#tag thy self | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pinkberrytea · 3 months ago

Text

Astarion is nervous, possibly even afraid that he is about to lose something—that you are about to lose something, something precious and dear to him.

I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes.

Enjoyment beyond the death drive—beyond the self-imposed regulation of pleasure. He wants her, so desperately, so ardently; yet she escapes through his fingers like fine sand, falling on the ground and dissolving in the dirt above his grave.

Astarion x Tav (F!Reader)

w/c: 3k words . ao3 . spotify playlist . 18+ only . nsfw . dividers

a/n: this is the sequel to la petite mort! while it was initially intended as a standalone oneshot, i wanted to expand on the themes introduced in the original. hopefully it lives up to its predecessor! thank you to the wonderful @xxnashiraxx for giving this one a read, i love you dearly friendo!

tags: blood drinking; hurt & comfort; possessive behavior; masturbation; hand jobs; body worship; dry humping

“Astarion…?”

His name slips from your lips before you even open your eyes, your consciousness slowly returning as you are suddenly woken from restless sleep. You feel his naked chest pressed flat against your back, his cold skin robbing you of the warmth of yours; his strong arms encircling your waist, hands roaming your sides; and his fangs, sank deep into the crook of your neck as his wet tongue laps up your crimson, which leaks from the corners of his mouth, dripping down his jaw and onto your shoulders. There is no pain—rather, the sensation is almost pleasurable, familiar, which comes as no surprise considering it’s been months now ever since his nightly feeding sessions became a daily occurrence. You don’t even bother setting up your tent anymore; upon leaving the Shadowlands, he’d begin routinely insisting that you sleep in his, heedless of your mutual agreement to abstain from more carnal proclivities for the time being. “Oh, darling, wouldn’t you say it’s much easier for me to dine with you this way? As hard as it will be for me to keep my hands to myself, I did give you my word,” he’d say, and true enough, you had yet to go beyond very heated kissing and groping—regardless, here he is now, avidly drinking from you while grinding the throbbing bulge inside his pants against your rear.

“Shh. It’s alright, love. Go back to sleep.” Astarion unlatches from your bruising vein to whisper the words in your ear, and you are almost tempted to do just that, but it’s far too late; ignoring him or the erection poking at your backside is no longer an option, and he probably realizes that too, having stopped gliding his hands up and down your torso to gently rest them on your arms instead. You are wearing his shirt, a habit you’ve taken to in recent days—at first you’d lie and say it was because you didn’t want your own to become soiled with blood, though in truth you simply enjoy the intimacy of sharing clothes and the comfort of being enveloped in his scent. Despite seeing right through your excuses, Astarion didn’t seem to mind at all; quite the opposite, he appeared to enjoy the fact that you’d start sleeping clad in nothing but his shirt and your underpants, since oversized as it is, the length would be enough to cover your crotch and thighs. He likely didn’t factor in your agreement, of course—while convenient in most other circumstances, the ease of access wouldn’t exactly be conducive to chastity, so to speak.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you groan and twist your body to face him. He moves one of his hands to your scalp, lovingly running his slender fingers through your tousled hair and planting a bloodstained kiss on your temple. When he finally pulls away to meet your stare, a shiver unexpectedly runs down your spine; his pupils are blown out, almost completely eclipsing his sanguine irises, yet you can undeniably see something primal and hungry lurking in their depths. The candle you had lit before turning in for the night burns bright still, and the light of its dancing flame bounces off his sharp teeth, which had been puncturing your own flesh but moments ago. How easy it is to forget what the heart wants to deny—whenever the true nature of his vampirism rears its ugly head, you find yourself questioning your blind trust in him. Yet like a passing breeze, just as soon as that sliver of doubt weasels its way into your mind, it’s then gone; foolish though it may be, you don’t fear the darkness in him, not now, not when he first put a knife to your throat.

“You’re not a victim. Not a target. Not just one night it’s better to forget.”

Tentatively, you reach out to lightly stroke his cheek, the pads of your fingers ghosting over his ivory skin. His eyelids flutter close as if by instinct, and he quietly leans into your touch, looking almost vulnerable for a moment. Ever so delicately, you trace the lines on his face, his high cheekbones, his cupid’s bow, his plush lips, which are parted still. It amazes you how his features can be at once so edged yet so soft, much like the man himself, in a way. No, you don’t fear him, even if he has given you no reason not to other than a heartfelt confession.

“I—I could help you, you know,” you hear yourself mumble, almost bashfully, a faint glow spreading across the bridge of your nose and warming the tips of your ears. “With that, I mean.” Astarion furrows his brow and his eyes flit back open in confusion, only to slightly widen as you coyly motion with your head towards his obviously tented pants. He looks down at his groin and then up at you, unsure of what to think, much less of what to say. It’s not often that he is left wanting for words, but then again, you were ever one to drag him out of his comfort zone.

“You are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Oh, you little rascal.” Despite the initial shock, he quickly regains composure, almost too quickly. His expression abruptly changes, gaze laced with seduction and lips quirked upwards into a practiced smirk. “Who would’ve thought you’d be the first one of us to acquiesce? I’ll admit your innocent facade had me fooled, but you’re quite the needy thing underneath those big round eyes and blushing cheeks, aren’t you, darling?” he teases, voice lowering an octave, its cadence measured to an almost unnerving degree. Your mouth becomes dry and your stomach coils into a tight knot as you immediately recognize his sudden shift in attitude, a side of him you’ve come to know all too well and that disturbs you still—yet even more worryingly, his otherwise perfectly poised countenance seems to enshroud an emotion that had never been there before: anxiety. Astarion is nervous, possibly even afraid that he is about to lose something—that you are about to lose something, something precious and dear to him.

“I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to.”

“No! That’s… I didn’t mean it like that,” you blurt out, heart fluttering in your chest, so loudly you are sure he can hear it. While you have never gone over the terms of your agreement or discussed them in-depth, you had always assumed that physical intimacy wouldn’t necessarily be off the table, especially the kind of intimacy that would require nothing of him. Although perhaps therein lies the problem—someone who perceives everything as transactional would naturally fail to accept that another would be willing to give without taking. Remorse washes over you as you realize your mistake, which you promptly try to mend, much as the guilt bars you from looking him in the eyes. “What I meant is… I can take care of it. For you.”

Astarion’s eyebrows slowly slide up his forehead and he studies you intently for what seems like an eternity, clearly taken aback. Before long, he finally breaks the silence, humming quizzically and untangling his fingers from your hair. “Hm? Is that right?” he hesitates, only to yet again flash you a sly smile, a much softer one this time, ruby irises twinkling with something akin to melancholy. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?” Despite provocatively purring each word, the tone with which he speaks is remarkably gentle, almost uncertain. Bringing a hand to your chin, he cups it delicately and tilts your head upwards, prompting you to meet his stare, its flirtatious edge now replaced with wistful warmth.

“You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

You inhale sharply, your brief show of boldness having obviously run its course, and the pink flush coloring your ears deepens into a bright red. His smile widens once he notices your nervousness, and he brings his face even closer to yours, so close you can feel his lashes tickling the delicate skin under your eyes. His cool breath caresses your lips, the metallic scent of blood—your blood—wafting up your nose. Still cupping your chin, he at last closes the distance between you, covering your mouth with his and hooking a leg over your waist to pull your bodies flush together. With the swell between his thighs now nudging your belly, he starts leisurely rolling his hips, resuming what he had been doing before rousing you from your slumber.

“Hnng…” As you bury your fingers in his silvery curls, melting into the kiss and relishing the taste of him, Astarion lets out a muffled moan, low and throaty. Wetness starts pooling between your folds, though instead of indulging in the sensation, you try to ignore it to the best of your ability—tonight is not about you, and you want him to know this. Regardless, he can obviously smell your arousal, but far from causing any upset, it only serves to entice him further; sliding his free hand down your back, he firmly grabs one of your buttocks with a bruising grip upon reaching your ass, kneading it roughly. All this time, he’d been graciously accepting your generosity, and then some—he’s not about to stop now, not when for once he knows he hasn’t manipulated you into extending your kindness to him.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had to decide what I wanted.”

“Mngh—Astarion…” you mewl into his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside yours, fangs nipping at your bottom lip without breaking skin. You press one of your palms to his chest, feeling the firmness of his pectorals under the soft pads of your digits before gingerly sliding them downwards, raising a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Drawing small circular patterns, you slowly glide your blunt nails across the valleys of his ribs, his navel, and finally his lower abdomen, teasingly grazing the waistband of his pants.

“My, such a good little helper you are,” Astarion breaks the kiss to murmur against your reddened lips, and moving his hand on your chin down to grasp your own, he encourages you to venture under the waistband. Your fingers now intertwined with his, you let him guide you to the hardness pushing against his smallclothes, which are damp with precome, much like yours are damp with slick. You can feel the outline of his length through the thin fabric, and he unceremoniously has you both fist it, wiggling his hips so that his pants drop below the plump of his behind.

