratch just under the collar of your shirt, straighten it out when the itch turns into a tingle you’re willing to overlook. You realize after an embarrassing beat that he’s probably asking for the actual time. “I sleep like a rock,” you add anyway. Your agency had actually given you three things, not two: a poorly put together profile, a face, and a meeting time.

It dawns on you now that a thirty minute “test of patience” with your back pressed to the door may not have been the way to go.

Price looks up, finally. Rolls his shoulders back as if to shed the pileup of gravity that’s compressed his spine in the half hour you’ve kept him waiting—and somehow, someway, seems to double the amount of space he takes up.

“That so,” he questions. Low in his throat, and a tad exasperated, because you’ve studied exasperation. Went into debt to have that understanding feel like a second skin. Which is why you observe, perplexed, as he gestures to the entryway. You think you feel your head nod, and he brushes past you to push through the door. “‘Nother habit we’ll have to kick.”

Any objections you might’ve had are killed in your throat the moment his prowl begins, and your socks catch on the scuffed linoleum as you flounder in after him.

The door slams back against the bolt while Price’s boots press the air out of your hardwood floors, squeals escaping with each heavy step. You squeak out a feeble excuse me alongside them once or twice, but to no avail. He can’t hear you, too intent on following some internal rhythm that takes him to the open window, the dusty cabinets, slipping fingers into the creases of a space you’re barely acquainted with yourself.

Something like nausea begins to bubble. You planned this. You’d planned out your introduction. Picked out your clothes, your shoes, where you’d grab coffee so you could build up your integrity and explain to him that you’re not looking to be coddled, he’d just get in the way. And now you’re wringing your hands, abject unease burning in a dense knot between your eyes while you figure out how to melt into the poorly hidden pile of dirty laundry.

There’s a delay in your processing, and you don’t start to catch up until Price finally slows down enough for you to realize he’s been talking.

He’s stooping over your dining room table, swiping a finger over his tongue before using it to card through old mail. “Real sorry ‘bout this, Ma’am. Not the most ideal introduction, I know, but we’re on a bit of a time crunch. Standard protocol—’m sure you know how it is, yeah?”

Price moves to turn over a stack of magazines on your dining table, and you wonder: were you supposed to know? You’re sure his question is rhetorical, and you’re certainly not inclined to answer. But something about the way it hits the water stains on your ceiling justifies the way he turns to look at you over his shoulder.

Concern. An uncut gem, plucked from some cavernous fissure that might be closer in proximity to hell than your own flesh and blood.

The crease between his brows deepens. “You have had security before, haven’t you?”

“Don’t get out much. I do my work, come right home.” You shrug, but your shoulders can’t seem to come back down. Perhaps this was why they’d put him on leave—he couldn’t do math.

You shuffle a bit in place, kick aside a ratty tennis ball left behind from one of your pet sitting stints. It hits your refrigerator and he’s still looking down at your feet, so you look with him.

—at the last two toes sticking out of your sock.

You rush to cover it with your other foot while Price sucks his teeth. He doesn’t move, hands still planted on the table, but each time he blinks his eyes are trained on something different.

Price lets out a sigh before he finally stands upright, perching his hands on his hips. “I'm surprised your people waited this long to call someone in. Right idiots they are, I’ll tell you that.”

Your people. You wrap your arms around your middle, pinch the fabric of your shirt between your fingers.

“I can't really blame them,” you say after a moment. Tip your chin up, a last ditch attempt at salvaging what little of your farce is left to cover yourself with.

Price tuts, strangely unconvinced for someone you’d only known for around ten minutes. “You’d be smart to blame them.”

“Don’t think I can do that when I'm working for them, Price.”

“Can’t you? S’clear they’ve done fuck all to look out for you.”

And you could. Should. Want to. So, so desperately need to. But you’re already saddled with enough things to hate. Hope of catharsis is an outbound ship, a blip on the horizon that you don’t have the funds to board.

“…I don't follow.”

Price doesn’t flinch when the table rocks without the weight of the magazines to keep it steady, and neither do you.

“You don’t follow,” he repeats. Like a crucial detail has been lost in translation.

You shake your head.

“Well, that’s no good.”

Cigar smoke snakes its way into your headspace again when he strides past you to put his hand up against the door, muscles in his forearms flexing when he pulls at the doorknob. He beckons you closer, and you’re pulled out of orbit when you skirt close enough for him to reach, guiding your hand to the cool metal while he stands just behind you.

“Here,” he mutters. Your chest is a cushion, and the rumble in his chest is a bright red pin.

(Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if the crackle of a walkie-talkie might bury how frighteningly human he sounds.)

“What am I looking for?”

“You’ll figure it out.”

He takes his hand off once you’ve stopped throwing glances at him, and your knuckles sizzle in his absence. What was he looking for? Nothing…looks different.

You can’t focus. His eyes are on your neck, and you can’t focus.

And suddenly, you don’t like how close he is. You’re reminded of how he’d shoved his way into your apartment. Barely spoken to you before driving a stake through the bubble put together with your blood sweat and tears. Made you feel ashamed in your own home.

Righteous indignation flares up, and you’re spewing words you’re certain you believe in until they tumble out.

“If you’re just here to poke fun, I’m not—”

Pop.

You look down. The keyhole pokes just out of the doorknob and you look to Price, his face remarkably passive.

“Lock’s been tampered with.” He runs a thumb over the offending protrusion, watches as it slots back into place. “You should see some scratches on the other side of it. Thought I noticed something when the door first slammed, but I didn't want to startle you in case my eyes were playing tricks. Can’t quite see like I used to.”

Why not get glasses?

“I would’ve put up less of a fuss if you’d told me up front.”

