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slothquisitor · 2 months ago

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Invisible String: Chapter Four

A Baldur’s Gate III Modern AU.

Chapter Summary: In which both Liv and Astarion learn something new about each other. And I make my case that Gale would love Kafka.

Read from the beginning.

Read on AO3.

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It’s a beautiful day in Baldur’s Gate, and Astarion hates it. The autumn sunshine is out in full force, and the leaves are just beginning to turn. Summer wears on him, the long sun-filled days a constant reminder of everything he’s lost and can’t have. Winter is easier. Not only does he prefer the fashion of a good winter coat, the days are much shorter and darker, it’s almost easier to pretend he’s not a vampire spawn.

But they’re not there yet, so he spends the daylight hours pacing the empty apartment and wishing Liv was here to provide some measure of entertainment. He’s not sure when he went from avoiding her to looking forward to her being home, but it happened sometime between morning chats and movie night.

Books>People has been largely quiet today, and he finds he misses that too. He can’t quite be productive because he keeps checking his phone, willing a message to come through. He’s ‘working’ when one finally does, though today that seems to involve more mindless scrolling of Chirper than actual work.

Books>People: Is there a point where one ever gets used to seeing a man passed out over a trash bag full of spaghetti on the evening commute?

FangtasticLover: Is there a point where you want to be the type of person used to seeing a man passed out over a trash bag full of spaghetti on the evening commute?

Books>People: Is that the Baldur’s Gate sanity test?

FangtasticLover: Yes, that and knowing that you never go to Wyrm’s Crossing on a summer Saturday.

Books>People: Good to know. I learn things about this new city of mine every day.

FangtasticLover: Wait, you’re new to the city?

There’s a pause then at his question. There is some sort of unspoken agreement between them, they don’t ask identifying questions. They are happy to banter and tease each other, but they don’t delve deeper than that. He likes it that way. He likes that she wants to know his opinion on movies and books and that she wants to know if he’s having a good day or not. It’s all surface level, all comfortable. There’s a reason he cuts these connections off before it can turn into anything more.

Books>People: I thought my surprise at subway spaghetti man revealed that.

FangtasticLover: It didn’t. How do you like it?

Books>People: I still feel like I’m learning it, but I love the way it feels almost alive all the time. The bells ringing in Old Town are my favorite. Do you like living here?

FangtasticLover: I’ve never really lived anywhere else.

Books>People: A true local! You’ll have to teach me your Baldurian ways.

FangtasticLover: Ugh. First, you want my gold-digging techniques and now you want me to show you the local customs?

Books>People: And I better still be getting all your mind flayer erotica recommendations too.

He smiles at the joke from their first conversation. She does that a lot, these little things she refers back to that already feel like theirs. It makes him want to pay attention to follow these invisible strings weaving between them. Perhaps that’s why he is so lost when he cuts someone off on the app, the severing of those fragile threads must be like a wound. But he’s good at surviving those.

FangtasticLover: Where’s your favorite place in the city so far?

Books>People: There are a few good places, but that one pedestrian bridge just south of the Wide is pretty spectacular. I was there today with a friend.

FangtasticLover: I know the place. Great views. But you have friends beyond me? I’m hurt.

Books>People: Oh is that what we are? Friends? I thought of you more as my gold-digging-dating-app-pocket-comrade.

FangtasticLover: That’s a lot of words for friend, but sure, if that’s how you want to talk about me to other people.

Books>People: Awfully presumptuous to assume that I talk about you to other people.

FangtasticLover: *Did* you tell your friend about me?

Books>People: Maybe. Would you prefer I didn’t?

Astarion smiles. She definitely told her friend about him. There’s something about knowing she might have that lights up something within his chest. She doesn’t even know his name, and he doesn’t know hers either but the idea that she might be telling someone about their conversations makes it all more real somehow. He’s not sure how he feels about that, how he should feel about that.

FangtasticLover: I don’t mind at all. Just nice to know I’m being thought of even when we’re not messaging.

Books>People: At least every now and again, pocket comrade.

Later that night, when his nighttime wanderings take him across the city he knows so well, he finds himself on that bridge. The lights of Baldur’s Gate twinkle in the night, brighter than any stars. He snaps a picture on his phone of the skyline, and sends it to Books>People without a second thought. No comment, just the picture.

Books>People: Wow, it’s even better at night. Were you just passing through or did you go all the way there to think of me?

FangtasticLover: Why not both?

This is why he likes the Weave. The way it collapses the distance between him and other people, but always within his control. He likes that he stands here on this bridge in the same place she was earlier today. He wonders what other spaces they’ve shared, knowing even now, he wouldn’t be able to pick her out of a crowd.

Sometimes, he worries that he only likes people in the abstract. More in love with the distance than any connection he could make. He feels made up of only jagged edges that will never quite fit without wounding. He’s sure he wasn’t always like this, but years upon years of abuse and violence drown out the other memories. There is the before and the after, but the before feels slick, like trying to grasp at water. Now he’s just a jumble of memories and an after that he can’t quite navigate.

Books>People: Where’s your favorite place in the city?

He doesn’t respond, not yet. Instead, he leaves the bridge and jumps on the train, riding it to the oldest part of Baldur’s Gate where the university crouches, its spires lit up against the dark navy of the sky. As he walks the empty cobblestone paths, he is filled with a certain wistfulness. This is the only place in the city that feels untouched by the passage of time. It’s the only place he thinks he might be able to forget the years spent beneath Cazador’s thumb. He snaps a picture of his favorite building, the large domed library beside the tall tower of the nearby tabernacle. The photo makes the stone buildings look more buttery orange than they are, but the sky is darker too, and it’s like the buildings are aglow. He sends it off. Her response is immediate.

Books>People: That is coincidentally my other favorite place in the city.

FangtasticLover: Oh?

Books>People: Well, it is a library.

***

It begins with him. With his pictures that night, and it’s like he’s crossed an invisible threshold of their relationship, and now they send little pieces of themselves back and forth across their days. Small things: a coffee order or the cover of a book. But to Liv, it feels like a window. He feels more real now like showing the city back to her has sharpened his outline. She looks for him everywhere now as if she might find him in a crowd.

But she doesn’t bring up meeting. There’s a comfortability to this, to the way they spend their days messaging. She is grateful for this connection, for having someone she feels like she can talk to, even if it is mostly meaningless. She worries about breaking the spell, at pushing whatever this is along too quickly toward their inevitable demise. And it will be a demise, that much she is sure of.

And yet, with every message from him that comes through, she hopes a little bit harder. For what exactly, she’s still not sure.

When she gets home from work on Wednesday afternoon, she’s surprised to find Astarion working in the living room. She catches a glance at his laptop screen while she deposits her bag in her room only to find the man has a truly ungodly number of tabs open on his computer.

“Everything alright?” she asks, stepping back out into the kitchen.

He sighs. “I’m trying to capitalize on a particularly viral meme while one of the stupidest patriars in the city held a press conference dressed in a suit that looks like it came from his grandmother’s attic. And not in the nice antique way…literally it looks like it was made for a woman thirty…fifty years ago…?”