“Such a good, selfless little helper…” he croons, sliding both of your hands up and down his still covered cock. With every pump, his groans grow huskier, small beads of sweat pooling in the creases of his forehead. His eyes are now closed, his mouth slightly parted, and his hold on your hand is strong, if not binding. Your dripping sex wantonly clenches around nothing at the sight of him, so hopelessly focused on his own pleasure; gods, how desperately you wish to be stretched open around his enlarged girth, stuffed full of him until you are both flailing for purchase, panting and screaming each other’s name. He may not be ready for that yet, but as your imagination wanders, you tell yourself that there’s no harm in picturing him taking you from behind, balls swinging and hitting your ass as he thrusts deep into your slit with reckless abandon; your lips wrapped around his flushed cockhead, one of his hands mercilessly tugging at your hair as he sings you praises; you bouncing on his lap, buttocks slapping against his legs with each bob of your body.

“Astarion…” you moan, rubbing your thighs together to get some relief from that small amount of friction. His cock jerks under your combined hands, so hard now that his smallclothes are pulled back enough to reveal the swollen tip. How sweet is the sound of his name on your tongue, how sweet is the scent of your desire when he is the one you yearn for. Just as you fantasize about him, Astarion too keeps replaying all sorts of scenarios in his head—he hates that he can’t have you yet, that he can’t pin you to a wall or throw you on a table and fuck you until you beg him for mercy; he hates that he can’t watch your cute little tits jiggle as your tight cunt swallows him whole, that he can’t coax pretty noises out of your rosy lips and make your eyes water as you come for him. He hates that his lust for you is tainted, that his lust for you is what inspired him to choose you as his target in the first place. Most of all, he hates himself for having disregarded you as a beautiful fool; for having underestimated his own susceptibility to falling in love, for having even fallen in love at all.

“You’re a vision. And you’re so much more than that.”

“Gods, I want to be inside you…” Astarion grunts, letting go of you to pull down his smallclothes, finally freeing his weeping erection. It glistens in the candlelight, red and hungry, and you waste no time wrapping your fingers around its base. A muted whimper falls from his lips once your warm skin collides with his, and he rolls his hips into your hand, to which you respond by lightly squeezing him, drawing pearly, sticky liquid from the twitching crown. “Gentle, darling…” he whispers, though his half-lidded eyes, hazy with want, show no sign of aggravation—despite the commanding tone of his voice, it’s safe to assume that the instruction is not so much a complaint as a suggestion. Regardless, you obey, stroking him softly and setting a sensual pace to your movements.

“That’s it. That’s it, love. Good girl…” With his newly freed hand, Astarion tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, tenderly brushing his long fingers against your cheek before inconspicuously running them down the elegant column of your neck. His gaze is immediately drawn to the fresh set of bite marks maculating your otherwise perfectly smooth skin, and he absentmindedly licks his lips upon noticing the ruby droplets blooming from the small wounds. His cock throbs against your palm as he lowers his head to plant a loving kiss on the spot earlier claimed by his fangs—which he then sinks again into the still seeping artery. This time, you feel a sharp sting, but as soon as he starts sucking, the pain fades away; he wraps an arm around your upper body to hold you in place as he drinks, cradling you against his chest, and his other hand quickly finds one of your breasts under your—his—shirt. Trapping its puckered peak between two deft digits, he pinches it playfully, and you are unable to stifle the whine that subsequently forms in the back of your throat.

“Asta—aah…” You try to remain focused on the task you’ve been entrusted with, tightening your grip on him to remind yourself that he is the priority, not you. This in turn causes him to moan against your neck and shove his hips forward; taking his reaction as a cue, you speed up the tempo of your strokes, which are now almost synchronized with the vigorous bobbing of his Adam’s apple. His hand on your breast gropes it passionately, all five of his fingers now splayed across its soft swell and digging deep into the squishy flesh. He wonders if it’s a deliberate act of provocation, or if you really are so naïve that you wouldn’t notice his ravenous stare whenever your nipples pebble and become visible through the white sheerness of his shirt. Knowing you, it’s probably the latter; he’s yet to meet anyone as oblivious as you are, and while he has learned to accept that this side of you is not necessarily a weakness, it also awakens in him a protective instinct—a possessive instinct. You may be prey, but you are his prey; his to feed on, his to fuck, his, and nobody else’s.

“Honestly, I have no idea what we’re doing. Or what comes next.”

Astarion bends the leg hooked around your waist to pull you even closer to him, and from the way his groans increase both in frequency and in volume, you can tell he is about to fall over the precipice of ecstasy. The glossy sheen of sweat covering his pale skin makes him look like a marble sculpture, an otherworldly creature, yet the ferocity with which he feasts on your crimson reveals him not touched by the divine, but consumed by sin. It’s almost ironic then, that sinful as his longing for you may be, it feels so pure, so sacred. Tension coils low in his stomach, and for once there is no guilt, no disgust, no contempt; only rapture, as if he were an apostate and your love a haven, a promise of sanctuary.

“But I know that this?”

You pump him one last time, and with a guttural growl, Astarion comes in your hand, spurting out ribbons of his seed all over his own abdomen and thighs. Unlatching from your neck, he doesn’t bother pulling away, bloodied lips still pressed against your heated flesh, and his hand that had been under your shirt joins the other as both of his arms fold around your midriff. You let go of his softening length to run your fingers through his curls, closing your eyes and trying to catch your breath, tiredness suddenly weighing down all of your limbs and anchoring them to your bedroll. Lulled by the gentle pounding of your heart, he too empties his mind and lets himself be engulfed by the warmth of your body, so soft, so inviting, so very alive. Your taste still lingers on his tongue, your lifeblood now mixed with his within his veins—as his happiness trickles down in rivulets of scarlet, yours soars into the starry night sky.

“This is nice.”

#personal #astarion #bg3 #astarion x tav #bg3 fic #astarion smut #astarion x female reader #astarion x you #astarion x reader #tavstarion #my fics #fic: bloodless

513 notes · View notes

rad-roche · 2 years ago

Text

sure thing!

here's the full list, but anything highlighted is what i'd consider essential to building this sort of stuff, the rest you can take or leave. dynamic surroundings doesn't have to be in there, for example, i just like more than vanilla. cocricot and miniatura are what i use for the building/furniture (specifically 1.12.2), effortless building is to make it not feel like pulling teeth. shaders are sildur's vibrant on medium, but that'll come down to personal preference

tinkering away on another build. it's a townhouse!

it looks a little lonely there, but the plan is to add more. a flock of townheese. interior shots under the cut

second floor

and finally, the third floor

#this is all done through multimc as well which is a HUGE QoL upgrade over the normal launcher #minecraft #self-reblog #fuzzydreamin #lee-by-thy-side #happy building!#feel free to tag me in anything you make with this i love seeing Tiny Cube Arrangements

466 notes · View notes

saturnville · 1 month ago

Text

ember & hush | kelvin harrison, jr.

pairing: kelvin harrison jr x black fem oc (nia) summary: when Nia experiences an inconvenience at her apartment, Kelvin offers to let her stay with him for the night, which leads to tension and lines being crossed. warnings: none wc: 4823 an: the girlies are giving khjr love, and I am all the way here for it. I am tagging folks from my terry richmond taglist, so message me if you want to be removed. remember: likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are encouraged! tags: @mauvecherie-writes @saintslewis @vile-harlot @emjayewrites @turn-thy-paige @theglamclosetsl @mymindisneverhere

Most people hated old apartments. The beauty of aches, creaks, and groans of old floorboards and rusted windows was foregone when gray laminate floors, white cabinets, and stainless steel appliances took over Architecture Digest.

But she loved her apartment. Nestled in the rear of a Victorian-style building turned small investment property. It wasn’t much, but its beauty was indescribable. From the stained windows with stories of Mary and Jesus to Romeo and Julie and even Mona Lisa were her greeters each time she crossed the threshold.

Her heels were pitter-pattered against the cracked tile floor as she trekked toward the elevator. Her forearms grew weary from the lines of bags on her arms. It was her monthly restock day, and as usual, she went a bit overboard and was paying the consequences by nearly colliding with the wall beside her.

“Oof,” she grunted, wobbling a bit. She stuck her hand out to press the elevator button. She whistled a soft tune as she waited for the doors to open. A soft ding indicated she was next up for a luxurious ride. The first layer of doors peeled open, revealing her neighbor, Kelvin, on the other side.

Her eyes dropped to the bag in his hand, which was labeled with the logo of the local Chinese restaurant on the corner. She chuckled and stepped into the elevator. “Chinese for the third time this week? It’s only Thursday.”

Kelvin laughed mockingly. “Cooking isn’t in the cards this week.” He tilted the bag as if offering a confession. “I’m in survival mode.” She nodded in understanding. Seeing him rush out the door from her peephole early in the morning with a backpack slung over his shoulder to see him trudge indoors later in the evening proved his words correct. His job wasn’t the most graceful, but he adored it. She could tell from how his eyes lit up when she asked about his day while they passed each other in the apartment foyer.

“I see,” she concurred.

A moment of silence settled before Kelvin spoke up. He nodded toward her bags. “You sure you didn’t make a Chinese restaurant run?”

Nia’s eyes dropped toward her bags as if unaware of what she had swiped her debit card on. She smiled softly as she thought of all she had gotten. Investing in herself and her relaxation was non-negotiable; monthly restocks were planned and budgeted monthly. She deserved to treat herself with care.