He looks at you, eyes a perfect congruence of something just beyond what your fingertips can touch. But he smiles, and you think you can understand. Maybe mash the pieces together. A distending warmth. Nepenthe sinking into every orifice until you’re expelling your woes through your nostrils.

Your axis tilts when Price puts a solid hand on your shoulder.

“It’s not good to lie, mm? Not to me.”

Not good to lie.

When you slide out from under his palm, his callouses snag on the exposed seam of your shirt. You toss him a grin, a bone. “Noted.”

Insecure seconds pass, but not without movement.

It begins like this: Price walks away from the door, and you’re almost grateful for the squealing underneath his feet to fill the silence. He takes your stack of mail and magazines, sets them exactly as they had been before he’d entered. The table is righted, and he works in reverse from that point on.

Closing cabinet doors. Angling that picture frame you’ve been meaning to adjust for weeks. He’s putting things into their proper place, like setting bones before they’re enclosed in a stiff cast.

You, though, are still standing awkwardly by the door.

“You really don’t need to—”

He holds out a hand. “Relax. ‘M just having a second go around.”

You bristle, but your decision to pad over to the couch is of your own volition. It caves in when you sit, and you wiggle to get the cushions to realign with your hips. Your hands feel around blindly for the remote to your TV before remembering you’d dropped it out of the window in a fit of anger some weeks ago, so you sit back, spine hitting the hard frame of the couch. Price’s noises pair well, somehow, with the wind sliding over the glass and the neighbors downstairs.

Until you feel his presence at the back of the couch, and a thought smacks you right across your forehead.

You shoot up, heart rate suddenly inflamed by panic. “Price?”

The movement stops, and you turn around, peer over to find Price prepped to duck his head under the couch. “Hm?”

“Uh.” You hesitate. Shit, think—

“H-how much are they paying you, anyways?” Good save. Maybe a little less than good.

You feel a little bad that you’d stopped Price mid-crouch; you can’t quite remember how old he is, but you know he’s old enough for knee pain to be a concern. He looks up as if crunching the numbers in his head. Hums. “Enough.”

“What’re you looking for?”

“Saw the picked lock, didn’t you?”

“Were you really discharged?”

“Depends. There something under this couch you don’t want me seeing?”

Looks like you can knock “interrogation skills” off of your list of special skills on your resume.

Your jaw snapping shut is enough to send his arm sliding under, and you can only watch in horror as his clutched hand emerges holding a scrap of thin blue fabric. He pushes himself up off of his knees. Takes his sweet time wringing out his back while your eyes track his hand like he’s got a thumb over the button of a detonator.

If he had any shred of decency—

“Another thing I caught on my way in,” he huffs. He holds out his hand and allows the blue fabric to uncurl. A flag, hung full mast right between your eyes. Another one of his tests.

“Price.”

“C’mon, now. Take it from me.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice; your arm shoots out and you win it back in one go. Stuff your lacy underwear into the pocket of your pants and wait for your ceiling to collapse in on you.

“Can’t leave pretty things like that layin’ around.” And Price stops, watches as you curl in on yourself. Voice like the push of velvet shifting underneath your palms. “Likely to rip if you’re not careful.”

You pull your head into your shirt and curl your knees into your chest. It’s a shock when you find yourself face to face with your heartbeat, the skin over your left breast jumping underneath your nose. “I think we’re done here.”

Price makes that sucking noise again with his teeth—agitation, you think it’s agitation—and you trace the hazy shadow of him through your shirt as he steps around the couch to walk to the window. He snaps twice, and you’re beginning to entertain the thought of what might happen if you had enough strength to push him out.

“What now,” you croak.

“Eyes up.”

Slowly, you muster up enough spite to bring your head just above the collar of your shirt. Military men and their incessant need for…whatever the hell this was.

“You’ve gotten better at this. Quick study,” Price remarks.

“Better at what.”

“Listening. That’s good, real good. That’ll make this a whole lot easier,” he says, a note of appreciation that you haven’t heard yet stirring that tiny pool of filth just underneath your navel. You hum.

Price crosses his arms. Flicks his stupid eyes toward the fluttering curtains. “How often d’you leave this open?”

Your face pinches. “I mean—pretty often? It’s hot, Price. And in case you haven’t noticed,” you wave your hand to the general state of disrepair, “I don’t exactly have good circulation in here.”

This gives him pause. Whatever plan he’s recalibrating, you want no part of it. You do notice that he hasn’t put his hands in his pockets since he showed up on your doorstep, instead favoring the use of his left hand to rub his chin.

“Come over here and close the window.”

You nearly jump out of your skin. “...Close the window? Price, you can’t be serious.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Can’t…can’t you close it?”

“It’s not my window. Can’t do everythin’ for you.”

He stares at you expectantly. Your tailbone is beginning to throb, and for some damning reason, that note still ringing bright in the back of your skull. That’s good. Good, good, good.

Price catches that eager glint the moment it surfaces.

“Go on then, love.” He tips his head. “Close it.”

The rest of you surfaces slowly. You look back for a moment at the indent left on the couch, think about how long that imprint will be there until you feel inclined to fluff out those cushions again.

(Later. You’ll get to it later.)

Shutting the window doesn’t take much effort, but the swampy temperature is noticeable. You turn around a little too quickly, so you hold an arm out to the now sealed vault in an exaggerated show of bravado. I did it, see?

Price slides past you to look outside. He purses his lips when he finds what he’s looking for, and you can almost see the note being stashed into some faraway file.

He turns to you. “Keep this window closed till further notice,” and a hand reaches out to tug the curtains shut, and yellow from the lamp you’d left on last night washes over the room instantly.

“Price.”

“I take my work seriously. You take yours seriously, you’ll need me.”