Liv sinks down on the other end of the couch. “Is it like a marketing thing to capitalize on a meme?”

Astarion looks up at her from the glow of his laptop with confused disdain. “Marketing?”

“That’s what Gale said you did?” Liv says, suddenly mistrusting her memory of that initial conversation about Astaron. She feels like a bit of an asshole now because he’s mentioned working but hasn’t talked about it much if at all, but she’s talked about her job plenty. She’s lived with him for almost two weeks now, and is it really possible she doesn’t know anything about his fucking job?

Astarion’s answering laugh is high-pitched and delighted. “Karlach would tell people I’m ‘in marketing’. I owe her a drink.”

Liv has seen enough of Astarion not to be overly concerned that whatever he does will be a deal-breaker, but she is wondering if it’s strictly legal at this point. “Okay, so what do you do then?”

“Oh, I’m the GlamReaper, darling,” he says with a slight giggle bubbling out of him.

It takes her a moment to remember why that would be familiar to her. Then it dawns on her. “The guy who roasts badly dressed men on Chirper?”

He grins. “You’ve heard of me.”

“Yeah, you’re pretty popular on the internet…this isn’t information you typically lead with? It seems like a tidbit you’d be sharing with most people you meet,” Liv replies. Astarion loves attention, that much she’s figured out in the past two weeks.

He clicks his tongue. “Judgy.”

It’s her turn to sigh. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like such a bad thing…you’d just think that you’d want people to know that about you.”

Astarion shrugs. “Anonymity is part of the job; it’s why it works.”

“Don’t you have like a million followers?”

“1.2, but who’s counting? And nearly half of them have tagged me in a video of this ridiculous patriar so my notifications are a mess.”

Liv considers what it might be like to have over a million people choosing to listen to what you might say at any given moment. “How do you manage to post anything knowing that many people will see it?”

“Easily,” Astarion says, pushing publish on his post to prove it. “There’s money involved, after all.”

“That’s…wild to me. Do you like it?”

He considers that, seemingly surprised at her question. “I’m quite good at it, so…yes. But I do like other aspects of my job a bit more. The virtual closet consulting is a bit more fun these days, actually.”

“Well, I live with the GlamReaper, who’d have thought?”

He pushes the laptop away and twists in his seat so that they’re facing each other properly. “It is something I’d prefer you not broadcast though.”

She rests her elbow on the back of the couch, propping her head on her hand. “Your secret is safe with me.” She means it.

He looks like he believes her. “I…appreciate that.”

She scrubs a hand down her face. “I feel like an asshole for not knowing your job when I’ve told you at length about mine.”

“Are you looking to make it up to me?” He leans in toward her, flashing a grin that tells her he’s not truly bothered but willing to take advantage of it anyway.

This close she can see the ruby red of his eyes and the fine lines in the corners. She’s not entirely sure of his age, but he feels older than her and probably has an enviable skin care routine. “That entirely depends on what you want.”

He taps his chin exaggeratedly in mock seriousness. “How about we just settle on a future favor?”

“That feels ominous,” she replies. But she knows she’s going to agree because he’s her roommate, and of course she’d do him a favor any time. Assholery or not. “But sure. A future favor it is.”

“Excellent. How were the books today?”

Liv smiles. “As always, better than people.” He looks a bit confused at her statement, so she presses on. “The library is looking for a new exhibit for the spring, and I’m thinking of writing a proposal for it.”

“About?”

“I want to do something to show off the archives and all of the cool and rare things we have there, but also something that would be interesting to library patrons. I was thinking of an exhibit on the editing process. We have some really rare manuscripts and unpublished works marked up by the authors.”

He considers that for a moment. “That does sound marginally interesting.”

She sighs. “It will need to be more than marginally interesting to win out. I’m pretty sure Gale has a true winner with his idea for a Kafka exhibit. He wants to bring in actual bugs.”

“Kafka? Really?”

Liv shrugs. “Gale loves him.”

“I have only ever heard about Gale from Karlach, but he would.”

Liv laughs. “Kafka did want his work burned after his death rather than actually shared with the world, but after he died, his literary executor still published it. There’s an interesting moral quandary to explore there.”

“If you say so,” Astarion replies. “Your idea sounds more interesting than that.” The way he says it, voice dropped lower, filled with a certainty she doesn’t quite feel in herself makes her cheeks warm.

Suddenly, it’s hard to look at him, and she looks down instead at the stretch of couch between them. “Thanks.”

***

Astarion is enjoying a rare evening home, alone. According to the shared calendar he still hasn’t bothered adding anything to, Liv is at dinner with her library coworkers in what sounds like the most boring dinner party imaginable. He’d been looking forward to having the apartment to himself for the evening. He and Liv have been spending most evenings together watching Crown of Shadows , and while enjoyable, sometimes it’s nice to be able to just be alone at night drinking blood without worrying about an audience.

Books>People hasn’t messaged him back in over an hour, so he half watches, half scrolls his phone while a movie he pressed play on and then promptly forgot the name of drones in the background.

He’s surprised at how empty the apartment feels without Liv in it. She’s only been here about two weeks, but already her presence has become a sort of fixture of the place. He likes having her around. She’s easy to be around, and seems happy, if a bit bemused, to give him her undivided attention whenever he asks for it. Beyond her work though, he knows so very little about her. But she’s not home, and her room is open, and well, he could just poke around a little bit. Couldn’t he?

She’d never know.

He doesn’t bother stopping the movie as he pockets his phone and approaches the darkened threshold of her room. From the light of the kitchen, he can see her neatly made bed with no less than three blankets draped over the duvet. She’s a rather tidy person, he’s gathered, and her room doesn’t look anything like his often cluttered, strewn about one.

It’s bad form to go into her room and through her things, and he knows he’d be furious if she did the same to him, but the thought doesn’t stop him. He steps forward full of confidence and curiosity, and headlong into….well something quite solid.

He can’t enter her room.

He presses his hands up against the invisible barrier blocking him, full of confusion. “But I own the entire apartment!” He exclaims this to the empty air, not sure who exactly he’s talking to.

He petulantly kicks the barrier, which does nothing beyond earning him a sore foot before returning to the couch and his movie. Well, it seems that he won’t be unrepentantly going through Liv’s things until she invites him into her room. That ought to be easy enough to orchestrate. He’s ignoring his movie while thinking through how to make that happen when his phone finally pings.

Books>People: What movie did you settle on? Sorry for the delay, was out to dinner with some coworkers.

He stares at her message for several moments. That’s odd…Liv is out to dinner with coworkers tonight too. Oh fucking hells. No, no, no, no, no. This can’t possibly be happening. It must be a coincidence. He fires off a text immediately.

FangtasticLover: I’m unsure if I should offer encouragement or condolences. I guess that depends entirely on what you and your coworkers do.

She told him she worked for the university once…and…and now he remembers what Liv had said earlier…about liking books more than people. No. This isn’t happening. But no response arrives…for several whole minutes.

