#self indulgent self insert fic

[joker-and-the-queen]

Writing what you think other people want to read over what you want to write will slowly kill your creativity.

Write those self indulgent fics! Write those self-inserts. Write what you find joy in creating—not what you think is an objectively “good” story. If you have fun writing it, it is good. I promise there’s someone out there who will enjoy reading your stories as much as you enjoy writing them.

[littlejuicebox]

The wish spell worked.

Pairing: Astarion x F!Reader/Tav

Summary/Setting: 10 years post BG3. Follows my HC for spawn Astarion arc. See my other fics for more information, but otherwise the title speaks for itself. :)

Rating/Warnings: PG / allusions to sexual behaviors / fluff / in-game spoilers / lightest bit of angst if you squint but not really / this is self-indulgent af and idc / so sweet it will rot your teeth

Word Count: 2.2 K

A/N: HAPPY 400 FOLLOWERS POST! Thank you to everyone who likes my stories and provides encouragement. I love you all! I originally wanted to post this as a New Years Eve/Day special, but I couldn't get it quite right by then. After several reiterations, this is what we finally have! Hope it was worth the wait and multiple edits for you guys! :)

-----

If anyone had told Astarion Ancunin a decade ago that he would one day hold Gale Dekarios on a pedestal nearly as high as the one on which he held his darling Tav, the immortal elf might have actually died from laughter. The strange irony and wicked life lessons of fate were not lost on the retired rogue. Unbelievably and annoyingly, Astarion eventually found himself indebted to the wizard in a way he could never repay. 

The wish spell worked.

It had taken years for Gale to feel absolutely ready to cast the spell. Astarion waited — exasperated, impatient, and impetuous — for what felt like the longest ten years of his ageless lifetime to be given the gift of mortality. 

More than once, in the pale elf’s tearful fits of frustration, he accused the wizard of intentionally stringing him along or simply not having the skills to perform such a spell and not wanting to admit it. More than once, you had to calmly remind your husband of the great lengths Gale had gone to find information regarding the act and the even greater risk to both the vampire and the wizard if the spell was not cast perfectly and mindfully. 

It had been a long decade, waiting for that impossible possibility, but the wait had been more than worth it.

Just over ten years after you met that silver-haired rake on the beach, Astarion was miraculously returned to his living, breathing, heart beating, mortal elven form. Surprisingly, not much changed about his appearance. Most notably, his eyes turned a gold-flecked green, and his complexion took on a constant soft pink undertone, permanently tinged by the circulation of his own blood by his own heart. That beautiful undertone caused a delightful blush to creep across his cheeks and ears whenever you teased or aroused him, and you took an even more significant liking to both these behaviors, just to watch that gorgeous rosiness creep across his skin. 

And while you dearly loved that blush, your favorite part of the change had certainly been the steady beating of his heart. You would rest your head on your lover’s chest for hours to savor the sound if he let you, wrapped tightly in the new found warmth of his long limbs.

While you became obsessed with Astarion’s steadily thrumming heart, he’d become obsessed with his reflection. As soon as he’d been able to see himself, your husband had taken to having you sit on his lap while you primped and preened. He would stare into the looking glass with you for long lengths of time, his limbs coiled around your waist and chin often resting on your shoulder as he studied the mirror with a besotted, hazy smile on his face. 

After a few weeks of this, you finally asked your silver-haired husband why he seemed positively obsessed with this new behavior. Astarion’s response had floored you.

“Darling, in my over 200 years, I never imagined I would have a love of my own, nor did I ever imagine what we would look like together. I couldn’t have envisioned such a thing even if I thought it a possibility or wanted to. I simply couldn’t envision myself at all. But now seeing it? I want to commit everything to memory exactly as it is… because it’s the most precious vision in the world to me.”

And really how else could you respond to that apart from kissing your sappy, bleeding heart of a husband and allowing him to continue the practice?

Of course, the two of you behaving as innocent love birds hadn’t been the only thing Astarion wanted to see in the mirror. On more than one occasion, he’d easily charmed you into the throes of passion in perfect view of a reflective surface. Your husband’s darker, more carnal half had become obsessed with watching you two in the act and it certainly thrilled you to know he was trying to commit those sensual sights to memory. You were quite happy to oblige. 

As such, you’d soon found yourself carrying the byproduct of one of your many erotic couplings.

“That was a big one.” Astarion murmurs, and you see a smile creeping across the reflection of his face in the mirror as he glances down and runs his long fingers across the swell of your abdomen. His arms are looped around you as you sit front of the vanity mirror, placing the final touches on your appearance. 

You agree with a gentle hum, moving a hand to your pregnant belly and rubbing circles on the stretch of skin, hoping to calm the young life stirring within. You coo softly to the rolling babe as you finish your primping, “Surely you aren’t thinking about breaking out of there yet, my little love. You have a few more months to go.”

Astarion’s now-warm hands cover yours as the little one seems to do somersaults in response to your voice, causing you to wince slightly as they jolt against your ribs. He presses a tender kiss into your shoulder and chuckles, “This one is strong like their mother and impatient like their father… we may be in for a spot of trouble in a few years, my love.”

You laugh in response as you stand with a pitiable amount of effort and quite a bit of assistance from the supportive arm of your husband. “I believe you’re right… but surely we’ve taken on scarier and more difficult things than a stubborn babe.”

Astarion hums in agreement before pressing a kiss to your swollen stomach, which is hovering just in front of him now, “Surely, darling. Now let us all go say hi to Uncle and Auntie Ravengard. I’m positively famished.”

-----

You are almost out of breath as you walk the final steps toward the entry of the Duke’s home. Astarion had practically begged you to take the carriage all the way through Wyll’s estate, but you waved him off, adamant that a bit light exercise would be good for the baby. The walkway was fully paved, how hard could it be?

As it turned out, you’d severely overestimated your abilities. Though it was just under a quarter mile to the front doors of the manor when you’d decided to exit the carriage, you were no longer the young, lithe woman that traversed the wilds with a petulant vampire a decade ago. The weight of your belly slowed you down more than you would admit. Astarion implored you, more than once and with growing concern and exasperation, to return to carriage. You refused each time, forcing the driver to follow behind at a snail’s pace.

“Gods, I hope this child does not take on your stubborn streak. I will be constantly overrun in my own home.” Astarion huffs, dabbing at the few beads of sweat on your brow with a silken handkerchief as he helps you climb the small flight of stairs at the entryway of Wyll’s home. He rolls his eyes as you laugh, breathlessly, and lean into him for support as he presses a kiss at the meeting point between your cheek and ear. “But, my sweet, as much as I would have preferred we stayed in the coach, you know I adore the way you look with your cheeks all flushed after a bit of… exertion.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes at your husband as he traces his hand over your flushed cheek, his expression practically brimming with desire. The flush on the tips of his ears is a telltale sign of his salacious thoughts. If he had it his way, he’d be dragging you into the carriage right there for a quickie. But, he knew you two were nearly running late for dinner with the Duke and forced himself to push all desires aside. For now.

Wyll and his beautiful wife, Euphemia, greet you with a flurry of excitement and hugs. Their two twin toddlers run around in the entryway, a nursemaid trailing behind them.

Wyll wears a kind, soft smile as he addresses the both of you, “Dinner should be just about ready… shall we make our way there? I hope you two don’t mind. We are having work done in the dining room — my beautiful flower insisted upon remodeling — so dinner will have to be served in the Great Hall.”

As the four of you head towards the larger of the two dining areas in the Duke’s estate, Astarion wraps his arm around your waist and runs his hand along the side of your nearly bursting belly once again. There is a subtle pause at the doors of the Great Hall, and your husband’s eyebrows crinkle in a silent question before you gently press a kiss into his cheek and whisper, “Happy Rebirth Day, my love.”

Today marked one year since Gale successfully cast the Wish Spell. 

The oak doors burst open to reveal the faces of everyone you hold dear, all of them shouting, “Surprise!” in unison. Wyll and Euphemia are laughing with delight as the four of you enter the room. Astarion is obviously shocked and overwhelmed as he takes the scene in, but a toothy smile is plastered across his face nonetheless. The elf could not believe that the significance of the date had slipped his mind, nor could he believe that you all went through such great lengths to plan a spectacle on his behalf. 

Everyone showered your husband with a plethora of well-wishes and congratulations. The food was heavenly, and the silver-haired elf dined to his heart’s content. Just as Astarion loved to watch you both in the mirror, you adored seeing him eat and savor real food. You’d pursued cooking as a new hobby in the past few months, just to watch the delight on his face as he tasted any number of delectable things you placed in front of him.

“Have you thought of any names for the baby?” Karlach asks through a mouthful of food as she continues to tear into the lamb shank in front of her.

You smile knowingly. This topic has piqued everyone’s interest and they all turn their gazes in your direction, “Yes, actually… Astarion picked it out. It works well for a boy or a girl, and I think it’s an excellent choice.”

The elf smiles shyly, that subtle flush of his cheeks and ears crawling across his face as you turn your gaze to him and urge him on, “Go on, my love, and tell them the gorgeous name you picked.”

“I… I decided we should name the baby Gale.” Astarion reveals, his hand immediately moving to graze against your swollen stomach as he meets the flabbergasted expression of the wizard sitting across the table with a round-eyed, nervous gaze, “If… that’s okay by you.”

Gale coughs in surprise, nearly choking on the wine he’d just sipped from a goblet. For a moment, you watch as he blinks away tears. You are beginning to truly believe he might leap across the table and tackle your husband in a hug when he rapidly nods instead.

The wizard’s voice cracks with emotion as he speaks, “Y-yes. Thank you, Astarion. That is such an honor.”

Ten years of friendship between two men that once seemed entirely at odds with one another, honored by a namesake given to a precious babe. Fate was a truly remarkable thing.

“It’s an honor you are quite deserving of, Gale.” You respond, reaching your hand across the table to give the wizard’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “May our child have just as much heart, wit, and skill as their namesake. We will be truly blessed.”

A cake with candles is brought about at the end of the meal and placed in front of Astarion as everyone sings an off-key birthday tune. While your husband always seemed to thrive on being held at the center of attention, you noticed with a bit of amusement that his ears and cheeks were flushed pink as everyone focused their eyes upon him. 

While the others continue to sing, you lean closer to your husband and whisper, “I know we will never surpass the wish you made last time, my Star. But go on and make one anyway.”

Astarion’s gaze roams around the room, taking in all the friends he collected this past decade. Then he turns to you and grins, pausing to etch every bit of this moment into his memory before closing his eyes and blowing the candles out to a cacophony of inebriated cheers and whoops.

The elf wished for the only thing he could: a healthy child and a long life with his little love. Fate had already gifted him with more than he could have imagined for himself back in those dark, dank dungeons he once called home. Astarion found himself in want of nothing but the health and happiness of the woman beside him and the safety of their offspring. 

Though he knew it was another selfish ask, and he’d been blessed far more than he had ever expected, Astarion prayed to the gods that he once never thought would answer to grant him this last wish. And just in case they did not hear him the first time, he would be sure to make the same wish every year, until his very last. 

[lushrue]

cold beer on a friday night

heard "a little bit of chicken fried" in a white people anthems compilation the other day and i immediately started thinking of everyone’s favorite southern boy, phillip graves! so have some good ol’ cowboy smut for your weekend! (also did not expect this to be almost 4k words, but here we are)

afab!reader (she/her pronouns used), nsfw, minors dni!!

cw: drinking, unprotected p-in-v sex (wrap it before you tap it), fingering, creampie, heavy praise kink

the bar was pretty packed, but you expected that it would be.

living in a military town, you’d learned when the busy times were. weekends, most evenings after 8 PM, and holidays. this one was the biggest one of all in your community, fourth of july looming around the corner and bringing star-spangled festivity with it. the bar itself was adorned with an american flag banner that people would occasionally toast to before taking a shot. the string lights above the patio had been changed from their pale yellow to shine red, white, and blue. occasionally, as you sat there drinking your cheap beer, someone would break out in a drunken rendition of the star-spangled banner, causing everyone to either sing along or raise their glass in solidarity.

it was entertaining for you, if nothing else. watching men who’d made their country their whole lives celebrate it was its own brand of inspiring. the town felt the same around memorial day and veteran’s day too. you’d been pretty staunchly anti-military for most of your adult life, holding the belief in world peace that only someone who hadn’t experienced war could. but seeing these men who wouldn’t have known each other if not for their brotherhood of service expressing their love for their country, it almost made you want to believe in their cause. still, despite the atmosphere, patriotism wasn’t the foremost thing in your mind tonight.

you weren’t expecting to find the love of your life, not in a place like this. it was hardly the fairytale castle you’d envisioned as a little girl and the men here were certainly no prince charming. all you could ask for was someone to treat you right for a night. focus on you a little bit, take his time. if you got real lucky, maybe he’d even make you cum. the proverbial bar wasn’t in hell, but it was close enough to feel the flames. it’d been months since your deadbeat of an ex-boyfriend dumped you, and despite how bad of an idea your friends had told you it was, you were looking for a rebound. nothing serious or long-term, just a good fuck to set you right and then you could be on your way. it was hard to get anywhere in the dating scene with this insatiable ache between your legs.

you nursed your budweiser, the condensation leaking between your fingertips as you took a drink from the bottle. it tasted like piss, but like everyone always says, you don’t drink for the taste. weary eyes scan the bar and its patrons, looking for anyone who isn’t already fall-on-their-face drunk. it was slim pickins; almost everyone here had started their evening of debauchery hours ago with no signs of stopping. the sober ones were mostly grizzled veterans, watching the younger soldiers with a glint of something akin to nostalgia. you supposed that must have been them once, disregarding their livers for a night of fun with buddies that they could lose in an instant. they certainly wouldn’t be scratching your itch for you anytime soon, so your gaze moved on. 

finally, your eyes settled on a blond man sitting by himself at a high top. you’d seen him here before a couple of times. he was always alone, on the fringes of whatever drunken activity was going on. you’d never seen him so much as stumble while he was here, downing his couple of whiskeys in peace before closing out and heading home. he was handsome, you supposed. older than you, but not enough to make anyone clutch their pearls. muscular, scar on his cheek. still clearly military, but a bit more weathered than the twenty-somethings throwing back jaegerbombs.

little did you know, he’d seen you too. he’d seen how you came every weekend, like clockwork, looking like you were begging for company. it was sweet, he thought, how desperate you were for attention. you were like a puppy with those doe eyes of yours. just begging to be noticed, to be taken into someone’s arms and loved proper. he was sure you tasted as sweet as you looked. just as your eyes met his, you looked away with a blush. had he caught you staring? you couldn’t be sure. you cursed yourself for your bashfulness, clutching the neck of your beer bottle a little tighter. how were you ever going to get laid if you didn’t go for it?

luckily, your military man wasn’t one to wait around. he got up from his table, sauntering towards you with a confidence that was completely innate. this wasn’t born of liquid courage. no, he knew he had something you wanted. you clear your throat and look up as he lays his hand on the chair across from you. “this seat taken?” he asked, his voice slow and easy like he wasn’t in a hurry. nobody was around here, you supposed. you shake your head no and he takes it as an invitation. the chair pulled out with a squeaking noise drowned out by someone breaking out into “my country 'tis of thee.”

you take another swig of beer to loosen your tongue and give you some charisma that you wouldn’t have sober. the man held his hand out to you, his tumbler full of amber in the other. “i’m phillip. you can call me phil.” you take his hand without a second thought, shaking politely. god, how bad off were you if touching a man’s hand made you practically feral? you give your name in reply, withdrawing your hand before your mind runs off with unsavory images. the last thing you needed was to scare off the one eligible bachelor in the bar who’d seen fit to approach you. a cursory glance at his left hand revealed no wedding ring. you weren’t looking to add “homewrecker” to your long list of accomplishments.