It feels like a slap in the face. “I do, but that doesn’t mean—”

“My job,” and he points to himself, then to you, “is to keep you out of harm's way. Can’t do this if you don’t trust me.”

“You’re asking a lot for someone who hasn’t—”

You go silent as he reaches a hand into a back pocket, pulls out his hand and you count one, two, three square devices around the size of a nail.

“Busted lock, three faulty cameras, all outside. You’re lucky these people are idiots.” He shoves them back into his pocket before returning his focus to you. “You need me.”

You blink.

Price smiles, raises his eyebrows as if the conversation is already over. “Hungry?”

You stumble back. “But what about—what about the apartment?”

“S’fine,” he says. He checks his watch. “I know a couple guys, you’re in good hands.”

#i literally didn't plan for any of this to happen #THERE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SCENE IN A CAR AND NOW I HAVE TO WAIT #but who am i to deny price #captain john price #john price #john price x reader #call of duty #cod #bodyguard!price

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marvel-ous-m · 4 months ago

Text

It was SUCH a pleasure to take on this project as a pinch hitter with @steddiesummerexchange - I absolutely loved exploring this little camp-counselor AU, and I hope that y'all enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it!

Summary: Faced with no work for the summer, Robin gets the brilliant idea to apply to work at a summer camp for six weeks, and drags Steve right along with her.

Steve... really isn't sure what to expect. He's never even gone to camp before, he doesn't know the first thing about how to be a counselor.

Still, he agrees- mostly because he needs a source of income, and he's not about to let Robin leave him behind in Hawkins for a month and a half.

A few coincidences (and a little bad luck) finds Steve stuffing his cabin meant for 14 campers full of extra mattresses, so that it can hold a total of 24 campers, himself, and his counselor counterpart, who just so happens to be someone that he's run into once before: Eddie Munson.

Surely things can only go up from here?

Or, a summer camp fic filled with humor, fluff, and a few camp counselors falling in love.

Start of Chapter 1 below the cut!

“Oh my god, Robin, these shorts are worse than the ones we had at Scoops. I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“It’s not like we had anything else to do this summer. Besides, we only have to wear the uniform for the first week, so suck it up.” She turned towards him and gave him a blinding smile. “For what it’s worth, the green shirt really compliments your eyes. Do you think that the bandana in my hair is too much?”

Steve pouted at himself through the floor-length mirror he and Robin were standing in front of. The shorts were fucking short. Indecent, in his opinion, especially for a camp full of middle and early-highschoolers.

He sighed, then glanced at Robin via her reflection in the mirror. He couldn’t help the smile that appeared when he noticed the pink bandana holding her hair back, making her look all bright and summer-y. “It looks great, Robs.”

“Really? I just don’t want my bangs to get all sweaty and matted against my forehead, but I wasn’t sure how else to tame them.”

“Seriously, it looks really nice. It’s cute.” Steve took a final look at himself in the mirror, grimacing at the uniformed, freshly-twenty-year-old staring back at him. Robin was right, obviously, they didn’t have any summer plans, but the idea of summer camp still sorta rubbed him the wrong way.

Robin had been a camp kid, apparently. She had gone every summer in elementary school once she was old enough, then attended theater and band camps over her middle and highschool summers.

Steve, however, just got left alone at home over the summer, told to busy himself by completing the summer reading for when school started in the Fall. His reading was always done by the third week of summer vacation, and he spent the rest of the weeks swimming laps in his pool, alone, or doing chores around the house, alone, or watching old television reruns, alone. Tommy came over sometimes, even brought Carol with him once they started dating, and things weren’t so bad after that. Still, it always felt like they were using him for his money and his pool, not because they actually wanted to hang out with him.

Suffice to say, Steve doesn’t know the first thing about a summer-long sleepaway camp.

There were a few things that were making the experience a bit less anxiety-inducing. Robin would be there, obviously, and he was put in charge of supervising all water-related play, which was familiar territory. Robin was put in charge of crafts, which would certainly be interesting, given that she could barely even draw a recognizable stick figure. She insisted that camp crafts were just different, and Steve couldn’t exactly argue against that logic, seeing that he doesn’t even know what camp crafts were, so he just went along with her reasoning and hoped for the best.

The gaggle of kids that he’d gotten to know over the past few years would also all be there as campers, which was odd, to say the least- especially considering how overprotective some of the kid’s parents were.

(Joyce Byers came to mind as one such example, but in Steve’s opinion, her protectiveness was pretty justified. You don’t just get over your kid disappearing for a week, a child’s dead body being found in a river dressed in his clothing less than 48 hours later, then your actual son randomly being found at an abandoned cabin in the woods a week later with strange scars and no memory of what had happened.)

It was shocking that the kids convinced their parents to let them go to camp, but Steve was pretty excited. There was even a chance he’d have some of them in his cabin, seeing as he was cabin lead for half of the 9th grade boys, but he also knew there was a greater-than-zero chance that they’d get split up between him and whoever his counterpart was for the other cabin of 9th grade boys.

He didn’t have a list of the other counselors yet, so he wasn’t sure who this ‘counterpart’ would be. Robin said they would distribute packets with that information on arrival at camp. Robin had also said that it was common for past camp kids to become junior counselors when they aged out of the program, then go on to be senior counselors and stick around through college, and seeing as Steve didn’t exactly hang out with that kinda crowd in school, he doubted that he’d know anyone.

Steve ran a hand through his hair, fluffing his bangs in the hopes of at least letting his best feature shine in this job, as opposed to the gig at Scoops with that stupid hat. “Do you remember what time we have to get there today?”

“Uhhh, I think three? Then we’ll have an hour to set up our bed stuff, training and dinner ‘til nine, then training tomorrow and Friday, kids arrive Saturday.” Robin rambled out the information as she applied her mascara in the mirror, shooting a smile at Steve when she was done.