“All the self-care goodies. Lotions, body washes, snacks. Everything to keep me happy this weekend.” The smile on her face didn’t fade, and it was contagious. It was so infectious that Kelvin didn’t realize a small smile bore on his lips. However, he saw how the bags slowly weighed her down.

The elevator dinged again.

“Here.” Kelvin held his hands out. Nia sighed thankfully and slid some of her bags into his awaiting hands, choosing to ignore the jolt that shot down her spine when their fingertips touched. Ever the gentleman. She didn’t surround herself with men often, but Kelvin was the one man who made her feel comfortable and cared for. From when he opened the door for her, helped carry her groceries, and let her borrow his utensils when she realized she was lacking. He stood outside and jumped her car for 30 minutes at 12 degrees last winter. He always had her back.

Her hand touched his bicep, which she tried not to squeeze, and said, “Thank you.”

The walk to her apartment was short. Nia continued to engage with his new questions about her day as she dug in her messy tote for her keys. “Uh, I had a client I tried not to cuss out, but what’s new.” She went to put the key in the door, but much to her surprise, it opened on its own. Her eyebrow raised, and her heart pounded. She locked her door this morning. What happened?

“But I…” She was in a rush this morning; maybe she forgot to lock it. But even if she didn’t, why did her door open? A busted lock didn’t mean her door shouldn’t shut. The hinges were loose.

Kelvin sensed her discomfort and growing panic. His eyes cut toward her apartment, whose vanilla and cedarwood scent wafted beneath his nose. He returned his gaze to her.“You sure you closed the door all the way?”

“Positive.” She nodded. She gnawed on her bottom lip like candy as her brain rattled off a million possibilities that had to make a fraction of sense. “I don’t…maybe the hinges are loose? I don’t want to go in…will you…can you?”

Kelvin pushed the door open slightly, peeking his head around without further question. “Yeah, stay here.” With the door wide open, she watched his movements intently. Her bags left his strong hands, and she was given a home on the couch. He maneuvered around the living, dining, and kitchen before disappearing down the hallway. She heard light switches flicker and doors open.

“I think you’re good. We’ll call maintenance first thing in the morning,” he said as he returned down the hallway, suave and confident like he’d been there before. “What do you want to do?”

Nia’s face twisted. What else was she going to do? There was no other home for her to go to. “What do you mean? There’s nothing else to do but suck it up; I don’t know…I rather not, but…”

Kelvin’s eyes followed hers as they bounced around her home. Her arms were crossed over her chest, a clear sign of fear. Watching her shrink away from her own home felt wrong. He spoke before he thought: “You can stay at my place until they fix the lock if you’d like. I still got the food and a dope DVD collection,” he suggested.

Nia’s eyebrows raised. She and Kelvin had been neighbors for years, but she had never been in his home, and up until today, he hadn't been in hers either. Her delayed answer caused him to retreat visibly, growing bashful.“I’m sorry…”

Nia smiled shyly. He was so kind. “I don’t want to invade your space, Kel.” He quickly shut down that thought, insisting it was a genuine offer made by his desire for her to feel safe. He insisted that he didn’t mean to overstep, which she shut down by saying, “I don’t think you were overstepping…I wasn’t expecting it, is all, but I do appreciate your offer. Would you mind sticking around while I shower?”

Kelvin huffed a breath of relief and nodded immediately, “Absolutely.”

Nia shut the front door as far as possible, pushed a half-full case of water by her door that had been there for days in front of it with her foot, and instructed him to make himself comfortable while she took a quick shower. He then took the time to digest the place she called home. Everything about it screamed her, from the fine-line paintings to the green accent wall with a gold coffee cart pressed against it. Her apartment exuded warmth, which lulled him to sleep against the fuzzy throw blanket on the back of her couch.

Twenty minutes later, her unforgettable scent pulled him from his light slumber. When he peeled his eyelids open, she stood before him dressed in a satin long-sleeve pajama set with fuzzy slippers, her hair wrapped in a scarf, and her face free of makeup. She looked like a teenager going to her best friend’s house for a sleepover. It was good enough for him if she felt comfortable enough to present herself to him in the way she might do alone. It meant, to some extent, she trusted him. He had never given her a reason not to. He was a gentleman, she insisted. He wouldn’t try anything. Right?

Seeing him asleep on her couch pulled her out of her thoughts.“Sorry, sleeping beauty,” she said. Kelvin gave a lopsided grin. Her laughter softened the tension in the air, and Kelvin couldn’t help but notice how his chest tightened at her relaxed smile. God, she made comfort look effortless and asked if she had all she needed for the night. She nodded, pointing toward the tote on her shoulder.

The walk to his apartment was short as he only lived two doors down. As they inched closer to his apartment, Nia found herself growing nervous. Was she a fool for going into this man’s home? She had known him for some years, so she did trust him. Maybe she was overthinking.

Kelvin stuck his key into the door and pushed it open. “Welcome. What’s mine is yours, so make yourself comfortable.” Nia was in awe. Her inner artist wanted to jump up and down. His apartment was every artist’s dream. It was covered in black-and-white prints, abstracts, line art, and much more. It was clean and smelled amazing, and the couch in the middle of the living room looked like a cloud.

“Your place is beautiful, Kelvin,” Nia complimented genuinely. Kelvin’s eyes dropped just slightly as he thanked her bashfully.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Feel free to eat,” he raised the bag of almost-forgotten Chinese food. “The DVDs are in the television stand…or streaming services; pick your poison. Kitchen is to your left, bathroom is down the hall and the first door on your right.” Kelvin locked the front door and jogged toward his bedroom, leaving Nia to make herself comfortable on the kitchen island as she helped herself to some of his food.

Nia paused for a few moments, realizing she had no fork. She pondered. Would it be rude to go through his drawers? Yes. He did say what was his was hers. But people always say that; did he mean it? Well, he had to if he opened his home to her. “Girl, get it together,” she mumbled. Hunger won the battle over politeness, and she hopped off the bar stool. Her slippers scraped against the floor as she tiptoed around the kitchen like a bandit.

The first drawer revealed four piles of neatly folded towels, all organized by color. She nodded in approval. “Not bad, Kel.” The second held measuring cups and spatulas. “Okay, chef.” However, the Chinese bag on the island and two additional ones in the trash said otherwise. The third revealed a beautiful set of black silverware. “Victory!”

Sliding back onto the bar stool, she savored the flavor of the chicken and noodle dish. She glanced around his apartment between bites, taking extra time to examine the art and the stack of records in the corner of the room. His apartment—his home—felt inviting. Like him.

Sometime later, Kelvin came around the corner, seemingly more relaxed. Sweatpants and a T-shirt had replaced his dress pants and sweater. Nia had seen him in a durag before, but something about it was different this time. His deep stretch exposed the slight curve of his waist beneath his sweatpants, and she found her gaze lingering longer than usual—an amplifier of a pulsing feeling between her thighs. She snapped her eyes away quickly.

“How you feelin’?” He asked as he approached her. Suddenly, Nia felt her heart race as she stammered, I’m good. “Good. Hope you left some food for me. Got some on your face, too.” Nia gasped and scrambled for a napkin, hoping the grease hadn’t made her look like a pig rolling in mud.

Kelvin’s hearty laugh halted her movements. “I’m playing with you, girl.” Nia’s eyes lowered in annoyance. His dimpled smile was the spark that ignited something warm within her. She suddenly felt bashful, embarrassed almost, yet dually at ease. How did he manage to do that?

“Anyway,” Nia dragged, turning on the bar stool to face him. Kelvin leaned against the counter, attentive as he ate the remainder she didn’t eat. Her palms were sweating, and she wondered if it was the temperature in the room or just him standing there, leaning so casually against the counter. She hadn’t expected to feel so… off-balance. She tried not to show how his gaze affected her as she continued, “What does your DVD collection include?”

Kelvin cocked his head to the side and nodded a few times. His tongue darted out to lick his lips. They were full. Full and plump and moisturized, she wondered what they tas—. Dear God. Nia, get it together, she scolded internally.

“Damn near every Marvel movie. Most of the Black cinema movies: Love, Jones, A Thin Line Between Love and Hate, Last Holiday, Brown Sugar—“

Nia’s eyes lit up. Kelvin couldn’t miss it. His eyebrow raised, “First one of the night?” She nodded like a kid who cheerfully finished their chores and awaited their allowance.

“Let’s get it going, then.”

Kelvin had soon plopped on the couch beside her, the smell of Chinese food lingering between them. Still adjusting to the fact that she was in his home, Nia shifted uncomfortably on the cushion. Her legs, sprawled out normally when she was alone, were tucked tightly beneath her bottom.

She could feel the warmth of his body next to hers, but she kept her gaze ahead. Her heartbeat pounded so vigorously that she felt it in her ears. Curling the blanket tightly under her chin, she shrank into the couch cushion.

Kelvin didn’t miss the small movements she made to avoid getting close. He sensed the tension but didn’t press. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. After a beat, he reached over her to grab the remote. He didn’t miss how she gasped when his fingertips grazed her ankle in passing.