“what’s a lovely lady like you doin’ all by herself?” he asked in a charming southern drawl that made your blood pump a little faster. it reminded you of those cheap cowboy romance novels that you sometimes indulged in. everyone had their guilty pleasures, after all. “enjoyin’ the atmosphere,” you quip back, sarcasm dripping from your words. you take another drink of beer. phil leans forward, his weight shifting to his muscular forearms. your eyes drop down, struggling not to salivate at the sight. it really had been too long. he tips a finger under your chin, guiding your gaze back up to him. “i think the atmosphere’d be better someplace else,” he said, his voice low so as not to be overheard. maybe it was just how pent up you were, but you could swear there was desire undercutting his words. “whaddya say, darlin’? how ‘bout you and me get on outta here?”

you have to stop yourself from replying too quickly. you didn’t want to show your hand and reveal your desperation just yet. he smirked when you nodded slowly, your muscles tense with the effort of holding back your excitement. didn’t you know he could smell it on you from across the bar? ever the gentleman, phil closed out both your tabs. there wasn’t much on yours anyways, just a couple of budweisers and one vodka cranberry that you’d stopped drinking halfway through. as you stood beside him at the bar, watching the bartender run his card, he wrapped his arm around your waist. his fingers dug into the plush of your hip with a subtle possessiveness meant to ward off any other interested parties. it sent a thrill through you, your panties getting more uncomfortable the longer you stood there.

thankfully, the cool night air outside the bar leveled your head a bit. not enough to make you think deeply about your decision to get into a strange man’s truck, but enough to keep you from jumping his bones the moment the door shut. you climbed up into the passenger seat, feeling for your pepper spray in your purse. just in case, you told yourself. handsome men could be creeps too. you barely noticed him getting into the driver’s seat, turning the engine over and pulling out of the gravel parking lot.

you two make it maybe five miles down the road before you have to stop. you keep throwing glances at phil, watching his concentration while he drives. you’ve never been able to explain it, but there’s something so sexy about a man with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh. he keeps kneading into the fat, fingertips brushing the muscle underneath with how hard he’s squeezing. you’re soft, he thinks. plush, pliant, perfect. the air is charged, the silence comfortable but tinged with the anticipation of what’s to come. it’s when he feels your thighs clench together that he pulls off onto a little dirt road, the tires kicking up dust. on some level, you’re grateful for his lack of restraint. you weren’t sure you were going to last much longer either.

you clamber into his backseat, careful not to mar the leather with your stiletto heels. he climbs back there with you, settling into the seat and patting his thigh. “c’mere, pretty girl,” he says sweetly, and you maneuver yourself to straddle his lap. the heat of your cunt is right against him now and his hands clench around your hips. he can practically smell how needy you are. you bite your lip to stifle a whine, the firmness of him through his jeans providing delicious pressure on your clit. suddenly, you’re thanking god for little red dresses. phillip’s eyes flutter shut as he bucks his hips, pressing his erection against you a little harder. that elicits the sound he wanted and he chuckles, his laugh like rolling thunder.

“it’s been too long since that pretty pussy’s had any attention, huh, sweetheart?” he asks. you can hear a tone of condescension, but you don’t care. not when there is a warm body beneath you about to soothe the ache that’s been there since your ex moved out. you nod in response and he hums, tugging the straps of your dress down. “in a minute, darlin’. i’ll get to her later. there’s other parts of you i’d like to get acquainted with first.” you’re putty in his hands, mindlessly nodding along with everything he says. he could tell you he’s taking you out in the woods to kill you and you’d be fine with it as long as he fucked you first. the top half of your dress falls away as he tugs at the zipper, pulling it down just enough to reveal your chest. you’d made a good choice of bra that night at least: your favorite black push-up with lace all over and a pretty bow in the center. he sucks air in through his teeth as he stares at you. he likes it too.

“as pretty as this little number is, i don’t wanna ruin it,” he says, his fingers ghosting down your spine to the clasp of your bra. your back arches, pushing your breasts forward. he smiles and unhooks it with practiced ease, sliding the straps all the way down your arms and easing them over your hands. fire blazes a trail down your skin behind his touch, your face flushing a pretty shade of pink. the bra hits the leather seat to the left of you, but you don’t have time to see where it went. phillip’s hands are on your chest, kneading into your tits the same way he did your thigh. you moan, your head falling back as you lose yourself in the euphoria of being touched. “that’s it, baby. god, these tits are so perfect. fit in my hands so nicely.” he brushes his thumb over one of your nipples, making it stiffen. your nose scrunches, the thrill from the contact going straight between your legs.

before you can say anything in reply, the warmth of his mouth is latched around your breast, his tongue teasing at the hardened bud in the center. you swear you could cry as relief washes over you. you’d found what you were looking for, finally. god was real, and he came in the form of phillip graves. while he sucked at one nipple, he teased the other with his fingers, rolling it and giving it the occasional flick. already you could feel the pleasure tightening in your core, threatening to push you over the edge if you thought too hard about everything he was doing. your hips start to rock of their own accord, chasing friction against his lap. one of his large hands moves down to hold you in place, his mouth releasing your breast with a pop. “all in due time, sweetness. you’re not in a rush, now, are ya?” you shake your head, eyes wide as you stare back at him.

“good. ‘cause i intend to take my time and enjoy ya.” thankfully, he moves on from your breasts to other, more neglected areas of your body. he unzips your dress like he’s unwrapping god’s gift to earth, reverent as his eyes rake across every inch of exposed flesh. the glint in his eyes is primal, animalistic. he’d devour you if given the chance. despite the awkwardness, you shimmy your dress off, your heels falling off your feet with it. it all falls to the floor in a heap, leaving you in nothing but your panties. always one for fairness, phillip unbuttons his shirt, tossing it to the side before catching your lips. his hand snakes up your back to hold your head in place, the other winding around your waist to pull you impossibly closer. your chest presses against his and he moans into your mouth at the feeling.

slowly, that hand around your waist starts to sneak down, edging closer to the waistband of your underwear. you don’t notice, too enraptured by the taste of whiskey on his tongue. you feel it when his hand slides against you, though. the kiss is broken by your gasp, the simple proximity of his fingers enough to make your hips roll down in search of pleasure. the thunder in his chest rumbles again, the hand on the back of your head tightening. “that’s what you really wanted tonight, isn’t it? someone to give this pretty cunt what it’s been achin’ for.” words don’t come. your mind is too preoccupied with the warmth of his skin to string together syntax. phillip’s fingers wind around your hair, tugging at it roughly. your head jerks back and you whine. that shouldn’t have felt as good as it did. “gotta use your words, baby girl. gotta tell me what you want or i’m gonna stop.” no, you didn’t want that. “t-touch me,” you manage to stutter out, your neck bent at an awkward angle by the force of his hand. he lets go, rubbing his thumb over the scalp he’d irritated. “good girl. you follow orders well.”

his fingers run along your slit, gathering your wetness on his digits. he smiles, his voice dropping a register as he leans in closer to you. “so desperate, baby. i can feel how needy you are. just a bitch in heat, ain’tcha?” you keen, your head nodding of its own accord. deep in your subconscious, you knew he was right. some part of you wanted to be ashamed, but it wasn’t strong enough to fight to the forefront. all you felt was burning need coursing through your veins and leaking out between your legs. he pulled his hand away, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking your juices off of them. the sight of his face made you moan. he looked like a man enjoying his last meal, eyes shut and a content smile on his face. “delicious,” he said softly, bringing that same hand up to your face. he cups your cheek and runs his thumb over your bottom lip, feeling the softness of your skin under his calloused hand.

phillip guides your mouth towards his, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. it’s all tongues and teeth, desperate, messy. you can taste yourself on him, the salty remnants of you left behind on his tongue. while he has you distracted with his mouth, he lowers his hand between your legs, tugging your panties to the side. black and lacy, just like the bra. he liked a girl with a sense of style. without warning, two of his fingers thrust into you, making you see stars. you moan into his mouth as he scissors you open, preparing you for him. his mouth leaves yours, leaning to the side to whisper in your ear. “gonna take my cock so well, aren’t you, baby? gonna take it like the whore you are. so fuckin’ needy.”

his words made you blush, heat rushing to your core. he starts pumping his fingers in and out, holding you in place by the scruff of your neck. you writhe as much as you’re able, your body overwhelmed by all the sensations he was providing you. he chuckles lowly in your ear, the sound sending a chill down your spine. “i know you will, darlin’. i know you will. that pretty cunt is just swallowin’ my fingers. she’s a greedy little thing, ain’t she?” you couldn’t respond. it was hard enough for your brain to convert the sounds into meaningful words, let alone formulate a response. you were practically mute, save for the whimpers and mewls that flowed unbidden. he picks up the pace and your eyes screw shut, pressure building in your belly. “phil! ‘m gonna-” he cuts you off with another brutal kiss, his tongue bullying its way into your mouth.

all the while, you’re rocking your hips, letting the pleasure build. he pulls away, tilting your head down so that you’re looking into his eyes. “i’m gonna make you come on my fingers, then you’re gonna come on my cock like a good girl. understand?” his tone was forceful enough that you registered the command and you nodded along. you’d do anything he wanted if it meant he didn’t stop. he nodded back and focused in on you, his fingers curling right against that spongy spot deep inside you. “c’mon, baby. give it to me,” he said, his voice ragged as he watched your face. he knew you’d look so pretty falling apart on his lap. and you really did. the pressure released, setting your whole body trembling. you cried out, back arching. your mouth fell open, moaning as you rode out the wave of pleasure. as soon as you’d caught your breath, he yanked his fingers away, leaving you empty and dripping all over the seat. you whined at the loss, but you weren’t empty long. 

he freed himself from his jeans and underwear, giving himself a couple pumps before guiding his leaking cockhead to your warmth. you whine as he taps it against your clit, his ragged breathing the only reply. when you open your eyes and look at him, he looks just as debauched as you feel. feeling you clench around his fingers, watching your face, it had done something to him. without another word, he pushes himself inside. just a little bit at first, and you’re thankful for it. the tip of him is already stretching you wider than your biggest toy. he holds your chin in his thumb and forefinger, guiding your eyes down to his. “you’re doing so good, you pretty thing. need ya to give me one more. think you can do that for me?” you nod, letting gravity sink you a little further down on his cock. he hisses through clenched teeth, cheeks burning red.

phillip’s hands on your hips are steadying, easing you down until he’s bottomed out inside you. the moan you let out is a sound you’re wholly unfamiliar with. wanton, crass, loud to boot. he groans alongside you, his fingers digging into the plush of your ass. you give yourself a moment to adjust to the fullness. he’s not longer than you can handle, but he’s thick, stretching your walls as much as they can take. the burn fades into something warmer, something softer, and that’s when you know you can give him another. you start to bounce up and down, slowly at first before picking up the pace. his head leans back against the seat, reveling in the feeling of your warmth wrapped around him. “fuck, baby! you take me so well, knew you would. this pussy’s so good, so wet. all for me, all fuckin’ mine.”

his words are slurred, his tongue heavy in his mouth as he lets himself get drunk on the pleasure. you’re not far behind, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot every time you sink down onto his lap. he presses his hips into yours, thrusting into you to shove himself deeper. you moan into his ear, bracing yourself as your shaking thighs try desperately to keep up. that’s when he starts helping, lifting you up and spearing you on his cock over and over. your eyes roll back in your head and the pressure builds again before you even know what’s happening. all of a sudden, you’re hovering right over the edge, breath heavy and head fuzzy. you must have tightened around him because phil makes an absolutely unholy noise, his head falling back against the seat.

“god damn,” he breathes out, a hand leaving your hip to tug at your hair. it was so attractive, the way he lifted you on his lap like you weighed nothing. your head falls back as he yanks at the roots of your hair, the jolt of pain threatening to push you over the edge. he’s moaning right alongside you, watching the way your tits bounce and your body jiggles as you bounce on his cock. “need you to come again, sweetness,” he says, tilting your head so you’re looking at him. “look me in the eye, don’t you stop lookin’ at me.” you obey, letting the pleasure build in you as he pushes himself impossibly deeper. his gaze is intense, unwavering. the pressure, the fullness is all too much and you tip over, your walls gripping him in a vice as you come.

that turns him into an animal, rutting into you with abandon as you ride out your orgasm. just when it gets to be too much, when you’re about to tap out, the warmth of his spend floods into you. you whine at the sensation, too lost in your own head to relish in the sounds he made. some men liked to talk through it, mumble out some incoherent praise or compliments. not phil. no, he moaned. the sounds fell from his lips as his hips stuttered, his fingers digging painfully into your skin. the hand in your hair tightens as well, causing you to hiss in pain. he doesn’t even register the sound, too lost in his own pleasure.

when his eyes finally meet yours again, they look much like your own. blissed out blues meet your cumdrunk gaze. his chest heaves as he slides himself out of you, pulling you down to lay against him. his spend drips out of you and you begin to protest, but he shushes you. “‘s alright, darlin’. i’m gettin’ the truck detailed tomorrow.” you settle, catching your breath as your ear presses against his chest. you can hear his heart thundering in his chest, threatening to beat right out of his skin. “you did so good for me,” he says, raking his fingers through your hair. “such a good, obedient girl.”

you smile at the praise, his words warming something deep within you. “same time next week?” he asks, and you nod. finally, you’d found what you were looking for.

[spider-visions]

✧ ೃ༄ੈ✩ the sun and the stars | astarion + tav/reader

"You've had a deep instinct to impress Astarion since the moment you met him. You're very aware of this instinct, and you can easily recall multiple situations in which you tried to handle things in ways that you thought might make the vampire proud of you, as embarrassing as that is. You never let it change your moral stances, but the more you think about it, the more apparent it becomes to you just how dangerous the hold he has on you is. You barely know him, and he could bend and break you with just his word if he wanted to.

You weigh these options in your head, but deep in your chest, you knew your answer the second he said anything to you."

Alternatively: you are a relatively experienced adventurer, but a very inexperienced romantic partner. Astarion digs it.

! this is part one to a two part fic! part two will be out sometime around september 17th, 2023. this fic was also cross-posted. you can find the links to the other postings at the bottom of this!

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You have been drinking for what feels like hours. You can feel your head spinning as you dance your way around camp, stopping every once in a while to speak to one of the very thankful tieflings littered about. This is fun, you think, probably the most fun you've had in years. Definitely the most fun you've had in the past couple of weeks.

You wander aimlessly around, clumsily, drink in hand, when your gaze falls on Astarion. He's standing in front of his tent, face full of annoyance, as he sips from the glass in his hand. A young tiefling approaches him and says something, and you see a very fake smile flash across his face. He rolls his eyes as she walks away. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you begin your journey towards him.

"Why are you moping over here all by yourself, are you not enjoying the party?" You ask, words slightly slurring together, stumbling a bit as you approach the deep burgundy tent.

A small smirk spreads on the sharp face of the pale elf, one that feels much more real than what he gave the tiefling woman moments ago, "woah, there, darling," he begins, sitting down his glass and gently steadying you by your shoulders.

"Perhaps you've had too much to drink tonight."

You roll your eyes, holding eye contact and taking another sip from your own cup in a teasing sort of defiance.

"It’s a party, Astarion, you're supposed to be having fun!"

He chuckles, a deep velvet song that travels effortlessly into your brain and settles itself in all the right places. You feel goosebumps begin to raise on your arms at the realization that his skin is touching yours.

"I'm not quite the type to be celebrated for heroism, my sweet," he starts, "I kind of hate this, actually."

Much to your dismay, he pulls his hands away, crossing his arms on his chest. Your skin feels electric where his hands just were, and you feel the need to yank them up and put them back.

You don't do that, though, and instead your brows furrow deeper as the statement registers.

"Really? I thought you'd be all for being celebrated, no matter the occasion." There's a hint of teasing in your voice, but it's a genuine statement. This scene seems like something Astarion would absolutely bask in.

He shrugs, a usually anxious gesture somehow made so confident by the tall man, "I don't know, perhaps I'm just hoping for some real fun to find me tonight."

You snort, a sound that escapes your body involuntarily and causes you, even in your drunken state, to internally cringe at the idea of what that must've looked like to him.

"And what does that mean? This is about as fun as it gets!" You proclaim, confident, though that doesn't last long as the look of humor that plasters itself across Astarion's face quickly makes you feel as though you're missing something. Your face falls.

"What?" You ask, eyes wide, "what's so funny?"

"Oh, you innocent thing," you can feel your cheeks and the tips of your pointed ears begin to heat, no doubt burning a bright red against your skin. Astarion leans in close to you, his cheek brushing against yours lightly. His hand finds its way to the dip of your waist, resting there so lightly you almost don't feel it through the fabric of your large shirt.

"I'm talking about sex, my dear." His voice is soft and warm against your ear, and you can feel his breath cascade down your neck in a way that sends shivers along your spine. You nearly drop your glass, trying to compose your face so the pure horror you feel isn't evident.

You can't help yourself, though.

"With me?" you ask, timidly, eyes desperately trying to focus on anything but him to relieve the immense anxiety building in your chest.

"Would you like that?" Your breath hitches in your throat at the question, and your glass hits the ground. It feels as though the world is spinning, and you instinctively reach up and grab at the fabric of Astarion's ruffled white shirt with both hands, gripping like it's the only thing keeping you grounded on Faerûn.

You take a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut as the vague scent of bergamot and rosemary fills your senses. He presses the pads of his fingers slightly into your hip, and you feel a deep heat begin to build between your thighs.

"I.." the words you're looking for escape you and you can't seem to form a single coherent thought. Astarion has always been unattainable. You're not the kind of person who attracts people like him. He's confident, beautiful, and he's never shown an ounce of interest in you before — in fact, you've always thought he felt very negatively about you, given the way he's always opposing your actions.

He lets out another breathy laugh, pulling away slightly so he's face to face with you, forehead less than an inch from yours.

"Open your eyes," he says, a quiet demand. You don't know what compels you to listen, but you force yourself to obey, opening your eyes. Anxiously, you keep them trained on the dip of his collarbone — you can't bear to maintain eye contact with him with the intense feeling currently burning a hole in your chest.

"Look at me, darling," his hand comes up from your hip, gently guiding your chin upward between his index and thumb, until you’re eye to eye with him. The embarrassment grounds itself deep in your veins, and you're sure you must look like a tomato right now with how hard you're blushing. It takes every ounce of control you have to not turn and run away from this feeling.

"I am going to leave and walk into the woods," he begins, "into the clearing near the lake where we washed our clothing earlier, do you remember?" His voice isn't condescending or teasing — you swear you sense a sort of affection lingering on the ends of his words – it’s completely genuine.