“Three?! Robin, it’s already noon! How far away is this place?”

“Oh, right. It’s uh… about three hours?” Robin’s timid response had Steve groaning and grabbing her arm so that he could pull her away from the mirror, tugging her towards his bed where their bags were lying.

“Alright, c’mon, we gotta go, like, now. I have to stop for gas on the way, so we’re already late, which really isn’t a good look, not for our first day.”

Robin gave an exaggerated sigh, but still complied, opening her gray duffle bag that was lying next to Steve’s green one so that she could shove her makeup and other last-minute things inside. From the corner of his eye, Steve could see various colors of fabric peeking out from underneath her toiletries.

“Are you serious? How many bandanas did you pack?”

“I need a different color for every day of the week, Steve! If this is gonna be my summer look, I’ve gotta commit, you know?”

“Birdie, I love you, but that’s a little ridiculous.” Steve grabbed his duffle bag from the bed and began walking towards the stairs leading to the front door, smiling to himself as Robin’s indignant squawking began while she trailed behind him.

This was sure to be an interesting summer.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #em writes #steddie fic #platonic stobin #camp counselor au #steddie camp counselor au #camp counselor steve harrington #camp counselor eddie munson #stobin #steddie ficlet #steddiesummerexchange24 #ronance #Robin Buckley #Nancy Wheeler

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nikoisme · 11 months ago

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Heyo!!! :D Some questions for you!

What are some of your fave parts of the Iliad and Odyssey? And then do you have a favorite by Euripides?

How long have you been drawing?

Since your "lovable little bastard" is a lil calico, does she have any neat patches/spots that are cute? Example, Teddy has a big stripe that curves across her neck, so I like imagining her having "necklace" haha. Does your lil lady have any spots that are cutely shaped? 🥺

(Good luck in school! :D Know I'm rooting for you!)

hello hello :DD this is a much needed break from studying oh god thank you.

For The Iliad,, BOOK 6, THE HECTOR, ANDROMACHE AND ASTYANAX SCENE. Book 10 also slaps obviously, night raid my beloved. The laments over Hector in book 24 too :')) It never fails to make me cry. But there's a tiny little specific part of The Iliad that is my absolute favorite - when Menelaus tells Antilochus that Patroclus was killed:

Idk man it feels so real and raw and hngngng. And Antilochus my man.

Now for The Odyssey i'm basic af but it's the reunion wih Telemachus, Penelope and Laertes :') hits right in the feels. The marriage bed story. The orchard. God fuck. Also the several little moments when Telemachus and Odysseus just,, exchange knowing smiles or glances with each other (when Odysseus is disguised as a beggar). It's just so neat i don't know why. Telemachus doesn't even know Odysseus and Odysseus doesn't know who his son is (yet!!), but they just kind of clicked together (when it came to scheming and plotting ofc. It's in their genes).

Tbh I haven't read too much of Euripides, I have quite a few plays sitting on my bookshelf waiting to be read. So i should probably, yknow, do that hahaa. But my favorite so far is Iphigenia at Aulis! It's just so heartbreaking and tragic and painful and ahdbagshjj. mannn.

I started drawing since I could hold a colored pencil lmaoo. i just did it sometimes as a kid, i liked it and was seen as the "art kid" in school (now that I think of it, I was actually more the "a pleasure to have in class" kid,, but hey i was the one people ran to during art projects lmaoo). It was 2020 when I really wanted to get into it - especially digital art, since I've been drawing on my phone and the family computer with a mouse in godforsaken Gimp up to that point - and I got my first drawing tablet the same year! Funnily enough I started drawing humans about... 1,5 years ago?? I was actually, lo and behold, a warrior cats artist for a few years :'DD

NOW. SHE HAS SO MANY SPOTS THAT I ABSOLUTELY ADORE. For example, all her paws are white - but only one is black with a single white toe:

And she has some incredible markings on her face if i can say so myself:

Especially since the orange marking goes in a straight line across her face, it's so neat. And her fluffy white neck/throat marking :D

And thank you for school AGJSJSDHHH. I have my last test on Monday so I should be finally free next week! The worst tests are over now, thankfully. This is hell :')

#asks #actually i have no idea if my cat is a tortoiseshell or a calico.#since in order to be a calico a cat needs to have white markings i think??#and a tortoiseshell has only black and ginger.#i know my fur color names okay it's the warrior cats effect.

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cloudycaffeinatedcryptid · 8 months ago

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What do you think the comfort activities would be for each counselor? Like if they had a really long or bad day and they just want to decompress at the end of it?

ooooh thank you so much for this <3 this is the perfect break between writing binges & i love this question!! prepare for a lot of headcanons, i had to think about this a lot

Abi - i think she draws, that's pretty canon, it calms her down. i also think she paints when she really wants to zone out & not think (she loves watercolor but she's been experimenting with acrylics lately) & she does a lot of landscape paintings. the only color that usually sits untouched is red. the smears on her fingers bring up bad memories. she also burns relaxing incense & listens to soothing instrumental tracks

Ryan - he listens to his podcast usually, but i think his sister plays piano (she's very good) & she often gets him to sit down so she can teach him scales or beginner songs & it relaxes him. otherwise i can see him settling down in the comfortable chair wedged in the corner of his room with his drawing tablet, lights dim, & just working on some art. occasionally his sis barges in to play her DS on his bed while he does & then they both just exist together in silence

Nick - they give us so little about Nick that i honestly could just say anything about this freak. but i think he gets stoned & watches terrible movies when he needs to decompress. he's seen Llamageddon eight times. i can also see him going for short walks or half-listening to nature documentaries while he cooks