“Hey,” he said, his voice light and teasing. “You gonna sit over there or come over here and share the blanket?”

Nia’s eyes darted diagonally as if looking for a way out. Was it that obvious, or was he hyper-vigilant? She shrugged a shoulder. She scooted over just a bit, but not enough to close the large gap between them.

Kelvin chuckled, the sound warm, “Girl, get over here,” he said softly, a playful yet inviting invitation. He wasn’t about to push her, but he wanted her to feel wanted.

Nia finally gave in with a reluctant smile. Slowly, she moved until their hips brushed. Kelvin reached over her to adjust the blanket, ensuring she felt comfortable. She stole a glance at him as he adjusted his position. He was so calm and relaxed as if it were natural and second nature.

They ate silently, passing the food back and forth as their eyes followed the scenes on the screen. They said tiny because they were content but unprepared to address their tension. Everything between them felt effortless, like a routine they’d perfected.

Halfway through the movie, Nia yawned. Work, shopping, and dealing with her door had done a number on her, and all she desired was her head against a pillow and a room of darkness for eight hours. “I think I’m gonna crash.” Her eyes dropped slightly as she moved the blanket to cover her feet. “I’ll just sleep here on the couch.”

Kelvin blinked, clearly surprised. “You wanna sleep on the couch?” His voice softened, and Nia saw a hint of concern in his eyes for the first time. “Nah, I don’t want you sleeping on the couch.” He shook his head in disagreement.

Nia’s lips parted, “I don’t want to displace you…”

Kelvin laughed as if what she had said was part of Kevin Hart’s comedy set. “You’re not gonna displace me, Nia; I live here. I’ll be cool, regardless. I didn’t buy those expensive ass couches for no reason. I just don’t want you sleeping on them. Sleep in the bed.”

Her silence and awkward sway didn’t go unnoticed. She fiddled with her fingers like a child and pursed her lips. She knew it was kind of him, but she still felt a smidge of guilt. This man, her neighbor, had opened his home to her, let her eat his food, and lounge on his couch watching her favorite movie. Now, he insisted on her sleeping in his bed, not because he wanted to sleep with her but because he wanted her to be comfortable. Her other neighbors were friendly, but they weren’t kind like this. The kindness was overwhelming. Overwhelmingly sweet.

Kelvin tilted his head. His words tested unsteady waters: “You want me to sleep with you?”

And just as she thought she couldn’t get any more flustered, Nia’s face warmed like the earth beneath the sun’s rays. She stammered, “W-what? No—not like that.”

The corner of Kelvin’s lip twitched as he tried to hide his smile. For someone so outwardly confident, Nia had the awkwardness and quirks of a 17-year-old girl. She was easily bashful and overwhelmed, often stuttered over her words when embarrassed and had difficulty keeping eye contact with him after more than 30 seconds. Yet, the average Joe would never know that by her soft smile, steady walk, and confident sway of her hips. It was cute.

“Not like that,” he reassured softly. “If that’ll make you comfortable. No funny business.” Kelvin raised his hands like a boy scout and nodded stiffly to emphasize his point. Nia rolled her eyes playfully and agreed. For her comfort, she told herself.

Kelvin instructed her to head to his room, the farthest down the hallway on the left, while he cleaned the laundry room and kitchen. Nia grabbed and slung her tote bag over her shoulder, curiously walking down the hallway. The smell of newly purchased wallflowers caressed her senses, adding a new level to domesticity.

Kelvin’s room wasn’t like the rest of his home, which was vibrant and full of colors and patterns. His bedroom was calm, dimly lit, and minimal. His bed was in the center and took up most of the space. The cloud-like duvet was pristine white and looked new. Her fingertips caressed the soft fabric. Her brown eyes raised, and she nodded approvingly at what she saw. Three prints hung horizontally above his bed, all fine-line art of the Black woman—beautiful.

Two black nightstands with matching lamps accompanied the bed. One nightstand, which she assumed was his, contained a book, a journal, a BIC pen, and glasses scattered about, while the other was empty, waiting for something to accompany it.

A chair and small table were in the corner, along with books and magazines written by Black authors and published by Black companies, plus a plant. She smiled. It was cozy.

Nia found her way to the bathroom. Its aesthetic matched his bedroom. Black and white with hints of earthy colors. She set her toiletry bag on the counter next to his, her white one contrasting with his black one. She found herself soaking in his space. Her fingertips ran over the hand towels, sleek hand soap bottles, and the cap that covered his toothbrush. She was with him. In his home. In his room and his bathroom. They were close.

Nia gasped when the door opened. “Sorry, you alright?” Nia nodded and ushered him in. Kelvin’s body heat set her on fire as he reached above her to grab his contacts case out of the medicine cabinet. Her eyes fluttered closed. She inhaled quietly. He smelled so good.

His question pulled her out of Lala's land quicker than she would have liked. “You mind if I brush my teeth in here?”

“It is your house, Kelvin,” Nia stated matter-of-factly. “Go ahead. I need to brush mine, too.”

The bathroom was quiet, save for the soft hum of Nia's electric toothbrush and the rhythmic sound of bristles against teeth. She hummed absently, her tune mingling with the buzz of the brush. When her eyes lifted to the mirror, she froze, caught off guard—not by her reflection, but by Kelvin’s gaze. He’d already been looking. His brown eyes held hers for a heartbeat, a game of hide-and-seek she hadn’t known she was playing. Then, he winked. Heat crept up her neck as she fought the smile threatening to curl around her sudsy, blue toothbrush.

Kelvin leaned forward, spitting into the sink before rinsing his toothbrush. "You hum off-key, you know that?" he teased, shaking water off his hands.

Nia gave him a dramatic side-eye through the mirror, blue toothpaste foam still coating her lips. "And you hold your toothbrush like you're fencing. What's your point?"

He laughed low and easy, the sound reverberating through the small bathroom. She rinsed her mouth and joined him at the sink. Their movements fell into an unspoken rhythm: she reached for the towel as he dried his face, their elbows brushing, but neither pulled away.

"You heading to bed?" she asked, her voice light, as if it wasn’t the only question between them.

Kelvin nodded, tossing the hand towel over the rack. "Yeah. You?"

"Guess so," she said, tucking a stray curl under her bonnet.

His eyes lingered on her for a moment too long as if gauging her next move. Without waiting for his response, she padded toward his room, her bare feet muffled against the carpet. Kelvin followed, flipping the light switch off as he went.

Nia plopped onto the bed, tucking her knees beneath her, and pulled the covers up to her chin. She bit her lip, glancing over at Kelvin, still standing by the dresser and slipping his shirt off. How often did he work out? Three days a week? Four, five? She couldn’t tell, but she knew it was frequent by how his back tensed with subtle movements. Her mind raced, and she swallowed, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach.

“Uh,” she started, her voice quieter than she intended. “I guess this is the part where you’re supposed to say something cute, right?”

Kelvin shot her a playful look, eyebrow raised. "Like what?"

She hesitated, then half-smiled, her face warming. "I dunno, like 'I’m glad you’re here,' or 'I can’t imagine sleeping without you'… something sweet."

Kelvin chuckled, shaking his head as he climbed into bed beside her. "You want me to lie?"

Nia shrugged, her fingers nervously twisting at the hem of her shirt. "Maybe not lie, just… something that doesn’t sound so weird."

He gave her a teasing look before letting the silence hang for a second, the air between them feeling lighter than before. "Alright," he said, his voice gentle. "I’m glad you’re here."

Her breath caught for a moment. It wasn’t just a casual remark—it was real. He wasn’t trying to ease her anxiety with empty words; it was exactly what she needed to hear. Her lips parted in surprise, but she couldn't entirely hide the joy she felt from his statement. Her reaction seemed to satisfy him, as his eyebrow raised and his dimples appeared.

“Thanks," Nia murmured, her voice quieter now, almost shy. "I’m glad I’m here, too.”

Nia’s fingers kept fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, cautious energy buzzing through her veins. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this unsure, but her body betrayed her want with every passing second. One moment, she yearned for his attention; the next, she was shaking like a stripper when she got it. And Lord knows it didn’t help that Kelvin was beside her so calmly as if he didn’t have the treasure between her thighs ready to explore.

Kelvin, already propped up on the pillows beside her, had an arm behind his head, his eyes casually studying her. Had his eyes always been this pretty? They were so big and brown. Like a baby, though. She glanced at his chest, still warm from the clothes he shed earlier, and she felt her heart race again. What was it about him that made her feel like this?

Kelvin noticed her gaze, and his lips curved into something that felt like reassurance and an unspoken invitation. His hand moved, resting just above her knee, but he didn’t lean any closer. He didn’t have to; the space between them felt alive, thick with anticipation.

“You okay?” His voice was low and soft, like he knew exactly how she felt.

Nia swallowed, her throat dry. Glancing away, she bit her lip, unsure of how to answer. She was more than okay, but putting that into words seemed too much. She nodded, her voice small when she spoke.

“Yeah. Just… nervous.”

Kelvin’s hand shifted from her knee to her thigh, his touch lingering there. “You don’t have to be nervous. It’s just me.”