Books>People: I think most people would assume that a dinner with a group of archivists would be boring, but we made do.

He reads the message through at least three times before tossing his phone on the couch and jumping up and away from it as if it’s a snake poised to strike. He begins pacing the room, mind filtering through possibilities. Perhaps it’s not Liv…maybe it’s just someone she works with. Oh hells, it’s not Lae’zel is it? She had been in the apartment once, so the app might have clocked their proximity. For all he knows Liv doesn’t even use the app. But Books>People had said she was new to the city.

Oh gods. Oh gods. This is bad .

Or is it? He’ll just sever the connection, go about his life and never tell her a damn thing. It’s fine. It’s absolutely fine. Nothing needs to change here and he gets to keep his roommate and not make things weird. It’s a win-win.

It hasn’t even been two weeks since he matched with her, but the thought of cutting that connection off, of losing the ability to talk to Books>People. He doesn’t like that. Ugh. It’s a coincidence. Probably.

He’s not going to panic. Not right now. When she gets home he’ll simply send a message to Books>People and if Liv’s phone goes off, he’ll know. That’s all. It’s fine.

The door to the apartment opens, and he stares at it, unmoving from his place standing in the middle of the living room. Liv walks in dressed in a dark green wool coat, frowning at her phone before looking up.

“Oh, hey.”

He strides over to the couch, as if he had simply been on his way back instead of uselessly pacing the room. “Hi.”

He picks up his phone. And types out a message.

FangtasticLover: Archivists? Well, that does sound dreadfully dull.

He presses send and doesn’t look away from Liv as she hangs her coat in the hall. The passing seconds feel like an eternity, and for a moment, he believes that it might have been long enough that he’s safe. It is a coincidence. But then her phone vibrates on the table.

No, no, no, no no. NO. But he knows, and no amount of denial will make it go away. Books>People is his fucking roommate.

He can’t do this, not right now. So the moment she’s in the kitchen proper he strides right out of the apartment without another word.

#astarion #astarion x tav #tavstarion #bg3 fanfiction #invisible string #modern au #astarion x liv #slothquisitorwrites #listen I could write an essay about Gale probably deeply identifying with gregor in the metamorphosis #no one wants that but I *could*#lol #also astarion continues to be relatable by scrolling the internet to avoid doing actual work

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whiskeysorrows · 1 year ago

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There's something so sickening about how the only hope of survival for many victims of the genocide in Palestine is the parasocial relationships they can form online. It's something straight out of the Hunger Games.

#it's good to have awareness to keep our eyes on palestine and witness and know what is happening #it's the least that we could do to know ppl as something other than an endless string of numbers #but the way people are responding on social media to specific individuals and quoting their most heartbreaking quotes or whatever #there's a feeling of spectatorship to it #maybe it's just me #but i think it's been happening for a long time and no-one's acknowledging how close we are to making atrocities entertainment #it began with the vietnam war when it was televised and people named massacres 'the most dramatic episodes'#and i think it's still happening now #free palestine #rambles #it's dehumanising how we can just scroll and look at children's corpses one video and then a meme in the next post #it's the absolute desensitizing of actual human suffering

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ryssbelle · 11 months ago

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#i went to the notes and thsjdjd. they are going at it in there #like if you scroll down a bit omg theres a string of just one guy replying to a bunch of people #and like people be getting heated at a twitter screenshot #giving hypotheticals of should we or should we not eat this rich if A = b like #its not that deep #we really dont know anything other than whats here #just laugh and move on or dont laugh and move on #i just thought it was funny XD

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gimmick-blog-bracket · 1 month ago

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Now for the final round!

@hellsitegenetics

I love them

I didn't know I needed to know that the weed-smoking girlfriends post was genetically a wolf, but I did, and I do. Also puts great stuff on my dash.

it’s so fun to be scrolling unhinged posts and then boom. an organism!

so many moths‼ also, unexpected comedy with some of the matches

perfect blend of silly and informative, and makes for an excellent punchline at the end of a long post. puts creatures on my dash. literally what more could you ask for

It's a really unique blog concept and a lot of times the results are pretty funny. It's great when the sequence matches the post content too!

Creatures 👍

Finds beautiful creatures out of the mess of the hellsite

Offers finality AND gives us a creechur.

I love them. English speakers talk like moths

If this blog wins, they could run the text of the winning announcement, and determine the post's genus and species!

They're also very good about tagging the type of creature depicted in the results, so as long as you mute tags of creatures you don't want to see, it's a very fun time seeing iconic legacy posts (and new submissions) being reduced down to a string of letters and assigned a random species of fish or moth or something!

uhh it’s cool

BLAST

There are so many weird bugs in the world

Yippee!!

If, as Haldane said, God has an inordinate fondness for beetles, then surely this blog proves that Tumblr has an inordinate fondness for moths.

Top tier blog as a geneticist, I love seeing obscure organisms and MOTH

Admin got rate limited after trying to blast the bee movie

the knowledge of biology to pull this off (i have taken one biology class in my life) and also the work to find all the strings honestly deserves quite a bit of praise

This gimmick blog has it all: science, pictures of animals, interaction with the text of other peoples' posts, interesting information, and a unique and fun premise. As a biologist, I'm rooting for hellsitegenetics to reach the end and take the tournament, because it is truly a standout among gimmick blogs.

If they win, perhaps this blog too shall become a cool organism :3

@hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

What's more happy holiday cheer than cheering on the destruction of a giant straw goat?

The birds may have won 2023, but I believe in humanity's capability for arson for 2024 <3

a vote for me is a vote for arson! This message was approved by hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

gavle is SUCH a public service and holiday feature

what's more tumblr than comical destruction and holidays?

sometimes you just gotta vote with your matchsticks

Bringing a cultural staple to tumblr since 2021

Arson is so much more fun

It would be really funny and ironic if it survives the tournament

you have no idea how much joy watching the chronicling of the gavlebocken brings me every year

hasgavlebockenburneddownyet provides an essential public service

always love seeing a bit of Swedish history on my dash 'Swedish bamboo season'

the goat account is peak gimmick blog

If I don't get to beat the goat then nobody does. -pointless-achievements

Never ask Tumblr to choose between lies and arson! The winner threatens by nature to rip apart the very fabric of our DNA!

goat statues made out of straw are exciting and interesting

I wanna see things burn

the goat is an essential part of tumblr culture and the goat blog is a sacred keeper of the tumblr high holidays

watching to see if the big straw goat has burned down each year is a true delight, something I never knew existed until tumblr and the blog dedicated to it

the incredibly focused nature of @/hasgavlebockenburneddownyet is what makes their gimmick superior.