Emma - when she needs to wind down, she love taking hot baths. she has a ton of bath bombs & oils & products, so she lights some scented candles, turns off the lights, puts on some relaxing tunes, & soaks. i also think she learned to sew so she could mend her own expensive clothes, but then she ended up enjoying it, so she sew/embroiders sometimes on the side to relax. she prolly does yoga too

Kaitlyn - she goes for runs, for sure. it's good exercise, builds her stamina, & helps keep her mind off... everything. she likes the early morning runs when it's just chilly enough to barely see her breath & she has a killer playlist for them. her guilty pleasure is rupaul's drag race & so every season you can catch her, fresh out of the shower, in her sweats, mug of coffee in hands & a bottle of wine on the table, pore strips on, enraptured & getting way too intense about the show

Dylan - this mans pops three edibles & opens the NASA website so he can watch space in real time. if he can manage it, he'll lay for hours on the floor with his cat purring on his chest. sometimes he'll watch cartoons or sci-fi shows to zone out, or he'll put on his headphones & try to forget the world. no i'm not projecting

Jacob - he strikes me as the kind of person who considers working out to be relaxing, so he spends a lot of his free time doing that. otherwise i see him being into cheesy rom-coms (altho he'd never admit it) so some nights he makes himself some popcorn, mixes in m&ms, & settles in to watch The Notebook for the tenth time

Laura - she's def one of those ppl who can't go too long without doing something so her "relaxing" time is usually cleaning, animal care - possibly a gamer. she likes staying busy. whenever she actually settles down to relax, it's usually with & bc of Max. they play checkers together & watch movies they can make fun of. they binge criminal minds together. she's not great in the kitchen but she helps Max bake sometimes & she's an expert on the grill. i think she would enjoy taking up gardening if they get their own property

Max - he loves his relaxation time. he bakes, he naps, he definitely would enjoy gardening, but he always relaxes easier when he's with Laura <3 he prolly plays idle video games like animal crossing, he was for sure heavy into pokemon, & he loves cartoons. the most relaxing time of the day for him is 3pm, when he can eat cereal on the couch & watch scooby-doo, & he doesn't need a blanket bc the blinds are open & the sun keeps him warm :)

#projection? don't know her #don't worry about my brain #i would love to hear other ppl's opinions on this #i had to soul vibe for this one #im Not Normal about these characters #pry them from my cold dead talons #the quarry #ask moth

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tmbatcat · 8 months ago

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YEAH!!! YEAH!!!!!!!!!! TELL ME ABOUT YOUR SKILLS!!! :D!!!!!

HEELL YYEE!!! Let me just spill my guts out !!

This may be a little long :]

(You may know this but is good to recap)

Ok, small story time! Basically I drew them becourse I read spilledkaleidoscopes works and in the second part Kim gets his own skills and there are only 8 and I was like "Fuck, If I were to make my own skill I am not forced to the albatrairie number 24 and also not forced to include all of physique and motorics gangs and i could just mix and match and nobody would care." so that's basically what I did

i took me 20 hours to figure their designs out (I am not kidding btw, i looked through the ibispaint recording) and 10 more to render them out to a point that i would say it's acceptable (i would have stayed longer if i wasn't physically and mentally tired of this little project and i also told myself that they will never be perfect and that OK)

more drawings for your pleasure (some not posted yet)

Ok now let's actually talk about the 8 dummies: (i will compare them to Harry's skills and other stuff for better understanding)(also I will includes an edgy description) [anything in square brackets are just my notes over the skill]

DOUBT - LOGIC + anxiety + masking - Logic tainted by how many times you got burned. You now know what to hide; all your cracks and imperfections. Your mask won't peel from your face, you forgot to take it off at some point and now you don't ever remember what you look like. Good luck with that, people would hate you more without it and you know it; I bore that though your head everyday.

[The little Jean in all of us. A strung up anxious mess that can't understand that people actually like you and that perfection is impossible. A lil hater.]

MECHANICAL HEART - EMPATHY + video game/movie logic - Understansing through empathy and pattern recognition. Don't understand someone? That's OK, use your vast knowledge of media to put them into little boxes and label them. People are more complicated than that but I am just a tool. I tune in on everyone and everythings frequency and if you don't understand something you look through the file drawer of your mind.

[My internet riddled brain can only understand tropes. I have so much brainrot that it can not be contained, it spreds to everything]

SENSOR - ENDURANCE + PERCEPTION + INTERFACING + autism - Caretaker of the temple. For other people it's automatic. Sadly, yours isn't. You forget to eat if nobody reminds you. So that's why I'm here. Your nerves are also more sensitive than most. It doesn't help that the world has so many textures and hard edges. I relay all the info as soon as I get it, though it's late most of the time.

KNOW-HOW - ADHD info dump (basically ENCYCLOPEDIE) - Keeper of the librarys. You know, your mind is like a library, but without any of the labeling a normal library would use. More of a big collection of storys and fun-facts you know. When you don't ask them for a piece of information in particular, they chime in with something that is vaguely connected to the conversation.

WILLPOWER - VOLITION + a crumb of SHIVERS - Makeing peace with it all. I am silent most of the time but not, because I don't care. I talk only to remind you of the world's humanity. When you are at ypur lowest. You need to go on. You can take a break, maybe cry a little, but never actually give up. The world doesn't end with you, and it's worse without you in it.

[they don't talk a lot cuz I am a depressed lil bitch]

DAY DREAM - INLAND EMPIRE + VISUALIZATION + CONCEPTUALIZATION - Close your eyes and see other worlds. Colors, characters, ideas, scenarios; all swirling in that little head of yours. They just make the puppets move for your own amusement. They unfortunately play with your puppet too, making you watch scenarios wherein you die a lot, but what can you do? You can't stop it. It has it upsides through, mainly escapism.