She could feel his warmth through the fabric of her pants, and her breath hitched slightly at the feel of his palm pressing against her. She wanted to say something—to laugh it off, to ease the tension—but her mind was fuzzy, distracted by how her body responded to his touch. Yeah, just you, she said to herself—the man who had seemingly flipped her already wild world on its head even further.

Slowly, as if testing the waters, she moved slightly closer. Her back brushed against his chest, and she heard his breath catch at the slight contact. Her heartbeat sped up as she felt the heat radiating off of him. But still, she didn’t turn toward him, not yet. She was unsure, but she also wanted him there.

Kelvin’s hand shifted again, inching up her side, his fingertips grazing the skin beneath her shirt. His breath was warm against her ear as he leaned in just slightly as if to say something, but his voice faltered, caught between them.

Nia’s body responded before her mind did, her back relaxing as she pressed closer to him. It wasn’t much—just a shift—but it felt like a silent invitation. And it was all he needed.

His fingers found their way to her waist, gently caressing the curve of her body. The movement was so slow that it was almost as if he were waiting for her to pull away. But she didn’t. Instead, she exhaled, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she let herself melt into his touch. Her heart was racing.

Kelvin’s heart raced, too, but it wasn’t from the anticipation. It was the unfamiliar tug of something deeper. His hand, still resting lightly on Nia’s waist, seemed almost too heavy now. He had to fight the instinct to pull away, to give her space—but there was something about how she shifted toward him, her breath soft against the air, that made him want to lean in closer. He could smell the hints of vanilla and honey on her skin. He wanted to bury his nose in her neck and inhale.

He didn’t want to move too fast. Didn’t want to scare her off. But every little breath she took, every slight movement she made, felt like an invitation for something more.

His hand stayed where it was, not quite touching the softness of her skin beneath her shirt but just close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her. He wanted to trace the curve of her waist, feel her breath hitch again, maybe even make her laugh or stammer, but there was a part of him—this silent voice in the back of his mind—that told him to wait. Patience was a virtue, grandmother always said.

He shifted slightly, his gaze flickering from the softness of her face to the curve of her neck. His lips tingled as he imagined kissing her there. He felt her pulse beneath his lips as her body reacted to him in ways it may not have responded before. But he pulled himself back, catching himself just before his thoughts got too far ahead. Nia was already nervous, already unsure.

Her back pressed against his chest, and the simple contact sent a jolt of electricity through him, sharper than anything physical. The warmth of her body was a stark contrast to the cool sheets around them, and he could feel every inch of her. What if he moved too fast? What if he said the wrong thing?

Kelvin wasn’t one for hesitation, but with Nia, everything was different. He wanted to be gentle, to let her feel like she wasn’t just a passing moment. He wanted her to feel safe with him, to know that when he touched her, it wasn’t just about tonight.

Finally, when she moved closer again, he couldn’t hold back. His hand, frozen in place, finally pulled her in closer. His fingers skimmed the skin of her abdomen as he slowly wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her even tighter. This time, when she exhaled, her body relaxed into him, and his breath came out in a rush of relief.

“Goodnight, Kel,” Nia murmured into her arm.

“Sleep well, beautiful,” was the last thing she heard before falling into her best sleep in a long time. Because, for once, she didn’t have to go to bed alone.

Part two

#saturnville #kelvin harrison jr.#kelvin harrison jr x reader #kelvin harrison jr x black oc #kelvin harrison jr x black reader #black!reader #black reader #x black oc #kelvin harrison jr smut #aaron pierre x black reader #mufasa the lion king #original content

258 notes · View notes

killernotinlove · 2 months ago

Text

ৎ୭ ﹔ Sunday iD Pack 。。。self-indulgent No KiN ／ iD ／ me tags

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ unless moots

⠀「⠀ Names ﹔ Sunday* 。Soleil* 。Sören* 。Diviny 。Dawn 。Helios 。Cyrus* 。Avery 。Evangeline 。Angélique* 。Engla 。Angeil 。Zaniel 。

⠀「⠀ Pronouns ﹔ Hwe／Hwim 。Wi／Wing 。Angel／Angels 。Di／Divine 。Sad／Sadden 。Lone／Lonely 。Cage／Caged 。Arch／Archangel 。Fall／Fallen 。Lo／Lost 。Hide／Hidden 。Hao／Halo 。Sor／Sorrow 。🪽／🪽 's 。🕊／🕊 's 。⛪️／⛪️ 's 。🎹／🎹 's 。

⠀「⠀ Titles ﹔ The Brother in Hiding 。The Winged One 。The One in It 's Own Caged 。He Who Cannot Forgive Nor Forget It 's Past 。The One Who Seeks For Comfort Within Itself 。Thy Who Changed 。He Who Cherishes It 's Sea Angels 。The Brother In Charge 。He Who Was Once The Leader Of The Oak Family 。It Who Plays The Sadden Piano 。He Who 's Now Gone 。

{ * } — We also use this name

156 notes · View notes

ramblingsfromthytruly · 5 months ago

Text

i'm feeling much better now (i'm making another playlist)

#mithi's own #musings from thy truly #self healing #healing #shit post #idk how to tag this #stupid shit #random shit #shitposting #sillyposting #dumb shit #shitpost #silly #so silly #silly goofy mood

9 notes · View notes

epicbuddieficrecs · 5 months ago

Text

Weekly Recap | October 1st-13th 2024

Hope all my fellow Canadians had a good long weekend! Had a week from hell last week so I didn't have time to put up the rec, and it's even a bit late for today, but I did it!

If you know anyone who's not tagged, please don't hesitate to tag them in the comments!

Complete

Siri, Call... by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Sickfic | 1,5K | General): Buck is sick and needs to call for help.

for thy true-love take by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (Outsider POV, Established buddie | 2K | Teen): OR: Chimney Han and the ethics of slipping your coworkers love potions

watch out, you might get what you're after by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Getting Together | 2K | Mature): Buck unintentionally woos Eddie. And then has a hell of a time processing the way he feels about that.

i hate accidents (except when we went from friends to this) by bellabrady (Getting Together | 2K | Not Rated): Or: How Buck and Eddie's first kiss leads to someone calling the police on them.

Put To Good Use by kittyeddie (PWP, BDSM | 3K | Explicit): Or, Buck and Eddie finally have a kid-free day at home, and take advantage of every second of it

At First Scent by Inell/ @inell (Urban Fantasy AU | 4K | Teen): When Buck visits Maddie, he meets Chris, a magic user needing his sister’s help learning how to use his powers. He also meets Eddie, Christopher’s dad, and feels a connection that he’s only ever dreamed of finding.

Bears, and Foxes, and a Three-Legged Bobcat by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Pre-Buddie, First Date | 4K | General): Buck and Eddie go on a non-date date to a wildlife park. Cuteness ensues.

Just Right by Inell/ @inell (Future fic, Getting Together | 4K | Teen): After getting injured on a call, Buck wakes up the next morning and tries to piece together what happened, accidentally changing his relationship with Eddie in the process.

to adam, from your ribs by justhockey (S8, Getting Together | 4K | General): And the thing is, Buck is so good at being alone; he’s been doing it almost his whole life. But when he’s reminded of the way love tastes, drizzled like honey on your tongue - the way it feels, like the warm glow of sunlight on your skin. That is when he truly aches. Not the breaking, because he’s done that a thousand times over. It’s the knowing that really does him in. The having, for just a little while, before it’s snatched away so quickly he can still feel the burn on his fingertips from trying to hold on.

Hall Pass by Inell/ @inell (Post-S7, Getting Together | 5K | Teen): After Buck and Eddie take Jee and Mara trick or treating, Chim and Maddie play a trick of their own to help Buck finally make a move on Eddie.

it's leading me on, every time we touch by lightyears (Post-S6, Getting Together | 5K | Explicit): Eddie doesn’t think anything of it when he reaches across the table to pile some pasta onto his plate, says, “Just my back. It’s been giving me a bit of trouble.” “You’re hurt, Eddie?” Bobby asks him, and Eddie’s sure that his intention isn’t to capture the rest of the team’s attention, but by way of being Captain, it happens anyway. “I promise, Cap. I’m good. But if it helps, I can go speak with a doctor, make sure nothing else is going on.” Chim chirps up: “A physio probably makes more sense than a doctor.” “Or an occupational therapist,” Ravi suggests, and Eddie’s sure it’s to stave off a Chim-Hen showdown. “Even a massage therapist would probably help.” And then Maddie says, “Buck used to be a massage therapist” and everyone goes quiet, heads all swinging in Buck’s direction.

sweet sunbursts of flesh pink magic by Underhung_Aura/ @eddiebabygirldiaz (Canon Divergent, Witch Buck, Sex Pollen | 5K | Explicit): Buck’s magic has always been a bit volatile. Jittery. Fluctuating. A touch reckless. Messy and bright and loud. Maddie says that a person’s magic is supposed to match the person themselves, that the form it takes isn’t happenstance or random, that it’s a reflection of your purest self, an extension of your soul that you can manipulate. Safe to say, Buck’s never cared for that assessment. or, buck has magic and eddie gets doused with sex pollen

Happy Accident by Inell/ @inell (Post-S8E01: Buzzkill, Friends to Fiances | 6K | Teen): When Buck gets some good news, he accidentally kisses Eddie, which leads to a conversation that changes their relationship.