You nod at the question, eyes wide with fear and desire. You say a prayer that he won't notice how blown out your pupils are.

"Good. I'm going to walk to that clearing, and if you would like to join me, I will be waiting." He finishes his sentence with a quick flash of a smile before turning around, grabbing his glass, and wandering off into the woods.

You stand in that spot, completely dumbfounded, for what feels like a very long time. Your brain is running at a million miles an hour trying to comprehend what could have possibly just happened. You feel almost sober after that experience, and part of you is convinced that there's no way that could've been real.

You have a choice to make, and you weigh the options in your brain.

If you decide to stay here at camp and continue about the party like nothing happened, how would that affect your relationship with Astarion going forward? He doesn't quite seem like the type to hold this against you — he did give you a choice, after all — but you don't really know him well enough to be sure. What if you deny him this and he disappears? While you're not super close with Astarion, you do like him quite a bit and it would probably affect you more than you'd like to admit if he left. Plus, he's a good asset for the team. It would be difficult to get through the upcoming challenges that you're sure you're going to face without him.

Now, if you gave in to the much more desirable option and followed him into the woods...

You pause, visualizing the outcome. He would find out that you're a virgin, that's for sure. There's no way you could possibly hide it from someone as experienced as Astarion. You're a terrible liar normally, but in this situation you're sure it would be damn near impossible to play it off like you even kind of knew what you were doing. Maybe he wouldn't care... But what if he does? What if you go out there and he finds out and he laughs in your face? You shudder at the thought.

You've had a deep instinct to impress Astarion since the moment you met him. You're very aware of this instinct, and you can easily recall multiple situations in which you tried to handle things in ways that you thought might make the vampire proud of you, as embarrassing as that is. You never let it change your moral stances, but the more you think about it, the more apparent it becomes to you just how dangerous the hold he has on you is. You barely know him, and he could bend and break you with just his word if he wanted to.

You weigh these options in your head, but deep in your chest, you knew your answer the second he said anything to you.

Legs shaking, hands numb, throat dry, you shakily turn and look towards the forest behind your camp. You take a deep breath in, holding it in your lungs for a moment before exhaling and straightening out your posture, a determined look creeping its way onto your face.

Nervously, you begin to make your way towards the clearing.

You feel like a baby deer as you carry yourself through the woods, tripping and stumbling against every rogue branch and rock. There's a persistent heat that has made itself comfortable right in the core of your stomach, and the closer you get to the clearing, the more intense it grows. You can smell the salty breeze of the lake waft in your direction as you head towards it, and the cold breeze that follows after it has you shivering and rubbing your palms against your upper arms, trying to warm yourself.

You reach the lake, and it's an absolutely beautiful sight. The water sparkles and ripples against the reflection of the large full moon beating down against it, and it envelopes everything in a dark blue hue. Far against the expanse of water, on the very edge of the horizon, you can see a spot of land, adorned with bright orange lights that bounce off the lake and fill the area with warmth.

You feel like you're being watched, as you take in the sight before you, and you freeze where you're standing. Slowly, a hand reaches itself from behind you, wrapping around your waist and pressing it's palm flat against the bottom of your stomach. Cold lips brush against the outside lining of your ear, something sharp tugging at the skin for just a moment, before you hear him speak.

"There you are," he says, his tone full of approval as his other arm wraps itself around your waist to envelop you fully. Despite his cold touch, your face and sex burn white hot at the contact.

"I'm so glad you made the right decision," his right hand travels upward slowly, flat palm fully exploring the clothed expanse of your stomach before tracing lightly around the mound of your breast. He grabs it lightly, squeezing softly and rubbing in slow, small circles. You can't help but let your eyes fall shut, mouth hanging open at the electric touch.

"I have wanted you since the moment I first saw you, you know. All small and shy and pure," he chuckles, mouth ghosting against your skin as it travels down to your neck. He presses a kiss against your skin.

"You can barely hold a conversation without reverting in on yourself,” his voice is barely there, all breath as he kisses up and down your neck. Your fingertips buzz with anticipation and your mind races. 

"Yet, the moment we enter battle," the hand lying against your waist begins to slowly make its way down the plane of your stomach, melting over the curves as it approaches the heat building between your thighs.

"It's like your bloodlust overtakes you. You become someone entirely different," his finger traces ever so lightly against your clothed clit, forcing a small gasp to fall from your lips as your legs open instinctually, "chest heaving, covered in blood, eyes lidded in an ecstasy I've only ever seen in brothels... There's something nearly animalistic about it."

His finger presses slightly harder against your clit, and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter as he rubs it gently, small noises falling effortlessly from your mouth. The hand he has palming your breast begins to journey upward, slotting itself perfectly into position around your throat – his long, dexterous fingers gripping the skin tightly, causing your breath to strain.

You can't help the way your hips buck up into the touch, and your hands shoot forward to wrap around his forearm, urging his fingers in their gentle assault against you. You try desperately to hold his hand in place and grind yourself harder against it, but he's much stronger than you. Instead, he pulls his hand away completely, turning your body to face his as he pushes you back by your neck.

You stumble and trip over the branches and stones littering the ground, but he keeps you upright as he continues to lead you backward. Your eyes flutter open, staring up through heavy lashes to meet him, and you can physically feel yourself tighten at the sight. His eyes must be ten shades darker than they usually are, his pupils blown, nearly wiping the dark red color out completely. You can practically taste the lust dripping off of his sharp features, his face stern and his eye contact ruthless. You typically find it extremely difficult to hold eye contact with Astarion for long periods of time, but you just can’t pull yourself to look away from the gorgeous sight.

You feel your back hit the rough bark of a tree somewhere behind you, and you grunt at the feeling. It’s sharp, and it stings through your shirt, but there’s little time to focus on the pain as, almost immediately, Astarion presses his lips against yours. A wave of panic surges through you, and you feel the ball of anxiety in your chest burn hotter, growing and growing, as he swipes his tongue against your lips.

He wants in, and, fuck, you want to let him in, but you falter. Your hands work their way in between your bodies, and you push at his chest lightly, mouth sealed, eyes open. He pauses, pulling away, hand around your throat loosening.

He looks at you through lidded eyes, completely blown out, fangs peeking out from beneath his top lip. 

“Is something the matter?” He asks, his tone still holding a hint of the lust it did before. You swallow, the anxiety in your throat refusing to move as the heat of embarrassment begins to replace the burning desire that was building itself up in the core of your stomach.

“I…” You start to speak, but stop yourself again for the second time tonight. How do you even say this without sounding completely incompetent? You feel stupid for not having thought about this before you wandered out here after him. You feel like banging your head against the nearest hard surface for being so oblivious.

Of course he was going to kiss you. That’s what lovers do. It’s one of the first steps in any intimate encounter, sexual or not, and you – ditzy and airheaded as ever – couldn’t have even considered that this would happen before following him out here blindly and putting yourself into one of the most uncomfortable situations you’ve ever been in?

You can see he’s holding his breath, clearly expecting a rejection of his advances or some sort of big drop of information. As you open your mouth to speak, you can tell it’s not what he was expecting to hear.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before.” You force it out, and the sentence hangs heavy in the air. Your chest tightens as you push the words out, and you nervously pinch and pull at the fabric of his shirt, eyes avoiding his at all costs.

He’s silent for a moment, “really?” he asks, astonished. You nod.

“But… you’ve had sex?” 

You cringe again, bracing yourself for the worst as you slowly shake your head 'no'. Everything is still for a moment, and you manage to quickly flick your eyes up to get an image of the damage. Astarion’s mouth is open slightly in shock, his eyes scanning you for any trace of joking or deception. You can feel your face practically boiling under the heat of your blush, and you momentarily think that you’d probably enjoy the rare sight of the vampire rendered speechless if it weren’t for the unwavering insecurity you had swirling around this situation.

“Huh.” He breaks the silence, taking a step back, and your body slumps forward slightly, immediately missing the security of having something to lean on.

It’s nearly impossible for you to make out what’s going through his head. You watch his face carefully, doing your best to try and understand what he could possibly be thinking.

It’s silent for a long time. Your back is still pressed tight against the tree behind you, and the anxiety bubbling in your chest feels like it’s about to spew out any second. 

“Well,” Astarion’s voice cuts through the quiet, a smile spreading across his face. The smile isn’t genuine or even mocking like you’ve come to expect, instead it seems extremely forced, almost like he’s uncomfortable with the way this situation played out. You couldn’t blame him, you weren’t very comfortable with it either.

“My apologies, then,” he says, turning on his heels and beginning to walk back toward camp. Your mouth falls open in shock, your eyebrows furrowing together. You open your mouth to call for him, but nothing comes out, and he quickly disappears into the dense trees.

After a moment, you begin to slide your body down the tree, slumping to the ground, defeated, and you stay there for a long time. Distantly, you can hear the sound of the party starting to die down. You do your best not to cry, but you just can’t help it as the waves of embarrassment wash over you. You feel stupid, you feel self-conscious, you feel frustrated. The emotion just crashes down on you like a ton of rocks.

You don’t return to camp until you’re sure everyone is asleep.

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✦ archiveofourown

✦ wattpad

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I am currently looking for beta readers and editors for my fics! i cannot pay you for this job, but i can give u access to my super cool discord server - full of BG3 and DND nerds - where you will get the coveted "buzz's beta" role. please, shawty, i'm desperate!

if you are interested in doing this please shoot me a message, either here or over on discord (username: buzzbey#4141 [case sensitive!]).

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[brain-r0tten]

inspired by a fanfic written by ragg3dy4ndy

[alwaysthefool]

Is your req open? If so, then can we see Sigma's reaction to oblivious y/n getting closer to Nikolai and him getting jealous?

Idk how many months ago you must’ve sent that I’m so sorry but if you’re still around… (😭)

Warnings; a bit suggestive

Reverence (Sigma)

Nikolai had to be doing this on purpose.

He spent the whole day with you, using the excuse of work, but instead goofing off with you, keeping a hand on you at all times, and worst of all, making sure Sigma saw it. At dinner time, when Sigma finally thought he’d get some time alone with you, he sat beside you, throwing his hand across your shoulder.

“You guys didn’t tell me we were having a company dinner!” Nikolai chimed.

You smiled politely, but Sigma slammed his fork on the table. “That’s because it was supposed to be a date.”

“A date? Then what are you doing here, Sigma? Leave me and [name] alone.” Nikolai pulled you closer, laughing as if he had just made the funniest joke in the world. That much was fine, but it broke something inside Sigma when he saw you giggle a little at that too.

“Fine.” He stood up, having had enough. “You two enjoy.”

He walked out of the restaurant, still telling the manager to put the bill on his tab, knowing you didn’t mean anything bad by it. You’d never purposely do anything to hurt him, you just didn’t understand what he was trying. And still, that did not help reduce the pain. It hurt so much that as soon as he was out of the establishment, he had to put a hand on the wall outside, taking it all in. Did he just lose you?

Sure, whatever, you’re better off with him anyway.

Nikolai was funnier, he had more personality, he had more experience, he had-

“Hey!” You broke Sigma out of his thoughts, looking up at him concerned. He only glanced at you, looking down again, half his balance resting on his hand that leaned on the wall.

“Are you in pain, Sig?” You took his hand off the wall and held it with yours instead, the other on his shoulder. He didn’t want to throw his whole weight on you, so he tried to stand up taller. Somehow, his head remained heavy and bowed, almost like in reverence to you. A prayer to you, ‘please don’t leave me’.

“Yeah, I’m hurt.” He felt guilty if it seemed he blamed you for it, but he needed your comfort.

“How?” The concern and confusion in your voice was enough to make him melt. You didn’t even realise you were the one who was tearing a hole in his being. And even if you did, he’d gladly take a bullet if you were the one shooting it. For now, he wasn’t sure what to say to you. He didn’t want to be the kind of boyfriend who’d tell you not to hang out with someone you laughed with.

“I want to be the one who makes you laugh.” He confessed, unable to say he was jealous. But his clear eyes and heart gave everything away, bringing a smile to your face.

You threw your arms around Sigma’s neck, as he instinctively circled your waist with his own. “Nikolai only makes me laugh with his jokes.” You leaned up for a kiss, and Sigma shyly closed the distance between the two of you, his hands holding you tight, and lips softly taking in yours.

He soon desperately leaned in for more, but you pulled away, melting at his puppy eyes. “But you, make me red with just one look, breathless with your presence, and senseless with your touch. No one else can do that.” You pulled him in for a kiss again, whispering. “It’s only you.”

Your sweet words were enough for Sigma. He was a fool for ever thinking you’d leave him for anyone, let alone Nikolai. Although the two of you were in public, he took you in deeper, not able to get enough of you with just kisses, his tongue meeting yours, hands grabbing your hair and hips, as if he’d never let you go again.

“Seriously, get a room.” An annoyed voice spoke from behind. Sigma opened his eyes, and glared daggers at Nikolai, only earning a chuckle out of him as he left. It looked like he’d have to find a new couple to torment.

—x—

And could that new couple be fyodor and…. Part 2 anyone?

[sukunas-play-thing]

Birthday Kisses and Cake

Sabo x Oc

my birthday is today, and im feeling a little at my lowest, so this is mostly self comfort and self indulgent. Feel free to read if you like regardless. slight dark themes, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, it's OC based, but you can read it as reader if you want Thank you.

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this also includes a little bit of Gravity Falls sprinkled in there, mostly bc I'm a sucker for multiverse work.

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Birthday Kisses and Cake (Sabo x Selim)

she woke in a good enough mood, she had well rested rest with Sabo next to her. She knows she did, she didn't fall asleep upset.

The night before, was spent watching her best friend play the newest game release, Sun Wukang, before she had taken a break to check on her lover, Lindberg. Leaving Sabo and Selim alone to chat about anything and everything, Sabo had found Selim's criminal record she had gained during a summer vacation one year with distant family, and Sabo spent most of the time reading them off, laughing, and asking her what half of them meant, or what on earth prompted half her arrests. She'd laugh, explain things.

"Sweetheart, you've gotten 32 counts of murder!?." Sabo gasped looking at the paper in his hands, he lays on his back on the bed, Selim, tucked under his arm with his arm wrapped around her waist to pull her closer. She groans as she hides her face in his chest. "I told that officer Durley, they were zombies! No one believes me!." She would say.

Sabo couldn't help but laugh at this, rolling his eyes. He never realized the women was such a criminal, nonetheless. "Okay..um..what's "pug trafficking" ?." He asks her as his eyebrow raises. Selim was quick to respond with her ppunter finger up. "That. Was all Grunkle Stan! I had nothing to do with that!." She says, oh so matter of factly. Sabo let out a hearty laugh.

He liked her crazy shenanigans. It reminded him of simpler times, when he was younger, and spent his childhood time with Luffy and Ace, she reminded him a little of the two. Her hot headed and aggressiveness similar to Ace, to her bright and happy smile like Luffy's. Sabo felt warm, whole, contented in this very moment. He threw the papers on the ottoman by her bed, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest, hugging her so tight she'd groan in protest. But he ignored it. He placed sweet kisses to her head, before he'd mumble, "You know what tomorrow is?." He asked her, She hummed in response before she began naming off possible scenarios, holidays etc.

"Umm…. memorial day?." Sabo shakes his head, she pouts. "It's not your birthday… That was in March…" She mumbles to herself, Sabo chuckles. "It's not our anniversary… is it!?." She's quick to panic at the notion that she had forgotten, Sabo was quick to comfort her. "No darling, think harder." He simply says, as he softly pokes her nose. She scrunches her face in mock annoyance, before thinking to herself again.

"Is it Luffy's birthday???." She asks. Wrong, she's so cute when she's clueless, or forgets things, especially like days like her birthday.

He shakes his head and sighs, playfully rousing her hair. She slaps him. "Get some sleep darling…We have a long day tomorrow." Is all he says, she goes to say something but Sabo's soft smile, and his finger to his lips in a gesture of silence, stops her. she pouts again, nuzzling to his side, and finally falling asleep.

She slept good, she did, she had a good night.

So why does she feel this way? This feeling of inadequacy?

Low, sad and broken?. She turns to her side, seeing Sabo had already gotten up for the day.

She sighs and plops herself down on the bed again she feels heavy like weight sitting on her chest. Refusing to let her move. She groans at this and forces herself off the bed, rolling to the side. She reaches for a cigarette. She's out. She sighs before getting up to find herself some caffeine. Only to open the fridge and see she has no more monster. She slams the fridge shut. She walks back to her room to get dressed, She'll just walk to the store real quick. No biggy!

She gets to the store, grabs three cold cans, and then heads to the counter to get some smokes for herself and her friend. "I need to see some ID." The clerk asks, rather rudely, in Selim's opinion, but she ignores it and realizes quickly. She didn't grab her ID. She groans and tells the clerk to just scan the drinks, please. Selim walks back home, the sky is cloudy, bleak, and a little bit of a sprinkle of rain begins. She whimpers. She makes it back to the house, grabs her ID, and storms back to the store. gets them finally, and walks back home. By now, she's sweaty and a little cold from the soft patters of rain hitting her seething body. When she gets back home. She goes straight to her room, and anger boils down to a deep depression. 'Ah, so it's gonna be like that.' She'd think to herself as she sits down, she's been wanting to get back into writing again, Similar to Sabo, he inspired her to want to write a book about her life, the people that's impacted her. But words aren't wording. And she groans annoyed yet again and walks away from her project.