Please guys bite gavlebocken

Look, I'm Danish. I was put on this earth to annoy the Swedes and vice versa, but even I voted for @/hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

gavlebocken is also such a fun name and this blog informed be about its existence, so for that I am grateful

hasgavlebockenburneddownyet is providing a vital service! Every year, people rely on their updates regarding the fate of our most beloved Yule Goat! How could they NOT deserve the win!?

sacred anti-corporate arson

a vote for gävlebocken is a vote for anarchy!

pls vote for them they're the funniest gimmick keeping track on the funniest phenomena in recent human history, like when i look at their acc i think to myself this is what tumblr was created for

the goat is the GOAT

HASGAVLEBOCKENBURNEDDOWNYET DESERVES TO WIN, I have them on post alert for a REASON

the holiday season wouldn't be the same without them

they do important reporting. Do you look at the news and be like 'the reporters aren't doing work they're just telling you whats happening.' Have some respect for the goat news

let the weird burnt sacrificial ritual of it all appeal to you

nothing makes my December more interesting, arson should win

doesn't barge in on other peoples posts which is always a good thing in my books. not a fan when obnoxious gimmick blogs turn a decent post into a garbled mess

#round 7 #tumblr tournament #polls #gimmick blog

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guest-1-2-3 · 11 months ago

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Every day I am astonished that something like “atla hs au, tw mcd, abo, pwp, dddne” is entirely comprehensible to me. like those are not words wtf

#ao3 #i was scrolling thru ao3 like yesterday and read something that looked somewhat like that #and then i looked back like i should not be able to understand that #that is a string of incomprehensible acronyms #it is hilarious that i know what each one means

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luna-is-out-there · 1 year ago

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Excuse me Tumblr, but wtf is this? Badges? And none of them are a little kitty cat? Or really gay?

What the heck

#Neat but why is it chattering teeth??#gimme a scroll or a pen or one of them soft noodly worms on a string instead of this joker bullshit like come on now that's not gay enough

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dumbbitchgalore · 25 days ago

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Soon-to-be Single!Price sending this to his soon-to-be cheater wife to show her how good the new babysitter is taking care of him (🌽 link)

John’s intentions with bringing you into the house as a babysitter were genuinely pure. He wanted you to help fill the void inside his twin daughters’ hearts ripped open by their absent, whoring mother.

One night he finds himself scrolling through the Au Pair website looking for the suitable candidate and he finds you. A foreigner, good with kids, previously working as a tutor and now currently on a gap year from studying at university to give a helping hand mouth and pussy to families like his. And that is how he brought you into his home.

John’s wife seemingly did not care, as long as her kids didn’t bother her, she couldn’t care about who’s taking care of them.

Day by day, John becomes enamoured by you. The way you took care of his kids was pulling at his heart strings, daring him to get closer to you, to get to know you better and possibly become friends so that he has someone to take to. That is his intention, right?

He learns your favourite colour, food, the flowers you like, the designer items on your wishlist hoping to be rich enough to buy them. He memorises your features. Your perfect lips, manicured hands, your prim and proper appearance in front of him is almost like a facade to protect yourself.

And it is, you try to protect yourself from John, to keep a distance and always be polite with an air of professionalism. You can’t let him know that your head over heels to hear his gravelling voice, to stare at his cerulean eyes or even just to get close enough to smell his cologne. You definitely didn’t want him to think of you as a strange au pair that he regretted choosing.

Often you and John would find yourselves alone in the home after tending to the girls and putting them to bed and going to the kitchen to enjoy a snack before bed. Tonight, you find John leaning against the kitchen counter sipping on a glass of whiskey as you go to open the fridge. You know, politely acknowledging his presence.

“Care to share a glass with me?” John’s smooth voice engulfs your presence.

You turn back looking at him as you give him a soft smile, “Thank you for the offer Mr Price, but-”

Before you finish, he puts his hand up signalling you to stop talking and sighs before taking another sip of his drink.

“Turning down a man going through a divorce?”

Your eyes widen at his question, “You and Mrs Price are-”

“That slut doesn’t deserve to be called by my last name.” He says curtly.

You nod, making your way next to him and pouring yourself a drink and taking a sip, the liquid deliciously burning down your throat.

“I’d appreciate you not telling the girls, I don’t want them worrying.”

“Of course, sir-”

“John. Just John is fine.”

“Alright, John.” You say and John swears that you were a siren in disguise at that moment. Your sweet voice calling his name like a holy man being lulled in by a succubus.

A few too many drinks later, you find yourself in such a predicament. On the floor, watching yourself in the mirror as you sloppily makeout with John’s cock as he records you. Suckling his head, you drool onto the floor, laving it as your tongue prods at his slit, guttural moans spewing out of his mouth encouraging your ministrations.

You let go of his tip with a ‘pop’ noise, making your way down his length. Long wet drags on your tongue along John’s veins cause him to shiver in delight, begging his body not to cum too early on.

His voice cuts through the air of whimpers and wet sucks as John addresses his wife in the video.

“You could never suck my cock like this and you’ve given yourself wrinkles from the amount of dumbfucks you blew after work.”

John forcefully takes your mouth off his cock, halting the momentum of pleasure inside of him. He grabs your chin harshly, making you face the camera. Your lips red and bitten from his kisses, drool staining your chin as you look at the camera doe-eyed and needy.

“This sweet little thing takes care of the girls better than you do. She’ll be a better wife than you, ya slag.”

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mattsfavoritestar · 1 month ago

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SIT STILL, matt sturniolo

synopsis… you physically cannot stay still no matter how hard you try. your other friends are used to your high energy and usually don’t mind it, all except one. matt’s probably the only person who can get you to calm down. kinda.

warnings… puppy!reader, mean!matt, unprotected p in v (be smart🌚), cockwarming, little bit of a praise kink, little bit of nipple play, big dick!matt, orgasm denial

@bernardsbendystraws for the dividers <3

“i feel like my stomach hates me right now” nick groans. he laid back on to the couch with an uncomfortable look on his face as he rubbed his stomach over his shirt. “not gonna lie my tummy s’grumbling too,” chris says.

you were probably hungry as-well but your brain blocked out the dull ache as you were hyper focused on the movie playing in front of you. your leg bounced rapidly as your fingers curled tighter onto the couch cushion. matt rolls his eyes, “she’s not even paying attention, just go and i’ll ask her later,” he says.

it’s true. you weren’t paying attention. you heard shuffling from both sides of you before seeing nick and chris get up in your peripheral vision. a hand waved in your face causing you to snap out of the trance and look up at chris. “don’t piss him off too much, ‘kay?” he smiles. you return the toothy grin then turned back to the screen.

as the door shut, you felt eyes burning into the side of your head. matt scoffs before getting up and walking to his room. not even ten minutes pass before a commercial interrupts your movie causing you to slightly whine. you tried to entertain yourself with your phone but it didn’t last thirty seconds before you tossed it and groaned in boredom. you looked around the empty room then got up in search of matt.

as you creeped closer to his cracked door, you heard a string of profanity’s leave his lips. you slightly pushed the door open, widening the view of matt’s face being illuminated by his pc. “yeah we need a minute to like— chill for a sec,” he says.

you pushed the door open further with a smile on your face as you waltzed into his room. matt completely ignored your presence as he scrolled through the item shop, mumbling whatever lyrics were playing through his headphones. “whatcha doing?” you ask as you flatten your palms on his desk.

as you pushed your self closer to view his screen, you were unknowingly giving him a perfect view of your tits being smushed together. he lets out a small breathy chuckle as he takes a quick glance then returns his focus. a pout formed onto your face at the lack of attention. you move closer to matt then start pawing at his shirt before letting your fingers trail up to the nape of his neck.

your fingers danced between his curls gently then you found the sudden urge to yank a little too harsh. a groan falls from matt’s lips as his eyes squeeze shut as he let his head fall back. you let out a small giggle before you yelped as matt roughly pulls you into his lap. you felt his body heat on your back and the growing bulge that nestled right between your legs.