Kissing On The Corner, Wait For Just A Minute by fruitsdoesnotknow/ @tayf-ghost (Secret Relationship | 6K | Teen): Buck and Eddie think they're so smooth. They're cool, calm, collected. Normal, in fact. Just two normal best friends. Nothing to see here. Nobody is convinced.

Does it bite at your edges? by noxeratum (Infidelity, Post-S7, Getting Together | 6K | Explicit): Eddie Diaz is so repressed that he thinks his jealousy is bigotry and feels bad about it.

Talk Dirty to Me by ameliahart (Post-S7, FWB | 6K | Explicit): In which Buck has recently ended things with Tommy, Eddie wants to explore his sexuality, and they decide to start sleeping together. As friends, of course.

Through the Looking Glass by jukoist/ @beforejuko (Post-S8E01: Buzzkill, Getting Together | 6K | General): Buck likes Tommy. He does! And he definitely isn't in love with Eddie. He's just... worried. Because Eddie keeps vanishing on Sundays, leaving Buck with the boyfriend he definitely likes as much as he should. Everything is fine. Or, a post 8x01 coda.

Basics, Understanding Basics by fruitsdoesnotknow/ @tayf-ghost (Post-S7, Getting Together | 7K | Teen): Chris gets sick, loses part of his memory, and reassures Eddie and Buck they can still kiss in front of him. That's really thoughtful of him, except for the fact that Eddie and Buck aren't dating.

🔥All The Things You Want From Me by giselleslash/ @gigi-gigi (Post-S7, Getting Together | 7K | Teen): “Can I ask you something?” Eddie shrugs. “Sure.” Tommy looks nervous, unsure. Tommy never looks nervous, or unsure. “Do you think Evan would move in with me if I asked him?” (Or the one where Eddie feels Buck slipping through his fingers and can’t let him go, so he tells him not to move in with Tommy and blows everything apart.)

My Carpet’s Got Crop Circles by fruitsdoesnotknow/ @tayf-ghost (Eddie & Karen, Getting Together | 9K | Teen): Or, five times Karen tries to use wine nights to get Eddie and Buck together, and the one time she didn't need to.

🔥Late Fines by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Librarian!Buck | 12K | Teen): Buck is a children's librarian at the branch closest to Eddie's house. When he gets himself involved in the lives of a cute kid and his handsome single dad, he gets a glimpse of what he wants in life. It might just take a few years to get it.

Eddie Diaz VS The Buck's Boyfriend Agenda by songbvrd/ @songbvrd (Post-S7, BuckTommy Break-Up | 23K | Mature): Eddie starts gathering information about why no one trusts Tommy. As he grows to hate their relationship more, he learns more about himself and what he wants.

🔥 ice cream before dinner by cloudydaisies (Post-S7, Getting Together | 58K | Teen): or, gerrard messes with the team's schedules and eddie 'i just drove my son to flee the state' diaz is the only option to watch mara and jee-yun after school on tuesdays, which, shouldn't be a problem at all, right?

🔥 Any Other Way by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, S2 | 102K | Mature): In a switcheroo alternate universe, Buck spends young adulthood in the military, while Eddie, who has no idea Christopher exists, spends his twenties messing around, finally enjoying freedom away from his family’s expectations. When they both end up in Los Angeles, at the 118, some things are different, and others will be the same in any universe.

WIP

Gentle On My Mind by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Shannon Lives, Buck/Eddie/Shannon | 5/? | 32K | Explicit): In which Shannon lives, tells a lie, and sends hers, Eddie's, and Buck's lives down a very different path.

🔥 go and kill, go and die by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Zombie Apocalypse AU | 9/14 | 40K | Mature): The 118 are a group of survivors in a small California town in the wake of a zombie apocalypse. For months they've been isolated and safe. But the arrival of some new players, the search for some missing loved ones, will shake everything up and put their little team in jeopardy.

Podfic

[Podfic] déjà vu by NC Pods (N0Connections)/ @n0connections // fic by peaktotheocean/ @peaktotheocean (S7E07: Ghost of a Second Chance | 10-20min | General): It is completely possible that Buck put too much thought into buying his couch. But Eddie can’t think of anyone else in his life who would buy a couch just so his kid would be comfortable.

🔥 [Podfic] With a Little Help From my Friends by MeggieJolly/ @meggiejolly // fic by extasiswings/ @extasiswings (Post-S3, Feelings Realization | 10-20min | Teen): “You know…several of us parents get together once, maybe twice a month or so. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like. I can add you to the email chain.” Not for the first time that day, Eddie’s surprised. It’s not that he’s opposed, more that the invitation is unexpected. He’s not particularly social—when he is it’s with the team or with Buck or with his family, all of them in each other’s houses, in each other’s lives both at work and away from it. Outside of them… It occurs to him that he’s never really known how to make friends. [Or: Eddie makes friends outside of work and realizes that Buck might not, in fact, be just a friend]

🔥 as lucky as us [Podfic] by blackglass/ @blackestglass // fic by hammersmiths/ @henswilsons (Ravi POV, S7 | 20-30min | General): One of the first things Ravi learned when joining the 118 was to, under no circumstances, think too hard about Buck and Eddie’s relationship. But brother, they could try make his job easier. “I mean, I get it,” Buck’s saying, overhead, and Ravi’s knee-deep in literal human crap and even he can smell that shit from a mile away. “You and Tommy have a lot in common.” or, Ravi continually suffers as a third-wheel.

🔥 [podfic] baby, can i hold you? by All_I_Ask/ @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove // fic by fleetinghearts / @shitouttabuck (pre-Buddie, angst/comfort | 30-45min | Teen): Eddie’s eyes are squeezed shut, and Buck feels something inside him crack when this helpless, devastated sob wracks his body, eyelashes clumped with tears he’s not letting fall. “What do you need?” Buck asks again. “What can I do?” Eddie makes a frustrated noise. “I don’t know. I don’t know why this won’t stop.” or, eddie panics. buck holds him.

🔥 Heart, I Implore You [Podfic] by ReformedTsunderePodfics (ReformedTsundere)/ @film-in-my-soul // fic by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Vampire Eddie, PWP | 45-60min | Explicit): When Buck finds out his best friend isn't exactly human, he volunteers to help keep Eddie from dying. It's definitely just to keep Eddie from dying. No other reason. None whatsoever.

Re-Read

Down to the Bones of Me by giselleslash/ @gigi-gigi (Post-S7E10: All Fall Down | 5K | Teen): The morning after Christopher leaves Eddie gets in his truck and drives. Buck lets him go, and Eddie fights to come back for both of them.

#epic buddie fic rec #buddie fanfiction #buddie fic #buddie fanfic #buddie fic rec #buddie podfic

152 notes · View notes

cowboyemeritus · 5 months ago

Text

Day 9

Prompt: Voice Kink

Pairing: Copia/Reader

Tags: also pretty self explanatory

Notes: this one's pretty mild - just lovin' on copia after a show, with a little twist

“Spectacular as always, dear.” Copia gives you an appreciative nod as he crosses the threshold of the dressing room and flops himself down on the couch next to you, clearly exhausted. You’ll have to start getting packed up soon, but for now he deserves a moment to decompress.

“Grazie.” He cringes at the scratchiness in his voice, already so severe just minutes after taking his final bow. You perk up a little at the sound. It stirs something inside you can’t quite place. All you know is that you’re intrigued by it.

“Rest day tomorrow,” you point out. It’s actually a travel day, but what you really mean is the he won’t have to exert himself like he does on stage. That’s the closest thing he gets to a rest while on tour, anyway. Poor thing; being a rockstar is hard work.

Copia nods. You can see he’s looking over at the vanity, where a bag of lozenges is resting against a tumbler of water. He’s got an expectant look in his eyes, silently begging you to have mercy and not make him get up just yet. You oblige, rising to your feet to retrieve the provisions. If he wants them, however, he’ll have to humor you first.

“Are we stopping anywhere? Phantom’s obsessed with the idea of seeing the World’s Largest… Anything.” He just shrugs. Bruh. “Or we could cuddle up and watch a movie. Anything in particular you’ve been wanting to see?” You’re careful to ask an open-ended question this time.

“I will have to think about it.” You must be making some sort of face because he raises an eyebrow. “You are giving me the bedroom eyes, amore.”

“What?” You pump as much fake surprise as you can muster into it. “No. I’m just talking to my Papa.” Putting the pieces together, Copia laughs through his nose.

“This?” He asks, a hand coming to his throat. “Really? I need to be resting.” You give him a sly smile, kicking the ground a little. Your hand worms its way into the bag of lozenges, grabbing a small handful.

“I know, but…” You giggle. “I don’t know! It’s sexy. Like how you sound after we fuck all night.” You pause, grabbing the tumbler. “There’s another idea for tomorrow.” The memory of your last marathon, a last hurrah before months on the cramped tour bus, appears in your mind’s eye, setting off a pounding between your legs. Returning to the couch, you hand Copia his water, but elect to withhold the lozenges for now. He looks so tired, probably too tired for your games, but if he has one mortal weakness, it’s you. He takes a sip, letting his head fall back against the couch. With a relived groan he swallows, the life-giving water helping revive him just a little.