She sighs, lighting the lighter that won't work so she throws the lighter and sits there in silence for a moment. She takes deep, even breaths to control her rising anger and frustration. Her den den mushy rings, and she leans over to grab the receiver. 'Cuhlick.' The sound emanates.

"Hey Sissy!!!." It's her twin brother, Elliott. "Hey Bubba." She says softly, feeling a little calmer now. "Happy Birthday." He says, and it finally hits her, 'Ah, that's what Sabo's behavior was about last night.' She muses to herself. She shakes her head in deep thought. Her silence muses her brother, as he chuckles on the other end.

"You forgot, didn't you?." He says, a slight tease to his tone. They talk a moment. Luffys voice is on the other end, demanding he speak to her. "HEY MILLIE HAPPY BIRTHDAY." Luffy hollers. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DUDE BROOOO. I hope you have a SUUUUUUPER BIRTHDAY." That was Franky. She can see in her head the commotion Elliott must be surrounded in. Everyone crowding him and yelling in his ear. All the strawhats wishing her a happy birthday, wishing they were there today. Luffy asks to tell her he said hello to Sabo when she sees him again. Selim nods. When things die down. It's when Elliotts tone changes to a somber one. "Hey, um, by the way. I found a voice recording from our late friend and crew mate, it's for you. He sent it Before he died and im just now finding it.." Elliott speaks. Before sending selim the voice recording. She opens it up, says thank you to her brother, and hangs up. She curls into herself as the voice recording plays.

Voice recording:

"Hey, kiddo, it's me. Ches, Listen, I heard you've been having a bad day today. And I just wanted to say that I am proud of you. I know sometimes life can be hard, it can be really hard. But just know this, you're stronger than you give yourself credit for. And to always be kinder to yourself. You have an amazing brother who'd do anything for you. A bestie whose your ride or die. And your brothers crew and me. Who'd give you the whole world. Always think of the good things life has given to you. Always remember how far you've come, regardless of how hard it was to be on this earth you still shined bright. Still got up in the mornings to tackle the day. And still has a heart full of love. So. Please, go take a hot shower, put on your favorite clothes, make your room dark, put on your favorite show or movie. And remember, that you are number one. Thank you for being in our lives. See ya later, kiddo! "

Selim didn't realize that she had been crying. Hot tears fell from her face to her knees. She missed him so much. And every day, she's grateful to being on this earth because of him. Hearing his voice was weird, considering he'd been dead for two years. He fought his battle and lost, and here he was, still encouraging her to keep going herself. It was the hardest bit of reality she's ever faced. She broke down. Sobbing uncontrollably when her bedroom door opened. Sabo had returned from running errands with Lindbergh and selims best friend. Seeing her in this state caused Sabo to drop everything and rush to her side. Checking her to see if she was hurt physically. Only to see she wasn't.

This pain was emotional. So he did what he knows best. He wrapped her in his arms and held her so tightly. In his signature, bone crushing hugs. He let her cry. Let her cry all of what she felt out. Closing his eyes and choking back his own sobs. He hated seeing her this way. Seeing her cry made him cry. Even though he wanted to be strong for her above all else. But she's taught him to be vulnerable when it was just him and her. And so he did. When she calmed down. He asked what was wrong. To which she told him she received the voicemail she had never gotten until now. Sabo knew of their old crew mate. They talked about him often. How kind he was, how selfless he was. And how it tore their crew up when he passed. He understood loss all too well. He fixes her hair. Wipes her tears. He holds her hands in his gloved ones.

"Darling... I want you.. to have the best birthday ever, let's get you cleaned up. Me, you. Lindbergh and your friend are all going out for your birthday. I, want you to know. We're happy you're here. Happy birthday sweetheart. The most very special lady I've ever met."

She swooned at how sweet and thoughtful Sabo can be. She shakes her head, thinking she couldn't be presentable. But Sabo disagrees. He helps her up, indirectly giving her the strength she needed to move again. His strong arms hold her upright, his strong legs, helped her walk, his strong hands wiped her tears, and his sturdy chest grounds her. He grounds her.

He helps her get cleaned up. He helps her get dried off, She fixes her hair. And dots her lips with a soft color tint. She picks out her outfit and sprays her favorite perfume. Her friend and Lindbergh are waiting in the living room when Sabo and Selim emerge together. She wears soft colors and a beautiful shawl Sabo bought for her birthday today. A dark blue laced color that matched her dress wonderfully. The four set out for the day to have lunch and then to walk along a beach shore. They call the strawhats and her brother back, and they all sing happy birthday to her as she hides her face bashfully. The sun begins to set. And they go out to dance. The lights and music soothe her weary soul. Sabo looks absolutely handsome in his blue black suit. He kisses her full of love and adoration as the song ends. And when they walk back to the house. They are greeted with the entire revolutionary army members. All with their own, specially wrapped presents, just for her. Ivankov made a beautiful pink and purple cake. With 27 birthday candles on it, with the words; "Happy Birthday, Millie!"

Gracing the decorated treat. They all sang happy birthday. Selims a giggling mess as Sabo sways side to side with his arm wrapped around her. His voice, a soothing balm, calming her tumultuous waves of pain and anxiety, and washing it all away with just a simple look. His charming smile, makes her heart flutter. She wraps her arms around him as he places many kisses on her face as the song concludes. Everyone's clapping and cheering. And when it was time to blow out her candles. She thinks for a moment.

There's nothing to wish for. She has her friends, all here. Her brother is alive and well and with the strawhats. Luffys is happy, her friend is happy. And Sabo, sweet, caring, funny, darling Sabo. Is right here with her. Her whole world was crashing down when she met him. And he's slowly building her pieces back together again. Even if he doesn't realize it. She smiles and kisses his chest. And blows out her candles. Everyone cheers and claps again. Before music begins to play.

"Thank you, everyone."

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

I'm sorry this was sad. I don't know why I'm feeling sad hut here we are. Thank you so much for reading. Have a lovely day/night mootisies.

[keegansgurl]

Summary: The reader gets captured by Graves during his siege of Las Almas. And the commander has certain ideals about what's in store for her.

Warnings!! Gun violence, wounds, implied sexual content, Kidnapping, being held captive, 18+ themes

Thunder cracks in the distance as you step out of the hummer with Soap, Ghost, Alejandro, and Rudy. It's dusk, and the air is starting to get heavy with moisture as the thunderstorm in the mountains grows near.

"Is that Graves' guys posted up at the gate?" You nudge Ghost when you spot the armed guards standing at the gate leading into the base.

Alejandro and Rudy share a look before Alejandro steps forward toward the gate. You hang back with Soap and Ghost while the Colonel searches for answers as to why a bunch of hired guns are guarding his base.

"What's Graves doing?" You ask Ghost as you watch Alejandro get up in his face.

"I don't know." Ghost replies in a gruff and cautious tone. "But I've got a bad feeling." He adds.

You nod in agreement, your dominant hand hovering over the pistol holstered at your thigh. Alejandro and Graves continue to but heads until all hell breaks loose. Alejandro gets taken down swiftly by one of Graves' men. Shots begjn whizzing through the air and Ghost grabs your arm to pull you behind cover.

"It doesn't have to go down like this, Ghost!" Graves shouts from his spot in front of the base gate.

"We need to get out of here." You crouch down next to Ghost with urgency.

Ghost nods in agreement and begins coming up with an escape plan. Graves' men begin to fan out and come towards the group. You and Ghost make a break for it but one of Graves' men manages to clip you with a shot to the shoulder. A searing hot pain shoots up through your shoulder and you crumble into the dirt.

Ghost stops and turns around to pull you up, but you wave him off with the hand that isn't clutching at your shoulder.

"No! Ghost, go! Get out of here!" You shout at your commander, the sound of Graves's men closing in growing louder in your ears by the second.

Ghost nods in understanding and takes off before your enemies descend upon you. One of them trains his gun on you while the other one grabs you by the injured shoulder and hauls you up to your feet.

"Ah!" You yelp in pain from the contact to your bullet wound.

Graves' men drag you back toward the gate and right up to their commander. Graves cracks a smug grin as you are dumped into the dirt at his feet.

"Well well well, if it isn't the infamous Spectre of the 141." Graves leans down and grabs your chin harshly in his hand.

You glare up at him as Graves holds your chin in his calloused hand. You grit your teeth as he smiles down at you with a sinister look in his eye.

"Boy who'd of thought that such a pretty thing like you could have all that rage and violence locked up inside." Graves chuckles at you. "You know? I'm glad it was you that my boys managed to catch first. Means that I get to have a little fun before work." He grins and signals for his men to take you away.

"You won't get away with this, Graves!" You kick and shout as you're dragged away and into one of the buildings on base.

You get tossed into a small barren room harshly. Your knees scrape against the floor, head hitting the corner of the doorframe as you get tossed down to the floor. The door slams shut and you hear a click followed by the sound of heavy boots walking away from the door.

You suck in a breath and manuever yourself into a sitting posistion on the cold floor. Graves' boys secured your hands behind your back with zipties after they got you inside the builging, so your movement is severly limited.

"Fuck." You groan to yourself as you take a few deep breaths to calm yourself down.

You glance at your shoulder where you got shot. Blood has completely soaked through your shirt and beginning to dry into the fabric. The tendons in your shoulders burn with every little movement, making you wince in pain.

You scoot yourself over to the far corner of the room and lean against it. Graves's men pulled the zipties around your wrists pretty damn tight. But if you can somehow dislocate your thumb on one of your hand. Then you think that you can manage to slip your restraints.

You keep your back almost against the far corner of the room as you work to dislocate your thumb. While you work you keep your eyes fixed on the door on the other side of the room. You can hear footsteps and muffled voices on the other side of the door. Graves' men no doubt. But if you can pull this off then you'll be ready for them next time they come through that door.

"Come on. Come on!" You mumble to yourself as you work. "Fuck! Yes, that should do it." You wince quietly when your thumb grinds against bone and eventually clicks out of place.

Your hand aches now as well as your shoulder. But now there is just enough leverage for you to dig your hand free from your restraints. The zipties dig into your skin, scraping away at the first layer of your dermis as you go. But you've got to get free.

After some effort, your left hand finally manages to slip free. You breath a sigh of releif as you move your arms back into their normal posistion. Your wrists are rubbed raw and bleeding at this point. But you're free.

"Okay. Stay calm, YN." You calm yourself down now that you're free.

You tear a strip off the bottom of your shirt and wrap it around your shoulder into a makeshift sling. The sling takes some of the pressure off your shoulder and you allow yourself a little bit of time to rest and recover. You think about Soap and Ghost while you rest. Surely the two of them managed to get away and are coming up with a plan to come rescue you and Alejandro right now.

The heavy sound of footsteps approaching the door switches you out of relaxing mode. You quickly pull your arm out of the sling and wrench your hands behind your back again. If your captor doesnt know that you've free'd yourself. Then you've got the element of surprise.

The door creaks open and Graves steps into the room. He closes the door behind him and grin at you. "Well, aren't you a sigh for sore eyes, sweetheart? All hunched up in the corner, cowering in fear like a meek little bunny." He chuckles to himself and approaches you.

You watch Graves come towards you. You could spring on him right now and take him down. But you know that it's better if you wait until he's closer and more off guard to strike.

"Fuck you!" You growl at Graves with fire in your eyes and venom in your tone.

Graves comes to a stop a few feet in front of you. He smiles at you before gesturing for you to get up.

"Come on! Let's see it." Graves prompts you. "I'm not stupid, sweetheart. I know that you've found a way out of those retraints by now." He insists.

You grit your teeth and begruginly move your arms back in front of you. It'll be no use in trying to attack him now.

"Atta girl." Graves muses and reaches behind him. He pulls his arm back out in front of him with a bottle of water in hand and offers it to you. "Go on. Take it."

You scoff and turn your nose up at the offer. "I don't want shit from you, traitor." You spit at him.

"Suit yourself, sweetheart." Graves shrugs and pops the cap off of the bottle.

You watch Graves place the bottle to his lips and take a large swig of water from it. You become acutely aware of just how dry your mouth and throat are as you watch little droplets of precious water drio out of Graves' mouth and dribble down his chin.

"Ah!" Graves smirks and screws the cap back onto the now half-empty bottle. "Refreshing." He taunts you.

"If you're going to kill me, can you get it over with already?" You stare up at Graves with disdain written plainly on your face.

Graves laughs and crouches down to your level. "Kill you?" He scoffs. "Now why would I go and do something as stupid as that?" He asks you. "Shepard gave me a look at your file, you know?"

"General Shepard?" Your head snaps up to meet his gaze.

"Mhm." Graves grins. "You are quite the soldier. Long list of skills that could be useful for a man in my business." He adds. "And all wrapped up in an enticing package too."

You reel back as Graves reaches a hand out to caress your face. You breifly think about biting down on his hand as hard as you can. But you know that he'd just overpower you if you did.

"Come on, sargent." Graves coos at you. "Think about all the trouble we could get into if you teamed up with me, huh?" He paints a picture for you. "Think about all the fun we could have. All the money that we could make." Graves drones on.

"I'd rather die than ever work for a scumbag mercanary like you." You growl and turn your head away from him.

Graves doesn't seem to falter any at your harsh words. He steps forward again, backing you further into the corner. Both of you are standing up now. But Graves is at least half a foot taller than you are. He watches you with intense eyes as you try your best to turn away from him.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, YN." Graves scoffs. "Don't think that I haven't noticed the way you've been looking at me these past few days." He reaches forward and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. "Hmm? All those stolen glances at breifings? Or that cute little smile being directed at me when your meathead 141 buddies aren't looking?" He teases you.

You turn your head in shame, knowing that everything Graves is saying is true. Graves chuckles and grabs your shoulder where you got shot. You gasp in pain and turn to look at Graves again.

"Let me go!" You huff a breath out at Graves and try to pull away from him.

Graves doesn't budge, and instead steps closer to you. His body traps you between himself and the wall and you can smell the mint on his breath as well as the cologne he wears wafting off of him.

"Come on sweetheart, just give in." Graves leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers in a husky tone to you.

Your breath hitches in your throat and you freeze in place. It's like your brain is short circuiting right now. All those dirty thoughts that popped into your head 24 hours ago when Graves first introduced himself come flooding back all at once. All those thoughts about how handsome Graves looks in his tactical gear. About how that damned Southern American accent ignited something inside of you when he introduced himself to the group.

Everything.

You could cut the tension in the room with a simple wave of the hand.

That tension is broken when a rapid knock sounds at the door. Graves step away from you with an annoyed grimace at being interupted. He backs up towards the door and offers you a wink and charming grin. "This conversation aint over sweetheart. I'll be right back." Graves assurs you before slipping out of the room.

Your heart thumps against your chest like it's due to burst at any moment. Your gaze stays transfixed on the door and you can hear Graves scolding whichever of his lackies dared interupt him just now.

Silence falls over the room again and you slide down the wall and back down to the floor.

"Oh fuck." You murmur to yourself, head in your hands as you try and regain your composure.

Somewhere outside, sirens start to blare throughout the compound as Ghost, Soap, and Rudy rally to take the base back. The trio locate where you and Alejandro are being held and begin their retrieval plan.

You are still sitting in the corner when the door swings open with force. You look up from your lap expecting to see Graves saunter in again but find Soap instead.

"YN!" Soap crosses the room in barely two strides.

"Soap!" You let out a shakey reply.

Soap leans down in front of you and helps you to your feet. He sets a hand on your shoulder and allows you a few seconds to calm yourself down.

"Are you alright? Did Graves do something to you?" Soap asks you.

"I'm okay, MacTavish." You shake your head and compose yourself. "Have you guys found Alejandro?" You ask him.

Soap nods, trusting that you wouldn't lie to him since the two of you have always been close. "Ghost and Rudy are getting him right now. Are you ready to go?" He asks, offering you a gun from the back of his vest.

"I'm good." You take the gun with a nod and prepare yourself for the fight to come.

A part of you wonders where Graves is at right now. You wonder if he's thinking about you at all. As delusional as that sounds.

Because it does sound delusional, right?

He's the enemy now.

Right?

Right.

[deathcapyandex]

Lazy Day Off

[lazy Day off]

Inspired by this post(link)

Featuring Laios being an adorable idiot

The party was taking a break from dungeon adventures, resting up for a day on the surface before returning to try and make more progress down the floors.

Sparrow convinced their boyfriend Laios to sleep in, which lead to the two being lazy for the day cuddling each other.

"we should probably get something to eat, it's not good if we lay around all day" the blonde mumbled, nose pressed against the side of their head practically hiding his face in their auburn hair.

"later, I'm cozy" sparrow grumbled, nuzzling their face into the crook of his neck with a sigh.

Laios chuckled with a soft smile, holding them closer in his arms with a light squeeze before toning his voice down to a whisper.

"hey.."

"hm?"

"hey, you know who I love more than anything in the whole world?" His smile widened

Sparrow peered up at him in amusement "gee, is it me?"