“so fucking annoying,” he mutters before going back to scrolling. you whined and squirmed as you tried to twist yourself to face him but all you did was cause his dick to harden and grow even more. a slap landed on your bare thigh. matt grips your jaw and forces your head to face him. “can you sit still for one god damn second?” he says.

“m’bored—“ you whined. matt tugs at your pouted lip with his thumb before releasing your face with a scoff. “so go finish the movie,” he replies. you let out a huff as you went back to squirming and eventually found yourself slightly bouncing. a deep groan rumbled through matt’s chest as his grip on the mouse grew tighter.

matt pushes you off him, “don’t wanna behave?”, he says, “strip”. you look at him through your wide eyes with excitement, if you had a tail it would’ve knocked over the things on his desk. matt watched you pull your clothes off as his eyes grew more dark. he slightly pulled his sweatpants down just enough to reveal his aching cock.

the second your panties were off, matt pulls you back on top of him. you hissed at the stretch but made no move to remove yourself. “that’s it, good— girl” he says in a low voice. you felt matt rub small circles on your skin in a comforting way as your tried adjusting to his size. “alright i’m back” you heard a voice say from his headset.

you tried to roll your hips but a firm grip on your waist prevented you from moving. “behave,” he says before unmuting his mic. matt acted as if you weren’t even there while he played his game. his character ended up getting shot causing him to thrust his hips deeply into you as he yelled at the screen. a mewl left your lips but you covered your mouth quickly, in fear of being heard.

“yo kid, you good?” you heard a voice say. matt glared down at you then gave you a tight squeeze before responding. you were trying so hard not to moan but every time matt jolted or shifted the slightest, he brushed against that spongy spot inside you. his hand traveled up to your tits, allowing his fingers to roll your sensitive nipples.

“matt–“ you whimpered. your chest rose and fell rapidly as the urge to move grew more prominent. a devilish smirk painted his face as he tugged and pinched. your warm walls pulsated, hugging his cock even more causing him to hiss in pleasure. your skin was sticky from your own arousal, a wet patch grew on matt’s sweatpants. you jutted your hips as your brain grew more fuzzy then stuffed your mouth with your fingers.

drool escaped down your hand as muffled moans and whines attempt to fall. you felt the vibration of matt’s laugh shoot straight to your core. “awe— poor puppy just wanted to be played with, yeah?” he coos. you nod your head as you let your hips rock faster with a tight pressure building by the second.

you dropped both your hands to the desk and curled your fingers in attempt to steady yourself. right as you were on the brink of your release, matt pulls you off him. you whined at the lost orgasm and tried to get back on him but his tight grip on your waist prevented you. “i said t’sit still, didn’t i?” matt says with a smirk.

#matt sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #𝓜𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝓢.#𝓜𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝓢. ♡ 𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡 #𝓜𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝓢. ♡ 𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑠

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doumadono · 2 months ago

Text

Warnings: smut w/o plot, Bakugo jacking off, se*ual fantasies, male orgasm, ejaculation

Summary: you're Bakugo's roommate, and although you hardly ever interact, Katsuki secretly develops intense feelings for you. Unable to gather the courage to confess, he silently admires you from a distance — until the day he stumbles upon your OnlyFans account

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

Living with Bakugo Katsuki was always an unpredictable ride. He was a walking firestorm - intense, brash, and always on the edge of exploding. But after a few months of sharing an apartment with him, you’d come to realize something: Bakugo wasn’t just a chaos incarnate. He was meticulous, sometimes even thoughtful, and despite his rough edges, he’d never once crossed any boundaries.

You’d gotten the room through your mutual friend, Kirishima, and Bakugo had agreed reluctantly.

From the very beginning, he’d kept his distance - never really speaking unless necessary, and most of the time he stayed in his room, went on missions or trained late into the night.

You could feel his eyes on you sometimes, though, watching silently, like a predator sizing up his prey. But whenever you looked, he was back to his usual aloof self.

What you didn’t know was that Bakugo was harboring a dangerous attraction to you. He’d never admit it, not to you, and definitely not to himself. You were out of his league. Too sweet, too gorgeous, and the very idea of being vulnerable enough to confess his feelings made him grit his teeth in frustration. He'd fantasized about you countless times though - his imagination running wild with ideas of what it would feel like to claim you. But he buried those desires deep, thinking you'd never look at him the way he wanted.

That was, until one night.

Bakugo had come home late from a mission, exhausted but restless. After a shower, he threw himself onto his bed and mindlessly scrolled through his phone, his thumb hovering over the OnlyFans app. He opened it to unwind, expecting to see the usual faces he followed.

Katsuki wasn’t the type to do things halfway. Whether it was in battle or in bed, he always gave everything he had. He liked control, craved it, and when it came to sex, that desire for dominance only amplified.There was something about seeing his girls completely undone - driven to the point of exhaustion, their minds hazy and bodies twitching from overstimulation - that made his blood rush straight to his meaty, veiny cock. He loved it. Loved fucking them stupid, pushing them until they were too weak to even move, taking them apart piece by piece until they were nothing more than a quivering, overstimulated mess. He'd fuck them hard, in the deepest, most mind-numbing positions that left them gasping for air, so lost in the pleasure that they couldn’t think straight. And when he was done, when he was satisfied and had cum deep inside them, he’d sit back and admire his work - the way his cum would slowly dribble out of their abused, slippery holes, their bodies so spent they couldn’t even squirm at the discomfort. That sight alone was enough to make him hard all over again.

Not everyone could keep up with him. He knew that. His sex drive was relentless, and sometimes, it was easier to find that satisfaction elsewhere - somewhere he didn’t have to hold back or deal with the aftermath. Because that was the thing about Bakugo Katsuki - he didn’t just fuck. He conquered.

That’s why he liked OnlyFans. It was a place where he could explore the things that got him going without any strings attached.

Bakugo liked to watch. He followed plenty of girls there who reminded him of the kind of sex he liked to have - the ones who weren’t afraid to push their limits, who would ride their toys until their legs were shaking, their eyes fluttering in that tell-tale sign of pleasure that had turned to something far more intense. The girls who let him imagine fucking them so stupid, until they couldn’t even think, until all they could do was huff and puff his name into the mattress, their bodies boneless, overwhelmed, claimed his.

Upon spotting a familiar figure suggested in his feed, he felt his entire body go rigid.

It was you.