“You can turn even the most innocent conversation into something dirty, mia diavoletta.” He spies the medicinal candies still clasped in your hand and gives you a look. It’s not quite pleading, more of a firm request.

“It’s not my fault. You could read out of Leviticus and it would be hot right now.” Copia chuckles.

“Oh yeah?” The expression on his face says get a load of this. “Thou shalt rise up before the hoary head and honor the face of the old man, and fear thy God.” Sitting up, he reaches for your hand, hoping to snatch up the lozenges, but you’re too quick, whipping it behind your back.

“I’ll honor you all you want,” you say, kneeling between his parted legs. Your free hand finds his perfectly-sculpted thigh, giving the firm muscle a squeeze. Copia grunts, already half-hard. “Just keep talking.”

#my writing #the band ghost #the band ghost x reader #the band ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus iv x reader #copia x reader #the verse he quotes is Lev 19:32 btw #i have thoughts about why he can quote leviticus by heart... you should ask me about them

76 notes · View notes

prophecyofwinter · 6 months ago

Text

Se Riña Qilōni Iprattan Se Jēdar | VI

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary | Saera Targaryen daughter of Jaehaerys I ran away from Westeros to escape her fate. 45 years later her daughter Y/N Targaryen, with invitation from King Viserys wishes to go back.

Tags | Angst, Slowburn (Hot&Cold), TargCest, Smut, Standard ASOIAF content, Aemond and Reader are First Cousins Once Removed, Reader is Self-serving, Terrible Sibling Dynamics, Fluff tags to be added

Special warnings | Violence against women, Incel-like behavior, descriptions of injuries

Word Count: 3.6k

Author Notes | I have put up a poll to get readers feel for a certain story direction, please give it a quick vote! Poll here

Prologue | Chapter V | | Chapter VII Masterlist

Chapter VI | Love Thy Sister

“What do you think of her?” Alicent asks her son, looking up at him from her cushioned seat. Alicent hoped by telling Aemond to take the girl for a walk she’d feel welcome enough for the time being. Even though she is legitimized as a Targaryen, she can leave at any time. If she does not feel welcome, she may take herself and her titles back to Volantis. Back to the whore house her mother is from and disgrace the Targaryen name just as her mother did, and the blame would be put on Alicent.

“I suppose she is a good conversationalist… as beautiful as they say her mother is.” Aemond looks down at her, he rubs his hand along his jaw. Aemond knows his duty that was forced upon him, Alicent does not doubt this.

However, she has influenced him to have a greater distaste for bastards. Of course, she doesn’t expect nor want Aemond to put his biases to the side, but for the safety of the Targaryen name he must learn to push it down for her.

“Continue to keep her happy, if you wander-“

“I am not Aegon if that’s what you are implying.” Aemond interrupts her with one of his quips. Alicent rubs her temples with a sigh, in her mind she knows Aemond would never do such a thing, but you can never be fully sure with young men. Aemond places his hand on Alicents shoulder, bringing her out of thought and she looks back up at her son.

“She knows what she is and I can deal with that.”

—————

The sun has sunk below the horizon and you stand with your hands gripping the stone of your balcony. The light breeze pushes your loose hair to the side, tickling your cheeks.

The past 5 days have been repeating each other, waking up, fitting into tight clothes that you still can’t get used to, breaking your fast alone, taking brisk walks through the gardens; you’ve taken to needlework to fill up your time, still not good at it. Ending your days eating dinner with Vaegon, he insists on sitting next to you instead of on the other side of the table, you’ve gotten tired of telling him otherwise.

Your only real interactions have been with Aegon, he manages to find you in the gardens every day. It has become routine at this point. Small conversations where he stands a little too close and rests his hand on your lower back. Your brother was fuming behind the two of you, but alas there was nothing he could do.

Perhaps Aegon simply got a kick out of your brother's reaction; in that case, you don’t mind at all.

Aemond hadn't bothered to even acknowledge your existence. You haven't seen him, heard him, smelled him, tasted him, touched him. All your senses are absent of him!

Your head had been so full of ideal situations, that you didn’t consider living an isolated life in a foreign land! You had to push down girlish thoughts and take charge for yourself!

“Are you done with your childish games sister?”

You were knocked out of your thoughts by Vaegon resting his armor-covered hands on the back of your shoulders. You tensed up at the contact, your stomach instantly became uneasy.

“Your fantasies didn’t work out. No prince to whisk you off your feet as we pretended when we were children. Only a maimed icy boy who doesn’t love you.” He begins to gently massage your shoulders. Disgust rises on your face with your fists so tight your nails may draw blood.

“And you do?” You do not turn to look at him, simply at the night sky.

“More than that freak could.” He laughs resting his chin on your shoulders and moves his hands to caress your arms. This pushed you far over the line. You turned around and pushed him back with full force, it didn’t do much but push him a foot back. Frustrated at this failed attempt you slap him making sure to claw his skin with your nails.

You hadn’t meant to dig that deep. Vaegons scream was in true carnal pain, he held his cheek with blood flowing from between his fingers. You had scarred him from cheekbone to chin. You looked down to your hand and you could see the skin you tore off beneath your nails. You looked back at him in shock, your mouth went dry as you couldn’t think of any words to say.

“You fucking cunt!”

You saw your brother's eyes turn from purple to black as he ran to grip your neck with both hands, knocking the wind out of you. He was crushing your throat and his hand armor was cutting deeply.

“Va-vaegon plea-“ you begin to claw at his hands as you choke out words.

“I will not come second to some pompous cunt! I have worked all my life to prove myself worthy of you! Yet you whore yourself out to the first cock that fills your self serving cunt.” He shook you around with gritted teeth, not seeming to care about the sting and blood from his cheek. “You stand there and mock me in the gardens and let that whore of a Prince touch you, am I the only one you won’t fuck?!”

Black spots started to form in your vision, he was trying to strangle you to death, and you could see it in his eyes.

You whisper something weakly enough that he cannot make out. He leans in hopes of hearing words of submission to feed his sick fantasies.

You gargle up the saliva that you cannot swallow and spit directly into his ear. He instantly jumps back and pushes you away. He falls on his ass getting away from you. You erupt in laughter even when your spine makes contact with the stone balcony you laugh through the pain.

Vaegon is at a loss for words, tears start to form and threaten to fall down his face. Humiliation is all over his face, you have permanently scarred his face. Maimed him as he laughed at Aemond for being. This scar was not gained honorably, not in a battle, not because he was punished, not from protecting a damsel in distress. He gained nothing from it.

He let a woman, his sister, swipe him so brutally. It made him even less of a man in the eyes of everyone.

No mother to comfort him, not even a whore to console him, the only person he had was his sister who was looking down on him.

Laughing at him.

Your laughter died down, small giggles escaping your lips still. The lack of air to your head and raw adrenaline diluted the pain you should be feeling at the moment. You walked over to your brother, looking down at him as he looked down at you moments ago with his hands on your throat.

“I am greater than you now brother, you are still a bastard. I could have you hung and spiked on the walls. However, it breaks my heart to see you like this.” You say softly with a joking tone. Vaegon continues looking up at you with a rage behind his eyes.

“If it would serve as compensation. You can have the privilege of standing guard at mine and Prince Aemonds marital chambers on our wedding night. As a parting gift.”

Vaegon instantly stands on his feet and scoffs with a baffled expression. Suddenly, the weight of his crimes against a noble hit him hard, and he rushed out of the room to escape to who knows where.

You stood there for a few moments, absorbing your grand victory. You didn’t care where he ran, who he ran to, what he was going to do after running. Your breath was heavy and your lungs began to feel like they were struggling to take air in.

Just as your adrenaline calmed down it rose back up with anxiety. You rushed over to your mirror and looked at your neck to see bruises already forming and where his armor had cut your neck. How could you explain this? Someone will see your bruises and see Vaegons cheek and put it together.

You hadn’t noticed the tears running down your face until you looked in the mirror, you looked in disarray.

The pain started to shock through your body, finally registering the violence Vaegon put onto you.

Your throat felt like it was closing up, the pressure from your corset made the rising bruise on your lower back hurt so badly you feared you might empty your stomach on the floor.

You saw the blood trail on the floor and your eyes moved over to the balcony and there was a small pool of blood in plain sight. You looked around your chambers for anything to clean it up. You froze by the sound of knocking at your door followed by your door opening.

You hear the sound of crashing and liquid splashing on the floor. Someone rushed to your side who you recognized to be Mela. She knelt by your sitting form and held your arms gently.

“Princess! What happened?! Who hurt you?!” Mela attempted to talk calmly but the urgency of the moment raised her tone.

You don’t know what happened, all of a sudden everything came crashing down onto you. You were crying so hard you couldn’t form any words, your throat and neck hurt even worse with all your heavy breathing. Stuttering out incoherent and unfinished sentences with hand gestures that meant nothing.

Mela stood and held you close to your chest like a mother would, and you held onto her arms and cried. She yelled something at Ellyn and the girl rushed out of the room, the door left wide open potentially for anyone to see. The pain of being manhandled by Vaegon started seeping in and all of a sudden your whole body started hurting, you couldn’t tell where it was coming from; you only knew it hurt.