Laios' eyes went wide with his bright smile of amazement as he raised his voice again.

"HOW'D YOU KNOW?"

Sparrow laughed at his reaction but the two were quickly interrupted by a call from a certain elf outside their door.

"come on lovebirds get up already! Foods getting cold! Falin and I are going shopping!"

Laios had a look of embarrassment as he sat up, letting go of his partner. "Guess we should - what's that look for?" He asked, noticing the mix of admiration and amusement in their smile.

"you're so cute you big dork" they chuckled

"hey- I am not-" laios stumbled a bit with his argument, a slight blush spreading over his face as his embarrassment furthered. "Well you're cuter!"

Sparrow laughed and sat up, wrapping their arms over his shoulders and leaning their head against his

He smiled and placed a hand on their arm, leaning into them a bit. "Let's go eat, row"

"yeah yeah"

[keuwibloom]

It wasn’t easy finding a quiet spot in Kamikou, especially during lunch period.

You didn’t expect your usual place in the garden to be occupied, but there were two upperclassmen (and what looked like… A robot?) already there by the time you arrived. You immediately turned around and left before they could see you, their loud voices echoing from behind as you went searching for another spot.

Eventually, you managed to find a little area behind one of the buildings to settle in. There weren't any chairs or tables, but you sat on the ground anyway and leaned against the wall. You took a deep breath and sighed. Finding this went on longer than you thought it would – there were only about 15 minutes left before the next class started.

‘Just enough time to figure out this chorus.’ You think, opening the notebook you carried to where you had slipped in a pencil as a page marker. Tapping the pencil on the paper, you hum a few simple melodies out loud, occasionally scribbling notes on the pages. With any luck, you can make something coherent enough for your friend to use in the next song.

You’re so focused with what you're doing that you didn’t notice the window above your head sliding open, a surprised sound leaving you as you suddenly heard someone call out.

“Excuse me, is someone there?” You turned and looked up to see another student glancing around before finally noticing you. His two-toned hair immediately caught your attention, one side much lighter than the other. He looked kind of familiar – someone from your year maybe?

You cleared your throat as he continued to stare at you expectantly. “Um, hi?” You began, not really knowing what to say in this situation. His face remained passively blank, a small tilt of his head to the side the only thing showing his confusion. Honestly, you felt just about the same the longer you two stared at each other in awkward silence.

Finally, he seemed to have something else to say. “Were you the one humming just now?”

You blinked. That… Wasn’t really what you were expecting him to mention first. Was your humming really that loud? You hesitated for a moment before deciding to answer honestly.

“Yeah, that was me.” It’s only when you glanced into the room behind him that you realized how he might have heard you. Right, you forgot that the library was in this building. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was being too loud.”

“It’s alright, you weren’t.” He replied, his tone even and his expression unchanging. He paused for a few seconds before continuing, “I don’t usually see anyone hanging around back here.” You saw his eyes look around the area, empty aside from a few unkempt bushes and trees.

You shrugged, turning fully and adjusting your legs into a more comfortable sitting position. “I like how peaceful it is. It's difficult to find a nice, quiet place like this when everyone's out of class.” You’d argue that you did have another nice, quiet place in mind, but it wasn’t exactly peaceful there at the moment.

He nodded, seemingly understanding your point. “Well, if you need somewhere like that again, the library is usually quiet at this time.” He made a small gesture with his hand towards the room behind him. Your mouth quirks up in a half-smile. “Isn’t the library supposed to always be quiet anyways?” You can’t help but ask.

“Ah. You’re not wrong.” He seemed to realize, a slight furrow forming on his brow. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” You quickly added, smiling more genuinely to show your gratitude. He gave a small smile back.

Before either of you could say anything else, you heard the school bell ring in the distance. He looked in the direction of the sound as you stood up and dusted off your clothes, tucking your notebook under your arm.

“Looks like lunch is over. Well, I’m heading off.” He turned back towards you as you spoke, nodding. “Likewise. It was nice meeting you..?” He trailed off, and you realized that neither of you had introduced yourselves yet.

You gave him another amused half-smile and told him your name.

“Aoyagi Toya.” He replied. Toya raised his arm for a little wave as he began sliding the window shut. “Until next time.” He said before fully closing it, the small smile from earlier visible on his face even as he turned away.

You headed back as well. It’s not until halfway through class that you remembered you never did finish writing that chorus. ‘Whoops. Looks like the song will have to wait.’

You softly tapped your pen on the desk, lost in thought. It’s not often you get distracted enough to not finish a task like that. You try not to beat yourself up too hard over it though.

Besides, it’s not like you’ll make a habit of running into Toya like that again.

First full fic I've written in years, and it's another x reader--

Anyways, I hope you guys like this! I know it's a bit different from what I usually post, but I've been working on my writing a lot and I'm hoping to post more of it every now and then!

Don't worry though, more art (project sekai or otherwise) hopefully coming soon

[ghost-in-the-hall]

The Confessional (Falk Maria Schlegel x Fem! Reader SMUT)

Hello! This was not part of my plan at all! So... Surprise! I was tagged in this wonderful comic by a few of you (OP your art is amazing, I'm still giggling and kicking my feet over it, if you would like me to remove the tag for your comic please let me know ❤️). If I wasn't insane about Falk before, I am now. I haven't written smut in a while, I'm a little rusty, so, please bare with me. If you would like to be added to my tag list please let me know, enjoy!

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, MDNI, 18+ CONTENT, age gap (reader is in her mid 20's, Falk is in his late 40's), misuse of religious ceremonies and general sacreligious theming, mutual pining, Falk being kind of a pervert, solo masturbation, Falk just really likes reader in dresses, slight power imbalance dynamic, priest kink, oral (m and f receiving), hand job, fingering, praise kink, heavy use of 'good girl', soft dom! Falk, reader refers to Falk as 'Father' and 'sir' a few times throughout, submissive reader, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks), slight breeding kink maybe?, creampie, lots of aftercare, general fluff as to be expected from me cause I am the softest of bitches

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link! ~ Tip Jar!

“Good afternoon, Father.” You groan slightly as your friend jabs her elbow harshly into your ribs. Your eyes snapping up as Father Falk steps up to the side of your table. He greets each of the siblings you are sitting with by name, his kind smile widening slightly as his attention turns to you. He holds your gaze momentarily before quickly snapping himself from his thoughts. He stood and talked with your group for a little while, asking how everyone's studies were going and cracking a few jokes. Every so often, he would single you out specifically, softly stating your name in a way that made your heart pound in your chest.

“It was wonderful seeing all of you. Don't be afraid to stop by and chat sometime if you'd like.” He smiles as he gets ready to head off. Your cheeks grow warm as you catch him looking you over one last time before leaving.

“He so has a thing for you.” One of them pipes up immediately after he's out of earshot.

“Will you shut up? He does not.” You respond immediately with a groan.

“I'm sorry, did we not all just see him check you out?” There was a collective murmur of agreement amongst your group. “You've had a crush on Falk for forever, and he clearly likes you. You should tell him!”

“I'll think about it, okay?” You snap back just to get them to drop it. “I have to go; I’m on chapel duty tonight.”

“Well, that gives you plenty of time to think then, doesn’t it?” She jokes. You roll your eyes, saying your goodbyes before heading off to complete your nightly chores.

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕

Falk sighs as he enters his office, falling back against the door as he shuts it behind him. The sight of your flustered expression still burning in the forefront of his mind brought a smile to his face. He shook his head, unwilling to entertain the thought at the moment. There was still work to be done; he couldn't allow himself to get distracted. He removes his formal vestments, washing off his ceremonial paints before sitting at his desk. He leans back in his chair, staring out the open window as his mind wanders. Falk has had his eye on you for a while, always trying to keep a respectful distance. But, to put things simply, he found you too captivating to resist for long. He noticed all of your coy smiles and bashful glances, your lips always so pretty and perfectly glossed. Part of him wondered how that gloss would look as it smeared over– Falk shook his head, clearing his throat as he shut down the thought. Part of him felt guilty having such sinful thoughts about you. You were a kind, respectable young woman. Yet, he always ends up back at the same place, his hips stuttering as he ruts into his palm, your name shamelessly falling from his lips, sweat coating his brow as he imagines how his fingers would sink into your pillowy hips. He curses as he finishes, his head tipping back as he struggles to catch his breath. He cleaned himself up, taking one last look at the paperwork on his desk and deciding it wasn't worth the trouble; he wouldn't be able to focus on it right now if he tried. He headed toward the chapel; he had to set up for mass in the morning anyway. The physical movement would be a nice break from the monotony of signing forms and a welcome distraction from his racing thoughts.

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕

You sat on your knees inside the confessional, tracing small circles over old leather seats with a polishing cloth. You always dedicated the utmost care to the chapel whenever it was your daily task. You would be here a lot later than most of the other Siblings, taking time to care for the woodwork and the other less prominent cleaning areas that still needed some love. You heard the door open, figuring someone was coming in for late afternoon prayer. “Schwester, you’re here late.” You froze at the sound of Father Falk’s voice behind you.

“I could say the same for you, Father.” You glance at him over your shoulder, his tall frame filling the door frame of the confessional. He peers at your work curiously, making you giggle. Falk’s heart raced at the melodic sound. “No one ever remembers to take care of the leather.” He holds out his hand for you to take. Your fingers tremble as they ghost over his, letting him help you up from kneeling on the floor. He smiles as he studies your smaller form, trailing a knuckle along your jaw.

“Always so dedicated.” He coos. “This is why you’re my favorite.” He chuckles at your flustered expression. You take his arm, letting him guide you through the empty chapel. “I need to choose some music for mass in the morning. Would you like to help me decide?”

“Of course.” You smile softly at him, your skin glowing under the kaleidoscope of colors flowing through the stained glass windows. The dark wooden walls made the room feel eerie, the only source of light besides the sun and the sporadic groups of candles still lit from this morning. The altar itself becomes a tomb of darkness, the large brass pipes of the organ shining like teeth from some glorious eldritch monster before you. Falk’s hand slips into yours, noticing your apprehensive expression.

“You look nervous, little maus.” He chuckles.

“The chapel just feels a little different at night, Father, that’s all.” You respond.

“I can assure you,” he turns to face you, bringing your knuckles to his lips, “the only thing that bites in here, Schwester, is me.” He chuckles. You swallow thickly, knowing the statement was supposed to be a joke, but the thought was enough to have heat pooling between your legs. He separates himself from you to prepare his music, leaving your attention to wander around the altar. You couldn’t help but stop and admire the carvings that adorned the mensa. “You can touch it, you know,” he chuckles, watching you study the wood closely with your hands neatly tucked behind your back, “I promise you’re not going to burst into flames or anything.” You shoot him a teasing smile before allowing your fingers to trace over the intricate work.

“It’s gorgeous; I’ve never gotten to look at the carvings up close.” You remark in awe.

“I’m surprised you haven’t,” he slowly strides closer to you, “Father Charles loves to romanticize the old rituals they used to perform.”

“I wonder what it would be like to sit up there.” You state blankly, not expecting a response.

“Would you like to see for yourself?” You nod slowly, waiting to see just what he would do. He stands before you, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. Two warm hands find their way to your waist, his palm curving perfectly to the contours of your hip. You tensed under his touch, your heart pounding in your chest. You're lifted from the floor and set on the edge of the mensa in one swift movement. The wood was cool under your fingertips; Falk couldn't help but study how your plush thighs settled against the dark, nearly black surface. You looked out over the endless rows of pews, imagining what they must look like full of spectators.

“So this is what they saw in their final moments, huh?”

“Final moments?” Falk repeats back under his breath. He chuckles, his hand trailing across your cheek as he brushes some stray hair from your face. “What kind of rituals do you think these were?” He asks softly, a playful smile on his lips.

“Sacrifices?” You respond slowly, shooting him a confused glance. He shakes his head.

“No, Mäuschen, these ritually focused more on…” he trails off, his eyes raking over your much smaller frame in a way that made heat pool in your core. “Pleasure.” He finishes finally. He can't help but smirk as he notices the way you squeeze your thighs together in response to his words. He stands in front of you, placing a hand on either side of your hips, caging you in his arms. You're forced to look up to meet his eyes, warm golden brown irises that almost glow under the low candlelight. “A Sibling would be brought in here for an evening of indulgence, expected to confess their deepest desires so they could be cared for properly. But, of course, that was only experienced if one found themselves to be a favorite of a particular High Clergy member.” His words from earlier ringing in your ears, ‘This is why you're my favorite.’ You swallow thickly, unable to break yourself away from his gaze.

“Why, um,” your voice shook slightly as you spoke, “why did they stop doing these rituals?” Your heart pounded, your skin feeling hot as you desperately tried to ignore the arousal that burned in your core.

“They haven't.” He responds bluntly with a sharp smile. “If I were better prepared, I would offer to demonstrate.” Your grip tightened on the table at his statement; Falk chuckled softly as he decided he'd had enough fun flustering you for the evening. “Come here Mäuschen, we still need to choose that music.” He helps you down from the mensa, his hands lingering on your waist for a little longer than they should have been before you both finish your chores in the chapel for the evening.

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You were finding it impossible to get to sleep. Your mind kept wandering back to your meeting with Falk earlier that night. How he could easily move you around as he wanted, how large and strong he was compared to you, you could still feel the way his hands brushed against your thighs as he easily caged you in at the mensa. You squeeze your thighs together, the throbbing between your legs quickly returning at the thought of him. You hadn't realized until tonight how massive his hands were, still feeling their warmth on your waist. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, thinking about how his hands would feel traveling across your bare skin. You slipped a hand under your shirt, squeezing your eyes shut and letting out a soft groan as you massage your breast, your other hand toying at the waist of your pants. This wasn't the first time you had thought about Falk like this, but who could blame you? From the moment you two had met, he had absolutely captivated you. You had never met someone so sophisticated and mature who treated you with such respect. He was a romantic, handsome, and, if the rumors are true, incredible in bed. You try to stifle a whine as you start to rub slow circles on your clit, your fingers already slick with your arousal. His name tumbled softly from your lips as you chased your rapidly approaching high. Your hips buck into your hand as you carefully slide two fingers inside of yourself. You tried to imagine how deep his long fingers would be able to reach, the thought alone enough to make your eyes roll back in your head. He would treat you so well; you just knew it. Your moans grew louder and more desperate the closer you got to your climax. Your back arches off the bed, his name falling repeatedly from your lips like a prayer as the tightly wound coil inside of you finally snaps. Maybe now you will finally be able to sleep.

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Falk stood frozen outside of your bedroom door. He came down here to apologize for how he had acted earlier, saying something like he had to you was out of line. He should know better. He was just about to knock on your door when he heard your voice moan his name. He stills, knowing he should leave but unable to move from the spot. He doesn't dare even breathe, listening closely to see if he could hear more of your sweet sounds. His mouth grows dry as he listens to your soft whines; he wonders what sounds he might be able to coax out of you. He would love to take his time with you, meticulously toying with every part of you he could get his hands on just to see how you would respond to his touch. His member pressed painfully against the confines of his pants, the throbbing only growing more intense as he listened to your soft sounds grow louder as you approached your climax. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, his whole body rigid as he listens to your gasps and cries; he can hear your bed frame creak in time with the thrusts from your fingers. He had to suppress a growl in his throat at the thought of how much better you would feel if it were him taking care of your needs. His heart leaps into his throat, all the air getting punched out of his lungs as he hears you cry out for him. Your fervent moans bordering on screams as you repeatedly call his name through your peak, a delighted sigh trailing off the end before you fell utterly silent. He hurriedly straightens himself up and heads away from your dorm, not wanting to risk anyone catching a glimpse of the situation. He hurries back to his room, his heart still hammering in his chest as your sweet voice rang in his ears. You were thinking of him through the heights of your pleasure; his face burned as the realization of what he had just done occurred.

Falk sat in bed, thumbing through a novel he had read dozens of times, just looking for a distraction. Getting to sleep proved impossible, his mind always managing to wander back to the sound of your sweet whines. He snaps the book shut, removing his reading glasses and placing them on his nightstand. He massages the bridge of his nose with a soft groan. He turns off his lamp, nestling himself into his pillows before staring at the plain white ceiling. His whole body buzzed with arousal; he lay rigid in bed as he resisted the urge to give in to his temptations. However, with the day he had with you, it was nearly impossible for him to resist. “You perverted old man.” He chuckles, chastising himself. “What would she say if she knew you were thinking about her like this?” He knew he should feel ashamed, but after hearing your needy cries for him, he was sure you wouldn't mind; you may even be flattered that the thought of you alone was enough to get him off. He rests a hand on his bare stomach, fidgeting with the waistband of his fleece pants. In moments like this, he thought of you more often than he would care to admit, but he simply couldn't help himself. The sweet smell of your perfume, the curves of your body, the flirtatious glimmer that always managed to find its way into your eyes, you could bring Falk to his knees without much effort at all. He hissed softly as he finally rubbed his hand over his clothed member, wishing desperately that it could be you taking care of him instead. He took his time, imagining how your body would feel in his hands and what sweet sounds he could coax out of you. His mind wandered back to the sight of you on your knees in front of him in the confessional, the way your pretty sundress rose up to show the plushness of your thighs, making his cock twitch. He slowly pushed his pants down his hips, his erection slapping against his stomach as it was finally freed from its confines. He gives himself a few tentative pumps, groaning at the welcomed friction. All he could think about was how pretty you would look riding him, how your heat would pull him in, how cute and pathetic it would be when your legs finally gave up, your thighs trembling from over-exertion, allowing him to flip you over and fuck you stupid into the mattress. He curses, growling your name as he finishes, his hot release coating his pale skin. The otherwise silent room was filled with the sounds of Falk’s heavy breathing as he came down from his high. Cleaning himself up and settling into bed again, he lay awake, wondering if you were still thinking about him.