No fucking way, he thought to himself, eyes wide in disbelief. There you were, posing in a barely-there lace bra and panties, your lips curved into a teasing smile. You looked so different - so confident, so seductive - nothing like the girl he passed by in the hallway every day. His cock immediately stirred, blood rushing south as he continued to stare, unable to believe his eyes.

Bakugo's mind raced, trying to process the image. You had an OnlyFans? Fuck, that’s hot. The realization hit him like a truck - he could actually watch you, see more of you than he'd ever imagined.

Without thinking, he subscribed, and a moment later, a notification popped up: “New subscriber: ExplosiveKing.”

His cock twitched at the sight of your next photo - a close-up of your tits spilling out of the lacey bra, your nipples hard and pushing against the fabric. Then came a greeting message, and Bakugo almost dropped his phone when he saw it.

Thanks for subscribing, handsome ♡ Hope you enjoy the content!

You even attached a photo of you in nothing but a thong, your ass up and face turned towards the camera with a playful wink.

He groaned softly, his cock already straining against his boxers as he stared at the image, replaying every interaction you two had ever had. All the tension, all the moments he pushed away, came rushing back in an overwhelming wave of desire. His dick was dribbling more precum into boxers, the fabric going from damp to soaked quickly as he feverishly sought his release.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, already palming himself through his Kalvin Clein boxers. His left hand reached down, cupping his dick through his pants. "Nnnnhhh," he couldn't stop the soft and breathy moan that escaped him as he flipped his dick up, into a more comfortable position. His hips were already pushing forward, into his hand. He needed more.

His fingers fumbled as he tugged his boxers down, needing relief as he gripped his length, hard and throbbing. His breathing grew heavy, and within seconds, his rough hand was wrapped around his cock, the image of your perfect ass burning in his mind. He pumped himself slowly at first, his imagination running wild. He couldn’t stop thinking about how you lived just a few feet away from him, and here he was, jerking off to your nudes.

"Shit, you're perfect," he muttered under his breath, eyes glued to the screen as he pumped his cock. He imagined your hands on him instead, the way your soft lips would feel against the tight skin on his rock-hard cock, the sound of your breathy, sloppy moans in his ear. His grip tightened, matching the pace of his fantasy, biting his lip to muffle the groan threatening to escape.

As he stroked himself faster, the guilt began to fade, replaced by raw, animalistic desire. You’d never know. And hell, if you were posting this shit for other guys to see, then why not him?

It didn’t take long before he was groaning your name under his breath, imagining you on top of him, your tight body grinding down on his cock. The idea of having you - right there, in the flesh - made his pulse race. His fist moved faster, eyes squeezed shut as he pictured the way you’d look riding him, those soft lips of yours gasping for breath as he filled you up with his meaty dick.

His imagination ran wild - your pretty face, your tits bouncing as he fucked you senseless, the way you’d cry his name. That thought alone sent him spiraling, his cock twitching. With a low growl, Bakugo came hard, hot ropes of cum spilling onto his hand as he panted, chest heaving. He kept pumping, riding the high of his orgasm, but even as the pleasure subsided, he couldn't get you out of his head.

For a moment, guilt flickered in the back of his mind again. You were his roommate. Hell, you were always so nice to him, always sweet and considerate. And here he was, jerking off to your pics in secret. But as his phone buzzed with a new notification, that guilt quickly dissolved into something primal.

You had just started a live stream.

Bakugo's cock twitched in his hand again as he opened your stream.

You were sitting on your bed, wearing a cute little lingerie set that clung to your body in all the right ways, thigh-high stockings completing the look. His breath caught in his throat as he watched you adjust the camera, giving everyone a perfect view of your body. "Hey, cuties!" you chirped happily, the camera lighting up with your playful smile as more viewers trickled in. "Hope you're ready for some fun tonight!"

ExplosiveKing: Damn, doll, you look fucking amazing tonight

"Aw, thank you, ExplosiveKing!" you giggled, reading his comment. "So sweet of you to join!"

Hearing you say his username in that sexy, cheerful voice of yours set something off in him. His eyes darkened with lust as he started stroking his slobbery cock again, the thought of you calling out to him making him harder than ever.

You started off slow, teasing your viewers with gentle touches, running your hands over your body as you spoke sweetly to them. But when you pulled out the vibrator, Bakugo nearly lost it. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his pulse racing as he watched you slip the toy between your legs, letting out soft moans as you teased yourself.

He couldn't take his eyes off you. Every little gasp, every roll of your hips - it was driving him wild. He matched your pace, fucking his fist like he was fucking you, imagining how your pussy would feel clenching around him.

Then, as if reading his mind, you slid the vibrator inside your already sopping pussy, your breath hitching as you moaned for your audience.

Bakugo bit his lip hard, stroking himself faster as he imagined what it’d be like to have you under him, begging for his cock. His grip tightened, pumping his length in time with your movements, chasing that high again.

It happened so quickly that his brain barely registered the exact moment.

His cum surged up through his throbbing, overstimulated cock in powerful spurts, spilling and bubbling from the slick, swollen tip, leaving a thick trail of pearly semen coating his hand and seeping through his fingers as Katsuki moaned your name.

The young man fervently hoped you hadn’t overheard him from your bedroom.

Weeks passed, and Bakugo’s obsession with you only grew. He watched every stream, donated more than anyone else, and even bought his first sex toy - a pocket pussy - just to mimic fucking you when you used your toys on camera. Every Wednesday and Friday became his ritual. He’d lock himself in his room, pull out his laptop, and jerk off until his cock was raw and spent. Sometimes he'd cum three or four times in a single stream, completely lost in the fantasy of you.

But as much as he enjoyed it, it started to get under his skin. The other men watching you, the ones leaving comments and drooling over you - it pissed him off. You were his. He hated knowing they were getting off to you too, even though you were right there, living with him, just down the hall.

One night, after one of your streams, you noticed something unusual - ExplosiveKing had donated more than usual.

There was a short comment attached to the donation:

"You have a way of getting under my skin like no one else. No matter how many others are watching, you’re mine in a way they’ll never understand."

And honestly? You didn’t mind. Among all your fans, he stood out as your favorite - dedicated, generous, and mysterious.

What you didn’t know, though, was that the man behind the screen was Katsuki Bakugo, your roommate. That the same explosive hero you lived with was jerking off to you multiple times a week, falling deeper into his secret obsession with every stream.

He wasn’t merely your biggest fan - he was the man who longed for you entirely to himself, who fantasized about fucking you dumb every time he heard your sweet voice. For now, Bakugo remained hidden in the shadows, silently worshiping you from his bedroom, awaiting the day he would muster the courage to reveal just how desperate he was to be your boyfriend.