CHASE - ELECTRO-CHEMISTRY + ADHD hyperactivity + autistic hyperfixation - Longing for paradise and ambrosia. Comfort over anything else. They love to indulge and party. Not actually party. You know, more like watching youtube alone or with friends while eating chips at 2 AM. That is your type of party. Your batteries run low most of time, so a good game and a snack also work.

[ELECTRO-CHEMISTRY but a bit chiller, no drug related stuff, if sugar doesn't count. They just love good brain juice]

FLARE - HALF LIGHT + PAIN THRESHOLD - The fire that burns within us all. A caged animal that hisses at anything that comes near. In general it sits in corner, waiting, only popping it's head out to shriek profanities at whatever rattled the cage. All bark, no bite. A problem that you have is that you forget how people wronged you, but I'm here, I remember. Only emotions, but that is enough. You shouldn't give out so many second chances.

[stressed out little creature]

They also hate each other so fucking much AAAAAA I have a headache

I also wrote a small story with all of them in another post... I want to write some more small storys of mine if i could think of anything funny that happend and that would work in the Disco Elysium dialog style

you can also make your own skills if you want, i may be annoying but I believe in you <3 don't know what else I could add

#aaa looot of text #sorry guys #this is a long one #my bad #text #my skills #you just activated my hyperfixation :]#disco elsyium #my art #digital art #art

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blue-skies-in-autumn · 6 months ago

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Bridgerton- My hopes for the TV adaptation of 'It's In His Kiss'

Honestly Hyacinth x Gareth are one of those I love the potential but the execution was kinda messy stories I'm excited for the TV adaptation to make changes.

Firstly to speed things up I think the central conflict should be the St Clairs need money quickly and Gareth wants to dodge his fathers solution of marrying Mary Winthrop so he's desperate to find his paternal grandmother Isabella's diamonds and solve the money issue. Maybe he found a letter mentioning them or overhears his father? IDK point is Gareth is looking for the diamonds at the start of the story.

Lady Danbury doesn't have all the details but is aware that her favourite grandchild is being pressured in to marriage she wants to set him up with Hyacinth but the two of them have an ongoing love-hate relationship and rarely can be in the same room without trading barbs.

They sit next to each other at a musicale and he learns that Hyacinth knows Italian. He needs her to translate Isabella's diaries so he can find the diamonds, she's bored and up for an adventure he keeps most of the diamonds, she'll get a cut/the pleasure of solving a mystery and Mary Winthrop can find someone who actually loves her because Mary is 16 to Gareth's 24-ish and he sees her as a sister. Everyone wins!

(Note I do want Mary to get her own romance and have a little sister big brother bond with Gareth).

Poor Henry (Gareth's older brother) is dead though he died much earlier in this timeline and Gareth found out he was a bastard by his father lamenting how his real son died yet the bastard lived. I'm all for tragedy/trauma so I want Henry to protect Gareth at the cost of his own life in some sort of accident. Henry dies when Gareth is a teenager, about 14 years old.

Gareth has endured his "father's" abuse and stayed with Lady Danbury until his father lit a fire under his ass now Mary's 16 and her family have a large dowry.

He's kind of a free spirit, known to have dalliances with opera singers etc. In the original he had an artistic streak and I think I'd shift it to him being more handy/crafty than the drawing arts mostly because if he was good at whittling his father would look down on it as a lower class talent. He's more of a flirt than a rake, doesn't take mistresses and takes precautions not to get people pregnant. He has many friends but few that he's actually close to.

Hyacinth on the other hand is Lady Danbury's mini me - outspoken and opinionated she's managed to drive every potential suitor away with her wit/ferocity and in her 4th season she's mostly over the courting thing and prefers meddling and hanging out with Lady Danbury. At somepoint she expresses that she wants Lady Danbury to be her grandmother but then sighs as that means she'd have to marry Gareth.

Gareth is of course Agatha's favourite grandchild meaning they see each other often since Hyacinth comes to read to Lady Danbury weekly. Whenever Gareth and Hyacinth meet they trade jibes and have settled into a frenemies dynamic.

Back to the plot: Gareth needs help to find the diamonds, Hyacinth is sort of proficient in Italian- they become partners in crime rather quickly.

They spend a lot of time together on this project and there are rumours of them courting which they don't really confirm or deny. Sometimes their bickering borders on flirting but they are just as often genuinely exasperated by each other.

Gareth hasn't actually told her why he needs the diamonds and other than knowing he's Lady Danbury's favourite grandchild Hyacinth doesn't know much about Gareth's family.

(Feeling check: She finds him to be mostly sarcastic but the only guy that can keep up with her, she hates that she finds him attractive as when they speak she often gets the sense he's mocking her (because he does frequently tease her). She also finds he's oddly guarded. He finds it funny to tease her, having years of experience dealing with his grandmother. She also does make him laugh but he like most other people find her constant chatter and strong personality somewhat tiring).

The first hint she get's that there's more to him than a snarky freeloader is an upcoming ball. It's Mary's first one and Gareth is her escort he wants this to be the best night ever for his baby sister. Hyacinth is touched by him trying so hard and wants to help out. (Insert Mary Winthrop side plot where Gareth and Hyacinth are making sure to make her evening amazing and she gets to dance with a sweet guy interested in courting her).

Gareth's "father" shows up at the ball to berate him (as helping Mary find a suitor is counterproductive in securing her dowry- also he's the worst). Hyacinth gets him out of that by claiming she was promised a dance, there's sparks and Gareth excuses himself to cool off (because wanting to kiss Hyacinth messes with his world view).

He runs into daddy dearest again who can finish his rant without interruptions, his dad tells him that Gareth's real father must be a chimney sweep etc and reminds him to be useful and marry Mary.