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Sitting through Mass the following morning proved to be a nearly impossible task. You couldn’t look at Falk without the thought of him towering over you as you sat on the mensa flashing through your mind. You squeezed your thighs together, silently praying that Mass would end soon so you could find some sort of distraction. Your breath freezes in your lungs when your eyes meet his, “we ask that you please stay for monthly confession. Of course, a simple check-in will suffice as well.” He continues his closing remarks. You wiped your hands on your thighs, your palms suddenly growing clammy. You knew there was no need to confess that you had been having such indecent thoughts, but you could feel the admission resting on the tip of your tongue. Something about being in the confessional made it utterly impossible for you to keep any secrets. You dwelled in your seat for what felt like hours as you watched the rest of your fellow Siblings slip into one of the five confessionals. You had no idea who you would be met with on the other side of that door. By the time you approached the confessional, you were one of the last people left in the chapel. The wooden door creaked as you pulled its heavy circular handle. Slipping inside, it only took a moment before you were plunged into darkness, your eyes slowly adjusting to the booth's low light. Your knees land on the plush pad, your breathing shaky as you trace along the lattice pattern of the screen that separates you from whoever sits on the other side.

“Forgive me, Father,” you suck in a deep breath before continuing, “for I have sexualized an older man.” Your cheeks burn as the admission tumbles from your lips.

The figure on the other side of the screen straightens up, clearing his throat softly. You could feel his eyes on you despite not seeing his face. “Is that so?” Your blood turned to ice in your veins; it took everything you had to not bolt out of the confessional as you realized it was Falk on the other side of that screen. “May I ask who the object of your lustful thoughts may be, Schwester?” You could hear the smirk in his voice. Falk had realized who had stepped into his confessional the moment you began to speak. Your confession itself was enough to send a shiver up his spine; he began to wonder just how much you would be willing to admit to him.

“I have a feeling you already know the answer to that, Father Falk.” You respond boldly, making him chuckle. What a clever little Maus you were.

“Well, I’m truly flattered if that’s the case.” You found yourself smiling, fidgeting with your fingers as your heart began to race. “Although I wish I could have seen how cute you must have looked confessing that Mäuschen.” He grew silent for a moment, debating whether or not he should push his luck and ask what was really on his mind. “How often do you think about me, Schwester?”

“More frequently than I would care to admit, Father.” You lean in close to the screen, and Falk can feel your warm breath against the shell of his ear. “I’m ashamed to say I… I was even thinking about you last night.” The nervous tremor in your voice was just enough to drive Falk insane, a primal hunger growing deep inside of him as he listened to you describe the deepest fantasies about him. Your soft, melodic voice made him ache with need, wanting nothing more than to feel your bare skin under his fingertips, allowing you to give in to every single impure thought you had ever had about him. “I feel terrible; I hope there’s some way I can make it up to you.” You stifle a giggle as he clears his throat, adjusting himself in his seat. Falk’s hands were fisted in his vestments, your words leaving him unable to think straight. Your legs trembled, both due to growing tired from kneeling and from the arousal that was quickly pooling in your core. Falk’s stomach plummeted at the sound of you exiting the confessional. He still couldn’t say what he wanted to tell you even after all that. That thought was quickly swept away at the sight of you slipping through the door on his side of the booth. 

“Well, this is certainly a surprise.” He chuckles, reaching out to take your hand. He runs his thumb soothingly over your knuckles, studying you briefly before tugging you closer. His large hands travel over the curve of your waist and down the outside of your thighs. “What do you plan on doing now, my brave little Maus?”

“What’s my repentance, Father?” You ask with a seductive grin. He raises an eyebrow, a smirk slowly stretching across his features.

“On your knees, Schwester.” He orders gently. You do as he asks, your eyes never leaving his as you sink to the floor between his legs. “You want to repent, do you?” You nod, hazy eyes fluttering shut as he reaches to cup your cheek. You had done nothing wrong, and Falk could tell from your expression that you knew that. He traces his thumb along your bottom lip, your willingness to let him have complete control over the situation making the urge to claim you as his grows even more significant. He pushes his thumb past your lips, groaning as your tongue glides over the digit. “Such a pretty little thing you are, Maus.” He looks at you hungrily, his free hand working on removing his vestments. He pulls his thumb from your mouth with a pop, taking a moment to undress himself as much as necessary for the task. You hum contently as he rests a hand on the top of your head, your cheek resting on his muscular thigh as Falk takes a moment to just drink in the sight of you. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, hesitantly reaching out to run your hand over his member, which was only separated from your palm by the thin cloth of his boxers. Falk quickly covers his mouth with his hand, trying to stifle the hiss that threatened to escape him at your gentle touch. He didn’t want to come undone before you so easily, but that proved a much more difficult task than he anticipated. He cups your face in his hand, keeping your eyes locked with his as you familiarize yourself with the contours of his body. His erection was hot in your hand; you felt his fingers twitch against your jaw as you traced your finger along one of the thick veins that trailed up from the base of his cock. He curses under his breath, his hips bucking slightly under your hand. You tug at the waistband of his boxers, silently asking permission to remove the only barrier separating you from him. You swallow thickly, your eyes tracing over the tattoos that wound up his arms as he removes the last of his clothing. You slowly peel yourself out of your dress, Falk’s breath hitching at the sight of the lingerie set that perfectly hugged your curves underneath.

“I figured I should make things a little more even.” You remark with a seductive smirk. Falk sits up, reaching behind you to undo the clasps of your bra with ease.

“I definitely won’t complain.” He chuckles, guiding the thin straps from your shoulders, the lacy fabric falling to the floor. He allows himself a glance at your nearly naked form, groaning at the sight of your beautiful body on display for him. His finger trails along your jaw, his lips hanging just out of your reach. “Can I kiss you?” He asks softly.

You can’t help but giggle slightly, “I mean, you’ve practically seen me naked; I don’t think kissing could hurt.” He lets out a chuckle of his own in response.

“You have a point Maus,” he rakes over your features with a hungry expression, “I’m just glad I finally get the chance to taste you.” Falk’s lips crash into yours; you can't help but let out a delighted sigh. Your fingers trembled as your hands ghosted over his skin. He hums against your lips, covering your hand and pressing your palm to his chest. You could feel his heart pounding. He pulls back from you slightly, his lips brushing over yours as he speaks. “You don't have to be nervous, Maus; I'm all yours.” He whispers before pulling you back into another mind-numbing kiss. You smile as you feel his body tense under your touch, your hands slowly trailing down his torso until your fingers bump into his boxers. Your lips leave his, trailing across his jaw. He groans, his hands coming to rest on your waist. He squeezes your hips as you place a kiss on his neck. Your fingers dip into the waist of his boxers, easing them down his hips as your lips trail down his body. Falk couldn't take his eyes off you; you were so captivatingly beautiful that he didn't dare look away. He bites his fist as he tries to stifle a groan as you wrap your hand around the base of him. Anyone could still be in the chapel; anyone could step into the confessional at any time, but the risk of potentially getting caught only made you want each other more desperately. Your eyes never leave his as you wrap your lips around the tip of his member. He squeezes his eyes shut, biting hard into his bottom lip as his head drops back. “Good girl.” He praises you softly, cursing under his breath as you allow more of him to slide over your tongue. You squeezed your legs together, the quiet moans that you effortlessly pulled from him making it impossible for you to ignore the throbbing need that was quickly growing in your core. His skin was hot against your tongue; you wanted to savor every single sound you coaxed out of him, making sure to take things slowly. He cradled the back of your head carefully in his hand, wanting to touch you somehow. You noticed his breathing quicken, the groans tumbling from his lips coming much more frequently than when you had started. “Mäuschen,” he calls softly, “be careful, I’m not finished with you yet.” He chuckles, easing you off of him with a hiss. His head hits the back wall of the confessional with a soft thud as he sits, catching his breath. His thumb soothingly stroked your cheek, eyes finding yours with an expression nothing short of pure adoration.

“I’d like to take you back to my room if that’s alright.” His request hung heavy in the air for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest.

“You’re not worried about people seeing us?” You ask. It’s not like it was uncommon for Siblings to be seen slipping into High Clergy members' quarters; if anyone happened to see you, they probably wouldn’t care anyway. But, there was something about his invitation. Falk wasn’t inviting you back to his room for some meaningless one-night stand.

“Why would I be worried? Anyone who sees us is just going to know you’re mine.” He tilts your chin gently with his knuckle, offering you a sharp smile that sends a shiver down your spine. “Stand up, meine hertz.” You do as he says, allowing him to place his hands on your waist to pull you closer. Your breath hitches in your throat as he presses a kiss to your pulse. His fingers ghost over you, causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin as he memorizes the curves of your body. Electricity danced across your neck, each kiss making your mind grow cloudier. Your legs threaten to give out underneath you as he sinks his teeth into you. You let out a soft whine, your fingers tangling in his hair as he assaulted your neck. “Beautiful.” He traces around the dark purple mark with his finger.

“I'm hoping there's more where that came from.” You giggle in response. Falk smiles, his fingers massaging your hips as his lips find yours in the quiet intimacy.

“Coming from the woman worried about people seeing us together.” He teases with a chuckle.

“Oh, I was worried about that for your sake.” You can't help but smile as he steals a few chaste kisses, unable to deny himself such a simple pleasure now that he's gotten a taste of it. “But, if you're okay with people knowing about us–”

“Us?” He offers you a devious smirk. “You want there to be an us?” He asks curiously. Your face burned as you realized the confession you let slip out into the darkness.

“I-um,” you stutter, searching desperately for any response but coming up empty-handed.

“A pretty little thing like you interested in an old man like me,” he chuckles, grabbing your chin between his thumb and finger, “it almost sounds too good to be true, Mäuschen.”

“I definitely wouldn't consider you old, Father.” You respond with a soft laugh. Falk smiles, his hand warm against your cheek as he carefully caresses the side of your face. His eyes slowly trail over your features, memorizing how you looked at him; your pupils were blown with lust, yet your gaze held a softness, an admiration, that Falk couldn't miss. He guides your lips back to his, your body immediately melting into his embrace. He shivers as your fingers trail over his chest. He found your hesitancy adorable, enjoying that he knew he would have to control the situation, given your apparent nerves.

“Get dressed,” he mumbles against your lips, “I want to get you out of here. You buzzed with excitement as you righted your clothes, taking a deep breath to steady your pounding heart. You turn when you hear Falk softly call your name, stepping closer to him to allow his hands to slide over the curve of your waist. “Beautiful.” He states softly as his eyes hungrily rake over your body. His large hands wrap around the back of your thighs, steadying you as you lean down to kiss him. He feels goosebumps erupt across your skin as he slowly slides his hands upward, his calloused palms hot against your body as he slides over the curve of your ass. His fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, carefully guiding them down your legs. “You're not going to be needing these.” He chuckles, stuffing the delicate fabric into his pocket.

“You dirty old man.” You tease him with a smile, sliding your arms over his shoulders.

“Your dirty old man.” He corrects with a smirk and a smile, his hands returning to their task of distractingly running over your thighs. “How about we get out of here, Maus?” He asks in a seductive tone.

“Yes, Father.” You respond with a coy smile, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. Falk chuckles in response, enjoying seeing you relax into such a happy, flirty state. You giggle as Falk hugs you from behind, pulling you flush against him as he leans down to press his lips to your cheek.

“Little minx.” He whispers, reaching past you to open the confessional door. You let out a soft squeak as a gentle smack lands on your ass, prompting you forward and making Falk chuckle. You step into the empty chapel, your heart pounding in your ears loud enough to drown out the soft clacking of your shoes against the tile floor. Falk was by your side instantly, his hand slipping into yours as you were met with the same warm, comforting smile you were used to seeing from him. Being with him puts your nerves at ease; the way he speaks so kindly towards you, how he gently places a hand on the small of your back to guide you out of the way of oncoming people, allowing your mind to swim in all the possibilities of what might be in store for you upon your arrival at Falk’s quarters. His actions let you know he would take good care of you; that fact alone was enough to make your knees weak. His body parted from yours to unlock his door, quickly slipping the heavy wrought iron key into the lock before retaking your hand. He tugs you into the dark entryway—your heart races as you lose sight of him when the door shuts. You're eventually able to make out the faint shape of his silhouette; you freeze as he suddenly closes the distance between you. Your back presses flush against the cool wood, Falk’s lips crashing against yours. He wastes no time picking up where you had left off, his fingers ghosting over your thighs as he gathers the flowy fabric of your dress in his large hands. “Keep this on for now, Mäuschen.” He instructs gently. “You look cute.”

You grab him by his collar, pulling his lips back down to yours. Falk lifts you from the ground with ease, guiding your legs around his waist as he effortlessly carries you to his bedroom. He sets you gently on the floor. His hands move to unbutton his shirt; you stop him as a seductive expression spreads across your features. “Can I?” You ask softly, toying with the top button of his shirt. He nods quickly in response, his hands falling away as he watches you, slightly in shock that you would do something so bold. You slowly unfasten every button, Falk struggling not to grab you and toss you on the bed, the feeling of your knuckles so delicately brushing over his torso making his skin burn with need. You push his shirt off of his shoulder, your hands trailing down his strong arms as you push yourself into him. He curses as he feels your tongue glide over his neck; he tangles his fingers in your hair, groaning loudly at the feeling of your sharp teeth pressing harshly into his skin. 

Falk chuckles, grabbing your face in his hand. “I see someone else is a little possessive as well, hm?” He smiles, a devious glint in his eye. He winces dramatically as he prods at the mark you left behind. You lean closer to him, eyes never leaving his as you gently kiss the spot.

“You’ll have plenty of time to make me all you want later, I promise.” He smiles teasingly.

“And why can’t I do that now?” You challenge.

“Because,” he starts in a low tone, tilting your chin up with his finger as his lips hang just out of reach. “I’m much more concerned with caring for you, Maus.” He steps forward, guiding you backward until the back of your knees bump against the edge of his bed. “Lay down.” He orders firmly.

“Yes, sir.” The words tumble from your lips before you can thoroughly think them through. You freeze, cheeks burning as you wait to see how he would respond.

“Sir?” he asks in response. You fall back against the mattress, and Falk's larger form easily cages you underneath him. He studies you hungrily, running a knuckle down your pulse. “I could get used to that.” He chuckles, watching the way you squirm underneath him. “Is that alright with you, sweetheart?” He asks softly.

“Yes, sir.” You respond in a similar tone.

“Good girl.” He whispers with a sharp smile before he pulls your lips back to his.

Falk kissed you like a man starved, the sweet taste of your lips intoxicating as he sought to consume you: body, mind, and soul. He wanted you to think of no one else, only him. The way your hand fists into his hair as he sinks his teeth into your plush thighs, leads him to believe he's doing a pretty good job. Simply put, Falk believed you deserved to be worshiped, the ground you walked in sacred, just for being allowed to be under your foot. Giving you anything less than his very best would be a sin. You shiver at the feeling of his long fingers holding over your exposed skin, pushing your dress up to your hips to put you on full display for him. He could have spent hours marking you as his. Every dark purple mark he added to the growing collection just looked so pretty against your soft skin. You jolt as his thumb brushes over your clit, letting out a soft whine as you try to push yourself into his hand. Falk chuckles, cupping your sex with his hands as he brings his face up to yours. “Needy little thing, aren't you, Maus?” He smirks. You let out a soft whine, your nails digging into his broad shoulders as he begins to slowly circle your clit. “Is this what you wanted?” You nod, quiet moans tumbling from your lips. Falk slowly his motions; he can't help but chuckle as you adorably pout up at him. “Use your words.” You swallow thickly, his commanding tone making your heart pound.

“Yes, sir.” You respond quickly, and Falk smiles sharply. His lips crash into yours; you moan into his mouth as his fingers suddenly pick up their pace. He used the chance to slip his tongue inside your mouth; you let out a pleased hum, your body arching off the bed to push into his. He studies your features with a smug expression as he pulls back, your pupils blown and your lips puffy from the intensity of how he kissed you.

“You just lay back and look pretty; I'm going to take good care of you.” He states softly. He lowers himself to his knees at the edge of the bed, wrapping his arms around your hips to pull you closer to him. Your legs rested over his shoulders, his fingers intertwined with yours. You cursed, your thighs squeezing around his head as he wasted no time allowing himself to taste you. He groans as you roll your hips, dragging the sweet taste of your arousal across his tongue. His fingers pressed harshly into the curve of your waist with bruising force. Your fingers slide into his soft hair, your breath catching in your throat as Falk lets out a low growl. Your back arches off the bed, tugging harshly at his strands as he licks a long firm stripe over your clit. Your soft moans only spurred him on; it wasn’t long before he could feel your thighs beginning to shake as they squeezed tightly against his ears. He hums against you, causing you to let out a strangled whine. You groan as you feel him gently press his fingers through your entrance. He pauses as you tense, allowing your body a moment to adjust to the feeling of how deeply his long, slender fingers hit inside of you. He praises you softly, his free hand pressing into the plush of your stomach to hold you in place as he rapidly brought you to the edge of release.