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doll-face222 · 2 months ago

Note

Had this idea about Rafe’s best friend! Reader who hasn’t been with anyone in like a year and is getting really worked up. Maybe she had a terrible week and there was a last straw and she’s yelling and yanking on her hair and throwing things and Rafe is kind of realizing she just needs to be totally dominated and taken care of so he does

rafe x bsf!reader

a/n: i totally love that idea anon !! first time writing ever i just didnt want to let sweet nonnie down, so apologies if its not that good !

cw: smut, swearing, drool.

rafe knew you haven’t had a hookup in ages. you would vaguely mention it, when it would be just the two of you in either one’s rooms. if he was being honest, he pitied you. he even wanted to be the one to help you…

you were pissed off the whole week. maybe it was your hormones, with the way you would get annoyed at everything.

whether it be traffic making you late to events, or people at the country club being rude, steam was coming out of your ears.

you were like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode anytime now. good thing your bestfriend kept you grounded whenever you were feeling overstimulated.

so there you were, in your room getting ready for dinner with your family and the camerons. rafe on your bed scrolling on his phone, patiently waiting for you.

you were quiet while doing your makeup on your vanity table, not your usual chatty self. normally you would go on and on about anything and everything under the sun, yapping for hours on end.

rafe knew something was up.

“something wrong bunny?” he asked, using the nickname he gave you referring to the time you dressed up as a bunny for halloween when you two were little.

“no,” you replied with a pout, voice barely above a whisper.

rafe knew better than to push you, so he just sighed and kept quiet.

a few moments have passed, and rafe hears a soft ‘oh fuck’, a thud, and heavy breathing from your vanity. he looks up from his phone and sees your head down, soft sobs coming from the table.

when he got up to come closer, you shot up. screaming, crying, wailing even. rafe could see your problem now: you smudged your mascara. you started yanking out your hair curlers, figuring they were useless if your makeup was ruined anyway.

“woah woah- hey bun!” he yelled, pulling you by your waist. he placed you on your bed, rubbing up and down your arms to soothe you.

rafe guided you gently so you were laying your head on your pillows. he was in between your legs, arms caging your frame.

“shh calm down baby,” he whispered, wiping your mascara stained eyes with his thumbs.

he petted your hair, large hands slowly making their way to your cheeks.

“i’m here, i’m here.” he cooed as your cries hushed, turning into soft hiccups.

in this position he could feel you wet through your bloomers. he looked at your eyes as if to ask for permission silently, before he cupped your mound through the frilly fabric.

“what d’you need bunny?”

“need you rafey,” you whined. he carefully pulled down your bloomers, a string of slick connecting your pussy to the fabric.

rafe grew hard at the sight, taking his thumb to run across your slit. his other thumb trailing to play with your nipples through your top.

you mewl at the simultaneous sensations, given you haven’t experienced them in a long while. he took that as a sign to circle your clit, causing your eyes to shut and your legs to close, only to be blocked by rafe’s broad figure.

he then plunged two fingers in and out of you, thick digits stretching your tight hole. rafe’s hand that was previously playing with your tits find their way to your mouth, muffling your lewd moans.

“let’s be quiet bunny. your parents might be downstairs” he shushed, deep voice making your pussy clamp down on his fingers.

fingers curling up to hit your sweet spot, rafe could feel you getting close.

“you can cum baby, go ‘head,” he signals, feeling you gush all over his hand. eyes rolling to the back of your head, you felt euphoria rush through you.

as you rode out your high, rafe removes his hand from your mouth, drool dripping from your mouth and his hand.

“sorry,” you squeaked. he didn’t mind anyway, just happy you probably had your first orgasm not from your own fingers in months.

it never occured to you that this was an option, to be touched by your own bestfriend. this wouldn’t be the last time it happens, you could tell.

“thank you rafey.” you smiled weakly at him, looking through your lashes. he didn’t say anything, just kissed your forehead.

“are we late to dinner?” you asked, suddenly remembering why you were getting ready.

“i drive fast, we’ll make it,” he smirks, grabbing your small hand to cup the bulge through his pants.

dinner could wait.

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated !! love, scarlet.

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sunniskyies · 2 months ago

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𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 || 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐧𝐞-𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: - 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Reader forgets she has Ford’s mind reading device on… 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Ford Pines x fem!shy!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: - 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Makeout, fluffy shy stuff 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k 𝐀/𝐍: This is so so so out of my league with this kind of thing, but I had a vision and had to try, so forgive me if it’s not the best !! ( you can read this as young or old Ford by the way ! )

“Are you going to tell me what exactly that is?” You ask shyly, perched neatly on a wooden stool in the deepest room of Ford’s laboratory. The man in question is bustling around the benches, plugging in wires and fiddling with dials and buttons.

“It’s a mental-strengthening device, able to encrypt one’s thoughts to prevent dream demons like Bill Cipher from entering.”

You purse your lips. “Ah. Of course.”

Ford looks briefly over at you while he tinkers. “I don’t want any chance of that creature making his way into our world. The damage he causes is… irrevocable.”

You fall silent, quietly studying the scientist’s practised hands and that little furrow in his brow you doubt he’s aware of. You see it often, in your stolen glances as you set his coffee down in the mornings, or when his eyes linger for a moment on his work when you call for his attention.

You let yourself sit in the warm feeling that spreads through your skin, toying with the fantasy of him for just a moment. Before you know it, Ford is approaching you with a gadget in his hands, and you’re pushing those silly thoughts from your mind.

“This is the receiver,” Ford explains, gesturing to the sieve-like helmet in his hands. “May I put it on you?”

All you manage is a ‘mhm’, and you hope your ears aren’t bright red when Ford places the bronze contraption over your hair. As he adjusts it here and there his fingers often brush your skin, you’re mortified as goosebumps shiver over your skin. Luckily, from what you know about Stanford Pines, he isn’t the most observant man unless you happen to have three eyes or an off-on switch.

Being Ford’s assistant has been the best opportunity of your life, but childishly you often wish for something more. To see those lips say your name not just to thank you for your helping hands. To have the confidence to show Ford the book of research you’ve been privately gathering, his eyes catching yours as he realises the potential he’d never seen in you before…

For the millionth time reality pulls you from your daydreams. Ford crouches down slightly, your faces level, your eyes on his while his are at your hairline. A six-fingered hand gently tucks loose strands back from your face.

“There,” he says, eyes catching yours. “Equipped. How does that feel?”

You swallow, voice a tad too squeaky, “All good!”

“Perfect. I’ll begin the calibration, inform me if you experience any discomfort,” he nods, satisfied, before sweeping away again.

As you wait, you silently tap on your knees, looking around. You look over the table behind you to see a television screen with—

Your thoughts.

A string of your most embarrassing ideas visualised on a ceiling-high collection of screens, unarguably clingy and desperate desires paired with Ford’s name scrolling everywhere.

You whip your gaze over to Ford, dew already appearing over your skin. He seems to be engrossed in whatever's in his hands, but it’s only a matter of time before he sees all… that!

Fuck, fuck, fuck! The screens mirror the chant in your mind.

You try vainly to think of other things, random words and imagery slowly but surely creeping onto the televisions. Polar Bears. Adjectives. Pencils, pens, markers. Dates and historical impact of various civil wars. Charity raffles. That one catchy jingle. Discombobulation. Ambystoma mexicanum.

Ford looks up. “Finished!” He says with a quick smile.

You quietly clear your throat. “Uhm. Wow! This is very clever, Ford, although I must admit didn’t realise it displayed the user's consciousness?”