Upset he finds a bottle of something strong and hides away in a study. Hyacinth comes to find him, notes he's upset/angry and sits with him to cheer him up they talk instead of their usual trading of barbs but he's still guarded. Hyacinth probably steals a swig of the bottle or something else impish and suddenly Gareth is overcome by the urge to kiss her. So he does. She kisses him back then comes to her senses.

She runs away and can't sleep properly as the kiss is on repeat in her mind so she stays up translating the diary. She is determined to not acknowledge that she likes Gareth and besides she's convinced he doesn't like her back.

Gareth on the other hand is like ok Hyacinth is attractive but he doesn't love her and the kiss doesn't mean he wants to court her. So he comes over pretty early the following day to set things straight between them.

When he gets there Hyacinth is more interested in her progress with the diary than the kiss- she's figured out there's another clue and they need to break into the St Clair house to find it. They plan the logistics of the heist (and argue about her joining him). Before he leaves, he tells her he wanted to apologise for the kiss last night. She breezes over his apology saying that it was perfectly understandable; he was drunk, she was a female in close proximity, and he's not to worry as she barely remembered it.

He's actually annoyed that shes so casual about it and she teases him over his indignation as she walks him out. She reiterates that his kiss wasn't earth shattering and jokes that maybe the women he'd kissed before were being polite. Pride wounded Gareth takes her hand to kiss it as is customary then pulls her close enough to whisper something to the effect of he hopes she'll find a man who will kiss her properly before kissing her hand and leaving. (It's very much a he doesn't want to marry her yet but he wants her to want him thing. He refuses to properly acknowledge why he wants Hyacinth to like him).

A few days later the heist begins Hyacinth is already adept at sneaking out of her own house and Gareth helps her sneak into his estranged fathers house through a window (lots of chaste but super inappropriate for the time period touching). They are able to search study of grandma Isabella (who owned the diary) and find a note in Italian which is the riddle that will lead to the location of the diamonds.

They get out unscathed despite a few hiccups but on the way home almost get caught if it wasnt for Hyacinth's quick thinking. She pulls him in for a much deeper kiss in a way that she was completely obscured from the passerbys using his body. The onlookers catch a glimpse of a couple but cannot clearly make out who's there and when Hyacinth and Gareth keep kissing instead of breaking apart the onlookers just walk on.

To lighten the mood she jokes that this kiss was better than the first but Gareth is not in the mood to play and reminds her that what they did was seriously risky and had anyone caught them they'd be forced to wed. They are both annoyed at each other.

(Feelings check in- Hyacinth has admitted to herself she finds him attractive and enjoys his company, she's living in the moment and not putting a label on things or thinking about long term consequences (there aren't any as long as they don't get caught). Gareth- finds her attractive and enjoys her company, cares too much to want to risk her reputation and as he falls harder will start to push her away so she doesn't get caught up with his mess or end up stuck with him).

Hyacinth translates the note and thinks she's getting closer to the location of the diamonds. Gareth comes over for tea as a family friend of the Bridgertons via Lady Danbury and Gregory teases Hyacinth over her special friend, in the midst of such a large and warm family Gareth is incredibly lonely having only 2 people (Lady Danbury and Mary Winthrop) that he can say that he loves.

Later they go on a walk (so Hyacinth can tell him about her progress and where they need to search next), Gareth makes a comment to the effect of not wanting to take advantage of her family's good will or break their hearts by doing something that might compromise her. (No more sneaking out at night). Hyacinth complains that her family annoys her (she doesn't truly mean it- she's having fun with this treasure hunt and doesn't want her family to get in the way) he tells her to check her privilege as he'd trade anything for a sliver of that warmth. It's left mostly unsaid but what he does say about his father/miserable childhood speaks volumes.

Hyacinth is left speechless and she fully appreciates how lucky she is. With him opening up she realises that she loves him and wants to bring him warmth and make him smile. She tells him that since they are sharing Lady Danbury he can share the Bridgerton clan. She opens up about her family and her insecurities regarding them (never knowing her father etc) but also who Gareth would get on with best in her family giving him a short introduction to all of them in order. When she reaches herself she admits she's the most difficult of the Bridgertons to get along with.

Gareth frowns at how she says that but Hyacinth steers the conversation back to the heist and tells him they can search his father's house together in the day if he were courting her.

He's shocked and anticipating his refusal Hyacinth stresses he would be pretending to court her. She does her best puppy eyes and Gareth finds himself unable to refuse.

The fake courting has them both on edge since Hyacinth has accepted she loves him but is sure that he's putting up with her and he's doing his best to keep her at a distance whilst also noticing how distressed she seems and wanting to make things better.

He's shaken about (fake) courting her and at tea with Mary Winthrop (his adopted little sister) he comes clean about his mixed feelings towards Hyacinth. He's basically looking for advise on how to make Hyacinth happier in this fake courtship thing or sympathy as he endures this until it reaches a good stopping point except he doesn't actually want it to stop.

Mary takes it all in and asks him if this was an elaborate way to ask her to be his best maid at his upcoming wedding? Gareth's like no way I'm not in love, I'm trying to keep her out of my family's mess so that she can marry someone worthy of her. Mary's like sure honey would you be cool seeing her with someone else though? He leaves without saying a word.

They keep carrying on this (fake) courtship whilst searching for the diamonds and thanks to Mary, Gareth is wrestling with his feelings walking around his home and all the courting has him daydreaming about marrying her for real.

At somepoint Hyacinth brings up that the reason the ton keeps staring at him is because they are surprised she hasn't driven him away yet and lists her faults. Gareth disagrees saying that what she's saying about herself is not true. (It can't be because he loves her). Disagreeing with Hyacinth is the fastest way to get a lecture on why she's right and so he shuts her up mid lecture by kissing her. (Insert mutter about 3rd time being the charm because this is the earth shattering kiss).