You moaning his name was the sweetest thing he had ever heard. His heart raced as you reached out for him, pulling him closer as your moans gradually became louder and more desperate with every thrust of his fingers. He presses his thumb to your clit, making you cry up as your nails dragged down his back. He hisses softly at the feeling, no doubt in his mind that thin red scratches would be littering his pale skin. Falk’s voice sounded foggy and far off as something inside of you finally snapped, pleasure crashing over you as you screamed his name. Your cries were muffled by his lips being crushed against yours, swallowing all of your moans as he drew out the peak of your climax as long as possible. Your body still shook as he eased his fingers out of you, effortlessly taking hold of your waist and guiding you into his lap. Your arms slide over his shoulders, your arms fluttering shut as your lips easily find your way back to his. He holds you up with one arm, using the other to shove off his pants clumsily. He moans as he feels the heat of your sex press against him. His hands slide over the curve of your ass, guiding your hips slowly back and forth over his cock. “How are your legs feeling?” He purrs teasingly, your hips keeping the same slow, languid pace as he massages your thighs.

“Shaky.” You admit with a giggle. You pull your lip between your teeth as Falk leaves a trail of kisses across your jaw.

“Think you have it in you to be on top, Mäuschen?” He whispers in your ear.

You start to nod before you pause, remembering Falk’s instructions. “Yes, sir.” Your voice trembles in anticipation.

“That’s my girl.” He praises softly. You shiver as his large hands travel over the curve of your waist, pushing your dress over your head at an agonizingly slow pace. He marveled at how your skin was molded under his thumbs; you were so much softer than he could have imagined now that you were in his hands. You curse as you ease yourself onto his length, your thighs trembling as you settle yourself in his lap. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, trying to muffle the lewd sounds that fell from your lips as he filled you so perfectly. Falk groans at the feeling of you squeezing around him, pushing down on your hips to ensure he is as deep inside of you as possible. “You are… Perfect.” He growls in your ear, making you whine as he rolls his hips. You slowly started to move yourself, Falk’s head thudding against the headboard as he struggled not to fuck into you. Everything about your body felt like it was made just for him: the way his hands fit along the curve of your waist, how easily your lips met his as you sat in his lap, you were everything he could have hoped for, and so much more. Falk’s heart stops as you take his face in your hands, angling his face upwards. His eyes meet yours, your gaze hazy and filled with need. If his heart weren’t hammering so hard in his chest, he would have sworn he had died. You were so beautiful, covered in deep purple love bites and marks from his teeth. You were the closest thing Falk had ever seen to an angel. He wraps an arm around your waist, his larger form allowing him to flip you underneath him easily. He pushes your knees to your chest, and your back arches off the bed as a strangled moan escapes from your throat. One of his hands wraps tightly around your waist, holding you in place as his hips snap against you at an animalistic pace. The other soothingly stroked your cheek, brushing away the tears that had started to gather along your lashes with his thumb. He presses the digit past your lips, the salty taste of your tears mixing with the sweetness of his skin. He leans down close to your ear, tilting your hips up in the process, causing him to hit a spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. He presses a kiss to your cheek before growling, “I have to make sure I fuck you stupid, so no one else will be able to satisfy you.” He chuckles, cradling your head in his hand as his lips trail along your neck. You were putty in his hands, every inch of your body burning with pleasure as he seemed to know exactly how you wanted him to touch you. He curses, resting your head on the pillows as he wraps both hands around your hips. His thrusts were becoming sloppy, gradually losing their tempo as he neared his climax. He falls forward slightly, his hand slamming against the headboard as he catches himself. Your skin seemed to glow under the low light; the thin sheen of sweat that had accumulated on your body made you shine in the darkness. Falk’s breathing was ragged, your moans and cries of his name melodic in his ears as he kept up his harsh thrusts. Sweat dripped from his brow, various tones of grey splattering across your bare torso as his ceremonial paint melted from his skin. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him as deep inside of you as possible. He lets out a sound between a chuckle and a growl. “Careful, Mäuschen.” He warns, his gaze darkening slightly as he studies you hungrily. “I might not be able to pull out in time.”

“Who said I wanted you to.” Your response hit Falk like a slap in the face. He tangles his fingers in your hair, crushing your lips against his as his hips slam into yours fervently. You screamed his name, your body going rigid in his hands as he mercilessly pounded into you. He wanted, no, needed to claim you as his. He curses under his breath, moaning out your name as his hips stutter to a stop. His kisses quickly become more tender compared to the ferocious energy they just held. He holds you in his arms momentarily, allowing both of you time for your breathing to settle. He takes your hand, soothingly rubbing his thumb over your knuckles and bringing them to his lips. He talks you through every little motion as he moves to get you both cleaned up, instructing you to relax so he can handle things. He handles you so delicately, pausing any time he notices you show signs of discomfort. He can take a moment to massage any tender muscles or readjust your position so you’re more comfortable. He crawls under the covers next to you, an arm circling your waist as he pulls you flush against his chest.

“How are you feeling?” He asks softly, soothingly massaging your waist.

“Incredible.” You sigh blissfully. Falk smiles, burying his face against your neck. “I…” you trail off, nervously fidgeting with the edge of your pillowcase. “I’ve had feelings for you for a long time.” Your confession hangs heavy in the otherwise silent room.

“So have I.” He finally responds after a few seconds. “Schön, would you… Would you like to stay?” You feel him squeeze at your waist, trying to pull you closer.

“I would.” You respond quietly. Your attention wanders to the clock on the bedside table, suddenly remembering that it was still the middle of the day and you had tasks you were expected to attend to. “Shit, I’m going to be late–” You’re cut off by Falk pressing his lips to yours, your eyes fluttering shut as you let out a delighted sight. He pushes you back into the mattress, fingers tangling with yours as he pins your hands above your head.

“You can skip out just for one day,” he asks breathlessly in between kisses. “Can’t you, Maus?” He didn’t give you any time to respond before he crushed his lips against yours again. You gave in without much of a fight. After all, spending your afternoon like this was worth the risk of getting in trouble.

Tag List: @spookyghostjelly @belnovacaine @iamsarahsaysso @herripinkle (If you would like to be added or I forgot you please let me know!)

[anteroom-of-death]

Teacher's Pet part 1

Synopsis: The Doctor notices a student. She notices him.

a/n: thank u to the moots for sticking with me. Yall are the best. This is going to be a series. Somewhat of a dark!doctor ish fic maybe. I haven't planned this far. I have ideas. Will switch between a 3rd party but doctor centric POV and a 2nd party student centric POV.

The sun drew itself in on the cold day, light filtering through large windows in the lecture hall. It caught and reflected the motes of light swirling around. First day of the Spring term. Lots of new students trickled in and found their respective seats. Of course, the syllabus was now online and such. But the Doctor still preferred to give a paper one. He felt it helped students focus if they had it real and tangible…unable to forget.

Just like he forgot so much. A lingering pain….

He started up his usual dazzling spiel. Enough to keep them from dropping out, but not enough to rile them to madness. He learned that lesson early on in this particular charade he was distracting himself with. All he had to really do was keep Missy in the Vault and attempt to rehabilitate her. Humans were such a delicate group to keep balanced. Too much stimulation and they would self destruct. Not enough? The same but in a reverse spiral.

Or just fall asleep.

He preferred it if a few actually did fall asleep.

Allowed him to build a reputation as a teacher. Keep the act up.

He didn’t notice the young woman intently staring, writing down the key phrases from his opening statements. He was enraptured in the normal routine he has become familiar with.

The hour came to a close, and he did a bow. He was to visit Missy again some time soon. Just a cursory check. See if she’d calmed down from her last temper tantrum, where she demanded a saxophone and stated that Billy Clinton was also a war criminal, but made some sweet jazz.

He could hardly agree. She already was a mediocre piano player. And the drum set she demanded earlier lay in tatters in her cupboard.

Being her keeper and therapist was rotten work, but it warmed him. Gave him a gram of hope that she may get better and he may have his friend back once more.

Though, he knew in both is hearts, hope could be a fragile thing for a man to hold onto.

But, especially in this body, he believed in redemption and change. They both had forever to change. They had forever.

A few weeks had passed, and he noticed that keen eyes were burning the back of his neck as he scrawled on the chalkboard. It felt different than the usual glazed-over focus of people trying to write or type out his valid points. It was hot and felt more personal. Less trying to pass a class.

He paused his sentence and raked his eyes over. It was a student with large gold hoops and a few tangled gold necklaces. The Doctor recognized two or three of the symbols used on some of them from his travels through Earth’s history. She was chewing hard on her pen. He could see flecks of her tinted chap stick clinging onto the sides of it. Her eyes were squinted slightly and a slight patch of blush rested on her checks. He couldn’t tell if it was a make up look or some feverish feature of her human body. Perhaps she was in the first phases of getting sick!

He went back to his lecture. Some misfocused student was the least of his concern.

But he still felt her eyes bore into him. Intent on something. He trudged on.

He came to a close, reminded everyone of their upcoming projects and let the day start to rest. The Doctor announced that his office hours were changing to represent the spring coming soon and to “Allow you all to feel the sun on your faces, you don’t know how long you’ll have. Humans usually only live once!”

He scanned the audience and saw her shoving her notebook and that well-gnawed on pen into her bag. Big purse with a rhinestone buckle. Resembled something that Rose or Jackie would have had, he mused.

She slung that and a tote bag that seemed overstuffed and ripe for the breaking over her shoulder. She audibly groaned under the weight. He pitied her. The stressed look she had on her face was oddly enchanting in the light just starting to sink.

He knew she was struggling in the class. She did good work, yes. When he opened up questions and debate, she usually had such pointed takes that verged on mind-racing. Sometimes others would bristle against what she said on the more provocative topics he offered up. Essays and tests? Not so much. She floundered.

She had accommodations for some diagnosis or whatever. He could tell her mind was making connections in a far more tangential way than the other’s either couldn’t or wouldn’t make. And for that he did like her. Enjoyed what she brought to the table. Although, even his brains had difficulty making some of the leaps her brain did.

But why was she staring at him like that today? It was almost reverent. Very off putting.

She came forward to his desk and clicked open her notes app .

“Erm…Professor.” She cleared her throat and started up. “Uh, I was wondering if I could see you sooner rather than later. For office hours. I’m sorry for my late essay last week. I don’t know what’s going on with me. I can’t focus and I feel like I’m losing my mind half the time lately. May I have some insight or whatever you want on how I could do better. I know I’m doing…like, so bad.” She confessed and exhaled on the final note of her punctuation.

She turned a new type of stare towards him. Less intense and personal and more of a thousand-yard death grip.

Her entire demeanor in this moment was very lamb like. A confused air of innocent need to do well, to pass her classes, clouded her.

A weaker man would have felt more predatory, he noted.

She wasn’t unattractive for a human, not like past companions he worshiped the ground of. Of course. He was drawn to them for their natures, often ignoring their faces wholesale.

She started to chew and rip at her pinky nail and lower lip simultaneously…

“Of course,” He said. “I have to go help a friend with something, so I have to talk and walk.”

She nodded eagerly and gave such an appreciative smile. “Thanks!” The words came out so quickly, almost breathlessly.

She trotted along side him.

Once outside, they started discussing her options. She had to work nights, she stated, she said so they were arranging a time to work in a little extra help and tutoring.

He genuinely enjoyed her company and led her to a bench.

“What about your friend?” She asked.

“Oh, Nardole can handle himself.” He smiled. “He’ll not miss me for an extra four or five minutes.”

She laughed a bit.

She plunged her hand into her purse and started rifling around. It was a chaotic sight.

She produced a pack of cigarettes and a tiny green plastic lighter.

“Do you mind? I’m trying to quit, but it’s been hell lately.” She grimaced.

He shook his head, no, he didn’t mind. It wouldn’t affect him. Her, yes. But one little luxury, especially if she was trying to quit.

“So long as it’s your last for a while.” He took the teacherly route.

She lit up and took a huge drag. Closing her eyes he noticed that deep look of exhaustion had given her dark purple and almost black under eye circles. She had apparently tried to cover them up with some make up products and some mascara and smudged eyeliner. She held that breath in for a few seconds. It was almost beautiful.

She exhaled and fluttered them open. The smoke wisped and flew away quickly in the gentle breeze.

“Yeah, thanks. People get so weird about smoking. But they’ll vape? Like, indoors. All the time.” She rolled her eyes at that mildly hypocrisy.

They planned for her to meet up with him in his office on Monday just before the lunch hour. Then turned the conversation to some topics in debate that another student, a male who irked her with his constant urge to play Devil’s Advocate. She had some very often-overlooked viewpoints and a very bizarre way of describing things. It was enchanting.

“Thanks.” She ignored a boundary and squeezed his hand. He felt a holy jolt of electricity go up his arm from the small touch. “I gotta go…you’ve got a friend. Works been slow and I have some…appointments. So I have to make sure I’m perfect.” She elaborated with an almost tic-like shake of her head.

“Yes, my friend is probably going insane dealing with our little issue.” He responded in kind. Missy had probably caused Nardole to melt down or malfunction.

He watched her leave towards the bus stop. Her bags hitting her back as she rushed. Her coat barely covering her bottom and the belt caught in the hem of it. He felt himself feeling almost physically unable to leave the bench. Something tugging at his gut was preventing him from doing so. It felt akin to what River and Clara evoked in him but different.

River and Clara were strong and capable, avant-garde. Self-confident. Cocky. But this student was seemingly the inverse. Very vulnerable and nervous to the point of a near imperceptible, even to him with his keen Time Lord senses, shake and a heart that was audibly racing in its cage. Coupled with her addiction to cigarettes and minor tendency towards self mutilation via near-constant picking and chewing…

Something dark, but heartwarming rushed through his core and took root.

He felt himself deeply looking forward to Monday.

[foreststranger]

BLADE - There’s A Major Problem: I

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ(ꜱ) *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ you’re dragging around a dead body lol

ꜱᴛᴀʀʀɪɴɢ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ 『honkai: star rail』blade x gn!reader ft. silver wolf and kafka as emotional support

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ a kinda (barely) angsty-hurty/comfort-maybe-ish-sorta (?) unpolished short-tiny-small-lazy fic where blade dies so you gotta drag him back home and wait for him to heal himself back to life or wtv

𑁍 ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 0.9k

ɴᴏᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ this is based on a dream i had abt him lol anyway i have like 5 diff fics i’m writing and i have only this one finished lmfaooo anyway anyway i also wanted to say sorry for not posting anything in 10 whole days i’ve been a little unmotivated but i’m not gonna be posting for a bit as i’ll be having some family members visiting and unfortunately they speak english and might catch me writing these… HSR x reader fanfics are not something i’d like them to know i write 😍😍 ANYWAY ANYWAY ANYWAY THEY’RE COMING TODAY SO I DECIDED TO CUT THE FIC SHORT MAYBE I’LL CONTINUE IT SOON THOUGH

“Blade, I promise. I’ll always be there to clean you up and take care of you when you’re hurt.”

It feels like years since you made that promise to him. And you regret it. You didn’t know what you were getting into by involving yourself with this man. Blood soaks into your shirt as you look down at him. He’s definitely dead. While you knew of his immortality and regenerative abilities, you can’t help but be a little worried. What if… he doesn’t wake up this time? Blade would certainly want that, but you’re not sure what you’d do without him. His features are soft in the gentle starlight, and he looks… at peace. The only other times you could see him like this were when he was sleeping. After a few more minutes of just admiring him, you remember what you’re supposed to be doing. Your hands grab him from under his arms, pulling him along the cold ground, huffing as you do so.

“Why did you have to go get yourself killed…” you mutter to yourself. Blade is far too heavy for you to carry, so you’re forced to drag him around instead. Even then, it’s a demanding task. Your home was still around a couple of kilometres (roughly a mile) away. You felt like a murderer, bringing around the bloodied body and leaving trails of blood. How were you meant to go back to your neighbourhood like this? Your clothes and hands soaked in scarlet fluid, a dead man in your arms. Under the cover of night, perhaps no one would notice. You grunt as you hoist Blade up a few steps of stairs. Walking backwards, you don’t realize that you’re about to walk into a wall. Until you bump against it, of course.

You crash down to the floor, a piercing pain attacking your skull. Leaning against the wall, you try to lift Blade onto your lap. The effort of lugging him around and the throbbing pain in your head leave you huffing for air. You wipe your crimson hands on your thighs before hugging Blade against you.

“Do you have to be so reckless, Blade…?” You shut your eyes tight, trying in vain to block out the headache. “How am I meant to take care of you…” You hold him close, your face pressing into his back and his dark raven hair.