His eyebrows raise at your question, before his face softly twists with confusion as he stares at the reading. He glances back over at you with the face of someone just realising how stupid something is. Yet, you almost slump with relief. At least he only thinks you're simple, not a freak.

“Well, yes, it does. Did I not mention that?” He says slowly. “I was going to suggest you exercise your brain to ensure the program reaches every aspect of your cognition… but it seems you’re… already… doing that?” He questions hesitantly. Your smile is too-bright.

“Oh, yes, that is what I am doing. Yep.” You squeak.

“Right.”

The silence is palpable, a thick sludge that clings to your form. Sometimes both your wandering stares slide over each other, awkward blips before you both avert eye contact. You hear the hum of machinery, the soft tap of your shoe on the floor. Your fingers itch to grab your journal from your pocket to give yourself something to do with your hands, but you’re embarrassed at what Ford would see as you ponder over it. The silence stretches on and on, until you can’t bear not to break it.

“So, you, uhm, said something about exercising the mind?” You blurt sheepishly.

Ford’s eyes are immediately on you. “Yes! Yes, just try to keep your mind active, it helps the protection process.”

And the silence is back. Perhaps even worse than before.

Desperate for relief, you pull your journal from your pocket. You wave it weakly, “Mind if I do some work?”

Ford adjusts his glasses. “No, no of course not. Go ahead.” He gestures at the various desks stationed around the room. You shoot him a quick smile and spin on your stool to the table next to you, propping open the journal and continuing an essay you plan to submit as a paper in your current university course.

This works, taking your mind off your vulnerability as you focus on your work. This is what you love about science, about academia, the ability to lose yourself in something so complex, so worthwhile. You really can’t wait to get your research out there and make a name for yourself.

You write for a while, pen often times balanced between teeth. You don’t quite register Ford coming up behind you until his tilted head is in your peripheral.

“Fantastic,” he mutters absently, his face well and truly absorbed on the open page. Embarrassed, you half-heartedly cover the page with your hands.

“Oh, no, it’s really not anything special.” You mumble, eyes averted.

“No, really, I love it. You’re studying quantum physics, right?” He insists, head tilted trying to catch his eye. When you do, he has a soft smile painted on. Your cheeks glow pink.

“Yes, I major in quantum physics and forensic science. I minor in biomedical engineering, and I’m additionally doing an online paper on parapsychology with the only university that does it, in, uh, Finland.” The sparkle in Ford’s eyes grows as you timidly recite your areas of study.

“Parapsychology? That’s brilliant!” He remarked, awed. “Why didn’t you say that, I would love to take you out on my field days. I study all sorts of paranormal and supernatural activity here. It'd be great to share it with someone.”

“Oh, I don’t want to trouble you,” you say hushed, fending off a stammer. Internally, your heart is soaring. Yes yes yes!

“It’d be no trouble,” he says earnestly, soft features returned as if coaxing you out of your shell. “I knew you were smart, but I had no idea the extent,’ he says, almost to himself.

Your eyes lock on him immediately. “You think that?”

He seems surprised. “Of course I do. You’re an exceptional assistant, and you’ve been in study for ages. I’ve heard nothing less than great things about when I send my own work to our local university. Not many scholars live out here, you know?”

You can’t drag your eyes away from him, and you're sure Ford can see every star in the galaxy swirling in your pupils right now. This is everything, everything you’ve wanted.

You’re not sure whether it’s the surge of confidence, or the way Ford’s looking so gently at you, but you’re acutely aware of how low Ford has bent down to talk to you. It would only take a small movement to bring your faces together.

And so, heart fluttering with this moment of bravery, you rise slightly up on the balls of your feet and press a small kiss to Ford’s cheek.

“Thank you,” you breathe, the sensation in your chest borderline sickening. “It, uh, means a lot.”

Ford doesn’t say a word, eyes wide but painfully unreadable. The silence is once again, stifling.

“Not a lot of fellow scientists in this area, like you said,” You hastily ramble on after a long moment. The gap doesn’t last this time, though.

In a swift motion Ford’s hand is at your cheek. You barely have time to inhale before his lips are on yours, their warmth sinking against your mouth.

You’d never imagined them to be so firm, although his proximity doesn’t give your mind any room to think about anything. It’s all happening so fast, your mind dizzied as you reciprocate his intentful kisses.

Your pen clatters slightly on the table as your hand releases it, quickly gripping to Ford as his arms snake around you and lift you up. He spins, setting you on the table in the middle of the room. You’re sure at some point you have or will let slip an embarrassing sound, but you’re wholly focused on Ford and how you’re sitting at his level on the tall table; him standing before you with his hands at your waist. Your knees brush either side of his thighs.

Your hands bury themselves in his hair, his hands in turn pull you closer. It’s eager and messy, making your pulse thud wildly. You never thought a man would want you like this, never catching an eye. Let alone the genius that is—

Abruptly, his lips leave yours, the emptiness not lasting long as they move just beneath your lip, then down to your jaw. They trail down to the side of your neck, lips brushing over the shiver on your skin. Small breaths leave your mouth when you feel a glimmer of teeth against your collarbone.

You tilt your head, resting against his where he’s kissing your shoulder in the crook of your neck. Your hands remain tangled in his hair, your eyes closed.

Your bodies are so close together, his lips are all-consuming. It’s bliss. The man you’ve loved for so long, holding you like he’s besotted. Like he’s just as infatuated as you. The thought thrills through your mind; He wants me.

“I can assure you, I most certainly do,” Ford murmurs breathlessly against your skin. You pause, the statement uncannily sounding like a response to your thought…

Oh. Oh no.

The machine. The mind reading. The television directly behind your back.

You haltingly turn your head, face pale. The screen is, in fact, still reciting your thoughts. Every thought. And Ford’s facing it.

“Oh my god,” You groan, palming your forehead. You sink into yourself, drowning in humiliation. But Ford’s hand fishes beneath your chin, tipping your glowing face to look at him. His face is one of endless kindness beneath his mussed hair.

“It’s really not a bad thing, sweetness.” He says gently. You shake your head slightly, eyes squeezing shut.

His thumb creeps up the side of your face, face dipping level to yours. “No, seriously. It’s a very encouraging thing for a man to see.” He jokes warmly. You peek an eye open. Heavens, did he have to look so irresistibly handsome all the time?

“Should I, uhm, remove…” you gesture at the contraption atop your head, teeth worrying your lip.

Ford hesitates for a moment, thinking as his thumb strokes your cheek. “No. No, it’s too important. I can’t have Bill infiltrating your mind.”

You wilt slightly, but Ford once again brings you back to him. “It’ll only take a moment. Half an hour at most.” His eyes flicker fleetingly at your lips. “And besides, it’ll be sunset by then. I hear you can see a meteor shower tonight? If you drive up the hill a little.”

You hum a soft confirmation, smile melting onto your flushed features as Ford presses a last kiss to your cheek. “Good,” He murmurs. “I’ll go fetch the coats.”

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