“Shhhh, Let me see Princess.”

Mela lifted your chin and gasped at the state of your neck. She lightly touched one of the fresh bruises, even the lightest touch made you whimper and flinch away. You couldn’t breathe without pain shocking through your body which made you cry more so tears never stopped streaming down your face.

A barrage of footsteps approaches the open door to see Mela holding your sobbing body. Immediately a maester is by your side, gently pushing Mela away to see your injuries. You close your eyes to think the pain away, and a few gasps follow when your neck becomes exposed.

“Gods be good, who did this Princess?” The Maester touched around your neck to examine the damage. You couldn’t think, the feeling of eyes on you, the pain in your neck, the pain in your lower back tightened by a corset.

You claw at the back of your dress just wanting to tear it off. Mela stops your hands to pull you onto your feet, your groans of pain don’t stop her at all. Ellyn moves behind you to loosen the layers of your dress. You let out a deep sigh of relief when your corset is removed and your body almost fully collapses into Mela.

Your lower back is revealed with the removal of the corset and you hear gasps of sympathy from the other maids in the room. Mela has you against her in a way that your breasts aren’t revealed to keep some form of modesty, even if it’s just maids and a maester.

“Gods… what has happened here?!” Alicents voice sounded through the room, her voice painted with concern.

“I’m not sure my Queen, she’s in too much pain. She won't speak.” The Maester said without turning to Alicent still looking around at the newly discovered bruise. The Maester leaves the room to hopefully get some kind of ointment or cream to soothe you.

You looked up at Alicent and she looked down at you, biting at the skin of her thumb.

The small part of you that isn’t in pain feels humiliated, this was your triumphant moment over your brother. But here you are, crying so hard you can’t speak, naked from the waist up, multiple people gawking at your injured limp body. You can barely even listen to the people around you, blood is pumping through your ears.

A nightgown comes over your head and you move your arms slowly to fill the armholes. By the feeling of the fabric you can tell it’s not one from Westeros, it’s one of your own from Volantis. With these, your back could remain open instead of being rubbed with cloth. You watch Alicent move her hand to caress your hair gently, looking at you with an expression you can’t make out. Sympathy? Pity?

Alicent leans down and murmurs something to you.

“Was this Aemond?”

You shake your head no and the queen lets out a sigh of relief and does one wipe of your cheek with her thumb. You made an earnest attempt to squeeze out any sound through your tightening throat.

“Vaegon-“ you pointed to the blood near the balcony, the hand you pointed with still had his blood and skin on your fingers.

“Where is her brother? Find him!” Alicents voice rises to yell at the guards nearby. She leaves the room with haste to go off to who knows where.

You are guided onto a couch deeper into your chambers to allow room for a maid with water and cloth to gently dab your neck. You try your best to contain your whimpers to not humiliate yourself further. Another maid grabs your hand with a wet cloth and cleans the hand you scarred Vaegon with.

After some time the Maester reentered the room with a jar of some kind of ointment. You hope the cream provides some instant comfort, anything to relieve your aches. Tears still streaked down your face, the pain still ever persistent, but you held your whimpers down still.

“Alright Princess, I’ve retrieved an ointment made of arnica. It should help with the aches and inflammation.” The Maester hands the ointment to Ellyn, she quickly replaces the maid behind you. You move your hair away to expose your neck.

Everyone besides Ellyn begins to make their leave to give you privacy now that their duty is done. You close your eyes and let out a sigh of relief when Ellyn starts to gently rub the bruised area on the back of your neck. However your eyes don’t stay closed for long; as the door opens for everyone to make their leave, a soft ‘My Prince’ in unison makes your eyes instantly open.

Aemond enters the room with long strides, passing by servants without care. He was wearing his normal black leather, eyepatch, and sword still at his side. Ellyn stopped applying the ointment to stand up, and give a small bow to Aemond with a customary ‘my Prince’.

“Mm. Give it here.” Aemond holds out his hand to be given the ointment. He scans the room to see the blood has not yet been cleaned up.

“Clean that up and make your leave.” He hums, Ellyn quickly hands him the jar and grabs a cloth.

“Aemond...” You whisper to not force your voice. You jump at the feeling of Aemonds ungloved fingers applying ointment to the back of your neck. Aemonds touch struggles to be gentle, his hands are roughly textured, and you can tell he hasn’t had to be gentle with much before.

“I caught him.” He said in a normal tone. You look to the side, your eye area red and cheeks still wet from your never-ending crying. A look of confusion grazed your face under your pained expression.

“I walk in the gardens at night. I heard him yelling, I saw him push you. I figured he would run.” Aemonds fingers moved to the side of your neck that was exposed to him.

“Do not take it as much. A bastard boy attacked a…Targaryen. A high crime, it was simply duty.” He talks like he doesn’t care, truly unreadable... Almost like the hardened guards that are on duty in front of the black wall in Volantis, but not quite that extreme.

But here he sits, doing his best to gently rub in ointment into the bruised necklace painted into your skin. You can’t help but give him a slight smile, Aemonds eye flickers up and moves right back down.

Without being able to speak more than a word or two, you and Aemond sit in silence. Even when he turns you around to get the front of your throat.

You got the opportunity to look at his face closer than you ever had. Your eyes traced his red scar, your sight stopped by his eyepatch but it continued below; on down to his sharp strong nose which huffed out deep breaths occasionally; to his pink lips, straightened in focus. Of course, his most important features to you, his one good eye, a beautiful shade of purple, pointed down looking at your neck and ever so often flicked further down when he needed to get more from the jar. His platinum white hair was tucked behind his ears so he didn’t get any in his face while leaning down.

This wouldn’t last. You knew that. Soon he would remember reality and pull back once again.

“Turn back around, I have to get your back.”

Your view of Aemond is torn away by his hands twirling you back around. He makes a ‘mmm’ sound and rubs the excess on his fingers on the middle of your open back. Leaving you rather confused until he speaks.

“Your lower back is covered by your nightgown. I have to pull it down.”

You jump a little at the idea of being almost fully naked in front of him, even though the sheer fabric of your nightgown left nothing to the imagination and left most of your skin open to the air. It’s the implication of it all.

“Gods, Calm down. I will only be seeing your back, nothing I won’t see soon enough.”

Aemond pulls at the sleeves of your nightgown and slides it down as low as it can go as you are sitting down. Even though he is behind you and can’t see your breasts you feel the need to cover them with your arms, but you resist.

Aemond starts to apply ointment once again, he presses a little too hard and a gasp gets caught in your throat, and flinch away. Aemond grasps your hips to still you and bring you back.

“I’m sorry. Let me try again.”

You nod and hope that he’s more gentle this time. This bruise was a single large long bruise straight across your lower back so it made it harder to comfortably touch it at all. He was as gentle as he could be, it would hurt regardless.

You had to make it through the pain yourself. Focusing on making the pain go away in your head. The first thought that came to your head was how intimate this position felt compared to the others. The lower back felt like one of the more intimate locations to touch between two people. Yes, Aegon touches you there occasionally but you only allowed that because you knew Vaegon was looking.

Aemond doing it felt different. Even if it was just him helping you. His touch brought pain with it but it still somehow got a shiver up your spine that was pleasant in its own way.

He applied the ointment rather quickly, you snapped out of your thoughts when he began to bring your nightgown back up your body and you slipped your arms through the strapped sleeves.

“You should sleep soon, you will heal faster,” Aemond spoke, rubbing your arms from the back. You froze when you felt his breath on the back of where your neck met your shoulder. Your heart starts beating fast as you can almost feel his lips disrupt the peach fuzz on your skin.

Suddenly seconds later Aemond abruptly pulls away physically and emotionally, just as he did before. He stands and briskly walks to your chamber door, on his way he taps onto a table to put your attention to a goblet and pitcher.

“Should aid with sleep.”

You didn’t even get a chance to process anything. You swore you still felt his touch on your skin, it made you shiver. Aemond shut the door all but gently, leaving you alone with yourself. You sighed at the loss of touch and Aemond ran off once again.

You wouldn’t see Aemond for a few days once again.

You pushed yourself up onto your feet with a sharp pain. The ointment helped but it didn’t help with sudden movements. You hobbled over to the table Aemond gestured to. You studied it briefly before pouring the substance into the goblet. It was a cloudy blue color, you weren’t sure what to make of it. You reluctantly took a sip, your body wanted to reject it instantly. It tasted extremely bitter with an undertone of honey. It must’ve been put there for a reason so you at least finish the cup.

Not being able to drink anymore you blow out the bigger lights in your chambers, leaving the smaller ones still lit. You started to feel drowsy, deciding to commit to lying down. Getting under the covers trying to get comfortable, you decided it was too hot under them and pushed them to the side to only cover part of your body. You found a single position that didn’t put extreme pressure on your bruises and instantly fell to sleep.

—————

🏷️: @toodlesxcuddles @yourwonkywriter @blackgirlmagicforever @knyam

comment or send an ask to be on the tag list!

#aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #house of the dragon #Spotify

64 notes · View notes