“I made a promise to you. So, now… I have to take you back home. Try to make this easy for me, okay?” His familiar scent filling your lungs is almost enough to make you completely forget that he’s a corpse as of now. Blood pools around you, soaking almost every inch of fabric covering you. Is it normal for someone to have this much blood? You can’t even tell where it’s coming from, seeming to just flow out of him.

“I love you…” you whisper, planting a gentle kiss on his head. Closing your eyes again, you try to catch your breath before having to drag him off again. When you finally decide to get up, the light of the stars seems to illuminate a path for you, leading the way home. Maybe that’s why they call it Stargazer Navalia.

After a few more minutes of struggling, your pocket buzzes. You’d forgotten that you were keeping Blade’s phone on you. Quickly reaching for the phone, you realize that it could only be one of the Stellaron Hunters.

You put the phone down and breathe out. Both at Silver Wolf’s ridiculousness and in relief that you won’t have to lug around Blade alone anymore. ‘Dear beloved one and only’ is a huge stretch. Though, it was a little nice for her to recognize your… relationship. The Stellaron Hunters were almost like your in-laws, after all.

“Blade? We’re gonna be home soon. Kafka said she’d come help me out.” You can’t help but let out a little chuckle. “I’m so helpless… I can’t even bring you back by myself. At least you’ll be safe soon, though. You’ll be in bed and awake before you know it, Bladie.”

He hated that nickname — saying it reminded him of someone he’d rather not associate with you — but you couldn’t help but call him it sometimes.

Knowing that Kafka is on her way, you decided to settle down for a little and wait for her. But before you can even sit, Blade’s phone vibrates with another notification.

ask before translating, taking inspo from (not copy), reposting, etc. my work. remember to credit me and if you’re taking inspo from it, please @ me as I’d like to see what you do with my ideas!

[meow-hito]

lucid

notes: this is so incredibly self indulgent and i wrote this to comfort myself after THAT scene.

i have posted this on my ao3 <3

You were sobbing over your computer. Your tears staining your desk mats dark fabric as you cried. Mahito had died. They seriously fucking killed the best goddamn character in the show. You banged a fist on your desk in anger. Your tears salty against your lips. “Stupid fucking show.” You muttered beneath your breath. Clicking off and closing the Crunchyroll tab.

You pushed your desk chair out from your desk, wiping the tears out of your itchy eyes and you tapped your phone to peak at the time.

It was 12:30 in the morning. And you were definitely feeling it. Your eyes were heavy with both fatigue and sadness and the scene of Yuji hunting him down replayed in your mind infinitely, making you nauseous as you padded to the bathroom. Your cavalier tailing you after sneaking licks on the back of your legs.

You brushed your teeth and gazed at yourself in the mirror. Maybe you’d try tonight.

You had been meaning to try lucid dreaming for a while now. But you always got distracted. But tonight, you were feeling particularly empty and wanted to see Mahito for yourself. So, you decided.

You moped to your room, your dog’s tail wagging against your bedroom door as you pushed it open. Turning off your lights before grabbing your phone and charging it next to your head. You felt your dog jump up onto your bed, the mattress sinking beneath his feet as he crawled up to lay down next to your body.

You relaxed into the bed, your limbs starfished out as you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into your subconscious. Keeping your mind awake but your body asleep.

When you opened your eyes, you felt pinned down by the sheer weight of the surrounding void. It was inky dark in every direction. And so, so cold.

You scanned the darkness. You had a fleeting worry that your eyes were still closed with how dark it truly was in this place. Was this your subconscious?

Your arms cradled yourself, for both comfort and warmth. You could feel your body heat being stolen with every step forward you took. A wrack of shivers shooting up your spine.

You looked all around you, trying to find something, anything that stood out in this murky black.

And then you saw it.

Him.

He was on his knees, holding himself up with trembling, scraped arms. Your heart seemed to jump in your throat as you moved towards him.

This is what you had been searching for.

His eyes were wide, alert; and yet blank. His gaze was empty as he looked in front of him. You were afraid that he’d disappear before you got to him. Your nervousness growing with every second you weren’t next to him. You started running, taking large, heavy strides to try get to him faster.

It felt like your limbs were made of lead, every step making them heavier, weighing you down.

You stumbled, but you continued to move your legs. You fell just in front of him. snatching his attention to be on you.

Your breath was ragged, your lungs burnt. The cold air stinging your throat as you inhaled.

He looked so small. So different to how he usually was. His hair was loose from its usual ties. It fell shaggily over his eyes and face, shielding his angelic features.

Your legs were so heavy you couldn’t pick them up. you dragged yourself over to him, almost crying out when he looked at you with those wide, owlish eyes. Those beautiful, mismatched eyes of his. Silver and blue.

“I didn’t want you to die.”

Your voice sounded far away; you heard it in your own ears as it seemed to echo through the infinite dark.

His expression shifted away from the fear and closer to confusion.

His state made your heart ache.

“Please come back to me.”

He sat up, his hair trailing down his shoulders, a few strands catching on the stitches that lined his bicep. He was so beautiful.

He looked dumbfounded as you brought yourself closer.

As you got nearer to him, a silver light seemed to illuminate the both of you.

You crawled into it, allowing yourself to drink in the brightness.

It made him look like an angel. The light haloed his head, his dusty blue locks reflecting the spotlight. His face was shadowed, you couldn’t make out his expression as you approached.

“Mahito.”

He took a shaky breath in, and you were finally in front of him properly. Close enough to see his soft features. His downturned eyes. His trembling lips and the sutures that trailed across his cheeks and nose. He was so much prettier in person.

You slow yourself down, feeling your limbs become lighter. You could feel a pull in your chest urging you on further. A motivation that you couldn’t quite pinpoint where it was coming from.

You stared at each other, the lights painting you in piercing white. Almost drowning out your skin and hair.

He was hurt, a large burgundy injury blossomed on his ribs, every slight movement made his body wince involuntarily, and you were sure he would have his twisted foot shielded behind him.

Blood trailed down his mouth, tears brimmed his waterline.

You darted forward, pulling him into a hug, mindful of his injuries.

You knew exactly the scene this was. This was when he fell. When Yuji would walk towards him. your chest ached thinking back to the scene.

But it was okay, you had him now. You released him from your hug, your hands coming up to cup his soft, cold face. Your thumb brushed over the stitches that trailed down from his forehead and over his eye to his chin. His eyes were incredibly soft as he observed you, taking in your appearance.

He had no idea what this place was, he’d just been in the middle of battle. His soul still fluttering with the fear of death. How ironic, the mirror to humanity fearing mortality.

It was pathetic, he knew. But he was scared. An emotion so foreign to him he reacted in the only way he knew he could. He ran.

And before he could do anything, the icey colds surrounding him faded to black. Was this the afterlife? Was he in purgatory? Hell perhaps.

He gazed at you; he’d never been held like this before. Why were you here with him? Were you an angel?

Your eyes were warm, glassy. Your hair a shade he’d never seen before. He thought it was pretty

You were pretty.

And you knew his name.

How did you know him?

“Th-this is my mind I think.”

You said, your voice was echoey and soft, a slight rasp like you had just woken up. and a nasal undertone suggested you had been crying.

Crying over what? He wonders.

He couldn’t find his voice to respond, he just swallowed thickly. A metallic taste lingered on his tongue.

“you’re safe.”

His shoulders visibly relaxed at that; his body has stopped trembling. But he was still cold as a corpse.

You had so much to say and yet he didn’t even know who you were.

“I’m y/n.”

He listened intently; you removed your hands from his face to cross your legs. You grabbed his hands. so much larger than your own.

You thought you would have been afraid to hold his hands. with how much destruction they caused. And yet all you could feel when you held his fingers intertwined with yours was happiness. This was really happening. You were opposite of your favorite character. This was real.

“You- in my world, you’re a fictional character. You’re my favorite.”

You explained, your voice slowly receded from the surrounding area, finding its place in your throat again.

He couldn’t wrap his head around this. Why were you holding his hands? He was a fictional character? What on earth? The strangest part was that you had said he was your favorite. Him? really?

You seemed to pick up on his question subconsciously. You were about to answer, when he shifted slightly, a pained whimper leaving his lips. The first noise you had heard from him ever since you had found him here.

You paused. Thinking for a moment. You were still lucid dreaming right? which meant that you could control this plane. You shut your eyes, your hands squeezing his for support as you thought about healing him. returning him to the way he normally looked. His hair tied in thirds, his poncho with tears in the shoulder. His striped shoes. And his unbattered body and face.

He watched as you shut your eyes, he frowned slightly, wanting to hear what you had to say. But his disappointment turned to confusion once again. a soft glow surrounded him, light sparkled in the air as he felt himself heal. You were healing him. He felt his poncho settle on his skin and his twisted foot was back to normal, his feet snuggly in his white shoes. His hair was brushed off his shoulder and raised before being parted and tied before they were gently placed back down.

When the glow dissipated he stared at you in amazement. What were you and what is this place?

You opened your eyes, being met with a much healthier looking Mahito. you sighed, smiling.

Blinking down at your connected hands as you tried to remember your earlier train of thought.

“R-right, this place, I think its my mind, or my subconscious. I’m lucid dreaming right now.” You explained, your thumb rubbing circles into his boney hands.

“I wanted to meet you. because you mean a lot to me,” you looked up only to be met with confused expression. You laughed slightly “I- I know it doesn’t sound believable. But you are my favorite, you have been for a while. I just really think you’re cool.” There was so much information for him to take in. He was fake in your world. That meant there were other universes apart from his own. The thought was simultaneously comforting and off-putting. Does that mean he died in your universe, and you liked him so much that you decided to meet him and give yourself closure?

He was special to you? how so? He had never met you in his life. But if he was correct with his assumptions, you knew about what he was. What he’d done. And you still liked him?

“I-in my world, a lot of people hate you because of what you did to their favorite characters. But I think it was deserved. Between you and me, I think if Yuji wasn’t the main character you would have won.” You whispered the last part, ranting on to him. He listened to every word. Itadori was the main character in your universe? That made sense.

“You are the main antagonist. Or were.” You added. Retracting your hands from his to rest in your lap.

His hands hovered in the air for a moment before falling to his lap as well. He was the main antagonist? How endearing. Your addition of “were” made him a bit weary though. Does that mean he actually died? “Like I mentioned before, in my universe. In the anime you are in, you die.”

His chest tightened with your words. And people watched this? How humiliating. He shrunk in on himself, only to be stopped when your arms wrapped around him.

“I always defended you, I always will.”

The contact was so new. Strange, but not unwelcomed. It felt admittedly… nice.

He focused on your words. You defended him? like against the people who hated him? How silly. He thought.

You let him go, feeling tears creeping up.

“If I wake myself up, you will go back to your universe and die.” You explain, your voice cracking.

He felt a spark of nerves hit him. so right now, his consciousness was here. Whereas his physical body was back in his own world. Which meant that he had probably died by now. The thought made him nauseous. “I cant do that, physically I cannot bring myself to leave you,” you started, a stray tear falling down your cheek and down onto the floor, it disappeared into the infinite void still surrounding the two of you. “I want to find a way to bring you back with me.” You explain. Taking a deep, shaky breath.

He jerked his head awkwardly in a slight nod. You perked up at his response. Almost forgetting that he was actually listening to you right now.

Obviously, he couldn’t find his voice. Which you didn’t mind. Once you brought him home with you, he’d have all the time in the world to find it. But you had to convince him to let you bring him with you before you woke up.an air of determination filling your mind.

“It won’t work unless you want to come with me, Mahito.”

His gaze averted from your own brown ones. He didn’t want to die; he didn’t want to experience death. He’d probably never get this opportunity again. But him, a fictional character, no less one that carries his amount of power being teleported to your world would surely cause some problems.

He could feel his curiosity building about what your world was like. Did it also have curses? sorcerers? Was it identical to his or was it completely separate? He couldn’t ignore the nagging questions floating in his head. He dug his fingernails into his palm, a welcomed distraction to his current situation. He met your gaze once again; a firm nod was all he gave you.

Your face lit up and you grabbed his hands. the light above you both had begun to fade. Once it disappeared, you’d both be shrouded in darkness as you’d wake up. You held onto his hands. a desperate gamble as you felt your consciousness in this place begin to falter. You met his eyes one more time before the light fully disappeared and you were back in the inky dark.

You’d have to wait until your body woke to get your answer.

[vinegarfiend]

been having some very autistic thoughts lately about @llamagoddessofficial 's siren aus. everytime i think im free from the undertale fandom it digs its claws back into me and pulls me back kicking and screaming. so heres this.

[alwaysthefool]

Like lightning (x Jouno)

Tags/Synopsis: Jouno is scared of the extremely loud and close thunderstorm, comfort, gender neutral

Warnings: reader is a screw up*. again v personal, fear of thunder, loud noises description, cursing, you have symptoms of depression (lol)

You were something akin to a disgraced knight, and you shouldn’t have been allowed to be on any mission, let alone one with a hunting dog. This one, at least, should’ve been easy. You two simply had to stake out in the middle of nowhere, waiting to intercept a van, your own vehicle being hidden behind a few rocks.

You were technically just the driver, and maybe backup, but Jouno did not say anything to you on those lines, and you decided not to ask as you knew he preferred silence. Whatever, he probably has it under control already. You thought even though you did not know him outside his great reputation. You even kept a large distance, deciding to look out for the car at the other side of the road, where you knew it wouldn’t even be coming from. What you did see in the distance, however, were dark clouds approaching.

With a deep breath, mustering whatever confidence you had left, to walk over to him, trying to tiptoe as to not make any noise.

“What they say about you is true.” He stared directly at you, from at least 20 feet away. “You’re useless and sloppy. Was that an attempt at sneaking up on me? He raised his sword at you, closing a little of the distance.

You had heard those kind of words from everybody recently, so it did not affect you much. It was true, you were a mess, you ruined everything and there was nobody to blame. Neither your expressions, nor your heart faltered. There was nothing that could make you more disheartened. If anything, the only way up from that point in your life was up. “I think it’s about to rain.”

“You don’t say.” Jouno replied, a little disheveled and irritated. You could hear the thunder getting closer, the lightning flashes seemingly intense.

“You should watch out from the car, just to be safe.”

Jouno scoffed at that. “Do you think lightning will be able to do anything to me? I’m more durable than even rubber.”

“You’re still just human.” You murmured, stupidly hoping he did not hear your sleight. You thought your wish was answered as he did not respond to that, only telling you to go inside the car alone.

You did not realise when the clouds had come so close, until a lightning stroke struck downwards, meeting a tree not too far away from where you two stood, the light strong enough to make even Jouno flinch, and the thunder that followed within seconds making him hold on to your hand, cursing under his breath. Almost instinctively, you put your hand on his shoulder as a kind gesture, though you knew when he’d come out of the shock, he’d push you away with a nasty comment.

For some reason, he kept holding you, iron tight, his knuckles white, although it didn’t seem to hurt you.

“Hey.” You spoke softly.

“Shut the fuck up.” Jouno’s head was down, but you could still see his nervous expression from how tall he was.

Another flash of lightning struck between the overhead clouds, the sound a little lighter than before but enough to make Jouno cling to you a little closer. You too, held him close to you, realising he eventually turned the distance between you to into an intimate hug, his strong arms encapsulating your waist, his head on top of yours, and his hips as close to yours as they could get. You wondered if anyone had ever held anyone else closer than he was holding you.

“How-“ He flinched again when another stroke of lightning decided to strike on the open grass fields beside the road, not minding as your fingers found their way to his hair, taking off his cap and gently stroking his scalp. He breathed out in contentment, squeezing you a little tighter as if to tell you to continue. “How is your heartbeat so calm?”

You weren’t sure why either. You liked nature, and were used to loud sounds from machinery and weapons that littered your life. And it wasn’t like you cared that much about getting into dangerous situations. Whatever was meant to happen would happen, and there was no point resisting it. “Well, it’s much quieter than all the screams of my victims.” You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

To your surprise, Jouno did let out a soft exhale.

“You really should go inside the car, Jouno.” You reluctantly pulled away to look at him, his sweet face as confused as a dog who did not why he was not receiving pets any longer. He gently tried to tug you into a hug again, but you put your cool hands on his warm face. “Go, I’ll take care of this.”

“No, I want to hear your body. It’s the only thing that- well, I mean-“ His face turned completely red and hot, but he did not pull away from your touch. And maybe for the first time that day, there was irregularity in your heartbeat.

“Tell you what.” Your hands crept down from his face to his hands, which he immediately interlocked with yours. “You can have me for as long as you need after we’re done with this.”

“Oh?” His lips curled into a smirk, but faltered immediately with another nearby stroke of lightning. “Okay.” He obliged, but did not let your hands go. You smiled, a contortion of muscles that felt almost foreign to you, as you reached into your back pocket, his hand that still held yours following, pulling out your phone and earphones.

“You can listen to my playlist to drown out the sounds.”

His hand finally pulled away from yours, as he put your phone in his pocket. “Are you sure you’ll be fine out here alone?”

“I should be the one asking you that.” You retorted. Jouno smiled as he walked back to the car, faithful that the person who could stand their ground against the wrath of the sky would be able to deal with some crooks from nowhere easily.

—x—

*for immersion you can imagine your most recent screw up. lol