Gareth is all hold up I gotta marry this girl and leaves her after turning her world upside down to go straight to Anthony to ask for her hand in marriage. (Insert the iconic Anthony celebrating Hyacinth finally being off his hands scene).

Gareth then proposes to Hyacinth the next day. Hyacinth says yes but is suspicious as he gave no indication of wanting to marry her until the proposal.

Congratulations are given by the Bridgertons, Lady Danbury and Mary Winthrop. But Lord St Clair ruins stuff by announcing that he and Lord Winthrop had gone behind their children's backs and made a formal betrothal that needed to be broken before Gareth could marry. Mary asks her father to reconsider but he wants security for his daughter and Gareth is her good friend who cherishes her telling her with her condition this is the best she can ask for. Mary is distraught as she believes she can find her own happiness and has been having sucess but her father won't listen.

Gareth basically kicks the diamond hunt into over drive sure that Hyacinth's dowry and the diamonds would outweigh what the Winthrop's offered which would let him break the engagement.

He comes over anxious to learn of the progress Hyacinth is making with the diaries but though his intentions were to talk to her, steal some kisses but ultimately return home with her still chaste- one thing leads to another and they sleep together. Gareth is frustrated as he compromised her and Hyacinth is like ??? We are getting married it's no big deal right? Gareth makes a face then promises her they will get married. (Not telling her why she needs to rush finding the diamonds, not telling her about his betrothal).

This isn't reassuring to Hyacinth because she still doesn't know his reasons for asking her to marry him. What if he doesn't love her?

They leave together Gareth pretending to have arrived super early at the Bridgertons to go to his father's house and keep searching. Whilst there they find the next part of the puzzle. Lord St Clair arrives, Gareth hides Hyacinth. Lord St Clair tells him to give up the Bridgerton girl as the betrothal to Mary is still ongoing and the Bridgerton dowry won't cover their debts. He berates him and calls him a bastard.

When he finally leaves Hyacinth is gone. Gareth sneaks back into her room to find her angry convinced he seduced her to secure her dowry and the diamonds/get out of marrying Mary.

Because he could have stopped, knowing that things were complicated he didn't have to tie her to him like that.

He tries to explain that it wasn't like that, that he wouldn't say anything.

"Do you love me?"

Gareth freezes. But the silence is enough.

She tells him to leave if he has any affection for her and he does.

Violet realises that Hyacinth hasn't spoken to Gareth in 3 days and asks her about it. Hyacinth admits they had a fight but refuses to go into details. When asked if she wants to break the engagement Hyacinth realises that no she still loves him and she wants to marry him even though she doesn't know if he loves her back.

Violet's like baby girl you are the strongest and most willful of my children. You saved me when I thought I had lost everything after the death of Edmund, you can absolutely ask your fiance to speak his mind just give him time to speak spitfire.

So she does. She goes to Gareth tells him that she loves him, and they'll figure it out together. Gareth tells her that his father doesn't call him a bastard lightly and the only reason he was legitimised is because his father would rather raise a bastard than be called a cuckold. He's basically giving her the you can back out now speech, apologising for being selfish. And tells her everything.

Hyacinth listens and is fine with it. She tells him her favourite sister in law is also a bastard and the real problem is the society that punishes the child for the parents sin. In her eyes "bastard" (if that term should still be used) is a circumstance of birth not a character trait and even if people found out she would not be ashamed of him. They kiss again.

As a know it all she then quips that Gareth has been legitimised and his father would never risk his reputation and tell others the truth of his birth.

She tells him that she loves him and she's pretty stubborn about that so he should prepare to be loved until the hatred he bore is a distant memory. If he will take her.

At this he kisses her deeply.

After reading to Lady Danbury as she does weekly she is able to translate the diary and finds out Gareth's real father who is actually the man he thought was his uncle. Gareths paternal grandmother Isabella had hidden the diamonds for her beloved 2nd son as his father left him no fortune or title and practically disinherited him. Edward St Clair bounced back he never married, but he did become a respectable member of society.

Hyacinth rushes to Gareths side eager to let him know of the news. He reflects on his favourite uncle who did show him love until his unfortunate passing and tells Hyacinth what he remembers about him.

Hyacinth does something inexplicably Hyacinth which makes him smile and tease her about it. He then says he loves that quirk of hers and begins to list every small detail he loves about her saying that he's loved all of these small things for so long that he failed to see the droplets for the ocean. They get it on right there on the carpet of the study. Afterwards Hyacinth thinks wait a second... ocean... bathroom did Edward have a bathroom?

With this piece of information they are able to find the diamonds from Isabella as well as gold left by Edward.

Now in possession of a great fortune Gareth returns to the Winthrop's residence and tells Mary's father that he must end the betrothal as he's in love with Hyacinth.

He presents some of the diamonds/gold as compensation which Mary accepts just a single bracelet or earrings as a token overriding her father's wishes. She tells him that she will find her own happiness and thanks him for being her brother. (As Gareth leaves he runs into the gentleman that Mary danced with at the ball who's bringing her favourite flowers).

Lord St Clair is snide about his pursuit of Hyacinth and Gareth tells him that it turns out his father is Edward St Clair effectively telling the man to get stuffed cuck and going to find Hyacinth.

He tells Hyacinth that he loves her and proposes to her again.

Hyacinth and Gareth get married, as promised Mary Winthrop is best maid and Gregory gets to be man of honour.

#bridgerton #hyacinth bridgerton #gareth st clair #Bridgerton rewrite #rewrite #it's in his kiss #hyacinth x gareth

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